I.

Fortitude

Something inside him dies to see her hate. And she does hate, at least that's what she says. She hates everything he ever touched. This apartment, this relationship and him.

He listens sedately.

The doors slam, the walls tremble, a glass something shatters into a million pieces. Her ring drops, echoes on the wooden floor.

He waits outside, his fingers clenched, lifted to the door with the knock he never delivered.

Inside, their voices thunder.

"Leave!" she screams, "Don't come back!"

His ears pound with guilt. He shouldn't hear this, he shouldn't be here at all. But she asked him to stay. So he stays.

"I'm changing my cell phone!"

"I wouldn't call!"

The door flies open.

"You are so selfish!" Daisuke does not see him just yet. He struggles with his shoes, twisted awkwardly to face her, "You don't know what you want, so try to have it all!"

"Fuck you!" Hikari's voice rattles through the foyer.

"No, fuck you, Hikari!"

Then he sees him.

"Oh." Daisuke's expression contorts. All the violence, the anger pent up in his face, cracks. He gives him a faltered look. "I…Takeru…"

He takes a few unsteady steps forward, forcing on his shoes,

"Sorry…" He says, slips past him, disappears quickly down the hallway.

Takeru does not watch him go. If he had planned on coming back, he definitely would not now.

"Shitsure shimasu…"

He steps into the foyer, notices the broken something, a porcelain hinaningyo, in three pieces on the floor, sees her facing the window. Outside, the afternoon is dying into night and its elegy of colors makes her glow golden, like an idol for his eyes.

"Hikari…"

Her shaking stops, she turns to face him and it's affirmed there, that flicker of misdirected hatred burning holes right through him. And then, as it had so many times before, it dampens away, a paper thing sinking into water, and she is helpless and beautiful before him.

Tears, ones that refused to fall in the face of adversity, drip from her eyes.

"I'm…I'm so sorry, I forgot you were…" she wipes her eyes roughly, "It…it sounded worse in here than…"

Seeing her there, he feels something both strange and familiar stirring inside of him. He looks down in denial of it, collects the figurine pieces from the floor and lays them on the counter. In that time, she composes herself, smoothes her hair and blouse, puts her hate back into its secret place.

He looks at her expectantly and her renewed veneer is immaculate. She smiles her brave smile and he pretends to believe her when she says,

"I'm fine now. I'm going to be fine."

How much of this she believes herself, even he doesn't know. She will probably never tell him.

In the end, she asks if he ate on the flight and he says no, so she suggests they get an early dinner. It is between this time, when she excuses herself to freshen up and he sees the near-invisible desperation behind her eyes, that that peculiar feeling resurfaces.

He is sitting alone; evening has laid the sun to rest, the faucet runs behind the bathroom door. And he knows that he loves her all over again. All the pain, all the years he spent healing from the last time means nothing in front of her; you're caught up before you can remember why you left at all. Her presence, her very being is like hypnosis –Takeru is harrowingly familiar with the subconscious desire to return to her lucid spell, how easy, how effortless it is to love her. Never mind the bad times, loneliness, inevitable suffering. It was never a question of "if" –only "when".

"You cut your finger."

Hikari returns, and so like her to notice such an insignificant thing, the blood pooled on his finger. He calls it for the nothing it is, idly sucks the blood away. It tastes stale and sweet; the prick of Cupid's arrow.

It's not something to fear or loath; it's only a show of thriving humanity. It will be difficult, this manifest love. He can foresee sacrifices, misery, many, many tears. He does not care. He is blind again. Yet, despite all appearances, nothing has ever seemed clearer.

Disclaimer. Tragically, I don't own Digimon.

Notes:

Shitsure shimasu

Roughly translates to, "Excuse me, I'm being rude." It can be used in a myriad of situations; in this case, Takeru uses it when entering the apartment without permission.

Only one note? Gasp!

I've been wanting to write a takari for a while. Hopefully, with time, this story will lighten a bit, since it seems a bit heavy for me now.