I never said I'd lie and wait forever
If I died, we'd be together
I can't always just forget her
But she could try

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever ever...
Ever...

Get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now
At the top of my lungs in my arms she dies
She dies

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me

If I fall
If I fall (down)

At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
Never coming home
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the wounds that are ever gonna scar me
For all the ghosts that are never gonna...

---

The microphone was dropped on the stage. The song ended up in a few notes on a piano and the screaming fans shouted for an encore. But he was weary. That song had taken out everything in him, heart and soul. If he had the choice, he would collapse here, in the middle of the cords and instruments, but with whatever little energy he had left, his feet guided him backstage where he fell back on a lounge-like chair. The screams of female fans still resonated throughout his mind, giving him an immense headache. Daisuke sighed, visibly uncomfortable in his current state. If only they knew who this song was dedicated to, who it was about, they'd actually scream for the right reasons, he thought to himself. Misinterpretated was often his condition.

It was already the end of the universal tour for his band. Daisuke wanted this tour to be as short as possible, so they only stopped in known places. Astral Astoria was their last stop and now, it was time to go back home. But he was hesitant as to whether or not, he really wanted to go back. There were rumors speculating that Severe's headquarters were around and he secretly knew it had something to do with him. "Yuki ..." His lips murmured. One of the band members came and shook his shoulder to wake him up from his distant phase. Daisuke looked up to him and saw the smile on his lips. The sincerety of the smile, drawn by the fact that he could finally go home and see his girl, made Daisuke sad. He forced a little smile and sat himself up. "You guys go on ahead. I'm too tired to get into a ship now. I'll call you when I get home, promise." With that, they shook hands and said goodbye.

Daisuke struggled mentally to get into his trailer. He went directly to the small bathroom and splashed his face with cold water before staring at his reflection. His ocean blue eyes seem dead. He let the cold water numb his hands before running through his light blonde hair. Sometimes, it surprised him to what point he could not recognize himself. He stripped off his stage clothes and slid into something more comfortable: a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. "I need a drink." He said out loud to himself, as if he needed any convincing. He put on a large pair of black sunglasses, even though it was pitch black outside and sneaked out of his trailer, past the crowd who were still screaming endlessly for the band and lost himself in the streets, in search for a bar.

The tour was magnificent. The dates had been confirmed merely days before its actual commencement, in a bold effort made by Gackt’s producers in order to promote the vocalist’s self-titled project before the band’s first full-length release was made publicly available, and within minutes each and every show had sold out -- although it appeared that a large proportion of the audience had somehow managed to get themselves admitted via other means, judging by the state of the already overly-packed venues. This success was largely due to the surprisingly positive feedback they had received from their debut single, “The Ghost Of You," which broke out onto the charts at a startling fourteenth position in its first week alone, after having seemingly struck a chord within lovelorn young girls all across Coruscant. News of this radical three-man act, with their unique blend of fast-paced industrial rock alternating with moody, soulful piano solos, had been quick to spread, resulting in their headlining tour that ended only moments ago with an unbelievably emotional rendition of the song that inspired their quick rise to fame.

Of course, Gackt himself -- or rather, Daisuke, as he was referred to by those few and close associates who had known him since before the media took a sudden and altogether undesirable interest in his personal life -- was consciously aware of exactly none of this. His demeanor had as of late deteriorated to the point where he resembled little other than a walking zombie, and on the rare occasion when his fellow band-mates could convince him to leave to confines of his chambers (which always seemed to adopt its own strange air of gloominess and morbidity whenever the vocalist was present, oddly enough), he would simply trudge along silently on their heels with his head bowed down, never once so much as speaking a word, save the sheer basics, and not bothering to glance in any direction other than at the ground immediately below. His manager and producers, however, were hardly concerned -- it was no secret that Daisuke was the chief attraction of the band, with his pretty-boy charms and hauntingly mournful vocals, and his morose conduct was just another aspect of his appeal. Not to mention, some of his most heart-wrenchingly powerful lyrics and melodies had been composed while suffering from the worst of these depressions, all sharing the same subject, all speaking of a mysterious lover whose identity was as yet undisclosed to everyone …

"Your manager told me I might find you here."

… All to do with him.

Daisuke swiveled around on his bar stool to face the direction of the voice, his throat seeming to close up and his senses ceasing to function as his gaze swept upward and onto the countenance of the very man whom he secretly called for each night on stage, the same man who endlessly tormented and plagued him in his nightmares. He looked surreal and beautiful all at once, his delicate features staring ahead with a wide-eyed, boyish kind of wonder that screamed of a softness and innocence that had become almost extinct nowadays. He looked on curiously and, after a few more seconds of stillness, canted his head to the side, a particularly unruly lock of pale golden hair coming to rest over his nose as he did so.

"How are you ?"

"How are you ?"

The sound of Yuki's voice almost made Daisuke want to forget everything. Three meaningless words coming from the mouth of the one he longed, was better than anything. His ocean blue eyes widened and he unconsciously dropped his glass to the floor. It broke and the alcohol splashed across the wooden floor but no one seemed to notice, since the place was so crowded. He could almost feel tears stinging the corner of his eyes.

"Yuki ... It can't be." Daisuke stuttered, almost.

[OOC: Sorry people, I made a bit of a boo-boo. Just ignore the avatar and pretend this is Vasuki posting, kk ? -___-;]


The corner of Vasuki's left eye twitched ever so faintly at the mention of his real name -- as a rather prominent member within Severe's ranks, it was necessary for him to adopt a false alias, one that wouldn't reveal the nature of his true profession. To the regular populace, he was just another traveling businessman, and a man with such a supposed career was hardly cause for concern or suspicion onboard a vessel like the Astoria.

Lowering his head, Vasuki glanced down at the now broken shards of glass that had been deposited on his otherwise flawlessly polished leather shoes, and, with an abrupt movement of his foot, kicked them aside. Gackt's pained expression and earnest words hardly seemed to register in his mind, as his features remained perfectly unchanged and impassive to an alarming degree. He raised his head again and, although a small, polite smile played on his lips, his eyes were deathly cold and vacant.

He crossed his suited arms behind his back. "You're not wearing a disguise. How do you know nobody followed you here, or that you're not being watched at this very moment ? A person with a background like myself can't afford to become the subject of regular tabloid gossip and schoolgirl rumors. In such a scenario, I'm afraid that our meetings will have to be …"

Vasuki's voice trailed off as he paused to think for a second, choosing his words carefully before continuing. "My association with you, it will become rather … inconvenient."

Daisuke's surprised expression quickly changed into an angry one. It wasn't the first time that Yuki would be so cold to him in public. He was always a jerk, yet Daisuke always loved him. Though what he said was true and Daisuke agreed to it entirely, he couldn't help but clench his fists to try to not say anything bashful in public and dashed by Yuki, out of the bar. His blue gaze was indeed filled with tears now, those words were just too much.

Once he was outside the bar, he slid his sunglasses over his eyes once more and ran across the crowded street to the alley, in front of the bar. He waited for Yuki to take his sweet-ass time to get over to where he was, gritting his teeth, his body shaking with anger. Once Yuki came, he pulled him into the darkness by the arm and pushed him.

"You're so ... Argh ! Is that all you have to say to me, you jerk ??" He shouted, certain that nobody could hear them from the big crowd and loud streets.

A slow, almost half-smile tugged at the side of his pale lips at the sight of the singer standing before him, gazing fanatically with all the intensity of a lover betrayed, his fingers tightening and loosening their grasp on Vasuki's arm rhythmically in time with his own ragged breathing. Daisuke's chest heaved painfully from the labor of his sudden sprint and his hair had become unkempt, the ashen strands roughly framing the deep blue pools of his eyes as they now glistened with unshed tears, the sunglasses having fallen off at some stage during the struggle. A thin trickle of sweat trailed down his cheek -- or was he actually crying ? Either way, the image was unbearably alluring, and Vasuki had to strain all his mental faculties just to try and keep himself in control.

"You're so ... Argh ! Is that all you have to say to me, you jerk ??"

That did it -- with a violent shove, he had the boy's back pinned against the wall of the alley, the hand that Daisuke had used to grab him now suspended above his head in a vice-like grip, while the other arm was similarly held down by his side with equal power. The musician let out an audible gasp at the sudden display of power, but before he could protest, Vasuki's icy breath was on his ear. "Come now, lover," he exhaled heavily, causing a chill to run up deliciously along the entire length of Daisuke's spine, "you know I can hardly restrain myself when you play all hard to get like that."

With that, he brought his mouth down forcibly over Daisuke's, his tongue roughly pushing apart the boy's lips while his teeth grazed gently along his lower lip.

His efforts to get away from Yuki's grip was muffled and quickly tamed. Though he forced his kiss onto him, Daisuke couldn't help but gradually fall and return his kiss with the same intensity. He missed the taste in his mouth, his violent and firm grip, his whispering. Just a kiss like that from Yuki already made him hard. Slowly, his hand slipped out of his lover's hold and then gently tugged on his shirt. The tears in his blue eyes faded away, but the sad expression always remained.

Daisuke knew that it would kill his career if he was seen in another man's arms, forget about being in love with him. He didn't, however, know exactly the nature of Yuki's profession. When they had met and fallen in love, Daisuke was still in the process of making Gackt and Yuki ... Yuki was just there, only to suddenly vanish with little explanation.

"Yuki, where have you been all this time ...?" He found the strength to murmure what seemed to him to be a forbidden question.

"None of that matters, I'm here now," he whispered quietly, his otherwise effeminately soft voice now reduced to a muted growl due to the temporary euphoria the kiss had triggered. He thrust his lower torso tighter against Daisuke's body and deftly pushed aside his legs, then raised one thigh to graze lightly against the boy's growing erection. Daisuke instinctively threw back his head, a quiet moan escaping involuntarily from his lips as his eyes fluttered close. Vasuki lifted his now free hand and traced the outline of his lover's mouth with one finger while his teeth nibbled gently against the skin of his throat, the small bites gradually increasing in strength, in harmony with Daisuke's increasingly heavy pants.

His breaths were now damp and warm against Daisuke's neck. "As much as I'd love to go down on you right here and now, in this very alleyway, I think we'd better go find ourselves a room," he whispered, but again, before the singer could answer, Vasuki's tongue forced its way in between Daisuke's parted lips.

Once again, his words were muffled. Not that he'd make much sense anyways; Vasuki's thigh against his erection was driving him insane. His whispering made it so much worse, also. During a quick pause of the intense kisses, he successfully muttered, "My trailer's not too far from here ... Yuki." His body trembled, he wanted so much more.

Yuki was always aggressive and violent. He was also a jerk, but Daisuke never mind. It was the way he is and Daisuke loved him for who he was. No matter how insensitive he could be, he always ended up trying to make Daisuke happy. It was the thoughts that count, he always told himself. If only he knew to what extent he could go to be with him.

It took a bit of quiet reasoning and a tremendous amount of willpower for Vasuki to finally pry himself away from the warmth of the singer's deceptively strong body, long enough to mutter a resigned, "Alright." The drug-lord was, under usual circumstances, a walking portrayal of faultless diplomacy and self-discipline itself, and although he had yet to understand the true nature and mechanism of their relationship that caused him to react the way he did -- he wasn't going to complain.

His eyes followed Daisuke's form as they both made their way towards the trailer, all the while maintaining some distance between them so as not to arouse suspicion from passers-by. It was strange, he observed, as he studied the musician's every faint movement, how drastically different his personality was when he was performing with his band on stage. The thought etched a slight frown into his forehead, unconsciously -- Daisuke was as desirable to other men as he was to his screaming legions of female fans, and with his steadily increasing fame, it was only natural that he would want to experiment and indulge in the benefits that came along with his profession.

Once they had entered the trailer, he quickly maneuvered Daisuke through the cramped space, littered with all sorts of musical equipment, and eased him onto the bed with a softness that had up until now been altogether dormant. Vasuki loosened the clasp of his own belt while moving his legs to straddle the singer on either side, his free hand slowly unbuttoning Daisuke's shirt while his tongue lightly trailed along the exposed skin.

It was already decided: Daisuke would be his, always. He'd make sure of it.