Title: Sightseeing
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.
Notes: So I'm listening to Rammstein right, and later Ibby's coming over and we're going to have a Digimon 01 marathon. A mixture of these two elements made me want to write a Taito. I tried to think of an excuse, since I did say I'd be concentrating on chaptered stuff and requests at the moment, and then I thought sod it because I don't need an excuse to write Taito.
His hair, which Taichi knows is overloaded completely with products, glimmers and glows under the bright stage lighting. His movements are fluid and he's completely into this; Taichi's never seen him so free as when he's performing, be it in front of a brilliant crowd like this one or when he's alone and thinks Taichi isn't looking. His clothes are flattering and tight (Taichi helped to choose them) and even if he wanted to he couldn't disguise the passion he feels when he sings, given away by the unmistakeable edge of something in his voice.
Taichi has a front row ticket, and an unobstructed view. He loves to watch Yamato sing or perform; it gives him a feeling of happiness that couldn't be achieved through anything else. It's probably because this is Yamato in his element, doing what he loves without a care in the world for anything besides himself and his music, and there can never be anything as beautiful as that. He likes to think that it's the same as the way Yamato has told him he feels when he watches Taichi play football. It's the same concept, the same idea, and it's true; Taichi could never purely feel as greatly as he does playing football by doing anything else. He hopes that's how Yamato feels right now, putting his heart and soul into his voice and letting himself go.
And it really is the most beautiful thing Taichi has ever seen. Besides the fact that the person he loves is doing the one thing that can make him happy more than anything, that outfit is positively sinful. There are a lot of girls in the crowd, screaming their shallow confessions of love and hoping desperately to be heard over everybody else. Many are holding up banners to make sure their sentiments are known, willing to leave nothing to chance, and a fair few have made attempts to throw underwear bearing scribbled phone numbers onto the stage. The attention is particularly strong today, and Taichi is certain that it's because of the garments that delicious boy is wearing; he knows that if he were a fangirl like the rest of them, he would be doing the exact same things and would probably go to the most extreme lengths he could to get noticed without being sent to prison. Fortunately he doesn't have to worry about that, since he also knows that the moment the gig has ended and the crowd has started to disperse, he can go backstage and have Yamato all to himself for as long as he pleases.
But those clothes… Taichi makes a mental note to remind Yamato when they get home to forever trust his fashion judgements. Nothing could ever suit him better. His shirt is black, fitted and open; the best way to go as far as Taichi is concerned. Just the top half of his body is almost enough to make him hard where he stands. It is a sharp contrast to his wonderfully pale skin, and every time he moves different parts of his torso are exposed and alternately covered. His leather trousers are tighter still, and cling to every available piece of flesh underneath them like a second skin to leave nothing to the imagination. The shapes of his long legs and the curve of his arse are well-defined under the strikingly bright lights and Taichi can almost conjure up the feeling in his mind of what it would be like to run his fingers over Yamato's every outline, to hold him close and feel his every movement like an addictive burning against him. Except he can't, because even his perverted imagination can't replicate that amazing feeling.
The song ends and Yamato is smiling, his eyes open and excited, unable to hide the blissful satisfaction he acquires merely by singing and knowing that other people are enjoying it almost as much as he is. The cheers grow louder, the fangirls' screamed declarations become more sick and obscene, and Yamato laps it all up like the proverbial cat that got the cream, playing his part as lead singer in a successful rock band with unpractised, natural ease. But his happiness shines through, and his gaze searches out Taichi's for an instant as if he wants to share this incredible sensation with the person he loves most in the world. Taichi can't do anything but smile, lopsidedly and genuinely, because he knows that nothing will be able to bring Yamato down from his high and he wants nothing more than for Yamato to be the happiest person alive.
The excitement doesn't fade even in the slightest as Yamato winks and mouths something that Taichi doesn't quite catch before addressing the crowd again and making their screams double in volume and increase drastically in pitch. Taichi just watches him, drooling without shame, not hugely bothered by missing what he said. For now he'd much rather just relax and enjoy the view, knowing that everything he sees will later belong only to him.