A/N: I've been rewatching Digimon lately and after so many years, I still think Sora should have ended up with Taichi. So here's my take on this crazy love triangle.

Disclaimer: For all the love I have for Digimon, it is not mine.

She twirled the drumsticks in her hands carelessly, it is more of a habit by now, more than anything. She stared at the solemn boy…no man, before her. Several empty beer cans sat next to his feet as he scribbled a few more notes on the score-sheet. It is going to be another one of those nights again…

"Don't you think that's quite enough?" She piped up. The rest of the band had long since left, she wanted to leave too, but how does one leave their own house?

"Sorry, I can go somewhere else…" Yamato started and winced as the drum sticks mercilessly made contact with his head.

"That's not what I mean," Natsuhi sighed. The idiot. "Are you going to tell me what this is about or do I need to get you completely wasted?" They had school the next day after all, the threat carried weight.

"You probably already know what this is about," the blonde started.

She nodded then shrugged. Yes, she knew who this is about, but not what.

"It's Sora," he sighed as he chugged the rest of his beer. Absent-mindedly, he wondered if she will break out the hard liquor he knew she kept in her cabinets. Bottles of them, he often pondered about their existence, she was never much of a drinker, not that she could not hold her alcohol…but it was not a love of hers, as far as he was aware.

Natsuhi schooled her expression to that of a neutral but attentive listener, but if Yamato squinted, which he never does, he would have noted the extra-force in her twirling drum-sticks when he mentioned the name, 'Sora'.

Then the story poured, as it always does. Sora, Yamato's long-time girlfriend and her ambiguous friendship with Taichi, Yamato's long-time best friend. The little hints that she drops that she never means to, for example when they went to the haunted mansion together, she would always latch onto Taichi when something surprises her, a purely instinctive reaction that she probably could not help even if she tried. And the Yamato will tip is head back and laugh bitterly. He knew why she chose him, because they never fight.

Sora and Taichi got along like a volcano and tornado…actually, more like two volcanoes, given the common element of fire between their partner Digimons. They cannot go for 15 minutes without breaking out into an argument or another, and the tension, the sexual tension between them often becomes so palpable Yamato wonders why they even keep up this farce of a relationship.

But she was the perfect girlfriend, so caring and loving. Always supportive and understanding, willing to talk and work things out, not to mention sex was good. Not that he would know better, she was all he has ever had…

Natsuhi listened to the story with great patience and understanding, the same way she has for the past twenty over times it has been told. Then she would stare at those muted blue eyes and wonder if he knew the flipside of this already dramatic soap opera of a situation.

Her.

Does he never wonder why she is always there, sitting with him into the wee hours of the morning regardless of work and school. Why her door is always open for him. Or those little banters she carries only with him, and little touches she shares for no one but him…like now.

"You know she loves you," she let the partial lie slip through her lips effortlessly. Yes, Sora loves him, just not in the way he wants her to. Casually, she reached out to take the empty can from his hands, brushing against his cold hands in the process. As her cold hands touched his, she chuckled inwardly. Yamato has always portrayed himself as the cool one, if Taichi and Sora were fire, he was ice…blue epitomized him, like his crest, his eyes…But she knew better. The cold he exudes is only outwardly, inside, Yamato burned, a flame hotter than anyone else's, a fire that ran so hot, it has turned a deceptively cold color of blue.

This was why he was aching, because he had chosen to love Sora with the passion of a burning flame that no one knew. No one but her. And it hurts Natsuhi as much as it hurts him.

The can sloshed softly in her hands, an almost pathetic amount of residual beer, she noted. Just enough to act as an excuse for what she was about to do. Bringing the cold beer can to her lips, she tipped her head back and let the bitter liquid pass through her lips. His warring heart would just assume she wanted to waste nothing, but the truth was much sillier. She just wanted the indirect touch of his lips.

Yamato knew that she would not hug him, her comfort was never one of direct touch. Little did he know that she always marvelled at her self-control, having the object of her desire sit and even sleep in her room, in his most vulnerable state and not tempt him into straying…not even to touch him beyond the slight brushing of skin.

Today though, Natsuhi thought, she would let that self-control go, just a little. Enough to loosen her tongue to say what she really thought. Because she was only human, and she could not support the pretence that was hurting him more than it was saving him anymore.

"You want to know what I really think," she asked, twirling her drum-sticks one last time before setting them on the bed with a sense of finality.

Her tone of voice had him sitting up straighter, blue eyes focused and piercing into hers.

"You haven't been telling me what you really think?" He accused, though not truly angry.

"I haven't thought of what I am thinking now until…now," she argued; he accepted the explanation and stared at her, prompting her to continue. "I think that she loves you, just not in the way she thinks she does, not in the way you think she does. But who can blame her, you are easy to love. On the surface, there is nothing wrong with your relationship, you guys are perfect together. But that perfection came at a price. She fights with Yagami so much because she sees him for who he really is and vice-versa. They see each other for all their strengths…and flaws, but they both are not ready for that level bond with another human being, well, she isn't, he's just patronizing her. To her, love is something that needs to be needlessly healthy. A relationship cannot be marred by fights, by mistakes, by imperfections. But no human is perfect, and to truly see a person for who they are, is to see their imperfections…when that happens a couple will fight, until the pieces have grinded enough to fit together. She has been scarred though, by the failure of her mother's marriage. She feels that any fight, any disagreement are signs of a doomed relationship, so falsely believes that the love that you two share is real. But she doesn't see the real you and you don't dare to break down her walls and reach into the real her because you can't bear to lose her…because you were hurt too as a child," you trailed off, looking past his blue eyes and into the wall behind him.

Her brain continued the speech inwardly; continuing any further out loud would simply bore the blonde. Natsuhi did not bother reigning her thoughts in however, her mind continued to psychoanalyze the parties in the situation without her consent. People often joked that her mind had a mind of its own, and she could not agree more. Just part and parcel of being a psychology major.

A confused silence hung in the room, almost awkward but not quite, then he spoke up.

"You think I'm easy to love," Yamato stated more than he asked, as his blue eyes pierced hers for the second time that night. She watched his brain do mental summersaults at his own statement through his eyes as hers redirected its focus to assess the new status quo.

The turbulence behind his eyes stilled and she both rejoiced and sighed. He had figured out her secret, perceptive as he is, but had chosen to be in denial of his own conclusion. She now had a choice, to help him cast aside his veil of denial, or to continue leaving him in the dark.

"Oh but you are easy to love," she teased, neither confirming nor denying his suspicion.

"You psychology types," he muttered with a roll of his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, a habit she noted he had whenever he was annoyed or irritated. It would seem that denial won out for today.

"Bed?" Natsuhi asked.

He nodded and climbed onto the queen sized bed, leaving more than enough room for another.

Natsuhi shook her head wryly. It could not be helped though, she supposed. The studio apartment, though spacious was already fully occupied by her desk and shelves. What little space left for the couch was greedily taken up by her drum-set. Neither of them could possibly sleep in chairs, and she had no extra blankets or futon for the floor. Yamato would assume that she was simply too lazy or busy to make the purchase. She knew better, she just wanted an excuse to share a bed with him, no matter how far apart.