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When Nino gets back from filming Iwo Jima in America, he's ecstatic to be home but also tired. Ohno notices right away, and it's not the kind of tired that comes from jet lag and passes after a few days. It's the kind of tired that's seeped into his bones, almost as if the mere experience of being away from his band for so long made a permanent impact on his psyche.
"I was very homesick," Nino says whenever someone asks how it went, and if they press for further details he just shakes his head and says he's glad to be back.
But even if Nino's back, the old familiar light in his eyes seems to have been forgotten in America. Ohno tries to draw it out of him in the dressing room or backstage with playful nudges and nicknames, but the best he can get is a sad smile, like he's reminding Nino of good times long past. Most of the time, Nino seems morose and lost, and it's making Ohno feel morose and lost.
So when, three weeks after the fact, Ohno asks Nino without much hope to come over to his place after rehearsal one night and Nino actually agrees, Ohno's struck suddenly by the realization that he doesn't know how to help or what to say.
"Drink?" Ohno asks, shrugging out of his coat as Nino closes the door behind them. Nino's not a big drinker, but he nods, indicating no preference as to what Ohno offers him. Ohno doesn't know what he has for mixers so he just pulls out two beers and leads the way to the couch. Instead of following, Nino stands awkwardly next to the island bar and rolls his bottle in his hands.
"Okay," Ohno says. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
He's expecting Nino to pull a surprised face and pretend to not know what Ohno is talking about. Instead, he just takes a swig of beer and continues to look sad.
"Hey," Ohno says, getting up from the couch to stand next to Nino. "You can tell me."
"I can't," Nino says, and the tone of his voice almost breaks Ohno's heart. He looks at Ohno like it's the hardest thing in the world.
"Since when can you not tell me everything?"
In lieu of an answer, Nino puts down his beer and starts to wring his hands. "Oh-chan," he says. "It was really hard for me, being away for so long."
"I know that," Ohno says, wondering if this means they're getting somewhere or if it's a derailment. "But you're back now. You don't need to be sad anymore."
Nino seems reluctant, but after a lengthy pause he continues. "Being away . . . made me think."
It's not exactly the revelation Ohno was expecting to hear. ". . . Oh?" he says dumbly.
"I really missed you when I was away, Oh-chan." Nino's voice is getting weaker but Ohno can still understand him. He frowns.
"I missed you, too."
"No," Nino cuts in. "I mean—" he stops himself, obviously struggling with the words, and finally decides to take another swig of beer before going on. "I missed you the most. More than everybody else." Lowering his voice even more, as if it's top-secret, he adds, "More than Sho."
Ohno blinks. "I don't get it," he admits. "You say that like I wouldn't have missed you more than everybody else, too."
Nino does look surprised this time, almost as if Ohno's just confessed to liking Girls' Generation. Which he does, just a little bit, but that's beside the point.
"Nino," Ohno says. "I always miss you most. Even when you're here, I miss you." It's a little embarrassing, and Ohno can feel his cheeks coloring, but it's true. He thinks about Nino all the time, whether he's visiting family for the weekend or they're just meeting different people for lunch.
"You—" Nino says, but that's all he gets out. Just like that, Ohno can see the understanding wash over his face. He gets it.
And just like that, Nino is pushing Ohno against the island bar, running his hands down the sides of Ohno's face and hesitating only a moment before kissing Ohno full on the lips, long and wet and nothing like the playful pecks they've shared before. Ohno melts into it, lets Nino lick inside his mouth and trail his hands to Ohno's waist, not even shying away when Nino's thumbs start to brush against the skin of his stomach. Nino tastes like Sapporo and sweat and everything Ohno has had a little hint of but never a real taste, and he could get used to this, actually taking that one step further after so many years of teasing, actually giving in to what he's only guiltily dreamed about until now.
A wave of possessiveness washes over Ohno and he runs his hands up Nino's back, hoping to convey something of that to him. Nino stops kissing him to suck in a shaky breath and rests his face against Ohno's neck, pressing their bodies even closer together.
"Nino," Ohno says, once he thinks he's capable of speech again. "This whole time you were just worried about this? You thought I wouldn't—"
"Let's not talk about it," Nino mumbles, pressing another kiss to Ohno's neck. Ohno tightens his hold around Nino's waist.
"Why don't we move to the bed," he suggests. Nino actually makes a disapproving noise and shakes his head.
"No moving," he says. "If you move, I'll just miss you."
Ohno laughs. "So what do you suggest we do?"
"Stand like this forever," Nino mutters, burying his face even further into Ohno's neck.
As far as Ohno's concerned, it's a pretty near perfect suggestion.
"Okay," he agrees. "Let's."
end