Jiro put his favorite bass guitar down on the empty chair beside him and got up to pace the length of the studio. At twenty minutes before five, he was still the only soul inside. After all, he had been an hour and a half early. He was curious though why Takuro still wasn't around. Their workaholic leader was usually two--at one time even three--hours early for rehearsals. Then he wondered if Teru had made it back to Tokyo by lunch, like Hisashi said he would, as well as what made the vocalist fly off to Hokkaido in the first place. Jiro prayed it wasn't anything grave.

With a thoughtful sigh, Jiro wandered off to the piano in one corner of the room and sat down before it. He pressed the middle C twice then proceeded to play "Chopsticks", the only piano tune he could perform. There was a time when he caught Hisashi playing the same tune on this same piano during a break. The guitarist seemed so immersed with the new instrument then as though he had decided on trading his six-string in for the eighty-eight keys. The scene would've looked even more captivating had it been caught on film. Sadly, the only thing Jiro had of it was the memory somewhere in his mind, along with the others he kept.

/Hisashi,/ Jiro thought with a sigh. He wondered if the other man was still mad at him for last night. He hoped against hope Hisashi had forgotten about it. Jiro hadn't meant to call him up--he was perfectly aware of the guitarist's apathy towards the phone--but he just had to hear Hisashi's voice last night, just as he longed to hear it every single day.The soft creak of the heavy acoustic door intermitted Jiro's thoughts. He looked back over his shoulder and struggled to stay calm with the entry of the very person in his mind. Jiro offered a smile. "Hello."

Hisashi acknowledged Jiro's greeting with a nod. He wasn't expecting the other boy to be at the studio so early. Tardiness was the game Teru and Jiro shared. His eyes scanned the area as though to ascertain there were no one else, that it really was just the two of them.

"They're not here yet. I came in really early," Jiro explained. When he caught the trace of a glare in Hisashi's eyes, he added, "But I guess you can already tell."

Hisashi rolled his eyes perfectly, having had enough practice from reacting to Jiro's oftentimes nonsensical utterances. To avoid another round of it, the blue-haired man simply plugged in his Talbo then dedicated his pure attention to his strumming. Although it had been weeks since Takuro had given him copies of the new songs, Hisashi still hadn't been able to master his parts yet. He could almost see himself receiving a mighty round of scolding from their leader. The younger guitarist silently cursed for allowing himself to be too sidetracked lately. He wanted to blame the bassist, but he
knew it was stupid to do so.

From under his lashes, Hisashi sneaked a glance at Jiro. He was a bit startled to realize the younger man had swung his legs over the piano bench to face him, the china eyes intent on what he was doing. Hisashi lifted his head up and pulled on his sarcastic aloof persona, the one Jiro knew very well. "What?"

Jiro blinked. "What what?"

"You were looking at me. Was there something wrong with my music?"

"No. None at all." Jiro tore his gaze off Hisashi to focus on the door. "I was just wondering why the others aren't here yet, especially Takuro."

"Didn't you say we're both in here a bit early?" Hisashi saw Jiro nod like a kid. The guitarist arched a brow up. "Then what are you wondering about?"

Jiro bit the inside of his bottom lip, a sign that Hisashi's attitude had triumphed over him again, as it had always done. "Nothing, I guess." He wished he could just let it all out and tell Hisashi the truth: that he sat there transfixed at the vision before him. Hisashi simply was a sight to behold, the cold glare Jiro received notwithstanding. Jiro bowed his head down to keep from having to see more of Hisashi's sharp gaze.

"Kuso!" Jiro heard the other man cuss after what sounded like a flat note. The bassist looked up in time to see Hisashi set the Talbo down on a chair then pull a fresh pack of Kool from the side pocket of his green cargo pants.

"Where are you going?"

"Outside," came the curt reply.

Any comment Jiro could've made was superceded by the opening of the door and a jolly greeting. "Hi, guys!"

"Hi, Teru," Hisashi said, almost gushing. It was the first time Jiro saw the guitarist smile since they met that day. It made the bassist's insides churn.

The vocalist was oblivious to Jiro's inner turmoil. "Jiro, mah man! How's it going?"

"Couldn't be better." His forced smile was merely for Hisashi's sake and this the smaller man seemed to notice for Jiro received yet another glare.

Just as he would easily dismiss Jiro's presence, Hisashi swept the scowl off his face. He inched closer to the vocalist. "Ano Teru-chan, how was your sister?"

/Yeah, right, Mister How-should-I-know-what-Teru's-business-was-back-home,/ Jiro thought.

"She's fine," Teru replied. "She just had a bad case of indigestion and not a false labor alarm as we had all feared. Nothing to worry about." He looked around. "Say, where's Takky?"

"Who knows?" Hisashi replied with that sweet smile he only offered to Teru. "Ain't it strange for him to be late?"

"Indeed. I must be in twilight zone." His eyes widened in mischief. "Or maybe those alien dolls Takky-chan's fond of turned out to be real and they kidnapped him or something."

Hisashi chuckled, giving Teru's arm a playful slap. By then Jiro's mind was overflowing with morbid thoughts. Hisashi never laughed at Teru's quips, funny or otherwise.

Teru pointed to the pack in the guitarist's hand. "You off to smoke?"

"Yup. Nicotine calls."

"As if Teru needed to ask," Jiro mumbled under his breath. His eyes discreetly rolled heavenward. /Why then would Hisashi give that exact same thought when I'm the one asking?/ He shook his head. Jiro knew the answer.

"Great!" Teru exclaimed, producing half a pack of Frontier Menthol from his jacket's pocket before tossing the garment onto the floor.

"I'll go with you," volunteered the bassist.

Hisashi's eyes narrowed down on Jiro. "Since when did you start smoking?"

"I haven't."

"So what do you expect to do out there?"

Jiro's mouth was silent, but his mind was at work. /That I wouldn't have to resort to punching the daylights out of you for flirting with Teru too much./

Teru tapped Hisashi's shoulder. "Cut him some slack." Then to Jiro he said, "Alright, but I gotta warn you about second-hand smoke."

/Then stop smoking,/ Jiro thought. His bandmates were staring at him and to his horror, Jiro realized he had spoken aloud.Hisashi glowered. "What are you now, the Secretary of the Ministry of Health?"

Jiro admonished himself silently. Hisashi only had four passions: music, computers, booze and smoking. What right did he have anyway to deprive the guitarist of any of it? Jiro wasn't even Hisashi's beloved. "Ano, I meant you, Teru. You ought to quit messing with those coffin nails. Or you could at least cut back on it a little. It's doing things to your voice."

The vocalist pursed his lips in thought. "You know, you do have a point." He smoothed his neck with the pads of his fingers. "I've been having a hard time singing lately."

Hisashi's mouth gaped open. "Teru?"

"I've always told myself I'll quit." He shrugged. "I gotta start somewhere."

"Yeah, well you can start tomorrow."

"What's wrong with today?"

"What's wrong with today is that I came in late," came Takuro's voice as he made his way into the studio. Glay's support musicians lagged behind him. Carelessly, Takuro dropped his bag onto the floor. The Gibson was already strapped to his body. "C'mon, let's work."

The three remained motionless in their places, surprised at the leader's sudden entry. This, of course, didn't go past Takuro's eye for detail. "Why the hell do you look at me like you've just seen a ghost?"

Teru grinned. "You're here!"

"Yes, I am. Now let's get down to business." The workaholic he was, the Soul of Glay was never one to stop for a casual chitchat, especially while inside a studio.

Teru, apparently caught up in a good mood, was insistent. "Well, you could at least tell us why you made us wait for…" he checked his watch, "fifteen minutes."

Takuro wasn't amused. "You talk like this wasn't the first time you got here ahead of me."

"A pizza with all the works would serve enough penalty, and a nice apology for coming in late."

"If you don't get your butt working now, you'd never live to taste another slice of pizza ever again, do you understand?" He got a nod for a response. "Shigoto shiroyo." Takuro watched Teru trot to his place behind the microphone stand. Then he noticed Hisashi glaring sideways at a studying-the-floor Jiro. "Now what?" The two youngest members granted him their attention. "Have you two been arguing again?"

"Yes," Hisashi replied.

"No," came Jiro's answer at the same time.

"What on earth is going on?" Takuro demanded.

"We weren't arguing," Jiro insisted in defense of themselves before Hisashi could utter a word. Immediately, he picked up his bass guitar. "In fact, we were just getting ready to try the new songs you've composed."

* * *

/Damnit!/ Hisashi closed his eyes as he dropped the subject of his latest rift with Jiro to concentrate on more pressing matters, like how unprepared he was for today's rehearsals. The fact that Takuro was obviously in a foul mood didn't help him any.

"Hisashi!" The loud and stern manner Takuro called his name brought the petite man out of his trance.

He opened his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Mada?"

Hisashi gulped. "Uun." Retrieving his guitar, he mumbled a prayer. /Dear God, although I do not always pray to you and sometimes I do not believe in you, I'd like you to know I need serious help. Now. Love, Hisashi./

Takuro studied everyone in his respective place. "Okay. Let's play 'One Night', you hear? Three…two…one…go!"

Everybody immersed in what they were doing. Hisashi struggled to focus on what he was /supposed/ to be doing. He barely made it through the first refrain without dropping dead from all the dagger looks the leader gave every time he missed a note. By the second refrain, Hisashi totally lost it. When Takuro stopped playing, Hisashi braced himself for the worst.

"What the fuck are you doing?" the tall man snarled.

"Gomen nasai. I just…I mean, I don't know where that came from."

"It came from 'Beloved', darn it! Why the hell where you playing that?"

" 'Beloved'? You think so?" /Takuro sure does know his music,/ Hisashi confirmed. He started to think of an explanation, seeing the unyielding expression on Takuro's face and all. Either that or he'd pull a katana from nowhere and commit seppuku. "I guess it did, didn't it? Uhm, this new song kinda reminded me of 'Beloved', I guess, that's why--"

"Then why the hell did you play the bass parts?"

Hisashi stole a glance at Jiro to see how the bassist would react to the truth Takuro had noted. Relief came when Jiro seemed oblivious to anything but the workings of his Fender.

"Hisashi?" Takuro asked again so as not to be sidetracked.

"I, uh… Well…" He drew in a long breath then quickly puffed it out. "Actually, my hands are getting hot. I need a cigarette break." When Takuro only stared at him, he added, "Please?"

Hisashi knew Takuro was buying his excuse, the older man being a guitarist himself. The leader had been given that lecture before: 'Listen when the guitar tells you not to play.' Takuro rolled his eyes heavenward then spun around. Hisashi took it as his cue and before the leader could change his mind, Hisashi sprinted out of the studio.

* * *

"What's wrong with him?" Jiro heard Takuro ask after the petite one had left. He stopped his mock focusing on his guitar to listen to the brewing conversation among his bandmates. More than anything, the reason behind Hisashi's playing the bass parts really intrigued him.

"Nah," Teru said with a wave of his hand. "Don't mind him. He's just being the bitch he always is."

Jiro's eyebrows knitted together. He felt an urge to speak up and this he did in a voice that commanded attention. "How dare you."

Teru's stunned expression met Jiro. "I'm sorry?"

"Just because Hisashi's caught up on a bad mood doesn't make him worthy of that name you just called him. Jeez, Teru, he respects you. Don't ever call him that."

Casually, Teru fussed with his hair. "Chill out, Jiro! You weren't exactly his best friend either. I'm sure you call him worse."

"Look, he does make my life difficult but he's never been anything like that. And no, Teru, I've never called him such so just cut Hisashi some slack, okay?" Jiro set the bass down on the floor and headed for the exit.

"Where are you going now?" Takuro demanded.

"Outside," Jiro replied, unaffected by the tone. "There seems to be something in here that just ignites my temper."

"What is wrong with these people?" Takuro asked just before Jiro went through the doorway, but the bassist chose not to argue anymore.Jiro found Hisashi seated atop the hood of his 4X4 and basking in his nicotine paradise. The guitarist hadn't noticed him, Jiro was quite certain of that. Otherwise, Hisashi would've frowned and hurried back inside the studio, whether or not he'd finished his freshly lit stick.

Suddenly, Jiro felt the need to reach his own car. The sight was mesmerizing: the play of the sunlight was just of the right tone, the flowering sakura trees provided a good backdrop, and Hisashi was as lovely a subject as ever. His soft blue hair was wafting along withthe breeze, the thin lips puffing out nicotine-laced smoke, dreamy eyes in complete concentration of his vice. A fine addition to his array. Jiro just had to get it.

The dash to his Toyota was the fastest one Jiro had ever made, and the sneakiest as well, for Hisashi never showed any sign of having sensed his presence. Hiding behind the barrier his car provided, Jiro set the camera atop the car's roof, aimed it at his subject's profile and waited for that one perfect moment.

The breeze blew at Hisashi's cheek, tousling his hair altogether. It elicited a smile from the guitarist. He tilted his head slightly to his side. A free hand went up to tuck strands of hair gracefully behind an ear before resting at the side of his neck.

The shutter clicked.

part 2