Chapter Text
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, driving through Tokyo late at night. The world is a different place at midnight. I try and breathe the fresh air, but the night holds too much wetness for my liking. It’s cold and windy, not what I’d take for the best of nights. I grit my teeth and push a strand of hair out of my eyes. This sucks.
Even as I lean into the steering wheel, a barrage of thoughts scurries through my racing mind.
Hinata. Gackt. Megumi. They’re all of the important people in my life. They are my memories, or at least a few. I can hardly keep my eyes on the images within my mind’s eyes and I know the cheerful times that come to mind are not an accurate portrayal of my current life. The memories of my wife and child, however, fade to the background.
Again and again, I see his eyes, feel his lips.
My eyes drift from the road, but I quickly refocus. I lick my lips and try to think to think of simple sound--just noise, no words. It could be the beginning of a new song, or it could be the beginning of a painting. Whatever it is, my whole body is anxious for more movement than is available in my car.
I know my heart is not only mine, but still, why should it be? I’ve chosen someone to be with, and she doesn’t boast nebulous-blue eyes or strong, firm muscles. So why should my mind slip away from her gentle smile and towards his selfish gaze?
I feel a surge of annoyance at Gackt now. How he (even now) rules my time with pointless thoughts. The stars should be pulling my gaze, not the memories of some night a few weeks ago. Why can’t I find peace even when I’m alone? I hate this twisted game, the circles he leads me in-- that I lead myself in. I scowl into the night.
I refuse to let this man do anything to me that I don’t choose. He forgets, I think, what I am, who I am. I’m no woman, hardly soft to touch, and never sweet and demure. That man should know.
I frown again as the stop light signals for me to pause and wait. There, hung low against the sky, the light hums at me in its luminosity, privy to some understanding that I’m not. Here, under its now unblinking gaze, I think one final, clear thought before I continue on with this road.
I shall direct you, dear Gackt, back to where I want you. We’ll see who concedes first.
I turn my vehicle about, searching for a place to stop and truly think. While I make my route, I think again of those sweet lips pulling into me as I seek out a quiet nook in the world to discern exactly what to do from here.
I pull down this familiar street, and I see a brilliant glow. I pause my midnight journey, and stop to wonder where it is. The thought comes upon me all the sudden and I cannot get it out of my head.
Blue. The world is blue.
The thought blurs in my mind, unexpected as it is, and I slowly correct myself. No, the world is a color diverse as light…it’s someone else who is blue. Nothing more. It wouldn’t make sense, otherwise.
Gackt, you set my mind in circles.
I sigh and lean forward again. I drum my fingers on my leg. I have too much energy, too many pent-up feelings and too many unresolved thoughts. If I don’t talk to someone, I think I’ll scream. In seconds, my phone is out, and I flip it open to browse through the list of names. I stop when I get to Gackt’s name. This place, so close to the man who haunts my thoughts, seems right. I hesitate for a moment, but then press the button.
I wait, listening to the tones, and I think that maybe I should hang up.
But I don’t.
A handful of rings later, I hear a familiar voice. “Hello, this is Gackt.” His voice is low and smooth as it always is, and not muffled by drowsiness at all. Like the mysterious man that he is, Gackt seems to exude an air of a millennia.
At least he wasn’t asleep-- at least he isn’t dreaming. I sink into my chair, relieved. “Good evening, Gacchan. I hope I’m not calling in the middle of anything,” I say politely, even as I run an anxious hand through my hair. Somehow, things are changing.
As I regain my thoughts, Gackt makes a low humming noise, as though contemplating the question. “I’m not doing anything so important, no…” he pauses, sounding the slightest bit curious. It’s a tempered emotion. “And why might you be calling at this hour?” He sounds hesitant, unsure of how to treat me. Or maybe I’m reading things into his all-too-normal tone.
I laugh, breathless. “It’s not that late, Gacchan,” I say lightly, tugging at an amulet for safe driving that hangs from my rear-view mirror. A mischievous smile sneaks away my frown, and oh, wouldn’t it be great if he were wandering around that big house of his, hot and uncomfortable? I feel a surge of pleasure imagining Gackt as miserable as I am disturbed before snorting with embarrassment.
Shit, that’d mean my voice would be turning him on--again. Not exactly what I’m looking for.
I cough lightly. I really shouldn’t have called.
“Oh?” Gackt utters, feigning interested surprise.
I want to laugh and scream at the same time. This is more difficult than I imagined. Why did I call? Why do I put myself in these sorts of situations? I grit my teeth and wonder how I can end this conversation without embarrassing myself. “No, Gackt. It’s not late…well, maybe a little late for a phone call. But you were up, so it’s not a problem, right?” I ramble on, and stare up at the night sky. This is so…
“Not at all.” Ever the gentleman, Gackt addresses me politely, though his tone is more sensual than not.
I freeze up again. Damn, this is going in the wrong direction. What if he thinks I called because I want to pursue--something-- with him? He can’t read my tone any more than I can, right?
“Forgive me for saying so, but you seem,” Gackt gives a delicate breath, almost hesitating. But Gackt never balks, and so he goes on, “you seem a bit tense, Hyde. You didn’t just call me to chat, did you?”
I start; am I that transparent? But this is Gackt I’m talking to. I glower at the streetlight’s angry glow outside my windshield. The light shines into my car in just the wrong way, glaring into my eyes. I want to break the thing.
Gackt gives a small chuckle, urging me to relax. He says nothing. He merely waits for me to say something, to come to him. The bastard. He’s having fun at my expense. He’s the one who should be nervous, not me.
“…this isn’t going the way I wanted it to…” I admit slowly.
“Is that right?” Gackt asks, serene in his amusement. He makes some small movement, however-- I can hear the rustling of his clothes. “Well, that’s not such a bad thing, now is it?” He purrs delicately.
He doesn’t understand me any better than everyone else. I want someone to understand what I need even when I don’t I want a friendly conversation, but I want to throttle anyone who talks to me.
I fake a laugh, and settle into my chair. As I push my hair away from my eyes, I murmur, “Oh, you know? All the world looks blue today…” I breathe the last word, surprised that I said it at all. Where is my mind today?
Gackt pauses. “Your favorite color.” He notes. Silence, then, as he considers the next part of our conversation. “I believe that ‘blue’ does not exist.” He states cryptically.
A little hurt and mostly annoyed, I choke out a laugh. “What-- why do you say that?” The gravel in my voice must surely be put to sleepiness, or perhaps an on-setting cold. Not to nerves. Or, at least, I hope it is so.
“Blue,” Gackt replies calmly, “Is merely a family name, dearest Hyde.” He pauses with this announcement, and his words come then in smooth, deep strokes. Like a master calligrapher with his stylus, Gackt pulls sound from behind luscious lips around a soft, trembling tongue. “There is the color of water, a light and airy thing, if you would have it…then there is azure, the color of sky…or an electric blue that lights as much as it glows with energy.” Here, silence breaks the flow while Gackt considers more color than I am thinking of, and he goes on with a lover-of-words’ passion. “Ah, but there is the blue of nature, the green that speaks of blue birth. Cobalt blue, which is as dark as any blue hopes to get, traditional indigo, and oh…the blue of the universe. But what would you call that, Hyde?”
The question takes me by surprise. “Nebula?” I hazard, failing the words that haunt my mind. “I don’t know…”
Gackt is unperturbed. “But which is that you see today? All around you?” His voice is soft, barely audible. It’s an invitation, and it’s a warning.
“Gackt,” I call, half in earnest concern, half exasperated.
“Oh? You would call this blue by my name?” His voice is teasing and all too sensual.
“Good night, Gackt,” I reply abruptly, not willing to commit myself further in this conversation.
I pull away from the phone with barely time to hear Gackt’s lascivious voice murmur, “Take care, Hyde.”
My heart burns a hole in my chest as it speeds along. I look blankly into the night sky. I sigh. What did that accomplish? Are we any closer to reasserting our friendship, or closer to--whatever--it is Gackt started that night? What do I want from Gackt? I mull through these thoughts.
I stare up at the moon, blocking the modest light. Slowly, I turn about heading for a sleepy house, haunted by those eyes.
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I lean into the high-backed chair with an air of mystery. Here, at one of Japan’s most exclusive English-style tea shops, Megumi and I take afternoon tea. It’s an unusual break for me, brought about by someone’s mistake, I’m sure, but it works out in my favor. I need this time with my wife, after all. I need to remember why we married-- why we built a family like this. Otherwise…well.
The air is made crisp by a biting wind. I look out the glass onto the veranda, eyeing the high-backed chairs out there. It seems a little cold from in here, even though it’s nestled between two buildings. Though I long to be outside (screw the cold), I can see a glimmer of the sky. From out there, it might be glimpsed with ease, with all the azure and cerulean shades. I ignore the thought that immediately follows this fantasy, the reminder of the too-real outside world that I don’t want to face.
Outside, it would be intimate…everyone is locked in here away from the wind. In most places around here, if I listened hard enough, I’m sure I could catch someone’s conversation. Thankfully, though, Megumi knows better than most and lead us to this private little corner-- and, oh, the mid-afternoon sun is creeping into view.
I smile, and say as much to my wife. “Look, it’s getting closer…” I reach out playfully, closing my hand around the golden-rod colored disk. “A present,” I let the mischief infiltrate my smile, “for you, dear.”
Megumi laughs sweetly, all of yesterday’s annoyance clear of her beautiful features. “Oh, you…” but she is pleased, that smile says.
The silence stretches between us, and I gaze quietly over the horizon, studying what I can see through the glass. It’s a small distraction from the turmoil within, and despite my pretty words, Megumi notices.
“Dear, you seem a little stressed,” she murmurs, all softness and care. She waits a moment, then sighs a little. “…so you don’t want to talk to talk about it…hm?” She looks at me imploringly, waiting for me to look her in the eyes. When I (stubbornly) don’t, she pushes on to a new subject. For a moment, they seem almost-- but her words chase any unpleasantries away. “Do you remember, Hyde? There was that party…”
I look at her blankly, not catching her meaning. I pick up my teacup and wait for her to continue.
“I was thinking we’d invite everyone over and trade recipes. You know, that simple “gourmet food party” Mariko was telling us about.” Megumi stirs her spoon, making soft clicking noises against the china. She looks at me from across the table, a questioning look in those chocolate eyes. She licks her lips, as though pondering what to say. She’s silent for a long moment.
I look to my side and see a couple fawning over one another. The woman leans in and takes her boyfriend’s hand. She’s smiling even as she wrinkles her nose. I look away and allow my eyes to settle on the window behind Megumi. The sky is a pleasant shade--and more clear than it has been of late.
“Hyde,” Megumi begins. Her tone tells me that she’s about to begin a barrage of worries and “concerns.”
I take a slow breath, and lean away from the table to cross my arms.
“You’re so distant lately. You’re so quiet--more so than usual, I mean.” She purses her lips and leans forward. “I’m worried about you. I want you to know that you can always talk to me.” She speaks the words softly, but with earnest. She touches her neck delicately, and offers a smile. “I really,” and she smiles again, but says nothing more. Her hand flutters to her lap. “Well, you really should talk about whatever’s bothering you.”
I nod, and shift awkwardly. Talk. That’s always the first thing a woman will tell you to do in a situation like this. Hell, in any situation. I tap my foot restlessly, and my fingers itch for a cigarette. I want to look anywhere where Megumi is not, but etiquette demands that I acknowledge her. I swing my leg to the floor and push away from the table.
Megumi frowns. “Wait, where are you--”
“I’ll be right back, dear. I just want a breath of fresh air.” I gesture towards the windows behind her. “I’ll be right back.” I say it quietly, and try to imitate her earnest, gentle tone. Even I think it sounds distant.
Megumi puts her cup down. “I’ll come with you,” she murmurs and pushes away from the table. She looks up and meets my gaze.
“No, no, honey. I’ll only be a minute…I was just going to grab a smoke,” I hurry to say, shoving my hands in my pocket to fumble for a cigarette.
Megumi purses her lips and looks at me firmly, “We’re here to spend time together, dear.” She emphasizes the word quietly, but with the same firm commitment of before. She keeps her voice low enough to be private, but with conviction.
I nod, and feel my shoulders tense. I head for the balcony; Megumi follows. I reluctantly hold the door open for her and walk to the corner. The sky is XX. I want to smile and turn my face towards the heavens, but a cold weight in my stomach keeps my expression blank. I fumble with the lighter, nearly dropping it. I offer Megumi a shaky smile when I see her watching.
I wonder if I stay out here long enough, will she go back in? I take a deep breath and hold it. Something about this fresh, almost-spring air feels fragile--as though it would fall to pieces at even a gentle caress.
I look to Megumi and watch her shiver in the wind. I turn my eyes down, smiling a little at her expression; she looks fit to call down a mob…she could certainly deal with me. I lean against the metal barrier and ease into a more unassuming position. I’m still not relaxed, but I can only hope that Megumi will drop the subject. I watch her rub at her arms, looking as cold as she must have felt a month earlier.
I give my wife a playful prod. “Are you that cold? It’s much better than it was a week ago, you baby!” I smile now.
Megumi punches me back and smiles as well. “You’re the one who wanted to come out.”
“It’s nice out,” I grumble, defiant.
We look out at the city in silence. I wonder what to say to my wife that could make things better. I can’t get the words past my tongue. I feel a cold shiver that’s not from the air.
I look at Megumi with worried eyes, and watch as the curling tendrils of smoke disappear into the chill air.
Where are things headed for my wife and I?