#but then she refers to daisuke's parents as 'your father and your mother' so

[hoshinos-ryo]

Alright I didn’t have time to see the new episode till just now and I’d like to say: 

WHAT.

Spoilers if you haven’t seen the episode yet:

We all been knew Shigemaru was alive but I still can’t believe Cho -san’s dead?! Takei’s dead??? Like who’s in charge of first division now??? 

(I bet Ryo’s in charge now and he’s gonna think Daisuke killed him or smth but I’m secretly hoping he does a 180 and ends up helping Haru bcs I’m not prepared for that angst)

Daisuke’s kinda really distant now and it just hurts so bad I just,,, that kid seriously didn’t deserve any of this😭😭😭 

Is the intruder guy actually Shigemaru tho 

On another note Haru’s *this* close to losing his shit and I can’t wait for him to go feral

[xoxo-teddybear]

Chaotic Family Tingz - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader ft. Older brother L/N Ryu and Younger brother L/N Itazura

Warnings: Cursing, Crack, Fluff, Tatted Bakugou bc ✨SPICE✨

Summary: You have a very….special family. You were nervous to not only bring your Tatted, motorcycle riding boyfriend to your home but also to show your very loving boyfriend your insane family. Unfortunately, the truth cannot be hidden for long. Unfortunately for your boyfriend, Bakugou, he learned the truth in a very L/N family way.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: Heavily inspired by Good Luck Charlie. ALSO, I wrote this more based around Y/N and her life but Katsuki plays part in it. I still think it’s good bc imagine Bakugou being in this situation 😆🤣

You and Bakugou Katsuki have been dating for a year. You fell in love with the Bakugou Katsuki.

He who had a sleeve full of tattoos, who wore black combat boots and chains, who rode slick black motorcycles yet was a total softie when it came to you

Even though you had been dating for over a year, you didn’t bring him home for multiple reasons

1. You wanted to be sure he was the one before he met your crazy family, 2. You didn’t want him to meet your crazy family

Notice how we keep saying crazy?

Eventually, Bakugou got tired of waiting. He wanted you to be comfortable but he also wanted to know you loved him enough to think he was the guy you would want to bring home to meet your family

Meeting the parents and meeting the family is a big step and shows that you really want him as part of your life. It would mean a whole lot to him

And when he requested to meet your family and you shut it down again, he began to question you

“Do you not want me to meet them because…of me? Do you not want them to meet me?”

You looked at your boyfriend with a sad look as he stared at you like a kicked puppy

“Baby, no. Of course I want my family to meet you.”

“Then why haven’t they?”

“….Because I don’t want you to meet them.”

“What?”

“Suki! They’re insane! I’m just- *sigh.* What if their craziness drives you away from me?”

Bakugou laughed at you in disbelief. Leave you? Like hell he would. Bakugou’s done a whole lot in his life and you are the one thing he got right.

“Yeah no. Sorry princess but you’re stuck with me for life. I’m not going anywhere.” When he said that, he kissed your knuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips which convinced you to let him meet your insane family

He celebrated right in front of you

Anyway, what you need to know is that you’re family is….crazy crazy. Crazy as in things are never boring in your house because things are always happening

(Mind you, the actions below happened before you said yes to letting Katsuki meet your family)

Now back to what we were saying

Bad things happen a lot. Things like your little 11 year old brother, Itazura, always getting into trouble at school. In fact, this time he got into so much trouble that his teacher called for a parent teacher meeting

Not wanting to get in trouble at home, Itazura had you and your brother pretend to be his parents and go to the meeting

Now you said no in the beginning, but he blackmailed you by threatening to tell your parents you broke their priceless-antique wedding china and so you had to give in

It didn’t take much convincing for your older brother, Ryu, to join in on Itazura’s plan. Ryu was a very….simple person.

“You’re just gonna give in like that?” You asked him

“I mean, in the end it just saves time.” He said, referring to how Itazura will always find a way to get what he wants

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

And so, you and Ryu posed as Itazura’s parents. You dressed in your mom’s work clothes while Ryu dressed in a suit and put on a fake mustache for gags

You both presented yourselves along with Itazura to his teacher, who can barely see straight, and the plan went on perfectly. You guys got away with it!

That was until Itazura’s teacher, who was named Mrs. Iko, saw you at the movies on a date with Katsuki

And this is where it all goes down. Take a seat my bitches, and bros, and non-binary hoes cuz shits about to get real

(Shoutout to you if you get the reference ;)

—

*Ding Dong*

Your brother was sitting on the couch with his boyfriend when all of a sudden the doorbell rang, catching Ryu’s attention.

Opening the door, Ryu was met with the sight of Mrs. Iko. She took notice of his younger clothes, appearance, and mustache-less face. “Mrs. Iko? What’re you doing here?”

“Mr. L/N!” Mrs. Iko said with a shocked face and hand over her mouth. “You look so much younger! And your mustache has disappeared!”

Ryu grew visibly nervous at her words and gulped before letting out a shaky laugh. “O-Oh! Right! Yes, Uh- yes I’ve always been known for my Uh- youthful looks! And I just recently shaved- wanted a new look, you know?”

“Oh, well that doesn’t matter. I’m afraid I have some awful news.” Mrs. Iko said with a worried face as Ryu listened. “It’s about your wife.”

At that, Ryu’s longtime boyfriend, Daisuke, stood and walked towards the two. “Your wife? You have a wife?”

“No.” Ryu said.

“You don’t?” Mrs. Iko asked.

“Of course I do!” Ryu said, turning to her. Mrs. Iko looked around as if everyone in the house was crazy (they were) before speaking.

“Who are you?” She asked Daisuke.

“I’m his boyfriend.” He said. At that moment, you walked into the house holding Katsuki’s hand, ready to introduce him to your family, totally unprepared for what was about to go down.

“Hey guys! We’re back from the- GAH!” You said, yelping once you saw Mrs. Iko in the house. Mrs. Iko looked at you and Katsuki in shock as she pointed to you both.

“And here she is with her boyfriend!” Mrs. Iko exclaimed. Ryu felt pressured to play along and tried to save Itazura’s secret by keeping the husband act going.

“You’re cheating on me?!” Ryu said to you. “You’re a married woman!”

“You’re married?!” Bakugou asked you with an angry and hurt voice.

“No! No, no, no, no.” You said with a nervous laugh, trying to reassure him.

“You’re not?” Mrs. Iko asked.

“Of course I am!” You said, snapping your head to her. At that moment, Itazura walked in from the kitchen, but once he saw Mrs. Iko, he quickly turned back to go to the kitchen once more with a shocked expression.

“Geeeh!” He exclaimed before turning around, unfortunately caught by you.

“Uh- ITAZURA!” You shouted from the door as Bakugou held you close by the waist as a way of claiming his territory just in case things were in trouble for the two of you. Don’t worry, they weren’t. He believed you when you said you weren’t married but he’s starting to notice the weird shit that goes down in this house.

Itazura then came back, slowly poking his head in from behind the door as he stepped out. “Yes, Mother?”

Hearing you referred to that, Bakugou’s eyes popped before looking down at you. “Okay! I’m starting to see why you didn’t want me to meet your family.”

You nodded your head in a very ‘yeah…sadly,’ type of way.

“Uh- Itazura,” you said, walking towards your little brother. “Mrs. Iko has found out that your father and I are having problems.” You said in a ‘help us out of this you evil mastermind,’ type of way.

“Uhhh..and does she know that you guys are the reason I misbehave?” Itazura said, loud enough for Mrs. Iko to hear, hoping she would.

“Oh, I do now!” Mrs. Iko said sympathetically. Itazura came in like the evil mastermind he is and pulled out his fake tears.

“Well, maybe some good can come from all this pain,” he said with his fake tears and pouty lip towards his teacher. You faked a laugh before whispering to your younger brother.

“Hehehe…dial it down.” You said to him before turning to his teacher. “Um, Mrs. Iko, if you’ll excuse us, this family has some healing to do.”

“Which! I would like to do with just my parents and their apparent significant others,” Itazura said pointing to Daisuke and Katsuki.

“Welp! You should be on your way! Stay warm now!” Ryu said, beginning to escort Mrs. Iko out the front door by her shoulders. “Don’t wanna freeze off your toes!”

Unfortunately, right before the two reached the door, your actual parents came in. At the sight of them, you and your siblings flinched, sighed, and groaned before facing them. Luckily, Itazura came in once again to try and save the day in his lying ways.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Itazura said going in to hug his actual parents to play his part. Your parents looked down to your brother in confusion and suspicion, well aware that your brother can get into some mischievous trouble.

“What’s going on?!” Your mom said, shaking off your brother’s hug.

“I’m Itazura’s teacher, I came to talk to his parents.” Mrs. Iko said introducing herself and gesturing to you and Ryu, to which the two of you scrunched your faces at being caught.

“We’re his parents.” Your dad said, gesturing to your mom and him. Mrs. Iko grew a face of utter shock before Itazura opened his mouth again.

“Hahaha, that’s right grandpa! You’re my dad!” Itazura said before whispering to Mrs. Iko. “He thinks he’s the president too.”

Your mom looked unimpressed at your brother’s lie until she caught sight of Bakugou in his white v-neck tee, and his big beefy arms covered in tattoos, holding his green bomber jacket, wearing his black ripped jeans and black combat boots. “Who are you?”

“Hey, I’m Bakugou Katsuki.” Your boyfriend said, waving with his gentler voice. Your dad looked outside and pointed to the foreign vehicle in their driveway before turning to Katsuki.

“Is that your motorcycle?” Your dad asked, making you nervous before you jumped to stand next to Katsuki to defend him.

“Um, yeah, about that-“

“I love motorcycles!” Your dad exclaimed with a smile.

“We’re dating!” You proudly said with a bright grin as you wrapped your arms around Katsuki’s as he looked down to you with a loving smile, loving when he heard you say those words to other people.

“Will you stop throwing that in my face?!” Ryu said, still playing his act.

“We’re not doing that anymore.” You blankly said to him with a dead stare.

“Great! Because I was getting a bit confused,” Ryu said and wrapped his arm around Daisuke’s waist.

And on that night, Mrs. Iko left, just as confused as Ryu.

—

“Alright,” your mom began, beginning to speak to you, your siblings, Daisuke, and Katsuki. “You, you, you, you, and you, sit. Now.”

“Uh, sorry,” your boyfriend said, “but I’m not your child. I don’t think you can tell me what to-“

“Did. I. Stutter?” Your mother asked with her devil eyes. Your gentler father stood behind her with a pleading look to your boyfriend to try and convince him to save himself. Katsuki felt his heart shake in fear at your mother’s tone and he opened his mouth to speak before closing it and taking a seat next to you on the couch.

“Mama Bear?” He asked you, referring to your mother.

“Mama Bear.” You confirmed. Bakugou nodded his head before relaxing into the couch.

“Okay. Now somebody tell me what’s going on.” Your mom demanded. You and Ryu remained quiet while your boyfriends sat in confusion. You all looked to Itazura who sighed before giving in.

“Okay, fine. I was getting in trouble at school and it got to the point where I had to have a parent teacher meeting. I didn’t want to get in trouble at home so I blackmailed Y/N and Ryu into being my parents so I could get away with it.” Itazura then explained.

“I guess somewhere along the line, Mrs. Iko caught me and Katsuki together so I guess she came here to tell Ryu, who she thought was my husband, that I was having an affair.” You then explained. Ryu was just sitting on the couch with his arm still around Daisuke before he raised his hand.

Your mother sighed at her oldest child being so..childish. “Yes, Ryu?”

“Uh- no I was just wondering if I could put on the fake mustache again.” He stupidly said with a genuine heart. You and your younger brother sighed in disappointment at his idiocy before turning to your parents.

“So? Are you going to punish us?” You asked your mom. She smiled at you sweetly before taking a seat in front of you on the coffee table.

“Oh, sweetie…..of course we’re going to punish you.” She said while placing a hand on your knee. She then stood to hand out her dealings. “Itazura, no video games, no sleepovers, no tv. Ryu, Y/N - no phones, no tv, no going anywhere after school. All of you, grounded. 2 weeks. We’re letting you keep your laptops for school work so if you need to communicate, use those. Am I clear?”

You and your siblings all nodded before your mother sighed and addressed the last thing. “Now finally, what did you say your name was, sweetie?”

“Oh! Uh, Bakugou Katsuki.” Your boyfriend said. Your mother smiled at him kindly before dropping that smile and giving him a look.

“Age?”

“18.”

“Grades?”

“Straight A’s.”

“School?”

“U.A.”

“Tattoos and Piercings. Why?”

“Most of them are to honor the people in my life.”

“Motorcycle. Why?”

“It was a gift I decided to not let go to waste.”

“Are you an asshole?”

“Only to idiots.”

“Why my daughter?”

“Because when she smiles everything in the world instantly makes sense to me.”

His last answer made you smile at him in awe as you scooted in closer. It also made your parents smile before your mom reached over to place a hand on his arm. “Welcome to the family, Bakugou.”

—

“So that’s your family, huh?” Bakugou asked as you both sat in your backyard on the hammock looking at the starry sky.

“Heh, yeah. A bunch of clowns.” You said, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm held you close.

“I don’t think so. They seem fun.” Bakugou said, trying to uplift your spirits.

“Fun. Crazy. Same shit I guess.” You said causing you both to laugh. Katsuki sighed in gratitude at finally getting to meet your family and allowed his head to drop on your own. “Umm..you’re not gonna leave me though..right?”

“Never.” He said with a small laugh and kiss to the crown of your head. “Like I said, you’re stuck with me. Besides. I now know if I’m ever bored, your family will always be around. S’like free entertainment.” He said making you giggle. “Plus, Itazura doesn’t seem so bad. I don’t know, might wanna pull a few pranks on him just to teach him a lesson.”

“Aww, baby.” You said kissing his cheek. “No you don’t, it’ll backfire on you and he’ll set your ass on fire. Doesn’t matter if you’re 5 years older than him.”

Bakugou widened his eyes in offense before chuckling and cuddling in closer as you both swung on the hammock. That was when you raised your head to look at him. “So…when can I meet your parents?”

Bakugou’s eyes once again popped as he thought about his timid father who was a doormat to his demonic mother. “Uh…I don’t know..They’re kinda…insane.”

Here we go again.

Taglist: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight @lanantoine @whatdidshesayyy @qtsuki @lazyafgurl @dessykcm @misssugarless @unicornlover25 @sweethcnvy @hanamura-manami @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou @ssurewhynottt

[shihalyfie]

Daisuke’s background with his family

We don’t really know a lot about the Motomiya family compared to many of the others in the Adventure and 02 narrative, only getting a few glimpses here and there, and ultimately Daisuke (by his own self-admission) turns out to not really have any deep opinions or hangups about them, but it’s still interesting to see how it has an influence on his background!

We learn in 02 episode 14 that Daisuke and his family actually lived in Odaiba back in 1999, with Daisuke as a (probably honorary) member of the soccer club under Taichi, Sora, and Koushirou. It’s hinted here in Daisuke’s face, but the Adventure novels and Spring 2003 confirm that he was extremely frustrated at his inability to protect his family (with Jun “gently comforting” him), to the point where “becoming strong enough to protect everyone” became his motivation thereafter.

So, really, when it all comes down to it and serious things are happening, this is a family that does have a lot of love for each other -- Daisuke outright admits in the Character Complete File that it gets lonely when even one person’s out.

As it turns out, even the Motomiya parents have really dramatic personalities (the Animation Chronicle calls extra attention to Jun’s personality having been something she got from her mother), to the point where they suddenly get over-the-top excited when Ken comes over in 02 episode 35, and Daisuke’s irritated reaction makes it clear that this is expected behavior from them. (I promise you that Daisuke’s dad’s statement doesn’t come off as nearly as harsh or cruel in Japanese as it probably does in English here; it’s not any worse than him calling Daisuke a little silly.) In the end, Daisuke’s tendency to be over-the-top with all of his emotions and get ridiculously dramatic about everything is just something that came straight from his family.

Actually, when you think about it, Jun isn’t really that different from Daisuke either, right down to losing a ton of brain cells when things start involving a crush -- she’s only slightly more in-your-face about it (and only via goading Yamato on a “date” in 02 episode 7, but this is “date”, singular, basically just convincing him to spend a day with her and take her somewhere, not actually being in the illusion that he returns her feelings or expecting a long-term relationship). She’s simple-minded, airheaded, fantasizes about the idea of Yamato returning her feelings without ever actually doing anything conclusive about it, and then, the moment she realizes that Yamato’s taken, mopes about it for one in-universe day before immediately switching her affections to Shuu like nothing had happened. So, really: it runs in the family.

(This also means that Daisuke’s probably not in for that much trouble if a day ever comes in which it turns out he’s conclusively rejected by Hikari for real -- his current relationship with her is based off him never making any firm statement and thus her being able to smoothly dodge everything, but if things ever truly get conclusively to the point where things won’t pan out for him, it’s not hard to believe he’d actually get over it quickly after an initial bout of disappointment.)

In 02 episode 4, Daisuke makes an accusation of Jun for constantly talking badly about him, and, if the Animation Chronicle is to be believed, he’s not actually wrong -- apparently “spreading bad rumors about him wherever she goes” is a habit she has. Given what we learn about her and the siblings’ relationship later in the series, though, it’s unlikely she’s doing this out of conscious malice -- by “rumors”, basically just trash talking her little brother the same way a lot of people reading this post probably love trash talking their siblings when they’re out of earshot, much like her calling Daisuke “not cute at all” earlier in this same episode. It’s a world that Takeru and Yamato (who had only seen Jun at her “best” earlier in the episode) are completely unfamiliar with, and Daisuke’s attitude of “hating” her causes Yamato and Hikari to get upset at him, but many a Digimon fan commenting on this episode has pointed out that a lot of sibling relationships are more like this than the ones between the Ishida-Takaishi and Yagami siblings -- a lot more ostensibly “vitriolic” and not as unequivocally admiring.

On top of the fact that Daisuke and Jun aren’t in need of overcompensating with their relationship due to a rift like Yamato and Takeru, or one party having unhealthy repression problems and requiring extra care, Daisuke and Jun are also a whole six years apart, which is even given extra attention in the Animation Chronicle. Which means they’re not very close in perspective; Jun’s all the way in high school, dealing with a baby brother who’s still in elementary, and so it’s rather understandable that they’re not really going to see eye-to-eye very much.

We get an example of a “fight” between them in 02 episode 35, but...

Jun: I really envy you, Daisuke...All you do is eat, sleep, play and you don't think about anything else, do you? Daisuke: I think about lots of stuff! Jun: Lots of stuff like what? Daisuke: Like...Lots of complicated stuff. But if I think too much, my brain freezes so I need to take a break sometimes. Jun: I'm sure it's nothing serious. Daisuke: Shut up! What about you?

It’s not really a serious fight at all -- just a lot of banter, the sort that a lot of real-life siblings would attest to also having been in a lot of. Perhaps, just the natural result of having a household where everyone seems to have the same slightly rough-around-the-edges, somewhat messy, overly dramatic, simple-minded and straightforward personality -- which also means they end up bouncing off each other and getting a little “crowded” (Daisuke very clearly not following Jun’s warnings to not use her soap bottles written all over them in red pen in 02 episode 15). But for all Daisuke had used the strong word of “hate” to refer to their relationship back in 02 episode 4, it really just seems like he’d been his usual dramatic self about it, and it’s all banter and occasionally being quick to criticize. Moreover, whenever Jun criticizes him, he’s actually less angry about snapping back at her or getting genuinely offended or sad the way he might with anyone else -- all he does is just fling a few quips back and move on, and doesn’t take it all that personally, so you could say he’s conversely rather comfortable with this status quo of getting to bicker with her.

But, really, banter is just banter; even something as little as “Daisuke (seemingly) laughing to himself in the bathroom” is enough to make Jun worry that something’s wrong with him in 02 episode 15, and Daisuke’s father also personally thanks Natsuko for helping Daisuke out and waxes cheerfully about his son and friends having a fun Christmas party together. In fact, considering the context that Daisuke seemed to be pretty friendless prior to the series, the above scene carries the added implication that he’s probably pretty happy to see his son finally making some proper friends and going all the way to Tamachi to be part of a party.

And, eventually, as things get much more serious and the exact truth behind what Daisuke’s been up to is revealed to his family in 02 episode 50, they take this with the exact amount of grace and worry that a proper supportive family does.

Hence, why Daisuke can make a statement like this in 02 episode 49. Even if his family isn’t ostensibly full of hearts and affection, they’re supportive when it really comes down to it, and it’s not like Daisuke himself even really takes the surface bantering between himself and his sister all that seriously, so he doesn’t feel the need to ask for anything different -- and what he really wanted since that day three years ago was to be able to protect his family, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do now. Other than Hikari, the others had gotten “illusions” related to deep-seated issues involving their personal lives, but it’s not like he really would want it to be any different at home -- arguably it’d be outright weird to him if Jun suddenly got lovey-dovey with him or something -- and now he’s surrounded by supportive friends and his own partner. Sure, he has some tendencies towards being a bit on-edge and insecure every so often, but right now, in the midst of this very serious situation when something has to be done, and after a whole series’ worth of bonding with his new friends and gaining a sense of purpose, that’s more than enough for him.

[hackereaped]

                  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝟎𝟎𝟐 → THE BITO FAMILY.

This post contains a breakdown and expands on The Bito Family, primarily getting into the details of Beat and Rhyme’s parents and expanding on a few things. This is a collaborative meta with @skullreaped​ and is based on our personal portrayal of the family. tw: mentions of panic attacks and references emotional / mental abuse, curate your space!

Bitō Daisuke, father, 46 years old ( 28 when Beat is born, 29 for Rhyme. )

Daisuke is the Director of Operations after working his way up in a company. Due to his schedule, he’s typically a bit more predictable as to when he can be around Beat and Rhyme, though with his line of work along with location, he’s away at times leaving the siblings to fend to themselves seeing as his wife has a more unpredictable schedule due to her line of work. Daisuke is absolutely more strict and tougher on the kids, primarily Beat, due to the fact that he’s the older son and he has plans for his future already, down to even having him named after him. He pushes Rhyme to study more and to keep up the good work when they return with top grades and scores, though will absolutely point out where improvement can be made. 

Daisuke and Beat butt heads a lot because of different views. Daisuke expects certain behaviors and actions out of his kids and being around them the most, he typically makes the calls and passes judgement which his wife follows suit with due to her exhaustion from work. This absolutely results in unfair treatment against Beat and more pressures placed over Rhyme.   

Bitō Kazane, mother, 45 years old ( 27 when Beat is born, 28 for Rhyme. )

Kazane is a doctor who spends many nights away working sporadic shifts in the hospital. Because of this, she isn’t around the family as often compared to Daisuke. While she primarily wants what is best for her children and is absolutely softer on them in comparison, thanks to her work leading her to be exhausted most days that she is around, she typically agrees with her husband considering he spends more time with them, so would know them best. 

She primarily goes off when it comes to the lower grades and wanting to motivate Beat to do better, wanting Rhyme to keep leading by example. To show what he’s capable of based upon how she handles things. She does typically take Rhyme’s suggestions for things like meal choices over Beat, agreeing with Daisuke when it comes to specific diets and things they cannot have as punishments. ( There’s a lack of sweets for both growing up as an example. )

A few more family related headcanons to toss in here, primarily Rhyme and Beat’s upbringing and their struggles / lifestyle they live thanks to their parents.

Thanks to their parent’s careers, they are actually pretty well off. 

Daisuke and Kazane enlist Beat and Rhyme into a private school setting, both siblings end up passing and gaining admission. 

Rhyme helps Beat study for the exam so they can both enroll together.

Beat has a hard time keeping up with the curriculum however, despite passing the entrance exam, the school’s style makes it more difficult on Beat to pass his classes and keep up.

Due to what is at risk should they fail out, a lot more pressure is placed over Rhyme to keep their grades up, wanting to ensure their parents are proud and not let anyone down. She ends up doubling up and agreeing to be enrolled in a cram school to ensure they are top in their class to keep them proud. 

Beat and Rhyme typically fend for themselves for the most part when both parents are away on business and work, this leads them to being decent cooks, both swapping dinner nights and prepping meals for the other when their day comes.

There are some days where they will sneak a few meals they know they cannot have when they realize they’re going to be alone for a while.

The siblings have their father’s eyes, this sometimes makes looking in the mirror difficult for both Beat and Rhyme for different reasons.

Daisuke and Kazane have never witnessed or realized Rhyme has had panic attacks.

Beat is the first person to witness Rhyme’s panic attacks.  

Rhyme is the one who gets to see how hard Beat tries with studying and doing his part for the family, working hard to try and keep up despite how difficult it is for him. He does his best to take care of her and has her take breaks when it’s too much with video games and other distractions, Rhyme will return the favor for him. 

Thanks to the pressures placed on them by mother and father, Rhyme doesn’t really have true friends until the events of TWEWY take place, there are acquaintances they get along with and have spent time with on occasion but her primary focus is Beat and her parents, wanting to do right by them and to make them all proud by studying extra hard or prepping to attend cram school. 

Had it not been for the whole reset button being pressed, they would have changed their ways more than likely, mourning their children would have done a lot to them, but since they don’t remember and only Rhyme and Beat do, it’s like nothing has changed in the home and the trauma resumes. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

[ecclectricity]

                                 We need not mourn the dead, they are already gone.                    Mourn those who survive them - they need yet endure their absence.

    Daisuke never understood the idea that ignorance is bliss.

    As someone privy to all information at the flick of a wrist, the concept of someone being better off not knowing something had always baffled him. The thing that had finally wrested him from his monochromatic life had been a pursuit of knowledge - a truth that the powers of the universe had seen fit to keep from him. And in learning that truth, he finally reached a conclusion:

    Ignorance. . . had its perks.

    No, no, that wasn’t strictly true, but as he walked up to the building ( clinical inside and out, a single floor for accessibility, but built on a private beach for the veneer of privacy and luxury - a perfect place to hide someone who wasn’t supposed to exist, view and anonymity ), he could nearly understand the appeal. Two weeks ago, the idea of seeing this man again turned his blood caustic, built in the back of his throat. Today?

    Well, his stomach was still turning. Just in a very different way.

    Daisuke thought he heard Katou speak - maybe he was trying to do that thing he did for all of their ( Katou’s - you resigned ) coworkers: offering a kind word of support, despite their tenuous navigation of partnership up until now. It wasn’t that he wasn’t appreciative, but the sound of his own blood in his ears melded with the surf, his eyes drawn to the beginning dredges of the setting sun glistening off steel blue cinder blocks and distorted one-way glass.  Katou may have noticed how one-track Daisuke’s mind could get. And this was one thing that, despite strong urges to permit himself to do, he was not going to pass up.

    He blinked, and found himself within the compound - his body had moved without him. The inside was as impersonal as the outside. Even the staff donned the most basic of scrubs, the most utilitarian of resources. He half expected that his grandmother might have been more profligate in the care of her son, he thought with no small amount of ire. From what the staff was telling him though, the expense would be unnecessary. What were finaries to someone who could not appreciate them?

“Now, please don’t be disheartened. We have been taking exemplary care of your father all this time, but I do feel I should warn you of his state. You see-”

    Unresponsive to all but the most extreme of situations for years, prone to fits of panic and unrest, nary a glint of recognition at even the closest of family members ( what a way to find out not only had she hidden him, let Daisuke believe the panicked and simple explanations of an impetuous child, but she’d visited him without a word- ). The odds were slim that Daisuke would even meet his eye, let alone hear his voice.

    Oddly, that wouldn’t be much of a change from the last two decades. In all ways other now than physical, his father was a corpse.

    The doctor loomed by the door, and Daisuke could recognize how unnerved he was. The scion of the Kambe family wasn’t supposed to know this place existed, let alone access it. How to behave, what would be acceptable; he was used to watching that expression, the bow and scrape of those trying to curry his favor. He wasn’t here for the doctor, hadn’t even bothered to read his name tag - there would be no favor for that man.

    Instead, Daisuke swallowed the lump that had formed unbeknownst to him in his throat ( what for, nothing’s going to happen, this won’t mean anything, it changes nothing, you’re being foolish- ) and reached for the door. Steadily, just as he’d been instructed- no quick or unpredictable movements, no loud sounds-, he turned the handle. He slid into the doorway and clicked it gently shut behind him. 

    Shigemaru’s back was to him. Seated as he was in that wheelchair, the window let in light just enough to frame him with a halo of sunlight that bounced off the waved just beyond his window. Daisuke wanted to spare a look around the room - he had every intention of doing so, especially since he could see from beyond his periphery that this was the room where opulence had been allowed ( perhaps to try to suss out the man within the shell? Or to simply offer comfort - he didn’t know what the thought process was ). But he found himself stuck on the visage in a way he hadn’t been back in Lab 3, seeing that familiar face long thought dead. This wasn’t the vindicated anger he’d felt before, the kick down the pitch he needed to push just a little more to find his answers. There was no accomplishment here. Rooted to the spot, Daisuke thought he was being pulled by two strings in his heart - apprehension and grief.

    He hadn’t mourned when he was told his father had passed in near tandem with his mother. Daisuke knew what he’d seen, and for the few days following, he would not spare the tears- he pestered and poked and practically plagued his grandmother with his, as she referred to them, baseless accusations, his insistence that he knew what father did. She would hear none of it, and by the time that the investigation had reached his home, he’d been extricated. ‘In his grief’, she had cited, it had been deemed best for him to be ‘cared for in England with family’. His exasperation, resentment grew over the next few years, curdling from patience to apathy as the idea of ever convincing someone, finding that justice for his mother became nothing more than a blip on the horizon. Only one person had ever trusted him, endorsed his ideas.

    And it was partially thanks to her that he was here, in a way. It wasn’t an ideal solution, and reconciling it against nineteen years of vexation and vitriol was not so easily done. It was obvious and incomprehensible why his chest seemed to want to cave in on itself ( even beyond the still mending broken ribs ). 

    Daisuke was uncertain if he had stared for thirty seconds or minutes by the time he summoned the courage ( damn it all ), the determination to cross the room. If this were a movie, it’d be a touching reunion- despite his years of acrid resentment, he was ready to accept his father and be a family, and through those sincere feelings of love, his father would awaken and the sunset would glow behind them and their fond tears. . . sounded like something Katou would watch.

    Reality wasn’t so rose-tinted, and Daisuke grabbed the chair from the clearly unused desk, tugged it into place, and took a seat with his back to the window, facing his father.

                   His father. . .

    Daisuke’s memory was hardly photorealistic, not blessed in the way Suzue was, but his parents’ were faces he would never be able to forget. Despite that, Hattori looked more like Shigemaru than his own flesh and blood. It was as though his face had been shorn off to create that mask Hattori had donned, replaced instead with the mask, the remnants that his own mother’s actions had left him with. And somehow, Daisuke found a bit of comfort in the unrecognizability of it all. A thin veil from the reality he was being battered with wasn’t a bad thing.

    For a long moment, Daisuke simply watched him. And stewed. Where previously he had understanding in his emotions, a quiet in his unreset, that equilibrium began to stir.

    “I suppose I should say something.”

    His words were a gunshot in a monastery. 

    Shigemaru didn’t flinch.

     “Perhaps not.”

    His heart twisted, and it felt for a moment like the room was starting to bend and bow. If he weren’t sitting, perhaps it would have been an issue. But as he stared at the unmoving face of his father ( he knew- they had told him and he knew ), it was as if his body, after nineteen years, had finally started to learn the process of grieving. What perplexed and frustrated him was what he was grieving.

    Sayuri Kambe was dead, and her justice had been dealt. Nothing he had done, could ever do, would fix that.

    Shigemaru Kambe wasn’t. And somehow, he was just as much a victim as Sayuri, even more than Daisuke himself: they both had died on that day.

    And that had taken everything from him.

    A father was supposed to teach their son. If Daisuke had known, if he had taken a few steps into that room, perhaps he could have learned, changed the unbearable present he now needed to navigate. If just a small step could have changed this, enlightened him. . . Daisuke could have had a father.

    He could have taught him how to tie his own tie instead of Suzue, who finally caught him fumbling with it at the start of year six. He could have shown him which scotch was actually decent instead of just a price on a bottle ( his father had always seemed to know that sort of thing ). He could have shown Daisuke how to dress in an austere, classy way without being garish or pompous - trust him, the start of secondary had been a testament to needing that lesson quicker than he’d gotten it, though he imagined he’d found a healthy middle by now. He could have taught him how to impress women ( men? Would that conversation have ever come up? Would they have been close enough, would it have mattered to Shigemaru? ). He could have taught him to take over the Kambe family with earnestness and devotion rather than the resignation that no one else, nor likely himself, was dutifully qualified for the position. 

    He was supposed to have fought with him, scolded him for being selfish and irresponsible with their wealth, taught him how to have an argument and still manage to come back together despite it ( that was what he meant to happen, wasn’t it. . .? What he’d thought that night would be. . .? )

    Shigemaru Kambe should have been his father.

    Shigemaru Kambe was a husk.

    And Daisuke was just as helpless and impudent as he had been at eight, but ignorance had matured into wisdom to know now that this was something he could never remedy.

    He was gripping his pant leg hard enough that the burns on his hand were starting to hurt more than the nails through the fabric of his suit pants. Daisuke focused, bit down on his lip harder than he strictly should have to stop that incessant wobbling, and adjusted his gloves with a wince. This was getting neither of them anywhere.

    Standing, Daisuke felt his limited balance in the wake of everything catching up with him, reaching back to steady himself on his chair. Maybe Suzue was right. Coming here wasn’t helpful when he didn’t even know what he wanted from it. But he’d needed to know, to affirm with his own eyes. . . for some reason. Maybe later he could look back and feel better about this moment.

    Right now, he felt uncommonly faint, the churning in his stomach doing no assist to his carefully doctored composure.

    Stiffly, Daisuke stood, adjusting his tie, before offering a bow. “I hope I haven’t taken up too much of your time. . . Kambe Shigemaru.” Can’t say it to him, can you? Coward. After all of the time resenting him, calling him father felt disingenuous and disrespectful.

     He stood. He took a deep, purposeful breath through his nose. He took two steps-

    Something caught his wrist.

    Startled, he paused, peering down. Shigemaru’s left hand had caught the edge of his suit jacket, and while the force on it was minuscule, there was the barest of a grip. Daisuke felt as if the room had begun hurtling through space, blurring around him. He wasn’t supposed to recognize anything that had happened, he never reacted or responded, that’s what they’d told him. This wouldn’t be some movie magic or heartfelt reconciliation, it was reality and it was-

    “Say. . . Sayuri. . .”

    Cruel. And purposelessly so.

    Shigemaru’s hand dropped listlessly against the arm of his chair, and Daisuke could almost make out the muttered words, “Looks just. . . just like my. . .”

    Of all the things he resented his grandmother for, he was appalled and insurmountably aggrieved to know that what could have been his father - the real one, one whose only crime had been grief and allegiance to a family prepared to bloody themselves for greed and impunity - was among them. That was something he could never have back, despite his proximity. He hadn’t been this close to his father in nineteen years, but the chasm between them stretched further than it had in twenty-seven. The bridge wasn’t burned, it was surgically removed, the ground on the far side buckled and cracked until it was so beyond repair that no amount of stabilization could remedy it.

    Daisuke closed his eyes, steeled his breath. He took five seconds to collect himself.

    One.

        Two.

            Three.

                Four.

                      . . . 

    He opened his eyes. “Goodbye.”

    The door opened easily, and Daisuke did not bother to stick around to brief the doctor on his family reunion. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he made a bee-line to the entrance. 

    It was like succor to the parched, opening the door from that sterile building and bathing himself in the warmth of the setting sun yet again. A smell of salt and brine had never been so inviting, and it felt like the very act of leaving the building had severed an unknown chain that had tied him so tight that every sinew relaxed. The faint feeling came back for a moment, wafting over him in the wake of the tension leaving, but another deep breath and a lean against the wall for a spell remedied it well enough. He was free, in a way. There was certainly one shackle of his history still tethered to him- he could tell from the cold spot in his chest that remained despite the sun and the distant sight of his partner in the distance. But he supposed that was just his burden to bear.

    His balance still fought with him as he stepped pointed from one rock to the next, picking his way from the grassy hill to the beach where Katou stood.

    “Were you able to meet him?” Katou asked.

    “No.” The reply left him before he could reconcile that he was speaking, but it was no less true. He’d simply attended a wake, nothing more.

    He spared one glance back. Just the one. He could give himself that. 

    And then he moved on. He’d never been able to accept ignorance.

    Just once, maybe he regretted his diligence.

[fmdjoosungarchive]

sung vs choi family home (interior)

word count: 1559

tldr; wanted to map out a floorplan and give more details on each of the rooms of the house. very warm environment here. 4bd, 3ba home

when you walk into the choi’s cottagecore nightmare outside, there’s a little entryway with hooks for keys, closeted storage for coats n things, and neat slots to put your shoes

when you go past that, you get to the living room. there are two full sized couches in an l shape, as well as The Dad Chair

the coffee table is usually pretty busy, with magazines, newspapers, occasionally files, most often at least one cup of coffee placed on a brown and yellow patterned coaster

to the left is a wall with open sides at either end. on the wall, there’s a fireplace. above it, a shelf with knick knacks. wooden dolls, glass blown animals, half of which were made by family members. on the wall itself hangs a litany of pictures, family ones. most of the pictures are of sung and his brother from when they were kids, as well as sung’s nephew, though there are pictures of group shots here and there

if you go on either side of the wall, you would meet the dining table. live flowers sit as the permanent centrepiece, though the room is usually pretty bare aside from that because of the big fat window. wooden table, wooden chairs with cushions

to the right of the dining room is the kitchen, which is the most modern and ostentatious of the entire house, due to the higher end appliances. while the house itself was more sung’s dad’s dream, the kitchen was his mom’s

like the fireplace wall, the entire kitchen sings with her energy. although it has the most ~rich~ feeling, it also has quite a cozy feeling to it. with little sayings and bright, warm landscapes on the walls, and usually some kind of dish set out on the counter, this room almost makes you feel like a silver spoon child who has a nanny that loves you more than your own mother

heading back to the living room, if you’d taken a right instead, you’d be faced with a small hallway, and stairs. on the wall of the hallway is more pictures. these pictures have more family group shots, as well as a picture of element

at the end of the hallway is a small bathroom, just enough to get the job done, but stylized with plentiful fluffy towels, and a soap dispenser in the shape of a seahorse

backing up, there’s a bedroom as well in the hallway, one that is always pristine, for the event of guests staying over. it holds a few filing cabinets, as well as a desk that sung’s father uses to do Business Paperwork. however, when sung’s maternal grandmother soon moves in, that room has been designated for her

up the stairs, there’s another hallway space, with a bookcase against a wall, and a chair beside it. empty spaces on the bookshelf are filled with more knick knacks, and all other excess wall space is occupied by more family photos

there are four doors in the hallway, from left to right, sung’s room, sungmin’s room, a bathroom, and his parents’ bedroom

his parents’ bedroom is the most basic looking of the upstairs bedrooms. mrs choi and mr choi have very different styles, which means there’s compromising to be made. their bedspread is grey, powder blue, and white, in a triangular geometric shape pattern. their nightstands match, as do their lamps, and the presence of books lined along the nightstands’ shelves, but the contents of said books are very different from one another

along the wall of the side sung’s mother sleeps on are drawings and art pieces that sung, sungmin, and his nephew taehwan have made

underneath and behind that is a mirror, and below that is a dresser, topped with more knick knacks, and a small perfume collection

his father’s side of the room has the closet, as well as a door to their suite bathroom, so there’s less room for other things, but he doesn’t mind. yes u can go ahead and make fun of sung for that whole ‘you look for partners that remind you of your parents’ thing,, bc it’s true lol

in the wall space he does have, is a short line of framed papers that matter to him, like his diploma, and proof of ownership of his first store

the suite bathroom is similar to the one downstairs, though it’s bigger, has a soap dispenser shaped like a seashell, and there are rugs under the sink and in front of the shower

back in the hallway, the other bathroom is similar to the suite bathroom, though minimally smaller, in a different color scheme, and with a dolphin shaped soap dispenser

sungmin’s room naturally looks like a stereotypical teenage boy’s room

their mom was cursed to have two messy boys, and a conservative mindset that meant she was the one who cleaned up most over teaching her boys how to clean up after themselves

sungmin’s wife was good for him in that way, because any time he comes over with her and taehwan, he makes sure to come to the house a day early so he can clean up and make his wife happy

when they come over with him, his childhood stuff gets set aside to make room for their family in the space, but the childhood room is still how it was from when sungmin was a preteen up until he left home to get married

mostly, that’s in video games. his room has a tv setup, with a tv from 2010, and a whole load of game consoles. the only thing that was ever kept right, were his cords that were well wrapped up and separated so he could easily switch from console to console

a lot of the storage space was spent on video game disk holders, though on one wall there’s a line of shelving with different trophies and medals from sports, though mostly soccer, as that was the one he competed in most often

on the opposite wall is a signed poster from soccer player jung jogook as well as a ...dicey lara croft poster that’s usually covered up in case of taehwan coming over

in sung’s bedroom,,,, frankly it’s not all that different from his side of the element dorm, or what he’d put in daisuke’s apartment

however it Looks very different

on the left side of the room, against the wall and under a window, is sung’s twin sized bed. the sheets are a standard blue color, and top of them is a pile of stuffed animals

not a literally pile, tho, as all of the animals are sat upright in rows, to make a triangle-ish shape by the pillow

in that pile, the stuffed animals tend to switch out, either by sung’s mom switching them, or sung doing it himself when he comes over, but there is one constant, which is the puppy that sung was given as a toddler, that he considers to be his first real stuffed animal. the puppy has gone through so many name changes over the years that by now, sung just refers to them as puppy

those aren’t the only stuffed animals in the room by any means, as each of the three bookshelves lining a wall has them on top, on shelves holding up books, and on the floor in front of them

again bc of his poor mom, the floor is always clean when he’s not in the house, but when he’s staying over, it starts to become littered with his clothing. or his notebooks. or bags. or wallet. or,, anything else that he doesn’t want to carry while he’s chilling in his room

in the left wall to the door is sung’s closet, which exemplifies what is so wrong looking about the rest of sung’s room, despite it sounding similar

the majority of the clothing in that closet is either suits, or the same pairs of polo shirts and slacks in different color sets

there are some other clothing items, pajamas, kitchsy shirts from vacation or gifts from family members, some casual home clothes, but even then, it’s all in plain colors, and simplistic, masculine cuts. sung rarely goes in his closet, because it explains more than anything else in that room, the kind of person he was pushed into being before he became a trainee

over the years, only some things have changed in that room

there’s a small section of shelf with a couple of lightsticks sung didn’t have room for in the element dorm (and that he keeps telling himself to bring to daisuke’s, but never ends up doing)

there’s a small section of wall with photos of friends and the element members

he’s brought some of his colorful string lights to add along the... uh,, ceiling crotch? idk what to call it. anyway the purpose is to brighten up the room and make it feel less drab

he switched out his plain white curtains for lavender ones with kitty paw prints on them

and, he keeps a small dresser under his bed, with pull out drawers, where he keeps clothing that an older, and more free, sung can dress with

the room feels Wrong to sung as well, but he’ll always keep some memory of it, to see how far he’s come by now

okay das it bye

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 4/4: Start over

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: Mature. WORDCOUNT: 10 247 PAIRING(S): Endgame Taito, though the fic is primarily Taichi-centric. Side pairings include Takeru/Hikari and discussion of past Sorato. CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya, Yamato Ishida, Hikari Kamiya, Takeru Takashi, Daisuke Motomiya, Agumon, Veemon, Gabumon, Sora Takenoushi, and mentions of the rest of the gang. GENRE: Friends to friends-with-bonus-kissing. Also future!fic. TRIGGER WARNING(S): Depression and discussion thereof, including one briefly mentioned suicide attempt in chapter two. SUMMARY: In which Taichi has questionable ways to handle his issues, everyone tries to be nice, and Yamato yells at him a lot. Same old, same old, except for the part where there’s kissing.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: [I. Epic Fail] [II. Rock Bottom] [III. Get Up]

Despite her father’s protests, Ms. Takashi insists to drop Taichi off at his place before she drives home. It’s almost a two kilometers detour, but it does mean Taichi will get to exit the car sooner, and he’s willing to bet Ms. Takashi appreciates that as much as he does. They go through the ride in silence, barely broken by Mr. Takashi’s increasingly feeble attempts at starting a conversation, and by the time they pull up in front of Taichi’s building it’s all he can do not to burst out of the car and flee without a word.

He hurries through the goodbyes, trying his best not to catch anyone’s eyes, and bites on a sigh when Yamato mumbles a quick ‘I’ll walk you’ before exiting the car in turn, without regard for his mother’s attempt at protesting.

They stride across the sidewalk in silence, back resolutely turned to Ms. and Mr. Takashi, pass the double glass doors without a word—Taichi doesn’t even mutter half-hearted threats at the faulty key to his mailbox—and come to a halt in front of the elevator while they wait for it to come back from the twelfth floor. On his left, Taichi can feel, more than he sees, the way Yamato purses his lips in concentration, giving Taichi ample time to cringe at what is sure to be coming before he finally says:

“’Maybe Gabumon has a sister’,” dragging the words out to maximize their power.

It works admirably well, and it feels like eighty percent of Taichi’s blood floods up to his face in the a split second as he covers his eyes with one hand and all but begs:

“Please stop talking.”

“No, really,” Yamato insists without looking away from the elevator, “it’s an interesting strategy to avoid that dinner.”

“I’m never gonna be able to look your mom in the eyes again,” Taichi half-whines, the heat in his face so bad he almost wants to take his coat off.

“Look at it form the bright side,” Yamato continues, voice ridiculously—and unfairly—steady throughout it all, “at least you know you deserve your crest—it takes a lot of courage to suggest people take up best—”

“Oh my god,” Taichi exclaims, burying his face in his hands, seconds away from puffing smoke out of his ears, “just shut up!”

“Relax,” Yamato says, laughter seeping in at the edge of his voice, “it worked—the families meeting is definitely postponed now.”

Taichi uncovers his face just long enough to smack his friend in the arm—it doesn’t quiet him down, though, just makes him throw his head back in a bark of laughter that could put his grandfather to shame.

“It’s your fault anyway,” Taichi protests, fingers muffling his words, “if you didn’t hate your family so much—”

“I don’t hate them,” Yamato cuts in, tone just firm enough to make Taichi come out of his little hiding place, “it’s not my fault they still want to pretend their divorce never happened.”

“Okay,” Taichi concedes, softening his voice as he knocks his shoulder against Yamato’s, “but if you didn’t put so much effort in keeping us apart I wouldn’t have panicked, and we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Which would be a shame,” Yamato answers, shoulders barely even stiffening as he speaks, “since I’d have missed your face just now.”

Taichi’s face contorts in surprise and mock offense as Yamato snorts in laughter again, and they exchange a few weak punches before the elevator doors ding open in front of them. Taichi pulls his tongue out at Yamato as he steps inside and pushes the ‘close ’ button with a grin threatening to break out on his face. Yamato rolls his eyes at first, then his face contracts and he holds the door back, mouth pinched with the weird kind of solemnity that comes with important topics.

“Do you think we should do this? The dinner, I mean?”

“I...think your granddad wants to know who his grandsons friends are,” Taichi says, thinking of the many times Yamato declined to have dinner with his family when there wasn’t anything actually in the way, “and I think your mom’s just trying to be your mom again.”

“She’s sixteen years too late,” Yamato snaps—Taichi, who sometimes still refers to his parents’ flat as ‘home’, watches him pause, pinch at the bridge of his nose, and take a deep breath before he says: “the old man and her—they think I made a choice, but I didn’t. I was nine!”

“Yamato—”

“Look, I’ve waited thirteen years for them to be my parents again,” Yamato insists—Taichi almost turns away from him when his voice thickens, but Yamato hasn’t tried to hide his wounds from him for years. He’s not about to stop looking at them—“I’m done. I wish I weren’t, but I’m done.”

“Okay,” Taichi says, knowing better than to push the topic.

Neither he nor Yamato are in a state where they can really handle this conversation—years and years of trying to bridge such a defining gap in their understandings of the world has taught them this, at least: family talks never end well unless proper conditions are met.

Standing in a public hallway while they hog the elevator to themselves doesn’t even come close.

“Fine,” Yamato says after a while, wincing when two sharp honks pierce through the air, “let’s do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Taichi reminds his friend but, well.

He knows what the look on Yamato’s face means, and he knows it’d take a severe beating and quite a lot of yelling to change the guy’s mind now.

(He should know, he’s done this before.)

“You’re my best friend,” Yamato starts, and Taichi can’t help but interrupt with:

“Second best friend.”

“Yeah, okay—”

“Or should that be third? Because Sora—”

“Taichi!” Yamato protests as his mother’s car—although, Taichi would bet, not Ms. Takashi herself—honks again, “are you even going to let me finish?”

“Sorry,” Taichi replies, fingers itching to hit the ‘close doors’ button, “go on.”

“You’re my best friend,” Yamato says again, almost like it’s no big deal except for the way his knuckles have grown white as he grasps the elevator threshold and the way his blue eyes won’t let go of Taichi’s, “and I know it matters to you. So let’s do this.”

“Okay,” Taichi replies, too breathless for comfort. Then, when the unexpected moment threatens to stress him out even more: “I can’t believe we’re close enough for you to invite me into your other life.”

“Okay that’s it,” Yamato says, rolling his eyes as he straightens up, “I’m canceling the thing!”

“No, no, no!” Taichi protests, laughter creeping into his voice even as Yamato grunts when someone honks again, “no take backs allowed! I’m officially meeting your parents!”

Yamato’s face grows four shades redder than usual as he all but throws himself away from the elevator, spluttering something indistinct about his father not being invited—no surprise there—and Taichi puts his best grin on as the elevator dings to signal the end of its wait.

“Think of all the embarrassing baby stories I’ll get to hear!” Taichi yells through the closing door, and laughs when Yamato slices a finger across his neck.

{ooo}

“You’re in a good mood,” Agumon remarks when Taichi enters the apartment a few minutes later, “that’s nice!”

“Yeah, it is,” Taichi agrees as he hangs his keys next to the door, “it’s been a while. Where are the others?”

“They phoned earlier,” Agumon explains while Taichi marches to the kitchen and dives into the fridge without waiting—he’s feeling ravenous, and if he’s got to wait for his roommates to come back before he can eat he’s going to need some sustenance—“said they’d be out late and we shouldn’t wait for them.”

“Really?”

Taichi pauses in his exploration of the—empty—quarter of the fridge not devoted to Daisuke’s professional supplies to frown in surprise. Veemon and Daisuke have been coming back from work exhausted every night for a while now—it’s a cause for celebration in that it means their business is doing well, but it also makes the news surprising.

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” Agumon replies—Taichi doesn’t have to see him to know he’s shrugging, and he can’t help but return the gesture, even hidden behind the fridge door.

“Just the two of us then,” he says with a smile, “wanna order some Chinese?”

“You don’t like Chinese food,” Agumon remarks when Taichi straightens up—he blinks, a little owlishly, when their eyes meet, but Taichi shrugs:

“Felt like indulging you. It’s been too long since I did that.”

Agumon doesn’t bounce in place—he’s been doing that less often lately, and while at first Taichi wondered if maybe that was his fault, or at least due to his state of mind, it ‘s starting to look more like one of the little ways in which Agumon ages, too. Instead, Taichi finds himself looking down at interrogative green eyes, Agumon’s head tilting to the side as he works on the question he obviously wants to ask.

“What?”

“You really are in a very good mood,” Agumon says.

He grins, wide and a little smug like he’s figured something out that Taichi hasn’t yet, before he turns around and leaves the kitchen. Taichi blinks after him for a second or two, but then—why be picky? He’s in a good mood, Agumon is in a good mood, there’s no reason to try and dissect the situation, after all.

He smiles, unsurprised, when Agumon suggests walking to the restaurant instead of ordering through the phone.

{ooo}

“How long has it been since we did that? It feel like it’s been ages!”

“It probably has,” Taichi admits.

They’re on their way back, strolling along the semi-empty streets in their matching winter coat—Taichi always thought the identical outfits were a bit too much, but Agumon was so happy when Sora offered to make them he didn’t have the heart to protest. They’ve been doing this for a couple of years now, pulling the thing out of storage every winter, and Taichi is finally getting ready to admit it’s actually little cute, sometimes.

“We have to do that more often,” he says with a contented sigh, “I missed it. It’ll be nice.”

“Oh,” Agumon adds, the familiar bounce back in his step, “we should go with the others too! We can invite Sora and Biyomon for the weekend, and Mimi and Palmon can portal back, and we’d all go to the restaurant together to celebrate Yamato and Gabumon’s visit! Wouldn’t that be nice? We never do that in the human world.”

Taichi pauses at that, trying to picture what the evening would be like—all their friends gathered together like old times, with the same cheap food and the same silly jokes they used to build and maintain their friendships with. This time, the digimons wouldn’t have to pretend they’re toys though. They’d have their own seats and their own plates and their own orders and they’d be able to talk and laugh and joke with the rest of the group, as carefree and loud as decency would allow.

They’d talk about the good old days, jokes about the things they’ve done, the places they’ve been, the friends they met...and none of it would ring a bell for Agumon, or Gabumon, or any of the older ones.

Taichi’s smile falters a little, and Agumon stiffens beside him, sensing the problem before he even really has to guess it—he’s looking for something to say, maybe even a way to change the topic, claws clicking in the air, when Taichi surprises them both by saying:

“Actually, we’ve done it plenty of times before.”

He’s not sure why he said it—it scratches at the corner of his eyes, tightens his throat on the last words, but he doesn’t stop. Keeping his mouth shut about this—about a lot of other things but mostly, he’s come to realize in therapy, about this—hasn’t exactly worked in his favor so far, after all. He might as well keep going.

Besides, he reminds himself as he watches Agumon carefully school his features to dim his curiosity, he’s not the only one who needs to have this conversation.

“There was this coffee shop,” he explains, laying a hand on Agumon’s shoulder and drawing strength from the contact, “we’d meet there when we needed to talk about what needed to be done about the Digiworld, back when Daisuke and the others were called.”

“Why not before that?” Agumon asks with a blink, and Taichi’s lips twist into a half-nostalgic, half-bitter smirk:

“It was different for us. We got pulled into the Digital World—that’s how we know about the tramway.”

“And why not meet at one of your houses?” Agumon continues, quite clearly hanging on to every word.

God, they really should have had this conversation a long time ago.

“Their parents didn’t know digimons existed,” Taichi says with an apologetic shrug, “I mean, my parents and Ms. Takashi knew about you guys, but they were the only ones, and they weren’t too happy about us having to save the world and all. We’d done this alone before—didn’t have a choice the first time around. That time, we just thought the time we’d have to lose trying to explain the situation, to convince Daisuke’s parents, and Iori’s mom, and all the others, that we weren’t crazy—it didn’t seem worth the risk of losing the Digiworld, or having our own parents find out. For the most part we barely even thought of getting the adults involved, though at some point we ended up not having a choice anymore.”

Taichi shrugs again, and puts a lot of effort into not looking away when Agumon nods the eerie silence of late winter falling over them like a thick coat of snow over a sleeping town. Taichi, still gripping Agumon’s shoulder, forces his fingers to relax one by one, and he’s surprised to find the gesture releases a tension in his stomach he was barely aware of, like untying a knot.

Agumon, deep in thought, doesn’t seem to realize what’s going on, so Taichi puts the quiet time to good use and breathes in deep through his nose, exhaling through his mouth and trying to picture the bad feelings—the nightmares, the loss, the sense of something irrevocably missing—exiting his body along with the thick puff of white smoke he blows out into the wind.

After a while, Agumon says:

“Some of the others won’t want to do this, will they?”

“Maybe not,” Taichi agrees, unable to figure out who’s more liable to refuse.

It’s not like they’ve talked about this enough among themselves for him to have a clear idea of what they think or feel on the topic.

“If they do say no,” Agumon continues, hesitating somewhere in the middle, “can the two of us still go? I’d like to see the places where we were together.”

It takes Taichi a few seconds to answer—take a deep breath first, bracing himself against the first, cowardly instinct telling him to say no and run for the hills before he can nod.

“Okay,” he says with a slight tremor in his voice, “let’s do that.”

{ooo}

‘I told Agumon we’d visit our old hangout spots in Odaiba,’ Taichi texts Yamato that night as he lays in bed, stomach too full to sleep.

Agumon, as always, seems entirely impervious to the very concept of over-eating, and he’s already snoring the night away in his hammock, the sound more soothing than it has any real right to be. Taichi tries to focus on it to keep his mind busy—or at least, keep the anxious thoughts at bay—and it works so well his heart skips a beat when his phone vibrates against his chest.

‘any particular reason?’

Taichi glances at his alarm clock and frowns: it’s past midnight here, which means it has to be class time back in Paris. He’s wondering what possessed Yamato to break his self-imposed ‘no texting back unless it’s life or death’ rule, when he remembers Yamato is right there in Japan, probably jet-lagged to hell and unable to sleep as a result.

The thought makes Taichi grin as he types:

‘He said we never did outings with the whole group in the human world. I figured it was time he heard the truth.’

‘Congratulations,’ comes Yamato’s reply, and Taichi muffles a snort in his hand before he asks:

‘What for?’

‘1. Ur the 1st to do it. 2. I know its not easy.’

Taichi snorts, and then sobers up as he admits:

‘I don’t want to do it. Feels like I’m going to lose him again.’

Yamato’s answer is longer in coming this time— Taichi has time to put the phone back down on his chest and stare at Agumon, silhouetted in the dim lights of the city as he shuffles in his hammock. It’s ridiculous, really—he’s right there, and he’s not about to vanish into thin air because he sees a place he doesn’t remember.

Taichi has been down this road before—making new memories, introducing Agumon to the city he grew up in—and it didn’t end very well for him.

‘I think we should all do it,’ Yamato’s next text reads when Taichi thumbs it open , ‘itd be better 4 all of us’

Taichi frowns at his phone and sighs. Yamato is probably right—at the very least, Taichi agrees with him on the most part—but it’s not like either of them can make the rest of the group join the train without upsetting them to frightening degrees. Taichi himself would gladly take his promise back if it didn’t mean hurting Agumon for no reason.

‘Im serious,’ Yamato texts again when Taichi waits too long before he answers, ‘its been 8yrs. Its time we quit making the other walking on eggshells bc they got lucky & we didnt.’

‘I know,’ Taichi answers him, blinking against the sudden brightness of his bedside lamp, breathing wet when he tries to brace himself for the second part of his message: ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.’

He lets the sob that’s been building in his throat slip past his lips, as quiet as he can manage, and clings to his phone until he feels it vibrate between his fingers again. Then he turns the light off—lowers the screen brightness to spare his eyes—and rolls on his side before he reads Yamato’s answer:

‘idk,’ it reads, ‘im not. Uve never backed down so far tho. Don’t think u will now’

Taichi smiles at that, throat tight around the things he’s been clinging to for the past eight years, and it takes him several tries before he manages to type:

‘Are you crying?’

‘shutup’

‘I’m crying.’

It’s not even an exaggeration, although Taichi kind of wishes it were. There’s no point in pretending the contrary though—ignoring the burning trails sliding along his c heeks, ove r his nose and into the pillow as he tries to stay quiet so he won’t wake his partner up won’t make anything disappear.

Outside in the living room, the entrance door clicks open and shut in rapid succession, and the next buzz of Taichi’s phone comes backed up by Daisuke’s voice hissing at Veemon to be quiet.

‘me too,’ Yamato admits.

Taichi smiles at that—wonders how much effort it took for Yamato to type the message, let alone actually hit send. At least it proves he’s not alone in this ridiculous, stupid boat. He still has his best friend by his side, like always—as it always should be, really—and that makes things a little less overwhelming.

‘Do you want to come along?’ He sends, almost without thinking, ‘I think I’m going to need a rehearsal if I want to stay dignified when we do this all together.’

‘of course. wouldnt want 2 damage ur image of fearless leader ;)’

‘You’re a butt.’

‘butt u like me,’ Yamato replies, dragging a snort out of Taichi—he muffles it into his pillow, cheeks aching with an abrupt grin, but Agumon still stirs in his sleep.

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ he tells Yamato ‘Agumon is going to wake up.’

‘sry. When do u wanna go?’

‘Ideally, tomorrow, but my schedule is full so....Tuesday?’

‘can’t thats when Papy wants to invite u guys. Ur dad already said yes.’

‘Fine,’ Taichi replies, shrugging as he types, ‘Wednesday then?’

‘ok’

‘Good. See you Tuesday then. Now go to sleep.’

‘yes mom’

Taichi takes a picture of him pulling his tongue out—between the excessive contrast, his puffy face, and the weird angle, it looks bad enough that Hikari would probably gasp in horror at the sight of it, but it makes Taichi laugh, so he sends it anyway.

He gets a little heart in response, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t make his stomach flutter a little.

{ooo}

Taichi emerges from his bedroom at ten past six the next day, bleary-eyed and wishing he could go back to sleep with every fiber of his being. There are classes to attend though, official business to pay attention to, and he’s so focused on not being late he almost doesn’t notice Daisuke, tying his shoelaces in front of the door.

“You’re late,” Taichi yawns, one hand scrapping at his scalp while the other covers his mouth, “you’re never late.”

“We stayed out late last night,” Daisuke says around a mouthful of what looks like an onigiri.

Taichi almost remarks midnight hasn’t been a very late hour since Daisuke started working in the food industry, but that would mean admitting he was awake at the time, too, and he doesn’t want to do that.

“Oh,” he says instead, “did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah, we were with—” Daisuke falters a little, swallows the last of his food with an audible gulp as he stares up at Taichi and finishes: “uh, a friend.”

“Good for you,” Taichi tells him with a smile.

He pads through the living room and into the kitchen then, navigating by smell more than sight until he’s more or less sticking his nose into the mug Agumon fixed for him and left on the table. The smell of dried leaves fill Taichi’s nostrils, bringing a gust of wakefulness into his brain, and he sighs. That’s a good way to start the day.

Taichi rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and he’s reaching for the rice cooker, hoping to make something appetizing out of the leftovers, when Daisuke clears his throat in the kitchen doorway. Taichi stares at him—at the way Veemon presses close to his knees, at his shoes, which he hasn’t bothered taking off before he walked back inside.

“I was with Akiko,” Daisuke says with a small, almost unnoticeable shift of his weight, “you know, the girl—”

“Yes,” Taichi agrees, aware he’s cutting Daisuke off but too eager to dispel the awkwardness to act otherwise, “I remember.”

“Oh. Good,” Daisuke says, “well, I was—we were with her, and it kinda—that was sort of a date?”

Taichi smiles at the news, pleased—and maybe a tiny bit relieved, too—that he doesn’t have to put any effort into it.

“I’m glad for you,” he says, and chuckles when Daisuke’s surprised blink turns into a frown.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Taichi promises, reminding himself it’s his fault Daisuke is acting skeptical now, “I gave you terrible advice last time—and not all of it came from a good place either.”

Both he and Daisuke color at the reminder, but honestly, Taichi should be the embarrassed one, here.

“This time, you’re making your decisions on your own, and I finally have the brains to be happy for you instead of an over possessive ass.”

“You kind of were,” Daisuke says with a rueful smile, “but I’m glad you’re happy.”

Veemon whoops, prompting Taichi and Agumon to laugh at him a little, and then Agumon all but chases their roommates out of the door before they get really late and start disappointing their g rowing crowds of re g ul ars. Taichi and Agumon settle at the table in silence, Taichi humming under his breath as he goes, and Agumon grins.

“You’re in a good mood again,” he says while he settles leftover chicken and a couple of eggs between their two bowls.

“I am,” Taichi agrees.

“Even though we’re going to visit Odaiba tomorrow?”

Taichi feels his smile falter as he looks at his partner. It’s not that the good mood has vanished, per se—but the topic at hand would put a damper on most conversations, he’s pretty sure. He takes a sip of his tea, mostly to give himself time before he has to speak—and says:

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it tomorrow. Yamato’s grandfather wants to have dinner with us,” he explains when Agumon’s features shift from caution to betrayed surprise, “we’re invited at Ms. Takashi’s place tomorrow night. Do you mind a lot if we do this Wednesday? I can shift my meetings around so I’ll be done earlier.”

“Oh,” Agumon says with obvious relief, “no, that’s okay! I’m sure dinner with Yamato’s family will be enough for one day.”

“That’s what I figured,” Taichi agrees with a nervous chuckle. He sips at his tea again before he asks: “and, uh...do you mind if Yamato and Gabumon come along? I’m not sure they will—I don’t know if Gabumon has agreed yet—but I’d like to have some support there while we do this, if you don’t mind?”

“Okay,” Agumon agrees, relief turning into a little smile, “I think I could use a friend there, too.”

Taichi nods, sort of wishing they could invite Tentomon along, if only for Agumon’s sake—they are, after all, closer than Agumon and Gabumon are—but if he’s being honest, this isn’t a moment he’s comfortable sharing with anyone other than Yamato. Not even Noeru.

{ooo}

Dinner at Ms. Takashi’s turns out to be about as awkward as Taichi anticipated—more so, even, when the picture albums got taken out of their shelves, and the rarefaction of Yamato’s face as the years went by was impossible to miss—and Taichi comes out of it kind of wishing he could just erase it from his memory.

There’s no real disaster to mourn for though—awkward silences and one moment where Taichi kind of thought Yamato would manage to pick up a fight with his mother right then and there about cooking, of all things—and Yamato’s chuckle when Taichi remarks as much is short, filled with nerves and things he probably thought but didn’t say.

“Yeah. Could have been worse,” he admits, running a hand in his hair, “remind me to send something nice to your sister—I think she single-handedly saved the day there.”

That, in Taichi’s opinion, was more of a collective effort—between Mr. Takashi, Takeru, and Taichi’s family, the whole thing managed to end on an awkward, but ultimately not really harmful note, which is probably the best they could have hoped for. Yamato won’t be the only one sending baskets around in the upcoming days, but he knows better than to say that.

“So,” he says instead of voicing the thought, forcing his tone to remain light and vaguely unconcerned, “do I have to come in or can I trust you not to fight with your father?”

“I don’t think he’s here,” Gabumon replies from where he’s unlocking the door already, “no need to be worried.”

“I don’t fight with him,” Yamato retorts with a playful shove at Gabumon’s head, “you can’t fight with someone you don’t talk to.”

Taichi shrugs, not quite acquiescence, not quite apology, and gives Yamato a playful punch in the shoulder.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Yamato sighs, tired fondness filling his smile, “thanks for sticking around for a bit.”

“No problem,” Taichi says without even needing to think about it, “see you tomorrow?”

“Four PM,” Yamato replies with a nod, “we’ll be there.”

{ooo}

When they reach the newly renamed DigiCafe on Wednesday, mist clings at the edge of the windows, almost masking the digimon-friendly announcements—‘We provide adapted seats!’ one of the signs proclaims, while another shows a cartoonish Biyomon swirling in a specially-made Kimono Taichi recognizes as Sora’s design, and announces the existence of a fashion corner somewhere at the back of the cafe. Taichi smiles into his thick scarf at the sight.

“I knew she had a partnership with a coffee shop,” he remarks to Agumon, who stands shivering beside him, “but I didn’t know she meant this one.”

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” Agumon asks, and Taichi shrugs.

It doesn’t really matter whether Sora chose this specific shop for their history with it, after all, so long as her work gets the success it deserves. Agumon doesn’t seem too bothered by Taichi’s lack of curiosity, though, as he turns back to the window and stick his nose to it, trying to see what’s going on inside. Taichi rolls his eyes at him with a little chuckle, glances at his watch—almost five past four already—and grins when he finally spots Yamato and Gabumon walking up the street.

“Finally!” He calls out, purposefully exaggerating the impatience in his voice, “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get there!”

“It’s barely been five minutes,” Yamato protests while Gabumon, after a perfunctory greeting for Taichi, goes to look through the windows alongside Agumon, “calm down.”

“You’re right,” Taichi agrees with mock solemnity, “by your standards you’re positively early.”

Yamato grimaces, shoving at Taichi’s shoulder without malice, and Taichi snorts a little before he suggests they step inside.

“I don’t know how you can stand the weather dressed like this,” he says, gesturing at Yamato’s open jacket over a thin woolen jumper, “but some of us are non-furred reptiles.”

“It’s below zero in Paris these days,” Yamato shrugs as he nods and holds the door open for the others to step through, “makes six degrees feel toasty.”

Inside, the shop is peppered with pink and red hearts in preparation for Valentine’s day, and Taichi pauses on the welcome mat to take it all in. The walls have changed colors, and the counter was replaced at some point in the past eight years, but the tables are the same, and the large booth they used to sit in is still there at the back, framed by digimon-oriented fashion instead of potted plants. A couple of customers come in behind them, shuffling around their little group to find tables to sit at and casting curious glances at them.

“Am I the only one who feels like we’re making a bit of a scene?” Yamato asks, and Taichi shrugs.

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less. We’ve earned it.”

Yamato snorts at that, but he knocks their shoulders together, and Taichi smiles. They have earned this moment. They’ve spent so many hours there, as children and as teenagers—emergency meeting, worried and tense, where the digimon had to pretend to be plush toys between two sentences, but more simple times too. How many times did they gather here here to talk about the things they’d seen, the things they’d done, the things they couldn’t tell anyone else about?

Mimi cried her heart out here, on the verge of moving to America, knowing she’d have to miss everyone else on top of Palmon. Takeru banged his fist against the wood when they tried to tell him his obsession with angels had gone too far. They’ve all cried and laughed and argued here, so much of their lives left between the walls they all knew the staff by heart by the time they had to go through with the Reboot.

They’d planned on taking Meiko here, too—not just the crisis meetings she’d seen since entering the group, but a proper group outing. They’d been tossing ideas around for ways to bring her more fully into their little family—simple, gentle pranks they could play on her to mark her arrival properly...but of course, those never came to pass .

The Reboot happened. Mimi left for the U.S. again. Yamato got accepted in the exchange program for Moscow. Sora started thinking about Kyoto for her superior studies. Before they knew it—before anyone had time to blink—they scattered around Tokyo—around the world—and forgot about their plans for Meiko’s welcome, too caught up in a grief she understood but didn’t quite share.

“I think it’s time we sat down,” Yamato says after a long silence—Taichi jumps a little, but he nods anyway

He ignores the new, pastel-green paint on the walls, glances at the chocolate- colored couches without seeing them, and breathes through the longing in his chest when they sit down together, the whole scene missing at least twelve protagonists to be considered complete. The coat stand that spared their group countless questions and awkward moment is still there—the chip in one of the tables, too, under its fresh coat of brown paint—and the waitress who walks up to their table looks painfully familiar, even though Taichi can’t seem to remember her name.

He orders whatever Yamato is having, brain too full with statics to pay any kind of attention to something as trivial as a drink, and blinks a couple of time to try and clear his head. It doesn’t work.

“They changed it,” Yamato remarks—Taichi blinks in confusion, until he realizes his friend is talking about the coat stand.

The bottom of it, more specifically, is brand new—the owners must have gotten the same model then. Taichi smiles—chuckles, even, and says:

“You can hardly blame them.”

“Why’s that?” Gabumon asks, abandoning what seemed to be a rather thorough observation of the street outside the window, “what happened?”

“Tokomon chewed through it once,” Yamato replies with a little smile—on Taichi’s left, Agumon laughs at the thought, and Taichi rolls his eyes.

“Laugh all you want,” he tells his partner, “one time I had to pull you off a hat because you though the fruits on it were real.”

This time it’s Gabumon who snorts, muffling the sound behind his hand while Agumon reddens, expression more sheepish than the situation really requires. They have, after all, had moments here that were far more delicate than that. At least with the coat rack, all they had to do was act surprised and ask if anyone had come in with a dog.

Agumon laughs when Taichi tells him as much and, before long, he and Gabumon start asking questions one after the other, so fast it’s like they’re afraid they won’t have time for them all—which, is Taichi is being honest, is partially his and Yamato’s fault for being so tight lipped. There’s no resentment in their attitude though, no re strained anger that Taichi can sense, and that, more than anything else, soothes his nerves. He speaks more freely after that—slips into the enthusiasm of the moment, recalling one story after the other, laughing at the anecdotes he hasn’t heard yet and, for the first time in nearly nine years, smiles when he thinks of the things that happened before.

In many ways, it’s a bit like going back to the Digital World and visiting the places he used to know—like taking Agumon home after the Reboot happened and they learned how to be friends again: same as it was before, except for the parts where it’s not. It doesn’t hurt as much this time around.

“Shit,” Yamato exclaims later on, while Taichi is in the middle of telling their partners about their first meeting with Frigimon, and how he couldn’t feel his butts for hours afterwards, “I think they’re closing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Taichi replies with a roll of his eyes, “they’re open until seven.”

Yamato’s wrist all but knocks him in the nose as he shoves his watch under Taichi’s nose, and Taichi can’t help but pull a surprised grimace when he sees the time. So, maybe he got a little lost in the moment there, because he really didn’t notice it was so late.

Then again, who could blame him? He hasn’t been in the same room as Yamato in ages—excepting Ms. Takashi’s dinner, that is, but that was nowhere near as comfortable as this afternoon has been—hasn’t talked about all these things in years, and he’d almost forgotten how fun it can be to spend time with his best friend.

He muses about this as they pay for their teas and bicker about who should pay the bill, since Yamato ended up drinking both cups of teas—‘next time just pay attention to what you’re ordering, dummy.’ ‘why do I even put up with you?’—and while they get dressed to face the cold. They’re about to says goodbye when Taichi blurts:

“Wanna go get dinner?”

Agumon whoops in assent, and Gabumon approves with a large smile—at that point, Taichi knows, Yamato doesn’t really have a choice anymore, but he doesn’t look bothered in the least when he agrees. Taichi might grin a little too hard at that, but hey, this is Yamato. If he can’t be a bit a of a weirdo with his best friend, he’ll never manage it, will he?

“Can we got to that ramen place Veemon keeps talking about?” Agumon asks with a hopeful look, “it sounds delicious, and I’ve always wanted to go but—”

“Only if they do takeaway,” Yamato warns with a sigh, scratching at Gabumon’s head, “I think I’ve had enough emotions for today.”

“Yeah,” Taichi agrees, “plus it’d make things awkward if they remembered your date with Jun.”

“You went on a date with Jun?” Agumon asks, the volume of his voice raisin with his surprise, “really?”

“As in, Daisuke’s sister?”

“That was before I knew I was gay,” Yamato replies with a long glare at Taichi, “and she forced my hand!”

“Yeah, she was kind of weird back then,” Taichi agrees, smile turning a little uneasy at the memory.

He laughed at it in the moment, but looking back, if he’d been the one actively pursued by a girl three years older than him at fourteen, he probably wouldn’t have liked it either.

“She grew out of it,” Yamato shrugs, “but there’s a reason we’re still not close.”

Taichi chuckles again and knocks their shoulders together as they make their way down the street—he’s surprised to feel something grab his leg a minute later, and even more so when he realize Agumon grabbed a hold of both his and Yamato’s knees, hugging them to his chest in a way that forces them to lean on each other to avoid an awkward fall.

“Thank you for doing this!” he exclaims, Gabumon fishing a smartphone from inside his fur so he can snap a picture, “It’s just like old times!”

“I don’t think we ever went for tea together though,” Yamato points out, patting awkwardly at Agumon’s head, “when we went out it was mostly as a group.”

“Yeah,” Taichi agrees, squeezing at Gabumon’s shoulder just to make sure he doesn’t feel left out, “we used to hang out at the soccer field or in Yamato’s band’s practice room, most of the time. Or at home.”

“Oh, great!” Gabumon exclaims with undisguised delight, “that means this is both old and new, right? The same, but different.”

Agumon takes a shine to the idea before Yamato is even done nodding, and the two digimons end up chattering about it all the way to the restaurant, Taichi and Yamato looking at them like they’re proud parents realizing their children are all grown up. It may not be the best metaphor, considering the fact that they’re supposed to have an equal partnership with their digimons, but the sense of affectionate pride inherent to the idea is definitely something Taichi feels right now, and he can’t help but look over at Yamato, just to know if he’s grinning like an idiot, too.

(He definitely is.)

“So,” Taichi says after they’ve exchanged gently-mocking grimaces and red-faced grins, “that was actually pretty nice.”

They’re nearing the restaurant now, the smell of noodle soup strong enough that Agumon has his nose in the air already, and Taichi slows down a little, unwilling to let the evening end just now. Yamato, matching his pace, chews on his bottom lip—Taichi sees his jaw working from the corner of his eyes—before he asks:

“Wanna come have dinner with us? My place is closer than yours.”

Taichi agrees with a large smile—he’s not sure how obvious his relief is when Agumon doesn’t seem opposed to the idea—and decides to enjoy the way his stomach contracts when Yamato all but beams in response.

(He’s pretty sure no one else in the world realizes how much Yamato can smile, given the proper circumstances, and the thought doesn’t do anything to settle his heartbeat.)

{ooo}

“Okay,” Taichi yawns when he realizes Mr. Ishida’s clock reads eleven, “I know I’ve said this before, but I really have to go now.”

Agumon perks up at this, and starts gathering the takeaway boxes before Yamato can actually say anything—Taichi watches his friend’s nose wrinkle a little bit in embarrassment, same as it has for as long as Taichi can remember, and they sigh with almost comical synchronization. Neither of them moves until Agumon comes back from his first trip to the trash can though, steps carefully quiet so he doesn’t wake up Gabumon, who went to sleep almost an hour ago now.

Soon enough, there’s nothing left for Taichi to do but gather his things, wrap himself into his coat again, and let Yamato hold the door for him as he exits the flat. He steps out on the landing, presses the call button for the elevator with Agumon leaning against his knee—from the look of it, he’s almost ready to fall asleep where he stands, and regret prickles at Taichi’s gut at the thought.

Then he realizes Yamato followed him outside, and he chuckles:

“Are you going to walk me home? Because we might be starting an infinite loop here.”

“I’m just being polite, dum dum,” Yamato deadpans with a roll of his eyes, but Taichi decides not to take the hint:

“Right,” he teases, “just admit you can’t get enough of me. It’s embarrassing for you but I’ll be nice about it, promise.”

“Yeah,” Yamato replies with a small eye-roll, “I don’t want tonight to end, so I’m delaying as much as I can.”

Taichi’s stomach does a little flip at that, and for a second there he almost calls the whole thing off—almost asks if he can stay the night and roll a mattress out for Agumon. The elevator door pings open at that moment though, sta rtli ng him a little, and when Agumon steps into the cabin on autopilot, Taichi gestures at it with a little wave:

“My ride’s here,” he says, awkwardness heating his cheeks up the longer he stays, “so I’ll just—”

“’Course,” Yamato replies with a nod, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Goodnight.”

Taichi waves goodbye in turn, maintaining eye-contact until the doors close between Yamato and him, and then he sighs, vague disappointment niggling at his stomach before he even manages to process it.

“That was a good evening,” Agumon mumbles at him—he’s resting his cheek on Taichi’s knee again, so the words come a bit slurred when he adds: “’m glad it’s over though. ‘M tired.”

“Yeah,” Taichi admits with a smile, “it’s late.”

Today was an excellent day as it is—no need to focus on the things he couldn’t have.

Taichi and Agumon wait in companionable silence until their reach the ground floor and the doors let out a little ping before they open. Taichi readjusts his scarf, steps out of the elevator cabin, and he’s just about to push the hallway door open when the sound of naked feet clatters down the staircase.

Turning around, Taichi is surprised to find Yamato there—red-faced and maybe a little embarrassed as he jogs through the hallway at a more sedated pace to stand in front of Taichi. Beside him, Agumon makes a sleepy noise of protest, but Taichi is too busy trying not to smile like a gigantic idiot to pay attention to that—he does make a mental note to do something nice for his partner later, but he’d be lying if he said his consideration went any further than that.

“So,” Yamato pants, wiping sweat off his forehead, “I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t want the evening to end.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Taichi answers.

He pauses, swallows in a futile attempt to settle his stomach—his heart, the delightful shiver in his fingers—as he tries to sort his words out but Yamato, as has often been the case, beats him to it:

“Also,” he says, redder than before, shoulders stiff like he’s bracing himself for something unpleasant, “I kind of—I really wanted to kiss you up there.”

Taichi has heard about face-splitting grins before—thought he’d sported some himself, once or twice—but right now he’s pretty sure he’s never smiled this hard in his life. He’s pretty sure he looks manic—he definitely looks like a manic idiot.

He couldn’t care less about it.

“That’s good,” he says, turning a little breathless when the fluttering in his chest solidifies into something easier to identify, “’cause I wanted you to.”

Then, because Yamato looks a little too surprised—relieved, delighted—to do anything about it, and because Taichi is supposed to have the crest of courage, dammit, he stands up on his toes, laces a hand behind Yamato’s neck, and brings their mouths together.

There’s a blank in his head at first, as his brain fills with a thousand variations of ‘nice’, with maybe a little bit of ‘finally’ thrown in for good measure, even though he hasn’t been aware he was waiting for this until a few minutes ago. Then his brain adjusts a little and his senses come back, one by one—he registers the tingling of his mouth, almost unbearable where Yamato’s lips barely touch his, the way Yamato’s hair tingles against his fingers wher e it s lips out of a loose topknot...and then Yamato’s hands, slipping from his waist to his back, strong arms pulling him into a hug and lifting him off the ground when Yamato straightens to his full height.

It takes them a while to pull away from one another—first there’s a graze of teeth on lips, then tongues, then sighs—but eventually Yamato’s arms kind of give out, and Taichi falls back to the ground with a little thump and a gigantic, probably very ridiculous grin on his face.

“So,” he manages after a few seconds of stunned silence where he and Yamato kind of just...stare at each other, like they haven’t seen each other’s face a thousand times, “I vote we go back upstairs and put your couch to good use.”

Yamato stiffens at the words, and for the most horrifying second of the past eight years, Taichi thinks he’s said exactly the wrong thing and ruined everything.

“Okay,” Yamato says when he notices Taichi’s frown, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t talking about sex, but on the off chance that you were—”

“What? Oh, no!” Taichi promises, fear slipping out of him in a bout of laughter, “no, definitely not. I mean, it’s definitely something I’ll think about in the future—” Yamato rolls his eyes at that, and Taichi swats him on the arm, pleased to notice they haven’t broken their embrace, even with the abrupt change of topic, “but for tonight I really just want to make out. A lot.”

“And you couldn’t say that before we left?”

Taichi and Yamato both jump at the words, and Yamato bursts in nervous laughter, hiding his face behind his hands while Agumon looks up at the ceiling like he’s going to find some patience just hanging there, ripe for the taking. Taichi wishes he could stop laughing, if only for Agumon’s sake, but he’s too giddy for it, so he picks up the digimon in his arms instead, and promises him a comfortable bed as soon as they get back upstairs.

He’s spent many a comfortable night on Yamato’s spare mattress, after all, and he’s got a feeling he won’t be using it tonight.

{ooo}

“Sorry about the back and forth,” Taichi tells Agumon while they wait for Yamato to pull the futon out, “I promise I didn’t plan for this.”

“I hope not,” Agumon grumbles, sleep already laced through his voice.

He keeps the annoyed facade for all of thirty seconds, before he asks:

“Does that mean you and Yamato are dating now?”

“No,” Taichi replies without hesitation, “it just means we wanna make out, and we will.”

“Same as before, but different?” Agumon asks, and Taichi nods.

“Yeah, basically.”

Agumon gives Taichi a very serious look then—it’s a little hard not to chuckle with nerves, but Taichi manages fairly well, until Agumon says:

“Humans are weird.”

Taichi watches his partner glare at Yamato when the declaration makes him laugh, then cross his arms together and say:

“You’re lucky you make him happy.”

Taichi barely manages to restrain his laughter long enough for Agumon to step into Yamato’s bedroom with a haughty air and click the door shut behind him.

“Okay,” Taichi huffs once he and Yamato get their breathing back, “I have no idea where that came from.”

“Oh, really?” Yamato snorts, “Because I remember you telling Takeru something along those lines when he and Hikari told you about their relationship.”

Taichi has no memory of that, but it sounds far too plausible for him to dare protesting, anyway.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he promises instead, “just because I behaved like a stupid butt doesn’t mean he should do the same.”

“Don’t bother,” Yamato replies with a smile and an easy shrug as he walks back to the couch, “I’m glad there’s someone else out there to protect you.”

Taichi swallows a smile and a nervous chuckle, forcing his face into the closest approximation of calm indignation he can manage. It doesn’t work, of course—the grin pressing at his lips is too strong to stay off for long, for once, and even without that, Yamato probably knows him well enough to call his bluff anyway. No point in persevering.

Still smiling, Taichi scoots closer to Yamato, angling his legs so their knees are touching, and gives Yamato a playful nudge.

“So,” he says without managing to keep the goof out of his voice, “about this kissing thing—”

“At the risk of ruining the mood,” Yamato cuts in, grimacing an apology around the words, “I have to ask: why did you tell Agumon we weren’t dating?”

His neck turns red as he speaks, and Taichi blinks at the sight for a second before he realizes what’s going on, and grabs Yamato’s hand.

“It’s not because this is a one time thing!” he promises, pressing Yamato’s fingers between his, “I don’t want it to be a one time thing—I want it to be a many, many times thing. All the time thing, if possible.”

Yamato snorts, posture relaxing at Taichi’s silliness, and Taichi smiles with relief as he continues:

“It’s just—I know you’ve got issues about the whole...letting people know thing. About dating. And, I’m not gonna lie, I’d love to share the joy with everyone else, but I also want you to no freak out, a lot more than I want other people to know what’s going on in my life. So, unless you’re ready—really ready, don’t say yes because you think that’s what I want to hear—to put it all out in the open, I’d rather keep this between us. It’s not like the others really need to know anyway.”

Yamato snorts and rolls his eyes, but moisture clings at his eyelashes when his thumb brushes against Taichi’s, fond smile seemingly settled there for a long while to come.

“Same old, same old, then?” He asks, gentle sarcasm struggling to come through his grin.

“Except there’s gonna be kissing,” Taichi points out, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, “lots of it, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You sound like a horny teenager,” Yamato says with a roll of his eyes.

He does lean in for a kiss, though.

{ooo}

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Taichi whispers several hours later, when they’ve changed into something closer to pajamas and slipped into Yamato’s bed.

He stares at the back of Yamato’s head as he speaks—the blond of his hair turned almost silver by the strips of moonlight filtering int—and he’s half expecting something like ‘you mean another one?’ come out. Instead, Yamato keeps his back to Taichi to yawn into his pillow:

“I was never interested in Daisuke.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” Taichi says.

He watches Yamato’s shirt shift when he snorts:

“Liar.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to ask that first,” Taichi amends with a fond grin, “I’m just wondering—how long have you been wanting to do this?”

Taichi hears Yamato take a deep breath before he wriggles around and brings then face to face, the darkness swallowing his features until only the glint of his eyes remain.

“Wanna know the truth?”

“Nothing less from you,” Taichi says, copying Yamato’s serious tone and reaching up to fit their hands together, “you know that.”

“I’ve been thinking about it on and off since I figured out I was gay.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?”

Agumon stirs and shifts in his sleep at the words, but in Taichi’s defense he did just discover he and Yamato could have been making out—and more—for years now. Given how pleasant the whole experience has been so far, he’s pretty sure he can be excused for his belated offense. Somewhat.

“Well, obviously I wasn’t ready,” Yamato replies with a shrug.

Taichi nods—he did more or less witness the whole process, after all.

“But also—we lived on different continents, we had different goals...I mean, I’m working toward a job that’ll take me off planet for months—”

“That’s a really stupid reason for not saying anything,” Taichi points out, and gets a swat on the shoulder for his trouble.

“I never said it was smart,” Yamato replies, sounding very much like he’s rolling his eyes, “’sides, those weren’t my only reasons. I didn’t want to risk freaking out and ruining our friendship—”

“You know it’d take a lot more than that, right?” Taichi asks, finding Yamato’s free hand with his own, “Unless you somehow, I don’t know, hurt or kill Hikari, you’re stuck with me forever.”

“That’s what I figured out, eventually,” Yamato replies with a chuckle—he surprises Taichi by bringing their linked hands to his chest before he continues: “you got sick around that time though, and I figured—depression makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. You get better eventually, and when you think back on it you look at some of your decisions and think ‘what the fuck was I even thinking back then’, you know?”

“Like when you....”

Taichi lets his voice trail off, unsure what words to use, and tugs at Yamato’s wrists instead.

“Yeah, like that,” Yamato admits, head shifting as he lowers his gaze. “Or like when you tried matchmaking.”

“Urgh,” Taichi grunts with a disgusted grimace, “too soon.”

Yamato laughs at that, muffled and quiet to let their digimons sleep, but he wriggles closer in the same movement, and he plants a light kiss on Taichi’s knuckles, which may or may not short-circuit his brain for a second.

“I just didn’t want you to look back on this—on us—and wonder what went through your head when we started.”

There’s a brief silence, which Taichi doesn’t quite know how to break, before Yamato adds:

“I mean, maybe we’ll still end up fighting and not wanting to talk to each other ever again someday, there’s no way to know—but at least now I’m reasonably sure it’ll be us fighting, not me and your sick brain.”

Taichi considers being a little offended by that—he must have learned some form of lesson from the past few months, though, because he nods instead. It’s not like he hasn’t let his sick brain get the better of him yet.

{ooo}

On Thursday, Taichi wakes up at half past eleven with his face pressed into Yamato’ s green pillow, a nd not even a trace of self-consciousness appears when he breathes the smell of it in. He’s slept in this room dozens of times, has had all the occasions in the world to memorize the way it smells in the morning—but, like depression, going from best friends to best-friends-who-kiss must rewrite brain chemistry because Taichi could swear it was never as pleasant as it is now.

He grins a little at the though, and takes the time to stretch each of his limbs into wakefulness before he even attempts to sit. He’s already missed all his classes for today anyway, and he rescheduled his therapy appointme nt just in case their trip through memory lane left him too depressed to function...he might as well enjoy the change of plans.

Taichi leaves the room with a quick cursory glance— Agumon is still snoring the morning away, but the others are gone—and makes his way to the kitchen. He finds Gabumon there, shaping rice into onigiri while Yamato fiddl e s with the electric kettle and a box of tea leaves. Taichi takes a mome nt to appreciate the way Yamato’s clean pair of jeans hug his butt before h e leans against the threshold, crossing his legs just in case wearing only boxer shorts prove to be an advantage.

“Hey, science side of the room,” he yawns, “can you explain why your sweat-soaked pillow suddenly started smelling good this morning?”

“It’s because you’re a gross-ass sap,” Yamato tosses over his shoulder.

Taichi snorts at that and, since Yamato’s refusal to turn around makes his posing useless, he goes to sit at the table and help Gabum on out with t he onigiri. He’s not surprised when Gabumon levels him with a long, speculative look—Yamato may be the most secretive person ever created, even he has his limits—before he says:

“I’m glad you guys are happy.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re kissing friend now,” Agumon yawns as he waddles into the room, nostrils shivering toward the counter, “humans like kisses.”

“Kisses are nice,” Gabumon agrees with a little shrug as he goes back to his work, “sometimes Yamato kisses me when we have different schedules. I like it.”

“Really?” Taichi asks, glancing up at where Yamato is trying very hard to set up the teacups in a casual way, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not the same kind of kissing,” Yamato says as he turns back to the counter, “and you know it.”

“No, no, please,” Taichi insists with a little wave at Gabumon, halfway to laughter already, “tell me more, Gabumon. Does Takeru kiss you too or is it just Yamato?”

“You’re an ass, Taichi,” Yamato protests, without heat, and Gabumon blinks between them in obvious confusion.

“Well, like Yamato said,” he starts, darting a glance to Agumon, who shrugs in the corner of Taichi’s vision, “it’s different—Takeru doesn’t do it because he lives here and Yamato uses a French kiss—”

Taichi bursts out laughing seconds before his lips touch his teacup, smearing hot tea all over his fingers and the table—he’d feel a little guiltier about it if Yamato hadn’t slapped both his hands over his mouth, neck cherry red where he’s bent at the waist, shoulders shaking. Taichi, bent in half over the table, laughs so hard he almost chokes on his own spit, tears streaming down his cheeks even as Gabumon says:

“I’ve said something weird, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay,” Yamato replies, voice still thick with laughter, “Taichi can explain.”

“What?” Taichi protests, sobering up in record time, “why me?”

“’Cause that’s what I’d have said if we’d had this conversation yesterday,” Yamato smirks.

It’s not wrong, but Taichi still pouts about it until Yamato bends down for a proper morning kiss.