Hi! This will be my second story for this section.
If you're confused about the pairing, it's this-
Established: Yuumeishipping
Eventual: This pairing has no name, but it's Yuumeishipping with Anzu
Yes, this is PRO Anzu. An extreme majority of the story is from her point of view as well. No like, no read.
There is an OC in this, but she's mainly just there for support. She has a not really/slightly important role, and she won't interact with much of anyone besides Anzu. She's just there to help her along so that they can eventually all get together. Like, she's there for realizations and such. She's not paired with anyone, so don't get your panties/boxers in a twist. She's in here a lot for the first few chappies, but you'll understand why when/if you read the story.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh or Breaking the Habit by Linkin Park.
I'm Sorry, I Love You
Chapter 1: Breaking the Habit
Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I had no options left again
~Linkin Park
Mazaki Anzu was a happy go lucky, cheery girl.
Mazaki Anzu was the first friend of one Mouto Yugi, co King of Games.
Mazaki Anzu was known for her devotion to friendship, and in turn, her friends.
But, there were things no one knew about Mazaki Anzu.
Mazaki Anzu was in love with six men.
Mazaki Anzu was hiding her true self behind a mask every day.
Mazaki Anzu was broken.
And that, my friends, is where our story begins…
Anzu sat in the bay window in her room, forehead resting idly against the glass. Bright blue eyes, once sparkling with life, had dulled and glazed-a sad testament of their previous luster.
She sighed, pale lids sliding shut over the blue. She hadn't always been like this. She'd been happy, once.
Those days, she knew, were long over now, though.
It had started out wonderfully. She'd met Yugi, become his friend with Jou and Honda, and they'd gone and kicked some bad guy ass. But then Yugi's other personality had appeared, Yami, and things had gotten more complicated.
During Duelist Kingdom, Anzu had started the first in what would become a chain of events leading up to how she was now.
She'd fallen in love with Mouto Yugi.
Simple, right?
No.
Because then the second event had come along.
Falling in love with Yami.
Twisted, right? How could she fall in love with Yugi, and Yami? Especially when they both inhabited the same body?
But it only gets worse from there.
Because then, Ryou had come along.
And through him she met Bakura.
Then Battle City brought Malik and Marik.
And suddenly, Anzu found herself knee deep in a situation that for the life of her she didn't know how to get out of.
When Yugi and Yami had dueled and Yugi won, Yami ended up deciding to stay-and the gods granted he, Bakura, and Marik bodies so that they may live the lives that were stolen from them. Anzu had repressed her feelings for all six as best she could, and had succeeded.
Until they started coupling off, that is.
Yami and Yugi had gotten together just days after Yami got his body.
Marik and Malik followed not long after, then Ryou and Bakura.
Watching them, happy with each other, had hurt her.
Having Yugi confide in her his happiness at having Yami with him had hurt her.
Seeing Marik, Malik, Bakura, and Ryou become a four person couple, adding Yami and Yugi later on as well to make it six, had hurt her.
It hurt so incredibly much.
All she'd ever done was love them-and look where it had gotten her.
Watching the six of them, happy together.
Happy without her.
And knowing that no matter how much she prayed, no matter how much she acted like everything was normal and hung out with them, there would never be room for her.
They already had each other.
Mazaki Anzu let out a shuddering sigh, and pulled away from the glass. Opening her eyes, she stared at her reflection. Pale skin, lips pulled into a frown, eyes staring emptily back…
She blinked, and the image was replaced with that of a smiling sixteen year old, eyes glittering with a calm happiness.
The mask was in place.
And it would remain there, until the day she could no longer force it into place, and the world would see what had become of Mazaki Anzu.
Anzu's thumb traced over the thin scars that marred her arms.
A day that would soon be coming.
"Hey Anzu!"
Anzu turned around on the sidewalk, finding Yugi, Yami, Ryou, and Bakura not too far behind. She paused in her step, waiting for the four to catch up to her.
"Hello, Yugi," she giggled. "How are you four today?"
"I'm good," Yugi smiled, leaning into Yami's side.
"Fantastic, really," Ryou grinned softly.
Yami snorted. "I'd be better if the Tomb Robber dropped at my feet admitting defeat for once."
Bakura tsked, "Watch your mouth, Pharaoh, or I'll do it for you."
The former pharaoh smirked. "Promise?"
A lecherous light entered the dark brown eyes of the former thief, and his next smirk showed his abnormally sharp canines. "Is that a challenge?"
"It's whatever you want it to be, thief."
Anzu fell back behind the group, watching them in their usual routine. It wasn't all that shocking to see them like this. Bakura and Yami would bicker, eventually leading to a make-out session, as Ryou and Yugi watched amusedly, sending each other small, secretive glances.
The group rounded the corner, Malik and Marik waiting for them there.
"Heeeeey!" Malik called, hands waving frantically over his head at them.
"Malik!" Ryou laughed as said Egyptian glomped the whitenette.
"Morning, Ishtar," Bakura intoned drawlingly at Marik.
The Tomb Keeper smirked, wrapping his arm about the former King of Thieves' waist. "You seem happy to see me, Baku-Baku."
Bakura rolled his eyes at the nickname. "Ass."
"Why yes, it is rather pretty, isn't it?" Marik acted as though he were checking out Yugi's backside, head tilted and fingers stroking his chin.
Yugi 'eeped' and hid behind his yami.
"Good morning, Anzu," Malik greeted, while Marik grunted out her last name with a nod.
She gave them her best false smile, "Morning, boys."
Yugi frowned briefly in her direction. "Anzu? You okay?"
She blinked, acting the part of the dimwitted cheerleader so many thought her to be. "Why wouldn't I be, Yugi?"
His brow furrowed, and he looked over her once more, before shrugging. "No reason."
She giggled cutely, as expected of her, and skipped ahead. "Come on, you lazies! We'll be late!"
As they trailed along after her, laughing and smiling, none of them noticed the way her right hand trailed to her left side, tracing an invisible pattern on her other forearm through the cloth.
Lunch was Hell.
Of course, when you were stuck watching the ones you love mingle and give each other those looks, it was impossible for it to be anything else.
Her eyes scanned the boys who sat on all sides of her, briefly observing Kaiba and Jou as they had another sexual tension-fueled argument, the azure color glazed and bland.
"Malik!" Ryou giggled, playfully shoving the Egyptian boy that was attempting to nip at his neck. "Stop it!"
Pain shot across her mind.
Something told her it was time to get out of there.
Jumping up, she aimed the usual smile and a quick excuse at Yugi, who gave a confused look in return as she rushed from the cafeteria. Her goal was the girl's bathroom one floor up, the one no one went to anymore since half the stall doors were hanging on one hinge and the walls were covered in nonsensical graffiti.
The far stall was the only one that had a lock and both hinges, so naturally that was her choice for the task in mind. Closing the toilet lid as she slid the lock in place, Anzu searched through the inner pockets of her uniform for the required tool. The neon yellow plastic container of razors had at one time been her fathers, until he'd decided to divorce her mother for the first rich bitch to come along.
Sliding the top off the case, she used her thumb on the flat side of the blade to slide one out from the others. Placing the leftovers off to the side on the toilet paper dispenser, she rolled up her jacket cuffs to bare her left forearm and wrist. Carefully, she positioned the sharp corner of the razor above the pale skin in the middle of her wrist. She didn't like using the straight blade, too afraid that she would put too much pressure on one spot and would nick a vein. Using the corner was the perfect solution, allowing her to be more precise with her cuts, even if it took longer to do.
In her head, images clamored in an explosion of anxiety and inadequacy. Malik nipping Ryou's neck was frequently shown, as well as the scenes from this morning. Their laughter, their smiles, their love, played a broken record in her mind.
Why would they want you? her mind cruelly whispered. You're just the cheerleader. Always there for support. How selfish of you to believe that you deserved even an ounce of their love. Why give any of it to you, Anzu? Why, when they can give it to each other? You're sole purpose is to make them happy, by whatever means are necessary. You know that. You've always known that. You're the background character designed to further progress their goals. Your dreams, your feelings…
Are meaningless.
She screamed for her subconscious to shut up, pressing the tip of the razor into the tender skin so that a drop of red beaded on the surface. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation, a sort of quasi-excitement building in her abdomen. The sharp sting as she drew the blade numbed her brain into silence, redirecting her pain to something more manageable. A soft exhale blew from her lips as her shoulders slumped, bliss loosening her body into that pleasurable sensation reminiscent of the feeling you got while resting after doing something strenuous.
Lazily, she watched blood pool from the thin cut, sliding down her arm to drip to the floor. The first time she'd seen her own blood had been frightening, not knowing how long the cut was supposed to bleed or if it would even stop, worrying she'd gone too deep. Her technique had gotten better since then, and she'd begun to see a strange sort of beauty in the act. Almost like watching a bright red flower bloom to life in a field of unblemished snow.
Smiling now that the depression on her mind had been lifted, she ripped a few squares of tissue paper from the dispenser and wiped away the blood on her arm and the floor as the wound began to clot and cut the flow. She winced a little as small stings tingled in her nerves with each movement of the wrist. While making the cut hurt, after doing so the wound was always numb for a few minutes until clotting, at which point the sting set in. But a few stings from the cuts-old and new, of which there were now three cuts on the left and two on the right in total that had been deep enough to leave noticeable scars-was well worth the mental relief she gained in return.
Rolling the sleeves back in place, she opened the door and emerged in the middle of stuffing the razors back into her bag.
"You know, I never knew Mazaki Anzu to be the cutting type."
Anzu's head whipped around so fast the vertebrae popped, finding a girl she knew to be in her class, but had never actually spoken to. Kyoko Sorano, loner extraordinaire, leaned against the paper towel dispenser, arms crossed and head cocked. A small smile upturned purple painted lips knowingly; thickly lined dark cinnamon eyes glinted and crinkled predatorily. As if the dark makeup wasn't enough to set Anzu off to exactly what group this girl ran with, the earrings of dangling skeletons, thick, long purple skull and crossbones stockings and black checkered converse shoes sealed the deal.
Sorano waved a fingerless black and purple gloved hand airily, the cheap lights in the bathroom glistening off the shiny coat of black on her nails. "Of course," she pushed away from the dispenser, stalking closer to Anzu with that lazy predator's look, "I don't really know Mazaki Anzu, do I?"
"Was there something you wanted, Kyoko-san?" Anzu asked hurriedly, if not a bit icily as well.
Sorano blinked rapidly, brows rising on her forehead in amusement. "Not really, Mazaki-san. I'm just so curious…"
"It's none of your business," Anzu snapped.
Sorano nodded agreeably. "Indeed, it isn't. But I simply must confirm my suspicions. After all, you are doing this to yourself because of them, aren't you?"
Anzu's muscles stiffened, her mouth on the defense before her brain knew what it was doing. "Them? Who's them?"
Sorano smiled in a way that was reminiscent of the cat that got the cream. "Why, them, obviously. Yami, Marik, Ryou, Bakura, Yugi, Malik…"
"I don't know what you're talking about." She brushed past the girl in an attempt to leave, but her next words stopped Anzu dead in her tracks.
"Oh, but I think you do. Really, I'm surprised I'm the only one who noticed just how in love with them you really are."
The azure eyed girl spun on her heel, glaring as fiercely as she could. "I'm not in love with them." She could almost taste ash on her tongue after speaking such a blasphemous lie.
Sorano's eyes flashed downwards for a brief second, before coming back up and meeting Anzu's glare once more-her dark cinnamon browns taking on an oddly soft look. "Says the girl bleeding through her sleeve for them," she whispered.
Anzu gasped, pulling her arm up and finding that her blood had indeed seeped through the dark material. Rushing to a sink, she grappled with the faucet handle and plunged her wrist beneath the lukewarm water after rolling her sleeve. In the mirror, she saw Sorano sigh and reach for a black messenger bag Anzu hadn't previously noticed lying beneath the paper towel dispenser. The ravenette rummaged for a second, pulling out a white plastic container two inches thick, three inches wide, two and a half inches long.
She approached Anzu with the box, holding her hand out expectantly. "Give me your wrist."
Anzu hesitated, but the stern look in the other female's gaze made her look down and hand it over. Surprisingly gently, Sorano cradled Anzu's wrist in one hand while the other flipped open the white box-revealing it to be a first aid kit. Swiftly and efficiently, Sorano rubbed Neosporin on the cut and covered it with a layer of gauze held down by medical tape.
Anzu was quiet during the procedure, wincing every so often, not meeting the other girl's eyes. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. She didn't like showing the scars on her arms to someone-it made her feel self-conscious. It made her feel pathetic. It made her feel…weak.
"You're not weak."
Anzu's head snapped up, shocked. "Wh-what?"
Sorano barely glanced up before focusing on her newest task, scrubbing the blood from Anzu's uniform sleeve with Tide To Go and a paper towel. "I said you're not weak. So stop thinking it."
"How did you…?"
"You're pretty easy for me to read." She finished her task, rolling Anzu's sleeve back into place and tossing the paper towel into the waste basket. "I mean, I've studied you enough to understand your thoughts even with the mask on, so it's like taking candy from a baby when it's off."
Anzu's voice when she spoke was awed. "You've…been studying me?"
Sorano rolled her eyes, putting her supplies away and stuffing them in her bag. "Of course I have. I mean, here was Mazaki Anzu-who rumors said could only be the happiest, kindest, most supportive person alive-wearing what was possibly the fakest smile I've ever seen." She sat on the edge of one of the sinks, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Anzu. "Wouldn't you be curious too?"
Anzu bit her lip. "How did you know to come here?"
Sorano tapped a black painted finger to her chin, looking at the ceiling contemplatively. "Well, at this point I imagine that cutting has become a habit for you, right? You do it whenever the…pain, I suppose…becomes too much?" When Anzu nodded, she continued. "I knew that you favored this bathroom for your activities because I've seen you slip in here quite a few times. Not to mention that it's perfect for that sort of thing-secluded, unused, practically abandoned-so there was less risk of getting caught. With the display Ryou and Malik were putting on in the lunch room, it was really just a matter of watching and waiting for you to escape. After all-habits become patterns, and patterns are traceable."
Anzu shifted uncomfortably. "You make me sound like an animal or science experiment," she muttered.
Sorano's eyes flickered down, the dazed expression gone and replaced with stony vigilance. "That's not it at all, Anzu," she whispered, soft tones in sharp contrast with her hard face. "Trust me. I'd never undermine, or belittle this. Your situation…isn't anything I could ever find the ability to brush aside as unimportant."
Anzu was momentarily stunned at the girl's seriousness, feeling an odd connection in the way Sorano looked at her. In that moment she felt that Sorano understood. Really, understood. In ways that Anzu knew no one else had. The girl had seen through her mask, for Kami's sake; the one she'd been wearing for so long she'd almost forgotten what it was like to walk around without it.
Before Anzu could think to reply to Sorano's declaration, another question was being asked of her. "Anzu…are you, have you ever been, suicidal?"
She jolted, as though an electric shock had poured through her system, finding her vocal cords momentarily out of commission as she searched for an answer. Had she been suicidal? Is that what this was? She scanned her memories in rapid succession. There had been times…times when she'd wanted to just slip away. Times when she'd wanted to just run, she didn't know where, but to just be anywhere but here.
Times when, just as she went to sleep, she prayed silently that she might not wake up.
Sorano's gaze scanned Anzu's face as she thought, and her eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing look settling in them as her lips pursed. "I thought so."
Sighing, Sorano stepped lightly to the floor, her tall five ten frame settling a foot from Anzu. She grabbed the trembling girl's upper arm, pulling her gently into her embrace. Placing her chin on top of Anzu's head, she nuzzled the broken girl affectionately. "It's okay, Anzu. It's okay to cry-it's okay to hurt."
Anzu's shoulder slumped, relief coursing through her veins. What…? What was this? Why did she feel so safe? Granted, it was a small safety, extremely fragile, but it was there nonetheless.
"We're kindred spirits, Anzu," Sorano answered her unspoken question.
Anzu started, nibbling her lip. How did she do that?
Placing that thought aside for later, Anzu hesitantly hugged the other girl, forehead resting on her shoulder. Her breathing shallowed, pinpricks coming to her eyes. Her chest clenched in the strangest of ways, muscles tightening in her back and shoulders. Her throat constricted, a choked sound gurgling forth.
For a moment Anzu didn't know what was happening to her. This burst of activity seemed foreign, like a task her body had almost forgotten how to perform. It was only when the first tear slipped from her right eye, feeling so warm on her cheek before soaking into the material of Sorano's jacket that she realized she was crying.
The revelation came as a surprise to Anzu. It had been so very long since she'd let herself cry. She was used to cutting, the blood replacing the tears, that the very idea that she could still cry was momentous.
"Good," Sorano soothed, running a hand down Anzu's back comfortingly. "That's it. Let it out. It's okay, Anzu."
Anzu let herself give into the pain that swelled forth, clinging to Sorano like a lifeline. She reveled in it, basked in it, letting it grow and overwhelm her, until it overflowed and the only place it could escape was through the gasps from her lips and tears from her eyes.
Her body shook with the force of her sobs, they were so strong. She knew that the runny, clear snot associated with crying was clogging her nose and probably getting on Sorano's jacket, but the girl didn't seem to care and Anzu couldn't bring herself to pull away yet.
It took twenty minutes, but Anzu's body stopped shaking, her tears running down to tiny sniffles every few seconds instead of full blown sobs. Pulling away, Anzu wiped at her eyes with the heels of her palms, ridding herself of the stray tears that wished to slip out. When she looked up, Sorano was handing her tissues she must have procured from that bag of hers, and she took them, smiling gratefully.
After blowing her nose and cleaning herself up a bit, she looked into the mirror and winced. Her eyes were all puffy, nose a bright fire engine red, skin blotchy and covered in salty tear tracks. "Ugh, I look terrible." Even her voice sounded bad-it was hoarse and strained.
"No one looks good after a meltdown, sister," Sorano replied sympathetically, patting her back.
Vaguely, Anzu wondered how it was they'd suddenly become close enough for Sorano to call her 'sister' so familiarly, and figured it must have been when she made the decision to have a breakdown on her shoulder. Anzu almost chuckled, finding she oddly didn't mind the term of endearment from the girl she barely knew.
"…thank you," Anzu mumbled, a small blush on her cheeks.
Sorano smiled, and Anzu was bemused to note that the standoffish, cold, loner she'd always believed was Kyoko Sorano was so different in person. "It's no problem. Like I said, we're kindred spirits."
Anzu grinned slightly. After smiling falsely for so long, anything genuine felt…weird and out of place on her face.
Sorano laughed humorlessly through her nose at the attempt, shaking her head in a manner that was almost sad. "Yeah. Well, now I guess it's time we move onto the next step."
Anzu tilted her head curiously. "What are you talking about?"
Sorano gave her a devious smirk, reaching into that bag of hers and pulling out what appeared to be a leather bound black journal and a dark blue gel pen. Unceremoniously, she thrust the items into Anzu's arms.
Blinking, Anzu looked down at the items. "What am I supposed to do with these?"
"You're going to write in that from now on every time you get the urge to cut," she replied, crossing her arms. "Hopefully this way we can keep the urge to a minimum and nip this thing in the bud before it gets out of hand."
Anzu's lip was going to bleed soon if she kept chewing on it. "Why do you care so much? Why…why are you even doing this?"
Sorano's eyes glazed over, and for a moment she stared at Anzu blankly. In that moment, the girl looked so empty, so dead, that a shiver of fear shot up Anzu's spine. In the next moment, it was gone, and Sorano had that calm, knowing look back that Anzu was used to. "I'm sure that someday, I'll tell you Anzu. But for now, know this-I am now officially your best gal friend. And together, we can do this."
Anzu clucked her tongue, and outside the bathroom the bell could be heard ringing for students to head to their classes. As the two left, shouldering their bags, Anzu asked one final question. "And what is it, exactly, that we're doing?"
Sorano smirked, winking at her in assurance. "Breaking the habit, of course."
I don't know how I got this way
I'll never be alright
So I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit
I'm breaking the habit tonight
~Linkin Park
Thanks for reading! Please review, and tell me your opinion!
