Notes: Hello, people. Wow, I got this out quickly didn't I? I had a bit of inspiration and a lot of free time. I even have about half of the next part done, so it shouldn't take too long. This chapter's a bit depressing. Yes, there is some violence, amongst other sad things that shall remain nameless. I was afraid that this chapter would be a little cliché as far as Matt fics go (you'll see what I mean). But then I figured what the heck? It's got my own personal ring to it.
Anyway, enjoy chapter 7. And let me know what you think.
* * * * *
"…And then I kissed him. I mean…what was I thinking? And he just stood there with his eyes wide open, not responding, but not pushing away either. And when I pulled back and told him that I loved him, he just stared at me and then he said that he had to go and ran off. I can't believe that I did that. How could I be so stupid?"
"You're not stupid," my brother says, running his fingers through my hair. The two of us have been like this for a while now, me crying in his arms with him making his best attempts at comforting me. "I personally think it was sort of romantic," he continues.
"Tai didn't," I respond quietly.
Takeru sighs into my hair. "Yeah, well Tai's a jerk. He wouldn't know romance if it took a huge chunk out of his testicles, chewed them up for a bit, and then spit them back out."
"Oh, stop it. I don't blame him. If I was him, I would've done the same thing. Of course, I probably would've done it after I kicked my ass."
"Why do you think that everyone is going to beat you up because you're gay? They won't. I guarantee it. Besides, if you were him you wouldn't have run away. You would have stood there and listened to what you had to say. And Taichi was a jerk for not doing that."
I pause, considering the situation. "He had a lot on his mind. Maybe he had to think it through or something," I say a bit optimistically. Fat chance, but it could happen.
"Why are you defending him?" Takeru asks angrily as he pushes himself away from me. "The man has ripped your heart from your chest and stomped it into the ground. And yet, you're defending him."
"I don't know," I admit, leaning back against the couch cushion. "I just…I can't help it. I think I'll defend him 'til the day I die."
He stares at me for a while. "I guess that what happens when you fall in love."
"I guess." My voice cracks. Man, I sound pathetic. I probably look pathetic too. My eyes are probably puffy and bloodshot. And my hair is probably sticking up in all directions. I probably look like Taichi….
Taichi…hmm…used to be such a beautiful name to me. It's still a beautiful name. Now it just has a bittersweet ring to it. Takeru's right. I should be angry with him. I should hate him with a passion. So why don't I? Good question.
"So why don't you hate him?"
"What?" Why, I never realized my little brother has ESP.
He shrugs. "It seems like a reasonable question. Why don't you hate him?"
"Because I'm in love with him. You said so yourself."
"When did I say that? I said that you defend him because you love him. I didn't say a single thing about hating him," he pauses for a second to study me, then continues. "You can hate someone that you love. In fact, hate is based on love. You have to love someone before you can hate them. I read it in one of Mom's books."
"You're not making any sense, Take." I honestly don't even think he understands what he's trying to tell me.
"I'm just telling you that love is not an excuse for everything that comes up in life."
"I know that," I snap at him. "I'm not using it as an excuse."
Takeru sighs slightly, and I know that I've annoyed him. "Nevermind. Forget I said anything. Think of Taichi however you want to think of him."
Oh, now I feel bad. "Look, I'm sorry. I just don't understand what you're getting at."
"Of course you don't," he smiles wryly, "you're as good as blind." Another sigh escapes his lips. This time it's more of a sad one. "You better go. Dad'll be worried."
"No, he won't." I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "He's never home."
"Well, he's home tonight. He called looking for you just before you got here. I told him I'd send you home if I saw you."
Stay calm, Ishida. Don't let Takeru see you sweat. "I guess I'd better go then." I move to let myself out.
"Bye, Yamato," my brother says. Then, almost as an afterthought, "Tai's not perfect, you know."
"To me, he is." Cheesy, I know. But he is.
"An image," he replies. "You're in love with an image."
I choose to ignore his remark. "Goodbye, squirt. And thanks for listening to me."
Takeru shrugs. "What're brothers for?" He made no attempt to hide the worried look on his face.
* * * * *
"Where have you been?"
Ishida Yamato, untouched and alive. "Here and there, nowhere in particular."
My father's gaze is unwavering. "And why exactly didn't I know about you going 'here and there'?"
I laugh dryly. "You're never home. What's the point of letting you know where I'm going? You don't care. You just want some reason to kick my ass." Where is my attitude coming from? He's going to kill me. Untouched and alive.
"Watch your language, boy. I have no tolerance right now." He never has any tolerance, and I consider pointing it out to him but decide against it. "I want you to…"
"You always want me to do something. Well, you know what? I…" Before I can finish my sentence, however, I'm slammed against the floor.
"Didn't I tell you not to interrupt me when I'm talking to you?"
Ishida Yamato, untouched and alive.
I want to respond, defend myself or something. And yet, the only thing I can manage is a sharp yelp as his foot comes in contact with my stomach.
* * * * *
It hurts. With every single step I take, it hurts. My stomach is bruised. Not quite like my wrist though. My stomach isn't just one color. It's a multitude of colors, ranging from reds and blues to blacks, browns, and grays. My body is now a work of art. It hurts more than my wrist too. My wrist merely ached for a day or so and then it was over. But my stomach aches, stings, throbs, and burns all at once.
And of course, people continually bumping into me in this godforsaken hallway don't help much either. I hate this school. All these nameless people…oh shit.
Red alert. Big brown bush, ten o'clock.
Taichi…well what should I do? I should just walk away, pretend I didn't see him. I start to turn around. No, I think, I want to talk to him.
"Hello, Taichi," I say soberly.
He turns to me, an expressionless look on his face. "Hello, Yamato."
Yamato? I can't remember the last time he called me that. It's always 'Yama'. "Tai, I want to talk about what happened yesterday."
He shakes his head and begins to walk away. "There's nothing to talk about." I grab his arm. "Don't touch me." His voice is dangerously quiet, nothing like it normally is.
But I decide to ignore it. "There's a lot to talk about."
"No, there's not," he repeats. He sounds like a broken record. "I have to go. I have class." And with that, he starts to move away from me.
"Taichi…" This is not going how I expected. He's not supposed to be so cold. He's supposed to be angry or disgusted or something, anything other than this.
"Leave me alone."
That's it. Without so much as a sound I pounce on him and knock him to the floor. I hear his head hit the floor with a loud smack. "That is for lecturing me on friendship." I raise my fist and bring it down. "That is for walking away from me." I dig my knee into his groin. "And that is for making me feel like shit."
And I push myself off of him. Taichi stares at me in shock. He never expected me to do it. Hell, neither did I. And now I feel kinda proud that I did.
But the shock's starting to fade, leaving a look of hurt on his face. Suddenly I'm not so proud anymore. People around us move over to him and check to see if he's injured. But he doesn't even acknowledge them, just stares at me.
I can't handle this. As I turn away from him, a thought pops into my head. That's the same thing my dad does to me. I'm becoming my dad.
* * * * *
"Stupid guitar!" I scream as one of the strings breaks. With shaking hands, I reach over to pull out a new one.
I'm loosing it. I'm positive of it. I haven't stopped shaking since the fight with Tai. I'm sure I'm going to give myself another panic attack if I don't calm down.
Am I really becoming my dad? I can't stop thinking about it. I hurt Taichi, just like my father hurts me. But that doesn't mean I'm turning into him, does it? I mean Tai made me angry. But then again I made my dad angry.
I can't restring my guitar. I'm shaking too much. So I just set the string on the ground and stare at it. Oh, what was it that song said about guitar strings? He hung himself with a guitar string. Yeah, that's it.
Hmm. Hung himself with a guitar string? So he killed himself. Well, that certainly sounds appealing.
After all, my life isn't getting any better.
I pick up the string again and tug on both ends. No, I don't think it would hold. I mean, I broke my other string just running my fingers across it. No, I need something strong and solid. And sharp…
The broken glass on my floor glints at me. I still haven't cleaned that up. How did it happen anyway? Oh, I don't even remember. It was so long ago.
I reach over, pick up the biggest piece, and position it over the vein in my right arm. One quick swipe and it'll be over with. Boy, does this feel familiar.
I've been in this position countless times before. Suicidal impulses seem to appear out of nowhere quite often. And every time I manage to convince myself to live, to go on. Yeah, you convinced yourself that Taichi would want you to live. But he doesn't anymore, does he? No, I'm all alone.
The glass in my hand stares up at me, nearly begging me to lodge it in my wrist. Won't it hurt? No, you know what they say. Suicide is painless.
But death is forever. Do I really want to die? The better question is do you want to live? No, I don't.
Without another thought, I slam the sharp glass into my skin. Almost immediately blood starts spurting out in alarming amounts and long piercing pains start going throughout my whole arm.
Painless, my ass. Whoever said that should be drug out into a street and shot.
Before I even realize it I'm sobbing. Loud choking sobs that seem to echo through the apartment. Oh God…
I made a mistake. This isn't right. I don't want to die.
But I can't move my arm. It's paralyzed or something. And I feel so tired. Why am I so tired? I think I'm going to faint.
As I close my eyes, I can swear that I hear someone pounding on the front door. And then there's blackness.