Eyes can appreciate aesthetics.
A particular girl in my school is exceptionally eye-catching—blonde hair, fair skin, heart-shaped face, luring eyes, luscious lips, and voluptuous figure.
Mai Kujaku is a classic showstopper, but I find myself falling for her geeky younger brother instead.
Yugi Mutou—geek, short, male.
Notice that I'm insulting him on purpose. It's a way of dissuading myself from falling further. Not that it's working... My eyes are trying to see through that ugly sweater of his. Damn this unfounded infatuation!
How did I fall for this guy?
Not to flaunt my ego or anything, but I'm quite popular. I've got girls nipping at my heels—yet I'm chasing after this midget.
Yes, I might be gay. (I'm still halfway through my denial, so let's just go for bisexual.)
No, I'm not narcissistic. The only thing physically similar between us is our hairdo.
I'm taller than him.
"What is it?"
"Huh?"
"You were staring at me."
"No, I wasn't." I was trying to see through your clothes and was thinking about you, and you just happened to be there.
"Oh... Uh, okay," he says, scratching his cheek with his finger and sporting a blush—and, no, I don't think it's cute!
He may look harmless, but don't let looks deceive you.
He doesn't completely conform to the typical geek's mold. For one, he's a fighter.
He transferred at the middle of the school year. He was four inches short of five feet and an instant teacher's pet—in other words, fresh meat for bullies. In fact, the predators' eyes zoned in on him on his first day of school. My locker was coincidentally next to his, so I had a front row seat to the whole incident.
The crowd parted like the red sea as Ushio, public enemy no.1 and self-proclaimed hall monitor, passed through, looming over the populace (and even more so on petite Yugi) with his mammoth height. With his lackeys in tow, it was no doubt the welcome wagon. They were on their daily patrol, making a special detour to greet the new customer and collect the down payment for their future services. (They were bodyguards for forced hiring, paid to protect you from themselves.) But they couldn't even get a yen out of Yugi.
As it turned out, Yugi was stingy with his money. Angry words couldn't persuade him.
Ushio threatened him with a fist, but Yugi didn't take it lying down—instead with a flying kick to the crotch. It was impressive if not mildly frightening how he got the boulder of a man, Ushio, on his knees and squeaking like a rodent. I wasn't sure if that had been a wise move on Yugi's part—Ushio was a vindictive troll and was bound to take revenge sooner than later—but I knew that I'd hate to be at the receiving end of either of their wraths.
Yugi lost the teachers' favors the same day he received them but regained some just as quickly; he was splendid in Math and fluent in English. Ms. Chono, the-school-vixen-also-Japanese-teacher, however, disliked him—Yugi was atrocious with kanji and sibling to Domino High's hottest chick a.k.a. competition.
Ushio didn't show his ugly mug for four days straight. It was a celebrated holiday for his victims (quarter of the student body). Yugi's kick had been too hard a blow to both his balls and ego, and it took Ushio three days to recuperate and one more to plot his revenge.
Yugi became a legend, but nevertheless remained unnoticed. It was akin to David and Goliath, except nobody could pinpoint who David was. Yugi was spontaneous with disappearing acts: He didn't eat at the cafeteria and was rarely seen in the hallways yet never late for class. Also, the incident with Ushio had been brief, and nobody had a good look at Yugi. All they knew was that the student was short and had a distinguishable hairstyle; some even thought it was me (and I was kind of offended by that because I wasn't that short).
When Ushio returned, he reported to the principal. Yugi pleaded self-defense and was let go without consequence. The principal didn't believe that such a frail looking teen could beat a giant like Ushio. Plus, Yugi played the innocent quite well: He could cry on cue. I know because I was brought in as a witness.
Ushio cornered Yugi later that day.
Yugi's foot did an encore on Ushio's balls.
I had a feeling that he could usurp Ushio's throne if he wanted to.
Despite the ass-kicking he's done, he is still a geek.
Living up to his name, he's an avid gamer and plays a wide variety of games. His favorite is a card game called Duel Monsters. He can spiel off about that topic for hours if he wanted to. He even brings his deck to school—that ever-present bulge in his right pocket—and it's the game's logo and characters that are often printed on his graphic tees.
His clothes are not flattering at all. His shirts are a size bigger than it should be, the sleeves almost past his elbows and much wider than his arms, and his pants are meant for someone taller, the ends rumpling on his shoes and reaching a bit to the floor. I wonder if he has this illusion of being tall or having the right build to fit those clothes of his.
Those thick-framed glasses don't accentuate his features either. Black rim glasses are in style, but I'm sure he could make do without them. The thick lenses obscure those pretty eyes of his. Such a pity.
He has amethyst irises, more attractive than Kujaku's plain violets. (The eyes and the pallid skin are the only similar traits between the siblings.)
On his way to his seat, his glasses got knocked off by an accidental bump from our classmate. They fell near my shoe, I picked it up for him, and our eyes met for two seconds before he took the glasses back. It was merely a glimpse, but I was enraptured.
It wasn't love at first sight. The first time I saw him had been by the lockers—when he kicked Ushio's crotch before fleeing the next second—and my heart hadn't been beating loudly then. Not even during that time in the classroom with him sans the glasses. But those eyes did linger in the back of my mind. Still, it wasn't a crush.
I was just appreciating aesthetics.
I decided to steal—hide his glasses one time.
I had never seen him so clumsy.
He bumped into tables.
He ran into doors.
He hit a wall when he turned a corner.
He tripped on the stairs.
I broke his fall.
We ended up in a provocative position—chest to chest, me on the bottom, my arm around his waist, his hands clutching my shoulders, my legs apart, and him almost kneeing me on the groin. Our faces were inches from meeting. My cheeks were seconds from flaring while his were already putting tomatoes to shame.
His eyes were wide and clear aubergines, a captivating view.
The world stilled for a second.
I thought I should annihilate those glasses for good.
"Y-Yami!?"
"Ah... yeah."
"S-sorry," he stuttered, frantically untangling himself from me. "Can't see without my glasses."
They were prescription glasses. Oops.
I returned them later in English class. He accepted my apology with ease.
"So, you're nearsighted?"
"That's an understatement. Didn't you notice how thick my lenses were when you stole them?"
"Really sorry about that."
"It's okay. At least, you returned them. Unlike other people..."
"Ever heard of contact lenses?"
"I have a firm belief that my eyeballs should not make contact with my fingers, or else they'll get intimate with my nails, and I'll be blinder than I already am." That was the most words I'd ever heard him say.
Yugi turns talkative when in English.
The teacher has keen ears for vernaculars and a sharp ruler for those who speak it during class; rule no.1 is 'speak English or don't speak at all,' and the students follow it meticulously. It's to Yugi's advantage since he's a transferee from the States. His awkward Japanese is often misconstrued as timidness. Given that the language spoken is English, he can actually hold a conversation.
Since then, I've been speaking the language when I'm with him. And I'm with him often at school.
I just have this urge to hover around him.
"Ushio still bothering you?"
"Yeah. He's still sour about his balls."
"You did kick them pretty hard. And twice."
"It's not my fault that they're so sensitive. He shouldn't have forced his condoms on me."
"...Condoms?"
"He said I should pay for 'protection.' No way am I gonna waste my money on something I can't even use."
"You just implied that you're a virgin."
"You're not?"
Cough. Awkward. "Not telling."
"Anyways, is Ushio a masochist or something? I've made it painfully clear that I'm not buying what he's selling, yet he still keeps coming back. Is he dumb? Maybe a kick to the head would fix that. I should do that next time."
"There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, Yugi."
"Then, I must be valiant."
He doesn't kick Ushio on the head the next day. He says his leg couldn't reach. I counter, "You're just too short," and earn a punch on the shoulder. It almost hurt.
"Pot calling the kettle black," he mutters before entering the classroom. I follow after.
We sit on our respective seats as the bell rings.
The teacher starts his discussion, writing on the board and speaking consecutively. His words come out as a drawl, going inside one ear and out the other. I'm more conscious of the jotting pens, especially the one on the adjacent desk, where Yugi sits. I'm trying to see through that ugly sweater again. He notices because I'm not being discreet, and he's a bit paranoid.
He turns red when I stare too long. His face is starting to match his hooded sweater. He wears a red one often because the color camouflages with the lockers littering the hallways—it's a tactic for evading bullies. He has dealt with a lot of them back in the States, and years of practice made him skilled at hiding. If possible, he'd rather avoid confrontations, but he wouldn't hesitate to fight if needed.
There's a bruise on his wrist.
I wonder if he got it from Ushio.
As for how I know so much details about Yugi...
No, I'm not a stalker.
I'm cousins with Seto Kaiba—he's an omniscient being—and we gossip... ?
Our mothers said make nice; random talks about random topics were the most we indifferent sons bothered with.
Seto's too smart for high school. He's a conglomorateur's son, already helping out in the business as a director. He's only here because of Aunt's orders (she wants him to make friends). Also, he's the reigning champion of Duel Monsters, and he's acquaintances—he abhors the word 'friends'—with Yugi.
I just made use of the serendipity.
Wolf whistles signal Kujaku and her clique's arrival.
Kujaku walks like she's on a runway, chin up, posture straight, heels clicking. Her blonde locks flow languidly behind her, trailed by her many admirers' eyes. She passes by without glancing our way. (Her friends wave to me, though.) Yugi doesn't make a show of knowing her either.
"Isn't Kujaku your sister? I've never seen you interact before," I say when she's out of earshot.
"How did you know that?" His brows furrow in suspicion.
"Seto."
"That blabbermouth. Should've known. It's always the quiet one that spills your secrets."
"It's a secret? I'm sure that the faculty knows, though. Haven't you notice Ms. Chono's glares."
"No, it's not a secret. I'm just trying to be discreet. Mai doesn't want people to know we're related. She doesn't really like me, so she keeps her distance."
"Why so?"
"She's too proud to hang-out with her bastard brother."
"Oh."
"It's okay. I don't like that stuck-up legit daughter either."
The sigh that follows entails that there's more to it than that, but it's too personal for me to ask.
There's always the omniscient Seto if I ever want to know.