Yami should've known not to come to the exhibit.
He could have been lazing comfortably on his couch at his apartment, in sweats and shirtless, phone cradled between his ear and shoulder while he ordered take-out from Burger World and looked over his cards. The Duel Monsters tournament would be taking place in just a week, giving him very little time to prepare strategies and build his deck.
Instead, he had decided to reacquaint himself with his past. A past that involved physical abuse, emotional trauma, and mental issues that Yami knew he would carry for the rest of his life.
"Eh, Yams, you doing okay buddy? You seem a little tense."
Yami's eyes didn't stray from the Egyptian hieroglyphics, though he responded to his friend beside him, "I'm fine, Jou. This place just…reminds me of home." If a psychotic cult living in dark Egyptian tombs with no interaction to the outside world counts as a 'home'.
Despite his dark thoughts, he remained stoic even as Jounouchi patted his shoulder in sympathy.
"Hey man, don't worry so much. This stuff's a bunch of mumbo jumbo anyways."
Yami snorted. "Then why are we here?"
"Because!" Jou exclaimed in excitement, "Even if it ain't real, it's still really cool! D'ya hear that tour guide blabberin' about magic and curses and stuff?" He rubbed his hands together, almost like a child preparing to open a Christmas gift. "Man, I bet they have mummies somewhere…"
A slight frown crossed Yami's face, but Jou had already bounded ahead to look at the next showcase of artifacts.
Part of him felt tempted to leave. Everything here caused memories from his past to resurface: the hieroglyphics, the carvings, the translated folklore of all the Egyptian legends. His parents and cult members had drilled this type of information in his brain, and he had grown up his entire life seeing only fire-lit passages of carved symbols and witnessing strange, eerie blood rituals and summonings. Seeing it all again gave him an unpleasant, nauseating sensation.
The other part of him knew that Jou lived for ghost stories and bizarre myths. If Jou was left unsupervised for too long, no doubt his friend would get into some sort of trouble and Yami would have to bust him out of the situation anyway.
Sighing, Yami reluctantly moved towards the room he last saw the blonde run into. Jou had done a lot for him—so much that Yami would forever be in his debt. After Jou had invited Yami into his home, enrolled him in school, and empowered him to create a new life—the least he owed Jou was accompanying him on a one-day museum trip. Their other friends couldn't have joined: Honda hated museums and Anzu believed in too many superstitions.
Looking up ahead, he could make out Jou pressed against a glass case, gazing at a large, ancient stone tablet. As the distance lessened between them, Yami could better see the runes and pictures carved on the rock.
He had seen them before.
"Yami…" Jou muttered lowly, eyes not leaving the artifact. "That dude on the rock…he looks just like you…"
Yami nodded. "So he does."
Jou glanced between the stone tablet and Yami a few times. His eyes scrunched together, and Yami could practically hear the gears turning in his brain.
Jou asked curiously, "Didn't you come from some Egyptian tomb thingy?"
Yami chose not to answer, instead staring impassively at the carving of the pharaoh. He knew they looked alike; as a child, his parents had constantly pointed out the similarities between the two, telling him on a daily basis the story of the Nameless Pharaoh. A pharaoh that, supposedly, Yami was the reincarnation of. The spiky, tri-colored hair gave the resemblance away—helped by the similar muscular build, height, and facial structure.
"—ami?" Jou's voice filtered through his mind. "You're zonin' out."
"Just thinking," Yami assured.
Jou didn't know the extent of Yami's issues with his past, and Yami preferred to keep it as such. He had decided to completely disregard that aspect of his life a long time ago in order to keep it from interfering with the potential of his future. Yami Atemu was not Pharaoh Atem. Yami Atemu did not belong to a crazed, delusional cult. Yami Atemu could and would break free of the life he was born into, and create one of his own.
Lips pursed, Jou glanced at Yami worriedly. "If you say so." The blonde's gaze lingered on Yami's doppelganger briefly before moving onto a different section of the museum. Yami followed him, hating this Ra-forsaken trip more time passed by.
They explored various other rooms, some with legend depictions, others with physical runes or artifacts found on Egyptian dig sites. Flashbacks flitted across the front of Yami's mind on occasion, but the bronze-skinned man pushed the thoughts back and distracted himself by conversing with Jou. Everything had been going somewhat well until they entered the room with the Millennium Items.
Yami froze immediately upon noticing them. The Eye of Ra stared mockingly at him, as if rubbing in his face the awful memories he had been trying so hard to forget. The seven various items comprised of real gold, their shiny surfaces still unmarred even after millennia had already passed.
Most of the visitors only paid attention to the glitter of expensive gold, captivated by its authenticity, but the gold did not interest Yami. He felt more concerned about the darkness that danced along the sharp edges—pieces of shadows that seemed to move if you stared at the items long enough. He knew these items very well; numerous legends circulated around them, none of them pleasant in the least.
Lost in thought, Yami didn't notice a stranger walk up right beside him.
The newcomer murmured, "Fascinating, aren't they?"
"Huh," Yami whipped to his left, openly staring at the person who—
—who…looked just like…him…
Wearing a tour guide's uniform, the person from the carving had come to life, casually standing next to Yami as if it was the most normal occurrence in the world.
Yami blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. The come-to-life carving remained. Fantastic. Another hallucination.
Though he had been more prone to them during high school and the episodes had lessened over the years, illusions were a rare, but not unexpected, situation in Yami's life. The worst of them had materialized when Yami first ran away from the cult. Sometimes he would detect shadows in motion, coming to life and following or attacking bystanders. Other times he witnessed Duel Monsters exit from a portal and walk among the Earth, either observing the world or performing some sort of magic spell. His psychologist had guessed the visuals to stem from his PTSD, and gave explicit details on how to try to cope with his imaginings. As long as he ignored it and blocked all his emotions, the image would eventually dissipate—
"Sir, are you all right?" The younger boy who could have passed for his twin frowned in concern. "You seem dizzy."
Yami's mouth opened and closed a few times, before he caught himself floundering. Right. Hallucination. It was just a very realistic-looking daydream. Engaging with it would accomplish nothing; Yami simply needed to remove himself from the situation and then—
The boy, who looked so disturbingly similar to him, touched his hand. A strange, alien warmth bolted up his arm, and Yami heard a strange click reverberate in the room.
Pharaoh, I do believe we need to talk.
He jerked away from the other's hold, raggedly panting as his eyes widened in shock. The boy. He spoke. But not out loud. His lips hadn't moved, but Yami had clearly heard his voice. Yami closed his eyes tightly in an attempt to block out the figment of his imagination. This wouldn't be the first time one of his hallucinations became disturbingly lifelike.
"Phar—Yami. I need you to calm down."
Oh God, he—no, it—was still here, staring at Yami with massive, purple eyes. Hallucinations never lasted this long, nor did they ever physically manifest and touch Yami. Something was wrong. Something was alarmingly, horribly wrong—
The boy huffed in annoyance. "Are you even listening to me? It's quite rude to pretend as if I don't even exist."
Rather than acknowledge the illusion, Yami briskly walked away, seeking out the one who dragged him there to begin with. Fast footsteps sounded from right behind him, and somehow Yami knew the not-real boy was tailing him. He needed an interference. Someone who could brush the illusion away and bring him back to reality. Ra damn it where was fucking Jounouchi Katsuya when his presence was actually needed?
Yami heard a scuffle behind him, two voices simultaneously apologizing and crying out in surprise.
"I'm so sorry-"
"I didn't mean to-"
Wait. He knew that voice. Yami halted and swiveled around.
Sure enough, Jou and the hallucination were both sitting on the ground, giving one another apologetic looks. Which didn't make any fucking sense, because the boy was part of Yami's imagination, not Jounouchi's. The only possible way the boy could have physically bumped into Jou would be if—
Nausea that Yami had been battling since he first stepped into the museum threatened to overcome his self-control. His throat went dry, and despite the need to say something Yami didn't have any intelligent words to utter.
Jou and the boy helped each other up, exchanging apologies once again. Yami saw Jou's eyes widen in surprise, intently observing the hallucination's face. Before the boy could turn to face him, Yami clenched onto Jou's arm and abruptly plucked his friend away in the opposite direction.
"Dude!" Jou protested, a whine in the back of his throat, "What are you doing?"
"Shut up!" Yami barked, without altering his speedy progression towards the exit. He knew his friend struggled to keep pace with him, but he desperately needed to leave. This cursed museum had been a bad omen from the start. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He should've stayed home and avoided this situation altogether.
If there were any benefits to this visit, it was that Yami now knew he needed to see a therapist. Soon. Very, very soon.
Gods, he never thought he would actually go insane one day. Didn't studies say insanity popped in during early adulthood? Yami had just turned 20, perhaps the mental illness finally kicked in. Given his trauma and visits with his psychologist, he had known insanity to be a possibility. Loathe as he was to admit it, it made sense.
The arm he had dragged behind him escaped from his iron grip, effectively shutting down the mental tangent Yami started. Jou jumped in front of Yami, holding him by the shoulders in a steadying motion. The earnest concern in his eyes stopped Yami from exploding on him.
"Yami," Jou stated, uncharacteristically serious, "talk to me. Somethin's up, and you're not spilling. Spill."
Spill what? His mess of emotions? The truth about his shitty past? Stories about his hallucinations?
Jou must have noticed his inner turmoil, because he suddenly backed off of Yami and released a sigh. "I don't know what's up with you man, but whatever it is, you owe me an explanation."
Numbly, Yami nodded.
"Was that kid I bumped into related to you?"
Silence.
Jou sighed again. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence he mumbled, "Let's head out."
More beautiful words could not have been spoken.
Hours after the incident at the museum, Yami found himself completely content and relaxed at his apartment, sipping on a glass of wine while his friends bickered about the sports game on television in the next room over. Thank the Gods for being a lightweight—the more alcohol affected him, the quicker the warm lethargy flowed through his system, allowing him to forget about his worries and the events of the day.
Anzu walked into the kitchen, an empty glass in her hand. Though nowhere near drunk, Yami could see the bit of blankness in her eyes, indicating how buzzed she must have been.
"Their arguing is annoying me," she said to him, gesturing behind her. "And they're trying to get me to give up my pizza."
Yami chuckled, a small smile tugging at his lips. "No matter how many pies I order, they're never satisfied."
She rolled her blue eyes, an exasperated expression on her face. "Being around them, it's a wonder you're gay."
Anzu paused, curiosity lighting in her eyes. "Wait, have you ever…"
"Please don't finish that thought," Yami pleaded, unable to repress a disgusted shudder. As much as he cared for his two friends, and in spite of his sexuality, the thought of being romantically involved with either of them was disturbing enough to be considered nightmare material.
The only female of their little friend group laughed at his discomfort, and patted him sympathetically on his shoulder. "Sorry for mentally scarring you."
"Honda, what the freak, where's my last slice?"
"You just ate it, fat-ass!"
"Fat? You kiddin' me, I just worked out yesterday—"
"For five seconds while you walked up the stairs to your apartment?"
Yami and Anzu shared a pointed look before groaning together.
"As someone who's known them since grade school, I still don't get how they remain friends."
"I think the bigger question is why we still hang around them."
Anzu adopted a very serious look before responding, "That is very true."
Deciding that Jou and Honda had been left alone for too long, Yami strolled into the living room. Immediately, he noticed the crumbs all over the beige carpet that he'd have to clean up later. Next to that, he also noticed the outright furious looks on both the boys' faces, making him feel as though he'd just interrupted World War III.
Clearing his throat, Yami stated amid the tense silence of the room, "You know guys, I would really much prefer you not breaking my furniture again."
That seemed to break the spell, as both of his friends pouted and looked away from each other. A couple of grumbled insults floated between them, but Yami paid the squabble no attention. Doing so would only rouse them more.
"Who's winning?" he inquired, plopping on the couch.
"The game hasn't started yet," Jou answered, sipping on his soda.
Yami blinked. "Then what were you two arguing about before?"
The second he finished the sentence, he instantly regretted mentioning the argument so soon. His two friends jumped up, restarting their shouting match and complaining about which team had the best chances of winning. Yami massaged his forehead, a slight pressure beginning to form at his temple.
At that moment, the doorbell chimed. After mentally sending a gracious 'Thank you' to the Gods, Yami stood up hastily. "I'll be right back", he addressed the group, before walking downstairs to the front door of the apartment.
Given his somewhat tipsy state, the Egyptian didn't even consider checking to confirm there was no intruder on the other side. Without a second thought, he casually pulled open the door.
The sight that greeted Yami almost made him vomit his dinner.
"Hello!" the hallucination from earlier greeted in a bubbly tone, "I think there was a misunderstanding before when we met at the museum. May I come in?"
In contrast to the boy's enthusiasm, Yami's face darkened and his body tensed. He should have slammed the door. Just like how he should have distanced himself from the museum, he should have slam the door, return upstairs, and act as though the doorbell had never rung.
But Yami had a sinking feeling that this hallucination...perhaps wasn't a hallucination at all. His delusions, no matter how realistic, never repeated themselves. Granted this could be a sign of Yami's mental instability evolving, there was also Jou's physical interaction with the kid to consider. As far as Yami knew, Jou wasn't diagnosed with some sort of mental disorder. Meaning that this...whatever he or it was...existed in reality.
"Who are you?" Yami demanded, at the cusp of frustration.
The odd stranger smiled brightly, causing a strange feeling that Yami didn't inspect too closely to rise in his chest.
"Yugi Motou. I'm the other half of your soul, Pharaoh. I'm your Hikari."
Post-Chapter Notes: Following canon, Yami is typically the all-knowing spirit in most Puzzleshipping stories, randomly appearing in Yugi's life and unloading all this magical crap on Yugi.
I wanted to change things up a bit.
I've never written a Puzzleshipping fic before. Heck, a few years ago, I didn't even know what Puzzleshipping was. I clicked around a little bit, got curious, came across a well-written, plot-filled smut story between Yugi and Yami and BAM. I'm hooked on a pairing of a show I barely understood as a child. Weird how things work out like that.
I admit that I didn't put too much effort into proofreading or editing. Please, should you have any constructive criticism, leave a review. Working two jobs leaves me tired and unable to catch a lot of my errors and awkwardly-worded sentences.