Samson

*Edited up to Chapter 11 as of 3/6/13.

Warnings: Shonen-ai, foul language, lime, lemon.

Notes: Inspired by the song "Samson" by Regina Spektor. Following along with the lyrics will help the effect of the story (look at the chapter titles as it progresses). Also take note of when the point-of-view (POV) changes. Thoughts during dialogue are in italics. I will be using Japanese names as well as the canon universe of the Japanese originals of Digimon Adventure 01 and 02. I appreciate constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or "Samson" by Regina Spektor.

My Sweetest Downfall

He is graceful, yet he is like a bullet, sweeping past the opponent at an unmatchable speed in a whirlwind of strictly brown. It is impossible to pry my eyes away, for this certainly isn't unlike any other opportune moment that I have to gaze upon him, which, fortunately for me, is frequent. Even above him, many strides away, I can sense his charming confidence, for it radiates throughout the entire stadium. This is terrific for those who are supporting him and unpleasant for those who are not. The unmistakable mess of brown hair emerges from the blur, brown eyes focused on the target, brown skin like a quick flash in the blaring afternoon sun...

He shoots... He scores.

I hear a snap of a camera to my left as the soccer ball flies into the net, sailing behind the goalkeeper's futilely outstretched arm. It tucks itself into the goal neatly with a swishing sound. Hikari-san begins to cheer, "Yeah, onii-chan, that was awesome!"

The brown boy hears her, and he lifts his attention our way. And he smiles.

His smile is the epitome of satisfaction.

Everything about him is the epitome of my yearnings.

Perhaps that sounds a bit strange, coming from me. But there's more to me than what people know and see (or what they're able to see when they seize the rare chance to peer behind the back of my computer screen). There's a hidden part of me, and still, I've had trouble allowing it to reveal its face. I mean, it's always been there and I've always been aware of its existence, but I've just never really felt ready to confront it. Finally, I am.

But it hasn't been all that easy to execute.

Emotions are fickle things, which is exasperating for someone like myself who simply wants the clear-cut answers and explanations. I seek perfection, applicable theory, and, finally, answers. Therefore, my curiosity is overwhelming, grasping at every piece of information that could potentially benefit me, and so I inevitably let myself become entangled in these complicated spider webs. In this instance, there wasn't much choice, anyway. Keeping with the insect theme here (Tentomon would appreciate this), there hasn't been a remedy invented that cures the tickling feeling that people often call "butterflies."

I've changed a lot since that discussion with my parents at the convention center. I'll never forget it, either; then again, that's not something one would easily forget. I'll admit that before that conversation, when I secretly knew about my adoption, I felt like I had to be the perfect son for my parents. I mean, they adopted me after all. I only had to live up to their expectations.

Even though after that conversation I realized that being perfect isn't what they've wanted, I suppose that since I've lived the majority of my life that way, it's become instinct.

Which leads me back to my original point.

I don't believe that the quintessential "perfect son" holds a secret, burning desire for another male. I mean, I suppose I'm comfortable with it, seeing that the boy whom I desire is unquestionably a perfect match for me in my eyes. It's just my parents and everyone else...

I know they'd understand. They really would. They'd accept me and support me, they really, really would. But that instinct with which I grew up... I'm in its chokehold. And it's quite difficult to speak and think about forming words when in a chokehold.

So here I sit, my forearms on my knees, the brown boy's sister cheering to my left, my mouth closed shut and locked despite long-concealed words begging for release. While I have to put all of my focus on preventing myself from letting those words escape, my eyes never leave him. Even if I attempted such a thing, I wouldn't be able to break my gaze.

Yagami Taichi-san is captivating when he plays soccer...or when he's doing anything else, for that matter.