Let's Not Say Goodbye since you are still here.
Let's not speak of forgetting since we can remember.
Some say life is long.
Some say life is short.
But even forever has some place it needs to go.
Therefore, let's conquer time.
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His hand clenched into a fist.
It was a mistake. Of course it was. He couldn't do anything but make mistakes.
Staring at the red marks his nails made on his otherwise flawless skin, Ishida Yamato smiled bitterly.
Foolish. Everything in the world was foolish. How could he have actually let himself believe in perfection? How could he have so blindly trusted others not to ruin this one day in his life?
No. Not others. Just Tai.
Empty, he felt so empty. Even the anger had drained away.
Days of planning, of cleaning the apartment. So hard to find a block of free time between their busy schedules.
But he'd managed, made time for his best friend. He was going on tour with his band after all, probably wouldn't see Taichi for a year at the very least. They needed to say goodbye.
He'd invited the other boy over for lunch, been so careful with the food, wanted to remember this day. The last time he saw Taichi needed to be special so that the darkness and the loneliness between concerts wouldn't swallow him. The last time he saw Taichi needed to be perfect so that when dad never called and mom refused to care, so that when TK was too busy for him, he could remember warm brown eyes and feel wanted, cared for.
Yamato hadn't expected Taichi to be on time. Really, only a fool would expect to see that huge brown mass called hair on time. But was he a fool to actually expect Taichi to show up?
Two hours late. No phone call. Carefully prepared food gone cold.
Turning away from where he'd been standing to stare out the window, Yamato walked past the kitchen towards his bedroom. He paused by the table with its picture perfect image of a stone cold lunch, biting his lip angrily.
No. He wasn't going to call Taichi. He wasn't desperate for the other boy's company. He didn't need a best friend to always pick up the pieces when he shattered.
He could take care of himself.
Fragile, that's the word he's looking for. Yamato sat on his bed, wishing this feeling would disappear. He was ashamed of his weakness, ashamed of his self pity. Didn't he spend his entire life trying to destroy this need for others? Why was he so sensitive? Why did the tiniest things hurt him?
The divorce wasn't a tiny thing, though. Being ripped away from his brother like that...it had felt like dying. He just didn't want to hurt anymore. It used to be simple. Shove people away from you. No friends. No pain. Just emptiness.
Except he couldn't shove Taichi away. The other boy wormed his way through the ice and the walls and the shells. Taichi matched Yamato's own cold temper with fire. The beginning of their friendship was marked with bruises, curses, punches, and kicks. They bloody tried to kill each other. Yet Taichi never gave up like the others, like his parents. And gradually, with every blow to the walls he had put up, with every gentle caress of Taichi's fingers over his battered, bleeding heart, the emptiness faded.
It would never be gone. It would come back to haunt him from time to time, more often when he was depressed, but it would never be him again.
Things were changing. He was all grown up, finished with high school and all ready to face the world. Without his best friend. Really, Taichi must be tired of having to put up with him. The constant mood swings, the frigid personality, and that deadly temper. Yamato knew he wasn't an easy person to love.
Oh, but they wanted his body, his voice. He was just a prize they wanted to get their claws on. The "I love you Ishida Yamato"'s he heard every day were as worthless to him as dead mice on a platter. Yamato shuddered, remembering the lust in their eyes, knowing what they wanted to do with him. He was afraid of his fans sometimes. The music was the music. Ishida Yamato was Ishida Yamato. The boys and the girls chasing after him didn't know Yamato, didn't care about Yamato. They liked his songs, maybe, but Yamato was not his songs. The songs were part of him.
Taichi understood that, had always understood that. The other boy had seen through to the vulnerability underneath his mask and didn't use it. He could have twisted until Yamato broke. He could have left Yamato in a puddle of his own tears. He didn't.
But even Taichi could hurt him.
Yamato shook his head. He refused to feel betrayed, refused to feel helpless. He couldn't control what Taichi or anybody else did. He could only control what Ishida Yamato did. And what Ishida Yamato did was perfect. Always.
He picked up his beloved guitar, felt his hands slide into place, and the horrible, confusing feelings disappear. Slender fingers whispered over the strings. He had control. He had perfection.
Yamato closed his eyes and let the music flow from him to the instrument. He began to sing without words, using a firm "Oh" sound, the melody of his voice in counterpoint with the melody of his guitar. A duet improvised on the spot. This was heaven.
The phone rang, and he stopped singing. But he made no move to get up from the bed, and his fingers never stopped their delicate dance over the strings.
The answering machine beeped.
"Yama."
His hand stumbled, and several wrong notes filled the room. He kept going.
"I know you are there. Pick up the phone."
Hard to concentrate now. His throat felt dry.
"Don't be like this. I'm sorry about being so late and you have every right to be mad. But let me explain."
And still Yamato didn't pick up the phone.
"Yama?"
He could hear a sigh from the other end. There was a short pause, then a click as Taichi hung up.
He didn't say goodbye.
OOOOOO
Author's Note: I really could have finished this in one chapter, but isn't this just the perfect place to stop?
In case you haven't guessed, this interesting growth in new unfinished stories is because I'm stuck with Enemy and My Inferno.
Rubisco. Is. An. Enzyme.