Burdens of a Depressive Mind
Fire Angel

Disclaimer: I'll admit here that I do not own Gackt, Hyde, nor any other J-Rocker mentioned in this story, nor do I claim to know them. Their lives and actions are not mine, however, in this story I've taken them and twisted them to do my own free will. Therefore - their actions here, whilst based on things they've said in interviews and such, are not necessarily true. This is not gospel. It's fiction. Take it or leave it. ^^

Chapter 5

I woke up early the next morning with an uncomfortably-aching backside and deliciously-imprinted memories in the very front of my mind: Hyde holding me to his body as he slowly slid himself inside me, his warm teasing smiles and mocking laughs, the soft sound of his ragged moans as he kissed me harshly and passionately, the glazed look in his eyes when he’d thrown his head back in release, the way he’d smiled at me after, like we were the only people in the world right then (perhaps, I thought, we had been).

My hair was matted with dried sweat and stuck unattractively (I assumed) to my forehead. I smelt hot, like a cocktail of sweat and spent semen. My thong was grating painfully against the ache in my ass and, from the feel of things, I’d ejaculated into it too. Fantastic, another thong ruined…

But, I thought, I would ruin my entire underwear collection if only I could spend every night in such a delightful way… Hyde was…

Now wait just a fucking minute.

I’d spunked in my underwear?? My underwear??

What happened to being wonderfully naked and tangled up with Hyde’s svelte, perfectly perfect body?

I sat up at a speed that quite possibly doubled the speed of light (if not more) and looked anxiously around my room, taking in every single minute detail as my eyes slowly widened in horror and realisation.

Bed: made up perfectly, a little wrinkled. Me, clothed. No Hyde.

Bedside table: candle. Empty bottle of sake. Clock reading 5 a.m.. No Hyde.

Other bedside table: candle. Remnants of smashed shot glass. No Hyde.

Computer desk: PC switched off, printer left on. Lighter plus pack of smokes. No Hyde.

Computer chair: swivelled to face away from desk. No Hyde. Hyde’s jacket not there either.

Floor: more remnants of smashed shot glass. Empty dog basket. Expensive rug. No Hyde.

Adjoining spa/massage room: the usual. No Hyde.

I was utterly and completely alone, and (I realised about thirty seconds later as my aching head, churning gut and vision of empty sake bottle connected in my brain) severely hung over. Had I drunk all that myself? Had I merely dreamed the whole scenario? Had Hyde even come to my house at all last night? Why wasn’t I dead? Actually – why wasn’t I dead? The severe humiliation of waking to a wet pair of underpants after a horny dream about a now-friend started to set in. Oh my God, I worried, oh my God…

But, I reasoned with myself, there was still the unexplained ache in my backside and the pack of smokes (not mine) on the computer desk. Perhaps it had all happened, and then Hyde had enjoyed a post-coital smoke before removing himself from my company to return to his wife, who was surely waiting up for him? (That thought, I admit, made me clench my fists in jealous anger.) But then why would he have left his cigarettes here? Things were getting very confusing.

Meanwhile, my stomach was throwing around (literally) a demand that it needed to rid itself of its contents, preferably quickly. Therefore, with a resigned grumble I obeyed the wishes of my body and trudged sulkily to the bathroom, emptying my churning gut of a half bottle of sake, half of last night’s dinner, and a month’s supply of stomach acid.

Yuck. How fucking disgusting.

Once I was done, I made for my bedroom again, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery before removing the combined layer of sweat, salt and semen that had formed over more than ninety-percent of my body (I said combined layer, all right? I did not come all over my arms, legs and face as well as in my pants, thanks very much. I’m talented, but not that fucking good.) And as before, I checked around the room, more thoroughly this time, taking note of everything and trying to piece it together in my mind.

Adjoining spa/massage room: the usual. Innocently clean. Sticky whitish substance on edge of bathtub quickly taste-tested and proven to be soap. Still no Hyde. No longish blonde hairs or fingernail scrapes on walls, either.

Floor: remnants of half a smashed shot glass. Empty dog basket. Expensive rug. Otherwise spotless. Only hairs on floor belonging to myself and Bell, and one blonde one but too short to be Hyde’s. Most likely You’s. No signs of sexual tussle. In fact no signs of anything. Still no Hyde.

Computer chair: swivelled to face away from desk. Still no Hyde. Still also no sign of Hyde’s jacket. Definitely no sign of chair-sex.

Computer desk: PC switched off, printer left on. Red lighter plus half-used pack of smokes – Hyde’s favourite brand. On the other hand, still no Hyde. And as for sex, not feasible on such a crowded desk. No room.

Bedside table: candle. Remnants of other half of smashed shot glass. Draws opened and all sex toys proven to be in place and untouched. Still no Hyde, either on table or in drawers. Definitely no room for sex unless of the sitting kind, and only then with a candle up the ass.

Other bedside table: candle. Empty bottle of sake. A cheapish brand I would never buy therefore it must’ve been given to me. Clock reading 5:10 a.m.. Still no Hyde. Definitely no room for sex unless of the sitting kind, and only then with a candle and a sake bottle up the ass.

Bed: made up perfectly, a little wrinkled. Still no Hyde. In fact, completely vacant, save a not-broken shot glass lying right where my ass had been. Wrinkles could be attributed to wild sex with Hyde but most likely not.

Unbroken shot glass? Lying right where my ass had been?

I blinked. I blinked again. And then, disbelievingly, I picked up the warm shot glass, staring at it with wide eyes. I could feel colour streaking its way up my cheeks and to my brain to inform me that the only pain in my backside had been caused by the fact that I was lying on a phallic-shaped object!!!!!!! And I had slept on it!!!!!!! (And, most likely, received extreme pleasure from it during my alcohol-induced dream!!!!!!!)

If it wasn’t for the fact that Hyde’s lighter and cigarettes were still lying on my desk, and the fact that I now realised I had been drinking with Hyde as opposed to myself, and the fact that I was overcome with curiosity as to what had actually happened, I think I would’ve hidden under the covers in embarrassment and never emerged. To think. Scandalously erotic dreams caused by a fucking (almost literally) shot glass.

But wait – had it been a dream? How much of it was real? Had our toasting gone on in such a ridiculous fashion? Definitely. Had I told Hyde he was beautiful? Probably. Had he admitted to being bisexual? Most likely not. Had I fondled and teased him? Definitely not. And had he called me a tease and fucked my brains out? Oh, duh Gackt.

I was beginning to see where the reality had ended and the dream had begun:

Gackt places his glass carefully on the bedside table, and lies down next to Hyde, smiling sleepily and dopily, but happily too. “You’re beautiful, Hyde-chan,” he drawls, “have I ever told you that?”

Hyde grins widely, showing all of his white, crooked teeth. “You’re drunk, Gacchan,” he laughs. “You should get some sleep.”

He giggles drunkenly. “Okay, okay, I will. Goodnight, Hyde-chan.” Promptly, he falls asleep.

“Oyasumi,” the older man smiles, patting Gackt on the head before leaving the room. Meanwhile, Gackt dreams…

I was an idiot. A stupid, fucking idiot. How could I have ever thought that Hyde would want to sleep with me?

Again, I cursed myself for being such a fool.

After a little while, I trudged despondently downstairs, cleaned up, wanked off and sliced up sufficiently enough to pass the day in what should have been relative peace. However, when I found Hyde sitting at my dining room table, munching nonchalantly on an apple whilst squinting at the morning newspaper (obviously he hadn’t brought his glasses) and playing footsie with my dog’s belly, all plans of a peaceful day went down the drain. I was suddenly sure that, given two hours or less, he would be gone, and I would either be facedown on You’s bed as he fucked into me, or locked in my bathroom with a strange cocktail of blood, semen and saltwater tears flooding over my legs.

I would’ve run, but suddenly he was looking up and right at me, a slight grin parting his cherry lips. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he teased, “I was just about to come wake you.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. Do you want some breakfast?” he offered, waving his apple at me and ignoring my grump. “I can make you a coffee if you’d like.”

I stared at him. Just like Hyde, to feel so comfortable that he was offering me food and drink in my own house. It was sweet of him, really, but in my hungover, not-fucked state, I was (unfairly) nursing a rather nasty resentment towards him, and instead of thanking him like I rightly should have, I just shrugged, grunted a negative response and turned my attentions to Bell.

“Gacchan. Daijoubu?”

I ignored him and let Bell sniff interestedly at the new wounds on the insides of my wrists. As long as I was looking at the dog, I figured, I was okay. If I looked at Hyde again, I would cry.

“Gackt? Is something wrong?”

Go away. You don’t exist. You have no power over me. You’re in my head. Fuck off and stop asking me questions.

“What is it? What did I do?”

Nothing! You didn’t do anything! It’s all me, Hyde-chan, I’m fucked in the head and there’s nothing anyone can do to fix it! Please, please stop asking these questions…

“Gacchan, why are you angry at me?” He was crouched at my back by now, his hand hovering, hesitating, above my shoulder, his voice filled with concern and worry. “Please… talk to me.”

Hyde, no…

“Please, Gacchan.”

I gave in. The pleading tone in his voice cut at my heart more than the pain of not having him. I couldn’t make him unhappy, I just couldn’t. I twisted on the floor to face him, tears welling in my bloodshot eyes as I saw those all-too-familiar browns staring back at me, wide with worry.

Even first thing in the morning, make-up-less and hungover, he looked beautiful. Why was he always so beautiful?

“Gacchan…?”

I started to cry.

“Gach-chan!” Hyde gasped worriedly as I collapsed into him in a melting puddle of helpless tears and sobs.

“Hyde… Hyde-chan…”

“What’s wrong? What’s the problem, Gacchan?”

When he asked me that, there were many things I could have told him. Many things I guess I should have told him. Hyde, I’ve had a crush on you for ten years. Hyde, I’ve wanted to meet you for too long. Hyde, I jerk off over your image every day and have for as long as I knew of your existence. Hyde, you’re a wonderful person. Hyde, you’re beautiful. Hyde, I’m sort of scared because the thought of you being with Megumi makes me really sad. Hyde, I want you to love me. Hyde, I want to die. Hyde, I’m glad I’ve met you. Hyde, you’re perfect. Hyde, I’m sorry, Hyde…

Instead, I curled into his chest, closing my eyes tight so I wouldn’t see the disapproval in his eyes, and offered him my wrist so he could see what I fool I’d made of myself. What a fool I continually made of myself.

He held my arm for a long, long time before he spoke. “………Gach-chan…” He didn’t sound angry or disapproving, just gentle and sincere, as always. “Oh, Gacchan. Why did you do it?”

“I don’t know,” I sobbed helplessly, digging my nose further into his chest. “I just thought… maybe… it would stop the pain…”

“Pain? What pain? Gacchan…”

“Just… everything… everything always hurts, Hyde-chan……… I am always in such pain. I just wanted it to stop. Hyde… I… I hate myself, Hyde.”

“No – no you don’t!” my friend declared loudly, vehemently, his arms closing firmly around me and pulling me tightly to him as I cried. “Don’t say it, it’s not true, ne… you don’t hate yourself, Gacchan. You don’t.”

“Yes, I do. I’m such a freak…”

Hyde grabbed and held me by the shoulders, out at arm’s length, staring me down with his wide brown eyes. “Gacchan, Gacchan… you are not a freak, don’t you understand?! Remember what Shinji-kun said to you… please… just… try.”

I didn’t answer. I was too afraid of spilling everything. Of telling him how I really felt. Of losing his suddenly-invaluable friendship. I was so scared. So instead of replying, I just turned my head to the side and stared pointedly at Bell until Hyde loosened his grip on my shoulders and, with a soft sigh, let me go. Silently, he got to his feet and left the room. Bell gave me a sort of disgusted, ‘why didn’t you tell him the truth, you idiot?’ look and then trotted obediently after him.

Again, I was alone.

Once I’d calmed down, and Hyde had forcibly (albeit unhappily) ‘forgotten’ the cutting/crying incident, he informed me that, the night before, I had dropped like a dead stone after cheerfully agreeing on his toast to his own glory.

“To… ME!” Hyde yells, flopping back into the pillows with a delighted laugh as he drains his last glass, before tossing it uselessly aside. “Ahhh…”

“I’ll drink to that,” Gackt says, and does.

Then, letting his glass drop carelessly on the bed, Gackt falls unceremoniously into a dead faint on top of it, murmuring something about Hyde’s beauty.

After that Hyde got up and headed downstairs, where he slept through the remainder of the night on the couch – quite comfortably, he said, until Bell decided that he was her new victim for random doggy blowjobs and tried to crawl down his pants, hence the fact that he was up and awake so early. (He maintained, in fact, that he was planning on removing said comfortable couch from my house very soon. I told him with a grin that I’d christened it with Mana and You and possibly a few other people and he changed his mind.)

So the truth was out. I hadn’t slept with Hyde. (Well, not physically, anyway.)

I was relieved however, that, in being downstairs on the couch, he had not been witness to my REM-sleep. Although I hadn’t been witness to it myself, I had a feeling that it had involved a lot of tossing and turning and random repetitions of my friend’s name in several different pitches of voice and scream. Throw in a few moans, a few ‘oh yes oh yes’s, and there’s no doubt really what you’re dreaming about.

I was glad he hadn’t seen. Really glad.

However, that afternoon, I found myself lying on my bed with You, crying, and letting him hold me.

After all, small reliefs could only bring small pleasures.

And pleasure could bring small relief.

For the following two weeks, I found myself strategically avoiding Hyde – ignoring his phone calls and messages, deleting his mails, keeping my keitai switched off at all times and therefore escaping his ten daily calls. (Persistent, non-Gackt-fucking bastard.)

I couldn’t talk to him anymore, I’d informed (or rather yelled at) You when he’d tried to convince me to reply to the five angry messages left by my friend-cum-crush on my answering machine. If I talked to him, I’d break down again. I’d go mad. I already was, I maintained, going crazy – my mind constantly replayed the dream I’d had that night, and memories stuck in my brain as if they’d been real. And I still wished with all my heart that they had been.

It still made me feel sick to think of it.

Therefore, when my managerial staff called to politely (and wincingly, by the sound of their voices) warn me that they could no longer put off the board meetings with Hyde and his management, and that we would finally have to meet to discuss the storyline of ‘Moon’, I wanted to cry. (In fact, I did cry, but let’s not tell anyone that, ne…?) We set the date – Monday week – leaving me with seven days of relative peace of mind before I was accosted by Hyde and his glaring staff members.

It was then, of course, the instant I hung up the phone, that my plans for peace of mind were legally destroyed in the form of a demanding knock on the door. (Murphy’s Law, or what?) Of course, said plans were further shattered when I found myself face to face with…

…no, it wasn’t Hyde.

It was Mana. Dressed normally – ie., like a girl. (He, by the way, was coming a very close second on my list of ‘people I do not wish to talk to’ of the moment. Shows what I know.)

He smiled warmly at me as I opened the door, his overly made-up eyes shining as he offered me the (may I mention the word huge?) bouquet of flowers he held in his arms.

“Gacchan,” he breathed in his soft, effeminate voice, “o-genki desu ka?”

“Arigatou. Genki yo,” I said as I accepted the flowers with a slight bow. “Why so formal, Mana-chan?”

He frowned for a moment until he realised I was talking about his speech. “Oh. It’s nothing, really. I just… gomen… I thought maybe you’d be angry at me.”

I shrugged. “Ii yo. Everyone deals with such things in different ways, ne?”

“Sou ka…? Dakedo… I… acted like a child.”

“Dakedo nothing. Are you coming in or are you going to make us both freeze our pants off? Or dresses,” I added belatedly with a slight laugh.

Mana smiled and tangled his fingers in his long black hair, stepping inside and kicking his heels off in the general direction of the wall (I cannot ween any of my friends off that damned shoe-removal habit). “If only,” he sighed dramatically, “your pants would freeze off, Gacchan. I hear that the mouth is a great warming device, anyhow…”

I laughed again and shot him a quick look. “Dream on, Mana-chan.”

Then, as I suddenly realised what I’d just said, my heart sank and I broke down in a helpless fit of tears, collapsing against Mana’s chest and sobbing meaningless syllables into his neck.

“Ga… Gacchan?” he asked in sudden alarm, his arms closing smoothly around me, his fingers stroking through my short, colourless hair. “Daijoubu?”

“…Dai…joubu… janai,” I managed eventually, sucking in a deep breath of air and levelling my eyes with his. “Gomen. I am always sad, nowadays.”

“Why, Gacchan?” His eyes grew suspicious. And suddenly, he snapped, “It’s Hyde, isn’t it? What did he do to you?”

“Nothing!” I cried. “That’s the problem! He’s so… straight! And my mind is tormenting me, wondering what it would be like, and…”

“Oh, Gackt…”

“I’m sorry Mana, I’m sorry I can’t care for you that way!! I’m sorry! Ima dake… only now do I start to understand… gomen da yo!!”

“Gacchan, don’t apologise…”

“But I have to, I feel so bad and…”

“I never asked you to love me back,” he said softly, reaching up and stroking his fingers across my cheek, letting them linger for a few moments when he reached my quivering lips. “I just wanted you to understand how I feel, ne…”

“Soshite… ima… wakatte, wakatte yo, Mana-chan… gomen, gomen yo…”

“Ii yo, Gacchan, ii yo… nakanaide yo…”

I looked at him then, into those sympathetic lantern eyes of his, and I wondered how I could ever have despised him, even with everything we’d been through, even though I’d had every reason in the world to hate him. Sometime in the distant past he’d been a comrade-in-arms, a close friend, a respected musician, a dependable shoulder to cry on (not to mention a pretty damn good fuck). And now…

What, I wondered, had happened to us?

Mana took a step forward, looking curiously up at me and rubbing his lips anxiously against one another as he further closed the already-small gap between our bodies, until his chest was pushed firmly against mine.

“Gacchan,” he said slowly, reaching up and letting his fingers wander mindlessly across my lips, time and time again. “Gomen… I know I shouldn’t be thinking this, but… I am.”

“I know,” I admitted, almost choking on my own libido as it swelled astonishingly quickly at the feel of my friend’s small body pressed up against me, “I am too.”

“You… are?”

“…Yes. I am.”

Almost before I realised what was happening, Mana had claimed my lips in a firm, deep kiss, and his hands were braced on my chest, his fingers splayed and dancing. For a surprised moment we stumbled around the entranceway, nearly tripping over his shoes but eventually making it safely to the wall. Forcing him up against it, I worked my body against his, cradling his groin with my knee through the material of his dress, and rubbing myself against his leg until both of us were ragingly hard, gasping for air and kissing forcefully, messily.

Mana groaned loudly into my mouth and then slipped his tongue inside so I could taste and tease him with mine. Smiling, I responded, languidly returning his kisses, and sucking so firmly on his tongue that I almost choked myself on it. He laughed when I gagged, but when I slid my hands under the hem of his dress and caressed him through the lacy material of his underwear, his chuckles were reduced to whimpers and he sagged against the wall, his head tilted back and soft moans escaping from his mouth in the form of my name.

Taking the opportunity of his bared throat, I let my mouth trail down across his lips and chin, delivering little, quick kisses and then long, wet kisses to his skin. I was panting. He was moaning. We were both deliriously horny. I guess somewhere inside, we were both crying, too. But the beauty was, that for a little while, we could forget that pain, instead reserving a few moments of pleasure for ourselves.

And oh, what moments of pleasure they were.

I’d forgotten how good my sexual chemistry with Mana had been. (And, it appeared, how good it still was.) But as I nibbled at his earlobe and whispered hotly, “Come up to my bedroom, Mana-chan,” I swear that every spare inch of me was thinking: more more moremoremoremore. Not a single cell in my body argued with that thought.

I wanted him.

Mana shoved me away when I said that. But it was only to stare helplessly into my eyes and gasp disbelievingly, “Your… bedroom? I… couldn’t, Gacchan.”

“Why not?”

“I… I just couldn’t.”

I laughed then, and rasped with a barbaric grin, “Okay then. As you wish. We’ll just do this here.” Then I crouched down and ducked under the hem of his skirt, closing my mouth over his cock through the material of his lace panties and laughing out loud as he half-collapsed onto me and screeched my name, his hands flying and trying to find something to clutch.

“Gacchan! Gacchan…!” he cried in distress. “We can’t do this here!”

“Thankyou,” I grated, removing myself from his skirt and swooping him up in my arms. “Bedroom it is.”

We never got to my room. In the end we collapsed in a heap on the stairs after a slight trip on my behalf (I maintain to this day the fact that it is nigh impossible to walk up a flight of stairs whilst carrying and kissing someone with your eyes closed). And, too lazy and too content to struggle back to my feet and then carry Mana the rest of the way up, I just rolled over on top of him and started kissing him senseless, humping him into the floor as my wandering hands found and carefully unlaced the bodice built into the front of his dress. Together, we groaned, we kissed, we panted, we undressed, we fucked and we came. Then we shared a long kiss, staggered up to my bed and did it all over again. And again. And again. And again.

But somewhere deep inside, some part of me was still wishing that Mana was the dream, and that the dream, the passionate one-night I’d shared with Hyde, had been real. Somewhere deeper, my soul was lonely.

And sad.

Seven days whizzed past in the fastest possible time known to man, if not faster, and before I knew it I was out of Mana’s naked embrace and thrown rather viciously into a meeting full of glaring suit-wearing men, and one particularly beautiful waif with silvery eyes and white-blonde hair and porcelain skin and a clinging black shirt. A cigarette hung casually from his mouth like the world’s best advertisement for whatever brand it was he was smoking. (Meanwhile, I had about seventy – if not more – nicotine patches stuck in various places over my body – Mana had had good fun with them when I complained about his post-coital smoke earlier that morning.)

And he was glaring at me.

As calm as his ‘look at me, I’m a doll’ disposition seemed to possibly every other person in the room (A.K.A. non-Hyde-obsessives or at least not ones of ten whole years and counting), underneath, Hyde was steaming. Probably, I figured, it had something to do with the slightly-important fact that I had basically snobbed him right off for the past three weeks. (Oops. When I thought of it that way… God I was a rude bastard.)

Probably, I figured, he had been worried – despite his promise of forgetfulness – about my skin-dicing incident those twenty-one days before.

Probably, I figured, he was going to chase me down and kill me after the board meeting. (The fangirl in me hoped that he would grab me and stab me in the back with a cursed knife. On the other hand the bisexual in me hoped that he would suffocate me with choking hot kisses. Oh well, either way.)

Probably, I figured, it would be best for me to continue ignoring Hyde. (Okay, so my sense of logic is seriously fucked up. Shoot me if you wish.)

Therefore, that is exactly what I did. When the board meeting was over, I threw my jacket smoothly over my shoulders, slid my sunglasses over my eyes and stalked on out of there in a dignified pose that I really hoped made me look like anything other than a man running from destiny, all before my crush-cum-friend-cum-ignored-acting-buddy could even think to rouse himself from the ‘I’m in a board meeting and trying not to sleep’ mode his mind had fallen into over the course of the day.

I was safe.

Out on the street, I climbed into a taxi with Hyde’s incensed cries of “Gackt! Hey, Gackt! GACKT! Don’t fucking ignore me, asshole! Gackt!” ringing angrily through my head, and the sound of his sneakers slapping against the pavement as he chased me echoing dully in my ears. The combined sounds formed a strange melodic rhythm that pulsed in my head for the whole drive home. I felt sick. And I hated myself for hurting him.

But at least I was safe.

I arrived home late afternoon to the sight of my answering machine blinking plaintively at me, the message indicator showing a big bright ‘eleven’. (Wow, I thought bitterly, I was getting popular. Really popular.)

“Hey,” the first message addressed me in a sweet laugh as I pressed ‘play’ and sunk tiredly into the dining room chair. It was Mana. “I guess you’ve just left. Oh well. I was just wanting to wish you good luck for today but… Hey, when you get back, call me, ne? I’ll come over if you need to talk. Okay? I’ll speak to you soon then. Mata ne.”

Click beep scroll.

“Gacchan, it’s me,” You sighed in an abnormally despairing voice. “……I didn’t want to bug you about this but it’s really starting to upset me now and… Look, I came by today and… well… I saw Mana’s car in the driveway and… I just…… I’m jealous, I guess. Strange, ne? Hyde I can handle but Mana… well, I thought you guys didn’t talk anymore. I…… look, just… forget it, ne. Gomen.”

Click beep scroll.

“Gacchan, hi.” You. “Just… look, forget that last message, all right? I shouldn’t have asked. It was…… Well, call me and let me know how your board meeting goes, okay? I’m worried about you… So… yeah. Bye.”

Click beep scroll.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Gackt.” My manager. “Just wanted to make sure you were on your way. Obviously you are, or you’re sleeping somewhere. Okay. I’ll see you soon then, I hope. Ja, mata.”

Click beep scroll.

“Gackt…” My manager again, sounding almost tentative when she spoke. “I just thought I should let you know, ne… Hyde-san is really angry with you for some reason. He came back inside after you left and tried to quit the project. We told him to talk it over with you, but… he was really mad. Please give him a call. Then call me. What’s going on, anyway?”

Click beep scroll.

“Listen, asshole,” Hyde hissed angrily, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, but I’ve had enough of your fucking attitude, all right? If you don’t fucking call me back soon, I’m out, you hear me? I’m not going to pander to your fucking needs while you run around and play king. I thought we were friends. What happened to your precious fucking destiny, Gackt? Well?”

Click beep scroll.

“Look, Gacchan.” Mana again. “I’m still worried about you. And I’m worried because you haven’t called me back yet. Okay, look. As I said, just call me, okay? Okay? I’ll keep calling until you do.”

Click beep scroll.

“Gackt, are you just ignoring the phone or are you really not there?” Shinji. “Hey. Hyde called me before. He sounded really upset. I couldn’t catch much of what he was saying but your name was mentioned and he was freaking out. Do me a favour and call him, all right? I’m worried about the two of you.”

Click beep scroll.

“And I thought dealing with a wife was bad,” Hyde snarled. “It’s fucking nothing compared to your superiority. Fucking call me back, Gackt. I mean it. You’re really pissing me off now.”

Click beep scroll.

“STOP FUCKING IGNORING ME!”

Click beep scroll.

“You,” Hyde said in disgust, “can go fuck yourself, Camui.”

Click long beep rewind beep.

I called Mana and asked him tearfully to come over.

I called You and told him that there was nothing between me and Mana.

I called Shinji and told him that Hyde and I were just having a small argument but we’d sort it out soon.

I called management and told them that Hyde was definitely staying in the movie, that we’d just had a small argument but it was now resolved.

But I didn’t ever call Hyde back.