Cold Comfort
By Ariana
weirdsisters@hotmail.com
Author's Note-Standard disclaimers apply: I do not own these puppets. I happen to believe, for many reasons, that the digi destined are all older than most people think. Their interactions and little in-jokes display a depth of character not found in 10-year olds. For this fic, think of Mat and Tai as 14.
Cold.
That was the only thing he felt; daggers of ice slowly seeping into his bones, tugging at his consciousness.
Yamato felt like he was going to collapse into the snow and never wake up. The wind howled, throwing burning snow into his face. His bare arms were raw from the abuse--it was as if the whole world had turned against him.
This whole thing was Tai's fault, he thought angrily. He wanted to go after Myotismon, to hit him where it hurt. That included regular raids of various castles, trying to discover a weaknesss, anything that could aid them in their battle.
The guards around the castle were heavy--there was only one way in.
Mat had been against the idea from the start. Though the mountain appeared rather small, it was very deceiving in that it was extremely steep. They'd been making good time, almost certain to meet their rendez-vous point with the others, when the skies had suddenly burgeoned with snow and let loose a blizzard that seemed god-sent in its fury. Now he regretted letting their Digimon go with the others, not wanting to put them in danger. Even he as fought to continue up the mountain, out of the corner of his eye, Mat saw Tai slip and fall into a snowbank, his little feet sticking up in the air almost comically.
"Tai," he snapped. "Get up."
There was no response, then a slight groan. Concerned, Mat allowed himself to pull Tai out of the snowbank, gingerly brushing the snow out of his eyes. He came face to face with the brown-haired boy, and blinked twice at the glaze that covered his eyes. "I'm c-c-cold," Tai whimpered, his entire body shivering. His face was paler than Mat had ever seen it. In fact, as he looked closer, he saw that Taichi's
lips were turning blue.
"Shh," Mat said, cradling his thin body against his. He looked around desperately, seeking shelter. Only white snow and dizzying heights below; nothing anywhere that could provide even a moment's respite from the wind which was flaying them alive.
They had no choice but to go on.
"C'mon, Tai," Mat whispered. "We've got to keep going for a while, at least until we find shelter." There were no traces of bitterness or irony now--only concern for a boy who he hadn't even known he cared for.
Tai opened his eyes sleepily and nodded at him. "'Kay," he whispered groggily. "I'm so sleepy..." Mat hooked an arm under his knees and around his back, then began to carry him up the mountain.
"Try to stay awake," he urged, feeling Tai's shivering suddenly cease. That was not a good sign--it meant that severe hypothermia had set in and he was slowly dying.
Every time he looked down at the boy in his arms, he felt his expression soften slightly. Then he winced as Taichi shifted in his arms, digging a bony elbow into his stomach.
They walked for another hour before he saw it, a faint outline in the distance. A small log cabin that appeared deserted; there was never a more beautiful sight in Mat's eyes.
The door was open. Inside the small cabin was a single bedroom with
a large, king-sized bed and several piles of blankets. Heaving a sigh of relief, Mat gently laid Tai onto the bed and began to build a fire with logs stacked in a neat pile next to the fireplace, silently thanking whoever have lived there last for their forethought.
Before long, he had a fire roaring, casting light on the walls. Shivering, Yamato pulled off his wet clothes and laid them in front of the fire to dry. Then, wearing only his boxers, he turned his attention to Tai.
The boy looked much better, a flush of color in his cheeks. But he
was dripping wet, and Mat knew it wasn't a good idea to leave him in his wet clothes. Still...
"Don't be such a baby," he snapped at himself, and pulled Tai's sneakers off, setting them by the side of the bed, then the rest of his clothing followed. In his sleep, Tai grumbled as the noise pervaded his dreams, then rolled over, allowing Mat to wrap him in a blanket and burrow the sleeping boy beneath the sheets. Outside, the snow was still falling as the sun set, leaving the land to darkness.
A little cold himself, Mat reluctantly slid into the bed, as far away from the skinny brown-haired boy as possible. Before he knew it, he felt himself dropping off into sleep...
Tai woke to darkness, and warmth. He was very warm, and moved to stretch, only to find that he was wrapped in a soft, fleecy blanket. Tai craned his neck and saw Mat sleeping on the other side of the bed.
He saved me, Tai realized with a jolt. I thought he hated me... He nimbly ducked out of the blankets and slid over near Mat, whose face was so serene, so peaceful in sleep. He was almost attractive, with the way his blonde hair fell into his eyes.
And his lips, which were full and pouting, parted slightly and Mat breathed a single word:
"Mimi..."
His eyes flashed with disappointment. Mimi. It figures, he thought bitterly. Why would Mat like me, of all people? A snide voice pointed out that Tai shouldn't care whether or not Mat like him, but he ignored it.
"I'm sorry..."
Tai leaned over, trying to catch the words that fell from his lips.
"I don't love you."
I don't love you.
"Who do you love?" Tai asked urgently, while that little voice was screaming at him to get away, he might wake up and then he'd be in for it... "Who do you love, Mat?"
"Tai..." Mat murmured. "I think I love him." Tai sat back, mind reeling. If he could have seen his reflection, he would have laughed at his comical expression: eyes bugged out, mouth hanging open. Tai made a small sound that suspiciously resembled a squeak. Stirring, Mat's eyes flicked open lethargically. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Tai said softly, drawing away. He could feel his face burning, and was suddenly glad for the shadows the fire cast over the room, hiding the flush that crept up his neck like ivy up a stone wall. "I'm not doing anything. Go back to sleep, Yamato-kun. You'll feel better in the morning."
The slender blonde youth examined him with his eyes for a moment before nodding drowsily. "I--" He yawned, then smiled in spite of himself. "I'm a little tired," Mat admitted, and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the pillow. "G'night, Tai," he mumbled, only partially coherent.
"Goodnight," Tai whispered. He waited for a few minutes, checking the door to see if it was closed, investigating a funny thumping sound, and stoking the fire so that it would last until the early
morning. And outside, the snow continued to fall.
Then he leaned over and kissed the soft strands of spun gold that fell over his young face, careful not to wake him.
Someday soon, maybe he'd tell Mat how he really felt. If only Myotismon didn't exist, if only they were just two regular kids
instead of boys who held the world in their hands.
Looking down at Mat, Taichi allowed himself to smile.
The temptation to hold him was great. He made a face, not quite knowing what this strange urge in the center of his being was, or where it was coming from. All he knew was that he needed to hold him in his thin arms, to feel his heart beating against his neck.
But he couldn't. He couldn't take his mind from the mission; couldn't sacrifice the world for his own desires. Maybe once the battle was over, and he could go back to being plain old Taichi.
A snide voice pointed out that he could never go back.
Until then, he told himself firmly, ignoring his inner pessimist, he would have to content himself with the tantalizing words Mat had spoken. At least he knew he wasn't following a rainbow, chasing some unattainable goal.
He looked outside and saw that the snow was letting up. Doubtless, it would be passable by the morning. Another day, another battle. Another day of fighting with Yamato, of feeling searing pain as his eyes cut disapprovingly into his back.
But all that was to come with the morning. Feverishly, Tai wished the sun would just stay set, and sleep for the rest of eternity. Against his most fervent prayers, he could see the sky beginning to lighten into gray, the first tell-tale signs of the advent of a beautiful morning streaked with oranges and golds.
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