Title: A Ghost's Touch

Author: Stairway

Summary: A certain red eyed invisible spirit finds entertainment as he wanders around the Kaiba Mansion, frightening and confusing our favorite CEO…

Notes: My apologies for the shortness of the chapter. Next one will make up for it. This is told from a third-person Seto's point of view, if that makes any sense. I guess it does (or will) once you read it :) Again, reviews are appreciated. And thank you to those who have :) Enjoy!

START OF CHAPTER TWO


He slept, or so he tried to. Desperately tried to, he had never longed for sleep as he had now. Yet life was a bad waitress; never giving him what he wanted. Blue eyes opened and closed, opened and closed. Why had he even bothered?

Oh yes.

It was that thing. His mind. His eyes.

He was truly going insane.

Sitting up on the large bed, Seto let out a breath of air as he mingled his fingers in his hair. He clearly recalled what had happened that day. And what had happened just moments before he forced himself to lie down.

There was no way—noway what he was seeing is real. Objects suddenly dropping, noises as if someone was walking behind him, whispering, shifting, laughing…

Yet as soon as he turns around, all is silent again.

Like he said, no way.

Yet he had the hardest time convincing one little fragment of his mind. Seto Kaiba could not go insane; Seto Kaiba would not go insane. Nor would he let this ghost inter—

Wait. Ghost? Where had that assumption come from? It probably was just his imagination wired off of caffeine, hyper charged by the countless nights of no sleep and blinding lights of machinery. Yes. That was it—probably it.

Damn that little fragment.

Removing the blue covers from his body, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and slipped into some classic gray sandals. Not slippers. Seto Kaiba did not wear slippers. They were sandals. Normal, comfortable, classic-looking sandals.

Padding to the other side of the room, Kaiba flicked a light switch on that illuminated a small lamp in the corner of the room, resting on a desk. Kaiba walked over to the desk and took a seat in the chair provided for him. He flipped open his laptop, and positioned his hands over the keyboard.

Then he stopped.

He heard it again. Just as he had many times before.

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

Like two small feet—similar to Mokuba's—trotting across the rug. Only, Mokuba was safely tucked into bed. Right? Seto froze, eyes lowering to the floor. His gaze settled on the texture of the rug, each individual roll of fabric bending over as if a weight was pressed against it...

Moving…

The shape of two feet…imprints…m-moving! And toward him!

Seto bolted out of his chair, knocking it backward to the floor. He shut his eyes, bringing his hands to his head and digging his palms into his sockets as an attempt to drain the last bits of sleep out.

"B-Brother?" The sound of a child's voice brought Seto back around. He opened his now watered eyes and tried to focus on the figure of Mokuba, standing in disheveled pajamas at the doorway. "I heard something fall…" Mokuba said, eyes trailing over to the tipped chair.

"It's nothing, Mokuba. You can head back now." Seto said, regaining his composure. He sighed, and bent down to pick the chair back up.

"Is everything alright, Seto? You've been acting strangely ever since we came home…" Mokuba persisted, worry lacing his voice.

"It's fine." Seto responding. Quick, yes. Short, yes. But Mokuba knew the difference between 'it's fine' and 'I'm fine'.

Of course, Seto would never admit he himself was "fine." Nor would he admit he was "not fine." It was always fine. Whatever "it" was.

Feeling the need not to go further, Mokuba accepted Seto's reply with a small nod before walking back to his room.

Secretly, Seto took note of the "pit pat" his brother's footsteps made across the rug.

They were different.

Seto shook his head of his thoughts once again and plopped down onto the bed, hands folding neatly in his lap. Since when had he taken up lying to his own brother? Oh, right. Since he felt the need to protect him. When? Since they were children. Why? He was a brother, and that's what brothers do. From what…?

Seto's lips twitched downwardly, recalling the hallucinations.

From himself.

"I don't want to scare you, Blue."

The seven words echoed in his head, repeated on his lips as he softly spoke out loud to the world. Who had said them? It didn't matter to him. Why? That mattered even less. He just longed—no—needed to hear it again…feel it again…

He lifted his hand to cover his shoulder, the one he had felt the sudden warmth as if someone had touched him…soothed him. No one soothed Seto Kaiba. It was impossible, unthinkable.

Yet the touch was so…warm…

"I don't want to scare you, Blue."

The voice was so…alluring…

Seto wanted to slap himself. He was infatuated with his imagination.

He was infatuated with this ghost.

His ghost.

There goes that little fragment again.


END OF CHAPTER