Gackt and L'Arc~en~Ciel fan fiction writer (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} smilingcrescent) wrote,@ 2007-11-08 18:41:00 |
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Shards: American Holiday (part two)
Rating: PG-15 (for sexualized descriptions…nothing explicit).
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: 4435
Summary: Gackt and Hyde arrange a meeting in America on a business trip. Gackt PoV.
This time: Hyde takes Gackt to a small restaurant.
Archive: [1]
American Holiday
The sun sets.
In the meanwhile, it’s not without laughter that I redirect the taxi. As I lean into the seat, I find myself thinking that Hyde is a man kin to my own soul. I crack the window to feel the cool air. Alone with my thoughts, the ride was exhilarating…fast paced, smooth.
I arrive at full dark. Around me, the tall buildings loom in violet shadows that overtake the street in a disheartening fashion. Hidden among such shade and bent back against a wall, Hyde is little more than a wraith. His pale face reflects the city’s lights-- like the moon-- as he steps out to greet me with his soft-spoken, gentle charm. “Gackt…” he offers his arm. “Shall we go?” Like a ghost, he’s at my side before I can blink.
I nod slowly. “I’m all yours.” He can’t have seen the smile that accompanies the words.
“I asked around…” his shoes on the pavement a quiet clp amidst the night’s symphony of sound. “They told me there’s a good Asian restaurant just around the way… Sounds good, doesn’t it?” His voice is low, full.
In reply, I tug on his sleeve.
He looks at me with no small amount of amusement. “You a kid today?” The light strikes him in such a way that he looks singular, stark and beautiful. It occurs to me that that’s unusual for the time of day.
“Well?” he demands, amused.
There’s nothing wrong with a bit of play, wouldn’t you agree? I smile at Hyde, and reply, “It’s nothing.” A moment’s pause. “Do we need the cab, or are we walking from here?” I ask, and gesture to the stalled vehicle.
“Ah.” Hyde tilts his head and licks his lips. “Won’t it be more fun to walk?” His mouth tilts into a smirk, only to add, “It’s not too far.”
I smile back at Hyde indulgently, and then to the taxi driver. I cross the sidewalk in little time, and after he opens the window, I pay the fare. A feeling of nostalgia overcomes me, but-- impatient for the evening to begin-- I push through the unusual moment. With a smile, and a “thank you sir,” I turn back to my friend.
Hyde is looking around the street, examining the Californian scenery. “It seems like another world.” Hyde says when he sees me watching him. “It’s fall and still so warm...and it was sunny earlier.” Hyde shoves his hands into his pockets, and begins walking down the street. His distinguished character is less noticeable as he steps into the bleaching aura of city lights. Thrilling, superbly defined steps bear him farther from me, and for a moment, I only watch.
Coming back to myself with a chuckle, I lift a hand to swat at my hair. We’re talking about the weather. I steer the conversation away with a quiet comment. “And we don’t have to worry-- too much-- about being sighted here,” I smile at his back.
Turning to look over his shoulder at me, Hyde offers half a smile. “With you, Gackt, I wouldn’t be surprised.” That gentle lilt morphs into a grin.
Well, well. I trace the contour of his face with my eyes as I begin, “you had quite a turnout yourself, a few years back.” I lightly argue, and allow my long legs to overcome the distance between us. I touch his arm, though he is sure not to notice.
“Mmm.”
And we lapse into silence.
Hyde and I walk side by side, myself contemplating the unusual situation I’ve found myself in, and Hyde an illusive mystery. It’s late fall, and I’m walking along with who but the man who’s captured my imagination-- and the both of us are well out of Japan’s limelight.
Perhaps my thoughts make a fool of me, or is this a romantic evening? An intimate walk on the way to enjoy a meal in each other’s company…
…I wonder. Is Hyde playing along with my little game, or is he pulling the strings?
But no, this meeting is just business. We’re having dinner together to strengthen our friendship…nothing more.
“Ah. Was it this corner or the next one,” Hyde muses. “Mmm. What was the name of the street?” Secretly, I smile at his expression-- pursed lips and contemplating demeanor. Long hands brush his hair out of his eyes as he thinks.
I barely manage to keep in my laughter. “Oh, have you gotten us lost, Hyde?” I ask, shaping the phrase to reveal surprised curiosity. The words, they taste of sweetened lemon.
“Jerk. I have not.” Hyde wrinkles his nose and rolls his eyes. “It’s the next street…it’s off, ah, Main Street.” His whole demeanor is that of an affronted child’s, though small smiles lurk in mahogany eyes. Reflected lightly in the starlight, the world spins. Some of the previous mystery lurks in Hyde’s shadow-- but he only smiles on, just as though nothing can touch us. Not even the dark.
A ghost of humor colors my words. “We’re lucky this city has navigable streets, or we may have found ourselves calling that taxi back.” I roll the words around my tongue and breathe deeply the night air.
“True. America’s streets make much more sense than Tokyo’s…I always felt a bit lost.” The words are only there to fill the space, but I wonder if there’s some truth to it. Hyde confronted me, earlier, when we spoke of dependency. Has this artist ever felt at ease?
We lapse into silence again, matching each other's pace. I lift my eyes to the dark sky, looking for a trace of the heavenly bodies that make their home there. “Even the stars seem different…”
Sharp laughter muffles amused, teasing words anew. “Really? Even half the world away from Japan, they're still the same, lover-boy.” Hyde turns his eyes upwards, and his feet stop. “Hmm…the sky is so clear.” We both look up in silence. In the sky’s expanse of inky blue, I can almost feel eternity.
Slowly, I turn my eyes from the tiny pinpricks of light to watch Hyde’s face. There’s an uncertain symmetry in those lines, and a conflicting, beautiful melody lurking behind the surface. His lips part to admit the cool night, and slowly, he blows a kiss of air to the moon. The form of him is lovely as it is superb, like a soft and gentle mountain slope sculpted over with snow. Arched eyebrows, crisp eyes and perfect nose composed celestially in a gently carved face. Would that I could run my fingers across his cheeks…would I know, then, the universe?
I look into his eyes, only to find him looking back.
Hyde meets my gaze for only a moment, before turning away sharply. “Ah…There’s the restaurant…at the end of this block.” He takes a breath and shifts, uneasy, as he moves on. “Shall we go, stargazer?” He takes his hands from his pockets to smoothly massage his temples.
“Let’s go then,” I breathe and start walking to the little restaurant in the distance. At the end of the building hangs a red lantern, barely glowing next to the plethora of electric lights.
“Someone said it’s one of the better restaurants in this part of town,” Hyde is saying, and I wonder if he noticed the lantern at all.
Strange, how our feet seem to slow the closer we get to our destination. Nevertheless, we reach the restaurant in but a few minutes.
I push the painted-red door open, and look around. The restaurant is smaller than I’d have expected. I can see the entire expanse from door to wall…it hardly seems big enough to be a restaurant. Its floor is filled with its share of western-style tables, its walls with frames, even so. Those numerous prints hang alongside a map or two…those prints showing snarling Chinese dragons, a statuette of the Japanese god, Daigoku, and an ink drawing of scenery-- presumably of Malaysia. The character for good fortune, 福, hangs upside down in its place above the registers. I quirk a smile at that; Malaysia must not use the pictographic symbols, eh?
The waitress half smiles at us as we enter. She’s a plump woman, and short of stature by American standards. Neither her dress nor her expression suggests vanity, and she isn’t quick to smile. With a glance at the door, I realize that it’s an hour-and-a-half before closing, for the store. I wonder if she appreciates the business, or if she would prefer a quiet night?
“Two?” she asks. Her English is as accented as mine or Hyde’s. It’s almost a relief. I offer the tiniest of nods to her.
She seats us halfway into the room, away from the cooling windows and closer to the warm kitchen. The table is simple, covered in an economical tablecloth rather than anything ornate. Pushed against the wall, the flower arrangement too is of the practical sort-- a rather unremarkable synthetic bouquet. Soy Sauce and bottled peppers flank the arrangement, and before that is a small device holding four small pots and an equal number of spoons. Presumably, these sauces are intended to accompany our meal. The whole arrangement speaks of sensibility, not of grace. Interesting.
At my side, Hyde, taking great pleasure in controlling the situation, nods. He cocks his head as we make ourselves comfortable, and within moments, a menu is passed from hand to hand.
It is without leaves, this menu. The cover is lined with lunch-specials, I can tell that much after a glance. However, the inside is covered with yet more words-- lengthy descriptions of house recipes. Descriptions I don’t understand. My eyes flicker upwards.
Hyde studies the menu at arms’ length for a moment, as though to absorb it all at once…or to keep it as far from himself as possible. He sticks out his tongue in concentration, and holds it between his lips. Finally, he raises his eyes to say, “Gackt. You’re staring.”
For a moment, I freeze. Nevertheless, I’ve practiced long to get out of this…and in an imitation of the very man before me, I lick my lips and offer a shallow smile. “So I am.”
He flippantly smacks the paper on the table, raising delicately shaped eyebrows. His clever eyes are wide open. “I can’t understand a damn thing.” Laughter infiltrates this dialect-filled sentiment, though his voice is softly elegant even now. “Let’s just order and get it over with, hm?”
With my nod, he hails the waiter with an, “excuse me,” that’s entirely Hyde. The following breaks in his speech don’t flow very well, and I get the feeling our waitress barely understands what Hyde’s saying. Nevertheless, he continues. “I want ginger,” those eyes of his flirt with the ceiling, “tofu, please. And tea.” He seems to be unsure of himself again, and his long fingers dance across the pages to indicate his choice.
Tofu. Quaint, that he’d pick something found in most Asian countries...instead of something particular to Malaysia.
“You want pearl ice tea?” The waitress barely moves her mouth to speak. I observe her reflectively, thinking that most Americans use their lips a bit more... “Or chai? Lemon?”
Hyde cocks his head, considering the question and its meaning. His reply is hesitant once again. “Yes...please.”
When the waitress looks at myself, I momentarily blank on everything I ever learned in English. It takes me a moment to recall the words. “...I want the...ah...” I stare at the menu. There’s a tiny mark to the left of one entry. I pause over it. Spicy? Well, then. “The black pepper....pepper steak. Please.” There’s something about my voice that’s different here, from the waitress and from Hyde. It sounds all right; I’ve got the highs and lows, the flow and the pitch, but people still don’t understand what I say.
As if to confirm my incompetence yet again, the waitress today can’t catch all of it, either. She pokes a finger at the menu, raising an eyebrow. You’d think another non-native speaker would understand better, but no.
Frustrated, I nod.
Hyde smirks at me. “Darling. You do blush, after all...” a small twitch of lips as he relinquishes the menu. With his eyes trained on me, it’s hard to forget that he’s...everything. nothing. not mine.
“What would you like to drink?” she asks slowly, suddenly wary of my displeasure.
I sigh. “Lemon tea.” She scribbles something on her notepad and departs.
After she’s gone, I laugh a little and raise a glass of water to Hyde. “Thanks...for taking me out.”
He reaches over the table to take my hand. Within a moment’s notice, his face is composed. “It was a long day.” His voice is strong, low. “I want this to be a good trip...” Hyde shrugs, and taps his fingers along the edge of the table, suddenly losing interest in the joke. He withdraws his hand, and after a moment, his hands flutter as the waitress returns.
“Pearl ice tea, and lemon tea.” The waitress clips her words and carefully sets the drinks before us.
“Thank you.”
Hyde and I pause awkwardly, waiting for the waitress to retreat. Hyde stirs his drink, giving it a curious look over. He sips it tentatively, and his brows rise in mild astonishment. His whole face alights when he tastes it, like a child at play. “Mm, this is good.” He rolls the softly textured mix across his tongue, pausing at the marvel. “It’s wonderful!” He offers the glass to me, “want a drink?” Another twitch of lips.
“No, thank you,” I smile. “I prefer unsweetened tea.”
“Ah, yes, I remember.” Hyde leans back into his chair, and licks his lips. “You were like that in Taiwan, too…”
I nod. There’s no reason to say anything more-- we’re both caught in the spider web of memories, remembering that summer.
Out of the blue, my friend picks it up again. “Things have changed since then, haven’t they?” Hyde drawls, a note of melancholy in his voice. His lips twitch. “But the weather seems the same.” He smiles, then.
“Things don’t seem so different now…” I argue. “You are just as stunning as always. We’re both still releasing music this year.”
Hyde simply looks at me, doubt marring his countenance. “You’re in a drama, and busier than ever.” Amusement colors his voice as he goes on. “L’Arc hadn’t released anything for a year-and-a-half before releasing four singles and an album. I have a four-year-old at home, and you…you’re…you’ve begun ‘world domination’ since then, Ga-chan.”
I lift my sunglasses to look the other man in the eye. The silence weighs heavily on me. “Things may be different, but one friendship hasn’t changed.”
Hyde covers his mouth, and looks to the ceiling. He’s actually shaking with laughter. “I can’t believe you said that!” he chokes. “Damn, Gackt, you really are a sentimental person.” He chuckles.
I simply raise my glass to Hyde. “Touché.”
The waitress comes back to our table and sets a bowl of steaming soup in front of each of us. I nod my thanks to her, and she offers a reserved smile.
“Ooh, soup. It looks good,” Hyde says, still smiling. He unwraps the silverware and motions for me to do the same. Intent on my companion, I watch him drink the first mouthful. His eyes flutter, and he gives a little sigh. “It’s delicious.” He rolls his head, savoring the taste. “Really spicy,” he adds, and takes another sip.
My eyes don’t stray from the man before me, even as I try the soup. It’s as good as Hyde claimed, but I don’t eat enthusiastically.
“It’s a nice restaurant,” I smile. “Small, but the food is excellent. I can only hope that the main course is as well prepared.” I wish, then, that I could touch his hand.
Hyde nods, and sips his milk-tea. “Uh-huh.” He chews on the tapioca pearl, and then clears his throat. “So, how do you like California?”
I pause before replying. “Mm. The west is an interesting place…everyday seems like an adventure.”
“Oh?” Hyde’s tongue darts between his lips and his eyes drift to the table next to ours. He stirs his soup, and then meets my gaze.
There seems to be nothing noteworthy across the room. I frown. “Hyde, if the topic bores you, why bother asking the question?” I ask.
“Because you always say interesting things.” Mischief lurks in his eyes. “Besides, I’m not bored…we’re just still getting caught up.”
I take a moment to lift the spoon to my lips, letting the spice dance all about my tongue. “My life is not so interesting, these days,” I allow a small smile. “Ah, no, not at all…but, I suppose, there’s always the fast-food fiasco…” I lean back into my chair, observing Hyde with satisfaction. My eyes flicker to his soft features. “But…that story will have to wait for another time.
“Last night, I looked for an age on the pay-per-view channel, seeking out something to fill the long evening...” I allow a smile to quirk my lips, and let him pause to wonder what else I might want. “The only movie that looked interesting, of course, had no subtitles.” I pause, and decide to tell him a little lie. “I spent an amusing two hours creating the ensuing conversations.” A difficult thing to do by oneself, but it sounds good. It is a fine game to play with a friend. “Would you like to join me, sometime?”
Hyde taps his finger on the edge of the bowl. “Making up the script to foreign movies?” His hair slides in front of his eyes, and he shakes it away. “Sounds difficult.”
“It’s great fun,” I assure him. “I did it with You once in China. Pity his battery died towards the end of the movie…”
“Oh, you mean on the phone.” Hyde nods, and takes a bite. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”
We drink in silence for a few minutes, each of us savoring the tastes of Malaysia as marketed by our American hosts. Slowly, I empty my bowl. Each of us absorbing the ‘east’ through the western sphere’s influence.
It is Hyde who brings it up in words, “They can’t seem to choose a country, yeah?” He’s been eating slowly, taking bits of the chips and sprinkling them into his soup for a nice change of texture. But now he replaces all utensils in favor of twining his fingers into a small, steepled temple. He leans into his hands, and waits for me to reply.
I look around once more, noting the scattered collection of cultures on the walls and shelves. “Strange,” I agree, “Our waitress was Asian, was she not?” I murmur, brows knitting together briefly.
Hyde shrugs. “Ah, yes, well, would you bring it up, if your American host had the wrong characters for your name?” He waits, and then adds, “not that they’d even try, but still.”
I stiffen. “I think I’d be offended.” I push the emptied bowl of soup aside.
Hyde shrugs again, and his hands free themselves as he leans back into his chair. “But you wouldn’t say anything,” he insists.
“I suppose...I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand.” I close my eyes, wondering what Hyde expects me to say.
A smile creeps onto his face. “The non-native employees are probably the same. Too polite or too cynical to say a word.” He laughs quietly to himself, and twirls the rack of sauces around.
I smile for him, wondering privately if Hyde is speaking in riddles. Or are his words only as he says, and nothing deeper?
The waitress makes her appearance again, arms full with hot plates. “Here is the Pepper Steak and Ginger Tofu.” We rearrange the plates to give her room, stacking the now-empty bowls and moving our water and other beverages out of harm’s way. Without flourish or much grace, the humble woman sets the food aside
“Thank you,” Hyde tells the woman. His eyes are kind, and his lips curl a little to favor her with a small smile. As she nods and retreats again, he turns more fully towards the table, and the smile widens to show a tiny corner of tongue. He eyes the heaps of tofu on the plate, and the generous portion of rice. Pleasure is apparent in every aspect of his bearing; Hyde takes a moment to absorb the aroma.
Busying myself with the look and feel of Hyde’s aura, I take little notice of my own meal. I merely chuckle at Hyde’s expression and gesture lightly at the plates. “Can you eat all that?”
With something that might be called amusement, Hyde laughs a little, curling in on himself to contain the mirth. “I can handle it.” Hyde assures me. Those lovely eyes of his wander to my own plate, and he smiles again, something soft and warm filling his expression. Shortly after, a teasing smile overtakes his face. “Hm, your steak looks good, too...”
Mm, eyeing my plate already. Despite this, I doubt that Hyde will finish-- no matter how much he ordinarily eats. “Yes…though it’s true...America certainly offers large meals.” I gesture to the table.
“It looks good to me,” Hyde pushes the tofu around with his fork before picking up his knife. Intent on the task at hand, Hyde stretches himself out a little. Even as he critically chooses from the serving, his eyes will occasionally seek out other avenues. My face, or the décor that surrounds us.
Silent, I watch him fuss with the utensils, and then delicately bite into the soft, sauce-covered tofu cube from its precarious position on the fork. I briefly wonder if he’ll ask for chopsticks, but decide he would not. Another challenge for him to face.
“Delicious.” Hyde pronounces. He replaces the utensils on the plate and stirs his tea with the straw. Slowly, enticingly, he leans in to lick the stripped cylinder, gently sucking to fill his mouth with liquid that glistens on his lips. Playful, his eyes are depthless. “But it’s sweet,” he smirks now, and runs his tongue along his mouth, “so you probably won’t like it.”
I do not answer Hyde’s wordless question, instead returning my gaze to the plate before me with a quirk of an eyebrow. Slowly, I carve a portion, ignoring the rice sitting distastefully close to my meal. The steak has been marinated with a dark sauce amidst lightly golden onions-- it smells strongly of black pepper, too. Small portions of green, red and orange pepper decorate the dish. Neatly severing a small piece of meat from the steak, I smile. Leisurely, I receive the morsel...chewing lightly, thoughtfully. It’s full of flavor, this dish, exploding sensuously around my mouth. With this touch of passion milder flavors cannot surpass, my steak excites my mouth and drives my senses.
I pause for effect. “Delicious,” I agree, and look teasingly at my companion. “But spicy.”
Hyde looks at me over his forkful of tofu, bemused. “I wouldn’t like it, hm?” He quips, flipping his hair out of his face as he takes in the scene. “I like spicy food. Ah, no, Gacchan...it’s not just you who likes things hot.”
Amidst quiet throws of laughter, I say nothing. Truly a character, this Hyde.
A moment passes. It dawns on me that Hyde, with no moonlight to lighten his face in soft arcs, seems less likely to fade away in my vision. He seems less of a celestial being and more of an attainable goal, here. Moreover, without the wind to toss his hair, he is calmer in his movements, more playful. I miss-- in that instant-- that heavenly aura.
Dinner continues, but neither of us speaks for several moments more. Each instant that passes reminds me of other nights, other dinners enjoyed with the man before me. We’ve had the pleasure of each other's professional company for so long now...is it even possible for things to change between us?
The thought startles me. I begin to question myself...what is it that I’m looking for? Some deeper friendship? I stare across the table, searching for an answer in my companion.
“You’ve barely touched your meal,” Hyde comments. That mischief creeps back into his voice. “Can I try a bite of your steak?”
“How you manage to eat that much and stay thin, I shall never know,” I smile, and carve out a small piece for Hyde. “Here you are.” I carefully set the morsel on the other’s plate, adding a few onions on second thought. “It really is quite good.” Despite the practical nature of this small restaurant...or perhaps because of it.
“Thanks,” Hyde smiles, and slowly chews. “You know,” Hyde begins, but the buzzing of his cell phone stops him. He reaches into his pocket, and excuses himself. “Megumi,” he explains, and stands up.
“Hello?” he murmurs, and takes the call outside.
I fold my napkin and set my fork and knife on the plate. I close my eyes, reflective. What is it that I’m seeking?
“Are you finished, sir?” As though summoned, the waitress appeared again. Her words surprised me. “You want a box?” Her words are clipped and to the point, though I can tell she is trying to be courteous.
“No, thank you.”
“And your friend?”
Ah, now that is a good question. “He’ll be back soon.” I say, and the waitress nods.
“Okay, okay,” she says, and begins to stack my dishes.
I sit back and wait for Hyde to return, contemplating the curious sequence of events. Life seems to slow as Hyde lingers outside, and I wish halfheartedly that I’d left something on my plate to distract me. That I hadn’t already sent the food away. Impulses, I assure myself, and best left be. There are other games to play, other venues to explore while in America.
I need only wait.
Hyde returns, and as the waitress presses the same question on him, he accepts a box-- for later, he assures me-- and we pick up our things. Business is completed, and we walk outside.
The red lantern glows on a darkened street, though Hyde pays it no mind at all. Behind us, the fluorescent open sign flashes once as Hyde summons a taxi with his cell.
While we wait together, we observe the moon with her quiet melancholy and ethereal beauty. I find myself looking to Hyde once more, recapturing the image that struck me so profoundly on our way here.
Hyde and I say little as we leave the red lantern behind.
The day is done, and there are no more words.
...tbc...
[part 3]
Rating: PG-15 (for sexualized descriptions…nothing explicit).
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: 4435
Summary: Gackt and Hyde arrange a meeting in America on a business trip. Gackt PoV.
This time: Hyde takes Gackt to a small restaurant.
Archive: [1]
by smilingcrescent.
The sun sets.
In the meanwhile, it’s not without laughter that I redirect the taxi. As I lean into the seat, I find myself thinking that Hyde is a man kin to my own soul. I crack the window to feel the cool air. Alone with my thoughts, the ride was exhilarating…fast paced, smooth.
I arrive at full dark. Around me, the tall buildings loom in violet shadows that overtake the street in a disheartening fashion. Hidden among such shade and bent back against a wall, Hyde is little more than a wraith. His pale face reflects the city’s lights-- like the moon-- as he steps out to greet me with his soft-spoken, gentle charm. “Gackt…” he offers his arm. “Shall we go?” Like a ghost, he’s at my side before I can blink.
I nod slowly. “I’m all yours.” He can’t have seen the smile that accompanies the words.
“I asked around…” his shoes on the pavement a quiet clp amidst the night’s symphony of sound. “They told me there’s a good Asian restaurant just around the way… Sounds good, doesn’t it?” His voice is low, full.
In reply, I tug on his sleeve.
He looks at me with no small amount of amusement. “You a kid today?” The light strikes him in such a way that he looks singular, stark and beautiful. It occurs to me that that’s unusual for the time of day.
“Well?” he demands, amused.
There’s nothing wrong with a bit of play, wouldn’t you agree? I smile at Hyde, and reply, “It’s nothing.” A moment’s pause. “Do we need the cab, or are we walking from here?” I ask, and gesture to the stalled vehicle.
“Ah.” Hyde tilts his head and licks his lips. “Won’t it be more fun to walk?” His mouth tilts into a smirk, only to add, “It’s not too far.”
I smile back at Hyde indulgently, and then to the taxi driver. I cross the sidewalk in little time, and after he opens the window, I pay the fare. A feeling of nostalgia overcomes me, but-- impatient for the evening to begin-- I push through the unusual moment. With a smile, and a “thank you sir,” I turn back to my friend.
Hyde is looking around the street, examining the Californian scenery. “It seems like another world.” Hyde says when he sees me watching him. “It’s fall and still so warm...and it was sunny earlier.” Hyde shoves his hands into his pockets, and begins walking down the street. His distinguished character is less noticeable as he steps into the bleaching aura of city lights. Thrilling, superbly defined steps bear him farther from me, and for a moment, I only watch.
Coming back to myself with a chuckle, I lift a hand to swat at my hair. We’re talking about the weather. I steer the conversation away with a quiet comment. “And we don’t have to worry-- too much-- about being sighted here,” I smile at his back.
Turning to look over his shoulder at me, Hyde offers half a smile. “With you, Gackt, I wouldn’t be surprised.” That gentle lilt morphs into a grin.
Well, well. I trace the contour of his face with my eyes as I begin, “you had quite a turnout yourself, a few years back.” I lightly argue, and allow my long legs to overcome the distance between us. I touch his arm, though he is sure not to notice.
“Mmm.”
And we lapse into silence.
Hyde and I walk side by side, myself contemplating the unusual situation I’ve found myself in, and Hyde an illusive mystery. It’s late fall, and I’m walking along with who but the man who’s captured my imagination-- and the both of us are well out of Japan’s limelight.
Perhaps my thoughts make a fool of me, or is this a romantic evening? An intimate walk on the way to enjoy a meal in each other’s company…
…I wonder. Is Hyde playing along with my little game, or is he pulling the strings?
But no, this meeting is just business. We’re having dinner together to strengthen our friendship…nothing more.
“Ah. Was it this corner or the next one,” Hyde muses. “Mmm. What was the name of the street?” Secretly, I smile at his expression-- pursed lips and contemplating demeanor. Long hands brush his hair out of his eyes as he thinks.
I barely manage to keep in my laughter. “Oh, have you gotten us lost, Hyde?” I ask, shaping the phrase to reveal surprised curiosity. The words, they taste of sweetened lemon.
“Jerk. I have not.” Hyde wrinkles his nose and rolls his eyes. “It’s the next street…it’s off, ah, Main Street.” His whole demeanor is that of an affronted child’s, though small smiles lurk in mahogany eyes. Reflected lightly in the starlight, the world spins. Some of the previous mystery lurks in Hyde’s shadow-- but he only smiles on, just as though nothing can touch us. Not even the dark.
A ghost of humor colors my words. “We’re lucky this city has navigable streets, or we may have found ourselves calling that taxi back.” I roll the words around my tongue and breathe deeply the night air.
“True. America’s streets make much more sense than Tokyo’s…I always felt a bit lost.” The words are only there to fill the space, but I wonder if there’s some truth to it. Hyde confronted me, earlier, when we spoke of dependency. Has this artist ever felt at ease?
We lapse into silence again, matching each other's pace. I lift my eyes to the dark sky, looking for a trace of the heavenly bodies that make their home there. “Even the stars seem different…”
Sharp laughter muffles amused, teasing words anew. “Really? Even half the world away from Japan, they're still the same, lover-boy.” Hyde turns his eyes upwards, and his feet stop. “Hmm…the sky is so clear.” We both look up in silence. In the sky’s expanse of inky blue, I can almost feel eternity.
Slowly, I turn my eyes from the tiny pinpricks of light to watch Hyde’s face. There’s an uncertain symmetry in those lines, and a conflicting, beautiful melody lurking behind the surface. His lips part to admit the cool night, and slowly, he blows a kiss of air to the moon. The form of him is lovely as it is superb, like a soft and gentle mountain slope sculpted over with snow. Arched eyebrows, crisp eyes and perfect nose composed celestially in a gently carved face. Would that I could run my fingers across his cheeks…would I know, then, the universe?
I look into his eyes, only to find him looking back.
Hyde meets my gaze for only a moment, before turning away sharply. “Ah…There’s the restaurant…at the end of this block.” He takes a breath and shifts, uneasy, as he moves on. “Shall we go, stargazer?” He takes his hands from his pockets to smoothly massage his temples.
“Let’s go then,” I breathe and start walking to the little restaurant in the distance. At the end of the building hangs a red lantern, barely glowing next to the plethora of electric lights.
“Someone said it’s one of the better restaurants in this part of town,” Hyde is saying, and I wonder if he noticed the lantern at all.
Strange, how our feet seem to slow the closer we get to our destination. Nevertheless, we reach the restaurant in but a few minutes.
I push the painted-red door open, and look around. The restaurant is smaller than I’d have expected. I can see the entire expanse from door to wall…it hardly seems big enough to be a restaurant. Its floor is filled with its share of western-style tables, its walls with frames, even so. Those numerous prints hang alongside a map or two…those prints showing snarling Chinese dragons, a statuette of the Japanese god, Daigoku, and an ink drawing of scenery-- presumably of Malaysia. The character for good fortune, 福, hangs upside down in its place above the registers. I quirk a smile at that; Malaysia must not use the pictographic symbols, eh?
The waitress half smiles at us as we enter. She’s a plump woman, and short of stature by American standards. Neither her dress nor her expression suggests vanity, and she isn’t quick to smile. With a glance at the door, I realize that it’s an hour-and-a-half before closing, for the store. I wonder if she appreciates the business, or if she would prefer a quiet night?
“Two?” she asks. Her English is as accented as mine or Hyde’s. It’s almost a relief. I offer the tiniest of nods to her.
She seats us halfway into the room, away from the cooling windows and closer to the warm kitchen. The table is simple, covered in an economical tablecloth rather than anything ornate. Pushed against the wall, the flower arrangement too is of the practical sort-- a rather unremarkable synthetic bouquet. Soy Sauce and bottled peppers flank the arrangement, and before that is a small device holding four small pots and an equal number of spoons. Presumably, these sauces are intended to accompany our meal. The whole arrangement speaks of sensibility, not of grace. Interesting.
At my side, Hyde, taking great pleasure in controlling the situation, nods. He cocks his head as we make ourselves comfortable, and within moments, a menu is passed from hand to hand.
It is without leaves, this menu. The cover is lined with lunch-specials, I can tell that much after a glance. However, the inside is covered with yet more words-- lengthy descriptions of house recipes. Descriptions I don’t understand. My eyes flicker upwards.
Hyde studies the menu at arms’ length for a moment, as though to absorb it all at once…or to keep it as far from himself as possible. He sticks out his tongue in concentration, and holds it between his lips. Finally, he raises his eyes to say, “Gackt. You’re staring.”
For a moment, I freeze. Nevertheless, I’ve practiced long to get out of this…and in an imitation of the very man before me, I lick my lips and offer a shallow smile. “So I am.”
He flippantly smacks the paper on the table, raising delicately shaped eyebrows. His clever eyes are wide open. “I can’t understand a damn thing.” Laughter infiltrates this dialect-filled sentiment, though his voice is softly elegant even now. “Let’s just order and get it over with, hm?”
With my nod, he hails the waiter with an, “excuse me,” that’s entirely Hyde. The following breaks in his speech don’t flow very well, and I get the feeling our waitress barely understands what Hyde’s saying. Nevertheless, he continues. “I want ginger,” those eyes of his flirt with the ceiling, “tofu, please. And tea.” He seems to be unsure of himself again, and his long fingers dance across the pages to indicate his choice.
Tofu. Quaint, that he’d pick something found in most Asian countries...instead of something particular to Malaysia.
“You want pearl ice tea?” The waitress barely moves her mouth to speak. I observe her reflectively, thinking that most Americans use their lips a bit more... “Or chai? Lemon?”
Hyde cocks his head, considering the question and its meaning. His reply is hesitant once again. “Yes...please.”
When the waitress looks at myself, I momentarily blank on everything I ever learned in English. It takes me a moment to recall the words. “...I want the...ah...” I stare at the menu. There’s a tiny mark to the left of one entry. I pause over it. Spicy? Well, then. “The black pepper....pepper steak. Please.” There’s something about my voice that’s different here, from the waitress and from Hyde. It sounds all right; I’ve got the highs and lows, the flow and the pitch, but people still don’t understand what I say.
As if to confirm my incompetence yet again, the waitress today can’t catch all of it, either. She pokes a finger at the menu, raising an eyebrow. You’d think another non-native speaker would understand better, but no.
Frustrated, I nod.
Hyde smirks at me. “Darling. You do blush, after all...” a small twitch of lips as he relinquishes the menu. With his eyes trained on me, it’s hard to forget that he’s...everything. nothing. not mine.
“What would you like to drink?” she asks slowly, suddenly wary of my displeasure.
I sigh. “Lemon tea.” She scribbles something on her notepad and departs.
After she’s gone, I laugh a little and raise a glass of water to Hyde. “Thanks...for taking me out.”
He reaches over the table to take my hand. Within a moment’s notice, his face is composed. “It was a long day.” His voice is strong, low. “I want this to be a good trip...” Hyde shrugs, and taps his fingers along the edge of the table, suddenly losing interest in the joke. He withdraws his hand, and after a moment, his hands flutter as the waitress returns.
“Pearl ice tea, and lemon tea.” The waitress clips her words and carefully sets the drinks before us.
“Thank you.”
Hyde and I pause awkwardly, waiting for the waitress to retreat. Hyde stirs his drink, giving it a curious look over. He sips it tentatively, and his brows rise in mild astonishment. His whole face alights when he tastes it, like a child at play. “Mm, this is good.” He rolls the softly textured mix across his tongue, pausing at the marvel. “It’s wonderful!” He offers the glass to me, “want a drink?” Another twitch of lips.
“No, thank you,” I smile. “I prefer unsweetened tea.”
“Ah, yes, I remember.” Hyde leans back into his chair, and licks his lips. “You were like that in Taiwan, too…”
I nod. There’s no reason to say anything more-- we’re both caught in the spider web of memories, remembering that summer.
Out of the blue, my friend picks it up again. “Things have changed since then, haven’t they?” Hyde drawls, a note of melancholy in his voice. His lips twitch. “But the weather seems the same.” He smiles, then.
“Things don’t seem so different now…” I argue. “You are just as stunning as always. We’re both still releasing music this year.”
Hyde simply looks at me, doubt marring his countenance. “You’re in a drama, and busier than ever.” Amusement colors his voice as he goes on. “L’Arc hadn’t released anything for a year-and-a-half before releasing four singles and an album. I have a four-year-old at home, and you…you’re…you’ve begun ‘world domination’ since then, Ga-chan.”
I lift my sunglasses to look the other man in the eye. The silence weighs heavily on me. “Things may be different, but one friendship hasn’t changed.”
Hyde covers his mouth, and looks to the ceiling. He’s actually shaking with laughter. “I can’t believe you said that!” he chokes. “Damn, Gackt, you really are a sentimental person.” He chuckles.
I simply raise my glass to Hyde. “Touché.”
The waitress comes back to our table and sets a bowl of steaming soup in front of each of us. I nod my thanks to her, and she offers a reserved smile.
“Ooh, soup. It looks good,” Hyde says, still smiling. He unwraps the silverware and motions for me to do the same. Intent on my companion, I watch him drink the first mouthful. His eyes flutter, and he gives a little sigh. “It’s delicious.” He rolls his head, savoring the taste. “Really spicy,” he adds, and takes another sip.
My eyes don’t stray from the man before me, even as I try the soup. It’s as good as Hyde claimed, but I don’t eat enthusiastically.
“It’s a nice restaurant,” I smile. “Small, but the food is excellent. I can only hope that the main course is as well prepared.” I wish, then, that I could touch his hand.
Hyde nods, and sips his milk-tea. “Uh-huh.” He chews on the tapioca pearl, and then clears his throat. “So, how do you like California?”
I pause before replying. “Mm. The west is an interesting place…everyday seems like an adventure.”
“Oh?” Hyde’s tongue darts between his lips and his eyes drift to the table next to ours. He stirs his soup, and then meets my gaze.
There seems to be nothing noteworthy across the room. I frown. “Hyde, if the topic bores you, why bother asking the question?” I ask.
“Because you always say interesting things.” Mischief lurks in his eyes. “Besides, I’m not bored…we’re just still getting caught up.”
I take a moment to lift the spoon to my lips, letting the spice dance all about my tongue. “My life is not so interesting, these days,” I allow a small smile. “Ah, no, not at all…but, I suppose, there’s always the fast-food fiasco…” I lean back into my chair, observing Hyde with satisfaction. My eyes flicker to his soft features. “But…that story will have to wait for another time.
“Last night, I looked for an age on the pay-per-view channel, seeking out something to fill the long evening...” I allow a smile to quirk my lips, and let him pause to wonder what else I might want. “The only movie that looked interesting, of course, had no subtitles.” I pause, and decide to tell him a little lie. “I spent an amusing two hours creating the ensuing conversations.” A difficult thing to do by oneself, but it sounds good. It is a fine game to play with a friend. “Would you like to join me, sometime?”
Hyde taps his finger on the edge of the bowl. “Making up the script to foreign movies?” His hair slides in front of his eyes, and he shakes it away. “Sounds difficult.”
“It’s great fun,” I assure him. “I did it with You once in China. Pity his battery died towards the end of the movie…”
“Oh, you mean on the phone.” Hyde nods, and takes a bite. “Yeah, that sounds fun.”
We drink in silence for a few minutes, each of us savoring the tastes of Malaysia as marketed by our American hosts. Slowly, I empty my bowl. Each of us absorbing the ‘east’ through the western sphere’s influence.
It is Hyde who brings it up in words, “They can’t seem to choose a country, yeah?” He’s been eating slowly, taking bits of the chips and sprinkling them into his soup for a nice change of texture. But now he replaces all utensils in favor of twining his fingers into a small, steepled temple. He leans into his hands, and waits for me to reply.
I look around once more, noting the scattered collection of cultures on the walls and shelves. “Strange,” I agree, “Our waitress was Asian, was she not?” I murmur, brows knitting together briefly.
Hyde shrugs. “Ah, yes, well, would you bring it up, if your American host had the wrong characters for your name?” He waits, and then adds, “not that they’d even try, but still.”
I stiffen. “I think I’d be offended.” I push the emptied bowl of soup aside.
Hyde shrugs again, and his hands free themselves as he leans back into his chair. “But you wouldn’t say anything,” he insists.
“I suppose...I wouldn’t expect anyone to understand.” I close my eyes, wondering what Hyde expects me to say.
A smile creeps onto his face. “The non-native employees are probably the same. Too polite or too cynical to say a word.” He laughs quietly to himself, and twirls the rack of sauces around.
I smile for him, wondering privately if Hyde is speaking in riddles. Or are his words only as he says, and nothing deeper?
The waitress makes her appearance again, arms full with hot plates. “Here is the Pepper Steak and Ginger Tofu.” We rearrange the plates to give her room, stacking the now-empty bowls and moving our water and other beverages out of harm’s way. Without flourish or much grace, the humble woman sets the food aside
“Thank you,” Hyde tells the woman. His eyes are kind, and his lips curl a little to favor her with a small smile. As she nods and retreats again, he turns more fully towards the table, and the smile widens to show a tiny corner of tongue. He eyes the heaps of tofu on the plate, and the generous portion of rice. Pleasure is apparent in every aspect of his bearing; Hyde takes a moment to absorb the aroma.
Busying myself with the look and feel of Hyde’s aura, I take little notice of my own meal. I merely chuckle at Hyde’s expression and gesture lightly at the plates. “Can you eat all that?”
With something that might be called amusement, Hyde laughs a little, curling in on himself to contain the mirth. “I can handle it.” Hyde assures me. Those lovely eyes of his wander to my own plate, and he smiles again, something soft and warm filling his expression. Shortly after, a teasing smile overtakes his face. “Hm, your steak looks good, too...”
Mm, eyeing my plate already. Despite this, I doubt that Hyde will finish-- no matter how much he ordinarily eats. “Yes…though it’s true...America certainly offers large meals.” I gesture to the table.
“It looks good to me,” Hyde pushes the tofu around with his fork before picking up his knife. Intent on the task at hand, Hyde stretches himself out a little. Even as he critically chooses from the serving, his eyes will occasionally seek out other avenues. My face, or the décor that surrounds us.
Silent, I watch him fuss with the utensils, and then delicately bite into the soft, sauce-covered tofu cube from its precarious position on the fork. I briefly wonder if he’ll ask for chopsticks, but decide he would not. Another challenge for him to face.
“Delicious.” Hyde pronounces. He replaces the utensils on the plate and stirs his tea with the straw. Slowly, enticingly, he leans in to lick the stripped cylinder, gently sucking to fill his mouth with liquid that glistens on his lips. Playful, his eyes are depthless. “But it’s sweet,” he smirks now, and runs his tongue along his mouth, “so you probably won’t like it.”
I do not answer Hyde’s wordless question, instead returning my gaze to the plate before me with a quirk of an eyebrow. Slowly, I carve a portion, ignoring the rice sitting distastefully close to my meal. The steak has been marinated with a dark sauce amidst lightly golden onions-- it smells strongly of black pepper, too. Small portions of green, red and orange pepper decorate the dish. Neatly severing a small piece of meat from the steak, I smile. Leisurely, I receive the morsel...chewing lightly, thoughtfully. It’s full of flavor, this dish, exploding sensuously around my mouth. With this touch of passion milder flavors cannot surpass, my steak excites my mouth and drives my senses.
I pause for effect. “Delicious,” I agree, and look teasingly at my companion. “But spicy.”
Hyde looks at me over his forkful of tofu, bemused. “I wouldn’t like it, hm?” He quips, flipping his hair out of his face as he takes in the scene. “I like spicy food. Ah, no, Gacchan...it’s not just you who likes things hot.”
Amidst quiet throws of laughter, I say nothing. Truly a character, this Hyde.
A moment passes. It dawns on me that Hyde, with no moonlight to lighten his face in soft arcs, seems less likely to fade away in my vision. He seems less of a celestial being and more of an attainable goal, here. Moreover, without the wind to toss his hair, he is calmer in his movements, more playful. I miss-- in that instant-- that heavenly aura.
Dinner continues, but neither of us speaks for several moments more. Each instant that passes reminds me of other nights, other dinners enjoyed with the man before me. We’ve had the pleasure of each other's professional company for so long now...is it even possible for things to change between us?
The thought startles me. I begin to question myself...what is it that I’m looking for? Some deeper friendship? I stare across the table, searching for an answer in my companion.
“You’ve barely touched your meal,” Hyde comments. That mischief creeps back into his voice. “Can I try a bite of your steak?”
“How you manage to eat that much and stay thin, I shall never know,” I smile, and carve out a small piece for Hyde. “Here you are.” I carefully set the morsel on the other’s plate, adding a few onions on second thought. “It really is quite good.” Despite the practical nature of this small restaurant...or perhaps because of it.
“Thanks,” Hyde smiles, and slowly chews. “You know,” Hyde begins, but the buzzing of his cell phone stops him. He reaches into his pocket, and excuses himself. “Megumi,” he explains, and stands up.
“Hello?” he murmurs, and takes the call outside.
I fold my napkin and set my fork and knife on the plate. I close my eyes, reflective. What is it that I’m seeking?
“Are you finished, sir?” As though summoned, the waitress appeared again. Her words surprised me. “You want a box?” Her words are clipped and to the point, though I can tell she is trying to be courteous.
“No, thank you.”
“And your friend?”
Ah, now that is a good question. “He’ll be back soon.” I say, and the waitress nods.
“Okay, okay,” she says, and begins to stack my dishes.
I sit back and wait for Hyde to return, contemplating the curious sequence of events. Life seems to slow as Hyde lingers outside, and I wish halfheartedly that I’d left something on my plate to distract me. That I hadn’t already sent the food away. Impulses, I assure myself, and best left be. There are other games to play, other venues to explore while in America.
I need only wait.
Hyde returns, and as the waitress presses the same question on him, he accepts a box-- for later, he assures me-- and we pick up our things. Business is completed, and we walk outside.
The red lantern glows on a darkened street, though Hyde pays it no mind at all. Behind us, the fluorescent open sign flashes once as Hyde summons a taxi with his cell.
While we wait together, we observe the moon with her quiet melancholy and ethereal beauty. I find myself looking to Hyde once more, recapturing the image that struck me so profoundly on our way here.
Hyde and I say little as we leave the red lantern behind.
The day is done, and there are no more words.
...tbc...
[part 3]
