Money and Martyrdom
What woke Taichi up this particular morning was not the typical pressure against his full bladder from lying on his stomach, nor the rancid aftertaste of spirits and vomit. It was a warm smell that invaded his sleep, turning his dreamless rest into a vision of a feast. When he finally returned to consciousness he was baffled to find that he could still smell it. Salty miso, tamagoyaki, grilled fish; foods that he hadn't had the skill to cook himself and so hadn't eaten since the last time he had stayed with his parents. The aroma lifted his head from the pillow and pulled him to a shaky stand. He followed it blindly, eyes still drooping with sleep and dizzily bumping into all objects that obstructed his path to the kitchen. When he reached the living room a voice speaking over the clatter of pots and plates stopped him.
"On the table."
He obeyed thoughtlessly and looked to the small two person dining table to his left. Next to a single empty plate was a tall, clear glass of cold water and two chalky white pills. It wasn't until he'd put them on his tongue that he finally noticed his nausea that he'd been too distracted to think about. He chased the painkillers with several long gulps of water and took the half full glass with him as he finished his journey to the kitchen. He mumbled his thanks while scratching the stubble under his chin and when he was answered with 'you're welcome' he recognised the voice. His suspicions were confirmed once he reached the door to the kitchen. Yamato stood in front of the stove busily arranging the cooked food into plates and bowls, all the while wearing one of Taichi's old shirts that hung low on his left shoulder. Besides being a little bit too broad, the shirt pretty much fitted him and, from what he could see, Taichi understood why. Yamato's exposed arms that so gracefully echoed the motion of his busy hands where lined with lean muscle that trailed beneath his sleeve and onto his sharp shoulders. Following the outlines of Yamato's torso he noticed the defined contours of his strong chest and back, leaving the shirt to sag slightly at the waist where there was evidence of the narrowness of his frame. Six years ago the same shirt would have drowned him.
Taichi was struck dumb while staring. He had very little memory of the night before and the reasons he conjured as for why Yamato was in his apartment, cooking him breakfast, worsened his nausea. Yamato turned around, offering a derisive snort to Taichi's half nudity before pushing past him to place two plates full of food on the table. All the while he spoke with a tired sigh.
"You got very drunk last night, took some coke at a club, phoned your sister and scared her sick, then she phoned me and I picked you up and dragged you back here where you threw up on me and passed out on the living room floor. I had to carry you to bed and borrowed one of your shirts to go food shopping this morning. Now, take that stupid look off your face."
Taichi rubbed at his cheeks, unsure of what kind of expression he was making but attempting to get rid of it anyway.
"Sorry."
He sulked and sat down at the table in front of an empty plate while Yamato went back to the kitchen to collect the final components of his breakfast.
"Good. You were stupid."
Not having his apology accepted up front made Taichi feel less guilty about the matter. He crossed his arms on the table, all the while trying his best not to ogle the delicious food lest it undermine his pompous scowl.
"Well, you didn't have to get involved."
Yamato, standing opposite him with the final plate of food, dropped it from a dangerous height onto the table and didn't care to fix the fish that had half flopped over the plate's edge. He glared at Taichi harshly, not at all in the right mindset to put up with his bullshit. He'd stayed up for most of the night trying to get the smell of vomit out of his clothes and clean the living room enough to sleep on the rock solid couch. His neck hurt, his eyes were stinging and he'd spent a lot of money buying the ingredients for a breakfast that he was no longer hungry for.
He rested his hands on the table and heard it creak when he lowered his weight onto them. His voice was low and scratchy when he spoke.
"I did it mostly for the sake of your sister. If you're not grateful, then I don't care."
"Grateful?! It's my life, I can do what I fucking like!"
"If you feel that way then the least you could do is cut ties with everyone that cares about you! That way they don't have to play a part in you screwing yourself over!"
"You'd know all about cutting ties, wouldn't you?"
Yamato barely flinched at the comment. The argument was pointless and probably fuelled mostly by Taichi's hangover and come down from the drugs. He still had the chopsticks in his hand, initially intending to set them properly, but now fancied throwing them across the table.
"Just eat your fucking breakfast."
He growled. Taichi intercepted the scattered chopsticks before they fell off the table and gathered them into a single hand. Yamato, at the same time, dropped himself heavily onto the opposite chair as he picked a cigarette out of his pocket.
"I don't like people smoking in here."
Taichi snidely remarked while Yamato waved the small flame of his lighter across the end of his cigarette.
"And I don't care."
He muttered in reply before taking the first draw. He'd treated himself to a pack while he'd been shopping that morning. He found them to be an essential ingredient to his breakfast now that he'd started up the habit again. He kicked his legs in an aggravated fashion under the table while Taichi suspiciously eyed the food, hesitating to start. Suddenly feeling rather embarrassed, Yamato looked up to the ceiling and spoke around the cigarette hanging from his lip.
"I haven't cooked this stuff in ages so I can't guarantee the taste."
Taichi didn't catch the subtle insecurity, but he started to pick at the served food anyway. As much as he hated to present himself as being at all complacent, his stomach was jumping with anticipation at the delicious smell. He quietly voiced his thanks for the meal before digging into his first ambitiously large mouthful. It was bliss. Months of microwave meals and crudely cooked hamburger had starved him of quality food. His sense of taste had been reawakened. He didn't dare show his appreciation on his face, though his inner glutton desperately cried out for the next glorious bite.
"It's good."
He mumbled and calmly lifted a second mouthful of food to his dripping wet lips. Yamato hid his small twitch that was the start of a grateful smile by taking another casual inhale of smoke. The sound of Taichi chewing and knocking his chopsticks against the sides of his bowl resounded in the apartment while they sat in a tense silence. As much as Taichi disliked Yamato's company he disliked the tension between them enough to urge him to attempt conversation.
"So...did you sleep here?"
"Yeah. You need a new couch. Those springs probably gave me bruises."
Yamato emphasised this by dramatically reaching out his arms to stretch his sore back.
"Luckily your sister's bringing over a spare futon when she comes over."
"Huh?"
Taichi sprayed his half chewed mouthful of rice across the table when he spoke. Brushing a stray grain off of his arm, Yamato smugly smiled at his confusion.
"I'm going to be staying here for a while."
"Fuck you."
"It's all been settled. As soon as she comes over I'm off to check out of my hotel."
"And why wasn't I told any of this?!"
"Well, I offered you the phone to talk to her but sadly you were too unconscious to notice. So we took your silence as a sign of agreement."
"Bastard."
Taichi hissed, watching Yamato tap the ashes of his cigarette onto a spare plate that he'd decided to use as a temporary ashtray.
"It's your own fault. If you hadn't pulled that stunt yesterday I would have happily left you alone."
Just the memory of it made his headache resurface. Taichi had been the most intolerable drunk the night before and not at all what Yamato had known him to be. He'd been aggressive and rude to the passengers that came close to them on the train, kicked at garbage cans and cars on the walk back to the apartment and when Yamato had first offered him a glass of water he'd immediately smashed it against the wall, screaming things that offended Yamato too much to recall. He rubbed his forehead and stubbed out his cigarette onto the plate, suddenly finding it less appealing than it had been when he'd lit it.
"Hey. You okay?"
Yamato looked up to see Taichi watching him while he swallowed the remains of food in his mouth.
"Yeah. Fine."
"Have you eaten yet? You look kind of sick."
Not wanting to look any longer at Taichi's inspecting gaze, Yamato took his ash covered plate to the kitchen to wash it.
"I'm not hungry."
He mumbled just loud enough to be heard over the rush of water that washed over the plate.
"You should still try and eat somethi-"
"I said I'm not hungry, so just leave it, okay?"
"Alright."
Taichi meekly replied and returned to his food. Knowing that Yamato didn't want any made him feel less guilt for devouring most of what had been put on the table. From his seat he could only see the edge of Yamato's form from his position at the sink. He studied the tense shoulders, the stiff way in which he placed the plate on the rack to dry, and noticed the similarities between what he saw and what he remembered. He used to be able to read Yamato's emotions with only a glance. Though his friend had always been a restrained and seemingly stoic person his body had always betrayed him. After longingly observing him for so long Taichi began to easily recognise his ticks and traits. When he was nervous he would bounce his foot and rub his hands. When he was sad he often kept his head low and sagged his shoulders. When he was stressed his body went rigid, much like the way he was now. It was a comfort in a way to find something that he recognised in this stranger.
"Go take a shower after you're done with that."
Yamato said with a tired grunt before piling up the used pans into the sink and starting to wash them. The clatter of pans as they bobbed in the water dampened any awkward silence while Taichi finished his meal. He offered no word of thanks after his last mouthful and stubbornly stomped his way to the bathroom to have a shower, grabbing some clothes from his room on the way.
His water bill over the past few years had continued to increase, all because a shower was the only sober pleasure he allowed himself. For the first ten minutes he stood still under the spray adjusting the temperature until it was absolutely perfect. He'd always thought to indulge in buying a bath, but the apartment was far too small for it. It took him a long time to get used to only showering after having the luxury of an electric bath in his last apartment, and so now he took especially long showers to try and recreate the experience. An occasional trip to the bath house was even too expensive for him to afford.
For another twenty minutes he stood under the spray, only occasionally moving to wash certain parts of his body. When he stepped out the small room was overwhelmed with steam, keeping him warm while he used only a small towel to dry himself. Now that the noise of the shower was silenced he could hear Yamato moving around in the living area. The sound was so low and careful that if the walls hadn't been so thin he wouldn't have heard it all and instead believe his apartment to be as empty as it usually was. The muted noise was simultaneously comforting to him as well as disturbing. He was so used to silence.
He stepped into his clean trousers, uncaring of the slightly looser fit and pulled his shirt on as well. Feeling the fit around his torso, he contemplated Yamato's size while he looked in the fogged mirror. He had always thought himself to be familiar with his body, but now he was unsure. The item didn't seem to fit him as well as he remembered. Similar to the shirt that Yamato wore, it sagged on his shoulders, only slightly less so. Around his chest he could pull at the fabric easily where it had a while ago been a tight fit that moulded over his pectorals. With a full stomach the shirt at least fitted around his belly, but in a few hours it would probably be loose again.
Taichi sighed and focused his attention on wiping the mist off of the mirror before he left the bathroom to greet the cold of the rest of his apartment. He unintentionally moved silently down the hall. Finally fastening his trousers he found himself at the threshold of his living room, watching Yamato fold the fresh laundry with his phone tucked against his ear; a typical picture of domesticity.
"Yeah...no, it's fine...uh, the next train's at half past I think...oh, has he been waiting long?...no, that's great. Makes things easier on me. It's just that-...you sure? I just don't want to leave him alone for too long... okay, I'll leave you the key somewhere...Well I wouldn't want him locking us out. I'll leave it in the post box, okay?...Alright, I'll see you when I get back. Bye."
Dropping a crisply folded bed sheet onto the pile of clean clothes Yamato lifted the phone from his shoulder and hung up. With his back turned he had no idea that Taichi was still watching him, so he addressed him loudly, expecting him to still be in the bathroom.
"Taichi, Hikari and Takeru are going to be here in ten minutes. Daisuke's downstairs so I'm going out to get my stuff. Be dressed by the time they're here."
"I am dressed."
Yamato quickly dropped the phone and jumped with a squeak
"OH my God! You scared the hell out of me."
He laughed awkwardly and picked up the phone from the floor, all the while Taichi stared at him humourlessly. Yamato quickly reverted back to his passive expression and smoothed his hand across the pile of clothes and sheets he'd laid on the table.
"Can I trust you by yourself for ten minutes?"
"What am I, a kid?"
"Well I did tuck you in last night."
Taichi huffed at the smug grin and stared at the floor while Yamato picked up his coat from the couch.
"You can trust me. Ten minutes doesn't give me time to do anything incriminating."
"Okay. I'll see you in a while. Be a nice host to everyone."
"Yeah, yeah."
Yamato tucked his coat over his arm, analysing Taichi's face with a serious expression. Finding the answer to whatever question he'd asked himself, he turned straight to the door and left the apartment, muttering a goodbye as he closed the door behind him. Taichi waited while he heard Yamato lingering outside the door. Judging by what he'd heard from the conversation he knew what Yamato was up to. Through the thin walls he could hear the clattering shutter of the flap to his mailbox and the click of his spare key when it hit the bottom. Yamato must have found it in the kitchen drawer while he was looking for cooking equipment. He waited for the sound of Yamato's footsteps to soften as he made his way down the hall, and once he stopped hearing them at all he cautiously peered out the front door. The stiff door of the letter box was left ajar, as he'd expected it to be. With his own key he unlocked the access flap at the bottom and reached in to place his hand on top of the key that sat on the bottom. All he needed to do was slide his hand out and the key would be dragged to him. Then, he could lock the door again. He could keep out his unwanted guests, or at least postpone their invasion of his private space.
But, for indiscernible reasons, he left it there and pulled back his empty hand. Maybe he wanted to avoid being scolded by his sister, or Yamato even now that he'd apparently taken on the role of warden. At least he knew for certain that it wasn't because he wanted him to come back. Why would he? So far he'd been nothing but an arrogant, condescending arse that felt it his duty to parent him. But, there was still something there - something that lingered - that seemed to dull the resentment. Whether or not it was only the memory of what he used to be, there was something about Yamato that he wanted to cling to.
Four beer bottles were lined beneath the couch, catching the light from the television. Taichi and Yamato had bought the crate mainly for themselves, knowing that the others either didn't drink or didn't like beer. They'd helped themselves to a couple for now only to make the movie more entertaining. It was the girls' night to choose what to watch. While the other boys tolerated the sappy romance quietly Taichi had moaned and complained until Yamato had thrust an open bottle of beer into his hands with the order to 'shut up and drink'. Since then he'd happily sipped at his beer and slowly slumped onto Yamato's shoulder, staring at the screen blankly. He could feel the movement of Yamato chewing a mouthful of the sandwich he'd made himself to soak up the alcohol. It looked very appetising by the way he ate it. Taichi could have very easily made the short walk to the kitchen to make one for himself, but he didn't want a different sandwich. He wanted Yamato's.
"Hey."
Yamato looked down his shoulder at him, still absently chewing on his last bite.
"Give me a bit."
Yamato snorted and turned back to watch the movie.
"No. Get your own."
"Why? You won't even finish it."
"It's mine."
"Come on. Just a bite."
"Eat shit."
"Shush!"
Mimi turned around from her place on the floor to give the couple a warning stare. Like a scolded child Taichi squirmed in his seat with a huff and nudged Yamato's side. Yamato returned it with a theatrically large bite of his sandwich and a grin that exposed his half masticated mouthful. It wasn't well received. Shortly after the two were wrestling across the couch, nudging the drink almost out of Jyou's hand and kicking Sora's bowl of popcorn into the air.
"Oh my God! Guys, knock it off! You're messing up Jyou's house!"
"I just want a bite! Don't be stingy!"
"Suck it!"
Although Yamato was mostly immobilised, with Taichi's arms locked around his neck and his gaping mouth looming over his shoulder, he still had enough freedom to shovel what he could of his handful of food into his mouth. Taichi's face morphed into a comical expression of horror at seeing that there was only one bite left and that Yamato was hurriedly chewing the rest of it.
"Hey! No fair!"
"Make your own damn sandwich."
Came his reply, mostly muffled by his full mouth.
"But I want yours."
"Tough tits!"
Taichi reached over Yamato's shoulder with a free hand and surprised him when he snatched the final bite and popped it quickly into his mouth.
"You bastard!"
Yamato wriggled under Taichi's arm around his neck and attacked his face like a cat with a dangling toy.
"There was hardly any filling anyway! Don't hit me!"
"You don't steal food, you bastard!"
"Guys, shut up! I can't hear the movie."
"Fine! I'm taking your beer!"
Yamato reached down to the floor and grabbed the bottle at Taichi's feet.
"No! Give it back!"
"Take it from me, ass face!"
"Ass face?! You little shit!"
Yamato leapt from the couch, kicking away the scattered popcorn and dashing out of the room, Taichi close at his heels.
The laughing , shouting and stomping could be heard by the others as it travelled upstairs into Jyou's bedroom. The hanging light above them swayed and bounced as the two wrestled on the floor above. Jyou stared anxiously at the ceiling as though he were able to see through it and observe what Taichi and Yamato were doing.
"Jeez. They're going to break something, aren't they?"
He muttered. His statement was followed by a particularly large bang and a shout that they recognised had come from Yamato.
"My parents are going to kill me."
"Don't worry, Jyou. I'm sure they won't re-"
Another crash.
"Taichi, you big fat stupid head, get off!"
Sora carefully slid her can of soda onto the table.
"I'll just...go check on them."
The others nodded gratefully at her before distracting themselves with the movie. She manoeuvred her way around those that were sitting on the floor and followed the path that Taichi and Yamato had made upstairs. The noises had decreased in volume, but as she made her way up the stairs she could hear the shared conversation.
"Owowowow I can't feel my legs!"
"Serves you right! You don't steal other people's food!"
"Beer is more precious than food!"
She heard the rustling of clothes as she reached closer to the half closed door and a final bang of someone hitting the floor.
"Wah! Ow, my back!"
Sora wasn't really sure why she was so cautious in her approach. She treaded her socked feet softly on the wooden floor and crept behind the door, peeking slightly through the open crack. Taichi had straddled Yamato's hips on the bedroom floor with his hands planted beside Yamato's head. He was leaning in close to Yamato's face.
"You okay?"
Yamato squirmed beneath the boy on top of him and pushed the chest that was pressed against his own.
"You don't get to ask that! You're the one that flipped me!"
"I'm sorry. I forgot you were still hurting."
Sora scrunched her brows at Yamato's reddening face, thinking back to what Taichi might be referring to. She couldn't recall Yamato being injured any time that week or complaining of any pain. This should have probably been the time that she made her presence known, but Sora carefully rearranged her position behind the door to ensure that they didn't notice she was there.
Yamato swatted at Taichi's head and kicked his legs in an attempt to throw him off.
"It-...I-...that's not the reason it hurt you...you pervert!"
"Don't be such a prude. Ow! What the fuck?"
"Serves you right."
The encounter seemed strangely contradictory. Yamato's slaps were frequent and fast while Taichi protected his face from the onslaught with his arms. But, all the while, the two of them were smiling and laughing. It wasn't strange for Sora to see them play fight since it happened on nearly a daily basis. This was different, though.
Yamato relented and dropped his arms, allowing Taichi to warily lower his hands from their protective position over his face. The two were still gently chuckling and observing the other. Serene smiles painted their faces and Sora felt a shiver in her gut. She was caught between desperately wanting to turn away and feeling that this was something that she had to see. The two had been acting differently around each other for a while and she'd had her suspicions. To have it verified first hand would put a stop to the hours staying awake in bed at night and the longing stares at school when she knew she could get away with it. Within a matter of seconds her nail biting habit returned full force.
The laughing stopped and silence fell over the two. Taichi slowly placed his hands on Yamato's chest and lowered his body onto the other boy's. Sora muffled a squeak with her hand when Taichi and Yamato's noses brushed. There was no hesitation when they fell together. The kiss came with a finesse that was acquired only with practice. It was no longer boyish antics. The tender hand on Yamato's cheek and the legs that curled around Taichi's hips attested to that. She could hear their muted, mumbled moans as though she were lying next to them. Yamato gripped the back of Taichi's shirt and dragged his body against him, causing a break in Taichi's breathing, and Sora pulled away from the door. She could still hear it; the low grunts, the rustle of clothes being pulled over skin and the slick sound of tongues and lips sliding over one another.
When she rushed down the stairs she was not at all concerned with whether or not she'd been heard. All she could focus on was the pain that spread in her chest every time her heart made a beat. She came close to slipping on the last step and clutched desperately to the wall to save herself. Even after she'd steadied herself she stayed pressed against the cold surface, smothering her cheek into the paint. Deep breaths managed to put a stop to her stinging eyes but her legs were still shaking. The fantasy that she had constructed around herself had now been shattered entirely and its shards had pierced her. A few more deep, sobbing breaths later and she felt composed enough to return to her friends. In the darkness of the living room they wouldn't notice the strain in her expression. The only hardship was to postpone her tears until the movie's tragic ending. She could use the opportunity for a quick release. The dam wouldn't break until she was home alone.
She switched off whatever was happening in her head and calmly brushed back her hair, stepping away from the wall. A quick swipe under her eyes, just in case, and she was ready. She sauntered purposely back into the living room and sat back in her place, sitting slightly further away from everyone. Mimi eyed her in the dark.
"Everything okay up there?"
"Yeah, they've calmed down now."
Mimi clicked her tongue and looked back at the screen.
"They're going to miss the best bits."
Sora picked up a piece of popcorn from the nearly empty bowl and popped it in her mouth. She immersed herself entirely in the movie, but when she heard a dull thump from the floor above she felt herself flinch. She tried everything she could to prevent herself imagining what might be going on in the room above. Then, when the heroine died in the arms of the hero, she allowed her tears to slip silently from her eyes.
"We're back!"
Daisuke announced energetically, hauling the spare bag he had taken so to share the load of Yamato's belongings. Yamato trailed behind him with hardly a fraction of the other's energy and closed the door behind him. The hotel hadn't been as gracious as he'd hoped in cancelling his accommodation and the cancelation fee had been a torturous hit to both his pride and his wallet.
Hikari was in the kitchen preparing tea and arranging some snacks that she had brought while Takeru and Taichi were sat on opposite sides of the couch watching television. Hikari peered around the door as soon as she'd heard the two enter and greeted them with a warm smile.
"Hi Yamato, we were just complimenting Taichi on how clean his home is looking now."
"Thank you. I think after tomorrow I could get this place looking habitable."
Yamato replied, shirking off his bag and coat and piling them in a heap at the door, intent on putting them away properly later.
"Do two you want some tea or coffee?"
"Coffee for me, please."
"I'll have one, too."
Hikari nodded and returned to the kitchen with their orders, adding more water to the already half boiled kettle. Daisuke dropped tiredly into the seat between Takeru and Taichi, oblivious of the tension between them, while Yamato sat cross legged on the floor.
Taichi eyed every person in the room individually. Daisuke casually sat back and yawned, Takeru leaned into the arm of the couch comfortably, Yamato rested his elbows on his knees while watching the television and Hikari, when she walked in with the drinks, smiled at each of them warmly while she handed over the steaming mugs. Everyone was so calm and comfortable and it confused Taichi more than anything. Everyone had already easily accepted Yamato back into their lives while he was in absolute turmoil. How could they possibly forgive him after he'd abandoned them for five years? They acted as though he'd never even left. Was he the only sane person in the room? He wanted to shake them all back to their senses and have them see his point of view; no more lectures about how he was unfairly holding a grudge.
Takeru offered his seat to Hikari and sat on the floor by her feet. She put up a fuss about it first but ended up accepting his generosity. She ruffled his head that he rested against her knees and leant forwards so he could see her loving smile. After Takeru nuzzled her hand her eye caught the corner of the room where a pile of bags and a rolled up futon rested.
"Where do you think we should put the futon? Is there enough space in Tai's room?"
Yamato tilted back his head to look at her.
"Probably not. I'll just keep it in here for now and put it away in the morning."
No one else caught the intense moment of eye contact. Yamato was trying to communicate to her without making it known by the others and she received it with a nod. She knew what he was thinking. Yamato didn't want to sleep in the same room as Taichi. His reasons were his own, and she accepted that, but she had a feeling she understood why. Taichi had been obsessing over Yamato for the past few years in good ways and bad. In the same breath he damned him to hell and promised a lifetime of heaven if he returned. She could only imagine what might go on between the two of them if they were left alone together in close proximity. If it came to a debate she would stand up for Yamato's sake. She had asked so much of him that it was only fair that he should be allowed to choose how close of a relationship he wanted with Taichi. As things were now it seemed highly unlikely that either of them would pursue anything romantic. The most dramatic outcome she might expect would be for one of them to kill, or at least maim, the other.
Takeru looked up at her curiously and she quelled any questions he had by stroking the hair from his face with a smile. The group watched television quietly together, sipping their warm drinks and speaking rarely to only make a comment on the programme. None of them had experienced a warm calm like this in a long time. It was the company that made the difference. If Taichi or Yamato weren't present then the others wouldn't be able to relax due to constant worry about them. To have them safe and together in the same room loosened a vice around everyone. Hikari, the most anxious of the lot, allowed her brain to switch off for the first time in a very long time. A warm smile graced her lips as she sank deeper into the plump cushions of the couch.
They spent the afternoon that way, only lightly touching on neutral conversation to avoid risking the comfortable atmosphere that they had managed to build. Taichi even chipped in occasionally, saying only a few words at a time, but any effort on his part was greatly appreciated by all. When darkness fell the guests gathered their coats so to search for their evening meal. Yamato had only barely bought enough groceries to last them a few days so the others didn't think it polite to impose, although Daisuke did put up a hefty fight that was quickly silenced by Hikari. While Taichi and Hikari said their goodbyes at the door Takeru subtly pulled Yamato aside a few steps away from them.
"Umm, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Hikari's got an exhibition at her gallery on Sunday. I was wondering if you could come round for dinner...maybe? I mean, I think we could do with a private talk, right?"
Takeru nervously fiddled with the buttons of his coat while looking up at his brother. His anxiety was infectious it seemed. Yamato soon mimicked his actions and played with the hair the brushed against his neck in a similar way.
"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. What time do you want me to be there? Do you want me to do the cooking or bring anything?"
"No, don't worry. I was just thinking about getting take-out."
Yamato could read a lot in his brother's vague expression; a gift that came with cherishing all he could in the short time they were allowed together. He saw embarrassment, shame, anxiety, all laced beneath a hopeful glimmer in his eye. Yamato saw that most of all and his own discomfort seemed to melt away. He rested a warm hand on the head of his younger brother.
"Call me during the week, okay? I'll definitely come."
Takeru raised his head from a nervous bow and nodded bashfully, a light blush following the plump arch of his cheeks. He could do little more than nod with a smile and relished the feel of the calloused fingers running through his hair.
"Takeru."
Yamato dropped his hand when Takeru turned his head to look at Hikari. The others had finished their goodbyes.
"You ready to go?"
He nodded and patted Yamato's shoulder as a final send off. Taichi skulked back to the couch before the door was even closed. Yamato didn't bother to scold him for rudeness and instead surveyed the apartment from the door to see what chores he had yet to do. The used mugs needed to be washed along with a couple of plates that had been used while he'd been out. The table could use a wash as well. There was still laundry hanging on the balcony that needed to be taken in and ironed and the previous load that he'd finished that morning had yet to be put away. It still sat on the table where he'd left it that morning. He'd mildly hoped that Taichi might take the initiative and put it away himself, but it seemed that the man probably needed to be directly ordered to do so if he ever hoped to get it done.
"Where do you keep the clean sheets?"
He asked while approaching the pile. Taichi lazily scratched his exposed stomach.
"The closet in my room."
"Alright. You grab the other half."
Yamato picked up the larger of the two piles and waited for Taichi to finally stand up and take the rest. The other man lead the way hoisting the pile in his arms into a more comfortable position. Once in the bedroom Taichi somehow managed to kick open the closet while his hands were full and practically threw the sheets in, leaving them hanging off of several shelves.
"Not like that, you idiot. It took time to iron those."
"Ugh, fine!"
Yamato carefully placed his share of the sheets and towels into the closet and afterwards helped Taichi refold the rest. With so much dirty laundry that had yet to be washed the closet was practically empty apart from the top shelf where a small blue, plastic box was nestled beneath a nest of unfolded clothes. Yamato had seen the same box in Taichi's home with his parents where he'd kept it under his bed. He released a nostalgic sigh and placed the final folded towel on the rest of the now neat pile.
"So...you still use it."
"Hmm? What?"
Taichi dazedly mumbled while he struggled to gain control of an especially large and unruly bed sheet. Yamato grabbed one of the sides of it to help him and nodded his head towards the box on the top shelf.
"The old lunchbox we used to use to hide our weed in."
After having it brought to his attention Taichi looked at it with a deep frown.
"A bit more than weed is in there now, though."
He muttered darkly, distractedly holding the corners of the bed sheet to allow Yamato to do the active part of effectively folding it.
"I guess...that's one of the problems that everyone wants me to talk to you about, right?"
Taichi shrugged and loosened his fingers for Yamato to easily remove the sheet from his grasp and place it carefully in the closet. The two then stood back together, staring at the offending receptacle and both contemplating its contents for vastly different reasons. Yamato nervously swallowed a glob of saliva.
"Can I have a look?"
Taichi stiffened considerably. He inhaled a bubble of air and stressfully rubbed his neck, not even daring to meet Yamato's questioning gaze.
"You can say no, if you want."
"But I'm supposed to say yes."
Yamato stayed silent, observing the physical evidence of Taichi's deep consideration of the issue. He scuffled his feet, making indecisive groans in the back of his throat. There was no pressure but it seemed like there was for Taichi. Yamato wasn't even entirely sure himself whether or not he wanted to know what was inside. He'd been the guilty one to start the collection in the first place, asking Taichi to keep it in his room where it was easier to hide. To think that such a small thing could have escalated so drastically in his absence made guilt bubble in his chest.
Taichi suddenly growled loudly in frustration and stormed over to his bed to lie down. He tucked his head under his pillow but his words were still easily distinguishable.
"Fine. You can open it."
Yamato nodded despite Tachi not being able to see the action. He cautiously approached the closet and was slow in reaching up to the box. The plastic was cruelly cold as his hands slipped over it and he pulled it down into his chest. Though the shelves of the closet were dusty the lid of the box was clean of specks and seemed to absorb the light that shined onto it. He carried it over to the bed, wanting to find a comfortable position to conduct his investigation. When he sat down Taichi uncurled his body and the pillow fell away from his face. He stared at Yamato's back as the lid was slowly pulled away. Yamato's upset sigh made him flinch and edge his body away from him.
"For fuck's sake, Taichi. Some of this stuff will get you put away. And the amount-"
Taichi sharply sat up on the bed and aggressively ruffled his hair with both hands.
"I know, I know. It looks bad. But it isn't all mine. Me and a few other guys all share around. I don't even know what half of that stuff is let alone use it."
Yamato found it far too difficult to keep a calm approach. Overreacting could never do any good but the sight of the many sealed plastic bags and drug paraphernalia filled him with overwhelming horror and...guilt. Yamato had been the one to serve Taichi his first drink and offer him his first toke of marijuana. To think that such petty decisions could have lead the man to horde this tragic collection turned memories into regrets. One small plastic bag trapped his gaze. It looked so small and harmless, but at the same time he realised the terrible danger it possessed. He'd been to the back rooms of the dodgy clubs and bars and seen firsthand the young and old slumped across chairs with rubber tourniquets wrapped around their arms.
"This...looks like heroin."
He mumbled and dropped the bag back into the box in shock. Taichi recoiled and wrapped an arm round the legs he had tucked into is chest.
"How would you know that?"
Ignoring the question Yamato placed the box on the bed next to him and shuffled sideways to easier look Taichi in the eye. His expression wasn't scolding like Taichi had expected. It was fearful, almost. His mouth was drawn into a tense, straight line and his eyes were slightly wide.
"Have you used it before?"
Taichi didn't immediately deny it and in the few silent seconds that passed Yamato had assumed the worst. If Taichi had used it then the situation became entirely out of his hand. He could help a troubled friend, but there was no way he was competent enough to save a drug addict. Thankfully Taichi decided to look up at him and shake his head.
"No...I haven't used it. I bought it ages ago."
Yamato gave a solemn nod and closed the lid of the box.
"There's enough here to kill you."
"Yeah...I know."
Taichi stared at him cryptically, communicating something in his gaze that Yamato could not decipher. Though Taichi already looked to be quite miserable with his pale, sunken cheeks and darkened eyes, in this moment he seemed to appear even more so. He coiled further into himself, away from Yamato, and slowly lowered his head. There was no more that Yamato could say. He couldn't tell Taichi that everything was okay because likely knew himself that it definitely wasn't. The resentment he still felt for his old lover after being abandoned remained like a brick wall between them, preventing Yamato from being able to comfort him at all. Perhaps the best thing to do would be to separate for a while.
"I'm going to go get dinner started."
Yamato spoke quietly and stood from the bed. He put the box back in its place on the shelf and calmly left the room, not expecting Taichi to follow.
Cooking was a great distraction. Of course he was still exhausted from an active day and would have preferred some takeout, but he considerately decided that Taichi needed a nutritious meal. He'd probably eaten more than enough fast food in his lifetime considering the empty refrigerator that greeted Yamato that morning. Curry was easy enough to cook anyway so he didn't overexert himself with the task. Taichi found comfort in sitting on the sofa and hearing Yamato moving about in the kitchen. He even turned down the volume of the television so he could better hear the knife hitting the cutting board and the sizzling of the beef as it was pushed around in the hot pan.
Once Yamato had put the curry onto a simmer and set the rice cooker he washed his hands and picked up the kitchen towel to dry them, leaning against the counter and watching the television over Taichi's head.
"What's the best running route to take round this area?"
Taichi had heard him perfectly well, but he still muted the television and turned to look over the sofa at Yamato.
"Huh?"
"You know...exercise?"
"I don't run. I wouldn't know."
"Really? Well, that's a change."
"Not as much as you taking up running. You never used to before."
"I did track most evenings in high school, remember? It's only after I got a job that I couldn't keep it up and had to stop. I've started up again now that my life has kind of levelled out."
"Pff, if that's how you can describe it."
Yamato chose to overlook the comment for the sake of salvaging a reasonably pleasant evening. He could only imagine how tense Taichi was feeling after having him invade his home and his privacy so thoroughly, so he chose sympathy over his usual defensive retort. He dropped the dishtowel onto the counter and crossed his arms with a sigh.
"Right, then tomorrow we run. I want you up and ready by six thirty. I'll sort out the route."
Shock was what Yamato first registered in Taichi's expression; shock and outrage. But as they remained locked in a stubborn conflict of gazes, Taichi's face slowly loosened into a more relaxed position and eventually a light chuckle fell from his lips into the hand that covered them. Yamato's attempt at a stubborn smirk faltered at the show of mockery.
"What's so funny?"
Taichi's laughing quietened and he leant over the top of the couch to face Yamato full on.
"This is just really weird. The old Yama I know would never be so eager to exercise."
Yamato's whole body flinched at the sound of the old nickname. It echoed in his head a thousand times over and a thick ball of heat surged through his chest and up into his throat. Images flashed through his mind and a voice, saying the same name a hundred times over, circled the inside of his ear like water down a gaping drain. He heard it in a windy playground, sheltered under the overhang of the school. He heard it in bed, warm and safe, feeling arms and legs binding his body. He heard it being called to him, on a dark night, through the window of a cab as it peeled away from the curb. Fresh pain and old pleasure came with that name and Yamato turned back to the stove to conceal whatever expression he was making.
"Dinner's ready."
He mumbled through his tight lips. He served the food in silence and avoided Taichi's eyes any possible way he could. He pretended that setting the table was a task that required his entire concentration. He glared at the bowls and chopsticks as though their existence was struggle to comprehend. He set himself a place at the table despite his appetite being nonexistent. He hadn't eaten since the day before and he wisely decided that at least an attempt should be made. Taichi was no help in serving the food and had no trouble helping himself as soon as Yamato sat down. He muttered his thanks for the meal.
The smell of this meal was as heavenly as his breakfast had been and Taichi took his first mouthful with vigour while Yamato only prodded his rice with his chopsticks. It felt strange using them again. He'd become so accustomed to using a knife and fork that they began to feel uncomfortable in the way they sat in his hand. He'd adapted far too well to his new home. Finally, stifling a bubble of nausea that erupted in his gut, he pinched a piece of carrot between his chopsticks and popped it into his mouth. He was so focused on the process of chewing it that he didn't notice Taichi curiously studying him.
"You used to hate carrots."
It didn't matter how tender and well cooked the sweet vegetable was it still seemed to scrape the inside of his throat as a solid piece when he finally swallowed it. A choked sob was the final resistance before the mouthful finally settled into his stomach.
"They're not so bad."
The apartment was dim and silent. The light padding of bare feet creeping down the hallway was only heard by the perpetrator. The only other sound was the rhythmic huff of soft snoring from the futon that was laid out in the main room. Dark eyes could only barely follow the outline of the sleeping figure. The footsteps found their concluding location at the side of the futon where the half dressed figure could loom over the other man. The thin blanket was bunched around his hips and the hand that rested over his bare belly had pulled the shirt up on his chest exposing an unsavoury amount of toned, pale flesh. Legs, splayed akimbo, where naked leading up to a pair of short, loose boxers that did little to clothe the man.
Taichi was slow in forming his body into a crouch. From this position he could feel every puff of air that Yamato released and see the delicate rise of his chest as he refilled his lungs. His stare was hard and critical. Anyone else that met the same face might feel threatened by it. Even his posture, hunched and stiff, read as being dangerous, set to pounce on his prey. It took two minutes of contemplative observation for his fingers to slowly unclench from a solid fist into a weak open palm. He reached it out to tentatively brush it against the edge of the futon. The man lying on top of it made no sign that his sleep had been disturbed, so he cautiously walked his fingers further across it. The other man's hand was now only an inch away from his own and an inviting warmth travelled the distance between them.
Taichi's eyes glazed over into a soft, distant stare as he brushed the tip of his finger over an open palm. The skin was callused and rough but hauntingly familiar. Yamato's hands had always been the most masculine piece of him; always strong and overworked. Their fingers slid together with ease. Yamato curled his fingers unconsciously as he took a particularly deep breath and Taichi's heart leapt in his chest at the second when it felt as though they had been holding hands. It took immense will to stop himself from trying to recreate that sensation by force. He wanted to mould the lax fingers so that they closed over his hand again, but instead he released his grip entirely and raised his hand to his own lips. He ran his fingers gently across his mouth and sighed in frustration.
Yamato would stir only a few seconds later when, through his dreams, he swore he heard the bedroom door close.
Hey, guys. It's been a while. I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to finish. I had this one teensy weensy part that I just couldn't get right and I had to take a break to think about it a bit more. Also, some of my other fics seem to have taken priority recently but I definitely won't neglect this one. This fic is like my baby; the longest fic I've ever written and the first to actually have a decided conclusion. I could never leave it half finished.
I hope you all like the new chapter. As usual I haven't quite proofread it so if you see any serious errors be a sport and let me know, mmkay? It might be a while until the next chapter but it won't take as long as this one did.
Any reviews would be greatly appreciated! You're all such cool people and I love hearing from you :)
Until next tim
Bed. Of. Nails. And. Sandpaper
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