Crimson Tears
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Yugioh or the fairytale this piece is adapted from
Warning: rated for graphic content
It was terribly cold and nearly dark on the last evening of the old year, and the snow was falling fast. In the cold and the darkness, Seto Kaiba, dressed in nothing but a work shirt that barely reached his thighs, roamed through the garden with bare head and naked feet. What originally instigated this bizarre behaviour he wasn't quite sure of, but one thing he was certain about was that this night would be the last of a nearly gone year - a year which was significantly marked by the presence and absence of a certain someone - someone he was determined to make a part of the past. During the period after said person's 'exit', although suicide was a much more fitting term, the brunette hardly ate, hardly slept, sometimes he wondered if he breathed, and he worked, worked until he fell over and worked some more… to the extent that Mokuba was getting concerned and it would not do, so he had to finally call it a night. Now without a means of distraction, he was left completely alone with his thoughts, and shock horror and a half – emotions, and Kaiba always avoided those as if it were the bubonic plague itself, which kind of half explained why he ended up in this God forsaken place in the first place.
Just one more night, and he would be able to let him go.
Because he was hungry, frozen from the cold, because he was ice itself without Yami's fire and starving for Yami's love. So he lay back down onto the ground, stretched out his arms and made angel wings. It reminded him of Yami, and his death to become a guardian angel – a genuine one this time. For him, this was one death too many and there wasn't a single thing he could do about it, except to sulk, here in the snow. After all, he never was good at dealing with death and loss. Even if he was a genius, he just shoved them down somewhere and pretended that he had moved on. Oh he was a genius alright, a genius who invested himself in a mirage, not that he complained at the time. Anyhow, his present problem was not that. He was cold, freezing to be exact, in all senses of the word. Yes, he tried to fix it with Kaiba style, and no, he did not have a match on him. He did, however, discover a box of razor blades in his shirt pocket and the substitute would have to do. He drew one out from the bundle, stroke it against his forefinger, and scratch… how it sputtered as it burnt! It gave off a warm, bright light like a little candle and he fancied he saw Yami's lips in there. But then the flame went out, Yami's smile vanished, and he had only the remains of the stained razor blade in his hand.
He rubbed another blade, this time against his chest. It burst into a flame, and where its light fell upon the skin it became as transparent as a veil, and he could see into himself. Surprisingly, what he observed was not a heart of stone. No, that wasn't it. He was astounded that he had a heart to start with. But no. This one was made of flesh, and it was beating its life away, bleeding its life away, for no apparent reason at all. He rolled his eyes in ridicule. This was pathetic. He definitely did not agree with what he saw, discarded the blade in his hand and moved his attention to his wrist instead.
He found that the blade slit through his vein easily as it reached the bone and he burned like fire, all thoughts of coldness and hunger forgotten for the moment. So he wasn't the cold-blooded monster he thought he was. He wasn't even freezing anymore, more like burning forever and always in his personal hell every second that he remained alive. The crimson droplets splattered onto the snow, rose higher and higher, till they looked to him like the stars in the sky. Then he saw a star fall, leaving behind it a streak of fire.
Sometimes he felt too much, and sometimes he felt nothing at all.
So the next cutting edge he drove right in between the eyes, and felt blood trickle down his face, enticingly so, saw it glittering prettily all the way. It was then that he caught himself gazing into wine-red eyes. Dumbfounded, he whimpered the name that used to break his heart into so many little pieces, not that he ever admitted to himself of course. It was just that he could not possibly afford to lose again, lose his love to death again, and he would give anything, do everything to hold on to this mirage tonight with every ounce of his sheer will, and love always conquered death anyway. He would not allow Yami to abandon him for death a second time! Yes fuck he loved him, so so so much, and he would scream it for the world to hear, but his pride could not, so he declared his love in the only form he knew, made haste to plunge the remaining bundle of blades into his eyes… crystal sapphire as they were, now a crimson tribute. They burned, and he found himself crying hot, blood-hued tears, although they would never be as gorgeous as Yami's. He sighed at the thought, finally stopped fighting and surrendered as the dam broke. Blue verses red, ice verses fire, Yami's blood red eyes never appeared so large or so beautiful, and all Kaiba could see was red, nothing but magnificent, glorious red… tainting him, drowning him, loving him… and they flew upwards, higher and higher until they reached a place where there was no more cold, no more hunger, no more pain…
Because the white of the snow, black of the night, red of his blood, and his angel's eyes painted the perfect picture of heaven, it painted the perfect picture of home.