Shadow: I wrote this before I wrote Both sides of the Border; this was where I first started experimenting with a new style. I forgot about this piece, and stumbled across it when tidying up my Desktop. Expect weirdness.
Warnings: Shonen-ai pairing (boy x boy) - Prideshipping (YY x SK). Dark.
Disclaimer: I do not own either Yu-Gi-Oh! or Shakespeare, but the former might go on my Christmas list.
Notes: Um...I guess this is AU, though I suppose it could be canon/post-canon. Frankly, it could probably fit in anywhere... Kaiba doesn't recognise Yami though, so I guess AU fits best. I warned before this piece was dark(ish) and has themes that are/are implied as such.
Taken
The night was alive.
Kaiba Mokuba could feel it, could see it everywhere he looked, could nigh taste the tingling…alive-ness the night had brought upon falling. There had been a storm, a violent electric storm, with lightning flashing and forking while thunder crashed and rumbled directly overhead.
He'd watched it from his balcony, only retreating inside when the tempest had been upon him, mindful of his brother's warnings…even when Seto wasn't there to make them. He'd watched the flashing and the thundering, his face pressed to his window, unable to tear his eyes away from the awe-inspiring fury of Mother Nature.
Storms fascinated him.
But…as all things do, the thunder and lightning passed on, the storm ended.
But then had come the rain.
Droplets at first, a light pitter-patter that beat a melodious rhythm on the roof, tap-tapping away at the glass. Mokuba had laughed then, re-opened his balcony and ran out onto it, relishing the feel of water plopping onto his face, his skin. And it had got harder, pounded down on him, and Mokuba had smiled at the sky, flipping his wet hair out of his eyes, wind tugging at his hair and clothes.
A new world…Seto and he had always loved the rain, and the storms that came with it. After the storm, after the rain, the world was fresh and new again, bursting with life, hope and colour. Nature at it's finest, it's most beautiful. Wild and free and untameable. For all his technology, for all the fact Seto was the CEO of Japan's largest gaming corporation, for all his holographs and laptops and programs and duel disks, Seto loved nature. Not in the smother-the-fluffy-bunnies-with-hugs-and-kisses way though, never that way. The eldest Kaiba loathed the overzealous campaigners, preferred instead the quiet simplicity that came of taking things slowly, surely, carefully protecting and preserving in slow, steady steps. Nature, Seto had insisted to Mokuba on more than one occasion, was perfectly capable of dealing with itself. Preserve the life so it can work through its own problems. Whatever happened to her, Mother Nature always found a way back, a way to correct a problem, a way to balance an imbalance and re-set the scales. She was more efficient than any human…
Eventually Mokuba made his way back inside, the pounding rain changing to a drizzle, and the drizzle fading away to nothing. The moon came out from behind the clouds, and made the world sparkle with beaded silver and pearls. Mokuba had smiled once more at the sight, the wild elation seizing him before gone with the storm, calmly shutting his window, his curtains, closing the night outside, and nature with it.
Wonderful, beautiful, damned nature.
Seto was ill. He'd fallen sick a few weeks back, it had taken Mokuba most of that time to convince his brother to rest, to stay away from the company. Only upon collapsing had Seto agreed, and then only because so many had ordered him to rest, Mokuba begging and pleading and tugging at him. Seto's collapse had frightened him, scared him beyond belief, and he'd insisted his brother should remain in bed for at least a week, striking a bargain with the CEO. If Seto did as he asked for a week he could go back to work afterwards with no complaints, as long as he wasn't obviously still ill. Reluctantly, his little brother's eyes upon him, Seto had agreed.
But then the fever had started.
Mokuba had entered his brother's room as usual one morning, bringing his brother breakfast as he'd fallen into the habit of doing when Seto was ill. Only…Seto hadn't responded to his good morning, to any of his words, the elder's skin dreadfully pale and so cold to the touch, only the teen's forehead sizzling hot, burning Mokuba's hand.
So he'd called the doctor, ignoring the fact his brother hated them, loathed them with a passion. The family doctor, a smiling silvery-haired man who'd cured him of all his ills over the years and not a few of Seto's, reluctant as he'd been to accept them. The professoriate had entered his brother's room…and come out again, his face grim.
Seto had caught some virus, Mokuba had tried vainly to concentrate, but his mind kept focusing and unfocusing with the knowledge his brother was ill. Kaiba Seto was well-known for his icy manner, his sheer forthrightness and bluntness of speech. A fortress if ever there was one, Mokuba was well-used to sheltering within the walls his brother built for him. But now those very same walls lay broken, breached by some virus. Seto was ill.
Seto didn't eat, couldn't eat. Anything the doctors – more had had to be called in – had managed to get down his throat had been promptly thrown up again. Seto wasted away, languishing in the bed Mokuba had coaxed him into, lost in some feverish dream that ensnared his mind while the virus ravished his body. The boy mumbled as he tossed and turned, snatches of phrases, whimpers, soft pleadings that sounded like Seto's memories of his younger days.
Mokuba, to his credit, would have been at his brother's side every minute of every day and night, but the same doctor who prescribed his brother ill ordered him to rest, refused him entrance to Seto's room if he was in direct disobedience of such an order. There were many looking after Seto he had been told, there was no need to make himself ill as well. So, he'd rested as ordered, ate as ordered, stayed at his brother's side for as long as he possibly could, held Seto's hand and talked to him, pleaded with him to get well soon, to come back home.
And Seto, to his credit, had. For five days the fever had consumed him, on the sixth it finally broke. Blue eyes had opened, a stunning shade of aquamarine had glimmered through dark lashes, and Mokuba had clutched tightly to his brother's hand, hardly daring to hope.
"…Seto…?"
A bleary, tired smile, slim fingers curling more tightly around Mokuba's smaller own.
"…Mokuba…"
The screech Mokuba sounded for the doctors was enough to raise the dead.
Seto was getting better, the virus was receding from his system, the eldest Kaiba's antibodies and antitoxins were finally kicking in, alongside the drugs injected by the doctors into the young man's system. A few days later and the doctors had decided Kaiba was completely out of danger, leaving the mansion – though not before prescribing certain drugs for the CEO to aid his 'complete' recovery. They would be within distance, they told Mokuba, should anything go wrong – not that anything should go wrong, of course, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Mokuba, doing his part as a dutiful younger brother, had nodded, listened, thanked the people for their care and attention to his brother. Politely paid them, shown them out, and ran back upstairs to simply sit and smile at Seto. His brother was still feverish, but he was lucid and sane. Perhaps the CEO still had odd dreams, saw things that weren't there every now and then, but what of it? Seto was safe; Seto was well, and he didn't give a damn if his brother protested, Mokuba wasn't letting him out of bed for at least a year.
Mokuba laughed quietly, just glad things were pretty much back to the way they had always been. Seto was nearly completely fine, and he was sleeping – well, more likely trying to sleep, the storm had been quite noisy – in his room just along the hall. Mother Nature had come through for him…eventually…
It took little time for him to dry off, change, turn off the lights and snuggle into his bed. Warm and cosy, everything was perfect, a soft cocoon that cuddled him to sleep, lashes slipping closed over contented blue-grey eyes. Sleep and rest, and dream…
The storm had woken Kaiba, and his mind had kept him awake once it was done. The weather prickled at him, the static from earlier lightning spiking his skin and hair, the air almost crackling around him as he drew breath. Even ill, half-well, hazy and confused, Kaiba could feel something, and the breeze blowing in through the window he'd opened was moist and damp. Tingles of energy and life raced down his spine, leftovers from the sheer power of the sky he'd watched through clear panes of glass. And then the rain…opening his window, delighting in the water from the clouds above, he'd watched the rain. And listened to the earth come to life once more.
But he was tired, weary, soul and strength desiring only to rest, to sink into deep oblivion and dark. Of late he was prone to ponder, the cloud fever had cast over his mind slowly dissipating, withdrawing piece by piece and revealing memories, once dusty and worn, bathed in pearl-drops of moisture, cleaned, refreshed, ready for studying once more. And the images had tired him; the work to claw himself back into Mokuba's reality had drained him, and the effort to sort out the jumble of his past, to reclaim his sense and identity had left him exhausted.
And he wasn't all that sure it had been worth it.
His pillow was soft, soothing to his aching head, gentle breathing cooling to his restricted chest. Darkness was a comfort, sleep a saviour, and nothingness bliss beyond compare. To one who has been plagued by visions, bursts of colour and confusion, heat and despair, to experience nothing is a relief, and the contemplation of an eternity of such is a God-sent gift.
But he was mortal, a mortal doomed to a mortal existence, tied to bone and blood and encased with flesh. According to the religions, possessing a spirit, a soul…and it was the spirit that cried for freedom. Sick at heart and weary, his soul was wasted away by life and sickness. Longing for the comfort of an escape away from pain and death and loneliness, praying for the darkness to come and take him away, to wrap him in arms of midnight and hide him from the dawn. Permit him to feel no more.
And so, he lay, listless, drowsy, body a pale ghost upon sheets of satin blue. Energy thrummed through his veins, opportunity lay at the tip of his fingers, shadows whispered a promise of something to him…his mind was unable to grasp what it meant. Lost, hazy and confused, lashes slipping shut only to flutter open again once more…both the will to sleep and the desire to stand were upon him.
There was a boy in his room.
Kaiba was unsure of when he had become aware of it, but now he was aware; acutely so; the knowledge stolen into his mind.
The stranger was beautiful; Kaiba could see that the moment he laid eyes on the teen. The moonlight, slanting into the room through the window, outlined the boy's slender frame, the pale goddess' hand creating a fair creature of unrivalled beauty.
Kaiba slid out from between his sheets, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, padding silently over to his guest. The two stood there, barely a foot away from each other, two opposite sides of a scale bathed in silvery light.
On one side stood Kaiba Seto, his skin palest alabaster and shadows stark under his eyes due to recent illness. His flesh was clammy; loose, snow-white pyjamas softening slightly-pointed limbs – the CEO hadn't been eating well of late -, though the material clung to sweat-soaked skin uncomfortably in places. He was tall, possessing hair of a soft chocolate brown; strands sticking to his feverish forehead so that he irritably pulled them away; and his eyes were an almost unnatural blue, sharp and piercing.
Then…there was the boy. The stranger. He was slim and petite, lithe frame clad in smooth, skin-tight leather as dark as midnight, almost painted on his form. Silver buckles around the teen's wrists and throat glittered in the semi-darkness, and at least three belts were draped low about the boy's hips. His skin was a creamy tan, and his hair was a bizarrely exotic mix of ruby, ebony and gold, lazy bangs curving around the teen's cheeks and arching up to thrice-pointed splendour. His eyes were slanting, coal-black lashes darkened further with kohl sweeping past high cheekbones.
Kaiba's own eyes widened, unknowingly taking a step closer to the captivating stranger.
"…Who are you…?" His words were barely a whisper.
His companion smiled slightly, lips quirking upwards at the edges, remaining silent as Kaiba moved even closer.
And it unsettled the brunette; that odd, silent smile. So he studied the boy who stood barely a few inches from him then, blue eyes sweeping across the teen's delicate features up towards his companion's eyes –
And gasped, the noise loud in the otherwise quiet night.
They were ruby. The stranger's eyes were ruby, a dark, flawless crimson swirled with hints of violet. Exquisite, shadowy orbs; Kaiba found himself staring into their deep, haunting depths, some misted secret he saw there holding him entranced, bewitched.
He felt remarkably light-headed.
Something within him cried out, the boy almost hearing the sound, raising a slim hand to trail it down Kaiba's face, cupping the other's cheek.
Blue eyes slipped shut, the gentle touch sending a wave of dizziness through the brunette, Kaiba's breath suddenly harsh, ragged, his soul, his self, keening, holding him where he stood though leaning, leaning towards this…this other…
How old was the stranger? Kaiba couldn't say. The stranger's frame, his size, said he was young, a handsome teenager; but his manner, his eyes…his eyes were ageless, shifting, impossible, seeing all and nothing, the world's birth and death passing in but a blink of dark lashes. Eons upon eons had the boy seen, empires raised, conquered, fallen, civilisations begun and crumbled away, mere memories of themselves in but a millisecond of his sight. Before those…before life, before death, before pain and joy and laughter and tears, stretching through all and nothing and everthen and evermore…those eyes had seen it. This other had seen it, had noted it, had moved on; had watched unblinking as worlds both rose and fell around him.
His touch was gentle.
An age passed, and it seemed many moons before Kaiba Seto reopened his eyes, once again meeting those of his visitor, the half-smile coming back to the black-clad teen's lips. The gentle caress to his cheek stopped, the tanned palm falling, resting at the other's side.
Silent.
Slow, heavy…difficult words. "…What are you?"
A question it seemed his guest didn't want to answer. The ruby gaze was…chiding, a parent indulging a naughty child. Teasing almost, a flicker of…something flashing through crimson orbs, white lightning in dark, dark sky. An unspoken answer: Guess.
A sprite? Some spirit, a wraith of all time? A fey creature, slim and delicate, shadowy and deep and old and young and everything and nothing in one? Long-lashed bewitcher, giver of dreams, shadow and dusk, ancient as days, prince and noble and royal and storm? A ghost, a flicker of unconsciousness, a dream, a memory, a wish? Natural. Unnatural. Forgotten. Remembered. There. Not there. A whisper in his mind…
An unanswerable question…
He was other. Nothing identifiable, a creature of shadows and dreams, floating and free and wild… The boy, spirit, creature, being, memory, wish, dream…he was other.
And he was here.
Now the hungry lion roars,
And the wolf behowls the moon;
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores,
All with weary task fordone.
A smooth glance, fingers suddenly weaving themselves with Kaiba's own, lightly tug-tugging at him, a soft plea. The touch sent shivers down the CEO's spine; he went to grip those slender digits more firmly…but they pulled away, the boy pulled away, moving to the door, watching him with ruby eyes, waiting. Expectant.
And then…he was gone. Darkness in darkness, a shadow hidden amongst shadows, a whisper of sound in silence.
Follow me.
Now the wasted brands do glow,
Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch that lies in woe
In remembrance of a shroud.
The loss of touch was what prompted Kaiba to move, his white-clad form wraithlike as he shifted about the dark mansion, a wandering ghost, lost.
And then…a glimmer, moonlight catching off the edge of a silver buckle, barely time to turn before a slim frame was pressed against his and soft, soft lips met his and he lost track of anything and everything that he still clung onto. Warmth and breath and gold and silver and black and white and shadows blurred, and that gentle caressing touch remained, ghostly, chaste, dizzying and numbing and leaving him unsure of what anything was anymore.
Reality was only a conception.
Now it is the time of night
That the graves all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his sprite,
In the church-way paths to glide:
Eons of dark-drenched warmth, an eternity of dizzying touch and…loss, acute, sharp, painful, the boy, again, pulling away, focus half-settling back in, objects fixing and…shifting at the corner of his eye, reality rippling at the edges in moonlight and night, bending out of shape, proportion. He could see…and couldn't see…but didn't care for the strange weaving of dreams any longer around him. Silver threads of light, spinning around him, a web to be torn away, strands clinging to his palm and skin as he pulled away also, pulled himself away somewhere, half there, half not, unsure of where he pulled to but away. And after, after the feel of warmth offered in a fleeting touch, a soft kiss, a pleasant numbness lost in dark, dark eyes of ruby.
And we fairies that do run
By the triple Hecate's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream.
The shadows, a sea around him, water rippling with phosphoresce, small splashes where silver-scaled fishes swam, droplets touching his face. Cupping the water, letting it run through his palms, ripples growing and widening in ever-growing circles as he watched, fascinated. But he was drawn on, the water receding as his mind left it, mist instead swirling around his frame, moisture touching his lips and face, tears clinging to his lashes as faces came and went, fading as they had never been. And still, everything rippled.
The boy…the other…a shadow he focused on, moving through glass like water, or water disguised as glass, a slanted waterfall across his brow as he stepped outside after him. Outside…an awkward window, slanted on tiles, the roof of his mansion once perhaps, the tip of a monument now, smooth and sheer and tiled with scales like a fish, glittering blue and green and silver, glowing in the moonlight. The boy…almost gliding across them, graceful and smooth, bathed in silver.
And Kaiba scrambled after him, bare feet slipping slightly on the still-wet scales. The wind he'd heard earlier tugged at his hair and clothes, but the brunette didn't care, stumbling after the elusive boy he'd followed all the way. He was still out of reach, the exotic teen, standing on the crest of the monument where the wind blew strongest, a silhouetted shadow against perfect midnight.
It began to rain again.
Kaiba felt the wet droplets hit his hot skin, a delicious coolness spreading through his fevered mind. His pyjamas were soaked quickly, white material clinging even more to marble skin than they had before. Still, he didn't care.
The strange boy was wet too, rain sliding his face and bare arms, dampening the dark leather he wore. He smiled slightly as Kaiba slipped and slid his way closer, that mysterious half-smile that twisted something within the brunette's gut and brought again that odd, light-headed feeling to his head.
"Who are you?" The question was repeated; wondering; Kaiba's breath turning to fine mist in the downpour, silver fog that caressed his cheeks with subtle warmth before falling, winding around his frame and joining the water rushing and roaring at their feet.
Ruby eyes glowered eerily in the night. "…They call me Yami."
The boy spoke in a soft voice, smooth and melodious, and it sent a wave of shivers down Kaiba's spine.
"Do they?" They were a hair's-breadth away.
Yami smirked, tilting his head up so ruby and sapphire eyes met. The wind pulled at him, blonde bangs whipping across tanned cheeks in the strange breeze. This close, his gaze was mesmerising…
He didn't reply.
The scales around them ran with water, rivers bending and flowing and twisting like snakes, serpentine and dancing as the world bent around conception, and reality fled.
The rain freshened the air, and everything could be…smelt so much better, earth and water and sky all mixing and mingling together with the soft night air just before dawn. It smelt wonderful, fresh and crisp and new, nature at its best, and…he could smell cinnamon?
The faintest scent of cinnamon reached Kaiba, winding its way intoxicatingly around his senses; ruby eyes darkly amused when the brunette closed his own bright orbs, breathing in the subtle spice.
It was coming from Yami.
This close, he could see every lash surrounding the teen's exquisite crimson eyes, see every speck of colour in the swirling ruby depths and study it, feel warm breath hit his cool skin and send pleasant shivers throughout his frame. This close he could see the sheen water had left on tanned skin, and each crystal droplet as it rolled down that fair face to the ground below.
The clinging leather. The slim frame. The ghostly traces of a smile on half-curved lips. Those unforgettable, haunting ruby eyes.
Kami-sama, Yami was bewitching.
"I followed you here…"
A smile again, a low chuckle issuing from the stranger's lips.
"How do you know it was me you followed? It could have been anyone..."
Rain and water, splashes at his feet, droplets sliding over his arms and face and legs and chest, covering him, wading through confusion and bending and conception and twisting and rippling.
"What have you done?"
Wind pulling at his own hair, gusts twining around his form and pulling-
A warmth against his ear, a whisper of words, an imparted secret.
"This is how it always is. I have done nothing."
Faint surprise, blue meeting secretive ruby, the two the only constant where everything simply shifted.
A laugh, slender frame melding into the breeze, becoming one and wrapping around the other, warmth closer and stronger and unable to just pull away…
A voice, now husky, lips smiling against his skin.
"Tell me, Kaiba Seto, what do you feel?"
Reality. Conception. Bending and twisting and writhing away, white and black and colours a taste upon his tongue, shades a flavour he could understand and divide. He could see the world, many worlds, smell them, feel them, watch them be born and die with but a glance at the shadow against him, see a billion stars explode and crumble and the universe itself collapse. He could feel a million souls laugh and cry, all the peoples that would ever be and been an image in his mind, a flash, a flicker. He could taste what came before life, and could see what came after death. He could see it all and remember none of it, and he could feel eternity stretch all around him and within him, his other his gift to give him all.
Yami. Chaos. Darkness. Oblivion beyond all to wrap him in his arms and surrender himself to. But where is chaos without order? Darkness without light?
A pleasant tingling, his body hyper-sensitive, Yami's light touch upon his face, his smile, sending so much into him he felt so lost and found…
Water, rippling, sinuous, bending as everything bent. As light and dark and shadow all twisted, a cocoon of possibility. The night was alive.
A breath now, Yami still there, watching with eyes that waited.
"Come with me."
Order smiled back, cool and heat melding and twining as he bent his head, lips brushing with chaos, tasting fire and shadows and blood and gold and night and revelling in oblivion in his other, the softness and warmth, tingling, sparking, exploding behind his eyes as waves of pleasure and dizziness raced along his nerves. A moan against him, Yami pressing himself so much closer, two and one, divided and together, scales balanced and tipped and ordered and chaotic, all there and not. Hands, fingers twining with hair, the sound of water, splashing and tinkling and still falling from the sky, darkness, twisting around him, ensnaring him, holding him even as he swayed-
"Nii-san!" A hand grabbed the back of his clothing, roughly tugging him backwards, desperation that was so evident in its owner's voice so obvious in the strength that was lent to the action. Kaiba fell back, momentum crashing him to the roof tiles hard, well and truly earthed. Dazed, the brunette blinked, half-sitting, half-lying on his slippy roof, leaning back on his – now sore – elbows.
"Wha…?" Kiss-bruised lips, they felt so, the clouds above…the moon. Setting. Fixed. Normal.
Still.
"Seto!" The same hands that had a barely a few second ago been so rough were now gentle, worried fingers carefully checking the brunette for any injuries. "Nii-san, oh -Seto!" Arms flung themselves around Kaiba's neck, a head burrowing itself into his shoulder.
And still reality wavered for Seto, deciding, hesitant, before crashing down upon him painfully. "Mokuba!" His mind straightened, arms flying around his little brother. "What in the name of God are you doing out here?!"
Tearful, blue-grey eyes met his. "I could ask you the same question! Nii-san, you almost fell off the roof!"
The…roof…? Blankly, Seto looked at him.
"The roof, Seto!" Mokuba shook him, still upset. "What were you doing on the roof?! At this time of night?! It's nearly dawn!"
"I…" Kaiba had nothing to say, could think of nothing to say. Memories of darkness, of chaos and a kiss…
His little brother swallowed, pressing against him once more. "Were you dreaming? Did you see something?"
If Seto was hallucinating still…
"I…I'm not sure." The eldest male's voice was soft, unsure. "I can't remember much, only snatches
(ruby eyes)
of things. A few
(warmth, lips parted beneath his own, hands wrapped around his neck)
images, flashes, flickers,
(kingdoms, the sun exploding, kings, conquerors, the birth and death of life)
but that's it. I-" Kaiba pressed a hand to his lips, moving them instead to his forehead. "I don't…" He trailed off. "When did the rain stop?"
If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
Mokuba looked at his brother like he was crazy. "The rain? What does the rain have to do with anything?"
(Rain and water, splashes at his feet, droplets sliding over his arms and face and legs and chest, covering him, wading through confusion and bending and conception and twisting and rippling.)
Blue eyes focused, fixing on the perplexed face of their younger brother. "I have no idea…"
Mokuba was worried…but he carefully helped Seto back to his feet again, standing alongside him. A gentle tug at his brother's hand. "Watch the sunrise with me Seto?"
(…white and black and colours a taste upon his tongue, shades a flavour he could understand and divide. He could see the world, many worlds, smell them, feel them, watch them be born and die with but a glance at the shadow against him, see a billion stars explode and crumble and the universe itself collapse. He could feel a million souls laugh and cry, all the peoples that would ever be and been an image in his mind, a flash, a flicker…)
Kaiba nodded.
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
The sun rose, as it always did, the rays creeping over the horizon, colouring the sky with pink and gold. Old as time and beautiful, glorious, rays kissing the faces of the two Kaibas, standing watching on their rain-drenched roof.
The dawn.
And with it, the dawn chorus bursting into song, the world waking and their dreams fading, escaping the light of the sun. The morning was alive; the shadows chased away, reality fixed upon the fiery orb that rose steadily higher in the sky. The symbol of life and hope, and day.
It took little time for Mokuba to drag his brother back inside the house and along to his bedroom, but he worried all the way. Watching his brother before had been frightening; Seto had seemed so lost. A wraith, clad only in rain-soaked white, thin and fading away before his eyes. Slipping, swaying…Seto could have died, would have died if he hadn't grabbed him.
And Seto wasn't…there…
"Nii-san?" A tug at his brother's arm, unfocused blue eyes fixing on Mokuba. "Are you alright?"
Aquamarine, confused by the question. "Of course Mokuba." As if this were a perfectly normal day, with a perfectly normal opening. As if Seto hadn't nearly just fallen off the roof of their mansion.
Mokuba's worry increased.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream…
Blue eyes staring out of a pane of glass, wide and tall and as long as his room. His office. His home away from home at KaibaCorp.
Mokuba had called in the doctors again after his little misadventure on the mansion rooftop a few weeks ago, but they'd been unable to find anything wrong with him, other than a new inclination to stare off into space more often. He was fine, they'd said, and so he'd been allowed to return to work, the virus and fever completely out of his system. Mokuba, still worried, had been reluctant to let him go.
It was a relief to get out of the house, he was sick of being confined within his own home. He wanted to be outside, breathing fresh air…and besides, his office at KaibaCorp – though inside – had a huge window.
And it was this very same window he was looking out of, watching dusk slowly fade to night, and all the lights in his home city of Domino slowly twinkle into life.
The night was alive.
The tell-tale tingle of his skin gave it away; the life he breathed in from the night-breeze was cool and fresh, the sound of darkness falling, wrapping arms around the world and him.
Lips pressed against his neck, a half-smile forming against his skin as slender arms twined about his waist.
A remembered mouth trailing up his neck, a soft kiss behind his ear. A soft voice to match:
"Come with me."
Owari.
Shadow: (sweatdrops) Leave a review? This was a strange piece, even for me...