This chapter isn't the reason this
fanfic is rated NC17, but don't worry, fellow perverts, the smut cometh
eventually.
And a big thank you to those who
took the time to review. It means a lot to me! Comments keep me writing!
^__^
Fly Away From Here
Chapter 2
The next morning, Yamato woke up
late. He'd forgotten to set his alarm clock. The insistent ringing of the
phone pulled him out of his sleep. He glanced blearily at the clock beside
his bed.
"Shit!" he cried. "I'm two hours
late!"
Yamato jumped up, wincing as his
tired muscles complained. He reached the phone on his desk and picked it
up, just as the person on the other end of the line hung up.
Great. That was probably my school,
he thought. I wasn't supposed to miss any more classes. I hope I'm not
in too much trouble. He quickly showered and dressed, deciding that
getting himself off under the spray of the water would make him even later.
He applied gel to his hair, brushed it and slicked it down in a way that
brought out the shape of his face and the color of his eyes - or so he'd
been told by Sora.
He grabbed an apple from the fridge
and slung his guitar case over his shoulder. He stuck the apple in his
mouth and picked up his keys before he pulled on his shoes and left the
apartment.
Once he reached the street, Yamato
broke into a brisk walk. If he'd woken up when he was supposed to, he could
have caught a bus to school, but he had no idea what the city bus schedule
was for that time of day. Eating the apple as he walked, Yamato berated
himself for being too 'preoccupied' to set his alarm clock the night before.
Idiot. Freak. Loser. The names
came easily. Staying out all night, watching his window, hoping he'd
somehow magically pull back the curtains and see you standing in
the street. Yamato paused for traffic at an intersection. A middle-aged
man in a business suit stopped beside him, talking rapidly on a cell phone.
It's bad enough I can't control
my body, but I have no control over my own actions any more. He finished
chomping on the apple just as the crosswalk light turned green. He resumed
his brisk walk to school, his mind continuing in circles the rest of the
way there.
Yamato ducked into the music room
to drop off his guitar for safe-keeping during the school day. There were
several small groups of kids practicing for orchestra class, but they didn't
even look his way when he opened the door. He was about to turn around
to go to his locker when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.
"Mr. Ishida?" a deep voice said gravely.
"We need to talk."
Yamato turned and looked up into
the eyes of his vice principal. He swallowed, turning white, and nodded.
"Come to my office." Yamato paled
a bit more and meekly followed the older man through the school.
After school, Yamato walked slowly
to the warehouse district where his band practiced every day. His mind
wasn't on the chords he played or the words he sang, though - he was desperately
trying to devise a way to keep his father in the dark about his problems
at school. Yamato had missed more days than was allowed, and he had more
tardies and unexcused absences than any other student. The vice principal
was going to send a letter home to his father.
"Hey, man! Earth to blondie!" the
drummer was calling. The rest of the band was laughing. Yamato blinked
and looked up.
"Hey, what is it guys? Why'd you
stop playing?" he asked, tucking a stray hair behind his left ear.
"We stopped playing five minutes
ago, dude, but you kept going."
"No offense, Yamato, but you look
like shit. Do you sleep any more?"
"Your playing hasn't been that great,
either. After all those times you rode us to practice more, maybe
you should take your own advice!"
Yamato felt a ball of cold fear growing
in his stomach. What's wrong with me? Out loud, he said, "You're
right. I'm pretty tired, guys. I think I'll go home and practice on my
own tonight. Why don't we just take a couple days off and meet back here
on Monday?" The keyboard player mouthed the word 'yes' and instantly began
packing up his instrument.
"Cool. I could use a break."
"Me, too, man. My girlfriend's been
bugging me to take her to that new Jackie Chan movie."
Yamato let a breath of air out that
he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. They just think I'm tired.
They don't know why. He watched as they gathered up their equipment
and left, chatting about girls and music. The drummer turned and waved.
Yama absently raised his own hand in a mock salute. They don't care
why, either. They want to be big someday, just like I do, but they imagine
screaming girl groupies, while I envision pretty young boys chasing after
me. He sighed and put his guitar in his case, lovingly caressing the
strings before he stuck his pick between two of them.
Even if right now there's only
one boy I want more than anyone else. Yamato's pants felt tight as
he pictured the face of his secret love bending close to his for a passionate
kiss. He shook his head, looking around at the shadows in the empty warehouse.
He repressed a sudden shiver and quickly locked up and left. The place
was beginning to give him the creeps.
Yamato walked slowly home along the
river, watching the sun set over the water and wishing he had someone to
watch it with him. Night gradually descended upon the city, but his steps
never quickened, despite the chill in the air. Yama simply stuck his hands
in his pockets and tucked his face down into his collar. He walked past
businessmen hailing taxis, women leading young children by grubby little
hands, and smiling, happy couples. It was the last group that affected
him the most. He would stare after a few of them for a while, imagining
himself walking at night, holding hands with the one he loved, without
a care in the world.
He stopped when he realized he'd
come to his destination. The apartment building loomed up in front of him.
Yamato craned his neck up to a familiar fourth floor balcony window. There
was a light on inside. He strained his eyes, hoping to see a shadow move
behind the curtains, but it just wasn't his night. Just a few moments after
he arrived, the room went dark. Yama sighed in defeat. He might not
even be home. He might have a girlfriend. I barely see him any more - how
would I find out things like that?
Turning his thoughts to solving his
problems at school, Yamato didn't hear the approaching footsteps until
it was too late.
