~Natsu~

A/N: Well…I've been nursing this idea for a while now, and I finally decided to write it. It's a Taito (ooh, adventurous!) and it's set here. In England. I've been wanting to write something set in London for aaaages and this seemed like the perfect fic, especially when I remembered Heather Nova's song 'London Rain'. Ahywho…I did have a whole load of clever, interesting things to say but I seem to have suddenly forgotten them. YAOI/SLASH/Whatever the hell else you want to call it. If you don't like it, do yourself a favour and don't read the bloody fic, okay? Um…It follows my first Taito fic 'Turning', but you don't need to read that to understand any of this. It's pretty straight forward. I'm not an expert on drugs (alcohol I have no problem with on the other hand…^^) so cut me some slack, alright? Oh…and if your name is Missy…I apologise in advance. No offence is intended. Ahem. Let me know if I should continue. Hope you like it!

Ants. That's what they are. Fucking sheep. Lemmings. Back and forth in scattering processions, all fol-low-ing the lea-der. Leader. Ha.

I hold the shot glass up to my eye and watch as the busy trails of Oxford Street shoppers blur and waver through the liquid's crystal clear contours. They don't know. They don't know at all. They think they understand? They don't. If only they could see themselves. Back and forth, back and forth…follow the leader. Keep following.

I don't want to look any more. I close my eyes in distaste, bringing the numbing glass rim to my lips and throwing my head back dramatically. I exhale sharply as the stiff liquor burns its spiteful way down my throat. For a moment my mind is clouded beyond competent thought. The ignorant shoppers, the unfamiliar surroundings, all my problems…gone. Meaningless. Bliss. Shame it doesn't last longer. My hand fumbles for the curtain chord and the heavy velvet drops into place shutting me off. Blocking out the infuriatingly chaotic streets, completely different and exactly the same as home. But of course they're still there. I can't see them but they're there. Still the same, still following…

The hotel room is ridiculously extravagant. Fluffy shag carpet, a bathroom the size of my old bedroom, expensive coffee-coloured wood and a huge double bed draped in folds of buttermilk silk. What good's a bed like that when you have no one to share it with? Am I supposed to be impressed? Is that the meaning of the extravagance? To impress the stuck-up foreign rock star who's worth all that money? Probably.

"Well I'm not," I whisper aloud, "I'm not impressed." All this is only pretty cloth and shiny things. Nothing I haven't seen before. Nothing impressive. I'm not impressed. They'll just have to try harder, won't they? Taking me home with a snap of their fingers; bringing Takeru here so that he can tell me it's all okay; undoing the last two years…now that would be impressive.

Takeru…I could call him. I could. There's the phone. The ridiculously extravagant phone on the ridiculously extravagant hotel table. I check my watch, which is still set to Tokyo time – my time. It's the middle of the night, I can't wake him, 'But it's an emergency,' a voice in my head pipes up, 'He won't mind.' I blink and snatch up the receiver, fingers hovering undecided over the printed numbers. An emergency? What emergency? What do I expect to say? "Hi TK, sorry to wake you but I'm feeling down. Make it better." Yeah…as if he could. He can't perform miracles. He's no more capable of helping me than the unimpressive hotel managers. He can't do any more than Kate the therapist could. Dr. Katherine 'Just call me Kate!' Granger. Dr. 'I can't help you if you don't help yourself, Yamato'. You think I haven't tried that, 'Kate'? You think that making things better on my own wasn't the first thing I tried? Nobody can help now. Takeru perhaps…but he's in Japan. Taichi indefinitely…but he's long gone.

Not that I can blame anyone but myself for that of course. I had him. He said 'I love you'. I was there, he was there…and now I'm all alone. Stupid Yamato. You're a fucking idiot aren't you? Stupid. No wonder you're stuck like this. What the hell else did you expect? Here…on your own…with only mindless, following sheep for company…aching to cry but too drugged up on anti-depressants to shed a tear. I bet everyone else saw it coming. Everyone but me. You're always the last to notice, aren't you Yamato? Always last…you don't want to know so you don't bother to notice. Real intelligent. God, I'm an idiot.

I slump into a chair and take a drag on a cigarette that has somehow found it's way between my lips. I have no recollection of lighting it. Where the hell did I find it anyway? I was looking all over the room for them this morning. I assumed that Yutaka must have confiscated them. He hates my smoking. Yutaka is my bodyguard. Bodyguard. Isn't that the funniest thing you ever heard? Yamato Ishida isn't allowed to leave his room without his bodyguard. God, I hate that. I hate it…it's like being fifteen again. You're old enough to understand what independence and freedom are, you know enough to know that you want them. And you're dying to spread your wings and fly on your own, but you can't because you're still trapped behind the unbreakable bars of the school system and the hulking bulk of your parents. It's like that all over again. I'm what…22 now? And I'm still stuck like this.

But that's not what I was saying. I was telling you about Yutaka. I hate having to have a bodyguard, but I don't hate him. He's like a big brother, which is kind of nice because I've never had a big brother, only been one. He's the only good thing about all this. Out of all the people I've met since I signed that fucking death warrant of a contract, he's the only one I really like. Well except for Leslie the beautician from New York. She's one of Mimi's American friends apparently ("Are you, tellin' me that you know my girl Mimi?! Well. Small world, huh?"). She's sweet. But I like Yutaka…probably because he reminds me of Taichi. I chuckle. Taichi would smash my face in he knew I'd started smoking even after I promised him I never would. It's not like he's here to know though, is he? I exhale, feeling my tense muscles relax slightly as I follow the delicate misty coils with heavy, shadowed eyes. It tastes disgusting. The taste makes me choke. But the heady smell and the whispery patterns of the smoke trails remind me of home. Of my Dad. Of better times.

My manager doesn't care. Missy my manager. What kind of name is that for a manager anyway? Missy the manager. Missy the manager…like a Barbie doll. She looks like one too. "Hi! I'm Moody Manager Bitch Barbie! Would you like to brush my hair?" I swear there probably isn't a part of her body left that wouldn't melt if she stayed in direct sunlight for too long. Missy and I don't get on too good to say the least. I couldn't hate her more if I tried and she just sees me as a little worm that she has to restrain herself from stepping on because without me she wouldn't be earning the unbelievable amount that she does. But then, I suppose, if I was stepped on then I wouldn't be here would I? I'd just be a smudge on the sidewalk…getting trampled all over by the sheep. Following their fucking leader…

I swear and jump to my feet as ash drops from the glowing cigarette and lands on my knee. Jesus…the whole world is against me, isn't it? Damn…now the thing's burnt to the stub. What the fuck did I do with the packet? I glance around in a half-hearted search, trying to ignore the sudden and inescapable tightness in my chest. Just keep it where it is. It has no business bursting out…look for the fucking packet Yamato. Just find your cigarettes and it'll all be okay. Only…it won't. It won't be okay and I know it. They aren't going to do anything but make my hair stink. Fuck, what have I done to myself? Look at me…just look…

God, I can't do this anymore! I want…I want…I don't even know what I want! I can't breathe…I can't…I feel like I have to cry…not cry a few tears, but throw my head back and scream, to just get this out of me…somehow…anyhow…is that even a real word?! I choke on my laughter, my throat seeming to close around the sound, seizing it and holding it there, keeping it inside…keeping everything inside. My breath is coming in throaty rasps; my face twisted with emotion…what is this? A panic attack? Anxiety attack? Heart attack? Heart attack…God, I hope it's that one. It's over. I can't do this anymore…but it doesn't matter, I won't have to. And it won't be suicide either. I can see tomorrow's headlines now. It could be over…if it's…shit, it's stopped. It's stopped! It can't do that! I'm dying of a heart attack, dammit!

I'm on my knees on the floor now, my fingers clutching at the thick shag, nails biting through the creamy strands. And my eyes are wet, my cheeks damp. With…what? Tears? Sweat? Both? I don't care…I don't know what I want…

Well that's a lie, isn't it? I know exactly what I want. I want to go home. I want Taichi. I want my brother. I want my Dad. I want…my life. I want my life back. Was that there in the fine print or something? Did I miss it? 'By the signing of this contract you agree to relinquish your life and all connections and turn yourself over completely to the less-than-capable hands of your designated bimbo bitch of a manager' Did the rest of the band have to sign themselves over too? Or is it just me? Who cares. Who really gives a fuck? I've got to get out of here. I've got to do something…

Before I know quite what I'm doing, my hands are in my suitcase, shoving aside shirts and underwear. I never unpack. Pointless. You leave as soon as you get somewhere. Easier to just keep everything in the case. My hand seeks out and grips one of the pill bottles. Not the aspirin. Not the stuff to make me sleep. Not the anti-depressants with a name I can hardly pronounce…the other one. The one that should never have made it through customs. I wish it hadn't. I think I wanted to be caught. It would have been another easy way out, wouldn't it? Yeah…I'm sure I would have been too if it hadn't been for all the fans and the screaming and pushing. The poor guys would have been lucky to notice if I'd been carrying a neon glowing air rifle. I guess that's just the way it works though…probably another part of the fine print. I pull off the lid with a satisfying crack and tip a pill into my hand. It's perfect. Perfectly round and immaculately white with a smooth flawless surface…perfect. I feel a thrill of relief and anticipation just holding it here in my hand. This is it. This tiny little fusion of medicine and miscellaneous toxins. This is the answer. Perhaps not a permanent one, but it'll see me through until morning. And then something else will come up to get me through that day, and then the next and the next. It always does. And besides, there's always the chance that this tiny little thing will kill me. Or if it doesn't, I might overdose myself. I'll be the next River Phoenix. God, how exciting! And everyone will come to my funeral and say what a waste it was. Missy and the band will look sad and pretend to care, Yutaka and Leslie will look sad and actually care. And my family will cry and TK…God, TK.

That's the other thing. That's the reason my brains aren't already splattered on the sidewalk out there. I spoke to him…about a month ago (has it really been that long?) and he could obviously tell that something wasn't right. Just before we hung up, he said to me, "However bad it seems 'niichan…don't do it. It's not worth it…I'd miss you too much. Remember that when you're too stubborn to listen to anything else. Okay? Speak to you soon. Bye." Yes, Takeru…okay. I wouldn't want to leave him. At least without saying goodbye. And I suppose there's always the chance that Tai will…fuck, I've been dancing around this all afternoon haven't I? And I guess you all want to know…not that it's actually that interesting. But I'll tell you. I'll tell you, then I'll get stoned, fall asleep and it won't matter anymore.

Three months. That's how long it lasted. The eternal, idyllically romantic relationship that lasted three months. Three fucking months. That's nothing. Of course, it's probably the longest relationship I've ever had, but then I've never really been one for relationships. It was about two years ago now. Two years…that's how long it's been since I've seen him. I miss him so much. Even if I did end our romantic relationship, he's still my best friend and I still need him to keep going. I can hang on, but not forever. It's like someone's snatched away one of my lungs and left me to deal. It's hard.

Anyway…two years ago. We were roommates in university. And this one night he came home early from a date having called her 'Yamato' – I think that's just about the funniest thing I've ever heard – and he talked me into getting pissed just as we always did. That's what we'd do whenever the world got too much. Sit in front of the TV, get drunk and talk about everything. I miss our 'chats under the influence'. You could always speak more truthfully, more openly when you were pissed. I thought my girlfriend was cheating on me, turns out she was, and so we were both a little down and you know how one thing leads to another…

Oh come on, I don't need to explain that now, do I?! You know as well as I do what happened. But…okay, fine…we fucked. We fucked each other's brains out. Does that make it clear enough? He told me he loved me and the next morning I told him the same. It was probably stupid. I mean, sure we'd been drinking, but by that time we were both sober enough to know exactly what we were doing. It wasn't a mistake though. I thought it might be at the time, but it wasn't. It was the most right decision I've ever made, those three little words. I meant it. I really did. I expect he thinks I didn't. That he was just a cheap drunken fuck, nothing more. You weren't Taichi…I meant it…

You meant it? You meant it?! Well you did a fucking good job of showing it then, didn't you Yamato? Walking out on him…nice one. Great move. Just another blinding flash of intelligence. Idiot.

Afterwards, we had three months together. Inseparable, joined at the hip, doing all that couple-y stuff that you do when you fall in love for the first time. It was wonderful…the best three months of my life. I haven't felt that happy for two years now. The two years we've been apart. That's what I loved him for. You couldn't be depressed around Taichi. He could always cheer you up and make it better, no matter how bad things got. He'd talk to you and laugh and his eyes would glow with sunshine, even on a cloudy day. That's why I need him now. I need him so bad…

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you, so don't take my sunshine away…

Funny how old songs always stay with you like that, isn't it? So much more lasting than the new stuff. And I'm part of the new stuff. But…people will never remember my music in the way that they remember the Beatles or Cher now, will they? I shake my head…what a pointless thought that was. Perhaps I don't need this fucking pill to be stoned.

When Missy came to one of our gigs ('talent spotting, darhhling!') and offered us a recording contract, naturally I jumped at the chance. My break! I'd finally got the big break that everyone dies for. But…it meant dropping out of university, travelling to New York that weekend and then 'seeing where it takes us', direct Missy quote. Taichi understood of course. I know he didn't want me to go, but he was happy for me and made a real effort to be as helpful as he could possibly be. It all just went down hill after that. I hardly had time to visit my family, let alone maintain a lasting relationship. I should just have said no. Not that Missy has ever taken no for an answer in her life, but hey, it might have worked. I could have made a non violent protest against it. Like all the Eco-warriors who chain themselves to trees and stuff. Yeah. I should have handcuffed myself to Tai (only tried really hard to remember where I put the key. Unlike last time…) and sung 'Kum By Yah' repeatedly until they all ran away screaming with their hands over their ears. God that song really gets stuck in your head, doesn't it? Shit, now I'm going to be singing it all night.

So…that was it. I went, he stayed. We tried to keep in touch, but it's hard when your manager keeps springing interviews and photo shoots on you with no more than a few hours notice. I never know quite where I'm going to be from week to week. Missy never bothers to tell me until it's too late. Evil bitch. She does it on purpose, I swear.

He completed his course in BA Management Studies at University and was working for some firm in Tokyo not long after I left. The last I heard from him wasn't even from him. It was a message given to me via TK. His company had offered him a transfer here, to London and he'd accepted. His English is good and he's got a natural flair for bossing people about, I suppose that's why he was picked. But that's all I know.

It's the weirdest thing. How we just suddenly got cut off from each other like that. Like a piece of string being cut in half. We went from being lovers to being as good as strangers in a matter of weeks. I sigh self-pityingly. If only I could just talk to him for a little while. I'm sure he'd have some amazingly perfect solution, so simple that I could never have hoped to see it. I don't have his number, though. Takeru gave me his address but in yet another blinding flash of intelligence (I seem to be so full of them. What did they teach me in school?) I didn't bother to ask for the number. How pointless was that? Which is more likely, me calling him or me turning up on his doorstep halfway across the world? What, did TK have some weird notion that I was suddenly really into letter writing or something? Did I accidentally say that in an interview? Probably. It's so weird, whenever I'm being interviewed by some smiley journalist or preppy presenter I get this insurmountable urge to lie. I don't know why. I just say kind of…random things for no reason. 'Just call me Kate!' says that it is a subconscious desire to protect myself and to prevent anyone from finding out too much about me. Huh.

What the hell was I talking about again? Letters. No, why would I be talking about letters? Argh. Get it together Yamato. Okay…Tai. Addresses…phone numbers…I wish I could call him. I wish I…

London. Jesus…London! I'm in London, aren't I? I'm not just so screwed in the head now that I got moved to Timbuktu without noticing am I? Not bloody likely. Not yet anyway. So, I'm in London, Tai's in London…

Would it be imposing? Well obviously it would be, but I'm sure he wouldn't care. That's it, yes! Tai will help me. I'll stay with him for a couple of days – just as friends of course – and he'll be able to make things better! I feel an irrational surge of happiness and I jump to my feet so fast that I have to grab the bed to keep from falling over. It's all solved! Everything's solved. It'll all be okay!

I've lost the pill. It's been absorbed into the ridiculously thick shag carpet, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because I've got a whole fucking bottle in my case and (how many times have I used the word 'fucking' tonight? I think it's becoming my favourite word…) I won't need them anymore anyway. Now. Getting out. This is going to be like breaking out of a maximum security prison. Or an insane asylum. That sounds more realistic. I lift the corner of the curtain and it's dark out. When did that happen? Did I pass out? Is that where the pill went? Shit, if it's dark then Missy will probably turn up soon. She always comes in the evening to ramble about crap that I don't care about. I never listen. In fact…that's probably why I never have a clue what I'm supposed to be doing from one day to the next. I close my suitcase, still lying dishevelled on the floor, and cross the room, feeling like I'm in Mission Impossible, and open the door. I peer round the doorframe and scan the corridor outside.

"Yutaka?" I whisper, which is pointless because there's nobody around to hear.

"Yeah?" He grunts from behind me, making me jump. His voice is so damn scary.

"I'm leaving." I say in the same hushed voice, that I have no idea why I'm using. He simply raises an eyebrow. "I've just…I've really got to get out of here." I might be an insane drug addict but I'm not stupid. There's no way I'm going wandering around out there on my own. If anyone recognised me I'd be completely screwed.

"What do you need?" He says gruffly, obviously assuming that I want more cigarettes or something.

"I need to get out!" I say a bit too loudly and then lower my voice again. "It's…you know I'm not doing so good and…I've got this…friend…who lives around here and I thought it'd do me good to go visit him for a while. Just to, I don't know, get away from everything." He looks at me with that sceptical 'I know you're a druggie and you're not making sense again' look that seems to be becoming more and more frequent these days.

"Yamato…" He starts, in a tone that reminds me painfully of my father.

"Please!" I hiss desperately. "If I have to go through another day of smiling idiotically and pretending to care then I am going to blow my fucking brains out tomorrow!" I scowl "Right after I kill Missy." There's the barest trace of a smile on his face "You wouldn't want me to do that now, would you?" I ask sweetly and he snorts.

"I don't know…if it meant not having to listen to that whiny bitch anymore…" Fuck, this is backfiring. Now he's trying to get me off the subject and into anti-Missy-rant mode.

"Yutaka, c'mon please! I'm serious. Either help me or I'm going alone." I say, knowing perfectly well that if he doesn't want me to leave, then I am not getting through this door. You should see how BIG this guy is…

He sighs and glances over his shoulder. "Yamato, just go have a lie down or something, eh?" He starts in pacifying tones, "You'll feel better if you…"

"No! No, I won't!" I yell and he frowns like a parent dealing with teenager that is constantly causing them grief "I won't feel better! Yutaka, don't you get it? I need help! Kate used to pour all that 'the first step on the way to healing is admitting that you have a problem' shit down my throat and now here I am, admitting it. My life is fucked! Now help me. Please…you have to…I…" I feel like I'm going to cry all of a sudden. Which is out of the question because I can't even remember the last time someone saw me cry. He's noticed and is still frowning paternally at me.

"Yamato," He starts again, but this time he sounds sympathetic, pitying, "Now, look…" I don't want his pity. I don't want anyone's pity.

"Fine." I cut him of sharply, swallowing hard. "I'll have a lie down. But when Missy comes, I'm not talking to her." I make to close the door. "Oh, and just so you know," I add "I've got enough drugs in here to overdose myself ten times over. Don't try to hard to wake me in the morning, will you?" and shut the door more forcefully than I needed to. I can hear his voice muttering my name in that disapproving 'don't be silly, let's talk about it' way that I can't stand. I sit on the bed and fold my arms across my chest, staring sulkily at my suitcase. Now what? Oh yeah. Lie down.

It can only have been about ten minutes when there's a knock at the door. I'm going to ignore it. I'll just sit here and pretend I can't hear. They're knocking again. Louder. Well I don't care. If it's Missy she can just go fuck herself because I am staying here in this room until…well, I'm not sure really, until I get bored and break my promise to TK, I suppose.

"Yamato?!" Yutaka's voice. He sounds kind of panicky…huh. He thinks he has problems. I move to let him in, simply for lack of anything better to do.

I nearly get punched in the face as I open the door.

"Oh, sorry," He says breathlessly, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. I hate when people look at me. Which is actually very funny considering my chosen profession. "You okay?"

"Yes." I say, wondering why he sounds so…suspicious…concerned…weird. "Why?" Look, I can sound suspicious too.

"I thought you might have…you know…" He mutters and then glares at me. "Answer your fucking door when people knock!" I glare back, unfazed, saying nothing. "Anyway…" He sighs and meets my eyes only to look away again, "I was thinking…if you want to see your friend then you should be able to and…yeah, Yamato, I'll help you," I smile "But don't say I never do anything for you!" He adds as I step aside letting him into the room. I've got the address on the piece of paper torn from my address book. He seizes the case as if it weighed nothing. "Let's go before Missy comes, eh? I'll cover for you once I get back." He steps out the door and strides off down the hall, leaving me to follow.

"Alright…" I say, knowing that Yutaka hates gratitude of any kind, "but I can carry my own case." I glance pointedly at the case swinging in his grasp.

"I know." He says, smiling fondly and making no move to stop carrying the suitcase or even slow his steps. I feel my eyebrows draw together and I turn my attention to walking, which generally becomes more difficult when you've been drinking.

Soon we're out of the extravagance and onto the lamp-lit street. I can feel cool, silky raindrops steadily brushing at my skin as walk with Yutaka in aimiable silence. Now I'm little more than one of the following sheep. I frown at the scrap of paper in my hand. I just hope I've got the leader's fucking address right.

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A/N: Ah…huh. Why do these things never work like they're supposed to? And why can I never get Matt's character right? Never mind. Review if you want me to continue. I actually…have no idea where this is going so ideas would be helpful. Should I write the next part from Tai's point of view? Should I write a next part at all? Help!