And I'm still continuing to update relatively fast! Sadly, this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the rest of them, but I'm afraid to add anymore to it. A lot is happening in this one, so maybe that could balance it out. But that just means that I'm going to update even faster, since I'm already writing the next one! Hopefully, despite the length, it's better than the last one.

Oh, and Happy Belated New Years. It's 2010 now!

Disclaimer: I don't own The World Ends with You.

777 had a powerful voice. That was the first aspect of the singer that the Tech noticed all those years ago when he was hired to set up Def March's first concert. They were a very underground band, and that night had been their first time poking their head up above the ground. They had strictly clung to small clubs or bars: their comfort zone. But that night, they threw their security blanket to the ground and performed on, by Shibuya's standard, a large stage. And they rocked.

The memory brought a fond smile to the Tech's face. He had known the three band mates for literally forty-eight hours during that show, but, from his seat off to the side of the stage, he could tell that the miniscule crowd—they filled about one-third of the building—responded positively to them. The Tech didn't expect them to be great, or even that good, but they blew him away.

Tenho bashed the drums gracefully with a fervor he did not express anywhere else. BJ played his bass and sang his handful of lyrics with the confidence he normally exuded, but the Tech could not deny that he had talent; playing the bass was the only time he would admit that BJ had a right to have an over-sized ego. And 777… from the minute he walked out onto the stage, his charm washed over the crowd, and they were under his control. From the second he began strumming the intro of the song, and passionately reciting the words of his song, everyone rose to their feet, albeit skeptically, and enjoyed their performance, becoming progressively engrossed by them with each song.

It would have been a lie to say that he immediately fell in love with 777 during that show—and also a horrible cliché—but the Tech became interested in the slightly senior man. That much was undeniable. He wanted to see them perform again, just to see if they applied the same magic that they had that first night, or if it had just been beginner's luck. He was rehired to be their tech show after show, and quickly learned that the appeal of Def March and, more personally, the people a part of the band, was genuine, and it never faded.

"Futoshi, you still in there?"

Or had that spark been extinguished?

"Huh?" He responded intelligently, bringing himself back to the present.

Tenho craned his neck so he could see the Tech around the headrest. "Nothing, just making sure you're still alive."

The Tech watched as Tenho turned back around and directed his attention back to the front of the car. Then the Tech sighed and leaned back against the window, shuddering as the cool surface made contact with his temple. They were probably half way there, according to the Tech's mental map. They spent the majority of the trip in silence. Barely any words were exchanged when they picked the Tech up at the ramen shop; neither questioned why he was there, which he was thankful for.

His mind traveled back to the scattered memories of Def March's last concert. It seemed just like any other concert, the trio threw themselves into the music, like always, and the Tech didn't realize anything was wrong at the time. He didn't notice 777's strained movements, his gasping breaths, or his slurring speech. Only in retrospect had he noticed those details, and he couldn't help but wonder if he could have changed something if he had.

But he didn't notice. No, he only watched helplessly as the singer, nearing the end of his set, dropped gracelessly to the stage. He didn't react as he watched BJ toss his bass to the floor and rush over to the singer's crumpled, unconscious body. He didn't move when the audience gasped in shock and horror, or when Tenho tried to appease them while BJ picked 777 up, even though the drummer's voice was trembling with fear.

The Tech was rooted to his spot and did nothing to help, not even when BJ barked at him to call an ambulance. He could only stare at 777's slacken, sunken face with fragmented feelings. He could barely react when Tenho grabbed his shoulder and shook him, asking for an explanation like a child pestering a parent for attention. The two had lived together; they had for over a year. But he noticed nothing, and he would live with that image of his lover for the rest of his life.

Time chose this point to speed up. BJ was leisurely speeding along, taking heed of Tenho's handwritten directions whenever needed. With each minute that flew by, anxiety was welling within the Tech.

"So what are we going to do after this?" Tenho asked hesitantly. It was the question that nobody wanted to voice, but now that it was out in the open, it gave the Tech something else to focus on.

"Well… we go back home," he answered, knowing that he was being too literal, knowing that he was being a smart ass. He didn't want to give a definitive answer too soon. He didn't want the silence to resume.

"Maybe we just try to go back to normal," BJ interjected, eyes never leaving the road. Even when the Tech and him had reached a tentative understanding, they still continued to oppose each other.

"But what if 777 can't go back to being normal?"

The Tech bit his lip. When had Tenho gotten the gift to see inside his mind and find his fears?

"They wouldn't be releasing him if he wasn't fixed," BJ reasoned. But the Tech could see his hands clenching the steering wheel tightly.

"What if he's broken?" Tenho questioned, his tone quiet, almost as if he was ashamed of asking.

Before he could stop himself, the Tech countered, "Who isn't broken?"

No one talked after that. No one had the chance to. BJ was turning off into a driveway that was long enough to be a street. The Tech couldn't breathe. He could only watch as a looming, dreary building approached them. The building looked like it could suck them in, and the Tech, for a brief second, felt an ounce of pity for the people who could never leave.

After an agonizing minute, the car reached the building, and the Tech audibly gasped. Sitting on the steps of the gray structure was his singer, his lover.

"777!" He exclaimed, feeling dazed but awake, almost like he woke up from a restful sleep. He fumbled with his seatbelt and pushed the door open before BJ had the car stopped. His worn sneakers touched the asphalt once the vehicle was in park and he walked to the steps. The exuberance he momentarily felt had weakened.

The Tech watched as the singer stood up and looked down at the official looking woman he had been sitting next to—the doctor he spoke on the phone with, perhaps?—then as he descended the steps. The Tech knew he should have been taking in his appearance, but that was not his priority. The first thing he needed to do was to touch him, just to assure himself that the singer was okay.

The two came to a stop when they were a few inches apart. But they didn't move after that. To the Tech, it was like they were standing on opposite ends of a bridge that they were both afraid to cross. And that was when the last vestige of hope faded.

The silence was disturbed by Tenho rushing forward and hugging 777. The singer was almost knocked off his feet, the Tech observed, and he wondered why he couldn't do the same thing. Tearing his eyes from the scene, he looked at BJ who was slowly sauntering toward them, his step lacking its normal swagger. He looked back at 777, seeing a small flicker in his eyes, a scattered remnant of fear and anger generating within them.

Suddenly, the Tech was slammed by the words he remembered that 777 and BJ had exchanged. The air around them fluctuated between uncomfortable and unbearable. All of them were thinking about it, he just knew.

"I bet you're a real addict now, huh?! Got any needle holes in your arms yet?"

"'Least I never shoved my fingers down my fuckin' throat!"

But the two men exchanged no words. Instead, 777 grabbed his hand—it felt more obligatory than out of love or need—and nodded toward the car. And the Tech couldn't help but wonder if any of them were going to survive the trip back.

So what did you think? Hopefully you liked it, because, hey, 777's in it now! Truthfully, we're nearing the end of the story, I believe, so I hope it's not disappointing you. Please review and let me know, okay?