Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Bed of Lies (v. 2.1) ❯ Somewhere where I just don't belong ( Chapter 6 )

A/N: After way too much time between updates, a new chapter is here. I'm not sure exactly how the next chapter will link from this one, since this one is mostly just introspective moments, switching from Taichi to Yamato and back. Taichi should be cracking in the next chapter though, so it'll be more enjoyable to write than this one. I want to finish this story soon, though I fear that the second story in this series, about Daisuke, may end up becoming part of the continuity of this one. Not necessarily part of this story, but most of it takes place in the time between the first two chapters of this story. And then the rest takes place after. It's all very confusing.

I'll probably end up rewriting bits of this story after it's completed as well, since there's stuff I know I should have written in, or need to add, but at the moment am too lazy to do anything about. Again, I apologize for lack of updates, but it'll be more regular for the rest of this journey, once a month or so I'm hoping.

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[Don't wanna be the one who turns the whole thing over

Don't wanna be somewhere where I just don't belong

Where it's not enough just be sorry]

Taichi woke with a start, why he did not know. He sat up. He had been sweating while he slept; cold drops slid down from his temples, and down his neck and back. He looked around his bedroom. Just the night before, he'd had Yamato in here, been alone with him, and had made no move. Again. He fell back into his sheets, feeling once more a fool. And more than a fool- he was so foolish he lost his wits when he was around Yamato, acting so rude he was amazed Yamato kept trying to crack him open.

He sat up again, knowing he needed to get up, need to go to work. He didn't want to, and considered calling in, something he rarely did as it was. The past two days had been a blur, easily the most upsetting weekend he'd ever experienced. He decided he was deserving of a day off after all that.

He got to his feet, unsteadily at first, and opened the door to his bedroom. Before slipping out, he peered down the hallway to see if Daisuke was up and about yet. When he had established in his mind that the coast was, indeed, clear, he crept to the kitchen, where the phone was located. No sooner had he put a hand on the receiver did Daisuke's voice sound, echoing in the once empty kitchen.

"Calling in?" He asked, looking disappointed.

"Yes, not that its any of your business," Taichi told him coldly, picking up the receiver.

"As long as we're living together, it is," Daisuke declared simply. When he spoke again his voice was a little softer in tone. "I guess I can understand, though."

"Thanks, not that I care whether you think I should call in or not," Taichi said, preparing to dial. He was glad that Daisuke didn't speak while he made his call, but after he hung up he wished that Daisuke wasn't there at all.

"So did anything happen last night?"

"No, thank you very much," Taichi said furiously.

"Really? I had the impression he'd stayed until you fell asleep," Daisuke said, obviously not concerned in the least how any of this affected Taichi. "He said you were out like a light when he left."

"How late were you up, anyway?"

"Too late," Daisuke said, eyes seeming to be focused everywhere except on Taichi. "But I'm still going in to work."

Taichi looked infuriated, and Daisuke was wise to dart out of the apartment before Taichi could harm him in any way. Taichi wondered absently which of his four jobs Daisuke was working that day. He put the receiver back on its base, and looked around the kitchen distractedly, pondering the idea of eating something. He decided, after much absent minded gazing at the contents of the cupboard that he wasn't that hungry anyway, and went back to his room.

Even though no one else was there, he closed his bedroom door before sitting down heavily on his bed. He let himself fall backwards, trying to remember what had happened the previous night. He remembered Yamato talking about feeling unfulfilled; as much as he wanted the missing piece to be himself, he felt it more likely that Yamato was feeling the effects finally of giving up on his creativity. It still pained him, though, to see him like that. Only when Yamato was truly depressed did he elicit sympathy from Taichi, unrequited love or no.

He knew he had been right, then, about how Yamato looked when they had met on the beach. There were few things that could make him look so sad, and after what Yamato had told him, it made sense to him, that face he'd been wearing.

Raising an arm into the air above him as he so often did, he found himself imagining how Yamato's skin would feel under his fingers. He did this often, more times than he cared to count, and every time it made him sick that he wanted to feel every bit of Yamato's body with those fingers. Sick, and exhilarated. He had come to terms with the feeling long ago, but it still caught him off guard sometimes, and certainly had that particular morning.

But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't hate himself for feeling this way anymore. It was partly from time and partly from Daisuke's continual sympathy, hearing the same things from him. He was nice, having someone so close by that actually understood his crooked mind. And yet, still he still found himself wondering how much easier his life would be without these desires. So far, the only thing he'd gained was a deepening of his friendship with Daisuke, something he was certainly grateful for, but nothing completely fulfilling.

And that was what it was, right there. He would never feel whole, never. Unless by some miracle, the hole in Yamato's life was actually him. No, there was no way that would ever be it, not a chance. It might make a nice fantasy, though.

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Yamato opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming into the room through open curtains, nearly blinding him. He blinked, realizing he was in his own living room, the past night's events becoming clear in his memory. He chanced a look at his watch. It was close to noon, and he was very, very late to work.

Or well, he would be if he were going to work at all that day, something he doubted greatly. He sat up, shaking his head vigorously in an attempt to wake himself mentally. It made him a bit dizzy, but ultimately did the trick. He didn't get up from the couch, though. He was far too concerned with understanding what had happened the night before. Even though Taichi hadn't spoken much, Yamato thought he made progress in getting him to open up, if even just the smallest bit.

He couldn't quite grasp why it was so important to know what Taichi was thinking, and had been thinking for so long. Or was it simply just thoughts? Yamato was certain that there was more to it, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and nothing bothered him more than be in the dark about something so obviously important. He wondered, then, how long Taichi had been feeling this way, and why he hadn't noticed before. Had Taichi just been better at covering it up? Or has Yamato been more insensitive to his friend's needs than he'd thought?

As insensitive as he'd been, Taichi's behavior would have been hard to ignore. It would have had much the same effect as it was now. He wanted so badly to be in Taichi's good graces, really be in them. He was almost there; Taichi had let him in for a while that night, which was more than he'd hoped for. He was beginning to truly dislike the position Taichi was forcing him into. And he would remain there until he could figure out what Taichi wanted from him, something he more than likely wouldn't know until Taichi told him everything he was holding back.

And he wondered if maybe all the information he wanted, and needed, Taichi's problems, what he needed to say, if maybe it was all the same small bit of information? That would be anticlimactic at best, but it was a reasonable theory. Of course, it all hinged on whether Taichi would ever open up to him again.

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Taichi didn't do very much that day. He fell asleep lost in thought, waking after a series of dreams he didn't care to remember. It made him more aware of his situation, though, and made him realize that ultimately he was going to cave and admit everything to Yamato. And when he did, well, things would change, and probably not for the better.

He didn't want that to happen, though. The thought of losing him as a friend again was far worse than simply never telling him. He could live with his love unrequited, his lust unslicked; living without even seeing him was something he didn't think he'd be able to face again. But try as he might, he felt more and more sure that he would crack, and that it was possible that his defenses were starting to slip.

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Yamato got up from the couch once that day, to call into work. He sat back down heavily and looked around his living room. He realized for the first time that nothing of the decorating in this room had come from him. It unsettled him, as memories of decorating the apartment he'd shared with Taichi came to his mind, memories of how many ideas he'd had and how he'd been unable to use most of them. He smiled, a warm feeling echoing in those memories of something he was uncertain he'd be able to attain once more.

He found himself feeling out of place in that room, like it wasn't his. He didn't want to be there, but he couldn't leave. How far had wandered from his path before realizing he was lost?

His thoughts fell back to the previous night, and he found himself wishing it hadn't been so short. He'd lost so much time when he strayed from the path, and that was only the beginning of what it would take to make it up. But he wanted to, and would enjoy doing so. He felt strangely contented thinking about that, pondering how to he could make it up to Taichi even without the knowledge he so desperately needed. For now, all he could do was insist on spending time with him, which was oddly dissatisfying.

He wondered when he should call again, as waiting for Taichi to do anything would take longer than he'd like to wait. He didn't want to be there, in that position, and he was determined to make sure things changed. And nothing would change if his progress with Taichi stagnated even just a little bit. He wouldn't know how to fix his own problems until he had Taichi's support. He didn't know why it was so important to him, but he did know why he'd found Taichi that night on the beach.

He'd wanted to so badly to know what was missing, to be given what he needed, and he was. He hadn't realized before how important Taichi had been in his life, and was now lost without his support.