XXV. Gackt: Unexpected

I don’t have to tell you how much Miyavi’s leaving the studio hurt me. Or how upsetting his strict avoidance of me over the next two weeks became. I think the worst part of the whole thing was that the only person he’d talk to was You, and he was sworn to secrecy. After those two weeks, Miyavi started coming to me again, but few words passed between us. We’d lay in bed after our wild sex, and he’d drift away to someplace in his head that I couldn’t reach him.
As Yoshiki noticed that we spent less and less time together, he became friendlier to both of us, even once and a while getting Miyavi to laugh behind that plastered on smile. Sugizo, in his own fashion, supported both of us, never choosing one over the other in his attempt to remain friends. My own band, between trips to and from Japan every few weeks, were always there within reach.
“Gackt, honey, come on. Stop that.”
Chachamaru stood in my hotel bedroom, his hands on his hips, and his pretty face twisted into a concerned frown. I’d been laying on the bed entertaining thoughts of quitting S.K.I.N. and returning to Japan for over an hour, and I suppose my guitarist had had just about enough of it.
“You tearing yourself apart like this won’t help anything,” Chachamaru continued, holding his ground. “Believe me, if this is the worst thing that ever happens to you, I think you’ll be lucky.”
I didn’t look at Chachamaru, though I’m pretty sure that I’d have seen the playful, hopeful smirk he wore when I got into a depressed funk.
“Besides,” he went on when I refused to respond, “have you noticed that something’s been bothering Yoshiki lately?”
This did pique my interest. I sat up, looking quizzically at my friend. He seemed to take this as a good sign and moved to sit on the bed near me.
“He’s been looking… I’d call it guilty, actually.” Chacha shook his head. “He seems okay when there’s attention on him, but when he thinks no one is looking, he gets this look. Like he’s sad or upset.”
I tried to recall if I’d noticed anything like that lately.
“Maybe you should talk to him.”
Chacha’s sudden inspiration pleased him, so to keep him happy, I obliged his desire. It was more to have something to do, though, than of my concern for our band leader.
Once again, I found myself standing in front of Yoshiki’s palace. Using the access code he’d given us, I let myself in through the ornate gates and walked up to the house. I knocked a few times, but there was no answer. At the side of the house, another, smaller gate led to the backyard. One hand resting on it, my unease grew as I looked through it. Soft piano music filtered from the back of the house.
“Yoshiki? It’s Gackt.”
The gate was unlocked, so I stepped into the yard, closing it softly behind me. Moving quietly, I edged around the house and onto the patio that lined the large swimming pool. The French doors were open, the sheer white curtains being pulled to and fro by the breeze. Catching one of the panels, I stepped into the doorway and looked around.
Yoshiki was at his beautiful grand piano, playing aimlessly. The tune he was creating was a sad one, and I could tell from the set of his shoulders that it was appropriate. He stopped playing, and I could hear the sniffle of a man trying not to cry.
“Yoshi?”
He didn’t turn, he only hunched closer over the keys.
“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
Curious, and a bit confused, I stepped into the house and moved closer.
“What are you talking about?”
“Everything. I’ve ruined it all,” he repeated, raising his head to stare at the ceiling. “You, the band… Miyavi.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I thought, when I first saw him, that Miyavi was beautiful,” Yoshiki said, still not looking at me though I was right next to him by then. “His colors, his smile, his soul; it was all just beautiful. I thought, maybe I could find a way… that maybe I could have that beauty for myself. Oh, I would have loved that. To have Miyavi for myself, you know, to have him love me.” Yoshiki dropped his gaze back to the piano keys. “I guess I didn’t count on you. I thought that if I told you to leave him alone, that if I kept you from pursuing him, maybe I’d have a chance. But I didn’t count on you actually listening to me, and having the whole thing backfire on me.”
I dropped to a crouch on the floor, stunned. So that was it. Yoshiki wasn’t afraid I’d ruin Miyavi’s future as a musician. Yoshiki was afraid I’d ruin his future with Miyavi. So many things started to make sense.
“Gackt, I’m sorry,” Yoshiki said suddenly, finally turning to look at me. “I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I just… wanted a chance.”
“Yoshi,” I began, keeping my voice as level as I could, “do you know what you’ve done? Do you know how much you’ve hurt him? The pain he’s in every time he comes near me, because he’s afraid it will upset the balance of this band? It’s unbearable. Your wheedling and sniveling and lecturing has made him afraid of you… and me.”
Yoshiki closed his eyes, his pain evident in the set of his jaw.
“I know. And I wish I could change it. I’d fix it if I knew how. But I’m afraid of making things worse.”
I moved onto the piano bench next to him, taking one of his hands gently in my own. Any anger I had felt with him vanished, because I understood. My thoughts raced back to Taiwan, and to Hyde, and I understood completely how he felt.
“Yoshi,” I said, “love… the best thing you can do right now is talk to him. Explain. That alone will be the best thing for everyone.”
“I can see why he loves you,” Yoshiki whispered. “I can see why we all love you.”
I cupped his face in my hands and lowered my mouth to his own. In a gentle brushing of our lips, I tried to convey a sense of strength to him. He gripped my arm tightly, silently asking me to deepen our contact. I gave him what he needed in that kiss; support, strength, nerve. When we broke, his eyes were misty, but he seemed to be opening up a little more.
“Should I call us a cab?” I asked, getting to my feet and offering him my hand.
“No,” he said, taking it and rising as well. “We’ll take one of mine.”