Money and Martyrdom
Tokyo was as busy as always, and a morning walk was beginning to seem like a foolish notion as Yamato dodged another stubborn pedestrian that refused him access to walk in a straight line. But, at least the mid morning breeze woke him up properly. He'd desperately resisted sleeping beyond eight hours and had felt sluggish all morning until he'd gathered the courage to step out into the cold. His walk was aimless and lacking any sense of direction. He was so distracted he barely even noticed when the buttons of his coat slipped open, exposing his lightly dressed torso to a Japanese winter.
His mind had been orbiting the events of the previous night since he'd been conscious. It all felt so surreal and his lack of sleep had left his memories seeming like the remains of a dream. Of course they weren't, otherwise he wouldn't have needed a walk to calm his feelings of panic and terror. Being half conscious as he was when he'd been reunited with Takeru and his father he didn't really think about all the things that were in store for him now. And the offer of dinner! How could he ever think to accept it?! He'd truly doomed himself.
But,the thought of seeing Sora was nice. Their friendship had slowly fizzled out after Taichi and himself had officially come out to the gang. He wondered if she was still a tomboy and what career she'd fallen into. Mimi's life was also an object of intrigue. The last time he'd talked to her about her career she'd said that she wanted to find a handsome, foreign duke to marry who would whisk her away to his manor in the countryside. Although that idea didn't seem entirely implausible, Yamato considered that perhaps she may have changed her mind and decided to pursue a career for herself.
Then there was Jyou and Koushirou; two misfits whose lives he could happily make assumptions about. Kind hearted Jyou would be probably doctoring; maybe not a fully fledged doctor just yet but he'd be well on his way.
As for Koushirou, Yamato could only guess that it was something to do with electronics or computers. He was always known to be more than just savvy with computers. He was practically one of them by the way he stored information and talked in a sort of code that only those of a higher intelligence could decipher.
Then, there was Taichi.
Yamato had no assumptions about what kind of life he lived now. He hadn't thought about him long enough to do so. Of course the thought had provoked him, but he always worked to dismiss it before he began to dwell. He could only wish him well.
His wish to slow time had hardly worked for him so far, and the dreaded dinner was looming. He thought of maybe getting drunk beforehand. The fridge in his hotel stored miniature bottles with the perfect amount of alcohol to give him a bit of courage without making him arrogant. But, then again, what kind of impression would he make by arriving drunk at their first reunion in five years or so. They'd think that he didn't want to be there. Well...that was technically true, but he didn't want them to know that. That's just rude.
Yamato recognised that he'd made a loop around the city and was on the way to returning to his hotel room. The people were dispersing as he moved further away from the busy centre of the city and the shops gave way to apartment buildings and houses as he entered a more suburban area. Without so many tall buildings to block the wind Yamato felt the bitter cold and wrapped his coat around him, shutting away his exposed torso. It was colder than when he'd first arrived. It was just another reminder of what time of year it was and what he was missing back at his American home. Ken would be critically choosing a tree and teaching Yamato all about the American customs of Christmas. They'd drink warming drinks together and sit on the sofa with Butter, watching a cheesy Christmas special that they'd both light heartedly mock. Then Ken would get a call from his parents that he didn't want and Yamato would try his best to make him laugh while on the phone. They hadn't shared many holidays together, but it seemed now that they'd already set up a sort of tradition. He missed it. It was the first time he felt like part of a family since the divorce of his parents.
Never mind. Maybe, with all the changes he had witnessed, he had a chance to be a part of his real family. A sober father and an emotionally stable brother was a promising start to repair the bond that had been damaged. And so, he decided that maybe this dinner wouldn't be so bad. It was a difficult start to something possibly great, and getting drunk or running away from such an opportunity would be a bullet to the foot by his own hand.
Two knocks. It took a while for him to receive any response. Had he knocked loud enough? Should he do it again? Was there a doorbell he hadn't seen that he needed to ring? He clenched his fingers tighter around the neck of the bottle and saw a shadow approach the door through the window.
Takeru opened it slowly and revealed himself wearing a casual t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Yamato knew he'd over dressed. He'd hidden his button shirt under his leather jacket, but his suit slacks were still visible.
"You're a little early."
Yamato scratched his cheek and lifted the bottle of wine in offering.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I didn't plan out my journey too well. Is it alright that I'm here early? I bear gifts."
Takeru fretfully accepted the bottle from him and tucked it under his arm, ushering his guest into the warmth of his home.
"Oh, thanks. Yeah, of course it's alright. Sora's running a little late though, so she's not here yet. But Jyou's here, and Mimi and-"
Hikari approached from behind and peered over his shoulder at Yamato with a giggle.
"Basically most of us. Why don't you just come in and see for yourself?"
"Good idea."
With the bottle out of his hands Yamato was free to untie the laces of his boots and slip out of them into a pair of guest slippers. Both Takeru and Hikari noticed how he took his time to change his shoes with care instead of typically stretching the leather to their limit to do the minimal amount of work. Upon stepping up onto the floor of the main hallway he even offered a bashful smirk, displaying his insecurities to the both of them with a simple expression.
"Everyone's in the living room. I'm just going to put this bottle in the kitchen."
Yamato nodded while Hikari took the bottle from Takeru and scampered off down the hall. He observed the house while Takeru lead the way to the living room. It was simple and decorated in a minimalist style, most probably by Hikari's suggestion. They'd done well for themselves. Well, the couple weren't officially earning at the moment, but the house looked expensive for what they must be paying to rent it.
He took a deep breath as Takeru stood beside a closed door, preparing to open it. He thought back to what Takeru and Hikari had said. Who was on the other side? She'd said most of the people were there. Who counted as most? Who should he expect?
Takeru, oblivious to his brother's nervousness casually opened the door and walked straight in with no hesitation.
"Look who's here."
He announced and stepped aside. Yamato slowly entered like an adopted dog in a new home. He was cautious.
Everyone stood up upon his entry.
It was the same silence a prostitute would meet upon entering a packed church. All eyes turned to him with neither joy nor anger in their expressions; only shock. Yamato stood frozen, allowing his old friends to analyse all of his appearance until the most obvious person made the first move to make contact with him
"Yamato!"
Mimi, in a cream silk shirt and pencil skirt, weaved between the statues to throw her arms around his neck. After recovering from her body being thrown into him, Yamato uncertainly returned the embrace, placing his hand on the small of her back. He could feel the differences in her body after only a few years. She had to curve her spine to embrace him fully now that her chest had expanded, and Yamato was uncomfortably conscious of where his hands were in relation to the smooth hill of her rear as he felt the tip of the arch beneath his fingers. He pushed her away too soon for her liking, but her smile was bright and sincere when she looked up at him with a stubborn hand still clenched in the fabric over his shoulder.
"It's so good to see you! Sit down here. You look so well!"
She chatted on and lead him to a seat next to hers in the centre of the eyes. He observed each one of them as he followed after her, but found there to be fewer than he'd felt on him when he entered. Jyou and Koushirou were the only other occupants of the living room and Yamato felt himself deflate in relief. Once he was seated everyone else slowly lowered themselves into their seats as well, shifting in uncertainty much like he did. He nervously chuckled and kept his gaze low.
"Thanks, so do you."
He said quietly. The sound of his voice broadened her smile tenfold.
"Oh I'm so glad you think so. You came at the wrong time, though. I haven't had time to get my hair cut. Hikari just called me up while I was at work and told me you were back. I nearly spilt a whole pot of hot coffee down my designer dress. I was so shocked!"
She placed a hand on his knee and laughed. Hers seemed to be the only voice in existence. Everyone else remained seated merely looking on at the reunion that they should be a part of. Takeru and Hikari remained in the doorway monitoring their actions. After a while of Mimi telling Yamato more about how glad she was to see him and commenting on his healthy appearance she turned to look at the others in the room.
"Guys, it's Yamato! Why is no one saying anything? It's always me doing the talking."
She prompted and everyone shuffled in their seats, expecting someone else to take their turn to speak. Eventually Koushirou nervously sat up in his seat and stuttered his first words to Yamato.
"I-I apologise for my delayed reaction. I appear to still be in the late stages of shock."
Yamato smiled and tilted his head.
"That's fine, I guess. I'm still in shock myself. How are you?"
Koushirou opened and closed his mouth several times before his reply. He felt the urge to ramble bubble over his lips. He wanted to tell his friend about his job, his private research, his past and present projects and the woman at his work that he finally gathered the courage to approach with a romantic proposition. But, instead, he replied simply.
"Spectacular."
Yamato smiled warmly, knowing very well that Koushirou was summarising for his sake.
"Good to hear. What about you, Jyou?"
Jyou immediately sat upright in the dining room chair that had been brought into the living room for him.
"Great."
He squeaked before blushing and spluttering at the prepubescent pitch of his voice. The first to laugh was Yamato, which put a stop to anyone else who was about to laugh as well. It had been a long time since they'd heard him laugh with such sincerity - longer than the time that he'd spent apart from them. And with his amusement most everyone's uncertainty left them. Yamato had certainly changed, but not in ways that would upset anyone.
Mimi was the next to giggle and the last was Jyou, whose head was lowered sheepishly to hide the pink in his cheeks.
The tension had not entirely left the room. It still made itself known during short silences, stutters and looks that communicated more than the eyes could express. But, at least people were beginning to talk; mostly Mimi to Yamato, but it was a good start and it saved everyone else from struggling to find things to talk about. She asked questions with only a sentence pause for Yamato to answer and took it upon herself to tell him about what had been going on in all of their lives, leaving the others space to only nod in agreement with whatever she had been saying.
After a while the sound of the doorbell resounded throughout the house. Mimi didn't even falter while speaking, and no one else took genuine notice of it either. Hikari was the first to acknowledge it, sharing a glance with Takeru who sat next to her.
"That's Sora, I'm guessing. I'll be right back."
She hopped out of her chair, barely noticed by the now happily conversing group of friends. Upon opening the front door a dishevelled red head met her. Sora straightened her hair that had been ravaged by the wind and casually stepped into the low entryway of the home.
"Sorry I'm late. I brought wine. Three bottles will be enough, right?"
Hikari took the plastic bag of dark bottles with a slight jolt at the unexpected weight. Meanwhile Sora, who felt comfortable in the home as a common guest, began unfastening her coat to hang on one of the hooks by the door. Hikari waited next to her, prepared to escort her to the living room.
"Yes, that's more than enough. Yamato's already here by the way."
Sora nearly missed the peg when she reached to drop her coat onto it.
"He's here?! Oh damn. I thought I'd have time to prepare. Is he in the living room?"
She rushed to finish taking off her shoes and hopped up onto the wooden floor of the house, straightening her dress and tucking her hair behind her ears. Hikari nodded with a smile and moved the bag to hang on her arm.
"Yep. Just go right on in. He's not dangerous or anything."
"I know, I know. I'm just a little nervous. What's he like?"
Hikari laughed and stepped aside to allow Sora to walk past.
"Just go and see him. I'll put the bottles in the kitchen"
"Okay, okay."
With Hikari standing right at her back Sora felt that she had no choice but to move forward towards the living room. It was difficult to draw a satisfying breath with the tightness she felt in her throat. As she approached the entrance she heard a voice that seemed to pierce right through her chest.
"Well, I'm no James Dean, but I think I'm pretty well liked. I get paid well enough to perform."
"James Dean?"
"Never mind."
She heard him laugh lightly. She felt an old jealousy rise in her. Everything about him had always been so effortlessly charming. She almost wished that he didn't appear as well as he sounded. Almost. She'd never truly wish such a thing. At heart she hoped that he was healthy and happy. She'd never been able to dislike him enough to wish him misfortune. She only ever did it in private, far away from him, where she could hide her guilty desires.
She brushed a lock of hair from her face, hoping that she looked good enough to impress him, and sauntered in as casually as possible. Her friends were all sitting around him, listening intently with admiring expressions. He looked well. He looked healthy and handsome. He was smiling.
And she was glad for it.
"H-Hello."
She announced, not realising how meek and uncertain she sounded. Yamato turned to look at her first, with curious eyes. As soon as he recognised her he stood up hurriedly.
"Hi."
He smiled. She stepped forward and gladly embraced him.
"It's nice to see you again."
"You, too."
It was brief and slightly awkward, and although both noticed this they pulled back and warmly chuckled when they met each others' face in close proximity. Meanwhile the others looked on, concerned by Sora's sudden shyness.
"Well, don't let me interrupt. Finish telling your story. I wouldn't want you to have to repeat it."
"I've repeated it twice already. It wouldn't make much of a difference if I had to again."
He laughed and sat back down, inviting her to sit next to him by the way he shuffled along to make space for her.
They all sat and talked casually. It was almost like old times, except that a grassy field had been replaced with a warm and comfortable living room and the drinks were legal. Once everyone had gotten comfortable and conversation was flowing Hikari brought out several plates of homemade snacks for her guests to pick out and with everyone's first bite they exclaimed how impressed they were with her skills.
A while into the evening, after draining the first bottle of wine, Yamato subtly leant over in his seat to lowly speak to Takeru.
"Sorry, uh...where's your bathroom?"
"Oh, it's just at the end of the hall on the left. Could you grab another bottle of wine from the kitchen on your way back? They're in the cupboard by the sink."
Takeru asked, ignoring Hikari's look of warning that he would ask something of a guest in their house.
"Will do. I'll be right back."
He stood up with a slight wobble after being seated for so long and smiled apologetically at who he passed as he left the room. As soon as he was gone Mimi piped up with a girlish smile
"He's changed so much, hasn't he?"
"It's inevitable. The American climate is said to deviate a lot more dramatically than here."
Mimi rolled her eyes at Koushirou's interjection.
"I'm not just talking about his tan. I mean...his atmosphere. I can't explain it. It's like..."
"It's like how he used to be when we were kids."
Sora finished for her and Mimi nodded energetically, grateful that someone else felt the same way.
"Exactly! This is just like one of our old reunions now."
Everyone agreed without words. Yamato certainly had returned to his old boyish self. His smile was youthful and coy, his banter was slightly roguish and suggestive and his mannerisms were relaxed and nonchalant, as though he were once again fulfilling his role as the cool kid of the group. A life in him had returned and spread around the room, making them all feel as though they were young once again.
Mimi looked around the room, though, feeling as though there was something slightly off. There was a piece of the usual atmosphere missing. The playfulness that usually sparked most of the conversation and laughter wasn't present, and all because this liveliness stemmed from someone that wasn't there.
"All that's missing is Taichi. Why couldn't he come?"
She turned to Hikari with the innocent question and regretted it soon after once she saw the smile dissolve from her face.
"Well...um..."
Takeru's hand instantly went to her back as a soothing gesture. Although it was indeed a comfort, she still was unable to form an explanation. Sora, after finishing the final swig of her glass of wine, lowered it to the table with slightly more force than seemed natural and answered in her place.
"He wasn't invited."
Mimi swerved her head to look at Sora's unsettlingly blank expression. Mimi's brows were raised past her perfectly coiffed fringe and her hands were clenched in her skirt. She turned immediately back to Hikari.
"You didn't invite him?! Why?"
Hikari guiltily pushed Takeru's hand away from her and rearranged herself in her seat. She kept her eyes on the glass that she held delicately in her hands when she answered. Her voice was low and regretful.
"Well, we thought that it might not be the right time for him to see Yamato."
"So, we're keeping him a secret? That's just...it's cruel!"
Sora jumped in, contradicting Mimi's high pitched, wailing tone with her own low and calm reply.
"It's not cruel. We don't know how he'd react. Yamato's not staying, Mimi."
Mimi rocketed out of her seat, spinning on the balls of her feet to make sure Sora got the frontal view of her outrage. Her blusher was no longer visible now that her entire face matched the scarlet that she had so meticulously applied to her cheeks.
"That doesn't matter! Taichi should still know!"
The room went silent. Sora didn't look Mimi in the face at all. In fact, everyone's eyes seemed to be occupied by something apparently far more interesting behind her. She turned around abruptly as soon as she realised, smoothing down any hair that had strayed while she had temporarily lost her temper.
Yamato stood at the door with an indecipherable expression. He held the unopened wine bottle limply in his hand, with his other uncertainly pressed against the door frame.
"I was going to ask where your cork screw is, but I see that I've interrupted something important."
He didn't sound at all apologetic. In fact, Takeru would say that he meant his politeness to be sarcastic since he knew his brother so well. Sora shook her head.
"Don't worry about-"
"He should worry about it!"
"Mimi!"
Mimi abruptly sat down, still fuming at her recent discovery. She knew that Taichi had been having trouble recently, but she had not seen it firsthand. She hardly knew that the decision had been made for his own good. All she could think about was the torture he put himself through, pining over Yamato's absence in his life. She edged away from Sora as far as possible on the sofa, pressing her hip against the arm and turning her body away with a huff. Sora only sighed sadly.
Hikari and Takeru needed only to share a glance before standing up in unison.
"I'll uncork the wine."
She mumbled and briskly walked forward to take the bottle from Yamato's hand. She brushed past him to the kitchen and Takeru, who had been following behind, took hold of Yamato's arm and dragged him along with them. They left a silence in the room.
Yamato allowed himself to be pulled along to the kitchen. He kept silent and leant against the counter next to Takeru while Hikari fetched the cork screw from one of the many drawers. Takeru and Hikari were both solemn in their expressions and Yamato could only wait in nervousness for them to speak. Hikari left the corkscrew on the counter next to the bottle, but she didn't bother with any action after that. Instead she turned to Yamato slowly and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.
"You've obviously realised that Taichi isn't here. It wasn't because he didn't want to see you."
"Oh?"
"We didn't invite him. He's been...not well."
By the way that she hesitated Yamato knew that there was more to the story than him being just 'unwell'. He felt a tightening in his stomach and wasn't sure if it was out of worry for Taichi or for himself. He gripped the counter behind him and looked to Takeru to see if he would reveal anything more in his face than Hikari did.
"Is he okay?"
"That's debatable."
Takeru scoffed before tilting his head apologetically to Hikari for interrupting. She continued with no change to the low, regretful tone in her voice.
"We're not sure if he should know that you're here."
Yamato crossed his arms, becoming frustrated with only receiving pieces of information.
"Okay. So, he's 'not well'...because of me?"
"Not-...I can't put it like that. It's no one's fault. Things have just sort of been...building up. You saw the start of it before you left and...well, this is what's happened since then. He's a different person. If you saw him now, it wouldn't be Taichi. So we thought, at least until he's fixed up a bit, that you shouldn't see him."
"But that's not a final decision."
Takeru added on abruptly. Hikari looked at him and nodded slowly.
"No. It's not."
The couple held eye contact for quite a while as though a silent conversation were occurring between them. Yamato raised a hand to his forehead, feeling a pulsing pain begin to grow from the base of his skull.
"Sorry. I'm a little confused. What do you want me to do?"
They both looked at him pointedly before Hikari turned and finally twisted the screw into the cork of the bottle.
"Well, what could you do?"
She said casually and punctuated her question by extracting the cork from the bottle with a swift pop. She left the used screw as it was on the counter and picked up the bottle delicately but with a certain stiffness to her hand. Yamato saw only the profile of her serene expression. She made it sound like it was a deep, philosophical question that was left to be only answered by self actualisation.
"What?"
Yamato screwed up his face, spoiling the sense of drama that she had created by leaving her words hanging. Hikari made sure to hold Yamato's eyes with a wise stare as she left the room to bring the fresh supply of wine to her fellow guests. Yamato stared after her as she left, gaping with unformed words and a disturbed twist to his face. He'd never received a look like that from her before. It wasn't accusing, but she was certainly suggesting something. She wanted him to connect the dots, but, as much as he tried, Yamato just came up with a nonsensical mess. He turned to Takeru who still stood silently at his side.
Takeru, feeling like he needed to do something to avoid the conversation being so intense, began to scrape the plates from dinner. It occupied him enough to begin to speak without thinking too much of Yamato's tense, irritated stance. With his arms still crossed Yamato stepped away from the counter and cocked his hip to passively wait for an explanation. Takeru gave it to him hesitantly.
"What Hikari wants to say is that...she thinks that you could help him. You two were best friends before anything else and you know him better than anyone. Even she admits that."
Yamato uncrossed his arms with a look of almost fear. He stepped forward again to capture Takeru's attention, distraught and unsure in the way that he spoke. Irritation had left him.
"Takeru, I'm sorry. I'm no counsellor or...or anything to him anymore. Even when we were close as anything I couldn't help him. He crushed me completely. I won't be dragged into that again."
Takeru dropped the empty plates into the sink and turned on the tap.
"We're not asking you to fix him. We just want you to be there for him again."
"I can't. I'm not staying."
Takeru growled and turned to his brother, frustrated that his words were unable to convey what he meant, and more so that Yamato was protesting before fully understanding the situation.
"I'm not asking you to stay. I mean 'be there' like support him. You're the one closest to understanding what he's doing. I might have dabbled in drugs and partying and such, but you've been under it all and come back up, so you know what to do, right? You know how to handle an overdose or calm him down when he gets hysterical. Hikari and I, we just tend to panic."
Yamato had begun to pace, feeling this restless tightening in his chest. The desire to run. God, he felt so guilty for it. He pictured his old self, brushing hair from Taichi's face while he threw up, changing cum stained sheets while he was blacked out on the floor, feeding him water like a baby while he had a drug induced panic attack. His muscles tensed all over. They seemed to want to compress him and crush his body until he was nothing but a ball of compacted bone and tissue. He raked a hand through his hair shakily.
"Shit, Takeru. This is a lot to ask of me. I can't take care of him again. He didn't listen to me last time. He didn't accept my help, why would you think he would this time around? Why would this time be any different?"
"Well...you're different for a start."
Another cryptic answer. But it shocked him no less. Takeru's eyes were piercing. He turned off the tap at the perfect time to leave the dishes to soak. He left the kitchen much in the way that Hikari did, commanding Yamato to think about what had been said before replying. Yamato didn't follow him out of the kitchen. He stared at the murky water of the sink and pressed his hands against his hips.
"God, why don't people talk straight, anymore?"
He muttered to himself and felt that he'd been left alone for a reason.
"Is he okay?"
Hikari asked Takeru once he'd sat back in his seat next to her. He released a worried sigh and a showed her a smile before resting a hand on her knee carefully, squeezing lightly to release some of the pent up tension that was left after having such a serious conversation.
"Give him a minute."
It took Yamato more than just a minute. While he kept to himself in the kitchen, mulling and moping, the conversation started up again with the rest of the group. Mimi and Sora eventually forgave each other without exchanging words and Mimi shuffled back from the end of the sofa to engage with everyone.
Conversation wasn't strained. They were used to a lack of Taichi's or Yamato's presence and with the wine now flowing, lubricating mouths and throats, words were more freely shared. Despite the raised volume of his friends conversing, Yamato wasn't at all distracted. He stood still in the kitchen with the top half of his body draped over the counter. He stood there long enough for his legs to ache and every so often he would readjust his centre of gravity to offer them temporary relief.
The food he'd just eaten seemed to mix and bounce in his stomach the more he thought about things. It felt like there were two people living within him, both shouting and tugging at his insides to try and influence his decision. One was strong hearted and noble, commanding that he do what is supposedly right by staying and helping Taichi. He had played a hand in his old lover's downfall, after all. The other person was meek and childlike. All that he asked is to not be hurt again. He wanted freedom. He wanted to run.
What he thought about most was Takeru's final statement.
He was different? How? He knew that he felt different. He knew that he looked it as well. But he couldn't really say that he had completely changed. He was still a bit of a martyr; still forgave too easily in most cases and worked too hard. He still wrote with his right hand, went to bed and woke up later than he should and craved sweet buns on a regular basis. But, these were all inconsequential. What were the changes? What made him so different that Takeru thought that he could conjure miracles as he was now?
Unconsciously he found himself spreading his hands out on the counter and his eyes dropped to trace them. They looked bigger than he remembered them being. His fingers were thicker too, and rougher. They looked like strong hands, belonging to a man that had used them to their highest ability.
He found himself standing back from the counter, still engrossed in observing each crease, dip and arch of his hands. He turned them over, clenching and unclenching them, while his face seemed to slacken from its confused, tight expression.
Are these the differences that Takeru noticed? Did he look stronger? Did he look wiser? Were these changes in his appearance applicable to himself as a person? Was he truly stronger or wiser, or did his aging body deceive his poor brother?
His final decision didn't come in the form of an epiphany. It was more like an act of surrender. He came to realise that he'd already retreated to as far as he could, but the war still waited for him. Taichi wouldn't stop existing if he were to ignore him and run away again.
Takeru heard the light footsteps coming down the corridor first and when he fell quiet the others did as well and all turned to look to the doorway.
Like he would do when he confronted his teachers in high school, Yamato grinded his foot into the wooden floor and brushed his nose casually, looking out the window while he spoke in a cool tone.
"Alright."
Hikari hid here miniscule smile in her wine glass. Takeru slyly arched his brow and placed his glass on the table in a smooth motion.
"What do you mean 'alright'?"
Yamato shrugged, to busy looking at the floor to see Takeru's face break into a smug grin.
"I mean alright, alright! I'll...do what I can. But I'm not going to make any promises."
"About what? Do what?"
Mimi jumped in. Yamato had forgotten that the others were present. And now that he looked around, he saw that they were all apparently interested. Mimi was the most obvious, flicking her wide eyes back and forth between himself and Takeru. Jyou and Koushirou, who seemed to have somewhat stepped into the background, were more conservative in their curiosity. Both tried to disguise their intrigue by looking around the room, but it was the effort they put into avoiding all eye contact that gave them away. Yamato sighed and ruffled his hair, feeling bashful now that attention was placed on him.
Hikari eventually spoke up since she was the one that mainly decided what was acceptable to do or say where Taichi was concerned. It wouldn't do any harm for the other's to know what they had planned.
"We're going to see Taichi."
The celebration was Mimi's silent, smug smile that she hid by pretending to clean the edges of her lipstick with her thumb. Sora took a gulp from her wineglass and avoided Hikari's eyes while Jyou and Koushirou shared a look of uncertainty. No one was entirely sure how to react. Yamato stood at the edge of the room awkwardly, not knowing what he should do now that he'd made his declaration. Hikari picked up the bottle of wine on the table and gestured it towards him.
"Drink?"
He broke into a smile and nodded quietly. He took his seat casually while Hikari generously filled his glass.
Yamato looked up at the apartment building they approached. Its muted grey colour and crumbling cubic form spoke of desolation and hard luck. No window fulfilled its function with the amount of dirt that caked them and the only life he saw was one lone, rugged male despondently sucking a cigarette from his balcony. He hoped that perhaps they'd drive by it, but when Takeru flicked on his indicator from the driver's seat Yamato slumped back in concern.
A single figure lingered in front of the entrance, following the approaching car with anticipating eyes. He bent his body to look through the windows when the car slowed, and bounded forward with a large grin once it had come to a final halt.
"Yamato!"
Yamato backed away from the window slightly when a face was pressed up against it. For his own safety he decided to exit the car from the opposite side, risking being hit by a car over being tackled by the energetic young man.
His hair had been cut shorter and was tamer, hardly ridding him of any of the boyish charm that he held in his face. He still jumped around like an excited child when Yamato approached. As soon as his foot hit the pavement the man threw himself at him, nearly pushing him back into the road.
"I can't believe you're back!"
Yamato found himself laughing and smiling as well, despite the constriction of his organs while arms where tightly wrapped around him. No one else had really greeted him with such enthusiasm. He was getting fed up with uncertainties and so Daisuke's bold approach was a refreshing change.
"Hey, Daisuke."
Daisuke excitedly stepped back and beamed his bright eyes at Yamato's face.
"They said you were back and I didn't believe them. Why wasn't I invited to the party? I wanted to hang out with him, too!"
Takeru exited the car and stepped between Yamato and Daisuke to take control of the situation.
"You have time to fawn over him later. Right now we need to get serious."
"Right."
And then, Daisuke became someone completely different. He was mature and his suddenly hard expression was sobering for everyone. Takeru and Hikari and approached the building determinedly and Daisuke followed, leaving Yamato the only one questioning the sudden jump in the atmosphere. He followed behind everyone in a sort of daze towards the main entrance. Hikari produced a key and upon opening the door passed it to Takeru to hold it open for everyone. He gave Yamato a slightly guilty look when he walked past him.
It looked worse from the inside. The elevator was broken and on the walls of the stairwell Yamato thought that the marks and scratches might have been made from bullets. A dog was howling several flights up. Upon reaching the desired floor Hikari pulled the sleeve of her jumper over her hand so that she could pull open the door that lead to the corridor and Daisuke also nudged it with his elbow instead of directly touching it.
The walls were so thin that with every door they passed their ears invaded the apartment unintentionally. Finally Hikari stopped outside of a particular door and Daisuke stepped up beside her as though a beast were to emerge that he needed to protect her from. She knocked firmly and pressed her face right up to the wood to speak through it.
"Taichi! Open up! It's us!"
There was no reply and Yamato thought that maybe they'd been wrong to think that Taichi was at home. But, Takeru didn't relent. He knocked harder on the door several more times before raising his voice in a threatening tone.
"Taichi! You know Daisuke will break the door down again!"
Signs of life finally began to reveal themselves. Through the door they could hear a low voice hissing curses and bare feet slapping against wood. As the noise approached them they heard miscellaneous crashes and bumps from a clumsy body until the latch was lifted. Yamato tensed and edged behind Daisuke and Hikari who stood in front of him. His stomach had dropped so low he worried that he might shit it out when he finally saw Taichi. The door swung open faster then he'd expected and the top of a messy head of dark hair greeted him along with a stained shirt and obviously irritated growl. Yamato was shot with cold and it froze him. All stopped. His mind plummeted into silence, his heart shrivelled, lungs deflated with one long, echoing breathe that was so thick he could almost see it dribble from his lips. He squeezed his hands into fists when he caught his fingers shivering.
The brown hair was flicked back and a face was revealed. Tanned, angular, defined; it was most of what he remembered it to be. But that was all. It lacked the rest, and what it was lacking had not been substituted for. There was no luminescent quality to his eyes, no colour in his cheeks other than a slight tinge of grey and even his lips were cracked and dry, lacking moisture. Yamato didn't feel the flutter in his chest like he used to when he looked at Taichi. Taichi was lifeless to the point that Yamato couldn't even pity him. Instead he found himself feeling slightly angry that Taichi didn't care enough to look after the body that Yamato had loved. He'd abused it, neglected it, tainted it, and it all showed on his face with every wrinkle, dry patch, healing wound and slightly sunken cheek. Yamato had left that body in Taichi's care, and he had failed to look after it. He didn't release his hands from their clenched position. He tightened his fist if anything. He'd mostly calmed down otherwise, now mentally preparing himself.
At first Taichi was only awake enough to notice Hikari standing before him. His vision swayed as he lolled his tired head the hung from his neck. Eventually he lifted his eyes and held her firmly in a cold, uncaring stare that frightened Yamato who hadn't seen such a look before.
"What the fuck is your prob-..."
It was Taichi's eyes that had betrayed him first. They had caught something that his mind had yet to. It was a colour that he was unfamiliar with. Wait...no...not unfamiliar. He knew it. He saw it more than anything else when he dreamed. But he was awake. Why was it still here?
It was magnetising. He rolled his head to see what glowed. What would ever shine such gold in his life? What would dare try to imitate such light?
He was not hit with cold when he saw Yamato. He was hit with fire.
"Yagami! Ishida! Break it up! Stop this, right now! Yagami!"
The young teacher was hardly experienced enough to understand how to deal with this problem. For the moment she mainly tried her best to hold the two young boys apart while the surrounding children seemed to be cheering them on. She freed one of her hands from holding the wrist of one of the boys so that she could order the surrounding children back to their classrooms, but that only left the infant rebel with the opportunity to fit in a final blow.
"Yagami Taichi, don't you dare!"
She screeched and grabbed a hold of the boy's collar before he could land his fist into the face of the other child that struggled to escape her. Several other teachers had now rushed onto the playground to deal with the other children. One of the male teachers that saw her struggling also ran to take Yamato from her grip to better restrain him. An onlooker might have mistaken the children for foreigners or animals by the way they completely ignored the commands from their authorities and still desperately tried to claw for each other.
The usually mild mannered homeroom teacher gripped the forearms of a young Taichi and shook him to get his attention.
"Now, what is all of this about? What is serious enough to resort to violence over?"
Taichi didn't turn to look at her. His attempts to throw her off had hardly weakened and he snarled his reply in the face of Yamato.
"He called me stupid!"
"Because he called me a weirdo!"
"I didn't call you a weirdo! I said that you act like a weirdo!"
"Same thing, dumbass!"
Yamato growled and managed to free an arm from the male teacher holding him back, and with it he scratched at the image of Taichi's face before him. His arm that was still restrained was almost ripped from its socket due to his absolute determination to exact revenge. Taichi similarly barked like a wild dog and kicked out his legs when he found his hands pulled behind his back and effectively useless.
The male teacher pulled Yamato back by his wrist and grabbed the boy's collar, raising him slightly onto his toes so that he wasn't able to kick without losing his balance.
"Ishida, you should never call someone that! Especially one of your friends. Apologise, right now."
"No! And he's not my friend!"
Yamato turned his anger onto his superior, digging his nails into the man's hand in his efforts to escape. The teacher did not relent. Instead he managed to grab the top of Yamato's ear and twisted it, exacting a painful yet harmless punishment. Yamato momentarily bent over in submission with hopes to lessen the pain.
"Apologise, Ishida, or else, you will spend lunchtime with me for the next month."
Yamato fell still, growling at the floor while the fingers on his ear still held tightly and twisted.
"Why do I have to apologise? He deserved it! He's the one that started it anyway."
"Alright, then, both of you apologise to each other."
Taichi squeaked incredulously, pausing in his struggles to stare his teacher dead in the face.
"What?! But he-"
"Yagami."
His tone was final. Taichi frowned at his feet. The woman holding his arms squeezed them in warning when a minute passed and he still said nothing. Finally he looked up at the pale boy in front of him with a stiff jaw. His eyes spoke of hunger for blood.
"Sorry..."
He bit out, staring through Yamato's eyes and into his skull. His tightened expression slackened soon after and his lips split into a grin with his final words.
"...Ishi-chan[1]."
"Shut your fucking mouth!"
Yamato's reaction was so sudden that he was easily able to rip himself out of his restraints while his teacher had foolishly believed that the fight was over. Yamato launched himself forward, leaping, with no part of him touching the floor, towards the smug and, to him, hideous face of his classmate, Yagami Taichi. Taichi was expecting the assault just as much as anyone else. The tackle ripped him out of his teacher's arms and sent him slamming into the gravel. He could not block Yamato's fist in time and received its full power on his still bruising cheek.
"Ishida! Stop it!"
Her voice sounded truly horrified at the sight of the young boys fighting as though they truly wanted to kill each other. She had never known that young children were capable of such violence since this was the first time in her career that she'd ever had to physically restrain fighting students.
"That's it! We're calling your parents!"
Taichi was the only one of them that seemed to flinch, but upon Yamato's next kick he forgot to care about the matter. It took two more teachers to rip them apart and pull them by their collars, like wild dogs, to the Principal's office, where phone calls where already being made.
"Son of a BITCH!"
Taichi used the doorjamb as a catapult to throw himself at Yamato. Without warning he grabbed him by the throat in a vengeful claw and slammed his head into the wall behind him. Hikari only had enough time to step out of his way and cry out in horror.
For someone who wasn't expecting to be rammed into a wall and strangled, Yamato recovered quickly enough and was able to block Taichi's first brutal punch with his forearm. All the while, the hand around his neck was still persistent...and tight - frighteningly tight. Vaguely he heard Hikari trying to stop him as best she could without getting hurt.
"Stop it! Taichi, get off of him! Stop!"
Her efforts were disappointingly wasted. She could only watch as Yamato fought off her brother's vicious assault. Daisuke wanted to jump in. He counted every opportunity that he had to intervene and he let each one of them pass with only a small flinch. It was now that he saw the fire in his senpai that he thought had died. Taichi's eyes may have been bright with anger, but at least there was life in him to have that anger. It was intimidating to see his raw strength resurface.
Takeru, however, was not as mesmerised by Taichi and more fearful for his brother's life when he saw how red his face was and how white the skin of his neck became beneath Taichi's fingers. He didn't mean to push Hikari aside as he did, but his instincts took over to fight for his brother.
He lunged forward after his hands and gripped at Taichi's shirt to pull him off. He'd only managed to pull the clothing off his shoulders before Taichi swiped at him with an elbow and threw him back
Yamato eventually stabbed Taichi in the stomach with the heel of his shoe and freed his windpipe. He barely savoured the reactivation of his lungs and instead took the chance to gain the upper hand. While Taichi was bent over, trying to catch his breath, Yamato hooked his arm around his neck and held Taichi in a chokehold without the intention of trying to strangle him. All he wanted to do was hold Taichi still long enough for him to calm down.
There was a short while when everyone believed that it might be over. Taichi had punched all he could at Yamato's back and stomach and still hadn't found freedom. His negligence towards his physical health had left him as only a fraction of the glorious form he had once been. The most he could do was throw his weight into Yamato when his footing was firm enough and push him into the wall. The grunts and sharp breaths reassured him that he was causing him pain at least, even though he wasn't released.
Yamato's lungs were crushed as Taichi repeatedly threw him into the wall. Takeru had decided to stand back now, thinking that his brother probably had better control of the situation. Neither of them reacted quickly enough when Taichi rammed a lucky elbow into Yamato's gut. Painfully winded Yamato's hold around Taichi loosened, giving him the opportunity to wrestle free and aim a rock breaking punch into Yamato's face with a primal roar.
Yamato didn't bounce back as quickly after that final blow. He bent over in pain, struggling to breathe and Taichi took a step away to watch him writhe. Takeru rushed forward the moment he noticed the small amount of blood pool in the corner of Yamato's lips. He led his brother to lean against the wall opposite the open door that Taichi had now hurried through while Hikari made her final plea.
"Taichi, please!"
He turned to her with a dark expression; one that he had never shown to her before. All objections fell silent when he spoke.
"Get him out of here before I break his fucking face."
Yamato was the only one that didn't jump when the door was slammed shut with rattling force. His ears were still ringing so he didn't pick up on the entire force of it. Before turning around to him he noticed Hikari wipe under her eyes with her thumb and sniff.
"You okay?"
She approached him to take a look at his bleeding lip and gently moved Takeru aside who was still fussing over him. Yamato didn't allow her to get to close. He gently and slowly lead her by her shoulder to stand next to Takeru and did the same to lead Daisuke away from to door. He approached it as though it was the true foe. His breathing was still shaky, but his voice carried strongly to the man on the other side.
"I'm not leaving, Taichi. Come out here and face me."
That voice. It made Taichi's insides curl up and quiver. The air around him suddenly became a lot thinner. He barely managed a breath for his aggressive retort.
"Fu-...Fuck off and die!"
He'd been leaning against the door to start but jumped away from it when Yamato spoke. The wood was so thin he felt the voice as though it had been whispered into his ear. He no longer felt his bruises. All blood had flooded straight to his heart and filled it so that it became a raised lump on his chest. He felt those next three loud knocks on the door with his whole body.
"Say that to my face, you fucking coward!"
As soon as he'd spoken Yamato edged away from the door, spreading his arms so that the others backed away as well. They all heard the shuffled feet and the indignant mutter.
"I'm the coward?"
The door was once again thrown open and slammed into the opposite wall, the handle almost embedding itself into the drywall. Taichi stood there, eyes wide and glowing, in silence. He took a tense pause, breathing heavily through his teeth while stabbing Yamato in the eyes with his own intense stare. His voice doubled in volume and his nails on the door began to penetrate the thick layers of paint.
"I'm the coward?! You're the only coward here! How dare you try and make me out to be someone like you, you fucking hypocrite!"
Yamato didn't respond in absolutely any way, though the others behind him looked fearful for their lives. Yamato stood calm. He lowered his arms from their protective position and took a steady, confident step in.
"Are you going to let us in or not?"
Taichi scoffed and hissed in rage and confusion. He didn't know how to respond. Weren't they just arguing a second ago? What just happened? Why did he open the door again? Why didn't he just ignore them like he always did?
With his realisation he unfurled his hands and his breathing slowed. Yamato's serene and focused eyes were hypnotic and Taichi found his own eyes drooping submissively. He stepped to the side, opening the view to his apartment for everyone.
Taichi sat, still sniffling, in his chair with the page only half filled with his indecipherable hand written essay on the event that had occurred. He'd at least gotten further than Yamato, sat on the opposite side of the room, who hadn't even bothered to start. Even with the teacher gone Taichi didn't care to start fighting again. The Principal had already warned him of what lay in store for him if he did, and it was not a punishment that he could take lightly.
After a while he dropped his pencil and raised a hand to his arm. A sharp pain still throbbed there from a circular mark where a young's boy's teeth had been embedded. He rubbed it soothingly, smearing saliva on it to take the sting away. But, when the pain persisted he turned around in his seat to glare accusingly at Yamato who was using his pencil to pick the dirt from under his nails. It took at least two minutes of his cold stare to get Yamato to acknowledge him, and even then the boy did nothing but shrug his shoulders and look back to his hands. Taichi eventually found the nerve to raise his voice in the silent classroom.
"You didn't have to bite me."
Yamato raised his brow and crossed his arms, dropping his pencil with a loud clutter onto the desk.
"You pulled my hair."
"That's because you kicked!"
"You slapped me first!"
Taichi spun back around in his chair with a huff once he realised that arguing was pointless. When he thought back on the fight he realised that although he could justify every blow so could Yamato. He barely seemed to recall the start of the fight. The only distinctive thing was the end of it, when they were dragged to the classroom to sit in silence until their parents arrived. He didn't actually get to speak to his mum, but from what he could barely hear while the principle was on the phone she didn't sound happy.
Out of the corner of his eye he spared another look to Yamato, wondering if he was thinking something similar. He'd never met the other boy's parents; never even seen them, actually.
Yamato was slumped back in his chair, rubbing the back of his hand over a particularly red part of his cheek. Taichi felt the slightest bit of guilt run through him. He'd always been told that it was never right to hit someone. He'd never had to before. Yamato was the first person he'd ever felt the desire to strike.
"I'm sorry for calling you a weirdo."
He mumbled.
"Huh?"
"I said that I'm sorry for calling you a weirdo!
"Whatever."
That's what annoyed him; Yamato's aloofness. Whenever Taichi had tried to talk to him in the past the boy would always ignore him or answer with a single word without even looking at him. No one had ever been so...dismissive of him. His open and friendly nature had always warmed the same reaction from whoever he engaged. Taichi stiffened his lip, trying hard not to respond aggressively.
"I was being serious this time. I didn't know you'd be upset."
Yamato scoffed and rolled his head to look out the window.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I thought you already knew that you were a bit weird."
Yamato lurched up in his seat with a scowl, finally turning to face his classmate.
"I'm not weird!"
"Yeah, you are. You don't talk to anybody."
"That's because I don't like anybody."
"Well, you have to like someone, or else you won't have any friends."
Yamato flopped back and Taichi's dislike of him gave way to general intrigue. He knew little of the boy who he'd seen nearly every day at school for the past few months.
"I have friends."
Yamato lowly spit from between his teeth.
"Who?"
"They're back home at my old school. If I didn't have to move to this crappy school then everything would have been fine!"
Taichi tilted his head and ignored the aggravation that had begun to reveal itself in Yamato's sharp tone.
"Why'd you have to move?"
"None of your business!"
"I'm just trying to be your friend."
"I don't want to be your friend."
"Why not?"
Yamato didn't even bother to reply. He huffed and scowled and tutted, trying to dissuade Taichi from engaging him. He'd never really liked him, even though they'd hardly shared a conversation. He'd seen enough from his seat on the outside to find enough reasons to hate him. Taichi always seemed to leap around the playground from person to person as though he had a God given gifted that he needed to share with the world. Other kids fought amongst each other over who he might prefer. Teachers patted him on the head and chuckled when he joked around in class. And after a school day of being the class icon and teacher's darling, he had a beautiful mother who picked him up every day and showered him in kisses and treats when she greeted him. Yamato would always watch from the bus stop as he drove by and make faces. He'd even thrown his pencil case at the car once, only to duck behind the bus stop shelter when the car came to a halt.
He could never voice his reasons if someone were to ask him why he didn't like Taichi. It was just a feeling that he got whenever he watched the boy. Taichi seemed to give him the ability to see that while everyone else lived in colour he was surrounded by only grey. He was the grimy, frozen puddle to the side of a field of wild flowers. It made his toes curl, his hands tingle and tighten. He'd never hated anyone so much. He didn't know what to do with even half of his rage. Ignoring Taichi seemed to be the only thing stopping him from beating him to a bloody paste on a regular basis. He stayed in silence, glaring up at Taichi, testing his resilience by trying his hardest to break him with the intensity of his eyes.
Taichi was sick of not getting an answer. Yamato had always evaded him by walking away or ignoring him. Well, they were forbidden to leave the classroom, there was no one else to talk to and there was nothing left to distract either of them, so Taichi deemed this to be his perfect and only chance to tame the wild animal that had been nipping at his ankles for the past few months. He spared a glance to the door to check if the teacher outside was looking in before standing up and marching up to Yamato's desk as a soldier with orders. He puffed out his chest, thinking of his father and the man that he wanted to be. In a voice that was louder than necessary in such close proximity he made his most confident attempt to reach out to Yamato.
"I'm Yagami Taichi, and you're not a weirdo. I'm sorry for hitting you."
At first Yamato stared up at Taichi, suspecting that he was using his typical, manipulative techniques to try and befriend him. He did however appreciate the apology. It felt good for Taichi to accept the blame for his actions. Yamato judged Taichi's expression first and decided that if he was using a poker face then it was a damn good one. He couldn't detect any traces of lies, insincerity or sarcasm. So, he nodded his head and kept eye contact.
"I'm sorry, too, I guess."
He told himself repeatedly that he didn't mean it. That he'd only said it out of obligation.
"So, what's your name?"
Yamato forced out an abrupt laugh, sneering while he looked up at Taichi.
"You know my name."
Taichi didn't reply. He stood with his hip pressed against Yamato's desk and a serious face, waiting for the response he wanted. Yamato was stubborn. Their eyes remained locked for the whole of the long silence that succeeded Taichi's question. The only reason Yamato finally gave in was that Taichi's proximity was beginning to make him uncomfortable.
"Ishida Yamato."
He muttered, and Taichi's hard expression completely shattered to leave his usual, bright smile.
"Nice to meet you, Yamato. I hope we can get along in the future."
He bowed clumsily with his arms pressed tightly to his sides. Yamato's cheeks puffed with air as he tried to cage his laughter behind his lips.
"You sound like a businessman."
"That's how my dad taught me to introduce myself."
"Didn't he tell you that you shouldn't address people so informally?"
Taichi's plump, childish cheeks darkened to a ripe apple red. He looked to the floor and nudged the desk leg with his toe as he bashfully replied.
"Well, you can call me Taichi if you want."
"Maybe I don't want to call you Taichi."
"Then what do you want to call me?"
Yamato playfully scratched his chin and smirked. He considered 'baka-chan[2]' at first. After a short time he gracefully slipped his hand away from his face and spoke in a smooth, sly voice that was beyond his age.
"Tai."
A shiver ran right through Taichi that followed a flush of red. No one except his family acted so familiar with him. Despite having so many friends he'd never even been given a nickname. He'd never been close enough to anyone else. And yet Yamato, a boy who he'd never had a true conversation with, had given him a nickname. Suddenly, in the span of only a few minutes, he had become the closest friend that Taichi had ever had.
Taichi ruffled the hair that hung over his eyes, hoping to obscure Yamato's view of his face while he recovered from his embarrassment. When he looked up his expression was equally as mischievous as Yamato's and his smile was just as sly.
"Fine. Then, I'll just call you Yama."
Yamato blushed in a similar fashion, but had the sensible idea to look away when it happened. Before Taichi could mock him he heard the click of heels following the line of the corridor and rushed back to his seat in time for the door to open.
"Yagami, your mother's arrived."
He hid his exertion from running the length of the room and stood up from his desk casually. As he walked to the door he kept his eyes low so that he could spare a glance to Yamato without being noticed. The other boy wasn't even pretending to write his essay even while the teacher was present. Taichi was in slight awe at his audacity, but was further surprised when Yamato called out to him once he reached the door.
"Good luck, Tansoku-Tai-chan[3]."
He chuckled scathingly, keeping his eyes on the window. Before his teacher got a good grip on his shoulder Taichi spun around and pointed to Yamato's smiling face.
"Shut up, Yanki-Yama-chan![4]"
"Yagami Taichi, out! Now! March!"
He was pulled backwards down the corridor by his collar, all the while hearing Yamato's truly joyful laugh bouncing off the walls of the classroom.
[1] 'chan' is a suffix used with names that you'd normally use with a young girl or someone you're really familiar with.
[2] idiot
[3] short legs
[4] a term used to describe rebel teens who bleach their hair. Yamato doesn't actually bleach his hair. Taichi's just making a comparison to insult him.
It's rough and short, but I'm just so frustrated! I've been trying to get this chapter finished for months but I haven't been able to get it right. The story's all there. It's just the writing I keep messing up. So, I just thought that, for now, I'll publish it as it is. I can always go back to it later, but right now I'm desperate to get this fic going!
On top of that I've started a new fic that's been distracting me. It's one of those stories that I'm able to really connect to because it's from a character that has a mind of its own. It's definitely OC but I have big plans for it in the future if you guys fancy checking it out. 'Apfel'
I'm sorry for everyone who's waited and I'm so grateful for all of you who are sticking with this fic. I'm really going to try my best to make it as good as it is in my head, so get read for some fucking dramaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
love you all
bye
Bed. Of. Nails. And. Sandpaper
x