I wrote all this in one sitting, and since I'm not even suppose to be writing this because I have a deadline on the 20th, please forgive my little mistakes. I didn't have the time to edit (I shouldn't even be writing, but it's just so fun!). And it's little Yugi who is the ghost of Christmas past. If that's not clear enough, let me know. I tried to keep him in character, and also because the ghost of Christmas past is always referred to as a little child.
Let me know what you think!
Chapter 3: Yugi's Christmas Past
His bedroom had turned into some freak surreal dream, with his bed curtains fluttering about on the cool breeze and Yugi before him in a shaft of light, his tiny, bare feet on his windowsill. The white light almost made him forget that it was one in the morning.
Almost.
"Ghost of Christmas Past." he said.
"Yep!" said Yugi.
Seto would have smiled, he would have laughed—this was all really, really funny. Who knew Yugi would be the type of person to pretend to be an angel in his rival's windowsill? But then again, it was one o'clock in the morning, and Kaiba was not the kind of person that got tipsy and giggling after staying up too late.
Instead, he slapped a hand to his face, both to block out the painful white light and to show his utter exasperation.
"Let me guess, and I'm suppose to be Ebeneezer Scrooge."
"No, you're Seto Kaiba. You're exactly who I came for! Now, come on, get up, we don't have much time."
Seto lifted his legs back onto his bed. "Good night, Yugi." He laid down on his side, facing away from the window. "Close the window on your way out."
"Kaiba!"
"And you better be paying for the electricity you must be burning, because if I find out you've plugged your stupid spotlight into my house-"
Yugi interrupted him with a loud noise of annoyance, which was the closest to a manly grunt that the tiny boy would ever get. Sometimes Seto couldn't believe that a seventeen year old kid who looked like he was as old as Mokuba had showed him up and taken his title. But he was never one to judge on appearance. I mean, look at him. He had taken over his step-father's company at thirteen. Plenty had misjudged him—to their regret.
A small hand clamped around Seto's wrist and, with surprising strength, pulled him back over. What shocked Seto more, though, wasn't the fact that Yugi had the audacity and ability to yank him over like that, but that the bright light seemed to follow Yugi and now filled up the canopy of his four poster bed. The light had left the window. If Seto didn't know better, he'd say the light came from Yugi himself.
The smaller boy's large purple eyes were narrowed in determination.
"Kaiba, you're coming with me, whether you want to or not. I will not let you damn your soul just because you don't believe I'm not a hologram."
"Who said I thought you were a hologram?" said Kaiba faintly, before shaking himself and trying to yank his wrist out of Yugi's grip. He couldn't. The kid had a hand of steel. "What the hell, Muto, this isn't Dickens freaking Christmas Carol, this is real life!"
But Yugi had pulled him out of bed. Seto scrambled to get his feet beneath him before his face mashed into the floor. The King of Games had his eyes to the window. Even when he dug his heels into the floor, Seto still found himself yanked and dragged towards the outside.
"You're not going to seriously pull me out the window." he said. "Come on, Muto! Even you aren't that crazy!"
"I've been endowed with the powers of the Ghost of Christmas Past tonight. You're going to have to trust me."
"This isn't a matter of trust, it's of sanity!" The window was coming closer. Yugi had a foot up on the windowsill. "Damn it, let go!"
"Trust me, Kaiba!"
Then Yugi was leaping over the edge, and Seto along with him. Seto would have liked to say that he didn't scream like a girl when his legs were yanked over the sill and he found himself in midair—and he didn't. It was a very dramatic, Hollywood-movie type scream, manly to the core. He kept his eyes wide open, watching the earth, waiting for it to rush up and beat the life out of him.
But it didn't. Instead, it sunk down and down. The icy cool air rushing past him didn't get past his skin, and Yugi's small hand radiated warmth all the way down his arm. He looked back up at his rival, eyes focused to the heaven's, and realized that, yes, the light did radiate from him. Not to mention he hadn't seen any spotlight outside his window.
His mansion shrunk behind him at an alarming rate. When the lights of the city glimmered beneath him on sticks of skyscrapers and lines of streets, he finally trusted himself to speak (and no, he hadn't been about to throw up).
"We're flying."
"Yep." said Yugi, without a hint of sarcasm.
"Muto, we're flying."
"Yeah, I know."
"You're glowing."
"Mmhmm."
"Glowing like a freak of nature firefly, or some mutant radioactive accident."
"Uh," and at last Yugi looked back at him over his shoulder, his white robe billowing about him and brushing against Seto's face and arm. "Are you okay?"
"After the whole sucked into ancient Egypt hallucination we all had together, I'm finding this rather tame."
"Really?"
Seto could feel his stomach churning again. He was going to be in therapy for this for months.
Yugi watched him, blinking. "You don't look okay."
"Just shut up and fly. We're going to visit all the charming Christmas's of the past, aren't we?"
Yugi beamed widely. "Wow, Seto, you really were paying attention!"
"Well, since we're doing our own little Dickens rerun..."
His rival gave a clear, chime like laugh and came to a stop. The light that radiated from around him seemed to grow, if possible, brighter, and Seto put an arm to his face. He wanted to cuss at him, and then cuss at Dickens for not mentioning that the freaking dick of freaking Christmas Past had originally blinded Scrooge.
Then he felt his insides swooping up to his ribcage. His eyes snapped open. They were falling.
Yugi was now below him, hand still tight around his wrists and his glow dimmed in the daylight. Their feet were both aimed for the earth below, which was lit with bright sunlight and frosted with snow. An orange bricked, 70's style building watched with dark windows as they plummeted down.
"Muto!" he shouted.
At the last minute they slowed to a graceful stop. Seto's knees buckled of their own accord when his feet touched the ground. They were bare, and the snow was cold.
Yugi chuckled at his cursing. "I'm sorry. I guess Scrooge had slippers, didn't he?"
And suddenly Seto's grey, flat soled slippers appeared on his feet, warm as though they had been sitting by the fire.
"Uh, thanks."
"No problem. So," Yugi gestured before them with a swish of white sleeve. "This place look familiar?"
"Of course it does," said Seto, "it's the orphanage Mokuba and I lived in before we were adopted."
"Ah, good! I was worried I'd miss, since I've never actually seen this place myself."
Seto wanted to ask about the details to whatever...magic, technology, rules, whatever that Yugi was working by to make all this happen, but a flash of dark distracted him and he looked up to see a tiny, black haired Mokuba pushing through the newly fallen snow, his naked hands tucked deeped into a coat that looked four sizes too big. His grey eyes were alight with wonder, though, and he stepped slowly, so to hear the crunch of the snow beneath his shoe.
Seto felt his breath caught. Yeah. He remembered this day. But he had forgotten how small Mokuba had been. It was hard to remember with the lanky giant he had become before him.
"Mokie!" shouted a high voice from inside the building. A heavy, ugly wooden door was proped open and Seto could just make out a brown head poking through.
"Hey! Here you come!" said Yugi.
And, sure enough, Seto's younger self came trotting out of the building. Even at the young age of eight, Seto had already perfected the icy glare he would use later to freeze all his enemies and annoyances in their place.
"Mokie! You're still sick! Get back inside, right now."
"But, Seto, I wanna build a snowman."
"We can build one when you're better."
"But then the snow will be all dry and crunchy and won't stick."
"Then I'll build you one later, just get back where it's warm."
"I wanna build it!" whined the little Mokuba.
"What's the point to this." asked the older Seto from where he stood with Yugi. Neither of the brothers even glanced in their direction, so he had already assumed they couldn't see him. He had given up trying to explain everything that was happening. It was probably just one of those freaky vivid dreams, and no choice now but to go along with it.
Yugi had a serene smile on his face as he watched the wailing Mokuba being dragged through the snow by Seto. "To remind you of what Christmas use to be for you."
Seto snorted. "Oh, please, it's a holiday and always was. A day in December set aside by Germanic pagans and then adopted by the Christians as the day of Christ's birth. It's all just some strategy of conquering the masses of a country with a varying culture."
Yugi was giving him a strange look. Seto glared at him in return. Their staring contest worked for a total of thirty seconds until Yugi realized they had lost track of the not-yet-Kaiba brothers and went to grab Seto's wrist again. Seto pulled it out of his reach. Oddly super strong he may have become, but the guy was still a shrimp.
"I'll follow, just go."
Together they walked up the poorly cleared sidewalk to the front door and walked in. Yugi looked around in confusion until Seto rolled his eyes and led him up the stairs to the boy's dorm. They passed a large living room full of loud, chattering children on their way.
"Christmas is not just a holiday," said Yugi. "It is a time set aside by mankind to remember what it means to be human, and more so. It's when we remember how to love, give charity to others, and reevaluate what's really important in our lives, such as family and friends. The spirit of Christmas is what draws us to remembrance, and its something that, if we strive to keep with us year round, will give us a truly happy, fulfilling life."
"Are you done yet?" Seto had stopped at a closed door. He could hear his younger self and his brother inside, and it was probably the strangest thing that had ever happen to him since he'd met his idiosyncratic rival.
Yugi gave him another one of his frowns-more-like-pouts. "Didn't Gozaburo show you where you're headed for? This is your last chance to change or you're going to end up like him."
"Oh, please, spare me. If I recall Dickens correctly, Ebeneezer Scrooge was an old man that was going to die soon. I'm twenty-six. I'm sure I'll have plenty of time and this is far from my last chance—as though it was ever needed."
"None of us know when we will die, Kaiba. I thought you'd know that by now."
Yugi sounded so unnaturally grim that Seto found himself starring, but Yugi had already snatched up his wrist again and dragged them through—THROUGH—the heavy oak door.
He wasn't even going to start on that one.
The boy's dorm was just as he remembered. It was a too small room filled with too many bunkbeds and colored in various ugly shades of orange and green. In the bed at the end, tucked into the corner, came the sounds of Mokuba's sniffles and Seto's quiet instructions to blow into the tissue. Of his own accord, Seto walked down the familiar scrubbed wooden floor, wondering if the bunkbeds had always been so small.
"But—but Mom and Dad, they always—sniff—they always built a snowman with us on Christmas morning."
"Our parents are dead, Mokie." said Seto flatly. To Mokuba's credit, he didn't even flinch.
"I know. I just..."
Mokuba didn't finish his sentence. But he didn't have to. Both the younger Seto and the invisible older Seto understood. Doing the traditions made it easier to forget that you didn't have a family. Once you had one, and only in those moments were they enough.
But the unnatural flush was still there on Mokuba's cheeks, and the younger Seto scrambled for the glass of water on the bedside table when his brother started coughing, deep and wetly.
Seto handed him the glass and Mokuba drank greedily.
"I know this Christmas has been...different. I," the younger Seto bowed his head, averting his eyes. "Look, I miss them too. But you can't go out in the cold making your fever worse just because of that. You still have me, after all. And what if the snow made you sicker? What if you left me here? Do you really want to leave me alone like that?"
Mokuba's watery eyes widened. His fingers tightened around the empty glass. "Oh, Seto, I didn't mean—no! I'll never leave you alone." Suddenly he burst back into tears. "I'm sorry, Seto! I'm sorry! I just wanted to build a snowman! I just wanted—I just wanted-"
"Shh, calm down, you're acting like a girl, Mokie. There's not reason to feel bad, I was just worried about you."
"I'm sorreeeeee!"
The older Seto watching the seen 'hmphed.' "I forgot how much of a crybaby Mokuba use to be."
"That was sweet of you to take care of him like that, though."
Seto flinched. He had almost forgotten that Yugi was there, watching the whole thing. He felt his neck get hot.
"Do you mind, Muto? These are my memories."
"Oh, don't worry about it. As part of the contract I'll be forgetting about all of these once we're through here."
Seto frowned. "What-"
But Mokuba's slightly croaky voice broke him off. "Oh! I got you a Christmas present. I was going to wait until you woke up to give it to you."
"I've been awake since six this morning."
"Well I didn't know that! I thought you had fallen asleep on the couch to catch Santa-" Mokuba broke off into coughs. His older brother took up the glass and moved to go fill it back up, but Mokuba stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. So his brother waited until the coughing fit was over and Mokuba had scooted up to reach his pillow.
"I hope you like it." He pulled out a small package wrapped clumsily by newspaper that had been slathered in Elmer's glue and what might have been red and green glitter. "Merry Christmas!"
Seto felt a little jump in his stomach and smiled involuntarily. Oh yeah. This Christmas. He couldn't remember the last time he had even thought about it, but how could he have ever forgotten it? He didn't need Yugi to remind him.
And yet, the warmth reached all the way down to his toes, just like it had then, as he watched his younger self carefully taking apart the newspaper wrapping, as though it were valuable, to reveal the Ziploc bag of fifty or so Duel Monsters cards in various states of wear.
His younger self gaped, started to smile in wonder, then thought better of it and stared at his brother in horror.
"How did you get these? We don't get an allowance."
"I traded for them." said his younger brother simply.
"With who? And what? We don't have anything."
"Kids from school."
Seto didn't miss how his brother didn't bother to answer his second question.
"Mokie," he said lowly, "what did you trade for these cards?"
His brother frowned and glared. "Nothing bad! I just agreed to do chores or errands for them. Most of the time it was just delivering letters or helping them get the answers on their homework. I never realized how stupid people are."
"They didn't make you do anything bad, did they?" Seto could already see his younger self's fists knot up so tight, he could see each knuckle and tending straining against his pale skin.
"Don't you like them?" said Mokuba, borderline desperate.
"Well, yes, of course, but I don't want them if it means you did something awful to get them."
But Mokuba had already relaxed on 'of course' and had melted back onto his pillow, coughing lightly and eyes drooping.
"Mokuba-"
"Can't you trust me?" said Mokuba. "Will you teach me how to play later today?"
His younger self hesitated, though he seemed to notice how tired his little brother looked, so he backed off of the bed, unzipping the Ziploc bag and taking out the cards. None of the cards were much good. They were common cards, usually the kind people threw away, but they were his, and Seto would make the best and more of them.
They were the start, after all. The start of his legacy.
The small Seto looked on his brother with bright eyes as he fell into a feverish sleep. The cards were held carefully in his hands, as though they were the most valuable cards in the world.
"Do you remember what you did next?" asked Yugi.
"Yeah," said Seto, "I went outside and made a snowman for my brother. Then, when he woke up, I wrapped him up in a blanket and carried him on my back so he could put the carrot and hat on. He wanted to be the one who put the hat on in case it brought the snowman alive, like in Frosty the Snowman."
Then he realized who he was talking to and tried to smother the embarrassment before it could show. Reminding himself that Yugi wouldn't remember any of this, and if there was one thing he knew about his rival it was his unwavering honesty, Seto cleared his throat and turned.
"Anything else you got for me or can I go to bed? I have important work to do in the morning."
If Yugi was annoyed with this, he didn't show it, which was so like him, Seto thought. Rather, he pivoted on the spot and made his way back to the door. It didn't take long, even for Yugi's short legs, and when the white robed duelist threw open the door rather than walk through it, Seto found himself staring into a room he remembered far too well and instinctively moved to coil back. Yugi didn't notice, however, and stepped in.
"Come on, Kaiba."
And then Seto found himself in his old study, the door to the orphanage vanishing behind him. His hands started sweating, and he silently berated himself for the clenching in his stomach. Gozaburo was dead. This was but a memory.
The room was refined, that much could be said. The walls were painted a pleasing forest green, and the floor to ceiling bookshelves were made of dark mahogany. A fire burned in the fireplace, and at first glance one would think this place comfortable.
But the moment he spotted himself, now at ten, head hung down onto on open book, a leather collar locked around his neck and chained to one of the legs of his desk, any warmth the place could hold shattered. Even Yugi stopped with an intake of breath.
"What the—wait a minute." he frowned, looking about him, as though unsure of himself. "No, this is the right day, but why would he have told me to take you here..."
"Who told you?" asked Seto, thinking he might tear off said whoever's face for making him come back here.
"Is that a chain around your neck?" Yugi's face was not something Seto wanted to see, especially towards himself. "Did your father-"
"Step father." Seto snapped.
"Did he do this?"
"He did it hundreds of time, now stop gawking and get to the point of this memory so we can leave."
Yugi bit his lip and nodded before turning back to the seen. As though pushing play, a door to the side of them opened and a maid came in with a book in her hand. She set it on the desk softly, but it was enough to make the boy snap up with a start. His blue eyes were bloodshot, shadowed, and there was a sickly sort of boniness to his face.
"You forgot this." she said.
"Thanks." the younger Seto muttered.
Without another word the maid turned and stepped back out, shutting the door tight behind her. Seto heard the snap of the lock reengaging before turning back eagerly, a memory returning to him. Wait, this couldn't be that time would it? He hadn't even realized it had been Christmas.
Sure enough, though, when his ten-year-old self dropped the book in a frustrated, dismayed, and exhausted fury, a piece of paper floated out. The young Seto picked it up. Yugi and his reluctant companion went behind him to see what he was looking at.
A card stock rectangle, roughly the shape of a card, had been illustrated with a sloppy, but distinctive blue lined, white dragon with blue dots for eyes. On the top, just like a normal Duel Monster's card, was the monster's level, name, and below the picture, a description.
The boy picked the book up, straining against the collar at his throat to reach it, and searched through the pages again where he found a note written in his younger brother's careful, but clumsy scrawl.
I know you've always wanted a Blue-Eyes White Dragon, so I made you one, and I know, one day, you'll have a real one. And then we can both jump on it's back and fly far away from here. Keep strong, Seto, you're still the best big brother anyone could ask for. I love you.
Merry Christmas.
Yugi had the decency this time to turn away when his younger self started to shamelessly bawl. Seto, however, stood there, watching the big fat tears roll down his other's self. Through all of Gozaburo's torture, the grueling studies, the whip, none of it had made him cry. He had refused to buckle or to show the weakness the man constantly accused him of. But Mokuba's gift...it had given him the strength he had needed, and realizing his own exhaustion and despair then in the face of the warmth had made him fall.
But it had given him resolve. That day, he decided, that he would make Mokuba's words come true. He would become powerful enough to own a Blue-Eyes one day. He would free them from this hell and become someone that no one, not even Gozaburo, would dare to mess with.
"Your little brother really loves you."
"Yes." said Seto.
"And you love him too. You would have done anything for him, then and when we were younger." Yugi glanced at him over his shoulder. "Do you still."
Seto scoffed and avoided Yugi's gaze. "He's a man now. He hasn't needed his older brother in years."
"You know that's not true. If it was, why would he keep coming to your office to make sure you came home? Why do you think he keeps going through girlfriends?"
"Because he's a softie and can't see a gold digger when she's right in front of him." Seto hesitated. "Wait, how do you know all that?"
"It's because he is seeking your approval. He knows he's a softie, and so he's depending on you to help him find someone worth his trust. He's still depending on you." He caught a flash of Yugi's cheek balling up into a smile before he turned back around. "And I am Mokuba's friend, still. We talk."
This time the room blurred around them. The last thing Seto saw was his past self, clinging to the homemade dragon card, before a much different scene materialized around him. He recognized the conference room on the top floor of Kaiba Corps's Headquarters instantly. Large ceiling to floor windows lined two walls, displaying the spread of Domino city like a glittering map of circuitry and computer hardware. The nearby skyscrapers seemed to serve as a silver and yellow framing to the city view. Buffet tables lined one wall, filled with all manner of exotic treats, and gorgeous eight foot tall trees stood in every corner, their decorations glittering like jewels and the dresses of old queens.
In the middle of the room, inter spaced with small tables, were finely dressed people, most with glasses of champagne and their eyes glinting in the light of the small, but fine chandelier just above their heads. Dozens of conversations created a soft murmur over the crowd.
"Wow, are all your get togethers this fancy?" asked Yugi.
But Seto ignored him. Instead his eyes had zoomed in on one person in particular. He remembered her, alright, and he instantly knew what was in store for him in this memory. However, he kept it at the back of his mind, just as he always had, refusing to acknowledge it.
The woman in question stood against one of the windows, looking out at the city with, what he knew to be, sparkling sky blue eyes framed by thick lashes. Her silver hair reached her down to her knees, but for tonight she had twisted it all up into a messy pile on top of her hair that dripped soft curls across her bare, snow-like shoulders. The blue dress she wore only served to accent the curves that asked to be held, to be grabbed onto, even in his dreams he had to be on guard not to do just that.
"She's gorgeous."
Seto looked to the side to see that Yugi had followed his gaze and also saw the slender woman on her own next to the window.
"Do you know her name?" he asked.
"Kisara."
Though, just as he said it, his own voice echoed it back to him, and he watched as himself, only a year younger, approached the beautiful girl. She turned around, and for the first time Seto noticed how her face softened to a warm expression, as though she could embrace him with the look in her eyes and the curve of her smile.
He drew back. He didn't want to watch him. It took Yugi a minute or so to realize Seto wasn't with him anymore. The conversation just a bit a ways had caught him up, and when he finally looked back to see Seto against the far wall and out of earshot, his face had colored. He trotted up to him, white robe flouncing along with him.
"Oh my gosh, Kaiba."
"Shut up."
"You had a girl! That girl really loves you! I'm so impressed!"
"I said shut up."
"And even while—oh my gosh, I didn't know you could even say things like that, if I could say things like that I would've gotten a girl by now easy!"
"Yugi Muto, if you don't shut up this instant I will find you when all this is over and tear out that stupid hair do of yours."
Yugi's eyes got big, even bigger than they usually were. He looked positively chibi. He didn't look scared, though, rather he looked surprised or concerned, but pressed his lips shut and turned around. After a few minutes, the other Seto and Kisara wandered out of the conference room, close enough to brush hands once in a while, but otherwise keeping their distance. Seto watched himself, never realizing how obvious he had looked, nor how the people behind him watched him, whispering to himself. It made his shame grow.
And how could he have missed that stupid look on his face?
Yugi moved to follow them, looking back at Seto specifically.
"I don't want to go."
"This is the last one. You just need to see this and we'll be done."
"I don't need to."
"Apparently, you do." Yugi frowned. "It's okay, Seto. Nothing's going to happen to you. All of this has already happened. You can't do anything."
Then Seto found himself unwillingly moving one foot in front of the other, slipping through the door, down the hall and turning to an empty storage room for chairs and tables where he knew he would be. His mind must have been disconnected from his body, because even when Yugi peered around the ajar door and jumped back, face red as a beet, he found he didn't care and kept moving to plant his feet inside the doorway.
His past self had Kisara wrapped in his arms and melded against his body in that most natural way that only a man and a woman can achieve. She had her arms wrapped about his neck, pale hands buried into his hair, and was kissing him for all she was worth. Even as his other self proceeded to ran his hands down her back and hold her all the more tighter, he felt numb. He could even spy Yugi watching from behind him and couldn't care.
Kisara pulled back from him, breathless. He noticed smears of lipstick on his other self's mouth and a bright eyed, hungry look to his face he didn't like.
"I love you," she breathed. "God, Seto, I love you so much."
He heard himself catch his breath.
"Please, stay with me. I'll do whatever you ask, just stay with me."
"You don't have to say that." he said.
Her eyes fluttered closed as he leaned down to kiss her once more.
And then suddenly Seto could remember, just as clearly as if he were in his other self's place right then. He remembered how it felt to have another human being against him, not just a woman, for the first time in over a decade. The warmth had been bliss, her smell had overwhelmed him. He had worked with her for months now, knew her loyalty, knew her fire, knew the way she pulled up her leg on the nearest chair or desk leg whenever she was getting irritated, or the way she loaded her coffee up with so much cream it almost stopped being a beverage and became more like sugary milk.
Yugi was waiting for him out in the hall, face still red.
"You loved her." he said quietly, as though worried about scaring the taller man away.
"Yes." said Seto dully.
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know."
"Did something happen?"
"No." said Seto, closing his eyes tight. "That's exactly why."
Yugi didn't ask, and even if he had, Seto wouldn't have heard him. He tried to focus on the dark of his eyelids rather than the memories, but they rushed through without a care for his efforts to ignore them. He had promised to meet her the next morning for coffee. She had kissed him until he started to remember that he had guests to attend to and lipstick to clean off his face and neck.
Then, he had gone home, fell asleep, and chosen to forget all about her when he woke up. He didn't meet her for coffee. He transferred her to a different department, one that was far away from him so their paths would never cross, and she never tried to get a hold of him again. In fact, a month later, he was handed a report with a letter of her resignation.
It had been conscious decision, and an unconscious one at the same time. He had simply come to his senses and realized it would never work between him and her, if not because of himself, then because of his enemies. Loving others only served as a weakness to be used against you. Having a little brother had been almost more than he could handle, and his brother coming of age had finally been the stress relief he had been longing for. He had even justified pushing Mokuba out of his mind by stating that he had used enough of his time and energy keeping him alive that he deserved just a bit of a break to focus purely on his work.
Kisara would have been too much. She would have been his undoing.
But he had promised.
And now, watching from a distance and revisiting the look on her eyes, the feel of her kisses, her plea for him to stay with her, something awful was unleashed inside him. He almost couldn't believe that this was just emotional pain, for it felt as though his organs were intent on peeling apart from each other and tearing themselves to pieces. How could this be clinically possible?
When he opened his eyes he was back in his room, staring at the moonlight through his open window and hugging his chest as though afraid it would burst.
