Author's Note: First of all, THANK YOU to all of those who reviewed. *feels all warm and fuzzy inside* I live on feedback, and the more reviews I get, the more I write *cough hint cough* As for the Taito thing, um, majority rules, so I guess this fic is now officially a Taito. Which leads us to....
The Standard Warning thingy: Blah blah blah yaoi stuff in this fic so PLEASE don't flame me because I'm warning you right now....blah blah blah yada yada yada...
In response to individual reviews:
shadow-seraph: Thanks for telling me about the anonymous review thing, I had no idea.
Burned Vamp: UPDATE YAMA SUTRA!! NOW!!! I'm still waiting for the next chapter....
Shi: Nope, no rape in this story...
And without further delay, we shall start with more angst and Yama goodness!
My Inferno
"Men great of soul can bear the blows of heaven and
not flinch."
He laughed a little at that.
"Theseus, you have no idea."
Yamato put the book aside and grabbed his coffee,
taking a sort of savage pleasure in the way the hot, black, and bitter
liquid burned his throat.
Still alive then, not dead, and this isn't
really hell, just life.
New lyrics? Ishida Yamato the poet?
Life sucked.
There was a knock on the door, "Ishida! Hurry
it up; it's almost time."
Ah yes, time to face the hundreds of screaming adoring
fans, time to let the world hear his voice once more. The only thing
was, he'd rather not.
Life really sucked.
He took a last look in the mirror before existing
the dressing room. He thought he looked okay, a bit pale, but otherwise
calm, in control.
As cold as ice.
They screamed when he strode on stage, eyes, so
many eyes on him. For a moment the mask faltered, and a little of
his tiredness showed through.
Only for a moment.
Clutching his guitar a little tighter, Yamato turned
to the rest of his band and nodded. It was going to be another long
night.
Should have taken more coffee...
***********************************
Yagami Taichi was bored.
He didn't understand Chemistry, never had, never
will, plus he didn't think his teacher liked him very much. It might
have something to do with that incident in the bathroom...
He hadn't meant to blow up the toilet.
Nobody had bothered to tell him about the nasty chemical reaction; he thought
he was making bubbles.
Bubbles and foam, what fun.
"Yagami."
Was it trouble he smelled? Probably.
"In light of recent events," the teacher said, one
eye twitching as she looked at him, "I've decided NOT to trust you to work
safely on your own."
Snickers from the class.
"And so, you will be assigned a partner for this
project. In fact, you will be working with Ishida Yamato."
The room was suddenly silent. Taichi became
very
aware of the many death glares sent his way, and not just from the girls.
Ishida Yamato, THE Ishida Yamato. Taichi tried
not to fall off his chair.
"The rest of you," continued the teacher, blissfully
unaware of the tension in the room, "may form your groups and get started."
Taichi watched in morbid fascination as the god
detached himself from his desk, strode over to a nearby chair, and dropped
himself into it with all the grace of the universe.
Icy blue eyes met his, and Taichi suddenly felt
cold.
"Which topics did you want to cover?"
No greeting, no introduction, no smile, nothing.
"Uh," Taichi tried desperately to remember which
unit they were doing.
"Do you even know what the project is about?"
"Well, not really..."
"I thought so."
*************************************
Get home, cook dinner, do laundry, clean bathroom,
finish Physics lab, study for Math test, write English essay.
Yamato took the stairs two at a time. There's
no way in hell he was getting all that stuff done, but Ishida Yamato was
incredibly stubborn, and he wasn't going to admit defeat until he absolutely
had to.
Still, band practice had gone over time and he was
horribly behind schedule.
Dinner, he thought frantically, fumbling
with his keys, dinner dinner dinner.
Father was going to be home any minute now, and
if dinner's not ready...
He pushed the thought away.
Yamato had rushed into the kitchen, and was just
putting a pot over the stove when he saw the note.
Father was gone...business trip...be back in one
week...
Seven whole days.
No need to cook dinner, no need to be afraid, no
need to feel his bones crack as his body was slammed repeatedly against
the wall...
And Yamato hated himself for feeling relieved, hated
himself for the weakness that made him sink slowly down to his knees, hated
being vulnerable, hated being hurt over and over again in so many different
ways.
There was no one to trust, nothing to cling to,
no where to be safe. It was like fighting an entire ocean that was
determined to drag him down, and each day only brought him a little closer
to drowning, a little closer to dying, without ever reaching that goal.
The world was cruel, so very cruel, to give him
this one week, to give him hope, to let him heal, mend, only to be broken
again, and again, and again.
If only he wasn't so damn proud, then maybe he could
end his life, end his pain. But his pride was all he had left, and
he wasn't going to throw it away, wasn't going to give the world the satisfaction
of knowing it had broken him, defeated him.
A deep, long sigh escaped him as he wrapped his
arms tightly around himself, offering what little comfort he could to his
own tortured body.
One week to get better, one week to rest, one week
to salvage what he could of his life.
Yamato reached out a hand to grab the edge of the
counter, pulling himself once more to his feet. Forget the homework,
the endless stream of Physics and Math; he was going to bed. He'll
take a sleeping pill if he had to for the dreams to go away, a shower if
that's what it'll take for his muscles to relax, but he was going to sleep.
And maybe, just maybe, he'll let himself live.
************************************
Yagami Taichi had always thought himself a natural
leader, had always prided himself on his ability to see through almost
anyone, had always delighted in the way people were willingly, helplessly,
drawn to him.
Which made it very difficult for him to understand
exactly WHY Ishida Yamato was ignoring him.
If Taichi didn't know better, he would have almost
sworn
the boy wasn't human. As far as looks go, Yamato was fire and ice
and everything else that made the world beautiful, but no one could possibly
be so empty of heart, so utterly devoid of emotion.
And now, glancing again in his companion's direction,
Taichi decided to take another brave stab at conversation.
"So, what did you think of the test in Chem?"
Yes, he, the greatest soccer star to ever walk in
this world, was reduced to talking about school, of all things.
Yamato shrugged, still studying a nearby post with
that calm, detached air of his, "Think I failed it."
Cold, arrogant, and cruel. Taichi decided
he didn't want to get too close to this strange creature, and unconsciously
took a step back.
Yamato's lips curved slightly, not nearly enough
to form a smile, but Taichi couldn't help thinking the blonde was glad
to have made him uncomfortable. It was almost like Taichi was being
pushed away on purpose.
Their bus finally came, and the two boys clambered
on with the rest of the crowd, Taichi keeping a careful eye on Yamato the
entire time.
It wasn't until later that Taichi's opinion of the
blonde began to change.
Maybe it was the quick, certain way Yamato moved
to let an elderly man take his own seat, maybe it was how he gripped that
metal bar far too tightly, as if letting go would make him fall, drop endlessly
downwards, and maybe it was the tiny ache inside Taichi's own chest that
told him he wanted to drown in those deep, ocean blue eyes more than anything
else, if only he could but catch a glimpse of the secrets they held...
Ishida Yamato was hiding something, and Taichi wanted
to find out why.
************************************
Author's Note: I'm stopping here. Why? Because I keep
re-reading this chapter from the beginning every time I write more, meaning
that I find something wrong with it like every few minutes. I have
picked it apart, put it back together, analysed it, ran comparisons between
it and chapter one and being a perfectionist is NOT helping me. So
before I go insane and decide I'm the world's most horrible writer and
trash everything I've written so far, (and I'm getting pretty close to
doing that) I'll start a new chapter where I CAN'T read the stuff written
here.
I am very critical of my own writing, and right now I absolutely HATE
this chapter, so I'm posting it before I change my mind. If you agree
with me, and think my writing is horrible, then by all means flame me,
just please please review. Because I need to know people are actually
reading this and want me to continue, or I might just end up trashing the
story completely.
Thanks for reading.
Rubisco