2 August 2013
Yamato jolted awake as something banged loudly on the floor. He hadn't really been sleeping but rather just dozing as he had been doing all night. His worry for his brother—and to a slightly lesser extent, his brother's non-girlfriend—had kept him unable to truly sleep. He rubbed his hands across his tired face as he breathed out a heavy sigh before he dropped them into his lap again. Yamato stared at his open palms, trying to remember why he would feel like something was missing—besides Takeru, of course. It came to him like a lightning bolt as he remembered that he had been holding his phone—staring at the screen desperate for a reply to his latest text—when his heavy eyelids had slowly slid shut.
He frantically reached around searching for the missing device, irrationally sure that his brother had to have sent something to him by now. Irrational due to his past experience during the night—other than one single nonsensical reply sometime around midnight (he wasn't entirely sure what the actual time had been), Yamato had received no word at all from his brother.
Out of the corner of his eye, something glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window, and he glanced to the floor where his black cell phone lay. Its screen was dark with a few glare lines streaking across its smooth surface, taunting him with its complete blankness. Exhausted, he reached down and grasped it in his fingers, lifting it up so that he could see it. He pressed his thumb to it and the screen burst to life with a jarring brightness. His shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he let out a breath that he hadn't even known he had been holding. All that stared up at him from the screen was his phone's wallpaper—a generic picture of blue and white swirls that raged around each other. He glanced at the time displayed in the corner, noticing that it had been a little over an hour since the last time he had called and texted Takeru.
A few moments later, he tore his eyes away from the screen to glance around vaguely and remembered once more that he was in his brother apartment rather than his own. It had been the first place he had looked for him and, as his brother had given Yamato his spare key, he had just barged on in after the wedding reception had finished, yelling out Takeru's name. But no one had been inside. So, after pacing in front of the elevator for ten seconds and deciding that it was taking entirely too long, he had run down the steps three floors below to Hikari's apartment. He would have been far too impatient to stand inside the elevator anyway.
He had no key to her apartment, so all he could do once he got there was bang on the door loud enough to disturb the neighbors and hope someone answered. But no one ever did. He'd slumped back to Takeru's apartment and started his assault on Takeru's phone—which had gone unanswered. He looked at the phone again, wondering if it was worth trying again. He typed up another quick text, telling Takeru to call him as soon as he got the chance. He waited for a few seconds for an answer, but none was forthcoming so he tossed the phone onto the cushion beside him.
Resting his elbows on his knees, he let his head fall onto his hands, trying to think of what he should do next since his brother was still missing, and he contemplated going down to check Hikari's apartment again. He had no idea what could have possibly happened during the night—though his mind had taken him on a roller coaster of possibilities. Suddenly, a memory of his brother's devastated face floated up from the back of his mind—years ago, he'd seen his brother destroyed once by Hikari (not that it was completely her fault as much as Yamato had wanted it to be so that he could have been justifiably angry at her about it—and he was also fairly certain that Hikari still had no idea what had happened), and he had no desire whatsoever to see Takeru in that state ever again. He was worried that something might have happened last night, just like it had before all those years ago. He was worried about what state his brother would be in when he finally did return home.
Letting out a cry of frustration and helplessness, Yamato got to his feet and dragged himself off to the bathroom. As he splashed cold water on his face, the same internal argument cropped up—should he or should he not tell Taichi about it? On one hand, Hikari was Taichi's little sister and he had just as much right to know she was missing and not answering calls and texts, too. On the other hand, there was really no point in both of them being worried sick. Yamato sighed as the latter argument won again. He dried his face off with a towel and leaned over the sick to look at himself in the mirror.
He looked terrible.
The suit that he had donned the night before for the wedding (and the one that he had not managed to change out of yet) was looking distinctly disheveled—the jacket and pants were noticeably rumpled, he'd lost the tie hours ago, and his no-longer-crisp white shirt was hanging open at the top because the top few buttons had come undone at some point during the night. Also, his blond hair was sticking up all over the place, almost as bad as when he used to spike it up on purpose as a kid. There were heavy bags and dark streaks under his blue eyes—a sure result of his sleepless night. Needless to say, he'd had better days.
As he flicked off the switch to the bathroom lights, he froze as he heard the unmistakable jangling sound of keys from the other side of the front door. Almost disbelieving after the nerve-wrecking night he had spent, he took a few steps toward the front door as it opened and Takeru walked inside as simple as that. Still somewhat wondering if he had finally lost his mind, he just stood staring at his brother, who gave him a surprised look of his own and said, "Oh, hey, Yamato." With an assessing curious smile, Takeru looked Yamato up and down—not that Yamato could blame him as he had just seen what he looked like in the mirror about ten seconds ago—before he continued, "I was going to come see you in a little while. Sorry about not answering your text this morning." His tone was casual and completely normal—as if he hadn't been missing for almost twenty hours.
Unable to contain himself any longer, Yamato crossed the space still between them in three long strides and enveloped his brother in a giant hug. He could feel Takeru stiffen in surprise, but his brother didn't say anything and Yamato didn't particularly care at that moment. "Where have you been?" Yamato finally asked with unconcealed panic and relief edged along every single word.
"That's…an excellent question," Takeru said and his tone was somewhere between his usual cheerfulness and utter bafflement. The words at the end were said slowly and almost with resignation, too.
But when he didn't say anything more beyond that, Yamato pulled away from him and placed his hands on Takeru's shoulders instead. He searched his brother's face, seeking the answers that he thought Takeru was holding back but found only his brother's normal gentle smile and an apologetic look in his eyes. "What the heck is that supposed to mean?" Yamato asked. He took a step back and ran one of his hands through his hair as he gave a small shake of his head. "Actually, never mind about that. Just tell me—what happened between you and Hikari?" he asked, trying really hard to ignore the deep pit of dread in his stomach on what Takeru's answer would be.
But his brother just blinked at him almost vacantly, which was just a completely different reaction from what Yamato was actually expecting. "What do you mean?" Takeru asked with genuine confusion.
Yamato crossed his arms in front of his chest and raised his eyebrow at his brother, wondering if his brother was really just that naïve (unlikely as that was) or if he was being evasive on purpose (strangely enough, also very unlikely—which just left him wondering what the third option could possibly be). "What kind of question is that?" Yamato shot back, just so sufficiently tired and frustrated at the whole situation. "What do you think I mean?"
For a moment, Takeru just stared at him blankly before Yamato saw the understanding blossom in his eyes. Then, to his great and utter surprise, Takeru burst into a complete fit of laughter, making Yamato feel sort of wholly unappreciated. He'd spent the entire night awake with worry and now his brother was laughing at him. However, Yamato just pressed his lips together and waited for his brother's laughter to end—one way or another, he was going to stand here and wait for an explanation no matter how long it took to get the whole story.
As Takeru wiped the tears from his eyes, he said breathlessly, "I'm sorry, but for you to think that…" He trailed off as another smaller bout of laughter escaped from him. He took a deep breath to compose himself and finally managed to say, "Yamato, of course nothing happened between me and Hikari. That would have been a rather radical change of our relationship. We don't—"
"See each other that way," Yamato finished for him, having heard the same line from both of them multiples times. "I know," he said with a long-suffering sigh. He continued, "But when I sent you a text asking where you were, you sent me a reply around midnight that said—well, I don't remember exactly what it said, but it was something like I wouldn't believe what you and Hikari did and that you had to talk to me."
"So you just assumed…" Takeru said trailing off the obvious conclusion with an amused look on his face.
"Not at first," Yamato admitted ruefully. "But eventually my mind just sort of went out of control—every situation I thought of just got progressively worse. It's not completely my fault, you know. I mean, you did once—"
"That was a long time ago," Takeru interjected flatly, cutting Yamato off before he could finish the sentence. His face had instantly lost its amused look into seriousness, and there was a flash of anger in his eyes, just for a bare moment, which gave Yamato a slight pause wondering over what Takeru's thoughts were. His memory brought back that day again, but he pushed it away, knowing the choice his brother had made that day and exactly what it had cost him. After all, Yamato had made a choice then as well.
Finally, Yamato slowly said, "Yeah." There was another silent pause until Yamato said, "Sorry about just assuming all that stuff."
"Well, you know, technically, I did sleep with Hikari," Takeru said honestly and almost dazily. But almost immediately after, he sort of gasped and his eyes widened as if he had surprised himself by saying that—as if he hadn't meant to say it at all.
Shocked, Yamato narrowed his eyes at his brother as he was now truly and utterly confused by their whole conversation—he was pretty sure that he was now missing something, the little nugget that would make this whole situation finally make sense. "But you just said…" Yamato started to say before Takeru cut him off with a way of his hand.
"That's not what I meant," Takeru said hastily and almost panicked in a breathless sort of voice. "We sleep at each other's places all the time; you know that. And to be honest, we usually sleep in the same bed most of the time when we do."
"You've slept in the same bed as Hikari," Yamato repeated flatly, but he was, in fact, truly surprised. He'd known they stayed at each other's apartments—even Taichi (who was usually very extremely over-protective of his little sister) let that go like it was nothing (though he'd been rather strangely evasive with him when Yamato had tried to gauge how he felt about it)—but he assumed (as he pretty much thought the rest of their friends had) that there had definitely just been some couch crashing and not actually sleeping in the same bed.
"Yeah," Takeru said with a slight blush flushing across his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's kind of a long story that started with a bad dream and just kind of spiraled down from there. But don't tell Taichi," he finished with a flash of panic in his eyes.
"That's for sure," Yamato said with a smirk. Memories of the baseball bat Taichi had owned back when they were in high school flashed across his mind and he couldn't help but smile as he thought about his best friend. Yamato rubbed his chin and asked, "So, what did happen last night and why didn't you answer any of my texts and calls?"
"Like I said before—excellent question," Takeru said brightly—completely not answering the question. Yamato was unsure what he should take from that, but before he could ask Takeru to clarify, his brother said, "If I could, I'm absolutely certain that I would tell you, but we don't actually remember much of what happened after dinner."
"You don't…remember?" Yamato repeated with his eyes widening in shock. "Not anything?"
"Nope," Takeru said—far too cheerfully Yamato thought for someone who was missing at least a good twenty hours of his life. But then again, his brother had always been optimistic—sometimes almost exasperatingly so. "After Daisuke gave me and Hikari what I now seriously doubt was orange juice last night, it all gets a little fuzzy." His lip curled in thought and he added, "I seem to somewhat recall being in a park for some reason but that's about it." He gave Yamato a smile and asked, "Why don't you tell me what you know?"
Yamato clenched his jaw and remembered watching Daisuke give them those drinks and turning away with a disturbingly mischievous smile. He should have known then that something was wrong—anything that had Daisuke looking like that was sure to turn south very quickly. But as it had been Miyako's wedding (Ken was there, but there was no doubt in Yamato's mind that it was her wedding), he hadn't wanted to cause a scene and chance actually ruining the whole affair. Miyako could be almost as scary as an angry Sora when she was upset—and twice as likely to throw things.
He frowned in thought as he remembered what happened the night before. Finally he answered, "Well, I guess after the whole 'orange juice' thing, Hikari got kind of dazed and almost giddy—it was a little obvious that she was a bit more than just tipsy—but you just got kind of more serious; I didn't even realize that you had been affected that bad, but obvious you were just as bad as her if you can't remember what happened. You two left after a while into dinner, but I don't know exactly when as no one really noticed you were missing for some time. It was when Ken and Miyako left together after the reception that we all sort of noticed you guys were not actually there anymore. We all texted and called you, but you didn't answered—most of the others figured that you guys must have just gone home tired and went to sleep or something. But…I don't know…I just had a bad feeling."
Yamato leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest again as he sighed heavily and continued, "I came here looking for you, but when I couldn't find you and still couldn't contact you by phone, I raced down to Hikari's but you weren't there either. Then you sent me that text and I just—"
"Spent the whole rest of the night worried out of you mind," Takeru finished with a smile somewhere between exasperated and amused. Yamato confirmed his statement with a smirk and nod—his brother knew him all too well. Takeru's smile was apologetic again as he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."
Yamato smiled and reached out to ruffle Takeru's blond hair (almost the exact shade of his own), causing his brother to let out a protest and push his hand away. "I know," Yamato said as he relaxed his shoulders. "I guess this time I can chalk it all up to Daisuke's fault. Now, I need to find a shower and a change of clothes because I look terrible."
Takeru gave him a smirk of his own as he said bluntly, "Yeah, you do." Yamato reached out to wrestle with his brother's hair again, this time in mock irritation, but Takeru stepped away before he could reach him. Takeru dodged around him and called out behind him, "You can use my bathroom. I'm sure I could find you something to wear."
"Thanks, Takeru," he said. Takeru flashed him a smile before disappearing into his bedroom. Yamato heard the sound of drawers opening and closing and heaved a sigh of relief as he found his way back into the bathroom to take that much needed shower. It seemed like everything was fine and there was nothing to worry about—his brother looked completely normal. Wondering what exactly his brother once had to tell him at midnight and no longer remembered—and hoping it wasn't running around the streets, spray painting the Tokyo Tower or something (as completely unlikely as that would be)—he shrugged his shoulders, now sure that it probably hadn't really been anything at all.
