warnings: profanity, strange phenomena

3. Your Move

From this time unchained,
We're all looking at a different picture,
Through this new frame of mind
~ "Glory Box," Portishead

Atem awoke to the sensation of the morning light falling across his face. He groaned. Had he really stayed up so late? Yawning, he rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He had the strangest sensation of someone staring at him.

"Harry?" he mumbled, frowning slightly and looking toward the painting. He could have sworn that the pharaoh was observing him with a slightly amused expression, his arms crossed—

Wait. His arms crossed? Atem could have sworn that he had one hand on the railing before.

"Am I going crazy?" he muttered. He got up from the bed and walked slowly toward the painting. It's not as though he's going to move, Atem told himself with some irritation.

That was definitely amusement in Harry's eyes. With difficulty, Atem suppressed a growl. Wait, did that amused sparkle in his eyes just increase? "Damn you, Harry …"

Atem grabbed his cell phone from the bureau and snapped a picture. "Now if you move, I'll know for sure whether it's my imagination or not," he said. After a moment, he added "So there."

He felt incredibly immature, but strangely satisfied, as though he were playing a really stupid game with a brand new friend. "What, am I five?" he muttered.

The phone in his hand vibrated, nearly causing him to drop it, then emitted a jazzy ringtone. "Damn, I really need to change that," he said, and brought the phone to his lips. "Hello?"

It was Anzu. "Hi Atem. Do you have plans for today?"

Atem glanced at the painting and sighed. Not like he could take that guy to the beach. "No, what do you have in mind?"

"Terrific. Let's go to the beach."

"Funny, the beach just crossed my mind for some reason."

"Then that sounds like a plan?"

"I guess so …" He thought a moment about what Jounouchi said last night. "Why don't I call up Jou and Honda and see if they want to come? You think Shizuka might be free?"

"I was … Yeah, that would be great."

"Terrific!" He glanced at the clock. "I'll pick you up at nine, OK?"

Quickly he tapped through to Jounouchi's number and made his first call.

Jounouchi was more than happy to come. "You haven't invited Yugi, have you?" he asked.

"No, it's his turn to cover the store, but why do you ask like that?"

"Well, because you and Anzu … can you say, awkward?"

"Sheesh, Jou, we're not dating! Yugi doesn't seem to have trouble understanding that … although … he hasn't wanted to come along with the group lately …"

"Like I said: awkward."

That conversation gave Atem too much to think about while he was showering. Really, could Anzu have the wrong idea about him? He'd always figured she and Yugi would figure it out and get together sooner or later. But … nothing he could do about those two. Should he come out to Anzu?

Damn it, he really didn't feel like doing that until he had a proper boyfriend. It would be a lot easier to tell everyone if he was, well, happier about all of that.

Yeah, well, it wasn't like he never got offers, but, dammit, he had his standards.

When Atem got out of the shower and was dressing, he glanced at the portrait, which still seemed somehow amused. For some reason, Jounouchi's comments from the night before sprang to his mind. "This isn't a date," he told the image, "it's an outing with my friends."

You made sure of that, didn't you?

"Yes I did. I don't want Anzu to get the wrong idea."

Because it's not as if she doesn't have her hopes up already. I haven't even met her and I already know what she's thinking.

"Not you too!" Atem growled at the painting, frustrated. "Dammit, Harry, now you have me arguing with myself! I should turn you toward the wall."

The amused expression in those piercing blue eyes was infuriating. But I know you're not going to.

"What am I doing even talking to you, anyway?" he muttered. "I am going crazy." Grabbing his swim trunks and beach towel, he stormed out of his room.

The day was perfect for the beach: Sunny and warm with a nice sea breeze. Jounouchi and, surprisingly, Mai were both able to make it, as were Shizuka, Honda, and Bakura. When Honda heard Shizuka was coming, he traded shifts.

Atem waded out of the surf and sat on his beach towel in the shade of Anzu's beach umbrella. Anzu plopped down next to him and gave him a big smile. "Isn't today perfect?" she asked. She opened her lunch basket and handed him a sandwich.

"It is beautiful," he allowed. He gazed out toward the ocean. The only thing that would improve the view—no, he shouldn't think about that. But he couldn't help himself. The man from the painting would look magnificent as part of this view. He could picture him so easily, his dark skin against the white sand. Atem tried to remember the exact shade of the man's eyes. Was it even darker than the blue of the ocean? I think—

"… tonight?"

"Huh?" said Atem ungracefully, breaking out of his reverie. "I'm sorry, Anzu, I was woolgathering."

Anzu looked at him, an odd expression on her face. "You've been distracted all day," she said. "Has something gone wrong at the game shop?"

"No, it's nothing like that. What was it you were saying?"

"Nothing important. I just wanted to know if you'd like to take a walk along the strand this evening and maybe—maybe have dinner at the Star of the Sea?"

"Sure," he said with a smile.

"So if there's nothing wrong, then what's on your mind?"

What could he say? That he needed to find himself a boyfriend and the best he could do is a painting that couldn't even hold up its end of the conversation decently? Pathetic. "Nothing much, I guess it's just spring fever."

Immediately he was sorry he said that. Crap! Why hadn't I thought to bring up KAI? he thought belatedly. That would have been a perfect excuse.

"You know, there are treatments for that," Anzu said flirtatiously, and leaned in close.

Atem suppressed a groan. "I guess so," he said. He glanced over at Jounouchi and Mai reflexively, thinking what a natural couple they were. Why can't I just be like that?

As though Atem had caught his attention, Jounouchi got up and helped Mai to her feet, then they both came over. "Looks like it's time for lunch," Jounouchi said.

"What is it with you?" asked Anzu. "You always seem to just know when food appears. Is it ESP?"

"No," said Mai, "survival of the fittest." She gave him a fond hug. "I can attest that he's very fit."

"Please spare us the details," said Atem.

"So, have you seen Atem's new pitcher yet?" asked Jounouchi.

"Pitcher?" echoed Anzu. "Oh! Picture. You mean the painting he got at Pegasus' shop."

"That's what I said."

"No, I haven't been to Atem's place since he got it. Say, why don't we stop by on the way home?"

"Well, for one thing, I picked you up," Atem pointed out. "How about some other time? I'll be bushed by the time we're coming home."

"I guess, but I'd really like to see what you'd like enough to pay that much for."

"I'll tell you, I don't get it," said Jounouchi. "It's just some dude."

"'Some du—'?"

"Hardly!" Atem broke in. "It's an artist's depiction of a pharaoh."

"I see," said Anzu. "Jou, you know how Atem is about ancient Egypt."

Jounouchi shrugged. "Yeah, but that doesn't explain why he has to put it in his bedroom."

"B-bedroom? Didn't you say you bought it because it would fit that space next to the stairs perfectly?"

Drat that perfect memory! Atem thought. "I did, but I changed my mind," he said in what he hoped was a breezy manner.

"If y'ask me, it's a just little bit creepy," Jounouchi said between bites of a sandwich.

"Aw, c'mon," said Mai, observing Atem's discomfort, "give a guy a break. It can't be that bad."

"You haven't seen how big that paintin' is, and the dude has eyes like a freakin' interrogator. How can you even sleep with that starin' at you all night?"

Interrogator? Jou even knows that word?

Atem couldn't help laughing. "When you put it that way … But honestly, Jou, having it there is actually kind of … comforting."

"That?" Jounouchi shrugged. "Different strokes for different folks, I guess," he said. "I suppose if a burglar stumbled in, it might scare him away. But, honestly, Anzu, y'gotta see it."

"One of these times. Anything that would get Atem to buy a picture, let alone one that expensive, has to be interesting in some way."

"I don't see why you all are so fascinated by my purchasing habits," growled Atem, annoyed. "Can't we just have a nice lunch without dissecting my décor in detail?"

The remainder of the day passed all too quickly. The group happily played some beach volleyball, splashed about in the waves, then capped it off by watching the sun set and going to dinner.

It was late when Atem finally climbed the stairs up to his loft, yawning. He turned on the light and pulled his shirt off, throwing a glance at the painting before heading into the bathroom.

He stopped in mid-stride, turned and stared, slack-jawed, at the painting.

The pharaoh was gazing out toward the right side of the painting, revealing his handsome profile, one hand back on the railing of the balcony.

"Holy fuck," muttered Atem as he rummaged in his pocket for his cell phone, unable to tear his eyes from the sight.

When his hand finally grasped the cell, he pulled it out and wrenched his eyes away. Clicking back through the day's snaps of the beach, he found his snap of the painting. "Ha!" he exclaimed. "See? Your arms … are … crossed …"

Looking up, though, he saw that the pharaoh was back in a position identical to that of the morning, the very same expression of amusement in his eyes—only perhaps more so. "You bastard," Atem commented, but he knew it was his own fault. He should have snapped another photo before looking up the first one.

He could almost hear the man chuckling at him.

"Laugh it up, Harry," he muttered. "Have your fun while it lasts. You know, I could sell you. Or put you in my fireplace."

Like you'd do that.

"I suppose I wouldn't. Who would I talk to?"

Speaking of, where were you? It's Sunday.

"I do have a life you know. I was out with my friends."

Friends? Was it his imagination, or did the image look a little surprised? What do you need me for if you have so many friends that you're out all day?

"I told you. There's things I can't talk with them about."

You're a coward.

"Yeah, I know. I should trust them enough to talk about this, but … it's so personal, and I know that Anzu's going to be, well, disappointed."

She's going to be disappointed eventually anyway.

"I guess I'm hoping she'll get bored with me, or find someone else." Atem stared at the painting for a moment and frowned. "Stop laughing!"

He stomped off into the bathroom and stepped into the shower.

This can't be healthy, he thought. Talking to a painting.

That wasn't the worst thing, though. He was feeling a definite attraction. That was just sad.

I really need to seek help.

The next few days Atem hid his cell phone under his pillow, waiting for an opportunity to catch a change in position that never seemed to manifest. Then he started taking a picture of the painting whenever he entered the room and when he woke up. He supposed that if there was a sort of consciousness in the painting that didn't want to be caught, this was absolutely not the way he was going to catch it, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

One evening, he got home after closing the game shop and after snapping a picture of the painting, found himself staring at it. The man still stood with arms crossed, his face basically impassive, but he felt that there was something somehow different about the expression this evening.

How is it? Atem wondered. How is it that I detect nearly imperceptible changes in your expression? He shook his head. But perhaps they aren't changes at all. Perhaps I'm making all this up in my mind.

He looked at the portrait again, unable to shake the feeling that the expression—yes, it had shaded over from hinting at amusement to some more complex emotion. Atem prided himself on his ability to read expressions and this one was difficult even for him, subtle and hidden as it was. There was some frustration there, he was certain, and a smidgen of anger, but also … yes, he was sure of it, something softer.

Just as Atem thought he was beginning to comprehend what the emotion might be, he heard his doorbell and trotted downstairs feeling distracted.

"It's late, Yugi."

"I want to see your new picture."

"What is it with that? Everyone wants to see it now."

"What can I say, your place is like a museum," Yugi said, smiling. He ran up the steps to the loft and flopped onto Atem's bed. "I'm going to stay overnight. Don't worry about it." He stared at the portrait for a while, then laughed. "I can see why you like this so much," he said.

"Huh?"

Yugi laughed even more at the reaction, then cleared his throat and said, "It's very nice and ties in with your fascination with everything ancient Egyptian. Do you know how accurate the costume is?"

"No idea."

"You should channel your former incarnation and figure it out."

"Very funny. And fashions change, you know."

"Oh, be technical, why don't you? But seriously, Atem, this fellow reminds me of someone, but I can't remember who."

"It's the eyes. They're so human."

"That's not it. It's someone I should recognize."

Before Atem could refute that, the bell rang, and he went down to answer the door.

At least I don't have to listen to Yugi make fun of me for the next couple of minutes.

He glanced through the peephole and almost groaned. Then he opened the door and said, "Hello, Anzu. Don't you think it's a little late to come visiting?"

"Well, I wanted to stop by and see that painting of yours and I knew you wouldn't be back from work until late. So?"

"Well, I guess it's fine. I don't know why everyone's so interested. Yugi's already up there." He leaned on the bannister and called, "Yugi? You decent?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Anzu's coming up."

Atem could almost feel the tension increase and almost laughed as they ascended the stairs. Oh well, this will resolve itself eventually, he thought.

Anzu sat next to Yugi on the bed, which Atem thought was particularly awkward, but her attention was focused on the painting. "It's … big," she said.

"That it is."

"You said you were going to put it in the space next to the stairs?"

"Originally."

"It really fits better there."

"H—It didn't seem to want to go there."

Anzu looked at him curiously, then glanced at the painting. "It didn't?" she murmured. "But, really, why put it up here, anyway?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Yugi, and for a moment, Atem was terrified that Yugi would say, He's gorgeous! But fortunately, he said, "He's a pharaoh. Atem likes to think about that."

"He can't think about that in his living room?" Anzu murmured, looking at the painting.

"You just don't understand," Yugi said. "It's a thing. Atem doesn't keep his favorite books about Egypt in the living room either."

Atem glanced at his bookshelf. Indeed, there were a number of books about ancient civilizations and ancient Egypt in particular, and also a couple of adventure novels and manga series set in ancient Egypt.

"Some people put up posters of rock stars," continued Yugi comfortably, "Atem puts up pictures of pharaohs … although, you really can't have an actual photograph of a pharaoh …"

"I guess …" said Anzu. "I'd sort of expect a poster of Tutankhamun's death mask …"

"Too predictable," said Atem.

The trio went downstairs to drink tea and chat about Atem's interest in ancient Egypt.

The next morning when Atem woke up, he reached beneath his pillow for his cellphone and as his fingers closed around it he heard a soft moan. His eyes flew open, and then, just as suddenly, he relaxed.

For a split second, he imagined that the breathy sound had come from the painting, but then he remembered that Yugi was staying over and turned over. Yes, his diminutive cousin was sharing the bed with him. Yugi let out another sleep-smeared sigh and stretched, opening his large, violet eyes and looking at his cousin.

"Oh, are you already awake?"

"Barely. Good morning."

"Morning."

"Go ahead and take the first shower. I'll boil water for tea."

"Sounds good to me," he said, slipping out of bed and trailing slowly over to the bathroom.

As soon as Atem heard the water, he surreptitiously slid his cell phone out from beneath his pillow, and quickly snapped a picture of the painting before he even looked at it. Then he looked at the picture he'd taken. It was blurry, but … yes … the arm was on the railing. He was almost sure of it. (OK, it was very blurry.)

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pointing at the painting.

The image, its arms crossed again, seemed to say, Make that photo stand up in a court of law.

"What?" Yugi called from the bathroom.

"Nothing! Stubbed my toe!" he called back. Looking back at the painting, he whispered, "I don't care, I know what's going on and you can't convince me otherwise. You're moving! I know you are!" He realized he'd somehow jumped up during all this and was now standing near the bed. He sat down on it now, thinking. "Wait a minute," he whispered.

If I'm not crazy, isn't that even worse than if I am? After all, that meant that the figure in the painting was actually moving. That sort of thing wasn't supposed to be possible in a rational world. It had to be some sort of magic, right?

"Great, Harry, now I'm supposed to convince my friends that you move around? I wonder … should I show these to Yugi?"

Your choice. Personally, I wouldn't recommend it.

"Yeah, good advice. You know, I think I have a better idea." Atem grinned. "I think it's about time I figured out where you came from anyway, don't you?"

I'd do that myself in your place.

"Yeah, it's obvious, isn't it? You wouldn't care to tell me, though, would you?"

I move, I don't talk.

"I guess that would be too easy, wouldn't it?"

I'm a painting, not a recording.

Atem stared at the painting for a moment. He hadn't considered that before. He'd love to hear the voice that would emanate from that personage. He stood still for a moment trying to imagine it.

What?

The image seemed to stare at him expectantly.

"I need to get going, Harry." Atem headed downstairs, muttering, "Moving or not, I'm still carrying on conversations with with a painting of a man who can't talk back! It's pathological!"

Author's notes ...

3/14/2013: Updated to correct spelling of Jounouchi's name—oopsie!

Warning, from now on, updates will slow down, probably to one per week or possibly more depending on how quickly I get the end polished.

Thanks once again to everyone who reviewed! Plume Sombre, AyaSeth, and EvilMidget6, thanks ever so much for taking the time! Thanks also to those who added fav's and follows. :) I'm glad that Atem naming the painting "Harry" got a chuckle or two. Things have been developing slowly so far, but will speed up (but hopefully I won't accelerate too quickly) in the next chapter.

Atem's new pitcher: I realize that the play on words (pitcher/picture) is strictly English, but hey ... (Note: when I originally wrote this, the rather ribald pun that can be read into this did not cross my mind - honest!)

Stop laughing!: My feeling is that Seto would probably not be laughing, but Atem feels like he's being laughed at.

How about a preview of chapter 4?

Atem wanted to turn right around and go home, but … If I turn back now, I'll always wonder if I could have tracked down where that painting came from. Let's face it. I want to know who he is and why that damn thing moves. Is it haunted?

Fuck it.

He forced himself to walk in. I hope I don't have to make a damned appointment, he thought viciously. I'm not sure I can make myself come back.

Revelations ... ! Don't miss it!

(Such profanity! ... And in a preview, yet! Does my mother know I use such language? Thankfully not.)