Misdiagnosed.
And.
Angst-filled.
"It seems you have athletically induced asthma," the doctor pronounces sharply, staring down at his pad casually. He looks up, and smiles widely. "This isn't very hard to overcome, really. Just try to not try to hard when you exercise."
Kaiba Seto still is a somewhat unsure, but he doesn't comment. The strange chest pains he's been having at night. The loud drum beats in his ears. It didn't sound like 'athletically induced asthma.' Sure, he'd nearly stopped breathing after a workout at his gym, but-
The doctor knew best, he decides. Well, possibly not, but he's the best doctor money can buy, and knows better than the technologically centered Seto. Anyway, he has no time for frivolities like these. He has a business to run. Sales have been begging for a new product, and he's been racking his brains for something novel.
He nods to whatever useless knowledge the doctor is spouting, and agrees to take all the drugs he's handing him. Perhaps a new sort of virtual pet? Aiming for the younger crowd would never hurt. The video-game ravaged teenagers will not leave him for a long while yet.
When he arrives home, he's still cleaning up some of the details about the virtual pet idea. He just needs to lock himself in his room for a few hours and write up the ideas. He makes an attempt to wave away a worried Mokuba, but for once Mokuba is tired of being tossed aside like a bit of old meat.
"Seto! You stopped breathing, you've got to tell me what the doctor told you!" His eyes are anxious and Seto finds himself pausing to talk to him. Mokuba is the only who can fix his eyes on him and actually force him to do something when he's brainstorming.
Well, his puppy's eyes make him want to do something but that's not the point-
"I've got some asthma thing, it's okay." He tosses his little brother the bag with the pill bottles in it. "I'll take some these and I'll be fine. No extraneous exercise." He begins striding once more towards the stairs that lead to his room. "Put those in first upstairs bathroom, please," Seto shoots back as he walks up the stairs, leaving his younger brother standing there, a bag in his arms and a frightened glint in his eyes.
Jounouchi Katsuya stares searchingly at the screen in front of him. Lack of breathe, he'd entered in the search bar, but was immediately confronted with a huge, degrading message- Did you mean breath ? Okay, so maybe he had meant breath. It was a typo. A typo.
Okay, okay, focus on the results, Katsuya scolds himself. It's not like anyone's studying his typing skills, or anything.
"You don't even know how to spell breath?" a teasing voice standing behind him spitefully states. But then, as if to make up for it, a head is laid on top of Katsuya's and arms are hung over his shoulders. If it had been anyone but him, Katsuya would have been annoyed. Well, he was still annoyed, but this way he could use it to his own advantage.
"I can totally spell breath, bastard. You're just being mean." He pouts, knowing that the other won't see it anyway. He minimizes the window on the screen, and turns in his seat to stare up at the visitor.
He looks down at Katsuya in a slightly condescending sort of way, but Katsuya is so accustomed to it that he no longer cares. He grins up at the lovely blue eyes that are looking down at him.
"But I love being an asshole to you," he replies smoothly, and presses his lips to Katsuya's lightly and briefly. Katsuya feels a slight giggle rise in his throat, but he pushes it back. He wants to enjoy this as much as possible. He never gets to kiss Seto in school, because of the whole—you know, the thing.
Katsuya doubts the school would be especially pleased at their—what exactly do they have? Kaiba Seto may be a spectacular kisser, as Katsuya can testify to that this very moment, but he's not one to talk about things. Is Katsuya just a little game for him? He doesn't mind the possibility that this could simply be a fling as much as the fact it could be a game for Seto. Katsuya has found he hates nothing more than people playing with him.
He's not a puppy, and he hopes Seto does not see him as one, no matter what he calls Katsuya. At last Seto pulls away, and ruffles his lover's hair tenderly. Katsuya is about to respond with a witty comeback when Seto grabs his chest, and grunts, turning his back to Katsuya.
"What's wrong?" Katsuya pushes his chair back as he stands up, and approaches Seto apprehensively. As he expected, Seto shrugs his hands away from his shoulders when Katsuya tries to comfort him. "I'm fine," he rasps, taking a step away from Katsuya.
"What did the doctor say about what happened yesterday?" Katsuya asks, guilty he hadn't asked before. He keeps his distance as he speaks, and hopes no one will interrupt them.
"He said I have athletically induced asthma. It's not a big deal." Seto pulls himself up, and takes a couple of deep breaths. His back is still turned to Katsuya, though, and his worries don't diminish.
"Then what's with the sudden heart attack?" Katsuya throws back at him, his arms at his hips and his brow furrowed angrily. He's tired of Seto treating him as if he's not important enough to know what's happening to him. Either that, or Seto still has doubts about his feelings. Does he really believe Katsuya would put up with all the degrading and almost cruel treatment Seto tends to give him occasionally if he dislikes Seto?
"If it had been a heart attack, my heart would have stopped and I probably would not be having this enlightening conversation." Seto curtly replies. There's a long silence. Katsuya is unsure of how to respond to Seto's words and Seto does not continue speaking.
In the end, without another word, Seto walks out of the room, and leaves Katsuya standing there, his thoughts swirling insanely in his head.
He turns numbly back to the computer, ready to turn it off, and return to class when a phrase catches his eye. Shortness of breath. Exercise capacity may be limited by a breathlessness and fatigueMost individuals experience only mild exercise limitations, but occasionally limitation is severe and a minority may have shortness of breath at rest, it reads. Katsuya scrolls down further, several other parts catching his attention. Chest pain is a common symptom. Most often seen as asthma, specifically-
"No."
-athletically induced asthma.
"What is this?" Katsuya slowly sits back down in the seat, getting more and more agitated by the second.
Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy. Which may be fatal.
No.
Seto arrives home from school to find his younger brother sitting in front of the television set, his eyes glued to some brain cell murdering show. Rolling his eyes as he greets him, he strides up the stairs to his room. He hasn't finished writing up the program for the new product and he feels the pressure to finish it.
Some would call it stressful, but he has grown to love it. The feeling that swells up in the chest that makes him work, work, work until he feels like collapsing. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he totally blanks out, but Seto has assumed it's because he's overworked him. But lately, he's been wondering. . .
What would happen to Mokuba if something were to happen to him? He's all the boy has, in the end. Sure, Mokuba likes to image that his friends will be there for him always, but they won't. In the end they will be just that—friends, volatile and never truly there.
And . . . Katsuya. He sighs and opens his laptop. He needs to get that puppy out of his head if he's going to finish this. Even if that certain puppy has those amazing golden eyes and wispy hair of the same shade that gets in between them whenever he goes to kiss him.
And as an added bonus, he has the annoying ability to burrow inside his thoughts and totally ruin his train of thought. Damn him.
He cannot concentrate with incessant reminder of the puppy in his thoughts. Shutting off the computer that has just begun to start up, he stands up. Damn that stupid mutt. Seto hates the fact that Katsuya has so much control over his actions. Seto has always been certain of his complete self-control. In fact, he was proud of it. Most would be utterly insulted to be told they are cold, distant bastards. Not he.
He relishes in it. He feels accomplished.
And Katsuya makes him feel like a lovesick monkey. An incredibly happy lovesick monkey in heat. Do monkeys go into heat? He needs to go and get this frustration out of his system. Perhaps some weightlifting will shove it all out of his brain. He just needs to put enough pressure upon his body so that he cannot possibly thinking about anything else but the throbbing pain in his arms.
Perfect.
He avoids the living room where his brother is no doubt lounging still. If Seto does not act soon and efficiently, his brother will grow into another consumer clone. Maybe that TV should go?
He images he hears a door slam as he enters the small gym room in the back of mansion. He ignores it—who would come to visit?—and shuts the large wooden door tightly. Mokuba can barely close or open the doors that open into the gym, and Seto feels a sense of privacy sinking in. He hangs his long leather coat on a treadmill near the door.
Lying down on the machine—who cares what it's called, really—that he lifts weights on, and prepares to lift the first one. Then Katsuya's worried expression flashes on by. He really does seem to be worried. Like his own brother. They both care. They both want to take care of him.
Well, he can take care of himself. He grunts as the weight weighs down on his arms, but he pushes it back up with another grunt. Just keep on going, Seto, until you've got the mutt far from your mind and you can do your work. Up. Down. Again. Up. Grunt. Down. Again. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Up.
Down.
No more, his muscles scream. He finds himself short of breath, and he has to gasp to take air in. No more, he decides, and lifts the weight back up to its little stand—
Seto pants as he lays there, his heartbeat throbbing in his ears like it's been doing so much as of lately. And before then too, really. There've been signs haven't there?
He faintly hears footsteps outside. Who is running around? If they break anything he'll have their heads.
He'll—
Katsuya hasn't even stopped at home. He father might be worried about him, but probably not. His father wasn't that bad a guy, but he wasn't too concerned with his son's well being in general. That suits Katsuya very well, indeed.
Yuugi, and the others will be worried though, when he doesn't meet them in their usual place. Then again, he hasn't really been meeting them so regularly, has he? He's been skipping some days to meet up with Seto in some obscure place. They'll assume he's 'busy' again.
Katsuya knows they're suspecting that he's meeting up with someone, but if they knew who they wouldn't be as understanding. For the most part they dislike him, if only that. Sure, Seto hasn't exactly been known for his loving attitude towards his friends, but—
What buts, Seto has been a complete dick to Yuugi & Co. and he doesn't even care to deny it. The feelings are mutual, after all.
He arrives at Seto's mansion, and he still feel remnants of that first amazed sensation he felt the first time he caught sight of Seto's huge home.
He rushes in, forgetting that Mokuba doesn't know he has a key and is a regular visitor to the Kaiba mansion. "Jou?" Mokuba calls out, using the nickname that Katsuya's other friends use.
"Oh, hey, Mokuba." He runs an awkward hand through his hair, and grins at the younger boy. "How's it going?"
Mokuba stands up from the couch cautious, as if he's suspicious of something. "It's fine. Except . . . what are you doing here? And how did you get in?" The boy takes a couple of steps towards him and stops.
"Oh the door was open, and . . . stuff." Arm still in hair, Katsuya realizes, and quickly snatches it away. Okay, then. I can deal with Mokuba. I mean, I'm several years older. I've been sneaking around him for weeks and—
"Seto's sick, isn't it?" Mokuba's eyes look rather teary. Oh, god. Don't let him cry. Mokuba's a tough little guy, he can't just start crying.
"Not sick. I mean, he's got some asthma thing, but that's hardly even sick, you know. Half of everyone has asthma." Katsuya knows now it's okay. Mokuba can't possibly suspect. He only guessed himself because of a little invention called the search engine.
"He's sick, I know, Jou. You don't need to treat me like a child." Mokuba stares at Katsuya from next to the couch. He looks a like a child. Katsuya looks at him for possibly the first time. Sure he's seen him time and time again, but always to the side of his older brother. He's been like a shadow. Now he's just Mokuba, a little boy who loves his brother.
"Let's go talk to him then." Katsuya walks over to Mokuba and takes his hand. They walk in silence, almost like a procession to some solemn occasion. But Seto's not in his room. Katsuya stays in the room a bit longer than necessary, really. It smells like Seto. Like a computer sort of smell and of apples. Seto likes apples.
"He could be in the gym room." Death often is sudden and unexpected and typically is associated with sports or vigorous exertion. No.
He lets go of Mokuba's hand. He has to find Seto. Who knows what would be wrong this very moment. Sure, there's a possibility all he really has is asthma, but. . .
But . . . but what if he doesn't?
Katsuya doesn't know where the gym is. "Where is it?" he cries. He's crazed. He has to find him. Now.
"Down the hall!" Mokuba seems to have caught Katsuya's insanity because he's running off. He's running off to hide? It doesn't seem like something Mokuba would do. He would run to save his brother—
Shit, of course. He's running to the gym. Katsuya strides on after him, catching up with him rapidly. Katsuya wants to leave Mokuba in the dust, he wants to get there now, but he doesn't know the house well. In fact, he only knows his way to Seto's bedchambers. Seto hasn't ever played tour guide with him.
Mokuba stops in front of these huge cedar doors. They look heavy. Katsuya doesn't care. He needs to get in, and some wooden doors aren't going to stop him. He pushes them open.
"Seto!" Mokuba's running towards . . . Seto? No, it can't be. Seto wouldn't just lie there. He should be up and moving, doing something. Seto isn't the type to just lounge around. Katsuya knows that. Then why is he—
He's sleeping of course. That's the logical answer. So then why is he still standing in the doorway, watching the little black haired boy shake his brother violently? Why isn't Seto opening those cobalt eyes and frowning at the sudden interruption when he's actually kinda pleased to see his brother?
Why is he so limp? His head is just lying there, it's not—
"Seto, you fucking cunt! You wake up right now! Don't you play these games with me!" Katsuya's running, and Mokuba's not there anymore. Its just Seto and him like usual. It's always been Seto and him.
Slap. Punch. He's not moving. He's got to move. He can't just lie there. He has a company to run. He has a brother to raise. Shake him until he wakes up. "No, you stupid piece of crap. You cold, bastard." You can't die on me.
He's so cold. Katsuya pauses when he grasps that. A slow realization slithers through him, and he just kneels there next to Seto. He's cold, and he's getting stiff.
"Come right away!" Oh, Mokuba's still here. Katsuya turns to look at him. He's all bleary. Everything is. What's Mokuba holding? Does it matter?
Turning back to Seto—no, not Seto anymore. This thing is still and Seto never is. He's always busy doing something. Typing, talking, working, kissing, touching, smirking, sleeping, breathing—
Katsuya's crying over Seto's dead body. Because Seto is dead, and everything that made Katsuya love him is gone, long gone and now there's the corpse. The blue eyes are closed and that computer-apple smell is still lingering.
And then they take him away in a bag, and he's gone.
No, the bastard's not gone. He hasn't gone out for a drink. He isn't lost, he won't be found. He's dead. Kaiba Seto is dead.
I love you a bushel and peck
A bushel and peck
And a hug around the neck
A hug around the neck
"Don't tell me you're serious." Seto is looking at Katsuya with an expression of complete horror on his face as he slides off the headphones. "There's no way, the tough, badass punk Jounouchi Katsuya listens to Broadway hits. There's just no way."
The selfsame Katsuya sticks out his tongue, and pouts, taking back the headphones. "Well, I'm gay, aren't I? I'm supposed to be more girly—"
Seto frowns. "Tsk, you and your labels. You don't need them, you know. It's not all about gay, straight, dumb, smart, big, little, and you're ridiculous if you think it is. " He takes a soft sip of his coffee, and looks at Katsuya, watching the anger flare up in him.
"Right, and you're the anti-label, now, aren't you?" He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. Stupid Seto, always acting superior. He's not better, but he assumes Katsuya doesn't know that. Oh, but he does! "What happened to you striving away your life to be labeled the best duelist? What happened to wanting to be labeled smartest in school? And you label me puppy, all the fucking time!"
Anger Kaiba Seto expects. Anger Seto can deal with. Truth is something he's not so wonderful with. Because Katsuya is right, he had been a tad obsessed with being the best in something. As if having everyone acknowledge his power was truly important.
"That was years ago--"
"Like two!" Katsuya interrupts. Seto ignores him and goes on.
"—and I have come to realize that I don't need labels to feel like I am better. I simply am better, with or without others recognizing that." He ends his short speech with a smirk in Katsuya's direction.
Oh, and is Katsuya furious. Stupid, pompous bastard, he thinks, fuming silently. Always in the right, while he's always in the wrong. Katsuya is sick to hell of it. He's got a half a mind to—
To what? Walk from Tokyo to Domino? Even Katsuya's not impulsive enough to do that.
"I love you, a bushel and a peek, a bushel and a peek and a—" Seto . . . singing? No way. Looking up at Seto, he sees a rueful glint in his eyes. That's the closest thing Katsuya has ever been to having Seto apologize to him. Katsuya grins, his anger forgotten.
"It's a bushel and a peck, you idiot." Katsuya gets up slowly, and walks around Seto's chair, putting his arms around his neck and leaning in to whisper in his ear. "And a hug around the neck, a hug around the neck."
And a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap
And I'm talking in my sleep
About you
About you
Seto doesn't even look relaxed when he's sleeping, Katsuya decides as he studies him while lying on his side, his head pushed up on his elbow. His eyes are shut, and his mouth is pulled into a tight line. Is he dreaming? Or does he shove his daytime worries onto his dreams, too?
Katsuya reaches over and puts a hand through Seto's hair, ruffling it, and pulling himself closer. He's in snuggle mode.
Seto grunts, but doesn't open his eyes. Katsuya pushes his head against Seto's chest, and just lays there, listening to his heartbeat. He loves all those little clues about Seto that make him human. That he's more than the cold shell he pretends to be, sometimes even with Mokuba. Even with him.
Katsuya loves his smell. Sniff your computer, can you smell it? Imagine apples. That's what he smells like. Others could say to him, computers don't smell, but he distinctly knows they do. It's like he's going out with one.
It'll be time to go soon. He has to get home to change, then go hang out with Yuugi, Anzu and Honda. It's not like he doesn't want to . . . it's just that he doesn't quite want to move from where he's lying. He's not too cold, and he's not too warm, which is exactly how he likes it. And he's got Seto, which is a definite bonus.
But Seto has other ideas. He's awakening, and is he a freak for not staying in bed. Katsuya prepares himself for an onslaught of cold air as Seto leaves the bed. Damn him. Katsuya rubs his eyes, and looks up at Seto. What is he doing, Katsuya wonders as Seto gazes around the room, obviously searching for something.
Seto grunts in response when Katsuya asks his question out loud, and Katsuya pouts at Seto's turned back. Seto opens the wide doors in his wardrobe, and plunges in, immediately becoming hidden behind the large trench coats he kept in there. Katsuya jumps up out of the warm bed at the chance of possibly convincing Seto to let him try them on.
Seto appears once again, holding a large box of—
"Chocolates!" Jou exclaims, the trench coats forgotten. He kneels down next to Seto, eyeing the box hungrily. "For me?" Jou cannot believe Seto actually spent a moment away from his company thinking of him—
"Of course not!" Seto snaps, holding the box tighter. "This is for me. I'm hungry." He gets up and walks to the bed, sitting on the edge of it with the box balanced on his thighs. Katsuya stays seated, following the selfish bastard with his eyes. Seto opens the box slowly, seemingly ignoring Katsuya. There's no way Seto's able to stand the puppy eyes Katsuya's giving him. Yet, somehow he isn't budging, even as he shoves a chocolate in his mouth with a low moan. "These are rather good," he mutters.
Katsuya growls at the comment. Seto finally looks over, and a huge smirk covers his face. Then not only is he grinning, he's laughing hysterically. He's let go of the box, and is on the floor, pounding it with a fist, laughing his ass off. Katsuya glances fearfully at the closed door, expecting to see Mokuba barging in any minute.
"You," Seto pants in-between gasps left over from his hysteria, "really . . . want chocolate . . . that badly?" He sits up on the floor, slowly calming down, but a huge smile on his face still covering his face. Katsuya decides he rather likes the smile there, even though it looks queer and out of place.
"Yeah," Katsuya admits sheepishly, ruffling his own hair with his right hand unconsciously. "I do."
Seto grabs the box, and crawls over to where Katsuya is still sitting. "Open up, puppy." Katsuya obeys almost immediately, instantly ashamed at how used he has become to taking orders from Seto. Seto slips a round chocolate into his mouth, but before Katsuya can close his lips and begin to chew, Seto moves over and kisses him into torpidity.
Then, before Katsuya can even begin to enjoy the sweetness of the chocolate, Seto slips it out of Katsuya's unsuspecting mouth, and breaks away. "There you go," he says, his mouth full of chocolate and his eyes shining mischievously. Katsuya suddenly leaps onto him, locking lips, and forcing Seto to share the sugary chocolate on his lips.
Cause I love you a bushel and peck
You bet you're purty neck I do
I do-loo-do-loo-do-loo
I do-loo-do-loo-do-loo-do
He sits in the stool next to Mai's chewing some gum absentmindedly. "What did you even bring me here for?" Katsuya asks roughly, annoyed that he had let Mai drag him to his club. Had he actually expected Mai to understand Katsuya's problem with getting a date?
"I brought you here to help you. I mean, you came out to me for a reason." She looks into the mirror she's holding with one hand, and presses on lipstick with the other. "You know in a deep part of you that I can help you in a way Yuugi and the others definitely can't." She purses her lips, and then puts away the lipstick and mirror.
"Get up, Jou." Katsuya glares at her, and disregards her statement, crossing his arms instead, and staring out into the crowd. "Look, you little brat, if you won't listen to me, how can I be expected to help you?"
"I never asked for your help, you know," Katsuya replies angrily, still not looking at her.
"You know, what? Fine. Come talk to me when you've grown up." Katsuya hears her heels tapping away, towards the bartender, but he doesn't look at her receding back. He hadn't come out to Mai about being gay so that she could throw him a pity party and try to help him. He doesn't need help.
He just kind of wants a date.
"Oh, dear, has the mutt's date abandoned him?" Katsuya knows that voice anywhere, but he still looks up at the sound of it.
"Mai isn't my date," Katsuya mutters, talking into his glass. He fiddles with a wisp of blonde hair that has fallen into his face. Why has he suddenly become nervous around the bastard? He can't seem to look him in the eye anymore. In those cold, blue eyes that he could just fall into—
No. No fantasizing. Not about Kaiba Seto. Especially not with cliché phrases.
"Really?" Kaiba's voice doesn't sound especially mocking, and Katsuya manages to look up and raise an eyebrow in surprise.
"Yeah. I'm—" Does he dare? Well, if he's ever going to get a date, he's got to learn to say it, right? "I don't flow that way." Flow that way? Is he serious? Had he really just said such an asinine comment in front of Kaiba?
"You're gay?" Kaiba Seto wants to giggle. Jounouchi Katsuya is gay? What were the chances? He would have thought the effeminate Yuugi would have been the gay one.
"Yeah." The mutt seems to be ashamed. Seto begins to get a little annoyed. Why should Jounouchi be ashamed of being gay? What, because it isn't the norm?
"Join the club," Seto responds offhandedly, sitting himself down in the seat he had seen Mai preening on. He ignores the astounded look on Katsuya's face, and continues speaking. "What are you doing here with Mai, anyway, if you are not—erm—with her?" He really is curious. But it feels awkward speaking to Katsuya as if they are friends. All they have ever exchanged have been insults, and Seto has been happy with that.
Until lately. Until he saw the mutt hanging out that hot summer evening in front of a toy store, smoking a cigarette and holding his tee-shirt on his arm. "You really shouldn't smoke--" The words slip through his lips before he can stop himself, but he makes sure that none of the surprise he feels is conveyed in his facial expression.
"What?" Katsuya is actually looking at him, which is a nice upside to his outburst. But now Seto has to explain himself. Not too hard, all in all. In fact, it is a simple task. He does little else all day long—explain, explain, explain.
"I've seen you smoking. It will kill you." He does not have anything to occupy his hands with. This annoys Seto greatly, and he taps his fingers incessantly against the table.
Just when you think the mutt cannot get more confused, his face distorts itself with more surprise. "You've seen me smoking?" God Almighty, had he not just said that?
"Yes. I thought dogs were supposed to roll over, not repeat whatever you say." Seto says that to anger the puppy, more irritated at himself for letting his guard down than he is at Katsuya.
"What, would you like me to show you some other tricks I've picked up?" Katsuya hasn't gotten angry. Seto is shocked by his forwardness, in fact. No, this was not going as planned.
"What?" No. Seto will not allow Katsuya to take control of the situation. He's the mutt, the barely noticeable spot in the large scale of things, not worth the effort in the end, definitely not—
Katsuya leans over and kisses Seto gently. Seto wants to push the overreaching puppy away for his overfriendliness. But he likes the feeling of Katsuya's proximity, and his hands itch to leave their idleness in exchange for pulling the eager mutt closer. Instead of doing either, he just sits there until Katsuya moves away.
"Seto?" The mutt looks at Seto with his head tilted, almost like a puppy with nearly an understanding for what is going on.
Kaiba Seto, in a moment of clarity realizes this is something he has wanted to do for ages. And he is going to do it. Grabbing Jounouchi—no, Katsuya's hand in his, he pulls him out of his chair. Katsuya stands there, a lingering confusion on his features. This makes Seto smile. He's in control again.
"Come on, puppy. Show me those tricks."
Jounouchi Katsuya sits under the tree, smoking a cigarette. He'd promised Seto he would stop, but . . . that didn't matter anymore did it?
He should be at the funeral. Yuugi, Anzu and Honda had all gone together, but he'd told them he'd catch up with them later. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie . . . at the time. But he'd decided—why bother?
He couldn't bring flowers, like Mokuba would. He couldn't bring Seto's dragon cards like Yuugi would. He couldn't share pleasant memories, or recite kind words like the others. Whatever they had had was still . . . well, theirs. Katsuya doesn't want to share the laughs, the fights, the pleasure, and the feelings with anyone, not yet.
He hadn't told the others about Seto and him, obviously. Or else he wouldn't be sitting here, inhaling smoke and killing himself under a tree. Well, Mai knew, but she is off in America, having the time of her life. She has no more interest in what could be happening in Domino than Katsuya wants to know what is happening in America.
Yuugi wouldn't understand. He'd make an attempt, of course. But in the end, he would never catch on to what Katsuya had lost with Seto.
Jounouchi Katsuya will not delve deeply into the psyche of Kaiba Seto, and pretend to know the secret of how or why he ticks. Ticked. He doesn't. And now it seems he never will. He has nothing left to say.
He snuffs his cigarette out on the dirt, gets up, and walks away.
Blegh, that ending is slightly more spiffy, but not by much. And BLEGH, my first oneshot.