Howdy Peeps!! *does the 'I've finally gotten off my lazy ass and typed the rest of the second chapter' dance*  Wah!  *Aren't you so proud of me!!  Now, if your trying to save time, skip to the second half and start reading, but otherwise I suggest you read the whole thing because I've corrected a lot of stupid errors and I've added a couple extra hints as to what the hell is going on.  Please review!! If it doesn't let you review again would you be ever so nice to email me or to sign out then review.  Domo Arigato!!!

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Here Comes the Sun

(Revised Version)

By Nakago

          It was a bright and sunny day outside of the gothic church.  Birds were chirping, the air was sweetly scented, and no clouds marred the blue expanse above.   It was almost like a dream.  Yamato walked through the park, eyes closed, drowning in the beauty about him.

          He was jarred out of his sweet reality when the noises of hard labor reached his ears.  He reluctantly stepped of the soft turf and onto the rough cement sidewalk.  His eyes searched the road for the source of the disturbance. There. On the other side of the street a moving truck was parked in front of a large house.  People ran back and forth, like giant ants; carrying boxes and furniture to the house, and then scurrying back empty handed to start the whole process again. This demonstration of uniformity on such a relaxed and gorgeous day ruined the atmosphere that Yamato had been enjoying.

          Yamato shoved his hands deep into his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if to shield his self from such unity.  He shuffled down the street and around the corner, and down that street.  The last house on the left was the largest and the richest.  Yamato ducked his head, uncomfortable in the shadow of the mansion; he made his slow way up the driveway and to the front door.  After a moments searching he discovered his key in his back pocket. He slid the piece of metal into its partner and turned it, listening to the tumblers to fall in place.  He removed the key and opened the door just enough to slide his thin body in, closing it with a resounding thud that echoed in the big entryway.  Locking the door, he turned to begin his trek to discover his mother.

          He walked through about 3 sitting rooms, each patterned in the style of a different era, before he found his mothers hiding place.  She lay, reclined on a couch, in a white robe, black hair done up in a bun.  She chatted to one of her many acquaintances over the phoned, carrying on for quite longer than humanly possible about one color of nail polish.  Yamato stood in the doorway shifting from foot to foot as he waited for his mother to acknowledge his presence.

Eventually, the change of air pressure or something (might have been that there's only so much you can say about nail polish) caused her to look up and notice her son; She glared at him and quickly finished up her conversation before she hung up.

          "What are you doing," She snapped, "How dare you stand there and listen in to my conversations!" She rose from her couch as a serpent rises to attack.  She lifted one arched finger and pointed to the stairs behind her, "Go up to your room and amuse yourself with your little crayons."

          Yamato felt like he had been punched in his stomach.  He hadn't meant to be listening in to his mother's conversation, he had just wanted to tell her he was home, like he was supposed to.  He glued his eyes to his feet terribly confused.  How can I get in trouble if I'm supposed to be doing this?  Why would I be interested in her talk about nail polish?  Just because I paint it doesn't mean I like nail polish.  I HATE it!  It smells so weird!  And it's not my fault!!

          Yamato was tired of being docile and weak.  He wanted to be strong, like he used to be, when he was still here.  Slowly he raised his eyes from his feet, his confidence rising with his eyes.  After years of eye and confidence rising he stood up tall and stared his mother straight in the eyes.

          She raised one eyebrow at her son's new stance.  "Yes?" She drawled."

Yamato gathered himself and opened his mouth to tell his mother off once in for all.  When all of the sudden the phone rang.  His mother glanced at the caller ID, then leaped at the phone with a call of joy, "Hey baby, " She squealed, " I didn't know that you'd be back in town his early.  Ohhh!!!  WOW, I'm coming over right now, k?  All right Sweetie, I'll see you in a moment."  She hanged up and jumped to her feet, she slipped off her white robe to revel a sleek black miniskirt and tank top.  She walked past Yamato and called over her shoulder, "Close your mouth.  You look even more like a fish when it's open."  With that she grabbed her keys and breezed into the garage to collect her car.

          Yamato closed his mouth with an audible snap.  All the confidence that he'd gathered drained out of him with his mother's carefree behavior.  Dejectedly he climbed the stairs to his room, he entered and snatched his lighter off his desk before he closed the door behind himself.  He lit the lighter and looked around his room, a low ceiling attic that spanned the entire top floor of the house.  The highest point was eight feet, and the lowest was six and a half, but that was ok.  He wasn't that tall, and it made it easier to paint.  And paint was what he did for most of the time he was in his room.  He painted his memories on the ceiling so he could stare up at them as he laid waiting for sleep to claim him.

          Yamato relit the lighter and walked around his room, lighting over a hundred candles.  Their soft glow turned the plain, black, windowless room into a warm hole, and gave the ceiling a life of it's own.  With a combination of smooth and rough strokes, Yama sketched the memories he had recalled in the church.  Though he remembered faces and images perfectly, he could never remember names.  There was only one name he still recalled, but he no longer had a use for it, for gone was the bearer.

          Yamato finished the rough sketch and went over to a bookshelf filled with different paints.  With the speed of much practice, he mixed the colors he needed in cups and placed them around the edges of his rolly platform.  He moved the platform into place and climbed upon it and lay down on his back.  He grabbed a brush, dipped it in flesh colored paint, and then he painted.

          The candles rarely flickered, giving of a pure, even light.  Yamato's world narrowed to his arms rise and fall and to the ceiling above him.  With smooth strokes, Yamato brought his past to life.  It picked him up and engulfed him, sinking into his every pore, ensuring that he'd always remember it.  His past held him for hours, 'till one too many candles burned out and cast his world into shadows.

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          Yamato slowly lowered his arm as he realized he could no longer see what he painted.  He could have continued.  The picture was burned into his mind; he could easily finish it in the dark.  But Yamato enjoyed watching what he painted go from globs of unconnected paint to beautiful pictures (you can tell he loved connect the dots when he was younger.) Also his arm had begun to protest violently at the thought of starting to paint again.  He chuckled weakly, and climbed stiffly of the scaffolding.  He removed his clothing, which magically didn't have any paint on them, put out the remaining candles, and slipped into bed.

          He rolled over to check his digital clock, which he usually kept covered so it wouldn't disturb him.  He removed the cloth and the numbers 3:17 blinked brightly at him.  He groaned and dropped the cloth, plunging the room back into complete darkness. 

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          Applause filled the church as Yamato played the last measure of the opening song.

          The priest nodded sagely at him and began his sermon his soft droning voice that some how managed to fill the church.

          Yamato relaxed, stretching his fingers to make sure they didn't cramp.  Crossing his leg on the piano bench, Yama closed his eyes and listened to the sermon about remembering people you had met long ago.  Lights danced on the backs of his eyelids, making random patterns.  Slowly they began to form a picture of an old childhood friend of his.

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          The sun beat down on them from above.  Even the sky look faded compared to the suns brilliance.  The town was barren of life, as everything that could move had sought the shelter of air-conditioned homes in the heat of the day, except for to lone boys lying in the park.  Stretched out in the grass in the shade of a tree was a pale skinned boy, who amazingly was not burned yet, and his dark skinned friend who was tossing his soccer ball up and down.

          "Come on Yama," begged the boy, catching his ball and turning on his side to face his friend, "You'll really like soccer, just give it a chance."  He surveyed his friend's body while he waited for an answer. Yama was dressed in black leather almost-booty shorts and a black tank top.  He personally thought that his friend was mad for wearing black all the time, and told him so quite often, but that never changed Yama's mind.  He on the other hand was wearing brown khaki shorts of a lightweight material and a blue shirt.

          Yama opened his eyes and gave his friend a death glare.  "It's the middle of the day, I'm not going to run around and work up a sweat just on the off chance that I might enjoy soccer." He pointedly ignored his friends pleading looks and closed his eyes

          After a little while the dark skinned boy, who had hair like a bush, stood up and started bouncing the soccer ball on his head.  After a few moments of doing that he started to sing.

"I'm happy, feeling glad.

I've got sunshine, in a bag.

I'm useless, but not for long.

The future is coming on."

          Yamato opened his eyes wide and stared at him in surprise for a long moment as the bush boy repeated the song. 

          "What the HELL," Yamato finally managed to gasp out between fits of laughter.

          The brunette just smiled; he let the ball drop to the ground and started kicking it around while repeating the song over and over.

          Yamato relaxed in the grass enjoying watching his friend have fun.  He was really enjoying himself with…

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          One of the doors of the church banged open, and everyone turned around in their seats to look.  In came an interesting looking family, well in Yamato's opinion interesting, to everyone else they looked quite normal; A middle aged mother and father, and two teenage kids.  The kids really got his attention though.  The girl was wearing a bright pink sleeveless shirt with white gloves that went up past her elbows, and white short shorts.  The girl was a little shorter than her brother, who appeared to be about Yamato's age.  The boy, who had hair like a brown bush, wore khaki shorts and a blue shirt, very similar to the boy in his memories.  Both of the kids seemed very familiar, the boy even more so than the girl.  And then it dawned on Yama who it was…

          "Taichi," Yama whispered, uncrossing his legs and partially rising from the bench.

          Taichi turned his head to stare at him as if he had heard Yama's faint whisper.  Something seemed to pass between them in that moment when their eyes met for the first time in over five years.  But before Yama could ID it the moment had passed and time continued.

          The new family filed in to the last row and sat down.  The priest cleared his throat and continued his interrupted sermon.  Yama sat back down and dragged his eyes away from his old friend and tried to turn his attention back to the pastor.

But his attention kept fluttering back to the boy in the last row.  What was he doing here?  Why was he back?  Yamato shook his head free of these thoughts long enough to play the last song, but then the boy was swirling through his mind, leaving behind a mess of emotions and thoughts.  He sat on the piano bench for a few minutes trying to collect the scattered bits of his mind when a tap on his shoulder spun him around.  There standing in front of him was his childhood friend, Taichi.

          "Pink."

          Yama tilted his head to the side, confused.

          "Your shirt, it's pink," Taichi said.

          Yamato looked at his attire, which was a washed-out pink shirt and white pants.  Yamato shrugged.

          Taichi just shook his head in mock pain, "Long time no see, huh." Taichi started twirling his soccer ball on his finger.

          "Yeah.  Long time…" Yamato trailed off.  Not quite sure what to say to his old friend.

          "Well it's good to see you doing alright," a new voice said, intruding into their conversation.

          Yama turned to look at Taichi's younger sister who stood with her hands on her hips.

          "Our parents are friends again."  She waved in the direction of their parents who were all chattering quite happily.

          Yamato's mother looked up from the gaggle and motioned him to come over.  The children wandered over to their parents, listening in with little interest.  Yamato's mother reached over and dropped her arm around Yamato's shoulders, pulling him to her side.

          "Yes," she said continuing her early conversation; "Yamato is now in the church choir and often plays the piano when the pianist is busy."

          "Oh, that's wonderful!" Taichi's mother said smiling at him.  "It's good to see that you've turned over a new leaf!" Yama smiled tentatively at her as she turned back to his mother.  "How about we send the kids off to play in the park as we get together over supper?"

          Yama's mother happily agreed, and the adults left, leaving the kids to make there way to the park.  Yamato seemed to brighten the second his mother was gone.  They got half way to the park, with Taichi playing with his ball and chatting about marshmallows, when Tai's sister turned and walked off without uttering a word. 

          Taichi shrugged at her odd behavior, "The accident affected her badly."

Yama nodded, though he wasn't quite sure what accident Tai meant. Yamato didn't mind, anyways, he wanted some to be alone with Taichi, to catch up. 

"So you moved to the city after the accident?" Yama asked as they continued their walk.

          Taichi shrugged, "It's pretty boring there." He dropped his soccer ball on the ground and began to kick it around.  He dribbled it for a bit as the walked along, then he kicked it to hard, on purpose, and had to give chase.

          Yamato smiled, this was one of the things he had missed the most about Taichi.  He loved his childlike innocence and constant happiness.  "Did you make any new friends," Yamato called after him.

          Taichi dribbled the ball a bit before answering, "Yeah, a couple.  They were mostly on my soccer team."

          "No friends from school?"

          "I don't socialize much." Taichi kicked the ball in the air and started bouncing it off parts of his body.

          Taichi turned to Yamato, still keeping the ball in the air.  "Let's walk, I wanna hear about your life."  Taichi let the ball drop to the ground and started dribbling it towards a stand of trees in the middle of the park.

          Yamato quickly followed.  Propelled by his curiosity and a budding feeling in chest.

          "Come on."  He said, beckoning Yama.  Taichi politely held aside a branch so I could slip past.  It was a small entrance, and Yama's arm brushed against Taichi's, it went all tingly and Yama felt a little light headed.  What's wrong with me, Yama thought, Am I coming down with something?

          It was very dim and quiet within the sparse forest, making it easy to forget the outside world, the world of pain and despair and heartache.

          "I like it in here," Yama murmered into the still air. 

          "Yeah, it's almost like we're in our own universe."

          How close his thought mirrored mine, Yama thought with surprise.  He turned his head just in time to catch a glimmer Tai's smile.  He felt the blood rushing to the skin on his face.  "Um...  Tai, where are you taking me?"

Tai's response was to reach back for Yama's hand and squeeze it.  "Come" he said simply. 

          They walked for a few more minutes, changing directions randomly until they wandered into a small clearing liberally strew with rocks.  Taichi sat down in front of a large boulder, shifting till his back was held by the rock instead of jabbed.  He extend his hand to Yamato and Yama hesitantly took it; sitting down on the ground, gingerly, for fear of retaliation.  They sat without moving, attuning themselves to each other in away that dated back to early childhood.  Their only parts touching were their hands, loosely clasped and lying lightly on the ground, between them.  The silence between them lengthened, not deepening, staying light.  After a few moments, almost on reflex, Taichi began to play with Yama's fingers. 

          Yama began to relax, the peaceful surroundings and the quiet air bent to woo him into semi consciousness.  And still, when a slight tickling feeling began in his chest, much unlike a cough, he stayed serene.  But abruptly, as he realized that this new sensation was caused in someway by Taichi, it changed from something to contemplate and puzzle to one to fear and ignore.  Taichi seemed to sense his internal conflict and stopped his playing just as Yama jerked his hand away.

          "I'm sorry," Yama murmured, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arm around them.

          "No, my fault." Taichi said leaning back, resting his head on a little stone ledge, and folding his hands on his lap.

          There was silence again.  Not the comfortable, warm silence of before but a tense brittle thing that could snap at a moments notice.  But Taichi quickly ended the silence before it got that point.

          "So…" He trailed off, normal Taichi articulacy at work.  "What have you been doing?"

          Yama was sort of startled by the comment, he wasn't expecting it, no one ever asks him how he's doing, the always ask his mom.  There for his answer was the complete truth.

          "Oh…  Um…  Painting."

          "Really!"  Asked Taichi, his interest seemed to be caught.

          "Um, yah."

          "That's great!  What do you paint?  Still life?  Scenery?"

          Once again Yama was caught off guard, "Yesterday."

          "Yesterday?  How can you paint yesterday?" asked Taichi, completely baffled.

          "You can't, well, not easily.  What I meant to say was the past."  Yama answered, smiling at Tai's child like confusion.

          "Oh, ok."  Taichi said, happy again, "Can I see them sometime?"

          Again, with the taking off guard, never before had any one asked to see his pictures.  He really wanted to say no, fearing what Taichi would think of them but looking at Taichi with his wide hopeful eyes (that very much reminded him of a puppy dog), there was only one way he could reply…

          "Yes."

          Taichi face broke out into a broad grin, immediately quelling any of Yama's doubts.

          Suddenly, Tai's attention was distracted and he looked up at the trees covering them, peering intently before looking back down at his watch.  Still smiling he stood and offered his hand to Yama.  Yama tilted his hand and stared at the hand for a moment.

          "Come on Yama," Tai said grinning roguishly, " I won't bite."

          Yama blushed a bit at that, but quickly reached up and grasped Taichi's hand anyway.  Taichi quickly pulled him to his feet with one smooth movement, and continued to hold his hand as he pulled Yama along behind him.

          "Um…  Where are we going?"  Yama asked for the second time that day, stumbling a bit on the hidden snares of tree roots and rocks.

          "Your house," Taichi replied matter-of-factly, "your moms gonna start to worry if you don't get home soon.

          "Oh."

They broke out of the mini forest on the street side, and broke into a slow trot across the street.  The walked slowly down the street in the fading twilight.  The soft indecisive colors soon gave way to night, and a brilliant fool moon climbed swiftly into the sky.  Right as the moon reached it's pinnacle the arrived at their destination; Yama's front steps.  Doused in ethereal beauty, Taichi and Yama stood staring at each other on the doorsteps to the mansion.  The moon was working it's magic on them, with all its power.

          Finally Taichi sighed, breaking the stillness of the night.  "I must go." He whispered.  He squeezed Yama's hand, then reluctantly let it go as turned to leave.  He got down three whole steps before he flung himself back around and ran back up to Taichi's side.  Time stopped and watched with interest as Taichi once again engulfed a pale hand with his tan one.  Taichi jerked his hand slightly and Yamato moved one hesitant step forward, the feelings in the air goading him on.  Taichi leaned forward, bridging the gap between them in one unending moment, which ended as he planted a soft kiss upon Yama's cheek.

          Taichi let go of Yama's hand and with a farewell smile, he ran down the steps and into the darkness that engulfed him like he never existed.

          Yama stood on the steps stunned.  Slowly his hand went to his cheek, and a smile split his lips.  Yamato turned and entered his house, closing the door behind him, softly.

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That is the longest chapter I have every written, but next chapter will be even longer (I think).  So please review, and if you want me to email you when the next chapter is up, leave you address.  K? K!!!