A soft melody was all you could hear as the boy sat in his music space, strumming effortlessly away at the perfectly tuned strings of his coveted acoustic guitar. He loved the feel of it, the firm base against his chest and almost so fitting for his shape that it was as though it were a puzzle piece made specifically to be perfect for him. His hands glided over the surface as it was cradled in his arms when he played, plucking a few times to test the sound. Hundreds of songs had been swirling around in that typically airy mind of his, each trying to be the most prominent and noticeable in hopes of being played by those musical fingers he possessed.

But this was not a time of playing for the simple pleasure of playing. No; one song had struck his mind more than the rest, a new one he had not come across before. It was an entirely new song, one just begging him to be written. Over past days, the boy had been setting aside hours a night to complete the melody, to bring that rather poignant, but still gentle and engaging song to paper. Now, after almost a week of having been working on this, it was nearly complete, save a few lyrics here and there.

Otoya chewed aimlessly at the side of his pencil, ignoring the tiny flecks of yellow paint in his mouth at the action. His mind had been far off, repeating different lyrics in his head over and over again until he found the perfect combination. Such mindlessness left him blind to the door being opened, and a casual, almost bored looking Syo sauntering in.

"Otoya," he began nonchalantly. "What are you doing on this incredibly rainy day?"

The question startled the boy, and his head instantly shot up from the notebook to glance at the window. It had been unbelievably gloomy outside, not a streak of sun noticeable through the thick fog of clouds or sheet of rain that had been pouring down without fail. With a quick peek over to his nightstand, he saw the time for what it was. It had felt like a mere few hours since he had started this. Now, it was late into the mid-morning, the clock minutes from reaching noon. Had he really been working so diligently that he lost track of six hours?

"I was just writing some lyrics. I didn't even see the time. When did it start raining?"

"About eight this morning." Syo glanced over Otoya's shoulder as he towered over the sitting redhead, reading the lyrics that seem to take up page upon page. "How long have you been writing?"

"Since about six this morning," Otoya answered honestly, shutting the notebook and returning the guitar to its rightful place. "I couldn't sleep with Tokiya shuffling around this morning. So I got up too, and just continued writing."

The visitor's eyes glanced around the room, measuring one side in particular.

"Where is our dear Tokiya anyway?"

"Tokiya had to see his old publicist or something. He is a family friend and was ill for a while. Saotome gave him and Haruka-chan permission to leave for the day to go visit him."

The answer was simple and truthful, but it didn't keep the suspicious looking Syo from tipping his fedora just the faintest bit as he continued his scan of Tokiya's room side. His black polished fingers brushed against the books on the close shelf, sliding down the dustless area and hesitating on something that startled him greatly.

"Isn't that the rose from the dance last weekend?"

Otoya spared a quick second to examine what Syo had meant, hardly giving it a moment of thought before he returned to his putting the notebook away in the desk.

"No, that was there before I think."

A long, contemplative silence dragged on as the boy thought back. His eyes, the entire time, focused on the now withering pink rose.

"Like . . . Ren's rose?"

"Maybe," was all the response Syo received.

His fingers drummed mindlessly on the edge of the shelf, before grumbling with an internal debate as he settled himself on the edge of the bed he stood beside. Otoya tried to remain silent, to not remark that Tokiya would kill him should he come in and find Syo on his perfectly made bed.

Syo broke the long silence first, muttering, "Something is going on between Ren and Tokiya. I know it."

The redhead's head cocked curiously to the side, and he sensed this would be a story long explanation. Without a second though, he relaxed onto his bed, resting his head on his arms as he waited for the clarification.

"Something like what? Like they're trying to break off from Starish?"

The accuser contemplated that a moment, but eventually shook his head with denial.

"No, something else. You didn't see them at the dance that night. When we were leaving, Ren came out and, I don't know, winked at Tokiya. I was sure of it!"

Otoya fell silent a moment, trying to picture such a sight.

"Does a wink mean something?"

Syo's palm smacked firmly against his own forehead, and he grumbled at having to explain further.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I saw them on the balcony earlier that night. I couldn't see entirely what they were doing. Ren blocked most of my sight. But I saw Ren lean in, and I guess whisper something? Kiss his cheek? Something! I know I saw something!"

The dumbfounded look continued to remain chiseled onto the boy's face as he stared a rambling Syo down, nothing but a strangled stutter audible from his lips a moment.

"You sound like you are accusing Tokiya and Ren of something romantic."

"I don't know . . . but something fishy is definitely going on." A soft sigh escaped his faintly parted lips. "I just don't want Haruka-chan to get hurt. She is our friend too."

Otoya was not blind to the truth behind those blue eyes of his blonde friend; he saw that Syo felt more than the simple "overprotective friend" feelings he should be for their favorite composer. If he was being honest, he couldn't blame the boy. Haruka had changed all of their lives, and they all had felt something a bit more than the average friend would. Otoya probably more than all of them, save for Tokiya.

However, as the months progressed, and their friendship showed itself for what it was (simply friendship), Otoya could see there were not as many feelings as he thought. Simple infatuation with what was new and exciting, not quite love like he had thought. Evidently Syo had yet to see that in his own situation.

The door suddenly swung open and a soaked Tokiya strolled in. His blue-gray hoodie sat draped nicely over his left forearm. The rain had dampened his hair entirely; the short locks clung to his glistening face, as did the white Oxford he wore to his muscles and chest. There was something intriguing, and rather fascinating about the look Tokiya sported, and it grasped the attention of his roommate almost without effort. His blue eyes instantly locked with Otoya's, seeming distant and uninterested entirely.

"Welcome back, Tokiya!" the boy said exuberantly, sitting up to watch the older male step into the room routinely. "How was your trip?"

"Fine," he muttered simply, though at least his tone was friendlier than the stoic look. The thought comforted Otoya the faintest bit. "How was the song writing?"

"Great! I was hoping you could look at them later."

"Sure," the still dripping wet male said, glancing up from his dresser for the first time to see a sitting Syo on his bed. Nothing was said at first, a dark scowl taking place on his face. "You better make my bed when you're done using it."

"Aye-aye, captain!" the blonde replied strategically, giving a quick salute to the male as he passed, and watched him raid his closet.

A smirk played at the edge of Tokiya's lips, and Otoya couldn't help cracking a small smile at the sight of his roommate. He let his eyes shift, moving from Tokiya's face, and down the now extended arm as it reached into the closet. His shirt was practically see-through, and the younger male could see every nicely chiseled muscle concealed beneath.

As the boy's eyes continued down, he watched the way his roommate's stomach muscles flexed when he stretched to reach the stop shelf of his small closet. The fabric clung more to his abs, and suddenly Otoya grew aware he was being far too "intrigued" by his friend to be normal.

A faint blush formed on his cheeks, he was sure of it, considering his face felt a hundred degrees hotter instantaneously. The redhead's eyes focused on Syo, to see if he had noticed, but Syo was too engrossed with accusations and possible truth behind it.

"Tokiya," Syo began, his gaze shifting from the flower to the subject of his call. "Why do you still have Ren's rose?"

The taller male spared a brief glance at the shelf holding the said object, and his scowl quickly returned.

"It's the one from the dance."

"No its not," Syo snapped. "That one was more bloomed, fuller. This one isn't that rose."

With a grumble at the subject, Tokiya strode over in two small steps and grabbed the flower from its ledge, tossing it rather effortlessly into the closest garbage can available.

"It's just a rose."

Otoya stayed silent where he sat, his mind considering the remark Syo had made about Tokiya. That is, until he heard the shuffling of fabric, and his eyes focused on the now shirtless Tokiya not far from the foot of his bed, the tie and Oxford clutched in his fist as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I'm going to take a shower," he muttered simply, sparing a brief glance at Otoya before stepping into the bathroom and clicking the lock shut behind him.

Even with him gone, the redhead found it difficult to not picture the twinkle of those water droplets on that bare chest, only being added to by the dripping water from his hair. He had never noticed the definition of Tokiya's biceps, and found himself greatly captivated by the sight.

The water started to run, or so he heard through the paper thin walls that separated his room from their private bathroom, and his mind instantly went places it shouldn't have. As Tokiya slid the shower door closed behind him, Otoya's face heated up once more, and he was quickly to his feet.

"How about we go see if Haruka-chan and Tomo-chan want to get dinner in the cafeteria? I'm sure Haruka is starving because her afternoon."

Syo's eyes glanced up from the small trashcan beside Tokiya's bed, and he instantly was at full attention.

"Sounds great! Let's go!"

The redhead nodded in agreement, giving a quick shout of "Tokiya! We'll be in the cafeteria with the girls!" from the door.

"Okay," was all replied from the separated Starish member, the answer faintly muffled by the sound of streaming water.

Otoya's face felt warmer still, and he was quick to breeze through the door before his thoughts came up with more images that didn't belong . . . before he found images that he really liked.

xxx

The thick aroma of his Longjing tea filled the dorm room, the sound his gentle breathing and pen scratching against the paper the only audible sounds in the room. His mind was far off, contemplating the lyrics possible for this S-Class homework he was so diligently working on that late afternoon.

The door squeaked open, and a rather confidently looking Ren strolled in with ease.

"Hello, Masa," he greeted coolly, clicking the door shut after him and coming to stand close behind his friend.

"Ren," Masato greeted indifferently, sparing no chance to glance at his roommate.

The strawberry blonde stood close behind the silent writer, reading each lyric with careful consideration. Minutes seem to pass, and the dark haired male seemed to be growing irritable by the second, especially at his roommate's proximity as he knelt beside him.

"Must you hover?"

"The lyrics sound confused," he remarked with a critiquing look in his eye, ignoring the scowling Masa.

The opinion was quickly ignored, and the notebook was slammed shut with a grumble.

"I'll continue this later, when I am more secluded."

Ren shrugged uncaringly as he returned to his feet, instantly striding to his side of the room to grab his cherished darts. Like clockwork, the darts began to fly from his hand, one by one, hitting nearly perfect center on the board hanging not far off.

Masato turned to watch, his expression apathetic as he studied the tall older male.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Ren inquired unfeelingly, his eyes never leaving the board before him.

"Why are you so torturous to Ichinose-san? Is there a purpose for your mind games on our friend? Tokiya grows more flustered by the day of the fake flirting you do. That is not good to us as a group. Starish will suffer if you continue to exasperate him."

A smirk spread onto his thin lips, his eyes locked on the last dart as it flew across the room.

Upon its smacking center in the board, Ren teased, "Who says I was playing?"

Masato grumbled at the remark and shot to hit feet to rinse his cup in the bathroom sink.

"Fine, avoid the subject with jokes."

The blonde only chuckled at his roommate's frustration, and came to stand behind him. Ren's lips were quick to his approach his ear, fingers sliding across those broad shoulders as he kneaded the muscles tenderly.

"Masa, if I didn't know you better, I would say your jealousy is showing." His long fingers slid further down the muscles of his back, hands settling on Masato's hips.

Quickly seeing through the tease, Masato bumped him back, ignoring the soft chuckle of his friend as he took a few steps away.

"Nice try, Ren. I know you well, and whatever it is you want, the answer is no."

Ren watched as the younger male strode away. His heart yearned for Masato to pause, to re-listen to the tone and ache in the "flirt's" voice. Flirting was farthest from his mind; he was full of sincerity, longing for something to get across to his childhood friend. If only Masato had seen the true intentions behind the "teasing" Ren had been doing to Tokiya, that it was nothing, that his eyes were focused on where his heart was . . . with Masato, even if the feeling was not returned.

The blonde thought back to just a moment ago, as his fingers brushed further down the firm back muscles of Masa's. He had noticed at the time, but hadn't thought of it as something. A shutter of pleasure.

"A little more encouragement . . . just a little more encouragement is all Masa needs."

Ren couldn't resist smiling just the faintest bit, quickly concealing it as he breezed past the reading Masato, enjoying the way his blue eyes briefly snuck a peek as he passed.

"Just a little more . . ."