A/N: This is probably the deepest Taito I've ever written...I love it to pieces. I was so angry about my writer's block that I just started writing, and since I was listening to this song on repeat while I wrote, and this song reminded me of Taito...I turned it into a Taito songfic involving a trip to the local art museum. I hope you all like this as much as I loved writing it, since this fic means a lot to me...please review this? I've been feeling down lately, and I could use a boost...
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon, Taichi, Yamato, the Foo Fighters, or their song "Tired of You".
Catharsis Through Paintings
Taichi sighed and stared out the window of the bus, his chin resting on his arm, his eyes half-closed. He didn't want to go on this dumb school trip. Who cares about art museums? He sure didn't.
He knew the only reason he didn't want to go. He knew he would usually leap for joy at the mention of any excuse to get out of school, like a school trip to the local art museum. He was sad.
I can be your liar
I can be your bearer of bad news
He loved Yamato to death. There was no reason he should still be sulking around thinking of him. He should be out there apologizing to the blonde, but instead he was stuck on this trip to hell. They had had one little fight, so what?
They'd been fighting so much lately, all of the fights seemed to almost be blurred into one...
Sick and uninspired by the diamonds in your fire
Burning like a flame inside of you
Why couldn't they just apologize and get it over with? Why did it feel so empty once one finally did?
The school bus rolled past stores and streets, corners and lamp posts. Taichi didn't seen any of them. His eyes saw past them, searching out a boy that he knew wouldn't be standing there.
Is this just desire or the truth
Taichi sighed and slumped down in his seat, listening to the song playing in his ears. His thumb caressed the smooth surface of the CD player on his lap.
The song seemed to speak to his soul. Ever since the last fight, ever since the last time he'd listened to Yamato's voice, or spoken to him, he'd listened to this song on repeat. He wasn't getting tired of it yet.
He realized that the bus was slowing down a bit. He slowly sat up and looked around. Yes, they had arrived.
So shame on me for the ruse
Shame on me for the blues
He stepped off of the bus and looked around. He hugged himself around his hoodie, shivering slightly.
The air was crisp and cool. He was glad it wasn't windy. He hoped to hell he wouldn't see Yamato on this trip. That was the last thing he needed. What he needed was time alone to think, but he hadn't had much of that, being busy with schoolwork, soccer practice, and helping the younger generation of Digidestined out with problems in the Digital World.
He tried to go back in his mind to exactly what this fight had been about, but he couldn't remember anymore. He couldn't remember anything except for the screaming and frustration and tears. He remembered being punched...or did he punch Yamato?
Another one returned that I'll never use
He realized that he hadn't been kissed, hugged, or probably even touched in the past few days. He found that he was missing the feeling of human contact. Yamato was a very touchy-feely person, and enjoyed being touched and touching Taichi. He was always holding Taichi's hand, letting his fingers brush Taichi's neck, nuzzling Taichi, putting his head on Taichi's shoulder. Taichi realized he'd never, ever get tired of the feelings he got whenever Yamato did that.
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
Taichi shuffled into the building, in the middle of the large crowd of chattering people. He was silent, his head down, not really hearing any of the voices around him over the song playing in his head and his heart. He sang under his breath.
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
"Please step this way," the tour guide said through a megaphone-type thing. The noise jarred Taichi and his head snapped up. He growled, annoyed with the disturbance, and slowly slipped back into his former mood as he walked along with the crowd of high-school students he couldn't recognize anymore.
The tour guide went on explaining about different paintings. Taichi did his own touring, moving to the sidelines of the crowd and looking over different paintings. Some were so abstract he had difficulty telling what everything was supposed to represent. There were mixes of colors, shapes, and objects. He never could make sense of the arts...except for music. Yamato had made him love music the way he now did. He'd never get tired of Yamato's music.
He stared at a poster of the Mona Lisa. He scrunched his eyebrows. "What're you smiling at?" he asked under his breath. She continued smiling knowingly. Taichi got an odd feeling she could see inside of him and knew what he was going through. He shifted on his feet and slowly moved away, his eyes never leaving that woman's face.
Hanging on this wire
Waiting for the day where I'll have to choose
He looked at a picture of a crying little girl. She was frowning and a teardrop was running down her cheek, and her hand seemed to press against the glass containing her within its walls. He smiled slightly.
"Yeah, that's how I feel," he whispered, and he sighed.
The next picture was one of a man holding a woman in his arms, her back to his front, her eyes closed and a sort of wistful look on her face. Taichi snorted at that one and looked down at the floor as they passed it by.
Cursed by love so dire
One more boy for hire
One more boy to lend a hand to you
He thought of the way Yamato liked modern paintings. He sometimes showed one to Taichi and tried to explain what the picture was trying to say, and Taichi would listen. He wouldn't remember later on what he said about each painting, but he could give exact details on how the shade of Yamato's eyes changed with different emotions as he talked, and how his hands gracefully swept over the pictures as he pointed different things out.
Sometimes, Taichi would be lucky enough to be allowed to sleep over at Yamato's house, and he would wait until Yamato fell asleep before sitting up and studying him. He'd always thought that Yamato sleeping would make the most beautiful painting in the world. If only he could capture that image in his mind and keep it to himself forever...
Yamato, eyes closed in a look of pure sleepy bliss, hands curled into fists and resting against the pillow and his stomach, his hair half covering his face, his neck, and his shoulder, and the rest spread out randomly over the soft pillow, and his body covered up to his chest with the dark blue bed sheets. The Spongebob Squarepants pillow that Taichi had somehow convinced Yamato to keep one afternoon during spring cleaning would be laying somewhere on the bed, probably at their feet. Taichi would do his best not to press down too hard if he touched Yamato, since he knew his boyfriend was such a light sleeper.
Sometimes, Yamato would wake up while Taichi was watching over him, and he would blush and ask what he was doing.
"I'm turning you into a painting," Taichi would say, and that would make Yamato's eyes go soft and Yamato would reach over and hug him close.
Is this just desire or the truth
He missed him so much...it hurt him, thinking of him like that. Such sweet memories...but there were also bittersweet memories. Taichi smiled. He'd endure a millenium of bittersweet memories as long as he could make the sweet memories last forever in his mind, holding Yamato in his arms.
So shame on me for the ruse
Shame on me for the blues
Another one returned that I'll never use
When Yamato hurt, it was heart-breaking to see. He would close himself to you, become hard and cold, and Taichi would be reminded of when he first met Yamato. Yamato had before admitted he hadn't trusted Taichi at all at first glance, and that it had taken some time for him to even start liking him. Taichi didn't ever want Yamato to not trust him ever again. He never wanted him to close him off permanently. He hated for Yamato to hurt...so why was it getting so hard to go back and apologize?
The tour guide said something about a lunch break, and the students filed into the cafeteria. They filled the entire thing, since they'd brought so many classes. Taichi found a table alone and stared at the tabletop for a long time. He didn't feel like eating anything.
Scrunching his eyebrows, he made a figure out of the light reflecting off of the shiny tabletop. He saw a vision of a blonde beauty, shirtless, turning and glancing back over his bare shoulder. The blonde vision slowly smiled, blue eyes shimmering, and Taichi smiled back.
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
Another memory...a lighted room, Taichi sitting alone at a table, on a stool chair. He was narrowing his eyes and glaring at the paper in front of him. He couldn't get the right color for his pear. He didn't want to fail art class, but it really wasn't very interesting to him, painting fruit and all. He'd rather paint other things...other blonde, beautiful things...
A hand reached out from behind him, guided his own hand to the yellow and green, and dipped the brush gently into the green, getting only a few drops on the paint brush. Then, the hand guided him to the yellow and mixed it in, giving it a very light yellow-green color.
Taichi glanced behind himself and smiled, knowing already who it was from the hand that rested on his. Yamato smiled back, kissed his forehead, and let his hand go.
"Just helping out a little," Yamato said, even though they both knew he was basically saving Taichi's entire class, since this was a retake of his final exam.
"You shouldn't be in here. If you get caught, we'll both be failed."
"Nah, I'm his favorite student. Listen, I'll put in a good word for you...or beg, whichever comes to mind first. You will not fail this class, Taichi."
"Okay," Taichi said simply, then feeling as if he should say much more, since Yamato was doing him a humongous favor.
Taichi gave his boyfriend a gentle push towards the door. "Go," he said simply. Yamato wished him good luck and fled from the room, whistling and trying to look innocent.
Taichi smiled warmly and went back to his painting. He started painting the pear. It was the perfect color.
Taichi wished he had Yamato's gentle hand to guide him now, when he was so lost.
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired of you
He trudged to the next part of the museum. The chatter around him oddly reminded him of waves crashing on rocks out at sea. Smooth, free-flowing water. Even with rocks, branches, and dirt as obstacles, the water continued flowing steadily. Sort of like his relationship with Yamato...or at least he hoped.
Oceans and seas the color of a deep, soulful blue...swirling in the depths of two orbs...held behind the dams commonly known as eyes. Taichi didn't mind drowning, as long as he could pull himself back out, so he could admire the rest of Yamato, also.
Yamato's body could be the beach at the edge of the water. Smooth, white, and warm. Taichi loved lying on the beach, letting his hair get full of the sand, making sand angels. He returned to four-year-old Taichi on that beach, letting himself go. He could be carefree and happy, running around until he fell down, chasing waves as they flowed up to the beach and then quickly retreated in a sort of sucking-motion.
Yamato made him feel alive and like a kid again. Grinning, laughing, not caring about what anyone else thinks, being sucked up and swallowed with the feelings he felt for him.
Taichi didn't mind being swallowed by them every once in a while...
Taichi felt himself being washed up as he walked along, head down, still mouthing words to that song.
I can be your liar
I can be your bearer of bad news
Taichi didn't like those lines...but he knew he could relate to them, too. How many times had Taichi lied to Yamato? How many times had he had to tell Yamato bad news? Telling Yamato he was fine when he wasn't...telling him he wasn't hurt when he was...telling Yamato that he had broken his little brother's heart when he had run away from them all, back in the Digital World...and that Takeru had sobbed in his arms during Yamato's absence, and had horrible nightmares that woke the entire camp up at times...
But nobody was perfect. He told Yamato all the time, and Yamato, in turn, had told him many times. It isn't your fault, everyone makes mistakes, nobody is perfect.
They were fighting, he hadn't been touched in a long time, hadn't even spoken to him...but no relationship is perfect. They all have their rocks, stopping the steady flow once in a while, but when it began flowing again, it was a stronger current than ever.
Sick and uninspired by the diamonds in your fire
Burning like a flame inside of you
Is this just desire or the truth
Taichi knew, deep in his heart, the answer to that question. There was no doubt about it. It was real, true, blue, and something past just desire. He loved Yamato with all his heart, and Yamato loved him back...right?
"For these last few paintings, in this room, here, we will allow you to roam free and speak to each other about your opinions. You become art critics. What does each piece say to you? Go, unleash your creative minds."
The tour guide waved his arms out, and the group standing in front of him slowly separated into smaller groups, talking and going to different sections of the room. Taichi walked to the nearest wall.
So shame on me for the ruse
Shame on me for the blues
Another one returned that I'll never use
He glanced up at the picture and gasped. There, in the picture, stood two people. They were two little boys playing in the snow. One had brown hair, and the other was blonde. He couldn't see the color of their eyes, and the brunette boy's hair wasn't bushy, but he could still recognize himself and his boyfriend in that picture, during one of the many snowball fights they had had as children.
Suddenly, he felt someone take his hand, slowly lift it to the painting, extend his pointer finger, and trace a heart around both boys in the picture.
He stared at the pale hand still holding his up to the painting, feeling his eyes fill with hot tears, and slowly turned to the smiling blonde.
The smile was tired, and the eyes were a little sad. The eyebrows were scrunched together in a concerned expression, and the shoulders were hunched, as if tense, but Taichi felt right at home. The hand holding his slowly traveled up to his arm and turned him towards the blonde, and the arms slipped around him, holding him close.
Taichi leant his head against Yamato's chest and closed his eyes, tears trailing down his cheeks.
"I didn't know you were coming on this trip, too," Taichi whispered.
"I made a few arrangements with your teacher. Did I mention I was his favorite?"
"Did I mention you got me through the class? I got an A on that last painting with the fruit."
Yamato only smiled and stroked Taichi's hair.
"I know. That's how I knew you'd be coming on this trip."
"Did you persuade him to let me pass...?"
"Maybe."
"Oh, Yamato..."
Taichi gripped him tightly, and Yamato hugged back just as much. Yamato nuzzled his neck, craving that contact, and let his hands slip inside Taichi's long sleeves to feel Taichi's bare arms, warming them up.
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired
"Can we stop fighting now?" Yamato whispered to him.
Taichi only had to nod, and Yamato lifted his chin and kissed him. Taichi kissed back with all the love and passion he could muster, pressing Yamato back against the wall. They ran their hands along each other's skin and hair, and only stopped when someone cleared a throat next to them.
They slowly separated and looked at the art teacher.
He was grinning, hands on his hips. "Well, aren't you two cute? It's time to get going, you guys, so you might want to continue this on the bus if you don't want to be left behind."
Taichi had already known his art teacher was gay. That was part of the reason he and Yamato were so close - the art teacher knew Yamato was gay, and Yamato had often gone to him to talk whenever he and Taichi had fights, or just to rave to him about how wonderful everything between them two was.
Yamato gave a sheepish grin and led Taichi to the bus by his hand. They climbed on and the teacher hopped on after them.
"Is that everyone? Let me see, where's my list...yeah, everyone's here. Let's go!"
Taichi and Yamato had gotten a seat together, of course, and they instantly curled up with each other on their seat, nuzzling each other and brushing each other with their fingers, like paintbrushes caressing the paper it was about to color.
Taichi knew he'd never get tired of painting Yamato, in his mind and his heart, and it filled him with such feeling that he nearly started crying again.
He sang the last part of the song he was listening to, directly in Yamato's ear, making Yamato blush because when Taichi sang to him, it was a very spiritual thing, since Taichi only ever sang to him when he was at the peak of his love for Yamato.
I won't go getting tired of you
I won't go getting tired of you
I'm not getting tired of you
~ ~ ~ ~
Please review this for me? Bleh...it's late...I'm glad I got this finished. Anyways, tell me if you loved it, liked it, disliked it, whatever. Goodnight, everyone.