CONFUSION

by Mako

Comments: This comes after 'Desire' which came after 'Pain'. Confusing,
ne? Well, Comments and Critique very much appreciated, if anybody is
actually reading my story which I highly doubt. Oh well, at least I can
pretend, right? Hehe... I'm sorry that it's short, I tried to make this
one long, but it didn't really work out. Also, sorry if it's confusing,
the POV kinda changes halfway through the story... I'm trying to get
this done before I have to go back to school. I have this really boring
class early in the morning and I can't drop it 'cause it's required...
o! Sorry! Um, here's the story...
Hope you like it. ^^
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    Hisashi sighed. He wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what Jiro was doing,
stringing him along. But he couldn't help it. Sometimes, when Jiro
leaned in a little too close, when his lips almost brushed against his
cheek, Hisashi could just close his eyes and pretend that somehow Jiro
loved him too. And then, he would open them and see Jiro watching him and
he knew that he was giving himself away. But, at those times, he didn't
care. "Reckless, Hisashi, stupid..." he chided himself.
   
    Two days ago, he... god, was it only two? It felt like at least a
month... Two days ago, he had gotten deliriously drunk. He didn't even know
where he was, he must have wandered off somewhere. The next thing he
knew, Teru and Takuro had appeared out of nowhere and were dragging him
to their car.
   
    Somewhere between getting shoved in the back seat and feeling like he
was gonna barf his entrails out, he had gotten comfortable. It took him
a while before his brain finally registered the soft whispers from the
front seat. He watched his two band mates curiously. Teru leaned over,
murmuring something to Takuro, their hands barely brushing. Takuro
smiled shyly as he agreed to whatever Teru had said. Then Teru, blushing a
little, leaned a little more towards Takuro who, red-faced, leaned a
little back towards Teru.
   
    Hisashi smiled softly. Ah, they were good for each other. But what
about Jiro? He had heard that he and Teru had broken up, was Jiro all
right? Hisashi frowned. Even if Jiro wasn't all right, he wouldn't want
Hisashi's help or even his sympathy.
   
    Before he could drown himself in his miseries any further, the car
came to a stop. Good thing too, Hisashi didn't think he could hold back
the rising bile in his throat any longer. He hobbled out of the car and
proceeded to puke his guts out. Teru and Takuro hovered worriedly behind
him, but he waved them to go on inside as it appeared that he wasn't
going to finish anytime soon. Takuro patted his back sympathetically and
told him to come in when he was ready.
   
    He couldn't have been long because when he went in, Takuro and Teru
were still in the kitchen laughing hysterically. He walked over to the
side bathroom and tried to clean himself as best he could. When he was
done, Teru and Takuro were both still in hysterics. Hisashi walked over
to the kitchen to see what was so funny. And he froze.
   
    Seated on the kitchen counter was Jiro, ice cream smeared all over his
nose and mouth, dripping from one hand and an almost empty container in
the other. Hisashi resisted the urge to smirk as Jiro pouted at the
retreating backs of Teru and Takuro and shoved another handful of ice
cream in his mouth.
   
    Suddenly, Jiro looked up, seeing him. Jiro frowned and he looked
frighteningly mad, but then suddenly, his eyes crinkled up and he looked
like he was about to cry. Then he began mumbling something over and over.
Hisashi edged forward, trying to catch the words.
   
    "Stupid, stupid, stupid..." Jiro mumbled miserably to himself, his
eyes downcast, eyebrows drawn together.
   
    "No," Hisashi said before he could stop himself. Jiro looked up, his
big, dark eyes shining with frustration. And Hisashi promptly fell into
their deep, dark depths. Without thinking, his hand lifted up to touch
Jiro's cheek and he heard himself say, “no, not stupid..." And, as he
looked at Jiro's face, sticky remnants of the ice cream all over his
nose and his beautiful pouty lips, Hisashi said the first thing that came
to mind, "... kawaii..."
   
    Jiro's widening eyes and soft gasp were what pulled Hisashi out of his
trance. Shit, he called Jiro _kawaii_, he was going to die. He pulled
away, fingers still tingling from their contact with Jiro's cheek, and
he hobbled away as fast as he could out of the room.
   
    The next day, Hisashi slipped out of the house before anyone else woke
up. From then on, he tried to avoid Jiro, he even refused to looked at
him. But... sometimes he'd look up- just to steal a glance at him- and
he'd find that Jiro was looking back. Then Hisashi would turn beet-red
and race out of the room trying to stay as far away from Jiro as
possible.
   
    Which brought him to this predicament.
   
    He couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to for a while, but it seemed
the further he stayed away from Jiro, the worse they got, his dreams.
They were the whole reason he had gotten so horribly drunk in the first
place. Dreams of Jiro, soft lips, gentle caresses...
   
    Hisashi would wake up every five minutes drenched in sweat, incredibly
aroused. No, he couldn't sleep, not with those dreams. So he had gotten
drunk, the best way, in his opinion, to utter oblivion where no dreams
of beautiful, dark eyes and pouty lips could torment him. Only, it
hadn't worked. Maybe he hadn't drunk enough. Maybe he had drank a little
too much. Either way, he had overstepped his bounds, given too much away,
forcing him to keep a distance, making the dreams even worse.
   
    Hisashi sighed again and got up from his bed. Sleeping pills, he could
get some... maybe they would work...
   
    Hisashi groaned and rubbed his forehead. His head was a mess. These
days he wasn't even really sure what he felt for the orange-haired
bassist; if he loved him for all his adorable cuteness, passion, and that
pout... or if he hated him for torturing him like this.
   
    Hisashi sighed for the third time and flopped onto his bed. He buried
his head in the pillow. He'd try just one more time, maybe this time he
wouldn't dream...
   
~
   

    Jiro groaned as he flopped on to the coach. He hated him. He hated the
way his mind totally blanked whenever he entered the room and the way
the only thing his mind seemed to be able to register was the word
'stupid'... over and over again. He hated him, he was sure of it. Why else
would his stomach knot up at the sight of him and why else would he
start sweating like a teenage boy on his first date whenever he was near?
   
    Takuro and Teru had left saying that Jiro and Hisashi needed to have
sometime together to work out their difference, they didn't seem to be
getting along very well lately.
   
    Jiro snorted. He knew the real reason they left. They just wanted to
go some place and fuck like rabbits. It was a relief too, they’d been
pawing at each other all day.
   
    Jiro had actually tried to talk a little with Hisashi, that way he
couldn't say he didn’t try. But all he got were one word answers, a raised
eyebrow and a shrug. Damn him. He thought that Hisashi was supposed to
like him. When you like someone, weren't you nice to them? Jiro had
expected something of Hisashi, an apology, a blush, maybe even a smile,
especially after... after...
   
    Jiro raised a hand to his cheek. Sometimes he swore he could still
feel it tingling.
   
    His hand traveled down to rest against his lips. What... what would it
feel like, to kiss him? Those thin lips, would they be hard? Demanding?
Or maybe...
   
    Jiro shook his head and growled. What right did Hisashi have to do
this to him? What right? he dropped his hand down from his face. _How_ did
Hisashi do this to him?
   
    The bastard! He'd pay for this! Making me think that way about him...!
   
    Jiro jumped up, hell-bent on getting Hisashi back for doing this,
whatever it was, to him. He marched around, looking for Hisashi. He looked
all around the studio but he couldn't find him. How was that possible?
Unless... unless he left...? Jiro looked around outside. Damn, he must
have.
   
    Jiro dejectedly re-entered the studio preparing to go home until he
heard a noise from the back room. He paused. It wasn't a noise, really,
it could have been anything, a mouse, the wind, it was so soft. But he
heard it again, so he headed towards it.
   
    He hesitated right outside the door, hearing a soft, barely
recognizable whimper. He shook his head and entered.
   
    Hisashi was inside. Jiro almost smacked himself, he's forgotten to
check back here. Hisashi was slumped in a chair, his head thrown back,
asleep. He'd looked more and more weary these days and Jiro, in spite of
himself, had found himself worrying about him.
   
    A noise stirred Jiro from his thoughts. Hisashi shifted a little in
his sleep, a soft moan escaping his lips. Jiro watched, fascinated, as
Hisashi's back arched into an invisible caress, his lips parted slightly,
his breath harsh and irregular.
   
    Suddenly Hisashi snapped awake and Jiro reflexively stepped back
behind the door frame. He watched Hisashi’s face as the thin eyebrows drew
together in pain, as his body slumped forward and hands reached up to
cover his face. Hisashi groaned and then, a faint, heart-wrenching
whisper.
   
    "... Jiro..."
   
    Jiro leaned against the wall, trying to control his breathing, trying
to control his suddenly rapidly beating heart.
   
    ... he caused this pain?
   
    Jiro started shaking. God dammit, not again...
   
    Suddenly he heard a car, several cars, actually, pull up outside and
he heard yelling and shuffling as people entered the studio. Jiro
frowned, thinking. Oh yeah, the costumes, he had forgotten.
   
    He forced himself to get up and walk over to the swarming mass of
people around the studio. Immediately, he was assaulted with questions. He
answered as best he could, his mind half frozen from the scene he had
witnessed earlier.
   
    "Y-yeah, he’s in the back. No, they're not here, they left early.
Here, just put it over there, yeah, I'll tell them. Thanks. Oh, no
problem..."
   
    He made his way over to the back room to inspect his own costumes, see
if anything needed fixing. The room was a mess, boxes and clothes
strewn around. He frowned. They'd better clean it up, he wasn't going to. He
swam through the boxes, papers and clothes over to where his costumes
were, just barely managing to escape from knocking down a huge mountain
of boxes. He yelped, tripping over a stray piece of cloth. He balanced
precariously on edge before he thankfully managed to gain his balance.
He looked up to see if anyone had seen his rather embarrassing feat of
acrobatics. What he saw froze him in place.
   
    Hisashi stood there. He'd obviously been trying on his costumes
because he was bare-chested, his shirt carelessly thrown on the floor
somewhere over there. Thankfully, he had his pants on, but still. Hisashi
turned to see Jiro staring at him and he immediately became a rather pretty
shade of pink. Jiro's eyes raked over his body. Funny how he never
noticed how dark Hisashi was in comparison to himself. Or how sexy he
was...
   
    He looked up into Hisashi's eyes and saw it again, that desire. He
swallowed, barely hearing the yells of the people rushing by the room.
And then everything faded, save for the memory of a single, broken
whisper...
   
    ...Jiro...
   
    He lost it then.
   
    And though in confusion of the room, he slammed Hisashi up against the
wall and kissed him. Hard. Their noses bumped, his hands tangles in the
spiky blue strands of hair, his lips crushing the other's beneath him.
   
    Suddenly he broke away, hearing something break outside the room. He
stared at Hisashi, those dark, vulnerable eyes watching him, those
kiss-bruised lips parted slightly, ragged breathing.
   
    And Jiro did the only thing he could think of.
   
    He ran.
   
    Hisashi watched Jiro's retreating back. He slumped down against the
wall, hands covering his face, wishing that he could let out this tangle
of confused emotions, wishing that he could ease the sudden pain in his
heart. But that was impossible. These days he couldn't sleep, the pain
and desire blocked everything, it hurt too much to smile. He couldn't
laugh either.
   
    Hisashi buried his face further into his hands, a small groan of
frustration escaping his lips.
   

    These days, he couldn't even cry...


   
    ~To be continued~   

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