Author's Rant: To answer one of my Anon. Reviewer's question: Sadly no, I can't incorporate Castleshipping or Revertshipping into this story since the pairings are already established.
Even Grounds
Overtime, certain portions of Downtown Domino have evolved into makeshift hangouts for the young folks to go afterhours. Several spots in particular were among the most frequented areas, along the Medium border. Three fast food restaurant parking lots, Taco Bell, Burger King and Popeye's, braced the meat of the activities, with Taco Bell being the most populated.
The "Boom" was a place to mingle and a fake kind of expo for those wanting to flaunt their souped up cars or expensive outfits. Everybody knew somebody, who knew somebody who was trying to be somebody they knew. Cars from old school to updated coupes were on display in the lot; 1997 Caprices on twenty eight inch rims to 2013 corvettes with all the extra features, like neon lights and extra pipes to give that extra purr. Most partiers didn't arrive until midnight and by then the music would be pulsating through the asphalt. The windows of the food chains trembled like stuck harp stings and the spread of marijuana, booze and chatter spread across the Boom.
The upper atmosphere was condensed with the mist of Purp, Kush, Afghani and Ice. Cars poured through Taco Bell one way entrance, parking one by one in the horizontal parking spaces. A custom painted burgundy 2012 Avalanche on black spider rims came roaring with. Lil Wayne and 2 Chains, Rich as Fuck drilling the speakers, though only tidbits of the lyrics could be identified over the stereo's boom, ba, ba booms.
Beneath were neon lime, cerulean and purple lights interchanging in patterns of spades and RES, trailing the ground like a rainbow as it roamed through the crowd, gathering eyes and overwhelming the surrounding competition. The windows were tinted as dark as the road pavement but everyone knew who was inside. They arrived at the Boom the same time, every time on Saturdays.
The car dove into a saved space near a short black iron fence, next to a familiar 2012 dark purple Suburban LTZ with twenty four inch lavender and chrome rims, jet black tinted windows and instead of mercury headlights, illuminated a rich magenta. Lil Wayne's music clashed like a torpedo against the Suburban's rivaling stereo, playing Nicki Minaj's and French Montana's, Freaks.
The windows on the passenger and driver's sides simultaneously rolled down, engulfing the Boom with only two songs instead of the many others around. The ground didn't stand a chance. Nicki and Lil Wayne went back and forth like an argument between married couples.
Valon and Akefia smirked from inside his Suburban and Joey and Seto's mouths cracked grins from within his Avalanche before the drivers nodded and clicked on Shake It by Busta Rhymes feat. Trey and Future. The music shook the core of the earth like the devil was beating the ground with a broomstick. The two cars devoured the competition alive and nearly all the crowd gravitated to the Red Eye vehicles.
Joey looked out the window at the envious expressions coming from the other car owners. This was one of Seto's many revolutionized vehicles, courtesy of being the CEO of Duel Monsters; Kaiba Corporation. No one would've ever taken the rich playboy as a gang member, but he didn't disguise his loyalty to the family. He wore his colors like a Confederate Flag and if asked, would gladly present the RES and Spade tattoos on his right arm. Despite relations to the Red Eyes, it did nothing to dampen his business. The stock buyers and Board of Directors could give three damns what he did with his personal life, so long as he kept the green rolling in. He had lawyers and any means of coverage to hide his tracks in the few cases things escalated out of control.
And Moneybags always kept the best saved for the family. Whatever was his was theirs. Just another prideful perk Joey relished in when hanging around his partner.
Their relationship was one even the O.G. couldn't understand
Seto "Slim" and Joey "J.R." personalities were on the direct ends of the spectrum. They were like oil and water, hot and cold, sour and sweet. They'd joined the gang life around the same time, Joey being recruited first and Seto coming in a year later. RES had been the grounded family the young men hadn't had when growing up. Seto was in an orphanage raising a young brother on his own. As for Joey, well, that abusive father of his wouldn't be bothering him or his baby sister ever again. Yami made sure the two were well taken care of and raised with all the knowhow of the streets and gave them the protection to do whatever they pleased.
However it wasn't always cookies and cream.
Seto and Joey argued and fought like hellions, sometimes to the point of breaking bones and leaving bruises the size of baseballs, but it never went beyond. They got on each other's nerves like you wouldn't believe, but the level of respect between them was uncanny. That was just how they unleashed their emotions and when it was over, they'd shake hands and move on. They gave each other nicknames, no one else could call the other except themselves, and when push came to shove, they always had each other's back.
"What are you staring at?" Seto's raspy tone chided.
Joey whirled around, grinning from ear to ear, "I'm scopin' out the place."
"What for? You do this every time we come out here."
"'Cause I like to see 'em squirm. Just look at their faces."
Seto snorted, "Whatever, just don't drool on my windows." The brunet leaned over to pop open his glove compartment to retrieve a zip lock of handmade brown and white cigarillo wraps and a small sized ceramic rice bowl covered in aluminum foil. Joey's nose twitched. He knew that addictive smell anywhere and spun around to see Seto setting up the fix.
"Is that the Ice?"
"Yep."
"Hell yeah, gimme, gimme," Joey automatically held his hand out and Seto placed a neatly rolled blunt, full of the street's newest marijuana brand, Ice. The potency was to die for. The smell and taste could remedy stress with the first drag and the quality rivaledAfghani. Joey's been a fan since he saw Akefia tweak it with some runners a couple of weeks ago. Thief ended up so high he dropped off the city harbor butt naked and started singing I Get High before he hit the water.
Joey pulled out a red lighter and lit up, immediately filling the truck with the sour flavors of. . . of. . .—Joey's eyes widened and stared at the poison between his fingers before a nasty cough came thundering through his lips. His lungs were on fire. The aftertaste of what he thought was Ice started sucking the oxygen right out of his chest. Joey hacked and coughed and choked out the window, inhaling the slightly polluted air. This shit was horrid. There's no way this was Ice. It was too strong.
"Mother—fuck, what the hell," Joey exhaled dramatically, beating his chest. By the time he finished he glared at the wrapped up venom, then cast a glare strong enough to kill a pound of puppies, at his partner. "You," he let loose another series of short coughs because talking seemed to flag his lung for more coughs. "F-fuck you!" He shouted out the window when Akefia and Valon howled in laughter about a foot away. Joey flung the lit blunt in the car next to him and ignored Akefia's shout when he got burned.
Seto reclined in his chair; eyes sleepily hooded and exhaled the haze through the window. When he looked around at his passenger, he couldn't resist the guilty smirk, "Problem?"
"What the flippin' hell?!" Joey retorted angrily. "What is that?"
"Red Dawn," Seto casually answered. He licked his lips, and took another pull before gazing coolly at the blonde's red face. "What? We needed a guinea pig."
Joey gawked, "And you couldn't use the fuckin' Wombat—I said shut the hell up!" He growled at the occupants still laughing in the other car. "That shit nearly took me out. Fuck, my head. I think I saw Jesus." Joey groaned and sunk low in his seat.
Seto chuckled, "Pussy." He pulled a deep drag and withdrew it to blow out a thick stream of smoke. "Quit being a baby. You barely took a hit," He flicked some ash from his blunt and held it between his fingers, smoke floating from its end. "Man up."
"Fuck you, Moneybags. I like breathing, thank you," Joey huffed. The blond wasn't a rookie in smoking, but he'd be damned if started floating in space. Some of the merchandise these days could take out a pack of pit bulls. "You're a dick, ya know that?" Joey gripped, pissed and irritated at Seto's twisted cackling.
"Poor baby," Seto held out his for Joey to sample. This time when Joey inhaled it was correct dosage. Oh baby, he was in heaven. The instantaneous effects oozed through his veins like hot oil. Joey dusted some ashes out the window and passed the blunt back Seto's turn.
Con los terroristas
Ey Shake
Ey Shake
Ey, Ey, Ey, Ey
Shake, Ta. Ta
And do the Harlem Shake
Ey Shake, Ey
"Oh hell yeah! Slim, turn that shit up!" Akefia called, squeezing through his window. He ran to the front of his Suburban, bunched his shoulders and started doing his own version of the Harlem Shake and a sudden attempt at the Bernie. Seto flipped his radio knob, pushing most of the bass lyrics through his speakers. Valon whooped, scrambled on top of the car and waved his arms in the air before back flipping off the hood to join some of the ladies grinding on Akefia.
Joey bobbed his head, pumping his arm out the window, dangling the last remnants of his smoke on his lip. He took it out long enough to sing along, "And do the Harlem Shake! Ey Shake, Ey!" His honey brown eyes were gleaming like a child's first Christmas as the melody grew louder and picked up a swarm of dancers from everywhere. Seto lazily nodded his head to the lyrics, shoulders doing an occasional bump to the beat.
"Yo, ya brought the drinks?" Joey said over the music, mouth dry from the diesel. He didn't get a reply and turned around, scowl in place, to find his partner leering across the lot at the neighboring Burger King.
'Oh, so that's what's got him distracted,' Joey mentally mused. "Looking to play tonight, Moneybags?"
"You have no idea, Mutt," Seto's blue eyes were practically glowing with lust. Joey knew the target as soon as he spotted the white haired high school student. Ryou King, Akefia King's younger brother and Seto's boyfriend of two years. His eyes almost resembled navy gemstones as they traveled over the slender figure dressed in stone wash jeans, a blue V-neck tee and black gloves.
Joey would've left his friend to ogle his fun time and got the drinks himself but his hazel eyes made crossed paths with a black, platinum and sky blue pin striped Suzuki GSZR Motorcycle. Silver custom designed exhaust pipes lined the rear tire in a three pair set. A crash bar accented the sides and up in the front was a tinted windshield. Damn, that son of bitch was a beaut.
Joey had never been a sucker for motorcycles—cars were more his forte—but hanging around Valon gave him a keen eye for quality motorcycles. He didn't have to wonder who the owner was for long. The blonde's brown eyes narrowed thin and concentrated on the person coming out the Burger King and took his place on the side of the bike.
Joey's grin could terrify a demon, 'Now that's what I'm talkin' about.'
A perverse hum left Joey's throat just as the music quieted, tearing Seto's gaze from eye-molesting his boyfriend. The brunet almost thought his companion was eyeballing his boyfriend, but knew better. Joey wasn't the type, which meant, someone else had caught the blonde's attention.
There was a tall brunet with a gelled up hair style like the ball point of a pen, leaning against the front of a motorcycle. Seto chuckled under his breath. It'd been a long time since Joey had this kind of reaction to anyone.
The kid was fine, sporting an orange and grey block striped Hurley V-neck, custom fit to mold on his finely sculpted chest muscles. Joey eyes was ripping his clothes off, bit by bit to reveal a trim waist, strapping toned legs for days and bulky arms crossed over his chest.
He couldn't be what, seventeen or eighteen at the most? Barely legal to Joey's twenty years but Joey could look though right? Hell yeah he would, because the kid shouldn't wear jeans that highlighted his crotch and a shirt that put that delicious body on display.
Joey wanted him. He wanted him bad. From the dark blue jeans, down to his grey matching Nike Air Max shoes, Joey wanted every inch of him. A minute into debating his come-ons, Joey's lips peeled over his teeth in a rich smile when he'd heard the young man's masculine laugh. What a sound. It sent electric wires tingling up Joey's spine.
Deep, smooth and rich like chocolate syrup.
Mmm, mmm, mm. Damn he was fine. Had Joey's leg twitching like a dog.
"On the hunt, Pup?" Seto gibed lightly, cutting through Joey's thoughts.
Joey's schooled features couldn't fool Seto's inquisitive gaze, "About to be." He grasped the door handle and hopped out. He took another pull of his and Seto's shared smoke and handed it back inside.
Seto chuckled, leaning back in his seat, "Send Ryou over here when you get there."
"Will do."
"Play nice, Pup."
"Don't I always?" Joey said through the window. Straightening out his black and crimson checkered polo and black cargo shorts, Joey dug in his pocket for a stick of double mint gum and popped a strip in his mouth.
Joey presented his best smile as he hopped the black fence and strolled over.
The more centralized the local property was into Medium Territory, the more protected it was. There was little concern about gunfire or drive-byes. It was too laid back and the kind of people here didn't care much for being known.
Consider it a suburban version of the Taco Bell next door. No one tried to exhibit how much they could spend on cars, jewelry, clothes and etc. It was all about having fun. Here, the teenagers and young adults simply came to talk or loiter outside the Burger King joint, sitting on the side of the building, sitting in circles around a parking space or sat in their cars, waiting for the cashier to bring their meals. This particular restaurant decided to evolve its services similar to Sonic by having the associates bring the meals outside to customers, but this pleasure was only reserved for Saturdays after seven. The manager was cool like that.
Tristan demanded Yugi cash in one of his rain checks for coming to hang out with him, Ryou, and Duke at the infamous midnight madness; a time when the manager cut the prices so low, they might as well be given to poverty. Yugi had gone inside with Duke to order the goods, while Tristan and Ryou talked by his bike.
And don't get him started on this baby. Tristan had been saving for years to purchase this bad boy and the payments were little to nothing. The fixings and extra accessories came from knowing friends in special places, and getting the hook up from people he knew uptown. He'd recently added the Thrasher Black Rims to his tires that cost about as much as a house note, but again, thanks to his connections, he got them for a quarter of that.
"Where the hell are they with our food?" Tristan growled, checking his watch. "It doesn't take that long to pay five bucks." It'd been about twenty minutes since Yugi and Duke went inside. Tristan almost assumed they were purposely taking their time until Duke came through the glass door with his arm full of extra-large drinks and Yugi not far behind with four brown paper bags.
"About time ya came out. Did you get lost between here and the register?"
Duke instantly became offensive, "Hey, if you're gonna complain, next time get your own crap. I don't have to take this abuse!"
"The ice machine was busted, Tristan," Yugi explained, annoyed. "Mr. Tenchi took forever trying to fix the damn thing. You'd know that if you'd paid for your own food."
"So, you didn't get my smoothie?" Tristan dolefully concluded.
Yugi rolled his eyes playfully, "You think we'd stand there all this time and not get our stuff?"
Duke did the honors of holding up the large white cup, overrun with the slushed strawberry banana mix. "We got 'cha right here, bud."
"And my milkshake?" Ryou asked.
Duke held up the chocolate and vanilla mixed combo milkshake, "Here ya go." He grabbed his own Mango Smoothie and large sprite and sat on the edge of the sidewalk.
Yugi crouched down next to him and looked through the four bags, inventorying each order aloud. "Kay, Tristan had two Triple Whoopers with extra cheese, no pickles and two large fries," Yugi passed that bag to its owner. "Duke had three Quad Stackers, with extra ketchup, a large fry and a ten piece." He handed that to Duke's grabbling fingers. "Ryou, you ordered the twenty piece Chicken Nuggets with BBQ sauce, a Whooper Jr. with extra tomato, no onions and a large fry." Yugi's eyebrow rose as he peeked inside the bag. "And a Turkey Burger with Onion Rings?"
Tristan paused where he had about ten fries posed to enter his mouth, "The hell?"
"Geez man, you goin' to the electric chair?" Duke exclaimed.
Ryou shrugged, relieving Yugi of his order and propped himself next to Tristan, "What can I say? A bloke's gotta eat."
"Keep it up and coach is gonna have you running laps for years," Tristan commented before shoving the fries in his mouth and taking a mammoth sized bite out of his whooper.
The last bag in Yugi's hand was his own order of a Triple Stacker with pickles and ketchup, a Double Whooper with extra onions and pickles, two large fries and his large strawberry Fanta. The gang talked and chatted a while, most of the discussion revolving around the finals coming up in a couple of months. Yugi sucked up most of his strawberry soda and stood up replenish it. "Anybody else need a refill?"
Duke held up his sprite. Tristan shook it off. Ryou, however, took the longest to answer. The turkey burger was forgotten, growing cold because Ryou's chocolate brown eyes were fastened across the way in the Boom area. Yugi frowned and glanced over as well. A monstrously fancy Avalanche was parked at an angle and the occupant within, was casting a cobalt stare smoldering in lust. That was Seto Kaiba. Yugi knew of him well enough and how much Ryou cared for the cold man like no other person did.
Another figure moved into Yugi's peripheral but he didn't think to check it out until the presence became overwhelming and had this sense of a looming force. Yugi jumped out of his skin when a large hand clapped his shoulder followed by an accented voice, "Well, if it ain't my favorite trouble maka'."
Yugi looked over his shoulder and up into J.R.'s toothy grin, "J.R., hey," He answered uneasily, neither sure if this was a casual meeting nor if he should be on guard. "What's up?"
"Not a lotta, just wanted to come over and chat with 'cha."
That, Yugi highly doubted, "Well there isn't much going on here. I'm just hanging out with friends."
"So am I," J.R. hooked his arm around Yugi's neck and tugged him into an awkward headlock/hug. "While I'm here, why don't ya introduce me ta' yer friends."
Yugi artlessly tried to loosen the gangster's grip, "Sure." His eyes glanced over to see how he'd go about getting his friends to notice, but Tristan's face was scrunched in a deep scowl. That was never, ever a good sign. Tristan always hit first, punched again and asked questions later when it concerned Yugi. The young baseball player shimmied himself loose and escorted J.R. over "Uh, everybody this is J.R. J.R. this is Duke, Ryou, and Tristan."
Duke narrowed his green eyes suspiciously, "We're already acquainted," he grunted before taking a large bite out of his burger. "Joey."
"Duke," Joey greeted with less warmth. "Heh, anyways," he dismissed Duke's entire company to speak to Ryou. "Yer man's waitin', Marshmallow."
"I know," Ryou softly said, eyes still trained a few yards away. He let off a small sigh and looked apologetically to his friends. "Guys, I'll catch a ride with Seto. I'll see you later."
The group stared after Ryou to make sure he made it safely to the massive vehicle. He stood at the driver's side, knocked on the window and waited. The tinted window slid down to reveal Seto Kaiba's handsome angular face. They said a few words back and forth that must've been amusing because Seto's lips pulled up in a wicked smile worthy of a great white. Ryou's face flushed when the driver's side door opened and Seto's lanky arm darted out and yanked him in.
Tristan flinched back when a low gruff voice suddenly spoke near his ear, "So yer name's Tristan eh?" He looked around and saw that blond guy who'd had himself over Yugi, looking at him like a dog does a steak.
Tristan looked this guy up and down like he'd lost his mind, "Yeah, what of it?" He roughly inquired.
J.R. blinked, than collected himself. This one had a smart mouth. He liked that, "Nothin'. Just makin' conversation." Joey positioned himself on the seat of Tristan's bike, relaxing his arm on the cushion so that his nose could brush the side of Tristan's arm, "Mmm, ya smell nice."
Yugi was perplexed for all of three seconds watching the sudden switch in J.R.'s demeanor until it came crashing down. He smiled and shook his head. So that's it huh? He's interested in Tristan. He'd have better lucky teaching a ferret the National Anthem. But it'd be fun to watch. Yugi made himself scarce and eased inside the Burger King to watch from the window.
Tristan's lips pursed tight as disgust boiled over his skin in herds of goosebumps, "Sorry buddy," he wedged himself away from the blonde's encircled arm and dusted his sleeve, "I don't swing that way."
J.R. didn't look the least bit deterred, "That's what they all say in the beginnin', but maybe I can change ya mind." His honey hazel eyes swept over the brunet's lips, wanting to test the texture with his tongue. "How's 'bout it kid. You and me, tonight, at my place."
"You got wax caked in your ears?" Tristan bellowed, irritated. "I'm not interested. Go stalk somebody on Rainbow Street."
J.R. eyed the teen's face, feasting on his anger and the way his muscles bunched in his neck. Was his neck as sensitive or tender to the touch? Mm, the possibilities were endless. "Don't be that way, sweetheart. I'm a nice guy. And I don't roll down Rainbow Street. Nothin' there but soft candy. I prefer my lovers strong, tall and sexy." J.R. slithered up close, the breeze of his breath fanning Tristan's earlobe. "If I wanted a woman, I'd go fuck one. But I'd rather get a piece of this," Bold and shameless, J.R.'s hand slid over the cushion, reached around Tristan's waist, and raised his hand to cup the teen's firm, thick ass.
J.R.'s first warning should've been when the brunet stiffened in his grasp, but it wasn't until a few groping seconds, a sharp punch struck his jaw. The blond landed on his ass, momentarily dazed, and half his face going numb. Joey was stunned as the tips of his fingers grazed over the curve of his jawbone, feeling a swell begin to rise.
Son of a bitch.
J.R. leapt to his feet and charged forward. It all happened too fast. J.R. was upon Tristan, slamming him like a quarter back, collapsing them both to the ground. J.R. had the barrel of his pistol nudged beneath Tristan's chin and his other hand full of the teen's brown hair, "You crazy ass bitch. You actually hit me," he said, voice as hollow as a phantom. His deathly grip clicked the safety off, as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and snarled. "Ya know who the fuck I am, kid? I'll splatta' yer shit all over this parkin' lot!"
"I don't give a fuck who you are!" Tristan pressed his hair against the vise grip to slack the pain, eyes watering from the shoved barrel imprinting his Adam's apple. "If you shoot, ya better kill me asshole, 'cause I swear on my life, I'll return the favor!"
"Trust, ya pointy haired fuck, I don't plan on missin'," Joey's body shuddered. He was straddled over the tall brunet's body, his thighs clamped like iron chains around his arms. Nobody disrespected J.R. No fucking body and this brat had the nerve, the fucking gall to punch him and think he'd live? Hell no.
J.R.'S index curbed the trigger piece and tugged.
The icy weight of round steel flattened against his temple, "Back up, Joey," Duke darkly warned, thumbing the safety off his silver Sig. Pro automatic.
Joey didn't flinch, "That supposed ta' scare me, Duke?"
"I don't give a damn if you piss your pants, but you better put your gun away. Otherwise we're gonna have two blood stains on the ground instead of one."
"Then we're just gonna be a couple of laid out fucks, aren't we?" Joey said, simply.
"I'm warnin' you—"
"Fuck you!"
"Get off him!"
Joey visibly jolted when he heard that terrified shriek. His ears listened in on Yugi bolting out of the restaurant, tennis shoes beating the pavement. He didn't get far, though. The shuffle and sudden slam of cloth to asphalt said so. Duke snagged the back of his shirt and slammed the teen to the ground, knee pressed to his chest, "Stay back, Yugi!"
"Let go, Duke! He's gonna shot him! Why aren't you doing something? Get off me— J.R. I swear to God, you hurt him, I'll fucking kill you, you hear—Move Duke, I can take him!"
Joey's heart stammered over a beat before going into double-time. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to control his bodily instinct to just start shooting. Too much was going on at once. The area was steadily drawing a crowd and constricting the air around him. Joey slowed his breathing and tried to gather his wits. He glared at Tristan's face like some kind of contagious illness. Getting some ass wasn't worth all of this.
Maybe it was the brave, stupid fear in Yugi's eyes that made J.R.'s gun slack or the obviously fake courage in his victim's eyes that made him switch the gun's safety back on.
Or he was probably just getting soft.
J.R. chuckle was airless as he roughly shoved Tristan's head to side and stood, stuffing his gun in the waistband of his trousers. Duke retracted his weapon and did the same, eyes thin as a blade. He didn't know what to make of this. J.R. never stopped an assault like that. If he didn't shoot, he'd definitely beat the hell out of whoever pissed him off. Duke swung his gaze around to survey the gleam of metal aimed from various directions across the way.
J.R. signaled with several finger signs and all the hidden guns vanished, a few reflecting off the shine of the street lights. He had to signal twice to have Seto pull his Double Barrel Pistol back in the car. The brunet's window rolled halfway up, but he kept his sharp eyes focused on Joey.
The blond signed and his brown gaze connected with Tristan's a second before looking over at Yugi's bewildered expression.
J.R. sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets and trekked off toward the other side.
He hadn't seen eyes look that frightened since his baby sister left.
Duke let Yugi off the ground with a harsh warning of not going after J.R. Yugi didn't spare the man a thought. His only focus was getting to his best friend's side. Yugi's hands danced all over Tristan's face, chest and neck worriedly.
"Did you see his face?" Tristan murmured, weary eyes following the deflated slump of the blonde's shoulders.
"No," Yugi answered. He fingered under Tristan's chin and felt the pistol's bumpy indention. The skin there had marginally changed a dull red, but otherwise there was no harm. "God Tristan," Yugi whispered, relieved. "I thought he was gonna kill you."
Tristan looked until the blond disappeared inside the Avalanche before whispering, "I didn't think so."
It was hot. Even with the ceiling fan and box fans turned to max, Yugi couldn't cure his restlessness.
He'd done away with his t-shirt and laid there, lounging in his plaid black and grey pajama pants, thinking. Yugi couldn't sleep since he arrived home at two. The drama kept replaying like a bad western show. It was just so, so mind boggling. He tossed and turned, failing to find that one spot that'd lure him to sleep. His pillow was punched to a flat lump and all the coolness in his sheets evaporated from the humidity.
The air conditioning was probably on the fritz again.
Yugi glanced at the digital clock reading the blushing 5:39. He wasn't going to get much sleep, he knew. He never could with a full mind and a heavy heart.
It was too stuffy in here. He needed to get out. Yugi swung his legs around and got up to search around his drawers for something to wear. He pulled out a thin orange hoodie out of the dresser, bringing it to his nose and catching the scent of pumpkin spice. He'd stolen this particular item from Heba's closet a few days after his funeral. Yugi washed it a handful of times, but never for long, scared he may forever dissolve his brother's scent. The odor was faint as a whisper. Yugi pulled it on and slipped on a pair of white Nike Air Forces.
He crept through the game house, peeked in on his grandfather and waited for his snore before leaving the store. Yugi locked up and checked the windows before making his way down the empty pathway and through the gang infested buildings.
The air was stale and humid and smelt of rain. Yugi didn't have a specific direction in mind. He let his feet act on their own, taking time down the trash slick sidewalk, through the graffiti painted buildings and through the mobs of Red Eye Spade members lingering in the alleyways.
Yugi stopped at the entrance leading to this portion of town when he heard a rumble in the sky.
He looked up.
The shrouded gray darkness obscured every shred of the early morning sky, heavy clouds haunting the horizon and enveloping the urban terrain in peaceful silence. The normal sounds of the nighttime were minimized, Yugi noticed. Almost as if he was the only living soul out here. A chilly breeze rustled the pebbles and blew his bedridden hair over his scalp without making a sound. Yugi ran his fingers through the matted hair, trying to add some shape to it and gave up. It was a tangled wreck. Yugi's hair-spikes fell in a heap of red, black and blond around his shoulders, heavy as a draped flag.
Onward he walked until it was guaranteed the rain would fall. By then, Yugi was gazing at the Domino City Garden Park, entranced by the empty landscape. Had he really walked that far from home, Yugi pondered, looking at the stone box collections of flowers. They seemed to reflect his mood: mellow, solemn and restless from the way they swayed and stilled against the storm's winds.
Yugi went for the playground and sat in one of the swing seats. The rain came at last, fanning the vacant playground and showered. The rain blurred his vision, until the world swam in an endless sheet of white. It took less than five minutes before the heavy rain soaked through Yugi's hoodie, plastering the wooly fabric to his chest. He uselessly pulled his hood down to keep the rain from his eyes. A lot of good it did. Dribbles of the wetness dangled off his banes and rolled on his nose.
His eyes worked through the wavering rain, focusing on the objects as if the answers to his troubles were buried somewhere in the mists.
There were none, only a vast plain of darkened shadows. Yugi didn't know what to make of things anymore. It was just . . . just . . . it seemed like everything was getting out of hand. He'd risked his life twice over things that were miniscule after thinking them over. Was his pride really worth his life? Or was it principle? He'd been ready to fight J.R. after he pulled a gun on Tristan, but even if he'd managed to save Tristan, what would've happened to him?
Yugi felt so confused, so, so confused.
The rain stopped suddenly, leaving his face dripping with excess. Yugi peered up into a round navy blue shade and followed the arm attached. His purple gaze meant the warmth of autumn colored eyes.
"Is this what the young bucks do these days when needing a breather?" Atem's amused voice cut through the downpour like a sword.
Yugi squinted, brain working to remember a name, "Mr. Hassan?"
"Atem actually," Atem took a squat in the swing next to Yugi's, legs more bent to the height difference, yet he had the poise to pull it off. Atem was wearing a large brown trench coat, buttoned to his neck and dark black dress pants poking at the end. He fixed the umbrella over their heads and looked at Yugi's downcast face. "Hm, I'd say the flowers out here were enjoying this god forsaken weather. They're like you it seems, using the rain as an escape from reality."
Yugi snorted at that, "I'm hardly a flower."
"No you're not, but you're just as wilted," Atem leaned forward so his face was in clear view of Yugi's. "Something on your mind, young buck?"
Yugi didn't reply right away.
"If it's too difficult to talk about—"
"That'd be the easy part," Yugi deadpanned.
Atem barely heard him over the shower and asked he repeat himself.
Yugi inhaled and exhaled and said, "Talking about my problems is the easy part. Its dealing with them that has me messed up."
"Oh," Atem's lips pursed together. He drew his face upward, watching the upper atmosphere's turmoil with the weather. "That comes with the territory. Life's meant to be jumbled and confusing. There's never a straight answer for what you want to know."
"I wish it wasn't so complicated."
"Then there wouldn't be the fun of discovering shortcuts," Atem glanced at Yugi's face out the corner of his eye and saw the teen was still occupied in his own universe. "I take it you didn't have a pleasant weekend."
Yugi snorted, "Definitely not. My whole day was one big fuck up." After dropping the F bomb, Yugi mustered the rest of the courage to explain bits and pieces of what happened to him and Tristan without giving too much away. Sitting in the rain, talking to this stranger was already unsettling. Revealing too much of his business would be pushing it. "I'm just wondering when it'll all slow down." Yugi added after explaining his story. "Everything's happened so fast. It's like a domino effect; one event triggering the next and I'm the factor that tilted the first."
"I suppose that's a good way of putting it," Atem nodded. "But the dominos can't stand forever. Something will have to give them that push to begin the trail of destiny. When you light the fire, don't expect it to go out so quickly. It'll burn out on its own." The older man produced a cigarette out of his chest pocket, got his lighter and ignited the end, the wisps of white smoke adding to the rainy surface.
Yugi was, somewhat, stunned at how things were explained. The way this guy spoke, you'd think he'd seen it all and dealt his cards in a pattern that best suited the situation. Had he ever experienced troubles as jumbled as Yugi's? If so, how did he deal with it all? The pressure of any problem could wear a man down to his knees. Yugi wondered how long it would take before the weight of everything started tugging him down to the ground.
"You're your own problem Yugi."
"Hn," Yugi tooted his lips to the side. "You don't know me like that. How would you?"
"I can hear the anxiety in your voice when you speak; the dread and tireness. You should really stop placing all the world's problems on your shoulders. Leave some of the stress for others to deal with."
"I want you but . . . sometimes I think if I don't do it, someone's likely to suffer."
"You're not a hero, Yugi. Not everything can be resolved all at once. You need to accept that. Life won't be easier for you, trust me. It'll get harder."
Yugi chewed his bottom lip, thinking and soon leaned his head forward to catch Atem's attention, "Have you ever, um," he thought a moment. "Ever had to do things you thought were right only to learn they may have been stupid?"
Atem took a drag of his cigarette, "Plenty of times, young buck. But I learn from my mistakes and move on. That's what I love about life. It's all a game, and we are the punned pieces to the board." He released the pent up smoke through his nostrils, gathering the appearance of a mythical warlock.
Yugi's eyes followed a bit of smoke before the rain ate through its defenses, "Life shouldn't be taken so lightly. I should know. You'll wind up dead or taken from someone who needs you."
"That's the game, young buck. You play it until the very end. Those troubled moments are just devices to hold you back from reaching the end. There will be more drama to come, some possibly more traitorous than this but you never stop. You said you risked your life and your friend nearly lost his?" Atem shrugged nonchalantly. "Move on from that now. You're still alive and able to take the next step to reaching the end."
"You sound like you've been through that; near death I mean."
"Do I?" Atem flicked the excess ashes off the burning tip and reinserted it. "Maybe. After the first few times, you learn to let it go."
Yugi frowned, "First few times?"
Atem chuckled, the short tenor exuding low, quiet danger. Atem looked him over a moment, the glare so utterly dark in his eyes it stole Yugi's breath away. There was a reflection of an aged predator, like a pack leader of a wolf clan, who'd lead his crew to many kills.
"I've been on the end of a gun enough times to outmatch your age, young buck." Atem stood and flicked some ash from the tip of his cigarette. "What does that tell you about poor decision making?"
Yugi shifted in his seat, "But you lived each time."
Atem stared forward, "I never said which end of the gun I was on," With those words, the older man thumped the last of his cigarette away and started off down the sidewalk.
Without his umbrella.
Yugi blinked up and saw he'd somehow hooked the curved end through the chain link so it hung over Yugi. Yugi carefully undid the fixings and hurried after him to return it.
Atem stopped him with the palm of his hand, "Keep it. You've been rained on enough."
"It's not mine," Yugi held it over both their heads. "Please, you'll catch a chill."
"If I let a little cold wear me down, I need my ass kicked."
Yugi shivered. Damn, his voice could command kingdoms. The depth of Atem's voice warmed Yugi to the pit of his shoes.
Atem stared off into the distance, eyes entranced with the aches of sodden flowers, pooling puddles and the night refusing to surrender. "I should get going and so should you."
"Why were you out here?" Yugi asked.
Atem said nothing for a while before closing his eyes and turning away, "Taking a stroll."
"In the middle of the night? Why?"
Atem chuckled, lightly ruffling Yugi's wet hair, "That's my business, young buck. Go home to get your head together. I'll see you again."
"You want too?"
"I do."
"Oh, then, I guess we'll see each other sometime," Yugi bowed at the waist. "Thank you for your advice." He sprinted around Atem, waving over his shoulder. He disappeared through the shrouded mists, a shadow amongst the rest.
The umbrella was left on the ground. Atem smirked, "A heart of gold, that one." He bent down to pluck his umbrella up and closed it. The rain continued to come in throes. His fingers lightly glazed over the Desert Eagle .50 Tiger handgun hidden in his waistband, "Another time perhaps," he murmured to the winds.
Atem pushed in a loaded magazine and growled under his breath, "Damn." The battleground wouldn't be evened out as much as he intended tonight.
Too much time was spent here.
And it was all because Yugi entered the game without knowing he'd kept a few lives from being lost. But he wouldn't save them all.
After talking so long with Atem, Yugi found himself even more restless but with a clearer mind. Sleep continued to condemn to him to a night of delirium. And Yugi just didn't have the mental endurance to stay in bed and toy around with it all.
He'd taken the scenic route down the way to a local café called Galilee. It wasn't far from home, a mile at the most, so when he left, it was a straight shot after turning the first right corner. The café stayed open twenty four hours during the weekend; the hours between five and seven a.m. being the time the business was congested with incoming truck drivers and business owners, desiring a fresh cup of coffee or hot breakfast.
When he pushed open the door, the bell chimed brightly, and it made him smile. Already he felt the air conditioned clinging his soggy clothing to his body like spider webs and the swaying charms of the atmosphere relaxing his mind. Music filtered from the ceiling speakers playing Kenny G's, The Moment. Something sweet and jazzy and soothing to quiet his mind's inner bedlam. Yugi closed his eyes and sighed, automatically guiding floated to the third booth on the right, next to a panel window. It led to a cozy opening view of the horizon opening upon the city in apricot, lavender and crimson shades.
The rain died away to a mild drizzle. There weren't a lot of people in this Sunday morning.
That was fine. Yugi could use a little privacy.
He could empty his mind here . . . he could, he could remember old times here.
He and Heba used to sneak out of the house at night when Heba was in his better moods and order small cappuccinos, and frappes. Heba would order a small sweet tea for Yugi to drink while he got a cold frappe with extra caramel. What fun that was. Yugi's expression had been aglow back then when Heba told him stories of about all the devilment he got into with his friends as a child or how often Grandpa had the energy back then to chase him with a belt.
Funny.
Just sitting, with his mind melting into the past, this place stillcarried that old traditional sensuality. That was something Yugi needed now, a hint of familiarity and calming uniqueness to remedy his mind. The tranquil melody coming from Kenny G gradually hummed him back to old times. To that one time, he had to ask. He wanted to know something . . .
~0~0~0~
"Do you love me?" A six year old Yugi questioned his older brother just before bedtime.
The tall, thickly built teenager finished pulling the outer comforter to Yugi's neck and dropped into a crouch beside his bed. Heba gave a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his maroon eyes, letting the tips of his large dexterous fingers graze over the curvature of Yugi's cheek. ". . . . no."
Forlorn shadows appeared to overshadow the small shine left in Heba's eyes. Yugi shifted beneath his covers, tiny hands trembling. Those times, came more often now. Like an uncorked flow of sadness enveloping Heba's spirit.
Yugi sniffled, untucking his hand to grasp over the large index finger tracing his cheek, "That's ok, Heba. I love you. Even when you hate me. Is that alright?"
The shadows faded. They strayed off long enough for Heba's smile to come, "No," he murmured, voice a buried tone of regret. "You're so pure Yugi. That's why I don't deserve to be your big brother."
~0~0~0~
"Here," said a rough voice.
A napkin drooped in front of Yugi's face and with it were five long, bejeweled fingers.
Yugi jolted and crashed landed back to reality. He couldn't fight the onslaught of tears bubbling out the corners of his eyes. They rolled, one by one, a drop adding the raindrops still clinging to his face. God, when had that started?
He looked up and jumped again. This was the last face he'd been expecting in a place like this.
Yugi swallowed his gasp, but his eyes grew as round as dinner plates. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. The O.G. overshadowed Yugi's right flank, wearing a short sleeve grey casual slim fit button up shirt and trim fitted Levi jeans, flare around some low top force ones. An imminent aura enveloped Yugi's eyes the longer he stared into the tinted mulberry eyes. The intensity of his gaze seemed to dive through Yugi's chest and imprison his lungs.
"You were crying," The O.G.'s deep voice said.
Yugi gave a deep sigh and relented. He reached for the napkin and rubbed under his eyes, "Thank you," he murmured. "You didn't have too."
"No, I didn't," The O.G. said. "But I've found myself doing a lot of things I don't need to do." He pulled a steaming cup from behind his back and pushed it across the table in front of Yugi.
A caramel macchiato bubbling to the top with whipped white foam and zigzagged caramel drizzles. The smell whiffed through Yugi's nostrils, stirring a satisfied purr in his chest. When Yugi palmed the warm mug. As it slowly dawned on him who was sitting himself across from him, his chest constricted.
The O.G. paused before sitting himself, "Is there a problem?"
Yugi shook his head, "No, no not at all. It's just, well, I'm surprised. Why would a red blood be in here? Why sit with me?"
"I always sit here when I come to this café."
"Oh."
A pregnant pause followed, "Does my company make you uncomfortable?"
"Yes," Yugi answered honestly. "Not so much you in general," he was fast to add. "It's who you are. Your status isn't easy to overlook."
"And yet here you are talking to me."
"I," Yugi's mouth closed. He chuckled. "I still shouldn't. You kill people."
"I regulate, is what I'd call it," The O.G. corrected smoothly. "Killing's such a crude way of putting things."
"It's still murder," Yugi mumbled, drumming his fingers around the cup. "You just confessed to me, you know. I should turn you in."
"You think I would've admitted anything if I was concerned about that?" The O.G. coolly replied. "You don't have the balls. You'd shit your pants before you hit the police station."
Yugi rolled his eyes, "I've clearly lost my mind if I'm sitting here talking to a gang leader."
"That was cleared up moments ago. And you're free to choose another spot to sit."
Yugi gave a small shrug, "No point. I'm so lost in thought; I probably won't remember we're having a conversation. Or better yet, I'll realize this was another opportunity to lose my life when I get some sleep." He rotated cup his mug between his hands. "Have you ever felt that way sometimes?"
O.G. interlaced his fingers together, and leaned to the side, side glancing Yugi out of his peripheral, "Felt what way?"
"Overwhelmed with life? Like everything's taken out of your control. I do things I think are right and later realize I was a total idiot for doing it." Yugi peered down at the soupy foam deforming into a murky white. "I thought I'd resolved my issues when I talked to a friend earlier. He made it sound so easy. Life's a game, he said. But I can't treat life so casually. Not when I have so much at stake. Baseball, someday college, taking care of my grandpa, staying alive," he laughed bitterly at that. "That last one shouldn't even be a priority but it is." Yugi lifted the cup to his mouth and took a small sip. The warmth blossomed as it rolled down his throat. He smiled. "It used to be easier when my brother was alive. Heba could be the responsible one, and I got to mess around and do whatever I wanted. I just knew he'd always be there to clean up the mess no matter what." His grip clenched the ashy glass mug. "Then he had to go and leave everything on my shoulders. He had to get himself killed over bullshit. He should've just come home. Had he'd just listened. All he had to do was come home." Yugi's grip lessened, and once more, he drunk another mouthful, the burn scorching his tongue. "I can blame him all I want, ya know. Heba's long gone and probably living it up somewhere in heaven or hell or wherever we go after this life."
Yugi looked up to find the O.G.'s eyes concentrated solely on him. He hadn't interrupted once, or laughed or dismissed Yugi's whining as another teenager's hormonal struggle. He just listened attentively, the only show of movement being his blinking eyes and the occasional drum of his fingertips.
Yugi chewed his tongue, a light flare of pink tinting his cheeks, "Sorry, I'm rambling."
O.G. shook his head.
"You probably have more to do then listen to a kid complain about his problems."
"If I did, I'd be there doing it," O.G. mumbled behind his braided fingers. "A few minutes lost on me, won't harm another."
"What made you listen to me?"
O.G. bumped his shoulders in a small shrug, "Boredom, more or less."
Oh. He's so honest. Yugi gathered his drink and took another drink, relieved it was still warm, "May I ask why you're out this late?"
"Patrolling," O.G. stated simply. "This hour's less active, but one can never be too caution."
"You do this often?"
"Do you sneak out of the house often?" The O.G. lifted a curious eyebrow at Yugi. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"
Yugi choked on his macchiato and checked the wall clock above his head.
"Shit," It read an evil 7:51. Damn. Yugi scrambled to pull money out of his pocket, coming back with sticky lint and dust. "Damn it, I must've forgot my wallet."
O.G. held up his hand, "It's already paid for."
"You didn't have too—"
"I insist this time," O.G. lowered his hand, no hint of a smile but his voice could melt ice with a whisper. "Go on home, Yugi."
That was twice in one day Yugi shivered like hooked nails were delicately massaging his back. A blush raced up his neck and blanketed his cheeks. He smiled and eased out of the booth to bow and smiled, "I'll pay you back, I promise. Thank you very much, Mr. O.G."
The formal title was waved off, "It's Yami. No mister included."
"Yami," Yugi tasted—tested the name in his mouth and decided right away he liked it. "Thank you, Yami."
Yami's nodded, "Go home."
With that exchanged done, Yugi headed toward the exit. He stopped before pushing the glass door open and saw it at once.
There was no one in the whole café. It was void of anyone, even the cashier. Yugi's eyes subtly strayed over to Yami's face and saw nothing revealing his discomfort of this. Yugi grimly pressed his lips together and left before his opinion of the Red Eyes Leader changed.
For now, he wanted to believe the man was human. Even if it was just for tonight.
Yami's hawk gaze shattered when his cell started vibrating in his chest pocket. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his android. He didn't check the caller ID, "Talk to me."
"Eastbound was struck!" Valon panicky accent flooded the receiver. "Fuck, oh shit, oh shit. We didn't see 'em comin', Chief. Atem and the whole lot of 'em. Ah fuck—"
"Aussie, calm down!" Yami barked angrily. He shot out of his seat, stalking toward the exit. "Slow down and tell me where on Eastbound!"
"Mag—Magnolia and Willow Brook. They burned it to the ground. Ain't shit left in there but ashes!" Valon left the phone a few seconds to shout orders and tame the chaos riddling in the background.
How the hell—one of the sling houses? Shit. Yami set his mouth in a thin line, "Where the hell is Dennis? That's his sector!"
The silence wasn't a good sign. Yami's growl through the phone urged Valon to speak on, "He bailed when shit got hot. We lost count about eight or nine. Probably a dozen." Joey's hair rustled against the receiver as he continued. "He didn't come alone either. That tight ass, Seth was with 'em. They came rollin' in about five deep and just started blazin' the whole street."
That son of a bitch. The property was just renovated last month and stored with over thousands worth of merchandise. Yami's index and thumb rubbed the pressure between his eyes. He should've known Atem wasn't going to stay low for long. When a few runners said they'd witnessed him lingering around the playground, it startled Yami out of bed and out on the streets to track the T.O.G. down before he started terrorizing the neighbor.
That'd been around 5:00 this morning. Why had he waited until nearly eight to attack? It didn't make sense. Atem never procrastinated. Yami should've been able to catch his ass.
"Did he kill them?" Yami eventually asked.
Valon snorted bitterly, "Nah, same as always. He kidnapped them."
Yami closed his eyes tight, a deep roar of dread souring his mood. Those who were kidnapped wouldn't be recovered. Atem was going to kill them slow and painful and enjoy every minute of it.
Yami sighed, "Damn." Atem was a fool. If he thought this would be handled without retaliation, he was in for a rude awakening. Yami knew very well how to approach this.
Since Atem loved to play games, it was Yami's turn to move.