Nino wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe he had or maybe he was just too damn tired to notice the way Ohno had been looking at him. Nino knew without a shadow of a doubt how he himself looked at Ohno; he’d been caught with his eyes lingering more than once and his touch lingering twice as often. He couldn’t help it. Rehearsals and filming and concerts all forced his attention onto Ohno. Nino acknowledged his physical attraction to Ohno quite easily; Sho agreed with him. Something about Ohno’s small but solid frame was a treat to view, and the effect only increased when he was moving. Nino could happily watch Ohno dance for hours. His lithe form had a power to it that made it almost impossible to look away.
"You can see how natural it is for him," Sho once commented, and Nino quietly agreed. Ohno never looked quite as aware of the rest of the world as when he was dancing.
But it was more than just that; Nino liked watching Ohno draw, too. Ohno’s brows would knit and his elegant hands curled around his pencil just so. Sometimes his tongue slipped out to wet his lip, and Nino would swallow hard and have to look away. Ohno didn’t seem to mind if Nino pressed against his side, his head pillowed on both arms, and stared at him through half-lidded eyes.
"Nino," Ohno said one day, as Nino’s eyes burned a hole in his face.
"Hmm?"
Ohno looked up, his eyes flashing uncertainly and he opened his mouth as if to speak. But he abruptly shut it again and curled in on himself, shaking his head.
"Nothing," he said. "Never mind."
Nino hadn’t really expected to get quite as sick that year as he did. At first it was just a fever, a small cold. Nothing he hadn’t worked through a hundred times before. But two weeks later Sho found him curled on a backstage couch shivering and cradling his right arm.
"Hey," Sho said softly, sitting on the couch and lifting Nino’s head into his lap. "You don’t look so good."
"I’m the ugly one, everyone knows that," Nino joked, but the humor was somewhat lost when his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering. Sho frowned, pulling off his jacket and laying it over Nino’s shoulders. His head brushed Nino’s bangs away from his forehead, and Nino knew the minute Sho discovered his temperature by the way he sucked in a breath.
"Nino," Sho said quietly. "You’re burning up."
"I noticed," Nino said, curling into Sho’s warmth. "I’m freezing."
Sho reached down to rub Nino’s arm to heat him back up, and Nino let out a sharp cry of pain. Instantly, Sho’s hand moved to Nino’s back, steadying him as he sucked in air.
"Oh," Nino gasped. "That hurt. That really, really hurt."
"What did you do?" Sho asked, clearly thinking it was a pulled muscle.
"Nothing," Nino insisted. "My whole arm is messed up, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with it."
"Your whole arm?" Sho asked, gently lifting Nino’s hand. "Bend your fingers for me."
Nino attempted it; slowly, his fingers bent. His thumb remained totally stationary.
"How long have you been sick?"
"About two weeks, I guess," Nino admitted. "But it was just a stupid fever, it really wasn’t anything."
"I’m calling the manager," Sho said seriously. Nino groaned.
"I’m fine, it’s just a flu or something," he insisted. "I’m fine, Sho."
"No," Sho said softly, brushing Nino’s hair off his forehead again. "You’re not okay. And I’m calling a manager, and then we are going to the hospital."
No amount of protest could change Sho’s mind, and they went to the hospital a few hours later. For the next two weeks, Nino received antibiotics and painkillers, as well as more than a few extremely suspicious and worried looks from his friends. But he would tolerate that as long as they swore not to forbid him from performing in the concerts; daily injections of painkillers numbed him enough to be able to dance, and someone was always willing to sit down and let him nap with his head on their lap before the show.
It wasn’t until later that Aiba told him how Ohno and Jun had spent hours tweaking the choreography to make things easier on him. Moves that required him to lift his bad arm a lot were cut or changed to a less painful action; parts where he had to run around a lot were exchanged for ones where Aiba ran instead. In six days, they had adjusted every single dance. Jun, Aiba explained, had been thinking about it, but it was only with Ohno’s help that they’d finished in time, and Ohno had been the one to bring the issue up in the first place.
By the time 24hr TV rolled around, Nino had recovered enough to be on normal antibiotics, although after an odd reaction to the first ones, management had agreed that he had best be spending the night at the hospital for a while. So every day, once filming of his drama wrapped up, he stumbled through the hospital doors, allowed his temperature and blood pressure to be checked, before passing out for a few hours sleep. By the third day of this, Nino wanted nothing more than to sleep in his own bed, uninterrupted, for an entire week.
On the day of 24hr TV, Nino had a suspicion that his friends were taking turns keeping watch over him. He was followed every where he went, and he could set his watch by how often one of them asked, "How are you feeling?" By the time they were told to sleep, Nino was so sick of his well-being being questioned, he’d taken to answering, "I’m feeling a bit homicidal, actually, thanks for asking."
Ohno at least had the sense not to keep asking if Nino was alright; instead, he would gently rest his hand on Nino’s lower back. The touch was a subtle inquiry, but one that only needed Nino’s nod to satisfy. And if Nino quietly shook his head, then Ohno’s touch would turn into a warm, one-armed hug. Nino leaned into his hold, closing his eyes into the comfort Ohno offered.
"Hey," Nino said softly as they finished their dinner. "I’m tired."
"I noticed," Ohno laughed, squeezing Nino’s hand. "Want to sleep?"
"Yes, please," Nino said sweetly. Ohno laughed again, and they went to the room where futons had been laid out. Nino’s grip on Ohno’s hand dragged him down into the same futon, and they curled up under the cover, exhaustion taking its toll.
"Don’t get mad at me," Ohno said with a sheepish smile, leaning in to bump their noses together. "But are you okay?"
Nino sighed but couldn’t summon up the energy to be angry. "Yeah. Just tired."
"Okay," Ohno said softly. "I’m—I’m glad. I was worried."
"I know you guys were," Nino said, rolling his eyes. "You haven’t left me alone since we got here."
"I didn’t mean the others," Ohno said. "I meant me. I was worried."
"Oh," Nino said, not sure how that mattered. "Thanks?"
"I missed you," Ohno said quietly, his eyes closing. His arm around Nino’s waist tightened slightly, and Nino shivered as Ohno buried his nose in Nino’s hair and inhaled. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," Nino said quietly, feeling his heart clench. "A lot."
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