1) Yamato in a drunken stupor.
2) Taichi facing an awkward problem.
(Awkward is a fun word to say, but a not-so-fun word to spell.)
3) Both boys in a compromising situation.
Fly Away From Here
Chapter 5
Yamato fled from Koushiro and Taichi
soon after they escaped from the restaurant, too confused by what had happened
in the bathroom to even think up an excuse for being so rude. The words
of the other patrons in the restaurant burned his ears all during his long
walk home. He moved quickly, not dawdling as he usually did, and his guitar
case hit his rump with every other step he took.
Stupid Taichi! Stupid me!
I can't believe I've been acting like such an idiot. Did I really think
he'd never notice I've been avoiding him during the day and practically
stalking him at night? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
He angrily kicked a pebble out of
his way. After a few more blocks, Yamato had reached his own apartment
building, and was soon safe in his home. Masaharu wasn't there, which made
his son deliriously happy. The gangly teenager with perfect hair, a perfect
smile, perfect eyes, and a completely imperfect life dropped his
guitar off in his room and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He pulled
off his school blazer on the way, draping it over the back of a chair at
the kitchen table. Flicking on the light, Yamato sighed, surveying his
choices of food.
Rice. Bread with funky blue spots.
An apple. More rice. Great. This place comes with a built-in dieting plan.
Running his fingers through his hair and mussing it up, Yamato crossed
the floor to the refridgerator. He pulled it open, unsurprised to find
two six-packs of beer on the top shelf, right next to an empty carton of
expired milk. Good old reliable dad. Never forgets to do the grocery
shopping at the liquor store. Knowing that his father wouldn't approve,
but beyond caring, he snatched one of the six-packs out and closed the
fridge door with his foot as he walked towards the living room.
Yamato threw himself down on the
couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air. He pulled a can out of the
plastic holding and set the remaining five on the couch beside him. He
grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flipping through the channels
for two hours, drinking until all six beers had washed down his shame and
self-loathing.
Stupid me.
* * *
A knocking at the door woke Yamato
up about eleven o'clock. He opened his eyes slowly, then reached a hand
up to rub them into focus. His temple was pounding in time with the rapping
on the wood, his mouth had a distinctly furry taste to it, his neck hurt
from sleeping with it bent at an odd angle, and he seemed unable to coordinate
his fingers to find his face. The television was only making matters worse,
as the insanely cheerful cast of a syndicated sitcom babbled at each other
and paused every few seconds for the manufactured audience to laugh uproarously.
It took him a few minutes to realize that the banging was at his
door and not the TV. Yamato felt around on the couch for the remote, and
he encountered three empty cans near his lap, which clinked together when
he touched them.
The events of the night came rushing
up to assault him, and Yamato moaned.
"No! It didn't ha - happen!"
he whined to himself, covering his face to block out the television screen.
"It'sh too weird to be thrue. I'm trunk! I thou - thought it all up in
my head and now I'm dreaming and Taishi doeshn't know I wanna duck 'im
shilly and . . ." He trailed off, as the knocking at his front door became
more insistent.
"Oh, schit!"
He pulled himself off the couch,
grabbing the table as it tried to block his path, and stumbled unevenly
to the door. Not looking in the eyehole, he simply pulled it wide open.
"Who'sh there? Whaddaya wa - Oh,
schit again."
Taichi stood framed in the door,
his face turned downward, his posture dejected. Yamato blinked at the darkness
in the hallway. His heart began to race and his palms were sweating.
"Hi, Yamato. Can I come in?" Taichi
looked up at him with pain in his deep brown eyes. Yamato stood dumbstruck
in the hallway, holding onto the door with both hands. Taichi shifted his
weight and rubbed the side of his face.
"I -" Yamato started, then stopped,
unsure of what to say or do.
Taichi winced as his friend's breath
hit him in the face. "Damn, man! Have you been drinking? You smell like
my dad after he's been at the bar all night!" Taichi shouldered his way
into the apartment, pulling the door out of Yamato's limp hands and pushing
it closed.
Tai continued, "Yama, I came here
to talk to you again. I know it's late, but I knew you were up, because
I saw your lights on from the street -" 'Ish he shtalking *me* now?'
Yamato thought hazily. "- and, I, uh . . . Are you okay?" Taichi stared
straight into his watery blue eyes. "Hey, take it easy. Don't cry, dude!"
Yamato shook his head to chase his
tears away. The movement cause his world to spin around crazily, and after
a moment of blackness and a muffled shout, he found himself hanging onto
Tai for balance. The brunnet was pressed up against the wall, holding his
breath, and holding his friend up by the armpits.
Woah.
"Yamato, why are you - damn, you're
not as light as you look! - doing this to yourself! It's a school
night! I had to sneak out to come over here, and I sure didn't expect to
find you like this!" Taichi exclaimed, grabbing two handfuls of the back
of Yamato's shirt and hauling him upright, exposing a fair amount of skin
in the process. Taichi half-dragged, half-carried the limp body of his
fair-haired friend into the teenager's bedroom, and threw him uncerimoniously
on the bed. "What's wrong with you! The way you're acting makes
me believe all the things everyone keeps saying about you! I don't want
to believe them!"
"Wha?" Yamato asked, groaning as
he sat up after three tries. "Wha are they shaying 'bout me? That I'm -"
"They say you're on drugs! It's been
all over the school for a couple of weeks now!" Taichi spoke quickly, obviously
agitated from the way he kept running his hands through his hair and pacing
back and forth in front of the bed. "Even the other Digidestined are wondering!
Koushiro told me today that you're 'exhibiting the classic symptoms of
substance abuse', and I'm not so dumb that I don't know what that means,
Ishida!" Taichi turned and rounded on the boy sprawled on the bed. "Dammit,
Yama! Dammit! I came here to talk to you again, and I find you like this!
What am I supposed to think?" Taichi's eyes were mysteriously wet, and
his shoulders were heaving, but whether from anger or pain, Yamato couldn't
tell.
"I'm not on drugs, Tai," he answered,
surprisingly steady, tearing his eyes off the form of the brown-haired
angel in front of him and staring at his window blinds.
"How can I believe you?" Taichi asked,
subdued, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. "Why did you get
drunk tonight, then? Why?"
Yamato took a deep breath. His head
was spinning, which made it hard to stay upright and awake, much less concentrate
enough to carry on a conversation. Every time he blinked, his eyes lost
focus, and every inch he moved made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. But,
despite his physical condition, he felt arousal stirring inside him. He
fervently hoped it didn't show.
"I got drunk tonight I'm in love."
Taichi blinked. "What? That's - that's
great! Who's the lucky girl who messed with your heart and made
you almost pass out in the hallway?" he asked sarcastically.
Yamato lowered his head, too ashamed
to look him in the eye, and too uninhibited by the beer to keep his mouth
shut.
"You."
Silence, thicker than fog, engulfed
the room. Yamato felt his throat constrict, and he couldn't fight back
the tears that began to leak from the corner of his eyes. I can't believe
I just said that! How can I face him after this? How can I face anyone!
Minutes passed, and Yamato sniffled,
rubbing his eyes and smearing snot and tears across his cheek. He didn't
dare to look up at Taichi, so he was surprised when he felt gently hands
on the his shoulders, and glanced up through his bangs to see his friend
only a short distance away, his face blotchy from his own crying.
"Go - go 'way, Tai! I don't
want your p - pity!" Yamato cried hoarsely, humilated by his own breakdown
in front of the one he'd dreamt about for years. He was stunned, then,
as the owner of the Crest of Courage carefully gathered him closer and
pressed his soft but insistent lips against the blond's.
Oh, shit. He is gay, just
like me. Or, wait! Is this pity of a different kind? Does he just want
to 'be there for me' and - Yamato's thoughts stopped as he gave up
questioning everything and kissed Taichi back, letting his heart - and
his hormones - guide him into pulling the man of his dreams closer and
opening his mouth wider. Taichi was a persistent kisser, forcing Yamato's
head to lean back and stealing the blond's breath from his mouth.
"What's going on here?" a deep male
voice said from the doorway. The two teen boys broke their kiss and looked
up at the outline of one Ishida Masaharu. Yamato was trembling as Taichi
gripped him a little bit harder.
"My turn to say 'oh, schit,' I guess,"
Taichi whispered, unsmiling.
* * *
Leelee's endnote: Annoyed with those
mini-cliffhangers at the end of every chapter? That's just the way I write.
I've been getting wonderful reviews so far, and a big thank you to all
those who take the time to bug me to keep cranking this out! ^__^
