Hero Worship

Part Six

+ Natsu +

A/N: Well. I have been utterly uninspired to write this for so long that I was beginning to think that it would never get written. I got sucked into the Harry Potter fandom and just couldn't seem to claw my way out. But then I bought the new New Found Glory CD. And...well yeah. I would like to thank New Found Glory for being Daisuke personified in music. And then I had to stop again because I was swamped with work. *snarls angrily* It hits a bit of a...mm. It just turns into a big pile of crap towards the end.

Um also...the vague beginnings of the Kensuke are woven aimlessly through this chapter. Not that I have any vague kind of experience of Kensuke...I have to warm up to it gradually. Um...also have realised that I seem to have stopped being Daisuke...am being descriptive...Hmm...sorry. My muse for this fic is going through a 'look at me trying to be an intellectual' stage. *swats at her*

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It's weird how quickly you get used to things isn't it? Like if you go on vacation somewhere, it's not long before you find yourself forgetting that your life doesn't consist solely of sand, sunshine and ice cream cones. By Wednesday morning, it already felt almost normal to be waking up in Taichi's bed. It was getting easier and easier to refer to his things as 'mine', and I was getting used to forcing myself to struggle through his lessons at school. They weren't all bad. Anything that came out of the teacher's mouth in either Maths or Biology still made no sense whatsoever but I could spend the time drawing unsuspecting classmates and rely on Yamato to fill me in when I had neglected to listen to instructions again. In Maths on Wednesday I drew the girl who sat next to the window, pale hand playing against her cheek as she chewed the end of her pen, red curls slipping loose from the clasp at the nape of her neck. The clasp was thick and made of vanished wood that caught the pallid classroom lights and glowed like amber. In Biology the partnership next to Yamato and I set fire to their results sheet and the smell of smoke curled lazily around us amidst the shouts of the teacher and the laughter of the students as the paper burned in a merry, if short-lived, little blaze that left scorch marks dabbed artistically over the matte surface of their safety mat.

The school soccer season was over for the year but I was discovering that I really kicked ass at tennis and more than once the coach had singled me out for praise. Wednesday afternoon was warm and sweaty and the neon surface of the tennis ball bristled uncomfortably against my clammy palms as I reared back to serve and send the ball crashing over the net with a satisfying 'puck' from the taut racket strings. In Sociology I would spend the time being loud and opinionated in debates and watching Sumi tap her glossy nails against the wooden desktop during the dull theory. On Monday they had been pink, the colour of cotton candy, Tuesday they were black and on that Wednesday they were a rich, earthy crimson that reminded me of blood, cherries and Jun's cinnamon dental floss. For the first time I noticed that those tapping nails moved with a definite rhythm, that Sumi's eyebrows were dipped lightly in concentration as if the tune to accompany the beat was playing in her head under all the little twisty braids she was wearing.

I was noticing little things that day, for no apparent reason. Which was weird because I don't normally pay attention to...well...to anything. But that Wednesday I noticed everything; from the way that the patchy shadows on the tennis courts shifted slightly with the clouds to the way that Yamato chewed almost imperceptibly on the top of his bottom lip when he was concentrating on a mass of equations.

I noticed Ken the first time when we were walking to school. I noticed that he was unusually quiet, even quieter than was normal for him. Then I noticed Ken the second time that Wednesday as I was on the way to meet Yamato for lunch. I saw his distinctive head of hair through the window of the library as I was passing and while any normal person would have assumed he was working and ignored him, I, of course, didn't, despite the fact I was already late for lunch. I know it sounds sappy, but I was missing him. And even if I couldn't talk to him like I normally would do, I just felt the need to at least see him, sit near him for a little while. He was like my link back to normalcy, maybe. Besides, Tai had asked us to eat lunch with he and Ken and I had agreed since Yamato had ignored the question and left it up to me to decide. Ken wasn't working anyway, just kind of sitting with a book open on the table, staring through the window at nothing in particular.

The door gave an irritable shriek of protest as I pushed it open, earning me a bitter look from the wrinkled librarian who sat brooding behind her desk.

"Think your door needs oiling," I informed her amiably as I walked past her, dropped my books next to Ken and slid into the seat in front of him. He started as the heavy books hit the table and I watched his gaze shift from them up to me, deep irises focusing slowly as he dragged himself out of his thoughts and back to the world. I grinned at him.

"Hey," I said cheerily, eyes flicking round his comfortingly familiar face, drinking in as much of him as I possibly could. I wanted my sketchbooks from home. I wondered if they were still in my room, if Tai had them.

He blinked for a moment before saying calmly, "Hello Daisuke," and then raising one smooth eyebrow when I didn't say anything more, "Can I help you?"

"Nah, I'm fine," I shrugged. "Just thought I'd, you know, say 'hey'."

"Okay. Well...hey." Ken reached out a hand and flipped the book he was 'reading' shut and began piling the others on top of it.

"You don't have to pack up just 'cause I'm here," I found myself saying.

"No it's not that. I was just leaving anyway."

"Oh okay. Are you coming to lunch then?"

Ken seemed focused on the engrossing task of stuffing the books into his bag, which while I admit can occasionally be somewhat challenging to me, should not have been the slightest bit difficult for Ken with all his IQ numbers

"Um I think I have to see my Chemistry teacher," he said eventually, not meeting my eyes but looking everywhere else there was to look, then tucking his hair nervously behind his ears twice in quick succession. Nobody is more obvious when they lie than Ken is, especially if you know what to look for.

"Your Chem teacher? What for?" I smirked good-naturedly, "Sure it isn't him coming to you for help?" I always make jokes about him being a genius. Just in the same way he makes jokes about me being completely oblivious to the world in general. They're not nasty or anything, just something we do. In response he offered me a wry smile, which was so familiar it almost made me forget that we weren't best friends anymore.

"No."

"What's it about then? C'mon indulge me. I'm a nosey weirdo."

"Oh just some theorem that we've been studying. I just can't quite seem to grasp it." Ken tossed his hair too casually, his gaze slipping from mine again.

"Yeah right. You know...if you don't want to eat lunch with us you just have to say. I won't be offended or anything."

Ken blinked at me and then smiled uncomfortably and stood.

"Of course I want to eat with you. I just...I..." He swung his bag gracefully over one shoulder as he cast about for something to say.

"You...?"

"I have to..."

"Just felt like some alone time, huh?"

"Well...yes. Sort of." Ken said, looking away resignedly.

"Hey it's not a big deal. We all need our own time sometimes." Ken always liked to have little blocks of time that he could spend on his own. Of course, 'on his own' generally translated to 'on his own with his best friend'. "I guess Tai won't be eating with us either then, right?"

If possible Ken looked even more uncomfortable.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't really spoken to him since we walked to school this morning," he said quietly.

"Oh. Okay."

I think I expected him to leave then, but he didn't. He kept kind of hovering hesitatingly, glaring blankly at the floor.

"Is there, um, something wrong?" I asked. Ken flicked turbulent eyes up to meet me and I could see as clear as day that he wanted desperately to tell me, to tell someone. But I know him. And so I knew that he wouldn't tell a soul, whatever it was. I was waiting for the denial and the false 'everything's fine', but he didn't say anything and instead just sank back into the chair with a sigh.

Eventually he looked at me and said firmly, "Nothing that I can't handle," with a smile.

I hated Tai then. I hated him suddenly and irrationally for not understanding my best friend in the way that he deserves to be understood. Ken is complex. That's the easiest way to describe him. He is not just your average person and so you can't treat him as if he is. That was the very first thing I learnt about him. If you can be bothered to make the effort to know him properly then you're fine. You need to understand what he means when he says things. He'll say one thing but mean something completely different, or he'll say two words but really be communicating a whole internal monologue to you. If I couldn't be Ken's best friend now, it was up to Tai to look after him. And how could he not notice that something was so blatantly wrong? Even TK had been watching him more carefully this morning, I remembered suddenly. And Tai hadn't even bothered to look.

Of course, it was really more my fault than it was his. Yeah, that made me feel really great. Well never mind. If it's my fault, it's up to me to try to make it better, right? Right. So I started talking before he could get up and make a break for it.

"Ken...I know I'm not the most obvious person for you to talk to about anything, but if you ever have, you know, any great desire to spill, then I'm here to...well, to be spilled on, I guess. I wouldn't tell anyone. I can keep a secret. And I'm not as stupid as I look either. I could probably understand most of what you say, providing you keep it pretty much in layman's terms." I grinned at him in what I hoped was a comforting way. He was watching me with guarded interest.

"Thanks. I appreciate that," he said in a non-committal way, even if there was something in his expression that told me he really did appreciate it.

"I know you don't like to talk to anyone about, well, anything, but we all need to talk sometimes. Am I right?"

"What makes you think I don't like to talk to people?" was the almost instantaneous response.

"I know a lot more about you than you'd think," I smiled mysteriously. "Oh great, and now I sound like some scary stalker and you'll definitely never be talking to me about anything at all."

Ken almost smiled.

"No, seriously...lucky guess. You're kind of like Yamato. He doesn't like to talk about stuff, so I figured you might not either." I shrugged in what I hoped was a nonchalant way. I have no clue whether Yamato likes to talk about stuff or not. In fact, I wonder if Tai would have been pissed off at me had our positions been reversed. Oh wait they already were reversed. If Tai knew they were reversed, I'm pretty sure he'd be more than pissed off at me. Hypocrite? Moi?

"Oh. Well. I guess you guessed kind of right. I do like to talk to people...just not about some things."

"I understand totally." I got up from my seat and grabbed my books. "So...are you going to come to lunch?"

"I..."

"Aw c'mon. It'll be fine. You can just sit there and ignore everyone if you like and I'll even make sure nobody tries to talk to you or anything."

"You don't have to do that," Ken smiled, "but I'll come anyway." He shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

And so Ken and I walked to lunch together.

* * * * * *

Ken's apartment smells of clean things. It's something I've always noticed. Taichi's apartment smells of living, Yamato's smells of being, mine smells like Jun, and Ken's smells of clean. There is an all-pervading odour of his mother's rose-scented pot pourri and apple and jasmine plug-in air freshener. The two mismatched smells seem to clash and make everything sickly sweet and dizzying, but it's a smell I recognise and have gotten used to. I wanted to throw my arms out and bask in it when I walked through the door that afternoon; it felt like months since I had last smelled it. I managed to restrain myself from basking though, which was a good thing because I would have looked completely ridiculous if I had done.

"Sorry about the mess," Ken said almost as soon as we'd walked through the door, "my mother's wine-tasting group met here last night and they got a bit...overexcited." He gestured to a haphazard tangle of empty wine glasses and napkins strewn all over the lounge. "I guess she hasn't had a chance to clear up yet."

We all said our respective 'don't worry about it, it's fine, my mum's just the same', but Ken proceeded to tidy anyway, before any of us were allowed to sit. And true to the theme of the day, I made a point of noticing the way everyone sat.

Tai positively threw himself down onto what was normally, I noticed with a stab of annoyance, my seat. He sat sideways, legs dangling over one arm of the chair, head on folded arms resting on the other. He sat as if he owned the place. Yamato took the seat opposite Tai, where Ken normally sat, and lowered himself into the chair slowly, languidly, eyes lazily taking in everything around him and storing it away for later use. He crossed his legs carefully and it struck me suddenly that there seemed to be something calculated about all his movements. No, calculated isn't the right word...inherent. There was something inherent about his movements, like those of a dancer or a gymnast whose training is so deeply ingrained in them that it spills over into daily life.

My seat being taken, I sat down sulkily on the sofa where the familiar plush feel of the cushions relaxed me instantly. Ken, having waited for everyone else to take their seats first, sat next to me on the edge of the sofa, hands resting in his lap. It was strange, but in comparison to Tai and Yamato, and I suppose myself, Ken looked the stiffest and the least comfortable. And he was in his own home.

"So...what do you want to do?" Ken asked then with an apparently comfortable smile, as if in defiance to my analysis.

It was the end of the day, after school, in case you were wondering how I went from the library suddenly to Ken's house. Lunch was basically uneventful. Ken and I had found Taichi and Yamato already eating and engaged in surprisingly easy conversation. We had joined them and said conversation had moved arbitrarily from one subject to the next before it had somehow led to Tai announcing that he was going to Ken's house after school and would Yamato and I like to come? Regardless of who had extended the invitation, I jumped at the chance to go to Ken's again. The place was like my second home and I was missing the feeling of being at home. I agreed before even stopping to consider.

"Oh sorry…I guess I should have asked you if that was okay first shouldn't I?" Tai said way too late, looking sheepishly at Ken.

Ken's smile was forced as he said his predictable, "No, it's fine," and I might have felt bad if I hadn't really wanted to go. But it's not as though Ken and Tai never see each other. It would hardly matter if a couple of people crashed. Ken's adaptable – I knew he'd live.

So there you have it. Exciting story, huh?

"I don't mind. Whatever anyone else feels like doing," I said in answer to Ken's question as Yamato and Taichi shrugged at the same time.

"Does anyone want anything to drink?" Ken asked hopefully. It makes him feel twitchy if there isn't something to occupy him.

"Nope, I'm fine," Tai said bluntly and Yamato's calm "No thanks," ruled him out too. Being the nice person that I am and also being in the middle of a dangerous mission to regain Ken's friendship, I took pity on him and said I was thirsty even though I wasn't. Now is that true friendship or is that true friendship?

"Hey, Tai," Yamato said, leaning over the arm of his chair and dragging his guitar case off the floor as I was standing up to accompany Ken to the kitchen, "You want to try that thing?"

Tai sat up instantly and swung his legs off the chair as smoothly as if he had been holding himself poised for such a motion from the second he sat down. "Sure!" he grinned, leaning forward eagerly in his seat as Yamato undid the clasps of the case.

"What thing?" Ken asked, stopping unexpectedly on his way across the sitting room and causing me to nearly fall over him.

"Oh, Matt said he'd teach me to play something. How fucking cool is that?" Tai blurted excitedly, watching Yamato lift his precious guitar from its case and hold it protectively.

I grinned at him indulgently. "Pretty fucking cool."

"It won't be 'fucking cool' at all if you break it. So don't." Yamato responded as Tai shuffled over to him.

Figuring they were happy enough to amuse themselves for a bit, I turned and made my way towards the kitchen, trying to think what would be the first topic of conversation I'd try on Ken. I'd just reached the kitchen door and settled on asking about Ken's next soccer match when I realised that he wasn't with me. He was still standing in the sitting room and watching blankly as Yamato slid out of his chair to join Tai on the floor, explaining as he did so all the things you had to do in order to not trash the guitar.

"Ken? You coming?" I asked brightly, wondering why he had spaced out like that. Probably over-worked, poor guy.

He blinked and stared at me in a subdued manner before nodding and following me into the kitchen. I figured I could maybe talk to Ken a bit, while Tai and Yamato were occupied, maybe try to gain some more of his trust, get him to open up a little, just like I had done the first time. Unfortunately for me, Ken didn't seem to be in any mood for talking. He was frowning to himself and had that kind of glazed look in his eyes that he gets when his brain wanders off to think about complicated things that nobody around him could ever properly understand.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Fine." Ken answered automatically as he opened a cupboard door; the one that I know contains the breakfast cereals and stuff. He frowned at the contents, closed the door slowly, then opened the right cupboard and removed two glasses.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. What do you want to drink?"

"Um…anything's fine. So…what…" Ken looked at me expectantly and suddenly I couldn't remember what I was going to ask him. I could hear wobbly guitar notes and the occasional burst of Taichi's familiar laughter coming from the other room.

"What…did…you do at school today?" I ended up saying. How lame. I sounded like my mother when she wants to talk to me just for the sake of talking.

Ken shrugged and turned to open the refrigerator. "Not much. You know, just school things. Work."

"Yeah. Work. I hate that."

"Mm. Is this okay?" Ken held up a jug of violently red fruit punch, only my favourite drink in the whole world. His mother makes it. I think I only like it so much because Ken's house is the only place you can get it. I'm difficult like that.

"Sure."

Ken carefully poured the punch, as one might measure out dangerous chemicals, and handed me a glass. I thanked him and leant back against the counter, sipping my drink thoughtfully.

"How long have you and Yamato been together now?" Ken asked suddenly, catching me off guard. I glanced up from my drink to find him looking at me, his eyes now clear and sharp in the way they are when they're skimming over a complicated maths problem.

"Um I don't know. A while, I guess."

Ken seemed to consider this information and then said,

"And when you did get together did it completely invert your whole relationship?"

"I…" I felt like I was being interrogated under a big white spotlight. "I don't know. I guess it changed a little but…I don't know. I can't remember."

"But if it did change," Ken pushed on, apparently not phased by the fact that I had evaded giving a decent answer, "then you don't regret it? Because change isn't always good, right? I mean theoretically change is natural and therefore unavoidable, but sometimes you just want things to stay the same, don't you?"

I have to say, this wasn't what I was expecting when I said I wanted to talk to Ken. I was thinking more…me talking. Not Ken asking random unexpected questions that I didn't know the answers to.  

"Well things have to change, sure. I know you hate change but most change is good."

"How do you know I hate change?" Ken asked immediately, giving me the strongest sense of deja vu. I wanted to yell, 'because I bloody well know you better than anyone else, alright?!' but instead I responded, equally quickly,

"Lucky guess. What's with all the questions?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"You're always thinking."

"So?"

"So...maybe you should spend less time thinking about things and actually learn to rely on your instincts. Then maybe you'd be happy doing what you want for a change."

"I am doing what I want. Whoever said I wasn't?"

"Nobody. Just...it just seems like that. I think you just shouldn't put so much faith in analytical thought and shit is all."

Ken paused and looked at me carefully, then frowned as if he hadn't noticed that he'd been talking to me and was surprised to find that he had been.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Hm," was the only response Ken made. He chewed his lip and fixed his eyes carefully on the refrigerator magnets, obviously thinking deep thoughts despite my advice. He was quiet for so long that I wondered if he'd somehow managed to pass out standing up and decided to say something before he fell down and choked on his own tongue like they tell you people do in first aid leaflets.

"So," I said, "This is nice, huh? All four of us spending some time together."

"Yeah," Ken, replied, albeit belatedly.

"I mean we hardly ever talk. It's cool to talk to someone new sometimes, don't you think?"

"I guess so."

"We should do more stuff together. Like, as a group. Because, I mean, Tai and Yamato seem to be getting on okay too."

"Yeah," Ken said, his face tightening slightly, "Let's go back in." He turned rather abruptly and practically marched out, leaving me to follow.

As we crossed over into the sitting room, the unsteady and halting notes that had been bouncing through the apartment suddenly melted into a fluid melody. Apparently bored with Taichi's staccato tune, Yamato had now taken over playing. The guitar still rested on Taichi's lap and Yamato was sitting behind him, legs sprawled out and arms reaching around Taichi as he plucked expertly at strings he couldn't see. The song was something old and American that I didn't recognise. I couldn't understand the words that Yamato was singing quietly over his playing, but the tune was mellow and pleasant, with a sharp edge to it. It made me think of warm yellows, frosty greens and thick, glossy oil paint. It made me think of citrus fruits.

Ken sat down slowly on the sofa and I followed suit. Yamato's eyes were cast down and so I couldn't tell if he was even aware that we had come back in. Dark, feathery eyelashes and slivers of blonde hair obscured the blue of his irises, but I imagined that they had taken on the same kind of glazed quality that Ken's did for serious thinking. There was something about his posture that suggested that even though he was here physically, Yamato's mind couldn't have been further away. He played as if there was nothing between him and the guitar, let alone another person. Taichi's eyes too, were aimed down, carefully watching Yamato's hands. He was uncharacteristically quiet and his eyelashes flickered as he blinked rapidly, trying to keep up with Yamato's fingers.

Glancing at Ken, I saw that at least he seemed to be looking straight ahead and actually aware of what was going on around him. But a second glance revealed that even if his eyes were visible, his stare was blank and he looked no more a part of reality than either of the others did. I don't know what he was thinking about, but as the music washed over us, Ken's frown was so deep that it seemed as though he might burst into tears at any moment.

I sat back in my chair, feeling strangely discontent, and thought of nothing.

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A/N: Ohh…I apologise deeply for this chapter. Studying Thomas Hardy is wilting my brain.