Money and Martyrdom
Taichi rubbed away at the recurring layers of sweat that formed across his forehead. The last time he'd felt this exhausted was at the hardcore soccer camp he'd attended during the summer when he was thirteen. It felt like he was inhaling shards of glass every time he gasped and the stitch in his side was like a vice clamped around his stomach. He hadn't realised initially how out of shape he was when he reluctantly agreed to accompany Yamato on his morning run, but twenty minutes in he was more than ready to hydrate himself with some hard liquor and sleep for the rest of the day. Yamato was two paces in front of him, barely sweating, and breathing in rhythm with his feet as they hit the road. Every now and then he took a look over his shoulder, most likely to check that he hadn't lost his jogging partner, but to Taichi it seemed like he was gloating.
Yamato had briefed him before they'd left the house about the route they were taking. Knowing that Taichi would need time to rebuild his stamina he decided to allow a rest stop for them at the park and when Taichi saw it come into view, with all of his remaining energy, he sprinted the last few meters and collapsed onto the dew damp grass in a heap.
"Sit on the bench, idiot."
Yamato scolded when he came to gradual stop next to him. His face was only slightly flushed and a small amount of sweat had collected on his neck, shimmering in the morning light like a necklace. Taichi contemplated ignoring the comment, filling his chest to the brink of bursting with fresh, cool air. However, the nudge of Yamato's foot against his leg forced him to roll onto his front and push himself off of the floor. He dragged his feet over to the bench a foot away and fell onto it, still panting and wiping away the sweat on his face with his equally moist palm.
"I'll go get us some water."
Yamato said only slightly out of breath. Taichi spitefully glared at him when he turned around to approach a couple of vending machines a short ways away, but he was too tired to hold the expression for long. In truth most of his anger stemmed from jealousy and embarrassment. He couldn't remember another time in his life when Yamato had been in better shape than him. For the past three miles all he'd been able to focus on were Yamato's strong, confident shoulders and his relaxed breathing while he himself had been spluttering, panting and struggling. His pride whined in pain at the thought of Yamato seeing him as weak. Of course he had shown weakness to him in the past, but that had been when they truly trusted each other. Right now, when they were practically strangers, any implication of weakness was insulting.
Contrary to what Taichi believed though, Yamato was actually rather worn out. His renewed smoking habit had resulted in a ball of pain trapped in his chest when he became out of breath and his limbs felt uncomfortably heavy. On top of this the short brake that he'd taken from running after his accident had really affected his stamina and he was upset to find that he found it difficult to run as far as he usually did. Collecting the two bottles of water from the vending machine he returned to the bench to find Taichi with his head tilted back and his eyes closed, breathing deeply.
"How are you feeling?"
He asked and pressed the cold plastic bottle against Taichi's cheek. Taichi blinked dazedly and accepted the bottle, immediately ripping off the top and gulping down half of its contents. He sighed in relief afterwards and moved along the bench to allow Yamato to sit next to him.
"I'm fine. It's just been a while since I've been up this early. Well, if you don't count the times that I didn't actually go to bed."
He laughed and carefully placed the bottle at his feet. Yamato took small sips from his own and nodded.
"Do you run every morning then?"
Taichi asked and looked across the park to watch a young woman struggling to walk three dogs at the same time. Yamato followed his line of sight and observed her difficulty as well with amusement while he replied.
"Not every morning. I normally just try to run a couple of times a week. It keeps my energy up more than anything. If I didn't I'd probably sleep until noon most days and that's just depressing."
Taichi nodded and rolled his shoulders with a pleasured sigh, feeling that they weren't as stiff as they had been when he'd woken up that morning.
"I think I'd definitely benefit from doing this more often. I could use the exercise."
"Well, what about soccer?"
Taichi's calm expression fell and a sadness took over him. Yamato squirmed in his seat, suddenly regretting having brought up the subject and feeling guilty for ruining what had been close to being a nice morning. Taichi opened and closed his mouth several times, struggling to push the words out of his mouth.
"I...I haven't played soccer in a long time."
He mumbled sadly and picked up his water again to take a few small sips to fill the awkward silence. Yamato flicked at the top of his own bottle, unsure of how to reply. Questioning Taichi's statement would either open the conversation to a more upsetting topic or be met with an offended rebuttal. Neither of them were ready to tackle the painful, personal issues that bridged the rift between them so Yamato chose to let Taichi's words linger and said nothing.
Now that they had both caught their breath and their racing hearts had slowed the cold of the winter morning prickled at their cooling flesh. With a shiver Yamato looked around him and better noticed the glistening frost dusting the gravel pathway that snaked through the park and the shimmer of frozen dew on the grass. Taichi as well was beginning to feel the painful cold and sought for anything to talk about to distract himself.
"So, um...how exactly did you fall into this arrangement?"
He asked, tightening his jaw to prevent his teeth from chattering. Yamato looked at him confusedly with an arched eyebrow.
"Arrangement?"
"Yeah. You've been roped into be my temporary live-in counsellor, right? Or, something like that at least. I can't say that I believe that you came up with the idea by yourself."
He said, only afterwards realising how bitter his words sounded.
"What, I can't care about you on my own?"
Yamato retorted with a chuckle, attempting to relax the sour expression that Taichi's face had been pulled into. Instead, what he was given in return was hardened stare.
"Forgive me for being a bit sceptical, but we haven't exactly been friends these past few years."
Taichi stared into the distance, finishing his speech with an awkward slurp of water. He could feel Yamato's wince from across the bench and shifted uncomfortably to quell the urge to move away from him. Yamato painfully chuckled and rubbed his neck.
"Ouch."
he mumbled. Taichi shrugged.
"I'm just being honest."
"I know - and you're right, too. It's just not nice to hear when you put it that way, that's all."
Yamato sighed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He wasn't sure how to answer Taichi's question. If he were to answer honestly there was a substantial risk of offending him or being rejected. He didn't want his concern to seem insincere. He honestly did care about Taichi and wanted to help him, it just happened that initially he'd needed to be coerced into doing so. In a state of panic underneath Taichi's scrutinizing, sideways glances he began forming what he could of an answer in his head and hesitantly replied.
"Well...uh...Hikari and Takeru just told me a bit about what's going on lately and I thought I'd take a shot at trying to be your friend again while I had the opportunity."
"That's it?"
Yamato bit his inner cheek and nervously rubbed his hand over his knee.
"Y-Yeah, mostly."
"But you hate me."
Yamato's hair whipped about his face chaotically when he abruptly turned to look at Taichi.
"What? I don't hate you. Why would you say that? Do you hate me?"
he said urgently with his voice increasing in pitch. He expected Taichi to deny it as fervently as he had but was surprised instead to have to wait for an answer while Taichi sighed in contemplation.
"I don't know. It's complicated."
Yamato's chest throbbed painfully. He certainly didn't plan for Taichi to accept him at first, but he'd never expected that he might hate him. It didn't seem fair. He'd put himself out there and been callously pushed back. His pride wailed in agony at the unbridled blow.
On the other side of the conversation, Taichi wasn't completely unaffected by his own comment. Secretly, in fact, he was berating himself for saying it in the first place. He didn't know what it was that he'd initially hoped to achieve with his confession. He could have just as easily said 'no' and saved himself an uncomfortable explanation and, thinking back, he realised that that was what he should have done. Looking at Yamato's upset grimace gave him no satisfaction or sense of victory. It made him feel guilty and childish. Before he left too long a pause to worsen the situation he'd placed himself in he hurried to correct his mistake.
"Hold on. I didn't mean to say that...well...I sort of did, but I didn't mean it that way. I don't hate you, I think. I just...don't know you."
Yamato nodded along, listening intently to Taichi's ramblings. Before Taichi could say anymore Yamato held up his hand, signalling that no more needed to be said for him to be understood.
"Okay. Well, I don't know you either. So, I guess we might as well try to get along since we're in the same boat."
Yamato said, offering a strained smirk that more or less passed for a smile. Taichi nodded enthusiastically in agreement, deflating in relief and slackening his spine. He too gave a somewhat forced smile in silent apology but had little else to say on the matter and so the two fell back into silence. A gust of icy wind broke around them and they both shivered, reacquainting themselves with the surroundings that they had momentarily forgotten. Yamato chugged the rest of his water and stood up, bracing the icy wind bravely but shivering nonetheless.
"Come on. We should start heading back."
Taichi returned to the apartment with Yamato feeling more energised than he had in a long time, and more compliant as well. He made none of his usual complaints when Yamato ordered him to change his bed sheets and wash the dishes. The day was filled with peaceful, domestic activity. They watched TV, had small, harmless conversation and went to the store in the evening to properly stock the house with healthy food and a few sweet comforts. When the day passed over into evening the two sat down to dinner at the small table and shared a meal of Gyu don prepared by Yamato.
Finishing his last mouthful of beef Yamato leant back in his chair and waited for Taichi to wolf down his third helping. He surveyed the apartment quietly while he had the time to think. For most of the day he'd been preoccupied with keeping Taichi in check and getting the chores done, but now that the apartment was clean and organised he allowed other thoughts to come to mind.
"You know, I've been wondering."
"Mm?"
Taichi mumbled around his bulging mouthful of rice. Yamato cringed in disgust only momentarily before disregarding his poor manners and continuing conversation.
"How can you afford this place if you're not working? Do you get an allowance from your parents or something?"
Taichi thickly swallowed the mostly chewed lump of food and wiped away the stray grains of rice from his chin.
"It's not that expensive. It's big, but the quality's pretty shitty. All sort of stuff's wrong with it; the hot water keeps shutting off; regular blackouts; there's a ton of fire damage that the landlord's too cheap to get fixed up. I worked on and off long enough to live comfortably for a while."
"What sort of jobs did you have?"
"My last job was in construction, but before that I just did whatever was available. I worked in retail; did a couple of months as a courier; bartending; delivery. I even got an interview to be a host once."
Yamato turned his head and let out a strangled cough that disguised his chortle. Taichi as a host? The notion was as rediculous as having a toddler for a waiter. He imagined the man tripping over his own feet and falling into the laps of his patrons; wearing his tie in an awkwardly crooked fashion; dropping fruit down the dresses of the poor women he tried to feed.
"So, how did that work out?"
he asked with a discreet smirk. Taichi's sigh echoed in the bowl he'd lifted to his chin.
"Not well. I had to do a trial for one of the managers and dropped a pretty expensive bottle of champagne. The worst part was when it soaked into his even more expensive white suit."
Yamato could no longer resist laughing out loud. He could picture the scenario so vividly in his head - every detail right down to Taichi's terrified expression as the bottle slipped from his hands. Taichi scowled childishly across the table and lowered his bowl.
"What's so funny?"
Yamato shook his head.
"Nothing. It's just that I was expecting that kind of answer."
"What, you don't think I could be a host?"
Slyly Yamato leant forward in his chair and crossed his arms, pinning Taichi with a self satisfied grin that was anything except apologetic.
"I'm sorry if that offends you."
"No you're not."
Taichi snorted and spread out his legs beneath the table, uncouthly slouching in his seat. With his chopsticks he rearranged the vegetables in his bowl, biting his lip in thought. He had never been a particularly sharp arguer. Clever retaliatory remarks had always been one of Yamato's strengths and a source of humiliating frustration for Taichi. Even now he found it difficult to conjure any sort of rebuttal other than an offended curse. What came to mind instead, however, was an interesting memory that he found through association. Feeling terribly proud of himself he rearranged himself in his chair to mirror Yamato and drew his face into a wry smile.
"Say, didn't you get scouted to be a host in high school?"
Recalling the embarrassing memory Yamato winced and a subtle pinkness washed across his face.
"I thought we agreed to never speak of that again."
he mumbled with a pout. Taichi raised his hand to rest his chin atop of it and amusedly tapped his finger against his cheek.
"Why? I think enough time has passed for it to be funny now."
"It was traumatic!"
"All he did was ask you a few questions."
"Those questions were way too personal."
"Maybe you're just a prude."
"When would a customer ever need to know about my hair situation?"
"Everyone's got a preference. When looking at your baby face they'd probably expect baby smooth balls to go with it."
Just as Yamato was about to reply with his own jeering remark a foreign wind suddenly blew through the room and stopped him. A contemplative hush overcame the two of them simultaneously and their amused expressions became ones of uncertainty. There was a sort of silence hanging in the air that anticipated a greater reaction, where a moment was needed to process what had just occurred. For Taichi this moment was filled with nervous confusion. Just now they had been having a normal, unrestrained conversation, as though all the tension between them had miraculously dissipated. He was in awe of himself for being able to forget the harboured resentment he had for Yamato, if only for a moment. Yamato, in a similar fashion, came to realise how natural it seemed to talk and smile with Taichi and was conflicted the meaning of it. He felt suddenly displaced when he finally registered the strangeness of the situation. Notions of right and wrong fought an endless, futile battle until, finally, he decided to disregard his conflicted conscience and follow his instinct. He began to laugh.
It started with a few muffled chuckles hidden behind his hand, but the longer he struggled to contain them the more persistently they forced their way out of him. Soon enough the apartment was filled with abrupt, raucous laughter, the likes of which bordered on being psychotic. Yamato threw his head back and cackled manically, his cheeks flushed a glowing red and the glisten of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. At first Taichi worried that the man had gone mad. The explosion of merriment seemed to come from absolutely nowhere and, as proud as he was of his sense of humour, he could admit that the joke hadn't been quite that funny. He edged back in his seat and observed Yamato with a bewildered frown, his ears still ringing from the unexpected outburst of noise. Yamato laughed like he was the only one in the room, his expression closer to being one of pain than pleasure. The sight of his usual stoic face strained with mirth was completely abnormal and the harder Taichi tried to analyse the perplexing reaction the more he unwilling empathised. There were so many confusing emotions hanging between them that laughter seemed to be the only suitable means of expressing them. Everything was strange and yet not. Everything was normal and yet not. Any attempts to try and decipher what was happening and what should be happening were pointless and confusing. In the end Taichi found himself laughing just as hysterically as Yamato because it was simultaneously the most logical and illogical thing to do.
Both of them howled and snorted until their faces were purple, rocking back and forth with the force of their cackles. It was truly a cathartic experience - to be able expel all uncertainties and be joyful without reason. For a short while the past and future were forgotten. All that remained was the two of them in the present, sitting down to dinner as strangers, and enjoying the company without needing to rationalise what it was they were feeling.
However, all too soon, the moment passed. The piercing tune of Taichi's phone in his pocket shattered the protective bubble they had formed around themselves and tore through the illusion. The laughter died down and reality came crashing upon them once again. Yamato coughed away the few lingering giggles while Taichi picked out from his pocket and looked at it in deliberation. He read the caller I.D. with a pensive squint, hovering his thumb over the phone's screen.
"Uh...is it okay if I..."
He began to ask but Yamato waved off the rest of the question while wiping away a stray tear that escaped his eye.
"It's fine. Go ahead and answer it. Are you done eating?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the meal."
Answering the call he stood up to find some privacy on the couch while Yamato cleared the table. As disinterested as Yamato might claim to be when it came to Taichi's social life, he couldn't help but focus his hearing on Taichi when he answered his phone call. He even took extra care placing the plates onto the kitchen counter so that he could listen without disturbance.
"Hey Hideki...how you doing?...Yeah, I lived. I don't even remember half of that night, it was crazy...I'm pretty sure I was worse. My hangover was a killer. So, what are you up to?...Right now?"
There was a momentary pause and for a second Yamato thought he could feel Taichi looking at him. When he returned to the conversation his voice was lower but still audible.
"Who's going to be there?...Yeah, of course I want to go, but I'm sort of grounded at the moment. I've got someone staying over at my place...I guess I could try and sneak out later and meet you-"
Growing weary of the conversation and Taichi's pathetic attempts to be secretive, Yamato abandoned the dirty dishes and made himself known.
"Instead of plotting to sneak out you could just ask me, you know."
he said and approached the couch with a chastising stare. Flinching in surprise, Taichi looked over his shoulder and pouted, pressing the phone into his shoulder to muffle the receiver.
"I wasn't talking to you."
"I know. So, where are we going?"
"What do you mean we?"
"If you want to go I won't stop you, but I'm going with you."
"I don't need a damn chaperone."
Yamato shook his head and coolly buried his hands in his pockets.
"I'm just saying that it'd be easier for both of us. I don't want to be woken up at three a.m. by a phone call from you telling me you're God knows where and you need my help to get home. Or worse, I don't want you to mistake my shirt for a toilet again and eject your stomach onto it while I'm sleeping."
Taichi bit his lip and internally winced from being reminded of the embarrassing incident. Yamato's argument was sound but his petulant nature wanted to fight him anyway. Yamato's belittling way of talking to him made him feel like a teenager attempting to disobey their parent. The urge to whine and sulk was strong and it showed on his face. He puckered his lips childishly and scrunched his brow, all the while stubbornly staring down a particularly smug Yamato. When a rebuttal failed to find him he sighed and clicked his tongue in futile resistance before finally lifting the phone back to his ear.
"I'll be there in an hour. I'm bringing someone along with me."
he said into the receiver and hung up without a parting word, the whole time refusing to break eye contact with Yamato.
"So, what's the plan?"
Yamato asked, ignoring Taichi's stubborn glare.
"We're meeting some friends of mine at a bar not too far from here."
"Good. I probably have time to change, then."
Yamato sauntered past Taichi towards his bag of clothes that he had been keeping in the corner of the living room and began to dig around in it for something fresh to wear. Meanwhile Taichi sulked, his pride having been painfully shaken, and felt no need to disguise his displeasure. He grumbled and folded his arms across his chest, muttering to himself about 'annoying assholes' and 'stupid busybodies'.
Yamato stood up with a clean pair of jeans thrown over his shoulder and a t-shirt in hand when he turned around to face Taichi. He scanned his eyes quickly over Taichi's body, noticing his hole filled sweatpants and stained hoodie with a frown .
"You should probably change too, by the way. You look homeless."
"This is how I always dress, asshole!"
Taichi snapped. A mocking chuckle trailed behind Yamato on his way out of the room.
"Then you need new clothes."
Just as Taichi had told him, the bar was only a short train ride and Yamato was surprised to discover that it was strongly familiar. During his teenage years, Taichi and himself would often sit outside the building and watch on with envy as patrons of age walked in sober and walked out drunk and happily fed. Finally being able to enter and sit at the bar felt like an official transition into adulthood that he'd been deprived of. The warm interior was welcoming and quickly soothed his nervousness. The walls were a richly coloured mahogany with dampened light emitting from low hanging lamps, illuminating the room with a soft glow. The restaurant portion of the establishment was occupied by happy customers slurping their food and cheering when the Sake was poured or fresh beer was brought to the table. Yamato hoped that they would sit among them, but instead Taichi lead the way straight to the bar where a crowd of people were gathered in front of both full and empty glasses. After acknowledging the greetings that the staff gave them Taichi rushed ahead to greet the crowd. Not a single face among them was familiar to Yamato and he felt awkwardly out of place watching them fawn over Taichi when he announced his arrival to them. None of them acknowledged his presence and Taichi didn't care to introduce him, so he took a seat at the far end of the table where he would remain uninvolved and asked the bartender for a beer. He didn't really want to talk to the others anyway. As snobbish an opinion as it seemed, they didn't look like the sort of people he would have much in common with.
Taichi took a seat next to the group and those that were standing immediately flocked towards him. He seemed to draw from their energy, brightening in their presence and showing a lively smile. He revelled in their attention and accepted every drink that was bought for him gladly, clapping the men on the back and pecking the cheeks of the women. For a long time Yamato drank his beer in silence, completely unnoticed by Taichi or his apparent friends. There were one or two among them that looked over curiously at him every now and then, but none made the effort to approach him. However, one of the younger males that had happened to catch his eye surreptitiously leant across the table and nudged Taichi to get his attention, all the while peeking at Yamato from the corner of his eye.
"Oi, Taichi, who's the blond? Friend of yours?"
Taichi snorted and rolled his eyes.
"More like babysitter."
he mumbled and took another gulp of beer.
"Is he single?"
Taichi's expression darkened. He lowered his glass carefully onto the table, spying an unaware Yamato in the edge of his sight. A surge of complicated emotions twisted within him and he suddenly felt inexplicably nauseous and strangely offended by the question.
"He's straight."
he replied sulkily. A licentious chuckle flittered across his ear when his friend leaned in closely to whisper "That's what they all say at first."
A few people that had overheard giggled cheekily at the lewd comment, but otherwise no one seemed to be offended by it. None of Taichi's friends were ashamed of their sexuality. He knew for himself how liberal they were when it came to relationships after sleeping with most of them already, but strangely it felt like a sort of betrayal to include Yamato in their depravity - like lending your favourite toy to someone you knew would mistreat it.
Belatedly realising that his friend was already climbing out of his seat, Taichi used his arm to block him before he could approach Yamato.
"Seriously, Takeshi, leave him alone. I'm telling you for your own good. He doesn't like being hit on."
Takeshi gave a toothy smile in response and stepped around the arm that blocked him at his hips.
"We'll see."
he chided and expertly squeezed his way through the crowd of people to reach the empty seat next to the lonely blond. Before Taichi could lift himself out of his own seat to prevent a disaster from occurring a feminine arm hooked around his neck and pushed him back down.
"Taichi, it's no use trying to stop him. Just let him have his fun. I'm sure your blond friend can handle himself."
Taichi grunted tetchily and gulped down the rest of his beer before slamming the empty glass back onto the table
"It's not him that I'm worried about."
he sneered and licked away the traces of foam from his upper lip. Before the alcohol settled in his stomach he called over the bartender.
"Get me some shochu."
he demanded and flicked his empty glass away from him. Covertly he shifted his chair in the direction of Yamato and leaned on the table in a way that put him close enough to overhear the conversation. Takeshi was playing a familiar game. True to his usual technique he took the seat in between Taichi and Yamato and physically cornered the blond at the end of the table.
"Hi."
he greeted in a sultry voice and turned his whole body to face his prey. Yamato spared him barely a glance and not a word of reply came from him. He sipped his beer casually, hoping to signal his lack of interest, but the stranger remained undeterred and instead found Yamato's cold attitude to be an interesting challenge. He dragged his chair closer to Yamato who cringed when the overpowering scent of cologne invaded his nose.
"So, you came with Taichi? How do you know him?"
Feeling like he deserved a cigarette more than ever in that moment, Yamato pulled one from his pocket along with his lighter, placing it between his lips to plug them lest he growl in annoyance at the man sat uncomfortably close. As he lit it a hand slid across the table, pushing towards him a pocket ashtray in offering. Yamato regarded it like a foreign object at first, staring at it in confusion before tentatively accepting it and flicking it open.
"Thanks."
he reluctantly scoffed and tapped the ash of his cigarette into the small container. The stranger next to him grinned victoriously and shuffled even closer until their shoulders made contact.
"What's your name?"
Yamato almost fell into the dangerous trap of pitying the man enough to engage him. The persistence of him was becoming more pathetic the more Yamato ignored him. At the very least he thought that giving his name wouldn't incur too terrible a consequence. Well, that had been his thought until he felt a furtive hand snake around his waist and land on the top of his hip, daringly close to the rim of his jeans. Any kind sentiment that Yamato had towards the man was extinguished mercilessly and with a threatening sneer he turned to face him.
"Get your hand off of me."
he growled in warning. There was nothing he disliked more than strangers that acted overly familiar with him. His inability to tolerate it and short temper had landed him in difficult situations too many times to count, but still he would never sink so low as to allow it for the sake of being polite. This 'friend' of Taichi's was no exception.
Oblivious to the malice that Yamato omitted, the stranger teasingly feigned ignorance and pulled a surprised expression.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was there. It's got a mind of its own, you see."
he jested but, despite the apology, made no move to rectify his offensive action. In fact, instead of the hand being removed, Yamato was mortified to find it winding tighter around him and a hard shoulder sliding across his own to further capture him in an unwanted embrace. Yamato went rigid in distress. When a ghost of hot breath traced his neck he reflexively kicked out his leg, striking his foot against the man's shin. With a yelp of pain the hand on his hip retreated to grab the wounded leg.
"Ow! What was that for?!"
Yamato visibly seethed, suffering to find comprehensible means of expressing his outrage. Before he had the chance to put the man in his place he was interrupted.
"Don't hurt my friends, Yamato!"
Taichi scolded from across the table. Yamato shifted his blazing glare over to Taichi to find him disinterestedly sipping on a fresh glass of alcohol. Had he not seen what had just happened? Hadn't he noticed this letch molesting him? Why was he the one to get blamed?!
The man, now recovered from his injury, chuckled smugly.
"So, your name's Yamato. I'll be sure to remember that."
Gritting his teeth to save from shouting Yamato bit out his reply.
"I'm not interested."
"Hmm, whatever."
The man sulked and stalked back to his seat. As he retreated Yamato once again looked back at Taichi, not caring that his stare was being blatantly ignored. It hurt to be so easily disregarded by him. He'd thought that there might have been an inkling of amity that remained between them but, as he spent more time with Taichi, that light of hope wavered and became dimmer. Did Taichi really not care about him? Not even a little bit? Taichi had said that he didn't hate him, but was that truly the case? Yamato scowled and took a final draw from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray that the stranger had forgotten to reclaim. As he tried to stay away from thinking about Taichi he became more aware of his surroundings and the gossiping whispers that circulated the group next to him.
"What's this? Takeshi got rejected?"
"I never thought I'd see the day."
"Oi, who's that? Has he been here the whole time?"
"He came with Taichi, right?"
Yamato muttered resentfully and did his best to ignore the intruding stares and rude whispers. He even shamefully considered retreating to the bathroom until they decided to change the subject of conversation. Before he could come to a decision, however, one of the younger looking females of the group stretched herself across the table towards him with an inebriated smile that sat crookedly on her face.
"So, you're Taichi's friend? What are you sitting all the way over there for? Come join us. We'll get shots."
She announced. As though her recognition of him had been an act of permission, Yamato found himself suddenly swarmed by people. They stole his half full glass and replaced it with a full one, jammed cigarettes between his lips, piled shot glasses of spirits in front of him and helped him out of his jacket. He felt like a sort of celebrity the way they pampered him and met each of his needs before he even knew he was in need of anything. He looked at Taichi who still sat where he had been, drinking in silence, and sucked on his cheek. It didn't matter that Taichi didn't care. He could change that easily. All he had to do was earn his attention. He'd play the part if he needed to. He'd drink and laugh and be a best friend to all of these strangers until they worshipped him. Then, when Taichi got lonely, as he always did, he'd come crawling over to Yamato to receive the attention he so desperately craved. Yamato would give it to him. He would extend the hand of friendship for Taichi to take and then, once in his grasp, he would rip Taichi out of this world like a babe from the womb and give him the rebirth he needed. Kindness had proven to be ineffective, so, Yamato decided, underhanded manipulation was the next viable option.
He grabbed a shot of liquor and swallowed it in a single gulp. He lit the cigarette coolly and softly exhaled the smoke through his nose. He smiled at the strangers that desecrated his personal space, answered every one of their questions and laughed at their nonsensical drunken jokes and stories. He flirted and flattered like a well paid host, playing the game perfectly, and just as he'd predicted, Taichi slunk to his side to feed from him.
As the night went on Yamato felt himself being pulled back into a world that had once been so familiar to him that now felt strange and foreign. Songs that he hadn't heard in years sifted lowly through the speakers hanging around the bar. He used to sing every word along with them but now he couldn't remember the lyrics. Japanese beer tasted strange on his tongue, as though this was his first time tasting it and he had yet to become accustomed to its bitterness. The cigarettes smelled different - too sweet and thick. The people danced differently and wore different clothes.
He'd thought that he might recognise his younger years in the rapturously drunken youths that surrounded him, but felt instead that he was in a place that he didn't belong. He had never felt so distant from his past as he did in that moment. There was no sense of being at home. He was an alien sent to a foreign place that refused to accept him.
Desperately needing to maintain the charade, he accepted another shot from someone he didn't know and tipped it down his throat with ease, hoping that the alcohol would stop him from thinking about unnecessary things. Sucking on the liquor between his teeth, he upturned the glass onto the table and felt a strong hand clap him on the back.
"Just like the old Yama. You can still drink like a pro."
Taichi cackled with a proud grin.
Yama
That name... That name hooked in his heart and wrenched it ruthlessly, slicing the flesh with its barbed blade. He was beginning to hate that name. He hated the way it burrowed into him and tore open his old wounds. What hurt all the more this time when it had been said was the way Taichi looked at him. His eyes, drooping with drunkenness, were a portal through time back to those years ago. He couldn't bear to look at them for much longer than a few seconds at a time.
The bar emptied as the night went on. One by one patrons gathered their coats and stumbled out the door, leaving echoes of laughter in the doorway. Yamato was now sufficiently drunk but faked sobriety well. He hadn't meant to drink so much but the alcohol had been necessary it seemed. Without it he likely would have thrown in the towel a long while ago and dragged Taichi home. He didn't want to do that. He didn't want to be a babysitter or a warden. He wanted to be his friend, no matter how impossible that might've seemed at present.
At the moment he was having his ear talked off by a young girl - a lot younger than him, it felt like - who talked without pause for breath about her sexually inadequate ex boyfriend. He nodded along absently, realising quickly that she had been hinting at her desire to take him home but choose to ignore it. Just as Yamato was about to openly reject her Taichi stumbled over to him with one arm slung around a woman that was equally unsteady on her feet. His cheeks and nose were a bright red and lines of sweat wetted his jaw and neck.
"Oi, Yama, can you loan me some money?"
he asked with a slur, giddily swaying where he stood. Yamato squinted at him in disbelief. As his hold on his inhibitions had loosened he found himself being far less tolerant of Taichi's drunk antics.
"Are you being serious right now?"
"It's not like a wanted to ask you. I asked everyone else first and they said no."
Taichi shrugged. Both him and the woman tucked into his side stared at Yamato expectantly. He crossed his arms and leant back in his seat, pinning Taichi with a quizzical stare.
"What do you need it for?"
"Well...it's kind of personal."
"That's not an answer."
Lifting his arm from his companion's shoulder, Taichi staggered towards Yamato and caught himself on the table before he could completely topple over. Clumsily he leant towards Yamato's ear and whispered
"I need it for a room."
Yamato winced and pushed him away, despising the way Taichi's breath tickled his ear.
"So, you were going to go to a love hotel for the night and leave me to do what? Go home? Wait for you? Go with you?"
he scoffed sardonically. Taichi's drunken smirk fell into a bitter scowl.
"Would you prefer I fuck her in the bathroom, Yamato? Would that be less of an inconvenience for you?"
"I would prefer that you didn't fuck her at all while I'm here. Do you know her? How the hell were you expecting to get back home?"
"The train."
"You mean the last train that left ten minutes ago? And I suppose you were going to ask me for train fare too, am I right?"
Taichi abruptly slammed his fist onto the table, stealing the attention of the strays left in the bar and the bartender who eyed him warily. He bared his clenched teeth aggressively at Yamato who refused to baulk when Taichi loomed over him. When he shouted he sprayed flecks of spittle across the other's face.
"You could have just said no, you asshole! I don't need you to be my fucking babysitter! I've been doing fine by m-"
Taichi's bloodshot eyes widened suddenly and his face became awash with white. His cheeks puffed as though his words were trapped inside of them and his Adam's apple bobbled jerkily. Stifling a sickly belch he blinked unevenly with his eyes unfocused and swayed forward into Yamato.
"I'm...I'm g'na puke."
he mumbled and tightly clamped his hand over his mouth. Yamato was out of his seat instantly, grabbing Taichi by his collar and dragging him to the nearest bathroom, batting away anyone that blocked his path. He kicked open the door and practically threw Taichi into the first stall muttering angrily to himself during the process. Taichi scrambled on his knees to reach the toilet and once his chin was hung over the rim of the basin he retched violently, filling the tiled room with the sound of splashing vomit and gagging. With a growling sigh Yamato rested himself against the wall and rubbed his eyes. His good will was now entirely depleted. Shortly he entertained the notion of abandoning Taichi and running away to a comfy hotel room to sleep in a proper bed without having to cook or clean or take responsibility over someone. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel the soft, warm mattress against his aching back. But, the fantasy was short lived, to his deep regret, and some time later he was dragging a half conscious Taichi into the back of a cab.
After giving the driver the address Yamato sat back in his seat in time for Taichi to slump onto his shoulder. Grinding his chin into Yamato's collar he released a long, pained groan.
"I'm dying. Why'd you let me go out?"
he whined, wafting his vomit tainted breath under Yamato's nose. Yamato's steely gaze remained locked on the window, watching the passing world outside of the cab. His weary sigh fogged the window.
"Because I'm not your babysitter, Taichi. I'm someone that cares about you."
he mumbled, not even expecting Taichi to hear him since the other man looked to be already passed out. Taichi had managed to cling to consciousness long enough to hear his comment, though, and from his reaction it was safe to assume that he was none too pleased.
Too drunk to gauge his own strength he violently shoved Yamato against the cab door, his vision too unsteady to see when the other's head knocked against the window painfully.
"I don't want you to care about me! I want you to leave me alone and stop trying to take over my life! I shouldn't need to get your fucking permission to do what I want!"
he barked, climbing his way to the other side of the cab by clumsily kicking his legs at Yamato. The outburst had reawakened his nausea and he did his best to fight through it by taking sharp gulps of air and blinking rapidly.
Yamato had his eyes clenched tightly shut to fight the pain while he rubbed the sore spot on his head. He hissed through his teeth and forced down his rising temper, knowing from experience that getting angry would only make his situation worse. That had been the case the other night when he'd dragged Taichi home. A few choice words, none intentionally offensive, had resulted in shattered glass, foul curses and swinging fists that he'd barely managed to dodge. It was quickly becoming clear that Taichi had become a horribly aggressive drunk and in the confines of the cab he knew that an argument should be reserved for another time. So, he took a deep breath and swallowed his massive pride before replying in a calm voice.
"I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."
Taichi's heel was thrust into Yamato's thigh with bruising force.
"Well, I don't need your help! There's nothing wrong with me!"
Yamato deflected the second foot that came towards him before it could make impact with somewhere more vital than his leg and caught Taichi's ankle to prevent a third attack.
"Stop it, Taichi! I'm not going to talk about this now."
Taichi gritted his teeth and growled like a rabid dog. In his muddled state it took a while to realise why his leg was suspended in the air instead of lodged in Yamato's ribs but when he did he pulled it back fiercely. Yamato let his hand hover for moment, still defensively rigid, before slowly lowering it onto his lap.
"You've changed."
Taichi scathingly hissed. He tucked himself against the side of the cab, still seething with rage.
When Yamato looked at him there was no anger - none of his usual fight - only a penitent sadness.
"So have you."
In a dark theatre, in the back row of seats, two boys sat together in the black watching the screen intently. Taichi eagerly looked back and forth between Yamato and the projection to reassure himself that the other boy was still enjoying the film. He'd spent ages deciding on the perfect one and now he was too excited to enjoy it himself. It was their first official date. It had taken days of convincing, planning and a colossal amount of persistence to finally get the other boy to accept the invitation and now that it had finally happened he found his nerves getting the better of him. On normal days he wouldn't hesitate for a second to force a kiss upon him or grope him inappropriately, yet in this moment he could barely find the courage to hold Yamato's hand.
Wetting his parched throat with another sip of soda he stealthily shuffled that little bit closer, brushing his arm against Yamato's that occupied the rest between them.
"Still think dates are dorky?"
he whispered. Keeping his eyes on the screen, Yamato's blank expression turned into a teasing smirk.
"Yep."
he said, punctuating his reply by skilfully flicking another piece of popcorn into his mouth. Taichi puckered his lips into a pout.
"Well, dorky or not, I did good, didn't I?"
"It's not over, yet. There's still time for it to go to hell."
"That's not going to happen."
"We'll see."
Taichi huffed and wriggled lower into his seat.
"Killjoy."
he muttered light heartedly. In the dark he could just about see Yamato's long, pale fingers folded elegantly over the edge of the armrest. It would be so easy to just take his hand. It was right there! He couldn't understand why he was suddenly so nervous. This was Yamato; the guy he grew up with. They'd bathed together, slept in the same bed, shared nearly every intimate secret, kissed and so much more, and yet the thought of holding hands had Taichi's heart ready to burst out of his chest. Every few minutes he was having to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans and readjust his stifling shirt collar. Even sitting still was torture. His legs jittered, his fingers kept tapping against the side of his soda cup and he kept feeling the inexplicable urge to fiddle with his hair.
When an action scene began to play out on the screen he decided that, while Yamato was thoroughly distracted, it was the best opportunity he was going to get. He took his time making his move. He slid his hand slowly up his own thigh until it was directly beneath Yamato's. He started by gently brushing his finger over the tips of Yamato's, testing for a reaction. When he received none he ventured further, travelling his soft caress up Yamato's hand onto his knuckles until, after a tantalisingly slow process, he finally managed to place his hand over the other's and lace their fingers together. Making that final, official contact felt like glorious freedom. The weight on his chest was lifted, his twitching limbs calmed and a giddy, weightless sensation overcame him. Yamato's hand was warm and the underside of his fingers slightly damp, like his own. They hadn't held hands very often but, realising now how pleasurable the experience was, Taichi wondered why that was. He supposed that it just hadn't been something they'd normally consider. Most of the time the hormonal teenagers bypassed chaste pleasantries and could go from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds; one minute they'd be talking about their homework and the next they'd be tearing off each other's clothes as though they'd caught fire. Their hands were never still, they were always stroking and holding and coaxing. But, now that they'd relieved most of the sexual tension, it felt nice to take things slowly, even if it seemed a bit late to play coy with each other.
He licked his lips happily and tenderly rubbed his thumb across the back of Yamato's hand, enjoying the slight roughness of it that was so familiar to him. Next to him Yamato was trying his best not to laugh. He'd been aware of what was going on the whole time and had thoroughly enjoyed watching the changing expressions of Taichi's face. Just to test tease him further, Yamato slyly twisted his hand until it was facing upwards and their palms met, carefully examining the pink flush that conquered Taichi's face. He could hear a distinctive hitch in Taichi's breathing when he wrapped their fingers together and couldn't resist releasing a short chuckle.
"You're such a loser."
"What?! Why?!"
Instead of replying Yamato manoeuvred his arm around Taichi's to bring them that little bit closer together, fighting the separation of the arm rest between them. Their hands were still warmly clasped, despite the flare of embarrassment that was brought on by the contact, and both were happy for them to remain that way.
"Pay attention. You're going to miss the movie."
Yamato told him before licking away the remaining popcorn crumbs and sugar that stuck to his fingers. All previous arguments now forgotten, Taichi spread himself across the arm rest, invading Yamato's seat, and rested his head against Yamato's shoulder.
"I don't mind."
he seductively whispered into a pale neck and used the armrest to raise himself higher in his seat and tuck his nose behind Yamato's ear. He bit his lip victoriously when he felt Yamato's hand hold that little bit tighter to his and felt a shiver course through the arm that pressed against his own. In the dark no one could see the sweet kiss he graced upon the light mark behind Yamato's ear.
"You're such a fucking tease."
Yamato muttered with a slight quiver to his voice. Tachi giggled, shooting pulses of hot breath into Yamato's intimate nook, and became even more delighted with every muffled sound and sensual tremor that Yamato rewarded him with. Brushing the freckle with his lips one last time he pulled back enough to whisper into his ear.
"You like me that way."
Yamato snorted in amusement and shrugged his shoulder to bump Taichi away from his ear. Eventually the other boy did cease his flirtation but he didn't retreat entirely. He wriggled deeper into his seat and rested his cheek on Yamato's shoulder with his head tucked under the other's chin. Yamato bore the discomfort of the weight on his shoulder only because it was Taichi that caused it. Had it been anyone else he would have definitely complained, but so long as it was Taichi's breath that heated his neck, Taichi's warmth that covered his arm and Taichi's hair that tickled his jaw he was happy to withstand any burden.
As soon as they'd entered the apartment they had both gone their separate ways - Yamato to his bed on the living room floor and Taichi to his bedroom - neither wanting to speak or even look at to the other. Almost immediately Yamato had succumbed to his alcoholic lethargy and fallen into a deep sleep, faintly regretting that he had forgotten to brush his teeth. Only a few hours had passed since Yamato had collapsed, half undressed, onto his futon when he found his rest disturbed by an indiscernible cause .
He woke to his voice vibrating in his throat and his chest bouncing with laboured breaths. Disorientated and still half dreaming, he could feel his body thrum and fizz, writhing of its own accord, without understanding why. He was hot - feverishly hot - but, at the same time, he could feel the cold night air skating across his bare skin. Overcoming the alcoholic haze that pulled him back into sleep he lifted his hand to his face and rubbed across his eyes to force them open. Dazedly he registered that something strange was going on. When he twisted his legs to fight the confusing sensations that plagued him he realised that the blanket that he remembered covering himself with was absent. The boxers that he had worn to bed were also misplaced, now bunched around his thighs, and his shirt was tucked up around his neck. Very slowly the realisation came to him that something was very wrong.
A moan clawed its way up his throat involuntarily and this time he knew why. He was awake enough now to distinguish a slick, warm suction being applied to his nipple. Along with it a heated appendage flicked and massaged the bud, teasing it into a swollen peak, before toying with it cruelly. Sparks of pleasure skittered across his skin and a warm shiver travelled down his spine. He could feel all the blood and heat of his body being drawn southwards where a perfectly tight pressure slid up and down his shaft. He might have disregarded the situation to be a disturbingly vivid dream if not for the puffs of warm breath that broke across his chest and the gel-stiffed hair that brushed his neck.
Consciousness came slowly to him and with it came a terrible, sinking dread. He lifted his head to look down at his body and saw for himself the hands that massaged him and the mouth that licked and sucked. A terrified gasp inflated his chest.
"Wha-What the fuck are you doing?!"
he screeched, too shocked to do anything else. Taichi brushed his tongue across Yamato's sternum as he turned his head to look at him, hardly bothered that Yamato was now awake and gawking at him.
"Don't worry about it."
he slurred while his hand still pumped Yamato slowly into hardness. Yamato felt like he'd been suddenly thrown into an ice bath; the comfortable, warm sleep that he'd be wrapped in now something in the far past. His body was rigid in shock, ignoring any commands he gave it to kick away the man that loomed over him.
"Don't tell me not to worry about it! Get your fucking hand off my dick!"
Taichi's responding chuckle was humourless and cold. He trailed his lips up Yamato's neck until they were tucked behind his ear.
"Calm down, it's not as though it means anything."
The wet, scalding lick that Taichi gave to the freckle behind his ear was the worst kind of violation. That place was more sacred than any other part of his body. Only Taichi had ever kissed him there. It was where he'd deposited so many years of love and affection. It was where he would rest his head when they laid together and it was where he breathed hotly when they made love. With that flick of his tongue he had truly ravaged Yamato.
"Get the fuck off of me!"
In a flare of panic Yamato swung his fist into Taichi's ribs and squirmed away from him. He crawled backwards off of the futon and onto the floor, hurriedly rearranging his clothes to cover himself while Taichi coughed and wheezed.
"Wha-What the hell was that for?"
Taichi choked out in between his painful gasps for air. Yamato stared at him in bewilderment, panting irregularly along with Taichi. In shame he clutched tightly to the shirt that covered his saliva slick torso.
"You...what the fuck is wrong with you?! Did you seriously think I'd be okay with you molesting me in my sleep?!"
he shrieked, strangling the fabric of his shirt in his quivering hand. He gaped in awe as Taichi slowly unfolded himself from his painful hunch, still running his hand along his wounded ribs. He sat on his knees and coldly directed his bloodshot eyes towards Yamato.
"Aren't you supposed to be looking after me? It's not as though I haven't fucked you before, what's the big deal?"
he said impassively, brushing the hair from his face with aberrant calmness. Yamato scrambled to his feet in horror, wanting to put as much distance between himself and Taichi as possible. His eyes, still moist with sleep, were pulled wide and his jaw slackened in shock. Taichi looked up at him with an empty stare, looking almost dead in his expression. Nearly all traces of his drunkenness had gone and if he hadn't been very slightly swaying Yamato might have been tricked into thinking he was sober.
The room was seized by an intense, oppressive silence as though the two had been sucked into a vacuum. Yamato stood frozen, too shocked to react, and for a while it felt as though his soul had vacated his body and he was witnessing the scene from somewhere on the ceiling. The sudden emergence of this character that he had never met before scared him. It had been thought and voiced before, but now more than ever Yamato found it to be true; they really were strangers. He had never known the Taichi of his past to be capable of such maliciousness and he could barely comprehend the idea that Taichi would ever frighten him. And yet here he encountered a side of Taichi that was beyond recognisable. He was disturbingly cold and spiteful and Yamato dared to question if this part of him had been lurking beneath the surface all along and it was only now that he'd met his true face.
For a while it felt as though he had been sinking into a black ooze and now, finally, he had reached the bottom of the dark pit. A bubble of air clogged his throat while his instinct to breathe had suddenly failed him and when it finally burst it filled the apartment with an anguished curse.
"Fuck you!"
he screamed with his eyes clenched shut and solid fists shaking at his hips. His next breath shuddered down his neck like a stifled sob. In that one eruption all anger had been expelled from him and now what remained was a rancid, thick grossness that coated his skin and lined his stomach. He felt dirty and despised. He could still feel Taichi's mouth and hands sliding over his skin and the heat of his arousal refused to cool. He coiled his arms around himself, hoping to hide the invisible filth and repress the excruciating shame that washed over him. He lowered his eyes to the floor.
"Just...fuck you."
he barely managed to whisper. An icy hand gripped his heart and suffocated the palpitating organ. Adrenalin poisoned him, making it impossible to draw breath and rattling him with tremors.
The vengeful spirit that had possessed Taichi abandoned him unexpectedly. In an instant a strange, familiar feeling came over him while he stared up at Yamato's grief filled glower. It seemed like this had happened before somehow. He remembered a dark room, a pain in his cheek and Yamato's distraught expression as he looked down on him. Guilt from the past rushed into him along with sickly regret. It was as though he had been sleepwalking and woke up to find himself somewhere strange. There was an overwhelming notion that he needed to fix things right now - right now - or else he would never get another chance. He'd never see Yamato again. He'd go away forever to somewhere that Taichi could never go.
Awoken from a daze, his vacuous stare melded into a look of sudden, horrifying realisation. He clawed his way over to Yamato desperately, tripping over his own feet and the tangled blanket in his haste to reach him.
"No! Wait!"
he cried out. Before Yamato had time to retreat Taichi grabbed his wrist.
"I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I'm so sorry!"
"Don't touch me!"
With one forceful tug Yamato wrenched his arm free, sending Taichi sprawling sideways across the futon. No longer hesitating, he took the chance to flee immediately and turned his back on Taichi. He stormed through the apartment as fast as he could, struggling to find a confident pace while his knees seemed too weak to support his weight. Behind him he could already hear Taichi making chase.
"Wait! Yama! I'm sorry!"
Yamato sprinted the last few paces to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him before Taichi could barge through it. He twisted the lock and stepped away from the door, all of his energy suddenly flooding out of him and leaving him a panting, shaking mess of a man. When Taichi slammed into the door with a dramatic thud his legs finally gave way. His backside smacked into the tiled floor painfully and his legs splayed chaotically in front of him.
"Yama! Come out! Please! I didn't mean it! Please, talk to me! I'm sorry!"
There was that name again. It killed him to hear it. He didn't think anything could hurt as much as this did. He'd happily accept punches, kicks and curses from Taichi if it meant he could be spared this humiliation. The shame was physically painful. His stomach contracted into a solid mass, forcing bile and acid into his throat. When he tucked his legs into his chest his thighs brushed his arousal, sending an unwanted twinge of pleasure through his core.
Taichi's shrill pleas had quietened and his presence had become barely detectable behind the door, but Yamato could still sense him there. He could hear his breath seeping through the splits in the wood and his nails scratching against the grain. Soon his voice once again filtered through the door, much quieter and reverent as though uttering a prayer.
"I'm sorry, Yama. I'm really sorry. Please, don't leave it like this. Yama-"
"Stop calling me that!"
he howled, knotting his fingers in his hair and pulling at it in helpless distress. He curled his legs tighter into his body and tucked his head between his knees, hoping that if he made himself small enough he could shrink out of existence. The coldness of the bathroom tiles seeped through the soles of his naked feet and climbed its way upwards through his body, banishing the heat of lust. But on the surface, encasing the threads of ice that coursed through him, he could still feel the warm traces that Taichi had left on him. He felt captive within his own body, a slave to his hormones. It had been so long since he had last been touched so intimately that against his will he craved more of that pleasure and saw himself as weak for doing so.
With his last ounce of strength he stripped himself of his clothes and climbed into the shower, turning on the water to the coldest setting. The water was so frigid that it burned at first but the pain gave him perverse satisfaction. He didn't shy away from the freezing downpour. He burrowed into the wall beneath the spray, grinding his hands into the tiles to stop from shivering, and focused on the stinging lines hat trailed down his back. Until he became completely numb he remained in that position, motionless other than blinking his dull eyes that watched as the water circled the drain. Taichi's pleas had fallen silent or been drowned out by the steady flow of breaking water and the silence brought immense relief. Yamato closed his eyes and released a miserable sigh, taking refuge in his isolation. It was the closest thing to comfort he would find in a place so far from home.
Oh MY GOD! This took me FORREEVVVEERRRR! It's like I just ran out of words while writing this chapter. I kept repeating myself! It was effectively written about two months ago but I've just had to keep editing it over and over again because I'm running out of things to say, if that makes any sense. I tried my best, though. So, I apologise if the quality is poor. I've been putting so much of my brain power towards my other stories that it's kind of hard coming back to this one, especially after rereading the amateur writing of the first few chapters.
But, I am not giving up! I am going to finish this story if it killss me!
Thank you everyone that's stuck with it and I'm so sorry for making you all wait. I'm going to try and not leave it for so long next time. Please let me know if there are any obvious mistakes and leave me your thoughts.
Thank you for all the support. It is immensely appreciated :)
Bed. Of. Nails. And. Sandpaper
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