a/n: akl;jrwelkrja ok i'm sorry again for the lack of responses to reviews, but please know I am reading them and seeing them and appreciative of them! last week was super busy, but this is another chapter of ~ ~ and angst so hopefully, you all enjoy!

tw: accidental self-harm, night terrors/sleepwalking, mentions of past trauma/anxiety.

Ch 10 || Intermission (Can You See the Strings?)

Yamato's heart was still pounding when they got home. From anxiety or exertion, he wasn't sure.

As he'd expected, Takeru had been curious as to why Patamon and Gabumon had followed, and Yamato didn't have the heart to lie to him again. So he just told him that it was a precaution, and thankfully, Takeru didn't push it.

It was mid-afternoon at this point, and they'd walked out in the heat again from Koushiro's place. Takeru had, for some reason, declined another ride—including Yamato's motorized scooter, although he'd seemed alright the day their mother had told him to stop by—and Yamato refused to let him walk alone.

Yamato supposed he'd have to start writing down a list, with all the things he needed to talk to his brother about. He hoped they could have a discussion soon.

If they didn't, it would probably eat him alive.

"What do you want for supper, kiddo?" Yamato asked as they slipped off their shoes.

Takeru glanced at him worriedly. "You're not too tired to cook?"

Truthfully, he was exhausted. His legs ached from the walk and his mind refused to give him a break. But Takeru's diet had suffered for far too long—he couldn't let him go hungry, and Takeru was only just now learning how to cook for himself.

"I'm fine," Yamato said, lips twitching with his best smile.

"That's your 'I'm dead on my feet' smile."

"Yeah?" Yamato raised a brow. "What makes you say that?"

"I'm your brother," Takeru replied, with a proud little smirk of his own. "Besides… Mom's always tired. It's kind of easy to pick up on."

"Let me worry about me." He wasn't going to admit how much that stung. "I promise I'm fine."

"You're looking rather pale, Yamato," Gabumon pointed out.

"And sweaty," Patamon chirped from on Takeru's head.

Yamato shot them both a look that very clearly said, Whose side are you on?

"It's 'cause we walked home, isn't it?" Takeru's smirk was gone in a heartbeat. "I'm sorry, Nii-san. You didn't have to walk with me."

It was almost an invitation. An opportunity. Yamato leaned against the wall by the door, shoving his hands into his jean pockets. Then, as casually as he was able: "Why don't you tell me about that?"

"Tell you about what?"

"Why you're suddenly afraid of vehicles."

"I'm not afraid of vehicles," Takeru said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"Yeah? Then what is it?"

Takeru walked past him almost gracefully but didn't look at him. "If I tell you, you'll laugh at me."

"Takeru, I will absolutely not laugh at you," Yamato said, pushing himself off the wall to follow him.

"Yes, you will."

"I won't."

"And I won't, either," Patamon promised earnestly, now fluttering in the air.

"Same here," Gabumon said.

"It's really stupid," Takeru said, almost nonchalantly. "Not really worth discussing."

"Takeru, it's bad enough that you chose to walk in almost ninety-degree weather," Yamato tried to reason. "If you tell me… maybe I can help."

Takeru sighed but still didn't face Yamato. Instead, he walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, and then another. "...the wind freaked me out."

Yamato blinked. "The… the wind?"

"When Dad rolled down the window," he clarified as he filled both cups with water. Walked over to the table, still averting his gaze, and set the glass down in front of Yamato. Yamato hummed his thank you as he raised it to get a drink, and Takeru continued, "We were going kinda fast, and it was… it was so loud in my ears. It freaked me out."

"How come?" Patamon asked.

Takeru was quiet for a few moments. "Remember… when you were fighting Kuwagamon, and you dove to avoid getting hit?"

Yamato blinked once more in confusion, but Patamon nodded as he perched himself on the table. "Yeah?"

"It… it freaked me out, too. The wind was so loud, and I thought… I thought, 'cause we were going straight down, that I might fall…"

He shuddered, like the very memory disturbed him, and placed his cup on the table without even taking a drink.

"Takeru, I wouldn't have let you fall," Patamon said.

But he… he did fall… Yamato thought, struggling to put the pieces together that Takeru was laying out for him. Today. Didn't he?

"I know," Takeru mumbled. "I know you wouldn't, but… but it still scared me. It was just so sudden. My hands are tingling just thinking about it."

"And the wind… reminded you of that?" Gabumon asked gently.

"...yeah, it did. I—I didn't expect it to, but… but Dad's window was down, and the wind—it was loud, and I felt like I was… I was back there, and—and then I was nauseous—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Yamato said, setting the cup down again as he focused on Takeru. But he paused, hands hovering over Takeru's shoulders. "It's… Takeru… you're shaking."

Takeru laughed, but the sound was self-deprecating. Hollow. "It's so stupid. I've been in the air a bunch of times. I rode on Nefertimon today, and I couldn't even look down. I don't know why this bothers me so much."

"I don't think it's stupid," Gabumon said.

"Neither do I," Yamato said. "Did… did it happen when you were on my scooter, back when we went to Mom's?"

A pause. Takeru looked at the floor, like he knew that was where Yamato's heart had plummeted.

"I would have stopped for you," Yamato said. "It wouldn't have bothered me at all."

"It's not a big deal," Takeru whispered.

"I'm sorry I caused you to stress, Takeru," Patamon said mournfully. "When I dove, I only wanted to keep you safe. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know you didn't, Pata." Takeru's voice was still shaky and he didn't look up from the floor as he spoke, but the words were gentle and soft nonetheless. "That's why I didn't… I didn't want to tell anyone. I'll probably get over it."

"Sometimes," Yamato began carefully, fingers coming down very slowly to rest on Takeru's shoulders, "...when we go through pretty scary stuff, it leaves a lasting impression. It can make us feel like we're stuck. It's not silly or stupid, Takeru. You went through something traumatic. Of course it'll affect you deeply."

Yamato tried incredibly hard not to blame himself. A lot of traumas that Takeru had faced were beyond his control—and yet it felt like it was his fault. If he had been paid more attention that day when Mirrormon appeared, Takeru and his partner wouldn't have been left alone. If he had found him sooner, Mirrormon wouldn't have made him a target. If he'd protected him better during their time in the digital world in general…

...would he have ended up suffering like this?

He'd meant it when he said that the digital world had played a significant role in shaping Takeru as a person, and he knew about the occasional nightmares and insomnia. He knew, though he'd never mentioned it aloud, that Takeru struggled deeply with abandonment, and even that was his fault.

What a piece of shit brother he was.

I'm sorry I failed you, Takeru, he thought, fingers tightening on Takeru's shoulders. I'm sorry you're suffering.

Out loud: "Do you… have flashbacks like that frequently?"

Takeru looked up at him then, eyes webbed and uncertain but also so very confused. "Flashbacks?"

"That's what… they sound like to me," Yamato answered. "I get them, too, sometimes."

"...you do?"

It came out a whisper. Yamato nodded. "We were all so young when we went to the digital world. We saw some pretty scary stuff, so… so it makes sense. Puppets still give me the creeps."

A thread of humor entered Takeru's gaze and a croaky giggle left his lips. "I never liked them, either."

He wasn't going to tell Takeru that a lot of things that scared him in the digital world had been because he had come dangerously close to becoming an only child, more than once. That piece of knowledge frightened him more than he was willing to admit.

"Yeah, they're totally freaky, aren't they?" Yamato said out loud, lips twitching again with a smirk.

"Totally. And Pinocchimon…" Takeru shuddered again. "He scared the crap out of me. So creepy. But you and Gabumon took him down."

Gabumon's cheeks went a little pink. "We had help."

"We did," Yamato agreed and looked at Patamon. "You pack quite a big punch, little guy."

Patamon beamed at him with pride. "All in a day's work."

Yamato turned his attention back to his brother. "I know that we can't exactly talk to people about the digital world. They'd probably think we're crazy. But there are things we can do to help. You know that, right? You don't have to walk everywhere for the rest of your life."

"Hikari is never gonna let me ride on Nefertimon again," Takeru said with another throaty giggle. "I held onto her for dear life."

"I'm sure she would have said something if she was uncomfortable," Gabumon said.

"I think she knew it, though," Takeru persisted. "She kept trying to distract me."

Yamato arched a single brow. "Oh?"

"Yeah, like, she kept talking to me like she knew I was nervous."

He squeezed Takeru's shoulders again before taking a step back. It seemed the tremors had calmed now, at least. "Well… if you ever have a problem, tell me, ok? We'll get through it."

Takeru looked up at him again, all sincerity and gratitude. "You're a good brother, Nii-san."

Yamato laughed and shook his head. "I doubt that."

"Why? You put up with me."

"I don't 'put up' with you," Yamato said instantly. "I told you, it's my job to look after you."

"You're really the best, Nii-san."

"Nah. Everyone decided I'm the cranky one, didn't they?"

"Yeah, well, you're not everyone's brother."

Yamato almost snorted. "Yeah. Thank god. You're the only one that I want to call my sibling."

"...you wouldn't want anyone else, if you had to choose?"

"Of course I wouldn't."

He said the words without hesitation, and then Takeru was quiet. So quiet that it coaxed Yamato to look back at him, and he blinked in alarm when he saw that Takeru's eyes were glistening with tears.

"Hey, what's wrong? You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Takeru said, blinking several times and looking away. "You're, um. You're the best, Nii-san."

Yamato's expression softened again. His hand came to rest on the top of Takeru's head. Repeated in a whisper, "Nah."

A silence ensued, but it wasn't uncomfortable or awkward. Though it didn't last long before Yamato sighed. "You hungry?"

"Nii-san, you really shouldn't push yourself to cook," Takeru said. "I can tell you're tired."

"You can, huh?"

"It's kind of written all over your face. You've even got bags under your eyes."

"I do not," Yamato said indignantly. "I don't get bags."

"Actually, I see them, too," Patamon said.

Again. Whose side are you on?

Accepting his fate, Yamato sighed in defeat. "I'm sure we've got something in the fridge that I can just heat up."

"That's fine with me," Takeru said. "Just make sure you sit down soon."

"I'm fine."

He wasn't. He was so tired he thought about canceling his next rehearsal.

"I'm your brother. It's my job to look after you," Takeru echoed with that same proud, tiny smirk.

"Using my own words against me. That stings a bit, Teek."

"Gabumon, make sure he sits down, please?" And then: "...hey, Nii-san?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I take a shower before supper?"

"Go for it," Yamato said instantly and had to bite his tongue before he asked Patamon to tag along. Could he be blamed, though, for fretting when so many unnerving things had happened to Takeru in such a short amount of time? "I'll be out here if you need anything."

"Sitting down, hopefully," Takeru said with a pointed look.

Yamato sighed dramatically and pulled back a chair. "I'm sitting down."

"Do you need me for anything?" Patamon asked Takeru.

"Nah. I won't take long," Takeru said.

He disappeared into their bedroom presumably to get a fresh pair of clothes, and Yamato reached for his cup of water again. Maybe he should have made Takeru drink his own before he showered, but his earlier words echoed in his mind again and he decided to, instead, remind him when he finished.

"Yamato?" Gabumon whispered when Takeru was out of earshot.

"Hmm?"

"You're really worried about him, aren't you?"

Even Patamon turned to look at him. "Is that why you asked us to stay?"

Yamato sipped his water slowly. Inhaled just as slowly to gather his thoughts. "Something's going on with him. I'll fill you in when he's in the shower, ok?"

Both digimon nodded, and although he knew it needed to be done, he dreaded having to retell Takeru's bizarre behavior, especially the sleepwalking and fitful nights.

He took another sip of his water and swallowed. And another. He didn't realize just how thirsty he was until it was gone, and Patamon and Gabumon even looked concerned, considering Patamon offered to refill his cup.

He wondered, not for the first time, when this summer would become less stressful.

Despite his exhaustion, Yamato had trouble getting to sleep. His mind refused to slow down. Refused to give him anything that resembled peace.

He kept thinking of Takeru's confessions. One after another, they played in his head, so many times that they were permanently engraved in his brain. It didn't help that he'd been forced to retell the same story to the digimon that he'd already explained far too many times than he wanted to.

Cuddled up with Patamon, Takeru seemed a little more at ease, though Yamato caught the way he shuffled and twisted under the blanket. It wasn't until Yamato whispered for Gabumon to join them that Takeru finally settled down, but Yamato's mind was still whirling.

He wasn't sure when he finally drifted off. He must have been up for at least an hour or two, and he tried his best to keep still so he wouldn't disturb Takeru's rest, but in doing so, he must have relaxed to the point where sleeping finally became appealing to him.

It didn't last long, though. Takeru's panicked, startled yelp catapulted him from slumber so startlingly fast that his heart felt as if it had broken through muscle and bone to reach the other side of his chest.

"Takeru?" he whispered immediately, bug-eyed. "What is it?"

A hasty shuffling sound was his answer. Like he was trying to get the blankets off. Yamato sat up, blindly groping for the lamp switch on Takeru's lamp. It took about ten seconds of awkward fumbling, and by then, Patamon and Gabumon were hopping off the bed and expressing extreme concern.

"Teek," Yamato said, urgently this time. Takeru was kicking at the blankets like they were physical beings that had trapped him, and he was whimpering uncontrollably. "Takeru, hey… shh… what's going on? What're you—"

"Let me out," Takeru choked out, almost like he wanted to scream but couldn't quite figure out how. "L-let me out… it's dark down here! It's dark!"

"Is he having a nightmare?" Patamon asked fretfully.

Takeru's eyes were closed. Yamato's stomach churned with unease and fright as he kicked his own blanket off, racing clumsily around the bed to reach his brother. Placed his hands on Takeru's fists, which were punching haphazardly at the fabric of his covers.

"I'm right here," Yamato said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "Hey. Takeru, can you hear me? Can you hear my voice?"

"Please…" Takeru begged in desperation. "Please let me out… can't see… it's dark…!"

"Help me get the blanket off," Yamato ordered the two digimon who just stared in horror.

"Right," Gabumon said, recovering swiftly.

It was difficult because Takeru kept thrashing around. Every time Yamato reached for a fistful of fabric, Takeru shoved him away. Mumbled the same distressed plea over and over again like it was some kind of prayer that could keep him safe. Scratched and panted.

"Takeru, buddy," Yamato tried again, as the blanket finally came off, "please listen to me. You gotta wake up… everything's alright, Takeru, I promise…"

Takeru sat up, eyes opening wide and the look on his face was immeasurably haunting.

Tendrils of red swirled in his irises like thick, bloody ribbons. His skin was alarmingly pale, and he looked at Yamato like he didn't even see him.

He's asleep.

"My word," Gabumon said. "Yamato… his eyes are…"

Yamato was so bewildered and surprised by the sight that it trapped him in a daze. He sat frozen and saucer-eyed on the bed as he stared, and it wasn't until Takeru's hands pushed him forcefully away with a sob that he was able to move again.

"Takeru," Patamon cried out as he chased after him.

"Go, go, go," Yamato said to Gabumon, standing on unstable legs as he ran out as well. Takeru moved like he was being followed by something Yamato couldn't see. He bumped one of the chairs as he ran, stumbling a bit, but recovered before Yamato's hands could grab him.

"Takeru," Patamon cried again.

A door opened, but it wasn't the apartment door—though that seemed exactly where Takeru was headed. His father's voice said, "What's going on?"

"Sleepwalking," Yamato said, not even bothering to turn around and face him. He reached the door right as Takeru jostled the knob, and Yamato thanked whatever divine being that existed above that it was locked.

Except Takeru's next idea was to scratch at it like his fingernails were sharp and strong enough to break through solid wood.

"Takeru, no," Yamato said. "Stop… stop, it's ok… it's alright…"

"It's so dark," Takeru sobbed. "Let me out… let me out!"

"Turn on the light," Yamato said to his father, while he tried frantically to restrain Takeru so he wouldn't hurt himself. He also didn't want to make it worse, especially because Takeru's body was moving in jarring, jerky movements. Like something was trying its best to control him but Takeru refused to give in.

His father obeyed before rushing over to help him, and Takeru scratched at Yamato's hands with enough force to make him hiss in pain.

He pounded on the door.

He scratched on the door.

He sobbed and begged and fought and screamed. God, his scream… it was like listening to someone being brutally, mercilessly tortured. Every basic, instinctive part of Yamato ached, hearing that sound. Like it was a physical weapon that tore through his insides with the force of a bomb on the peak of explosion.

It was a sound that completely, irreparably decimated him from the inside.

"Takeru, please," Yamato pleaded brokenly, grabbing his brother's wrists as gently and as firmly as he could, but it was hard when his own body was shaking. "Stop… you're hurting yourself… Teek…"

His father's hands cupped Takeru's shoulders. Takeru cried out like he'd been burnt, and he hiccuped and wept, arms twitching against Yamato's hold.

"Nii-san…" Takeru sobbed, squirming and hiccupping. "...Nii-san… I can't… he's after me…"

"Who, Takeru?" Patamon asked in a wobbly voice.

Yamato's grip tightened ever-so-slightly, coaxing his now cracked and bleeding fingers away from the door.

"I'm right here." His voice trembled. "Can't you hear me, Takeru?"

"I want out," Takeru repeated. "Nii-san… I'm trapped… it's dark down here… please…"

"Dad turned on the light," Yamato told him. "You're alright, Teek. It'll be alright. Shh… shh…"

His father released Takeru's shoulders as Takeru's knees buckled, and his hands swiftly moved to under his arms to catch him but Yamato said, "I-it's fine. I got him."

"Yamato," his father said, almost exasperatedly. "You're wearing yourself out."

Yamato's arm swept around the small of Takeru's back, effectively slowing his fall. "We need bandages. He's bleeding."

A brief pause. A sigh. "...alright. I'll get the kit."

Yamato didn't respond. Takeru hiccuped again but didn't speak, either. Trembled and wept silently. Croaked out his brother's name, his voice hoarse most likely from screaming.

Yamato's chin came to rest on the top of Takeru's head, and he continued to shush him as his sobs grew quieter and quieter. Gabumon and Patamon crowded around them, staring at Takeru anxiously and worriedly.

Slowly, slowly, the tremors in Takeru's body calmed. And gently, gently, Yamato uncurled his fists to reveal bruised, cracked knuckles. His fingernails were chipped and broken.

"You've really done a number on yourself, haven't you?" Yamato murmured, and then, experimentally: "Teek?"

No answer.

"Takeru? Hey, Takeru?"

Nothing.

"His eyes are closing," Gabumon told him. "Kind of like he's fighting it."

"We need to clean him up," came his father's voice. "I'll… I'll call your mother later. We'll discuss this."

"I've never heard him scream like that," Yamato whispered, remaining motionless. "At least last time… he acknowledged me."

His father was quiet for several moments. Then: "He probably won't remember it when he wakes up."

"What're we supposed to do? He'll wonder what the hell happened to his hands."

"Can't we just tell him the truth?" Patamon asked.

Yamato kept his eyes stubbornly on the door through which Takeru had tried to escape. He worked his jaw repeatedly, his mind whirling once again. They couldn't hide it much longer, not with physical evidence. And… and his eyes…

With a sigh, his father slid between the two boys and the door, crouching down to inspect Takeru's wounds for himself. "I'll fix him up, alright? Already washed my hands. Just… keep him still. Keep him relaxed."

"Planned on it."

Suddenly Takeru seemed so young. Way younger than thirteen. Takeru was practically in his lap, back to his chest, with Yamato's chin on his head and one hand still closed around his wrist.

"You saw his eyes, didn't you?"

His father had already cleaned and bandaged two of Takeru's fingers. Looked up at him fleetingly with his brows raised. Yamato didn't meet his gaze; instead, his eyes remained fixed on the webs of blue and purple and red on Takeru's hands. Dried blood and bruises that were sure to get worse. "I didn't. He was faced away from me the whole time."

Yamato hummed. Of course.

"I saw them," Gabumon murmured. "They… they looked like—"

"Don't say it."

Gabumon quieted obediently, and even Patamon stayed silent. His father looked up at him quizzically. "What is it?"

"It's nothing," Yamato muttered.

"Yamato…" Gabumon hedged.

"It's not him. It can't be him."

"What can't be him?" his father pressed.

Yamato had seen little threads. Had seen sparks of red in his brother's usually startlingly blue eyes. He'd always thought it was his imagination. That exhaustion had blurred the line between real and hallucination. But… but he couldn't explain it now, not when crimson overwhelmed blue so completely.

"Look, son," his father persisted, sighing as Yamato watched his every move. He was disinfecting Takeru's other hand now. "I didn't mention it when I came home earlier, and… and not that your friends aren't welcome here. But… I've played this game before. They don't usually come here unless something's… wrong."

"We're figuring it out," Yamato said shortly, refusing to look at him. Watched as his dad smeared antibiotic cream on Takeru's right index finger.

"You're certain it doesn't explain your brother's recent… episodes?"

"It can't be."

"...it could be," Patamon mumbled. "He was in that forest by himself."

"And whose fault was that?"

For a moment, Patamon seemed so incredibly distraught and shattered by the accusation that regret pierced through Yamato's body. Patamon lowered himself to the floor, ears drooping to the ground. "I… I just wanted to protect him…"

Yamato cursed under his breath. "Wait. No. I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry." Patamon didn't look up, and his voice was filled with remorse. "It's my fault."

"It's not," Yamato said. "You did your best. I was the one who didn't look after him like I should have."

"Yamato, you mustn't blame yourself," Gabumon whispered. "It simply happened—no one is at fault."

An exasperated sigh. "I've no clue what's going on here. But whatever it is, it's… bad, isn't it?"

Yamato stared hollowly at Takeru's freshly-bandaged fingers. 'Bad' didn't even come close to describing this. Everything was spiraling out of control and seemed fine at the same time. Each almost-answer that they could find ended up leading to more unsolved mysteries and more questions.

Finally, reluctantly, Yamato admitted, "I don't know."

A knock on the door made all four of them jump. Takeru stirred in Yamato's arms, and Patamon and Gabumon rushed to hide as Yamato wondered how the heck he was supposed to move away from the apartment door for his father to answer it without waking Takeru.

"Nn…" Takeru's eyelids fluttered. "...Nii-san?"

Winded. Scratchy. That was how it came out, and another knock followed when his father turned around and used the doorknob to get to his feet with a grunt.

"Shhh," Yamato soothed, trying to ignore the way his heart dropped. He hadn't had time to process anything that had just happened—no way could he piece it together for his brother. "We're going to bed, 'k?"

"Mm." Takeru's body remained boneless. "My… my throat hurts…"

"S'ok, buddy. We'll worry 'bout it later."

"M'tired."

Carefully, hesitantly, Yamato shifted Takeru's weight, hooking an arm under Takeru's knees, and put all of his own into his legs so he could push them both up. He teetered slightly, but his father was there to grab his arm, giving him an uncertain look before Yamato whispered to Takeru, "Time for bed, yeah?"

Takeru hummed sluggishly as his head lulled in toward his chest. Yamato turned vigilantly, just as his father opened the door.

He was fairly certain he heard the words 'officer' and 'disturbance.' Yamato's eyes narrowed, figuring one of their neighbors must have contacted authorities after hearing all the noise.

Part of Yamato was sorely, deeply offended. Maybe it was the grumpy, exhausted part of him that just wanted everything to stop. He was so tired that his head was pounding, and his eyes ached.

As if he'd ever do something to Takeru to make him produce such a blood-curdling scream. The sound alone was enough to haunt him for weeks. He couldn't imagine hurting Takeru at all.

The other part wasn't all that surprised. If… if he heard someone screaming just like Takeru had screamed, wouldn't he assume that something was wrong as well? That something unspeakable was happening within the walls of—

"Son," his father called in a hushed voice, effectively silencing that train of thought.

Yamato placed Takeru gently on his mattress, where Patamon and Gabumon sat patiently, and scowled irritably at his dad. "What?"

"Someone called it in," he said with a sigh. "They want to talk to you."

"We'll watch over him," Gabumon vowed, fixing the blanket to cover Takeru.

Patamon snuggled up to Takeru's abdomen. "Leave it to us."

Yamato pinched the bridge of his nose. Muttered under his breath, "I'm not in the mood for this shit."

The only reason he walked to the door with so much as an ounce of self-control was that he didn't want to risk waking Takeru. The only reason he didn't yank the door open and shout a string of obscenities at the officers was that it might have scared him.

They'd been woken up enough by arguments, often containing curse words and raised voices.

"What do you need?" Yamato hissed through clenched teeth. "If you so much as mention me or Dad laying a finger on my brother…"

"We're just following up on a complaint," one of the officers stated. "Your… your father said it was a night terror that caused all the screaming?"

His heart was pounding. His body ached and throbbed and begged for him to climb back into bed and pass out. And yet he was standing at the door, talking to people he'd rather not talk to, at who knew what time it was.

His hand was shaking on the knob when he finished verifying his father's story. It probably only took a few minutes, but the seconds inched by so slowly. It felt like an aching eternity had passed before the officers finally bid him good night.

"I'll call your mother in the morning," his dad repeated to him as he made it back to his room. "Get some rest."

Yamato grunted without looking at him, practically stumbling to his bed before climbing into it.

Sluggishly, he grabbed his cell from his nightstand and searched for at least one of his bandmates' names. Looked at Takeru, at his partner and Patamon, and typed without checking for mistakes: Cant make it to practice tomorrow, smth came up. Reschedule?

Sent.

His eyes were so heavy and his body was so exhausted that he could have just put his phone back on the nightstand next to Takeru's new one, but instead searched for Taichi's name.

Hey. We gotta talk abt Takeru. Happened again.

His fingers hovered over his keyboard. Hovered. The last thing he wanted right now was to admit that something was wrong with his little brother, or that it was connected, somehow, to the digimon they were currently hunting. The last thing he wanted to do was head back to the digital world and relive the events that were painfully fresh in his mind.

His thumb moved to hover over the 'back' key to exit the chat.

Discard?

But if it could stop Takeru's suffering… what if, despite how badly he didn't want to accept it, this behavior was really linked to Mirrormon, and his denial only made things worse?

His thumb moved again. Tapped.

Sent.

Yamato put the phone down. Faced his younger brother, dread pumping through him alongside fatigue. Patamon was still curled up by Takeru's abdomen, and Gabumon watched the two of them obediently.

"He looks so peaceful now," Gabumon observed quietly.

Yamato hummed. His hand moved on its own to ruffle Takeru's hair. Murmured, "You're really scaring the shit out of me, kid."