The act will be pulled out perfectly. Just like every other one I've made in my life.
I will walk through that crowded place, full of strangers that make me feel sick; but I'll wear a smile on my face. Of course, nobody will realize how much I am suffering in that moment, or how frightened I am to look at them in the eyes.
Of course not. Because I have always been a good actor.
The horrible, accusative voices in my head will scream and fight to get out, but the roar of my motorcycle will fade them.
My mind will become numb, and I will only concentrate in those in front of me, in not discover my façade. Obviously I won't; I've never done it. I have become too used to pretend and lie in order to get what I want; it's just a mere routine to me.
Then I will stand in front of them, and another voice in my subconscious, a much darker one, will tell me to kill them and run while I still can. But the noises of the street will shush it.
I will look at them, but they won't suspect how much misery and hate I'm bearing. And they won't pity me; I couldn't tolerate it.
They won't know that I still dream of darkness surrounding their frames and consuming them until nothing is left, while I laugh and laugh. Sometimes I wonder if it's even me, or someone who looks like me.
They won't know how much hate I bare for everything: the world, myself…him.
I won't let them know that I still clench my teeth at the sight of his name, and I still expect him to die at my hands. No, they won't discover my act.
In the boat, I will be silent sometimes, and my nee-san will ask me if something is wrong. I will say I'm just tired, that's all. Above all people, I won't let her know. I will breathe deeply and be glad her eyes are always so expressionless, because it would be terrifying to know what is crossing her mind when she looks at me right now.
It would be terrifying to know what every single of them thinks of me right now.
At the deck of the ship, they will try to be friendly, and start a mindless chat, trying in vain to make me feel include. They won't know how much I hate that, and how much I want to scream to them to leave me alone; that I have and will always hate pity.
But despite that, they will still look me with cautious eyes, as If I were to jump at them in any minute, like a predator. They won't know how much I suffer with that, how much self-disgust I feel right now.
They won't have a clue, no.
At the Ceremonial Battle I'll wish them luck, I'll wish him luck. But he won't know that I'm craving for him to disappear, to burn until there are no more than ashes left of him. And he won't know how much I want to burn too with him when I think of that.
And then, when its finally over, and he's about to cross to the Afterlife, when they're sharing tears and farewells; they won't know how much ecstasy I'm feeling, and how some kind of relieved cynical pleasure creeps through my brain.
And they won't know how sick I feel, thinking this way.
The helmet is blocking my sight so I remove it when we reach a red traffic light. Now I can see them. There, a few blocks away from us, at our right, a group of foreigners stand in the middle of the street, separate yet united, as if they were waiting for something.
The voices in my head scream and fight, but the roar of the engine numbs them, so I manage to turn right.
"Malik-kun!" Yuugi greets just as the motorbike parks in front of them. His eyes have that special glint that only a kind, pure heart possesses.
His cheerfulness overwhelms me and makes me feel dizzy. But I won't let him know.
The others run towards Rishid and me, exited faces just like their friend's.
I hate it. But they will never know.
The mask has been placed.
The act has begun.
"Yuugi! Everyone! It's so good to see you! We've missed you so much"
FIN