The light played across his skin, liquid and silver. His touch was soft like this platinum shimmer, it was poisonous like mercury; tantalizing and all-consuming. Bangs brushed forward, enough to partially obscure one eye, brush against long, dark lashes. His eyes were closed in peaceful, content slumber. He seemed almost able to glow, laying there in the moonlight, blissful in relaxed sleep.

Hisashi released a noiseless sigh, absently stroking Jiro's smooth back. Jiro had one arm thrown over Hisashi's chest, hugging him possessively, and he was pressed against him, head resting on Hisashi's shoulder comfortably. Hisashi, laying on his back, had his arm beneath Jiro's head and shoulders, curled around the bassist, now drawing meaningless patterns with feather-light touches on his back.

In that bed, in the moonlight, they were happy, content, and together. Not two separate entities, but one.

< Why can't we always be like this? > the guitarist mused to himself, eyes still trailing aimlessly over Jiro's features and figure. His thoughts were elsewhere. And unlike Jiro, he had not slept yet. He felt not only awake, but - regretful, wistful, sad. Things he should not be feeling now.

< I'm not supposed to lay here after we make love and think like this... I should go to sleep with you in my arms, I should just be *happy*. But... But I can't... >

< Because I'm not happy. >

"Jiro," he murmured out loud, voice barely breaking the moonlit, blue silence. "Why does it have to be like this?"

Together by night. Separate by day.

He shifted, enough so that he could lean down and place a soft kiss on his lover's temple.

< I need to sleep, > he thought. < Thinking like this right now will solve nothing. >

Repressing another sigh, he shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and Jiro, in his sleep, automatically adjusted, pressing closer to Hisashi with a wordless mutter. They were together by night, so he would rest now while he still might find peace.

When tomorrow came, however, he was resolved. He and Jiro needed to talk.

*

This wasn't the first time they had this conversation. Hisashi wondered if it would be the last.

"I don't see why this bothers you so much," Jiro said irritably. All traces of sleep were finally gone from his eyes. Instead, they flashed in annoyance and what might have been accusation.

"I just don't understand why we can't tell Glay," Hisashi argued quietly.

Jiro frowned. "We've discussed this before, Hisashi." Normally Jiro called him Hisa or Tono in the mornings. At practice it was altered, it was Hisashi or Tonomura. But when they were together, alone, it was supposed to be different.

Hisashi repressed a wince for the change this morning. But it was unavoidable.

"Isn't this important to you?" he demanded, gaze piercing. By 'this' he meant their relationship, and the other man understood.

Jiro's face softened slightly. "Yes, you know it is," he replied, "but why do they have to know? Why do you care?"

Hisashi looked away. < Why do I care? You know... I'm not sure. I just know I do. > "I don't know," he said to Jiro. "But... why should *they* care?"

"Because we're pop idols, Hisa," Jiro said, sitting up more fully in bed, pushing himself off of his elbows. "Because we're band members, both men, and we're sleeping together, we have a relationship. Do you think people can just accept that so easily?" Jiro's tone indicated that he certainly didn't believe it.

"I didn't say I want to tell the whole world," Hisashi snapped defensively. "But this is Takuro and Teru we're talking about - they deserve to know!"

"It's too risky," Jiro argued. "We just - we just can't."

Hisashi's anger flared slightly at the decisive way Jiro spoke. "Are you ashamed, Jiro?" he asked.

The blonde didn't pacify him, merely rolled his eyes. "I'm not ashamed," he said.

"Doesn't it bother you, though?" Hisashi pressed. "That what we have is only deal at night? At practice, in front of the press - we have a façade, Jiro. You act bouncy and cheery and I act annoyed by it. We get into arguments over stupid things. Doesn't it just get old?"

The only problem with those words, he knew, was that more often these days the 'arguments' they staged for the others and for the world, so no one would suspect, were not staged anymore. They were real. Because the further this relationship progressed, the longer they were together, the more Hisashi didn't want to hide it. He simply wanted to tell the band, get it out in the open, so that maybe Jiro and Hisashi could be happier together, could always be happy *and* together.

< Is that really so much to ask? Surely... Surely the band would understand. Takuro and Teru are our friends.... >

Jiro glared at him, pouting slightly. "No," he said, "no, I don't get tired of it because it's necessary. It's too much to risk."

Hisashi felt a flash of hurt. < Is it all about risk, Jiro? Appearances...? > He covered that stab of pain with cold indifference, lacing his words with just a touch of sarcasm. "So 'we' only exist at night? During the day it just doesn't matter?"

"I didn't say that," Jiro said harshly.

Hisashi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "But what about us?" he pressed. "I just - I just think that if we got this in the open we could stop pretending and we could be happy, we could be happy like we were when this started...."

Jiro's gaze never left him, and Hisashi saw it change. He saw a flicker of surprise, anger, hurt, and - surprisingly - acrid bitterness flash by.

"Are you trying to say you're unhappy?" he finally asked, low voice strangely emotionless.

Hisashi forced his gaze to stay steady. "I don't know anymore."

Jiro's gaze flashed. "Damn you," he snapped. Movements stiff and sharp, he left the bed and dressed quickly. Hisashi remained where he was, eyes fixed on the door but not seeing it.

< I'm tired, Jiro. I'm tired of pretending, I'm tired of putting things before this. Doesn't this mean something to you...? >

When Jiro was dressed and he had had time to think, he spoke again. "I don't see why you can't be happy with this, Hisashi. What we have is unreasonable enough as it is, why do you have to - have to ask for *more*? Why can't you be
happy like this?"

"Why don't you want to tell the others?" Hisashi snapped. "Because if they know will it be too much, too real, and you'll have to face me during the day? Is our relationship just about the night for you?"

There. He said it. He knew what he was accusing Jiro of; he was accusing him of using Hisashi, of lying. It was a cruel thing to say, but Hisashi was hurt too deeply to care.

< Why does it have to be this way? > he thought in anguish. < Why can't we be happy, be open about our relationship? Why do we have to hide, why do I have to feel like you're ashamed of this...? >

The accusation cut deep, he saw it in Jiro's eyes. But again, the blonde, like Hisashi, used anger as a flashing shield. "Maybe it is," he said coldly. His words were angrily precise. "I used to love you, Tonomura, but now I'm not so sure."

"Get out of here," Hisashi snapped, as something in his heart snapped.

Jiro stiffened. "Fuck you."

It didn't take any more hurled words or piercing glances. With a frozen face and suddenly blank, cold eyes, Jiro whirled around and stalked out.

The door slammed behind him, leaving reverberating tremors in Hisashi's mind and heart.

*

Practice was long that day. It felt long when Hisashi and Jiro had to pretend to fight, but now - it was longer. Because Hisashi and Jiro were fighting for real this time, and it was worse than before. When Hisashi walked into practice that morning - not even going out of his way to be just barely late this time, although he was still the last one there - Jiro hadn't even glanced at him. His eyes were blank, cold, and almost lofty.

Hisashi didn't know if Takuro and Teru noticed the tension. Probably not, because it had been there - feigned - in the past. Hisashi didn't particularly care, however. He was still hurt and angry.

< I wish it could be different... >

He went through the chords mechanically, his mind was elsewhere.

< I can see it being different, even... I can see it being the way I want it to be. You and me, stealing a moment during breaks. Acting normal towards each other - not cold, sarcastic, and mean - and Teru and Takuro rolling their eyes
because we're a couple, not because we're enemies. >

When practice ended all four began to gather their things, packing up instruments and preparing to leave in silence. Hisashi was kneeling on the floor near his guitar case when he heard Teru speak.

"Ne, Jiro." His voice was casual, it was nothing, but Hisashi stopped, turned to look slightly over his shoulder.

"Want to get a drink with me?"

Hisashi's gaze flickered to Jiro. The bassist was near his bass stand - closer to Teru than Hisashi - and he turned slightly, enough so that he could see both Hisashi and Teru. He blinked at Teru first, and then his eyes slid to Hisashi,
and he saw the guitarist looking at him. Their exchange was wordless - Hisashi kept any emotion from his features, and Jiro's countenance was a mirror - and then Jiro lifted his chin slightly.

He turned to smile brightly, cutely, at Teru. "Sure, Tekko!"

Teru smiled back, and Hisashi turned away from the scene. Usually he and Jiro saw each other after practice - since they couldn't be together in practice, he thought with bitterness - but clearly they wouldn't that night. He told himself he didn't care as he heard Teru say "want to just follow me to the bar, in your car?"

"Hai," Jiro said, strangely deep voice still cheerful, masking the bitterness and harshness Hisashi had heard earlier.

"I'm leaving," Hisashi announced coolly as he straightened and turned around, pulling his coat on and grabbing his keys from his pocket. "Ja ne."

He strode to the door, not looking at any of his band members as he passed.

"Ja." This from Teru and Takuro both. Nothing from Jiro. Hisashi stepped into the bloody, sunset evening and let the door close behind him.

Only when he was alone in the parking lot did he let a wince of pain flicker across his features.

He wanted to be strong, to keep anger burning as long as Jiro. But he also wanted to be happy, and he couldn't help but begin to think. < Maybe... I should apologize. I don't want to ruin this because of a stupid fight. What we had is better than nothing... >

He knew Jiro wasn't using him. He couldn't believe that Jiro would do that. When Jiro said 'I love you', Hisashi wanted to believe he meant it, he did believe it.

"I'm just tired of hiding this," Hisashi murmured as he walked to his car, sighing, feeling the wind brush by and caress his face.

Still arguing with himself, he stepped into his car and drove off without a destination in mind.

*

Jiro stared down into his drink, trying to refrain from brooding. He was doing his best to act normal and cheerful to Teru, and he thought he was doing well. And he was having fun, to a certain extent. Teru was an entertaining person.

< And it's better than being alone, > he thought. < I certainly wouldn't have gone to see Hisashi tonight. >

Jiro glanced up as he heard the door open. He and Teru were in a bar that Glay often frequented, and the four of them had taken to using the back portion. It was smaller and a bit more secluded for a bar, and it kept them away from the
windows and possible sightings. At the moment, it was empty; only Jiro and Teru occupied one of the booths against the wall, as was the case half the time Jiro had been there in the past. Which made sense, really; if you wanted to go to a
bar, there wasn't much of a reason for most people to go to the back room.

The door opening and closing was only the waitress, coming to bring Teru another beer. She asked if they needed anything else but they waved her away.

"Ne, Jiro," Teru said after she left. Jiro raised his eyes to see Teru studying him thoughtfully. "Daijoubu?"

Jiro offered a small smile that was genuine because of Teru's concern. "Ah, hai, hai," he said.

Teru cocked his head slightly. "Are you sure? 'Cause you can talk to me about anything, you know."

"Eh... I guess I'm just a little down tonight," Jiro said evasively.

Teru took a drink, and then he said, quietly: "Because of Hisashi?"

Jiro froze, slowly moved his gaze that had idly strayed back to Teru. "N - Nani?" he asked, surprised. His fingers had tightened reflexively around the glass half-empty in front of him, his knuckles were white.

Teru merely shrugged in response. "Well, you know, you two just don't get along well... It bothers you, right?"

Jiro relaxed, repressed a sigh. "Oh. Yeah... Yeah, it does, I guess," he said, shifting somewhat uncomfortably. He didn't feel like talking about Hisahi right now, for more reasons than one.

"It's not fair, you know," Teru continued. "How he's so mean and cold to you... I really don't know why he's like that."

Jiro frowned slightly. "Has he ever said anything to you? I mean, you two are pretty good friends and all, right?"

Teru shrugged. "We used to be, but not so much recently. Either way, he never said anything about you."

Jiro sighed, and Teru continued.

"He's just jealous, you know." Jiro blinked at him. "He knows he'll never be as adorable and cute as you." Teru smiled and winked, and in spite of himself, Jiro laughed.

"Right," he said, rolling his eyes, "That's it."

Teru laughed and took a drink. As he was setting his glass down, however, it seemed to slip; or that's as near as Jiro could figure. Because the next moment it was crashing to the table.

Jiro yelped and with faster reflexes than he thought he possessed, scooted quickly to the side, near the wall, as the almost-full mug of beer sent its contents his way. It spilled onto the seat next to him.

"K'so!" Teru exclaimed. "I'm so sorry!"

Jiro chuckled, but kept one eye on the puddle, making sure it wasn't going to seep his direction. "No harm done. It's just on the seat. Although it does seem that I'm trapped in here," he noted wryly, one shoulder now up against the wall.

Teru stood. "I'll go get a towel. I'm really sorry," he repeated, running a hand through his hair and then wincing when he peered at the mess.

"Mou, don't worry...! And at least the mug didn't break."

Teru disappeared quickly, and Jiro sat there in silence, trapped in by the table, chair, wall, and a puddle of beer.

< Well... This, at least, makes my evening exciting to some extent, > he thought wryly. Before he could stop himself he thought: < I wonder where Hisashi is right now? >

Normally they'd be together. At a bar, at dinner, curled up together on a couch watching a movie...

Jiro released a sudden sigh of annoyance and frustration and forced those thoughts to flee.

< You're asking too much, Hisa. >

A pang of hurt followed as he recalled Hisashi's earlier words.

< Do you really think I've just been using you? To sleep with? I didn't think you could ever accuse me of that... >

He quickly covered that poignant ache with cold anger, and made sure no traces of his thoughts were on his face when Teru returned.

"Here," Teru said, striding over with a towel in his hand. Jiro set the glass upright, realizing it was still laying forlornly on its side, and Teru quickly and efficiently cleaned the vinyl of the booth seat. The towel was an ugly, dull brown when he was done, and he tossed it onto a nearby, empty tabletop.

"Doumo," Jiro said.

Teru offered a smile and then sat down again. But this time he sat next to Jiro. The bassist noted this fact with a wondering curiosity.

"But seriously, Jiro," Teru said, after a short moment of silence hovered between them. Teru's tone was strangely serious, and Jiro felt the beginning of nervousness manifest within. "You deserve better than to have Hisashi treat you
that way."

Jiro tried to shrug it off with a laugh, break the strange solemnity. "Eh, it's not a problem. He's always been like that, I've gotten used to it..."

Teru's handsome features remained intent. His eyes didn't leave Jiro's, the bassist bit his lip, uncertain, his attempted light chuckle falling hollow.

"You shouldn't have to 'get used to it'," Teru insisted softly. "Because you're good..."

His eyes were piercing, strangely alluring with that intense cast to them that Jiro had never seen before.

Jiro felt something on his leg; he tensed as realization snapped into him. Teru's hand was resting lightly on his thigh.

"...Teru...?" he said, almost stumbling over the other man's name.

"Because you're cheerful. You're talented..." He leaned closer to Jiro, and the blonde could only sit frozen, reflexively try to back up, but feel the wall a mere inch behind him, waiting. "You're kind... You're beautiful."

Inch swallowing inch; inches fading to centimeters. Distance rapidly disappearing.

Teru's warm, gentle lips touched his.

Jiro remained frozen and tense. He didn't move as Teru's lips pressed against his, soft and almost tentative. But then he quickly became bolder, when Jiro didn't push him away, and he tried to deepen the kiss.

He tasted good, surprisingly good. And before Jiro realized it he was responding, letting Teru kiss him, his body acting while his mind remained silently shocked.

It was then that the door opened, the soft click breaking the silence pervasively, the scrape of the door suddenly loud.

The kiss broke and simultaneously the two men looked up.

There, standing in the doorway, one hand on the knob of the fully open door, lips parted but no sound emerging, was Hisashi. His hair was somewhat disheveled, falling forward to almost cover one eye, and his eyes were wide.

No one spoke. Jiro stared at him in utter silence. Hisashi stared at them both, and Jiro saw a flash of surprise, followed by pain, followed by blankness.

He took one step back, another.

He faded out of the room.

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Jiro's thoughts finally tried to stumble coherently together.

< Hisashi... Hisashi saw us kissing. > The image of Hisashi's startled pain flickered across his sight.

"I... don't think he was expecting that," Teru commented, voice soft and ever so dry.

< No, no he wasn't... But he wasn't surprised like you think, Tekko. It's not because it's two of his band members kissing. It's because it's you and me... >

He realized, then, that Teru's hand was still on his thigh. The other man was still close, and his eyes had finally strayed from the door back to Jiro. That intensity was still there.

Jiro gazed back at him. The memory of Hisashi's anguish was fresh in his mind. But so was his anger. So was their fight that morning.

And so was the taste of the kiss.

< 'Get out of here.' >

< If you don't want me, Hisashi, fine. Someone else does... >

He didn't try to pull away or evade as Teru leaned forward again, clearly not going to be put off by the interruption. Their lips met once again, less hesitantly.

< I don't need you, Tono. > He clung to that anger that felt justified. It *was* justified.

He let his eyes slide closed. As Teru kissed him he let a pleasant buzz of non-thinking take over, which was supported by the alcohol. He wasn't drunk, he hadn't had much to drink, but he didn't have a high tolerance, either. And when the vocalist sought entrance, probed his tongue against Jiro's lips, the other man acquiesced with a pleasured sigh.

He reached up to touch the side of Teru's face, trailing his fingers over the smooth skin. Jiro was pressed back against the corner of the wall and the seatback now, Teru was pressed closer than before. The table was only a slight hindrance.

He slid his hand behind Teru's neck, kissing back more aggressively as he let the sensations of Teru's touch and taste tingle through him. He let the fingers of his hand toy with Teru's hair, playfully ran his fingers through the fine hair at the back of Teru's neck.

When Teru broke the kiss they were both breathless. Jiro's eyes flickered open, half-lidded but not seeing. Teru trailed kisses along his jaw line to his ear.

"I love your lips," he whispered, breath hot against Jiro's skin. "Like I always imagined... You taste so good..." A tongue flicked wetly against the lobe.

Jiro let his hand leave the back of Teru's neck, let it slide down his chest. They were both still breathless.

Teru placed kisses down the side of Jiro's neck, feather light and tantalizing. At the junction of neck and collarbone he focused his ministrations, and Jiro arched into it, letting his head fall back and his eyes slip closed again.

He felt the light scrape of teeth, and then he bit his lip, holding back a startled, soft cry, as Teru bit the pale flesh. A moment later the sharp pinprick of pain was replaced by warmth. Teru soothed the flesh with his tongue, sucked around the small bite.

Without moving his lips, he shifted. Jiro suddenly registered the movement of his hand. Warmly, slowly, he slid it higher, inward...

"Oohh," Jiro gasped, a moan escaping his lips. "T-"

Something stopped him before he could finish. Some part of him was remarkably aware, part of his mind wasn't giving in to his body or his anger.

It wasn't Teru's name that was about to leave his lips. It was Hisashi's. Tono.

But it wasn't Hisashi kissing him, touching him...

Jiro's eyes flickered open.

< Oh God... Wait... I have to stop this... >

"Teru," he said breathlessly, trying to cover his near-mistake. "Teru... Wait..."

Jiro did what he could to squirm away, and the other man drew back. Dusky eyes opened to meet Jiro's own.

"We can't do this..." He slipped his hand around Teru's, deftly pushing it away. Disappointment flashed in Teru's eyes as he sat further back.

Jiro offered a soft smile with bruised lips. "Gomen ne, Tekko... But... I - I have to go." A lame, pointless excuse.

But Teru seemed pacified with the smile, he understood that Jiro was uncomfortable, although he probably thought for a different reason. He couldn't know what the real problem was.

The vocalist slipped out of the booth, let Jiro slide out.

"I'll take care of the bill," Teru said, when Jiro was about to leave but paused suddenly, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

"Arigato," Jiro said, knowing he flushed slightly, the memory of Teru kissing him like that suddenly awkward. He turned away with a last, shy smile - a smile he couldn't begin to consider genuine as the ramifications of his actions slammed into him - and he left the room in silence, left Teru alone.

part 2