Giving In

Seto felt a cold breeze against his face. He stared down at the gravestone in front of him; it was Jou's. His Jou's. He felt a wave of depression wash over him, like many time before. It was truly too bad it wasn't mutual. The bastard knew he loved him. The fucking bastard knew!

He recalled something that Jou had said to him, the night he died. He had taken four morphine pills that day, so Seto had known he wasn't going to be in his correct state of mind for a while. He would have objected to him taking four, but Jou's body had built up so much tolerance it didn't really metter what he did anymore.

Jou had stared up at him from the floor; his eyes were glazed over but he still stared. For over three months, It was his usual position. Jou would lie on the ground, and stare at Seto, whether he was "incapacitated" or just sleepy. But he would always stare. Seto never could take his uncaring gaze for too long, and like always, he turned his head.

Seto heard a soft whisper come from Jou. "I'm sorry I don't love you, Seto."

Kaiba's eyes widened, but he didn't look. He couldn't. "I know you love me, Seto ..." Jou paused trying to think. After a moment he said, "Do you remember when you told me we were alike?" He paused once more, "That's the reason, Seto. I can't love you, because I can't love myself."

Seto finally looked over to him. Jou sat up, reached to his mouth, and brought out the four small pills Seto thought he had taken. Jou had never swallowed the morphine. He walked over to Seto and grabbed for his hand, placing them into it and closed it for him. He stared for a moment, as if to say, 'You need these more than I do' and walked away from Seto, heading upstairs.

Seto could remember watching after him, but also almost immediately putting the pills in his mouth and swallowing. He knew his body hadn't been used to the pills, and hoped that when he finally passed out, he wouldn't wake up.

But he did wake up. And Jou had killed himself. He could remember walking back upstairs, legs sluggish. He opened his bedroom door and walked over to a seemingly sleeping Jou. When he reached the bed Jou was laying motionless upon, he could see Jou had grown extremely pale. Paler than he normally was … and the sheets were soaked in red. He then noticed the position Jou was in: his lower arms were tucked tightly against his sides. Seto slowly reached for his closest arm, and lifted to see the underside. One slash on his wrist, two long slashes down his arm, and another horizontal slash near his elbow.

Seto bit back a gasp. No! Jou couldn't have done this to himself. His hand reached slowly up to his neck. He knew deep down he wasn't going to find a pulse, but he had to check. He had to check, just in case ...

He pressed two fingers heavily onto Jou's neck and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When the truth finally hit him, Seto swung his hand back full-force, flinging him down upon the floor. He sat and stared wide-eyed at the carpet. He started to hyperventilate.

No ... no no no ... This couldn't be happening. This didn't happen.

He looked back up to the still, pale body, then got on all fours and crawled to the bed and stared again before backing away on his knees. Seto leaned forward, gripping his stomach. His head drooped, and he could feel tears prick at the side of his eyes.

He opened his eyes widely and felt fresh tears fall down his cheeks. His throat burned and he tried to exhale, only for it to come out as a sob.

And for the first time in years, Seto allowed himself to cry.

Through his tears, 'That bastard, bastard … "… Bastard ..."

Suddenly a shocked gasp came from behind him, knocking Seto from his memory. Seto turned to look at the soft face of Yugi Motou.

"Why ... why would you say that, Seto? Can't you leave Jou alone yet? Even in his death, you torment him!"

Seto just stared at Yugi; he knew the boy would say something like that. Yugi frowned and walked away into the waiting arms of Yami. He didn't know what had been going on within the past three months. Yugi, as with the rest of Jou's friends, thought Jou lived with his mother, and was attacked.

That was the lie that he told them. The lie they soaked up liked sponges. Seto knew that Jou wouldn't have wanted them to know what he went through. He wouldn't want to be remembered like that. So they never knew, and they would never know the truth behind Jou's death. Only Seto. Only Seto would be plagued by the memory. Only he knew the pain and suffering and the absolute shit he went through.

Only Seto knew, and it was killing him.

He turned back around to look at the grave … and he smirked. He and Jou truly were alike.

Because he didn't care.

-_-_-

JI: The End! Author note will be out soon! ^_^