Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Legacy	By : hayri2011 Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > X Japan Views: 1431 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't know Yoshiki or Hide. I only own the original characters. The events in this story are not true and never happened. This fictional story is soley for entertainment purposes and I make no profit off this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
I'm glad that Yoshiki's house is so unnecessarily huge. It lets me be alone and allows me to wander aimlessly day and night, lost in my own thoughts. I have no idea what day it is. How long have I been walking back and forth through the empty rooms and halls like a lost spirit? Not that I'm ungrateful. After it happened, Yoshiki was kind enough to take me in and take care of me, as well as he could in his current situation. If he hadn't, I'd probably be dead too.
I used to laugh at Romeo and Juliet. How pathetic, that they died for each other. No one was worth dying for. What a ridiculous idea. But now I know. It's not ridiculous at all. Death now would be sweet. And maybe I'd get to see him again.
It's too quiet. If he were here, the house wouldn't be so still. It would be full of laughter and music, and crashing as he knocked things over in his clumsiness. If he were here, he'd scoop me up in his arms, tell me to stop being so emo, and kiss every inch of my skin he could reach until I smiled for him. But I would never be held in his arms again. Never be kissed by his lips. And smiling was something I could never do again.
*********
Giggling, we stumbled through the door at some ungodly hour. Toeing off his shoes, he pulled me over to the bed. I bounced slightly as I landed on the soft mattress. He immediately attacked my lips with his, pushing me down so I was lying across the blankets.
“At least let me take my shoes off,” I said breathlessly. His kisses, even his drunken ones, always left me gasping for air.
“It'd be sexier if you wore them. And ONLY them,” he said, smirking.
I laughed and pushed him off of me. “You stink like sake, Hide.”
“So do you.” Though he had pulled back when I had shoved him off me, he quickly resumed his former position of straddling me on the bed. I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, not because I was resisting, but because he liked it when I did that. His kisses became harder and more urgent as he pressed me harder into the bed, exactly the reaction I wanted.
In our passion, our clothes were quickly removed, and I was stroked from head to toe by talented hands, fingers calloused from countless hours of flowing across guitar strings. My exclamations of pleasure soon drove him over the edge, and he couldn't hold back anymore.
A while later, I settled into his arms, nuzzling and kissing his bare chest. He sighed contentedly, stroking my long blond hair that he couldn't get enough of.
“I'm going to marry you someday,” he murmured sleepily.
“Don't say things you don't mean,” I answered.
“No, I'm serious.”
“No, you're drunk.”
“Amanda.” He took my chin in his hands and lifted my head so I could look at him. “I really mean it. I love you. More than anything.”
“More than rock-and-roll?” I asked, teasing.
“Yes. If it was the only way I could have you, I'd even throw away all my guitars.”
I stared at him, shocked. His music was his life. There's no way he was serious. I looked into his eyes, searching for a sign that he was joking. He stared back at me, his eyes soft with affection, but clear. My God. He was serious. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Really?”
“Really.” He kissed me gently on the lips. “I want you by my side forever.”
The next day, he was dead.
***************
Dammit, I told myself I wouldn't cry. I touch my cheek, slightly surprised. It seems impossible that I have any tears left. Wonders never cease, I guess.
I hear a shuffling and look up, wiping my eyes quickly. Yoshiki appears around the corner, holding a plate with a sandwich.
“There you are,” he says. He holds up the plate. “You should eat something.”
I glanced out of a nearby window. “What time is it?” My voice was hoarse from disuse.
“It's around 10 or so.” Yoshiki walks over to me and places his hand gently on my shoulder. “When's the last time you ate? I haven't seen you in a couple days.”
Of course he hadn't. Yoshiki spent most of his time locked in his room, blasting Hide's songs constantly. That's the main reason I wouldn't go downstairs anymore.
Yoshiki holds out the plate again, but I shake my head. “I'm not hungry.”
“You need to eat,” he says softly. Under normal circumstances, Yoshiki would be screaming at me for being so stupid, impatient with the moping girl haunting his house. But he mourned as well, and so he was either more patient, or just dwelling too deep in his sorrow to care. Even when I had burned all of his towels, he didn't even bat an eye, but just held me until the tears had stopped.
“Just a little bit,” he coaxes. “I don't want you to get sick.”
Nausea wells up within me at the thought of food. Then I realize it's not just nausea. Pushing past Yoshiki, I run to the bathroom and vomit, though there isn't anything in my stomach to throw up.
Yoshiki comes up behind me as I finish and flush the toilet. “How long has this been going on?”
So he knew. He knew that I'd been puking on and off, even without eating. “About a week or so,” I answer.
Yoshiki reaches over and places his hand on my forehead. “You're really pale,” he says. “I think you should go to the doctor. It would be horrible if you got really sick.”
I scoff. “I don't care.”
“But I do.” He bows his head. I know that his eyes are filling with tears. “I don't want to lose you, too.”
Tears fill my eyes. He is right. We're all that each other has now. I walk over to him and hug him, burying my face into his shoulder.
“Okay,” I whisper, my voice wavering. “I'll go. For you, Yoshiki.”
************
I sit on the examining table, waiting for the doctor. I'd just been through about an hour of tests, and was impatient to go home. This had been the longest I'd been out of the house since I had scattered my lover's ashes into the Pacific Ocean.
A knock sounds on the door, and the doctor walks in. “Hello, Miss Donivin,” he says, smiling.
I just stare at him.
The doctor clears his throat and glances at his chart quickly. “Well, I have some news. At first, we weren't sure what was causing the vomiting, whether it was because of grief and stress from your recent...trauma...” he clears his throat again, “or something more serious. However, I'm pretty sure we've found the answer.”
I continue to stare, wishing he'd get on with it.
“Miss Donivin, you're pregnant.”
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Legacy