by Niimura Takehiko
Most days I wonder, whats the point? I work so hard everyday, and all it ever seems to get me, is more work. Im sure that people envy me, think Im living my dream and all that. When they look at me, they see a boy whos got everything, everything he ever dreamed of. But from this side the views not the same. Its as if the mirrors cracked, and everything is a twisted reflection of how it should be. And Im left watching, looking out from behind the broken glass, wondering when it all got so _wrong_.
Somehow hes got me all confused I dont know where I stand anymore. It used to be simple, I thought I felt nothing, that there was nothing between us. Just the comfort of a warm body, the comfort of someone youve known forever. Like a pair of jeans that youve had forever, perfectly worn in. I thought I could just throw them out, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I lived too much of my life with them to ever consider dropping them like that.
And that is why I have to. And that is why I hate him.
Because he makes it so hard to just forget him.
I know what I feel for the other one, hes like fire, he makes me feel... I dont know, like I could explode at any moment, my feelings are too much to contain. But I feel so strange sometimes when I feel _his_ eyes on me, it makes me angry. What right does he have to look at me like that? What right does he have to make me feel so _guilty_?
Why cant he just leave me _alone_?
Im staring at the mirror now, examining my reflection minutely, looking for some sign, any outward sign of whats going on. But I cant find anything. And I guess thats how it is when the world sees us, all of us together. They cant see all the little things, all the interactions going on under the skin. The perfect, flawless skin that is Dir en Grey.
Im so engrossed in examining my face that I didnt hear the bathroom door open. A pair of arms snaking around my waist doesnt distract me from my task, or a head resting itself on my shoulder. He blows in my ear, laughing at my reaction. I disentangle myself from his arms, and give him my most disapproving Look.
He gives me a cheeky grin, crooked teeth flashing, "Yes...?" He brushes my cheek with his lips, then hes gone, breezing out of the bathroom as silently as he entered. I follow with one last backwards look at the mirror. It sees everything that happens in there... but with one important difference: its backwards.
to be continued
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