The Last of Me
Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor do I claim rights to any of the affiliated characters.
Warnings/Notes: This piece is part of a writing trade on tumblr, credit for the idea goes to crazy-athlete dot tumblr dot com. Italics represent both mindlink conversations between Yugi and Atem, as well as thoughts.
The connecting flight home was longer than expected, more familiar accents and airports than kids their age should have known.
"It won't be much longer now." Yugi told Atem through the mindlink.
Jono was snoring, head on Honda's shoulder in the row across from them. Anzu stared distractedly out a window. He had lost track of Otogi and Ryo in the boarding process but watched as their heads bobbed in and out of the crowd of other passengers. A swell of worry and sadness seemed to vibrate through the mindlink, gaining its own sentience and pressing into both of them. Through it, Yugi made a mental note to check that everyone got home okay.
"Are you ready?" He asked softly, facing the Pharaoh for the first time since he had retreated to the puzzle.
"I am." He said. "Let's go."
Yugi wondered if he should linger on that as much as he was. Sentences short like an order but devoid the cool authority of a king talking to subordinates. Words he could say so few and so quiet compared to the one he didn't.
Out of respect – or maybe it was fear that he would hurt him more – Yugi abandoned it too.
"Let's go." He agreed.
He did not say 'home.'
And maybe that was the largest unspoken fear hanging over all of them as they drug their bags through the airport. They had built a life around someone who would have to leave it, and that wasn't as unfair to them as it was to Atem.
The tragedy of his short life was heavy. Half a world of memories in two completely different cultures, with completely different people and places. Yugi couldn't imagine what he was going through anymore than he could fathom broaching it.
They had talked about a thousand harsh and terrible things since meeting, but none of them as jarring as the end of their time together. Even when he woke from the shadow realm and the belly of the great leviathan, they rejoiced that he was okay. They didn't talk about what hell was like – demons shredding your very spirit, lingering on earth with half a soul. Didn't set foot in the trauma of horrors no human should ever know. Atem had them too. More of them than he could ever imagine, and he was helpless in that struggle.
When they piled into Grandpa's car, no one, not even the old man himself, had the courage to prod him out of the puzzle and into the light of day. Atem would come out when he was ready.
For days, Yugi believed that.
When those days became a week, he believed it.
But as that week multiplied to two, he stared at the box on the top shelf of his closet and reminded himself that it had been Atem's coffin. The weight of this journey was three thousand years of oblivion long.
No one should have to carry it alone.
"Do you want to try out the new arcade tomorrow, try to beat some of Jono and Honda's old records?"
From a set of stairs, Atem glanced up, taking his face from the palm of his hand. "I'll watch you." He said.
Again, Yugi imagined more of what his other half wanted to say. I have watched people's spirits flow forth from stone prisons to defend their fellow man to the death. I stood with you in worlds real and virtual, countries vast and varied, in our own battles to what might have been the end. An arcade will never be the same.
Yugi wanted to tell him he understood but worried about putting words in his mouth.
Wanted to lay a hand on his shoulder but worried it was too dramatic.
So, he sat on the stairs, several sets above them still hanging upside down precariously.
"Maybe one day this week then, might as well make a competition out of it."
In the night, when Atem's memories became his nightmares, the thought crossed his mind again.
No one should have to carry this alone…and yet, the best he could offer in his awkwardness was avoidance.
He turned to the other side of the mattress, eyes squeezed closed too tightly against visions of serpent's tongues in their soft sockets, bloodied corpses lining cobblestone streets. Ash overwhelmed him with each breath, and he thought it might fall from his eyelids when they finally snapped open.
It was Atem's voice that pulled him out of the illusion, dark cloak trailing behind him on the current of his own, powerful steps.
"You're dreaming, aibou," He said, and stroked a hand over Yugi's face, closed eyes and all.
Somewhere in the distant recesses of a mind that wasn't his own, Yugi recalled a deeper voice, graveled and gruff, and almost told Atem he had done it. For all the pain, he had saved his people. He had made a life, however short, when fate sought to steal it as a teenager. He would have said, "you are your father's son," except that he felt like a child, alone and cowering in his bed.
What he settled for was the slowing drum of Atem's heartbeat next to his own until morning came, and the harsh glow of his phone, brighter than the still cresting sun through the window.
"I don't know how much time we have left with him, but I don't want to leave Atem knowing he's struggling like this. I can't give him the closure he needs. Maybe none of us can…" The message trailed on, and at the end of it, lit through the dawn, Anzu replied.
"Can I talk to him alone for a while?"
Yugi stared, letting in the slow flood of relief while he typed, "Please."
It felt too pushy to stand in front of him and announce what they had planned, so Yugi didn't. Instead he sat down on the stairs, an equal, and offered a hand for Atem to take.
"What's the matter, Yugi?"
"I need you to take over for a while, I'll stick to the soul room."
Atem didn't have a chance to ask why before he felt their presence shift, and a familiar plaza materialize around him in the mild air of spring.
"Over here!" Anzu called, one arm crossed over her chest, hand tucked against her opposite elbow.
"Anzu?" He understood what this was and winced at his own bitterness when he found himself wishing he didn't. "We don't have to do this." He said as he bridged the gap between them. A couple passing by on their right narrowed their eyes to the ground awkwardly and he didn't let himself wonder what he must have sounded like.
"But here we are." Anzu said, with her smile that hid too much. Atem consciously didn't let himself replace it with –
"Here we are." He agreed, voice softening. "Would you guide me?" He offered an arm on reflex and blushed when she took it.
"Love to," She said, "I'm surprised you got away from Jono, he's been texting me all morning worried."
"About me?" Atem asked while they made their way behind the plaza, crossing the parking lot to a string of chain restaurants packed with early afternoon pre-mall shoppers, and after-warship retirees.
"We've all been worried about you," Anzu admitted, "Seeing what we saw back in Egypt…it's not anything I can imagine living through." She paused for a long time, letting the words sink in. "But I have a lot to say too, things I'll regret if you don't hear them from me before you go."
She took his silence as shock at her honesty and didn't let her inner voice convince her that she was taking away from him somehow. Atem wouldn't want to focus on himself. He was dutybound to other people, and now more than ever, she had to respect his need for give and take.
"Let's find a private booth at the back."
Her grip on his arm became stronger, and Atem surrendered to it willingly. The people in these places were their own sort of obstacle, smiling hosts and bowing waitresses a battlefield she had more experience navigating.
They slid into a booth big enough for just the two of them, and he focused on the flecks of green in her eyes to distract from the chatter around them.
"Do you two need a few minutes?"
He stalled, mouth stuck on half a word, but Anzu jumped in.
"Can we get two chocolate shakes on the same check? Thanks."
The waiter nodded, scribbling, and left with a promise to be right back.
"This place is packed," She said, "We won't see him for at least another fifteen minutes."
Until right this moment, Atem forgot she used to do his job. "Do chocolate shakes take a while?" He asked, and she shrugged.
"It depends, we're a little early for ice cream so it might have to soften enough to dip. I didn't cook, but this is the pushiest crowd you can have. If we paid enough attention I bet five people would flag him down like a dog before we left."
Atem's disapproving frown was one of the things she would miss the most. Something so little said so much, and she appreciated his silent solidarity more than she could say.
"Did they do that to you?" Atem asked, "Flag you down like a…"
"They would whistle." Anzu said, shrugging again to diffuse how uncomfortable he was at the thought. "You learn to let it roll off, especially if the tips are good. If they're not you wear the same smile and keep going. But…" She pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and divided them evenly between the two of them. "I want to talk about you."
"There's not much to say."
"There's too much to say," She countered, rightly, "You must have missed them desperately."
"That's the blessing in this, I didn't know them to miss them."
It was obligation talking. Obligation to play off her fears. To tell her he was fine. To act like this was manageable.
She had been along for the ride as he searched for his memories, their absence an endless, aching hole inside of him the likes of which not even Yugi could fill. He missed them without knowing them. Longed for people with no faces and a home with no name. His identity might have been the most important piece of all this, but he had stumbled upon so much more than that.
Especially in these moments, she couldn't let herself be jealous.
"That must be hard to face." Anzu said, "Do you feel like you know them now?"
"Deeply." Atem said. "And as part of myself."
For the first time, she mulled over the difference between "they're my friends," and "they're my people."
"I feel like you're juggling so much, can you tell me…" She stopped, trying to find a way to ask more politely.
A way that wouldn't crush her when he answered.
"Go on."
"Do you feel like you'll be ready to go?" She blurted out, crimson spreading over her cheeks at how abrupt it was. "I don't know when it will be, but everything feels so uncertain and almost unfair right now."
"Unfair?" He asked, nodding his thanks when the shakes came.
"After everything we went through to get to this point, it still feels like you'll be leaving so soon. Even though you went back to help the entire world, and I'm sure it was so much closure, I know things aren't exactly okay. I don't know how they could ever be okay."
Atem moved his glass closer to him, if only to play with the red and white straw.
"It is." He said slowly. "I don't know myself how it came to feel that way, but I have peace that my people are okay, and the end of their chapter isn't painful. Not for me."
"But…" Anzu said softly.
"But I don't know how to close the door on everything we've built here." Atem replied.
We.
We.
The very word seemed to flutter.
"I'm at another crossroads, Anzu," He continued, "Going home to my people, ending a journey that has carried me through thousands of years and still feels too short. I wonder why goodbyes always feel too soon and I don't think there's any good answer except that they're meant to. If we don't ache, does it mean it's all been for nothing?"
She was mesmerized by the words, the way they touched her own soul in places she hadn't wandered for years. Since her mother died.
"I don't know," She admitted. "I wish I did."
"There's so much that's still a mystery to me." Atem said, "I'm content that I've done what I needed to for Egypt, but Japan feels unfinished. Does destiny's call to leave Yugi mean we've learned all we can from each other? I couldn't accept that. I won't accept that. And what of Jono, and Honda, Ryou – who is Ryou if not for the darkness that stole him – and –"
And you.
How could I be fated to leave…you?
"I think that's something I can answer…sort of."
Atem leaned across the table, elbow propped against the wood, shirt sleeve absorbing the condensation from the cold glass in a warm diner.
"There are certain people who you love better at a distance after a while. Not that you won't love them just as well when you cross paths, but there are some parts of the story you're supposed to lead and others you're supposed to watch. Does that make any sense?"
He thought about it for a long time.
"It does." He said.
But that didn't make it any easier to accept.
He knew he was supposed to watch Yugi, Anzu, and the others fill their lives with people who would be, to them, as Mahad, Mana, and the others were to him…but actually doing it?
Letting them go?
He expected Anzu to follow up with more wisdom, even if it was cliche.
It'll get easier.
Time will heal you.
But she surprised him – she was always surprising him – when she simply said, "I know."
"You know?"
"The only time I had to cut someone out, I held on ten times tighter first. For the longest time it became so normal to me I didn't even realize I was suffocating myself."
"Is that what you think staying in Japan will do, suffocate me?" Atem asked.
If he had known she would try to take her words back so vehemently, he wouldn't have.
"No! No – I…I don't know." She admitted, voice getting softer as she stared down at her hands. The chocolate in her drink was too sweet and somehow tasted like nothing at the same time. She swallowed thickly as something to do. Anything to stall for time.
When she finally managed to look up, she met his eyes.
It should have shaken her nerve, but his hand moved from his glass and hers instinctively inched closer, both cold but getting warmer one on top of the other.
"I feel like…" She closed her eyes. "Atem." His name was so new but felt so right. "It's not even a feeling, it's a fact. I don't know how to live without you. I don't know what I'll do when you leave, of course I'll have Yugi and he's my best friend, he'll always be my best friend, but it isn't the same. I don't know who I am without you."
The words echoed deeply, not to the core of him, but nestled somewhere close enough he would always remember.
It took him too long to reply, feeling the warmth of her hand under his and trying to reciprocate without saying what he didn't feel.
"There will always be a hole in my heart for you." He said. "I care for you in a way I don't think I've ever cared for anyone. In a way I don't expect to care for anyone else."
Even as it burned, buried in the shame of being so forward, he couldn't bring himself to confess. Not now. He couldn't stay, and burdening her with something neither of them could control wasn't right.
"Days without you will be empty, but I won't. Not entirely. And Anzu, I care too much about you to think I'd leave you that way."
"Empty?" She whispered.
And he nodded.
For some reason, even the thought made her eyes wet. "Oh no," She said, putting on that smile to hide, laughing as she swiped at the tears. "I shouldn't have put it so dramatically. I won't be empty without you, I'll just be a different person." She bowed her head when she realized she had more tears left.
The restaurant had quieted a little, not because people were looking at her, but it still felt that way. She looked at the faint reflection of her own face and hoped her hair hid enough of it.
"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I've wanted to tell you for so long but I didn't know how. You don't have to say anything, I know it's a terrible time, but I couldn't handle you leaving without knowing. I think…I know, Atem, that I love you."
The words warmed him and he pressed his hands over hers a bit more firmly.
He should have said, 'I love you too,' but settled for asking, "Would you come sit beside me?"
She didn't bring her ice cream to his side when she shuffled out and then into his little corner of the booth. The unwanted stares of strange people were meant to deter them, they knew, but they couldn't.
Not now.
Not like this.
"I've known there would never be anyone else like you for a long time." He said, holding her gaze, "But there's more to it than that. I'm going to have to leave whether we like it or not and I have to know, if this is the way you feel – we feel – where does that leave –"
"Yugi." She said, and again he nodded. "I don't know. If I look at it deep down I understand I love you both, just in different ways, for different reasons. I used to think the two of you were two halves of the same soul and it never felt strange or wrong, I was conflicted sure, but now that I know I've loved…I've led on…"
"Anzu." Atem said, "You never led us on. Nothing has been plainer to me than your love for Yugi. It's the only reason I feel like I can leave him without regrets and know I won't be taking the only person he's ever rooted himself in. It isn't my place to say this, but he loves you. Dearly loves you."
"I've known him my whole life." Anzu said softly, "Loved him before he found the puzzle or met you, before he changed and we both grew up. I don't know what this all means, the only thing I'm sure of right now is I don't want to lose you. Not when we finally started being honest with each other."
"We were always honest with each other." Atem said, "Not about drawing these lines, but when it counted. Please tell me you'll hold onto that."
Anzu's tears glistened on her cheeks, and he almost didn't wipe them on the back of a hand. "I will," She whispered, pressing gently against his warm skin.
He shouldn't.
Not when she was vulnerable.
Not when he couldn't stay.
Not when this would never work.
Atem leaned in slowly, softly, only closing his eyes at the last moment to embrace her, pressing his warm lips to hers. He felt her tense and almost pulled back as she fumbled for what to do, but when her warm, fresh tears pressed coolly to his face, he knew.
She leaned back briefly, then in, one more time.
Because this wasn't "stay with me."
It was goodbye.
"No one can ever know." She said.
She fit so easily in his arms, like she belonged there.
Had she belonged there all this time?
"They won't." He assured her, never breaking their embrace.
"Your ice cream is melting." She said, stalling to come to terms with the well of emotion. She couldn't cry anymore at a time like this, she had come to talk about Atem and turned everything into her own confusion. What if he hadn't talked enough? What if he was still as lost now as he had been before?
Atem put a few bills on the table to cover the tab.
"It was worth it to have this time with you, melted ice cream and all." He said. "Will you be okay without me?"
She nodded. "I'll have to be. I will be. I haven't given up on going to New York, you're going to see my name up in lights one day. And someone has to take care of these boys, keep them out of trouble."
"You'll have your work cut out for you with Jono."
"Nah," She said, sniffling softly, "Honda will keep him on the right track. I'll spend my time worrying about the ones we should have worried more for. Yugi, Ryou."
Would they see more or less of Ryou now, Atem wondered.
"You've always put others before yourself." He said.
"Except when it matters. We came here to talk about you."
"And we did." Atem said firmly, "I couldn't have said half of this to anyone else. I don't want you to leave here feeling like you were a burden, Anzu. You have never been a burden. It will be a long time before I can confide in Mahad, my own father, the way I've confided in you. You've always been here when I needed you, and I'm sorry that you'll always need more from me and what we were than I can give you. I wish it had been different."
How many times had he said that?
Why did it feel so intrinsically wrong?
Fate had brought him here.
Fate had guided his way.
Fate had entwined him with these people exactly as it saw fit.
What was meant to happen, happened.
Isn't that what Isis would say? What his father would say?
"You've always been what I needed." Anzu said, "I hope you can go home at peace with at least that much. You were my rock when I was weak, and I'll cherish you the rest of my life. I know when I think of you, you'll be with me."
"That's right." Atem said softly, and hated that he felt, now more than ever, like it was time. "Look after him."
"I will." She said.
"Promise me you'll leave here without regrets."
"I will." Her smile seemed brighter. "You too."
"You have my word."
They stood hand in hand to duck away from the stares of disapproving elders and parents.
Having said too much but not enough.
Leaving with hearts full enough to ache but empty enough to echo their last sworn words.
"No regrets." She said as they stood facing opposite directions, going their separate ways for what could be the last time.
Atem caught her chin with a softened hand and brought her lips to his once more.
"Not one." He said, "You are my oath."
She carried those words with her the whole way home and closing the door didn't make them feel farther away. Facing Yugi instead of Atem the next morning didn't make them feel farther away.
They were with her, a part of her, no matter the distance between them.
Look after him.
It couldn't have been further from asking her to wait for him, but that was okay.
It meant something.
More than she ever imagined.
When he left they would be the same contradiction: not together but still each other's.
Entwined.
Whole.