“Orders. From the top,” Gackt said, tossing a packet onto the table which sat off to the side in the studio and collapsing into a seat.

With a sidelong glance at his co-producer, Cha leaned forward and prodded the packet with his pencil. Looking up at the younger man he asked, “Is it wired with explosives or something?”

“It might as well be, considering what’s inside,” Gackt answered, a bitter laugh under his words. “They’ve given us a ‘project idea,’ and I’m not sure what to think about it.”

“What kind of project idea?” You asked as he gingerly set his guitar in its case and migrated over to the table, placing both of his long-fingered hands on the edge. Cha reached forward and picked up the packet, flipping through it.

“They figured that with all the recording for the drama, I haven’t had time to compose—”

“Which is true,” Cha chimed in. “Gave me time to actually sleep in on weekends, miraculously…”

“—and because of that,” Gackt said, leaning forward to prop his head up in his palm, his elbow resting on the table top, “they ‘strongly suggested’ that we do this Gundam project: rerecord the songs that they used for themes, then rearrange and cover some of the older ones.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t jumping at this one,” Cha mused, handing the file over to You, who took a seat beside him. Smirking, he tossed in, “Fanboy,” which made Gackt smile a bit.

“It would be kinda fun, I think,” You said, closing the file and tossing it on the table and sliding his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “I mean, it would give us more time in the studio and most of the work’s been done for us – the music is there already. We just have to…well, Gackt-ify it.”

“I didn’t realize I could use my name as a verb. Thanks, You.”

“You know what I mean. And I’m assuming there’s not a coinciding tour, correct?”

“No,” Gackt said, shaking his head, “no tour.”

“Then why don’t we do it?” You asked. After a moment he added, “I get the impression they said something to piss you off, and it’s coloring the entire idea for you.”

Cha turned his attention to Gackt and prodded the younger man’s arm with the pencil. “Spill,” he ordered, poking a few more times.

“I told them that if they were looking for some big, charts-breaking project, this wasn’t it.”

“And it’s not,” Cha agreed. “It’s too specialized to be that.”

“What did they say to that?” You asked.

Gackt felt his skin flush and lowered his eyes. He muttered, “They said that so long as my face is on it, it’ll sell.” He clenched his teeth and looked up at his friends. Shaking his head he continued, “Never mind the amount of work we put into these damn albums and tours, but so long as I still look good, that’s enough to sell? What the hell?”

Cha threw a glance at You which spoke volumes: He’s your lover. You deal with this one.

The violinist got the point. “Gaku,” he began, “They’re businessmen, not artists. They see us all as ways to get money in the bank. So long as we have fun and do our best, who the fuck cares what the guys in the office building think?”

“And if you don’t want to give them the satisfaction,” Cha said, grinning, “don’t put your face on the cover – just your name.”