The JxIno story continues...

Woohoo! My AP Biology test has been postponed, and my brother promised to let me have the
computer for the afternoon! Therefore I actually will be writing another chapter of this long fic. It’s fun, and best of all, unlike net surfing, it actually looks like I’m doing work when my parents check on me. Ah, just as long as they don’t look too closely...the content doesn’t much resemble a dissertation on British Literature ne? Well, here comes the introduction of that adorable monkey...though he’s not that adorable yet, more of a troubled teenager.

Anyway, heads up! It’s
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Chapter 6: Fate
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Sugizo stretched his legs out and arched his back. He had been sitting on his bed cradling
his guitar since J left, but the inspiration wasn’t there. I’m dry, he thought idly. I
think I need some wine to get the creative juices flowing again. He headed down the stairs,
looked in the cabinet. To his annoyance, there was practically nothing there. Chikusho.
It seems I’m not the only one draining the supply. I suppose they didn’t want to go
empty-handed to that party. A smile twisted his lips at the thought that he actually
consumed more alcohol than his parents. If his father had opened the wine cabinet, then he
probably noticed how much was missing. No doubt I’ll be hearing about this later. Well
well well. If I restock now, maybe they’ll forget. At any rate I could use some...

He grabbed a plain jacket and some money. If you look less punky the store owners don’t
harass you about your age as much. Good thing I went light on the makeup today...though it
was funny the way he looked at me last time, like he wanted to find out whether I was male
or female and didn’t dare ask. As he headed out the door, he heard a sound--running feet
and angry shouts. He watched curiously as a thin figure with long black hair streaming out
came around the corner, flying up the street. Behind it he could hear someone screaming
in a menacing way, "Come back, you little bastard. I swear you’ll pay for that window if I
have to sell your worthless hide to get the money!!!"

As the running boy--Sugizo could see that much--drew closer, a strange impulse popped into
his mind. Never one to disobey his instinct, he waited until the boy was almost at the
fence and then shouted "Oi!" gesturing for him to turn into his house.

Ryu ran like crazy. He had heard that kind of tone before in a voice. When it came from a
solidly built man like the storekeeper, it meant trouble: contacting his parents, contacting
the police, or possibly some bruises. He didn’t intend to find out which, so he ran.
Goddamn bastard. Serves you right for calling me a thief. I’ll be a beggar before I bother
to shoplift from your store. But his wind was starting to give out, and it sounded like his
pursuer was catching up. Shit...what do I do...what was that? Ryu’s brain blurrily
registered the figure at the door--letting him in? a trick he’ll turn me in no wait it’s
just a boy damn no choice he’s at the corner here goes--

He dashed up the steps to Sugizo’s house and past Sugizo, who pulled the door shut just as
the furious shopkeeper turned the corner.

Panting too hard to do anything but struggle for breath, hands on his knees, Ryu lifted up
his head to stare at his "rescuer." He blinked. He certainly doesn’t look like the type of
kid who lives in a house like this, on a street like this, he thought. It wasn’t just the
hair or the makeup, it was his attitude. There was a subtle feeling of rebellion beneath
his calm exterior which Ryu had never encountered in the suburbs before. Why the hell did
he let me in? Not to play Good Samaritan, I bet.

Sugizo looked at the boy, who was slowly recovering from his exertion. He was knife-thin,
with long black curly hair that hung on the sides of high cheekbones. Looking up at Sugizo
curiously, he took a deep breath and said in a surprisingly even voice, "Thanks." Sugizo
said nothing, just went to the window.

"He’s still out there, you better wait in here a while."

"Why did you help me?"
Shrug.
"Do I know you?"
Shake. "What’s your name?"
"Kawa--Ryuichi. You are...?"
"Sugizo."

The doorbell interrupted their terse conversation. Ryu jumped. Sugizo grinned, an
expression which made him look amazingly less aloof.
"You better go to upstairs while I talk to your angry...friend." Ryu didn’t argue; he
quickly and quietly disappeared. He could hear Sugizo talk to the man in indifferent tones
while the man kept trying to see past Sugizo into the house. Finally Sugizo pretended to
lose patience and mention the police. At that, the man grumbled and made a half-hearted
apology. Ryu withdrew from the top of the stairs and wandered down the hallway. A
half-open door caught his eye, and he looked in. To his surprise, he saw a brown electric
guitar laying on a bed. Just then, Sugizo closed the door and went up the stairs. Ryu
turned away from the door, not sure whether his benefactor would feel that he was prying.
He didn’t seem to mind, though. Seeing Sugizo unconcerned, Ryu couldn’t help but ask, "You
play?"

Nod. "You?"
"I’m the vocalist in a band, "Slaughter."
Sugizo raised his brows. "Vocalist?" He thought for a moment.
Seeing him fall silent, Ryu rose to go. "Thanks again. I owe you."

"Wait!"
Ryu turned.

"Care to cancel out that debt?"
..............................................................................................

J felt his jaw drop when he saw just who was standing next to Sugizo. Beside him, Inoran
shook his head in shock. Sugizo watched their reactions to their new vocalist, surprised
that they seemed to recognize him, but they only confirmed his conclusion about Ryu.

He will choose to join our band. It’s fate.
..............................................................................................

J chose to see it more as a stroke of luck that the person he and Inoran had been futilely
trying to find had somehow landed on Sugizo’s doorstep, but he had to admit that it did
seem uncanny. If it is our fate, then I won’t argue. Ryu is exactly what we needed. He
has the charisma and the voice, and, more importantly, he fits the band.

The moody teenager with a strong romantic streak quickly settled in with
the rest of the members, and soon the music they created began to sound like a true band, a
group art with all the elements separate but part of the whole.

Finally, we have a band.

Inoran agreed. With so many new members, their music became more distinctive; each person
left their mark. Depending on who wrote what, it ranged from dark pain and angst to
delicate emotion. "We need a new name," he said suddenly. J looked up from his bass.
"Why? What’s wrong with Lunacy?"
"We have a new band, it should have a new name. Besides, we’ve gone beyond our old style."
"Any ideas then?"
"Not yet. It’ll come to me."
...............................................................................................

J flopped down on his bed, too exhausted to even groan at his sore muscles’ protest. He lay
there a long time, in too much pain to sleep.

God, this is hell. Working at the goddamned construction site all day, then having to
practice...think I was too tired to get all the chords right. We’ll never make it as a band
if I don’t have enough fucking energy to play. Ino has it easier, he gets to drive around
and inspect rivers or something all day. Not that I grudge it to him. He’d really die if
he had to work like that. Those arms of his are way better with a guitar. Thinking of
Inoran, he sat up. Remember what you’re doing this for, dammit. My dream. His dream. Our
dream. We’ll be famous.

If I don’t kill myself first.

He shook his head angrily. Snap out of it! This only lasts until we get enough money to
make some tapes, hire some livehouses. They liked us at the Machida Play House gig. And
we sold more tapes of "Shade" than I expected...We just need more exposure--and I think
I need a drink. Helping himself to the beer in the fridge, he slung down a can,
appreciating the cool bitterness. After another can, he felt himself slowly start to relax.

Think...think I can sleep now.

The next morning he could barely stand to drag himself out of bed, thinking about the day
ahead of him. Bleary-eyed, he stumbled to the fridge, opened up another can. The taste
woke him up a little , and he felt better with every gulp. On the way back from practice
that night, he bought another six-pack. He had a feeling that he’d be needing it.

After a month, he made the discovery that cheap wine worked just as well as beer, although
it wasn’t cold. And it came in nice large bottles, as opposed to the cans which had come
to seem way too small. A couple months after that, he moved on to whiskey. Although it
tasted worse, it didn’t take as much whiskey as wine to loosen him up--at least, at first it
didn’t.
........................................................................................................

Inoran walked slowly, worrying about J, which was pretty much all he did lately.

Maybe this stress is too much for him. Thank God that between the gigs and our jobs we
finally have nearly enough money, so he won’t have to work too much longer. I don’t
know what’s happening to him...he barely talks, plays less and less, doesn’t show up to
practices, and when I go to see him he’s either drunk or won’t talk to me. He’s never been
like this before. It’s as if he’s stopped caring. I don’t even know if he still has his
job. I feel like he needs my help. It’s hard to have to walk away from him, but he won’t
let me do anything else. I waited for three hours yesterday...What should I do? What can
I say? How can I get through to him?

J yelped. He had burned himself while trying to light a cigarette with fingers unsteady
from nearly a bottle of whiskey. Finally he managed to get it lighted, and leaned against
the cracked wall of his cheap rented room. Alternating between another bottle and his
cigarette, he thought about Ino’s visit. He knew that he should have been at Sugizo’s place
practicing, but after his job he couldn’t wait to get home and mellow himself with alcohol.
He had lost count of the times he had skipped. The rest of the band was starting to get
angry, and Ino had come over to see him again, concerned, but J had refused to talk with him.

I...don’t want him to see me now, like this, he thought fuzzily.

Damn it, I don’t want to see him. I don't need his concern, or his nagging. F-ck that, I
don’t need anything, just my room and--and alcohol. He puffed out, drank some more, and
tried to ignore the growing sensation of guilt. As he worked himself into a rhythm, he
started to feel drowsy, and soon his hand fell nervelessly by his side, leaving the
cigarette smoldering on the floor. A tiny trace of smoke began to form. As he shifted
slightly in his sleep, he knocked over the open bottle of whiskey. A golden flood chugged
out, soaking into the cheap carpet in a spreading stain. The embers from the cigarette grew
into a tiny flame, which burned its way steadily across the carpet. Then it reached the
whisky-soaked section, and spread across it hungrily. As the growing flames cast a
flickering orange light on his face, J slept on, oblivious.

To be continued...

Well, I got half of my objectives accomplished! The band is now complete, although they
haven’t found their new name yet. That happens next chapter, I hope, as I continue their
indies chronicle. With a minimal amount of information, I am attempting to follow the LS
history as faithfully as possible. If you want to help me out with information, I’d be
really grateful! In fact I’ll try to work it into the story. Chapter 6 was inspired by
information which I discovered only recently, that J is a recovered alcoholic. I’m moving
up the occurrence of his illness and recovery though because I don’t plan to take this fic
into their current fame, at least not until their solo year! You’ve probably all figured
out that J survives this. (Hey! I’m not about to let our beloved Pyromaniac roast in his
own fire!) So guess who helps him get through his drinking problem? And guess how it
affects their relationship? Go look at the top of the page if you can’t guess...^_^ That's
my promise that it will actually get romantically angsty soon. Unless I come up with any
more ideas, which doesn’t seem likely at this point. Feel relieved?

Y’all must be getting very tired of me by now. Thanks for putting up with me and my writing,
and send any comments, suggestions, complaints, whatever, to <A HREF="mailto:aki2000@xpres.net">aki2000@xpres.net</A>.

The JxIno story continues...

Well, there will be no long wordy intro today (keep the cheerin’ down, will ya?) cuz I’ve
got less than a hour to write this. So wish me luck, here goes--I'll finish this chapter
today, I

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Chapter 7: Swear
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Ino wrenched into a sitting position. Sleep had been abruptly ripped from him in an overwhelming surge of fear, and he could still feel his heart pounding coldly in his chest. He forced himself to lay back down. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. Just a nightmare. But unlike a nightmare, this fear wouldn’t go away. Instead, it only increased with every moment.
Hardly even realizing what he was doing, he flung the sheets off the bed and started dressing feverishly. Normally he would have questioned his bizarre actions--it was the middle of the night, after all--but the sensation driving him was too urgent, too strong for him to hesitate. All thoughts were practically driven from his head as he hurried down the stairs and out the door.

It’s times like this that I really wish I had a car, he thought while jogging in the chill night air. Then wherever I’m going, at least I’d get there a little faster. Am I going crazy or is it all a dream? He passed between the dull circles cast between street lamps and the night, light to dark, dark to light. It added to the surreal quality of his entire experience. It must be the most horrible dream I’ve ever had...this feeling’s going to drive me insane! If I’m not already, that is. Where am I going? Who needs me? He broke into a run.

In J’s apartment, a large portion of the carpet was already blazing. Fortunately for him, the whiskey had spilled away from him so the fire tended to grow in that direction. Still, the cigarette which had started it was already consumed in flames, which soon began to lick at his
hand.

Already stupefied with smoke, he did not react.

J! his mind screamed all of a sudden. This is the way to J’s apartment! The two thoughts were almost simultaneous, and Inoran lowered his head and ran even harder. As he reached the apartment building, he frantically entered the code that opened the gate. Open, open, open dammit! So slow...what if I’m too late oh god don’t let anything happen, don’t let anything be wrong with him. I’d rather be crazy than right about this. As the gate swung open with agonizing slowness, he dashed through and into the building.

He pounded up the three flights of stairs to J’s room, ignoring his laboring lungs. The corridor was eerily quiet, but he knew something was wrong. Smoke!!! I smell smoke. "J!" He pounded the door madly. Down the hall people grumbled. "Fire!!!" he screamed. "Get out, people!" Frightened faces appeared from the doorways, and scantily-clad figures began rushing down the stairs. He ignored them all.

One final pound and he gave it up. J wasn’t going to wake up, he realized. With a surge of adrenaline born of pure terror, he struck the door with all his strength. The cheap door lock snapped under the strain, and he stumbled into the smoke-choked room. Where is he where is he?!? Almost as if someone had called him, his head snapped in the direction of the flames. Before his eyes had consciously registered the sight of the slumped figure, he had already taken the few steps to where J was propped against the wall. Seizing him roughly, he quickly pulled J out of the flames and into the hallway. Then, with more strength than he would have thought he was capable of, he hoisted the limp body over his shoulders and took J outside.

He laid J’s body on the ground carefully. Another resident headed inside purposefully with an extinguisher. The fire had been fairly small; there was no need to call the fire department. With any luck the damage to the room would be minimal. Inoran didn’t even spare a glance at the building. He looked at J’s motionless body, held down the panic rapidly rising in his throat. He forced himself to look at J's scorched and bleeding hand, and was relieved to find the burn smaller than he had expected. But--

Something’s wrong...he’s too still...oh god is he breathing? He laid his ear next to J’s mouth, couldn’t detect anything. "SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!" he screamed to no one, anyone. Ten minutes, the number whirled up out of his panic, he's got ten minutes before the brain goes. No time--he’ll be gone before they get here. Inoran’s mind raced like an engine bent on tearing itself to pieces. Thoughts awhirl, he felt increasingly desperate watching his best friend dying in front of his eyes. He closed them, he couldn’t bear to see him so terribly motionless.

I didn’t get there soon enough, he’s going to die, it’s all my fault...

Suddenly he opened his eyes. It was if a flash had cleared the confusion in his head. Can’t panic now, he needs me. Time for me to save him. Think! How to help him breathe again? Automatically he bent down and placed his mouth on J’s, pinched his nose shut. Blew out once, twice. Waited. Blew out again, once, twice. Wait. Was about to breathe out again, when--

J coughed once, weakly. Inoran gasped in shock and relief. Though he hadn’t admitted the possibility to himself, deep down he had been afraid that J wouldn’t wake up. He bent anxiously over his friend. His narrow eyes remained shut, but now Inoran could detect faint breathing. Oh god, thank god, thank god he repeated in his mind as the whine of the ambulance grew in the background.
..................................................................................................................

Inoran looked down at the still face lying on the stretcher. It terrified him to see J, usually so strong, looking so helpless. His face was pale and smudged with smoke, looking much frailer than he had ever seen it look. Against the crisp white sheets, J looked so...young. And vulnerable.

Open your eyes, he silently pleaded. I won’t forgive myself if you die. Why didn’t I try harder to help my closest friend? Stupid you, had try to handle everything on your own. J, if you get through this, I won’t let you suffer by yourself again. Whatever your pain is, I’ll help you, I’ll share it.

I swear.

At the hospital, he paced impatiently as J was wheeled into emergency treatment. After an hour, he was still waiting, head buried in hands. He looked up instantly as the doors opened and a doctor came out, looking solemn. Dread formed a cold hollowness in his stomach. "How is he?"

The doctor shook his head uncertainly. "He has some second and third degree burns on his hand, but they should heal without
scarring badly. We won’t have to graft. That’s the good news." Inoran waited for him to continue, silently trying to prepare for the worst and realizing simultaneously that he couldn’t.

"Unfortunately, he’s suffering from smoke inhalation. He nearly suffocated in there, and if you hadn’t pulled him out and gotten him breathing again, he’d be meeting his ancestors by now. It seems like he hasn’t suffered any brain damage, but we can’t be sure until he wakes up."

"And when will that be?'

"He’s in a coma now."

Inoran felt his heart clench at the word, "coma."

"But," the doctor added, "if he wakes up within the next twenty-four hours there’s an excellent chance of a full recovery."
...........................................................................................................................

Inoran looked through the window of the ICU, staring at J’s face beneath the tangle of the oxygen mask. His arm was swathed in bandages, and an IV dripped slowly into his veins. Three hours had passed and there was no sign of change. The clock ticked relentlessly, each movement of the hands seemed to by lessening J’s chances until Inoran was ready to tear it off the wall. He hadn’t even called the other members yet. It was still the middle of the night and there was no point in waking them; if--no matter what happened, there would be time to explain afterwards. Gods, don’t let it be time to grieve.

Another two hours later, Inoran was still staring at J. His eyes were dry and burning and he ached with fatigue and stress, but he refused to leave his post. I should never have stopped watching in the first place--then this never would have happened.

He looks so isolated.

Inoran wanted to reach right through the glass and clasp his hand, reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Suddenly, he blinked. Was it my imagination, wishful thinking? Did I see J...move? No! He did. I know it. He scrutinized him for any signs of further movement. Suddenly his heart, which had been on a rollercoaster for the past several hours, seemed to leap straight off the track. With indrawn breath, he watched as J opened his eyes, and looked straight at him--tiredly, but with recognition. Then he closed them again and seemed to fall asleep, breathing a little more deeply.

Inoran sank to the ground, limp with relief. All of the tension of the past six hours ran out of him, leaving him feeling utterly drained. He began to cry, sobbing in weak gulps. Hearing the sound, a nurse walked out of the nearby office.

"Sir, are you alright?" When he lifted his tear-stained face to her in response, she was startled to see a beautiful smile of pure joy on his face.
.............................................................................................................................

The band members gathered around J. He was finally strong enough to talk to them, after a couple days spent resting out of the ICU.
"J, you are inconsiderate," said Sugizo. J looked at him with a scowl, having lost none of his temper with his injuries. "How’s that?" he growled, then coughed. Inoran watched him anxiously.
"If you die, then where will we find another bassist?"
The friends burst into laughter, but Inoran found his mouth dry just at the thought of how close that had come to being true. The doctor had seemed amazed that J had recovered so quickly. "He has an amazingly strong will to live," he had said.

Shinya looked at his bandaged hand. "J, will you really be OK? How bad is it?" His voice reflected the worry that all of them felt, though they expressed it in different ways.
"I’ll be fine. I have to, we can’t be held back," J said quietly.

"With such determination, of course we’ll succeed," spoke Ryu. "But hey, try not to burn down anymore buildings, Pyro! Or we’ll never have enough money to have a concert!"

J suddenly remembered the cause of his hospitalization. "The building, did we have to pay very much?" How ironic it would be the money I was breaking my back for in the first place, is lost due to this mess I’m in because of the work...He looked to their financier, Ino, who was being strangely quiet.

"No," Inoran interjected hastily. "The insurance covered just about all of it, don’t worry about it." Nothing is worth so much of your pain, he thought. It’s only money. Don’t throw your life away for it.
"You are kicked out as a tenant, though," Sugizo said. "The landlady decided that people like you weren’t worth the yen."
"Then where the hell will I live?"
"With me," Inoran said fiercely. Heads turned to look at him curiously, but he didn’t waver. This is the only way to keep an eye on you. I won’t let this happen again.

J just nodded. He remembered--or was it a dream? seeing Inoran across the room, staring through the window at him. It felt as if he reached out and pulled me back to consciousness, just for an instant. No matter what, he just wants to help me.

He leaned back, starting to feel worn out though he struggled not to show it. He hated his own weakness. The other members saw it and tactfully began to leave. Inoran remained behind, and J didn’t comment. These days Inoran practically lived in the sickroom, refusing to leave his friend. Although J feigned irritation at being "babied," he was careful not to drive Ino away. Although at this point, I’m not sure if I could, he reflected. It didn’t matter. He didn’t really want to be left to spiral back into the numb and lonely void of drink. I guess...I need him, he thought as he sank into slumber.

To be continued...

Well, whatcha think? I know I’m not doing a good job of keeping their personalities separate (so shoot me, I’ve never had the incredible luck of knowing them personally!) but at least I sort of have a plot--really! It’s all leading up to the realization of their relationship. But there’s a lot of pain and rejection yet to come, so don’t get too comfortable yet. This is a tricky fanfic...I think my next one (collective groan) will be totally different, maybe a fantasy or somesuch. Guys, it’s harder than you think, really. Tonikaku, try it for yourself!

As usual, please send all feedback to aki2000@xpres.net! Thanks for sticking with me through seven chapters. ^.^v

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