A/N: I dunno about the rating of this story… Is PG13 enough or should this be R? Plus, if you've got an idea for a name to this ficcie, please write it in your review!

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Digimon. Zilch. Zero. Nada. Inget. Nuthin' at all.

[Flaskback]

"I can't believe this! Why are you going out again? Why can't you see your friends some other time when I don't have to go to work?" Mr Ishida shouted angrily, throwing his arms up in the air as to empathize his sentences even more.

"Why can't you work when I don't have to see my friends?" Mrs Ishida shot back, just as heatedly.

"This family needs its money, that's why!"

"This was not what I desired when I married you, Masaharu!"
"Well, this is real life, not some kind of school-girl-dream." Mr Ishida said quietly, almost threatening.

"Umm… excuse me…" a rather high-pitched voice from the kitchen door said.

"I want a life. Can't you understand that? I don't want to be at home all day and I don't want to be so isolated. I want a job, I want to have a social life, and I want to-"

"Excuse me…" the small voice said again, this time a bit weaker.

"We. Can't. Afford. It." Mr Ishida let his finger drop into the palm of his open hand four times as he said the words. "Think about the kids. Who would look after them?"

"It's just because you're a man, isn't it? You're a man and I'm a woman." Mrs Ishida stated in that dangerously, faked calm tone that only hides a vast wave of fury. She clenched her teeth together and looked her husband right in the eye.

"Mummy, I need help, I don't know what this is," The little blond boy that stood in the doorway held up a colourful math book, filled with things like "2+4=?" and "7+2=?"

"Yamato, go to your room." was the reply he got. Sighing, Yamato gave his parents a miserable glance before turning around and walking back into his bedroom, shoulders slumping.

He reached up to the handle and opened the door when he heard his other say something more out in the kitchen.
"What did you call me!?"
"Bastard! Bastard, bastard, bastard! God, I hate you!" The sound of his mother's half crying voice could still reach him, as could his father's.

"I will not allow anyone calling me anything like that under my roof, you hear that Natsuko?"

"Our roof, our! I can't live like this,"

Mr Ishida said something that Yamato could make out.

"That's it, Masaharu! In two weeks I'm out of here, forever."
"You want a divorce? Well, that's fine with me!"

"Did I say two weeks? Scratch that, one week," Mrs Ishida screamed. "And I'm taking the kids with me,"

"Wha-No way. Those are mine kids as well as yours."

"Then I'm taking Takeru,"

"What if I want Takeru?"

Yamato bit his under lip to keep it from quivering, and he silently hurried himself into the bedroom he shared with his younger brother, closing the door safely behind him.

Squeezing his blue eyes shut, he felt tears well up in them and he let his body drop slowly and limply to the floor. He hid his head under his arms, not allowing the sound of his sobs to reach anywhere but to his own ears.

[End of Flashback]

*about 10 years later*

The knife's sharp blade glimmered in the ashen light of the moon and stars outside the window. Yamato's under lip quivered, but this time he didn't bite it to prevent it from doing so. He was alone anyway. His dad had gone on a business trip to Tokyo.

It wasn't the horrible memories of his parents' fights or the self-loathing that had made him come to this conclusion though. It was his love that had been the final grain of rise that tipped the scale.


[Flashback]

He wasn't out of breath, yet his breathing came in short puffs. Hundreds of small voices inside of his head whispered, taunted and hissed at him, telling him all his faults and weaknesses. How foolish and worthless he was. Never, ever, would the person he wanted love him back. Taichi… Impossible!, the voices derided.

All the months of self-criticism and –hatred had finally taken out their toll on him.

Hot tears pricked his eyesight as he almost frantically tied his winter shoes on, his hands so badly shaking that it was hard to make a knot of the shoelaces' loose ends.

When he had finally managed to get the shoes on properly, he put on a jacket and went out in the freezing exterior landscape.

It was a beautiful early evening, the pure white snow almost reaching up to his knees, but Yamato didn't, or maybe couldn't, notice.

He grabbed the snow-shovel that was placed in an upright position in a mound of snow. He just had to do something to make the voices stop and get his mind off… his love. The love that was impossible and as some people also thought, forbidden.

Letting out a small, frustrated hiss, he started shovelling the heavy snow, making his way around the building. No one was out, not even any cars were driving down the street, and Yamato was thankful for that. He didn't want anyone to see how pathetic he was.

He shovelled until the sky had darkened to a deep blue colour and his back was screaming for him to stop. The tears that had managed to roll down his cheeks had turned to ice.

[End of Flashback]

"I'm sorry," he whispered to everyone, everything and the emptiness of the room he was standing in. He put the knife against the pale skin of his wrist…

TBC…

A/N: Sooo… what do you think? *twiddles her thumbs nervously* You want me to continue?