Disclaimers: I own nothing apart from my spelling mistakes. If you really feel like suing me, all you'll get out of it is a fat cat and a five-year- old brother who's been singing 'Who Let the Dogs Out' –which I do not own either- for the last half hour. You still interested in suing? Please do... ;

Title: St-Matthews High

Author: Black Mirror

Date: 6th of December 2003

Pairings: Taito! This means there will be shounen ai... maybe even YAOI! Be afraid... be very afraid.

Summary: Yamato's POV; after living through the harsh break up of his parents, Yamato finds himself enlisted in a new school in the very middle of school year. There, he meets Tai, a jolly, happy-going, bushy-haired boy of his year and slowly gets to now him. But is there really more to it? More than meets the eye?

Type: Drama and Romance, a little angst too.

Rating: PG-13 (for language use)

Status: Work in progress

Warnings: Rape, Taito/Yamachi, AU (2nde season doesn't exist neither does the digital world), mention of suicide attempt(s), dark, black, angst, violence, Shounen ai perhaps even Yaoi.

St-Matthews High

Chapter I

First week in a new school can mean nothing but hell in one's life. New 'knowledge freaks' –yes! That would be the teachers; new 'wisdom establishment' –yes! That would be the school; and new 'idiotic learning slaves' –yes! That would be the students. All in all, changing schools is a torture and a pain in the ass no one should have to go through. People just keep looking at you as you go down the corridors as if they all knew that you were the new guy in town. Of course, the word circulates and by the end of the day, there isn't a single person in the entire educational institution that doesn't know your name, even though you've never met a single one of them. It's either they flee you like your carrying the plague around with you or they stick on to you as would moths on a very bright light. In my case, it would be more like 'Flee the Black Death' for my glares can prove to be somewhat bothersome for a few. They work like a charm!

The evening had finally passed and I couldn't be more anxious to see this day come to an end. Those goddamn whispers seemed to be following me everywhere I went, haunting my steps.

"See Jena... See! That's the new guy."

"Wow, do you think it's dyed?"

"Gimme a break!"

"You just gotta love a natural blond, huh?"

The little, subtle laughs –giggles would suit them better- had been a constant presence all morning, a nonstop background that was both irritating and nerve-racking. Life can be such an uncool thing to have to go through. As we say: the human being is born in pain, grows up in risk and danger and dies in a cold bed surrounded by sickness and grieving and most of all loneliness. It's not being negative, it's being realistic. Thank God it was lunch hour, or else I think I'd a killed somebody for sure –or at least maimed him real good.

I overlooked my schedule; I had math as a next period. Out of all the damn classes I could have had, it just had to be math. Stimulation of the brain, my eye! Nothing but gibberish to me! At least most of the students had caught up with my little 'I'm a freakin' antisocial' act and avoided me. But, as I said, that was only with some.

Not knowing how the cafeteria food was, I'd taken care of packing myself a small lunch before the school bus picked me up –if there's one thing I surely can do, and I am not bragging, it's cook. The food at my old school had been poison filled. Well, that was the rumor, but, rumors being what they are, everybody follows them even though they all know none of them are true and though I am ashamed to admit this, I never ate a single lunch from the cafeteria at that school.

Alright, I have something else I have to admit. Usually when you change schools it's because you moved, right? Well, I never moved and I wasn't kicked out of my old school either. To tell the truth, my old school wasn't really a normal school. It was more like an institution for troubled children. When my parents broke up and got separated, my brother and I were forced to part ways. I then closed all doors which connected me to the world around me. I'd stopped eating and dropped out of school. Of course, my dad, who'd gained custody of me, was thrown aback by my reaction and alerted a psychologist who in turned advised to place me in an institution. Now you understand why I never ate the food from there. It wasn't the kind of place you have to live in, just learn in. I'd go home every night and wait for the next day to come and wait for my dad to drop me off again. It was just like a regular school except for the strangely behaving students, the few guards and the overabundance of psychologists.

Finally, after almost nine years, I'm out and kicking. I am allowed to go see my little brother as often as I want, though he lives at the other end of a not so nearby city. Still, it helps me cool down when I get to high on tension. I haven't been out that long anyways.

All in all, this is how I ended up being, after nine years of treatment, a sixteen year old entering a new and normal school. None of the students had been told about my earlier days, I figured out that much and was kind of relieved. But that didn't change anything. After nine years of self-exclusion, you just can't come back and scream 'Hey! I'm the new class clown'.

I sat down on the grass under a huge tree –a maple I think- who, I guess, had to be at least seventy years old. It's funny to think that they must have built the school and left this tree standing for it seemed much older than the establishment it stood by.

At my left, a few students were playing soccer on the field. I never understood the team spirit neither did I understand sports. Running after a ball just made me think we all looked like dogs out for a run and obeying their ever-so-loving masters. You have to become dependent on other people, guessing who's beside you and if he'll catch your pass, and, all through my fabulous last nine years of life, I've learned the opposite. Never depend on anyone.

I opened my lunch-bag staring at its content without interest. My peanut- butter and jelly sandwich seemed to have been passed through a meat-grinder and my apple to have probably wrestled against Sid Vicious –the wrestler, not the punk-addicted bass player. Finally, after much reflection –or not, I simply settled for drinking my bottled water and made myself promise never to use my lunch-bag as a projectile for catapults –not that I had but just grasp the metaphor and you'll be fine.

Bored out of my skin and not feeling very charismatic at the moment –did I ever?- I started to look around, let my eyes feast upon the marvelous view of about twenty boys playing soccer. Oh yeah! Apart from being a part-time anorexic with an unfriendly aura, I am also gay and almost proud. Just thought you should be warned. So, as said earlier, I allowed my eyes to undress a few of the much tanned bodies and slightly muscled legs. It wasn't too hard because most of them didn't have their shirts on. Yeah! That's the spirit! Off with those shirts. Hey! I'm lighting up. See what a nice view can do to a person.

There was one of the players that caught my attention. I just had to laugh or at least snort. It sincerely seemed like he'd bought his hairdo at a 'used by Diana Ross and the Supremes' auction. I just don't get why people wear bushes over their heads. Life has many mysteries but that and the creation of reform schools have got to be the most incomprehensible mysteries amongst all. This guy had a great body –or so it seemed from a few feet away, more like twenty feet away- and the Bigfoot-furred turban completely ruined its affect. Well, so much for him.

Suddenly my vision was blocked. Just like when rainy clouds cover the shiny sun, my momentarily happy mood was sent down the drain by this irritating shadow, form, presence. Preparing my glare, I slowly lifted my head, ready to prance on whoever had had the courage to confront my lone self. My glare took in dirty running shoes, a pair of very feminine but strong legs, jean shorts, a sporty tee-shirt and a shoulder-length mane of fiery red hair. She extended her arm towards me, presenting me with a slightly sweaty hand. I lightly seized it with the tip of my fingers, obviously demonstrating my disdain, and tried to smile. She seemed nice enough after all, especially when compared to all the other squeaky high-pitched soprano girls I'd come across today. Really she did. Maybe I'd give her a chance.

"Hi!" she started with a gleeful smile playing on her lips. "My name's Sora. We're in the same English class."

"Yamato Ishida" I responded without much emotion evident in my voice.

She let my hand drop and spoke a little more, her expression as joyful as ever.

"I saw you watching the soccer game and wanted to know if you felt like joining in?"

I was shocked. Usually after the name exchange the next sentence to be spoken was 'you're the new guy, right?' Really, it wasn't that often that it wasn't.

"I'm not really good at ball games."

"Oh!" she said knowingly. "Well, we all passed through that stage and we could teach you some tricks. I'm sure no one would mind and we have good players as well as bad players out there. It's just for fun, you know."

I hate it when people don't accept a refusal.

"Nah! Listen I'm not that good with sports. It's just not my area."

I guess she got the picture because she let it the subject drop. I wondered what she would bring up next.

"Anyhow, that's your thing man."

Short awkward pause-

"See that guy running with the bushy brown hairdo?" she continued and noticed she was pointing that guy I'd been inspecting earlier. I nod. "That's Tai. If ever you're lost or you feel like going out and meet people, just ask him or me and we'll be glad to include you, alright?"

Nice offer but no... I nod.

"Well, see you 'round."

I grunt in response and she left. Short and sweet; I like that in a conversation. It lasted about thirty seconds and she said everything she had to say without any gigantically uncomfortable moments. I guess I could get to appreciate her. Now repeat after me: Not like, a-ppre-ci-a-te.

I continued to slowly sip my water, watching the soccer game. Diana Ross –Tai was it?- was pretty good. Well, if you judge by the fact that he made a lot of passes and a hell of a lot more of scores –and I do think that that's how players are judged- than I do believe he could be considered as being good and you don't have to be a soccer addicted freak to know that, right?

The bell rang out; the lunch hour was over. At least I'd been able to enjoy to clear sky and the fresh breeze before returning to captivity. I could choose to skip the afternoon, but that would be taking the easy way out. Gotta face the challenges if you ever want to get something out of life. As hellish as it may sound, you've got to face the day.

-end of chapter 1

Author's note: Well, I really do hope you've appreciated this first 'intro' chapter. This is my first Digimon fic so critics please go easy on me.

Anyhow, just tell me what you think. If I went overboard a little or a lot or not at all (please! ;... ) and if I should continue. Oh, and if I do -continue that is- I promise that the chapter will be longer. Please keep in mind that this is just an intro.

I hope to hear from you.

Black Mirror :