Disclaimer: o.o Anyone else ever felt the burning desire to drink pumpkin juice?
Warnings: Expect the unexpected! –Breaks out in Card Captor Sakuratheme song-
... At least I hope this fic isn't too utterly cliché so that it keeps readers guessing.
Oh, and possible OOC-ness... As always.

Note(s): Le sigh... the site is being mean and won't let me format the story the way I want to ;-;
Date: 5.26.06

Let Me
The First Step In A Thousand Miles

We were strangers
Starting out on a journey
Never dreaming what we'd have to go through
Now here we are
And I'm suddenly standing
At the beginning with you
- "At the Beginning"

- - - - -

... We're not the same.

... ... ... This isn't an excuse.

... ... ... ... ... We live completely different lives.

Be cruel to be kind… I just wanted to keep you safe.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... I'm fading away.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... When I'm out of reach, what will you do?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... You can't chase me forever.

But I never wanted you to give up on me. Please don't. Please stay.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Don't give it to me.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...I'll break it you know; I can't handle fragile things.

... ... ... ... ... ...Well that's too bad… because I don't want it.

I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Please… forgive me.

Hey…

Hey…

I'm lost...

What should I do now?

- - - - -

Sometimes Iori wasn't sure exactly why he got up for work everyday. He hated the traffic he ran into. He hated the impossibly high office building he worked in. And he especially hated the lady on the first floor that always called him "an adorable little piece of applesauce."

The dental plan sucked too.

He would much rather be in a dojo teaching kendo to his students. Then again, he would also rather teach while practicing on the lady from the first floor…

Oooh the temptation.

Nonetheless, he traveled up the elevator to the third floor where a pile of paperwork awaited him on his pristine desk. Another day, another battle against infamous paperwork.

Iori swore it tried to suffocate him last time…

Stepping out of the elevator and walking the short length of a modestly decorated hall, Iori glanced at the gold covered nameplate displaying "Hida Iori," located so professionally at his oak wood desk. The brunette sat in his seat preparing for the day. He booted up his computer, rearranged this and that on his desk, and looked out the window situated so conveniently by his reception desk.

Truth be told, the raspy and groggy voice that came through the brunette's intercom forced a small jump of surprise from him.

"Iooorrriii… Coffee… Nooow…"

Immediately, Iori redirected his focus from his computer to the intercom placed on his table, pressing a button to reply, "Takeru?" Pausing for a response that would not come, Iori expelled a sigh. "You pulled another all-nighter didn't you?"

"… Shut… up."

Rubbing a temple with his free hand, Iori questioned ritually. "What time did your batteries run out?"

"Four… in the morning."

Grand. His boss had a total of three hours of sleep. "You know, any amount of respect for you I had is now gone… You could at least be on Kingdom Heart 2 rather than still be playing Chain of Memories."

"Boss fights are bitches…"

"So you said two months ago."

"Coooffeee… Now!"

"Anything else I can get for you as well?"

"… New batteries."

Iori nearly smirked as he sat back in his chair. "Sorry. It's not in my job description to buy you new batteries when your Gameboy runs out because you still act like a teenager."

"… The store is just down the street!"

"Not in my job description."

"… I hate you."

"Coffee will be up in a minute."

"Thank you…" There was some shuffling in the background as Takeru's muffled voice continued, "Lousy secretary… won't even get me new batteries… See if I ever-"

"Takeru. You forgot to turn off the intercom."

"… Oh, really?"

"We're still talking aren't we?"

"Iori… you know you're my best friend right?"

A sigh. "Two sugars and a cream?"

"Aaand-"

"I'm still not buying you batteries."

". . . Damn."

- - - - -

Fifteen minutes later, Takaishi Takeru was still battery-less, but he was enjoying the warm, comforting, and overall pleasant company of a cup of coffee.

Oh, and Iori was there too.

"No clients today, right Iori?"

"None."

Takeru prided himself on the fact that at the young age of twenty-four he was already an accomplished psychiatrist. Having been shipped off to college in his teenage years, he could be regarded as a "genius." Though, the only thing that separated him from other people was his willingness to work harder.

A hell of a lot harder.

In other words… he had been an anti-social-loner-geek during school.

Then again, Takeru's mother was not oblivious to her son's determination merelybeing sublimation for his anger and sorrow. It was hard to watch the one thing you cared for most shattered into pieces… His family-

But that wasn't important. Not right now anyway.

"Speaking of clients however, a new patient just applied yesterday. I still have to check his credit, but if he pulls through then his sessions will begin next week."

"Really?" Sitting up at his desk somewhat, sapphire eyes gazed at his secretary with a raised brow, "What's his name?"

Taking a sip of his tea before setting it gently on the blonde's work desk, Iori answered easily, "Hold on. I'll get his papers…"

Watching as his secretary turned with a sharp pivot and exited his office, Takeru could not help but feel something akin to excitement. He loved his work; helping people was what always what he strived to do… A new client merely meant someone new to take under his wing.

Verdant eyes stared down at the blonde psychiatrist as Iori returned to the room carrying a manila folder and a small box. After placing the items onto Takeru's desk the brunette finally answered the other's question. "His name is Motomiya Daisuke. His family signed him up out of concern."

"Is there some specific problem he's having?"

"His family believes that Motomiya-san suffers from severe depression. Supposedly, about eight years ago, his personality made a complete one-eighty for the worst. He's become reclusive, hardly speaks to anyone, and refuses to interact or participate in activities he enjoyed eight years ago. His family has no idea what could have caused this depression." From the mechanic way Iori spoke, it was evident that he preformed these synopses quite often.

Prodding the box set in front of him, the blonde inquired curiously. "What's this?"

"That… is Motomiya-san's journal."

Quirking a brow, the blonde opened the box. Though rather than the standard book, the sapphire eyed male discovered a tape recorder and a various number of small cassette tapes. "This… is his journal?"

"Motomiya-san plays the piano and tapes his music - recording whatever he will in the language of music. He refuses to explain what he means by his music and none in his family can figure it out. They believe though, that it may be of assistance to you."

"Yeah…" Takeru nearly began to scoff, fiddling with the tape recorder. "Especially when I'm hardly music inclined."

Sighing, the psychiatrist placed the tape recorder back onto his desk and scanned through the contents of the manila folder, his eyes going wide. "Well… this guy's had quite the medical record."

"Thus, you can imagine the family's concern."

"Eleven different psychiatrists?" Takeru near exclaimed, blinking owlishly.

"The longest he's been with one was five months."

"He's also into self mutilation…"

"A common sign of depression, as you know."

"And look at all the pills he's taking… No wonder he's messed up."

Iori frowned at this comment, "That's hardly something professional to say."

"I know." Takeru admitted sheepishly, "But I better get all my surprise out now… new clients are always something completely new."

"Most do happen to have the same problems."

"And yet, they always paint a different picture." Replied the blonde as he leaned back in his seat with a sigh.

There was silence for a moment before Iori responded, "Takeru?"

"What?"

"… Don't try to be metaphorical."

"Too corny?"

"Quite." Smiling mostly to himself, the brunette continued. "Well, at any rate, if you would like to see Motomiya-san, he's actually in the park just down the street from here."

Blinking in surprise at the sudden and unexpected comment, Takeru sputtered a simple, "W-What? Really?"

"Supposedly it's one of the few places he'll go when he isn't locked up in his room."

Smiling, the sapphire-eyed male nodded as he stated, "Well that's a bit of a coincidence. Thanks Iori. This is great, I can see the park from my window."

With a slight bow, the secretary with emerald eyes responded in a business tone, "May I be excused? I have work to attend to."

"Oh, of course. Talk to you later Iori."

Watching as his friend took his leave, Takeru stood up from his seat and walked toward one of his many windows. And for areason implacable to him, he was nervous. Tugging at the hem of his blue collared shirt, the blonde gazed out the window, his cerulean eyes searching.

Finally, he found a vague figure that resembled the picture of his client included in the folder he had been given. Because the silhouette's features were too distant to distinguish definite features, Takeru had to rely on the mass of wild burgundy hair to confirm his suspicions. Yes, he was sure this was Motomiya Daisuke.

It was sudden when burning sphere of the sunset met Takeru's cool azure gaze. Crimson as a smoldering flame, those twin orbs stared with a seductive malevolence like the blonde had never witnessed before. They were calling him, those cinnamon eyes… Alluring him closer until their inescapable fire scalded him.

Takeru's heart skipped a beat.

Then a voice, not unlike the siren's haunting song, infected Takeru's mind. "It's not polite to stare."

A siren's song leading the blonde to his destruction, with eyes that would forever be branded within Takeru's mind.

It was then that Takeru's heart stopped.

- - - - -

End The First Step In A Thousand Miles
.:Carry On Dancing:.