At his grandfather's funeral, Yuugi didn't shed a tear. He kept putting on a faint smile that worried even Kaiba. His tears and sadness would keep his grandpa from ascending to heaven, or so his grandmother taught him when he was little. He didn't want that, so he didn't cry. He tried to comfort his mother and father with words, and Atem comforted him later with hugs and kisses because only he knew of the pain Yuugi was holding in.
He didn't cry when his father passed away either, partly because he wasn't at the acceptable age to cry anymore. He said the same thing about a peaceful passing. His mother cried her heart out. She finally calmed down and stopped crying when he wrapped her in a hug. Atem didn't know how to comfort Yuugi this time, because he didn't remember how his father passed away, and moreover he didn't understand Yuugi's love for his father who was never home. He held Yuugi until he went to sleep that night.
Yuugi wasn't at home when his mother died. He was attending Anzu's daughter's piano recital in Kyoto. She went to sleep one night and never woke up. As the only son and family member, society didn't allow him to cry, at least until the funeral was over. There were faint whispers of how he was too young, just barely in his thirties, and how a woman should have been by his side at these times. Atem held his hand throughout the ceremony and never let go until Yuugi had to stand up, his legs deep asleep from having to sit on his knees. He went with Yuugi to look at houses and gave his opinions on furniture when they moved in a new, small apartment that situated a little too far from his old house, which was demolished shortly after to make place for a new building.
Kaiba's house had too many people that day, but only a few actually went to pay respect. Yuugi tried his best to comfort Mokuba. He even went to do the reception in his stead when the young boy's fragile heart couldn't take another sorry from strangers whose names he didn't even care to remember. He stopped his friends when they started discussing the possible outcomes of Mokuba's decisions regarding the company, and said that it was Mokuba's responsibility to decide that and they should let him mourn in peace first. Atem agreed with Yuugi on that one. He was pretty sure he never had time to mourn when he had to take over his kingdom, a structure much larger than Kaiba Corp. He still wished Mokuba wouldn't walk in the same shoes of his brother who realized he needed rest a little too late.
As years passed, Yuugi sent his friends and families away with a calm face, and so did Atem. He himself knew no heaven nor hell. He only knew of the void he experienced for what seemed like an eternity before he met Yuugi. He vaguely remembered Mahad's teachings about the judgment of the Gods before passing to the other field, but he never believed in it, not even when he almost came close to experience it. Death seemed like such a familiar yet strange thing to him now that he had met it face to face, conquered it only to face it again and then once more escaped it. He never feared death. Yuugi, however, dreaded it. Atem knew this because for each day Yuugi woke up finding a new gray hair on his messy head, his heart sank lower. Atem knew this because for each day that passed Yuugi would stared at him a little longer in the morning before he went to work, and at night before they went to sleep. Atem knew this because he himself could felt Yuugi's dark thoughts slowly invading his mind. Nevertheless, he chose to pretend he noticed nothing and kissed Yuugi as usual when he felt himself being stared at.
The day Yuugi came home exhausted after sending away his best friend in the world, he asked Yuugi if he feared his own death. Yuugi didn't answer him. He asked again one more time, and Yuugi still didn't answer. He didn't ask again. Yuugi didn't answer until they went to bed. Yuugi did fear death, but he didn't fear the idea of him passing away, but rather, what would happen when he passed away. Atem knew what he meant. He wrapped Yuugi in his arms, now too short to envelope his other self's entire body like he used to, and assured Yuugi that no matter what happened he would be with him until the end. It was something they said to each other every day, so much that it somehow became a routine. A routine that neither of them got bored of. Yuugi fell asleep in the safety of his arms. He believed it.
The last twenty-two days of Yuugi's life in the hospital were too short for Atem. He stayed with him in his white bed, catered to his every need, kissed him before every check-up visit and told him everything would be alright. Five times Yuugi thought he wouldn't make it, Atem held his hand firmly and sent a wish to every deity whose name he remembered to keep him going, to not take him yet and allow them at least another day together. Every time Yuugi woke up, he smiled and Atem kissed his eyes, hoping for them to never stay closed for too long ever again.
The day Atem felt his existence fading away, Yuugi cried. For the first time he cried at the face of death. For the first time he mourned with tears. It started with a few sniffles, then he started sobbing, and finally, he wailed out loud. The nurse's attempts to calm him down were in vain. She finally gave up and left him be when he came back to just sniffling in his sleep. Atem could feel his old friend waiting outside the hospital room, anxious to take another soul away. He knew he couldn't afford to waste any moment. He took Yuugi's hand at the same time as Yuugi reached for his. He held it close to his heart and whisper sweet words to sooth Yuugi's sobbing. When Yuugi finally calmed down, he told him there was nothing to fear, that they would be fine, that death was just another phase of life. But, Yuugi protested, if he died then Atem would – and Atem cut him off before he could say it, with a kiss as gentle as always.
"Shh. I'm still with you. And you're with me. Always."
"Always?"
"Always."
They spent their last seconds together holding hands and whisper "always" to each other, and in their minds they believed the same.
The nurse immediately bolted out the door the second she noticed the old man not breathing anymore. Doctors rushed into the room, along with an old woman who was supposedly the patient's best friend on a visit. It was too late, they said as the woman broke down crying. Families and friends received news of his passing and were invited to his funeral, which took place in a small house in the suburbs. A week after the old man's discharge from the hospital to the afterlife, the nurse that took care of him was asked by another nurse about the cries they heard in his room the day he died. She was hesitant for a second because she herself wasn't sure about what happened to him.
"Maybe he knew his time has come. Old people do that. "
"No, I don't think so. The cries were loud and miserable, they were cries of sorrow. Like when you – like when we lose something we hold dear". It was as if… "It was as if he was mourning for someone else."