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shards

Shards: American Holiday
Title: American Holiday
Rating: PG for this section.
Warnings: a dreamy sort of angst. Meandering (stream of conscious) thoughts, with Gackt-ish imagery. Also slow, slow relationship progression.
Pairings: GakuHai (Gackt + Hyde).
Disclaimer: As to the authenticity of this created tale, your guess is as good as mine. But for the record, it’s speculation, through and through. Consider this AU from the real world. Furthermore, Gackt and Hyde belong to themselves, as do their friends and family. No monetary gain is accumulated through the writing of this story.
Words: 2791

Summary: Gackt and Hyde arrange a meeting in America on a business trip. Gackt PoV.



Author's Note:
This story is meant as an exploration of feelings between two people when the circumstances are complicated (i.e. Hyde is already married with a little boy).

The plot, more or less, is to see how Hyde and Gackt work through their feelings, not to skip to the romance. :) Mostly, it's an introspective piece that tries to recreate the feeling of how a real romance might unfold between two successful, high profile men when neither of them really knows how to progress a relationship. Emphasis on realism, uneasy feelings and secret longing, rather than outspoken love.

With that said, I hope you enjoy the ride...and the eventual romance, even if it is bittersweet.



Previous Shards: [pressing moments]

American Holiday.

by smilingcrescent.

---

It wasn’t really my fault. If you’d just stop to listen, I’m sure you’d agree.

Perhaps it was carelessness, perhaps not…maybe the story bears no reality at all, despite the-- or because of-- emotions locked within the tale.

Here. Just watch and listen.

I’m standing with my back pressed against my bedroom wall, cell phone pressed to my ear. I wonder if even Hyde can hear my quickly beating heart on the other line. I haven’t felt this awkward in years-- it’s like some young, immature part of myself has resurfaced. I want something to do with my hands-- a phone cord to twist or a charm or a cell-phone strap. I can hardly keep myself from drumming my fingers on my arm, or fingering my sunglasses.

“Hyde,” my voice is low, my posture tight. “…I know. I’ll keep it short.” No love poems or aching, crooning lullabies from these numbed lips.

Hyde breathes evenly on the other side.

What can he be thinking, as I breathe quick and quiet? Instead, I focus on what I intended to speak of. “You...have business here in America, no?” the question is with forced slowness. Soft. Deep. Completely professional, right?

“Nn…” the reply is hardly there, but I can imagine the small man. I can almost see his wandering gaze and rapidly blinking eyes…the same expression he gets when he’s embarrassed, or avoiding a question.

It’s perfectly natural for two acquaintances (friends, perhaps) to meet someplace while on business-- never mind that they meet half the world away in America. It’s quite understandable, you know, for the aforementioned acquaintances to plan to take the same flight over, and stay at the same hotel. It took a great deal of careful organizing to make these arrangements, and more than a few phone calls, but it’s not something I mention to Hyde. And now that we’re in California, it’s much easier to call him up—for no reason at all.

I wonder, then, if Hyde is thinking of his wife. Does he feel guilty at leaving her behind, or relieved to get some time away? I wonder if he’s told Megumi that he’s staying only a few rooms away from me, and if she suspects anything. I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts from my mind. In reality, there is nothing between Hyde and myself-- nothing at all for Megumi to be suspicious of.

“Are you free now?” Hyde surprises me with the question. “Do you want to get a cup of coffee?” His voice is careful and low. “I can’t seem to wake up,” he laughs.

“Ah, I’m free…we only just got here this morning.” I pause before saying, “Even my staff wouldn’t be so cruel to plan overly much on the first day here. Though I have a few things to do later...” I look at the clock glowing on the nightstand then. “It’s exhausting, true.” I admit. “It doesn’t feel like morning. Could you sleep last night?”

“Nah. I slept too much on the plane-ride.” Something clicks on the other line, as though Hyde is tapping something on a table, or counter. “I thought it would be a good idea to arrive in the evening—it should be easy to sleep after a long flight, right? But I wound up sleeping on the plane, and couldn’t sleep last night.” Hyde laughs again.

“A true dilemma.” I agree.

“So. Coffee. Meet me at the café on the corner? The one with the absurdly large cup and saucer above the door.”

“I know the one,” I say. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes, say 9:15.”

I get to the café before Hyde arrives, and take a seat by the window. The table brings old Europe to mind, all wrought iron and glossy wood. The table is distinctly feminine with decorative feet and swirling supports. The effect is surprisingly fragile—not something one expects to find with metal.

Hyde arrives only a few minutes after I do, looking beautiful despite his obvious exhaustion. “Sorry to make you wait,” he says, and joins me at the table. “I couldn’t find my key, and didn’t want to leave without a way back in.” He looks years younger when he grins. The fatigue falls away like so much moonlight.

After an hour of pleasantries, we lapsed into silence…Though I can’t speak for Hyde, I found myself thinking of the past. Of a kiss half-remembered, half-invented. I remember my hands near his, and many long, strange conversations that never felt wrong. I remember that summer fondly, and thought of it extensively yesterday evening.

Carefully positioning my arms behind my back, I clasp my hands together and pull in my arms. The action is meant to pull tension out, and it’s something of a relaxation technique for me. “How’s your coffee?”

“It’s alright…” he looks at the black liquid with a bored expression. “Not quite as bold as I like it, I suppose…”

A grin surprises us both. “I never thought you’d drink black coffee.” Laughter rolls into the silence like so much wind. “I’d have put you for milk, sugar, and then coffee.”

Hyde chuckles with me. “No, when I want tea, I have tea. Coffee’s always black for me.” He flips his hair out of his eyes, and gives me a small but poignant grin. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

I purse my lips together in mock-difficulty as I raise my eyes to the ceiling. The moment stretches and just as it’s about to snap, I reply, “…black. Of course.”

He shakes with amusement, this man called Hyde. He must have been starved for a laugh. “Oh?”

I take a long drink, rolling the taste around my tongue. “…but Hyde.” I offer him a hand, taking him by surprise. “You must never speak of that which I’m about to tell you.”

With a look between amusement and subdued coolness, he takes my hand. “Of course.” His lips hardly twitch.

“Sometimes,” I pause, withholding both breath and noise, “I indulge in a drink called uber mocha.”

Hyde looks at me with a blank expression. Shocked? Or confused?

“Steamed chocolate milk with both white and regular chocolate syrups, topped with the same creamy, mellow shavings of utter sin.” I elaborate, raising an eyebrow.

Surprise rolls Hyde’s eyes back. A bark of laughter escapes before he withdraws his hand in order to poke at me. “Liar!” his small form shakes with laughter once again.

I could watch him like that for an endless age.

As he recovers, Hyde seems to realize he’s gotten something on his fingers-- and between words, he licks and suckles each one. Whether it’s invitation or taunt, he simply smiles around the action as he speaks. “I know you don’t like sweets.” Mischief rules his eyes.

“True,” I allow, a smile of my own curling my lips.

The silence that overcomes us is not unwelcome. Both Hyde and I are accustomed to long stretches without words, and we quietly observe our surroundings, one another and the objects at our hands.

Maybe an hour passed. Maybe only ten minutes. I’m asking a question before I can account for it, saying something that’ll hurt before I even think. “What about your family? How are things going? Really.”

Hyde starts. His eyes dart to me for an instant, before that charming gaze wanders instead to the window. “What do you mean…” each syllable is like its own statement. It seems as though he can’t pick an emotion, however, and his voice is strangely flat for it.

I draw a breath. Let it out slowly. “…I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

Surprise colors his face, and his mouth opens to release a curious tongue. He licks his lips, and looks at me again.

“Don’t be,” he shrugs as he says it, “sorry.”

I’m trying to keep my composure, trying to look every bit the cool, mysterious poet. I nod.

His brow folds with an expression of puzzled curiosity. “But what do you mean?” A smile twists his mouth. “I already--”

“You look tired,” I observe, leaning toward him. I almost touch his face, but something pulls me back. I withdraw my hands.

“…I don’t…” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to think about her right now.”

Blinking rapidly myself, I push up my sunglasses. Fidgeting. “That…wasn’t what I wanted to say.” Are my cheeks red? I don’t know. “You look…sad.”

At this, Hyde laughs. “Sad? Me?” he runs a delicate hand through black hair-- it shines, sometimes, like a pearl does outside of its watery home. “Is that right…” he touches his eyes, ghosting fingers across the softness of his skin, and smoothing the angle of his cheekbone.

I wonder what he feels, with those artist’s hands.

“…maybe it’s the weather…” he offers, half to himself.

I mm in polite agreement, but I must keep my judgment.

He coughs hesitantly. “I’ve been sick a lot, you know…” His eyes meet mine, both of us thinking of his recent hospital stay. “Megumi worries. She doesn’t want our kid getting ill…” his eyes flutter again. This is something important, I can tell. “He’s four, why does she obsess so much? All kids get sick…” Hyde shakes his head in frustration. “Hinata-kun is a good, healthy boy. A lot better than I was.”

I murmur quietly, a noise meant to be sympathetic, and at the same time, to remind Hyde that I am here. That I’m listening. In the quiet of my mind, however, I’m thinking about what he’s said; what does he mean by that last? Was Hyde that sick as a child? I would ask, but he’s not done with the family talk.

“Megumi dotes on Hinata…she’s always making cute foods for him, you know, making breakfast with faces and that sort of thing. She spends time shopping with the kid, and spoils him something awful.” A soft smile pulls on his lips, but it doesn’t quite erase the irritation in his eyes. “Then all the sudden she wants nothing to do with him.” His hands fold in on themselves. “She’ll get him out of the house as quick as anything, or she’ll call the nanny over at odd hours and little notice.” His eyes close, and he runs his finger in small circles over the cup. “How can such a good mother do that?” he reaches up to rub a slender finger into his temple. “I don’t understand her…”

A quick tensing of shoulders and an embarrassed glance in my direction-- just a little above me, actually-- says he’s remembered our situation. A shy half-smile comes over him, much like the face he’d give years past. “Sorry,” he licks his lips, “to bore you with all this…”

Now I cough into my hand, shaking my head. “I don’t mind…”

There’s a moment of silence between us.


We look at one another. Some unknown is poised between us as we seek out the next conversation. Hyde opens his mouth--

--dd dt, dd dt.

We both start at the noise. I reach for my cell, and glance over the screen. “…time to go.”

It’s like waking from a dream.

Hyde coughs gently, some of that blitheness drops out of him, and a more reserved, businesslike countenance overcomes him. “Well, you have to meet with your agent, yes…? And I must…” he tilts his head to the side, looking sweetly puzzled. “What am I doing?” a curtain of hair falls over his face. He swats at it in irritation.

I can’t help but chuckle. “…I wonder…”

Shooting a glare at me, Hyde pulls his own cell, and clicks and scrolls through a complicated list of options. He purses his lips together, undoubtedly having forgotten to set his clock to the right time.

“Ten-forty.”

“…thanks…”

“Well?”

“Ah…I’m paying a call to a jewelry designer of mine…he happens to be in the area.” A look of cool satisfaction smoothes his face. “Well. That’s decided.”

“How are you going to get there?”

Once again, he scowls. This time at the cell phone, which undoubtedly holds no answers. “Where’s Tetsu when I need him?” he complains, a trace of adolescent whining in his voice. He shakes his shoulders out, smoothes his jacket, and cocks his head. “I suppose I could call, and ask for directions.”

I nod, and put my sunglasses on. There’s someone waiting at the hotel with a car to take me to my business. “I’m meeting someone at the hotel. Shall I walk you there?”

Hyde considers this, and slowly shakes his head. “No, I’m going to call a few people first. I’ll take things from here.” He gestures to the coffee. “Thanks for indulging me.” He smiles. “But don’t be late on my account, Ga-chan.”

“Of course.” I nod. “And it was my pleasure. We’ll have to get together again soon. I give a half bow and excuse myself.

The air outside is just starting to heat up.




At the end of the day, I’m still thinking of my fellow musician. I take the taxi one of the assistants called for me, and stare out the window, reflecting on the day’s events.
I can only guess at the ordeal Hyde went through, as I’m sure his English isn’t as good as mine. However he managed, I know it was through quick wit and admirable patience.

For me, those several hours spent meeting with wardrobe, stylists, photographers and agents was a blur of complex speech and surprised expressions. With a wry smile, I was forced to explain again and again when confronted about the unusual lack of assistants, translators, agents, and my memorable bodyguard. “I made them rest,” said I, with just a touch of mystery.

As a result, I think the American companies will never predict my actions. Tragic.

All in all, the staff was amused, if a trifle frustrated. Nevertheless, they managed superbly. And I’ve finally got my wish-- they didn’t listen to the words (I doubt most understood what I said, despite my practice with native speakers). They felt my approach, the images I provided them with, and we managed to surpass the language barrier.


There’s something uniquely charming about a half-mastered language…with Hyde, whose youthful looks suggest childish innocence, I imagine the effect is doubled. I smile at the thought, sure that Hyde would not appreciate the comparison. I reach into my pocket, and pull out my cell phone.

I open and close the device, thinking of my old friend. At last, I give in, and dial the number. “Good evening.” I smile as I enter the taxi. “How was your day?”

There’s silence for only a moment as Hyde contemplates his response. “It was okay…” He must be outside; I can hear the soft rustle of clothes as he walks. I hear the sound the cars on the street make as they rush by. I let the moment pass, looking out my window at the American streets.

“Humbling, isn’t it?” His voice is quiet, rueful. “I realized how much I depend on other people…” he laughs sadly. Never was there a sound so heartbreakingly beautiful. “I wonder, how far I could get…on my own?”

I take a shallow breath. “…mm, Hyde? You could travel the breadth of the moon, and cross into the stars…if only you wanted to.” There’s no reply to this, so I look at the taxi man, briefly, as I consider my question. “What street are you on? I’ll come get you…”

Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. He stops walking, I should say…the sounds around him are suddenly less muffled. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t need help.” His voice is soft, not harsh at all. “Gackt…”

For a moment, I cover the cell-phone with one hand. “Stop, please,” I say in English. “Now.” My voice takes on a severity that’s colored black. I lean back into the seat, and resume the conversation. To Hyde, “…take me to dinner.”

The dry, sharp laugh that comes from him must have surprised even Hyde. “What?”

“Take me to dinner.” My voice rises with confidence.

Amusement creeps into Hyde’s voice. “Take yourself.” He seems less hurt, though. “…I don’t know if there are any restaurants that could suit your eccentric tastes.”

I lean into the window. “Take the challenge, Hyde…” I glance at the mile meter. “Shall I meet you, or do you want to come get me?”

“…hh…” somewhere locked between laughter and disbelief, Hyde takes a moment to reply. “You can come to my street,” he says slowly, and the laughter overcomes all else. “62nd and Broadway.”

My cell clicks as he terminates the conversation. I smile out the window.

It’s going to be an interesting night.

---

...tbc...

Thoughts?

[ Part Two. ]