Bloodline
Plenoptic
I've been trying to write this fanfic for six months. SIX. MONTHS. This is my gazillion and first attempt, partially because I can't decide what I want Isfet to be like. I figured I'd go with some flashbacks and incorporate both ideal personalities.
There are a lot of OC's in this fic, but the original characters will appear all the time, so don't be hatin', yeah?
Please enjoy, please review, in that order.
Like a line out of a bad fan fiction, like a whispered reference to a Shakespeare play, the rain came pouring down. The alley in which he sat provided little relief: he could feel the rain running down his back, slipping down the soft strands of black hair, dripping from his lips as if each drop were a replacement for a tear. His ethereal blue eyes were now blank, unseeing.
He could feel his world crashing down around his ears. He wanted to hold his head and scream, but his arms were numb and his voice was long gone. He wanted to curse the world and everyone in it, but there were people in that world that were precious to him. Precious hearts that were just as broken as his.
The events of the past few years raced through his mind at thousands of miles an hour, making his heart hammer against his rib cage. His mother's pale, dead face. His softly crying baby brother, whose birth had christened his mother's death, rejected by his father. His sister, staring blankly at him, the tears dripping slowly off her white cheeks, her voice gone. His blessed little brother, simply vanished off the face of the earth. The stupor that had descended upon Kaiba Corporation, the absolute silence, the lack of life in a place once so bustling and lively. The life belonging to Seto Kaiba that he himself had tried to take, because a life without her simply wasn't worth living…
"Isfet?"
He didn't respond to her voice, nor to the worn sneakers that appeared toe-to-toe with hers. Yuri Mutou crouched down, the rain calming her normally wild brown hair. She reached out, hesitant, her green eyes trying to capture his. She touched his head gently, stroking his bangs from his face.
"You're going to catch pneumonia or something. Please, go home."
He said nothing. His throat was empty, his heart was empty. There were no words left to speak.
"Isfet?"
He should say something. Anything. He didn't want her to worry.
"Does being at home really hurt that much?"
"…What home?"
There was a silence, broken only by the soft pittering of the easing rain. Yuri moved forward, hesitant, but after a moment wrapped her arms around his shoulders, drawing him close.
"Come on," she whispered helplessly, gently stroking his soft hair. "Come on…"
-
Isfet Kaiba sat still on their couch, hands clasped around the mug of tea but his mouth not drinking; a blanket around his shoulders but his body not warm. Eyes open but not seeing. Everything felt numb. Everything. The lights were bright and comforting. The shelves, colorful, lined with various gaming merchandise, were familiar.
Yet Isfet felt that he could just drop off the face of the earth and no one would notice.
The door opened and closed. Yugi Mutou seated himself in a chair across from the couch, propping his elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between his legs. Thinking. Quiet. Isfet wasn't a stranger in his house. The teenager was a common sight on Yugi's couch when things got too rough at home. But he'd never run to the Mutous (or rather, been dragged) in so disheveled a state.
"What's wrong?" Yugi asked at last, but Isfet simply shook his head. The numbness was easing a bit, letting the pain back in. He preferred the numbness.
"Is it your father?"
Isfet half shrugged, half shook his head. He didn't know.
"Is it your mother?"
"Dunno."
"Your brother?"
He was starting to feel hot. Not cold, not numb. Hot. Anger, rising in him, hate, fury, pain--he couldn't distinguish one from the other.
"Your sister?"
"I don't know…" The door opened a crack; Yuri was listening in. It was okay. It didn't add to the rage he felt building inside of him, but it sure as hell didn't really help.
Hot--
"Who is it, Isfet?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
The explosion was so abrupt it shocked them; Isfet was suddenly on his feet, eyes finally seeing, feeling hot, his mouth shouting. His frustration, his anger, his suffering, it had to come out!
"I DON'T KNOW!" he repeated, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "I don't know! It's--it's all of them, dammit!"
His strength was out. He was so tired. So tired. So cold. He just needed it to end. And Isfet Kaiba collapsed, dropping his butt onto the couch, and cried. Dropped his face into his hands and cried, because a good release was a long time coming.
It was five years late.
Yuri came in, sat down beside him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Yugi was silent for a time, watching his daughter and his surrogate son, before coming to a decision.
"I'm going to call your father."
-
"Isfet?"
He tightened his jaw, but his heart jumped. He'd rarely heard his father's voice the past five years. Everytime it shocked him, now more than ever. Normally it was a whisper, almost a whimper; but the confidence was back, the pride. The strength.
Seto Kaiba hovered in the door for a time. Not sure how to approach. Not sure how he was supposed to handle this. As a father, of course, but…how did one go about doing that?
He moved forward to sit down on the coffee table. Chewed on his lip for a moment, pondered. "Isfet?" he tried again, and this time his son glanced upwards for a moment. Seto was shocked by his child's appearance; there were dark, deep circles beneath Isfet's eyes, and his face was so pale it was frightening. Come to think of it, since when had Isfet dyed his hair black?
"Isfet," Seto repeated, more to say his son's name than anything else; this time, his voice sounded broken. "I'm--sorry. I'm so sorry, Isfet."
There was a silence. After a moment, Isfet spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
"Me too."
Seto drew a deep, shuddering breath, suddenly struggling not to cry. "You dyed your hair," he managed to choke out, and Isfet nodded once.
"Like it?"
"Hate it."
Isfet laughed. Almost. It was halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I thought you would."
"Will you bleach it back?"
"For sure."
"…Your mother had white hair."
"I know."
And Seto launched himself forward, seizing his son and embracing him tightly, pressing Isfet's face into his shoulder, winding his fingers into his firstborn's soft, messy hair.
"Let's go home, kiddo," he murmured. "Let's go home."
First chapter is kind of short, I know. The next one (provided I get around to it) will be much longer, as it will be starting up the actual story. There isn't one yet. I'll figure out a plot somewhere around chapter five, I'm sure of it. :D Please review. Reviews are nice.