Anyway, several notes to self, Caelin makes a smashing beta in the limited time alloted her, I need to remember that semicolons do exist, and that I am the Queen of abrupt endings. What can I say. Pressed for time, and I needed it to fit 2000 words limit.
Shall now post. And you shall all know what I do when I am without LJ, without Pieces, without sanity.
It was just a night-out with the boys. I’d just finished a song, after spending several days locked in the relative seclusion of my room, and I was more than ready to let loose and get completely and utterly smashed. Possibly get my hands on a pretty lady and spend a long, wild night of frivolous abandon with said pretty lady. I was primed; I could go for hours.
But of course, this would start out only as a night out with the boys. I was Gackt. All women bow down before me and my trusty Magnum. I’d find someone soon enough on my own time. In any case, there I was, strolling along, pleasantly tipsy after the first two bars we’d looked in on (and partaken of, obviously) when I smacked into a familiar figure.
Familiar because after all, since he and the rest of his band had skyrocketed into something not even my own fame could never really surpass. Even though I had done a damn good job of trying.
In any case, he was wandering the streets alone. So, feeling quite good and relaxed for the first time in a long time, I immediately asked him to join up with us and come along bar-hopping.
I would have been a little hesitant if I had been sober. After all, I didn’t know him, but of the little that I did, I knew Tetsu no Laruku did not smoke. I was a living, breathing ashtray. What if he did not drink either?
But despite his qualms about the cigarette I held in my hand, he agreed quite readily to a night on the town, especially when I offered to buy him a drink.
So that is how it got started. And the conversation somehow spun to a drunken discussion about vocalists and their respective ways of singing. That led to an even more drunken debate about singing techniques (oh yes, we do have such fascinating topics of discussion…) in which I was all for the vibrato (since using it has become a matter of course in my career) and he was arguing something about too much of a good thing (point in thought, I needed to look into that bit of advice, though I usually try not to take advice from someone who giggles drunkenly at the bowl of fruit on one end of the bar—not that I was as well, of course). And, Masa being the wonderful man that he is, backed me up. What ensued was a never-to-be-mentioned again victory dance that I partook in with said bandmate.
And of course, as all conversations go when you’ve several men out together, the topic turned to sex and women. But mostly about sex. Not necessarily with women.
“Still a virgin, two-way split.” admitted one of us (I was at this point busy having relations with my shot glass and got only a fuzzy, blurred image in my already fuzzy and blurred memory of who it actually was… someone with short hair. That could have been any of us.)
Tetsu looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. (I know this for sure because I had put the glass down at this point and had promptly smashed it onto his hand accidentally. One doesn’t forget that split second where he might face an enormous lawsuit for damaging the bassist from a very popular, very influential band. Thank god he shrugged it off and said it was fine.) “’Two-way split’?” he echoed. “Explain?”
“It means our little one has never given, nor has he received…” Kyo replied grinning evilly. “At least… not yet…”
I’d never heard it put that way. What would that make me? My sexual liaisons I kept strictly with women, just because the idea of doing anything more than flirting with other men just… didn’t appeal. Usually. There would always be exceptions to the rule. GacktJOB members usually tended to be those exceptions, though they led to nothing. Never have sex with band members. Rule number #3 of surviving fame and fortune. (The first two are: Never leave home without an extra tube of black eyeliner, and Wear tight leather pants at all times) Would that make me a one-way split?
Would that make me a… gasp… virgin?
Eventually, the topic came up that all of us needed to get home. (This is sometime after we lost Kyo to Dreamland and he’d had to be carted off by Masa—who had, oddly enough, stayed rather sober). This left… me. And Tetsu. Both of us entirely too smashed to tell the front of a car from the back, much less drive it, as the bartender oh-so-kindly pointed out.
Tetsu wordlessly handed him a number before turning back to eye the karaoke bar across the street with an interested eye. “Wantsh to go there…” he slurred, gesturing, nearly toppling over an empty shot glass as he did so.
I looked over the number in question. Of course, I didn’t recognize it.
“Hello?” asked the bartender in a pseudo-bored tone as he watched the two of us sprawled in our respective chairs (and each other, come to that), “Yeah, this a… a…” he glanced down, “a Hideto? Yes? Well listen, you got some friends here who might need your help a little. I don’t think they’re really capable of walking in a straight line, much less drive. Yeah? Yeah… good. All right then.” He hung up. “Your friend’s coming to pick you up. Better not make this a habit,” he reprimanded the both of us as if we were naughty children (and as if he weren’t the one who had sold us alcohol) and went back to clearing up the empty, used glasses littering the bar.
I kind of drifted around like that, amassing my wits for the moment in which I would get to my feet (without assistance, and without immediately tumbling back down) and telling the bartender than I was quite sober and would be on my way.
Then he walked in and ruined my flawless plans for using those damned legs of mine because all I could do was stare.
I’d seen him before, certainly. Who hadn’t? He was a legend amongst J-rockers; up there with Yoshiki and the rest of X-Japan. Certainly not when I was drunk off my ass though.
And definitely, definitely not when I was still horny enough (having not found any suitable woman on our travels to relieve myself with in a nice one-night stand) and uninhibited enough to contemplate begging for sexual favors.
After all, ‘virgin’ was not a word for the Gackt vocabulary. Neither was ‘shame’, but we’d get to that.
In any case, Hyde came in looking as if he’d just fallen out of bed, if one went to bed dressed haphazardly in a white dress shirt (several of the top buttons were missing, which left a very delectable expanse of flesh for one to gaze upon) and tight leather pants. When he saw the both of us however, he burst out laughing.
Especially at Tetsu, because I don’t believe he knew me more than “Oh, yes, he was in… that movie right? Wait, you mean he doesn’t act? But… I could’ve sworn I saw him on TV before… oh you mean he sings? Really…”
“Tet-chan, what happened to you? How often do I come dragging you home after you get smashed?”
Tetsu muttered something suitably scathing (if slurred) before he toppled back over the bar. Hyde grinned over at the bartender, then looked over at me. “I take it you haven’t found yourself a way home either?”
It took me a moment to remember how to nod. Then shake my head. Then nod again. Then stop, confused as to how to answer without forcing myself to use words.
He followed my actions with a half-smile on his face. “Right… I’m getting you out of here… you live…” he frowned, tapping a finger on his lips (I wanted to lick them), “Uh… where do you live?”
I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember.
I plead being distracted by those pants, damn it! That bulge certainly wasn’t Japanese, was it?! I’m sure fan girls would have understood if in my position.
Hyde stared at me for a moment before shrugging and gesturing to the bartender. “Give me a hand.” Leaving the other man to handle Tetsu (ahahahahaha—be silent, I’m drunk, allow me my bad humor), and coming over, dragging me up.
“Come now ‘Gacchan’,” he said, grinning adorably as if trying to be winning should I take the informal address as a slight. “If you can’t tell me an address, I’ll drop you off at a hotel on the way back from Tetsu’s okay?”
Visions of possible naughty scenarios danced in my head. Just think of the things that could happen! I could… or! I could also try to… or even! Hmm…
“You’ll have to work with me a little, Gacchan,” Hyde told me, as he battled to stay upright while still keeping me from toppling to the ground. “One foot in front of the other, you can do it.”
I obeyed. Although the idea of letting gravity take me down and bring him with me was tempting, I don’t think he would’ve appreciated it. Or my advances come to that. How does one make advances to another man?
Flowers? That was always a nice token of interest in a body. Would Hyde appreciate flowers?
…Why would a man want to receive flowers?
…I don’t think candy would work either then, would it?
This is puzzling. I pondered this while I sprawled into the backseat of his car. He drove slowly. I would never take him for one who drove that slowly. Nice backseat though. Really nice backseat. I liked this backseat. Was made for carnal pleasures I could have sworn.
In what amounted to a minute I found to my slight amazement that the car had stopped, Tetsu was missing, and so was a certain Hyde. Blink. When had we stopped? When had they snuck out without my noticing? The cold air was doing me good, I could think a bit straighter now. What was going on? I put weight on my arms so that I could see out through the window. A house. Hyde’s house? Tetsu’s house?
“All right Gacchan, at least one of you is at home safe and sound again,” came the amused voice through the open window. He leaned in, bracing his weight against the bottom of the open window, “Able to tell me where I can drop you off now?”
I could have. I was quite sure I was able to move my mouth.
But he looked very… very… insert look of wordless wonder here. (In any case, moonlight enhances many things. I would need to keep that in mind come next photo shoot.)
But of course, while on this trail of thought (or more correctly, pleasant lack of thought…) I simply sat there, mouth half-open looking like a bleeding idiot. But really, what words of flattery is there to spout to another man?
My, you do look stunning in your dress… pants?
And he wasn’t even wearing dress pants. He was wearing ball-crushing leather pants. Not that I didn’t appreciate. But…
“I take that as a no? So… hotel it is then?”
Mmm… personal compliment then? You smell like… cigarettes?
Why was this usually so much easier with a woman?
Maybe that’s why I wasn’t so keen on giving up easily. Always did love a good challenge.
“Gacchan…” and now the voice was reproachful enough to draw my attention entirely. I mumbled a “Yesh?” (Apparently my vocal chords were more incapacitated than I’d expected.) “You’re still capable of bodily functions. Nod or shake your head. Hotel? Or do you think we can find your house? Because…” he yawned, “I really do need to get some—” a bird shrieked loudly nearby and he paused to look quizzically in that direction.
Some? Some? My alcohol-ridden, horny-as-hell brain exploded with images of such like.
That was it. I was taking that hotel room. And he was coming with me. I was not taking no for an answer, not in this state. And if it should come to that, I will always plead. It takes two to tango.
Now the real question. Can Gackt actually get it up in that condition? ^^ Come now Magnum, don't fail us now!