DISCLAIMER! I DO NOT OWN Yu-Gi-Oh!, its characters, plots, or anything even remotely associated with it.
I've been gone for a while, huh?
Well don't fear [much], because I'm back.
Not much to say for this one except that it's not fluffly (yes, "fluffly") and it's a songfic (kinda :P) for Drake's "Take Care" ft. Rihanna that ended up spiraling out of control, creating this.
...
Enjoy?
Playing Pretend
The twenty-fifth of January should have been something to celebrate, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything more than offer a half-assed smile to anyone that bothered wishing him a happy birthday.
He wouldn't lie; he appreciated the thought put into the party and the fact that so many people cared, but he just couldn't be happy, even with all the people smiling and laughing and dancing in the grand ballroom decorated in golds and silvers just for the occasion.
Instead, he sat alone in the ballroom in his velvety "Chair of Honor," every so often taking an exaggerated and depressed swig straight from the bottle of wine he'd been choking at its neck.
He could see her across the room, dancing and smiling and laughing in the middle of a circle of drunk idiots.
If he squinted, he could pretend her smile was genuine... but he knew there was never any use in pretending.
"That's what gets us into messes like this in the first place, isn't it, Mai?" he whispered to himself, a small, sad smile making the corners of his maroon-tinged lips twitch up. "Pretending?"
Watching her throw away her energy on faux, saccharine smiles almost made him feel as bad for her as he did for himself, since she was the one actually rebuilding her walls.
He almost wanted to help.
Almost, he thought with a cold smirk, moving to stand before the familiar slow, crisp tapping of confident feet reached his ears and he slumped back down.
The brunette hosting the party—the blonde was still reeling that it was him of all people throwing the party, but figured that maybe he'd actually matured since high school—came to a stop next to him, one hand shoved deep within the pocket of his suits' pants, the other holding a glass of his own rich, maroon drink and let out a small scoff as he sipped arrogantly at his drink.
"I've never understood your attraction to her, Jounouchi," he stated quietly, swirling the liquid around in his glass a bit before looking down at the blonde slumped slightly in his chair. His gaze wasn't quite as frigid as normal, but it certainly wasn't ablaze with heat. "She's selfish and materialistic, and no offense, but you're not exactly growing money on trees," he pointed out, looking up at the girl once more.
Seto stood there silently for a few moments, mindful of his blonde companion's state as he waited for a response.
Katsuya nodded, openly agreeing with what could be observed with eyes alone, but he didn't correct the young CEO about just how wrong he really was; only he, himself knew what Kujaku Mai was really like on the inside, and Katsuya narrowed his eyes in contempt at the man who caused such feelings to rise in his love.
Angry.
He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration.
Insecure.
A heavy, empathetic sigh fell past his lips.
Hurt.
Jounouchi Katsuya closed his eyes for a moment, willing away the unwanted emotions bubbling inside before he spoke.
"Is that an attempt at flattery, Money Bags?" he asked, bringing an arm onto one of the rests and gently placing his chin in the palm of his hand. "I think we both know neither of us swings that way," he said quietly, never once letting his gaze leave the curvaceous blonde across the room.
Who invited her, again...? he wondered darkly, sighing once more as his brunette companion let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head in the negative. Right. I did, he remembered with a bitter smirk. At least she didn't bring 'him'.
"Not quite," the CEO admitted. "I'm just wondering what it is you see in her that you can't find anywhere else to move on," he revealed, putting his drink up to the light and inspecting it. "I mean... you two were a thing for a little bit after she came back, right?" he asked, looking down at the blonde next to him for a confirmation.
Said blonde nodded, a knowing smirk gracing his lips when he saw his love grow rigid as she finally realized she was being watched.
"'Til she dumped me for that biker," Katsuya droned. "What was his name...?" he wondered aloud, more out of courtesy than of actual interest.
"Honda?" the tall brunette joked sarcastically, more to break the awkward silence that had fallen over them than to get a rise out of the blonde; if he were honest, he'd never minded the blonde as much as he led on. Once he'd gotten over his own social barriers, he found that the blonde was quite a reliable young man and a better confidante, and they had grown close... but that's all they were.
Katsuya cracked a small smile.
"No offense to Hiroto, but she's way out of his league," he said with a small laugh.
They shared another small silence.
"And she's within yours?" the brunette inquired quietly, giving him a once over, unsure.
It was hard to tell whether the man was using sarcasm or if it was a genuine question, so Katsuya chose not to answer.
"I just wanna know what he did to her to make her like this..." Katsuya trailed, causing the brunette next to him to throw him a questioning glance.
Katsuya knew it was there, but he didn't answer; he knew the CEO wouldn't understand.
He doesn't see it, the blonde acknowledged. He doesn't know her like I do.
Katsuya let out a mental sigh of relief when the brunette finally shrugged and went off in some other direction after a few moments, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the second bottle of wine he'd been draining, trying to will away his now-painful arousal at the open-backed dress that stopped mid-thigh, the wedges giving her even more height, and the sun-blonde locks framing her face and sticking to her pale skin where her light sweat had dampened it.
He could feel his blood rushing south, and part of him welcomed it.
Her breath came in short, heavy gasps as he burrowed his way deep inside her.
He was elated that she'd finally agreed; contrary to the popular belief brought about by her wardrobe, she was actually quite "shy."
With a sudden gasp and cry of his name, she released, triggering his own since he had already been near his peak for so long, and he rode out the waves of his orgasm steadily before he fell beside her, finished, a sigh of content escaping his kiss-ridden lips.
He turned to the woman next to him and his expression of bliss was quickly replaced with a look of confusion.
He remembered the only thought that had been running through his mind, but nothing more.
'You're not Mai.'
It certainly wasn't the guilty part.
Finally, the blonde woman acknowledged the soft stare that had been bothering her and looked around, smile fading when she found the source.
His glare suddenly turned hateful without his permission and he couldn't help the thoughts that followed.
It's all her fault you're like this, Katsuya, he mentally berated himself. Show her what she's done to you.
No... he corrected, eyes widening a bit in realization of his own thoughts and looking away, unable to stand the hurt in her own violet orbs. It's not.
Are you sure?
He turned his gaze back, only to find that she'd disappeared. He could only assume she'd gone to lick her wounds and pretend nothing was wrong, and that everyone was giving her hateful glares because they knew she was the reason for the usually-jovial Katsuya's gloom.
I'm sure, he thought, standing with relatively little difficulty and slowly staggering away.
XxXxXxXxX
When she turned her gaze back to the spot he previously occupied, she was actually kind of surprised to find that he'd gone.
Her gaze darted over each head—Since when does Katsuya have so many people that care?—but she couldn't find him, so she looked to the balcony hanging over the magnificent garden of the Kaiba estate two stories below, only to find that it, too, was empty.
She looked over the crowd again, ignoring the looks of disgust given by some, and saw one of the two ornate double doors crack open just enough to let a man through, and close again.
Her eyes lit up hopefully and she made her way across the floor, avoiding anyone who looked like they would hurt her if she showed any sign of causing trouble.
As she neared the pair of doors near the end of the ballroom, she heard her name.
She didn't turn around because it wasn't being called; she turned around because it was said with contempt in a sentence.
Much to her dismay, though, she couldn't quite locate the voices in the crowd.
"That stupid Mai..." a male voice trailed. It was familiar, but she hadn't been around many of these people for months, so she couldn't be sure. "Why did she even come? Doesn't she realize what she did to him?" he asked, frustrated.
"Jou invited her," another familiar voice soothed. It was also a man. "And it's not her fault."
"I hate to agree with him, Yuugi," a girl—Probably Anzu, the blonde woman thought when she heard the name of the person being addressed—started quietly, "but it kinda is..." she trailed.
"And why would he invite her, anyways?" the first man—Honda?—inquired angrily. "He doesn't owe her anything! If anything, she owes him; even back in Duelist Kingdom, he didn't have to give her star chips back! Yuugi's chips were taken, too, and—"
"Easy, Hiroto," Yuugi soothed, confirming her suspicion. "That was so long ago, and it wouldn't be fair."
Hiroto growled in frustration, but relented, and the topic changed to what gifts they'd gotten the blonde of honor.
She slowly made her way out of the room and sighed.
They're right. He doesn't owe me anything, she thought darkly. I brought this on myself.
She let out a heavy sigh and sank down against the wall, finding little comfort in the joyous sounds on the other side.
I don't deserve him.
XxXxXxXxX
He wouldn't lie, even in his drunken state; he was still head-over-heels for the worthy-to-be-called-a-super-model Kujaku Mai, and he knew that they both knew that she was the same for him, but he could never forgive her for what she'd done.
It wasn't the fact that she brutally dumped him in front of all their friends—now his friends—or that she admitted that she'd only done so because the biker had an extremely well-paying job; those were all but petty in light of her greatest sin against him.
The fragile organ beating within him had been metaphorically ripped out, stomped on, hastily sewn together, and thrown back in the lifeless cavern now representing his chest.
She broke his heart, and as much as he wanted to forgive her—as much as he wanted to feel her pale, smooth flesh against his once more as they lay panting in the throngs of ecstasy, turn to her and let her see the pure, raw, untainted affection in his eyes—he couldn't.
Even he couldn't forgive such a crime.
He let out a sigh as he fell back on the bed in one of the many guest rooms the owner of the mansion had lent out for the night and looked up at the blank ceiling, a sad smile adorning his maroon-tinged lips.
But at least I can play pretend for the moment, he thought dimly, turning on his side to leave the bottle of wine on the nightstand. I can pretend none of it ever happened.
He nodded to himself, letting his heavy lids fall.
I can pretend you never told me you loved me...
He stretched his jaws wide in a yawn before curling up deeper into himself.
...and that you didn't leave the next day.
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Stay Fabulous~! :D