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...

*

"Hisashi, wait!"

Teru dashed out into the parking lot after an indecisive moment of hesitation in the tense, wondering silence of the studio. It was Thursday, and practice had been the same as Wednesday - non-existent.

Because neither Teru nor Takuro had heard from Jiro, they assumed that he would be there the next day, having no reason to believe otherwise. He did not show up, however, and this time Takuro tried calling him at home, but again, there
was no response. It was at this point that their leader, expressing concern, suggested possibly stopping by Jiro's house to see if he was okay. But Hisashi seemed to disagree, saying merely "he's not going to want to see anyone" and
then, once again, striding to the door.

Teru had watched him leave in a silence that was both irritated and concerned, and then finally he decided to follow, determined to get some answers.

At hearing Teru's voice ring across the parking lot, Hisashi, who was nearing his car, replied. "Go away, Teru," he called over his shoulder. He never stopped walking.

Teru's response was merely to pick up his pace, almost running. He caught up with Hisashi as he was about to close his car door. Teru stopped him.

"Dammit!" he exclaimed harshly. "Whatever the hell is going on, Glay deserves to know."

The guitarist glanced up at him, and Teru was prepared to see irritated and cold haughtiness reflected in his gaze. Much to his surprise, however, he saw a deep, black weariness, and behind the film of irritation was - depression? Stress? Sorrow? Teru couldn't tell.

< He doesn't look like he has slept well, > he mused silently.

When Hisashi looked back at him with his eyes like that, Teru softened his voice. "We've been friends for a lot time, Hisashi," he said quietly. "When has something happened that you can't tell me?"

Hisashi looked away. "Yeah, well... Circumstances change things," he muttered elusively.

Teru frowned. "What's wrong with Jiro?"

"Nothing."

"Is he ill?" < But... Why would Hisashi hide that? > he responded to himself instantly, anticipating the answer.

He received it. "No."

"Is he hurt?"

Hisashi sighed. "Ask him yourself," he said, moving to turn on the engine.

< I can't even get a hold of him. How the hell am I supposed to ask him myself?> Frustrated, he echoed Hisashi's sigh, running a hand through his hair.

"How is your wife involved?"

"She just is."

"Dammit, Hisashi!" he snapped, anger exploding again. He hated being ignored when he felt he deserved to know what was going on. "Listen to me-"

"Mind your own goddamn business," Hisashi shot back, cutting Teru off before he could begin. The single, quick glance he cast Teru was flashing, and against his will Teru let go of Hisashi's door, taken aback by the intensity of his gaze.

Coldly satisfied, Hisashi reached out and with a sharp motion closed the door. Not bothering to cast Teru a second glance, he pulled out and was gone.

Teru stared after him, breathing the gentle, chill wind in and out in a long sigh.

< It's not like I'm just trying to pry. This isn't just because I want to know what's going on... >

< And it's not just because of Glay, either... >

< I care, Hisashi. I care about Glay, and I care about you and Jiro. You shouldn't keep this from me because this will hurt Glay, and you shouldn't keep this from me because maybe I can help you two. Somehow. We're supposed to be friends, Hisa... >

"Oi."

Teru jumped, turning to blink over his shoulder. Takuro was standing a few feet behind him, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes contemplative.

"What's going on?" the other guitarist demanded quietly. The wind swept by once again, pulling gently at both of their bangs.

"I wish I knew."

< I wish someone would tell me. >

Takuro studied him in silence. "Then - what do *you* think is going on?"

Teru tiled his head back to stare blankly at the sky. "I... don't know. Something isn't right, but - I can't figure out what. Jiro's not sick, according to Hisashi. But Hisashi's not exactly himself at the moment either."

"I've noticed," Takuro muttered. Teru straightened and exchanged a long glance with Takuro, asking questions with his eyes. "I know," Takuro finally murmured, in response to what was unsaid as the wind and the traffic were the only sounds
around them. "I don't know what's going on either, and it worries me, but... What can we do?"

< I refuse to sit around and do nothing. >

"I'm calling Jiro," he announced. "I'm gonna go home and keep calling until he picks up." That didn't guarantee anything, of course, because there was the chance that Jiro wasn't just not answering his phone, but he wasn't *there*,
but Teru refused to acknowledge that. He decided to assume Jiro was home for the moment.

In response Takuro gave him a small smile and merely tossed him his keys. "I locked up already," he told the vocalist.

"Arigato," Teru replied with a grateful smile.

"Good luck with Jiro, let me know what happens, alright?"

"Aa. Ja ne, Takkun." Teru was already turning to leave as he bid Glay's leader goodbye with a wave of one hand over his shoulder.

< Jiro... Will you tell me anything...? >

*

It was on the third ring of the fifth call that Jiro finally picked up.

"Teru... Hi."

"Jiro!" he exclaimed, sitting up abruptly on his couch, knocking a pillow to the floor. "You're answering...!"

"I was getting tired of listening to the answering machine... Ah, sorry I was ignoring you."

< He sounds... different, > Teru thought, eyebrows drawing down. < He doesn't sound like the Jiro that I know. >

"It's alright," he said immediately. "What's going on?"

"....What do you mean?" His voice had a listless quality to it.

Teru frowned. "You haven't been at practice," he replied. "And you haven't contacted any of us. < Or if you've talked to Hisashi, Takuro and I don't know about it. But I doubt you have.... Whatever's going on, you two don't seem to be on the same side. >

"Oh. Yeah... Sorry," he apologized, sounding wearily sincere. "I would've been there, but.... I just couldn't make it."

"Are you okay?" Teru demanded worriedly. "We're concerned about you. Are you sick?"

"No."

"Aa... That's what Hisashi said too, but I still wanted to ask..."

There was a long pause. "Hisashi said," Jiro murmured softly.

Teru stared hard at the wall, not seeing it. "Jiro?" he inquired quietly.

"Gomen." The bassist apologized again. "Listen, Teru, I'll be there tomorrow. Alright...?"

Tomorrow was Friday. Teru nodded before remembering to speak. "That's fine. But Jiro - that doesn't matter. I mean... We're worried about you, not that you haven't been at practice. Is everything okay?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" Jiro's voice was faint, a whisper. Wistfully, brokenly filled with sorrow.

Teru sighed. "Right, okay. But.... You know you can talk to me, ne, Jiro?"

"Hai... Arigato, Teru-kun. I'll see you tomorrow." Before waiting for Teru to bid him goodbye, he hung up.

Teru set the phone down and, after a moment of thought, found himself to be as frustrated as he was before. He was glad he had gotten in touch with Jiro, that assuaged a part of the anxiety, but - he still had no idea what was going on. He had originally intended to demand answers from Jiro when he got a hold of him, but he didn't have the heart because of the way Jiro sounded. Upset. Tired. Lost.

"Damn," he commented, speaking to the empty room. He had another long day of wondering ahead of him. < I wonder if Jiro will seem any better at practice tomorrow? Or Hisashi, for that matter? I just hope everything ends up alright... >

Sighing to himself - he seemed to be doing that a lot lately - he reached for the phone again and dialed Takuro's number.

*

The wind was bitterly cold and Jiro fairly ran from his front door to his car. Once inside he breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to leave the wind, but still shivering from the cold. Turning on the heat as soon as the car started, he drove to the studio and found himself able to concentrate solely on warming up.

When he pulled into the familiar, gray parking lot, however, his neutrality failed him and thoughts returned. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect, what to do. What should he tell Takuro and Teru? He felt bad for ignoring them, not even calling to say he wouldn't be at practice, but somehow he just couldn't. It seemed a pointless effort to make, he didn't *care* enough.

The past few days a variety of emotions had battered him. All were negative. Regret, pain, sorrow, anger. Rejection, apprehension, guilt, resentment.

And now here he was, sitting in the parking lot. Ready to face Teru and Takuro. Probably ready to lie to them.

Ready to see Hisashi.

No. 'Ready' was the wrong word. He didn't want to see him. Part of him did, an aching, yearning part that wanted to see him so Hisashi could say everything right and it would somehow all be better. But the rational, jaded, and hopelessly correct part of him knew that that wasn't what would happen.

"Not that I know what *will* happen, but still..."

He didn't want to see him. But - this was practice. This was Glay. And right now, it was all he had, and it was the only joyful thing he could hold onto.

He liked to pretend he was calm as he sat there in his car, as he finally got out and walked to the studio. He liked to pretend he would ignore Hisashi, he would smile at the others, and this would be a bad dream and he would wake up
if he tried hard enough.

He liked to pretend because it was a hard surface to cover the trembling and broken shards beneath. Because he didn't know what else to do.

Breathing in a deep breath and releasing it in a sigh that he refused to acknowledge as shaky, he crossed the parking lot and went inside.

He hesitated once he stepped inside and the door closed behind him, halting when two pairs of eyes jumped to him.

"Jiro!" Takuro exclaimed.

"You're here!" Teru said at the same time. They both peered at him with a mixture of eagerness and concern. They were both smiling.

"Moou.. You didn't believe me when I said I'd be here, Teru?" he said, pouting at them, feeling a small but genuine smile want to curve his lips at their warm reception, at the genuine welcome reflected in their eyes.

"Anou," he continued hesitantly, before either had a chance to say anything. "Listen, I just want to apologize again... For not calling or anything." He flushed slightly, still feeling guilty, but Teru quickly jumped in.

"Don't worry about it, Jiro. As long as you're here and you're alive." Takuro nodded enthusiastically, and Jiro, sighing with relief, shrugged out of his coat and walked over to his bass.

It was obvious in the way they acted that Teru and Takuro wanted to approach him to find out what was going on, but they didn't. He could imagine that Hisashi had said very little, and whatever he might have said about the situation was probably cryptic.

As he ran his finger lovingly along his bass, preparing to tune it, he bit his lip. He could only push back the memories and thoughts for a few mere minutes before they came rushing back.

< God... What's going to happen when he gets here? I don't... I don't want to see him. Because I don't know what I'll do, what he'll do... >

Resigned, he picked up his bass.

Ten minutes passed, and Hisashi was officially running late. Teru and Takuro were beginning to get restless, whereas Jiro was already restless, but doing his best to pretend not to care.

< Pretending... >

Jiro was looking down at his hands as he methodically, idly, played his bass softly, and he heard Takuro shift restlessly.

"Dammit... Where's Hisashi?" Takuro finally exclaimed out loud, clearly irritated.

Of their own volition Jiro's eyes rose to the door upon hearing Hisashi's name, and as he looked up, out of the corner of his eye he noticed Teru watching him. Jiro quickly looked back down.

It was a few minutes later that the guitarist in question showed up. As the door opened and he stepped inside all three pairs of eyes turned to him.

"Gomen nasai," he apologized quickly, immediately aiming to placate Takuro. He seemed honestly hurried, as if he had known he was going to be late and had tried to fix that, or at least felt bad about it, which was not a common occurrence.

"Why are you late *again*?" Takuro demanded.

"Phone call. I was on the phone with..." Hisashi cut off abruptly as his eyes landed ever so briefly on Jiro. Then he looked away and finished: "someone. It... was important."

Jiro looked down at the floor. < Izumi, Hisashi? Is that who it was? >

Pain welled up within. Coldly, mechanically, he tried to ignore it. He liked to pretend he could.

Takuro let Hisashi off with only a glare, and then moved away toward his guitar. Hisashi followed suit, walking swiftly to his place where he always stood. Near Jiro.

Jiro kept his eyes trained down on his hands and succeeded in ignoring Hisashi. Until he spoke.

"Jiro." Hisashi's voice was quiet and vaguely emotionless. The blonde froze. "I-"

"Don't talk to me," Jiro whispered. Staring at his hands, he saw them shaking. Forcefully he made them stop, and mechanically he began to play a soft, shaky tune. Hisashi relented.

Practice began then, and Jiro was grateful. It gave him something to focus on besides the blue-head standing only a few feet away.

Jiro wondered what Takuro and Teru knew, if Hisashi had told them anything. Teru seemed to know something was wrong, although he surely did not know what. But needless to say, they felt the tension, and practice was spent walking on glass. After they took a short break later that morning it was all Jiro could do not to turn around and leave.

Hisashi had approached him again. Jiro was walking back to the studio from the bathroom, which lay down a hallway toward the inside of the building, and as he stepped back inside Hisashi was right there, as if about to leave himself.

"Jiro..."

The blonde had frozen once again, eyes leaping to Hisashi before he could stop them. In Hisashi's countenance and eyes he had seen only unreadable emotion.

"I said don't talk to me," Jiro had repeated softly, hearing his own voice to be blank. He cast his eyes down.

"Demo-"

< It's not the place. It's not the time. It still hurts so much, makes me so angry... >

"Iie." Jiro had brushed past and walked away, his hands clenched tightly into fists. It was only when he saw Teru watching him that he released the tense clench of his fingers.

After that encounter it was all he could do to remain calm as practice proceeded and finally drew to an end. This wasn't working, it simply wasn't. And as of that moment, he could not foresee practice, Glay, continuing workably as it was now. Maybe it would be different in the future, after this... became the past. But from Jiro's current standpoint, he could not see that. He could only see the past and the present.

He was glad it was Friday; he needed time to think again, or if not to think, to be alone. Away from Hisashi. His muscles were tense - like the air was tense - when Takuro finally called out that practice was at an end. There was a vibration in the air that Jiro knew would not disappear and leave him relaxed until absolution was reached.

But he thought, as he walked over to his bass stand in silence, that there was still time. For what, he did not know. Maybe merely for him to come to terms with himself, for him to somehow begin to view an emotional situation in rational sight, if that would ever be possible. Maybe he simply wanted more time to run away.

But he was not given that option.

"Jiro."

His bass was on its stand, his hands were pulling away. The voice struck him like a wave, and it had the same effect as before. He froze.

He could feel Hisashi's presence behind him, feel it with every fiber of himself because he had spent what felt like an endless time becoming attuned to him, letting himself be drawn to him. Now he felt locked inside and needed to
escape but he didn't believe he could.

"Onegai..." Jiro whispered, not turning around. "I can't... talk to you..."

A long silence. Jiro watched his hands as they began to shake. "...Naze?"

Hisashi's voice was emotionless. His cold innocence burned Jiro. The blonde did not answer.

"Jiro..." Hisashi said again. He raised one hand and touched Jiro's arm.

The bassist stiffened as if an electric shot pulsed through him. "Don't touch me." He distantly marveled at how cold his voice was. He was simply intent on keeping anger and sorrow out of it. Instead, both transformed it into neutrality.

But Hisashi didn't listen. Instead he placed his other hand on Jiro's arm. In prelude to turning him around? Shaking him? Merely touching him? Jiro didn't stop to find out, he couldn't think clearly, he felt too much inside.

"I said don't fucking touch me." He whirled around as his harsh voice - shaking - cut the room.

Hisashi's eyes widened slightly, he took a step back. The barest flickers of emotion fled across his face, disappeared.

"Stay away from me, Hisashi... Glay is the only thing right now I can escape to. Don't take that away from me too."

His voice was ragged and passionate, cutting. From the corner of his eye he saw Teru and Takuro, some feet away toward the back of the studio; they were stalk still and watching the pair.

Hisashi opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed hesitant, or perhaps did not know what to say.

"Don't pretend you're innocent," Jiro bit out, hands balled into fists at his side. "Don't pretend you don't know what I mean... Do you expect me to turn around and fucking forgive you? Act like nothing happened?"

Hisashi's eyes flickered sideways to Teru and Takuro, returned to Jiro. "Jiro... Let's - not here..." he said quietly, imploring if not pleading.

"I don't *care* if they hear, Hisashi!" he said furiously. "You wanted to talk? Let's talk!"

The expression on Hisashi's face was tight, half-glare, half-cautionary. He didn't speak, seemed both taken aback and annoyed.

"Don't you understand?" Jiro said slowly, voice raw, heart raw as he studied Hisashi in anguish. "You *hurt* me. You hurt me more than I thought anyone could ever hurt me, and worse - it wasn't just anyone, it was *you*. You, who..." His voice failed him momentarily, and he realized with dismay tears stung his eyes.

< Won't they ever stop? > Angrily he swallowed the salty bitterness.

Hisashi's eyes narrowed. "Don't blame this on me," he snapped coldly, reacting to anger - and, more potently, blame - with a fury of his own. "I didn't ask for any of this."

"And you think I did?" Jiro demanded bitterly, gesturing sharply and helplessly with one hand. "I didn't *ask* to fall in love with you. I didn't ask you to let me believe it might not be in vain."

"You started this all," Hisashi accused harshly. "The day I announced my divorce. Don't blame *anything* on me."

"What should I have done? Lied? Would it have been better if I never told you?"

"You wouldn't have gotten hurt," Hisashi replied coldly.

< So uncaring, so cold... >

< Hurt? You always make me hurt... Why should it be any different now? > He stretched anger across the wound, uncaring of how thin the barrier became. It was all he had.

"I already *was* hurt!" Jiro cried. "So - I started it all, then? It's my own fault, and I leave myself burned? Then why did you *fuck* me...!? Why did you let that happen when you were only using me...?"

"Jiro-"

"Urusei!" he snarled, voice raising, breaking. < You used me, you're breaking me... or am I already broken? >

Hisashi's eyes flashed. "What the hell do you want from me?" His anger was jagged on his voice, cut over Jiro's shout. "Do you want me to sacrifice everything? To throw away my chance at regaining my life? Throw away the promise of forever and years of work for two weeks?"

"It wasn't just two weeks!" he cried. "It was everything, it is everything..." Shamefully, painfully, he felt a poignant, burning stream of tears begin to fall.

< Years, Hisashi... I've loved you for years, whether I knew it or not... >

< You used me for one night... >

< And this change will be forever. >

"What do I want from you?" he repeated, voice a raw, pained whisper, a harsh contrast to earlier. He closed his eyes. "I wanted you to love me, Tono... All I wanted..." A sob cut his throat.

Silence. Utter, complete, and deadly.

< I can't stay here... >

"Onegai, Hisashi," he said, now unable to open his eyes to look upon Hisashi's face. Because he hated him so much for what he did. Because he knew he could never stop loving him. "Leave me... alone. Glay... is all I have left."

Opening his eyes but seeing nothing, refusing to see anything, running away from what he saw, he fled through the door into the cold of an angry dusk.

part 7