My co-worker is odd.
His name is Yugi Mutou.
I met him on my first day working in Kaiba Corporation. He's a game designer, and I've got to say that his name fits him well.
I had actually seen him around before—I mean, how could I not notice him? He looked a lot like me, and the people I'm with would pointedly stare back and forth whenever he was near—and I knew he recognized me as well because he was sporting that same look he had worn those few times we coincidentally made eye contact: like he saw a ghost.
I wasn't sure if I should feel offended or flattered with his constant staring. Since the half hour that I had entered the room, his gaze had not faltered. The other workers didn't notice while they kept conversing with me, but my attention was constantly drawn to him, and I was consciously fighting not to stare right back. When the person next to me finished speaking, I excused myself, then walked towards him.
When I stopped in front of him, he just stared.
"Hello?"
I waved my hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. He blinked a few times before his eyes refocused on me as if he couldn't believe I was actually there.
"Um... Mutou-san? I'm Atem Millenia. I'll be your co-worker from now on."
His eyes widened a bit after my introduction. Why was he surprised? It couldn't have been because of my appearance, right? After all, I generally looked like an older version of him, and he had seen me before. So it must have been because of my foreign name.
"You are—"
"Yes, I'm Egyptian."
"—real?"
Did I hear that right?
Did he just ask if I was real?
Was he seeing hallucinations before and mistook me for one? Maybe he was one of those creative people who saw things differently. That could explain it. I probably looked like a dead relative or something.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's nice to meet you Millenia-san."
He smiled amiably as he shook my hand. I was mildly impressed by how he quickly changed expressions.
The rest of that day was mundane. Mutou had ceased his staring while the other workers—mostly female—flocked around me. Seemed like learning my name dispelled any interest he had in me. Somehow, that thought irked me.
Once, I had mistaken Mutou as this meek creature.
He always sat quietly in a corner, never spoke unless spoken to, and was always first to apologize. Also, the small stature and the doe eyes made him look younger than his actual age; the dark bags that were inherent in our type of work did nothing to hinder their de-agifyng effect. (I honestly thought he was a genius teenager until another co-worker corrected me. As it turned out he was only a year younger than me.)
From his mannerisms to his appearance, everything just screamed harmless.
But that was just the Yugi Mutou I knew from work.
Outside of work, he was a bit different.
I happened to spot him at the arcade once. And while I was contemplating about how counterproductive it was to spend our money and time off at an arcade when we both work for Kaiba Corp., I noticed that he was surrounded by a group of people as opposed to how he usually shied away from them. For a brief moment, I considered the possibility of him being held captive, but then I heard the cheer in his voice as he spoke to the blond guy next to him.
Not only was he suddenly sociable, he also became this happy-go-lucky child—and I said 'child' because when he smiled he looked even younger, and his default appearance was already set at 'teenager'—bouncing from one game to the next with unbounded energy and thousand watt smile.
Mutou just went from 'meek' to cute.
There isn't much difference, except 'meek' can't get my heart pumping that fast.
When he finally noticed me, his face turned ashen.
One of his friends—the blond guy—turned to me as well.
"Whoa! There are two of ya?!"
At the comment, Mutou snapped out of it. He must have realized that others could see me as well. Hopefully, he would stop mistaking me for an apparition soon.
"Millenia-san, I wasn't expecting to see you here."
"Me neither."
How did I end up in the arcade on my way to the grocery store? Had my poor sense of direction somehow guided me to Mutou? Maybe my feet simply knew where my heart lay? Pfft, as if.
It was probably Mutou's psychic powers.
Because Yugi Mutou was psychic.
Which was further proven during the second week.
Mutou usually stayed late in the office. That day though, he left earlier than me. He just recently finished designing a horror RPG game—and I dearly hoped that there won't be any red-eyed ghost character inspired by me in it—so he earned a good rest.
I lived in a middle class apartment. I had moved there a week before I was hired. It was half an hour away from my workplace, but the major factor why it was chosen had been the cheap rent. It was actually a nice place, the only reason why my rent was cheap was because of the generous landlady: She gave discounts to people she fancied.
How was that relevant?
Well... the apartment complex had three floors, and the 'fancied' tenants were all situated on the second floor; our doors were red and unlabeled—a symbol for pretty and available. There were four rooms in total, but only three were occupied. One of my neighbors, Otogi, was a host, and the other was a mystery I would unwittingly solve that day.
When I turned the knob, I was berating myself for forgetting to lock it. When I came inside, I thought Mutou should have locked his front door.
I knew he was lurking somewhere in the neighborhood, but who would have thought he lived next door?!
Mutou was a deer caught in the headlights, frozen and wide-eyed. He stood there in his hallway, dripping wet and clad in nothing but a white towel that left little to the imagination.
And never had my imagination been so great.
My cheeks turned red while Mutou's blush spread to his neck and below. As I pointlessly tried to unglue my eyes from him, I noticed that we had the same wallpaper from my peripherals. I heard a tiny squeak before the resounding smack when the door connected with my face. I spent the next hour nursing my aching nose.
The next day was awkward.
Thankfully, we didn't meet on my way to work, but any gratitude I felt for that little miracle eradicated when I spotted Mutou waiting by the elevator. Of course, I could have just taken the stairs, but I wasn't keen on climbing my way to floor 48.
As expected, the elevator ride was nothing short of uncomfortable. It was jam-packed, and I found myself squished between Mutou and a female co-worker. I felt Mutou's skin rubbing against my right arm, a jolt of electricity with the contact (the rack shoved against my left seemed irrelevant). My traitorous mind kept flashing back to the night before, messing with my memories, making it more sensual that it actually had been. All the while, the drab elevator music played.
Stuck in a tight place, with the guy in my thoughts standing next to me, I was a moment away before my body would betray me as well.
It dinged when the doors opened, and it was the sound of salvation. I scurried out of there, an inmate on his first taste of freedom. When the claustrophobic prison was out of sight, I let out the air I didn't know I was holding in and blamed the poor ventilation for my red face.
For such an illustrious business, why couldn't Kaiba Corp. afford bigger elevators?
We kept bumping into each other the whole time at work; the universe was conspiring against me—or us? But why should I feel so guilty? It wasn't like I walked in on him deliberately. Besides, we were both guys! Showing skin shouldn't be that embarrassing!
While the guilt was suffocating me, Mutou was acting normal. The only hint of his discomfort was the slight twitch of his left eye when I was within a meter.
I stayed a bit later that night, waiting till it was just Mutou and I left in the room. Then I went up to him and shouted, "Sorry!" with a quick bow before running out of the building.
His eye wasn't twitching the day after; I was forgiven.
Yugi Mutou was a master of masks.
And he had one hell of a poker face.
I really should have known better than to challenge him. His name was enough indication that he was blessed by the gods when it came to games. Hell, that glint in his eyes when I said I'd bet half my month's pay—and he countered that he'd bet two months' worth—should have scared me off. I really should have listened to the female co-workers' warnings.
I lost half a year's worth of pay in a period of three hours.
Damn his deceiving appearance! It was so nonthreatening that it caught me completely off guard; when I lost the first game it didn't register in my mind till I lost two more. And damn my competitive drive for demanding a rematch—twice!
But most of all, damn the male co-workers who coaxed me into challenging Mutou in the first place. Damn them to hell and back!
The room was a cacophony of cheers. The guys shouted boisterously while the ladies consoled the defeated (me). Most of the guys at work blamed me for their inability to get hitched—something about me turning the female workforce into my personal harem—and they sought vengeance. And through Mutou, they exacted revenge.
Don't hate the player, hate the game.
How could I do that when my opponent was 'Game!' I really wanted to pinch those chubby cheeks till they turn red, but I settled for another rematch instead.
"Strip poker, double or nothing!"
When I saw Mutou turn tomato, I felt satisfaction. He shook his head wildly, "No way!" and the ladies' "awww..." of disappointment echoed. The guys unanimously agreed with Mutou's decision, though; they didn't want my inevitable strip tease to ruin their already dismal chance with the opposite sex.
Apparently, no one thought I could win against Mutou. I was tempted to say he cheated, with his psychic powers, but that was just me being a sore loser.
That night, I dreamt I was king of Egypt and my paychecks were my sextuplet daughters. Mutou was the god of mischief personified, a gypsy who stole my princesses in one swoop.
Payday was bittersweet.
I couldn't savor the feel of the thick dough between my fingers when I knew it was going to someone else's pocket. Counting the second door from the left, I stood in front of Mutou's door with a heavy heart to ask if he wanted cash or check. I was about to knock when the door opened, my hand was halfway from knocking Mutou's face instead.
He wasn't expecting my appearance. He had that ashen look again, then he realized it was me.
"Keep the money. I don't really need it," he said as if reading my thoughts like the psychic he was. "Besides, it was just a game."
"But I owe you money."
"Now you owe me a favor."
"Doesn't seem like a fair trade."
"Then, three favors," he said dismissively. Mutou walked away, leaving me standing in his wake. I wondered if his hallucinations were contagious; I swore I saw the metaphorical wings sprouting from his back. People who didn't take your money when given chance were angels.
Two months passed, 'Mutou' became Yugi. I knew more but still so little about him. I was observant, but he was withdrawn. He was only ever bright when he was with his friends, and that spurted my jealousy. Then, I noticed that Yugi also acted differently in my company. But he didn't talk about himself, and, even though I was curious, I wasn't one to prod.
My eyes would trail after him, and my feet soon after. In the office, I stuck to him like a lovesick puppy. We became an unspoken couple in the eyes of our co-workers. The guys supported the relationship, begging me to make it official so they could have the women for themselves. And, oddly, some of the women thought we'd look cute together.
Everyone else could see I was attracted to him, but the thought never crossed Yugi's mind.
"That's to be expected, Atem-kun. Mutou-kun is really dense! I asked him out for coffee once, and he refused."
"Maybe you weren't his type, Mai-san."
"Maybe you aren't his type either," she huffed indignantly. "Well, whatever. Call me if you two don't work out." She slipped a piece of paper between my fingers before walking away.
I saw a flash of violet, and the paper was forgotten in the trash bin.
"Good morning, Yugi!"
The upturn of his lips tugged my heartstrings; he always smiled wider for me.
His voice was dulcet.
The blond fringe that fell between his eyes was cute.
His pale skin begged to be painted on.
His cherubic cheeks were adorable in red.
He had amethyst gems for eyes, a deep blue that fades to aubergine.
But when he smiled, it didn't reach them.
Through my love-infected vision, he had the appearance of a seraph.
But Yugi Mutou was the devil.
And he played me by the hand.
My eyes are drawn to him the second he enters the room. Earlier was the Kaiba Corps.' anniversary celebration (with compulsory attendance), and now we are having an after-party. I'm sure he'd pass if he could, but sadly for him, someone dragged him here before he could protest.
A wine glass is shoved to his face before he could even take a seat. A co-worker challenges him to a drinking game: the only game he's not good at.
He's too nice to say no. He gulps down the wine. Another is handed to him. Two more swigs, then he is hammered.
Yugi Mutou is a lightweight.
And I know that, but I'm not gonna stop him from drinking the fifth glass. I watch as they hand him his sixth, downing my own drink. He's gonna pass out before the eighth, then I'll have to carry him home. It's either that or risk the worry of him tripping on thin air.
For a fleeting moment, I wonder where he hides the key, then try the knob experimentally. The door opens.
Yugi should seriously lock his door.
I remember the last time I went inside his apartment. He was also drunk then. His footsteps swayed, his words slurred, and his sense of self-preservation diminished.
When my eyes strayed for a minute, he got into a brawl with some thugs on the street. I tried to talk some sense into him and got punched for my effort. Yugi exclaimed, "Who punched him!?" turned his attention to the only other male standing, then proceeded to pound the living daylights out of him even though the culprit was Yugi himself. He was small in size, but he sure could pack a punch.
A girl approached us, flustered, saying a 'thank you' before departing. There went the damsel in distress Yugi had unknowingly saved. Yugi was on the ground, the fight had drained him, and he was content to just lie there. I told him to get up but he wouldn't, so I carried him the rest of the way home.
The door was unlocked, and I pondered if Yugi ever locks it. I went straight for the bedroom. Yugi flopped on the bed like a mannequin. I loved the guy, but my back was aching, and my cheek still stung. I pulled the comforters under him, unintentionally stirring him awake.
I saw his violet eyes, and they were a different hue.
"D'ya remember Seto Kaiba? I work for 'm now..."
"Of course. I work for him too." I replied absentmindedly, taking off his shoes.
"He's that guy's son."
There was a venom in his voice that wasn't there before. It intrigued me.
"That guy?"
"Y'know... that guy who killed you."
A sloshed Yugi speaks his secrets.
Tonight, I'll learn the ghost's name.
The apparition Yugi sees every time he looks at me.
The blue has turned black in the dim light, but it still fades to aubergine.
His cheeks are painted red. Intoxicated.
He stares at me intently.
There's something different about his eyes.
He smiles and it reaches them.
"Yami."
He clings to me like I'm his lifeline.
He loves me...
But he won't remember this tomorrow.