Fic: On My Way Home

[rikke_leonhart]

Title: On My Way Home
Pairing(s): Ohno/Nino, one-sided Ohno/Aiba and Ohno/Jun
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Nope
Word count: 6,838
Summary: AU. In the changing seasons of gold and silver, hearts try to meet and stay together.
Authors' notes: Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear wannatee_1984, happy birthday to you~ ♥

*
It’s autumn.

With all the hues of red and orange and yellow, he wanders through the park among the trees.

He crawls into his coat, snuggles into the scarf wrapped around his neck, burying his hands deeper into the pockets. The colors are beautiful and overwhelming, and he wishes he’d thought of bringing his camera. At the same time he’s glad he didn’t, because on film, the colors fade and that reminds him too much of things he’d rather forget but is reminded of every year.

It’s autumn.

The bright leaves rustle and crunch under his feet and his lips quirk into a smile. It’s not his favorite time of the year, but it’s the most peaceful, the one that brings turbulence to calm, stabilizes everything that falls apart.

Another year has come and gone.

It’s not too cold yet, even though he knows he’ll have to be careful. He chuckles to himself. If he comes home and is ready to get sick, Jun will kill him. Jun worries too much; he worries for the two of them, he worries enough for several people.

He sits down on a bench, sinking even further into the warm coat. His hands are snug and comfortable in his gloves and pockets. A leaf waltzes on air in front of him, and he is smiling as he looks up. It’s raining gold, he thinks with wonder, because no matter how many times he has seen this, it’s still a miracle to his eyes.

He doesn’t remember everything, but he remembers most. He remembers Jun from days on a playground, days with laughter and some with tears. Mostly, he’s happy.

Sometimes he wants to remember why Jun cries, but mostly he doesn’t want to. He wants to go home, laugh with Jun, appreciate everything Jun does for him even though he doesn’t have to.

All the time, he pretends that he doesn’t know what Jun would want from him if he could give it.

The leaves fall around him, their voices tingling in the wind.

It’s autumn.

*
Nino’s first reaction is to be wary, suspicious and, most of all, protective. It’s horrible that it has to be this way, but Aiba has the habit of finding people who takes more from him than they give in return. Nino would rather cut his own right arm off than pile more misery on Aiba’s heart.

“I’ve met someone,” Aiba says brightly, eyes alight and he is positively vibrating with joy.

Nino knows he doesn’t have to say it, not with how much he’s sure his eyes are saying. Because Aiba smiles in that resigned way, the one that tells Nino more than words ever could.

“Maybe met isn’t the right word, after all,” Aiba says, still happy, but he’s calming down, slowly and surely, squeezing onto the couch beside Nino. Nino rolls his eyes.

“Either you met him or you didn’t.”

“Actually,” Aiba sounds sheepish, eyes crinkling into crescent shapes. “I only saw him.”

Nino elbows him, somehow indignant. “You saw him? Where?”

“In the park,” Aiba says, his words taking a dream-like quality and Nino can’t help but smile wistfully. Even if it causes him pain, Aiba is wondrous when he’s in love. If it was possible for Nino to love Aiba like that, he would, just so Aiba wouldn’t have to deal with all the things that happen when love disappears. “He’s very pretty.”

Feeling he has the right, Nino elbows him again. “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” he scolds, but he knows that’s not how Aiba meant it. “For all you know, he might be a total asshole.”

“He’s not,” Aiba defends, but there’s a giggle in his tone, and he slugs Nino’s shoulder.

Nino refrains from saying anything, ignores him until Aiba somehow turns pleading.

“But Nino, he really isn’t,” Aiba says and Nino turns to look properly at him. “His eyes were so sad.”

*
Sho is late.

According to Ohno, he can arrive any moment he wants to, but according to Jun, he needs to be on time.

He gets there not a moment too early, and Jun seems stressed out.

“Jun, relax,” Ohno murmurs from the couch. “I’m not dying. It’s a cold.”

Jun purses his lips, but his shoulders relax visibly with the reprimand. “I’m glad you could come,” he says to Sho and Sho shrugs. It’s not like they’ve never done this before.

“It’s no trouble,” Sho says honestly. Ohno waves at him over the back of the couch.

“I’ll be back later.”

Jun bends over Ohno, but Sho doesn’t see more because the couch is obscuring his view. When Jun rises, he seems older.

He leaves with a terse nod.

“You have to tell him,” the words escape from Sho’s lips before he can stop them. Ohno sits up, folds his arm on the backrest.

“I already did, but he insists on staying.”

Sho lets his eyes wander upwards as if the ceiling can offer him consolation and advice. “Satoshi-kun…”

“I know,” Ohno says and he’s smiling in that way Sho wishes he wouldn’t, feels that a blank face would be better than this. “I can’t give him what he wants. He wants more from me than what I can give him.”

Sho sucks in a breath through his teeth. “And he knows it.”

Ohno nods.

“How are you today?”

And for the first time today, a smile that seems to hold significance graces his face. “I’m good. I feel alive.”

Sho is so relieved. “Glad to hear it. Want to go eat something?”

“Jun will kill me if I go outside,” Ohno chuckles but rises. “It might be time he realizes I don’t like staying in.”

“My treat,” Sho says, looping an arm through Ohno’s when they leave. They skip over a puddle and Ohno’s laugh is crystal clear in the warmer autumn.

*
Aiba sees him again days later, and he still thinks that the man is one of the most beautiful beings he has ever seen. There’s just something about him that Aiba can’t place, something fragile and untouchable.

Aiba is so fascinated.

The man is accompanied by a taller man, a handsome man by all means, but Aiba isn’t jealous the slightest – the man’s eyes are probably as clear and bright as his laugh, and Aiba just wants him to keep laughing. Maybe he won’t be so sad anymore.

But Aiba can’t reign in his curiosity; the same curiosity Nino says will lead him directly into trouble one day. He smiles brightly as the anticipation builds, his stomach flutters, and he waves madly when he makes eye contact with the man.

The man seems surprised, a touch startled, but he smiles and waves back, and Aiba thinks his eyes are kinder than his smile.

“I’m Aiba,” he says, breathless for entirely different reasons than he thinks, and the man’s eyes crinkle.

“Ohno,” the man says and then gestures to the man beside him. “And Sho-kun.”

“Sakurai Sho,” the man offers, smiling politely, and Aiba somehow knows that he’ll have to charm this man to get closer.

Aiba ends up spending the rest of his day with these two strangers, making it his goal to go to sleep later, two friends richer. His goal is to make these strangers into non-strangers, to be able to place their faces with his eyes closed. He can already see how beautifully everything will play out.

He says “Oh-chan” with a laugh and inches closer when he thinks Sho doesn’t notice.

“We better get back, though,” Sho says hours later, relaxed posture belying his words.

Ohno nods and Aiba types his number into Ohno’s cell phone, makes Ohno type his number into Aiba’s own.

“See you,” Ohno says and smiles again.

Aiba makes it his goal to make Ohno’s eyes happier.

*
Jun isn’t blind, nor is he blinded. He sees much more than what he wants to, he hears all the unsaid words and nuances. If he closes his eyes and presses in on his eyelids, he sees stars and it’s beautiful, and for a moment, he can pretend he’s staring at the night sky.

He’s worried, irrationally it seems, but he can’t stop. Another autumn has arrived, another year has passed, reminding him of everything all over again.

Sometimes he wonders if all he is, if all he can be is to be Ohno’s keeper.

Ohno never tells him to stay away, even though he knows Ohno prefers his solitude. But Jun is loyal, he feels the pull on every heartstring working in his chest, with every beat that resounds against his ribcage and he doesn’t have the courage to stop. It’s familiar and he promised long ago that he’d take care.

He can’t be relieved from his promise and he doesn’t want to.

But sometimes in the darkness, he wakes, drenched in nightmares and screams that aren’t his own, and he wishes, just for a moment, that this duty had fallen on someone else.

He feels so guilty afterwards and he does what he can to make the shame disappear from his transparent skin, and he smothers himself with his worry, chokes on his own feelings, and he wishes, above all, that there was just the slightest chance that he could stop feeling like this.

Sho eyes him with not-quite-pity and Jun just fervently wishes he wouldn’t.

He’s pathetic, he’s so full of love he can’t share, and when Ohno smiles at him with gratitude and something else Jun can’t quite identify, he knows there’s no way back.

When Ohno and Sho say that they’ve met someone bright, Jun sees the beginning of the end; that some kind of finality and apex is near.

He suddenly can’t wait even if the thought makes his lungs empty and he gasps for breath.

*
If anything is more dangerous than Aiba’s curiosity, then it’s Aiba’s imagination, Nino thinks and holds in a sigh when Aiba tells him of laughter and smiles and warmth amidst the cooling weather.

“He’s so nice,” Aiba says, again with that wondrous quality, and Nino almost aches.

“I hope you won’t get hurt,” Nino cautions, his usual defense mechanisms long gone. “Promise me you won’t.”

Aiba’s smile turns fond in an entirely different way than when he talks about Ohno-kun. This one says you’re such an idiot but I love you anyway. “I can’t promise you that.”

Nino knows, he can only caution and hope that his words will be heeded in due time.

But when Aiba brings him to meet this Ohno, Nino has to forcefully remind himself to breathe.

“Oh-chan, was it?” he says, so charmed, so ensnared, so enchanted that he doesn’t hear all the blaring bells of warning, doesn’t see all the signs telling him to turn around and stop.

“Nino,” Ohno says in return, and belatedly, Nino sees Aiba shake his head; at that point in time, Nino doesn’t recognize the resignation as it settles heavily on Aiba. When the day is over, Nino knows two more people, but when he closes his eyes, he sees Ohno and his smile, laughter wrinkles, soft hands and softer words.

“He’s magical,” Aiba whispers into the darkness divided chasm between them and Nino nods even though he knows Aiba can’t see him.

Maybe there is something far more dangerous than Aiba’s imagination that already has taken Aiba across journeys in hand with Ohno, across dreamscapes that can render a child speechless. It’s frightening and dangerous, and Nino can taste the temptation right there on the tip of his tongue.

It is more dangerous than Aiba’s imagination – it is Nino himself.

He prays that Aiba doesn’t see it.

*
Ohno walks again, the chill wind dusting his cheeks with pink and he shoves his hands into his pockets again.

He walks a lot these days, like he does every year when the world is orange and cooling. He’s by himself, which is, admittedly, a little weird since he has found himself to be accompanied a lot these days. Whether it’s Jun, Sho or Nino and Aiba, they seem to want to walk with him, and walks are pleasant either way.

His phone vibrates in his pocket against his fingers, resounds in his bones, and he grips it but doesn’t bring it out to look at it. If it’s important, then they’ll call again.

He walks further, out of the park and he glances upward. The sky is clear in that sharp blue light that settles as the year approaches its end. The phone vibrates again and this time, he does bring it out, tugs his gloves off so he can navigate better.

It’s Nino, he thinks with a smile and he accepts the call.

It’s not even an hour later, but the sky is a darkened blue hue with the forthcoming afternoon. However, Ohno doesn’t notice. He’s more occupied with the way the coldness flushes Nino’s skin, the way Nino laughs, embarrassed when he catches Ohno looking, the way Nino smiles as if he holds secrets untold, right there between his fingertips, right there in the hand he offers to Ohno.

Ohno doesn’t hesitate and their hands clasp. Ohno can’t help the wondrous smile that flitters across his face with a naturalness he can’t explain even if he would want to.

Their hands swing mittened between them; Nino’s free hand fits warmly on his upper arm as he points at windows. He looks oddly accomplished when Ohno grins, but Ohno doesn’t fully acknowledge it, not yet, but he likes Nino’s attention as they fall into step, squeezing closer, and their elbows knock. If he were to take his mittens off, it would still be warm.

He doesn’t let go when Nino doesn’t.

*
“Be careful,” Sho cautions and steadies Ohno with a quick hand when he wobbles slightly. “Don’t rise too quickly.”

“It’s just a cold,” Ohno returns with practiced words.

Sho chuckles. He worries, but Ohno is a grown man, and Ohno doesn’t need another keeper. There is loads of other things Ohno keeps close that he wants to know about, however. He doesn’t know if he’ll get answers. “Ninomiya?”

Ohno hums as he walks to the kitchen. “He called yesterday.”

“And?”

“He kept me company.”

“Satoshi-kun,” Sho stars but halts his traitorous words while they’re still behind his teeth. There are several other things Ohno could’ve said, but he still hasn’t said anything that means something. “Was it fun?”

Ohno returns to the living room, hovers next to where Sho is sitting. “He doesn’t expect anything from me,” he says and Sho really sees him. It’s been a long time since then.

“I’m glad,” he opts for saying, and he is, because isn’t it, couldn’t it be a wonderful thing?

Ohno looks thoughtful and Sho is tempted for a long moment to reach out and make sure he’s really there. And then the corner of Ohno’s lips quirk slightly, and Sho wonders how he somehow, for some wonderful reason, seems to be resistant to what everyone else gets drawn to irresistibly.

It might be his best ability.

Ohno is wondrous, though, and Sho can see what draws people to him. Some people fall for his beauty, some fall for his strong gentleness. Most people fall in love with him, with trying to fix what can’t be.

He hopes Nino won’t try and fix him.

“Nino and Aiba-chan are coming tomorrow,” Ohno says then. “You too?”

Sho nods. “They’re nice.”

Ohno hums again and finally sits down. He smoothes fingers over Sho’s worried brow, tilts his head just so. “Sho-chan,” he says and no more.

He’s looking at Sho as if he knows what Sho is thinking and exactly what Sho sees when he looks at him. Perhaps he does. Sho wouldn’t put it past him. Behind that cleverly crafted wall is an observance like few.

“Be careful,” he iterates and then the door to the apartment opens.

Ohno’s smile is as wistful as always. “Jun is back.”

*
Aiba can’t stop staring at Ohno from his seat beside him. Ohno’s laugh is contagious, soft and only audible if you’re really listening, and he leans closer, closer, closer, with every beat and every exhale, every time Ohno lifts the chopsticks to his mouth.

On the opposite side of the table, Aiba knows Nino and Sho sit, but he’s not really paying attention. When the new face, Jun, passes him the meat, Aiba has to look away, and something about Jun makes it impossible to look away.

Jun is polite, courteous, nothing but well-behaved even if he knows neither Aiba nor Nino, but still, he’s wearing a gracious smile.

Jun looks at Ohno in that instant and Aiba sees it, and it sends a shiver down his spine. It’s so obvious and it’s so painful, and Aiba hopes his own eyes aren’t mirrors of Jun’s. But this could be dfferent, Aiba thinks, even as he resists moving closer.

What is it with these people that Ohno surrounds himself with? Do they all end with the same sad eyes as Ohno’s own? Jun has them, Sho has them. It feels horrible, it’s terrifying, but most of all, Aiba still can’t look away, even as he feels the brakes give out.

He sees how Nino looks at Ohno, he sees how Ohno doesn’t mind, but he also sees how Nino fights it. He’s failing, he’s crashing, and are they all somehow doomed to fall together?

When they clear the table, Ohno insists on doing the dishes, even amidst Jun’s protests. Jun takes adamancy to a whole new level altogether, and Aiba starts to believe. There might be other ones in play than just Ohno and these people tied to him with lines thicker than water.

Standing beside him with crossed arms is Nino, leaning back, making small comments, filling the silence that Ohno’s downcast eyes create. Aiba backs out and sits down on the floor, helping Jun with choosing entertainment.

Without any arguments, they settle on a happy movie.

*
It’s not like he didn’t see it coming, but it still hurts.

“You’re moving,” Jun repeats and he feels suddenly breathless, not in the way he usually is when breathing in the same space as Ohno exists. “Moving?”

Ohno wets his lips, looks down, looks up, right past him, everywhere else he can before finally settling on Jun. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

I never meant to keep you, Jun apologizes silently. I was never meant to keep you.

“It also gives you a chance to miss me,” Ohno continues, smiling and chuckling, and Jun knows it’s for his benefit, and he’s grateful even if it pull him right apart as he stands there.

Jun will miss having Ohno in reach, even if he could never catch him. 

“Where will you live?”

“I found an apartment, not far from here,” Ohno explains, suddenly far away – Jun can see how Ohno travels somewhere in his mind. Ohno doesn’t think Jun can tell, but he can. All he can is wait until he gets back again; if he does. It’s a painful longing that he stomps on whenever he can.

“Did Sho go to see it with you?”

To his surprise, and absolute hidden horror, Ohno looks so happy as he shakes his head in affirmation. “I went with Nino the other day.”

It’s not fucking fair, but then again, it never was, and Jun sees himself nod and smile and say alright and when and of course and –

Ohno is moving in the light, Jun thinks, in the fresh, sharp myriads of nuances in the autumn that comes and goes like an unwanted guest. In the haze, Ohno moves across, smiles and turns and swirls, and Jun almost squints. It’s all he can do and he grins, everything he can muster is in those parted lips, and he knows that it’s not over.

*
He awakens with the remnants of haunting dreams hazy on the backs of his eyelids, his hands trembling, and he rises to look out through the blinds. It’s so early.

It’s chilly, it’s cold, but Ohno doesn’t feel it. The first night frost of the year bites at him, but he’s numb to it. He walks and walks, and it seems like he has no destination, but that is the un-truth. The absence of ruthless wind makes his nose prickle with a welcome sting.

Sometimes, he wakes and it’s just too much. Everything and everyone, out of the loop and in the know, he just wants to escape, run far away to a place where he’ll be left alone forever and he can wallow if he wants.

He reaches up and pushes warm air into his cold palms; he cups the warmth and enfolds it in a fingered embrace, holds it close and wishes it would seep through his skin and spread. Sometimes he just feels so cold, cold inside out.

He passes the park, walks further, walks until he reaches the blue and he sits down, feet dangling listlessly. He leans back on one hand, placing the other above his heart, and his fingers clench in the fabric, because he could’ve sworn it hurt for a moment.

If only.

He breathes; he greedily inhales the crisp air, wants to keep it with him to help him live when the walls seem to close in on him and bury him under pressure that shouldn’t be his to bear.

He wants to be bitter.

He wants to be happy for what he’s been given and what he has, and he is for the most part, sometimes, it’s just too hard. There is something inside his chest that rattles painfully whenever he thinks about giving up, there’s something that makes him keep fighting when he’s inches from surrender.

Some days, he folds over and curls in on himself, protects all he can with all he has.

He wishes that someone would call him out on it. He wants no one to come close enough. He wants someone to shake him by his shoulders and force him to stay.

He chuckles mirthlessly. It’s a mystery why Nino is so adamant.

He looks down into the moving water. It swirls and moves and breaks against the pier, against the endless tide.

Someday, the tide will recede.

*
“You have so much crap,” Nino says with a grin and an underhanded chuckle, and he hands the box over to Ohno.

“I’m old,” Ohno returns as if that explains everything. He sets the box down and Nino thinks that he looks a bit overwhelmed, probably at the sheer mess he’s supposed to create a home from.

Nino thinks that Ohno looks like a caged bird at times, as if he’s surrounded by invisible bars that cage him in, keeps him in, as if someone has the thrown the key away and hadn’t bothered to at least tell him if there was another way out. He looks fragile in those moments, but then he’ll look up and then he’ll smile.

Nino likes his smile, even when it’s tinged with melancholy. It adds to his beauty, but Nino is in no hurry to get Ohno to talk. If Ohno doesn’t want to, then Nino will just try and make him smile.

If that fails, he’ll just hold his hand if Ohno will let him.

“It’s a whole life, right here in these boxes,” Ohno says and Nino is worried for a moment, that maybe Ohno has forgotten he’s there. He reaches out and holds on to Ohno’s wrist, presses his thumb to the heel of Ohno’s palm.

“You’re not old,” he says, imagines he can see the words floating from his lips, through the space, reaching Ohno’s ears, worming their way inside to comprehension.

Ohno smiles wryly, doesn’t break from Nino’s hold. “Maybe not.”

“But that doesn’t negate the fact that we really have to start unpacking if you want to get dinner by tonight.”

Together and in silence, they eye the way to the kitchen, blocked by boxes.

“We’ll have it free by tonight,” Nino says with optimism and cheers when Ohno laughs.

*
Aiba sees it when he goes to see Ohno’s new apartment.

“Everything is a bit messy,” Ohno says and ducks his head, and Sho steps up behind him, smiling in welcome.

Nino’s laughter rings from inside.

In the living room, Jun flitters around, sorts the movies meticulously. Aiba settles down, the words clogging and holding back in his throat. Ohno and Nino sit on the couch, sorting through pictures, and they are so sweet that Aiba forgets how to speak. It’s the subtle grin that leaves Ohno’s lips when Nino verbally jabs at him that makes Aiba think.

“Yeah,” Jun says, not lifting his head an inch. “Sometimes, he makes me want to tear my hair out.”

Aiba glances at Ohno again, but the pair seems to ignore everything. Ignore or don’t hear. Not listening. Tuned out.

“No one is allowed to be that oblivious,” Jun continues, squeezing a movie in between to others. “But he’s sweet. And he doesn’t even see it. And I care for him. We all do. You do.”

Aiba thinks he should feel indignant that someone still a stranger makes assumptions, but he can’t, not when it’s the truth, because this is not how his imagination has played out countless times already. But even as he wants the join the choir of singing unhappiness, he can’t, because Nino is glowing.

“They don’t even know it,” Jun continues, takes a deep breath that comes out as shuddery, but he still doesn’t look up, doesn’t look up at Aiba, doesn’t look away from his attempt at creating order on the shelf.

“They just don’t see it,” Aiba hushes, and he doesn’t even feel angry. He doesn’t even have the right to, and he can’t bring himself to feel anything other than resignation.

“Satoshi doesn’t want to see it,” Jun offers, finally stilling his hands. “He’d stay forever blind if he could.”

Aiba will be happy at some point, he knows. For now, he’ll just find small pieces of happiness in knowing that it is better for him to back out now than later. He’s sure that at some point, Nino’s stubbornness will win out, will lure Ohno out of his hiding.

Aiba doesn’t think twice about reaching out to lend Jun strength. He looks like he needs it.

*
“He’s pushing me away,” Nino is saying and Sho gives up trying to find out just how Aiba and Nino have wormed their ways into his life in such a short time.

Nino’s face is a glorious painting of worry and annoyance – he’s irritated, he’s stubborn, and he’s anxious, because every attempt he makes has been shot down.

Sho knows this, has seen it all before, and he seriously doubts it’ll be the last time. “Satoshi-kun is good at that,” he concedes, and that might be all he’s ready and willing to divulge. For now.

The edges around the truth are blurring and he’s tucking the secrets into his heart, because they are Ohno’s to tell, for them to know and Nino to find out if he’s ever let that close. Sho hopes he’ll keep trying, insistent like the approaching winter that will eventually take over the cooling autumn.

The harried look that Nino carries with him like an ill-kept secret is becoming in a morbidly fascinating way, and Sho wants to see it stay, as if that would somehow be proof enough for him that it’s not a bad choice to make.

“It’s up to you,” Sho continues softly. “To let him do it or to fight his decisions.”

Nino sighs; something moves behind his eyes. Sho isn’t sure what, but he hopes he’ll identify it before the first snow falls. He doesn’t why it feels significant, but it does, and the knowledge of a race against time and space leaves him entirely breathless.

It’s not even him running in the marathon, or maybe it is, sometimes Sho loses sight of what he’s doing, of what he should be doing.

This is Nino’s fight and Sho can’t and won’t do anything. He supposes he should help pick Jun up instead, but Jun is isolating himself and Sho doesn’t even know anymore.

Nino sighs again, weary but a touch steely and Sho feels the flame from across the table as it awakens. Nino’s fingers tighten on the edge of the table.

“But Aiba-chan,” Nino says, swallowing the lump Sho is willing to be is catching in his throat, hindering more than just syllables and utterances of truth and error.

“Aiba-san is strong,” Sho says and means it.

Nino’s world-weary look lightens, his shoulders straighten and he fixes Sho with a glare that sends shivers right down to his toes. “Just like Jun-kun. See to him.”

See to yours and I’ll see to mine, Sho hears instead of the veiled words he’d expected, but it means no less and Sho is somewhat reassured. He hopes Nino can bear the burdens without falling.

*
Jun fears the day more than anything else.

Ohno looks hollow and transparent these days, but Jun isn’t wanted and he can’t step in anymore. Sho’s hushed warning echo in his mind, brushes against his consciousness with frightening intensity that makes him want to turn tail and flee.

But Ohno fades with the coming winter, fades with the autumn colors that seem to whisk him away. Jun hopes, not for the first time, that he’d been allowed to hold him here, contain what slips away from right between his fingertips, just out of his grasp no matter how much he tightens his hold.

It’s impossible and he breaches the topic even though he knows it’ll spell disaster. Sho warns him, but it’s too late for warnings that ring insincerely when they all know it won’t matter in the end.

Ohno withdraws faster than he’d anticipated, ducks his head, crawls in on himself like a turtle, and Jun feels frightened for a moment as one of Ohno’s hands clutches at his shirt, just above his heart, presses flat and then relaxes.

“I’m fine,” Ohno says, but his eyes betray him, but Jun can’t say otherwise as long as Ohno moves out of his reach.

“You’d tell me I if – if – ” but Jun can’t bring himself to say the words, his lips won’t form them and he curses his own betraying heart.

Ohno doesn’t say anything, doesn’t promise more than what he is sure he can give, because it’s always been like that. Maybe that’s why he’s letting Ninomiya closer, because it’s not like it’s always been, Nino is unpredictable like Jun has never been able to be.

“Tell him,” Jun pleads, and it tastes like bile, bitter and shameful and tired right there on the angle of his tongue, almost dripping down into his throat, but he keeps his back straight. Tell him all the things you don’t tell me but I know anyway by the hand of fate. Tell him all the things you can’t tell me.

Ohno isn’t convinced, Jun can see it, see it with how the walls slam into place in front of his eyes, and it materializes before Jun can reach to stop it from happening.

The chill settles around his shoulders like a damp blanket that soaks his skin. If he closes his eyes, he imagines the crystal dew falling on him, makes him likely to freeze and shatter as morning comes after a long, cold night.

But even if Ohno will never see him for what he wants him to see, he will only ask one thing of Ohno yet. He owes it to Ohno after being his keeper for so long.

“Tell him, he doesn’t deserve this.”

Ohno’s jaw clenches, and Jun swears he sees defeat.

The orange and red contrast with Ohno’s pallor with a painful beauty.

*
Nino thinks he should be frightened, and he is, but he’s not frightened for himself. The words that tumble out from between the space between Ohno’s lips are formidable in their quiet, and he shivers.

My heart, Ohno says with a hush, and he’s not looking up. Nino is almost, very nearly, quick enough, and he reaches for Ohno’s wrist like always, but Ohno wrenches and turns and runs and flees before Nino has an honest chance of catching up or process.

Wait, don’t go, Nino calls with each thud of his heart, earnestly and he fights, runs, and underneath the steady drum, under the falling orange and red, Nino leaps and catches and he won’t allow Ohno run.

I don’t care, Nino says, he repeats it as he tugs Ohno closer – Ohno who struggles until the very last inch and even then, it’s only when Nino breathes into his neck. Let me close, let me know, let me see all you’ve never dared to show.

Ohno resists, but he doesn’t run.

One day, Ohno promises later. “If I still remember you.”

“I won’t let you forget,” Nino vows and their clasped hands are strong in head on adversity.

Nino wonders at Ohno’s smile and for a moment, it’s enough.

Maybe no one has ever said that to Ohno and meant it. Perhaps ample has said it but not meant it. Even more may have said it and meant it until they were faced with Ohno’s heart. Nino doesn’t know and he doesn’t care, really.

He fingers at the edge of his heart, finds the courage to not try and do what Ohno expects of him.

Instead, he jabs at Ohno’s side, inches his fingers under the edge of Ohno’s shirt – the smooth skin is gloriously warm against his autumn cold fingertips. Ohno’s breath catches in his throat as ghostly touches near his core, but he’s not as skittish as Nino would’ve thought. Instead, he steps a bit closer and they fall in step.

“It doesn’t have to be so cold,” Nino says and curls his fingers into Ohno’s, grips his wrist above the mitten in the warmth of the sleeve.

Ohno doesn’t say anything, but he steps slower, he breathes out and watches his warm breath disappear into the Fall.

*
“That’s not what I said – ” Nino says, his voice rising to tower over Ohno’s.

Ohno is entirely unimpressed, stuffing his face. “You so did,” he says between mouthfuls and Nino looks playfully indignant.

Sho is amused. Nino sneaks meat on Ohno’s plate when Ohno isn’t paying attention, and Ohno fills Nino’s glass without being asked, and Sho can’t believe he doubted this for even a fraction of a second.

It’s breathtaking – Ohno seems younger, somehow both more and less fragile than he has in years. He no longer seems like he’s disappearing with every gulp of air that leaves his lungs.

“Yeah, but only if you would move – ”

“I already did!”

Nino glares and Ohno puts the chopsticks in Nino’s mouth, grinning when Nino tries to pout around the obstacles.

“Well,” Sho says and puts his own chopsticks down. “I have to get back to work. Satoshi-kun, remember, right?”

“Doctor’s appointment,” Nino quips and it’s his turn to grin when Ohno sulks.

Sho chuckles.

It seems that burdens shared are burdens lightened, and maybe Ohno would work better in twos.

He’d been wrong to worry at all.

*
It isn’t fair, Jun thinks, but it lacks the usual accompanying feeling of bitter resentment that normally visits him.

He watches Aiba and wonders if he could look like that, like someone who fought valiantly but surrendered before the casualty was too great. Jun chuckles humorlessly.

For that, it is far too late. But Jun mends his broken heart with time, searches the hidden crevices, sees every corner and walls that the cracks have revealed and left bare. He watches Aiba watch Ohno and Nino, and Aiba looks like he’s at peace.

One day, Jun will arrive at that place, he’ll relish being there, and he will look at Ohno without the choking regret paralyzing him. And he’s already getting there, he realizes, because maybe the first step was discovering that Ohno could function without Jun watching his every movement.

Maybe he could live now, he thinks, his breathing easier than ever. He had never been meant to keep, and perhaps it was time. He could throw the cages away, release what he’d kept away for years, and he could move forward and not look back.

He could never begrudge it, he could never hate or resent what he was never meant to have.

He tells himself it’s okay to feel the what ifs, it’s not that bad when his heart knows it was never meant to be. Maybe he’d fallen in love with taking care of someone, of having someone being dependent on him. The thought scares him, because he’d never wish that upon himself, and never again on anyone else. He shivers when he thinks about being kept.

One day, he will apologize – he’ll say sorry for all the things Ohno never hated him for, for everything Ohno should’ve hated him for, and for all Jun never realized while he was close enough.

For now, he sets Ohno free and watches his flight across time.

*
“I was never really in love,” Aiba says to Nino one night. The movies have long since been abandoned and the black screen is forgotten. Nino is on the floor, staring up in the dark, and Aiba wonders if he’s imagining he can see the adventures that await.

Nino turns – Aiba can hear it.

“Yeah?”

Aiba knows it’s true. He was in love with love at first sight. Nino is more beautiful with Ohno that Aiba had ever imagined he could be.

“Yeah,” Aiba smiles and it feels good.

He’s still allowed to tackle Ohno in a flying hug when he arrives the next evening for dinner, he’s still allowed to cling and ruffle and love Ohno – it’s just that Nino loves Ohno more, he deserves Ohno for always trying to be the best possible he can for Aiba. It’s such a beautiful sight when two deserving people meet, and now Aiba thinks he’ll shove Nino at Ohno all he can.

Which Nino pretends to be grumpy about, complains and says that Aiba is too violent, and seriously watch it, don’t hurt me or him.

Aiba squees a bit. “I’m your biggest fan.”

Nino glares and throws an arm around Ohno’s shoulder. “You are weird.”

But that’s okay with Aiba, because he’s happy and he feels it right down to his toes, it tingles under his skin, and his imagination is as vivid as always. Now, instead of seeing only Ohno’s fingers laced in his, he sees Nino there, he sees Sho and Matsujun, recovered and happy and bright like Aiba knows he can be.

He’s happy now. He doesn’t know why some days Ohno looks like everything is on the verge of falling apart, but he’s fine without that knowledge, because Nino has found a way to battle those sad eyes.

With the strength of heart and clasped hands, Aiba stands by and cherishes the friends he’s gained, and he’s thankful that Ohno waved back that day in the early, beautiful autumn.

*
The last leaves are on the verge of falling, they hang on with the vestiges of stubborn strength that was promised in the last days of the faded summer. The air turns crisper, the wind is cold, and every time he steps outside, he’s freezing.

But he’s inside, he’s looking out at the naked trees, sees the last rays coloring the sky a glorious pink, he’s curled up under a blanket and his feet are prodding at Nino’s.

“Your feet are cold,” he says softly. He’s not complaining, it’s just a statement, but Nino presses their feet closer by sheer stubbornness anyway, his lips curling and Ohno wants to touch the corners of his mouth.

“But you’re warm,” Nino returns, vindicated, and Ohno turns his palm underneath he blanket when he feels fingers seeking his own.

With his free hand, he presses his palm to Nino’s chest, right above his heart, and it’s reassurance beating there against his skin, he can feel the rhythm settle and he takes it in.

It’s autumn, but Ohno doesn’t notice it so much anymore. He used to live and measure by each autumn that come and go, and normally the memories surge forward before he can control it, but it seems like he didn’t even notice it this time.

Nino doesn’t let him relieve everything, doesn’t let him hold on to the memories that don’t matter. Nino is right there with him, creating memories.

It doesn’t matter if his heart doesn’t beat anymore. Nino’s own is steady against the heart of his palm and Ohno catches it and holds on to it.

The last leaf falls but Ohno doesn’t see it.

It’s winter.

Ohno isn’t falling anymore.

*