Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh or any of its characters or themes. This is FANfiction.
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Read Between The Lines
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I've known from the start my Darkness loves to lie. I'm not always even sure why. For sport? To hide his real self? It never gets any easier to tell.
Reasons for him to hone his craft in the art of painting with words always seem to differ. From simply informing me of how much milk we have left in the fridge, to where he'd been for the last four days.
Sometimes, I wouldn't ask. I would only stare at the blood on my hands, praying my thoughts aren't true to what had transpired whilst he was in control. But, I never get the chance to ask. He would only hide himself away in his soul room for weeks, not saying a word or simply deflect any of my questions. But not knowing creates visions possibly far darker than my Other could've created himself. Visions of blood, darkness and a hate that blinds the soul to all light.
I found him once sitting alone on the roof in the rain, the warm summer rain that was falling couldn't account for the red tint to his cheeks or the shaking of his shoulders. Then a realisation hit me. I suddenly found it impossible to believe that he could be so cruel as he had said. The words weren't convincing anymore; not when his tears seemed to fall just as quick as the tears of heaven. He only once had mentioned his home and how he misses it, but as quick as his past resurfaced, he buried the thoughts with others of banishing the Pharaoh to the Shadow Realm.
Behind one fraction of truth lays fractals of vague answers and misdirection.
We're standing on the front porch now, the Golden Millenium Eye in my hand as I wait for him to speak. I know what had led to this, I know what had happened for me to stand here now, holding another's Millenium Item. But, I want to hear him say it. I want to hear what he would prefer to tell me. I let him lead me on, simply to see where he decides to take me this time. I'm sure he knows that I know. The Spirit of the Ring seems to know what goes on inside my head before I even do. Or, maybe he doesn't and only wishes that he does.
So, I just listen. I listen to the lies he spins so intricately.
Listening, I hear so much of this particular event, one that's so expertly fabricated, but doesn't exist. The words tumble easily from his mouth, filled with so much emotion and sincerity it feels like the words should be true.
But they're not.
Of course, the key to the perfect lie would be to keep mostly to the truth, only changing a single detail. So, I commit his words to memory. And, with each new canvas he creates, I can pick a single strand of his reality out of the garden of colours his conversations seem to nourish. A single truth, or half-truth that is slowly weaving a tapestry of this broken man that had lived through bloodshed, pain, loneliness and a world of darkness for centuries before we met. But, it's only the tiniest seedling of pure, surrounded by a his landscape of false information.
It's something I appreciate though, that he finds me worthy of the trouble of creating this world of lies for.
It's a dull garden. An orchard of plastic. A mould filled with whatever actions would make the lies seem more real. A beautifully fake world, crafted to suit your every need. Every turn in this world will lead to the destination that only the person who crafted this world desires, the road goes nowhere else. The ride is scenic and twisting, every turn has a new view of a deep canyon of secrets covered with so much deceit it's hard to believe there's an end to it.
But that's alright with me.
I love hearing lies when I know the truth.
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Thanks for reading! Please drop me a review or pm if you liked it! *hugs*