Prentious ShoNeen ahead!
Mar. 13th, 2011 11:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ciirceeOh, my god. Seriously, what? Comments off because OMGNO.
And Erin gave me such a good prompt.
I LOVE YOU MORE THAN THIS IMPLIES.
Voix mixte
Nino notices only slowly. Things between him and Sho are like music. There's lively parts and sweeter sections, bursts of sound and spaces of silence. There are words and there are breaths. Sometimes there are outbreaks of rapping.
(Nino loves those best when they happen in the shower, Sho's voice echoing around the bathroom as Nino lounges in the tub and laughs at him.)
But eventually Nino notices that Sho is only hitting the notes and mouthing the words. Sho's half of their duet is empty, is just auto-tuned. He doesn't say anything, just watches Sho and how Sho doesn't notice that he suddenly has an audience to his unsung song.
When he can't watch anymore he starts looking at the others, waiting. Nobody else has noticed, he thinks, until one day he looks away from Sho to find Jun watching him. He smiles sadly and.
"You see it too, huh?" he asks quietly when it's just him and Jun outside smoking a quick cigarette together. "It's not everybody."
"No," Jun admits quietly. "It's just you and—" he stubs his cigarette out on the pavement. "I know you can't give up on him," Jun tells him, soft eyes in his sharp face. "I know you wouldn't even if you could but if you have to…if it comes down to this or you, I pick you, okay?"
Nino smiles down at the ground and grinds his stick out against the building, letting it drop into the provided ashtray. "Don't tell me you love me, Jun." He can't handle that now. Not knowing how much Jun means it and how much Sho…is just saying it.
Jun puts him in a headlock. "I'm just thinking about our careers!" he vows.
(Sweetly, so sweetly. Nino is glad he can hide in the laughter Jun gives him. In the laughter of Aiba and Ohno when they pile in, tugging on him. Sho is gone, his turn up on the set, and Nino needs that space just to catch his breath. The bridge.)
Curled with him on the couch one night, late night, so late it's practically morning but they just got home, Nino interrupts it all. "Sho what the hell are you doing?"
Sho blinks at him and his hand on Nino's shirt front stills. "I was unbuttoning your shirt," he says. Honest but laughing.
Not honestly laughing, though, and Nino can hear it like an off-key note. "Do you even give a shit anymore?" he asks tiredly. "Or is it just easier this way?"
What does it say, he wonders, how does it sound, when Sho just says the words. "I give a shit, Nino."
"It doesn't feel like it," Nino says dryly. He gives a short bark of laugher. "It doesn't even sound like it. I asked if you gave a shit or if you're just with me because it's easier than breaking up and you just—said it."
"Nino," says Sho. He ruffles his hands through his hair, a disorderly Sho who sounds like a newscaster. "Are you trying to pick a fight?"
Honestly? Yes, yes he is. "Of course I am!" he says. He hops off the couch. Spreads his arms and then folds them in tight against his chest. "If I walked out the door you'd turn up at work again tomorrow like always, wouldn't you?"
Sho sighs. "That's dramatic and you know I wouldn't. No, you know it," he says before Nino can even object. "I love you."
He closes his eyes. He can hear a break in Sho's voice even if his words and tone are steady and unflinching and seemingly unfeeling. "Why are you even like this?" Nino is the one who's been hurt by love before. Nino is the one whose love life plays out like a mangled cassette tape, twisted up and wrinkled over and stretched to the breaking point. Sho's plays on like a backing track, a studio soundbooth masterpiece.
"I don't—" Sho says.
Nino turns. "Don't know what I'm talking about?" he asks. He lets his arms drop. "Sho?"
"I don't know," Sho says. "I just—"
And there it is, something real and honest and it's Sho again, live. "I'll leave," Nino says. He means it. He loves Sho and if Sho can't do this with him, he'll let the song end where it is. He's cried on stage before and the sound of it echoes forever even if it was never supposed to be recorded.
He's rubbing his hands over his face so he misses it when Sho stands up. He hears Sho move, though, and a moment later he's wrapped up in warmth that is more than just arms. Sho doesn't say 'stay' or 'don't go' or anything else. Sho just picks up the song, a little bit off rhythm, slow and hesitant like he's just finding his voice again, and he sings.
(It's rap. It's the rap from 'Itsuka no Summer'. It is hilarious and so completely inappropriate and Sho is singing it into his hair as he holds him.)
Nino laughs into Sho's chest, and realizes now how tight and wound up his voice must have got because he's feeling it loosen right now. "I love you," he says. "Don't do this again."
"Tell me again," Sho says, dropping out mid word to say it before picking up. And. And…
Nino knows that Sho doesn't mean the 'I love you' so much as he means everything else, whatever the words were that brought Sho back to their own little concert. "I love you," he says. Because that's all he was ever saying anyhow, somehow all the songs he ever writes are just those words, over and over again until they mean something. Until they mean, "Sho."
And Erin gave me such a good prompt.
I LOVE YOU MORE THAN THIS IMPLIES.
Voix mixte
Nino notices only slowly. Things between him and Sho are like music. There's lively parts and sweeter sections, bursts of sound and spaces of silence. There are words and there are breaths. Sometimes there are outbreaks of rapping.
(Nino loves those best when they happen in the shower, Sho's voice echoing around the bathroom as Nino lounges in the tub and laughs at him.)
But eventually Nino notices that Sho is only hitting the notes and mouthing the words. Sho's half of their duet is empty, is just auto-tuned. He doesn't say anything, just watches Sho and how Sho doesn't notice that he suddenly has an audience to his unsung song.
When he can't watch anymore he starts looking at the others, waiting. Nobody else has noticed, he thinks, until one day he looks away from Sho to find Jun watching him. He smiles sadly and.
"You see it too, huh?" he asks quietly when it's just him and Jun outside smoking a quick cigarette together. "It's not everybody."
"No," Jun admits quietly. "It's just you and—" he stubs his cigarette out on the pavement. "I know you can't give up on him," Jun tells him, soft eyes in his sharp face. "I know you wouldn't even if you could but if you have to…if it comes down to this or you, I pick you, okay?"
Nino smiles down at the ground and grinds his stick out against the building, letting it drop into the provided ashtray. "Don't tell me you love me, Jun." He can't handle that now. Not knowing how much Jun means it and how much Sho…is just saying it.
Jun puts him in a headlock. "I'm just thinking about our careers!" he vows.
(Sweetly, so sweetly. Nino is glad he can hide in the laughter Jun gives him. In the laughter of Aiba and Ohno when they pile in, tugging on him. Sho is gone, his turn up on the set, and Nino needs that space just to catch his breath. The bridge.)
Curled with him on the couch one night, late night, so late it's practically morning but they just got home, Nino interrupts it all. "Sho what the hell are you doing?"
Sho blinks at him and his hand on Nino's shirt front stills. "I was unbuttoning your shirt," he says. Honest but laughing.
Not honestly laughing, though, and Nino can hear it like an off-key note. "Do you even give a shit anymore?" he asks tiredly. "Or is it just easier this way?"
What does it say, he wonders, how does it sound, when Sho just says the words. "I give a shit, Nino."
"It doesn't feel like it," Nino says dryly. He gives a short bark of laugher. "It doesn't even sound like it. I asked if you gave a shit or if you're just with me because it's easier than breaking up and you just—said it."
"Nino," says Sho. He ruffles his hands through his hair, a disorderly Sho who sounds like a newscaster. "Are you trying to pick a fight?"
Honestly? Yes, yes he is. "Of course I am!" he says. He hops off the couch. Spreads his arms and then folds them in tight against his chest. "If I walked out the door you'd turn up at work again tomorrow like always, wouldn't you?"
Sho sighs. "That's dramatic and you know I wouldn't. No, you know it," he says before Nino can even object. "I love you."
He closes his eyes. He can hear a break in Sho's voice even if his words and tone are steady and unflinching and seemingly unfeeling. "Why are you even like this?" Nino is the one who's been hurt by love before. Nino is the one whose love life plays out like a mangled cassette tape, twisted up and wrinkled over and stretched to the breaking point. Sho's plays on like a backing track, a studio soundbooth masterpiece.
"I don't—" Sho says.
Nino turns. "Don't know what I'm talking about?" he asks. He lets his arms drop. "Sho?"
"I don't know," Sho says. "I just—"
And there it is, something real and honest and it's Sho again, live. "I'll leave," Nino says. He means it. He loves Sho and if Sho can't do this with him, he'll let the song end where it is. He's cried on stage before and the sound of it echoes forever even if it was never supposed to be recorded.
He's rubbing his hands over his face so he misses it when Sho stands up. He hears Sho move, though, and a moment later he's wrapped up in warmth that is more than just arms. Sho doesn't say 'stay' or 'don't go' or anything else. Sho just picks up the song, a little bit off rhythm, slow and hesitant like he's just finding his voice again, and he sings.
(It's rap. It's the rap from 'Itsuka no Summer'. It is hilarious and so completely inappropriate and Sho is singing it into his hair as he holds him.)
Nino laughs into Sho's chest, and realizes now how tight and wound up his voice must have got because he's feeling it loosen right now. "I love you," he says. "Don't do this again."
"Tell me again," Sho says, dropping out mid word to say it before picking up. And. And…
Nino knows that Sho doesn't mean the 'I love you' so much as he means everything else, whatever the words were that brought Sho back to their own little concert. "I love you," he says. Because that's all he was ever saying anyhow, somehow all the songs he ever writes are just those words, over and over again until they mean something. Until they mean, "Sho."