A/N: Yawn. I sort of just woke up. I finished the chapter before writing the author's note, though, so I didn't just write this whole chapter. Haha. Imagine if I did. Miss-Fucking-Speedy. I drop the f-bomb a lot in this chapter. I couldn't think of any more creative curses. Anyway. Read on!

Review Responses

Actually, except this part. It's totally up to you.

Review Responses

Unsuspectinguke: What's uke mean? Anyway it's cool that you like it. I really just try to think like him, which isn't hard, because I understand where he's coming from most of the time. Anyway thanks that you like it. I actually thought that it's sort of gramatically incorrect when it shouldn't be, things like that. I pay attention to that stuff. It gets me ticked. So, ciao, and thanks, too. It means a lot that you have a good opinion on it. So it's cool, for me, at least.

Venomsyringe: I'm glad you like it, heheh. I always thought of Inuyasha more like the kind of guy who holds a schedule, I don't know why. He seems like a control freak to me. And it's cute, on him at least. I can't stand it when some men are like that. Anyway, gracias for the review. Keep on keeping on.

Shadowvampiress: You know, it's hard for him. Hahahaha. Inuyasha, I mean. They're not really in character for, uhmm...the remainder of the story, I guess. Actually, I don't even fucking know. I can never plan that far ahead. I just go with it, I guess. Whatever I'm into at the moment. Like, I'm into music right now. Uhmm. I don't really know what else to say. My mind is sort of strangled, I stayed up all night on coffee and some nicotine and some other stuff and I've been up all night writing things on human behaviour and bands and listening to this one Eric Clapton song for hours and hours. And then I had to go to school. So, au revoir, and thanks for the review.

Faggot: Your username's the best! I really should've fucking thought about that. Best! The psychos...whoever he gets with, he's fucked. So it really doesn't matter. Hahah. Anyway, I hope you have a nice day. Beauty, sex, love, God, and music!

Atrephius: Hahah. Oh God. I had another story, but it got deleted. For content, I guess..s Anyway, I always saw him more as this control-neat-freak-scheduled-always-on-time sort of practical guy. So I wrote him up like that. But, I don't really like Jakotsu in the show that much, so of course I'll write him up different. It's okay not to write grammatically perfect. I might not even bring them together, I probably will, but in a platonic way, because I don't like physical signs of affection at all because, hey, you can fuck a guy and not love him, right? So physical things have nothing to do with love, for me, at least. Also, I don't like steamy-romance-first-kiss-greatness-yay-puberty type stories, anyway, unless it's done in a realistic or nice way. Also, what's a beta? I'm not too up-to-date on all this lingo jazz, so you'll have to help me out on this one. Anyway, much love. Thank you for reviewing, and for the review, for everything, I guess, and you need to know that I really do like hearing your reviews and stuff, I sound mean and cynical because I'm...I don't even know! Hahah. Anyway, I guess I'll go on with this. So, enjoy!

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Chapter Fifteen

I spun the key ring around my finger, waiting for the door to finally open. I could hear someone from inside scream, "GET THE DOOR!" His father, probably.

A woman opened the door, willowy and tired looking with long black hair and droopy eyes. "Oh. Hold on." She turned her head around. "MIROKU! It's Inuyasha!"

"Whom?" I heard him ask, coming down the stairs.

"Inuyasha," she answered, more of a heaved sigh than an answer. I'd feel that way if Miroku was my son.

He smirked. "I don't know any such person."

"C'mon," I said through clenched teeth, trying my hardest not to curse at him in front of his mother. Or choke him.

"Alright, alright," he answered, going back inside. "Patience, patience, Inuyasha!" he called, running up the stairs.

I'd kill him. I looked at my watch- seventeen minutes late already. I rolled my eyes and tapped my fingers on the iron railing of his porch.

His mother noticed my obvious impatience. "Thank you so much for taking him to this party," she said, furrowing her neatly trimmed eyebrows and making some weird, waving hand gesture. "I'd drive him myself, but we're just so busy, with Tom's parish sessions and the cleaning and the bills and everything."

"Yeah," I muttered, on the verge of a nervous breakdown. What the Hell did that have to do with my driving him?

Miroku came back down, all ready in all his eccentricity. His mother kissed him on the cheek. "Make sure not to get into too much trouble," she said, lackadaisically, already knowing he would. It was just in Miroku's bones, I guess, to be a selfish, stupid pothead.

"Ciao," he said, doing that sort of run-skip thing that guys do when they go down the stairs. I just walked down, waving goodbye to his mother.

"Thank you," she called, though I could tell she was only saying it, hands cupped around her mouth, and went back inside the house.

I was dressed typically, in the whole jeans and t-shirt getup, but Miroku, of course, looked weird. He looked characteristically Dylan-esque with his worn out jeans and long, brown suede coat and white t-shirt underneath. Of course, it had a Miroku flair- fur around the collar, his aviator sunglasses, and…that hat.

"Take it off," I said, starting up the car and looking at that godawful hat he wore in the rearview mirror.

"Pardon?" he asked, lighting up a cigarette.

"Take the damn hat off," I growled, reversing, "I'm not being seen with you if you wear that damn hat."

He touched the wide, gray brim of it. "What, this?" he asked, knowing too well that I hated that hat.

"Yes, that," I said, driving down the street. We called it his "pimp hat-" it was a gray, broad-brimmed hat with a Native American-style rope-thing separating the brim from the rest of the hat. The worst part was the feather; there was this feather on one side, like Peter-fucking-Pan, slanted upwards, in different shades of brown, like a quail feather. "Take it. The fuck. Off."

"Are you really that bothered by it?" he asked. I glared daggers at him, getting my point across. He shrugged. "Then I see no reason to take it off."

"If you don't take that damn hat off I'll rip it off!" I barked, reaching over for it. He smacked my hand away and held onto it. I lowered my voice, almost hitting a Sedan in front of me. "I swear, if you even think I'm going to be seen with you wearing that fucking pimp hat you've got another thing coming."

"And that other thing would be?" he asked, calmly, totally disregarding the idea of taking it off.

I sighed. "Look. I'm serious. Take it off. I deal with you looking weird all the rest of the time, but I'm not gonna tolerate it now. Jesus, you look like some fucking stage actor!"

"You should relax," he said nonchalantly. He shook the cigarette ashes out the window. "Besides, we're going to a party, so it's excusable-"

"Yeah, a party we're not even on time for," I answered, stepping on the gas a little more.

"We're arriving fashionably late," he answered.

"We're fucking half an hour late! You call that fashionable?" I yelled.

"Calm down," he said sternly. I shut and rolled my eyes. Dickface. "You like to badger me, don't you?" he asked, with a smirk.

"Well, you like to be an idiot," I mumbled.

He blew a puff of smoke out of his mouth and sighed. "Look. Don't fret over it. Just go with it. The party's going to go on into the wee hours of the night, so it's fine that we arrived late. It's probably better for us. Now we'll be reputable for arriving fashionably, and no one will care how we're dressed. Don't be so high-strung. Just relax and have a good time. Alright?"

"Fine," I muttered. "This is the street, right?"

He looked out the window. "I believe Kyoukotsu said the house was yellow. I suggest you just look for a house with an odd number of cars parked in front of it. Or a house that has the lights on. What time is it?"

"Nine-forty," I said, my internal clock ticking in my brain.

He nodded and leaned back in his seat, blowing more smoke out. "Hmmm."

I looked through the house until I found a dingy, dark yellow one with a few lights on, with about five cars parked around it. It was pretty small, a ranch house from the distance I was at. It stood in one of those pristine, white neighborhoods- full of middle-class houses. On its right was a small brick two-story with neat hedges and a neat lawn. On its left was a homely looking white house with dark blue shutters and a neat gray pathway-

I peered closer at it. That couldn't be- no. Was it? Shit. It was Jakotsu's house. Shit. Wait. It was sheer coincidence. Nothing scary. I had to calm down…calm down…

I pretended as if I didn't recognize the neighborhood and parked across the street. I got out of the car. I could hear soft shouting and vague music coming from the yellow house. I locked the car and spun the key ring around my finger, breathing meditatively.

Miroku ran up next to me. "Seems like this is the place," he said. "I have a good feeling about this."

I tried to hide my nervousness- shit, this was going to suck, wasn't it? "Just shut up and walk," I said as we approached the house.

Miroku rang the doorbell and put his hands behind his back. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall.

An average-height guy with longish, braided hair and reddish-brown eyes opened the door. "Guests!" he screamed behind them, and everyone in the background shouted a sort of "huffah!" in the background. I looked at Miroku and shook my head, wanting to get out of here as fast as I could. I knew this would suck. I knew it. Miroku nodded, with a madman's grin, ecstatic that he was going to a party tonight. We shook and nodded our heads simultaneously as some guy in the background shouted, "where's the pizza?" and the whole crew laughed again. The red-eyed guy turned back to us. "Alright, c'mon in."

I walked in cautiously and stepped on a brown, prickly welcome mat. The guy closed the door and walked away. I hung my jacket up on the coat hanger by the doorway, next to some people's shoes. I stepped in further to investigate. To my right was a small staircase with a burgundy runner along it. There was a hallway in front of us that stretched into two rooms; to the left was what looked like a kitchen or a gaming room. The right room was maybe a sitting room (who the Hell has a sitting room?). There were people in that room. I couldn't make them out clearly, even though the room was pretty close. They were all sitting around one figure, an androgynous figure who was standing slanted with arms outstretched gracefully, sort of spinning around. The figure spun facing me- instinctively I knew who it was. He lowered his sunglasses a little so that I could see the tops of his eyes and looked at me for a bit, mouth parted, black hair down around his face. We stared at each other for a while, he in some sort of acknowledgement and me in some sort of awe or puzzlement. Someone stood up, asking him who was there.

I shook my head and turned back to Miroku. "Where're we supposed to-" I paused. He'd gone somewhere. I heard Jakotsu laugh. I leaned against the banister of the staircase and wondered what to do. Idiot. Why the Hell was I looking at him? It's not like I wanted to be there, or he needed me there, anyway. Who had he reminded me of?

A girl in a pink dress and purple tinted glasses walked down the stairs. She turned to me. "You should check out the stars upstairs," she said. "They're ethereal."

I watched her walk off and put my head in my hands. Why was I so stupid? This party was already racking my mind, and I had only been there for what? Five minutes? Three? Damnit. Whatever. I wiped my face with my hands and let out a frustrated breath, and went to mingle.

Some catchy rock song blared over everything as I came into the kitchen. I pressed a hand over my right ear and went to find someone I knew. Like that would work- I only knew three people here of the maybe thirty that were at the party, one of which I hated and the other who was being the goddamn social butterfly he was born to be.

Someone said, "Don't like the music?"

"I can see through mountains, watch me disappear/ something something/ Swallowing the colors I something something/ Am I just a crazy guy/ Something something something flying high again (or was it trying hard to care?)!"

I didn't answer. "Black Sabbath!" they shouted. "Crazy Train! You dig!"

"YEAH!" I spat, curtly enough so as to say, "leave me the fuck alone!" They guy shrugged and walked away to another group of party people. Shit. Shit. I needed to find someone…shit…

I walked around for a little bit, enough for a song to pass. I entered a dining room, where Miroku was talking to a bunch of party-goers. He turned around and lit up. He waved me over. I rolled my eyes and walked over, where I could see three people. "Inuyasha! I thought I'd lost you! Well, thank God you haven't been raped. Meet Hiten, Wes, and our dear host tonight."

Hiten, the guy who opened the door, nodded toward me. Looking at him closer, he was taller than I thought, with longer hair than I thought, tied back into a braid. Wes- the guy who asked me if I dig Black Sabbath's Crazy Train- waved. And our host was, in just a twist of my good fucking luck, Bankotsu.

He shook my hand, looking cocky as ever. "So we finally meet again, huh?"

"Peachy," I grumbled.

Miroku smirked. "Have you two met before?"

"Yeah," I muttered, holding up two fingers, "twice."

"Well! Isn't that a coincidence? It really is a small world," Miroku said brightly. A little too small. Suddenly I was developing a serious case of claustrophobia.

The music faded into a slow, prom-date sort of dancing song. Introductions over and done, they started to talk. "Anyway, what I was saying is that the music's fantastic," Miroku said, continuing whatever conversation they were having earlier.

"Yeah. My friend Suikotsu and I collaborated on it," Bankotsu said matter-of-factly.

"Todd Rundgren," Wes said, totally convinced I knew nothing about music. "It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference."

"Yeah," I grunted.

We grabbed beers off a tray someone was passing around and talked until another song came on. "Anyway, we've gotta mingle," Bankotsu said, reminded of the time.

"Yeah! Gotta go meet and greet," Hiten said, in his frat boy way, smiling like all Hell and Heaven's collide.

"Alright, then. We'll be around," Miroku said. "Nice to meet you all." He shook their hands and they left. He turned to me. "So?"

"'So' what?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you enjoying yourself so far?" he replied. I just stared at him. He laughed. "Oh, come now- it can't be that bad for you, can it?"

All the sudden a figure tore through the crowd. Wes stood in front of us, winded. "Oh, I forgot," he said. He pointed up again. "Mr. Farmer. The Seeds. Bye!" He ran back.

Miroku stared for a bit and burst out laughing. "Oh, you don't know the half of it," I grunted, moving away from Wes' direction. "You don't know the half of it."

>>>>>>>

Finally, some somewhat contemporary music that I knew- Pearl Jam.

I wasn't enjoying myself any more than I was in the beginning. I was slightly buzzed, now on my third cup. What can I say. When you hang out with Miroku, you learn how to take your alcohol. I downed the rest of it and looked for a garbage can to throw it out in. I wasn't planning on getting wasted tonight- I didn't need a car crash on top of all this party shit.

I threw it out and started to go back to my place back by the window in back of the dining table. By standing by the window, arms crossed and looking out and drinking my beer, I was officially telling everyone at this damned party that no, I wasn't interested in talking, and, no, I wasn't going to be getting high tonight. Maybe my negativity just made it seem like the party sucked…

"So you're tired of this shit, too?"

I looked beside me. It was Jakotsu's bald friend, somethin'-kotsu. Ben-kotsu? Jen-kotsu? "Yeah," I grunted.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm Renkotsu." Ren- that was it. "I'm guessing you're Jakotsu's friend? Inuyasha?"

"Uhm, yeah, I guess," I said. I wasn't so sure of this 'friend' business…but I was sure Jakotsu'd been talking about me. Stupid fucking...

"Yeah," he said. "So, how'd you meet him? Something weird, as always?"

"Therapist," I answered. He gave me a skeptical look. "I needed to pick up my girlfriend."

He looked relieved. "Oh. Good. The last thing he needs is another psychopathic friend. I mean, more than he has now, anyway."

"There's more?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"Billions more," he said. "Most of them past boyfriends."

My interest sparked- it's just something I judge people by. How can you not judge people by their past? It's one of those things that's impossible not to think about. "Really?" I asked, faking casualness so as not to sound too concerned.

He nodded. "Really. He's out of control- with relationships and things like that." He rolled his eyes. "Well, what do you expect. It is Jakotsu we're talking about."

"Yea," I answered. I remembered the Renkotsu I saw at the therapist and thought that they didn't look alike at all. The therapist-Renkotsu, I remember, was a criminal with shifty eyes who was not to be trusted. This Renkotsu seemed like a source to me, a reference book that only listed facts. Just a regular person.

"Don't they call him something at your school?" he asked.

What? What the Hell did that mean? "I don't know," I said, thinking of how unfortunate it was for the people at my school that they knew him.

"Yeah, I remember they called him something," he said. "Like, 'The Saint Midoriko Slut.' But that just further states his flippancy with relationships. The way I see it, he's just craving the attention that his parents never give him."

Well, that seemed plausible. "Yeah. But, how has he been in so many relationships?" I asked, interrogating like a detective. "I mean, he's only, what, fifteen?"

"Well, it started with the first one," he said. "I don't remember his name, but all I remember was that he was much older than him. He was, maybe, late twenties, early thirties. That's the first one. There were a whole bunch after that, including his therapist. I'm not even sure why he tells Suikotsu and I this stuff, but he does, but I think he needs to vent once in a while. But the sure sign that he's got a new boyfriend is that he grows apart from you for a while."

I thought on that. Come to think of it, he hadn't been calling me all that often lately. "Huh," I grunted.

"He does have a new one. The worst part is that it's got Bankotsu jealous. The thing is, Bankotsu has issues with confidence, and he tries to fulfill himself in Jakotsu, because he constantly dotes on him. When Jakotsu gets a new boyfriend he becomes totally wrapped in that person, and that makes Bankotsu feel inadequate."

"Yeah I guess," I said, overwhelmed by the Freudian-Perls psychology thing. Jesus, could you act like any more of a shrink?

Someone tapped on my shoulder. I whipped around- Miroku. Finally. "We've been invited to another area."

"Area?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.

"A sort of VIP-thing, if you will. Only the host's closest friends go there," he said. He looked at Renkotsu. "Nice to meet you!"

"Yeah, ditto," I said, as Miroku dragged me away and I was filled with this new, improved information on the newest phase in my life.

>>>>>>>

The VIP place was spotless and clean, unlike the rest of the house. The couches were a beige and the carpet was green, with '70s wood paneling on the walls. There was a case of porcelain objects and a TV with family pictures above it. I was guessing this was the family room. Two guys with acoustic guitars sat on one couch, playing something soft below the music, which was less audible in this room.

Miroku left again to go speak with some other new acquaintances he had. I stood near the doorway, not knowing what to do- there was much less privacy in this area. I could basically see everything in front of me.

Wes came up to me. "Hey! How've you been? Enjoying yourself?"

"Sure," I muttered, wishing he would get the Hell away from me. I really didn't need him right now… "I'm just peachy."

"What's that?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said loudly. I wondered how many people heard me.

He laughed. "Cool. You were mumbling, so-"

"Do you know what song this is?" I interrupted, loud and irritated, so he would get the message.

He looked at me blankly. "Oh, God. It sounds so familiar. It's…uhmm…oh, god, I know this!" he said, snapping his fingers. "It's…uhmmm…jeez…it's-"

"It's the Beach Boys," said someone next to us. I turned around. Jakotsu, smiling his smile. "Feel Flows."

"Oh, yeah! Beach Boys! It sounded so familiar!" Wes said. "God, I haven't seen you all night! What's up?"

I could see the cynical eye-roll under the sunglasses. He laughed. "It's been okay. Like, as in, there's not much. But it's fun and I like everyone here." He looked at me. I looked at him, thinking about what Renkotsu'd said...it made me uncomfortable, to see him now through a new eye. And he noticed. And he frowned. "Uhmm."

"Yeah. So, you're having a good time? This party is great!"

"Yeah," Jakotsu said, smiling, still looking at me. He turned to Wes. "Could you get me a beer?"

"Oh, sure," Wes said, marching off.

We stayed silent. "Hey," he said, obviously noticing my newfound, cautious attitude toward him. Like he just always noticed fucking everything.

"Hi," I returned.

"Oh!" Miroku said, coming up behind us. "You've made a new friend! That's good for you. I've been trying to get him to socialize all night, but our Inuyasha is a stubborn gentleman. It's good you've found the soul to humour him."

Jakotsu stuck his hand out for me to shake it. I took it cautiously- first our truth conversation, then Renkotsu's insight, and now this. His hand, pale and smaller than mine. "Pleasure," he said, smiling.

Miroku looked confused. "Have you met?"

I paused. "Miroku," I said, "this is Jakotsu."

Miroku looked at him in surprise. "Oh! That Jakotsu! It's a pleasure to finally meet you!"

"Yeah, you too," he answered.

Wes returned with Jakotsu's beer. Jakotsu took it and downed the glass, clutching the empty cup unsteadily. He turned to the rest of the people in the room. "Is anyone ready to rumble in this room!" he said flamboyantly. The whole room was enamored with him- they huffahed in joy. "Guitar!" he said, signaling to the guitarists. They strummed something Spanish-sounding. He spun around and wiped out on the other couch. Everyone cheered. "Let's party!" he said. Everyone laughed. The better-looking of the guitarists smiled. Jakotsu looked at me, smiling and laughing, and fell backwards again like a drunk klutz. Only then I figured out that he was tipsy. All that, and now this. One handshake.

Five people stood up immediately, among them Bankotsu, the better-looking guitarist, and a tall, older looking guy with longish brown hair to help him up.

Miroku sensed something wrong in me. He looked at me and said quietly, "So that's Jakotsu."

"Yeah," I answered. "That's Jakotsu."

>>>>>>>

By then we'd met up with Kyoukotsu, who, no surprise, was friends with Jakotsu. There were seven of them who stuck together, we guessed, all -kotsus. Two of them weren't here today, Kyoukotsu said, but he and the others were.

Lately I didn't know what to make of Jakotsu. He was so confusing all the fucking time, slipping away from anyone who really tried to get to know him. Did I? Had I? I didn't know. Maybe he was odd around me now because of our little talk a few days ago. Or maybe it was like Renkotsu said, maybe it was just his new boyfriend, this John guy (the guitarist). Lately I was confused at myself. I felt like I was asleep for no fucking reason, and like I wanted to wake up but I was just too damn tired. My mind was twisted and overwhelmed. All this new information. Miroku's hat. His hand. Kagome's hair. Sesshoumaru's breakfast. His hand again. How in the Seven Hells was this connected? Christ. I needed something. I needed a link. There was nothing in my mind to organize all this, no storage bins, no neat little file cabinets. Just papers and documents jumbled all over. Was I even making sense?

Halfway through Jakotsu left with his guitarist happier than a retarded dog on smack. He came back with red eyes and tear stains running down his cheeks and his guitarist's arm constantly around his shoulders. One minute he's so fucking happy, then he's crying like a baby. There was no sense in it. Nothing. There was no connection between anything. He was so drunk by then he needed someone to constantly hold him up.

He'd look over once in a while, sometimes seeming like he wanted to say something and sometimes just looking at me, puzzled as to my new attitude. Well, I was puzzled too. I was confused at every goddamn thing. I needed someone to wake me up. He needed someone to put him to sleep.

>>>>>>>

I fell face-down on my bed at around 1:16, exhausted. A buzz was ringing in my ear from the loudness of the music and my four cups of beer. I can't believe I drove that way- buzzed and beat. Well, it wasn't like Miroku could've driven in his condition. He'd hit the alcohol, and his cigarettes, and the bong all in one night. Thank God no one told him about he acid. He'd be all over that like ink on a newspaper, and I would've dumped him out of my car quicker than lightning.

I grunted. I didn't need to think right now. I just needed to sleep. Sleep...like some kind of psycho stupid teenager who comes home late all the time, never feeling shittier in my life, never sleepier...sleeping all the fucking same.

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A/N: That was the end of part one. I'm labeling part one as "People's Parties" and part two will be…I'll think about that. Anyway, toodles. I have to start writing the next chapter…shit. I guess there'll be fifteen more chapters after this. It's starting to get dreary, no? But I guess if you start the day laughing you end it crying. Ciao.