Authors note: Hello! Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad you guys like the story so far but I thought I'd better clear something up before I go further.

This story is set in Odaiba, Japan. I know it might not seem that way, but as the fic goes on I will try my best to capture what Odaiba must really be like.

I use the character's original Japanese names. Taichi and Yamato may be referred to as Tai and Matt here and there but those are treated merely as nicknames and not to be confused as their actual full names.

This story is rated T as there is swearing and mild sexual content and I do not expect the rating to change at this point.

Thanks for reading!


Two: Sora.

In my life, things always seemed to escalate very quickly and without warning.

For example, I only tagged along when my friends tried out for the tennis team. What's the harm? I thought. I'd always liked tennis, even though I never really thought about playing it seriously. I wasn't expecting anything out of it - In fact, I forgot about it the next day. I wasn't reminded of the whole ordeal until I had to comfort my friends for their rejection and slowly tell them about the acceptance letter that came in the mail for me. Before I even knew what was happening, I was the team leader and we were in favor to win nationals this year.

Then, there was my parent's divorce. One day they were renewing their vows on a cruise for their nineteenth anniversary and before I knew it, the next they were throwing plates at each other in the kitchen and ruing the day they met one another. It went on like that for a while. My father would spend the night on the couch, come home from work, have yet another explosive fight with my mother, break things and end up on the couch again. It went on and on again until they sat me down one evening and told me that it just couldn't work out anymore - that they tried, but it couldn't. I was confused. Not because they were divorcing, I knew that was inevitable. I was confused because they genuinely seemed to think that they had tried to make it work. Did throwing expensive china at each other all night constitute as an attempt to fix a damaged relationship nowadays?

And of course, how could I not mention my own relationship? I have never seen a relationship move as fast as mine has. It started off as simple, playful flirtation
You look nice today, I like your hair.
Have you been working out? Look at those biceps.
I didn't expect you to be here, but I'm really glad that you are.
Until it turned into him asking me to show up at his concert, give him a little support. After the concert, he would tell me that the entire time he was singing, the only face he saw in the crowd was mine. It was true, he wasn't lying or trying to smooth talk. Our eyes were indeed locked for a majority of the show. He dedicated my favorite song of his to a friend in the crowd and winked at me. A part of me lit up. Finally. I'd always had a crush on him, a tiny one hidden behind years of denial, years of being the friend he'd come to whenever he had trouble with his previous girlfriends. Finally, the hopes I had always obscurely had for us would be realized.
However, in the back of my head, a little whisper of a thought could not be ignored. A warning from my subconsciousness that this was a bad idea. A warning that would always be present, no matter what. When we were snuggled up in his bed, me in his arms, his hands through my red hair, telling me how much he loved the almond color of my eyes. When he drove me home after our third date, a song that would soon become ours softly playing on the radio, my heart beating along to the tune, his hands in mine while he asked me if we could make it official. The way his lips would contagiously spread into a smile when I kissed him and he would whisper I love you, I'd always loved you into my mouth. It was present throughout it all. The whisper was there. This will go bad, and it will happen very soon.
I was right, in a sense. The honeymoon days ended very soon. Some days were good. He would smile and I would still kiss the dimple in his chin. On other days, the stolen kisses would turn into snide remarks. His hand on the small of my back while we walked down the corridor would turn into him punching any guy that would try to buy me a drink and yelling she's mine. His playful jealousy would turn into If you wear that, I'm not going out with you tonight.
At first I thought it was adorable. He loved me so much he didn't want anyone else to even glance in my direction. He wanted only his eyes to search my body. Then it became possessive. I belonged to him. It wasn't cute anymore. I was offended. I felt like every time I even talked to another guy about the most innocent of subjects, I was betraying him in some way.

And yet, I never left. I never left because I knew that after a bad day, a beautiful one would come. After a fight, I would be awoken at 4am by rocks being thrown at my window and a stereo over his shoulder with our song blaring as loud as it could go. A grin on his face as he yelled an apology, not caring about the fact that he woke my entire neighborhood and almost all of my neighbors were yelling profanities out their windows. I could be so mad at him, I could call him an asshole, a loser, a liar and slap him and tell him to never speak to me again and half an hour later he would be next to me, begging for my forgiveness, telling me that it was his fault even if it was mine, telling me that he could lose anything in the world and he'd be okay as long as he had me.

I stayed because I loved him, because I didn't really even want anyone to glance at me, I didn't want anyone to think I looked good, I didn't want to innocently flirt at bars, I didn't want anyone else. I wanted his eyes on me. I wanted his mouth exploring my body. I wanted his hands in my hair.

I wanted him and only him.


As I pulled out of the school parking lot, I had one thing on my mind.

It was my turn to apologize. Finally, it was on me this time. Every single time we would mess up, it would always be him showing up with the flowers. This time, there were no rocks hitting my window at 4am. There was radio silence. He hadn't even showed up at school. I knew that if I wanted to save us, I had to swallow my pride and show up.

So I drove the familiar path to his house, trying to figure out what in the world I would say once I was there. He lived with his father, a well known news anchor, in the biggest house in the neighborhood. He was wealthy, everyone knew that. Partly because of his father's big paycheck and partly because of his band's own success. He was the front-man of The Wolves. They started off as just an after school past time and now they were in the process of writing their first album. He was very proud of it, but he never allowed himself to get caught up in the moment. He'd told me once, while he was drunk and trying to apologize for a wrong he had done me, that he'd always had issues with accepting good things that came to him and he always cited his mother leaving as the reason why. As a result, he was cautious with being too optimistic about his band's future.

I pulled into his driveway and stopped my car. I leaned back in my leather seat and sighed as I looked upwards at his house. Three stories, five bedrooms, six bathrooms, a spacious kitchen, decorated intricately by a big name in interior design and taken care of by various forms of help from gardeners to cooks - all for two men, a father who is barley ever home and a son who doesn't like to be home. Matt practically lived more than part time with his best friend, Tai. He even had a pull up couch installed in Tai's room after he got tired of being kicked in his sleep by a star soccer player. He'd never admit it, but he didn't like being alone. He didn't like coming home to an empty house, he hated only having the help to fraternize with, only having him and his thoughts in the dead of the night as company. His father was constantly away on business, I'd be surprised if he even knew that his son was in a band. Hell, I'd be surprised if he came home one night and even noticed that his son was no where to be found.

I quickly pulled myself out of my car before I could realize what I was doing and back out. After I locked the doors, I stuffed my keys deep into my pockets and headed for the front door. It was unlocked, as I had expected. He always kept it unlocked in case his father showed up. He didn't want to have to open the door for him.

I headed inside and tried to be careful walking as I didn't want my shoes's click-clacks on the ceramic to alert him of my presence. Quietly, I made my way upstairs.

Third floor, three doors down. I knew his room by heart. After all, I spent alot of my time in there. In fact, most of the time that he even spent here I was with him. I gulped and knocked. Here we are, no turning back. I had to do what I had to do.

It wasn't long before he opened the door and I had to catch my breath. His almost white blonde hair was a mess, pointing in all directions and tangled up as if he had glued his hair strands together. His bright blue eyes were framed with black bags and red, irritated skin. Not only under his eyes, even. The red blotches were all over his face, under his freckles, on his chin, evidence of last night's many, many drinks. He was shirtless, only wearing a necklace with his band's insignia that he never took off. He wore nothing else but black sweatpants that held on for dear life underneath his defined hip bones.

"Well, this is a surprise." He said, leaning on his door frame and looking at me from head to toe. I wasn't dressed special, per se. I was wearing my favorite boyfriend jeans, a baby blue basic tee, my black leather jacket and high tops. Suddenly I was very aware of his eyes and where they were. Focus, Sora. For heaven's sake. You have one job you came here to do.

"A pleasant one?" I asked, leaning my head and biting my lip.

"I just wasn't expecting you." He smiled, flashing his chin dimple that was actually covered in red blotches. "But then again, I never am."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I crossed my arms and knit my eyebrows in an attempt to change the subject and try to avoid having to apologize.

"Nothing. Anyway, I assume you came here to say something?" He tapped the door frame and was obviously not going to invite me inside until I said what he wanted to hear.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Matt," Wrapping my arms around myself, I looked up into his eyes and tried to emulate the sincerity that I genuinely felt. "I never should have freaked out like I did. I know you, I know your heart. I know you love me, I know you would never mean to hurt me. Especially not with her, that purple haired short bitch."

He let out a laugh, throwing his head back and returning my gaze. "Go on."

"Well, I couldn't sleep all night. I couldn't focus at school all day because I was too busy worrying that you were pissed at me and wondering why you skipped out on school. I'm here to say, to tell you, to let you know, that I am absolutely, genuinely, very so-"

He cut me off by grabbing my hips and pulling me towards him, smashing his lips against mine before the god damn word could come out of my mouth. He ran his hands up my back slowly as he kissed me before settling one in my hair and the other on my neck, pulling my head in closer. We kissed and for a moment, any animosity I had felt seemed to evaporate inside of me. So simple, just like that.

He pulled away and rested his forehead to mine, his nose on the tip of my own, his blue eyes looking into my brown ones. "I never want you to apologize to me. You could do the worst things to me, you could call me the worst names and tell me that you hated me, and I would never believe you. Because I know the truth. I know you love me. I never need reassurance. Do you hear me?" He whispered, caressing my hair and pecking me on the lips.

I nodded. It was always like this. It was like he had a switch that he could turn on and off as he pleased. Flip it on and I hate him, he's the worst thing that ever happened to me, the worst person in my life and I regret ever knowing him. I'd curse him all night, I'd call him just to tell him I wanted him to stay away from me. Then, in just one moment, he would reverse it all and flip the switch off. It would all disappear, in a second. I would be so astonished how I could go from such a high level of resentment to absolutely in love with him as I had been before anything had happened. It was as if I was stuck in some sick magic trick with him as the magician and me as the subject, a trick that he never got tired of playing.

"Alright then," He smiled. "Come on, come inside. It's time for make up sex."

"And if I say no?" I giggled, pulling away and pretending to leave his room.

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I screamed and laughed at the same time, kicking my feet and crying at him to let me down. "Don't worry, you'll change your mind in a second. I promise." He said, before closing the door behind him and heading over to the bed.

I didn't expect you to be here, but I'm really glad that you are.