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To Love A Rock Star	By : avadedrahetarra Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > S.K.I.N. Views: 1648 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Notes: Pre-S.K.I.N. to somewhere near present time. Shifting POV, if I can manage to keep the Muse alive for this. Then again, _MiyaMuse_ is rather active at times… Oh, and I love playing with timelines I know nothing about. LoL And lots of rumors that I’ve heard get used in this one. Rumor mongering is so much fun, isn’t it? XD

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I. Gackt: First Impressions Suck, Second Impressions Are Best

How I wish I could say that I hated him.
My first impression of his was far from favorable, although it was not a true meeting. More like, it was pure accident. A rare moment of idleness on my behalf at Chachamaru’s apartment, combined with a television with nothing on. And a rerun of a music program.
I saw him and I laughed.
He was loud. And not just in the vocal sense. If I ever thought that Tetsu’s wardrobe was loud, then this boy’s sense of style practically screamed. I thought to call Hyde and make the comparison to him, knowing that my friend would need the laugh, but after the verbal lashing I’d received from his wife the last time I called, I decided against it.
After that initial look, I promptly forgot about him.
I remember the day, though, that I was told I’d be forced to remember him. And never forget him again.
I was sitting in Yoshiki’s palatial Las Angeles home, nursing a glass of wine from his personal stock, and reveling in the glory that was recording my new single.
“I’ve found our second guitarist,” he said, handing me a fresh glass.
I fought to keep my expression indifferent, though my insides were childishly screaming with curiosity.
“Really? Who?”
“He’s young,” Yoshiki said. “Younger than all of us, I mean. But he’s good, damn good. You probably know of him.”
I stared levelly at him, forcing myself not to bite my lip.
“His name is Miyavi-,”
“Wait,” I couldn’t hold the shock in. “You mean that kid who looks like a walking bowl of Fruity Pebbles?”
Yoshiki laughed long and hard at that, fidgeting with his left wrist brace.
“But you have to admit, that bowl of cereal plays the guitar like no one’s business.”
I conceded the point with my silence.
“But don’t think I didn’t see that,” Yoshiki suddenly snapped, his tone turning serious.
“See what?”
“That look. That look you always get when you see a challenge.”
“I-,”
“Don’t even think about it, Gackt. Miyavi’s not like the others. He’s not like your precious family. You can’t, you won’t, seduce him. He’s fought damn hard to get to where he is, just like all the rest of us have. He’s paid his dues. Miyavi’s got a lot of potential; he’s got a great deal of life ahead of him. He’s got it in him to be ranked among the leaders of this business. And I’ll be damned if I sit back and let that get ruined. Not by you, not by anyone.”
I stared at Yoshiki, all pretense of coolness lost in my dropped jaw and widened eyes.
“But,” I tried to speak. “I don’t even like the kid.”
“All the better. See if you can keep it that way.”

Yoshiki made the announcement at JRock Revolution, where he, Miyavi, and Sugizo had all performed. I was not present, but I saw it later on one of my bored perusings of fan sites. I admit to my moments of vanity. But when I saw the clips of Yoshiki announcing Miyavi’s participation, when I heard the fans lose their minds as this colorful, boisterous, loud and obnoxious man was named among us, I must admit that I found myself becoming… interested.
Still, I knew that I had to take Yoshiki seriously. There was too much of my own reputation and career hanging on this creation. I counted every single one of my blessings that Yoshiki had even given this offer to me.
I first and formally met him in Las Angeles a few weeks later. Yoshiki kept giving me warning looks, which I pointedly ignored. I had decided on my own that I’d keep myself distant from Miyavi. Well, as much as was possible given the circumstances of performing together.
Once more sitting in Yoshiki’s house, I suddenly missed my dog. Why I was thinking about Belle at a time like that, I still have yet to figure out, but I was. So much so that I missed the doorbell and Yoshiki’s leaving the room. Sugizo shook me out of my reverie in time to see Yoshiki come back into the room, the colorful boy in tow.
My firm resolve crumbled.
Television does this boy no justice. I could only vaguely remember what I had watched those few months ago, but it paled in comparison to seeing him in person. Tall, slender, delicate, but still with a masculinity that radiated across the room. He looked both proud and terrified, twitching slightly in the doorway.
“Miyavi, come sit down,” Yoshiki said gently, waving to the random pieces of furniture. “I’ll introduce you properly.”
I watched the boy cross the room, his manner forcibly subdued in our presence. He settled into a chair, still fidgeting, and stared at the carpet.
“Miyavi, this is Sugizo,” Yoshiki began, motioning to the lead guitarist at the other end of the couch from me.
Miyavi looked up briefly, muttering out a hello and a few other pleasantries before dropping his eyes back to the floor.
“And this,” he pointed at me, “is Gackt.”
He took longer to look at me, dragging his gaze up as if it were difficult.
“I know who he is,” he said softly, smiling shakily. “I definitely know Gackt.”
Yoshiki laughed.
“I’m sure. Is there anyone who doesn’t?”
I caught and held his gaze, smiling easily at him, hoping to calm him. I reached a hand across the table between us, palm out, in a friendly manner. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it in his own trembling hand.
“It’s good to meet you, Miyavi,” I said. “A pleasure.”
He blushed and relaxed a little as he released my hand and sat back in the chair. Conversation went smoothly from then on. There was no business talk at this initial meeting. No talk of songs or preparations. Just four men getting acquainted and comfortable together.
Miyavi suddenly launched himself to his feet.
“Damn! I completely forgot I have to meet my manager in twenty minutes! He’ll probably murder me if I’m late again. Yoshiki, forgive me, but I have got to run!”
“Go, go,” Yoshiki waved him away, laughing. “We’ll see you next week.”
The boy smiled wildly and launched himself at Yoshiki, hugging him tightly. I could see Yoshiki’s shocked and amused expression as Miyavi flew past me to give Sugizo the same treatment. Seeing this twice gave me a bit more time to prepare myself, so when the blur of color that was Miyavi came at me, I met the hug willingly, earning a laugh from the younger boy.
“I’m a fan,” he whispered hurriedly into my ear, gripping me tightly. “Have been since I was a kid. It’s an honor to work with you.”
With that, he was gone.
I decided to take my leave not long after, wanting to get away and be alone for a while. I was still thinking about my dog. Yoshiki offered to see me out.
In the foyer, just as I was reaching for the door, I felt strong arms grab my jacket and I was slammed back into the door. My head thumped loudly and hard against it, causing my vision to swim briefly so that I was staring at three of Yoshiki.
“Remember what I told you, Gackt,” he said, pushing me harder against the door. “Remember what I said about him.”
For a man shorter and older than I am, he was surprisingly strong.
“I remember, Yoshiki,” I said. “Believe me, I remember.”
“Good.”
He let me go and began massaging his right wrist, having gone without his braces for a while. I straightened my jacket, turned, and left the house.
And I tried to tell myself that I wouldn’t get involved with Miyavi.
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To Love A Rock Star