Memories haunt, and times of old grow near to the heart.
Wanting to drown it out, there is only one thing.
Drinking.
He tears up from bed, whipping open the door and snatches a drink. Getting it open, he sank to the bed again, leaning as he drained the bottle in one go.
It was tonight, he'd get smashed at his apartment. No one, nothing could stop him. BlackGabumon only looked on from his place on the other side of the bed, not wanting to disturb his Master.
He knew Yamato needed it now and again. To be shitfaced. Better there than at a bar, where the Digimon had no way of caring. So he watched, as the blond consumed beer after beer, turning on the music on his laptop and jamming.
He smoked a few, and was soon jumping around, flailing his beer and dripping ash onto the carpet. He needed this. Soon the drinks and pack of smokes were gone. The blond having none was throwing a fit.
He had tossed pillows, and slammed into walls, even tried to pry off the faucet in a drunken fit. Eventually, the Digimon got him on the bed, where he was yelling and sobbing about Takeru and Hikari. About how he loved everyone of his friends. Even Taichi.
Drunk and lazy, Yamato soon draped himself along the bed, his skinny legs half off and hung to the floor, arms scattered every which way, and half naked. He shivered as his partner got a sheet to lay across his body, and he was sleeping, with hiccups every now and then, and asking in his sleep if there was anymore beer.
Typical Yamato, a typical night for BlackGabumon, but he was glad they were together, Glad he would always be by his side.