Disclaimer: I hold no rights to Yugioh.
Chapter 9: Sometimes It's Healthy to Avoid the Issue
By the time Katsuya let himself in the evening a day and a half later, his father's light snores were filtering through the living room from the open bedroom door.
There was really no telling how long he'd been in the phone booth; he hadn't seen a clock before fleeing the mansion. It couldn't have been too long, considering that it was only noon when Mai had pulled up and he rarely woke before ten, but it had seemed to take hours just to stop crying long enough to dial the number. Finally having somewhat collected himself, he mentally went down the list of possible rescuers, eliminating them as fast as he could think their names. His father would certainly help him, of course, but he still didn't know about the P's P. As far as he knew Katsuya had a job waiting tables in a nightclub; only half a lie, but nonetheless, if Mr. Jounochi found out the true nature of his son's profession, there was no way he'd let Katsuya continue to work there just to give his own father another chance at life; let alone the Kaiba situation inevitably coming up. It would be too humiliating. He never even considered calling his mother or sister. His mother was kind of a bitch, and he didn't care to give her any information about his personal life; Shizuka was just a kid, and she didn't need to know any of this either.
No family, then.
His friends were great, surely, but... He wasn't ready for them to know anything about what had transpired. Not yet, anyhow, when he barely knew himself. Yuugi would have given him a wide-eyed look of horror, sweet naivety shattered under the knowledge, and still trying to console him in the childlike way he did most everything. Or, worse still, the black spirit would likely love another chance to loose some Shadow Magick, which Katsuya thought to be tempting, but unnecessary. His soul churned at the thought, at once guilty for it.
He thought Honda would be a good choice, but even as he lifted his hand to do it, he saw with clarity the repercussions: Honda would go straight to Kaiba's. And likely get himself hurt very badly. He stopped dialing as the scene played out: loyal, temperamental Honda, gunning for the mansion with all the ferocity of a warrior whose homestead had been pillaged... Well. That was not a good idea. Keeping the details to himself was out of the question, since he'd have been collected half-naked and close to hysterical by his pointy-haired companion. He would never take "I'll tell you later" for an answer. Not Honda, then, either.
Anzu's mouth was too large for discretion, and however she may have good intentions, her concern would only further complicate everything.
Ryou, he felt he barely knew, and not well enough to burden him now, with this.
His resources becoming exhausted, nearly panicked and convinced he was all on his own and totally, utterly screwed, an answer broke over him like the dawn. A blond flash of attitude and loveliness, the latter tempered by the former: who, if anyone, could he trust, who had no real ties of her own to the rest of his life, and the experience and common sense to help him in this ridiculous situation?
Mai.
He'd no sooner thought it than felt fresh tears come to his eyes, but these were the blessed tears of relief. He had dialed her number from memory, whispering a quick prayer of thanks that he could do such a thing. She picked up on the third ring.
"Yeah."
It was a statement more than a greeting; Katsuya smiled weakly to hear it. Only Mai could make a single word sound like a command to work for her attention.
"Mai? It's me. Uhhm. Uhhm..." Katsuya fumbled for the next sentence, not at all sure how he could begin to tell her what was going on.
He never even had the chance; Mai's tone had changed at the underlying trauma in his voice. "Where are you, Katsuya?"
When she arrived, she'd already bought the clothes. He hadn't told her he was wearing nothing but the skirt, only that he was indisposed to leaving the structure. She'd smirked when he asked her how she knew to get them, merely saying, "Just a hunch, babe. Why else would you be trapped in a phone booth? A sniper wouldn't let you call me." He'd thanked her in rambling spurts and oaths to pay her back, but she'd just tossed him the wardrobe and guarded the booth while he changed, barking, "Take a hike, bozo!" at anyone foolhardy enough to let their gaze linger. Silent, she'd escorted him to her car and driven to a nearby cafe, asking no questions, only sparing a thoughtful glance or two at stoplights. He couldn't have asked for anything else, still not trusting his voice's ability to conjure the tale. She bade him sit down when they arrived, and ordered him a thick roast beef sandwich on a croissant, a blueberry muffin, seasoned potatoes, a small garden salad, and a steamy cup of broccoli cheese soup, as well as black coffee and biscotti for them both. He ate all of it, relishing every bite, caught unawares by the torrid eruption of his hunger when the laden plates came his way. He loved eating, wrought with turmoil or no.
It was just the right thing to do, he thought when he'd finished. He felt still heartbroken and weary to the bone; inarguably, though, the act of taking sustenance, of willfully preserving his life, was an active opposition to despair. It helped. He was touched again by Mai's kindness and intuition, noticing again how silent he'd been throughout. She must have been curious, and yet she had not pressed him to say anything at all, only tending to his immediate needs and waiting for him to get to it. He drew a deep breath, watching her eyebrows rise slightly as she noticed him about to speak.
He told her everything, starting at the beginning: his father's attempt to recover, the job, the luxuries it had provided, a brief description of the dancing, including the presently relevant Mystery Dance. She nodded at all the right intervals, interjecting here and there to ask questions. Her face betrayed nothing of her thoughts as he told her about the first time he'd danced for Kaiba, then unknowing of his identity, of the game of hide-and-seek at school and the confrontation. Then, after a near week of absence, how he'd lingered in the shadows of the club, the final night when he'd revealed himself. That had been last night.
He paused, then, drinking deep from his rich beverage and shuddering at the challenge of continuing. Oh, god, and to think this is way easier than tellin' anybody else is gonna be. Still, he hesitated, very tempted to end the story. He didn't, of course. He resumed after clearing his throat, if only for the fact that Mai was no idiot, and had, most likely, figured it out already. From what she'd heard thus far and his state when she'd acquired him, he was fairly certain it was enough. Gaining his bearings, he ground out an abbreviated version, enough to say that it was consensual and mutually instigated. If she was disappointed that the recount was not so detailed as it could have been, she did not show it.
At the last event, though, anger sharpened her features, alighting with emotion for the first time since he'd begun this tale, which, all in all, had taken three-quarters of an hour in the telling. "He threw it at your head?"
"Well, I dunno... Depends on how good his aim is, I guess." He slumped down in his chair, head in his hands, studying the tiny spatters of food his meal had left on the polished wooden tabletop. Mai regarded him solemnly.
"What a prick." She sighed slightly. "You know, Jounochi... I'm not gonna bother offering to rough him up, since you coulda called someone else if that was all it would take for you to feel better." She smiled that grin of hers, the one that seemed rueful and sultry and carnivorous all at once, and Katsuya was once more glad of her company. That grin was what had memorized so many, had condemned men and women alike to a fascination more intense than even the best of physical proportioning could ever induce, although she had that as well. To Katsuya, seeing it the first time on the trip to Dualist's Kingdom had been like recognizing a long-lost sister. She had laughingly responded that she had felt the same, not bothering to alter the sentiment to 'long-lost brother'. "Though it sounds like a fine idea, right now." She gazed at Katsuya with fondness. "What do you want to do now? Is that what you'd like me to help you figure out?"
He nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Good ol' Mai. Bitch knows me too well, but the thought held no malice.
"Do you know?" He shook his head, feeling the lump grow larger and swallowing against it. "Babe, I think you've had a rough couple of days." She smiled at the joke of her own understatement. "Are you going to try to talk to him?" Katsuya shrugged, suddenly completely miserable again, the light of fond memories overtaken by the grief Kaiba had left him with. He cast his eyes down and slumped even further. She looked at him for a few moments and then punched him gently in the arm.
"Maybe you should jump off this bridge tomorrow, hmm? We'll have some mindless fun for a while and you can crash with me, we'll shop and stuff, you can get a full night's sleep and then maybe, after you've had some time in which you aren't totally blown away by all this shit, you can sort it out." She sounded adamant, a decision voiced in a single breath after a long time of restrained concern. Letting the corners of her mouth turn up at his reaction, or lack thereof, the next part she said more slowly. "I know you, and I know you want to confront things and fix everything right now," she said gently, putting up a hand to halt his protests at being accused of such a naive mindset, "but I want you to take care of yourself."
"But if I don't try to talk to him, he'll think I don't even care."
Her eyes narrowed a bit, and the ghost of her smile withered. After hearing all, she truly had a bit less compassion for Kaiba's side of things than her friend. Even so, she groped for words that would not make it sound like she was telling him what to do. "Kaiba's not going to leave the country, and when it's been more than a few hours, you know, you can try to talk to him. If you even want to." She frowned then, a formidable sight. Glad that's not me she's frownin' at. "I honestly don't think I would be at all opposed to kicking his teeth down his throat if the next knick-knack connects. It's your decision, though, babe. I'll do what I can for you, if you've got anything you need, either way."
She did. Upon arriving, she promptly called Katsuya's father, telling him that he was ill, not too ill, just a flu or something, and that he should go ahead and call the school and tell them he'd be back in a few days. Knowing his son's attendance had become important to him, he took it in good faith after speaking with the teen himself for a few moments.
He asked leave to use the shower, unable to go any longer. He felt dirty. Reaching the bathroom he shut the door and flipped the light switch. His head felt ten pounds heavier, and the bulk of it seemed to be sitting in his overstressed eyeballs. He braced himself and faced the mirror.
He found his eyes to in fact be much less tragic-looking than he'd anticipated, no worse than when he'd worked a long shift or tried to function on only nine hours' sleep. The newly-bought outfit of a light sweater and Levi's hung nicely from his smallish frame, the collared shirt underneath thankfully hiding the plum-colored marks dotting his neck and collarbone. They had made a quick stop at the club to get his haversack, which had been left behind the night before... His skirt was stowed inside, out of sight until Katsuya could decide whether or not to just burn the damn thing. He doubted he'd ever work in it again.
Hell, I don't know that I'm ever doing another shift in anything, period.
A heavy sigh later, he reached into the shower stall and turned the taps on full blast, the water hot enough to trick even the most reluctant muscles into relaxing. He slipped easily from his suit of clothing and stood still, watching his reflection slowly dissolve as the thick steam coated its surface. Bathing himself slowly, he let his mind wander with the vapor and the sweet, cloying aromas of Mai's exquisite soaps and gels. He took near two hours to himself before emerging.
This done, Mai ushered him none too gently into her bedroom and shut him inside, demanding he sleep. Lying in the down of Mai's comforter, his stomach pleasantly filled and the dampness of his hair cooling his scalp, the buzz of his mind subsided. Sleep he did, then, and it was sweetly dreamless and heavy.
He rose in the late morning the next day, shocked to find it so. It had been five o' clock when he'd finished showering. He'd slept nineteen hours.
"Mornin', sunshine!" Mai stood next to the small dining table, glittering with an extra large combination pizza and a two-liter soda. Stumbling from the bedroom and catching the sight, he could have wept for the beauty of it. She smiled. "Breakfast. Or whatever." She had been awake awhile.
His appetite had returned, and he ate the entire thing after Mai's assurances that she's already eaten. "Crap, I like, passed the fuck out, huh?" he asked between mouthfuls. She nodded at him and chuckled. "Sorry. Thanks for giving me the bed, you know, I would have taken the couch..."
"No worries. Feel any better?"
Katsuya managed a stoic smile. "A bit, yeah. Thanks." Mai busied herself with folding the blankets she'd used, and Katsuya finished the pizza and chugged soda from the huge bottle.
The two had the day Mai had promised, showering each other with tiny gifts in fashionable stores, eating heaps (mainly Katsuya ate heaps; Mai ate normally) of delicate foods in dimly lit bistros, talking with the certain catty ease and understanding known only fag-to-hag. It had helped. It took his mind off of things, at least a little bit, and the day had passed.
When he asked what she'd done all evening while he slept, she winked at him coyly. "You don't want to know."
Kissing his cheek in farewell, she had dropped him off at his apartment, where he was now. "Call me." Her tone was order rather than request.
"I will."
Sneaking past his slumbering father into his room, he wondered if he should go to school the next day. It would be Wednesday. He readied for bed, and ultimately decided to decide in the morning. As he slipped under the covers and settled in, sleepiness closing in with alacrity, his mind turned to Mai, and how she hadn't told him where she'd gone. He shrugged mentally, and thought no more that night.
As it happened, he most certainly did want to know, although it was best she hadn't told him.
