He knew he was giddy without Teru having to point it out.

He didn’t believe he was truly that obvious, but apparently he was wrong. When most people were anxious or excited about something, they became more talkative. Jiro, for some reason acting as the antithesis to these normal people, became more quiet. And apparently his silence was noticed.

“Oi, Jiro,” Teru said quietly, startling Jiro enough that the bassist jumped.

Practice had just ended, and Jiro barely had any recollection of the songs they played, or how well they played them. What he did remember was the stolen glances. He recalled the way Hisashi had looked for each sidelong look, the way his hair was in his eyes, the concentration on his face, the quiet laughter during break.

Hisashi never noticed. Or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. But Jiro liked to believe he had used some amount of subtlety, that the stolen glimpses were in fact stolen successfully.

Teru continued. “Everything alright? You seemed a little off today..”

Jiro blushed, blinking back. “Eh... Did I mess up or something?” he asked. < Oh God... How embarrassing, if I screwed up and didn’t even notice... >

“No, no.” Teru put his fears to rest and he sighed. “It’s just... I don’t know. You were quieter. Are you alright?”

He smiled. “Aww, thanks Teru-kun, I’m fine. I guess – I dunno, I didn’t really feel like talking today, you know? I’m fine and everything, though.”

“You sure?”

He continued to smile. “Aa. Don’t worry, ne?”

Teru finally seemed to accept his response. “Alright. Then – I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Hai. Ja ne!”

He watched Teru leave, sighing to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Then he quickly cast a glance around the room, and to his consternation, he saw only Takuro. His eyes went wide.

< Oh shit... Where’d he go? >

He couldn’t miss his chance now, he had spent so long trying to work up to this. As he was biting his lip, eyes still sweeping the room, he finally saw that Hisashi’s jacket was balled up on the ground next to the wall and near his guitar stand.

“Ne, Takuro-kun... Where’d Hisashi go?” he asked, hiding his relief at finding that Hisashi surely had not left yet.

Takuro glanced up from unplugging the amps. “Eh... He went in the back room, I asked him to put away those extra music stands that were out. And I have somewhere to be,” Takuro continued, straightening. He turned to look at Jiro. “So I need to take off now, can you ask Hisashi to lock up when he comes out? I’ll leave the keys.” He tossed them easily toward Jiro, and the startled bassist fumbled before catching them securely.

Takuro grinned, pulling on his coat. “See you tomorrow, ne?”

Jiro smiled and watched him go.

Outwardly his face was calm. Inside, his heart was pounding.

He couldn’t have asked for a better situation. He had to wait for Hisashi to give him the keys, they were alone – it was the perfect opportunity. Something about this was fateful, and the thought made him both nervous and heady.

Running a hand through his hair, he glanced around anxiously. There were two windows against the west wall, by the parking lot, and the setting sun streamed inside. Orange-golden shafts of light cut across the wooden floor creating a soft, warm glow to bathe the room, painting the studio from a mere room to a soft work of art.

Jiro was momentarily distracted by this loveliness he had never before noticed at the end of practice, and his moment of distraction was enough for Hisashi to return unnoticed, slip past Jiro’s wandering consciousness. The slender guitarist was habitually graceful and quiet, and Jiro, believing him to still be absent, was unprepared when he spoke.

“Where’s Takuro?”

Jiro released a rather undignified and embarrassing yelp as the silence was suddenly sliced. He turned and saw Hisashi a few feet from the door to the back room, peering at him quizzically. He stood near the corner, and there was a halo of shadow behind him. His face was softly illuminated by the amber sunlight.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was cool and distant. Typically Hisashi.

Jiro knew he was blushing. “Ah... You surprised me,” he explained, glancing away.

< Great way to start off, Jiro... Squeaking like a fool. >

“Oh.”

Jiro stared at the ground as Hisashi moved. He heard the soft footsteps begin to cross the room, presumably to where the guitarist’s belongings were sitting, and the quiet was somewhat awkward. He could see the barest glimmer of gold on the wooden floor near his feet.

When Hisashi’s footsteps came nearer, Jiro couldn’t help but lift his face slightly, casting a glance forward through lowered lashes as Hisashi passed his sight.

His halo of shadow had now become light as he passed in front of the windows. The sight fairly took Jiro’s breath away.

He let his eyes remain on Hisashi as the other man continued to cross the room, oblivious of his gaze. He watched as Hisashi paused near his guitar to make sure it was settled securely on its stand, as he dropped softly to his knees to untangle a few wires, as he rose to a stand once again.

He was beautiful in everything he did. Concentrating during practice, talking quietly and carelessly to Teru as they walked outside to smoke, being silent and elegant as he prepared to leave.

He was so beautiful, Jiro could never escape the fact, it always whispered in the back of his mind.

And Jiro knew exactly when this all began, too. These thoughts, these ideas. The first time they met.

When Jiro joined Glay – after getting over his initial reluctance – it wasn’t as if Takuro was the only one he had seen. He was the only one Jiro had personally met, yes, but Jiro knew what the others looked like, he had heard them play. But he had never pinpointed Hisashi as someone special.

But that first day of practice, when Takuro told him when to meet them and where, he was introduced to Teru and Hisashi. The vocalist was friendly, he gave Jiro an easy-going smile and welcomed him to the band, saying he was excited to have Jiro with them. And then came Hisashi.

Takuro led him to the guitarist, who had his head down as he tuned his guitar. And when Takuro spoke to introduce Jiro, Hisashi looked up, and all Jiro could think was how perfect he was. The sculpted elegance of his features, the fall of hair around his face, the dark, intense eyes, the cool, aloof attitude. He barely gave Jiro a second glance, nodding and perhaps saying a few kind words, but the bassist somehow knew that was just his way.

After that, though, things were normal. They were a band and Jiro pursued nothing with Hisashi, as much as he knew he had something of a crush on the other man. They were band mates, he was a man who was probably straight – as much as Jiro hated the thought – and he figured the feeling would fade. Normally such things did.

But one month ago – six months after joining – Jiro found out that Hisashi was bi.

<<<

Jiro walked toward the studio, humming very softly to himself as he strode down the hall.

< You’re lonely, Hisashi, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes... There’s a mask there – you, you always have a mask – but I know you’re lonely... >

< That’s sad, you shouldn’t be lonely, you know. You’re beautiful... And you pretend not to care about anyone, but you do. You can’t hide it, even if you want to. Every so often I’ll see you smile, I’ll see something to indicate how much you care about Glay, about the people around you. I’ll see gentleness in your dark, cool gaze. >

His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles as he mused about the guitarist, spoke silently to the guitarist. He did this a lot when he had nothing else to keep his mind occupied.

< I wish I could understand you... I wish I could try, I wish you’d let me. I want to know why you’re lonely... >

When he was within two feet of the door to their studio room he heard voices, and glancing up with more cognizance, he saw that the door was slightly ajar. He froze where he was, just about to slip inside, just beyond sight, and then remained silent as curiosity got the better of him.

He recognized the voices to be Teru and Hisashi. For once Takuro would be the last to practice, it seemed, because it sounded clear that they were the only two in there.

“....’course we’re good friends,” Teru was saying, voice quiet but tone not grave, only friendly. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

A sigh. “Then... Before I change my mind... Well, I guess I just wanted to tell someone. I’m afraid that – that it could affect the band in some way, you know...?”

Jiro frowned. He could imagine the expression was mirrored on Teru’s face.

< Hisashi certainly sounds hesitant... What’s going on? Doesn’t sound like him at all... > Obviously it was something important.

“Teru, I... I’m bi.”

Silence. Jiro stared in shock at the wall across from him.

Teru’s voice after a long moment: “....Hounto ni?” he asked. He was clearly surprised.

“Eh... Hai.” Hisashi’s voice sounded unnaturally nervous.

“Oh, Hisa... Why do you think that would affect the band?” Teru asked, voice warm.

“Well, you know... Some people don’t accept that kind of stuff well...”

Teru laughed. “Listen, Hisashi, don’t worry about that. Definitely not with me, not with anyone else either.”

“Arigato, Tekko,” Hisashi responded, relief coloring his tone.

They might have said more, after that. Jiro didn’t remember, he didn’t hear. He was still staring without seeing at the wall.

< Hisashi... Is bi... >

Before he could control himself his heart skipped a beat.

< That means I have a chance... >

>>>

It took him an entire month to work up to this moment. This moment as he stood in the studio and the past seven months flickered by his sight, images of Hisashi and strings of Jiro’s musing being recalled.

It took him a month since that day of eavesdropping to work up to this moment and he almost missed his chance.

“Ja ne, Jiro.” Hisashi’s quiet voice cut through his thoughts.

He came back to reality with a snap. “Matte,” he said quickly, before he had a chance to stop himself. Focusing on Hisashi, he found the guitarist looking at him curiously, paused where he was.

“Eh... Takuro had to go somewhere, so he left, and he asked me to tell you to lock up.” Clutching the keys in one hand, he moved to approach the other man.

Hisashi blinked. “Can’t you do it?” His expression was slightly and adorably bewildered.

Jiro flushed, faltering, coming to a stop. “Oh... Well, yeah, I guess I could.” He laughed nervously. Then Hisashi moved to turn away, and he had no choice but to speak up again. “Hisashi, wait.”

Again, the guitarist paused, eyes returning to Jiro. He seemed slightly irritated at the string of interruptions.

“Can – can I talk to you for a minute?” Jiro asked, biting his lip.

A soft frown, the annoyance fading. “Anou... Well, sure.” Waiting silence.

< Oh God, you’re not going to make this easy, are you? You and your silence... >

Taking a deep breath, moving decisively, he walked to Hisashi, stopping in front of him. With every step he tried to calm his racing heart. It didn’t work.

“I... anou...” His voice began slightly hoarse, and it trailed off quickly.

< Damn damn damn... >

He didn’t know if it was the anxiety that made him unable to speak, or the way Hisashi was looking at him. They were within two feet of each other, and Hisashi was just looking at him, gaze deep and intense, drawing Jiro in, making him forget what he wanted to say even as he screamed it in his head.

< You’re beautiful, so beautiful... >

The sun was closer to setting now, the rays were deeper red, thick and passionate like blood. The room was dimmer, the glow of sunset more vivid. A soft fringe of red traced one side of Hisashi’s face, reflected in a barely noticeable gleam from his hair.

His elegant cheekbones were highlighted by the dusk-light. His lips were closed as he embraced his silence, waiting.

His lips...

Jiro leaned forward and kissed him.

Upon later reflection, he would realize he had no recollection of movement. He was just standing there, staring helplessly at Hisashi, and then they were kissing, there was no decision to just kiss him, no remembrance of leaning forward to do so.

It just happened.

It was abrupt, but it was not a mere brush; it was sudden, but it was not confident or forceful. It was just a kiss, gentle and suggestive, impulsive and uncertain, and there was the faintest sensation of being kissed back, as if Hisashi was reacting without thinking. Jiro knew that it was surely a reflex, but the light suggestion of Hisashi momentarily kissing back gave him a shivering thrill.

When Jiro pulled back and opened his eyes, Hisashi’s gaze had widened and his lips remained ever so slightly parted. And it could have been the stain of the sunset, but there appeared to be a very faint blush upon his cheeks.

“When I look at you, you seem lonely.”

The words tumbled out of Jiro’s mouth before he could stop them. Hisashi’s gaze remained wide, here merely stared at Jiro.

The bassist clasped his hands together in front of him, clutching them in a gesture of nervousness. “I’ve been with Glay for seven months now, and ever since that first day, there – there’s been something about you. I mean, I always thought that – that... you were attractive.” He hated the fact that he blushed so easily. And his heart wouldn’t stop racing. Yet, on some level, he didn’t want his heart to slow.

“But then I started to notice other things, like... Like how you sometimes look lonely. And how you seem to hide yourself...”

Hisashi’s startled gaze had now degenerated to half-surprised, half-intent. He still didn’t speak.

< I guess... He hasn’t told me to go to hell yet. That’s a good sign... Right...? >

He wrung his hands, continued, stumbling over the words, feeling like he babbled. “I – I wish I could know you better... Know why you pretend to be so uncaring and aloof... And last month, I – I accidentally overheard you talking to Teru. When you told him... you were bi.”

His eyes kept tracing Hisashi’s feature – he was surprised he was able to keep his gaze direct – searching for some sign of response, anything. He saw things he hadn’t seen often before, but he couldn’t understand them.

As Jiro let his words hang in the silence, breathless and rosy with the sunset, Hisashi finally spoke.

“Anou... Jiro... Listen, I’m really flattered...”

His hands froze in their absent twisting of each other.

< Oh fuck... That’s not good.... >

What he was waiting for, fearing, followed.

“But... I – I don’t know what to say to that.”

Jiro’s heart sank.

“I didn’t... expect anything like that, and – and I really don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I never – I guess I never thought of you that way...”

It was only now that Jiro let his eyes drift away. He tried to keep the flinch from his face, but damn... That hurt.

< It’s not like he’s rejecting me, technically, but... >

It still hurt.

“I need to go now, though. I have somewhere I’m supposed to be...” Hisashi sounded nervous again, uncertainty was seeping through his actions and his words, even if he tried to hide it. His voice was coolly gentle.

Jiro shut his eyes, that being the only suggestion of a wince he allowed to color his features. He was rather proud of how composed he believed he appeared.

“Ah... hai,” he replied softly. He waited to hear Hisashi leave, expecting the soft rustle of movement, but it didn’t come immediately. He wished it would.

< Oh God.. Just leave now. Let me be alone with my misery... >

It’s not like he was in love with the other man. It was just a crush, maybe something a bit deeper. It’s not like he had constructed his dreams around this sole idea, this moment.

But he couldn’t just laugh it off, either. He couldn’t lie to himself, because he had had his hopes placed high.

Finally he heard Hisashi move, there was the gentle rustling as Hisashi must have adjusted his coat, and then the soft shuffle of footsteps as he turned to leave.

Jiro would have been content to let his eyes remained closed, stay frozen where he was, until Hisashi was gone. But his eyes slid open again of their own volition when Hisashi suddenly spoke.

“Jiro...”

Jiro peered through the dim, red light, saw that Hisashi was facing him again, one step from the door, a few steps now from the bassist.

“I – I really am sorry that I can’t... say something in return. I had no idea, and... This really just isn’t a good time.” Jiro didn’t know if he meant that instant in time, after practice, or if something was going on in his life.

“But...” Again, the uncharacteristic uncertainty flashing in Hisashi’s gaze, dancing across his elegant features. Hesitation ringing in his voice.

Whatever words had rested on his tongue, however, dissolved, and he didn’t continue. Either that hesitation or some other stray thought halted him. He merely ended with a softly spoken: “Ja ne...”

Jiro wanted to respond, but when he opened his mouth his voice failed him. His throat was tight, with his regret and also with things unsaid. He wanted to ask Hisashi to continue, he wanted to know what he had been going to say...

< ‘This really just isn’t a good time... But...’ >

But what?

< ‘But maybe we can talk about this later? But there’s someone else? But I truly am madly in love with you?’ >

A painfully wry smile twisted Jiro’s lips as Hisashi turned away, dark eyes finally breaking away. Jiro stared at his slender back as he left, stared at the door long after he was gone, his memory was strong within Jiro.

The bassist felt suddenly weary and tired, and he sank to his knees in the silence of the room, shifting then to cross his legs in front of him. The atmosphere of the studio was somewhere surreal; the sun had just finished setting, suggestions of after-rays painted the sky, and the lights were off. A cool, dim darkness washed over the chamber.

He felt like he should have been more upset. He was rejected, after all, even if it was done in a nice way.

But there were certain things his mind simply could not let go of, could not ignore.

The way Hisashi barely kissed back...

The faint blush upon his cheeks...

His intense silence, as he listened to what Jiro said, as it filtered through him and he did not immediately reject it...

The way he had turned back and looked at Jiro, gazing at him with a certain mixture of trepidation, regret, surprise, and contemplation in his eyes.

< ‘But...’ >

Words fading into silence, but words clearly unsaid. And if something was unsaid it meant that it still remained, and it would be spoken.

Someday.

Sitting on the floor of the studio, heart aching but thoughts strangely calm and surprisingly optimistic, embracing the silence left behind by Hisashi, Jiro memorized the taste still lingering on his lips. And some part of him couldn’t help but believe he would taste it again.