Shadows and Tears

People act different ways.  Some people have a bright, fast moving way of acting, they're the ones that are always bouncing off the walls and yelling out the answers before the question as even asked.  Other people have a neutral, calm way of doing things, are never exuberant or sarcastic, and are nice, homely polite people.  Other people are dark and shadowy.  I'm not stating that they are evil or anything, darkness is just simply a factor of their character, of who they are.  They prefer to keep their opinions to themselves, and make things happen by manipulating other people rather than throwing themselves into the spotlight.  They work in the shadows, and are always alone.  I know.  I'm one of them. 

Daisuke's room matches my personality right now; it's dark, cold, with the emptiness echoing off the walls.  It reminds me of my empire's control room while I was the Kaiser; the feeling of infinite space that not screaming, tears, or even light could fill.  If not for the smell, I wouldn't even know that this was his room.  Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad smell, although the amount of unlaundered socks that were hastily stuffed in the closet and under the bed is staggering.  No, it's Daisuke's smell, the one that's uniquely him.  Of fresh cut grass from the soccer field, the crispness of newly washed air…and peanut butter.  But other than the smell, the features are completely obscured in the shadows and darkness.  It's like blanket caves that very small children make, with dark and compact security. 

Security that I don't feel.  Security I can't feel.  I'm not a very small child.  I'm not a child at all.

Of course there's a logical reason why I am standing by the window of Daisuke's room in the dark.   The rain that's battering at the glass is the cause of the power outage that's affecting this whole section of Odaiba.  The apartment is empty because Daisuke's family isn't, is never, here.  And it's quiet, because Daisuke is actually thinking.  Or trying to anyway.  That factor adds slightly to the tense silence in the room, though the percentile is too minuscule to be worth mentioning.

Despite the fact that we defeated Malamyotismon three years ago, the evil still remains in the Digiworld.  It's no longer the all-encompassing threat it used to be, but it still requires our attention.  I really don't mind, I feel that I can never completely heal the damage I did to the Digiworld as the Emperor.  I've gotten over the guilt to a certain degree…and, even if I don't deserve to be alive, to be here…I am here.  I am alive.  And as Daisuke has told so many times, he's going to hurt me if I ever try to make it otherwise.  However, the constant interruptions do cut significantly into the lives of the others, which is why Daisuke is prepared to go with this insane scheme of his. 

Miyako found what could possibly be the main base of the new antagonists, and even if it's not, is still worth invading.  Daisuke asked me over to help him come up with a plan, which, I'm not.  I feel a little guilty, childish and helpless.  It's not the planning; I can honestly say I am a genius with tactics, even if I no longer retain the effects dark spore.  No, it's because my family, family, is coming from up the country, and my parents want me there tomorrow to greet them instead of fighting side by side with Daisuke.  Their desires pale next to my obligations, but I also feel a certain amount of guilt for the pain I've caused them, both intentionally and not.  They will not take no for an answer, nor will Daisuke.  Stubborn Daisuke.  Stupid Daisuke.  Impatient Daisuke who lacks the necessary fortitude to wait two days before rushing headlong into danger without me and run the risk of being seriously hurt without me to help him.  Thus the childish If-I-Can't-Go-You're-Not-Either attitude that I am currently sporting.

Of course, he thinks that I don't trust him, and he's not entirely wrong.  He's a tough customer, my worthy adversary is.  Volatile at times, brave and confident beyond question, and with tenacity that puts the most sullen rocks to shame.  I don't doubt his abilities, I never have.  The only thing I doubt is his control, his judgment of risks and gains.  I sometimes entertain the concept that he has a death wish, but I can't believe it. 

He loves life too much.

Three weeks ago we battled an evil Digimon near a seaside cliff.  I have never really been able to adapt myself to the ocean, memories die hard.  We were indisputably winning, and had backed them towards the brink, with the waters rumbling behind them.  By mere coincidence Miyako had gotten too close to the edge, and that section of land gave way under her. 

Daisuke was the closest one to her, and grabbed her and used his own body weight to spin the girl away from danger and in the process threw in himself over.  Paildramon saved him after he had bounced against the rock wall twice, and had him back up again in time to watch Silphymon Shakkuamon defeat our enemies and retreat.  He was relatively undamaged, some nasty bruises, a couple cuts, and a sprained wrist.  Quite miraculous, really. 

Miyako was alternately screaming and crying and slapping and hugging him while he sat on the grass with a dazed, goofy smile on his face.  I don't think he really believed he would live.  I know I hadn't.  The others crowded around, trying to avoid the flailing Miyako while scolding themselves.  He smiled, actually smiled, when Hikari rebuked him in that quiet, concerned way of hers.  He was enjoying the attention, really.  Especially Hikari's. 

Minomon and I stood a respectful distance away and watched the proceedings silently.  We returned to the real world by ourselves that night.  He tried to talk to me about it later, but I didn't feel like it. 

It was certainly not the first time that a Digidestined had flirted with death and it was unlikely that it would be the last.  It was also not one the stupidest and brave things Daisuke had ever done either; he's done worst, and bravery and stupidity walk hand and hand with Daisuke, though not the other way around.  That wasn't what was bothering me.  It brought insight to me, and I was not pleased with the information.  Nor with question it brought to mind.  If Daisuke were ever lost…  

Minomon was a great comfort to me at night, when my mind has nothing to distract itself with.  Sometimes I wish that he belonged to someone who deserved him, someone who could love him and take care of him the way he deserved.  Someone who's tears he didn't have to constantly wipe away.

I think Daisuke forgot the whole incident.

I sigh deeply, feeling the very bottoms of my lungs expend their air and watch the glass fog up with the unanticipated heat and humidity.  The sound tears through the silence like rusted shears, the first sound in what feels like hours.  The streets look beautiful from up here, with the rain smudging the outlines of the buildings in an imitation of Monet's paintings, the sky a muted and serene gray.  The heavens weep.  The corners of my mouth turn up slightly, without really knowing why.  Maybe knowing that even the skies share some procedures with us lowly mortals.  With me, especially.

Silently, as is my wont, I direct my attention toward yet another gift of the stars.  The dark figure is hunched over his desk, the flaxen light of the battery-powered lamp silhouetting his tense shoulders and spiky burgundy hair.    I don't need to see his face to know that he's frowning, angry at me for acting the way I am.     Angry at me, but not with me.  One of the many and significant differences between him and the rest of the world.  No matter what I do or what I feel, he could never hate me.  I know this for a fact, not because he's told me.  It's just the way he treats me, every smile bright and his eyes are always sincere.  He can be angry at me, he can afraid of me, he can laugh with me without any restraint.  But he could never hate me.  I'm not sure how I should feel about that.  To be afraid, or overjoyed?

We spent the better part of an hour yelling-well him yelling and me glaring-at each other, trying to wear the other down first.  Normally I wouldn't even put up a fight or argument, even with similar circumstances, but this is different somehow.  Actually I have been more sensitive of late, though I'm not sure why.  More… outspoken, I suppose.

As of now he's giving me the silent treatment, seeing if that will be anymore effective than screaming and gesturing wildly.  It's a classic irrational Daisuke.  I live my life in silence and he thinks by adding his own special brand of silence to it I'll snap. 

Damn him. 

It's working.

I will never let him know it.  He would keep on using it.  I stare at his back for a little while longer, thinking about of a way to get him to see reason.  The rain provides a nice background sound to his scratching on paper.

The stillness belies the nerves twanging below the surface, making every breath and glance shout their existence.  Every scratch and stretch of his skin sliding on his fingers makes me glance in his direction, only to stop mid route on his bunk bed from their destination.  His shoulders twitch imperceptibly every time I do that.  We have been caught in this cycle ever since he shut up.  Daisuke is not insensitive; he simply never takes time to consider his actions, preferring to let instinct dominion over his actions.  Normally one would think it strange for two boys to torture themselves with hypersensitivity simply to annoy the other into capitulating.   

I sigh again, which comes out a gale.  His head inclines a little triumphantly; he knows he's winning.  I study his back before prowling over to where he's diligently planning our next attack.  No, his next attack.  By himself.  The fact that he's going to be there with the other four Digidestined really isn't reassuring to me.  If I'm not there, it doesn't count. 

He chooses not to acknowledge my movement; he's too deeply involved in his scribbling.  Standing directly behind him and looking over his shoulder, I realize it really is just scribbling.  I'm looking at what I suppose is meant to be a map of the stronghold, and possible points of entry.  It looks more like Wormmon scrabbled over it with his bottom half dipped in ink.  How can he understand this thing?  How can he even pretend to understand it?  I hope he doesn't show it to the others.  Kami knows they tease him enough as it is. 

Without conscience thought, I brush the file of hair away from the side of my face.  His neck snaps straight up at the sound and vague movement, and his shoulders straighten and square.  After a moment of silence, I place my fingertips on one shoulder lightly, trying not to break the quiet, if edgy, mood.  I really don't want to return to the verbal battles, but this method of persuasion isn't functioning either.

"Please, just once, wait a while.  It's just two days Daisuke, that's all I'm asking.  The base, if that's what it is, isn't going anywhere in that amount of time."  Even though I'm pleading, begging even, I keep my voice inflectionless and monotone.  I can feel him tense even more through my fingertips, and for a minute I am afraid that he'll start ranting again or hit me. 

"I don't need your advice Ken."  He shrugs my hand off as violently as shoulder shrugs can be.  "An' 'less you're gonna help, just keep quite alright?  I'm trying ta think here?"  And doing an admirable job of it.  I grin at the sulky hint in his tone; he can be such a child at times.  He has no idea how endearing that can be.  "Just 'cause you're a genius doesn't mean that the rest of us can't do anything right without ya, ya know.  We were doing alright before withoutcha, and if you don't wanna help now I ain't gonna twist your arm over it."  Ouch.  Double ouch.   

"It's not that I don't want to help, it's just that I think-" He cut me off.  "Just save it Ichijouji.  I already heard ya before.  Just save it."  Now I'm irritated.  I never liked being cut off.  "And you haven't heard a damn."  I sound angrier than I meant to, and Daisuke leans away from me, his chest practically lying on the desk.  I sigh again, and step closer.  "I know you can do this.  That's not in question, nor is that the problem.  And I do want to help."  He relaxes a little mollified slightly by that concession, but still resolved.  Still as stubborn as ever.  Still my worthy adversary who never gives up, not on the mission, not on himself, and not on Hikari.  Never Hikari.

I sigh again; I do that often when we argue.  Unless I do something drastic quickly he's going to go in battle tomorrow without me and possibly get hurt.  In fact, I know he will.  Jogress intuition.

I glide my head forward until my breath is arching over his ear and I can smell his apricot shampoo.  I'm whispering now, my breath wafting in undulating volumes of warmth and velocity.  "Daisuke, you are being unreasonable, and you know it."  No answer, other than a slight flinch due to my proximity.  Still using the silent treatment, now that he realizes that it works.  My voice takes on an entreating tone.  "Do you really want to take chances if they're not necessary?  I think that you guys are right about the base, and…that's why I want to be there with you.  All.  As team." 

He relaxes a little, then his shoulders harden again, and grunts defiantly, determined not to say a word.  My voice hardens without me really willing it, and when I speak again, it's with the old stealth and power of the Kaiser, low and deliberate.  "All right, if that's the game you want to play, I can play too.  You're not going anywhere, I won't let you."  He grunts inquisitively, defiantly.  I take on a teasing tone, though I'm not playing now.  "I can cuff you to your bed, take your D3 away from you, turn your room into a prison if that's what it takes Daisuke, to keep you safe.  To keep you from throwing your life away."  As an afterthought, I add, "Or I'll just keep you chained in my room.  To the bottom bunk, I guess, where I could keep an eye on you all night.  Just like the old days, ne?"  I grin suddenly, my fingertips finding their way back to his shoulder and sliding forward till my hand is cupping his shoulder and leaning on it for support.  "You know I could.  You know I would."

I sense a retaliation coming from the threat and the innuendos, and tentatively, lightly, I glide my hand forward until it's sliding down his arm, massaging the tense muscles under the sun tanned skin and cloth which relax involuntarily.  I generally avoid physical contact whenever possible with everyone; Daisuke is the one who always latches onto my skin, so his reaction is reasonable.  His breath catches in his throat, turning his head to look at me, but trying to avoid physical contact.  He can't, I'm too close.  Either his cheek brushes mine or he backs away.  He stays still, but I can still see the anger and hysteria of a caged animal running through them.  Can't blame him.  As much as I enjoy the contact, these are hardly the conditions I had envisioned.  "Fuck it Ken, I already said I'm going.  It's not your decision to make and if you don't like it-"

"You think you can stop me if you want, but if I really, really wanted to…"  In a completely unreasoned, impulsive second, my hand darts from his arm to press his abdomen into the chair and imprisoning him. He gasps and the muscles beneath my palm tense, the air practically reverberating with the vibrations of his body.  I lean in closer, till my lips are mere millimeters away from his skin.  "Gotcha."  I'm sweating sheets, just being this close.  The coldness of the atmosphere is contrasting hectically with the emotions running through my body, kicking my hormones around like a soccer ball.  I move deliberate closer, putting my other arm on his other side, so that I'm holding him in place.  Making him my captive.  Something I've wanted to do since I was the Kaiser.   

"I could keep you here with me forever, if I wanted it…if I thought you wouldn't hate for it.  If I thought you let me."  Even if my other hand wasn't caressing his upper arm, I would still be able to see him trembling.  He's hyperventating, and trying to hide it.  I move forward without moving away, and my chest comes to a stop at his chest.  I want to know what he's thinking right now.  My eyes meet his warm maple syrup ones, confusion and fear running rampant through them. 

I forget that he could see into my own eyes, and I regret my action in record speed.  Nothing I did would hide my own emotions, my eyes never could keep secrets.  To conceal the lust and desire that flourishing in my own.  I can't believe I'm thinking about seducing my best friend here and now.  Not the seducing part, but the here and now part, this is so ill timed. 

Yes, I want my best friend.  Shoot me for it, string me up on a pole and stone me, or add it on to my already staggering lists of sins that's accumulating like a drunkard's tab; one more can't possibly alter my inevitable punishment and condemnation.  But I do want him, and nothing can change that.  I want him badly in fact; so much I can practically taste the mint and clover on his skin.  I want to feel his muscles rippling under my hands, see him writhing and panting above me.  Seeing him breathless and flushed as it is right now is turning me on beyond familiarity, making my pants feel painfully tight and my skin roiling. 

He sees it too.  How much I want him.  He sees it.  And he's afraid. 

What the hell am I thinking?  Quite simply…I'm not.

"You scared me last time.  Do you have any idea," my eyes narrow, and my voice is longer the gentle, lukewarm temperature it used be. "I hate being scared.  I do not enjoy it.   You could have left me dammit, with nothing.  Do really believe that I would take that chance again?"  My voice goes up a few decibels, and I struggle to lower it, the tension of the past few weeks finally surfacing.  "If you leave me, ever, you leave me with nothing.  Nothing at all.  And then, I will be sincerely, extremely, unhappy.  And that is not something you would want to see twice in your lifetime." 

He looks scared.  He looks terrified.  I can feel the addictive, heady rush of being in control again, the dominating one, and the feared.  The power, the control, the sweat the heat the joy…it's all there again.  Right back where it belonged.  I had missed it. 

I allow my eyes to become distant, clinical, trying to handle on myself, trying to find some cache of reason before I do something I'll regret.  I rake him slowly from the tips of his hair to his chest to his thighs and down to the soles of his shoes again, mentally stroking every surface and pore with my eyes.  My expression is distant, contemplative when I come back to look him in the eyes.  I'm feeding off his fear.  The feeling is both repulsive and enthralling, something that I have both dreaded and longed for.  He's blushing uncontrollably, visible even in the shadows and limelight.  He's breathing worst than before, startled and aroused by my extrasensory groping.  I hope he doesn't pass out from lack of oxygen.

He doesn't.

If you threaten a caged animal, they tend to either submit entirely or to react badly to it.  Daisuke is not the submitting type, as I found out.  He spun the chair around so quickly that it took me a few seconds to register the fact that I had been hit in the left mid-section with a punch that I am certain would have been more effective and painful if it had been aimed properly. 

"What the hell do ya think you're doing izsot like I belong to ya or somethin' and when da hell didja get so dang possessive dammit I swear you have just been up with something all week but longer what the hell is going on Ichijouji?"  He pauses to breathe.  He looks dazed.  I bet I do too.  "Huh?"

I study him for a while, an action that I know will both unnerve him and piss him off.  His face is flushed and tousled, his eyes shinning bright with annoyance and confusion.  His chest is panting, making every muscle visible through his shirt every time he inhales.  Kissama, does he have any idea how alluring he looks right now?

"Ken?"

For all my bravado and innuendos, when it comes to the truth of the moment I'm too terrified to move.  Auburn eyes burn into mine expectantly, waiting.  I want to bolt.  I just realized after it's too late just how vulnerable I've allowed myself to become.  And there's nothing I can do about it now.  Damn, now I'm the captive, the prey, nailed down by his eyes.  I glare at him, redirecting the anger and frustration that's drowning me at him. 

Damn it, why couldn't you cooperate?  Why did you have to make me feel this way?  Why can't you see how I feel?  Why does it have hurt so much?

I get up quickly, too quickly, my nerves tell me.  I double over once for one embarrassing moment, before righting myself again.  I look at him imperiously down my nose, and thank genetics profusely for my height.  He looks more confused than ever, and little afraid.  Damn, I hadn't wanted him afraid of me.  There's too many people afraid of me already, myself included.  If Daisuke were to ever give up on me…that would it.  It.  And I have given him every reason to now. 

I knew it would happen eventually.  I am a lost cause, after all.  I had the potential to become great, to help people.  But I didn't.  And given a second chance, if it were possible, I can't sincerely say that I wouldn't make the same mistake again.  Everyone else sees it, that's why they all keep a certain distance between them and me.  All except Daisuke.  And whether it was because he was too dense to see how lost I was, or too stubborn to accept the fact, I don't know.  Not that it matters now.  As is my fate and destiny, I have fucked things marvelously, as Miyako would say. 

I stare him frigidly for a moment, as if the past few moments had not happened and he was just being unreasonable again, and I was rightfully becoming frustrated trying to force the logic down his throat.  My eyes were itchy, and painfully dry, like I had been staring at a computer screen too long again.  And then I slapped him.

Tears start to burn at my eyes, and tilt my head so that my hair provides some protection before taking advantage of his shock and dashing for the door.  He must have been braced for it, because Daisuke arrests my arm and tackles me backwards, falling on me really to counter my momentum. .  "If ya think  that I'm really gonna letcha-"

My butt slams on the floor unexpectedly, my shoulder blades blunting themselves on the carpet and loose clothes.  Then his hands were pinning me down by the wrists and he was leaning all his weight into keeping me there.  In a move born purely of instinct and not thinking of any kind, I leaned up on my elbows since my arms were pinned.  It hurt, putting so much weight on my elbows from that angle after they had just gone through a shock of being thrown to the ground.  And then I kissed him.  Sort of.  Mostly my lips just pressed themselves against his in a rather clumsy, stiff, and very impersonal manner.

He froze.

Then I yanked my arm out of grasp so I could crawl out from beneath and run back home.  Kissama, I sound like a little kid.  Incidentally, he lost his balance and fell on top of me again.  It's amazing how drastically the temperature in the room changed.  I was freezing.  Not that that stopped me from moving out from under him.  He recovered from his shock fast enough to tackle me.  Again.  We tussled on floor for a while, slipping on misplaced objects, like we do whenever we're just fooling around.  And if not for my stupidity, it would have been just that.  And we would have just been friends again.  

I get a glimpse of his eyes, angrier, darker and more intense than any sunset before his mouth covers mine.  His lips are firm and molten, a shock to my own cold and stiff ones.  He devoured my own, pulling with his lips and nipping lightly with his teeth.  Something compact stroked my bottom lip along its length, before probing and wedging itself between my lips, stroking the upper lip on the inside.  A whimper bounces from my throat involuntarily. 

I need to breathe.  The hell with breathing, this was better.

It was heaven, it was hell, it was every in between infinity and oblivion here and back and kisama, he felt good.  He tasted good too, like, I don't know, just really, really good.  His tongue stroked the flatness of my teeth, which was the strangest feeling I have ever had inside my mouth, and the part of my brain that controlled my body jumped-started, my mouth opening and my lips attempting to suck and bite (with my lips) Daisuke back. 

Oh god. 

Daisuke? 

Daisuke's tongue tickling the roof of my mouth and rubbing the rough upper layer under my own? My Daisuke in my arms?  Daisuke's hands running along my sides and moaning into my mouth?  On top of my body?  But that was impossible, as much as the warm and heavy mass pressing down on me disagreed.  Daisuke liked Hikari.  Daisuke loved Hikari.  Daisuke worshipped Hikari.

My lungs started to ache unpleasantly, but I was deeply immersed in bliss to really take note of that.

And then the bliss stopped and I could breathe again.  Hands clenched my shoulders painfully, and my ear ached with the sound of rapid, erratic air blustering past it.  I noticed my arms were wrapped around his waist, and reflexively I pulled him down until our stomachs touched and he was lying down on top of me.  I gasped and heard our mingled groan as our hips…and parts, touched.

He jerked back, coming into my line of vision and I into his.

He stared at me silently.  I stared back at him, not really being able to see him well in the dim light in back of him.  It reminded me of all the horror movies where they place the lighting in the back of killer so his features are indiscernible but you can barely make out his eyes.  Daisuke's eyes are nearly glowing, muddled with more emotions than I felt like naming.  Chief among them was desire.  Not astonishing, as I felt the proof of that throbbing against my own a few minutes earlier.  And fear too.  That's still there.  He must be thinking that I was trying to seduce him.  And….that wouldn't be completely untrue. 

"Ken."  He looks bewildered, he looks scared.  I don't say anything.

"Ken, why didja…"

That look in his eyes is killing me.  Why do think?  Why can't you see for once beyond her?  Why can't you ever see me, just once?  If you didn't understand me, why did you make me hope?  I feel my breathing return to normal, and body becomes rigid, unyielding.  My arms slide rapidly to my sides and the carpet, and stay immobile after that.  The only movement is the droplets of moisture forming at the ends of my eyes.  He stares at me, his eyes sympathetic but still confused.  His hands slide to the floor on either side of my own, and he lays his head on chest with a sigh.  His hips are thankfully (or is it?) still in the air.  I keep my eyes focused on a point on the ceiling, my back as ramrod straight as possible, given the circumstances. 

"So what happens now?" comes the muffled question.

"I don't know."  Well, I leave with whatever shreds of dignity I still possess and never return.  My voice is cold, and I am ashamed to say that it warbled at the end.  Another sigh. 

"Are ya mad at me?"  Mad at you?  The question throws me.  How could I ever be mad at you?  I was livid with myself for being a romantic fool and idiot, but I could never be mad at him.

"No."

"Oh."  A pause.

"So, didja do that, 'cuase of why I think ya did that?  Or 'cuase of somethin' else?"  How am I supposed to know what you're thinking, Daisuke?  Typical Daisuke. 

"Maybe I did."  I have no idea what the options are, so I can't agree or disagree.  "Maybe because I wanted to."  Shit, why did have to go and say that?!?

"Oh."  Silence.

"That's good.  You should follow your feelings."  Damn him, how could he say that?  What an idiot.  Are you referring to you or him?, comes a little voice inside my head. 

"I wanted to too."  What?  He hauls himself up so he can see into my eyes, which are glistening in the darkness with liquid mercury, streaming down my face.  I can't see his expression for a moment, and that frightens me.  Not knowing what he's thinking.  That's always frightened me before, but now I have no guards, as I did before.  The shadow above leans down, and lightly, gently, licks my tears away, which are flowing more profusely than before.

"Ken?"

"Yes?"

"I'm still going."

"But Dai, that's, I mean, that's just…"  I stammer uncharacteristically, searching for my answer.  "I wasn't trying to do…what it looked like I was trying to do."

"Really?"  His voice is incredulous and smiling.  "So what were ya trying ta do?"

I thought for a while.  Show him my feelings?  Keep him out of danger at all costs? 

"What it…looked like I was trying to do."

"Oh."

Pause.

"Ya know Ken…I would never leave you."  But you already are.  I look up at the ceiling, and listen to the sound of rain.  "'Cause then…I wouldn't have anything either."