Author's Note: Happy reading :D
Seto Kaiba stirred in the dark, neck and back sore as he turned his head on the pillow, eyes searching for the tableside. His mobile sat in its cradle, its dark screen displaying the time. 5:50. He was a man who believed in punctuality in all things, and this was no exception, for he always woke at this time to prepare for the day.
Something silently shifted behind him, and it warmly pressed against his leg through the sheets before it returned to stillness. With a patience and furtiveness born on painstaking practice, Kaiba slowly began to, by degrees, slide himself off the mattress. He knew the bed intimately, and was careful not to press any part of himself against it lest he make it creak or move in any way that might noisily ruffle cloth. A minute crawled by twice before he was off.
The marble floor made no sound as he crept out of the room. As he stood in the doorway though, he felt something.
Hesitation. One amongst many perceived weaknesses he eschewed and took many pains to remove from himself. Yet, he felt it now, as he looked at the bed and its sole occupant who stood out in soft lines and contours in the darkness. It wouldn't be hard to crawl back under the sheets and nod off again. Not at all. It might even be possible, perhaps, if he slept in for the day, that-
No. She was asleep. If he went back now, he might wake her. Best to stay the course.
He kept going, convincing himself that his decision was based on concern, and not something more disconcerting.
He freshened up in the shower and then at the basin. He dressed and he prepared breakfast for himself – instant noodles – and he ate it at the kitchen bench as he loaded up a laptop and watched the view of the skyline the penthouse offered, as the lightshow outside that was the cityscape in the night gradually died with twilight's decline and the sun's ascent in the distance.
No updates on the corporation, at least, nothing that seriously required his attention and not that of a subordinate. As CEO, micromanagement was not an option. He checked the stock market next. Movement was jerky this week. Today there was some reprieve. Some a little up. Some a little down. All and all things are more stagnant than they were yesterday. Didn't matter much to him. He was a businessman, not an investor, though the latter does sometimes act as a lucrative hobby.
The mobile noisily vibrated. 'Go ahead.' Phone to ear, Kaiba threw the chopsticks and the cup into a bin. 'Good. Keep the engine running. I won't be long.' He hung up, closed the laptop and placed it in the attaché suitcase with some papers and a manila folder. Clipped the latches shut. Click clack. Click clack.
He was striding across the living room to the door, his mind running over his schedule, when he heard someone politely clear her throat behind him.
He turned around and he sighed as he saw her leaning gracefully against the wall, watching him with those irritating blue eyes. 'What is it?' He asked.
Ishizu Ishtar listened to Kaiba freshen up with eyes closed. A toilet quietly gurgled as it flushed. A tap whispered as the running water lightly trickled around a porcelain sink. She could envision him dabbing his face with a towel, searching for the razor and the shaving cream for his five o'clock shadow. Then the brush and the toothpaste.
Lifting her arm to her face, she blinked and squinted through a veil of hair. One long to the north and one short to the south were displayed the glowing hands of the silver watch. 6:00. She was a woman who believed in destiny in all things, and this was no exception, for she always woke at this time to hear him already up and at his morning rituals.
As the long minutes continued to crawl by, she watched the dawn skulk in under the window blinds as pale blue light. The tap halted its gushing, and she let herself slump as Seto crept back into the bedroom and searched the mahogany wardrobe, wood sliding against wood as doors were opened and closed and drawers were pulled out and pushed back in. She knew what he picked. The burgundy jacket. Black slacks. The dark long-sleeved buttoned up shirt. No tie. He never liked ties. Something about the knots. She usually had to help him with them to get them right. That act alone can irritate him on some days.
He left. Beats passed. Outside, a kettle hissed as it boiled water and a plastic seal was loudly peeled off of an instant noodle cup. She watched the last hand of her watch, the tiny, sliver-thin one, complete its revolution steadfastly as its brethren figuratively dragged their feet. He's a quick eater. He'd be done in two or three. Life moved for him on a timetable, and he followed it strictly and with discipline, to her chagrin and amusement. She heard him answer the phone, speak with a clipped tone and hang up in moments, just as the second hand came full circle once again.
Now was the perfect time. Millennium Item or not, she had foreseen it.
Rolling the sheets off, she wheeled her legs off the bed and the rest of her followed suit. She padded out, barefoot and deliberate in pace, and her minutes of waiting paid off for she barely shied away from the weak but swiftly emerging light of day. Click clack went the latch of a suitcase in the living room. Click clack went the other.
He was striding across to the door. A tad hurried. Leaning her shoulder against the wall, Ishizu politely cleared her throat. She watched him sigh in mid-step, turn around and meet her eyes squarely with both exasperation and weariness – feelings that she knew did not result from having to wake up so early in the morning. 'What is it?' He asked bluntly.
'Seto. It's Sunday.'
Author's Note: I was reading some fanfics in another archive. Found one I liked a lot. Looked up author. Found Yugioh fanfics. Goody goody, I read those too. Discovered Trustshipping. The pairing stayed in my head for the next few days and one week later, my imagination gave birth to this.
I'm definitely going to be here for a while.
