Summary: "You don't even know who he is."

After two weeks of stalling and excuses, Mokuba finally worked up the courage to go see his brother. In true Kaiba fashion, they went out to dinner.

He assumed that Yami would be one on a long list of things that Seto was going to give him personal commentary on. In all honesty, Mokuba had done his best to avoid this: sending forms through interns, not answering his office phone and forcing messages delivery through secretaries - whatever it took. Having someone disparage his character and point out his cowardice was not something he was looking forward to. Even though this had been his idea.

They didn't speak to each other while they considered and ordered. Really, Seto didn't acknowledge him at all. For all that Mokuba could tell, his brother was dining alone after a long day at work. Even after their food arrived the silence continued. It persisted for nearly an hour, which would've been fine if he didn't know Seto well enough; the man was waiting for a vulnerable opening. Mokuba knew he wasn't hard to read, so it was probably clear that he was on edge. But that wasn't enough to rush the conversation. Seto only spoke when he was ready. No conversation with Seto ever happened where he wasn't in control.

Mokuba had anticipated this conversation the entire week, however; being nervous didn't mean he was without a plan.

The appropriate time, apparently, was after Mokuba had received his dish and the two of them had tasted a few bites.

"You don't even know who he is." Seto's icy tone was more than enough to make Mokuba stop what he was doing and paying attention; that was habit.

Seto chewed for a moment and swallowed before speaking again. "Is he the reason why you've been avoiding coming to the mansion?"

He only took four seconds to swallow that. Did he even chew that properly? He's going to choke himself. And the conversation was already headed south.

Since his return, Mokuba found himself hardly able able to do things alone. Seto kept track of him constantly, through messages and calls or in person when possible. Being seen as 'just as kid' after having gone to school overseas was insulting. And more importantly, it was stifling. Getting by the last several years without his brother made Mokuba feel like he was being forced into a cage.

"Mokuba, are you listening?"

Maybe he wasn't an equal, but Mokuba knew, without doubt, that he was certainly more than the boy he'd been when he left. There were parts of New York that were big and scary, and parts of growing up that were scarier; but as the years went by Seto neatly avoided discussing those things. The truth of it was, there were certain things they couldn't really talk about. And anything even remotely close to what was happening with Yami was on that list.

For Seto to try to police the way that Mokuba lived his life, at this point? He couldn't allow that.

"...so you're just going to stare at me and ignore what I'm saying?"

"You're going about this the wrong way," Mokuba pointed out. He stopped hair behind his ears.

His brother looked indignant. "Oh? Really?"

"Yes. I've been gone for a long time, Seto. I'm just going to be frank—I don't think you know me anymore. And I don't like the distance any more than you do, but this is frustrating as hell. I think that instead of lecturing me on all the things that have changed about me, and how you don't like them, maybe you should just ask me if there's anything important about me you should know."

It seemed like the only thing Seto was interested in was governing his behavior, not actually being useful or even protective. There had been no questions about his experiences overseas; no sign, really, that Seto was even aware that he'd been gone in the first place. He was just being punished, constantly. Who he slept with or spent time with was his own business, and there was a whole life that Mokuba had in another country! For some reason the gravity of that meant nothing to his brother. Even Yuugi, who knew very little about where he'd been and what he'd been doing, asked more questions than Seto.

Mokuba was fit to bursting with stories and experiences. Friends that came and went, opportunities for first times both indulged and declined, professors hated and loved, terrible and wonderful classes and groups and people and connections. There were just so many things. It was disheartening to not be able to talk to family about it. Seto was the only family he had, and he was still trying to ingratiate himself with Yuugi and the rest before he started boasting about how good a time he had.

The only person he was speaking to regularly was Yami so far. And somehow, he didn't think that having a sit down to gush about his college life would be welcome. Easy sex was the name of that game, and Mokuba didn't think anything good would come of breaking the rules.

"Like the cursing?" Seto leered at him, judgment already saturating his gaze.

"What?"

"The swearing, Mokuba." Seto took a moment to sit up straight and make sure that their eyes were meeting.

"That happened a long time ago. It's habit now." Considering how long Seto had waited to confront him about it Mokuba felt like being petty. "It's not like I would do it in a meeting or anything. Seto you swear when you're really frustrated."

"In private. And rarely."

Mokuba rolled his eyes, and kept his voice low. "You know damned well I'm capable of being professional. And already hired at our company anyway. When have you ever heard me talk like that in the building? This—this is personal time." It wasn't his only habit. Seto trained him well on how to speak to people: the strongest words to choose to get his point across, the right words that invoked feelings of credibility and trust in the person that he was talking to; he knew very well how to manipulate, and he had a well versed vocabulary both in Japanese and English. Mokuba wouldn't have even been allowed out of the country without knowing all of these things.

Maybe Seto thought that he'd forgotten.

"And the smoking?"

That wasn't really something he could excuse, really. It was just a bad coping mechanism, and he could admit that. "It's just something that I do sometimes?"

This part of the conversation felt a little more normal, at least. Seto wasn't the only one that had issue with it. Sometimes it felt like he drew stares from everyone in Domino (besides Yami, of course), especially during the day. He didn't smoke often, really. A pack could last him nearly a month, sometimes. It was just the ritual that he liked: it gave him an excuse for a breather in stressful situations, gave him something else to focus on. Yami, on the other hand, definitely lied about how often he smoked. When Mokuba had too many in one day, he could feel the habit creeping up on him, urging him to do it more often. He didn't want to, though. he took breaks instead.

When he was in the 'States, things were a little easier to manage. There were ...other stress relievers besides smoking that were a little harder to come by in Japan, and he wasn't known well enough to be caught indulging in them. Mokuba didn't want to get KaibaCorp caught up in anything resembling a scandal. He was already flirting that line with Yami and he preferred to keep his stunts to one manageable mess at a time.

"You're going to kill yourself." None of that intent made it across to Seto. "How often do you smoke?"

"Only sometimes."

Without missing a beat, Seto asked again, "How often do you smoke?"

Mokuba didn't hesitate. He couldn't afford to be seen as a weak child just because he was different. If they were going to make this a lightning round, all he could say was bring it. "A couple a week. Sometimes not even that. Like I said—"

"Packs?"

"No. I said a couple and that's what I meant." When another question didn't immediately follow, Mokuba took the chance to delay another question by cleaning a few bites off of his plate.

At this point, Mokuba just wanted to get to the crux of the matter. Discussing all these lead ups didn't change the main topic. He didn't want to let his brother leave him raw and exposed and hurting at the end of this conversation.

"...where did the motorcycle come from?"

It finally clicked for him.

Mokuba was pretty sure that this resembled some sort of parenting commercial that he had seen overseas. They were sitting at a table, looking awkward and uncomfortable because they weren't enjoying each other's company. Seto was the concerned Dad making sure that the wrong influences hadn't gotten his brother in their clutches. Is that what this is?

He guessed he did fit the stereotype, right? Smoking, sex, a general disregard for how his family pictured him. His typical leather jacket and motorcycle completed the ensemble. Perfect.

Ugh.

"A friend in Syracuse. I spent a couple weeks with his family in the summer, and I learned how to ride his bike. Then I decided to get the license for it. I like bikes and I didn't know what I was missing until I rode one. I bought LaShonda after and I've been in love with her ever since."

"A friend."

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Yes."

"Sleep with him?" Blunt, as usual, and straight to the point.

Talking to his brother was never quite just talking; it was a battle. Seto poked and prodded but never delved in except to agitate weakness. It was disappointing to see that of all of the things that had changed over the years in Domino, he was not one of them.

But they made it here, at least. Mokuba crossed his arms at the table, not caring about how rude it looked. "I don't sleep with every guy I see, Seto. It's kind of rude as fuck to assume that." He felt like he had the right to say that. Seto was out of line.

And he seemed to know it, too. Seto moved on without much fuss. "La... Sho-n-da?" He was even having trouble pronouncing the word.

Mokuba sighed. The novelty hadn't been there to begin with, and after nearly an hour of cold silence this was a pretty shitty finale. "It's the bike's name."

"Why?"

"I bought it used; I didn't name her. I felt like it made sense to keep her old one."

He didn't understand why Seto was approaching him like this. It wasn't as though his motives were concealed. Pressing about all these small details wouldn't reveal anything meaningful, and he thought it was pretty obvious that the real point of this conversation was to ask about Yami. Instead of being straightforward about it, Seto was moving along his typical path: be a dick and put the pressure on anyone involved—eventually they would get nervous enough to explain themselves.

It'd probably work if he were anyone else.

There were things he wanted to talk about: Why couldn't he be asked about the woman who'd taken his virginity, or the first time he'd been so drunk he'd puked on himself - or when he'd shared his first kiss with a man and decided it wasn't so bad? What about the fake confidence it took for him to navigate in a foreign country where he knew practically no one for the first year or so? The two of them were separated for more than six years.

Seto hadn't even asked about his grades or how graduation went. Did he even know what Mokuba had gotten his degrees in?

He glanced at his watch and stood silently. Calm down. Mokuba could admit he was wrong. He'd hoped a friendly atmosphere would help with feeling less pressured, and instead it compounded everything. Mokuba Kaiba couldn't outburst in public; that would be inappropriate.

Blue eyes followed as he moved away from the table. "Leaving?" There were lights dancing in his eyes, adding onto the question. Seto was expecting him to do the work to interpret things, after all. "You were the one who suggested this, Mokuba. Tired of the questions? " Silently was the only way that Seto ever spoke, and Mokuba didn't have the patience he'd counted on being able to summon.

He thought he was ready for this, to stake his claim as an individual.

"I need a smoke," he said.

Seto was smart enough to read between the lines; he hunted weakness for a living. "There is no smoking in the building, you know."

Some of the other patrons were watching from their tables. They were too well known, he reminded himself, for him to make this conversation too personal. He would have to endure it at least until he made it home. There were no cameras there, no one left to recognize his face (or his brother's), and he could just be himself. In his bed he could be just as disappointed and angry as he wanted.

"That's why I'm leaving."

"Mokuba." Though Seto hadn't said much, he recognized it as a statement. "Leave or sit," those blue eyes told him.

But that warning was just enough to claw under his skin and pinch something delicate. For a split second, he lost control. "What?" he snapped.

A nearby waiter turned and made eye contact, wanting to know if he was needed. Mokuba shook his head and grabbed at his jacket, searching the pockets. He didn't carry any on him most of the time, but he was sure there was a strays or two somewhere.

In all honesty he had never wanted a cigarette so badly in his life, both to upset Seto and to calm his nerves.

Apparently he was moving too slowly. Seto also stood, tutting before he made for the nearest exit. Mokuba was meant to follow, and for the sake of appearances he did so without another word. Jacket in hand, they stalked their way to the front entrance. Several pairs of eyes followed them out. At the door, they were stopped by the maître'd, asking question. Seto said a few words and that was that.

They didn't simply hang about at the door. Seto hung a left and continued down the street a ways, until they passed a few other groups of people crossing at an intersection. The babble would conceal the rest of their discussion. The sun was low, too, so there wouldn't be too long a time for anyone to recognize their faces, either.

"...when did you start sleeping with people?"

A long, audible sigh filled the air between them. It was a start, but the taste of the conversation was still bitter. "Why does that matter?"

"It doesn't. But I'm curious."

"Really now? That's interesting." Finally, buried deep in a side pocket, Mokuba managed to find a cigarette. It was slightly bent, but so long as it held that shape it'd be good enough. "About what, exactly?"

"Don't light that. I'm standing right here."

He could feel the heat of anger on his skin, now. Suppressed but still there, just underneath his guise of nonchalance. If his brother was going to be that much of a dick, then, Fuck it. "I know. Is that what you really want to know? Or do you want to ask about Yami?"

"Either," Seto conceded. Mokuba opened his mouth to answer, but his brother cut him off again. "—or both."

He wondered what would happen if he answered honestly. What would his brother's reaction be? "Three years ago." Mokuba lit his cigarette quickly, a distraction.

"I told you not to light that."

"I know. But my patience is shot. I'm out of here." There was no point in lingering, really. "Charge me for the bill tomorrow." They were already at the corner; his bike was nearby.

All it took was a swift turn and he'd be nearly on his way. He needed some time alone. At least at home, he wouldn't have to keep watching his brother be disappointed in him. About smoking or anything else.

"—Mokuba."

He didn't turn, but he did lean back. A rather short woman passed in front of him, and he didn't want to run into her. "What?"

"If your boyfriend ever speaks to me like that again, I'm pressing charges. And that goes for you too. I don't want to know about your business."

He was speechless, to say the least. That was probably the only thing Seto had come to say, bullshit aside—and that hurt a little more than everything else.

It was never about you, of course. Mokuba reminded himself.

But he would hold his ground here. Anyone calling more than three times for a non-emergency was ridiculous. His brother doing it was just creepy and rude. "Don't call me unnecessarily after work hours."

"I need to know where you are."

You don't need to know jack shit, was what he wanted to say. "First of all, you don't. Secondly, if it's that important Seto, just text me okay?"

When he started off this time, he didn't stop. Giving his brother a chance to respond would just make things worse.

{FIN}

Edited: 12/11/18 - my goodness this needed a lot of cleaning up. It was just super rough around the edges, even with the last changes I made. It's still relatively the same as the 1/14 edit, but hopefully things are much more clear. I have to say that I'm not looking forward to getting through some of the other longer chapters again. Sheesh.

1/28/14 - normally I don't edit chapters out of order like this, but I really needed to make some heavy changes to this chapter. It's definitely not the same was before. The pacing has improved and some of the settings have been written to be a little more consistent.

FYI: This is prompt #58.