Disclaimer: {Whimpers} I…I don’t own Malice Mizer. {cries}
Mana: Don’t cry Puff.
Gackt: If I let you glomp me, will you stop crying?
Puff: Yes!!! {glomps Gackt}
Mana: o_O
Gackt: {coughing}
Pre-story note: I have never seen any video clips of Malice Mizer, listened to very many songs, or even heard their voices just talking. All I know about their personalities is what I can glean from websites and pictures. So, don’t be too rough. Oh, yes, shounen-ai may/will be present. {giggles shyly}
Chapter One
“Gackt, are you okay?” Mana asked worriedly, quickly doing up all the locks on the door and drawing all the blinds closed. The man in question was sitting on the floor, panting lightly and brushing dust off of his jacket. His brownish-red hair was completely mussed, his clothes had tiny rips all over, and his face had been scratched.
“I wish those fan girls would be a bit more gentle when they decide to attack us,” Gackt said suddenly, smiling at his companion. Mana himself hadn’t escaped unscathed. His long black-blue curls had been pulled and were now very fluffy because of it, his frilly dress was missing pieces of lace, and his headpiece was gone all together.
“I know how you feel,” Mana said, running his slender fingers over his hair, “I can still hear those girls out there; should we call for help?” He glanced around for his handbag, realizing quickly that there was a girl outside who was treasuring her newly acquired memento. Gackt found his cell phone safely tucked in his pants pocket, and dialed a number.
“Yeah, we got attacked again. Mana and I. Yes, I understand we really shouldn’t have been in public. Together. I know it attracts the fans. Can you just get a car over here to pick us up? Good,” Gackt said as he spoke to the person on the other end of the phone line, annoyed as he clicked the phone shut. Mana sighed and sat down by the vocalist, leaning wearily against Gackt’s shoulder. Gackt placed an arm around Mana, soothing the delicate guitarist.
They sat still, listening carefully as the fan girls dispersed; some happily admiring their trinkets, others shuffling off in heartbreak over the fact they hadn’t managed to snatch something from the pair. After what seemed to be an eternity, a light knocking on the door and the revving of an engine signaled that they were going to be whisked away to safety.
Mana and Gackt walked quickly to the black car parked in the alleyway, carrying themselves with as much dignity as they could muster after the recent attack. The car doors were shut; the tinted windows blocked prying eyes.
“I’m very happy that we managed to make it to the safe spot,” Mana said flatly, glancing around for a hand mirror, “We’re lucky that the people who own that building always leave that back room unlocked for us. In case something like this should happen.” He spotted the mirror and grasped it, dabbing away the worst of his smeared make-up with a silken handkerchief he had left the last time he was in the car. Mana offered the mirror to Gackt, who was quite sure he didn’t want to see himself at the moment.
“We’re where we need to be,” the driver said, parking the car on the street and unlocking the rear doors for his disheveled passengers. Mana grimaced at the thought he would be in public with the way he looked, but followed Gackt out on to the sidewalk and into the nondescript building. Almost immediately the executives swooped down upon them, ushering them out of the lobby and into a boardroom.
They were all but shoved into the plush chairs as all the others settled down into their seats. Mana covertly tried to smooth his hair into some semblance of order, but all eyes were fixed on the two musicians.
“Gackt, Mana, we of the board have decided that these attacks have gone too far,” The man at the head of the table began, “And we’ve decided upon a solution.” Mana’s breath caught in his throat, nearly causing him to choke. Gackt stared blankly at the board members, curious to what they had dreamed up.
“You’re going to perfect your English by the end of the month and move to the United States for a well-deserved break from the hustle and bustle of celebrity life,” they all chimed together, grinning brightly. Gackt and Mana’s faces were covered in scrawls of disbelief, confusion, and general shock. Slowly, Mana began to giggle softly, which grew into a loud laugh. His band member quickly joined him in the laughter, believing it all to be an odd joke cooked up on the spot.
“You have to be kidding,” Gackt choked out between laughing fits; Mana was turning a vivid crimson with hints of blue.
“No, we’re serious,” the first man said in a slightly cool tone, “You will both perfect your English by the end of the month and then we will send you to the U.S.” Mana’s giggles stopped abruptly; the room fell silent without his noise. Everybody was watching everyone else; Gackt and Mana remained the general center of attention, though.
“You’ll stay here in this building until we send you off. We can’t have the fan girls getting to you anymore,” the head man explained, seemingly oblivious to the pair’s incredulous stares, “Rooms have been prepared and we’ll retrieve all of your important belongings from your homes. I suggest that you head up to your rooms, get cleaned up, and rest. Tomorrow we’ll explain the rest that needs to be explained.”
As if one cue, and before either of the pair had a chance to respond to the rather ridiculous idea, a small woman swept into the room and practically dragged them out. She had caught a sleeve off of each and was pulling them along hurriedly, shoving them into the elevator. Up several floors, the doors reopened, and Gackt and Mana were shown to their semi-permanent rooms.
“There’s an adjoining door, you each have your own bathroom, a few pieces of clothes are in the armoires, and there’s a call button by the bathroom doors,” the woman explained briefly, hurrying back out of sight. Gackt and Mana were left staring at one another confusedly, then staring at the closed elevator doors.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Mana said offhandedly, still slightly dazed by the recent turn of events during the day. He wandered absentmindedly into his new bedroom, his hands running over his black-blue hair. Gackt followed suit, albeit he was a bit more focused in his tasks.
Neither of the men were satisfied with the clothing options available to them. They were going to be dressed as twins until their own clothes were delivered. Black slacks, plain white button down shirts, and nondescript black pajamas were all that was offered to them. Needless to say, Mana was more upset about the wardrobe that Gackt was.
“Mana, it will be a nice change to see you in pants,” Gackt soothed, biting his tongue to keep from laughing at the guitarist. Poor Mana was dressed, begrudgingly, in his pajamas which weren’t the least bit flattering. His hair was limp and barely wavy, his bangs hung over his blue eyes, and his pale face didn’t even have a smidgeon of make-up. But he still looked like a very pretty girl.
“I don’t like pants,” Mana whimpered, “At least you look good in pants.” Gackt patted Mana on his back, gently massaging his slender neck.
“You’re still pretty, even without all of your make-up and dresses,” Gackt consoled, smiling brightly. Mana looked up, his eyes wide and innocent.
“Really?” Mana questioned, pushing a still damp lock of long hair off of his delicate face. The vocalist nodded, his un-gelled hair swinging with his movements. Mana smiled slightly, blue eyes livid with glee.
“We should get some sleep,” Gackt stated randomly, “We don’t have a clue what’s in store for us tomorrow.”
“Good night, Gackt, sleep well,” Mana said lightly, pulling back the comforter on his bed. He fluffed his pillow, rearranging the down filling.
“Sweet dreams, Mana,” Gackt responded tiredly, wandering through the door to his own room. He crawled under the blankets, falling asleep almost instantly.