Plastic Man

Chapter 2

I am a plastic man.

Wish I could be the one you could be proud of...

Yamato threw down the cordless phone. His father gave him a glance from the livingroom that said: "That phone costs money, you know." The blonde stormed to his room as teenagers tend to do and fell onto the bed. He didn't expect his father to come knocking at any minute, but for once he wished his father could brave the awkwardness between them and just ask, "What's wrong?"

Hell, Yamato thought, staring at the guitar that had been collecting dust for the last week, The only reason I picked up the guitar was to be closer to him... and he just can't forgive himself. Stupid. Am I doomed to be that stupid, too? Ugh, but that's not the reason I'm upset right now. It's what Sora said. I can't get it out of my head.

"You had to get drunk just to be with me? And then you totally freaked out on me."

Well, yeah. You would if you were unable to have a normal relationship... ever, Yamato thought. He curled up on the bed for awhile and nearly had fallen asleep when his father knocked. He pulled the covers over his head.

"Yamato, talk to the girl, now," his father ordered. "She's waiting at the door. She came all the way over here."

"No."

"Look, whatever happened doesn't matter. You owe her some respect," Hiroaki demanded, walking over to the bed and throwing the covers aside. He grabbed Yamato by the arm so he would face him. "Now, come on. Tell her everything's okay."

Yamato chuckled, "That's just the thing! I'm not okay, Dad. I've never been fucking okay and I'm not going to drag her into my problems."

"Yamato..."

"If I tell her she's just gonna look at me like you all do. Like I'm deaf or something..."

"...why didn't you tell me this was about your Mom?"

"...weren't you listening? It's that look you're giving me right now!" Yamato shrieked.

"...I'm sorry, Yamato, but you're not going to keep her waiting. You owe her anything, even if it isn't the entire story." Hiroaki left and headed for the door. Yamato sloshed out of bed and dragged himself to his doorway. His father opened the front door.

Sora was cute, as always. Cute. She had a winter hat that was just a little too big for her head and it hid her face. Her pink sweater was almost as huge, covering her thin frame. She bowed and brushed back her bangs. When she finally looked up at him, Sora noted how he looked like Hell. She imagined so. She hadn't seen him anywhere for a week. Even his band was wondering what was going on and Sora had nothing to tell them. She pouted at him like Yamato imagined she pouted at Taichi when he said something stupid.

Hiroaki left them alone. Yamato watched as Sora walked over and took a seat at the couch that sat against his bedroom wall. Sora tried to look into his empty blue eyes and eventually forced herself to, because after whatever was troubling him came out, she knew she wouldn't be able to. She imagined the entire thing was something silly. Maybe he was gay. That wasn't so bad. He could stop lying to himself. Maybe he was a virgin and just freaked out because he was wasted. Yeah. That was all.

He walked around the couch and to the balcony, cracking the glass door. He took one of his father's cigarettes. She had never seen him smoke before. With every minute that passed, her heart sank more.

"So, you had to get my Dad involved," Yamato muttered.

"So, tell me..." Sora started, fidgeting with her bracelet. The one he had given her.

"You're gonna wish you hadn't asked," he started. She could see him smile in the reflection on the glass. "But... it's my mother." She hadn't expected to hear that, of all things. She knew they had problems, but... what did that have to do with them? "You know, Takeru's told me that you remind him of our mother. I have to agree. He pushed me to date you, for that reason, I think. I went along with it, because I thought... maybe if we could be together, then my past didn't matter."

"You're not making any sense..." she whispered. "I don't understand what this has to do with your mother. I know you two don't get along..."

"If you knew anything, you wouldn't be here asking me," Yamato snapped. "I just wanted to change, Sora. That's all I've ever wanted since we went to the Digital World, you know that. All I've ever wanted..." he paused to breath out smoke, "...was to move on."

Sora shook her head and began to tear up. "Move on?"

"Are you sure you want to know, Sora?"

Hiroaki sighed from the kitchen.

"I want to help you," she urged, leaning closer to Yamato.

"You're not the first girl to try," he said, not even bothering to hold the tears back, "But my mother..."

"...go on."

"My mother got cancer a few years ago."

"That's awful."

"That's not everything," Yamato snapped, "Well, it effected her judgement. So, because she's some kinda sick monster deep down, she decided to touch me. For a few years, until we found the cancer. Even after, I can't trust the look in her face."

Sora looked away.

Yamato huffed, stamping out the cigarette. He stormed over to Sora, grabbing her by the chin.

"Yamato!" Hiroaki called, hurrying over.

The blonde was already screaming, "Look at me!"

"I can't," she cried, covering her eyes with her hands. "Otherwise I'll just look at you with pity and I know you don't want that. I don't want that."

Yamato tossed her to the side. She landed on the floor as Hiroaki grabbed his son's arm. "Enough!"

"You got all you wanted from me... just like her... so get out," Yamato spat as his father pushed him back.

"Go to the kitchen. Now," Hiroaki ordered. He hated to treat his son like a child, but sometimes he forgot that his son was indeed, a child, no matter what he decided to do and despite his maturity ahead of his time.

Yamato went to the kitchen and sat down. The few times he did get in trouble with his father, that was where the two did sit down to talk.

"It's not your fault," Hiroaki said, helping Sora up. "All you can do now is be there for Yamato."

"I don't know how..." she sighed.

"That's okay. Go home, get some rest. I'll talk to him."

"I shouldn't have come over..." she whispered. "I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

"I promise you, he is," Hiroaki said, helping Sora to the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Ishida. Good evening," she said, speaking each fragment in a steady daze.

Hiroaki showed her out and apologized again, then closed the door. He turned to Yamato. Hiroaki could only see the small child, betrayed by the world, causing trouble at every turn. Then, he remembered both his sons were growing older now. "What the Hell was that?"

"...I'm sorry, Dad," Yamato said, watching his father sit down at the table. "I never meant to hurt Sora."

"You will go apologize for all this tomorrow. And stay out of my cigarettes. They're bad for you."

"Alight."

"Now... do you want to talk to me about it?"

Yes. "No... What more is there to say?"

"I know you're embarassed," Hiroaki said. "At least of all the girls for you to break down around, it was Sora. She cares about you."

Yamato mumbled, "...but I don't care... about her... or anyone... or me..."

"Son?"

"I'm going to go visit Takeru," Yamato replied, standing.

"You're going out this late at night?" Hiroaki asked. "What makes you think you can do that? You're disrespected me, your friends, and yourself. Yamato-" Hiroaki started. "Yamato!" He watched him leave, knowing he couldn't stop him. He never could. He didn't want to try, scared he would push the kid too far. Instead he waited for the kid to come home, as he always did. "I... love you," he whispered, then decided to give his youngest a call.