Ummm... so, sorry to everybody following Look After You ;-; I guess this is what happens when I start a story without knowing how it's going to end-I mull it over for years and still only have the vaguest idea of how I want the plot to go. But I'm only mostly dead! To prove it, here's the start of a one-shot collection. I post these periodically to tumblr, and I figured I might as well have a gathering spot for them here at ff. Enjoy?

Yugi tapped the back end of his pen forcibly against his notebook as the same opening notes of the same song trilled out of the same cheap computer stereo. Writing had never been his strong suit, but for some reason (not that he was pointing fingers or anything) the intricacies of language seemed even further from his grasp than usual. To make things worse, a dull throb between his eyes promised to become an impressive headache if he couldn't get this essay wrapped up soon.

Focus, he told himself sternly, hoping to block out all external noise. Okay, the French Revolution… the French… Revolution…

The singer's voice ululated the words to the first verse in a way that might have been exotic if he hadn't heard it forty-eight times that day alone, and his mind blanked once more.

With a pointed sigh, Yugi flopped backwards against his bed, throwing an exasperated hand across his face for good measure. Only after a few moments in this exaggerated pose did he peek through his fingers. His other self hadn't even budged from his awkwardly hunched position in front of the computer.

Oh yes, it had definitely been a mistake to introduce him to Duel Monsters Online.

With all of the intensity of his burning stare directed at the screen, Atem seemed completely unaware of his surroundings. In fact, Yugi wondered if he would even notice if his music were to suddenly be switched off. It was possible that he wasn't listening anymore, possible that he'd even forgotten it was playing. Surreptitiously, he reached a hand for the volume…

Blinking, Atem emerged from his stupor and looked around. "I'm listening to that."

"Oh!" Yugi snatched back his hand as if burned, flushing. "Oh, sorry!"

"It's no problem."

One beat. Two beats. Finally, Yugi couldn't help himself.

"…Still?"

"It's a good song," his other self said absently, a slight frown of concentration marring his forehead. "It doesn't bother you, does it?"

Kill me now, Yugi's brain responded, but a lifetime of conditioning himself to cause the least amount of disturbance to others as possible at his own expense had other ideas.

"Of course not," his mouth said instead, stretching into a strained rictus of a smile. "It's… catchy."

It was a horrible attempt at a lie, even by his standards, but Atem was too distracted by his game to notice. The smirk that suddenly graced his features was incredibly familiar, and Yugi knew without looking at the screen that he must have just activated a trap. Meanwhile, the first chorus of the song had ended and the second verse was starting. Fantastic.

Sighing once more, he turned back to his essay, wishing for about the millionth time that he hadn't left his headphones on the bus in a fit of absent-mindedness the other day. What was it about this song that made Atem want to play it over and over, day after day after day? It had a bit of a Middle Eastern flair to it—maybe there was some bit of rhythm or melody or instrument that reminded him of Egypt, and of home? Come to think of it, there probably hadn't been as much variation in music back then as there was today. Maybe Atem was used to listening to the same types of songs all the time, so his liberal use of the "repeat song" setting seemed natural to him?

Yes, there were many reasonable explanations for his other self's behavior. That wasn't enough to keep Yugi from stuffing his face in his pillow in a silent scream when the chorus started up again.

By the time the second chorus was over, Yugi still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask Atem to switch the music off, or even just change songs (which was stupid really, because it wasn't like he was asking a big favor or anything and of course his other self would do it the moment Yugi asked… but old habits died hard). He had just decided to write his essay downstairs and risk becoming the family errand boy when he felt warm fingers run across his back. Stiffening in surprise, he glanced sideways to where Atem sat in front of the laptop. Although outwardly he seemed intent on the game as usual, his other self had leaned over to reach a hand across the bed, and was rubbing Yugi's back almost absently.

With a muffled groan of appreciation, Yugi slumped forward. The grinding notes of that stupid repetitive song faded into the background, no longer as teeth-settingly obnoxious as they'd been moments before. He was being ridiculous, of course. His other self had his quirks—most of which were endearing, some of which were bizarre, and one in particular that drove Yugi up a wall—but he cared. It was nice to know that even when distracted, even when playing a game, even when he appeared entirely oblivious… Atem would always care, and there was no need to tiptoe around him like he'd been doing recently.

I guess it's not that bad, Yugi thought lazily as the song wound to an end, the last few echoey notes fading into a peaceful silence.

Then it started again, those same opening notes of that same song trilling out of the same cheap computer stereo, and he remembered. Yes. Yes, it was that bad.

"I'm going out," Yugi announced, sitting up so suddenly that Atem jumped, startled. "Be back in a few, other me. Good luck with your game."

Grabbing a jacket, Yugi slipped into the closest pair of shoes he could find and was out the door without a backwards glance, tumbling down the stairs, past his family, and out into the cool spring evening. Enough was enough. He had errands to run.

YOU: 450 LP OPPONENT: 0 LP

VICTORY

Atem leaned back, a satisfied grin maneuvering across his face as his fingers tapped absently to the music. That had been a much more challenging battle than usual, and not for the first time he wondered who was doing battle on the other side of the screen. Surely Kaiba was too busy to waste time dueling amateurs online… but then, the deck Atem had faced was unfamiliar, and he was certain that his rival had too much pride to duel with any deck but his own. An up-and-coming duelist, then. Interesting.

A request popped up almost instantly from his opponent for a rematch, and Atem's cursor hovered briefly over the accept button before, with a cursory shake of his head, he instead closed out of the program. The setting sun outside indicated the lateness of the hour, and besides, he didn't quite have the stamina for staring at computer screens that his partner had developed. Any longer and he'd be struck with a blinding headache, as had happened too many times before.

Downstairs, the front door opened and closed, and Atem brightened. He hoped Yugi's walk had done him some good. Although the strength of their previous bond was now a tenuous, fragmented thing, his partner's rising irritation over the past few hours had been palpable. Atem's mind strayed longingly to a couple months into the future, when Yugi's studies would be completed and high school become a thing of the past. All of this stress could not be healthy, right?

Humming the last few notes of his song—poorly, as the gods had not seen fit to bless him with the gift of tune—Atem swung around in his chair at the sound of Yugi's footsteps.

"Aibou," he greeted with a smile. "How was your w—?"

He was cut off by a bag shoved in his face. Blinking in surprise, he looked up to see a strangely manic smile fixed on Yugi's face.

"Happy birthday," he said, his high voice lilting strangely, and Atem frowned in confusion.

"But it's not my— I don't even know when—"

Yugi's eye twitched, and Atem's protests died in his throat as he mutely accepted the bag. He'd been under the impression that birthday presents were traditionally wrapped, but it seemed a dangerous move to bring this point up now. Hesitantly, he peered inside.

"Headphones," his partner prompted as he removed the small box. "The best I could afford. We needed them anyway since I lost mine this week." Atem examined them closely, searching for some hidden meaning, but he could think of nothing.

"I… thank you," Atem said, moving to set the box aside, but Yugi shook his head, pushing the box insistently against Atem's chest.

"Use them," he said, teeth gritted. "Now. Please?"

Atem looked from Yugi, to the box, to the computer, to the box, and to Yugi once more. Finally, the ball dropped.

"My music disturbs you?"

The sheer frustration of his partner's responding whine was answer enough.

"How do you do it?" Yugi ranted as he flopped across his bed, flipping violently through the pages of his textbook. "The same song, over and over? Ten times, okay. Fifty times, you're pushing it. But two-hundred and eighty three times? I can't even begin to imagine how somebody could…"

Recognizing that Yugi was mostly ranting to himself at this point and that there was no real malice behind the words, Atem unwrapped the headphones and plugged them into the jack, smiling to himself as his partner's flow of words collapsed into a deep, relieved sigh. He didn't have to ask to understand why Yugi had not simply requested that he turn the music off—they'd been partners for too long. He'd find some way to make it up to him, to remind Yugi that there was no request too large or too small that it would risk driving Atem away. That he didn't have to try so carefully to protect Atem from disappointment, or hurt feelings. That they were in this together, for better or for worse.

In the meantime, he thought as he settled the headphones around his ears and relaxed into the familiar melody, he was more than happy to listen privately to the song that reminded him so much of his aibou.