title: timelines
author: infamouslastwords (u/1511143/)
genre: romance, angst
pairing: Miyavi/Mayatan, mentioned Maya/Aiji, Miyavi/OC
rating: NC-17
warnings: two men sexing, language, scenes of graphic sexual nature
summary: JROCK. miyavi x mayatan, mentioned mayatan x aiji, miyavi x oc. a story following miyavi's and maya's timelines as they intertwine and separate. MA MATURE CONTENT MALE/MALE RELATIONSHIP
comments: revamped for easier reading. hope you enjoy! P.S. I'm now accepting requests for fan fiction! Got a favorite slash pairing? PM me!

0.9 PROLOGUE

Miyavi, apparently, was told he had no need for a backup guitarist anymore; Or, for that matter, a backup band. He could play guitar himself at lives and a band hanging around was considered extra money to Universal.

Miyavi thought marriage, even if it wasn't in the most traditional fashion, meant compromise. Apparently that wasn't so when your partner was a record company.

Miyavi thinks that on the occasion of birthday celebrations, the object of celebration is supposed to be treated fairly, that people are supposed to respect said object because it is their day.

Universal must've not received the memo.

Sad songs play in his head, paired with the happy memories of his band on stage, his former guitarist with a foot on the frontal speaker next to him. Drums in the background, bass pulling through, and smiles- just wide smiles from Maya and himself. They fade to black slowly, like the ending to a movie that doesn't know how to end. It's torture to Miyavi, and that's why he does it.

Over and over and over and over and-

"People change when they get older, Ki-Ah," Maya states plainly, calling Miyavi by his Korean name. It is a phase the dirty blond is going through. Only this is not the Maya that Ki-Ah knows, because this Maya is without a large smile on his features. Without a spark in his dark eyes. Without a cause, especially when he's sitting across the table, a large pink birthday cake between them.

Miyavi frowns at the cake's candle-covered surface, his mind denying it. He isn't a year older. He can't be. He's too young to be twenty-five already.

"I know you have to be aware of that, Mr. Peter Pan Syndrome; A very unhappy birthday to you, right?"

There is no denying the harshness in those words, the cruel smirk hiding a deep line of sorrow and hurt.

He blows out the candles, not hungry for the sugar-spiked goo covering white cake.

A very unhappy birthday it is.