Seto set his sweating drink beside him on the concrete step and crossed his arms. "I've never heard you say that about anyone," he said.

"Sorry," said Yuugi. "I shouldn't complain..." He brushed an ant off his vibrant orange swim trunks.

"'Say what you're thinking,'" Seto said, drawing air quotes. "What I'm thinking is, 'Yuugi should practice what he preaches more often.'" AKA, no need to apologize. But whenever Seto tried to say what he was thinking, he had a hard time in translation.

Yuugi orphaned his own drink and huffed a humorless laugh, resting his chin in his hands. "You're right about that."

Below them, their (yes, their) friends stood around a raging charcoal grill, flipping burgers and fishing drinks from the abundance of coolers in the driveway. Behind them, more of their (yes, their) friends made a commotion in the pool. You were everyone's friend if you had a pool. Mokuba's friend, for sure. The kid (YES, KID, NOT EIGHTEEN FOR ANOTHER THIRTY-ONE DAYS) who had an Olympic-sized pool on the ground floor of his manor house.

Yuugi's brooding silence was out of character. This was a party, and Yuugi loved parties, or at least did well at them. Normally at these things, Yuugi would find Seto, work hard to include him, and then flit off to include someone else. Today it felt like Seto might have to do the including. He grimaced at the thought.

It wasn't just any old party, either. It was Yuugi's own god-forsaken birthday party! He oughta be having fun, doing whatever he wanted to do! Seto told him as much.

...Well, what he said was more like, "You're wasting your time sitting over here with me."

Yuugi scoffed, though it was half-hearted and distracted. "Isn't it up to me how I spend my time?" he said. His eyes roamed the driveway and the gravel-strewn street beyond. "...What if he shows up here?"

"Does he even know where you live now?"

"I don't think so."

"He won't show up."

Yuugi hung his head, groaning, almost growling at the sidewalk. "My mom might give him the address," he said, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

"Yuugi." Seto's voice gained an edge of its own. "He's not gonna show up at your crummy apartment. Is he that bad? Do you need my security detail while he's in town?"

Yuugi slowly shook his head. "No...no, he's not that bad."

"You're acting like he's a menace or something." Like he's Gozaburo. Back from the dead...

"No," said Yuugi again. "It's just one dinner. He just wants to catch up. I guess."

Seto waited for elaboration on such a scathing 'guess.'

"It's just—" Yuugi rubbed the back of his sunburnt neck, his head still lowered, sifting his hardened thoughts for the best explanation he could offer. "I just...

"I see so much of him in myself. Things I really hate about myself. Like running away from things that are too hard or too scary. Like pretending things are a certain way, when they aren't. I dunno. Even the way I laugh is like...his laugh. Exactly.

"It's stuff I wish I didn't do, stuff I try every day to be better than, but…" Yuugi's fingers tightened around the clump of hair at the base of his skull. "But no matter what I do, deep down, I know that's always how I'll be. And I hate that. That's all he left me with...you know?"

Yuugi hissed, quietly, darkly, "Coward."

He looked sideways at Seto then, anxious over how nasty he'd sounded, and recovered a tone of civility. "I don't think of him that often, but when I see him, I just resent him," he said. "I wish I didn't."

Seto met his gaze. This time he said what he meant with decent success. "He must deserve the resentment, if it's coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I thought I was living proof you don't resent anyone," Seto said.

A tiny but genuine smile broke through at that. "Maybe I've used up all my resentful energy on my dad," Yuugi said.

Seto shrugged. Was that how it worked? "When's the dinner?" he asked.

"This Friday."

"You can handle it."

"Thanks, Seto." Yuugi let his smile fade gently.

It was hot. Seto picked up his drink, too late—a battalion of ants had already invaded. He glanced at Yuugi's forgotten can. Likewise captured.

He snatched up both cans and rose to his feet. "Want another drink?"

Yuugi stood with him. "Yeah, but I need to talk to people. I'll get it."

Seto smirked. "That's more like it."

They stalked down the concrete steps in unison, molding their faces into what their friends expected—folding up their conversation and tucking it safely away.

SETO [8:47 PM]: How did it go?

Seto had thought about Yuugi's dinner since the party and even more often the day of, and he'd struggled to wait for an appropriate hour to send a text. Yuugi didn't open his message right away, but Seto had brought enough work home to distract himself for a while. Still, three hours of nothing went by.

Seto had begrudgingly been learning the skill of tracing his anger down to its source. To try and understand it better. Tonight, he traced his current impulse—to chuck his phone over the balcony and straight into the pond—down to feeling...insecure.

Was it any of his business how Yuugi's dinner with his dad went? No. Yuugi hadn't responded because he didn't consider Seto a close enough friend. Because why would he? Because who would possibly want to be stuck as one of Seto's close friends, let alone a friend?

But no...he was being unfair. Seto knew that wasn't true. Yuugi had sought Seto out a thousand times, had waited and waited for him to come around, and had forgiven him for things Seto would never forgive himself for.

It was just stressful for Yuugi, that was all. Seto couldn't blame Yuugi for not wanting to talk about it. After all, the smallest detail about Seto's own family had to be dragged out of him.

Seto crossed his arms and leaned over the balcony, inhaling the damp night air, remembering the things Yuugi'd said with such vitriol, such disgust, on the concrete step: My dad's in town. He wants to meet me...I'm really dreading it...I can't stand him...I see so much of him in myself.

Seto understood that bitterness better than most. But part of him—a part that only peered timidly around a deep corner of his heart on nights like this, when he was quite alone and lost in thought—part of him wondered if there was any part of another father to be found in himself. A father he hadn't thought of in ages.

He exhaled, closed his eyes, and let the white noise of the crickets and cicadas lead his thoughts...

After school, walking two miles to the industrial ward, to the sagging row of once-white warehouses by the river, dodging rumbling trucks and harsh equipment, rusty pipes and swinging cranes, men with haggard looks and scuffed hard hats

to the trailer at the water's edge, the breakroom, the clock-in and -out room, where men of every shape and size had at least one thing, no, two things in common—hardened biceps and grimy faces

who drank coffee from paper cups and talked about sports, baseball or American football, laughing and shoving one another

and Seto prayed they wouldn't notice him as he scanned their faces, looking for the only face he knew among them

and always, without fail, Seto found his father in the same place—leaning against the back door frame, standing apart from the others

crossing his arms over his grease-stained uniform

aloof and alone

until his hooded eyes met Seto's, and whether he'd been listening to the others or not, he muttered a clipped 'see you,' ducked his head, and ushered Seto out the door.

Seto looked down at his crossed arms.

Was that all? Was it enough? ...Or too much?

His phone buzzed in chorus with the insects; he slid his arms apart and unlocked the screen.

YUUGI [12:25 AM]: Sorry - had a lot on my mind since I got home. It wasn't bad

YUUGI [12:26 AM]: Are you still up? Could I call you?

See? Wasn't he glad he hadn't thrown it in the pond?

SETO [12:26 AM]: It's no problem. Yes OFC

YUUGI [12:27 AM]: ofc you're up or ofc I can call?

SETO [12:27 AM]: A horse is a horse

YUUGI [12:27 AM]: haha ok

Seto retreated into his bedroom—certain he'd satiated the local mosquito population by now—and raised his vibrating phone to his ear. In his other hand—idly, not himself aware of it—he twirled a golden puzzle piece between his fingers.

Thanks, Yuugi.

PIECE #4: FATHER

Doctor's Note: I often wonder what habits I have that my past family members had. I love collecting habits and turns of phrase from the people I love, and making them part of myself.

Thank you for reading! - Dr. MP