Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Fine Art ❯ Grass, Keys, Boxers, and Cake ( Chapter 7 )

Another hard chapter! Ken's such a difficult character! Arg!

Ken: Hey, at least I'm finally in the story!

Dai: Yes you are, you sexy bitch.

Ken: *blushes* Dai...

Anywho, yeah.

~*~

"Hey Daisuke, good practice."

"Huh? Oh thanks Asuka." I had been sitting on the soccer field, idly chewing a piece of grass daydreaming when he called me. I shook my head and returned to reality. "Yeah, it was pretty good. Did you see my killer bicycle kick?'

Asuka chuckled. "How could I miss it? It was pretty sweet all right."

"Damn straight." I said, returning my attention back to the half-chewed piece of grass.

"See you tomorrow then?"

"Yeah, bye." I waved at Asuka, and then at the rest of my teammates. I had soccer practice three times a week, for a few hours after school. Soccer was what I loved, besides eating and playing video games.

Sometimes, if I was lucky, Taichi would come to my practices, and we'd play a game afterwards. He used to bring Hikari, but ever since she and Takeru had hooked up, she'd abandoned me.

I didn't mind though.

I stood up and spit the grass out. "Gross," I murmured as I wiped my mouth, "When did I start eating grass?" I was alone, finally, and free for the rest of the afternoon.

I grabbed my backpack, a sleeping Chibimon inside, and slung it over my shoulder. I had two choices of things to do after I changed out of my uniform. I could either go home or go to Ken's.

It was a no brainer, even for me.

~~~

I went to Ken's apartment a lot. His parents liked me, correction, his parent's loved me. I was welcome at any hour, whether Ken was there or not. They took me on family outings, much to Ken's humiliation, and bought me presents on holidays.

I would show up after school, chat with Ken's mom until he came home from genius land, or wherever he had spent his day, then bother him for a few hours until I had to go home. Sometimes, if his parent's weren't working, they'd give me a lift home, or sometimes my parents would pick me up, but usually I took the train. When I did, Ken would walk me there, a gesture that spoke a thousand times more than he did.

I had just reached Ken's floor when his mother came barreling down the hall. "Daisuke!" She exclaimed as she ran me over. "Sorry, I didn't see you there!"

"It's okay Mrs. Ichijouji," I stood up, rubbing my head and grinning at her. "I'm okay."

"That's good." She sighed, relieved. "Ken's not home yet, but he will be soon." She stopped, looking at me thoughtfully. "Today's not his soccer game, is it?"

"Uh," I tried to remember. "No, don't think so."

"Then he should be back from school in about a half an hour. Here," she stuck her hand into her purse, "You can use this spare key to let yourself in. You don't mind waiting, do you?"

"Er, of course not!" I took the key, holding it in wonder. This had to mean something. It had to be one of those milestones. "Thank you very much. Have a good day at work!"

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart." She smiled. "Now, I've got to get going. Help yourself if you're hungry, you know where everything is!" With a wave, she disappeared around the corner.

I dangled the key in front of my eyes, frowning at it. Then, with a pleased smile, I marched to Ken's door and let myself in.

~~~

"We're moving on up, Chibimon!" I did a little dance. "Not bad. A key of our own."

"That was nice of her," Chibimon said as he climbed out of my backpack. "Now we can come whenever we want!"

I turned on the lights and closed the door behind me. "Hey, this is cool." I grinned evilly. "Do you know what this means?"

"No," My Digimon blinked up at me expectedly, "What does it mean, Dai?"

I shrugged. "Beats me, it's just cool."

Minomon peaked out of Ken's room. "Daisuke? Chibimon?"

"Minomon!" The two Digimon ran towards each, collided, and landed in a pile of giggles.

I scooped them into my arms and kicked Ken's door open. "Total freedom!" Suddenly I had an urge to know something. A very particuarly something. I didn't want to figure out what the something was, but I wanted to know if it was true or not. I paused, baffled by my repeated and totally unclear thoughts. Shrugging I decided to forget my reasons and continue with my action. "Hey Minomon, Ken doesn't have a diary or anything that I could go through, does he?"

"Nope." Minomon shook his head. "Sorry Daisuke."

"That's okay." I placed them gently on the floor. "I'll just search through his drawers."

Humming one of Yamato's newest songs, I pawed through Ken's stuff.

Nothing.

"What are you looking for Dai?" Chibimon asked curiously.

"Don't know." I replied with a frown.

"Oh."

I opened another drawer and stared down at Ken's clothes. "He folds his underwear?" I pulled out a pair of plain white boxers and frowned at them. "Figures." The material was cool and soft under my fingers. I ran my hand over it, marveling and thinking. Ken would wear plain, dull, uniform boxers. He liked wearing things that made him bland. So people would leave him alone, most likely. If I was smart, I'd know why he was the way he was. But I wasn't, so I sort of felt the reasons behind his actions, but I could never pinpoint them. I caressed the fabric again. Ken wore these boxers. And under them, he'd be naked...

I dropped the boxers.

And took a step backwards.

Where the hell were these thoughts coming from?

I was sick.

Sighing, I folded it neatly and pushed it back into place. Think normal thoughts! I commanded my fantasies to leave me alone. "He's lucky he has such a cool friend," I told the Digimon. "My boxers are much more interesting."

The Digimon nodded silently, probably wondering what underwear was.

I stopped looking for whatever I was looking for. "I guess I should probably respect his privacy, huh?" Probably. Suddenly feeling guilty, I closed his drawers and scooted away from them.

"I'll be in the kitchen if you guys need me," I told the Digimon as I headed out, "Don't cause any trouble."

My house was full of photographs. Jun had gotten a camera for her thirteenth birthday, and she fancied herself a sort of professional artist. The only reason she had wanted the camera was because she needed it for when she stalked guys. But I guess all the stalking had made her a decent picture taker, and our walls were littered with her photos. She stopped with her photography stuff when she turned sixteen. I suppose she thought herself too old to be hanging out with her family. I didn't mind it, though. When Jun started refusing to come on family trips, my parent's had stopped them all together. That was good. Less time with the folks meant more time for me to be with my friends.

Hikari took pictures too. I liked Hikari's better, because I liked Hikari better. Her pictures were of me, or me with the rest of the group. They were more light-hearted than Jun's.

Ken's walls were empty and hauntingly white.

The first time Ken came over, he marveled over the photographs. "So many memories!" He had exclaimed. It was weird, that he thought that our lives were interesting, interesting enough to stare at, but I had remained silent. He didn't want to remember his past, and neither did his parents. I had only seen one picture of his dead brother Osamu, and it was a simply framed photo that Ken kept on his desk.

They looked a lot alike. Ken and Osamu had the same strange dark amethyst eyes, and the same dark sapphire hair. Only Ken wore his down, in an almost girly fashion, where Osamu had spikes, kind of like my own mess of a style.

Ken spiked his hair too, once upon a time. When he was the Digimon Emperor, he looked a like his brother.

And that scared him.

Ken hardly ever spoke of his brother, not unless I brought it up, and I tried not to. I hated hurting Ken.

I made my way into Ken's kitchen, and opened his fridge. After staring into its innards for a few seconds, I concluded that he had nothing decent to eat.

With a sigh, I slammed the door closed and stood on tiptoe in order to explore his freezer.

"Success! Popsicles!" I grabbed a popsicle, unwrapped it as quickly as I could and popped it into my mouth. "Yum. Frozen goodness." I decided to take another, in case I lost the first one. I began to stroll around Ken's apartment again, my head full of wonders and my hands full of cold happiness on sticks.

Suddenly, Ken's front door clicked.

I sucked on my popsicle and tried to think of reason why a door would make such bizarre noises. Duh... Ken? Ken! It was Ken, putting his key in! Pleased with my discovery, I bounced to the door, and flung it open with a grin.

Ken blinked, staring at where the door had been. His key, clenched in his hand, hovered in mid air. "What the...?"

"Hi Ken!" I said, still grinning. "What's up?"

"Daisuke?" Ken blinked a few more times. "Hello."

"Hi." I said again. "Hey, do you want a popsicle?"

Ken blinked some more. "Do you mind moving?" He said at last. "I want to come inside."

"Huh? Oh sorry." I stepped to the side, allowing Ken to enter.

Ken nodded his thanks and walked into his apartment, me trailing behind him. "Is my mother home?"

"Nope." I answered, slurping on my popsicle. "She went to work. So do you want this popsicle or not? It's starting to melt all over me."

Ken turned, a whisper of a smile on his lips. "Sure Dai," he said, taking it from me. "And thank you."

"No problem, they're your popsicles anyway."

Ken smiled again and lowered himself into a chair at his kitchen table. "So what is it that you need help with today, Daisuke?" He asked, all business. "Algebra again?"

"Of course." I dropped myself into the chair next to him. "But what else is new?"

"Not much." Ken delicately licked the popsicle. "So, would you like to get started?"

"No, not really." I said honestly. "At least, not yet." The last thing I wanted to do was homework. I would have preferred getting my teeth pulled. Math was hard for me; granted all classes were, but math in particular was difficult. There was a quote in our school hallway, something along the lines of: "Philosophy is a game with objectives and no rules. Math is a game with rules and no objectives". I totally agreed with that. Only I wasn't so hot in philosophy either.

"I'm guessing you don't ever want to do it."

"Damn straight!" I said, banging my fist on his table. Ken leaned on one upright arm, smiling at me. The moment was perfect, and the image of him burned permanently in my head. I made a mental note to draw a picture of the scene when I returned home. My silence must have disturbed Ken; he raised an eyebrow, a curious, expecting smile on his pale face. I snapped back and grinned at him, buying time to think of some way to prove my innocence. "Tell me about your day."

Ken's eyebrow arched higher. "Okay," he complied hesitantly, "I went to school, went to my classes, and then, for an exciting finish to an equally exciting day, I came home."

"That story sucked." I complained as I bit into my popsicle. "Tell it again, but make it good this time."

Ken's other eyebrow rose. "Why are you so interested in my day?"

I shrugged and stared at him. "Geez, you're so paranoid. I was just asking." I wasn't acting gay, was I? A fear settled in my stomach. He probably suspected...

That what?

I had already been over the facts. I wasn't gay. Ken was a friend. Nothing more.

When Ken said nothing, I rambled on. "So anyway, what do you think about art?"

"What kind of art?"

"You know," I struggled for a definition. "Art."

Ken sighed. "Art like in a museum?"

"Sure." I polished off my popsicle and broke the stick in half. "Like art in a museum."

"I admire the great artists," Ken replied, looking at me with a strange expression, "But I have no personnel artistic talents."

"But do you think it's lame?"

"I wouldn't admire them if I thought they were lame."

"I guess that's true." I leaned back in my chair. "So does that mean you go to the art museum every week?"

Ken narrowed his eyes. "No," he said, giving me another strange expression, "I've only been there once or twice."

"So will you bring me sometime?" Did I say that? I had actually asked to go to a museum. And not just any museum, but an art museum. After pondering over my insanity, I concluded that I had fallen on my head during soccer practice.

"Sure Daisuke." Ken looked equally taken aback. "Whenever you want."

"Great!" I grinned crookedly. "Now I'm ready to tackle math."

~~~

"And then you subtract the square root."

"But why?"

Ken tapped his pencil against my homework. "To make y equal zero."

"Why does y have to equal zero?"

"Because you're solving for x."

I stared at the paper, the numbers running into each other as I crossed my eyes. "Numbers and letters shouldn't be combined."

"Daisuke," Ken ran a hand through his hair, "You need to concentrate and stop complaining."

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Thanks, oh powerful and mighty math super-star. But I like complaining. It's one thing I'm good at."

"Maybe we should just call it a night..." Ken stood up and stretched. "My back's beginning to hurt."

I stared harder at the paper in front of me. Why was I so stupid? Why couldn't I just understand? Poor Ken, I glanced up at him, he tried too hard. I wasn't worth putting effort into. "Okay," I said slowly, giving my math homework one last chance to explain itself, "I guess I should head home."

Ken looked down at me hopefully. "On a second thought, you could stay for dinner," he suggested.

I hid a grin. The more time with Ken, the better. "I'm all for it," I said, pushing away the math paper. "We can play video games and-"

"We can keep working on your math."

I sighed, crestfallen. "Ken," I whined, "I don't wanna."

Ken laughed and picked up his phone. "I refuse to make you anything to eat until you finish your homework."

"Yes mommy."

Ken dialed a number, then tucked the phone under his ear. His inky hair slid over the plastic receiver in an amazing sexy manner.

I stopped, rewound, and erased the thought.

Maybe staying over wasn't such a good idea, I thought faintly as I stared at Ken. It was too late now though, Ken was already asking his mother. I sighed and tore my eyes away.

"Here Daisuke," Ken passed me his phone. "You can call your parents."

"Thanks." I took it, dialing my number. After a few rings, my sister picked up the phone.

"Yama?" She shrieked across the phone lines.

"No, it's me." I burst her bubble. "Hey, I'm staying over Ken's house for dinner. Tell the folks, okay?"

"Yeah yeah, whatever. Is that all? I'm waiting for Yama to call and you're holding up the line."

"Yamato won't call, Jun." I hung up the phone and rolled me eyes.

Ken grinned at me. "Denial is a wonderful thing sometimes."

I shook my head. "I think Jun has a serious mental problem."

Ken nodded. "I'd have to agree with you," he said as he began to take pots out of his cupboard. "Now, what do you want to eat?"

I stood up and began to search through the cupboards with him. "What can you make?"

"Pretty much anything."

"Cake?"

Ken looked at me over his shoulder. "You can't have cake for dinner."

"Why not?"

Ken's mouth opened, and then after hanging for a second, closed. "All right." He said with a laugh, "You made an excellent argument Motomiya. Cake it is."

"Yes!" I cheered, throwing my hands up in the air in celebration before I fell back into my chair. "It had better be chocolate."