AN This story consists of three parts. The title is as much a reference to the story structure as the relationship between Seto and Jou. The first and third part are thoughts, first Seto then Jou, the middle part is descriptive, a setting, not really relevant, but it's also a description of a part of Seto and Jou's relationship almost from an outsider's point of view. The middle part is 'embraced' by the two other ones. Okay I was foundering for a title and this sounded deep. I called it train first, but then the train part became inferior to the entirety of the story.

Just read and enjoy. Hope you like it. It's a one-shot, nothing fancy.


I am tired. Not simply weary of a day's work, but exhausted beyond comprehension. I know he'll see it. He sees everything. I never thought anyone would know me better than Mokuba does, but he does.

It's cold without him, always cold. That's why I'm heading home, even at this ungodly hour. I need his warmth, his presence. It's frightening sometimes, how much I need him. I wish I didn't, but I know I don't want to miss him. I hate being dependent and I love it that I have him, all of him.

It's contradiction, one he created. Of course, he is a contradiction all on his own. He is loud-mouthed, impulsive, brash. He is gentle, responsive, attentive. He is a child, playful, curious. And yet he takes care of both me and Mokuba, making sure I eat breakfast, checking Mokuba's homework.

I don't understand how he can be like that. He's so open, so trusting. I could never be like that. Maybe I should be. Because how can I be his, if I won't open up?

I look forward to being home. I want to walk through our door, sleep in our bed. I want to hold him, smell him, know him right beside me. I want to hold onto him as long as I can, because I don't know when I'll no longer be able to.

"Always," he says.

But how can you be sure, Jou? How do I know you'll always stay with me? You may not mean to leave me, but anything can happen. And I cannot stand losing you. But I canot push you away either, in hopes I'll never get hurt. You have wormed your way into my heart long ago and lodged yourself so firmly, I cannot possibly pry you loose.

Don't let yourself be torn away, Jou, please.

The train rushed through the night. A long row of yellow squares, lined by soft blue seats tow per side. It was late and the compartments were nearly empty. A single figure sat by the window, slouching in the blue seat.

The outside world was dark and strange, the deep black littered with small sourced of light. Freeways crossing and meeting, visible only by the yellow streetlights, long rows of yellow dots forming an intricate pattern. What would it look like flying over it? A sign to alien invaders? A failed attempt at a Mondriaan sketch?

One freeway accompanied the railroad tracks. The reflection of the train's insides in the window was nearly too bright to make it out. The lanes going in the opposite direction of the train were busier than the ones following the train.

Empty eyes looked through their reflection at the freeway curving away from the tracks to create space for a restaurant, the parking lot empty save for a few large trucks. The freeway curved back into position.

Sudden close range neon lighting distracted the eyes. A train station. For some tiny speck of a settlement ignored by the suburban train. The speed of passing made it impossible to make out a name. Who would live there? What would be the closest town? What would it be like to live in a place without a shopping mall?

A plane flew in a trajectory perpendicular to the rail tracks. The landing gear was down. The lights at the tips of the wings flashed.

Pointless observations.

The cold outside world continued to rush past the window. Another flash of a train station, bigger this time. Office buildings illuminated the night, workaholics moving within their offices. Late-night meetings, conference calls, deals abroad, the young long-legged secretary, all reasons to work overtime deep into the night.

The train slowed. Streaks of nearby light changed to separate dots. The tracks multiplied, fanning out, joining with a ling from the west. A road past underneath, an exit ending in a ragged parking lot between the tracks, pink busstop-boots providing little shelter for the few girls desperate enough to brave the cold for a little money.

Platforms appeared, the train smoothly gliding next to one of them. The benches were empty. One late night traveller waiting for his own train to come in at a different platform, cast an uninterested glance at the incoming transport. Underneath one of the harsh neon lights a janitor in an orange jacket was taking a smoke, a broom leaning against his shoulder.

The train stopped, the breaks groaning. Before it could retire for the night, it had another two of these stations to attend where no-one wanted to get on or off.

But no. The single passenger took his leave, exiting the train and heading for the stairs. Huddled in his coat, he clutched a briefcase in his gloved hand. He seemed out of place at the empty station, striding with the nervous confidence of someone too stubborn to admit the environment was at least somewhat unfamiliar. With a puff of the hydrolics the doors closed. Slowly the wheels started to turn and with gathering speed the train continued its journey though the night.

Upstairs the hall was as desolate as the platform. A single homeless man had curled upon a bench with his belongings in a plastic bag serving as a pillow. The shops were closed and locked tight. One ticket booth was still manned by someone hidden behind a magazine.

Dress shoes tapped on the grey tiles. The automatic doors at the ens off the hall swooshed open, a wave of cold hitting the late night traveller. The quare was scarcely illuminated, a stark contrast to the bright hall behind him. He headed for the traffic lights to his left, on stand-by because of the lack of traffic.

"I got your massage." The minimal light revealed another night-owl.

"You didn't have to come." A smile.

"I thought you would like a shawl." White gloved hands wrapped the dark-blue wool around the traveller's neck, tucking the edge in the collar tenderly.

"Thank you."

On of the hands drifted down, following an arm. Ending up in the coat pocket fingers entwined and the two began walking.

The streets were as empty as the station. One man was walking his dog. A single car drove by. Most windows were dark.

The further the two walked, the more the apartment building gave way to two or three story houses. The streetlights spread a soft yellow glow. The trees were bares, most leaves since long raked away from the road.

A few stars managed to shine through the grey-black streaks of cloud. The moon was hidden.

"Not too miffed the car broke down?"

"Hn."

Their breaths formed momentary puffs before dissipating.

"Where's the driver?"

"Hotel. He'll get the car fixed tomorrow."

The gates opened with the swipe of a card. The driveway wasn't all that long, nor was the house all that big, a comfortable size for a family of eight. Of course, only three people currently lived in it.

The door didn't make a sound when opened. A flick of a switched and the hall was bathed in light. When the heavy winter coats were peeled off, they revealed two young men too different in looks to be related.

"Why didn't you book a room for the night yourself?" the blond one asked.

"Why should I?"

The blond one hung up his coat. "It would have saved you the time of the journey home. Tomorrow's you day off. Plenty of time."

With a laugh the brunet pulled the other close. "I don't want to wake up in a cold hotel room on my day off." He stifled a yawn. "Can we just go to bed?"

"Sure."

One led the other up the stairs, down the hall, to their bedroom. With a familiarity that told of years of intimacy, they went though the motions of preparing for bed. Two bodies curled up underneath the covers. A pale arm curled around a tan torso. A face was half buried in the soft blond hair. Amber eyes stared into the darkness.


He works too hard, always has, of course. I wish he hadn't wasted so much time on the train home, though it's great having him here. He needs his rest. Good thing he didn't see me hide the alarm. No electronic wake up call tomorrow. I have that stupid buzz.

He's very warm, holding on to me like that. Most people don't see, he doesn't really wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's very kind and gentle. And fragile. He won't lower his defences until he's absolutely sure the other cannot damage him permanently. It's happened, you know. And it's very difficult to regain confidence and trust in yourself and other people. He'll never be really open of course, but I wouldn't want him to be.

It's selfish, I know. I see how he acts even in company of our friends and he never truly relaxes. Mokuba and I are the only ones who get to see him with all his defences down. It makes me feel special and privileged. And honoured.

I recognize how unique his gift is. And i know that subconsciously he still has some fear that I will one day leave him, despite my reassurances otherwise.

"But can you be sure?" he asks.

You can't, Seto. Emotions cannot be determined by calculations, cannot be described in binary numbers or explained by logic. Love is a wild leap off a cliff without a parachute and you don't know how far deep down the bottom is, but as long as you stay in the air, it's okay. And maybe, just maybe, the other one, the one you jumped off the cliff for, manages to give you wings so you'll never hit ground floor.

I've already given you your wings, Seto. When will you open them?