Author's Note: Uh...was I supposed to say something interesting? Um, here, I love Yama. That good enough? And oh, thanks for the feedback. /Author falls over sleeping/
Between Dawn and Death
"As long as you keep getting born, it's all right to die sometimes."
- Orson Scott Card, Speaker For the Dead
Chapter 3
"TK." Taichi didn't look surprised when he opened the door. But Takeru didn't expect him to.
"I'll go get Kari." The older boy turned to go.
"Wait." Takeru stepped into the apartment, bending down to untie his shoes. "I didn't come to see Kari today. I came to see you."
Now Taichi did look surprised. He raised an eyebrow.
"Your room, the kitchen, or the living room?" Takeru asked calmly.
"The kitchen," Taichi answered. His expression was troubled.
They made their way to the kitchen table. Taichi poured apple juice for the both of them, and they sat.
Takeru fixed Taichi with a serious gaze. "Onii-chan will kill me for this, but I cannot simply watch and do nothing. What I am doing now I do out of love for him. It is my duty, as his brother."
Taichi sipped his drink. "I'm listening."
"Yamato is in love with you."
There was a loud crash as the glass in Taichi's hand slipped and shattered on the tiled floor. Neither of them glanced at the spilled liquid. Taichi stared at Takeru, and Takeru stared right back.
"What?" Taichi whispered into the silence.
"You heard me."
Taichi closed his eyes. "He didn't tell me."
Takeru smiled bitterly. "He wanted you to be happy, with Sora."
There was understanding in Taichi's eyes. "I hurt him."
"You did."
"I'm still hurting him."
"You are. And I'm asking you to stop."
Taichi started to clean up the mess he'd made.
"I'm an idiot."
"Sometimes."
"Do you...forgive me?"
Takeru smiled. "There's nothing to forgive, Tai."
OOOOOO
He felt very thin, and not just physically. Ghost like. That's good. He reflected. Ghosts don't have hearts.
The phone calls and meetings had suddenly stopped. No more match making on Taichi and Sora's part. And now Taichi himself was in his apartment, in his room.
"So once again I get to speak to your back. What great honor you give me."
Yamato felt a feeble smile tug at the corners of his lips. Taichi being sarcastic? Yamato must have been a better teacher than he thought.
"Why are you here?"
A rustling of cloth behind him as Taichi shifted nervously.
"TK told me."
Of course. Little brother can't stay out of my business.
"He meant well, Yama. And in any case, I should be mad at you for not telling me yourself."
"I felt no need to complicate the situation."
"You felt the need to torture yourself, you mean."
Yes.
The silence that followed was deafening.
"I love Sora."
"I know."
Warm arms wrapped around his waist. Yamato breathed in Taichi's scent and tried not to cry.
"My best friend," Taichi whispered. "Always my best friend."
Yamato turned in Taichi's embrace, feeling the strong heart beats of the other boy.
No, he didn't think ghosts had hearts. But I have a heart, though I wish I don't.
OOOOOO
I'd put roses in his hair, red roses, of course. The thorns would make delicate lines across his white skin, to match them. He'd be beautiful. White, red, and gold. He's a piece of art, Ken. OUR piece of art.
Ours.
OOOOOO
"I finished reading a play today."
"And that's exciting because..."
"Sit still, Dai. I'm trying to confide in you."
"Wah?"
"You know, asking for support, advice, and talking for the sake of staying sane? It's what best friends do."
"...Whatever you say, Ken."
"Hikari's not looking at you, Dai. Eat your ice cream before it melts."
"But she knows I'm here. I waved."
"You are pathetic."
"Hmph."
"Anyway. About this play, this is the fourth time I've read it."
"...Why would you read a play more than once?"
"Because it's Shakespeare."
"Wait! I know that guy! You told me about that thing he wrote where this guy kills his father and marries his mother..."
"That's Oedipus, Dai. Sophocles wrote that one."
"Hmph. They are all strange."
"Now, to get to my point..."
"You had a point?"
"...Dai..."
"Okay, so you read this thing more than once. And?"
"I understand more now, about how everything is messed up beyond repair."
"Everything?"
"Lear had three daughters. Only one truly loved him, but he disowned her."
"That is messed up."
"You think so?"
"It's rather stupid of him."
"People do stupid things, Dai."
"Nah, not me. I'm too smart to do stupid things."
"So walking in a straight line while turning your head to stare at Hikari until you smack into a metal pole doesn't qualify as a stupid thing?"
"That doesn't count! It was an accident."
"Okay..."
"And if I ever had such a good daughter, I wouldn't be stupid enough to disown her."
"What if you didn't know which ones truly loved you? And she couldn't express herself with words?"
"I still wouldn't have done it."
"Sometimes, I wonder if things could be different."
"Yeah, like why couldn't she make a cake or something for him instead?"
"I mean, if I haven't done some of the things I did, would I be a different person? Would you?"
"And if she made it chocolate, then I'm sure he'd know she loved him the most..."
"You can never predict anything, and by the time you realize the danger, it's much too late..."
"I would like a chocolate cake."
"Lear had it easy."
"Oh? What happened to him?"
"He died..."
"Oh..."
"Dai?"
"Hmm?"
"Am I a bad person?"
"That's a stupid question."
"Really?"
"No one's all good, Ken. Not even angels."
"How do you know?"
"I just...know."
"Dai?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you ever hate me?"
"No."
"Even if I were to do something horrible?"
"No. Because I would know that once, for a time at least, you were a good person, and I thought of you as a friend..."
"Thanks, Dai..."
"No problem. Hey, there's a pretty dandelion over there. You think Hikari might like it?"
OOOOOO
It was late afternoon when Mr. Ishida got off a plane from Paris and called a taxi at the airport. He was a middle aged man made older by the permanent dark shadows under his eyes. His black hair had started to turn gray, though he hid the fact well with a limitless amount of hair dye.
He ran a hand tiredly over his brow, trying to remember what day it was. The taxi driver was kind enough to carry his luggage to the trunk and he slumped into the back seat.
"Where to, sir?"
He mumbled an address. Home, he realized with a pang, I'm going home.
But it didn't feel like home. He went there so rarely it felt more like a place, and he a stranger. Yamato, he reminded himself, I have a son.
Two sons, actually. One that he was not allowed to see, and one that he never sees.
Yamato only believed in Santa Clause for a day, because his father never told him, and because when he found out from a friend on Christmas eve that he should put out milk and cookies, his father wasn't there to eat them. There were no presents either.
"We are here, sir."
Sighing, Mr. Ishida paid the fee. He dragged himself up the stairway and into the apartment.
"Yamato?"
A thin lump uncoiled itself from where it rested on the couch. Mr. Ishida turned on a lamp and stared into Yamato's pale face.
"You are back early." His voice was hoarse.
Mr. Ishida reached out to touch Yamato's heated forehead.
"What's wrong? You seem sick."
"I'm fine."
I should have spent more time with you. You grew up before I could make time. You were out of my reach before I even thought of holding on.
"You finished that story in France already?"
"Yeah, but I have to go back to the TV station tomorrow."
Yamato adjusted himself so he was more comfortable sitting up.
"Of course."
There was an awkward silence in which he didn't know what to say.
"I didn't make supper," Yamato stated.
"It's all right. We can have take out."
"I haven't done laundry, either."
He stroked the golden locks hesitantly. "I'll get it later. You should rest."
"I can take care of myself!"
No, you can't. And I haven't been taking good care of you for years.
Mr. Ishida reached for the phone book to order some food, wondering all the while, when everything had gone wrong.
OOOOOO
Author's Note: And here I am, wondering when everything had gone so SO wrong with my Chem lab. I don't even have the right exponents for the Ksp values I'm supposed to estimate. Can experimental error get me out of this one? I am oh so screwed.
Rubisco. Is. An. Enzyme.