Insecure

~ Chapter 1 ~

'I hope Seto's okay…' Mokuba thought as he gazed pensively out the window.

He had spent nearly the entire ride focusing and refocusing on his reflection made prominent by the gloom and the atmospheric floor lights casting dim shadows in the back cabin of his limo, all the while listening to Adele perform humbly from behind his seat. He wasn't so much as concerned with his brother's physical well-being as much as his mentality. He was always sure to be a tad extra grumpy when it rained and today proved to be teasing a small flash flood. He began to sigh again and winced as they abruptly hit another pothole by the curb, whizzing straight through the intersection bound to have splashed a small crowd of bystanders on the sidewalk waiting for the bus.

He thought about what bus they could be catching, where they could be going. Home, like himself? To work? From work? He cringed at the thought of how furious they must be with him and his privileged car. He shrunk down a bit in his seat, offhandedly wondering how much rainfall the city averaged. He mentally counted every person with an umbrella they passed, every girl with polka dotted rainboots. He thought about Adele's new song, and what he thought of it. Somber melody, plain and simple, coherent messaging and the chorus easy to follow. What most songs these days needed, in his opinion. He found himself mentally going through the motions with her the third time around, though he would never admit it to anyone. Since he had been old enough to understand what she was singing about, he found himself genuinely curious about who this person was and what they had done to be focused on so acutely. How a person could hold such an infamy to their name without it being said or known to him. And why? Maybe it was just the power of Adele, he concluded. The same way Edgar Allen Poe could strike fear and induce physical chills through his pieces just as effectively.

He thought about the girls at school who would always sing it. He thought about the one he liked, who didn't. She wasn't much of an "expressive" girl in his eyes. He thought about his brother, who could be interpreted in the same way. He wondered if he would approve of her if he ever got around to telling him about her. Would it even be worth the take of breath? Would he even care? Probably not. He rolled around to recapping the day he had had and thought about his upcoming Chemistry exam and the impending 'A' he was expecting from his recent Statistics quiz. He thought about his Home ec class and homework. He thought of the homeless who didn't have work, or a home to go to.

In that fleeting instant he just wanted to give every penny he could spare to eradicate the poverty and unfair minimum wage in the city, to the soup kitchens and the shelters. He thought about his girl again, how she volunteered at some local animal shelter on weekends since her mother and father were allergic to most pet dander. She loved animals. The thought of her sparked the images of sickly, abused animals that were desperate for help, followed by her cradling and bottle-feeding a litter of two-week old kittens. Not for the first time he thought about adopting a certain Jack Russel terrier she favored as a secret present. He would keep it in a secluded quarter of the house, where he stupidly hoped his brother would never find it, so she would have an excuse to come over and she could have a pet. He sighed again, more longingly this time.

They were ready to take the familiar turn onto the expressway when Mokuba was tugged away from his thoughts by a curious, dark mass upcoming on the sidewalk. As they came to a stop next to it, he noticed it was trembling. It was a mass of blankets, with a drenched curl of what seemed to be blond hair peeking from a small, inverted teardrop shaped opening in the front with a cardboard sign scribbled on with water-streaked marker floating in a puddle next to it. There was a great leap of shock in his chest as Mokuba rushed to pat his pockets for his wallet. He fumbled as he looked frantically from his lap to the traffic light. He let the window down halfway, extending his arm through the downpour to the shivering stranger.

The stranger turned their shrouded face to the folded bill in his hand, seeming reluctant to take it. They reached out, hesitated, and gave a gesture somewhat akin to a wave before they accepted the tribute, their brief touch of hands contrasting against Mokuba's soft warmth with a rigid callous and cold. They briefly shook and Mokuba reeled his half soaked arm back into the car as it sped off again. He wiggled his fingers, trying to flex some feeling back into them, musing that the stranger had to have been a man. Their hand had been twice the size of his own and their frame had quite a wide build he could tell, even underneath the heaviness of that soaked bedsheet.

'Doesn't he know that only makes it worse?' he wondered painfully. 'I guess he does…' he thought as the wind whipped the rain in swirls ahead and alongside of him. Now all he could do was worry and wonder how sick the man was bound to get. 'He going to catch a cold.' He anxiously tapped his fingers. 'He could catch pneumonia. He could catch pneumonia and die—damn it—'

"Stop!"

The tires locked and whizzed and screeched underneath him and he clutched onto the door for dear life as the limo coasted a few feet to the side of the road before it came to a halt.

"What's the matter, sir?"

"We have to go back."

There was a brief pause. "But sir, Master Kaiba is awaiting your return—"

"Now!" He held his breath.

The driver sighed quietly, turning on his signal ready to merge back into traffic. "Where to, sir?"

"Back down Mayberry Road."

"Right away, sir."

He let it go. Mokuba was suddenly shivering from nerves, exhilaration and the sudden icy chill creeping up his arm as he settled back into his seat. He had never snapped at Mandel like that before. Briefly, he wondered if his brother still got those occasional chills from time to time whenever he barked orders at people. He doubted it. He decided to nullify the theory that most people had adapted, that he "got off" on it. It was to the point to where it already happened so often that Mokuba wished he didn't know what the euphemism meant. If he remembered correctly, the first person he had verbally heard it from was Yugi's brash friend, Joey. Or Wheeler, as his brother courteously referred to him as on his good days.

It had been a while since he personally heard from either of them. It had been a good few months, at least. Now that he thought about it, it had been roughly a year. Two? He hadn't the slightest idea.

It was a brief tangent that got him nowhere as Mokuba dropped it and began scanning every street corner they passed off the exit, retracing their route to the upcoming traffic light.

"When, sir?" Mandel asked.

"Uhh…" They were approaching the spot where Mokuba had seen the stranger, only to find that the street corner was now deserted. Part of Mokuba was relieved. The other half raced to worry that the stranger had keeled over blue on the sidewalk and had been hauled off on a stretcher to a mortician or kicked and rolled into the bushes on the side of the road. "Nevermind. You can take me home now."

~ M ~

Eight minutes later Mokuba was sprinting up the front walk through the downpour where the door was promptly opened for him and his coat was taken by Mary; a shorter, brunette, bowing maid. He slipped off his shoes and felt the slight, familiar bounce of the plush carpet of the foyer through his socks, then the slippery hardwood of the staircase he climbed, heading for his brother's study.

"You're five minutes late," he heard no sooner had he entered.

Mokuba briefly rolled his eyes knowing that he was teasing, even if his tone was serious. "That's only five over Mand's record time."

Kaiba almost sneered as he flashed his eyes to him, still shifting through a page on his computer screen. "How was school?"

"Fine." He set his bag next to the sofa as he crashed onto it. "We reached our goal for the bake sale—which appreciated those Snickerdoodles you "made" by the way…" He smirked as his brother's hand froze atop the mouse and cast a murderous glare in his direction. "Your secret's safe with me," he said as he folded his fingers together in satisfactory on top of his chest. "The thing is…I sorta ate em."

"Figured as much," he snorted.

"But Cathy helped me make something. It was a last ditch effort but—"

"It's the last time I "contribute" to any of your school functions. It's asinine, really."

"…the icing made it edible. How so?" he asked.

"Unendorsed labor, children pestering for contributors, that's what the administration should be doing. Not forcing kids to kiss the ass of every adult they see with googly eyes to raise money for a cause they hardly have knowledge of. Could be supporting that principle's drinking habit for all you know. I should know. I fail to see much variation from a Chinese sweatshop pushing out counterfeit handbags."

"Come on. It's called volunteering, Seto. Like it's any different than the donating you do for charity events."

"There's a huge difference. I have no choice."

"You choose how much you donate."

"Kaiba Corp.'s obligated to a certain amount."

"'As long as it outweighs everyone else's efforts' isn't a set amount, Seto. Anyway, we have a school trip coming up—"

"Please, just set it on the mounting pile of other documents I need to sign," he tersely interrupted.

"Seto," he sighed, "why do you insist on bringing your work home?"

"Being the CEO of Kaiba Corp I fail to notice the difference between bringing my work home and being at home in the office." Mokuba knew he hardly had to glance up to know he was frowning at him. "I practically live at the office, Mokuba. This is merely routine and you know it."

Mokuba tried to blow it off this time and took a deep breath. "I could just forge your signature," he mumbled.

His jaw tensing, Mokuba could tell his brother was tapping the fingers of his unoccupied hand on his lap, taking note of his slumped posture. "Just give it here," he finally said.

Mokuba unzipped his bag and three seconds later it was in Kaiba's hands, who was pushing up a set of reading lens over his nose as he looked it over.

"It's just a trip to the planetarium."

"Didn't you go on this same trip last year?"

"Two years ago. They added a new exhibit."

"Hn. Doubt it'll make much difference." Kaiba undocked a pen from the head of his desk and put his signature in thin calligraphy a slight even millimeter over the line.

Mokuba half-smiled when he remembered, "Didn't you wanna go just a few months ago?"

"No, that was you asking to go to the aquarium."

'Right…' he drawled within his head. "Well, either way we never went."

"Since when do you even take interest in looking at obese mammals in tanks? You could just go to the ocean and see them beached for free. They even come with the courtesy of clothing."

"Since when do you take interest in balls of gas when you could just eat Indian food and have a colonoscopy?"

His jaw clenched again. Mokuba was smirking and biting back a laugh and even though his eyes were back at his computer screen again, he knew he could see him from the corner of his eye. Tapping his mouse again, they cut to him. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"No."

"Mokuba, don't lie to me."

"I'm not," he said with a hint of defense noticing his voice was raising.

"So if I called your tutor right now, all of your assignments would be done?"

He rolled his eyes. "Like you would waste your precious time. He has a name you know."

"This isn't a threat, Mokuba," his brother managed with less menace than Mokuba could tell wanted to be expressed. Against his better judgement, it only urged Mokuba to challenge his patience.

"Oh, but god-forbid your baby being open to neglect for a full sixty seconds while you discipline me."

"Keep in mind that that baby is paying for your education, this house, and sustaining the company you keep around to keep that smart mouth of yours updated with plenty of unnecessary attitude I have to deal with."

Mokuba's slight, smug smile fell. His eyes widened and everything went still. "I…I—they don't… People enjoy my company," he said. Mokuba stared at his brother with his breath stalling in his lungs as he opened his mouth multiple times, grasping for something more to say, before he finally let it go and frowned.

"Thanks to mine."

That did it. His frown deepened until it had sunk and solidified into a spitting mirror-image of the scowl his older brother was infamous for, and he said, "You know you could try being less of a jerk sometimes, Seto. It would do you some good." He wished he could have said something much more cutting, but that was the best he could settle for along with snatching the slip from underneath his hand, snatching up his bag, and storming out of the room.

Kaiba, not realizing that he was standing from his chair, heavily sat down and stretched his legs, lazily letting the chair spin towards the wall of a window behind him and tilting his head to look out at the gloom backdrop of his backyard. He rolled his eyes seeing his irked expression staring back at him and returned to his proper posture and back to his computer, in his mind already contemplating turning in early tonight.