London Rain

Part Six

~Natsu~

A/N: I am so sorry that this has taken me so long. I hit the most enormous and scary writer's block. I just couldn't seem to pick up straight where the last chapter left off. So after trying twice (this is the third version of this chapter that I have written) to work my way around the block, I gave up and went the other direction (i.e. skipping forward a bit in time). So. Hope it works.

Plot-wise…this chapter is kind of a cop-out. I'm sorry but I really feel that if I don't end this fic NOW it will never get finished. But never fear! I have a sequel AND a prequel planned if people want them.

I'm normally very good about not bashing characters. But please excuse one teeny tiny little comment about Sora being boring. Oh what? I'm sorry, but she is.

Also, thank you to KT for your support and advice in that e-mail you sent (I really hope you got my reply…my email thingy is really temperamental. Mail me again if you never got a reply!!!), to anyone and everyone who reviewed and of course to Atsuko, as always. xxx

YIPPEE! THIS IS THE LAST PART!!! (thought I'd better get that off my chest)

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You know how there are some feelings that you just can't seem to hold in your mind for any length of time? And it doesn't matter how often you experience them they never stay with you for longer than they take to happen? That's how it is with me and performing. I've done it hundreds of times and I still can never recall the memory of the feelings it evokes. You'd think that perhaps by now I would know it well enough, might have got used to it, maybe even got bored of it. And I sometimes think I have. I bitch and moan and swear and kick things over having to go onstage when I'd rather be in bed, but the second those spotlights turn, smartly training themselves to my figure, I can never understand why in hell I would kick up such a fuss about something so incredible. A sudden hush blankets the collective voice of the audience as I step up to the microphone and there are those few intoxicating seconds where I'm in charge. At the centre of everyone's attention. There's nobody to start the performance but me and when I do it's as if this whole wave of people has been trained to mindlessly adore and admire, to shut out anything and everything other than the music. And if I choose not to start…well…the rest of them are fucked really, aren't they? Because what can the lighting guy or the audience or my manager do if I choose not to deliver? Not much. Especially now that I'm on my own. Solo. Sans band.

Who wouldn't thrill to that kind of power?

And it's not just a control freak getting his kicks. I'm not as shallow and stuck up as most people think I am. As Missy says I am (Missy who is so far up herself she's practically inside out). It isn't just about the admiration. It's about reaching people. Being given the opportunity to touch people you've never met along with the people that you see every day. It's so huge that I can't even explain it. Everybody who listens to my music and finds that it means something to them absorbs a little part of me into their being. If people remember my words, the chords of the guitar, they remember me, and surely being remembered is the greatest thing you can hope for in life.

I don't think that I could ever forfeit a performance once I was on stage. I might think about dropping it all, yelling 'No. Fuck it' and marching off without a backwards glance, but I don't think that I ever could. Now more than ever. For one thing, there would be no band members to get pissed and shout and feel victimised. I'd have to do that to myself and I really hate doing that. And then, of course, I'd let my manager down and I'd never want to do that again. Seriously. I'm not being sarcastic.

So how confused are you now? Perhaps I should stop being a bitch and just tell you what happened. Taichi always used to go insane when I'd tease him with little titbits of information and never let him have the whole story. Like when you tease a dog with their favourite toy, pretend to throw it and then hide it behind your back, so they go tearing down the yard in search of it and then panic before they realise it's still right where it started. So I'll quit pretending to throw the squeaky thing and explain to you why I am standing on stage, in the midst of those empty seconds, without the background comfort of the band. Why the audience are holding their breath with uncertain anticipation and why there is a manager waiting in the wings that I'd rather die than disappoint.

In fact…when I think about it, this is not so much exhilarating as it is terrifying. This isn't just the Concert feeling all over again; it's the First Concert feeling. The one where you're suddenly asking yourself what the fuck you were thinking, committing yourself to get up in front of all these people and bear your soul to them. Your very essence, your blood and sweat. What if they don't like me? What if they miss Sumi's vivacious drums? Tomo's soothing back-up? Koji's…well, yeah, nobody could actually miss Koji, but they could miss the others. People really hate change, right? I hate change, how can I expect my audience not to? Shit…which song am I starting with? Why am I here? Why am I bothering?

But as my mind turns against itself, my faithful fingers are already sliding into position and picking out the notes of the first chords. I'm starting before I quite realise what I'm doing. And once I've started, I'm always fine.

Those cameras were the last straw. There have been lots of 'last straws' in my life, but they were obviously fake, because the camera incident really was the last. I lost it in every sense of the word.

Forget the idea that I'd have got used to people with cameras. Because I haven't. My first instinct, which is to freeze like an animal in the face of the headlights, can normally be overridden. But with so many headlights, all bearing down on me from every angle I had to revert back to feral instincts and Taichi had to shift me bodily before he could slam the door shut. Then the next thing I feel compelled to do is punch the photographer in the face. We could scratch that one because Taichi was there, as someone normally is, preventing any bloodshed. See, that would be when, with other options not available, I would offer a breezy smile to the lens and wait patiently until it was kind enough to piss off out of my face. That was what was supposed to happen. But something in my brain must have just malfunctioned, or snapped, or fucking exploded, or something.

Snapped is probably most accurate, because you could practically hear it as something inside me just gave way, leaving me a sobbing, gasping wreck. Just like that night in the hotel room. It started with that feeling where I have to do something…where I get all panicky and nervy and start pacing and wringing my hands just because I have to be doing something to get rid of the rapidly mounting tension. That feeling that feels as if I have to get rid of something inside me…I have to exorcise it somehow before it bursts out on it's own, ripping me apart. There's not even any point in trying to keep it inside because it'll win and then it will be worse. I could feel my throat constricting and the tips of my fingers tingling. I was all ready to try to pace the feeling away but I saw Taichi looking at me strangely and that was it. I could almost hear the splintering screech of that something snapping.

It was as if my legs had suddenly been ripped from under me, sending me crashing to my knees overcome by a sudden bout of acute hysteria. Tears were burning their way from between my lashes, which were squeezed together as I fought for that lovely rhythm that we call breathing. The sound of Taichi's voice repeating my name dully registered along with the fact that he would have no idea what to do and would probably panic. He's like me in the fact that he doesn't know how to deal when faced with something that he can't control. Despite that, I remember him being there at my side, wrapping his arms around me nervously and making little soothing noises, obviously at a loss of what else to do. It was enough. I could breathe as much as I needed to, to start exorcising what needed to be exorcised.

"I don't want to have to do this anymore!" I heard myself say, slipping back into the passenger seat, watching myself start to pour everything out in a clumsy waterfall of words and emotion. "I don't want to not understand! I don't want to be on my own every night! I don't want people I've never met to know my favourite colour and my shoe size! I want to be able to go home and see my family for Christmas and I want to stay here with you! I should never have signed Missy's fucking, FUCKING contract! Tai, don't make me go back! Please…I don't want to go back."

Or something like that. Something equally pathetic and embarrassing and generally hysterical. Of course then I just reverted back to plain crying. Which is probably worse.

Looking out at this audience now, I don't think that there's a single one of them that could have dealt with me in a state like that. I don't even think that there's a single person in the world who would have dealt with it properly, TK and my parents included. But Taichi was able to, just as Taichi always can. He waited patiently for me to run out of steam before pulling back and hitting me, a good sturdy clout round the head, more intended to shake me to my senses than to injure.

"I…don't want to…" I'd hiccuped, just because it was the first response that had came out of my mouth. And you're expected to respond when someone smacks you for being an idiot.

"So don't," Taichi had replied in all seriousness.

"But I have to!" I'd wailed, tears threatening to spill again. Taichi had actually laughed at that. Probably laughing at how ridiculous I sounded. Or looked. Or…I don't know. Taichi laughs a lot when he should be doing other things. He'd drawn me back into his arms and said,

"Yamato…if something makes you this unhappy…it really isn't worth it."

It was then that I decided to leave the band.

My band…the thing that had been my heart and soul for so long, the thing that I had worked harder at than I've ever worked at anything, the thing that was important enough to me that I chose it over Tai. I don't why it took me so long to work out that it wasn't what I wanted at all.

I still feel bad about the decision. It was the right one to make, but just because it was the best thing for me, didn't mean that it was the best thing for everybody. I think I'll always miss Sumi and Tomo when I play, and I'll always remember them as the ones who braved Missy's wrath to bring me my guitar. As friends. I probably sound stupid speaking in the past tense like that, especially because we've promised to keep in touch…but life never works quite like you think it should. I'm not dismissing them as has-beens though, don't get me wrong…the past tense is more of a precaution than anything else. I know all too well that sometimes the people you love best are the ones you lose.

And of course, that means that the people you hate will be on your back until the day you die. Like Missy. Oh you may not see her but she's out there somewhere, watching, waiting. Missy was not a happy bunny when I managed to wriggle my way through the bars of her 'iron-clad' contract. Upon hearing of my predicament, Marie enlisted the help of her son, Sam-the-lawyer-from-Cambridge and he made short work of the contract. The look on her face when I announced this was the most fantastic thing I have ever seen. I would sell my guitar if it would get me a photo of it. Then of course there's Koji. If Missy doesn't get me, he will. It wasn't long after my dramatic little performance that we got a call from Sumi. Who was actually in tears. Sumi the invincible was sobbing her heart out down the phone. I would have been less surprised to hear Yutaka howling away.

"Oh God, I am…so SORRY! Yamato, honey, this is all our fault! I'm such a complete and TOTAL dipshit! I swear, if I had any idea that this was going to happen, I would have…dammit, why didn't I think to tie the bastard up before we tried something like- What? No, I'M talking to him."

This was all before she'd even said hello.

"Tomo piss off, I have to get this off my chest and if you think for one second that you can just-"

"Yamato?"

That was Tomo.

"Yeah, hi. What's…"

"…with Sumi?" he finished for me and I could picture him rolling his eyes as she snuffled and ranted in the background, "She's kind of upset about the whole camera thing."

"Why? What does it have to do with her?" Tomo sighed in a way that told me that he had had to explain this one too many times.

"You know when we came to bring you the guitar? Yeah, well Koji followed us and only fucking went and told Missy."

"I'm going to smash his stupid face right through the back of his stupid fucking head!" Sumi's voice suddenly blasted in my ear as she ripped the phone from Tomo's grasp. She's always had a problem about not being constantly in the limelight.

"He TOLD MISSY?" I remember asking in disbelief. Sure, we never got on (he was just jealous because I was the star and he wasn't, Sumi always said), but I never thought he'd just turn against us completely like that. I mean being in league with Missy…he might as well have sold his soul to Satan.

But I don't care. Because now I'm a solo artist, right smack in the middle of my first live SOLO performance and he is nothing. So there.

Anyway. That's where the cameras came from. I have no idea exactly what Missy and Koji are doing now, and to be honest, I don't actually give a shit. But as for Sumi and Tomo, I heard from Yutaka (It's still his job to be the big scary guy that fights off the fans) that they are working on some stuff together. That's cool. I'm glad that they've still got something to do…I'd hate to think that their musical careers were over just because I couldn't get my act together.

Another major development…I'm going to stop seeing Alice after three months of her crisp suits, shiny legs and laid-back approach to therapy. It's kind of sad…I'm really going to miss talking to her. In fact, I've actually been considering faking a relapse just so that she won't abandon me for some poor sod who actually needs it. She doesn't want to be dealing with real crazy people, right? I don't know why the thought of ending our sessions (why can't I say the word 'sessions' without laughing? What are we, Yamato, nine?) seems so upsetting to me. I guess I'm beginning to understand why people keep diaries. It gives you something to confide in. Alice was like a diary. With the added bonus of providing intelligent conversation.

But then who needs intelligent conversation when I've got Tai?

This is the funniest, most surreal thing you will ever hear. Okay, well perhaps not ever, but definitely today. It still seems like something out of a bad soap opera…but then I guess my whole life has seemed like a bad soap opera, so it's probably not really that surprising. After breaking Missy's contract and explaining to a thousand and one reporters at a press conference why I was leaving the band (a lie about needing 'space to grow and develop' that Marie made up for me. We decided that 'I'm too busy getting pissed, taking drugs and fucking boys to bother with a band' sounded a bit unsavoury), I obviously needed a new manager if I wanted to go solo. Which I did. And, see, Taichi had had just about enough of his job, which would have seemed deathly boring even by Sora Takenouchi's standards. And one night we came up with the perfect way to stay together even when I have to travel. So…

Please. I think that all of you are perfectly capable of putting two and two together and getting 95.

I'll admit, we had been drinking (like that's surprising) when we agreed to Marie's suggestion that Tai become my manager. I'm amazed at how well it's worked out. I thought that we'd be scratching each other's eyes out, spending so much time together, but it's just seemed to make us closer. It's like back in school when you have to work with someone you barely know on a really killer project. Once you've achieved what you have to, you find that you will always have something that can bring you together. Some common ground. As a pair, we're doing better than either of us could have done on our own.

Marie's taken to calling us 'Sonny and Cher'. I'm not even going to comment on which one I am. I keep trying to explain that they were a duet, not an artist/manager combo, but will she listen? Hell no.

So that's how it is. How it's all worked out. And how I'm standing here now, drawing my second First Concert to a close.

The crowd explodes with inspirational gratitude as I finish and lift my eyes from my instrument. A glance over my shoulder reveals Taichi waiting for me in the wings and cheering like he's at a soccer game. Shit? My life? You've got to be kidding me.

Having escaped the pull of the crowd, I step backstage, practically shaking with aftermath adrenaline, ready to collapse into loving arms. Taichi smiles his smile at me as stagehands bustle noisily around him, moving equipment, shouting orders and generally being noisy and bustling.

"You. Were. FANTASTIC! Fucking hell, I'm so proud of you!" Marie shrieks, coming at me from nowhere before I can reach Tai and enveloping me in a choking and enthusiastic hug. "Did you see the bloody size of that crowd? Jesus Christ, Yamato! You're a STAR!" She draws back slightly, her face alight with school-girlish excitement and fans her face with one red-nailed hand. "Oh dear…look at me, I'm all flustered! Where's a cup of tea when you need one, huh? Mercy, I can't believe I'm backstage…Hey you!" She yells suddenly at some poor roadie who happens to be passing within five feet of her, "Yeah, you! Watch where you're going! You're looking at a friend of the talent here! Don't see you wearing a VIP badge!"

"Marie, stop it! I'm sorry about her…" Taichi's apologising to the unfortunate guy, who's regarding Marie with barely contained terror.

"You've got to put these moochers in their place Taichi. Isn't that right Yamato?"

"Er…"

"Of course it is. See Taichi? Yamato knows."

"Right," Taichi smirks, while I, as usual, am still trying to keep track of the plot. "Marie, can you excuse us? Ask that guy with the ponytail, Derek, and he'll get you something to drink." I can't help but be amazed at how Taichi seems to know exactly what he's doing when he's barely been in the business three months. I never knew you could get drinks from the ponytail guy (called Derek? Since when?). I thought he was just there to…I don't know…have a ponytail.

"Ponytail, huh?" Marie asks suspiciously, glancing in his direction from behind wisps of red hair that have escaped the clutches of her hairpins.

"Yes Marie, don't panic. He's not a convict. He's very nice."

"Huh…well…only because I'm really thirsty…"

I watch as she trots away, looking down her nose at anyone who dares to come near her.

"Sorry, she's drunk on the excitement of being a VIP," Taichi's apologising again, as I start towards the dressing room, with him at my heels. "She's been like this all the way through…I thought I was going to have to call Yutaka to keep her from running onto the stage. I should have left her at home," he mutters with the air of a parent speaking of a tiresome child.

"It's okay…it's cool that she's so excited." I reply as I close the door behind us.

You really have to wonder who decorates these rooms. Everything in it seems to be the same shade of awful dusty pink. And the glowing light bulbs surrounding the mirror are almost too cliché for words. But at least it's something. And at least I don't have to share it with anyone.

"Yeuch…" Taichi vocalises my thoughts as he glances around the room.

"Yeah." I twist open a bottle of water that somebody has kindly left out for me and drink half of it in one go. "It's completely unacceptable," I say in my best prima donna

voice, "If you're going to be my manager, I'm afraid you're simply going to have to do better."

Taichi snorts. "Well I'm terribly sorry, your highness."

"So you should be."

There's a comfortable pause as Taichi sits down on the pink and redwood sofa and I down the rest of my water. Thirsty work, being a rock star.

"You were really great, you know." He says, and I can't help but be touched at the sincerity in his words.

"Could I have been anything less?" I reply flippantly.

"Seriously." He says, watching intently as I take a seat on the pink-cushioned ottoman opposite him.

"Well…thanks. You were great too. Stuff never ran this smoothly with Missy cracking the whip."

Tai laughs. "I guess I'm just a more competent whip-wielder."

"Guess you are."

"Ooh, hey! Look at that!" Taichi announces suddenly, obligatory compliments aside, and springs up, diving across the room to the far-side where there's a rail sporting colourful costumes encased in plastic and shelves supporting an impressive array of wigs.

"What do you think?" He asks, selecting one of the wigs, a huge, sculpted lump of white vaguely reminiscent of Marie Antoinette, and dumping it haphazardly on his head. I raise an eyebrow, getting to my feet. There's something about making a fool of yourself like this that is just so appealing when you're full of adrenaline and energy.

"It looks like there's a giant marshmallow growing on your head," I tell him plainly. He pouts, yanks the wig off and deposits it on the floor in the manner of a five-year old, leaving me to pick it up and return it to it's polystyrene head before he tramples it.

"What about this? It looks like your hair." I look up from rearranging the marshmallow wig to see him wearing a mass of honey-blonde ringlets.

"My hair doesn't look like that!"

"Sure it does…it's blonde isn't it?"

"It does not! That looks like Goldilocks!"

"So do you."

"Oh fuck off."

He grins, obviously satisfied with my sulky response and pulls the curls from his head.

"Oh my God, no look, this is the best one." His eyes light up as he throws the blonde wig in the vague direction of its shelf and seizes a rainbow Afro. I wince even though I KNEW he would pick that one. It's always the loudest, brightest, most cringe-worthy that Tai has to have.

"Oh yes." He arranges the wig carefully, peering sideways into the lighted mirror before turning round to face me. "Do I look cool or do I look cool?"

"You look ridiculous," I say, trying my hardest not to be amused by such childish behaviour and folding my arms across my chest. He grins wickedly at me.

"I think Mr. Ishida's just jealous because his hair pales in comparison."

"I think that the blood flow to Mr. Yagami's brain is being cut off by that thing," I reply as Tai peruses the remaining wigs.

"I reckon…this one!" Predictably, he takes one of the wigs from the shelf and puts it on my head before I can stop him. It's sleek and shoulder-length, made out of shiny silver metallic stuff.

"There! Don't you look lovely?" Tai says, stepping backwards to admire me. I scowl and he laughs.

"You could wear this in your next concert!"

"Or how about I don't?"

"Aww…" He sympathises sarcastically, reaching out to tuck stray strips of silver behind my ears, letting his hands trail down my face. I try not to look at the multicolour monstrosity he's wearing when he leans in to press his lips to mine and slip his arms around my waist. In fact, it's quite easy not to look at it when your eyes are closed. I might have forgotten about it completely had I not tried to put my arms around his neck and ended up practically up to the elbows in rainbow fuzz.

It isn't until we're back at his house (somewhere that I have quickly learnt to call 'home'), glowing with the success of the concert and curled up together on the sofa, that I realise how much I have to thank him for. And I would thank him too; if he weren't already asleep, his head in my lap still encased in the rainbow wig that he smuggled out under his coat. I can feel my eyelids drooping, and I allow them to close, lulled by Taichi's comforting warmth and the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. He probably knows anyway.

But I must remember tell him in the morning.

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I'm coming home to you
I'm alive, I'm a mess
I can't wait to get home to you
To get warm, warm and undressed
There've been changes beyond my dreams
Everybody wants me to sing
There've been changes beyond my grasp
Things I'm sinking in

So keep me in your bed all day
Nothing heals me like you do And when somebody knows you well
Well, there's no comfort like that
And when somebody needs you
Well, there's no drug like that So keep me in your bed all day
Nothing heals me like you do

And when I'm home, curled in your arms
And I'm safe again
I'll close my eyes and sleep
To the sound of London Rain So keep me in your bed all day
Nothing heals me like you do

Nothing falls like London Rain
Nothing heals me like you do
Nothing falls like London Rain
Nothing heals me like you do

~ Heather Nova, 'London Rain' (Nothing Heals Me Like You Do)

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A/N: Oh my God…it's actually finished. I can't believe it. Now I can start new projects. Oh wow! I have so many ideas! But I'm kind of sad that this is over now…oh no…

Hey, who wants a little sequel for Christmas? I really want to write a sappy Christmasy fic and I think I need something to help me 'find closure' (as Alice would probably say) on London Rain. Ooh! And I have the best idea for one too!

What do you think? Sequel?