Notes: Hi, ya'll. I've finally gotten chapter 5 up. There's no real violence in this one, just some angst on Yama's part. Some of the people in this story are a bit out of character, Daisuke especially. On a personal note, I like to think that Dai is actually a lot smarter than he lets on. Of course, that could be just me. Anyway, enough out of me. Enjoy part 5.
* * * * *
"Goodness, Yamato, what happened to your wrist?"
Now, I had originally thought that it was going to be a cinch to hide my bruise. However I'm quickly developing a great appreciation for self-abusers who can successfully hide their scars for years. I can't even go through a whole day. It never even occurred to me before that the sleeves of my green jacket ride up as often as they do.
"Nothing much, just had an unpleasant encounter with the car door this weekend. It'll heal." If I just act calm, then no one will think anything of it. It'll be just me being clumsy, strange as that sounds.
Koushiro cocks his head to the side thoughtfully. "It seems to be severely contused. Maybe you should let Jyou examine it."
"It's just a little bruise. It's not the first I've had and it probably won't be the last. It'll heal, I swear." Did I ever mention that when I get anxious I tend to repeat myself?
His gives me a dubious look. "To be perfectly honest with you, Yamato, I would hardly classify that as a 'little bruise'. It occupies nearly all of your wrist." Leave it to Koushiro to state the obvious.
I resist the urge to growl at him and instead continue reading about animal classification on the computer in front of us. "I'm quite well aware of what it looks like. I just don't want it to be made into a big deal." The calmness of my voice surprises me. It really sounds like my wrist is unimportant.
"I know, I just…" The bell rings before he can finish. With a slight sigh I pick up my books and walk out of the classroom, not bothering to look back at him.
The hall's filled with people as I walk into it. Voices are screaming at each other. Girls are giggling and guys are exchanging stories of what they did with their girlfriends last night. And I suddenly feel sick. The people around me are starting to spin, making me dizzy.
I make it to the bathroom just as my heart begins to pound in my ears. A sharp pain in my chest causes me to drop to the floor, scattering my books all around me. I'm going to puke, I know that I am. I close my eyes and wait for my stomach to spasm. It doesn't.
Sweat is pouring down my face at an alarming rate. I start to tremble as I'm suddenly overcome with the urge to dig my fingernails deep into my skin. I'm dying. The thought appears out of nowhere, and yet in my muddled mind it makes perfect sense. I'm having a heart attack. I'm dying. And so I lay on the floor, waiting patiently for death to take me into its arms and fly me away from this earth.
And then I hear the halls clear out and the voices fade. Then it all begins to disappear until all that's left is the shaking and a slight nauseous feeling. I push myself off the floor and stumble towards the mirror, silently thanking God that there wasn't someone in the bathroom to witness my breakdown.
The image in the mirror is unrecognizable, even to me. My eyes are bloodshot and my hair's messed up. I raise a shaky hand to fix it, faintly hearing the bell ring in the background.
The sink is turned on, and I reach under the nozzle to get cold water to splash on my face. I freeze as soon as my hand hits the water, my blackened wrist staring up at me.
I'm not sure why it bothers me. This isn't the first time I'm gotten a bruise from my father. Not that long ago, my chest was covered in grayish blue blotches. Blotches that you never looked at. That's right. I avoided looking at them. I never glanced down when I had no shirt on. I couldn't stand to. It made me feel sick to my stomach. But now my wrist is hurt, a part of my body that can't be hidden from myself. Guess you'll have to look at it now.
Splashing my face suddenly forgotten, I gather my books back up and begin to make my way towards the nurse's office. I don't feel stable enough to go to class now.
The moment I take my first step out of the bathroom, I am knocked back onto the floor. I get ready to glare over at the cause of my accident before I see who it is. Taichi…
"Umm…hi," I say as I pick up my books yet again. I should just let them stay there and kick 'em to the nurse's office.
"Hi," he replies, and starts to help me. "I'm sorry, Yama. I didn't see you coming out." I shake my head, still feeling light-headed, and move to take my Biology book from him. "Woah, what the hell happened to your arm?"
Goddamn school uniform. "I slammed my wrist in a car door the other day. It's no big deal." Why do I get this sense of déjà vu?
Taichi looks concerned, and for a second I consider telling him what actually happened. Then I decide against it. "Maybe you should get it checked out. I've never seen a bruise that color before. Jesus, it's black."
Suddenly my nausea comes back with a vengeance. I mumble something about going to the nurse now and start to leave, feeling his eyes on my back the whole way.
* * * * *
"So then, Michael told me that he thought the teddy bear was really cute. But it was purple! How can it be cute if it's not pink? So I told him that if he didn't exchange it that very day that I would go to Sarah's party with Jeremy. And do you know what the stupid jerk did? He left and then showed up at the party with Melissa! That little slut! How could he? I mean, that is just…."
Mimi's life in America is a continuous soap opera. Someone is always breaking up with someone or cheating on them with their dog or something. And of course she needs someone to tell it to, so I'm that lucky someone.
"I'm sorry…" I start, intent on telling her that I had to go.
"Oh, you haven't even heard the worst part yet. At the party…."
I decide to tune her out. Whatever happened at the party could stay a mystery to me. I don't particularly mind not knowing what Michael did to Mimi this time.
Those two have a strange relationship. Michael is hopelessly in love with her, and every attempt to show her that is thrown back in his face. And yet I'm pretty sure that she feels the same way. She just doesn't realize it.
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. Thank God, a distraction. "I'm sorry, Mimi, someone's at the door. I have to go. Bye." I hang up before she can reply.
I shuffle over to the door and open it. "Hey squirt," I greet my little brother.
"Hi Yamato. Guess what." He steps inside the apartment and shuts the door. "I went to Kari's this afternoon and asked her if she wanted to go to a movie this weekend. And she said yes." By now he's beaming.
I let out a small laugh at his giddiness and push my slight jealously to the side. "That's great, squirt! In fact, let's celebrate. C'mon." And with that, the two of us walk out of the apartment.
* * * * *
"So," Takeru says as he takes a bite of ice cream, "how is the whole Taichi situation?"
I sigh. "Not too good. We got in a fight the other day because he said that I was avoiding him."
"Were you?"
"Well, yeah I guess I was. But I wasn't going to tell him why. So he got mad at me and said all this stuff about our friendship. Then I said that maybe we weren't friends anymore. And he said that maybe we weren't either. But then yesterday I ran into him in the hall and he acted like nothing ever happened."
Takeru gives me a look. "Yamato, you've got to stop doing this to yourself. You should just tell him how you feel. That's exactly what you told me to do, and look how it turned out."
"That was different," I reason.
"How? How is me and Kari different than you and Taichi?"
"Kari's a girl. Taichi's a guy. It's a hell of a lot different. I'm gay, you're not."
He groans. "Oh no, not this again. It doesn't matter that you're gay. I mean, he may not feel the same way but at least you'll have gotten it off your chest. Then you'll feel better."
"Not if he condemns me to hell. Then I won't feel better."
"Taichi is not going to condemn you to hell. Both you and I know that he's not like that. You guys are too close of friends to let that come between you."
He doesn't understand. He's trying, but he doesn't understand. And hopefully he never will. "Let's just drop it. All right? I don't feel like talking about it anymore."
"Okay," he says reluctantly. And we spend the rest of the night in complete silence.
* * * * *
"Hey, Blue Eyes."
"Hey, Dai." I have to admit that I'm a little surprised to see the goggle-headed boy leaning on my doorjamb.
"Can I come in?"
I step aside and motion for him to step inside. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
He looks flustered. "Well, I just wanted to tell you that I got the grade on my song that you saw today. And I was going to call and tell you, but….well…you know."
I don't, but I pretend that I know anyway and nod. "So, what'd you get?"
Daisuke gives me a smile that reminds me faintly of the one Takeru gave me the other night. "An A."
"What did I tell ya?" I grin widely, once again feeling proud of him. "You're a natural, I swear. You're going to have to write my band a song." I push a lock of hair out of my face.
"What happened to your wrist?" Mother of all…
"Just slammed it in the car door. It's no big deal." I'm going to get a sign that says 'Slammed my wrist in a car door' and paste it on my forehead.
"Hmm." Daisuke reaches over and takes my arm, holding it up so that he can examine it. I'm starting to feel excessively self- conscious. "Kinda funny how you slammed it in a door, and yet it's bruised all the way around your wrist." He runs a finger in a circle around it as if to emphasis his point.
"Yeah," I agree, feeling faint. "Kinda funny." I pull my arm back.
"Well," he says as he turns around. "I guess I'd better go." He gives me a concerned look over his shoulder. "See ya 'round, Blue Eyes."
"Yeah. See ya, Dai." I shut the door behind him. He knows. Well, he may not know exactly. But he does know that something's wrong.
But why do I care? Shouldn't I be happy that he sees it? I should, but yet I'm not. I don't want anyone to know that I, Ishida Yamato, let my father beat the shit out of me.
I glance down at my wrist and wonder how long I can keep this up. And then as I move my eyes to the spot that Daisuke stood only seconds before, I notice idly that my wrist has begun to tingle.