::coughs nervously as she stands on center stage:: For those of you who remember me, I am still alive. From those of you who don't, well, Hi!
I know, I know. I don't think I've updated anything for at least a year. I'm horrible. But I will try. I really will. I am determined to finish every fic I started! Almost. Anyway, here we go:
D/c: I hold no association with Digimon. I am making no money off of this. The only thing I have to my possession is some pocket lint and a fat lazy cat who growls at you when you don't pet her or let her out or… ::blah blah blah::
Chapter.. er, 6 7 or 8. One of those
Daisuke sighed as he looked out the classroom window. This was boring. Math, who needed it anyway? Soccer didn't involve math and he was sure that was what he wanted to be when we grew up.
"Now, if the radius…" the radi what? From there on this is what Daisuke heard
"blah blah blah, plus blah blah blah and then if you minus the blah blah blah…" you get the point. So, instead of forcing himself to try to understand something he'd never learn anyway, he simply stared out of the window dreamily, lost to the world. A bird in a tree. Hm. 'You know, which the sun right where it is that looked, well, beautiful.' Daisuke thought, then got his binder, opened to a clean page and started sketching the sight.
He went over things in his mind while he sketched away. The cooking lessons, for one. The last few weeks, Yamato had changed dramatically. He had encouraged and helped Daisuke until the point where he was sure one of them would go crazy. Maybe Yamato wasn't as bad as he seemed. In fact, he'd hate to admit it, but with his blond hair and tall figure, he was actually kind of, well, sexy. He could see what girls saw in him anyway…
'Ugh.' He though., slightly disgusted 'Yamato and I, on a date? Well, sure Yama's most likely gay and I'm bi, but still… iy would never work out.
Would it?
He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and the started thinking about cooking class. He had it after lunch. While the kids would be making… whatever, the teacher would be testing him. First, a written exam with questions like 'Is rat poison a main ingredient in cookies?' and that sort of thing. He knew he would pass it. Once Yamato took a velum or two, he was a great cooking instructor. Look back on the last month or so, Daisuke could honestly say one thing: he wouldn't have traded it for the world.
He was so lost, that he didn't really notice the knock at the door. Or that fact that the class had stopped talking and the blah blah's weren't reaching his ears. He never felt it when the classmates gazes changed directions, or the change of tones in his teachers voice. He did, however notice the out of the place voice.
"Motomiya Daisuke?" a low voice asked. This snapped Daisuke out of his state. He turned around, slightly confused. It wasn't the principal so he couldn't think of why someone else would need to see him.
He was also confused. There were flowers. A big bunch of them. He couldn't even see the person behind the bouquet was so humongous.
"These are for Motomiya Daisuke." A gruff voice said. The teacher pointed out Daisuke, who was too mystified to really say anything. Immediately the guy came over and set the flowers down on his desk. Everyone's gaze was the mahogany haired boy. Daisuke could sort of see the guy now. A delivery boy. He wore a uniform, which suggested it, and seeing the big bouquet he wasn't surprised.
Daisuke frowned at the flowers as the delivery guy left. These couldn't be for him. It had to be a mistake. He felt the heated stares of everyone in the class. Mostly from the girls, who were wondering why they didn't get any flowers. Of course, it's not like he wanted them. But still…
The teacher, after staring for a moment, got back to class. Some of the students followed her, taking their gazes for Daisuke to the board. But most didn't. At the moment, Daisuke was glad the flowers hid his face from there and vice versa. He did not want to see them.
That's when Daisuke noticed a little card taped onto the plastic, wrapped flower pot they came in. Taking a deep breath, he reached for the card, tore it off, and opened it. He slowly felt his heart race as he read the letter, written in neat, farmilliar printing.
'Dear Daisuke,
I'm sorry, but I'm a little bit under the weather so it might not be a good idea to come by today. I'll phone you when I'm conscious, or at least half awake.
Love,
Yamato.'
Daisuke felt his face flush. Love? Yamato must have been sick!
Then again, maybe so was he.
******************************
Yamato groaned as he rolled over, trying to get the pounding in his head to stop. And his stuffy nose to go away. If he took any more nasal spray his nose would probably be a fountain. It wasn't doing him any good and it drove him crazy. Plus, it was just gross. Who'd want to shove stuff up their nose anyway?
The blond looked over at the clock, and gave a weak grin. Daisuke would be getting those flowers any minute now, if the company was on schedule.
Yamato's smile grew wider as he imagined Daisuke's tanned features blushing as the flowers landed on his desk. The brunette would kill him! But hopefully, the sickness of his instructor would stop him from killing the singer until he was well. By that time, Yamato would be in Mexico. Mexico… Chile. Chile was good.
'He deserves it.' The blond thought. His kitchen would never be the same again.
*****************************
Daisuke sweated as his cooking teacher looked over his shoulder. He had to do this right or else. He had to. But her eyes…
'Don concentrate on her.' Daisuke reminded himself sternly, waiting for the timer to go off. Or the oven to explode. Whichever.
BING!
Daisuke took them wordlessly out of the oven, and sweated as he felt his teachers disturbing stare. They silently waited for them to cool down.
"I think they're ready." Mrs. Yamasaki declared. Daisuke nodded, gulped and started praying to Kami sama. He watched her carefully with wide eyes as she gingerly took a cookie, popped it into her mouth, and then frowned.
"Motomiya…" Daisuke groaned.
'Kami sama Kami sama…'
****************************
Daisuke stared up at the apartment before him. The door read '56' Under that was a sign which read 'Ishida residence.' He decided against knocking; Yamato was probably sleeping. He wasn't worried about the blonde's father. He rarely was home in the afternoons. He grasped the doorknob and turned it.
The door opened.
Daisuke frowned. Odd. When you're dying of the common cold you usually locked the door, didn't you? Especially if you were someone as over anal as Yamato.
But he shrugged it off and entered. If there was a mad murdered in there, he might have been satisfied with killing a blonde and pass him over.
Maybe.
Or maybe the mad murder liked killing brunettes more. Who knew?
The keeper of miracles set his bags down by the door and entered, looking around as if it had been the first time he was there. He smiled. Everything was in perfect order. Like Yamato. He then frowned. Maybe Yamato had an obsessive-compulsive disorder. He wouldn't be surprised. The damn blond liked everything down to a science.
Never the less Daisuke smiled. It could have been called cute. It could have also been called disturbing. But Daisuke found it more amusing. 'We could never live together.' For some reason, this made him feel a little… well, bad almost. But the situation reminded Daisuke of a show he saw where some guy was so obsessed by cleanliness he actually straightened the carpet tassels out about 100 times a day. He wondered….
He quickly shoved that thought away and entered the kitchen.
***************************
Yamato groaned as something awakened him. For the first few moments of consciousness he couldn't decipher what had awoken him. But when he did, he was a bit surprised.
Someone was cooking.
Yamato frowned. Something was wrong. First of all, he was supposed to be home alone and second of all, it couldn't be his dad, because nothing was burning. Besides, his dad knew better then to try to cook.
Yamato cautiously got on his fuzzy slippers and housecoat, and proceeded to the kitchen. What he saw there shocked him. Motomiya just stood by the stove, mixing something. Nothing was burning, on fire or other wise, the kitchen was still in one piece and so was Motomiya.
'Damn.' Yamato thought.
Daisuke suddenly seemed to notice the blonde's presence and he turned around and smiled.
"Konnichiwa Yamato. I'm just cooking lunch. Or dinner. Or… luncher!" He smiled cheerfully. Yamato stared. Daisuke's look suddenly turned stern and suspicious.
"Why are you out of bed? You're dying and all you can do is stand there and gape? C'mon, let's get you back into bed." Daisuke pushed the blonde backwards and kept shoving him until he was in his room and in his bed, snuggled up to the covers. He grinned and hopped back.
"It should be ready in 5. Take it easy and don't strain yourself too hard!" And with that, the keeper of courage and friendship bounded out of his room with the boundless energy and enthusiasm that he had. Yamato frowned for a second, but then smiled and snuggled back into the covers.
Motomiya was nice.
……
Chile.
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That felt odd, stretching my writing muscles again. But it felt a good odd. Until I write again.
-Lilac