.

Sometimes Gackt and Hyde still hung out, even though Moon Child was long over and they no longer had to keep up appearances for the press.

In fact, Hyde sometimes wondered who they were keeping up appearances for, since after all, they weren’t exactly friends.

“You’re distant tonight.” Gackt’s voice was close to his ear, too close; his breath tickled, made a peculiar shivery feeling run through him. Hyde glared and leaned back on his barstool, then picked up his glass of whiskey and knocked it back as an excuse not to answer right away.

Gackt was studying him with those too-intent eyes; to be honest, Gackt frequently made him uncomfortable. He didn’t feel so much undressed by his gaze as unmasked.

“I just feel like being quiet. Is that wrong?” The words came out more snappish than he’d intended, and Hyde winced internally. Don’t give him an opening, don’t give him an opening…

Too late. Gackt’s expression had already slid into concern, but it was a polite sort of concern, like when you tell someone No, you’re not fine, and they make sympathetic noises at you even as their eyes glaze over. It made Hyde feel unaccountably angry. He gestured impatiently at the bartender, wanting another drink, wanting something to mellow his mood before it got out of hand.

Things were already out of hand.

When they’d first started getting together like this, he and Gackt, he’d made it clear up front: “We’re just gonna drink and talk. That’s it. Nothing more, okay?”

And Gackt had said “Sure,” but the look in his eyes had said something different, had said I remember that night, and his expression had said I know you remember it, too, and Hyde had known immediately that this whole thing was a really dumb idea.

So why did he keep coming back, every time Gackt called? He told himself to say no, every time, and every time he ignored his own advice and went anyway.

Gackt’s hand was on his knee in a too-familiar gesture, but Hyde didn’t have the heart to brush him off. “If something’s troubling you, Hyde, you can tell me about it,” Gackt said, something like sincerity in his pale eyes.

Hyde thought about hands on bare skin, and promises made in the dark. He thought about air, thick and humid, and the smell of Gackt’s perfume, and the slightly scratchy feel of the sheets beneath him. He thought of the taste of skin, and sweat, and later on, come.

He thought of his wife, waiting for him at home.

Hyde picked up his refilled glass of whiskey. “Everything’s fine, Gackt,” he said, and Gackt sat back, expression neutral, meaning he wouldn’t press things for now. Hyde couldn’t bring himself to regret the casual lie.

After all, they weren’t exactly friends.

.end.