Kimi dake o
Fire Angel
Disclaimer:
No, I don’t own Hyde and I don’t own Gackt. I most certainly don’t own
Mana either. Nor L’Arc~en~ciel. Pity that. Pity all
of that. :) There’s a lot of things I don’t own, this computer not included.
This computer, in an odd juxtaposition, is mine.
Author’s
Note: This
wonderful piece of art (in my own opinion obviously) is a slashy piece between
Gackt and Hyde. Okay, not slashy, just plain slash. It’s as simple as that. Its title means
‘only you’ and is taken straight from a Gackt song: ‘Kimi ga Matte iru
kara’. Which is an awesome song by the way. But back to what I was saying,
it’s a parallel narrative and therefore may get some people confused. So as a
clue: Hyde talks first! And then they swap after that. But if you know anything
about either one of them this should be a cinch for you. :) Well, enjoy! Any
comments can be e-mailed to ruinfea@hotmail.com :ob
Ciao!
I must admit that when he asked me to be a part of his
movie I was sort of surprised. Okay, more than that. Really surprised.
I mean, we’d met before, but only once or twice, and
even then we’d never really talked. Sort of a “hi, nice to meet you, bye,”
moment. If you’d asked me about him my standardised answer would have been:
“Oh yeah, him, I’ve heard of him. Actually, we might’ve met… I can’t
remember, sorry. I like his new song though.”
Well, now you can ask me about him and your
standardised answer will be floating dangerously between admiration and a dreamy
recount of the time we spent together. (And it’ll be hanging precariously on
the edge of fantasy as well. My imagination has a habit of carrying me away into
the clouds.) Every second word will be his name. And every other word will be me
describing something funny he did once.
I swear I can hardly think of anything else. Or anyone
else.
Isn’t that awful? I mean, I’m married, I have a
kid. And yet I spend all my time dreaming about this other man.
Tell me, God… is that wrong?
~*~
I think we’d met each other seven years before or
something. So when I called him and asked him to be a part of my movie, well, he
sounded more than surprised. The time we’d met before, that one time, it was
only sort of a brief introduction by a mutual friend.
“Hey, you’re my friend, and you’re my friend.
Shake hands and then I’ll whisk one of you away to meet someone else.”
That’s what it was like. Which was a pity because his warm eyes and smile
imprinted themselves on my mind. And didn’t leave.
When I saw him on television two weeks later I was
surprised to see him fronting a band. Such a good one at that. And gradually his
voice that became imprinted on my mind too; so rich and smooth and clear and…
and perfect, really. I’ve never heard a voice so wonderful. Not even my own,
and I’ve always fancied myself a pretty reasonable singer.
So who else was I going to call? I needed a vampire,
someone sexy and smouldering, and yet with a somewhat eternal, childish look
about them. I don’t know how, but somehow, he
encompasses all these things. It’s an ethereal beauty really. (Man, I wish I
knew his secret!) Such ethereal perfection befits him, however. Sometimes he
acts like my older brother, sometimes like a little kid who needs to be taken
care of. It’s bizarre and yet I love that about him.
I just love him. Full stop.
Which is a little confusing to me. I mean, I’ve
kissed other men before, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, kind of cool
really, but… love? Love for another man… it’s something I don’t really
understand. And yet I’m feeling it, for him…
It would be so much easier if he had been born a woman.
So much fucking easier.
~*~
I said yes. I don’t know why, I’m not an actor.
Hell, I’m not even a singer but a bizarre twist of fate (being that I wanted
to be an artist only I’m colour bli d) led me to choose music as a profession.
Apparently I’m good at it. Well, Tet-chan says I am. But then, I think his
music is three times as good as mine so there you go.
Maybe it was the hope that, because he was starring in
it too, well, okay yes I admit that I was
thinking this… perhaps one thing would just lead to another and… Or maybe
there’d be some sort of semi-homo-erotic scene and we could get our groove on.
I don’t know. But there was definitely a part of me that was hoping that. More
than hoping. Praying, really.
As it was, anyway, I got to kiss his forehead. Oh yay,
go me, crusty old vampire kisses young, handsome man on the forehead, and
doesn’t even go in for a proper snog.
What the Hell is wrong with me? I should’ve just
grabbed him and ravished him. I don’t see why I didn’t, now.
I’m so pathetic.
~*~
When he called me back, and hesitantly said that
single, fateful word: “Yes”… I think I jumped for joy for about half an
hour… perhaps more. It strikes me as odd, somewhat. I’ve always been the
grown up, serious one. When Mana was running around in his schoolgirl dresses
and flaunting his frilly knickers, and everyone was positively pissing
themselves laughing, I was the one standing there with a mere smile, only
allowing the occasional snicker to emerge from my mouth. Even when he sat on me
and told me to admire the beauty that is… well… him. I can’t say I
didn’t enjoy it, because, to own the truth, I did. But at the same time I just
rolled my eyes and said (in a rather muffled voice due to my position from
underneath his crotch), “Mana, get the Hell off of me.”
So when he called, and said okay, he’d do it, and I
could barely contain my glee… I should’ve known then for sure that something
was wrong. It’s like, you baka, you’ve loved him from the beginning… and
that was just another symptom. But for some reason my slow brain had trouble
comprehending this. Maybe it’s because I was too busy trying not to conk said
brain on the ceiling. (Having an indoor trampoline can be difficult at times
when you’re happy – even when the roof of your house is getting close to ten
metres high.)
It’s been that way since. I hear his voice and I’m
reduced to the mentality of a child. Hell, even talking about him reduces my
mentality to that of a child. That interview… God, I will never live that
down. I was talking to a thirteen year old
girl and we were both freaking out and shrieking because we were talking
about him. I mean, really, how pathetic can I be?
Quite, obviously.
Jesus. Now I’m even talking to myself.
~*~
The first day on set was tense. I was trying to focus
on the script, trying hard not to cry my eyes out because there weren’t any
orgies or anything, and at the same time trying to listen to his careful
instruction, breathing in his cologne and relishing in his closeness… and
praying he wouldn’t realise I was doing just that. I felt like a kid in high
school again.
The others would laugh so hard if they knew. Me? The
one who has trouble finding love even for his own wife? Who spends his days on
tour whinging because all he really wants to do is go rollerblading (or whatever
other sport he’s got a fetish for at the time)? Oddly enough, he’s the same
one who ended up falling for another man. The same one they’ve known and been
friends with for such a long time.
Why is it always me
who ends up doing the things they least expect?
I want to tell them, I really do. It feels wrong with
them not knowing. After all, they’re like my best friends. But… I worry that
Tet-chan would be hurt. Sometimes I think he has a bit of a crush on me. Okay,
okay, perhaps more than that. He confessed love when he was drunk… but then
again, sake does affect the thinking
power of the brain… I think I confessed love for Sakura once when I was drunk,
actually. And I mean, he’s a great guy…
…but who can love Sakura when…
Oh God, I’m thinking about him again and I feel like
a weak, insipid child. I just want to cry. I thought I was past that
crying-for-no-reason stage. (I seemed to be permanently infected with it as a
child, really.) I really did think I was past it. And yet…
I just want to call you… I’m rocking my child in my
arms and thinking about you.
…There’s something wrong with me.
~*~
I’m listening to our song and thinking of him. How
lucky am I… to get to write and record a song with the one person I worship
above all. (Sorry, respective Gods and Buddhas.) And every time I listen to it I
just want to break down in tears. His voice is so… beautiful. So is he.
Everything about him is just sheer perfection. I think I mentioned this already.
But an image of him is floating around in my head and it won’t go away…
I remember one day, his wedding anniversary actually,
we went snowboarding. Or, at least, we were planning
to go snowboarding. We ended up sitting in my room, keeping warm, chatting. No,
it’s not what you think. Sure, I was poised on the end of the bed, but he was
curled up like a kitten in front of the fireplace. (Just between us, he even
purred contentedly every now and then!)
I was surprised at first that he chose to spend his own
wedding anniversary with me. (Even more surprised when he flopped down in his
graceful way, right where he’d been standing, and decided not to go
snowboarding, after all.) I was seriously hoping, in that childish and stupid
way that I do, that it would possibly mean something.
But when we got accosted by a reporter later on: “And
you spent most of the day in his room, is that right?” all he did was stare,
calmly and coldly, as if to tell her where to go without words. I did the same,
but my stare was more one of pure horror. What she was implying was exactly
what I’d been hoping for all day.
~*~
That reporter… I swear I wanted to put a fist to her
head. I’d only been fantasising about the guy all day, trying to keep my
emotion in check, keeping myself busy, and then she comes right out with such a
ridiculous question. Both of us stared in horror, shocked at the implication. Of
course, his brain was more likely on a “how dare she imply such a thing”
path, whereas mine was in overload, thinking she was some sort of psychic. She
tried changing her tact… but it didn’t really help. I was still feeling
guilty, and he still looked visibly affronted.
“I mean… you spent most of the day in his room
because… he gets sunburnt easily.”
Well, it’s true, he does. But sunburn wasn’t been
the reason I suddenly decided not to go snowboarding, or the reason why I
was feeling embarrassed. Of course, the reason for both of these things was my
selfishness. Stupid me, thinking that if I locked myself away with him for the
day, he wouldn’t be able to resist my charm and he’d just have to jump me.
In the end, he reversed my wishes. He resisted my charm
and as a result didn’t jump me.
Dammit.
~*~
There was another time; I remember it well. We were up
at his flat, trying to write the theme song for our movie. I like thinking of it
that way: our movie. Even though he gets mad at me when I say that. “It’s
not our movie,” he tells me, “you wrote it.”
“And you starred in it,” I’m forced to remind him
then. “And you’re co-writing the theme song.”
But he just rolls his eyes and tells me not to be so
ridiculous. “‘Moon Child’ was yours, not mine,” he says again. And then
goes back to playing his guitar.
He was playing on that particular day, experimenting
with chords, seeing which ones would best fit our melody and harmony lines. And
I was crashing around on my piano. But I wasn’t having much luck because I
kept getting distracted and staring at him. Damn it all to Hell, why is he so
fucking perfect?
I couldn’t handle it at the time. He was just
watching me with those intense eyes, strumming the guitar with his delicate
fingers, his lips curved in a perfect pout. A perfect pout that I was dying to
kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and kiss… I was finding it really difficult to
resist the temptation. I mean seriously, faced with this man… could you? If he
was perched on a bed in front of you, lips pouted, eyes watching, as he played
his guitar, frowning every now and then as he changed his chordal tact… could
you have resisted? I don’t know what you’re thinking but let me answer that
for you… no. You couldn’t. It’s an impossibility: physically, mentally,
otherwise. You could not be faced with
such an image and simply turn away. It’s more likely to start raining cats and
dogs.
So did I kiss him? Surprisingly, no. What I did
do, however, was moan, “How can you be a man?!”
I swear I kicked myself after I said that. How obvious
do you want to be, I mean, really?! True, it’s what I was thinking at the
time… he’s a man, isn’t he? But what does it matter when his smile is a
sin, and his eyes are like drowning pools of water…? Why should
it matter?
…Sorry, I keep getting off track. Anyway. I was
kicking myself, yelling silently at myself – you stupid baka, he’s going to
know for sure now…
But he just looked up at me, slight evidence of
surprise in those eyes, a half-smile gracing those perfect lips. Then the smile
disappeared and he looked old and sad (which was very strange because even at
the age of 35 he usually looks like he’s pushing 20, and he’s never, ever
sad either!). “I really don’t know,” he said in his quiet voice, before
turning his attention back to his guitar.
He didn’t look at me after that.
~*~
Superlive, 2003. I guess I should be excited, really.
I’m performing with the boys for the first time in… well… a long time.
We’ve got a new single coming out in a few months, and we’re returning to
the stage in what is possibly the biggest event of the year. Superlive! We even
get to perform two songs – some are
only granted enough time for one. So after much debate, we decided on our new
song (obviously) and an old favourite.
The boys are excited.
Tet-chan is jumping around like a caterpillar on
marijuana. (A strange comparison, I know, but it’s pretty accurate.)
Ken-chan’s somewhere out the back having a smoke.
(Big surprise there. That boy smokes way too much.)
Yuki-chan… he disappeared somewhere. I think he’s
trying to pick up a pretty lady. (He’d probably kill me if he knew I called
him that.)
Me… I’m wandering from dressing room to dressing
room, peering into the gloomy darkness (his door will be unmarked and his lights
turned down low, I know this like I know my own name), hoping and praying to
Heaven to spot the tell-tale glimpse of his glowing cigarette.
I’m losing hope. Maybe he won’t show after all?
~*~
I nearly choke on my cigarette when I see his face
staring in at me from the lightened hallway outside. His hands and nose are
pressed to the glass, and he’s squinting into the darkness. He looks like a
little kid, and for a minute I want to throw open the door and wrap him in my
arms and…
But no, it wasn’t meant to be. He doesn’t feel like
that, I know. Otherwise why would he still be married? They had a child
together, even. When I heard that I think my heart broke. I feel so lonely.
It would be best if he doesn’t see me.
Slowly, slowly, I lower the glowing tip of my cigarette
so it doesn’t juxtapose so harshly against the dark room. I lean further back
into the shadows, feeling the tears glisten in my eyes as I do so. Dammit, I’m
crying again.
His face falls. This must be the last room on his ‘to
check’ list. Slowly, he pulls away from the glass and starts to walk away. He
stops, glances into the darkness again, and then leaves, shoulders hunched in
dejection.
Haido-chan…
~*~
I stare into that last room for a long time. For a
moment I’m sure I see him, but then
it’s gone and I know it must’ve just been a trick of the light. So I head
back to our (thankfully empty) dressing room, put my head in my hands, and cry.
Where is he?
I just want to talk to him… I can’t perform like this! It’s not humanly
possible!
Just kill me. Please, just kill me right now…
~*~
He’s leaving… he’s leaving. Dammit, Hyde’s
leaving and I’m stuck here in this stupid,
dark dressing room!
So get the fuck out!
I slide my sunglasses down over my crying eyes and make
for the brightness of the hallway. Glancing left-right, left-right again. Jesus,
I feel like I’m crossing the road or something. But there’s no time to think
about crossing roads, baka, you’ve
got to find him before it’s too late.
There are tears streaming down my face and wrecking my
makeup. I’m going to look fantastic by the time I actually perform, but…
My mind’s wandering again.
Quickly, I set off down the hall, to the right. He
headed that way a minute ago but he’s nowhere in sight now. I’m walking
fast, almost running, checking the dressing room doors, looking for “L’Arc~en~ciel”,
or “Hyde”… or even “Tetsu” so I can burst in and ask him where the
Hell his band mate is.
“Utada Hikaru”… no. “Chemistry”… no.
“EXILE”… uhh… no. “Morning Musume”… I certainly fucking hope not.
“Laruku”…………
Okay, I admit for a minute the abbreviation shocks me
into running right past the dressing room. But a glance inside, even on my
swiftly-moving feet, reveals a hunched figure sitting on a chair, face buried in
hands. I don’t really know how I recognise him in that instant, but I do.
Oh. Baka. Laruku. Baka, baka, baka.
So I stop and open the door, well actually I back up
about seven paces, because I’m still running, and then I open the door. He hardly looks up, not even when I utter his
name.
“Tet-chan, go away,” he moans.
What?!
Tet-chan?!
~*~
Tetsu, fuck off before I kill you. Even through my
deep, brotherly love, and undying respect for you as a musician, I mean that.
Fuck off before I find a knife and really
ram it into your back. Not just for play this time, like in that PV. I’m not
in the mood to even be spoken to, let
alone glomped like you’re a massive worm on dope.
And still, he
says my name again. Making it a total of three times. Actually, I suppose it’s
interesting he’s not using my nickname, but…
Jesus, Hideto, you think some pretty messed up things
at times. Who cares what Mr. ‘I
won’t fuck off even when told’ Tetsuya is calling you? The point is, he’s
on your back and you’re trying to mourn because…
“Haido-chan.”
…because Gackt is standing right behind you saying
your name. And has been for the last few minutes.
It
was never Tet-chan at all! (I’ll apologise later.)
~*~
He stands. Spins on his feet to stare at me. And I see
that he’s crying, just like me. Wrecking his make up, just like me. Shaking
like a leaf, just like me.
And before I can say anything, he’s smiling, and
running, and his arms are outstretched, and he jumps, and I catch him
(miraculously, I must admit that his sudden leap was a bit of a shock), and he
wraps his arms around my neck and does the strangest of things.
He kisses me.
How long have I wanted him to do this for?! And suddenly he’s doing it and-
Oh. He stopped. Damn.
His eyes are inches from mine, and wide and watery and
happy and…
“Gacchan,” he whispers, and kisses me again.
-the world must seriously be falling apart from under
my feet because I feel like I’m floating… and for a moment that’s a scary
thought and I have to wrap my arms tightly around his waist because I don’t
want to fall… but he’s smiling against my lips and stroking the wispy hairs
at the back of my neck, and I know he’s not scared so I don’t have to be,
either.
So I kiss him back.
~*~
When I finally manage to disengage myself, we’re both
breathing as if we’ve run marathons. And smiling as if we’ve won.
“Missed me?” I ask him playfully, hoping that I
won’t burst into tears and look like a complete baka. Then, of course, he
looks at me and his blue eyes well up and he starts crying again. (Naturally. So
now I look like a cold, insensitive bastard.)
“Of course,” he wails, pulling me back to him,
burying his face in my shoulder, his whole body heaving as he breathes and sobs,
breathes and sobs. “Of course I missed you, Haido-chan. I love you.”
Consider the cold, insensitive bastard plan failed.
He
loves me!
“Gacchan,” I breathe softly, closing my eyes,
laying my head atop his and planting a burying a small kiss amongst the
coppery-brown hairs that highlight his head, “I love you too.”
“Well,” I hear Tet-chan declare from the doorway,
in a mixture of exasperation and glee, “it’s about bloody time.”
~Fin~