Magnify - Chapter 3
Title: Magnify
Author: shiro_koomori
Rating: pg-13
Pairings: You/Gackt, Chachamaru/Andrew [OC of doom], Chachamaru/?
Notes: Thank you for reading, as always. m(_ _)m It’s a little fillerish, and you’ll get a surprise at the end. Whether it’s welcome or not, I don’t know. ;D Gackt's behaviour will be explained, eventually. |D
“Well, aren’t you in a foul mood,” Chacha commented, saddened by his friend’s cold gaze. A week had passed since the incident, and the guitarist had noticed Gackt’s worsening condition. Hell, it seemed like it would go back to the old days, again; keeping him on anti-depressants for months on end; checking that he was okay, and alive, unable to say anything unless the balance they’d finally recovered was thrown wildly off scale, again. Hovering by the phone, waiting for some kind of warning, always having Gackt’s apartment keys at the ready. Cha did not want to go through all that worry and stress, again, which involved days without sleep and weeks of comforting the vocalist. Gackt was like a brother to him, and one of his closest friends. It was his duty to help him.
They sat in silence, looking at each other from across the table- only a distance of two metres between them, but feeling like a mile. Gackt pushed a hand through his hair and leant his elbow on the table, holding his forehead in his palm. The guitarist felt as if he was in an interrogation room, with the modern, glass table between them and the sudden light above. It was dark elsewhere, leaving only the two of them illuminated.
Chacha had turned up outside the man’s door at the beginning of the evening, his back to an open door as he admired the sky, painted with soft pinks, blues and oranges, spotted with white clouds, tainted with purple. The sun was setting and he could see the small, white half-moon to his left.
“Chacha?”
And Cha had turned, a bright smile on his face, greeting the man who looked like death, in front of him.
Gackt was gazing at the table, eyes flickering up and down, left and right as he traced the white, red, brown and black patterns in the wood. “That won’t be any good for your headache. You’ll feel sick.” Chacha commented and Gackt dragged his eyes up from the table to settle heavily on his guitarist.
"Any reason you’re here, Cha?”
The guitarist watched him carefully, deep brown eyes flickering from Gackt’s eyes to his hair, to his lips, to his fingers, which were tapping agitated table, now, and to the other hand, which was rubbing at the base of his neck. God, the man was just like You in the house area. Except, the longer Gackt stayed in doors, the more he wanted to, and the more he grew depressed and self-conscious, which was why he usually tried to stay outside of his house as much as possible. Chacha’s focused on Gackt’s hand again, watching his forefinger picking at the skin around his thumb.
“I need to talk to you…” He started, paused, and understood from Gackt’s expression that it had already clicked. “… about You.” The defensive walls were built up at lightning speed, effectively hiding the castle full of wonders that was Gackt’s mind. The vocalist’s brown eyes went blank, and it was exactly what Cha had been trying to avoid. He hadn’t wanted to invade their personal problems, either, but knew nothing would happen if he didn’t. Even if it was an explosive anger that he sparked, a war between the two, it was better than the stand-still they’d come to, as they carefully danced around one another’s feelings.
“You don’t need to. You want to. How many times do I have to tell you not to get involved, Cha?” Gackt’s voice was laced with anger, and his eyes were cold and piercing, glaring. Chachamaru sighed softly and rubbed at his forehead, nails scratching lightly at his skin.
“I know, but you two-”
“Cha, please. I don’t want to move from here, so, please… don’t.”
“Why not? You loves you.”
“Exactly.” Gackt stressed, and the fierce glare he was giving Chacha was enough to make him pause, and to stop the questions. “That is exactly why.” Nothing else would be revealed tonight, so he left peacefully, angry at himself for interrupting, and even angrier for not interrupting enough.
What had he meant by ‘exactly’? There were so many things he could think of. ‘Exactly’, as in, ‘I don’t love him back’. Well, if what Gackt had been saying all these years about You being his soul mate, was a lie, then… he supposed it was possible. He dismissed it two seconds later. Their feelings were obvious, he’d already established that. What worried Chacha more was the growing affection he held for You. At first, it was fine - he was a little protective and concerned himself with You’s problems constantly, and made sure that You was as comfortable as possible, however.
However, things were starting to change, and his heart clenched as he thought of his long-term lover back at their house, and tightened further when he thought of the violinist. A part of him yearned for Gackt and You to unite. And a guilty part of him wanted them to break apart, completely. Just what exactly am I doing?
At precisely 7:03pm, You raced through his apartment, jumping over boxes of junk and sliding around a table covered in wires, a towel wrapped around his soaking wet body. Damnit! Don’t interrupt my night of relaxation…! What was he doing, exactly? Well, You was playing hide and seek with his mobile phone. The device was exceptionally good at hiding, you see, and it had been ringing constantly for the past hour. Even though it was still shrieking, “You!” he had no idea where it was. In fact, it didn’t seem to be anywhere. It wasn’t in the bathroom, it wasn’t in the kitchen, or in the living room… nor was it under any cushions or in his bedroom. He tripped over something, which would most likely by another pile of junk, and ended up sprawled across the floor face-first, his legs tangled in his towel and the phone still nowhere to be found.
A few seconds later, there was a knock at his door and You panicked. He couldn’t answer the door in just a towel whilst he was still dripping with water from his bath. And then his phone was still screaming at him. He yelled in frustration and stormed to the door, yanking it open with an angry growl. Clumps of wet hair fell forward over his eyes, and Ju-ken leaned backwards, eyeing the fuming violinist in confusion, before carefully slipping past and patting him cautiously on the back, staring at his now wet hand as if it was diseased.
“Where’ve you been, man? I’ve been calling you for the last hour. I thought you’d been killed, or something.”
“Calling me? For the last hour? Killed…?” You watched him carefully, and then his eyes widened. “So it was you! You interrupted my night of rela-” He never got so far as to finish though, because Ju-ken carried on talking.
“Yep, it was me. I was just driving through, and decided to stop by. You were obviously busy, though.” After a few seconds of Ju-ken gesturing to You’s half naked form, he shrugged and jerked his thumb towards the door, eyebrow raised comically. “Bad timing? Want me to go?”
“… No, no… it’s ok… I’ll just- I’m gonna to get dressed.” You’s anger deflated. It was no use blaming Ju-ken, and he shuffled off to change into a pair of jeans and a baggy grey long-sleeved top that fell well past his waist.
After drying his hair and styling it a little, knowing if he didn’t it would go insane tomorrow, he walked out of the room, eyes spotting Ju-ken lounging on the sofa.
“Yo,” Ju-ken called and stood up, “Ready to go?”
“Go? Go where?”
“Out, out, out.” The bassist said enthusiastically, clapping his knees twice and then pointing towards the door with both hands. You eyed him warily.
“Where’s ‘out’?”
“A club. Everyone’s already there, I was sent to pick you up, as you decided not to answer your phone.” Ju-ken mumbled, distracted by the buzzing in his pocket, and immediately he typed out a text to confirm to a certain worrying guitarist that You was perfectly fine.
“Pass.” Blunt and straight to the point. Tonight, he was making pasta, and he was going to relax, and he was going to watch a movie. The end.
“Oh, come o-on…” Ju-ken moaned, silencing the man’s complaints that he was hardly dressed for going out to a club. Ju-ken walked straight passed him into You’s bedroom, and returned with a stylish black coat, which he threw at You, and a matching black scarf. “There. Now you look kinda smart, le’ss go.”
You sighed and followed the bassist reluctantly out of the building and into his car, silently resigning to his fate. Neither of them spoke on the way, and instead they listened to the radio, which You turned off as they Ju-ken parked his car behind the back of the club.
“Who’s here, anyway?” You asked, unclipping his seatbelt and pushing open the car door, whilst Ju-ken did so, himself.
“Uhhmm… Cha, Andrew, Jun-ji, Gaku, Ryu, Miyavi, Toshi and… I think Gackt invited Hyde and Megumi out, but I’m not sure if they’re here or going to be. Y’know, their kid and all.” You nodded and pushed his hands deep into his pockets, shoulders hunching as the cold air bit through his clothes. “… Anyway, Yosh and his girlfriend, Hiromi and Von Risa, and their partners… I think Ryan is here, too,” All the while, Ju-ken was counting on his fingers as they walked towards the entrance, ‘umming’ and ‘ahhing’ the whole way. You wasn’t surprised that Ryan, one of Gackt’s bodyguards, had come along with them. He was pretty young, mid-twenties, liked a bit of a drink, and just as American as the rest of the vocalist’s bodyguards. The limit of his Japanese was a few basic sentences and pick up lines. You’s English consisted of jumbled up sentences and words he couldn’t pronounce. It was a bit of a dead end relationship, really. “I think that’s it.”
“So, just a small amount of people, then?” You joked, and Ju-ken blew air out threw his nose, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah… throwing parties seems to be our speciality, and so does ‘small’ get-togethers,” Mumbled Ju-ken, and he gestured towards the door. “Let’s go?”
You nodded and followed the bassist into the nightclub, breathing in the alcoholic scent, and the distinct heady smell of bodies. A shudder swept through up his spine and he continued on, through the dance floor.