Hello there! Here's my entry for Round 11 of the YGO Fanfiction Contest Take 8, and it's Seershipping- Priestess Isis x Ishizu Ishtar. Wooh for finally getting a yuri round! xD
This is a strange piece- it's short, because I'm trying to make up for the fact that usually my stories take about an hour to read, and also because of the fact I've got exams coming up and revision (as you will all probably know) is a b*tch.
Pairing(s): Seershipping, hinted angstshipping.
Warnings: GirlxGirl, mentions of schizophrenia, AU.
On with the fic! :)
"Ishizu! Ishizu! Come on, we're going to be late!"
Malik's voice rang up the stairs and Ishizu cursed under her breath as the eyeliner pencil she was clutching in her fingers slipped and left a thick black line running down her cheek. Wiping it off hastily, she studied her face in the bathroom mirror. Too much make up? Or maybe not enough- she wasn't really wearing any lipstick at all, but then again she never did so that might look like she was deliberately making an effort-
"ISHIZU!"
Taking one last, nervous glance at her face in the mirror she snatched up her bag and hurried out of the bathroom and down the stairs, calling out a "Coming, Malik!" as she went.
Rishid watched, bemused, as Ishizu dashed around the hall trying to find her keys, and Malik moaned in the background that 'they were always late' and 'why can't you ever fix your face earlier?' before Ishizu snapped at him to help her find the damn car keys.
It was the same every week, and Rishid knew by now to keep well out of it. Malik wasn't usually this surly and Ishizu never this skittish; but the weekly counselling appointments always put the pair on edge, and when they were running late (again, a weekly occurrence) Rishid discovered that the Ishtar temper was definitely a family trait they both shared.
Having finally found her keys Ishizu shoved Malik out of the door (he was now complaining 'as they were going to be so late they might as well not go!') and slammed it behind her after a quick "Dinner's in the oven, can you heat it up before we get back?" aimed in Rishid's direction.
Rishid rolled his eyes affectionately before wandering into the kitchen to fix dinner. He dearly loved his adoptive siblings, but he still wondered how their little house managed to contain two such forceful, and often furious, personalities.
It's lucky I'm here, or the neighbours would have called the police on them long ago, he thought as he eyed the 'stew' Ishizu had prepared dubiously. Or they would have starved.
The ride to the hospital was pretty much the same as usual.
As they passed each shop, drove down each street that by now they knew so well, as they gradually made it to the edges of town and began to see sign posts pointing the way to the hospital, Malik became quieter and quieter.
Ishizu couldn't help but sigh mentally as she drew up in the car park; every week for the last six months it had been like this! She would have thought Malik had gotten used to it all by now…
It wasn't that Malik didn't like his counsellor- on the contrary, they got on very well. It wasn't that he resented the fact that he had to go and see her; he was actually grateful to talk to someone about his schizophrenic disorder that had haunted him for so long.
It was just that Malik had an absolutely irreversible, deep-rooted and irrational fear of hospitals. And, unfortunately, the counsellor's office was in Domino hospital.
Malik hated it.
And Ishizu thought, as she quickly checked her make up in the wing mirror as they got out of the car, she couldn't blame him. That's why she came with him every week, for moral support.
(Or at least that's what she told herself.)
Holding out her hand to her little brother, who was eyeing the looming building with clear apprehension, she shot him a smile and said, "Come on then. We don't want to be any later than we already are."
The waiting room was probably the worst part of their weekly ritual. The plain white walls, squeaky polished floors, and the lingering smell of disinfectant all combined to make Malik even more nervous than he had been in the car.
Even though they were ten minutes late they still had to sit in the waiting room for what felt to Ishizu like hours, with Malik fidgeting and staring at his knees determinedly all the time.
It was just the same every week; the chubby receptionist filing her nails behind the desk, the occasional messages blared out across the speaker system, the harried looking psychiatric nurses walking briskly down the halls.
And then, when Malik was starting to peer around as if he was about to make a break for it:
"Hello, Malik. Would you like to come on in?"
Malik's face lit up, Ishizu blushed, and suddenly the ward seemed much more welcoming.
"Hey, Isis," Malik bounced up and walked with her into the office. Ishizu followed at a much statelier pace, with a formal "Good morning, Doctor."
Isis grinned, as she did every week, and replied, "Oh please, Ishizu. Do call me Isis."
(And as Ishizu's face heated up, she was suddenly reminded of the real reason she insisted on accompanying Malik every single week to these sessions.)
The appointment itself always went a similar way. Malik really enjoyed talking to Isis (it made a difference, Ishizu thought dryly, to the four other counsellors before her) and the pair would chat away quite happily for half an hour, Isis carefully dropping in the medical questions she needed to ask along with the other trivial gossip: "So how are you and Ryou? Going well is it? You do remember to take your medication, even when you're with him, don't you? That's good… And how is Rishid, I haven't seen him in a while-"
Ishizu sat in the corner of Isis' homely office (she did treat children after all, and she tried to make her room as friendly as possible) and watched her brother relax with a proud smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. It hadn't been easy (god only knew how hard it had been on all of them…) but her little brother was beginning to deal with this. He was finally happy.
(Every now and again Ishizu's eyes would stray from her brother's animated expression to the kind, bright eyes of his doctor, to her curling black hair, to her charming smile- and then Ishizu would glance away, a blush once more spreading across her cheeks.)
At the end of the appointment Isis would talk to Ishizu briefly about Malik's medication and his progress, while he sat to one side and pretended he didn't know they were talking about him.
The half hour session always ended with a friendly goodbye, a handshake from Ishizu and a semi-awkward wave from Malik (he still wasn't completely comfortable with people outside his family circle touching him) and a "See you next week!"
Malik, as always, would leave the room first, and Ishizu would hesitate just for a second. Isis, with a brilliant smile, would say, "You'll come with him next week, right?"
And Ishizu would always smile softly in return and nod, before her courage failed her and she fled.
Every week Malik would be waiting for her with a smirk and a glint of mischief in his eye. "You do realise that you're allowed to ask her out- it's not illegal or anything!"
Ishizu just rolled her eyes, and shoved him affectionately. "Be quiet, little brother. Lets get you home."
With one last glance back at Isis' office, Ishizu smiled. There was always next week.
Love it? Hate it? Seriously confused by it? Yep, me too. :P
I seem to write about schizophrenia quite a lot (don't ask me why! xD) but with this I wanted to have a look at the everyday 'dealing with it' rather than the more extreme things I tend to address in my other stories. Also, Malik's fear of hospitals is very much based off of my own- had some bad experiences in them recently, and I thought that might be a irrational phobia that I could draw on in this story! :D
Anyway, thanks very much for reading this strange little drabble! :)