Disclaimer: YGO! still doesn't belong to Dustbunny and she still isn't making any profit. You want more proof of a higher power? I suggest a list of other series that Dustbunny doesn't own
A/N: That's right, I'm still kicking in Computerfreak101's contest. This fic was one pain in the neck to write. Can you believe that I originally had an idea to do a humor fic for this round? I remember I used to be able to write something that was almost like humor... Anyway, this was written from from two-thirty to four-thirty in the morning-- this morning, in fact-- and would be little more than a heaping helping of bad grammatical errors if not for my wonderful beta reader, Jensti. Let's give her a quick round of applause for bothering with me at all, huh?
And... that's enough.
Seriously, people, that's enough.
... Stop clapping already-- and sit back down while you're at it, there's no need for a standing ovation! Just read the fic, eh?
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It seemed odd to Rebecca that she should be cold when she sat a mere ten feet from a cheerily crackling fire, but as she bent forward over the coffee table, pen poised over a blank sheet of notebook paper, a definite chill circulated her body like a second blood stream. The friendly flames may as well have been flickering at an iceberg for all the good they were doing, and Rebecca was beginning to wonder if there wasn't a crack in the window or else in one of the walls, letting the bitter winter air into the room. Or maybe this inexplicable cold was a forerunner of pins and needles; she hadn't moved in some time.
With a sigh, Rebecca threw down her pen and rubbed at her temples as though trying to erase them. After digging her knuckles under her glasses and into her desert dry eyes, she dared peek at the grandfather clock situated in the far corner of the room. She'd been sitting here for almost an hour and still had made no progress. What was the point of being a genius if she couldn't write a simple letter?
Well, no, "simple" was hardly the word to use. This was going to be, in essence, a love letter. Still. Genius, right?
Frowning so deeply that she had little doubt she was causing herself early wrinkles, Rebecca leaned back in her armchair, incensing as she did so, and making a mental note never to sit hunched over for anywhere near an hour ever again. Ignoring the protest of her stiff neck, she stared at the ceiling in hopes of inspiration. The ceiling was being singularly unhelpful.
"Meow!"
Rebecca jumped at the sudden sound, having heard nothing but the crackle and pop of the fire and the steady ticking of the grandfather clock for all the time that she had sat in thought over her letter. Cupcake, the kitten that Otogi, of all people, had given her as a late birthday gift (or an early birthday gift or an early Christmas gift or any other sort of gift she wanted it to be as long as she please just took the thing-- one was plenty bad enough), jumped into her lap and rubbed up against her in a plea for attention. With an indulgent smile, Rebecca gave in and pet the kitten the length of his chocolate brown body. She could sympathize with wanting attention.
Sighing yet again, Rebecca leaned back and glanced around as though for someone to write the letter for her. Predictably, there was no one unless she expected Cupcake to do it; her grandfather had gone to bed hours ago-- not that she'd want him to do it either. Pouting, Rebecca was strongly tempted to turn the television on.
"No," she mumbled to herself, shaking her head vaguely, "that wouldn't be any good."
And it really wouldn't be. Sure, her attention would normally be glued to whatever channel was showing one of Yugi's duels, but Rebecca wanted to get this letter done, and she'd never do it when the intended recipient was within her sight. Or rather she would, but it wouldn't end well. Being around Yugi, even seeing Yugi, turned her into a clingy little girl. This letter needed to be written by a mature young woman.
"And it's going to be!" Rebecca declared to no one, sitting up and clenching both fists in her determination, scaring Cupcake off her lap and under the loveseat. As if in response, the fire popped loudly, and Rebecca allowed herself a moment to believe it was commending her. Newly energized, Rebecca took up her pen and leaned over the stack of paper before her, face set in determination, eyes no doubt catching the firelight in such a dramatic manner that she was sad that the effect was lost on the empty room.
Ten minutes later, Rebecca was still hunched over and the paper was still blank. A scowl was beginning to form, and so was a headache.
"This is stupid," Rebecca berated herself. "You know how to start a letter." And so she pressed pen to paper determinedly and--
Dear Darling
Rebecca sat up ramrod strait, lip curled up in disgust as she surveyed what she had written in her vigor. Yugi wouldn't take her seriously if she started off calling him by the pet name that she squealed when they met. Shaking her head at her own stupidity, Rebecca crumpled the paper up into a ball and tossed it into the fire-- or tried to, anyway. It actually hit the wall a few feet away from the hearth. Making another mental note, this one not to forget to pick it up later, she bent over the next piece of paper. At least she had a better idea now of what she wanted to write.
Dear Yugi
Nodding to herself, Rebecca looked at her opening with undue pleasure. She was finally making some progress! After a moment of thought, she continued, the words flowing easier now that she'd made a start.
How have you been? Good, I hope. Of course there's no telling how you'll be when I finally get your response. Well, that's assuming that you write instead of sending an e-mail. That's the advantage of technology, and I know that we usually communicate that way but
Growling lightly, Rebecca viciously snatched up the paper and gave it the same treatment as its predecessor, this time managing to hit the television even though it was situated against a different wall than the hearth was set in. She'd started babbling. Babbling was not a good thing.
Quickly copying out the opening of the last failed attempt, Rebecca took a deep breath and pressed on. Now that she was finally writing something, she was unwilling to hesitate for too long. Hesitation led to procrastination.
How are you? Good, I hope. I know it's probably weird to be getting a letter from me when I usually send e-mails, but I've been meaning to fall into the habit. Anyone with internet access can send an e-mail, but how many people these days take the time to write letters? I think it says something for how much someone cares about who he or she is writing to.
Sitting back, Rebecca cast a beady glance over what she'd written. It was subtle, but all things considered... Sighing in frustration, she crumpled up the third sheet of paper and tossed it carelessly in the direction of the fire. It fell three feet short, not that Rebecca cared. She chewed on the edge of her pen for a moment before realizing, with a scowl, that she rather liked what she'd written after all. Unwilling to use the crumbled paper, she rewrote the opening and first paragraph and plowed onward, determined to get through.
I've been doing well myself. In fact, I'll be graduating soon. I don't suppose that there's any chance that you could make an appearance at the ceremony? It would make all of my classmates so jealous
Eyes drooping slightly in resigned irritation, Rebecca rolled the paper into the ball, threw it towards the fire without looking and rewrote everything but the last sentence onto a fresh sheet of paper.
Of course you'd have to deal with all my classmates and their guests. You aren't quite as popular over here, but people know who you are and the idiots I'm surrounded with would beg all over you for an autograph just so they could sell it online.
Pausing, Rebecca tried to think of a way that what she'd just written showed her in a positive light. Operative word being "tried." She didn't even bother aiming her fifth paper ball at the fire, but this time let it bounce indignantly off the floor just past the coffee table. By now Cupcake had come out from under the loveseat and was tentatively batting the paper around the floor. Rebecca took a moment to smile at the scene before she plunged on, copying her last letter as far as her suggestion that Yugi attend her graduation.
You'll have to put up with a few fans, of course. I think they'll be interested to meet you. No one believed me when I mentioned knowing you at first, and I think some of my classmates still think I'm full of it. Wouldn't they be surprised if you showed up? It would certainly put them in their place, thinking that you consider yourself above being my friend.
Rebecca paused to look over her work, nodding and allowing a small smile as she did so. It was finally coming out as she always knew it should, and she has written herself into a perfect flow for where she was going.
Actually, that's sort of why I'm writing. Our friendship, I mean. It's definitely the reason I'm not sending an e-mail-- on part because of the delayed embarrassment, two parts because a letter is just more personal, and more appropriate for this. I want to thank you, and to apologize.
I was just some weird brat challenging you to a duel over a misunderstanding, but you never held it over my head. You didn't say "I told you so" or try to talk down to me. You didn't act as though you were better than me. Instead you offered me your friendship, and it wasn't an empty offer. You've always treated me like a friend and like an equal since then.
That's why I'm thanking you, and it's why I'm apologizing. You treated me so well, but I didn't return the favor. Instead I acted like a different level of weird brat. I put you in awkward positions and threw myself a yout, mewling for you attention like a kitten.
Cupcake hissed all of a sudden, and Rebecca looked up in surprise, thinking that he somehow knew what she had written. She relaxed and even laughed a little when she saw that the fight with the paper balls still had his undivided attention. Rebecca couldn't be certain, but it seemed the paper balls were winning. Rolling her eyes dramatically, she returned to her letter.
I can only imagine what kind of teasing you must have had to put up with because of me. That was never my intention. Quiet has never been my forte, as I'm sure you know, and I felt like I had to try even harder. I felt something for you and wanted you to know, and wanted you to feel the same. It made my stomach turn to think of you hearing me as only background noise. As you know from experience, even a genius can act childishly when faced with that. It hurts me to imagine what you must think of the way I acted.
Rebecca took a deep breath, steadying herself for what needed to be written next.
The thing is, I want you to think as highly of me as I think of you. I know you think this is just a phase I'm growing through, just a puppy crush that I'll get over, but it's more than that. I guess it wouldn't be right to really call what I feel for you love just yet, but I know that it could be. I also know that you could feel the same way about me. You care about me, even if it is just as a friend, and that can always lead to more. And I know that four years of difference is a lot at our ages, but we won't be our ages forever.
Pen hovering over the next line, Rebecca frowned over the last paragraph. She really didn't want to start from scratch at this point, but it felt disjointed. On the other hand, maybe that would help her case. Though not entirely satisfied, she decided to continue.
This is starting to sound strange, I know, like I'm some kind of stalker, but I'm putting this as best I can. I hope you'll at least consider what I'm saying. If you can even almost see us together, I hope you'll give us a chance. Please, if you care about me in any way, just think bout it.
Taking up the paper, Rebecca leaned back and perused it as a whole. It might not be the next best seller, but she thought it had turned out alright for a first attempt. If she knew Yugi, the thought would be more than enough for him. At the very least he might take her seriously since there was no squealing or goofiness to go along with the sentiment. Laying the letter back down on the table, Rebecca leaned back with a satisfied smile on her face, absentmindedly massaging her right hand. Never, in hand-writing ten page term rough drafts for term papers or taking inch-thick exams, had she ever had such a serious case of writer's cramp.
By this time Rebecca was hardly keeping her eyes open, but she watched Cupcake pounce and swat the paper balls with a grin, not quite having it in her to roll her eyes. She yawned widely and stretched herself like a cat, glancing at the clock as she did so. Spotting the time, nearly midnight now, she gave a start. Her letter, barely a page long, had taken almost two hours to write. She gave another start when she remembered Yugi's duel. It was probably over by now, but there might be something about it on the news.
Snatching up the remote from the corner of the coffee table where she'd pushed it, Rebecca settled back into the chair, which felt more comfortable than usual for some reason. The television was on with a click, and Rebecca flipped lazily through the channels even before the picture became clear. It didn't take long to find a news station covering the tournament results. Rebecca was not surprised to find that Yugi had won, and waited impatiently for video coverage.
Perhaps it was a result of her relaxed state, but she was rather taken off guard when the screen suddenly cut to what the news anchor announced was the final move of the match and part of the brief interview immediately afterward. A close-up shot of Yugi had her heart skipping a beat and speeding up as if to make up for the error and Rebecca was quite certain that the warmth spread out across her cheeks was not due to the fire. To her irritation, she even found herself biting back a giggle.
Watching one of Yugi's duels was always a treat, but with only the final move, Rebecca felt rather let down-- at least until the next Yugi close-up. So even though she couldn't quite feel the crowd's excitement along with them, her attention was caught as if in a net. A man in a suit and carrying a microphone in one hand and a trophy in the other was standing off to the side, apparently waiting for the crowd to settle down before approaching.
There was Yugi, waving to the crowd almost shyly. And there, as he descended the platform, were his three friends-- or, as Rebecca tended to think of them, his two friends and that girl. Jounouchi and Honda slapped Yugi high fives and waved and smiled at the cameras as if they had just won the tournament themselves. That girl-- oh, okay, Anzu-- was smiling at Yugi and saying something to him. She was on such an angle that Rebecca couldn't read her lips. Maybe because of the noisy crowd, she leaned in closer.
Rebecca sat up strait, suddenly wide awake, and stared avidly at the screen. Her heart skipped another beat, but this time notably without the usual feeling of warm fuzzies in her belly.
Really, it could have been nothing. It might just have seemed that Yugi colored a little as Anzu leaned closer. It might just have seemed that a significant look passed between them. It might just have seemed that Anzu's hand was on Yugi's shoulder a little longer than it needed to be, that she and Yugi stood a little closer than necessary, that their gazes remained locked just a split second after the announcer finally stepped forward for attention. But the smile on Anzu's face was dreamy and the look on Yugi's was brighter than simply winning another tournament should inspire.
In one fluid movement, Rebecca had caught up her finished letter, rolled it into a tight ball and tossed it in a graceful arc, just too high for Cupcake's frantic, claw-swiping leap, into the settling fire, settling back herself without so much as a sigh.
After all, people got over puppy crushes, didn't they?
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Praise appreciated, concrit treasured, flames raspberried