Recommended companion readings: Evenings ch. 12-14 by S. Walden.

And if we're victims of the night

I won't be blinded by the light

2007

Joe leaned back in his chair, stretching with a long yawn. His arm still twinged with pain every so often, and it had healed fairly straight, but if he ran his thumb over it, he could feel a mild bump on the bone where his father had thrown him against the wall in the last few weeks of healing, jarring it just so. He set his glasses aside and rubbed his tired eyes, accidentally smearing ink across the bridge of his nose.

Down the hall, locked in her own bedroom, he could hear his mother still screaming at the top of her lungs. She'd begun that morning in her usual depressed state, comatose on the couch as Joe left for school. When he'd come back after cram school, bookbag filled with college mock-exams, she was pacing in the living room, mumbling under her breath. Right as he set his bag down in his room, as he was contemplating sneaking in a phone call to Cody to congratulate him on entering middle school, Joanne had screamed. Despite the thick walls, Joe knew the neighbors could hear her.

He had run from his room and almost into one of her fists. She was flailing, yelling at something on the wall that only she could see.

"Mom," he'd pleaded. "Mom, please calm down!"

Joanne looked to her son, grabbing his shoulders almost painfully. "You have to help him! It's going to happen!"

"Mom..." Joe sighed. This far gone, she would probably be locked in his father's room all night until she passed out or Shou knocked her unconscious. "Please be quiet."

Joanne just looked at her son, eyes burning into his, and she warned him desperately, "When the time comes, and the time will always come – time is eternal and flowing and it goes in circles sometimes – you have to help Gomamon! He needs you – now, now, now!"

Joe bit his tongue. He hated when his mother spoke of the Digimon, as though they were still able to see each other. He'd tried to tell her that they didn't exist, that she was making them up, but she always surprised him with her knowledge of ones even he'd never seen. Then, he'd tried to tell her the Gates were closed and they would never be able to come back to the real world, but she still spoke of them as though they were merely in the next room.

"Mom, Gomamon's gone, remember? For years, now..."

"No!" Joanne shook her head harshly, reaching up to grab her frizzy blue hair and rip it from her scalp. "No, he has an egg! Blue and stripes! He's protecting the, the penguins from the p-plums!"

Joe grabbed her arms, yelling loud enough to be heard over her delusions, "Mom, did you take your pills this morning? I gave them to you, don't tell me you spit them out again."

"Poison! Your bastard father gives me poison!" She looked at him, sobbing in terror with dry eyes. "You need to help me!"

"You need to help yourself." Joe sighed, letting his mother go so she could resume her pacing. "Mom, just take the pills. They'll make you feel better, like they always do."

"Not better, never better..." Joanne looked at the bloody strands of hair twined in her fingers, wondering where they'd come from. "There is no help for me, but you must help. You have to help yourself." She looked through Joe, breath hitching, hyperventilating. "You, you're s-so tiny, now. But the, the penguin, it eats f-f-fish and it helps-s everyone."

"Mom, shit!" Joe grabbed Joanne as she collapsed, leaning heavily against him. He struggled, still nothing but elbows and knees even at seventeen, as she gasped for air. He sat her on the couch and grabbed his inhaler. The medication was running low, but there was enough to force into her lungs to calm her down. For a moment, she sat there and just breathed, and Joe thought she would be ok.

Then the door had opened, Shou stepping inside with a weary sigh, and Joanne had begun screaming, wordless peals of terror and rage. She tried to stand, but Joe held her down. He would have put his hand over her mouth, but she'd almost bitten through one of Shou's fingers that way a few years ago.

"What's wrong with you?" Shou snapped, yelling only partially to be heard over his sick wife. "I thought I told you to make sure this doesn't ever happen again!"

"I'm sorry," Joe pleaded, wrapping his arms around his mother to keep her from flailing. "She was fine a few moments ago."

"You're not doing it right – you've never done it right." Shou grabbed Joe and flung him to the floor. Joanne yelped as her husband brought his fist down on the side of her skull, dizzying her enough so that he could grab her by her tender hair and drag her down the hallway. He tossed his wife inside, the bolt shutting home, and turned to glare at Joe.

"Get up, you lazy bastard – you're almost as bad as her." Shou watched as his son clambered to his feet, looking to the floor like he always should when around his father. "You will be graduating high school in a few weeks, and I find you out here, dillydallying with your mother?! Have you spoken with the college yet about pre-med?" Before Joe could respond, Shou made a face. "Of course you haven't because you're as useless as her. You will speak with them tomorrow, understand?"

"Yes, sir," Joe had breathed. Shou wouldn't care that Joe had already spoken with the college about his coursework as well as being able to take the time to shadow the doctors at the JFCR hospital in Tokyo. He would inform his father tomorrow and accept the beating for his tardiness just like he always did. But for now, he would continue to study for his final exams, the last ones he would take in his high school career.

"It's true," Nana insisted. "I saw him – at the library. Rini was there and she can back me up."

It was after school, and Joe's cram school had announced that its classes would be beginning late all week due to building maintenance, so he was waiting in the courtyard with Nana and Shinjiro.

"You can say it all you want, and you know I don't trust Rini anymore," Joe told her, "but I refuse to believe it. Matt, studying? Are you sure there wasn't a half-naked person under the table?" He wasn't still bitter, not at all.

"I talked to him," Nana pouted, clinging to Shinjiro. He'd been coughing more often, staying home sick so much he almost wasn't able to graduate. It had been enough to make Nana never leave his side when she could help it, worrying herself sick in her classes and study sessions. "He had all these books about space and bettering himself and stuff like that. I think he means it. He wanted me to apologize to you for him."

"Well, he can take his apology and shove it up his -"

"There he is!" Nana pointed to the gate and Joe turned with a grimace.

The blonde man stood nervously to the side of the open gate, one hand gripping the bar tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Joe hated to admit it, but he looked just as beautiful as he always had in a dark blue dress shirt, black slacks, and even his school shoes instead of the clunky rock-star boots he used to wear. He had brushed his hair to shiny gold, and styled it in the way that always made Joe swoon. The blue haired man wanted to turn away, to ignore the flash of hurt in Matt's eyes that made him physically withdraw from the gate, but he couldn't. Whether it was Nana's hushed insistence, Shinjiro's silent encouragement, Matt's kicked-puppy expression, or even his own unrequited love for the man, Joe set his shoulders and approached.

"What do you want?" Joe snapped, trying to keep from falling into his usual bout of caring that would inevitably leave him heartbroken.

"Oh, uh... H-hey, Joe," Matt stuttered. He reached up, rubbing his shoulder awkwardly. "I, well, you look... You look good."

Joe pursed his lips, trying not to blush. "Nana told me you were sorry, and I'll admit that you dressing up looks legit, but you'll forgive me if I think it's all an act, won't you?"

Matt swallowed harshly, looking to the ground. Joe cursed at himself, seeing the beginnings of tears before he turned away. The blonde's breath hitched and he shivered, finally turning away to cough up phlegm and tar and all the nicotine he'd been inhaling since he was fifteen. Joe made a face at the noise, at the glob that Matt embarrassedly spit into the bushes.

"What?" Joe demanded, feeling himself wanting to give in, to take care of the blonde like he'd promised he always would when he was young and stupid. "What do you want from me this time?

"Joe, I... I want..." Matt breathed as deep as he could, set his shoulders and, with cheeks burning, he asked, "Will you tutor me?"

"I-I'm sorry?" Joe yelped. He'd never expected to hear those words come from the blonde, not after all this time.

"I fell behind in most of my classes - all of them, really - and I need..." Matt glanced at Joe, fear dancing in his eyes. "I need help. A lot of it."

"No." Joe shook his head and took a step back. He had to remind himself, over and over, that he hated Matt. He hated the blonde's eyes and his voice and the gentle soul hidden under a terrible childhood trauma. He had to hate Matt, otherwise he would only let himself get hurt again. "N-no. I'm not... I'm not doing this all over again. You only come to me when you need something. I'm tired of giving you everything I have just for you to just throw it all away."

Joe turned away, for once feeling content with his anger. Like he'd finally done the right thing. Then he heard Matt whisper softly, brokenly, "I understand..."

Joe hesitated for just a moment, for a tiny stumble of a step. He couldn't go back on his word now, not after all that. He had to be firm, to keep his word. Otherwise he'd give into himself, wrap the blonde in his arms and kiss him until they were both breathless. Then he heard the shuffling of feet, the curse of a student passing by as Matt shoved him, running off down the street.

"What was that?!" Nana demanded as soon as Joe approached. "He came to you for help, didn't he? And what did you say to the poor boy?"

"I told him the truth," Joe insisted. "That I don't believe him and that he needs to leave me alone whenever he need a pickup."

Nana let go of Shinjiro only so that she could begin beating on Joe's shoulder with both her tiny fists. "You, you... you butthole! He was counting on you!"

"And I'm tired of it! It's always been like that – he comes to me for help one day, then he's boozing and, and fucking and gods' know what else the next!" Joe shrugged Nana off, turning away. "He always comes to me first..."

"What are you going to do, then?" Shinjiro asked, the question more of a demand.

"What else?" Joe sighed. It was time for him to go to his cram school now. "I'll call him tonight, and apologize and let him know I'll tutor him."

Joe sat in the library, looking at his watch and tapping his foot. Matt wasn't late, but it didn't stop Joe from being impatient. He thought to himself, like he had all day, wondering if he should have agreed to this at all. He should have sent Matt to someone else, anyone else. He shouldn't have agreed, practically begged, the blonde to meet him.

Joe flipped through the algebra book in front of him, wondering outloud, "What am I doing here...?"

"Waiting for me, I hope...?" came Matt's sudden whisper, making Joe jump. "Sorry!"

Joe looked up, wanting to glare, but only able to melt. Once again, Matt had groomed himself past presentable almost to flaunting, abandoning his ripped and stained shirts for something semi-professional, his dirty jeans covered in others' fluids for neutral slacks. "You're..." Joe looked at his witch to try and hide his blushing cheeks. "You're on time."

"I wanted to be here early," Matt told him, awkwardly taking the chair next to Joe. He looked at all the books, spread out over the table to the librarian's displeasure. "But my dad got home early and I wanted to catch up because you, you know we haven't talked and I'm trying, I'm really trying now, and -"

"Stop, stop." Joe smiled as Matt looked at him sharply, worriedly. "You're sounding like me, and it's getting freaky."

Matt blinked before giving a tiny smile, as though unused to the expression.

"Ok," Joe took a breath and grabbed his pen, glad to see Matt do the same. "Now you're going to tell me every subject you're behind in, and how far you are."

"Well, I'm making a..." Matt ticked his fingers off for each class: "fifty-one in literature, a fourty-five in history, a thirty-two in social studies, a ten in math. Oh, and an eighty-nine in art."

"A ten in math?" Joe could faint. "H-how many classes have you missed?"

"The principal told me the only way I can skip another day and not be kicked out is if they see my death certificate."

"For the love of..." Joe removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "And you only have your senior year left?!"

"And the rest of this one," Matt told him helpfully.

Joe sat back with a deep sigh. "This is too much... I don't think I can handle all these subjects on my own."

Matt frowned, running his pen along the margin of his notebook, doodling music notes and Punimons in the margins. "I understand, you know. You've already done so much, you don't have to..."

"I said 'all of them'," Joe said. "I'll talk to Izzy. I can help you with Social Studies and Lit. I'll convince Izzy to help you with Math and History. We'll work out a schedule, and gods help me if you skip any of it. The second I see you start to slack off, I'm done – got it?"

Matt nodded excitedly, a warm glint in his eyes that Joe hadn't seen since the Digital World.

Maybe... Maybe this wasn't such a mistake, after all.