Written 25.o2.o8

THANKS to little0maggie, the-lionness, AnimePinkCess, Waltz Turner, Rewind Soldier, nickygirl, crest of music Mrs. Radcliffe 13, Yamora Love n Friendship, Phoenixe825, TheWitchLady and SpiffyCookie

(a/n) ONLY this chapter is classified as M.

This has to be my record update for this story.

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My Funny Valentine

Chapter Fourteen

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The taxi driver held out his hand for the payment. Without a second thought Yamato hastily handed out the first note of his leather wallet. The driver refused the one hundred dollar note at first, but Yamato insisted by simply getting out of the cab and showing off a reassured wave. The lead singer hadn't bothered to ring up Jyou to take him to his destination because whenever it came down to heightened emergency he, like any other person, had tossed all common sense out of the window.

When he had gotten Takahashi's call, he knew there was some sort of trouble. The urgency in his tone, the quivering in his voice at 4o'clock in the morning was enough to be aware that something was not right. Also, taking into consideration, Takahashi wasn't one for being disturbed in those hours since he was a hard sleeper. Something must have ploughed his head in to cause him to be awake at that time. The first word he said was Akira. With that name being spoken, Yamato immediately was out of bed and dressed into a shirt and a pair of jeans lying around on his bedroom floor. By then Takahashi had managed to briefly spit out that there was bad news and that he had to get to Akira's house as soon as possible – which he did. Since Takahashi didn't go into depth with the bad news, Yamato was going to figure it out.

It was nearing 5 in the morning now. His eyelids were half closed as he squinted to absorb the situation. From the street being usually solitary and empty at this usual time, it was filled with the notorious paparazzi and anchormen seeking a good story. Hell, he didn't even know what the story was about himself. He brushed himself through the throngs of people…and then he heard the auditory sound becoming permanently implanted into his senses.

Sirens…

An ambulance was now present as the scene. He could feel his pulse rate increasing and his breath turning into rapid gasps. Flashing lights blinded him and he felt his body being dragged through the throngs of people watching on like it were some bloody rock concert. Yamato then felt like a cold sandstorm had hit him. He had been so caught up in the situation that it hadn't hit him that it was still pouring sheets of rain from the previous night. Odaiba was still immersed in the gloomy weather – his mood being true the weather itself. His arms folded to keep his body evaporating heat.

As he advanced into the middle inner-working of the whole commotion a familiar voice screeched over the hectic atmosphere. "LET HIM THROUGH!"

The media turned to face his direction, but he dodged them as he headed to where the voice screamed from and saw Kanji looking at him with an expression he had never seen on him before – pure frightening panic. Somehow he remained composed, but there was no denying that something had shifted his emotions. His manager handed him a coffee that warmed his hands but he didn't have the strength and appetite to take a sip. His stomach was doing somersaults of anxiety. He caught sight of his fellow other members of the band. Takahashi was there, pale as snow as he gripped onto his coffee tightly in a dazed like state. Yutaka was furiously badmouthing the media through fierce teeth and taking swipes at all the cameras that blocked his way. But somehow Yamato could distinguish in his anguish cries that he had tears on his cheeks combining with the raindrops. There was a dramatic movement when he threw his the hot contents of his styrofoam coffee cup onto one of the news reporters. Kanji was already taking control and getting a hold of him.

Takahashi was now standing beside him and shaking. "What happened?" Yamato questioned but wasn't entirely looking forward for his answer. Before his shaken up friend was about to respond he then saw it…

Two paramedics carried a fragile unconscious body to the vehicle. He saw blood. He saw a lot. And he couldn't take it anymore. He was hyperventilating, but in a split second it felt as if he couldn't breathe. It felt as if it took much energy to take a single breath. He stood frozen in place as they diligently placed his body into the vehicle and shut the door. He heard someone screaming.

"Get a grip. Hold yourself together, man," Yutaka said, shaking his shoulders. It was strange being advised that from someone who had quite the temper himself. "You're yelling."

It had been him yelling?

"He's dead," he replied bluntly. "Akira…he's dead."

"He's not. Well…not that I know off…we don't have any confirmation," Kanji had joined the duo now, arms intertwined under each other as he watched the ambulance speed off to the closest hospital. His voice was in a decibel lower to his normal speaking volume but has his usual authoritative twang to how he spoke, "Go home. I want you boys home."

"But Akira! We have to go to the hospital," Yamato objected. "We can't-"

"You all need to go home and stay calm. They won't allow all of us there. I'll go," he said firmly as if he was closing a negation deal between two major lead companies. "I'm going there now. I'll dial up each one of you when I get updated. You all need your rest. Now scram!"

Yamato didn't know whether to admire his manager or to sock him in the gut. But he spoke logically and he knew that even how harsh Kanji could be, he always did was best for the band. Yutaka growled, storming away while taking even more swings at people who crossed his way. Yamato numbly took out his mobile to call another cab when Kanji slapped his back. "Takahashi will take you home."

The ride back where he came from was silent. His clothing stuck to him like glue but didn't bother to think about it. "What the hell happened, Takahashi."

The driver was silent for a bit, coming up with the correct words to say. "He was high. He rang me up," the guitarist cleared his throat. "And then he starting mumbling words I couldn't comprehend. Something about jumping off…suicide. I don't know. Just from that thought of action…it scared the fuck out of me. I just knew I had to go to his apartment as soon as possible."

"And then?"

He straightened his posture and said, "I was already in the car driving – you know how far it is where I live – I was terrified I'd be too late. And then…when I arrived I see his mangled body being showered on by the rain. It was devastating. I thought, like you did…that he was dead."

Yamato felt glad that it wasn't he who had seen the visual imagery. If it had been him he was pretty sure that the sight of his friend on the cement ground would haunt him for years.

"I checked his pulse and rang up Kanji first…then you guys. Took a lot of common sense to finally get around calling the paramedics. It was sort of Yutaka's fault that the media bombarded…he hasn't been concealing his identity lately and all they had to do was stay outside of his house and wait for him to come out."

"I see," he responded. "Anyway, Takahashi, it's okay to drop me off here. If you go any further…it'll be out of your way."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Okay man." Yamato opened his door and stepped into the wintry whether once again. He waved and thanked the bassist, beginning to run through the rain. Perhaps if he got home, had a shower and woke up…everything would be the same…nothing would change. Akira would be fine. Perhaps. The clouds thundered over him and lethargy finally got to him causing to stop running at the swift pace. His large steps turned small and it took him ten minutes to get back to his apartment.

He was then greeted with a new image.

She was sitting on his brick fence, one leg on top of the each other with a transparent umbrella protecting her from the brutal weather. She had an indescribable look on her face. She landed lightly on her feet and they met by the entrance, putting up her hand higher so that he was under the umbrella also. "You're soaked," she said.

"I am," he said, azure eyes filled with sadness. For once, it was easy to read him. He looked so lost and defeated and the weak smile he gave her dissolved into nothingness. "Let's go in."

They sauntered slowly up the staircases till they met his level and ambled on. He didn't know how she had come to find out about the situation and he really didn't care. Nevertheless, she answered his unasked question. "My alarm is the local radio. I heard the news at 6am. I thought you'd need the company."

He nodded, jaw tightening as he pulled out his house keys from his jean's pocket.

"Is he dead?"

He paused. He glanced down at her ambiguously then focused back on his task, successfully unlocking the door. "No, he isn't. Kanji said he'd tell us if anything drastic like that occurs."

It was her turn to nod. She slipped off her shoes and followed his wet footpaths on the wooden floors. After taking a brisk hot shower and pulling on a pair of slacks and a long-sleeved jumper he scanned the living room where he had left her to see that she wasn't there. He almost believed that she had left but discarded the thought aside when he saw his music room's door gaping open.

"You're still here."

"You thought I'd leave?"

"Don't you have some conference to go to or something? You really don't have to be here. It'll all be fine," he said with clear uncertainty.

"You won't be fine though," she stated. It wasn't a guess or assumption. She knew. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or not. He felt a bit uncomfortable with her knowing more personal things about him now.

He didn't answer. With a sudden movement she slid off the stool so that he could sit. He didn't protest and took a seat in front of his white pianoforte. Dim light filtered through the window. Even though it was morning, the weather had taken away most of the light of the day. His fingers touched the keys in a numb mesmerised state. So numbing that it felt as if it was engulfing him, taking over. Akira. Before he knew it he was playing a tune that he had heard long ago…

"Ishida, you are dismissed."

Yamato was glad to finally get out of the detention room he had been attending after school for the whole week. It was his last day to do so. Actually, truth be told, it was Taichi who had caused the trouble. Taichi always had the knack for being reckless and wanting to capture Mimi's attention. He thought that the best way to do this was to initiate a food-fight in the school cafeteria. Of course, being dubbed as Taichi's best friend had also earned him to be punished even if he hadn't taken part in the food wastage. Taichi, on the other hand, would have to suffer another four more weeks worth of detention. The soccer coach wasn't impressed. But Mimi sure had a laugh out of at it.

It felt good to finally achieve his weekday afternoons back. It meant more time for music and practising with his band. So far it consisted of one of his good friends – Takahashi – whom was an excellent guitarist. Takahashi sought out one of Odaiba's most hot-headed students with the most infamous reputation – Yutaka. Albeit he was a badass, when Yamato witnessed his drumming he knew there was talent there. Actually, it had been Takahashi who had pulled both band members together. So far it was all fighting between Yutaka and him with Takahashi being the referee. Somehow, he knew there was something in their new band. While his younger brother was physically active in basketball, he was the one that was musically inclined.

As he walked through the empty corridors of his high school he heard a faint melody being strung into the air ever so wistfully. Instead of strolling out of the gates of his school, he found himself turning the opposite direction and allowing the melody to drift him to its destination. He stopped walking and closed his eyes. The frilly notes were perfectly played and the crescendos and decrescendos were played precisely. He peeked, concentrating through the glass door that led into a small music room.

The person in there had jet-black hair and glasses bridging on his the top of his nose. There was a glint of gold from the boy's breast-pocket. Yamato concluded that it was a gold badge…therefore it meant that the person playing the piano was his senior.

He continued to listen to the unidentified performance. The older student was amazing. Yamato saw that his eyesight wasn't focused on the sheet music in front of him, but staring fixedly out of the window into the deep blue cloudless sky. It was as if he was sucking in the beauty of nature and portraying it into the joys of his music he produced.

And then Yamato waited for the particular phrase to pass. When it did, he gasped. Yamato had taken piano lessons when he was much younger and had familiarised himself with the piece. He recalled that even his own teacher couldn't play that bar so pristinely. Altogether, he had never heard the piece played from this angle before. The senior played it so differently with flares of distinct uniqueness. He would either flow like water for one minute then would come tumbling down into brisk vivace tempos. It was if he were playing it for someone…

The pianist stood up, pivoted on his seat and stared as Yamato applauded him, sliding the door open to greet him. "You play well," Yamato complimented.

"Thanks," he said a bit shyly but also in pride.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Akira," he said automatically, regarding the younger boy curiously. "Why?"

"Would you like to join my band?" The pianist stared at him astounded.

"That's how we met," he said, remembering every detail vividly. He didn't know why it was so important that he let Sora know this, but the words had slipped out of his mouth before he could prevent disguising the story. It was then that he now knew what he was playing on the piano. He was playing the piece that Akira played when they first met.

He slammed the lid of the pianoforte down, causing the sound to echo throughout his whole apartment. His shoulders hunched as he stared at his hands and began to shake. He had been crying. He started chocking in sobs. The thought of losing Akira was deteriorating him. Hell, he didn't even know the details. Was he clinging onto life? Would he make it?

Sora's body wrapped around him in an embrace, rocking him backwards and forwards. All the negativities were building up inside him now – so much that it was wearing and breaking him down. "We all knew about it. We knew about his condition…we didn't do anything about it," he wept, feeling foolish as she caressed him. His mother had never done that to him ever since he was four. "It's my fault. If I-"

"It's not," she soothed. "Yamato, stop blaming yourself."

"You don't know how it is…"

"I am aware that I don't know about half the things you've been through. But I know how it's like to lose someone, so don't give up hope when you're not even sure he's died yet," she said convincingly. She let him burry himself into her coat. She cradled him in her arms. "What happened the other night, Yamato? What's happening between us?"

"I don't know," he said honestly.

"You really kissed me this time. And I…I kissed you back."

Her rosy scent blended with the smell of rain, sedating his senses. He then looked up at her to catch that she was intently gazing down at him as well, large brown eyes studying him. A lump formed in his throat. He couldn't stand it any longer.

A tumble of emotion took over his thoughts and the next thing he knew, he had carried her on top of his piano and was pressing his body over hers, kissing her neck. He tore off her coat and held her frame, lips finding her mouth caressing it. She kissed back, deepening every time. Her long white skirt was up to her ankles while her legs dangled in the air from half lying down on the piano. His breathing was now sharp and ragged and his dilated eyes stared at her passionately. Her cheeks were flushing pink and lips parted as he let his fingers unravel her hair and pull the auburn tresses down. Their eyes locked intensely. He began to pull off her top.

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Rays of light dispersed into his room. It was evident that the storm had passed. His body ached and he could make out a fragrance familiar to rose petals. And then it dawned over him. He suddenly sat up and perceived that he was sitting on his bed…naked. It was sadistically amusing that he had actually thought that there was something going between them…he had begun to care for her. And now he had ruined the opportunity to actually begin something true.

He turned around the opposite direction to see if still lying down next to him.

She wasn't.

In Sora's place was only her ring.

He blinked, but found nothing in his room appearing or reappearing. He sat up in a ball, staring at the gaping bedroom door. He buried his head into his hands. What a mistake.

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(a/n) It's the easiest for me to write when I've got the house to myself. Since I already had written half of this chapter, I thought I'd might as well finish it and take advantage of being home alone. Also, I think I'll be too drained if I update later on this week (fortnight) – school's already bombed me with loads of work already. I really didn't think I'd have this chapter up already. Thanks for your support! The next chp should be in the next fortnight or something and will be longer (since this was pretty short). Take care!

Flipstahhz

Ps. I don't really think a lot of you will like this chapter. But this needed to be put in…for the other events to occur.

Only this chapter is (sort of) M, so I'm not changing the whole rating for the entire piece.