J is thinking about Inoran. ...naughty in only the very vaguest of ways. Written some time ago.
When did you get so close to me? You're always under my skin, just curled up there like a little cat. Even when I'm with some girl or another, I look at things, and I think--"Hey, Ino'd like that." So you're always with me. Somehow, though, I don't mind. You're comfortable. If you were, I don't know, Sugizo or Ryuichi or someone like that, I think I'd hate it, because you'd disturb my way of thinking, but you're just Ino, and I've known you forever. You're part of me. During the lives, you're always right up there with me, shoulder to shoulder, back to back. Rhythm and bass. Let the lead guitarist take his glory, and the singer can strut all he'd like.
We're happy just hanging out, right? Then why do I always feel like there's something you aren't saying? Why do I catch you staring off into nothing with that little, somehow disgruntled smile when we're talking? I can't claim I understand everything about you.
Especially not now.
Ino...talk to me. I need to hear your soft, low voice explaining what's going on in your head. I'll listen, and then I'll tell you what I think, just like I always have. Then we'll laugh, and share a drink. Maybe sit andwatch a movie together. You might fall asleep with your head on my shoulder, snoring lightly. I'll just stay up until dawn watching static and reruns, if I have to, just so you stay sleeping, right there, right with me. It's a perfect expression of our friendship.
Quiet, peaceful, eternal. Well, past the rough beginnings, of course, but who expects high schoolers to be perfect?
We just haven't changed much, have we? The whole big rockstar thing, hey, it's fun. I love it, and so do you. We wouldn't be here otherwise, slamming our guitars and playing to the fans. Still crazy, even after almost a decade of doing this.
We've been together longer than that.
Odd to think, sometimes, but true.
Damn it, Inoran. Why don't you ever say anything? You're always so close to me, but never quite close enough. Sometimes we're just centimetres apart over a microphone, close enough to share a breath, and I swear, if you ever got that close when we were alone, I'd kiss you. Kiss you...
I wonder what you'd do. Would you be surprised? Shocked? Would you be happy, and smile at me shyly, maybe wrap your arms around me? You'd taste like smoke--smoke and tears.
I won't think about it. You have to tell me, Ino. I won't change our friendship for something this silly, this... capricious. But I'll wait. I've always waited. Waited after school, waited after work, waited, more or less patiently while you sorted your girlfriends and boyfriends and everything else out.
But I'm still here, aren't I?
I'll always be here, no matter whether you get your kiss or not.