Summary: Why am I doomed to suffer? I have been loyal. I have not strayed from the path.
Working the shop was not enough when it was empty.
All of Yami's usual activities - his newspapers, his poetry, his Sudoku puzzles - seemed useless. Since his talk with Ryou a few days prior he hadn't been able to ponder anything but his fears and anxieties. Yuugi was there but they avoided each other. The two of them weren't speaking. Not that Yuugi hadn't tried.
When Yami came home from grocery shopping, he was there. "Are you busy?" Yuugi asked, and Yami told him 'yes' before retreating to Mokuba's.
This day was the first that they had been in the same room since. It wasn't that Yami didn't want to talk at all; he had resolved to speak with Mokuba first, especially after what had just happened between them. There was no denying it: he had been a broken man the night before. Yami had bled raw feeling, dumped his fragments into Mokuba's lap and left them there. Worse still, Mokuba had seen him bare and defenseless. A simple 'thanks' wouldn't be enough to cover everything that had been done, the holding and consoling and enduring. Without asking, Mokuba had made the pain tolerable for just a little longer.
A sharp bell cut into the silence of the shop, and Yami beamed. A trained reaction. Two boys, one tall and one short, and a small girl entered. They were all dressed in school uniforms, and Yami spot checked his watch for the time. Usually the store was packed after school hours on weekdays, but it seemed that there would be an hour or so before the rush.
"Welcome!" Yuugi greeted them.
The tallest of them, obviously a high schooler, spoke quickly. "Is this the Kame Game Shop?"
Yami, stationed at the register, inclined his head. "Indeed it is. What can I help you find?"
Of the three of the visitors, the youngest one answered. A girl with short red hair and brown eyes, she declared her necessity for the newest Duel Monsters Box Set before asking about the current Quarter's rares. The two boys made it clear that they were just browsing.
"She's the duelist in the family," the younger boy said. "And really good."
"Very impressive," Yami told them. "I know someone who started dueling at a very young age. She made it to Internationals." At the door, Yuugi frowned, looking away.
Rebecca was a point of contention between them. She and Yuugi seemed to have a functional relationship, at least so far as Yami could tell. The two of them would often hang out upstairs in the living room. Sometimes when returning home he would see them snuggling or talking. He had no trouble greeting her, and in all honesty thought that they made a cute couple. It didn't bother him one bit. But Yuugi seemed to think that it did, and frequently voices would become hushed or they would move to a secluded area. For Yami, the issue was only that things were unresolved between them.
He desperately wanted the two of them to reconcile, and agree to be friends in a way that allowed them both to come to terms with things. Rebecca could be for Yuugi what Mokuba had been to him - there was no price to be put on that sort of independence. But there would be no chance of anything working out with them if they couldn't get past their feelings. Yami was tired of relapsing, of those moments where it would only take one slip of the tongue for them to be on the floor writhing together. Their connection didn't have to be this painful.
The girl glowed as she smiled. "REALLY?" Her eyebrows suddenly crossed, head tilting curiously.
Realizing that he was frowning, Yami rectified his expression immediately. "Really. You just have to keep up the work and believe in your Deck. Here, I'll help you find what you're looking for."
"I practice four hours a day!" she squeaked. "...but that's not enough, is it?"
Adorable. Considering everything that could be done in a day, four hours was a lot of time to dedicate solely to dueling. Of course, when Yami had been a child training with his ba was relentless. He would summon and command until he could no longer stand. It was the only way to cement the trust and faith between spirit and body.
He smiled as he told her, "I think you're doing just fine. Have you been in any tournaments so far?" Reaching beneath the register, he felt around until his hand enclosed around a small box. "Do you want to practice?"
Soft chimes rang a second time, and Yuugi rushed to greet the newcomer. "Welcome - oh. Hey."
It was Mokuba. He was dressed up from head to toe in what Yami knew were his favorite clothes: the alligator boots and those jeans that made his ass look perfect. Yuugi greeted him, being closer to the door, and Yami braced himself by taking a deep breath. The betraying heat of embarrassment threatened to make a show, and Yami made the immediate decision to use her. The girl would make a wonderful distraction. Mokuba was bothering him at work, after all, so he would have to wait. They didn't have to talk.
"I have a question!"
The girl wanted more information about rare cards from recent Booster Packs. It wasn't enough to have the store prices and descriptions, she wanted to know the international price comparisons as well; something that Yami would have to look up on the computer to get the detail for. If Mokuba tried to start a conversation it would be more than enough cause to turn him away.
As he turned to the old desktop by the cash register, he kept an eye on what was happening near the door. He and Yuugi seemed to be waiting patiently, exchanging pleasantries. So Yami got to work. Questions, several rather than one, were fired at him left and right about each card and how effective it could be in a duel. Whoever she was, this young lady was a competitor, and it was encouraging for him to see that there were still players who took the game seriously, no matter how young.
Dueling wasn't something that Yami wanted to keep doing, not professionally. Playing for any sort of stakes was unappealing to him, as simple titles and cash seemed like a waste of dueling potential. It was no longer a game to him. It was a bet, plain and simple. Yami had won every single one he'd ever made, and he couldn't bring himself to desecrate the memories of his fallen comrades and those lost to Zorc's conflict. Things were somehow different for him, with this new body. His mind was intact but somehow different, too.
Rather than try to get his attention, both he and Yuugi retreated outside. Their voices were muffled by the distance and the door. Silhouettes, barely moving, were visible through one of the windows up front.
Yami didn't want anyone to know about what had transpired the night before, least of all Yuugi. He would have scrubbed it from Mokuba's memory if he could. Seeking Yuugi's counsel would not be helpful, and though he didn't want to talk to Mokuba, Yami wanted to stop them from talking. The point of separating himself from Yuugi was to guarantee his independence. As painful as it was, he needed to free himself from the forces that had been tugging at his heartstrings since his conception.
Even as the little lady duelist settled on her purchase, Yami couldn't help but wonder what the two of them were discussing. Vain as it was, he didn't think that they could be talking about much more besides him. And the idea that they were was infuriating. By the time that his customers were leaving, he had decided that he was going to confront them. He had the right to defend his privacy. Just the thought of Yuugi knowing about the previous night's breakdown set his blood to boiling.
Once outside, he was able to read the situation at a glance. Yuugi's hand couldn't hide his tears. It was a reminder of how adept Yuugi had become at manipulating their link. It was easy for Yuugi to deceive him, and yet he was talking with Mokuba. Whatever feelings had been roused by this conversation, Yami wasn't privy to them. When he reached out to Yuugi mentally, he felt nothing. Just a void, as though Yuugi wasn't even there at all. Like he was just another person; the two of them weren't connected at all.
Both of them seemed shocked at the sight of him. It was repulsive, that they couldn't even greet him. He must have been right; they had to have been talking about him. A growl wrenched itself from his throat. Even after several seconds, neither of them elected to say anything to them at all. There were words poised on Yami's tongue, but he decided to swallow them and let the silence linger. His words only had the purpose to hurt - they wouldn't help the situation. If he wasn't going to say anything, Yami told himself, it wouldn't make sense to stay outside. Slowly, and without a single word, he retreated back into the shop.
Yami continued through the store to the back and up the stairs to the flat. If Yuugi had time to chat idly about him, there was time to man the shop as well. Fuck this shift, he told himself - and Yuugi, although the latter couldn't hear his thoughts. He stormed up to the flat, his steps hard and heavy, announcing his foul mood.
His trek was interrupted by the sight of Yuugi's grandfather, lounging casually on the couch in the den. Caught by surprise, Yami tried to control his features, to force himself to relax. None of this had anything to do with this man, who had taken him in and taken care of him. Yami just didn't like making the man worry.
But he wasn't fast enough. Wearing the same smile that Yami had seen a thousand times, Grandpa asked him, "Is something wrong?"
Too late. "No." The answer wasn't believable, but he hoped Sugoroku would have the insight to leave him be.
Trudging through without another word, Yami entered his room and slammed the door as hard as he could. Immediately he turned to lean back on it, forehead pressed against the grainy wood to hold him steady. The anger coiled around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. How could he fight an unstoppable force? He had done enough. It was unfair for the two of them, to dissect him. It wasn't fair that he needed to get a handle on his feelings, or that he had them in the first place. Seeing those tears in the Yuugi's eyes had stirred something in him. Now everything was much harder to address.
Yami had never done anything; things happened to him and he transitioned into each role appropriately. Prime years typically devoted to learning and flourishing had been commandeered for the greater good. Though he was revered for his wisdom, all of the problems he had solved had been fixed from the start. All of his choices had been stripped away, with Yami left to do little other than fill in the needed role.
He was the hero, lifting the sword in a game that only had one ending. It was his destiny to endure, and that sense of duty had held him fast across millennia. That was something that Yuugi had never been able to fully grasp. Fate wasn't a script, it was passivity; being unable to stop sand from seeping through your fingers, to stop the winds from blowing them through. Yami was much too weak to chase and gather the slippery grains in his hands. All he could do was clench and turn against the gusts. It was all that he had ever been able to manage.
This is all Mokuba's fault, he though bitterly.
For the first time in the entirety of his existence, Yami had the opportunity to make a significant decision - a permanent, lasting choice that wouldn't affect anyone else. There were no lives, no souls, and no world's future hanging in the balance. Just the possibility of him unraveling at the seams. He craved it, that denouement, and he hated himself for it. Having the world pull at his threads until he came apart was a thing that he loved.
"Haven't I given enough?" he whispered to himself. Yami forced his face against the wooden surface as hard as he could, trying to expend his frustrations. "I fucking-" He cut himself off, shut his eyes and prayed to his Gods.
Why am I doomed to suffer? I have been loyal. I have not strayed from the path. He had locked himself away, and even with his memory fragmented persevered. Why is this my reward?
Fists clenched in resentment, he pushed against the door until it creaked against its frame. "Why?" was not a question that often received an answer. It was the least he deserved however, for his deeds and sacrifices. Yami had done all of this and they couldn't even give him satisfaction.
The fist pounded softly on the door to accent his thoughts. He wanted to quell his angst. Some soft part of him clung to the hope that the Gods were at least listening. What if they aren't? Yami asked himself. What if, rather than ignoring him, he was simply no longer a concern? He had served as their tool. The outcome that they had desired had been realized. What reason would they have to heed him any further?
I know you're there. They had shown him their power and he never took it for granted, had never used it for anything aside what they had wanted. Rather than curse them and his uncle for his father's death, he had embraced the Items and their abilities and used them just the way they had wanted.
His new body was a slap to the face, a mockery of the one thing Yami had always desired above all else. Never had a moment gone by that the thought of the Gods and their 'gift' fail set his blood to boiling.
"Listen to me!" He growled at his bedroom door as though the Gods were present - ears pressed against the wood - to his demands. "I don't have anything else to give up!" The silence in reply only fueled him. "...to give you," he added. If he was loud enough, maybe they would turn their attention to him. The taps on the door grew louder, accenting his words like a chant.
More than anything, he wanted them to simply let him be. Yami no longer wanted to be a tool, to have his road mapped out for him. Each day it grew increasingly harder to tell if he was being led down a path. Every time he thought hard about his position, he was driven a little closer to madness. If he kept himself incapacitated and incapable, he thought, perhaps he would be unfit for whatever was in store for him.
"Just leave me the fuck alone," he told the door. "Please leave me," he sobbed. The anger was still there, rising up from underneath, and although Yami's voice shrunk, the pounding grew louder. Each strike released more of that energy until he was abusing the wood. He could feel the heat underneath his fists, and at some point he bellowed, "JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME-" He didn't stop.
Yami's ears rang when he was through, his heartbeat so strong that he could feel it at his fingertips, pulsing. His rage spend, he lowered himself to the ground. Dark, tired crimson eyes darted to his desk, where the Puzzle sat listlessly. No voice deigned to reply, and no glow enveloped the room. Yami was alone.
He just wanted to forget. In bed, overwhelming his senses, that was what he sought. It was hard to overthink anything while in the throes of passion. Whatever harsh truths his mind dragged up were replaced by warmth, by the timbre of another's voice, the touch of a presence besides his own. Someone else could take ownership of his body besides the Gods, and the other person didn't need to know what was hidden underneath.
None of it had been Mokuba's business to being with. There was no point to Yami dragging anyone else through his problems. It was his own fault that things were this way, with him cracking at the edges and risking exposure. Mokuba had been a loyal companion, impartial and supportive. And when Mokuba couldn't be a good partner, when he was lacking or changing or suffering, he was honest with himself and others. When Yami slipped, Mokuba called him out and demanded better instead of walking away. He didn't accept less than what was expected, and he did his best to return the favor. It was refreshing and new, and Yami had felt secure enough to trust him.
Mokuba did not deserve the burden of his trust.
Lying on the ground, Yami fought back tears. "You're an idiot," he told himself. "You - you gave him your name... your..."
This time, the punching was punishment. Each strike was rough, the friction of the carpet razing his skin. Yami ignored the sting. He'd done something terrible. Now there would be questions about his mood, about his past and about his name - and Yami could not be like the Gods. When a deserving individual asked for information, he gave it freely if he possessed it.
-stupid. Stupid. StupidStupidStuPIDSTUPID-
Yami didn't stop until he could feel the bruises. The pain coursed through him; he took a gulp of air and squirmed uncomfortably.
I can't even torture myself properly.
The door swung open without warning, striking his arms with a hard thock. Exhausted, hands tender and hot with swelling, a hiss escaped Yami's lips. He rolled over onto his side, curling into a ball away from the entrance.
"Yami! Let me in-! What's wrong?"
He sighed in relief - it wasn't Mokuba. If Mokuba had been at the door Yami wouldn't have been able to predict the outcome. Holding himself tighter, he tried to suppress his body's excitement. He was disgusting and pitiful, and running out of space to hold it all in. What kind of person gets off on-
"Gramps said you were-" Yuugi gingerly stepped over Yami's body to kneel in beside him. For a while Yuugi said nothing, and only stared. "-he said he was worried about you."
Yami sighed heavily. He hadn't thought about the noise.
"Tell me," Yuugi demanded. "Talk to me." Sinking down onto the floor beside him, Yuugi inched over until only a breath separated their noses.
Small hands reached out to hold him and he knew that the touch would be soft; that the fingertips would be warm and welcoming. Yuugi would embrace him and he would melt. Yami would sob into his arms. The man that he had once called his other half would cradle him, and inside their hearts would earn another fracture. Yuugi would not be able to console him the way he needed.
"I still love him."
Ryou smiled. "And I, you. But I'm not married to you."
Yami didn't want to end up in bed with Yuugi again, mouth tinged and body aching with regret. Instead he countered with a push. His palms stung as they came into contact with Yuugi's shirt, even if it was just for a moment. "Don't touch me," he sobbed.
Rather than fight him, Yuugi gasped. "Your hands..."
They were red and puffy and raw, but Yami insisted. " 'M fine."
"They're hurt."
The two of them would only go in circles. Underneath the pleas and cries, the fact remained that the one person Yami had thought capable of understanding him could not; furthermore, had decided against it. It made no sense to rely on a person who no longer wanted that pressure.
"Leave me alone," Yami spat. Just being near Yuugi was painful. He wanted to stop thinking, to grab and be grabbed; to be told forcibly to stop thinking. He wanted to be pushed down and hurt until this pain went away. And at this moment it was impossible.
His counterpart refused. "I can't, Yami." Pushing himself away from the ground, Yuugi sat up on his knees. "You know I can't." The small hands seemed to have gathered courage, no longer hesitating; they reached beneath Yami and pulled him upright, too. The touch itself cut like a knife, but not the kind he could relish. There was no pleasure left in its wake. He winced.
Yami's hands throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and once again he staved off tears. "Please," Yami insisted, voice thick with all that had gone unsaid. Was this his punishment for soliciting the Gods? "Leave me alone," he repeated, to them both. Exhaustion moved quickly into the places the rage had been. He couldn't resist Yuugi in the way that he wanted to. He couldn't do anything the way he wanted. No one had ever let him.
"Yami, talk to me. Are you upset about seeing me outside? What's this about?"
Yes, he wanted to say, and no. Yami had lied to the Gods. They already knew. The one thing he'd had left to give was the thing he was trying to come to terms with having lost. It had been gone for a long time. What hurt the most was that he hadn't realized that it had been missing. Maybe they had taken it from him; maybe it had faded away on its own.
Yuugi's voice kept interjecting between his thoughts. "I... I'll go and get you something for your hands. Please, don't move."
This was the decision that he'd been avoiding most of all. But there was no choice. Even Ryou had confirmed it. He had to take the first step himself. Yami knew better than anyone else that the harder he struggled, the more dire his situation would become. The last few years had confirmed it. In a matter of months, he and Yuugi were on unpleasant terms. There would be no resisting change. Yami had to let everything go. It would do him no good to hate Yuugi. After everything that they'd been through together, was it truly unbelievable for either of them to conclude that things were too difficult? Though their shared bond may have been one of Yami's few comforts in this world, he hadn't done much to deserve it.
How long had Yuugi been able to hide his feelings? Not liking the answer did not give him the right to change it himself. Fate, still holding fast to his spirit, had already decided. Yuugi had already made his choice. There was little left for Yami do to but react. He had put this off for too long, trying to balance both. Being close and at a distance simultaneously was not possible.
"...you were right," he said. Yuugi froze in his steps.
Yami felt the tug on 'his' side of the link, as if to mock him for thinking of it. The shock of that mental contact forced a gasp from his lips. It felt like the lazy buzz of nostalgia, a long forgotten dream being revived by something small and unexpected.
He was prying, for the first time in years. Yuugi wanted to know.
But there would be no response. Yami had been nothing but honest with Yuugi. He suffered through every urge, pushed through each difficult conversation trying to explain himself and offer closure. If Yuugi didn't already know then he hadn't been listening. Yami had confided in him, trusted in and loved him. It had not been enough. Time had proven that they were more different than either of them had anticipated. Their views of the world differed as well, and forcing themselves together would only bring them misery. Yami could not continue to pour himself in, if Yuugi would only pull away. So it made no sense to continue, feelings be damned. Their unraveling had started the moment that Yuugi had admitted to hiding his feelings. Their honesty was no longer mutual.
Yami found himself wishing that he could retreat into the Millennium Puzzle. It was devoid of power, but Yami still knew the inner workings at those chambers. He could still see it. The patterns of golden bricks, staircases and doors were etched into his spirit. Each path led somewhere different: some in a few misleading circles, a few to dead ends; others to deadly traps. Yami knew each path by heart, had laid each brick and every corridor with a cluster of thoughts. He knew where to go when he wanted to be alone, places where Yuugi couldn't find him. It had all been there to protect him, the Puzzle's way of preserving him until he could fulfill his duty. Now that it was gone, Yami would have to protect himself; but he could still remember.
Were he inside the Puzzle, there would have been one door hidden away from the others. Small, wooden, insignificant; scuffed and marred by the wear and tear of too long an existence, it was the oldest existing location in the Puzzle itself. It had never been sought after, never viewed as valuable. Yet no other soul could touch it without being devoured.
Yami drew up what little courage he had left, picturing the door as he looked up at his counterpart. "We've been in separate bodies for years now. We should have our own paths, as well." He had gone too long without tending to himself. It wasn't something he'd ever had to do. When considered what he had done, and where he was at this moment, Yami wasn't sure if he knew how to take care of himself. Surely if he did, they two of them wouldn't be in this situation. He would be better and his feelings would be under control, insecurities adjusted to or resolved.
Yuugi's mouth hung slightly agape, eyes wide after hearing the declaration. "Yami... you're scaring me." Even without the link between them, he seemed to sense where things were heading. For the first time in years, Yuugi looked terrified.
It all seemed so simple, in that moment. Yami's choice became clear. The pain in his hands hardly mattered. He was being forced to face his demons, to tie up his loose ends, to learn to do deal with himself correctly. This life was different than the last; he would make it different. Being numb wouldn't stop things from happening.
"All we ever do is hurt each other," he said. "Is that really something that you want to be a part of?"
Bristling, Yuugi hurried out of the room without a single word in response. In the first few seconds of loneliness Yami sobbed, a ball of anxiety and raw emotion. He tried to sit still but couldn't.
None of the pieces of his life fit together. The strings attached to those pieces continued to tug at him, even the frail and delicate ones. They were wires, sharp enough to cut deep and quickly and without mercy. Closing his eyes, he wished that it everything would simply melt away. He longed for the sweet, warm embrace of his Puzzle.
So absorbed in his thoughts, Yami was startled when Yuugi returned, carrying a small pack of ice and some bandages. There were tears in both their eyes as he approached the bed. He took Yami's hands and pressing the ice between them. He sighed, deeply, took a heavy breath and said,
"Yes."
Yami could only shake his head. "Thank you, and I'm sorry." For everything that has happened to you.
In the end, he couldn't force himself to say it. Fists aching and at a loss for more words, breath and energy alike, Yami felt the calm of exhaustion overwhelm him. The tantrum was over and that apology was the best that he could do. Nothing seemed to go the way he wanted. This was why he had avoided dealing with these issues in the first place. Everything had gone so wrong.
Yuugi seemed at a loss for words. And Yami found he was suddenly unsure of if he should close that door shut in Yuugi's face.
Edited 2/23/16 – Just realized that we passed chapter 50! Wow. That's pretty awesome. The prompt table is almost complete, and is this story. I've written like a million things about how Yami deals with things outside of Stay Cool, so I'm excited about being able to eventually post some of that stuff and put it in correct order.
I don't think that there's a lot more to say about this other than I like to make things complicated. I've been hinting at and building the dilemma(s) faced here for a while, and I'm glad that a lot of them are stated a bit more plainly here. I think it's interesting to explore a slightly more complex post-canon, so between this chapter and the prequel fic "Pay The Price" (if you've read it already, I'd give it another peruse after you finish this), it sums up the bulk of feelings Yami has about his 'second life'.
This is prompt #49.
