Title: Actively Dying
Rating: PG-13 (may increase later)
Description: A look into the darker side of life. Yamato comes to rescue his little brother only to find out that his brother isn’t the one who needs rescuing.
Authors Notes: AU, obviously, unless I missed the episode where Takeru and Daisuke hooked up with Ken’s crime consortium. You know, maybe I did miss it. But then again, this could just be my sarcastic nature taking over yet another part of my life. ;)
Have you ever done anything you’ve regretted at a later date? Of course you have; we all have. But then, I don’t suppose this is the same as running off to a concert late at night or trying to paint the cat. I wish I could say that I possess the moral superiority to hate everything and everyone connected to this part of my life. But I cannot, and if that condemns me, then so be it.
Yamato frowned yet again at the cryptic words of his brother’s letter. Leave it to Takeru to be anything but obvious. Folding the paper just as he had first found it, he slipped it into its envelope, pausing only momentarily to run a finger over the half removed postage stamp. Then, with a quick look over his shoulder, he folded the envelope in half and stuffed it into his front pocket. It had spent much of this trip more comfortably in the back, but his current whereabouts gave Yamato the distinct impression that even a stained letter could be taken is something worthy of a pick.
Besides, it would not be very suave to loose his one and only clue this early in the game.
A second glance around told Yamato that he was no longer so alone as he had been just seconds before. A young boy was now standing under the street lamp, barely ten paces away, and eyeing him openly with an ugly glare; well-worn goggles hanging limp around his neck. When the boy noticed Yamato’s eyes were now on him as well, his scowl grew even darker. It was all Yamato could do to keep from taking this stranger up on his silent challenge. But then, starting a fight with street punk was definitely not part of the plan. It had taken countless hours of preparation, not to mention the months of wheedling on Jyou just to get this chance and he was not about to throw that all away because some jerk was giving him the evil eye. With a shrug, Yamato turned and walked into the seedy looking bar on his left.
Daisuke allowed his eyes to close for a long second, fighting the pain that was trying to build in his chest. No wonder Ken had been so excited about this one. He forced himself up into a straighter position before walking into the same bar.
Sure enough, there was the same blonde, sitting exactly where he had been told, eyeing the telltale drink with distaste. Daisuke slid on to the stool next to him; almost smiling at the momentarily startled looked that passed over the pale features.
“I’m expecting someone.” Yamato seemed to get both his voice and courage back a second later.
“No shit.” Daisuke motioned for the bartender before turning his attention back to Yamato. “Motomiya Daisuke,” he informed, holding out a hand. After a second’s hesitation, Yamato took it with his own.
“Mmm?” The least he would have expected was a alias, something to make the game a tad more interesting, “I take it you’re Kido’s friend.” Daisuke tried for a second time to wave down the bartender, only to slump in defeat with a gusty sigh as he was ignored yet again.
“Yes,” Yamato nodded, keeping his eyes trained on the untouched drink on the bar in front of him. He heard the red headed man mumble something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like fool, but it was not until Daisuke actually got up to leave that Yamato realized that the insult was aimed at him, and not at the errant barkeep.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Yamato questioned, sliding around on his barstool, watching for Daisuke’s response. None was forthcoming. Without even a glance in Yamato’s direction, Daisuke turned and started to walk out of the dank pub. Yamato stormed after the boy, catching up with him just as he the entrance, spinning him around and pushing him hard against the door’s frame.
Those damn eyes, and, as if on cue, there it is again, that goddamned pain.
Daisuke took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for the barest of seconds before dropping to study the wood planked floor. Yamato was unsure as to whether Daisuke’s sudden change in demeanor was due to their change in position or because he was trying to keep his own temper in check. Regardless, when Daisuke finally looked up, his eyes had taken on a cold, almost dead appearance.
“Don’t do this. Just walk away. Please.” The words were so soft, spoken so quickly, that Yamato had to struggle to hear them, even in the nearly empty bar. Almost with out his permission, Yamato’s hard grasp on the heavy flannel hooded shirt Daisuke was wearing began to loosen. As if on cue, Daisuke’s eyes dropped back to study the floor.
“Look,” Yamato admitted hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to hurt you or frighten you or,” he paused, unsure what it was exactly, that he was trying to say, “…or anything,” he finished awkwardly, finally releasing his grip on Daisuke’s clothing, “Really. It’s just that my friend told me you would take me to someone. He said there was work up here.” Yamato paused; hopping Daisuke would look up one more time. He did not. “I’ve come a long way,” Yamato tried again, “I just want what I was promised from the start.”
At first, it did not seem as if Daisuke had any intention of responding, that the conversation that Yamato thought that he was having was not occurring at all. The two of them just continued to stand there, not quite in the doorway, but then again, not quite out. Daisuke refused to look up from what was proving to be the most interesting floor in the universe and Yamato was not yet ready to accept defeat and go home.
“’Scuse me,” a none-too-sober man squeezed past them both, walking uncertainly toward the bar, stopping at this table and that, saying hello in the most friendly of manners to people who, even if they had not been completely wasted, probably would not have recognized him. Yamato allowed his eyes to follow the scene to its conclusion before turning back to the still non-responsive Daisuke with a sigh.
"Do—" Yamato began, only to have his words cut short.
“Shut up.” Daisuke was still staring at the floor, his voice low, “Just—Shut up.” Daisuke cocked his head to the side, his eyes focusing on something Yamato could not identify, “No. The answer is no.”
“Ah--?” Yamato questioned softly. Daisuke glanced in his direction at the quite noise before glancing back over to his right with a light snigger, “I’m telling you, it would never work,” Daisuke smiled, “You’re a nutcase. Screwball. Lunatic.” He paused for a long moment before chuckling, “Thesaurus, my ass.”
“Hey, kid,” Yamato began carefully, “I don’t know--,” only to stop short at Daisuke’s fierce glare and sharp bark.
“Shut-up!” Again, Daisuke looked to his right before focusing his attention back on Yamato with a grim sigh. “It’s crazy, you know?” He paused momentarily before continuing, “Just—“ he seemed to be fighting something deep inside of himself, “Why can't we just go home?”
Yamato considered the quiet, if strange, question carefully, stepping away from where Daisuke stood and walking a little distance down the pedestrian filled side walk before glancing over his shoulder to where Daisuke still waited, watching him carefully, “Maybe it is crazy," Yamato shook his head, "No, it is crazy.” He gave a snide smile at Daisuke’s narrow eyed glare, “But I don’t care. I’m not leaving.”
At first Yamato did not believe that Daisuke was going to respond to the obvious goad, watching as the younger man shot a knowing look over his right shoulder before stepping in Yamato’s direction with a mirthless chuckle, “God,” Daisuke threw his hands up in the air in a gesture of mocking surrender, “You fucking blonds are all such idiots!”
They were the last words that Yamato would hear for a very long time.
To Be Continued...