Your Time
Your Time
Your Time |
I. PerformanceDisclaimer: I do not represent these celebrities in any way, nor do I own them. I do not make any profit from this. hide He didn't always have the clearest memory of what happened, but he always remembered the rush of adrenaline when the stage lights turned on to the pandemonium of the fans. Whether it was the intimacy of a hall or the deafening roar of an overflowing dome, he felt as if there was no better place than right there to be, to feel the music coursing through his veins, heart pumping to the speed of the beat. Break-neck pacing was like a drug, his fingers licking over the strings, twisting and turning, slic with sweat (but he didn't care), and all he wanted was to keep on going. The body moved unconsciously, instinctively, reflexively as did thousands of fans to the sound of the bass drums and snare from wherever Yoshiki was. Especially in Tokyo Dome, where the masses bled myriad colors into a picture of unison, each to his or her own joining to sing or headbang. It was either that or hearing his name -- "HIDE! HIDE! HIDE!" -- screamed again and again, or any of the other members as well. The exhaustion tended to kick in after an hour and a half or so, but he had long since learned to keep playing, partly because he wanted to satisfy the audience, and partly because of anticipation of what happened after the concert; it was a fatigue that afflicted only the body, not the mind. He loved music, partying, drinking, and sex, not necessarily in that order; he loved the post-concert parties where he could drink and relax, and feel the stress disappear in an alcohol- induced buzz. There were nights where he remember exactly what he did, and with whom he did things with. Somethings were a pleasure to remember, and others were neglible. He knew he would often wake up the next day with a hangover and anger at having drank yet again, and still repeat the actions at some later period. It was not rare to find himself awake in a familiar bed, though not his own, with or without someone next to him. Love, to be loved, yes; to be in love, no. There were bits and pieces he remembered: the man people called genius (would he rather have believed himself one as well) with whom he never left without a fight, a familiar body pressed against his own, shining in darkness with slender, sweat-covered limbs, cattish eyes against pale skin, whispers in his ears that burned and then lips upon his neck, a long mass of bleached blonde hair to tangle his hands in, and a sharply contrasting presence, one moment gentle, delicate, and warm, the next a burning, harsh fury as fast as the pace of the music he played, because it was the only way it could be done. It was like a fight, because he wouldn't lose and neither would the other. It was like a friendly rivalry, each to his own best abilities, and romance was something people liked to believe in. It shouldn't have been, it couldn't have been, and in the end, he knew then, nothing will last. Perhaps the world was his stage and his life was his act. He promised to himself first, and to others second, that he would enjoy himself, and do the best he could. It was his time, appropriately.II. AssumptionsYoshiki When you sleep with someone, and not just once, people would naturally assume you were having a relationship, and a romantic one at that. It wasn't true, he used to muse. It's just an act, and that was it. "People will take the act you give them," he told hide once in a moment of lucidity, "especially as an entertainer. Do you know who you really are?" hide looked at him with strange eyes, perhaps defiance, hunger, and wisdom all wrapped in one, and laughed. With one hand, he reached out to his face softly wiping away his ruined hoarfrost-blue eyeshadow --it was after a performance and the water splashed on his face-- with a touch that bothered and startled him, though it shouldn't have. hide teased him, "It's funny that you say that, leader-sama. I should know that better than just about anyone else, shouldn't I? I live up to the expectations of people, of my own, and it's best that way." Then he remembered. "I suppose you should. You already do." It was an improper relationship, people would say, though most people did not know. People assumed things, and whether or not their assumptions were true, they preferred their own versions. So why did they both turn a blind eye and say it was nothing if it did not matter? Because it couldn't be allowed unless it had to be. There was an image to keep, and in world of entertainment (he was a musician first and foremost, but in business, there was nothing else), despite contradictions and double-standards, there were things that simply weren't allowed. There were many things that were not allowed, but that was his original goal, wasn't it? Breaking all the rules. The question from Toshi was very simply, "How can you guys argue to the point of killing each other and still share a bed?" And to think he didn't see the implication of jealousy until much later. To say he was a blind man would have been correct. "There's nothing going on," he denied as he knew hide would not have, because he was the one more terrified. It should have only been once, except it was not. "There is nothing of importance." He liked to believe that was the truth. He regrets it now. III. Incidenthide He was drunk, angry, and in pathetic form. There were moments where the mind craved for destruction while the body was mostly incapacitated, and that served for ill results. It started when Yoshiki, equally drunk and perhaps pissy as he had a habit of being when drunk, made a remark as they made their way to their rooms, almost suspiciously alone. Toshi was in the lobby making a phone call and Pata had stayed behind with Taiji to see who could outdrink the other. The real reason they were even going back to their rooms was because the threat of a fight loomed overhead and that was the last thing anyone needed amidst the revelry, except him. Toshi had offered to oversee their trip back, but thought that they were at ease by the time they were in the lobby, so he left them alone. There was no one around them when they started to fight over something meaingless, and the walls of the hotel could have told many tales if they could talk. They would have said it was a pathetic fight since neither of them had the balance or common sense. In proof, as his hands found Yoshiki's neck, he slipped and pulled him in for a kiss instead, tongue and all. Yoshiki had not expected that abrupt action; he stilled momentarily before pushing him away and spat, "What the fuck are you doing?" He leaned against the wall and began to laugh at the absurdity of it all. "We're both fucking drunk and arguing over something I can't remember. I can still taste the alcohol. What am I doing? I don't fucking know. I -was- trying to kill you, and then I kissed you. What else? Now Mr.I'm-Always-Right is touchy about getting kissed." He watched the drummer close his eyes against the opposite wall of the hallway. Yoshiki dropped his head, as though trying to regain some semblance of sanity. "Last time I checked, you were trying to choke me. And then you've got your tongue down my throat. I'd completely understand if the world was insane--" "The world -is- insane." Yoshiki seemed to shudder briefly, as though memory savaged him. "You're insane, I'm insane, and right now, stay the fuck away from me." Whatever fighting spirit he had before seemed to drain out, replaced by a hurt anger. He began to walk away from him, despite the fact they shared a room. It was likely he'd be running to Toshi to burn off the anger. There was a part of him that took delicious triumph in it, and at the same time, bitterness in the fact Yoshiki was walking away. He reminded him, "I win, Yoshiki." He had gone to sleep afterwards, and woke the next day with a hangover for his troubles, and the hotel billing for damages to the rooms for his worries as Toshi bemoaned the little amount of sleep he had with Yoshiki staying with him. "He threw a temper tantrum again?" Pata asked with the infinite wisdom of his drinking days. "Or did you, too?" "Does the room look like it's damaged?" "Check the bathroom." "Fuck." He couldn't remember what happened until much later, and when he did, he still liked to pretend he didn't. IV. Game YoshikiThere were a certain set of rules he set himself to. One, he could only trust a certain amount of people. Check. Two, he could only do the best he could. Check. Three, he couldn't lose. He couldn't. He didn't want to lose, and he couldn't let others think he could lose. He had the ability to do what he wanted, so why should he lose? "I win, Yoshiki." No, you didn't. It was interrupted. It was never finished. He was going to win. The things he did for pride, more than anything. He thought that, at least. Perhaps something there was an eerily reminiscent of feeling of fear, because hide was still hide and wildly unpredictable. He hated losing, losing to someone, losing someone. Perhaps it was also because he knew there was some chemistry there, and as much as he didn't want it to be real because it would hurt more when it ended. The next day, hide had acted as if nothing happened. It was infuriating, the way he said it, "Did I do something last night to make you mad? If I did, I'm sorry. I really am." It was not because it sounded false, but because it was true-- hide couldn't remember. hide always did that. hide's alchohol tolerance wasn't as high as his, and it served for the worse. He shouldn't have drunk, because he had a clear memory of what happened, and with that, the frustration of doing things he shouldn't have. For a long time, he let it be. He told himself that it should have disappeared quickly, and other things overtook his mind at certain points, including his Art of Life. It was not until the practice session for the 1994 Tokyo Dome concerts when it came up. He got into an argument with hide over the rearrangement of opening of Rose of Pain and the rest of the band simply sighed as though stopping them was an impossible task. "I don't think I've seen you two argue and have one person win," Heath commented softly. "You guys always seem to come down to some sort of agreement." Toshi snorted on the water he was drinking as though it were the most amusing thing he had ever heard. Pata chuckled slightly. "That's not true!" hide denied. "I've won once!" He raised an eyebrow at the claim and noted the slight waver in hide's eyes. He remembered, for sure. "I've never seen you win," Toshi remarked, "but I've seen you stick it out as long as you can. You're both stubborn, that's what. I bet you'll be arguing over this into the evening." "What time is it?" he asked abruptly. "4:43." He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "We've been here before noon. If we're not done by five, you guys are free to leave. Just remember, tomorrow we're at the Tokyo Dome for rehearsal. The day after is dress." "Whoa, you're making ME stay while they can go?" hide protested. "I don't want to stay." He smiled politely at hide. "Then perhaps you shouldn't be so stubborn, should you?" "The same could go for you, oh great leader." "I think I'd know best how to reorchestrate my own songs." "And as a person playing that song whose ears are not buffetted by pounding, I'd know whether or not these chords work." "I have perfectly fine hearing!" "Oh, the indignity!" hide mocked. "Poor Yoshiki's hearing is going down." "Now's the time to leave before we're responsible for anyone's injury or death," Pata advised Heath stoically within earshoot of both hide and him, "since they can get rather violent and all when it comes down to big performances." "Just leave," he told them, "it's pointless to have us amuse you guys with our debate." "I guess we'll just have to see who comes away unscathed, neh?" Toshi teased. "Somehow, I think Yoshiki gets the better end as usual." Prophets. He wondered if lies were deliberate lies or just the untruth. When the others left, he shuffled his sheet music and stared at the black lacquer of the piano. He usually played on the crystal pianos because he liked his performance instruments clear like glass, crystal clear, but not fragile at all. Complete opposites, wrapped in one. "I don't think this is about the song at all," hide told him after a moment of silence. "Because you looked at me strangely when I said something." "You said you won, once. But you know I never lose." It was pride speaking, and the urge to carry the conversation further. "Oh, you're still touchy, neh?" hide contemplated with curiousity. "I think we have completely different views on this," he explained. "You know damn well I hate it when you pretend that you don't know something even though you remember it. And, I didn't lose, you didn't win. It was never finished. I don't lose." hide stood up from his seat and walked over to him until they were facing each other. There was a sense of complacency that he wasn't prepared for. "I had time to think this over, you know. Touchy Yo-chan, he's so odd. This isn't about winning, is it?" It wasn't. He kept silent, thinking of a way to phrase his words. "Or, maybe it's about that kiss..." Oh, but it couldn't be. Yet, he didn't back down when hide drew closer and willed himself not to flinch when he felt a hand upon his cheek. Of course he was terrified; he wasn't used to this sort of intimacy where he knew subconsciously, it mattered-- he never liked admitting when these sort of things mattered. He also didn't want to lose, still, because of stubborn pride. Even when hot breath blew across his cheeks, he stared at hide with nonchalance. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked. hide grinned, somewhere between goofy and sly. "Not really, but it doesn't matter, does it?" Just as quick as his hands, hide kissed him and fell into him, closer, deeper. There was a brief flare of struggle as he grabbed hide's hands and tried to take over, nearly slipping against the piano bench. "You're not very good at this, are you?" hide teased. "I don't sleep with someone new every other night." "Nah, that just means you aren't getting enough. Poor Yo-chan--" hide's words disappeared when he silenced him. They both closed their eyes as though trying to figure out what they were really doing, should be doing, when in testimony to his hearing, he heard someone mutter, "My bandmates are strange people." His eyes flew open at the intrusion; hide felt his reaction at once and pulled away. "Oh...um, I didn't interrupt anything....um...important, right?" There Heath stood, one hand holding a cable bundle, turning the same cherry red color as hide's hair. "Um, I was ah...just getting my cable. I think I'll go now..." hide shook his head. "Heath," he called as the bassist turned to leave-- Heath looked back at him--, "you didn't forget anything else, did you?" "Er, no. Of course not." "Good. Just keep this within the band, no?" The young man nodded and bolted. " 'Within the band?' " hide asked mischeviously once Heath disappeared. "How sad, here I was thinking we could declare it to the world and send millions of fans into hysterics." "You're overly confident, aren't you?" "You're an egomaniac, aren't you?" "It doesn't matter when I'm successful, now does it?" He slipped his fingers into hide's red hair, brushing it back. "Although, we could be the one and the same. But I win this. You hold nothing over me." "No," hide contradicted, "you need someone to beat you in some area. Otherwise, the great Yoshiki will be too great. A person can't be too talented, after all, and you can't win everything." As though to prove his point, hide hoisted him upon the piano top and pinned him down with his weight. There was kind laughter at his surprise, and then he tickled him in the ribs, eliciting a yelp and an arch of the back. It must have been a sight, a mirror image of him upon the reflective surface of the piano. Something that appealed to their sense of aesthetics, no less. "Do you know exactly what you're doing?" he asked as he got his breath back. Because he couldn't bear to have to care and fear losing someone. "I think we both know there can't be anything serious here, neverminding what we may feel otherwise," hide answered with careful wisdom. "So let's just leave at something physical, neh? What's that phrase...'friends, with benefits'?" He nodded in consent, but it nagged him; he wondered about the seed of doubt in his mind. "Why are you doing this?" "Beauty. You are gorgeous, and I'm sure you know that." "Oh, that makes me stupid, doesn't it? Like" --his mind searched for the term-- "a 'dumb blonde'." "Hmm, you are sometimes." hide buried his fingers in his long bleached tresses and kissed him, demanding reciprocation, simultaneously preventing his response and leaving a taste of strawberries. "But I like it that way. Imagine, a dead serious band leader all the time. You'll get wrinkles from all the stress! And we can't afford that. The fangirls will think, 'Oh no! Yo-chan's getting old! We can't like an old man!' Then I'll get more fans. And then, I win!" It was somewhat difficult to resist the urge to smack him simply as a response, but he knew there were better ways to answer. "You're a greedy little spider, always trapping people in your web. One day, you'll catch something too big for you to handle." hide raised an eyebrow with a grin that was anything but innocent. "I don't think that day has come, unless you think differently, eh?" "I win." Because he wasn't weak at all, even physically. For that time, he topped. In retrospect, even though they both agreed that it wasn't anything romantic-- there was no "I love you"'-- or serious, they knew that it couldn't stay like that, finding each other in bed much too often to fool anyone, especially themselves. He knew it, and he knew hide did as well. And even if they did have something serious, they knew it still couldn't stay. He remembers reading the famous line, "It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all." They thought in reverse of that. Sometimes, he wonders how to think of it. V. tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis (the times are changing, and we are changing with them) hide's courses at the beauty school taught him many things, including attention to detail. Hence, not too many things missed his eyes whenever he actually got around to paying attention, which was quite frequent, but not all the time. Of course, he noticed the way Yoshiki and Toshi were becoming more distant. A friendship of a minimal ten years, the sort they had, simply didn't fade away without a reason. Maybe it was change, like cutting their hair and toning down the visualness. Yoshiki had few words to say to him about what was happening and between the touring, uncharacteristically, he did not pry. It was a gradual thing, and perhaps, hide thought, Yoshiki and Toshi didn't realize it themselves. Perhaps it was also because he, himself, spent more time with Yoshiki than he should have. And he had arrangements for his solo career as well. It was reasonable enough and the media didn't notice because everyone was busy with the Dahlia Tour. The Nagoya performance seemed alright at first. Bright lights, music, and the beauty of performing. He noticed out of the corner of his eye the looming disaster, but he had not understood exactly what was happening. As the night waned, so did Yoshiki, and then when he crumpled, screaming, he realized his error, and hell caming flooding with Yoshiki's rare tears of pain. It was a whirlwind ballet: the staff trying to get Yoshiki backstage while the band tried to calm the dismayed audience who knew damn well something was wrong; the paramedics trying to restrain Yoshiki long enough to have anesthesia injected, a neck brace fitted, and carried out in a stretcher; Toshi knocking the cameras away in frustration for daring to film such a thing; he who was trying to calm the fans and slip away all at the same time as was the rest of the band; answering the barest minimum of questions to push away the reporters with their bright lights and irritating persistence. The bright lights, harsh and unrelenting, their unescapable flourescence, from the stage to the hospital. It was possibly the worst March day he had ever seen. Toshi was not calm at all. The moment they were informed what was wrong, Toshi had demanded to know whether or not Yoshiki was going to be alright. "You can fix it, right? But it's in the spine! How can you promise he can still MOVE?! If he ends up paralyzed--" When he was pulled away, having encroached upon personal space, he fell silent because, in truth, it wasn't the first time it happened. They all knew Yoshiki had problems with his neck from his drumming. He was exhausted during the Rose and Blood tour, during the Jealousy recordings, and especially during the Art of Life recording. Dahlia wasn't making it any better. It wasn't the first time they'd seen him wince in pain and try to shrug it off. hide knew at once it wasn't the last. The staff didn't want them smoking inside and the moment they stepped outside-- even downstairs in the lobby-- there was press, gathering like a mob of sharks. Because Toshi was in no shape to say anything, the default leadership position landed on hide. It was one the moments where hide felt like yelling at them to go fuck off because it was none of their fucking business. "You know what I hate right now?" Toshi told him much later in the night. "The fact that Yoshi may be crippled, the fact that all this wouldn't happen if we weren't at where we are right now." He buried his face in his palms, sighing heavily. hide stared at him, wondering whether or not he was drunk. "Yo-chan wouldn't want that, and you know it. You're not going to blame yourself for what happened, are you? We all saw it. He knew it. Yo-chan will be fine. He's always been a survivor." "But how can you shake off the feeling that maybe he won't be? I've always been there for him since we were kids as he's been there for me. Now, I don't know. It's not as if he's taken enough trauma in his life, and everything he's worked so hard for, it could be gone." "Isn't it better that he has accomplished some of his dreams than to have not at all? That's a terrible mentality if you stick to yours." "You don't understand Yoshiki at all!" Toshi cried angrily. "I understand him better than you are right now," hide answered. "And most of all, you're not yourself. You should calm down." "Easy for you to say, you don't care, do you?" "I care a lot. I care more than you ever dreamed." "Oh? You just fuck him. I don't see anything else." No. That wasn't true, because he was blind. The air was pregnant with tension. hide grabbed Toshi by the front of his shirt, staring him down. "You're fucking jealous. That's what. I don't need this right now from you, who's suppose to be his best friend, but obviously had a crush on him and now you think it's all my fault and you can't handle it when all the stress explodes." Toshi pushed him away harshly, separating them. "Jealous. Ha. You're paranoid, aren't you? You've fallen for him, and you can't see it. You try so hard to act calm, and collected--" "Because you can't and someone has to!" It was Pata who stepped in. "Both of you need to rest. You're agitated and stressed, and afterwards, you can apologize to each other, no? Neither of you are acting very leader-like. I'll wait for the doctors' report. If you two can't make it out of here without beating each other up, Heath will have to take one of you with him." It was true. It was all very true.
The most worrying thing at first was Yoshiki's call, telling him to go over at once for some important reason. When he got to Yoshiki's apartment later than he wished, he could see Pata and Heath there already with sober faces. The air seemed to sigh and weep silently. Yoshiki stood opposite of Toshi, turned away. He seemed relaxed, but hide knew from experience that Yoshiki was trying to control himself. "What happened?" hide asked as he walked in. Toshi walked towards him with weariness upon his face. "I'm sorry," Toshi told him, "for all that's happened between us. You're better for him than I was." hide had seen this scene before, perhaps in less tension, but it was intimately familiar. There was no other reason for an entire band to be gathered outside of musical and business purposes, especially in this time. "You're leaving, aren't you?" "Yes." His eyes narrowed. "Liar," he hissed, "it's not me you should be apologizing to. It's Yoshiki." "If he gave me the chance, I would." It was as if he was sorrowful. With that, Toshi left. "Toshi wanted to leave the band. We all finally agreed. It seems you have, too," Pata told him before he could ask. There was an urge to down a few shots of vodka to kill off his reactions, because his mind was screaming at him, "This shouldn't be happening!" In the long silence, hide sighed. "I would have said yes, but why does he want to leave? What will become of us?" "Can you guys please leave?" Yoshiki finally spoke. "I don't want to think of this right now." There were no questions or looks when hide didn't budge, especially when Yoshiki asked nothing of hide. hide saw them out before returning to Yoshiki, not completely sure of how the drummer was going to act. That was far more worrying. He found Yoshiki crying silently. It was a soft sort of crying, as man struggling not to. Yoshiki suddenly clutched at him, hands upon his shoulders, his head over his shoulders. hide embraced him, closing the distance between them. "I don't know why he thinks like this now...He's been with me for twenty years...Now he's leaving." He spoke so softly, the silence seemed louder. It was a conversation intended for no one but themselves. "Hasn't he be distancing himself in the last year?" "I didn't think it'd lead to this. He's always stuck with me through the hardest of times...This...this is X. I really don't know what X will do now." "Do you want X to continue?" "I don't want X to die," Yoshiki told him in a near whisper, "I can't let my dream die." "But you still want Toshi at the vocals." "X can't be X without Toshi, don't you think?" "Can we convince him to return?" "I wanted to scream at him to leave," Yoshiki whispered into his ear. "I wanted him out for daring to betray me. I thought I understood why, but...I can't now. I still want him back." hide sighed. "So many years as a band, and now this should happen..." Some part of him told him that while it seemed impossible, it wasn't at all completely unlikely. He had thought Toshi would do something after it became obvious that there was certainly a relationship between Yoshiki and he, and now, Toshi did. It was perfectly human. "The people I really care about always end up leaving me," Yoshiki started, looking at him. "Can I ask you not to?" "I'd do my best not to," hide told him with sincerity. "If I could stay forever, I would." "Thank you," he told him. It was difficult to acknowledge his dependence, because it was even more difficult to admit he was vulnerable, even when he should have been. It was the closest he came to not knowing what to say, not being able to be sure of his words. "You mean so much, it's frightening. I don't think...I'd ever understand..." hide gave a soft sigh, knowing full well Yoshiki would never actually admit it. "It's alright." "I hate this place. I hate this situation. I don't want to be here." hide leaned in for a kiss where the scent of strawberries and something like fine wine mingled. It was smooth, velvety, and hinted of richness. And at once, Yoshiki turned it into something more, something between raging and passionate, fast as though he were trying to forget and couldn't. In the fine irony of it all, hide could feel his tears pressing upon his own cheeks in mirror stains of wetness, and for sure, they both wondered if it was true that you could dry your tears with love. "It's fine," hide told him before Yoshiki could ask. "Everyone needs time."
It was a city that refused to be sensible; it was a city that refused to be real; it was a city that lived upon a facade; in the frantic lifestyle, it was a city that reflected their states of minds, a contrast of sluggish days and fast-moving nights. It was admittingly easier to escape to the nagging light of the press in another country, although people randomly spotted them and ran up to them, gushing. They would just smile and sign autographs and there were no questions as to why only they were showing up in pairs-- no one asked those sort of questions. hide didn't mind getting dragged to expensive restaurants where the two of them looked very much like business associates save for his bright pink hair that always caught a few turned heads or two, because it was nothing like the boring political formalities the Diet required, not when Yoshiki always reserved a smile and words that no one else should have heard. The sunglasses gave away nothing because everyone wore sunglasses--- even when they weren't at those restaurants, but rather a club on Sunset. He laughed when Yoshiki found it more favorable to get through McDonalds with the drive-through, and even moreso when the servers at the drive-through through still recognized him and clamored for an autograph. Everything blended raw, neon with gray and the hum of millions walking about. It wasn't a surprise to find each other showing up at the same studio lot, and end up visiting each other. The sound engineers didn't blink, and were only mildly surprised whenever hide decided to be slightly more scandalous than would have been appropriate. The bands that were on Extasy shook their heads and decided whatever their producer was doing, it was fittingly rockstarish and Southern Californian. Yoshiki was not particularly surprised to find hide scribbling away at lyrics in a side room, for hide always seemed busy, like he was. "What's this one called??" He leaned over hide's shoulder, one hand teasing at the bright pink and black hair "A little lower, eh?" hide asked jokingly, stretching his neck. Then he responded, "A little something special, which you'll see in a while." "That means you're planning something..." "We're always planning something. Isn't that the point?" Yoshiki sighed. "Actually, I came to find you because I was listening to the vocals you sent me. I'm not sure if I like the voices...They're not what I wish they are." hide shook his head. "You wish they are Toshi's voice though you say you hate him. You know there's no other voice like his, and even if you hate him, you still love him." "If you left, do you think I would be satisfied with any other guitarist?" hide grinned. "Just a guitarist, eh?" With a glance at the closed door, Yoshiki relented. "Do you think I'd be happy with any other lover?" hide jumped up abruptly and grabbed Yoshiki in a hug, nearly tipping him over. "Of course not! No one can replace me. I'm so special, are't I?" Yoshiki sighed. "I must be rubbing off on you..." hide wagged a finger in his face. "Here, I don't see why you're so secretive about us. No one actually knows us and it's not as if they care." "There are glass walls here, hide-chan," Yoshiki reminded him. "What would the fans think?" "They think what they want from what they see," hide replied wickedly, "and if we show them something, they'll take it as they wish." One hand snaked to Yoshiki's waist, the other at the nape of the neck, pulling him closer. It was the sound of the door opening and a cough shortly after that sent them jumping apart by reflex, though hide firmly grabbed Yoshiki's wrist before they could truly separate themselves. Ina stood nonchalantly at the doorway, hands in his pockets. "Before you guys get back to screwing-- around, that is, I just wanted to tell hide that he's got a meeting with some legal advisors over LEMONed tomorrow at 10 AM. They tried to reach you last night but said that no one answered at the office, home, cell, or secondary phone line." He shook his head briefly. "Copyright stuff, it seems. It'd be hardly kind to send just me in a pit of sharks, even for you." hide nodded and spread his hands out apologetically. "We were preoccupied--" Yoshiki pressed a hand to his forehead. "--with some...things. I'll be there tomorrow, promise." When Ina left, hide rolled his shoulders, stretching slightly. "What is it that we do when we have free time, Yo-chan?" he asked. "Do I really need to answer?" There was a tired smile. "Sometimes it's almost a fear...we are managing to get somewhere, no? That is, whenever we aren't so absorbed in everything we do." Yoshiki reached out, brushing a knuckle against a rounded cheek in a gesture of reassurance. "It's happening right now, isn't it?" Who was he to doubt him, to doubt himself? It always started with a point in the conversation where it turned ugly. He'd talk about something, hide would disagree, and then the topic spiraled into something else. Sometimes it was petty and easy to make up, sometimes it was not in its brutal honesty. Sometimes Yoshiki wondered why it was they would have their most lucid conversations when drunk. "Oh, remember the time in the morning where you were drunk so early that you decided to go for a swim and nearly drowned?" hide laughed in reminiscence, nursing his fourth bottle of beer, having waited ample time for Yoshiki to show up for a date. "That would have been bad...imagine, 'Leader of X Japan drowns himself while drunk!' A terrible loss!" Yoshiki shook his head. "I'm never doing that again. That was a while back, and I was more foolish then." "Everyone's foolish, Yo-chan," hide reminded him, "no matter how old you get. There's always something that you've never experienced before." "You're allowed that sort of liberty," Yoshiki responded. "You're allowed to be strange, humorous, insane...to be outside of conformity and still be adored and admired." "And you are the one who wanted to break the mold, who'd cross-dress on national television, make yourself a fearsome beast at the drums and something as refined as the Emperor himself at the piano. Even when you abandoned the physical image, it's not as if people wll forget you for what you were." hide turned sarcastic. "Why should the great Yoshiki care about what others think?" "People are contradictory." He found his voice taking a bitter edge. "And yet, if you left your visual image, what would the fans think?" hide laughed. "I've always been the most visual member, haven't I? And I've lost some of it as well...but in truth, if I dropped my image altogether, I don't know what would happen. People would still remember me as they remember you and your wedding dresses, wouldn't they? Maybe I'll lose fans who liked me for the image, maybe I'll gain fans for being 'normal.' I doubt that I can be 'normal' though. People are picky like that. Everything we do, it's in the spotlight. The reaction is unpredictable." Yoshiki tapped aimlessly at the tabletop for a while, soaking in the surrounding noise before he finally said, "You're doing well, you have nothing to fear. This project of ours...it'll take longer than it should be. I wish things were easier, and at the same time, I know I should like this difficulty..." hide finished his bottle before he responded, brows furrowed. "What do you mean by that? We have no problems!" "We're always breaking the rules, aren't we? And what allows us to be successful? Something. It doesn't mean we'd always be successful." "Don't bring that up, Yo-chan. I don't need that from you." Yoshiki shook his head. "You're drunk, hide-chan. You're always more touchy when you're drunk." hide shook his head and wagged a finger at Yoshiki. "That isn't true! I'm just close to drunk, that's all. Speaking of wedding dresses, why don't you find that old wedding dress and I'll prove to you just how 'touchy' I can be." The drummer blushed faintly at the lascivious tone. "I don't think I can find that dress right now. But I can take you up on the latter part of your offer." "Consider it done!" hide got up, scraping his seat across the ground. "Your place or mine?" "Unless you want one of your friends walking in, I think it'll be mine." "Oh, I forgot that..." "And seeing as to the fact you are obviously not going to drive..." He trailed off as hide proved his point, standing, wobbling slightly. "And just what did you have before I got here to witness your beerfest? A whole bottle of Jack Daniels?" "Not quite," hide responded, "but something close to it. Pata recommended it to me when I last called him." "Then I need to call Pata and tell him to stop this, shouldn't I?" "Ah, but what would the fun be then? And what makes you think you're good enough to drive?" "Because you're currently draped over me nondiscretely, having consumed quite enough alcohol, while I had far less than my tolerance level and am not falling over my own feet." Yoshiki guided hide into car, though it was not quite necessary, and then seated himself. "Not to mention, it's MY car." "Right," hide smiled dangerously, "your precious car." It was upon the severe downhill slope of a hill when hide decided that the ride was boring. Some part of his brain said it wasn't safe, the rest of brain said fuck it, it's better this way, and that was exactly how Yoshiki ended up with hide nuzzling his neck, struggling to keep a foot on the brakes to keep his car in control despite his shuddering and other more than minimal distractions hide's quick hands were preoccupied with. "hide, what the fuck are you doing?" he managed between his lips. "What does it look like, hm?" His tone was husky, and did not reassure Yoshiki when it came to driving. "Not when I'm -driving.- Getting us killed is not a good idea." "Ah, but what's the fun..." hide sighed, pouted, and then resumed his ministrations. "...where there's no danger, where's the thrill?" The drummer's breath was rapidly quickening. "hide, I'm trying to drive in perilious roads where you've more than enough times barely avoided accidents when not drunk. This isn't helping ME. If we're dead, what's the fun?" "It's a long and winding road...and I never said I was the best driver." hide chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt. "But I'm sure you won't get us killed..." Yoshiki had a sarcastic reply in mind ("Oh no! Not me! But YOU--"), but it was one that disappeared quickly. He discovered that red lights were extremely useful, ever so thankful that one red light usually meant a red at the next one, and a fortunate thing that the windows were tinted enough so that the towering SUVs that graced the road couldn't see inside, and even more fortunate that it was late and the police were slacking in their patrols, for it could have very easily been a speeding ticket and an embarrassing situation. "hide! Stop it!" Soft gasps. "Do you really want to stop?" It was wicked touch. "Not here, not now!" And yet, there was an edge he knew and felt, a body responding as a body did. "I heard that many times, Yo-chan. It's more interesting this way, much more thrilling." His mind wanted the car on smooth cruise control, impossible in the twining, twisting canyon roads, and the senses reminded him that the car was swerving drunkenly, hidden only by the silent and desolate hills so late into the night. It was a very fortunate thing that the further into the hills they drove, the more empty the surroundings became. The posh sports car pulled into the driveway, a sudden halt that jolted hide forcefully forward with ponders as to why the airbags had not yet activated-- the stop was harsh in a race to stop the easy and rapid acceleration of the car-- as a squeal rose in the air, tires whining at the slamming brakes. When the whistling faded away, there was nothing to hear except his own breathlessness, a combination of anxiety and frustration packed into a storm that hung over him, and hide's soft laughter. "God himself couldn't have done better!" hide exclaimed, a mocking voice for Yoshiki only. "Ah, what a man Yo-chan is, and look, the airbags didn't go off." "That could have gotten us killed," he told him. "So? It's not as if you haven't done enough things that could have gotten you killed." "Us, hide, you -and- me. It's not one person." "I would rather have us die together at the same time, then, than being separated and suffering that separation." His reply was instant, almost caustic. "You know damn well what I would have done if you killed yourself." Yoshiki immediately pulled hide close to him, eyes wide, still breathless, though for entirely different reasons. "Don't you dare do that, don't you dare. If you made me promise not to ever do that again, what gives you the liberty to do follow?" hide didn't respond, but rather kissed him forcefully, raging and fierce. When he pulled away, his eyes shone in the starlight, reflecting what lurked beneath. "It doesn't have to happen, Yoshiki, and as long as it does not happen, it's fine. But if it should, then the more brief the suffering, the better." Yoshiki shoved at him, hissing softly. "It's not that simple, hide. It's never that simple. It wasn't that simple when we started fucking, and it certainly hasn't gotten any simpler." "Then it would just be like old times." hide shifted over to Yoshiki's seat, slightly awkward as he tried to be sleek, impossible in his inebriated state. There was a certain hostility in both of their eyes, a sort that showed up in their silent battle for dominance. He caught Yoshiki's wrists in one hand, pinning the drummer against the seat with his weight, lips moving up along one side of his neck, nipping sharply. He felt Yoshiki reflexively arching his neck, gasping, and moved to his lips instead. His touch ghosting over a flat stomach was a familiar feeling, the sound of just the two of them was intimately familiar and rightly so, and hide knew exactly what he was doing, because he had done it so many times before. He was the only one who could make Yoshiki cry with a simple breath, the only one who where to touch, to caress, to fondle, and make his back bow in a beautiful arc. It was those things that finally made Yoshiki relent and give in, to stop resisting and fighting. He loosened his grasp on his wrists and the drummer slipped one hand out, running through hide's bright pink hair. Yoshiki pulled away slightly, eyes half-lidded. "We must be insane," the old young man whispered to hide, "here and now...you must be insane, to do this...and I must be as well." "It's not as if we're waking anyone else." Yoshiki pushed hide back against the steering wheel, smiling as the horn squawked. "We did now." hide shrugged. "I don't care. You know that." His expression sobered. "What do you care for, then? Being carefree is one thing, being stupid is something else." It infuriated him. It was as if Yoshiki did not trust him, and never quite understood him. "Do you want me to say that I care about you? You know I do. I can say so many things, and people know I don't mean everything. Don't you trust me?" Yoshiki closed his eyes, sighing. "I do, hide. I do. You know me well, you should. You know how few others I trust, and I trust you so much, it's painful." hide moved so that he straddled the younger man and leaned close to Yoshiki, resting his head upon his shoulder. "You never let go, do you?" "Don't you ever wonder, hide? You're the idol of so many people, people who love you, who say they love you, who wish they were in my position just to be close to you-- and yet, if they knew, wouldn't they be crushed? The responsibility I hold, I wouldn't want to put on anyone else...would you?" "You're the one who's asking me to take responsibility, no?" "That's not my point." "I know, Yo-chan. I wouldn't want to hurt people. Not when there's no reason to." "We should get out of the car, shouldn't we?" "I don't mind this place, it's nice and cozy and very exhibitionistic." "...You need to drink less, hide-chan. And cut down on the smoking if you plan on living here longer." "Ah, but that's why I'm going back to Japan--" "And I'm staying here." "The things I put up with..." Yoshiki huffed. "Speak for yourself--" hide hushed him. Yoshiki began to relax against his seat and pulled hide into a loose hug. "Tell me hide, why?" "Why what?..." "Why do you love me?" hide told him.
He dreams: The night view of Tokyo is before them, many floors up. The lights sprawl across the landscape, twisting and curling as a dragon. Toshi stands in a suit next to him, arms folded behind his back, away from him He wears sunglasses inside to shield himself from the bright flourescents. Yoshiki is at ease, an open shirt and tailored pants. They refuse to look at each other. "It is beautiful, isn't it?" His voice can be barely heard, a contrast to his harsh screaming. "It is. And it dirties the land all the same." His own voice was low. "Everything is like that, isn't it? The price for one glorious thing is something far uglier." "What is the price for X, then? My injury? No, it must be something greater because I have overcome that." "You never did," Toshi reminds him. "If you still drum, you will still hurt. Such isn't the price." "I always win in the end. I come out alive, I come out the victor." "Do you always want that?" "I would." "Very characteristic of you. You haven't changed at all." "And you have?" "You've changed me, Yoshi. I was the good little boy. You were the delinquent. But it's all for the rockstar image, isn't it? The makeup, the hair, loss of an old identity for something new." "Do you regret it?" "Sometimes, yes, sometimes no. Change flows carefully when you are famous, doesn't it?" "And you say I haven't changed." "Your characteristics." Toshi sighs. "Arrogant, sure, confident, conceited." "I have reason to believe in my powers." "I don't doubt you. But your qualities are tiresome, especially when I cannot change you." "I will change as I see fit." "You could change slowly with hide. You do, in some way. You insist you surrender nothing, and yet, you will surrender everything for him even when you don't want to. Even when you didn't realize it, I knew it would happen. Did you know, Yoshiki, I would have done the same for you if it happened between us?" "We have nothing between us now." "Indeed. Absolutely nothing." Yoshiki turns away, shirt tail flapping. "I want nothing of this. I hate you." The view does not change and he finds Tokyo still before him. Toshi still stands next to him, never touching him. "You refuse to leave me alone?" "It's not me. It's you. It's your fault, you know," Toshi tells him. "If not everything in X was stamped with your name upon it, if you had not ignored me, if you would admit to your weaknesses. X was a beautifully smooth crescendo, rising to fortisimo of likes unparalleled, only to be cut off right there and then, just as you composed Kurenai with a crescendo on cymbals that cut off. Doesn't it make you angry with frustration, if your own hand should dictate the future without realizing it?" He does not reply because he knows it is partly true. He is surprised, but his body does not react to feeling hands from behind upon his naked abdomen, caressing him. At the touch of lips upon his neck, he cannot help but press back in the body against him, throwing his head back, and he knows it is hide. He is peripherally aware of Toshi's hidden gaze and thin-drawn lips. He wants it seen, a stabbing desire to provoke jealousy. He wants it seen, hide reaching for a kiss, running fingers through his hair, nuzzling his jawline, making him arch his back as one hand teases a nipple and the other unbuckles his belt, slipping into his pants. He shudders, moaning softly, and closes his eyes as his legs buckle and he slips to his knees. The gentleness could break him. The floor is cold, white marble, even brighter in its harshness. Toshi is not at his side. hide is no longer gentle, and he likes it better. It makes him gasp and tense, and cruel seeming actions satiates a fury when other things could not. It is his drug where his mind cannot forget pain, and the desire. He prefers the bruising kiss in the end, and though it is not always hide's nature, he requests it of him. "Was it just the beauty?" Yoshiki asks. "No," is the reply. "It is many things I cannot explain. It is also the uncharacteristic actions we take." Toshi is before him, and Yoshiki is trying to think. He does not feel the same way if it were hide, though he could not understand why. There is truly nothing for him; his hate for Toshi is gone, his sadness gone, everything gone. "He had your heart before you realized I had mine for you," Toshi said. "And it is very sad that nothing more amounted to it." The Tokyo night stays. In the pseudo-night of Los Angeles, he wakes, missing the body that typically lied next to him. The drawn shades cannot hide the streetlights and the hum of the city even in what should be the twilight hours. The morning mist is rolling in, spidery and thick, consuming the city, only to be burned away in the sun. A city caught in dreams and nightmares; it is fitting he should stay here. If only it is a city of angels... "I'm leaving, and I can't stay." "Why not?" "Because it hurts to see you with him." A friend of twenty years, just like that? "Ok." "Do you even care?" "X is not X without you, you know that. And X means everything to me. You wouldn't reconsider?" "I'm not going to let you win. I don't hate you, though. I want to be honest with you, because I'd still be your friend." "A friend of many years does not just step away now. You know X is incomplete without you." "Then perhaps you can save years of your life by no longer drumming such demanding songs." "That's not the reason." "Perhaps it's my own selfish reasons. But I want to leave." "It's your wish. I can't change that. If you think you can survive by yourself in this music market, go ahead." "I know I can. But that's not the real issue, and you know that." "Aren't you marrying, Toshi? I shouldn't be the one on your mind then, and I am also taken." "You're angry that I'm leaving, and you would not go beneath yourself." "Do what you want, Toshi. Do what you really want to do. You've already hurt me." He can still taste the bitterness.
-I don't think I tell you this enough. Tell me what? - That I love you. I will always love you.
They say that the bleached-blonde young man-- not really young, more middle-aged-- who ordered a decaf latte in accented English everyday and sat to watch the sunset, orange light reflecting off his sunglasses, was a tragic young man grown weary and old. They say they have never seen his eyes because he always wore his sunglasses and by the time nightfall came, he melted into the shadows and left in an expensive car, as those sort of people did. They say he went down to Santa Monica once a year-- not that they could really tell, but he did go south and rumors said Santa Monica-- and came back none better. Perhaps, they mused, he was someone famous fallen from the limelight for whatever reason it may have been, a foreign star that just couldn't work out well in America. They got plenty of those around. They did know he was wealthy; wealthy people tended to be just like that. Even stranger was the way all the giggling fake blondes couldn't get his attention-- he couldn't be homosexual, because those type of people lived and stayed in West Hollywood. In truth, they really couldn't figure out what he was. He didn't fit in their stereotypes and for the most part, stayed out of their lives. Even to the workers and his employees at Extasy, they had very little idea of what went on in his head. He came to the studios in the early morning, he worked almost nonstop except for a few breaks, and he did not leave until late night. Those who did know his history said very little about it, except to reprimand the newcomers who whined about working obscene amounts of hours. Respect was always the case, and in truth, he was a man to be respected, be it that he wore makeup and fishnet at one point in his life, or not. And those who had worked at the studio the longest always remembered pink-haired man who had come, and gone forever, taking some irreplaceable with him. The old young man worked very hard despite the things upon his mind. He was the type to lose himself in his work, the sort that the sound engineers dreaded because he really did work nonstop at times. With all the work he had recorded, he never released anything, because he said, "It isn't my time, yet." The people always brought up the issue with all the recordings from the Last Live. "There's so much footage and content there. What are you going to do with it?" He did not want to deal with it, but he realized he was simply running away from the truth, for more than a year, really. "I suppose people want to hear it...they want to see it, and all of it was intended for that, wasn't it? We'll just have to work with it." The staff at Extasy was not particularly eager to handle the task, though quite eager to hear and see what their manical producer did in his past. Nonetheless, when they heard everything, everything, they realized why he did not want to work on it for such a length of time. Tears, very appropriately, even from him. The sunglasses frequented his face very often even inside the studio during that time. It hurt to see and hear. It hurt very much, for him, to think back to the days when everything was nothing. To escape it, sometimes he would sit back and remember the days whenever his work was enjoyable not just for the music, but the companionship as well. Those days seem very far away now. "Yoshiki? Are you alright?" He shakes his head, pulling himself out of a dream. "I am fine. Where was I?" "Here, at 4:23. You said you wanted to redo the vocals." "Ah, I see. More balance, I think. There was something off." It is a bit later when the old and experienced engineer comes back and asks him, "What was it you were thinking about today, enough so that even you would lose your place?" He smiles slightly. "It is something not for your time," he says not to the older man, but to the rest that only pretend to be busy, wanting to find out more about their elusive producer. He always dreams when he does not want to. They are dreams where hide was alive and X was with him, but they are better dreams in better nights; only when he wakes does he not want to dream. -Fine- StuffDisclaimers: I apologize for an harm, insult, or grievances caused to X Japan, Yoshiki, Toshi, the late hide, the Japanese music industry, actual musicians who know I'm not much of a musician, Ferrari, the residents of Encino, Sunset Blvd. territory, and anyone somehow related to the things mentioned in this story. This story is obviously not real (though many people may speculate on how much truth there really was), but certain events did happen, such as the drowning incident, which one may learn of if you have seen the Last Live DVD (something like, hide and Yoshiki got smatteringly drunk while discussing their new album Dahlia, dived into a pool, and had be to dragged out by the crew before they drowned, so afterwards, they always held meetings by phone). Most of the reference material used are the various translations from X-japan fansite X-Japan.de and various translations from the DAHLIA group (missing now? 2006). I'm very grateful for their translations. Generally, I stay away from Real People Slash (RPS). I guess X is a little different, but it doesn't excuse my behavior. They presented an image of themselves, perhaps really who they were or perhaps not. It is like a fictional image, so to speak, like a "character" from a story, and they know they're providing an image and something that probably -isn't- who they really were. Then again, perhaps they became the very image they projected.
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