Muse

Disclaimer: Digimon is not mine.

A/N: My fic to dispel the dreaded Writer's Block has become an entity on its own…what have I done??

…thanks to the reviewers!

~*~

Sora:

Unfinished math homework sits on my desk. I've been getting behind in my homework. I can't help it though; lately every time I'm free I find my thoughts straying to him.

Him. Or rather, Ishida Yamato. He's supposed to be a friend, but right now, I wish he was something more. Yeah, that's right. I have a crush on Yamato, only the most popular boy in school. He has legions of fangirls who swoon when he walks past; his locker is constantly surrounded by ditzy girls just dying to touch him and he's been one of my best friends since forever.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

I'm sure there's a rule about this somewhere, you're not supposed to fall for your best friend. What if it doesn't work out? Where do you go from there? Can you even recover your friendship after that?

A sigh slips past my lips, I really think about this way too much. As far as I know, this is completely one sided. Yamato has never given me what could be termed 'special attention', at least, not in public.

It's good in a way. I definitely don't have the patience to deal with his thousands of fans, and I've seen how some of his fangirls treat the girls Yamato pays attention to. It's not pretty. Heck, it's downright vicious. I've seen those girls run off crying while those bullies who love Yamato so much stand there and smile. It makes me sick.

One day I'm going to have to tell Yamato about the little wars he manages to instigate.

The point is, Yamato has all these girls throwing themselves at his feet. Why would he pick me? I spin around in my chair and study my reflection in the full-length mirror on the wall. Shoulder length coppery-red hair, cinnamon eyes that I've always thought were too far apart, and a mouth that curves into a too-wide smile. My figure is completely average and when it comes to dress sense, I'm pretty much a tomboy. Other than my school uniform I don't wear many skirts and people are more likely to see my in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Okay, so I'm being shallow. I'm assuming that Yamato would choose a girlfriend strictly on a looks basis, and that's not true. Yamato's got more sense than that. The thought gives me a little hope, but it dies just as quickly. Because I know that to him, I'll always be a friend, one of the digidestined team. I don't think he'll ever see me as anything more.

That's the hard part though, isn't it? Because I want him to see me as something more. Sometimes, when I'm sitting in that too-crowded cafeteria in school I pick out the couples around me and wish that they were the two of us. Holding hands, whispering together, sharing secrets and stories that no one else would understand. But even I know that wishes like that don't come true.

It doesn't stop me from wishing though.

I don't get it. There are so many other guys in school, why Yamato? Why not even Taichi, my best friend from so many years ago? It sounds corny, I know, but somehow, I just feel like I know Yamato, inside and out. I understand him. I understand why he feels like he has to protect Takeru from the hurts of the world, I understand why he's so driven to make a name for himself; I understand why he's so stubborn, why he never lets anyone help him.

There's a photo on my desk. It's of the digidestined, taken not so long ago in the digital world. There he is, standing right next to me. He has that half-smile on his face. The one that says "I'm too cool for this photo but I'll let you take it anyway".

It's a funny smile. Because I know that deep down inside, he doesn't feel cool. I know that the coolness is just a front. He's human; he hurts the same as I do. I wish he'd be more open about it, even if just to me. I wish he'd see that I understand how he feels. That he feels like he's never good enough. I understand, because I feel the same.

I'm not as cynical as he is, especially not about love. I have the crest of love after all. But sometimes it's hard for me – even me! – to believe in that. I haven't seen love that lasts a lifetime. Or at least, not the kind of love I'm thinking about. My parents love me, but their love for each other died a long time ago. I hate it, but it's true.

That's why I'm scared. I'm scared to let him know how I feel, sacred to let anyone know. It's silly, but I think they'll all laugh at me.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could hold his hand. I wish I could brush that really annoying lock of blonde hair out of his eyes. I wish I could tell him. I do. I do and I don't.

There's a knock at my bedroom door and soon after my mother pokes her head in the room. "Sora, its dinner time, hurry up." She smiles, closing the door again. I look over at the unfinished math homework and sigh.

Great, I did it again.

~*~

A/N: Yes, I realize how long it's been and I realize that most of you will have forgotten about me. Don't get too excited, I just felt like writing all of a sudden, that's all. *^^* If this carries on it'll be 10 years before I finish anything. There may or may not be a third part to this (do you trust me??) In any case, comments would be appreciated…greatly appreciated. So leave a review or something.

Thanks to: All the people who kept up with the reviews even when I took my "leave of absence" so to speak. This one's for all you guys. I can't promise there'll be much else, but I'll try. Also, for lunita, because she talked to me and made me think about what it would be like to write again. Go read her fic guys, it's good.

© 2003-05-05

Abi