Ma Cherie: Chapter Nine
Author: Scarlet Kozi
"No! What are you thinking?"
Klaha kept his arms firmly folded, knowing that if he relaxed in the slightest bit he might display his anger, and that certainly wouldn't get him very far. After all, he was appealing to his parents for once, and if he wanted them to allow him to let Gackt stay, then he would need to earn their consent. "Onegai, otousama."
His father merely stood there glaring at him for a moment.
It wasn't very long after Yoshiki's death. A few days, maybe. Gackt had eventually been taken out of Klaha's arms, and had stayed with a friend for a couple of nights. Klaha had been forced to leave him, but had despised the idea of what it would be like for Gackt to take care of all the arrangements now that Yoshiki had passed. Yoshiki, after all, had been the owner of the apaato, the caretaker, the pimp ... Now Gackt was unemployed. Klaha was at least thankful that Gackt was no longer a whore. At least, he temporarily was not.
Klaha had at last approached Gackt, and had told him that he could come and stay with him. Almost silently, Gackt went with him. He barely uttered any words, barely took his eyes off the ground. Klaha could simply feel his grief, his dull pain, and ached for him.
Now they were standing in the small area for shoes, but neither Klaha nor Gackt had taken theirs off yet. Klaha attempted to be bold, insistent, still wearing his coat through they were just inside the entrance door, and Gackt was standing to the side and behind him slightly. Gackt was dressed all in black, as though in mourning. No matter that the clothes were slightly tattered: it was the thought that counted. In one hand he held a bag, and his eyes were half-closed as they gazed at the floor. There was no expression at all in his face.
Klaha's parents were standing on the elevated hallway, looking at them. They were both not only shocked but somewhat angered by Klaha's actions. Klaha had been so defiant and withdrawn to them recently, so rebellious, and now, he dared to bring in a scruffy stranger and ask that he be able to stay with them in their home? Preposterous!
Klaha's father disliked the notion. "Who IS this, anyway?" His eyes were guarded, wary, and distrustful as they gave Gackt yet another once-over. Clearly he had made up his mind about Gackt without the boy having even spoken a word to him yet. He could tell that, whoever he was, he was not in their class and thus should have been segregated from his son. Thus, he made a point of his opinions by speaking about Gackt as though he wasn't there.
"His name is Gackt." Klaha gestured to the boy in question.
Klaha's mother seemed more nervous, as she looked anxiously at Gackt. "For what reason could he possibly need to stay with us, Klaha-chan?"
"B ... Because ..." Klaha began, then glanced back at Gackt, who hadn't looked up. Suddenly he was at a loss for words. He couldn't tell them that Gackt was a prostitute whose pimp and lover had died of a drug overdose, so that now, unable to support himself very well, he needed a place to stay.
"Can't he go to a shelter somewhere?" His father's expression curled into a sneer.
Gackt flinched suddenly, without looking up. If he was not so upset, he would have been hated being referred to and thought of like that.
Klaha whirled around and stared at his father. Slowly he became full of rage. He was not able to control it as well as Gackt was, not right now. However, controlling himself, he took one last look at Gackt and then said softly, "Wait here, ne? I'll be right back," before turning to his mother and father. He began to come forward, and he forced his voice to be calm as he said, "Okaasama, otousama, I need to speak to you alone for a moment."
Klaha's parents allowed themselves to be led to the side, but both of them looked almost uncertainly at Gackt over their shoulders. It was as though they didn't even trust him to wait in the alcove, as though they suspected he was base enough to try to steal something or to destroy their property in the few minutes that they would be gone. Klaha, however, nearly pushed his mother and father to a smaller, more private area in the hallway, away from Gackt's eyes.
"Explain yourself," his father immediately demanded, angrily.
"There's nothing to explain."
His mother began to frown. "I don't understand, Klaha-chan. How did you FIND someone like him?"
Klaha knew that he couldn't tell them how much time he'd been spending in the ghettos over the last few months, and so he briefly said, "I met him by accident. It's a long story, but nothing you would want or need to know. I ran into him, and we became more acquainted."
"And what makes you think that he can just move in here with us?" his father asked, folding his arms.
"He needs a place to stay," Klaha responded coolly, staring his father down. "He has nowhere else to go."
His mother started to look unsettled again. "Where are his parents?"
Klaha let out a short sigh, glancing back in the direction of where he'd left Gackt. "Dead," he said quietly. "They're both dead. His father ... ano, his father died before he was born," he lied, "and his mother died when he was only a child."
"Doesn't he have a foster family, or at least something along those lines?" his father gruffly prompted.
"No." Klaha shook his head. "He did, but ... well ... he was just forced to move out. And since he's already turned eighteen, he actually doesn't really need one. But he DOES need somewhere to stay for a little while, until he can find a place of his own to go."
Klaha's father still didn't like the idea. "He could try getting a job, then," he snorted.
"He can't," Klaha countered, irritated. "He didn't graduate from high school."
"Nani?" His mother's eyes widened. "Klaha, are you consorting with delinquents?" She sounded shocked.
"He's not a delinquent!" Klaha disagreed quickly, angrily. He was rapidly losing his temper with his parents. In the back of his mind, he wished that one of his siblings was still living here, so that he could recruit a second opinion to help his situation. Knowing that his parents DID support charity to a point, if nothing else, he explained, "He wasn't able to attend a private school because he simply isn't as fortunate as I am, or as we are. He won't be staying forever. Just until he can get back on his feet. And it won't be any real trouble, because the two of you are rarely home anyway, and I'm capable of taking care of another person."
Silence. His father heaved a frustrated sigh. "All right. We'll let him stay in your sister's room, next to yours, for the time being. Merely for the sake of mercy."
Klaha exhaled a long sigh of relief, suddenly feeling grateful. "Domo arigato, otousama."
"But that doesn't mean that I trust him," his father reminded him sharply. "I know nothing about him, and I have little reason to respect him. If I suspected that he was dangerous or a degenerate of any sort, then rest assured, he wouldn't have my permission to stay. It's his youth that's getting him a room here."
Klaha bit his lip to avoid talking back, and nodded once.
His mother let out a sigh, her hand at her mouth. "I do hope that he's ..." She didn't finish.
What, Klaha thought? A civilized human being? Someone who doesn't eat with his hands? He turned to go and get Gackt. "I'll bring him upstairs."
[The next day]
Klaha's parents left on a trip to Yokohama on business. More accurately, Klaha's father left for Yokohama on business, for an undisclosed amount of time, but Klaha was used to not knowing when his parents would return. His mother had gone along merely to help his father show off their wealth, attractiveness, and good fortune in life. Their trip had already been planned, for weeks.
Klaha didn't mind at all. After all, he had to busy himself with Gackt now.
The room to the left of Klaha's room, on the second floor, was the one that his sister used to occupy when she still lived there. It was equal in size to Klaha's room, only the coloring was a mauve scheme, which Klaha thought in the back of his mind befitted Gackt nicely. It was somewhat feminine, but then, that didn't seem to bother Gackt at all. There was white and mauve bedding, mauve walls, a white ceiling, gauzy curtains on the windows, a wardrobe, a bookcase, a desk, a lady's vanity, a bathroom, and canopy above the bed. Gackt barely looked at all these things when Klaha showed him into the room. Only set his things down, sat upon the edge of the bed, and sat there in silence. So after a time, feeling awkward and worried, Klaha left.
When he heard the clank of the lock being fastened behind him, he was surprised, but left it alone. He didn't expect that the lock would remain clasped for the rest of the day, the night, and the next day. When he woke up the next morning, he knocked on Gackt's door and tried to go in, but it was still locked, and when he offered Gackt breakfast, a soft refusal was all that he heard. He went to school dubiously, and when he returned home, the door was still locked.
Gackt had shut himself away from Klaha, from everything, to nurse his pain. Klaha could understand. 'Oh, Gackt,' he thought, shaking his head to himself.
For the next couple of days, he humored Gackt and allowed him to remain pent up by himself. At least Klaha's parents weren't around to complicate things. Even though he was incompetent at some basic skills, Klaha was able to cook, and he fixed Gackt food at the time of every meal. Klaha wanted to eat with Gackt in the dining room, but knew he'd never be able to persuade Gackt to leave his little fortress. So he brought him food on a tray and knocked softly, left it outside the door, and abandoned it there. Gackt would never say a word. He accepted the food, but when he set the tray back outside again Klaha saw that he had barely touched anything.
Sometimes Klaha listened at the outside of the door, wondering whether Gackt was crying. Never did he hear tears or sobs, and knew that if Gackt WAS crying, he was probably stifling himself in a pillow or something. He was unable to show his pain that well, even now that he had cried in front of Klaha before.
[Four days later]
Klaha was sleeping deeply and peacefully, in rest that he knew Gackt wasn't sharing. He was dreaming of something, but he didn't know what, when he heard a thump.
"Nani ...?"
Sighing to himself, still half-awake, Klaha yawned and rolled over in his bed. It was dark in his room: he didn't like the light much. Slowly he opened his eyes and glanced around. It was very early in the morning, in fact around five-thirty, when the sun was just starting to rise. There was a dim glow, a haze of light that shone in through the windows to illuminate everything.
Some more sounds, this time scuffling noises, drifted into his room through the wall. 'From Gackt's room,' Klaha thought to himself. Gackt was up this early?
For some reason, however, Klaha couldn't just brush the idea away and go back to sleep, even though he would have to get up and get ready for school soon ... too soon. Something was gnawing at his mind, telling him that he should be worried, that he shouldn't just leave Gackt alone. 'I'll go check on him ...'
Klaha pulled himself out of bed. At the moment, even though it was a little past mid-winter, he was wearing a pair of long pajama bottoms and nothing else. He shivered when he pushed his nice, warm covers aside, but tried to ignore the feeling as he got to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, stretching. He stumbled through his room, and when he walked out into the shadowed hallway, he became fully awake.
Gackt's door was, of course, near his, so it took him very little time to get there. He stood before the door hesitantly, wondering what to do. Instead of knocking immediately, he pressed his ear to the door and listened.
A sniffle. A shuffle of a foot again. What was Gackt doing this early?
Klaha shook his head again. 'It's probably nothing,' he scolded himself silently. 'You're being too worried about him. He's dealt with heartbreak like this before. Yoshiki only died about a week and a half ago, but he's seemed as though he may be getting better.' Actually, Gackt seemed changed, much more soft and withdrawn, and Klaha hadn't seen his face for nearly half a week. But that wasn't the point.
Just when Klaha had resolved to go back to his room, crawl into bed, and go back to sleep, there was the sudden sound of smashing glass on the other side of Gackt's door. It rattled Klaha's nerves and made him jump, his heart stopping in his chest, to hear the tinkling and crashing.
"N-Nani?" he gasped, and turned to the door again. Immediately his heart sank. "Gackt!" he said through the door, swallowing. "Let me in!"
Without knowing how, he suddenly knew that the door was unlocked. Only once or twice had Gackt left it unlocked, when he had been forgetful enough after putting his tray of food back outside. Now, Klaha took advantage of the fact that last night had been one of those times, and he pushed the door open, hurrying inside.
He gasped when he entered the room, stopping in his tracks. Gackt was across from him, between the bed and the bathroom. His room was no more illuminated than Klaha's, but it was light enough to see that Gackt was crouching on the floor, facing the wall, his back and his dark hair facing Klaha's eyes. Surrounding him on the ground were dozens of little reflective glass shards, and the broken remnants of a frame. Gackt had broken a mirror.
When Klaha ran into the room, Gackt turned around very slightly, alerted, and Klaha saw his face. He saw the tears that had collected in Gackt's eyes, the fact that one of them had already traveled down his cheek in a path of despair. Then, shocked, Klaha saw that in one hand, Gackt was holding a large, angular shard of glass.
'No blood,' Klaha thought, but was unable to feel too much relief yet. He tried to inch closer, his eyes wide.
However, the moment he moved, it was like the first time the two of them had met. Even though there was still a distance between them, Gackt immediately shifted farther away, looking as though he was afraid of Klaha, even though both of them knew that he wasn't really. He was caught up in his devastation, his grief, and his slender fingers nearly tightened around the piece of glass, giving Klaha cause for alarm. Any tighter and he really would draw blood. "Go away," Gackt choked out now, glaring at him.
Klaha froze where he stood. He didn't want to risk making Gackt hurt himself. However, he just couldn't leave. "Gackt," Klaha whispered, frozen. "Don't."
Gackt stared at him for a long moment. Then his eyes slid down to the piece of glass in his hand, which was trembling slightly. Sniffling once, he slowly turned his gaze back onto Klaha. "Why not?" His voice was soft and rough, barely audible. Klaha had to strain to hear him. "There's nothing left."
"Nani?" Klaha managed, shocked.
"Yoshiki ... Yoshiki is gone ..." Gackt could hardly get these words out. "I never had any parents, never had any family. The only person who ever loved me was hide, and he's been gone for years. For so long I thought that I would be better off without Yoshiki ... for so long I didn't realize how much I needed him, how much I really needed someone else to take care of me ..." He choked, and muffled his sobs.
"But ... But you ..." Klaha tried.
Gackt shook his head once, sniffling again. "I can't do anything," he murmured hatefully. "All I can do is let other people rape me. That's all they're doing really, but they ... they give me money for it, so they don't call it rape. But that's what it feels like ..." He reached up with his empty hand and wiped clumsily at his eyes, squeezing them shut miserably. "And now I don't even have that. I can't do anything," he repeated. "I'm just a whore."
"Don't ever say that," Klaha said, aghast. "You are NOT just a whore!"
"Yes, I am ..."
"No, you're not!"
Gackt shook his head again. "Go away! Please just ... just go away ..." He lowered his hand, showing that his eyes were slightly more red now, and that more tears had freed themselves to flow down his cheeks. He looked at the shard of glass in his hand and lifted it up a bit. "There's nothing ... What is there for me to live for now?"
Klaha stared at him. Summing up his courage, he answered softly, "Me."
Slowly, Gackt looked up at him, his eyes glazed and empty with pain.
"I thought I told you how much you mean to me, Gackt ..." As he spoke, Klaha began to move, inching closer and closer across the floor. "I thought I told you that you were my best friend. You're the only person who really cares about me, and I care about you more than anyone else. Don't you know what would happen to me if you ... if you left?" He swallowed. "Onegai, Gackt ... onegai ... don't do this ..."
By this time, he was by Gackt's side, looking down at Gackt's crouching form. Gackt was staring up at him, hazily, dully. "I ... I don't ..." But he could hardly speak.
At last, just as Klaha was beginning to kneel down slowly next to him, Gackt began to tremble. His hand shook enough for the piece of glass to drop from his fingers, and when it tinkled down on the ground next to all the other shards, he brought his hands up to his face and started to weep. Klaha immediately became tender and leaned forward, pulling Gackt into his arms. "Daijoubu," he whispered to him, smoothing his hair and rubbing his back. "Don't cry ..."
"Klaha ..." the whisper came back.
A few moments passed, and Gackt's crying didn't cease. Klaha was surprised. It had taken Gackt months to even shed tears in front of Klaha, and now, he was relentlessly crying without even trying to restrain himself. Klaha's heart swelled with softness and gratitude for Gackt's new trust in him. At last, he thought to himself that he could find a way to help Gackt feel better, to help him stop crying. "Just hold on to me. Don't let go."
At first Gackt weakly tried to shove him away, but then clutched him, melting into him, still sobbing. Klaha held Gackt against himself tenderly, casting glances down at him occasionally, but Gackt's face was mostly hidden from him. Gackt's cool cheek was pressed against Klaha's chest, and his tears were moistening Klaha's skin, as he softly cried against him, his shoulders heaving with each sob.
A long time passed. When Klaha was going to pull away, he found that Gackt wouldn't let him go. Gackt tilted his head against Klaha's chest, his soft hair grazing his skin. "Please," he whispered, between sobs. He didn't want to beg, but he had no choice. "Please, don't leave me alone ... not you, too ..."
"I'm not going anywhere," Klaha told him gently. He watched as Gackt, still in his arms, tried futilely to wipe away his tears, as even more came and as more weeping gasps took his body with each second. It was so hard for Klaha to see Gackt in pain so often. He knew that he had to comfort Gackt, somehow.
He thought hard. Since childhood, he had always liked to sing, and his parents had even gotten him lessons for a while. They'd loved having their son sing to their friends, to entertain them, and even though Klaha hadn't liked being a parrot for amusement, he still enjoyed singing, even now. He even wrote little songs, sometimes. The tunes would stay in his head, whereas the lyrics, he would write down on paper. He'd never shown them to anyone, sang them for anyone before, but now, it was time.
Klaha felt his heart ache, as the sound of Gackt's sobs drifted up to his ear, so he hastened to think hard for the right song to sing. There were so few that he'd truly memorized, and Klaha had to wonder what piece that he'd written could possibly calm Gackt down.
At last, he remembered the right one. In recent months, Klaha had been getting little ideas for lyrics for one particular song, which he'd thought of a beautiful melody for, also. Gackt had been his inspiration. All the meetings with Gackt, all the sights, all the tears, anything that either heartened or saddened him, had gone into this piece.
'I'll sing that,' Klaha thought to himself, as he cradled Gackt against him. He looked down at Gackt with soft eyes. Gackt had buried his face in Klaha's shoulder, his arms around the other boy's body tightly, and his hair trembled as he cried roughly, painfully, but almost silently by this point. "Shhh," he murmured.
The first notes instantly came to mind, and Klaha cleared his throat, beginning to softly hum the first notes to Gackt. The quietness of the introduction seemed to immediately reach Gackt's ears, for his weeping became slightly more quiet.
The introduction itself was somewhat low and building, a simple and eloquent melody at first that seemed to absorb more power. Words didn't even need to be spoken yet. Klaha's low, elegant voice was enough. The speed began to gradually pick up, and the song took shape. There was a great deal of beauty to the gentle yet forceful preamble, and although it seemed to be telling a story, the lyrics were so poetic that only Gackt himself could truly understand it.
Then, the song increased into the body. It went from introduction to body in a gradual, but sweet way. Klaha's voice pronounced all the words quietly but smoothly, soothingly above Gackt, and he stroked his hand through Gackt's hair, as he rocked him slightly along with the song. Klaha himself became enslaved by the words and the notes coming out of him, as his mind was enslaved by images of Gackt and echoing phrases from Gackt's lips, from the past. There was something touchingly passionate and loving about the song, as though a lover was singing a sweet, soothing serenade to another. That wasn't exactly the case, but ...
And at last, the song was finished. Klaha remained there, holding Gackt tightly, his eyes closed in concentration with an emotional look on his face. Singing always took a lot out of him. Then he returned to life, realizing that the song was over.
Swallowing once, he slowly opened his eyes, taking long, deep breaths. The first thing that occurred to him immediately was that there was now silence in the room. His voice had faded away, but with it, Gackt's sobs had dissipated into stillness.
Klaha looked down, and he blinked several times in surprise, seeing the other boy's reaction. Gackt was just sitting there, as he had been before, but he had lifted his face, and was gazing at Klaha intently, his brows furrowed in an expression of grief, fascination, and overwhelmed curiosity. There were still tear-tracks on his face, but his shoulders were no longer trembling, and he seemed to have recovered somewhat.
"Gackt," Klaha could only say.
Gackt blinked now, as though he hadn't expected to hear another sound now that the song was over, and he looked questioning for a moment. Then, slowly, the pain returned into his eyes, and he gazed at Klaha softly, without moving or speaking.
Worriedly, Klaha saw the moistness in Gackt's eyes, renewed because of how touched he was by the song, even though he was not actually crying. Klaha's brows furrowed in concern, and when he spoke his voice also denoted his worry. "Are you all right?"
Gackt swallowed. Wearily, he said, "I'm sorry to have made you worry.. I don't know what came over me." He paused, then, "I shouldn't have locked myself up in there. It was stupid. If I'd spoken to you first, then ... then maybe I wouldn't have ..." He trailed off.
"Shhh," Klaha said yet again, shaking his head. He embraced Gackt tightly, just once. "It's not your fault."
"Hounto ni?"
Klaha heard the tone in his voice and nodded gently. "I'll clean the glass up."
"Arigato ..."
'No one's ever cared about me like you do, Klaha.'
NOTES~The gap between them is rapidly closing.
Glossary
onegai: please
otousama: father
okaasama: mother
ano: um...
nani: what
(domo) arigato: thank you
onegai: please
daijoubu: it's all right
hounto (ni): really
To Be Continued
To the next part