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The first time Ohno sees him, it’s on the train after work. It’s mid-august, and Ohno can feel the sweat trickling down his back in the combined heat of summer and the bodies pressed against his own. It’s the usual rush hour train, with everyone only just packed in, and the car smells like stale sweat. Ohno doesn’t know why he decided to take the outer circle train - it means he’ll spend longer travelling than he usually might (not something so desirable in these sticky, stuffy conditions, generally) - but he hadn’t felt like he was quite ready to go home yet, that he needed just a little more time before going back to his quiet, empty apartment.
At each station he’s able to breathe a little more freely, just for a little while before another surge of people push on, replacing those who’ve just got off. In the crush, Ohno finds himself pressed up against a slight boy, about his height. The boy has dark hair, longer than Ohno’s, and there’s a bead of sweat gliding down the side of his face. He looks really normal, Ohno thinks, giving the boy an apologetic smile as he’s pushed a little closer, pressing the boy up against the wall. Ohno can’t quite figure out how old he is; he looks like he could be seventeen, maybe younger, but he isn’t wearing a school uniform, so Ohno can’t really tell. He knows that he himself looks younger than he actually is - age is surprisingly hard to judge, Ohno thinks.
They’re pushed up against each other like that until they reach Ueno station, where a few seats are freed up, and they’re able to steal a couple between the steady flow of people getting off the train, and the sudden crush of those piling on. They sit next to each other in silence, and Ohno kind of wants to start a conversation, but he’s never been a conversational type of person, and what do you even say to someone who you’ve just been pressed up against for fifteen minutes or so? (Ohno didn’t think “Sorry if I squashed you,” would be the best conversation starter in the world, although it was marginally better than “You were a very comfortable person to be pushed up against,”).
By the time Ohno thinks he might’ve worked up enough courage to say something, the train’s going to be arriving at his stop in a couple of minutes - and even if it weren’t, Ohno’s just noticed the elderly lady standing over there, and he’s not the type of person who could bear to let her just stand. He gets up before they reach Hamamatsucho station and gestures for her to sit down with a smile, which she returns, before he pushes his way across the crowded train towards the door. ‘If I ever see him again,’ Ohno thinks, ‘I’ll talk to him then.’
The next day Ohno finds himself taking that longer, outer circle train again; same car, same time. He likes to pretend that it’s just because he’s not ready to go home yet, and that the queue for that car was the shortest, but deep down he knows that isn’t the case. That’s why he’d taken his time at the platform’s vending machine, just accidentally missing the train before as he tried to decide between Calpis and Pepsi NEX.
Ohno doesn’t see him at first, when he gets on, but at the next stop when some people get off, and there’s more room to see, he spots the boy sitting down not too far from him. At the next station Ohno dashes in to steal the seat opposite him. He vaguely wonders what the boy’s name is, how old he is, where he comes from; Ohno doesn’t know why he wants to know these things, doesn’t know why he got this train again today. The boy is just a regular boy, who Ohno saw once on a train - nothing special.
So why’s Ohno so damn interested in him?
The train ride to Hamamatsucho station seems to go faster than it did the day before, and Ohno still hasn’t spoken to the boy. Somehow, he knows he’ll be doing the same thing again tomorrow.
Ohno does the same thing for a week; he still doesn’t know why. He even makes excuses to himself, finding reasons to go into Shinjuku on Saturday (“I think I left my phone at work yesterday. I didn’t? Oh, my mistake.”) and Shibuya on Sunday (“I should really get my sister a present; her birthday’s only a month away!”)
The boy’s on the train both days.
After another week, Ohno finds himself getting increasingly curious. What station does the boy get off at? He decides to find out. He’s nervous on Monday, when he stays in his seat. The boy’s watching him, and Ohno’s mind’s screaming out ‘Don’t be a creepy stalker, just get off the train!’ the whole time they’re at Hamamatsucho station; his body won’t move.
They sit there on the train, Ohno on one side, the boy in the seat opposite him. Hours pass as they ride the Yamanote line - they’ve passed through Hamamatsucho station three times now, just continuing around. At one point the boy gets out an onigiri, and Ohno knows that the boy probably does this every day - why, he’s not sure. The number of people has died down considerably since the rush hour crush, until there’s barely anyone left. A few drunken people pile on at Shibuya, laughing through the whole three stops until they get off at Shinjuku, stumbling over their own feet. It’s the last train, Ohno realises, and he and the boy are both still there.
It’s only the two of them left by the time they reach Yurakucho station, and Ohno still hasn’t said anything; they just sit there in silence. It should probably be awkward, Ohno thinks as the train stops at Shinbashi, but it isn’t.
This time, when they reach Hamamatsucho, Ohno knows that he needs to get off. He hasn’t fulfilled his aim of finding out where the boy goes - he hasn’t even spoken to him - but that doesn’t really matter, because for some reason he feels closer to the boy anyway, in a really odd sort of way.
The next day he stays on until the last circuit again. He hadn’t been planning to, but it happens anyway. This time the boy takes out two onigiri and leans over to give one to Ohno; that probably just made Ohno’s day.
Ohno thinks he’s figured out why the boy stays on. He’s been contemplating it, and as he eats that store bought onigiri he thinks he’s figured it out; it’s calming.
Even with the sticky heat and the smell of sweat and only a single onigiri for dinner, sitting on the train and riding the Yamanote line until he really needs to get off is extremely calming. So many people pass by, getting on and off, and they’re from all walks of life - they’re all so different, interesting. Ohno kind of wants to do this for a whole day, just once. He wants to ride from the very first train to the very last and see what kind of person gets on when.
Another week passes and they do the same thing every day. Now that Ohno’s figured out the appeal, he finds it even harder to get off at Hamamatsucho station, even on the last circuit. The single onigiri thing is making him lose weight though, he thinks, so that day he takes three bento boxes to work. It means that he has to get up earlier in the morning to make the extra two, but he thinks it’s probably worth it if it means he and the boy are both properly fed.
When he hands it over, his hands are shaking slightly with nerves (‘Maybe he’s not the type that eats a lot,’ Ohno thinks, ‘Maybe he likes only having one onigiri.’)
The boy smiles, and all Ohno can do is smile back.
The thing about riding until the last train and getting up early to make extra food is that after a few weeks it’s starting to make Ohno kind of tired. It’s not enough to really hinder him at work, but one day as he rides the train home he can’t stop his eyes from slipping shut as he falls into sleep.
He sleeps for hours, until there’s a hand firmly shaking his shoulder and a gentle voice speaking into his ear, pulling him out of his dreams. “The next stop’s Hamamatsucho,” it’s saying, as Ohno blearily opens his eyes, “it’s the last train.” The boy’s sitting next to him, smiling as Ohno wakes up, and Ohno smiles in return.
“Thank you.”
When he gets home he gets out his untouched bento box, having slept through dinner. The one he packed for the boy is empty except for a hastily written note and Ohno’s store bought onigiri. Ohno reads it with a smile,
‘the food was delicious, don’t forget to eat yours. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Store bought onigiri has never tasted so good.
A few days later the situation is reversed. The boy’s slept through dinner, and Ohno’s slipped the spare bento box into the boy’s bag and retrieved his onigiri - he knows he’ll get the box back tomorrow. The boy’s still sleeping when they reach Shinbashi, so Ohno goes over to wake him up, gently shaking his shoulder and talking into his ear. “I don’t know what stop you get off at,” he says, “but Hamamatsucho is next, and it’s the last train,”
The boy slips back into the real world with a yawn, muffled by his hand, followed by a smile. The train pulls into Hamamatsucho. “Today I get off here.”
Ohno doesn’t think he can remember the last time he was this happy.
They both get off the train at Hamamatsucho station, and Ohno invites the boy back to his apartment - more a formality than anything else, because Ohno can’t see where else either of them might have been planning for the boy to go when he got off there. They walk to the apartment in a comfortable silence, their shoulders bumping every now and then when they walk that little bit too close.
It’s a Friday night and Ohno doesn’t have work tomorrow. It doesn’t seem like the boy does either, so once Ohno’s slipped off his suit and changed into more comfortable clothes they stay up talking until the sun’s risen and the neighbourhood begins to wake. Ohno learns that they boy’s called Ninomiya Kazunari, and that he’s more of a man than a boy; he’d been right about people looking younger than they were - Nino’s twenty three.
They sleep until early afternoon, Nino on Ohno’s spare futon, which hasn’t been used in months - not since Ohno’s mother last came to visit. When they wake up Ohno makes two bento boxes as Nino talks about his job; Nino’s a songwriter, apparently - Ohno thinks that sounds far more exciting than his job (and maybe it kind of makes Ohno want to go back to following his own dream of being an artist).
Nino leaves to go home soon after, a smile on his face as he walks outside, “I’ll see you on the Yamanote line.”
“On the Yamanote line.” Ohno agrees, returning the smile as he wonders why it feels like he’s known Nino for years.
After that Nino comes back to Ohno’s about once a month. Ohno still hasn’t found out what stop Nino gets off at, and he’s kind of lost the inclination to ask. One day, he thinks, he’ll stay on even after the last Hamamatsucho stop and find out - it’s more exciting than just asking.
When summer’s long gone, and the chill of winter has chased away the last of the heat, they’re still riding the Yamanote line. Ohno wears a few extra layers than he might usually, because he knows that it’ll be colder walking home in the middle of the night; Nino seems to have the same idea.
One morning at work Ohno has the radio playing. One song has only soft guitar as its backing track, and the words speak of summer days on a train, silent conversations and shared meals on a never ending journey. They speak of the seasons changing but a comfortable routine always continuing.
They speak of happiness.
Ohno goes out and buys the single in his lunch break. When he gets back to the office he opens it up and looks at the lyric booklet. He smiles when he sees what’s written there.
‘Music: NINO
Lyrics: NINO’
Ohno knows the song was for him.
It doesn’t take long for a year to pass since these train journeys started and for the stifling heat of summer to return. The heat on the packed train is almost unbearable, but Ohno wouldn’t stop what he and Nino are doing for the world.
Then one day Nino doesn’t get the train. Ohno’s looking out for him at every stop on the Yamanote line, on every circuit; Ohno's waiting for Nino to walk through the cars down to their one - maybe theirs had been too full for Nino to fit in earlier, it's happened before. But Nino doesn’t get on. Nino doesn’t get on for another week; Ohno can barely contain his happiness when he crams himself into their car the next Tuesday to see Nino sitting there, looking a little more tired than he did before. His shirt reads ‘I ♥ NY’ and Ohno smiles.
‘So that’s where he’s been’.
Three weeks from then Ohno’s listening to the radio at work again. A new American song is playing, and Ohno likes it; this one has a simplistic piano track as the background, which Ohno’s fingers are itching to play even though he’s never played a musical instrument before, other than the triangle (and that has a rather limited range of notes, quite honestly). He doesn’t understand most of the words, except the last line.
I’ll be home soon.
Ohno can’t help but wonder if his inkling is right.
The next morning he watches the news as he eats his breakfast. They’re talking about that American song; Ohno turns the volume up. It’s become a hit in countries across the globe - the composer is Japanese. Ohno wastes no time in running out to buy the single on his way to work; he pulls off the plastic and looks in the booklet as he sits on the train.
‘Music: NINO
Lyrics: NINO/Jason Smith’
Ohno smiles; he was right.
A few weeks later when Ohno gets on the train, Nino's got a guitar with him. When Nino comes over to Ohno's that night he plays it and he sings; he sings the songs that Ohno recognises from the radio - the ones Nino wrote. Ohno thinks these versions are even better.
“Sing with me,” Nino says after singing a few new songs, ones that haven't been released.
Ohno wants to shake his head in protest, say that it's impossible, that he doesn't know the first thing about music, but then Nino starts to play the soft guitar chords of that first song that’s about them, and Ohno's started singing without even realising it.
They sing the rest of the song together, and Nino smiles when they're done. “Maybe,” Nino says, “we could release a song together.”
Ohno smiles, his hand reaching out to touch Nino's, “do you want to be a singer?”
Nino ponders Ohno's question for a moment, absently running his fingers along the strings of his guitar, “I want to sing,” he says, “but I don't want to be famous.”
“So sing.” Ohno says, and Nino does sing. He sings something new, which Ohno hasn't heard before; it sounds kind of like a love song.
After that Ohno takes up art again. He'd never really given it up, but his hobby has been reduced to a few quick sketches and a doodle here and there. Now he's gone out and bought clay and paint and canvases, and he's ready to create. The first thing Ohno starts to paint is Nino. He paints Nino with a bento box and onigiri, sitting in their car, on their train, on the Yamanote line. And as Ohno paints he sings that song that Nino had shared with him before. Ohno doesn't want to give up his dream; maybe one day it can still come true.
Ohno's taken to listening to the radio at work a lot now. He likes it, and for some reason it makes him feel closer to Nino; music always makes him feel closer to Nino. A few months after the day they sang together, Ohno's listening to the radio at work again, when familiar guitar chords filter their way into the room. Ohno smiles; his smile widens when it's Nino's voice that starts to sing.
Ohno sings along.
It's all over the magazines and the music shows. Everyone wants to know about Nino. They only have the nickname and the music, and Ohno knows that was what Nino had meant that day. Nino doesn't want to be famous; he just wants his music to be famous, for his voice to be famous - nothing more.
Nino doesn't appear on any music shows, he doesn't have any interviews or photo shoots in the magazines. He's not on any shows to promote his début single. But his voice is everywhere. Ohno hears it in shops, he hears it on the radio, he hears it as he walks along the street in Shibuya; whenever he hears it Ohno feels amazingly proud.
Ohno's never been happier to buy something than when he walks into HMV and picks up Nino's single; the cover is a picture of Hamamatsucho station.
He smiles at Nino and holds up the bag for him to see when he gets on the train that afternoon and Nino laughs. Ohno listens to the song on repeat from the moment he gets home to the moment he leaves for work the next morning.
Everyone still wants to know who Nino is - what he looks like - but Ohno knows that they aren't going to find out, certainly not any time soon. After all, if Nino's face becomes known, they won't be able to ride the Yamanote line together any more.
Ohno meets up with an old friend from high school about a week after Nino's début. His name's Sakurai Sho, and since school he's graduated from Keio with a degree in economics and become a newscaster, with a column in a music magazine. He asks Ohno if his dream is still to do art, and Ohno's answer is yes; he doesn't tell Sho that there's a part of him that wants to sing as well - to sing with Nino.
Ohno asks Sho if he has a new dream, now that he's fulfilled his old one. Sho thinks about it for a moment before smiling “I want to interview Nino,” he says, “I even just want to meet Nino because he's all about the music, and that's so rare.” Ohno smiles - he'd almost forgotten Sho's utter passion for music (there had been a time long ago where Sho had aspired to become a disk jockey, despite his parents’ wishes, and Ohno wondered if he still wanted that deep down).
That night on the train, when it's just them left, Ohno tells Nino about Sho. “I have a friend,” Ohno says, “who wants to interview you for his music column.”
Nino nods his understanding, urging Ohno to continue.
“He says he admires you, because you're all about the music,” Ohno smiles as Nino appears to be contemplating the interview, before finishing his sentence, “I trust him.”
A month later, with the next release of that music magazine, everyone's excited about the first ever interview with Nino. The questions and answers are all about music, all about Nino's career. “Thank you,” Ohno says that evening on the train, a copy of the magazine in his hand.
Nino smiles across at Ohno, “I should be thanking you.”
That interview is the first and last that Nino ever does - an exclusive. Ohno tells Nino one day, as they sit in his apartment, about something that Sho's said to him.
“When they find out he was the one that interviewed you, people always ask him who you are,” Ohno explains, fingers idly plucking the strings of Nino's guitar.
“What does he say?” Nino asks, absently humming a tune to accompany Ohno's music,
“He says 'He's a good guy'.” They both smile and Nino takes the guitar to pick out a tune.
“It was right to trust him.”
They sit there until sunrise again, playing guitar, singing and talking. Nino says something at one point that makes Ohno think.
“I've done what I wanted to do;” Nino says, “now you have to do what you wanted to do.”
Ohno glances at the art supplies dotted around the room, at the pictures he's painted and the sculptures he's made; he wants the exhibition, but that wasn't all he wanted - it isn't all he wants. Ohno still wants to sing with Nino.
More than that, Ohno wants there to be more between him and Nino.
The next time Nino releases a single, Ohno's exhibition still hasn't happened - truthfully, Ohno doesn't know if it ever will, but he can only keep trying - one of the other things he wants has though. The single's cover is a photo of a bento box and store bought onigiri. Nino's voice isn't the only one singing.
It's a one off; Ohno doesn't want singing to be his main focus in life, but he wanted to do it just that once. Nino had written a duet for the two of them, and they had sung. The magazines are going crazy again, over who ‘NINO & OHNO’ are, as are the music shows, but they'll never find out. Ohno and Nino celebrate their single with a cake and beer at Ohno's apartment. It's a small celebration, just the two of them and Nino's guitar, but it's fun.
The next day Ohno gets a phone call from Sho. Sho sounds kind of stunned, and slightly confused, and Ohno can only imagine his facial expression right now, “I-Is that- ...don't tell me you-?”
Ohno laughs quietly and nods, even though he knows Sho can't see him, “I wanted to try it,” he says, “just once.”
Ohno's kind of surprised when he realises that he's been riding the Yamanote line until the last train for two years now. Nino's twenty five, and he's nearing twenty eight - it seems like it's been both a week since he and Nino met, and a lifetime. Ohno can't remember the time when Nino wasn't in his life anymore - not clearly anyway. Nino makes him feel alive.
They celebrate his twenty eighth birthday with another cake and a few more beers, and Nino brings out his guitar not long after they finish eating. “Nino?” Ohno says as Nino strums a few chords on his guitar.
“Yeah?” Nino sounds curious as to what Ohno's going to say, but he doesn't stop playing - playing the guitar is so natural to Nino that Ohno's not even sure the other realises when he's doing it.
“There were three things I wanted to do that time,” Ohno says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice; Nino's questioning look urges him to continue, “I wanted to do art, I wanted to sing,” Ohno stops, looks at Nino for any sign that he shouldn't continue - that he shouldn't say what he's about to. There's no such sign, so Ohno swallows once, his throat almost unbearably dry, “I wanted to do this.”
Ohno reaches forward to take the guitar from Nino and put it safely out of the way on his bed; Nino's grip is loose, and he allows Ohno to take it easily; there’s nothing left in between them now. Ohno takes a deep breath, looking one last time for that sign that he should stop before it’s too late; it still isn't there. He leans forward, towards Nino, and puts his hand on Nino's cheek, thumb stroking Nino's cheekbone gently, his fingers warm against Nino's skin, resting along the length of Nino’s jaw. Ohno leans in further, and he knows he can't back out now. His lips meet Nino's ever so gently, the hand on Nino's cheek tilting the other's head up just a little to meet the kiss; soft lips meeting slightly chapped ones in a light touch, barely even there.
Then Nino's hand is sliding into Ohno's hair, cupping the back of Ohno's head and bringing him in for a real kiss, no hesitations. The kiss is sure, it's definite and Ohno knows that it isn't a dream, because no dream could feel this real. The kiss tastes like cake and it tastes like beer and it tastes like Nino, and Ohno thinks it's probably the best thing he's ever tasted.
He lets himself get wrapped up in the feelings, lets himself drown in them until he doesn't know what's going on any more, but Nino's pulling him back above water, his tongue nudging against Ohno’s lips, sliding into Ohno’s mouth, both sure and hesitant at the same time, and Ohno knows exactly what he's doing; he's kissing Nino, and he's been wanting to for so long.
“How did it take you this long?” Nino asks later, when the two of them are curled up on Nino's futon (because it stopped being 'the spare futon' about two years ago, when all this began,) arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined, just taking in each other's presence.
“I have no idea,” Ohno answers, and they both laugh. Nino buries his face in the crook of Ohno's neck, and Ohno pulls him a little closer, the scent of Nino’s shampoo invading his senses; Ohno knows he's never been this happy before.
A few days later Ohno doesn’t get off the train at Hamamatsucho. Nino’s been coming to his apartment regularly for two years now, and Ohno doesn’t even know Nino’s station, so he stays. It’s a weeknight, so Ohno knows he should probably be going home to get some rest, he knows that he won’t be able to make their bento boxes for the next day, but that doesn’t really matter. Ohno wants to see where Nino lives.
Nino stands to get off the train at Tamachi station, and Ohno does the same; they walk down the streets to Nino’s apartment in silence, staying close together. Their hands brush gently together as they walk, not holding, just touching, and it doesn’t take them long to reach Nino’s apartment.
Nino’s apartment is tidier than Ohno was expecting. It’s bigger than Ohno’s, with an extra room that Ohno falls in love with the moment he opens the door. There’s a keyboard in one corner, which Ohno plans on asking Nino to play for him later, maybe he’ll even ask Nino to teach him a little, something simple. There are a few guitars, and the only difference that Ohno can discern is that some are electric and others aren’t. Most exciting to Ohno, though, are the records hung on the wall - the songs that Nino wrote, the songs he sang. Right in the middle of them all is their duet.
Ohno must look like an excited child, making his way around the room, running his hands over instruments and CDs; there’s a whole CD rack of all the singles that Nino’s composed - one day Ohno will listen to them all, memorise every melody and message that they carry. On the desk, next to the computer, there’s a half finished score - it’s another duet. Ohno looks to Nino and Nino smiles nervously.
“Do you want to?”
Ohno’s smiling, his fingers tracing the notes, “let’s do it.”
Nino coaxes him out of the music room with promises of their usual conversation and guitar session in the living room. They sit on Nino’s bed, a guitar cradled in Nino’s lap, and Ohno feels like this place is so familiar, even though he’s never been here before; everything about the place is Nino.
They don’t talk for long and they don’t sing for long; they’re distracted by the gentle press of lips against bare skin, whispered confessions and promises, hopes and dreams, puffing warm breath across skin, driving them on, spreading their warmth. They’re distracted by the burning heat of a hand trailing across a neck, a shoulder blade, a back - the warmth lingering everywhere they touch. They’re distracted by each other. They’re distracted by everything about each other, and they never want the distraction to end.
Lips meet in languid kisses as they take their time, no need to rush, no need to hurry. It’s just them right now - them and their touches and their kisses. It’s a slow build up to a perfect breakdown, and afterwards they lie in Nino’s bed, wrapped up in each other as the heat dies away and their breathing slows to its normal rate. Ohno’s heart is still pounding.
“Are you going to write a song about that,” Ohno asks, never wanting to move and break this perfect moment.
Nino laughs quietly, pressing his lips against Ohno’s throat, just because he can, “Maybe,” he says, as he pulls the covers over them, “if you’ll sing it with me.”
Ohno does sing it with him; he sings a lot of songs with Nino, because he thinks he wants to put all these songs together, to make the perfect compilation. ‘NINO & OHNO’ was meant to be a one time thing, but Ohno doesn’t think there’s any harm in doing it once more. This is an album, after all, it’s different; it’s special. The songs are memories - his and Nino’s memories - and Ohno wants to sing them all the time, because they’re that important to him. He doesn’t though, because if he dwells on those songs, those memories, too much, he and Nino won’t be able to make new ones. They won’t be able to sing new songs, and that thought is heartbreaking.
The cover for that album is a painting. It’s a painting of a crowded train in the midst of summer, with two men crushed against each other in the corner, one of them pressed hard against the wall. No one would notice them without it being pointed out, but for Ohno and Nino that’s the part that stands out most of all - that’s the day they met.
The painting is one of Ohno’s, and the lyric booklet is full of more, full of sketches and doodles and paintings and photos of sculptures and figures; almost everything Ohno’s created since he met Nino is in there, and maybe, he thinks, maybe that’s kind of like him getting his own exhibition. It’s an exhibition that can be seen by thousands of people, can be kept by them as long as they want to keep it. Maybe that’s better than getting a ‘real’ exhibition; Ohno likes to think so anyway, and he’ll continue to think so because that means that all of his dreams have come true.
When all of Ohno’s dreams have come true, he knows what he has to do next; he has to make new ones.
They drag themselves out of bed early one morning; Nino’s stayed the night at Ohno’s, so it’s harder than usual to get up because it’s so comfortable lying there wrapped up together, and they’ve only been asleep for about an hour. They crawl out of bed anyway though, because this is for the sake of one of Ohno’s dreams. It’s something that he wanted to do a long time ago, that he’d forgotten but now he’s remembered again; this time it’s a little different though - this time it involves Nino too.
They’re going to ride the Yamanote line, from the very first train until the very last. They’re going to watch the people that get on and off and they’re going to talk and laugh and think of all the new dreams that they need to fulfil. It seems like a lot of time to be on a train, but Ohno knows that it’ll go by faster than either of them expect.
They spend the first couple of hours not saying much. It might be because their brains are still clouded by sleep - and Ohno has no doubt that they will fall asleep again at some point - but it’s probably because they’re lost in thought.
Ohno begins to toy with the idea of him and Nino moving in together, imagining what it would be like. He dismisses it fairly quickly though - for now, anyway. There’s excitement in those few times a month - three or four nowadays - when Nino comes over to his apartment, or he goes to Nino’s. It feels like things wouldn't be quite right if they didn't stay the way they were for a while longer.
Ohno speaks to Nino about it once they’ve eaten lunch, and they decide what it is that they want.
In two years, when Ohno’s thirty and Nino twenty seven, they’ll find somewhere new for the two of them to live together; it’ll be somewhere where Ohno can do his art, and they can make music together. It’ll be somewhere that they can be happy, where things can be almost the same as they are now, but a little better.
It’ll be somewhere on the Yamanote line.