Red Wine, Whiskey, and You

Title: Red Wine, Whiskey, and You
Rating: PG 
Characters/Pairings: Sho/Jun

Word count: 4719
Summary: Jun and Sho, in the span of three years. They never know what to say to each other. 
Warnings/Notes: Because Sakumoto totally exists. lol 

The bar was a small, insider’s kind of place. Not that it was diminutive; the more fitting word would probably be intimate. Distillery Noir had a long oak counter that was lit up by an artfully designed alcohol bottle display at the back, and the bar stools looked glass-like, clear all throughout—all Philippe Starck. There were votive candles everywhere, even though the bar was already well lit with beautiful light fixtures. The bar’s patrons mainly comprised mostly of high income middle-aged businessmen, and at the youngest end of the spectrum, late 20-somethings who enjoyed a quiet place with tasteful music and good drinks. Almost everyone was a familiar face. Jun enjoyed a drink or two of his favorite red wine once a week, usually on Wednesday nights because his manager frequently made Thursdays light on purpose. Jun likes a little respite before the hustle and bustle of Friday, when he has multiple tapings for their variety shows and such.

Well, he used to.

On this February night in 2011, Jun was able to procure the entire bar for himself. He used to be so much of a patron that the bar’s owner was more than happy to oblige him. Of course, it helped that he was Matsumoto Jun.

“How about a special one tonight, Matsumoto-san, for old time’s sake?” asks the wizened yet sharp-dressed bartender behind the counter.

“Please, Kawamura-san.” Jun takes off his gloves and coat, giving it to the attendant who was standing nearby. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and proceeds to light one up. After some minutes, someone plops down noisily beside him.

“You should stop smoking.”

Jun props his elbow on the counter and looks sideway at the man to his right. “Hello to you too.”

Sho takes out his mobile phone and signals to the bartender. “One whiskey on the rocks please, Kawamura-san.” He types on his mobile phone for a few minutes. Jun smirks, then takes a puff of his cigarette.

“Your head’s still at work.”

The smoke lazily wafts up to the ceiling vents. An old recording of Ida Haendel plays discreetly in the background, her violin-playing still distinct, even despite the low volume.

The older man shuts close his mobile phone and swivels to Jun, who was facing him. “Okay, I’m here now.” He wipes his hands with the steaming cloth towel given to him. “This place hasn’t changed a single bit.”

Kawamura-san chuckles. “Maybe the only thing that has changed is the two of you," he says, handing Sho his whiskey, smiling like an old friend. "We have not had the pleasure of serving you in such a long time, Sakurai-san.”

“It’s great to be back, Kawamura-san,” Sho replies, all warmth and sincerity. 

Jun takes a sip of his Brunello di Montalcino red wine. The drink’s familiar overtones of blackberry, black cherry, chocolate, sweet vanilla swill around in his mouth, taking over his taste buds. It is his favorite wine, along with Amarone, which he prefers when he is dining. Whenever he is drinking one of the two, he takes care to savor it. Sho watches him.

“That good?”

“Yes,” Jun replies. He opens his eyes and smiles. He appreciatively inspects his glass, holding it to the light. “Although you wouldn’t know, all you drink is Green Label.”

Sho shrugs and takes a sip of his drink. “It tastes amazing after a busy day.”

“You should give Italian wine a chance,” Jun replies, taking another sip.

“Are you going into your ‘why Italian wine is awesome’ monologue again?”

Jun sighs. “Whatever. You won’t get it until you’ve understood the magic of wines from Montalcino. It’s divine with—“

“—pasta and meat dishes. Right? I remember.” Sho chuckles. “You should cook for me, then I’ll give your wine a chance.”

There was a slight pause, in which their eyes meet surreptitiously.

He puts his hand lightly on Jun’s thigh. “Hey. I’ve missed this.”

It has always been different, when they were alone. They used to come all the time to Distillery Noir, until they didn't. Distillery Noir used to be their neutral zone, if you will, a place where they could talk and be themselves. Not that they knew what they should even talk about, at this point, now that they’re back in this place.

It all started innocently enough, with a simple invitation by Jun to Sho some years ago for a couple of drinks after a grueling day’s work. Not long after, Wednesday nights at Distillery Noir became a ritual that Sho and Jun maintained (and secretly treasured.) As to why they never got around to inviting Nino, Ohno, and Aiba, they could never find an answer that satisfied them. Or, in the first place, they never even questioned why they made Wednesday nights exclusively for the two of them. (Except for that one time, when Sho brought someone. More on that, later.)

The younger man’s face does not reveal anything in reaction to Sho’s remark, only that he was seemingly considering something. Tentatively, he puts his hand on top of Sho’s, and lets it linger there. “I know,” Jun says.

Sho flips his hand over and slowly interlocks his hand with Jun’s. Sho looks away and chews on his lower lip, while Jun drinks more of his Brunello.

Haendel’s rendition of Zigeunerweissen is still playing in the background. Somehow, it seemed to grow louder. When Kawamura passes by to change the ashtray, they swiftly let go of each other’s hand. Just like that, the spell was broken. It was not like Kawamura could see what their hands were doing underneath the counter anyway, but they still felt a sense of disquiet that they could not put their hands on. Perhaps, it was simply shyness. Sho knocks back his glass of whiskey and asks for another one. Like a nervous tic, Jun reaches for another cigarette.

It was still hard, sometimes, to know where the boundaries lie. If anything, being back at Distillery Noir brought back a flood of memories, and not all of them good. There was something in the air. Neither of them had the guts to acknowledge the presence of whatever that “something” was, nor to go back to the past.

But right now, eleven years into Arashi, eleven years into growing up as people still similar yet now also markedly different from when they started out, Sho and Jun found themselves wondering about what was unfolding between the two of them. Unfolding again, if one were to be precise about it.

Why now?

What is this, exactly?

And why has it been going on for three years, whatever it was?

*

Aiba was the first one to comment on it. Several Wednesday nights after Sho and Jun started going to Distillery Noir, Aiba passes by for Jun. They were heading to the jimusho to plan for their first ever Kokuritsu concert. As they were coasting by Roppongi, Aiba casually asks Jun, without looking away from the front and letting go of the steering wheel, about what was “cooking” between him and Sho. Jun, who was chewing on some menthol lozenges, coughs violently.

“You okay, Jun-kun?” Aiba asks, worriedly sneaking looks at Jun.

“Yeah,” Jun says rather weakly.

The stoplight shined a bright red.

“So, what’s with you and Sho-chan?” Aiba has been never the best actor out of the five. He could not mask his curiosity well, if at all.

Jun doesn’t break his gaze with the car in front of them. “Nothing. What are you talking about?”

“Just a vibe~,” Aiba playfully replies.

“No idea what you’re going on about, really.” Jun fixes the buttons on his crisp white long sleeves.

“Didn’t you use to have a crush on Sho-chan back when were Juniors?”

Jun’s eyes get bigger as he turns to Aiba. “I will hurt you, Aiba Masaki.”

Aiba giggles as the stoplight changes to green. “I’m just happy because you’re happy!”

“Am not.”

“Are too.” Aiba doesn’t let off. He knows Jun too well. And Jun knows this. Out of the four in Arashi, Aiba is probably the one who knows him the best, there is no point in denying anything to him. But what is there to deny, Jun thinks. We're just going out for drinks, that’s all.

Aiba is all smiles. “You just seem different.”

“How?”

“Just your vibe. I’m happy for you, whatever it is.”

“Thanks?” Jun begins to fiddle with his phone. He sighs. “We are so late, Aiba. I told you to pass by for me before the evening traffic rush.”

“I know, sorry!”

They were silent for a long of stretch of time. Jun likes silence. 

Out of nowhere, Aiba says innocently, “Must be nice to have regular Wednesday night dates with Sho-chan, huh?”

“You’re noisy.”

“Well, I told you so, it just can’t be any girl." His voice breaks into that high-pitched, garbled noise that passes for talking when he gets excited. Unfortunately, Jun can easily decipher everything."Turns out, it can’t be a girl. It has to Sho-chan!” Aiba couldn’t stop himself laughing.

Jun shoves him. “I don’t care if your car is a Porsche, Aiba, I swear I will grab the steering wheel and ram it straight into a wall if you ever say that again!”

“Mean! After what you did to my car too, that time when I let you drive.” Aiba grins. He doesn’t say anything else because he knows he’s right.

When they get to the jimusho, Sho, Nino, and Ohno were already seated on one side of the table in the meeting room. The managers were on the far side of the long table. “About time you two got here,” Nino remarks.

“Yeah, we’ve been waiting,” Sho says, who was a bit grumpy. Ohno has his head bowed, probably catching a quick nap.

Aiba closes in on Jun and whispers, “He’s definitely been waiting.” He quickly steps away from Jun before Jun could lay his hands on him, and apologizes brightly to everyone else for being late. Aiba takes the seat across Nino, and leaves the seat across Sho for Jun to take. He turns to Jun. “Coming?”

“Coming,” he snarls. Jun wanted the world to swallow him up indefinitely. But of course, that couldn’t happen. He was at the helm of planning for the kind of concert Arashi did not even dare to dream of, ever, and if Jun had to say, he is more ecstatic than he’s ever been, in years.

Jun keeps on denying that those Wednesday nights at Distillery Noir are also partly to blame for his glow.

*

He remembers the first time things got “weird”. By weird, it was something along the lines of a conversation they never had before. Surely, it was at Distillery Noir, after a taping of a couple of Arashi no Shukudai-kun episodes. It was back in 2008 as well, and Sho was a touch inebriated.

Well, okay. Sho was smashed. 

“Jun-kun, why?” Sho was already slurring.

Jun takes a sip of his wine. It’s always been wine. Café del Mar was playing in the background. “What do you mean why?” There is patience in his tone, the kind of patience friends reserved for their drunk companions. (Not until they puke on their shoes, that is.)

Sho’s eyes are bleary and unfocused. “You do know we’re both guys, right?”

The younger man’s cheek burned bright red. He didn’t know why he was so flustered. “Yes, I do.”

“Okay.”

When Jun drops Sho off at his apartment, Sho reaches in for a chaste kiss. Jun doesn’t move away from, nor into the kiss. He wonders if Sho could feel the pounding of his heart through the momentary contact. I hope not, Jun thinks. It was one of those things that he didn’t even know that he wanted. The thunderous and traitorous drumming of his heart betrays him.

It was not the most mind-blowing kiss he’s ever had. Even as Sho deepened it, it was awkward, sloppy, and drunken. But Jun didn’t pull away. He feels something like a combination of ice and fire racing up his spine at the thought that it’s Sho.

Sho’s kissing me.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but he violently pushes Sho away. For a millisecond, Sho’s bloodshot eyes grow wide. But it quickly disappears. Sho swiftly steps off the car and trudges to the back entrance of his apartment’s building.

They never ever mention it out loud.

Jun wonders sometimes if Sho remembers that night, or if he was simply just drunk.

Jun wonders why he pushed Sho away.

Jun wonders why it took that long for him to push Sho away.

Jun wonders about the way Sho looked at him afterwards.

But there were no answers to be had; it was not something he could bring up in conversation with Sho. Maybe, there are just some things they will never be able to say out loud.

Back in Arashi-land, they talk normally and act as if it never happened. They could have gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for Nino. One time, they were all gathered in the green room and Nino goes, “Sho-chan. Jun-kun. I swear. Just make up and do it. Or whatever. I can’t stand the tension!”

Ohno smiles sagely, as if privy to every little secret. Aiba tries not to giggle.

Sho and Jun feel a little like dying.

*

Wednesday nights usually meant relaxing and unwinding to beautiful music and drinks. One particular Wednesday night though, Jun found himself unreasonably vexed when he found Sho sitting on the counter with a girl in tow. He could not explain it. He felt anger, annoyance, and irritation bubble up so quickly that he himself was surprised. Jun closes his eyes and attempts to master his emotions. Why are you even angry, Jun asks himself. He told you he was bringing her.

He takes a deep breath and walks towards the two.

“It’s about time you made it, Matsumoto-kun,” greets Sho, who was on the process of ordering another glass of whiskey.

“Yeah,” Jun replies. He politely goes in front of the girl and introduces himself. “I’m Matsumoto Jun, nice to meet you.” He bows lightly.

The longhaired girl chuckles and smiles shyly, “You don’t even need to introduce yourself at all!” She returns the bow and says, “I’m Kobayashi Mao, nice to meet you too. I’m sorry to intrude on your drinking night. Sakurai-san told me you go out for drinks every Wednesday.”

Jun replies, if a bit colorlessly. “Yes, we do. Don’t worry about it, Sho-kun invited you after all.” Mao beams.

Sho laughs deeply. “That was a little too polite, you two. Well, now that you two have officially met each other, shall we toast?” He hands Jun a glass filled with wine. “I already took pains to order you your favorite. Cheers?”

The three of them clink their glasses together.

All night, Sho and and Mao kept on drinking and laughing. Jun tries to keep up, but he was already in a sullen mood. He couldn’t keep it in. The most he could muster was to be polite, as he was sitting beside them, after all. He was about to absentmindedly play again with his red wine (stirring it clockwise with the tip of his pointing finger, as he has been doing all night) when he realizes he’s finished it. Again. It was his seventh glass.) 

Kawamura-san approaches Jun. “Another round of your Amarone, Matsumoto-san?”

Just as Jun was about to reply, Sho says, “I think Jun-kun has had enough to drink tonight. Right?” He turns to Jun, confident that Jun would agree since Jun usually consciously stops drinking just right before he crosses the line from tipsy to drunk, or if he doesn’t, easily agrees to Sho when Sho tells him he’s had enough wine already. Somehow, that night, Jun’s blood boils when he hears Sho saying it.

“I’m perfectly capable of assessing how much alcohol I can take, Sho-san,” Jun coolly replies.

Sho looks at him a couple of seconds too long. Then he shrugs. “Okay, your call.”

If Mao found any part of that exchange awkward, she did not let on. They let the tension hang in the air and dissipate at its own pace.

Around 1 in the morning, Jun stands up to leave. “Kobayashi-san, I’ll go ahead.” He nods to Sho. “See you tomorrow at the shoot.”

Sho stands up. “How are you going home? Your car’s in the pound and there are no more trains.”

Jun shimmies into his thin navy blue parka. “That’s why there are taxis, Sho-kun.”

“I’ll give you a ride home, I can drop you off after Mao-chan. You live near her.” Mao nods agreeably, smiling.

Jun couldn’t see a way out without seeming more disagreeable than he had already been the entire night, so he acquiesces. When the three of them were in the car, he thanks god that Sho’s taste in music veered towards louder genres, it was hip-hop that night (Cool Kids, if you’re curious), so that he didn’t actually have to make conversation with either Sho or Mao. He speaks to Mao only to say goodbye when she left.

After Mao disappears from view, Sho looks up at the rearview mirror and addresses Jun, who was at the backseat. “Are you seriously intending on treating me like a real chauffeur by not sitting beside me?”

Jun almost laughs at that, but he doesn’t. He goes down and transfers to the passenger seat beside Sho.

“Better,” Sho says. He turns down the volume, for some reason. “Are you…mad?”

Jun doesn’t dare look at Sho. “Drive.”

“That was a perfectly serious question, you know.”

“Drive, and I’ll talk.”

Sho starts the engine and does as he’s told. He almost couldn’t catch the question Jun asked because Jun’s voice was so soft, but he did. Are you and Kobayashi-san going out?

“No. Well, I mean, not yet. I don’t know,” Sho answers, honestly. “We’re working together so maybe it’s a bad idea.”

Jun looks at Sho sideways. “She’s pretty, though.”

“She is.” Sho turns to Jun. “So. Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry about earlier tonight. Just had a rough day, that’s all.”

Sho keeps on driving, and doesn’t answer back. When they get to the driveway of Jun’s apartment, he slows down and stops underneath a dark spot, where the eaves of a big tree blocked the light of the lamppost. Jun knows that he is supposed to go down, but he doesn’t. Sho doesn’t say anything either. He rolls down the windows on both of their sides, letting the summer breeze in.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought her,” Sho says.

Jun couldn’t believe he was about to say what he was about to say, but he proceeds, nonetheless. “Maybe you shouldn’t have.”

It was like a first step into an abyss whose depths were unknown. An unthinkable leap of faith.

Slowly, Sho reaches for Jun’s hand. Jun tries hard not to go rigid, and encloses Sho’s hand with his in turn.

“I’m so confused,” Sho quietly admits. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what…what’s happening. Am I hurting you? Am I—I just—I’m… I’m sorry.” He tightens his grip around Jun, looking into his eyes.

“I’m not a girl, so stop making me feel like one,” Jun says. “This is new for me too.”

Sho was slightly taken aback, and he doesn’t hide it. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Well, what are we doing?”

Sho brings a hand to touch Jun’s cheek lightly. “I don’t know.”

He removes his seatbelt, and comes nearer to Jun. When there was hardly space in between their faces, he asks, “Is this okay?” He hovers over Jun’s lips, looking into Jun’s eyes for some help, or assurance, anything.

Heat rushes up Jun’s body. He could feel Sho’s breath on his face. What made him close the distance, he couldn’t say nor pinpoint exactly. The soft, pliant warmth of Sho’s lips tasting him, inside and out, made him unbuckle his seatbelt as well. The deeper the kiss went, the more entangled their body parts became, as much as the interior of the rather spacious car allowed. His hands crept down Sho’s pants. Sho’s hands felt up Jun inside his shirt, ghosting along every crevice and curve. They couldn’t stop. It was nothing like the kiss they shared the last time, some months ago. This was raw, emotional, muddled, hot—as if they were melting into each other, almost.

Also, no one pushed the other way.

They wanted each other, and they both knew it.

When they break apart, Sho runs his hand through his hair. Jun arranges himself. Before he goes down the car, he says to Sho, “That was definitely okay.”

Sho smiles.

*

Just a week after that, all hell breaks loose.

One of tabloids publishes a story on their front page about Mao and Sho. There is a picture of them kissing inside a car: there was no beating around the bush, it was certainly the two of them. Jun recognizes the chambray shirt Sho was wearing as the one he had on just last Friday.

Johnny was furious. Sho had a lot of explaining to do.

In a quiet, remote corner, Jun’s heart crumbled into microscopic pieces, the refuse of his emotional detritus sucking any will from him to react in any way. To his relief, no one fussed over him, or noticed his silence. Everyone was preoccupied with how it would affect their group activities. Arashi was becoming so popular, and now, this. It's sick and ridiculous, but Jun thought it was a picture of the two of them, during that night, in the first millisecond that he saw the picture. In that aspect, he is at least relieved. Somewhere deep inside, he almost pitied Sho. 

Almost. What the hell, Sho? 

It was only Sho who noticed. They had a band meeting to talk about the incident, and to have the president brief everyone including the managers about the measures, protocols and things that they were supposed to and not to supposed to say, in light of the scandal. Across the room, Sho’s eyes meets Jun’s. The way he gazed at Jun said everything that could not be said out loud: how tired he was, how sorry he was, and how royally he fucked up.

Nothing different from stepping into an abyss, only to find out that you just kept on falling and falling for eternity, never to find solid ground.

Jun looks away. He feels stupid. So stupid.

*

Needless to say, Jun did not come back to Distillery Noir that Wednesday night.

He didn’t come back for a long while.

*

After a couple of months, when everything quiets down, Ohno approaches Jun. It was after one of their Myojo interviews.

“He’s sorry, you know? You should give him a chance to explain,” Ohno says quietly.

Jun only looks at Ohno. Ohno touches him on the shoulder and squeezes, before walking away.

I can’t, Jun thinks.

*

A couple of years pass. It is their concert tour for 2010; their most recent album, Boku no Miteiru Fuukei, was such a massive hit, and coupling that with their still sky-rocketing popularity, they were given another opportunity to perform in Kokuritsu, yet again. Japan loved them, and was rooting for them. It still remained overwhelming for the five, but by now, they were miles better at managing their fame. Arashi remained grateful, and set out to perform the best that they could in the concerts, for old and new fans alike.

Sho and Jun have seemingly mended whatever it was that came between them. Of course, it was not like 2008, those days in Distillery Noir, but at least now, they were civil, and talking, even occasionally joking around. Ohno, Nino, and Aiba did everything they could to help the two, without smothering them, a crutch to a relationship that was barely even one of friendship just a couple of years ago. 

During one of their MCs, Nino entertained everyone with the story of two girls he overheard talking about Jun and his current drama, Natsu no Koi wa Nijiiro ni Kagayaku . According to Nino, the girls were arguing about how different Jun looked in the drama.

Nino is trying to copy the girl’s tone of voice. “It’s completely different! I think he’s probably really in love with somebody!”

Everyone laughs, Jun included.

In connection to Nino’s story, Sho tells everyone about his stylist asking him if it was weird for him to see a member kiss in dramas. According to Sho, his reply to the stylist was: “Not at all.”

To which Jun replies, “It’d be pretty bad if you felt jealous from it.” He was smiling, but the other three felt a little squirmy, trying their best not to react unusually.

Sho, not to be outdone, says, “Yeah, in the dressing room, I wouldn’t be like ‘Ah! Matsujun kissed her, damn it!’ right?”

The audience laughs, unaware of the implications of the two's exchange. Aiba whispers to Nino, “Did they just say that?”

Nino snickers, and covers his mic as he replies to Aiba. “It’s called flirting, idiot. They’re in for a world of pain after the concert.”

*

They were both good talkers, but when it was just the two of them, they found themselves constantly tongue-tied, especially after what happened in the relatively recent past. It was after the concert, and somehow, they were the only two left in the locker room. I’m going to kill you, Nino, Jun thinks.

“Great concert,” Sho remarks, as if he wasn’t part of it.

Jun zips his gym bag close. “Yeah.”

“Um, let’s head out to the van? They’re waiting.”

“Okay.”

*

Exhaustion hangs over the air limply, all the post-concert endorphins already dissipating away. Nino, Aiba, and Ohno are seated at the back row of the van, the three of them arranged in such a way that they would comfortably fit. Nino despised being in the middle, though, because Aiba had the tendency to bang his head on his shoulders unconsciously when he fell asleep. Nothing he can do now, anyway, because Ohno was already dozing peacefully on his shoulder. Aiba was texting someone, but he was probably soon to follow in Ohno’s footsteps.

Sho and Jun are both looking outside the window: Jun to the left, Sho to the right. At the van’s dark aisle, though, their hands were entwined together.

Nino pretends not to notice. He feels like a stalker. He doesn’t breathe a word to Aiba, who wouldn’t be able to contain himself from commenting, or worse, exploding in excitement. Finally, Nino thinks.

When they get to Jun’s stopover, Nino noticed Sho squeezing Jun’s hand before he let go. The corner of Nino’s mouth involuntarily hikes up. He now legitimately felt like a creepy stalker for watching and smiling.

“Night,” Jun says, to no one in particular, before stepping off from the van.

*

Aiba was unusually quiet. He watches his slender, dark-haired band member playing with the hem of his shirt across him. They are in the studio, during a shooting break.

“Jun?”

Jun looks up.

“It’s okay, you know?”

He twitches imperceptibly. “What’s okay?”

“You and Sho-chan.” Aiba throws a can of soda to Jun, who catches it. “It’s okay that you’ve already forgiven him. It’s okay that you’re not angry anymore.”

Jun doesn’t say anything and pops the soda open. Aiba watches him drink it down, almost in one go.

It was just like when they were young. Aiba still and will always know Jun best.

*

No one was rushing into anything.

Nothing changed; they still couldn’t say things to each other. At the very most, Jun invited Sho to a Wednesday night in Distillery Noir, after all those years.

They were starting at the very beginning, again. Theirs is a love that didn’t, and wouldn’t, quit. Not if Nino, Ohno, and Aiba, could help it. Not even if they still couldn’t say it out loud, not to each other, not even to themselves.

Wednesday nights at Distillery Noir was a start, with red wine, whiskey, and unsaid truths down their throats.