Hey there, It's Dale again... this time, posting the bit of Moon Child-ish Gakuhai I wrote for Chip as a Christmas present. I got heavily inspired by ThouShaltNot's "Inside of You, In Spite of You" when writing this and... damn, and that's all I have to say, I guess. Read, review...but most of all, enjoy.

[Inside of You, In Spite of You]

Air. Lungs

The smell of him is everywhere. That distinctive smell of Platinum Egoist, expensive soap and otherworldliness… it permeates my skin and the sheets. I cannot shake it off, no matter how much I try.

It's in the air, it burns and soothes all the way from my nose down to my lungs, burrowing there and stealing my composure. I turn my head to bury it in the pillow. I want to block my airways to keep that scent from breaking my resolve down, but I can only hold my breath for so long.

I make the mistake of gasping for air against the pillow. His scent is there, stronger than anywhere else, except maybe my skin and my insides.

I gasp again. This time, though, because I need him. His scent takes over my mind and my willpower. All I want is to have his arms around me. All I want to do is breathe him in. Maybe that way I can carry him with me all the time.

I want him, his scent, inside of me, despite all my trembling protests and whispered no's.

Written. Spoken

The songs he writes…As time goes on, the creeping feeling that more and more of them are about me grows and it makes me feel conflicted. Songs about me, about us… about my stubbornness and my running away, even though there is nothing of actual consequence to keep me from giving myself to him.

Sure I have a wife and child, but who am I kidding? Since when does having a spouse stop anyone from being with someone else? It hasn't stopped others, so why should it stop me? I tell myself it's because I have morals, but since when? Since when do I do the right thing just because it's the right thing? Haven't I always done things because they suit me, because I want to?

Sure, I have a child, but I won't stop loving my child because I am not faithful to his mother. My child is still very much my child, no matter who I give my heart and body to.

His songs… they burn me. Even though his speaking voice is merely a soft murmur, his singing voice is powerful and loud. Where his spoken words caress me, his songs make me feverish. His singing voice torments me and confuses me; his speaking voice soothes me and makes me melt into pliable goo he can take and mold with his hands and kisses.

Everything about him makes me feel torn between extremes… no matter how much I deny it, I know I want him…

No matter what I tell myself to stay away, I know I want to run to him and not look back.

The longing is always present, the need is always there, he is always available for me…

What the fuck am I waiting for?

An invitation?

I never needed one, but I've always had one.

Synapses. Gun

His lips are cool, but his kisses burn.

His hands are soft, but I feel my skin peeling away, layer by layer, when he touches me.

When he undresses me, I feel undone piece by piece like some sort of artifact he wants to know how put together and take apart.

When he thrusts into me, his strangled groans ring like gunshots in my ears. I feel shot; I feel the impact ricochet up my spine, all the way to my head and I scream.

I scream and scream.

Not because it hurts, but because I want to be shot again.

Mystique. Memories

I can't seem to think of anything he does that isn't graceful, calculated, perfect. Just the mere mention of his name is enough to make thousands worship at his feet, sing his songs, scream his name with a fervor only reserved for gods.

Even his unguarded moments are without blemish. I don't think I can call him a human being when he seems so supernatural, so ethereal.

He loves with a passion that cannot be from this world. No one has ever looked at me with such intensity; no one had ever made me shiver so much with a single word.

No one has ever made me scream their name until my voice is gone and I get yelled at by Tetsu because I am not fit for band practice.

No one has made me lie so much about my whereabouts, my thoughts, my feelings.

I've never denied myself something that I want so much. I've never ignored such precious memories so much in my life. Every loving murmur, every dirty word, every kiss, every hug, every kind gesture…I have tried at times to forget, and just as I am about to, guilt comes rushing in and I am left struggling to keep it all in the forefront of my mind, to remember as vividly as I possibly can.

I need to keep these memories where I can always access them… they need to be my first line of thought.

Sun. Burn

After those heated nights between him and I, I always find myself sleepless around sunrise.

I always try to sit up and meet the new day with him next to me, slumbering away, but a certain shock runs like lightning through my whole body and I have to keep myself from whimpering before I fall back on the bed, unable to move.

The aftershock of our lovemaking always keeps me bound to the bed at sunrise. The sting of his passion where my insides are raw throbs through me, half exciting me, half hurting me.

But I don't mind the sting. If anything, I cherish it. I know I am going to want to feel it the rest of the day to remind myself of him… especially when my schedule carries me far away and I cannot have what I want when I want it.

All these feelings come to me at sunrise – the feeling of his imprint on my body, the feeling that I cannot get enough of him, no matter how much he gives me every time we are alone, the feeling that I cannot bring myself to move from the place next to him and walk away.

At sunrise, I long to meet the face of the sun with his buried against my neck, but I never do.

I always turn to look at his face, thinking that waking up to see his face first thing is better than waking up to the rays of the sun warming my skin.

The warmth of his body and his serene face are enough for me.

Future. Past

I think about our time filming "Moon Child" at least once a day. The infernal heat and the grueling filming schedule are but a mere inkling. But I surely remember him.

I remember him shooting his gun in the direction I told him to shoot.

I remember him taking a drag from my cigarette.

I remember him crying against my stomach as I held his head to my body.

I remember him doing cartwheels through the air.

I remember him crying on the phone telling me he couldn't go on alone, that he needed my help.

That scene always manages to break my heart.

Even though I knew it was on the script, I know the emotions behind it were true. Camouflaging those emotions into the film was his way of letting me know how much he needed me.

Kei had escaped to help Sho, just as I gave up my stupid game and went to him.

The night after that scene was a blurry mess of torn shirts and frenetic panting. It's in the past now.

All I have left is the past to comfort me and the future to fulfill me.

Echo. Shadow

It doesn't matter where I go or what I do, I always feel him there with me.

His presence doesn't haunt me as it once did, because now I welcome it. I no longer fear his presence in my thoughts; I have learned to benefit from it by using it as inspiration to be my best.

It gives me comfort to feel him near when he is far away; when we are both in different stages in different parts of the world. Even if the distance between bodies is great, I know he's thinking of me while he's giving the best of his talent to his fans… just as I am doing with my fans.

Being able to accept his presence in my every thought ultimately helps me to keep my sanity when I cannot have his arms around me and his mouth on mine.

I have gone from fearing the ghost to being fond of it. He's no longer a satanic presence inside of me. He's a welcome possession.

Heat. Fury. Fate.

I don't seek to make him jealous, but when it happens, I have to say I enjoy the consequences.

I would feel ashamed of rejoicing in that, but his burning love shines through so brightly that I cannot help but be amused when he gets jealous.

When he feels threatened, his touch gets rougher, but it never hurts me past the point of where it'll damage me. His kisses are more insistent, deeper; they seek to claim all of me a thousand times over all in one sweep of his tongue over mine.

His possession of my body seeks to defy all the laws of gravity and matter every time he feels jealous. He seems to want to grind his hips to mine to the point where he will be ground into fine powder and absorbed by my body. It almost seems he wants to fit all his six feet of muscle and power inside my tiny frame and never come out of there.

He won't be pacified until I scream that I am indeed his and that no one else can have me. Of course, I do it, reveling in the sick feeling that he owns every part of me and that I am more than accommodating to let him do so.

When I'm underneath him, I don't care which way is up… I don't care where things end and things begin. All I'm concerned with is bearing his delightful fury and letting it rain over me.

Architecture. World. Mind.

I've come a long way from spurning his advances and running away to accepting everything he is and does to me. I have let him plant the seed inside me and love for him has grown in my heart.

I never know what the next day might bring, but I always hope he will be there when I wake up.

And usually, he is.

A/N: I don't think I left her a dedication, except for "Enjoy!"... but that doesn't really matter. Anyway, I'm done here. Good fight, good night.