Hisashi strolled over the bush-lined footpath that led to Jiro's door. It was still early, as the morning breeze was still cold and somewhat moist from the prior night's mist. He suddenly wondered if the other man was still asleep. After all, they were still on vacation. Everybody had the privilege of getting up at whatever time they wanted to without the austere leader reminding them to snap out of their clouds. //Everybody except me//, he thought bitterly. //None of this would've happened if I had paid more attention on my job than on somebody else.// Images of the previous day flashed through his mind and made him forget his cares. It had been worth it anyway.

Standing before the vertical piece of lumber, Hisashi looked down at himself for a final check. Clean boots, casual black jeans, blue T-shirt, blue spring jacket. He raised his wrist to his nose, inhaling to check the scent of his cologne. Then he readjusted the dark shades shielding his eyes from the rising sun and from outright recognition. All set. Then he snorted, //Why should I even care? It's not like I'm out to ask him for a date.// Embracing the denim jacket to his chest--the reason why he was standing where he was right now--Hisashi's free hand knocked on the door.

There was no answer. Hisashi let five seconds pass before he rapped on the wood again. Still no response. //Maybe I should've called first//, he thought but then ditched the slight regret. Hisashi loved the factor of surprise.

A little shriek from along the road caused Hisashi to look back, in fear that someone had recognized him. Seeing two pop icons at the same time would be enough to send the whole neighborhood into a frenzy. But being in the biz for so long, Hisashi had gotten to the ruckus by now as long as the people would cooperate. Besides, it wasn't so much as being seen outside that scared him…it was being seen standing on the front porch of the person he was visiting.

Relief came on the discovery that the noise had come from a toddler excited over seeing a puppy. The innocence of the child caught the guitarist's attention and made him smile. Maybe he could make a song out of it. Still eyeing the scene, his hand raised up, ready to assault the door another time. His knuckles came in contact with an angled object not of wood, but of something else.

"OWWW!"

Hisashi nearly jumped out of his skin at the exclamation. Whirling around, he saw the bassist's fingers smoothing the reddening bridge of his nose. "Oh my god!" Hisashi's hands pressed before his mouth. "Jiro, I'm so sorry!"

"Nice shot," Jiro replied, his voice not one of bitterness or anger.

Instinctively, Hisashi held Jiro's hand and moved it away to examine the damage himself. "Oh God, tell me it's not bleeding! Jesus Christ, tell me it's not bleeding, please!"

"Ne, I'm alright, Hisashi," Jiro assured.

"Zettai?"

"Yeah. I'm just a little knocked-out, but I'm fine."

"Jeez, I really am so sorry, Jiro. I didn't mean to."

"I know. For a second there you made me wonder if you're always this nice to persons you treat ice cream to." Jiro remarked lightheartedly, smiling warmly at the guitarist as though to assure the man he really was alright.

Hisashi returned the smile then proceeded to fling his sunglasses off, coming face to face with Jiro's gaze. "Uhm, may I come in?"

"Sure." Jiro leaned back in the doorway to allow the other man to pass through. The guest brushed past him and waited for the door to shut close. "So, to what do I owe this royal visit?"

Hisashi extended his arm in the direction of the bassist, the jacket in his clutches. "I came to give this back. That was so thoughtful of you."

Jiro took the clothing. "It was nothing."

"You could've just gotten me a blanket from my bedroom, you know."

"I didn't think it would be right for me to barge into your sleeping quarters without you knowing."

"I wouldn't have minded. The cause was for my benefit." //Baka, have you forgotten about the silver-framed photo sitting prettily atop your nightstand?// Hisashi cleared his throat in an effort of recovery. "But then you're right. Thank you for the respect."

Jiro shifted his weight onto his left leg, an apologetic smile adorning his boyish features. "Hey, I'm sorry if I left without a warning. I didn't want to wake you up. And with you sleeping so soundly, I figured the last thing you'd need is company."

Hisashi gathered a lock of hair behind his ear, a shy smile breaking out on his face. "Actually, I should be the one to apologize. It was so rude of me to have fallen asleep on you."

"You were tired. And worried. You needed the rest or you wouldn't have dozed off the way you did."

"Was I snoring?"

Jiro grinned. "Louder than Takuro."

Hisashi chuckled. He loved the feeling of exchanging laughs with the man he was indifferent to until just days ago. Perhaps the feeling of privacy provided by the walls of Jiro's comfy house helped. Or the fact that the bassist was really a nice person once you get to know him.

"So, uh," Jiro said, shuffling the jacket in his hands, "What can I do for you?"

Hisashi wrinkled his nose, casually looking around. "For starters, how about clueing me in on what you were cooking?" He saw the bassist's eyes widen then curse, "Holy shit!" before pivoting on his heels, altogether dropping the garment onto the floor. Chuckling at his bandmate's blunder, Hisashi watched the bassist's form disappear into the kitchen. He picked the jacket up and lay it down on a chair.

The smoke emanating from atop Jiro's hot plate met Hisashi in the kitchen after he gave in to the temptation of tracing Jiro's steps. "So, what's for breakfast?"

Jiro held the frying pan to his chest, inspecting what was salvaged of the food. "Overcrisp bacon."

"Hey, bacon ought to be crispy." He took a plate from the cupboard and offered it to the cook. He couldn't hide his snicker over the black strips of meat. "Ne, this looks bad."

"Mane," Jiro replied gingerly. He proceeded to the sink and turned the tap on, scrubbing the singe off.

Hisashi set the plate down the table, along with the hash browns and fried eggs, muffins, sausages, orange juice and coffee already fixed on the breakfast counter. A brow shot up. "Who are you having over for breakfast, the Emperor?"

"No. Why?"

"You have food here enough to sustain a fan-filled Budokan," came the taunting remark. "You don't have Reiko tucked upstairs waiting for breakfast in your bed, do you?" Hisashi hated to sound nosy but a part of him desperately wanted to know, but god he abhorred himself stressing on the word.

"No," Jiro replied. "Honestly, I don't know why I prepared a feast. Maybe it was the heady feeling of enjoying something like this here in my own kitchen than in those fancy
hotels
we've stayed at."

"Or maybe your ESP's working overtime," Hisashi put in.

"Maybe. Or perhaps I'm just that hungry."

"Well, Kami, I pray not because I don't want to think about how you'd perform those concert acrobats of yours if you'll balloon up all because of one mighty breakfast." Although Jiro still had his back against him, Hisashi saw the bassist's shoulders tremble along with a chuckle. It also dawned into the guitarist how graceful Jiro's long, slender neck was, and how his lean torso--covered in nothing but a gray clinging undershirt, which Hisashi would've realized earlier if not for the slight mishap at the doorstep--streamlined to a small waist, just slightly above a blue-denim waistband. //This image should be captured on film//, came the unbidden thought.

"K'so!" Hisashi heard Jiro curse almost inaudibly which he would've missed hadn't he been paying attention…like he always did before. "What's the problem?" he asked, placing himself beside his…//Dare I now refer to him as a friend?// Hisashi shrugged. //Well, I've never called him my enemy, no matter how much I thought I hated him.//

"I can't get the burnt part out." He sighed in defeat. "Maybe I ought to bid Teflon pan #8 goodbye and say hello to #9." He snickered. "And you wonder why they call it non-stick."

"Well, they didn't call it burn-free anyway. And really, you've ruined that much?" Hisashi pursed his lips and studied the pan Jiro was scrubbing away like there was no tomorrow. "Hey, don't take it out on the pan. It won't fight back."

"But it's got no use anymore."

"Not so. Do you have any vinegar?"

Question crinkled between Jiro's brows. "How's that supposed to help?"

"Just trust me. Do you have any?" Jiro seemed to wonder if Hisashi was talking about the acid or the trust but he handed him the liquid wordlessly. Hisashi poured some on the pan, just enough to cover the burn, then let it come to a boil over the stove. After a while, he returned to the sink to wash it where the black spot was slowly coming off.

"Sugoi! Where'd you learn that?"

"I wasn't exactly deaf on all of Kaasan's lectures."

"Sokka. That's really neat, considering I've never pictured you to be the domestic type of person."

"Well, there are a lot of things about me you don't know."

"Yes, I know."

Hisashi fell uncomfortably silent at the tone because it was true and because it was not entirely all of the bassist's faults. Sighing, Hisashi scoured the pan spotless then rinsed it one last time before he placed it on the rack. "There we go."

Jiro nodded. "Not bad." He rubbed his palms brightly. "Well, since you saved my pan, you might as well join me for breakfast. Have you eaten?"

"No." Hisashi doesn't normally eat breakfast, but for some reason, he found himself wanting to eat away. It must be the inviting food ready on the table. Still, it could be the company his host provided. Hisashi deled the second thought in mind. //Nah, it's the food.// He offered Jiro a smile. "I'd love to. Thanks."

"You want to do what?!" Jiro queried after a newly rinsed plate slipped from his hands, threatening to generate itself into a thousand little pieces of black Japanese porcelain. There had been too many surprises being shoved onto his face lately, he wondered if he could take some more. Hisashi better run that last sentence by him one more time.

"I said that if it's possible at all, I would want to practice my parts in the new songs with you," Hisashi repeated slowly as though he were getting paid by the syllable. Hands behind his back, he leaned against the kitchen counter. "So, what do you think?"

"We'll be practicing here? At my house?"

"Well, yes. After all, I've got my equipment back in the trunk of my car if it would interest you. Then again if we'd cause enough ruckus for the neighbors to call for the police, we could go over to my place and practice there."

Jiro carried on with his task of wiping dry the dinnerware they had just used. "I have nothing against us practicing here, or anywhere for that matter."

"Then why did you react like I'd just jumped off a cliff or something?"

"Well, it's just…I mean…I guess it's…" He found the excuse. "Caffeine overdose." Jiro cleared his throat to segue into the next subject. "So, uhm, why'd you want to practice with me?"

Hisashi rocked his body on his heels then looked up, as though the answers were written on Jiro's kitchen ceiling. "You know how badly I've been reproached the last time by that hallowed paramount leader of ours so he's not exactly someone I'd like to see for as long as we have this break. Besides, I hold the same instrument he does. I wouldn't be able to conjure up my lethal riffs that way."

"What about Teru? You could play while he sings."

The guitarist chuckled. "If I spend the day with Teru, he and I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything at all! We'd be too busy doing anything but the song."

//I had to ask//, Jiro admonished himself as a sharp feeling stabbed right at him, a feeling he could only recognize to be jealousy. He kept the grim look on his face away from Hisashi's eyes by busying himself washing his hands. //Like we couldn't fool around if we're the ones together, is that it?//

"Besides," Hisashi continued, undiscerning of the other man's silent anguish, "I've told you Keiji and Rei are with him. I don't want for him and me to look like we're one big happy Kobashi family." Hisashi laughed hysterically at that.

"A lot of people would've paid a fortune to see you all together like that," Jiro muttered. The bassist was really asking for it.

"Hontou ni?" Hisashi's lips twitched and he cast his gaze down on the tiled floor. His voice dropped to a softer tone. "Well, you--of all people--shouldn't believe that, right?"

A morsel of hope hit Jiro. The eyes that had been avoiding Hisashi found its way again to settle at the small man. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Hisashi said, casually handing Jiro a towel, "we've all been together all these years. Despite what everyone thinks, you know there's nothing going on between Teru and me."

A brow raised up in a challenge. "Are you sure?"

Hisashi looked at him like he'd just lost his mind. "What are you, nuts? That's Teru you're talking about. Just thinking of him and me in a very uncompromising situation makes me…" The guitarist shuddered, his face contorting into an expression Jiro had only seen once: when Hisashi tried to eat spinach. "EEW!"

"Is that why he kissed you during our last live?"

"Oh, that?" Hisashi wasn't able to help from laughing even harder. "It was hardly a kiss. A mere, awkward peck on the cheek is more like it. Besides, that was out of a bet. Teru was positive he'd be able to make me blush, that's why he did it but he lost, ha ha! Teru no baka! I'm not that type of person, right? And don't tell me you didn't know that I snubbed him for an entire week because of it."

Jiro scratched the back of his ear. "I, uh, I didn't know that."

The other man's sculpted eyebrows furrowed. "Doushite?"

"Datte…" Jiro shrugged, "we didn't mind each other."

"Back then," Hisashi concluded.

He nodded. "Yes, back then." He bit the inside of his bottom lip in thought. //Does this mean we've heard the end of the Jiro-Hisashi snobfest?//

Hisashi inclined his head aside and sported a coquettish smile. "I hope that clarification placated you."

Perplexity was all over Jiro's face. "Why would I need to be explained to?"

"Oh, I don't know." Hisashi slightly shrugged his shoulders. "I just thought in case some green-eyed monsters invade your mind or something…"

Jiro's eyes grew even bigger, if that was possible. //What the…you can't possibly…you don't mean…// He sighed. //This bastard must really be a psychic! Either that or he's drunk and is not aware of what he's saying.//

Hisashi laughed again, more lightheartedly this time around. His hands went up to rest on either of the bassist's cheeks, affectionately squeezing them. "Jiro, honey, you really should wean yourself of the caffeine intake."

Jiro started to think in exclamation points while staring dumbfounded at Hisashi's figure retreating back into the living room. Much more than the fact that the guitarist seemed to have been thinking along the same line he did, the flirty tone in the petite man's voice rendered him speechless. Those were the kind of lines Hisashi would usually hurl at Teru to make the vocalist turn redder than an apple. //'Jiro, honey,' Hisashi says as comfortably, as if they were steady…or married!// He looked up. "Somebody up there's got some explaining to do," he muttered.

Hisashi wondered if his blood would stain the off-white wash of Jiro's wall if he banged his own head against it. Since he left the bassist in the kitchen, it was all he had been thinking of doing.

//K'so, Hisashi, you were quite one hell of a shit out there//, he chided himself. //Now Jiro could probably tell how much you want to be his best friend from now on, seeing the reaction on his face and all.// He had said too much too soon, he knew, and he even acted it. He couldn't believe how he could have been so flirty and bitchy and forward and talkative and…

He sighed. And honest. He had to admit that it was nice chatting around with Jiro so much that the guitarist forgot who he had been dealing with, that this was the very same man he hated over the years for the simple reason that…

//Nothing.//

The blue head bent down in defeat to focus on the floor. Other than the feeling brought about by his own pride and insecurity blown out of proportion, there was nothing that Hisashi really hated about Jiro. And hate was too strong a word. It was more like he saw Jiro as a rival. The young one was good at both the bass and guitar, could give Teru a run for his job as vocalist, and is equally as beautiful and enchanting as Hisashi. The guitarist simply had too much arrogance to admit he was threatened by Jiro's presence in Glay. That's when he started to ignore the other man. And that was all before he realized how sweet, caring and lovable Jiro is. For one, he helped him with Ayu.

"Uh, Hisashi?" Jiro called out. Instantly, the guitarist knelt on the carpet, on the pretense of fussing with the hem of his jeans.

"Yeah?" Hisashi said back. Through a cautious peek, he saw a pair of small feet by the foot of the stairs.

"I'll just take a shower first then we could spend the day jamming. 'That okay?"

"Sure." At any other time, Hisashi would've scoffed at Jiro for sounding a little like their leader. Some influence Takuro must've been. What sane man would want to throw a whole day away working?

"I'll only take a while."

"There's no rush. I'll just go get my guitar and start tuning it or something."

"Okay."

Footsteps climbing up the stairs and a door closing somewhere up there eased Hisashi down. Maybe staying with the other man wasn't such a good idea after all, but heaven knew how much Hisashi needed to rehearse his parts. Doing it alone would be of no help; he was more than convinced he'd only end up playing *other* songs…using *another* instrument.

Hisashi got to his feet and spun around, meeting his own reflection on the mirror above the oaken bureau. He anchored his arms on the furniture and stared back at himself. "What is gong on with you, Hisashi?" he asked between gritted teeth. "You act like though you're in here to ask for Jiro's hand in marriage! Get a hold of your self, for crying out loud!"

The sound of water dripping from a showerhead interrupted Hisashi's monologue. He scowled at the top of the stairs. //Doesn't he close doors when he takes a bath?// It seemed as though the water pressure's strong enough to gore right through Jiro's head.

Another thought found its way into his already befuddled mind. Hisashi's head was instantly filled with images of Jiro standing on the dark blue-tiled bathroom in nothing but skin and soapsuds. It brought about a sudden heat somewhere between Hisashi's thighs. Sensing an impending nosebleed, he covered the lower half of his face then shook his head, frantically erasing the thought. He came face to face with the mirror once again and marveled at the reflection that stared back. For the first time in years, Hisashi questioned when he had blushed as much as he did now.

Dressing up in his bedroom, Jiro could hear the strains of guitar strings down at the living room. //That man really had his heart set on working the whole day, hasn't he?//

//That's what Hisashi's come here for. Why would you think of anything else?//

//Because I was kinda hoping--//

Jiro sputtered. He really ought to stop talking with himself.

After running a comb through his blonde-brown mane, he declared himself ready. Glancing around to check he'd tidied up--//in case Hisashi would want to crash here//, came the offhand thought--his vision led him to the phone. He picked it up and dialed Reiko's number to leave a message on her machine, something about him going out for an emergency meeting with the band and that they had to cancel their plans--*her* plans--for the day.

After doing so, he stared at the unit for yet another ten seconds before he gave in to the thought and pulled the telephone wire out of the box, rendering the equipment dead. Now all he had to do was perform the same task on the two other units downstairs.

part 4