Money and Martyrdom

by bed of nails and sandpaper

Yamato left Japan, hoping for a new life in America. But, after five years of living without a family he decides to come home, not realising that the problems he left behind have been waiting for him. AU Taito, Takari and other pairings

3. Chapter 3

Okay, I never usually put notes on the top of my fics, but I just had to make sure that you're all mature enough to read this...because if not you're going to have to go to your parents to explain what's happening because there's no way I'm going to do it.

Also, it is veeeerrryyy important that you read the end note if you want this fic to continue.

And so, on with the show.

---

The friction between their bodies scorched, with even the slightest touch of skin stinging the surface and raising the blood in their veins. Yamato found himself twitching and gasping uncontrollably everytime Taichi bit into the flesh of his neck beneath his ear. It felt like a fire within him was slowly melting him from the inside. Every collision of their hips sent an electric spark through the boiling blood that raced beneath his flushed skin. Taichi was much the same, mumbling words and gutteral noises without focus. He just concentrated on the heat, the soft skin, the euphonious voice, the irreproachable beauty of the pale body he wrapped himself in, and the taste of skin that met his lips at his bit into the swan neck and kissed the heated cheek. The hand that held to the hips beneath him clenched harder at the pale skin, eliciting another delicious gasp that spurred him to slacken the leash on the animalistic desire that had been desperately trying to take control of his body. With Taichi's new pace Yamato found it even harder to hold back his release as well as his voice. They hadn't checked to see if his father was home when they had stumbled into the dark apartment with their lips clamped to eachother.

One of his hands was coaxing his own lust and the other was urging Taichi's pace by clawing at his back, so Yamato had no way to stifle those deep moans and yelps that he was unable to cage. He found his solution whe Taichi finally strayed from kissing his neck to attacking his lips. Yamato panted through his noise and wildly dominated Taichi's lips with his own. He moved the hand that had been on Taichi's back to grip at the unruly hair of his lover, slick with sweat and unruly. He forced his way between Taichi's lips and used the grip on his hair to direct the boy how he so wished. From the deep groans that Taichi rewarded him with Yamato could tell that the other appreciated his rough control over him.

Yamato wrapped his legs tighter around Taichi's hips and pushed himself into the heat that invaded him, feeling the coil of pleasure within him tighten and twist until his mind was just a haze and his body spasmed on instinct. His mouth worked feverously at Taichi's lips as he found his cries escaping despite his efforts. Each intake of breath was like inhaling smoke; so hot and thick. The taste of Taichi was overwhelming. His mouth, soft and warm, embracing Yamato's tongue as though it were a part of his body. He couldn't resist any longer. The pleasure was almost painful. Yamato hummed deep in the back of his throat and tightened the hold he had on Taichi, pulling his hair and pulling him deeper into him with the strong legs that he had wrapped around his hips. He felt himself stop breathing, but was numb to anything else other than the bliss of his release. Taichi follwed him swiftly, whispering curses and praise into Yamato's plump, swollen lips. It was intense, like it always was when he was with Yamato. Their faces were in such close proximity that they breathed in what the other breathed out, like they were a single system of lungs. Taichi let his arms giveway and he tucked his face back into Yamato's sweet smelling neck, nosing the downy blond hairs behind his ear. It was his favourite place on Yamato's body; soft, sweet, warm, and perfect to home his sweet whispers.

When he finally gained the stregnth to pull away his body had slowly begun to cool. Every patch of skin that was moist with sweat or Yamato's kisses began to sting with cold. But he didn't mind. Yamato was sufficiently warm to keep him from getting too cold, so long as the sated boy would allow him to get close. He could feel Yamato's body twitch and move with him when he left the sweet warmth, and a deep shiver ran its course throught the both of them.

With a shaking hand Yamato pulled the duvet onto his chest that was rolling heavier than a sea during high winds. Though he was still unbearably overheated he'd always felt it to be in poor taste to have himself exposed in all senses of being vulnerable, even if it was only to an empty room that contained just the two of them. Taichi, lying next to him, had his head lolled to the side with his nose scraping the fan of gold that was splayed across the bare mattress. Heated breath lingered over the pale shoulder that was tucked beneath the chiselled jaw, only serving to make his temperature rise that little more into being uncomfortably hot. He could feel the burn of Taichi's remaining lustful gaze across what little was still revealed of his chest and legs.

Yamato was glad that Taichi now understood his boundaries. The larger boy had always been surprisingly affectionate after sex; spurring him into a session of pillow talk, trying to darken the hickeys that had been made in their instinctive performance of passion, cooing his name into his ear and smothering him into a chest that was unbearably hot. All the while Yamato would seethe and beg for a short break to cool down, work out the kinks in his back and peaceful indulge in the weary calm that came in the wake of his orgasm. And after a few flicks to his nose, the pup that was Taichi finally understood that Yamato wasn't a fan of post-coital affection.

The blond could already feel the tired results of their intimacy. Sleep was wrapping him in a comfortable warmth and stroking against his eyes; teasing him to forget about the compromising position his father would find him in if he returned home before Taichi left. Curling onto his side, forgetting that Taichi was even there, Yamato pulled the covers over his shoulder and relaxed himself completely, feeling the after-orgasm remains tingle beneath his skin. He was practically asleep instantly. That is, until he felt a warm, calloused finger scratch his cheek, and a kiss was planted on the very tip of his sharp nose.

"Neh, Yama?"

A low whisper called to him, just loud enough to stop him from toppling over the edge of consciousness, but not loud enough to pull him back.

"Hmm?"

He grunted in reply, too lazy to even work his jaw to form words. He fisted the covers on his shoulder to keep them in place while Taichi rearranged himself on his side to rest his chin on his hand.

"You asleep?"

With a humorous sigh, Yamato turned to face away from him and curled into a foetal position.

"Yes. I am."

He stated with a laugh, all the while keeping his eyes firmly shut. He could only guess from the movements he felt in the bed that Taichi was shuffling once again, trying to get comfortable. He felt a firm hand reach over his shoulder and tenderly rub at the shell of his ear, brushing over the small pierced hole to the top that was quickly healing back to its original shape. A drunken accident that was slowly becoming forgotten with time to heal. Taichi ignored Yamato's tired joke and continued to talk anyway.

"Can I ask you something?"

That endearing innocence in his voice is what convinced Yamato into offering the attention that Taichi was asking for. He dropped the hold on the bed covers and turned over onto his back, allowing his neck to swing and lay his face across the pillow, facing Taichi's enquiring gaze. Though the thin lips of his lover were curled into a usual smile there was a small twitch to his expression that worried Yamato. Not enough to drop his tired smirk, but enough to raise his curiosity.

"What's up?"

He spoke in a whisper, too tired to use his voice. The feeling in his vocal chords felt the same as the strings of his guitar as he tuned them, changing from being pulled taught to released and slack. He dug his shoulder blades into the mattress as he made himself more comfortable to listen intently, while Taichi watched with coloured cheeks. The oaken gaze was hesitant now. The familiar smile was pulled across his face into an expression of uncertainty. But once the pale hand of his lover crawled into his own that lay across the bed, his demeanour softened slightly, revealing that little bit of the hopeless romantic gleam in his eyes that made Yamato's heart pound harder against his ribs.

"You love me, right?"

The soft enquiry earned the arching of a blond eyebrow, and the forming of several wrinkles across the bridge that split two lakes of blue. Yamato didn't understand the question let alone dignify it with a coherent answer. He just stared into what he could see of Taichi's dark eyes in the room that was almost pitch black. Taichi must have taken his silence as a sign to elaborate. He had looked away from the outlined shadow of his tired lover as he began to speak. He ran his thumb over the back of the pale hand that was willingly captured in his possessive hold, his gaze kept low to the warm intertwining of their limbs.

"I mean...this isn't just a friends with benefits things, is it?"

Taichi sounded uncertain. Almost fearful. There was the squeak in his speech patterns that gave him away. Yamato just barely lifted his heavy head to sit up to the same level as Taichi. He mirrored the other's exact position; lying on his side keeping his weight on his hip, chin resting on his hand, the other hand holding onto Taichi's that lay in between their bodies.

"Would it make a difference if it was?"

Yamato said, hinting a seriousness in his voice. In shock Taichi pushed himself to sitting, yet refusing to let go of the hand he held. His position was awkward but with his intense emotions rising to the surface he didn't care too much that his arm ached from being twisted awkwardly.

"Yes! A big difference!"

He looked back to Yamato's calm features. He shook his head with certainty.

"I don't want you doing this sort of thing with anyone else. It should be just me."

Yamato fought the rising blush in his cheeks so to take full advantage of Taichi's vulnerability at that moment. He wasn't usually one to mock a serious conversation, but the wide brown eyes and endearing scowl on Taichi's face made it all too easy to poke him further. With a twisted smirk he looked to the ceiling.

"Oh, I don't know about that. All the other girls and guys I'm banging might get upset."

He heard Taichi splutter on his own saliva and couldn't help but lift the laugh that had threatened to escape since Taichi first spoke.

"I was joking. Calm down, Tai."

The chuckles rocked his figure as he sat up to meet level eyed with Taichi. Ignoring Taichi's creased brow and gaping mouth he gently put a hand to his warm cheek, and clutched tighter to the other hand in his own, sweaty fingers tightly overlapping.

"There's only you."

He whispered, and leant forward for a kiss when he saw Taichi relax a bit. But just before they made contact, that quiet chuckle rose once more.

"At least, for now."

Taichi placed his hand over Yamato's mouth. Even with the smile covered, he could see the amusement in those cool blue eyes. Dark lips pursed into a childish pout.

"Stop saying things like that. You'll make me jealous."

Yamato peeled away the hand covering his still puckered lips, which was easily moved because Taichi never really intended to use force anyway. But instead of dropping the hand completely he simply rearranged it on his face to cup his cheek, and he nuzzled the rough pads of Taichi's fingers tenderly with a laugh.

"I can't help it. You're pouting like a kid."

"We'll see who's pouting when I withhold sex from you."

"That's more of a punishment for you than it is for me."

"Why? I'm not sex obsessed or anything."

"Are you sure? I certainly am."

Yamato knew that he wasn't particularly talented when it came to the arts of seduction, but even without a lusty expression or husky voice his words were a turn on to Taichi no matter what tone of voice he used them in. He saw the obvious signs that his awkward attempts had succeeded in defusing Taichi's irritation. His eyes widened, his eyebrows rose to hide behind the dark locks of hair that hung in front of his forehead, his lips parted and warm breath was rushing out between the gaps of his teeth in short, hard pants. Yamato didn't have time to heed any warnings of imminent danger before he found himself forcefully pinned back onto the bed with a warm, hard chest pressing down onto his own, stimulating his still sensitive skin.

"Ah, Yama I'd never be cruel like that. You're too sexy."

Taichi moaned in between the kisses that he marked onto the lithe neck his face was tucked against. Yamato wrapped his arms around thick shoulders and closed his eyes to better bask in the feeling of Taichi's ministrations. Each prick of teeth that he could feel through the kisses had shivers running through him.

"Damn right I am. Now shut up with all this deep conversation. You ruined my afterglow."

"Sorry."

Taichi held himself up with his forearms slowly, moving his face directly above Yamato's. He alternately stared deeply into the glistening blue orbs that watched him from beneath, staring back with lethargic adoration. With each glance of those watery irises his smile warmed just that little bit more until he could feel the heat reach the tip of each finger, like he held fire within his hands. He planted a sweet kiss upon the rose petal lips, an idyllic moment where for a first time he wished he could be out of his body so to see it for himself. But, experiencing it was probably just as good.

Yamato kept his eyes closed after the sweet kiss had been given to him, hoping Taichi would take it as a hint to end the conversation now and let him go to sleep. He used his arms that were already wrapped around Taichi's shoulders to pull him down to the bed, using actions rather than words to tell him to go to sleep, like a puppy would need to be shown rather than told what to do. But then again, puppies don't always understand what you mean, so why would Taichi be any different?

"Yama,"

He cooed and nuzzled into the sweet smelling neck of his lover.

"you do realise that I just confessed my love for you, right?"

He stroked a finger over Yamato's raised collar bone, looking at the contrast that he could see between the skin tones. Yamato was once again unsurprised, finding Taichi's immature attempts of romance to be nothing short of adorable.

"Really? That wasn't very romantic."

He laughed, feeling the tickle of Taichi's breath across his neck and the feel of his lips as they formed into a pout.

"I thought it was. No better time for a confession than after a great session of sex."

"Well, I wouldn't call it great, per say."

"You bastard. You won't be saying that after I have you screaming my name."

"Yeah, screaming for you to stop."

"Yama. Stop teasing me."

Taichi finally humoured Yamato's attempts to be funny in order to avoid serious conversation. He offered a small laugh beneath his whining, which was enough to satisfy Yamato.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, Taichi. I didn't mean it."

Yamato wriggled his shoulders so to get a little more comfortable beneath the weight of the half of Taichi's chest that was still resting atop of his own, and the blunt chin that dug against the flesh of his neck.

"Now, just let me sleep for a little while."

He placed his hand over Taichi's wandering finger so to still its ticklish movements that disrupted his search for sleep.

"Or, as a better suggestion, we could have another round and then go to sleep."

Taichi pleaded with wide eyes.

"No."

"Aww, please. After a love confession you're supposed to have sex straight away. It's taboo if you don't. Kind of like putting a curse on the relationship"

"Stop talking shit. A ten minute nap isn't going to completely jeopardise our future."

If the mentioning of a 'future' with Yamato wasn't enough to make him blush, then the feeling of Yamato's body folding into his own certainly did as the lithe male turned into tan arms so to make himself more comfortable. Taichi could feel every crease of Yamato's naked body being pressed into his own.

"O-Okay then."

Taichi stuttered in a voice slightly higher than usual. But despite Yamato being able to fall asleep instantly, before that short quote had been spoken, Taichi had remained awake long after. However, he was perfectly content with just watched the strands of blond hair sweep across Yamato's scalp as the dainty spring breeze blew in from the open window. When he finally found the courage Taichi wrapped his arms as tight around the other, hoping he wouldn't wake.

---

When Yamato woke up he found himself to be much calmer than when he had fallen asleep. Despite how vivid his dream of a memory had been he didn't reach over to the other side of the bed for a warm body like he used to do. He knew from experience that his hand would reach nothing but the empty sheets of the other side of the mattress. He didn't feel any regret or sorrow either. He just bit down on the inner lining of his cheek and sat up with dull, crusted eyes. He rubbed at his eyes vigorously, clearing away the substance that had glued his lids together as though pressuring him to just keep them closed and go back to sleep.

From the traces of light that slipped through the edges of his closed curtain he could see that it wasn't quite dark yet. The street lights had yet to be turned on, and over the top of the other apartment building across from his window the sun peeked over to wish him a goodnight before it slipped behind the concrete grey of the twelfth floor roof. He'd probably slept for a few hours at the most, but it was a long enough rest to leave him certain that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep again. He needed something to keep himself occupied for a while until his energy failed him and he could go back to bed to sleep away the rest of his life.

He sat up in the bed that was still warm from the heat that had radiated from his sleeping body. While rubbing his left eye with a lose fist he looked around the room with the other, searching for his black trousers and shirt that were his cafe uniform. Before he could get up to stand, a ripe waft of sweat rose from his still fully clothed body. With a few hours left until his shift started he couldn't remember the last time he'd savoured a nice warm shower, and there had never been a more perfect opportunity than that moment.

As quickly as the thought had rose to his mind he sprung up and pulled off his shirt in one movement, renewed dedication showing from his eager movements. He hopped towards the bathroom with one leg hanging outside his trousers as he tried desperately to pull them off.

A simple ten minute shower was a splendid heaven. Yamato stayed under the scolding spray of water, washing and rewashing himself so to prolong the almost undeserved ecstasy. The water was hot enough to make his skin itch and tingle in a painfully pleasurable way, bordering almost on a masochistic enjoyment. He stepped out only when his skin was flushed and pruned well, long after the temperature of the water had slowly shifted from boiling to lukewarm. At least they still could afford hot water.

After towelling himself off he passed the bathroom mirror without a single glance spared to his reflection. He didn't want to know what he looked like after he'd lost so much weight. He simply rushed out of the bathroom to his room to put on his work clothes.

When he thought he was ready to leave he checked his coat pocket, his bag, and the bowl by the front door for his car keys. But they weren't to be found in any of their usual places.

"Dad, have you seen my car keys?"

He called to his father while he pulled apart the sofa in vain. He found a few coins and a key chain, but o actual keys.

When he didn't receive any kind of response from his parent, he dropped the cushion he was clutching to search the apartment.

"Dad?"

He called again, poking his head into the kitchen, his dad's bedroom, checking the balcony. Yamato couldn't even find a hair from him. He was gone without a note once more. But when Yamato checked the fridge he found four of the six cans of beer that he had bought were missing. He supposed that was a kind of signal from his father to tell him where he was going.

Now late instead of early for work Yamato decided to take the bus.

---

He swiped the table with a vigour unseen from him in quite a while. With each swipe of the cloth across the wooden table was nearly scraping off a layer of varnish each time, but that damn mug stain was still there. Some customers had even begun to watch him putting all his effort into his cleaning, because it was just so bizarre to see someone so dedicated to removing a simple stain.

Just as he felt his arm begin to ache the door to the cafe swung open and the new customer burst in with more energy than one would expect according to his appearance. A balding head that was splashed with grey curls wove through the tables towards Yamato, who was still stubbornly bent over the table he was cleaning.

"Yamato! My favourite blond waiter, I'm glad I caught you today. I was worried you wouldn't come to work."

The sight of his new friend, Watanabe Shou, brought Yamato back to his full height and he abandoned the frayed cloth onto the table. He smiled and took the wrinkled hand that was held out to him.

"Well, what can I say, I'm addicted to suffering. Can I get you anything?"

Watanabe lowered himself onto the closest chair, feeling the effects of his old age kicking in after he'd rushed so energetically into the cafe. He waved off Yamato's attempt to serve him.

"No, nothing for me today, except your attention. I have a proposition for you."

Finding interest, Yamato leant back against the table and folded his arms, ready to listen. Watanabe leant onto his knees and spoke with a laugh.

"Last night I was thinking about your stress troubles, feeling guilty that I couldn't help you at all, when I was struck by my ageing memory."

He began to dig in his jacket pocket while he continued.

"When I was much younger my mother fell almost deathly ill. I was so worried that I started feeling sick all the time. I couldn't sleep a wink, knowing that I was helpless."

Finally he muttered 'here it is' to himself and produced a crumpled, cream piece of paper and held it out to Yamato.

"Then someone gave me this exact brochure."

With creased brows Yamato took the folded paper from him and examined the front. A laminated picture of the empire state building stood out amongst the wrinkles in the paper, and at the top, written in red, block letters was one word.

"America?"

He read to himself and Watanabe raised his hand as though to confirm the rhetorical question.

"America!"

He stated, speaking with pride for his ingenious idea.

"I moved to New York, thinking that I could take a holiday to relax myself and take my mind off my sick mother. But my expectations of the big city were much different to the actual place."

Yamato was only half listening as he read over the obviously out of date brochure.

"It was overwhelmingly busy, pavements as tightly packed as tinned meat, mile long traffic in every direction, bars and restaurants overloaded with people, and the noise, my God, I couldn't hear a damn thing over the sounds of the city. There was no point trying to think of anything because I wouldn't be able to hear my thoughts anyway."

"Wouldn't that make you more stressed? I could imagine myself putting a knife to my temple in a place like that."

Yamato laughed, and Watanabe looked to him with his drooping eyes, expecting him to have said such a thing.

"But that's just the thing that cured me. It was so busy, so lively, so energised that there were no opportunities to worry about anything. And when I got to bed each night I was so thoroughly exhausted by the city that I would fall asleep before my head even hit the pillow. Sometimes it's bad to be left alone with yourself for so long. One can only take so much of your own company."

He reached over Yamato's gaze to tap the paper in his hand.

"And in America there are people everywhere. I mean, it may sound like a crazy idea when central Tokyo is only a short train ride away. But I believe that a completely different environment means to live in a completely different way. And change will be good for you."

Yamato looked up to see the arched smile on the old face, before looking back to the brochure. The pictures were faded, but from what he could see the place looked nice enough. The photos of the streets looked busy with tall men and women, all walking with a sense of purpose, and the pictures of the night life were even more stunning. Bright lights emitting from rows of bars and themed restaurants, fifty taxis all lined up reflected every glint from their thick yellow bodies.

"America, huh?"

He muttered, and closed the brochure in thought, taking a last look at its worn cover.

"It would be nice to see a bit of the world while I'm young.

He mused, and didn't see when Watanabe's smile grew to reach his eyes.

"That's the spirit, my boy."

Despite the lively pictures that roused a desire within him, Yamato slowly offered the booklet back to the other man.

"I can't. I haven't got the money."

"Well, I can get you a free flight over there if you want it. I have connections. But I'm afraid I can't be of much help in terms of finances other than that."

"Please, I wouldn't ask so much of you. Your concern is already more than I could have hoped for."

The elderly smile dulled a little, but Watanabe didn't take the brochure and instead pushed it back to him, signalling him to keep the small token.

"You're too humble."

He murmured in a hoarse voice, and Yamato, seeing that he might have caused some disappointment for the old man went on to rid the disheartened expression he now wore on his marred face.

"It's a really great idea, and seriously tempting, but I can't do it right now. Maybe, in a few years. But not right now."

"I understand. But please, have my phone number if you change your mind.

He quickly snatched the brochure so to write his phone number on the front of it and then handed it back quickly. His expression no longer showed any traces of sadness, but an offering of hope.

"Just a quick call from me to a friend and I could get you on a flight to anywhere as fast as you want it."

Yamato laughed at the sweet gesture and tucked the faded brochure into the pocket of his black work trousers.

"From all the kindness you've shown me, Watanabe-san, one might think that you're trying to get me in bed."

"Well, if you'll accept me as your sugar daddy then I wouldn't complain.

"I'm too flattered. But you could probably do better than a measly waiter."

"And you could do better than a senile old fart."

Yamato shook his head with a light chuckled and offered his hand to help when he saw the old man trying to get up.

"No way. I'll be looking for a charmer like you for the rest of my life."

The soft, warm hand held firm to his own, as the elderly body was pulled to stand. Their joking had certainly brightened the mood between the two of them, and the customers' curiosity was stirred at seeing the short tender moment between the two men that had the difference of a whole life between them. Watanabe didn't let go of Yamato, and joined his other hand into the small connection so to cover Yamato's frail limb completely.

"Go easy on yourself, boy. You're too young to be buckled down."

Yamato nodded and looked into the milky eyes that spoke to him. With even more intensity he ran a calloused thumb across the top of Yamato's pale hand and stared with at the soft face with an expression that Yamato hadn't seen enough off to know what it meant. But the hands tightening around his own and the warm voice gave him a hint.

"Spirit like yours shouldn't go to waste."

And Yamato couldn't help but think that he'd heard something similar from someone else in his life. Ignoring the moment of Déjà vu, Yamato gratefully accepted the advice that was given to him with a bit of flattery.

"Thank you."

"Hey, Yamato!"

He hadn't heard the door open, but Yamato definitely saw a mess of burgundy locks rush towards him, and then slowly come to a halt once he took in the intimate position of the two bizarrely contrasting men in front of him.

"Sorry, am I...interrupting?"

He questioned with an odd cringe pulling at his lips. Yamato nearly burst out laughing when he saw Daisuke's awkward intrusion. Yamato withdrew his hands to cover his laugh while Watanabe did all the talking, still keeping in close proximity to the younger, and slightly taller, blond male.

"No, not at all, young man."

He chuckled and reached up to gently pat Yamato's shoulder.

"If anything you're saving young Yamato from being sexually harassed."

The old man laughed and sent a silent salute to Daisuke, whose hair colour now blended in perfectly with that of his face. His mouth hung open, welcoming any flies that were looking for a place to stay. Feeling a little sadistic himself, Yamato leaned into the older man next to him, wanting to tease Daisuke a little bit more.

"It's not harassment if I'm willing, Watanabe-san."

He seductively brushed the dusty shoulder of the old man and smiled at the other's equally amused expression when he turned to look at him. He playfully batted the hand away.

"Oh, stop being so flirtatious, you'll get my hopes up."

He laughed deeply with a warm voice, and smoothed out his old suit jacket. His affectionate parting gift to Yamato was a short embrace around his shoulders before quickly breaking away. If he'd done any more suggestive teasing then the poor kid in front of him would surely faint from all the blood rushing to his face.

"Have a nice day, Yamato."

He lingered when saying the name of his new friend, and nodded curtly to the newcomer that had interrupted their conversation. Feeling over the old brochure in his pocket, Yamato lazily raised his hand to wave him goodbye.

"Uh, are you and that old man seriously...?"

Daisuke's question had forced him to look away from the old man's figure as he put further distance between him and the cafe. With a short laugh Yamato ruffled Daisuke's tussled hair and pushed away from that table that he had been leaning against.

"We were just joking. Though, if he were a few years younger, I wouldn't turn him down."

"Uh...gross. How are you by the way?"

Yamato raised his brow at the question, observing the gleam in Daisuke's eyes that told him that the question had been intended to hold a more personal meaning. But, Yamato refused to play along with Daisuke's game of 'therapist and patient' and just gave his usual vague response.

"I'm fine. You're rather early though. Did something happen?"

"Oh, no. I was just worried about you. You didn't look great when I left this morning. I didn't think you would go to work."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've been a bit ill."

Daisuke nodded and held his stare to Yamato, who wasn't quite sure what to say. He had to get back to work, which would be rude to do while Daisuke was trying to initiate a spontaneous staring contest with him. Awkwardly scratching his cheek, he picked up the cloth he had been cleaning with.

"Uh...is that all you came here for?"

With a cheeky glint, Daisuke sat down at the nearest table.

"Well, I actually thought I'd get some coffee too, considering this is a cafe, right?"

Yamato flushed and tucked the damp cloth into the top of his waist apron.

"Oh yeah. Did you get a hangover this morning?"

He asked, only to see Daisuke wince when reminded of the ill bile of his hangover that had been relentlessly sloshing around in his head and stomach. He leant on his hand and looked up at Yamato's humoured face. He obviously didn't find Daisuke's predicament entertaining, but seeing the usually cheery and composed man looking positively green due to his low tolerance evoked a smile from him. Yamato, being a man and having pride in his drinking abilities, found all lightweights to be amusing. Daisuke was no exception.

"Yeah, and it still hasn't gone. It's not as bad as I thought it would be, but it's not good either. When I close my eyes it feels like I'm going down a hill."

Daisuke mumbled and rubbed his finger against the spotless surface of the table that Yamato had just cleaned. Yamato nodded in understanding.

"I wouldn't recommend drinking coffee then, Daisuke. You're dehydrated from all that alcohol. I could get you some juice or something if you'd like?"

"Yeah, that sounds great. I'll trust your judgement."

"I've had my fair share of hangovers to know what works and what doesn't. Hot coffee is only going to make you energetic while still being sick."

"Thanks."

Daisuke watched as Yamato went to the counter and made his typical creased expression that showed that he was thinking. He ran his finger over a few of the drink packages in contemplation before turning to the fridge beneath the counter. He set to work swiftly and soon made his way back to Daisuke's table with a proud face. The tall glass of green liquid was placed before him.

"Here you go. A cold peppermint sweet tea with a twist of lime. A delicious beverage to hydrate you as well as give you the sugar boost you need. It's good for your metabolism, too."

Daisuke laughed and raised the cool drink to his lips.

"Since when were you a health nut, Yamato?"

"I'm not a health nut. I'm just smart when it comes to these things."

"Is it because all of that Sake and fast food you had when you were younger caught up with you?"

"You make it sound like I'm old."

Yamato dramatically sighed and took Daisuke's payment for the drink, pocketing it with a smile.

"Call me over if you need anything."

He smiled and turned back to the counter to return to his job. But before he took the first step he felt a sharp tug on the string on his apron. At first he thought that it was Daisuke being playful, so he jokily swatted it away.

"Hey, Yamato?"

Daisuke's quiet voice convinced him that he was either trying to be serious, or trying to play a slightly crueller joke on him. Concerned, Yamato turned around to see Daisuke's expression; drooped lips and squinted eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

He spoke, releasing his finger hold on Yamato's apron. Yamato's cheery facade weakened, the tired lines around his face looking much deeper than they had when he'd smiled. He lowered his head and scratched the crown of blond hair that was darkening with age. His lips twitched with realisation that, apparently, no matter how much effort you put into it, a smile can't hide everything. He sighed heavily, pressing his protruding ribs against the black work shirt, and raised his eyes to Daisuke's copper stare.

"If you want the honest truth, Daisuke, I've been better."

He laughed bitterly.

"I've been much better actually. But that's okay, because in a little while I'm going to have everything sorted out and be back to normal. Does that settle your conscience enough?"

Daisuke flushed and grabbed onto his drink, feeling guilty for reminding Yamato of his troubles.

"Sorry."

He mumbled, but found himself swiftly forgiven when a pale hand ruffled through his hair with a tired chuckle.

"Don't worry about it. It's nice for you to be concerned, but don't fret over me or anything, okay?"

Daisuke nodded but didn't meet his eyes, opting to stare into the smoky green beverage that Yamato had given him. Their moment was interrupted when a burly man in a cap and jacket approached Yamato, with his clip board drawn and held out like a weapon.

"Excuse me, sir. I've got a few deliveries for someone to sign for."

"Thanks, but you could you take them round the back? I'll open the door for you."

The man nodded, making his loose cap fall over his eyes, and left to the van that was now parked outside of the cafe. With a final brush to Daisuke's shoulder and a grateful wink, Yamato left to the back room of the building, leaving Daisuke alone at his table.

Being honest with himself, he hadn't really come for a cup of coffee. His reason was purely to check on Yamato after seeing how truly emaciated and tired he had been that morning, and the frightening phone call he'd received from Takeru later on in the day was just another reason. He felt obliged to at least visit him, since he knew that there was nothing he could do that would actually make a difference. By the looks of how thin Yamato had become, Daisuke knew that something had been wrong for a while, which was probably a matter that he had no right to interfere with. But last night, seeing Yamato throw people aside when leaving the apartment, carelessly pulling on Takeru like a master would do to a disobedient dog, and then his expression in the car of a deep pain, Daisuke could have guessed that something went wrong. And after Yamato left Taichi to fend for himself, Daisuke could tell that it had something to do with his unfaithful other half.

He stirred the tea with his finger, looking to the door that Yamato had entered with eager eyes. He felt completely useless to the older man. He couldn't even make Yamato show a real smile let alone help solve any of his problems. He had someone else to pay his bills with enough left over to buy luxuries, he didn't have a lover to cheat on him, nor a brother that wasn't aware of his worth, what did he know about Yamato's kind of life? He still had a few years to relax before he actually gained any responsibility in his life.

Daisuke was so distracted that he didn't notice the figure walking back and forth in front of the entrance, reaching out to the door handle every few seconds before hesitating and pulling away to pace some more. When the man finally entered he headed straight for the counter, through Daisuke's line of sight, to talk to the employee that was swabbing down the coffee machine.

"Excuse me, Miss, but is Ya-"

"Taichi!"

The man halted in talking to the woman to turn to Daisuke, who had called out his name. When he met eyes with Daisuke he even jumped back a bit in a sort of fear. His peppermint tea left untouched, Daisuke stormed over to Taichi, seeing him as part of the solution to the matter that he had been mulling over for the past five minutes. He may not know directly what had happened to Yamato to cause him pain in the first place, but he was convinced that Taichi must have played some part in it.

"Daisuke? What are you-?"

"Come with me for a second."

He demanded, gripping on to the sleeve of Taichi's jacket and hauling him back to the entrance. The meek woman behind the counter simply watched with an erect brow as the men struggled against each other.

"Eh? Oi, I need to speak to Yama!"

Taichi whined and weakly tried to pull himself free. Daisuke's grip on him was as firm as he could muster, but his fingers barely creased the sleeve of Taichi's thick jacket.

"I need to speak to you first!"

He bit out, and Taichi complied when pulled out the door, if only to satisfy his mild curiosity for the matter.

---

When Yamato pocketed the pen he had signed with and returned to work he didn't see Daisuke at the table he'd left him at, and his drink was practically still full. He didn't think too much of it though. The poor boy could have rushed to the toilet with sickness from his hangover, and Yamato knew better than to try and help him. Fussing over him would just make it worse. And besides, it was his own fault in the first place for drinking such copious amounts of alcohol when he knew that his limits would be far exceeded.

"Yami, phone for you."

One of his fellow workers called from the back room where he had just come from.

"For me?"

Yamato asked and pointed to his person.

"Naw, for the mole on your back. Of course it's for you, stupid."

The man rolled his eyes sarcastically and held out the plastic appliance. Yamato was hesitant to take it. It was rare for him to receive a call at work, unless it was some kind of emergency.

"Did they say who it was?"

"It's a lady."

The man said and gave Yamato a wink before returning to work once the phone had been taken from him. Yamato looked bewildered and had yet to put the phone to his ear. A lady? Who on earth...

"Yamato speaking."

He spoke, sounding more like a question than a greeting to the person on the other end of the line.

"Hello, Yamato? It's Mommoko, from Odaiba Elementary."

The secretary with the soft voice. All Yamato could think was 'oh shit, I'm fired, I'm fired, I just know it.' But despite this inner rant he kept the smile on his face.

"Ah, hello, Mommoko. Is something wrong?"

"No, not really...I don't think so, but...I was just wondering...have you sold your car?"

"My car? No. Why?"

"It's nothing, it's just...I'm parked outside the car shop on the east side and there's a car parked in the lot that looks exactly like yours. Has it been stolen or something?"

"Not that I know of. I drove home in it just this morning. Can you tell me what it looks like?"

"It's a jaguar, quite a dark blue, licence plate xxxxxx, looks like it's been nicked on the left side of the front bumper, black leather seats, a red-"

"That's my car!...that is my car, no doubt about it!"

Yamato growled and pounded his fist on the counter. He didn't care when an elderly customer scolded him with her eyes for his impertinence.

"Are you sure it wasn't stolen, Yamato?"

"Not any more. What shop is this? Where are you?"

With a groan he grabbed the first pen he found and scrawled down Mommoko's directions to the shop on his hand.

"Okay, thanks so much for calling me. I'm going to go check this out."

"Do you want me to wait here for you? I could-"

"No, don't worry. Carry on with your evening, sorry for the trouble."

"No trouble at all, I hope this works out okay. I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, thanks. Goodbye."

He hung up the phone, and tossed it back to the employee that had given it to him.

"Tell the boss I need to clock off early."

He said and threw off his apron, nearly ripping it off of him when he struggled with the tie at the back. The man barely caught the phone and followed Yamato's frantic movements as he tried to escape the cafe as swiftly as possible.

"Eh? Why?"

"My car's been stolen."

"Shit. Good luck with that, Yami."

He didn't bother to put on his coat, and instead clutched it and allowed it to billow behind him as he ran out of the building. He was nothing but a roaring blur as he dashed past two familiar figures that he was too distracted to take notice of. His sense of urgency wasn't satisfied when he realised that he'd have to wait for a bus to get to this place, and it was probably closing up at that very moment.

---

Taichi could have easily escaped from Daisuke's grip, but didn't dare to do so. Not while he wore a fiery scowl that no vengeful demon could possibly compare to. He just allowed himself to be dragged away to the cafe, only slightly relieved that his confrontation with Yamato was going to be postponed for a few more minutes while he dealt with Daisuke.

In the mind of Daisuke, the canvas was blank other than his desire to help Yamato which was now controlling all actions and emotions. He was barely short of grabbing Taichi's hair when he didn't move fast enough as he pulled him towards the bench that sat across the street. And when they reached the rotting street furniture he threw Taichi onto it and stood before him with his arms firmly crossed.

"Did you see Yamato last night?"

He spat towards the seated male, hoping that by looming over him he might intimidate Taichi into talking.

"Huh? Why are you-"

"Did you see him? Something happened, and I know you had something to do with it."

With a sigh Taichi lowered his gaze, shame evident on his face.

"Yeah, I saw him. But I don't want to be talking about it with you; I'm here to talk to him."

"Well, talk to me first. I don't want him getting hurt even more."

Taichi frustratedly grabbed the seat of the bench with a steel grip and fired his stare at Daisuke, who had is arms folded stiffly and though his face was almost blank, his eyes showed a fire that should have melted them right out of their sockets. Taichi stood up, determined to not be bothered by his junior. He told himself that he was angry because his time was being wasted. But the glint that Daisuke had in his eye when Yamato's name was mentioned certainly helped to stoke Taichi's temper.

"Since when were you his fucking protector, Daisuke?"

He roared, and stood there silently, expecting Daisuke to shout back at him. But the younger boy didn't. His face showed that he wasn't at all surprised by Taichi's outburst. Perhaps he had even expected it. With an empty tone he answered.

"Since the day you stopped."

With sad eyes Taichi's anger wasn't extinguished, but slowly died out with nothing left to fuel it. He sat back down on the bench with weakened legs while Daisuke just kept watching him, still wanting an answer to his initial question and determined to pry it from the older man that he had once admired. When he saw Taichi like this, face pale and creased, clothes dirty, eyes bloodshot, face bruised and lips raw, he couldn't imagine him to be the same man that he had dedicated his life to growing up to be like; the man who had won game after game of soccer and been so close to being something great.

"You're the one that's been telling him about all the shit I did, aren't you?"

Taichi's laugh wasn't at all humorous while he'd said this. He had been shaking his head and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. Daisuke found himself pitying Taichi; his first time experiencing such a thing where Taichi was involved. His firmly held arms loosened, and his frown faltered.

"Are you mad?"

Taichi shook his head and looked up to the younger male.

"No. I'm grateful. I don't think I'd have the guts to tell him myself, and he deserves better than me lying to him all the time."

He leaned back with a sad sigh and a smile and looked to the opening heavens above him. It looked like it was going to rain soon, despite the fact that summer was close at hand. He thought to himself that it must be global warming, or at the very least mother earth was attempting to create pathetic fallacy.

With a growl he leant forward on the bench, intent on spitting out his confession quickly. But all he managed to choke out was a croaky 'I' before he stopped himself. Daisuke was looking more frightened by the second. He took his time; said it slowly, calmly, but crudely. His choice of words weren't exactly the most appropriate, but at least he finally said it.

"I fucked Takeru."

---

"Hey! Anyone here?"

The place looked pretty barren from the outside, but under the half closed garage door, Yamato could see the stream of a lit room. Ignoring any kind of etiquette he just allowed himself inside and called out again for any kind of assistance. Oil stained sheets covered all and any cars that he could see, which he assumed meant that there must not have been anyone working on them. But the light was still on. There must have been someone still here that he could talk to. He called out once again, cupping his hands around his mouth to extend the sound desperately.

He jumped when he heard the creaky door of a hidden office open, and a bulked stranger in a full mechanic's jumpsuit walked out with a snarl.

"What d'ya want?"

Although the man didn't necessarily look hostile, it was obvious that he was agitated after being disturbed from whatever he was doing. Shaking his head and ignoring his polite nature to apologise for the disturbance Yamato took control to be resolute.

"That blue jag out front is mine!"

The mechanic tucked a pen behind his ears and crossed his arms.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, same licence plate and everything. Who sold it to you?"

The guy turned back around to head back into the office as he answered.

"Some kid. Are ya g'na buy it back?"

Yamato followed him into the small room with an incredulous growl.

"I shouldn't have to buy it back, it's my fucking car. I've paid for it already!"

"Ya got insurance ta cover it then? How do I even know it's really yers?"

Yamato was almost about to loot his pockets for his keys, until he remembered that he hadn't been able to find them. He flicked his head in frustration at himself.

"I've got the keys and registration for it at home if you need that as proof. I can-"

"If ya' can get me tha registration I could cut ya' some slack. But I paid good money fer that thing, and I'm not just g'na give it away ta some jackass that claims that it's his."

"So, if I get you my registration you'll give it back to me?"

"No. If ya' get me tha registration then I'll give ya' a good deal ta buy it back. Yer insurance should cover it okay, but I'm not just g'na give it away. I paid fer it too."

Yamato tried to convince himself that he had misunderstood the strong Kansai accent of the man that became even less comprehensible when combined with his lazy jaw. But despite how many ways he translated the sounds he still came up with the same words. He'd have to pay to get her back. Considering her worth when he'd first purchased her it would take him more than just a few years to earn that amount all over again, and hoping to make a profit the mechanic would probably sell her for more anyway, seeing how desperate Yamato was to get her back.

"I swear to the fucking Gods that I'm am going to kill this fucking thief!"

Yamato couldn't tell if he'd mumbled or screamed his frustrated statement, but either way the man in the room heard it and felt that the comment was directed at him and that he had a right to reply.

"And ya' have every fuckin' right ta. Report tha little fucker."

"Could you at least tell me what he looked like?"

The guy scratched his chin and looked to the ceiling as he listed vague details.

"Kinda tall, lanky but not skinny, pale-ish, blue eyes, blond hair, looked about nineteen or somethin', wearin' a green shirt. I could get tha security tape if ya want a better look at tha kid. Maybe even use tha video fer tha cops."

Yamato shook his head with a growl.

"That's alright. I think I've got a good image of the guy. Thanks."

In fact the image he had of the culprit wasn't just good, it bordered on being scarily accurate, right down to the features that the mechanic hadn't even mentioned to him. He left without any kind of closure about what would happen to his car. He didn't know the real reason for the feeling like he was falling or the terrible nausea, so for now he would just blame it on the overwhelming scent of petrol and tell himself that he was fine and that he just needed to get a hold of himself.

But the strangled cry of anguish that he released once he'd gotten to the bus stop said differently.

"Fuuuuck!"

---

Daisuke knew very well that he hadn't said a word in over two minutes. His saliva felt to have the consistency of peanut butter, slicking his gums and stiffening any form of jaw movement. He stared with his brows hidden beneath his hair at Taichi, who didn't look to be too proud of himself. His umber orbs were lowered to his lap, where his trembling hands were picking at a few loose threads in the hem of his flimsy jacket.

When he finally found his circulation to regulate and his mouth to function properly he blurted the first thing that came to mind in a desperately painful voice.

"Taichi, you can't tell him!"

Taichi shook his head slowly.

"It's too late. I'm sure he pretty much knows."

In a sort of shock Daisuke automatically dropped onto the bench next to Taichi, not caring if the wet mould on the wood would stain his clothes.

"How could you do that?"

It felt more like he was questioning himself with how quite he had whispered it. He kept his eyes to the gravel.

"I know this is a fucking cliché and I've said it a hundred times over, but if there is only once chance for me to mean it then this is definitely it. It seriously wasn't my fault. I was so out of it, I thought he was Yama!"

"It is your fault!"

Daisuke screamed and pointed his finger to Taichi's face, resisting from curling that last finger into his hand to form a fist that he so wanted to throw into the frightened face of Taichi.

"No one forced anything down your throat! You took it all yourself and acted like an asshole as a consequence."

"I know, I know. I'm fucking sorry!"

Taichi backed away from Daisuke's hand, wanting to be out of range from his wrath while he still had things to say. He didn't feel safe being in the presence of the younger man at the moment. His face was nearly as dark a shade of plum as his hair and his pupils were dilating sporadically; violent and irregular like his raging pulse.

Taichi swallowed loudly and brushed his hair from his face before speaking.

"I've fucked up. I've fucked up so bad that there's probably no way of fixing this."

He tilted his face and looked through the strings of hair that hung over his vision.

"But, at least, I'm trying to fix it."

Daisuke sighed, being unable to find another hurtful comeback to Taichi's comments. He wanted the older man to feel more than guilty. He wanted him to hate himself. If he was able to do that then maybe he would feel like he was helping Yamato in some way, instead of fraternizing with the enemy. No, that didn't sound right. Taichi wasn't an enemy. Taichi was his mentor, his hero, his friend.

Daisuke pulled at his hair, finding himself torn between two places and two people that he held dear to him. He wanted to console Taichi because he was his friend, but he also wanted to punish Taichi because Yamato was his friend as well, and this was the man that had caused his friend such pain.

"Why, Taichi? Why would you even do it the first time?"

Taichi held his hands together, like he was praying, and leant forward onto his knees.

"I don't really know anymore. My reasons keep changing."

He muttered and watched the few cars that drove down the road before them. Two or three cars every half an hour was the busiest that the small road would get, even during rush hour. So those rare cars that passed penetrated the calm of the empty street like a roar of a beast would do an empty cave. Daisuke watched them pass as well, finding little to look at or say during their moment of silence. Then, just when Daisuke felt himself calming down and forgetting where he was, Taichi began to speak again, in a quite hum of his low voice.

"He won't cry for me anymore."

Daisuke turned to him with a creased brow.

"You did it to make him cry?"

"No!...well, I used to. This time was different."

Taichi saw Daisuke to be just as confused as he had been when he'd made the previous statement. He knew he'd have to elaborate and reveal some personal matters; maters that he had trouble admitting to himself let alone others. But it was necessary. He owed Daisuke that much for taking his place beside Yamato as his source of comfort. He had the right to at least know why he had taken that position.

"The first time that I slept with someone else was an accident, and I made Yama cry when I told him. But...seeing him cry made me happy in a sick, sadistic kind of way I guess. At least if he cried I knew that he actually cared about me."

The ironic smile on Taichi's face slipped from his lips. He took in a ragged breath.

"But he doesn't do that anymore. In fact he pretends it didn't happen half of the time, and it pisses me off. I've been waiting for him to get angry at me; hit me like he used to in the old days when I fucked up. It's like he's given up on me. And then when he told me that he thought we should break up it I knew that he'd given up for sure. He didn't love me anymore."

He turned to see Daisuke staring at him, listening absorbedly to every word and slowly feeling more and more guilty for thinking about wanting to hit Taichi. Meanwhile, Taichi was feeling almost bashful to have so much attention paid to him, especially when he spoke about something so personal. But he continued anyway, caring less and less about who he was speaking to and focusing on what needed to be said. And if Daisuke wasn't then one to hear it then he knew that he'd just have to say the same things to a psychiatrist later on in life anyway. He could feel the sting in his eyes and the sting in his chest as he thought of what to say. There was something clogging his throat, making every swallow of saliva thick and painful. He breathed out deeply.

"I guess...when I slept with Takeru, I was just clinging onto my last hope that Yamato still loved me."

"Taichi..."

Daisuke whispered, shocked at what he was hearing. But something particular stuck out from what Taichi said; something that he felt responsible for.

"Taichi, I was the one that told him that he should end it with you."

Taichi's hurt expression that was shown to him only made Daisuke feel worse. At the time that he'd given the advice to Yamato he hadn't known any part of Taichi's story and just thought of him as a heartless person. But at least now he knew some part differently.

"Why?"

Taichi choked, feeling betrayed. But Daisuke easily justified this betrayal of trust.

"You might not see what's happening, but I do. He's changed, Taichi. He's not the same Yamato that I used to look up to in high school. You're not the only reason he's changed though. I mean, if he still loves you after all this time then you must've done at least something right."

"He...He loves me?"

Taichi was nearly falling out of his seat. His sad grimace had faded completely. He was smiling, full of life and pure joy radiating from his flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Daisuke laughed to himself, feeling a sense of nostalgia after seeing Taichi smile like that. He couldn't remember seeing Taichi this animated since high school. When he calmed down he gave Taichi a good slap to the back.

"Yeah, why else would he put up with your shit?"

Taichi's smile only brightened and his clasped hands clenched tighter together. But before Taichi got too immersed in his recovered bliss Daisuke pulled him down from the cloud that he sat on.

"But Taichi, that doesn't mean that you can do whatever you like. You have most definitely fucked this up and even if he still loves you he probably hates you as well."

Taichi nodded in all seriousness.

"That's why I came here; to apologise."

"If you tell him what you told me I think he'll understand you a bit more. I reckon it'll get you a few marks for honesty."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, just man up, and make sure you don't start sobbing."

Taichi laughed and leant back on the bench.

"Are you kidding? As soon as I see his face I'm probably going to start crying hysterically."

Daisuke laughed a bit as well, only to relieve some tension rather than because what Taichi had said was funny. He gave the older male a few minutes to compose himself and think over what to say before they finally decided to get it over with and go and see Yamato.

When they entered the cafe a different male served behind the counter alongside the woman and not a blonde hair was visible throughout the whole building. Taichi's face sagged in both disappointment as well as some part relief.

---

The stupid registration wasn't in a damn place to be found. Yamato had tipped out every draw in his bedroom as well as every other draw in the apartment. He even checked the kitchen cupboards to be sure. All he found was a few old high school certificates, some parking tickets and his passport that had been lost for the past few years. But no registration for his car. After experience with his shitty luck the paper had most probably been in the glove compartment of his car. If the rest of the workers at the car shop were as unprofessional and inconsiderate as the one he'd met that day then they'd probably tossed it out without a second thought.

When the phone rang he growled and kicked aside the drawer that he had been looking through.

"Hello, Yamato speaking."

"Yamato, it's Daisuke. You just left the cafe all of a sudden without a word."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I had an emergency. I'm glad you called actually. Do you know where Takeru is? He isn't answering his cell phone."

"Takeru? Uh...yeah, I think so. He was going to his mum's today. But listen, Yamato, before you go off and find him could you come back to the cafe for a minute?"

Barely listening to what was being said Yamato dragged the phone and its cradle across the room and back to the mess that he'd made in searching for his forms.

"Sorry, no can do. I'm in the middle of a crisis."

"Well, then can I come over to the apartment? There's someone-"

"If you're willing to wait for me until I get back then yeah, you can come here. But I might be back late because I'm getting the fucking bus."

"What happened to your car? And what happened with Takeru?"

"I hope that nothing happened with Takeru, but I'm going to talk to him to find out. Just come here and make yourself comfortable, my Dad should be here to let you in. I shouldn't be back late. Okay, bye."

Yamato hung up quickly and threw another pile of undesired papers across the room in disappointment. He couldn't find it. It seemed hopeless.

Daisuke stared at his phone in a sort of shock. Yamato had hung up so suddenly and spoken so harshly that he seemed so out of character. And what was happening with Takeru? He hadn't heard from his friend that anything had happened.

"So, is it okay to go over there?"

Taichi asked from beside him, looking across the younger's shoulder from his seat on the bench beside him. Daisuke dismissed his worries and looked over to Taichi.

"Yeah I think so. But he's not going to be there until he gets back from Takeru's, so you have enough time to prepare what you're going to say."

Taichi looked down and nodded solemnly, unconsciously thinking over the possibilities that what could go wrong and slowly beginning to dread his inevitable meeting with his lover.

"Are you going to come with me?"

Daisuke shrugged his shoulders and pocketed his phone.

"If you want me to then I will. But it's not like I could help you or anything. I might even make it worse by being there."

"So...I'm on my own from here."

Daisuke couldn't stand to see the boy he'd so admired looking so lost. Taichi had always been the one that was certain of whatever he did. And yet, he was sitting on a rotting bench, hunched into himself, looking pathetically sorry for himself. It was for this reason that Daisuke found it difficult to stay mad at Taichi. He thought that he'd loath the man for the burdens he put on his loved ones. But now that he realised that Taichi put equal burdens upon himself, he didn't excuse his behaviour, but overlooked it to see that good person that Taichi always had been beneath all of the shit he'd gotten up to.

The hand he placed upon the muscled shoulder to him represented acceptance. Forgiveness.

"Good luck."

He mumbled, and Taichi finally revealed an inkling of a smile. Never mind if it was coated in sarcasm from crease to crease, it was certainly more comforting to look at than his frown.

"Thanks, Daisuke. I'm going to need as much luck as I can fucking get."

He laughed awkwardly and Daisuke joined in soon after.

"Just, don't go saying anything stupid and try to stand up for yourself. Just grovel like you've never grovelled before. Okay?"

"Yeah."

---

"Yamato? Wh-what are you doing here?"

Takaishi Natsuko was pressed against the wood of the open door as she looked to her eldest son, who stood soaked on her front porch from the spontaneous torrent of rain. Cleaning the rainwater from his face and squinting his eyes he spoke with a raised volume over the sound of soaring water breaking against the pavement.

"Is Takeru here?"

She nodded dumbly for a moment, trying to recover from the shock of seeing him after so long. Her voice only found her after she'd coughed into her hand and pushed off from the door to stand on her own without support.

"Y-Yes, he's upstairs. I'll just call him down for-"

"Don't bother, I'll go upstairs. Sorry for the intrusion."

She didn't have time to move out of his way. He avoided her eyes completely as he ducked under her arm and around her to the stairs.

Takeru's bedroom door was shut but locked. His mother didn't dare to go into the room of her young son when he shot the door, wanting to stay a stranger to the private matters of the young man. Yamato didn't bother to knock and just waltzed in unannounced, which turned out to be a wise decision when he caught his brother in the act of relighting the spliff that he'd been sucking on. After jumping in shock at his brother's entry Takeru wildly tried to direct the smoke out of the window he sat next to by waving his arms

"Nii-chan! What are-"

With little change of expression Yamato stalked towards him and snatched the let paper from his hand and bent down to meet his brother eye to eye. He held it towards Takeru's face and spoke with a condescending tone.

"Weed is for hippies and people that haven't got anything better to do with their time. Don't suffocate your brain while you still need to use it."

"But you used to-"

Before allowing Takeru to retaliate, Yamato threw it out of the open window, and Takeru kept his eyes on it the whole time as it descended to the garden beneath his window. The smoke even continued to sift towards his window, as though it were taunting him.

"Takeru."

Yamato's tense hands clutching at his shoulders drew his attention away from the wasted spliff. The darker eyes that held more wisdom were at that moment stricken, glimmering with a sort of impossible hope that his suspicions were incorrect.

"Takeru, did you take my car?"

He didn't get one of the few reactions that he'd expected from Takeru. His younger brother just widened his eyes and tensed up. Yamato growled instead of exhaled and tightened his hold on Takeru's shirt just that little bit to get his point across. He'd never even imagine inflicting pain upon his sibling.

"Takeru, I'm not going to fuck around with this. I am being deadly serious."

"Why ask me?"

Takeru murmured and avoided Yamato's eyes. Letting go of his brother's shoulders Yamato crossed his arms and sat on the desk in Takeru's room, only a foot away from where he'd previously stood. With his arms folded and face stern he looked like a lecturing father rather than a cool older brother, but Yamato knew that he played both parts in Takeru's life anyway.

"My car is in the shop. Apparently it was sold to the owner that morning by a blond, blue eyed, nineteen year old punk. "

It didn't need to be voiced what he was implying. Takeru gripped his hair.

"Oh, Gods."

He groaned, as though he had just realized that the event hadn't been a dream like he had hoped; that he'd actually betrayed his brother in such a cruel way.

Seeing his little brother in pain still caused a reactive pain in Yamato as well, but he resisted well to hold and comfort the young male. But even if he couldn't necessarily hold him he felt that perhaps a close proximity would help to some point, so he sat on the bed, nearly pressed up against the young male who was hunched over his crossed legs. Yamato gave him a few moments of silence, allowing Takeru to get a grasp of his erratic breathing. When he realised that his brother wasn't going to calm down anytime soon he just chose to continue.

"Why, Takeru?"

"I'm sorry, okay. I'm so sorry. You have no idea how fucking terrible I feel about this."

"Then why do it? After all I did? I pick you up from a strange party at 3 am, I practically carry you back, I let you sleep in my bed while I'm on the floor-"

"I get it!"

Takeru jumped in with a desperate voice and ripped his hands from his head, nearly taking out half of his blond locks with them. He let out a deep and calm breath when he realised from the look on Yamato's face that getting hysterical wasn't going to help him solve the problem.

"I'm an ass hole. I get it. You don't have to make me feel worse about it."

"Yes I do, Takeru. I worked my whole life for that car. And now, unless I take this to court, I'm going to have to work for it all over again."

It felt horrible to try and manipulate Takeru with guilt, but it was better than his alternative, which would to give him a good beating like he would do when Taichi fucked up, and like his dad would do when he got too wise. At least this way Takeru would understand him better. The boy needed a lesson on empathy.

"What you did was really shitty, Takeru. I mean, parties and drinking are all a part of growing up and shit, I can understand that much. But this...this is..."

Yamato fell into a struggling silence. He twitched his fingers that gripped to his knees, as though he were about to pull the words he searched for from the thick, smoky air surrounding them.

"If this is because I didn't lend you money then...I don't know if I can forgive you so easily."

The words circled Takeru, who was sought after the right way to respond to his brother's painful words. Yamato had never said such a thing to him before. He thought that he'd always be able to rely on Yamato for forgiveness. Doubting such a thing seemed unfathomable.

Yamato forced eye contact.

"You should know that if I had the money then I would have given it to you. You're my baby brother and I would do anything for you. And I mean it when I say that."

He placed a strong emphasis on 'anything' and implying it with a universal meaning. If Takeru asked him to rob a bank or leave the country he would do it blindly without a moment of hesitation. He shook his head sorrowfully.

"You didn't have to do something like this."

Takeru jumped to standing and looked down at his brother with a solid gaze. His voice wavered beneath the volume of his words.

"I wasn't thinking! I had debts and problems that I couldn't fix on my own, and mum refused to accept how difficult it all was for me. She didn't even react when I told her the amount that I actually owed. It wasn't until I paid back the guys that I finally started thinking straight."

He didn't wait for a response and went straight for his sports bag that leant against the door. Yamato watched as Takeru carelessly tipped everything through the floor and scavenged its contents carelessly, throwing things across the room when they got in his way. Afterwards he went back to the bed where Yamato was still sitting calmly and handed him an envelope, bursting full with a colourful range of crumpled notes.

"Here's what's left of what I got paid. Can you buy it back with this?"

He held it out with a shaking hand and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, just in case Yamato saw any traces of residue that would tell him that he was about to cry. Yamato took it slowly, not caring to look at Takeru's face when he knew that he would only feel worse if he truly realised how much pain he had caused Takeru.

When he looked in the envelope he realised that it had not been quite as full as he thought. Most of them were small notes. It probably added up to quite a lot, but with how much he could see had been spent he knew that he wouldn't be able to pay the difference, never mind the fact that the man at the shop was probably going to ask him to pay with interest. Yamato just shook his head and mumbled.

"I don't know."

He didn't see Takeru's face completely fall. Yamato stood up to leave with the money, thinking that there was no more to really say. Takeru knew he'd done wrong, and that was enough to truly satisfy him. Causing any more pain would just border on being sadistic.

"Nii-chan!"

But Takeru didn't think that the conversation was over. He grappled to Yamato's sleeve with a quick hand.

"I never did this to hurt you! Please, believe me!"

A series of loud knocks on the bedroom door halted Yamato before he was able to answer. His mother's voice rose from the crack under the door.

"Takeru? What's going on? I heard shouting."

"Nothing, mum. Just go away!"

The mother blonde ignored her son's temper and opened the door anyway to see her younger son clutching to the arm of his brother with a tearful face. She sternly looked to the taller of the two, misreading the situation in her own ways.

"Yamato, if your being here is going to cause hostility then I don't want you in my house."

"Mum, Don't! Yamato was just-"

"I was just about to leave anyway."

He coldly gazed at his mother and watched her match his icy glare tenfold, after all, his eyes were born from hers. She followed the figure of her older son with her eyes dismissively as he briskly blew past her and out of the bedroom door. Takeru had unconsciously let go of Yamato's sleeve as soon as his mum had ordered him to leave, but now that he'd seen Yamato leave the room he dashed after him. He looked over the banister from the top of the stairs to see Yamato reach for the latch on the front door.

"Wait! Nii-chan!"

His call was ignored, and Yamato showed no sign of second guessing himself as he walked out onto the street and slammed the front door behind him. He pocketed the envelope and stood on the porch for a few moments. The street lights had been turned on, and now the street looked so different; unwelcoming and almost frightening. If he had his car he wouldn't have minded too much, he could drive home in the safety of his vehicle. But the bus stop was two dauntingly long streets away, and the alleys that were used as shortcuts had no lights whatsoever, seeming like dark portals that sucked the light from the world.

So he began to walk the long route at a snail's pace. The first form of life that he met along his way was an 'open all hours' corner shop that he took his time to become acquainted with, with the help of the new money that his brother had given him.

---

He could feel the wet of the stony pavement soak through the back of his work trousers, though he was numb to the cold that the water would have usually caused in his naked skin. It just went to show that the bottle of cheap Sake that he had just purchased was doing its job, as were the cheap pack of cigarettes. By how good it felt to be intoxicated again Yamato knew he couldn't trust himself with the new money he'd come in to. If he had his way at the moment he'd spend every last penny of it on bottle after bottle of liquor, cheap unfiltered cigarettes, and a bucket to throw up in when he got bored of them. And to think, after saying to himself that he had matured and moved past his wild phase, he still found his old romance with booze to be as passionate as it had been when he was young and reckless.

With his unsteady hand, Yamato raised the cigarette to take another drag, but his arm was so weak that it took him several tries until the paper actually met his lips. He took a greedy drag of its fumes and held it in his lungs until he felt dizzy. He watched the smoke rise from the lit ash like a spectre that died in a struggle with the night breeze that broke it apart. His lids hung heavy over his darkened eyes and his broken lips had been pulled back to bare his teeth. He wasn't even wearing his jacket and his shirt collar had been opened when the feeling of choking became too much to bear, but despite the fresh remains of rain and the cold he looked like he barely noticed the temperature. The only signs of discomfort would be his foot that was tapping on the road from his sitting position on the side of the pavement. Every so often a car would drive down the empty road and spare a glance to the lone man that sat in the puddle by himself on the floor, but they wouldn't think too much of it once they caught sight of the empty bottle of alcohol beside him.

Yamato held in his other hand the envelope that Takeru had presented to him. It was thick, and heavy. It had been a long time since he seen that kind of money all together. The weight felt so good in his hand. To think that the key to solving all of his financial problems had been his ride to work made him think that he had been selfishly fooling himself by trying to keep a hold of his only luxury. If he'd sold it sooner then perhaps his life would have turned out very differently.

"Oh God."

He moaned and pulled at his hair. Since when had money become his meaning in life? He never used to be like this, and he pitied people that were so attached to objects. And yet here he was, treating an envelope of money like it was his God in life. Fucking hypocrite.

Angrily he tried to stuff the envelope into his back pocket, but something was obstructing it. In frustration it fished out that something and was startled to pull it out. A brochure. Wanting to give that bundle of paper all of his attention Yamato tucked the full envelope securely between his legs to hold the brochure with both hands. There was a faded picture of the empire state building looking back at his smiling face. He rubbed at it with his thumb, though he was numb to feel its texture. He knew that he was definitely drunk if he was even remotely considering this idea, no matter how tempting it was.

America? The mentioning of it was preposterous.

He didn't speak the language. Although, he did use to take English lessons and still had that old dictionary somewhere in his room.

He didn't have anywhere to live. But, the money from his car could probably buy him a room for a little while until he got a steady job.

He couldn't just up and leave his current jobs, it'd be inconsiderate. Then again, he was on the brink of being fired from the cafe anyway, and he only had one day left at the school before the holidays started.

With every con that he could come up with, he found himself counteracting himself with just another reason to go through with this daring scheme. It must have been the Sake talking. He just kept reminding himself not to get worked up into a frenzy. It'd be bet to sober up before making such a decision.

But, sober Yamato would obviously say no. And drunk Yamato didn't want to go back to work, or go back home, or go anywhere in Japan for that matter. He wanted to go to America, and fuck what sober Yamato would say.

The patter of another torrent of fresh rain fell upon his shoulders. With a sigh he fell back onto the floor, allowing himself to be basted with the filthy water, with the fresh water falling into his gaping mouth. The pattering of each raindrop was euphonious, thrumming like the drums of a million toy soldiers. When he laughed to himself he finally felt a shiver course through him. It seemed like it was time to buy another bottle of Sake, but for now it would be sensible to get out of the rain.

He tossed aside his extinguished cigarette and held his jacket over his head as he ran, clutching to the brochure and the envelope like they were a banister that would help him stand when his legs wobbled. The first shelter he found ironically was a phone box. It felt like destiny was pushing him in the direction that she so chose for him. It made him smile. Yes, drunk Yamato apparently believed in lady destiny, and who was he to go against her wishes?

He stumbled into the broken booth, nearly hitting his head on the phone box. Mumbling pleas and hopes he rummaged through every pocket for a few coins. He had an envelope of cash, but didn't have any damn change to make a phone call. Just when he was about to give up he saw it on the floor. A shining prize of a coin that was perfect to make his call. He thanked lady destiny once again as he put the coin in the slot and began dialling the number that had been written on the back of the brochure. He was bouncing off of the vandalised metal cage of the phone booth in anxiety, drumming his fingers against the phone and shaking out his jacket of rain. Then before the person had barely answered Yamato jumped in to speak.

"Watanabe-san, does your offer still stand?"

---

From some indiscernible reason the key just wouldn't fit in the lock. He'd been carelessly trying to shove the object into the brass mould but it wouldn't fit. That is, until common sense hit him like a ton of bricks and he decided to turn the key the right way up. Voila the door opened, showing a half lit, cold, dusty apartment as his prize. He would have laughed could he feel his lips. His face was completely numb from the alcohol to the point where he couldn't tell if he was smiling or frowning.

"Yama!"

A voice called out to him. The subject being addressed was so disoriented that he turned around back into the hallway he'd come from, thinking that the voice had come from that direction. But the hand that grabbed his shoulder from inside the apartment revealed a different result. Yamato's vision was so hazy and unfocused everywhere that his sight scanned over just about everything except for the face of his captor. But from the few glimpses of wild, dark hair and a tanned hand he could have easily guessed who it was.

"What are you doing here?"

His voice sounded surprisingly sober, despite the fact that he was heavily relying on the hand on his shoulder to stop him from falling backwards completely into the open hall. Taichi ignored his unbalanced footing and solely concentrated on the fact that Yamato was now here, in front of him, in what may soon be a vital moment in his life.

"What's important is that I'm here, and that I've been waiting for five fucking hours. Where have you been?"

Taichi tried to pull Yamato into the apartment and close the door, using force when he could obviously see that Yamato wasn't himself. He put a hand to the small of Yamato's back to lead him in. His touch only lasted long enough for him to feel that the thin shirt was soaked through completely to the warm skin beneath.

"You're soaking wet! Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Concern completely overtook any kind of anxiety that he had felt before Yamato had arrived. He pawed at the soaking black shirt so to bring it to Yamato's attention, who seemed blind to the fact that his whole body was shivering. He only pushed at Taichi's chest with as much force and false sobriety as he could muster and stormed past him towards his bedroom. Taichi was unfazed by the physical rejection and simply stormed after the retreating head of dripping blond hair. He continued his lecture as Yamato made his way through the home with Taichi trailing behind him.

"I've been worried sick waiting for you! Do you hear me?"

Yamato simply ignored him and had his eyes locked on the open door of his bedroom while he made his way around the living area. Taichi was still talking at him when he reached his room and Yamato had gotten to the point where he needn't bother ignoring Taichi anymore, because he wasn't even aware that he was still talking. That is, until he went to grab his duffel bag from under the bed and Taichi's hand shot out to grab his wrist before he could reach it. In a calm daze, Yamato stared at Taichi's darkened cheeks, hard eyes and the pulsating rises of veins across his neck, each tensing in boiling anger and frustration.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Taichi screamed into him, in no way affecting the serene expression on Yamato's face. In complete calm Yamato easily lifted the hand that was clamped on his wrist, not breaking his eyes away from Taichi.

"No, so you can shut up now."

He used his new hold on Taichi's wrist to guide him to the door of his bedroom, and Taichi was too angry and disoriented to refuse Yamato's physical guidance.

"Then start listening to me, Yama! This is important!"

After having screamed at the top of his lungs, Taichi surprisingly found himself shouting to the paint of Yamato's bedroom door. He hadn't realised he'd been led out of the room, nor that Yamato had closed the door in his face. With a shocked twist of the door handle he discovered that, yes, it was locked. This dismissive indifference that was being shown to him coaxed the fire of rage within him, but he didn't let it take rule over him. He knew that Yamato wouldn't pay proper attention to him if he were blindly swearing and stamping his foot.

"Yama."

He cooed gently, despite the frustration within him that was bouncing against his chest in hopes for a fiery release. Wetting his lips he leant his cheek against the cool surface of the door in hopes that Yamato might hear him better.

"I know that you know what happened last night. I came to my senses this morning and...I think I've reached an important point in my life."

He tried to make his voice sound soft and calm, the burning love he felt for this man melted his anger, which became dripping tears that fell onto his cheeks. He sniffed against the wood of the door; his hands tracing over the grooves and cracks in the wood.

"I've hurt you so much, and you have no idea how sorry I am for everything. No amount of apologies could make up for the shit that I've pulled on you. And I know that you..."

In his room, Yamato wasn't listening to a word being said. He occasionally heard the word 'sorry' being repeated several times, but other than that, Taichi's words were just white noise. He focused on packing his bag with what he could fit into it, not properly thinking about what he needed. When he phoned the cab company he was distracted enough to even forget his address for a few minutes until he checked out of his window to look for the road name.

Several pairs of jeans; fifteen boxer shorts; a few beaten jumpers and shirts; two pairs of shoes; passport; only things that were necessary. He knew that when he got there he could replace most of his things with the new money he'd gotten. And with every item that he packed in his bag, he took a swig from the liquor bottle he'd placed on his night stand, not bothering to think about the repercussions that might come from being drunk in an airport. Airport security be damned, there was no way that he'd be able to go through with this if he was sober.

The tattered duffel bag just about zipped up once it had been filled, and the empty liquor bottle was carelessly thrown out of the window to lay smashed to pieces on the gravel of the parking lot beneath his room. When Yamato lifted the bag that was fit to burst onto his shoulder he drunkenly toppled sideways under the weight before regaining his footing, brushing his hair coolly as though he hadn't just downed two bottles of hard liquor in one hour. The muffled whining that he could hear through the door told him that Taichi was still pouring his heart out and sobbing on the other side, the fact that he had yet to hear any kind of acknowledging reply going unnoticed.

With a last frisk to his pockets to check that he had everything, Yamato stormed over to the locked door and prepared to be mauled by the whining dog that waited for him on the other side. When he unlocked the door her felt a drunken smile twitch at his lips, but suppressed it so to humour Taichi in his attempts at being heartfelt and serious.

Taichi stepped back in surprise once he felt the vibrations of the tumblers working within the lock of the door.

"Yama?"

He questioned to the silhouette at the door, although not sure what it was that he was questioning. By the looks of the blond man before him everything was clear; the wavering of his stance, the full bag wrapped over his shoulder and the winter jacket he held over his arm.

"I don't know why I agreed to be on bottom for all these years. You're the one that cries like a fucking girl."

Yamato hadn't meant for it to come out sounding as spiteful or offensive as it did. He'd just seen his swollen eyes and thought 'Oh Gods. He's going to cry again'. He'd obviously regret the horrible insult once he had sobered up and realised that the look on Taichi's face was of pain and shock. But, for now, he just dismissed the wounded expression of his lover, and the tears that fell anew from his wide eyes. He simply stormed by him towards the front door. Taichi trailed behind him, lingering close enough to smell the remains of smoke on Yamato's skin from the pack of cigarettes that he'd had. He chose not to say anything about the awful habit.

"Where are you going? Weren't you listening to a word I just said? I just poured my heart out to you and-"

"I told you before that I wasn't listening, so it's your own damn fault for wasting your breath on a big speech."

Yamato blurted out, searching through the shoe rack with a shaky sight to find his favourite brogues that he wanted to take with him. Feeling that the swaying of his body was too much to handle Yamato leant back against the wall, falling back harder than he would have liked. Taichi who had watched the ordeal finally clocked on why Yamato seemed so out of character, making insults far too boldly than he would normally.

"Are you drunk?"

He howled incredulously. Yamato turned to him with a laugh.

"Are you drunk?"

He shot back, answering Taichi's question without meaning to. Taichi palmed his face in embarrassment at the intoxicated being before him. Meanwhile, behind the two of them, the form of a drowsy older man stumbled out of his bedroom to investigate what noise had woken him from his unsettled slumber.

"What the fuck is going on? Yamato? What's with the bag?"

With a sigh Taichi turned round to face the bleary eyed man.

"Yamato's drunk, Mr Ishida. I don't think he knows what he's doing."

"Hey!"

Yamato pushed Taichi from behind while he was turned away, not realising the amount of strength he'd used until he saw Taichi stumble onto his knees from the force of the push. He hid any signs that would give away that it was an accident and held to his ground when Taichi looked up at him with confusion. He bent forward so to get a better look into those brown eyes, but not so far that he would lose his balance and topple forward.

"I'm not like you! Even when I'm drunk, I know exactly what I'm doing!"

He gave the surprised Taichi a sharp nudge to the shoulder as he stared him down with solid resolve. His twitching brow and fiery glare hinted the personal attack in his words that was directed at Taichi. If he'd gone that step further to hurt Taichi he would have replaced the 'what' to a 'who' in his statement, but even when he was drunk he knew better than to bring up such an argument when his further was only a few feet away.

Taichi, who was turned on his knees to face Yamato, paled completely at the comment. This person towering over him was not the same Yamato he had come to know over the years. Although Yamato had once been rebellious and hard spoken, this kind of cruelty wasn't the same. Yamato may have spoken this way to a loathed enemy, but never to Taichi. Not even when they fought at their worst did he ever be so blunt and crude. Even his features, though obviously belonging to Yamato, were different in obvious ways, making him look like a stranger to Taichi. The eyes were a distant, empty blue with red tingeing the corners of white, the cheeks sunk and sullen with dark shadows looming across his pasty skin, and thin white lips, crack and stretched into a dark sneer. No; the Yamato that Taichi knew had never been capable of pulling off such a horrid expression.

It hurt to look for too long at Taichi's conflicted face. Though the tears had stopped there was obviously pain behind the dark of his eyes. And Yamato couldn't just see it seeping through the dark orbs, he could feel it. That stern grimace he wore faltered for that second when his heart ached at the sight of Taichi. So, instead of resolving the problem and trying to soothe Taichi's sadness that inadvertently made him sad himself, he simply looked away. With one long step he climbed over Taichi towards his father who was still rubbing his tired eyes in the doorway of his bedroom.

Stumbling in silence with his eyes lowered, Yamato dug around in the pocket of his jacket until he managed to grab a hold of the envelope of money only by luck. He pulled out a handful of notes, not caring to count at all and held them out to his father once he had reached him.

"Don't spend it all at once."

Mr Ishida took the offering more out of reflex than the desire for more money, so the surprise that hit him once he counted the amount stunned him to silence; too stunned to ask the reason for such a donation.

"And this is for you."

Yamato handed another handful to Taichi whose legs still refused to obey him and lift him from his position on the floor. He looked at the hand that held the money, and then to the tired man that offered it. Similar to Yamato's father, he held his hand out for the money out of reflex rather than the want to accept it.

"What's this for?"

"My substitute."

Yamato absently stated and tucked the envelope back into his pocket while he made his way to the door. With every step closer he took to leaving the voice in Taichi's head screamed louder for him to get up and do something. At first when he began to react he could barely stand, desperately scrambling on his knees over to Yamato who was reaching for the door handle. When his fingers snagged the corner of Yamato's winter coat he held to it fast and with all the strength he could, nearly pulling Yamato down with him to the floor.

"Yama, I don't want your money."

He pleaded with a watery voice as he moved his grip onto Yamato's forearm, trying as he could to pull him away from the door. All was in vain. A simple throw of Yamato's arm and Taichi had been pushed away once again, looking into the empty tundra of Yamato's icy glare.

"Really now? You weren't saying that a few days ago."

Silence lingered. Mr Ishida looked on in pain to see his son finally reach the limit that he had been too blind to accept existed. Neither would have admitted to it, but Yamato and his mother were much more alike than they would believe. He looked exactly as she did all those years ago; cold eyes, shaking hands, teeth gritted with such tension that they should have shattered. The only difference being that Natsuko had cried; something that Yamato had not done in a very long time.

Taichi cried in his stead.

Once Yamato saw that Taichi wouldn't be able to stand up for himself in the state that he was in, he lost interest in trying to fight and quickly swiped open the door to leave, not bothering to close it behind him either. This helped to hasten Taichi's exit when he rushed after him, closely followed by Mr Ishida who had completely forgotten that he was still in his sleeping gear.

"Wait!"

Taichi called out, catching up to Yamato as he was diligently descending the metal staircase with his heavy bag and unsteady feet.

"Yama, be reasonable! Please, don't leave when you're drunk. You're not thinking straight. Can't we just have a sober conversation before you storm out? Where are you even going?"

Taichi had wiped his face clear of any tears as he rushed down the stairs after him. The rain still pattered onto the crumbling pavement when they reached the outside. It was thudding melodically onto the heavy body of the car that Yamato had called for. Taichi saw it and panicked. He leapt over the final step and snatched onto a fistful of Yamato's jacket, effectively pulling the unsteady man backwards.

"Please, Yama. I don't want your money. Come over to my apartment, we can talk about this properly and-"

Pain. A bruising pain bloomed over Taichi's cheek and he wobbled to the hard floor when the face of Yamato swirled before him. He'd been hit on the same cheek as the night before, with the same fist. Taichi cringed when he felt the wobble in his back tooth and clutched to his face. Yamato's punches were a lot more painful when he was sober enough to feel them, even if his aim had been slightly off due to his lack of balance.

Yamato hadn't really known why he'd done it. He'd just felt the warmth of Taichi's body approach him and he went into a sort of shock. He was brought out of his trance by the pain in his hand. He hadn't properly formed a fist when he'd punched Taichi, so he knew that he must have damaged one of his fingers.

He looked down to Taichi in a daze. The freckled cheek had already started to swell from the hit he'd given him before, and after this one it had clearly begun to form a bright pink bruise that spread up to his lower eye lid. It sat like a ripe rose upon his face or a stalk of sakura at full bloom. All tears had stopped completely, only the previous wave lingering like morning dew upon the flower. Taichi cupped the discoloration with dead fingers held up by a weak wrist.

In a sort of trance Yamato dropped next to Taichi, allowing his bag to flop onto the wet pavement. He looked to the bruise that peeked between Taichi's fingers with a childish fascination. He reached out slowly for it, forgetting about the waiting cab, his watching father and the water that was slowly beginning to seep into the fabric of his bag. All he cared for was the mark that he was guilty of making.

Taichi had forgiven Yamato's violence before he had even felt its force upon his face. The Yoke within his soul was far more painful than any wavering fist.

Before Yamato's fingers reached him he took hold of his narrow wrist so to lead the hand to his bruised cheek. He felt the sting of the bruise as pressure was applied from Yamato's chilled palm, but he nuzzled it anyway and threaded his hand between his fingers. Like a cooing baby he kissed and stroked the pale hand and wrist, pulling it closer as though he intended to wear it.

Yamato's mind could only conjure the most basic of thoughts while he observed Taichi. Such notions as 'this feels nice' to 'I feel guilty' seemed to flutter about on the empty wind within his head. So with simple actions he sought to satisfy simply needs. In need to rid himself of guilt he needed to eliminate the pained look on Taichi's face. And as a means to do that he decided to kiss him. If he'd known that even a small kiss would have made it worse he wouldn't have done it in the first place.

After the instant of contact between their lips, the ice that had frozen Taichi to the spot shattered and he leapt into the kiss with full force. While Yamato was hunched forward on his knees, practically motionless, Taichi was pawing at his yellow hair and rubbing at his neck in such a way that an observer might think that he was contemplating wringing it. He didn't wait for any kind of response and forced his way into the cavern of his lover's mouth, hoping to evoke something with the friction of his tongue against the other. Yamato tasted like tobacco and an array of alcohols but Taichi found himself unable to care. He just wanted to kiss him like this. Hold him like this. And keep him here always, like this. He didn't even know where Yamato was planning on going, and yet it felt like he was never going to see him again. It didn't matter if Yamato was just leaving to go to the store, Taichi just couldn't find the will to let him go. So Yamato found it for him.

With a gentle caress down his chiselled jaw Taichi seemed to calm down, and with the moment of peace Yamato drew away slowly. His will seemed absolute to Taichi. There was no struggle from him when Yamato banished him from the warmth of his lips. He just stared into hazed blue eyes that got further and further away as Yamato stood up, like an island that would fade from sight as he got further and further out to sea. The pale yet rough hand only finally withdrew from his face when it became out of reach once he stood to his full height.

Taichi was so mesmerised by Yamato's expression that he didn't see him pick up the bag, or walk backwards to the door of the cab, or even when he opened it. It wasn't until the stricken face was sheeted by a car window did he wake up to the situation.

"Yama!"

His fingers scraped upon the cold metal hip of the cab before it raced off with the man he loved caged within its stomach. He was set on the balls of his feet to chase after it, thinking he might be able to head it off at the stop lights, but a heavy hand loosely cupped his arm. He was so on edge that he practically jumped away from Mr Ishida like he was a predator set on him. He was met only by a tired smirk.

"Don't worry, Taichi. He's probably just going to stay at a hotel for a few days or something. He'll call soon enough. He used to do this all the time. He'll come back when he's stopped sulking."

Now that most of the drama was over the older man felt far more exhausted than he had when he went to bed. He left Taichi to stare at the tire tracks on the pavement as he shuffled back to the stairs and tightened his dressing gown around the bulge of his stomach. All the while Taichi stood with his eyes to the cab that had faded completely within the reflective glimmer of the Odaiba street lights on the remains of a rainstorm.

---

OKAY! I NEED YOU'RE HELP! I'm in trouble right now so I need the readers' opinions =/

In my old version of the fic there were a lot of original characters, which is the main reason why I discontinued it and started again. I dislike too many OCs in the fics I read so I assume that the public think the same, right? I mean, you read a fanfic to get a story mainly about your favourite characters, and no matter how well designed and original these OCs are, I just can't seem to care for them too much. So, THIS IS WHERE YOU LOT COME IN!

Yamato is going to have sex with someone other than Taichi at some point (don't hate me for it)

So I need you guys to tell me which male character you would most like to put in bed with Yamato. Personally I love JyouxYamato but I know that it isn't to a lot of people's preferences. Also, it can't be Daisuke, because he's already got a role in this fic.

So leave a review telling me your desired person, then I'll add it all up and do the writing. Kay?

After that, I won't really need any more tips and stuff, so you get to just sit back and enjoy all the angsty drama that I have in store.

Thankyou so much to all the people that have reviewed

Kirakira
PantomBoo
Arrienete
KoumiLoccness
Sumi19
TheVideoGameResearcher
fallingleaf1111
Ninor-san
terracannon876
Poetic Dancer
Kairin

It's awesome guys like you that keep me writing =D

Also, I just thought that it'd be fun for you to know that I got that quote about hippies from my Dad. Ironically I was a bit of a hippie at the time, but it made me laugh XD
Okay, it's very late, I've been working on this chapter for weeks, and I've worn myself out from playing in the snow so I'm going to bed now. (I made my first ever life size snowman XD There's finally snow in London. About damn time we got our share!)

Laterrrz people. I haven't proof read because it's too long, but if you see mistakes, please tell me about them so I can fix them.

Bed. Of. Nails. And. Sandpaper

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