All Hallows Eve


Author's Notes: Since Halloween is coming up soon, I figured that I'd write a Halloween fic. I was thinking about what to write, and I came up with this idea… it's a little bit like my other fic, Appearances, but still, I wanted to write it. So, here we go… Oh yeah, Yami is supposed to wear a lot of buckles, right? Where? Does he put them on his ankles or something? I'll just say that he only wears a few.

Disclaimer: See other stories.

I gaze into the mirror, but somehow, I do not see myself. Sure, my hair was still colorful, with all of its red, black, and gold, but the spikes droop. I see my violet eyes, but even to me, they are dull and lifeless. I see a teenager, solemn and cold, where I had once seen a child. I should be used to it by now, but somehow, I am not.

My hand moves up to my hair, then falls to the counter once more. I sigh, and continue my previous business.

I slip the contacts carefully in my eyes, then stare at my reflection again. I was never nearsighted, but the color is good. Oh yes, the color is very good. I blink slowly, unused to seeing my eyes the same shade as rubies. I'm unused to seeing my eyes like his own. The sight makes me want to cry, but I do not. I'm not sure if contacts can remain in place through tears: I would look strange with amethyst peeking out from behind the ruby. Besides, he never cried.

And then, I cheer up. I do look like him, don't I? Why is that a bad thing?

Next step. I eye the bottle in my hands apprehensively. Aren't the contacts enough?

No.

I know that it's not enough, even as I look at my reflection now. I carefully dip my head over the sink, and begin putting the extra highlights in my hair.

When I finish, I can't help but smile. I look just like him. I carefully hide the bottle, then stride confidently towards my room, towards the back of my closet. There, I find the things that I should have thrown away, that my grandpa had told me to throw away… the things that I hadn't the heart to get rid of.

Now, I smile, glad that I had listened to myself. I pull out his favorite outfit, and lay it out on the bed. The door is already shut and locked, the curtains tightly drawn. I undress until I am down to my boxers and neck-buckle. Then, on impulse, I take the buckle off as well, laying it on my blue and white pile of clothes.

I turn towards the black ones.

His favorite pants were leather, much like most of his other favorite clothes. I slip those on, as well as his muscle shirt, which he had always worn with the pants. That done, I slip the second drawer out from my dresser. There, I find all of his buckles. I smile to myself, and slip a few out, putting them in their appropriate places. The Millennium Puzzle, I slip around my neck.

When I finish, I look at myself in my full-length mirror. I growl in disgust. Who was I kidding? The leather pants had caressed his every movement, as a second skin. I, obviously, am about a size too small. And the muscle shirt, well, I have no muscle.

I rip both off, and leave them in a heap on my bed. I sprawl next to them, and cry.

Moments later, I get up. I carefully fold his clothes, hanging them back up. I find new clothes.

I take off my buckles once more, and put the new clothes on. They are leather, of course: anything else just wouldn't do him justice. The pants are much looser than the previous, as they had been a bit large, even on him. They go past my feet. Perfect. The shirt is another sleeveless, granted, but it's a much better size. It's not so tight that it'll reveal my muscles, or my lack thereof, but it's not so large that I'll look like one of those gangsters.

The buckles go on again, one around my neck, and one around my waist. I put the rest back into the drawer. I then grasp the Millennium Puzzle in my hands, staring at it. It hasn't gotten dusty over the past month, I have made sure of that. When the strap broke, I put in a fine, gold chain, which I now slip around my neck.

I view myself in the mirror once more, this time smiling in satisfaction. The doorbell rings, and at the same time, someone pounds on the door.

"You coming, Yugi?" Joey's voice floats upstairs.

They can wait. I stare at myself a little longer, then grab the jacket that I had prepared earlier. I check my appearance yet again in the mirror, adjusting the strap that runs down the back. My transformation is complete.

"Coming!" I yell.

Some say that Halloween is a night when the dead roam again. I smirk at my reflection. Of course that's true. Tonight, my Yami lives again.