Lacrimo Crystallinus

It is like walking into a death trap, to put it mildly. Bao and I had talked before about how I would meet her parents, but it had always been done with such deliberation, such careful thought weighing the time, place, and occasion, and even (to an extent) how we would dress. I had only had nightmares of meeting them like this.

“Who the hell are you?” the man (I presume who is Bao’s father) demands, his dark eyes cold and nearly offended at my presence. Bao’s mother also looks at me, her gaze far less hostile than that of her husband.

As I examine them, I am forced to remember that I am closer to their age than that of their daughter, and the thought makes me feel ill with myself again.

Bao’s father is a short man, reaching up to only my chest at full height, and his hunched-over posture does nothing to make him appear taller. The first things about him that I notice are his eyes. They are harsh and judgmental, nearly black and naturally very narrow. They look sunken in and exhausted beneath subtle eyebrows. His wide nose sits between etched-in lines of a frown, his defiant lips curved down only slightly at the ends. He has low cheekbones that seem to be prominent though he is not particularly thin, but do not draw away from his severe eyes and disapproving mouth. Drawing his critical, yet exhausted appearance together is his dark, obviously sun-tanned complexion and the various darker spots along his face.

On the other side of the bed, Bao’s mother stands with her hands holding her daughter’s. Her face is oval-shaped with round cheeks. Unlike her husband, her features are smoother and seem almost fluid in that they all glide into one another almost gracefully. Her lips are gently pulled down at one side in a sort of half-frown, worried rather than annoyed. Her nose is smaller than her husband’s, but the shape is almost exactly the same, and is tucked between very vague laugh lines. She has the same luminous, expressive eyes that Bao has, and the same feminine posture.

“Hey, punk, are you listening?” her father asks angrily. “I asked you a question!”

Before looking at him, I glance at Bao. Her expression is mortified. “I apologize, sir,” I say as gently as possible. At my tone, he is silent, but he still looks put-off. “I am a friend of Bao’s, and I have come to check up on her.”

“Why haven’t we met before, boy?” he asks, clearly distrusting of me. His frown deepens. “I don’t like my girl hanging around strange boys like you. Speak up.”

“We have not had the chance to meet because I met your daughter while visiting Denver from Nagoya, Mr. Zhao. I do not live here.”

“You’re Japanese?” he asks, clearly interested, though I can’t tell if it is positive interest or not. “What’s your name?”

“Yes, I am Japanese.” I glance at Bao. Her eyes are apologetic. “Well, ah… you may know me as the performer, Gackt.”

Bao’s mother looks at me for a long moment, realization dawning in her eyes. “Kamui Gackt,” she says to her husband, “I know of him.” Her husband glances at her momentarily before looking hardly at me, assessing me carefully. “But I never thought I would ever meet someone famous… I can’t believe that you are him—but you are!”

I smile sheepishly. “Ah, thank you, I think.”

Her husband scoffs. “The police told us that you were with her when she was attacked… at her mother’s house. Bao was alone at that time. That seems pretty convenient, doesn’t it, mister musician?”

“Dad!” Bao protests from the bed, saving me from having to scramble for some sort of explanation. “He was there to help me. We were supposed to hang out that day, and he arrived in time to save me from what could have been even worse.”

He stares at me once again, his eyes analyzing my expression doubtfully. I remove my sunglasses, remembering my manners though it is probably too late. His frown remains, but he says gruffly, “My name is Wei.”

“I am Hui Zhong,” her mother says, bowing slightly. “We are pleased to meet you.”

“Thank you. I am Gackt, as I have said, but… you may call me Satoru. That is my real name.”

Wei allows me to take a place beside Bao and inquire about her condition, all the while eyeing me cautiously, as if afraid that at any moment I’ll steal her away. She is weak and a little injured, but other than that, she seems to be fine. Her smile is as radiant as ever, and her eyes are twinkling happily at my return. We talk for a while, but the things we really want to say cannot be said.

“How did you meet my daughter, Satoru?” Wei asks, his critical eyes already assessing my reaction. I unwillingly look away from Bao and into his face. I thought that this war had been averted… but apparently not.

“She attended one of my concerts. She was brought by her friend, but her friend left her there by herself, and we ended up sharing a taxi. We talked a little on the way and became friends.”

“Jess,” Bao offers half-willingly, her eyes still wandering to my face. I give her a smile and squeeze her hand. “Dad, please…”

“You are older than you look, aren’t you? I don’t like this suddenness—you are hiding something.” He pauses, then his eyes are very, very dimensionless. “Please leave.”

I don’t know what to say. He is right that I am older than I look. He is also right that I am hiding something from him. I return his stare, but I am certain that he can feel my shame. I make no move to go, but feel trapped by his omniscient eyes.

“Enough, Wei,” Hui Zhong chides, “leave the boy alone, will you? He is probably just as upset as we are right now.”

He scoffs and stands up. “I’m going to go for a walk.” He leaves the room without waiting for a response from anyone.

“I’m sorry about him, Satoru,” she says gently as soon as he is out of earshot, her hand patting my shoulder in a very motherly way. “He is unused to the prospect of his daughter growing up, and handsome young men like you make him uncomfortable with the realization.” Her smile is luminous, just like her daughter’s, and I smile in return.

“Thank you for your trust, Miss Zhao. I appreciate it.”

“I wouldn’t call it trust, Satoru, but I don’t think you are a danger to Bao. For Wei’s sake… please make this brief. It will take some time for him to be comfortable with her having boy friends and now is not the time to impose upon him for tolerance.”

“I understand.” I give Bao another glance and find myself rather uncomfortable with the thought of being apart from her. It strikes me at once because I had never before found it difficult to be away from her… or any other girlfriend I had had, for that matter. “Be well in my absence,” I say softly, trailing my hand down her arm and away from her hands as I gather my wits and leave.