They’ll name a city after us
                                                                                By Shadowmancer
   
  
You want a story? I’ve got one. It’s long, but it shouldn’t take a whole night to tell. After all, I’m only giving you snippets, as the human brain is funny like that; we pick things up and lose things along the way.
The beginning, ah yes, that must have been, god, 20 years ago more or less, on a dark, cold night in April. Sounds a bit melodramatic I know, but that’s how our two main characters met, on a dark, cold night in April. There was a slight drizzle, and the lights were way too harsh. They were introduced to each other, friend of a friend, quick glances over a buzzing crowd. First impressions didn’t go much beyond ‘were those eyes even real? Frreaaaaky’, and ‘hello there you giant beanpole of a man’. The names didn’t stick, washed away by booze and chatting.
Then they bumped into each other again, local music festival. Well they called it that, more like a bunch of kids garage banding it, and another bunch of kids pretended to be interested in the noise. Freaky eyes dude was a vocal, and his voice was like 3 octaves lower than Tora, aka giant beanpole expected. And once you got over the initial shock, it was surprisingly nice. Not nice as in wow I’d buy all his future CDs, but nice in a kid had potentials way.
The said vocal had a few things to say about Tora too, in fact, his first words were hey, that’s actually some pretty impressive riffs. Tora gave him his best evil eye; the opponent was utterly unfazed and puffed out a laugh,
‘Oh please, don’t pretend you didn’t get into a band to get laid. And looking at the crowd out there? You’ve got that well covered.'
Tora had no clever retort to that, so he caught the guy’s outstretched hand in a firm shake.
‘I like you already.’
‘Yeah you too,' Freaky Eyes turned the handshake into a shoulder punch,
‘Forgot your name, mine’s Shou.'
‘Tora.'


Yes yes we’re getting to the actual beginning of the story. Guy met another guy, they got on with their respective lives. Until over a period of one week, both of their bands dissolved; people grew up, people moved on, while others chose to stay, simple enough logic. Now Tora, he’s never been a quitter. And quite frankly, that’s the only thing he’s good at. If you’d take that away from him, where would he be? Free-lancing at the local garage? Well he’d have time for that after he’s hit an absolute lead wall in music.
He’s heard the news about Shou’s band, it’s a small town. So he thought what the hell and dialled, the conversation was short and to the point. Shou’s answer was why not? Can’t hurt to try.
Now that was givuss, their first band together. It’s not all that great, but it’s going some where, they could both feel it. Then bang everything went back to ground zero again. Givuss had their last live, tears were shed (manly ones of course), goodbyes were said, and there were decisions to be made. Not much they could do in this town really; they’ve practically exhausted their resources. You just wouldn’t get drummers or bassists floating around in a place like this, waiting to be picked. The next, or the only option, was to leave, to go somewhere big. Burn the bridges and dive into the deep end, so to speak.
That’s what they chose in the end, after a few nights of seeking answers in a bottle, and long chats, or in some cases, swearing contests with the family, they packed up their earthly possessions---guitars, clothes, money, and Shou’s ancient notepad. He’d write like a junkie constantly needing a shot, just opening up the battered book and stab a few lines in. The bus journey out of town was silent except for Shou’s quiet humming; could have been New York, New York, seemed fitting. They both dozed off soon afterwards, drooling a little over each other’s shoulders.


Tora honest to god freaked. He dragged Shou out of bed at some inhuman hours in the morning, and tried to explain. The words would not come, his lips were shaking as bad as his hand but no sounds came out. Somehow the landed goldfish act must have made sense in Shou’s head, because the next thing Tora knew, they were driving to the nearest hospital, possibly breaking every traffic law there was along the way.  
The doctors did a scan, took some bloods, pumped him full of sedatives, and gave him a collar to stabilize his neck. Just before they left Tora in peace, they took Shou outside to have a word. Half of what they said didn’t even make sense, but Shou clutched at the nearest man’s sleeves with all the faith of a dying priest,
‘I don’t care, just…fix him, please. Anything.'
It’s as close to crying as Shou ever remembered feeling, and the words clattered to the ground like broken glass.
There was no quick fix of course; bed rest, no strenuous exercise for at least a few months, or he might have to say goodbye to guitar playing for good. That's the doctor's advice, didn't mean Tora had to take it. He gave himself a week, then demanded back in.
Everyone objected, verbally or even physically, everyone but Shou.
Shou listened to Tora stammering out his excuses, took a deep breathe, and asked for a cigarette.
‘You don't even smoke,'Tora gawped.
‘Doesn't mean I can't, now give me that damn cigarette.


Tora fished out the pack hidden underneath his pillows, Shou lit up, took a long drag, his gaze fixed onto the bedside window. After what felt like a century, he turned around, stubbing out the smoke, his upper lip quirked a little,
‘Stubborn bastard, ‘Shou muttered, ‘It’s your choice mate, if you’re gonna take that leap, the least I can do is stick by you. What’s the saying, it’s better to burn out than fade away huh?’
Tora laughed,
‘Knew you’d see my logic.'
‘Not logic, madness. Madness makes the world go round, didn’t you know?'
So there is that.
There are times in your life which you could look back and pinpoint the exact moment when things changed; took a wrong turn, or a right one, and everything after that morphed into a different shape.
There was no such milestone in their friendship, at least, nothing they could put their finger on. OK, there was one occasion, if Tora had to choose, that could be termed ‘the beginning of a slippery slope’.


It started off just like any other day, 5 people crammed into a tour bus, moving from city to city, oh the joy of touring. They got their own bunk, but 2 people had to share a room, nothing new here. Tora and Shou were sharing, because the vocal needed his rest, and sharing with Tora was like sharing with a statue. Once you equipped him with a game boy, he’d stay in the same spot, with the same pose, wearing the same facial expressions till his bladder dragged him away. No sound, no movement, perfect.
Shou’s been his normal self, flipping through the notepad, pacing the small space back and forth, mumbling to empty air. Tora blocked most of it out, until he felt the bed dip and nearly jumped. Shou was carelessly shoving his stuff away from the bed.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like genius?’ I need somewhere to sit.
‘Your bed is up there, or even better, go to the kitchen.'
‘Aww you’re throwing me out of your bed?' Shou pouted.
Tora sighed, ‘go abuse your own bunk.'
‘But yours is nicer,'Shou insisted,‘I can’t concentrate on my bed, it’s bumpy.'
Tora didn’t bother with a reply, just moved his feet out of the way. The other gave a victorious war cry and threw himself across the covers.


Three hours later, with Shou curled up in a ball by his knees, the notepad completely forgotten, Tora seriously considered moving 6 feet of dead weight off his bed, then wisely gave up and just flipped the lights out.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, Tora was woken up by some persistent tugging. He growled out a HMM? by ways of questioning, and received an equally elaborate reply.
‘M cold, shove over.'
Too tired to argue, Tora simply rolled with the tugging, and almost fell instantly back to sleep.
It’s not until the next morning did he realise that they were both under the covers, spooning. What’s more insulting, he’s the little spoon. Shou, still oblivious, was breathing even and warm down his nape.
That’s when Hiroto chose to budge in, who took one look at them both, then grinned from ear to ear,
‘Morning mum~~~’
Tora gave him the finger; the small guitarist disappeared with a string of mad giggles.
As if sensing Tora’s plan of escape, Shou subconsciously tightened his loose hold. Tora froze on the spot; that’s DEFINITELY not Shou’s notepad digging into his ass.
OK, awkward. Tora cursed a blue streak under his breath. He’s not Saga, there was only so much groping, intentionally or not, he could take from his band mates. Damn it.
By the time Tora returned from the bathroom, having got over the oh-shit-did-my-BFF-just-hump-me-in-his-sleep moment, Shou's turned onto his stomach, dead to the world again, and predictably hogged all the covers.


Tora had the uncontrollable urge to kick his as s all the way to next Tuesday: there went his hope for some more lie-in.
Oh well, friction was friction, nothing worth giving himself an ulcer over. Tora told his brain to shut up hen climbed into the other bed.
He didn’t think of the incident again.
Much.
Tora would like to label himself as casually bisexual, emphasis on casual. Because hello? Boobs were awesome, he loved them as much as the next guy. But he wouldn’t say no to the other team entirely. Put it this way, you’d discover new things about yourself too if you got drunk, or high, or both on a regular basis, part of the job description.
Shou’s neither bi nor casual, he’s a monk.
After all these years of living in each other’s back pockets, Tora’s never, ever, walked in on him mid-action. The only love triangle he’s involved in, Tora would swear, was him, his left hand, and his right hand. Tora wasn’t even sure if he watched por* or not, he’d sure as hell hope so, or Shou’s always been a REALLY flat-chested girl. Except that now Tora knew Shou wasn’t, had some solid, no pun intended, proof too.


Okay not going there again.
See, now he’s intrigued, he just couldn’t let it go. There’s an analogy there somewhere about a dog and a bone but whatever, curiosity was chipping away at his brain. He’s never paid attention before, well he simply assumed a guy in his prime, with a functional engine block, and a hectic life, would behave in exactly the same way as himself, translating to getting laid at every opportunity possible, one more good shag for the road baby.
Well, just another tick in the list of ‘why Shou’s a total freak’.
In the end Tora blurted the question out over a beer, never been good at keeping things to himself,
‘Hey, you got a girl waiting for you back home or something?'
‘No, why?’ Shou frowned a bit.
‘A guy, then?'
‘Well, not any more. Again, what’s with the sudden interrogation, officer? ‘
New info, but nothing too shocking there. At least Shou sounded far from bitter.
‘Just wondering, ‘s all. Never seen you with anyone. You saving it all up for the wedding night?’ Tora sneered.
‘Well no,‘Shou shook his head,‘just prefer to know the person I’m sleeping with.'
‘Don’t tell me you believe in THE ONE,' Tora chuckled,‘you big romantic sap.’
‘Not necessarily that, but some people are capable of making emotional connections, my friend.' Shou deadpanned,
‘And trust me, the s*x is better that way.'
Tora breathed through pursed lips, eyes rolling heavenwards,
‘Sure, Keep telling yourself that.'
Shou smiled and drained his drink, looking far too smug for Tora’s liking, but he let it slide.


‘Now this, is some seriously smooth whiskey, you’ve been holding out on us haven’t you? Sneaky bastard.'
‘What can I say, I do appreciate the finer things, just in moderation. ‘
‘F*ck moderation tonight.’
Tora poured another glass and passed the bottle back, Shou didn’t even hesitate, just grabbed the whole thing and took a long gulp, straight from the bottle. Tora almost toppled over with laughter,
‘You are weird, you know that? It’s like I’ve known you all my life and you still surprise me, from time to time. ‘
They ended up sitting on the plump carpet, more room to stretch out, and leaned their backs against the sofa. The curtains were drawn back, huge French windows shielding them from the chill, the moon a stark contrast against the inky background of the sky and the sea. The scenery’s almost surreal; Tora was wrecking his brain for a suitable adjective, when Shou breathed out beside him in awe,
‘Look, look at that, pale like the bleached bones of a mermaid, hung up to dry. ‘
If all those years taught Tora one thing, it’s to be prepared for all those bursts of disturbing thoughts from his friend. He merely snorted, reaching over to cover Shou’s eyes.


‘You know what they say about staring at the moon?   Makes you crazy.’
‘Who says I’m sane?’
Shou’s eyelashes tickled his palm; it’s a funny sensation, like trapping a wild thing with his bare hands, that jittery feeling.
Thing about good whiskey was that it’s a slow drag, spiralling downwards, by the time you started thinking of maybe stopping, your limbs and brain cells have been cooked through by the shimmering burn. At least that’s the case for Tora, who woke up sticky and still drunk, sprawled out on the floor with a heavy weight warm on top of him. Sun light was peering in from the window, and there were more than one empty bottles scattered around. He didn’t realise what had happened the night before, until he felt a breeze down below.
His zip was open, and his shirt was rolled up to his armpits, and that was Shou’s goddamn hand stuffed down his pants, an intimate heat against his bare skin.
He didn’t mean to freak out or anything, just maybe dislodged Shou off his chest a bit more frantically than necessary. Shou landed with a pained groan, and 5 seconds later said in a different voice,
‘Oh.’


Tora was too busy tucking himself in, he cradled his skull in his sweaty palms, trying very hard to breathe.
Shou sat up, Tora heard him squirming around, soft rustling noises, followed by silence. By the time he spoke again his voice was deceptively calm.
‘Well, I sure as hell don’t wake up to this every day.'
No shit Sherlock, Tora wanted to say but kept his mouth firmly shut. He did risk a glance at Shou’s direction; the other’s face was all scrunched up.
‘God this is f*cked up, you're…you're like a brother to me, and this is just not done.’
‘Jeez, thanks for that mental image.’ Tora almost shuddered. Shou threw him a look, scrubbed a hand over his own face and got off the floor,
‘Coffee first, no talking until then. Come on.’
Coffee sounded fantastic, especially coming from Shou’s expensive coffee maker. The day has inevitably gone to hell, but Tora could not fault such a suggestion.  
When their bellies were full of fresh, hot caffeine, Shou cleared his throat,
‘So, are we okay?’
‘Doesn’t bother me. ’ Tora muttered, his eyes gritty and dry, itching for a good rub, but he dared not move.
Shou didn’t say anything for one long, excruciating minute, then finally nodded, jerky and short.


For a while they really were okay, the whole thing was like a bad dream fading into mere shadows. Shou decided that he needed a break from the music scene, so he mostly stayed in his seaside house; he’d draw occasionally, another skill he picked up along the way, but had never quite sat down and made use of. Now he had all the time in the world, so he painted the blue and the gold of the morning shore, the red and the orange of the sinking sun. It's pretty liberating.  
Tora, on the other hand, plunged right back into the vibrant life of a rock star; booze, women, crowds, the company kept him occupied. He still wrote music, pages after pages of notes with no one to come and fill in the words; he released a solo CD like that, 40 minutes of pure instrumentals. It sold alright, nothing spectacular, he wasn’t expecting it to---it’s more for self-indulgence than profits anyways, could damn well do as he pleased these days.   He half heartedly thought about starting another band, but it stayed just that, a thought. All the restlessness of his youth seemed to have finally burned out of him.
Shou would drive up the coast and visit him when he felt like it. Every time he came Tora would notice something different about him. Sure, he’s less…polished now that the spot light has rolled away: less gel in his hair, not a trace of makeup, been skipping the shaving duty too, nothing much, just a light dusting of stubbles along his jaw line. He’d have sent their old makeup artist into a right fit.


That’s all the obvious ones, but Tora also noticed other trivial things, like Shou’s old rings have all disappeared; he used to wear one on every other finger, big chunky things, now all that’s left was a plain silver band on his left index finger. Shou explained that he’s learning to play the piano, the rings got in the way. Never knew you’re into classical music, Tora said.
‘S what I grew up with really; my parents have always been big fans. Feels nice to just fall back into it.'
He changed his cologne too, something breezy, barely there, gone were the old spicy tones. His piercings were still intact but the studs in his ears were more subdued, small stones that didn’t glitter. Little pieces of information which Tora would never have noticed before, or rather, never thought worth remebering, as Shou’s always there in person, day in day out, to remind him. Now he’d show up once a month, with all these altered details. It simultaneously fascinated and scared Tora, he's paranoid that one day he'd open the doors, and there would be a complete stranger standing in the old Shou's spot.
He didn’t realise how much he relied on Shou being the one constant in his life.
What’s even worse, he feared that he might be the one who put the stranger there in the first place.
  

Shou tried to be the good friend he always had been.
He really did.
But some delicate balance had been disrupted, a fine line crossed, things just wouldn’t be the same, no matter how desperately he wanted them to be. Neither of them has forgotten, yet both were eager to pretend, and ended up over-doing it. They’ve never been touch-feely type of guys, but there had always been an arm casually thrown over a shoulder, a punch or a kick when they’re annoyed, a quick slap 0R nudge when they wanted the other’s attention. Now they occupied the opposite ends of a couch, and kept their limbs strictly to themselves, no easy task for two tall men. The old banter they used to toss around without a second thought now became a minefield, no more ‘you’re the wife, no you are the wife!’ operating on autopilot.
The staring was the worst part.
Tora’s the one doing it; he thought he’s been discrete, only looked when Shou’s turned away. But anyone who’s ever had a pair of eyes burning holes into their back would tell you, it’s f*cking obvious. And what on earth was in that gaze? It’s not disgust, or embarrassment, or confusion, or even l u st, it’s just quiet observation, like Tora’s deciding what to do with him, cataloguing bits of Shou into neat boxes.
It’s plain unsettling, that’s what it was. Shou felt like a suspect who should buckle under the intensity, but he didn’t even know what the frigging cr*me was.