05 It's Always Darkest Before It Turns Pitch Black
Daisuke almost didn't recognize Ken when the boy stepped off the train, and when he did, he did a startled double take, eyes wide. "Holy—wow."
The rest of the welcoming party, which consisted of Miyako and Takeru, turned, saw, and promptly assumed satisfied and astonished expressions, respectfully. The blonde gaped shamelessly at Ken's attire. On anyone else, it wouldn't have been nearly as weird. But for Ken, who was a little shy about showing off his body, the clothes were startling – the slim fitting black tank top, army boots, low jeans. Tossing Miyako a glance from the corner of his eyes, Takeru wasn't surprised to see a pleased curve settling on her lips. He didn't know how she did it, but it figured that she'd be able to set Ken up to something like this.
Ken didn't seem very comfortable himself, looking around the station in the familiar way people did when they didn't want to be seen, let alone recognized. When he finally caught sight of Daisuke and the others, he hurried over, a small flush rising to his cheeks when he noticed the looks he was receiving. "Hello," he greeted breathlessly, rubbing his bare arms awkwardly.
"Um," Daisuke said, still staring.
"Hi," Takeru added, filling the pause as Daisuke picked his jaw up off the ground. "You look good. Different. But… good."
Ken looked relieved. "Really?" He gestured towards Miyako, who blew him a kiss in response. "She picked out the outfit and threatened me into wearing it. It's awkward, embarrassing, stupid, and someday I'll get you back for this." Takeru had to blink a few times before he realized that the other boy had abruptly stopped talking to him and began addressing Miyako instead.
Oh yeah. He felt the love.
"You'll thank me later," the girl said easily. "We should get going. Everyone's waiting for us. Besides, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get to the cafe, the sooner we can see the Wolves' concert, the sooner you guys can get to whatever you're doing after it." Her emphasis was hard to ignore or misunderstand.
Ken sighed, obviously not wanting to be reminded about his little set-up date, while Daisuke promptly forgot about his best friend's outfit and smiled dreamily instead.
It took all of Takeru's willpower not to bang his head against the nearest hard, flat surface.
Iori stared at Ken, then at Takeru. "What is he wearing?"
Takeru shrugged helplessly.
Iori kicked the sidewalk. "Stupid Miyako-san."
Gathering together, and successfully pissing off the people who were trying to walk around them, the Chosen huddled together for a head count. (Daisuke huddled particularly close to Yamato, and Ken was, in turn, shoved ungracefully into his best friend.) Three people missing.
"Jyou's college-browsing in Kyoto, Mimi's still in the States, and Hikari's sick in bed," Taichi said. "Her boyfriend has the flu and she went to visit him yesterday, but then she caught it from him, the bastard—" Following was the typical protective brother rant, in which Yamato nodded sympathetically, interrupting with a few of his own experiences with Takeru. The younger blonde turned bright red.
Daisuke threw an arm around Takeru's shoulders and made an off-handed comment about what a great brother Yamato must make. In turn, the other boy jabbed his friend in the side roughly and mentioned something about what a great corpse he would make. After all, his thick skull would look just stunning with the basement decor. Daisuke got the hint and shut up quickly.
The group of nine managed to make it to the cafe without much of a problem, despite Miyako's constant tripping that sent Ken flying into Daisuke's chest, and the looks Yamato would send sometimes that made Iori smile into the palm of his hand.
All in all, nothing too extraordinary.
Getting seated ended up being a bit of a hassle, however. They had to push two tables together, and even that left them with only eight seats. After a little arguing, they (or rather, Miyako) decided that Daisuke and Ken should share a seat. The original suggestion had been for Ken to sit on Daisuke's lap, but the amount of protest had been incredible, so the girl had to settle for the two of them both taking half of the chair. Close enough.
Not everyone was as pleased with the arrangements, however. Iori was annoyed, and expressed this by stabbing at his napkin with a fork, while Yamato bit his lip and tried not to stare at the pair sitting across from him. Takeru just really wanted the day to be over.
But the awkward atmosphere was soon forgotten as conversation picked up. Miyako went to fetch them food and some drinks, and Iori's napkin was spared as he turned his attention back onto Yamato and Daisuke. Hida Iori was not a quitter.
"Yamato-san," he turned to the older boy sitting next to him and began in the most unassuming, innocent way, "have you had any girlfriends lately?"
Yamato blinked. Ken and Daisuke did also. " Not lately."
"Okay. Any boyfriends?"
"Um, no."
Iori looked thoughtful. "Is that because you haven't found anyone yet, or are you just not interested in the male population?"
By now, Daisuke was listening eagerly. Yamato, on the other hand, looked rather uneasy, unsure of how to answer. He wasn't about to admit his tiny, miniscule crush on Daisuke in front of Daisuke. No matter how small he thought it was. "Um... the first one?"
"So that means you have nothing against dating guys?"
"Where are you going with this?" Yamato demanded, but sighed when Iori stared back seriously. "Um, yeah. Nothing at all. Guys. Whoo."
Daisuke couldn't help but look deliriously happy. His smile quickly disappeared, though, when Iori decided to turn to him next. "What about you, Daisuke?"
A confused look. "Um," Daisuke said intelligently.
Iori explained slowly, "Are you dating anyone?"
"No! No." Daisuke shook his head rapidly, eyes flickering towards Yamato. "No. Single. Guys and girls. I enjoy long walks on the beach and romantic—" He paused. "Ken, what are you doing?"
Ken frowned. "Nothing."
"You keep rubbing against me."
"I'm uncomfortable! We're sitting too close, and—Daisuke, stop touching me there—"
"You're sitting on my hand!"
"Christ, just…"
Iori rubbed his forehead. It wasn't supposed to be like that. What happened to dramatic confessions on tabletops? It had worked out so well in his head.
By now, the rest of the group was staring. An uncomfortable silence followed, in which Iori went sullenly back to his napkin, Daisuke got his hand free, Yamato ran his fingers through his hair nervously, and Takeru buried his head in his hands. Taichi cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried to think of something to say that didn't involve sticking his foot in his mouth.
Much to their relief, Miyako chose this time to reappear, a tray of drinks balancing in her hands and a suspiciously cheerful smile on his lips. Approaching the joint tables quickly, she was just a few feet away from reaching them when she hooked one of her feet over the other's heel, tripping over herself and doing a good job of making it seem like an accident. As she stumbled forward in Ken and Daisuke's direction, the tray lurched, drinks knocking against each other precariously. Another shaky step sent the drink on the farthest edge falling off the tray, contents spilling over whoever was unlucky enough to be in the way.
Ken saw Miyako loose her balance first and immediately tried to scramble out of range, managing to get away without as much damage as his best friend, who could only blink as his shirt and hair suddenly became drenched in some nameless soda.
There was a threatening silence as all eyes focused on the trio. Daisuke was breathing deeply, as if trying to calm down before he jumped at someone's throat, and Ken wore the same familiar blank look that usually signified death in the near future. As for Miyako, she looked far too pleased for someone who was about to be decapitated. Finally, the girl clasped a hand over her mouth, the other one still clasped solidly on the tray, much to everyone else's relief. Placing it on the table gingerly, she was quick to apologize. "Oh my god! Um, look, I'm really sorry — it was a total accident, I'm such a klutz."
Ken touched the soda-drenched tips of his hair distastefully before reaching for a napkin to clean off his arm. "Sure," he said dryly. Beside him, Daisuke's fingers clenched, unclenched.
"Why don't you two go to the bathroom to clean up?" Miyako offered.
"Yeah," Daisuke grumbled, getting up from his seat. "Come on, Ken."
Iori's eyes widened in realization. As an irritated Daisuke began pulling Ken out of their seat, the younger boy promptly kicked Takeru in the shin, jerking his head in their direction. "Do something!"
"Ow! Me?" Takeru whispered back fiercely. What had he done in his past life to deserve such abuse? "Why not you?" His only answer was another kick. Swearing under his breath, he raised his voice and suggested loudly, "Hey, 'niichan, why don't you go with them?" Now all eyes had turned to him. Takeru swallowed nervously. "You know, help out with their hair and stuff. You're supposed to be good with hair things or something, right?" Stuff. Or something. You're a smooth operator, Takaishi.
Luckily, Yamato wasn't one to doubt his little brother. He got up slowly. "I guess..."
Miyako didn't get a chance to butt in before the three of them headed off. Immediately pinning her glare on Takeru, she grabbed a plastic fork. "Can I speak with you, Takaishi? In private?"
Takeru tugged on Iori's sleeve, panicked. Iori just shrugged hopelessly. "I'm sorry," he said.
The blonde was dragged out of the cafe, struggling. "Iori, crap, Iori help me—"
Sora and Koushirou could only watch, afraid to interfere.
A sudden sound averted their attention to Taichi, who had apparently made a habit out of falling out of chairs. The boy grasped onto the edge of the table helplessly, explaining between breathless laughter, "Yamato, Daisuke — bathroom — oh god, this is fantastic —"
The three sane Chosen exchanged looks.
"So..."
"Right..."
"She can't win," Iori said to himself, "Takeru and I will never let her win. Even Miyako-san doesn't have the right to stand between two people in love!"
Okay, maybe only two remaining sane Chosen. Sora and Koushirou glanced at each other again.
"So..."
"Right."
Sometimes, ignorance was bliss.
