©DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN YU-GI-OH! IT IS OWNED BY KAZUKI TAKAHASHI! I AM IN NO WAY MAKING ANY PROFIT OFF OF THIS! THIS IS FAN-MADE! ENJOY!

SUMMARY: Kaiba and Jounouchi have never gotten along since day one; but everything turns upside-down as their relationship is changed forever. Secrets are revealed and new interests are unfolded. Sometimes all it takes is a little push to make someone finally snap. And that's something that Jounouchi needed; a little push. Rated T for Language and Violence.

.*.*.

PROLOGUE:

"Dad please! Why won't you listen to me?"

"Are you fucking serious?! I don't have time to deal with a brat like you!"

"I'm not a brat!"

"Yes you are! God, now I realize why your mother left you behind!"

"Dad please…please don't say that…"

"Why?! Because the truth hurts?"

"Stop it! Stop talking!"

"What did you say to me?! Why the nerve of you, you little brat!"

"No please, I'm sorry!"

"Oh no, you're not getting off easy this time! That's the last time I'll have you disrespect me!"

"P-Please…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"Stop your crying boy! How do you expect to be a man if your always on your knees weeping! Take it like a man!"

"Dad please, I'm begging you…stop…just listen to me…"

"Why would I do that? You're not worth the trouble of even doing it."

"D-Don't say-"

"Be QUIET!"

"But Dad-"

"Are you deaf? Can't you listen? God, that mouth of yours is nothing but trouble!"

"Dad…Dad I-"

I shot up like a bullet in bed gasping for air. My heart's racing and I feel like someone just dumped a bucket of cold water of me once I realize my body's slick with sweat. I'm trembling like crazy as I just stare at the door of my room.

"Are you deaf? Can't you listen? God, that mouth of yours is nothing but trouble!"

I can still hear his voice, loud and clear, as it echoed in my head. It was then that I realize I'm crying as I feel the warm tears run down my cheeks. Vivid flashes of the dream are burned into my skull. His booming voice and his angry, crimson-brown eyes. His face seemed to always be twisted into nothing but anger when he saw me. It made me shrink back…it made me…scared. I wiped away my tears quickly, as I tried to gain back control of my body. Easier said than done. I just couldn't get the dream out of my head.

"Dad please, I'm begging you…stop…just listen to me…"

"Why would I do that? You're not worth the trouble of even doing it."

I shiver as I hear my own voice crack as his insults finally started to get to me. I shut my eyes tightly as I hold my head trying to will the memories away. But alas, I'm only left restless as I growl irritated. I fling the covers from my form as I get out of bed and stalk around my room; I can't sleep. Not after that.

Several moments later, before I can continue to let my irritation silently boil-

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

-my alarm goes off. God, what time is it? I whip around, still hyped up a bit from the adrenaline rush, and dart over to my night stand. I hit the sleep button and stare at the blinking red numbers that flash across the screen;

5:00 AM

Five AM? I was woken up near five o' clock in the morning? When did I even set my alarm clock? Yesterday seems like nothing but a big blur right now….I sigh as I scrub my face against my hands. I might as well get ready for school. Sighing once more, I haul my tired body to my bedroom door, where I quietly open it. She's sleeping and I don't want to trouble her. She needs her rest. So as quietly as I can, I creep through the dimly lit halls of our apartment that are illuminated by the early morning glow of the sun trying to peek its way through our curtain-covered windows.

I stay close to the wall though, not quite feeling too secure and calm at the moment, and soon I feel the familiar cool surface of the wooden bathroom door. I let out a tiny sigh as I grab the knob, opening the door and entering quickly before locking the door behind me. I lean against it, and once again my body's shaking. Shaking like crazy. My pulse is pumping through my skin and my heart's racing a bit. I lift my hand up to my face and watch as it trembled for a few moments before it finally died down and I let it fall back down to my side.

Everyday…

I have to endure this everyday…

The shakes, the racing pulse, the sweating, the nightmares…

Only I don't think they're just nightmares anymore.

I walk over to the sink and turn on the faucet, quickly setting the temperature to Luke-warm. I needed a wake-up call anyway.

I mean it's hard to explain but…they don't feel like just a nightmare, ya know? I started getting them two months ago; they'd come every other week or when I was stressed. But soon after, they began to come every other day, and soon every other day turned into every single day. They're all too real; the fear, the pain, the sadness, the anger-you don't just feel those types of emotions that often when dreaming, or at least not that intense. It's like I really…really went through all that…It's like….

I lift my head up as I break my gaze from staring at the rushing water going down the drain, and instead, look at the person staring right back at me through the world of glass.

My reflection.

I just stare at it. I don't know why but it's like I've finally seen myself for the first time in a long while…

My usually sun-kissed tanned skin is now paler, almost like the color of that really cheap and crappy loose-leaf that you get at the dealers store or something. But it's still not white, ya get it? I guess not, I don't really expect ya too anyway. My eyes burn from the brightness of the light and the pupils are so constricted as they try to let themselves adjust. But even so, I stare at my eyes…man, I've got some weird eyes…

Ever since I was little I've had people comment on my eyes.

"Oh you have such pretty eyes!"

"I never realized just how brown your eyes are!"

"Your eyes remind me of amber when the sun reflect off of them."

"Nah, I'd say your eyes are more of a golden brown—like honey."

"You've got this glint of red in them sometimes and they look sort of reddish-brownish."

Well shit. All of them are right.

When I was little, as far as I knew, my eyes were brown. Like mocha brown. But then as I started to get older and stuff, they sort of, change a bit ya know? Like they got lighter, and were kind of honey-colored. People would say it's because I'm a happy person but I thought otherwise. They said when my mood changed, my eye color did too. Well sort of.

Look at it like this; when I was excited, people said they were like hazel or whatever. Others would say when I got mad or something, my eyes would have this "darken" look in them and would be sort of reddish-brownish. Puh-lease.

But now, as I look in the mirror, I can see exactly what they were saying. I mean, I do look kind of pissed right now but that's not the point; point is that my eyes did change color. Sort of.

I look at them right now and I see brown eyes tinted red. Like a crimson-brown color. Like rust but a little brighter. I think it's genetics or something like that, 'cause my dad has an eye color similar to this while my mom had a dull greenish-brownish color, but it's a nice color for me. 'Specially with this mess of a blonde mop on my head. I've been a bit lazy—meaning I haven't had the time—and hadn't gotten a haircut last month. I hadn't noticed it before, but it had gotten much longer and wilder, now reaching a bit past my shoulders. But maybe it just looks wilder because of bed-head?…

I let out a yawn and quickly lift my hand to cover it, out of habit. As a result of the large intake of air, my spine cracks quietly but still loud enough to hear it, making me wince at the sound. I stared back into the mirror.

Is this what people see? Is this really how I look to people?

"Jounouchi!"

I jump as my pulse speeds up, but I don't make a sound. Here it comes; the damn dreams. I tremble as I hear his voice steadily grow louder.

"You better not have fallen asleep in there boy!"

I swallow the lump that formed in my throat as I hear my own voice speak.

"N-No dad-! I'm just getting ready for school!"

My voice sounds hoarse and shaky but I'm sure he heard it, because I hear his heavy footsteps retreat from the door and grows quiet until they are far enough that I can't hear them anymore. I realize that I've got the rim of the sink in a death grip and my breathing's gone thick. I blink a few times as I try to come to grip with my senses. I wait until my trembling lessons that I finally let go of the sink. I sigh.

Everyday…