“I think I’m going to go
outside,” Gackt said, more to himself than anyone else in the room. His arms stretched up and crossed themselves
on top of his head while he looked out the window at the dark skies.
You looked up from his book
and asked, “Er…why?”
“Because
it’s supposed to rain.”
“Okay…” the guitarist trailed
off, obviously waiting for more of an explanation but not really expecting to
get one.
“Just don’t get pneumonia,
alright?” Cha chastised from his place in the kitchen, cleaning up. He shook the wooden spoon he was drying in
his general direction. “You’re not
allowed to get sick.”
Gackt dropped his arms
unceremoniously, reaching back to scratch and itch at the base of his skull as
he passed by the kitchen. “I’ll pop some
Vitamin C drops before I head out.” He
grinned, “How’s that