A/N: Hey guys. I'm really sorry I've been M.I.A. I've been working at a new job and working on getting my first novel published. If you want to keep updated about the progress of my novel, visit my website. Search for From the Black by Aria Degray. You can even view teasers and subscribe to be notified any time I post a blog / update.
Anyway, moving along. This story was requested by one of my readers on Wattpad and I forgot to post it here. So here ya go! It is a Monarchshipping. I hope you enjoy. Please feed the authoress with reviews!
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN YUGIOH! I only own the plot of this story. I don't make any money off of these fanfics. They just for fun.
Warning: Yaoi. No like? No read!
Waves crash against the shore as seagulls squawk overhead. The sun inches its way over the horizon, gradually growing warmer in the process. It's still fairly early morning and the day promises to be optimal for a beach trip; warm weather with a lovely ocean breeze. If you like that kind of thing.
Me? Not so much. I'm a gamer and an artist. I prefer being indoors with my video games. I consider the outside world a necessary evil where the graphics are horrible. So why is a loner, reclusive, hermit such as me at the beach? Fair enough question. There's only one reason for me to come to the beach. The hope of running into Atem; the bronze, track god himself.
At my school, the track team rules. They are top of the pyramid. And Atem is the team captain; therefor, he is the god of Domino High School. Below the track team are the football and basketball teams, then the cheerleaders, and lastly there's everybody else. Under everybody else would be where I rank in the grand scheme of my high school's social hierarchy. Needless to say, Atem doesn't even know I exist.
Oh, I'm sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me introduce you to... well... me. My name is Yami. I'm a senior at Domino High School. My favorite class is art. I live to draw. During my spare time, I'm drawing or gaming. I started carrying around a sketch pad when I was old enough to hold one. Sure, my art back then consisted of drool splatters, but that's beside the point. I've evolved since then.
My favorite subject to draw now is Atem. He has the body of an athletic god. His gorgeous, lean muscles roll beneath his bronze-colored skin any time he moves. Don't get me started on when he flexes. Striking, crimson eyes in addition to his black, blonde, and red tri-colored hair provide him with a mysterious and exotic appearance. His clothing style mixes punk with jock in a way that just should not work, but it does! He makes it work. Ah Ra... wrap him in a trash bag and he will still look like a god.
Now you know why I ventured to the beach today. I spread out a large sheet on the sand, prop my sketch pad on my crossed legs, and place my earbuds in my ears. I glance around the beach for something to draw and settle on a sand dollar. My head bends low as I examine the item and set pencil to paper.
Distant talking and laughter draw my attention away from the sketch. While I hear a group of people approaching the beach, I can't see them yet. Setting my pencil down, I stretch and notice the sun much higher in the sky. The temperature is much warmer now as well. I glance at my watch; 10:18 am shines back at me in green, blocky numbers. I definitely need to put more sunblock on before my pale, pasty skin decides to adopt a painful red hue.
Reaching in my bag, I withdraw my sunblock. I rub the cream into my skin, ensuring it is well absorbed. I'm pale enough. The tendency of sunblock to make one look like a snowman is not needed on this body.
The group arrives at the beach, laughing and talking as they migrate to the volleyball net. To my delight and terror, Atem is among them. Today, this specimen of human perfection is sporting a white sleeveless shirt with black, red, and grey board shorts. The ensemble is complete with a black, braided piece of leather tied loosely around his wrist and a black, leather cord necklace.
The group Atem accompanies contains 12 of my fellow students; none of whom know me. But I know them. I will only introduce you to the primary group he hangs out with.
Atem's best friend is Joey; the second best member of the track team. His long legs give him a huge advantage. His shaggy blonde hair tussles with the ocean breeze as Joey bounces a volleyball between his hands.
Also with the group is Tristan A.K.A. brunet oaf as I like to call him. Tristan is the quarterback on the football team. He's tall and muscular, although not the most intelligent being in Atem's group. If you tested his IQ against the IQ of a plankton, the plankton would win.
Then there's Bakura and Marik. I'm surprised Bakura is here. You don't see him out and about much. He is gruff and ill-tempered. Bakura must be the only person in our school whose skin tone is lighter than mine. He is an albino though; silver hair and white skin... the whole shebang. He is part of the track team as well.
Marik's blonde hair and bronze skin make him look right at home on the beach. He is the epitome of a surfer boy. Marik's big thing is playing pranks on people. I tend to keep an weary eye open when he is around. Marik participates in both track and football.
The last individual I would like to introduce you to is Anzu. Brunette cheerleader who clings like duct tape to Atem. Current rumors flying about state she is his girlfriend, but I'm not sure. Evidence has not established whether the rumors or true or fake.
I bow my head and act like I haven't noticed them. They don't pay attention to me either. Thank, Ra. One of the guys turns on a stereo, placing it near the volleyball net. My eyes flicker up, and I watch the group while trying to remain inconspicuous.
Atem squats near the stereo and fiddles with the dial. Within seconds, the Beach Boys blast through the speaker. At least he has taste. Beach Boys are classic for summers spent at the beach. He stands, clapping his hands together. He points to 5 others and says something to them while pointing to one side of the volleyball net. Unfortunately, I'm a little too far away to hear him. If you've ever heard him, you would know why I say unfortunately. His voice is liquid gold. It's a velvet baritone that hits me right at the core and somewhere else...
Atem points to the other group and then to the other side of the volleyball net. The groups get positioned on either side of the net. This time, Atem is facing away from me. That's okay. I get to start at his backside for a little while. You will hear zero complaints from me about that view.
I alternate between drawing shells and watching Atem play volleyball. He has a wicked serve and a deadly spike. That other team doesn't stand a chance. They seem to be enjoying themselves even with the fact that Atem's team is going to crush them. They are keeping it light-hearted and not dragging the game into a competitive nightmare.
The teams switch sides, permitting me to stare at the face of my crush. Atem's grin widens as he holds up his hands in a time-out sign. He jogs to the side and chugs some water from a sports bottle. His fingers wrap around the hem at the bottom of his shirt and he peals the article of clothing off. His skin reflects a light sheen of sweat. My mouth runs as dry as death valley. Atem returns to his team and positions to serve. His muscles flex when he tosses the ball into the air and striking it.
I sigh and subtly get to work on sketching him. I start with the flawless bone structure of his face and move to drawing his sharp, angular eyes. I lick my lips, lightly gliding my pencil across the paper to shape his lips. I roughly sketch his spiky hair and move down to his body. I work swiftly glancing between my paper and Atem, trying to get the muscle definition just right.
I pause to watch them play, my pencil resting unforgotten in my hand. Oh! Oh! The other team is going to score! Or not! Atem dives, successfully hitting the ball back over the net in the nick of time. A small cloud of dirt rises up around him as his body hits the ground. Atem jumps up, brushing the dirt off his chest.
That must have been the winning point. The two groups join together, giving each other high-fives, hand-shakes, and 'good jobs.' My pencil finds itself between my teeth as I nibble on it.
Atem grabs a surfboard and runs out into the ocean. A wave crashes against him, reaching all the way up to his abdomen. He lays on his surfboard and paddles further out. He patiently waits until a wave of satisfactory height manifests. He angles his board as the wave rushes towards him. Atem uses his arms to paddle towards the beach, watching over his shoulder for the wave. It glides underneath him and he leaps to his feet. He finds his balance and rides the crest of the wave all the way back to the shallows.
I shake my head and pull my drool-covered pencil out of my mouth. Ick. I wipe it on the sheet and return my attention to my sketch pad. Flipping the page, I begin a new picture of Atem as he is surfing.
When I look up again, Atem nowhere to be seen. I jump up, dropping my pencil and sketch pad. Where is he? My eyes scan the beach and the ocean. I jog down to the water's edge, searching for him. What if he was knocked of and is in trouble?!
A few seconds later Atem rockets out of the wave's tunnel, hand gliding in the water next to him. My body relaxes and I breath a sigh of relief. Who was I fooling anyway. What would I do to save him? Sure, I can swim, but this is the ocean we are talking about.
Atem surfs up the side of the tunnel towards the crest and performs a flip, landing perfectly back into the wave's tunnel. Ra, he is such a show off. Part of the reason my crush on him is so large is he doesn't intentionally show off. Some people will show off what they can do just to grab attention. When he shows off, he's just doing something he loves and having fun.
Well, while I'm down here at the water, might as well get my feet wet. I walk onto the sand just barely within reach of the waves. The next wave floods onto the sand around me, engulfing my feet. The water is cool, but not cold. It is pleasant. Hmm. Maybe I will go to the beach more often. Eh. That would entail actually spending more time outside. I'm not so sure about that.
The wave recedes pulling sand with it. The sand particles tickle my feet on their way past. I feel myself sinking further into the shore as the sand underfoot is pulled out to sea. Looking down at my feet, I smile. They were completely buried in the mud. I wiggle my toes and watch them pop through. I step further into the water until most of the waves reach my thighs and some reach my stomach. I don't want to go too far out. My swimming is alright, but not the best for the ocean. My hands glide through the water as I play in the waves.
Eventually, I turn and head towards my sheet. I stop dead in my tracks. Malik and Bakura are hovering over my sheet, flipping through... I gulp... my sketchbook. Oh Ra! Open the world and drag me down into it. I don't want to face them. They notice me coming back and share a glance; their lips splitting into smirks that I'm not fond of. Marik and Bakura approach me, my sketchbook in Marik's hands. I swallow thickly.
"Hey guys," I mutter.
"Hi," Marik nods at me with a smirk. Bakura's smirk turns into a glare, and I shudder despite the sun's warmth.
"Uh," genius, Yami. Pure win right there. Say something. Anything! "Uh..." Come on, Yami! Something more than that!
Marik arches an eyebrow and goes to open my sketchbook. I panic and frantically reach for it. Marik lifts it out of my reach. I curse my petiteness. All right. I'm not horribly short, but I am on the petite side, and compared to Marik, I am a midget.
"Do you want me to sketch you anything? I can draw you a badass demon or something," I offer, hoping Marik will take the bate and leave me alone.
Marik shares another look with Bakura before he speaks, "So you like our man, Atem, huh?"
Heat radiates from my body. I'm positive every inch of me is blushing, "No... no. I just like to draw people."
"Really? So Atem isn't good enough for you to draw?" Bakura probes. Well shit. What do I say to that?
"Yes. I mean no. Yes.. Ugh. I just like to draw him. I'm sorry. If it bothers him, I will stop," I stutter, holding out my hand in request for the book.
"You want the book?" Marik shakes it, still out of my reach.
I roll my eyes, "Yes."
"Go get it!" Marik throws it into the ocean. I felt my heart sink with the book. Of course, I can get another one. But, my heart goes into each drawing I do even if it is a rough sketch. I glance down at my feet, not wanting to face Marik and Bakura. Big mistake.
My body is hoisted up. Oh Ra. The two are laughing maniacally as they carry me further out into the ocean. My blood runs cold and I squirm; their grip only tightens on me.
"Put me down, please!" I beg.
I hear Atem's booming voice behind us, "No! Guys the curr..."
Atem's voice fades as the ocean swallows me whole. They threw me into the ocean! I kick and my head breaks the surface. I don't have enough time to catch my breath before a wave slams against me, knocking me backwards. My body twists and turns. My feet and arms stretch out, reaching for the surface. I can't find it. I don't even know which direction I'm facing. I feel the woosh of another wave roll over me. My body rolls and my lungs scream. I can't breath. Terror pulses in my veins, spreading as quickly as my heart is beating. My mouth gasps open out of reflex and I gulp down salt-water instead of air. My body trembles with convulsions and my vision clouds over, eventually going black.
\/\/\/
Liquid climbs up my throat and sputters out of my mouth. My eyes fly open and can only see light and shadows initially. There's a hand on my shoulder rolling me over to my side. Salty ocean water spills from my lips as another hand pounds on my back. I groan, resting my head against the moist, warm sand.
"It's okay. You'll be okay."
I freeze. That voice. It's Atem. I slowly look up to see him sitting on his knees next to me. It's his hand on my shoulder and his other hand is rubbing my back. Water droplets fall from his hair and slide down his face while other droplets bead along his torso.
"What," I croak. After coughing up more water, I try again, "What happened?"
"Malik and Bakura threw you in. The rip tide grabbed you and dragged you under," Atem explains.
"Did you go in after me?" I ask as he helps me into a seated position. He nods. "Thank you."
"I'm really sorry about what they did. That was inexcusable," he shakes his head; disgust displaying on his face.
"I probably deserved it," I mutter under my breath.
"What?" his eyes sharpen pinning me beneath their intense gaze. Ra... he heard me didn't he?
"I probably deserved it," I comment a little louder.
"Why would you say that?" his voice stern now.
"I was... drawing you while you weren't looking," I avoid his face, finding the sand under my hand to be the most fascinating thing on the planet.
"That's no reason to do what they did. You didn't deserve that," his hand on my shoulder tightens. I can't believe his hand is still there.
"But I was watching you. I feel like a stalker," I chance a look at him.
His face softens, "I'm not that interesting."
"You are to me," I whisper before adding, "and to the rest of the student body."
"I don't know why. I'm just a person," He shrugs, his dazzling smile putting the sun to shame. He stands and hold his hand out to me. I accept it and he pulls me up.
"Thanks," I slide my hands down my chest, ridding my body of some sand. I relent. I have sand everywhere. I need a shower later.
"So..." he started.
I tilt my head, "So..."
"You like to draw me?" He asks with... is that a blush? I nod and head for my sheet. He jogs after me, "Are you any good?"
"Not really. Drawing is just a hobby," I fold up my sheet.
"Let me be the judge of that. If I get you another sketch pad, will you draw me again?" He picks up the other side of the sheet and helps me fold it.
"If you want. Don't you have other friends to spend time with though?" I inquire, searching the beach for his friends and not seeing them.
Atem waves a hand, "Nah. I'm not impressed by what went down today. I want to get to know you."
I drop my beach bag, "You do?"
He picks it up and drapes it over his shoulder, "I do. Come on. We have a sketchbook to buy."
\/\/\/
A little over an hour later, I sit in my room with my new sketchpad and... Atem. He stretches out over my bed, resting his head in his palm and giving me a sly look.
"Draw me like one of your French girls," he cooes. I drop my pencil, eraser, sketchbook, and my jaw. He laughs and stoops to pick up the items. "I'm kidding! How would you like me to pose?"
I take several seconds to compose myself and regain control of my body, twirling my pencil in between my fingers, "I want you comfortable and doing something you enjoy doing. Just ignore me. I'm not even here."
Atem tilts his head and glances around my room. He reaches for a horror book resting on my night stand and cracks it open. Leaning against my pillow, he settles into a comfortable position and reads. The track god is reading. Honestly, this really shouldn't surprise me. He has a 3.8 GPA; obviously he can read. I expected him to want to do something else. Play with a ball, excercise, anything except read.
I nibble on my lip and get to work. My eyes follow the lines and curves of his body, taking note of the way his shirt has crumpled, revealing a sliver of tan skin beneath. I work in the details of his eyelashes and his hands; watching his right hand flip the page on occasion.
Before I realized it, the sun set and I am squinting at the paper, trying to add the last details. The room is flooded with light. I blink, shielding my eyes. When they adjusted, I see Atem by the light switch.
"Thought you could use some more light," he walks back over to the bed where the book rests.
I yawn, "I'm done anyway."
"Can I see?" he stands before me eagerly. I bite my lip and flip the sketch pad. Ra, he is going to hate it. A silence thicker than mud saturates my room.
"Do you like it?" I inquire, afraid of the response. He still doesn't answer. I shift my sketchpad to see around it. Atem is standing with his mouth open and his eyes scanning my sketch. "Is it that bad?"
He shakes his head and closes his mouth, "Bad? You are amazing. When you become famous, don't forget me."
I choke back a laugh, "I didn't know you were a comedian." I am the only one laughing. He stares at me with a solemn expression.
"That wasn't meant as a joke. You are a talented and phenomenal artist," he comments. "It's an honor to be drawn by you." He kneels in front of me, "Never stop drawing."
He leans into me, closing the small distance between us. His lips brushed mine. My heart skips a beat and my face lights up like New Years Eve. Unbelievable. He's a track god, a kind person, and a killer kisser. He is perfect.
Atem grips the back of my neck and rests his forehead against mine, "You can draw me any time as long as you will go out with me."
I'm dreaming. Totally dreaming. Right?
The warmth from his hand against the back of my neck, the gentle tickle of his breath on my face, and the scent of the ocean mingling with his natural musky aroma convince me otherwise. This is real.
I gulp, "Okay. I'll go out with you."