Bang, a yu-gi-oh fanfic

Left on an eastbound train, gone first thing this morning
Why's what's best for you, always the worst thing for me

Jounouchi Katsuya, blonde fifteen-year-old duelist, who had just woken up in someone else's house, in that very person's bed, stared blankly at the note in his hands. His lover, since he couldn't be classified as anything else, far from his 'boyfriend,' and even less so his 'love', as usual, had left for some reason or another. He was probably all the way in Osaka by now, and it wasn't something that surprised the teenager much.

It's not as though the tall brunet cared about him.

When am I gonna learn? Why? Cause I'm tired of hating
When will it be your turn? Why? Cause I'm tired of waiting

He shook his head to clear his mind, crumpling the paper in his fist and dumping it in the wastebasket nearby, beginning to look around the room for his discarded clothes. He decided to steal the missing teen's favorite boxers, since he would rather not wear those he had yesterday, and the man deserved it anyway. He sighed audibly when he noted they were not in the drawer. Said brunet man had most evidently taken them for himself.

The blonde shook his head again, this time to dispel the feeling of despair that washed over him. It wasn't a rare thing, so…

He chewed on his tongue, going through one of those moments when you just didn't want to open your mouth, as though his lips had been sealed together. Forgoing brushing his teeth, he skipped strait downstairs and out the door, wondering whether or not he was supposed to wake the teen's little brother for him. It didn't matter, really.

Why was it the brunet always expected him to stay there like a good little housewife or something? He was neither a housewife nor- nor good enough for the corporate executive anyway.

He wanted just one day- one day where he would go and leave the man behind, where he would force the businessman to deal with his absence. He thought, retrospectively, that he probably wouldn't notice till it came to about three in the morning when he usually woke the blonde up so he could do whatever the hell he wanted at the time, which ranged from making the shorter boy fix him a sandwich to tossing him outside in the middle of the night and whining cruelly about how his bed smelled like dander now.

No I don't, no I don't, no I don't
Well no I don't find faith in your forced feelings

Not fooled by your misleading
Won't buy this line your selling
Tired of this lie your telling
I won't, I don't, no I won't do this anymore
I won't, I don't, no I won't do this anymore

He remembered a while ago when he had been crying, and the man had carefully moved in front of him and cupped his chin and told him how much he loved him, and had whipped his tears, and kissed his cheeks tenderly; and in an instant he had changed entirely and he was pushing the blonde over onto his back and being rough and dangerous and the blonde, who was truly, deeply in love had been totally lost… until he realized later that night just what had happened.

She says I'm only tellin' half of it
That's probably coz there's only half worth tellin'

He had wound up the next day talking to his best friend's childhood friend and crush when she cornered him, asking him about his 'hidden' relationship with the cold brunet. He had told her about the first part, but entirely skipped what happened afterwards, and about how he had collapsed into tears halfway, and the man had done nothing but laugh at him and continue.

She was obviously certain that he was hiding something from her, but he simply smiled and left- the bell had rung, and they were back in their seats.

And every time I try to laugh it off
That's when you turn around and wind up yellin'

Being as utterly in love as he was, he often tried to tell himself that it was nothing, that his lover just wasn't sure how to show emotion properly, that he indeed felt something for him and it only seemed that the apparently-sadist teen was only using him.

At the point he finally convinced him of this, legs pulled against his chest with his shoes on the couch, cheek against his knees, small quiet smile on his lips, his lover would grab his arm and scream at him for getting the expensive leather dirty, and about how it was his fault the stock had gone down because he demanded too much attention, and always wound up several hours later with the blond weeping on the floor with a swelling ankle, littered with bruises and scratches, lip split, breathing shallow and choppy, wondering how the hell it was possible for his lover to hurt him more than his father could in his worst drunken rage.

When am I gonna learn? Why? Cause I'm tired of hating
When will it be your turn? Why? Cause I'm tired of waiting

And it was so stupid, so pointless of him to keep trying, to keep sitting around and waiting for the man to change, to come back, to realize what he was doing.

The blonde came out of memory lane just long enough to realize that it was about to rain and he was still walking in the insanely-rich district, and that the mansion he had left was the closest shelter he could hope to reach. So he began to trek back to the hated place.

No I don't, no I don't, no I don't
No I don't find faith in your forced feelings
Not fooled by your misleadings
Won't buy this line your selling
Tired of this lie your telling
I won't, I don't no I won't do this anymore
I won't, I don't no I won't do this anymore

He had stopped pretending everything was fine a while ago, and found himself too tired to be shocked when his friends didn't notice the dark circles under his eyes, except perhaps the same girl that had cornered him before, but after a short begging session with the blonde, she didn't say anything to the brunet that was destroying his life.

The dancer had told her by-now boyfriend, his afore-mentioned best friend (and his darker half, but they both loved the girl and each other, and she loved them, so they found themselves in a convenient three-way, seeing as the two boys shared the same body.) The two alter-egos had merely reassured her, in turn, that she was only imagining things, and that he would never let that 'bastard, Kaiba' get him down.

She says I'm only tellin' half of it
That's probably coz there's only half worth tellin'

She had given up on getting them, or the blonde's other closest friend, to realize what was going on and talked to him instead. He had, as usual, told her nothing but the happy parts, carefully editing the stories. She knew even more now that he was denying the situation, especially after the fright and desperation she had seen in his eyes when she told him she would speak to the CEO.

But she trusted he knew what he was doing, after sternly having made him promise that he would come to her with any problems. As much as he didn't want to be one that broke such important things, he had merely convinced himself that what she meant was something 'serious,' and that what was going on wasn't quite as serious as that.

And every time I try to laugh it off
That's when you turn around and wind up yellin'

He had barely been able to tell himself it wasn't 'serious' when he had wound up sprawled outside during a lightning storm, an arm popped out of its socket and with the remnants of a blow to the head so hard dark blood was draining out of the back of his skull.

He had, finally, managed to convince himself the incident was just stress-induced when the man returned an hour later with the full KaibaCorp medical team behind him.

When am I gonna learn? Why? Cause I'm tired of hating
When will it be your turn? Why? Cause I'm tired of waiting

He had failed, at the time, to remember that the brunet obviously would have been in for murder, and have been charged as an adult if he would have let the smaller blonde die.

But the blonde persisted in keeping the episode from the girl.

But there was only so long someone could take all that. He was truly at the end of his line.

And the brunet was gone again.

The note had said, 'Make something for Mokuba and get out of my house.'

The blonde teenager opened his mouth for the first time that day.

"I need a gun."