Moments, hours, days, months, years.
Years of unsure hands and anxious tongues. Of celebration, dismality- of melancholy, of exuberance. Of rips, tears, and mends. Hearts drawn in fogged mirrors. Misread vows- tongue tied at the altar; shaking fingers adorning golden bands. Of encouragement, of prudent argument. Shared bed, shared showers, shared thoughts, speech, ideas. Of sitcom quotes at horrendously inappropriate times, of muffled laughs and jabbing elbows. Incessant insistence. Bad dreams, lightning strikes. Of screaming and of weeping, and of the tenderness post. Games too competitive. Battles between mind, heart, soul. Dancing, humming, swaying hips. First dates, first kisses, first quivering confessions to which would bind them. Two forms in sync without acknowledgement. Two minds in sync with vibrant contemplation. Of blind ambition, and irony pooling at their feet.
Flame and chill intertwining through ages. Lies and detection. Fears and exposure. Agonizing midnights.
Above and beyond. Low, slow. Touches and kisses and pounding hearts. Countless losses- and victories that much sweeter.
"I love you," Yuugi would say, intoxicated upon the cool shimmers of night.
And the lips pressed to his navel would flex with used words. "I know."
Always, then, moonlight would illuminate the soft curve of his smile.
Malicious, the proclamation was not. Merely voiced, the intuition placed by millions of identical statements in years previous. Kaiba had most certainly become aware of such a thing; he was loved, and he knew he was loved. And Yuugi likewise knew of the lush affection aimed toward himself.
A symbiotic system of sharp minds and fluttering hearts. Together they had remained through a decade; naturally, routine developed.
Aches and breaks and ridiculous sopping messes of romance.
"I mean it," he'd insist. "I'm in love with you."
The touch trailing his skin would pause, pause to intake the beauty of it all, and Kaiba would say, "I know."
And in moments hardly as lustful- perhaps the length lapsing after such a deed had unfolded -they lay beside one another, serene and satisfied. With his brain still glowing, Kaiba'd idly touch the ring on Yuugi's third finger, then bend his left hand as to feel his own. And he'd remember; remember years of humid summer nights and cool winter mornings, waking at five or sleeping until noon. Having his tie straightened by little fingers, kisses to his cheeks and coffees in his hands. Endless rounds of cards, competitive games of both board and video; losing sorely or gloating a triumph- the former more prevalent, he detested admission to.
Kaiba would indeed carry such memories, would indeed then notice his companion's easy unconsciousness, would plant lips to his forehead. And he'd allow himself to linger- because no one else needed to know. Only he and his match- only Kaiba and Yuugi.
Which, precisely, is how it would remain in decades that followed. Two souls existing within the same bounds, flame and chill intertwining, to stay together and create years of this and years of that; years of passion and of love. Of moments to stick within their hearts, till death do they part.
Years, months, days, hours, moments.