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"See that one over there?" Aramis asks, pointing. |
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*You follow the invisible line his finger maps out and your eyes fall upon the back and shoulders of a young man in the tavern, hunched over a poorly-maintained piano. His blonde hair is strangely toussled yet styled, as if there is a meaning, a purposefulness in the mess. From what you can tell, the young man is an experienced pianist, managing to extract a stunning melody from the hopelessly out-of-tune piano, his masterful hands dancing over the ebony and ivory with painstaking precision. Aramis, his eyes strikingly clear and fixed on the young man, lets a rare smile creep onto his face. "I've had my eye on him all day," he admits, leaning forward in his chair and tapping his finger on the rim of his shot glass. "He calls himself Gackt. Talented, isn't he? I met him here yesterday but didn't have the time to get to know him better. I wonder if he still remembers me from last night...?" Aramis lifts his glass and takes his shot quickly, squaring his shoulders and settling his weight into the chair somewhat uncomfortably. "I was thinking about going over there and reintroducing myself to him. I'm not sure yet, but I think I'd like to hang around him a lot more... get to know him. Find out what makes him tick."
*You look back at the young man, this "Gackt" person, and make a mental note to ask Aramis about Wreck later, since he seems quite taken with this new young blonde. "Now, what was I talking about last time?" Aramis asks loudly, interrupting your thought process. "I can't remember at all... Seraphim? Or was it Kissie? It was Kissie, wasn't it?"
*Aramis pushes his shot glass aside and pulls out a cigarette slowly, deliberately in time with the gentle tinkling of the ivories in the background. "Yeah, let's wrap this whole thing up about Kissie so we can move on. As I said before, I stayed at her place for a while. I was pretty much gone all day and went there only to sleep at night, and, for a while at least, her husband tolerated it. He didn't like it, but he tolerated it. I'd been staying there for three months before he finally demanded that I leave outright, and I can't say I blame him. After all, he could have been renting that room out to someone rather than have some freeloading former crush of his wife's occupying it. After I'd gone, I began living at an inn called the Frogg's Throaat, a mile or two from Kissie's house. Though I tried not to, I fell back into kidnapping and murder-for-hire to support myself. But old habits die hard... and so did a lot of people I was hired to take out. It's how I got this scar here--" Aramis pulls up the left side of his shirt to reveal a thick pink scar near his kidney. "And this one here," Aramis says again, lifting up the right side of his shirt and showing off a scar in a similar place. "I almost died those couple of times; the cuts were deep, but just not deep enough. I should have learned after I got this one--" he delicately fingers the massive scar on his face. "--But I was young then. I was scared. I'm not scared anymore. Anyway, back to the Frogg's Throaat. I was living there after Kissie's husband kicked me out and spent lot of my time trying to dilute my most painful memories in alcohol, trying to wash away all of my fears and apprehensions in some vain attempt to regain the confidence I had when I was in Seraphim. I wanted to erase everything I had become and return to that state of unfettered glory I felt when the crowds cheered for me and celebrated in my name. I wanted to abandon the drunkard, the drug addict, the chain smoker whose body I'd become hopelessly trapped in to wrap myself up in the carefree mercenary I'd left behind in Meenah. I missed the old me, and hated what I'd fallen into. That's when I met... him. I promised him that I wouldn't mention his name when I referred to him, ever. Out of respect for him and his new lover... In any case, I met him when I was at my absolute lowest, rotting in a stinking grave of abbhorent misery I'd dug for myself. Somehow, he was able to take down the wall I'd put up, brick by brick. Somehow, his voice was able to reach me through the lid of my imaginary coffin, urging me to live again. He taught me that what's in the past is in the past, and although it will always be a part of me, I can't let it define who I will be in the future, or who I am now. I didn't want to, but I fell in love with him. He had the most beautiful soul I'd ever, ever known. He... he saved me. And he knows it. He knows I'm forever grateful to him, wherever he may be right now."
"We were in a relationship for a short while, he and I. Things were going along well, from my perspective, anyway. Then, all of a sudden, one day... he tells me we can no longer be together. He wanted time away from me, he wanted space. Well, he took his space. And not long afterwards, he invited someone else into it. I'm not angry with him for that, not at all. What angered me was that he continued to seek out my company, continued to flirt and call on me, to toy with my emotions and my mind, in essence... making me believe that there was still some hope, some chance that we could be together again. But that just wasn't the case. In fact, he told his new lover and a friend of his that I was, in fact, stalking him, threatening him, and all the while apologizing to me and asking when we could talk again when their backs were turned. And I was the fool. I fell for it, every time. He even told me once that maybe, maybe he wanted me there, just as someone to play with while the master was away. And I fell all over myself wanting to please him, hurting myself for his entertainment. But just as quickly as our new fling started, it was ended. He said to me... that we couldn't even be friends anymore. It didn't matter, the time we'd spent together, or the secrets we shared or the love I thought we felt for each other. It didn't matter anymore, now that he'd found someone else to occupy his time. I still love him, and I still wonder what he's up to, where he is, how he's doing, if he's happy... Not that it matters. It's all over now, and I can't even say hello to him without this incredible fear of being scolded."
*Aramis takes a long, slow drag from his cigarette and pauses thoughtfully before continuing.*
"But, as he taught me, that's all in my past. And I can't let my past define who I am. In any case, I'm far more involved in other things, other people that would better appreciate my time and attention. And now that Reckless and I aren't exactly on speaking terms right now, I think I'll try my luck with that handsome young thing at the piano. Hey--go home, come back in a couple of days... Right now, I feel like a little harmless conversation..."
*You watch with increasing interest as Aramis puts his cigarette out on the table, a shameless grin plastered over his usually melancholy face. He stands up and, with a swing of the hips, makes his way to the pianist with a slight swagger in his step. He leans over the pianist, Gackt's, shoulder, no doubt whispering some affectionate yet empty words of flattery. This should be interestsing, you think to youreslf with a smile. You decide to come back tomorrow against Aramis' requests to see what has transpired between Aramis and this "Gackt" person... if you're lucky, you just might be able to witness it firsthand.*
 Bleeding Apocalypse · Fri Jan 14, 2005 @ 04:20pm · 1 Comments |
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