Fire

I can see it burning so brightly

Fire

I can feel it calling out to me

And as the sun goes down it starts to paint a picture

Of an ancient town so far away, across the endless sea

Lead me to the light,

And take me to the edge of heaven

I am standing in the night

And looking for the edge of heaven

We'll be touching the edge of heaven

Tired

Close your eyes see dreams of tomorrow

Tired

The weeks are turning to eternity

And as the darkness comes I start to see a picture

Of a lonely man so clearly now, reaching out for me

Lead me to the light

And take me to the edge of heaven

< The edge of heaven is here >

I am standing in the night

And looking for the edge of heaven

< Sail the endless sea >

We'll be touching the edge of heaven

*

The wedding was simply beautiful.

It was elegant and shimmering, flashing pure white in the golden sun. It was held outside in a park on the corner, which, although not large, had a distinctly screening effect. The buildings and noises of the city, in spite of the visibly soaring skyline on all sides, seemed indistinct, were distant and faded, pushed away for this singular event.

This was a stolen moment in time, a capsule of preserved memory, to forever preserve in memory. It was supposed to be that way. It was a wedding, a beginning. Weddings were precious, joyful. To the curious passers-by, it was all those things.

The sun was like a glittering, soft diamond, a diadem on the crown of the sky; the air was fresh and promising a new beginning; faces were smiling.

Deep, warm brown eyes flicked idly around the surroundings and the landscape, absorbing them, taking them in and remembering them with a wistful quality. He was seated in the front row, and he was the only one with that bend of air upon
him, that shimmering break in the pure joy of the atmosphere that gave way to concealed sorrow.

He was waiting. Everyone was waiting. It was that glittering moment that everyone anticipated. When the groom and then the bride would appear, when the service would proceed.

And then-the first tinkling of music, a soft whisper of melody teasing the air. It built, broke into a sweet tune that spread through the air to announce the impending approach of the groom.

He stepped forward into the aisle on cue, from behind the screening curtain at the back and into the sunlight, onto the beginning of the aisle.

In the crowd watching, one heart skipped a beat, one breath of air caught in a throat too tight.

< So perfect... >

No one paid attention to the one escorted at the groom's side. It could have been his mother or a stranger, it didn't matter. All eyes were upon him. He walked down the aisle and every action spoke of joy, every minute expression.

The single, shimmering emotion in his eyes that was not in place, that was not reflective of joy, was very well concealed. It was only in his darkly beautiful eyes, hidden deep enough that only a select few who cared to look deep enough would see it.

When he reached the end of the aisle and moved to turn around to await his bride, his ever-graceful, smooth movements faltered. It was only a flicker of his sight, a momentary pause, but it was there. That flicker passed through his eyes when he saw the man sitting in the front row.

< He came... >

Two pairs of eyes met, locked. Two gazes created of starry distance and with the depth of emotion, remembering, and forgetting upon them found each other in that moment. Eternities and universes passed between them, movement
around them ceased to matter, the music fell away, was drowned out by something deeper, something silent and potent between them, shared in that look.

Unspoken words danced on the edge of sight, regrets and reflections flashed upon them both. A crystal shell seemed to shimmer, hover, ready to protect them from the outside world if they would only step forward into it-

And then the groom looked away, because the music had begun and his bride had appeared. The crystal vision shattered.

All eyes turned to the figure clad in white, even the eyes of the man in the first row, now with a greater quality of sorrow. And when his eyes fell upon her, as he watched her approach, he couldn't look away.

She was beautiful, utterly beautiful. Radiant in the sunlight, in the pure white of the dress, a smile touching her lips and her eyes, eyes that were on her groom.

Murmurs swept the crowd.

"Gorgeous..."

< She's perfect for him... >

"Beautiful..."

< She can make him happy. >

She reached the end of the aisle, and then future man and wife stood next to each other, were together, smiling. In the front row, two seats down, someone murmured:

"They look perfect together."

< Perfect... >

The ceremony began.

"We are gathered here today..."

As the gentle voice drifted into the air, hearts were lifted, soft smiles broke onto the watching countenances.

Only one soul was trembling, one heart was aching, breaking. One smile was very small, faint, and it was wistful, regretful, bitterly resigned.

One man's thoughts centered upon memories and dreams, upon indecision. On a choice, something that could still be changed, that was slipping away. On the past, on things locked deep within himself.

How long did he have until they could never be expressed, until those words could never be spoken? His chance was slipping away, pearl-like water slipping through his shaking grasp. Did he have the strength to close that hand?

His eyes reflected these questions, his heart murmured them. That small smile spoke softly of the impending answer.

Words drifted, settled, weaved, and prepared to be binding. The atmosphere was perfect, happy. And then it came time to exchanged vows.

The bride and groom turned to face one another, faces masks of joy. The bride's eyes flashed across her friends, her family, those she faced over her husband-to-be's shoulder.

His eyes cast across the crowd on the other side. Saw friends, band mates. That silent figure in the first row...

They began. Her voice was like silk, was preciously expressive. Dark eyes met hers as she spoke; she gazed back at him lovingly.

And then the groom's smooth voice was breaking the stillness, was soothing and calm and desperately beloved, held closely within one aching heart.

But there was distraction upon his eyes. It was fleeting and hidden-one not looking, not watching and lost in his depthless eyes, not attuned to him as closely as two souls can be, would not have seen it.

But as he spoke, as he made those eloquent promises, there was a waver of his gaze. It could be noted that upon every deep word, with every syllable uttered that was true and meaningful and that made his voice catch, almost break-his eyes were not meeting hers.

"...always..."

A glance

"...devotion..."

thrown secretly,

"...faithful..."

desperately, and wistfully,

"...love..."

to that figure meeting his eyes,

"...forever..."

sitting in the first row.

Under the weave of the sky, beneath the surface of joy and the magic of a supposedly holy union, two hearts were crying out.

The breeze was soft, it was light and gentle like the brush of fingertips upon his face. He watched the proceedings with emotion gathered beneath the surface, with hands that trembled and that he kept hidden.

The exchange of rings... The final vows, promises... And finally...

That fateful comment, moment, those soaring words that never expected an answer. Not when such beauty and perfection stood at the altar...

"If there are any present that can give a reason that these two should not be wed-speak now, or forever hold your peace."

< Speak now... >

< Speak... >

< or forever hold your peace >

< or forever... hold my peace... >

Gentle silence, soaring silence. A soft blessing from the sky, that gemmed sun, that sweet breeze...

He was the first to begin crying, that man in the front row with that deeply wistful and anguished cascade upon his gaze. The tears spilled from his eyes and down his cheeks in a silent stream, burning, hot, and gleaming silver in the sunlight.

Others had tears of happiness pooling in their eyes, but those precious tears, tears like crystal, like glass, like pearls, were the first to fall.

Bridge and groom kissed. The union was complete.

He was the first to begin crying, but soon other tears joined his. Joyful drops of celebration, sparkling in appearance, only different from his in taste. But his tears would go unnoted, they would fall into the pool and gather there with the others, eyes upon him would see them only as more tears of joy.

Only one gaze would see those tears and see words falling with them. Only one gaze would see them streaming and see the last minute hope of a dream, wisp of a memory, fading away.

He was the first to begin crying. And when it was all over, when he would go home that night after the celebration white under the sun, golden under the sunset, and when he would be alone with the stars and the pale, forgiving moon, his would be the last tears to stop falling, his would be the face that would be covered with shadow and then, when the sun rose, with that shimmering mask. But his soul would never stop weeping.

** Owari **

Author's Comments: And thus it ends. I'd like to thank all of you who read this series, first of all; it was something of a struggle, methinks... Really went up and down, in a way. By that I mean it was not consistent - parts one and two sort of stuck together, had a similar style; then there was three, four, and five; then there was six, an entirely differently, story-telling style on it's own, sort of leading up to the end; and finally, the epilogue, a last style that I've never tried before.

About the epilogue... There were a few ways I could have done this, most notably, instead of writing it as a third-person observer with a few, candid views of thoughts and a bit more insight than a normal observer might have, I
could have done Jiro's POV. Only problem there is I think there would have been too much emotion... I just thought it seemed more *right* that we should view this last scene as a third-person, and stay mostly our of Jiro's thoughts
(although the thinking was done by both of them in this, you'll note). It created an effect that, although I cannot name it, I wanted it. ^^;;;

Some motifs in this... Most poignantly I focused on the subject of strength vs. weakness, in various ways - what one needs to be strong for, weak for, the views of a person's own strength and weakness, what one sees as strength another might see as weakness. And second was the concept of homosexuality, obviously. It was interesting to try and make this believable with that concept in mind. I'm not sure if I succeeded.

Finally I focused on the theme of action versus thought, what one is thinking and planning and feeling versus what one is saying. In this you'll notice that the actions tended to speak for themselves, and the opposite of the words tended to be the true meaning, thus enforcing it (the most notable example of this is Jiro saying "I don't love you, Hisa. I don't." ; That's a very profound moment to me, one I planned for a while, and it's very clear in my mind the way he looks as he is saying this, the way he is feeling and the way his voice is sounding.

And lastly, yes, there were Christian references in this. I seriously doubt Hisashi and Izumi got married the way I depicted, but I'm aware of it and truly don't care. What served my purposes best is the wedding I depicted, and I hope
it didn't ruin the affect for anyone. There were also some religious references, such as an allusion to a prayer of confession for forgiveness, as well as the general struggle that Jiro had with homosexuality.

Okay, and I'm done rambling. Nice long author's notes, ne? I doubt anyone really reads these, but they are things that I just have to say, that I feel need to be put out there whether anyone cares about them or not. So if you truly *did* read this far - thank you! *Glomps*

Your Devoted Writer,

NightMajik

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