Whazup y'all. I've been on a haitus since the New Year, posted a few Beyblade fics, but now I'm back to Digimon. Special thanks go to Wormmonsoul for inspiration - reading her fics helped me to handle my writer's block.
This one right here, "The Paris Chase", is a Taito, rated PG 13 for strong language and violence and based on Toni Braxton's "Spanish Guitar" and Ricky Martin's "Private Emotion". It is actually a third part of a series of fics which also includes "Night in Kyoto" and "The Survivor". I'll give you a breif description of what went down in first two parts so that you wouldn't get confused.
"Night in Kyoto": In the age of fifteen Yamato runs away after being raped by his drunken father (no, I don't take Ishida-san as Mr. Evil Personafied. He just had a bad day). Four years later Taichi accidently bumps into him in Kyoto. Taichi is a student in the Tokyo university while Yamato makes a living by, shall I say, "entertaining" wealthy businessmen, politicians and such. He tells Taichi his story and before they part ways makes him promice he'll keep their meeting in secret.
"The Survivor": About a year later a traffic accident kills Sora and leaves Taichi a broken man both physically and mentaly. It takes a visit from Yamato to restore him to his old strong and cheerful self. It also makes him realize something else... in a word, three weeks later he moves in with Yamato.
So here's part three. Hope you'll like it.
I don't own Digimon, I don't own the rights to Martin's and Braxton's lyrics, bla bla bla.
Reviews are welcomed.
God bless!
THE PARIS CHASE
Those damn traffic jams. I hate them.
The taxi got stuck barely minutes after it left the Roissy airport. The weather during the flight from Tokyo was shitty, the landing was worse, and I was not exactly Mr.Happy Guy going onto the plane to begin with, so this jam was not doing anything to improve my mood.The driver, thin and dark-skinned middle aged dude with pencil-thin mustache was humming some song along with the radio, and he was not really a Carruzo either. Damn it all. I was so pissed off I felt like starting a small one-man riot.
To take my mind off the mess I got myself into I leaned back on the seat, closed my eyes and tried to think about something good, but Matt instantly came to mind, and it only got worse from there. "Screw you, Yagami," his last words were and damn, did I ever deserve that.
Eyes still closed I cursed under my breath and viciously slammed a fist against my knee.
You were right Matt. Screw me a thousand times.
After an hour or so I somehow made it to Paris without actually murdering anyone. I wanted rent a car and start searching around staight away, but it was half past midnight already. Well what do you know, I have the best luck. So instead I checked in Duminy Vendome Hotel at rue du Mont Thabor ( they only charged a hundred euro per night, something I could handle - barely, but still ), intending to start scanning the city in the morning.
In the room I showered, tossed a boxers and a T shirt on, grabbed a few Budweisers I bought in the hotel bar and collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling and siping beer. Actually standing on the balcony in a company of your special one and enjoying a glass of fine wine while admiring the lights of night Paris would be more appropriate. Yeah, and some music on the background wouldn't hurt either. Ramantic stuff and all...
Bullshit.
Screw you, Yagami.
I was draining can after can in hopes to get drunk and fall asleep. At least in the sleep I will not remember that Wednesday night three weeks ago when the trouble started.
That night I was sitting in the kitchen and staring at the egg lying on the table in front of me. You see, after moving in with Matt I dropped from Tokyo University and was now working in the small advertisement agency in downtown Kyoto. My job was to come up with pictures for ads in newspapers, flyers and such, and now they gave me this. An ad for a stupid egg, needed by tomorrow and I absolutely had to make it look good because an egg farm from some hellhole in Okinawa was paying us a large chunk of money for the compaigne. So I had two choises - come up with something good in a hurry or face the wrath of Hakito-san, the boss almighty. Of course, I was not being able to think of any good idea so far, so to say I was in a shity mood would be an understatement.
To make things even worse, it was almost ten pm and Matt had yet to return from work - a few months back he found a job in the music store. Usually he'd be home by eight. What if something happened to him?
"I'm home!" his cheerful voice sounded a second later and Matt walked in. He was carrying a carton box which he proceeded to slam on the table.
"Oh damn... Tai, the egg. What is it doing here?.. What was it doing here, I mean?"
"Where have you been?" I grumbled, wiping the yolk off the box.
"Well I..."
Oh my. It looked like tonight Matt was on a mission to piss me off.
"A DVD player? Fuck is that? Yesterday you were bitching about how we're running out of money."
"It's a gift," he beamed. " I ran into Aizawa-san on the way back from the store and..."
"Aizawa-san?"
"... he suggested we have a drink or two..."
Slowly, I raised from the chair.
"The old fart you used to hang with before we...? What the fuck, Matt?!"
He looked at me perplexed.
"Yeah, him. What's the problem?"
"You going back to being a fucking whore, how's that for a problem?"
Matt sighed and shook his head, losing the last remains of a good mood he have left.
"Ah yes, I see. Yagami Taichi is having a bad day and has to let the world know about it. Tai, you know I'm not into this stuff anymore. I hated it anyway. We had a few sakes, chatted a bit, then he gave me a ride home. That's all."
"Yeah, sure. And he bought you a DVD for being a great talker I guess, huh?!"
Damn, what was going on with me? I felt he was telling the truth and I was just trying to start a fight, but for some reason I would not shut up.
Matt's cheeks flared. Now he was getting angry.
"Well Tai, the fact that you only think about getting in my pants doesn't mean everyone else is like that. People can be friends without shagging, but hey, I guess it comes as a news for you. Aizawa-san was just glad to see me, so he wanted to make me a gift. Well yeah, he actually asked if we can go to his place, but I told him I have a boyfriend and am no longer in business. Which he took like a man, without throwing fits, by the way."
"Oh yeah?! Well Matt, I have an idea. Why don't you take this damn DVD thing and go back to suck Aizawa-fucking-san's dick?!!"
"Screw you, Yagami!" he shot back.
I laughed.
"Screw ME? Yama, wake up, it's you who's been screwed for years by everybody who's willing to bother, including your own old man."
Matt jerked as if he was struck in the face, while I actually felt like striking myself in the face. Well for that matter face, gut, balls and everywhere I could reach. It was over the line. Way over the line.
"Shit... Hey listen, I'm sorry. Really, I am. I..."
He just turned on his heels and walked out. I stood in the kitchen for a minute or two ready to bang my head against the wall and silently calling myself every name in the book when I felt a rush of cold air on my skin. A draught.
Oh, shit
"Matt!"
The front door was open. Sound of footsteps on the stairs.
"Matt, come on! I dunno what came over me... come on, I'm sorry! Matt!..."
He was gone.
Matt, Matt, Matt. Always prefering to walk away from the problem rather than to deal with it. When he started doubting himself and questioning his position within the Digidestined, he had walked. When his father, in the fit of drunken rage, raped him, he had walked. Now this.
But it was me to blame, one hundred and fifty per cent. Matt did not come to me - I came to him. I was sharing his life, he was not sharing mine. Even the flat we lived in was his. Yagami Taichi, you are a selfish, spoiled, stupid ass.
Who knows, maybe he was not here in Paris after all. It's just I was sure he was not in Japan. Two days after Matt left I took a vacation and went out searching far and wide all over the country. Tokyo, Osaka, Yokohama, Hiroshima, you name it, and all was in vain. I could not turn to police for help either, since he was in the missing list for the last eight years anyway and letting the authorities know I was in contact with Ishida Yamato and did not inform them about his whereabouts would be dumb of me. I did not have enough money to hire a private detective, and while I was sure Ken would be happy to help, Matt has always been dead set against the idea of letting the other Chosen or his folks into what happened to him, so I was hesitant to turn to PI Ichijouji.
And I believe it was in Hiroshima where it hit me - ever since Matt learned about his Mom moving to Paris to reunite with her parents last year he was frequently talking about going to France to see her - in disguise, of course, so that she would not recognize him.
So I've decided to take a chance. Who knows, maybe I'll luck out and finally track him down somehow, just like I did before, in Kyoto.
So far, however, everything was for naught. I circled Paris in my rented car for hours. From the filthy poor hoods where Arab immigrants lived to Avenue Foch, the Golden Ghetto, and Champs Elysee, I cruised the streets slowly, sometimes getting out of the car and and entering the stores,cofee shops, pubs, night clubs - you know, just in case.
Finally, around midnight, desperate, exhausted and hungry I parked in front of a ninetennth century-style building and headed down the stairs to a small bistro based in the dungeon. My searching session was through for today - all I wanted was to grab a little snack, return to the hotel afterwords and try my luck again tomorrow.
As I entered, a blues melody hooked me and led me through the dark,crowded hall to the little stage surrounded by a small crowd of people...
And my heart sank.
A smokey room, an old cafe
They come to hear you play
And drink and dance the night away
I stand out in the crowd
And close my eyes
Dream you're mine
But you don't know,
You don't even know that I'm there
Matt. Sitting on the tall stool with his head lowered, fingers running over the strings, disconnected from the reality and drafting into his own world. I knew it was him straight away, even though I could not see his face, even though his hair was now dyed jet black.
I could not utter a word - I could hardly even breath. Mesmorized, I stood watching the slim figure in black trousers and silky maroon shirt caressing the strings gently as the guitar softly cried.
I wish that I was in your arms
Like that Spanish guitar
So you could play me through the night
'Till the dawn
I wish that I was in your arms
Like that Spanish guitar
All night long
I'll be your song
So far Matt, head deep in the music, had yet to asknowledge his audience.
Well what do you know, I DO have the best luck after all! My hands were slightly shaking; I tucked them into the jeans' pockets and bit my lip, trying to concentrate. Okay, what to do now? Will I be able to talk him into returning to Japan? Will he forgive me? Will he even talk to me?
You break my heart with every note you play
I pray you look my way
And hold me in your arms one day
I wish to be the one
That you caress with tenderness
But you don't know
You don't even know that I exist
Then he looked up and our eyes met. The contact lasted a second or two; Matt's glance became hollow as he looked through me, his face carrying a withdrawn, somewhat even cold expression; yet his hands slightly trembled and the guitar let out a pained sound.
Well, at least he recognized me. Was it for better or for worse, I could not tell. On one hand, he ignored my presence, but on the other hand he clearly was taken by surprise to say the least... Anyway, I've decided to go outside to clear my head a bit and try to think of what I'll say to Matt after he goes to a break. I mean, it's not like he was going to play forever.
At the door I could not resist but throw another short glance at the figure on the stage.
I wish that I was in your arms
Like that Spanish guitar
So you could play me through the night
'Till the dawn
I wish that I was in your arms
Like that Spanish guitar
All night long
I'll be your song
"Eh toi!"
Huh? I guess they were talking to me. Two guys in their late twenties who exited the bistro right after I did. Stopping near my car I watched them approach.
"Votre bourse, vite."
Okay, it's either they did not see I was not French and thus didn't speak the language or the dudes were high on something. As they came closer I realized both of my suppositions were justified.
"Votre bourse, vite!"
"Hey guys, I don't understand," I said in English, trying to sound peaceful. "Anything I can help you with?"
They exchanged glances and a few phrases in French.
"Give us wallet!" one of them demanded.
Oh well. The last thing I needed now was a pair of potheads thinking they were the Bloods.
"No sorry," I told him. "Now please bug off guys, okay?"
"Wallet!" the juicer demanded stepping closer.
I raised my voice:
"I said no. Look, why don't you find yourselves a hobby or something?"
The next thing I knew I was being punched in the face and thrown on the windsheild of the car.
Oh no, you just didn't.
Slowly, I wiped the blood from my mouth. I've had enough shit for today and there was no room for any more of it. Fuck you where you breath, dudes.
I waited for them to approach and as one of them reached out for my jeans' pocket, I grabbed him by the hair and introduced his face and the car's hood to each other. As he rolled on the ground and groaned, clutching his bloodied kisser, I attempted to kick the other junkie in the stomach, but as high as he was, he managed to grab my leg and yanked me off the windsheild. The hard landing on the pavement left me gasping for air, but as the guy approached I tackled him down, mounted him and threw a few punches, busting his mouth. Measure for measure.
"Okay guys," I panted, getting up. "You had fun, I had fun, now let's say goodnight and go home."
A noise made me turn around. The first attacker was back on his feet and this time there was a knife in his hand. He charged, slashing the blade at my mid section and I barely escaped by jumping back - still, he managed to cut through the shirt and leave a long, bleeding scratch on my chest.
Uh-huh... It was not funny anymore. Sidestepping, ducking, avoiding the wild-eyed juicer I feverishly looked around; the street was empty and quiet, so guess I had to deal with this mess myself. Well okay then... As he lept at me again, I grabbed his knife-weiding hand at the forearm.
" Hey asshole, I told you to calm dow-aaaaaaaah!!!"
The son of a bitch did what I last expected him to do - yanked his hand back, and since my grip was not tight enough, the entire four-inch blade was dragged across my palm, leaving a deep cut. Crazed by pain I folded in two, growling in agony and covering my injured hand with the other.
Meanwhile two things happened - the second junkie finally regained his footing and was approaching, and a third figure came running up the stairs from inside the bistro. There was a gun in his hand.
Great. Reinforcements.Three on one and my hand's fucked up. No go. I was getting out of here.
With the remaining strenght I kicked the knife weilder in the stomach, knocking him down, and ran towards the car. I collapsed on the driver's seat and started the engine whimpering from the torturous pain in the palm.
Fuck you gently with a chainsaw, guys. You're not smoking me. I'm too busy to die.
But they just would not let me be! Just as I was pulling off, another car leapt forward, racing after mine. Shit. It looked like they were dead set on getting my wallet or wasting me, or both, at any cost.
The chase continued for about ten minutes and I was starting to panic. The traffic here in France was right-sided, something I haven't got used to yet, so driving at 60 miles per hour I barely escaped a head-to-head collision a couple of times. Scary stuff. Plus the the wound was bothering me a great deal - not because of pain, pain was something I could handle ( though it still hurt like hell; Ken once told me about a girl he knew who was Goth and used to cut herself just for kicks. I was wondering what kind of kicks you can get out of this experience. I certainly was not enjoying it one single bit.), but because of bleeding. Blood streaming through my fingers and down the palm have made the wheel slippery and I had one hell of a problem controlling it.
Which ultimately cost me.
As I looked wildly in the mirror to see if the robbers' car was still chasing me ( it was), my hand slipped from the wheel, the venchile grazed the wall of a nearby house with it's side, swayed to the other side of the road and as I yelled "OH SHIT!!!" broke through the guarding fence and went tumbling into the ravine by the road. It landed on it's roof with such an impact that I blacked out for a minute or two...
Regaining my sense I found myself lying inside the car, trying to figure out if my arms and legs were still attached to the body. Seemingly they were but I was so dazed I didn't even want to move.
But hey, it's for the best. I mean, maybe the jackasses will think I'm dead and leave me alone.
Or maybe not.
A few feet away I heard the brakes screech and someone came running down the ravine.
"You stupid prick! Talk to me, asshole, come on, talk to me!"
So that is it. I'm about to get stabbed or shot to death, assuming one of them had a gun, here in some dirty hole in suburban Paris. And I didn't even tell Matt I'm sorry.
"Dumb son of a bitch! Idiot!" the thug smashed the windsheild with his running shoe and started to drag me out of the car, swearing all the way. "Don't you dare to die... don't you even fucking think about it!"
"Go fuck yourself, friend, " I muttered, desperately trying to get a hold on something... and there it came to me.
HE WAS YELLING AT ME IN JAPANESE.
"Matt..? Matt!!!"
"Leave the wheel alone, damn it!" he growled, tugging at my shirt. "The car's going to explode any second now!"
I released the grip. He yanked me out of the salon and started to drag me away from the car.
"Matt, it's okay, I can walk,"
"Sure you can. Now shut up or I'll finish what those guys started and beat the shit out of you."
We finally made it up the hill, where he laid me on the ground and ran his hands over my body, applying pressure here and there and asking if it hurt.
"Matt, I told you I'm okay, no harm do-"
Below us in the ravine the car exploded with a deafening boom, turning into a giant fireball.
"No harm done.", I finished. Matt sighed and withdrew from me, bowing his head wearily.
" Yagami. You are a suicidal, crazy asshole. You were born an asshole, you live like an asshole and you will die like an asshole someday because I won't be there to get you out the shit you will surely get yourself in."
"Matt..."
"Shut up. Here's a rock, shove it in your mouth. Please. Just shut up."
There was silence for a while. Somewhere in the distance sirens sounded - probably police or ambulance. I kept quiet, throwing glances at Matt ocassionaly. He was pale; his hands, resting on his knees, were slightly shaking; his face in patches of reflected light from the fire was tense and exhausted.
Every endless night has a dawning day
Every darkest sky has a shining ray
And it shines on you; baby can't you see
You're the only one who can shine for me
Finally, he spoke without turning to me: "Why did you flee?"
"What do you mean?"
"Dummy. I run out, see those two beating you down, so I pull a gun on them. They ran for their lives, then you hop into your car and drive off. I had to freakin' chase you through the whole city. What's up with that?"
"You mean, it was you with the gun?"
"No, it was your Mom." he snorted.
"Well Matt, I didn't know..."
"Because you're a stupid asshole. Shut up."
"Where did you get the gun from?"
"The guy who owns the bistro gave me one. All of his employees have one. Just in case, you know. That hood is not really safe at night."
I chuckled, "Oh yeah, I found it out the hard way, I guess."
"Very funny, Yagami. What are you doing in Paris anyway?"
"Well, I was looking for you to say I'm sorry. I owe you an apology."
He finally looked at me with a strange look in his eyes.
"An apology?"
"For what I said to you then, when you left. I was... well Matt, you're right, I was a complete asshole that night. I knew I was not right, but you know me, wild hair up my ass and all. I just could not shut up. I'm truly sorry. Listen, there is not much I can say about it. I'm sorry, that's just that. If there is anything I can do so that you'll forgive me, I will."
Matt continued to stare at me in that weird way, and when he spoke his voice was strangely strained.
"Tai, I..."
I raised my hand, asking him not to interrupt. Blood was still dropping down from my fingers.
It's a private emotion that fills you tonight
And the silence falls between us
As the shadows steal the light
And wherever it may find you
Wherever it may lead
Let your private emotion
Come to me
"One more thing. I would ask you to come back to Japan with me. I would. I've already lost Sora and I don't want to lose you too. But after what I did, what I said to you back then, I have no right whatsoever to ask you for anything. So what I'm saying is, I was just looking for you to apologize. Shall you forgive me and return home, I'd be the happiest guy alive. And I'd rather kill myself than ever hurt you again. If you decide otherwise, I'm cool with it. I brought all this mess on myself and it's only fair I'd be the one to pay the piper. So..."
"Shut up Tai. How many times do I have to tell you, shut your big mouth up. "
We looked at each other for what it seemed ages to me, before Matt moved closer and emraced me.
When your soul is tired and your heart is weak
Do you think of love as a one-way street?
But it runs both ways; open up your eyes
Can't you see me here, how can you deny?
"Stupid, stupid jerk," he whispered in my ear. " You scared me shitless. You nearly got yourself killed, you understand that? How do you think I was supposed to live with that?"
Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, I felt like I was about to fly.
"So does it mean we're cool... and you're returning home?"
He raised his head and smiled at me.
"You know that, Yagami."
Every endless night has a dawning day
Every darkest sky has a shining ray
It takes a lot to laugh as your tears go by
But you can find me here till your tears run dry
It's a private emotion that fills you tonight
And the silence falls between us
As the shadows steal the light
And wherever it may find you
Wherever it may lead
Let your private emotion
Come to me
The End.