Chapter Text
In the early months of Arashi's career, back when they were still stuck wearing off-black suits that were two sizes too large and were being taught the proper way to laugh on camera so only a decent amount of teeth showed, Sho-chan had made a passing comment about how hilarious it would be if the five of them lived together.
Aiba, now, in what pretty much constituted seniority for idol stars, remembers neither the exact time, the exact setting, nor the exact conversation that had brought about that remark from Sho, spoken so casually, with the lilt of a laugh at the end, as if Sho himself couldn't even take the thought seriously for the three seconds it took to voice it. What Aiba does remember, though, is the way that his heart thudded in his chest when he'd heard it: a deep, resonant lub-dub that caused a shift in the way Aiba's young blood pumped through his veins.
He hadn't even been that big on Arashi in those days. It was still mostly surreal to him, the non-stop camera-persistent life he had been pushed into, him, some dumb kid who wanted to play basketball with SMAP. The only truth he could claim was that being in Arashi was hard work, but it was really fun sometimes too, because the other members were cool people. Living with them in a big house would probably be fun as well.
That moment, in that evening in that year in that decade, hadn't been the best opportunity to seek out elaboration on such an idea, and even Aiba, made up of 80% eagerness and 20% realism, had known it then. But against the biting wind of their night-filming schedule, the background noise of Nino and Jun's bickering, the sluggish brush of Captain's shoulder against Aiba's as they waited for their next scene, and the chaos whirring around them consisting of overly patient and talented staff members convinced that five skinny teenagers were going to be the Next Big Thing, Aiba had taken the effort to tuck away Sho's precious words in the back recesses of his mind, like a squirrel storing an acorn in the earth for the oncoming winter.
Arashi's winter, though literally quite the very opposite in terms of their accomplishments and labour, lasted over twenty years. Aiba, by his thirty-seventh birthday, had forgotten clean about the seed of that idea.
But then, one day, he was leafing through one of Sho-chan's many half-loosened newspapers, and his thumb happened to open a page where a city correspondent had done an article about large houses in the outer prefectures whose prices and distance to Tokyo centre, in response to the economic downturn, had doomed them to demolished by the city, to free up space to build a new chain of mini-malls.
The squirrel in Aiba's head, which had long been hibernating in patient slumber between the idle brainspace Aiba allocated to physics and homonyms, suddenly woke up, and began to sniff around.
~
"I happened to notice," Nino starts, landing in a flumpy bundle of scarves and capris beside Aiba, "that a certain someone sitting on this couch has withdrawn a huge amount of money from his bank account in the past week."
"Did you finally use your own money for something?" Aiba says excitedly, and then realizes, "Oh! You mean me." He frowns. "Stop snooping on my bank account, Nino!"
Nino's grin is unrepentant and unshakeable. "You bought something big. Bigger than a car. Bigger than a sports car and a new set of golf clubs. A restaurant, maybe?"
"No, and not a cruise ship either."
"I was about to say a petting farm."
"Not a petting farm."
"It can't be something as tame as a house?" Nino's tone is disbelieving.
Aiba laughs. "Why not? Maybe I'm finally ready to settle down."
Nino's hand is immediately cupping Aiba's forehead. "You must be joking," he says, and Aiba takes the chance to drop a quick kiss onto Nino's slackened mouth. Nino reels back, caught off guard. His gaze turns wary and suspicious, like he can't quite tell what kind of trick Aiba's pulling, or if it's a trick at all.
"I am merely planning for the future," Aiba tells him magnanimously, and leaves it at that.
~
The house Aiba bought is in Chiba, naturally. It's two stories tall, white-washed concrete with interior wooden panelling, an almost-flat roof tiled with rust-red and dust-brown shingles, and the front door is framed by two misshapen trees, shrunk and curved like Aiba's grandpa's back. Its upstairs windows are large and rectangular, like two huge eyeglass frames ensconced on the face of the house. It's about thirty minutes to the coast on foot, if you walk straight through the backyard and take a shortcut away from the main road. There are seventeen grey stone slabs that lead from the sidewalk to the front door, and eleven more that branch off to the right side of the house, where there's a small, detached garage. All in all, a very respectable place to live.
The backyard is smaller than he would prefer, there are no windowsills to hang plants from, the ceilings of the bedrooms are slightly too low for Aiba's tastes, the plumbing has been so long unused that it all has to be fixed and there's not enough colour... it's not the perfect summer-encapsulating house of Aiba's dreams. But that's okay. Aiba's always been someone who got struck more by something's potential than something's capacity.
Because as Aiba had trailed after the real estate agent's soft-slipped footsteps like a child in a corn maze, he'd only been lending her half an ear to her rattling off statistics about the building's heat insulation and high quality flooring. Mostly, his attention had been usurped by the sleek, renovated kitchen (Jun-kun would conquer that like a magnanimous warlord), the spacious living room (an outlet at every corner, just how Nino would want it) and the two smaller rooms that flank either side of it (perfect for an office and a studio, respectively), and the smooth, twirling banister that ringed the winding staircase to the second floor (just think of all Aiba could do with that! It'd be just like the movies).
Upstairs: one large master bedroom, three single rooms edging the northeast corner of the house, tiny in comparison, and an empty space between the third and master bedroom that overlooked the back of the house and the green-blue horizon line beyond.
Aiba had spent a long time, standing by the posterior windows, staring outside, as if he could see the future there if he focused hard enough, written in evening clouds and sunset gradient.
The agent, disconcerted with his silence, had eventually lost patience and asked him if he'd had any more questions about the place.
Aiba had blinked and turned to her, eyes glistening with the captured light from the falling western sun.
"Yeah," he'd said. "How much is the asking price?"
~
"What's this I hear about a house?" Jun asks him, over pre-pre-pre-lunch coffee.
"I dunno," Aiba returns, tearing open another packet of sugar. "What did Blabbermouth Nino tell you?"
"He said you'd gone off on the deep end and had gotten a Chinese mail-order bride to cook you gyoza every night and take care of your pet army without complaint, and needed a house to keep her away from the media eye."
"That sounds about right," Aiba grins, taking a tentative sip of his drink and then splurging on another pack of sugar.
"That's the fourth one," Jun says warningly. "Don't think I haven't noticed."
"But I've only had three cups today! So that's less sugar than usual, if you count up the totals."
"Then I guess we should add that red bean bun you scarfed down this morning, on the ride over here."
Aiba winces. "Well..."
"The house," Jun prods, jabbing Aiba's side with an elbow. "You actually bought one?"
"Yep. It's big, too."
Only one of Jun's eyebrows rise up, which means that he's curious and surprised, but not in a terrible way. "Why though? Tell me you're not planning to fill it up with abandoned animals."
"I guess you'll just have to wait and find out!" Aiba chirps, and takes a long, slow sip of his coffee. "Aaah," he sighs. "Just right."
Jun watches him drink, the edges of his mouth curled downwards. "Sickening."
"Maybe if you added more sugar to your diet you'd become more sweet!"
Jun ignores that. "So why are you keeping so secretive about this? You're not going to--" he frowns abruptly, "Wait, this isn't for some new haunted house segment, is it? Are you going to rig the house?"
"No!"
"Because I was going to say that Sho made us promise that we wouldn't do any more of those--"
"I remember that," Aiba says. "It's a secret because it's more fun that way. Duh."
Jun purses his lips, maybe holding back a comment criticising Americanisms and Aiba's maturity level. "Fine. Whatever hare-brained scheme you're cooking up right now, at least give us some warning when it's almost complete, hm? And try not to hurt yourself."
"Aye aye, boss," Aiba salutes with his spoon. He gets a splash of coffee on his cheek and Jun rolls his eyes before heading back to the photoshoot.
~
"A house, Aiba-chan?" Ohno asks quietly, when it's their turn to sit out as the camera bulbs flash on the supposedly "smarter" members of the group.
Aiba stretches in his chair and cracks his neck before flopping around to face Ohno. "Yeah, Leader! Wait till you see it!"
"It's really pretty, huh."
"Reaaaally pretty," Aiba confirms. "And it's really near to the bay! You can walk there if you go through the woods in the back. There's like this one trail that's filled with poison ivy and I nearly stepped in them but the real estate agent stopped me. She said she could get them cut for me before I moved in."
"Near the sea?" Ohno asks, a smile beginning to form on his face.
"Yeah! And there's this tiny little restaurant there that I'd never noticed before -- though I guess I haven't gone back to Chiba in forever -- and it's got sand all over its floor and the chef mumbles so much you can't understand anything he says but oh my God, Captain, the ootori is so good. I actually died eating it."
"Am I talking to Aiba-chan's ghost right now, then?"
"I was dead but then the love of my best friends revived me! Just like Peter Pan. Or was that Tinkerbell?"
Ohno huffs out a jingling giggle. "I don't know. Ask Nino."
"Nino's stupid."
"Says the leading scientist in stupidity!" Nino calls from across the room. Aiba ignores him.
"He can't keep his mouth shut," he explains earnestly to Ohno, lowering his voice now.
"His mouth is good for other things," Ohno leans in to murmur, teasing.
"Captain!" Aiba feigns a gasp. "So scandalous! I'm going to tell Nino you said that."
Ohno just laughs again, and Aiba agrees: imagining the look on Nino's face is pretty much hilarious.
"Do you need help moving in, Aiba-chan?" Ohno asks, like it's no trouble to be there, and Aiba feels a swell in his chest at Ohno's kindness. Not everyone would bother to offer, considering that a) Aiba can afford to hire a moving crew, b) Ohno really doesn't have time to help Aiba move; in fact none of them do, and c) Ohno, while as kind-hearted as a baby sloth, is also as slow-moving as a baby sloth when it comes to things that don't involve dancing and fishing.
"I think I'm good," Aiba reassures him. "It'll be better too, if you guys just get to see the finished product."
"Ah, okay."
"Because it's going to be really great. At least, I hope so. I want you to love it."
Ohno stares at him, blinking once.
"I mean. It'd mean a lot to me if you guys liked it," Aiba says, a bit roughly.
"We will," says Ohno lightly, and despite himself, Aiba tenses: did he just give the whole shebang away?
But Ohno just reaches over and pats Aiba's hand, a silent, Don't worry, I've got you, and Aiba slumps back in relief.
"I can't wait," Ohno whispers, and it's no fucking wonder Aiba thinks Ohno Satoshi is the most genius of them all.
~
"Buying property is a really good investment, Aiba, congratulations," is what Sho says, over lunch in the NTV cafeteria. He spends the next ten minutes detailing what it means to the economy that people are buying permanent residences away from the main city, not just condos and apartments and high-rises, and how Aiba, if it turned out he didn't like the purchase, could easily resell the place at a higher price, and maybe use those earnings to invest in some stocks. It's Sho in full knowledge-imparting regalia: his plumes of resplendent academic feathers fanned out for all the other peacocks to admire. (Except the only other peacock in the vicinity is Aiba, and if Aiba had to personify himself as a bird, he'd want to be a toucan, because toucans are cool.) The other three have all left for other schedules, so there's no one around to stem the onslaught of Sho's educational benevolence.
Aiba waits it out until he's sure Sho has finished, swallows his mouthful of rice, and says smartly, "Okay. Neat."
Sho spears some more beef onto his bowl. "I had no idea you were even in the market for a house, Aiba. How long did you spend looking?"
"Like, two weeks?"
Sho doesn't look reassured. "That's a bit fast, don't you think?"
"Well, um, no time like the present?" Truthfully, Aiba had been pissed it'd taken so long for the paperwork to go through. He doesn't know how he managed the feat of becoming less patient as he got older, but there it is. It's like that Benjamin Button movie he saw once with Jun-kun, except with virtues.
"It's not that you," Sho starts, shoulders tensing minutely, "it's not a situation of you being unhappy in Tokyo, is it? You needing to get away?" His eyebrows are drawn in, anxious.
"Oh, Sho-chan!" Aiba says so quickly that grains of rice fly out of his mouth. How could Sho-chan even think that? "No no no! It's not like that at all! I'm not like -- trying to escape or anything. Wow, no."
Sho's expression shifts, and the tautness of his neck relaxes a bit. "Then what brought on this new venture of yours?"
Aiba shrugs. "I think it was always meant to happen; just that I'm finally getting around to it now."
"Building your dream home?"
"Something like that," Aiba says. "I'm going to try my best, anyway."
"And it's what you really want?"
"Yes for sure!" Aiba nods emphatically.
"Then I'm glad," Sho-chan says, and his smile is warm. His foot taps Aiba's once under the table, gentle as a reminder. "Just -- wherever you end up, make sure we can get to you easily, please?"
"You're making it sound like I'm packing up and moving halfway across the world, Sho-chan!" Aiba whines. His foot taps back. "I don't know why you're so nervous about it; it was your idea in the first place."
Of course, Sho doesn't get it at all, and Aiba isn't above taking smug glee from that.
~
When you're sixteen years old and sailing across the Pacific ocean to perform your debut concert in Hawaii, you're so full of an adrenaline-fused muddle of emotions -- fear, excitement, nervousness, more fear, regret, wonder, even more fear -- that a person can hardly be blamed for failing to see the big picture of what was really happening at the time.
Yes, Aiba and four other auspicious boys were about to debut as a new JE group; yes, they were on the first real days of what would, if all things went well, be a long and winding journey of the rest of their lives as idols; yes, they'd been given the opportunity of a lifetime to become a recognized name in the country's -- and perhaps the world's -- entertainment industry; yes to all of the above and some more besides.
But what was actually happening there on that cruise boat, was that five gangly teenagers were trying to keep respectfully upright and believably cheer-faced on a large, speeding cruise ship, while getting their photos taken. Metaphorically, they were aware that they were standing at the edge of a precipice, but were unaware of just how high they were off the ground, how far the jump was to the other side, how much of a risk it would be to stumble even the littlest bit, and how much work lay in the days, months, years ahead -- but those five boys, friendly but not best friends, each accompanied by a vastly different mindset and personality, who would never had come together like that if it weren't for their jobs, were finding it extremely hard to stay balanced on the swaying of the sea, and so: they'd hung onto each other. While the photographers snapped their cameras and the videographers shot their films, the five of them forced on smiles to cover their anxiety, and they'd all thought the same thing: thank God I'm not alone.
What was actually happening was that Arashi in name or not, the five of them began to depend on one another.
Together, the five of them were stronger and greater than any part of them alone, and though it would be a long while before the significance of that would lie with any profound understanding in any one of them, by the time they do notice, the bond between them will have already grown as unyielding as steel and as dazzling as gold.
It would carry them through, that love.
Someday far in the future, Aiba is counting on it.
~
It takes a total of nine weeks to get everything prepared to Aiba's specifications. Longer than he'd expected, because apparently his notes to the decorators and movers didn't really make a lot of sense when they weren't being read side by side, and also because his diagrams weren't to scale -- or to logic, really. By the time Aiba moves in, the water faucets are running smoothly, the walls are repainted fresh white, and the heating system is fixed to working order. Aiba relocates a good portion of stuff from his own apartment in downtown Tokyo to the house and makes camp in the master bedroom. There's a king-sized bed already there waiting for him, but he decides to hold off sleeping in it and sticks to the room's leather recliner. Just for now. He doesn't consider this place his home yet -- that'll take time. Luckily, his dogs and cat take to the new house instantly, if their happy piles of chewed cardboard and fur everywhere are any indication, and Aiba is delighted about that. His parrot Chunsan shrieks about mabo tofu in a spiritual chant, and Aiba takes that to mean he likes the change of scenery too.
What it all amounts to is Aiba taking a final tour of his new address one afternoon in July, making careful note of the purposely empty spaces (intended use to be determined later, upon democratic vote) and the spaces that are instead filled with Aiba's eclectic array of furniture and electronics and photos (photos framed on practically every wall, from the very old, to the very new, from public to private: memories, each one), and approving of what he sees.
He takes a moment, standing at the threshold of a new chapter of his life, to be very pleased with himself.
And the next morning, he is equally, if not more pleased, when he slaps down four identical keys with different coloured keychains onto the coffee table of Arashi's green room, and sings triumphantly, "Ta-dah!"
Four faces simultaneously peer down at his offered treasure.
"Keys," Nino states.
"New keys," Jun adds. "To your new place, I'm guessing?"
"They all look the same," Sho notices. "They're all the same? Aiba, you've made four copies of the same key?"
"Five!" Aiba corrects, and takes his out of his pocket, dangling from his finger with a bright green lanyard. "But actually six because there's one for emergencies."
Everyone looks at him.
"Uh," Aiba stammers. He hadn't actually thought this particular part of his plan through very well. He'd always assumed that it would just -- happen. "They're for you," he explains feebly.
"Obviously," Jun says. "But why are you giving them to us?"
"Because I thought that you guys -- could... move in? With me?"
"Ah," says Jun, leaning back in his sofa. He stares at the keys on the table, but doesn't reach for them.
Aiba is suddenly reeling: what did he do wrong? Why isn't anyone taking the keys? Even Ohno, who Aiba had thought had seen through his plans from the very start, isn't making a move.
He forces himself to break the thick silence. "What -- what's up? I thought you guys would be happy if we could live together. It's -- I decorated the house and everything -- well, most of it, not all of it, because I wanted your input too! There's a really fancy kitchen and I bought a 3D projector for the living room and I got Captain a new drawing easel and there's three empty bookcases in the study for -- for--" Aiba's throat clogs, Adam's apple bobbing uselessly like a baby chick without a mother. His words are stilted, softened with apprehension when he tries again: "It was a surprise. I thought you'd like it."
"What if," Nino's voice lashes out, like a whip, "I don't want to move? A little thought, Aiba. What if I'm happy where I am? The commute is easy and the convenience store is right under my building. The game shop is right around the corner. I don't get any sun in the mornings. What if I want to keep that?"
Aiba physically recoils, taking a halting step backwards: his calf bumps into the couch that Sho is sitting on, whose newspapers are now frozen in his lap like a still frame. "I didn't think that--"
"No, you didn't think at all," Nino interrupts, eyes blazing. "You just wanted something and got hyped up on your own idea and didn't really consider what a huge thing it is you're doing without our consent. This isn't like us sharing a hotel room, or us staying at each other's apartment for the night, or even a week.Living together? Why don't you just announce our relationship to the entire fucking world?"
"Nino, calm down," Jun says firmly. "Let Aiba talk, at least. Aiba, you've thought it through, right? I'm sure you don't mean for us to all just... grab our things and meet you by the seaside, something like that?"
"I," Aiba says, and stops.
"God," Nino laughs once, but he sounds winded. "Isn't it amazing? Beyond even your usual idiocy, Aiba."
"Nino, shut the hell up," Sho practically snaps. In quick, jerky movements, he crosses the room and locks the door. "Accusing Aiba of announcing us to the world and you're the one shouting his lungs out to the entire broadcasting building."
Nino's jaw tightens and his fingers clench spastically at his sides, but he breathes out in one loud huff and falls back onto the loveseat, like a marionette with its strings cut.
Sho returns to his seat hesitantly, as if afraid he might startle Aiba into fleeing like a wild animal. "Aiba-chan," he says, "Do you want to tell us the meaning behind this?"
Aiba's heart thuds in sputters like a car engine on its last dregs of gas.
"The meaning is," he manages, after taking in a gasp of air, "is that -- that I love you guys."
In dramas, a line like that has the uncanny ability to make everything fine and perfect again, like the very words were some sort of magical fix-it spell. There would be time-slowing hugs and possibly PG-rated kisses, and there would be forgiveness symbolized by piano music, and a fade to black, and a next scene would be the happy couple, five years later, with two children and not a single wrinkle on either of their beaming faces.
Aiba doesn't get that here.
What Aiba gets is Sho's weary sigh, saying, "Aiba-chan," contritely, like he's disappointed but is trying massively to hide it.
Aiba has never more wanted to undo something he made.
"We appreciate the gesture, Aiba, really," Jun is speaking up, and Aiba tries to listen beyond the dull roar of blood rushing in his ears, embarrassment and shame and grief pounding through his skull in equal measures, but he can't get much more from Jun other than the phrases, "needed to talk about this in advance," and, "a huge step into," and, "rumours spreading," and, "other issues," and, "romantic but impractical," and then Aiba stops listening at all.
When it becomes clear that the situation has become too dire to move away from, Sho looks desperately to Ohno. "Say something, Ohno-kun."
Aiba's gaze slides towards Ohno like an unwilling magnet.
"I just," Ohno mumbles, obviously uncomfortable, "I thought it would be like a holiday house, Aiba-chan. Not permanent. That's -- yeah."
The last remaining bud in Aiba's field of hope lights on fire and burns to a crisp.
He sits down heavily, as if a mountain has suddenly come crashing onto his shoulders; he bends under the invisible weight, a lone reed exposed to a lashing gale, and puts his head in his hands.
From behind, one of Sho's sturdy arms wrap around his back.
"Sorry," he says, forehead on Aiba's shoulder. "We know you meant well, Aiba-chan."
~
Okay, so despite how easily Aiba cries while watching sad movies, war movies, or movies starring athletic animals, he's not actually that weak-hearted. Well, literally, he is, because of his medical condition, but figuratively, he isn't, and that's what counts. The aging process as a whole all but guarantees the hardening of an individual's spirit, and the entertainment industry in particular has the versatile ability to gift a person with a high percentage of astounding things, both very good and very bad; by living through all of them, Aiba knows that he's only gained strength, a thick, tough hide to bar against all manner of tough weather. So the unanimous rejection of his house of dreams? It hurts a hell of a lot, sure, but Aiba is not so insecure that he thinks it's a sign that Arashi doesn't love him. They've suffered more together in twenty years than most people do in their entire lifetimes and it's going to take more than a few of Nino's sharp-toothed comments and Jun's pitiless reasoning to convince Aiba that they aren't still head over heels for him, and always would be.
But oh God, did it sting. All that work! Worthless, shoved off their collective shoulders like a fleck of lint. Aiba actually wondered if he'd have to take the rest of the day off, not sure he could muster up even a hint of smile for the cameras, but he's nothing if not professional -- and yeah, twenty-some years of experience helped too.
For all his air-headedness and occasional (very occasional!) bouts of doing before thinking, Aiba is not actually dumb, like, for real. Being an idol for more than two decades can teach a person a thing or two or fifty, so it's not that Aiba never considered what the media's take would be if all five members of Arashi decided to jump ship and move in together.
He just hadn't really cared.
What Aiba had been thinking when he'd purchased the house was this:
1) Arashi doesn't actually get to see each other that much anymore. It's maybe a pattern of twice a week, three times tops. Gone are the days when they were shipped off as a bundle for every other promotion like they were a litter of pups: buy one and get the set, not to be separated or they'll whine endlessly, etcetera. They're in their prime years now, which means fewer singles and slapdash talk shows, and more serious dramas and hosting gigs. That's the way of the business, Aiba knows that. But he misses the others when they're not with him, which, while a feeling that he's had ample chance to get habituate to, still has the tendency to nag at him if he lets it: like a miniscule scab at the centre of his back -- hard to reach, easy enough to ignore, but nevertheless, still there. Once it had been a vital concern to all five of them that they wouldn't spend too much time together, fearful that they would oversaturate from exposure, end up hating each other the way that countless other groups hated each other from being contained in close quarters for too long, but the worry had been short-lived. Whatever faulty way that Aiba had been wired to need those other four men in his life, they were all apparently the same. They could get sick of each other that morning and be back to cuddling obnoxiously on the couch by late afternoon. Whatever annoyance and resentment that is usually bred by seeing someone's face literally more than you see your own, it never lasts between then. They're a panoramic set of paintings: each capable of standing on its own beautifully, but when matched up side by side -- well. No contest. You don't get tired of art like that.
So Aiba had thought it would be great if he could see his members more often, away from work. Catch up on their respective days without ending the conversation with, "Whoops, I've got to go, talk to you later.". Get to see the others' smiling faces on something other than a television screen; be able to touch them if Aiba wants.
And Aiba does want that. Very much.
2) So shallow is as shallow does, but the fact of the matter is that Aiba likes sex and he will never say no to getting it, especially if it's readily available and being presented to him on a silver platter. Their current situation of hopping to and fro from each other's apartments is pretty much the celebrity equivalent of a nomadic-booty-call lifestyle, and while that's served them well and good so far, Aiba aches for the day when he can wake up to the morning sun and find himself unable to breathe in properly because he's so tightly squashed against four other bodies in the bed. They've actually very, very rarely gone to bed as five -- too much scheduling hassle, and messy besides. But Aiba is a greedy twelve-year-old and has never claimed otherwise, so he's all in favour of having more, whether that pertains to loved ones, or frequency of lewd acts with said loved ones.
The house would have been perfect for that, felling inconvenience and inaccessibility in one clean blow.
Also Aiba is nothing if not imaginative: just thinking of all the fun that four people could have, out of earshot of nosy neighbours, is so tempting that it makes his toes curl, his pulse race.
(And okay, fine, so maybe Aiba harbours this wicked fantasy of seeing Sho in a frilly white apron and greeting Aiba with a "Welcome home, Aiba-chan!" when Aiba steps through the front door in the evening, but that's -- that would be extra. Not that Aiba actually expects it to happen, and not that Aiba would ever think of bribing Sho to do it, but -- well, without the house, there's no hope at all, is there?)
3) Call him a sentimental old fool, but Aiba, nearing the big four-zero milestone of his biological existence, has perfected the art of taking pleasure from the little things. To that end, he's had quite enough of not seeing the messy spikes of Sho's bed head every morning, and not smelling the rich aroma of Jun's extra-extra-strong espresso pervading the kitchen as Aiba prepares snacks for all of them that day, and not being kissed hello by Ohno when Aiba slinks home after an exhausting day at work, and not being nagged by Nino to stop leaving his socks around everywhere, because someone is sure to slip and break something, be it body part or furniture. Wouldn't it just make life so much better if Aiba had that every day? Aiba thinks so. He can't believe the others didn't, and moreover, needed an explanation for buying a house that could provide all those things. How could anyone choose a combini and games over that?
So, yeah, when Aiba had spilled out that verbal oatmeal about "I love you guys," with an appalling lack of finesse, that's what he meant. All of that: being there for each other mornings and evenings and times in between -- not having to contact other people to meet up and talk, and to have a definite place to just go and know that the others would be waiting. A sanctuary, all their own. He just hadn't been able to put it into words. Too many feelings, and insufficient vocabulary to describe them.
But the problem with a person like Ninomiya Kazunari is that he wouldn't get away with being so acerbic if he wasn't so damn right all the time. While Aiba could admit to giving some thought to repercussions that would follow if one day the not inconsiderable population of Japan woke up to the headline ARASHI MEMBERS TO LIVE TOGETHER IN CHIBA HOUSE, RUMOURS OF WILD ORGIES, perhaps it's a bit true that Aiba, swept up so passionately in the magic of his fairy tale, didn't treat the matter with the gravity it deserved. It's certain enough that there would be no end to the controversy awaiting them if they were found out: five single, grown men bunking together for the indeterminate future. Their careers would be wrecked, the scandal would decimate their entire reputation in a matter of days. Japan as a country is liberal about the private lives of their citizens, but as celebrities, Arashi aren't afforded the same kind of freedom.
What Aiba actually thought, though, which prompted his careless levity about the matter, is that they wouldn't really be found out.
His original plan, in all its muddled glory, was that they could all keep their own apartments in Tokyo, but bring a few bits and pieces of those apartments into the Chiba house, and maybe purchase a few extra things to fill up the new place so it, slowly but surely, changes from a building that someone else left behind to one that defines Arashi just as much as it supports them. It wouldn't be the holiday house that Ohno had been picturing, but if they aren't overly obvious about it, Aiba is sure they could be discreet enough. The area is relatively secluded, Arashi is no longer the paparazzi bait they'd once been in their golden era, and the focus on their individual love lives shifted years ago, onto the newer generations of knob-kneed Johnny protégés. None of them are exactly the housewife type, so Aiba had thought it would suit them just fine: stay in Tokyo for the work, as long as required, and when they need to relax, go home to Chiba. The keyword is home. Aiba is totally, completely, utterly fine with the others living some of the time in Tokyo, as long as their hearts lay with Aiba's, in Chiba.
Marriage had never been in the cards for them, not really. They passed conventional marriage age without nary a glance backwards, and even though the threat of it hangs over their heads from time to time, Aiba knows it would take nothing short of a earth-shattering event to force any one of them to wed. Aside from the whole gay thing, Arashi had long-standing commitments first to their agency, second to their fans, and third, and most crucially, to each other. Short of starting up a polygamous convent and naming it something really catchy and punny, Aiba can think of no better way to cement Arashi's future as five than to share a residence. It could have been a real monument (literally) of their devotion to one other. Come hell or high water, drama-flopping or record-breaking, group or solo activities, that house would remain, and within its walls, Arashi could always have a place to belong.
Anyway.
All of that's a pipe dream now. None of the others had desire whatsoever to move, in any capacity. Chalk it up to another failed experiment, then; better luck next time. Aiba will nurse this failure with care, lick clean his wounds, then amble back to the drawing board for another go at getting his forever.
~
It's two days later. They're waiting for filming to finish setting up for a new commercial about Pepsi's most recent Coke-counterfeit product. Aiba is tossing wads of tissue into a cup on the far side of the table, and Jun is frowning at his cell phone so severely Aiba would be worried if he didn't know that Jun's actually looking at the mirror-plated back of his phone. He'd been unreasonably obsessed with wrinkles the past few weeks.
Aiba throws again, the tissue bounces off the rim of the cup and dunks in. Aiba congratulates himself. That makes it 36 out, 4 in. Not too shabby.
"So," Jun announces, out of the blue, like he's attempting to start a lecture in an auditorium full of students. "This house of yours."
A blade of trepidation spears Aiba's stomach like a javelin.
"Yeah?"
"You're planning to keep it?"
"Yeah," Aiba shrugs. "I spent a lot of money on it. And most of my stuff is there now anyway, so..." he trails off and lobs another tissue. It misses.
"You like it?" Jun clears his throat. "I mean, you enjoy living there?"
"It's a nice place," Aiba says. "A bit too large for one person, but Chunsan and Pichan and Mochan and Holmes keep me company."
This is a bit of an understatement. Last night, Aiba had all but physically chained his dogs to his person in order for them to pay attention to him. The move is still a fresh thing for them: when offered the choice between a new backyard to play in and their boring old master, those crazy mutts had of course gone with the option that possessed the right consistency for digging and burying twigs in.
The house, honestly, is beautiful, even though now it's a much more hollow beauty than Aiba had first pictured. There are too many cold corners and not enough warm nooks. Aiba takes advantage of the abundance of space to blast Arashi songs at max volume all hours of the night, but there's a lot of echo that ruins the timbre of the music. The day before he'd accidentally set off a minor fire in the kitchen and burned through his set of bamboo beer coasters, and since the low dining table is big enough to sit six people, Aiba hasn't bothered to toss them out yet -- they sit in a black-crusted lump, a miniature set charred dinosaur bones, beside this truly ugly vase that Aiba had bought from an antique store because he'd been sure Ohno would like it.
And for whatever reason he doesn't care to analyze, Aiba's still sleeping in the bedroom's large, plush recliner, and not in the actual bed.
"I'm getting more used to it every day," says Aiba with forced optimism.
Jun's lips quirk like he's not sure if he should be displeased by something. "You... actually, you never gave us the address for it."
Aiba stares at him. "Oh," he says dumbly. "Sorry?"
"I mean," Jun tacks on, sounding a bit irritated. "You spent all this time hyping up this great house of yours, and then you never bring us over to see it? Kind of pointless."
"But, you, what?" Aiba is flabbergasted. "You guys weren't interested! You said you didn't want to move!"
"That's because I don't," Jun replies hastily. "But -- you put a lot of work into the place, so. I'd like to see it, at least. That's not a problem, is it?"
"No, no, sure, of course!" Aiba's already fumbling for his cell phone to text the address to Jun and the others. "Come whenever you want. Just give me a call to make sure I'm home first."
In Jun's hand, his cell buzzes with a new message. Jun flicks it open and nods.
"Thanks." His eyelids dip, he looks chagrined. "We should have arranged some kind of housewarming party for you," he says.
"That's totally okay!" Aiba reassures him. "It's -- not necessary. Really. But if you want, you can make it up to me by buying me a new set of bamboo coasters. Like, those super fancy hand-woven ones."
"Fine," Jun agrees. "I'll get you a case of beer to test them out too."
~
"How come you invited Jun-kun to your new place but not me?" Sho's voice, thinner from the phone due to the noise of traffic on his end, asks bluntly.
"Because he -- where are you?" Aiba asks, but he's drowned out by an ear-splitting screeching sound from somewhere in Sho's vicinity.
"Sorry, pardon, what? I can't hear you. I'm at the construction site of that new skyscraper. My cell phone is currently wedged between my hard hat and the side of my face." His voice abruptly increases in volume. "No, tell him I'll be ready in a second! Just get the cameras in place, please!"
"Sho-chan, go film your segment," Aiba admonishes. "You can call me later."
"Jun sent me a text bragging about how he's going over to your house tonight! It had a smiley face emoticon! And a mug of beer graphic!"
An emoticon means a lot, especially for Jun, who proclaimed to have "grown out" of adding them in his text messages at age thirty-one. Aiba had no idea Jun was that excited about visiting.
Also, is Aiba in a group with a bunch of drunks? Or do Matsujun and Sho-chan have mood swing tendencies that Aiba has previously been unaware of?
"I don't get this at all," he moans. "You guys were all upset about the house! Why are you suddenly so into it?"
"Ah, about that--" Sho starts, and the grimace in his voice is unmistakable, although it might have been caused by the brutal explosion of jackhammering that bursts into the air. "Yes, I'm coming!" he calls, before saying hurriedly. "Aiba, I've got to let you go. Can I come over tonight too? Say, ten-ish?"
"Uh, no problem?" Aiba stutters.
"Okay, fantastic! Work hard today. Bye." The line clicks quiet.
Aiba stares at the mobile in his hand, more than a little dumbfounded. He wonders if he should text Jun to bring more drinks.
~
There's no better way to pass the time than kissing Ohno Satoshi; Aiba's always thought so. Ohno, true to his "my pace" nature, kisses as if he has all the time in the world to indulge. Each curl of his tongue, each soft bite of his teeth are all done as languidly as the lapping of a summer pond, caressing the pebbles of the shore. There are times when Ohno can pull up from his well-contained reserves of energy and can kiss like a storm wrecking the beach, but usually, it's like this: his long fingers gentle around Aiba's neck, stroking along his jawbone in micrometres, while they share breath and allow the heat between them to slowly, slowly grow, like nursing a baby flame. Aiba could spend years lost in Ohno's mouth.
"Thank you for the food, Aiba-chan," Ohno murmurs, at last pulling away with a content sigh.
"You're welcome, you're welcome," Aiba sings, and tries to chase Ohno's retreating lips. He's well on his way to being drunk; he's always been an Ohno-holic.
Ohno laughs and lightly shoves him away, one hand still gripping the take-out box from Aiba's family restaurant. "You've got to go now."
"Do I?"
"Yeah." The corners of Ohno's eyes crinkle like foil candy wrappers. Aiba wants to lick them. "Didn't you say you're picking up Jun-kun from his apartment?"
"Oh yeah."
"Going for a night out?" Ohno asks.
"Nope," Aiba says. "Matsujun is coming over to see my new place. Sho-chan's coming over later too!"
"Hm."
"I added two things of dipping sauce," Aiba tells Ohno, tapping the styrofoam container. "And some extra spring rolls." He glances at his watch. "Maybe you should heat it up again before eating. Wow, how did it suddenly become eight? Okay, you're right, I have to go or Jun-kun's going to get mad at me for taking so long."
Aiba turns to leave, but is startled to feel Ohno's hand grab his elbow. "Wait," Ohno says, shoves the take-out box into Aiba's arms, and disappears into his apartment. He emerges again less than a minute later, shrugging on his jacket. He then pulls on his shoes, and locks his door.
He reclaims his dinner. "Okay, ready."
Aiba grins and leads the way downstairs.
~
"I must say, Aiba, I'm very impressed with the location," Sho says, as Aiba lets him into the house. "I know you said that it was quite private, but it really is. The park along the back is nice. Lots of trees."
"Yeah, and there are lots of weird flowers and mushrooms in there," Aiba says, taking the bag Sho proffers. He peeks inside. "Meat!"
Sho laughs. "Yeah, I stopped by a specialty store before coming here. It's the best Kobe beef from the season."
Aiba's eyes are shining with anticipation already. "Thanks, Sho-chan!"
"Happy belated housewarming, I guess," Sho says modestly. "I think tradition dictates that I should have gotten you a toaster or microwave or something, but I thought you'd appreciate this more."
"You know me so well." Aiba leans forward to place a smacking kiss to Sho's cheek.
"Sho!" Jun's voice calls from the kitchen. "Come see Aiba's kitchen! I want you to guess what these utensils are for."
Sho groans, shooting Aiba a why-me look. "I just got here," he shouts back. "Can't the humiliation wait for a few minutes?"
"Come here."
In the kitchen, Jun has laid out the assortment of cooking tools that Aiba had purchased over a month ago but still bear their original price tags. Aiba had gone overboard with those, trying to anticipate what kind of tools Jun might prefer in the kitchen. He tried to remember how the small, tidy kitchen in Jun's own apartment had been stocked, but hadn't been able to conjure up much more than a spatula, garlic press, hand-juicer, and mortar/pestle set. It's because he's allowed into Jun's kitchen only when Jun is absolutely desperate for another pair of hands while he's cooking, so everything obviously winds down as Jun's fault.
Jun holds out a long, thin-wired rectangular frame that holds a perfect steel circle in its centre, the size of a large pepperoni slice, also hollow. "What do you think this is?"
"I don't want to play this game," Sho mopes. "I'm here to see Aiba's place. Maybe have a few drinks."
"It's a corn kernel cutter for corn cobs," Jun explains, giving no indication he'd heard Sho's protests. He picks up a prong-adorned cylinder. "Guess this one."
Aiba leaves them to it and goes over to see what Ohno's drawing. Captain's stretched out on his stomach in the middle of Aiba's living room rug, pencil moving in broad strokes across a large scrap of cardboard Aiba had never bothered to throw away. There's actually a Leaning Tower of Cardboard Boxes in the study room, next to the 95% empty mahogany bookcases.
Aiba's dogs are fast asleep on the backs of Ohno's legs. Aiba's not sure Ohno has noticed.
"Whale shark," Ohno says, just as Aiba's about to ask, "Is that a giant tuna?"
"Oh. Cool."
Ohno's cell phone is tucked in his back pocket of his pants and its screen starts to flash as the Super Mario ringtone suddenly plays. Ohno makes no motion to reach for it so Aiba leans down and plucks the phone out of Ohno's jeans. The ID screen reveals the caller's identity, although the music already gave it away.
"Helloooo?"
There's the briefest pause, then, "I should have known you'd kidnap Oh-chan!" Nino snaps at him.
"Oh yeah," Aiba says smugly. "It's roleplay. We're having all sorts of fun playing torture games. Chains and whips and handcuffs, you name it."
"We were going to work on our new song tonight!" Nino whines, sounding just as perfectly sixteen as he did when he actually was that age.
"Oh, were you?" Aiba nudges Ohno's butt with his foot. "Captain, you forgot you were composing with Nino today."
"Whoops," Ohno says, unconcerned, adding oval spots along the back of his shark.
"He said whoops."
"Whoops? That lazy ass! I got my keyboard and drums rigged up to the internet and everything! I'll show him whoops!! Where are you right now?"
Never mind that rigging up his recording equipment must have taken all of thirty seconds, since both Nino's keyboard and drumset are black and white electronic mats.
"You're just bitter that Oh-chan would rather hang out with me!" Aiba says.
"It's because you're such a slut."
"Unfair! You're the one who likes to act all squirmy in bed. We could record you moaning and sell it to trashy porn studios. The trashiest."
"I'm going to cut you when I find you," Nino promises sweetly.
"Then come find me," Aiba cajoles, smile too big for his face. "You've got my address."
Nino hangs up without another word and Aiba feels excitement flicker from the base of his spine, infusing heat up his body to flush his chest, his neck.
Looks like it's going to be an even better night than he'd thought.
~
Since Aiba is chronologically an adult and is thus capable of keeping his dick inside his pants for prolonged lengths of time, he actually does give a grand tour of his new abode when the whole gang is assembled, free of prongs, meat, pencils, and catty remarks. He leads them from room to room feeling like a museum curator -- here is the living room, notice the exceptional number of wall plugs; here is the staircase, isn't its symmetry beautiful; here is the second bathroom, where the Great Toe Stubbing Incident of Yesterday Morn occurred to national outcry -- feeling strangely self-conscious throughout the whole process. Although no one mentions it, Aiba's sure they've taken notice of the excess of space: a small desk to fill an entire office, a lone toothbrush in the toothbrush rack, half of the closet space in the master bedroom still devoid of clothes.
Ah, the master bedroom. Aiba had saved that exhibit for last, as it's the most homey in the house. He's practically made it a mini-house between those four walls. In it is scattered vestiges of the lunch boxes he's devoured in the late night, haphazard piles of magazines and dog-eared manga, unmatched socks galore, a footrest that Aiba uses as a desk for his laptop, work scripts lying fanned around it like skirt. There are the most number of photos on these walls, polaroids aplenty, almost as if Aiba had tried to recreate their Ashita no Kioku music video, except ten times messier.
"I'm surprised that you bother making the bed," Jun says, fingering the dark green blankets. (Aiba had considered a rainbow-stripe pattern, but then wrote that off because while he would appreciate the symbolism, his sense of style is not that of a elementary school student.)
"Yeah, well," Aiba says, and decides not to mention the fact that he's only ever made that bed once: when he was first laying it out. He takes a seat on it, as if to cement the illusion that he's totally comfortable there. Sho sits beside him and flops onto his back with a loud, obnoxious sigh.
"I'm just going to take a nap here, if that's all right with you guys," he says, curling his arms behind his head.
Jun swats Sho's flank and Sho yelps. "Don't you dare fall asleep. You've got to work the alcohol out of your system so you can drive me home."
It's on the tip of Aiba's tongue to offer that they all stay here -- there's even an extra bed in one of the other bedrooms -- but Nino cuts in too quickly.
"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried," he says, directing the comment to Jun, smirking.
Jun smirks back. "It's an honourable notion at heart, at least."
"I had no idea walking around a house got you hot and bothered."
"Neither did I," says Jun, with a glint in his eye. "I think it was that gorgeous kitchen that did it."
"The kitchen?" Aiba asks, not getting it. "You're attracted to my kitchen?" But then Jun walks over and straddles Aiba's lap.
He says, primly, "Well, I'm attracted to something in this house," and starts to strip off his shirt.
"So fucking obvious," Nino tsks, and drags Ohno onto the bed.
~
This is how Aiba's bed gets christened in the most amazing way possible: with an Arashi member smorgasbord. It's been a long time since they'd gotten to do this, and it's awkward at first -- too many elbows and mismatched knees, everyone too eager to be able to coordinate -- but then through the disorder Nino twines his legs around Aiba's waist and pulls Aiba in, and beside them Jun grabs Sho's wrists to keep him still while Jun lowers his hips, and then Ohno slots himself neatly into the minimal space between Sho and Nino, and that's it, it's a fit, and it's like they've been doing this all their life. By the time Aiba is allowed to sink into Nino's impossibly tight heat, Nino's eyes trained high to the ceiling like he's seeing God, Aiba's forgotten what it was like to be a singular entity. But good riddance to that wanting lifestyle, farewell and so long, what Aiba has here is everything he needs; here is heat and love and here is whole.
Ohno's hand stroking himself is a direct link to Aiba's own pace, each snap of Aiba's hips coaxes moans from both Ohno and Nino, their entwined fingers clenching on Nino's leaking erection. The heavy pants coming in Sho's voice are pulled directly from Aiba's throat, and Jun's breathless laughter could just as well be coming from Nino's open, curved mouth. Aiba bends down to lick at it, to taste Nino's joy, and Ohno sighs into it, humming his pleasure, then murmuring, "Jun-kun," and Aiba hears Jun gasp. Sho groans, full-bodied and deep, and the vibrations echo throughout Aiba's own chest, which is full to bursting. This is a storm only Arashi can create and Aiba is caught in it, high on it, is gladly consumed by the assault. He can't last much longer, and his thrusts speed up to a frantic rhythm; Jun says, "Yes, good, like that," and it makes Nino whimper in agreement. Aiba's arm darts out over Ohno's head and Sho grabs it, squeezing spastically, and Sho chokes, "I, I'm, Jun--" and Ohno says, "Yeah, do it," and as Sho topples over the edge, Aiba can't help but follow, cresting inside Nino's body and squeezing his eyes closed so hard that nameless colours spark across his vision.
Afterwards, recovering: his face buried in Nino's bony shoulder, Aiba feels someone's hand stroke tenderly at his nape, and someone breathes out in a scratchy-hoarse whisper, "Love you." It could be coming from anyone, could be meant for anyone, and that's because it's them, it's everyone there in that bed.
Aiba thinks that even though no one decided to move in with him, meaning he basically wasted several million yen on this failed housing endeavour, it was all fucking worth it, just for that.
~
So Sho works the alcohol out of his system, but everyone ends up staying the night anyway.
~
In the morning, Aiba wakes up in his new bed for the first time since he's moved in. Someone has drawn open the blinds and the sunlight feels wonderful on Aiba's face.
"It's kind of obscene, how pretty you are sometimes," says Nino's plaintive voice, and Aiba cracks open his eyes to grin at his friend. Nino's buried beneath the covers on Aiba's left side; only the top half of his face visible, but the quirk of his eyebrows tell Aiba that he's smiling.
"What time is it? Where is everyone?" Aiba asks, stretching his limbs as far as he can. He feels sore and achy and fantastic.
"8:30, downstairs, washroom, left for work," Nino answers. "Guess who's who."
Aiba laughs and pulls himself out of bed. "Let's find out. Are you gonna shower?"
"Eventually."
"Breakfast?"
"Nah."
"Okay," Aiba says, leaning down to peck Nino on his ear. Nino gives out a muffled grunt and slides entirely under the blankets. Aiba tucks him in, pushing the thick cloth into the crooked outline of Nino's body, and leaves him to wallow at his leisure, probably set to do whatever magic he uses to replenish his energy in lieu of eating normal meals.
The washroom is foggy with steam; Ohno's singing in the shower but readily gives up the soap when Aiba asks for it. It's honeysuckle and almond, which smells lovely, but Aiba had only bought it because the box it came in had a cartoon duck wearing a pirate hat. Aiba quickly scrubs his face and hands it back, sneaking a quick peek at naked, wet Ohno from behind the shower curtain. Ohno smiles good morning and pokes his head out temporarily for a honey-scented kiss.
He's going to smell like Aiba's soap all day, Aiba realizes dizzily.
Downstairs, Aiba follows his nose. There's a plate full of crumbs and half a pot of coffee in the kitchen, evidently courtesy of Sho -- on Aiba's phone there had been a text message from him, apologizing for leaving early, but he's keen to finish up his news piece on the skyscraper while the construction site is still empty and quiet. Jun is dressed in yesterday's shirt plus a pair of Aiba's jeans and is making scrambled eggs at the stove; he spares Aiba a warm glance when he walks into the room.
"Sleep well?" he asks.
"Maaaaan," Aiba says, "did I ever. You?"
"Ohno's knee was jabbing into my crotch for half the night and Sho nearly suffocated me."
"You don't fool me, you wardrobe snatcher. You probably slept like a baby."
"Not mutually exclusive. And I'm not snatching, I'll give them back to you." Jun piles eggs onto a plate and hands it to Aiba. "Go eat."
Aiba takes it and laps up a glob of egg with just his tongue. Jun wrinkles his nose and procures a pair of chopsticks out of nowhere, which he thrusts into Aiba's face.
It's been less than twelve hours and already he seems to know Aiba's kitchen inside out. Aiba asks, "Can you cut up some fruit for Nino? He's skipping breakfast."
"You have one apple in your entire fridge."
"Well then he can have that," Aiba says graciously.
When Ohno trudges into the kitchen a few minutes later, bleary-eyed and wet hair sticking up like porcupine quills, Aiba's eaten Nino's share of the eggs and is making a dent on his second serving. A night of vigorous sex always got his appetite up.
Ohno accepts his plate of food and eats in grateful bites. "Jun-kun's eggs are the best, as expected."
"Thanks," says Jun, flushing a bit. "If you want more, just let me know. I don't have anywhere to be until eleven today."
"Okay."
Aiba thinks it's incredible, this dynamic between their youngest and oldest. How many years have they known each other and still Matsujun glows whenever Ohno compliments him directly. It must be a superpower, what Ohno has: all of Arashi are sickeningly adept at praising each other, but there's something unique about Ohno's sincerity, the simplicity and daydream-esque quality of his words, that makes his sentiments spark off joy like a bursting flare -- Jun is just the one who gets most visibly affected. It's terribly humbling.
So Aiba watches Ohno dig into his breakfast and Jun sip at Sho's leftover coffee and he beams at them both. In his kitchen, in his house, the world feels like an long lost friend, discovered anew today.
"What is it?" Jun says irritably, flicking his gaze over to Aiba. He hates smiling before his blood level is half composed of caffeine.
That just makes Aiba grin harder. "This is nice, isn't it? It's really nice."
"Mm," Ohno agrees.
"We should do it more often, I think. Like, as often as possible."
"Aiba," Jun warns.
"Every day!" Aiba expounds, heedless.
Jun's lips curl downwards.
"Maybe," he says, and Aiba feels himself deflate by small degrees. Oh yeah. They'd already gone over this.
"I'm not -- I wasn't going to push that," Aiba amends quickly. "I was just -- being happy. I wasn't thinking about it like that."
Ohno's eyelids are low and trained carefully on his plate.
"I mean, aren't you guys happy too? Last night was fun, wasn't it?"
Jun tilts his head, a smile edging the corners of his mouth. "It was."
"So, so..." Aiba flounders. How can he approach this without seeming too desperate? It's not as if Aiba's been nursing a false hope all this time. He's only confused. The thing is that they've already chosen, the others, that they didn't want to move in, but then they came over anyway and screwed Aiba six ways till Sunday and slept in Aiba's (their) bed and used Aiba's (their) soap and traded morning kisses and made coffee and eggs and it's just as perfect, even more so, than Aiba had dreamed, so why--
"So you want to be here, but don't want to live here. Is it because of something about me?" Aiba asks, quietly. The thought hasn't occurred to him before now, and the shock of it crushes his chest painfully.
Ohno's face snaps up. His eyes are dark, his brows deeply furrowed. "No. Not at all."
"Then what--"
"It's because it's something huge, Aiba!" Jun says, looking pinched. "Not even counting the risk of getting caught by the press. Moving in together is kind of like a huge and insane decision and it needs thought to be put into it. Who knows, maybe it'd be something for us in the future, but you go and buy a fucking house without consulting any of us, and just hand over the keys like they're souvenirs you got from the zoo, and expect us to move in, easy as that."
"But -- it is easy, why wouldn't it be?" Aiba asks.
"Because we're all fully grown men used to our own way," Jun says flatly, and his gaze is evasive. "I'm not saying that won't get along -- of course we will, but living together all the time is different from hanging out together for long lengths of time."
"I know that," says Aiba. He knows Jun isn't trying to be patronizing, but Aiba had known from the get-go that it wouldn't be all sunshine and rainbows. Just -- most of it.
Jun continues, "We're all very independent; it'll take a lot of hard work to be able to compromise in order to suit each other's needs. Not to mention that we all have wildly differing schedules so it's no guarantee that the house will allow us to see each other that much more anyway, so it might not add anything to our lives but unnecessary complication. You buying the house so spur of the moment was -- well, the decision should have involved our input, is what I think. I just -- it's not that it's a bad idea, and it's not that we don't want it, but--" Jun stops, sighing.
"I was scared," Ohno says abruptly.
Aiba turns to him, startled. "Scared? Of what?"
Ohno's slouching so far forward that his shrug seems like it might tip him off his chair. "I reacted in that way because... I liked what we had, just as it was. And moving around would change everything. And you came out with it so suddenly. I was really surprised."
"But wouldn't the changes be for the better?"
Ohno shrugs again, the movement as fluid as water. "When I first moved out of my parents' house, it was pretty hard. It wasn't me being too reliant on my mother or anything. It was just hard, because she used to always be there, and then she wasn't. Adjusting to that took time. But now I'm used to living alone so I thought it would to take an even bigger adjustment to live with you guys. It's not a matter of not wanting it. It was intimidating."
"Oh."
"Actually," Jun says, voice purposefully light. "Me too. What Ohno-kun said."
"Oh," repeats Aiba. "Ah."
"Sorry."
"No! It's--" Aiba stumbles. "It's cool. I get it."
Silence. Aiba fiddles with his chopsticks, pushing around the last few scraps of eggs on his plate. He's not that hungry anymore.
It makes sense, what they're saying. Maybe Aiba had rushed into things. Eyes too big for his stomach, heart too big for his house. He's always had that tendency, to feel an idea shimmering on the horizon and go charging at it with the entire cavalry of his being. He loses perspective sometimes about how his mentality differs so much from the others, because they've been together for so long he takes mutual understanding as a given. But sympathy doesn't always equal desire, and it's not fair to shove his needs at the others for his own greedy aspirations.
It's okay, Aiba thinks. It's not as if he's been abandoned here. Far from it. If last night was any indication, visits to Aiba's house could be a new pastime they could shamelessly indulge in, albeit infrequently.
As if sharing his thoughts, Jun speaks: "I really -- last night was good, though." He looks oddly conflicted about it. "Really good. I hadn't thought--"
"Aiba, your dogs fell asleep on my clothes again and got slobber all over my underwear," Nino says, trudging into the room in Aiba's bathrobe. The Boston-Terrier-Dachshund-cyclone of Pichan and Mochan yip in circles at his feet, and from his right Aiba hears a quiet grunt of envy from Jun. For some reason, Aiba's dogs really, really love the smell of Nino (Aiba has a ridiculous yet brilliant theory about Nino's hamburger hands) and seem to have taken it as their canine duty to ruin, at the minimum, Nino's socks, every time Nino visits. Jun gets jealous sometimes, but there's a difference between animals liking you and animals thinking you are edible. ...Which reminds him.
Aiba hefts himself out of his chair to prepare food for his pets. "I'll lend you some of my stuff," he tells Nino. "There's an apple in the fridge if you want it."
"Oh. Thanks." He takes a seat beside Ohno and scoots his chair closer until their shoulders touch.
"Morning," Ohno murmurs, and presses a feather-light kiss to Nino's cheek. Nino steals a bite of egg off Ohno's plate.
"Good," he says.
"More?" Jun asks, wary.
"Sure."
"A true miracle," mutters Jun sarcastically, rising to get make more eggs at the stove. "We should come here more often, if it means you'll actually eat like a regular human being."
"You should come here more often anyway," Aiba says, nudging Jun's hip with his own, and Jun hides his smile.