Chapter Two – I'm Scared Of Nothing

(A/N: Again reposted due to formatting problems. No new material added.)

I'm not like that!

Yamagata marched down the street, his thoughts gasping that line over and over again.

I'm not like that!

Above him the sun blazed like the sky was melting, and glanced off the skyscrapers, sending shards of light into his eyes.

I'm not like that!

He stopped, leant against a wall, and noticed his hands were shaking. For some reason this made him feel even worse.

I'm not…

Stop it. He mentally slapped himself, tried to get his thoughts to focus properly. They wouldn't co-operate, but he forced them to actually think, rather than just panic. Panic like some dumb schoolgirl –

Stop. Stop and think.

Okay. So. Kai had kissed him. So. So what?

It's sick, being like that…you shouldn't do it, you get in trouble…he guessed, he guessed and now everyone'll guess and they'll hate me, and, and…I'm not like that…

The soup of panic washed over his brain, and he shoved his hands violently into his pockets because they still trembled.

He didn't guess, you moron, he told himself. It wasn't about guessing. He just, he just…thought you were cute, and, y'know, decided to do summat about it, and, and he had concussion anyway so he weren't thinking straight, and…

You liked it, didn't you?

Fear sliced down his throat and he felt sick.

No, I didn't. I'm straight, I know it, I'm not like that…

I won't be like that…

And slowly, without even trying, his mind peeled back and slid into that memory.

Five years ago, or something like that. Just before he'd met Kaneda and the others. He'd been hanging round with a bunch of other kids from his neighbourhood. They'd been lurking round the shopping centre for the past two hours. Now, as the sky started to turn yellow and tired, and the air changed from the warmth of the afternoon to the coolness of evening, they started to head back home, feet dragging over the dusty paving stones.

The newsagent's was a small building, tucked away down a back alley. One of the boys wanted to buy some sweets, so they all crowded into the tiny shop and kicked at the piles of newspapers and sniggered at the top-shelf porn. Pretty ladies with not many clothes and chests like balloons. He'd stared, laughing and wolf-whistling with the others, but inside not totally sure why he was doing so.

"Eeeuw, look, that one's got guys on it!"

"Why'd you want to buy one with guys in?"

"If you were a fag, stupid. Y'know, guys who get off on guys."

That nearly sent them all into hysterics.

"You ever bought any o'this stuff?" he'd asked.

"Yeah. All the time."

"Oh."

"You ain't?"

"I have." He shuffled his feet, and sent a pile of newspapers toppling over them.

"You have not. You're lying. Go on, I dare you to buy one."

"I don't wanna buy one!"

"I dare you. You gotta do it, if you're dared. Go on, buy the guy one. I dare you."

"Okay, I will!"

And he had. The newsagent had obviously just been desperate to get them out of his shop, because he'd taken the money despite the fact it was obviously an eleven-year-old offering it. And then they'd walked home laughing, and he'd whacked the others over the head with the magazine when they called him names, and then when he'd reached his apartment block he'd turned away from the rest of them and walked up the sick-coloured staircase, his footsteps echoing over the TV and shouting coming from the flats.

His mother was in the kitchen, and she didn't notice him slink past into his room. He didn't like his mother much, and he was pretty sure she didn't like him. Her eyes – watery, washed-out eyes – seemed blank when they looked at him, and she never smiled.

But he liked his dad. His dad was cool. No one messed with him, and why would they? The guy was over six foot and tough as hell.

Sometimes he'd hit Yamagata and his mum, but it was never that bad. Just a quick punch, and then he'd always buy you summat or pick you up afterwards. Sometimes the social services had seen the bruises or healing lip and taken Yamagata away from home, put him in care, but it never lasted, there wasn't enough room, and come on, it wasn't like he was in real danger or nothing. Besides, he hated being in care. Stuck with a bunch of nerds you wouldn't choose to even sit next to on a bus, whiners and bed-wetters and psychos. Stuck in rooms that always seemed to be painted some horrible shade of green or yellow. No, home was better any day.

Yamagata pushed the door of his room shut behind him, and dropped down to study the magazine. He'd shelled out his money for the damn thing, he may as well look at it, right?

The evening sunlight slid down over the ceiling, and smears of red, like wrinkles in the sky, throbbed outside the blind.

He didn't understand much of what he saw, but some of it was cool. It felt kind of nice, looking at it. Same sort of feeling he was beginning to get when he saw pretty girl singers, or Mishima Nara at school. A sort of tingly feeling.

So he put a hand down his jeans, and stroked the feeling, and the sun faded, and the sky began to turn deeper blue outside.

He was so involved in what he was doing that he didn't hear the door open, and only realised his mother was standing there watching him when she coughed, and said, "Dinner's ready."

He jumped, and looked up. She stood there, face blank, framed by stringy hair, but there was a blush, like a slap, spreading across her cheekbones. And she'd not only seen what he was doing, but what was making him do it. Her eyes scratched at him and the magazine like pins.

"Uh – yeah, I'm coming."

Her lips tightened, and she turned and walked out, into the dining room, where he could see his dad sitting and reading the paper.

Yamagata got to his feet, reluctantly closed the magazine, and went to wash his hands, and then headed into the dining room, and right away knew there was something wrong.

His mother slumped at the end of the table, staring down at her place, and his father had slammed the paper down – it lay, entrails spilling out across the table – and his face was knotted with anger, and Yamagata stopped, because this sort of anger usually meant a punch, and he didn't want to make it any worse for himself.

"Just what did you think you were doing?"

"I –"

And then his father had got up from the chair – the one with the snapped back, which skidded along the linoleum – and marched forward, and grabbed him by the shirt, and punched him.

"Your mother told me what she saw you doing."

Another blow, this one to the eye, and the world darkened and colours burst out of the walls and sparkled in front of his vision. And he swallowed, because he was really scared suddenly. His dad had never punched him more than once at a time before.

"I didn't do nothing…I just –"

"That disgusting magazine?"

"I was just lookin' at it –"

Another punch, and then his dad let go of him, and he collapsed onto the floor, and saw blood dotting itself across the linoleum like tiny footprints.

"Boys don't do that sort of thing," his father growled, and kicked him hard in the ribs, and the pain, hard, gritted, reverberated through the bones. "You get it? Boys don't do it. If they do, they ain't boys, they're not anything. They're freaks. That's what you wanna be?"

He shook his head, biting his bleeding lip to try and stop it trembling. He hadn't meant anything bad…he hadn't known…

His father looked down at him, and his face softened a little. "Then you get rid of that trash, and you don't do it again. Right?"

I didn't mean anything bad.

And it had felt damn nice.

And none of the other guys ever let their dads boss them around. His dad never let anyone boss him around.

"I'll do whatever I want," he'd said through the blood seeping over his mouth.

That had been a mistake. That had been a big mistake.

His father had dragged him up on his feet again, and hit him again, lots and lots of times until he couldn't think any more, and then dragged him into the other room and beaten him with a belt and that had actually made him scream – and not much did, even then – and then left him lying there. There'd been so much blood, dotting the carpet, seeping into his T-shirt and down his chin. And he'd lain there as the night climbed up outside the window, and then – later – there'd been footsteps, and people he didn't know had come through the door.

His mum had called the social worker people. Yamagata often wondered if she'd planned it, known his dad would go crazy and get their son taken away from them. Not that he cared.

Because they'd taken him away from the flat, back into care, and this time he hadn't come back.

And he'd been in care ever since. No one wanted to adopt a trouble-making teenage boy with an attitude.

He remembered the first night he'd arrived. Lying in a hospital bed – on his front because his back still hurt too much to be touched – and trying to make sense of it all.

It was ten p.m. Several hours earlier, he'd been at home and expecting to stay there, he'd been normal, he'd been just having a bit of fun…and now he was here, in the dark, staring at the chipped paint of an unfamiliar bedstead, his body still sullen with pain, and listening to someone in another bed crying, over and over.

Freak…

He hadn't meant anything bad.

Well, so what? He obviously had done something bad. His dad was smart enough to know. So he'd just have to be careful now. Ignore that part of him that seemed to like thinking about guys like that. Not listen to it. It'd be easy enough, right?

Because if you don't, you'll be a freak, and everyone will know this time, and they'll really hurt you.

He rested his head on his arms, and closed his swollen eyes.

I'm not a freak. I'm not like that.

Deep down inside him maybe there was something wrong with him. But he wasn't going to admit that, was he? He'd ignore the freak bit. And if he ignored it, maybe it would die.

He could control it. He wouldn't – couldn't – let it control him.

All that brought was pain.

It had been easy enough. For the last five years he'd been happy enough with girls, and hadn't let his mind ever think about boys at all, not in that way. And it had worked. A few dreams, that was all. And dreams didn't count, and he'd pretended he couldn't remember them.

And now this.

Kai had kissed him. Kai had kissed him and it wasn't fair, because he'd liked Kai, they'd been friends, he didn't want to hate him, but that was what he was gonna have to do, because going near the guy now would be too dangerous, it would be like touching a live wire, it could fry him.

I didn't like it, I hated it, it was sick and gross and horrible and I didn't like it.

Yes, you did…

No! Right, that was it. He wasn't going near Kai, no way, not ever. Besides, he had Suki now. He didn't need anyone else.

If someone offered you Suki or Kai, both buck-naked, which would you choose? whispered that part of his mind which knew exactly how he really felt.

He decided not to answer that question. It shouldn't be as hard a decision as it was.

Just because he'd never seen Kai naked.

Stop it! He mentally slapped himself again. Right. Okay. If he never, never thought of the kiss again – except in a yuck way – and if he reminded himself it was Suki who was hot, Suki who he was going with, Suki who was what he liked, and if he – if he just – just kept right away from Kai…

Things would all be all right.

Once Kai was over his concussion, he'd kick him out, and make sure he never got into such a dumb situation again.

Yeah. That'd work.

Cigarette smoke curled up through the hot night air, glowing in the light of a million skyscrapers.

Kai rested his elbows on the side of the bridge, and stared down at the road. On either side of him, the shopping centre glowed with music and neon, and below him, tiny glimmers of headlamps skimmed over the road. He was on top of the world here, right in the middle of Neo-Tokyo. The city buzzed with light around him, specks of streetlamp and skyscraper as far out as you could see.

He sighed, and turned towards the others. Kaneda was sitting on the edge of the fountain, Hiroko draped round him. He was talking to Tetsuo, who was looking kind of bored, probably because Kaori wasn't there. And on the other side of the fountain, half-hidden behind the curtains of glistening water, were Yamagata and Suki.

Kai felt his eyes narrow.

It had been a week since the, um, incident. His bike was still missing. And Yamagata was treating him like a cross between a loony and a plague victim – that is, always walking at least three foot away from him, only speaking to him when he had to, and never, never making eye contact.

Like I'd got a sign round my neck, he thought. This boy is unclean.

Suki's shriek of laughter tore into the night. Kai wondered if he dared go grab two of the crushed beer cans floating in the fountain and pitch them at her and her boyfriend's heads. In the end he decided against it. He'd managed to keep his face unbeaten for the past week. Why break a good record?

Course, the main reason he hadn't had his face broken was that he hadn't been out riding, due to the lack of a bike. He hitched a lift with one of the others when he had to – like to get into school – but no one really wanted to risk riding two to a bike when you had a hoard of angry Clowns on your tail.

And hitching a lift sucked anyway. Kaneda didn't mind exactly, but he kept lecturing Kai on how important it was not to lose your bike, and that got real old after the second time. Hitching a lift with Tetsuo meant an argument because Kai couldn't resist offering to drive because he was obviously the better driver, which didn't go down too well.

And Yamagata…

Yamagata managed to never give him a lift, because Yamagata managed to be halfway down the road and accelerating whenever the subject came up.

"Kai, quit sulking and come act like a normal person."

Kai pushed himself off the wall and turned to face Kaneda. "I am acting normal."

"You've been staring into the traffic all night. You gonna fling yourself down there or something?"

Kai scowled, and slunk over to the fountain, feeling like the whole world was snapping and snarling at him. He sat down on the edge of it, between Tetsuo and Suki, who was leaning against Yamagata, her hair sprawled across his chest. That was just as irritating as everything else she did, he thought. But then, everything was driving him mad tonight, including the annoyingly perky music oozing out of the shopping centre doors.

Although maybe annoyingly perky was better than miserable love ballads. For some reason those were getting to him way too much. Whereas before he'd snort and turn off the radio, or roll his eyes, or make fun of it, now…now they sort of seemed to echo how he felt.

However that was.

Suki giggled again, and he glanced in her direction. She was nuzzling up against Yamagata, leaving lipstick smears on his chin.

Give me oil any day, Kai thought. Yamagata glanced up, met his eyes, and he felt an odd, nervous jump in his stomach.

Yeah, cos even though he seems to hate your guts, you still want to kiss him again.

I do not.

Yamagata dropped his gaze, and then suddenly grabbed Suki by the shoulders and kissed her so hard she yelped.

"What're you doing to her?" Kaneda called from the other side of the fountain.

"Oh, don't worry about –" Suki's last word was engulfed by another kiss. She and Yamagata were slowly moving into a more horizontal position, his hands crawling over her body. Kai crossed his fingers and hoped they'd fall into the fountain.

"Kaneda," Hiroko said, "I'm bored."

"Well, let's go someplace else, then. Come on, guys."

Tetsuo got to his feet. Kai stayed where he was. Yamagata and Suki continued grappling.

"Guys?"

"I'll stay here," Kai said.

"How'll you get home afterwards?"

"I'll walk. Clowns won't pick on me if I don't have a bike, they won't notice me."

"Okay…" Kaneda frowned, then shrugged. "Yamagata?"

"Mm…no, I, um, got stuff to do."

"Hah, I noticed. Okay, see you tomorrow."

Kai watched the others walk away from the glittering mall, their shadows stretching out dark from their feet.

So. Now what?

He glanced at Yamagata again, and felt a dull, heavy fury pulse inside him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't damn well fair.

He didn't need to freak out like that. I said I was sorry, didn't I? He doesn't need to keep treating me like I'm some sort of weirdo. And it's absolutely pathetic trying to make me jealous or whatever he's doing, because it is not working –

He realised he was clenching his fists so hard his fingers hurt.

"Yamagata?" he said. "You gonna be done any time soon?"

Yamagata sat up a little, and glared at him.

"Look," he said, "I know you're a freak, but I'm not. So why don't you just piss off and leave me to get on with stuff, like a normal person?"

"I'm a freak?" Kai heard his voice go tight with rage. "Hey, you're the one who's so desperate you'd – you'd screw a two-bit – fish-faced – whore. No one else'd have you, is that it?"

Suki sat up a bit now, flicked a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Watch your mouth, you little pig. Why don't you go and find something to do with some other kids, 'stead of sitting here watching the grown-ups?"

"Fuck you –" He wasn't thinking any more, his mind was a swirl of fury – suddenly he was running towards Suki, fists still clenched – and she shrieked – and Yamagata stood up, and backhanded him across the face, and then he was sprawled across the concrete.

Yamagata stalked over to him, grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up to face level.

"Get the hell out," he said.

"Why should I?" Kai hissed. "Why can't I chat with Suki a while – just tell her what happened last week – how much you liked it –"

Yamagata hit him again, then dropped him.

"Get out," he said, and walked away.

But he'd gone pale for a second there, and Kai had felt his hand tense.

Slowly he picked up himself up, rubbed the bruise forming on his face, and staggered a little way along the bridge, and back into the stuffy, perfumed air of the mall. He felt dizzy again, like he was floating some way above his body, but as he stepped onto the escalator, he started to sink back into himself, and his bruises throbbed, and he felt stamped on, and stupid, and small.

Hate you. Hate you. Hate you.

That music was still going on, and it was squashing his anger, trying to make him happy. Well, he wouldn't be happy. He was going to hold onto this rage, going to make it burn.

Hate you. Hate you. Hate you.

you. you. you.

Reached the ground now. Walking over old paper bags, kicking squashed drinks cans which rattled away from his feet, the blazing shop windows dazzling his night-soaked eyes. His thoughts meshed with his footsteps, and the anger flowed through him down to the soles of his shoes.

Hate you. Hate you. Hate –

And there, parked outside, was Yamagata's bike.

He'd ridden on that bike, a week ago. Now if he even looked at it Yamagata drove it away from him so he couldn't contaminate it with his weird, sick, freak eyes.

Hate you –

Suki would ride on it tonight, wouldn't she. Wrap her bracelet-covered arms round him, rest her messy, greasy head on his back, whisper stupid sappy stuff from her sticky, shiny lips. And they'd laugh, they'd laugh at him, the stupid freak kid who had no friends and no girlfriend, and Yamagata would say he's so desperate he tried to leap on me, how's that for freakiness? and Suki would giggle and then he'd stop the bike and turn round to her and they'd start eating each other's faces –

Hate you hate you hate you

He was hardly conscious of kneeling down, hardly conscious of dragging the knife that he carried from his pocket, hardly conscious of finding the brake leads on the bike and slicing, slicing, slicing, till all his rage had oozed out of his arm and he was just sitting there, watching the headlights rush along the knife's blade…

Eventually he pushed it back into his pocket, and stood up. He was shaking slightly, and he tried not to look at the bike.

But this'll show that stuck-up whore and – and –

Sabotage.

Sabotage was bad. Really bad. If – if any of them found out – it wouldn't be just Yamagata mad with him, it would be all of them –

But how? How could he fix it now? Oh shit, he'd just have to hope, maybe Yamagata would – would be able to stop okay, or maybe, maybe he could walk up to them now and say he thought the leads looked pretty dodgy, yeah, that could work…

Get real. They won't listen.

What had he done?

The evening air was cold, and suddenly he was scared.

Well, he'd wait here. He'd wait, and, and…then when they came, he'd do something. Something.

Something.

Much later, or so it seemed, there were running footsteps, and shouting. Familiar-voiced shouting.

"What is with you tonight?" Suki was screaming. "You've been after me like you lost your keys in my underpants! I like a good time but –"

"Well, what's your problem, then?" Yamagata snapped back.

"My problem is you're only doing this because you're bored." Suki sounded like she was pouting. "You're only doing to this to – to prove something to your stupid friends. You're not doing this to make me happy or anything. Are you?"

"I am so!"

"You are not!"

Suki crashed through the glass-fronted doors, stilettos hitting the pavement like bullets. Yamagata stormed after her, looking rumpled and extremely cross.

"Quit being such a bitch," he said. "You don't want a good time with me, there's plenty of girls who do."

"Oh, of course. Millions of girls want to go out with Yamagata the Great. Well, I'm not one of them! Find someone you actually like, not – not someone you just want to impress your mates with!"

Blinking mascara-dyed tears away, she click-clacked off down the road. Yamagata glared after her a moment, then turned to face his bike, and started slightly as he saw Kai sitting on it.

"I thought you'd gone," he said.

"Well…I haven't." Kai stood up. "Don't worry. I haven't polluted your bike and…and I'm gonna walk home now. Bye."

Yamagata didn't even want to speak to him. How the hell could he do anything now?

"You – uh – you want a lift?"

"Huh?"

"Do – you – want – a – lift, moron." Yamagata stood, staring at a point a few inches above Kai's head, and threw out the words as though he couldn't see who he was aiming them at. "Yes or no. I'm in a hurry."

Kai swallowed, and stared at the bike, which shone under the streetlamps.

This could kill you.

But…

He couldn't just let Yamagata drive off into the darkness. If – if what he'd done actually worked (oh, please don't let it) – then there'd be an accident, and Yamagata'd be all alone in the dark and he might get found by cops or Clowns…he might die…

At least if I'm there, there'll be someone to call an ambulance.

It was such a horrible thought he didn't want to keep it in his head any more than necessary.

"Sure, okay."

He climbed on behind Yamagata, and tried to breathe normally. Maybe, maybe if he acted normal, kept calm, maybe everything would just be normal.

I can't really have done anything really bad. I can't have done.

He knew enough about bikes to know that that was a big lie, but this thought was nicer. He didn't want to think about what might happen. Really didn't.

And the engine started, and they were dashing through glittering streets, pulsing headlamps, and adverts for noodles and movies, and shop windows stuffed with TV sets, glowing and dancing in the thick, smoky night. And even riding on the back of a bike was cool. Neo-Tokyo roared and sang in his ears. When you were like this, you had power, you could go anywhere, do anything, you were unstoppable.

He remembered his own bike, and sighed.

"We'll find it," Yamagata called back to him through the air rushing past them. "Your bike, right?"

"Uh-huh." Wow, for a moment the guy had actually sounded like he was talking to a human being.

"I'll drop you back home?"

Oh no, now it was back to the dead voice.

"Yeah, that's cool."

He wanted to ask why are you talking to me at all? but if he did, Yamagata might remember he wasn't supposed to, and go all silent again. And he was enjoying this ride too much, the rushing air, and the speed, and –

Yamagata being so close you could practically stroke him if you wanted.

Oh, shut up.

On the other hand, it was kind of nice being close to someone like this. Just because, you know, it was cool to feel you weren't alone.

Oh, yeah? Didn't notice you getting all mushy about hitching a lift with Kaneda or Tetsuo.

Shut up.

Anyway, he'd better not get too touchy-feely. Not that he wanted to, of course. But if he did, Yamagata would probably stop and fling him off into the road.

No, he won't stop, he'll try and stop, and then he'll realise he can't. Remember?

Kai swallowed as a nasty, sick, guilty feeling started to bubble in his stomach. No, he hadn't remembered. He'd been doing his best to forget. But now it slammed back into his mind like a brick or, heh, an iron bar, and it was impossible to think about anything else.

Be careful…please be careful…

"Don't get me killed," he said. "Just…slow down, will you?"

"You're telling me to slow down? Kai, what is with you? Don't tell me a week without a bike and you're turning into a wimp."

"No. I just…"

I just sabotaged your bike and I'm scared I'm gonna kill us.

"Forget it."

"Yeah, well, I know what I'm doing."

Yes. But you don't know what I did.

"Yeah. I guess."

Yamagata shook his head as he charged through the oncoming traffic.

Kai looked round at the streets. They were nearly back. Nearly safe –

Oh, shit. Yamagata would drop him off at the dorm, and then ride off alone…

On the other hand, he'd have to stop first. Maybe he'd notice what was going on. Maybe he'd slow down, and then realise the brakes weren't working, and then, then he'd see it was too dangerous to ride any more, and he'd be okay.

Yeah. That could work. Kai started to feel a little better. It would all be okay if that happened, and it could happen, it could happen easy. He'd just tell Yamagata to slow down a bit once they got to the right street cos of the complaints he'd get the next day about the noise –

"After them!"

"Huh?" Kai turned, and all his terror rushed forward again. "Yamagata, it's the Clowns!"

"Shit, what is it with them? They got homing beacons on us or something?"

"What'll we do?"

"Lose 'em – hope we don't get our heads whacked off –"

The tyres squealed as Yamagata wrenched the bike round a corner. Kai clung on as the bike tipped to the side, trying not to notice the warmth of Yamagata's body under his hands. This was no time to be getting…weird.

"Uh-oh, still following –" Kai glanced behind them. The lead Clown was gaining, and shit, he had a damn iron bar…

"Hang on…"

Another corner, another. Kerbs and lights and the clatter and spit of iron bars dragged along tarmac. Shouts and taunts from behind them.

And then – then Yamagata was charging straight towards a wall of slowly moving cars – lights noise petrol – and zigzagging between them – and an explosion of hooting and cursing from the drivers – and several crashes as Clowns met cars – and then, then they were coasting down the road, away from the gridlock, and most importantly, away from the Clowns.

Yamagata cheered, and punched the air. "See? Told you I knew what I'm doing!"

"Hey, I believe you. 'Cept we're now going in completely the wrong direction." Kai watched as the road sloped away into darkness ahead of them. Every so often a car charged past into it and was swallowed up. Empty houses lurked on the edges of it, shutting out the city-glow, spilling shadow over the pavements instead.

"Shut up. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"With my bike."

"Okay, okay. I'm turning round…"

His hand tensed on the brakes.

And then –

"Huh? We're not –"

Oh, shit – they were going faster and faster – lights of cars rushing past them – faster – faster – faster –

And then – then the bike rocked violently, and he was thrown off, and the ground slammed into him several times, and the night broke through his skull.

"Kai?"

Ow…

"Kai!"

His skull growled and throbbed…he hurt…

"Kai, if you're dead I'm gonna fucking kill you, now wake up…please wake up…"

He tried opening an eye. Nothing terrible happened, so he opened both.

Someone shook him. "Kai!"

"Yeah…"

Yamagata blurred into focus above him.

"You – you okay?" he said.

"I'm fine." Kai sat up, slowly. "You?"

Yamagata nodded. He was shaking.

"What the fuck happened?" he said, sharply, painfully. "I – I tried to fucking stop, and the fucking brakes…they wouldn't fucking work…"

Suddenly Kai remembered what he'd done.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he yelled. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just a little…shook up…"

He did look shocked. The headlights of the passing cars kept flaring up in the sweat on his face, and he was staring out at the world as though it was all too new and loud for him.

"You've taken tumbles before," Kai said slowly, and guilt started to crunch his stomach. What have I done…

"Yeah, but then I knew what I was doing…I mean…my bike worked, I worked, it was cos of the Clowns, or it was me not gettin' something right…this…it should've worked…"

He ran a hand over his face.

"And then I saw you lying over here out cold and I thought I'd killed you, I thought you were dead…"

"Well, I'm not," Kai said. "Don't worry."

He looked round, squinting in the darkness. They were sprawled at the side of the road, near the old houses. Every so often a car shot past them and burned out his eyes.

"Where's your bike?"

Yamagata jerked a thumb behind them. His bike lay on its side, embedded in a wall, looking as miserable as a bike could.

"Is it okay?"

"Dunno. Seems to be all right, but I'm not riding it again if it's gonna bail out on me…"

Kai swallowed, and rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he could block out this whole scene forever and wake up in bed having had a rather horrible dream.

"Kai, are you okay?"

"For the third time, yes! Quit freaking out!"

Yamagata shrugged, and started picking chunks of grit out of the grazes on his arms.

"Hey, I thought you might be getting dizzy –" he said, and then stopped, and reddened, and their eyes met, and suddenly Kai remembered they were supposed to be mad with each other.

Coward. He can't even admit why he's mad.

"Why would you care?" he snapped. "Only freaks get dizzy, don't they?"

Yamagata folded his grazed arms, and scowled. "Yeah, that's what I always heard."

"Well, if I'm so freaky, why'd you give me a lift?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'm just a great person."

"Oh, yeah, sure you are."

"Well, at least I ain't…"

He stopped.

"This is stupid," he said at last. "Come on, let's start walking. We can't stay here all night."

Kai got to his feet, wincing as several bruises suddenly flared into life on his skin, and watched as Yamagata helped his bike out of the wall and started dusting it off. Watched in a totally non-interested manner, okay?

Well, all right, maybe slightly interested.

It wasn't his fault he was suddenly feeling breathless, that the air was trapped in his chest and flickering behind his ribs like a lantern flame. And it wasn't his fault he suddenly wanted to smile for no reason.

And it wasn't his fault Yamagata was damn hot in the first place…tall, and, and you wanted to run your hands over the muscles smooth in his skin, and…

Yamagata turned and met his eyes, and Kai felt himself blush.

"Quit staring at me," Yamagata snapped.

"Who says I was staring?"

"I saw you. Quit it."

"Why should I?" The breathless feeling was still there, and Kai took several deep swallows of air to try and get rid of it.

"Cos I ain't like that and I don't need you sighing over me like some ditzy fangirl!"

Kai suddenly really wanted to punch him. "I'm not sighing over you. I just…"

"What?" Yamagata climbed onto his bike.

"I don't see why it bothers you. When Suki gropes you, you just sit there and smirk."

"That's because Suki's normal, and I'm normal, and you're not."

For a moment there was silence, silence thick with the roars of cars and radios pulsing through the air.

Kai walked slowly towards Yamagata, anger burning a hole in his throat and glowing red behind his eyes. He didn't know what he was going to do – all he knew was that he had to do something, because the fury was too hot to stand still with.

They stood, facing each other, the headlights of the cars behind them rushing across Yamagata's eyes.

"You take that back," Kai said, and the anger gripped his voice and it hurt to speak. "You take that back right now."

"Make me. It's true, ain't it?"

Hate you. Hate you…

I don't want him to hate me …

Hate you…

He nearly hit out – he wanted to – the anger jumped around inside – but Yamagata, staring scornfully into his eyes, was close enough to touch –

To kiss –

So he did. It was dark, and the hot night wrapped around them, and Kai could feel the warmth from the other guy's skin seeping into him, dull and heavy. His head started to throb – but it wasn't a bad ache – it was part of the aching all over him that just sat up and begged for him to keep doing this – Yamagata had frozen, wasn't pulling away, wasn't responding, and Kai knew this could only lead to trouble, but it felt so good –

I'll make you see I'm normal…or that you're as freaky as me…

Yamagata clutched Kai's shoulders, and leant forward into the kiss, pulling Kai down towards him…and time really did seem to have slowed, just like in the movies, turned into an everlasting second of heat and darkness…

They broke apart.

Kai wanted to drop his eyes, but he made himself keep staring. He wasn't gonna let up.

Go on. Admit it.

Yamagata was shaking. Then he drew a long, slow breath.

"You bastard," he said at last. "Why…"

"Why not?"

"I'm not like that!"

Yamagata sprang to his feet, and starting dragging the bike along the road.

"What are you so damn scared of?" Kai yelled after him.

"I'm scared of nothing!"

"You're scared of this!"

"I'm just sick of locking lips with you!"

"You liked it!"

Yamagata didn't answer. Just vanished into the darkness.