by Lethe
Chapter Sixteen: Holding
"What?! You're kidding!"
"Nope. I heard it from my friend Yukino, and she was actually there. Man, I wish I could have seen it!"
"Y…yeah. Right. Hey, I gotta go. See you."
"Bye, Jonouchi!"
Kaiba was crying? Why?
I have to go to him!
He must have been hurt, if he actually showed emotion. I have to help him.
I weave through the crowd and find my locker. I grab my backpack and leave the school. No one stops me – they're too busy focusing on their own lives.
Why are people this way? Why do we put so little value in others?
I mean, I know not everyone's like that – Yugi isn't, definitely not – but it sure seems that way sometimes.
I try not to be. I really do. Sometimes I'm kind of afraid, though.
What if I made someone feel the way Kaiba must be feeling? I would be a terrible person if I did.
I used to be a terrible person.
It's true, I know. So if I ever tried to put these thoughts into words – I don't think I could – I'd be called a hypocrite.
Long word, huh?
Well, what matters is, everybody's bad at one point or another. We all screw up. But the important thing is that we learn. We realize what we did wrong, make it right, and move on.
Heh. I sound like Anzu.
Weird.
What was I thinking? …That's right, I'm afraid.
Sometimes, I'm afraid that I'll become that person again, that person who picked on others.
Not very often, though. I pushed that person out of me a long time ago.
While I think, I run.
I'm running all the way to Kaiba's place.
He needs me.
I don't know how I know, but I do. I know that I have to get there; I have to help him face his pain.
Isn't that one of the parts of love?
I'm at the gate. The man recognizes me. He lets me in.
How did he know me? I remember now. Shizuka and I came over for dinner a few weeks ago.
Where is Kaiba's room? I can barely recall. But somehow, I find my way.
I open the door.
When I see Kaiba, I'm surprised. He is crying. The girl was right.
Tears are running down his cheeks, his eyes are rimmed in red, and his hair is actually untidy. Not like him at all.
That moment is when I realize something: Even if Seto is a multimillionaire businessman, he's a teenager first. He's breakable.
"God, Seto, what happened to you?" I whisper.
He tries to speak, but can't. He shakes his head.
I walk forward and sit on the bed beside him. I reach into my pocket and pull out a tissue. I hand it to him.
Seto brushes away tears with it, but still more come.
I wrap my arms around him gently. "It's all right," I say. "It's all right." I feel his tears on my shirt.
I am crying as well.
And we sit here, the two of us, neither saying a word.