"Ohayo!" Jiro greeted cheerfully upon entry into the recording studio.

Takuro tore his eyes off his fingers on the fret board and looked cap-a-pie at the Flare of Glay. There was suspicion in his gaze. "Are you onto something nasty?"

"What?" the bassist chuckled.

"Because if you are, I'd demand you forget it at this very moment. The new album should be out by next month. We *need* to concentrate."

Still smiling, Jiro took his bass out of the case and started tuning it. "Yeah, yeah. How can I forget? You've told us that twenty-eight times."

"Just trying to make sure you're counting." The wary look on the leader's face was swept off by a mischievous one. "Ne, you're more energetic than anyone I know after being up until morning."

Jiro was slightly puzzled. "How did you know I stayed up late?"

"Reiko called me yesterday looking for you. Then she told me she'd taken a leave from work so I figured she'd be drinking morning coffee with you." He nudged an elbow kiddingly at the other man. "So…you got a pretty good lay last night? You must've had or you wouldn't be showing up here like Mister Pure Sunshine."

Jiro shook his head. Since when did Takuro start having interest in his nocturnal activities? "Reiko didn't crash last night. We just talked."

"You guys had a fight?" It was hardly a question.

"Something like that."

Takuro slowly nodded as though the whole thing was finally clear to him. "Well, you must've had one hell of a fight having sensed how pissed off she was when we talked. Was the fight nasty?"

"You could say that."

"So how come you don't look haggard after a rough night?" When Jiro only shrugged, Takuro scratched his chin, on to finding out what he was missing. "You were nowhere to be found the last couple of days. Where have you gone off to anyway?"

"Here and there," he replied vaguely. "I took some pictures." That hadn't been so hard to say. It wasn't a lie.

"I also couldn't find Hisashi." The leader snickered. "If I didn't know any better, I could've sworn you two were together all those time, but then of course, that's next to impossible…"

//Not if you'd seen it for yourself.// Though Jiro was dying to blurt out the truth to the world, he wasn't sure if Hisashi wanted the same thing. "Ne, he just unplugged his phones to concentrate on the songs."

"How'd you know that?" Takuro looked inquisitive. He was showing too much facial expressions for one morning.

"Hunch." Jiro shrugged his shoulders. "You were pretty hard on him the last time we practiced. He must've tried slaving his butt off so he wouldn't have to hear you shouting at him again."

This time, Takuro looked offended. "I did not shout."

"Did, too."

"I did not shout at Hisashi!"

"Ne, you might want to repeat that a little louder. I think there were two people in Argentina who did not hear you."

Takuro gave Jiro a dirty look before getting to his feet and paced the studio. "Say, where is Hisashi? He should be here by now, considering he needs the most polishing up. He'd been one helluva mess the last time."

As if on cue, the door flew open and the younger guitarist walked in laughing. Jiro stood up, wanting to meet him with a lighthearted banter like they did. He wanted to let their friends know what four days did to them. His foot took a step forward then stopped because laughing along with Hisashi was Teru. A hot wave of irritation started to gather power inside him.

Takuro gave the two one of his oddest looks. "Would any of you care to share with us what's so funny?"

Hisashi and Teru continued convulse in laughter, totally ignoring the baffled Takuro and Jiro. Hisashi moved closer to Teru, his body colliding against the vocalist as though he could no longer contain the giggles. Casually, Hisashi rested his forehead on Teru's shoulder, making the vocalist repose his on the expanse of soft blue hair. Ire started to dim Jiro's vision.

Not wanting to be sidetracked, Takuro repeated his question. Hisashi managed to reply through the snorts. "I had…a flat tire…on my way here…"

"That's supposed to be funny?" Takuro pointed out.

"No, no…" Hisashi wiped the moist off the corner of his eyes. "I thought that with the tire flat, I could no longer get here in time for practice."

Jiro shook his head. "You could've called--"

"And then Teru came down the road, passing by my car," Hisashi said, cutting Jiro off.

The last words to his sentence deflated into a murmur. "--called me up so I could get you." No one heard him but himself.

"Okay…" Takuro's voice trailed off, inviting Hisashi to continue with the supposedly funny anecdote.

"So I hopped on his car for the dash here. Then right at the intersection a block away, we heard a hiss. And then we realized his tire had gone flat, too!"

"Pfffffftt…" Teru imitated the sound which produced a heartier round of giggles from the small man.

"And then we had to run all the way here!" Hisashi laughed even harder, if that was possible. "Can you believe it? Two flat tires in one day! Wasn't that the funniest thing you've ever heard?"

"Yeah, I'm laughing my ass off," Jiro grumbled under his breath.

Takuro rolled his eyes then drew back his staid leader ego. "Yeah, yeah, funny, funny…but it's time to get serious now. Let's get to work." Leaving no room for protests, Takuro retrieved his guitar and strapped it onto his body. The rest of the band followed suit. The next sounds that emanated from the acoustic room consisted of beats, strums and voices in tune.

Jiro wasn't sure how he was able to play his parts without evidently screwing a note or two. To his comfort, Takuro hadn't said anything though he could catch the leader glancing him a warning eye every now and then. //This wasn't the way I imagined this rehearsal to be.// He had envisioned this session to be entirely differently, to be much livelier, especially now that he and Hisashi had gotten to be closer. The younger guitarist was supposed to lash out those deadly riffs along with Jiro's bass lines and they would make Takuro cry his eyes out with pride at how beautifully they'd played. That was what they did during their private rehearsals and that's what was supposed to happen now. Instead, he found himself playing like it was a chore.

After their first song was through, Takuro approached Jiro and asked in his soothing caring friendly tone, much different from the one he always used during jammings. "You okay?" Jiro nodded with much effort. Takuro looked at him doubtfully. "You sure don't seem like it."

"I didn't screw any note up, did I?'

"None that I actually noticed. You're playing the lines right. You just seem a little…" he searched for the word, "distracted, that's all. And the spark that's always there? I can't see it."

The bassist drew in a deep breath and sighed with the same amount of exertion. "The sleep's just starting to kick in, I guess."

"Would you like to take ten before we continue?"

Jiro shook his head. "I'll be okay."

"You know, just give it a little time. I'm sure you and Reiko will be able to smooth things out."

"I know." But Jiro's gaze was somewhere over Takuro's shoulder to where Hisashi was gabbing with Teru. It was back to the old times; when Hisashi would purposefully overlook his presence, when the most verbal exchange they have was something laced with sharps and flats, when all he could do was sneak Hisashi's images into films while silently pining for the man so out of his reach.

"And then," Takuro went on, inattentive to the direction of Jiro's eyes, "everything will be fine. You'll be okay and happy again." Takuro gently tapped Jiro's shoulder. "I insist we take five before we go on."

Jiro watched the leader's figure walk away. Takuro was right about that part about smoothing things out with Reiko once he'd given it time…if it were the cause of the ache stabbing into him. He looked at Hisashi before shaking his head. //Takuro doesn't know what he's talking about.//

Dejectedly, Jiro sat down on a chair and propped his bass guitar on a thigh. The heavy feeling in his chest was just about starting to diminish along with every tug at the coil. All of a sudden, he stopped at having sensed a gaze directed at him as though he was being checked out. He looked up nonchalantly and made contact with Hisashi's eyes.

Hisashi's fair face remained expressionless. Jiro couldn't even make out a trace of aversion in those deep brown orbs. But then Hisashi smiled at him sweetly, the one smile that seemed to say, 'Hey, I'm here, no need to worry.'

They did not exchange anything more than that. And even in the absence of words, Jiro found himself feeling much better. When practice resumed, Hisashi and Jiro played one of their best.

"Donuts?"

Jiro's rounded eyes shot at him then to the box in his hand. The bassist sighed but didn't deny Hisashi a brief smile. Taking the proffered gift, Jiro then stepped back, accommodating the visit.

"Thanks," Hisashi acknowledged as he made his way inside Jiro's abode, stopping at the center of the living room. He flashed the other man a cheerful smile. "Were you doing anything?"

Jiro shook his head.

"I'm not disturbing you or what?"

Jiro's response was the same.

Hisashi sighed and nervously wrung his fingers. "Are you mad at me?"

For the third time in a row, Jiro moved his head sideways.

"But you're not going to talk to me, are you?"

Jiro slightly grinned. "Why did you use the doorbell?" came the off-tangent question.

A shy smile bloomed on Hisashi's face. "I didn't want to knock on your nose again, that's why. I still won't find it easy to stop apologizing but I beg of you to stop reminding me that." He watched the other man close the door then leave wordlessly for the kitchen. It brought about another round of butterflies in the guitarist's tummy. Perhaps Jiro was angrier than he had expected him to be. //I couldn't blame him. I've been a real ass.// But Hisashi was more than determined not to let it stop there. He didn't come all the way here for nothing. Straightening his spine, he searched for all the courage in his marrow then marched into the kitchen. He knew Jiro would still be there. He just wasn't certain how close the bassist was to the doorway. "Look, Jiro, I came here to talk to you about--"

Jiro spun around. His shoulder smacked onto Hisashi's mouth.

"ITENAAA!" Hisashi yelped. The sudden collision caused his incisors to bite down on his bottom lip. He tasted blood ooze out of the gash.

"Oh, my god." Concern showed in Jiro's eyes. The usually pink kissers were now scarlet. "Daijoubu?"

Hisashi's hand reached up to the injured area and winced.

"Just stay put," Jiro instructed, his hand motioning for the guitarist to settle down at the breakfast stool.

"I'm alright," Hisashi managed to insist but sat down on the chair anyway. He was in great pain but in a way, he liked that it had happened. Jiro's fingers were obviously trembling as he wrapped some ice cubes in a clean dishtowel. For some reason, he felt giddy at the thought of Jiro fussing over his mild accident.

Jiro returned in seconds and gently placed the compress to Hisashi's lips with one hand. The other, he used to anchor his standing self against the countertop.

"Careful, ne?" Hisashi snapped, not being able to control it anymore. "That hurts, you know."

"Well, if you'd just stop squirming all over, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much."

"Maybe if you quit stuffing that thing into my mouth, I'll keep still."

Jiro stopped what he was doing. Gruffly, he set the compress down on the counter then planted both arms on his hips. But he didn't walk away.

Hisashi used the silence to stare unseeingly at Jiro's socked feet. He would've bitten on his lip in regret over snapping at the man nursing him if it weren't already swelling like hell. Jiro was only trying to be nice yet firm. And it was for his own good. Yet, his hardheaded self took over. To think he had come to apologize! //I ought to be ashamed.//

Still not looking up, Hisashi utilized his peripheral vision to see where Jiro had placed the compress. Swiftly, he reached for it, but not fast enough to possess it first. Hisashi quickly jerked his hand away when it came in contact with the bassist's skin. Electricity bolted through the nerves of his arm as though he'd touched a live wire with wet hands. He'd felt something similar only once before, in high school. But that was petty. Compared to that, this one was far and out, and was worth at least a thousand volts.

Jiro's voice drew him back. "I'm sorry," he said to the other man's bowed head, apparently unaware of Hisashi's state of daze. He shifted the compress from one hand to the other. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Hisashi barely found his voice. "It's okay. I shouldn't have yelled at you. And I shouldn't have ignored you."

"What are you talking about?"

It could be that Jiro was just pressuring him enough to juice out a full account and explanation of what had happened earlier, but Hisashi didn't mind the task. He had come here for this purpose. Never mind that it had only been two hours since they parted at the practice studio and the fact that it was already well into the late hours of what remained of the day. He wouldn't be able to sleep without letting the baggage of guilt out. Besides, there was no one else who could hear them.

Taking advantage of the bravado he felt was injected in his veins, he looked up to meet Jiro's face, nearly bumping with the other man's nose. Jiro courteously took a step back. "I guess I was just clammy and all about how Teru and Takuro would react once they've found out how close we've gotten the past few days. Questions would definitely pop out once they see us talking longer than we usually do and I haven't got the foggiest notion how to answer. Takuro wouldn't probably mind. In fact, he might even celebrate and treat us to free booze. But Teru…he just wouldn't stop bugging me for an explanation, and I don't know what to tell him."

Jiro's face remained stoic and for this, Hisashi needed to avoid his eyes once again. He stared at his lap, wondering when the hands resting there had formed into fists. If he didn't already have his nails trimmed short, there would surely be half-moons embedded on his rough palms.

"Why do you care so much about what Teru would think?" Jiro asked pointedly.

"Because…because…" Hisashi couldn't think of a damned thing to say. //Why indeed?//

"So, is that all you have to say to me…you coming down all the way here? Is that it?" Jiro asked when Hisashi had been quiet too long. His voice resonated of austerity.

Hisashi swallowed what he felt was a ball of lump in his throat. "I'm really sorry how I acted back there. I know I must've hurt your feelings. You may think of me as a very bad person but I just thought I'd let you know that I'm not taking you for a ride. And I'm really grateful for all the help you extended to me in those four days. And if you will not speak to me again because of what I've done, it will hurt me like hell because I don't want to go back to the old times, but I'll try my darndest to understand."

Jiro chuckled.

Hisashi couldn't believe it. He cast his eyes again at the now laughing man. His self-control hastened to maximum level. A mouthful of words he'd borrowed from some dumb book and that was all the feedback he could get from the other man? Still, he tried to remember who was the one atoning for an absurd deed. "Why are you laughing?"

Jiro ruffled Hisashi's hair. "It just never occurred to me how talkative you could get when burdened with guilt."

"Oh." A sudden rush of color painted two bright patches on Hisashi's cheeks. //I never blush so easily before.// He bowed. "So…does this mean I'm forgiven?"

Jiro's response began with a deep breath that caused a few strands of blue hair to move in their place. "C'mon, let's get that lip attended to or it'll bloat and ruin your pretty disposition."

"Okay," Hisashi murmured which he doubted had registered in the bassist's mind anyway. He had just about readied himself to meet his face when he felt Jiro's finger curl gently under his chin to raise his head up. Hisashi willingly obliged to the silent command.

Gentle callused fingers nursed his swollen lip as his eyes scanned Jiro's face. There was a faint crinkle between the bassist's brows and front teeth worrying down on the pouty lips. It had been a signature Jiro expression in moments of deep concentration and Hisashi was looking at it close range for the first time. His mind began running a mile a second.

Hisashi marveled at Jiro's hair, enthralled at the four stunning colors of blonde and brown in the luscious mane, and probably a dozen hues or so more. //An artist would have to be crazy not to want to catalogue each one. And his eyes…// Hisashi stared at the two orbs focused on the gash on his own lips. //Haunting and rare, sorrowful yet mysterious…// His mind archived a smile. //Cat-like.//

The guitarist's eyes drifted to the center of the other man's face. Often had he admitted to himself how he envied the perfect contour of Jiro's nose, straight-bridged but cutely curved just at the tip. //And those cheeks, it's the kind that people would just love to grab and pinch.// The bassist's smooth skin didn't go past the observant eyes as well, and how it tapered to a slightly pointed chin. Cupid face. //Well, if Cupid looked THIS good, Zeus better find him another job or the nature's balance would be totally disoriented.//

Hisashi's attention settled down on Jiro's mouth, tracing the sensuous line of his lips. //Pouty, smooth, soft, lush…// He was out of words to describe it, but one thing kept drilling into his mind: he wanted to kiss them. Oh god, how he wanted to brush those lips with his own!

"What are you thinking of?" Jiro asked without much admonition but with full naivete. His eyes stayed honed in on the cut on Hisashi's mouth.

"Uh-uh."

Jiro's mouth quirked into a smile. "Heh, sorry." At Hisashi's state of pain, what else could be expected of the man than the monosyllabic response? But he wanted to ask more or just say anything to make a sound. If they stay any quieter a second more, Hisashi's ears might pick up the heart racing into overdrive from within his chest. "Does it still hurt?"

Same response. "Uh-uh."

One last gentle dab on the wound and Jiro considered the nurturing done. "There we go. Feel any better?" But he never let go of the other man's chin. He didn't want to let go.

"Yeah. Domou."

Silence enveloped them. The world dropped away as they found themselves staring at each other. There could be a thousand and one thoughts swimming in Hisashi's head, none of which probably came near to the sole thing going on in Jiro's mind. //Wasn't this the part in those movies where the guy kisses the girl? Or the girl kisses the guy?// He stared at Hisashi's lips, full and sensual caused by the slight mishap and so close to his own. //Isn't this the time when two people just kiss?//

It was only then that Jiro took his hand back. He drew out his tongue and wet his lips before he heaved a sigh of taxing self-discipline and settled offhand, "I suppose you couldn't do any kissing in the next few days, not with that busted lip of yours. It'll be really painful."

Hisashi self-consciously blinked a few times. "Yeah, I guess. But it's the farthest thing on my mind."

//Not on mine.//

"After all, I haven't got anyone to kiss, have I?"

Jiro cast an apologetic look. "Oh, right. You and Izumi have--"

"Yeah."

"And Reiko and I are still--"

"I know."

Jiro bent his head, pretending interest on the parquet floor if only to avoid contact with Hisashi's gaze. If he had a full mind, he would've known it wouldn't help. Hisashi's hands clasped together on his lap met his sight. Jiro wanted to smack his head silly. He almost did. They had been talking about Hisashi's failed relationship. What the fuck was he thinking dragging he and Reiko into this? And what's with the 'still'? Was it a subliminal way to tell the other man he wasn't going to cheat on his girlfriend? //But if it's Hisashi…//

"Are you okay?" Hisashi asked, scooting just a bit to peek at Jiro.

He raised his eyes to the beautiful man before him. //If it means getting Hisashi, then why does cheating on Reiko feel so right?//

"Jiro?"

The bassist put up a smile. "Who knows? You might get lucky over the weekend. Last time I checked, half of Japan is dying to kiss you."

"And I suppose that doesn't include you."

Jiro laughed nervously. He wanted to tell Hisashi the other half consisted merely of himself, that ever since he could remember, he had longed to caress the very part he nursed to health. But he wasn't sure Hisashi was ready for such brash action, no matter how insinuating the other man sounded. He cleared his throat in recovery. "But then again, with that gash and all--"

"Jiro-chan?"

"Yeah?'

"Have I ever told you I have a very high tolerance for pain?"

"No." Jiro mouthed the word. The sound didn't carry past his trembling lips. He uttered an anguished groan when Hisashi's hand came up to smooth his cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch seemed to infuse him with a debilitating drug that robbed him of the will to move. Jiro could only stand there and absorb the heat emanating from the guitarist as one soaks up the healing rays of the sun. It was a strange drug, for conversely it awakened certain parts of his body while anesthetizing the rest of him, save for one part: the one that willed to resist.

Jiro closed his fingers around Hisashi's wrist and watched the other man's brown eyes go from being glossy with emotion to wide with shock. "Hisa…what are you doing?" he asked gently.

"I just--"

"Is this what you want?"

"I don't know."

Those may have two of the most truthful answers he could have gotten from the pretty man. Inasmuch as he wanted to consider it reason enough, he knew it wouldn't be right. There was no way it was going to happen without hurting Reiko…and without hurting himself.

He had room for just one act of surrender. The rest consisted of words he himself hated saying. "I know how much you're grateful to me for everything I did for you and Ayu for the past few days but you don't have to do this just to show me your gratitude. I helped you out of my own volition. I'm not asking you for anything in return. And unless you're certain of what you want, Hisashi, please don't do this again. I could only take so much torment."

Jiro's fingers slid to cradle the guitarist's hand in his own. He only had ample strength to plant a kiss on the center of Hisashi's palm without breaking down. It was all he could endure.

Hisashi shut his eyes, perhaps to blot out the pang of rejection. Jiro would've caressed the face with his fingers hadn't a sound towed them back to earth.

The doorbell was ringing.

It probably had been wailing for a long time now but none of them really noticed, not in the midst of the predicament they were in. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah," Hisashi replied, his mouth wrenching wryly into a smile. "Go answer the door."

Jiro's eyes lingered on his face for a few seconds more. He didn't want to leave the man without assuring time and again that he was alright, but the bell was just about to scream its chords out. He had to drag himself away.

Hisashi linked his arms across his chest, his heart returning to its plodding, dejected cadence. It beat in time to Jiro's light footsteps taking the man farther from him. It took him a while for the recent scene to sink into him. Where he got his nerve to be the impudent Hisashi he was earlier, he wasn't sure. But he got as far as connoting how much the other man was wanted. Sadly, Jiro didn't seem to think along the same line…or feel the desire garnering in his body.

//'Unless you're certain of what you want,'// he recalled Jiro saying. Hisashi closed his eyes. //What DO I want?//

At a frustrated exhalation of breath, Hisashi opened his eyes. The first thing that caught his gaze was the picture frame sitting atop Jiro's fridge. Slowly he made his way to the appliance, trying to make clear of what the silver frame held with every step that took him nearer to it.

He covered his gaping mouth when he distinguished it; a collage, a recent picture series of two people squeezing inside a small photo booth, laughing, making silly faces, striking a pose.

Jiro and Hisashi.

Together.

It dawned into him. He didn't need to sort out the jungle of feelings in him. He didn't have to find out what drove him this far. Whatever he may discover from a tedious soul-searching might only scare him. Perhaps he wasn't ready for it.

But he wanted to be with Jiro. He craved to feel the other man's skin pricking his own. That much he knew and it seemed enough. Armed with newfound confidence, Hisashi took in a deep breath and straightened for the doorway.

"Jiro, I just--"

Hisashi froze in his place when two pairs of eyes directed at him. One was the set he loved staring at him. The other was of someone's he didn't want to see.

Reiko had settled from the startled reaction when she heard a voice from behind her to a look of surprise. She tried to hide it anyway. "Oh, Tonomura-san. Konban wa."

"Konban wa," Hisashi was barely able to utter. It would be stupid not to think Reiko wasn't shocked to see him in Jiro's house.

Reiko aimed her gaze from Hisashi to Jiro back to the guitarist, to zero in again on the bassist. "Gomen ne. I didn't realize you weren't alone."

"No, no!" Hisashi cried, just before Jiro could produce a sound. "I was just leaving. Actually, I only dropped by upon Takuro's orders to give Jiro some music scores."

Reiko nodded then asked out of politeness. "How's the new album coming along?"

"It's fine. If nothing untoward happens, we'll be recording by next week. Or at least Takuro hopes so."

"I see…"

Hisashi squared his shoulders. "I guess I better get going then. The cat's probably missing me like hell." He walked past the couple to get to the jacket he'd taken off and draped over the couch, but he tried to see Jiro's reaction just before he carried out the task. Only the two of them knew where Ayu really was. "Ne, thanks for the glass of water again, Jiro-san."

Jiro proved to be a damn good actor, but Hisashi didn't miss the faint tinge of pain at the familiar he'd used. "What time is the meeting tomorrow?" he asked in a business-like tone, something Hisashi hadn't heard for a while.

"Noon." He had to match Jiro's impersonal tone.

"At the studio?"

He arched a brow. "Have we ever had a meeting anywhere else?" Instead of the usual grunt he gets whenever he pulls on his peevish self at the man, Hisashi received a smile instead. Not a cheeky, full grin but just a slight curving on Jiro's face. But it was a smile so unnerving, as though the bassist was still smiling at him even if he no longer was. He perceived it to mean as one of gratitude. It was comforting.

"Mata ashita," Jiro bid.

"Mata ashita."

Jiro closed the door almost as soon as Hisashi exited through the doorway. //Maybe they're in a hurry to get right down to struggle out of their clothes//, he thought, but in a way he was glad Jiro had done so. He had reason enough to linger, straining his ear to listen to what was going on inside, committing his emotions to be trampled upon. He was asking for it.

"Aren't you going to kiss me 'hello', Koi?" Hisashi heard Reiko's muffled voice from behind the vertical piece of lumber that had just separated him from the one person he wanted to be with.

A long period of silence came, followed by the indistinct rustle of fabric.

//He's kissing her!// Hisashi's mouth went dry and moisture pooled in his eyes, threatening to fall at any given time. //What could be so wrong about a boyfriend kissing his girlfriend?// A drop gave way and trickled down his face. //But it should've been me.//

Hisashi felt pangs of unexplainable pain lance through his chest. He needed to get away, fast, before anyone would realize he had hung around long enough to invite misery. Light running steps took him to his car. He was surprised to discover he had gotten home without running into Death. Blurry eyes are hazardous when driving.

part 6