AN/Warnings: I'm supposed to be writing an English paper in these evil early hours of the morning. It's due Monday but I'm too tired and simply can't be bothered.
Fun fun. I decided to write a (very) short little Seto angst instead.
Inspired by a poem from a book called The Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's a very good book about a boy who's writing to someone. Anyway, the poem is about a boy who writes poems, and how his life gets steadily worse as the years go by and his poems become less and less 'normal'. It reminded me of Seto.
Warnings: Almost death, cutting (I usually don't write cutting fics. The poem brainwashed me. It's two in the morning, give me a break), angst, blah. The usual, nothing to see here people, keep moving. Amazingly one shot. Deal with it. Sorry. I need caffeine.
Edit: Squee, finally got this onto my own computer and fixed it up. It looks better now. :3 I also realized this is most likely slightly AU because of Seto's parents. Yay.
Bandaged Memories
I lean against the wall, and twirl the blade around in my hands. It pricks my fingers, and I watch the blood spurt and slowly start to run down them.
Mokuba's out. He won't miss me, anyway. I'm tainting his perfect world anyway.
He probably won't find me for a while. I can see it now.
---
"I'm home! Nii-sama? Nii-sama, where are you?" A smile will still be plastered across his face, because he probably just thinks I'm ignoring him. He'll bound down the hallway to my room, and even though it's locked with a new combination, he'll crack it.
I won't be there.
So he'll try the computer room, maybe I was too engrossed in my work to answer. The monitor is on screensaver mode.
I won't be there either.
I wonder what's behind door number three?
He'll check the lab downstairs, maybe I couldn't hear him.
No. His Nii-sama isn't anywhere to be found.
He'll start to get worried. His Nii-sama's life revolves around those three rooms. Why isn't he in at least one of them?
He'll grasp at straws – maybe I'm in his room? No, it's exactly the same as it always was, picture perfect.
A look of worry is plain on his face now. Something isn't right.
"Nii-sama! NII-SAMA! This isn't funny!"
No, no it's not, is it, Mokuba?
When he reaches the main bathroom, he'll find that the door is locked. He'll pick it, and open the door. The sharp, metallic taste might even overwhelm his senses.
He'll scream.
---
Yes, I suppose that's what will happen. I wonder if I've written my will. Yes, I must have. Kaiba Corporation will go to Mokuba when he's eighteen, he'll probably go back into foster care, or something. If he's lucky, maybe one of my 'friends' will take him in. Anzu, maybe even Yugi and his grandpa.
I don't know anymore.
You probably think I'm being selfish, don't you? Holding this knife out in front of me like it's my salvation.
If you think that, you don't know shit.
I've been dealing with my pain since me and Mokuba were tossed into that orphanage. I couldn't just take care of myself, I had to take care of Mokuba. I had to beat Gozaburo for our safety. I'm always being reminded of how much my brother means to me, and how he's supposed to mean the world.
He does, honest. Just not as much as some other people will have you make it out to be.
Mokuba, Duel Monsters, Kaiba Corporation and beating Yugi.
God, I'm so easy to fit in a nutshell.
I hate it.
"Ah…" It's almost a breath, as the silver slices my skin easily, and I flick my wrist to bring the blade to a halt.
A perfect scarlet line rests on my left wrist for a moment, before the blood starts to flow and run down.
The pain is immense, extreme. It's some sort of insane adrenaline, because I can hear my heart pounding, the blood beating through my veins. Sweat starts to form on my forehead, I can feel it.
I don't remember much about our parents. I suppose I remembered much more when I was little.
Mokuba doesn't remember anything at all.
I wish I could give him some of my memories, because I won't be needing them.
I only remember a few things – a hug at night, eating and talking at dinner.
Only one memory of them is prominent in my mind.
I remember when my parents had a fight once. Mokuba was so small, I could carry him. He can running into my room, tears rolling down his face from dark eyes.
"Mommy or Daddy isn't running away?" He pleaded with me, sitting on my bed. He wasn't old enough to string together complete sentences, but I knew what he meant.
I smiled, and had wrapped my arms around him. It was a week before Christmas, and I suddenly felt angry with my parents. They weren't supposed to fight, especially not this time of year. It was too magical for hatred.
I hate it.
That earns me a much more jagged cut across my right wrist – I'm not ambidextrous, you know. This cut doesn't even have two seconds of perfection for me to stare at, as the blood dribbles down.
I bite down on my lower lip to stop my urge to yell.
---
My eyes roll in my head, I've been sitting here for hours, slumped against the tile wall.
Why can't I just die of fucking blood loss already? I've been feeling faint for the last two hours. If Mokuba comes home-
"I'm home! Nii-sama? Nii-sama, Yugi's with me!"
Oh shit.
I moan in defeat, and bury my head in my hands.
Yugi gets up here much faster than I ever expected, and breaks down the door with surprising ease.
He lets out a gasp when he sees me, rushing to my side. He hovers over me for a minute, but that stops abruptly.
Something changes. It's like someone took him apart and rearranged him, like a puzzle that can be solved two ways. He's the same, but he's different.
"Come on, Seto." He whispers, grabbing both my wrists with his. He doesn't seem to notice the blood that smears across his hands, as he supports me under my shoulders.
I hear Mokuba's scream, and the dialing of the phone, the wail of the ambulance.
Someone takes my hand, and murmurs that it's going to be okay.
Nothing.
----
Yugi rubs his eyes, awakening from an uneasy sleep. He realizes he's sitting on an chair in a hospital room, and the whole night replays in his mind.
Mokuba is half sitting and half lying on his Nisama's bed, dark circles under his eyelids and his raven hair messily thrown onto the sheets. He's holding Seto's hand, and on his face is the look of a dreamer who can't decide if they're in a dream or a nightmare.
The entire room is white, and the projection of his Other stands out, even though he's transparent.
"How did you know?"
The ancient Pharaoh looks over to the bed, where Seto Kaiba is sleeping. Bandages wrapped around his wrists, blood being pumped into him and an IV bag on the other side. His crimson eyes soften considerably, and the Pharaoh shrugs, his hands in his pockets.
"I can always tell when someone is about to give up on the greatest game of all. I also don't approve of cheaters."