Gackt is the one Mana chooses to speak for him, and Gackt is the one Mana chooses to feel for him. No amount of lyrics or notes could accurately convey his sentiments, and so he thinks that perhaps Gackt can interpret this, too.

“I don’t own your emotions,” Gackt tells Mana, and it is hard to say when they’re pressed so closely against one another, Mana against a wall, hands pinned at both sides of his head. Gackt’s fingers are holding Mana’s wrists, and his eyes are wrought with melancholy and are keeping Mana’s eyes so well. Mana cannot look away.

He doesn’t speak, but instead shifts so that there is something between them, some movement. It’s a light action, but Gackt catches it; he has tuned himself to Mana, knows that every act, no matter how subtle, has a much greater meaning behind it. “I will speak for you, but feeling is up to you. How can I tell you what it is you feel? How does that work?”

Mana says nothing, but he stares at Gackt, not looking him in the eye but focusing on every other detail. Gackt presses his lips against Mana’s neck and takes in a deep breath, inhaling the familiar perfume, thinking that perhaps this too has a more significant meaning than presumed. Mana tilts his head back, and it thuds against the wall softly, the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

“Feel,” Gackt whispers, and kisses the pale, flawless skin softly. Mana does not speak, but he leans his head forward onto Gackt’s shoulder, and to Gackt this is tantamount to an entire book.