Maps: 17/??

[solongsun]

Title: Maps

Author: solongsun  

Rating: mature

Bands: The GazettE, Dir en grey

Pairings: Kyo/Ruki, Aoi/Die, Aoi/Uruha

April 8, 1970: the day of the Ten-Roku gas explosion, and the day that 22-year-old Ruki attempts to end his life. Less than two weeks later, he finds himself committed to the Yamauchi Hostel, a psychiatric hospital in the Kyoto hills. Kept on a ward with a number of other ill young men, Ruki is sometimes frightened and sometimes enthralled by his new friends – and none more other than the 'untreatable' Kyo, whose hospitalisation hides a legacy of dark secrets...

It was a stultifying day in late August, and the air in Sato's office tasted stale over Ruki's tongue. Drops of sweat were inching their way down his spine like insects, and his hair stuck to his neck in wet spikes; he kept pushing it back irritably.

Because there were more people, the office felt smaller and more stifling than it normally did, and Ruki's view of the window was partially blocked. His mother and father were sitting side-by-side in matching armchairs, both looking equally ill-at-ease, whilst Ruki sat on an ordinary wooden chair dragged in from the dining room.

He knew that from the outside they would look like a bizarre group of people: Sato with his starched white shirt and neatly clipped moustache; Ruki's father with his thinning hair and glasses; Ruki's mother with her waist thickening and her lipstick worn away to a reddish outline. Then, of course, there was Ruki himself; skinny and pale and sweating in his chair, clutching the seat with both hands to keep himself from reaching for a cigarette.

Sato had thought it might be beneficial for Ruki's parents to participate in a session. He had been so far off the mark that Ruki hadn't been able to identify any way to tell him.

His mother's hand kept curling and twitching on the arm of her chair, as if she wanted to reach out and touch him; she shot him frequent looks, her eyes magnified by tears.

'Thank you for coming,' Sato was saying, his hands clasped loosely on the desk in front of him, 'I know it's not easy for you to get here.'

'It's good to be here,' Ruki's father responded politely, whilst his mother made a kind of soft whimpering noise.

'I've asked you to join us because I wanted to speak about the three of you as a family unit. In talking to Ruki these past few months, I've identified – and correct me if you feel I'm wrong, Ruki – a strong sense of alienation. Please understand, I'm not here to apportion any blame, and I'm sure the three of you are a very close, loving family.'

It wasn't any good: Ruki gave up and lit a cigarette.

 

The one benefit of the session was that he didn't have to talk very much; Sato encouraged him to weigh in but directed his questions more towards Ruki's parents, who answered everything in a careful, thoughtful tone of voice that made him want to chew on glass. In the still, sticky heat, each word from their mouths seemed to fall into his head like a rock, clicking together and piling up until his skull felt heavy and stuffed full.

They talked about Ruki's childhood and his school days and the friends he'd had. A few raindrops spattered against the window, but no shower began; the sky darkened but remained flat as ever, and Ruki's mother began to fan herself weakly.

'Of course,' she was saying, 'He was always very shy at school. Never had a lot of friends – never a wide group – but he had one or two friends, didn't you, Ruki?'

He tipped his head back and blew a long plume of blue smoke towards the ceiling.

'Your mother asked you a question,' his father said in a tight voice, and Ruki sighed.

'There were a few problems with bullying at his school,' his mother continued doggedly, 'but that's just...Ruki's always been a very sensitive boy. Artistic. Maybe we should have sent him to a specialist school, where he'd have been with more like-minded people, but financially...'

'I understand,' Sato said gently. 'Did you ever meet any of Ruki's friends?'

'Meet? Oh, well – no.'

'Never had them round to the house?'

'No...no, we weren't really much for entertaining. Of course, if he'd have wanted them to visit—'

'I didn't have any friends,' Ruki interrupted tonelessly, and his mother gaped at him.

'Ruki! That's – not true.'

'Yes it is.'

'But you used to go out with them!'

'I was alone,' Ruki said in the same voice.

'But – but why would you say—?'

'I didn't want you to worry.'

'Did you think about that when you tried to kill yourself? Us worrying?' his father said, still in that strange, restricted voice, and Ruki glanced over at him, uncertain how to feel.

'Yes,' he said honestly, his voice softer. 'I thought about it a lot. It almost stopped me.'

'Almost.'

'Do you feel you've lied to your parents a lot?' Sato asked, leaning forward in his seat, and Ruki could feel his skin prickling as three sets of eyes anchored themselves to him.

'Not a lot,' he said quietly. 'Only when I thought they'd worry about the truth.'

'Oh, Ruki,' his mother scolded softly, 'Parents are supposed to worry about their children.'

'Did you feel that your parents worried too much?'

'Not exactly.' Ruki shifted uncomfortably in his seat, lighting a second cigarette from the smouldering tip of his first. 'I just...'

'We never had a lot of time for you, did we?' his mother said, catching a tear with her handkerchief as it trickled down her cheek.

'Huh? No – you – you had time for me.'

'We didn't,' she said, her voice thick like she had a cold, 'Because it was all about Hiroshi.'

It was as if she had dropped a big stone into a still pond; the ripples from her words went around the room and stunned Ruki and his father into stillness.

 

Ruki stared fixedly out of the window, trying to focus on what he could see of the hills past his father's head; he wondered if Aoi and Uruha were out today. He wondered if Kai was playing football on the lawn, his radio lying a safe distance away on the grass and playing some crackly rock music it was picking up from the pirate station he kept it constantly tuned into. If Uruha and Aoi were out then Die would surely be in the music room, idling away the time with a guitar on his lap, playing along vigorously to some record or another, committing the notes to the muscle memory of his fingers until they were perfect; or maybe Shinya would be in there at the piano. Kyo – could be sitting under the window, his head tipped back to allow the drops of sweat to roll down his throat, or he could be holed up in his sarcophagus of a room, or he could be lying flat on his back in the TV room, ignoring the television as it blathered away about something he didn't care about. Maybe he was reading, or else just thinking; maybe all the time he had his eyes closed he was actually asleep.

There was a pressurised sort of feeling in Ruki's ears, as if he'd sunk very deep very quickly underground. He swallowed tentatively and they popped. Sato cleared his throat.

'Hiroshi?' he asked delicately, and Ruki saw his father place a hand around his mother's fingers.

'Hiroshi was our other son,' she answered in a trembling voice. 'But he died.'

Her face took on an oddly flat, shrunken look, and she pressed her lips together. Ruki's father squeezed her hand tighter.

'He was ill,' he said. 'From very early childhood he was ill. It was a progressive disease. He hung on much longer than the doctors said he could. They expected he would be dead before he was twelve, but he lived until he was twenty-two.'

Ruki examined that: the melancholy note of pride in his father's voice. This son, at least, had tried to hold onto life. Wasn't a quitter.

'What was your relationship with your brother, Ruki?' Sato was asking.

'They were very close,' his mother said in a small voice. 'Ruki used to lie on the floor in Hiroshi's room for hours, drawing. Even after he passed, that's where he'd draw.' Her voice wavered and she hesitated, gathering herself together. 'Hiroshi couldn't draw...it was his muscles. He wouldn't have been able to hold a pencil. I always wondered if he felt – felt jealous, ever.' She sniffed, pressing her handkerchief to her lips briefly, 'So I gave Hiroshi more of my love. I had to.'

'Mum,' Ruki said uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on his cigarette tip, but she shook her head tearfully.

'I had to,' she repeated. 'But I didn't want to. It was – with Hiroshi the way he was, he needed constant care. He couldn't do anything for himself. I just didn't have time to spend with two children, and Ruki was always so independent, from very early on. It was like he knew that he couldn't ever come first.'

'We hadn't planned on any other children,' Ruki's father added tentatively, casting a worried look at his surviving son. 'Obviously neither of us regrets having either of our children. We love them both. But Ruki wasn't planned; he was...when Hiroshi was nine years old, he was born. Those were busy, stressful years.' He paused, looking down at his hands. 'I don't think I even felt like I knew where I was, half the time.'

He paused again. 'But I don't see what any of that has to do with this.'

Sato rubbed at his upper lip, perhaps feeling to see if his moustache was as neat as he hoped.

'Everything is important,' he said vaguely. 'But I think the fact that you, Ruki, haven't mentioned your brother to me before today...'

'We don't talk about him,' his mother broke in, her hand stretched out slightly as if she could protect Ruki from the insinuation.

He lowered his eyes to the defenceless white skin of his wrists and the stupid blue pulse that jumped there.

 

After his parents had gone home, Ruki found himself with nowhere to go.

He didn't want to go into his bedroom. The door was left slightly ajar, which meant Kai wasn't in there, and somehow Ruki couldn't stand the thought of being shut up between the four walls by himself. From the music room he could hear both the sound of the piano and, softer underneath it, somebody playing a guitar; he looked in briefly to see Shinya and Die together, harmonising gently on some piece of music Ruki didn't know. Ordinarily the view would have surprised him, but he didn't seem to have it in him. His mind felt sort of flat and too quiet, just as full of stone as it had been earlier; there was no way for his real thoughts to squeak through.

Where did he want to be?

Alone. Not alone.

Lying on the floor of Eiji's studio, his typewriter in front of him, working on an essay.

Lying on the floor of his brother's bedroom, the tatami littered with pencils, drawing a picture.

Alone, not alone.

He wanted to be outside, even though the heavy sky looked like rain. Alone – not alone. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't want to talk, either. He wanted silence, and the presence of another person; just somebody to look at him, to stop him from disappearing.

'Where's Kyo,' he said aloud to nobody in particular.

'Behind you,' was the slightly hoarse response. He turned, and there was the other man, standing as if Ruki had simply willed him into being; in his hand he held a paperback that Ruki recognised. 'I wanted to give this back to you.'

'Were you standing there watching me?'

'No. You've been standing still for ten minutes. I didn't know how to pass you without it being uncomfortable.'

'Because this is so comfortable?' Ruki snapped, and pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead desperately. 'Leave the book. I want to go outside.'

Kyo's eyes darted towards the window.

'Sign us out before it starts raining,' he said in a low voice. 'I'll meet you by the door.'

 

Ruki did as he was told, hurrying to put their names down on the blackboard and get his shoes on. The nurse seemed to be dragging her feet as she rounded the desk of the nurse's station to unlock the door for him; it seemed impossible that anybody could go so slowly.

'Be back in an hour, please,' she told him.

'But I'm allowed two,' he argued, and she gestured towards the clock, which read twenty past four.

'You can't miss dinner,' she said, using an ultra-reasonable tone of voice that couldn't be argued with, 'I want both of you back by the time everybody is sitting down to eat. Yes?'

'Yes,' Ruki mumbled, slipping through the gap in the door as soon as she opened it and tripping his way down the staircase. He remembered how echoey that stairwell had felt when he'd first arrived; how he'd been so scared to get to the ward that he'd wished the steps could have lasted forever. His legs had felt like iron then but they flew now, so light he felt he was falling with every step, and soon he was through reception and out in the strange afternoon light, almost purplish through the grey clouds. The hills were vague shadows through the haze, and he squinted even though it wasn't bright.

There was nobody else. It felt like a landscape from a dream. He could hear a bird calling out into the stillness, but the haze reflected the sound strangely; he couldn't begin to guess where it had come from.

He became aware that Kyo was beside him, and without saying anything the two of them began to walk. The other man carried a clear plastic umbrella by its wooden handle, and his t-shirt was sticking to him slightly in the heat. Everything looked unreal, tinted mauve, the air slowly revolving in front of them. Ruki led them on a hard path, hardly realising where his feet were taking him; it was a steep climb, and close to the top, he felt a fat drop of rain hit his cheek, and then another on the top of his head. The sky gave a low rumble, and with a jolt Ruki understood where he'd taken them to: this was Aoi and Uruha's spot. There was a rushing sound in the distance and a rushing inside his own head; rain in the trees, blood in his ears. He sat down heavily on the grass.

 

'You'll get wet,' Kyo said, his first words since they had left the ward, and sighed when Ruki shook his head listlessly. Kyo was right, of course; the haze was rain now. He could smell it all around him, and his hair was becoming flattened by it, and drops of it were rolling down his forehead and cheeks to mingle with the sweat. He could feel it pattering against his skin, until he couldn't. Looking up, he saw Kyo with a strange, grave expression on his face, holding his umbrella out at arm's length so that it covered Ruki over. Through it, the clouds above were distorted and streaked. The rain was heavy, Ruki realised; in the few short moments that Kyo had been uncovered, he had already become halfway drenched. His hair was sticking to his face, and he pushed it back from his forehead with the heel of his hand.

'I owe you an apology,' Kyo said, as if it was an explanation.

'You're going to get soaked,' Ruki replied, and Kyo gave him a look that said quite clearly yes, obviously.

'I'm sorry,' Kyo continued, and Ruki blinked up at him.

'What for?' he asked.

'Whatever I did that made you start avoiding me.'

'I wasn't—'

'Yes, you were,' Kyo said, his voice very neutral, and Ruki sighed.

'It wasn't anything you did,' he said slowly. 'I just...'

He realised he didn't have an explanation, and gave up. Rain was running down Kyo's face in rivers, following the contours of his cheeks, and his white institutional t-shirt was soaked clear; Ruki turned his face away from it.

'So you were doing your thing again.'

'What thing?'

'Running away,' Kyo said simply, his voice not unkind.

'I don't run away,' Ruki denied hotly.

'No, that's right. This is exactly where you planned to end up.'

Ruki sighed, drawing his knees up close to his chest, and gracefully Kyo squatted down next to him. For a moment both sets of eyes searched the hills around them, barely visible through the downpour.

'I'm not criticising you,' Kyo said quietly. 'I just thought if I pointed it out, you might stick around for once.'

'Pretty stupid thought,' Ruki said sourly, and glanced upwards again at the protective canopy of Kyo's umbrella. The rain made a pecking sound on its surface, and water ran from it in continuous streams. 'Sato had me sit down with my parents,' he said finally.

'Did you tell them about Okada?'

Ruki shook his head. 'I don't want to. My parents are all set to go to his exhibition. They were talking about my brother.'

'You have a brother.'

'Had a brother.'

'I'm sorry,' Kyo said, and Ruki shot him a sideways look.

'You have any siblings?'

'Had.' He met Ruki's eye. 'My sister. She was ten.'

'Hiroshi was twenty-two,' Ruki murmured, 'The age I am now.' He looked down at his knees. 'Next year I'll turn twenty-three, and it doesn't feel fair. I don't want to get ahead of him.'

 

His voice broke on the last word and he ducked his head abruptly, hiding his face. The drip and crackle from the umbrella was soothing, and he closed his eyes, listening to it. 'How did you get over it?' he asked.

'I didn't. I snapped.'

'That was when you had your episode?'

'Yes.'

Ruki opened his eyes. 'I can understand that. When Hiroshi died, nothing felt real.' He shook his head. 'My mum was saying all this stuff about how she thought she didn't give me enough attention compared to him, because he was so sick. Like I was jealous, or something. But I loved him the most. To me he wasn't ill; he was just my big brother. I loved him so much.' He paused. 'But when he died, I was...I felt angry at him, almost. Because he left me.'

Kyo didn't say anything, and Ruki sighed. 'I know he didn't have much of a choice,' he mumbled.

Kyo remained quiet, and Ruki made an irritated noise. 'Say something, will you?' he said edgily. 'You don't have to wait until you have something cool to say. I already know you're a total loser.'

He heard a snort from next to him, and to his surprise, he felt his own lips twitching up at the corners.

'What gave me away?'

'Dunno. Call it a hunch.' Ruki sighed softly, leaning back on his hands. 'Sit down properly,' he said, and to his surprise, Kyo did it. Carefully, he took hold of the other man's elbow and pulled him closer. Kyo gave him a look, and Ruki gestured towards the umbrella.

'If you sit close to me, we can both stay dry.'

'I'm already soaked. It doesn't matter.'

Ruki closed his eyes briefly.

'I want to sit close to you.'

'Why?'

'I don't know.'

Kyo seemed to consider this a moment, and then shifted so that his shoulder was just bumping Ruki's. The contact seemed to make him uncomfortable; Ruki felt the muscles in his arm tense. He was still holding the umbrella awkwardly aloft; languidly, Ruki batted it out of his hand, and they both watched it tumble a few metres away down the hill.

'Put your arm around me,' he said.

'Ruki—'

'What?' Ruki interrupted with a snap, and Kyo fell silent. Stiffly, he put his arm behind Ruki's back, his hand resting cautiously down by the younger man's hip, not touching.

'You're going to get sick,' Kyo said. His voice was just a little hoarser than normal, and Ruki could hear a strange tone to the breath beneath it; high, fast. He was nervous.

It made Ruki feel bold, and he rested his head gently on the other man's shoulder, feeling the muscles contract tensely as his skin and hair brushed against them. He could feel two layers of him, one through the other; cold wet t-shirt, warm wet skin. He could smell him; that familiar Kyo smell, soap and skin, mixed with rain. Wet cotton.

'We should go back,' Kyo said in that same strange voice, 'We'll be late.'

But he didn't move; neither of them did. 

Comments

[thehamhamheaven]

An older brother who died. (Hiroshi is D'erlanger's Kyo? Interesting that you have both Kyos in the story as men Ruki loves dearly.) When Ruki told Kyo "I don't want to get ahead of him", it all made so much sense. Not that I think he should have succeeded in taking his own life, but I see how he was thinking and feeling that day: already lost his brother, now lost E.O.

I love the little snippet of Die and Shinya playing music together. Music is such a universal language, and it's sweet that even with his serious mental problems, Shinya is able to forge a connection through music.

Alone but not alone - how many times in my life have I felt that way. Wanting someone near, not necessarily to do anything with or talk to, but just to... be near. I'm impressed that Ruki worked up the courage to tell Kyo exactly what he wanted. (Not at all surprised that Kyo did exactly what Ruki told him to!)

And now let's talk about Kyo. Assuming that Ruki's avoiding him was his fault. For all he claimed he was different from Ruki because he turned his anger and hatred outward, he's certainly doing the opposite now. That his break came after the loss of a younger sibling makes things even more heart-breaking, because if (as I suspect) his parents are dead too, that means he has no one left.

[solongsun]

Hi!

Wow, I had no idea at all that there was another Kyo around! I'll confess to you - I'm almost completely ignorant about Japanese bands and artists. I literally know Dir en grey, X Japan, The Gazette, and Miyavi. That's IT. I tend to read almost no fanfiction because it's never about people I know!

So unfortunately not my mastery, just a coincidence! :) I picked the name Hiroshi more or less out of nowhere. It sounded reasonably good next to Ruki, for me.

Thanks a lot for reading and leaving such a detailed comment! You're the best.

[thehamhamheaven]

Oh that's funny! You definitely picked a good name. D'erlanger is one of those older bands that is often cited as inspiring VK artists to become musicians. In fact, Cipher (the guitarist) is the reason Die has that snake scale pattern tattooed on his hand. D'erlanger dropped out of the scene after about 1990 but got back together in at the end of the 2000s. Hiroshi Kyo recently did guest vocals on a song with DeG Kyo's side project Sukekiyo (Elisabeth Addict, which I highly recommend).

[reilaflowers]

That doctor always seems to do the opposite of what Ruki needs. No wonder nobody gets better!

[solongsun]

Oh, crazy!

There's so much stuff I missed or don't know about the fandom. I remember back in LJ days, my interest was starting to wane about the days of Sukekiyo being announced...getting back into it now, it was so weird discovering that they literally all have other shit going on. apart from lazy Kaoru.

I've got SO much catching up to do.

[thehamhamheaven]

Kaoru did publish a book. But during the last tour he was having issues with numbness in his right hand to the point where they were taping his pick to his fingers. So I think it's probably a good thing that he's not trying to do anything else on the side, poor baby.

[solongsun]

Yeah, I remember finding out about his hand! That's crazy, although I guess years of continuous guitar playing probably isn't fantastic for your body. I actually wonder if they're in a bit of a mini hiatus as a band so he can go ahead and recover a bit.