A/N: Hey guys. Oh man, I've got all these little ideas for drama going on in my head. I've got to get them out. So here's another chapter!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my plots and OC's.
Chapter 4: Never Mine -- Yami
When we're at home, we don't have to hide. But as we lay together in the guest room of Joey's house, I can feel secrecy enveloping us. No one can know that I am slowly stripping you of your clothing. Or that you are biting my shoulder as I slide in and out of you. Or that to keep quiet I must once again place my mouth over yours. To insure secrecy. To keep the silence. To keep the peace. You come with a gasp and a shudder. I can feel your breath slowing down. I can feel you falling asleep. I can feel your breathing. I can feel the comfort that is your love for me surrounding my heart. But I can feel the cracks that are there. The things we avoid talking about. The people we don't mention. The feelings we ignore. All that. I can feel it.
"What's wrong?" you whisper in my ear. "What are you worried about?"
"Nothing."
"Liar." You smile and push me off of you, facing me. "Tell me," you say, placing your forehead against mine.
"I'm just...worried about what this trip will do." You nod.
"So am I." You bury your head into my neck. "So am I..."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It was never clear to me before why your mother never liked me. But as I sit across from her at Joey's breakfast table, and I feel her probing, angry eyes watching us eat, I realize something: there really isn't a good reason. At least, not one that I know. While she and I avoid eye contact, you make bubbly small talk with her.
"What will you guys do?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe go to the park?"
"Maybe."
"You could get lunch."
"We could." Sighing, you stop talking to her. It was your idea that she and I spend time together. That we get to know one another. You promise me that tomorrow, we're both going to go visit your father. That you're spending time with Tea, Joey, and Tristan today. That I'm going to have to suck it up and be a man. That I can do. Or at least pretend to do.
Your mother and I find ourselves, an hour later, in relatively the same position as before. We're on a park bench, sitting in silence, watching a homeless woman feed pidgeons.
"Strange," you say. "That a woman with no food would spare the little she receives with birds."
"It's called kindness."
"A rarity these days."
"Indeed." Our conversation for the day ends there. We head back to Joey's house and bid our good byes.
"How'd it go?" you ask as you help Hannah prepare dinner.
"Not bad. Not good either. It didn't really....go, actually, anywhere." You shrug. As if you were expecting that. Maybe you were.
"Yugi's ma isn't exactly the most entertaining person," Joey says quietly as he enters the room. He and I have made a small truce. No one talks about Egypt or the photos and we're fine. For now. Hannah, it seems, has made Joey promise to leave me alone. She doesn't want to upset the baby. I want to run like hell back to Egypt.
"They'll patch things up. I'm sure of it." You're confidence is comforting, but it's not enough. I know that you think we'll never be able to do this, but you have hope. You really love her because she's your mother. And you want things to turn out well. But she and I know, and think, otherwise. Even if I wanted to, even if I gave all the time in the world to your mother and to the relationship she and I don't actually have, it would not be enough. Because you and I both know she could never give that much back.
The next day, as you promised, we see your father. I've only met him once and he wasn't sick then. He's thin. God, he's so thin. Thin like death and he looks of it as well. Like any moment he won't be there. I'm beginning to feel like the only things that bring us back here are weddings and death. Perhaps Tristan should get married next. And then your mother could die. Which is an awful thought and I'm glad, for once, we no longer share a mind link. I don't want you to know I hate her that much. But then, of course, we'd be done coming here. No more trips.
"So you're the guy that stole my little Yugi. Well, you're a lucky son of a bitch, I can tell you that much. My kid here's the nicest guy you'll ever meet."
"He really is."
"And he's funny too! Makes me laugh every time."
"Dad."
"What? I can't compliment my son? Oh, Yugi, we didn't spend enough time together. We need to go back. Back and back and back and fix all this, you know?"
"If only," you murmur.
Your father really does like me, strangely enough. You tell him I'm trying to get along with your mother and he nods appreciatively. "I've tried that, too." Then he laughs. It's this loud rumbling sound that fills the room, despite his sickly appearance. You smile. It's a comforting sound, your father's laugh. I can see how it makes you feel. If I were to touch you, I know I could feel the warmth inside you, spreading every which way as you listen to your father's laughter. I look at you and see a tired boy. A boy who wants to crawl into the lap of his father and ask him to make it all better. And I feel bad, right now, that I'm here. I'm here and this is supposed to be your time. Yours and his. His and yours. Not mine.
Never mine.