Just read this fanfic. it's really a nice one. Someone should read this! The you is me and the he is you. Imagine while reading.
Characters: Arashi
Pairings: OhMiya
Genre: Angst, Romance
Rating: PG
Summary: You couldn't believe your ears, but one glance at his eyes, you know you're not just hearing things.
Disclaimer: ALL WORK OF FICTION.
Warning: Second person's point of view from Ohno's view of things, if that made sense. T_T
You couldn’t believe your ears, but one glance at his eyes, you know you’re not just hearing things. But there’s still that question that you wanted to ask: Why?
It had only been two months, give or take a week. He had been the one who confessed, and it took you completely by surprise. In spite of everything, he’s your best friend, and it hadn’t actually occurred to you that he would like you that way.
Though even if that was the case, you couldn’t help but think that he’s cute when he turns all shy and blushes like that. Maybe that was why you said ‘yes’ without even blinking. And it was a really good choice, since you probably wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you had missed the burst of happiness in his eyes and that adorable little grin that followed your reply.
At that time, you still didn’t know how much that ‘yes’ meant to him. But you never actually bothered to confirm, because he’s always there and he’s happy. That was all that mattered.
Although you were aware of one thing; nothing had changed in your relationship even afterwards.
He clung to you the same as always, one of his hands automatically lifting itself and moving unconsciously on its way to some part of your body; mostly your hip, your back, your hair, and sometimes when you’re lucky (which you won’t ever admit to anyone that you’re anticipating), your hand. He expresses his affection to you the same way, and you made sure that you’re always ready to accept it without a second thought.
You were getting accustomed to everything, but not really because you know that nothing is different. You’re still best friends, but also more than just.
You didn’t think anything had gone wrong at any point in time, which once again begs that question in your mind: Why?
But you find that you couldn’t quite voice this question out. You try to clench your hands, to know if they’re still there, but it only made you realize at once that they’re trembling.
You feel something shatter in your chest, because he’s not looking at you, and you want him to, so that you can see the confirmation that he’s just joking, or you’re just one way or another dreaming. Because it just couldn’t be true.
He was always there and he never stopped telling you he loved you, never once restrained himself in showing it even in front of the public eye, and he always made you feel it.
And then in a flash of understanding, like a bolt of lightning suddenly hitting your spine, you become conscious of what didn’t happen.
He always touched you, a constant presence and words of affection that you abruptly realize were a little bit desperate, and, if you actually paid attention, insistent. You just accepted them with a reassuring smile each time.
Now it dawned onto you that you on no occasion touched him first, and now that you allow yourself to look back, it struck you with an amazing force and a rushing sense of guilt and ache that you’ve not ever told him that you love him, too.
And if you paid a little interest and some of your time looking at him properly, you’d have seen how exhausted he looked for reasons more than the heavy workload. That if you just stayed and stare for a moment after each time he said ‘I love you’, you’d have seen that he was waiting for you to say it back.
And if you didn’t continue reading the fishing magazine you had in hand before he came, you’d have noticed the resigned look on his face before he curled on your side with his DS magically emerging in his hands.
If only you did, but you didn’t, because you’re an asshole who (if you’re truly honest with yourself) didn’t deserve his whole-hearted attention and affection.
So now he’s breaking up with you.
You stand quietly in the middle of the green room with just the two of you, and you realize with a start that he’s walking away, and there’s that unexpected crushing feeling in your heart, like the whole world just fell down on you just by seeing his back, and the way his shoulders sagged like it was all he could do to keep going.
It’s getting harder and harder for you to breath with every steps he take, and the pain in every inch of your body was becoming overwhelming that you’re almost convinced that you’re having your worst nightmare and you’re being tortured in hell right now.
You raise a hand in a motion that would’ve told him stop if he was looking.
You open your mouth, your heart shouting don’t go, but all that came out was a feeble croak, dry and needy, like you haven’t tasted water for a very long time.
He might’ve heard it, because he turned around just a moment before he managed to hold the doorknob.
He looks at your face slowly, meeting your eyes with a painstaking emotion that suddenly turned into a pure declaration of shock. His eyes widen and his mouth falls, and something in his eyes turn soft and sorry, if a tiny bit hopeful, for a reason you can’t comprehend completely.
Every edges of his expression were apologising, and he’s walking back to you before you can do anything to react.
It was only when you blinked that you realize your own tears flowing, and not only your hands are trembling now, but your whole body and every corner of your bones, so violently that you’re certain you’ll break down any minute now.
But you didn’t, because he was suddenly holding you, his arms around your waist and his face buried on your neck. He was holding you together, carrying your weight in his already fragile state.
You vaguely heard him whisper your name, like it’s a sacred word of love, so softly, that you’ll even believe that you only imagined it.
You blink again, and you’re hugging him back, tightly, like the two of you are the only ones holding each other from breaking point. You exhale, which sounded more like a broken shudder as you found yourself chanting on his hair, softly, desperately, don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me, while your tears continue to fall down, wetting a spot on his shoulder where your face is resting.
It took you a moment before you register his voice, so full of regret, “Oh-chan, I’m so sorry. Please stop crying. Don’t cry. Please.”
But you’re too relieved, his figure and scent around you too familiar that you’re confident you’d die without it. He runs his hand on your back, a habitual gesture, comfort, a movement that speaks so many words in a manner that only you can understand.
It was probably after 5 minutes (which felt inexplicably like a lifetime) when you managed to calm down, just a bit, but you still couldn’t let go of him, terrified that he might disappear if you do, and you can’t deal with that, because you know, and you haven’t told him, but you know it’s true and it’s overflowing to the point that its already so painful, and you want him to stay, that’s why—
“I love you.”
A beat and a half, and there’s another rush of relief when you feel him smile in the crook of your neck. He mouths the words back, like he’s etching it on your skin over and over, engraving you with the forming shape of his emotions in every parts of your body he touched.
So you swear, you swear to yourself that you’ll try again; start not just to accept his touch but to give it back, touch him back, and let him feel how much you love him, too.
And you’ll say it as often as he does, or twice more, every single moment that you have with him.
And it doesn’t matter if it’s for all eternity, because that’s exactly what you need, precisely what you’re wishing for.
**End**
