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+don't you think I'm special?+ by Herongale and Flair
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters. Never will. End of story. Plot is ours, obviously. We disclaim! We disclaim! - -- --- ---- ----- ----- ----- ---- --- -- - -- --- ---- ----- ----- ----- ---- --- -- -
>@
pity the poor black spider for he is bound and chained the web of lust, love and desire leaves nothing to be obtained
pity the still-beating, bloody heart that needs and yearns for more it's a neverending room of rejection and you can never find the door
>@
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+chapter one : fireflies dance+
Why am I here?
New York...practically Tokyo's polar opposite, both geographically and spiritually. Takeru stretched in his seat, and then peeked out the window to look at the clouds below.
"We will begin our descent in approximately 10 minutes. Please prepare to buckle your seatbelts, and thank you for choosing Northwest. We sincerely hope that you have enjoyed your experience flying with us."
Sincerely, huh? Takeru sighed. We'll see about that.
Takeru looked at his ticket stub, and felt a little stupid. Everything about it was so foreign...He knew enough English to recognize the name of the airport... John F. Kennedy International... but the rules and regulations on the back were completely incomprehensible. That didn't matter, though. Takeru knew the general gist: "Void where prohibited."
I think I must be crazy.
This trip was impulsive, a whim. Takeru was hardly the impulsive type, although it must be confessed that he enjoyed being whimsical just a little bit more then your average boy. If he tried to think back on when his... crush... had started, it never ceased to amaze him that he couldn't pinpoint a time. It certainly hadn't begun while he was a member of the original Digidestined, fighting Devimon or Myotismon or any number of Digital baddies. If anything, he had liked Hikari at the time. But that wasn't anything real...at that age, the idea of kissing anyone, especially someone he LIKED, was completely bogus and gross.
It must have been after Mimi moved to America, and her pictures started popping up in girl's fashion magazines. It seemed like every time he turned around, there was another picture of Mimi, courtesy of Hikari and her amazing magazine collection. She was so beautiful, so far away, so much like a princess living in his fantasy world.
She was internationally desired. But Takeru was one of the few people who knew her *personally.* He figured that his chances were slim, but probably better then most. It's not like I have a crush on Britney Spears, or anything... Mimi is REAL...and I know her!
Or at least he wanted to. Yes, I know her, a bit, he thought. But I want to know her better. I want to know her a lot better.
~~~~@~~~~
"Hikari! Mail's here!" Taichi called from downstairs. The pretty brunette sprawled out on her bed in the apartment building in the middle of Odaiba sprang up immediately.
"Coming! Coming!" she called, excitedly. She ran down the stairs, nearly plowing over her cat in her haste, and reached the door just as Taichi opened it. He looked up in surprise.
"Expecting something?" he asked, one eyebrow rising. She blushed. What is wrong with me? she thought. I'm usually never this … excitable.
"Yeah, I'm expecting something," Hikari responded, calmly, smiling at her brother. He handed her a stack of mail, and she rifled through it, tossing things to her brother and other things onto the table nearby, mumbling to herself. "Telephone bill… letter for Tai from Mimi… overdue library book, not again, Tai!" she scolded. She picked up the last piece of mail and suddenly burst into a huge grin.
"What is it?" Taichi asked, in the middle of opening his own letter.
"Uh, nothing!" Hikari exclaimed, pressing the postcard to her heart. "Just… a postcard!" She turned around and ran back upstairs. Not just a postcard, she reminded herself, a postcard from Takeru! She didn't know when this crush began, but she was far too shy to tell the blond boy. And besides, she didn't want to hurt Daisuke's feelings, although he did get annoying once in a while, he was still her friend. Since Takeru had gone to America for a visit, she'd been eagerly awaiting every email and postcard, hoping that one of these times she'd have the courage to tell him that she liked him. She really, really liked him.
Taichi watched his sister run upstairs, stamp dangling from the side of his mouth like the feelers on a catfish. "Strange kid," he muttered, turning to his letters. "I hope she's alright – agh! Fifteen-dollar overdue fine? No way!"
~~~~@~~~~
"Daisuke! Heads up!" Ken yelled, kicking the soccer ball across the field to the brown-eyed leader of the Digidestined, his long hair rippling around his shoulders.
Daisuke blinked and looked up, just a little too slow. The ball slammed into him, knocking him backwards. Half of the team let out a groan, and Ken stifled a wave of panic. "You okay, Daisuke?" he called, thinking mustn't look too concerned, mustn't look too concerned…
Daisuke sat up, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah, fine. Ouch." I shouldn't have been daydreaming on the field! he thought bitterly. But it was so hard to keep his mind off of Hikari. Hikari… he thought, she's so pr – oops, doing it again, aren't I? Heh…
He'd had this… this crush on Hikari for so long, and still she failed to notice him. They were all 16 already, or at least he, Hikari, Takeru and Ken were. Miyako was 17, and Iori was 14. They had all changed a lot, and the only thing that remained the same as before was the fact that Daisuke still had that hopeless crush on Hikari.
It's not hopeless, he thought to himself. It's… a challenge.
"Daisuke?" Ken asked, waving his hand in front of the redhead's face. Daisuke gave a start of surprise. "Are you okay? Do you want to take a break?"
"Uh… what?" Daisuke blinked. Ken sighed, fixing Daisuke with his serious, almost uncanny violet-eyed gaze. Ken had changed more than the other Digi-destined in the last five or so years, in appearance and in personality. He was more open than before, although still very mysterious and reserved, and had let his dark hair grow past his shoulders. He didn't care if people said he looked like a girl – he liked his hair that way. In fact, as Daisuke looked at him, he realized that with his hair grown out like that he looked a bit like a dark, male version of Hikari. "What?" Daisuke repeated.
"Get him off the field!" someone called, "He must have banged his head harder than usual!"
~~~~@~~~~
I'm too old to be acting like Harriet the Spy. I should know better.
Miyako was hiding under the bleachers, scribbling notes in her journal, and occasionally peeking to watch the soccer practice in progress. It sometimes struck her as odd, to see Ken and Daisuke on the same team, considering that they still went to different schools. It's a travel team, I know... and anyone can join it. But Ken's sure coming a long way out of his way to be on a team that is convenient for Daisuke.
Damn.
That Jogress thing seemed to have created a deep bond between the two boys, way deeper then she had with Hikari, or then whatever was between Takeru and Iori. Although it certainly didn't look at all like a romantic affiliation, Daisuke's continual association with Ken really got in the way of Miyako's ability to establish any meaningful rapport with the object of her affections.
She didn't like that she had to resort to spying just so that she could look at Ken.
After their time as active Digidestined had ended, Miyako had figured that Ken wouldn't have much incentive to remain friendly with anyone who didn't make a special effort on his behalf. Miyako had started out brimful of confidence, convinced that her efforts would more then suffice.
Unfortunately, Ken's natural reluctance and mistrust remained a significant barrier... although Daisuke seemed to be able to cross the barrier readily enough. And THAT had been the problem. No matter how hard Miyako tried to establish a friendship with Ken in her own right, somehow Daisuke was always there.
She'd painstakingly arrange a coffee date, and Ken would casually invite Daisuke along for the ride. She would mention that she had an extra ticket to the movies, and he would suggest that she give it to Daisuke, and he'd buy his own. The only time of the year that she KNEW that she'd be able to get Ken all to herself is when she'd invite him to go shopping with her...for Daisuke's birthday present.
It just didn't seem fair.
~~~~@~~~~
He would hold the memory of the kiss always.
Sure, she had kissed him on the cheek, but it was so close to the lips that in his imagination, he would turn his head and ...there. It would have been incredible, if he had dared.
Wow, was she pretty! Her eyes were warm, a burnished mahogany brown, and they were offset by the coolness of her mauve-brown hair. A little stain of red here, a touch of purple there, and what could have been fated to be ordinary turned out to be nothing of the kind.
He loved her. This wasn't just something he told himself shyly, in the way of other 14-year-old boys. No, his feelings were of a higher order, more like those of a young man would be. He would have proudly told the world about the way that he felt...except for one thing. She didn't love him back.
At least, not yet. Iori was growing up as fast as he could, and if he knew anything about life, it's that things change.
She might love him, someday.
How had that kiss gone, again? Iori was sitting on a swing at the park, watching a soccer game playing off in the distance. The memory was so sweet; he liked to replay it in quiet moments like this. It was only a few weeks ago, and Iori didn't need to concentrate very hard to recall that burning tingle that ravished his entire body when she had leaned forward and pressed her lips against his face, her fragrant hair brushing against his cheeks. It had been a nothing moment... Miyako and he were laughing over a TV sitcom that they had been watching, and she had looked so brilliant, laughing, that he complimented her without thinking.
It came without fanfare, without precedent, that kiss. She had leaned forward, and without ceasing her giggling, had pushed Iori down onto the floor and kissed him playfully. "You're so cute!" That's what she said.
She thinks I'm cute... Iori lifted a hand to touch his cheek. Yes... still burning.
~~~~@~~~~
"Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Ken insisted, looking over at his best friend with concerned eyes. Daisuke sighed, and for the fiftieth time that hour, nodded his head.
"Yes, yes I am perfectly fine!" Daisuke replied, rubbing his head. "Would I say so if I wasn't?"
"Yes."
"Shut up," Daisuke laughed and mock-glared at Ken, who just smiled back innocently. What Daisuke couldn't understand was why Ken was so overly concerned about him. Sure, they were best friends, but nothing more than that. And Ken himself had been hit much harder than that, time after time, without a thought to his own welfare.
It just didn't make sense.
They walked along in silence for a little while, weary after their ordeal at the soccer field, quite content just to let the sunlight and warmth wash over them, the faint sounds and smells from all around them in downtown Odaiba a mere murmur in the background. If only life could always be this perfect.
