Ma Cherie: Chapter Seven
Author: Scarlet Kozi
Klaha continued to see Gackt. He took the long way every day after school now. It was the only time he could really get away from his home to see Gackt during the week, without having to offer some false explanation to his parents as to why he felt that he should be able to go out as opposed to do his schoolwork. Sometimes, Klaha even skipped his earliest or latest classes during the day, or those near lunchtime, so that he could spend time with Gackt.
He began to learn where to find Gackt, when it was most convenient. No matter what time of day it was when he came by, he would usually find Gackt walking down the street or standing on the corner. Always between jobs. Sometimes Gackt would have stopped home at his apaato, and Klaha would look for him there. He was lucky that Yoshiki was never home to answer the door ... He was afraid of what Yoshiki would do if he saw him, and Klaha knew that Gackt was afraid of that too. So he tried not to risk it.
But sometimes when he looked for Gackt, and the other boy wasn't on the street anywhere or in his apaato, Klaha would realize where he was. In some stranger's place, somewhere. Being used.
Tears of sorrow, empathy, and jealousy would come into his eyes. And hatred, hatred for the people who would abuse Gackt like that.
The worst times, though, were when Klaha searched for Gackt out on the street and didn't find him, so then decided to stop by his apaato on the off chance that Gackt would be there. He liked to see Gackt whenever possible, after all, now that the boy was fast becoming his closest friend. He would come up the stairs and slink curiously toward Gackt's apaato, then halt outside the door.
Sounds of a stranger's lusty grunts, and Gackt's soft, unwilling moans would drift through the thin battered door to his ears. He would know that Gackt was entertaining a customer in his own home at this point, and this would cause him even more pain than just imagining it.
Those sounds ripped at his heart. Klaha would turn and flee, feeling nauseous, until he was home. The rest of his day would be miserable.
It just proved how important Gackt was becoming to him. Klaha knew that he cherished Gackt's friendship more than that of any other person that he knew. Whenever something was bothering him, he would speak to Gackt, give Gackt an opportunity to take a break from work so that they could talk. Sometimes Gackt would be hesitant to leave work, because Yoshiki would grow angry if he wasn't offered a suitable amount of money by his whores at a certain time. Gackt always seemed to know what amount of money he still had to earn. But usually, he would always give in and go with Klaha to walk and talk, unable to refuse him.
Klaha would grow worried about him. There was one time when he drew Gackt away from work, which Gackt was thankful for because of the opportunity to rest. However, by now, Klaha and Gackt had grown so engaged in their conversation that the latter had spent too much time away from his potential customers.
"Kuso," he'd said with wide eyes suddenly, realizing the time. "G-Gomen. I have to go."
"But why?" Klaha had asked, disappointed. He hated when Gackt had to leave.
Gackt averted his eyes, almost shyly, but with bitterness in them. "I haven't earned enough money yet today," he said. "I told you about this already. I have to earn a certain amount, or we won't have enough to get by." Clearly he was deciding not to say that Yoshiki wouldn't have enough to pay for his drugs, and the rent and living expenses on top of that. "Yoshiki will be angry with me."
Klaha felt defensively jealous. "So what?" he asked, quietly.
"So what?" Gackt blinked at him, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "You don't understand."
Klaha hadn't understood. But he'd seen the slight pain in Gackt's expression and had known that this was just another of those things that Gackt had to deal with every day, but that he wouldn't tell Klaha about. Klaha would usually find this sort of thing out on his own, through experience. After their meeting that day, Klaha had let Gackt go back to work, feeling a little bit guilty because he'd taken away from Gackt's work time.
And the next day when Klaha saw Gackt, the other boy's body was bruised again. He had a slightly darkening mark underneath his eye, and his lip was cut. In addition to that, however, it seemed that someone had injured Gackt's wrist somehow, for the beginnings of a white bandage around the boy's hand and arm showed beneath the sleeve of his kimono. Klaha was astonished to see him like that, and immediately, past his concern, he became enraged. He blamed Yoshiki for it all, knowing that it was that man who had done it. But Gackt had tried to tell him that the bandage would be off in a couple of days, that the bruises would heal, and he softly stopped Klaha.
"Don't," he whispered. "It was my fault. I told you that if I stayed out too long, I wouldn't earn enough."
Klaha had felt his shame burning painfully. It was HIS fault, not Gackt's. He had kept Gackt away from work, the work which Klaha hated to let him go back to, and as a result, Yoshiki had beaten Gackt for not bringing home enough money. Klaha knew that he needed to find some way to solve this horrible problem. He wanted to spend as much time with Gackt as possible, which luckily meant that Gackt would have to "work" less, and that was a good thing because Klaha didn't even want to think about Gackt whoring himself. But if he didn't let Gackt work, then Gackt wouldn't earn enough money, and Yoshiki would hurt him. That was also the last thing Klaha wanted.
So the next time they went out together, Klaha brought some of his pocket money from home. His allowance was great enough to rival the amount of money that Gackt would make over a short period of time, so it wasn't really anything big for him to give it away. He didn't spend it on anything important anyway.
When he and Gackt were walking, he found a way to distract his friend, while they were fortunately holding hands at the time. They didn't do that often, of course, because they were just friends, but sometimes Klaha could manage to do it when Gackt wasn't paying attention. And this time, when Gackt was looking away, diverted with something else, Klaha had shifted his own hand and slipped a handful of money, a bundle of bills, into the pocket of Gackt's kimono, within the sleeve. He knew where Gackt kept his earnings in for the day, which he would empty when he went home to Yoshiki. He knew these little private things about Gackt by now.
He was lucky this time that Gackt didn't realize it when he gave him the money, to substitute for the time that Klaha spent with him instead of prostituting himself. Klaha hoped that this would solve that problem, and wondered how Gackt would act to him the next day, after realizing what Klaha had done for him.
But the next time he and Gackt had met, Gackt didn't react as Klaha had expected.
Klaha approached him on the street, seeing Gackt's back turned to him. Gackt seemed to know that he was coming, and didn't turn around. His arms were folded, the bandage still showing itself on one arm, and his head was slightly bowed. His brown hair covered his eyes, and when Klaha stood next to him and looked at him questioningly, Gackt turned his eyes up.
Klaha was startled by the fact that Gackt's expression was so atypically cold, his lips so immobile, his eyes so unfeeling as they gazed up at him through his lashes. This was the way that Gackt had looked at him before the two of them had become friends ... most likely the way that Gackt looked at everyone he didn't trust. Only, now he seemed angrier, even more cold.
"Do you want to fuck me?" he asked frankly. His voice was just as cold as his eyes.
Klaha was so startled that he thought he would melt into the frosty, ice-covered pavement. "Nani?" he managed.
Gackt continued to gaze at him. At first he seemed almost thoughtful, unmoving, as he searched Klaha up and down. But his lingering anger, his lingering hurt, showed themselves in tears that began to gather in his eyes, even as his coldness didn't fade. "Do you want to fuck me?" he repeated. "Is that why you gave me the money? To buy my body, like ... like all the others do?"
Klaha was shocked. "I ... don't understand," he stammered.
"If all that you want from me is a quick, emotionless night together, just like one of my customers ... just like they all want from me ... then I'll do it, Klaha." He swallowed, upset, his brows furrowing painfully. "I'll give you what you want, if that IS what you want, and I'll let you use my body for whatever vulgar pleasure you might desire from it." Then his eyes became dim for a moment, and he glanced down, almost trembling, with both anger and grief.
When he spoke again, his voice was harsh, even as he hated to say the words. "What it'll be, Klaha? What do you want from me? You gave me a hell of a lot of money. That only leaves me to think that you expect everything ... you want me to suck you, AND you want to fuck me, right?"
Klaha was shocked, yet again. He almost began to tremble.
Gackt saw this, and almost became ashamed of himself. The words made him tremble a little bit also. He swallowed and looked down, his voice just a little bit quieter now. "That's what all the others want, when they give me money. They don't see me, just my body. So I'll ignore how much you and I have been through together, how many things you know about me that no one else does, and I'll let you have sex with me. I'll let you." He looked up at Klaha again, his eyes now shining with moisture, even as that cold emotionlessness came back into his voice. "If that's what you want, then you can have me."
Klaha could hardly speak. He felt weak suddenly. "I ..."
"Don't you see? I know what you did."
Klaha blinked. Gackt had realized, then. That was the reason for all of this. Klaha had known that his new companion would wonder where the money had come from, but somehow he had not been expecting Gackt to react like this, as he was now.
Gackt held Klaha's gaze. "When I was walking home yesterday evening, I knew that staying out with you had probably kept me from earning some of the money that I needed to bring in." His voice was soft, as it always was, with inner pain, when he spoke about his hated occupation. "I knew that Yoshiki would be angry with me. He's been acting more strangely and violently lately, and I expected my usual punishment for not having enough money for him. But when I reached into my pocket to count what I had, I saw in my hand about twice as much money as should have been there."
Klaha nodded, looking down. "I ... I gave it to you."
"I know that!" Gackt's voice was a soft, fierce whisper. "I'm not stupid."
"O-Of course you're not!"
"Then let me ask you again. Do you want to fuck me?"
Klaha winced at the third pronunciation of this phrase. It was clear that Gackt wasn't asking him this in order to coax a real answer out of him. If he was, then Klaha would have a problem with responding, for he didn't want Gackt to know what his honest answer to that question really was. At the same time, the question almost seemed like an insult. More than the shock that Klaha felt at hearing Gackt speak profanities, Klaha was nearly wounded because of Gackt's tone: the other boy's voice was rarely so chilly, so withdrawn, when he spoke to Klaha.
Gackt reached out suddenly, before Klaha could respond, and he grabbed ahold of Klaha's wrist. Ignoring the startlement in Klaha's eyes, he brought Klaha's hand to him and then settled his fingers on the neck of his kimono, where it could be pulled aside, where it WAS pulled aside, so often by strangers before the inevitable happened. "Here," he whispered, staring into Klaha's eyes. "Take me."
Klaha was shocked, horrified, even as his body reacted otherwise.
"You paid for me, after all ..."
Klaha felt cold and hot shivers, unable to pull his hand away so long as Gackt was holding his wrist lightly and pressing his palm flat against his chest. He just stared down at Gackt, able to feel the light beating of Gackt's heart between the barrier of their skin. He opened his mouth, but again, no words would come to him.
Gackt saw his discomfort and calmed slightly. "I can only assume that's your intention. To buy me."
"I ... I still don't understand."
Gackt shook his head, sniffing once, from the cold, as he released Klaha's wrist. Klaha unconsciously let his hand linger for a moment and then almost too quickly he pulled it away. Gackt didn't really notice this, but turned his face away. "I'm a WHORE, Klaha," he whispered softly, making Klaha wince a fourth time. "I know it. I can't run from it. With everyone else, that's all I am to them, but with you ... You're the only person with whom I don't have to be a whore."
Klaha's eyes widened slightly, and he gazed down at Gackt silently.
"That's why your little 'donation' hurt so much." Gackt swallowed, closing his eyes tensely. "I suppose that in the end, I should thank you. It got me out of a beating. Yoshiki asked for the money, so I gave it to him, all of it, still without really understanding why you gave it to me. It was enough, more than enough, so Yoshiki didn't hit me, didn't yell at me last night. I was lucky for that. So ... arigato. But getting hit by Yoshiki is better than feeling as though you consider me that cheap."
Klaha caught his breath to hear this, for two reasons. First of all, his brain experienced an instinctive reaction to the last sentence: he didn't think of Gackt as cheap, and that was just it, but hearing Gackt say that was startling. Secondly, he felt his heart stop beating for just a moment. Gackt would rather be hit by Yoshiki, the man who was supposedly "the only person that Gackt had left," rather than have Klaha, who he'd only known for a couple of months, even think something slightly offensive about him? Did that mean that ... that Gackt cared, even a little bit?
Klaha knew that he was being foolish. Of course Gackt cared. But how much?
Gackt shook his head again, at Klaha's silence. "You told me that I'm more than just a prostitute, that you actually consider me a friend. That really meant something to me, Klaha." His words were halting, almost shy, for he'd never had to speak them to anyone before. "It was very important to me. That's why you don't need to buy my time. That's why finding all that money in my pocket made me wonder, for a while, whether you thought you DID have to."
Klaha gazed at Gackt helplessly, almost shamefully. Softly, he said, "I just didn't want you to get hurt."
Gackt looked up now, quickly. "You didn't?" he asked, both surprised and almost sarcastic because of his immediate inability to believe this. He still felt a little bit of hurt, a little bit of anger, at the fact that Klaha would offer him money for his time just like everyone else. "That was all, then?"
"Hai. I felt horrible when I saw that Yoshiki beat you because of ME, because I was the one who kept you from getting the ... the money. I knew it was my fault, and I hated that."
"Hated what?"
"Being responsible for your pain." Klaha swallowed. "That's the last thing that I want. I hated seeing that he hit you because of me." He bit back some of his opinions which he could have uttered about Yoshiki, who he had come to hate even though he knew that Gackt still cared for the man. Klaha looked at Gackt seriously, his eyes betraying his feelings. "I told myself then that I would never let myself be the cause of your pain again."
Gackt was staring at him, blinking rapidly once or twice, silent. No sarcasm now, only surprise.
"That's why I gave you the money. Not because I thought I needed to buy your time. Not because I think of you as a cheap fuck, like so many of those other assholes do." Klaha didn't know why HE was being so profane, but he was feeling so emotional right now, so impassioned to Gackt's suffering, that tears had come to his eyes and he couldn't hold his language back. "I just wanted to keep you from getting hurt. I COULD just stop coming to see you, and by doing that, you would have enough time to earn the money you need. But I'm not going to stop spending time with you. I want to see you. You're my friend, and I care about you. I don't even want to THINK of anyone hitting you ... let alone anyone TOUCHING you." He barely got the words out, suddenly self-conscious, flushing.
Gackt seemed both startled and self-conscious also, abruptly, as he gazed at him. His cheeks began to turn a bit of a darker pink in turn. "I didn't know you cared that much," he whispered, looking away, frowning.
"I do."
Gackt nodded, slowly. "Then ... I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."
"I'M sorry if I hurt YOURS."
After a moment, Gackt smiled a tiny smile at him, looking up from the ground. Klaha couldn't help but smile back.
"But don't try to give me any more money."
Klaha bit back a laugh and shook his head.
Even though Klaha was clearly forgiven for his little trick that first time, Gackt didn't allow it to happen again. He knew that Klaha didn't mean it the way it seemed, but Gackt didn't want to take any money from him. After all, he said, he only took money from his customers---from those same "assholes" who only thought of him as a "cheap fuck", in Klaha's words. Gackt didn't want to classify Klaha in the same category as them, and he didn't want to lower himself by taking money from Klaha.
So they worked it out a different way. Gackt became more efficient and managed to get in more jobs during times of the day and night when Klaha was not with him, and Klaha tried not to keep Gackt away from work any longer than he had to, even though it was hard to let him go. And over time, Gackt got beaten less by Yoshiki for not having enough money. He was still beaten often, of course, for other things, but he refused to let Klaha see those bruises on him, even the ones out in the open, on his face or neck or arms, which couldn't be hidden. Klaha was always worried about him, but Gackt didn't like to talk about Yoshiki's violence.
[Several days later]
Klaha was looking for Gackt, but he wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere, in fact, to be found. And something told Klaha that Gackt wasn't with a customer right now.
Therefore, the following day, when it was raining and he had to bring a black umbrella along with him, he hurried after school to Gackt's slum and stood out on the street, looking for him. He could see another young man, almost pretty enough to be a girl, standing across the street and down a block from him, in a kimono and holding an umbrella also. Not Gackt, but clearly one of Yoshiki's other whores. Klaha had come to recognize some of them.
Klaha thought to himself, 'Gackt must be around here somewhere, then.'
He stood about a block down from Gackt's apaato, just waiting. He cast glances at the building a few times, just in case he'd see Gackt coming out the front door, but then gave up and started looking around, in the opposite direction. He was worried about Gackt, wondered why he hadn't been there the previous day, and so he just waited for now, and missed it when Gackt actually DID walk silently out of the apartment building.
It was cold. Freezing rain. The dead of winter. Klaha shivered, propped the umbrella against his shoulder, and rubbed his hands together.
"Klaha."
Klaha nearly jumped a mile, and as his hands tensed immediately, the umbrella fell from his shoulder onto the ground. He whirled around, suddenly getting soaked with a coat of moisture. His eyes only took in a flash of a figure that he immediately registered to be Gackt, after identifying the voice, before he reached down and grabbed the umbrella again, holding it up over both their heads. He moved closer to Gackt, to keep him out of the rain, also. Klaha still hadn't looked down yet, as he pulled Gackt beneath the wide umbrella, so both of them would fit. "Here, stay under this with me. It's freezing out! You'll catch something if you're not careful."
And then, he halted, looking down. Gackt wasn't looking at him. He was standing there silently, allowing Klaha to touch him and try to defend him from the cold, but as he clutched his kimono around him, he was staring off into the distance. He seemed to be concentrating very hard, so as not to look at Klaha. His hair was damp now, for his unguarded trip from the door to Klaha's umbrella had left him slightly wet. But what Klaha noticed was his face. Once again, Gackt's lips were slightly bruised, and one of his cheeks was swollen a bit. There was a cut next to his eye, and on his neck, there was not only a dark pink bruise on his throat---a fierce kiss-mark---but what even seemed to be like teeth marks, from a vicious bite, lower, near his shoulder. The bandage had disappeared two days ago, but now it was back, for Yoshiki had re-twisted his wrist.
When Gackt ended up looking like this, it was hard for an outsider to understand how he could go out and prostitute himself without his customers wondering what on earth had happened to him.
Klaha gasped, his eyes flying open. Blinking very quickly, he was too stunned to say anything at first, but then his arm, which had been lightly touching Gackt, now snaked around the boy's body and pulled him in front of him, still under the umbrella, but more in sight.
Gackt let himself be moved, but struggled to look away again.
When Klaha had Gackt facing him, he leaned the umbrella against his shoulder again and reached out, feeling his heart breaking. He tilted Gackt's chin up with one hand, and put his other hand on Gackt's shoulder. Tears came to his eyes as he gazed down at Gackt with ultimate concern. "A-Are you ... Are you all right?"
Gackt nodded once. Said nothing.
"What happened?"
For a moment Gackt was going to reply, but bitterly closed his lips and shook his head.
Klaha felt anger welling up in him suddenly, but made sure that his touch didn't get violent as it brushed against Gackt. He had resolved never to make Gackt fear him, never to make Gackt feel pain, as others so often did. "It was Yoshiki," he said now, controlling himself, "wasn't it?"
Gackt glanced up at him slowly. Nodded. Then his eyes slid away.
"What happened?" Klaha repeated now, staring at Gackt, at the marks everywhere on him. "Why ... Why would he ...?"
"He needs a reason?" Gackt resentfully said, very softly.
Klaha could feel Gackt's pain, and became more tender. His anger was starting to melt away. Yoshiki himself, even though he was the cause of Gackt's pain, started to slip from his mind, as all of his attention was focused on Gackt, who he cared so much about. He said quietly, "Probably not. I've seen that by now. But I can tell that there's something behind what he's done to you this time."
Gackt fell silent again, and took a long breath, saying nothing.
"Why did he do it?"
At last, Gackt forced himself to speak. "Because of you," he whispered.
Klaha's eyes widened. "Me?" he repeated, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"
Gackt hated Yoshiki suddenly. He always cared about Yoshiki, always, even though he'd long lost his respect for the other man and was left only to worry about him and resent him for what he often did to him. But now, he hated Yoshiki for feeling as though he could come between him and Klaha. "He thinks that you're taking me away from him."
Klaha furrowed his brows. The sound of the rain thundered down on their umbrella. "He ..."
"He knows how much time I spend with you." Gackt looked up now, and held Klaha's gaze, his eyes searching his. "I thought he didn't. I don't see him much during the day, when I'm working, so I assumed that he doesn't know what I do or who I see, even besides you. But somehow, he does. He always does. And somehow he knows that I'm with you, so much of the time. He knows how much I care about you."
Klaha couldn't help but feel his heart flutter, to have Gackt say that last statement. A blush fought to creep into his cheeks, but he willed it away. "He does?"
"Hai." Gackt nodded.
"And because of that, he ...?"
"Mostly. I think his entire day had been problematic when he finally decided to take it up with me. He was angry about other things, so his fury about this wasn't easy to get rid of. He just exploded." Gackt swallowed.
"How did it happen?" Klaha asked gently.
"Like it always happens." Gackt spoke bitterly again. "I came home from work, not too much later than I usually do ... maybe around three or four in the morning this time." He didn't notice Klaha wincing, remembering how many hours of the day Gackt whored himself. "I wasn't late, because I'd only had a few customers after you and I said goodbye. No one was home when I got there, since that happens sometimes, so I resolved to go to sleep, get some rest before work in the morning. But he came home, drunk as usual." His eyes darkened, pained slightly. "He wasn't going to tolerate anything from me. He accused me of trying to walk out on him, of sleeping around on him. He hates you. He thinks that I'm planning to leave him for you."
Klaha blinked, still trying to keep himself from blushing. "He does?" he said again.
Gackt paused a moment. "I tried to tell him that it wasn't true. But of course he didn't believe me. He always seems to think that I'm lying to him. So we argued for a little while, and that's when he did this. But it's nothing new." He tried to divert Klaha's attention from his injuries, tried to brush them away as though they didn't matter, for indeed he received them all time. "Then he told me that if I ... if he found out that I ever slept with you, then he would kill me." He swallowed, suddenly timid, or frightened, even.
Klaha was stunned. "Nani? He wouldn't!"
"He would. I know him. But he said after he killed me, he would kill YOU. That was even worse ..."
"Why?"
"Because I know that he'd do that, too." The way that Gackt looked at him right then betrayed not only his affection for Klaha, but his worry, should anything happen to him. "And I don't want you to get hurt." His voice was almost shaking. "I don't know what I would do if you WERE hurt. I'm almost afraid to think of what I'd do."
Klaha frowned, shocked to see how unguarded and weak Gackt seemed now. He grabbed Gackt's hands suddenly. They were even colder than his own. "Don't talk like that!" he whispered. "Nothing's going to happen to me."
"But it might. You don't know Yoshiki." Gackt shook his head. "For some reason, he hates the idea of you and I together. Probably because he knows that you're my only friend, and that you treat me so much better than he does." He winced. "He thinks that I'll leave him behind, for you, that I've cheated on him with you. He doesn't know that we're only friends, he thinks that we're more. And he hates that idea so much, that if he found out that it was true, and I HAD slept with you, then he probably wouldn't hesitate to pick up his gun ... and shoot me."
Klaha swallowed. "He has a gun?"
"Of course. Somewhere." Gackt dismissed this, heaving a tiny sigh of expressionlessness even though his eyes said differently. He said nothing, of course, about the fact that Yoshiki's gun was illegal, considering the laws on weapons possession.
Klaha shook his head and stared down at him. "But what kind of person would ... would get so angry that he'd kill his own lover, just because ...?"
"Yoshiki would," Gackt only said after a moment. "He's lost all control of himself by now, anyway. If I ever mattered to him, I probably don't anymore. Not the way that I should ... And he certainly wouldn't hesitate to at least try to attack you somehow. It doesn't matter to him that you aren't even an adult yet, or that you're still in high school. He gets so upset sometimes that he'll think of anyone as an enemy, no matter who they are."
Klaha was silent. He looked down at Gackt, at Gackt's half-closed, averted eyes.
For a moment he could almost understand Yoshiki. He hated the man, but after a time he was almost able to sympathize with his possessiveness for Gackt. Not the way he acted on it, but the feeling itself. It was so easy to feel proud, overprotective, even clingy when someone as beautiful and fascinating as Gackt was in his grasp. But then, Klaha knew, Gackt wasn't his. Probably would never be his. Right now he could only think of Gackt's lot in life, as he observed him now.
Tears came to his eyes again, and though his touch was more gentle as he held Gackt's hands, he started to clutch them a bit more tightly. Slowly, Gackt looked up at him, meeting his eyes. Klaha tried not to start crying, blinking to make the tears go away. "And because he thinks that someone is going to take you away, and actually care for you ... he would do this to you ..." he murmured, staring at Gackt's bruises.
Gackt shook his head helplessly, silently, not saying anything.
"Doesn't he realize that you deserve so much more than him?" Klaha said.
"Don't say that," Gackt whispered, his voice hard.
"But it's true ..." Klaha held on to Gackt's hands with one of his own, but lifted the other to Gackt's face. Gently enough to prove to Gackt that he wasn't going to hurt him, that he would never hurt him, he stroked his fingers down the side of Gackt's swollen cheek, sadly examining the bruise. Gackt shivered a little bit, his eyes closing, but it didn't hurt, so he didn't pull back. "I wish that I could help you more," Klaha said to him now, quietly. "I wish that I COULD take you away from him, so that you wouldn't have to do any of this anymore. So you wouldn't have to let him do this sort of thing to you all the time."
"It's a hopeless dream, Klaha." Gackt wanted to brush all this off, but it was impossible. Once again, he swallowed, and couldn't help his voice sounding a bit pleading. "Onegai. You'll only make it worse for me."
"I don't want to do that."
"Then let me go." Gackt spoke softly, kindly, not trying to be offensive, as he started to inch backwards. He kept his eyes off of Klaha's, and clearly feared what would happen if he looked into Klaha's again and saw something there. "If I leave, then ... then we ..." He couldn't finish that sentence, and said instead, "I have to get to work."
"No," Klaha pleaded. "I don't want you to."
Gackt sighed, turning his face away.
"Don't you know how much it hurts me when I let you leave?"
Gackt stopped, and looked up at Klaha suddenly, no longer able to avoid his eyes. "Klaha ..."
"I think about you all the time. I worry about you ... I don't know if you knew that, but you probably do." He almost blushed with embarrassment, but then his expression became sad again, and his eyes became distant. "I think about what happens to you ... what you have to go through ... and I even cry for you. I've never cried for anyone else before. It sounds selfish, but it's true."
Gackt's brows furrowed painfully. "Please ..."
"Nani?"
"I have to go to work." Said it yet again, pleading, hoping Klaha would let him leave.
But Klaha did not release his hands. He gazed down at Gackt, letting out a long breath, and seemed pained. "That's what makes me feel that way," he said softly. "When I think about your work. I know what it does to you. I wish, so much, that there was something I could do, so you wouldn't have to do that anymore. I thought I told you how much it hurts me when I think about people, with you. When I think about them touching you." He bit on his lip, hard. "It makes me angry, too." Jealous, but he didn't dare say that.
Gackt's eyes were dull. He was looking at Klaha, hearing his words, and trying to understand them, even though he couldn't comprehend how Klaha could feel this way. At last, he tried to pull away. "I have to go."
"Wait," Klaha requested pleadingly.
Slowly, he drew Gackt closer to him. After touching Gackt's face he had started to hold the other boy's fingers with both hands again, and now, he moved forward, while he gently pulled Gackt towards him. Gackt's face was soft, blank, though it was injured and his eyes showed his pain. The sound of the rain faded into the distance as Klaha almost closed the distance between them. A blush almost rose into Gackt's face, his eyes changing to be desperate, confused, upset, maybe even hopeful also, battling all these other emotions. At the last moment, Gackt's eyelashes fluttered out of anticipation, as Klaha leaned closer and closer. Klaha began to close his own eyes.
But then, just when Klaha's lips were less than an inch away from Gackt's, the latter boy whispered, "No." He was so close that his breath came out on Klaha's lips, scented of absolutely nothing except pureness, of warmth, and Klaha halted, for just a moment.
Gackt swallowed hard, staring deep into Klaha's eyes.
Klaha hesitated, surprised. What he did see in Gackt's face? Fear. Apology. Despair. He felt Gackt's body almost touching his, the muscles tensing, the frame wavering slightly, as though he wasn't sure whether he should move forwards or backwards. But that look in his eyes was certain. He couldn't do this. Maybe he wanted to, but he was convinced that he wouldn't.
"No," Gackt said again, roughly, stifling a small gasp.
For a moment he remained standing there, stunned, gazing up at Klaha. "Why do you want to kiss ME?" he whispered now, almost fiercely, unbelievingly, confused. His voice was unsteady again. "Don't you know how many people have kissed me?"
Klaha didn't blink, gazing back at him softly, still so very close. "I don't care."
"You SHOULD." Gackt swallowed, hard. "You should." He started to move backwards, delicately, turning his gaze away, and he drew his hands from Klaha's. He backed up from him, so that he exited the shelter of the umbrella, and was out in the darkness of the streets again, as the rain fell down on him. He didn't seem to notice, even though his body shivered instinctively from the cold wetness soaking him again. Water ran down from his hair into his eyes as he inched back, but he only blinked it away.
Klaha stared at him, his hands feeling empty suddenly, and he took a step. "G-Gackt ..."
"I'm sorry." Gackt's voice was more stable now, and he turned back for a moment, staring back at Klaha with sad, but affectionate eyes. "I have to go to work now. You should go home, and get out of the rain. I will see you tomorrow."
And he walked away.
[Soon after]
"Who is she?" Gackt asked curiously, pointing to the television screen.
Klaha looked over Gackt's shoulder, observing the flashing image of the girl. "Hmm ... I don't know. I think she's some pop star."
"Sou ka."
They were sitting in Klaha's large living room, down in front of the couch. Klaha was sitting with his back against the front of the couch, and Gackt was positioned in front of him and to the side, sort of leaning back against Klaha's chest. Klaha had one arm around Gackt's waist, which he'd managed to slide there when Gackt wasn't paying too much attention, and Gackt had grown comfortable with that. Gackt had a bowl of popcorn in front of him, which Klaha had generously prepared, and was munching occasionally on it as they flipped channels inquisitively and saw what was playing.
Klaha's parents weren't home, fortunately. They still didn't know that Klaha had made friends with Gackt, but then, Klaha wasn't looking forward to telling them. If his mother and father discovered that he had made friends with a male prostitute who had dropped out of school, who was poor, and who was barely older than him, hardly no longer a minor, then ... he didn't even want to know that they'd think, or do.
"This is boring," Klaha decided, and changed the channel.
"Oi!" Gackt blinked, and grabbed the remote out of Klaha's hand. He changed it back. "I was watching that."
"Why? You don't even know who she is," Klaha pointed out, cuddling a little closer to Gackt as he was the one to now point at the girl who was singing on the screen.
"No, but she has a pretty voice."
Klaha sighed. "Whatever, whatever. It's your day off, so I'll humor you."
Gackt silently turned back to the television screen, munching on another bite of popcorn. Clearly he felt a bit uncomfortable to have Klaha clinging to him like this, but something inside kept him from pulling away.
About a half an hour later, the show with the girl had ended, and the clock on the mantle across the room rang six times to indicate that it was six o'clock in the evening. They tried futilely to find something else to watch, but at the moment, television was incredibly boring, and nothing interesting was on. Klaha glanced up for a moment, and then blinked, surprised, staring at the window. "Ara!"
Gackt looked at him. "Nani?"
Klaha pointed at the window. "Snow!"
Surprised, Gackt followed the direction of his finger with his eyes and saw, truly, that some tiny crystals of snowflakes were drifting down outside. It was so rare that they got snow, even though it had grown quite cold by now. Gackt smiled, wistfully. "I haven't seen snow for a while ..."
"Neither have I." Klaha grabbed the remote again and flicked off the television. "Nothing good on."
"That's all right." Gackt leaned back, watching the snow. "I'd rather just sit here, anyway."
Klaha blinked. Did that mean that Gackt preferred his company to entertainment? But if he had expected Gackt to snuggle up to him or say something else, he was mistaken. Gackt merely remained seated where he was, leaning back in Klaha's arm, gazing at the darkened window in silence. Whenever he was left to himself, his eyes tended to become empty and expressionless, as though to guard himself while whatever tortured thoughts he was thinking took him over. Klaha looked at him for a moment, at his close range, and tried not to become worried. "Gackt ..."
"Hai?"
"Do you mind if we talk a little?"
Gackt seemed to sense that something was on Klaha's mind. He turned his eyes away from the window and looked back at Klaha through his hair. "Of course I don't. You don't have to ask me to talk to me, you know." He paused for a moment. "Is it about something in particular, or just anything?"
"Well ..."
"Nani?"
Klaha felt a bit embarrassed, wondering whether he should ask this. He continued to watch Gackt, knowing that his words might affect him. "Actually, I wanted to talk about something that might upset you."
Gackt almost smiled. "Nothing could upset me."
"Well then ..." Klaha said softly. "What if I wanted to ask you about ... about prostitution?"
Gackt became still. "Oh," he merely said, quietly.
Klaha swallowed. He saw the way that Gackt's eyes dimmed slightly, and he hoped instantly that he hadn't offended the other boy. After all, it was unusual that Gackt had the evening off, and here Klaha was, asking him to talk about the very thing he'd gotten away from! Klaha held Gackt a little tighter, even as he felt Gackt flinch a tiny bit. "G-Gomen ... I shouldn't have said anything."
Gackt shook his head. "No, don't take it back. You shouldn't apologize." He hesitated a moment. "So what is it that you want to ask me?"
"You mean you don't mind talking about it?"
"I'll talk about it, for you." Gackt looked back at Klaha again.
Klaha felt a little rush inside him. Keeping his calm, he managed a smile. "Arigato, Gackt. I'm ... I'm glad that you trust me."
Gackt looked away. "I do," he said softly.
"Then ..."
"Ask me whatever you want to know. I'll try to answer you."
Klaha fell silent. He'd known that he wanted to ask Gackt about what prostitution was like, but suddenly his mind was blank. He couldn't think of a precise question, but his mind was overwhelmed with curiosity. He had no idea what it was like for a prostitute, still, even though he'd been friends with Gackt for months now. He had only seen Gackt with Yoshiki, and that didn't really count, because they were supposed to be lovers, no matter what their relationship seemed like to Klaha.
Finally, Klaha managed to concentrate on what he was supposed to be thinking about. He couldn't help but remember the last time he'd gone to find Gackt, had listened at his door, and had actually heard loud female moans along with Gackt's softer ones. Now, he mumbled his question.
Gackt gave him a funny look. "Speak up. I can't hear you."
Blushing slightly, he asked, "What ... What kind of ... customers ... do you have?"
Gackt halted. "All kinds."
"Well." Klaha tried to think of how he could phrase his question without telling Gackt that he'd heard him with a customer, and more than once, but finally realized that he had to admit himself. Softly, he confessed, "I went to find you the other day ... on Thursday, when you and I didn't spend any time together ... because when I looked for you, you weren't on the street, so I went to your apaato. But I didn't go in, because I could hear through the door, and I could tell that ... you were with someone."
Gackt nodded, an expression of brief pain flickering into his eyes. Contrary to what Klaha believed, Gackt knew that Klaha had probably heard him with a customer before. Gackt knew that Klaha came to find him almost every day, and since there were days when they didn't see each other, Gackt could only assume that he'd been with a client when Klaha had looked for him. "Hai," he responded. "But I don't understand. What do you want to know?"
Klaha explained carefully. "I listened for a minute, to make sure I wasn't barging in on anything, though of course, by then I realized that if I tried to go in, I would be. I heard your voice ... and someone else's. It sounded a lot like a woman."
Gackt couldn't remember every sexual experience he had. But he nodded, looking away. "Hai ...?"
Klaha was flushing now again. "Well, I ... I thought that your customers ... were only men."
Gackt shook his head. "Nine times out of ten, they ARE only men."
"But you get offers from women, too?"
"Hai."
Klaha blinked to himself, thinking about this. He realized that Gackt had probably had experience with being dominant during sex as well as submissive, and most of that practice had probably come from being with girls, or women, instead of men. In fact, to Klaha, Gackt had always seemed more like he would be better as the man in a relationship, rather than the woman. But such thoughts were foolish. And it was hard for Klaha to picture a woman coming up to Gackt and asking him to take her to his apaato for an hour. "And how old are they? The ... The women that ask you, I mean."
Gackt tried to think about this. "Older than me."
That brought another question to mind, and Klaha uncertainly asked, while watching Gackt, "And how old are ALL your customers ...? Usually, I mean ... Most of the time."
"Older than me," Gackt repeated.
"Women and men?"
"Hai."
"Have you ever ... done it for someone who was younger than you?" Klaha asked hesitantly.
Gackt fell silent yet again. His eyes slowly roved the room as he sank into deep thought, and they focused on the clock for a moment, watching the hands click gradually and methodically around the face of the timepiece. He softly said, "Yes, I have."
"Often?"
"No," Gackt confessed. "They're almost always older than me. It's very rare that someone younger than me comes to look for whores ... I think it's only happened, with me, about a handful of times at most. They always seem much too young to be getting into that sort of thing," he said quietly, thoughtfully. "Still in school, sometimes my age. Rich boys, who have enough money to afford me. If I could refuse them, I would, because I really don't like the idea of being involved in something like that, with someone too young. But they offer me money, and I ... I can't refuse." His voice was strained and almost inaudible.
Klaha knew that Gackt hated talking about his poverty, and the fact that the reason he sold his body was because he needed money so badly. Therefore, he tightened his arms around Gackt a little more, trying to comfort him with his presence. "I know," he said softly.
Gackt didn't say anything.
They sat there a moment, and then Klaha began to realize Gackt's discomfort at having Klaha touch him so intimately. Klaha was the one that Gackt trusted the most these days, but even Klaha couldn't expect Gackt to be entirely comfortable with touching him, even if they were just friends, even if Klaha hated the idea of making Gackt uncomfortable. When Klaha felt Gackt tensing up slightly in his arms after holding him tighter, he loosened his grip and then released Gackt.
Again, Gackt didn't speak, but he let out a small breath that was almost relieved. However, he leaned back against Klaha slightly, hesitantly, wanting to tell the other boy that he liked his presence anyway.
Klaha smiled. As he did so, he reached up to the head in front of him and gently picked up short pieces of Gackt's pretty hair. Gackt seemed to like the sensation, rather than grow uneasy, so Klaha started idly to braid the other boy's hair in his fingers, liking the feel of it. "Can I ask something else?" he questioned shyly
"Hai."
"How does it go? I mean ... how does it begin?"
"How does what begin?" Gackt asked, confused.
"A ... date." Klaha winced to say the word, still flushing. "I don't know what to call it ..."
Gackt shook his head weakly. If only Klaha knew how much it hurt him to talk about this, to him, of all people. "No, that's ... that's fine. A date. I can't think of any other word for it either." He heaved a sigh. "Well, they always come to me ... I never come to them. Some of the others go to bars, to sleazy places, and actually solicit themselves, but I can't make myself do that. I can't do it. It's bad enough that I have to do any of it at all ... so how can they expect me to go up to them and ASK them to fuck me?"
Klaha was shocked. "Gackt ..."
Gackt shook his head another time, calming down. "I usually don't have to worry about not getting enough business, anyway. The people always come to me," he said again.
---That's because you're so beautiful.---
"What do they say to you?"
"They tell me what they want, for how long."
Klaha asked curiously, even though he still felt uncomfortable with asking Gackt the questions that had been going through his mind for so long, "Do you tell them how much you want from them? What you want them to pay? Do you have ... rates?"
"Rates?" Gackt laughed humorlessly. "No."
"Not by the hour ... or something?"
"No, I don't do that." Gackt shook his head.
"Then how do they know how much they have to pay you?"
Gackt explained, "THEY tell ME."
Klaha stopped. "Nani? They DO?"
"Hai. It's not too hard to understand." He flinched again. "I stand on the street---they know what I am and why I'm there. It's almost impossible not to be able to tell that I'm selling myself. They come up to me, if they want me, and like I said, they tell me what they want, for how long. Then they tell me how much they intend to pay me for it. Sometimes they offer too much, sometimes too little, and I ... I try to negotiate, if I have to." He closed his eyes briefly. "Usually we can come to an agreement, and then we decide whether they want to take me to their homes, or whether they have wives, children. In those cases, they have to come to mine."
"Oh," Klaha could only say.
"Sometimes people buy me for someone else."
"Nani?"
"As a gift," Gackt bit out, contemptuously. "It's different, almost worse, than when just one person comes up to me and asks me to spend time with them. Sometimes they say that they want me to wait there for someone else to come and pick up, or they say that it's someone's birthday and he's going to take me to his house and surprise him with me." His eyebrows furrowed. "As though I'm just an object. A present, to be wrapped up and handed around, traded between friends."
"That's horrible," Klaha said understandingly, appalled at this.
"Just recently it was someone's twenty-fifth birthday. His brother ... his BROTHER ... came to buy me for him." Gackt pressed his fingernails into the skin of his palm, to concentrate on something while he spoke. "He brought me to this place just out of town ... far away enough for it to be a large, nice place, but close enough not to make me wander too far from home. There was a party going on. Now, the man's brother brought me up to the room. The one whose birthday it was today was waiting there for me.
"So I ... I did it. At least everyone else was downstairs, so I didn't have to worry about being watched while it happened." He swallowed again. "But when it was over, the man ... passed out. And I had to wait there until he woke up, because when he did, he paid me. Then he took me downstairs, and some people were still there. They cheered, for the man, for him having been able to say that he'd had sex on his birthday. They were all looking at me, smiling at me, laughing at me." He closed his eyes. "I hated it."
Klaha said nothing, only gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. He tried not to show that he was horrified.
Gackt tried to wish away his pain. "Is there anything else you want to ask me?" he whispered.
"Do they ... Do they want you to talk to them?"
"Who?" Gackt asked, without turning around. "My ... customers?"
"Your customers," Klaha confirmed quietly, still toying with Gackt's hair.
"Well, I suppose it depends on the person," Gackt managed, with effort. "There are many different kinds of customers. In the beginning I thought that they were all the same, but really, they're different. Some of them want me to talk, because they want to think that they're really good people inside, no matter what they're doing, now, with someone like me. So they want me to talk, in hopes that they'll find a way to treat me like a real person. Then they'll have the satisfaction, at least, of telling themselves that they're not treating me like an object. Even though they ARE," he added bitterly, sorrowfully.
"What do they want you to talk about?"
"Who I am. What my life is like."
Klaha swallowed. "Like ... Like I'm asking you now, you mean." His hands stopped in Gackt's hair.
Gackt's eyes widened slightly. He turned around and looked at Klaha over his shoulder intensely, reaching up and putting his hand on Klaha's wrist, which had become still. "No," he told him now, shaking his head. "Different than you. I know you don't think of me like they do."
Klaha watched him sadly. Then, reassured, he almost smiled a little bit, and went back to braiding Gackt's hair. Gackt turned around again, sighing slightly. Klaha asked carefully, "What are the other kinds of customers?"
Gackt settled back against Klaha. "The other kinds ...?"
"Hai. And which ones want you to talk."
He paused to think about this, and bit on his thumbnail. "There are the kinds who don't want me to talk at all. They all have their own reasons for that. It may be because ... they feel so uncomfortable with what they're doing, because normally they would never do this, or they just didn't get any for so long that they became desperate and had to resort to something they always used to look down on: actually picking up a WHORE." He tried not to make a face, in his pain. "So they just want to get it over with, until they're satisfied and can leave and can forget that it ever happened. They don't want me to say anything.
"Or, they don't want me to talk because they just ... don't want to hear what I have to say. Don't think that I HAVE anything important to say ..." He weakened. "Those are the ones who, for some reason, have the belief that prostitutes aren't human. That because we have to give ourselves away and be so cheap, we have given up the last of our honor, and are just there to be used for pleasure. They don't consider us WORTH speaking to." He paused, painfully. "I ... I get a lot of people like that."
"Oh," Klaha whispered.
After a pause, full of a time when Klaha's mind was crowded with images that started to disturb him, he summed up the courage to ask, "Do you have any ... dangerous customers?"
"Everyone's dangerous, Klaha. I haven't caught any diseases, if that's what you mean."
"I mean ... abnormal customers."
Gackt shook his head. "You're still not being clear."
"Well, there are a lot of ways to be dangerous," Klaha said softly, "or abnormal. Even if humankind is good at heart, Gackt, I know that everyone has their own perversion, whatever it is. Do any of them like to do things to you, or have you do things, or say things, or ... or whatever ... that you normally wouldn't do?"
Gackt swallowed. "You mean, customers with fetishes."
"H-Hai."
"I get a lot of those," he murmured with one nod.
Klaha began to feel worried again. "Tell me about it."
Gackt braced himself. "We were just talking about the ones that either like me to talk or don't," he began, taking comfort in Klaha's warmth and the feeling of Klaha's fingers fiddling with a few tiny braids in his hair. "There are some who want me to talk to them. A lot. They ... They want me to say things to them that I would never say otherwise." Things that made his stomach turn, and caused him to shiver a little bit. "They want me to talk dirty. Bastards ..." he at last muttered. He hated the people who made him feel so submissive, so humble.
Klaha stopped again. His eyes widened. "Hounto ni? People like that DO come to you?"
Gackt only nodded.
"And ... And what else?"
"There are other ones who like to watch." Gackt fixed his eyes on a shadow across the room, trying to find a focus in it. "There have a been a few who haven't even wanted to touch me. But ... they want to watch me touch myself."
"Nani?" Klaha gasped.
"I hate it," Gackt whispered again.
Klaha gently stroked his hair.
Gackt swallowed tensely. Once again, he couldn't force himself to turn around and face Klaha. He couldn't believe that he was saying these things that he'd tried to tell himself he would never have to discuss with anyone, but Klaha was different. "There was this time last week," he whispered now. "A man came to me with his boyfriend. They were both young, but not younger than me. They told me that they wanted me, and I didn't know what to say, because there were two of them."
"Did you agree?"
"I had to." He paused. "I let them take me to their place ... and it was a nice place, too, nothing like mine. But I guess even people who seem normal are different, just like you said. The one who paid me told me that he wanted to watch me ... and his boyfriend."
"He wanted to watch you have sex with him?" Klaha asked, aghast.
"Hai," Gackt responded in a tiny voice.
"And you ... you actually did it?"
"I had to," Gackt said again, and his voice was shaking slightly. "But I didn't enjoy it, Klaha. I never do, but this was even more repulsive to me. I had to do it with a total stranger, in a strange bed, in a strange place, with the LOVER of the man I was doing it with watching us across the room. I tried not to look at him the entire time, tried not think about what he was doing while he watched us. It was ... horrible. Even when it was over I could feel his eyes on me, and I felt nauseous."
"Oh, Gackt." Klaha shook his head, controlling himself.
"There are the kind who like pain, too."
To hear Gackt's quiet afterthought, Klaha's voice and eyes became concerned, as he gazed at Gackt for a moment. Wincing to think of what response he might get, he asked softly, "Some customers make you ... they make you HURT them?"
Gackt looked down bitterly. "They try, anyway."
"And do you do it?"
"..."
Klaha's expression suddenly became even more worried, and he leaned closer. "Gackt," he said. "Do you?"
"... If they give me enough money," Gackt whispered, his eyes filling with tears.
Klaha froze. "Gackt ..."
Slowly, Gackt turned his head to look back over his shoulder, over Klaha's hands, at the other boy, through stray brown strands that Klaha had pushed aside when toying with his hair. Gackt's expression was ashamed, meek, grieved, and almost dull, as though he was used to this pain by now. "I have no other choice," he whispered now, his voice slightly trembling. "I have to get that money, Klaha. If I don't ... you know what happens. I don't eat, and I get hit. Why should I care if some perverted, middle-aged businessman wants me to ... beat him, with his belt, and scratch him with my nails?"
Klaha was startled and anguished to hear this coming out of Gackt. His fingers tightened on Gackt's shoulders, but gently, almost rubbing them, as his eyes filled with his own concern. "You shouldn't have to do that," he murmured in dismay.
"But I do."
"You have to do ... things like THAT?" he asked, referring to Gackt's brief descriptions.
Gackt shut his eyes again, wiping the tears away in frustration. He decided not to tell Klaha about the times that the marks on his body were from strangers, not from Yoshiki, the times when his customers wanted to do the things to him that he was describing to Klaha as the way he did them to others. Sexual sadists. Thinking of how Klaha would respond to knowing that Gackt let others hurt him, even though he hated it, made Gackt nervous.
"Hai," he responded instead, mutedly. "A lot of times, they like the belt the best. It's just the easiest thing to do, I suppose. It's not like a lot of people carry whips or candle wax or chains around with them, ne?" He couldn't bring any humor to his voice. "Sometimes they want me to ... tie them up. And I just have to use whatever they have on them." To comfort Klaha, he said quietly, "It's usually not too bad ... not so bad I can't stand it ... but ..."
Suddenly, a flash went through his mind.
---a stranger, tied up with someone's scarf to Gackt's bed---
Gackt stopped moving, his eyes widening, feeling Klaha's puzzled eyes on him.
---"Hit me, damn it!"---
Gackt knew he was starting to tremble.
---"No, I ... I can't ... I'm sorry ..."---
Klaha's confused, but worried arm snuck around him again.
---"If you want the fucking money, then DO it!"---
Gackt felt his eyes filling with tears again, tears of pain, shame, and anger.
---himself, wincing and biting his lip, weakening as he finally faltered and whipped the man with his belt---
"Gackt?" he heard Klaha's voice, to his side, softly.
---the great feeling of discomfort, of fear, of shame, to have to do this---
"I ..." He was unable to speak.
---the man moaning with both pleasure and pain, writhing, begging for more ...---
When Gackt clenched his fists and tried in vain to focus his mind, he was unsuccessful. The images of the unknown man from the past and his horrid demands that Gackt keep on hitting him, again and again, with his own belt, danced around in Gackt's mind. However, when Gackt realized that there were tears stirring in his eyes, he abruptly remembered that he could not, would not cry in front of Klaha, and the images abruptly vanished.
Relieved, he felt calm again, knowing that the memories were in the past, and it was only the present, and the future, that he should be worried for. Gackt took a long, unsteady breath, starting to feel better, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Klaha looking at him with his brows furrowed.
"Are you okay?" Klaha asked him softly.
Gackt only nodded, gazing at him. If only Klaha knew what had just been going through his head ...
"They really make you do it to them?"
Gackt nodded again, and before he could stop himself, even though the tears were gone, his soft voice was slowly speaking, confessing. "The first few times in the beginning when I realized I'd have to do it, I hated it. Hated it so much. I thought I could get out of it somehow, but they ... they wanted THAT. They enjoyed it, and that was the only way I could please them and get the money ... so I ... I did it whenever I met someone who wanted me to. If they told me they'd pay me for it."
He paused for just a moment, taking a short shuddering breath, trying to keep his face neutral. "When I started having to do it, it was only with things like a belt or my hands, the first few times ... and then someone wanted me to use a knife ..." He paused. "I don't understand how people can enjoy that. How they can enjoy doing it, or having it done to them. It just seems so ... wrong." He fought a wave of pain, and disgust. "Sometimes it's almost as bad as when Yoshiki wants me to have sex with him, when I don't want it. I don't know these customers, don't have any reason to care about them, but they have so much power over me. They DEMAND that I hurt them. They know I hate it, they can tell I hate it, especially the ones who like me to use knives and razors. They love it, seeing how uncomfortable I am. They love the look on my face when I'm stained with their blood."
"Gackt," Klaha whispered in shock, interrupting him. He pulled Gackt against him suddenly, unable to hide his own horror to hear these stories.
Gackt let himself be hugged, and let the dreariness conquer the suffering inside him.
Klaha could sense his pain, and hated knowing that he felt it. Klaha furrowed his brows and tried not to think of what Gackt might be doing, right this very minute, if he was working and not here with him. He pulled more of Gackt into his embrace and whispered, "Just don't think about it. You don't have to think about it now. You're not there, you're here. With me. Not them."
"Hai ..."
'Arigato, Klaha.'
NOTES~I'm surprised, but Gackt's character is developing more on its own. It may seem odd and apparently mismatched, but this all has a purpose. The chapters are a little uneven in size, but are you enjoying this at all? Your comments would greatly help me. Domo arigato.
Glossary
apaato: apartment
kuso: shit
gomen (nasai): I'm sorry
nani: what
(domo) arigato: thank you
hai: yes
sou ka: I see
oi: hey
ara: look!
hounto ni: really
To Be Continued
To the next part