The first time it happened, I'd just officially separated from Colby. My wife. Names and dates don't really matter, since it's all a big blur when you're dying, but that was her name. It is her name, sorry. I forget sometimes that not everyone's dead just because I will be soon.

We were in the middle of writing and recording Affirmation, our second record, over in Wallyworld, San Francisco. Oh…I'm getting ahead of myself. The long and short of it? I was in a band. Savage Garden. Born and bred in Brisbane, Australia. I had a fantastic musician and bloke for a band mate. His name's Daniel, and in spite of everything we've been through, he was worth it. He was always worth it…until I forgot he was. But again, too fast.

Things were different then, it was like the turning point of our relationship. Maybe even our career. Our first album was pure and naïve and it didn't matter how much money it made, because we always had that apartment in Sydney and the rice cakes with peanut butter and bananas. We were on this precipice and we both felt it. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff with a glorious wind swirling around you, except without the knowledge that at the bottom of the cliff lay pain and death. And you want to know so badly that the curiosity alone could propel you down.

When we fell, it was the most incredible trip of our lives. Of course there were bumps along the way, but it wasn't as if we weren't expecting them. We realized our own frailties, our limitations, and we respected them. At least I thought we had, until one day I found out in the rudest possible way that I never had a clue about Daniel at all.

You have to understand…Daniel is your typical bloke, a man's man. He's into the outdoors, but he likes the quiet life. Give him a beer and a lazy afternoon with his mates over prying media and flashing bulbs. Give him a raucous night at the pub, flirting with beautiful, careless women, over an arena of screaming teenage girls. He never married and in fact broke it off with his girlfriend of 14 years, which should have told me something.

But despite his obvious strengths and his inherent stubbornness, what I didn't know about Daniel is the sheer magnitude of what he was willing to sacrifice for his dreams…for our dreams. I didn't know until he told me, shouted it at me in the hushed tones he uses when he's really lost his way. He couldn't take it anymore, couldn't do it anymore. At the time, the blinding hurt betrayed my already scarce logic and numbed it with emotion.

I thought, what? He couldn't take being away from his beloved girlfriend? His dogs? His home? Well, what about me?? It wasn't all roses for me either! Or was it me that he couldn't take? Fear was all I felt, until in my half-attention I picked up on one of his complaints…his intense dislike of dealing with the media. And that fear drove me to beg and plead and char my pride. I made promises that day. I took his burden from him, but burrowed deep within those promises was a disease filled with pain and resentment and I never saw it coming. Neither did he.

When we had our break after the first tour, our songwriting had gone long distance. I moved to the States, he stayed at home. In the new age of electronic communication, it was easy to pretend that it didn't change anything. But I never had those rice cakes when I was alone. So finally, when he flew the distance - did I mention he hates to fly? - and we were together again, things eventually settled down. In retrospect, that Daniel's favourite song on the second album is one we wrote face-to-face, heart-to-heart, that should have told me something too.

But being lonely all that time, despite never being physically alone, it took its toll. I was used to my Yea-Sayers and Daniel has never been one of them. I was flippant, I was loud, I was demanding. I'd gotten so used to the American lifestyle and mentality that I didn't realize I'd changed. I was much more aggressive as well; my marital status and the rampantly free homosexual community of San Francisco were to thank for that.

Daniel seemed to take it all in stride with his usual careless laughter. Then, one day I made the mistake of missing a scheduled writing session with him. I scrambled out of bed that morning at the sound of my doorbell insistently being rung. I shrieked at our producer's personal assistant to get his arse out of my bed and out of my house. It was a bit comedic in a prime time sitcom sort of way. He grabbed his clothes and was barely half-dressed when I rushed him out the back door. And attempted to look sufficiently ill (which I didn't think I'd have to feign) for when I opened the front door.

But Daniel's no one's fool, let alone mine. He gave me a sceptical and curt once-over; I swear his eyes left scars on me. Then he abruptly grabbed me by the arms and 'guided' me rather roughly backwards. He slammed the door shut with his foot and with his jaw set, complete with ticking muscle, he pointed out flatly, "You smell like sex."

Before I could even overcome my sheer humiliation enough to respond, he'd steered me to the toilet, and shoved me towards the shower. He gave me one last look of disgust and strode out. When I came out, freshly clean, I saw he'd stripped the bed of its linens and lay down a new set. He was standing at the window, arms somewhat crossed, his back turned to me. I dressed quietly and when I was ready to go, he sixth-sensed it and turned to level me with a look both intense and impassive.

I waited. The air got really thick, and I knew this was another precipice, a more dangerous one. And as if he didn't think I was nearly nervous enough, he advanced with meaningful steps until he was breathing out through flared nostrils close enough that the air brushed my face. His voice was low, and I still remember the chills.

"This is our bed."

I didn't understand, and my eyes must have reflected it, because the look changed from impassive to impatient.

"This is our bed…and we have to lie in it." My eyes nervously flickered to my bed, even though I knew he was speaking metaphorically. "Do whatever you have to do. I do…every day. It's hard; I get it. But it's our bed. And maybe I forgot once, but I want to lie in it."

He grabbed my arm again so suddenly that I nearly choked on air, but my eyes, though they must have been wide and scared, were back on him. The smallest and yet the most powerful snarl was delicately distorting his mouth.

"I want to lie in it." He repeated harshly, and then his eyes became hooded as he reminded slowly, "So do you."

And then it happened.

For the longest time, I tried not to think about what motivated him that first time, or what I felt when it happened. I think like everyone, I wanted the fantasy, the happy-ever-after. But it wasn't in the cards, and deep down I always knew that. Besides which, I thought it didn't matter what it started as; that what really mattered was what it turned into. I knew lust was sometimes an ugly thing, but it had never been so ugly as when it was coupled with control.

Sometimes, when I let my mind drift, I remember the hunger that first time and how different it was. How it didn't frighten me. I remember Daniel's mouth and how it moved with purpose, as if propelled to know everything I'd never told him. I remember when in my desperation, I bit into his shoulder, and how he tasted like sun-warmed fruit but still sharply male.

I remember how he looked down at me with incandescent eyes, glowing like spun gold from the sunlight that always seemed unable to resist touching him whenever it could. And I remember his tired and contented words: "This is our bed." Then the fleeting radiant ghost of a smile and the strength of the arms that eventually held me.


~Chapter Two~

But the memory is soon overpowered. It flashes forward in time, and changes Daniel's face so subtly and so terribly that it makes me want to weep. I may even whimper aloud because the nurse that's just come in looks up from her chart with a startled hope. Still, she sighs in defeat when the monitors don't show any change. For a moment I feel guilty, but the moment passes. As it usually does.

How do I know? It's bizarre actually. I can't hear a goddamned thing, but though my eyes are closed, I can see what's going on within a certain vicinity. It's like my spirit is hovering in watch over my body, deaf. But again I digress.

To be completely honest, if our connection hadn't changed the way it did, I think I might have self-destructed. I owe Daniel a lot because of that. He was my grounding cable. And the problem was never the way he grounded me, because we both inherently needed that. The problem was it sometimes felt like I was imagining what happened between us to begin with.

I tried not to over-think things, or question Daniel as a person, his sexuality and what not. But it was bizarre when he would get together with his mates and they'd make fun of gays in their non-malicious way. It was peculiar when he'd go out to the clubs and come home (to my house that is) smelling of cigarette smoke and women's perfume. He'd always shower thoroughly, no matter how drunk he was, and then find me in 'our bed' and fuck me through the mattress.

I know. 'No, don't romanticize it, Darren. Tell us the truth!' Despite your sarcasm, that's what he'd do. And the morning afters were always abnormally normal. He'd laugh and joke and tease like he always did. But as the frequency of our…sessions increased, things became even more peculiar. Suddenly there was an underlying edge to him and sometimes I would catch him with this incredibly ravenous look in his eyes.

One time, I was stupid enough to be caught staring and trying to puzzle out that look. I'll never forget the way he bared his teeth in a disturbing parody of a smile. I'll never forget how much it hurt to even stand, let alone walk, that whole week. Don't get me wrong…it was never unwilling, although I did once curiously eye a pamphlet about mentally abusive relationships. Fruitlessly I might add.

It was just that sometimes it was scary…he was scary. Sometimes he was too intense. But it was mostly that he was frustrating, because I never understood where, or why, or what he thought about when he thought of us. Or really when he thought about anything!

Because the bottom line was-. Look, essentially Daniel and I had sex. He was always in control, if you catch my meaning. He never acted anything but straight. We never talked about it, and even though sometimes it felt like there was more than just lust there, a lot of the time there was something even more base. Because quite often, he'd bait me, sneer at me when I started losing touch with reality, and then he'd fuck me senseless. As if to curb me; to control me.

It would confuse me to the point of timidity and it felt like that's what he wanted, because he would be completely to character afterwards. I didn't know how right I was until much later.

This continued right into the album release and when I began performing more of the promotional tour duties. It was exhausting, and it soured my mood more often, which of course resulted in rather rough administrations from Daniel. I was a zombie, barely getting any sleep, but if I'd had a choice, I would have given up sleep entirely if it had meant I'd be allowed to continue making lo-…having sex with Daniel. He was beautiful, he was incredible and…

And I loved him. I'm in love with him. When the realization eventually hit, I was in the middle of an interview and my automated response hiccupped just slightly. This had been just weeks after Daniel and Michelle had finally ended their tragic on-again, off-again relationship. Ironically, it had also been mere days before he'd begun dating Kathleen more openly. He'd met her earlier in the year, but I hadn't known…well, but then I think we've established that I didn't know Daniel at all.

Confused again, and sick with love, I jealously watched as their relationship progressed in front of the media. He came to me, or rather after me, less and less, but it didn't stop me from taking what I could. The edge in his eyes ebbed, which I felt slightly relieved about but it only increased my resentment towards Kathleen. So I did the only thing I could, heartsick and lonely, confused and stressed beyond my limits…I started fucking anything that crossed my path. Man or woman.

I don't know if I thought it would make Daniel jealous or at least propel him to give me that physical lecture about 'our bed' again, but in any case it didn't work. If anything, he spent more time away from me under the pretext of prepping the band. When the concert tour rolled around, he and I were barely communicating, though there was no tension. There never really was with Daniel, unless he instigated it. I could be as bitchy as I wanted, and he would just smile and shake his head.

The only time I got any sort of reaction from him was when I'd allowed a rather talented hair stylist to go down on me. (I hired Troy later, though his sense of style needed work.) Daniel walked in on us, and his smile dimmed only so slightly. He snorted with exasperation, "God, Darren!" Then turned on his heel, and never brought it up again. That's a trend, I'm sure you've noticed. When he strode into my hotel room that night, he was strangely gentle. He spent at least an hour simply brushing his lips against my skin, whispering my name. It was the closest we've come to…it was odd, in any case.

Oh God, it's Leonie. She's going to sit there and babble for a few hours (which thankfully I won't be able to hear) and then cry until her face is blotchy and incredibly unattractive. Don't get me wrong, I love her to death, but it's not like I don't know that she was everything that was wrong with me for a time. She was my number one Yea-Sayer and part of me wonders if she really cares whether or not I die, or if she cares more that she's out of a cushy job.

That's cruel I know…she just…she reminds of the last time…


~Chapter Three~

The last time we were together. It was during the tour, this one night somewhere in the wilds of America. We were playing some ridiculously small venue in a tourist town that had semi-decent beaches (for freshwater that is), and a thousand beachside resorts crowded along them. We stayed in the largest hotel in town, which made it extremely easy for fans to find us.

We wasted the day walking down to the beach and enjoying the sunshine. It was the closest I'd ever felt to normal in a long time; if normal is dark and extremely aware of reality, that is. Though Leonie was with us and I wasn't quite up to being my normal hyperactive self, Daniel blithely chattered on about the music he was working on, the band he was looking to produce and how fantastic life was. It would have been odd I think, for a fan to step in at that moment and see us like that. The interminably self-centred Darren Hayes sitting quietly soaking in the energy his always-quiet band mate Daniel Jones was generating. With the nepotistic personal assistant holding her tongue for once and letting said band mate bask in his own good fortune.

The short time we sat at that picnic table was enough to work my heart into an aching slab of need. I wished Leonie would leave and the world would disappear so that I could lean over the table and just touch his hair with the tips of my fingers. I knew Daniel would stop in mid-sentence, cock his head to the side with a curious smile and let some of his happiness melt away my dark humour.

The few times I'd worked up the courage to go to him without using my temperament as a lure, he'd always laughed, hooked an arm around my waist and kissed me soundly on the mouth. Then he'd nipped at my lips, my jaw, my neck; all my most sensitive places until I'd been reduced to gasping his name and trying to focus unseeing, wantonly blurred eyes. I knew that this time wouldn't have been any different, public place or not. It was a stark contrast to the grim satisfaction he wore whenever he was on the hunt.

But I was made to wait, and as the three of us laughed at some inane joke on our way back to the hotel, I saw Daniel glance at me with a happy sparkle in his eye. The seed that I had planted in myself finally took root, I think, at that moment. But I was still thankfully unaware of it, only mildly noticing that Daniel's bliss seemed to make my chest tighten instead of relax. I didn't even wait until after the concert; as soon as we'd all parted ways in the hotel, I sought out his room.

When he opened the door, already grasping the headset for his portable studio in his hand, I suddenly had nothing to say. My normal indicator had been something inconsequential such as "Can I…borrow your…shampoo?" But for the first time, I stood speechless, hungrily eyeing his windswept hair and questioning eyes. I took a small hesitant step forward and the air thickened even as my muscles tensed.

"Darren?" As soon as he said it, with all that molten concern dripping from him, I launched forward and bit him on the mouth. He made a startled noise of pain, but as soon as he regained his balance after staggering back a little, he was completely game. I think I would say it was the most intense time we were together, which I suppose is fitting.

To go along with all the other firsts, it was also the first time I kept my eyes open, albeit forcibly. I just wanted to sear into my memory the image of Daniel completely surrendering to this, as something to counter the strangeness of the amused apathy inevitable for the 'morning after'. I wasn't prepared for the searing emotions that flickered through his glittering eyes. The lust torn by exhilarated need; the ever-present amusement; but most of all, the unexplained combination of anger and sadness that lay mostly hidden in his irises.

Promising myself in the haze of my passions to talk to him properly afterwards, I gave myself up to the mindless sensations. When I woke later, I jerked to look at the time, worried that we'd be late for the concert. Relieved to see we had plenty of time, I searched around for Daniel and eventually spotted him on the balcony. I crept out of bed with a wicked thought and smile, but as I neared the partially open sliding door, my perpetual bubble of happiness popped.

"Kat, you know I miss you, don't torture me like this…I would love for you to come here, but you've got obligations…He's doing great, we both are…I know. The tour will be over soon enough, and then we'll have plenty of time…I promise, I promise…I love you too. God, what would I do without you?" The latter, I knew was not heard by Kathleen and perhaps not intended for anyone to hear.

Thankfully Daniel simply lay his phone down on a chaise, and seemed content to gaze out at the world. I recoiled back silently and swiftly escaped to the toilet for a great bout of dry-retching. I don't know what I thought would change, it's not like she would just disappear. I guess I thought I'd give my best and it would be enough…it wasn't.

So we stopped. It wasn't anyone's choice really, not even mine. I didn't avoid him at all, just began to treat him like I treat everyone, as a necessary amusement and sometimes irritation. As he usually treated me. He didn't seem rattled by it, although initially there was confusion…I like to think I affected him at least that much. It was my lack of importance that finally proved to be potent fertiliser for the Disease, as I call it.

When it struck full force, the resentment, the anger, the hurt, I didn't completely understand why, but it gave me a driving motivation to make this tour the best tour we could have. By this time, I'd fully accepted that this would be our last tour ever, that Savage Garden was destined to fall, that I would have to keep my promises after all. It was all fodder for my despair and yes, hatred.

Everyone experienced my bad humour and wrath at some point during that tour. I was labelled all sorts of things, the least abusive of which was 'diva'. I didn't care; I'd stopped trying to make people love me, and those that did genuinely love me were hard-pressed to stomach me for long.

By the time that last concert ended, I was glittery and saturated with fame, fortune and self-importance. Daniel had essentially thrown himself into creating his production company Meridienmusik. He'd already begun working with his new band, one you may know as Aneiki but was called Halogen at the time.

Kathleen had in fact come to visit for a while, but I had no concept of their on-going relationship. And for once I wasn't even curious. But I was incredibly pissed off. How dare he simply move on??

As we sat there having dinner, Leonie, Daniel and I, my ire continually reached new plateaus...he was blissfully unaware of my brooding glares and even of Leonie, who at least had the presence of mind to reach over from time to time and squeeze my hand reassuringly.

Subsequently after our last concert ever, Leonie acted as my go-between and mentioned to Daniel that I wouldn't mind putting the band on official hiatus for a while. Just to allow the band room for growth, she said. I'm surprised her breath doesn't smell of feces, honestly. Daniel agreed wholeheartedly. Bastard, I thought at the time. In the next few months, I managed to mostly avoid Daniel, since he spent much of his time on the other side of the planet. But a couple of times, meeting was unavoidable.

One of these times, my emotions got the better of me. I'd already met Aneiki, in fact Jen Waite, the lead singer, had been our backing singer during our first tour. But I'd had no idea Grant Wallis, the other half of Aneiki, would be so...he was so much like Daniel in personality it made my throat close up with furious jealousy. They bonded like Daniel and I never could have, even finishing each other's sentences when it came to musical things.

As such, I was understandably rude to him and when Daniel looked at me reproachfully, I walked out of his barbecue, leaving Leonie to stutter excuses for me. That night, I had a dream of Grant chasing me, trying to kill me. Everyone assumed it was artistic jealousy. I let them.

When Sony approached me with the idea of doing a solo record, something they'd done in the past but I'd turned down, I accepted. I wanted it; to prove that I could survive without Daniel; that I could thrive without Daniel. I threw myself into it, and after a while the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach was no longer pent up frustration, but excited nerves. It was during this process that I was finally able to let go of Savage Garden and Daniel. I was really ready to move on.

What happened next some people might not understand, or believe. I had a hard enough time explaining it to my family. My sister, Tracey, in particular couldn't understand why I did what I did. That's her, the tiny blonde that's just come in. Sometimes I wish I hadn't done things the way I did, but mistakes are made for a reason. Not that it was completely a mistake. I just regret hurting so many people. At the time though, I was glad I had, even unintentionally. Misery loves company, after all.


~Chapter Four~

I'm glad that Tracey and Leonie seem to have gotten much closer since I've been in this place. They comfort each other and I'm sure they're reminiscing about stupid things I've done. They didn't like each other all that much at the start, I think it was almost a territorial thing because they're both my sisters, but in different ways obviously. I know I know…I'm stalling.

Basically what happened was that by late September of that year, I had already begun doing some promotion on my solo album, though it wasn't ready. Aneiki on the other hand was on the verge of releasing their first single, which meant that Daniel would be out and about with the media. He had been rather quiet since the hiatus began, so I'm sure fans were looking forward to that. I had a scheduled interview with Cameron Adams, a bloke at the Herald Sun. I barely knew him, but I'll never forget his name now.

As I was sitting there talking to him, I noticed that among his notes were various article clippings. I saw one that had Daniel's picture, and I interrupted his inane question about the hiatus to ask if I could see the article. He nodded curiously, but perked up immediately when he saw my expression change dramatically from mildly interested to almost sick. The article was entitled "Garden of Love" and had been printed earlier in the year, just prior to the APRAs, an event that I had not attended.

Needless to say, despite all my knowledge of the media's ability to twist a person's words, it was still a kick to the gut to read that Daniel had decided to "base himself permanently in Australia" because he was "so smitten with" Kathleen. And his quote regarding their relationship: "She's just a beautiful little person, we're very happy." It was enough to make me retaliate from sheer pain.

So I told Cameron Fucking Adams that Savage Garden was done, over, finished. I simpered and talked about how it was a great time in our lives, but that we'd gone our own ways. I made sure to add that Daniel had initially been the one to make this move, because of his dislike of the media and of being away from home. It wasn't a lie. Just the same, the timing of it was bad, and once it was all out of my system, I did feel large pangs of regret. So I made Cameron Fucking Adams promise not to leak it for a couple weeks, at least until I'd had time to speak to Daniel.

Of course, never trust the media. Perhaps he wouldn't have leaked it if he couldn't have timed it deliciously with Aneiki's first single debut. In any case, instead of talking about his fledgling new band, Daniel was barraged with questions and phone calls about the break-up. Still, I clung to my blasé attitude about the whole thing, deflecting calmly to Daniel whenever anyone tried to question or blame me. I played the victim with respect to the interview being leaked…because I genuinely was. But when I heard Daniel doing interviews, sounding as if this had been dropped on him from left field, I was furious.

I avoided him like the plague for a few days, instead getting Leonie to speak to him. I had luckily gotten her to call him in advance of his first phone call regarding the mess, to try and get him to understand it wasn't what it sounded like. But as time progressed it quickly became exactly what it sounded like. Savage Garden was done. I felt relieved, truthfully.

When I finally called him, I apologized and even sounded like I meant it. I couldn't imagine that he'd be so upset about it, and listening to that one B105 interview, it made him sound so heartbroken. But over the phone, directly, he responded with his usual good humour and my guilt was mostly alleviated.

Until I got a phone call from Tracey. Apparently in her confusion, Chris Jones had called up my mum and asked her about the whole thing. I hadn't told my family even and they were beyond furious. Tracey in particular was irate. She and Chris had spoken directly, and apparently Chris had been quite upset. The reason being that Daniel had come home out of the blue and simply hugged her for a good half hour, shedding dispirited, silent tears. The image in my head alone was gut-wrenching. When Tracey was through calling me all sorts of selfish and insensitive, I hung up on her and ignored subsequent phone calls. For the first time in my life, I hated myself and it had nothing to do with self-esteem.

I have to be honest. I never expected Daniel to feel so hurt by what I did. And there I was torn between self-righteous indignation and desperate guilt. I hated that somehow, despite everything, I was the bad guy in all of this. Is it my fault that I fell in love with him? Normally, I'd say yes, but he was the one that changed our relationship and never said why. Granted I never asked.

I thought that he would probably get over it, but I don't think he ever truly did. Every time I spoke to him after that fiasco, he always seemed a little distant, even more the casual, smiling stranger. I never saw the sparkle in his eyes again…but then I never saw his eyes directly for a long time.

Eventually I think we got as normal as we could, and I'd like to think we forgave each other. But we still never really talked about what happened; not with our peculiar arrangement nor with the break-up. My solo career helped me pull my focus away from it until there was only a dull throb in my chest whenever someone brought it up. I patiently sat through all the interviews that inevitably strayed onto the topic, ironically willing to lie in the bed that I made for myself.

Daniel gradually began to fade from my mind, or rather was pushed from it by the frantic lifestyle I led. From time to time, I'd hear about his goings-on, but I knew that unless it was forced, our paths would never cross again. He faded from my mind, but I was delusional to think I could make him fade from my heart.

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