Jounouchi's weekend passed relatively uneventfully in comparison to his Friday night. With his newly acquired money, he had bought new, clean shirts, he'd had his school blazer laundered so that he didn't look like he'd been sleeping rough in it, even though he, of course, had, and he had bought so much food that he had kind of scared the clerk. He'd also found an abandoned warehouse near the edge of town where he was keeping all his stuff. When he'd tested one of the light switches, the bulb had exploded. He'd thought that was really cool, though he remembered to not try turning the lights on again. Now he had two cardboard boxes full of non-perishables, water, clothes, and other essentials he'd bought to keep himself clean with. He'd even dragged in a (kind of gross) mattress and covered it in a blanket so that he wouldn't have to sleep on the dirty floor.

Life was good, he thought to himself, as he lay belly-up on his sagging mattress, staring at the ceiling. It was so high that it could've been a million miles away. It got really hot in here, so he was just in his boxers, slowly cooking in the stifling heat. He took a deep breath of the delicious stale air, and then sighed. He groped around on the floor nearby for his watch, and brought it to eye level: four p.m., Sunday afternoon. Sunday afternoons were the worst, he thought, as he rolled over and set his watch back down next to his clothes. Now he was bundled into a little ball, facing the door and smelling the sweet scent of old, used mattress.

He had school tomorrow. He also had homework to do, he remembered. As a rattling cough wracked him for a few minutes, he figured his stupid homework could wait until he got better. He thought he was getting a cold; his throat had been hurting since Friday and now he felt like pure unadulterated shit. His cough made his nose feel like it was going to explode, and he lay there shaking once it had passed. He wished he had those painkillers. Or the antibiotics. He wondered who had them now; his dad had obviously sold them to somebody. It occurred to him that he could go and get more pills, but that would involve moving, and he didn't really want to do that right now.

Near five, he passed out for a while.

When he came to, he could see only that it was dark. He lay very still and let his eyes focus, then his gaze settled on the blaring green display of his watch. Ten at night. He already knew he wasn't going to be able to fall back asleep; usually he slept in alleyways where there was a fluorescent light on, and he found it comforting. Here, there were no lights. He made a mental note to buy a torch or something tomorrow. Then he sat up, stiffened, and listened.

Cars rumbled. An owl hooted. Somewhere far away, he could hear the thrum and throb of a club. There weren't any people nearby. He told himself he was being stupid for thinking otherwise - why the hell would anybody come out here? There were better places to spend the night in the inner city, he knew that. He figured that going for a walk might soothe his nerves, so he rolled off his mattress and got himself dressed. He thought, with a smirk as he did so, that he was used to getting dressed in the dark, for a variety of reasons.

Clothed, he stumbled out the rusting door. His feet crunched on dry grass. When he threw his gaze to his right, he could see a field that stretched on for as far as he could see. At the end of that field, the landscape transformed into farmland and countryside. He would have to go down there someday, but tonight he felt like heading into the city. So his feet took him towards the outskirts of town, and once his feet met pavement he felt better immediately.

This was on the other side of town to where his dad lived, so there was a precious safety in being here. The alleyways were a little narrower than the ones he usually habited, but that didn't bother him because he was heading for a busier, wider street. There would be more people around, and he would feel less isolated.

He'd thought that, anyway, but when he emerged onto the high street, there was almost nobody around. Feeling slightly bemused by this, but taking it in his stride, Jounouchi turned right of random volition and kept on walking.

Meanwhile, a boy was pointing a flick knife at Kaiba.

This didn't seem to faze him even remotely. In fact, he raised an eyebrow, asking without words: exactly what do you intend to do with that?

"Gimme your money."

Kaiba did not particularly want to give anybody any amount of his money. "No," he said. He considered briefly turning to walk away, but he didn't want to get stabbed in the back.

"Listen up, you bastard," the boy snarled as he loped closer, "do you want a fucking stabbing?" The knife glinted vaguely in the amber streetlight glow.

Kaiba swallowed. He was feeling scared, but he wouldn't let it show. "Obviously not," he said curtly.

"Then cut your bullshit and give me your fucking money. Then nobody has to get hurt. Right?" Now the boy was smiling at him, leering. He put his hand on Kaiba's shoulder. Like they were friends.

And then suddenly he was howling in pain as someone dragged him away by his hair; he was flailing and in the confusion he dropped the knife, and it skidded to Kaiba's feet. Kaiba kicked it away towards nearby trashcans, and then stared in confusion at his apparent saviour.

"You just made," Jounouchi growled at the boy who lay now shaking at his feet, "a big. Fucking. Mistake." With each word, Jounouchi sank his foot into the kid's stomach. A sick smile twisted his features as he thought of all the things he could do; he had a lot of frustrations and fears and here was his punching bag.

"Jounouchi. Stop it." Jounouchi threw Kaiba a cursory glance, but still he kicked the boy in the side of the head a final time. "For God's sake. You're insane." Jounouchi then stared back at Kaiba, the streetlamps throwing his face into awkward light. A little blood spurt anointed his cheekbone.

"Go home. Okay? Just go the fuck home," he snapped. Why was Kaiba here? Why would he put himself in danger like that? What an idiot.

Kaiba wanted to ask him why he was so angry, but at the same time, he could tell that this was a question better left unasked. "Alright. Thanks."

He turned to leave. He was sure that once he turned the corner he'd hear once again the sound of pummelled flesh, but he didn't. Instead, after he'd been walking for about ten minutes, behind him he could hear pounding feet, and he froze. Somebody was after him. He was never going to go out at night again.

Eventually his pursuer caught up to him. Jounouchi doubled over, panting.

"You ran all that way?"

He nodded.

"…Why?"

Shortly, Jounouchi straightened up, one arm across his side, holding his side stitch.

"We're even now."

Kaiba considered this for a moment, and then nodded. Jounouchi did not like to owe people favours. He didn't like to be indebted. He couldn't take gifts because he didn't fully understand the concept of not having to pay somebody back. Kaiba had helped him by taking him to hospital. And now he had repaid the favour.

"I didn't realise it mattered that much to you," Kaiba commented, but this wasn't something Jounouchi had any reply to. Kaiba had no idea.

"Well, goodbye then," Kaiba said eventually.

"Bye."

He walked away a few paces, then he stopped, and turned.

"Shouldn't you be going home too?"

Jounouchi scowled at him.

"Yeah. I guess. I mean, whatever. See you later."

They both then left, heading in opposite directions. Jounouchi wanted to shout at him, to ask him why he hadn't bothered to come to school on Friday, to tell him that he was a fucking idiot, to tell him that he didn't want to see him anyway, but instead he just walked. Kaiba was going home to a mansion. With food. With a comfortable bed. With walls and a roof and security. And Jounouchi, well, he was going to a crappy warehouse, but it had all of those things too. Kind of. And it was his own! That's right, Jounouchi thought, as he strode off with his head held high, he didn't need anybody to help him.

But he still would've rather gone home with Kaiba.