Disclaimer: If Digimon belonged to me, any and all canon-compliance would be out the window. Mark my words.

[26/07/16]

Title: Steep, Sip, Savor
Rating: G
Genre: Friendship, romance, a bit of everyday drama that's part of life.
Pairing: Jyou/Sora, background Jyou/Mimi
Word Count: 1,677
Summary: She's beautiful and that's all there is to it. She has to believe that, or else she'll go crazy.

"So, you're seeing someone else."

It takes her a full fifteen seconds after the words have clumsily tumbled out of her mouth to realise she actually said it. In that time, Sora thinks about at least eight things she could have commented on instead and though she smiles at him, she has been mentally kicking herself since.

Way to go, Sora.

Polite as ever, Jyou scratches the back of his neck, nervous as usual. His hair is longer and he looks edgier, more laid-back, handsome as a devil. Sora knows it's just how he looks though, because his fingers still tap anxiously against his porcelain cup and — she desperately wants to touch it. She also knows better than asking though, and so she keeps her hands to herself, wondering how come he never let his hair grow that long, back then.

"Yeah," he keeps his answers short, and she hides a grimace in the edge of her steaming mug of oolong.

"Is it recent?" she asks, like it's the most casual thing in the world, like she's asking, 'when are you cutting your hair?'. Except there's nothing casual about the way her heart seems to pause as she waits for an answer. So she wills her lips into what she hopes is an encouraging smile, trying to remember what those looked like and, she considers later, failing miserably at it.

He licks his lips, as oblivious to her suffering as he was when they were twenty-two and twenty-three and he was working his arse off in medical school while she wasted away in her mother's flower shop, hungering for a bohemian-artist-life that just wasn't cut out for her. Twenty-two-years-old-Sora would've been all over this new haircut and she feels robbed, suddenly, of the experience.

Add that to the list of unresolved baggage and bring out a new notepad, she thinks.

"I guess," he says cryptically, pursing his thin lips. "It's been a little over six months, actually."

"Wow."

Six months is little over half a year, but it feels like half a lifetime, like, only barely a year, not two years ago, that would've been out of the question. But something doesn't add up, she thinks, because she's run into Jyou before today, has stopped to talk to him in the street and once or twice, when Tuesday nights are lonely and the sake has been lovely, she's called him, sappy words mixing with the sweet alcohol and he's always, always picked up.

Too late, she realises she hasn't said anything and how that wow could be her demise.

"Congratulations," she says quickly, taking another long sip and burning her tongue in the process.

"Thank you," he says, turning his mug between his long, pale fingers. "How about you? Are you, ah, seeing someone?"

Seething between her teeth at her poor, dumb, burnt tongue, she shakes her head.

"No," she says, and she laughs. "I mean, you know how it is."

You know? You know?

There had been that sweet guy who went to her gym, Ryo, but he'd been so much fonder of games and Sora had had enough of players to last her a lifetime. Then there had been Yamato, who was edgy, and cool, and had a band, but they'd often sit around and not talk at all and no matter how handsome he was (and he was, gods, he was), Sora had cut him loose pretty soon. He was dating a blonde bombshell the last time she saw him, and she'd been quick to switch lanes and pretend she hadn't. She'd been kissed by a drunk Daisuke about four months ago, but she didn't count that as she'd be mortified to let Jyou know that had been the last guy to give her some action.

(It counts in her mind though, privately, because how sad would it be, if it didn't?)

He smiles benevolently, nodding as if he understands, as if he doesn't have a painfully pretty girlfriend waiting for him, somewhere. "Yeah, I do."

And maybe it's his smile, and maybe it's his damned hair and his perfect teeth but Sora is no longer feeling so benevolent. "You know," she begins, then leans back into her chair, taking a good look at him. "I wish you had told me about it, though."

"Excuse me?"

He's surprised, genuinely so, and that gives Sora some pause. Is she crazy? Gods, she hopes she's not the crazy one here. What she means is, all the opportunities were there, and Jyou simply hasn't said anything, and she thinks it's the strangest thing, because he could've.

You know?

"That's not—," he stammers, picking up his cup and placing it back down, tea sloshing a bit. "I mean, why would you say that?"

"Jyou."

She commends herself for sounding a lot more collected than she is, but she's already figured she's in the rights, so it has done wonders to settle her nerves over sounding like a crazy, jealous ex-girlfriend. Which, she kind of is, she reckons.

"What is it? Did you think I'd be hurt?" With difficulty, she rolls her eyes. "It's been forever, Jyou."

Actually, almost two years in November. Strange, how she remembers that.

"It's not that," he says at once, and the pink in his neck has risen to his cheeks. He looks adorable, and she deliberately frowns.

"Then?"

It's just ... ah, you've seen her."

Sora blinks slowly. "Yes," she says, a little too dryly, so she adds, "She's really beautiful, by the way."

By the way! As if it was an afterthought, like she hasn't been thinking about her, looming in the back of her mind, perfectly manicured fingers twining in Jyou's midnight-blue locks. As if she hasn't imagined her pearly white teeth sinking into his neck, and how she must always smell like jasmine and licorice and gold, or sunshine — all things beautiful, and happy, and sweet.

Jyou nods, swallowing thickly and as he laughs, his nose wrinkles. "I was kind of afraid you'd judge me, I guess. I don't know. It was stupid."

Sora blushes deeply this time, but she has enough sense to avoid his eyes and allow her blood to simmer down. It's partly that he's being so familiar with her again, and partly that after all this time, he still knows her so well (an even tinier part is secretly glad, even).

"There's nothing wrong with being a little shallow..."

His eyebrows go up.

"I'm not being shallow."

"Right," and this time it's her who wants to laugh a little, and she kind of does, stopping only when she spots his frown. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, she's, well ... she looks like she wandered out of a magazine spread, that's what I meant."

She really does, which is why Sora's heart sank the moment she saw this gorgeous creature hanging merrily from her former boyfriend's neck, lips a perfect glossy pink even after she'd kissed him. She had thought she'd marry him once, and now here he was, kissing strange, perfect girls with perfect hair and clothes that didn't wrinkle and left him with a dumb, lovestruck expression she was sure she had never seen on him, ever. She's beautiful but that's all there is to it; Sora has to believe that or else, she really will go crazy.

"That's just the thing though," he says, and he's no longer nervous, or red in the face. "I mean, she's — she's all that, obviously, but that's not why we're together."

Obviously?

It clicks just a second too late, and Sora shakes her head, and her hands, and nearly knocks her tea down.

"Oh," she tells him, "You don't have to—,"

"You were a very big part of my life for a long time, Sora. I don't know why, I just felt kind of weird, trying to meld these two parts, together." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a breathy sort of laugh. "And, I didn't want you to get the wrong idea about her, and me, and everything."

The tea between her hands has grown cold and she wants to stop him, but she only folds her hands neatly on top of her lap, watching him as he steadily, softly, breaks her heart and she says: "I could never."

"You'd really like Mimi," he says with a smile. "And I just know she'd love you."

"I'll take your word for it," she says politely, smiling back and allowing that to falter only when she has swallowed back her tea, bitter and cold.

Because she knows where this is going, has known it since he said, so resolutely I'm not being shallow. Sora knows he isn't, but what that means is that this Mimi (why would he put a name to the face, why?) is not only beautiful but kind, and graceful, and probably the sort of girl who wakes up pretty and whose jokes everybody laughs at. And what that means for her is that Jyou, her Jyou (he was hers first, after all), has gone and forgotten all about her, while she still thinks about him on gloomy Sunday mornings, as she sits by the window drinking warm tea with milk. And it means the rogue-hair, the designer glasses and sharp, smart coat are here to stay and there is not a thing Sora can do about it.

There's not a thing Sora ever could do, though, and she lets that sink in before she talks again, counting the minutes until it's appropriate to leave. They part with a friendly, short hug, and she takes advantage of the opportunity to run her hand through his hair, tugging softly. It's softer than she remembers, silky between her fingers and every bit as good as she had imagined it to be. Damn it.

"Must be a bit of work," she jokes, lightly.

Jyou's phone goes off so he glances at it, and his smile goes so soft it makes Sora want to cry.

"Yeah, she really is."

Author's Notes: The idea for a Jyoura (which comprises the basic skeleton of this one) had been circling my mind for months, and I had started a very short draft originally titled 'tea for three', with only wisps of conversation that barely made it into this final draft that I completed between yesterday and today. You might think 'this is totally ooc Sora', to which I say: is it though? I've always thought she's a little more insecure than the rest despite how strong she is as a character, and it's not hard to imagine her feeling a bit helpless and forlorn at the thought of her once-big-love moving on to someone that is superficially better than her (at least, in her mind. I don't think Jyou's really made that comparison at all).

Sorry to bore you with the commentary! It felt important to explain.

Thank you for reading.