Author notes: This was originally posted to the Daisukeken Mailing List, and is my entry for Nemesi-Chan's contest. It is the first of 2 chapters, and the second chapter will be coming shortly. As one might expect from me, this is Kensuke of the most blatant sort.
You can tell I don't own Digimon: if I did, this would be how season 02 ends.
To Nemesi: when I sat down to devise the plot, I tried to keep as many of your suggestions in mind as I could. Unfortunately, that did not include a magical Kaizer... *smiles* Maybe another time, eh? Anyways, sweetie: this story is for YOU.
Technical Detail: if you are reading this on the Daisukeken ML, please be aware that I went crazy with the italics, and it only gets worse as I go on. I tried to encase as many of these moments with indicators (such as "*" or "="), but I'm sure I missed some. Even more damning, I don't like the way those little indicators look. Distracting! So, I will post this story to Fanfiction.Net as well... all italics will be intact.
Literary Detail: the title of the story refers to a poem by T.S. Eliot. More on this when I post the second part. MAJOR brownie points to the first person who can accurately identify the poem!
And now... on with the show!

What the Sibyl Said
(rated R for Language, Smuttiness, and Digitude)

We lay on the bed there
Kissing just for practice
Could we please be objective?
Cause the other boys are queuing up behind us
A hand over my mouth
A hand over the window
Well, if I remain passive and you just want to cuddle
Then we should be ok, and we won't get into trouble
Cause we're seeing other people
At least that's what we say we are doing

Belle and Sebastian, Seeing Other People


…

Knowledge is ignorance.
It was a marvelous spring day in Odaiba, after the sakura trees had come out, but before the heat of summer. On a high hill in a public park, two of the most world-weary Digidestined were having a debate.
"Eww!"
"You have to choose, Miyako. It's the rules."
"I know…but the emotional fuckwittery of it all astounds me. ." Miyako stuck out her tongue at Takeru, who was grinning expectantly. "Umm. If I =had= to sleep with either Sora or Mimi…hmm… I'd choose Mimi."
The two adolescents-Takaishi Takeru and Inoue Miyako-were sitting carelessly on the sunny side of the hill, looking down over the children playing on the swings and other outdoor gymnastic equipment. Takeru was sitting with a leg hooked over Miyako's ankle in a very casual, friendly way. Both were dressed in the sharp green uniform of Odaiba High School, sitting on the delicate new grass without much concern for propriety or manners. In fact, Miyako barely seemed concerned that her skirt was riding up and showing off quite a bit of leg… and a little bit of panties!… to the mass of public who could =potentially= be gawking from below.
They were not dating. They were not secret lovers. Neither was nursing a secret flame for the other. The only thing they shared was a complete lack of shame, which they were executing quite brilliantly at that moment.
"Mimi? She's pretty enough, but damn. Sora's not =bad= and then you don't get saddled with that 100-watt Disney Mind of Mimi's."
"Mimi's not any sillier then Yamato. Or =you=, for that matter. She just doesn't bother to hide her enthusiasm under a veneer of coolness like you and your brother do. Or-- TRY to do."
"Ouch!"
Miyako flicked the ashes of her cigarette off to the side, a practiced maneuver. "Sora and Mimi are like two parts of myself, you know. Or I'm kind of like a blend of the two of THEM. Any insult directed at either one is like unto an insult directed to me. Thus sayeth me."
Takeru laughed. "Oohh… now I get it… the uncharacteristic reluctance! The feigned blush! The great Inoue Miyako may revel in her bisexual status, but she draws the line at fucking her spiritual sisters. What a comfort! The world rests easier knowing that your sexual voraciousness is limited only by the bounds of your ego."
Wisely, Miyako ignored this. The two sat in silence for a little bit, a comfortable silence-until Miyako spied something interesting.
"Here comes Daisuke! Who's the girl he's with?"
"Keiko… she's a freshman."
"Hey! She's not bad!"
Wearing the same green uniform of Miyako and Takeru, Daisuke walked along the path slowly… very slowly. His arm was snugged around the waist of an adorable, fresh-faced girl of 14, and his fingers were hitched just under the band of her skirt. He looked rumpled, unkempt, and content.
Takeru looked smug. "I'm surprised you hadn't heard. She's the daughter of an automobile tycoon. By far, Daisuke's most impressive catch to date."
Miyako shook her head. "You are forgetting about Anya."
"The Russian? She looked like a porn star."
Snorting in contempt, Miyako almost choked on her cigarette. "Whatever. She was tall, delicate, with such pretty dark hair…."
This was another game. Takeru took it up eagerly: the conclusion was inevitable, but always satisfying. "Ah…yes. The stereotypical Daisuke Girl. Dark. Pouty lips, heartbreaking eyes…"
"…blue is best…"
".Of course! Her skin must be pale…"
"..creamy!"
Takeru and Miyako began to lean in towards each other. She blew smoke in his face, and he coughed a little. Both of them were grinning like mad.
"She is smart!" Takeru declared.
"Tragic!" Miyako added.
"Oh Daisuke Girl! You tear my heart out with your terrible beauty, your fragile grace!" Takeru placed a hand over his heart, and pretended to look yearning.
"Your lack of a sense of humor!" Miyako, also with hand over heart, took up the ode.
"Your dependence on Prozac for basic functioning!"
"Your excellent taste in clothing!"
"Your exotic past!"
Miyako and Takeru began to giggle, and fell to the grass, while Daisuke and his new girlfriend walked along far below, oblivious to the kind-hearted teasing going on above him. They lay like this for quite a while, paroxysms of laughter erupting just when the prior spate of giggles subsided. This went on for several minutes. They almost completely missed the spectacle of Daisuke making out, but that was okay. It wasn't anything they hadn't seen before anyway.
Once the laughter was well and truly finished, Takeru turned to look at Miyako, a mask of mock solemnity cast over his face. "Dear, Dear Daisuke Girl. So unlike =anyone= else we have ever met before." A hint of sarcasm tainted his voice, but it was very slight. He might have found Daisuke's plight amusing, and his ignorance of it hilarious, but he loved Daisuke too much to be very severe on him.
Miyako smiled. This pronouncement ended the game, and signified the beginning of Gossip. "This pattern. So precious of him, don't you think? It would almost seem desperate, except that Daisuke sure looks like he enjoys the sex."
"Yeah, but that's all it is. Has he ever =loved= one of these girls?"
"Nah. He's pining for the Prototype. To bad he's too dense to realize this for himself."
Takeru ran his fingers through Miyako's hair, so pretty and glistening in the sunlight. It was nice to be a sensualist, a touchy-feely person. They could touch so many different people and no-one thought much of it. "Would you ever call him on it?"
"Never." Miyako breathed emphatically.
"How about 'the Prototype,' then. Do you think he'll ever get around to letting Daisuke know that he's gay?"
"I have serious doubts that Ken could do anything that decisive. He'd be too afraid. He's as much as confessed it to me himself… in a very oblique manner, to be sure. YOU know." Miyako thought back to that difficult time, a few years back, when Ken killed her crush on him with a broken little confession of his own.
Takeru was still brushing her hair back, and she returned the favour by stroking the side of his neck. Still not a romantic scene. Certain kinds of people, such as these two, just needed to be touched, and sought it out frequently.
"Here's something that I just don't know. Ken might be gay, but does he love Daisuke?" Takeru thought to ask.
"I wish I knew, TK. I wish I did."
++
"I'm sorry, Hikari-san. I can't fix this chain without the proper tools."
While the Odaiba Digidestined were casually gathering in the park, the outliers were struggling quite heroically to meet them. Hikari sat on a bench, sharp white oxford shirt tucked into a royal blue skirt. She held a blazer of the same color, keeping it safe for the very handsome young man sitting a few feet away from her. He was looking up at her apologetically, appearing truly regretful that his celebrated genius could not conjure a functional bicycle chain out of thin air, to replace the hopelessly broken one that was currently greasing up his hands.
"It's okay, Ken. You can ride ahead, and I'll walk. I'll get there eventually." Hikari smiled encouragingly, but she couldn't stifle a slight sigh. Odaiba was pretty far away without the assistance of wheels.
Ken frowned at this. "We're already late as it is."
"Yeah. But I can't think of any other way to do it. I don't have enough money to take the train AND get dessert."
Ken considered. "You could ride on my bike with me," he offered finally.
Hikari looked over to Ken's elegant, completely utilitarian bike. If it were equipped with a second seat, she failed to note it. "How?" she asked stupidly.
"On the handlebars. I'll go really slow…it'll be safe. You'll be wearing my helmet, of course." Ken said this last bit a little reproachfully. Hikari didn't have a helmet of her own, and refused to get one, despite his many tedious lectures on the subject.
"And force you to go without? That would be kind of cruel, don't you think?"
"I'll live," he said dryly.
Hikari looked down at her skirt and made a face. "I'll have to change, then."
"By all means, do."
Hikari walked back into the private school that the two former Saviors of the World had elected to attend. It still surprised Ken sometimes that Hikari was a classmate of his… it wasn't an easy trip for her, to come to the exclusive school right around the block from Ken's home.
Actually, it had surprised everyone, the day that she announced that she had applied to Hatsune Academy, and had been accepted. Takeru had been heartbroken, and Daisuke outraged-both of them assumed that her decision was rooted in a desire to get away from the complicated love triangle that had sprouted up ruthlessly between them.
In part, this was the case. Although Hikari's primary desire was to get the best education that her talents could garner, it was not without a pregnant sense of relief that she worked her way through the first year without the two boys pestering her. First Daisuke, and then Takeru, eventually moved on in their affections. This should have made her happy….
But it didn't. Ken thought about Hikari a lot these days. It was hard not to-she was the only one of his friends he saw every day (except weekends, which were reserved for Daisuke). As she stepped out of the school a few minutes later, Ken heaved a great sigh, a sigh of frustration and angst.
I AM gay. I should tell her. But I don't… because I've decided she's my girl to fall back on… if… if…
Ken was an ace at not answering his own "ifs."
"Are you ready?" he asked brightly.
"Yes."
++
Miyako and Takeru sat up in time to observe the final moments of Daisuke's makeout session, a beautiful display of unconcern and absolute horniness. He then ruffled the new girl's hair playfully, and turned to walk up the hill to join the two schemers. It was an inelegant, casual parting that appeared to pain the girl, who turned to leave slowly, after seeming to stop herself from saying something more.
Daisuke didn't notice.
"Hey!" he called cheerfully. He appeared to be suffused with happiness.
"You look well. I wonder why?" Takeru asked disingenuously.
"My grades are back from the math test! I can't wait to show them to Ken… I did really well, and he helped me with everything." With this, he brandished a sheaf of papers.
"I see!" Miyako said, stifling a laugh.
"I don't suppose your happiness has =anything= to do with the fair Keiko, who is so lately departed. Ne?" Takeru prompted playfully. He couldn't get enough of this.
Daisuke plopped down next to Miyako, on the far side of Takeru. "What does she have to do with anything?"
"Oh, just wondering." Takeru nudged Miyako, a tiny movement hidden from Daisuke's sight.
"You must be very proud," Miyako intoned seriously. "I know you worked so hard."
Daisuke stretched like a cat, raising his arms up above his head in a triumphant gesture of completion. "This past week…what rigours! I can't even tell you. I was sweating blood under Ken's exhaustive tutelage. I despaired of ever understanding this geometry, but with Ken's help, I persevered! I am THE champion of academics! Who would have thought?"
"Oh, you've always had it in you. You just needed someone =understanding= to bring it out of you." Takeru said, in a tone just insinuating enough that Miyako caught it. Daisuke remained oblivious.
"Ken is amazing, isn't he?" Daisuke enthused.
"Incredible." Miyako agreed gravely.
"He's also late," Takeru noted. " I wonder if he and Hikari are making out somewhere."
Daisuke blinked. "I don't think so.." he said slowly.
"Probably not," Takeru rejoined soothingly.
"Yeah." Daisuke smiled and then looked around. "Is Iori coming?"
"No… he has a big test tomorrow. He'll come next week, though."
Daisuke nodded. Takeru and Miyako also nodded. It was a nodding moment.
And then… it was a Ken moment! Daisuke saw Ken and Hikari first, coming in the entrance of the park very slowly. Hikari was riding on the handlebars of Ken's bike, kicking her legs casually out as Ken steered with intense concentration. As soon as Daisuke saw them, he got up and ran down the hill towards them, shouting like a banshee.
"I did it! I did it! I did it!" His voice trailing off as he retreated.
"I guess he did." Takeru said after a moment. Neither he nor Miyako bothered to get up to join their friends just then.
"Ohh, that was just too rich for words, wasn't it?"
"I feel kind of bad, exploiting the tragedy of this situation for my own amusement," Takeru said sourly, feeling a tiny bit ashamed of himself.
"It's not like we can intervene," Miyako said reasonably. "All we can do is prod the two of them artfully until one or the other breaks into revelation. I think it's a good and humane plan."
Daisuke caught up with the Hatsune High contingency, and was helping Hikari off the handlebars even as he appeared to be chatting it up animatedly with Ken.
"Ken or Daisuke?" Takeru asked Miyako, his moment of guilt having passed.
"Oh, Daisuke most definitely. You?"
"Tough one, but I think I'd go for Daisuke too. No weirdness."

"How so?"
"Oh you know, obsession with the darkness, painfully well-defined sexuality, angst galore. With Daisuke, it would just be about the sex. I think I could be fine with that."
"Takeru! Tell me you are gay! That was just TOO delicious!"
"Umm.. no. And it's really a shame, 'cause I'd be better at it then Ken... Look at him! He won't even let Daisuke hug him."
This observation was correct, as far as it went. Ken didn't exactly push Daisuke away when he impulsively went to hug him, but neither did he raise his arms to hug him back. He looked very stiff, even from far away.
"It's become more and more like that for Ken," Miyako said sadly. "He doesn't know how to act around Daisuke anymore."
Takeru nodded, and there was no trace of mockery or mirth in his face. "Poor Ken. This is killing him."
"Something is going to happen, and soon. With or without our prodding." Miyako said, taking a last puff on her cigarette. She then threw the butt off into the weeds somewhere.
"Yeah," Takeru agreed.
++
After dessert, Ken decided to walk Daisuke home, after some deliberation larded with hesitation, tinged with presumptive regret.
With the sun setting, it was a pretty moment. Daisuke had taken control of Ken's bike, and was scooting it along while Ken walked beside him, outwardly sedate. Ken wondered about Daisuke even more then he wondered about Hikari, and when he was being honest with himself, he would admit that it was far more exciting for him to think about his best friend in… =dangerous= ways.
For example… as Ken was unlocking his bike earlier, Daisuke sat on the seat. "Come home with me," he had begged. "I want to show you my new comic books."
"Um, okay." Ken had agreed quietly, after checking with Hikari to make sure that she was okay about getting home. His plan was to show up really early to school the next morning, and fix the bike for her. The Hikari situation was under control... so Ken was free to suffer through the complicated feelings that his sexuality and preferences incurred whenever he was around Daisuke.
Bah... I should only be friends with girls. They would never make me feel this way.
Ken shook his head slightly. And isn't that the problem? he thought bitterly.
It was just too nice to be like this, to walk so casually with Daisuke.
I could never tell him. He'll hate me.
And this would be the =real= problem.
"… so you see, the conclusion is inevitable. Takeru is insane."
Ken stretched to place a hand on the handlebar of his bike, stroking it absently. "Yeah?"
"Item: the way he flirts with Miyako." Because Ken's bike seat was too high up for Daisuke to touch the ground while sitting, he had to scootch off every time he slowed beyond the point that forward velocity could keep him stable. He did this now, slowing to accommodate Ken's grip on the bike.
"Why is that insane?" Ken's hand was just shy of the center of the bar, and he was reaching in front of Daisuke's arm to help stabilize the bike. That reach was hard, however, so his hand slipped to the side slowly.
"Um…dunno. It just seems weird. They don't =like= each other, right?"
"That's just the way they are" Ken said reasonably, his hand slipping even further as he leaned his body ever so slightly away from the bike, creating a tension that Daisuke had to counter. His dark hair shifted cleanly with the movement, a block of shimmering purple with thin wisps wafting in the breeze.
Daisuke smirked at Ken winningly. He knew the game… an intergalactic struggle for control of some random inanimate object! He leaned the bike away from Ken, whose fingers slipped along the rest of the bar until his hand was flush with the rubber handle, and flesh pressed flesh. "I'm not sure that it's normal."
"Is there any such thing?"
"As normal? Hmm.." Daisuke was swaying the bike randomly, trying to loosen Ken's hold. So far, all it had done was cause him to knock into Ken a few times. "Yeah. Normal is anything that you don't notice."
"What does that mean?" Ken found himself falling into a deceptive trance, asking Daisuke probing question that made the smaller boy think, to distract him from the reality that their hands were touching and that Ken was blushing.
Daisuke loved philosophy! He scrunched up his face, the tip of his pink tongue sticking out just so. "Let's say I'm cooking dinner, and you smell it. At first, everything is just so great, the scent of the curry and rice is making your mouth water. But once you get used to the smell, it disappears. That's what I mean."
"So, are you saying that before you stopped smelling dinner, it was =abnormal=? That seems kind of questionable to me."
"I mean, like on a societal scale. If people are doing something so much that no-one ever blinks, then it's normal. Most of the day-to-day things that people do are invisible, not even worth talking about, like brushing teeth or going to school. That's normal."
Ken looked over at Daisuke, a sidelong glance. "Is it =bad= to be abnormal, then?"
"I…don't… know." Daisuke said slowly, walking his fingers up Ken's arm with each word, a poke punctuating each syllable. He rounded it off by gently slapping Ken on the back of his neck, which caused Ken to startle, even though he was expecting it.
Ken turned his head slowly towards his friend, wondering if he could tell him the secret desires of his heart, those that had nothing to do with Daisuke, those that had everything to do with him. When Daisuke picked up his hand to tease Ken, the casual contact between the two of them ceased. According to Daisuke's own definitions, such touching was normal, because it wasn't even noticed.
But that's not the kind of normal I want. I want to be noticed…
I want to be =wanted=…
After staring into Daisuke's eyes for a long moment, working his throat uncomfortably, Ken dropped his gaze. Those fine brown eyes, rich caramel with amber edges, were so open and guileless. Daisuke was brightface, like a god, and it all stemmed from those perfect eyes. Can't say it. "Um. So what else is it about Takeru that you think is insane?" Ken asked, attempting nonchalance. Coward!
"Ah! Yes, yes. Just a sec. Do you wanna ride on the handlebar?" Daisuke asked, crinkling his eyes as he grinned impishly. "You and Hikari were such a vision earlier. Let's recreate that moment, why don't we?"
"Let's not." Ken released his hold on the bike, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets and looking uncomfortable.
"Come on… do you think I can't do it?" Daisuke asked suspiciously, and then flexed like a champion.
"It will look…weird."
"But don't you see? If it's =you= on those bars, it won't look strange at all. It'll be… picturesque!"
"No."
"You are such a baby!" Daisuke said teasingly. "Okay, Ken-chan. Whatever your little heart desires."
Ken felt a flash of delicious confusion, and suppressed it. He doesn't mean anything by that. I wish he'd stop being so… flirty. It means nothing.
"Item?" Ken asked, trying to get back to the main discussion.
Daisuke flipped his middle finger at Ken. "You're no fun!" he said, in a mock-pouty manner. "Fine, Item! Takeru is insane because he gave up on Hikari."
"So did you."
"But =I= never had a chance. You know she wanted him, secretly. It's so obvious to me now. And look at her…she doesn't even have the consolation of all the touchiness that he shares with Miyako."
"Yeah." Ken had noticed this.
"YOU are all she has now… how weird is that?"
This was an unexpected turn of the conversation. "I have no idea what that means."
Daisuke missed the cautionary tone in Ken's voice, so convinced of the =rightness= of his observation that he hadn't given thought to how Ken might feel about what he was about to say. "Heh..well, because you two will never become an item, that's for sure!"
"Why not?" Ken asked coolly, a dark abyss in his heart, wondering if Daisuke had already divined his secrets. There was a lot of hope in this moment... if Daisuke knew, and since he appeared not to be bothered by it... then maybe, maybe...
"You're a monk! Completely asexual!"
Ken stopped walking, his eyes shadowed by his eyelids. The look of disdain. It looked very good on him. "Do tell."
"You've never even kissed a girl, and look at you! You don't lack for admirers. Opportunity plagues you, and you just let it go by. Isn't this true?"
"True. Yes." Ken appeared to be tasting the words.
Finally, Daisuke realized that Ken was not happy with this line of commentary. "Are you very mad?" he asked contritely. Usually, when Daisuke had put his foot in his mouth, this little question was enough to bring a smile to Ken's face, and All Was Forgiven.
Ken remained stonefaced. "Not at all."
"Okay, so maybe you =aren't= a monk. It's just a figure of speech! You know I wouldn't have said it if I thought you couldn't get a girl this very second, if you wanted to." Daisuke got off the bike and flipped the kickstand in a quick movement, so that he could put his arm around Ken's shoulder and apologize.
Ken wouldn't have it. He moved away from the offered embrace, and the look he gave Daisuke was that of a stranger. "I think I could, too." Ken said, not arrogantly but arrogant seeming. There was no emotion at all in his voice, and he refused to look at his longtime friend and Jogress partner.
For Daisuke, it was always so easy for him to forget that no matter how open Ken was with him, that genius mind and tortured personality meant that Ken had thoughts he could not see, might never know. Most of the time, Daisuke operated as if that Shadow Ken didn't exist, because it was too intimidating. But sometimes...
Daisuke was overcome with a sense of despair. He's so far beyond me... how can I reach someone so clearly superior?
"You could, too!" Daisuke said quietly. "You could have anyone you wanted."
"And if I wanted Hikari?" Ken said, his voice brittle, his tone uncompromising. He was daring Daisuke to object.
"That would be...okay... I guess." Why was it so hard for Daisuke to say these words?
"Fine. I will ask her out, then. Seeing as how you don't object, of course."
"...if you want."
Ken looked away from Daisuke, hiding his despair. Fight for me! Want me! But no... you don't want me, Daisuke. You never have. "Give me my bike."
"Huh?"
"Give me my bike. It seems I won't be going home with you after all. I need to see about a girl."
++
Takeru was setting up all of the necessary equipment on the bathroom sink: plastic gloves, Vaseline, grungy towel, shower cap, nail scissors, and box of Redkins Semipermanent Shimmering Gel Foam Colour Tips.
The paper instruction sheet was spread out to one side, and although he intended to ignore most of the warnings, this dye job would be PERFECT anyway.
"Red Chunkies…are a Go!" Takeru patted his fair tow-colored hair fondly. After several deep discussions with Miyako and a few of his other intimate female acquaintances, Takeru decided to drop the innocent angelic look and go punk. He had already transformed his wardrobe from that of "Gilligan the Castaway" to the edgier "Mack the Knife" look. With the artistic application of broad chunks of vibrant berry-colored highlights, the image would be set, and all residual innocence would be cast asunder.
First, Takeru separated out the chunks he wanted to color and tied them off with little clips stolen from Hikari (who hadn't been informed of the coloring plan, exactly). Next, Takeru put on the clear shower cap, and slicked a little Vaseline on his face around the edges, to prevent the dye from staining his skin. He then stabbed the showercap with the scissors repeatedly, and drew the favoured locks of hair through for coloring.
He was just about ready to begin mixing the colors, when the doorbell rang. "Bloody hell," Takeru muttered, and thought that he might ignore it. But the bell rang again, and then again. When Takeru's Digivice began to sound off, an annoyed Patamon went to grab the door himself.
"Hey, don't do that!" Takeru called out, but it was too late. Daisuke tumbled in.
"Why aren't you answering the door! I'm having a crisis here and I don't have any time for your laziness! It's unacceptable, inexcusable, unforgiv…what the fuck has landed on your head, TK?"
Patamon landed on =Daisuke's= head, and began to giggle. "It's a space helmet!"
"I'm coloring my hair, Dais."
Fascinated, forgetting his troubles for a moment, Daisuke went up to Takeru and pulled on some of the hair sticking out from the bouffant cap. "Who put you up to this?"
"Miyako and I discussed it, and it seemed the best way to differentiate MY look from Yamato's"
Daisuke began to giggle, and then proceeded to pull off the plastic apparatus before Takeru can stop him. "Girls are always trying to get you to do crazy shit. You'll look like.. like.." Daisuke struggled for the word.
"A Digimon!" Patamon supplied. He thought the dye job a magnificent plan.
Takeru resisted the intervention, but halfheartedly. As soon as he saw the incredulous look on Daisuke's face he had begun to question the wisdom of putting his hair's fate in the hands of the purple-haired people of the world. Patamon's wholehearted affirmation only cemented his doubts. "It'll look cool!" he protested weakly.
"You are not a poser and I forbid you to look like one," Daisuke said airily, a prince issuing an edict that he fully expected to have obeyed. Seeing Takeru remove his hands from his hair hesitantly, Daisuke looked pleased. And then troubled… he remembered again why he had come over to see Takeru in the first place.
"I need to see about a girl"… my ass!
In characteristic weathervane fashion, Daisuke slouched over to the couch in the living room and plopped down on it, his mood clearly doing a 180. "Go pour out that vile =stain= into the sink, and then get over here and comfort me."
"What's the matter?" Takeru asked, concerned. He began to pull off the twist-ties and clips from his head. Patamon retreated to Takeru's bedroom, to play Final Fantasy VII. Maybe Daisuke is right…maybe I would look silly…. Takeru stroked his own beloved hair. There, there…
"You are the only one I could come to about this. Ken is going to ask out Hikari! Even as we speak!"
"No!" Takeru was shocked, but then again, not really. He knew Ken.
Furthermore, he REALLY knew Hikari. She just has… a way.
"Isn't that horrible? She was mine, or yours, or… whatever… it is so totally =unfair= of him to steal her away when he's only just in a snit because I made a LITTLE bit of fun of how inexperienced he is… why is he such a baby and it's so unreasonable and I hate hate HATE him!"
Takeru sighed. "Knowing Ken, I'm sure he asked your permission, didn't he?"
Daisuke looked up, surprised that Takeru wasn't going to immediately fall into outraged rumblings. "You loved her too! You loved her best! What the hell… don't you care? This is a travesty!"
Sitting down next to Daisuke, who looked confused and almost frightened, Takeru felt a surge of pity. He had a very good guess as to why Ken might turn to Hikari in a time of crisis. If Ken were ever afraid of losing Daisuke's friendship, or ever became convinced that he could never have him… well then, dating someone that Daisuke had once loved quite well would be the next best thing. Having figured all of this out a long time ago, all Takeru has to do is decide what precipitated the present crisis.
This was no time to tease. Takeru became very straightforward. "I KNOW he asked you for permission. He couldn't function any other way, even when it's over a girl you =supposedly= got over at least a year ago. Are you trying to tell me he betrayed your friendship somehow? How?"
"Yes!" Daisuke said, the note of despair clear and strong.
"How?" Takeru asked again, gently.
"He should have known! Even after I said it was okay, he should have =known= that it wasn't!"
"Why did he decide to ask her out?"
"We were talking about Hikari, and I made some little ironical comment about how she only had him left, since both you and I had moved on…"
"Aha!"
"..and he went ballistic and became all cold and Kaizerish and wouldn't let me apologize for telling him the TRUTH, which is that he never dates girls even though he could get any one that he wants."
Takeru leaned back into the chair. Oh, no. "Why do you think that Ken doesn't date girls, Dais?" I can't tell him my guesses, but perhaps I can ask a few questions. Innocent questions.
"Because he's not into the whole sex thing, I guess. Yeah, hey! He was maddest because I called him a monk. How childish is that? I =wouldn't= call him a monk if he actually started going around shagging any of his multitude of groupies once in a while." Daisuke was leaning back as well, looking for all the world like he wanted to place a cool compress over his brow to service some monstrous headache.
"So he's trying to prove that he's NOT a monk, do you think? By asking Hikari out, I mean."
"He could have started with someone else," Daisuke pouted.
"Who else, Dais? Who =else= does he spend that kind of time with? Who else would he know well enough to ask out? And don't say Miyako because you KNOW they hashed that situation out a while ago and neither is eager to revisit it."
Think, Daisuke, THINK.
A long pause. Daisuke thought, hard.
"Nobody." Daisuke said miserably after some time. "Yeah, I see your point."
Takeru wanted to strangle Daisuke. It was so obvious to him that Daisuke cared about Ken, perhaps even more then Ken returned the favour. Also obvious was the fact that Daisuke flirted with Ken constantly, although he was ostensibly "straight" and had the track record to prove it. It was obvious that Daisuke valued Ken, respected him, pined for him on occasion, =needed= him to balance out his most biting flaws. "There's no guarantee that Hikari will say yes, you know," Takeru said through clenched teeth.
Daisuke looked incredulous. "What? What? That's nonsense! Who =wouldn't= say yes to Ken?"
"Hey, it happens. I'd be willing to bet that Ken has had his fair share of rejections and disappointments." Takeru slipped into a dry tone here. How is it possible that Daisuke has not even =considered= the possibility of homosexuality? For Ken, for himself? Who's the REAL child in all this?
Daisuke shook his head decisively, negating this comment with the core of his being. "Foolishness. Ken is…Ken has… Ken is perfect, okay?"
"I thought you hated him…" Takeru asked quietly, rubbing his fingers through his golden crop, thanking whatever Fate that brought Daisuke to prevent him from doing something so pansy-ass to his hair. No matter what would come out of this discussion, at least Takeru had been averted from a fate worse then Birkenstocks.
"I do… I don't. I'm so confused. One minute I think it's his fault, the next I think it's mine. I probably shouldn't have teased him… he has no tolerance for that kind of thing. But to go for Hikari… it's like he was going out of his way to hurt me. He's never done that before."
"Wait a second. Are you honestly going to sit there and pretend that you care one WHIT about Hikari at this point? I won't believe you."
"That's not it. It's just that… I thought that Ken would never hurt me. And he did." A tear rolled down Daisuke's cheek.
Takeru pursed his lips in thought. "It might be fruitful for you to meditate on whether or not you've done anything to hurt HIM. I mean, bigger then calling him names and whatever other silliness just happened tonight."
Daisuke narrowed his eyes. "What aren't you telling me, TK?"
Everything. "Nothing. Just think about it, okay?"
"Okay." Daisuke rubbed his eyes and cheeks, smearing the tears and obliterating them almost completely.

++
The next morning Takeru and Miyako held an emergency session in the school courtyard, HE reporting the frustrating results of his consultation with Daisuke, and SHE offering Hikari-side commentary. To the surprise of both conspirators, Hikari had agreed to the date, and had even sounded quite pleased when she described the set-up to Miyako the night before in an emergency phone call.
Miyako found herself intrigued.
Hikari..Ken…Daisuke… oh my! How can boredom exist when such juicy romantic entanglements flourish.?
Miyako begged leave of her friends at lunchtime, to make a call (and take a cig). I think it's HIS lunchtime, too.
The phone rang a few times, and then a familiar voice answered. She used to dream of that voice at night; it's no wonder that her heart skipped a beat, even now, to hear it. She might not love him anymore, but she will always feel more then mere tolerance towards him.
"Ken...hey! Glad I caught you."
"Miyako?" Ken's voice was a little deeper now, but it still maintained that alluring quality of formality blended with a touch of adorable wildness.
"Yep. So, you are going to take Hikari out this weekend." Miyako didn't bother to make this anything other then a statement. And the tone of her voice is neutral, designedly so; if he got the foolish idea that she was feeling =jealous= over this whole affair, the conversation would not go well.
"....Yes. Why?"
"That's fascinating. I have two questions for you."
"I may not have two answers for you. I don't really feel like talking about it." Ken sounded tired, put-out. Miyako could hear the sounds of lunchroom conversation murmuring over the wireless. It sounded alien, because she didn't recognize any of the voices.
"First, why haven't you told Hikari or Daisuke yet?"
"About what?" Ken sounded suspicious.
Miyako took a deep breath. She would have to admit remembering something he told her a long time ago, something that had not been discussed ever since. Obviously, he knew that she knew… but still, by tacit agreement, up until now it had remained aggressively unspeakable. "You are GAY. Don't they deserve to know?"
Silence.
More silence.
Finally, Ken responded. "Will you tell?"
"Not my responsibility. Besides, Hikari might be able to do what no woman before ever has... give you a hard-on. And then you'll be cured!"
Miyako laughed. Ken did not.
"Maybe. That's certainly a consideration." Ken said in a prickly fashion.
"You lie! But that's alright, I love you anyway. I =won't= tell, that's not the issue. And I don't really believe that nonsense about a 'cure.' I just want you to think very carefully about why YOU aren't telling either of them. Make sure you aren't doing something stupid."
Another long pause.
"I guess. Hmm.... So you had a second question?" Ken clearly wished to change the subject.
"Actually, it's more of a way of conferring vital information. Did you know that Daisuke has spent the whole day in class with his head on his desk? And he's snappish. This is not his normal style, you know."
"I don't think that means what you are trying to imply, Miyako. I think he's just upset that I asked out Hikari and she said yes."
"Oh, that's what he says too. But I don't believe it, anymore then I believe that you lust after Hikari."
"A little suffering won't kill him. He shouldn't have said what he did." Ken sounded convicted, but Miyako wasn't fooled. Underneath the bravado he was clearly hurt.
"Ahh! So you ARE punishing him! Punishing him for not knowing what you haven't bothered to tell him. Ken, can I just say: priceless?"
"He doesn't know me, Miyako. We've been friends for a very long time now, and he hasn't bothered to ask the simplest questions about me. And then he goes and makes some stupid assumptions. Let him sweat for a while. Maybe it will turn on his brain."
Miyako was taken aback for just a moment, but she rallied wonderfully. "Uncharacteristically cruel of you. You, my dear, are built for tragedy. You are inured to it, because you are so used to it. Have you stopped to consider that Daisuke, never having been innocuated against this kind of emotional suffering, might NOT be able to handle things so well? Tell him."
"No."
"He deserves to know."
"No."
"Why not? Is it because, on top of being gay, that you actually LOVE him as well?" This was the most dangerous question.
=click=
Miyako looked at the phone in silence for a few minutes, listening first to the dial tone, and then to the pre-recorded operator's voice.
I knew it.
++
Saturday night's alright for fighting, but it's truly prime for dating.
The plan developed as follows: Ken would pick up Hikari at her place of residing at around 7:30pm. After making nice with the Kamiya family for about 15 minutes, Ken then would escort Hikari to a very fine restaurant downtown, and it is quite possible that they might hold hands the entire way there, looking quite charming because each was a penultimate representative of the beauty of his or her respective gender. Adults would smile at them as they passed. Babies might coo. Peers would sigh hopelessly, knowing that such sublime moments could =never= be theirs.
Hikari: never awkward -- Ken: always graceful. It's a perfect match.
++
"Here we are!"
"Yes indeed!"
Ken and Hikari peered up at the elegant restaurant before them, feeling quite self-conscious. They had held hands the entire time, strolling along the boulevard like European movie stars. All eyes turned to follow; it had been a painful march in many ways. Hikari was unused to the kind of synergy her beauty can create when matched up with a boy who is more then her equal in loveliness. Ken was unused to touching a girl, period.
He liked it, a little bit. To be more accurate: he didn't hate it. It wasn't horrible.
No "cure" was imminent, however.
Let's get this over with. "I'm so glad you agreed to this, Hikari." Ken was dressed in Kaizer blue, the color of his school uniform. The color of his life.
"It's a nice experiment," she replied, a touch breathlessly. The way that Ken had pitched this whole date to her had almost been like a business transaction; he offered pros and cons, and seemed prepared to draw up graphs when she had questioned him closely about his intentions. His justification for wanting to go on a date with her could double as a Master's thesis on the Interpersonal Dynamics between men and women. There had never been any question that true love was involved… Ken wouldn't have sounded so clinical, otherwise.
Ken's lack of overt affection made Hikari feel safe.
Hikari surprised even herself by feeling naughty. Horny. Safety can do that occasionally.
Hikari's issues with men are complex and needlessly convoluted. Suffice it to say, she rarely agrees to dates because they make her feel vulnerable, exposed. She doesn't like feeling sexual. Normally, she flees it. There are Reasons she is not with Daisuke. There are even more Reasons, tiresome ones, for why she rejected Takeru cold.
And there are Reasons why Ken is different, and why it seems okay to lust after him Hikari simply doesn't know why just yet.
Hikari was dressed in Mimi pink, the color of her Digivice. NOT the color of light.
"Ready?" Ken asked expectantly.
"Yes, thanks. Let's do it!" She said, adopting a Miyakoism. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Hikari angled up to place a small peck on Ken's cheek. She felt him withdraw just slightly, and he looked confused when she pulled back to examine him, touching his flawless face with the back of her fingers.
Clearly, Hikari had the upper hand. She found it… agreeable. Very much so.
Tilting his head, Ken collected himself, and became quite droll. "Maybe later." With that, he took her arm in a courtly fashion, and led her into the restaurant. "The experiment's no good if we don't eat first."
Hikari blushed. "I didn't mean it THAT way!" she protested, even as she snuggled closer to Ken, enjoying being led.
"Whatever you say, Hikari-san. Whatever you say."
"I'm still a virgin, you know," she thought to announce. "I'm not a slut!."
"I'm still a virgin too," he admitted nonchalantly.
"Really?" Her eyes opened wide. "Daisuke didn't corrupt you?"
"Not yet, Hikari. And probably not ever." The two arrived at the host's desk, and Ken picked up the reservation. This interlude afforded him the opportunity to stifle a sigh. Daisuke… he couldn't care less about corrupting me. And now he probably hates me.
What Daisuke actually felt was a lot more complicated then that, as he slipped into the restaurant behind his two friends…
No. Don't call it spying. Call it investigative curiosity.
Daisuke was dressed in Ichijouji grey, the color of anonymity… sometimes.
...
End Part One


Author notes: Part two of my entry for Nemesi's contest, and technically The End. However, this is a falsehood of sorts-- I =will= write an epilogue, which will account for the future fate of most of the 02 Digidestined in a satisfying way. I just cannot guarantee that it will be done before June 7th, the contest deadline.
Ratings: There is sex in here, and although I'm =exactly= the kind of person who likes to apply obscurity in such situations, I did not do so here. So: NC-17, for this part. Nonetheless, I do not believe I have written anything that will damage the tender consciousness of anyone under...say...16. Beyond that, you'll just have to use your own judgement.
This will be simultaneously posted at ff.net, where all my italics can be viewed in their lovely abundance.
Random notes:
· Toko was my first reviewer to correctly identify the poem to which the title refers. "The Wasteland" by T.S. Eliot makes for an interesting read, and no mistake. :) As for what the Sibyl actually =said=... just know that it is a line that I have both Ken and Daisuke say in this chapter. Revealing more would be to reveal too much! Anyway, yays to Toko! Strong work!
· "The Heart Asks Pleasure First," a piano piece referred to later in this chapter, is =real= music by Michael Nyman-- and contains the main theme to the movie "The Piano." I highly recommend getting a hold of this track and playing it during the pertinent scene, although it is not necessary for the enjoying of this story.
· Thanks to the following readers, whose encouragement and critiques have made this chapter all the more lengthy...um... I mean, all the more =good=. *grins goofily* Irhista Lhail, my partner in Digicrime; Flair, my Lucky Charms pusher; and Sugah, writer and artiste.
Obligate Disclaimer:
I do not own Digimon, Ken, or Daisuke. No, really.

What the Sibyl Said- part two
(Rated NC-17 for Language, Smuttiness, and Digitude. A =soft= NC-17.)

by: Herongale


If you could give up tricks and cleverness, that would be the cleverest trick.
Rumi


++

Kismet is exactly the word for it. Daisuke, so offended by the entire concept of this date, and entirely furious with the universe for allowing it to happen, was at least a little mollified by the fact that Ken had happened make reservations at a restaurant owned by one of his more illustrious cousins. This intelligence came to him courtesy of Inoue Miyako, who had taken it upon herself to give Daisuke minute-to-minute updates on the situations, sharing non-private tidbits from her email exchanges with Hikari. It was without a second thought…to be frank, it was practically without an original thought… that Daisuke instantly decided that he must witness this "betrayal" firsthand and hopefully satisfy himself on the correctness of his prior assumption of Ken's untouchableness.
All that hand holding sent Daisuke into fits.
He had lurked around the Kamiya's apartment terrace for the better part of the afternoon, not wanting to miss the moment that his former best friend arrived to collect his former love interest for an evening of illicit delights.
With uncharacteristic patience, he hid behind bushes, strategically safe from prying eyes as he exchanged any number of emails with Takeru and Miyako, who both had been apprised of his plan. Takeru disapproved, whereas Miyako provided detailed instructions on how to successfully skulk. Daisuke actually found it exciting, after a while. I am...Superfly!
At precisely 7:27, Ken strolled up the walk. He might have arranged the time with casualness, but he adhered to it with military precision.
Prig.
Rarely had Daisuke been afforded the opportunity to spy on..err..=observe= Ken like this. It made him feel a little better to dwell on Ken's priggishness, because he didn't want to have to deal with the fact that Ken looked so impressive just then. In the years since the Digital World Fiasco, Ken had grown quite tall, whereas Daisuke had stubbornly only gained a few inches. There had always been a disparity between himself and most other boys, and the past few years had widened the gap considerably. Daisuke had enough personality that he usually felt equal to anyone, of any height.
But not Ken. The way that Ken crossed the sidewalk was criminal, his refined height and slimness enhancing his strongly Japanese looks, his tigerish gait making him look sexual. Deceptively sexual. Ken is always so damned…imperial. That's why he looks sexy, not because he wants it.
Fucking deceptive bastard.
Daisuke suddenly felt quite small.
After Ken collected Hikari, Daisuke had followed doggedly. When Hikari pulled Ken's hand into her own, Daisuke almost choked on his own spit and paroxysmal rage.
How dare she?
Daisuke might have been mad at Ken right then, but he firmly believed in Ken's essential innocence. Ken's just a child. A stupid kid. She's USING him!
Dark scenarios intruded into Daisuke's susceptible mind. Hikari's a temptress, a demoness. That must be it! That's why Ken is hurting me which is SO not like him! She's cast a spell! She's evil, pure unadulterated evil!
This line of thinking made him feel better.
For a while.
Okay, so Hikari's not really evil.
She's a nice girl. Very…reliable.
All was tranquility.. until Hikari reached up to kiss Ken on the cheek. Daisuke's thoughts at that moment?
Unmentionable.
++

"Ne, Ken?"
Playing with his food as if it were serious business, Ken looked up guiltily. I'm doing it again. Under ideal (i.e. non-sexually charged circumstances), Ken found Hikari to be quite engaging. High school probably would have been pretty lonely without her: her daily presence reminded him of his resolve to honor the lessons that the Digital World had taught him, to be real. Even Daisuke never offered so much; he simply was never around when the most potent temptations occurred.
Who was it who sought him out to encourage him during homeroom? Who powdered him with eraser dust with alarming regularity? Who helped fend off the social parasites with her own deft expertise? Hikari. Hikari, out of all probability. Because of her, he had been able to fall in with the most interesting people at school, the quirky and cute friends that he wanted…rather then the suave, cruel set that wanted to call him their own. Hikari was a true friend, an important one. Valued.
And yet… it was all Ken could do not to fall over in boredom. His natural defenses were kicking in, and every time his date slipped into tender conversation, something vital inside of Ken turned off. It didn't help that Hikari didn't seem the least bit disturbed by this flagrant indifference.
If anything, she was feeding off it.
"Hmm?" Ken replied after a moment, his head turned to watch other couples at the restaurant, absently twirling the straw in his soda.
"Where do you think we should go this Spring, then? Hawaii?"
This almost was enough to capture Ken's attention. Surely, surely she can't be suggesting that we…? Ken shook himself slightly. No. She's just talking about the class trip. She's on the selection committee… Ichijouji no baka!
"Whatever. That would be fine, I guess."
Hikari leaned forward, tapping Ken's plate with her chopsticks. "Nonsense! You must have an opinion."
Ken leaned back, fatigued beyond belief. Why can't I focus! "Not really. I'm not going."
"No! I'm counting on you!" Hikari forbid warmly, her voice a caress. "I can't invite Miyako or any of the others, so you will be the only one of my old friends who can go. I need you." She assumed a wheedling tone. "You are the only boy I can trust, in any case. I'll want your protection!"
"I have commitments," he replied tersely.
Hikari frowned, her smooth forehead wrinkling slightly between her eyebrows as she tried to recall if this was something he'd discussed in the past. "..and they would be?" she said finally.
"I promised Daisuke…" Ken started, then stopped. He must hate me. Here I am, on a date with Hikari, and he'll hate me forever, most likely. I knew that. I asked for it, in a stupid fit of pique. So what plans, exactly, can I presume are still binding?
"Oh, that." Hikari said dismissively. " I can't believe he'd hold you to a promise you'd made years ago." With a seductive smile, Hikari kicked her foot against Ken's, causing him to sigh in exasperation.
"I never break my promises to Daisuke, Hikari." It had been a crazy, reckless thing to promise. But Ken had felt he owed it to his friend, after all the things he had taken care of on Ken's behalf. Besides, at the age of 11 it had seemed exotic and exciting…
"I can't believe the both of you still do that, year after year. It's so… childish." Hikari rolled her eyes, adopting a tolerantly bemused expression, her foot still kicking into Ken's with all the flirtatious skills at her command.
Ken didn't feel like justifying himself. Really, all he wanted to do was go home and call Daisuke, telling him that the date had been a bust and that he would never do it again. But in a way, this turn of the conversation was engaging him, waking him up. Like toying with a painfully loose tooth, it felt good to talk about Daisuke. Look, here's a person who will know him for always, even if I don't. My own foolish pride, ridiculous decisions, and above all, gayness- it will destroy the friendship for sure. But maybe, maybe.. this date isn't such a bad thing after all. A girl who Daisuke loved… if I date her, I will always have a piece of him, through her…. "Mmm? How so?" Make her talk… Make her talk about him. That's what I'll do.
"Well, neither of you is exactly the creative type, right? So why the artsy boot camp? You aren't ever going to be concert pianist, and Daisuke's sure as hell not going to be a painter. It's not like you work hard on these things during the rest of the year. Dabbling is fun, dabbling is good. And it's true that you are both talented amateurs. But hell! For years now you have both skipped out on the most important bonding time you could have with your classmates, in favour of this adventure. Is it worth it?"
"The artsy boot camp," as Hikari had dubbed it, was actually a Julliard-like academy tucked away in the northern wilds of Japan. Daisuke had never bothered to tell anyone besides Ken his fondest dream- to become a manga artist. And in fact, he was more then a dabbler… a lot more. Years ago, Ken had seen some of Daisuke's pictures, and found them impressive enough to encourage him to continue in this vein. Daisuke, ever worshipful of Ken's good opinion, quickly seized on that approval, and began art lessons that only Ken and his family knew about. These yearly trips were a reward for Daisuke's hard work by his parents… and Ken's participation in the "boot camp" was in part for moral support. However, Ken's promise, to abandon all future class trips to instead tinker around with the piano in a decidedly amateurish fashion, has also been secured for a completely different reason… but that's a story for another time.
Ken thought about all these things, as well as the possibility that the promise might be nullified forever, either because of tonight, or another night: hurting Daisuke seemed inevitable. "Worth it?" he tasted the words curiously, wonderingly. Is it even possible that time with Daisuke could be anything BUT?
"Yeah." Hikari misread his question for doubt, and pressed her "advantage" ruthlessly. "Think of it. You will have sun, volcanoes, beaches, and me. You'd like that, I hope? Daisuke would understand, I know it."
Everything felt so surreal. "You think so?" Hikari, Hikari… you didn't see the pain in his eyes that I elicited, just by proposing this solitary date.
"Absolutely!" Hikari shook her head winningly, and her subsequent smile was like a kiss. Dazzling, surprising. Hikari, of the best beauty. In this moment of confusion, a waiter stepped up to the table, and took Hikari's empty water glass gently, filling it slowly and expertly. Neither Ken nor Hikari looked up, caught up as they were in this mini-emotional tableau. She kept rubbing his ankle, and he wanted it to stop. And yet... he also wanted to want her to continue.
Ken's feelings were very complex. He wanted to be attracted to her, she was making herself so wide open for it. He wanted to slap her… it seemed unnatural for anyone to have that careless level of self-confidence. He wanted to beg her to reconsider her rejection of Daisuke, all those years ago... Maybe the boy didn't love her anymore, but he could, oh he could!…
Above all, Ken wanted Daisuke's happiness. He wanted to be an instrument of it.
I will be straight for him. I want him to hate me if he needs to. I want to forget him. I want to touch him. I need him. I should never see him again. If I don't see him this evening I will die. I wish I could tell him the truth. I want to shield him from it, and anything else that might confuse or pain him. I want. Ooh, how I want.
My selfishness is amazing.
Ken leaned in towards Hikari, adopting a conspiratorial tone, absently holding his glass out to the waiter, to have it refilled. "I'm not convinced." Gently, he kicked her back, which stopped her sensual rubbing and yet made him seem all the more winsome. "I think he'd mind."
"You are no fun!" she pouted. With her customary poise, she sniped a riceball off Ken's plate, and popped it in her mouth. She then stuck out her tongue, little pieces of rice still sticking to it.
"Attractive," Ken noted wryly. "Very, very attractive."
Hikari was lost in thought for a moment, and then a determined look suffused her face with light and warmth. "So, have I told you yet what I've decided to be when I grow up?"
"No..." Ken answered, feeling the malaise setting in again as the topic shifted away from Daisuke and to inconsequential matters.
"Have you ever heard of Herbalism?"
++
Midori.. Natsuko.. Rei... Ayame.. Kimi.. Mai.. oooh, Mai… Sakura.. Idoru.. bitch!.. Yukiko... Hermione… Lian.. Shanta.. hell, ALL those girls from American University.. Hikari…oh, no =never= "I'm too good for you" Hikari. I keep forgetting…
After some begging and bribery, Daisuke found himself in the corner of his cousin's restaurant with silver in hand and conquest on the mind. The fact that he was dressed as a waiter was purely for effect… he wasn't allowed to mingle among the "guests" upon pain of death. What he =was= allowed to do was sit behind a tasteful screen-- a latticework of wood and ivy-- and sulk.
Trying to make himself feel better by listing all of his past girlfriends was an admirable strategy, but one that backfired when Daisuke glumly concluded that he had loved none of them. And once Hikari's name slipped into the list, there was no help but to deteriorate into sarcastic self-flagellation. Was she really my first love? After everything that's happened, could it be that she was my =only love, frigid condescending bitch that she is? Is that why I am so fucked up? For the 467th time that hour, Daisuke's eyes strayed from the tarnished teapot that he was polishing, over to the far corner where his friends dined on curry and rice. His line of site was really quite decent… Ken and Hikari were both in profile, and Daisuke could even see some of what was going on under the table.
Thus the glumness.
Did it help that Ken was obviously suffering? A little. Daisuke, knowing his friend's moods, had been keen to pick up on the indifference shading into torqued, muscular boredom. Actually, when Daisuke caught a wince, he lifted up a silent cheer. Very good, my friend! Show that bitch! But his moment of triumph didn't last long, because he saw that Ken was obviously making some kind of effort, training himself to accept Hikari's attention with grace and slowly growing interest.
And why, by all that is unfucking holy, do I keep calling Hikari a bitch? She's lovely. Nice. Just because she rejected me…
Jealousy works in interesting ways. Daisuke might not have realized it…no, he didn't realize it. He couldn't. Trying to make himself jealous of Ken for Hikari's sake, he didn't realize how often his jealousy flowed in the exact opposite direction. The only evidence of this were the insults, directed at Hikari. For years he hadn't entertained a single immoderate feeling towards the girl, preferring never to revive his earlier crush, but also decidedly refusing to blame her for not returning his juvenile emotions. But now, things seemed different, and Daisuke permitted himself to go wild.
I hate her hate her hate her hate her. Oh, and him too. Nah, Ken's alright. She's the evil jerkfaced rude deviatrix! She's mindwarping my boy!
Daisuke liked to refer to Ken as "my boy," in his thoughts and sometimes in conversation. There are men who do this, and not nearly all of them are gay or gay-leaning. It must be noted, however, that he never granted this appellation to Takeru, or Iori, or Tai. Or anyone else, ever. If there is a meaning to this distinction Daisuke never bothered to discover it for himself.
Never as pretty as Ken, the dynamic of their friendship had been set early on… Daisuke would be the one to get all the girls for casual sex and triumphant serial relationships, whereas Ken would be the untouchable idol, inspiring unrequited sighs and reams of bad poetry. Daisuke never needed to think about why this situation pleased him; at least, not until now, when he sensed everything falling apart. How can Ken and I be the same… how can I ever have a place in his life after he turns on to his own beauty?
Even in the most non-introspective person, moments of clarity can occur, and Daisuke found himself thrust into nirvana. This is what he saw: Hikari, the most successfully flirtatious girl he had ever known, softening up Ken and changing him, transforming him into a weirdly sexual being. In theory, Daisuke could accept his own responsibility in the genesis of this date, but he refused to accept any blame for the possibility of this relationship continuing, and he did not care at ALL for the thought that his young, boyish friendship with Ken seemed destined for an ignominious end. He'll become enchanted with Hikari… and then girls in general… and I'll lose him forever to depravity.
Over the years, Miyako had been known to draw Daisuke into conversations that she called "Adventures in Self-Discovery." During these little talks, she would ask him the most embarrassing array of personal questions. How do you like it? Have you ever tasted your own come? Why didn't you ever have a crush on me? Angewomon or Lilymon? What about boys-be honest! You were lying about the ramen cart, weren't you… what do you =really= want to do with your damn life? Favorite color? No, Titanic does NOT suck!
Sometimes she would rely on aggressively argumentative statements. Her favourite such statement was a doom that she often pronounced: You and Ken won't be friends forever. Of anything that Miyako could offer, this was the one topic guaranteed to make Daisuke go ballistic. You won't be friends forever. He would argue, cajole, demand explanations, wax sarcastic, descend into outrage, alight upon revelations, and basically, amuse Miyako to no end. She called Daisuke the Defender of the Impossible Eternal Friendship, but only in private, because to get Daisuke to be honest she always promised utter secrecy.
Daisuke had dismissed this title as nonsense. Now, he had the disturbed feeling that maybe he should have hailed her as a prophetess.
"I want to die," Daisuke whispered to himself.
At that moment, he happened to look over at Ken, yearning for something nameless and primitive, and noticed that Ken appeared to be excusing himself to go to the bathroom. Ken looked so damn good, in that blue blazer and flushed pink from the curry. Daisuke also felt himself flushing, with nervousness and general anxiety. He felt a confrontation coming on, and this excited and unnerved him.
"Umm..I think I'm going to be sick. Yeah."
Not knowing if he was being clever or reckless, Daisuke also excused himself to the bathroom.
++
"You!"
"Hell, yeah!"
Ken and Daisuke stared at each other through the intermediary of the bathroom mirror, each boy aggressively washing his hands, refusing to be the one to break the gaze or the ritual cleanliness. No sounds emerged from the stalls, so it was presumed that they were alone.
Having already gotten over the stony silence of the reunion at the urinals, it was Ken who spoke first, as was his right.
Too bad he wasted it by stating the obvious.
After Daisuke confirmed that Ken's accusation of "you!-ness" was correct, a lull occurred before the argument had even begun. Ken seemed embarrassed, instead of 100% angry. In turn, Daisuke was confused-- he wanted Ken to be furious, so that he could lay down a righteously illin' smackdown in retaliation. Ken's hesitations were throwing Daisuke off his game. Not that there was much of a pre-established game... Daisuke had never fought with Ken before, not in any purposeful, life-changing way.
"Umm..." Ken said coolly, but with some hesitation. "Are you spying on me?"
Daisuke shrugged, and continued to wash his hands. Playing the punk seemed safest, until he could get a handle on his own quicksilver shifts of emotions.
Ken opened his eyes wide at the insolence. More frosty on the second pass, Ken looked exceptionally stern. "Well?"
"I sure as fuck don't know what I'm doing here." Daisuke said casually. "Whim, maybe? I think I just came to watch the show."
"The...show?"
"Yeah.. I particularly liked when you let 'Kari slobber all over you. She'll make a man of you yet, natch?"
Ken froze. "I have feelings, you know." Do not let it be said that geniuses always say genius things. They don't.
"So do I." Daisuke said flatly, taking his hands from the sink and wiping them on the pantlegs of his borrowed uniform. "I'm not sure I want to see you with Hikari, after all. I don't like it."
Ken also stopped washing his hands, and wiped them on the revolving towel, as is correct. He then leaned against the tiled bathroom wall, slouching-- as is completely incorrect. "Why not?"
"She's my... and you are... and Takeru has rights too, you know!"
Ken blinked. "Takeru-chan?" He said after a pause, suddenly dimpled and pleased with himself, for reasons that Daisuke could not guess.
"Don't you fucking call him that! Don't you dare fucking call him that! He's no sweet little thing, he's not your kindergarten lover, shut up, you betrayer of me and him!" Despite the heat of the words, Daisuke had a hard time maintaining the heat of actual anger, not with Ken beaming down on him with that...smile! What in the world could Ken be smiling for?
"Of course not." Ken said, still grinning. "Okay, so Takeru has rights. How interesting."
Daisuke collected himself, and then stepped right into Ken's personal space, mugging and pointing his fist deep into where he imagined Ken's aura to be. "Stop. Laughing. At. ME!"
And like that, the smile was wiped off Ken's face. "I would never." Without even knowing what he was doing, Ken let one of his hands creep up to smooth down the side of Daisuke's arm. A long time-- it had been a very long time since Ken had initiated any kind of contact with Daisuke. So perhaps, it is not surprising that Daisuke jumped. Or that Ken pulled back his hand quickly, ashamedly.
"You think you're funny, don't you? Little Mr. PerfectFace, with his fancy new girlfriend and everything. So smart, using my guilt over saying one stupid meaningless thing to trick me into letting you ask out Hikari. So, so smart. I'm impressed, Ken-chan. You really snowed me. I'm glad that our friendship meant so much to you that you cooked up such a special scheme, just for my benefit. I'm touched. And now you think its funny, to see stupid little Daisuke founder for words because he's not as good at that kind of thing as you are. Oh, yes. I'm glad someone is laughing."
Imagine all of that said with a tone of deep, deep sarcasm.
Daisuke stepped away from Ken, leaning on the sinks instead. He decided to go for the Martyr Pose, wondering what reaction it would draw out of Ken, hoping for an abject apology, for weakness, for something... What he really wanted (but didn't know that he wanted) was to know that it was still in his power to hurt Ken, although that was something he had never purposefully done before.
Fear of loss made Daisuke desperate, and foolish. During Daisuke's speech, Ken seemed to be in danger of busting a coronary. His face turned purple, which combined with his hair, eyes, and clothes to give him and oddly monochromatic look. Lesser boys might splutter at such hurtful and untrue accusations from a dear friend... especially a friend for whom a torch has been carried for a very, very long time. Ken is not a lesser boy. He growled...actually growled! This is not just a picturesque description of a manly sigh... Ken actually bared his teeth and looked remarkably fell. "How dare you? "
Daisuke did not fully appreciate what he was doing to Ken. "Ooohh... that bothers you? Good. Maybe you'll stop seeing Hikari then. Because I don't like it, and won't stand for it. Not if you still want to be my friend."
And there you go-- the Ultimatum.
"You idiot!" Ken raged. "Don't you see, for the fucking sake of Kannon, that it's not Hikari I want? It's you!"
Insert lots of stunned silence.
Daisuke's hands flew to cover his mouth. Ken suddenly stood up straight, experiencing what it is like to be Fully Appalled at himself for the very first time in his existence. "...strike that?" Ken added, in a markedly less angry voice. Almost, a quivering voice.
Daisuke rocked backwards, and then forward, and looked to be suffering from vertigo.
"No, don't." Ken corrected swiftly, less quiveringly. "Don't strike it. I...I have a confession?"
Daisuke made his famous Pained Face, winking one eye shut while looking tortured. "Another one?" he managed, after removing his hands from his face, only to hold then in front of himself and examine them minutely. He was studiously avoiding looking at Ken.
Like any good Japanese male, Ken knew how to turn humiliation into an art form. He turned away slightly, resting his forehead on the back of his hand. "I'm gay."
"No shit."
"Yeah." Neither boy was looking directly at the other. All of the blood had drained from Ken's face, leaving him with a beautiful pallor that destroyed Daisuke when he noticed it, because suddenly he realized that he had a long and illustrious history of noting Ken's countless modes of beauty.
And this is where Ken waited. He waited for Daisuke to say something, small or awkward, it didn't matter. Or maybe it would be okay if Daisuke just moved, or looked up at him, or gave some kind of cue as to what he was feeling. Any cue, that would be okay. Ken felt exceptionally stupid, and as the moment dragged on, he began to feel hated and rejected as well. I killed him. Daisuke is not hardly breathing. He must be disgusted with me.
Ken waited some more.
And some more.
One last chance... I do think so...
Tallness is not an advantage for someone who wishes to communicate his vulnerability. Awkwardly, Ken reached forward for the second time that night, and cupped Daisuke's non-moving face in his not-to-be-trembling hand. Amazingly, Ken really wasn't trembling, but touched Daisuke like a full-grown man might. An experienced man, a knowing man... things that Ken technically was not, and feared that he never would be. He tilted Daisuke's face up, wanting to look into Daisuke's eyes, but Daisuke kept looking downwards. Of course, he looked adorable like that, but adorable and attainable are two very different things.
Daisuke might as well have been in Antarctica for all that Ken felt that he was getting through to him.
"Daisuke?"
And still, nothing: no reaction, no change. Daisuke appeared to be locked in stasis. And then, just when everything seemed most tense... a toilet flushed.
Apparently, a witness had been present, an unknown stranger who had been silent throughout the whole exchange... and who had decided that this moment was as good as any for announcing his presence. Daisuke stepped back reflexively. Ken's hand stayed suspended in the air for a moment, and then he fell back as well.
Ken's eyes darted to the line of stalls, but his desperation was too strong, the sense of Daisuke's skin under his touch too fresh in his mind. Feeling reckless, Ken pushed the point. "Perhaps...I do... love.. you. What do you think about that?" Such a careless risk, with such horrible timing. But in a way, Ken welcomed the presence of the stranger. If he could admit his feelings like this, in front of the world... then those feelings were real. He had often wondered before, doubted whether it was even possible to love someone who had never shared a moment of honest intimacy with him.
Now he knew.
"You really are gay," was Daisuke's non-brilliant response. Things took a while for him to process, and the reality of his suspicions, and Ken's confession, was finally sinking in.
"Yes..." Ken said hesitantly, not understanding why suddenly Daisuke stepped back several minutes in the conversation. This was just remarkably and horrifyingly painful. He doesn't like it..or me. I'm such a fool. I never should have told him.
A cough from the stall. Apparently, the unseen stranger was uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation, despite his earlier eagerness to listen in silently. Daisuke began to blush, and Ken's embarrassment grew more and more acute.
It's all over.
"I need to go," Ken said at last, wanting to spare Daisuke the indignity of turning him down clumsily. I can give him that, at least. Without waiting for an answer, without pausing to look any deeper into those pretty brown eyes, afraid to see the rejection confirmed... Ken fled.
Daisuke stood still, vaguely catatonic as all these revelations washed over him. The sound of the bathroom door slamming revived him a bit, and he looked that way curiously. It occurred to him that he should be doing something. Following Ken! But instead, all he did was lift his hand to touch his cheek, to hold in the warmth of Ken's touch a little longer. This is unexpected... and nice. In a bit of a trance, Daisuke turned towards the door, intending to find Ken and see if he would touch him again. I need to know.
"Pansy." The stranger in the stall mumbled quietly. "Fucking pansy fag."
Daisuke's eyebrows furled. He was still in a state, but something about the rude declaration triggered instincts in him, reflex actions that did not require much tertiary brain function for assessment. "What did you say?" he asked absently, still turned towards the exit, but paused.
"Your friend is a piece of work, pal. I'm surprised you were so nice to that pathetic loser."
Loser...loser... I let him leave...I lost him carelessly. Daisuke wondered, and then reality descended. Above all, for as long as he could remember, it had been Daisuke's chosen duty to defend Ken against all comers. Insults against Ken had been distressingly common, in those early days after the dark spore had been overcome and Ken had to struggle with the pain of building himself up to genius levels from scratch. Oooh, people had been so cruel then, delighting in the humiliation of the child prodigy. Ken had eventually restored himself to a state of perfection, both mental and physically... these things were his birthright, after all. But it had been a lot of work. And Ken had been all alone, in a school full of children who resented and mocked him. Ken suffered through all that without complaint. But then...
How did I find out? Daisuke wondered, as he slipped into the stall right next to where the insult had originated. Oh yeah... Miyako and her Infinite Gossipnet. Daisuke scrambled up onto the toilet seat, and peered down at a suddenly terrified man who was pulling up his pants. I targeted them all, and somehow I won every brawl. The look on Daisuke's face was truly evil, as he bounced a bit, trying to figure out a way to tumble into the next stall. They left him alone after that, damn straight.
Daisuke sighed. "I'm coming on in, you know. Defend yourself if you can." The man barely had a second to breathe, before Daisuke jumped, grappled, and rolled into the little sanctuary. One arm landed in the toilet water, but the bulk of his body slammed into the rude gentleman, knocking the wind out of him and practically winning the fight without having thrown a single punch.
No-one insults my Ken-chan.
MY Ken-chan.
Damn it all to hell, maybe I do love that fucker.

++
"We're here."
"…yeah. Ne, Ken?"
After leaving the bathroom, Ken collected his emotions with almost frightening efficiency, planning to deal with them after the situation with Hikari was sorted out. His pain was like a bleeding ulcer… nothing to feel, really, except a growing sense of anemia and fatigue. Normally Ken was one of those fortunate boys to boast "high color" in his cheeks, a peachy permanent blush on his immaculately textured skin. But after his encounter with Daisuke, that color had fled, and even Hikari had noticed the difference.
Ken couldn't bear to stay in the restaurant for one second longer then he had to, knowing that Daisuke was doing some suffering or…something… in the bathroom. So when Hikari made comment about Ken's Plath-like pallor, he seized upon it as a marvelous excuse. Claiming nausea, he asked if it would be alright to leave early.
Hikari, ever the understanding sweetheart, was quick to oblige.
The walk home back to Hikari's place had been pretty uneventful, besides Hikari's frequent assessments of Ken's healthfulness. Ken wanted to slip into a fugue state, to forget everything and just run away. But down that road lay danger… the Kaizer might find him in that kind of weakness. Besides, mental disorders aren't something that can simply be summoned at will… something needs to trigger them, and they require a susceptible host. Ken did a lot of sighing, and he thought a lot about Daisuke, even though he tried very diligently not to.
And so.. standing in front of Hikari's apartment complex, half suspecting that Tai was spying the exchange from a terrace high above, Ken attempted to give Hikari his All. After all, she didn't deserve to be a party to this deception… especially since he suspected that he was going to be foolish and hurt her some before the night ended. Fallback girl, fallback girl… Ken thought to himself in a singsong way, as he looked deep into Hikari's hopeful eyes.
"Yes Hikari?" Ken answered at last.
Hikari looked down, abashedly twisting her leg at the heel, looking like a very young girl. "I don't know how it was for you…but the experiment…I liked it. Thanks for asking me out."
"It was…good…for me too." Well, what else could he say?
At this point, Hikari would have had to have been fending off kisses from most any other boy who might have spent some quality time with her. But not Ken-she felt like she was the aggressor, having to extract every little reluctant speck of emotion. And subconsciously, this is exactly how she always intended it to be… not just with Ken, but with any boy who she might have dared to like. She never framed her desires in terms of Safety, but in truth, she never allowed herself to experience any speck of romantic affiliation without first reassuring herself that nothing as sticky or unglamourous as sexual intercourse might be the result.
So, feeling safe, she took Ken's hand. "We should…do it again sometimes."
"Maybe." Noncommittal, noncommittal! Ken shouldn't have said that, especially not to Hikari… if he said "I don't know" or "Hmmm," that would have sufficed for a No and Hikari would have understood. She was too familiar with the forms of rejection, having been the Rejecter in many of these little confessionary interludes. Her heart certainly would not be crushed…bruised, yes…but not crushed. And if Ken had had the temerity to say "Of course!" or "How about next weekend," then he would have revealed himself to be a man of Feelings and immediately Hikari's sense of attraction to him would have cooled. The Republic of Yes is not a place that she visits often.
"Mmm?" Hikari murmured, and then did something very bold… she led Ken's hand to her side, and placed his palm just over her waist. And then, she reached up and pulled Ken into a kiss.
It should be noted that the only kind of loving that Hikari approved of was of the elegant sort. So, when she placed her lips on Ken, it was with a closed mouth and not in the French style. She wanted to give Ken something beautiful, something chaste.
This is not what Ken took, however.
Emotionally strung out, desperate for affirmation, and above all, greedily desiring to cease considering himself a Repulsive Creature…Ken decided to go for it. Maybe Hikari's sweetness could erase the shame of Daisuke's rejection. Without considering the possible consequences, Ken decided to kiss Hikari like he had always dreamed of with Daisuke: lips parted, eyes closed, and deeply. Not so much French as Greek: an immoderate style of kiss from a country fraught with passionate lovers.
Needless to say, there was tongue involved.
Ken had never kissed anyone before, and Hikari had never been kissed before like this. She was not appreciating of Ken's natural aptitude, of his forceful touch, of the way that he bent her backwards and practically dared her to breathe. He was everywhere, in her face, and she was overwhelmed. She tried to push him away, but he was far to strong for that, and so she balled up her fists and began to hit him.
It took Ken a few seconds to understand what the pounding on his chest was all about, but as soon as he did, he pulled back, looking confused.
"No no no no no! This is impossible!"
"Hhhuh?" Ken said, huskily. He was beginning to wonder if there might be something to the whole bisexual thing, but that was only because he was mistaking his own breathlessness and quickened pulse for desire. Later he would re-evaluate this and classify it as Understandable Confusion following his first mouth-to-mouth. Much later…right now he felt unpleasant and was back to Repulsive. The whole world hates me! I can't do anything right!
"What the hell was that? Were you trying to impale me?" Hikari said, all traces of her tender affection overwhelmed by the disturbed sense that perhaps Ken wasn't everything he appeared to be. Sure, he was always so gentle and non-amourous around girls… so it didn't make any sense for him to go off like that.
"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry.." he said brokenly, the instinctive response of boys everywhere when confronted with female derision.
"Did you think I'd like that? Did you, did you!?" She resumed pounding on his chest in frustration. "You had no right."
Ken looked down at her, not knowing what to say, and so he said what first popped into his head. "I'm sorry…but, you see… I needed to know…I needed to try…"
"What did you need to know?" Hikari shouted, not caring that she was making a scene. Anything it took, anything at all, to show the world that she was no slut, no oversexual hussy: this was her goal.
Oh, fuck it…Daisuke knows…surely I can tell her, reprehensible monster that I am. "I…oh, Hikari, I'm sorry…so sorry…I think I'm gay…"
Hikari's mouth fell open, and she stopped moving. Guardian of the Crest of Light, the Eight Child, child of prophecy, child of destiny…she paused, paused, paused.
And then she slapped him.
"Get out of here! You heard me! Leave, you jerk! How could you do this…to me?" Ken looked at her, and tried to interject, but she started to push him away. "Go! Now! You are cruel and a liar. You =hurt= me! Go! For the love of…"
Hikari then turned around, and stormed into her apartment complex, not wanting Ken to see the tears, a sign of weakness, an emblem of her willingness to desire him and her deep sense of betrayal. The door slammed behind her, and Ken was left alone in the lamplight, which wasn't enough to hide that he was surrounded by darkness.
"I…I… want to die," Ken said brokenly, unconsciously echoing Daisuke's statement from earlier.
Ken knew what he needed to do.
++
"…on a blanket with my baby, that's where I'll be… (one, two, three and yeah!) Under the boardwalk.. blam!…out =of= the sun! Under the board walk...huh!..we'll be having some ~fun~! Umm..mmm.. well.. Under... the...boardWALK! BOARDWALK!"
After narrowly escaping both juvenile arrest and the damning wrath of his cousin, Daisuke was strolling down the centre of the road with nary a care in the world, singing loudly, obnoxiously, and only barely on-key. The same sorts of people who smiled at Ken and Hikari as they passed preferred to roll their eyes at the undersized little punk who dominated the scene now.
There's nothing like a good fight and American cabana music to clear the head. Pretty well haunted by the way that Ken's bare-handed touch had felt, Daisuke wasn't clear on the implications of Ken's confession, but it seemed beyond doubt that he wanted to try on that feeling again.
Something to think about… how would it be, instead of snuggling with a =girl= on a beach blanket, to spend that same time with Ken? Not just goofing around like they normally would, but doing all of the small little amorous things that he was so used to sharing with his girlfriends? What if Ken were the one to slather the sunscreen on his back and playfully glob it under the waistband of his swimsuit? What if Ken, while rubbing said sunscreen on his back, leaned forward and kissed him behind the ear, and on the neck? What if Ken were the one to be lying next to him while he baked, that long pale body shimmering like a rose petal under the blazing sun, and they touched?
Daisuke's teeth ached, his face felt all funny… and he couldn't stop grinning or singing his silly song. The concept of Ken as the major power and principality in his life was turning him on, withering him and blasting him with heats of sheeting desire. What does it mean? Daisuke wondered gamely, caught up in the surprise and delight of discovering something that he probably should have always known. Ken-gay? And he loves me?
Daisuke really had no opinion of homosexuality. He didn't fear it, and wasn't bothered by it. Whenever Miyako had urged him to consider the possibility for himself, he would always laugh, saying that girls were soft and sweet, and with boys… really, there was no point. It would be like masturbation, nothing special. But then, what might explain this strange warmth and…stiffness…when he contemplated the possibility, with Ken as the object? During the many times that he spent roughhousing with Ken, maybe something important was coursing through Ken's mind, something like desire. What if, when Ken had looked at him, it wasn't just with casual interest, but with admiration? Or lust? Daisuke thought back over as many specific incidents as he could, and he felt shocked to realize how obvious that certain things had been… and how brazenly his friend had asked for it! He had seemed to know, without exactly =knowing=, just how attentive that Ken was, and a more sophisticated part of his brain had tucked that information away for later, to be processed in a time like this.
Why didn't I ever feel like this before? He's so beautiful… why didn't I respond = then= like I seem to be responding now?
The difference seemed to be in the knowing. Ken, so perfect, most high… he deigned to have feelings for Daisuke…real feelings! Ken's persistent solitary datelessness never bothered Daisuke, because there was always the conviction that it was by choice… Ken seemed like a powerful wizard, with drives and needs far beyond those of mortal men. For him to be humanized like this, and for it to be so personal, so passionate… Daisuke couldn't help but respond. He knew that Ken had wanted to be kissed, had wanted to be taken… back there, back in the restaurant. And this was pretty exciting.
Of course, Daisuke was a little bemused, perhaps a little frightened. These were very new feeling for an incongruently familiar object… the possibilities left him dizzy, vertiginous. Pulsing throughout his mental confusion, however, was desire burning like a rash. It spread from the folds in his skin all the way deep into his joints, warm and peculiar and so nicely satisfying.
If I had looked up…or touched him… after all, he's still a virgin. He's still pure…there's so much I can teach him. Ooohh….
New and surprising thoughts. It seemed weird to think of Ken's inexperience as anything that he had any responsibility for, or could possibly do anything about. To see that the reason for Ken's abstinence wasn't apathy…but something else… To realize that he himself had the power to change that, to lift up Ken's purity and taste it, transforming it into something just as beautiful, if not as rare… Oh my fucking lord, my dear and fucking Jesus…am I even worthy?
To imagine so many things, any thing that he had ever done with a girl, then changing the context to Ken and damning the consequences… Daisuke stunned himself by realizing that the mere thought of such adventures was more thrilling to him then many of his actual sexual liaisons had ever been. Those girls… they laid in my bed and I fucked them brilliantly, and it was pretty nice. But it never changed me.
These thoughts…
Just these thoughts, and nothing else…
Ohh…this IS changing me.
Daisuke turned off the sidewalk, onto the platform that would take him to Tamachi station.
Okay, Ken, I'm coming to get you.
Let's try this again, without the stops.

++
Ken fumbled in the dark, trying to find the cords to pull the blinds… There. Suddenly, the apartment he lived in… his parent's place, which sometimes he was able to think of as home… was flooded with a cool artificial light, the night's coagulation of a million small pollutions. Ken stood by the window, glad that his parents were gone for the weekend, so that he could contemplate his own rejected-ness in peace. Blue light fell all over him, and Ken held up his hands, watching the play of shadows as he moved.
This sucks.
He then looked up into the bloated sky, overfilled with the lights of man-- which obscured almost completely the tiny lights of god. The best thing about the Digital World was that its wildness still supported the existence of stars, and Ken used to spend long nights there with Wormmon, just looking up. Here on earth, stars were a stranger, and even the planets seemed subdued.
Light isn't always a good thing.
Sometimes-- it's a stain.
Light-Ken didn't bother to think of it as a metaphor for Hikari, because he never seriously considered himself as an exemplar of Kindness either. It wasn't really his style to employ cruelty towards his friends as a defense against his own feelings of worthlessness, anyway… these thought of light as pollution and stain were not intended to be little mental jabs at Hikari, but rather a bite at his own hopefulness. Light-in his mind, it stood for goodness… and the truth.
What was I thinking? Perhaps they will accept me eventually, the way that Miyako and Takeru have. But it will never be the same… Takeru proved that.
Takeru. Astute, observant Takeru… he figured it out almost from day one. And being the basically honest, good person that he was, he found a way to let Ken know about his suspicions without being offensive or intrusive. Ken had been deeply embarrassed, afraid that maybe this meant that he gave off the gay "vibe," complete with lisp and swishy behaviour. Of course, this was not the case.. and when he articulated these concerns to Takeru, he had been subjected to a lecture on his own prejudices… as if a homosexual person could be homophobic! But this turned out the be exactly the case.. Ken hated himself, and feared the sexuality that was inherent in him.
Ooh, how valuable Takeru's insight had been! "Oh, Ken, I'm way more froofy then you-and I'm totally straight! It's the curse of blondes everywhere." Takeru had been a useful sounding board-most recently, Ken had been attempting to articulate to him some of his feelings towards Daisuke. He assumed that Takeru already knew about it, but was too polite to bring it up so long as he himself was loth to talk about it. But before today, he had been working his way towards Confessing All, and he had held hopes that Takeru would be able to help steer him towards the proper way to approach Daisuke about… well, everything.
Takeru was endlessly kind, supportive, and genuine. In many ways, his friendship with Takeru was ideal. To be completely accepted for what he was-beyond wonderful. But… and this was a huge "but"… Ken couldn't get over the sense that maybe his relationship with Takeru would have been different if his own sexuality hadn't been at the forefront of everything. Heterosexual people can just be themselves, with sexuality just a small fragment of their personality. To be homosexual meant being defined by sexuality.... and all other aspects of his personality seemed to take second place to that.
It's not fair.
Ken expected that Hikari would soon forgive him, and probably would come to feeling sorry over what she had said and done. But why bother? Now, he would be her "gay friend," and things between them would be different. Like they must.
I just want to be myself. Not gay, just myself.
And then, to think of the wreck of what he had with Daisuke… he won't touch me any more. He'll be afraid that I'll be thinking lustfully of him… which will be true, after all… and after a while he will be so uncomfortable that he will seek out reasons to avoid me. He won't give up on our friendship… but it will become a pale and distant thing.
The light of the truth… the truth of his own sexuality… promised to drown out all of the small and precious things about life that he enjoyed. His friendships, his desires, his wishes and hopes… all of these things seemed threatened to oblivion.
Who cares if it's "normal?" Who cares if I can't "help it?" People =will= treat me differently. Daisuke… he will too.
This is killing me.
Ken turned away from the city lights and looked back in towards his apartment, now lit with an artificial gloaming. His eyes strayed towards a cabinet in the living room, where his father stored some grade-A sake.
Time to get fucked.
++

Daisuke's biggest fear in life was enclosed spaces, so it wasn't unusual for him to take the stairs everywhere.. even when it meant climbing the nineteen stories up to Ken's place. Elevators scared the bejeezus out of him. Ken had always known about this little quirk, and was always deeply amused by it. "Belalvandemon would have had a field day with all this bullshit," Ken would grumble good-naturedly, as he would join Daisuke in trundling up any given stairwell. Of all of his friends, Ken was the only one who routinely would join him in the purgatorial ascent… everyone else would just take the elevators and meet him up top.
Just another example of Ken's perfection.
Daisuke felt warm, mildly aroused, and continued to be surprised by the boldness he felt coursing through his veins. Take him. That's what I'll do. I'll let it be without a doubt that I am VERY interested in exploring this… possibility.
When he reached the 19th floor, the faintest sound of music met him in the stairwell. A sort of piano music, an air he could just barely recognize.
What is this?
Stepping out into the hallway, the strains of a vivid melody became stronger, and it struck him with an odd sense of déjà vu, of familiarity tugging at the edges of him memory. He knew that it must be Ken, playing.
Just in front of the doorway to the apartment, it was confirmed that the music filling the hall was originating from inside. Daisuke was surprised to find the door left slightly ajar, as if Ken had been so distracted when he got home that he forgot to close it. Mmm..
Ken's carelessness would become Daisuke's opportunity.
More strangeness awaited him as he entered the foyer… all of the lights seemed to be off, and only the dim glow of the city from the far windows allowed Daisuke to make his way. He took off his shoes reflexively and then slipped into the common area, where the piano would be, and where he expected to find Ken.
It was a sight worth seeing. Ken's back was to Daisuke, and he was playing so noisily that it seemed doubtful that he would have detected Daisuke's entrance. The piano was a small, modest affair, and yet it dominated the living room as a piece of furniture with Presence.
The shallow light lent the whole scene a brooding atmosphere, gentle and yet mildly tragic. The room was otherwise neat, filled with Ichijouji touches. These were things with which Daisuke had attained a high level of familiarity, such as picture frames and bookcases and other personal regalia. The light, so blue, did nothing to make Daisuke uncomfortable with this scene. Ken was too much with him, filling his heart and consciousness with delicious apprehension, for unease to be a factor.
The only unusual thing seemed to be the mess of dress-up clothes carelessly piled up in a corner, and also the bottle of sake recklessly perched atop the piano, coasterless.
Oxford shirt, plain light-colored boxers, and white socks… these were all the clothes that Ken had allowed himself to keep, while sitting down to paint a picture of his emotional turmoil using the timeless medium of sound. Noise, so carefully applied, fanning out in the familiar frequencies that indicated musical notes. These notes were grouped into chords, and strung together into melody.
Daisuke felt transfixed by the beauty of the sight, and the nagging sense that this music was familiar. It seemed to have a significance specific to him, and this extended Daisuke's pause into full blown reverie.
To watch Ken play was to observe asymmetry at its height. The left hand touched on the low notes, rumbling through a cyclical phrase of sound… rolling, repetitious, flowing with the chord shifts to create a complicated background tapestry upon which the right hand picked out a song. The right hand, favored by God and man… it touched the high notes, never crossing the central C. For most people, the right hand is stronger, more supple… this was the hand that drummed out the counterpoint, which was yet again the thesis of the piece.
And again, Daisuke could just recognize the music, almost placing it, but he didn't know the when. He didn't know the why.
It was nearly enough to drive him mad.
But what if… Daisuke tried to reinvent the song as he might have heard it in the past, slowing the melody, imagining it with more mistakes studded throughout. Not with less passion, but definitely with less expertise. A younger Ken, who had to reach just slightly to get his feet to work the stops… Ken without the smarts… a Ken raped of his borrowed gifts, genius no more…
And then, Daisuke knew.
++
Another time, another place.
A specific time… 6 months after the final showdown with Belalvandemon. A specific place… Tamachi elementary, Ken's former den of triumph. Now, arguably, it was Ken's principle source of Hell on Earth.
"Looks like the Kitten-chan is going to pretend to play the piano again! How adorable… how quaint. Shall we call Ticketmaster and reserve seats?"
The only indication that Ken ever made that hinted at how hurt these comments left him was in the way that he let the door slam behind him, as he admitted himself into the sanctuary of the practice room. The doors wouldn't lock, and so he wasn't completely free from annoyances. But the room was soundproofed, keeping out the painful commentary.
More importantly, the room kept in the evidence of Ken's humiliating downfall.
I can't play… I can't perform… I can't =win=. Not anymore. No more photographic memory, no more unnatural dexterity… no more easy triumphs…
And so much fear. I didn't have that before, the fear.
Ken spread out the sheets of music in front of him and then looked at his fingers, cursing them and their ability to forget skills that they had so long ago mastered.
Why do I feel like losing access to the seed of evil took away the most admirable part of myself?
Losing music probably was the smallest thing that Ken had to mourn, but it was also the most public failure. After the Big Bad Evil had been defeated, apocalypse averted, Ken had promised to himself that he would regain every last speck of skill that he had lost. Piano was just one of the many things he was torturing himself over, but it was a skill which he had a keen interest in regaining, for reasons of pride. He wanted to be able to prove his recovery, to his family…to himself… and to certain others, as well.
At the very least, I know I have it within me to be as good as Osamu was. His skills were real, and not contingent upon having some ridiculous evil spore rooting around inside of him.
As usually, whenever Ken thought about things like this, his hand strayed to his neck. Hope seemed like such a faraway prospect, and something that became dimmer with each passing day. He was so alone in Tamachi. He worried that his friendships with the other Digidestined would eventually fade over time, and that he would become a bitter and unlikable failure whose only distinctive quality was that he saved the world, once… and only once, at that.
Of what value is it to save the world and lose one human soul… even if its mine?
Ken sighed, as he positioned his hands over the keyboard, and began to play. A lot, apparently.
It was Daisuke… Daisuke was one of the others… no, THE other… that Ken most felt driven to impress. Already, Daisuke had turned his experience in the Digital World into an unqualified success for himself. Increased confidence had made him more able to concentrate in school, more sure of himself around his family, more alluring to all the girls he knew. Daisuke seemed to be like a rising star, destined for greatness, whereas Ken bitterly concluded that his own star had long ago set.
What if Daisuke realizes this, and abandons me at the last? I wouldn't blame him… but it sure as hell would kill me.
Ken lost himself to his practice, not so overwhelmed with frustration that he was anywhere near quitting in despair. He played and played, the muscles in his fingers slowly limbering up through the repetitions. It felt good to be so lost. He knew he wasn't talented anymore, but at least he had drive, and he was using that drive to transform himself into a different sort of prodigy... the kind that works.
He continued to play, fully occupied by the slow process of improvement. And so, it was completely a shock to him when, after stopping in the middle of a particularly difficult movement, that the pause filled with the sound of clapping.
"What's the name of that piece?" A familiar voice, not mocking him… Ken whirled around to bear incredulous witness to a shamefully bedraggled Daisuke. His friend looked dirty, with a few cuts on his face, crusting blood in his nose, and the signs of potential bruises dotting his arms and face. Was this normal? Abnormal? Ken could hardly tell, anymore. One day a genius, the next not... all certainties had been washed away.
Ken made himself comfortable, leaning his elbow back onto the piano as he eyed his friend…his cute friend… speculatively. "Doesn't matter," Ken responded. "Let's talk about you for a moment, if you please."
"What's to talk about?" Daisuke shrugged, feigning innocence. He was wearing the longsleeves-shortsleeves two-shirt combo that he favoured, the tight longer shirt emphasizing his wiry thinness. Even that seemed to have bruises, but it was just a trick of the light.
"I never asked you to do this for me, you know."
Daisuke laughed. "If I didn't, before long you'd be entering the Witness Protection Program and I'd never see you again."
Ken looked down at that. Of late, he'd come to the conclusion that his sexuality had found an object at last, and yet he'd already at least half given up, before he'd even tried. "I can take care of myself."
Daisuke became serious, and earnest. He leaned forward, putting both of his hands on his knees and looking for all the world like he was about to lecture a small child. "You can't! I've seen you. Despite the fact that you could absolutely destroy any of these jerks in about two seconds flat, you just walk on by, no matter that they take a little bit of your self-confidence every time you let it slide. I know it's not pride. I know it's not because you like to see me fight in your stead. You just…you just…you're just too damn nice!"
Ken leaned back further, a lounging position that would work very well in a throne room. In a cramped practice chamber, with a piano at his back, the effect was muted somewhat. "What do you hope to accomplish, by coming here every day and picking fights? You can't fight them all, you know. You can't fight forever."
Daisuke stood up suddenly, rubbing his wrist quite firmly into his soft spikes of hair. He turned around and looked out the glass window in the door, making a rude gesture to some gawkers in the hallway. They scurried away, afraid of the wild interloper. Daisuke continued to look away from Ken, glowering at the world in general. "You think I can't, when you do it every fucking day?"
Despite the fact that no-one was looking, Ken's face froze into stillness, although his eyes tilted up with curiosity, and his breath quickened. Daisuke never took this tone with anyone else. "What do you mean?"
"I know how you spend your days, and your nights. You don't sleep much anymore, do you? You want to get back to the way you were before… all the genius of the Kaizer, without the fucked-up insanity. And so you study, and practice, and sweat, and fight. You are fighting for your very self, and you don't think that we haven't noticed? You don't think that I…we… don't care?" Daisuke turned back around, and smiled through his mask of injuries. "The penance stops now. You think I'll let these badasses insult the hell out of you, until your confidence is shot? I won't allow it. It's counter…counter…ummm…intuitive?"
"Productive. It's counter-productive."
"What he said," Daisuke addressed an invisible audience. "Look at him, thinking he's so pathetic, when he has more vocabulary then I'll ever know, and can still lick more math problems then I could in a lifetime! On top of this, he plays soccer, =and= piano. Pretty damn well, too. What a fucking embarrassment."
"I'm…I don't…" Ken floundered for a moment, and then straightened. "Thank you, Daisuke. This means more then you could know."
Daisuke shrugged, suddenly all grins and slyness. "Miyako is helping me to pinpoint the targets. A natural disaster, that's what I am. The insults should stop by spring break, this I swear." He reached down to pick his bookbag off the ground, from where he had shrugged it off earlier. "Here." Daisuke tossed a grungy, spiral bound notebook Ken's way.
Ken opened it up, and discovered lots of doodles, of Veritech fighters and Godzilla, of Imperialdramon and Chibimon. "What's this?"
"My Work," Daisuke intoned with mock-seriousness. "You can't be the only Digidestined with Skills, you know…"
Ken found pictures of the Digidestined, a few lightly sketched images of himself and the others. The most recent was an exquisitely detailed portrait of Iori, looking stern. "This is very good…" he said, surprised.
"What? Oh, that. Iori is so easy. He doesn't move for shit."
Ken brushed a few strands of his dark hair out of his face, as he leaned forward to examine the picture more closely. "You should do this. You should practice."
"Me, practice?" Daisuke laughed, but he made a space for himself on the bench next to Ken, playfully scootching Ken out of the way until the taller boy only had about 4 inches of space to hold on to. "Hmm…You really think so?"
"I know so."
Daisuke leaned into Ken, trying to press him all the way off the bench, pleased when his friend finally began to push back, participating in the game at last. "So… are you going to play for me or am I going to have to become violent?"
Ken slid around quickly, while Daisuke remained on the bench, facing away from the piano. "Okay. But stop crowding me." With a little flutter in his heart, knowing that he was nowhere near good enough to play for an audience, Ken began. He hit the round chords of the piece cleanly, if somewhat slowly. Having Daisuke there, pressed into his arm (but not exactly hampering his performance)… well, that made a difference. Hope didn't seem like such a stranger when there was someone to share the moment with.
After he had finished, Ken and Daisuke shared a silent moment, leaning on each other for comfort, for the sake of an alliance that was perfectly suited to them both. "…what was the name of that song, again?" Daisuke asked at last.
Ken turned to look at Daisuke, and then smiled. "The Heart Asks Pleasure First."
Daisuke returned the smile. "I'll remember that."
++
Daisuke's reverie stopped when the music did. And his heart almost stopped when Ken spoke, without turning. "I know you're there," he said, his voice sticky-sounding from the sake. "My beautiful Daisuke. Have you come to torment me some more?"
Torment? Daisuke began feeling miffy, and so he walked up to the piano and grabbed the bottle of sake, taking a rather largish swig before looking down to take in Ken with his eyes, drinking him in with this new lust which left him so quivering and strange. "Maybe. Do you like that?"
Ken laughed, and raised his hand up in the air while limply pointing it at....nothing in particular. Casually, Ken let it hang in front of his face as he tried to remember what he wanted to do with it. "Of course. I love it when you reject me, Daisuke. It makes my day." He giggled at that, obviously thinking he'd said something clever, and then he sighed.
"Who said anything about rejection?" Daisuke took some more of the delicious sake, and then placed his hand on the top of Ken's head, surprised with how fluidly the silky hair moved between his fingers. His hands couldn't help but slide down to the tips, and his fingers brushed against the side of Ken's face, clipping the angle of his jaw and his earlobe.
"You're here to fuck me then. I'd like that. And then you'll reject me. What brilliance!" Ken looked up at Daisuke, his eyes bleary and unfocused. Ken was making a confession here, every word intentional even though he was drunk. The alcohol made his emotions run high, and clouded his judgement… but it couldn't even begin to touch the core of his personality, his love for Daisuke, his bitterness over the evening's events.
"Who said anything about rejection!" Daisuke wanted to holler, but his breath caught as he began to move air more quickly to and from his lungs. Ken's mentioning of sex-- no matter how wrongheaded and stubborn he was being-- was enough to crystallize his resolve, even as it shattered his impetuousness. Daisuke suddenly felt… shy.
"I did," Ken replied calmly, with slow deliberation. "It's okay. My life is a masterpiece of misery. But if you wouldn't mind terribly?" Ken made a broad-based gesture with his hand, waving it about carelessly. "Maybe if you kiss me before you go, it will amplify the irony." Ken arched his head upwards, closing his eyes. "Let's get this over with."
What a bind! Now, more then ever, Daisuke wanted to kiss this frustrating boy… but he couldn't, not while Ken was misunderstanding his purpose in coming. He peeked down at Ken's boxers, hoping for a flash of… Stop that! Conversation before cuddling!
"I remember that music you played," Daisuke said at last.
Opening his eyes, Ken seemed to pout over not having been kissed, but then he lit up with a New Plan. Ken finally figured out what he had wanted to do with his hand-- he began tugging on Daisuke's sleeve, urging him to sit down, to join him. "Here. Sit. If you must stick around, sit next to me. I need you, even if you don't need me." Ken was laughing lowly as he resumed playing the piano.
Daisuke tried to place his hand on Ken's thigh, or on his waist, but Ken merely swatted him away, and continued to play. He's so drunk… so there's only one thing to do. Daisuke took a long shot of sake, swallowing and swallowing until he counted the passage of 10 seconds. And then he listened for a bit, liking the way that the alcohol was transforming Ken's music into gorgeous noise. "I need you too," Daisuke said brightly as he replaced the sake bottle at last, just before he tackled Ken off the bench and onto the floor.
"Rough trade, huh? The way it has to be, when I'm gay and you obviously refuse to be…" Ken said, still with the smile, although he looked sad as well, and of course: unfocused.
Daisuke was laying full over Ken's body, the thin boy radiating a surprising warmth for someone so pale. In the city light, Ken appeared translucent, almost fragile. "You will listen to me, Ichijouji." Daisuke said through gritted teeth, his voice husky with his desires and frustration. "I did NOT reject you earlier. I was just.. .surprised. So why the fuck are you acting like this? How dare you assume that I just came here to use you?"
"Hikari did…" Ken looked to the side, his cultured refinement shining through, even now. Even drunk. "I knew when I asked her out, that things would end badly. It did. She rejected me because I kissed her. Because I kissed her poorly... Of all the things, I didn't expect...." Ken coughed quietly as he trailed off. "Anyways. I'm a monster, unworthy of her. Unworthy of you. Even if you came here for… me… you will leave disgusted. I guarantee it."
"Hikari is delusional." Daisuke said, surprised at what Ken just said, but knowing that he had no time to process it. They… kissed? I won't be his first? Daisuke shook his head, burying outrage. The whole farcical evening was his fault, and if Ken was in pain… well, that was his fault too.
"She seemed perfectly lucid when she slapped me. She thought my kiss was horrid." No longer smiling, or laughing mysteriously… Ken just looked dead inside. "You will too. Everything I touch turns to ashes."
"You talk like a fool, Ichijouji. This is crazy talk. You know that you are NOT horrid, and that 'Kari was just surprised… and let's not talk about her anyway! It's time for me to make a little confession of my own!" Daisuke rearranged himself, so that he wasn't pressing against Ken all over, but only in the most interesting places. He lifted himself onto his hands, and locked his arms so that he could look down at Ken's tragic visage from on high.
"You love me? I love you too. You need me? Me too. You can't live the rest of your fucking life without me? You better not, you bloody fucking bastard. Because I don't know about a lot of things, but I know this. If you don't let me kiss you honestly right this minute, I'm going to wring your fucking neck."
Throughout this speech, Ken's eyes opened wider and wider, and in the dim light his pupils seemed filled with anxious shadows. It was difficult to imagine Ken looking any more beautiful then he did in his day-to-day existence, but Daisuke was pleased to no end to find that this was indeed possible now. This is a side of Ken that no-one has seen, besides me…
"Kiss me, then." Ken said, his voice not really all that deep, but with all the power and control that any boy might desire, despite the sake sliding through his veins. Ken closed those eyes, shutting out the light… and Daisuke took his chances, took a breath, and plunged right in.
Opening his mouth on Ken's, whose lips were almost relaxed and slightly parted… such a new experience. Ken withheld his tongue, having learned his lesson with Hikari, but very gently, Daisuke was able to draw him out, and encourage him to Kiss Back. The rest of Ken seemed unnaturally stiff, a rigidity which Daisuke chalked up to inexperience. Oh, how he cherished that hesitation! But it frustrated him, too. Ken didn't know what to do with himself, not exactly, and whatever natural sense he might have had was banished with Hikari's vote of No Confidence.
So. While Ken was relaxing in stages, daring to believe that this was real and that he wasn't failing miserably-well, Daisuke decided to show off a little of his expertise. One hand remained up near Ken's face, playing with his hair, petting his satin cheeks. The other however… traced downwards. Slowly. Daisuke knew that this might be his only opportunity to teach Ken anything, and so he wanted it to be a good lesson, gentle and glorious all at once.
But first, it was time to check in. Daisuke disengaged from the kiss, and Ken opened his eyes, unable to hide a sense of worry. Both boys were panting. "Are you okay?" Daisuke asked quietly.
"I like this very much," Ken confessed shyly. "mmm..why did you stop? Am I doing something wrong?"
"Not at all." Daisuke kissed the tip of Ken's nose, just so. And he kissed his lips. And then, he allowed his searching hand to find something most interesting through the cotton of Ken's boxers. Ken moaned, as Daisuke tried something that was new, even to him. "Not at all."
++
It was completely unsurprising to Ken that Daisuke made him so weak. He always had assumed that Daisuke would be the one to take control, at least at first... his sheer normalness made him a better candidate for initial romantic leadership. And what did not surprise him also did not bother him: Ken liked to give over to Daisuke, at least in this. At least for today.
And....especially since he was falling-over drunk. Not that this mattered much, seeing as how he didn't plan on leaving the floor anytime soon. But despite the deceptive clarity that passion seemed to afford his thinking processes, whenever he moved his head too quickly or tried to formulate a very complicated assessment of the situation, Ken became sufficient aware that he was a long way away from sobriety. He found himself councentrating on the smallest things, like the way the fan in the window whirred. Or.. or..
Take charge, Daisuke!
"Mmm..." Ken knew that he was famous, both in his school and outside of it, for his beauty and his mystery. People wanted to be with him. Usually girls, but boys had tried to pick him up as well. Those occasions filled him with no small amount of dread and doubt, because he was still young enough to love Daisuke exclusively, and not afraid to reject prospects just on the basis of his own unrequited love. But life had become very difficult for him. To be so sexually cognizant, to be fully aware of the things that he wanted to do.. and yet abstain? Very, extremely difficult.
It had been a challenge. But worth it. Extremely. All that abstinance would surely pay off.... the fan is going, the ceiling has 4 lights in it, Daisuke is holding me ever-so tightly.... bring it on, baby!
"Ohh... Daisuke.. my Daisuke..." Daisuke was still kissing him passionately, the sake-taste in both of their mouths commingling with their natural flavour to make... a difference. Ken could tell that Daisuke was struggling to hold back, to go slowly, because he must have figured that that would be how Ken would want it the first time. Ken smiled into Daisuke's mouth. He might be trying to go slow, but that didn't stop him from slipping my underwear off anyway.
All that Ken had left was the shirt...he had kicked the socks off of his own volition. The crumpled oxford, white and still crisp around the collar, was all that stood between him and absolute nakedness. And even that was unbuttoned quite recklessly down the front, so that Daisuke could explore Ken's body pretty much unfettered. It was obvious to Ken that Daisuke was getting a tremendous kick out of the novelty of it all, but the thing that soothed his fears and doubts wasn't Daisuke's enthusiasm, but his tenderness. His touch was so careful, not hesitant but clearly appreciative of Ken's responsiveness, and aware.
Ken wanted to see what he could do with his own hands, and decided that Daisuke's pants zipper would be a wonderful place to start. Turnabout is fair play, after all... and he really wanted to try out some of the shameless maneuvers that Daisuke was inflicting upon him. But with his breathing so quick and shallow, and with his fingers shaking so, it took him a while. And all during this time, Daisuke was slicking him up, making a mess of kisses all across his chest, giving him an erection so hard and insistent that he felt most sure that he would die if things didn't crest along more quickly.
Daisuke-led sex would be, by definition, vanilla sex. It's not that he didn't have an imagination, it's just that he liked to stick to what's tried, true.. and above all, quick. The things he was doing to Ken were all basically things he liked to have done with his own body. He liked to be played with in a certain way, to be touched and fondled just so... Ken understood this, that Daisuke was giving him the kinds of stimulation that he himself enjoyed. Mentally, this was a tremendous turn-on, whereas physically?
Ken was completely ready.
Me or him. That's how it will be.
Once Ken got his hand down the front of Daisuke's pants and began to stroke him earnestly, he just felt so perfect, so wonderful... so giving... He's running this show. It should be him.
Ken was feeling tremendously loved. The blue light that gave him such an ethereal glow worked on Daisuke in a different way, making the duskiness of his olive skin seem almost darker, and his normal rosy glow was blotted out. Daisuke's hair seemed darker, almost black...the red candy-color of his hair was faded as well. And his eyes, now. Dilated from the insufficient light, and already dark to begin with... Daisuke was really quite something, and the glimmer of sweat tracing his temples made him out to be a young demigod.
"Take me..." Ken whispered. "Do it now."
++
Daisuke felt himself released from the confinement of his pants, Ken practically teasing him out of them into a full blown erection. Ken did something to push down both pants and underwear, although he didn't seem to have the patience to push them very far. Daisuke had to take an excruciating 20 second break kicking them off, cursing under his breath as he did so. The only thing that made this bearable was the seductive way that Ken writhed underneath him, who was also in torment during the momentary cessation of contact.
Daisuke let his pleasure be known to all and sundry with a side-splitting groan, when his naked sexuality came into blistering contact with Ken's aroused penis. So used to the lock-and-key arrangement of sexual intercourse, this was so strange, impossible... deadly sexy. Anyone who was friends with Miyako for any length of time knew the mechanics of the any kind of intercourse, down to the most mind-numbing detail. But to actually experience it, to feel a male body under his own...
Let's just say that Daisuke knew then and there that gay sex was absolutely nothing akin to masturbation.
Before Daisuke could say "how you doing?," Ken began to spit all over his hands and rubbed the spit onto Daisuke's penis, getting it slick and prepared. This also tacitly let Daisuke know exactly how he wanted it, which caused Daisuke to draw in a breath, feeling something not unlike performance anxiety. It shouldn't have surprised him that Ken would be up to speed on something so basic such as the need for lubrication... but it did. And welcoming this thought into his head merely meant that he had to assume that Ken knew a lot of other extraneous things as well.
Never underestimate the modern-day virgin.
++
In the end, every man just needs to come.
It doesn't matter his status in life, his stated goals and desires, or even his general fortitude or views towards sex. Even the most Tantric male needs to let loose, sometimes. Ken has no odd spiritual beliefs regarding the purpose or place of orgasm, but in his drunkeness he was as close as he ever would be to just forgetting about the whole thing altogether and going to sleep, despite his arousal. And yet, having long since passed the threshhold for when orgasm stopped being desirable and became inevitable, Ken could drink another bottle of sake and never get a wink of sleep, not with this Business he needed to take care of.
The things I do for love...oh, no. Wait. The things I =get= for love.
Daisuke had been quick to figure out the reason for the spit-polish, and yet had been somewhat hesitant upon inserting his favourite organ into such a .... delicate... area. But with all the conviction of a dying man, Ken forced the deed, knowing that his orgasm would be long in coming if Daisuke decided to require coaching. Damn, I don't know how to tell him what to do!
It was a moment of beauty, of sheer animal pain and bliss, when Daisuke first insinuated himself up Ken's ass. Ken was unprepared for the weird sense of pressure, or how it interacted with his state of arousal. As for Daisuke... well, Ken had clamped down almost immediately. Need more be said? Daisuke was almost mad with the position, with the beautiful look of destruction on Ken's face, with the whole conceptual framework of what he was doing.
"Ergh...oh god. Oh good god, yes!"
It was at this point that Ken decided that it didn't matter if he were good at this-- or terrible. All he knew was that he tremedously enjoyed the array of sensations that were coming with every motion that Daisuke made, from the brush of his hand to the highly intimate way that he moved within him. Obviously, this was a subject worthy of further investigation.
Ken could spend the rest of his life studying sex.
Earlier that night, both boys had separately wished for their own death. And now they had it, if not in a form that they could have predicted. In pain, in insane pleasure, in bliss, in affection, in trust, and in revelation: they died. Not a phyiscal death... their bodies were far to young to be possibly punished with that consequence of extreme arousal. But this was a more potent form of death, a stripping away of artifice. With Daisuke inside of him, Ken felt lifted above his prior self, and when Daisuke thrust deeply within him, it became the most spiritual event he could possibly imagine.
Daisuke brought his hand around Ken's penis to finish the job. Ever the gentleman, even until the end.
And how was the sex itself? Brisk, flawed, and yet completely perfect. It happened so quickly, and yet was eternal in its scope. The boys themselves had it within them to make it so. For a moment, the moment was eternal, and from kiss to climax, stasis reigned.
Without changing, the boys were transformed, a Jogress of their own existence that destiny had laid out for them since the day that a sparkling Digivice shot out of a computer in Tamachi, identifying the Ninth Child to the world.
-Fini-