Fire Brigade
Title: Theme # 2- News; letter
Author: EarnestInBerlin
Pairings: Gakutsu, Haitsu
Rating: PG
Summary: An unrequited love thing. Someone dies here. Oh, look, it’s Gackt. I love Gakutsu. =)
Unfair
You walked slowly, wondering what made you take the letter from his friends’ hands. His other buddies could’ve done it for him anyway, they all known each other for so long. It only seemed appropriate for them to do it. But you insist.
You had to insist.
You two have become intimate associates because of your connections to this man. So they gave you this opportunity, all in the name of friendship.
So you took that chance, in the hopes of something more.
Nonetheless as you walked up the steps to his apartment, you realized, why did you really do this?
What made you take the last love letter he has written for his koibito and volunteer to tell him of the horrifying truth at hand? What role are you but another name of a concerned friend? You know, but you fought against the doubts and demons that clouded your mind.
From the day you realized that your heart yearned for his touch, hungered for his soul, and ached for his love… You were just playing the game of a love triangle worth for a teenage flick.
You were the one who fell in love with your best friend’s girl. Your face showed sorrow, as you tapped on the door. You know you couldn’t change anything, not even when one of them is already dead.
6969696969
You cradled him gently as he collapsed in your arms. His face was made to look scared, to look confused and most of all to portray the emotion of denial. His hands have already lost its hold on the paper that caused his knees to morph into jelly. You looked at him and tried to pull him back up to his feet, or at least bring him near to a chair where he can limp like all the bones in his body have disappeared.
So you hooked your arms around his form and carried him as best as you can to his couch. When you finally succeeded at the task, you kneel in front of him; he didn’t seem to notice that he was conceiving diamonds of sadness. His dark eyes looked at you, but he was staring right through you.
You cupped his face and forced his eyes to look at only you. You fed him with comforting words, and reassured him with promises that tumbled carelessly out of your mouth.
And Tetsu breathed in hard.
He shook a bit then proceeded to cry on your shoulder. His voice joined, a chorus of deep angst slowly racking his body.
You covered him with your arms and took him in the same way Hyde would’ve done if he was still alive. You buried him inside you, as the tiny pieces of his heart began cracking and leaving wet trails on your shoulder.
As you take him in, you thought that for a moment pretending to be him would at least give you a microcosm of his love.
So you did what you know Hyde would if the man was here, you kissed him. You kissed his hair and smelled that delicious scent the small vocalist must have adored and treasured.
And you lulled him again with sentiments that people would say to those mourning for a great loss. You tuck away the strands of hair back to his ear and brush the messy locks to their places.
You pulled away and kissed his forehead, then kissed the tip of his nose. You kissed his cheeks and even kissed the wet trails of tears.
But never once did you steal from his lips.
His eyes refused to open, as he imagined you were nothing but a hellish fantasy. He pretended that the letter you brought him was created by a nightmare, cleverly produced by a grand imagination.
He was biting his lower lip, his head titled up a bit trying to balance the tears. Hoping that if he just looked up, maybe they would keep still inside his eyes.
You looked at him so sadly.
He refused to believe that the kisses he received were from you. He refused to believe that he was held in your arms.
He refused to believe he was hearing Camui Gackt’s voice. He closed his eyes and repeated the dead man’s name over and over. He asked himself why everything had to come to this. He talked to you in whispered hush about trying to be perfect.
He told you how he just wanted to watch over the vocalist’s health, because he doesn’t want the man to die young.
And you listened.
Between you and that piece of paper, the latter could open up his soul because the blood at the end belonged to someone else.
It was unfair, you thought again, although they found each other first.
Unfair, the voice of jealousy repeated.
Author: EarnestInBerlin
Pairings: Gakutsu, Haitsu
Rating: PG
Summary: An unrequited love thing. Someone dies here. Oh, look, it’s Gackt. I love Gakutsu. =)
Unfair
You walked slowly, wondering what made you take the letter from his friends’ hands. His other buddies could’ve done it for him anyway, they all known each other for so long. It only seemed appropriate for them to do it. But you insist.
You had to insist.
You two have become intimate associates because of your connections to this man. So they gave you this opportunity, all in the name of friendship.
So you took that chance, in the hopes of something more.
Nonetheless as you walked up the steps to his apartment, you realized, why did you really do this?
What made you take the last love letter he has written for his koibito and volunteer to tell him of the horrifying truth at hand? What role are you but another name of a concerned friend? You know, but you fought against the doubts and demons that clouded your mind.
From the day you realized that your heart yearned for his touch, hungered for his soul, and ached for his love… You were just playing the game of a love triangle worth for a teenage flick.
You were the one who fell in love with your best friend’s girl. Your face showed sorrow, as you tapped on the door. You know you couldn’t change anything, not even when one of them is already dead.
6969696969
You cradled him gently as he collapsed in your arms. His face was made to look scared, to look confused and most of all to portray the emotion of denial. His hands have already lost its hold on the paper that caused his knees to morph into jelly. You looked at him and tried to pull him back up to his feet, or at least bring him near to a chair where he can limp like all the bones in his body have disappeared.
So you hooked your arms around his form and carried him as best as you can to his couch. When you finally succeeded at the task, you kneel in front of him; he didn’t seem to notice that he was conceiving diamonds of sadness. His dark eyes looked at you, but he was staring right through you.
You cupped his face and forced his eyes to look at only you. You fed him with comforting words, and reassured him with promises that tumbled carelessly out of your mouth.
And Tetsu breathed in hard.
He shook a bit then proceeded to cry on your shoulder. His voice joined, a chorus of deep angst slowly racking his body.
You covered him with your arms and took him in the same way Hyde would’ve done if he was still alive. You buried him inside you, as the tiny pieces of his heart began cracking and leaving wet trails on your shoulder.
As you take him in, you thought that for a moment pretending to be him would at least give you a microcosm of his love.
So you did what you know Hyde would if the man was here, you kissed him. You kissed his hair and smelled that delicious scent the small vocalist must have adored and treasured.
And you lulled him again with sentiments that people would say to those mourning for a great loss. You tuck away the strands of hair back to his ear and brush the messy locks to their places.
You pulled away and kissed his forehead, then kissed the tip of his nose. You kissed his cheeks and even kissed the wet trails of tears.
But never once did you steal from his lips.
His eyes refused to open, as he imagined you were nothing but a hellish fantasy. He pretended that the letter you brought him was created by a nightmare, cleverly produced by a grand imagination.
He was biting his lower lip, his head titled up a bit trying to balance the tears. Hoping that if he just looked up, maybe they would keep still inside his eyes.
You looked at him so sadly.
He refused to believe that the kisses he received were from you. He refused to believe that he was held in your arms.
He refused to believe he was hearing Camui Gackt’s voice. He closed his eyes and repeated the dead man’s name over and over. He asked himself why everything had to come to this. He talked to you in whispered hush about trying to be perfect.
He told you how he just wanted to watch over the vocalist’s health, because he doesn’t want the man to die young.
And you listened.
Between you and that piece of paper, the latter could open up his soul because the blood at the end belonged to someone else.
It was unfair, you thought again, although they found each other first.
Unfair, the voice of jealousy repeated.