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Chapter 13

Saturday Afternoon

Kisara

Muscled shoulders flexed impressively underneath a black tight t-shirt as my tutor stowed away his books in his backpack. He had probably worn that shirt on purpose. Either that or he was good at picking clothes that suited him but I highly doubted that one. There was something too rugged about him. With his unruly hair and dirt coated jeans, it seemed like he didn't have the patience for vanity.

My contemplation of his character was cut short as he turned his full attention to my prone form, his backpack slung lazily across his shoulder and a soft smile on his lips.

"Well it's been fun working with you." Although the statement sound genuine, he obviously felt the awkwardness of the situation for his southern accent changed the you to a strong sounding ya.

"Yes it has been." I replied with a smile that must have been dazzling for his soft smile widened to a grin and his azure irises lightened to an iridescent cerulean.

He looked, at that moment, prepared to leave but then he seemed to have a mental reminder for hurriedly reached for something in his pocket. The object, apparently, was a slip of paper, and he stretched out his arm to hand me it. "If you need anything don't hesitate to call."

Carefully, I unfolded my arm from my side (ignoring the dull ache that resulted from the motion) and placed my open hand underneath his. Slowly he dropped the paper to my palm, making sure to drag his calloused fingertips across the delicate skin of my open hand before he backed away to the door. With one last heated glance that would have made any woman's lower abs clench, he turned around and entered the hallway.

I waited until he had disappeared completely from my view before I placed the phone number on the nearby nightstand. A part of me wanted to indulge in the impulsive fling he presented, but I could not rationalize a reason convincing enough to go through with it. Besides all he would be worth to me was a physical affair that lasted a month or two before we through each other way like trash.

Expect for one. He haunted the corners of my mind, always a thought away. At the very sight of the color blue, the image of arctic blue hued irises printed themselves upon my eyelids inciting both sparks of electricity and numbness throughout my nervous system. Fantasies of a lingering feathery touch and quiet husky words dragged me out of reality, reduced me to a quivering bundle of strung out nerves, and twisted my stomach into sharp knots that took it me hours to recover from. I was being destroyed by his presence, and I knew if I didn't come up with a solution soon that I might not be able to glue the pieces back together.

Before I was dragged back down into the inescapable abyss, I grabbed my cell phone from the night stand. The motions were mechanical to me as I pressed the speed dial and put the phone to my ear, the familiar ring echoing loudly against my sensitive eardrum.

A minute later, my father's deep tenor was projected from the plastic device delivering the question, "What did they say?"

The power my father's voice held had always amazed me. It sounded as if he was right in the room with me, breathing over my shoulder as he pinned me with those fierce eyes. Sometimes, I found myself looking at my surroundings just to see if he was there or not. This was one of those times and although the dull white floors and walls reminded me of a padded cell, I felt, for the first time, relief in their confinement.

"I'm making a fast recovery and I can be picked up today."

From the other line, I could hear the subtle shift of papers, the quick typing of fingers and in the very distance a dull quiet conversation. My father's heavy breathing pierced the silence in my hospital room causing goosebumps to crawl along my exposed arms.

"Call one of your friends; see if they can do it. Gregory Wyndham has made an appointment for three and this is the only week he will be in the states. Do you understand?"

Although it was not stated, I could hear the implied threat between the lines. Don't you dare ruin this opportunity for me, is what it roughly translated to and I didn't want to even know what promise of punishment followed.

With a smile as false as a politician, I swallowed my disappointment and replied "Of course. I am sure one of them can do it."

His satisfied grunt caused my throat to reflexively clench, and for a moment I forgot to breathe. "Don't expect me tonight." With that short of piece of information, he ended the call just as his secretary in the background announced Gregory Wyndham's arrival.

It was until I heard complete silence did I resume to breathe, and only when I felt the familiar expanding of my chest, I allowed my tense frame to relax. But my heart refused to cease its angry palpations. In hopes it would help my uneasy heart rate, I began to pack away my belongings, which although were small in quantity seemed to find a place everywhere in the small room. I purposely avoid the dying lilies on the window seal for at every glance at them I became closer and closer to the edge, and if I wasn't careful I was going to fall.

X-x-X

For the young boy, it was another night of restless unattainable sleep. When he felt the familiar urge and muscle tugging, he untangled himself from his younger brother (Which was no easy task. His brother was like a leech when he slept; he gravitated toward any warm object and clung to that said object with such a deathly grip it sometimes left bruises.)

After he was certain he had not disturbed his brother's sleep, he went to the bathroom considerably relieved after he completed the ordinary task. As he was passing his parent's bedroom, he heard the familiar hushed drawl of his father's voice speak the whispered words "What's wrong?"

The boy was aware of the fact that his mother wasn't here, she was currently in New York City for another runway show. And despite the fact she was practically glued to her cell phone, not once had he seen his mother call his father.

"Did he hurt you?" Although his father's tone had not gained volume, there was a note of panic that was foreign to him. He had never heard his father's voice reach that level of panic yet whoever was on the phone had already brought him to that state in the short time between two responses.

"Where are you?" was the boy's only warning as the door was swung open. His father did not even look to see if anyone was in the halls, he just rushed down the padded hallway. The boy, only after his father was gone, followed the hurried man until they reached the main foyer where he chose to stay in the shadowed safety of the corner.

His father wasted no time rushing to the door; forcing the carved wood open with so much force the doorknob nearly entered the wall. The torrent waves of pouring rain created a drifting breeze, which began to soak the front door's rug, yet it was not the ruin of his carpet that his father was worried about but rather the woman who was standing outside it.

The boy had never met anyone as beautifully angelic as the woman on the doorstep. Her silver leafed hair tresses glowed like his mother's diamond earrings under the soft porch light, brilliant sapphire irises so haunting his lungs ceased to work. Soft porcelain skin shimmered with rain drops, soaking his father's shirt as his father pulled her into his embrace.

There she shuddered, a shiver so fierce her entire frame shook from its intensity, rivulets of crystal tears marring her flawless flushed cheeks. She snuggled her reddened nose into the crease of his father's shoulder and neck, her quiet shaken sobs the only source of noise in the spacious foyer.

"Help me."

X-x-X

Who would have guessed that when all your friends were handpicked by your father that they wouldn't do something for you unless it benefitted themselves?

I had called nearly everyone in my contact list (which approached somewhere from twenty to thirty people) and was down to my last person, Jordan. And albeit she was the best out of the group, the girl was constantly busy with her school, her job and her wild dating life. As a result, I expected the answer to be in the negative.

Like I had predicted, she was busy. (She had a date with a famous freshman college football player who was rumored to be the next Tom Brady) Unlike the others, she kindly offered to cancel her date, but I immediately shot down the idea. One lesson I learned very well is you do not get in the way of any money making deal, no matter how desperate you are.

However, I refused to stay any longer in this hospital room and I was running out of options. Calling a cab was out of the question. After the many taxi rape scandals, I was paranoid by that method of public transportation and my father would have a conniption if I took the subway. So I called the last person I wanted to talk to: Seto Kaiba.

Really what was I thinking? Contacting the very person that was bringing to the brink of insanity did not sound like a good idea, both in theory and in practice. Yet before I could convince myself of the high risks this action would bring, I was already at the nurses' station asking for a phone book.

Everything in me hesitated. When I was typing his office's number in my phone, I felt every muscle tense at every number. By the time, I had pressed send and the phone began its regular ringing, a full minute had passed in which I tried to force myself to consider the stupidity of the idea.

However, I knew that this was mine last chance to get out of this white washed hell where the only things to do was study and reminisce in memories and feelings that I didn't want to. Yet I couldn't help but feel like a drug addict who was trying to cure his withdrawals by using the drug that brought him to this despairing state in the first place.

When I heard the inevitable click, which indicated the call had been accepted, I was expecting his secretary despite the fact it was Saturday.

"Hello"

Mr. Kaiba's smooth baritone slipped through phone receiver so huskily I felt my heart clench in the tell tale sign of attraction as a warm tremor slid down my spine. His voice caused my vocal cords to malfunction. The usual greeting clung to my tongue, my lips knew the formation in which to express the word but even with pressure my vocal cords refused to vibrate in order to express it.

From the other side, an annoyed huff reached the receiver indicating that the Mr. Kaiba's short patience was running out and he was going to hang up soon.

At the end of the day, it was the imminent ending of my opportunity to escape from this place that propelled the words.

"Mr. Kaiba" Even I cringed at the intense volume of the two words and quickly dismissed the curious stares from the nurses with a hardened glare.

"Kisara" I never had heard my name spoken so softly, as beautifully as the syllables rolled of his tongue with questioning curiosity. My heart pounded viciously against my rib cage at the melodic notes that formed his deep low voice and for a moment, just a brief moment, I wished my name had the same effect on him.

"I wanted to thank you. I really enjoyed meeting your brother."

From the other end of the receiver ,I heard a quiet snort accompanied by the swift typing of a few keys on the keyboard. "The feeling was mutual."

There was another pause, another typing of keys and shuffling papers. Sometimes, Mr. Kaiba resembled my father that way, always surrounded by a monotonous silence, always immersed in solitude. It had to be incredibly lonely experiencing that day after day.

"And speaking of that little devil, he wants to see you again."

Although the statement was clearly a simple statement between the lines I could read the unspoken question. He wanted to know if I was willing to meet his baby brother again; curious to see if I was once more willing to straddle that danger zone we breeched from Mokuba's last surprise visit. If I didn't know any better, I would have said Mr. Kaiba was nervous.

"I'm free this afternoon." I don't know where the confidence in my voice originated from, but it was strong enough to even completely silence the almost inaudible paper and typing that continued through the conversation.

"We'll be there by three." Amusement twisted one of the corners of my mouth upward. Our conversation was starting to sound more like a business deal rather than a friendly rendezvous.

"I'll be here."

From the other line I heard the abrupt short mechanical beep notifying me Mr. Kaiba had ended communications on his side.

For a minute, I sat curled around my legs staring at the blank wall before me.

What was I thinking? What good could possibly occur from me seeing him when for the past few days I wanted to do nothing more but erase him from mind?

As I closed my eyes, I saw the imprint of icy blue irises; the familiar icy heat began crawling down my spine that had me trembling so intensely the bed began to move. And for the first time in years I prayed to God.

Author's Notes:

So I noticed that it has been two years since I first started this story. I want to apologize for that. This story could have easily taken one year to do and I am guessing that is why so many of my readers are little unhappy with me. I promise I will try to update more often. Good news is I have already written the story to the half way point.

For those reviewers who have stayed with me from their first introduction to this fan fic I want to thank you. You have been the greatest support and your reviews all are confidence boosters. You have been such a vital part of keeping this story alive to this point and I am so happy that I have so many people who honestly love my writing this much. This chapter is dedicated to you guys.