That annoying, worrisome feeling in Yami's gut will not go away.
It gnaws and it gnaws until it chews its way up his stomach and into his brain that feels mushed up and wrong, as if it's soggy bread in soup.
Digging his long nails into his scalp, Yami hisses low and long, trying to drive the feeling out with pain.
A new rush of unwanted adrenaline courses through his system at the sensation.
He shudders roughly, nails pressing harder.
The feeling has been nagging him ever since his eyes fell on the stone tablet days ago, on the grand pharaoh and priest facing each other in a holy duel.
( till now, he doesn't understand the sorrow that crashed into him like waves upon sighting the tablet, doesn't understand why he feels like he's gasping for air even days after.
desperately mouthing the words he cannot read, what feels like tears prickling in the corner of his wide eyes.
arms locked by his side. something in him screams to reach out to the priest with such sad eyes, to the pharaoh with a pained frown.
"it is his oath to the pharaoh, an eternal oath of friendship"
"no," he wanted to gasp, but his mouth stayed glued and his tongue a deadweight, "no, it wasn't just that. there was more,
wasn't there?" )
Yugi's worried voice drifts through their mental link, concerns and requests for him to "breathe, just breathe"
(but how, how?)
His legs begin moving long before his mind cranks it's gears to start keeping up.
Mouthing unfamiliar words repeatedly, nothing making sense, no comfort being found.
(why not? why, not?)
Eyes he doesn't remember, he cannot remember, haunting him.
(they were blue, bluer than the sky,
"they're like oceans, ████"
an amused smile.
"but you've never seen one, ████ " )
Down the corridor, further, further.
Panting, eyes wide and watery. Yami clutches the front of his shirt, right where his heart lies buried under flesh and bone, where it beats without a rhythm, bruising ribs.
Three sharp knocks.
The metallic door slides open soundlessly, his long time destined rival looming before him.
An eyebrow raised.
Steps aside to let the shorter man in, door barely scraping the back of his heel as it snaps shut once more.
Seto looks affronted, but when does he not?
(silk sheets and wine, grapes and ocean eyes,
vulnerable, shy, tender smiles)
Deafening silence. A second, another, and another. No clock keeps time, only the impatient tapping of Seto's finger against his crossed arms.
Just before the brunette can kick Yami out, he steps forward, shakily, uncertain. Arms outstretched, hands reaching up and cupping air. Unable to look away from glossy lips.
"Can i- Can i-," he says, then seems to think better. Drops his hands, curling into fists. Pretends he didn't stutter, pretends that he knows what he's doing.
A sigh, peeling the brunette's lips apart.
Seto bends over, enveloping a fist with his hand. It is cold, lax. There's no comfort here, either.
Answers Yami with a firm press of lips against lips.
Nothing else.
But Yami presses back feverishly, kissing and yearning and wanting, pushed by a feeling he cannot describe, by a feeling he doesn't even know if it belongs to him. Twists his hands into the fabric of Seto's shirt, demanding, begging, a response.
(squeezes his eyes shut and tries to remember what he's lost. tries to remember ocean eyes and shy smiles and laughter crisp like the wind.)
Yet Seto stays stock still for the whole minute their lips rest against one another's, like a statue.
Seto is the first to break away, dropping Yami's hand immediately after. Eyes blank, emotionless. As if he didn't just share a kiss with his sworn rival.
Peering into eyes that are bluer than clear summer skies, Yami's heart aches with the lack of sensation of saltwater filled lungs.
He's driven speechless, not knowing what he set out to achieve, what he hoped to achieve.
He wonders if he's gained anything, if he's lost anything.
If the pounding in his head would go away if he just - just kissed Seto one more time.
Silence douses the room once more.
At last, Seto speaks. Curtly and icily.
"That kiss was a one time thing. If I hadn't done that, you would have half assed the semifinals in favour of moping around, and I doubt anyone aboard this blimp will hesitate at wiping the floor with you if given the chance. That person will be me, so I can't afford you screwing up in the semifinals.
An irritated sigh.
"Listen. I don't know what you're looking for Yugi. But if you're hoping to find it in me, i'm telling you, you won't. Get your act together."
Seto pauses a moment to allow his words to sink in.
The grip on his shirt loosens,
("i could still drown in them."
a raised eyebrow.
"do you, now?"
a kiss, fleeting.
"all the time")
lets go.
Sucking in a deep breath, Yami nods, turns and walks out the room. Doesn't look back. Scrubs his tired eyes with the heel of his palms.
Heart throbbing and mind in a turmoil with memories that don't belong to him, not anymore.
(he remembers hazily,
ocean eyes to drown pleasantly in habitually, ears that burn hot from lazy kisses and hushed promises.
he feels, recognises,
nothing.)
A/N: this is supposed to be implied scandalshipping and not so much of prideshipping tbh!
this fic was supposed to be atem's soul(and memories) trying to reach out to set's soul through yami, but all yami gets is headaches and confusion and Suffering. bc he doesnt love seto so its like...his antagonism w seto constantly conflicting with atem's love for set. yea? i hope i translated this well in my fic /lies down