Disclaimer/Note : I do not own Digimon, or the characters used in this story. They belong to the series' creator, whom I also do not own. I am not making any money off of this story. Do not sue me. All original concepts in this story are original (duh), and belong to me. If you steal them, I will kill you. A lot. This story takes place sometime before the series takes off, and contains fluff. Lots of fluff. This story was written for BlackJack Gabbiani at SakuraCon 2007. I hope you enjoy it, in all of its un-beta'd goodness.

I Can't

"But. . .what if we can't?"

It was the first question that his pale friend had posed all afternoon, thin hands clutching the chains of the swing set he was currently sitting on. He kicked his legs slowly, momentum moving him ever so slightly back and forth on the playground. His heavy-lidded eyes stared forward absently, past his black shoes and the bark chips beneath them. But his friend had been like that for a long time; a soft-spoken young man with a beautiful smile beneath his woeful expression and strange gaze.

"What do you mean?" Hiroki countered quickly, head jerking to one side. "Yukio, this is what we're supposed to do. It's what we were born to do."

Yukio's chin dropped to touch his collarbone, dark brows narrowing in thought. Hiroki had always been the more positive of the two, a fail-safe grin and 'never-say-die' attitude that arose whenever he tried to push a new idea off on his significantly better grounded companion. Such was the case now, and Yukio truly believed that it was his duty to instill a splash of reality into Hiroki's crazy schemes.

"I can feel the pull of the Digital World just as well as you can," he began cautiously, licking his lips as he carefully phrased his next sentence. "But neither one of us is a computer genius. You have trouble understanding basic binary, remember?"

"Then teach me," Hiroki's hand snapped out suddenly, forcing Yukio to release the chain. The smaller boy faltered under the contact, his breath hitching. Hiroki pulled the swing set closer to him, Yukio's knees brushing his inner thigh.

But nothing else happened.

"Teach me, Yukio," Hiroki repeated, leaning in to emphasize his enthusiasm. Yukio's hidden smile crept up to his features without warning. His friend had no idea how he felt, like Hiroki was his only reason to be alive, to breathe and smile. Was it so strange, then, that he wanted to be with his best friend – his only friend – forever? In every way?

"I've been trying to teach you for years."

Hiroki let go, hands coming together as he played with his wedding band. Yukio tried not to notice, tried to keep his mind off of his one-true love's charming wife and tiny son. He had met the former at the ceremony, where he had played the role of best man. The son he had only seen pictures of, though.

"I won't ever give up, Oikawa. I can't just let it go," he said after a moment, preparing to leave. The use of his last name had felt like a slap, had left a deep and stinging wound. Yukio stared at Hiroki's back, a mixture of fear and confusion brewing within him. "And you shouldn't either."

". . .Please don't leave me."

And there it was, that perfect smile over one shoulder, bright eyes scrunched closed.

"Don't worry. . .I. . .I can't leave you. Not ever."