#she was also a lot more picky w her contracts too

[chaintm-a]

Cliffs’ notes version of my Helen Wick:

She used to be a hitman, stopped when she got pregnant with Melina

She and John met on a contract and things fell into place from there

While Helen did get cancer, it wasn’t terminal. She had a big target on her back from a particularly powerful client since she turned down a contract from them. She had to hide from John to keep them both safe. And he didn’t know. 

Helen often tries to leave hints that she’s alive, but John keeps missing them bc of all the shit he’s going through

[wondersbeyondcompare]

Some stuff

About Kodi and Majid’s parents that I was thinking about while making lunch the other day!  Really, this is just a poor attempt on expanding on the bois in general, but oh well! Thought it would be easier to put these thoughts in a separate post instead of adding to their profiles since this wasn’t directly relevant to them  (・・;)ゞ I guess?? dshgfjhdsf Honestly, I think this is more for me just so I can get some stuff straightened out. I’m pretty bad w/ consistency after all...

Majid’s Parents

EDIT (06/13/2021): Drew up some new headshots for Majid and Kodi’s parents! Hopefully they look a bit better than before!

Past me writing Majid’s bio: Yeah, keep the part about his parents vague;;; Idek what to do about that

Me on Monday rolling up some embutido for lunch: Hey, y’know what-

- Mother: Lara (won’t reveal her last name; when asked for it by Majid’s father, she jokingly suggested she take his last name instead) - Father: Kadir Ansari - Compared to Kodi’s parents, these 2 have much more info behind them b/c I have to explain both of their disappearances, so (・_・;) get comfy - Kadir---> Simple businessman in the Land of the Hot Sands; Made and sold jewelry for a living; Had a fairly small shop dedicated to his craft - Lara---> Runaway criminal from a land up north (if you ask me to clarify which country it is, I will cry;;; what does the Twst world even look like in the 1st place??)

 Didn’t kill anyone, but rather a string of robberies and prison escapes up her sleeve; had a large family that she had to provide for, unfortunately this landed her in a lot of trouble

- Lara snuck into Kadir’s place late at night by climbing in through his window

She was immediately asked to leave

Kadir eventually relented since she had nowhere to go/he already had a long day at work and didn’t want to argue

- Once Lara explained her situation to Kadir in the morning, she was asked to leave again.

After breakfast ofc

Use the shower if you want to, but don’t use up all the hot water

And he would give her some money and other basic necessities to use on the way, but (￣ヘ￣) that was it 

She really needed to go, tho; Kadir didn’t want to charged w/ harboring a criminal

- Lara begged to stay w/ Kadir, telling him in tears that she would do anything for him so long as he gave her a place to stay for the time being

Well... it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra help in his shop... and it would be heartless to kick a crying woman back on the streets, especially in broad daylight...

Fine. She can stay. But only for a little while, okay?

- When it comes to personality, Kadir is often seen as a serious man. He can become surprisingly raucous and joking w/ his friends and frequent customers, but otherwise, he was all business.

Has a fairly straightforward way of speaking; like Majid, he might come off as a little rude sometimes

His resting face makes him seem unapproachable at first, but he’s a pretty reliable guy

- Compared to Kadir, Lara has a more easygoing demeanor; fairly sly as well

Develops a habit of teasing Kadir once she warms up to him, either through her words or by constantly sticking close to him (this is probably where Majid got some of his clinginess from ngl); she wanted to see what exactly was behind that ever so serious facade

Kadir tries to brush her off most of the time, saying it’s not appropriate, especially in front of the customers; slowly becomes fond of it as time goes on

Tends to beat around the bush when she speaks; she won’t lie, but she won’t give you all the truth either

Oh! Yeah, and she’s pretty good at sleight of hand tricks too! :D These tricks seem to be a little more than just mere illusions at times, tho...

- Both of them are unbelievably stubborn (ah, yes, this trait comes from both sides of the family)

- They tend to butt heads a lot at the beginning; enemies to lovers 30k

- Speaking of tropes, these 2 probably become involved in a fake marriage thing so Kadir’s reputation doesn’t suffer when people see him bringing a strange woman into his house every night after work (*exchanging rings* “This doesn’t mean anything, okay? I just can’t have any more rumors.” “>:3c Okay, Habibi~” “... And don’t ever call me that in public, or I’ll pretend to not know you.”)

- It’s also a bit difficult for Lara to work at the shop at first

Kadir can be really picky when it comes to quality, and he certainly won’t lighten up on any of his wokers, regardless if they’re newbies or not

That and Lara can be heavy handed at times; knocking over display cases as she gestures to them and accidentally breaking parts of jewelry

I would love to say that she eventually gets the hand of everything, but :/ she really doesn’t; she’s entertaining to watch, though lol

- Once Kadir and Lara actually start falling for each other, they try to flirt in subtle ways, trying to get a reaction out of the other; or, at least, they think it’s subtle; oh gosh, their poor, poor coworkers ( ; ω ; )

- Lara might have had to wear some form of head covering/head scarf while working or out in public in general; her blonde hair and pale complexion makes her stick out like a sore thumb in a crowd, and she can’t risk getting recognized and taken back to jail again

- Majid... was an accident.

His parents were excited for his arrival nevertheless; Kadir would’ve bought a bunch of stuff beforehand like the worried father he was; Lara is happily spoiled w/ the amount of food she gets to eat during pregnancy (girl loves her food)

Once Majid was born, you bet he was coddled over; was often called Lara’s “little treasure”; Kadir was tempted to make Majid kind of like a mascot for his business, but decided that wasn’t professional (he really wanted to tho;;; thinks about it everytime he sees his son’s cute pudgy face)

- Lara was eventually caught and arrested; sent back to her home country for trial a few years after Majid had been born

Kadir leaves Majid w/ a trusted friend of his in order to attend Lara’s trial

He... doesn’t come back

The friend couldn’t afford to take care of Majid on his own, so he drops him off at an orphanage, promising to come back for the child once he had enough money to support them both

This man in particular works hard to set up his own appraisal/curio shop in the future and ohoho >:3c things are really coming together now

- Majid spent some time in the orphanage before escaping; he didn’t like how strictly everything was run

escaped enough times that the staff members soon gave up on him and let him roam free

surprisingly, no one (w/ a few exceptions) remembers baby Majid nor his parents; the Ansari jewelry shop was closed down and set up for lease the day Kadir disappeared; what happened in Lara’s trial was essentially a mystery, but perhaps the consequences of it could explain these odd events...

Kodi’s Parents

A bit shorter b/c these 2 literally had one (1) summer to themselves before creating the child, so there’s no slow burn here

- Mother: Colette Sepiama (Maiden name: Roussel; took father’s last name in remembrance of him)

- Father: Dimitri Sepiama 

- Co+Di= Codi (but, like, with a “K”)

- 1st meeting was a bit odd

- Colette was having a beach vacation, chilling as she collected seashells along the shore

And then some naked guy approached her, asking for help while sobbing his heart out

Didn’t want to find out what kind of “help” he needed, so she tried to power walk away, but he ended up tripping while following after her

Stared at the sad scene of a butt naked man crying into the wet sand for a couple of moments before wrapping him into a towel and paying a visit to the nearest souvenir store

He eventually calmed down enough to explain himself once he got the Hawaiian touristy shirt and khakis on (oh, gosh, now I’m getting Crowley flashbacks  (;;;*_*) make it stop-)

- Dimitri was part of a little “experiment” a friend of his was conducting, testing out various potions on him at any opportunity

Yea, they were a pretty messed up friend; at the very least, they made sure none of their potions would kill him outright

One of the potions gave him human legs (since he was a cuttlefish merman beforehand)

The trouble was: How does he turn back?

- They were the kind of couple who shares one braincell, spending the entire summer working together trying to figure out a solution to his predicament

Also, Colette lowkey thought Dimitri was lying about the whole cuttlefish merman thing, but since she thought he was kinda cute, she agreed to help him out

- I mentioned this before in Kodi’s profile, but I guess I’ll mention it again; Kodi’s pre-contract self was basically a male version of his mom

Basically, she was the type to always keep her emotions in check (well, it’s not as if she had a choice; she was awful at trying to show her emotions)

The type of person whose angry face and happy face were exactly the same

But she was kind enough and didn’t discriminate, even if the person she was dealing w/ claimed to be a mermaid from the deep sea

- In contrast to Colette, Dimitri is more like Kodi’s post-contract self

He cries;;; a lot

He’s just in a new and frightening situation, okay??  (╥﹏╥) And his human body was significantly shorter than his merman body, so everything is gigantic to the now smol boi; he often follows behind Colette because, even tho she’s taller than him, he finds her reassuring

Colette finds his personality cute; she likes being relied upon

- ahsghj I can imagine these 2 going on library dates, flipping through books and maybe falling asleep at some point as the setting sun casts an amber glow over them through the dusty windows, and it’s honestly the cutest thing

- Also, neither of them have magical abilities, but Colette’s grandmother did; it basically skipped a generation

This is why Kodi’s magic is weaker than others’, but he works hard to improve himself

- At the end of the summer, Dimitri is turned back

Turns out the potion only lasts for a certain amount of time :/ wow

They probably had some sort of tearful parting at the beach, w/ this time Colette breaking into tears instead of Dimitri

- Couple weeks after the vacation :D Colette finds out she’s pregnant

Realizes her relatives probably wouldn’t believe her if she told them the truth, so she fabricated a story about a simple meeting w/ a cute guy on vacation she hooked up with

I mean, she wasn’t technically lying about that

Bonus! Berenice’s Parents

A perfectly normal, perfectly boring family

- Cassidy is on the left and Argos is on the right!

- Since Berenice was based off the spirits in the whirlpool as well as the river Styx itself/herself, I searched up the parents of the goddess aaanndd

- Kind of?? Based them off Tethys and Oceanus??? Tho they are both of fairy descent; Cassidy is half and so is Argos, so maybe (´･_･`) that would work out? In terms of making a child of their own??? I didn’t want to go against the set fairy lore in stuff like Pixie Hollow, so-

- I always covered the tops of Berenice’s ears to avoid raising any suspicion of her true background, but, yea, they are slightly pointed as well. Much smaller than her parents, maybe abnormally so, but they are there (side note: if you saw me accidentally draw berenice w/ human ears (*⁰▿⁰*) no you didnt)

- They lived with Berenice in an area just outside of the Valley of Thorns called the Land of Lotuses, so there was a large fairy population here too.

- As such, Berenice never thought to question if the life she was living was considered “normal” in the eyes of outsiders. So you’ll often hear her describe her past life as boring and ordinary, both to make a person lose interest and just b/c she truly thought she lived such a life.

- I described Berenice as being an only child, but I never go into detail on what happened with her family after she died 🧐 Did she perhaps unknowingly gain another sibling? Or two? Or three???

- lol wait I just remembered I described them as getting up there in age. Maybe in human standards they were, but they were still considered like??? Middle aged??? When it came to fairies???

- They had no prominent influence in the Valley of Thorns nor in the Land of Lotuses, but they were both considered a respectable people involved in an overseas trade business when living in their old coastal town.

- Both settled down in the Land of Lotuses to raise Berenice and also to hide away from a scandal that ended up bankrupting their company but shshhhh

[luvknow]

tempting | hwang hyunjin

genre: fallen angel!hyunjin x reader summary: “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil”, no matter how small the temptation. wc: 4.4k

The first time you saw him was at the flower shop. That’s right, the damn flower shop, also known as the most fairy tale, cliche, and disgustingly corny place to lay eyes on possibly the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen in your entire life. It was weird because junior year literature class and Disney movies taught you that Hades was this bad blue fire-haired guy who ruled the underworld, but after learning that he fell in love with Persephone while she was tending to flowers, you think that maybe Hades couldn’t have been such a bad guy, right? I mean, totally disregarding the whole part where he kidnapped her, took her to the Underworld, and bound her by contract to visit him for a third of the year by a pomegranate seed, you were practically Hades and you weren’t a bad guy, so by transitive property, Hades wasn’t a bad guy.

Yeah, math wasn’t your best subject.

While peeking through the peonies, you noticed the bundle of brown paper he took from the cashier. He was buying bunches of eucalyptus that hugged little lavender sprigs. Quite subtle, but still fragrant bunch - he was tasteful and you respected that. But of course he was, he looked like that, after all.

Ah, but he was probably buying that for his equally-hot significant other. Not that you thought you had the slightest chance with him to begin with, I mean look at him, but hey, one can daydream for a couple of minutes, right? You wondered what kind of person captured his heart and compelled him to buy such a unique arrangement. Were they someone as stunningly beautiful and graceful as he was that he had to buy something muted that would only accentuate their perfections? Maybe he liked someone more on the reserved side, someone who didn’t catch the attention of everyone within a mile radius and wanted to match their delicacy. Or you know what, he was probably into those artsy types because what non-artistic being would be excited over a bouquet of koala chow and perfume?

Then again, if you got a bouquet from any boy, koala crisps or not, you’d be ecstatic because getting something from any guy ever was all you ever wanted. So not only were you a desperate damsel, you have also succumbed to capitalism just so you could dump a dozen flowers into a vase and show it off to your equally-single coworkers at the office. One day you’ll live that fantasy of hearing ‘flower delivery for _____?’ echoing throughout the entire room and all your coworkers gasping with jealousy. One day.

The tall, handsome, mysterious man must have felt your eyes boring holes through his fancy long coat because he turned to your direction before signing his receipt.

Oh shit, you were caught! What should you do?

“_____, welcome back! Can I help you?” a blessed, loyal employee slash friend named Seungmin asked suddenly, causing you to jump. The look on his face was all but welcoming as he knew exactly what you were doing between the pink blooms.

“A-Ah, Seungmin! My favorite worker! Th-These peonies are quite beautiful in their pre-bloom state. But I’m wondering if I should wait another week until they are in full bloom…? You know how picky Sunmi can get.” Your boss’s love for all types of flowers allowed you to pull some bullshit out of your ass and saved you from embarrassment. Seungmin was impressed, so he’ll save you the embarrassment for some other time.

“Definitely get pre-bloom. Sunmi can look at them longer.”

“But she’ll order more before they even reach full bloom, so that’s why I’m wondering if I should leave empty handed? She specifically asked for peonies this time.”

“In my humblest opinion, they are much prettier this way. And who knows, maybe she’ll see them bloom and fall in love with them and keep them for another week.”

You pointed an accusing finger at your friend. “You work commission, don’t you?”

“Yeah. Was I too pushy? Too obvious?”

“Not at all. If I were any other customer, I’d be convinced. I’ll take a dozen.”

“Excellent choice. I’ll meet you at the register.”

Peaking with your peripherals towards the register, it seemed like that mysterious hot guy hasn’t left yet. What the hell was he still doing? “Uh, no that’s ok! I can wait here…!”

“But you need to pay…”

“Can’t you just pull up the credit card number, or something?”

“Uh, no?”

“You don’t save our credit card history? After all the business we’ve given you?”

“No, because I don’t think that’s legal…?”

“Ugh, you’re such a goodie two-shoes.”

Seungmin shook his head while grabbing the twelve finest peony bulbs. After he made his way towards the back of the register where he’d wrap the bouquet in that signature brown paper, you made your way towards the tall, hot guy and waited patiently. It was an awkward silence between the three of you and the boy ten feet to your right stealing glances at you wasn’t helping one bit. The shop was starting to feel warm. Was there one of those fancy warmth lights above you? To help with photosynthesis, or whatever?

But all of that was beside the real matter at hand - why the hell was this guy still waiting here? Who was he waiting for? Did he buy something else?

Slipping between Seungmin and the register, Mina, your real favorite flower shop worker, popped in with a neatly-wrapped bouquet of a different color pre-bloom peonies than the one you were purchasing.

Ok, was this really coincidental, or did he overhear your conversation with the achingly-slow flower wrapper boy? Maybe not though, because the bunch were actually really pretty… Much prettier than yours. You knew that whomever he was giving them to was one lucky person.

“Do you like peonies?”

Oh, my God, even his voice was hot! It sounded like fresh honey dripping from the comb itself! Or like the pounds upon pounds of melted milk chocolate in a patisserie. Or something else along the lines of corny poetic metaphors comparing the sweetness of his voice to equally sweet foods.

“I love peonies,” you answered honestly and surprisingly normally. You even dared to return the eye contact, which might have been a bad idea because wow, there was no way you’d be able to look away now. How could one person look so perfect? “Y-You, too?”

“They’re ok. I prefer this boring bunch of green and purple.” Of course he did. “My girlfriend likes peonies.”

All thoughts created in the last fifteen minutes under your smitten state were thrown out the window now that it was confirmed that he was indeed taken. You could finally act normal again. The chase was kind of fun while it lasted, at least. This would go down in record history of the fastest time for being rejected.

“She’s a very lucky lady.”

“Yeah, I guess. Although I think I’m the lucky one.”

His gaze on you was strong. Not like in a weird creepy way, it was just strong - that was the best way to describe it. If you thought you burned holes through his jacket, then he was searing your skin slowly, making sure you would remember this very moment. Your creepy stares between the peony bulbs was nothing compared to him being up close and personal. Being under the microscope was not fun and you wondered if he was doing this to get back at you from earlier, but his intentions weren’t that at all. They were quite flirty, if they were anything, especially with that heart-stopping smile of his.

Something wasn’t right.

“You’re all set, sir. Have a nice day!” Mina said, breaking the silence.

“Excellent, thank you!” With the cutest, nearly heart-stopping smile, he gladly took both bouquets. His face dropped back to that flirty gaze when he turned to you. He even dared to wink. “Enjoy your bouquet.”

“U-Uh, thanks…! You too, peony pal!!”

He laughed while exiting the store. Look, if you couldn’t win hearts with your looks, you could win them with your humor. God couldn’t have nerfed you in two of the most important human traits. What did it matter anyways, he was taken! Right? But who knows, he could have been lying… Maybe he was hiding something…

“Peony pal? Really?” Seungmin teased. “You’re so bad at social interactions!”

“I’m only bad when people look like that! Did you see that guy!? He’s sculpted from marble and gold! Mina, how did you keep your composure the whole time?”

“When I had my back facing him, I practically allowed myself to melt where I was standing. That guy is unreal…”

“It’s no wonder he’s taken.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that…”

“What do you mean?”

“While you and Seungmin were discussing peonies and their bulb maturity, he was looking and listening the whole time. That’s when he asked me to get a bouquet for himself.”

“So? Maybe he just thought, ‘ah, I bet my super hot model girlfriend would love those, too.’”

“It could be. But you should have seen the way he was looking at you, _____.”

“Wha-? How was he looking at me…?”

“Like he wanted to claim you as his own.”

Your heart leaped up to your throat. It was a gross and quite sexist proclamation, but damn did that boost your ego into space or what.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you mumbled, though not bothering to hide your giddy smile. “You really think so?”

“Of course!”

“Hey, don’t go feeding their big head, it can’t be good to have all that air in there,” Seungmin scolded. “I’ll admit he was staring. I don’t think I’d call it flirty. Creepy is much more like it.”

“He did seem kind of off, huh? Oh, well. I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. So what do I owe you guys?”

“Nothing today!” Mina grinned. “That guy paid for you.”

With a blush on your cheeks to match your bouquet, you shyly took them from Seungmin. “Holy shit, really? Three bouquets is a lot of money.”

“Yeah, that means he has a lot of money.”

If creepy hot guys at the local flower shop you frequented wanted you to fall in love with them on the spot, they should just say so! You were already making your way there, anyways.

The second time you saw him was on the way home after working overtime. The office was in the middle of the city and the walk home to your place near campus was a solid thirty minutes. Somewhere between the popular cafe and the overpriced chic clothing store at the end of the street was where you saw him. You knew it was him, too, because in his hands was another dozen of the same peonies he bought last week wrapped in Seungmin’s signature ribbon. There was no way the man in front of you was just any random man. You couldn’t explain it, but you just knew it was him.

Something compelled you to follow him. There wasn’t a snake to blame for tempting you to the shiny red apple, so whatever happened to you tonight after following a hot stranger in the dead of night was all your fault.

He turned the corner where the overpriced boutique stood. Then turned the corner where the late-night bbq place was. Then finally, he turned into one of the busiest streets in town, where all the street food vendors and bars gave life to the night. That’s when you lost him and felt a wave of relief wash over you. This was definitely for your own good.

“If it isn’t my peony pal.”

Behind you stood the gorgeous man a little too close for comfort. So close, you could smell the intoxicating and expensive Gucci cologne. It felt like your shoes were melting with the cement, for you couldn’t move a single cell in your body and now you were sure this was the start of your slow, torturous death after he kidnapped you and locked you in some jail cell he built in the basement of his mansion.

When did he get behind you?

“H-Hey, peony pal…! What a coincidence meeting you at nightlife’s hot spot, huh? Crazy, ha ha ~”

“Not quite a coincidence if you’ve been following me, is it?”

Well, shit. “Yeah, about that -”

“I’m kidding!” he chuckled, showing you his curvy eye smile that made you want to sign all your possessions over to him. “I was actually hoping you were.”

“Really!?”

“Mhm. I was hoping I’d see you again.”

“Why...?”

The clever boy only winked and continued on forward towards the crowd of people populating the street. “I’m kind of hungry. Wanna grab some street food? My treat.”

Was it normal for strangers to be this friendly? Nothing bad could happen anyways, right? Especially in such a public place? And you were getting quite snacky… but again, something didn’t seem right. Something in your gut and your brain told you that this guy was hiding something. But your weak, dumb heart that beat for cute, tall boys said fuck it! YOLO, right!?

“I promise I won’t kidnap you,” he persuaded.

“I knew that…! It’s just wouldn’t your girlfriend be upset about this…?”

“Hm? What girlfriend?” he teased lightly.

“Eh? Were you lying at the flower shop?”

“Maybe.”

“Then who were the flowers for?”

“A man can buy a bouquet of flowers for himself if he wants.”

“Of course he can, but you didn’t have to lie!”

“I wanted to see your reaction.” You’re pretty sure he said that so he could get another reaction from you and by the coy smirk on his lips, it’s safe to say you delivered just how he expected - face flushed a bright red from embarrassment.

“You’re kind of weird.”

“Will you come with me or not?”

He held his hand out to you. Before you could reject, before your mind and gut could convince you of all possible red flags this guy had, your body had already gravitated towards him and took his hand to guide you through a place you’ve been many times before. His hands were soft.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“My name is Hyunjin.”

“I’m _____.”

“Nice to meet you, _____.” Your name sounds oh-so sweet in his honey tone. “Let’s get to know each other.”

Hwang Hyunjin liked peonies and eucalyptus bouquets, red wine, tiny puppies, eating tons of bbq, liked kissing (a lot), and was a sweet and sensitive man during romantic movies. This was what you’ve learned in the past couple months dating him.

Well, not dating dating… the conversation hadn’t been brought up yet. It was more like you were seeing each other. Exclusively. While sneaking in a kiss or two at the end of the night. Totally normal not dating-kind of dating stuff, right?

How you even got to this point was a mystery to you. One minute you were caught following him at midnight, the next he’s prince charming while buying you food and walking you home, and now you’ve practically fallen head over heels for him like he was your middle school crush all over again.

To put it simply, he was perfect. Almost too perfect. Still, even after figuring out that he wasn’t going to kidnap you that night, you could still sense that something was off.

But that’s for another night to lie awake figuring out.

Tonight was a warm night spent having dinner at an expensive restaurant near the beach. He even paid for everything before you asked how much the bill was. And sitting in one of the empty chairs between the both of you was a bouquet of peonies picked just for you. While walking off the dinner hand-in-hand, Hyunjin took a sharp turn and dragged you to the sands of the beach.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he said.

“A swim? At this time!?”

The handsome boy ignored your incredulous cries, for he had already taken most of his clothes off. He turned to you, clad only in his underwear, with an adoring smile on his lips that made you fall deeper every time you saw it. As usual whenever he’d tempt you to do something you were skeptical of, he held is right hand out for you to take.

“Will you come with me or not?” he’d always say.

And every time, wordlessly, you’d take his hand and follow him to nowhere. Tonight’s nowhere was the ocean.

Of course you stripped down to the bare minimums also, revealing the most of yourself to him than ever before. It wasn’t awkward or shy as you’d expect. In the cold ocean waters, laughing in the arms of someone so beautiful, you felt so alive! You hoped Hyunjin felt the same way.

“I really like you,” you admit as you two waded calmly in the waves.

His hold on you only tightened while he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. “I like you, too, love.”

“No, I mean I really like you. I want to be with you. I want to be yours.”

The boy brushed away hair that clung to your face and cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Are you sure you want that?”

“I’m sure. Do you not want that…?”

“There’s nothing I want more than for you to be mine.”

“Then why did you ask me if I’m sure?”

“I’m… just a lot to handle.”

“I can handle it.”

“Are you sure -”

“Yes.”

His sweet giggle rang in your ears. “So eager.”

“Not that eager…”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that now I can call you mine.” An ocean-salty kiss on the lips under a full moon was what sealed the deal and you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Let’s go before we get sick.”

Hyunjin headed to the shore first. This was the first time you got a good look of his bare back. Much like the rest of his body, he was well-toned in all the right places. You could trace every bone, every muscle fiber on him for hours on end if you could. Then you noticed two long scar slashes on either side of his spine between both shoulder blades.

“Hyunjin,” you called out to him.

“Hm?”

“What happened to your back?”

He turned to you half-way, enough for you to see his broken smile. “I had an accident.”

You left it at that.

“Tempting?”

“H-Huh?”

In the middle of his kitchen, Hyunjin was cooking you both some delicious dinner. His technique was flashy and cute and the aromas from all the spices were delectable, but he was even more so, in the best and worst possible ways. You were staring at his back for a moment too long when he caught you. Still, even after months of being together he was able to have your heart leap in your throat.

“Am I tempting, or something? You keep staring at me,” he teased.

“Seems like I can’t get enough of you.”

“Mm, you do have a habit of giving into temptation.” The boy who held the universe in his eyes took them off of the sizzling pan and over to you, where he leaned in just before the tips of your noses touched. “So do I.”

“Match made in heaven?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

A light, feathery kiss graced your lips and you think maybe you give into temptation a little too much because you wanted more of the boy named Hyunjin.

“Ah, I forgot dessert!” he whined childishly.

“That’s ok! We don’t need any.”

“I’ve been really looking forward to some cheesecake, so I’m going to get some and you can’t stop me! I’ll be right back -”

“No no, I’ll go. I could go for a walk, and I wouldn’t trust me with a pan full of food if I were you.”

“You’re the best.” A kiss on your forehead was planted to bid you a short farewell. “Be safe, ok?”

It was that time of the year when the nights were longer than the days. Luckily, the market was just a short way down the street. You used this time to think about Hyunjin, as you always did. When you said you could not get enough of him, it was the truth. You knew the moment you laid eyes on him between the bulbs of peonies at the blessed flower shop that you’d find yourself thinking about him at ungodly hours, even if he ended up being a passing stranger. But now he was your loving person, someone who meant the absolute world to you in just a short amount of time.

Since the night at the beach, Hyunjin didn’t bother hiding his scars from you. Whether you caught him in the middle of changing or were tracing tiny shapes in the middle of a nap, he let you memorize the most vulnerable parts of him. For that, you were thankful, and you felt like you’d gotten closer to him because of that, but there’s still so much of him that you don’t know. The details of his accident are still unknown to you, but you hoped he’d tell you when he’s ready. You wondered if other couples had doubts about their partner the same way you do.

Your thoughts about the mysterious boy ran wild with all possibilities of what happened to him from the moment you left his place to the moment you realized someone was following you. He kept a safe distance and covered his face with a hood, a sign telling you that this guy was up to no good. You tried to lose him at random corners and different alleys, but somehow he still managed to catch up. He was narrowing in by picking up his pace and you were running out of ideas, but when you turned the corner and ran into a dead end, that’s when you knew you were screwed.

“Oh, fuck me…” you muttered to no one.

The mysterious man hadn’t said a word. Instead, a maniacal laughter was heard and you watched him pull out a knife. Whether it was going to be used as a scare tactic to rob you or it would be used to carve you open like a pumpkin, you just hoped it would end quickly.

“Hey there, darling,” he finally spoke, inching his way towards you. “You ready to have fun tonight?”

Out of fear, your shaky hands dropped the cheesecake. You hoped Hyunjin would forgive you later.

Suddenly, a heavy and loud THING landed behind you. You called it a thing simply because there was no way any human could not only jump down from one of the rooftops and survive, but also make the ground shake and boom with a loud thud. You figured this thing wasn’t a part of this man’s plan or posse by the look on his horrified face and you’re glad, but on the other hand, you had absolutely no idea what the fuck was behind you and you didn’t want to look. You could tell by its shadow peeking through your peripherals that this was nothing human.

The man before you dropped his knife and ran away, tripping multiple times throughout the process. You’re stuck in your spot, unable to turn around and face reality.

“_____,” Hyunjin whispered.

When you recognized his voice, you spun around quickly. Here your hero was, plain old beautiful Hyunjin in all his glory, glowing against the light of the moon. His shadow, however, was anything but the beautiful Hyunjin you knew. From the brick wall behind and around you, you saw the shadow of what was once his wingspan. The expanse of all the black space hugging the walls was so terrifyingly beautiful. It matched him quite well.

“Say something,” he begged quietly.

You touched his shadow. It felt like a thin velvet film covering the bricks. “You’re a real work of art, Hwang Hyunjin. What am I going to do…?”

The boy, or Angel, or Devil, or whatever he was, didn’t respond. All he could do was wait - wait and see if the only person that made him feel like he could fly again would continue to do so. But who would after seeing the real him? Really, one had to be so damn stupid to continue on with this life -

“Will you come with me or not?”

You’re confused, you’re scared, you’re absolutely bamboozled, but most of all, you’re an idiot. You’re the idiot who stared too long between the peony blossoms, the idiot who stalked him in the dead of night, and the idiot who fell into temptation whenever he brought it to you on a silver platter. But you loved him… what were you supposed to do about that?

Hyunjin took your hand and led you home. Then he fed you dinner like you hadn’t seen the ghost of wings thirty minutes ago. Then you spent the night in his arms while watching a movie until it was time to go to bed. His hold on you was tighter and the kisses that were smothered atop your head lingered a little longer than they had before, allowing both of your worries to subside.

In bed tucked warmly beneath the covers, you refused to let the night consume your tired soul and stayed up studying every last bit of Hyunjin’s face hoping to find something more phenomenal than angel wings. You found nothing out of the ordinary. Honestly, you’re not sure how you didn’t figure it out in the first place - you knew from the start he was way too hot to be a normal human.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” he mumbled, nuzzling his face closer to yours.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Too many questions?”

“I have a million.”

“I’ll allow one for tonight.”

“What happened…?” you trailed off, referring to his clipped wings.

“Long story short, temptation is a terrible thing.”

“Really? I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“You’re right. If it brought you to me, it can’t be that bad.”

“Does this change anything between us?”

For the first time since you came to bed, Hyunjin opened his eyes. You were right to say that his big, round eyes held the universe - the mortal universe, the heavens, and even hell. They held stories he couldn’t wait to tell and heartbreak he’d hope to fix with your help. He was a whole-ass mess, but he was your mess.

“No,” the most beautiful angel told you. “Not one bit.”

[little-dragon-stories]

Before I leave Part 6

Take out at his place

A fake Text and scenarios serie featuring Kwon Jiyong himself.  

After your sister died, you decided to move in Korea to get close to your niece and nephew. That’s where you meet Kwon Jiyong, get to work for him and start to believe hapiness is possible again…

Warning: mention of a sexual agression (nothing described)

W/C 3755

At 19h30 that night, you were about to call a cab but you received 2 texts messages from the now 2 men of your life.

The first one was from your boyfriend saying he was not coming home to sleep because he is busy at the hospitals, he was wishing you a good night. That was a cold and impersonal message.

The second one was from Jiyong saying:

“Whenever you are ready, there is a driver waiting for you in front of your building, take your time, he will wait and so do I.  Before you ask, I send you a car because it will be safer for you, you get lost easily my «head in the clouds» friend.  See you soon xxx”.

Since you didn’t want to make him wait for you, you rushed out of the apartment and got in the car very fast. The young man politely says hi as you were buckling up your belt and started to drive.

The car ride from your house to his would take about 20 minute, so on your way there, you just closed your eyes, focussing on your breathing. You were nervous to meet Ji again, now that you know he is a superstar and that you saw him on your computer screen dancing and rapping like the king he is on the stage. You cannot lie to yourself, he is a really good performer and the way you saw him moved was seductive. The man you have known since a week now is very different than the artist, the singer.  You prefer the proximity of Jiyong, but the artist is very attracting to you as well.

As you were thinking about the way he was moving and dancing on the stage, you felt the need to open your eyes as not to let yourself go too far in your thoughts. You don’t want to picture the man you will meet in a sexy way. He is your new friend, a shy and introvert man and for tonight, you want it to stay this way.

Trying to change your mind, you looked at the people outside, the people walking on the street, hand in hand or alone, the families... Every one of them carries their own life, their own secrets and stories.  The light went red so the car stopped and as you looked closely at a couple that looked head overs heels for each other, you thought to yourself, this face in profile is not unknown to you, it is even rather familiar. You don’t want to believe it because you cannot imagine he would be doing this to you, after all, he was suppose to be at the hospital, right? But as he lift his eyes and started to look around almost like he felted your eyes on him, your eyes met. There is no doubt now, you have to admit it, your boyfriend is in front of you, kissing another woman, prettier and sexier than you, and they were on their way to the hotel. Unfortunately there is no way for you to avoid the subject with him later cause he saw you in the car, he knows that you know.

You are not as sad as you could have imagine you would be, maybe it was because of the shock, maybe not. You are not happy about it either, but you knew he would be bored by you sooner or later. After all, sex is something very difficult for you . It’s difficult to think about it, it’s even more difficult to «do» it and every time you share intimacy with your man, you cannot commit yourself completely and you ended up deceiving him and yourself even more.  It’s hard for you to imagine that one day, a man would penetrate you and that you will feel something else than a burning pain.  The few times you were able to close your eyes, concentrate on something else and let him slide him inside of you, were a disaster. It was painful and every time you ended up crying, feeling like you were raped again.  There were no possibilities for you to experiment any kind of pleasure in those occasions, in any shared occasion to be specific.  You believed those stories your friends were telling you, the endless orgasms they had but as you never experimented this yourself, it’s hard to understand why they are so into it, into sex. You just think that this thing called “orgasm” is not for you, that you are incapable of reaching it at least with somebody else. Even alone, it ain’t that easy or fun.  So you completely understand the fact that your boyfriend needs to see somebody else.

The driver announced you that you will arrive in about 2 minutes. You decide that for now, you have to stop thinking about him, your soon to be ex-boyfriend, and concentrate on the contract you are about to sign. Concentrate on your future work, your future boss, your future life.  You turned off your phone so nobody can reach you, closed your eyes and collected yourself with your breathing.

When Jiyong opened the door , you didn’t had the time to say anything to him, one on his arm was around your waist, the other one on your back and he were hugging you, very tightly. His scent, a subtle and unique fragrance of musk and spice but somehow balanced with a floral note, was comforting. You could now recognise that perfume among them all and associate it with Jiyong, his presence and his kindness. It was a soothing smell and you stopped yourself from sniffing into his clothes.

«I am glad you came, come on in» are the first words he told you, just after he released you from his tight embrace.

«That’s a warm welcome» you said «Here, I brought something for you».

At this very moment, you decided that you won’t talk about what you just saw with him, it makes you feel ashamed. After all, if somebody cheated on you, it has to be your fault, right? Because YOU were the one not satisfying him, right? Jiyong doesn’t need to know how deceiving you are in the bedroom, not that it would interest him in any kind of way.

«Oh, that is so sweet but you shouldn’t have», he says with a shy smile as he take the package from your hands and guide you towards the kitchen.

«Well, you always pay for my food, it’s the least I could do. Just so you know, I ain’t rich so don’t expect something fancy ok?»

«Oh, do I look like a diva?»

«Well, you want me to be honest here?»

He immediately start to protest at your words, but he was laughing so at least, you know you didn’t insult him.

He opened the package and his smile became brighter as he discovered the homemade cookies you baked him and a cute bottle of berry and honey alcohol from your hometown.

«Oh, this is amazing, thank you so much, I don’t remember anybody that had ever baked cookies for me, except for mine and my member's moms.  I am touched”.

«I love to cook, also, I baked those with my niece and nephew this afternoon. They came home and we did that just for you. They don’t know who you are but they know I have a new friend and they told me we should cook something for you, isn’t that cute? We even took a selfie while doing it, wanna see?»

He took your cell phone and looked at the picture you were showing him, his eyes opened wide as he saw you and the twins on the screen.

«Oh! My! God! They look so much like you. I didn’t expect them to be a copy and paste of you. I should have known, their mom is your twin sister after all. But as they are mixed asian and occidental you know, I didn’t figure they would be looking like you…. They are so pretty! Look at the flour on their faces. I am sure it will be the best cookies I have ever had».

«You better like them, we had to redo the recipe three times.  Plus, just so you know their father is half american and half korean, they are a beautiful mix of 3 differents cultures, I think it makes them the most perfect babies in the whole world”.

“No doubt they are”.

You smiled at each other before he adds:

«Do you have a picture of you and your sister?»

After only 2 minutes in his house, you are already sharing a deep conversation. The proximity, the closeness you felt when you were still ignoring the fact he was G Dragon, didn’t change at all and you are happy to realise that his popularity ain’t affecting you as much as you thought it could have.

You scroll down your phone and show him a picture of both you and Evangeline, taken a few years ago, when she was living a better life.

«This is the last picture we have together. Things were not simple between us and 2 years before she died, I cut ties with her. I have lost contact with Leo and Emma as well for 2 years, I saw them again just before the funerals. They were too young to remember me.  Imagine their shock, they knew my existence but that was it, they didn’t remembered me at all, they had the feeling their mom were still alive and they had a very bad reaction.  It took a lot of time for them to separate me and Evangeline, even though we have completely opposite personalities, they often ask me if I am her, even those days”.

“You wanna talk about it”? He asked softly.

“Maybe another time my sweet baby dragon, tonight, we have my contract terms to discuss” you answered with a forced enthusiasm, trying to chase those painful memories from your head. Your boyfriend and your sister are the 2 subjects you want to avoid tonight. He didn't insist.

“Let’s order first, I had a rough day and I am hungry. Wanna eat something specific? Italian, Indian,Japanese, Chinese...?”

You stopped him before he could enumerate more.

“Whatever you want, I am not picky”

He took his cell phone and composed a number by heart, meaning he probably order food very often. You were contemplating the painting on the hallway when he hang on the phone and stood by your right side. Because you didn’t noticed his presence, he gently put his hand on the middle of your back to signify his presence. You jumped at this contact and uttered a cry of surprise.  Even if you feel completely safe in his company, you wouldn’t have come here otherwise, that small contact scared you for a second and as always, when somebody touches you and that you didn’t see it coming, it brings you back to the nightmare you are trying to recover from.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you, once again you were lost in your thoughts” he says with a concern voice, as he take his hand off you.

“Jiyong, I am sorry, you did nothing wrong at all, you just took me by surprise” you shyly answered.

“What are we going to eat tonight?” You asked as you want to change the subject as fast as possible.

“I ordered some indian food, a lot of it. I hope you are hungry”.

“I love Indian food so much, can’t wait to eat”.

Jiyong offered you to visit his house, of course you couldn’t say no that. As you visiting his place, one thing became more and more obvious for you, this man loves art in all its forms. Everywhere you were looking, there were paintings. Some were isolated by themselves on a big wall, others were grouped together but most of all, all of them were working together in a perfect harmony.

His entire house seemed to have been thought out to create a special atmosphere between pure design snobbery and the funny side of a rebellious artist. It was just so perfectly Jiyong, something and his complete opposite at the same time.

“Jiyong oppa, your house is wonderful, you thought every detail of it. Every little thing is in place, it’s fascinating”.

“Do you love it?”, he nervously asks in a whisper, he is afraid of the answer you will give him since he really wants you to love his house, his concerned could be read on his face.

“I absolutely love it. I mean, it’s impossible not to love it when we love you. This place, it’s like coming inside of your head, it reflect your personality so well. You took some rebellious painting but you disposed them in a very classic and geometrical way, it’s hard to describe... And the colors are representing you as well.  Basically it’s a calm and peaceful neutral tone, just as your peaceful and calm personality, the first impression we have when we meet you. Then, you accentuate everything with a violent palette of red and you softened it with some smooth purple details, it’s wonderful. What I mean by that is hard to explain, I hope you understand me.  I can say without hesitation that you are the one who designed all of it, every little detail. Also I feel like you are very happy in this house but not so much at the same time….. Ji, this design is you, totally and 100% you, it’s YOUR place. I wish that one day, somebody will be able to penetrate in here and do a change or two, it will mean that you are less alone and that you opened your heart and soul to somebody else”.

Because you were so excited about the discovery you made about his place, you were talking really fast and waving your hands up in the air, showing and pointing the things you were talking about. You did not pay attention to Jiyong until you finished your little speech. When you turned around, waiting for him to say something, you realized that a big tear was running down on his cheek.

“Have I said something wrong”? you asked as you walked towards him, taking both of his hands in yours.  You are so direct and unfiltered sometimes, you forget that what you say can hurt the people around you and you don’t want to hurt him in any way.

“It’s the opposite, I am overwhelmed that you can read my mind thought something as basic as furniture, colors on a wall and decoration”.

“Ji, nothing that you touch or think is just basic. I am persuaded that everything you do is always overthought”.

As you finished to say it, you lift his left hand, brings it in to your lips and gently kiss his smiley tattoo.  Then you rub your nose on the back of his hand.  You have no idea why you are doing it, you would never take your friend’s hand and just kiss it like that. But at that very moment, this is something you felt the urge to do. To show him your affection? To make him understand you accept him and all his complexity? Because you need to let him know he is not alone with his loneliness, that yours might be even worse? You don’t know. But one thing is sure, Jiyong is someone with whom you feel connected like you've never felt connected before, with anybody else. It’s even strange because you have the feeling you have known him for years but it’s been only a week or so.

His reaction is automatic.  As soon as he felt you snuggling your nose on the back of his hand, his right hand went in between your shoulder blade and he gently brings you to him, resting his temple on the side of your head as he closes his eyes and just feels your body against his.  Never in his life he felt so understood without having to explain himself, he never felt accepted completely for who he believes he really is. But there you were, in the middle of his living room, understanding him like you knew each other for years, pointing out things even his best friends never noticed.  For him, you are a blessing and at this very moment, he is scared that one day you might just disappear from his life, that you were just passing by just like all the other girls. Even though he felt naked, exposed and vulnerable in your presence, he his comfortable to feel that way. Strangely, this sensation, instead of scaring him, comfort him. Is this love? He doesn’t know for sure. But with you in his arms like this, he is happy and for now, that’s all that matters.

“Let me ask you, what is your favorite room in the house”? he asks, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

“Hum….. let me think about it… I would say your bathroom! Jeez, have you seen your bathtub? I could swim in it!  You would lose me for hours in there, relaxing in the hot water”.  You said, lifting up your head to look at him in the eyes. His beautiful, intelligent brown eyes.

The doorbell rings and you both head to the front door to grab the food.You waited for him to pay the delivery guy, of course he wouldn’t let you pay and you came back in the living room, hands full of paper bags and carton boxes.

“Oppa, you should know by now that I don’t eat like a pig”.

He laughed and says:

“I know, I know! But if you have a lot of choice, chances are that you will most likely love your meal”.

“I would have also love a simple meal, you know”

“I don’t know your taste yet, next time we order I will know your preferences and I will order less, is this okay with you?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

You just smiled in response, the fact that he just said that he wants share another meal with you filled you up with joy and pride. At least, someone was choosing to be with you.

You opened the boxes and spread them on the coffee table, both of you sitting on the floor, facing each other.  As none of you had your own plate, you were picking what you wanted to eat directly in the boxes. That relaxed atmosphere was what you miss the most from friends and family reunion back home, those kind of friendly meals has always your favorites.

While you were eating, the subject of your salary came back to the subject and he was inflexible, he won’t change the amount he is offering you, this is the only term he won’t modify.  As soon as you realised there was no way to make him change his mind, you happily agreed to signed your 2 years, exclusive contract with him and his company Peace minus one.

The terms of the contract were the same as the ones discussed by phone (except for the salary that is), you will have to create an individualized program to put him  (and keep him) in good shape and fit enough to go on a world tour in a few months. You will also have to follow him on tour and assist him with his training, stretching, yoga sessions and every detail regarding his physical health. You have to be able to refer him to the right professionals as needed if the problem is out of your capacity. Mainly, you are responsible of his physical condition.  Nothing less than that.  

As for his company, you’ll have to create two separate training locations, a gym and a yoga room.  You will have to select and purchase all the necessary devices to built a full gym. You also have to give a few Yoga class every week.  As for the gym, you will have to hire someone that will be able to assist the employees with their training program, Jiyong thinking you won’t have the time to do it yourself. Well, you will see about that.

When you both agreed on the terms of the contract, Jiyong came in the kitchen to take a pen for you to sign the documents. You couldn’t help yourself, it was such an easy joke to do, he must have hear people sing this to him 1000 times at least since he released that song but you couldn’t stop yourself from standing up and start singing, swaying your hips from the left to the right, pointing at him:

«Why so serious…. Come on girl….. Come on boy… Come on…. Come on…. Get your crayon, crayon».

You found yourself pathetically hilarious and you started to laugh at your own joke as Jiyong was hiding himself behind his hands, trying to hide his face in his clothes.

«Ahhhh, stop it you are embarrassing me oooooh, please»

He was shyly looking at you, laughing but embarrassed.

«Kwon Jiyong, what did you have in mind when you composed that song. I mean… it’s good, but, it ain’t THAT good»

«Hey, don’t laugh at me, you mean woman»

But he was laughing at himself as well.

«It was not my best song, ok? Stop it»

You stopped to dance, came by his side and put your arm under his as you said:

«It was not your best song, but dammit, in that video, you were such a pretty girl»

Both of you laughed at your joke and started to dance and sing along together.  After a few minutes of  imitating a younger «GDragon», you collapsed on the couch together, side by side, still laughing and heavily breathing.

«Do you regret hiring me? You still have time to change your mind»

He changed his position on the couch, turned to face you and said:

«I couldn’t have been more happy about my decision.  Thanks for letting me be Jiyong. Just Jiyong».

«Well then, Just Jiyong, should we sign now?»

«We definitely should miss sassiness».

Later that night, when you arrived in your empty apartment, you were still laughing at the moments you have shared with him. You realised, as you closed your eyes in the darkness of your room that you were not missing your absent boyfriend but craving for Jiyong’s presence and that was scaring the shit out of you.

[terresdebrumestories]

Chapter 4/4: Start over

✗ TECHNICAL DETAILS

FANDOM: Digimon Adventure 01/02/Tri RATING: Mature. WORDCOUNT: 10 247 PAIRING(S): Endgame Taito, though the fic is primarily Taichi-centric. Side pairings include Takeru/Hikari and discussion of past Sorato. CHARACTER(S): Taichi Kamiya, Yamato Ishida, Hikari Kamiya, Takeru Takashi, Daisuke Motomiya, Agumon, Veemon, Gabumon, Sora Takenoushi, and mentions of the rest of the gang. GENRE: Friends to friends-with-bonus-kissing. Also future!fic. TRIGGER WARNING(S): Depression and discussion thereof, including one briefly mentioned suicide attempt in chapter two. SUMMARY: In which Taichi has questionable ways to handle his issues, everyone tries to be nice, and Yamato yells at him a lot. Same old, same old, except for the part where there’s kissing.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS: [I. Epic Fail] [II. Rock Bottom] [III. Get Up]

Despite her father’s protests, Ms. Takashi insists to drop Taichi off at his place before she drives home. It’s almost a two kilometers detour, but it does mean Taichi will get to exit the car sooner, and he’s willing to bet Ms. Takashi appreciates that as much as he does. They go through the ride in silence, barely broken by Mr. Takashi’s increasingly feeble attempts at starting a conversation, and by the time they pull up in front of Taichi’s building it’s all he can do not to burst out of the car and flee without a word.

He hurries through the goodbyes, trying his best not to catch anyone’s eyes, and bites on a sigh when Yamato mumbles a quick ‘I’ll walk you’ before exiting the car in turn, without regard for his mother’s attempt at protesting.

They stride across the sidewalk in silence, back resolutely turned to Ms. and Mr. Takashi, pass the double glass doors without a word—Taichi doesn’t even mutter half-hearted threats at the faulty key to his mailbox—and come to a halt in front of the elevator while they wait for it to come back from the twelfth floor. On his left, Taichi can feel, more than he sees, the way Yamato purses his lips in concentration, giving Taichi ample time to cringe at what is sure to be coming before he finally says:

“’Maybe Gabumon has a sister’,” dragging the words out to maximize their power.

It works admirably well, and it feels like eighty percent of Taichi’s blood floods up to his face in the a split second as he covers his eyes with one hand and all but begs:

“Please stop talking.”

“No, really,” Yamato insists without looking away from the elevator, “it’s an interesting strategy to avoid that dinner.”

“I’m never gonna be able to look your mom in the eyes again,” Taichi half-whines, the heat in his face so bad he almost wants to take his coat off.

“Look at it form the bright side,” Yamato continues, voice ridiculously—and unfairly—steady throughout it all, “at least you know you deserve your crest—it takes a lot of courage to suggest people take up best—”

“Oh my god,” Taichi exclaims, burying his face in his hands, seconds away from puffing smoke out of his ears, “just shut up!”

“Relax,” Yamato says, laughter seeping in at the edge of his voice, “it worked—the families meeting is definitely postponed now.”

Taichi uncovers his face just long enough to smack his friend in the arm—it doesn’t quiet him down, though, just makes him throw his head back in a bark of laughter that could put his grandfather to shame.

“It’s your fault anyway,” Taichi protests, fingers muffling his words, “if you didn’t hate your family so much—”

“I don’t hate them,” Yamato cuts in, tone just firm enough to make Taichi come out of his little hiding place, “it’s not my fault they still want to pretend their divorce never happened.”

“Okay,” Taichi concedes, softening his voice as he knocks his shoulder against Yamato’s, “but if you didn’t put so much effort in keeping us apart I wouldn’t have panicked, and we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Which would be a shame,” Yamato answers, shoulders barely even stiffening as he speaks, “since I’d have missed your face just now.”

Taichi’s face contorts in surprise and mock offense as Yamato snorts in laughter again, and they exchange a few weak punches before the elevator doors ding open in front of them. Taichi pulls his tongue out at Yamato as he steps inside and pushes the ‘close ’ button with a grin threatening to break out on his face. Yamato rolls his eyes at first, then his face contracts and he holds the door back, mouth pinched with the weird kind of solemnity that comes with important topics.

“Do you think we should do this? The dinner, I mean?”

“I...think your granddad wants to know who his grandsons friends are,” Taichi says, thinking of the many times Yamato declined to have dinner with his family when there wasn’t anything actually in the way, “and I think your mom’s just trying to be your mom again.”

“She’s sixteen years too late,” Yamato snaps—Taichi, who sometimes still refers to his parents’ flat as ‘home’, watches him pause, pinch at the bridge of his nose, and take a deep breath before he says: “the old man and her—they think I made a choice, but I didn’t. I was nine!”

“Yamato—”

“Look, I’ve waited thirteen years for them to be my parents again,” Yamato insists—Taichi almost turns away from him when his voice thickens, but Yamato hasn’t tried to hide his wounds from him for years. He’s not about to stop looking at them—“I’m done. I wish I weren’t, but I’m done.”

“Okay,” Taichi says, knowing better than to push the topic.

Neither he nor Yamato are in a state where they can really handle this conversation—years and years of trying to bridge such a defining gap in their understandings of the world has taught them this, at least: family talks never end well unless proper conditions are met.

Standing in a public hallway while they hog the elevator to themselves doesn’t even come close.

“Fine,” Yamato says after a while, wincing when two sharp honks pierce through the air, “let’s do this.”

“You don’t have to,” Taichi reminds his friend but, well.

He knows what the look on Yamato’s face means, and he knows it’d take a severe beating and quite a lot of yelling to change the guy’s mind now.

(He should know, he’s done this before.)

“You’re my best friend,” Yamato starts, and Taichi can’t help but interrupt with:

“Second best friend.”

“Yeah, okay—”

“Or should that be third? Because Sora—”

“Taichi!” Yamato protests as his mother’s car—although, Taichi would bet, not Ms. Takashi herself—honks again, “are you even going to let me finish?”

“Sorry,” Taichi replies, fingers itching to hit the ‘close doors’ button, “go on.”

“You’re my best friend,” Yamato says again, almost like it’s no big deal except for the way his knuckles have grown white as he grasps the elevator threshold and the way his blue eyes won’t let go of Taichi’s, “and I know it matters to you. So let’s do this.”

“Okay,” Taichi replies, too breathless for comfort. Then, when the unexpected moment threatens to stress him out even more: “I can’t believe we’re close enough for you to invite me into your other life.”

“Okay that’s it,” Yamato says, rolling his eyes as he straightens up, “I’m canceling the thing!”

“No, no, no!” Taichi protests, laughter creeping into his voice even as Yamato grunts when someone honks again, “no take backs allowed! I’m officially meeting your parents!”

Yamato’s face grows four shades redder than usual as he all but throws himself away from the elevator, spluttering something indistinct about his father not being invited—no surprise there—and Taichi puts his best grin on as the elevator dings to signal the end of its wait.

“Think of all the embarrassing baby stories I’ll get to hear!” Taichi yells through the closing door, and laughs when Yamato slices a finger across his neck.

{ooo}

“You’re in a good mood,” Agumon remarks when Taichi enters the apartment a few minutes later, “that’s nice!”

“Yeah, it is,” Taichi agrees as he hangs his keys next to the door, “it’s been a while. Where are the others?”

“They phoned earlier,” Agumon explains while Taichi marches to the kitchen and dives into the fridge without waiting—he’s feeling ravenous, and if he’s got to wait for his roommates to come back before he can eat he’s going to need some sustenance—“said they’d be out late and we shouldn’t wait for them.”

“Really?”

Taichi pauses in his exploration of the—empty—quarter of the fridge not devoted to Daisuke’s professional supplies to frown in surprise. Veemon and Daisuke have been coming back from work exhausted every night for a while now—it’s a cause for celebration in that it means their business is doing well, but it also makes the news surprising.

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know,” Agumon replies—Taichi doesn’t have to see him to know he’s shrugging, and he can’t help but return the gesture, even hidden behind the fridge door.

“Just the two of us then,” he says with a smile, “wanna order some Chinese?”

“You don’t like Chinese food,” Agumon remarks when Taichi straightens up—he blinks, a little owlishly, when their eyes meet, but Taichi shrugs:

“Felt like indulging you. It’s been too long since I did that.”

Agumon doesn’t bounce in place—he’s been doing that less often lately, and while at first Taichi wondered if maybe that was his fault, or at least due to his state of mind, it ‘s starting to look more like one of the little ways in which Agumon ages, too. Instead, Taichi finds himself looking down at interrogative green eyes, Agumon’s head tilting to the side as he works on the question he obviously wants to ask.

“What?”

“You really are in a very good mood,” Agumon says.

He grins, wide and a little smug like he’s figured something out that Taichi hasn’t yet, before he turns around and leaves the kitchen. Taichi blinks after him for a second or two, but then—why be picky? He’s in a good mood, Agumon is in a good mood, there’s no reason to try and dissect the situation, after all.

He smiles, unsurprised, when Agumon suggests walking to the restaurant instead of ordering through the phone.

{ooo}

“How long has it been since we did that? It feel like it’s been ages!”

“It probably has,” Taichi admits.

They’re on their way back, strolling along the semi-empty streets in their matching winter coat—Taichi always thought the identical outfits were a bit too much, but Agumon was so happy when Sora offered to make them he didn’t have the heart to protest. They’ve been doing this for a couple of years now, pulling the thing out of storage every winter, and Taichi is finally getting ready to admit it’s actually little cute, sometimes.

“We have to do that more often,” he says with a contented sigh, “I missed it. It’ll be nice.”

“Oh,” Agumon adds, the familiar bounce back in his step, “we should go with the others too! We can invite Sora and Biyomon for the weekend, and Mimi and Palmon can portal back, and we’d all go to the restaurant together to celebrate Yamato and Gabumon’s visit! Wouldn’t that be nice? We never do that in the human world.”

Taichi pauses at that, trying to picture what the evening would be like—all their friends gathered together like old times, with the same cheap food and the same silly jokes they used to build and maintain their friendships with. This time, the digimons wouldn’t have to pretend they’re toys though. They’d have their own seats and their own plates and their own orders and they’d be able to talk and laugh and joke with the rest of the group, as carefree and loud as decency would allow.

They’d talk about the good old days, jokes about the things they’ve done, the places they’ve been, the friends they met...and none of it would ring a bell for Agumon, or Gabumon, or any of the older ones.

Taichi’s smile falters a little, and Agumon stiffens beside him, sensing the problem before he even really has to guess it—he’s looking for something to say, maybe even a way to change the topic, claws clicking in the air, when Taichi surprises them both by saying:

“Actually, we’ve done it plenty of times before.”

He’s not sure why he said it—it scratches at the corner of his eyes, tightens his throat on the last words, but he doesn’t stop. Keeping his mouth shut about this—about a lot of other things but mostly, he’s come to realize in therapy, about this—hasn’t exactly worked in his favor so far, after all. He might as well keep going.

Besides, he reminds himself as he watches Agumon carefully school his features to dim his curiosity, he’s not the only one who needs to have this conversation.

“There was this coffee shop,” he explains, laying a hand on Agumon’s shoulder and drawing strength from the contact, “we’d meet there when we needed to talk about what needed to be done about the Digiworld, back when Daisuke and the others were called.”

“Why not before that?” Agumon asks with a blink, and Taichi’s lips twist into a half-nostalgic, half-bitter smirk:

“It was different for us. We got pulled into the Digital World—that’s how we know about the tramway.”

“And why not meet at one of your houses?” Agumon continues, quite clearly hanging on to every word.

God, they really should have had this conversation a long time ago.

“Their parents didn’t know digimons existed,” Taichi says with an apologetic shrug, “I mean, my parents and Ms. Takashi knew about you guys, but they were the only ones, and they weren’t too happy about us having to save the world and all. We’d done this alone before—didn’t have a choice the first time around. That time, we just thought the time we’d have to lose trying to explain the situation, to convince Daisuke’s parents, and Iori’s mom, and all the others, that we weren’t crazy—it didn’t seem worth the risk of losing the Digiworld, or having our own parents find out. For the most part we barely even thought of getting the adults involved, though at some point we ended up not having a choice anymore.”

Taichi shrugs again, and puts a lot of effort into not looking away when Agumon nods the eerie silence of late winter falling over them like a thick coat of snow over a sleeping town. Taichi, still gripping Agumon’s shoulder, forces his fingers to relax one by one, and he’s surprised to find the gesture releases a tension in his stomach he was barely aware of, like untying a knot.

Agumon, deep in thought, doesn’t seem to realize what’s going on, so Taichi puts the quiet time to good use and breathes in deep through his nose, exhaling through his mouth and trying to picture the bad feelings—the nightmares, the loss, the sense of something irrevocably missing—exiting his body along with the thick puff of white smoke he blows out into the wind.

After a while, Agumon says:

“Some of the others won’t want to do this, will they?”

“Maybe not,” Taichi agrees, unable to figure out who’s more liable to refuse.

It’s not like they’ve talked about this enough among themselves for him to have a clear idea of what they think or feel on the topic.

“If they do say no,” Agumon continues, hesitating somewhere in the middle, “can the two of us still go? I’d like to see the places where we were together.”

It takes Taichi a few seconds to answer—take a deep breath first, bracing himself against the first, cowardly instinct telling him to say no and run for the hills before he can nod.

“Okay,” he says with a slight tremor in his voice, “let’s do that.”

{ooo}

‘I told Agumon we’d visit our old hangout spots in Odaiba,’ Taichi texts Yamato that night as he lays in bed, stomach too full to sleep.

Agumon, as always, seems entirely impervious to the very concept of over-eating, and he’s already snoring the night away in his hammock, the sound more soothing than it has any real right to be. Taichi tries to focus on it to keep his mind busy—or at least, keep the anxious thoughts at bay—and it works so well his heart skips a beat when his phone vibrates against his chest.

‘any particular reason?’

Taichi glances at his alarm clock and frowns: it’s past midnight here, which means it has to be class time back in Paris. He’s wondering what possessed Yamato to break his self-imposed ‘no texting back unless it’s life or death’ rule, when he remembers Yamato is right there in Japan, probably jet-lagged to hell and unable to sleep as a result.

The thought makes Taichi grin as he types:

‘He said we never did outings with the whole group in the human world. I figured it was time he heard the truth.’

‘Congratulations,’ comes Yamato’s reply, and Taichi muffles a snort in his hand before he asks:

‘What for?’

‘1. Ur the 1st to do it. 2. I know its not easy.’

Taichi snorts, and then sobers up as he admits:

‘I don’t want to do it. Feels like I’m going to lose him again.’

Yamato’s answer is longer in coming this time— Taichi has time to put the phone back down on his chest and stare at Agumon, silhouetted in the dim lights of the city as he shuffles in his hammock. It’s ridiculous, really—he’s right there, and he’s not about to vanish into thin air because he sees a place he doesn’t remember.

Taichi has been down this road before—making new memories, introducing Agumon to the city he grew up in—and it didn’t end very well for him.

‘I think we should all do it,’ Yamato’s next text reads when Taichi thumbs it open , ‘itd be better 4 all of us’

Taichi frowns at his phone and sighs. Yamato is probably right—at the very least, Taichi agrees with him on the most part—but it’s not like either of them can make the rest of the group join the train without upsetting them to frightening degrees. Taichi himself would gladly take his promise back if it didn’t mean hurting Agumon for no reason.

‘Im serious,’ Yamato texts again when Taichi waits too long before he answers, ‘its been 8yrs. Its time we quit making the other walking on eggshells bc they got lucky & we didnt.’

‘I know,’ Taichi answers him, blinking against the sudden brightness of his bedside lamp, breathing wet when he tries to brace himself for the second part of his message: ‘I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.’

He lets the sob that’s been building in his throat slip past his lips, as quiet as he can manage, and clings to his phone until he feels it vibrate between his fingers again. Then he turns the light off—lowers the screen brightness to spare his eyes—and rolls on his side before he reads Yamato’s answer:

‘idk,’ it reads, ‘im not. Uve never backed down so far tho. Don’t think u will now’

Taichi smiles at that, throat tight around the things he’s been clinging to for the past eight years, and it takes him several tries before he manages to type:

‘Are you crying?’

‘shutup’

‘I’m crying.’

It’s not even an exaggeration, although Taichi kind of wishes it were. There’s no point in pretending the contrary though—ignoring the burning trails sliding along his c heeks, ove r his nose and into the pillow as he tries to stay quiet so he won’t wake his partner up won’t make anything disappear.

Outside in the living room, the entrance door clicks open and shut in rapid succession, and the next buzz of Taichi’s phone comes backed up by Daisuke’s voice hissing at Veemon to be quiet.

‘me too,’ Yamato admits.

Taichi smiles at that—wonders how much effort it took for Yamato to type the message, let alone actually hit send. At least it proves he’s not alone in this ridiculous, stupid boat. He still has his best friend by his side, like always—as it always should be, really—and that makes things a little less overwhelming.

‘Do you want to come along?’ He sends, almost without thinking, ‘I think I’m going to need a rehearsal if I want to stay dignified when we do this all together.’

‘of course. wouldnt want 2 damage ur image of fearless leader ;)’

‘You’re a butt.’

‘butt u like me,’ Yamato replies, dragging a snort out of Taichi—he muffles it into his pillow, cheeks aching with an abrupt grin, but Agumon still stirs in his sleep.

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ he tells Yamato ‘Agumon is going to wake up.’

‘sry. When do u wanna go?’

‘Ideally, tomorrow, but my schedule is full so....Tuesday?’

‘can’t thats when Papy wants to invite u guys. Ur dad already said yes.’

‘Fine,’ Taichi replies, shrugging as he types, ‘Wednesday then?’

‘ok’

‘Good. See you Tuesday then. Now go to sleep.’

‘yes mom’

Taichi takes a picture of him pulling his tongue out—between the excessive contrast, his puffy face, and the weird angle, it looks bad enough that Hikari would probably gasp in horror at the sight of it, but it makes Taichi laugh, so he sends it anyway.

He gets a little heart in response, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t make his stomach flutter a little.

{ooo}

Taichi emerges from his bedroom at ten past six the next day, bleary-eyed and wishing he could go back to sleep with every fiber of his being. There are classes to attend though, official business to pay attention to, and he’s so focused on not being late he almost doesn’t notice Daisuke, tying his shoelaces in front of the door.

“You’re late,” Taichi yawns, one hand scrapping at his scalp while the other covers his mouth, “you’re never late.”

“We stayed out late last night,” Daisuke says around a mouthful of what looks like an onigiri.

Taichi almost remarks midnight hasn’t been a very late hour since Daisuke started working in the food industry, but that would mean admitting he was awake at the time, too, and he doesn’t want to do that.

“Oh,” he says instead, “did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah, we were with—” Daisuke falters a little, swallows the last of his food with an audible gulp as he stares up at Taichi and finishes: “uh, a friend.”

“Good for you,” Taichi tells him with a smile.

He pads through the living room and into the kitchen then, navigating by smell more than sight until he’s more or less sticking his nose into the mug Agumon fixed for him and left on the table. The smell of dried leaves fill Taichi’s nostrils, bringing a gust of wakefulness into his brain, and he sighs. That’s a good way to start the day.

Taichi rubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands, and he’s reaching for the rice cooker, hoping to make something appetizing out of the leftovers, when Daisuke clears his throat in the kitchen doorway. Taichi stares at him—at the way Veemon presses close to his knees, at his shoes, which he hasn’t bothered taking off before he walked back inside.

“I was with Akiko,” Daisuke says with a small, almost unnoticeable shift of his weight, “you know, the girl—”

“Yes,” Taichi agrees, aware he’s cutting Daisuke off but too eager to dispel the awkwardness to act otherwise, “I remember.”

“Oh. Good,” Daisuke says, “well, I was—we were with her, and it kinda—that was sort of a date?”

Taichi smiles at the news, pleased—and maybe a tiny bit relieved, too—that he doesn’t have to put any effort into it.

“I’m glad for you,” he says, and chuckles when Daisuke’s surprised blink turns into a frown.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” Taichi promises, reminding himself it’s his fault Daisuke is acting skeptical now, “I gave you terrible advice last time—and not all of it came from a good place either.”

Both he and Daisuke color at the reminder, but honestly, Taichi should be the embarrassed one, here.

“This time, you’re making your decisions on your own, and I finally have the brains to be happy for you instead of an over possessive ass.”

“You kind of were,” Daisuke says with a rueful smile, “but I’m glad you’re happy.”

Veemon whoops, prompting Taichi and Agumon to laugh at him a little, and then Agumon all but chases their roommates out of the door before they get really late and start disappointing their g rowing crowds of re g ul ars. Taichi and Agumon settle at the table in silence, Taichi humming under his breath as he goes, and Agumon grins.

“You’re in a good mood again,” he says while he settles leftover chicken and a couple of eggs between their two bowls.

“I am,” Taichi agrees.

“Even though we’re going to visit Odaiba tomorrow?”

Taichi feels his smile falter as he looks at his partner. It’s not that the good mood has vanished, per se—but the topic at hand would put a damper on most conversations, he’s pretty sure. He takes a sip of his tea, mostly to give himself time before he has to speak—and says:

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it tomorrow. Yamato’s grandfather wants to have dinner with us,” he explains when Agumon’s features shift from caution to betrayed surprise, “we’re invited at Ms. Takashi’s place tomorrow night. Do you mind a lot if we do this Wednesday? I can shift my meetings around so I’ll be done earlier.”

“Oh,” Agumon says with obvious relief, “no, that’s okay! I’m sure dinner with Yamato’s family will be enough for one day.”

“That’s what I figured,” Taichi agrees with a nervous chuckle. He sips at his tea again before he asks: “and, uh...do you mind if Yamato and Gabumon come along? I’m not sure they will—I don’t know if Gabumon has agreed yet—but I’d like to have some support there while we do this, if you don’t mind?”

“Okay,” Agumon agrees, relief turning into a little smile, “I think I could use a friend there, too.”

Taichi nods, sort of wishing they could invite Tentomon along, if only for Agumon’s sake—they are, after all, closer than Agumon and Gabumon are—but if he’s being honest, this isn’t a moment he’s comfortable sharing with anyone other than Yamato. Not even Noeru.

{ooo}

Dinner at Ms. Takashi’s turns out to be about as awkward as Taichi anticipated—more so, even, when the picture albums got taken out of their shelves, and the rarefaction of Yamato’s face as the years went by was impossible to miss—and Taichi comes out of it kind of wishing he could just erase it from his memory.

There’s no real disaster to mourn for though—awkward silences and one moment where Taichi kind of thought Yamato would manage to pick up a fight with his mother right then and there about cooking, of all things—and Yamato’s chuckle when Taichi remarks as much is short, filled with nerves and things he probably thought but didn’t say.

“Yeah. Could have been worse,” he admits, running a hand in his hair, “remind me to send something nice to your sister—I think she single-handedly saved the day there.”

That, in Taichi’s opinion, was more of a collective effort—between Mr. Takashi, Takeru, and Taichi’s family, the whole thing managed to end on an awkward, but ultimately not really harmful note, which is probably the best they could have hoped for. Yamato won’t be the only one sending baskets around in the upcoming days, but he knows better than to say that.

“So,” he says instead of voicing the thought, forcing his tone to remain light and vaguely unconcerned, “do I have to come in or can I trust you not to fight with your father?”

“I don’t think he’s here,” Gabumon replies from where he’s unlocking the door already, “no need to be worried.”

“I don’t fight with him,” Yamato retorts with a playful shove at Gabumon’s head, “you can’t fight with someone you don’t talk to.”

Taichi shrugs, not quite acquiescence, not quite apology, and gives Yamato a playful punch in the shoulder.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” Yamato sighs, tired fondness filling his smile, “thanks for sticking around for a bit.”

“No problem,” Taichi says without even needing to think about it, “see you tomorrow?”

“Four PM,” Yamato replies with a nod, “we’ll be there.”

{ooo}

When they reach the newly renamed DigiCafe on Wednesday, mist clings at the edge of the windows, almost masking the digimon-friendly announcements—‘We provide adapted seats!’ one of the signs proclaims, while another shows a cartoonish Biyomon swirling in a specially-made Kimono Taichi recognizes as Sora’s design, and announces the existence of a fashion corner somewhere at the back of the cafe. Taichi smiles into his thick scarf at the sight.

“I knew she had a partnership with a coffee shop,” he remarks to Agumon, who stands shivering beside him, “but I didn’t know she meant this one.”

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” Agumon asks, and Taichi shrugs.

It doesn’t really matter whether Sora chose this specific shop for their history with it, after all, so long as her work gets the success it deserves. Agumon doesn’t seem too bothered by Taichi’s lack of curiosity, though, as he turns back to the window and stick his nose to it, trying to see what’s going on inside. Taichi rolls his eyes at him with a little chuckle, glances at his watch—almost five past four already—and grins when he finally spots Yamato and Gabumon walking up the street.

“Finally!” He calls out, purposefully exaggerating the impatience in his voice, “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get there!”

“It’s barely been five minutes,” Yamato protests while Gabumon, after a perfunctory greeting for Taichi, goes to look through the windows alongside Agumon, “calm down.”

“You’re right,” Taichi agrees with mock solemnity, “by your standards you’re positively early.”

Yamato grimaces, shoving at Taichi’s shoulder without malice, and Taichi snorts a little before he suggests they step inside.

“I don’t know how you can stand the weather dressed like this,” he says, gesturing at Yamato’s open jacket over a thin woolen jumper, “but some of us are non-furred reptiles.”

“It’s below zero in Paris these days,” Yamato shrugs as he nods and holds the door open for the others to step through, “makes six degrees feel toasty.”

Inside, the shop is peppered with pink and red hearts in preparation for Valentine’s day, and Taichi pauses on the welcome mat to take it all in. The walls have changed colors, and the counter was replaced at some point in the past eight years, but the tables are the same, and the large booth they used to sit in is still there at the back, framed by digimon-oriented fashion instead of potted plants. A couple of customers come in behind them, shuffling around their little group to find tables to sit at and casting curious glances at them.

“Am I the only one who feels like we’re making a bit of a scene?” Yamato asks, and Taichi shrugs.

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less. We’ve earned it.”

Yamato snorts at that, but he knocks their shoulders together, and Taichi smiles. They have earned this moment. They’ve spent so many hours there, as children and as teenagers—emergency meeting, worried and tense, where the digimon had to pretend to be plush toys between two sentences, but more simple times too. How many times did they gather here here to talk about the things they’d seen, the things they’d done, the things they couldn’t tell anyone else about?

Mimi cried her heart out here, on the verge of moving to America, knowing she’d have to miss everyone else on top of Palmon. Takeru banged his fist against the wood when they tried to tell him his obsession with angels had gone too far. They’ve all cried and laughed and argued here, so much of their lives left between the walls they all knew the staff by heart by the time they had to go through with the Reboot.

They’d planned on taking Meiko here, too—not just the crisis meetings she’d seen since entering the group, but a proper group outing. They’d been tossing ideas around for ways to bring her more fully into their little family—simple, gentle pranks they could play on her to mark her arrival properly...but of course, those never came to pass .

The Reboot happened. Mimi left for the U.S. again. Yamato got accepted in the exchange program for Moscow. Sora started thinking about Kyoto for her superior studies. Before they knew it—before anyone had time to blink—they scattered around Tokyo—around the world—and forgot about their plans for Meiko’s welcome, too caught up in a grief she understood but didn’t quite share.

“I think it’s time we sat down,” Yamato says after a long silence—Taichi jumps a little, but he nods anyway

He ignores the new, pastel-green paint on the walls, glances at the chocolate- colored couches without seeing them, and breathes through the longing in his chest when they sit down together, the whole scene missing at least twelve protagonists to be considered complete. The coat stand that spared their group countless questions and awkward moment is still there—the chip in one of the tables, too, under its fresh coat of brown paint—and the waitress who walks up to their table looks painfully familiar, even though Taichi can’t seem to remember her name.

He orders whatever Yamato is having, brain too full with statics to pay any kind of attention to something as trivial as a drink, and blinks a couple of time to try and clear his head. It doesn’t work.

“They changed it,” Yamato remarks—Taichi blinks in confusion, until he realizes his friend is talking about the coat stand.

The bottom of it, more specifically, is brand new—the owners must have gotten the same model then. Taichi smiles—chuckles, even, and says:

“You can hardly blame them.”

“Why’s that?” Gabumon asks, abandoning what seemed to be a rather thorough observation of the street outside the window, “what happened?”

“Tokomon chewed through it once,” Yamato replies with a little smile—on Taichi’s left, Agumon laughs at the thought, and Taichi rolls his eyes.

“Laugh all you want,” he tells his partner, “one time I had to pull you off a hat because you though the fruits on it were real.”

This time it’s Gabumon who snorts, muffling the sound behind his hand while Agumon reddens, expression more sheepish than the situation really requires. They have, after all, had moments here that were far more delicate than that. At least with the coat rack, all they had to do was act surprised and ask if anyone had come in with a dog.

Agumon laughs when Taichi tells him as much and, before long, he and Gabumon start asking questions one after the other, so fast it’s like they’re afraid they won’t have time for them all—which, is Taichi is being honest, is partially his and Yamato’s fault for being so tight lipped. There’s no resentment in their attitude though, no re strained anger that Taichi can sense, and that, more than anything else, soothes his nerves. He speaks more freely after that—slips into the enthusiasm of the moment, recalling one story after the other, laughing at the anecdotes he hasn’t heard yet and, for the first time in nearly nine years, smiles when he thinks of the things that happened before.

In many ways, it’s a bit like going back to the Digital World and visiting the places he used to know—like taking Agumon home after the Reboot happened and they learned how to be friends again: same as it was before, except for the parts where it’s not. It doesn’t hurt as much this time around.

“Shit,” Yamato exclaims later on, while Taichi is in the middle of telling their partners about their first meeting with Frigimon, and how he couldn’t feel his butts for hours afterwards, “I think they’re closing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Taichi replies with a roll of his eyes, “they’re open until seven.”

Yamato’s wrist all but knocks him in the nose as he shoves his watch under Taichi’s nose, and Taichi can’t help but pull a surprised grimace when he sees the time. So, maybe he got a little lost in the moment there, because he really didn’t notice it was so late.

Then again, who could blame him? He hasn’t been in the same room as Yamato in ages—excepting Ms. Takashi’s dinner, that is, but that was nowhere near as comfortable as this afternoon has been—hasn’t talked about all these things in years, and he’d almost forgotten how fun it can be to spend time with his best friend.

He muses about this as they pay for their teas and bicker about who should pay the bill, since Yamato ended up drinking both cups of teas—‘next time just pay attention to what you’re ordering, dummy.’ ‘why do I even put up with you?’—and while they get dressed to face the cold. They’re about to says goodbye when Taichi blurts:

“Wanna go get dinner?”

Agumon whoops in assent, and Gabumon approves with a large smile—at that point, Taichi knows, Yamato doesn’t really have a choice anymore, but he doesn’t look bothered in the least when he agrees. Taichi might grin a little too hard at that, but hey, this is Yamato. If he can’t be a bit a of a weirdo with his best friend, he’ll never manage it, will he?

“Can we got to that ramen place Veemon keeps talking about?” Agumon asks with a hopeful look, “it sounds delicious, and I’ve always wanted to go but—”

“Only if they do takeaway,” Yamato warns with a sigh, scratching at Gabumon’s head, “I think I’ve had enough emotions for today.”

“Yeah,” Taichi agrees, “plus it’d make things awkward if they remembered your date with Jun.”

“You went on a date with Jun?” Agumon asks, the volume of his voice raisin with his surprise, “really?”

“As in, Daisuke’s sister?”

“That was before I knew I was gay,” Yamato replies with a long glare at Taichi, “and she forced my hand!”

“Yeah, she was kind of weird back then,” Taichi agrees, smile turning a little uneasy at the memory.

He laughed at it in the moment, but looking back, if he’d been the one actively pursued by a girl three years older than him at fourteen, he probably wouldn’t have liked it either.

“She grew out of it,” Yamato shrugs, “but there’s a reason we’re still not close.”

Taichi chuckles again and knocks their shoulders together as they make their way down the street—he’s surprised to feel something grab his leg a minute later, and even more so when he realize Agumon grabbed a hold of both his and Yamato’s knees, hugging them to his chest in a way that forces them to lean on each other to avoid an awkward fall.

“Thank you for doing this!” he exclaims, Gabumon fishing a smartphone from inside his fur so he can snap a picture, “It’s just like old times!”

“I don’t think we ever went for tea together though,” Yamato points out, patting awkwardly at Agumon’s head, “when we went out it was mostly as a group.”

“Yeah,” Taichi agrees, squeezing at Gabumon’s shoulder just to make sure he doesn’t feel left out, “we used to hang out at the soccer field or in Yamato’s band’s practice room, most of the time. Or at home.”

“Oh, great!” Gabumon exclaims with undisguised delight, “that means this is both old and new, right? The same, but different.”

Agumon takes a shine to the idea before Yamato is even done nodding, and the two digimons end up chattering about it all the way to the restaurant, Taichi and Yamato looking at them like they’re proud parents realizing their children are all grown up. It may not be the best metaphor, considering the fact that they’re supposed to have an equal partnership with their digimons, but the sense of affectionate pride inherent to the idea is definitely something Taichi feels right now, and he can’t help but look over at Yamato, just to know if he’s grinning like an idiot, too.

(He definitely is.)

“So,” Taichi says after they’ve exchanged gently-mocking grimaces and red-faced grins, “that was actually pretty nice.”

They’re nearing the restaurant now, the smell of noodle soup strong enough that Agumon has his nose in the air already, and Taichi slows down a little, unwilling to let the evening end just now. Yamato, matching his pace, chews on his bottom lip—Taichi sees his jaw working from the corner of his eyes—before he asks:

“Wanna come have dinner with us? My place is closer than yours.”

Taichi agrees with a large smile—he’s not sure how obvious his relief is when Agumon doesn’t seem opposed to the idea—and decides to enjoy the way his stomach contracts when Yamato all but beams in response.

(He’s pretty sure no one else in the world realizes how much Yamato can smile, given the proper circumstances, and the thought doesn’t do anything to settle his heartbeat.)

{ooo}

“Okay,” Taichi yawns when he realizes Mr. Ishida’s clock reads eleven, “I know I’ve said this before, but I really have to go now.”

Agumon perks up at this, and starts gathering the takeaway boxes before Yamato can actually say anything—Taichi watches his friend’s nose wrinkle a little bit in embarrassment, same as it has for as long as Taichi can remember, and they sigh with almost comical synchronization. Neither of them moves until Agumon comes back from his first trip to the trash can though, steps carefully quiet so he doesn’t wake up Gabumon, who went to sleep almost an hour ago now.

Soon enough, there’s nothing left for Taichi to do but gather his things, wrap himself into his coat again, and let Yamato hold the door for him as he exits the flat. He steps out on the landing, presses the call button for the elevator with Agumon leaning against his knee—from the look of it, he’s almost ready to fall asleep where he stands, and regret prickles at Taichi’s gut at the thought.

Then he realizes Yamato followed him outside, and he chuckles:

“Are you going to walk me home? Because we might be starting an infinite loop here.”

“I’m just being polite, dum dum,” Yamato deadpans with a roll of his eyes, but Taichi decides not to take the hint:

“Right,” he teases, “just admit you can’t get enough of me. It’s embarrassing for you but I’ll be nice about it, promise.”

“Yeah,” Yamato replies with a small eye-roll, “I don’t want tonight to end, so I’m delaying as much as I can.”

Taichi’s stomach does a little flip at that, and for a second there he almost calls the whole thing off—almost asks if he can stay the night and roll a mattress out for Agumon. The elevator door pings open at that moment though, sta rtli ng him a little, and when Agumon steps into the cabin on autopilot, Taichi gestures at it with a little wave:

“My ride’s here,” he says, awkwardness heating his cheeks up the longer he stays, “so I’ll just—”

“’Course,” Yamato replies with a nod, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “Goodnight.”

Taichi waves goodbye in turn, maintaining eye-contact until the doors close between Yamato and him, and then he sighs, vague disappointment niggling at his stomach before he even manages to process it.

“That was a good evening,” Agumon mumbles at him—he’s resting his cheek on Taichi’s knee again, so the words come a bit slurred when he adds: “’m glad it’s over though. ‘M tired.”

“Yeah,” Taichi admits with a smile, “it’s late.”

Today was an excellent day as it is—no need to focus on the things he couldn’t have.

Taichi and Agumon wait in companionable silence until their reach the ground floor and the doors let out a little ping before they open. Taichi readjusts his scarf, steps out of the elevator cabin, and he’s just about to push the hallway door open when the sound of naked feet clatters down the staircase.

Turning around, Taichi is surprised to find Yamato there—red-faced and maybe a little embarrassed as he jogs through the hallway at a more sedated pace to stand in front of Taichi. Beside him, Agumon makes a sleepy noise of protest, but Taichi is too busy trying not to smile like a gigantic idiot to pay attention to that—he does make a mental note to do something nice for his partner later, but he’d be lying if he said his consideration went any further than that.

“So,” Yamato pants, wiping sweat off his forehead, “I wasn’t joking when I said I didn’t want the evening to end.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Taichi answers.

He pauses, swallows in a futile attempt to settle his stomach—his heart, the delightful shiver in his fingers—as he tries to sort his words out but Yamato, as has often been the case, beats him to it:

“Also,” he says, redder than before, shoulders stiff like he’s bracing himself for something unpleasant, “I kind of—I really wanted to kiss you up there.”

Taichi has heard about face-splitting grins before—thought he’d sported some himself, once or twice—but right now he’s pretty sure he’s never smiled this hard in his life. He’s pretty sure he looks manic—he definitely looks like a manic idiot.

He couldn’t care less about it.

“That’s good,” he says, turning a little breathless when the fluttering in his chest solidifies into something easier to identify, “’cause I wanted you to.”

Then, because Yamato looks a little too surprised—relieved, delighted—to do anything about it, and because Taichi is supposed to have the crest of courage, dammit, he stands up on his toes, laces a hand behind Yamato’s neck, and brings their mouths together.

There’s a blank in his head at first, as his brain fills with a thousand variations of ‘nice’, with maybe a little bit of ‘finally’ thrown in for good measure, even though he hasn’t been aware he was waiting for this until a few minutes ago. Then his brain adjusts a little and his senses come back, one by one—he registers the tingling of his mouth, almost unbearable where Yamato’s lips barely touch his, the way Yamato’s hair tingles against his fingers wher e it s lips out of a loose topknot...and then Yamato’s hands, slipping from his waist to his back, strong arms pulling him into a hug and lifting him off the ground when Yamato straightens to his full height.

It takes them a while to pull away from one another—first there’s a graze of teeth on lips, then tongues, then sighs—but eventually Yamato’s arms kind of give out, and Taichi falls back to the ground with a little thump and a gigantic, probably very ridiculous grin on his face.

“So,” he manages after a few seconds of stunned silence where he and Yamato kind of just...stare at each other, like they haven’t seen each other’s face a thousand times, “I vote we go back upstairs and put your couch to good use.”

Yamato stiffens at the words, and for the most horrifying second of the past eight years, Taichi thinks he’s said exactly the wrong thing and ruined everything.

“Okay,” Yamato says when he notices Taichi’s frown, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t talking about sex, but on the off chance that you were—”

“What? Oh, no!” Taichi promises, fear slipping out of him in a bout of laughter, “no, definitely not. I mean, it’s definitely something I’ll think about in the future—” Yamato rolls his eyes at that, and Taichi swats him on the arm, pleased to notice they haven’t broken their embrace, even with the abrupt change of topic, “but for tonight I really just want to make out. A lot.”

“And you couldn’t say that before we left?”

Taichi and Yamato both jump at the words, and Yamato bursts in nervous laughter, hiding his face behind his hands while Agumon looks up at the ceiling like he’s going to find some patience just hanging there, ripe for the taking. Taichi wishes he could stop laughing, if only for Agumon’s sake, but he’s too giddy for it, so he picks up the digimon in his arms instead, and promises him a comfortable bed as soon as they get back upstairs.

He’s spent many a comfortable night on Yamato’s spare mattress, after all, and he’s got a feeling he won’t be using it tonight.

{ooo}

“Sorry about the back and forth,” Taichi tells Agumon while they wait for Yamato to pull the futon out, “I promise I didn’t plan for this.”

“I hope not,” Agumon grumbles, sleep already laced through his voice.

He keeps the annoyed facade for all of thirty seconds, before he asks:

“Does that mean you and Yamato are dating now?”

“No,” Taichi replies without hesitation, “it just means we wanna make out, and we will.”

“Same as before, but different?” Agumon asks, and Taichi nods.

“Yeah, basically.”

Agumon gives Taichi a very serious look then—it’s a little hard not to chuckle with nerves, but Taichi manages fairly well, until Agumon says:

“Humans are weird.”

Taichi watches his partner glare at Yamato when the declaration makes him laugh, then cross his arms together and say:

“You’re lucky you make him happy.”

Taichi barely manages to restrain his laughter long enough for Agumon to step into Yamato’s bedroom with a haughty air and click the door shut behind him.

“Okay,” Taichi huffs once he and Yamato get their breathing back, “I have no idea where that came from.”

“Oh, really?” Yamato snorts, “Because I remember you telling Takeru something along those lines when he and Hikari told you about their relationship.”

Taichi has no memory of that, but it sounds far too plausible for him to dare protesting, anyway.

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow,” he promises instead, “just because I behaved like a stupid butt doesn’t mean he should do the same.”

“Don’t bother,” Yamato replies with a smile and an easy shrug as he walks back to the couch, “I’m glad there’s someone else out there to protect you.”

Taichi swallows a smile and a nervous chuckle, forcing his face into the closest approximation of calm indignation he can manage. It doesn’t work, of course—the grin pressing at his lips is too strong to stay off for long, for once, and even without that, Yamato probably knows him well enough to call his bluff anyway. No point in persevering.

Still smiling, Taichi scoots closer to Yamato, angling his legs so their knees are touching, and gives Yamato a playful nudge.

“So,” he says without managing to keep the goof out of his voice, “about this kissing thing—”

“At the risk of ruining the mood,” Yamato cuts in, grimacing an apology around the words, “I have to ask: why did you tell Agumon we weren’t dating?”

His neck turns red as he speaks, and Taichi blinks at the sight for a second before he realizes what’s going on, and grabs Yamato’s hand.

“It’s not because this is a one time thing!” he promises, pressing Yamato’s fingers between his, “I don’t want it to be a one time thing—I want it to be a many, many times thing. All the time thing, if possible.”

Yamato snorts, posture relaxing at Taichi’s silliness, and Taichi smiles with relief as he continues:

“It’s just—I know you’ve got issues about the whole...letting people know thing. About dating. And, I’m not gonna lie, I’d love to share the joy with everyone else, but I also want you to no freak out, a lot more than I want other people to know what’s going on in my life. So, unless you’re ready—really ready, don’t say yes because you think that’s what I want to hear—to put it all out in the open, I’d rather keep this between us. It’s not like the others really need to know anyway.”

Yamato snorts and rolls his eyes, but moisture clings at his eyelashes when his thumb brushes against Taichi’s, fond smile seemingly settled there for a long while to come.

“Same old, same old, then?” He asks, gentle sarcasm struggling to come through his grin.

“Except there’s gonna be kissing,” Taichi points out, unable to keep the excitement from his voice, “lots of it, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You sound like a horny teenager,” Yamato says with a roll of his eyes.

He does lean in for a kiss, though.

{ooo}

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Taichi whispers several hours later, when they’ve changed into something closer to pajamas and slipped into Yamato’s bed.

He stares at the back of Yamato’s head as he speaks—the blond of his hair turned almost silver by the strips of moonlight filtering int—and he’s half expecting something like ‘you mean another one?’ come out. Instead, Yamato keeps his back to Taichi to yawn into his pillow:

“I was never interested in Daisuke.”

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” Taichi says.

He watches Yamato’s shirt shift when he snorts:

“Liar.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to ask that first,” Taichi amends with a fond grin, “I’m just wondering—how long have you been wanting to do this?”

Taichi hears Yamato take a deep breath before he wriggles around and brings then face to face, the darkness swallowing his features until only the glint of his eyes remain.

“Wanna know the truth?”

“Nothing less from you,” Taichi says, copying Yamato’s serious tone and reaching up to fit their hands together, “you know that.”

“I’ve been thinking about it on and off since I figured out I was gay.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?”

Agumon stirs and shifts in his sleep at the words, but in Taichi’s defense he did just discover he and Yamato could have been making out—and more—for years now. Given how pleasant the whole experience has been so far, he’s pretty sure he can be excused for his belated offense. Somewhat.

“Well, obviously I wasn’t ready,” Yamato replies with a shrug.

Taichi nods—he did more or less witness the whole process, after all.

“But also—we lived on different continents, we had different goals...I mean, I’m working toward a job that’ll take me off planet for months—”

“That’s a really stupid reason for not saying anything,” Taichi points out, and gets a swat on the shoulder for his trouble.

“I never said it was smart,” Yamato replies, sounding very much like he’s rolling his eyes, “’sides, those weren’t my only reasons. I didn’t want to risk freaking out and ruining our friendship—”

“You know it’d take a lot more than that, right?” Taichi asks, finding Yamato’s free hand with his own, “Unless you somehow, I don’t know, hurt or kill Hikari, you’re stuck with me forever.”

“That’s what I figured out, eventually,” Yamato replies with a chuckle—he surprises Taichi by bringing their linked hands to his chest before he continues: “you got sick around that time though, and I figured—depression makes you do things you wouldn’t normally do. You get better eventually, and when you think back on it you look at some of your decisions and think ‘what the fuck was I even thinking back then’, you know?”

“Like when you....”

Taichi lets his voice trail off, unsure what words to use, and tugs at Yamato’s wrists instead.

“Yeah, like that,” Yamato admits, head shifting as he lowers his gaze. “Or like when you tried matchmaking.”

“Urgh,” Taichi grunts with a disgusted grimace, “too soon.”

Yamato laughs at that, muffled and quiet to let their digimons sleep, but he wriggles closer in the same movement, and he plants a light kiss on Taichi’s knuckles, which may or may not short-circuit his brain for a second.

“I just didn’t want you to look back on this—on us—and wonder what went through your head when we started.”

There’s a brief silence, which Taichi doesn’t quite know how to break, before Yamato adds:

“I mean, maybe we’ll still end up fighting and not wanting to talk to each other ever again someday, there’s no way to know—but at least now I’m reasonably sure it’ll be us fighting, not me and your sick brain.”

Taichi considers being a little offended by that—he must have learned some form of lesson from the past few months, though, because he nods instead. It’s not like he hasn’t let his sick brain get the better of him yet.

{ooo}

On Thursday, Taichi wakes up at half past eleven with his face pressed into Yamato’ s green pillow, a nd not even a trace of self-consciousness appears when he breathes the smell of it in. He’s slept in this room dozens of times, has had all the occasions in the world to memorize the way it smells in the morning—but, like depression, going from best friends to best-friends-who-kiss must rewrite brain chemistry because Taichi could swear it was never as pleasant as it is now.

He grins a little at the though, and takes the time to stretch each of his limbs into wakefulness before he even attempts to sit. He’s already missed all his classes for today anyway, and he rescheduled his therapy appointme nt just in case their trip through memory lane left him too depressed to function...he might as well enjoy the change of plans.

Taichi leaves the room with a quick cursory glance— Agumon is still snoring the morning away, but the others are gone—and makes his way to the kitchen. He finds Gabumon there, shaping rice into onigiri while Yamato fiddl e s with the electric kettle and a box of tea leaves. Taichi takes a mome nt to appreciate the way Yamato’s clean pair of jeans hug his butt before h e leans against the threshold, crossing his legs just in case wearing only boxer shorts prove to be an advantage.

“Hey, science side of the room,” he yawns, “can you explain why your sweat-soaked pillow suddenly started smelling good this morning?”

“It’s because you’re a gross-ass sap,” Yamato tosses over his shoulder.

Taichi snorts at that and, since Yamato’s refusal to turn around makes his posing useless, he goes to sit at the table and help Gabum on out with t he onigiri. He’s not surprised when Gabumon levels him with a long, speculative look—Yamato may be the most secretive person ever created, even he has his limits—before he says:

“I’m glad you guys are happy.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re kissing friend now,” Agumon yawns as he waddles into the room, nostrils shivering toward the counter, “humans like kisses.”

“Kisses are nice,” Gabumon agrees with a little shrug as he goes back to his work, “sometimes Yamato kisses me when we have different schedules. I like it.”

“Really?” Taichi asks, glancing up at where Yamato is trying very hard to set up the teacups in a casual way, “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s not the same kind of kissing,” Yamato says as he turns back to the counter, “and you know it.”

“No, no, please,” Taichi insists with a little wave at Gabumon, halfway to laughter already, “tell me more, Gabumon. Does Takeru kiss you too or is it just Yamato?”

“You’re an ass, Taichi,” Yamato protests, without heat, and Gabumon blinks between them in obvious confusion.

“Well, like Yamato said,” he starts, darting a glance to Agumon, who shrugs in the corner of Taichi’s vision, “it’s different—Takeru doesn’t do it because he lives here and Yamato uses a French kiss—”

Taichi bursts out laughing seconds before his lips touch his teacup, smearing hot tea all over his fingers and the table—he’d feel a little guiltier about it if Yamato hadn’t slapped both his hands over his mouth, neck cherry red where he’s bent at the waist, shoulders shaking. Taichi, bent in half over the table, laughs so hard he almost chokes on his own spit, tears streaming down his cheeks even as Gabumon says:

“I’ve said something weird, haven’t I?”

“It’s okay,” Yamato replies, voice still thick with laughter, “Taichi can explain.”

“What?” Taichi protests, sobering up in record time, “why me?”

“’Cause that’s what I’d have said if we’d had this conversation yesterday,” Yamato smirks.

It’s not wrong, but Taichi still pouts about it until Yamato bends down for a proper morning kiss.