Author's Notes: I just wanted to point out how important dialogue and flow are in this particular project. Because I am limited to a 672 word count (for the sake of aesthetics), I try to pay special attention to what gets included. I'm happy to know you're liking it!

X.

When he agreed to meet Taichi for lunch, he had not expected to actually show up. It was a routine gig, really, cancelling on his friends' casual invitations, but he had not counted on Taichi's stubbornness or his own waning energy in rejecting him. So despite his best attempts, the lunch date was still on. He rode his motorcycle to the place, parking about a block away from the small restaurant where they had met plenty of times before. He winced, recalling he'd even taken Sora there a few times, back when they were still just casually seeing each other. He doubted Taichi remembered that, though.

He walked through the door, instantly recognising his friend's wild hair sticking out from a booth right by the large windows. Yamato waved one hand casually as he took the seat directly across Taichi, offering his friend a small, cool smile.

"I thought you'd stand me up," Taichi told him, one eyebrow raised.

"I planned to," Yamato admitted, looking at the menu with slight interest, "But I was hungry, so I figured I'd show up after all."

"Jerk," Taichi sighed, taking a sip of his cold iced tea. His brown eyes scrutinized Yamato and he frowned. "You look like shit."

Lifting an eyebrow, Yamato called the waitress and they gave out their order. He kept the menu in his hand. "Remind me again why don't I regularly have lunch with you?"

"You luck out, too often." He pointed at Yamato's face. "When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

"I don't think I remember," Yamato groaned. It wasn't entirely a lie, he had been very busy with his band, and school, and trying to work on new material while avoiding vomiting bits of his heart out.

Their food was brought and they busied themselves with it for a moment. Yamato pushed vegetables around, dreading to ask the question. "How is she doing?" he asked quietly, taking a long drink of tea.

Taichi chewed slowly, then shrugged.

"We had dinner and watched a movie last night," Taichi continued, "She seems to be fine, which is the only reason you're sporting a smile instead of a black eye," he finished, frowning.

Despite himself, Yamato smiled.

"But she's worried about you. I mean, we all are, but you know how she is." He gave him a pointed look. "I don't think she likes that you're avoiding her."

"I'm not avoiding her."

"Come on," Taichi said, "We haven't seen you in weeks – not since you broke up."

But Yamato only shook his head. "It's not her I've been avoiding."

And he told Taichi. About Mimi, and what had happened years ago. About Takeru, and how he hadn't realised what he felt, how everything had crept upon him so slowly at first and then, all at once, he had been cut to the knee. He told him about Sora, and how sorry he felt he hadn't been able to love her the way she wanted| him to. Lastly, he told him about Mimi's unflinching rejection, and his brother's cold shoulder.

When he was finished he looked up, and Taichi was looking back at him with a mixture of surprise and what he imagined must be pity. "You should talk to Sora," he finally said.

"Sora?" he narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to do that to her."

"She has a right to know," Taichi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think she blames herself for not being there for you, but she doesn't know there's nothing she could have done different. Don't you think you owe her that?"

"Since when did you get so mature?" Yamato asked with a chuckle, knowing his friend was right down to the dot.

Taichi looked offended. "What do you mean? I've always given out great advice, I'll have you know."

"What about …?"

"I think you should deal with your own feelings first," his friend offered wisely, "Let them deal with theirs."

Keep your head down. Do your own time.