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Matt is eight. He is alone.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can, Matt. Okay? You just watch TV until I’m back, and stay out of trouble. Alright? Matt.”
It’s the first night this happens, but it won’t be the last. Even as a child, Matt can tell that will be the case. This isn’t a routine. Yet. But he knows there’s a yet there, and he’s already lonely.
His dad took him to get a pizza that they brought back to the apartment. Some kind of consolation prize for Matt before spending an evening (and night) alone in the apartment. It doesn’t feel like their apartment yet. There are still things in boxes. The two of them have not figured it out yet. How things will be. How they will be.
Matt gets up to refill his glass of water in the kitchen. He pauses to stare at the front door on his way—closed and not opening anytime soon. He tries not to think about that.
The TV is on and playing some game show that Matt doesn’t care about. There’s always game shows on though, no matter the hour. This is a fact of life he’ll become accustomed to.
Another slice of pizza. He tries eating it slowly. If he takes a long time to eat, time will go faster. Maybe.
It doesn’t work. Not really.
It’s ten PM, and Matt is bored. He’s not tired though. Not really.
There’s a litany of options scattered around the coffee table. A puzzle book his dad got him. The fantasy books Matt has been reading for school. An actual jigsaw puzzle. Throughout the night, he’s plucked at each of them listlessly, only to put them down shortly after. Nothing is working.
He grabs the harmonica.
It’s still a work in progress—him and this harmonica. It’s getting there.
On TV, the cooking show he had on wraps up. A commercial break begins before the next one. Matt stares at an advertisement for a cleaning product momentarily before looking down at the instrument in his hand. He looks at the sliding doors for their balcony.
Their balcony? He supposes it is theirs.
Matt opens the sliding doors with the hesitance of a child doing something for the first time, which he is.
It’s cool outside, and there’s a nice breeze. He incles closer to the railing and looks up. It’s hard to see many stars in the middle of this metropolis, but he seeks them out in the cloudy, dark ocean up above.
One alone.
Three grouped together.
Two in the distance.
He counts them all and then keeps counting.
He feels something like companionship.
The harmonica slots against his lips, and that at least is familiar now.
As he settles into the same song he’s been learning and figuring out, he thinks that the stars are a lot more entertaining than anything on the television. He thinks he’d like a closer look.
Matt is eleven. He is not alone.
“What are you thinking about?”
Gabumon’s voice has already become so familiar.
“Hm? Oh,” Matt looks down at his partner then back up at the sky. “The stars aren’t the same here.”
There’s more of them too. At least, they’re a lot more visible than in the city back home.
Gabumon follows his line of sight up to the dark tapestry above them. Matt thinks it kind of looks like this one silk scarf his mom used to wear. He wonders if she still has it. He wonders how many constellations were on that scarf. He never counted.
“Hey… Uh.”
Joe’s voice is way more hesitant than it should be. Too nervous to startle Matt, no matter how entranced he was. Matt rolls his eyes, “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing, just-” Joe looks down. “Sorry to interrupt. But it’s my turn to take the watch.”
Matt frowns at Joe, “What are you apologizing for?”
“Ah, sorry—I mean, uh!”
It’s actually pretty funny. Gomamon seems to think so too if that little smirk is any indicator.
“Joe. Stop apologizing.”
“Right, sorry—I mean—”
Matt starts laughing, and Gomamon joins in. Joe looks sheepish in a way that means it’s probably okay to laugh.
“Anyways,” Joe grins; it’s still nervous. If a grin can be shaky, this one is. “You two should get some sleep. We’ll take over from here.”
Matt’s eyes drift upwards again. There are five stars arranged in a kind of pentagon. He’s been trying to imagine what they could be. A house, maybe. A home? Matt’s not really sure he knows what that word means, anyways.
“Matt?”
Matt turns back to Joe, “I’m not really tired, so I’m going to stay out here.” At the look of surprise on Joe’s face, he quickly adds, “If you don’t mind, I mean.”
Gabumon tilts his head, “Matt, you need rest just as much as the others!”
“I know, but it’s not a big deal. I’m—”
I’m used to it.
He doesn’t feel like saying that part. Joe’s looking at him with a little too much understanding though.
“Well, we’re still going to take over watch,” says Joe. He’s smiling in that gentle kind of way he does. Matt’s seen him use it with T.K. and Mimi. “You know, as the ones who’ve gotten some shut eye around here.”
It doesn’t feel worth arguing. Matt nods, “Sure, if that’s what you want.” He glances over at Gabumon. “You should get some sleep if you need it though.”
Gabumon studies Matt for a while. They’re still getting to know each other, after all. He shifts closer to Matt. “No. I’m staying right here.”
Somehow, Matt knew he’d say as much.
They settle side by side while Joe and Gomamon begin their watch. Matt’s eyes fix up at the stars again. He starts counting, but there’s way more stars than night in the city has ever given him. He thinks about this world that they’re in. He thinks about their world they’ve left.
He thinks about what else is out there.
Matt is fifteen. There’s a guitar in his hands when his dad comes home from work.
The front door opens, and Matt’s dad sighs—a tired, weary sound like gravel running slowly down a rocky surface. Matt knows that sound like the strings on his bass. Better, even.
He looks up from the sheet music he’s scribbling on and smirks at his dad, “What’s up, Pops?”
“Just another day.”
“You’re telling me.”
It’s a classic exchange for them.
Hiroaki slumps into a chair at the kitchen table; Matt looks over the back of the couch and says unceremoniously, “Dinner’s in the fridge. Pork fried rice.”
Hiroaki doesn’t respond with words, just an appreciative groan that Matt knows is genuine. The room stays silent other than the sound of guitar strings being plucked. Matt has an idea for a new song. If he could just…
“Your math teacher called today.”
Matt’s index finger picks at a string too hard as his head whips up to stare at his dad, “What?”
Hiroaki chuckles, “I know. I was surprised too. Went through the hassle of hunting me down at work and everything.”
Blonde eyebrows knit together. “What’d she want?’
It’s been a while since Matt got into trouble—real trouble—at school.
“She was disappointed that she didn’t get to meet me at conferences.”
“Oh.” It’s also been a while since school staff sought out Hiroaki’s presence as a parent. After all, Matt isn’t a child anymore. “So you’re the one in trouble?”
Hiroaki shakes his head and stands. “No one’s in trouble.”
He returns with a beer a minute later.
Matt frowns, “Dinner—”
“I know, I know, Kid.”
They both know. Hiroaki won’t actually skip meals when it’s ready and waiting.
He levels Matt with a steady stare, “She’s been talking with your physics teacher.”
Matt blinks, “Uh.”
Hiroaki studies him for a moment, taking a long draught from the beer. “They’re impressed with you.”
A little pink worms its way onto Matt’s cheeks; he can feel it. He looks down at the guitar, “They called you at work just to tell you that?”
“It sounds like,” Hiroaki pauses; there’s something strange in his eyes, “they see a lot of potential in you.”
Matt frowns at the music notes dotting the papers in front of him, “Potential for what?”
“Beats me, Kid,” There’s a small smirk in Hiroaki’s voice; Matt can hear it. “Something with math and science, I guess. Not my wheelhouse that’s for sure. Or your mother’s. But then again, neither of us ever did anything musical either.”
Matt doesn’t say anything.
“I was surprised…”
He’s not sure how to read the tone in Hiroaki’s voice. Somehow, it sounds like pride and disappointment and surprise all at once.
“I know your grades have always been fine in math, but…”
Matt’s lips purse.
“It just seemed like…”
“Seemed like what?”
Hiroaki doesn’t really deserve the challenge in Matt’s voice, but it’s there nonetheless. Because Matt can sense it already—the surprise and disbelief. He knows what it means. He knows how people see him.
“Music is the only thing I’ve ever seen you take such an interest in.”
Matt blinks and looks up. It’s not quite what he was expecting to hear, and that’s a good thing. His dad’s expression is contemplative, not judgemental.
“They also agreed—both of them—that you seem reluctant to participate in class. Your math teacher says you have a real flare for… What’d she say? Well, just that you always work out formulas in… impressive ways? Clever. She said clever.”
Matt stares.
Hiroaki frowns, “Why not join in during class? She made it sound like you should be up at the board all the time.”
Matt looks away, “People get weird about it. When it’s me.”
Hiroaki is really frowning now, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Matt shrugs with one shoulder and resumes picking at his guitar strings.
“Matt.”
“It’s like you said,” Matt mumbles, letting a few chords echo in sequence, “people don’t expect that of me.”
“Well, since when did you care about what people think?”
That’s a yes and no kind of answer. Matt cares. A lot. Probably too much. He also doesn’t… Not when it comes to what he does or how he does it.
It’s complicated. It feels complicated.
“The whole thing made me a little embarrassed.”
That gets Matt’s attention. He looks up at Hiroaki, who is decidedly staring at their small kitchen table. Matt doesn’t say anything. Hiroaki already said that so he’s going to finish the thought.
“I realized we’ve never talked much… about… what you want to do when you’re done with school.”
“Oh.” Matt doesn’t know what to say to that. It hasn’t necessarily occurred to him that that is something his dad is supposed to ask him about.
“You always seemed so passionate about music.”
He has. That’s true, but it wasn’t necessarily… Matt thinks about what it’s like singing in front of a large, screaming crowd. It’s an intense high, one that he’s starting to chase. The chasing kind of worries him. It doesn’t feel like what Gabumon was describing—years ago, in that cave; it doesn’t feel like what he’d be doing if he knew he mattered to people. If he understood that.
Hiroaki wanders into Matt’s field of vision.
“What do you want to do?”
“Uh.”
Matt looks down at his guitar then finds his eyes drifting out towards their balcony windows.
“I’m not sure.”
“Hm.”
Matt looks back at his dad. Hiroaki’s got a tiny smile on his face.
“That’s alright.”
Matt is eighteen.
“Engineering?”
He is getting used to this response.
“Yeah. Mechanical.”
He tries to set his jaw in a way that’s going to shut down questions preemptively. It’s hit or miss.
“Wow, really?”
In this case, it’s a miss. T.K. chuckles nervously from his seat on their mother’s couch, and Kari shifts a little beside him. Their friends from school don’t pick up on their body language.
“Yeah. Really.” His voice is stiff—almost brittle.
“Wow!” says the girl from… Actually, screw it, Matt doesn’t know where any of these kids are from. This is what he gets, really, for leaving sheet music at his mom’s apartment.
“No kidding,” says Matt.
T.K. must sense the danger in Matt’s voice because he cuts in, “Yeah, Matt’s always been good at math!”
“Way better than my brother,” adds Kari, and she truly is an angel on earth.
Matt smirks at her, “That’s a low bar.”
The boy who initially asks leans back in his seat, still staring at Matt without seeing him, “So how’s it going so far?”
“It’s fine,” Matt shrugs. “Just early classes right now.”
“So shit hasn’t hit the fan yet, huh?”
“What is that supposed to m-”
“ANYWAYS,” T.K. is in full Danger Mode now. “What’d you say you were looking for, Matt?”
“I left—” Matt chooses not to say music— “some stuff here when I was over last week.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s in my room, I think.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
He tunes out the high schoolers’ conversation as he wanders into T.K.’s bedroom, pausing as always to note how much neater it is than his. T.K. even left Matt’s stuff on an end table near the door.
“Thanks,” Matt says upon reentering the living room.
“Yeah, no problem!”
“Do you want to stay and hang out?” It’s sweet and so very Kari of her to ask.
Matt smirks and glances at his brother for less than a second, “Nah, I gotta head out. You kids have fun though.”
“‘Kids,’ he says. When are you gonna-”
“Never.”
There’s some mutual heckling after that, and it all sees Matt safely to the door with no further interrogation of his studies via random high schoolers.
Cool autumn air braces him once he’s outside the complex, and he looks up at the sun setting low in the sky. It’s weird. Before university, he was so nervous about it. His fledgling plans for the future. He still is, in a way, but, because he’s Matt and because he’s stubborn, the questioning he now gets sets him more firmly on the path. It feels more like an act of defiance, and, for some reason (something something childhood something), that’s motivating.
What does that kid know anyway?
Hands shove into his pockets, and he sets off to the library.
Matt is twenty-three. He is staring at a computer screen. It feels like it stares back at him.
He barely hears the footsteps behind him, but, all of a sudden, Joe’s hand is on his shoulder. “Matt.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. “Mm.”
“Matt.”
Joe’s voice is, as always, unbelievably gentle, and that’s what never fails to get Matt to move when he’s stuck.
“What?”
“You know what,” says Joe; his voice hints at a laugh. “Come on. Your application is ready. You just need to click that—” One long finger points at a “submit” button at the bottom of the screen. “—right there.”
“I know…”
Joe’s thumb rubs into Matt’s shoulder blade. He doesn’t say anything, so Matt knows he’s just waiting now. That usually gets Matt to move too. Well, these days. It’s taken them a while to get to this point.
Matt inhales, and the air shakes on its way down. “What if this is a mistake?”
Joe hums, “Is it? You tell me.”
“Wh- Joe, I don’t-”
“You know,” says Joe, simply. “You always do.”
Matt doesn’t say anything.
“Decisive.”
Joe’s been saying it since the cave.
Matt swallows some nerves, “Charting my own course, huh?”
“Mm,” Joe’s thumb moves in a slow steady circle. “To the stars. If you wanted.”
It happens automatically. The cursor on Matt’s screen seems to find its way to “submit” all on its own, but Matt knows when his finger actually clicks down.
“There.” Matt can hear the smile in Joe’s voice.
“Yeah,” Matt lets go of the breath he’d been holding. “Here we go, I guess.”
“Mmhm. Now,” Joe’s hand doesn’t leave. “Want me to help with dinner? Gomamon and Gabumon should be home soon.”
The submission screen holds Matt’s gaze, but he tears his eyes away and grins, “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”