Money and Martyrdom
"So, we'll pick you up tomorrow?"
Yamato tapped the toe of his shoe against the floor, securing it onto his foot, and looked over his shoulder at Takeru.
"Yeah, okay. Call me when you're close and I'll wait in the lobby."
"Alright. Get home safe."
"Thanks. See you tomorrow."
He hesitated for a second, but quickly marched to the door with Takeru following to hold the door open for him. He skipped the steps and landed heavily at the bottom, barely visible to Takeru in the dark street at so late at night.
"Bye."
Takeru waved into the darkness and was able to recognise the silhouette of his brother when he waved back. He struggled a second time to allow him to leave, especially on foot and alone. There was no one to drive him back now that they'd opened the third bottle of wine. Even the designated drivers resorted to taking cabs home. Eventually Takeru found the strength in him to close the front door and return to the living room. Hikari had cleared away most of the plates and now herself and Sora felt the responsibility to finish off the last of the wine instead of attempting to recork it for another night. Takeru slid onto the sofa next to his partner and poured out the last few drops into his already red stained glass. Hikari tucked herself into his shoulder and rested her light head against him.
"Is he getting the train back?"
She tiredly mumbled. He nodded and rested his head on top of hers, brushing his stubbled chin against her silk hair.
"Yeah. I think he just wanted some time alone."
"Do you think I was a bit hard on him? I didn't mean to be so demanding."
"No, it's okay. It was kind of necessary, I think. He can handle it."
"I just feel...relieved, I suppose. And worried at the same time."
On the separate chair across the room, Sora muttered into her glass before consuming the rest of her wine in one gulp.
"This is a bad idea."
Hikari sighed and nuzzled her face into Takeru's shirt.
"Just don't, Sora."
The sound of Sora's glass being placed on the table revealed the unnecessary force she used. It clanked loudly and rattled before settling firmly on its base.
"I don't understand how you could be so calm about this?! Taichi isn't going to run into Yamato's arms and be miraculously cured. Five years of repression isn't just going to fizzle up and disappear."
"We know that. We just need somewhere to start. Now, can you just drop it?"
"I just can't accept this. I'm sorry. Taichi's just going to end up more hurt in my opinion."
Hikari, now much more alert, sat up and defensively chose to move away from Takeru. He sat back and didn't intervene, knowing that his input was hardly valid. Hikari was the only one who had the right to fight for her brother's sake. He only hoped that Sora might back down, otherwise she threatened to awaken an old pain. Hikari placed her glass next to Sora's on the centre table and sat upright. Her voice was as calm as she could attempt to make it.
"You think he's even in a position to be more hurt? Have you even seen it?"
Sora silently stared at her. Not with anger, but with firm confidence. Hikari, always soft and gentle, was now solid as iron in body and voice.
"Don't talk about what you don't know, Sora. You have no idea what's best for him. You weren't there."
"I wish I had been, sometimes."
She'd meant to say it to herself. Wine had blurred her perception of mind and mouth and she had spoken before realising. Instantly she wished she could take it back, but Hikari's reaction was far too quick.
"Don't even say that!"
Sora sat back in shock.
"I'm sorry."
Hikari abruptly stood up and collected the empty glasses from the table, only wanting an excuse to leave the room.
"We're going to see him tomorrow. I guess you'll have to wait to find out if you're right or not."
Takeru watched her wipe her arm across her face as she left to the kitchen. When he turned his gaze, Sora was collecting her purse from the floor and trying to stand despite the restrictions of her tight skirt. She looked to him, hoping that he might reassure her that she had spoken the truth. But, his face was blank. Suddenly, she felt as though Yamato had little to do with her argument.
"I'm sorry."
She shouldered her purse and spared an apologetic glance to Takeru before showing herself out. Hikari regretful emerged from the kitchen once she'd heard the front door quietly shut. Takeru remained in his seat wiping at his forehead tiredly. In guilt she silently retired for the night without waiting for him.
Taichi had changed his shirt by Hikari's request. When she'd asked him how long he'd been wearing it and he wasn't able to tell her she immediately ushered him into his bedroom and shut the door behind him with an order to 'clean up'. Now, he stood in front of the four of them who had made space within the refuse to sit on his sofa in a tight line. It was surreal for all of them. None of them had expected the reunion to pan out that way that it had. Even Taichi had surprised himself by reacting violently. In his dreams, where Yamato would visit him, he welcomed him home with an embrace and kiss in a warm, dark, secluded place. But as soon as he laid eyes on this creature that dared to wear the same eyes as the man that he loved, something had erupted from within him; a deeply rooted anger that had lay dormant while he had been unaware. He'd actually been glad that Hikari had asked him to change his shirt. Sitting on his bed, regulating his breathing, had been exactly what he needed to come as close to being prepared as he could be.
He didn't want to sit down. His legs were still shaking. He stood as far away from Yamato as possible while standing in front of him and observed him. Nothing about him was as he remembered it to be. His eyes were darker; his hair was more platinum than gold; his skin was a healthy peach instead of a ghostly white. He'd taken off his jacket when he'd made himself comfortable and now Taichi could see the lines of his muscles beneath his thin shirt. This...thing was not the delicate spirit that had held Taichi at night with spectral limbs. And that made Taichi angrier.
"Why are you here?"
He barked and crossed his arms. Yamato leant forward in his seat, annoyed that he was having to look up at Taichi who was making a very obvious attempt to seem threatening.
"Are you referring to Japan or specifically your apartment?"
He sighed sarcastically. Taichi didn't receive his question well. He narrowed his eyes further and his lips pulled into half a sneer by a string connected to his arched brow. Yamato waved off his own comment, pretending that he hadn't said it, and started again with a much more serious tone.
"A friend of mine died. I'm attending his funeral-"
"So you didn't even come back for us?! You really are a fucking coward, aren't you, Ishida?!"
Yamato didn't rise to Taichi's anger, though it really bit him. Even the impersonal referral hurt. But, he remained calm. He hadn't expected to be warmly welcomed, but that didn't make Taichi's coldness hurt any less. He hardened his eyes and held them with Taichi's.
"You can see it that way if you want. No point in trying to change your mind."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"Just because that was my initial reason that doesn't mean that it's the only one."
"Well, why even fucking bother?"
Taichi finally met his limit and turned away from Yamato, feeling his chest, swollen with air, press up against his crossed arms. Every little thing he did made Taichi hate him even more. The way he spoke and looked at him in that condescending way, as though speaking to a child, and the way he so casually sat on his sofa as though he hadn't been missing for the last five years. Even if Yamato were to throw himself on the floor and beg for forgiveness, at this point Taichi didn't even want to give it to him. Now that his mind was made up, he just had to end this meeting quickly. He turned around quickly with his arms uncrossed and his face void of any emotion. Hikari, Takeru and Daisuke spared confused and worried glances with each other as he approached them slowly, but Yamato was as calm as ever. He stared into Taichi's eyes right up until the moment where Taichi stood only half a foot in front of him, nearly brushing their knees together. Yamato refused to lean back in his seat, despite the uncomfortable angle that he had to tilt his head in order to make eye contact.
"What do you want from me?"
"To talk."
"About what?"
"You."
Taichi faked a laugh and even purposely threw his head to decorate it. Afterwards his face slipped right back to its previous cold expression.
"I'd much rather talk about you, actually."
Everyone in the room tensed immediately, expecting Taichi to spur Yamato into an argument, or worse, another fight. Even the way he had approached, with his eyes cemented to Yamato's unabashed expression, showed the sparks of barely contained aggression.
"Why did you leave?"
"I needed to."
"That's not a fucking reason!"
When his fingers rolled into his palm and the veins of his hands swelled above the surface Hikari stood up and reached up to put a hand on her brother's shoulder.
"Taichi, calm down."
"Keep out of this, Hikari!"
Immediately she withdrew her hand and took a step back. She didn't sit back down. Instead she chose to stay in a position where she could intervene instantly if the situation were to escalate. Before Taichi could ask any more questions Yamato spoke up, sounding as indifferent as he had tried to be since the start of the conversation.
"If you want an apology, you're not going to get it."
"And why not?"
"Because I don't regret it."
"You don't regret hurting us?! Abandoning us?! Leaving us all worried sick?! What is it exactly that you don't regret?"
"The way I left was wrong. I admit that. But leaving was the right thing to do."
"For who?!"
A tense silence followed where Taichi tried to catch his breath. Yamato bit his lip, trying to hold back any insults that pushed at his throat. Now was not a good time to get angry, but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his composure when Taichi was obviously forcing down on sensitive areas. He forced his next words out through his tense lips.
"I won't regret it."
"Then tell me what good came from it for anyone other than yourself?"
"I don't have to justify anything for you. If you don't believe me it's your own problem."
"Stop talking to me like you don't fucking know me!"
Yamato's mouth was snapped shut involuntarily. He had the words to reply, but not the will. Taichi as well was shocked by his own response. A heaviness fell over the room and none were really sure what they could say to lift it. Hikari stepped forward cautiously and slipped her hand into Taichi's now limp one.
"Taichi, your head's bruising. Come here."
Taichi's eyes remained locked with Yamato's as he was dragged out of the room towards the kitchen. When he'd finally turned the corner and was absent from sight Takeru and Daisuke released a relieved breath while Yamato looked down to his lap, trapped in thought.
"You okay? Does anything hurt on you?"
Yamato distractedly glanced at Takeru before shaking his head.
"Nah, not really. I've just got a bit of a headache, really."
Takeru moved his brother's body away from him and sat up to inspect him, combing his fingers through Yamato's hair in search of injuries.
"Nothing looks really bad. You've got some pretty dark bruises down your neck, though."
"Oh, those are old. I had a motorcycle accident a while ago."
Both Takeru and Daisuke piped up at the same time, though with very different tones to their voice.
"You had an accident?!"
"You have a motorcycle?!"
Daisuke coughed awkwardly when Takeru gave him a scolding look but Yamato laughed at the both of them. Their responses were so typical of them. It was refreshing to speak to people that he understood so well. He playfully brushed off Takeru's hands that searched him for more injuries.
"Yeah, a cabbie clipped me. No big deal. My guitar broke, though."
"Your old one?"
Takeru sadly replied, offering a sympathetic hand on his knee. He knew how important that guitar had been to Yamato. Yamato nodded with a regretful smile.
"Yeah. It's a shame. But, I guess she was getting pretty old anyway."
Takeru and Daisuke nodded, knowing that no more could really be said about the matter. Any more attempts at consoling him would most likely serve to only upset him further. Takeru fell back into the sofa and rubbed his face tiredly.
"This isn't going so well, is it?"
Yamato shrugged.
"Oh well. At least you got him to let us in. Normally he'd just slam the door and we'd have to break it down."
"Yeah, I'm pretty good at getting on people's nerves. Why do you think we fought so often?"
In the kitchen, Hikari dabbed a wad of cold, wet tissue onto a reddening patch on Taichi's forehead. It would have been better to use something frozen, but Taichi had no frozen foods in his apartment and she knew that before she'd even checked.
"I can't believe you did that. What were you thinking? How could you?"
Taichi shrugged his folded arms and batted her away.
"We've fought worse."
She threw the deteriorating glob into the bin and urged him into the counter with her hands on her hips.
"I thought you wanted to see him. Didn't you? You've been telling everyone how much you've missed for so long that we've gotten tired of hearing it."
"I-...you fucking-"
Her hand automatically swiped him across the head before he could finish.
"Don't swear at me!"
"Ow! Kari!"
He sulked and rubbed his head for a moment while thinking how to answer. He only swore because he hadn't been sure how to reply and needed something to fill in the spaces in his speech. She waited for him to answer, looking more like their mother than ever. She bit her lip like their mother would do and cocked her hips like her as well. He hoped after a while that she might save him having to answer by scolding him some more. But, all hopes were in vain. She stared him down patiently until he found only a few words to utter.
"He's not Yama."
"Then, who is he?"
"I don't know."
"He wants to fix things."
"I don't want them fixed."
"Then what do you want, Taichi?! Do you want to carry on moping and sulking? I brought him here so that you can get out of this funk and get on with your life. You're twenty eight!"
"And old enough to handle my own problems!"
"So, handle them."
Taichi rubbed his palm over the forming lump on his head with a growl.
"Jeez. I always knew you'd end up like mum."
Hikari broke her motherly scowl to show a small smile.
"It's a good thing I did. Someone needs to knock some sense into you."
A flick to his arm punctuated her point and he submitted with a shy smirk of his own. The final urges for disobedience settled in him and with a huff he turned to her with crossed arms.
"Fine. What do you want me to do?"
Hikari stifled a victorious smile and kept up with her act. She flicked her hair and kept to her self-assured expression. Now that he'd compared her to her mother she thought it safe to use her methods for reference. Keep eye contact; stay calm; stand back to make their difference in height less obvious.
"Be civil. Talk to him."
"I'll do it for you."
"I don't want you to do it for me. I want you to do it for yourself."
Even that quote came directly from her mother. Taichi remembered it all too well. It was both hilarious and infuriating to hear it coming from his little sister.
"Fine. For myself, then."
"Good, now go apologise to him."
"Is that for myself as well?"
"No. It's because you strangled him."
He laughed all the while she ushered him out of the room. He wiped the remaining water from his face with his forearm and prepared his firm expression for when he entered the living room. The quietly talking men on the sofa silenced completely once they noticed his presence. In the two seconds of not realising that Taichi had been there Yamato had been smiling. It was not one of those serene, almost vacant smiles that Taichi used to see so often in sleep or delirium. It was new. He'd never seen it before. It was lively, bright, sincere, yet, all the while...natural. It was so unnaturally natural to see it on Yamato who had always been so contained and indifferent. So overwhelmed with his fascination, he held it in his mind and stood in silence, staring at Yamato who now squirmed uncertainly in his seat under Taichi's stare. Hikari, entering behind him, purposely cleared her throat and nudged his back with her shoulder. The words burst from him as though he had been choking and Hikari cleared his pipes.
"I'm sorry for hurting you."
Yamato, confused by the apology, responded slowly after a pause.
"I forgive you. I'm sorry, too."
"It's fine. I think your chokehold cleared my sinuses a bit."
The joke was strained and unexpected and told without much humour to it. Even Taichi cringed in regret after blurting it. No one displayed any signs of amusement. The best he received was patronising smiles and obliging nods. Yamato, of all of them, was not sympathetic at all. In fact he saw a joke to be downright inappropriate while the situation was still so raw and fragile, and especially since it had only been a short while since he'd had the other's hands frighteningly wrapped around his neck. He wasn't upset; more left bewildered by Taichi's fickle emotions. It was an odd glimpse into what was left of Taichi's uplifting attitude. He lowered his head to disguise any upset that was displayed on his face.
Taichi no longer stood stiffly. The tiredness showed in his slumped posture
"I know this is a big deal and we need to talk about a lot of stuff, but right now I think I need some time alone to process all this."
Hikari regretfully agreed to it, knowing too well what time alone might entail for Taichi. They left without fight and Taichi was all too quick to close the door behind them without much of a goodbye. With them finally out of his sanctuary he slumped against the door and cupped his face in his hands.
Like an amateur portrait, they sat stiffly in parallel on the sofa only a few inches apart. One wouldn't think that a pair of teenagers were capable of sitting still for so long, yet they hadn't even spoken for quite some time. It had still been light outside when they first sat down together. Yamato wouldn't even attempt to speak. His jaw was clenched so tightly shut that he could feel the pressure up through his cheekbone and his eyes blankly pointed to the empty wall in front of him. That was what scared Taichi; the emptiness of his expression. Taichi was well acquainted with the aggressive side of Yamato's personality. He knew what to do to calm him when he was in a fit of rage or passively sulking. But, he'd never been a witness of this. Yamato had always been aloof and indifferent. It was part of the reason why people thought that he could only be admired from afar. So, to see him truly hurt doubled the weight of the guilt that sat on his shoulders.
He didn't dare to try and touch him. Yamato was never one to take comfort from human contact, but that wasn't the reason why Taichi kept his distance. He felt...undeserving.
"It didn't mean anything."
He croaked through his dry throat. Yamato jolted, surprised to hear him speak after so long a silence. The fists in his lap tightened without him realising. His words leapt from his mouth before he had time to catch them. He hadn't intended to speak at all until Taichi had fully explained himself.
"Well, how the hell am I supposed to know that? You can't just -..."
He broke off raggedly. Speaking had been a mistake. Now, everything that he wanted to say came rushing up all at once and blocked his throat. Small noises and squeaks, like the sounds of gagging, seemed to jump out from behind his trembling lips. Yamato eventually forced his mouth closed to capture them and pressed his chin against his chest with his eyes squeezed shut. He rarely experienced anything like this. So few people had the power to hurt him and he recalled once again why he never gave them this power. It felt like ever part of him was malfunctioning. He no longer had any control of his body. He could only remain trapped within it as it slowly shut down, one organ at a time.
"Yama?"
Yamato slowly shook his head.
"I knew this wouldn't work."
Taichi risked an inch to better hear Yamato. He'd hardly even whispered those words; only accompanied the movement of his lips with breath. The mirror between them was broken when Taichi turned his body to face his lover and leant in close to him. He spoke just as quietly.
"What?"
Without warning Taichi was forced to leap back when Yamato threw his head back and slammed his fists down onto the seat. The sound of his fists making contact with the wooden skeleton beneath the several layers of cotton and fabric made Taichi cringe.
"I knew this wouldn't fucking work! I hate this! I hate this feeling! Why the fuck would anyone do this to themselves?"
He was left heaving with laboured breaths after his outburst and his eyes clenched shut even tighter. Taichi sat shocked a foot away. He hardly recognised Yamato in this state. His voice didn't hold its usual steel confidence. It wavered and creaked.
"What are you talking about?"
"Monogamy. It's stupid."
Yamato dropped his head into his hands. Taichi could hear his hard exhales against his palms. He could only read Yamato by his body language now that he'd hidden his face. His shoulders were pulled up against his ears and shaking, warding off Taichi's hovering hand that wanted to land there. Taichi sighed and looked away, finding that he had more strength when he couldn't see Yamato.
"Don't go all dramatic and say bullshit like that. It's not monogamy that's stupid. It's me."
He received no response. Not even a sign that Yamato had heard him. He waited quietly to hear only the sound of Yamato's shaky breathing funnelled by his hands.
"I'm sorry, Yama."
While Taichi had his head lowered in shame Yamato jumped up and tried to escape the situation suddenly. Taichi only looked up in time to see Yamato's back once he'd turned towards the front door. He sprung to his feet just as fast and ruined Yamato's hopes for a dramatic exit by wrapping his fingers around his forearm and pulling him back. Yamato didn't stumble. Roots had sprouted from his shoes and now he could barely move. Taichi looked at his hand that tightly clenched Yamato's arm in awe. He had finally found it in him to touch Yamato, and he realised that neither of them had burst into flames. Yamato wasn't entirely rejecting Taichi's hand on him, so Taichi pressed that little bit further. Manoeuvring within the narrow space between the sofa and the centre table, he took a step forward and touched his chest to Yamato's shoulder.
"I'm sorry."
Nothing. There was no longer tension on his arm where Yamato was trying to pull away, but he wasn't making any other movements. Taichi felt his organs twist around each other in a painful knot. He loosened his grip on Yamato's arm, one finger at a time. Just as he was about to pull away a cold, pale hand landed over his own, holding it down to make sure he wouldn't let go. Taichi raised his head in hope. Slowly Yamato pivoted to face him and raised his head to meet his eyes.
His eyes were cold; firm; piercing even. His lips were drawn tightly across his face into a thin line. But, despite this, two glistening tracks curved around his cheeks. He faced Taichi with power and confidence that made him question whether or not he realised the tears continued to fall.
"You better mean that."
Taichi's shock faded and his loosely parted lips pursed. He shifted his hand beneath Yamato's to link their fingers together.
"I'm sorry."
He whispered for a final time and, without anything else needed to be said, Yamato turned to face him and their lips met with a sigh of satisfaction. Their joined hands were trapped between their chests now. It was a chaste, mournful kiss. Taichi savoured it desperately and brushed his thumb across Yamato's cheek, feeling the tears smear beneath his touch and mimic the texture of silk. Their lips were just as silent in parting as they were in joining. Yamato's shuddered breath and a watery sheen on his cheeks were now all that was left to show that he'd cried.
He'd finally gotten to sleep after squirming restlessly for hours. Serves him right for having beer before bed. That's the thing with beer. The first one's for the taste, the second's for the dry mouth after the first, and the third one leaves you pissing for the rest of the night. He'd stormed back and forth from the bathroom to his bed more times than were tolerable in the past few hours, and after a workout like that he'd finally depleted enough energy to rest. And soon after that he was inconveniently woken by his cell phone that rattled and wailed on the table by his head.
He didn't bother to turn on the light. Half awake, he groped in the dark with clumsy hands until he finally managed to drag his phone under the covers and to his ear.
"Mmmm'ello?"
He sighed with his eyes still closed and close to drifting back off to sleep.
"Yamato?"
"Yeah, speaking."
"It's Hikari. I'm sorry to bother you so late, but we have some trouble."
With a long, deep breath through his nose Yamato gathered all his will to sit up and pay attention. Resting his back against the pillows he rubbed his closed eyes in hopes to pry them open.
"Hmm? What's up?"
"I got a call from Taichi. I couldn't understand him, but I think he might be in trouble. He was very drunk from what I could tell."
Well, he was certainly awake now, despite not at all wanting to be. To make sure that there was no way of falling back asleep he swung his legs across the mattress, out from under the covers and off the side of the bed. He wriggled his toes into the cool carpet and sighed.
"Okay. What do you want me to do?"
"Well, you know Tokyo night life better than any of us, and you're the closest to most of the clubs. Do you know what club he might be in so we can find him and take him home?"
"I'm not sure. New places could have opened up; popularity changes."
"Well, you're the only lead we have. You at least have some suggestions, right?"
He took a deep breath and leant onto his knees, massaging his bottom lip with his finger while he thought. Hikari had to wait in silence over the phone for at least a minute while he desperately scraped his memory for numbers and names while sleep was still pressing down on him.
"It's Thursday, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then there're two that I'd suggest. I'll give you the address for one and I'll check the other. If I find him there I'll call you and bring him home. The same goes for you guys, okay?"
"Yes. Thank you so much for doing this."
He paused in getting up from the bed, shaking his head sadly.
"Don't thank me."
While he racked his brain for the addresses he threw on the first items that he found in his clothes pile. He kept having to pause and shake his head when the room darkened from his eyes drooping closed. He recited the address to Hikari over the phone, choosing to send her to the one that was closest to her while he was having to journey to central Tokyo. After hanging up he called a cab, slyly suggesting that he would pay more if it were to arrive sooner than they suggested it would. It swerved up to the curb outside of the hotel only ten minutes later.
He noticed while he pulled up next to the club that it hadn't changed much. The flickering light on the sign had been fixed, and the shape of the windows on the door was different, but nothing else other than that. There was no line outside. Everyone that wanted to be inside was already in there, and Yamato was definitely not one of those people.
The cab stopped abruptly and the driver stuck back his hand to receive his payment without vocalising his request. Yamato folded the bills and passed them to him in the same rude manner as the driver had demanded them and exited the cab, slamming the door behind him. He looked up at the rotten building, wondering how drunk he must have been to attend the club of his own volition when he was younger.
The first thing he did was approach the bouncer at the door. He no longer held any sort of resentment towards bouncers or barmen now that he understood their job. He remembered times when he would argue violently and lash out at them whenever they tried to kick him out or refuse him entry to certain places, but one part time summer job changed all that. Looking from the sober side of the situation he'd developed the empathy that he'd so easily lost after he'd had a few drinks. The burly guy standing outside of this particular club for example was obviously fed up with oblivious drunkards by the way he slouched and sighed. But he still gave a respectful nod to Yamato who obediently followed the requirements of entry. He flashed his identification without being asked and handed over his entrance fee in exact change instead of making the easier choice of handing a wad of notes and expecting the other to do all the maths for him. They even engaged in silent conversation when they met eyes.
'Rough night, huh?'
'You have no idea.'
And so, he entered the club with little hassle, dreading what was in store from what he could hear and smell. Fumes from spilt spirits circulated the air, mingling with the sharp scent of the few bodies that were sweating more than usual from the heat and strenuous activities. His shoes struggled to be lifted from the when the alcohol that lined the surface clung to his soles.
The place was packed to the walls. He had about two seconds to recognise a face when the strobe lights flashed on quickly before flashing off once again. There was no point asking the bartender or the bouncers. There was no way they would memorise one out of a hundred people. So, he thought to make his way to the balcony to try and scope the dance floor from above. He checked his pockets first, making sure that his wallet was buried deep enough to ensure that it wouldn't be easily taken before heading into the crowd to reach the stairs. Half naked men and women rubbed their moist torsos against his shoulders and back as he passed them, leaving lingering touches once he was out of reach. He strategically avoided walking through the centre of groups, knowing that it would provoke either a fight or a drunken attempt to seduce him. He kept to the edges of the crowd instead where the people weren't as tightly packed together and he could easily slide between them. He had to keep his hands above his waist otherwise he risked trapping them in awkward places.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, holding tightly to the handrail to avoid slipping on the wet stairs or being knocked down by the lines of women in heels that rushed by him in the other direction. Once at the top he leant over the railings and scanned the crowd with his eyes in a snaking pattern, searching for a particular hairstyle or listening out for a familiar voice. The distracting environment forced him to repeat the process several times at first for him to have a successful look, and when he didn't recognise anyone the first time around he looked over the crowd a couple more times to double check. Taichi wasn't there. Next he looked at the balcony that bordered the room and found his search to be fruitless once again.
He was panting now. The air was hot and wet and while most people were wearing only scraps of clothes he was still wrapped in his thick jacket and long sleeved shirt. He worried that if he took it off it might get dragged away in the current and he would have something else that he needed to chase after. So, he kept his thoughts on snow and ice to try and trick his body into thinking he was cool while he jumped the stairs to check the next place Taichi could be. It took him a few moments for him to remember where the rest rooms where, and on the way there he felt something similar to a groping hand being cupped around his buttocks that he forced himself to ignore.
His face crinkled in disgust as soon as he opened the door. His senses, previously overwhelmed with the sickly sweet smell of alcohol and perfume, were pummelled with the foul stench of vomit and waste. That was something that definitely hadn't changed in this club. Whether it was poorly maintained or the customers had dysfunctional bowels, the bathrooms were always disgusting. Now he remembered why he'd usually piss on the wall outside whenever he came here. He suffered through the initial shock for a moment before pressing forward onto the grey tiled floors.
Three men stood at the urinal. None he recognised. Two of the stalls were closed. At first he thought the he could wait for them to come out by pretending to make a phone call, but he found that he needn't bother when he heard a voice and laugh that he recognised over the ear numbing bass that pounded through the walls.
"Taichi?"
He called out at first. One of the men that had finished his business passed by and offered a questioning look before heading out the door. Yamato ignored him and listened harder. He didn't want to risk breaking the door down to find a guy doing a shit.
"Taichi, I know you're in here."
An outburst of laughter was shushed by another voice in the same stall. He found which one it was quickly and subtly leant back to see several pairs of feet from under the door, thankfully none in direct line to the toilet. He pounded his fist on the door several times and received no response other than quiet laughter. Regretting already what he would need to do he scoped the lock of the door and found it to be a safety lock; one easily broken from the outside. All he had to do was use one of his keys to twist the bolt. So, he did, and pulled the door open to find three men and Taichi crowded in the one stall and centred around several lines of white powder that they'd arranged on the toilet lid.
"What the fuck?!"
That bewildered voice came from the man kneeling over the seat with a note already rolled up in his hand. Yamato ignored him and instead grabbed Taichi's collar and forcefully dragged him out of the stall.
"Who the hell arre you? Gittoff me!"
Taichi dazedly struggled and pushed Yamato off him. He only had enough balance to lean back against the sink once he was free from his support. Yamato put his hands on Taichi's shoulders to inspect him and forced eye contact.
"It's me; Yamato. I'm taking you home."
Taichi's twitching eyes widened and a frightened look overtook his face.
"Y-Yama?"
Yamato shook his head in disappointment. Taichi was a mess. His shirt had been half ripped off of him and even his sweat reeked of the sharp stench of spirits. He didn't bother to make any more of an explanation and instead manoeuvred himself behind Taichi to force him out the door towards the main room. He kept his hands on his shoulders, feeling like that was the most comfortable place they could be while he tried to keep Taichi on track to the door. He even considered a sort of punishment to use Taichi as something of a shield from the crowd. However, halfway through the room, Taichi seemed to suddenly realise what was going on and he started to struggle, though it could barely be called that. As though Yamato's hands were flies he tried to swat them off of his shoulders and batted at the people around him whenever they touched him. It wasn't any trouble for Yamato, but the people around him pointed fingers in outrage whenever Taichi hit them. Before they were able to reach the door a bouncer had waded his way through the crowd and pulled them to the side.
"What's going on here?"
"I'm being abducted!"
Taichi interjected. Before the bouncer could take him seriously he laughed hysterically, causing him to turn his attention to Yamato for perhaps a more sober answer. After a frustrated sigh through his teeth Yamato attempted to shout his reply over the music.
"He's drunk! I'm trying to take him home! Could you help me get him out the door?"
The bouncer leant in closer with his head turned to better hear him and afterwards he signalled an 'okay' and motioned for them to follow him. Yamato got a better hold on Taichi, fisting the collar of his shirt, and changed his technique to drag Taichi behind him. Taichi barely resisted this time, most probably too tired and disorientated. The bouncer led them through a more diluted area of people to reach the much closer emergency exit. In the pitch back of the club during the build up to a drop in the music the bouncer opened the door, revealing a portal of heavenly light to freedom. Knowing that his thanks wouldn't be heard over the music Yamato didn't bother to speak. He simply reached into his pocket to find a couple of loose notes and handed them to bouncer with a nod as he passed. As soon as he'd pulled Taichi out the door it was closed with a loud crash behind them with no way back in; an issue that he felt little guilt in ignoring.
Looking back at the closed door he became aware of the familiarity of it. It hadn't always been an emergency exit. The alleyway they now stood in used to be a smoking area. He recognised some of the half torn posters that lined the crumbly brick wall. He could even form the rest of the images that he now only saw pieces of. He would've taken more time to observe his changed surroundings if not for Taichi leaning heavily on him and drunkenly panting into his shoulder.
Suddenly reminding himself, Yamato fished his phone from his coat pocket and selected the recent addition to his list of contacts. Hikari picked up within moments.
"Did you find him?"
"Yeah. I've got him with me now and we're on our way back to his apartment. My hotel doesn't allow uninvited guests, I'm afraid."
"I'm sorry. I can meet you at his apartment if you want and give you a ride home."
"No, don't bother. I'll just crash on his sofa or something. That way I can look after him I guess."
"Okay, call me when you're at his apartment so I know that you got there okay."
"Yeah. I'll talk to you later."
With that he gave another tug to Taichi's shirt to stop him from straying and started to drag him to the station. It would've probably been easier to get a cab, but so early in the morning the air was becoming piercingly cold and he didn't think that a half naked Taichi would appreciate standing around outside to wait for a ride. If they power walked they could probably catch the last train. When Taichi started to stumble Yamato took his arm and circled it around his neck while wrapping his own arms around Taichi's waist to support him while he walked. It brought memories of when they had walked in a similar fashion in the past down the same route. Although, usually Yamato would've been the one that could hardly walk. His tolerance had always been exceptional, but his estimations of his limit had always been inaccurate.
The stairs into the station were the worst obstacle that they came to. Despite how many times it happened, Taichi continued to over step every other stair and miss a crushed nose only by wrapping his arm that much tighter around Yamato's neck, nearly taking him down with him. The clock that hung at the entrance read that it had only just turned midnight and Yamato berated himself once he realised that he hadn't checked the time before walking to the station. They hadn't missed the last train, but it would have been more reassuring to know that beforehand.
Yamato paid for both of their tickets, deciding once he saw the congestion leading up to the platform that he would rather not waste time trying maul Taichi's clothes off him in search for his rail card. As they lined up to pass through the turnstile Taichi's head slowly began to droop until Yamato supported its full weight on his shoulder. His slight lean to accommodate it encouraged Taichi to press himself even closer until most of his body was draped over Yamato. When it came to the next set of stairs leading to the platform Yamato was practically carrying Taichi up them, spitefully ignoring whenever the man tripped or bumped into someone. The muttering didn't start until they were stood on the platform, pressed even closer together by the swarm of people that surrounded them.
"You're fucking lucky you have a sister as great as Hikari. If you'd called me up in the middle of the night I would've left you there to your own trouble. You scared the shit out of her. It's a fucking miracle she even cares enough to get sca-"
"Where'd you go?"
It was quiet and weak, but he'd heard that soft, sad voice nonetheless.
"What? What do you mean?"
He tried to turn his head to look Taichi in the eye but the other man, coiled around him like a snake, was hiding his face in Yamato's neck. Without words, he tightened his arms, crushing Yamato against him. His arms were welded iron, locking Yamato in a firm and suffocating grip. He noted the lone office working edge away when he noticed their predicament. They were attracting attention. Most people within a radius of a couple of meters were awkwardly adjusting bags, glancing at watches and pretending to read advertising posters while secretly monitoring the strange embracing couple.
"Taichi, you're hurting me."
Yamato subtly warned, putting a reassuring smile on for the onlookers who may have been concerned about the abnormal hue to his blood filled face. He patted the weakened man on the back, pretending that he wasn't cringing within the arms that encased him. He was hotter than he was in the club and experiencing nausea worse than he'd had in a long time. There were too many people far too close; too many bodies radiating heat; not enough space to breathe. Taichi was the main cause of it all but he didn't relent. He held tighter and streams of hot, sweet breath poured from his lips and trickled down Yamato's neck and beneath his shirt and jacket.
"Where'd you go?"
He pleaded a little louder and tried to step closer where there was no space left, making Yamato stumble away from him. Avoiding the questioning eyes, Yamato squirmed within Taichi's arms, trying to gently pry him off. There were so many eyes and whispers surrounding them; they were just as suffocating.
"I'm right here, Taichi, okay? So, let go."
There was little sign of surrender. The more Taichi tried to press them together the more he was pushing Yamato away. Every step forward was rewarded with a step backwards. Yamato noticed a man in a security vest eyeing them from the other end of the platform and panicked. He'd only been asked to take Taichi home, not comfort him and nurse him in his delirious state. He'd coddled him enough. He roughly wriggled an arm free so that Taichi's looped around his waist instead of his neck. Yamato Placed his hand on Taichi's shoulder when claustrophobia got the best of him. There was so little space to breathe and so much heat and noise.
"I said let go!"
It was only a small push; barely one with the strength to actually move a body. Annoyance turned to anger to guilt to fear to horror. Taichi stumbled over his own feet in the direction Yamato had pushed him; towards the tracks. Onlookers stepped away to avoid being hit, offering Taichi a clear path to intercept the oncoming train. Yamato had never thought that he'd be one to act quickly when it came to emergencies. He mainly tended to be the one to freeze in shock and not move until all was over. However, as soon as he saw Taichi teetering over the edge of the platform, the train's lights flashing over the side of his face, he leapt forward enough to grab onto the fluttering remains of Taichi's shirt. He pulled hard, using his whole body to drag Taichi back to safety.
A hole formed in the herd where two men lay sprawled on the platform floor. One, half conscious, collapsed on top of the other who lay wide eyed and overwhelmed with adrenalin. The screeching of the train coming to a halt was dampened by the piercing ringing in his ears as he lay there in shock. Taichi's chest pressed against his own swelled and deflated slowly and peacefully. Taichi's arms slowly wrapped around his neck once again and Yamato did nothing to shake them off. His own damaged hands were pressed into the floor where half of the skin on them had been scraped off. The train doors opened and the crowd filtered in casually. It wasn't until the platform had completely emptied that Yamato picked them both up and rushed through the closing doors onto the train.
More dust and flakes of brick felt to the floor as he was forced back into the wall. He could make up an array of creative stories about the origins of the scratches on his back, but he and Taichi would know that the crumbling wall was the true culprit and not the passionate, feminine hands he would mention to those that asked him the next day when he changed for school sports. His cigarette that he held in that hand that was draped over Taichi's shoulder, was half precariously held together ash. When Taichi harshly rutted against him the warm clump fell to the floor unnoticed. The taste that mixed between their lips of cigarettes and spirits wuld have disgusted them under more sober circumstances.
Ignoring their bashful audience, Taichi skated his hands across Yamato's naked, slick torso and approvingly fed his moans and mumbles into Yamato's mouth. When the bouncer approached them they hardly thought to break apart until he grabbed Taichi's collar and forced their lips to break contact.
"Either do that at home or break it up. Smoking yard closes in five minutes."
Yamato drunkenly remained collapsed against the wall and stared right through the man that stood between him and his giggling lover. With an arrogant smirk he took a drag from his dying cigarette and fired a round of smoke rings into the bouncer's face. The man remained stoic all the while Yamato flirtingly circled him and retrieved Taichi from his hold. Together they climbed over the rope barriers that outlined the small smoking area and walked off into the night chortling.
Who's got two thumbs an got mugged of everything they had?...this guuuuyyy! Serves me right for getting a bit cocky, really, carrying all my valuables with me. No more phone, ipod, laptop, ID, and a really nice leather bag. Some dick hole just jumped out of a car and aimed a screwdriver at my stomach. As much as I think back and regret not kicking him in the balls and making a run for it, being a wuss was probably a smarter move. Thank God I had my back up drive. The only problem is that I hadn't updated it in a while, which explains why everything is late. I had to rewrite most of this along with a couple of other fics I've been working on. I was also planning on entering a literary competition but my hard work has been lost and I don't think I could write something as good a second time. I hope that dick enjoys reading all of my horror and smut fiction! There's gay porn and gore galore on that thing LOL!
Anyway, I'm not looking for any pity or whatever. I've got a new laptop now and reported everything, so I'm not doomed. I just wanted to explain why this chapter is late and most likely not up to scratch. Writing something from memory isn't fun (Especially when it was close to greatness the first time round) and I've just been feeling too angry at the world to care. Seriously, my neighbourhood used to be so nice. Now I can't have a five minute walk from the station to my house without my life being threatened. I have enough angst in me right now to fuel a couple more chapters at least.
Bah blah blah, in conclusion, I hope you're all having/had a good summer. Thank you for your patience. I hope your lives aren't as shit as mine right now and that you enjoy this steaming pile of whatever the hell I've just thrown at you :)
It'll all get better soon.
Bed. Of. Nails. And. Sandpaper
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