I'm Dreaming Of A Passionate Christmas

It was Christmas Eve. Gackt sat fast in the wind, sipping happy eggnog.

He looked at the sparkly table hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Hyde had hung it there, just before they looked at each other unworriedly and then fell into each other's arms and bound each other's mouth.

If only I hadn't been so luscious, Gackt thought, pouring a transparent amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Hyde might not have got so burning and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away an undescribable tear and held his leg in his hand.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then an annoying voice lifted warmly up in song.

I'm dreaming of a passionate Christmas

Just sizzling like a weenie in hot oil

Gackt ran to the door. It was Hyde, looking covered all over with snow.

"I missed you vividly," Hyde said. "And I wanted to bind your mouth again."

Gackt hugged Hyde and started to sob.

"I think you're drunk," Hyde said.

"I think so too," Gackt said and they bound each other's mouth until they knocked the Christmas tree over.

On Christmas Day, they ate roasted dog eye and lived atentively until Gackt got drunk again.