Author: Savvy
Title: The Secret
Characters: Hyde/ Gackt (Not Shou and Kei)
Summary: Hyde recounts his life after he meets Gackt and how he has grown as a man and a lover.
Warning: Yaoi, adult language, angst, fingering, oral sex, anal sex.
Notes: Edited for mistakes on Feb 8, 2007
Edit: October 9, 2007- I changed some stuff. Took out some information that I thought was voiced too soon.

Starting a New Life

Secrets are my life. When I'm not keeping secrets for other people I'm hiding my own, which happens to be the biggest secret that I've ever kept since I was a little boy and guilty of breaking my mother's old china. I had long since confessed that indiscretion before I left home and my mother told me she had known all along. She said she saw the way my light brown eyes dimmed to a deeper shade of mahogany every time the china was mentioned in light conversation. She had forgiven me for that incident and I'd since moved on with my life, free of all guilt.

The secret I kept now is my own; not even my family or my close friends know of its brew deep in my soul where I have long since hidden it from the world. The secret, or as I like to call it, my heart, has been a part of me since my freshman year of college when I first stepped out of the bonds of the Takarai estate and my loved ones in Osaka and took the Tokaido/Sanyo Shinkansen to Tokyo where I began pursuing my love for the art of music.

My leave was very emotional and I can still remember my mother, trembling from head to toe, her face drenched in tears, pulling me into her loving embrace and squeezing me tight in her arms. "Take care of yourself. Haido," she whispered into my ear, kissing me tenderly on the cheek. "I will mother," I said reassuringly. She pulled away and smiled down at me; her usually meticulously combed and crafted caramel-shaded locks with just a hint of white falling in front of her face, obscuring her tiny, green eyes from view. "Make us proud," she sighed pulling away from me.

I smiled and nodded. Then I turned to my father who stood near the car, his arms crossed over his chest in silent defiance. He didn't want me to leave to pursue my dream I knew. I had heard his rant many times.

"Music," he had spat at home as I carried my bags to the car. "Music is a waste of time. You should be learning about the family business." I could hear the disappointment in his voice and I could see the hatred in his gray eyes. I remained silent as I went back and forth from the house to the car past the man that glared at me from behind a cloud of cigar smoke. "You're a disgrace to this family," I heard him whisper as I made my last trip. I paused at these words and bent my head in sadness. I heard him huff as he passed me and walked to the car. I sat in silence in the back seat all the way to the station.

I didn't expect him to send me off with a loving farewell. No, my father wouldn't give in that easily. He would rather hate me then see me doing something I loved rather than going into the oil business he called "only right." He remained at the car, a cigar dangling loosely between his lips. He raised one hand to the thing and removed it from his mouth as I watched on; the puff of smoke blowing away in a faint breeze. I nodded my head in farewell, but was saddened when he turned away and stepped back into the car.

"He'll see reason before long," my mother sighed, her eyes following my gaze as she stepped to my side. "Find a nice girl while you're there won't you? We're getting older now Haido. I want grandchildren."

"I'll try mother," I said averting my eyes from the car to my mother. "She'll be as beautiful as you are."

She smiled at the flattery and pecked me on the cheek. "Go along now before the train leaves without you."

I picked up my baggage, repositioning my guitar over my shoulder and kissing my mother one last time on the cheek, stepped onto the train. The scent of honey met my senses as I made my way to my window seat toward the back of the compartment. I looked for seat 24A and when I found it I placed my bag over head on the shelf and looked out the window. I saw my mother searching the many windows for me. I pressed my hand to the glass to get her attention and when she saw me she waved.

"I love you," she mouthed as the whistle blew and the train began to move. Tears glistened in her almond-shaped eyes. She didn't move to wipe them away.

"I love you too," I whispered as the train picked up speed. She waved to me but her movement was hidden by a haze of smoke.


I turned in my seat and gingerly wiped the tears from my eyes. So this was it. I was really going to college; defying my father and leaving all that I knew behind. The relief that coursed through my thin frame brought a grin to my lips. There was no going back now. I was a free man. Ha, the thought scared me beyond belief.

To pass the time I wrote music on a few sheets of lined staff paper. My mother had asked me on several occasions how I managed to write without hearing the notes first. I had shrugged then and I still didn't know how now. It was like I could hear the notes before I wrote them. "Like Mozart," my friends at school had joked when I tried to explain it to them. Yes, it was like Mozart. I had the entire song in my head. I simply needed to write it down.

The tip of the ball point pen in my hands moved sinuously over the parchment. It was effortless and with no mistakes. I didn't think about what I was writing until it was down on paper. I would then read over it all and the song would play in my head as if I were an eager listener to a live performance that only I could hear. My eyes darted back and forth in rhythm with the melody and harmonies of the song before me. It played inside me, its pulse just as strong as the one my heart made, even more so.

The song I wrote now was for my mother, as a gift for her birthday. I'd hoped to finish it before I left, but outside circumstances took precedent and I hadn't had the time. I would send it by express mail as soon as I got to the campus. Her birthday was coming soon and I wished to get it to her before.

We stopped at two stations in Kyoto and Nygoya while I sat and wrote. People got on and people got off. I saw a boy climb into the seat opposite me but I paid little attention. The trained rattled on, it's wheels squeaking against the tracks as we sped through the country side. Once I finished my song, I tucked the sheet music inside my bag and leaned my head against the warm window and took to looking at those around me. There was a couple in the two seats before me. The girl's head lay on her boyfriend's shoulder and his lay atop her. Whether they were asleep or not I couldn't see, but their breaths were steady in their chest, so I assumed they were.

In the seat across the tiny aisle sat a young man about my age. He wore a black turtle neck sweater and dark denim jeans. A medallion of a snake hung on a silver necklace around his neck. He was awake and strumming lightly on his guitar, the sound it made barely audible above the rumble of the train beneath us. His eyes were closed in concentration, his head bent down to his chest as his fingers moved back and forth over the strings of the instrument. He would pause every moment or so and shake his head then play some more, smiling when he was satisfied by his creation.

I was curious to hear what he played so I scooted over into the empty seat at my side and placed my feet in the aisle and listened hard, my ears straining to hear the vibrations.

The rhythm of the song was sweet and melodic, the notes lows and languorous. Each chord was strong and different from the one before giving it a detached feel, though arranged like so, they sounded beautiful together; too beautiful for someone so young to make. His gift was very rare. I closed my eyes and simply let the notes take over me.

"Do you like it?"

I jumped out of my reverie and peered into his gray eyes which were now focused on me. I nodded and grimaced shyly, my face blushing under my tanned skin. He cocked an eyebrow and grinned as he continued to play. I noticed that his tempo changed ever so slightly, as too impress, unlike before where he played merely for pleasure.

I leaned my head on the back of the seat and smiled. He played with effortless skill and practice. It didn't take long to realize that his craft was far more experienced than my own. I glowed with silent envy as the song drew to a close.

"You're amazing," I said more bluntly than I would have in any other circumstance.

"Thank you," he said, his tenor voice hypnotizing and just as soothing as his art. "My name's Gackt Camui," he said holding out his hand to me.

"Hyde Takarai," I answered taking his hand and shaking it. He had a firm grip and his hands were soft to the touch. That too shocked me for all other guitar players had slightly roughs digits due to the rigidity of the guitar strings.

I pulled away first and rested my hands in my lap. "How long having you been playing?" I asked.

"Three years," he answered as he scooted to the empty seat closer to the aisle. Our legs brushed for a moment as he got comfortable, resting his head on the back of the seat.

"You have a guitar I see," he added looking at the shelf over my head. "How long have you played?"

"Since I was ten," I added, my chest swelling with pride as I thought of all the time I had spent practicing over the years. "But I'm not as good as you." He smirked and crossed his legs, his foot brushing my leg again ever so slightly.

"We'll have to find out one day," he smiled. Our eyes met for a second and I grinned.

The engineer's voice came over the intercom then, telling us that we were five minutes from the next station. That was my stop…I think?

"You getting off?" he asked as I pulled my schedule out of my back pocket and looked at the map. "Yes, I think so," I grimaced. "I better get ready."

"You need help? With your stuff I mean."

"Um, no, I should be all right."

I hastily pulled down my things from the luggage rack as the train pulled into the station in Tokyo. The whistle sounded signaling that it was safe to get off board. I slung my guitar over my shoulder and grabbing the two leather bags from the seat, stood to leave the train. To my shock Gackt stood as well, his guitar slung over his shoulder. He was without bags.

"You're getting off too?" I smiled as he gestured for me to go first.

"Yes, I'm returning for my sophomore term at Tokyo College of Music."

"Oh," I said as I hopped down from the train onto the asphalt, my baggage weighing me down. It was dark out and I could barely see anything outside of the station's bright fluorescent lights. I shifted my grip on the bags and turned to face him. "I'm starting my freshman year there," I said grinning from ear to ear as I peered up at him. He was only a foot taller than me but I felt considerably dwarfed under his gaze.

"I'll show you around then," he grimaced, his eyes traveling from my face to my bags. He didn't speak as he moved to my side and took both the bags from my grasp.

"You don't have to," I stammered but he cut me off.

"I want to," he smiled. I sighed and gave up.

I allowed him to lead me through the station because honestly I didn't know where I was going. He whistled for a cab and together we climbed into the back seat of the red taxi.

"To T.C.M." He said to the balding driver. The old man nodded and we were off; the neon lights of Tokyo lighting the inside of the tiny cab.

"Where are you from?" Gackt asked at my side. He shifted closer to my side, sliding an arm around my back on the seat's top.

"Osaka," I answered glancing at him shyly before looking out the window again. I had never been in a place like this before. I was brought up in a small farming village on the outskirts of Osaka. There had been no 'night life' there. When the sun set the villagers stayed inside. Nights had been quiet there, too quiet sometimes. The sight outside of the tiny window was anything but. Flashing neon signs advertised for the most random things: Moon shoes, toothpaste and even "slide and go condoms." I blushed at the extremely graphic sign of a girl bending over with a guy close behind her. I had never been exposed to anything like that before. It was really eye opening.

I felt Gackt shift at my side and when I turned to face him he smirked at me.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" he asked. I could see the lights flash in his eyes and I smiled turning back to the window.

"You're very shy," he said bluntly bringing my attention back to him.

"Why do you say that?" I asked forgetting the fuss going on outside the car and looking directly at him.

"You just are. You're very reserved, hesitant actually."

"Well, you don't know me well enough to make judgments," I grinned. "You could turn out to be very wrong."

"I hope I am, in this respect."

I cocked a brow in confusion and he laughed. Why he laughed I didn't know. I shifted away from him and looked back out the window. This made him laugh more for some reason.

I had a lot to learn about Gackt Camui.

We arrived at the campus and with his help we went to the student commons so that I could get a printed copy of the classes I had already registered for and my dorm room number. The large room was packed with late night arrivals and I was a bit overwhelmed by the amount of attention Gackt brought in our direction. I stood in his shadow as several girls sauntered our way. It was obvious they thought he was attractive. One girl, wearing a black and white plaid skirt and white button up shirt wrapped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him on the cheek. She then proceeded to whisper in his ear. He smiled graciously and whispered something back. I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot as the other girls eyed me. Their predatory eyes took in my short blonde hair, fair skin, simple white shirt and jeans and the guitar on my back. They turned up their noses in what seemed to be disinterest. I winced and looked at Gackt's back, tapping my foot impatiently.

"I'll catch up with you later," I said as I made my way to the register's desk. He waved over his shoulder, not turning as I left. I rolled my eyes and crossed to the desk.

"Name?" the boy said. He was dressed in school memorabilia, a red cap on his head.

"Takarai, Hyde" I said shifting my guitar uncomfortably on my shoulders. He searched through a box of files and pulled out a manila folder and handed it to me.

"That's your schedule, student activity sheet, dorm information and key. If you have any questions feel free to call the number on the tab."

I nodded and left the table. I wasn't at all surprised to see that Gackt was gone, my bags left where he had been moments before. I crossed over to them as I looked through the files for my dorm number and found it behind a neon pink "Whipped Cream Bikini" flyer. I was in Zinan Hall and from the map I saw that it was on the other side of the campus. "Just great," I hissed as I heaved my bags into my hands and left the commons.

Fifteen tiring minutes later I stood outside my room, having climbed two flights of stairs because the elevator had been out of order. Several people called quick thoughtless hellos as they passed and I waved in return. I grabbed the key from the manila folder and thrust it in the lock and turned. With a few bumps with my shoulder against the door it opened and I stepped inside, flicking on the light as I went.

The room was small and furnished simply with two beds, two dressers and two desks. It was nothing like the high ceiled, large room I was accustomed to at home, but I was sure I could make it work. I hadn't brought much with me so closet space wasn't a problem. I placed both bags and my guitar on the bed closest to the window and began to unpack. It was then, while I was placing my clothing in the closet, that my roommate came into the room. He was short and round and his hair was bobbed around his ears. To be honest, he looked like a mushroom.

"Hello," I'm Chikato Hasu," he said holding out his hands as he stepped through the door. I crossed and shook his hand and noticed that his shake was limp. Not a good sign. My father's words came back to me. "A firm grip is a sign of a strong, confident man. A weak grip is a sign of frailty and stupidity." Well, he sure didn't look frail, more portly and I hoped he wasn't stupid. I unconsciously compared his grip to Gackt's. His had been firm and self-assured. Nothing like my roommate. I didn't quite know when I started taking notice of how people smelled but he smelled of old soud all-spice. I turned up my nose and turned back to my dresser. He took the bed near the door and began to unpack.

"How do you like it so far?" he asked quite louder than was necessary.

"It's a big campus," I said nonchalantly, my mind wondering around for what I should do next.

"I've been looking all over for eligible universities all over Japan. My family comes from a long line of wealthy aristocrats, so any college was fair play for me," he laughed smugly and continued. "I chose T.C.M because of their good reputation for turning out respectable musicians. I, myself, play the cello. My father tells me that that's the most difficult instrument to play and generations as far back as the fourteenth century Hasu's have played the cello with ease. A real accomplishment really…."

I nodded as he continued to speak, but I wasn't really listening. I couldn't bear to hear more of his naïve rant. He continued on as background noise as I gathered my mother's sheet music and the brown envelope I brought along with me and made for the door.

"I'll be back," I said as I stepped from the room. I didn't wait for a response.

I had seen a mail box when I arrived so I descended down the two flights of stairs and crossed to it, dropping the brown envelope inside. Hopefully the music would get to my mother before her birthday. I prayed for a speedy delivery.

I was at the top of the first flight of stairs when four girls barged down in front of me.

"Excuse me," I said standing aside letting them pass. They didn't seem aware of my presence as they continued on in light conversation.

"Guess who I saw tonight?" one asked.

"Who, Ai," another asked.

"Guess?" I continued to climb the stairs to my room.


"Nope. He was way cuter."

"Gackt Camui," one screeched. The girl nodded.

I missed stepped and almost fell on my face at the mention of his name. The girls, one floor down, looked up at me and sniggered before continuing on.

"He hasn't changed one bit. If anything he's hotter than he was last year." On that note they left the hall leaving me sprawled on my butt on the floor.

I pulled myself up on the railing, wiping the green carpet fuzz from my pants and continuing quite sheepishly up the stairs. So he was something of a God to the girls in this school. I could see why. He was charming to some extent and he did walk around with an air of confidence that I had only seen my father manage to pull off without looking like a complete fool. God, I was comparing him to my father! But that was who he reminded me of, though I wanted to deny it. He demanded attention when he walked into a room. Just an hour ago girls had swooned at his feet as soon as he walked into the room. It was like they could smell his pheromones. He did smell nice. His scent still lingered on my shirt.

As I entered my room I was happy to have Gackt's scent capturing my senses because the room now smelled of old-spice and cigarette smoke. My roommate lay on his bed, eyes closed, mp3 player ear piece in his ears. He patted the bed in rhythm with the song that now pounded in his ears. Smoke rings blew from his fat lips in tiny puffs obscuring his face in foggy haze.

Happy that I picked the bed by the window, I crossed to the frame and thrust it open, letting in the fresh air. It felt good as it blew against my fair skin. I rested my head against the window sill and sighed resoundingly to myself.

I wondered where he was now. He hadn't seemed at all concerned about my well-being when he left without me. But why should he? It wasn't like he was my father. I could handle myself. I should forget about him, but for some odd reason, I couldn't. He was the only person I knew beside my roommate; and I rather not know him if I could help it. People like him I shunned away from if it were possible.

To pass the time I looked down at the courtyard, it grounds covered in plush cherry blossom trees. A few stranglers walked toward the building, their luggage in tow. I saw a couple kissing near the entrance, their arms wrapped around the other in a lustful embrace.

But, what did I know about lust? I, who had never kissed anyone other than my mother on the cheek, and who had never been near a girl long enough to fathom touching her in that way, couldn't begin to comprehend what the couple below were feeling for each other. But, oh how I yearned to know what it felt like to be in someone's arms like that. Like any teenage boy, I fantasized about these things, but I had never thought of doing any of things my virgin mind hopelessly created in my minds eye. I was too timid.

'You're reserved, hesitant really.' Gackt's words came back to me as vividly as if he sat before me now. I closed my eyes against the gust of wind an inhaled the smell of the cherry blossom. I had denied his words at the time, but I knew they were true. I was afraid to let people in. I had been that way ever since I was five and my uncle, calling it a fun game, took hide and seek too far.

I didn't want to think of that. It hurt too much. Since that time I shunned those who tried to be close with me. It wasn't that I was afraid that they would hurt me like he had. I knew better than to think that. It was just that I preferred to be alone. It was only times like this, as I looked at the couple below the window, that I yearned for the embrace of someone that loved me. Would I ever find that source of solace? I hoped I would one day. But until that day I would consume my life with music. That was my orgasmic release.

I could hear the snores of my sleeping roommate behind me and now that the smell of cigarette smoke was gone I could close the window and go to sleep as well. I reached for the latch to hook the window to the sill and it was then that I saw him. Gackt walked, head bent toward the ground, hands in pockets, his guitar slung over his back, to my building. My heart jumped into my throat and butterflies fluttered madly inside my stomach. I watched him until he walked out of sight, the light produced and extinguished by the doors opening and closing telling me he was inside the building.

I snapped the window closed and as quietly as I could, left the room, closing the door behind me. I crossed to the banister and peered down and there he was in the lounge standing in front of the vending machine, his hands fumbling in his pockets for change.

I don't know what overcame me, but I dug in my pockets and pulling out a handful of yen, took the steps two at a time to the first floor. He heard my hasty steps and turned to watch my descent.

"Ah, Haido," he smirked cocking his head to the side. "We meet again."

I smirked and held out the change. "Here."

He looked at the change curiously before looking at my face and walking toward me. He took my hand in his own and balled my fingers into a fist. He pressed my hand against my chest and grinned. "Keep it." he said, his voice barely more than a growl. "I'm suddenly not hungry anymore."

He didn't wait for me to respond but sidestepped me and climbed the stairs, leaving me feeling quite lost. I turned and followed his ascent with my eyes. When he made it to the second landing he peered down at me.

"You coming?" he asked smiling.

I nodded and followed.

Author Note: So, did you like the story so far? I hope so. Please leave a review.