Another plate smashed to the floor and Matt clenched his fists under the running water. He'd already taken over Joe's cooking duties, his dish washing duties, and his liquid food duties, would he have to now have to be the one taking dishes from the cabinets? He heard a tiny whimper as Joe swallowed an apology. As many times as he said "sorry", it would still come down to another day of waiting, leaving TK abandoned on the other side of the lake.

A traitorous little voice in the back of his mind whispered, "He's doing it on purpose. He doesn't ever want to leave. You got too close too fast."

It was true, he supposed. The first night he'd spent in the cramped boiler room, he'd ended up in the other boy's futon, childhood memories turned to nightmares and Joe had been more than willing to comfort. It would have been awkward enough with only their partner Digimon wondering what noises they had made, but Joe swore he would keep to secrecy and would end it when Matt wished. It was enjoyable at first, the pressing need to retrieve TK wasn't as strong as present and he was able to, for once, take comfort in being touched and held and pressed against. It was only supposed to be a few days, then they could leave together and deal with everything that came after.

This time it was a glass that made Matt's nerves tighten, and Gomamon yelped as a shard almost flew into his paw. Matt took a deep breath, tuning out Gomamon's angry rantings, and reached out with white knuckles to turn off the faucet. He turned to face the other boy and meant to say, "It's ok. We'll clean it up and work it off."

What came out was: "Damnit, Joe! Can't you use a dish more than once before breaking it?!" He turned and kicked the pile of glass, spraying it against the lower cabinets. "My God, the price sticker was still on that one!"

His breath was coming heavy and his vision was starting to blur as he looked up. He opened his mouth to continue his tirade and stopped short. Joe was crouched on the floor, dustpan in one hand, the other on his cheek, pained tears managing to escape his tightly closed eyes. Gomamon and Gabumon had dropped their (thankfully empty) serving trays and had rushed over, babbling concernedly, watching as blood began flowing through his fingers. Cold terror gripped his chest and he forgot his anger, shoving the Digimon aside as he fell to his knees.

"Shit, Joe, I'm sorry! Are you ok?"

"I'm fine..." He murmured, cracking open one eye. "My glasses kept most of the glass away." He swallowed hard as Matt gently pried his hand away. The blonde gagged on a sudden leap in his stomach as he saw the shard still embedded in Joe's flesh. Blood continued to pour, though the wound didn't look too large or deep.

"Joe..." Matt could barely even whisper. That voice in his head wasn't talking anymore – now it was just laughing. A terrible noise that drowned out everything except his own self-loathing.

"I'll be fine." He tried to smile, wincing as his cut moved. "Just... get the glass out and I'll take care of it."

"I'll get some tweezers from Digitamamon," Gabumon offered. The smell of blood and the sight of it pooling by Joe's side was making him feel weak. He wasn't used to things leaking with pain, so it was a relief to be able to leave, even if he had to interact with their maniacal manager to do it.

As expected, Digitamamon screamed and raved worse than Matt in a full rage and cursed them with more work hours (for the glass, for the scratches on the dropped trays, for the soap to mop the blood, for use of medical supplies) but he ultimately decided it was for the best that one of his cooks didn't bio-contaminate his whole restaurant.

"Just make sure he gets cleaned up," Digitamamon grumbled as he uncovered the dusty first-aid kit from the corner of his office. "Close up early and any customers that want their money back is being put on your tabs!"

Gabumon clutched the small white box and bowed out of the office, rushing back to the kitchen. He found Gomamon and told him to inform the lobby that they would close early. The small seal nodded, looking to the kitchen over his shoulder. The monsters were already underfed to prevent evolution, and the sudden physical shock to Gomamon's Tamer was draining what little remained of his energy to keep Joe from passing out. Gomamon wanted nothing more than to curl up in Joe's arms in their room and let their natural bond restrengthen both of them. But, the sooner he turned everyone out, the sooner he could allow his Tamer to rest.

Gabumon reentered the kitchen, approaching the couple holding each other on the floor. Matt was nuzzling an apology into Joe's shoulder, holding a formerly white towel to his face. Joe was pale, and it was obvious that Gomamon's strength was the only thing keeping him conscious, but he still smiled and whispered reassurances to Matt. Gabumon didn't want to interrupt the pair when they were actually getting along, but he wanted to ease the stress on their whole group.

He held out the first-aid kit and Matt took it. The barest brush between Tamer and partner was enough to calm Matt and he offered a shaky smile. Bloody fingers opened the kit and Joe instructed him which tools to use and how to carefully remove the glass. It wasn't big or jagged, like Matt had suspected, but it was very sharp. He was worried that flakes might still be in Joe, but he didn't say anything. Buried beneath his worry and love, that little voice still wanted Joe to suffer.

An alcohol swab wiped Joe's cheek clean, and the cut, barely a half-inch long, made Matt feel sick to his stomach. There was no needle or thread in the kit, but a dab of superglue and a few butterfly bandages closed the skin and hid the muscle that would surely scar.

Gomamon poked his head in the kitchen and announced that the restaurant was now empty, and only three Digimon had wanted their money back. Matt frowned, worry slowly morphing back into anger, and Joe felt him pull away. He wanted to apologize, to tell him it would be ok, but he held his tongue. Even if his mouth wasn't in throbbing pain, he didn't want to upset the other boy more than he already was. Instead, he said softly and stiffly, "You and Gabumon go, I'll clean the kitchen."

"No," Matt insisted, though not out of kindness. "You're in no shape to clean, you'll just end up knocking over more dishes and bleeding everywhere. We can't afford that on top of all the rest of this." He sighed and pulled away completely, standing over Joe. "Gabumon, Gomamon, and I will clean up. You just... go away."

Joe tenderly touched his cheek, eyes cast to the floor. He watched as Matt's boots walked away and heard the hesitant clicking of claws as the Digimon followed. He wanted to stay and help, but as he stood he swayed, lightheaded, and he realized that anything he touched he would, in fact, drop. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he managed to make his way out the back to the boiler room. He left a bloody handprint on the knob, leaving the door open as he stumbled into his futon. The privacy curtain that separated the room in half barely fluttered and Joe watched it with hazy eyes. He still remembered when Matt put it up. He'd declared that things were too awkward when he thought about them, though he couldn't think of a single night where they weren't sharing a side.

He watched the sun fall below the forest in a pixelated wash of pinks and purples. His cheek burned, pain flowing down to his chest where his crest lay, lifeless and cold. He cursed it, briefly, blaming it for his unwillingness to abandon his duties, to tell Digitamamon off and leave with Matt. But he knew it was more than that, deeper ingrained in himself than just finding it. Ever since he was a child, he'd forced himself to complete any task he'd been given no matter how he felt about it. He supposed this was just another thing he'd work himself to death doing, hating himself the whole way. He wished Matt wouldn't do the same thing to himself, though. He loved the boy and his company too much to actually ask him to leave, but he wouldn't force him to stay if he decided to go.

The moon rose on Joe, half asleep in his thoughts, and the lights in the restaurant went out one by one as Matt and the two Digimon finally closed up. Matt sniffed the collar of his shirt and made a face. He smelled like week old sweat and the stench of the kitchen was so ingrained in the cloth, he'd probably never be able to get it out. By his side, Gomamon was panting heavily, unused to the thorough scrubbing Digitamamon required, and his body had a faint glimmer as he fought to stay in Rookie stage. Gabumon lumbered along, each step stiff and dragging, and though the bond between the blonde Tamer and partner was just as strong, the energy that passed between them was nowhere near as strong as what Gomamon was offering to Joe.

Matt looked up, pausing as he saw that the door to the room he shared was wide open, old blood smeared down the front. For a fleeting moment, he was struck with the terrifying thought that something had broken in and attacked the other boy in his weakened state. His mind, already filled with the image of Joe's blood, raced through every thought of what the other boy could look like, if there was anything left of him. The Digimon looked to him, and he bit his lip to break free to reality. If Joe was, gone, than Gomamon wouldn't be fighting so hard to keep him well. He forced his tired feet on and peered inside, expecting the worst.

Joe was passed out on his side, cheek still sealed, glasses on. He was curled up on his side and drooling on his arm that he was using as a pillow. There was still a dark red crust on his shoulder and under his nails, and he winced as he shifted in his sleep. Gomamon made a noise to Matt that might have been "G'night," and hobbled over to his partner, squirming into a comfortable ball against Joe's stomach. Within moments, he was snoring away, recovering his energy for the both of them.

Matt stepped over Joe, pausing briefly to carefully remove and fold his glasses, and pushed aside the privacy curtain. His futon lay bare, the only indication that someone actually stayed there was his harmonica placed gently next to his pillow. Gabumon yawned, politely waiting for Matt to lay down so they could curl up together.

But he didn't. He stood there, staring at the thin futon. He fought back his own exhaustion, biting his tongue and clenching his fists. What had become his whole life was sitting in that tiny room and he realized he hated it. He should have been back for TK months ago, he wasn't even sure if his brother was still alive! Sure, he had Tokomon with him, but they were both so young.

Briefly, he heard Digitamamon's voice from the first night he'd showed up at the restaurant, reminding him that he could "do whatever I want" to Joe. But what could a Digimon do with a young kid? Besides, a full-time job wasn't a horrible thing for a person, especially one who was already so grown up compared to every other child he knew. He nodded to himself, pushing away all thoughts except those of his brother and squashing down that pesky emotion called guilt.

He looked to Gabumon and held a finger to his lips, ordering silence. The monster looked up with tired eyes, almost falling over asleep. Matt couldn't let himself feel bad for him just yet, so he grabbed his harmonica and ushered Gabumon out the door.

"Where are we going?" Gabumon asked and Matt shushed him.

"We're going back for TK," he whispered. "Joe can stay here all he wants, but I need to leave."

Gabumon nodded, too tired to question further. Obviously, Matt thought he was doing what was best, so he would follow his beloved Tamer wherever he went. As the blond silently slunk away into the forest, finding the trail that would lead him, hopefully, to his swan-boat, Gabumon spared a glance back at Joe. Gomamon, though exhausted now, would surely be enough to protect Joe long enough for them to return.