Saturday, May 16, 2009
Edited: Tuesday, December 28, 2010
In the previous chapter: Takeru and Miyuki made up, but Takeru found out some devastating news from Miss Kinoki: for his failing test grade, Takeru must convince Yamato to audition for the school musical or else Takeru will have to take his place. Akari offers him a bit of friendly advice. Hikari, meanwhile, finally caught a break, and got the chance to speak with Miranda, one of her best friends from America.
This chapter was inspired by "Apologize" by OneRepublic, "Sorry" by Maria Mena, and "7 Things" by Miley Cyrus—please no Miley Cyrus bashing. If you don't like her, that's your business. It's not necessary to share.
Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon. If you sue me, all you're going to get is an alarm clock with a ridiculously loud and annoying alarm. Have fun with that.
All-American Girl
By ebacusta
Chapter 7:
Apologize
When Yamato opened the door, he did not expect to find his brother dripping wet on his door stoop. "Takeru," he murmured in surprise, scratching his ear lazily. He never expected to see his brother, especially not on a Thursday afternoon, standing unusually close to the space the door had occupied a few seconds previous. Yamato's younger sibling stood quietly at his door, an athletic bag slung across his shoulder, his book bag in hand, and a dripping umbrella by his side. To avoid the rain, he had pressed himself as close to the door as he dared without thrusting himself completely upon it. As a result, when the door opened, the two siblings found themselves only inches from each other.
"Uh…" Takeru intoned, awkwardly, looking everywhere but Yamato as he searched for words to explain his position. When he found none, he finally allowed their gazes to meet. Yamato merely stared at him, slowly taking in the situation.
"I know mom wants us to become closer, Takeru, but you and my door is not what I had in mind."
Takeru's face flushed with embarrassment, and, instantly, he jerked his shoulder back, stumbling as he went. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be…that close to the door…I was just trying to avoid the rain," he mumbled, trailing off. "And I just thought that maybe…"
"Nevermind," the older blond replied, stepping aside. "Come in,"
"Thanks," Takeru said as he entered the apartment. He tapped the excess rain water off his umbrella before leaning it in the corner against the wall and wiping his shoes on the welcome mat.
Yamato watched his brother in silence. He seemed distracted. 'Must've met a girl,' he reasoned, and closed the door. "It's good to see you again, TK. Twice in one week. To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.
Takeru froze, his fingers resting on the tops of his shoes. 'Should I tell him?' He supposed it would be courteous to tell Yamato upfront why he'd stopped by. At least if he told his brother, he might feel a little relief from the sense of impending doom nesting in his stomach. The feeling had not gone away since the previous afternoon when his failing math grade had ruined his life.
…Okay, perhaps he was being a little melodramatic. So he'd tell him.
On the other hand, Takeru had just walked all the way here. In the rain, no less. If he asked Yamato about the musical upfront and Yamato said no, it'd feel weird hanging around for any length of time afterward. Takeru paused to consider the situation and nodded. His lips were sealed.
He picked up his shoes and dropped them next to the umbrella before straightening. "Nothing in particular," he replied, thinking vaguely of how he'd dragged himself across town, sloshing through water with feet seemingly made of lead. "I had time after basketball practice—not like mom's going to be home. Thought I'd see what's up." He discarded his school bags and followed the older boy through the apartment.
"Ah," Yamato replied, walking through the living room into the kitchen. A laptop sat on the counter with a small laser mouse wired to it. Beside it sat a half-empty glass of water, a bottle of beer, a crumpled napkin smeared with yellow stains of some condiment, probably mustard, and a plate with crumbs of bread and tiny shreds of lettuce on it, clearly the remains of a sandwich. "Well, there's nothing that interesting going on here." He paused by the refrigerator. "You want anything?"
Takeru shook his head. "I'm fine."
"Suit yourself," Yamato said, climbing up onto the stool in front of the laptop. Takeru followed him, grabbing the stool next to him. Yamato hardly noticed. He was too busy staring intensely at the computer screen. He studied it a moment and then began clicking, swooping the mouse around the screen with the ease of a seasoned professional. Curious, the younger teen leaned forward to see what Yamato was doing.
He appeared to be editing a photograph of a girl, all but her right eye hidden by a plaid newsboy cap. The perspective of the photo afforded Takeru a look at her whole body. Her legs were clad in jeans, one propped up on the edge of the chair, the other hanging over the edge lazily, disappearing from view. From there, he could see the white tank that skirted her stomach, lightly kissing the skin it covered. A coral scarf wrapped around her neck hung in front with a large triangle of fabric, which vaguely reminded Takeru of the cowboys in the cartoons he watched in his younger years. Her left arm rested on her propped up knee, while the fingers grasped the bill of the cap easily. A silver ring glinted on her ring finger, while half a mischievous smirk curved across her face.
"What are you doing?" Takeru asked.
"Working on a project for my advertising class."
"Yeah? What are you advertising?" Takeru asked, staring at the girl, looking so relaxed, yet so put together.
"Sora's clothes. We're supposed to team up with people of different disciplines to advertise a product, and since Sora's in fashion design, Tai and I decided we'd just use her creations. Not like we had to change our schedule any. She's over here all the time anyway."
"Oh, cool," Takeru replied.
"I guess," Yamato shrugged, saving the changes he'd just made to the image and clicking print. He jumped off his stool and disappeared from the room, reappearing a moment later holding a paper in his hands. He frowned as he stared at it before crossing the room and sitting down again, discarding the paper to the side. Immediately, he started clicking again. Takeru picked up the paper and examined it.
"This is pretty good. Looks legit," he said after studying it a moment.
"Thanks," Yamato replied. "It better give us an 'A.' Taichi pissed off our professor last week, and if we don't put in the effort we'll get stuck cleaning the chalkboard erasers for a week." He pulled a face as he tapped a few keys on the keyboard. "Forget that. I left that crap behind when I graduated high school."
Takeru grimaced. "Sounds brutal. Well, I think you'll do fine. If I saw this ad, I'd buy some of Sora's designs for my girlfriend." The compliment had come out sounding kind of lame, but Takeru was sincere. The ad intrigued him.
Yamato stopped and turned to face his brother. "Thanks, Takeru. That means a lot." No tears sparkled in his eyes, but Takeru could see the gratitude in Yamato's eyes. For all the knowledge Yamato seemed to have of the program, he'd clearly spent the majority of his free time working on the project. Takeru acknowledged his brother's appreciation with a smile.
"No problem," he replied, turning back to the paper he held in his hands.
"So are you still dating that Keiko girl?" Yamato asked, going back to the task at hand.
Takeru frowned. Keiko? "No, we broke up forever ago. Like a year and a half ago."
Yamato's froze again, as his cheeks reddened. Had it really been that long since they'd last really talked? He felt so embarrassed. "Sorry to hear that. She was a really nice girl," he mumbled as he went back to work.
"Yeah, but she made everything such a big production. She planned and timed everything. We were always on a schedule. 5:45: Arrive at her house. Catch the train at 6. Enter restaurant at 6:13. Sit down to eat at 6:21 and twelve seconds. It was pain. We could never be spontaneous. The one time I tried surprise her with flowers and a movie, she got so mad at me, she didn't talk to me the entire evening. She wouldn't let me kiss her until like our seventeenth date." Yamato fixed Takeru with a disbelieving stare. Takeru returned his gaze a moment and then gave in, "Okay, we didn't go on seventeen dates, but it took a long time. It's not like I tried to force myself on her, but after hearing 'It's not the right time' seven times, I lost interest."
"You can't blame her," Yamato slurred, turning his attention back to the laptop and, placing his elbow on the counter. He rested his head on the palm of his hand "Girls dream about things like their first kiss with a new guy. She just wanted it to be perfect, I'm sure."
"I guess, but I like to be able to kiss my girlfriend. Anyway, I ended it. I'm dating this girl, Miyuki, now."
"Oh yeah? What's she like?"
"She's…cool."
"Really? Cause you sound like you're walking to your execution. Can't kiss her either?"
"Oh no, I can kiss her. In fact, I'm pretty certain she wants to take our relationship to the next level."
"Oh?" Yamato perked up. "Sounds great. Awesome, man!"
"I guess…"
The older blond frowned and released the mouse facing Takeru again. "That's not a good thing?"
"Yes, no… I don't know. She's really pretty, but I'm not sure I want to make that commitment with her. She's very…" Controlling? Rude? Self-centered? At least that's what other people said. "…demanding."
"Clingy?"
"Kind of. In her own way. Jealous."
Yamato winced. "Ouch. Proceed with caution, Takeru. Girls like that can be bad news if you aren't careful." Takeru nodded, sullenly, and a silence settled over the room. "Hey listen," Yamato interjected. "I'm sorry we haven't talked much in recent years. It's my fault. I never took as much of an interest in your life as I should have once I started college. But that's gonna change. High school can be really rough, and I know mom's not around much, so… I want to be your rock—the older brother you should have had, but didn't. You're welcome here anytime."
Takeru looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Yamato." The two sat in easy silence as Yamato turned back to the computer, and Takeru went back to studying the picture absentmindedly. "So when this thing due?"
"Monday. I'll be glad when it's over, but our professor's a total slave driver. We got another ad assignment today, due in two weeks."
"That sucks, man," Takeru replied. He glanced at the clock and swallowed roughly. Now was the time to breech the subject of the musical. He nervously thumbed the page he held in his hands. Some of the ink smudged. Shoot. He wanted to keep this, if he could. He laid the page down on the counter and wiped his sweaty palms on the leg of his pants. "You know what? I bet singing in front of an audience would cheer you up." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Takeru wanted to take them back. 'The hell is wrong with you, Takeru? Could you have come up with a dorkier way to start this conversation?'
Yamato stopped working and glanced at Takeru, confused. "What?"
"Um, er, uh, well… Remember when you used to describe playing in your band as a cathartic experience? But you guys haven't played a gig together in a while, right? I bet you miss it, huh? So what better way to get back onto the music scene than by singing the lead in my school's musical?"
Yamato blinked at the younger boy a moment, and then did exactly what Takeru hadn't wanted him to do. He burst out laughing. And kept laughing until his face was red and his abs were sore. Takeru sat in miserable silence, his own face reddening from embarrassment. "Takeru," he finally wheezed, clutching his stomach. "You've flipped your lid if you think"—hahagigglesnort—"I'm going…"—sniggersniggerchucklesnort—"to sing in a high school musical." As his laughter and exclamations of incredulity ("I can't believe you asked if I wanted to sing in a high school musical! Hahaha, that's rich, TK!") continued to echo through the empty apartment, Takeru allowed his forehead to drop to the counter. He wanted to die. This was way beyond embarrassing—it was positively mortifying!
Hikari stared, disheartened, into her desk. She'd stepped out to use the bathroom. Obviously, she should have expected her books would turn up missing. Again. They'd been "mysteriously" disappearing ever since Miyuki realized that her attempts to trip Hikari in the hallways had begun to fail. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that when Miyuki's lackeys line the hall, it's time to find another route. Though she could easily dodge their attempts to trip her—she just had to step over them—that required her full attention, 24 hours a day, 5 days a week. She was sick of trying to watch where she was walking and double-checking that no one was coming at her with another "broken," (read: leaking) ink pen. She'd taken to avoiding them all together. Sure it meant taking the long route, but she enjoyed the peace and quiet she experienced along the way.
She sighed and closed the desk softly, pushing back her chair as she stood. She'd have to go find them. Again. She ignored the titters and sniggers from Miyuki's crowd as she passed, and barely resisted the urge to kick one of their chairs out from under them. Her patience for their childish pranks was dwindling fast. She stomped down the hallway, glad she had some time to herself. The only problem was she had no idea where to find her books. Sometimes they were together, sometimes apart, usually found by other kind souls who took it upon themselves to return them. With nowhere to begin, Hikari took to checking everything that seemed like a good hiding place.
She found them several minutes later, dumped in a garbage can in the third-year wing. Annoyed, she rooted through the trash, tossing out her books as she found them buried under other people's midmorning snack wrappers. She tried not to puke.
"Hikari!" a voice called. When she looked up, she was blinded by a flash of light and two girls skipped off down the hall, guffawing. Hikari suppressed the urge to scream. She rescued the last book from the garbage and lugged the stack back to second-year wing where she carefully wiped each book's cover clean with a damp towel and then washed her hands. The brunette snorted as she started the trek towards homeroom, entertaining pleasant thoughts of revenge, revenge that, unfortunately, wasn't practical. There was no way Hikari could take on Miyuki's whole entourage by herself. She sighed again.
"Hey, Hikari," Ryuji said, coming up behind her. Daisuke appeared on her other side, falling into step with the other two easily.
"Hi Ryuji, Daisuke," Hikari replied, smiling.
"Hey, what's up, Hikari? Do you need some help with your books?" Daisuke asked, proffering his hands to her.
"Yes, that'd be great!" She gasped in relief as she the weight of her books eased until she was left with but one book to carry—a paperback at that. Her smile widened as she looked at the two gratefully. "Thanks so much. Huge relief. Those things are heavy. You'd think the teachers were trying to break our backs."
Daisuke groaned in agreement. "I know! They can't seriously expect us to lug them home every night."
"That's why you go for the don't-do-it-at-all approach, I'm assuming?" the brunette asked, her red eyes shining with laughter.
"No!" Daisuke exclaimed, feigning hurt that she would even imply that. He blinked at her innocently, pretending he was trying to restrain tears. "I do it in the mornings."
"Right before class," Ryuji chimed in with a smirk.
"If it works, it works," Daisuke replied with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders.
"Sure, sure," Ryuji agreed before turning his attention to Hikari. "Why were you carrying them through the hallway? Don't tell me you took them all home last night!"
"No. Someone ran off with them again. It was Chieko and Kaoru no doubt. Dumped them in a trashcan in the third-year hallway."
"Again?" Daisuke asked. Hikari nodded. The soccer-fanatic looked up at Ryuji, concern etched across his brow. "Don't you think it's time this stopped? I mean, the tripping and the stealing. Takeru and Miyuki aren't having problems, are they?"
Ryuji frowned and shook his head. "No, they're solid."
"I wonder why Miyuki's got it out for Hikari then. She can't still be mad about Hikari shooting her down last week," Daisuke pondered aloud.
"I wouldn't put it past her," Hikari deadpanned. The trio was about to enter homeroom when Hikari spotted Miyako talking to Akari, his lanky frame leaning against the wall, relaxed. He ran a hand through his hair, which lay ungelled and normal against his skull, bangs covering his left eye. The lilac-haired girl caught Hikari's gaze and moved toward her, waving goodbye to the taller boy. "Hey, I'll be in a minute. Thanks for carrying my books, guys. I really appreciate it. One more, please." She handed the paperback to Ryuji.
"Yeah, sure." "No prob," the two guys chorused together.
"Miyako," Hikari said smiling and gesturing to Akari as he disappeared into homeroom as well. "What was that about, hmm?"
Miyako flushed a light shade of pink. "Nothing much."
"Oh really?" the younger girl questioned. "So you're slowly turning the color of a cherry because of 'nothing much.'" Her last sentence was not so much a question as a statement. She smirked, knowingly.
"Really, it's nothing. I just lent him a CD, and he was telling me what he thought of it," Miyako replied.
"And?"
"And he liked it! He asked if I had any more of their stuff."
"Oh, Miyako! You two really seemed to hit it off, didn't you?"
The bespectacled girl's face lit up. "Well yeah," she exclaimed, leaning forward eagerly. "Like I told you when I called you about the trip, I just happened to notice that he was buying g5's new CD, and I was like, 'I love them!' and we just started talking. Who would have thought I'd have similar music tastes to the school rebel?"
"That's great!" Hikari crossed one arm across her chest and let the other rest against her rib cage while her finger tapped her chin thoughtfully. "And you know what they say about two people with similar music tastes."
"What?"
"They walk to beat of the same drum—you guys are made for each other!"
Miyako pulled back and blinked at her friend in confusion. "What?" she asked again, this time incredulous. "They do not. You just totally made that up. Only an idiot would say that."
"So what if I did? It's true!" Hikari replied. She jabbed her finger in Miyako's direction. "And that was cold. Don't take it out on me just because you don't know how to walk in step with that drum!" she chided in response the older girl's other remark. A scream echoed from Hikari's homeroom and was quickly followed by the sound of chairs hitting the ground and desks scraping across the floor. The two girls paused in their conversation to glance at the wall, as if they had x-ray vision that would allow them to see what had just happened.
They stared at the wall a minute, and then Miyako turned back to the brunette and sighed, crossing her arms. "Hikari, what in the name of Satan's panties are you talking about? Where do you even come up with these things?"
"Tai."
"Who?"
"My brother."
"What?"
"You'll understand when you meet him."
"If I want to meet him…" Miyako mumbled, apprehensively.
"No, no! Tai's great. Honestly, he's not that bad. Just give him a chance."
"Mm-hmm…"
"And anyway, this isn't about Tai, this is about you and Akari being totally made for each other. The key to his lock—"
"That sounds dirty."
"—the charm to his chain—"
"This conversation is over," Miyako replied, shaking her head and starting to walk down the hall.
"—the 'g' to his '5'!"
"Goodbye, Hikari," Miyako called back without looking over her shoulder as she continued towards her homeroom.
"See you after school!" Hikari yelled after her, waving. She crossed her arms again and laughed, grinning from ear to ear. She loved weirding out Miyako. Chuckling again, Hikari dropped her arms to her sides and strolled into class, immediately glancing to the corner of the room to see what the screaming and crashing had been about.
The desks were strewn around, pushed from their usual uniform columns and rows into a circle at the center of which were two knocked over chairs and Miyuki, clutching her ankle. She seemed hysterical, searching around her person frantically. "Did anyone find it? Did anyone get that spider?" she cried out. Her friends fawned over her, barking orders at other classmates to look for the 'monster' that had allegedly attacked the petite brunette.
"Are you okay, Miyuki?"
"Did you hurt your ankle too badly, Miyuki?"
"Can you walk, Miyuki?"
And, of course, Takeru sat dutifully by her side, holding her wrist trying to coax her hands away from her ankle so he could take a look and confirm whether her ankle was sprained or just twisted. Miyuki melodramatically collapsed against his strong chest, breathlessly telling him just how big and ugly this spotted spider had been.
Hikari took all this in within a fraction of a second, and it took another fraction for the whole scene to lose its importance. Suddenly, she was dripping wet. The class turned to see look at her, and she realized she'd screamed when the water cascaded down around her. The cruel laughter that sounded from her left, followed by the sound of hands clapping together in celebration of job well done told Hikari all she needed to know. Her gaze shifted back to the opposite corner to take in Miyuki's smug face smirking back at her. She could feel her shirt pressing against her chest and stomach, the water caressing the skin as it dripped onto the ground below. Her skirt clung to her legs, emphasizing their shape, creasing slightly in the middle where the cotton material had nothing but air to grasp.
She peered at the faces of her classmates, most reflecting the same shocked expression she had upon her own face. And then, slowly, she began to see the flashes of recognition as mouths twitched into small smiles. The boys suddenly seemed happy. Hikari looked down and realized why. Her shirt was white. Immediately, as she glanced up in horror, tears began to bubble in the corners of her eyes. They traced themselves down her already wet face, and like the water droplets on her nose, dripped from her face onto the floor. Her chest heaved as a sob began to build in the depths of her gut; she buried her face in her hands, humiliated, and sprinted out of the room.
The classroom was silent. No one, not even Miyuki, had so much as coughed. Everyone was stunned, and Takeru was no exception. His mouth hung open, at first unable to comprehend what exactly had happened. But as he looked at Chieko and Kaoru standing on a desk pushed by the door holding an empty bucket from the art room, it all clicked into place. A whisper from beside him broke the silence, followed quickly by more whispers and quiet chuckles. He turned to his suddenly quiet girlfriend, seeking an explanation as to why two of her lackeys were standing there high-fiving each other. He was ready to give her the benefit of the doubt—the the two had acted without her orders and had not told her what they were planning, but her gloating expression shattered those well meaning thoughts. Her eyes were sharp, cruel and cold, without an ounce of regret. You got yours, they seemed to say. Takeru stared at her, astounded.
And all at once, the astonishment turned to anger. Takeru jerked his hands away from the girl, almost pushing her away in his effort to stand up. "I can't believe you," he spat, glaring at her a second before shoving his way through his classmates. "Hikari!" he called, rushing out of the room after her, leaving an abruptly confused Miyuki in his wake.
"Are you okay?" Takeru asked. They sat in the sun, outside on the steps, he in a ribbed tank and Hikari in her gym uniform, Takeru's school jacket wrapped around her shoulders. Her school uniform was currently in the dryer. At his question, her face flushed.
"That was so embarrassing," she gasped, dropping her face into her hands and slowly running them up through her hair. "I was wearing a white shirt."
Takeru felt horrible. He couldn't imagine what had crossed her mind when that happened in front of a group of people she hadn't yet known two weeks. And what was worse, his girlfriend was the reason. "I'm so sorry," he said, apologizing for the fifteenth time. "I can't believe she'd stoop that low."
"It's not your fault," Hikari hiccupped, covering her eyes with her hand and resting the arm on her knee.
Takeru stared at her uncomfortably. He wished she'd say something else, because even though she said it wasn't his fault, he couldn't help but try to take responsibility. After all, he'd let Miyuki pick on Hikari without putting forth much effort to stop her, and here it had gotten totally out of control. He should have said something. He wanted to make up for his lack of action before the incident; she looked like she could have used a hug, but… He didn't know her very well. Hugging her would have been more awkward than helpful, and wasn't that kind of a girly thing to do? As if it wasn't bad enough that he'd run off with her, he'd intentionally chosen a stairwell that couldn't be seen from his classroom. Miyuki was probably dying to see what was going on and pissed that she couldn't. She'd bend his ear about it later—but then, on second thought, why did he care? To think she was that malicious made him sick to his stomach.
"I'm sorry about Miyuki. She's a real bitch sometimes." He paused, letting the gravity of what he'd just said sink in. He'd called her 'vindictive,' 'unkind,' and 'mean,' but never a 'bitch.' Slowly, a smile spread across his face. He turned to the brunette, who, though still hiccupping and sniffling, had finally stopped crying. He continued, "She gets really jealous, and while it definitely doesn't excuse her behavior, she seems to have this idea that the school is split into people that are either with her or against her, with no one in between. At first, I think she only disliked you because you turned her down when she asked you to join her crowd. But last Friday, we saw a movie together and I…" he paused again, this time contemplating what he was about to say. He hoped it didn't make him sound weird or stalkerish. He took a deep breath and took the plunge, "and she said some really rude stuff about you, and I stuck up for you. I called her a jerk and walked out on our date. Even though you had nothing to do with it, I'm pretty certain she blames you for my behavior." He stopped again and looked at her, hoping the sincerity of what he was about to say shown through so that she would understand that he really did need to make an apology. It was his fault. "I'm not sure how she jumped to that conclusion, but she's had it in for you ever since. And then, you know, the composition project didn't help much either. Somehow, she dragged you into the middle of a fight you had nothing to do with. I'm sorry."
Hikari mulled this information over a bit and smiled, "It's all right. I know all about crazy girls and their insane assumptions." She thought back to Alexandria, who'd decided to take it upon herself to single-handedly try to make Hikari's life miserable. Of course, when she was in California, Hikari had had Angela and Miranda to back her up. Here, she had no one. "When I was in America, I knew a girl who was a lot like Miyuki. She hated me—I never knew why—and she'd just pick fights with me, everyday. Nonstop. Me and my best friends. I gotta say, though, she never dumped a bucket of water on me. A soda, maybe, but never a bucket of water." Hikari's smile grew wider, and she rested her chin on her knees. "But it didn't hurt as much then, because I knew Angie and Miranda always had my back…" she trailed off.
Takeru completed her thought. "It's kind of difficult to form that same support system when you've only been here for two weeks."
Hikari's face brightened, and she straightened. "Yeah."
"It's hard being separated from your loved ones," Takeru nodded. "When my parents got divorced, I thought the world was over. If I didn't have my older brother's support during the whole ordeal, I think my world, at least, probably would have ended. Unfortunately, we don't talk much anymore, I almost never see my dad, and mom's always working, so believe me, I understand."
The sadness returned to her eyes as she slumped back over, her chin resting once again on her knees. "You may be the only one who does," she sighed.
"I can't believe her," Takeru complained as he glared at the corkboard posted in the entrance hallway to alert students of the happenings in the school. Takeru ripped off a flyer and crumpled it into a ball. He didn't need to read at it to know what it was; copies hung up all over school sporting a picture of Hikari leaning over a trashcan with the bold title: DUMPSTER DIVING: Hikari's favorite pastime. "When does she even find time to do this crap?" Ryuji shrugged as Takeru yanked another copy of the flyer off the wall. The two continued towards the door.
"Good news: at least we don't have practice today," Ryuji supplemented, trying to get Takeru's mind off a subject that clearly bothered him.
"Tch, yeah, I guess," Takeru replied. He tossed the wads of paper into the trash can as they paused at their shoe lockers and traded their slippers for white tennis. He glanced at his cell phone screen and then checked the room. Girls and boys busied themselves tying shoe laces and buckling straps on their shoes all carrying on energetic conversations with their friends about weekend plans. The unspoken consensus: "Thank goodness it's Friday." For two and half days, the prospects were endless. Speaking of endless prospects with friends, where were his? "Have you seen Akari, Toshi, or Daisuke? They said they would meet us here at half-past, it's nearly a quarter-till."
As if on cue, the three boys emerged from the hallway, Daisuke and Toshi stuck in a spirited discussion about soccer, while Akari trailed a tad behind sharing a few last minute words with his sister. Astonishingly, Akari's hair stood straight up from the crown of his head, brushed to the middle in a faux hawk, each section of hair brought to a perfect point. Takeru's jaw dropped, while Ryuji doubled over with laughter, his finger pointed straight at the dark-haired youth standing in the doorway.
"Ryuji, stop that," Takeru replied in slight disbelief. "You're drawing even more attention to him by pointing like that." But Ryuji couldn't help himself. "Did you just do that?" Takeru asked as Akari waved to his sister, and she broke off to join the group of girls waiting for her by her locker. Takeru looked shocked because he knew for a fact that Akari's hair had not looked like that thirty minutes ago.
Akari grinned and gently ran his hand along his hairline, brushing imaginary hairs from his face, clearly proud of his handiwork. "Yeah, you like it?"
"Yeah, looks great," Ryuji squeaked, clutching his stomach. Akari's grin widened and he gave Ryuji a head bob of acknowledgement, completely ignoring the fact that his friend now leaned against his locker cackling like a hyena.
"What? Did you bring a bottle of gel to school with you?" Takeru asked again as Akari opened his shoe locker and pulled out bright yellow Converses.
"Nah, I leave a jar in my desk," the dark-haired youth replied, putting on his shoes.
Takeru just shook his head. "You never cease to amaze me," he deadpanned, wondering why exactly he'd decided to befriend such a crazy person. With everyone ready and Ryuji finally able to breathe again, the five boys left the building, and cut across the campus as they usually did to reach the front gate. They were just passing the swimming pool when a voice called out to stop them.
"Takeru!" The fivesome pivoted and saw Miyuki running toward them, her gorgeous brown curls bouncing with every step. Takeru set his jaw, and eased his hands into his pockets as he leaned back slightly, assuming a relaxed pose. He bent his knee slightly and balanced his shoe on its toes as he waited for her to catch up.
"Hey, you guys go on," he stated, "I'll catch up." And though it was clear that they wanted to stay, reluctantly, they continued in their way. In the past, every time something like this had happened, Takeru had returned with extra baggage in tow—Miyuki, and she had then proceeded to ruin any Guys' Night In plans they had had with requests like grabbing coffee and going to the movies to meet up with her girlfriends. While they didn't mind occasionally, tonight they wanted to celebrate their first Friday free of basketball practice in weeks. The usually accommodating Takeru would let her butt in without a second thought; they'd wanted to be there to remind him of their plans should he forget, but alas, what could they do?
"Takeru," Miyuki sighed, her hair falling about her shoulders, framing her face perfectly as she flashed a mega watt smile in his direction. "You didn't wait after school, so I assumed you had basketball practice, but Coach told me you don't. I thought we could hang out today, maybe go on a date this evening."
His stomach knotted, and a familiar tense feeling settled in his gut. His muscles preparing to cramp the instant things went south. "I can't, Miyuki," Takeru replied. "The guys and I have plans for tonight."
Miyuki went on, undeterred. "Well, that's all right," she beamed. "The guys won't mind. I join your little guys' nights all the time, and they didn't even care."
For once in their relationship, Takeru didn't budge. "No, I'm busy tonight, I'm sorry." He made as if he was going to turn around, but she stopped him with a hand on his wrist. She tried to pull his hand from his pocket, but he held it firm. Miyuki looked up at his expressionless face, confused. Something was different.
"Takeru, what's wrong?" But he didn't reply, he merely looked over his shoulder to see how far his friends were getting ahead of him. Being the good people they were, they'd headed to the other end of the swimming pool and waited for him by a clump of trees, while still giving him plenty of privacy for his chat with the brunette. "Takeru, why won't you talk to me? I'm your girlfriend," she pried, resting her hand on his chest and reaching up to turn his face around so that she could kiss him.
"Are you?" he asked. His head whipped around so fast to face her, she faltered, and in that split second, she caught a look in his eyes that made her freeze. His eyes were intense, searching, but distant with a certain degree of frigidity in them.
She was taken aback, but tried to regain her composure by brushing off his concentrated gaze with a laugh, as sweet and bubbly as champagne. "Of course, I am, silly." She pulled him down and kissed him on the lips, but found herself further perplexed when he did not return the show of affection.
"Really?" he asked when she pulled away. His hands were still in his pockets, his leg still propped up on the toe of his shoe. The only difference was that now he leaned over slightly from where she pulled him down to kiss him. Beyond puzzled now, Miyuki opened her mouth to answer the question. She was so flustered she didn't even realize it had been rhetorical.
"Yes," she repeated, emphatically.
"You haven't been acting like it," the blond replied. The brunette felt as if she'd just been struck across the face. She gasped and sputtered, trying to comprehend from where these feelings might have been originating. "When did this relationship become so one-sided? I give and you take?"
"Takeru, what are you talking about?"
"You barge in on my plans with my friends, you have no regard for my schedule or my interests, and you take my affections completely for granted. No matter what happens, you assume that I'll be the one to apologize because it's clearly my fault, but it's not. In the five months we've been together, you have never once expressed heartfelt appreciation for anything I've done for you. Not for the amount of money I've shelled out for clothes and food and concerts, not for the time I've taken out of other activities to spend with you, and not for the way I bend over backwards to make sure you're happy. And you've never apologized either. Do you realize that I failed Tuesday's math test because of you?"
"What?" Miyuki gasped, weakly. All this animosity. Where had it come from?
"I failed the math test, Miyuki. I might not pass the class. That test accounted for a sizable chunk of my average, and I failed it because I wasn't able to study Monday night. Do you even realize all the sacrifices I've made for you?"
"But you never told me about your test!"
Monday? Monday… Monday… And then it clicked. "Is this about last week? When we got into a fight about that movie? I'm sorry I made it so hard for you to apologize. I know I blew it completely out of proportion, I'm so sorry. I'll make it up to you—"
"I don't want an apology, Miyuki. It's too late for that. It won't change anything," he replied evenly, staring at her. Those blue eyes she'd formerly found so warm and inviting were now cold, clearly shutting her out. He straightened.
"Then what do you want? What are you sayin—"
"I don't think we should see each other anymore." Miyuki almost doubled over. She felt as though he'd just landed a good sucker punch in her gut.
"What?" she rasped.
"I think we should break up, Miyuki," he repeated again, just as coldly. Even the second time around, she still couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth.
"But you never told me about your test!" she cried out, grasping at straws. Tears sprung to her eyes as she continued, "We could have worked something out with the teacher, she's perfectly reasonable. I could have helped you. You could have looked off my paper on Tuesday!"
"This isn't about the test, Miyuki."
"Then what is it about?" she half-yelled, half-sobbed. "Tell me, Takeru, what is this about?"
"This is about the side of you I always knew you had, but chose to ignore. Honestly, I don't know how I overlooked it this long, I wonder what that says about me, but I cannot condone the way you treat certain people. As if they're less than dirt, for no reason other than the fact that you can. You completely disregard the fact that they're humans with feelings just like you and me." He shook his head incredulously, as if he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it earlier. "I don't want to be around that anymore." He paused, letting her take it all in. He watched her a moment, but she didn't say anything and she didn't move. He assumed that meant she was okay with it and turned to head towards his friends. "I'm sorry."
He resisted the urge to smile. He didn't feel that stormy raincloud of doubt hanging over his head, and his stomach had unknotted itself and remained cramp free. He felt light on his feet. He grinned as he approached is friends who stared at him quizzically. "Ready to go? I'm ready to kick some ass in tennis."
Toshi snorted as he hiked his pack over his shoulder and the group continued towards the front gate. "Dream on, Takaishi. You're going down. And when I win, you and your toilet bowl are gonna get very well-acquainted while I wash that cocky attitude of yours down the drain." Despite the threat, Takeru laughed. Not because Toshi was getting far too into a game they hadn't even started yet, or because Ryuji was now poking fun at their dark-haired friend about his affinity for toilet bowl threats, but because for the first time in over a week, Takeru felt as though he'd finally done something right. He glanced at Akari. Judging from the small smile on Akari's lips and the slight nod of his head, he'd say his spiky-haired friend agreed.
The next morning, Takeru awoke to a pleasant surprise. His mother. In the kitchen. Cooking breakfast. The blond boy stood in the living room, his jaw flapping in the wind. Blearily, he screwed his eyes shut, rubbed them a few times, and then reopened them. His mother was still standing at the stove. Natsuko laughed.
"Okay, okay, I get it, son. I know I'm not home that often. Good morning to you too," she replied, pausing to take a sip from her coffee. "You look like you've just been struck by lightning," she added, referring to his bed head, which proudly pointed in every which direction.
"Eh?" Takeru blushed, looking up as if he could see the messy hair himself. He shook his head and ran a hand through it before entering the kitchen cautiously. "Oh no, that's not it. I just wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you were working on that big story about mob involvement with the previous election," he replied, grabbing at stool at the island counter.
"I am," she replied, simply. She lifted the pan and tipped several sausages onto a plate already half filled with eggs and a stack of pancakes. She placed the meal in front of him. "But there are no more leads, and right now I think I need to sort through the information I have," she continued, retrieving a glass from the cabinet and putting it on the counter as well. She poured him a cup of orange juice and slid the glass over to him. She grabbed her coffee cup and leaned on the island, watching her son as she tipped the steaming liquid into her mouth. She smacked her lips slightly before licking them to remove any lingering drops of coffee. "I may already have what I need to write the story," she finished.
"That's great, mom," Takeru replied, picking up a knife and fork and looking between the food and his mom in wonder. "So you think you'll be home more often now?"
Natsuko laughed again. "I hope so, baby. I hope so."
Good enough for him! He attacked his food mercilessly, shoveling it into his mouth as if he feared the plate would be snatched from him at any moment. He didn't stop until nothing but crumbs and syrup remained. Natsuko smiled as she lifted the plate and rinsed it off in the sink. "It's good to know my son still has his appetite."
Takeru returned the display of affection. "Yep. Don't think I could lose it if I tried." He slid off the seat and headed towards his room. "Anyway, thanks for breakfast, mom. I wish I could stay, but I've got to go meet a classmate to work on a school project. And then I might go to Yamato's house."
"Yamato? Are you two talking again?"
Takeru winced, thinking about the groveling he had planned for the afternoon. "Yeah, kind of," he said. Once in his room, he shed his pajama bottoms in favor of jeans, a tank, and a sleeveless zipper hoodie, grabbed his school bag, and left the apartment after kissing his mother goodbye. He stopped on the way to grab a cup of coffee (after making sure his not-so-secret admirer was nowhere in sight) and headed to the park, arriving with moments to spare before the arranged meeting time.
"You just missed him," Ms. Takaishi had told her when she'd knocked on Takeru's front door ten minutes previous. "He went to the park to meet a friend." In the five months she'd dated Takeru, she could count the number of times she'd seen his mother on one hand. For the second time in two days, Miyuki, who never stuttered or lost track of her thoughts for any other reason than a shoe sale at the mall, faltered, thrown off by the blonde woman standing where she'd been expecting her boyfriend. Sure he'd insisted an "ex" should be thrown in front of that title when she'd called him last night, but clearly he hadn't been feeling well. A minor 24-hour bug that should have passed by now, meaning he'd be talking sense again.
Still, she'd charmed his mother as much as she could in the limited time she had to spare and then dashed off to meet him. She'd been up since the crack of dawn, planning what she was going to wear and say, fixing her hair and makeup, making sure everything was absolutely perfect. There was no way anyone could turn her down when she looked this good. She nodded, renewed confidence flooding through her veins.
She found him sitting on a bench drinking coffee, reading a book of poetry. She sighed, inwardly. That was so like him; to appear so studious and intelligent while reading poems under the shaded protection of a weathered tree. The soul of a writer, she concluded, allowing her hand to rest on her heart a moment longer before she approached. "Takeru," she called.
He lowered the book and turned. "Miyu," he gasped, standing. "What are you doing here?"
"Nothing, I just thought we could talk. Clearly you weren't feeling well yesterday—" she began, but Takeru cut her off.
"There's nothing to talk about, Miyuki. It's just as I told you on the phone last night. We're over."
"But how can you say that?" the brunette asked, stepping closer and grasping his tee shirt with her small hands. Her heart pounded in her chest as her eyes began to water. "We were doing so well together, and then, all of the sudden, completely out of the blue, you want to end it. What's really going on here, Takeru?"
"There's nothing going—"
"Please tell me, Takeru," she begged, clutching his shirt tighter. "Because I don't understand. I thought we were perfect together." She began to cry, tears cascading down her cheeks like a broken waterfall.
"I thought so too. But we all make mistakes, Miyuki." He felt terrible. He hadn't expected her to cling to their relationship so hard, yet despite the tears twisting his stomach into knots again, he remained sure he'd made the right decision. Still, he wondered if perhaps he was being a bit too cruel. "We just aren't as well suited as we thought we were," he added, hoping to cushion the blow.
But it didn't work. "Mistake? You think we were a mistake?"
Before he could answer, another voice sliced through their conversation. "Sorry, I'm late!" it called. They paused and glanced in the direction of the new arrival. Hikari jogged towards them. A soft, bitter laugh brought Takeru's attention back to the situation at hand.
"I get it," she said, softly. "I see what this is about. This is about Hikari, isn't it?"
"What? Miyu, no."
Miyuki wasn't listening. She laughed again, angrily this time, taking measured, deep breaths and wagging her finger into space, as if she were chastising a mischievous little kid. "This is about that damn slut, Hikari."
Takeru grabbed her shoulders and spun the brunette around to face him, shaking her softly. "Miyuki, leave her out of this. This is about you and me. No one else." She nodded like she understood, but he had the sinking feeling that she did not.
"I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Hikari asked, stopping several feet away, ready to back away if necessary. At the sound of her voice, Miyuki's head snapped around to face her. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at her with such ferocity, Hikari half believed the skin was about to melt off her face. Without a word, Miyuki yanked herself from Takeru's grasp and stormed from the park the way she'd come. She didn't look back.
Hikari bit her lip and sighed. "Why do I suddenly get the feeling that my life's about to become a million times worse?"
Takeru groaned, miserably, "I'm sorry."
o-o-o-o-o
Thanks to cancercute, TheSlyFoxofPeanutButterness, joeshen, penguindan333, magical miracle, KHgatomon3444, The True One-Winged Angel, authorgal282, Personnh, LoneWolfVampire13, Kari King Takaishi, Catching Rain, musiclover9419, Pebbles, Final Genesis, Aster Selene, twiinklestar, butterflyangellover14, Shire Folk, and Takerus Lost Angel. You guys are awesome.
joeshen: Yes, the hustle and bustle of life and I are well acquainted. And yeah, I understand what you mean about the introduction of Fumi. When I planned that chapter out a year ago, I had a specific idea in mind, but unfortunately, I didn't write it down and forgot it. As for TK and Miyuki, thank you so much for that amazing compliment. For the reader to be able to picture the scene has always been my goal, but I worry I usually fail spectacularly at achieving it. That you could picture it totally makes my day.
I apologize for the end of the previous chapter. It was plagued with spelling errors and whatnot. I reread the previous chapter in preparation for this one and was completely appalled. It's probably safe to say that both reasons had a little something to do with it too.
Shire Folk: Yeah, I know what you mean about Miyuki and Miyako. I didn't really pay much attention in the first chapter, but as you've probably since, I've mixed up their names in the chapters as well, sometimes, which is really bad. Maybe I'll just start referring to Miyako as Yolei. And I also understand your drift about the makeout scene. It was definitely heading in that direction, but that was intentional, and I'm hoping, as the story goes on, its purpose will become clearer. If not, I've failed. Haha, but what else is new?
twiinklestar: -joins twiinklestar in the background with a Team Akari t-shirt- WHOO! I SO AGREE! –tries to do a toe touch and fails miserably- As for Yamato, you'll just have to wait and see~ And the musical will be in here too… if I can ever decide what musical they'll be doing.
Aster Selene:I have no idea. We'll just pretend it works. ;]
Pebbles: Oh my goodness, your review made me laugh so hard! But it's been so long. D: I hope you aren't still in jail if your plans went a little too well. What happened? Did you get the chance to do your little scenarios? I'm hooked! Tell me, tell me, tell me! And I definitely agree with you on the boy/girlfriend thing. That's how I think relationships should work. If I ever have time for a boyfriend, I hope I can say the same thing about mine that you said about yours. (Side note: This is the longest, comprehensive review I've ever read. Joeshen came in a close second.)
Kari King Takaishi: I'm sorry. I totally failed on the update faster thing. I'm setting a goal: two weeks from the time I return from Italy. Hope I succeed!
LoneWolfVampire13: I agree. Takeru should grow a pair. As for the cramps, it's something to that effect.
Personnh: Bah, I'm so sorry you thought the chapter was weaker. I hope this one's better. I probably was distracted a bit, but who knows? It was four months ago. Though, now that I think about it, I started cutting a bunch of stuff out in the middle because the chapter was getting to long and I didn't want to split it again. Maybe that's why? In any case, I hope this one is better.
Preview of chapter 8: Miyuki's sister Natsue steps in to keep Miyuki from completely self-destructing. Hikari and Miyako make the acquaintance of Ken Ichijouji, and learn the location of Takeru's place of employment, much to his dismay.
Look forward to it!