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To Love A Rock Star	By : avadedrahetarra Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > S.K.I.N. Views: 1649 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of S.K.I.N. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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III. Gackt: Breaking the News, Breaking the Habit

Since I quit smoking, I hadn’t regretted it. I pride myself on my health, on my physical fitness and prowess. But, for the first time in the few years I’ve been off cigarettes, I would have killed for one.

Instead, I called You. But he wasn’t home. I called Chachamaru. He was busy. Ju-Ken and Ryu seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth. I even tried Ren, but he was out as well. Deciding to risk it, I called Hyde. Thankfully, his wife was out and he was home with his son.

“Gacchan!” I could hear the relief in his voice. “How’s L.A.?”

“Big, crowded, and hot. How’s home?”

“Medium, pleasantly populated, and comfortable.”

I laughed, grateful for his humor.

“So,” he prompted. “How’s the rainbow?”

“The what?”

“Miyavi. Christ, Gackt, you’re awfully slow.”

I groaned, upset with being caught off guard. I flopped back onto the large bed my suite offered, cradling my cell phone in one hand as I worked my belt free from my pants with the other.

“He’s okay, I suppose.”

Hyde snorted as I tossed the belt to the foot of the bed.

“Just ‘okay,’ huh? Come on, Gacchan. You can do better than that. Way better.”

“Well, I can tell you this,” I smiled. “His wardrobe is not an act. He puts your Tetsu to shame.”

Hyde laughed again.

“So I’ve seen. What else?”

“He’s smart, with a good head on his shoulders. His intelligence would be astounding to most because of his appearance, but he’s a sharp kid.”

“I can imagine the conversations you two might have.”

“It could be Taiwan all over again,” I teased Hyde.

“Oh please,” Hyde shot back, though I could hear the smile in his voice, “like you need any more gay rumors flying around you.”

“Well, we all know that I don’t prefer one gender over the other.”

“Gacchan! He’s ten years younger than you!”

“I haven’t expressed interest in him, Haido.”

“But I know you, Gackt. I know how you enjoy pretty things. Pretty people. I know your band, I know the kind of people you like to surround yourself with. And from what I’ve seen and heard, Miyavi’s right within that range.”

I knew I couldn’t dispute Hyde, because my friend was right. Sliding from the bed, I undid the buttons of my shirt with one hand, shifting the phone from one side to the other to slide the material from my shoulders and drop the shirt onto the bed with my belt.

“I know, Hyde,” I went on, heading for the closet, “but I’ve been warned off Miyavi.”

“By who?”

“Yoshiki.”

“What?”

I sighed, searching around my clothing for one of my favorite shirts and tossing it onto a chair.

“Before JRock Revolution, Yoshiki told me that Miyavi was coming aboard. He told me that I wasn’t to do anything to Miyavi that would jeopardize his future. Like I could corrupt him or something. It seems like Yoshiki has a special stock in the kid.”

“Wow. I never took Yoshiki for the type to threaten anyone.”

“He didn’t exactly threaten me, but right now, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s got a lot of sway over me. If I screw up, Yoshiki is well within his rights to ruin me.”

“Gackt, are you scared of Yoshiki?”

I knew that Hyde was teasing me, trying to make light of the situation, but he had no idea how close to the truth he was getting. I settled for offering a small grunt as I pulled a pair of jeans from the closet and let them join the shirt on the chair.

“I’m sure things will work out for the best in the long run,” Hyde told me softly, his voice dropping. “For you, they always do.”

“I suppose.”

“I have to make something for my son to eat. Call back again sometime, okay?”

“Of course.”

We said our goodbyes and I disconnected the call, suddenly feeling more alone than I had before. Dropping my cell onto a pillow, I gathered my clothing and took a hot shower.

I’d done the L.A. club scene a time or two in my previous visits, so I had a few places that I liked to go. That night, as I was settling into a secluded booth, I only wanted to sit, have a few drinks, and watch the American’s do what they tended to do. I found it somewhat humorous that they were so unrestrained, so wild in their antics. Nothing at all like Japan.

The waitress brought me my third round -it was a slow night-, and I settled further back, relaxing for once.

“Gackt?”

The voice was extremely close to my ear, soft and familiar. I twitched away, looking up in shock.

“Miyavi?”

The boy smiled down at me.

“Would you mind terribly if I join you? My table got taken when I went to the bathroom.”

“No, by all means,” I waved to the open area of the booth, smiling.

He slid into the opposite end and moved until he was around a foot away from me. I took a moment to take in his look: loose black jeans, a white tank top that hung limply from his frame, and black boots. His tattoos gleamed against his pale skin, contrasted only by the multi-colored hair that hung stylishly around his shoulders. He had a habit of sucking his lip ring into his mouth at random moments, an act that I found tantalizing for some reason.

“What brings you out?” he asked suddenly, turning himself to curl into the booth, looking directly at me.

I shrugged, finishing off my drink in silence. He moved closer to me, staring at my face.

“You’d look so much better without the contacts,” he said bluntly.

His statement caused me to laugh. I thought that maybe he was already drunk, that maybe he was just rambling. Yet, the look on his face, the utterly wounded expression, told me otherwise.

“You’re laughing at me, Gackt,” he said, leaning back, curling into himself. “That’s just rude.”

My laughter died and I stared at my empty glass. Mentally, I kicked myself. For a number of reasons. One, I was in a club with Miyavi, well on my way to being drunk and getting out of hand. Two, I was breaking a Yoshiki rule just by being near the kid outside of work. Three, I had insulted him.

“Smooth move, G,” I though bitterly, looking around for a waitress.

“I suppose I deserved it,” Miyavi said, leaning his head against the back of the booth. “My manager is always telling me I’m too blunt for my own good.”

“That depends on who you’re talking to,” I said quietly, not quite looking at him. “Some people don’t mind. I don’t. In fact, people who are blunt are more likely to tell the truth.”

He smiled again and I felt almost greedy with want to see more. His smile lit up his entire face, making him appear more boyish than before. I was reminded startlingly of Hyde when I had first met him in 2002. Miyavi would always carry an air of youthfulness about him, I could already tell.

With a sigh, I gave up on flagging down a waitress and crawled from the booth. I had to put some distance between Miyavi and myself. I hated to think that I was running, but there really was no other way to put it.

“Gackt-,” he started, moving to follow me.

“Please,” I said softly, leaning back down to speak directly into his ear. “I can’t. One day, you’ll understand. I promise.”

Leaving him completely and utterly confused, I fled.
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To Love A Rock Star