Summary: "Matt's like... a child hold his favourite toy. If he doesn't keep readjusting his grip, he thinks the toy will disappear." --So what's Tai? The toy that will soon become irreparable. //Yamachi.//
Words: 858
Notes: See footnotes at end ^^ This is a rather angsty story (which is normal for me...), and will, of course, contain BoyxBoy (Yamachi).
Broken Toys
::: Prologue : Wait for Me :::
(Matt's POV)
I wish you wouldn't wait for me.
It's always the same. We both know where I go at night—who I go to—and yet, you're always waiting for me to come back home. No matter how late I stay out, you're always right there, a warm dinner ready and a bright grin on your face. I try to smile back, but we both know it's full of guilt. We both know it's not good enough. Still, with those terribly sad bad eyes of yours, you silently tell me you forgive me. Every time. Even when I come back so late that you've made breakfast instead of supper.
I really wish you wouldn't wait for me. That when I left to see someone else, you would look angry or accusing. I wish you would tell me to make a choice, or at least to stop. But you never do. You just stand there with knowing eyes and a bright, forgiving smile. I wonder what you would do if I told you... I mean, of course you've figured it out, but would it change anything to hear it from me? Or would you just smile that same smile and say, "I know."
If I knew that you wouldn't be waiting for me back home, I wouldn't feel so terrible when I go out. I might even be able to tell you that I've grown bored with our relationship. It's funny, isn't it? You were always the one seeking adventures and change. I was the one who was too afraid to love someone because I feared they'd leave. And yet, I'm the one who left. Then again, maybe that's not funny, is it? Not when I know how much it hurts you.
I still love you, you know. I still love that you wait for me. I just wish you wouldn't. I wish you wouldn't put up with me by sacrificing yourself. I would rather you tell me you hate me, so that leaving you every night doesn't make me feel so damn guilty. I wish you'd act more like you cared that I left...
"Yamato?" a voice asks me. A voice that is sweet and playful, but not yours.
With a sigh, I let go of my thoughts to look at the man I happened to be with today, "Yeah? What's up?"
"You just seemed pretty out of it, that's all."
"Sorry."
The man looks at me, but I get the feeling he doesn't really see me. Not like you.
"I don't think this is working, Yamato," the man tells me. I shrug; they usually only last a few weeks, so I'm used to it. "I mean, you're always thinking about him! I know you wanted two relationships, but I don't even think I'm that to you! I'm like your distraction, or something."
See, I wish you'd say something like that to me, so I could get angry and no longer feel so wretched. But you never do. I don't know if it's because you really love me, or because you really don't care. No... you wouldn't wait if you didn't care, right? You're not like these side guys that I use as an escape. But what am I even escaping from? Why don't I stay with you, if it feels so bad to leave? Why—
"Yamato!"
Oops, I'd forgotten about the man again. After a moment, I answer. "No, you're right. This isn't working out." And then I pull up my pants, button my shirt, and leave. I don't bother to see how the guys takes it. I don't really care. Instead, I'm going home. Home to where you'll be waiting for me, that same smile on your face. My stomach ties itself in knots just thinking about it.
As I expected, when I opened our front door, you looked up from your spot on the couch and smiled.
"Welcome home, Yama."
"Tai," I whisper, your name slipping out in a much more pleading way than I intended. I know you realise it too, because your eyes soften even further and you stand up to hug me.
"Are you hungry?" You ask me, still not letting me go. Your voice is so soft and caring...
To the question, I shake my head, "I ate already." I hate that you care so much. That no matter how many times I turn down your supper, you always make another.
I hate that you nod understandingly and say, "Okay."
I push away from you gently and you don't protest. You still have that soft smile. Like no matter how much it hurts, you're happy just to see me.
With a deep breath, I ask the same question I do every night, "Will you be waiting tomorrow?"
And just like always, your smile grows, and you say, "Yes." Then you kiss me once—more to reassure me than yourself, I think—and disappear into the kitchen to put away the meal you'd made for me. By then, I'm already in our room.
I wish you wouldn't wait for me.
But maybe...
Maybe I never want your answer to that question to change.
*
Footnotes: There is another part to this (the main part, actually) but I didn't know whether or not to post it. I figured I could post this prologue first, and then if people like it, I can post the second part ^^ Regardless, reviews are always greatly appreciated~!