Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ From Beginning To Now ❯ From Beginning To Now ( Chapter 1 )

… Old. Old, old fanfic I wrote sometime in middle school and revised… probably my freshman year… but whatever, hi. I don't exactly write Digimonfic anymore (or I'm not supposed to—I keep breaking this rule as of late), but here's an ode to my old obsession. I never actually liked Daiken, actually, but… whatever, they were in love. God. Enjoy this (I guess).

 

From Beginning to Now

“Daisuke?”

I am awake, barely, yet not quite ready to give in. This bed is comfortable and I'm enjoying the ability to spread out without having to rest my feet atop my personal cornucopia of magazines, lost homework, and sports gear. There is no smell of rotting pizza from the bedside table. I burrow my face farther into a soft pillow; it has the gentle smell of lavender—

What the fuck?

“Daisuke.” A hand reaches out to shake my shoulder and my eyes open of their own accord. Ken is sitting cross-legged on the side of the bed, his pretty eyes narrowed in abject boredom. Upon seeing that I've awakened he smirks and brushes a strand of storm-blue hair out of his face. “… Well. Good evening.”

“... Uh. Yeah.” I rub my blurry eyes and look at him curiously. “What time is it? ... And why am I in your bed?”

“About twelve-thirty, I'd say, judging from the digital clock to your right. And I tried resisting, but you wouldn't take `no' for an answer.”

I kick him. “I hate you, Ichijouji.”

“That isn't what you were saying a couple hours ago.”

“Be serious for once, Ken.” I partially consider dropping off again before the first part of what he had said comes back to me. “... Did you say `twelve-thirty'?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

My eyes pop out of my head as I struggle to scramble into a sitting position. The clock on his bedside table does, indeed, read twelve-thirty—twelve-thirty-three, to be exact. I had been over at Ken's, I remember that now... but... fuck... “I fell asleep?”

“Well, yes, it appears you did. Have you started to play video games all night again, or is this something else?”

“No,” I say bluntly, glaring at him and completely ignoring the second part of his question.

“I see.” He looks at me thoughtfully and I get the feeling I should have made something up. So what if I haven't been sleeping very well lately? It isn't exactly his business... “I'm assuming you'll want to leave now.”

I hesitate. “... Are your parents home?”

“No.”

I raise an eyebrow. “This late?”

“I think they`re both suffering a midlife crisis at the same time. It's probably not in my best interest to ask them where they go at night. ”

I give him a withering look and flop back over onto his bed. “Did you really need to tell me that?”

“Of course.” He's got that thoughtful look on his face again. I turn over to face the window. “What about your parents?”

I roll my eyes. He won't see. “They won't even be home, but... you know… Jun'll go ballistic. She can't stand passing up a chance to scream at me.” I look over my shoulder at him, troubled. “... Any way I can get home?”

Ken just smiles at me in a frightening way. “You could always spend the night, you know.”

“... No way in hell.” I leer at him, my heart going a million miles a minute. “When did you get so perverted?”

“I was never perverted.”

“Yes, you were. Are.” I kick him again. “Get off of your bed.” He does so, albeit sullenly. “Now, Ichijouji, tell me how I'm going to get home without being dragged into a dark alleyway and mugged and/or raped.”

Ken shrugs, inspecting a stray thread on his comforter with utmost scrutiny. “I could always go with you.”

I scowl. “Be serious, Ken.” In all honesty, Ken's coming with me would improve my chances of being abducted to the point that I'd be the one protecting him.

“I am.” He brushes a lock of violet hair out of his eyes before continuing. “In fact, Daisuke, if you leave and I don't go with you, I'll spend the entire night worrying about you, so you're either staying here or I'm going with you.” He does look serious, his arms crossed over his chest tightly, violet eyes flashing with determination... I sigh uncomfortably, and close my eyes. “I wouldn't offer to if I wasn't serious.” There is a pause in his monologue. “I would prefer it if you decided to stay here, though.”

I open one eye. “Well, I'm going home, okay? Don't worry about me.”

He rolls his eyes at me. … And now I feel like an idiot. Dammit. “Just telling me that isn't going to make me worry less.”

“So?” I mutter, feeling remarkably like a sulky child. Dammit. “Don't act so much like an old woman.”

“I'm a guy, Daisuke. If you'll remember.”

“Sometimes it's kind of hard to tell.”

He smiles at me in a surprisingly genuine way. My other eye opens and I watch him warily, put off-guard. “So you think I'm pretty?”

I stare at him intently, sitting up again to search his face for any sign of sarcasm... clean. What the hell is he playing at? “... Um...” Of course I thought he was pretty. He WAS pretty, whether I thought so or not. He had the kind of face that even girls wanted, with his huge violet eyes and longish hair of almost the same color, and that pale skin that somehow managed not to look pasty, even under a glaring spotlight. And if you managed to catch him in a mood where he wasn't going to make fun of you--if you were me, anyway--he would give you this brilliant, beautiful smile, that always made me feel as if I would be okay, that everything would be okay, as long as I would live to see him smile like that again--

“Daisuke?”

I blink, coming out of my reverie. Ken has taken a seat beside me again, and I can't help but feel that he's much too close. “... What?”

The expression on his face shifts slightly. I have no idea what it reads. “What are you thinking about?”

“… Life,” I say lamely, which is entirely true, if not to-the-point.

I expect Ken to raise his eyebrows and mock me, but instead he chuckles softly, watching me with mild amusement. “What about it?”

I look at him. I haven't a clue what the expression on my face reads, but it must be something Ken isn't used to seeing from me, as he has pulled away slightly, and is looking back at me in a peculiar way--could he be nervous? “... Daisuke--”

Without being entirely sure of what I am doing, I reach out and grab his shoulders, pulling him roughly towards me.

But I'm nervous, much too nervous, and as I pull a bit too hard the two of us (with a loud squeak from Ken) fall off of the bed and, after rolling over a couple of times, come to a bumpy stop, a mass of tangled appendages.

Ken, who has somehow ended up on top of me, slowly gets up--or, at least, I assume he has, as the weight resting on me recedes; my face is pressed into the carpeting, and I have no intention of moving any time soon. The complete stupidity of what I have just attempted dawns on me; is now hitting me in wave after wave of sick humiliation. Things will be all weird between us now, even if he doesn't realize what I had been trying to do, and what the hell am I doing, anyway? This is Ken, we've been best friends for three whole years... why am I always so stupid...?!

Before I can crawl out of the room in a humiliated fashion, I hear a low sigh, barely more than a breath of air, from just above my head, and here are Ken's arms, surprisingly strong for all his feminine beauty, pulling me into his chest and wrapping around me; almost without thinking about it I grab the front of his shirt and refuse to let go, still far too embarrassed to chance looking him in the face. I don't think I would care in the slightest if his parents happened to walk into the room right now or what the two of us even look like, enveloped in each other's arms on his bedroom floor--all is right with the world, the planets have aligned, and I am content with just being here, my breathing shaky and his surprisingly even despite the shivers that I can feel beginning to race up his spine.

I'm not sure how long it is that we stay this way, the buzzing in my head and giddy feeling in my stomach mounting as Ken's fingers become entangled in my hair--it might have lasted forever had Ken not pulled away, entwining one of his hands in mine as soon as we part. His fingers are cool to the touch, and burn. “… Daisuke.”

I continue to stare at his knees, wishing and needing to bury myself in his arms again, yet unable to move at all.

“Daisuke.” He brushes his fingers past my cheek, and I look up at him abruptly, my eyes wide and most likely pitiful looking. He doesn't look much better, his expression something just short of agony. He looks like he is trying to control himself, but the mask keeps slipping; I often catch a glint in his eyes of something that scares me deeply, something I'm not sure I want to see. “You... you have to--”

“I'll stay here tonight,” I blurt out, then immediately cast my eyes down again. “... I... I mean...” What do I mean? I'm not quite sure.

There is a silence now—not uncomfortable or awkward, yet somehow painful. I feel the urge to begin babbling about anything I can, just to rid myself of that horrible lack of words, but somehow force myself to stay quiet, determined not to act like an idiot for once. Ken is still looking at me, I can tell, though it would be impossible to discern the expression on his face without looking up again. I'm considering just getting up and running out, going back on my promise to him--but no, I can't do that, especially now that... that what? What has just happened? What is happening now?

“What's wrong?” Ken's voice is gentle as he squeezes my hands ever so slightly. Dammit. Dammit, what's wrong with me?

“Headache,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and barely audible. It's entirely true—it has begun to pound steadily since I found myself wondering what exactly has changed between us. This whole thing is probably my fault, I think tiredly, bitterly, for falling asleep here in the first place--

“You trying to think again?” Ken asks, chuckling softly.

What? “Shut up, Ichijouji. I got a good score on my last English exam.”

He stands up, bringing me along with him. He's still so close. “I still don't get how you've become so good at English.”

“I'm talented.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And what will you do with your numerous talents?”

I release his hands to elbow him in the stomach. “I'll do American things.”

“And what is it Americans do?”

I think for a moment. “... Oh… fuck... eat hamburgers?”

He snaps his fingers. “And watch movies all the time.”

“Exactly.”

Ken laughs, mostly to himself. “Do you still have a headache?”

“Ah... yeah, kind of. Do you have any pills for me?”

“I'm not drugging you, Daisuke.”

“Shut up, Ichijouji.”

“Mmm...” He frowns, serious now. “... I think there's some Advil in the kitchen or something...”

“Lead me to it.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“... I'm going to hurt you, Ken.”

+

Within five minutes we are normal again. The night's earlier undertakings never completely leave my mind, but definitely take a backseat to our annual sleepover proceedings—that which include:

gather all of the junk food in the house (the junkier the better)

make an obnoxious tent in the living room

prank-call Miyako and tease her about a nonexistent male voice in the background (we can practically hear her blush over the phone)

watch junk horror movies, prank-call Hikari and ask what color her underwear is (she recognizes our voices and tells us to go to hell)

prank-call Takeru and repeat the last action, only in our falsettos (which doesn't seem to work; he tells us the same thing Hikari had)

contemplate how to prank-call Iori but come up with nothing that would effect him

make our makeshift tent a hellhole of crushed popcorn and candy wrappers, forcing Ken to have an allergic reaction to the mess and order me to clean up

… Etcetera. Under normal circumstances Ken's parents would have arrived in the middle of me being forced into backbreaking labor, their supposedly kind son flopped over on the couch giving me orders, but their impeccable timing appears to be off this time; it is around three in the morning and neither one of them is home yet, sober or not.

It is at this point that Ken and I decide simply to go to bed, as both of us are about ready to drop dead (not that either of us would admit to it), so we partake in abducting all of the pillows and blankets in the apartment, and Ken switches off the light.

More than five minutes after he has done this I am still awake, staring off into the darkness. I feel completely exhausted, and elated, and more comfortable than I usually am in my own bed, but my mind simply won't shut off. Now that I've been given a chance to think I'm unable to stop; I remember the secure feeling of being in Ken's arms, the warm rush of his breath on the back of my neck—and I can't help but shiver, my stomach giving a solid lurch. “... Bullshit.”

“What's bullshit?” Ken's voice whispers, and I jump; I was sure he had fallen asleep. “Having trouble getting to sleep?”

“Just a--” I am unable to finish my sentence--Ken has, without warning, made a space for himself right next to me and wrapped his arms around my neck. “… Ken?”

“... Damn you, Daisuke, you got most of the blankets...”

“Ken, what're you doing?” I whisper, my voice unusually dry and shaky. He appears to have that effect on me.

I can't see his face, but I swear Ken is grinning. “You said you'd stay with me tonight.”

I'm surprised my face doesn't burst into flames from the force of the blush that spreads across my cheeks. “... Ken--”

He giggles, sounding remarkably like a little girl. An evil, bratty, horny little girl. “You're really perverted, Daisuke. You know that, don't you?”

I kick him the best I can. “Fuck you.”

“Ow.” He snuggles up closer to me, and I have to remind myself to breathe. “I don't think you like me very much.”

“I think you're mistaken.”

We lay in silence like that for a few minutes, listening to each other's quiet breathing, until Ken shifts and whispers in my ear, “Where are we now?”

I lean slightly towards him, the heat of his breath having flushed straight through me like a poison. “... In your living room?”

“You know what I mean.”

I do. Not sure of the answer he wants to hear, I answer truthfully. “I don't know.”

We are quiet for a bit longer, until Ken speaks up again, almost shyly. “Can I... would it be all right if I stayed here for tonight?”

“If you want,” I say carelessly, one of my hands reaching out to snake around his waist. He's slender and pretty, sure, but he doesn't feel much like a girl. Not in the slightest. “I don't mind.”

He says nothing more, just burrows a little further into my arms. As my eyes close I tell myself to remember the exact way our bodies fit together as we lie here, the steady beat of my heart next to his—stifling all thoughts of what the hell we'll end up telling Ken's parents when we both wake up in the morning. For the moment there is me, and there is Ken—and just for right now, it's enough.

+

… So yeah. Pretty cute little one-shot. I much prefer my Daisuke uke… and with Takeru… but hey, beggars can't be chosers. … Except I wrote this, so I don't know what that means. … Whatever.