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His Mother\'s Bed	By : Randie Category: Digimon > General > Digimon Adventure (Season 1) > Digimon Adventure (Season 1) Views: 2440 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Digimon is property of Toei/Bandai/Saban and I make no profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
His Mother's Bed
A/N: Another strange fic in a similar vein to 'Consign' as it's a dark read (eventually) that lasts about three chapters. For those not into Natsuko, this part mostly has just the two brothers, if that's your thing. Unfortunetly, most of the intimate dealings are in part 2.
Warnings/Pairings: Incest (I cannot stress this enough), possible rape in the final chapter/ mentions of abuse, and angst. YamatoxTakeruxNatsuko triangle (specifically TakeruxNatsuko; Also one-sided Yamakeru, one-sided NatsukoxYamato.) Previous mentions of Sorato, Jyoumato, and Daiken. Mentions of Daikari, Kenyako.

[Part One: Dirty Laundry]
All Takeru had done his entire life was for her, but her most recent actions made something inside him snap.
Takeru had never known his mother to be a danger to him, or mean. She was stern, but never raised her hand. He couldn't recall being spanked or forced to stand in a corner. He could only recall trips to the store where she would let him pick out a candy or how she made sure to tell him she loved him every day. She worked hard, she kept the place clean, and she didn't badmouth her ex-husband, ever.
So, he never understood his older brother's coldness. Perhaps because he hadn't grown up with them and didn't have the chance to get to know her. Was the icy stare made out of awkwardness instead of some hidden anger? Takeru didn't bother asking, because anytime he did, he got the same look.
He especially didn't understand it because their mother loved Yamato more than anything on the earth. He was her first born, her eldest son. He shared her attributes, some of her personality (Takeru noticed niether made many friends, for example), and from what Takeru could tell, they had once been close.
The loss of not only her ex-husband, but her precious boy... that was why Takeru didn't mind filling the void. It made her happy. She didn't sit around sad or lost like she had for the past three years anymore, so this was fine. Even as a young child he had been helpful with chores or being an understanding ear.
Despite all this, he would never be able to get over one thing.
Why she called Yamato's name instead of his. The entire thing made his blood boil. Takeru could admit to himself that was the only time she ever hurt him, ever upset him. Still, Takeru couldn't bring himself to be rough with her. She was his delicate mother and perhaps that was why she ultimately turned to Yamato in the end... or she really had loved him more all along. Either way, things would be over soon, in Takeru's eyes.
Six Weeks Ago
Takeru had just walked in from the long trek home from school and flung his backpack onto the ground. He kicked off his shoes and glanced around. The apartment was silent, save the distant clicking of computer keys from his mother's office. He was used to her fluctuating schedule. Some articles were quicker than others. Today, it was straining on her, as Takeru noted the keys slowed, stopped to a halt, then ramped up again. He continued to the kitchen with a huge smile on his face, a plate of mocchi waiting to be inhaled by the growing teenage boy's equally growing appetite.
He usually took the plate and headed to the living room for TV, but he didn't want to disturb her and instead sat at the stool over the counter, eating from the entire plate itself. He glanced past the chrome fridge and through the sliding glass doors to the balcony and his mind drifted to the last conversation he had with his older brother, Yamato.
All the Digital World mess was cleared out for now, so Takeru had found himself with more free time and he wanted to make a conscious effort not to lose the bond he and Yamato had forged three years ago. He could tell the entire thing had taken it's toll on the other sibling, especially in some particularly out-of-character angsty lyrics that Takeru assumed were regarding himself. Of course, the mood change could be due to Yamato finally breaking things off with Sora-- although Takeru had hoped for the best between them, always seeing them as surrogate parents, he knew it would never work. Yamato had made that clear to Jyou and Sora now. He didn't want a relationship. He didn't deserve one. Takeru didn't understand what the older brother had meant and he figured he never would.
With a sigh, Takeru left the last mocchi on the plate, just in case one of the other kids decided to drop by, but even that was a rare occurrence now. Hikari had finally given into Daisuke's demands of a date and the thing had gone surprisingly well between them. Takeru was happy-- sure, he liked Hikari, but even Takeru knew when he was being friend-zoned. He could respect Hikari's reasoning, too, that she didn't want to destroy what friendship they had (obviously, like Yamato and Sora had killed theirs).
Takeru slumped over the counter, wondering about Iori, Miyako, and Ken. Were Miyako and Ken dating still? Probably. Miyako was busy learning to manage the store, since her older sisters and brother held no interest in their family legacy. Takeru would often pass Ken on the way by, but they still didn't get along the best. Iori was a grade below Takeru and the two didn't seem to mesh unless they found time to discuss the evils and injustices of the world-- Iori's main goal in driving him towards a law career one day. Takeru couldn't see himself defending the vile or judging another human being, so the entire thing bored him.
He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life, his family, the Digital World... All Takeru knew was that he didn't want things to change, ever. But they would.

“I wouldn't call Natsuko, but you know how Takeru's visits used to cheer him up... and with these break ups with that Takenouchi girl and his band... I can't stand to see him lay around and sleep all day. I can't pull him out of it.”
The ex-wife listened intently, her eyes narrowing. Her heart felt weak at the thought of Yamato being so depressed. She hadn't seen him in such a state in seven years and it wasn't any easier now. “I'll talk to Takeru, Hiro.”
“Thank you. I mean it. Thank you.”
“...you're welcome,” she whispered. She was relieved by the calm tone in her husband's voice. The events three years ago had really changed him. He had become more tolerable and worked less. He had even admitted maybe if he had been home more, then... But Natsuko and Hiroaki both knew they could never go back and they had accepted it.
The phone line cut out, waking Natsuko from her feelings, and she clicked the cordless phone to silence on her end before turning her attention to the young blonde boy 'studying' in front of the television. Sometimes he reminded her of Yamato and as she recalled Hiroaki's words about Takeru being the only one to cheer him up, Natsuko secretly wished that there was something she could do, but she was afraid. Her motherly instinct was driven by something darker and she couldn't trust herself to do the right thing. Takeru, though, had no interest in that sort of thing. He had always been after Hikari, so she tried to push the thoughts away in her mind: that maybe she was having feelings for Takeru, too.
“Takeru?” she called. The boy stiffened, trying to pretend he was working. Natsuko rolled her eyes. “Can I talk to you?”
Takeru inched away from the table and glanced over as his mother walked towards him. “What's up, Mom?”
“Would you... go visit your brother tomorrow? Hiro says he's a little down and maybe you could cheer him up?”
“Ah... sure. I was planning to go by anyway.”
“Really?” Natsuko questioned. She had already turned at the sound of 'sure' and was beginning to set their plates for dinner. “Why?”
Takeru was taken a little off guard by the question. What business was it really that his mother needed to know why he was visiting Yamato? But Takeru needed to answer her. “Uh, well, I was just thinking... with the Digital World stuff all overwith and my friends are all busy with their own things... I just wanted to see if since, you know, he has some free time, if we could hang out like we used to. I dunno, maybe he can teach me to use Dad's bass. He was going to give it to me in a few years, I think. I mean, if that's okay with you, Mom.” Takeru had rambled all the way to the dinner table where he took the tiny set of cutlery and began to dress the table as his mother finished the last preperations on the food in the kitchen. Their table sat up near the counter Takeru had been sitting at earlier, the stools all tucked neatly underneath the overhang and the open 'window' above where he could see his mother's actions as she went back and forth. “Also, he owes me a rematch for that basketball game we had in the park. He just got lucky I think...” Takeru watched as his mother turned with the pot in her hand, held with two oven mitts. She smiled as she brought it to the table and it made Takeru's heart grow warm. She smiled more now and Takeru knew if he talked about his brother, for some reason, it made her smile even moreso.
“That sounds good, dear,” Natsuko whispered. “I hope you like fish stew.”
“You know I do,” Takeru said cheerfully and began to lattle the two bowls. “Mom... am I sleeping in your bed tonight?”

The weekend came and Takeru found himself shuffling his feet outside his estranged father's doorstep. He hated going by the place, seeing as there was a fair share of men giving him strange looks as he waited for his knock to be heard. He was relieved once his brother answered the door.
Well, relieved for himself. His bleeding heart for Yamato, however, continued to let out. Takeru stepped in, trying to shake the image now ingrained in him: his brother reeked of smoke and his hair was a ratty mess. Circles masked his eyes and he was probably thinner than he needed to be. “Thanks for letting me spend the night.”
“No problem. Dad never objects.” Yamato's tone was oddly dry, or perhaps his throat was just raspy from too many cigarettes.
Takeru wondered if the statement implied Yamato did somehow object to Takeru staying and his face showed his bewilderment, but Yamato wasn't looking. He flopped onto the couch and reached for his guitar, held it in his lap, but didn't play. He just stared at the television set, which was off, looking at his brother's reflection.
Yamato had done his best to keep himself busy these last few years. When he first noticed Takeru returning from last Summer break and how much he had grown, he felt sick. The little boy was a beautiful teenager now and Yamato felt his heart flutter. Then and now.
Takeru watched as Yamato glanced down at the guitar, as if trying to remember a chord. That was when Takeru noted the darkness of the apartment. Surely, their father hadn't been around much, if at all, as things were growing untidy, too. Very strange for his brother. “I could clean up a little, if you want?” he offered.
Yamato nodded, his stringy bangs catching in his lashes.
Takeru gave a huge smile, like old times, hoping Yamato would notice, and proceeded with cleaning the apartment. Yamato slowly grew more interested, but not because he had any desire to help, but Yamato couldn't keep his eyes off of Takeru in so many positions and the older blonde's mind drifted subsequently. This only added to the guilt that had drove him to such a state, though. His inability to keep a relationship with anyone was all thanks to these stupid feelings he couldn't control. He curled into himself and tried not to cry.
“Oh, are you cold?” Takeru asked, prancing over to the side of the couch.
“No, I'm fine,” Yamato's voice squeaked.
Takeru frowned, “Something... something big is bothering you, isn't it?”
Takeru, don't say it like that... Yamato thought impishly. He immediately began to berrate himself for such bad thoughts and shook his head, “No. I'm fine, really.”
“...why did you break up the band, Yamato?” Takeru asked suddenly. He noticed not even the college papers knew why (Thank you Jun, for that useful tidbit.) and Takeru at least hoped Yamato would give the reason to him.
“It just... wasn't working out,” Yamato said, sitting up a little.
Takeru gave a tiny smile. “Please tell me, Oniichan.”
Yamato bowed his head, trying to hide the redness in his cheeks at the long-lost nickname. “Uh, well... it's just... it's so personal.”
“I won't tell anyone,” Takeru said, sitting down on the couch, too. He placed his hands over his ankles and leaned towards Yamato's knees, waiting for an answer.
“It's Yutaka...”
“What? He get you guys in trouble for wrecking another VIP room?” Takeru chuckled.
Yamato lifted his face and Takeru noted the deep red tint. What was so embarassing that his brother couldn't tell him, especially when the big deal wasn't even about him? “N-No, it's his older sister...”
“Oh, is she okay?”
Yamato chuckled, Oh, yeah, I'm sure she's doing great. “Would you... stop interrupting?” Yamato sighed. “Look, we all knew about Yutaka and his sister, right?” (Takeru, of course, had no idea and knew that his brother had meant in 'context of the band' knowing.) “Well, their parents found out and Yutaka got shipped off somewhere. A boarding school, an asylum, we can only guess, really. We couldn't find a suitable replacement, so...”
“...you mean he... I'm not understanding,” Takeru wondered, sitting back.
Yamato felt his heart race as he looked the boy over and the situation with his bandmate had only made this entire ordeal ten times worse. “Yutaka... he was sleeping with his sister.”
“Oh...” Takeru noted. He wasn't sure how to approach such a subject. Being raised in a Catholic household, he knew the entire thing was very wrong, but Takeru also knew that love between two people was something special, something grand.
As Takeru tried to sort his own feelings on the subject, Yamato studied him, his chest aching. Takeru... if I tell you how I feel, then... well it all depends on this. “It's insane right? Yutaka, I mean.”
“I... I don't know. I mean, were they hurting anyone, really?”
“No, they both felt the same way about each other,” Yamato clarified, hoping.
“...then, I really don't see what the big deal was,” Takeru noted. “A shame about the Teen Age Wolves, though.”
“Yeah,” Yamato smiled. “I have to admit, I was getting a little depressed there, but Takeru... Well, I'm glad you decided to come by.” Yamato placed his hand on his brother's for a split moment, then finally set the guitar aside and stood. He stretched a second, then asked, “So, what do you want for dinner?”
“Take out, or are you tired of it?” Takeru wondered with a mischevious smile. “Sorry, but I always get these cravings when I come by here. Guess because before you could cook, Dad always served us take out, didn't he?”
Yamato was still lingering on the word cravings, but he chuckled, “I don't mind, really. I'm tired of cooking anyway.”

“How is it? I know this place is a little hit or miss,” Yamato said from his side of the table. He let Takeru take their father's usual seat. Takeru felt his knee brush his brother's and Yamato pulled away quickly.
“Sorry.”
“No, this place is so much more cramped than Mom's...” Takeru shrugged.
Yamato's smile disappated. “Oh, right. You guys are living in Willow Mansion now.”
“Uh, yeah, but it's one of the smaller rooms,” Takeru said, trying to make his brother feel less inadequate. “Mom will be glad to hear you're doing better.”
Yamato broke his chopstick in half. He tried to laugh it away, but Takeru noticed. Yamato sighed, “Look, uh, can we just talk about anything else?”
Takeru could take a hint, but it didn't stop him from trying to remedy the coldness between Yamato and Natsuko. Takeru, after all, was determined to have a big happy family again. Someday. “Why do you hate Mom?”
Yamato slammed down the remaining chopstick, “Takeru, drop it.”
“I really wanna know. I'm old enough now, right? Come on, Yamato, tell me--”
“Knock it off!”
“She loves hearing about you. She asks about you all the time. When Dad called and said you weren't feeling well, she was crying, Yamato. She loves you--”
Yamato stood, slamming the table against his brother's torso slightly. Takeru winced as the breath was knocked out of him. “I said. Drop it. Takeru. Now finish eating. Get a shower, then come to bed. Otherwise, you know how that bitch gets if you come home smelling like smoke.” Yamato knocked over the chair he had been sitting in as he left and stormed towards his room.
Takeru composed himself and rushed over to pick up the chair, as if someone gave a damn, and stared at Yamato's plate. Barely touched. Whatever it was, was still clearly bothering Yamato. Takeru glanced to the shut bedroom door and back at the table again before clearing everything up and putting the leftovers away.
Takeru gave a quick knock on his brother's door, “I just want to grab my change of clothes.”
“I'll bring them to you, alright? Now leave me alone,” Yamato's voice snapped from the other side. Takeru sighed and headed to the bathroom, which was a few steps from Yamato's room. Takeru stepped inside and turned on the shower, then stripped down, letting the hot water calm his weary body.
Yamato waited, hoping for no more interruptions. The feeling building up in him all night from being around Takeru had nearly drove him over the edge during dinner, but luckily his bratty brother could be counted on to bring up their mother and all unpleasantries contained. This at least delayed Yamato awhile longer, but also, gave him an excuse to start an argument and leave the table before Takeru noticed Yamato wasn't really hungry in the first place.
The blonde gasped and let his head hit the pillow as he felt the tips of his fingers trail underneath his open jeans. He opened his eyes, looking down at the hint of white coating the tip of his sex. He took a deep breath and tried to recall if Takeru took long showers. I won't be long anyway, Yamato thought, removing his hand and sliding his jeans down his hips a little more, so he could free himself better. He tried to fight the continued thought that he hated himself, but he had given in before and always would, anytime his brother had visited. That was his deal with himself. If he had the thoughts when he hadn't seen Takeru for awhile, he ignored them, as they weren't needed. That was why, since middle school, Yamato had hoped to stay as far from his brother as possible, start a normal life free of the sickness his mother had imparted in him. That plan failed horribly.
Yamato took the stiffness in his hands and smiled. It had been a long time with all the chaos in his life lately and he knew the reason he was so slick already was because this was so overdue. And he had been staring at Takeru the entire night. He figured Takeru must have been more active on the basketball team now. All that teenage stomach fat was worn away and his arms were toned. Still, that baby face was what really made Yamato smile and he was close when he noticed that twenty minutes had passed and his brother was still waiting on that change of clothes.
Yamato wondered, could he possibly? Get away with a little peek? The blonde stopped and tucked away his hard on as best he could before rummaging through Takeru's tote bag and finding the change of clothes he had brought. Yamato took them and stepped outside. The shower was still running, that was good at least. He walked over to the door and casually opened it. There was nothing wrong with two brothers seeing one another. It wasn't like there wasn't anything they hadn't seen before.
Yamato started to open his mouth to let Takeru know he had set down the clothes at the sink, but Takeru hadn't noticed him. The boy was washing more intimate places and Yamato frowned as he wished he could see through the curtain, which was clear with black and white spots, but fogged over. Yamato lingered a moment longer, knowing full well what Takeru had stumbled into doing. Yamato couldn't control his voice cracking at the sight as his jeans strained and he hurried from the bathroom, trying to calm his beating heart. He leaned against the section of wall between the bathroom and his own bedroom door, waiting to see if his brother had heard him. Nothing. Thank God. Thank Natsuko's shitty God.
“Takeru...” he whispered, then realized he should hurry. Yamato headed back to his room when the shower cut out and all color drained from his face. Takeru took no time at all once he stepped out (unlike Yamato who spent a good while primping), and Yamato literally nose-dived into his sheets and the comfort of his own bed. He hugged the cold pillows to his burning cheeks and tried to steady his breath. He was still incredibly hard and uncomfortable, even after Takeru stepped inside. He had his change of clothes on and the towel draped over his shoulders.
“Where's the futon?” Takeru questioned. “Did I wake you?”
Yamato tried to look sleepy, which, considering his lack of lately, wasn't difficult. “Uh, yeah... It's in the closet, there.”
Takeru rolled his eyes at his brother's laziness and tugged at the rolled up mattress. “Seriously, this thing is heavy. Can you help me?”
“Get it yourself,” Yamato grumbled, rolling over.
“I'm the guest here, you can help.”
“I don't feel like it. You're a big boy now, get it yourself,” Yamato snapped, still wishing away his own big boy problems.
Takeru crossed his arms, “Fine, maybe I'll just sleep in your bed.”
Yamato cringed and felt a twitch somewhere between his legs, “L-Like Hell you're sleeping next to me. You're not a baby anymore.”
“I meant you would sleep on the floor,” Takeru smirked. “Why won't you just help me with the futon?”
“It's not that heavy, man,” Yamato groaned. He wasn't sure if it was frustration or the climax he was supressing. “You sleep on the floor.”
“No way, that's rude,” Takeru whined. He did love pissing his brother off. So, he proceeded to keep up with brotherly antics and hopped into the bed, climbing on Yamato to start wrestling that one time, had turned into quite the fist fight. However, Yamato shoved him away quickly to one side of the bed.
“What do you think you're doing, Takeru?” the older blonde demanded.
“Just horsing around,” Takeru said sheepishly. “I guess I should have known better than to mess with you while you're in a mood...”
“Damn straight,” Yamato breathed, rolling back over and closing his eyes. He thought he could finally settle down for some sleep when he felt Takeru settle in next to him and turn off the light. Yamato tried to shake bad memories away, but then decided to just let them spill forth and erase what he was feeling. This didn't work, though, as Takeru took a long time to get comfortable. Yamato growled, “What are you doing now?!”
“Your mattress is lumpy... No wonder your back always hurts.”
“Takeru,” Yamato hissed, “It's from carrying my guitar around. My bed is fine.”
“Oh, really?” Takeru snorted, “Then why is there a spring stabbing me in the ass?”
Yamato melted. “Uh, well... the, the women don't complain.”
Takeru laughed, “You just think you're hot stuff, don't you?”
“Of course.”
Then, the two were silent and only the sound of their breathing was heard. Yamato's, notably faster than his younger brother's, and Takeru took notice. No, Yamato wasn't doing anything next to his brother, that was just insane, but he also couldn't control his thoughts and the reactions that came with them. “Yamato, you should really quit smoking before our parents find out.”
“U-Uh, yeah, I know,” he replied, not really sure what Takeru had even said. He was imagining himself, shoving Takeru forward and leaning over his backside, wrapping his arms about him, assuring that they were in for a very fun evening. Yamato imagined the heat of his breath against his brother's cheek as he kissed him and pressed closer...
“Yamato, are you alright, really?” Takeru questioned, feeling a little uncomfortable. “I...” Takeru wasn't sure what to think from his brother's quick breaths. He even started to wonder if he should call someone. Or maybe just get out of the bed. “Are you mad?”
Yamato sighed, “No, Takeru, look, I...” The older brother started to turn back to Takeru and their eyes locked for a second before Yamato was on top of most of him, kissing him and holding him as if Takeru would fall away.
Takeru mostly struggled to catch his breath. He found it odd. He wasn't disgusted, he wasn't hurt... he just: wasn't. He let Yamato kiss him and when his brother finally pulled away, Takeru found himself staring at what he had been hiding all evening. “Y-Yamato...”
“I'm sorry, okay?” he said immediately. Yamato was bowing his head as best he could, but really, that only reminded him of the discomfort that was slowly subsiding. “I'm sorry. I fucked up.”
“Uh, Yamato... it's fine...”
“No, really, this is the worst thing I could ever do and I can't take it back. Please, I know you'll never forgive me,” Yamato begged and Takeru could see he was crying. His brother never cried. Maybe he cried behind a closed door, once, but Takeru could tell. Yes, this was what had been bothering his brother. “Takeru, please. Don't hate me. You don't have to feel this way about me, I swear. Just... just don't hate me. That's all I ask.”
Takeru smiled a soft smile. One Yamato had never known. “You're forgiven, okay? I don't mind really.”
“Then, do you feel the same way?” Yamato let the words slip from his mouth and he cursed. “No, forget I said that.”
Takeru thought about it. No, he didn't feel the same way. However, if he told Yamato the truth... well... it would probably destroy him more than the past few weeks had and that meant going back to his mother and telling her the truth: Yamato was still depressed and he would never be the same again. Takeru fidgeted awhile. “I... I'm not sure.”
“Take your time. If you say no, I will understand, please, believe me,” Yamato begged, holding a hand to his brother's face. He let it slide delicately, taking in the other's young, soft skin. “I'll let you think about it, okay? Also, if you want the bed, take it.”
Takeru smiled. He was definetly amused by his brother's awkward fumbling through words. He had only seen him talk like this around Jyou. “It's fine. I trust you.”
Yamato's heart sank at the words. He had once trusted his mother like this, too. Worse, could Yamato trust himself? I can't, he thought and sighed. Finally, he had relaxed and he took that chance to climb out of the bed, careful to avoid any contact with Takeru at all, taking a pillow with him on the way to the couch.
“Oniichan,” Takeru insisted. Yamato stopped in the doorway. “You don't have to go.”
“Answer my question.”
“I... I can't yet.”
“Then, don't worry. I'm used to sleeping on the couch.”
Takeru felt something akin to sorrow, maybe pity, as the door closed, enveloping him in the darkness he despised so much. He knew he only had one choice, but he knew the consequences of that one choice, too. He had to return Yamato's feelings, living a life of sin and fake feelings, just so his family could be happy. The question wasn't whether he loved Yamato in such a way: he didn't. The question was if Takeru was ready to make that sacrifice for his family or not...
Yamato tossed his pillow down onto the couch with a sigh and collapsed into the familiar lumps of cushion, his comfort for many sleepless nights enveloping him. He had fought this thing his entire life. He swore he wouldn't be like his mother. He swore he would never hurt Takeru. He swore he would never betray his father. The only comfort he could fine was that at least he would let Takeru make that decision. Yes, that was cowardly, but Yamato was ready to own up to the fault if the need arised. So, as he waited his little brother's answer, he laid with eyes open until exhaustion took him.

Takeru awoke the next morning and found Yamato still dozing on the couch. The younger brother still hadn't come to terms with his inevitable decision and decided he would have to talk this over with his mother first. He took out his cell phone and turned it on, despite the fact he would see Natsuko within the hour. He couldn't leave Yamato wondering.
Then he heard his older brother stir. Then scream. Takeru dropped the phone as his brother swung fists in his sleep and fell from the couch. The landing woke him and Yamato sat up, his face steaming and his pupils wide. Takeru noticed when he kneeled down that Yamato's breath was shaky at best, too. “Yamato... are you okay?”
“Y-Yeah... fine. Go back to sleep.”
“It's morning, though,” Takeru pointed out.
Yamato ran a hand over his face and collected his jumbled nerves. “Takeru, I'll make you something to eat before you go. It's the least I can do for even asking you that damn question last night.”
“...you're taking it back?” Takeru whispered as Yamato stood. He watched the older brother gather the blankets and toss them aside before he ran his hand over his face a second time and headed to the kitchen. Takeru took the time to pick up his phone from the floor. Yamato eyed him from the kitchen.
“Who were you calling?”
“What were you having bad dreams about Mom for?” Takeru snapped. “Don't lie to me, either. I thought maybe it was just something you were dealing with when you were my age, but I can't believe it's still going on.”
Yamato was cornered now. He had opened the fridge, but closed it so he could give Takeru his undivided attention. “I've only ever told Jyou about this. Dad knows. It's the entire reason our parents got divorced.”
Takeru waited, still clutching the phone in his hands.
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His Mother\'s Bed