One Day
Title - One Day
Author - unwritten_ideas
Rating - PG
Word Count - 868
Characters - Gackt, You
Disclaimer - don’t own squat and if I did, I’d be posting this with pictures
Summary - Gackt and You are in the middle of an argument
You’s grip was firm, but not painful. Gackt knew that he could easily wrench his hand out of You’s grasp, but the stern look in You’s eyes and the way the guitarist’s thumb was pressing lightly into the center of Gackt’s palm made Gackt think twice about doing so. In You terminology they’d been strongly discussing Gackt’s recent behaviour, although Gackt himself was more likely to use the verb “arguing”, when You had suddenly reached out and grabbed Gackt’s right hand with his left.
It had killed Gackt’s argument dead in his throat. They’d shout (You) and they’d scream (Gackt), but neither had placed hands on the other during an argument since those early days when they’d beaten each other until their blood had stained the roads of Kyoto. No, You taking him literally in hand was new and Gackt didn’t know what was coming next.
You’s left hand held Gackt’s hand, palm facing upwards, in a firm grip. The guitarist’s right hand slowly moved to Gackt’s wrist and undid the cuff of Gackt’s expensive Armani shirt and rolled the sleeve back to the elbow, exposing Gackt’s forearm. Next, You gently removed the 10 million yen, custom made and jewel studded watch that decorated Gackt’s wrist and placed it on the table next to them.
You stared down at Gackt’s bared wrist. It looked delicate, like he could snap it in two if he moved his grip higher. For a split second, You wanted to see if he could, if those bones he knew lay underneath the skin could shatter under the force of his hand but the moment quickly passed. Gackt’s blue veins were easily visible through the smooth skin that covered them and it looked like tissue paper to You’s eyes. So easy to tear. So breakable.
In so many ways, that thin skin and fine wrist was just like the man it belonged to.
“What do you see,” You asked, “when you look here?” He pressed down a little bit more on Gackt’s palm in order to draw the singer’s attention to it.
Gackt shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “A hand. A wrist. Flesh, bone and skin. What am I supposed to see?”
“Just that,” You said before repeating softly, “just that.”
“Are you going to tell me what the point of this is?” Gackt asked.
“Who are you?” You asked.
Gackt was worried. It was unlike You to play games, that was definitely more his style, and these questions that were serving a purpose that Gackt had yet to discover were equally unlike You too. He didn’t know what point You was trying to make but Gackt was certain that he wouldn’t like it.
“Get to the point, You.”
“You dress yourself up like the rockstars we used to watch when we were kids,” You said, “you act like the asshole you think that rockstars should be and you treat your friends and staff as if they exist purely to serve you.”
You’s grip on Gackt’s hand had unconsciously tightened as he’d spoke and his blunt and bitten fingernails were starting to dig into the back of Gackt’s hand. It hurt, but Gackt refused to acknowledge that.
“I’m not playing dress up or acting,” Gackt said bitterly.
“No?” You asked, his eyes leaping from Gackt’s wrist to his coloured contact covered eyes. “I think you are.”
“You do, do you?” Gackt asked, his voice not as strong and forceful as he would have liked.
“I think that when you strip away the fine clothes and expensive jewellery, all that’s left behind is a bare, insecure and lost little boy.”
Gackt tried to pull his hand away from You but the guitarist held fast. Gackt wanted to cover his exposed and all too human wrist with his fine shirt and his expensive watch but You wouldn’t let him.
You would never let him.
“What I don’t understand,” You continued, “is why you hide that bare, insecure and lost little boy behind your fine clothes and expensive jewellery when he’s a far nicer person to be around.”
“Because insecure little boys get trampled on and beaten into the ground,” Gackt replied. “Rockstars, don’t.”
You lightened the grip of his left hand and danced the fingertips of his right hand down the center of Gackt’s forearm. He felt Gackt shudder at the contact. “So it is self preservation that makes you act like an asshole?”
“Something like that.”
“I’d never trample you and beat you into the ground.”
Gackt nodded. “I know.”
“You don’t have to act the rockstar with me.”
“I know.”
You sighed. “But you will anyway, right?”
Gackt closed his eyes. “Yes.”
You rolled down the sleeve of Gackt’s shirt and refastened the button, the expensive silk hiding the delicate wrist and forearm from his eyes. He still, however, held Gackt’s hand firmly in his. “One day, you won’t.”
“One day, I won’t,” Gackt lied.
Finally, You let go. He picked up the watch that he himself could never hope to own, and handed it to Gackt. Gackt took it from him but didn’t put it on and instead just held it in his hands.
You smiled sadly. “And one day, I’ll believe you.”
~owari
Notes
1) Have you ever noticed how delicate wrists can look sometimes?
Author - unwritten_ideas
Rating - PG
Word Count - 868
Characters - Gackt, You
Disclaimer - don’t own squat and if I did, I’d be posting this with pictures
Summary - Gackt and You are in the middle of an argument
You’s grip was firm, but not painful. Gackt knew that he could easily wrench his hand out of You’s grasp, but the stern look in You’s eyes and the way the guitarist’s thumb was pressing lightly into the center of Gackt’s palm made Gackt think twice about doing so. In You terminology they’d been strongly discussing Gackt’s recent behaviour, although Gackt himself was more likely to use the verb “arguing”, when You had suddenly reached out and grabbed Gackt’s right hand with his left.
It had killed Gackt’s argument dead in his throat. They’d shout (You) and they’d scream (Gackt), but neither had placed hands on the other during an argument since those early days when they’d beaten each other until their blood had stained the roads of Kyoto. No, You taking him literally in hand was new and Gackt didn’t know what was coming next.
You’s left hand held Gackt’s hand, palm facing upwards, in a firm grip. The guitarist’s right hand slowly moved to Gackt’s wrist and undid the cuff of Gackt’s expensive Armani shirt and rolled the sleeve back to the elbow, exposing Gackt’s forearm. Next, You gently removed the 10 million yen, custom made and jewel studded watch that decorated Gackt’s wrist and placed it on the table next to them.
You stared down at Gackt’s bared wrist. It looked delicate, like he could snap it in two if he moved his grip higher. For a split second, You wanted to see if he could, if those bones he knew lay underneath the skin could shatter under the force of his hand but the moment quickly passed. Gackt’s blue veins were easily visible through the smooth skin that covered them and it looked like tissue paper to You’s eyes. So easy to tear. So breakable.
In so many ways, that thin skin and fine wrist was just like the man it belonged to.
“What do you see,” You asked, “when you look here?” He pressed down a little bit more on Gackt’s palm in order to draw the singer’s attention to it.
Gackt shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. “A hand. A wrist. Flesh, bone and skin. What am I supposed to see?”
“Just that,” You said before repeating softly, “just that.”
“Are you going to tell me what the point of this is?” Gackt asked.
“Who are you?” You asked.
Gackt was worried. It was unlike You to play games, that was definitely more his style, and these questions that were serving a purpose that Gackt had yet to discover were equally unlike You too. He didn’t know what point You was trying to make but Gackt was certain that he wouldn’t like it.
“Get to the point, You.”
“You dress yourself up like the rockstars we used to watch when we were kids,” You said, “you act like the asshole you think that rockstars should be and you treat your friends and staff as if they exist purely to serve you.”
You’s grip on Gackt’s hand had unconsciously tightened as he’d spoke and his blunt and bitten fingernails were starting to dig into the back of Gackt’s hand. It hurt, but Gackt refused to acknowledge that.
“I’m not playing dress up or acting,” Gackt said bitterly.
“No?” You asked, his eyes leaping from Gackt’s wrist to his coloured contact covered eyes. “I think you are.”
“You do, do you?” Gackt asked, his voice not as strong and forceful as he would have liked.
“I think that when you strip away the fine clothes and expensive jewellery, all that’s left behind is a bare, insecure and lost little boy.”
Gackt tried to pull his hand away from You but the guitarist held fast. Gackt wanted to cover his exposed and all too human wrist with his fine shirt and his expensive watch but You wouldn’t let him.
You would never let him.
“What I don’t understand,” You continued, “is why you hide that bare, insecure and lost little boy behind your fine clothes and expensive jewellery when he’s a far nicer person to be around.”
“Because insecure little boys get trampled on and beaten into the ground,” Gackt replied. “Rockstars, don’t.”
You lightened the grip of his left hand and danced the fingertips of his right hand down the center of Gackt’s forearm. He felt Gackt shudder at the contact. “So it is self preservation that makes you act like an asshole?”
“Something like that.”
“I’d never trample you and beat you into the ground.”
Gackt nodded. “I know.”
“You don’t have to act the rockstar with me.”
“I know.”
You sighed. “But you will anyway, right?”
Gackt closed his eyes. “Yes.”
You rolled down the sleeve of Gackt’s shirt and refastened the button, the expensive silk hiding the delicate wrist and forearm from his eyes. He still, however, held Gackt’s hand firmly in his. “One day, you won’t.”
“One day, I won’t,” Gackt lied.
Finally, You let go. He picked up the watch that he himself could never hope to own, and handed it to Gackt. Gackt took it from him but didn’t put it on and instead just held it in his hands.
You smiled sadly. “And one day, I’ll believe you.”
~owari
Notes
1) Have you ever noticed how delicate wrists can look sometimes?