Hey lil bit of a oneshot, one sided. If it does well I might add a Seto POV, idk though yet,
anyway, I own nothing except the storyline for this, or else I'd be rich
It's not often that I'm in school early. It's not often I even make it on time. But today is Wednesday, It's special.
Wednesdays I have English, first period. Now, it's not that I like English. I don't care for poetry and prose, and I'm not a fan of classic text. If you've heard my speech you'll know I'm no grammar fanatic either. I'm not even fond of the teacher. No. I'm fond of the boy that sits one row in front of me, and to my right.
Every morning he takes that same seat. He glides in gracefully, without a single care, sits his briefcase on the table, pulls out his laptop, and begins to type. I like to watch his fingers fly over the keys, to watch his graceful motions, and his distressed expression reflect back to me from the computer screen.
I guess some people could say I have a crush.
But I don't. It's so much more than that. My heart aches at every glimpse I can get, and pounds with each word we exchange. My breath is taken away every time we touch, even if the contact is in malice. My skin tingles for moments afterwards, goosebumps prickling at my skin, and my eyes begin to burn with yearning.
It's so much more than just a crush.
It's love.
But I don't steal this seat every Wednesday to steal glances I can get from anywhere else in the room. No. I steal this seat as it gives the perfect view of him. I can see his reflection, his poise, his entire personality hidden behind his computer.
And I like to draw.
I have a special pad that I use. It's completely secret. No one knows about it, except me of course. I keep it in my bag, hidden away from the rest of the world. It lives in a wall panel at home, so that no one could find it, even if they looked. The drawings inside are mine. They express my hopes and wants, all of my dreams. I sketch them out as vividly as I can.
Every single sheet of paper contains an image of him.
Sat at his laptop, his eyes furrowed in thought, glazed over with a blank and unreadable expression.
It's true. He's all I can dream about. He is the only thing that is on my mind at any given moment. I go home and lay on my bed, closing my eyes with a pillow against my spine, wishing that it was him holding me.
But, there are dreams that will never come true.
We are enemies. Rivals. He has the bitterest of hates for me, he despises how I look, how I speak, how I duel and live. He goes so far to compare me to a dog, a mutt, in fact. While it's true that I fight and can often appear torn and battered, I'm no dog. I have some pride, and loyalty, traits that only compare me further.
It drives me insane. The horrible oxymoron of love-hate, that horrible feeling in my stomach when it falls from insult, then soars from acknowledgment. Why? Why did I like him? Of all the thousands of people in the world, the millions I see walk by every day, why did this one take my eye? The object of my desire, my best friend's cousin.
If I had any chance with him it's destroyed by morals. Destroyed by the feeling of disgust my friend would feel, he would feel.
I watch as the door cracks open, my heart suddenly beating in my mouth, pounding at a sickening rate, causing my chest to tighten as he walks through the door.
My eyes narrow with hatred as our eyes meet.
'I see the mutt is waiting for his master.' His arrogance annoys me, I want to punch him, wipe the horrible smirk from his face,
'Up yours moneybags, I ain't a fuckin' dog n you know it!' I growl under my breath, his eyes widening slightly with amusement as he watches me reaction,
'Calm down, we don't want to have to buy a muzzle now, do we?'
'Go fuck yourself, ya bastard.' He rolls his eyes, sitting delicately down on his seat, my heart still pounding from our interaction. Slowly, I watch him unpack, revealing my sketchbook hidden beneath the work books. As he types, I take the graphite to the paper, tracing the lines of his jaw steadily.
I won't lie. I'm not an artist. I don't even draw well. But it's enough for me. It's enough to express my feelings, to get it all out of my system. I'd never admit to any of this crap, not for my life. I don't want a career in the business or anything like that. In fact, I don't even know what I want to be. I've considered helping people, but I'm too impatient and I don't have the brains to be a professional at anything anyway.
Maybe a soldier? Yeah. It seems kind of fun on all those games they make. I play them over at Yugi's. Pro duellist wouldn't be bad, but that title is taken by Yugi. Maybe a job in security? I don't know.
As I feel a shadow cast over my light, I look up to see the stoic CEO above me, with one eyebrow raised. I glance up, confused by his snarl, before following his eye line to the pad at my hands. At my finger tips, his face is half drawn yet still recognisable. Instantly I snap the book shut, hoping he hadn't registered enough information to know it was him.
'Aw, puppy likes to draw?' His eyes narrow in a malicious stare, causing my heart to tighten,
'Like hell Kaiba. It's my sister's book and I got carried away and started doodling,'
'Looks like fucking doodles mutt.'
'Well, that's all it is.
'You playing guard dog then, sister can't look after her own stuff?' He smiles lopsidedly, the darkness shrouding his expression,
'She's in fucking hospital, jerk, and I'm watching it to make sure that it stays safe while she's there.'
'Well aren't you noble.' He glances back to the book. 'If it's not yours, you won't mind me taking a look.' He leans over quickly, snatching the paper from my desk before I have time to react.
'I said it's my sisters, you bastard, what kind of freak are you?' I stand quickly, lunging to grab the book.
'Oh, I see it's important. Now I definitely have to see.' He holds the pages high above my head, opening the notebook to flick through, his eyes widening in victory. 'This isn't your sister's book, mutt.' He grins, lowering his hands. 'It's yours. No one else can see me from this angle. You have a crush on me, don't you?'
'Don't let your ego swell richboy, you just happen to be in my eye line.' I snapped back quickly, 'Besides, I'm no artist, and your simple to draw, just like your personality.'
'Well,' he shrugged, holding up the book again, my pulse racing, 'If it's of no value to you…' I watch as he tears the pad in two, my drawings, my dreams destroyed at his finger tips. I keep my face as straight as I can, uncaring and unnerved,
'Jeez, Kaiba, you need a shrink, you're always fucking tearing shit up, first the blue eyes, now this. I bet you dick is sore from you ripping at that every night.'
'Classy come back, mutt. At least I can get other people to rip at it for me.' With that comment, he turns on his heels and flows back to his seat, just as the bells rings. I look at my art on the floor, the crumpled paper and shredded lines. My heart sinks to new lows as I see the victorious gleam in his eyes from the computer.
My emotions.
My drawings.
They are the same. They lie at an all time low, defeated, destroyed and unfixable. Torn at the hands of Seto Kaiba.
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Hey
Another short oneshot for pure randomness.
I hope you like it,
Sort of onesided this time, a little like the tendreshipping I usually do,
Anyway,
Please
R&R
Much love
AB
x x x