Want for Nothing
If there was a tightly-wound assumption that it might, it was unspoken, and Hyde pushed it aside whenever he thought about it, which was once, maybe twice. He wasn't, he didn't want to, and Gackt wasn't, and nothing happened.
"Otsukaresama desu," and shooting was a wrap. They went drinking after with a bunch of techies and Leehom swam up out of the crown of tired but ebullient behind-the-scenes faces. Gackt threw an arm around Hyde's shoulder and gave a speech, and everyone cheered, clinked beers and took photos. Gackt let him go at the end without lingering.
In public, Gackt never gave him a moment's rest: you're my type, there's something about you, I wish you were a girl. In private, Gackt was focused on work, on realising crazy ideas like he had the first night that he came to Hyde's door. Gackt was a consummate professional, and the public persona was a carefully crafted brand of not real.
If Hyde was tense, braced for the line to blur, it was only because that was how it happened, wasn't it? He'd spent a lifetime of people mistaking big eyes and a slight build for girlishness. He could still remember the awkwardness of that first time, breathless, "Haido." He hadn't been able to get out of there fast enough. Bolting. Clutching his stomach in the car park behind the live house. He had been a kid, stupid and naive, and he'd never forget the look on Sakura's face, or his own churning panic at having a guy up close like that.
In Taiwan, one night after filming, he and Gackt had shared a bottle of wine on the beach. They hadn't really been alone, since most of the crew were parked around a bonfire only a couple of hundred metres down, but it was dark and they were out of eyeshot. Hyde had sat with his arms loosely thrown around his knees, Gackt had sprawled back on his elbows. It was Gackt who'd said, "You want to go someplace quiet?" He'd said it in front of the crew. Hyde was unsure why he'd agreed. The wine and the slow back and forth of the waves had eroded the usual ways Hyde handled their friendship. He'd thought of Sakura. He'd thought about how badly he wanted to exorcise that memory. Rewrite it. He was older now, he wasn't some dumb kid. He wouldn't freak out. He'd handle it. Calm. Assured. Explain that he wasn't. He didn't want to.
But nothing happened.
In Tokyo, Hyde went out with the band and drank and smoked. Taiwan was Taiwan, Hyde told Tetsu when he asked. Gackt was Gackt. He and the band talked about recording again, kicked around some ideas, and Hyde laughed and waved off the joke that he was going to start starring in a stream of TV dramas, maybe an art film, launch an acting career. He was done with that stuff now.
"How was Taiwan?" said Ken, arriving a half-hour late.
"Yeah, you know." Hyde shrugged a shoulder. He took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled it in a long stream.
"Seen much of Gackt since you got back?"
"Not that much."
He had, though. Gackt was at all the events, his arm draped around Hyde's shoulder any time there were cameras around. They never used to go to the same events. They were different labels, different strata; before Moon Child no one in the industry said Gackt and Hyde in the same breath. Now they were everywhere together. Anytime they stood next to each other it was a photo-op: lights flashed in their eyes. Gackt disengaged himself when the cameras left.
In Taiwan, he and Gackt hadn't been famous the way they were in Japan. They'd been able to walk down the street together and hit hole-in-the-wall restaurants without causing a riot. The only thing that had stood out was Gackt's height and his look-twice looks. In Tokyo, hanging out with Gackt transformed into an inevitable two inches of column space. In Tokyo, hanging out with Gackt paid off.
Hyde saw Gackt two nights later at a party that was mostly promotion for orenji no taiyou, and amid the flashbulbs and the nonsense Gackt put his fingertips on Hyde's shoulder, leaned in a bit. "I miss Taiwan," Gackt said, and Hyde said, "Yeah." It was what they usually said to each other.
They separated, and Hyde's gaze tracked Gackt for a few seconds across the room. Gackt was getting attention, press, lower level VIPs, people drawn by the allure of celebrity. It was the kind of attention Hyde had grown used to over the years. But Gackt's status had a newly-minted feel to it. Gackt was A-list, which he hadn't quite been the night he'd turned up on Hyde's doorstep, talking about how no one else could act the part. Sometime in the last few months Gackt had crossed over from singer to megastar.
Because do a Christmas Special with Ayu and a film with Hyde and you've made it, haven't you Ga-chan?
That wasn't fair; there was a part of Gackt that was utterly genuine.
There was a part of Gackt that was good at exactly this.
"Getting some air," said Hyde, and went out onto the upper deck. For a beau monde address in Aoyama, it had a pretty crappy view of the back end of Roppongi. He could see the overpass, and hear the rattle of the last of the trains pulling out of the station for the night. He leaned his forearms on the railing.
Close friends call me Ga-chan, Gackt had said. He'd said it in a soft, intimate voice with a kick of inflection, Gacchan, that Hyde faithfully reproduced during interviews, which was its own shorthand when everyone else was calling him Gakuto-san.
He lit up a cigarette. After a couple of minutes, he heard someone come out to join him, winding his way around the occasional piece of plastic furniture.
It was Gackt. He didn't say anything, just slotted himself into place next to Hyde. Inside, the minglers had to be aware that the two guest celebs had ditched their own party and were alone together. Gackt didn't seem like he knew that, but of course he did.
When Hyde turned to look at him, Gackt's eyes were screened by the Gucci shades he'd worn in the movie, so it was just his profile, the styled fall of his hair over his forehead, his full lips, the platinum gleam of his stalactitic earring. Gackt shifted against the railing to look back at him.
"You found me," Hyde heard himself say.
Gackt said, "Everyone's expecting us inside."
"So we should probably head back," said Hyde.
Gackt pushed off the railing, the equivalent of a nod. Hyde felt the corner of his mouth twist. He let his eyes return to the view as though testing its quality; a few more hours of night, and then morning. Gackt hesitated after a couple of steps, turning back.
"What are you waiting for?" said Gackt.
Hyde flicked his cigarette out over the railing, watched it spark as it arced into the darkness, and turned to follow Gackt inside. "Nothing."