Ma Cherie: Chapter Four
Author: Scarlet Kozi
Once Mana left, Gackt realized that he could not stay home. He had still been recovering from his beating from that client, from the stranger, and now, he was injured again ... by Yoshiki. He felt ashamed of himself, and completely, utterly miserable. He could barely think straight. If he didn't care as much as he did for Yoshiki, then he would have attacked him ruthlessly ... He would have wanted to beat Yoshiki until he felt the way that Gackt had to feel, all the time, after HE was beaten. But Gackt knew that he would never be able to stand up to Yoshiki, not completely.
Gackt sat there on the floor alone for a long time, unable to move, unable to think. Then he crawled over to a pile of clothes and pulled out one of his dark kimono.
It was a pretty one, and since it was newer it was cleaner and less roughed-up than most of his others. It was colored in crimson and scarlet, with a shimmering pattern showing a sunset near the hem of the skirt. The obi was equally pretty, and was slightly longer than most of Gackt's others. But Gackt barely noticed. He took off his jacket and put on the kimono, his motions unsteady and his mind unclear. It was so hard to function when one's face was burning up and one's mind was wracked with grief and pain.
Once he was dressed, he went outside. It was foolish to leave without a coat, especially considering that the formidable clouds he'd observed when with Klaha had developed into a full-fledged storm.
It was pouring. It was only supposed to be around the time of the sunset, as on Gackt's kimono, but the dark clouds made it seem like midnight. It was nearly black, a frightening sight, and showers of heavy, pounding rain were falling and soaking everything they came into contact with. There was the occasional roll of thunder, like an angry grumble, and a flashing burst of lightning to illuminate the darkness.
It served little to help Gackt's mood. Without thinking, he walked along on the street in search of liberation from the memories of what had happened in the apaato, of Yoshiki, of hide, of his mother, of his pain. He kept going without a jacket and found himself leaving the slums.
It was only a block's distance from the slums to the river, after all. And he found himself at the riverbank. At the bench, where one could look at the water and the bridge.
Gackt slowly lowered himself onto the bench, wincing with each movement, almost falling down onto it. He had seen Klaha there that very day, hadn't he? But earlier seemed like years ago. Not years, but a very long time. As rain poured onto him, soaking him, dampening his hair and drenching his clothing, making it stick to his skin, Gackt sat there in a fog.
Such stupid behavior, of course, made him catch a chill. And he remained there feverishly until Klaha reappeared.
Klaha had been about to go home after seeing Gackt, but had been unable to banish thoughts of the other boy and his story from his mind. He had turned around and started to come back, when the rain began to come. He'd wanted to go to Gackt's apaato and find him, but had stopped by here, and that was when he saw him: a slender figure dressed in a kimono, sitting almost absently on the bench, with water running down his chin-length brown hair into his face as he just stared at the water, clearly in pain but somehow unable to really realize it yet.
Klaha rushed over to him in alarm. "G-Gackt?"
There was no response at first.
Questions whirled through Klaha's mind. Why was Gackt dressed like this, sitting here? Why did he look so strange? Klaha dropped his umbrella and bag, and immediately sat next to Gackt, leaning close to him in order to observe him, though the rain clouded his vision.
"Nani?" he gasped. Gackt was injured.
Klaha had no idea what had happened to him, but clearly, it was something horrible. His cheek was a dark pink color, standing out from the rest of his pale skin. His eyes were glazed over as they stared ahead beneath those long eyelashes, apparently shrouded with pain. There was a bruise forming up near his eye, and a trickle of blood was running down from his nose, onto his lips. Despite all this, despite Gackt's unsteady hands as he had dressed, his kimono and obi were perfectly arranged over his body, to show how much experience he truly had. Even when he was in such a state, he managed to come through it and dress himself suitably.
"What happened to you?" Klaha demanded, flooded with worry and panic.
Gackt shook his head dully, confused.
Klaha grabbed him, even though Gackt winced at the sensation of his touch. Klaha knew that he was making Gackt uncomfortable, Gackt who never seemed to like to be touched, but he couldn't help it. Nor could he explain how terrified he suddenly felt, how hurt, to see Gackt like this. He put his hands on Gackt's shoulders and turned the other boy slightly to face him, as they sat side by side. "Tell me," he begged. "What's happened? Who did this to you?"
Gackt was too fuzzy to think straight. However, something inside him yelled at him not to say anything. He wouldn't talk about it, or tell Klaha who it had been. He began to open his mouth, as though to speak, but that same internal voice made him close his lips and shake his head again.
Klaha finally gave up and sat there staring at him, clutching Gackt's hand ... Gackt's hand, which was growing limper.
Klaha recognized as the rain poured onto both of them, him now too because he'd abandoned his umbrella, that Gackt couldn't be by himself. He needed help, needed to be tended to. Something in Klaha wanted to be the person who tended to him, but he knew that wasn't right. He slid his arm around Gackt's shoulders, starting to support him, and said, "I'm going to take you home, Gackt. I'll walk you there."
Gackt shook his head immediately. A dull expression of bitterness came into his eyes as he slumped against Klaha, and now, he clutched Klaha's arm tightly, gazing up at him. He was disoriented, but there was a new emotion in his eyes that stood out, showing that he could not, would not, go home. "No," he murmured hotly. "No. I won't go back there, I won't. You're not going there ..."
Klaha looked down at him, confused. Finally he heaved a helpless, disturbed sigh. He decided, biting his lip, that he would have to bring Gackt home with him. He would have wanted to find someone like Shinya to care for Gackt. He had met Shinya briefly and knew that he had tended to Gackt before, but Klaha had no idea where Shinya lived. Yoshiki, of course, was out of the question. Klaha knew that the man wasn't the sort who would probably be good at caring for another individual. Besides, Gackt clearly wasn't going to have anyone take him home. He didn't want to go home, and that was that.
The only option left was to bring Gackt to Klaha's house, to take care of him there. Too many questions were left alone and unanswered. Who had beaten Gackt? How could anyone do such a thing? Why did Gackt flinch so strangely when Klaha touched him? And why wouldn't Gackt let Klaha bring him home?
Klaha wasn't quite as tall as Gackt, and he wasn't extraordinarily strong, but somehow, he knew he could do this. He slid off the bench and then carefully leaned down, not sure how to go about this. "Help me out, Gackt."
Gackt weakly tried to give in to Klaha and give him assistance. Klaha slid one arm beneath Gackt's legs, supporting him from under his knees even though Gackt gave a shiver to be touched there. At the same time he put his arm behind Gackt's back, and with a great intake of breath, aware that he had to brace himself with his legs, he hefted Gackt up. He gasped, but found that Gackt wasn't too heavy. "Don't struggle," he managed.
Gackt murmured, his head falling against Klaha's shoulder. "Iie ..."
Gackt's skin was slick and wet, very cold against Klaha's body. Water was running down his hair. Klaha stared down at him for a moment, then realized that waiting and letting Gackt get even more wet wasn't going to help him at all. Also, Gackt's kimono was becoming drenched.
Klaha found a way to grab his umbrella and stick it between them so that it held itself up, sheltering them from the rain. Then, cradling Gackt's body against him, he walked home, his bag dangling from his other hand. It didn't take too long, because indeed, he didn't live that far off, even though it seemed as though it was an entire universe away.
He awkwardly punched in the code at the gate, and went up the lane. When he was at the step, he found a note upon the door.
"As we mentioned, Yoromoshi-san and his wife recently moved into a new house, in Kyoto, and invited us to see it. They wanted to give us a tour and ask our advice about decoration. We decided to go today instead of next week, but there is supposed to be a storm, and we will most likely have to stay overnight and come home on the train tomorrow afternoon. Please don't worry. ---Okaasama and Otousama"
Klaha almost smiled to himself. Bitterly, because his parents spent more time away from home than at it, and contentedly, because he didn't want to see them anyway.
He managed to get inside and shut the door behind him, and slip off his shoes. He was dripping, and so was the umbrella. But clearly Gackt was the most soaked. Klaha looked down at him worriedly as he stood in his hallway. Gackt seemed half-conscious, almost asleep, and wasn't looking at him. 'Does he know what's going on?' he wondered sadly. 'I can't believe this ... What's happened to him?'
Klaha went down the hallway, clutching Gackt protectively as though demons of some unseen variety would spring up from beneath the elaborate floorboards and try to steal him from him. He didn't know why all of a sudden his heart was beating faster, not only with his overexertion but with his fear for Gackt, his worry for his recovery, his anger at whoever had done this, and his confusion at why he knew so little about what was going on. His frustration because he couldn't understand, and because Gackt never seemed to want to LET him understand. Klaha made his way up the stairs, which was a difficult feat when carrying another body entirely, and then nudged open the door to his room.
Just as he'd left it. Dark, but neat, organized, large, expansive, pretty. Klaha stumbled over to the bed and at last gently lowered Gackt onto it. Gackt's body tensed slightly as he let himself be placed onto the large, soft sheets, and he sank into the mattress, resting his head upon the pillow, his eyes half-open.
Klaha stood there catching his breath. He wanted to talk to Gackt or ask him what had happened ...
But the moment he looked at Gackt again, he saw that the other boy's eyes had closed, and he now lay there limply, weakly, his breath coming in and out of him. He had fainted. It was strange that he had managed to remain awake the entire walk to the house, and then finally, when he felt the least bit of comfort like when placed on an unusually soft bed, his body gave in.
Klaha looked at Gackt and sighed. "I'm sorry ..."
He was about to go and fetch something to tend to him with, but knew that he would have to wait until Gackt woke up. Therefore, he carefully stood at the edge of the bed and pulled the sheets out from under Gackt so that he could lay them on top of him. He tucked Gackt in and made sure that he was comfortable, and then got down onto the bed. He spread his body out on the mattress next to Gackt, above the sheets, and leaned on the support of one hand, above the pillow.
Gackt was laying slightly on his side, his face turned towards Klaha. That face was unusual, so much so that Klaha had ever seen another one like it. For a little while Klaha didn't see the bruises or the swollen lips, nor did he see the blood, or the blank expression that had settled there, at last, now that Gackt was asleep and didn't have to be wary. For a little while all Klaha saw was the honest, sensitive beauty of the closed eyes, the long eyelashes, the impressionable mouth, and the brown, sleek hair, which was still damp as it fell over his face.
There were some bangs that had fallen over Gackt's forehead, Klaha noted, some of them in his eyes. As he lay there, Klaha reached out and carefully brushed the hair from Gackt's face, with a tender touch, as he stared at him. He knew that if Gackt was awake when Klaha was doing this, the boy would probably have tried to shove Klaha off of him. So Klaha enjoyed the moment while he could.
And he watched over Gackt, deep in thought.
[Half an hour later]
Gackt woke up. Slowly as he lay there, his mind cleared, and he opened his eyes.
Then blinked and realized that he didn't recognize where he was. The room was large, almost as big as the main room of his apaato, and much more organized. All of the furnishings and the belongings were nice, and everything was clean and attractive. So different than his and Yoshiki's drug-scattered, alcohol-stained apaato. Gackt knew that he wasn't home.
Judging by the window with the blinds half over it, it was almost dark outside, but made much darker because of the heavy storm and the imposing clouds. Thick rain still pounded down outdoors with scattered thunder and lightning, but the sounds were distant, almost cut off.
Gackt lay there for a moment, weakly. He took a long breath. He felt very strange. In pain, and yet comfortable. The bed was soft, but his body hurt, in numerous places, and his clothes and hair felt wet against him. For some odd reason, Gackt found that his mind was somewhat blank.
Hearing a soft noise, he turned his head to the side. Klaha ...? Very close to him, closer than he'd realized, Klaha was laying on his side, slightly upright, only watching him. He seemed a bit wet also, his hair slightly tousled and damp, but he didn't mind, apparently.
For a moment Gackt stared back. He didn't say anything. Then he drew himself up on his elbows, trying to support himself, and sat up almost entirely. He leaned back against the pillows, noting that Klaha's motions were almost identical to his as the other boy also sat up, as though following his lead. Gackt's eyes didn't leave Klaha for one second. He was a bit confused, and distrusting. Klaha had brought him to his home. Did that mean ...?
"Where am I?" Gackt asked. "What happened?"
Klaha looked at him a moment, uncertain of how to begin.
Gackt waited.
"I found you on the bench," Klaha finally explained. "Near the river. I was going to go home, but I wanted to talk to you again, so I came back and found you there. By then it had started to rain, but you didn't even seem to notice. I saw that ... that something had happened to you... and I told you that I would bring you home, but you wouldn't let me. So I brought you here instead. This is my room." After a moment, he added as an afterthought, "And it's all right, because my parents won't be home until tomorrow afternoon."
Gackt just nodded. He didn't know what to say. He was still unsure, because he wasn't very conscious of what had happened. Briefly he didn't remember, but then memories flooded back to his mind: memories that explained the pain, the discomfort. When he reached up numbly to touch his mouth, he winced and found blood on his fingers.
Klaha stared at him, then only now seemed to remember that he was hurt.
After all, the mild deformities had faded away from his eyes and had left only Gackt's attractiveness. But Klaha realized now that even bruises, on Gackt's face, seemed somewhat intriguing in their own way. Then he wondered at himself for thinking such things and he immediately shifted closer to Gackt, his eyes serious. "I'll help you," he said, intending to imply that he would help him take care of his wounds and clean himself off.
Gackt just searched him. At first he frowned warningly, trying to frighten Klaha away from him, but then, he couldn't do it anymore. Slowly his eyes filled with miserable, ashamed tears as he looked away. He didn't want Klaha to see him like this, after what had happened.
Klaha recognized this.
Suddenly Gackt found that Klaha's fingers had snuck beneath his chin. Their touch was very light, and very gentle, as though Klaha knew that he HAD to be gentle with someone like Gackt, no matter how strong either of them was. Klaha's hand lifted Gackt's head and forced the other boy to look at him. Gackt felt himself flushing slightly, but didn't change his expression as he gazed into Klaha's soft eyes. Klaha COULD have looked at the bruise on his cheek, near his lip, or the little stream of blood flowing from his nose, but no, Klaha was gazing right back into his eyes.
Gently Klaha tried to scold him. "You shouldn't be so self-conscious," he said, even though his meaning was serious. His voice was soft and kind, almost compassionate. "Don't worry about yourself when you're around me. Ne? You should trust me ..."
Then, at last: "And you shouldn't have sat out there in the rain like that. Baka!"
At this, Gackt couldn't help but smile a little. It wasn't a real smile, and it didn't genuinely reflect what he was feeling, but it was enough, for now.
Klaha then released Gackt's chin, and that hand crept up to touch Gackt's forehead instead. He laid his palm there and hesitated, glancing up at the ceiling in silence, and he leaned closer to examine Gackt's eyes as he did so. The luster in his eyes, and the warmth of his skin, told Klaha the truth. Klaha sighed. "Just as I thought. You have a fever," he said softly.
Gackt only nodded and looked down.
Klaha glanced over him once and shook his head. "You'll ... You'll have to take that off," he said, gesturing to Gackt's kimono. "It's soaked. It's not doing anything for you."
"You're right."
"You need to take a bath, too. Here, you can use my bathroom."
The idea of a bath sounded very comforting to Gackt, who still felt a bit lightheaded. Klaha's presence was doing nothing to help this, just as his drenched kimono was doing nothing to help his fever. Therefore, when Klaha took his hand and started to help him out of the bed, he weakly let him, trying to do as much on his own as he could. But his legs were still a little unsteady, and he had to lean on Klaha for support as the other boy brought him to the bathroom. In the back of his mind, Gackt knew that he would be better in the morning. He tended to heal quickly. For now, however, he was extremely fragile.
The bathroom was just as nice as the rest of the house, of course. It was a well-sized room, with pretty tile and nice patterns, with a large counter and a wall-length mirror. Good lighting, too, and a large tub. Klaha brought Gackt over to this and carefully set him down on it, so that Gackt was perched on the edge of the tub. Klaha made sure that Gackt could sit by himself, and then he started to fill the tub with hot water.
Normally, of course, Gackt would wash himself off first and then get into the water to soak for a while. But Klaha saw two problems with that: firstly, Gackt wasn't strong enough to be able to wash himself, and secondly, since Klaha might have to help him, it would be more comfortable for both of them if Gackt's body was concealed partially by water. Just thinking about it made Klaha flush a little bit with embarrassment as he hurried to set up the bathroom, feeling Gackt's eyes on him, as he tried to ignore all these facts. It wasn't as though Klaha had been intending to clean himself in the same water later on anyway, so it didn't matter how Gackt took his bath.
"First I have to tend to your face a little," Klaha told Gackt. "Wait here."
Gackt only nodded.
Klaha fetched a washcloth, some disinfectant, and a small basin of water. He set the basin on the tile near Gackt, then turned off the water in the tub and let that sit for a while as he knelt down in front of Gackt and started to work. "This may hurt a little bit."
Klaha only dampened the washcloth at first, and brought it up to Gackt's face. Gackt watched him the entire time everything was happening. This felt so strange to him. No one had ever taken care of him before. He almost wasn't sure whether to trust Klaha. And Klaha probably knew very little about taking care of other people too, because of the way he'd been raised, but he was doing a good job of trying. There was such dedication, such gentle concentration in his eyes as he crouched in front of Gackt and gazed intently at the task in front of him.
But Gackt's thoughts were distracted temporarily when Klaha touched the washcloth to his nose, to where the blood was flowing. He winced, gasping slightly. It hurt.
Klaha swallowed. "G-Gomen," he whispered.
Gackt shook his head. "No. I'm fine ..."
Therefore, Klaha hesitantly tried to continue. He dabbed the washcloth to Gackt's face, to the area between his nose and his lips, trying to lightly blot away the blood. Slowly the washcloth, which had been white, became stained with red, as Gackt's face became smooth and clear again. Then Klaha used the other half of the washcloth to sanitize the wounds. He put some of the disinfectant on the material and then lifted it, looking even more apologetic. Sheepishly, he said, "This is REALLY going to hurt."
Gackt managed a small, dry smile, and glanced away. "Thank you for warning me."
Klaha touched it to the bruise next to Gackt's eye, and immediately, a sharp stinging sensation spread itself beneath Gackt's skin, distracting him even more than before, while the bacteria was being killed. He hissed in his breath, flinching violently. "Itai!"
Klaha looked so sorry and concerned that Gackt had to tell him to finish it. When they were done with Gackt's face, all that was left was the bath.
Klaha finished pushing the small basin of water off to the side and then glanced down at the tub full of water with unsettled eyes. At first he had wondered whether he would have to help Gackt in the bath, but suddenly he wasn't sure whether he could make himself do that. It wasn't entirely the knowledge that Gackt was a prostitute, but, ashamed, he had to admit that this was a small part of it. There was just something about the idea of seeing the naked body of someone who had been used, time and time again, by so many people that he had probably lost count. Especially since Klaha himself was still a virgin and hadn't seen anyone else's naked body. On top of that, however, he also knew that he would probably become painfully uncomfortable if he helped Gackt, for after all, he DID think that Gackt was remarkably attractive.
Therefore, he nervously rose to his feet and started to back up. "D-Do you think that you can manage on your own?"
Gackt looked up at him and swallowed, a bit fuzzily. "I'll ... I'll try ..."
"Okay." Klaha nodded, but seemed a bit worried as he headed for the door. "I'll be right outside," he promised Gackt, reassuring him as though the other boy would become nervous if he thought that Klaha wouldn't stay. "Call me if you need anything, or when you're done."
Gackt watched him go, sitting there. After the door shut, he looked around the bathroom uncertainly, his head hurting. Such a strange place.
Gackt didn't want to draw attention to himself. He didn't want Klaha to worry about him like that. Klaha had already found out too much about him, and Gackt knew that he couldn't let him find out anything else. Therefore, he tried to do everything on his own.
He carefully lifted himself up off the edge of the tub, and when he was standing up, held onto the wall a bit to gain his stability and force his eyesight to refocus. Just in case he might grow faint again, he stayed near the wall as he started to undress. But he was weak with fever and exhaustion, and even though he tried, he couldn't do anything when he was by himself. He reached up with his hands and loosened his kimono, but when the garment was slipping down beneath his shoulders, exposing his collarbone, he felt his legs growing weaker again suddenly. His brown hair falling into his eyes, he collapsed against the wall, slipping a bit, and one of his feet accidentally knocked over the basin of water. A small puddle formed, nothing serious, but the clatter that the basin made was more attention-getting than the mess itself.
Immediately the door opened. Gackt looked up faintly, blinking quickly.
Klaha hurried back in, looking immediately concerned again. He spotted Gackt and gasped, rushing over to him and trying to support him. "I knew I shouldn't have left you alone," he said, but more to himself, resentfully.
Gackt hated being weak like this, and cleared his throat, stammering, "I ... I'm ... sorry about the water ..."
"Forget the water. It doesn't matter." Klaha looked down at Gackt speculatively for a moment, trying to search him. Anxiously he recognized Gackt's helplessness, and he knew that he had no way of avoiding this. He would have to assist him. Therefore, he said softly to Gackt, "I'll help you."
Gackt looked back up at him. He didn't want Klaha to help him. Didn't want him to find out. But he couldn't do anything on his own yet. So he gave a small nod.
Klaha leaned Gackt carefully against the wall. "Brace yourself on that for a moment," he tried to instruct him as he released Gackt's shoulders, making sure that the other boy wouldn't slide down as he supported himself on the flat surface. Klaha steeled himself and then reached forward, while his eyes observed the state of Gackt's kimono, which had slid down his shoulders.
Klaha, swallowing hard, took ahold of the fabric of Gackt's obi, crouching down slightly to have better access to it. He began to undo the twists with utmost care, trying to be gentle even as he remained busy and attentive. He didn't want his mind to wander. He pulled the obi carefully away from Gackt's body, which collapsed in a pool of fabric on the tile, and then he started to remove the kimono as well.
Gackt just stood there. He was used to this. As he stood there and allowed Klaha to undress him his thoughts unwillingly wandered back to not so very long ago ... some man, some stranger that he didn't know, pressing him against a wall, undressing him, removing his clothes, and he had just stood there, knowing what was going to happen, emotionlessly letting the man do anything, whatever he wanted, because he knew he couldn't fight it ...
Gackt closed his eyes, swallowing hard also, and stood there. That happened so often. He felt the brush of Klaha's soft hands against his skin, as they pulled the kimono off him.
Klaha couldn't help but feel a little nervous. Here he was, after all, undressing his male guest, who he had begun to think of as a close friend. He was carefully avoiding looking down. He wasn't going to look at any part of Gackt's body that he didn't have to, because he wanted to let the other boy keep at least one remaining shred of dignity. He wanted Gackt to know that he didn't think of him as an object or a tool, the way that everyone else seemed to think of him. Klaha thought of him as a human being that deserved respect, and so, he averted his eyes at first.
However, the few glimpses that Klaha got of Gackt's body were surprising to him. Firstly, Klaha had always noticed that beneath Gackt's many kimono and his few casual outfits, he had seemed to have a lovely though slender shape. But now, his suspicions were briefly confirmed. Gackt, though he looked strong enough, was quite thin. What was surprising to Klaha was how attractive he found it. In fact, Klaha was hard-pressed to keep his eyes from traveling to Gackt's midsection. Secondly, there were some faint small bruises on Gackt's neck and his shoulders that were starting to darken into visibility, clearly from that very day. Marks from fingers, it seemed.
Klaha hated to see them there. Hated to think of anyone's hands on Gackt.
'Anyone ELSE'S hands on Gackt, anyway.'
Klaha halted, and blinked, startled by his own thoughts. Where had THAT come from?
Gackt was growing a bit more tired, and didn't really care anymore. Therefore, he let Klaha gently lead him over to the bath, and then he stepped inside, careful not to slip. Klaha remained just outside the bath, bracing himself on the edge, as Gackt sank down, settling himself with the water up to his chest. He did his best to ignore Klaha and forget that he was there.
Klaha guided Gackt to the most convenient position, which was with Gackt leaning against the nearest edge and Klaha on the other side of that edge, behind him, within easy reach. He DID have to help him bathe, after all.
"Okay. Now, just relax." Klaha reached for the soap and a second washcloth, swallowed hard, and began.
He was careful about washing Gackt. He was careful for the same reasons he'd had when undressing him: he wanted to let Gackt maintain his dignity, and he wanted to keep himself from getting too sidetracked. But at the same time, Klaha was worried for Gackt, so he treated him as gently as possible. He knew that Gackt was stronger than that, but something about the way he seemed right now, the way he was curling into himself as he lifted his knees to his chest, implied that he was more fragile than usual. Also, Klaha was a tiny bit nervous that if he made the wrong move, Gackt would try to beat him up.
Even though Klaha was trying hard to concentrate, he couldn't help but become a little bit uncomfortable, and even aroused, at some points. But he choked that down, and washed Gackt off to the best of his ability, noticing that Gackt's skin was very soft. Klaha was careful about washing the blood away from the marks on the backs of Gackt's shoulders, which were angry and red, apparently from fingernails. Once again, Klaha had to wonder at the origin of some of these bruises.
Meanwhile, Gackt seemed to be falling asleep against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed.
Klaha washed his hair first. He rather liked the feeling of Gackt's silky hair in his hands. It felt so nice. There was something more than eroticism about touching Gackt's hair, about stroking the shampoo from his head with water. Klaha washed his body next, scrubbing cautiously at the skin. Purposefully, he left the more dangerous areas of Gackt's body for last.
But when he was done with everything else, he realized that he had to get to them sooner or later. Sighing, Klaha leaned down over the mostly limp Gackt and put a hand on one of his knees.
Gackt only flinched a tiny bit, asleep. He looked like a cat in the middle of a restless dream, and didn't try to shake Klaha off. Feeling slightly encouraged by this, Klaha spread Gackt's legs apart slightly, trying to fight the blush that crept into his face. He kept his eyes away from the area that mattered, but as he washed the insides of Gackt's legs, his gaze wandered inevitably a little bit farther ...
And he was shocked at the sight of red beneath the water. Red, staining Gackt's skin. 'M-More blood ... But this is ...!'
On the insides of Gackt's thighs, on the smooth flesh there, mild smudges of dried blood were evident, still in the process of being washed away by the water. And then, as Klaha's eyes widened, he began to see other stains, and leaned down farther subconsciously, as though not believing that they were there. Someone's semen was mixed with the blood, and some lingering traces stained the backs of Gackt's thighs also, one or two accidental smears on his abdomen.
Klaha felt nauseous suddenly without being able to describe why. He observed these areas with shock, his hand limply sliding down Gackt's leg as his eyes widened.
Meanwhile, Gackt started to shiver slightly. He didn't realize what was going on, of course, because he had fallen mostly asleep, and was having some sort of fitful, napping dream, but he could sense that something was wrong. Not to mention that he could feel Klaha's hands on him in places that he hadn't expected, even in his sleep, and so, he reacted to it without waking up. His body started to tremble slightly, and the tremors were enough to make his teeth chatter slightly even though he was sitting in warm water.
"Get off of me," he murmured, roughly at first.
Klaha glanced down at him, blinking.
At first, Gackt's voice remained deep, muffled, angry. "No ... Stop it ..." His arms curled up from the water, even as he slept, to protectively cradle his own body, as though to defend himself from someone. He turned his head to the opposite side, restlessly, so that it was leaning against Klaha. His brows furrowed, his lips tensed. "Don't ...!" His voice became softer, almost pleading, desperate, as though he knew he'd lost. Klaha had never heard him sound like that before. "Not again ... Please ..."
Dully, still stunned, Klaha was shocked not only Gackt's tremors but by the words slipping from his mouth. He brought one hand up to touch Gackt's uninjured cheek, almost petting it, stroking it gently with the backs of his fingers. Gackt violently jerked his face away, still sleeping, but Klaha persisted softly, and so, Gackt relaxed a bit. It seemed to soothe him, and one last little sigh came out of him before he fell mostly still again.
Then Klaha's eyes wandered to the blood again. In his mind he froze up, and became both stiff and silent. He brought his hand and the washcloth down between Gackt's legs, quickly but very carefully rubbing the blood and semen away from Gackt's thighs. His face blushed furiously as he did it, feeling enraged and embarrassed to think of someone else's semen on Gackt's body, with him forced to wash it off. After that, he cleaned a bit lower, but was even more cautious as he did so. Either way, it didn't really matter. Klaha's mind was no longer on anything that would excite him or arouse him.
When he was done, he shook Gackt's shoulders gently. "Gackt. Gackt, wake up."
Slowly, Gackt stirred. He opened his eyes and gazed up at Klaha, wordlessly.
Something in Klaha seized to see that, as he still held Gackt's shoulders. All of a sudden there seemed to be such trust in Gackt's eyes, something that Klaha had never seen there before. There was the trust, but also, the sadness. Tears almost surfaced in Klaha's own eyes to wonder how long it had been since Gackt had trusted anyone.
Gackt saw Klaha swallow hard. He didn't know why. "What is it?"
Klaha shook his head, clearing his throat, and responded. "Nothing. You're ... We're done."
With that, he helped Gackt out of the bath. Once again, he politely averted his eyes as Gackt leaned on him to stand up, and he reached off to the side to grab a towel that Gackt could wrap about his waist. Then he cleaned up as Gackt stood there. He drained the tub and removed the turned-over basin and the used washcloths, wiping up the remaining water briefly. While he did all this, his eyes remained desperately absent as though thinking hard about something, and his movements were quick and efficient but also distracted.
Gackt noticed all this, noticed the way that Klaha was suddenly behaving, so shocked and stunned and quiet. Gackt became more awake at the sight. He watched Klaha, and then allowed Klaha to silently lead him back into his bedroom without more than a word or two.
Klaha didn't look at Gackt. "Your kimono is too wet to wear ... Let me get you something to sleep in."
He left him for a moment to rummage through his closet, pushing garment after garment to the side. Considering that it was nearing late evening and they would have to go to sleep soon, Klaha decided that he would get Gackt one of his spare pairs of pajamas for now, and he would dry out the other boy's clothes for him to wear again in the morning. "Here." Klaha held out a pair of black silk pajamas to Gackt.
Gackt stared at them. They looked so nice. He hadn't seen much like them before.
"Go ahead, take them." Klaha extended them a bit farther, expectantly.
Therefore, Gackt took the garments from Klaha's hands, still holding onto his towel.
As Klaha spoke, he gathered up Gackt's kimono, which he'd left in a small pile between his bathroom and his bedroom. "I'm going to take this downstairs," he said. "I'll wash it, and then dry it so you can wear it again in the morning. You can get dressed while I'm gone. Is that okay?"
Gackt only nodded.
Klaha almost smiled, very, very slightly. But something came back to his mind, and his smile turned to one of pain. So he turned, with Gackt's clothes bundled in his arms, and left the room.
Gackt was feeling a bit better now. The bath had refreshed him, in addition to the small nap he'd taken while in the water. Therefore, he was a bit stronger now, at least strong enough to take off and fold the towel, then put on Klaha's pajamas. Gackt thought to himself almost bitterly that he didn't have any modesty anymore. He should have blushed at the mere thought that he was wearing something that Klaha had worn to bed in the past, but by now, he had been through too much for that. The pajamas looked nice on him, though. Gackt liked to wear black. The fabric was smooth and soft, and felt nice against his skin. Gackt was fastening the top button of the shirt when Klaha knocked softly on the door.
"Are you decent?" The question sounded almost funny. But neither of them laughed.
"Hai," Gackt answered, looking up.
Klaha opened the door and came inside almost hesitantly. While he'd been taking care of Gackt's kimono, he'd quickly changed his own clothes so that he was no longer damp, lest he also catch a chill. Now, he saw that Gackt was struggling with the last button on the pajama shirt, the one that was right up over the collarbone. For some reason, it was more elaborate than any of the others: intended to be some silly decoration. It had taken Klaha a while to figure out how to clasp it also.
"Here, let me." Klaha spoke gently, and he came over to Gackt and stood before him. A bit surprised, Gackt looked at Klaha, but Klaha wasn't looking at him. He was looking down at Gackt's shirt, which he raised his hands to. He started to fasten the button on his own, his fingers brushing Gackt's skin again, and it was only NOW that Gackt blushed slightly. Maybe he did have a sense of modesty after all.
"There." Klaha lowered his hands.
"Arigato."
Klaha stood there for a moment, merely gazing away from Gackt, who was looking at him. Then, Klaha took ahold of Gackt's arm, and started to lead him towards the bed. "Come on, I'll help you." This must have been the third time he'd said that, but it applied. Gackt leaned against him and walked over to the bed. Klaha helped Gackt ease into it and then settled the sheets over him. When Gackt was sitting slightly upright, watching him, Klaha pulled his chair from his desk over to the side of the bed. He sat down.
Gackt kept watching him. Something wasn't right.
Klaha sat stiffly, still not really looking at Gackt. He crossed one leg over the other, and then folded his arms, and merely sat there, rather close to Gackt because he was right near the bed. As a few silent moments passed, his eyes became almost distressed, with some thoughts that were going through his mind. Gackt couldn't understand what.
After a little while Gackt stopped watching Klaha, and looked down at his own hands. He contemplated about how strange it was for him to be in a place like this, a place he had seen before from a distance but had never been inside. It was even more strange for someone to be looking after him as Klaha was.
Gackt felt eyes on him, and grew uncomfortable. His thoughts were confirmed as he looked up. He saw that Klaha was now staring. He had barely glanced at him before, and now, he was staring very hard. His eyes were intense, distraught, and upset as they gazed at Gackt. At first Gackt felt defensive, and he wanted to snap at Klaha to look at something else, but slowly, he began to see how distressed Klaha was.
'Why is he looking at me like that?' Gackt wondered silently. Then he almost felt afraid. He hadn't seen that expression in Klaha's eyes before.
Then, at last, Klaha spoke. His voice was soft and disturbed, sounding somehow very young with his inexperience and his confusion but also older than he was, with his compassion and his odd kind of fear for Gackt. "I know," he whispered. Gackt's heart sank. The last time that Klaha had said this, it was because he'd discovered the last thing about Gackt that Gackt wanted him to know. Now, Klaha continued softly, "I know that you ... that someone raped you."
Gackt said absolutely nothing suddenly, and became still.
Klaha wanted Gackt to talk to him. "Who ... Who did it to you?" he asked him. "It seems so sudden. How could someone have ... done that ... so soon after I saw you?" Inwardly he was blaming himself, without any reason for it.
Gackt didn't answer again.
"Please, Gackt ... Talk to me," Klaha quietly requested, his eyes imploring.
But Gackt slowly started to shrink protectively into himself, stricken with grief that he was trying to hide. His knees slowly rose up to his chest again beneath the sheets, and his arms went around them. He stared straight ahead, not daring to look at Klaha. His eyes hardened.
Inwardly he was in agony. He knew Klaha so little, and yet, he had a sudden urge to let everything flow out of him. He wanted to tell Klaha about it all, about his lover even. He had already told Klaha vague information, but he wanted to say it all over again, and not leave anything out this time. Yoshiki didn't love him, could never care for anyone like he had cared for hide ... and now that hide was gone, Yoshiki's life had basically been extinguished also. Gackt wanted to tell Klaha about his pain at Yoshiki's hands, about how Yoshiki had changed, about Yoshiki's anger and hatred that seemed to only be for Gackt, who always got in the way, who lived when hide had died. He wanted to tell Klaha about how worried he was for Yoshiki, knowing that the man couldn't go on for much longer the way he was now, abusing so many substances and only hurting himself further, clearly only waiting to die because he was too afraid to take his own life. He wanted to tell Klaha that it had been Yoshiki who had violated him, so cruelly and briefly as though it had been no significant event, for indeed Yoshiki had forced him in the past.
But Gackt could not say a word. Not a single word. He only sat there and trembled, biting hard on his lip with inner fury until it changed color. He stared far away, as meanwhile Klaha became more and more worried, pleading with him more and more.
"Onegai," he begged. "Talk to me. I want to help you."
But there was no response.
Klaha stood up and left his chair, nudging it to the side, and he slid onto his bed, sitting next to Gackt, facing him. Gackt didn't flinch or move away from him, nor did he look up. Klaha frowned. Gackt's silence was disturbing. Klaha spoke again, trying to be gentle. "You can't keep it bottled up forever," he said softly. "Staying silent like this is only going to make it worse."
Gackt said nothing.
"I know all about it. I have experience with keeping things bottled up, and it didn't do me any good. I know about wanting to run away. I hate my parents, hate my life, hate the fact that no one loves me." Klaha felt tears coming to his eyes as he made his own confessions to Gackt, hoping that Gackt would do the same. "I know what it's like to want to abandon it all."
Gackt heard the pain in Klaha's voice and almost frowned.
Klaha inched a bit closer, looking at Gackt tenderly even though his voice was intense. "I know that you probably want to escape all of this, all these ... these horrors that you have to try to live through. I probably can't understand yet, but I ... I want to understand! I want to know about it so that I can be there for you. Clearly, no one else will."
Now, finally, Gackt spoke, becoming upset. He whispered in his usual rich voice to Klaha without resting his eyes on him yet. "I don't want to ... tell you about it. You don't want to know. You'll never want to know what it's been like ... what's happened to me, what's going to happen when I go home, and what will keep on happening every day, maybe ... for the rest of my life."
"Gackt ..."
"You don't want to know!" Tears became evident in Gackt's voice, but he wouldn't let himself cry. Klaha watched this and realized it. His own tears had filled his eyes, and one had even overflowed. Yet as he looked at Gackt's face, he saw that Gackt was working very hard to keep that moisture in his eyes from spilling. He was determined not to give in. Klaha didn't want to see that. He wanted Gackt to cry. He knew that there was no other way of relieving the anguish. Suddenly, Klaha felt more bold and less meek than he usually was. Suddenly, when he was faced with someone like Gackt who seemed so strong but who had so many weaknesses, he couldn't help but try to overpower him.
He leaned forward, strands of hair falling into his wide eyes, as he swiftly and intensely spoke in a soft, urgent voice. "Cry," he just said, almost commanding it. "Let it all out. Talk about it. Cry, sob, scream if you want to! I'll listen." He swallowed. "I'll listen to it all, I'll try to understand, I'll try to do anything I can for you. Please ..."
Gackt was staring at him now, as though appalled. Slowly he frowned, sniffling hard. "What right do you have to tell me you can understand? You can't understand! You could never understand. I ... I ..." He glanced away for a minute, his eyes lost and confused.
'That's right,' Klaha thought, staring at him. 'Cry. Cry.'
But Gackt reached up and wiped furiously at his eyes, enraged that Klaha had gotten him so upset. Klaha knew that the fury would pass, and that he would be forgiven someday. However, he shook his head almost fiercely to see Gackt trying to keep his tears from coming. "No! Onegai, Gackt," he pleaded. He was imploring him now, actually begging him, to cry. "Please! Cry!"
But Gackt could not let Klaha into his pain. His body was shaking violently, with the strength it took to contain his sobs, the sobs that he was usually able to stifle long before now. He had never come so close to crying, but he wouldn't do it. He couldn't do it, even as the tears were freely flowing down Klaha's face now as the other boy looked at him pleadingly. By now most of his anger towards Klaha had dissolved, but his sorrow, his bewilderment, had replaced it. He spoke almost brokenly, barely managing to speak at all. "Gomen ..."
Klaha stared at him in disbelief.
"I didn't want you to know," Gackt told him desperately. "I didn't want you to see any of this. I've never wanted anyone to know, least of all you. That's why I didn't want you to see my home. Don't want you to meet my friends, or ... or the people I have to call friends. Don't want you to understand anything about the way I live, or any of the ... the horrible things I do every day ..."
There was a silence. Gackt sat there staring into his lap, trembling powerfully, while Klaha sat there gazing at him.
Then Klaha reached forward and pulled Gackt against him, even though Gackt, in his shock, began to struggle a little bit. Klaha wouldn't let him go. He leaned back against the pillows and forced Gackt's body down against his chest, slightly on top of him, and held Gackt to him, embracing him gently. Slowly, Gackt could no longer struggle. Having his body be forced to do something, anything, by Klaha was so different than being forced by Yoshiki. So Gackt collapsed there, sliding his arms around Klaha and clutching him. He couldn't cry, even now, but he was still shaking. He just lay there holding onto Klaha, grasping him with his fingers tightly.
At last, he whispered roughly, "Why do you even care?"
Klaha swallowed and held onto him. He stroked his hand down Gackt's hair softly, trying to comfort him, and succeeded a bit, for when he gently touched him, Gackt's shivers calmed slightly. "Friends take care of friends," he whispered back. "I ... I've never really had any friends before ... real ones ... none like you. But I want to try."
Gackt was silent.
That night, Gackt fell asleep in Klaha's bed, in Klaha's arms, just like that, and Klaha decided not to attend school the next day.
NOTES~They are being drawn closer and closer ...
Glossary
nani: what
iie: no
okaasama: mother
otousama: father
baka: idiot
gomen: I'm sorry
itai: ouch! it hurts!
hai: yes
arigato: thank you
onegai: please
apaato: apartment
To Be Continued
To the next part