A/N: This is my first fanfic. Giving Digimon a shot. Please
review.
Beta Sunfreak Rin's note: And hey, it's a deathfic! Cheerful, yah? *shakes pom-poms*
*
"Dealing With It"
*
Takeru sat in his brother's room. He was wearing a suit; his tearstained face pointed at the floor. It was a strange scene.
Yamato had just died, hit by a drunk driver, and Takeru was hiding from the funeral-goers. All day they had been telling him they were sorry, and they understood. Well, they didn't, and he hated hearing their false sympathy. However, he decided to stomach his disgust.
Ten minutes later someone said he'd get over it. That crossed the line. His brother was dead. How was he supposed to get over it? He wouldn't. Only a person who didn't know what it was like to lose someone could say that. A stupid, foolish person, who had never lost anyone they loved.
Takeru stood up and walked over to the dresser and picked up Yamato's harmonica. He began to play an old song his brother had taught him. It didn't sound right. It never had. Not when Takeru played it.
Yamato used to tell him he would get better with practice. But Takeru never became anywhere near as good as his big brother. He realized now that he was stupid to think he could ever become that great.
The door opened slightly behind him. He turned around to see Hikari standing there and felt his heart speed up.
Then Daisuke came up behind her- probably the last person that Takeru wanted to see. How could Hikari have brought him?
"Takeru . . . H-how are you feeling?" Hikari asked as she walked toward him. She stopped about three feet away. Daisuke remained in the doorway, his face masked in shadows.
"Bad. To put it mildly." Even though Takeru didn't mean it to it came out as a whisper. Well, more like more like a sob that he attempted to muffle halfway though, but he needed to uphold his manhood through all this and play the fun game called denial.
He knew Hikari wanted to say something to make it easier for him, but she couldn't find any words. But that was okay, because Takeru didn't think that even his beloved Hikari could help with this pain.
She started crying "Oh Takeru, I-I . . ."
Daisuke took a step forward, clearly intending to comfort her, but stopped when Takeru gave him a death glare and hugged her instead.
Daisuke laughed to himself. As if his comforting Hikari could take her heart from Takeru. As if anything could. Daisuke used to think there ought to be something, but now he knew better.
He turned to leave and came face to face with Taichi.
"Been looking for you guys," he said. "You'd better get out of here. You know Yamato will come back and haunt us until we die if we mess up his room."
He'd been his same goofy, klutzy self since Yamato's death. To the casual observer it appeared that he wasn't affected by it, but the ones closest to him knew it wasn't true. They knew he was hurting just like them- he just had a strange way of dealing with it.
They filed out of the room, but none of them could bear to go back to the mourners, or even close the door. They stood in the hall: Hikari looking at her feet, Takeru at the doorknob, Taichi at the room in general, and Daisuke from one face to the next, for nearly twenty minutes. A glass shattered downstairs, and they were all snapped back into reality.
Takeru slowly reached forward and closed the door.
Taichi smiled at him. "Good job, kid."
Then they went to rejoin the world.
*
*END*
*
* life is but a dream . . . *
Beta Sunfreak Rin's note: And hey, it's a deathfic! Cheerful, yah? *shakes pom-poms*
*
"Dealing With It"
*
Takeru sat in his brother's room. He was wearing a suit; his tearstained face pointed at the floor. It was a strange scene.
Yamato had just died, hit by a drunk driver, and Takeru was hiding from the funeral-goers. All day they had been telling him they were sorry, and they understood. Well, they didn't, and he hated hearing their false sympathy. However, he decided to stomach his disgust.
Ten minutes later someone said he'd get over it. That crossed the line. His brother was dead. How was he supposed to get over it? He wouldn't. Only a person who didn't know what it was like to lose someone could say that. A stupid, foolish person, who had never lost anyone they loved.
Takeru stood up and walked over to the dresser and picked up Yamato's harmonica. He began to play an old song his brother had taught him. It didn't sound right. It never had. Not when Takeru played it.
Yamato used to tell him he would get better with practice. But Takeru never became anywhere near as good as his big brother. He realized now that he was stupid to think he could ever become that great.
The door opened slightly behind him. He turned around to see Hikari standing there and felt his heart speed up.
Then Daisuke came up behind her- probably the last person that Takeru wanted to see. How could Hikari have brought him?
"Takeru . . . H-how are you feeling?" Hikari asked as she walked toward him. She stopped about three feet away. Daisuke remained in the doorway, his face masked in shadows.
"Bad. To put it mildly." Even though Takeru didn't mean it to it came out as a whisper. Well, more like more like a sob that he attempted to muffle halfway though, but he needed to uphold his manhood through all this and play the fun game called denial.
He knew Hikari wanted to say something to make it easier for him, but she couldn't find any words. But that was okay, because Takeru didn't think that even his beloved Hikari could help with this pain.
She started crying "Oh Takeru, I-I . . ."
Daisuke took a step forward, clearly intending to comfort her, but stopped when Takeru gave him a death glare and hugged her instead.
Daisuke laughed to himself. As if his comforting Hikari could take her heart from Takeru. As if anything could. Daisuke used to think there ought to be something, but now he knew better.
He turned to leave and came face to face with Taichi.
"Been looking for you guys," he said. "You'd better get out of here. You know Yamato will come back and haunt us until we die if we mess up his room."
He'd been his same goofy, klutzy self since Yamato's death. To the casual observer it appeared that he wasn't affected by it, but the ones closest to him knew it wasn't true. They knew he was hurting just like them- he just had a strange way of dealing with it.
They filed out of the room, but none of them could bear to go back to the mourners, or even close the door. They stood in the hall: Hikari looking at her feet, Takeru at the doorknob, Taichi at the room in general, and Daisuke from one face to the next, for nearly twenty minutes. A glass shattered downstairs, and they were all snapped back into reality.
Takeru slowly reached forward and closed the door.
Taichi smiled at him. "Good job, kid."
Then they went to rejoin the world.
*
*END*
*
* life is but a dream . . . *