the scars don't fade

bloodied_quill @ 2007-03-15T15:13:00

2007-03-15T20:01:07Z

Title: I'll sing without you
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: drama
Rating: PG
Date: February-March, 2007
Pairing: sakura x hyde
Word count: 489
POV: First person (hyde)

Author's Note: "THE GHOST IN MY ROOM" is the b-side of "niji", L'Arc's first single after Sakura left the band. The fic title is a line from X JAPAN's song "Longing".

What does the lover of every musician ask?
Will you write a song for me, Baby?

You asked that of me sometimes. You’d come up to me casually, your arms around my shoulders warm, protective more than possessive, your smile and tone challenging me to guess if you were serious or playing. I couldn’t tell which; I’d only laugh nervously, changing my answers every time to see if you’d ever change the question.
I don’t write things that are so personal.
I could never put such things into words. Call me selfish; I don’t want to share.
It would never be as beautiful as you are, Darling.

But your question never failed, though your responses were as variable as mine. A ruffle of my hair, whether it was short or long; a pinch of my waist through thick clothes, thin clothes, no clothes; the faintest hints of a blush behind a laughing smile; pouts and protests; imitations of childish pleading; the most convincing casual indifference—I wouldn’t say yes, and you wouldn’t hear no.

I must have driven you crazy some nights, keeping you up late, testing out new tunes and new lyrics on you. You never complained, though; even when my late-night songwriting sessions deprived you of sleep, in the morning you smiled at me bleary-eyed over the kitchen table and a cup of coffee and you offered the kindest of compliments. And even when I started learning to know your lies from your truths, I knew you were genuine in your admiration.

It was the nights when you didn’t come, when you forgot our plans, when you forgot I even existed, when you weren’t there to ask me to write a song for you, that I put pen to paper and let the ink spill, the pen weeping where I could not. I wrote about you, me, us, the things I saw in you that kept me waiting up at night even though I knew that, if you came at all, I’d wish I hadn’t been awake to see your arrival. And in the morning, you’d try to smile and tell me it’d be different the next time. And the next time, I’d tear up those pages and try again.

It wasn’t until you stopped coming that I stopped destroying my pitiful attempts to capture you in words. What else could I have held you with? Not with my arms, not with my emotions, not with satin sheets and blackout curtains. Your presence filled the pages where it used to fill the space beside me; I drank from your coffee cup as I chased the traces you’d left behind.

You became the phantom that whispered in my dreams, whispered in my waking, had me spinning in circles dizzier and dizzier but unwilling to stop the ride.

Will you write a song for me, Baby?

I will sing it for you, Darling; for the ghost in my room.

bloodied_quill @ 2007-01-30T22:13:00

2007-01-31T03:14:04Z

Title: Genesis
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: [to be determined]
Rating: PG
Date: Jan 30, 2007
Pairing: sakura x hyde
Word count: 342
POV: First person (sakura)

I think in clichés, almost disbelieving my own senses.

August sunlight defies closed blinds, streaking, shifting across the mats. It’d be artistic, beautiful, if I cared.

I’d admit myself taken, if that would suffice, but the words of my own, the words of lyrics, the words of literature fall weakly and fail before they reach my tongue, and I have nothing to offer but my silence.

It only matters to me, all the same.

The figure of a woman cuts shadows into the light, long hair, long skirt billowing as what I could mistake for an illusion spins, sways, retreats and returns, shying away from the touch I’m not even extending. Stories of myth replace my sense of reality, and I wonder if I stopped watching, if she’d even be there. Images divorced from the possibilities suggest a goddess, a nymph, a succubus, a spirit, even an angel. Her bare feet, in my eyes, barely touch the floor.

If I thought it possible, I’d feel desire.

But as the image before me dances, it begins to sing, a resonating tenor slamming my ears, shadowing my fantasies in heavy shades of grey, leaving me in greater dark than the unlit mat beneath the swaying silhouette. I watch the Adam’s apple bobbing in that delicate throat, a point to focus on, a point to distract from the soft curls, soft eyes, soft draping fabric that would tempt me if I’d let it…that tempts me though I won’t.

His arms rising above his head, his motions remind me of a snake—the tempter, offering a forbidden fruit of impure knowledge; one bite and I’ll never rid myself of the flavor. And I know all too starkly that the woman I can’t stop watching is a fiction, a construction founded on my willingness to believe, the lead character artfully constructed by the cleverest of male artists, an actor, an imposter.

I close the curtains, I implore silence, I tell myself I do not believe.
Arms wind around my waist, and I am no stronger than Eve.

bloodied_quill @ 2006-09-18T14:07:00

2006-09-18T18:08:14Z

Title: Purification
Category: Poetry / visual art
Date: September 18, 2006

           O W                     F L                       O W                     F L
      L            F           W           O           L              F          W          O
F                       L O                      W F                       L O                   W       T
                                                                                                                     R
                                                                                                                        I
                                                                                                                     C
                                                                                                                   K
                                                                                                                      L
                                                                                                                    E

W    A            s                h                     A                        W                            a                                y

everything that

                         O

                      H     O
       R                                   U
                         N

R          S       I           D          L       N

                      B     S
       U                                   D
                         D

                   S           S

a         / S
             H /
                 / A
                 T /
                     / T
                     E /
                         / R
                           I /
                              / N
                              G /         cosmos

bloodied_quill @ 2006-09-15T15:37:00

2006-09-15T19:38:01Z

Title: Perpetual Motion Machine
Category: Poetry / visual art
Date: July 21, 2006

It’s just a little

CRA  CK

Where the

r
a
i
n

gets in

and

s   w      e         e            p               s

away

all the sAnItY you’ve ever known

this time, let me

d
    o
        w
            n

easy...

bloodied_quill @ 2006-09-15T15:29:00

2006-09-15T19:30:23Z

Title: Rewind
Category: Poetry / visual art
Date: September 15, 2006

                                        N
                                                          S
                                E
                                                   L
                        K
                                           E
                A
                                   E
        W
                           P
A

   d-n-i-w-e-r
taeper|repeat

F                                             I
                       S
              E                 A
                      L O
                      S E
              R                 C
                       H
N                                            D

             *
       e          t
    p                u
r                       a
    e                 l
        p        y
             *

                          ucenrtaien

bloodied_quill @ 2006-07-31T18:33:00

2006-07-31T22:46:00Z

Title: Delilah
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: songfic; reflective
Rating: PG
Date: July 31, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #42 - Song
Pairing: hyde and tetsu (sub - hyde and Megumi)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: This is a songfic. It's not the most Megumi-friendly fic in the world, though it doesn't attack her.
POV: First person (tetsu)

Songfic
Song title: Hallelujah
Artist: Rufus Wainwright

I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?

It was something that always surprised me about you. You listened to music, sure, but hardly ever. As years went by, you listened to it less and less. Even though you threw yourself heart and soul into your own. But it wasn’t that you only liked your own, at least I never believed that—you weren’t quite that arrogant. You just didn’t seem to find the time. Or maybe it was distracting.

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, the major lift, the baffled king composing Hallelujah

I always wondered why, but you never gave me an answer. You never gave many answers at all. You held the air of a mysterious artist, even with me. But I never held it against you. I don’t think you ever had all the answers to give in the first place.

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

No matter how hard it might have been to understand you, it was never hard to find you magnetic. You called your fans “hydeists” as though you were a deity, and you played to that image every step of the way. And they were happy to follow. But it wasn’t just your fans. You had a draw. And I still don’t know what it was. But you had one. And you pulled me in, too, and I was willing. I was enthralled. I came to feel it was exactly what I wanted. And I was so happy.

Your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof, her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you

You said you didn’t believe in love. Even when we’d been so close for so many years, you still said you didn’t believe in love. But you did. You just hadn’t found it. And it was so obvious when you did—you found a fascination in someone you’d never met in a way you couldn’t find fascination in me. You didn’t even try to hide it. And I didn’t try to stop you. I never stood a chance.

She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

You changed so fast I don’t think even you could quite believe it. Before you knew it, you and your music weren’t the center of your own world—she was, your son was. Even if she couldn’t take away your vices, she changed you. And you loved her for that as much as anything else.

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

And you were happier than anyone had ever seen you. You were happier than you thought you could be. And you might have been surprised, but that changed nothing.

Maybe I have been here before, I know this room; I have walked this floor, I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch, love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah

Isn’t it such a common cliché to say that history repeats itself? You lived up to it, didn’t you? We retraced steps we knew too well, remembered too well. I never understood why love wasn’t enough for you. But I didn’t question. You came to me, never the other way. And somehow we made each other happy. But I realize when I look back that we were just addicts chasing a high that would never be the same again.

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

But it was what we settled for, because we couldn’t find anything better.

There was a time you let me know what’s really going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you?
Remember when I moved in you; the holy dark was moving too, and every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Even though you always liked to keep people guessing, there was a time when you told me so much I could almost complete the puzzle. But that fell away even before you found what you thought you were looking for. And even when pieces of the past resurfaced, that was never one of them. Even as we put it back together, we fell further apart. And somehow we didn’t notice. We thought we were doing what was best, or at least better. With every word passed between us, we affirmed our conviction that what was wrong wasn’t really wrong.

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Perhaps we thought we’d raised Atlantis.

Maybe there's a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And its not a cry you can hear at night, its not somebody who's seen the light, its a cold and its a broken Hallelujah

Perhaps we knew that wasn’t true. We didn’t deserve it, anyway. We weren’t supposed to be happy. When I’d lost my place in your affections, I regained it, but I didn’t fit there anymore. It was an empty victory in a battle I’d hardly raised a finger to fight, and still the damage was etched in every moment.

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Even still you want it this way. On the good days, you smile and pull me close, and you tell me that things will never change. As though they never changed in the first place. On the bad days, you just want it all to stop, to rewind and change it all. On the days in between, I find the happiness I saw written in your smile and reflected in my own looking older and more tired every day, fading even faster than we are.

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

personal favorite

2006-07-20T14:01:08Z

Title: Sensory
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: emotional/romantic; bittersweet
Rating: PG-13
Date: June 20, 2006

Written for 30_kisses
Theme: 11 - Gardenia
Pairing: hyde and Megumi (L'Arc~en~Ciel)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. hyde and Megumi are real people, and really married. This story is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission. As a work of fiction, this piece does not express the views or life of the artists portrayed within and no harm to them is intended.
Word Count: 613
POV: third person
Summary: Some things fade, and some are never forgotten.

Taste—the lingering hint of scrambled eggs seasoned with too much pepper. Sight—her unblushing smile as he walked into the bathroom without knocking, without thinking. Sound—her laugh when he muttered an apology even as he smiled back. Touch—the soft, damp smoothness of her manicured and moisturized hand brushing along his unshaven cheek.
These memories have faded away with the others, flowing down the metaphorical drain like so much bathwater.

Even now he’s never forgotten the smell.

The scent of gardenias filled the small, tiled room, hanging so thickly it could have been the scent that fogged the mirror rather than the steam. It was her shampoo; he realized that as he pulled her unclothed body against his smaller frame, holding her gently and burying his face against the untanned skin of her slim shoulder. He pressed gentle kisses onto the damp strands of her perfumed hair and told her, for the first but not the last time that morning, how beautiful she was. She laughed, the second time in just a minute, and the light sound pleased him. She always laughed that way when he said nice things; it was her way of showing him that she appreciated those words.

Her laughter no longer plays in his head when he tries to remember. She doesn’t laugh much these days, at least not around him, but he probably wouldn’t be able to hear it even if she did. He might even be truly deaf now; she has no way of asking because he no longer speaks. He offers her confused smiles every so often, and she smiles back, caressing his hair the way he used to touch hers. He seems to enjoy it, and it comforts her to be able to do at least that for him.

It wasn’t perfect. Sometimes it wasn’t even good, but they’d come through. And she wondered, questioned, almost screamed sometimes wanting to know why after all the passion and apathy, the compromise and the resolution, it had had to come to this. And she felt a connection to his quietly agonized lyrics she hadn’t understood then. It wasn’t fair. And she no longer felt sure if it was a blessing or a curse that he didn’t even know that anymore.

He hadn’t forgotten the smell.

She brought him gardenias, the white, fragile petals bearing a stark resemblance to the frail man she’d chosen them for. For a moment, his face lit with a clarity he’d lost what sometimes seemed to her to be ages ago. He reached his bony, callused hands towards the delicate flowers and her own hands trembled as she plucked one from the vase so he could hold it. And he smiled. Really smiled, she’d say later, her eyes full of tears both joyous and crushed. She wouldn’t notice that the doctor’s smile as she said it was patronizing, that he and the nurse exchanged a we-doubt-it glance once she had looked away. He smiled. At the flowers, first, and then at her—his lips moved without a sound, but he didn’t seem to notice and she knew that he had tried.

He knew that smell.

He seemed to know, in some way, that that scent and the woman beside him were somehow one and the same. He pressed the flower to his lips in the memory of a kiss; he turned his head to brush the dry, almost cracked flesh over her fingertips as they traced his cheek. And then she lost him to the same world he’d so briefly been pulled out of, and he no longer seemed to know she was there.

He hadn’t forgotten the scent of gardenia.

bloodied_quill @ 2006-07-20T03:43:00

2006-07-20T07:47:54Z

Title: Lies
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: dark
Rating: PG
Date: July 19, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #16 - Denial
Claimed Pairing: tetsu and hyde of L’Arc~en~Ciel
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Word count: 329
POV: second person (tetsu to hyde)
Summary: He's dead, that much can be accepted. But how it happened--they're lying.

Warning: Character death

I didn’t cry when I saw you. I promised myself I’d be strong, for you, for your family. I didn’t cry when I went home that night, either. I wanted to be strong for me. It hurt, but I wouldn’t let out that pain.

But when your newly-widowed wife held out the death certificate, her hands shaking, I read it, and I cried, not even for you but for anger, rage, that they’d dared to write “suicide” as the cause of death. And she believed it. And they were wrong.

I know they were wrong, wrong about the person you’d become. It was an accident. I know it. You were drunk, well past coordination, and maybe you were sleepless, maybe your head hurt, maybe you were really going for aspirin but you grabbed the sleeping pills everyone told you you shouldn’t take anyway, and you took too many. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t. I know you better than that.

And no one believes me. No one wants to listen. Tetsuya’s in denial; he didn’t see it coming and he feels guilty. I do listen; I hear it when they say things like that. I just want to hit them, but I won’t. It would be disgraceful, disrespectful.

I won’t disgrace you. I didn’t go to pieces at your funeral. You’d have been surprised if you’d seen that, but I think you would have been proud.

I finally cried for you yesterday, now that I know that’s okay. It was the same day, all these years later, as when I met you. And I know it’s a strange day to choose, but I think you would understand. You always understood, better than most, and you let me understand you. And I understood how strong you were, even when things went wrong, even when you slipped a little. Because you never fell. And the lies they wrote about you, the lies they took for truth, they’ll never pull you down.

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-07-01T06:10:00

2006-07-01T13:11:18Z

Title: Name
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: dialogue
Rating: PG-13
Date: June 27, 2006
Pairing: Gackt and hyde
Word Count: 350

“Gackt…”
“Mm?”
“Gackt.”
“Nnnn!”
“Gackt!”
“Wha?”
“Gacchan, don’t fall asleep on me; it’s not even midnight!”
“Mhm…”
“Gackt!”
“Ow! Okay, okay; I’m not ticklish and that hurt.”
“Sorry.”
“You are not.”
“Nope.”
“Brat.”
“Thanks.”
“What is it?”
“You’re not being very nice.”
“hyde…”
“Gackt.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s your real name?”
“You just said it, hm? Do you have amnesia and already forgot you said it? Should I be worried?”
“Gackt, don’t tease!”
“I’m not teasing.”
“Camui, I know that’s not your real name.”
“No? It has letters, doesn’t it? You know how to say it. It’s just as real as anything else.”
“It’s not your real name any more than hyde is mine!”
“hyde is a real name, too, you know. Letters, a sound…”
“You’re just being difficult.”
“Am not.”
“Don’t laugh; you hurt my feelings.”
“But it’s so fun to watch you sulk.”
“Shh.”
“hyde…”
“Not talking to you anymore.”
“Don’t pout like a child”
“Don’t think that snuggling that way is going to make me forgive you.”
“You’re acting like a girl…ow you have sharp elbows!”
“I warned you.”
“No, you didn’t, and you’re not even mad at me.”
“Aw, come on, don’t move away, you’re comfy…”
“Like a girl…”
“Shh. Comfy.”
“And pillows don’t talk?”
“Not usually.”
“So do you want to know my given name?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“What if I don’t want to tell?”
“It’s okay.”
“Then what’d you elbow me for!?”
“Being mean; you’re funny when you’re confused.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yoy love me.”
“You’re still crazy.”
“I don’t need to know your real name, anyway.”
“You do know…”
“Your given name, then, Picky! It makes you mysterious.”
“You’re really crazy.”
“It’s hot.”
“That’s beside the point.”
“Nah.”
“Wasn’t I sleeping?”
“You argue a lot for a sleeping person.”
“You woke me up, remember?”
“Nope! Maybe I do have amnesia.”
“Does this help you remember?”
“Ah—yes. But I don’t think you minded.”
“Not if you’re going to give me a good reason.”
“Goodnight, Gacchan!”
“Just like a woman.”
“I was kidding you know.”
“Goodnight, hyde.”
“But!”
“But?”
“Gackt!”
“Train of thought escape you?”
“Mhm…”
“Good.”

bloodied_quill @ 2006-06-11T02:56:00

2006-06-11T06:59:44Z

Title: ROUND 'n' ROUND
Category: Poetry / visual art
Date: June 11, 2006

S
  L
    I
      D
        E

on

D
O
W
N

               R

        O          ’n’

    U                   D

N                          N

   D                     U

        ’n’           O

               R

My stomach has

    T O
   E S N K
    D I
     W
---> T

bloodied_quill @ 2006-06-02T23:34:00

2006-06-03T03:37:07Z

Title: Sway
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: drabble
Rating: G
Date: June 2, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #40 - sickness
Pairing: hyde and tetsu
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: I don't really like drabble, but we all have to write one at some point.
POV: First person (tetsu)
Word Count: 140

“Dance with me…”
The soft whine in his voice was gently insistent—a request, not a demand, and unspoken volumes showed I’d never say no.
“Can you stand?” As he struggled to sit up, I had my answer before it was given.
“If you help me…”
I picked him up gently, holding his too-thin frame close and pressing my lips to his for once undyed hair. “Like this?”
It wasn’t what he’d asked for, but it was all we could have. He nodded and I swayed, not even humming and knowing that it wouldn’t pass for dance. The smile on his dry lips told me I’d given what he asked for all the same, and even when he’d shut his eyes and faded into sleep, the upturned corners of his mouth offered me all the thanks I could have asked.

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-05-31T15:33:00

2006-05-31T19:38:14Z

Title: And I play pool
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: reflective/fluff
Rating: PG-13
Date: May 30, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #23 - happy
Pairing: hyde and tetsu
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: This fic has a touch of the bittersweet, but it remains a smiling reflection on good memories and a good present.
POV: First person (hyde)
Word Count: 892

“A spotless home is a good step towards a spotless life.”
He said it laughingly, sensible enough not to take anyone, even himself, too seriously, and knowing that his housekeeping habits were more than a bit unusual for a man of his young age.

But I was not much older and no wiser, and his gently self-teasing tone was not enough to satisfy my juvenile need to pull him down off his pedestal of over-polished end tables.
“Between that and your dresses, you’ll have to date a dyke to get some masculinity into this place.”

He blushed, and I felt a little guilty for causing that hurt look, hidden by his face turned away, a gentle and wavering smile saving face. He could have turned on me, pointing out the obvious fact that I was the one who best passed for a woman, curled hair, cheap jewelry, and white dresses sufficing for my stage image. I could have said I was sorry, and I could have hidden my smile when his strengthened, giving away how much it pleased him to hear kind words soothing burns left by acidic ones.

But neither scene would play out upon this small, clean white-carpeted stage. We couldn’t have chosen the right words to say why, and we wouldn’t have tried. We can still smile, sometimes, when we talk about it now.
He didn’t want to payback a taunt for a taunt; it held no appeal when the antagonist was I. I didn’t want to overplay my gentler disposition; there was too much to be seen in these actions.
It didn’t matter that I wouldn’t have been hurt; it didn’t matter that no one looking was willing to see. His light flush rose to bring an innocent illusion to his face, masking his impure thoughts as much as it highlighted mine.

I might have been mistaken as a bit of a bully by our well-intentioned but none-too-observant manager. Me, overpowering, overshadowing, overwhelming our determined and confident bassist, leader, god? Only in my wildest daydreams fueled by too much alcohol and a bad day in the studio. I never threw more than he could handle. These days, I suspect that while my fantasies allowed me to accomplish that immature and unkind victory, my dreaming was way over my head. Although even with his platform heels he stood at an unimpressive height, his waifish frame giving him the look of a sapling that required stakes and strings to stand against the breeze, a slender sword does more damage than a club, and he could have proven to be the same if he’d so desired. He had no need for the strength of his body.

We fought more than anyone else in the band combined. More even than the number of times he got upset with the staff. Some of the staff could hardly stand him for the way he was; ken gave up school for him because of those same qualities. You could love him, you could hate him, you could just not give a damn, you could like him well enough but not think about him at all for days. Except for a select few friends, it was all the same to him.
I believed that I didn’t believe in love and the rest of those choices weren’t good enough for me. So I loved him, and I told myself it was all sorts of other names. Devotion, affection, attraction, lust, connection, desire, adoration—anything that would justify they way I felt without giving in to the use of that word for a lie.

He used that word in the first sentence spoken after my hostility had snapped its teeth only to slink away in shame and his pride had recovered. Not thirty seconds after I’d flung vulgar and harsh words in his pretty face he lit it up with an uncharacteristically nervous smile and admitted to, professed what had stopped him from lashing back, what I had less-than-knowingly let stop me from uttering a ‘sorry’.

And all I could do was stare. I stared so long the clock’s ticking could have been a bomb as I watched his expression twitch from hopeful to expectant to stunned and hurt. I know he could have held up to rejection; in withholding even that, offering only a blank look too surprised to show any emotion, I had wronged him, spit in his face. When I saw the water build in his eyes and crossed the room to embrace him, to offer the comfort he needed and the response he’d wanted, he struggled to push me away until I had him sobbing in my arms, entangled uncomfortably on the floor. But that was enough for him, and the next time we found ourselves entwined so ungracefully it was in a sweaty and moaning state of blissful undress.

We laugh at that, too, now that it is far enough behind us. We were on again, off again, secretive while open about the whole thing and amiable when off again finally meant off. My wife thinks he’s a sweetheart and I play pool with his lover—they’ve both known for years what we once had and they both know that the past is passed.
I don’t buy most happy endings and it isn’t over yet, but I didn’t buy love back then, either.

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-05-27T03:34:00

2006-05-27T07:36:45Z

Title: Gently
Category: fan fiction, poetry, one-shot
Genre: songfic/dark
Rating: R
Date: May 3, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #45 - Strawberry
Pairing: hyde and tetsu
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: This is a songfic. It’s also a bit of a headf**k.
POV: First person (hyde)

Songfic
Song title: THE GHOST IN MY ROOM
Artist: L'Arc~en~Ciel
Words and Music: hyde
Translated By: jouyou kashi

love me look at me
The days I live as a prisoner of a ghost

There was something there, once. I’m not just kidding myself, making up a past that makes me happy. The heat, the sweat, your teased and sprayed and abused locks sticking to my neck and the marks I never hid with cheap makeup—I’d rather forget them than imagine them.
We can’t go back. I can’t live held captive by a fantasy.

touch me please hurt me
Haunted by the lies in my dreams

The neighbors must wonder why I do more laundry than any single man ever ought to. But I wake screaming your name and I turn over, thinking you’ll be there. I know you won’t be, never will be. But in a waking haze, I can see you there.

drive me play with me
The window is my way of connecting with the outside

You’re a flirt, you know. But you don’t know. You’re playing with my reality and you don’t even realize. Sometimes I come in on days when I don’t have to, skip breaks when I could go have a smoke, instead standing just out of your range of view and watching you play.

call me please help me
The only thing I left behind was you

And when I’ve given up my hopes and fallen into the monotony of marriage and family, can I hope against sanity that you’ll shake it up for me? The only sacrifice I regret is the last chance.

kiss me knock on me
I search for you in the window once again today

Please just once let me feel it again; make it hurt so I won’t forget. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you play. My connections can get me into the studio, but no matter how long I stare into that room, I can’t make it anything but empty.

hold me please feel me
I ask why I can't return

Just one more embrace, like you used to. Just one more touch, for the fans, for the camera, for me, for you…Tell me, is it really so hard? It was the most natural thing before. Things haven’t changed the way you think.

The sun makes my eyes feel dizzy
embraced by ray-tracing oh! oh!
If I can get away I'll grab it in these hands

All day spent walking at the oceanside, in the sun…I feel so faint I don’t know if the image of you is real or just a mirage. The arms around me might be yours, the fingers that touch my lips and the voice that gently chastises, tells me to look up and drink this, it’s you, I know it’s you, and I’d pull you close if you wouldn’t pull away.

he says! steal your love
My target glistened brighter than a gem

Impulse presses my dry lips against yours, glossed with something strawberry. The backlight gives you a halo, but you’ve had it all along.

The mischief in its smile shows
he says! steal your love

That tone doesn’t change—you scold, but your lips part and curve and you let me repeat…

Swimming in the surroundings of a boat
Sunken in a pitch black sea, looking like a mermaid

It feels like drowning, but I never want to come back up. Older, more tired, and you’ve never been so stunning--were the Sirens so lovely?

I want to drink the poison, I awoke from the dream
Increasing the speed so I won't be set free

The ice cold water running into my ears and breathed sharply up my nose is enough to tell me it was illusion—the overwhelming heat of the sun, and the rousing hands of a stranger were only yours in a feverish fantasy. If I could have run faster, harder, to make it the last moment, oh…

he says! steal your love
I don't look over my shoulder at the door that set me free

There is no time to be looking back. What’s forgotten by one is forgotten by another. A memory cannot hold the future in its grasp.

I don't even need this rusty key, but
he says! steal your love

There is no reason to remember. There is no reason to feel. But it calls—make your own reality.

Facing tomorrow, if I could take
the mechanical you along, I'd change the past

I’d give up everything between that moment and this if we could go back and replay the faded images on the reel.

But the sheets aren’t just damp, but bloody, and the pain is real. The place where your image once lay is indented.

the ghost in my room

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-05-05T01:36:00

2006-05-05T05:39:07Z

Title: Padlock
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: dark
Rating: PG-13
Date: May 4, 2006

Written for 30_kisses
Theme: 10 - #10
Pairing: hyde and Megumi (L'Arc~en~Ciel)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, hyde, Megumi, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: Plot outline requested by hoyah
Word Count: 968
POV: First person (hyde)

Warning: If you're looking for the happier side of hyde x megumi, scroll down to another story on this journal. This fic demonizes the poor woman.

It’s windy. It’s peaceful up here, and quiet except for the soft rush of the air past my ears. Thin wisps of smoke issue from my lips and drift in lazy paterns…
Those things will kill you one day.
Even up here in what I thought was a sanctuary, her voice reaches me. Is it really that ingrained? Is it really that inescapable?

One step forward.

I never thought I’d meet her. I wanted to, sure, but who didn’t want to get up close and personal with a woman like her? So what if there were plenty of fangirls who would have said something like that about me; all the hyperactive teenage adoration in the world wouldn’t get me any closer to seeing her.
I couldn’t help but turn into a nervous, giddy fanboy when the powers that be put us on the same show, in the same room, at the same table, with giggling, unhelpful band mates and highly amused hosts.
If I believed in things like that, I’d have thought there was a spark when I touched her hand. I remember watching the tape of the show and realizing I’d pulled away as though there really had been one. I needed to watch that tape every day for a week before I could believe it was real.

Two steps forward.

The view up here is nothing special, but it’s still nice. All there is to see, mostly, is other rooftops, and the multicolor specks I know are cars. Silver like mine, green like hers…but the best to ever grace this lot has always been when tetsu visits. That flashy pink Porsche makes me laugh every time. She hates when I have friends over. She doesn’t usually say it, but the look on her face is unmistakable.

Three steps forward.

It’s funny, because it’s those friends who pushed us together. I was too shy. Too nervous. I’ll never live down my reaction when they told me they’d invited her to a concert and the closing party…
Refusing to believe in love doesn’t actually do any good for one’s nerves.
She was stunning in a casual dress, and I could have practically crawled out of whatever it was my stylist had shoved at me in my state of junior-high regression.

Four steps forward.

How many times have I come up here just to look at the sky? It’s not something I can explain very well, when I try, but it’s refreshing. There’s hardly ever anyone up here. Most people in the building have never gone looking for the roof access. Which really ought to be locked, when I think about it. There isn’t even a guardrail, much less a proper wall. Just a straight drop. I came up here one night and found some high school boys drinking—I stuck around against their rude protests to watch that none of them fell.

Five steps forward.

She almost fell on our first “date”. And it was almost funny. I thought I was nervous, but she showed me how nervous was done. But I minded my manners, didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile. I reassured her that she looked lovely even while doing so (I know it was corny, but she really appreciated it) and we forgot about it.

Six steps forward.

I’ve forgotten a lot of things over the years and then remembered them at the strangest times. Moments on stage, moments with friends, moments with family, moments with her that were so trivial then but somehow important later. Like now. Looking down at my cigarette as the drizzle puts out the near half that was left, I can’t help but remember some strange moment in Taiwan, filming that ridiculous vampire movie and sweltering in the heat. I never regretted giving in and signing on, but she never forgave me. I don’t know what about it offended her so much. But it did. Just like my smoking offends her.
They’re bad for you. They’re bad for the baby.

Seven steps forward.

The baby. He’s not a baby anymore. And I didn’t smoke in the house. I didn’t need to be told not to; I wouldn’t have. Even if I make an unsatisfactory husband, I try my best as a father. It’s funny. Even to myself, I don’t seem like the type to be one. But there’s nothing to convince you that love is real quite like seeing the woman you married holding the child that is both hers and your own.
She doesn’t think much of my parenting. I sort of think it’s because she wants complete control, and she’s certainly quite capable, but why should I have to step aside? Why should I be second best? Why am I wrong?

Eight steps forward.

Why am I always wrong? I wasn’t wrong when I asked her to marry me, when she said yes. I wasn’t wrong with the kiss that sealed a promise of forever. I wasn’t wrong…
I’m not wrong, now.

Nine steps forward.

I could stand here for hours.
I could look down at the parking lot, up at the sky, out at the other buildings, and not move an inch.
I could remember ever thing I’ve ever found pleasure in and every sting she’s left scarred into me.
I could stand here and wait until I could stand no more, and let the placement of my toes decide which way I’d fall.
I could step one more time.
I could be wrong.

Ten steps.

Ten steps to infamy.
Ten steps to learning how to fly.
Ten steps to freedom from a ring I never thought I’d see as a shackle.
One step back to sturdy ground and one about-face back to the door that will be padlocked by tomorrow if the landlord knows what’s good for him.

The request:
hoyah - Do the #10. hyde leaps off a building, each step towards the edge (nine steps until he jumps--that being the final step off the building) recalling a memory. Memories should go in chronological order, from his start with Megumi to the thing that ruined their relationship to the last time he saw her. And then WHOOSH. Flying hyde.
8D;; Don't kill me...

bloodied_quill - I'm not going to kill you, but I'm not going to write it, either.
His tenth step is going to be backwards; I can't kill hyde in a fic like this. Granted, he hanged himself in my first 30_kisses fic but...I can't.

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-05-04T14:26:00

2006-05-04T18:42:53Z

Title: Clutch
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: tableau (snapshot, drabble)
Rating: PG-13
Date: May 4, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #30 - Lust
Pairing: tetsu and hyde of L’Arc~en~Ciel
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Word Count: 201
POV: second person (hyde)

On stage, you sweat under hot lights, salt water dampening the layers of your black and white dress. You radiate an energetic passion and clutch your bass for dear life.

The fans scream your name and you love it more than you’ll ever admit. You flirt with me to flirt with them, and their squeals are all the reward you could ever need.

Their eyes are on you, their minds are on you, their hearts are for you. You’ll never disappoint.

Between myself and them—I’m no longer able to distinguish which way the jealousy runs.

In my small and cluttered apartment, you sweat beneath me, salt water dampening my worn blue sheets. You radiate a lust and pleasure and clutch my hair, my shoulders, my hips to keep you steady.

I whisper your name and you love it; it’s written all over your face and in the way you beg me not to stop. You dance with masochism to dance with pleasure, and fingers entwined in your hair as I gasp in incoherent release are all the reward you could ask for.

My eyes are on you, my mind is on you, my heart is for you. You’ll never disappoint.

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-05-04T02:16:00

2006-05-04T06:19:11Z

Title: Salt
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: dark
Rating: PG-13
Date: May 4, 2006

Written for 30_kisses
Theme: 6 - the space between dream and reality
Pairing: hyde and Megumi (L'Arc~en~Ciel)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, hyde, Megumi, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: Plot outline requested by sherlock_nomes
Word Count: 397
POV: First person (hyde)

Someone is screaming.
They’re calling my name, I know that much, but I can’t hear what it is…

There’s a face in a photograph and a hand on my shoulder, a gentle smile that might just be for me...or maybe it was the camera.

There’s the laugh of a child and I think he’s mine…even if I thought I was certain I couldn’t even keep care of a cactus. But the woman taking his hand, crying, she looks so familiar.
And the feel of that woman beneath me doesn’t seem wrong.

I taste something sweet on the fingers of a lover…their face is hidden and I can’t reach the mask to pull it away.
I taste liquid metal and watch them torn away.

Salt water burns and soothes a wound I didn’t know I have, closes around me and fills my lungs, but my eyes are open to the filtered light and I am not afraid…

Red-polished fingernails trace wings on my back, wings that unfurl to guide me into a blaze of cold fire. I smell rubber burning and all I can do is shiver.

I thought I was running, but I was the only thing still.
Why am I dizzy?

There’s a song, a voice I know but cannot place. My lips part to sing along and all I hear is gasping.

A sea of faces, chanting that name again…I can see them, feel them…how long will I wait before I know what they’re saying? I know it’s for me.

The wine in the glass is finer than anything I’ve had before, and the lips pressed against my neck are almost too soft to be real. The motion of her hips leads me and I’ll follow forever if she’ll never let go.

But her nails dig into my wrist as she pulls me away from something hazed in silver and I’m cold…
I pull away and she comes after me.
I’m too fast for her.
I don’t know why I’m hiding.

I know her. When I reach for the mask it shatters, her kisses are cold, and the blood on her lips is mine.

I can fly here.

I’m sinking.

I have omniscience in a world of the blind.

If I give it up, will I remember?

Will I miss it?

Do they miss me?

What have I missed?

I trust you to tell me.

((Request by sherlock_nomes:
For hydexMegumi: 4 the space between dream and reality
I got this idea as I was listening to Deloused in the Comatorium by The Mars Volta and is born out of my facination of dreams...
Now, I'm going to be totally evil here, but Hyde gets into some accident (whether it's a car accident or something else is up to you) that gets him seriously injured and in a coma for a few months. But in his mind, he has dreams that seem incredibly real that he can't comprehend what's happened to him. He just continues journeying through the cosmos of his mind not remembering who he is or where he is. But as he "travels" deeper into the realm of these dreams, realizations surface as he regains his memory and finally he has to decide whether or not to stay in this sleep or wake up to be with his family again, therefore being stuck in the space between dream and reality. Which will he choose? :O
I know it's really abstract and strange, but I've always wanted to see a fic writen entirely in a dream and this seemed like the perfect way to do it ^_^))

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-05-03T21:30:00

2006-05-04T01:35:20Z

Title: Transcend
Category: fan fiction, poetry, one-shot
Genre: songfic/poetry
Rating: G
Date: April 29, 2006

Pairing: hyde and (ambiguous)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: This is a poem within a song. There is a pair, but what pair you see it as is up to you.
POV: first person (hyde)

Song title: Cradle
Artist: L'Arc~en~Ciel
Words: hyde, Music: yukihiro
Translated By: Brian Stewart & Takako Sakuma @ centigrade-j.
(for a rather different translation, see jouyou kashi)

Don't breathe, just close your eyes
Let's just entrust ourselves to the flow.

What they say about us doesn’t matter. It’s not really like that.
Don’t believe all the tales I’ve told.
Don’t worry. Don’t hesitate.
Trust me, love me, let me kiss you.
Let this moment be the first, the last, the only, if you want it to be.
Hold my hand; you’ll never drown.
Time keeps moving but there’s no need to fear.

swaying and sinking
in the pull of the blue moon.

Nothing is perfection, and we’re taking on water,
But it’s just this once, once in so long, and this tear will mend.

It's like I'm being gently hit by a wave
that's ah...like a cradle.

And I realize more now than I could before just what this means.
It soothes what it burns.

I float in cosmos for the place to return
living or dying there is no meaning.

If it fades, may I fade with it;
And regret what I don’t, and fail…

there is nothing no past no future
nor is anyone here, I'm not even alone.

Transcendence.

the sky melts into my heart
ah... at last they've become one.

I can accept anything if I know it was right.

I float in cosmos for the place to return
living or dying there is no meaning.

If it was meant to be this way, if it was fate, if it was destined, if it was better.

I float in cosmos for the place to return
living or dying there is no meaning.

Passion and apathy merge as one—separating oil from water.

I float in cosmos for the place to return
sacred love for you there is no meaning.

Transcend.

Used for:
30_kisses theme 22 - cradle
50stories theme 38 - separation

please comment if you read.
Requests are open

bloodied_quill @ 2006-04-27T19:37:00

2006-04-27T23:39:57Z

Title: d'argent (silver)
Category: Poetry
Date: April 27, 2006

Un lever de soleil gris
Et le lapin blanc courra
Sous l'arc en ciel
Et trouvera Oz en flamme

Je vois santé d'esprit dans le verre fondu

((One grey sunrise
And the white rabbit will run
Under the rainbow
And will find Oz in flames

I see sanity in the molten glass))

bloodied_quill @ 2006-04-05T15:00:00

2006-04-05T19:00:19Z

Title: Reasoning
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: (angst/romantic)
Rating: G
Date: April 3, 2006

Written for 50stories
Theme: #33 - Mountain
Pairing: tetsu and hyde (unrequited) of L’Arc~en~Ciel (sub-pair hyde and Megumi)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Comments: Plot outline by request of xstreetofalice.
Word Count: 910
POV: first person (hyde)

I wish I could use that trite line—“I remember it like it was yesterday”—but it’s not true anymore.
I don’t know who said what or what dirty jokes flew or what we were drinking or who acted the stupidest (I suspect it was me), but I remember the feeling—celebrating five years as L’Arc~en~Ciel, five years older, none the wiser, and almost too nervous to admit that we were finding success for fear that saying it would break the spell and it would all be an illusion.
It makes me feel so old when I think about just how long ago that was. When the band was my life and my family, and it was really that simple.

Maybe I miss it.
Some days when my evening is filled with my son’s frantic lament that he just can’t do his homework and my wife just can’t decide…something (okay, okay, I wasn’t listening. I’m terrible), I can almost, almost tell myself I wish it were still like that.
But that’d be a lie. Because in the morning, when I wake up next to this beautiful woman and find my son already up, at the kitchen table looking tired but proud and hoping one of us will read over his homework (the same that he just couldn’t do), I wouldn’t give this up for anything.

Don’t think that means I didn’t cry the day tetsu kept us late in the studio and told us it was over.
Even if we could maybe have agreed it was better this way, going out at the top instead of waiting to fall apart and fade away.
Just try reasoning with tears. It doesn’t work that way.

Once the tissues had gone ‘round and the self-conscious sniffling had set in, we made a few promises.
We’d go out smiling.
And we’d never forget.
Who we were, or each other.
We didn’t care how corny that that sounded.

The last tour, the last concert, the last all hands in for the pep talk, it really is a blur and I don’t have the words.
I’m just full of clichés these days, aren’t I?
Doesn’t matter.

It might have been a week, maybe two, later that tetsu called us up again, wanting to get us all together to go out for dinner and drinking, like a farewell or something.
I thought it was maybe a bit morbid and depressing, but of course I wasn’t going to say no. We needed that, really, to say goodbye.

And we’d all walked there, figuring we might end up drinking too much to drive, and none of actually did.
I think I saw tetsu start to cry when we said our goodbyes. I can’t be sure. I was a little busy sniffling myself.
Maybe I’d somehow forgotten that we lived in the same direction, or maybe I really had drank more than I remember, but it was something of a surprise when tetsu said he wanted to walk home with me. Even more of one when he walked all the way upstairs with me.
And I was properly stunned when he handed me a postcard, calloused fingers running over my cheek, a faint smile twitching at the corners of his lips. I must have looked startled, but he didn’t say a word. And before I could ask what was wrong, he turned away.
I called out after him and he looked back without stopping…
The tears in his eyes begged me to follow him and the pained smile begged me to stay put.
And nothing more.

I couldn’t watch the place he’d been anymore. Even though I almost wanted to stay frozen there and burn what had just happened into my memory, maybe so I could figure it out one day. Because I couldn’t understand right then. And I didn’t realize it wouldn’t be long until I did.

I stared at the front of the postcard for a full minute and a half without even considering flipping it over.
Mountains. Snowcapped. Probably European, though I never bothered to read that bit on the back.

And it never hit me, until that exact moment, how strong of a person that he was.
He’d taken a bunch of immature indies musicians and turned it into a band that lasted longer, made it higher than even he could have imagined back then.
Even through problems. Even when he took it hardest because he was supposed to be the strong leader for us. Even when he got used as the sounding board when he probably wanted to scream himself.
I flipped over the card.

It’s been so many years that my life has been L’Arc~en~Ciel that I don’t think I know what anything else is anymore.
I need to find out. I need this to be over. I need to move on.
I’ve always needed to move on.
I believe you can love someone from the moment you meet them. I realized that the day I saw you, even if it was hard to tell from your looks that you really were a man. I still believe that now every time I picture your smile.
And your smile shines out of that family portrait with your family, and they are just as beautiful as you are.
I can’t watch and I can’t wish any more.
But I know I can’t forget.
I can love you from here.
Ogawa Tetsuya

There was no return address.

The request:
xstreetofalice:
And it never hit me, until that exact moment, how strong of a person that he was.

That's what just popped in to my head as I began to write this, so I thought that I should put it there. Because it adds an extra perspective to it. L'arc has to break up and this is like, five years down the future. There has never been any talk of loving anyone and hyde's happily married to Megumi with his kid and tetsu's all doing his thing and so are everyone else. Then, for some reason, they do this whole "Let's get the band together and go out" again thing. They all go home and tetsu's walking hyde to the door and hands him a postcard with a mountain on it and walks away. It's a postcard about how tetsu's leaving to go be away from fame and all that good stuff, and on the postcard he reveals his always been secret love for hyde. But! There's no return address, so tetsu disappears and the hyde can not find him.

Comment if you read

Requests are open here.

bloodied_quill @ 2006-03-27T01:20:00

2006-03-27T06:23:28Z

Title: pull
Category: Poetry
Date: March 27, 2006

Scream so loud you can't be heard.
Pull against the restraints until they choke you or you'll never know they are there.
Take off your glasses so you can see.
It's not about trying anymore.

If you aren't afraid of drowning, you'll never learn to swim.

personal favorite

2006-03-22T21:37:02Z

Title: SMILE
Category: fan fiction (vaguely), one-shot
Genre: soliloquy
Rating: PG
Date: March 15, 2006

Pairing: NONE (with mentions, however, of both hyde and tetsu, my challenge claim)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue,etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Word Count: 448
POV: second person (hyde to you)
Used (but NOT written) for 50stories
Theme: 3 - Amusement
Summary: This is very broad, almost enough to be seen not as hyde speaking but almost any irritated artist. Sometimes we need a little reality check.

Don’t look at me that way.

Don’t look at me and smile in that self-satisfied way as though you’ve got all the answers. As though you know me as well as I know myself. Maybe better.
Don’t think I’m oblivious to the subtle hint when you wax philosophical about personas. I know you think you’ve seen through mine.

Which one?

You memorize every lyric I’ve ever written. Even the old ones you spent a month trying to get hold of and then had to play through high quality headphones and jot down by ear.

You watch my every movement during every song, and each performance of the same song back-to-back, over and over. You know exactly what word prompts me to look at the camera and when I look away; when I look at tetsu and if I smiled or not.

You’ve seen, and heard and read every interview I’ve ever given, and every single detail anyone I’ve ever known has said about me. And you know the facial expression that went along with it.

You can date a picture to the year and month by my hair. You could trace where my scars would be if they weren’t airbrushed out. You’ve researched the most likely medical effect of how I got them, and you think you’re right.

You know exactly how I lick my lips; how I cross my legs and how I fidget when I don’t, how I still manage to fidget even when I do. You watch how my posture compares to every person around me. You watch it change as I speak.

You know what absurd music and variety show games I’ve won and which I’ve lost, and you can picture my reaction—from smile tainting a sulk to the sparkle behind a smile. You know who I beat or lost to each time, and by how much.

You’ve listened to my answers change as years have passed. And you’ve convinced yourself that you know which ones have changed naturally with age and which ones I’m changing to keep it interesting.

And you think that you’ve found what drives it all. Where the man on stage stops and where I begin. Why the one is different from the other.

I want to grab you and shake you until that smile snaps right off. I want to ask you if you know your best friend, your cousin, your babysitter as well as you think you know me, or if you’ve spent so much time analyzing me that you forgot to bother.

I wonder just what you’re making of the little smile I give you in return, half fake and half obscenely amused by your foolishness.

Inspired by HYDE's The Cape of Storms, a discussion on a forum, and a severe lack of sleep.

bloodied_quill @ 2006-03-14T19:33:00

2006-03-15T00:41:35Z

Title: English 127 midterm essay B
Category: pressure paper
Date: February 23, 2006
Grade: A

Prompt - Viewing Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale through Emerson's essays On Love and On Friendship

bloodied_quill @ 2006-02-28T23:12:00

2006-03-01T04:15:41Z

Title: Ours
Category: fan fiction, one-shot
Genre: reflective
Rating: PG
Date: February 2006

Written for 30_kisses
Theme: 4 - our distance and that person
Pairing: hyde and Megumi (L'Arc~en~Ciel)
Disclaimer: I do not own/am not affiliated with L’Arc~en~Ciel, Sony Ki/oon, Danger Crue, hyde, Megumi, etc. This is a work of complete fiction. It’s for fun; I’m not going to make any money off of this. However, this particular story is my own writing, so please do not claim it as yours or repost it without permission.
Word Count: 550
POV: First person (hyde)
Summary: A child changes everything. Of course, we know what there is to be said for change.

She never looked quite so beautiful as when I saw her holding our newborn son for the first time.
It didn’t matter that she looked so tired and worn out, that she even touched her hair with embarrassment and blushed, saying she knew she looked as though she hadn’t slept in a year.
Neither of us could do much more than beam.

She is beautiful. In every way.

Of course, there is more than one kind of beautiful.
The beauty of her strength—that was never a problem. It was, at the risk of repeating myself—beautiful. And I loved it.

And of course, the infant fussing in her arms—he was beautiful, and I loved him.
And that, of course, was not a problem.

It was another kind of beauty that became an issue.
When he cried all night—Megumi was beautiful, and I loved her. And I stared at the ceiling almost wanting to join the chorus out of pure frustration. Not for the lost sleep, because I’d gladly have gone the night without it…if only for something else.
When she shooed me out of the bathroom and gave me that look,—oh, god, she looked half amused and half disgusted and even that was...beautiful.

Now that I’ve made myself sound like a lustful dog…
It wasn’t just about that at all.
And I’m not trying to blame anyone here.

I suppose I could take quite a lot of blame here—going away for tours, long hours at the studio, trying not to completely lose track of my friends.
I was never blind to the resentment that caused, trust me.
And I’d be in denial if I claimed not to resent my own son.
As horrible as that is.

You know how children are very egocentric? They seem to believe that the whole world revolves around them, and that whatever they think is how it is.
They’ve pretty much got that one right on the dot.

Because, whether I felt displaced by him or not, all he had to do to be at the center of my world was simply exist.
And it was the same way for her.
It just sometimes seemed like her world didn’t have room for anything else.

I swear—if our anniversary weren’t on Christmas, she’d have forgotten it.
And she didn’t seem to realize it was my birthday until 4 that afternoon.
I got up and made her breakfast in bed on hers.
And she was surprised.
Not only that I’d done it, but that it was her birthday.
Apparently, her world didn’t even have enough room for her.

And I wondered more than a few times just how far it could go.
When the line would be crossed where husband and wife were nothing more than formal titles that we held on to so that our son would have the structure of both mother and father.
Because that does happen, no matter how much every couple likes to think it won’t be them.

But we’re held together by the same thing that pushes us apart.
He’s not hers or mine, but ours.
Our distance, and our connection, rest in something, someone, who may never understand his power.

And as I kiss him goodnight and smile, I can’t hold that against him.

please comment if you read
Requests are open here.