Lonely

Rating/Warnings: K/None

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! and am not making any money off of this fiction work.

Summary: The missed opportunity makes people feel alone. Yugi ponders his feelings one night while he sits on the couch and cries. Puzzleshipping-ish.

The two figures on the almost dusty screen lean closer and closer; soft music with hopeful chords and melodies flow gracefully out of the speakers, and then the two people finally kiss. It's sweet, and not lusty or tainted with human things such as want and desire.

It's love in its truest form.

I pull the blanket closer to me and sigh, getting a whiff of what could only be my own scent. Who else could it have belonged to? I feel so alone. Because I am alone. Grandpa had died years ago, as well as Yami, and after spending so many nights alone in my cold dark apartment, I feel like I'm not truly loved anymore.

Not the love that I want, anyways.

Jou, Anzu, and Honda are all still there. None of them had gone anywhere, and we're all still as close as ever. We all still hang out on both the weekends and the weekdays, but it's not the same. It's not the same as truly being loved.

But I know that it's not any of their faults. How can it be? How can they love someone that can't love them back?

It's true, I don't think that I've ever truly been in love. Well, not any love that's reachable to me, anyways. It's so confusing. How can someone tell if they're truly, deeply in love with someone? It must be impossible.

And normally, I don't mind; most of the time, I'm perfectly happy with my memories and the promises of good times ahead with my friends. It's just that at times like these, I just feel like it's not enough. I feel like I'll never have the satisfaction of just one sweet pure kiss, like the people on the TV screen had.

And I know that's it's just TV; I know that it's not real. But it happens. It really does. As hard as it is to imagine in the world that we all live in today, there's still something known as true love, and there's still something known as kindness and compassion…love.

Yet I don't have that. And sure, I'm still young. I still have my whole life ahead of me. But what if that life gets cut short? What if something happens, and I die? Or what if I don't, and still can't love?

What if I'm like Yami and never get the chance? With all of the things that life demands of you, what if there isn't time to love? Is the world really that bad?

They say that there's a special someone for everyone in the world, but what if that special someone dies before you get a chance to meet them? What if you can never meet them, because you don't see the opportunity? Or what if you do see it and can't find a way to make it work?

I frown, and find that there are tears clinging to my eyelashes. Sniffing, I brush them away. I hate these kinds of thoughts; I hate the feeling of being unloved and lonely, and I hate the feeling of dying before I get the chance that I long for. I hate the fear.

Even as I brush them away, new tears take their place. I'm outright sobbing now, yet I can't even understand why. Did I already miss that chance and not even realize it? Was I already in the deepest love possible with someone and had missed the opportunity? Without even realizing it?

"Aibou."

I shake my head, disturbing the stubborn tears. I know that this isn't real, and that there's nothing real about the voice in my head or the feeling that I'm getting from it. But at the same time, I welcome it. I cherish it with open arms, but I really don't even know why.

"Is something wrong?"

The voice speaks to me again, and I know exactly who it is. I know exactly what my mind is telling me, so I wipe the tears away again. They don't return to me this time, and I stand up to turn off the television set so I can go to bed and dream. Because I understand now what those tears and those feelings meant.

"No…there's nothing wrong."

I can't tell, though. I don't know.

True love isn't a kiss…or sex. Love isn't something that you can see or smell or taste or hear. You can feel it of course, but not in the bodily sense. Not all of the time. Sometimes you just have to know. And...I think that I might know.

But I can't think forever about that wasted opportunity.

…Because then I'll miss the next one.

Before sliding into my cold bed, I wipe away one last tear that had somehow slipped out of my eye.

But until then, until I see the light and that next opportunity, I feel alone.

Because I am alone. I missed it.

Author's Notes: This one-shot was revised on 8-4-06.

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