Dedicato a chi
colpevole o innocente
Perso in questo mare
Si e arreso alla
corrente
Chi non e mai sta
vincente
~ ~ ~
In ancient Greek myths and legends, there are
stories about
a group of sisters who periodically came down from
However, not all of the Muses were female.
~
The line was drawn incorrectly.
Hyde frowned and eyed the offending mark, trying to see what it was that irked him so much. Was the line leaning too far to the left? Was it too short? Too long? As he continued to assess his self-portrait, the flaw slowly became apparent to his critical gaze.
His lips twisted upwards in a semblance of a smile, and he snatched his eraser from the easel’s small supply holder, carefully erasing the very outer edge of the line. Once the mark had been thinned down to Hyde’s satisfaction, he leaned back to once again criticize the drawing. It wasn’t perfect—nothing of his ever was—but it would do.
“Amazing!” The young man’s reverie was broken by his art teacher’s surprised exclamation. He frowned and turned around, giving her his sulkiest look—she knew that he hated being interrupted while working on any of the projects she assigned the class. The teacher ignored him and continued on with her praise: “Oh, Hideto. It’s lovely, simply lovely. Did you take it home to work on over the weekend?”
“I couldn’t,” Hyde replied, giving up on the fact that the teacher wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He rolled his eyes, sighing, and continued. “I had to help my mom with the house—relatives coming over and all that. I was only able to work on it during class hours, Mrs. Clark.”
The woman blinked and stared at the self-portrait with wide eyes. “You mean that you were only able to work on this for four classes?” Hyde shrugged in answer when she finally directed her attention, once again, back to her student.
It was… startling. The self-portrait managed to capture the various nuances and layers that resided within Hyde’s face. The other art students, though talented, hid away those layers and drew their faces the way that they wanted themselves to look—perfect, flawless, blank doll faces gazing out at the world through soulless eyes.
Though Hyde’s self-portrait had some small mistakes here and there, the result was still stunning. No picture was perfect, but Mrs. Clark could easily tell that Hyde had tried his hardest to make the drawing perfect. A line thinner than it was supposed to be, a mark that was just a little bit off, all of the miniscule mistakes lent the picture character. Every small imperfection mirrored Hyde’s flaws and that… that made the self-portrait true to life.
She loved it.
She wanted it.
She needed it.
“What are you planning on doing with the picture once I’ve graded it and handed it back?” Mrs. Clark asked casually, still drinking in the portrait with hungry, greedy eyes.
Hyde shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know. It’s not as good as I had wanted it to be. Because of that, I’ll probably just toss it.” The teacher blanched at this, her breath hissing out in an angry exclamation. Hyde looked at her, puzzled. “Why? Did you want it? You can have it if you do want it. It’s rubbish, anyway.”
The contorted expression upon Mrs. Clark’s face smoothed over and she smiled beautifully down at Hyde. “I would be delighted to add it to my collection of student works, Hideto,” she replied. “I am, as you would say, a collector of ‘rubbish.’ Talented, gorgeous rubbish….” A finger trailed along the side of the portrait’s jaw and Hyde began to feel uncomfortable. He shifted on his seat, subtly trying to move away from his transfixed art teacher.
Mrs. Clark blinked owlishly, as if coming out from a deep trance. “Oh, my…” she whispered. “I was babbling again, wasn’t I?” She blushed delicately and began to walk away from Hyde and his station, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she did so, even now still attracted to the imperfect self-portrait. “I’ll come back later to check on your progress, Hideto.”
“Please take as long as you want,” the student muttered under his breath before turning back to his artwork, again eyeing it critically.
“It’s not their fault, you know,” an amused voice commented from his immediate right. Hyde jerked in surprise and his charcoal pencil slashed across his drawing’s face, ruining it completely.
“Who the hell are you?” the boy snarled angrily, switching his attention between this newcomer and his destroyed portrait. No amount of delicate smudging or gentle erasing would fix this—the drawing was permanently ruined, and it was all this man’s fault. “You fucking asshole,” he continued on, finally giving the intruder his full attention. “You ruined my self-portrait!”
“Ah, I did, didn’t I?” was the dry reply.
“How the hell am I supposed to fix this?!” Hyde began, starting his angry tirade. The blue-eyed man raised a hand, cutting Hyde off mid-curse, and then stroked his finger down the charcoal mark. As his finger moved down the accidentally made line, it slowly disappeared, fading away into nothingness. Hyde watched all of this in amazement, jaw dropped and mouth agape.
An amused gaze assessed Hyde and an elegant eyebrow was raised. He leaned his hip against the desk next to his new charge, smiling to himself. “If you aren’t careful, your face will freeze like that,” he drolled while the eyebrow was lifted higher.
“And your face will freeze like that if you aren’t careful,” Hyde shot back, snapping out of his reverie by the insult. “Besides… who the hell are you?! You fixed my portrait just by touching it! How the hell did you do that?!”
Gackt frowned at Hyde, lips pursing into an angry line. “Wasting your gift of words and lyrics on foul language is an insult to the person who granted you that gift, human. If you aren’t careful, that person might decide to take back your talent. Then how will you be able to finish those songs that you have tucked away under your bed, hmmm?”
Hyde opened his mouth to reply, paused, blinked, closed his mouth, and then opened his mouth again. For the second time, he blinked and paused, and just ended up opening and closing his mouth several more times, looking more like a koi fish than anything else.
Gackt chose to ignore this and returned his attention to the self-portrait that Hyde had been working on and that he had fixed. “It’s not their fault, you know,” he started, continuing where he had originally left off. “Humans, I mean. When a person is touched by the Muses, even though that gift has yet to be fully developed, other humans can’t help but desire the works that they produce, even if potential is the only thing currently being shown. You have great potential, Hideto. Your teacher can’t help but desire that.”
“How… how do you know these things?” Hyde whispered, stunned. “How did you know about the unfinished songs that I’ve hidden? I haven’t shown anyone those songs, so how could you have possibly known about them? Who are you?! What the hell are you?!”
Gackt smiled slightly in answer and hummed the beginning stanza to “Nessun Dorma,” then abruptly switched and began humming the opening to Così fan tutte. He paused for a moment, then began humming “Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds” by The Beatles. Still smiling that strange smile—so eerie and cold, yet it glittered with secrets and starlight—and then began to hum the opening lyrics to the song that Hyde had been working on for the past two nights in a row.
Once he was finished, Gackt leaned forward, brushing his lips against Hyde’s ear as he whispered, “You were planning on naming that song “Shutting From The Sky,” weren’t you?” he queried, tone sardonic.
“How do you know this?” Hyde asked, voice cracking.
Instead of answering conventionally, Gackt continued to hum rhythms from other songs that Hyde was working on. “This song will be named “Seppun.”” More humming, the cruel smile still dancing about his lips. “You’ll name this song “Fourth Ave Café.” And this one, this one your fans will adore. It’ll be called “READY STEADY GO.” If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll even use it for an anime series.”
“How do you know this? Who are you?!” Hyde asked again, wailing unhappily. No one else in the room turned around to give Hyde their attention—all throughout Hyde and Gackt’s exchange, the art class had ignored them both. Hyde had yet to take notice of this.
Gackt placed his hands onto the desk that he was leaning upon, pulling himself up so that he could be in a more comfortable seating arrangement. That done, he leaned forward, propping his chin in his cupped hands while his elbows rested on his knees. “Tell me, Hideto, have you ever daydreamed, allowing your mind to wander along pathways that you’ve always traveled down, but no one else knows exist?”
The young student blinked. “Yes…” was the soft reply.
“Tell me, Hideto,” Gackt continued, “while traveling down those same pathways, has something deep within you whispered, calling out to you, begging to be heard? Screaming, shrieking, cajoling, pleading—doing everything in its power to be heard….”
“Yes…. But… how do you know this?” Hyde breathed, voice still unsteady. He was on the verge of tears, shocked and bombarded with the impossible from all sides. He didn’t know how to react any longer—should he be angry, surprised, cynical? How was he supposed to react when he had never experienced… this… before in his oh-so very short lifespan?
Gackt’s eyes glittered, hardening into sapphires that glowed with an inner light. “And tell me, Hideto, have you ever listened to what the voice was telling you while in the middle of your daydream, only to wake up later with the incredible urge to write down—express in any way possible—the words that had suddenly appeared within your mind?”
For the very first time since the man had appeared, Hyde remained mute, refusing to respond. As Gackt watched him, tears slowly began to fall from Hyde’s dark eyes, crystal droplets that sparkled in the florescent light of the art room. Even in his despair, Hyde was beautiful.
How… How was it
possible that this man, this person or thing or creature,
that Hyde had never met before knew something so personal
about himself? How did this man know
what went on in Hyde’s mind as he wrote, as he drew?
The images, the voices, that whispered
through his mind, cool and refreshing, begging to be expressed in any
way that
Hyde was capable of accomplishing—these things were personal, something
that
Hyde had never shared with anyone else before.
So how….?
Gackt’s eyelashes lowered and his blue gaze became hooded. “You’ve studied Greek myths and legends in your World Literature, Hideto. You should know by now who I am. Mr. Carres made you read so many stories about my siblings that my identity should be apparent.” He tilted his head to one side and once again smiled that strange half-smile of his. “Don’t you know, Hyde?”
Hyde shivered at the nickname—no one had ever called him by that, though he often wished that people did, and it… disturbed him on some level. He didn’t know why, but it did.
“My name is Gackt Camui, Hyde. Think about it, won’t you?” With that said, the god felt that his transaction was finally finished. He leaned forward and brushed a quick kiss against Hyde’s lips.
Hyde squawked in response and fell of off the back of his stool onto the cold linoleum floor. Once the student was able to get over his surprise, he jerked his head up to look at the desk next to his art station, expecting to still see Gackt still sitting there, smiling his trademarked smile.
But desk was empty and Gackt was gone.
“Hideto! Are you all right?” Mrs. Clark exclaimed, hurrying over to her fallen student. “What happened to you? Did you fall off of your stool? Are you injured?” When Hyde didn’t respond, she snapped her fingers repeatedly in front of his face, trying to draw his attention away from the desk. “Are you all right, Hideto?”
“I… I don’t know,” was his honest answer.
*
~ Beginning quote is from Amici Forever’s song (and my favorite one by them), “Canto Alla Vita.” The music is by Antonio Galbiati and Giuseppe Dettori; lyrics are by Cheope. “Nessun Dorma” is a song from Turandot, which is by the composer Giacomo Puccini (whom, I believe~, also wrote my favorite opera, Madame Butterfly). Così fan tutte is by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart—one of the most famous songs in this composition is “Soave Sia Il Vento.” (Hn. I was actually able to finally incorporate Mozart into one of my stories. Props to me~ XD)
to be
continued...