Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Cacophony and Symphony ❯ Cacophony and Symphony ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Faded Jae 
Problems arise between Yamato and Taichi when Yamato's band becomes successful. Taito/Yamachi. Complete!
Anime/Manga: Digimon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 01.25.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 941 | Status: Completed
Problems arise between Yamato and Taichi when Yamato's band becomes successful. Taito/Yamachi. Complete!
Anime/Manga: Digimon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 01.25.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 941 | Status: Completed
Author's Note: I wrote this in response for a challenge at the DigimonExchange community on LJ. It's in Yamato's point of view, which means it's artsy-fartsy and angsty, but I like it nonetheless. The challenge was as such:
Characters/Pairing 3: Taichi/Yamato
Scenario 3: Taichi is drunk. Yamato is flustered. There is a whole lot of sexual tension. Extra points for awkward situations, compromising positions and, of course, a resolution to the sexual tension.
Yay for Taito!
---
The girls and their boyfriends for the evening have already left to bigger and better bars; only Taichi and Yamato remain at the counter. It's only midnight, but the windy weather and forecast of rain discourages all but the most dedicated of party-goers, but Yamato's relieved that the bar's empty, last thing he wants is to fight off amorous advances of fans. He's already battled Daisuke's sister Jun, having unfortunately crashed into her on the street, and the event drained him of most of his energy. The girl just could not take a hint. The Motomiya's were all like that - grabby and gabby.
His shoulder bangs into Taichi, who, already on his fifth drink, is beginning to sway slightly. Yamato pulls away, inching sideways on his seat, and glares moodily at the calluses on his fingers.
The silence between them creeps by until Taichi, never one to quietly reflect for long periods of time, even when sober, returns to a previously discussed conversation. "I can afford rent on my own for a while," he says to his shot glass, "No problem. I'll just fly solo for a while. 'Sides, finding a new roommate would be a hassle."
They'd been arguing about rent for days, maybe even weeks, with Yamato insisting that Taichi find someone else to take his place while he went on tour with his band, and Taichi insisting that thanks, but he liked the current living arrangement, and besides, Yamato had to come back to Tokyo eventually. With the day of the tour approaching, it's hard to ask about the weather without one of them starting at it again. Yamato sighs and rubs his eyes, and then turns to look at Taichi.
Taichi's smiling at him, but it's sloppy and looks forced. Rather than engage in another debate, Yamato plays devil's advocate against himself. "And no one cooks as well as me," Yamato's voice is calm, but the grin he wears is sharp. "Be hard to find a decent replacement."
Taichi latches on to this arm of the conversation. "Hell yeah! And he'd have to clean up my mess and drink the coffee I make in the morning without complaining and keep us stocked with that crazy shampoo you get from Switzerland..." What was supposed to be funny has now turned uncomfortably sentimental; Taichi shuts his rambling mouth before Yamato can realize how much their relationship sounds like a marriage.
Yamato, still nursing his first drink, has already noticed this. His gaze slides away from the miserable, hunched-over Taichi and focuses on an autographed picture of The Wolves which hangs on the wall. Taichi exhales an audible sigh and Yamato turns back to his friend. Dragging it on like this - was it cruel? He slides his glass in small circles on the bar and berates himself for his selfishness. Taichi's loyalty was unwavering, but based on false pretenses. Yamato imagines Taichi's response if he confessed - "I don't want you as a friend." There'd be confusion, then anger - Taichi always responded with unbound energy - and then awkward apologies and they'd drift away. But Taichi would recover, and probably be better for it.
That's what he should do. It's in Taichi's best interest; there's no way he can afford the apartment's expenses on his pathetic salary. Besides that (Yamato shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool in an attempt to control certain, disobliging part of his anatomy), it's not fair to tie himself to Taichi. Taichi shouldn't be bound to him - Taichi needed someone more normal, someone with less problems, someone female.
Taichi suddenly sits up. He cracks his back and rolls his shoulders and then spreads his lips into a broad grin. "Man, we suck at celebrating! We should have a party or something - not sit around an empty bar like idiots. Wanna call Takeru? Or Sora? Jyou's busy, and Koushiro too, actually, but I bet everyone else is around."
"No," the word comes out harder than he intended; Taichi's eyes open wide in surprise. Yamato smiles carelessly and casually runs a hand through his hair to smooth over the hole he's ripped in the conversation. "It's late already, and you're drunk enough as it is. Besides, we're having a get-together tomorrow, remember?"
Taichi scrunches his face as he searches for the memory. His tongue slips out of his mouth and runs over his lips, as if making Yamato's heart and guts lurch into overdrive could help him sort through his thoughts. "Right," he says at last, "Sorry. You know how bad I am with dates. I need to get a calendar or something."
He doesn't say that it's been Yamato who's kept Taichi on schedule. The unspoken words sit heavily in his chest, and Taichi tosses back the last of his drink in an attempt to settle them. The alcohol mixes unpleasantly with whatever else he has in side him - he closes his eyes briefly to contain all the things that want to come spilling out. Like lunch. "Urg," he mumbles and pulls himself off the stool, "Ready to go home."
He fumbles for his wallet, but Yamato's faster and pays the bill before Taichi can get the money out. Taichi looks pitifully at Yamato, who gives him another sharp grin. "Last time I cover your tab," he says. He waves his hand dismissively; the gesture is meant to dispel Taichi's opposition, but it's also an attempt to banish the once-again blossoming desire to simply tip Taichi over the bar's counter and have his way with him.
Another pitiful look. "I owe you," Taichi replies, the words slurred around the edges.
They move toward the door, Taichi wobbling and banging into Yamato on occasion, but neither of them moving away from each other. Yamato tells himself that he needs to be near enough to Taichi to catch him if he stumbles, but the excuse is flimsy - Taichi's far from being that drunk.
He should end it. The sooner the better. He opens his mouth to put his foot down, but then Tiachi turns his wide, woefully beautiful eyes on him and Yamato snaps his mouth shut. "What?" He manages to grind out at last, but doesn't wait for a respnse. He pushes out the door and onto the street, his feet moving him quickly down the sidewalk.
Taichi's footsteps are heavy and uneven. "Hey, wait up. I was only gonna ask if you wanted to go anywhere else. With me. I mean..." He pauses and rubs a hand through his mess of hair. "I mean, do anything special. I mean..."
Yamato mimics Taichi's gesture unconsciously and tries not to look too deeply into Taichi's offer. "Let's just go home."
They walk in silence. The streets are empty and quiet and calm, allowing Yamato to focus all his attention inwardly. He ponders the various ways he can sever the ties, but none of them are satisfying and all of them too hard to do. Stop answering his cell phone? Pretend to be too successful to return home? Change personalities?
Yamato just can't. He just can't not be in love with Taichi. He'd live his whole life the weight of a one-sided love if need be; loving Taichi is a part of him, like an arm or a leg.
Even though it's torture - what with Taichi so close and soon to be so far. He steal a kiss and blame it on the alcohol - he'll be gone for weeks, maybe months, plenty of time for them to try to forget about it and even laugh about it, should it ever come up. Yamato seriously considers this, particularly when Taichi's hands brushes his or, and damn, and he's doing this now, puts his arm around Yamato's shoulder (in a friendly manner, Yamato tries to convince himself, because that's the sort of friendly, outgoing person that Taichi is).
"You don't mind do ya? Feel sorta dizzy. Shouldn't have mixed beer and gin."
The devil sitting on Yamato's shoulder pushes him into action; he wraps on arm around Taichi's waist, looping his fingers in a belt loop, "Goddamn, you'll take me down with you."
Silence again, broken only by their awkward footsteps. Embaressed by the show of affection, Yamato stares determinedly out into the night, desperate to avoid Taichi's gaze.
Taichi, for his part, is oblivious of the tension. He's silent because he's busy putting on foot in front of the other. He's breathing heavily from the effort - Yamato can feel the warmth of his exhales. Yamato grits his teeth. He has to end this; he'll die if he has to put up with much longer. He's heart's already ramming against his ribs, his stomach's doing cartwheels, and he's practically dripping with sweat. And then there's the yearning, a constant tug in his soul.
Somehow they make it back to the apartment - a miracle in and of itself. Yamato untangles himself from Taichi and unlocks their door. They stumble into the darkened room; Taichi flails for a moment, then grabs onto Yamato's shoulder to steady himself. Yamato can feel Taichi's fingers burning through his shirt and he curses inwardly before shaking Taichi off.
Taichi's looking woeful again, Yamato turns away, mumbling "I'll get you some asprin" as a sort of apology. He hurries into the bathroom, then rests his head against the cool tiles for a moment, collecting his wild thoughts and reining in his wild emotions. His fingers shaking slightly, Yamato rifles through the medicine cabinet, moving the toothpaste and dental floss to grab the aspirin.
When he ventures out, he finds Taichi leaning over the kitchen sink, staring morosely at an overflowing glass of water. When he hears Yamato approach, he startles and grins sheepishly as he turns off the faucet. "Guess I'm still wasted."
There's a lump in Yamato's throat, so rather than speaking, he just holds out the pills. Taichi reaches for them, the tips of his fingers brushing softly against Yamato's palm.
Yamato gasps in spite of himself, then scowls deeply. "I'm going to bed."
"Wait." Taichi's faster than him, and before Yamato can dodge out of the way, Taichi grabs his hand. The two aspirin clatter on the floor rather dramatically, and Yamato watches them slide under the sink. He finally lifts his head and looks at Taichi with what he hopes is a bored, disinterest expression on his face. The grip on his wrist loosens slightly, but Taichi doesn't let him go.
They stand like that for a moment before Taichi lets go and takes a step backwards. "Sorry," he shrugs and looks away, "I'm drunk."
Yamato returns the shrug. "Whatever." He gives Taichi another second to explain himself, but when Taichi remains motionless and silent, Yamato shrugs for a second time and moves out of the kitchen to the area that doubles as a bedroom and tv room. He unrolls his futon quickly, but then stares at his blankets, debating a variety of actions.
"Look, I'm sorry." Taichi sounds like a petulant child. "You're leaving in two days and I fucked up your last night here."
"Don't worry about it." Yamato doesn't turn around. "Let's just get some sleep." He lies down, fully dressed, on top of the bedding, and pushes his face into his pillow to block out the image of Taichi undressing. He used to watch him - perverse, sick bastard that he was - watch Taichi's casual movements as he pulled off shirts and socks and pants. It was simply too much, even hearing the russle of cloth was distracting.
"Sure you don't want to do anything else before you go to sleep? Shitty way to celebrating, going to bed early."
"I'm sure." Yamato's voice is muffled on account that he's practically suffocating himself on his pillow. "Good night."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Really sure?"
Irritation replaces arrousal and Yamato lifts himself up on his elbows. "Alright, Yagami. What the hell do you want to do?"
Taichi has an odd look on his face - regret and... "This is your last night here."
"Does that mean you're finding a new roommate?"
"You really want me to, don't you?"
"I don't care. It's your choice."
"Yours too."
Yamato sighs. "What do you want from me, Taichi? I'm not going to pay for this place if I'm not living here, and you can't afford rent by yourself. Be reasonable for once."
Taichi flares at Yamato's off-hand insult. "Hey, I'm just trying to be nice. On account that we're friends. If you're going to be an asshole about it, then forget it."
"Fine."
"Fine. Good." Taichi rips the cover off his futon and throws himself onto it. "Good," he growls again, "At least we're agreeing on something now."
There's a pause that stretches a millennia; Yamato hopes that Taichi's fallen asleep, but after thirty or so heartbeats, Taichi speaks up again. "Hey, you'll be gone for what, five months?"
The anger's dissipated. "Sort of. I have days off, though, so I'll be able to see everyone from time to time."
"So you will need a place to stay."
"I told you, don't make your decision on my account. Do whatever the hell you want to do."
"As long as it's what you want," Taichi says wryly.
Yamato doesn't dignify this with a response.
"You don't want to come back, do you?" When Yamato remains silent, Tiachi pushes forward, "This is the end, isn't it?"
Yamato can hear the soft hum of the refrigerator and the muted voices of their neighbors. He listens rather than speaking; Taichi slams his hand on the ground, livid again. "Fine. Just fucking fine. If this is the end, then I guess I can finally do this."
Yamato raises his eyebrows in puzzlement and opens his mouth to ask Taichi to clarify, but before the words are formed, Taichi's lips crash down onto his. Shocked as he is, he manages to kiss back, grabbing Taichi's waist with trembling fingers, digging into the soft skin and feeling the firm muscles below.
They scramble to touch each other and Yamato pulls Taichi's hips down to grind against his own and Taichi pushes his fingers into Yamato's hair and there's no turning back down, thank God. The kiss, hungry and desperate, until their breathes are spent.
Taichi speaks first, his voice low and husky, "For so long-"
"Me too."
"We're idiots."
"I know."
Taichi rolls to his side, but their bodies don't part. "I've been trying to figure you out-"
"You never seemed interested."
"You never seemed interested."
"Fuck," Taichi nuzzles against Yamato's neck, tracing kisses along the silky skin of his throat. "You'll come back?"
Yamato inhales sharply. "Yes. And yes." He drags his hands upwards, over Taichi's ribs and to his broad shoulders. Taichi groans and presses against him, practically panting. "Every chance I get."
Hearts are thrumming in concert, with murmurs of prayers and curses whose volume rises and falls. In the morning, Yamato will think of more musical puns, but rather than wake Taichi to share in the guilty pleasure that is paronomasia, he lets himself fall back asleep in Taichi's arms.
Characters/Pairing 3: Taichi/Yamato
Scenario 3: Taichi is drunk. Yamato is flustered. There is a whole lot of sexual tension. Extra points for awkward situations, compromising positions and, of course, a resolution to the sexual tension.
Yay for Taito!
---
The girls and their boyfriends for the evening have already left to bigger and better bars; only Taichi and Yamato remain at the counter. It's only midnight, but the windy weather and forecast of rain discourages all but the most dedicated of party-goers, but Yamato's relieved that the bar's empty, last thing he wants is to fight off amorous advances of fans. He's already battled Daisuke's sister Jun, having unfortunately crashed into her on the street, and the event drained him of most of his energy. The girl just could not take a hint. The Motomiya's were all like that - grabby and gabby.
His shoulder bangs into Taichi, who, already on his fifth drink, is beginning to sway slightly. Yamato pulls away, inching sideways on his seat, and glares moodily at the calluses on his fingers.
The silence between them creeps by until Taichi, never one to quietly reflect for long periods of time, even when sober, returns to a previously discussed conversation. "I can afford rent on my own for a while," he says to his shot glass, "No problem. I'll just fly solo for a while. 'Sides, finding a new roommate would be a hassle."
They'd been arguing about rent for days, maybe even weeks, with Yamato insisting that Taichi find someone else to take his place while he went on tour with his band, and Taichi insisting that thanks, but he liked the current living arrangement, and besides, Yamato had to come back to Tokyo eventually. With the day of the tour approaching, it's hard to ask about the weather without one of them starting at it again. Yamato sighs and rubs his eyes, and then turns to look at Taichi.
Taichi's smiling at him, but it's sloppy and looks forced. Rather than engage in another debate, Yamato plays devil's advocate against himself. "And no one cooks as well as me," Yamato's voice is calm, but the grin he wears is sharp. "Be hard to find a decent replacement."
Taichi latches on to this arm of the conversation. "Hell yeah! And he'd have to clean up my mess and drink the coffee I make in the morning without complaining and keep us stocked with that crazy shampoo you get from Switzerland..." What was supposed to be funny has now turned uncomfortably sentimental; Taichi shuts his rambling mouth before Yamato can realize how much their relationship sounds like a marriage.
Yamato, still nursing his first drink, has already noticed this. His gaze slides away from the miserable, hunched-over Taichi and focuses on an autographed picture of The Wolves which hangs on the wall. Taichi exhales an audible sigh and Yamato turns back to his friend. Dragging it on like this - was it cruel? He slides his glass in small circles on the bar and berates himself for his selfishness. Taichi's loyalty was unwavering, but based on false pretenses. Yamato imagines Taichi's response if he confessed - "I don't want you as a friend." There'd be confusion, then anger - Taichi always responded with unbound energy - and then awkward apologies and they'd drift away. But Taichi would recover, and probably be better for it.
That's what he should do. It's in Taichi's best interest; there's no way he can afford the apartment's expenses on his pathetic salary. Besides that (Yamato shifts uncomfortably on the bar stool in an attempt to control certain, disobliging part of his anatomy), it's not fair to tie himself to Taichi. Taichi shouldn't be bound to him - Taichi needed someone more normal, someone with less problems, someone female.
Taichi suddenly sits up. He cracks his back and rolls his shoulders and then spreads his lips into a broad grin. "Man, we suck at celebrating! We should have a party or something - not sit around an empty bar like idiots. Wanna call Takeru? Or Sora? Jyou's busy, and Koushiro too, actually, but I bet everyone else is around."
"No," the word comes out harder than he intended; Taichi's eyes open wide in surprise. Yamato smiles carelessly and casually runs a hand through his hair to smooth over the hole he's ripped in the conversation. "It's late already, and you're drunk enough as it is. Besides, we're having a get-together tomorrow, remember?"
Taichi scrunches his face as he searches for the memory. His tongue slips out of his mouth and runs over his lips, as if making Yamato's heart and guts lurch into overdrive could help him sort through his thoughts. "Right," he says at last, "Sorry. You know how bad I am with dates. I need to get a calendar or something."
He doesn't say that it's been Yamato who's kept Taichi on schedule. The unspoken words sit heavily in his chest, and Taichi tosses back the last of his drink in an attempt to settle them. The alcohol mixes unpleasantly with whatever else he has in side him - he closes his eyes briefly to contain all the things that want to come spilling out. Like lunch. "Urg," he mumbles and pulls himself off the stool, "Ready to go home."
He fumbles for his wallet, but Yamato's faster and pays the bill before Taichi can get the money out. Taichi looks pitifully at Yamato, who gives him another sharp grin. "Last time I cover your tab," he says. He waves his hand dismissively; the gesture is meant to dispel Taichi's opposition, but it's also an attempt to banish the once-again blossoming desire to simply tip Taichi over the bar's counter and have his way with him.
Another pitiful look. "I owe you," Taichi replies, the words slurred around the edges.
They move toward the door, Taichi wobbling and banging into Yamato on occasion, but neither of them moving away from each other. Yamato tells himself that he needs to be near enough to Taichi to catch him if he stumbles, but the excuse is flimsy - Taichi's far from being that drunk.
He should end it. The sooner the better. He opens his mouth to put his foot down, but then Tiachi turns his wide, woefully beautiful eyes on him and Yamato snaps his mouth shut. "What?" He manages to grind out at last, but doesn't wait for a respnse. He pushes out the door and onto the street, his feet moving him quickly down the sidewalk.
Taichi's footsteps are heavy and uneven. "Hey, wait up. I was only gonna ask if you wanted to go anywhere else. With me. I mean..." He pauses and rubs a hand through his mess of hair. "I mean, do anything special. I mean..."
Yamato mimics Taichi's gesture unconsciously and tries not to look too deeply into Taichi's offer. "Let's just go home."
They walk in silence. The streets are empty and quiet and calm, allowing Yamato to focus all his attention inwardly. He ponders the various ways he can sever the ties, but none of them are satisfying and all of them too hard to do. Stop answering his cell phone? Pretend to be too successful to return home? Change personalities?
Yamato just can't. He just can't not be in love with Taichi. He'd live his whole life the weight of a one-sided love if need be; loving Taichi is a part of him, like an arm or a leg.
Even though it's torture - what with Taichi so close and soon to be so far. He steal a kiss and blame it on the alcohol - he'll be gone for weeks, maybe months, plenty of time for them to try to forget about it and even laugh about it, should it ever come up. Yamato seriously considers this, particularly when Taichi's hands brushes his or, and damn, and he's doing this now, puts his arm around Yamato's shoulder (in a friendly manner, Yamato tries to convince himself, because that's the sort of friendly, outgoing person that Taichi is).
"You don't mind do ya? Feel sorta dizzy. Shouldn't have mixed beer and gin."
The devil sitting on Yamato's shoulder pushes him into action; he wraps on arm around Taichi's waist, looping his fingers in a belt loop, "Goddamn, you'll take me down with you."
Silence again, broken only by their awkward footsteps. Embaressed by the show of affection, Yamato stares determinedly out into the night, desperate to avoid Taichi's gaze.
Taichi, for his part, is oblivious of the tension. He's silent because he's busy putting on foot in front of the other. He's breathing heavily from the effort - Yamato can feel the warmth of his exhales. Yamato grits his teeth. He has to end this; he'll die if he has to put up with much longer. He's heart's already ramming against his ribs, his stomach's doing cartwheels, and he's practically dripping with sweat. And then there's the yearning, a constant tug in his soul.
Somehow they make it back to the apartment - a miracle in and of itself. Yamato untangles himself from Taichi and unlocks their door. They stumble into the darkened room; Taichi flails for a moment, then grabs onto Yamato's shoulder to steady himself. Yamato can feel Taichi's fingers burning through his shirt and he curses inwardly before shaking Taichi off.
Taichi's looking woeful again, Yamato turns away, mumbling "I'll get you some asprin" as a sort of apology. He hurries into the bathroom, then rests his head against the cool tiles for a moment, collecting his wild thoughts and reining in his wild emotions. His fingers shaking slightly, Yamato rifles through the medicine cabinet, moving the toothpaste and dental floss to grab the aspirin.
When he ventures out, he finds Taichi leaning over the kitchen sink, staring morosely at an overflowing glass of water. When he hears Yamato approach, he startles and grins sheepishly as he turns off the faucet. "Guess I'm still wasted."
There's a lump in Yamato's throat, so rather than speaking, he just holds out the pills. Taichi reaches for them, the tips of his fingers brushing softly against Yamato's palm.
Yamato gasps in spite of himself, then scowls deeply. "I'm going to bed."
"Wait." Taichi's faster than him, and before Yamato can dodge out of the way, Taichi grabs his hand. The two aspirin clatter on the floor rather dramatically, and Yamato watches them slide under the sink. He finally lifts his head and looks at Taichi with what he hopes is a bored, disinterest expression on his face. The grip on his wrist loosens slightly, but Taichi doesn't let him go.
They stand like that for a moment before Taichi lets go and takes a step backwards. "Sorry," he shrugs and looks away, "I'm drunk."
Yamato returns the shrug. "Whatever." He gives Taichi another second to explain himself, but when Taichi remains motionless and silent, Yamato shrugs for a second time and moves out of the kitchen to the area that doubles as a bedroom and tv room. He unrolls his futon quickly, but then stares at his blankets, debating a variety of actions.
"Look, I'm sorry." Taichi sounds like a petulant child. "You're leaving in two days and I fucked up your last night here."
"Don't worry about it." Yamato doesn't turn around. "Let's just get some sleep." He lies down, fully dressed, on top of the bedding, and pushes his face into his pillow to block out the image of Taichi undressing. He used to watch him - perverse, sick bastard that he was - watch Taichi's casual movements as he pulled off shirts and socks and pants. It was simply too much, even hearing the russle of cloth was distracting.
"Sure you don't want to do anything else before you go to sleep? Shitty way to celebrating, going to bed early."
"I'm sure." Yamato's voice is muffled on account that he's practically suffocating himself on his pillow. "Good night."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
"Really sure?"
Irritation replaces arrousal and Yamato lifts himself up on his elbows. "Alright, Yagami. What the hell do you want to do?"
Taichi has an odd look on his face - regret and... "This is your last night here."
"Does that mean you're finding a new roommate?"
"You really want me to, don't you?"
"I don't care. It's your choice."
"Yours too."
Yamato sighs. "What do you want from me, Taichi? I'm not going to pay for this place if I'm not living here, and you can't afford rent by yourself. Be reasonable for once."
Taichi flares at Yamato's off-hand insult. "Hey, I'm just trying to be nice. On account that we're friends. If you're going to be an asshole about it, then forget it."
"Fine."
"Fine. Good." Taichi rips the cover off his futon and throws himself onto it. "Good," he growls again, "At least we're agreeing on something now."
There's a pause that stretches a millennia; Yamato hopes that Taichi's fallen asleep, but after thirty or so heartbeats, Taichi speaks up again. "Hey, you'll be gone for what, five months?"
The anger's dissipated. "Sort of. I have days off, though, so I'll be able to see everyone from time to time."
"So you will need a place to stay."
"I told you, don't make your decision on my account. Do whatever the hell you want to do."
"As long as it's what you want," Taichi says wryly.
Yamato doesn't dignify this with a response.
"You don't want to come back, do you?" When Yamato remains silent, Tiachi pushes forward, "This is the end, isn't it?"
Yamato can hear the soft hum of the refrigerator and the muted voices of their neighbors. He listens rather than speaking; Taichi slams his hand on the ground, livid again. "Fine. Just fucking fine. If this is the end, then I guess I can finally do this."
Yamato raises his eyebrows in puzzlement and opens his mouth to ask Taichi to clarify, but before the words are formed, Taichi's lips crash down onto his. Shocked as he is, he manages to kiss back, grabbing Taichi's waist with trembling fingers, digging into the soft skin and feeling the firm muscles below.
They scramble to touch each other and Yamato pulls Taichi's hips down to grind against his own and Taichi pushes his fingers into Yamato's hair and there's no turning back down, thank God. The kiss, hungry and desperate, until their breathes are spent.
Taichi speaks first, his voice low and husky, "For so long-"
"Me too."
"We're idiots."
"I know."
Taichi rolls to his side, but their bodies don't part. "I've been trying to figure you out-"
"You never seemed interested."
"You never seemed interested."
"Fuck," Taichi nuzzles against Yamato's neck, tracing kisses along the silky skin of his throat. "You'll come back?"
Yamato inhales sharply. "Yes. And yes." He drags his hands upwards, over Taichi's ribs and to his broad shoulders. Taichi groans and presses against him, practically panting. "Every chance I get."
Hearts are thrumming in concert, with murmurs of prayers and curses whose volume rises and falls. In the morning, Yamato will think of more musical puns, but rather than wake Taichi to share in the guilty pleasure that is paronomasia, he lets himself fall back asleep in Taichi's arms.