Author's note: This was not my best. I almost dont' want to post it. But my writing's not been great lately in general, and I just wanted to force myself to write through it and get you guys one update before the summer's over. I'm extremely sorry for the delay. This story just got... a little too heavy for me with all the things that have been going on. And college starts at the end of next month, so we'll soon find out just how badly college life slams me and my writing time (outside of classwork, because I'm a Professional Writing major). As always, PM me with anything you'd like to see within the story. This will quite possibly become my "I don't know what they want me to do for this class and I'm about to crack" escape line again.

It was quiet.

The television was on, and Daisuke was talking – rather loudly, at that – but it was still... quiet. Hikari wasn't saying anything, but staring at whatever was on TV in a way that made Daisuke and Takeru both suspect that she wasn't really seeing it. And Takeru was watching her with a calculating intensity that Daisuke didn't like – he was never as good at reading Hikari's expression as Takeru was, and often had to rely on her slip-ups to provide him with the facade of intimate knowledge about her. Not that he'd ever admit it, even to himself, but he knew a different Hikari than Takeru did. His best friend wasn't the same as Takeru's best friend, and it was that which irritated him more than he even understood.

But Daisuke kept talking as a way to pass the time, appearing oblivious to Takeru's disinterest and Hikari's wandering attention span, to the fact that Takeru's expression was dark with irritation. Maybe he wasn't entirely oblivious to the latter, for it always gave him an eyedropper full of satisfaction when it came to Hikari. Childish? Yes. Did that make him feel bad for it? No, not really.

Another knock at the door made Daisuke pause briefly in his running commentary – largely about the soccer game the kids he co-coached at the primary school had won – before rambling on again. His words, however, weren't enough to disguise the irritated sigh that Takeru was too slow to catch before it escaped his lips. But he didn't have to get up to get the door; Miyako opened it mere seconds after knocking, as though the precursor action had been merely a formality. She came to a stop in front of the television screen, causing Hikari to shake herself from her reverie. After all, she was suddenly staring not at whatever they had left the channel on, but a fistful of bags that Miyako was carrying in each hand.

"Gifts! From yours truly – with a little help from Ai Mart," she added with a small grin, raising her arms a little to make sure they saw the bags.

Hikari blinked. Daisuke looked at her, trying to see what Takeru was frowning at. She looked as though she had only just woken up, like she had been sleeping with her eyes open. She seemed to do that a lot, when he was over. If you didn't talk to her directly, she sort of... drifted off, like she wasn't entirely there like she used to be. He didn't want to call attention to it, knowing her well enough to know that she'd deny it or say that her head hurt, some sort of answer that everyone would expect and accept without much question. And he could never really tell when she was lying.

"You really didn't have to, Miyako," Hikari said, raising her eyes from the bags to Miyako's visage.

"I know. That's what makes me so great." She winked, and giggled. "No, really though. I wanted to. Mom didn't even make me pay... at least, not right away," Miyako added with a small frown, as though she wasn't entirely sure yet.

"Where's my food then," Daisuke demanded, although he wasn't very serious. He caught the shadow of the label of the jelly-fruit cup things Hikari liked for a reason beyond his understanding, because he personally found jelly cups to be disgusting. But he was getting a little desperate for someone to retaliate with him in a conversation. Talking to Takeru and Hikari had been like conversing with a brick wall, and Daisuke was getting a little antsy.

"At the store. Go buy it," she replied without missing a beat, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Our friendship isn't even worth an egg salad," Daisuke asked, looking offended.

Miyako just smiled sweetly at him and set the bags down on the coffee table. She didn't answer him. "I've got snacks, hot drinks, cold drinks, salads, anything and everything a la Hikari," she added in a more affectionate tone than she had used when addressing Daisuke. Hikari smiled again, the way someone smiles at a birthday party throughout the gift-opening part. Daisuke wasn't sure she was entirely feeling the gratitude.

"Thanks, Miyako," she said diplomatically. She sounded tired.

"How're you feeling," she asked. Bed-side manner, Daisuke realized. That was why she sounded nicer. Miyako had never been very good at acting like nothing was wrong for the sake of the dynamic.

Hikari only shrugged in response, and then tried to lean forward to poke through the bags – a distraction from the direction the conversation was taking, Daisuke suspected. She tried to suppress it, but even Daisuke saw her wince, and he put a hand on her shoulder to gently push her back into the couch.

"Here: we've got peppermint tea, hot chocolate, okyakodon domburi – my mom actually made that for lunch, and it was really good so I packaged some –, vanilla ice Koala no March, Kasugai kompeito candy, ...a whole lot of other candies, and some other stuff." She paused. "I'll put it away for you; Takeru, can you help me?"

"Sure," he shrugged, getting to his feet. Daisuke, however, looked offended.

"I could help."

"You'd drop something," Miyako scoffed, but she tousled his hair as she passed him. He scowled and ran his hand over his hair (as though it made any difference) while Hikari giggled. It was hard to stay irritated when it made Hikari smiled. It was so hard lately, getting her to do that – genuinely, not the fake crap that she thought sounded genuine.

"I'll help," he repeated stubbornly, pushing passed Takeru. But Takeru didn't argue with him; he just stepped back and let Daisuke pass; his frown went unnoticed. Daisuke followed Miyako into the kitchen area of the Yagami residence, which was separated from the living room by only a half-wall that was part of the counter space.

"Takeru, I was –" she began, but she broke off mid-sentence when she saw spiky brown hair instead of messy blond. "Daisuke," Miyako sighed, "I told you, you don't have to –"

"No," Daisuke argued stubbornly. "You said I can't."

"Which means you have to," she sighed, shaking her head. "Of course."

"Duh," Daisuke scoffed. Miyako rolled her eyes.

"Since when do you volunteer for work," she teased, although she didn't sound very interested in waiting for an answer. She had already turned to the food, unloading the bags' contents onto the countertop.

"I like to keep things fresh," Daisuke replied loftily.

Miyako looked up at him to grin. "Of course." She tossed him a can of soda. "If you're here to help, put that in the fridge, huh? It's a surprise," she added with an overly dramatic wink.

"What's a surprise," Hikari called warily.

Miyako giggled. "Nothing!"

Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Loser."

"Goggle-headed freak."

"Geek."

"Whatever."

Miyako stuck her tongue out, and Daisuke smirked. He took her lack of insults as a sign of victory in his favor, and he leaned smugly against the fridge door while Miyako turned her back to him and began piling the boxes of tea and hot chocolate that she had brought into a seemingly randomly selected cabinet. Daisuke raised an eyebrow.

"Oi. Miyako."

"What , Daisuke," she snapped, not looking over her shoulder.

"There are cups in that cabinet," he pointed out, perhaps a bit unnecessarily. She paused with her hand holding a box in midair to turn and stare at him.

"So?"

"So... nothing," he mumbled, shaking his head. He decided to skip the fight, this time around. Taichi could fix it later, right? That, or Miyako was going to realign the corner of the box she was holding with Daisuke's head. And he'd kind of, you know, rather she not.

Besides, something distracted him: a small giggle from the living room that barely carried over the sound of the television playing. Daisuke straightened up, like a puppy hearing a bag of food rattle across the apartment. He suddenly looked alert, suspicious, and slightly irritated.

"What do you think they're talking about," he asked, although he wasn't really expecting Miyako to answer. He leaned his elbows on the counter and rested his weight against them, watching Hikari and Takeru with narrowed eyes. Miyako spared him a brief glance before going back to putting things away, sighing loudly in that way that always let Daisuke know that she thought he was being silly – and in a way that he always chose to ignore, because he was convinced she was wrong.

"He's just trying to cheer her up. She needs it," she said breezily, but the fact that she lowered her voice so that she wouldn't be overheard dampened the intended casualness of her tone. Daisuke frowned.

"He's leaning really close," he said skeptically, "don't you think? He can cheer her up without whispers. Hey," he added, louder this time so that Takeru would hear him. Hikari tried to turn her neck and winced, and Takeru put a steadying, comforting hand on her shoulder that made Daisuke's blood boil with jealousy.

"Sup, Daisuke."

"Secrets, secrets, are no fun –" he began in a mocking voice, but he yelped as Miyako chucked the bag of hard candies at the back of his head.

"Oi! What was that for?" he demanded, turning round to glare at her. She scowled, hands on her hips.

"Leave 'em alone," she hissed. He rolled his eyes and turned his back to her. Takeru was looking at him with an exasperated frown, but Daisuke pretended not to notice.

"Make me."

She smiled, a dangerously sweet smile that actually succeeded at sending shivers down Daisuke's spine. But it was too late to take the challenge back. She crumpled up the plastic bags and tossed them in the wastebasket before linking her arm through his. She yanked Daisuke along before he could register what was going on.

"I forgot, we promised Ken we'd stop by his soccer practice," she called out cheerfully, pinching Daisuke's arm when he opened his mouth to question these so-called plans.

"Ow," he hissed. She pinched him again, and he bit his lip to keep his trap shut.

"Oh, really," Hikari asked, frowning slightly. "Tell Ken I said hello," Hikari asked.

"Of course!"

"Same here," Takeru said. He had frowned too, when Hikari had, but something... didn't set right. He looked almost relieved, Daisuke thought. And he had to resist the urge to break out of Miyako's stranglehold on his arm and go plop himself right in the middle of the couch. But, as though sensing this, Miyako began tugging him towards the door.

But then Hikari added, "I'm actually really tired. I think I'm going to take a little nap..."

"Cool, can I control the remote," Daisuke asked before he could stop himself. Miyako glared at him.

"Dummy, I just said we're going to see Ken!"

"Oh. Right," he mumbled. "Nevermind."

"You should go with them, Takeru," Hikari suggested kindly. And Takeru's frown took on a different quality: one that almost worried Daisuke, if he had time to register it more – for Miyako was dragging him towards the hall, and barely paused long enough for him to stuff his feet into his shoes.

"No," they could hear him saying faintly as they opened the door to leave. "Taichi asked me to keep you company."

"But you don't have to, really..."

And then Miyako nudged the door shut with her hip, and finally let go of Daisuke's arm so that she could frown at him properly: sternly and disapprovingly, with her hands on her hips as though she were his mother.

"Eavesdropping's a really bad habit, you know. So is obsession. And paranoia," she added, ticking them off on her fingers. Daisuke rolled his eyes, but although he could tell she was expecting some failing-to-be-witty retort, he wasn't really feeling it. He was looking over his shoulder as they began walking down the hall and towards the elevator, frowning as the door grew smaller and smaller.

"Are they fighting," he inquired curiously. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe. Hikari hasn't mentioned anything."

No, Daisuke thought. She wouldn't. "Huh. So... We're really meeting Ken?"

"Yeah. He doesn't know we're going though."

"Good. I didn't know we were going either. I'm not the only one out of the loop."

"Oh, shut up," she said, smacking his arm as he pressed the button to summon the elevator. Daisuke feigned a dramatic wince as the doors opened and they stepped inside.

"Can I get that egg salad now?"