Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.
Summary: Sometimes, you walk away too soon. Sometimes, things are meant to be, but you realize them too late. When you're broken inside, all you can do is count the minutes.
“You were the love I’ve always dreamed of; now I know I walked away too soon.”
-Hyde, “Shining Over You”
Yesterday, at 3:16 P.M., it was exactly ten months, one week, and five days since Gackt and I became lovers. I keep track, because I have never known anything like this. I try to take this relationship, label it neatly, and stow it away, ordered and sensible. I’m failing.
Something as simple as a relationship, and I’m failing.
I know my feelings for Gackt. They’re tumbled and twisted... entwined, but I can count them, and I can name them. I love him. I want him. I desire for him. I lust for him. At times, I am even annoyed by him. But always, always, I need him.
That’s the one that scares me.
I’m swallowed up. There’s no longer a ‘me’ without him. I try to look at him objectively: A man far too beautiful for his own good, followed by throngs of fans. He is just one of the many other people out there that happen to be wallowing in fame and fortune.
He sometimes leaves wet towels on the floor, he eats cookies in bed, when he makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (a favorite of Americans, he says), he always winds up getting jelly all in the peanut butter jar, and when he stays over at my house, he uses my toothbrush. A lot.
I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?
Because those things really aren’t the problem. I just say stuff like that to try and make it his fault. Really, I can put up with anything as long as I have Gackt. No, the problem is my own.
I can be writing lyrics, or rehearsing, or anything - it doesn’t matter. I’ll hear him on the radio or see him on the television, and I’ll know that someday he’ll die, and every part of me that ever lived will die with him.
It’s come to this. I need Gackt more than I need anything else. I look inside myself, and there is not one part of me - not one feeling, one thought, one memory, nothing - that has not been touched or changed or influenced by Gackt. There is no ‘me’ - there is just ‘us’.
But that scares me and my breath catches and my heart pounds and everything closes in. I stop what I’m doing and I get up and leave, so fast that I’m through his door before the chair I knocked over falls to the floor.
I used to hurt him so much when I did that. I’d see that pained look in his eyes. It was almost funny, really. He thought he didn’t show me enough love, and that he didn’t touch my heart, after all. Whenever I was cold to him, he’d spend days being extra loving towards me, giving little kisses and quiet touches. He’d try to reach me, wanting to let me know that he wanted to be a part of me.
But he’s already a part of me. I don’t think he realizes that’s why I left.
It had to stop. I was hurting him, and it was as if I was ripping out my own heart. How was I supposed to function like that? I was useless. I still am. When Gackt would go off somewhere, I couldn’t do anything without worrying about him. I would worry about the plane and if it had gotten there alright. Then he would come back tired and I would want to do nothing but be in his arms and make sure he was with me and he was real and everything was okay.
But, I knew it wouldn’t last, anyway. You see, I have a wife who loves me very much. And now, I also have a little daughter to consider. My needs, my desires, my... happiness... should not come before my responsibilities.
That’s why I’m here in my home, lying on my bed with Megumi’s head resting on my chest, the sound of her breathing helping keep me sane, somewhat. Our daughter is in the crib beside the bed, and she is sleeping, too.
I cannot sleep.
It’s been two months, three weeks, six days, eight hours, and ten minutes since I left Gackt. Tetsu once told me that hell is other people, but he was wrong. Hell is feeling so damn lonely after getting used to being with other people.
Hell is this. My life without Gackt. I see him on the television, and I hear him on the radio, and it kills me. I want to be able to touch him and kiss him, but I cannot.
It’s been two months, three weeks, six days, eight hours, and eleven minutes since I left Gackt.
We were meant to be, supposed to be, but we lost it.”
-Avril Lavigne, “My Happy Ending”