Title: Endless Rain

Author: Mizery Rose

Summary: In an attempt to outrun himself, his past, and all that he feels are the sources of his troubles, a 19 year-old American boy moves across the ocean, and half-way across the world to a place he knows nothing about, and a place that knows nothing about him. This is his story.

Disclaimer (Claimer?): All the characters in this work come from my head, and any likenesses to real life people, or characters from other stories, are purely coincidental. This story carries a homosexual tone, and for those of you who enjoy catchy anime words, "yaoi". This story is rated PG-13 for content, i.e. references to homosexuality, drugs, drinking, etc., as well as language, i.e. cursing. The title is taken from X-Japan's "Endless Rain". Lovely song, by an exquisite group.

Author's notes: Yes, I know I didn't go into detail about driving the boy home. That just kept dragging me down, because I kept changing how I wanted that part of the story to go. So, I decided to skip it. Nothing really important would have happened, anyways, and I think its better to keep going with the story rather than letting that trip me up. This chapter is named after "Truffles" by Wheatus. Why? Because I love this song, and I think it kind of goes with the beat of this particular chapter.

"Me, I'm just another gringo.

A bitter jalepeño."

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Chapter 3 -- Truffles

It was a week since the incident in the cafe. A week. It seemed like more. It seemed like less. In the past seven days, I hadn't encountered the boy again. That both comforted and un-nerved me. It was good to know that I didn't have another person to deal with now. Getting Koetsu to keep quiet about me was enough work. You'd think that with how often he insulted me, he'd want his friends to think he had nothing to do with me. No such luck. What was un-nerving about the entire situation was that despite my lack of contact with the boy, my thoughts still drifted towards him occasionally.

I solved that problem by keeping busy. I had enough to do, that it worked. For a while, anyways. Changing identities is tough. I managed to keep from the prying eyes of Koetsu's minions (after all, they had to be minions; there was no way such an asshole could have that many friends), much thanks to door locks and strategically timed bathroom breaks.

Moving from Denver to Tokyo was a big enough change, I had figured, to throw off any suspicions about me. I hadn't counted on the fact that a red-haired, green-eyed American was somewhat of a novelty there. I guess I'd lived so long in such a cultured atmosphere that I had forgotten that not the rest of the world was quite so accepting. Then again, I guess neither was the area I had come from. I shuddered, momentarily remembering the headlines that haunted me constantly. Laramie, Wyoming. I never wanted to hear of the place again.

Pulling on a black beanie over my red hair and slipping on a pair of dark sunglasses, I took a moment to judge my appearence in the mirror. I still didn't look like a Japanese businessman, but I figured that most people in the know would just pass me off as another teenage X-Japan fan. Which, all things considered, wasn't completely un-true. I stepped out of my room, being sure to shut the door behind me and checking that I had my keys. Without bothering to say goodbye to Koetsu or whoever he had over at the moment, I slipped on my shoes and was out the door.

I knew enough by now, that no one in their right mind would drive anywhere in this city. Actually, that was probably a good thing, considering I didn't have a car here, and I'd probably end up driving on the wrong side of the road anyways. Then again, this blessing was certainly disguised, as I always have had horrid luck with busses. Trains though, I figured I could decipher. I was wrong. After stepping into a train that was headed in the general direction of where I wanted to go, I found myself packed among an odd assortment of folks. There weren't many business-men aboard thankfully, as most of them were at their 9 to 5s, or 7 to 7s, already. However, there was an elderly couple staring at me, and it kind of creeped me out.

After shifting to an area I was more comfortable in, with numerous "gomen nasai"s, I bussied myself with attempting to figure out the bus schedual. The trouble was, I couldn't read kanji for beans, and so I was about as lost as I would have been if I knew no Japanese whatsoever. "Fuck..." I muttered under my breath, looking around the compartment hastily to see if there was anyone who looked un-occupied enough to help me. For the most part, I had no such luck. However, there was a group of teens who looked faintly similar to myself, at least in style of dress and whatnot, and I decided I'd just follow them. Hopefully, they were going someplace that I'd feel comfortable in.

A few stops later, the group I had decided to follow departed the train into a commercial district. I waited until they were a few meters ahead to continue walking, though, to my dismay, they stopped walking in front of a shop near the stop. I sighed, and upon figuring that I would be too conspicuous if I stopped walking right in front of... nothing, I acted as if this was the store I had wanted to go into. I just hoped it wasn't some kind of pervert sex shop that I knew abounded in this place. Luckily, very very luckily, it was a music shop.

I was quickly enthralled in one of the guitars that was set out, and I busied myself with playing a song I had written not long before moving to Tokyo. It was a song I really liked, but I hadn't had much time to work on it since my hastey departure from Denver, and my own guitar was still in storage someplace. I honestly wasn't quite sure where Koetsu said he had put it, but I trusted it was somewhat safe. As I became more comfortable with the instrument again, I began the song again, singing the vocal part softly. So entranced was I with the music, that I hadn't realised that the small group I had been following earlier had filtered into the store, and that the males were watching me intensely.

It wasn't until one of them called to me, that I looked up, nearly jumping out of my skin. "Oi! Amerikan-jin." The one who had spoken was obviously waiting to see if I was going to address him, not caring whether he was right about my nationality or not, or whether I even knew what he had said. Of course, I did understand, as I wasn't completely naive to the language of the country I was currently inhabiting. Either way, I waited before replying, eye-ing over the speaker. He was about 5'6", and had chin-length hair dyed purple, though his roots were showing. He had on a pair of baggy black pants, and sneakers, though his shirt was a ripped, tight fitting, muscle tee. Both eyebrows were pierced, as well as obviously tweezed, and his lips and eyes were both painted the same color as his hair.

After all these observations, I was ready to speak, though I deliberately spoke as if I wasn't interested in talking to them, masking my nearly useless grasp upon the language. "Oi..." That was all I managed. Short, but sweet. I turned my focus back to the guitar, though I was actually pretty interested in what they wanted with me. After having left my band in Denver a few months before the move, and having been idle in Tokyo for a little under a month, I was itching to get back into the music business. These guys had obviously noticed me for my music, and looked like the type I might have something in common with. That is, if I could escape the language barrier.

The boy said something else to me that I couldn't understand whatsoever. I looked up at him, the gears in my mind turning to figure out a way for myself to not look completely oblivious. The stare I was giving him must have betrayed my lack of comprehension because he laughed and turned to say something to his friends before turning back to me and speaking in surprisingly good, though accented, English. "I said... 'You're pretty good with that thing'." He smiled at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement at my earlier dilemma. He continued, "You're not from around here, are you?"

I shook my head mutely, still fiddling with the guitar, fingering random chords. He took the initiative and introduced himself "I'm Takuro." He grinned a bit at me, continuing with "You're a quiet son of a bitch, aren't you?."

"Davian." And with that, one of the most important relationships I would make in Tokyo was created, though I had no way to know it at the time.

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End Notes: Wow. I actually updated. Go me. This is definitely no where near how I expected this chapter to go, but it works. And hey, at least I got this chapter done. I would have written more, but its late, and I'm getting bitched at. So, I figured I should get this up and running before I delay it any longer. As always, let me know what you think. ~Mizery Rose