Chapter Text
One week, 168 hours, 10080 minutes, and 604800 seconds after Glowing Dawn had dragged him kicking and screaming into their dysfunctional group of misfits and Raito has never felt more like both an exhibition put on at a zoo and someone that belonged than with Glowing Dawn. If they weren't watching his every move, cataloging his reactions for later (though that was mostly the Kuonji kid, to be fair) then they were letting him do whatever he wanted, never pushing too hard, asking too much, getting too angry. Reina certainly struggled with the last one, though Raito couldn't pull the blame away from himself when he got just as irritated, if not more with her and her team's little intricacies.
For one, they didn't delete Digimon, citing it as cruel and unusual, which Raito agreed with shockingly enough. Why hurt the creature that was forced into doing criminal activity by its owner? (He is not looking further into that, thank you very much) They deserved, at least, freedom after being liberated, which Raito didn't think he'd ever say aloud, or think to himself, if he was being honest but one week of living with these people and he was thinking about things like autonomy and self expression.
Both things he didn't think much about, or tried to, and yet, Glowing Dawn makes him think far more than Naito ever had. Why should we be beating up criminals? Why do you think it's okay to be perfect all the time? Why do you care what we think when you never cared before? His head was spinning with all these new things being shoved into his face, giving him more of a headache than Naito's fucking dumb rules they all had to follow that, for some reason, Hotaruko finds easier to shed away than Raito ever could. Don't break rank. Don't disobey. Don't ask unnecessary questions (what did Glowing Dawn think was unnecessary?). Don't cause a fuss. He'd written them down and pinned them to the bulletin board in his and Tomoro's shared room, much to the confusion of his roommate who kept glancing at it with big red eyes that Raito did not find cute mind you.
He wasn't about to go and cause strife in this new environment of his without first learning all the ins and outs that he could.
What made Sawashiro mad? What made the team upset? What chores were least taken so he could do them instead? How many times could he push a rule further until it snaps into two? And, of course, most important of them all, how did he make sure they didn't kick him to the curb and give him some absurdly impossible task to complete that ends in his potential death? He had to give credit where it was due, Naito had played him like a fiddle, dangling temptation within his reach until he took it with his bare hands and didn't care to think too critically. He wouldn't make that mistake again. If something was too good to be true then it was too good to be true. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. He wouldn't fall for the same trick twice. What kind of genius would he be if he did? Just another washed up nobody, no doubt, left to rot in his own decay because he thought he could trust people and it got him almost killed.
But, he is trusting Glowing Dawn or—at the very least, pushing all his hope, very little of it there is, into Tenma Tomoro, who has shown an increasingly concerning nature of standing up for Raito far too many times.
From Reina. From Yoshimura. From Maki. From him. Raito doesn't like to think about how attached Tomoro is to him because then he'll think about how attached he is to Tomoro, and that will ruin him even on a good day. It will chew him up and spit him back out and he will die if Tomoro ever finds out that the feeling of being unable to be separated was confidently mutual. No, Raito wouldn't hear the end of it for how could you tell someone they were the best thing that's happened to you and that you want to be so close you're practically living in their body without sounding mentally deranged? Not that he wasn't. Oh, Raito was far past admitting that he was some sort of sane individual. No, he wasn't entirely screwed right in the head, sure, but Tomoro didn't need to know that.
All he needs to know is that Raito is somewhat willing to push forward. That's all. Nothing less. Nothing more. If Raito occasionally sometimes stares a little longer at Tomoro when he goes to sleep, that was his business and his business alone. The less Tomoro knew. The better.
Though, it was getting harder to act like Tomoro couldn't just tell him to 'jump' and Raito would ask 'how high'.
He was like a dog, eagerly following orders, loyal to a fault, but now it was to the person who dragged him out of near death and wouldn't leave him alone no matter what and Raito would say he hates it—that he absolutely despises it, really—but Tomoro remembers when he likes to go to sleep and drifts off to the living room when it's close to dark. He listens to him ramble and doesn't offer input because Raito doesn't want it. He tells Reina to leave him alone (though Raito could do that himself, he appreciated it, anyway). He shouts at the top of his lungs to Maki and Sawashiro and everyone around that Raito was a good guy (was Tomoro fucking stupid?) and that he shouldn't be treated like a walking bomb and Raito probably shouldn't have been eavesdropping on the whole conversation but in his defense, he'd only been trying to find where the fucking bathroom was and managed to land himself smack dab in the middle of it to the unknowing participants.
All in all, of course, Tomoro was—he was like the sun. Too bright. Too loud. Too much. Raito has always liked the sun. How warm it was on his skin. How it meant a new day arrived. How it felt like he survived once more and he supposes the sun is fitting for Tomoro who is named after the future, the next day, the start of a new morning.
It's different from him—Light. What was so bright about Souda Raito? What light did he produce? What hope was he embodying? Raito didn't know. He doesn't know if he wants to know. If he realizes how ill-suited his name is for him, Raito can't promise himself that he won't crumble from it all. His poor mother must have thought his name would bring him good luck.
He doesn't know what to think when it's brought him nothing but misfortune. Pain. Misery. Complete—
"Ow!"
His head falls forward when something hits the back of it and Raito growls, whirling around and bristling at Tomoro sitting on the other side of the room. "I called your name a bajillion times," Tomoro says, already making another ball of paper to toss it right at Raito's face, "but you were all spacey so I figured this would work. Did I get your attention?" He cocks his head to the side and Raito is reminded of a kitten that is trying to act innocent after clawing at your fucking sofa.
"What do you want?" Raito deadpans, eyes narrowing as Tomoro blinks, hands twitching. He glanced away, and the tips of his ears turn pink. Raito likes that about him. How easy it is to get Tomoro to show emotion. How simple he is to read. "If it's anything idiotic, you're giving me a part of your money as a compensation fee."
"No way."
"You're the one asking me for help."
"Well, if you don't want to give it, you don't have to."
Tomoro is quick to anger. Quick to deflect. He asks for things only once before abandoning them all together. Raito fucking hates him.
"No," he says, already crawling off his bed to march over. He's taller than him. Just a few inches, really, but with Tomoro sitting down, Raito towers over him and he crouches, so their eyes can meet (he will never tower over anyone if he can help it), reaching out to flick the boy right on his nose. "What the fuck do you want? You hit me with a paper ball to get my attention and now you're being a bitch and keeping quiet. If you won't tell me, I guess I just have to force it out of you." His eyes dart to Tomoro's sides and in an instant, the bespectacled boy is spluttering, arms wrapped around him like some sort of shield.
Raito tries not to grin but it's hard not to feel satisfied when Tomoro cocoons himself in his blanket as if that will stop Raito from poking him until he gets a stomachache from shrieking so hard. "No, you won't! Do not touch me! Ugh—" He groans, hiding further in his cocoon. "I just…." a mumble comes forth as the rest of his words and Raito leans close, blinking.
"Hmmmm? Sorry, speak up, asshole. I don't speak mumble jumble."
"Oh, fuck you," Tomoro hisses, "I said that I… wantyoutocomehelpmesearchmyoldapartment."
Blinking, Raito cocks his head to the side, all intention of being an asshole thrown right out the window. "Me?" He repeats, pointing to himself. "You want me?"
"Unfortunately," Tomoro says, hugging the blanket closer to himself, "I went before, but we never got to take my stuff from there cause of all the shit that's happened so I…"
"Why not Reina? Makoto? Fucking Sawashiro? Ain't he a friend of your brother's? Won't it like, make him start talking about him so you can find answers? Why do you want to go with me of all people?"
He can't understand it. Tomoro has family that would gladly go with him. Why is he choosing the path with the most resistance?
As if reading his mind, Tomoro pulls the blanket down a bit, hair a mess and making Raito really want to run his fingers through it. He frowns at him, brows furrowed, and Raito feels something warm settle in his stomach when Tomoro speaks again.
"Does there need to be a reason?"
No, Raito thinks as he sees his reflection in Tomoro's eyes colored like the setting sun.
I suppose there doesn't.