Notes: Heavily inspired by the song, "...By Your Side" by Hatsune Miku (Vocaloid, hell yeeeeee).

Originally written in May 2017.


by your side

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Tactimon remembers a quote from halcyon days long past, of silence and love and friendship and betrayal.

Silence: the truest of friends, that which cannot betray you, and his sister had scoffed and tossed her head back in mad laughter. He hadn't understood why back then, when he could find no falsity in the words. They weren't wrong; it didn't berate him, it couldn't judge him, it kept his secrets, it was impossible for it to betray him.

It couldn't hurt him.

The summer air is humid yet breezy, a hint of chilly wind cutting through the heat, and the evening is filled with the melodic hum of hidden insects. The orange glow of the setting sun filters through the trees, radiant rays of warming, soothing light like a myriad of ghostly fingertips resting against his back. Tactimon shifts, almost as if to slide out from underneath their grasp.

It couldn't understand him, either.

Listening—in the most superficial of ways—perhaps, but Tactimon had stopped talking to something that couldn't answer him decades ago. No, it couldn't berate or judge him as so many had, and it kept his secrets as well as the dead—an invisible shroud that held others at bay for as long as he desired.

Tactimon isn't certain he wants that anymore.

Bii twitches in his sleep, growling something unintelligible, and struggles restlessly until Tactimon gently wraps his arms around him and moves him with great care. He tucks him into his left arm, hand curling around his waist, and allows Bii to lie against his chest instead of awkwardly sprawled across his lap.

"Nn, wha?"

Bii's eyes briefly flutter open and he tries to blink the sleep out of them, but Tactimon brings his free hand to stroke the wild mess that is his partner's hair. He does it slowly, methodically, reaching underneath the purple mask to give Bii fond scratches that he subconsciously presses into.

Tactimon no longer scowls at the way the sight lifts his heart.

"Love ya," Bii murmurs near inaudibly, more asleep than awake, and snuggles into Tactimon, nuzzling his head into the crook of Tactimon's neck. He settles there, the tail-end of his quiet exhales light purrs. His tail gradually winds around Tactimon's waist, and then he's still again, a solid and warm presence in Tactimon's lap.

Tangible—real.

Silence can't love him, and pain, Tactimon thinks, pain he's had enough of to last several lifetimes over. His hold on Bii tightens, right arm cradling the demon lord's lanky legs. He rests his chin atop Bii's head and closes his eyes.

This silence he can endure until the morning. Bii never runs out of things to say, and while he may never admit it, Tactimon loves hearing all of them.

I love you, too, he thinks to himself, and his heart sings in time with the cicadas.