A/N: Here is my first attempt at fanfiction and well, I'll let you be the judge on how good this story is. Now if you don't realize this story is Yaoi and that's not your piece of cake, than I suggest you hit the back button as quickly as possible because there will be lots of that. Now, if you can tolerate death and blood and whatever else assoicates with horror than welcome. Don't worry, the horror will not overshadow the romance of this story, just twist it a bit to something of my creation. So enjoy the product of my weird imagination.
Chapter warning: Death, instances of blood, and violence.
Splashes Against the Canvas
Every color represent's a deadly sin…
Sharp eyes that resembled the blood-red color of roses stared without emotion at the blank canvas that stood out heavily in the lavishly, artistic décor of the spacious room, completely and utterly white in contrast to the darker colors of the room. And it was for that sole reason alone Yami Atemu, the possessor of such hypnotic, scarlet eyes, hated it, and detested the filthy thing with a passion. There was no beauty or extravagance to it for it was blank, and he, a famous artist, found such a thing despicable. And yet, he despised himself more for he was responsible for the canvas ugliness because it was his job as a painter to create an image out of nothing. To create a mind-blowing conflagration of colors that would further enhance his reputation as a highly-esteemed artist. But how was he to create art without inspiration? That would be comparable to building a ship without a proper outline, bound to fall apart in less than minutes. Usually, his form of inspiration would come from the wonderful euphoric feeling of torturing any unlucky soul unfortunate enough to become a victim to his unexplainable desire to kill and paint with the beautiful red liquid that spilled profusely out of dead veins. Yes, he was a murderer, and a professional one at that. No one would ever suspect someone as generous and charming to be responsible for the gruesome deaths that began to become a little to frequent in the busy city of Domino. No one would dare suspect him to be the sadistic killer that painted on an easel at night with the blood of the ones he killed, partly the reason why his art was so ingenious and beautiful. Not a soul had ever thought about using the blood of humans instead of red paint to mix in with the other colors, giving it that "lively" feeling that most people praised him for. But now, as he sat on his satin-black velvet couch in nothing but a dark red robe with black linen, sipping aimlessly at a glass of expensive wine, did the artist feel that killing people wasn't enough anymore. He needed more.
But what could possible serve as the almost impossible task of being his inspiration?
Cursing profoundly, the artist left his wine glass on a polished, brown oak table as he exited the room in favor of one of the many numerous rooms in his mansion, namely his room to be exact, walking rapidly in his frustrated state. He could feel it rising, the bloodlust that reacted violently to his unpredictable mood-swings, the need to paint in blood, to carve beautiful pictures into paling skin, to hear muffled sounds of agony and suffering that acted as his personal sonata. No matter if he no longer drew inspiration from killing, Yami still found a sick enjoyment in it or a much sought after distraction from keeping up his guise as a handsome, charming artist that enjoyed the various art and had highly-respectable morals. Too bad his morals were the one of a killer and the various arts he enjoyed were nothing but the uncountable methods of torture. A bunch of incompetent fools they were; believing all his lies he fed his fans and admirers daily, like a pack of mindless dogs that would listen to whatever their master said as long as they got a small morsel of food. If it weren't for self-preservation and a perfected control of how to act during any situation, Yami would have laughed harshly in their faces and told them that the art they adored so fervently was painted and created from the blood of humans, feeling an immense amount of gratification at what he knew would be the expressions of horrified people. Really, sometimes the annoyance of preserving this guise was enough to make him do just that.
Finally making it to his personal chambers, Yami couldn't help but smile contently at the dark décor of his room which was fashioned by him himself. The floor was carpeted by a lush black rug that wasn't even remotely flawed; the bed was a four poster king-size bed with dark drapes hanging from the canopy blanketed by wine-colored sheets and dozens of goose feather stuffed pillows; a fireplace at the farthest end of the room surrounded by some bookshelves and dark throne like chairs; a balcony that allowed him an expansive view of his property; and finally a door that led to his private bathroom that was as grand as his bedroom. All and all, the room was a beautiful room if not slightly intimidating with its gothic demeanor and dark-colored theme which of course was Yami's style. He chuckled quietly for no stated purpose and proceeded to walk into his walk-in closet to search for a fitting outfit, opting for some silky, name-brand, black slacks with a matching black shirt, finishing the look with a black vest that was perfect for summer nights. It was perfect for blending in the nights, but his hair, which was an oddity within itself, posed a problem. His hair featured multiple layers, including long, blond crooked, pointy locks for his fringe, some of them jutting upward stiffly. The rest was in the shape of six large spikes colored black with magenta rims all along the edges. It really was an attention-puller; not that it mattered of course because it was never a variable during his other nightly endeavors.
As quietly as a spectator, Yami exited his house excitedly, welcoming the nightly air and the adrenaline that was already beginning to awaken in preparation for the hunt that was going to take place, mindlessly patting the sliver dagger that had tasted the flesh and blood of others many a time. He didn't bother with the task of taking one of his vehicles for it would be too much of a hassle and instead opted to walk leisurely out of the rich portion of town in which he lived in favor of the darker and more sinister streets that Domino city tried its best to hide; where the illegal clubs prospered at and the shameless houses for prostitution that contained such illicit acts. However, Yami found no pleasure in killing in a place where crimes can go unaccounted for and so he often lured his victims with his irresistible looks to a more decent sector of town, where the middle-classed lived. This was where he got his true pleasure from as he watched the next day on the news how a normal family found a mutilated corpse in their bushes or at their doorstep, eyes open wide in horror for eternity. Sick and twisted as he maybe, Yami got his high off such things and previously his inspiration, but tonight, all he wanted was to satisfy his diet for blood. Ah yes. He certainly did derive pleasure from tasting the metallic yet tangy liquid known as blood. It was simply extraordinary.
Laughing quietly at what was to come, Yami soon arrived at his destination, a rather shady spot that was the opposite than what it appeared to be on the inside; a club where if you didn't watch your step you would find yourself sexually harassed and alcohol intoxicated in minutes. It was his kind of place, a place where he didn't exist as Yami Atemu a world-famous artist, but a nameless stranger among other nameless figures with a hidden agenda. Smirking lightly, albeit if not alluringly, Yami made his way to the front entrance that was guarded by a young man that looked to be just bored, but in actuality served as the one who allowed you entrance. He allowed the boy an innocent smile and brought his way in with substantial amount of cash that had the boy's grey eyes bulging in his eye sockets, even going out of his way to open the door for Yami because his generous tribute that was way over the entrance fee. Really, in Yami's crimson eyes, money was nothing but a tool, a bargaining chip, something use to bribe greedy people-or what he saw as scum to getting what he wanted. This person that allowed him entrance for what he saw as chump change was not excluded from this.
The first thing that greeted Yami was the scent of alcohol, perspiration, and the faint tinge of sex, easily disgusting him, than the sight of sweaty people dancing sensually with each other along with the blaring, controlling tempo of the music. It was quite a big place with a bar a good distance away from the dance floor and tables and couches for people to lounge at, which was already occupied by humans either drinking or making out. If it wasn't for his bloodlust, Yami would have left in disgust by now, but instead just maneuvered through a few crowds, seeking the upper levels where he would have a better view of the club to seek out his victim. It would be easy really. With a few quick, alluring smiles and chance to gaze into his hypnotizing scarlet eyes, he would have someone head over heels in love with him, male or female, just eager to please him and try to impress them with their undesirable bodies. But Yami had class; he would seduce someone decent and not as repulsive as the other occupants of the club.
Now who to choose out of the writhing mass of humans down below…
For approximately twenty minutes, Yami leaned on a rail gazing bored at the dancing people below, shooting down curious, lustful people that gazed his way with an emotionless look from his detached eyes, scaring them away immediately. Not once during the twenty minutes elapse of time did anyone catch his eye, no matter how hard he just wanted to pick a random person and kill them already. But the artist in him refused to settle on anyone who didn't possess any type of beauty, outward or inward for he could judge the beauty of one's soul, be it rotten or pure. And nowadays, pure souls were hard to find in adults but more common in children. Yami wasn't looking for a child. Children were easy to snatch for their innocent ignorance, too easy to kill because their resistance wasn't in the least challenging. Sure their screams of terror were delicious to the ears but Yami gained no fun in killing a weakling and thus preferred young adults for they were in their prime, just like him, a worthy challenge. And it was for this very reason that Yami was about to pick a random person for his appetite before he caught sight of someone from the corner of his eye, a leather clad figure that that sat in solitude at the bar, standing out slightly for two reasons. One reason was for the sole purpose that his hair could be the exact replica of his except that his was just slightly softer looking-silky even. The second reason was he looked a little too young to be here, but even Yami could see that wasn't the case. Back turned or not, Yami could still fill an air of maturity colliding perfectly with a pure innocence that attracted attention, certainly his; Looks like he had found his prey.
Not to mention, Yami loved to play with his food.
Stealthily, the artist left the upper level to get a closer look at his chosen prey, still maintaining a good distance, but enough that it provided a perfect view of this teenager, shocked and inwardly relishing in just how beautiful the other was. That face of his, so angelic and perfect-elfin even, was set in a perpetual frown as he shifted the contents of his glass aimlessly, obviously in deep thought. But what really entranced Yami was the sheer exquisiteness of the amethyst jewels the teen had for eyes, their surface like a visible gateway to his soul and emotions, so mesmerizing that you could gaze at them forever. And in those alluring eyes, Yami could see that pure soul that radiated so brightly but was protected in its bodily casing that could only reflect half of its elegance. The artist could actually feel his bloodlust shifting from its initial desire for death and blood to something else, a desire for a game, a need. By all means, Yami loved games and was a master of them and was eager to play any game involving this teenager that so effortlessly grabbed his interest. Now all there was to do was to set the board…
And let the games begin.
-/--/--/--/--/--/--
Yugi Muto, a lover of all games, and local resident of Domino High didn't expect to end up wondering the streets at night, nonetheless sitting at an empty bar-save for the bar-tender- serving him glasses of refreshing water. At this hour at the night, he was supposed to be safe and sound at his grandfather's game shop and their home, snug in his bed sleeping away his problems until the next day. But here he was, amongst the sleaziest or immoral people who had more than once made their interest for him known which was quickly fended off by a "no thank you", obviously turned off by his polite manner of speech. Yugi had the sneaking suspicion that his taste in clothing had given them the wrong or rather inappropriate impression. He often was reprimanded by his friends that his taste in clothing would draw attention just as badly as his resplendent, natural hair. If it wasn't for his little problem, the memory would have brought a small smile to his face. But all he could do now was sigh in depression and wallow in his misery. An observer would call him a goth for all the strange amount of sighs he been releasing and combined with his unusual appearance, but he wasn't. Honestly, if a perceptive person was to observe him, they would see in fact a depressed teenager who looked to be troubled by the emotion called love, which is if the person was an over-analyzing person with nothing better to do.
Yes. Yugi Muto was in love or what he thought was love or something akin to it.
Usually, when one person was in love, they were overcome by a euphoric bliss, prone to sighing, and had a dreamy and helpless look in half-lidded eyes. Yugi was experiencing none of these except for the sighing and it wasn't helping. He didn't know what he was experiencing except that it wasn't pleasant or unpleasant, just different. And the cause of all this confusion was none other than girl, one of his best-friends that were aspiring to be a dancer. Anzu Mazaki was here name and she was a rather pretty girl, strong-willed, supportive, and very kind-hearted. And sadly, Yugi knew she felt nothing but friendship for him, which had led him from leaving Jonouchi's-another close friend- house in what he believed to be heartbreak upon hearing her talk enthusiastically about being in love with someone. He was just so confused right now and the blaring music in the background was doing nothing to help him. More than anything, it was beginning to give him a migraine. Maybe it was for the better if he set for home and quell the heart attack his grandpa was having over his abnormal lateness.
"Do you mind if take a seat here?" A velvety, sensuous voice requested softly, startling Yugi out of his thoughts as he looked towards where the voice came from, his throat drying up at the sight.
Yugi really was unsure where his sexual preferences stood at that moment upon the sight of looking at the exotic, handsome man standing before him in clothes that did nothing but accentuate his already attractive appearance. His skin was nicely tanned and smooth, kissed by the sun actually, with the body and lithe muscles of a dancer, his movements gracefully and regal like royalty, like a king almost. Those eyes of his, those blood-red irises, were just so alluring and mystifying the way they gazed back him, completely unreadable. And let's not forget the strange detail that his chosen hair style was very similar to his.
"Not at all…," he replied nervously, almost unable to respond under the intense gaze of the other that felt so dominating and powerful. His very aura was commanding.
The other graced him with a grateful smile which looked so seductive in Yugi's vision, or what his mind chose to perceive, as he took a seat, waving a hand of dismissal towards the bar-tender who almost jumped out of his skin to serve the noble looking man. Apparently, this man had eyes only for Yugi because he didn't even look at the bar-tender when dismissing the anxious person, inwardly making the young teenager just a little nervous. Obviously, the guy wanted something from him if he had bothered with starting a conversion with a commoner like him.
"Forgive me if I'm intruding in personal affairs but I couldn't help but wonder why one such as you is in a place like this?" The guy most have been some type of noble because of his refined manner of speech, but something inside Yugi told him that this was not the case.
"No it's ok," he assured, meeting that scarlet gaze head on. "I just came here because I…well I'm not sure actually. I was just thinking and I ended up here." He didn't even notice when he started to fidget with the chain attached to his belt loop.
Amusement, or what Yugi could interpret, came into smoldering eyes as he chuckled whimsically, observing him with a frightening but sensual coolness that had Yugi's heart beating slighter faster, the music nothing but a soft buzz in his ear now compared to his own frantic breathing. It was like he was being put under a spell of some kind, one that was so silent and lulling that you wouldn't know that you where under it until it made itself known. And then, the man spoke, ever so quietly but still so much more audible in Yugi's ears. "This is rather a distracting place for one to retreat into their thoughts, don't you think?" Silence for a long second before he spoke again with a tinge of mystery laced in his voice, "But who am I to judge?" A smirk. "My name is Yami, may I have yours?"
'Yami,' Yugi thought with wonder, pondering its uniqueness before offering his own name in response, a little shy, but eager. "My name is Yugi. Nice to meet you Yami," he paused as he felt like he heard the name before, in a memory of sorts. He felt like as if he heard the name somewhere but where from? "Are you someone famous Mr. Yami? Your name is awfully familiar…" Yugi trailed off in his wonder, unaware of the shifty, if not dangerous gaze he was receiving from the handsome man; the look of someone who was very fond of acting on impulse.
"I assure you that I'm no one of importance," his usual, velvet baritone voice seemed to drop down an octave before he spoke again, "Do you have the time?"
The inquiry was enough to lure the thinking teenager out of his thoughts as he looked at his sliver watch, gasped cutely, and looked at Yami with apologetic, amethyst eyes. "Its midnight and I really need to get home right now. It was nice meeting you." With that rushed response, Yugi muttered another apology under his breath, excused himself, and was maneuvering through the still dancing bodies around him, heading for the exit. He was so concentrated on getting home that he didn't realize that Yami got up after him and followed at a much more calm, predatory pace, and crimson irises laughing internal at the beginning of this beautiful game. And Yugi would never realize that he already made the first mistake leading to horrible misfortunes in the oncoming future, all because he talked to a person that he believed to be charming when in reality he was a professional killer under the guise of a world-famous artist.
Yugi had initiated the first move of the game.
-/--/--/--/--/--/--/-
Yami couldn't control the excitement coursing through his veins at the start of this game, not even the whispers and shouts thrumming in his ears from the dancers enough to distract him from his goal. It was just so easy to intrigue the younger boy with his mysterious persona, but it was a lot more difficult to seduce the trust he was trying to work out of the boy. He could see that just his mere voice was enough to make the other shiver with passionate emotions, but that wasn't exactly what he was trying achieve, not at the moment. He wanted the boy's trust, even a slither of it would do, enough to get some personal information. But even if the boy was slightly hypnotized already, his secrets were cautiously guarded and protected by that politeness and adorable innocence. All that meant was things were going to become much more challenging and would have to resort to following this interesting teenager named Yugi. He was just so entrancing and the way he looked all nervous in his presence, simply adorable. This was going to be exciting and he was going to prolong this as long as he possible could. It was quite rare for anything to attain his interest nowadays, but Yugi did it in one small encounter.
Now where was his little prey?
The artist exited the building and quickly scanned his surroundings, making a sound of satisfaction as he saw his prey walking hastily on the other side of the street, obviously eager to get home, and completely unaware that he had a follower. And he would never know for Yami was an expert at this portion of the hunt and it was the most entertaining, well, on par with the actual killing. Using the nights blanket to cloak him, Yami began to stalk the teenager inconspicuously, keeping a good distance away but enough that he was still in his vision. An eerie silence settled in the atmosphere, fitting the abandoned streets as if something horrible was about to take place, a silence that was perfect for Yami. These were the atmosphere's he thrived in, his element. Even his body began to react erratically to this, heart quickening in a consuming excitement, fingers grabbing twitchingly at the dagger sealed in his pocket, and crimson eyes focused nothing on the prey. Not yet. He wasn't going to kill the sweet boy yet, not until the game ended and his interest diminished, not until his bloodlust was satisfied.
Patience was not one of Yami's strong points.
To his almost snapping patience, Yami was relieved to say that Yugi had arrived at his home, a game shop combined with a house that possessed such a homely air. So, Yugi adored game as well? Even better for the artist who watched with impatience at the warming conversation taking place at the entrance to the shop between an aging old man and Yugi, the younger obviously trying to soothe the man's fears about his lateness. Apparently, Yugi wasn't one to stay out at night and pursue its pleasures like he had assumed; an obstacle that was to try and thwart Yami for he acted best during night; another challenge to make this game more interesting. Chuckling darkly, Yami watched as they retreated into the house, marveling at how quickly Yugi journeyed to his room for he could see a room light turn on, and then just as quickly as it came on, turned off.
Yami had the green-light.
Flexing his dagger between his nimble fingers, the artist walked to the door with all the quietness and grace of a feline, easily picked the door's lock with his dagger, and walked in. Bypassing all the games for sell, Yami stole through the house portion of the building until he found some stairs, smirking casually as he began his trek to his prey's room. If the soft breathing coming from the first door wasn't indication enough, Yami could see the poster of what appeared to be the teen's favorite band stapled right in front of the door, all the requirements to rightly assume this was Yugi's room. The artist almost outwardly sighed at how easy this was, at least expecting them to have locked their personal room doors. Didn't they have any idea that there was a killer stalking the nights, or did that not bother them? It was quite foolish on their part but Yami wasn't exactly complaining seeing as it made this all the more easier.
Entering the room quietly, Yami noted the room was decorated simply except with a few personal touches here and there, not drawing his interest like the slumbering, beautiful form in front of him, pale, milky skin illuminated by the moon's eerie yet awe-inspiring light. God, he was just so beautiful in Yami's crimson eyes that he felt the dagger slacken slightly in his grip, unable to stop himself from inching closer to admire the beauty in front of him. What would it be like to paint this angelic being onto the blankness of the canvas that haunted one of his living rooms? It would be…perfect. He could imagine Yugi posed flawlessly on his bed while he began to paint the boy on his easel, using the blood of others to give it a realistic beauty, just like the one in front of him. And then Yami had another spontaneous idea, one that made him inwardly purr in gratification and pleasure. Yugi could be his muse, his source of inspiration, and perhaps the only person he wouldn't kill. He could stay with him forever in his mansion and inspire him to create more magnificent artworks, so much better than the one he's been releasing to be put in art galleries and be possessed by art collectors. And maybe, Yugi could also be his little lover, his to please, his to own, and his to break. Everything would be so perfect and perhaps his life would finally hold some meaning towards him. Now where to begin…
Crimson eyes glowed as an idea struck him; Yami sighted a piece of blank paper that was so conveniently placed on a desk, taking a quill out of his pocket-a favorite of his-to write with. Now he needed some type of ink, but Yami realized he would need something better than ordinary ink to impress his little muse. And what better to use than one's own blood? With that in mind, Yami used his keen dagger to cut a little wound on his arm, gratifying in the arrival of pure red liquid that slithered down his arm, only to be caught by the sharp edge of his quill. Quickly and hushed, the artist began to write in bloody letters in a silky, cursive font that would cause one to admonish their own handwriting for not even be relatively good as his, smiling slightly when he finished. Yugi would see it in the morning which meant it was time for him to go. But a nagging feeling told him he needed some type of parting gift, something that would literally shock the other out of his skin.
He had just the gift in mind.
-/--/--/--/--/--/--/-
Ring!
An adorable grunt of protest left soft lips as sleep-filled amethyst orbs blinked into awareness, searching exasperatedly for the disruption that disturbed his sleep, becoming angrier upon realizing that it was none other than his cell-phone telling him oh-so-dutifully that someone was trying to reach him at some ungodly hour. His eyes strayed curiously towards his alarm clock that hadn't even rung yet to find that it was 7:00 in the morning, further vexing him because he usually didn't wake till 8:00. But being the natural polite person he was, Yugi couldn't bring himself to answer the phone with anger lacing his tone, but instead elected for a weary, albeit impatient tenor, especially since it was Malik, a very close friend of his. Beside's, it was really not the Egyptian native to call him so early.
"May I ask why you decided to call me at this hour? It is really unlike you," greeted Yugi across the phone in good-humor, still a little sore from his one hour sleep deprivation, but genuinely curious and a tinge bit concerned why he called.
"-You're not up yet?!-" The other sounded ludicrous and very concerned.
"No, it's seven, on a Saturday. Why?" Never had Yugi ever hear his friend lose that calm tenor always found in his collected voice, meaning something was indeed wrong.
On the other line, Yugi could hear what appeared to be a cross between a groan and a sigh before Malik spoke, voice shaken. "-Yugi look outside and don't scream.-"
Feeling really alarmed, Yugi hesitantly advanced to his window and peered through the glass frame, his brain uncomprehending at the scene going on in front of him. Blood…everywhere, was staining the front door to game shop, on the steps where something unmoving was blanketed by a white sheet, just everywhere. He could see news reporters and a terrified crowd of people being held back by police trying to create some type of control in this madness, them to attempting trying not to hide the disgust from showing on their stoic faces while some others investigated the premises of the new crime scene, his front lawn. And through it all, Yugi could make out the shape of his pale looking grandpa standing unstable near the door, holding his stomach as he was being interrogated quietly by an investigator. Yugi's brain just couldn't fathom why there was just so much blood everywhere on their usually clean property, the one his grandfather had swept the other morning, smeared by random puddles of the horrible liquid. Why was this happening? Who had died? Why was everything so red? It was as if someone threw buckets of red everywhere there was to throw. The poor teenager just couldn't take the sight any longer and recoiled away from the window if it was poisonous, feeling tears of dread and horror escape his eyes while he rocked back and forth. Through his crying, Yugi could hear Malik trying to comfort him but he too couldn't hide own uncertainty and fear at the prospect of murder being committed right at his friends door step.
It was truly a cause for fear.
"-Hey Yugi, are you okay?-" Malik eventually asked, so quiet and disturbed by what was going on. "-You know…you can drop over at my place for awhile.-"
The traumatized teen did nothing but intake a sharp breath of air before wiping his tears, calming but still visibly shaken, now fully able to hear the commotion going outside, as if amplified by his sudden discovery of it. "Thank you, but I prefer to be alone…just for the moment."
"-No problem,-" Malik spoke understandingly, but still more than happy to help his friend. "-If you need anything, just call.-" The phone-line disconnected with those words, leaving Yugi with his troubled thoughts, starting to regret not accepting the invitation that was given to him.
So much red…so much blood…
Trembling arms wrapped self-protectively around its shaking body as beautiful amethyst orbs formed a fresh batch of tears that created trails of wetness down baby-soft skin, a face tight with pain, and a sympathetic heart clenching in agony for the person that died horribly on his doorsteps, the owner of all that ceaseless amounts of red. Never had he seen so much of it and that unnerved him slightly, making him ask himself why was this happening? Why did that person have to die? He sniffled and slipped out of bed weakly to ease his way slowly out of his room to comfort his grandpa, only to pause on glimpsing something red. Curiously and already feeling sick again or perhaps more sick sense the feeling never left, Yugi walked to his desk and was met with a letter that was definitely not there yesterday written in cursive, red ink. But never had he seen red ink before, especially one that looked so lively and warm, giving it a human feel. Despite how human it felt, Yugi felt a wrongness exuding sickeningly off it, like this ink was something very horrible. And then with groan of horror, Yugi realized with a sickening dread that it was blood that supplied this once blank paper with words, that it was blood that give it such a "lively" wrong feeling. Someone had written in blood, obviously a person that was very disturbed and wrong in the mind. It was only with a desire to know what information that paper possessed that compelled him to read the letter, and the frightening fact that it was addressed to him, his name written in bloody letters.
Dear Yugi,
It has come to pass that I no longer possess any form of inspiration for these last few weeks and it is simply intolerable. As one who enjoys the arts, having not a source of inspiration is like losing the will to live and it is most unbearable. However, I found a new inspiration in the form of you and you cannot even fathom how delighted I am. As a thank you, I have left a gift at your very doorstep; a gift that I trust will please you indefinitely. I've dedicated it to you, my little inspiration, if you look closely enough. I look forward to drawing more inspiration from you Yugi, and then perhaps, preferable soon, you will come to accept me and appreciate my efforts. And then we can be together. Till future times, my little inspiration, and let our game began…
From your secret admirer
Mortification and terror was the first thing Yugi felt at finishing the letter, falling to his knees as his trembling fingers began to lose grip over the flimsy paper before mindlessly rushing back to the window to find what he sought. People where still crowding around his house but they were moved aside slightly to make way for the ambulance that arrived, ready to transport the mutilated but thankfully covered body to the hospital. In different circumstances, Yugi often prided himself in having rather keen eyesight but now almost hated himself for it because he found what he was looking for, inscribed perfectly but rather painfully on the lifeless flesh of the deceased person's hanging arm in moderate size letters. Other people, namely the investigators would not have understand the message's meaning, but Yugi understood it thoroughly, fighting the urge to retch over on the floor, amethyst eyes glassy through never-ending tears. Engraved in dead flesh where those horrifying words:
For you, my inspiration…
-/--/--/--/--/--/--/-
Yami honestly wanted to laugh his head off at this exact moment as he watched with admiration and satisfaction in crimson depths at the news channel he was watching, explaining while equally trying to comfort viewers about the tragedy that occurred over his work, his gift to Yugi. He was glad that others appreciated his work, but he was really concerned about his little inspiration's opinion on the matter seeing as he went through all this effort for him. Did he notice the encrypted message on his victim's skin? Not once did he see the angelic face on television, just the grandfather who struggled to answer some questions regarding the matter. Honestly, this was simply amusing. If it weren't for one of his butler's occupying the room, unmistakably mortified by another killing taking place, Yami would have been in hysterics. He had to keep up an image as an artist who was intensely horrified by these occurrences if didn't want to install suspicion.
"Domino city has never experienced so much death, and the citizens are about to break in to mass hysteria. The mayor is beginning to talk of a curfew to be issued out to preserve the well-beings of the occupants of Domino city," reported the female, brown-haired news-reporter, clearly looking for a promotion or some type of finical advancement from the way she kept trying to be professional, perhaps not even caring about what was going on. Yami actually considered killing the woman for the implausible reason that she was annoying him with her faux smiles and cheap concern that she tried to convince people with. He rather had been looking at the much more pleasant angelic face of his little inspiration. The teenager was just so beautiful with those innocent features of his, those eyes of refined amethyst…
"Pardon me sir, but would you like me to refill your wine glass?" Inquired his butler who token noticed that the glass was empty, earning a convincing look of gratefulness from Yami who really was contemplating on killing him too for interrupting his thoughts about Yugi.
"If it is not a bother to you," he kindly responded with a charming smile, still contemplating this sudden desire to have the man's head at his feet.
The butler too, just like everyone else, fell for his irresistible charms as he bowed and smiled at his master, amazed at how one person could be so polite, even to a servant like him. "It is not a problem for me sir. It is my job to serve you." Bowing again, the butler retreated to find more wine for his master, ignorant to the sound of metal sliding out of an expensive sheath.
"Wait."
"Yes sir-"
The short but sickening melody of metal slicing through flesh and bone was heard as a body stood rigidly before falling to the ground in spasmodic convulsions, cleanly decapitated with a quickly forming pool of blood forming where the neck was served, a head rolling only to stop eerily in front of what appeared to be feet covered in Egyptian sandals. Yami could only look detachedly at the lifeless corpse of his former servant as he cleaned the blade of an ancient sword with the hem of his ruby-red robe, sheathing it before putting it back on its resting place above the crackling fireplace. Maybe it was best he shouldn't have killed his servant seeing as was beginning to lose more servants that way. But as easy as they were to kill was as easy to replace them, like a snap of the fingers. He laughed at the thought in his rich baritone voice as he proceeded to discarding the body, by feeding to flames living in his fireplace, hungry for the tribute Yami was going to feed it. A few grunts later of physical exertion, the artist watched avid fascination as the flames began devour the body into its heat, melting skin, cooking flesh, and charring bone until there was naught but left of the previously alive human except black ash and reek stench of burned flesh. He really needed to stop acting on impulse because now he would have to order someone to clean up the blood staining the carpet and deodorize the room to rid it of the stench. Of course he wasn't worried about his servants turning suspicious because if they were to ask questions, he would easily lie and say he spilled red paint on the floor and the smell came from oil burning.
Ingenious right?
Exiting the room wrought with murder, Yami ordered a passing servant to get assistance in the cleaning the room before proceeding to his favorite living room to further gaze upon the mocking blankness of his bare canvas. And there it was in its profound ugliness, greeting him tauntingly as he entered the room, crimson eyes narrowing into defined slits as it mocked him in silence.
Such a great artist you are; unable to paint anything…
'Shut up,' he snapped furiously at the intangible voice from which its source was unknown.
What? Does the truth hurt? Or did I merely strike a nerve?
'I'm warning you…' The irate artist walked closely towards the canvas, eyeing it challengingly.
Or what Yami Atemu? Kill me just like everyone else that upsets you?
Yami stiffened at the slight accusation, his posture tense, 'You don't understand…'
Why? Is it because I'm simply a blank canvas, your fear?
'I have no fears.'
Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself? Face it Yami, your losing your sanity.
The artist scoffed. 'It was never there to begin with.'
Good point.
After the remark, Yami heard no more from the voice, or what he had recently established it to be this accursed canvas that taunted and mocked him every time he entered this room. He knew unless he painted something, the voice was going to continue its jeering commentary, no matter how much he viciously retorted or ignored it. One time, Yami had forced himself to take a brush to his hand and attempt to create something out of its blatant nothingness, but the artist within him rebelled against him and wouldn't allow him to paint anything on its surface. From then on, Yami realized this particular canvas was going to be the most beautiful picture he has created, a picture he would keep only for his selfish desires while he fed the world what considered mediocre paintings, just a mockery of his true talent. He knew this was the canvas that was going to be the very reflection of Yugi's soul as he attempted to recreate it at what he saw. Already, he could feel the mingling of his precious little inspiration and his own rich blood serving as the paint for this magnificent creation, could envision the perfection it would become upon its finish. Then Yugi would see that he was truly the world's greatest artist to have ever live and love him for it. Through the madness of his unhinged mind, Yami could identify what he truly wanted out of this whole twisted ordeal he was going to force this young teenager into. All he wanted was to for someone to accept him, to admire, to love him for him. His madness and desire for blood, the need to have someone to share his view on things and Yugi was the perfect candidate. Should Yugi refuse, then…
Crimson eyes darkened considerably as they glared into the consuming blankness of the canvas.
Yugi would die…
A/N: Well if you made it thus far, than you either like it or hate. Either option, tell me what you think because I need to know your thoughts. Do not bother to take easy on me because I'm a newbie. I welcome constructive criticism. In a way, it is my bread and butter. Your reviews will determine the fate of this story...