*** Disclaimer: Digimon is mine! All mine! Oh, who am I kidding? Can I at least have Jyou? ...Rats, I didn't think so. Anyways, I think this is about as close to a songfic as I'm going to get. It was heavily inspired by Fuel's "Hemorrhage," hence where I got the title and the little snippets of song lyrics. I didn't want to make it a full-fledged songfic, though, and the lyrics are out of order. This story is told from Jyou's point of view, in reaction to a previous suicide attempt by Yamato. Yes, as with some of my other fics, I fell into that little habit of mixing in present-day and past narration. This time around, the first and last sections are the present. This is technically a sequel to "Fanatic Heart," although you don't need to have read that story to understand this one. It can stand well enough on its own. Hope you like! o.o ***
"Out of the Loony Bin"
To fall away, leave love bleeding
In my hands, in my hands again.
Leave love bleeding, in my hands,
In my hands, love lies bleeding.
I nearly died of mortification when Taichi decided, in the middle of the party, to hop up onto the table in order to get everyone's attention. As he banged a spoon so hard on the edge of a glass I thought it would shatter in his hand, I hid my face behind my hands. I couldn't help but chuckle, though -- it wasn't a time to be hiding, but to be having a good time.
"Hey! Everyone!" Taichi cried out. As the chatter died down and all eyes in the room shifted their attention to him, he continued on. "I'd just like to take this moment to offer congratulations to the man of the hour, Mr. Jyou Kido. He's worked his butt off to get where he is today."
I shook my head and sighed, but with a smile. I learned long ago that when Taichi got going on one of his rants, it was best to just let him go. Now was one of those times.
"He was the only kid I knew who enjoyed summer school, and look where he is now," Taichi said, beaming a wide smile down at me from atop the table. "Still in school. And probably will be for years to come."
Those in the room chuckled somewhat, even if Taichi couldn't make a joke to save his life, which was typical of him.
"The first of us to make it to University," he concluded, raising his glass in the air. "I'd like to wish you luck, Jyou, though I know you won't need it. You've made your own destiny."
All the glasses in the room went up, raised in a toast to success -- my success, I reminded myself. The smiling faces of all my friends and my family surrounded me, laughter on the air, and that was all that I needed. Even Yamato, who'd been so quiet for most of the evening, sat with his chin resting in his hand and a crooked grin on his face.
I cleared my throat then, although I certainly hadn't planned on making any speeches. The mere thought of it still caused me to choke up, even in front of my closest friends who'd stood by me all these years. "Well. Um, I guess I'd just like to say thanks. It probably sounds corny, but I wouldn't be here without any of you," I managed out before shrinking back into my seat.
Taichi hopped down from his chair and slapped me across the back. "Way to go, man. Maybe in a year or two I'll be joining you at ol' Tokyo University," he said, still grinning widely, as the rest of the room returned to their previously interrupted conversations.
"I hear they've got a decent soccer team," I replied, running my finger around the rim of my glass. "Maybe you could get a scholarship."
Taichi chuckled, his eyes alight with excitement over the evening. "You think so?"
I shrugged easily. "I don't see why not. You've got true talent."
Grinning, Taichi nodded, his wild hair shaking with the motion. "But of course! Would you expect any less from a Yagami?" He never was one for modesty. If anything, the years since we'd left the Digital World only made him more self-confident. "Hey," he murmured, his voice lowering as he changed the subject, "did you notice? They let Yamato out of the loony bin."
I frowned slightly, letting my eyes trail over to where the blond-haired boy sat, sullenly taking up the corner of my mom's couch. "Taichi, that's not a nice thing to say. I'm glad he showed up. It's probably good for him."
"Still, after what Takeru told me," Taichi murmured, taking pains to keep his voice down. "I'm surprised they thought it was okay for him to go out. What he did was pretty harsh..."
Lifting a brow, I regarded Taichi through the lowered lenses of my glasses. "Have you even spoken with him? Since... you know." It seemed the incident in which Yamato had tried to take his own life would always be carefully tiptoed around, mentioned in general, euphemistic terms.
Taichi's cheeks flushed faintly, and he broke his gaze with me. "Well, you know, I've planned to," he murmured. Defensively, he countered, "What about you?"
I had to shake my head, much as I hated to admit it. "No," I sighed. "I haven't talked with him either. But I thought the two of you were best friends."
"Were," was his muttered reply. I could see a glimmering flame of anger within Taichi's dark brow eyes.
I slid my hands into the pockets of my slacks, slumping my shoulders somewhat. "You shouldn't blame him, Taichi."
"I know," he replied as he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck pensively. "It still gets to me, though, that he just gave up."
"I wonder if I could have prevented the entire scene from happening," I said quietly, not expecting Taichi to hear me.
He raised his head to look at me, brows knitted in thought. "What could you have done, Jyou? Do you know something the rest of us don't?"
I covered for Yamato now as I'd covered for him once before. "If I do, I'm not aware of it," I said quickly. "I'm just saying, I could have called. Taken an hour or two out of my day to chat with him, or go out to eat. Something."
Taichi seemed to accept that answer for now. Eventually, our conversation faded out, and I was left alone with my thoughts in the middle of the party. I remembered a discussion I'd had so many years ago, one I'd had with Yamato, back when we were two terrified little boys thrown into the middle of the unfamiliar Digital World.
"Allergic to Pain"
At 1 a.m., the alarm on my watch roused me from a cold, dreamless sleep. I yawned, hunted through the darkness for my glasses, and nearly placed them on my face backwards. I turned to my sleeping Digimon and shook his shoulder gently.
"Goma? Hey, buddy. It's our turn for watch," I murmured, rubbing at my eyes beneath the thick lenses.
"Mmm. Cheeseburgers, calimari... Rhonda," the creature murmured, half-asleep. Then, as his eyes popped open, he glared at me, as if it was my fault I was not his dream woman. "You're not Rhonda."
"You're no beauty yourself. Time to wake up."
"Hrmph." My happy Digimon would definitely have preferred getting more sleep, and more dream-time with Rhonda, but I knew he'd be angry if I didn't wake him and had started watch without him.
I found Yamato beside the dying fire, quietly playing his harmonica. His Digimon, Gabumon, was fast asleep with his arm slung across Yamato's chest. The two huddled together for warmth in the chill of the night.
I flopped down besde him, and Gomamon curled up next to me and immediately fell back asleep, to dream about human women and ice cream sundaes. Lucky creature... "How's it going, Yamato?"
"It's been a pretty quiet night. I don't think there will be any problems."
"That's good."
"It's amazing what you think of sometimes when you're alone," he murmured quietly.
I turned to look at Yamato, quirking a brow curiously. "What's on your mind?"
"Have you ever found pleasure in pain, Jyou?" Yamato whispered, his crystal-colored eyes glinting oddly in the dying gleam of the fire.
"I can't say that I have, no," I replied as I wrapped my arms around my knees.
Yamato snorted light laughter. "Let me guess. You're allergic to pain," he said, not without a hint of sarcasm to his tone. He wiggled out from underneath Gabumon's grasp, and the Digimon slept on, oblivious.
I nervously adjusted my glasses, pushing them up the bridge of my nose and saying nothing in response.
After a time, Yamato continued, "Sure, there's the instinctive reaction to flinch away from pain. It's inherent in us all from a young age, when you first learn not to touch the hot stove because it hurts. Sometimes, though, that hurt is the only thing that will remind you that you're still around, still alive."
"Why are you saying this, Yamato?" I asked, not liking the direction the conversation had begun to take.
"Don't you understand, Jyou?" he replied, frowning as those icy blue eyes of his bore holes into me. "There are days when you become so numb to the world around you, even pain is welcomed. If you feel hurt, then it's better than feeling nothing at all."
I tilted my head slightly as I regarded the boy sitting across from me. "What causes you to feel that way? Numb?"
Yamato shrugged, as if easily dismissing the subject in his gestures. His voice, however, spoke of a different matter entirely -- there was masked emotion within. "Four years ago, my parents divorced. They separated me and my brother."
"Lots of families go through divorce these days."
"No, not like this," said Yamato, shaking his head quickly. "At first, it was okay. Just me and dad. But then... he started drinking. And the fighting began." With a quiet laugh, he added, "There were days when I'd provoke him, just to see what my dad would do."
My eyes widened somewhat, and although I didn't want to hear the answer, I found myself asking, "What did he do?"
Yamato leaned over, pushing down the edge of one of his leathery gloves to display a horizontal scar across the upper part of his forearm. The pink, healed gash was surrounded by a series of pinpricks, indications of the stitches that had closed the wound so many years ago. In the flicker of the firelight, I caught a glimpse of something more -- a faint spidering of a second scar, wrapping around his wrist.
With a sudden movement, I caught Yamato's arm in my hand. I held fast as he tried to pull away from my grip, and I managed to yank off the glove that covered his hand to mid-forearm. In the exposed flesh, I could see a remarkable latticework of healed scars across his inner arm. They were neat and vertical, the scars of someone who'd attempted many a time to open the delicate veins at the wrist with a sharp object.
I was too enthralled by the sheer amount of scarring across Yamato's arm to notice his other hand, curled into a light fist, coming towards my face. I felt the sharp impact and heard my glasses crack and tumble off somewhere into the distance. Releasing Yamato immediately, I raised my fingers to my cheek and braced for another hit. It didn't come, however.
When I realized I wasn't going to receive a pummeling, I felt around for my lost glasses. They were slightly bent, when I finally retrieved them, but they were easily fixed. I blew the dust from the lenses and delicately placed them back on, careful of the welt that had started to form on my cheek.
"Why did you go and do that, Jyou?" Yamato asked, curling his body into a tight ball with his arms wrapped around his knees. He didn't seem angry, but upset. The glove had been swiftly replaced, once more covering the angry scarring.
Wincing, I rubbed at the tender area on my cheek where I'd been struck. "Maybe you should be telling me what you did to yourself, instead."
"It was a long time ago, Jyou," he whispered. "I'm sorry I hit you."
I shrugged. "It's okay. I shouldn't have done what I did."
"Hitting is my father's way. Not mine," Yamato said in a pained whisper. With a sigh, he gave Gabumon a nudge before pushing himself to his feet.
"I said it's okay, Yamato." I didn't feel any anger towards him -- I deserved to be smacked for prying into Yamato's secrets.
"It's not." At that, Yamato placed his hands on his Digimon's shoulders, and the two headed off to get some sleep, leaving me alone to ponder the scarring on my friend's arms and the meaning behind our conversation. They weren't pleasant thoughts, at that.
"Suffocation Takes Coordination"
That night was especially rough on me. I don't think I got more than a couple hours of sleep after Koushiro relieved me from my watch duty. Yamato's words weighed heavily on my mind, causing me to shift restlessly for most of the night. Once, Gomamon woke up after I jostled him especially sharply, and he groaned at me to go back to sleep before starting up his snoring once again.
Of course, with all my worrying, I'd managed to work myself into an attack of wheezing by early morning. Sitting up quickly, I began to cough, to try to force the tightness out of my lungs, but it was no use. These attacks of asthma, although usually mild, always frightened me most in the Digital World, where I knew I wouldn't be able to get to a doctor in case they wouldn't let up.
Gomamon grumbled and rolled over in his sleep as I clamored for my bag and located the inhaler kept in an easily accessable pocket. Closing my eyes, I took as deep a breath as I could manage from the contraption, and within a minute or so my lungs were clear again. I sighed quietly, looking around self-consciously and knowing that if anyone had seen me, I'd hear no end to the teasing the next day.
Through the breaking light of morning, I could see two crystal-blue eyes staring at me. I muttered a hasty apology to whoever had been watching me, sorry that my noise had woken them up.
"What's it like, Jyou?" came a whispered voice -- Yamato.
"What?"
"Suffocating. Asthma. What's it like?"
Placing the inhaler carefully back within the depths of my bag, I shook my head quietly. "It's nothing I enjoy. I can say that much."
Yamato rolled his eyes and slid closer so he could whisper quietly to me without waking any of the others. "I'm not asking if you enjoyed it. I'm asking what it's like. What do you feel? Is it peaceful? Do you hallucinate?"
"I don't see what this has to do with--"
"Come on, Jyou. Just tell me," Yamato hissed, cutting me off. His eyes blazed with a smouldering intensity, and just from the look he was giving me, I couldn't help but give in.
"It feels like there's a belt placed around your chest that's slowly tightened. You don't even realize it's too tight until it's too late." I shook my head, eyes averting to the ground. "Your heart races, you start to wonder if you'll get the chance to breathe again. And, no, I can't say I've ever hallucinated."
Yamato listened with rapt attention, and I found the expression on his face disquieting. It was as if he enjoyed hearing me talk of suffocation, and he was taking mental notes for future reference.
"Of course, it's not the same thing as when you drown. At least then, it's not your own body that's causing you to suffocate." I spoke from experience there as well, still unable to swim at the age of twelve.
Yamato was quiet for such a long time, I thought he'd gone back to sleep. When I shifted my body to lie back down again and try to get some sleep, however, I could hear him speak again. "I don't know what it's like to suffocate. Not physically, anyway. I've suffocated in other ways."
"What do you mean, Yamato?" I asked, brow wrinkling somewhat.
He sat in thought for a moment before then murmuring, "Sometimes, without help, life just overcomes me."
"Do you need help?"
"No, it's nothing that any of you can give to me."
"Then who can?"
The blond-haired boy shrugged and curled back up again on the ground beside me. "I don't want to talk about it right now, Jyou. I'm tired," he murmured, his eyes closing once more as he began to drift back into sleep.
Letting out a quiet breath, I rolled over onto my side, away from Yamato, my arm draping over Gomamon protectively. My Digimon whimpered in his sleep before settling back in my arms comfortably. At least one of us got some sleep that night.
"If He Dies..."
Drag the waters 'till the depths give up their dead.
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Another day, another battle. It seemed we couldn't go a single day without having to fight some creature or another. Today it was a swarm of Gizamon, surrounding us with their frog legs and razor teeth. Yamato had thrown himself headlong into the fighting, even managing to grapple one of the Gizamon before Garurumon could protect his companion.
Taichi was livid, and the rest of us Digidestined shrank back as he and Yamato had it out again.
"What the hell do you think you were doing, Yamato?"
"Hey, someone had to take care of those creatures!"
"That's what our Digimon are here for. You know we can't regenerate like they do."
"It's not fair that we force them to fight our battles for us! I think it's about time one of us kids stood up for ourselves!"
Gabumon, who had de-digivolved from his Champion form of Garurumon, tugged on the edge of Yamato's shirt. "Excuse me, Yamato, might I say something here?"
"Come on, Gabumon," Yamato said, glaring down at his Digimon. "Wouldn't you like some help for a change from one of us?"
"But, Yamato, we're here to protect you. It's our duty to fight," Gabumon quietly protested.
Yamato shook his head, grumbling, "Not you too. Forget it, I'm out of here." With that, he turned on his heel to stalk off, leaving the rest of us to stare at his retreating figure.
Gabumon sighed and shook his head, and the ever-patient Digimon slowly followed Yamato into the forest. "I wish it would stop coming to this," he remarked.
"You and me both," Taichi muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.
As the rest of the Digidestined went about their business, pretending as if the fight had never occurred, I stood for a while gazing over the beach where we'd fought the Gizamon earlier in the day. There was blood in the sand, some belonging to the Gizamon, some to our own Digmon, and a little of it to Yamato.
It was as my eyes were surveying the sand that I noticed something that stood out from the rest of the landscape -- a small brown bottle. If we'd been back in the real world, I'd have taken no notice of it. However, because the Digital World was so clean, unpolluted by human hands save our own, the tiny item caught my sight.
I bent down to pick the item up and immediately recognized it as a bottle for prescription pills. I'd taken enough pills in my lifetime, usually forced upon me by a doting mother who'd thought me allergic to the world, but this particular bottle didn't belong to me. The label was made out to 'Ishida, Yamato' for an unfamiliar prescription known as Zoloft. Giving the bottle a shake, I realized it was empty.
I unzipped one of the compartments of the bag I kept slung across my shoulders and took out the battered pocket-sized medical journal and leafed through it until I located the description for the drug.
A class of antidepressants that selectively affect neurotransmitter (the chemicals that send messages to and from the brain) mechanisms in the central nervous system. Usually used to treat mental depression.
My eyes widened as I read the definition, and I looked with growing dread to the forest where Yamato and Gabumon had disappeared. It was all starting to make sense to me now, Yamato's strange words, his sleeplessness, the faded scars across his wrists.
Koushiro noticed me standing there staring at my medical journal with the prescription bottle still held loosely in my hand, and he wandered over. "Have you found anything interesting?" he asked.
"Huh?" I blinked and quickly thrust the brown bottle into a pocket. "Oh, no, just quizzing myself on drug classes beginning with the letter Z, that's all."
Koushiro gave me a strange look, and I didn't blame him for it. If he saw through my lie, he didn't catch on, and instead decided to leave me in peace. Perhaps he figured that whatever I was doing would be too weird for him, no matter what.
I decided to follow Yamato's tracks as far as I could into the forest, slipping off quietly so no one would notice me. I could be "Old Reliable" another time to the rest of the Digidestined; this time, I figured it would be best for me to approach Yamato alone. Before I got too far, Gomamon hopped the distance to catch up with me.
"You didn't think I'd let you sneak off alone, did you?" he chided.
I chuckled despite myself, and I shook my head. "I wasn't doing it on purpose, buddy."
"Good. Do you know where you're going?"
"To find Yamato?"
"That's a start."
The two of us kept our eyes opened for any clues of where Yamato and Gabumon might have gone, occasionally spotting some sneaker-prints or some snapped twigs in the path. As far as we could tell, we were going in the right direction. After some time of walking, the path opened up to a clearing, another beach that followed the path of the river.
As Gomamon and I approached the water's edge, I could see a faint form out in the middle of the rushing tide, a flash of green and blue. My eyes widened -- Yamato had his arms wrapped around a rock, and Gabumon was holding tightly to his companion, too weak from the battle to Digivolve.
"Gomamon," I murmured, "we've got to do something."
"Jyou, I'm still too tired," Gomamon whined.
I closed my eyes and sighed. Yamato and Gabumon hadn't noticed us in their struggle to keep from being swept away in the current. Ignoring the high-pitched cries of my Digimon, I tossed aside my bag and waded out into the rushing water, struggling to keep from being pulled downstream myself.
"Jyou! You can't swim!" cried Gomamon and, although still so tired and weak, splashed into the water beside me.
The water misted over my glasses, so it was tough to see, and I prayed they wouldn't fall off and be lost forever. The rocky water made it somewhat easier to keep my footing, but as I forced my way closer to the two stranded friends, the rushing water reached higher and higher, first to my chest and then to my neck.
"Ya--Yamato," I squeaked out in terror, of being pulled under by the tide, of losing Yamato or Gabumon -- or both. Reaching out my fingers above water as I drew closer, I added, "Come on, grab my hand." It was to no avail, as Yamato appeared to be unconscious.
"Jyou," Gabumon whispered, raising his furry head, "get out of the water. It's not safe."
The water rushed past my chin, some drops stinging the inside of my nose. "But Yamato... He'll die."
"If he dies, then I will die too," said Gabumon serenely, completely accepting of his destiny.
I coughed as I caught a lung full of water. I knew I couldn't remain standing for longer, so I threw my body forward with one final force of will until I was clinging to the same rock as Yamato and Gabumon.
"Oh, Jyou," whispered Gabumon. "I can't wake Yamato up."
Shivering, I wrapped my arms around the rock, holding fast to Yamato from the other side. "There's got to be some way to get him back to shore," I muttered. The rock was slick, and I felt my grip starting to slide.
"MARCHING FISHES!" shouted Gomamon suddenly as he summoned a burst of power from the last of his reserve. At that, my Digimon de-digivolved to Bukamon, his energy draining. Around the four of us, millions of colorful fish began to swarm, bearing our weight and keeping us from being pulled into the swirling tide.
Once we were back to shore, I hacked out the water that was still in my lungs, holding onto my stomach as it all came up. Finally, I managed to catch my breath enough to crawl over to Bukamon, who was lying quietly in the sand.
"Bukamon, buddy, are you alright?" I whispered, concerned and exhausted.
I wasn't the only exhausted one. Bukamon cracked a green eye open and croaked, "Yamato... Is he...?"
Clinging fast to my Digimon, I dragged myself on hands and knees to where Yamato and Gabumon lay huddled, one atop the other, in the sand. Gabumon was weeping, tears streaming from his large brown eyes.
"He threw himself into the water, Jyou," the gentle, wolf-furred Digimon sobbed. "I couldn't stop him. He said... he wanted to know what it was like to drown."
I winced, trying hard not to start crying, myself. "You mean he did it on purpose?"
Gabumon nodded, swiping his furry arms across his eyes. "I couldn't stop him. It was his choice."
"Yamato," I whispered, pushing a bit of the boy's blond hair from his forehead.
At my touch, his eyes fluttered open, and he immediately curled up on his side and started retching. I gently rubbed my hand against his back until he was finished, and I felt sick to my stomach as well. He turned over and stared up at me with glistening eyes.
"You saved me, Jyou," he whispered.
I nodded, unable to stop a pair of tears from coursing down my cheeks. I clung to Bukamon, feeling him quietly breathing. "What was it like to drown?"
Yamato shook his head. "I didn't mean to. It just happened that way. And I couldn't bring myself out of it in time."
"How are you feeling now?"
The boy winced, forced his eyes to break their gaze with mine. "I'm sorry, Jyou."
"Where would Takeru be without you? And Gabumon? If you died, then he would probably die too."
Yamato nodded as he sat up, curling his arms around his knees. "Takeru would be okay," he whispered, although I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn't believe his own words.
As I opened my mouth to respond, I could hear Taichi's voice shouting through the trees. "This way!" he cried out. "I hear them!" Several seconds later, the four of us were surrounded by our friends as they all broke through the clearing.
"Oh no," exclaimed Sora, kneeling down next to us in the sand. "You're both so wet and shivering."
"Are you okay?" cried Takeru as he dove to his brother's side, his Digimon Patamon flapping away like a football in the breeze beside him.
"Okay, guys, what happened? Were you attacked?" said Taichi, standing over us with his arms sternly on his hips.
Yamato turned away, and, thinking quickly, I spoke up. "It was all an accident, really. I ... I was at the water's edge, and I fell in. Yamato and Gabumon tried to save me, but they were both too weak from the battle. It was my fault, I take total responsibility."
Taichi rolled his eyes, and the other kids once again chalked it up to clumsy old Jyou again, getting himself and others into trouble. "Be more careful, willya, Jyou? You could have gotten yourselves killed!"
Yamato blinked, looking over at me with confused eyes as he started to protest. "But -- that's not what happened," he stammered.
"You don't have to stick up for me, Yamato," I said, lowering my eyes to the sand. "I know I should have been more careful."
"Well, I'm just glad the two of you are okay," said Taichi, this time with a gentle tone in his voice. "Why don't we make camp here for a while and rest up for the evening? We'll build a fire, and get the four of you warm again."
I nodded, and as the other kids set to finding firewood, Yamato turned to me and whispered, "Thanks, Jyou. I owe you one."
"You owe me more than one," I said, but with a smile. "And I think I'll call one of those favors in now."
Yamato frowned slightly, but nodded. "What is it?"
"Promise me you'll never try to take your life again?"
The blond-haired boy smiled, relieved. "I promise, Jyou."
"Friends, Imaginary and Real"
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember anything I said?
As the night went on, I managed to break away from all my friends who wanted nothing more than to congratulate me into getting into Tokyo University. I'd started to feel slightly claustrophobic, so I climbed out onto the balcony of our apartment to get some fresh air. At the railing, smoking a cigarette, was Yamato.
"Hey. Fancy meeting you here," I said, trying to sound casual, even though inside I was shaking. What do you say to someone who'd just been released from the institution?
"Jyou," Yamato said, smiling faintly as he turned. His hair, once long, had been cut short, and he was altogether too skinny to be healthy. "Want a cig?" he offered, before catching himself. "Oh, you don't smoke. I forgot."
"No problem," I said, walking to the railing to lean against it as I looked off into the night sky. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, I said, "So how are you doing?"
Yamato lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Peachy. Just peachy. "Though they don't let me smoke quite enough back at the ... home."
I chuckled, half-heartedly. "That's a tragedy."
"Isn't it, though?" Yamato took a drag, the lit end of the cigarette glowing like a firefly against the dark of the night. "I think I'm getting better. The doctor says I need to deal with my issues of separation anxiety. Of course, how do you explain to the head-shrinker that you're a wreck over a creature from another realm?"
"I can imagine how tough that would be. How do you get around talking about the Digimon?"
"Oh, I have my ways. The ol' Doc thinks Gabumon is just an imaginary friend. Mostly I talk about the divorce. "
I nodded. "Even my brother Jim thinks of the Digimon as a distant memory now. But then, he wasn't connected the way we were, as Digidestined."
"I still miss them all. I just hope we'll get to see them again one of these days."
"I've got no doubt that we will," I said, sighing slightly, other matters weighing on my mind. "Yamato...?"
"You don't have to say it. I know. I broke our promise. I let you down."
I shook my head. "You didn't let us down. If anything, we let you down. I could have called you as well, you know."
Yamato shrugged. "Look, Jyou, it's over. I guess we all know a bit better now."
"What was it like?"
"Nothing I ever want to go through again," he murmured. "Look, let me finish up my cigarette, and I'll meet you back inside. There's no reason for tonight to be a depressing one." He grinned crookedly. "It's time we both got on with our new lives."
As I turned to head back inside, a thought entered my head, and I paused in my tracks. "Yamato?"
"Yes, Jyou?"
"You still owe me one."
Yamato laughed, the smile illuminating his face. "Make it a good one this time, Jyou."
"I will, Yamato. I will." I grinned and opened the sliding glass door back into the apartment, back into the warmth and the suffocating noise of the party.