Ohmiya fic - Hushed

[801rabu]

Title: Hushed
Pairing: Ohno/Nino
Rating: R for language and slight non-con.
Genre: Angst, drama.
Chapter: 1/3
Word Count: 1500~
Disclaimer: Just fiction! Unbetaed, sorry for any gross mistake you might find ¬.¬  also, this is my very my first Ohmiya fic, so… yoroshiku onegai shimasu~
Summary: Nino awakens to some unwanted groping in the middle of the night. Things are never going to be the same.


I couldn’t tell how long it has been since I got into bed, but only now I’m actually aware of my surroundings, my light doze interrupted by a feeble weight creeping down the waistline of my sweatpants. I’m lying face down, so yeah, my bare rear must be what it’s aiming for. By the time I’m fully awake it’s undeniable that the intrusion was no product of my dazed state, for a hand is now slowly caressing my left butt cheek. My eyes snap open and I realize I’m facing the window. Only darkness sips thought the neat curtains, and without the faintest sign of morning sun rays and no sound around, I figure out it’s long before dawn.

I do hear enough to get the picture though. There it is, right beside me, the distinct sound of flesh being beaten. It pierces the thick silence with a hurried and sloppy cadence, and my overstretched hearing catches it too, the almost inaudible and rather erratic breathing. There’s no mistake... I’d know that voice anywhere, even if it were to tremble the way it does right now.

As it dawns on me, I freeze. It’s Ohno. Wanking with one hand and groping inside my pants while I’m apparently sleeping with the other. Just thinking of it makes me become totally numb, and although my heart starts beating frantically, racing towards an unhealthy rate, it’s only wrenching fear what I’m feeling.

I can’t understand. In all the years I’ve known Ohno, he’s never approached me this way. Our cuddling phase was long gone, and a blind man could see that most of it occurred solely for fanservice purposes. But this is way different, there’s no joke, no game in this. It’s simply him taking something from me in the worst of ways. It is so surreal I would easily believe it to be just a bad dream. But I know better, my body knows better. And this guy is definitely shattering the image I had of him.

Those almost fake touches for the sake of cameras were slowly replaced by a deep connection, skinship no longer needed to express ourselves. I’ve always cherished that perfect synchrony we’ve built along the years, a shared look enough for us nowadays to know what the other is feeling. Till today, I had thought ours to be a deep friendship, a kind of connection none of both shares with any other member. So why would he act this way? How could he betray my confidence and do this?

I’m starting to feel revolted by that hand, that insistent groping that won’t stop. What if he’s asleep? Perhaps he’s having that kind of dream and his body is acting on its own accord?...

- Nnng... nnnn-ah. Ni...

There’s no need for you to finish that last word. Motherfucker. Anger, no, wrath consumes me after hearing him whisper my name. You very well know what, and with whom, you’re doing. Nah, to whom. All I manage to think is don’t spoil it, don’t use my name as you’re using me down there. But deep down, it’s the frustration what makes me want to throw up, because I’m not able to do anything about this. A mutilating shame chokes me, I don’t dare push his hand away, I can’t even protest; and I realize now, I even stopped breathing, out of fear that he’ll discover I’m indeed fully awake.

Why Ohno, why?

Incredible as it might seem, he’s being louder now. He’s practically panting, the bastard. Did he really expect me to keep on sleeping in the middle of this fuss? At least I’m thankful for the darkness, because I’m afraid the repugnantly urgent change of speed brought a telling shade of red to my ears. However, I feel my body starting to sweat too, and I panic, dreading the moment he finally finds out I’m aware of what’s going on. And really, the situation is awful enough, I’d rather die than face him about the reasons behind his actions.

My fears subdue instantly when his hand turns rather bold on me and I hear him reaching completion. It’s over, I think, no more. But is my pride what comes to pieces seconds later. I let him. Laid down like a fucking doll, I allowed him to do as he pleased. I feel like utter shit, and the worst is the conviction that slowly invades me. I’ll have to bear with this alone, for as long as it takes; I swear to never let anyone know about what happened here. I think about Arashi, about my future, when some rustling startles me out of my personal hell.

The hand palming me starts withdrawing, and it is sickening, the care he’s putting into the motion now, trying not to be found out. He strokes me one last time, gently rubbing my back, yet it feels like poisoned claws marring me. I shut my eyes tight and clench my jaw forcefully to prevent myself from doing any sound, and wait, wait till I’m somewhat capable of taking a deep breath with a minimum of serenity. I hear him shifting next to me, he’s facing the wall that leads to the door now.

So you turn your back at the toy and sleep soundly afterwards. Is that it?

My tense body finally gives in, and hot tears run fast, soaking the pillow. I manage to stay silent though. I only want to run as far as my weak limbs permit me, where no one could ever find me. Escape somewhere where Ohno no longer exists. But that would mean acceptation, admitting this happened and I succumbed to it, so I can’t run away, I must not let this affect me nor change me. I’ll just hold on till the shitbag falls into slumber and get the heck out of here. I need a hidden place so I can fall apart and maybe, just maybe, try joining the shattered pieces and regain my sanity back.

He’s deeply asleep in seconds, but to my dismay, I realize that I don’t have the strength to move anymore. What if I wake him and both of us get forced to affront this? No... he thought I was asleep and that’s what I’m gonna make him believe. So I stay awake for hours, a lapse of time that turns into centuries in my broken mind.

It’s been years since we shared a bed. How come he does this kind of thing the very first day he is given a new chance? I feel I don’t know this guy anymore... when did leader became so fucking disgusting? Perhaps I never really knew him, maybe he’s been deceiving me since the start. And I swallowed it all, didn’t I? He might have been performing his best play along act yesterday, and of course, I suspected nothing.

I stayed a bit in Ohno’s hotel room after last night’s performance, chatting about our impressions on the show. If management prefers us to spend the nights at this hotel even when the row of concerts are held in Tokyo, we might as well make the most of it and enjoy some time together, and yesterday reminded me so much of those boyish sleepovers from our first years as Arashi.

It had been somehow nostalgic, because I couldn’t recall a moment in the past few years when both of us would feel so cozy around each other. It got rather late eventually, and I made the move naturally, slipped into bed while I kept talking, and he followed at ease soon after.  No strange thoughts, no awkward glances. Just like brothers going to bed, we continued chatting, and I remember surrendering to sleep, barely conscious by the time the light was shut down.

Dim sunlight casts over the room. It makes it painfully patent, the way my eyes sting after half a night forcing them wide open like a maniac. I must look as though I’ve seen a ghost. I feel impossibly tired and sore, but I finally gather the courage to flee this suffocating room. I sneak out of bed with outmost care, stealthily tip-toeing the carpeted floor till I reach the door. My hand on the doorknob, a last urge restrains me. I really want to turn my head towards the bed, take a look at his frame. But I refuse to do so. I’d only end up shooting a deadly glare toward his sleeping form, a void threat that would serve no purpose at all.

Once again I settle for acting as if nothing ever happened, and for that strategy to be successful, I need to treat him just as before. Don’t know how to handle this yet, but he’s not going to change a thing, he’s not going to ruin my career, and above all, I’m not gonna act like a scaredy cat.

I feel so humiliated, so torn and exhausted, my guts revolted in a way that right now I wouldn’t deem it remotely feasible - but I need to be strong in my resolve, and I realize the only way to get over this is sweeping it under the rug, digging deep within me to try and bury how betrayed he made me feel tonight. So with the little dignity I have left, I simply close the door behind me.

But what if I hadn’t done so?

Would I...?

Would I have understood the broken way in which leader was watching me leave?

***