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Iori woke early on Sunday. He blinked at the dim morning light and within seconds he regretted telling Armadimon that he would be fine on his own today.
Iori listened for the telltale signs of anyone else awake and found nothing. The only sound filling the apartment was the rain that tapped against the windowpane.
That was fitting.
He wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep, and lying in bed in the dark wouldn’t do him any favors. Iori slipped out from between the sheets and fixed his socks, padding into the living room. He was indeed the first one out of his room. That was a rarity despite the fact that he wasn’t one to sleep in late, even on the weekends. It felt strange, almost unnatural. Heaviness pressed in on him and he bypassed the fridge to get himself a glass of water instead.
His mom would insist he eat breakfast when she got up. He wasn’t hungry.
Iori stood in front of his father’s shrine for a long time, his stomach twisting into a pretzel. The doors were closed. Polished. Perfect.
This was the first anniversary of his death since Oikawa, and Iori ached in a way he never had before. An old, scabbed-over wound ripped open fresh. Iori used to think his father had been perfect. But his father had once been a child with friends. A child who could have had a digimon partner. He'd been a person full of flaws and love and ambition and life.
Iori had promised Armadimon he would move on. And he would. But today was not for progress.
Iori opened the doors and greeted his father’s photograph, his breath hitching into a near-sob at the sight of him. He bowed and sank to his knees. With his hands cupped in his lap, Iori let himself cry until he was out of tears.
When he was done, there was a hand on his shoulder and the smell of tea wafting in from the kitchen. The lights were on behind him.
“Good morning, Hiroki,” Grandfather said. He squeezed Iori’s shoulder gently. “Good morning, Iori.”
“Good morning, Grandfather,” Iori whispered.
His mom came up behind them. “Would you like tea, Iori?” she said in a voice just as soft.
Iori nodded.
To his surprise, his mom did not insist he eat anything. She held out a bowl, but at seeing his hesitance, she only gave him a sad smile and turned away to offer some to Grandfather. It was a welcome change.
The morning wore on in a quiet haze. Iori’s sadness grew worse as the afternoon came upon them and the rain ramped up to a downpour. Iori had not missed his dad so profoundly in years. It felt disrespectful, but Iori wished Grandfather would take him away for kendo practice. He needed a distraction. No matter where he was, it felt as if his family’s eyes were following him, their grief compounding. It was pervasive.
Retreating to his room did not alleviate the feeling. That didn’t make sense. Iori rubbed his arm and puzzled at the sensation of someone being in the room with him.
No fear came to him.
The presence was… warm. Protective, yet not overbearing. And there was sadness as well. For the briefest of moments, Iori imagined his dad was there with him, but with it came a throb just to the left of his heart, and oh…
It was Takeru.
Iori went still. Takeru had never initiated contact. Or at least, not that Iori was aware of. Was that what was happening now? Had Takeru tried to contact him before and Iori had simply been oblivious? There was no way to go back in time and know for sure, but for the first time, Iori could feel the connection stemming from a definite direction.
Iori hiccuped on a stuttering inhale. He wanted his dad but now he wanted Takeru too. He wanted to be hugged, but not in the paper-thin way his mom always hugged him. He wanted the kind of all-encompassing embrace that only two people in the world dared to give him.
Fumbling, Iori reached along the bond. Takeru’s presence jolted like a startled cat. The warmth flickered wildly-
And then it was gone.
Iori felt gutted. Hot tears welled in his eyes, spilling over near immediately. That wasn’t fair. He cried, hurt and angry. There was no way to get his dad back, but Takeru was just upstairs. He hadn’t lost him at all. They just needed to talk, and this was absolutely not the right time, but Iori was abruptly so upset that he didn’t care about being polite anymore.
Iori stretched with his mind, focusing everything he had on the minute spark in his chest. He sucked in a deep breath and yanked with all his might.
Muted shock came to him, thick and sludgy like it had to fight its way through molasses to get to him. Iori yanked again, fists clenched and eyes shut tight. He’d gotten Takeru to his side before. He could do it again.
Their connection fluttered and then went quiet. Iori opened his eyes and sniffed. He couldn’t feel Takeru except for the spot beneath his ribs, but the absence filled him with expectation, not loss.
It was scarcely more than a minute later that a rushed knock sounded at the front door.
Iori tumbled to get it, but his mom got there first.
“Takeru? I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time,” she said, holding the door not quite fully open.
“Mom, no- Wait.” Iori’s throat was tight, his head whirling. Takeru was here. Takeru was here and he was wide-eyed and windswept like he’d sprinted down the stairs. He probably had. He didn’t have any shoes on. “Mom, can he come in? Please. I- I want him here.”
His mom stared at him, unblinking. Her brow pinched and she struggled with something she didn’t seem willing to say aloud.
“Please.”
She stepped aside.
Iori was running before Takeru got over the threshold. Takeru dipped to catch him and hugged so tight he took Iori off his feet. Takeru squeezed a sorry excuse for a laugh out of Iori’s chest. The crumpled part of his heart smoothed. He pressed closer. Wound his fingers into Takeru’s shirt and didn’t let go, even when they had to shuffle out of the way so his mom could close the door.
Takeru tucked his nose into the crook of Iori’s neck. It was cold. Takeru was wet and Iori didn’t care that some of that water was being transferred onto him.
Iori soaked in the hug until he’d had his fill, which was a very long time. When Takeru set him back on his feet, his mom was still there. Still staring at him like she was looking at a stranger.
A look was exchanged between her and Grandfather, watching from the doorway of his own room.
Iori caught a curt nod out of the corner of his eye.
“Would you like to stay for dinner, Takeru?” his mom asked.
Takeru looked unsure. “If that’s alright.”
“If Iori wants you here, you’re more than welcome.”
“Thank you.”
Iori overflowed with gratitude. “Thank you.” He hung onto Takeru’s sleeve and led the way to his room.
They sat on his bed, their bond quivering with something new. It was tentative and raw and a little overwhelming. Iori laid his head on Takeru’s shoulder, not sure what to do now that he’d gotten what he wanted. Takeru pulled him in for a side hug and kept him there.
Would his dad have liked Takeru?
The thought came to him out of nowhere, and with such acute wanting that he folded inward. Why was today so much harder than usual? He didn’t remember the last time he had cried so earnestly about his loss.
Takeru shifted so they could lean against the wall. Iori wiped at his tears and wondered what exactly had been communicated through his demand for Takeru to join him, because though Takeru had Iori wrapped in his arms, his face was ducked away. He looked horribly guilty. Like he expected Iori to start yelling at him at any moment.
Iori wasn’t going to do that. How could he expect Takeru to open up if he never did himself?
Iori dug. He dug for something he’d never told anyone else before. He wiped the lingering tears off his cheeks and cleared his throat.
“I used to call my dad’s phone. After.”
Takeru stiffened, eyes darting to him and away.
“To hear his voicemail.” Iori’s words wobbled horribly. “He used to put me up on his shoulders when we were in a crowd and… He didn’t like it when his hair was messed up but he let me do it because I thought it was funny.”
Voicing those tender moments was as great as it was terrible.
“One time, he came to pick me up from school early. My class hadn’t gotten out to the playground yet. He ran around and went on the swings with me so I wouldn’t miss out. It was only for a few minutes, but it was really cool.” Iori heaved a wet sigh and bit his lip. “He was gone a lot. I know I didn’t get to really know him, but I really miss him.”
Takeru rubbed his thumb over Iori’s arm, still staring at the wall. The warmth in Iori’s chest was growing hot, and Iori internally curled up to it as well.
Iori gave him an opening. “Do you miss your dad too?”
Takeru inhaled sharply and let go of Iori to rub at his face. “That’s not the same thing.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“...All the time.” Takeru spoke with his hands covering his eyes. He let them drop and frowned down at them. When he opened his mouth again, nothing came out. It was a full minute before he managed to whisper, “I used to call my dad too. To try to talk to him. Or Nii-san. But my… My mom caught me once and she made me stop.”
Iori couldn’t imagine his mom doing the same. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your dad do fun things with you? Um, before?”
“Probably…” Takeru said with a stilted shrug. “He worked a lot. I think we went camping once, when I was three or four. There’s a picture. It must have been really fun, I guess."
"You guess?"
"I don’t remember-” A little noise escaped him. “I don’t remember them like that.”
"Like what?"
"Happy."
“Oh.”
A smile hitched itself on Takeru’s face, and Iori could feel it building. He was going to say it was fine. It wasn’t fine. That was awful.
Miyako’s words echoed in his head. Maybe Takeru didn’t need gentle. Iori gathered his wits and pushed okaytobesad at Takeru through their bond.
Takeru folded. His mouth drew into a line and he trained suddenly red-rimmed eyes on the floor. Even through the block, Iori could detect traces of regret bleeding through.
Today was not the day to have this conversation. It wasn’t. Iori shouldn’t do this. And yet-
“Why won’t you…?” He gestured between them.
Takeru froze, his eyes growing round. He didn’t say anything for a long time. And then, “I’m working on it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I just. I can’t yet. I’m trying. I promise.”
“But why?” Iori pressed, irritation flaring. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not good at sharing,” Takeru said quickly.
Fine. Fantastic. “Neither am I, but I’m doing it. You’re not being fair to either of us.”
Takeru’s mouth snapped shut.
Today was not the day to do this, but Iori’s restraint had cracked. He was hurting and Takeru was hurting, and Iori pressed on the sore spot. There was red in his cheeks and tears once again welling fast. “Don’t you want to be partners?”
Takeru flinched and finally looked at him, stricken.
“Aren’t you lonely?”
Takeru was so deeply upset by the question that Iori almost took it back. Almost told him to never mind and they could talk about it later. He’d never seen Takeru like this. Takeru scrubbed at his face until it grew blotchy and then kept going. His hands were shaking.
Iori held fast. Takeru didn’t need gentle.
He needed persistent.
Waiting was excruciating, but it paid off.
Takeru pulled his feet up and hugged his knees. “I love being your partner. Your feelings are really gentle, you know.” He frowned. “I don’t think mine are like that.”
“So, what? You’re protecting me from them? From you?”
“You don’t need to deal with me. I don’t want to make trouble for you, or for the team. I’m- I can deal with this.”
“Well, you are causing trouble for the team,” Iori bit out. “I’m part of the team too. I can decide for myself whether or not I want to deal with you.”
Takeru swallowed loudly and Iori blazed on. “Don’t you think Ken has caused some issues? Everyone causes problems, Takeru! Even Hikari has. I did! I got us all trapped on an underwater oil rig. We could have died. You’re allowed to be a problem.” Iori caught his breath and scowled. “You refusing to share with me isn’t protection. I don’t need protecting. I’m not fragile.”
Takeru stared. And then he was laughing into his knees, a strange-sounding wet laugh that made Iori’s insides prickle. He crossed his arms and resisted the urge to feel like he was being made fun of.
Takeru had the audacity to smile at him, and the prickle died down. That smile made Iori want to work harder. Because that smile was small and sad and honest.
Takeru was trying.
“What’s funny?”
“Of course you’re my partner. How could I have ever thought anyone else would be my partner,” Takeru said through his chuckling.
“You say that, but we’ve been partners for a long time and I only just found out about the emotion sharing last week. Did you just want me to never find out? What’s so scary about your feelings?”
Takeru let his head tap back to the wall. “You know. I’ve scared you enough times.”
Iori shifted closer, their elbows bumping. He hated that it was true.
“Look, you know I get really angry sometimes. I just. I don’t get why it happens. I mean, maybe I do? But when it does, I can’t stop. I get so scared I can’t think straight. I went after- I- In the base… I don’t even know what happened. I didn’t mean to leave you like that. I didn’t used to be like this!”
Iori nodded slowly at the admission. “I did get scared. But that was before we jogressed. Can’t I help you now? We’re supposed to be working together.”
“I know we are!” Takeru got off the bed in a flurry and raked his hands through his hair. “I do. I know. But thinking about things makes me even more upset so I- So I don’t. Didn’t? I wasn’t, but that didn’t work.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if I knew what was going on? It’s scary when I have no idea what you’re thinking,” Iori said.
Takeru deflated. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“So stop blocking me.”
“I don’t know how.” Takeru made his way back to the bed, dropping onto it and rolling to face Iori. He closed his eyes and picked at the comforter. “I love being your partner,” he said emphatically. “I loved evolving together. I loved playing with you at Mimi’s party. I want that.”
“Me too.”
“I... didn’t want to share at first. But I- You’re right. It’s not fair. I don’t like it. I’m trying something and I think- I hope it will help.”
“You don’t look confident.”
Takeru grimaced.
Iori held a deep breath and let it out. All the fight drained out of him with it. Persistence had paid off, but he wasn’t going to be able to magically be fix their relationship through brute force. Belatedly, it came to him that Takeru had likely been drowning in grief all day too. And it was in that moment that he suddenly understood a little better.
Wouldn’t he want to stop Takeru from feeling all of this pain if he could? Seeing him like this hurt, even if working through this mess was necessary. An unpleasant thought came to him then.
Iori lay down and tucked himself under Takeru’s chin, fighting off a sudden shiver. “Are you really unhappy all the time?”
Takeru hugged Iori to him, and it was a much different hug from before. This one was tender and careful and sweet. Iori melted. He could feel both their hearts slowing down to match.
“No,” Takeru said into his hair. “I’m… I’m okay, I think. Most of the time.”
“That’s good.” Iori let his sore eyes fall shut and snuggled closer. “I’m sorry about today. I wasn’t supposed to yell at you.”
“I would have yelled at me too.”
Iori didn’t like that but he let it go. They could only move forward from here.
Takeru shifted away a fraction of an inch. “Um, maybe we could start over. As partners.”
Iori hummed a question, eyes fluttering open.
“Hi, I’m Takeru. I’m your Jogress partner and I’m not very good at this.” Takeru snaked his hand between them for Iori to shake.
He took it, and the first smile of the day spread over his face. He tipped his head in the world’s tiniest bow. “Hi, Takeru. I’m Iori. I’m having a bad day. I’m your partner and I want to get to know you better.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Takeru smiled shyly back. “Are we okay?”
“We’re okay.”
“Thank you.” Takeru flopped back and let out an exhausted huff. A clank from the kitchen made him look towards the closed door. “Is that your mom making dinner?”
“Yeah,” Iori sat up, his stomach finally growling at the prospect of a familiar meal. “She always makes shogayaki. It was Dad’s favorite.”
“Should we help?”
Iori nodded and pulled Takeru up, warmth exploding throughout his chest. There was really no question.
His dad would have loved Takeru.