So, here's my story for Cityescape4 which I was supposed to post months ago, but I didn't until now. I have no excuse other than RL getting in the way (i.e. work, preparing for my upcoming graduation from university, and studying for the LSAT). I'm sure anyone reading this understands how that goes down.

Anyways, the request involved Yamato and Taichi drinking at an after-party for one of Yamato's concerts, with Yamato's band being involved as well. I couldn't find any names for the band members of Knife of Day, so instead I made a reference to another story and used their names for the band mates (here's my shout out to Llyn!), and I bet a few of you will recognize it once you see it. If you don't recognize it, the story is called Cool, Calm, and Collected. Check it out, and check out any other stories that Llyn has. They have definitely become a favorite of mine.

Here we go, and remember to keep each other in your hearts. Love wins.

Quote of the Day:

"I would like to propose a toast to the happy couple, who has finally figured out what we have all known for a very long time now: You two are destined to be together."

Oliver Queen, Smallville

The first thing that came to Yamato's mind as he searched for someone in the crowded room was a story that his father had told him and his brother Takeru once of a happier moment, in another time and place. He wasn't sure why he still remembered the story as vividly as he did, but even now with a mind covered in a small haze from perhaps one beer just too many and three beers not enough, Yamato was still able to recall every detail of Hiroaki's tale. Whether it was the good or the bad, a hopeful beginning with an ending no one had foreseen or ever wanted, the story remained as clear to him as a precious memory he had never seen but often imagined, a dream within a dream within a memory within a dream.

Apparently, it all started with a smile.

"Yamato," his bandmate Nari interrupted his thoughts, a nudge, a swish, and an extended finger pointing across the room being all that he needed to notice that his little brother had just walked through the front door of whoever's house they were currently occupying.

He hadn't known much about this after party other than the fact that it was taking place in the house of a fan whose parents spent more time off on business trips rather than staying at home. It was probably this reason more than any that alieved Yamato of any lingering guilt he would normally feel when leaving a home as trashed as he intended to later that night. If he was to believe Soshi's jealous mutterings, this girl was less a fan of the band and instead more a fan of Yamato himself. It made a bit of sense considering that the girl had already tried to ambush him once or twice that night, despite the unrequited desire.

"If you don't want to, Ishida" Soshi had complained not even twenty minutes ago, "at least point her in my direction."

The only thing Yamato had pointed in any direction was Soshi towards the stoner crowd that was hanging out on the back porch. If it didn't fill Soshi up with a happy sort of drowsiness, then at least it would take his bandmate's mind off the girl. If that wasn't enough, Yamato found himself not really caring all that much. Instead, he stumbled his way up from the couch that Knife of Day had claimed for themselves as the conquering heroes of this post-concert bash, and he made his way towards his little brother who was still standing near the entrance, apparently uncertain of where to go from there. Yamato was half-sure, half-drunk, and heading in Takeru's direction, knowing even in his haze the something he was searching for.

It started with a smile.

"You're late," Yamato greeted his brother.

"You're drunk," Takeru greeted back.

Taking his brother's words into account, Yamato swirled the bottle of Chinese beer that he had been working his way through, and when he looked down at it he couldn't help but frown when he noticed that it was half empty. He took another drink to forget his sorrow, before then noticing that his bottle was only a quarter-full. It was almost a Greek tragedy.

"Seems like a fun party," Takeru deadpanned.

"There's a lot of alcohol," Yamato agreed.

For what it was worth, Takeru frowned at his older brother's statement. "You know, mom can always tell whenever you have a hangover, right?"

Smiling for a second, Yamato mussed his little brother's hair as he then made his way out into the night through the front door that Takeru in his uncertainty had still yet to close. Although he wasn't sure if he was going to have a hangover or not, Yamato found himself not really concerned about whatever condition that Takaishi Natsuko found him in come what was supposed to be their bi-weekly breakfast. He could honestly imagine the lecture right now. First she would question him about Hiroaki, about where his father was during all of this, or how hands on his father's parenting style was that it would allow for him to get into such a state in the first place. Then, his mother would wonder out loud mostly to herself about whether or not it was time for him to actually move back in with her, even if at the end of the day such considerations turned out to be mostly bluster and smoke.

Walking through the crowd of gathered people that were spending their night hanging out and drinking on a stranger's front lawn, Yamato found himself being unsure about whether or not some of these people even knew whose honor this party was being thrown in. When some saw him, their eyes went wide and their gawking wouldn't leave him as long as they were in the same room together. Others though, he knew that they found him to be pretty, girl and boy alike, but with them it was obvious that they had no clue who he or his band were, having gathered less for their passion of music, and instead more for the virtues of drinking and hedonism and free love. He knew that for the countless masses such a thing constituted debauchery with a dash of sin, like the Christmas of the old Greeks, or the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah who partied so hard they reckoned the wrath of God himself. For many, this was going to be a night to remember. For him though? It was just another Saturday night.

Turning around to take one last look behind him, Yamato was unsurprised to find that Takeru was still watching him, the boy's gaze smoldering, and unmoved. His little brother knew where he was headed, knew who he was looking for, and there was more than a hint of disapproval in the way that Teeks was eyeing him. Yamato gave his brother a two-fingered salute before facing forward again and downing the rest of his Chinese beer. His brother wasn't a bad person, but instead was just having trouble…coming to terms. Yamato didn't hold it against him. The same so often rang true for himself as well.

As he continued to search in the darkness for someone, Yamato walked half-staggering and half-stumbling, but still filled with all the confidence in the world that someone like him was supposed to have. More than once in his life had he been told that he was either beautiful or handsome, touched by the gods of music and friendship, and tits and wine, and filled with the kind of bravery one came to have when faced with the amount of certain death that had become just oh so familiar to anyone who found themselves being called Chosen. He wasn't quite sure if he exactly agreed with all of that, but Yamato figured that he would take everyone else's word on it. As he searched though, it didn't take long for Yamato to see that a familiar red truck was parked just down the street from the party. When he found it, when he found them, he almost felt like the Caesar who had gazed upon the Rubicon, uncertain about the future or their destiny, but their blood flowing with glory and passion and love, history acting as the wind behind his back.

He almost wanted to either jog or even run his way to the beat up red truck that waited for him in the distance, but Yamato kept his cool and instead simply walked his way there, the young man wanting to keep himself from looking too eager, Yamato at the same time unsure if his drunk ass could honestly even move that quickly at the moment. When he actually reached the pick-up, what Yamato found was a pair of brown eyes waiting for him, and a hand that was extended down towards him to help him climb into the back of the truck. Before accepting the hand however, Yamato took a moment to admire the worn out but trusty old vehicle. Ol' Red didn't have much left in her, but maybe she could give them just a few more memorable nights.

"You're not going to be drinking and driving, are you?" Yamato asked, as he went up easier than either of them had expected when Taichi pulled him up into the back of his pick-up.

"Takeru is driving us back," Taichi replied before the two of them tripped and landed with a hard thud into the bed of the truck, both of them being a bit more inebriated than they thought, "Oh, and I guess you're going to be spending the night," he added, almost as an afterthought.

Rubbing his ass from the fall and clearing away some errant empty beer cans, Yamato wondered out loud about Takeru. "How's he going to get back home?"

Taichi shrugged, apparently unhurt from the fall. "He's staying the night too."

"And Susumu's okay with that?"


Yamato gave a small nod as they both sat up, and decided it would be best to not say anything about the potential problems that would come from his little brother crashing at the Yagami household. The Yagamis were fond of him and his brother, sure, but Susumu was still a father and Takeru was still Hikari's boyfriend. For a moment he wondered if Taichi had let his parents know that Takeru was going to be spending the night, or if he was just going to roll with the punches of life, and the thought that it was better to ask for forgiveness than it was to ask for permission. He tried to take another swish of his Chinese beer, but frowned when he realized he had already drunk it all.

"I had fun at your concert," Taichi said more to the nighttime air than he did to Yamato, Taichi closing his eyes for a second, before opening them once again after a content sigh.

"Which was your favorite part?" Yamato asked as he looked at Taichi out of the corner of his eye, more curious now than anything.

For a moment of time, everything was quiet. It wasn't the usual kind of quiet though. It wasn't the quiet of an evening of light rain or an afternoon spent trying to listen for the stream or a brook. Music was blaring, people were singing, and happy screams filled the night. Still, neither of them heard anything but the other.

"I don't remember," Taichi answered meekly, realizing that perhaps he should have waited until after the concert to start drinking.

Yamato laughed at that one. "Who needs an after party, when you can drink in the comfort of your own shitty car, eh?"

Taichi frowned at first, but then nodded, accepting the shittiness of his truck, but all the same believing that it oddly enough added to the charm of it. He looked around the bed of his truck at all the empty beer cans that surrounded them, before he picked one up and gave a mocking toast. "To my shitty car."

Shrugging, Yamato raised up his own empty bottle as well. "To your shitty car."

After the two of them laughed some more, Yamato threw his empty bottle of Chinese beer as hard as he could. When it hit the asphalt of the street, the glass shattered into a million tiny shards, the light of a nearby streetlamp making them shine for a moment with a dazzling gleam, like a swarm of fireflies on a dark and empty night. He couldn't help but feel strange however as he stared on at the pile of glass now lying in the street. The morning was coming soon, the dawn both an eternity and an instant away, but tonight was a world of its own.

"Someone might have trouble with that later," Taichi thought out loud as he rubbed the back of his head, not knowing whether or not to reprimand Yamato.

Yamato was silent, but nodded all the same. The concert had only been a few hours ago, but since then he had already aged a lifetime or two. Saturday night existed in another time and place, like the realm called Wonderland or the Digital World that had first brought the Chosen together. On nights like this he almost felt like Alice, tumbling down and down the rabbit hole, unsure of where it was going to lead to at the bottom. He thought of the magic of Saturday night, and of the mysticism of drunken confessions and cigarettes with dying embers. There was something strange and intangible about it, something terrifying, yet beautiful.


"I want to meet your band," Taichi broke both the silence and the musings on the nature of Saturday.

Yamato yawned, the teenager tired even though he knew that his night was just beginning. "You have met my band."

There was a pregnant pause that hung in the air. With each moment it became more pronounced, and the two teenage boys met eyes then, each of them knowing that something was about to change between them. What Yamato saw in Taichi's eyes was hesitance, before something shined in them that was just as bright as the broken glass in the night had been. What Taichi saw in Yamato's, on the other hand, was something that he didn't have a word for.

There was one more second of uncertainty, before Taichi dived in with drunken courage, and all the recklessness of youth. "I meant that I want to really meet them."

Drunk or not, it was as clear a request as he would get. Yamato contemplated for a moment, before he looked away from Taichi. His eyes found the party down the street where his brother and his band were waiting for him, and although it wasn't that far away, he felt like a man embarking on a long journey. It wasn't as if Takeru didn't know, but announcing it for the whole world to hear was a much different thing than his little brother accidently coming across revealing text messages on an equally drunk and mystical night.

His band was an entirely different matter altogether. It was one thing to hide a clue or two in his songs that only Taichi would ever truly understand. It was one thing to dedicate a song to a 'special someone', with his bandmates thinking that he was only playing it up for the crowd. It was another to step in front of his brothers in music, and show them the truth. It's not that Yamato hadn't contemplated it before, but as he sat there by Taichi's side he wondered if now the right time? They were just starting to get attention. Was the risk of breaking up the band worth it?

Digging through his pocket for his nearly empty pack of cigarettes, Yamato hoped that their earlier fall had spared what was left of them. Yamato cursed when he opened up his pack and saw that one of the three remaining cigarettes was broken, but there were still two that although they were a little banged up still remained intact. The first he popped into his mouth. The second he handed over to Taichi, which Taichi accepted after a moment's hesitation, despite the fact that he had never really been a fan of cigarettes.

He remembered that in Hiroaki's tale, that was how he met a girl named Natsuko. His mother had never told him the story, Yamato even figured that she had told Takeru a different one about how she had met their father, but Hiroaki was a man who was nothing if not honest. The way his father spoke of Natsuko was almost wistful, his mother being described as a paradox of wild elegance, beautiful, with golden brown hair and eyes that were as bright as blue stars. Although Yamato couldn't see it, his father had assured him that once upon a time there was nothing more alluring than his mother's smile, or more enchanting than her laughter in the sun.

Apparently, she had a fiancée the first time they met. It was at a jazz club, dingy and dirty and filled with smoke, but with the somewhat seedy nature of the music by the beach adding to the appeal of it. There was something magnetic about the place. There was something magnetic about her. She was dating an American soldier stationed in Japan who found himself not only bewitched by the voice of Frank Sinatra or the struggle and tragic beauty of the blues, but also by the girl whose smile reminded him of Santa Barbara; the girl who almost made him forget California.

The only thing Hiroaki had remembered about why he had gone to the jazz club in the first place was because it had something to do with trying to find somewhere to wind down after work where he didn't have to worry about running into his coworkers. Even as full of alcohol as he was, Yamato could still recall with perfect clarity the next part of the story. Hiroaki was watching the ocean, leaning against a metal railing with nothing to keep him company other than the sound of the waves by the sea and the soulful pain filled words of Ella Fitzgerald. Natsuko stormed out of the club, with the soldier following at her heels. They were yelling about California, about a home he was returning to soon and a home that Natsuko could never see as being hers. The soldier had left soon afterwards, taking with him a returned engagement ring. Natsuko on the other hand had stayed behind, and soon enough had found herself standing at a metal railing, watching both the ocean and the setting sun.

She was crying, and the old man had offered her a cigarette. Their fingers touched, and she smiled at him. Hiroaki smiled back. It was the first of many nights that the two of them spent smoking together, while talking about their lives with one another. Their first meeting had been one of melancholy and an unexpected fondness, while the ones that followed were meetings of passion and familiar affection. Despite how it had ended, Yamato couldn't help but think that there was still something romantic about cigarettes.

He lit his own with a half broken lighter he had swiped from Soshi, and took a long thoughtful drag. To Taichi, he probably looked like he was brooding. Although he didn't like to admit it, Yamato supposed that there was some truth to that. He had always had an air of melancholy about him. He had always had a soul that was tinged with sadness.

Taichi threw an empty beer can at his head, but missed. Yamato quirked an eyebrow when he looked over at the other teenager, and watched as Taichi motioned for him to hand over Soshi's lighter. Instead, Yamato leaned into Taichi and waited. Sure enough, Taichi took the hint and lit his own cigarette with the flame from Yamato's. For a moment of time, they were alone in the universe.

"How was Takeru today?" Yamato asked as he watched Taichi pull away and rest against the back of his truck.

Frowning at the change in topic, Taichi looked away from Yamato and inhaled some smoke from his cancer stick. As always, to him it tasted bitter. "Takeru was distant. He's been really distant lately."

Nodding, Yamato took a longer drag than before. "He's been the same with me."

"He knows," Taichi said, not needing to ask the question.

"He knows," Yamato confirmed.

As the two of them sat together, smoking in the back of a truck filled with empty beer cans, Yamato couldn't help but wonder how the two of them appeared to any possible onlookers at the moment. To adults, did they look like degenerate teenagers that embodied the modern day fear of young rebellion? To their parents, did they look like two kids who were going down the wrong path in life? Did they still look like the heroes who had saved the digital world time and time again? Did they look like best friends, or rivals, or did they look like something more? As he glanced over at Taichi, Yamato felt as if the only question that mattered was how did Taichi look at him?

"Did you tell him?"

"He found out."

Their cheeks were rosy, their bellies full of beer, and neither of them were completely confident in the strength that remained in their legs. Still, there was no clearer moment than this one. Once more the two of them met eyes, with the smoke from their cigarettes dancing between them like will-o-wisps, reaching for something mystical and strange and unknown, but at the end of the day touching only the mundane.

"Is that why you won't tell your band?" Taichi asked, unwavering.

This time it was Yamato who looked away.

Takeru was his brother, but even so ever since the kid had found out, there were moments where Yamato felt as if the two of them were now strangers. He was ashamed to admit that he couldn't help but wonder what his band would think of them if and when they found out as well. Would the band break up, or would they simply kick him out? Would they stay together due to the allure of fame and success, with Taichi being the secret that fostered resentment between them? Or would they surprise him, and stand by his side, steadfast in their friendship. There was an uncertain destiny that awaited him.

As the two of them sat together, in their only little universe called Saturday night, Yamato couldn't help but think about all the other times they had spent in this strange weekend world. Saturday was a night of existential magic, made up of memories of the past and wishes for the future, defining the rest of their lives with pivotal moments of unending fondness and the musings of a world called California. It was a Saturday the night that Taichi had come out to him. It was a Saturday the night of their first kiss, and first night of confusion and dread and infinite passion. It was a Saturday the night where they decided they couldn't continue on the path they had already started. It was a Saturday the night they decided that was bullshit. What each of them wished and wanted for the future had shattered that night, just like that bottle of Chinese beer. Yamato found himself thinking on nights like this that although his perception of the future had been broken, that it was now a mosaic made with shards of color he had never even imagined could exist, shining with intangible beauty. There was an uncertain destiny that awaited him. The only thing he knew for sure however, was that it was a destiny he wanted to share with Taichi.

"Fuck it," Yamato said as he shook his head, before glancing over at the teenage boy beside him.

"What?" Taichi asked, ignorant of Yamato's realization.

Standing up, as best he could anyways all things considered, Yamato took one last drag from his cigarette, before flicking what was left of it into a random direction in the night. His eyes never left Taichi, who remained confused as Yamato stared down at him. Laughing, Yamato reached down to help Taichi up, just as the other teenager had done with him earlier.

"You're meeting my band," Yamato answered simply, not really wishing to get all that sentimental about it, "for real though."

"Not as Yagami?" Taichi asked before accepting the invitation, remembering how Yamato had introduced him the first time around when he had met Knife of Day.

"As my Yagami," Yamato answered back, pulling a grinning Taichi back up to his feet.

It was when they started walking back to the party that the two of them realized that the beer had made a bigger impact on them than either had initially thought. Yamato remembered now that he had stumbled his way to Taichi's familiar red truck, and Taichi only now just realized that there was a reason why he had given his keys to Takeru for the kid to drive everyone back home, even though it was actually against the law.

It took them five minutes just to climb out of the back of the truck, which would have been embarrassing had there been anyone around to see them. Yamato was staggering just as slowly as he had been earlier, and Taichi leaned on him with most of his weight, as if only one of them was actually drunk. Yamato tried to buck Taichi off of him for a moment so that the two of them could walk on equal ground, but Taichi's only response was to lean on him even harder. They were walking as slowly as one could expect, their shirts were soaked with beer, smoke lingered on their breath from cigarettes, and somehow Yamato and Taichi found themselves yet again sharing another adventure in the dark uncertainty that was youth. It was a familiar sight filled with unfamiliar emotions. It was Saturday night once again.

"You're touching my chest," Yamato observed when he noticed that Taichi's hands were beginning to roam.

"I want to touch more than that," Taichi whispered back.

Yamato was glad that the darkness of the night was now hiding his beet-red face, and continued on without a word as slowly as they could back to the party. When they found his band on the couch where Yamato had left Nari, he was unsurprised to find that they were arguing about something. Or, perhaps it was better to say that he was unsurprised to find Soshi and Yutaka arguing, considering the fact that Nari remained as silent as ever.

Soshi and Yutaka had already been best friends when the band was started, and Nari was a lone wolf if Yamato had ever known one. He sometimes liked to consider himself one as well, but the truth of the matter was that he had his band and he had the Chosen, and the Crest of Friendship that was his had shined brighter than anything Yamato had ever seen before when as a boy he first realized that he and Takeru were not alone in the world.

Yutaka was shirtless, having lost half his clothing some time during the night, and Soshi continued to argue with him with his face that more often than not seemed to rest on an eternal dopey confusion. Nari was smoking, as he usually was when not playing music, apparently not caring that they were indoors at the moment. He was the first to notice their arrival.

"I didn't know your friend was here," Nari acknowledged Taichi, that being the sum of his greeting, "Yagami, right?"

"We did need an impartial judge," Yutaka leaned forward before either Yamato or Taichi could respond, pointing at his new hair as he continued, "the frosted tips? Hot or not?"

"Very hot," Taichi said almost immediately, his eyes more than lecherous as he admired the gorgeous shirtless sight that was the unofficial rebel of Knife of Day.

Yamato figured that now was a good a time as any to drop Taichi onto the free spot on the couch. "You're drooling, Taichi."

"Hot," Taichi reiterated with defensive hands in the air, before the hands soon dropped to his sides, the gesture being replaced with both a smile, and a wink, "but not as hot as you."

To their credit, it took the band a long moment before they responded. Yutaka squinted at the two of them, feeling justified in the fact that his new hairstyle was definitely sexy, but at the same time confused about what he just witnessed. Soshi scratched the back of his head since he wasn't really sure what was going on, which honestly wasn't that unusual for him. Yamato couldn't help but notice Nari however. For a moment he thought he saw his other bandmate smirk, before ultimately frowning. There was a cool gaze that was shared between them. There was a silent message, from one lonely heart to another.

"Everything cool, Yamato?" Yutaka asked, being the first to tread this new and unknown water.

Sitting down beside Taichi, Yamato leaned forward and gave a simple nod. No matter what happened, he had to remain cool, calm, and collected. "Everything's cool."

"Are you?" Soshi trailed off, not knowing whether or not it was appropriate to ask the full question.

"I am," Yamato confirmed, knowing just what exactly was too awkward for Soshi to ask directly, "and this is my boyfriend."

He watched as Soshi and Yutaka looked at each other, and Yamato prepared himself for the worst, not knowing how the two of them would ultimately react. If he knew them like he thought he did, one would take the lead and the other would soon follow it. He prepared for the worst, but when he thought of the way his crest had glowed that first day when he finally realized that he didn't have to be alone, he had to believe that his bandmates were good people. It was Nari however that truly unsettled him. Nari was silent, and Nari did not look towards Soshi and Yutaka. Instead, Nari continued to stare into his soul, having the same kind of look in his eyes that he couldn't help but notice in Takeru's these days.

"You know what this means right?" Soshi broke the silence after a minute or so, "More chicks for the rest of us! Now we don't have to worry about Yamato being our wingman."

"Too dangerous," Yutaka nodded in agreement.

"They kept falling in love with him," Soshi groaned for the many, many, girls who had ignored him in favor of their band's bassist.

"We should probably talk to our manager about marketing to the gay community." Yutaka wondered out loud with a contemplative finger to his chin, "We could make a fortune!"

Considering all the backlash he had expected, Yamato was unprepared for this turn of events. "Is this the booze talking? You guys are acting like this isn't a big deal."

Soshi grinned, waving it off. "That's because it's no-"

"It is a big deal," Nari interrupted Soshi, the usually aloof bandmate now staring into the deepest part of Yamato's being.

All the smiles between the bandmates died in that moment. Nari had never been much of a talker and was nowhere near as jovial as Soshi or Yutaka were, and for the most part had been content to merely play his part in the band and brood in the corner during the breaks they took during practice. Nari was silent, staring down Yamato and Taichi, a fire in his eyes burning brighter than the dawn of a California sunrise. He wasn't smoking anymore, and instead crushed his still lit cigarette in the palm of his hand.

Throwing what was left of his crushed cancer stick to the ground, Nari's gaze never left Yamato's. "We're supposed to be impressed just because you fuck guys?"

Yamato's fist clenched as he prepared for a fight, but Nari only smirked as he leaned back, continuing on. "Well, I fuck guys too. Where's my medal?"

Squinting his eyes, Taichi like everyone else present couldn't help but wonder if he had misheard what Nari had actually said. "You fuck guys too?"

Nari shrugged. "I fuck guys too."

"Does everyone here fuck guys?" Soshi asked.

"I fucked a guy in a dream once," Yutaka admitted, before he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and continued on, "It was Yamato."

As Yamato decided to ignore that last bit, he leaned back against the couch, more than content with the fact that his bandmates had exceeded everything he had expected of them. He listened to them as they joked and laughed, with each other and with Taichi and himself, and it was something that continued into the evening until one by one the strangers that were the denizens of Saturday night drifted back to their normal lives. He didn't know when it happened, but soon enough Yamato found himself slumped into the backseat of a familiar red truck, with a drooling Taichi propped up against him. Takeru drove them back to the Yagami's apartment, without saying a word to either of them, but even so Yamato knew that everything would be okay between them. His brother may have been struggling with the truth, but if there was anything that he had learned from his bandmates that night, it was the fact that all people are better than you think they are, and there was no one that Yamato thought more highly of than his little brother.

In Hiroaki's story it started with a smile, and Yamato couldn't help but smile right now in the darkness, where no one else could see. He was drifting off to sleep sitting where he was, but Taichi was already there, leaning against him. It was a mundane moment, filled with all the magic in the world. It was two boys, two young men, with a shared destiny defined by an infinite tenderness. It was an adventure filled with emotions that were both as familiar and as strange as the Brave New World. The dawn approached and the dusk was fleeting, and dreams of California filled their heads. The future was uncertain, but it was their future to make together.

It was just another Saturday night.

That was something that was enjoyable to write, and I hope that it was enjoyable to read as well. It took me a while, but I feel as if it was a sufficient story. For those of you reading on the TaichixYamato blog, I hope you enjoyed the story. For those on Ao3, I hope it was okay enough to warrant a kudos. For you on FFnet, I hope you review if you thought that story was fine. Thank you.

Goodnight, and good luck.