Warnings: Angst/mentions of homosexuality/romance/brief self-harm
Disclaimer: I do not own Mana, Gackt, or Malice Mizer. I simply own the story. :3
(a/n) Just a tiny drabble to get my creative juices flowing. :3
Mana looked -and more importantly felt- beautiful. His skin was a pale porcelain, his eyes made up just right—his hair and dress were both gorgeous, and his face was covered with a thin, gossamer black veil. He didn't have to look around to see everyone that had gathered; he could feel all of their eyes fixed solely on him. Even his...
Once more, Mana was the only person that those ice blue eyes saw, and it made the cold man happy. He had missed the feeling of those eyes, filled with longing, being trained solely on him. If he could spend forever staring back at him, he would, of that the man had no doubt.
People started coming up to him, speaking to him alone or in groups. He took each of their well-wishes and cliché words with a frozen smile, waiting for the one he actually wanted to hear from. As always, Mana did not dispel the illusion of his feminine beauty by speaking. As Gackt stood, he suddenly wished that he would have the courage to. After all, Gackt obviously knew that he was a man, so surely he could manage whispering a few sweet words to him before leaving him behind? But no, as the blue-eyed man drew closer, Mana lost the will to speak. He had never said 'I love you' before, why start now? It would serve no purpose. It would not change anything. In actuality, he wasn't even sure that he could form the words. Still, as Gackt drew closer to him, the near overwhelming urge to scream those three little words at him, to tell him he felt the same, to tell him he hadn't just been using him, to tell him he never should have left, to beg him to come back was welling up inside of him. Gackt was nearly to him now. The usually impatient and impulsive man had been waiting his turn, perhaps in the hopes of getting to speak with his one real Dear uninterrupted. Mana's cold, dead heart was screaming at him to pull Gackt to him, to speak to him, to kiss him, to do anything as long as he got down from his damn pedestal and showed Gackt he loved him. But he didn't.
He never would.
If only the vain little princess would reach out a single gloved hand and grab onto the love of his life, maybe he could return to the way things had once been. But no, he would never, he could never. His pride wouldn't let him. After so many years of denying his feelings, of denying both their feelings, he could not give into them now. Even as he was about to leave him, perhaps forever, he would and could not speak those three little words. Gackt stepped closer.
Mana was at war with himself; his mind was trying to decide between saying it and staying silent, leaving and staying, crying and screaming. Perhaps he could try a combination of them? No, he was too cowardly to take any chances.
Gackt was right beside him.
Gackt was lifting his veil.
Gackt was kissing him.
Mana's entire world exploded at that first somber, gentle touch of lips. He had been craving that feeling since he had first seen those fake baby blues, and now the sensation was amplified a million fold. Tears were rolling down Gackt's cheeks, soaking their cold skin. The statuesque Mana still could not find the power to cry in front of his former lover, or even the strength to kiss back. Gackt continued leaning over him, even after the kiss had been broken. He hugged Mana, quietly sobbing into his ear, 'Please take me with you, take me with you…' Mana did not respond, did not even wrap his arms around the man he loved. He wanted to at least tell him that he couldn't, that he had to be alone, but he could not even manage that. When his beloved did not respond, Gackt whimpered, 'Damn it, Mana! Don't fucking act like you can't hear me! I know the man I loved, the man that I still love, is in there somewhere! Please, speak to me!'
Mana wished that he could, but didn't do it. His soul had soared as soon as Gackt had said he loved him, but he couldn't bring himself to say it back. He could not force his lips to move, to form those words as his choked throat provided the sound. All he could manage was a single, ever too late tear rolling down each of his cheeks. Gackt saw it, however. How could he not? He had been memorizing Mana's features, every minute change in expression and glint in his eye for years now. The moment that tear came down his cheeks, he knew that his lover was indeed that, someone who loved him. Gackt took a deep breath before pulling out a knife.
People started to protest, but the two men paid them no mind; this was their moment, the biggest turning points of their existence. "Mana…you're taking me." The smaller male almost told him no, but couldn't bring himself to. In all honesty, he didn't want to. If Gackt loved him enough to come, wanted him enough to take this leap of faith, then who was he to deny him? When Mana didn't disagree, Gackt's face split into a grin.
Mana was his life, his world, his reason for being—each of which had ended the moment that he had. He leaned over his beloved's casket, draping the beautiful shroud over both of their heads as he kissed him. "I'm coming with you, whether you want me to or not." Still beaming, he slit up the veins on both of his arms before kissing him again. Because he had placed the shroud over them, no one could see the blood, or the fact that Gackt was dying. They all simply assumed that he was saying his last goodbye, which they were. Just not to each other.
(a/n) Meh. I felt like writing angst. Didn't really work, I felt…it was surprisingly hard to write a deathfic without being glaringly obvious that the protagonist was dead…please tell me whatcha think! :D