Experience Pearls

Give me all your tears

Let me turn them into pearls

Let me turn all the tears

that you have cried into pearls

Hand them over to me - I'm gonna keep,

keep them for you.

I want to hold you,

I want to kiss you.

I want to mend what is broken.

Love me the way that you loved her - please

Cause now I'm giving it all -

And so I've made up my mind - I'm gonna be

yours this time - I'm gonna give what I've got,

and get your love in return.

And so I've made up my mind - I'm gonna be

yours this time - I'm gonna teach you to trust

and learn how to burn -

Experience pearls

Pearls of experience

When sand strikes up in your eyes

I will cover your face.

I'll plant your desert with roses,

and I'm gonna keep, keep them for you.

And so I've made up my mind...

I'll wear your pearls more precious than silver

I'll wear your pearls so close to my skin.

I'd tear myself apart just to get you -

And so I've made up my mind...

And so I've made up my mind...

*

His face was empty when he told them the news. Sculpted, smooth features were stoically blank, his voice bordered carefully on apathy. His words and mien were distant, but his stance and eyes spoke of fragility.

Takuro and Teru heard the words that he spoke, they didn't seem to look or hear beyond them. But Jiro heard the implications, saw the glassy flash of tears.

There was a moment of long silence. Then:

"A... divorce?" Teru repeated dumbly, after Hisashi's clipped announcement ended. Jiro's eyes flicked to Teru at the abrupt sound of his voice, and then quickly returned to Hisashi, in time to perceive a faint wince, angry and painful, cross Hisashi's face, perceptible only because Jiro was looking for it.

"Hai..." Calm, cold.

Takuro frowned in worry and perplexion. "But... you were so happy..."

< Stop now, Takkun, > Jiro thought, biting his lip. < Hisashi's obviously not the instigator of this, he didn't ask for a divorce... >

"After hearing you talk about her, seeing you two together..."

Pain flashed in Hisashi's eyes, perhaps Takuro's words echoed his own painful thoughts.

It was clear that Teru and Takuro wanted to press the issue. And it was clear, to Jiro, that Hisashi was hurting, wanted to get away.

So with a flick of his wrist, Jiro sent the glass of water, resting on the table nearby, to the floor.

Words disappeared in the shatter of glass. Three pairs of eyes leapt to Jiro, startled, and the moment when all attention was fixed on Hisashi and his imminent divorce was broken.

"Gomen!" The blonde exclaimed, forcing a façade of chagrined embarrassment to his face. "It slipped..."

Teru and Takuro shook their heads at his apparent carelessness and lack of tact, chided him gently, and then followed Jiro's example, dropping to their knees to help pick up the larger pieces of the ruined glass, attention and eyes momentarily drawn from Hisashi.

The tension in the air broke with the glass, and the blue-head, seeing his chance for escape, left. Jiro watched covertly from beneath lowered lashes as the slender guitarist fairly fled, fading into the shadows of the door before disappearing.

< Hisashi... >

"I'll come back to help in a minute," Jiro announced suddenly. He sat back, hiding the palm of one hand in the fingers of his other. "I must've cut myself when I knocked it over," he lied, already rising.

Teru fixed him with a concerned gaze. "Jiro, let me see," he began. But Jiro was already walking away, moving with rapid, graceful steps to the door.

"No, daijoubu," he insisted, softening his abrupt departure with a quick smile over his shoulder. He didn't wait for a response as he slipped out the door.

Hisashi wasn't out in the hall of the practice studio. Jiro didn't expect him to be. Releasing his feigned injury, ignoring the apprehension he felt, focusing instead on his concern for Hisashi, he walked down the hall and stepped into the blue-grey morning.

Hisashi was sitting on the steps, near the left side, smoking. The pavement was gray, the air silver. The sky was steel, Hisashi's hair blue. A watercolor, melancholy scene greeted Jiro, and his footfalls fell deaf on heavy, still air.

When Jiro stepped outside Hisashi didn't even turn around.

"I know what you're going to say."

His voice floated over his shoulder, empty.

Jiro bit his lip, let the door close with a soft click, and remained where he was.

" 'I told you so.' " Hisashi continued, now with a touch of acridity. "Well I don't wanna hear it."

"No!" Jiro exclaimed softly, immediately, eyebrows knitting. < I told you so? Do you think I'm so cruel...? >

"No... Hisa... That's not what I'm here to say. It's not even what I'm thinking."

Hisashi graced him finally with a half-glance, turning his head slightly and flicking his dark eyes to Jiro's.

He didn't say anything; neither invited further conversation nor seemed inclined - yet - to ask Jiro to leave.

Jiro continued, stepping forward and sinking down on the steps. He sat next to Hisashi, but left a few good inches of space between them, ignoring his impulse to sit closer.

"I just... I wanted to talk to you," he said, hesitating slightly, voice gentle. He faced forward, toward the empty street, but watched Hisashi with flickered glances. "Because... I don't think the others understand."

Hisashi paused with his cigarette raised to his lips, favored Jiro with another short glance. "And you do?" he asked softly, bitterly.

Jiro sighed, twisting his hands together absently, gaze drifting. "Maybe I don't. But... I think - maybe I can understand more than them. Because... I know how much you loved - love - her."

< And they don't care about you the way I care. And it doesn't hurt them like it hurts me to know that you *do* love her... >

"And... I can see this is hurting you, and you don't have to be strong in front of me."

Hisashi never looked at Jiro while he spoke, his voice softly faltering. The guitarist stared at the empty streets. His figure was rigid, jaw tight. He was holding hard to his composure, and Jiro knew he couldn't hold much longer.

"Yes..." A whisper.

Jiro frowned. "Nani ga?"

"...I do."

The blonde studied him, anxious, fretting.

< You have to be strong...? Is that what you mean? >

Hisashi flicked the cigarette away, took a long breath, and released it slowly.

< But you don't... >

"Jiro," Hisashi finally said, "I appreciate you're trying to help, but... You can't understand what I feel."

The words were a sure dismissal, given almost coolly as Hisashi tried to retract further into himself.

But Jiro only frowned, and didn't prepare to stand and take his leave. Hisashi couldn't bid him leave that easily. "I *can't* understand?" he retorted.

Hisashi looked at him then, finally shifted his lithe body slightly so that he could look at Jiro fully. "No," he replied stoically. "She's leaving me, and I... I still love her. But - she's leaving..."

His voice almost broke.

Jiro softened his tone, but did not back down. "Hisa... I haven't been through something like this, a divorce. But... you can't accuse me of anything. Don't lie to yourself or to me. I know how it feels to be rejected. To not be with the person I want."

He dropped his eyes, unable to help it as they drifted away, as he flushed ever so slightly. "And I know you know that."

He hadn't come outside with the intention of speaking so directly. He hadn't come to say anything at all, not about himself and Hisashi, about 'them'. But what was said was said, and he was surprised that his voice was steady, even if his gaze was not.

Hisashi shifted uncomfortably, his eyes danced away.

"That's... in the past..." he murmured.

"This isn't about the past," Jiro countered immediately, gaze flicking back, finding strength in Hisashi's discomfort.

"Yes it is!" Hisashi returned, cutting him off before he could continue. The other man's patience was obviously gone, his emotions were high-strung. "Dammit, Jiro, what you're saying - you talk about the past like it's yesterday, like the things that happened, that were said, were only moments ago. But they're not, things have changed, and - and right now..."

He faltered, and his words trailed off.

< Oh, Hisa... > Jiro studied him with a mixture of passion and anguish, frustration and hurt. < All I want is to comfort you. All I want... >

"And right now it's the last thing you want to hear," Jiro concluded for him softly. "Because you have too much to think about already."

A long silence. Then: "Aa..." Hisashi agreed.

Jiro sighed, and then moved a little closer, doing so almost absently. Hisashi stiffened. "But... the past is closer than you think," he told him softly. "You said things have changed..."

"... Jiro-" Hisashi didn't move away from Jiro, even when they were close enough, almost touching, to the point that a wave of body heat was shared, but he shrank backward. He visibly retreated, into his self, behind the dark mask of his eyes.

Jiro continued softly, relentlessly. "... And maybe *you* have. I mean, you got married. But things are changing again. You're getting a divorce. And I-"

"Don't," Hisashi whispered, looking at Jiro earnestly. Pleading.

"I haven't changed."

Hisashi faced Jiro partially now, his body was half turned, one shoulder pressed against the wall of the concrete railing in his reactionary retreat. Jiro wished he was strong enough to keep looking at HIsashi, but he wasn't, he knew he wasn't. His gaze was elusive as he spoke; as much as he could say the words, he couldn't hold a steady gaze.

He leaned forward, rested his forehead suddenly, gently, against Hisashi's shoulder. His eyes were closed as he released a long, soft breath.

"I still have feelings for you."

He stayed like that, forehead resting against the blue material of Hisashi's sweatshirt, feeling the warmth inspired by Hisashi's own body heat. He also felt the stiffness, the rigidness, of Hisashi's muscles, of his stance.

< Forgive me, Hisa, > he thought. < Maybe... maybe this is the worst thing I can do right now, but... >

A tremor caught his attention, passed through Hisashi's frame.

"Damn you, Jiro..." His voice was husky, low.

Jiro bit his lip, drew away, and opened his eyes to see Hisashi's eyes on him, accusatory, scared, and desperate.

"Hisa..."

Hisashi pushed roughly to a stand, breaking finally away from Jiro's proximity. The shine of tears reflected in his depthless eyes that fled Jiro's, that immediately broke their gaze.

< Hisa... > Jiro's thoughts repeated. He had nothing he could say when Hisashi rose, when he looked at him with that gaze.

Jiro could only watch, calling himself weak, stupid, and helpless, calling Hisashi silently back, as Hisahi fled into a blue-grey morning.

*

"Daijoubu?"

Jiro blinked, focusing on the inquisitive figure kneeling on the floor. Teru looked back at him with concern shading his features.

"Nani?" Jiro asked.

"Your hand..." The vocalist frowned, studied him.

Jiro cursed mentally. "Oh. Right. Ne, don't worry about it, it's not as bad as I thought." Halfheartedly, he clutched one hand in the other.

Teru continued to frown and appeared speculative, and he pushed himself to his feet. His mouth was open to speak when Takuro returned, a broom and dustpan in tow.

"Oh, Jiro," he said upon entering, "you're back. Are you alright?"

Jiro opened his mouth to lie once more.

"He's fine," Teru slipped in smoothly, before Jiro had a chance to speak. "He didn't *actually* injure himself, you see," Teru confided conversationally, casting Jiro a pointed glance. "He was just talking to - or maybe just looking for - Hisashi. Ne, Jiro-chan?"

Jiro flushed slightly, and released the uninjured hand. "A... Aa..." He admitted. "And... I don't think he'll be coming back for a while," he added quietly, gaze elusive.

Takuro didn't comment, only heaved asigh, and set to cleaning up the smaller bits of glass, seemingly resigned. Teru watched Jiro critically.

"What do you mean?" the vocalist demanded.

"He ran off, down the street," Jiro explained half-heartedly.

< I don't feel like talking, Teru, > he thought, suppressing a sigh. < I scared him away, I said things that I really shouldn't have said right now, that maybe I shouldn't have a right to say at all... >

"Naze?" Teru demanded, unmindful of Jiro's weary, pleading thoughts.

"Because he's upset," Jiro replied, not meeting Teru's gaze. He walked over to the couch that was pushed against the far wall, dropping onto it with a sigh.

"About what?" Teru pressed determinedly.

< You suspect something, don't you? > Jiro asked silently. < But I doubt you know the half of it... >

"His divorce," he replied, a bit too harshly.

< His divorce, and me, 'us'... K'so... Just leave me alone, Teru. >

Jiro was lying on his back on the couch, one leg hanging over the side, loosely brushing the ground. He flung one arm over his eyes.

Teru took the hint and left him alone then. The other man was only concerned, he only wanted to help, but he couldn't. There wasn't time enough for Jiro to explain everything, and he didn't want to anyway - it was painful enough knowing himself how he felt, what had happened in the past. It would be much harder, more painful, to say it out loud.

Jiro listened as Teru retreated, his steps a gentle whisper on the floor. There was a rustling as he knelt to help Takuro finish cleaning up, the scratch of the broom as it swept up motes of crystal. A gentle tinkle of glass sometimes made the air shiver.

< I'm sorry, Hisashi... >

Takuro and Teru exchanged words in mere whispers -

< ... It's not like I ever wanted this to happen to you, for you to be so upset, so hurt by her. But I didn't want you to fall in love with her, either. And... You shouldn't hurt so much. Because - I'm here for you. Don't you see that...? Would it be so hard to let me close to you...? >

- their voices distant velvet that never touched Jiro's far off, wandering thoughts.

< Let me help you, Hisa. Let me love you... >

*

The walls of his dreams were a translucent mist. Jiro drifted in and out of memory and mist, his thoughts and recollections presenting themselves in dreams of the past...

<<<

Tomorrow. It was tomorrow. In a single day, a mere twenty four hours, everything would be different.

Tomorrow was Hisashi's wedding day.

There were a lot of stages in the past where things were rough between Hisashi and Jiro. Their entire time of knowing each other was a roller coaster of up's and downs.

Jiro didn't know who's fault it was. Probably his. Because he made the first move.

The first time they met...

Perhaps that's when it started. Jiro was immediately attracted to the other man. He thought it was just a crush, a passing phase. After all, most such things are.

But instead of moving on, of seeing the outside beauty of Hisashi and being attracted to it and then getting over it, he began to look deeper. He didn't so much understand Hisashi as *want* to understand him. He saw kindness and gentleness behind an aloof façade. He saw loneliness.

A deeper searching replaced infatuation. Infatuation seemed to manifest itself as real emotion. And when Jiro found out that Hisashi was bi, he couldn't resist. So he kissed Hisashi and tried to say what he felt.

He didn't say 'I love you'. No, it had not come to that. You don't admit love to someone who is an emotional stranger to you, it doesn't work that way, and Jiro wasn't that foolish. But he said that he had feelings for him, of some sort, and he just had to tell him because he didn't want to have any regrets.

Hisashi's response had been simple. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to react, and he had somewhere to be - so he left. Jiro had later reflected that he had no room to complain - make an honest confession, expect an honest answer.

For a few weeks things were tense between them. Neither really knew what to say or do around the other. Then Hisashi finally approached Jiro - and he apologized. He apologized for the way he had been acting, and he was so reluctant and unsure of himself that Jiro immediately found it endearing.

Then they decided to go out. It wasn't really official, that first date. Teru, Takuro, Jiro, and Hisashi went to get drinks on a Friday night after practice. Teru and Takuro couldn't stay long, so Jiro and Hisashi were left alone. They talked, they drank, and then as they were mutually preparing to leave, Hisashi asked if he could walk Jiro home. His car was at Jiro's,
because Jiro's place was near the bar, so the four of them had driven there after practice, and they had unloaded their stuff at Jiro's - they needed to store it at one of their houses because the studio was being revamped over the weekend and early into the week, so Jiro had offered - and had all walked to the bar.

Jiro accepted, let Hisashi walk him home, and then after a shy moment on hisfront doorstep, Hisashi had leaned forward, kissed him, and then said goodnight and walked away. They went out a few more times after that, and things were going pretty well - at first.

But then Teru almost found out. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Teru almost discovered their secret. After that, Hisashi broke it off. They had a long talk, and decided that it was too risky. It might hurt the band, it wasn't clear how their band members and society would react, and what if they ended badly? That would just be stress on themselves and Glay.

So they agreed to break up. Jiro pretended to take it as well as Hisashi, but privately he lamented their separation. It hurt.

Every so often, after that, there were some moments between them. A shared glance, a few exchanged words, some fanservice that Jiro knew to be more than just for the fans. He couldn't allow himself to take it seriously, but he also couldn't ignore that it had to be an indication of something. That Hisashi still thought about him, that maybe Hisashi regretted that they couldn't be together.

And then everything went to hell. Because Hisashi decided to get married.

And that wedding day was tomorrow. When Jiro first heard the news he didn't know how to react. Later he felt betrayed, hurt - all to a greater extent then he realized. It wasn't just a dull pain that took hold of him. It was a cold ache that gripped his heart.

He had fallen so much further than he thought. Or maybe he had known all along, but managed to erase the knowledge from his consciousness.

At first, he didn't say anything. Although Hisashi must have known that Jiro took it hard, because of the way he acted around him after that. Perhaps he had even seen Jiro crying, that first day. After Hisashi told his bandmates the 'happy' news after practice, Jiro had purposefully gathered his things slowly, until everyone was gone. His thoughts were rampant with the implications of Hisashi's marriage, and his heart ached. He couldn't stop the tears, so he let them flow, and he was lost enough in his own sorrow and memories that Hisashi could have returned and seen him like that for all he knew.

Either way, their situation degenerated. Hisashi responded to Jiro's obvious sorrow with hostility, and tension increased. Teru and Takuro noticed, but they couldn't figure out what to attribute the tension in Glay to. Only Hisashi and Jiro knew, and of them, only Jiro knew how deep it went.

He didn't know what to do. As the dreaded day approached he felt desperation grow. Hisashi's wedding would be a final end to any hope Jiro had for himself and Hisashi, and he didn't want that to happen. He had to do something, say something.

Tomorrow was Hisashi's wedding day. Tonight Jiro sat staring at his phone.

He didn't know how long he contemplated the dull, plastic surface before he finally found the courage to pick it up and call.

There were three rings before Hisashi picked up.

"Moshi moshi?" He sounded tired, but alone.

< At least he's not with Her. >

"Hey Hisa. It's Jiro," he said softly.

A pause. Then, reluctantly: "Jiro. Hi. Is everything okay?"

Instead of answering, Jiro said: "I was wondering if I could see you."

Another pause, a longer one. Then: "Alright. I'll expect you soon."

"Doumo."

The line went dead, and Jiro slowly set down the phone. Ten minutes later, after passing through the streets of a dream-like quality, he was knocking on Hisashi's door. His knock sounded hollow and empty.

Silence. Then footsteps. Then a click and the door opened.

Hisashi stood there, silhouetted by the light behind him, which illuminated his frame as if to produce a dim, shimmering halo. Golden light glanced off of soft, deep blue strands, and the depthless eyes that were dark pools that drank in the light and captured it within were guarded. Lovely, delicate features were emotionless.

"Konbon wa," Hisashi greeted, voice quiet. He seemed to hesitate before remaining silent. He didn't invite Jiro in. The blonde wondered if it was better that way.

"Konbon wa," he returned, half-heartedly.

An awkward silence as the wind picked up, whispered between them. Jiro bit his lip.

"Listen, I'm really tired, I have a big day tomorrow, so-"

"Don't do it," Jiro whispered. He didn't speak strongly or loudly, but his voice cut Hisashi off as sure as a shout.

". Jiro-"

"Please, Hisashi," Jiro said softly. "You can't - you can't marry her." His eyes were pleading and he felt them sting with unshed tears.

"Can't?" Hisashi returned coldly, chill undermined by the uncertainty hovering in his gaze.

Jiro opened his mouth, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say that might make sense, that might change Hisashi's mind.

"Who has the right to stop me?" Hisashi demanded, seeming to gain a bit of strength in his conviction. "I love her, Jiro." He paused, then, as if to give Jiro another chance to say something, to say who had the right to stop him. Jiro wanted to speak. But he couldn't. Because - he didn't have the right...

"I have to go, Jiro," Hisashi told him, cold once again, eyes glinting in the pale moonlight.

"Please," Jiro repeated brokenly, resorting pathetically to that single imploration. He was ashamed to feel a tear escape, slide down his cheek.

"Goodnight."

The door was closing.

"Hisa." A mere whisper, tremulous.

The door closed. >>>

part 2