Unfortunately, something very much like this happened to me this morning…A very good friend of mine showed up hurt, and I didn't know how to help him.

Warnings: Self-Abuse and other painful things.

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. There's nothing else to say.

One In The Morning

The alarm clock in Kouji's room was reading one AM when the doorbell rang.

The black haired boy had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to get to sleep. He was, to tell the truth, taken aback at the soft ding-dong of the doorbell, followed by the noises of his father muttering down the hall, and his stepmother, Satome, following behind him worriedly.

He slipped quietly out of bed after them, hovering where he could see the door, but was out of sight as it was opened.

There was a gentle, familiar whisper. "Dad…is Kouji awake?"

The man was taken aback, then rubbed his eyes and muttered. "Of course not. Kouichi-kun, what are you doing here at this time of…?"

Satome gasped and the man cut off, eyes widening himself. The woman took a few steps back, then ran, obviously intent on getting to a phone. Her husband stepped forward, out of sight, and a moment later you could here. "Did you do this to yourself?"

Kouji couldn't take it anymore. He stepped out of his little nook, slowly, and quietly snuck up behind his father.

He could see Kouichi from here. His brother looked tired, standing on their front porch in his disheveled clothes, which Kouji was pretty sure he'd already worn twice this week, to save on the laundry bills. He wasn't responding to his father, just standing there wordlessly, his face impassive.

Kousei…his father…heard footsteps and turned around. Without a word he stepped back and let the twins look into each other's eyes.

Nothing was said between them, and for a moment, neither did anything. Then Kouichi reached down and pulled up right sleeve of his ragged green jacket.

His arm was covered in blood.

It ran from his wrist, down into his hand and seamed to have pooled there a few times before slipping away. There were thin scratches lengthwise across his wrist, barely wider than paper cuts, crisscrossing over each other with minor irritation. Almost dead center and perpendicular to one of them was a short, shallow cut, barely and inch long, already closed with congealed-black blood.

Kouji took in a slight gasp between his teeth, unable to speak. Kouichi didn't say anything either, just blinked at him with the same impassiveness. Finally, the younger of the twins spoke.

"Has it stopped bleeding?" he whispered hoarsely.

Kouichi glanced at the wound, then took off his jacket for a better look. He nodded.

Kouji went immediately to the kitchen and returned with an old towel, wet from the sink. He took his brother's arm in his left hand and began to wash away the blood… gently, so he wouldn't hurt him.

The blood wasn't fresh, it was dried and sticky across the pale skin. It wouldn't come off with out some gently pressure, the younger twin working in silence. Kouichi winced a few times as he got close to the actual wound, but other than that, nothing was said.

As he gently wrapped the towel around the arm, Kousei looked over his son's shoulder and spoke. "How did you get here, Kouichi?"

"…Walked." the boy mumbled, sounding half-dead.

"From your house?"

A short nod. Kouji glared worriedly. "You live ten miles away!"

Kouichi shrugged, still impassive. Kousei cleared his throat. "Does…Tomoko… know you're here?"

Kouichi shook his head. Kousei frowned at him seriously. "Have you been drinking, Kouichi?"

Kouji glared at his father as the elder twin shook his head slowly. Kouichi didn't drink, he was too afraid of hurting his mother.

Satome came up behind Kousei, looking nervous. "I…I called an ambulance." she gulped.

"It's probably not necessary." Kousei mumbled.

"I…" Satome gulped. "I called the police, too…To take him home. T-Tomoko-san must be worried sick…"

Kousei nodded slightly, glancing back at the two boys. Neither of them said a word, just stared at each other as though conversing silently…Kouichi looking hopelessly impassive, Kouji biting his lip slightly in worry.

"Kouji…" the father said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Everything's going to be all right now. They'll come in a few minutes to help him. Right now, you need to be getting back to bed…"

Kouji shook his head slowly. "Kouji." his father mumbled sternly. "Now."

The younger twin hesitated a moment more, then sighed and began to turn around towards the house.

"Wait…" Kouichi croaked painfully.

His brother turned around. Kouichi's bottom lip was trembling slightly as he put his arms around him, not crying but seeking comfort all the same. Kouji's arms slid around his waist, holding him tightly, one hand snaking up to stroke his hair.

"…Kouichi…" he whispered in his brother's ear. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"…I don't know." Kouichi mumbled, on the verge of sobs. "I don't…don't remember."

Soft red lights began to flash in the distance. Kouji held his brother tighter as the elder twin stiffened in an all-too-familiar defensive stance. "Please, Kouichi. Tell me what's wrong."

"I don't know." he insisted through sobs, burring his eyes in his brother's shoulder. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know…"

Kouji ran a hand through his hair as the policeman came towards them. He didn't know if these strangers could help him, this boy who meant so much to him. But he couldn't be hesitant of anything…they were on the path, now they didn't have a choice.

Sooner or later, he would tell him what was wrong.