Untitled Document
London
Rain
Part
Four
~Natsu~
A/N: I started
writing this on vacation in Portugal. Ahthe sun, the sea*sighs*
Now I'm back in England. Nevermind. In this part I've decided
to draw a lot from my own life and experiences soif Matt
suddenly starts to sound like an angsty teenage girlthat'll
be why. This is hard to write now. I'm busy and school and writing
don't mix.
Little note:
I'll probably refer to bits of 'Turning' for this chapter. Because
this is, essentially, a continuation of that fic. Just thought
I'd let you know that.
Now I feel like
this fic needs a quote. The London Rain lyrics are coming in the
final part, but until then I want to stick a quote in. And(deepest
apologies, Atsuko - look at what I have resorted to!)this
just seemed to fit perfectly, after I'd read over what I'd written.
It's from a poem by Simon Armitage. Enjoy!
"And I
guess that the tightness of the throat
and the tiny cascading sensation
somewhere inside us are both part of that
sense of something else. That feeling, I mean."
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It takes us
twenty minutes to find a candle. Twenty damn minutes. Almost as
soon as the lights had gone, Taichi had pulled a fat black flashlight
from one of the kitchen cupboards (what is was doing there, I
don't know). But of course, the batteries had gone dead the last
time he'd used it and he hadn't 'got around' to replacing them
yet. Obviously it was a royal pain in the ass, because it meant
that we had to go stumbling blindly around in the dark searching
in vain for something with a lightable wick, but it was also somewhat
comforting. Endearing almost. It was such a Tai-like thing to
do that it made me realise that he's really still the same person
he has always been. Still the same wild-haired kid who became
my best friend when I was eleven.
I'm rummaging
around in my room when I hear him calling me triumphantly from
the other end of the hallway. I push the door to his room and
am met by the scratch of a match and the sudden flare of a sharp
little flame as he lights the candle. It's a huge, stumpy piece
of ivory wax that looks as though it's never even seen the light
of day before.
"I knew
I had one here somewhere," He says conversationally, setting
the candle cautiously on top of a CD box on the table by his bed,
"I'm not really the candle type," he adds apologetically
as if some form of explanation is in order.
"Yeahme
neither," I answer, hovering uncertainly just inside the
doorway, my eyes automatically scanning the room, taking everything
in. Taichi's room seems to be the only place in this house that
isn't pristine and perfect. I can't help noticing how similar
it looks to his room back in university. Those good old days.
In fact, it looks as though someone has simply picked up a random
room belonging to a Japanese student, shipped it halfway round
the world and shoved it in some poor unsuspecting British house
much to the dismay of the straight-laced owners. There's, wellcrap
everywhere. Assorted items of crumpled clothing, CDs with broken
cases from being repeatedly stepped on, a remote control tosomething
and empty glasses as far as the eye can see. It's a total mess.
But with the warmth of the candlelight and the multitude of wavering
shadows being thrown across everything it looks nothing but homey
and perfect.
There's a picture
of me stuck to the edge of his mirror.
"You can
sit down, you know," Taichi's saying, perching on the edge
of the bed and shoving an impressively thick book entitled 'Business
Law - Fourth Edition', and two slightly less impressive crushed
beer cans off of a chair and on to the floor.
"Thanks,"
I mutter absently, concentrating on picking my way carefully across
the floor without falling over and/or getting something gross
stuck my foot. The chair's made of classy dark wood and looks
as out of place in this haphazard room as the crisp sheets of
the freshly-made bed. Marie's doing, no doubt.
Taichi blows
thick chestnut bangs out of his eyes, "Sorry about the mess.
It's probably notwhat you're used to now." There's
a worrying note of embarrassment in his voice as he brushes the
pillow, smoothing invisible creases.
"No, it's
fine. This is much better than those prissy hotel rooms,"
I say, wondering if I sound sincere and searching for something
to look at. I finally settle on a funny little stone sculpture
on a shelf next to his stereo. It's one of those arty jobs that
could almost be a number of things, without really being any of
them.
"Oh please.
You'd rather be here than stay at the Ritz?" Taichi asks
sceptically, swinging his legs onto the bed to make himself more
comfortable. I nod in response and he follows my gaze to the statuette.
"Alice gave me that," He says matter-of-factly.
"Yeah?
What is it?" I ask casually. Normally, I'd pretend to know
already but it doesn't really bother me if I look stupid in front
of Tai.
"It's obvious,
isn't it?" He says, folding his arms behind his head, eyes
trained to object in question.
"Not to
me."
"Well it's
ait's likeyou know awell of course
it's"
I look at him
expectantly.
"I have
no idea," he admits cheerfully, bringing a smile to my lips
instantly.
"So why
do you have it?"
"I told
you, it was gift. You think I'd actually go out and BUY a pointless
thing like that?"
"Hey, it's
been a while. Who's to say you hadn't turned into an art gourmet
since I last saw you?"
"As if,"
he mutters, eyelids drooping, the combined effect of the shadowy
light and the soft pillows beneath him making him drowsy. Funny,
when I feel so wide awake. No doubt because he's been working
his ass off all day while you've been lounging around his house
doing bugger all. "You don't change that much over two years,
Yamato."
"You've
changed," I say quietly, dropping my eyes. Look at him. He's
got a great career, a nice house, stable lifestyle, good friends.
And what do I have? A stressy manager, nowhere I can really call
home and a bottle of pills. Spot the winner.
"Yeah,
well so have you," he returns irritably, eyes fully closed
now, as if my statement had been an insult.
"How?"
I ask tentatively. I've always been paranoid of my fame turning
me into the kind of person I hate. The kind of person you see
on MTV all the time. The people who win an award and act like
they're shocked and delighted when in reality they knew they would
get it because they were sleeping with the guy at the top. 'Oh,
this is so unexpected! I'd just like to thank God and my manager
and most of all, all you little people who got me here today!'
Little people? What, because you're like ten feet tall?
Taichi sighs,
dragging his eyes open all the way to regard me thoughtfully.
He opens his mouth to speak, then seems to change his mind and
closes it again before saying, "You haven't. Not really."
He graces me with an affectionate smile before letting his eyelids
droop again, like a toy who's designed to shut down after delivering
such informative titbits.
Maybe that's
my problem. Maybe I was supposed to change, to adapt. Maybe that's
what becoming famous was all aboutand I just failed miserably.
Perhaps that's why I'm here now, sitting in Tai's room, talking
to him about nothing in particular just like when we were in high
school. I'm stuck in the past already and I'm only twenty two.
I dread to think what I'll be like when I make it to eighty. 'When',
not 'if'.
Touch wood.
In factI'm
starting to feel sleepy myself. The storm rumbles hollowly outside
the window, only as loud as the soft sound of Taichi's breathing,
which seems to rise and fall in time with the cheerful candlelight.
I can feel myself gradually sliding from reality and back to two
years ago when I used to watch Tai fall asleep every night. He
would always fall asleep first. Always. Mostly because I would
always wait for him to go first before even attempting it myself.
Just a weird security complex, I guess. I had to check he was
okay before I would go to sleep. That was how I always used to
be whenever I was sleeping in the same place as Takeru. I'd wait
until I was sure he was asleep before even closing my eyes.
And in my new
state of nostalgia I can't help but feel as if nothing's changed.
Taichi's not just my friend. This is our room, not just his. And
there's absolutely nothing wrong with me noticing how perfect
he looks when he's sleeping. Every curve and corner of his face
is accented by the heady glow of the candlelight. His chocolatey
lashes are dark against his skin and the exhausted folds of his
office shirt hang just right, the collar open and the tie long
since discarded. I can feel a familiar warmth in my chest and
I'm sure my eyes are glazing over as I move to rest my chin on
my hand.
I don't think
I could ever find a word to describe the feeling I get when I
look at him like this. It's a kind of ache that grips at your
insides. Familiar and comforting and distressing all at the same
time. It simultaneously brings me to the verge of dizzying joy
and the most profound melancholy sadness. It is every single powerful
emotion I've ever felt and all I know is that he is all I want
to know. I want to simply be absorbed into the feeling, the sensation
and forget everything else. Because if I could do that, anything
that has ever caused me trouble would disappear and everything
would be right and perfect forever. It's so overpowering it's
almost tangible. It's the high that drugs can never match.
If I'm honest,
I know that what it isis love.
But I blew that.
I had that once and I fucked everything up and now it's too late.
I chucked the best thing I'll ever be offered in favour of something
cheap and commercial and glitzy and totally devastating. What
exactly was possessing me as I signed my life away to Missy?
"Matt?"
Taichi asks suddenly and I open the eyes I hadn't realised I'd
closed.
"Mmm?"
"What happened?"
He asks almost sadly, propped up on his elbow again, looking up
at me innocently. I assume he's referring to the fact that I'd
been lost in my own thoughts forGod knows how long.
"Just thinking,"
I say, trying to dispel the feeling that's still gnawing away
inside me.
"No,"
he says, eyes flashing with despair at my ignorance. That's all
it takes for me to realise what he's actually talking about, but
I let him tell me anyway. "With us, I mean. What happened
with us?"
As I pause to
gather my disjointed thoughts, that have become even more disjointed
to realise that he was thinking the same kind of disjointed thoughts
even as I was thinking them, he laughs shallowly.
"I guess
you don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought
it up." He says with a half-frown, half-sneer that I've never
seen on his face before.
"No, it'sjust
need to" Work out what the hell the jumbled mess of
my brain is trying to say.
"You don't
have to think of something. It's okay. I know what happened."
He says and his voice is laced with resentment. But resentment
directed at himself, not at me. I can sense it, more than hear
it in his tone. If there's ever been a crack in his seemingly
flawless confidence, it's when he believes that things aren't
right because of something that he's done wrong. He hates failure
and he hates being the cause of someone else's problem.
It's not your
fault, Tai. It was me. Me being a jackass.
"I don't
know what happened," I start thoughtfully, ignoring his dismissal,
"I guess these things just happen, you know? Lives changemaybe
we're only supposed to be friends. Nothing more." As I say
that, I don't want to believe it. The thought of leaving here
and having to go back to my life in the limelight is almost too
much to bear. All I want to do right now is curl up right there,
on that bed and go to sleep in his arms until everything bad has
gone away.
He doesn't answer
me, but a sudden, ear-splitting burst of thunder takes the place
of his answer.
"Wow, would
you listen to that?" He mutters amiably, and whistles lowly
as a harsh flash of lightning momentarily drowns the gentle glow
of our candle, an effortless and practised change of subject.
"Sounds
like it's right over us." I say, my mind still stuck in the
previous conversation.
"Yeah.
Hope all my windows are closed." He says, and smirks as if
I should find that funny. Because of course, windows are so hilarious.
"Eryeah.
Hope so."
"Right,
because last time we a had a really big storm, one of those vicious
midsummer deals, all my windows were open because, well because
it was the middle of summer and 'air-conditioning' is just another
word in the dictionary over here." I'm totally impressed
by the way he can flick from one subject and mood to another so
quickly. Has he always done that or is it a skill he's acquired
in my absence?
"So, I'm
stumbling around in the middle of the night closing my window
because there's books and papers and shit everywhere and if I
get them wet then all hell will break loose. And it's totally
dark outside because the streetlights are round the other side,
and just as I'm closing the window this thing jumps through it
at me!"
I raise a sceptical
eyebrow, wondering if this is a real 'So I was' story or
a random piece of crap he's concocted with a cunning punch line
that I'll miss completely.
"Fucking
scared me shitless. Because it was wet and furry, and it hurt
where it hit my arm. So I completely freaked and yelled and tripped
over myself and smashed my head on the dresser and everything.
And you know what it was?"
"What?"
I say emotionlessly, even though part of me is slightly interested.
"It's Marie's
goddamn cat! A cat! On the second floor! How the hell did it get
up here? See, I'd only just moved in and Marie came round the
next day to ask if I'd seen her cat and that's the story of how
I met Marie!" He finishes with a triumphant flourish and
a huge trademark grin. "The cat is called Sheila," He
adds, as if he's owes it to the cat to tell me her name.
"Ohgreat.
What the hell made you come up with that?"
He shrugs cheerfully,
"Just making conversation. Hey, doesn't this so remind you
of when we were back in school?" He asks, sitting up fully
and crossing his legs to make room for me to sit on the bed beside
him, which I do. Sitting like that, surrounded by the all junk
of his room, Taichi looks fifteen again. Just a kid dressed in
a stiff, alien shirt ready to visit the relatives.
"Yeah.
Definitely." His mattress is harder than most, just like
it's always been. "But you know what we're missing?"
I ask.
"What's
that?"
"Alcohol."
I reply simply, perfectly aware that if it hadn't been for alcohol,
we would have no romantic history to look back on.
Taichi laughs.
"Could you handle it?"
"What?"
Still snickering,
he pokes me playfully in the chest. "You know you can't hold
your liquor. Couldn't drink your way out of a paper bag."
I return his smirk, feeling the mirror image twist across my lips.
"Ah, but
that's where you're wrong," I inform him wryly, "You
don't turn alcoholic without learning to drink properly."
He raises an eyebrow and I add for good measure, "You'll
see. Tomorrow night I'll drink you under the table."
"Oh will
you?"
"You bet
your ass I will."
He nods, our
bets are like a tradition. "Okay beautiful, you're on,"
he says, holding his hand out for me to shake.
I don't even
register the slight name hiccup.
"You're
so gonna lose," I say breezily and he cocks his head thoughtfully.
"Areyou
really an alcoholic?"
"Nah. It
was the drugs mostly."
"Oh."
"You can't
just turn alcoholic overnight Tai," I say in what sounds
like a casual statement, but is in fact a carefully constructed
reference to a previous unofficial bet we made over two years
ago. A bet I lost, as a matter of fact.
I've often wondered
if he remembers that night as clearly as I do. Let's see if you
can get that one, hotshot.
He looks at
me with interest. "No. I'm sure you can't. Not alcoholic,
anyway," His smile informs me that he remembers perfectly.
"You wanna
sleep in here tonight?" he suddenly asks so offhandedly that
I think I must have misheard.
"What?"
"Do you
want to stay in here?" He repeats with the kind of smile
you would grace a two-year old with.
"Why?"
I hear myself ask suspiciously, although at the same time I'm
hoping that he can come up with a decent, plausible excuse that
I don't have to kid myself into believing.
"I'mscared
of the storm?" He offers half-heartedly. No, Taichi, that's
a pathetic attempthave I taught you nothing?
"Sorry,
you'll have to do better than that," I say with a smirk.
"I"
He pauses, thinking, then seems to give up, "I like you being
here. That's all."
Despite myself,
I hesitate at that. Even though the information that I'd just
won the lottery couldn't sound more appealing to my ears. "Well"
Say yes, you sad twat! Why is my mouth ignoring my brain?
"I'm not
gonna try anything, you know," He says with a wry smile that
probably came out less reassuring than he intended it to.
"Good."
Damn. "Well in that casesure, I guess so."
* * * * * *
* * *
'I won't try
anything' he says.
And the funny
thing is, he doesn't. He doesn't even joke about doing anything
other than simply going to sleep. And now I'm lying here, the
firm mattress probably doing wonders for my back, comfortable
in the cocoon of Taichi's heavy quilt. My back is pressed against
the solid bulk of his chest and his rhythmic breath is warm on
the nape of my neck. One of his arms is in its usual place, wound
protectively around my waist and I can't remember the last time
I've felt so safe and relaxed and cared for. If it felt before
as though nothing had changed, that was nothing compared to the
state of nostalgia I'm lost in now.
The candle's
been snuffed out and all I can see is darkness. The storm's wound
down and a faint patter of rain is the only remaining noise.
My head is empty.
Free from any
kind of worries or suicidal thoughts or images of me shoving Missy
off a cliffall I can feel is blissful, warming, nothingness.
I love him so much.
His breathing
confirms the fact that he's sleeping soundly and so I allow my
eyes to close and my consciousness to slip away.
* * * * * *
* *
"FuckMatt?
Are you awake?"
Taichi's gentle
voice is barely loud enough to pierce it's way into my mind, but
I manage to register it anyway and grunt in response.
"I'm really
late so I'm going, okay? Marie's downstairs already."
My answer this
time is slightly more discernible, a muted mumble of an 'okay',
but I keep my eyes firmly closed. I'm warm and comfortable. The
world can piss off. There's laughter in his voice when he speaks
again.
"Fine,
don't make and effort to wake up to say goodbye to me, then. In
fact, you're probably better keeping those eyes shut. Your hair's
pretty scary." He grins as I crack open an eye to give him
the best withering stare you can give with one half-open eye.
He's already dressed for work and I can smell his cologne.
"See ya,"
He pats my patronisingly on the head before turning to go. He
reaches the door as I'm sitting up and rubbing at my eyes. "And
I'm expecting you to be ready to drink me under the table when
I get back." He says mock-sternly and leaves while I'm still
struggling to get my bearings.
This morning,
I sing in the shower for the first time in months.
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A/N: Right that's
that chapter done. Another chapter of London-fucking-Rain as it
has now been re-titled. ^^ No sex, I'm afraid. I've overdosed
on lemon and rainy weather always makes me feel hopelessly romantic
so I ended up with this. *shrugs* Hope you liked it anyway. Next
chapter has lots of Marie and Alice and Missy. And angst. I've
decided that things are working out too nicely so I think some
mild evilness is in order. Mwah ha ha