Today
Title - Today
Author - unwritten_ideas
Beta - write_my_dreams
Rating - PG-13
Word Count - 3,665
Characters - Gackt, You, Chacha, Jun-ji
Disclaimer - don’t own squat and if I did, I’d be posting this with pictures
Summary - an argument between Gackt and You threatens to not only tear the band apart, but also their friendship
“This is how it always happens,” Chacha said to Jun-ji over a cup of coffee in the little break room next to the recording studio. “They argue, and then for the next few days they give each other the silent treatment. Gackt wants to continue the argument, but You refuses, just to piss him off further, so Gackt sulks. You ignores the sulking… so Gackt sulks some more. Eventually, Gackt will get bored of sulking and will start talking to You normally and they will both carry on as if the argument never happened.”
Jun-ji added another spoon of sugar, his fourth by Chacha’s count, to his coffee. “So, we’re in the sulking and ignore stage of the argument?”
“Yeah,” Chacha confirmed. “We probably have another day or two of this before Gackt cracks and starts talking to You again.”
“What was the argument about?” Jun-ji asked, taking a sip from his coffee. Not sweet enough.
Chacha sighed. “Who knows? It’s usually something stupid and something Gackt started. I wouldn’t suggest asking though, Jun-ji. Just ride it out and wait for it to finish like everybody else does.”
Spoonful of sugar number five was added to the coffee. “It’s making recording very difficult though.”
“I know,” Chacha said with a frown. “We’ll have to work longer hours when this blows over in order to catch up.”
“I have a date this weekend,” Jun-ji explained, “I hope they haven’t made friends again by then.”
Chacha smiled in sympathy. “Let’s just say that I wouldn’t book the restaurant yet.” He glanced at the clock. “We should go back, break time is over.”
Jun-ji quickly gulped down his coffee. “Okay. Just remind me when we leave that tomorrow, I’m bringing a sweater.”
Chacha held open the door of the break room and allowed Jun-ji to leave first. “A sweater? It’s 30 degrees outside.”
“Maybe so,” Jun-ji agreed, pausing at the door that led back into the recording studio, “but in here, the air is kinda frosty, don’t you think?”
Chacha made no comment and simply followed Jun-ji back inside.
*~*~*~
As the recording continued, Chacha had to agree that it was frosty. Very frosty. It was difficult to conduct a productive recording session when two members of the band couldn’t bear to look at each other or to stand within ten feet of each other. Whatever the argument had been this time, it was serious.
It was affecting their performances too. You had repeatedly missed his cue and by the end of the song was at least five beats behind everybody else, his only explanation for his mistakes being a shrug of his shoulders and a promise that he’d get it right next time. Gackt, usually the first to point out mistakes and encourage correction, simply remained silent and made no indication that he’d heard the mistakes at all.
Although, Gackt really had no right to criticise anyone. Forgotten lyrics, mixed up verses, singing entirely the wrong song…
Maybe it was going to take more than a day or two for this argument to work itself out.
After a couple of hours of a recording session so bad that Chacha was reminded of his first time in a recording studio with a drummer so drunk he couldn’t sit on his stool without falling off and a guitarist who only knew three chords, Chacha decided to call it quits and go home. Chirolyn and Jun-ji both looked at him with eyes that screamed “thank you” and ran out of the door as quickly as they could manage, simply leaving their bass guitars and drum kit behind for the staff to deal with.
You, however, was neatly putting his guitar away in his guitar stand and Gackt was staring at a sheet of lyrics. That was, Chacha noticed, upside down. Chacha shut the door that was still shaking on his hinges slightly after the force with which Chirolyn and Jun-ji had exited and stood in front of it.
No escape routes.
“You two are such children sometimes,” Chacha said loudly.
You and Gackt both looked up, but made no comment.
Chacha sighed in exasperation. “I have no idea what pettiness has sparked the argument this time and I don’t care, but I refuse to waste another day’s recording just because you’re both still stuck in the playground. I don’t care if you’re not talking. I don’t care if you hate each other. Do not bring your dramas into the recording studio. Grow up, please.”
Still no comment. You, at least, looked a little embarrassed and apologetic for his behaviour, but Gackt was simply staring at Chacha with a force that would make most men take a step back.
Chacha, however, wasn’t most men. “Instead of giving each other the silent treatment and holding onto whatever argument has happened, talk to each other. Work things through. Your friendship is worth more than this, right? I’m sorry if I was too harsh, but we don’t have time to deal with problems like this and Gackt, you know this. You know that the record company is expecting this to be finished this week, but another day like today and it won’t happen.”
Gackt nodded in agreement. Chacha knew it was the best response he could hope for, considering the circumstances.
“Okay, then,” Chacha said. “We’ll try again tomorrow. But please guys, speak to each other before you go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, Chacha left the room leaving Gackt and You behind in silence.
Gackt took one last look at the lyrics in his hand, still upside down, but they could have been written in Russian and Gackt wouldn’t have noticed, before leaving them in a neat pile on the table for the staff to clean up later. He walked to the door, purposely ignoring both Chacha’s words and the other man in the room and had his hand on the door handle, when a quiet voice stopped him.
“He’s right. We should talk.”
Gackt didn’t turn around, but his back stiffened. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“We can’t ignore this,” You said softly, as if anything harsher or louder would cause Gackt to disappear. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t know,” Gackt said, “give me a couple more days and I’m pretty sure I could ignore it quite easily.”
You took a deep breath and came to stand next to Gackt, his hand lightly gripping Gackt’s upper arm. He was so close that he could almost hear Gackt breathing and could feel a shiver run through Gackt’s body. You wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else that was surging through Gackt’s limbs, but he refused to back away. They needed to talk.
“Really?” You asked. “Is that why you’re trembling and breathing heavy? Because you can ignore it?”
Gackt ripped his arm from You’s grasp and was at the other side of the room before You had even realised he’d moved. Gackt was angry, You could see that quite plainly from his balled fists and the way he was bouncing on his heels. All of the tension that had built up over the day was threatening to explode, but still, You refused to back down or walk away.
“What do you suggest we do?” Gackt asked in a tone of voice that was supposed to be icy calm but was instead boiling with repressed anger, “what should we talk about? I’m sorry, but I’m not quite sure what the rules are for a conversation like this.”
“Gackt…”
You’s interruption was ignored. Gackt continued. “Should the conversation start with ‘I’m sorry’? Or ‘it won’t happen again’? How about ‘I don’t know what I was thinking?’” Gackt shook his head. “No, you wanted to talk, so talk. I’m not taking responsibility for this.”
Gackt sat down on the leather chair that faced the mixing desk and crossed his legs. His foot was tapping so quickly that it was a blur of movement and it betrayed the false calm that Gackt was still trying to radiate. For the first time that day, You felt nervous.
The man seated before You had been his best friend for nearly twenty years. They had seen so many sights, achieved so many goals and spent their entire adult lives together. Those years had been littered with arguments, it was impossible for anyone not to argue with someone as strong willed and opinionated as Gackt if enough time was spent in his company, but they had worked through them all and their friendship had become stronger because of them.
You had faced Gackt’s anger countless times before and, on occasion, had even matched it, but today was different. Today, You had no desire to fight, shout or ignore the issue that burned between them. He didn’t have the patience for Gackt to become bored of the distance between them and start talking to him again as if the issue had never happened.
Besides, You had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that this time, the distance could be permanent.
You didn’t know what to say, but he refused to back down. “I don’t think there are any rules for this conversation.”
“I don’t think there’s any need for a conversation at all.”
“So what should we do, Gackt?” You asked. “Continue to ignore each other and tear the band apart in the process? Chacha was right. We can’t afford another day like today; we’re behind schedule as it is.”
And boy, wasn’t Gackt aware of that. The constant phone calls, emails and voice mail messages from a record company that was desperate for him to produce new music after they’d very kindly stepped aside and allowed him to tour and film dramas as he desired, were beginning to become tiresome. He was legally contracted to produce music for them, and if Gackt had any questions or queries about that then they would be delighted to give him the contact details of their team of high priced lawyers. The record company had him backed into a corner - he had to record something and record something soon.
The issue with You was making an already difficult situation impossible, but still, Gackt couldn’t swallow his pride and simply talk things through.
“I’m aware of the schedule,” Gackt replied. “Maybe things would be quicker with a new guitarist. I’m sure I could get a competent guitarist in place by the morning.”
“You bastard,” You said quietly, “you absolute bastard.” You’s voice became louder, stronger, and just as angry as Gackt’s. “This is your reaction to everything, isn’t it? Something becomes a problem and you just throw it away because you have no room in your perfect little life for problems. Well, you’re not throwing me away just because you’re too scared to talk things through.”
You knew he’d hit a raw nerve when Gackt’s foot stopped tapping and Gackt became deathly still. “I’m not scared,” Gackt denied. “What could I possibly be scared of?”
“You’re scared of where this talk is going to lead so instead, you want to bury your head in the sand and pretend it never happened. It isn’t going to work. You can’t run from this and you can’t run from me.”
“I’m not scared,” Gackt repeated, “and I’m not running. I’m right here.”
“Only because I stopped you from leaving. We can’t leave things like this, Gackt.”
“I think we can,” Gackt disputed. “I can be professional tomorrow, we can finish the songs and everything can be forgotten about.”
“Forgotten?” You repeated, as he moved closer to Gackt. “Do you honestly think we can forget what started all of this?”
Gackt sank back into the chair. He didn’t like how close You was getting. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget things.”
You was now standing right in front of Gackt and he leaned down, placing his hands upon the arm rests of the chair Gackt was seated in, his fingers brushing against Gackt’s arms. Gackt very quickly folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t think either of us will forget,” You said.
Gackt said nothing.
When You spoke next, it was in a soft, almost broken voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what we did last night.”
Gackt closed his eyes. He knew he’d never forget it either, especially not while even the shortest glance at You could conjure up memories of sweat slicked skin, hot breath against his neck, strong hands gripping his hips and light kisses being rained across his face. If Gackt concentrated, really concentrated, he could almost still feel long violinist fingers dancing across his skin.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Gackt said quietly, his eyes remaining shut.
“I know.”
“It was a mistake.”
“I know.”
“It’s ruined the friendship we’ve worked so hard to keep over the last nineteen years.”
“I know.”
“It will never, ever happen again.”
You paused for a few moments before answering. “I know.”
They fell into silence again, Gackt still seated in that leather chair with You towering over him, closer than either man was comfortable with, but both unwilling to create anymore distance. Gackt’s eyes were still closed, and You wished he would open them so that he could see the fake blue underneath as closed eyes, brown eyes, just made his mind fill with visions of Gackt beneath him, lips parted and expectant.
You shook his head free of those visions. “I don’t know how it happened.”
And he didn’t. Two glasses of wine each were nowhere near enough for them to argue that they had been drunk, or even that their inhibitions had been lowered. The day had been productive and had passed without incident or argument so neither of them had needed to find any comfort. There hadn’t even been any sexual tension building between them that needed to escape because, occasional on stage gropes aside to please the fans, they had never seen each other as anything more than friends.
But, for some reason, when Gackt had knocked on the guest room that was You’s bedroom for the night, two glasses of wine not enough to make You drunk, but too much for the law to allow him to drive home, You had not only allowed Gackt to enter, but had invited him into his bed. For old time’s sake. They had shared a bed frequently during the early years of Gackt’s solo career on nights when the stresses and strains of a rapidly rocketing career had threatened to overwhelm both of them, but there were no such stresses and strains anymore.
No, You had no explanation as to why he had reached out to Gackt in the dark, and he’d bet everything he owned that Gackt had no explanation as to why he’d responded. After that initial decision You supposed he could say that they had both just gotten carried away, that there was something in the air that had clouded their senses as long as they were still touching each other and maybe, You could believe that.
However, it didn’t explain why, when he was awoken an hour later by Gackt’s talented fingers and gently rolled onto his side, he allowed Gackt to make his body sing. It didn’t explain why Gackt had decided to wake him up with wandering hands and a hot mouth. And it certainly didn’t explain why You had enjoyed every second of feeling Gackt’s arm wrapped around his waist, Gackt’s hot breath against the back of his neck and the feel of those plush lips leaving butterfly kisses across his shoulder blades as their hips moved together.
Gackt had been gone from the guest room in the morning, and You had almost thought that it was a embarrassing dream, but the scent of Platinum Egoist that lingered in the air and the two discarded condom wrappers that still lay upon the bedside table were evidence enough that You had not been dreaming. Gackt’s inability to stay in the same room as him for more than ten seconds and the slight flush that spread across Gackt’s pale cheeks when You had first walked into the kitchen had just proved things further.
“I don’t think it matters how it happened,” Gackt stated. “All that matters is that we make ourselves forget about it.”
“Pretend it never happened,” You muttered.
Gackt opened his eyes. You was glad that all he could see was blue falseness. “Pretend it never happened,” Gackt repeated.
You stepped away from Gackt’s chair, and Gackt felt like he could breathe again. You looked at him with downcast eyes and sighed deeply before speaking. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” Gackt replied. “And you will. It’ll take some time, but this will soon be a distant memory.”
You hoped he was right. But, in some strange way that You didn’t understand, he also hoped that Gackt was wrong. He had never felt an attraction towards Gackt. The singer had always been more than a friend and closer than a brother, but it was purely platonic. Gackt, despite his good looks and personality that would make You travel to hell and back for him, simply didn’t register on You’s attraction scale. But last night, he’d seen a different side to Gackt, one that had always been hidden from him. He hadn’t known before that Gackt could be both so dominant and submissive at the same time, hadn’t known that Gackt’s touch could be both strong yet gentle and had never seen Gackt simply let go and listen to nothing other than the demands of his heart and body. Despite the current awkwardness and distance that existed between them, You felt closer to the other man than he ever had before.
It was a paradox that made him both want to forget and to remember in equal measures.
“I guess you’re right,” You conceded sadly. “But what about now? I know that you’re thinking about it whenever you look at me.”
Suddenly, Gackt couldn’t meet his gaze. “That will pass,” Gackt said. “I can cope with it until it does.” He paused then, his teeth worrying his bottom lip in a show of nerves. It amazed You how different the gesture had looked last night when Gackt had bit his lip in pleasure. Gackt’s voice was low and quiet when he spoke next. “Do you think about it when you look at me?”
“I’ve thought of nothing else,” You answered honestly.
Gackt ran a hand through his hair before leaning forward in his chair, his forearms resting casually on his knees. “We really fucked up last night, didn’t we?”
You couldn’t disagree. “We did. But, we’re strong enough to get through this,” You said before adding as an afterthought, “somehow.”
Gackt smiled then, but it was a sad smile, one that said that he appreciated You’s words but didn’t entirely believe them. “I don’t know what we were thinking,” Gackt said, “it just all felt so…”
Gackt’s voice trailed off into silence. You was glad that he didn’t finish his sentence, but was unhappy to hear Gackt continue on the same train of thought.
“It had been a while, though, since I last….” Gackt paused. “Maybe, it’s just because you were there and were willing.”
You bit down the emotion building in the back of his throat before speaking. “I thought it didn’t matter why it happened.”
Gackt looked at him and nodded. “It doesn’t. I was just thinking out loud.”
You didn’t believe him and he could tell by the way Gackt was nervously biting his lip again, that Gackt didn’t believe himself either.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, both men refusing to look at the other for fear of what memories they would see if they did. Gackt’s anger had long since left him and he found that without that anger surrounding him, keeping his emotions firmly locked away behind a wall of misplaced aggression and resentment, he was raw, exposed and confused beyond words. He wanted the anger back. He wanted to hide behind the quiet fury that had dragged him through the day and again wear it like the armour it had become, because being angry at You, and the situation he found himself in, was so much easier to cope with than this state of confusion and unease.
You had been right. Gackt was scared, and that was what frightened Gackt the most.
The silence was broken by the sound of the door opening and a couple of staff members entering the room. They muttered greetings to both Gackt and You, but quickly fell silent themselves. The frosty atmosphere was still easily evident, even now.
The staff members began switching off equipment and tidying away Chirolyn’s basses as You simply watched. He was so lost in his thoughts again, trying hard to banish the visions of pale, smooth skin that filled his mind, that he almost didn’t notice Gackt leave. His mind caught up and he quickly grabbed Gackt’s arm as he stepped through the door, just as he had a few minutes earlier.
“We’ll be back to normal tomorrow?” You asked quietly.
Gackt refused to meet his gaze. “We have to be. We need to get these songs finished.”
You nodded. “Pretend it never happened?”
“Something like that,” Gackt answered, before pulling his arm from You’s grip.
You let Gackt go without any argument or further word, but as Gackt walked away, all You could think about was how Gackt’s breath had quickened as soon as You had started talking. If You had been able to focus his mind on anything but Gackt, he’d have realised that his own pulse rate had rapidly increased, just because Gackt had been so close.
Pretend it never happened?
Act normally?
As You walked to the parking lot, happy to see that Gackt’s Lamborghini had already left, he knew that tomorrow, they had no chance of succeeding at either.
Notes
1) This is the story that was causing me headaches a week or so ago. It's been sat on my hard drive, fully finished and beta read for a week before I decided to post it
2) It doesn't really matter if you guessed what the 'argument' was before it was revealed or not, I just hope it makes sense!
Author - unwritten_ideas
Beta - write_my_dreams
Rating - PG-13
Word Count - 3,665
Characters - Gackt, You, Chacha, Jun-ji
Disclaimer - don’t own squat and if I did, I’d be posting this with pictures
Summary - an argument between Gackt and You threatens to not only tear the band apart, but also their friendship
“This is how it always happens,” Chacha said to Jun-ji over a cup of coffee in the little break room next to the recording studio. “They argue, and then for the next few days they give each other the silent treatment. Gackt wants to continue the argument, but You refuses, just to piss him off further, so Gackt sulks. You ignores the sulking… so Gackt sulks some more. Eventually, Gackt will get bored of sulking and will start talking to You normally and they will both carry on as if the argument never happened.”
Jun-ji added another spoon of sugar, his fourth by Chacha’s count, to his coffee. “So, we’re in the sulking and ignore stage of the argument?”
“Yeah,” Chacha confirmed. “We probably have another day or two of this before Gackt cracks and starts talking to You again.”
“What was the argument about?” Jun-ji asked, taking a sip from his coffee. Not sweet enough.
Chacha sighed. “Who knows? It’s usually something stupid and something Gackt started. I wouldn’t suggest asking though, Jun-ji. Just ride it out and wait for it to finish like everybody else does.”
Spoonful of sugar number five was added to the coffee. “It’s making recording very difficult though.”
“I know,” Chacha said with a frown. “We’ll have to work longer hours when this blows over in order to catch up.”
“I have a date this weekend,” Jun-ji explained, “I hope they haven’t made friends again by then.”
Chacha smiled in sympathy. “Let’s just say that I wouldn’t book the restaurant yet.” He glanced at the clock. “We should go back, break time is over.”
Jun-ji quickly gulped down his coffee. “Okay. Just remind me when we leave that tomorrow, I’m bringing a sweater.”
Chacha held open the door of the break room and allowed Jun-ji to leave first. “A sweater? It’s 30 degrees outside.”
“Maybe so,” Jun-ji agreed, pausing at the door that led back into the recording studio, “but in here, the air is kinda frosty, don’t you think?”
Chacha made no comment and simply followed Jun-ji back inside.
*~*~*~
As the recording continued, Chacha had to agree that it was frosty. Very frosty. It was difficult to conduct a productive recording session when two members of the band couldn’t bear to look at each other or to stand within ten feet of each other. Whatever the argument had been this time, it was serious.
It was affecting their performances too. You had repeatedly missed his cue and by the end of the song was at least five beats behind everybody else, his only explanation for his mistakes being a shrug of his shoulders and a promise that he’d get it right next time. Gackt, usually the first to point out mistakes and encourage correction, simply remained silent and made no indication that he’d heard the mistakes at all.
Although, Gackt really had no right to criticise anyone. Forgotten lyrics, mixed up verses, singing entirely the wrong song…
Maybe it was going to take more than a day or two for this argument to work itself out.
After a couple of hours of a recording session so bad that Chacha was reminded of his first time in a recording studio with a drummer so drunk he couldn’t sit on his stool without falling off and a guitarist who only knew three chords, Chacha decided to call it quits and go home. Chirolyn and Jun-ji both looked at him with eyes that screamed “thank you” and ran out of the door as quickly as they could manage, simply leaving their bass guitars and drum kit behind for the staff to deal with.
You, however, was neatly putting his guitar away in his guitar stand and Gackt was staring at a sheet of lyrics. That was, Chacha noticed, upside down. Chacha shut the door that was still shaking on his hinges slightly after the force with which Chirolyn and Jun-ji had exited and stood in front of it.
No escape routes.
“You two are such children sometimes,” Chacha said loudly.
You and Gackt both looked up, but made no comment.
Chacha sighed in exasperation. “I have no idea what pettiness has sparked the argument this time and I don’t care, but I refuse to waste another day’s recording just because you’re both still stuck in the playground. I don’t care if you’re not talking. I don’t care if you hate each other. Do not bring your dramas into the recording studio. Grow up, please.”
Still no comment. You, at least, looked a little embarrassed and apologetic for his behaviour, but Gackt was simply staring at Chacha with a force that would make most men take a step back.
Chacha, however, wasn’t most men. “Instead of giving each other the silent treatment and holding onto whatever argument has happened, talk to each other. Work things through. Your friendship is worth more than this, right? I’m sorry if I was too harsh, but we don’t have time to deal with problems like this and Gackt, you know this. You know that the record company is expecting this to be finished this week, but another day like today and it won’t happen.”
Gackt nodded in agreement. Chacha knew it was the best response he could hope for, considering the circumstances.
“Okay, then,” Chacha said. “We’ll try again tomorrow. But please guys, speak to each other before you go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, Chacha left the room leaving Gackt and You behind in silence.
Gackt took one last look at the lyrics in his hand, still upside down, but they could have been written in Russian and Gackt wouldn’t have noticed, before leaving them in a neat pile on the table for the staff to clean up later. He walked to the door, purposely ignoring both Chacha’s words and the other man in the room and had his hand on the door handle, when a quiet voice stopped him.
“He’s right. We should talk.”
Gackt didn’t turn around, but his back stiffened. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“We can’t ignore this,” You said softly, as if anything harsher or louder would cause Gackt to disappear. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t know,” Gackt said, “give me a couple more days and I’m pretty sure I could ignore it quite easily.”
You took a deep breath and came to stand next to Gackt, his hand lightly gripping Gackt’s upper arm. He was so close that he could almost hear Gackt breathing and could feel a shiver run through Gackt’s body. You wasn’t sure if it was anger or something else that was surging through Gackt’s limbs, but he refused to back away. They needed to talk.
“Really?” You asked. “Is that why you’re trembling and breathing heavy? Because you can ignore it?”
Gackt ripped his arm from You’s grasp and was at the other side of the room before You had even realised he’d moved. Gackt was angry, You could see that quite plainly from his balled fists and the way he was bouncing on his heels. All of the tension that had built up over the day was threatening to explode, but still, You refused to back down or walk away.
“What do you suggest we do?” Gackt asked in a tone of voice that was supposed to be icy calm but was instead boiling with repressed anger, “what should we talk about? I’m sorry, but I’m not quite sure what the rules are for a conversation like this.”
“Gackt…”
You’s interruption was ignored. Gackt continued. “Should the conversation start with ‘I’m sorry’? Or ‘it won’t happen again’? How about ‘I don’t know what I was thinking?’” Gackt shook his head. “No, you wanted to talk, so talk. I’m not taking responsibility for this.”
Gackt sat down on the leather chair that faced the mixing desk and crossed his legs. His foot was tapping so quickly that it was a blur of movement and it betrayed the false calm that Gackt was still trying to radiate. For the first time that day, You felt nervous.
The man seated before You had been his best friend for nearly twenty years. They had seen so many sights, achieved so many goals and spent their entire adult lives together. Those years had been littered with arguments, it was impossible for anyone not to argue with someone as strong willed and opinionated as Gackt if enough time was spent in his company, but they had worked through them all and their friendship had become stronger because of them.
You had faced Gackt’s anger countless times before and, on occasion, had even matched it, but today was different. Today, You had no desire to fight, shout or ignore the issue that burned between them. He didn’t have the patience for Gackt to become bored of the distance between them and start talking to him again as if the issue had never happened.
Besides, You had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that this time, the distance could be permanent.
You didn’t know what to say, but he refused to back down. “I don’t think there are any rules for this conversation.”
“I don’t think there’s any need for a conversation at all.”
“So what should we do, Gackt?” You asked. “Continue to ignore each other and tear the band apart in the process? Chacha was right. We can’t afford another day like today; we’re behind schedule as it is.”
And boy, wasn’t Gackt aware of that. The constant phone calls, emails and voice mail messages from a record company that was desperate for him to produce new music after they’d very kindly stepped aside and allowed him to tour and film dramas as he desired, were beginning to become tiresome. He was legally contracted to produce music for them, and if Gackt had any questions or queries about that then they would be delighted to give him the contact details of their team of high priced lawyers. The record company had him backed into a corner - he had to record something and record something soon.
The issue with You was making an already difficult situation impossible, but still, Gackt couldn’t swallow his pride and simply talk things through.
“I’m aware of the schedule,” Gackt replied. “Maybe things would be quicker with a new guitarist. I’m sure I could get a competent guitarist in place by the morning.”
“You bastard,” You said quietly, “you absolute bastard.” You’s voice became louder, stronger, and just as angry as Gackt’s. “This is your reaction to everything, isn’t it? Something becomes a problem and you just throw it away because you have no room in your perfect little life for problems. Well, you’re not throwing me away just because you’re too scared to talk things through.”
You knew he’d hit a raw nerve when Gackt’s foot stopped tapping and Gackt became deathly still. “I’m not scared,” Gackt denied. “What could I possibly be scared of?”
“You’re scared of where this talk is going to lead so instead, you want to bury your head in the sand and pretend it never happened. It isn’t going to work. You can’t run from this and you can’t run from me.”
“I’m not scared,” Gackt repeated, “and I’m not running. I’m right here.”
“Only because I stopped you from leaving. We can’t leave things like this, Gackt.”
“I think we can,” Gackt disputed. “I can be professional tomorrow, we can finish the songs and everything can be forgotten about.”
“Forgotten?” You repeated, as he moved closer to Gackt. “Do you honestly think we can forget what started all of this?”
Gackt sank back into the chair. He didn’t like how close You was getting. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget things.”
You was now standing right in front of Gackt and he leaned down, placing his hands upon the arm rests of the chair Gackt was seated in, his fingers brushing against Gackt’s arms. Gackt very quickly folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t think either of us will forget,” You said.
Gackt said nothing.
When You spoke next, it was in a soft, almost broken voice. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget what we did last night.”
Gackt closed his eyes. He knew he’d never forget it either, especially not while even the shortest glance at You could conjure up memories of sweat slicked skin, hot breath against his neck, strong hands gripping his hips and light kisses being rained across his face. If Gackt concentrated, really concentrated, he could almost still feel long violinist fingers dancing across his skin.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Gackt said quietly, his eyes remaining shut.
“I know.”
“It was a mistake.”
“I know.”
“It’s ruined the friendship we’ve worked so hard to keep over the last nineteen years.”
“I know.”
“It will never, ever happen again.”
You paused for a few moments before answering. “I know.”
They fell into silence again, Gackt still seated in that leather chair with You towering over him, closer than either man was comfortable with, but both unwilling to create anymore distance. Gackt’s eyes were still closed, and You wished he would open them so that he could see the fake blue underneath as closed eyes, brown eyes, just made his mind fill with visions of Gackt beneath him, lips parted and expectant.
You shook his head free of those visions. “I don’t know how it happened.”
And he didn’t. Two glasses of wine each were nowhere near enough for them to argue that they had been drunk, or even that their inhibitions had been lowered. The day had been productive and had passed without incident or argument so neither of them had needed to find any comfort. There hadn’t even been any sexual tension building between them that needed to escape because, occasional on stage gropes aside to please the fans, they had never seen each other as anything more than friends.
But, for some reason, when Gackt had knocked on the guest room that was You’s bedroom for the night, two glasses of wine not enough to make You drunk, but too much for the law to allow him to drive home, You had not only allowed Gackt to enter, but had invited him into his bed. For old time’s sake. They had shared a bed frequently during the early years of Gackt’s solo career on nights when the stresses and strains of a rapidly rocketing career had threatened to overwhelm both of them, but there were no such stresses and strains anymore.
No, You had no explanation as to why he had reached out to Gackt in the dark, and he’d bet everything he owned that Gackt had no explanation as to why he’d responded. After that initial decision You supposed he could say that they had both just gotten carried away, that there was something in the air that had clouded their senses as long as they were still touching each other and maybe, You could believe that.
However, it didn’t explain why, when he was awoken an hour later by Gackt’s talented fingers and gently rolled onto his side, he allowed Gackt to make his body sing. It didn’t explain why Gackt had decided to wake him up with wandering hands and a hot mouth. And it certainly didn’t explain why You had enjoyed every second of feeling Gackt’s arm wrapped around his waist, Gackt’s hot breath against the back of his neck and the feel of those plush lips leaving butterfly kisses across his shoulder blades as their hips moved together.
Gackt had been gone from the guest room in the morning, and You had almost thought that it was a embarrassing dream, but the scent of Platinum Egoist that lingered in the air and the two discarded condom wrappers that still lay upon the bedside table were evidence enough that You had not been dreaming. Gackt’s inability to stay in the same room as him for more than ten seconds and the slight flush that spread across Gackt’s pale cheeks when You had first walked into the kitchen had just proved things further.
“I don’t think it matters how it happened,” Gackt stated. “All that matters is that we make ourselves forget about it.”
“Pretend it never happened,” You muttered.
Gackt opened his eyes. You was glad that all he could see was blue falseness. “Pretend it never happened,” Gackt repeated.
You stepped away from Gackt’s chair, and Gackt felt like he could breathe again. You looked at him with downcast eyes and sighed deeply before speaking. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can,” Gackt replied. “And you will. It’ll take some time, but this will soon be a distant memory.”
You hoped he was right. But, in some strange way that You didn’t understand, he also hoped that Gackt was wrong. He had never felt an attraction towards Gackt. The singer had always been more than a friend and closer than a brother, but it was purely platonic. Gackt, despite his good looks and personality that would make You travel to hell and back for him, simply didn’t register on You’s attraction scale. But last night, he’d seen a different side to Gackt, one that had always been hidden from him. He hadn’t known before that Gackt could be both so dominant and submissive at the same time, hadn’t known that Gackt’s touch could be both strong yet gentle and had never seen Gackt simply let go and listen to nothing other than the demands of his heart and body. Despite the current awkwardness and distance that existed between them, You felt closer to the other man than he ever had before.
It was a paradox that made him both want to forget and to remember in equal measures.
“I guess you’re right,” You conceded sadly. “But what about now? I know that you’re thinking about it whenever you look at me.”
Suddenly, Gackt couldn’t meet his gaze. “That will pass,” Gackt said. “I can cope with it until it does.” He paused then, his teeth worrying his bottom lip in a show of nerves. It amazed You how different the gesture had looked last night when Gackt had bit his lip in pleasure. Gackt’s voice was low and quiet when he spoke next. “Do you think about it when you look at me?”
“I’ve thought of nothing else,” You answered honestly.
Gackt ran a hand through his hair before leaning forward in his chair, his forearms resting casually on his knees. “We really fucked up last night, didn’t we?”
You couldn’t disagree. “We did. But, we’re strong enough to get through this,” You said before adding as an afterthought, “somehow.”
Gackt smiled then, but it was a sad smile, one that said that he appreciated You’s words but didn’t entirely believe them. “I don’t know what we were thinking,” Gackt said, “it just all felt so…”
Gackt’s voice trailed off into silence. You was glad that he didn’t finish his sentence, but was unhappy to hear Gackt continue on the same train of thought.
“It had been a while, though, since I last….” Gackt paused. “Maybe, it’s just because you were there and were willing.”
You bit down the emotion building in the back of his throat before speaking. “I thought it didn’t matter why it happened.”
Gackt looked at him and nodded. “It doesn’t. I was just thinking out loud.”
You didn’t believe him and he could tell by the way Gackt was nervously biting his lip again, that Gackt didn’t believe himself either.
They fell into an uncomfortable silence, both men refusing to look at the other for fear of what memories they would see if they did. Gackt’s anger had long since left him and he found that without that anger surrounding him, keeping his emotions firmly locked away behind a wall of misplaced aggression and resentment, he was raw, exposed and confused beyond words. He wanted the anger back. He wanted to hide behind the quiet fury that had dragged him through the day and again wear it like the armour it had become, because being angry at You, and the situation he found himself in, was so much easier to cope with than this state of confusion and unease.
You had been right. Gackt was scared, and that was what frightened Gackt the most.
The silence was broken by the sound of the door opening and a couple of staff members entering the room. They muttered greetings to both Gackt and You, but quickly fell silent themselves. The frosty atmosphere was still easily evident, even now.
The staff members began switching off equipment and tidying away Chirolyn’s basses as You simply watched. He was so lost in his thoughts again, trying hard to banish the visions of pale, smooth skin that filled his mind, that he almost didn’t notice Gackt leave. His mind caught up and he quickly grabbed Gackt’s arm as he stepped through the door, just as he had a few minutes earlier.
“We’ll be back to normal tomorrow?” You asked quietly.
Gackt refused to meet his gaze. “We have to be. We need to get these songs finished.”
You nodded. “Pretend it never happened?”
“Something like that,” Gackt answered, before pulling his arm from You’s grip.
You let Gackt go without any argument or further word, but as Gackt walked away, all You could think about was how Gackt’s breath had quickened as soon as You had started talking. If You had been able to focus his mind on anything but Gackt, he’d have realised that his own pulse rate had rapidly increased, just because Gackt had been so close.
Pretend it never happened?
Act normally?
As You walked to the parking lot, happy to see that Gackt’s Lamborghini had already left, he knew that tomorrow, they had no chance of succeeding at either.
Notes
1) This is the story that was causing me headaches a week or so ago. It's been sat on my hard drive, fully finished and beta read for a week before I decided to post it
2) It doesn't really matter if you guessed what the 'argument' was before it was revealed or not, I just hope it makes sense!