Lucid : I love this couple! –squeals- They were the first ever Yaoi fanfic I ever read . I was just dragged in from then on. HOOKED! Anyways, enjoy the story, and review!

Warning : Boy and boy loving, read or leave!

Disclaimer : I don't own Digimon bummer.

Start-

A tall, harried but more than averagely handsome man dragged a hand through his wild shock of dark brunette hair only to have it spring back in place as if glued.

A sigh fell heavy as a stone from his lips and his features drooped.

Well…it would have to do….

He shook his head and turned away from the mirror, slipping into a pair of tenne-shoes and dragging himself out the door.

It took him longer than usual to get down the two-story flight of stairs, due to his deliberate dawdling. His face crumpled as he finally reached the bottom of the steps, knowing it was inevitable now.

The walk to the parking lot was also far too short, and soon he was in the sleek black convertible with a face tightly drawn into a passive mask.

Thoughts wandered darkly as he drove, on the matter of just why he was so against getting up this morning…

-FLASHBACK-

"But, Sora I don't see why-"

"Of course not, you have no discourse for such things." The pretty platinum-blond haired lady who sat across from him snapped, yet still keeping her voice strangely polite. "But you need to learn it, if you actually expect me to live the rest of my life with you.

His gaze hardened. "Your saying you won't marry me just because I refuse to take dancing lessons?"

A brittle laugh answered his question. "Dancing, darling, is an art. And people of high society are its artists. Do you know how many parties will come in the future that demand its skill? I will not be shamed by a clumsy husband who can not even do the waltz."

"Oh come on, dancing isn't that important. Its just a way to pass the time..."

His fiancé's dark blue eyes glittered coldly.

"Dancing is a great part of my life, and of our society. If you don't learn it, I don't see how we could be together."

-FLASHBACK-

Now, as he drove maybe a little bit to fast down one of many back streets in the city, he thought bitterly of how he had bent to her will. If it was like this now, how would it be after the wedding? That is, if he could even learn to dance in time. He really hated that particular 'art'. Why was she so insistent about it? Probably just to impress all her snobby friends who thought dancing and partying the night away with a cocktail in each hand was the way to live. Well, he didn't drink. And to the dancing…

Another sigh dropped off his lips.

Ten minutes of silence and he pulled up into a small corner parking lot in front of a large, triple-story building painted an irritatingly bright red. Did he get the directions wrong and end up at a fire station? He thought blandly, as he stepped out of his car and shut the door with a careful click. Even in a bad mood, he was careful about his baby.

It beeped a farewell to him as he pressed the lock button and walked away, up the steps and into the big double doors of the building.

The first thing he thought when he entered was 'wow…its really…white…'

And it was. The walls were white, the ceiling was white, the brightly polished floor gleamed freshly painted white, and even the front counter off the right was a marble white.

Pushing thoughts of 'they must have got their designer from the hospital' aside, he walked slowly over to the help center and leaned a shoulder against the high counter as he rang the bell, the squeaky steps coming from behind it making for fast service.

"Hi! May I help you?" Said a very blond, very happy lady in blue slacks and a comfy looking 'white' sweater.

No, I just thought it would be wicked fun to make the bell ding. "Ah, yes." He faked a charming smile, which she fell for. None surprisingly. "I'm here for…. dancing lessons with a Miss Ishida?" He shuddered inwardly at the two words.

"Oh, dancing lessons? How fun." He rolled his eyes, unseen by her as she typed something into the computer and stared at the screen. "Hmmmm…Miss Ishida you say?"

"Yes, that's what I said." He answered through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, there must be some mistake, there is no Miss Ishida here. We do, however have a Mr. Ishida."

His eyes widened and he almost lost his perfect composure in front of the silly waif before he got it under control.

Mr. Ishida? MR ISHIDA? Hell no! What was Sora thinking! No way in HELL I'm going to take dancing lessons from a man!"

"Oh, are you alright, Mr…"

"Mr. Yagami." He said in a pleasant enough sounding voice, though his insides seethed. "I'm sorry, but could you check again? Perhaps you made some mistake…?"

She did as he said, though very slowly it seemed, as he tapped his foot impatiently and inwardly prayed for it to have been wrong.

"I'm sorry, it still said there is only one Ishida, and it is a 'Mr.'"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair once again, confused at what his next move should be.

"Would you like me to take you to him? Perhaps talk things over?"

Talk to him? Maybe that isn't such a bad idea. Maybe it is a girl and she DID make a mistake and everything is still right with the world. If not…

"Uh, Yes. That would be fine."

She nodded and made a quick call on the phone, getting someone to briefly fill in for her while she 'escorted a new student' to his lesson.

We'll just see about that.

"This way please, Mr. Yagami."

She took him down the main hall, floors so shiny he could see their blurry reflections fallowing behind in their shadows. One flight of stairs took them to a smaller hall, and at the third door to the right she stopped and pointed to the number over the doorframe.

"Here it is, where Mr. Ishida takes his classes. Room 367."

He thanked her with a smile; assured her she could indeed leave him to his own devices, and then watched her leave before turning and staring at the door.

It was a nice door, painted a deep red and probably made of some sturdy oak wood. It was the only separation from him and the lessons his fiancé' demanded he take, or she renounce their engagement. It was his last drink before hurling himself into a pit of fire controlled by someone else…most assuredly the first in a long line of demands expected to be met.

How had he got here? Why was his life such a hellhole, where had the fun gone? Why was everything so bleak? Where was the light in his life?

When had everything been turned into questions?

With a final sigh, he reached forward and opened the door to his doom.

And no, he was not being overly dramatic.

All sarcastic thoughts died an early grave as he stood in the doorway rooted to the floor. Cement couldn't have held him any firmer than the sight before him.

Deep, clear pools of golden-melted honey, Hair the color of sun, feathering in breathy light layers around a perfect heart-shaped face. Skin the color of cream, flawless and smooth, lips as pink as cotton candy. Long, lith body bending and stretching, showing more tantalizing milk white skin and long shapely legs.

It was a young man, about his age, slowly doing some sort of ballet. Dressed in skimpy calf-high cargo pants that hung so low on his hips it made you wonder if he was even wearing anything underneath, and an unbuttoned black shirt, rolled up to his elbows.

He leaned over to the right so one hand touched the floor lightly, a slender leg curling up behind him in an arch before he pushed off the ground and stood up smoothly, only to repeat the process on the opposite side.

His molten-honey eyes filled with an intense fire that made each move of his body perfect and filled with inner passion. So certain of his moves, so lost in his world…Indeed, he created a fateful atmosphere with each and every flowing movement. Like magic…

The stunned observer could taste the saliva polling under his tongue. He quickly swallowed.

No, no. Don't think things like that, you're getting married in three months, and he admonished himself sharply.

Really, since he had started getting hot in after Gym showers in 10th grade, he had known his preferences went for both girls and boys. But he had never told anyone, never voiced his desire to be with someone that was the opposite s/x, and never openly acknowledged it.

He knew what would happen.

His parents would disown him, his friend would leave him, and the girl that would be his wife would toss him like a rock filled sac into a sea of hatred. There was too much to be lost, too little to gain…right?

And more importantly, at the moment he had the hand of a very rich, well known and beautiful girl who would not take being left behind for her fiancé's disgusting desires very well.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a soft, mellow voice that could only be called sultry in its tone.

"Well hello there, may I help you?"

He looked up to find those melted amber pools staring directly at him, and in those heat filled eyes he forgot all about the fact that he had a fiancé.

OWARI

Lucid : Ummm…here is the dillio with how I write. Some of you reading my other stuff might be annoyed that I keep adding more stories when perhaps I should be working on the old ones. Well, even If I don't upload the stories into Fanfictions I'm still making them all the time, so it really makes no difference where I put them, does it? Besides, I won't neglect any of my other stories. And sorry for all the Cliffies I've done! harharhar anyways, review!