Chapter Text
Aiba fidgets nervously in the entrance of the building, waiting for Nino to respond. There’s a click from the intercom, and Aiba peers into the camera.
“No way,” comes Nino’s voice through the speakers.
“Hi. Can I come up?”
“Can I say no?” There’s a whir, and the doors that Aiba are waiting in front of slide apart to let him into the lift lobby.
Aiba can’t move his legs.
“Aiba-kun. The doors will close in a second—”
There’s a beeping overhead that accelerates alarmingly, and Aiba scuttles forward. The doors shut behind him. He gulps. There’s no turning back now.
Twelve floors above and an agonising minute later, Aiba is standing in front of Nino’s apartment, gripping the strap of his bag so hard that his knuckles are turning white. Nino is there too, looking small in the large entryway, wearing a T-shirt that’s seen better days and beach shorts that look just as poor.
“I didn’t look you up in the directory,” are the first words that come out of Aiba’s mouth.
Nino just stands there.
“Sakurai-san sent me here,” Aiba goes on.
At this, Nino’s brow furrows. “Wait, what?”
“He came to look for me at the dealership today. We spent about an hour at the family restaurant talking about how to get you to write the story again, and our conclusion was I had to come see you.”
Nino groans, then presses his fingers against his eyes. “Why did he even approach you? He shouldn’t have gotten you involved!”
“He thinks I can change your mind.” Aiba shuts his eyes, marshalling all the courage he has at his disposal. “And I think I can too.”
“Oh really?” Nino scoffs, then backs into the apartment, looking resigned. He drops a pair of house slippers at Aiba’s feet. “Come in.”
Nino’s home is, surprisingly, sparkling clean and minimally furnished. Aiba was expecting some kind of gamer’s den, but the living room is void of game consoles, as far as he can see, and as he follows Nino to the dining table, where Nino asks him to sit, he sees a laptop atop the surface, its screen showing an online shopping portal: Nino was looking at toilet paper. It makes Aiba a lot less nervous; he clamps down on a laugh.
“I have mugicha and iced coffee,” says Nino.
“Mugicha,” says Aiba. Nino nods and walks into the kitchen space, separated from the dining table by a formica counter that hosts a cute little houseplant Aiba doesn’t know the name of. He retrieves a tumbler of barley tea from his fridge and pours it into a glass, then places it on the counter. Aiba takes the glass, saying his thanks.
“So Sakurai just showed up at your work and decided it was a good idea for you to come knocking on my door at ten-thirty on a weekday night?” asks Nino, visibly irritated.
“He is a very persuasive man.”
Nino grunts. “I don’t know what he was thinking. Sorry.”
Aiba smiles, shaking his head. “I did agree to come. He said you were having problems with the ending.”
“Look, I don’t know what he said to you to convince you you could help,” Nino heaves an almighty sigh, “but I know you can’t so I think you should just finish your tea and go home.” Nino’s eyes flick to the clock. “You have work tomorrow, right? God, what was Sakurai thinking? Does he know you don’t live nearby? Maybe I should give you a ride.” Nino stops. “Unless you don’t want me to know where you live.”
Aiba looks at Nino for a moment. “Nino, I think I want to give you back the money.”
Nino purses his lips. “Seriously, Aiba-kun? We’re back on this again? I told you, I can’t pay you for only three dates when you gave me so much of your time and effort.”
“I’m not talking about the extra time. I’m talking about all of the money.”
Nino looks lost.
Aiba reaches into his bag and pulls out two envelopes. They’re stuffed with cash; he stopped by an ATM before coming to Nino’s place. He holds the envelopes with both hands.
“Ninomiya-san,” Aiba takes a deep breath, “how much do you make as an author?”
Nino stills. There’s a long silence.
“I make enough,” rasps Nino finally.
“And how many hours do you work a day?”
Nino’s mouth hardens into a thin line. “Did you come here just to humiliate me? To make me feel bad about asking a complete stranger for a ridiculous favour?”
Aiba is shocked by this assumption, then realises Nino taking this the wrong way wasn’t part of the plan. “I’m not trying to humiliate you—”
“How is this helping me write the ending?” Nino raises his voice, the rims of his eyes red, his gaze fierce. “You come to my home, telling me you and Sakurai hatched an idea, and then you whip out all this cash and say all these lines like you're in a fucking play—”
“I’m trying to get you back, you idiot!” Aiba hates that he’s yelling, hates that he’s got tears clouding his vision, hates that Nino isn’t just getting it. “If I give you back the money, it’ll mean I was never working for you. And if I was never working for you, we wouldn’t have been fake boyfriends.” Aiba gets to his feet in a rush, toppling the chair he was sitting on. He glares at Nino, dragging his sleeve across his cheeks to wipe away the tears. “I don’t want to be fake with you. I wasn’t faking any of it.”
It takes a second for his shock to subside, but Nino eventually gathers his wits and looks Aiba in the eye.
“You really should’ve led with that.”
Aiba lets out a sob and dumps his face into his hands, and then Nino is beside him, rubbing his back and making soothing noises, before having the gall to laugh and call Aiba silly. Aiba shoves Nino away and aims a kick at his butt, which Nino dodges.
“Very mature,” remarks Nino, before pulling a couple of tissues out from a box resting on the kitchen counter and handing them to Aiba. Aiba snatches them out of Nino’s hand ungraciously and blows his nose.
“You ruined everything,” says Aiba, amidst his sniffles.
Nino grins. “Did you plan to ask me to be your boyfriend at the end of your little presentation?”
Aiba throws his tissues at Nino. “Yes.”
“Disgusting,” says Nino as he swerves to avoid Aiba’s attack, but he’s laughing. “Not you. I meant the tissues.” Nino pauses to think. “But maybe you as well, yeah.”
“I don’t know why I even like you, you’re such an ass.” Aiba rights the fallen chair, sits on it, pits his forehead against the heels of his palms, and moans.
“Up until today I thought you were acting,” says Nino, making Aiba look up. “On all of our dates, I kept thinking: ‘Wow, this guy’s a great actor. Pity he’s a mechanic.’ Turns out you’re really just... a mechanic.”
Aiba doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He ends up doing both. “You really gutted me, you know?” Aiba’s face crumples further at the memory. “Saying I could look you up in the company records if I wanted and all that.”
“And you gutted me, saying you wanted to be in love with me for only a day,” says Nino softly.
Aiba’s breath gets caught in his throat. “When did I say that?”
“At the train museum,” says Nino blandly. “‘Today’s special’, you said. ‘Let me be in love with you just for a day’, you said. When I asked you why, you said it was because I deserved it. Like you were rewarding me for whatever I was paying you, and then it’ll all be over once our time was up.”
“You got me wrong, then.”
Nino comes to sit beside Aiba. “It was always really hard for me to forget I was paying you to be my boyfriend, but there were moments you made it easy. That really scared me, which made me realise I was starting to have feelings for you.”
A ticklish warmth burgeons in Aiba's chest as he sees Nino looking shier than he's ever seen him. “Which is why I came tonight to give you back the money,” says Aiba.
“…We really need to talk about your logical reasoning skills.”
Aiba socks Nino in the arm.
Nino rubs the sore spot. “I’m serious. You giving me back the money wouldn’t reverse the fake boyfriend action. It's already happened. Nothing's gonna erase it.”
“Sakurai-san said the exact same thing when I told him I was going to give you back the money.”
Nino cracks up. Aiba is not amused. “Sakurai-san also said it was likely you wanted to change the ending of the story because it hit too close to home,” says Aiba, remembering. “What does that mean?”
“It means that bastard knows me too well,” mutters Nino, scuffing his foot on the floor. “How much of the story did he tell you about?”
“Not much, but I know it’s about a man who’s just realised he’s gay and rents his first boyfriend to see what having one feels like.”
“Ah, okay. Spoiler: they don’t end up together.”
“Oh.”
“But that’s for the readers to interpret. They’re riding a train, yeah? And one of them gets off, ending the fake boyfriend relationship. The other waits until the doors are about to close, then gets to his feet. That’s it. That’s how it ends. You won’t know if he chases after the other guy, or if the doors shut on him.”
“But in your head, they don’t end up together.”
“Yup.”
“So you were thinking of, what, changing the ending to one where they definitely end up together?”
“Or an ending in which they were definitely broken up.”
“But you couldn’t decide.”
Nino nods. “I couldn’t decide.”
“Because you couldn’t decide whether to hope for me or just forget me.” Aiba decides since all his cards are on the table, he might as well speak frankly.
Nino seems to be feeling the same way. “That is correct.”
Aiba gestures to the space between them. “But this isn’t merely hope. You know that, right? I’m literally in your house, telling you I want to be with you. Separating fact from fiction.”
“I know that now.” Nino gives a small smile.
Aiba inhales, nodding. “I think the current ending is fine.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’ve read all six of your books, Nino. Your endings are always like that. And they're good. You should stick to your brand. How the characters end up doesn't have to be determined by how we end up.”
Nino leans in, a spark in his eyes, almost bumping noses with Aiba. "Or maybe I should surprise my readers with something different."
They're barely an inch apart; Aiba wills for Nino to kiss him, but he doesn't. Seconds pass with them silently daring the other, and just when Aiba seriously considers giving in, Nino presses a hand to the nape of Aiba's neck. "Show me how non-fiction tastes like?" comes Nino's quasi-surrender.
Aiba laughs, then closes the distance between their lips.
***
“So,” says Ohno, schooling his face innocent as he comes to sit beside Aiba on the sofa, “you didn’t come home last night.”
Aiba keeps his eyes on the TV a second longer; he takes his time to munch through his mouthful of crisps.
Ohno sips on his water.
“I asked him to be my boyfriend,” blurts Aiba, stiffly offering his bag of crisps to Ohno, a plea to not judge him too hard.
Ohno shakes his head and pats his tummy. “Diet.”
“Ah.”
They sit there, unmoving, Ohno expectant, Aiba antsy.
“I need to know you’re okay,” says Ohno, tone serious now.
His words move Aiba. He used to say the same thing to Ohno, almost every day, when Ohno was surviving his messy divorce. Ohno was always open with him, and never lost his temper with Aiba for probing.
“I’m okay,” says Aiba, but he can’t stop here. It was a rule he made for Ohno, and he knows Ohno will hold him to the same standard. “There was a bit of a misunderstanding. He thought I was faking it.”
“And you weren’t?” Ohno’s eyes are searching.
“I guess I didn’t know I wasn’t faking it until it hurt.” Aiba manages a smile. “But we talked, and I got him back. I gave him back his money, too. This way we were never fake, see?”
“Aiba-chan.” Ohno exhales. “Things seem to be moving so fast, and from one extreme to another.”
“I know,” says Aiba. “But it can’t be helped. It’s the way we got to know each other.”
Ohno gives a slow nod. "You gave him back the money? I thought the reason why you did this in the first place was because of your dad?"
"Well, my dad's been clear about how we still have time to deal with his restaurant. Love, on the other hand, isn't something I can wait around for."
“Love, huh." Ohno doesn't look completely bought over. He strokes his chin, pensive. "What does this guy do again?"
That’s when Aiba decides he needs to bring Nino home.
***
“I’m a bit nervous,” confesses Nino in the car, as they drive to Aiba’s apartment after Nino has picked him up from work.
“Why?” asks Aiba, fiddling on his phone as he tries to figure out how to use the UberEats app. It’s his first time trying to order food from the internet; he usually just puts in a phone call, but ever since he started dating Nino he’s been inspired to be more tech-savvy because Nino is really good with tech and Aiba wants to stop pitying himself for being rubbish at it in comparison.
“For many reasons.” Nino stops at a red light. “Ohno-san isn’t just your roommate. He’s your best friend.”
“You were great with my parents, though.”
“That’s different. I’m very good at charming parents. Best friends? Tough crowd. They know too much.”
“Maybe I should tell my parents you paid me to go out with you the first couple of dates. That’ll level the playing field.”
“Once again—I think we should reassess your logical reasoning skills. Losing favour with your parents doesn’t make me feel better about possibly not gaining favour with your best friend.”
“See? You know what I’m saying.”
“Just because I hear the words and comprehend them doesn’t mean I think they’re of sound logic. It just means I know how your mind works.”
Aiba laughs. “Isn’t that all that matters?”
The car starts moving again. Nino doesn’t refute Aiba’s point. Aiba grins and reaches for his hand, the one that’s not on the wheel. “You know, you did take the money back,” says Aiba.
“I didn’t do it because I thought you made sense.”
There’s a lot that Nino says that conveys what he isn’t saying, and Aiba doesn’t know if it’s wishful thinking on his part or if he’s actually that in tune with Nino, but he really does feel like he’s cracked a code: through all the barbs and jokes, Aiba thinks he knows exactly what Nino is trying to tell him. On some level it does make a lot of sense: because of what they’ve been through, his brain is now able to sift through all the nonsense Nino comes up with to divert his fears and insecurities, and read them in an inverted, circuitous way to accurately interpret Nino’s feelings. Aiba can only guess it takes being pushed away by Nino to understand how he loves.
“Why do you like me?” asks Aiba, wondering out loud.
Nino takes his eyes off the road for the briefest of moments to shoot Aiba a look of horror.
“I’m not trying to be difficult.” A giggle escapes Aiba. “I was just thinking how we’ve known each other for a really short time but you already know me inside out. I don’t have anything else I can hide from you. And you still like me. Isn’t that scary?”
“It is, but it’s a little less scary when I know it’s the same for you.” Nino gently draws his hand out of Aiba’s to make a left turn. “And I didn’t mean to end up knowing you inside out. That was purely an accident.”
“I guess that’s what you get for starting a relationship off fake and having it end up laughably real, huh?”
Nino laughs. “That’s one way to put it, yeah.”
“I don’t think it’s supposed to be this easy, Nino. It’s worrying,” Aiba sighs, “almost like we’re jinxing ourselves.”
The navigation system tells Nino their destination is 500 metres on the right. He switches lanes. “It’s not easy,” says Nino, “it’s just honest.”
“That is such a great way of summing it up.” Aiba breaks into a wide grin. “So, be honest: why do you like me?”
“Well,” says Nino, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a really nice person.”
“You like me because I’m nice? Nino, the postman’s nice.”
“You asked me a question and I answered, what more do you want from me?”
“Some interesting adjectives?” suggests Aiba.
“You tell me why you like me, then. Let’s see if you have interesting adjectives to offer.”
“That’s a trap.”
“Ha. You noticed.”
“You don’t have to trick me into telling you why I like you, you know. I can babble off a list anytime.”
“Go on.”
“Just so you know, I’m willingly falling into this trap, so it’s not really a trap.”
“Whatever you say. You know my stance on your powers of reasoning.” Nino enters a coin-operated carpark that’s across from Aiba’s building and starts reversing the car into a space.
“I like you because you’re, um, talented and smart and handsome and kind?”
Nino bursts into a series of raspy giggles. “Good job. Nice adjectives.”
“I could come up with more if we’re talking about what I don’t like about you?”
“Oi.”
“You’re a picky eater, your posture is horrendous, you’re a bit of a penny-pincher and, for an actor, you’re actually not a very good kisser.”
“I said ‘adjectives’, not ‘abuse’.”
“You just said our relationship is an honest one. I’m just living up to it.”
Nino kills the engine. He unbuckles his seatbelt, then faces Aiba. “I like you because you make me laugh. I like you because you’re not afraid to tell me how insufferable I am. I like you because you’re clever in so, so many ways.” Nino comes up close, hand bracing the side of Aiba’s neck. “I like you because you’re a good person. And you’re good to me. For me. That’s why I like you.” He closes his mouth on Aiba’s to punctuate his declaration. “How’s this for a bad kisser?”
Aiba adds ‘eloquent’ to the list of things he finds irresistible about Nino.
It’s eight by the time they arrive at the apartment, and Ohno opens the door to them, looking quite starstruck as he takes Nino in.
“Wow, it’s really him,” says Ohno, pulling Aiba into the kitchen the first moment he can.
Aiba snorts. “Oh-chan, I’ve been telling you for weeks I’m dating Ninomiya Kazunari.”
“I know. I didn’t completely buy it.”
“I showed you pictures, Oh-chan.”
“Could’ve been edited.” Ohno looks over his shoulder. “Ninomiya Kazunari’s in our house. How.”
Aiba turns to look at Nino too. He waves at them from the living room. Aiba waves back.
“I’m gonna kill you if this is a prank,” whispers Ohno. “I know there are TV programmes that play pranks on regular people, okay?”
“This is not a prank.” Aiba ditches the emergency roommate meeting and marches out of the kitchen. “Nino, Oh-chan doesn’t believe we’re dating. He thinks it’s a prank and a TV crew is gonna rush out any minute yelling ‘gotcha’.”
“Aiba-chan,” hisses Ohno, looking embarrassed.
Nino chuckles. “I’m too much of a has-been to even be considered as a guest for those shows, so you can relax.”
Over Chinese food (that Aiba successfully ordered through the app), Nino is properly introduced to Ohno: he learns that Aiba’s and Ohno’s parents were childhood friends, and the two didn’t really know each other until after Aiba came to live with Ohno’s family at 17 to attend a technical college in Tokyo. They find out Ohno has never read any of Nino’s novels, but followed a few of Nino’s dramas quite closely because his ex would record them and he’d watch them on the weekends. Nino also asks all sorts of questions about how Aiba was like as a teenager; Ohno asks if Nino has ever watched Aiba play basketball. Nino says no. Ohno says he has to, because Aiba is the coolest.
Nino is staying the night, and Aiba suggests he use the bath first; Nino says sure, and leaves Ohno and Aiba alone, likely knowing the roommates have things to talk about.
“He seems like a good guy,” says Ohno, when they’re in the kitchen and he’s washing beer glasses.
Aiba grins, tying up a bag of food containers, the aftermath of dinner. “You think so?”
Ohno nods. “He makes you forget that he’s famous, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty down-to-earth.”
“And he likes you a lot.” Ohno exchanges a smile with Aiba. “The way he looks at you, the way he listens to you, the way he makes digs at you—”
Aiba’s face grows hot. “Gah, stop it.”
“I’m relieved.” Ohno is looking very fond. “Thank you.”
***
“What are you celebrating?” asks Jun, placing the two flutes of champagne on the counter.
Aiba jabs a thumb in Nino’s direction. “He submitted a story to his editors.” Nino’s puts on an insincere smile, the one that squeezes his cheeks against his eyes, minimising them, and he gives a deep bow. It makes Jun laugh.
“Congratulations,” says Jun, bowing back as Aiba and Nino clink glasses. “What kind of stories do you write?”
It’s Nino’s second time at the bar, and it was his idea to come here tonight to celebrate not only the completion of the story, but also the six-month anniversary of when he and Aiba first met. Nino gives a non-committal shrug at Jun’s question. “Mainly modern fantasy romance.” He cocks his head in Aiba’s direction. “But this one’s kind of about my boyfriend.”
Aiba looks up from his drink in surprise. Nino doesn’t seem to notice, and continues chatting with Jun.
Later, when Jun is talking to another customer, Aiba turns to Nino and says:
“So.”
Nino’s drink pauses on its way to his lips. “What?”
“You told Matsujun I’m your boyfriend.”
“But you are...?” Nino looks baffled.
“You’ve never said it.”
“Did I have to? You literally announced it to him the last time we were here.”
Aiba shrugs. “That was before.”
Nino knows exactly what ‘before’ means. “Does it matter?”
“I don’t know.” Aiba feels uncomfortable. He wonders where all this insecurity is coming from.
“It doesn’t make sense to tell Massan we weren’t boyfriends when we came the last time, even though we said we were, but ‘now we’re boyfriends so everything’s cool!’ He’s gonna think we’re weird.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
Nino bumps elbows with Aiba. “Do you not want me to call you my boyfriend?”
“No, it’s just—” Aiba grapples for the words. “I’ve always been the one saying that, and you’ve never, and I...”
There is a drawn-out silence. Aiba fiddles with his coaster. Nino just looks at him the entire time.
“Aiba-san,” Nino finally speaks, “how much do you make as a mechanic?”
Aiba’s head snaps up. “What?”
“Just answer me.”
“Um, I think my last paycheque was two hundred and thirty-one thousand yen.”
Nino raises his eyebrows. “You got a raise.”
“Just for the month,” says Aiba, wondering where Nino is going with this.
“Would you be interested in a long-term project that pays you nothing?” says Nino, his voice bone-dry.
“How long is long-term?” Aiba finally catches on, and breaks into a grin.
“Decades, if things work out,” says Nino, cavalier.
“Why me?”
Nino shrugs. “I’ve met you and I like you.”
“Before I say yes—what’s the job?”
Nino takes a sip of his drink and keeps his face impassive. “Be my real boyfriend.”
There’s a beat, then Aiba cracks up. Nino leans sideways against him, dissolving into giggles. “Oh my god,” groans Nino into Aiba’s shoulder.
Aiba laughs even harder. “Yeah, that was pretty cheesy.”
“But it’s what you wanted to hear, right?” Nino nudges Aiba’s knee with his own under the bar counter. “Since I’ve never properly asked.”
Aiba feels like a mess of happy emotions. “I wouldn’t call that properly asking, though,” he says, and Nino laughs. Aiba takes a deep breath, trying to catch his soaring heart. “And how long did you say the project will be?”
Nino’s mirth ebbs away into something more serious. “You heard me.”
Aiba holds Nino’s gaze for a moment longer, then waves to Jun. “Is there any more champagne in our bottle?” asks Aiba.
Jun smiles. “Last two flutes.”
“We’ll have them now, thanks. Also, do you have a pen?”
Nino looks on in nervous amusement as Aiba receives the pen from Jun, flips his coaster, and starts writing on its blank side. When he’s done, he signs his name, and slides the coaster over to Nino.
“We didn’t have a contract the first time,” explains Aiba.
Jun hands them their fresh flutes of champagne, discreetly puts a new coaster down for Aiba, then steps away to give them some privacy; Aiba waits for Nino to finish reading what he's written. Silently, Nino opens his palm to ask for the pen, and Aiba gives it to him. Nino signs his name, then returns the coaster to Aiba. Aiba holds the coaster up with both hands and studies it, then gives a satisfactory nod before storing it safely in his breast pocket. He picks up his wine for a toast, and Nino does the same.
“What if we’re still alive after sixty years?” asks Nino as their glasses clink.
“I’ll let you renew the contract,” says Aiba, and they share a laugh.