Author's Notes: This is a work-in-progress. I love this story, I've had it working in my mind for a long time and I just got around to writing it. There are certain parts that I have written down and certain parts I need to fill in. I really hope you all enjoy this, because I really loved writing it. Also, I apologize for the first chapter being fairly short -- the others will be longer.
The story includes yaoi (no lemons, though) which is a boy/boy relationship. If you don't like that kind of thing, then don't read it. Also implications of physical abuse.
The entire story is written in Seto's POV.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yugioh or it's characters, unfortunately.
We met in school, years ago.
No, I take that back.
We didn't meet each other. We thought we met each other. We thought we knew each other when in reality, we didn't. We knew each other by our physical features. We knew each other by our rock-hard exteriors that we refused to let anyone break. We exchanged harsh words and dirty looks, calling ourselves enemies. How can you be someone's enemy when you hardly know them? It was a mistake the both of us made.
No, we didn't really meet until last summer. July 17th. Do you remember that night? I do. I remember everything down to the smallest detail. Who was there, what you were wearing... Even what your hair smelled like. It was beautiful.
It had rained that day. One of those humid summer rains that's supposed to cool everything off, but doesn't.
After the rain had stopped, Mokuba wanted to go outside. He complained that he'd been cooped up in the house all day. He wanted to take a walk through the park, so I took him. I had no idea how dramatically my life would change when I agreed to walk through the park with my younger brother. It seems like such a harmless little event.
How 'harmless' it turned out to be.
Mokuba got distracted halfway to the park. He saw one of his friends from school and wanted to spend the night at his house. I let him go with his friend, feeling oddly disappointed. Funny, I don't remember the kid's name, but I remember that he was wearing blue shorts and a white shirt with the sleeves cut off. He was a weird-looking kid, he had jet-black hair sticking out every which way, almost like Mokuba's but much messier.
After Mokuba left, I wanted to go back home. I had no desire to walk through the park by myself. I didn't even want to go with Mokuba. For some reason, I continued going.
The reason? I call it fate. If I'd turned around, I wouldn't have met you.
You know - really met you.
By the time I reached the park, it had started to rain again. It wasn't storming, just raining, and I didn't mind. I watched the people around me frantically pack up their things and run for cover in their cars. I kept walking. A little rain never hurt anyone.
I reached the pavilion, soaking wet. My black t-shirt clung to my body, and my hair was flattened and dripping wet, hanging limp over my eyes.
I wasn't depressed or anything, in fact, the rain was somewhat invigorating. I sat down on one of the benches, stretched my legs out, and relaxed.
Then I saw something. I noticed it out of the corner of my eye - something curled up, wet, on the bench next to me.
It was you.
To be continued -