“An End, A Beginning”

Author’s Notes: This chapter fic started out in one direction and, as you will see, ended in a completely different one. I wrote it for the New Years Countdown at the LiveJournal community, Gackt JOB Fics.

Transcription by: Dr. Takamura, K.

Patient: H.Y.
Notes for Psychiatric Session #125

Date: 20**/12/17

Patient enters office after extended absence, pale and apparently agitated: playing with the hem of his shirt and biting at his thumb nails, habits that had all but disappeared by our last session several months ago. His eyes dart around the room, eyeing the few shadowed corners and the window especially with an air of distinct anxiety. Patient had called to make today’s appointment after hours the night before, clearly frightened by something but refused to say what over the phone, perhaps due to the presence of F.Y. (or ‘C’ as patient calls him, a long-standing nickname).

As requested by patient some time ago, formality has been dropped.

Session transcript:

Dr.: You seem to be everywhere but here, Y. I had the distinct impression from your message on my answering machine last night that you wanted no where else to be but here.

H.Y.: (shifts several times in his seat, does not make eye contact, bites at right thumbnail)

Dr.: I’m here to help, Y, but you need to talk for me to be of any kind of assistance.

H.Y.: (mutters under his breath) I know, I know. (runs his hands through his hair, which has gotten significantly longer since last session; patient is crying softly now, rubbing frantically at his eyes)

Dr.: It’s alright, Y. Take your time and talk to me.

H.Y.: (laughs bitterly) What happens when we die?

Dr.: I do not know – I feel no one really does.

H.Y.: (laughs darkly again, a throw back to his worst times before; patient still crying)

Dr.: Y, have you thought about hurting yourself again?

H.Y.: No. (answer very resolute, apparently is himself startled by the strength there; repeats again, softer) No. Not since…not since that time.

Dr.: You have been living with F.Y. ever since, correct?

H.Y.: Yeah… (patient’s cheeks color, obviously still embarrassed by the reason behind the change in living arrangements) He’s…he’s taken good care of me. He’s the one who suggested I talk to you again.

Dr.: Oh? How do you feel about that?

H.Y.: (shrugs; tears have stopped and patient seems calmer, but eyes still dart at shadows) He’s right, as usual. I need to be here. I shouldn’t have stopped coming. I shouldn’t have stopped taking the medication.

Dr.: So you are off of your medication.

H.Y.: (colors further, embarrassed) Yes. I… I stopped coming because I thought the worst was done. I felt…safe, with C. If I had bad dreams or…bad thoughts or whatever, he’d be there. He was always there. There were a couple times towards the end of our sessions that he’d drop everything and come home so I wouldn’t be alone.

Dr.: The bond between you two is very strong.

H.Y.: He’s a good friend.

Dr.: Let’s talk about what brought you back into my office. It is a new development?

H.Y.: (fidgeting resumes) Not…really.

Dr.: Oh? How so?

H.Y.: (quietly, as if telling a secret) I’m seeing him again.

Dr.: You mean G.

H.Y.: Yes.

Dr.: When and where did you see him?

H.Y.: (tears return in force) At…at the bus stop outside of the apartment. Then I…I didn’t see him, but I smelled him in our apartment. Then…yesterday evening I…I talked to him.

Dr.: Talked to him?

H.Y.: Just like…just like before…when he… (patient is unable to continue, wracked by tears, clearly terrified; outburst lasts several minutes)

Dr.: The hallucinations could be a side effect of you neglecting to take your medications, and without the added support of regular sessions, it’s possible your anxiety is using your own imagination against you.

H.Y.: (patient tries to stabilize himself, breathing deeply but the edge in his voice rises the more he speaks) You think they’re just hallucinations? You think that’s all it is? You think if I just start coming back here and popping your pills again it’ll all go away?

Dr.: It’s quite possible, Y.

H.Y.: (whispers) But what if it doesn’t—?

Dr.: What if it doesn’t go away? Then we will look into other options and possibilities. For the time being, resume your medication, continue with our meetings, and try to keep a level head.

Session ends with patient agreeing to meet again later in the week for a second session. New prescription written with a slightly higher dosage than before.

*****

You huffed in irritation, brushing his hair out of his eyes and behind his ear only to have the breeze pull it free again moments later. He’d gotten lazy with regards to keeping it short. There’d really been no point, he figured. Excluding the first few agonizing months, when he was at his worst, he’d stayed out of the spotlight and the paparazzi’s cross-hairs—

“You’re late.”

He looked up at the voice which broke him from his train of thought and found himself standing beside another park bench. Gackt sat, once again clothed in a black trench, his gaze settled on another group of children several yards away. You was sorely tempted to walk by. It’s not real. It’s all just in my head.

But what if…?

Taking a shuddering breath, he pulled his jacket tighter around his body and sat down beside the other…man? Ghost? Death? He wasn’t sure anymore.

Hell, he wasn’t sure about a lot of things anymore.

“I’m sorry, I had a…meeting that kept me.” Shifting, he purposefully kept some distance between the two.

Gackt’s eyes darted to the vacant space between them but said nothing. You fidgeted a bit more, but couldn’t find a comfortable position. “You have questions,” Gackt said, his voice even, his gaze far away.

“Uh…well, yeah.”

Gackt smirked at the tone. “You can ask whatever you want. I’ll answer if I can.”

Where to start? “You suggested yesterday, during your ‘recon,’ that there’s a death for everyone,” You began, “but what about the ones like…like—”

“The ones like me?” Gackt asked, his smile gentle. You nodded as he couldn’t seem to find his voice. Gackt turned his eyes back to the children playing in the clearing across the pathway from them. His smile stayed firmly in place. “Despite the system’s accuracy, we don’t have things down to the exact minute and seconds; we just can’t. It doesn’t work that way. The ones who wander around are the ones who missed their death.”

“So why can’t you go get them before they get stuck or whatever?”

“Well that’s another issue,” Gackt sighed and grinned in spite of himself. “What would you think if I’d walked up to you, held out my hand and said, ‘Hi! I’m your personal god of death here to guide you to the afterlife! Ready to go? Train’s leaving!’” He schooled his features again and turned to look at You. “I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have taken too kindly to that. And often enough, you won’t see your death coming, they’ll just be there, but you won’t know it. But regardless,” he continued, turning away again, “you will die. Everyone does, and that you don’t really have any say in the matter. With perhaps the exception of suicides – those are handled by a different bureau – we know when and where and how—”

“It’s all rather depressing,” You mused, turning his eyes down to the tightly clenched hands in his lap, “knowing your fate’s been decided…”

“Fate?” Gackt asked. “No. Your death however, yes that’s decided. The moment you enter the world, you take a number from the cue and when that number’s up, your time’s up, too. What you do in between those two moments is strictly within your power.” Turning to You again he continued, his voice a deep murmur, “It’s not the amount of time you have, You, it’s what you do with the time you have. That’s all that ever matters.”

He stood and dusted at the front of his jacket again and You felt something very similar to panic rising from his stomach into his throat. Slipping his hands into the trench coat’s front pockets, Gackt kept his eyes glued to the ground just in front of his feet. “I’m done for the time being.” He sounded tired, You noticed. “I’d like…that is—I’d like to see you home,” he said softly, peering up at the other man through his dark bangs. “I just want to know how things are going.” He bit his lower lip and looked away, struggling to finish his question. “Would you mind if I came—”

Home.

The word went unvoiced between them, but You didn’t need to hear him say it. The tension between them, the hesitation in Gackt’s eyes, the ache in his chest told him all he needed to know. “I would love it if you come home with me.”