Trigger warning: Self-harm.
a/n: It seems Takeru's party was crashed. Oops. [heh heh] This has been sitting at 4.5k forever, and since I wasn't getting anywhere with the original plan of the chapter, I decided to take another direction. I'm sorry for the delay, and I hope it still turned out ok. Thank you so much for the support, everyone. It does not go unappreciated.
"This is what it takes to breathe. This is what it takes to fake a smile and say that everything's ok; as long as I take blame." — Built for Blame, Get Scared
Ch 14 || Like Glass
Takeru was treading in murky water. Somewhere, he heard a door opening and then closing. Somewhere, he heard voices. But he didn't want to leave. Didn't want to fully wake up—not after finally settling into the beautiful, misty sea of sleep.
Sleep. When had he fallen asleep? And why, all of a sudden, had it become so peaceful? As the voices grew closer, grew louder, Takeru finally decided to come up for air.
His eyes fluttered open dazedly, but trying to consume the bright, blurry haze around him all at once was too much. They squeezed shut and he brushed the fatigue from them with hands that felt like rubber.
"...stopped by, you know, to see what the plans are for today..."
"...ah, ok... and when are you...?"
"...there's food! Food!"
"...shit, you did bring food...! See, Hikari, there's a reason I love you..."
"...I'm the one who brought food, idiot..."
"...then I guess I can love you, too..."
Takeru blinked a few times as he realized slowly that he recognized those voices. As his vision cleared a little, he caught a glimpse of chestnut-brown hair. The flash of a camera. Heard the purr of Tailmon's voice as she joined the conversation.
"H-Hika...?" he murmured, uncertain. The voices quieted somewhat, and the next thing he knew, Hikari was kneeling in front of him with a smile that threatened to collapse into laughter.
"Morning, sleepyhead."
She sounded like Taichi for a moment, the back of his mind noticed. Takeru glanced around; saw the faces of his friends. Miyako, who was engaged in a small, whisper-yelling argument with Daisuke. Iori, who was setting up a box on the coffee table and trying to tame the group of hungry digimon. Ken, who was torn between being amused by Miyako and Daisuke, and looking at Takeru in concern. Takeru frowned as he noted the slight rings under his eyes.
"Did you get enough rest last night?" Hikari inquired, her smile faltering as she noticed his frown. Or maybe it was because the circles shadowing his eyes were worse than Ken's. As if actually paying attention, Miyako broke her verbal war with Daisuke and raised an eyebrow.
"What's up, anyway?" the purple-haired Chosen asked. "Not that you never sleep in, but you're usually up before it gets this late. Aren't you an early riser?"
"What time is it?" Even to him, his voice was foreign. Breathy. Soft. Too soft.
"A little after eleven," Iori answered.
"You slept a lot," Upamon chirped.
Shit. How could he have slept that late? Takeru swallowed; tried to get rid of the cotton stuck in his throat. He rubbed his eyes again in an attempt to wake himself up. How had Ken and Daisuke managed it? Every time his eyelids drifted shut, he had a hard time trying to open them again. Exhaustion refused to let go of him.
"Sorry," he mumbled when he realized they were all waiting for a response. When Hikari's eyes brimmed with worry, he shoved all thoughts of sleep toward the back of his mind; locked them in a chest; threw away the key. "I guess I should set an alarm, yeah?"
"Alarm? Those noisy things that scream at you in the morning to get up even though you tell it to snooze a bunch of times?" Poromon's face scrunched up in disgust. "Those suck."
Hikari gave him a long, hard look, but kept quiet. Suspicion glistened in her eyes, asking questions that went unspoken. Takeru couldn't hold her gaze for long before looking away in shame.
It wasn't that he wanted to keep things from her. From them. Especially because of the events five days prior. Even though they were his friends, he couldn't figure out how to tell them. He couldn't risk hurting anyone else. Ken and Daisuke already knew enough and were probably already going to ask questions, but he didn't have answers.
So when Miyako asked, "Which one do you want?" to change the subject, Takeru felt a sense of relief wash over him, and as his gaze landed on what she was gesturing to. Relief shifted to hunger, and as if to give that hunger a voice, his stomach grumbled.
She laughed—a sound that eased the tension building in his muscles. "Here." She picked a doughnut up with a napkin and handed it to him. "I thought I'd bring a little something for us to eat; you know, since we came early and all."
Early? Takeru blinked, and it took a few moments for him to dispel the cobwebs gathering in his brain. When had they planned anything? Memories threaded themselves through his mind, coming in bits and pieces before... ah.
Last night, before the girls and Iori had left, they'd made arrangements to comb the digital world for clues regarding the meeting with Gennai five days ago. How had he forgotten?
"When are we planning on leaving?" he asked quietly, before taking Miyako's generous offer with a soft "thank you."
"Hopefully sometime soon," Chibomon piped up through a mouthful of food. "I'm bored."
"Me too," Upamon added.
Takeru looked at them and smiled softly; hesitantly. Before he could say anything, Iori said, "That's what we came over to find out."
"Considering all three of you don't seem to know how to check for messages," Miyako grumbled a little irritably.
That made Takeru blink again. Where did he put his d-terminal—or his phone, for that matter? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ken reaching in his pocket as if searching for the same thing.
Daisuke just frowned. "Uh, yeah. We were sleeping. Not everyone likes to wake up bright and early."
Miyako fixed a glare on him. "We know that now."
Takeru took a bite of his doughnut and swallowed. He didn't want to dwell on the subject of sleeping for too long. Still, Daisuke didn't say a word about Takeru's nightmare. And Takeru sure as hell wasn't going to speak up.
Thinking about it made him shiver. He tried to push it out of his mind, but once the one thought surfaced, they attacked his brain in waves. Without realizing it, his fingers dug into Patamon's fur; pulled him closer.
His partner looked up at him, blinking in concern. But Takeru didn't meet his gaze. Could only think about the horrific events in his dream: all of his friends, bloody and dead, in the same order as the dream that had started it all. But this time, they weren't on the ground.
They'd been hanging by the neck. All of them. And their eyes had been open, staring right at him. Through him. Their pleas echoed, unbidden, in his mind—a distorted, ghostly soundtrack to a movie he had no interest in watching:
Takeru, didn't you hear us? The screaming, Takeru. Takeru, why?
"...and that's why—hey, Takeru. I'm talking to you. I know you just woke up and all, but I swear, the next time you zone out on me, I might just whack you one."
His mind catapulted back into reality, and Takeru felt his face heat up as the remark left Miyako's lips. She was joking, sure. But how had he allowed himself to become so controlled by his thoughts that he was unaware of everything around him?
He felt Daisuke's and Ken's eyes on him. He made sure he didn't make eye contact with them in fear that he would drown in the worry that swam in their gazes and tried his best to play along with his friend's teasing.
"Sorry. I guess I'm still a little tired," he replied lamely, his voice not nearly as strong as he wanted it to be. The last thing he needed was more questions. Questions would get his mind racing on the nightmares, and the nightmares would get him thinking about the ghosts, and the ghosts made him want to—
No. No. He wasn't going there; not right now. Not in front of them. Especially since... he inwardly shook his head. Stood abruptly, asking, "Are you guys thirsty? There's juice in the fridge."
There was a bit of a pause before Hikari smiled softly and said, "Sure." Her response was echoed by Daisuke and Miyako, and about a minute later, he was trying to carry four cups of juice from the kitchen to the front room without spilling it.
They spent the remainder of the morning chatting and planning and finishing their breakfast. Takeru grabbed his second doughnut after a bit of coaxing from Miyako, who said that even though it was a bit of a sweet breakfast, he needed more than one to hold him over for the day ahead of them. He wasn't all that hungry after the first one, but he ate it anyway so she wouldn't push further.
The blond sipped his juice. Daisuke held the record of doughnut consumption at four and only stopped because Miyako—who seemed very, very excited to do some hunting and possibly ass-kicking in the digital world—told him that he needed to save some for the rest of them. Daisuke, frowning, shrugged and said that if she was worried about running out, then she should have brought more than two dozen. The digimon, after all, had consumed their box of doughnuts in record time. And there were about three left in the box Miyako had bought for the humans to eat.
Soon enough, though, the box was empty, and they finished their drinks. Satisfied with their breakfast (lunch?), they cleaned up their mess. Daisuke disappeared into the bathroom to change, and Ken followed in suit, once again borrowing a set of clothes from Takeru.
Takeru went into his room and slipped out of his sleepwear, grabbing a pair of shorts from his dresser. He reached for a short-sleeved white shirt that was hanging up in his closet and hesitated for a moment.
Sleeves. Something with sleeves.
He tossed the white shirt aside and threaded his arms through the sleeves of a faded green one to cover thin crimson marks of failed escape. He did his best not to look at them, but it was hard; especially since he was now alone and... and he really, really wanted to despite not knowing why he wanted to. He paused, eyes trailing to his most recent self-produced emotional outlet.
Rewinding. Sleepless nights; kept secrets; disembodied whispers; unseen shadows. The day after Gennai's meeting: Clean, just like he'd promised himself.
The night after that: He'd been so tempted. It was hard to keep secrets buried when so many people were now involved, even if they didn't know how deeply they were rooted in the situation. Or how much he knew.
The night after that: Another nightmare. He hadn't been loud enough to wake Patamon. Just a small gasp as he launched out of slumber, smothered by shaking hands before it could turn into a scream. He couldn't stay in his room, so he abandoned it in favor of the bathroom with every intention of simply waiting out the anxiety, nausea, and painful heart palpitations; and before he knew it, he was thinking to himself: How could I break a promise this soon?
Last night: He probably would have if Ken and Daisuke hadn't been there to calm him down. Oh, he had been so close. After slipping once, it was so much easier to just let yourself fall rather than trying to keep yourself upright. To remain on the ground. To become buried, because for some reason, staying underneath everything felt so much safer than finding a ladder to climb your way out.
Maybe... maybe, just once. To... to keep things in check. Just for control. Control. Nobody has to know.
He stared as if his eyes were the knives, and he pictured all of the possible ways that he could do it. Thought of the first time; the bliss that it had brought to him. The way it had helped. How it had given him a sense of relief and release that no one else could.
He was moving, and he wasn't exactly sure where he'd found his lost friend, but all the of the sudden, it was in his hand, and he drew in a deep breath. Just enough to get him through the day. Just enough...
Nobody has to know, he repeated to himself and slowly brought the blade to a clean expanse of skin just below an area of scars. He pressed down gently. Then just a little harder. Harder. Not enough to draw blood. But enough to feel it. The quick, bittersweet kiss of steel; the rough caress which brought flaws to soft, untouched flesh.
I am so, so sick, his brain whispered, but for some reason, he didn't care.
A knock on the door. Takeru jumped and acted on impulse: dropped the blade; kicked it under the bed; rolled his sleeve down with enough force that it stung. The doorknob twisted and it cracked open before Hikari asked, "Are you decent?"
"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, unable to come up with a better reply. The door widened and the brunette stepped through, smiling until she took in Takeru's anxious expression.
"What's wrong?"
Nothing. Everything. Takeru swallowed nervously. "You startled me, is all. What's up?"
"Your mom is here. She's on her lunch break," the child of Light explained. Added, "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Takeru said. "I was just about to head out there anyway. I wasn't taking too long, was I?"
Hikari shook her head. Stared at him knowingly but remained silent for a while. Takeru suddenly felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he was tempted to spill the truth just because of the look on her face.
Hikari was a mixture of everyone: motherly like Sora; strong and brave like her brother; intelligent like Koushiro; cautious like Jou; sincere like Mimi; calm and collected like Yamato. And yet she was strangely still herself; her own person. Yagami Hikari. Independent and kind, a companion who would always stick by his side, through thick and thin. A person whom he'd considered his best friend. A gentle spirit who permeated light in the darkest of places, but accepted the darkness for what it was.
She was also withdrawn and secretive at times... just like Takeru. Had proven that five days ago, when she'd dragged him away from that damned lake to which Koushiro had accidentally brought them. Memories of years passed poured through his mind like water into a glass: when she was ill the first time she traveled with them to the digital world; her thoughts on the new group of Chosen three and a half years ago; when she'd been chosen as a target by the Dark Ocean...
There was something going on inside that brain of hers, but she simply gazed at him soundlessly, studying him. Then her head tilted to the side, her hair swaying with her movements. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and, afraid of what she was going to say, Takeru shot her the best smile he could.
Pulled his sleeves protectively over his fingers and asked, "So, um, are Ken and Daisuke ready?"
"I think so," she answered, sounding somewhat baffled by his sudden question. "Don't forget your D3."
She pointed at his dresser. Takeru's smile faltered as he realized that grabbing the device—as well as his d-terminal—had slipped his mind, but he hurried to fix his mistake. "Right. Are you ready?"
She nodded, a smile small curving her lips as well. Takeru's grin widened and didn't hesitate to grab her small hand, pulling her out of the bedroom. On the inside, he was screaming—especially when they walked in a conversation between his other friends and his mother. But no one needed to know that.
"...did something happen? In the digital world?" his mom was asking, appearing concerned. When her eyes landed on Takeru, he tried not to wince.
"We were just heading there, actually," Miyako explained easily with a smile that covered the fact that she'd avoided her question. "Did Takeru not tell you, Takaishi-san? Shame on you, Takeru."
Takeru stiffened slightly, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. His mother looked at him once again as Miyako said the words, and she studied him. Hard. A look of motherly concern crossed her features before she smiled tightly and said, "Well, I left early this morning, but you boys were still asleep and I didn't want to wake any of you. Although a note would have been nice if you were going to leave without telling me." She paused and added, "And as much as I adore your friends, it's nice to know when we have guests."
The young blond flinched, scratching the back of his head. A part of him desperately hoped she would drop it and simply enjoy her lunch break. Another part of him wondered if she had heard them at all last night.
He remembered throwing up early this morning. Remembered screaming. Remembered Ken slapping him. Remembered Daisuke and the digimon entering the bathroom with a bunch of questions. Remembered having to follow instructions to learn how to breathe again. And yet it was strangely still a blur; had happened so fast his mind still couldn't grip each detail.
Had she slept through it all? Or had she awoke at some point in the morning, listening and watching, but not saying anything because his friends were present? Takeru desperately hoped against hope that it was the former.
The back of his mind whispered that he shouldn't have even let Daisuke and Ken stay. That it was a risky move. That something would happen; something bad. Did he listen to it? Hell no, he didn't.
Because of childish reasons, too. He'd been so afraid to be alone; had thought that their presence might chase away unpleasant dreams and that lingering sense of panic. But it had only made everything worse, and now he was forced to face the consequences.
The look she shot him told him that they would talk later. That either meant she would actually talk to him, or tell Yamato and his father. It wasn't the first time, after all. He knew that she'd spoke with Yamato about him before—and that hadn't ended on a good note. He shuddered on the inside. Either way, it wasn't a conversation he looked forward to.
He swallowed and then offered a shaky smile. It was something close to a shadow of the one he had shown Hikari, but he couldn't bring himself to give something more. "We better get going, if we want to get to Koushiro's at a reasonable time. Have fun on your lunch break, ok? Bye, Mom."
He kissed her lightly on the cheek and practically ran out the door as soon as he slipped his shoes on, with the others not far behind and Patamon struggling to keep a hold on his customary place on his head.
It was laughable, how fast he moved to avoid the questions. But it didn't matter. What did matter, though, was getting to the digital world.
Maybe he could find an escape, somehow. An escape that didn't include talking. Or spacing out. Or remembering.
Or cutting.
"Have you seen anything out of the ordinary yet?"
Koushiro shook his head in response to Miyako's hopeful, yet strangely dreadful tone. "No, I have nothing," he admitted reluctantly.
Miyako seemed a little put down by this. She frowned. "Not one thing?"
"I'm sorry," he replied, and leaned back in his desk chair, sighing in frustration. "It's... strange. Usually, when there are digimon attacking the human world, they leave traces of their presence everywhere. But we combed the entire city and were unable to find one thing that links the attack to the digimon we're searching for. It's... it's like some sort of ghost—always hiding in the shadows."
You don't know the half of it, Takeru commented silently, and he preferred to keep it that way.
Hikari sat on Koushiro's bed slowly, elbows on her knees, chin resting in the palm of her hand. "Are you even sure it's a digimon that initiated the attack?"
Oh, no.
Takeru froze. It was an innocuous question, but it held so much meaning, and it made his blood run cold. He was suddenly reminded of how a similar response had slipped from his lips five days prior, and the fact that Hikari was the only one to hear him made him wonder if she'd asked that question on purpose to get his attention, or to make him say something of which he had sworn to himself not to speak.
He made the mistake of meeting her eyes. So many emotions swam in her gaze. Worry. Fatigue. Suspicion. Hurt. He looked at his hands instantly, afraid because there was something she knew, but he didn't know what it was.
"What else would it be?" Daisuke asked, interrupting his thoughts with his brows raised. He was leaning against the wall adjacent to Koushiro's desk, arms crossed over his chest. A look of annoyance flitted across his features. "We've dealt with this before," he explained when they all stared at him; "and it's always been some sort of digimon or someone who was under the control of a digimon."
"Whoever it is, I have been having the same issues that Gennai has been having," Koushiro said. "However, I will keep that possibility in mind, Hikari. I suggest that everyone open their brains to it, as well, because..."
"What?" Iori asked as the computer expert trailed off, sounding afraid.
"We can take any lead we can get. I can't find anything," Koushiro finished softly, and the look of frustration that crawled across his face as he said the words made Takeru clench his fists.
Koushiro rarely became angry. But the expression on his face said he was ready to burst. Everyone waited with bated breath, and then the keeper of Knowledge said in a dangerously calm voice: "In the interest of safety, I suggest you all stay in groups of two or more. Do not travel alone. Keep your partners within your line of sight and remain in contact with everyone at all times. Later today, I will be accompanying Taichi and the others to see any clues we can find on Earth. If anyone sees anything that looks suspicious, tell me or Gennai immediately. Does everyone understand?"
Takeru nodded along with everyone else, and they sat silently when Koushiro turned back to his computer to prepare the portal to the digital world. A bright flash of light encompassed them moments later, and they passed through without a word.
Takeru took several moments to steady himself as they landed. It hadn't been as bad as the last time, but it was fairly easy to lose your balance when every part of you morphed from flesh and blood to data in a matter of seconds. When his mind finally gripped the situation, his hands raced to his head to make sure Patamon was ok, and he was relieved to find that his partner was indeed secure. Slowly, he glanced around to make sure everyone else felt the same.
"Um, guys," Daisuke started uncertainly. "Where are we?"
Miyako glanced around. "Good question."
In front of them, was a vast, open desert-looking place that stretched farther than Takeru could see. Beneath them, sand wrestled with the wind, and it was hot. Very hot. The sun beat down on them, cruel and unforgiving, with every intention of making each Chosen and their partner miserable.
"A desert?" Hawkmon spoke Takeru's thoughts, his head tilting to one side curiously. "Is this where Koushiro said we'd be?"
"No," Ken answered, sounding every bit confused as everyone else. "He said we should end up where we were last week."
Oh, god. More surprises, and with them came a wave of anxiety. Why couldn't things just go right for once? Was that too much to ask? Takeru's fingers dug into his sleeves, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before the heat started to get to him. He was so goddamn stupid. Hoped desperately—and perhaps foolishly—that no one would notice his choice of clothing.
"...messaging Koushiro right now," Iori was saying, with his d-terminal in his hands. Takeru hadn't even realized that the group began talking. He looked around nervously, but there was no point. Only a bright blue sky and sand returned his gaze.
They stood in silence for about a minute. Takeru usually didn't mind waiting, but when each second felt like hours, it made him feel even more on edge. Especially when Iori said in a somewhat panicked voice: "My message won't go through."
Uh-oh. Miyako's eyes widened in horror, an accurate representation of what Takeru felt inside. "What?"
Iori tilted his head and looked at the lavender-haired girl in a sort of strange way, with his brows knitted together and his lips curved into a solemn frown. "I said—"
"Let's just go back and try again," Daisuke interrupted with a hopeful undertone and turned on his heel to face the direction whence they came. Except his face crumbled immediately, and his lips formed one word that made Takeru feel like his food was coming up to revisit him: "Oh."
There was the television, half-buried in sand.
Glitching and emitting nothing but static.
"Well, that idea is out the window," Tailmon deadpanned, her tail twitching as she glanced up at Hikari, who Takeru just realized was standing next to him. "What now?"
Hikari blinked owlishly, appearing thoughtful as she glanced around for a second time. "Let's look for another portal."
"You're not even the least bit worried?" Miyako asked. Her tone and expression were the exact opposite of the brunette's: uneasy and afraid.
Takeru knew that being surrounded by a chasm of sand and blistering heat with no idea where to go was definitely not a good thing, and he wondered idly if Hikari was really calm and collected underneath that neutral expression or if panic was feeding on the bottom of her stomach as well.
The bearer of Hope swallowed back the lump in his throat, thinking back to when they had met Gennai in the digital world. The portal had brought Gennai straight to them, and even Koushiro couldn't find an explanation for that. So why was it, then, that the portal had brought them here? What was awaiting them now? Something was off, and his gut was telling him that it wasn't going to end well.
Then again, the digital world was many things: and predictable was not one of them. With every turn came an unpleasant surprise; a fact that was proven a thousand times over since his first adventure. None of them could anticipate what was going to come next. Takeru shouldn't have expected something different. Or at least that was what the logical half of his brain told him.
The other half whispered of sickly pale children; of horrendous, bloody nightmares; of threats written in the fog of bathroom mirrors; of blue-lipped smiles and scarred wrists...
Takeru shuddered involuntarily.
"...Hikari's right," he said after a moment, quietly, but still loud enough to capture everyone's attention. When many pairs of eyes landed on him, he explained, "Getting worked up is a waste of time. Remember that the digital world is always changing, so the best thing we can do right now is escape the heat and find another portal."
Everyone stared soundlessly as his words sank in, and within a few moments, Miyako was nodding shakily.
"Ok," she murmured before looking at her partner and asking, "Can you digivolve, Hawkmon?"
Hawkmon chirped an "of course" before he was enveloped in a cocoon of light. Seconds later, Halsemon stood there instead, and Miyako climbed onto her partner with a look of forced determination.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" she asked with a smile that seemed a little fake.
Takeru would be a hypocrite if he called her out on it.
The familiar light of digivolution surrounded all them within a matter of minutes. Takeru, clinging to Pegasusmon, suddenly found himself in the air, and was squinting to see what lay beyond miles and miles of sand. They moved in silence; the only sound being the loud rustle of the wind whipping against fur and skin and armor and clothes. Takeru was once again reminded of how much he hated the silence.
He didn't know which was worse: drowning in the sea of quiet or the haunting voices that plagued his every thought. They were a constant presence. He was dimly aware of Pegasusmon's frequent, worried glances; of the claws of wind that reached out to roughly caress his face and body. But everything else always became a blur as he became a prisoner to the chasm of a world that existed inside of him.
Last night's conversation played repeatedly in his mind in distorted fragments:
"We're your friends."
"Don't you trust us anymore?"
"You can't keep this a secret forever, Takeru."
"They deserve the truth."
"You just don't understand," he whispered aloud to himself.
"Did you say something?"
Takeru shook his head and then remembered Pegasusmon could not see the gesture, and so he said loudly: "It's nothing, buddy."
"If you say so," the mystical digimon replied, but it was obvious he could tell something was up. Of course, his partner knew more details than anyone else did, even if there was so much more that Takeru buried underneath the surface, so the blond was not surprised. But that piece of knowledge only brought guilt and shame.
It's not something you'll understand, his mind repeated, even though he could feel the walls he had spent so much time building start to tilt inward, threatening to fall. You'd get hurt. It's... it's hopeless to even attempt to explain.
As the words crossed his mind, Pegasusmon became a ball of blinding light. Takeru released the digimon's mane to block his eyes from the unpleasant sensation, and the overwhelming feeling of dread and despair were so deep that it seemed they had been permanently woven into his chest. He was falling. Down, down, down he went...
"TAKERU!"
Before his body could collide with scalding-hot sand, hands grabbed at him. Pulled hard. He heard Patamon's weak echo of his name, and he blinked several times, disoriented, realizing that Hikari and Nefertimon had caught him. Why... why had Patamon devolved?
"Are you ok?" Hikari asked instantly, the worry in her voice an open sea that reached out to drag him under.
He wasn't. He really, really wasn't. It was hot and he was tired and scared and so, so alone. The truth did not leave his mouth, however; bubbled up in the back of his throat and remained there like a cancerous lump. But soon Nefertimon touched the ground, and his friends were closing in on him.
"I'm fine," he murmured, his gaze wandering elsewhere. That look had returned in Hikari's eyes, and his bricks were threatening to topple over one another. His walls were bending. Bending. Bending.
"Yeah, sure." Daisuke's voice dripped with sarcasm, and he sounded concerned and angry at the same time. "To hell with that, Takeru. We need to talk. Now."
Breaking.