Izamism
or
A Nerve Rending Hot Night

Each strum of the guitar rang out like a gunshot, stretched out until it was a desperate shrill scream. It was that level of volume that people only enjoy at concerts. If it was this loud at home, the audience members would turn it down. And then, SOUL LOVE was over, seemingly as soon as it started. Takuro give a sly smile which was somehow detectable even to the screaming fans at the very back of the Tokyo Dome. Everyone was fixated on it... everyone except for Izam. To be blunt, Takuro could've donned a gargantuan chicken costume that evening, and Izam wouldn't have given it a second thought.

Izam, at that moment, lived and breathed for Teru and Teru alone. He had not come here for that reason; he was given free tickets by his record company. He felt it would've been unladylike to decline the offer. By all accounts, he practically slept through Baiser and La'Chryma Christi's sets. He felt there was no need to attempt to look inconspicuous that evening, the fans who had paid enough to actually buy the tickets to see this concert were truly obsessed, and the majority of them came in full visual-kei stage regalia. How ironic, he thought, that many of them were probably fans of his, but for all they knew, he was just another cosplayer. For a moment the thought crossed his mind that either the cosplayers were too good, or he wasn't trying hard enough in the fashion department.

That notion, of course, was almost unthinkable. Izam was like a human jewel that evening. His angelic blue contacts gave his eyes an almost cartoonish shimmer, and his light purple hair, which had been styled with all the intricacy of a grandfather clock, fell bouncily beside the aforementioned gleaming eyes. He wore a soft, shiny, brightly colored winter coat with large fuzzy cuffs at the end, from which you could see a suggestion of what might be a hand, but looked more like a paw. His tiny fingertips peeked out ever so slightly. Underneath the coat was a labrynthine sea of brightly colored thin shirts and jewelry, trailing down to a low cut skirt. On his feet he wore what must have been the most festive and without a doubt the most expensive snow boots ever concieved.

Izam didn't know what it was about Teru... there was too much. His roughhewn face, his aged eyes, not to mention his long lean figure. And as Teru crooned words of love out into the audience, Izam didn't stand a chance. He was hooked. Izam looked right at those eyes of Teru's with all the precision of a laser guided missile. He wondered, he desperately wished that those eyes pushed and shoved through the ocean of people to find him and be equally fixated on him. In his mind he played through so many wishes. He saw Teru's face looking at him with an obscenely dramatic starlight sky behind him, the level of gel saturation not mattering in the imagination allowed his hair to wave and shiver softly in the wind. In Izam's mind his hands were godlike. Gigantic and gentle. And in them he clutched Izam's tiny doll mitts. He spoke nondescript words of undying love. Which words Teru chose in Izam's imagination were irrelevant; it was simply that Izam imagined them being the sort of words that the sun rose and set for. His mind skipped and dashed like a child in the snow through years with Teru all in the space of an instant. He saw them sharing all sorts of simple joyous occassions, building snowmen, going shopping, drinking hot cocoa. Izam crafted a Teru that fit perfectly into his little world. A figure to go in his mental dollhouse.

Time passed, thick and lumbering with the rust of anticipation. As the concertgoers poured out of the Tokyo Dome, Izam quietly plodded through them until he reached the entrance to the backstage area. Before the security guard had gathered enough breath for a syllable, Izam whipped out a backstage pass like a middle finger. He wished to snap at the guard with some fierce little comment for having the audacity to attempt to slow Izam in his quest of love, something along the lines of, "Do you understand that I'm not even playing at this show but I could have you fired if you breathe the wrong way at me?" However, Izam though to himself that that would be unladylike. He pressed onward.

After what seemed like an unending series of doors and roadies who may as well have been furniture, for they were no more than obstacles to Izam, he reached the greenroom. He opened the door, his heart in his throat, and stepped casually inside. The after party in the greenroom was unspectacular. A small crowd of agents, a few lucky fans, and the exhausted members of the band were scattered haphazardly about the room. A few other Jrock somebodies were there too, but as far as Izam was concerned, if it wasn't Teru, it was irrelevant.

Izam grew frustrated. He could find everyone but Teru. Where could his destined love have gone? Surely fate would not deny him the undying love of his prince charming. Then he heard the door opening. He looked to where he had come in, and a tall lean character was stepping out. As the door shut behind him, Izam knew it had to be his love. He dashed back to the door and shoved it open, stumbling out into the hallway.

Realizing that Teru might at last be alerted to his presence, Izam straightened himself up. Teru didn't notice. For a moment Izam felt a tinge of heartbreak, but he shook it off and then said "Excuse me."

Teru turned around. He looked into Izam's eyes and Izam felt as if cupid had upgraded from arrows to a bazooka. "Uh, hiya!" said Teru. Izam was a little dissapointed that his one true love greeted him with "Uh, hiya!" as opposed to something more romantic, but he again shook it off.

"I saw your show," said Izam, "and you were fantastic. It was as though you were singing straight to my soul, each phrase like a gleaming sunbathed handful of ambrosia..."

"Oh. uh, thanks!" said Teru. Izam felt as though he was trying to start a car whose engine had frozen. He did his best to keep his quietly growing frustration at bay.

"Hey, come to think of it, you look familiar!" said Teru. Izam's heart exploded with joy, his beloved Teru had been dreaming of him, wishing on a star every night that he would at last be united with his true love.

"You're in that band...what was it, Shizbar?" Teru said, in what was most likely the most anticlimactic sentence Izam had ever heard. Where was the poetic language of his songs? Why were Izam's hands still resting in his pockets and not enveloped in Teru's? "Its Shazna. And you can call me Miss Izam," said Izam quietly.

"But you're a guy...aren't you?" said Teru. Izam, feeling wounded, tried to muster his initial enthusiasm and take his best shot.

"Let us not waste time with such silly technicalities as gender. When I saw you on stage, it was like there was only you... I feel something special and magical when I look at you," Izam said, stepping closer to Teru, and prying his way into Teru's eyes. "Do you believe in destiny, Teru?" he said, "Do you believe in love?" he said, his hands now on Teru's shoulders. He pressed himself close against to Teru, who's face showed an expression of total confusion.

"Um... buddy... I um... " Teru began, but his words were cut short as Izam's eyes fluttered closed and he suddenly felt Izam's soft lips against his. in Izam's mind, the bland walls of the backstage hallway had been replaced with a sky crowded with only the brightest of stars.

The stars then turned into angry wild monkeys and fell from the sky as Izam felt Teru's arms pushing him away.

"Hold on a sex! err, sec!" Teru exclaimed. "Listen mister Shazna..."

"That's Izam!" Izam exclaimed, letting a couple of tears escape.

"Sorry, sorry, Izam... listen... I'm sorry buddy, but I'm kinda straight."

"But Teru! My beloved!" Izam began desperately. "Does what someone has on the outside make a difference if you love them?"

"Well... I mean... if its a penis... " Teru began.

Izam was now filled with heartbreak and rage. "Why don't you get it?!" Izam shouted, now beating his tiny little hands, which had made tiny little fists, against Teru. "Our love is meant to be! It is destined! You must believe in a love like this! Like in that song you wrote, 'Soul Love'!"

"Um... I didn't write Soul Love," Teru said quietly with his head down. "Takuro wrote it while he was on the can at rehearsal one day..."

Izam was on fire with frustration. "But-But... I mean... you must... " Izam began.

"Look buddy... I didn't mean to hurt your feelings... I mean, you're a really cute girl.. um.. boy.. er... person... "

Izam just glared at Teru with tears streaming down his face.

"Look look," Teru consoled, "I have a friend, his name is Ryutaro, he's a really nice guy, and I mean... I could try to set you up or... "

"NO, NO, NO!!" shouted Izam.

Teru paused and said with a sigh, "Well, I'm sorry, but I gotta go Mr... er... Ms... um... buddy."

"IZAM!!! My name is Izam..." Izam said, trailing off, with tears flowing down his face, which he then covered with his miniscule hands. Teru shrugged and walked away.

Izam then unburied his face and began to stomp and shake his fists like Yosemite Sam. "OH... OH POOPFEATHERS!!!" Izam shouted, and returned to his weeping.

He stood there crying for what felt like an eternity, until suddenly, a hand upon his shoulder ceased the weeping almost instantaneously. Izam jumped for a second, and then looked at the hand, reaching up and touching it for a moment, as though he were wearing a blindfold. This hand intrigued Izam, it was like gentle warm water - forever moistened from the perspiration of a cold can of beer, forever warmed from the soft subtle flame of a cigarette.

"What's the matter kid?" said a deep, soft, almost subliminal voice.

Izam turned around and gazed into wide soft eyes and soft frosty colored hair. He wanted to reach out and pet that long intriguing nose.

"Nothing... " said Izam quietly, pausing for a minute. Then he began again, softly smiling and in a quiet sensual voice. "Nothing's wrong now... "

"Um... well, good then... " said Kiyoharu with a confused and nervous expression now creeping over his face.


~owari... ?~


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