Typical "I don't own these characters" clause here. Enjoy this sadcanon. Please leave comments, because I like validation. No other reason, really.

Daisuke rolled over, subconsciously noticing the cold, empty space next to him. Slowly, his eyes opened, blinking several times as his hand probed the spot where his partner usually laid. Sitting up, he looked around the room, the yellow hue of the streetlamp outside cast a long cylinder of color across the bedroom. It was sparsely decorated—containing only the bed, a bed stand, dresser, and closet door. They didn't need much else, and what they did have was packed away.

A blue glow radiated from the crack in the door, drawing Daisuke to the end of the bed. His legs hung off the edge, his fingers squeezing the plush of the mattress before finally letting his feet touch the cool floor. He stared at the door for a few minutes, his eyes adjusting to the lowlight of the apartment, anxious of what the rest of the household had for him. Carefully, he stood up and slunk to the doorway, the door opening with a slight creaking protest.

The rest of the apartment was dark. Above the sink was a window that pointed away from the street, allowing the combination kitchen and dining room to be flooded with a blue hue from the waning moon. Daisuke tilted his head from side to side before finally noting the hunched figure at the dining table. Padding over with bare feet, he rested his hands on the man's shoulders and pressed his lips to the top of soft, dark hair. "Come back to bed, Ichijouji."

Ken's shoulders tensed up, his hands curling up on the table surface before an audible sigh escaped his nose. His only answer was a headshake. Daisuke pressed his thumbs into Ken's shoulder blades, rubbing small, coaxing circles on his partner's shoulders. Finally, Ken spoke.

"Stop."

Daisuke's hands recoiled as he took a step back, feeling as if he had been sucker punched in the gut. "Ken?" He took a seat at the table's only other chair. Even in the dull light, he could see that Ken wasn't looking at him—that he was focused solely on the wood grains of the table than on the face of the man he intended to move to a new continent with.

"Daisuke…" Ken trailed. The apartment was quiet besides the soft snoring of Chibimon from the living room. "I…"

"Talk to me." Daisuke placed a hand on Ken's, the latter retracting from the touch. Ken folded into himself, one hand holding his shoulder while the other held an elbow. Daisuke frowned.

"I can't."

"You can't what?"

Ken dug his fingernails into his shoulder so hard that it stung his skin. "I can't go."

"What do you mean?" Daisuke's tone was flat.

"I just… Can't. Go to America. I can't."

Daisuke's first reaction was anger. It swelled in his belly like an angry dragon, erupting from his throat with controlled heat. "Yes. You can. We've had the plane tickets for months. Most of our stuff is already boxed! This is happening!"

The chosen of kindness retracted more, his face now covered by his hair. "No."

"Ken! We talked about this for years! You… You can't!"

"I can. And I'm not." Ken's words started to catch in his throat. He was trying to be firm, to be strict with his intentions, but he was already starting to fail.

"But." Daisuke's breathing heaved as he gripped the end of the table with one hand, finding his gaze to the window instead of at his boyfriend. "Why?"

Ken unhinged from himself and drew his arms out on the table. He picked at his fingernails even though there was no dirt to clean. "I just can't. I don't have that same dream. I want to be here with my family and our friends. You know… I don't have that same sense of adventure you do."

"Why?" Daisuke was still confused and hurt and mad. He tried to keep his voice down as he continued to interrogate. "Why didn't you say anything sooner? Why now?"

"I love you, Dai." Ken started.

"I love you too!" Daisuke turned to look at Ken, eagerly hoping that somehow those four words would change the discussion around.

"... So, I wanted to be there for you. I really thought I wanted this. I convinced myself that I did. But I don't. I can't keep lying to myself. I don't want to make it miserable for you. I don't… Want to be a burden. Not again." Ken let out a sigh, relieved to get his true feelings out, but sad by its content.

"We… What…" He bit his lip, the heat in his belly being replaced by an icy rock. "What does it mean… For us?"

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable silence. Daisuke squeezed the end of the table, his brow furrowing with every flex. It had been his greatest fear—that something like this would happen someday.

"You know what it means, Dai."

"No. No. You don't get… You don't get to call me that." Daisuke spat.

"Motomiya-kun..."

Ken hadn't called him that in years—not since they were kids—far before they shared their bodies and lives with each other. Daisuke's chest expanded with air, his eyes blurring with tears, his mouth up turning into a frown, the creases on his cheeks made more pronounced by the dark hair of his goatee. He gripped the table so hard his knuckles went white, his other hand coming up to hide his face as large tears trailed down his cheeks.

"I love you." Ken repeated. "I always will. You will always be my best friend. But I can't follow you." There were tears welling in his eyes as his voice threatened to wobble into uncertainty. He too feared for this day—the day where he would have to tell the truth, where he would hold Daisuke's heart in his hands and watch it break before his eyes. He had prolonged his feelings in hopes that he would change, that maybe if things continued to solidify around him, he'd emerge with a new understanding. But that didn't happen. "I can't follow you…" He repeated, his voice trailing off into a pathetic whimper.

It had made sense now, Daisuke supposed, his shoulders jerking with silent sobs. Ken had been distant for the past few months. He had avoided romantic advances or lacked any enthusiasm of the plans for their new apartment in New York. It made sense now that Daisuke was the one that put the tape and labels on the boxes, bringing the finality to their move instead of Ken.

Between the silent sobs were audible ones, and Daisuke brought his feet up to the chair, wrapping his arms around his knees and buried his face in his thighs. "I don't think I can do this without you," he said between hiccups. "I can't. I don't want to lose you."

"You aren't losing me. You'll be fine. I know it, and you know it. You still have my support." Ken finally looked at his friend, but was not greeted with those dark chocolate eyes he had always loved.

Daisuke sat and thought. Memories circled through his mind. Feelings flashed against his heart. Was he not good enough? Was that it? Did he do something wrong? How could he not have noticed this sooner? Did that make him a bad partner? He should have been more aware of Ken's needs. He shouldn't have been so selfish. He didn't have to go, right? Would that make Ken love him again? If he gave up everything would it make everything better?

"I don't have to go. I mean, I'll lose a lot of money, but money is money and I can get it back. I don't have to go, I don't even—" Daisuke cut himself off in his own crying—his sobs could have easily been mistaken for laughter if not for the situation.

"Motomiya." Ken wanted to reach out, but knew if he did he'd find himself saying much the same things as Daisuke. He knew that wasn't a healthy solution. "You have to go. If you stay here, you'll resent me. If you go, you may forgive me. I know how much this means to you."

"Not as much as you mean to me! Fuck! It's like you never understand that, Ken!" Daisuke lifted his head and glared at his partner. Snot and tears drained down his face, revealing how perfectly Ken had broken him. "I'd give up everything! I'll do anything!"

"Stop." Ken pat his hand on the table with a soft slap. "Stop. Think for a second about what you're saying."

"I am!"

"No, you aren't. You have Tatum and Wallace and Mimi out there… Not to mention the slew of other friends you have. You're a survivor. It's easy for you to make friends. I'm not like that. I'd be alone. You can… Only give me so much."

Daisuke sniffed in and dragged his palms across his eyes to dry his cheeks. He continued to take the time to clean his face as he thought about Ken's words. So he had been a bad partner. He had let his own selfishness control his life—his dreams to consume his relationship into a pit of fear and discomfort. Ken had just always been so supportive, so positive about it for so long, that he didn't really stop to think how he may have really felt. Stupid. Stupid stupid. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Ken shook his head, another wave of tears threatening to breach as he did. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's just who we are."

Placing an elbow on the table, Daisuke cradled his chin as he looked out the window again. "I guess. I wish it wasn't like this."

"I know. Me either."

Daisuke's lips curled into a frown as he sniffed back more tears, shaking his head in hopes of warding off the sorrow. "The idea of hurting you and making you unhappy is just… Unbearable. If you're saying that moving would do that… Fuck… Shit. No. I get it. I get it. I really do. I get it. It just hurts."

"Of course it hurts, Daisuke." Ken reached out to offer his hand, a gesture his partner immediately took with great need. He tried to hold back his coming words, they wouldn't make anything better, but he had to. "I love you so much. More than anything."

Daisuke clasped his other hand on Ken's and gripped until one of his knuckles popped. With a weak chuckle, the red-head nodded. "Yeah yeah. Same here. Stop being so gay."

Ken breathed out a laugh as well, taking his free hand to wipe his face. "Right. Sorry."

They were silent for a few minutes, their hands still wrapped together. The weight of the future without each other was daunting, but the understanding of the downfalls of remaining together seemed to be much heavier. Losing their friendship was worse than losing their romantic life. They both deserved to be happy. It wasn't anybody's fault that it couldn't work out.

"You'll visit, right?" Daisuke asked. His voice was returning to normal.

"Of course. At least once a year. Probably twice. And we always have the Digital World."

Daisuke smiled weakly. "I'll visit too. We'll be able to see each other a lot, I guess. Huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah we will."

Nodding to himself, mostly as a way to shake off his discomfort, Daisuke continued. "Ken?"

"Dai?"

"Can I keep that shirt?" Even in the dark, Daisuke's weak smile reached Ken, a gesture that was easy to return. Ken nodded. "Good, it looks better on me."

"I know."

"If you want it back, you'll just have to come get it."

"A challenge?"

"You bet."

Ken drew one hand away, letting one of Daisuke's to lay palm up in his. He stroked the back of his friend's hand with delicate fingers, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time he'd share a tender moment with the man. But after pressing a thumb lightly into the center of Daisuke's palm, Ken knew he had begun on a beginning to an end.