Something Missing

Chapter Four: The Smell of Grass

Sora didn’t sleep well that night. She had called Yamato when she got home to tell him that she couldn’t make his gig—almost blurted out what she had done—and hung up. She had showered and gone to bed early, mostly to avoid Mimi, who would have known something was wrong in an instant.

As it turned out, however, she needn’t have bothered. Mimi stumbled in about midnight with Jyou, whom she dragged into her bedroom and proceeded to ravish three and a half times—the fourth cut short by Jyou’s beeper going off. As a hospital intern, he was on call in case something big happened; a thirteen car pile-up met that criteria. And, of course, courtesy of the thin walls, Sora was also privy to the fact that Jyou was ticklish in some very interesting places.

Mimi’s “fling” with Jyou, as she persisted in calling it, had gone strong through the week. Jyou had slept at Mimi and Sora’s dorm every night but Monday, and spent most of his free time there as well. Sora had strongly suspected Mimi’s feelings for Jyou ran quite deep for a while, and this confirmed her suspicions. Sure Mimi insisted upon the relationship’s transience, but Sora had never seen Mimi so happy—and Mimi was a happy person. Being with Jyou made her radiate, and if Jyou’s eyes were any indication, he was falling hard, too. Sora was happy for her friends; she just wished she didn’t have to hear certain things through walls.

At six in the morning, Sora accepted the fact that she would get no more sleep, and stumbled into the kitchen. Searching for something to eat, she opened cabinets, the refrigerator, and finally, the freezer. The pint of fudge mint ice cream stared back at her, knowing her sins. It was a symbol of Yamato’s love and never-ending care of her, of his devotion and kindness. Of what she had betrayed.

Her stomach growled. Well, she would just have to eat it in penance, torture that it would be.

Taking it and a spoon to the couch, she sat and reached for the remote to turn on the TV, but she couldn’t. She blinked back tears. What was she going to do? Monday had changed the way she looked at her best friend, but she had tried to convince herself that no serious damage had been done—that the problem would go away on its own if she gave it time. Yesterday evening was proof that such was not the case. She was steadily more drawn to Taichi, not less—even though she had gone out of her way to avoid him all week. What she had done with Taichi beneath that tree also land marked another event: she had cheated on Yamato.

They had been together for four years. Four good, happy years—no serious hitches and almost no fights or disagreements to speak of. She remembered when she had first fallen for Yamato, back in the Digital World. He was so angry, so unhappy, and so uncontrollable. Yet he had been vulnerable as well. His friendship and loyalty was not easily won, but with it came absolute trust. She and Taichi had both earned that, and, now, had both insulted it. Taichi was her best friend, but he was also Yamato’s; there wasn’t anyone she could think of that she could have fooled around with that would hurt Yamato more. But Taichi was the only temptation she had ever had to cheat.

She and Yamato didn’t have sex nearly as often as they had in the beginning; in fact, they were averaging once a month currently. But that was just because they had been together so long, wasn’t it? Every relationship had ups and downs and this was just a down period. Still, even when she and Yamato had been at their hottest for each other, she had never been as excited, as wet, as she had been with Taichi yesterday. It wasn’t that Yamato wasn’t skilled, or attentive, or adventurous—quite the opposite was true. He had all the finesse and technique Taichi lacked, but there was something in the raw heat, the aggression of Taichi that awoke a part of her Yamato had never been able to touch.

In some ways, what was happening with Taichi scared her more than the situation with Yamato, because she knew how she felt about Yamato. Seeing Taichi naked, watching him touch himself, had been the catalyst for something big. But Sora didn’t know if “something big” simply translated into “tidal wave of lust.” When she looked at him, she felt love—she knew she did, but she didn’t know if it was any different than the friendship love she’d felt before, that she’d carried for years. Her body now saw him differently, but did her heart? In the hot haze that clouded her vision every time she was around him now, she couldn’t tell.

Tears fell into the ice cream. She was going to lose them both over this, she knew it. She had to tell Yamato, and he would leave her. Then, she and Taichi would feel too guilty to explore their relationship and they’d fall apart. The two people she loved most in the world would be gone, and they would be gone because she had hurt them.

Sora looked up as she heard a door open. Mimi shambled into the room, her sexy pajamas covered by a silk robe, yawning. She saw Sora and stopped. She didn’t ask why Sora was crying, she didn’t say anything. She just walked over, sat next to her friend, and put her arms around her. Sora lost control in Mimi’s comfort, silent tears becoming blubbering sobs.

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The stadium was full, congested even. It was a college soccer game, but it was also a religion. Even people like Izumi Koushirou found themselves there. Sora waved to him, motioning that the group had saved him a seat. She was sitting next to Yamato, Takeru and Hikari sitting at his other side. The others were sitting in front of them, Mimi and Jyou huddled together. Daisuke hadn’t arrived yet, and Taichi, of course, was playing. The energy people were giving off was combustible; everyone wanted a win. But Sora was tense for a different reason. She hadn’t been able to get Yamato alone all day to tell him about yesterday, and was losing her nerve. She couldn’t do it here, at a game, in front of all their friends. It would have to wait, but meanwhile she was steeped in guilt.

Koushirou sat down next to her and she gave him a hug; it had been a long time since she’d last seen him. He had spent months in the Digital World conducting various experiments with her father and Jyou’s brother, Shuu. The group welcomed him and offered various junk foods they had stockpiled for the occasion.

He talked to Sora a while about her father and some of the advances they had made in their studies, but then the conversation wandered elsewhere.

“You look sick, Sora. Are you alright?”

She gave a strained smile. Was it that obvious something was wrong? “I’m just feeling a little queasy, nothing much.”

“Well, don’t vomit on me, please. Then I’ll start.”

“I’ll aim for Jyou and see if he still passes out at the sight of bodily fluids.”

Koushirou laughed. “I would assume he’d have to be over that, working in a hospital and all.” He saw that Mimi and Jyou’s fingers were intertwined. “Hey,” he asked Sora, “are they . . . ?”

Sora didn’t need to answer because Mimi licked Jyou’s ear.

“Ah,” said Koushirou, almost like he was observing animals in the wild. Then he laughed. “Jyou’s going completely red.”

Jyou turned around and threw a gummy worm at Koushirou, which was picked up from where it landed after hitting its target’s face by a boy wearing goggles. Daisuke then put the gummy in his mouth.

“Did you guys save me a seat?”

Miyako reluctantly moved her backpack from the seat next to her and let him sit, general grumbling and teasing all around. But then, quite suddenly, that stopped as first one person, then two, then all, saw who was behind him.

“Oh, yeah,” said Daisuke. “Is there room for my sister, Jun?”

For a moment, no one moved. Then Koushirou politely asked the man next to him to move down.

Sora felt Yamato clench her hand and scoot closer to her in an affectionate and possessive way. She squeezed back. She knew he was just trying to send a clear message to Jun that he was, quite happily, taken. She smiled at him, for the moment her indiscretions forgotten, mouthing to him that she loved him. It may have been her imagination, but he seemed to blanch for a moment at her words. But that couldn’t be right; she told she loved him all the time, so she assumed it was something Jun had done over her shoulder. Turning around, she looked at Jun, but the girl was talking to Koushirou and not even looking toward her and Yamato. In fact, in a manner that was completely out of character, Jun was calm and subdued, and hadn’t so much as said hello to Yamato.

Sora didn’t have time to speculate on this, however, because the game was beginning, the announcer’s voice booming as the players took the field. Taichi gave a vague wave in the direction he knew they were sitting, then took his position.

The game carried the intensity that young pros brought to a sport, but Taichi stood out to Sora—gleamed almost, as humiliating as that thought was. He was energy. He was the best, the dominant player on the field, and he knew it—but that wasn’t the reason he knew. Taichi’s ego was completely independent of his abilities. He would think he was the best even if he weren’t—he would think it even if he had never played. It was a personality trait which had always fallen somewhere on the scale between amusing and annoying for Sora, but tonight, for the first time, she saw a simple magnificence in it. Focused completely on his movement, his power, she was breathless. He was . . . beautiful.

She couldn’t believe it; he was a good quarter of a mile away, paying no attention to her, and he was making her horny.

As the game ended, she excused herself to go to the bathroom. She had to compose herself before she went down to congratulate him on his win. If she wasn’t careful she’d just break down in front of everyone. She considered not going down at all, but that would make everyone wonder, and Yamato was her ride home. So she took a deep breath and headed down to where everyone would have gathered: a small alley near the locker rooms where Taichi would meet them after every game.

The crowd parted as she approached. “We waited for you, Sora,” Hikari announced.

In panic, Sora remembered. In a tradition she and Taichi started when they were on the same soccer team as kids, she was always first to hug him after a game. Even his parents and sister had to go after her. The whole crowd of friends and families was watching her expectantly, and she felt something give a sickly roll in her stomach. She walked up to Taichi, who looked as uncomfortable with this arrangement as she did, and stiffly, hesitantly, put her arms around him.

She closed her eyes as she did, but what she should have done was plug her nose. He smelled of fresh sweat and grass—the way he had smelled yesterday night. She caught herself breathing deeply, getting dizzy, heat gathering at the juncture of her legs. God, he was too close. She backed away suddenly, bumping into Daisuke and barely noticing—she had to get away from him.

While everyone else was giving Taichi his victory hugs and handshakes, Yamato approached her. “Are you alright, Sora?”

“Take me home.”

Yamato nodded. “Jyou,” he called, “can you take Takeru home for me?”

“Sure.”

“Okay,” he said, putting his arm around her, “let’s go.”

The ride to her dorm was silent; Yamato was stealing worried glances, and Sora was composing herself, dreading what was to come. She was going to tell him.

After asking him to have a seat, she offered him a drink.

“Yeah, I could do with something cold.”

She knew he was probably expecting something alcoholic, but she wanted him dead sober for this. So she brought in two cans of soda and held one out to him. When she looked at his face, she saw that he was looking at her chest. Glancing down, she saw that a button had come undone on her blouse and a glimpse of a lacy bra was on display.

Sora couldn’t help but be dismayed at the shiver of desire that didn’t go through her. She was with her boyfriend, an unreserved pretty-boy who was elegantly handsome in the most masculine way, a musician with that whole rebel look put to work for him, a boy she loved, who loved her, and he was ogling her. Yet she felt not even the least bit tempted—not when there was someone she wanted so much more out there.

Then she got angry. How could she not want him? She must, she had to, she was supposed to. She kissed him, fairly attacked him; she would prove he could still turn her on.

Yamato seemed surprised by her onslaught, but not unpleasantly so. His arms went around her and pulled her onto his lap, trying to catch up to her pace. When it took him too long for her liking she pushed him down so that he was lying on the couch, and then she straddled his hips. Yamato had never taken her roughly, and it was about time he did. She would provoke him, get him worked up.

She yanked his jacket and t-shirt off, exposing his lean, bare chest. His eyes were wide; she’d never been like this before. Her hands rubbed his nipples and she closed her eyes as her mouth fell to suckle the skin above his pulse. He groaned and she moved her mouth to one of his pecks, dragging her teeth back and forth across the nipple. Her free hand trailed to the fastenings of his pants. Once undone, she slid her hand through the opening and began to stroke his stiff length.

He was beginning to respond with the kind of treatment he was getting, her blouse and bra finding their way to the floor. He pushed her off his chest, raised his head, began sucking on her nipple, and squeezing her other breast almost painfully.

She was still jerking him in his pants as her head lolled back and she cried out to him.

It took her a moment to realize that he had stopped moving. Then he pulled both her hands from his body and she opened her eyes.

“What?” he asked, panting from their activities.

“What?” she asked in response to his ‘what.’

He pushed her off him and sat up. “You . . . you called me Taichi.”

Her eyes went wide as she realized that, she had indeed called him by their friend’s name. She blushed and hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Yamato stood, fastening his pants. Sora suddenly felt obscenely exposed with her breasts naked before him, and she covered them in shame.

After a taking a moment to compose himself, he turned to her. “Were you thinking of him?”

She could not lie to him now. “Yes,” she said quietly.

Slowly, she looked up. Yamato was staring at her as though he didn’t know her. He stooped to pick up his clothes, then stormed from the apartment, closing the door with a slam.


A/N: Sorry, yesterday was hectic, so I didn’t get a chance to post. I know the whole crying-out-another-guy’s-name-in-the-sack thing is cliché, but I couldn’t resist. I’m sorry this chapter wasn’t that spicy, and the next one won’t be either, but a really good lemon is coming, I promise.

Tons of people reviewed for the last chapter and that makes me so happy, especially with how many are repeat offenders. SassieLassie988, I’m ecstatic you like this, because your Digimon story was what made me want to write this fic in the first place; I have it listed on my recommended reading page. I know that sounds stupid because I didn’t review it, but I do stupid things like that sometimes. I’ll go review it right now; my bad. Blue Vixen, AnimeBabesGoneWildWithMe and chi-chi, you guys are great. I like to know that people who liked what I was doing a few chapters ago still like what I’m doing. SkittleSama and Summa Lovin’, thanks for throwing in your two cents; it takes time to write even the smallest reviews, and I appreciate that you were willing to spend that time on my story. Last but not least, Chrono, dude, I was beginning to wonder. I was relieved to see you had answered my call and that you think I’m improving. Thanks everyone.