Painted Sky
Short chapter ahead… I didn't think it would be short, but it just ended up this way. My brain has totally been on the fritz due to playing wayyyyy too many video games for long periods of time, and then I decided to cut out a scene in this chapter (useless outline I say… *hisses*). ^^;; But I hope you enjoy anyway… ;p
So anyway, this chapter takes place on Monday (or something like that… there's some bouncing back and forth with the international date line, so it's probably more like this chapter takes place on Monday in Los Angeles but Tuesday in Domino. ^~), and it's the chapter that I've looked forward to writing since I made the outline for this story (not that it has helped when it comes to writing it….)! XD And yeah… the title of this chapter does have some relevance to the chapter itself… *innocent grin*.
And because my brain is non-functioning at the moment due to studying four chapters of physics in the early morning, I will show my great lack of creativity now! Thanks to rayemars-san for beta-reading and the readers! I'll be here all week! (Well, not really….)
MarmaladeGirl ~ Yes, dying is generally considered not to be very fun… well, I think it is? ^.^ I don't think it's fun at least. That's why I can't watch violent stuff. Except lately I only watch murder shows… Law & Order and Monk. And Detective Conan because my mom doesn't like watching Yu-gi-oh during commercial breaks. ;p
Tuulikki ~ Wah, I'm lucky that you review all my chapters. *hearts* Heehee, that would be an interesting story… *cackle* You know, I've been suffering from the oddest case of writer's block and seeing that little storyline is perking my inter… *gets cut off by more unidentified flying objects, although they are oddly cubed shape or similar to pieces of paper that look like those papers people get when they're about to be sued*.
Alana Hikari-Chan ~ What? There are serious chapters here? XD Sorry, sorry… this is actually supposed to be a somewhat humorous story. You don't want to see my serious stories… *shivers and whimpers*. They scare even me! Mostly because they refuse to be written and try to bite my fingers off when I attempt to type them up, but… yes! They're scary! As for Freud, look up his psychosexual stage theory. It's disturbing.
Bronze Eagle ~ "Finding Nemo" was a good movie though (and I'm not saying that just because we bought it for $13.99!!)! ;p I love the seagulls part… Mine? Mine? Mine? Mine? *giggles* Wow, I didn't know there was a fourth Myst game. I thought it was still at two… oO;; Now we all know how intelligent PM is! XD Yuugi-hair… *shiver* verrrrry scary.
Cleoaka insaner than Marik one ~ Oh yes, review! You see, I have a bet with a friend that nobody will review this story so for every review I get, I get a dollar! XD Just kidding! Thanks for the article! Sorry my reply was totally incoherent…. It's my belief that APs can do that to a person… *hisses*.
Lady Shriannan Santrea ~ Seto? Resolve something? *stares at Seto* Have you been feverish again? *Seto throws a pen at PM, nearly hitting her in the eyeball except it glanced off her glasses* P Sorry, sorry… brain is gone. So many excuses I have. But yeah, Honda did jump to conclusions a bit too quickly. It was rather amusing to write that part, actually… I'm glad I did it because the chapter was on the verge of suicide when I came up with that life-saver.
Blackmoonlight ~ ^.^ I'm glad you like the story! Yes, I'm trying to brainwash everyone out of Seto and Jyounouchi coupling *shifty eyes*. I've got one victim so far! *is so proud of self*
Anime Girl Sasami ~ P If this was a movie, Seto wouldn't have to go after his new boy-toy because said boy-toy would be *in* his bed and the two would be- *gets knocked out*. And I don't torment the reviewers! I seem to torment myself more than anyone else… *eyes the man-eating stories that are clicking their teeth at her and whimpers very loudly* I don't like Hanasaki, by the way. He disturbs me… I'm sorry, but any kid who runs around thinking he's a superhero is just… no. And how does he see without his glasses? That was something that always annoyed me. But as for Honda… *coughs and says very quickly* pervertedmonkeyrobot! ^.^ I really, really hope you get your computer back soon… and the holy DVDs! *chorus in the background* ^____^
Rowan and Sakura ~ Oh, gomen… I won't glomp anymore then. ^^;; I'll just send Yuki after you. That's a good plan, right? Anyhow, the character profiles come in a book called "The Gospel of Truth"… it's quite disturbing if you ask me. I found it at the bookstore one day and just picked it up because I had no idea what it was beyond 'character profiles'. I'm sure it's quite interesting if you could read Japanese – which I can't – but it has a lot of information on the birthdays, favorite foods, least favorite foods, etc on certain characters. ^_^ And yes! Tis 2004! ^.~ Hope you've been having a great year so far!
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk ~ No, no, there's going to be no chasing after or anything. Rather… well, you'll see in this chapter anyway! ^_^ And throw popcorn back at your friends! They must not deny the… the… similarities (cough-sameperson!-cough) between Ryuuji and Jack Sparrow! I'm telling you… they're related! Somehow! Or meant for each other. Or related! Or something! XD
~ Biyouseikei (Plastic Surgery) ~
American bartenders were so much meaner than Japanese ones.
This brilliant flash of insight came, unfortunately, from the grand total of two bartenders (three if you wanted to include the poor girl who had been perfectly traumatized by the rather ghastly display of 'affection' he'd had with Seto when the two of them were in their less than correct senses) that Ryuuji had met up to this point, so it wasn't exactly a good indication of anything and certainly not something to draw conclusions from. Unfortunately, Ryuuji was currently piss-ass drunk (again), and his mind was in a less than agreeable mood when it came to being realistic.
Ryuuji had, however, quite a bit to get drunk about. Not that this was an excuse, of course, but one had to be open to the reasons why somebody would ever want to reach this point.
There was, first of all, the plane trip itself. Plane trips were generally not fun for the raven-haired man, even when he was in first class, and he had spent most of the trip getting cooed over by the flight attendants who felt sorry for the poor guy getting airsick. The person next to him had been less than accommodating, and had complained loudly when Ryuuji had nearly thrown up on him, even though it would have been an accident.
Although considering how loudly he had been whining, Ryuuji couldn't be that sure.
So it was reasonable that Ryuuji would be less than pleased by the time he got off the airplane, only to be mobbed by a group of enthusiastic subordinates who reminded him strangely of the fangirls who had trailed him in his first couple weeks at Domino High. Their attempts to express all their problems at the same time only brought back the urge to throw up and made his headache even worse, and it had taken him a great deal of effort to explain to them in broken English that if he didn't lie down on a bed that was on solid ground within the next twenty minutes, they were all going to get fired. For some reason, they had become amazingly cooperative after that vague little threat.
A good night's sleep was all that was necessary for him to recover sufficiently enough to leave the hotel and venture into the great wild more commonly known as Los Angeles… or at least, that's what he would have done if he hadn't discovered a car waiting to whisk him away to the company. He was, unfortunately, recognized when he tried to slip away as an innocent tourist, and found himself sulking in the backseat as he was driven to the headquarters of his American-based section.
Once there, he realized that his cynical remarks about the idiocy of the problems were correct, and he spent the rest of the day trying not to bang his head against the wall. Part of him wished he could jump onto the airplane and hightail it out of there (his stomach immediately rebelled at such thoughts though), and the rest of him wondered why he was submitting himself to this torture in the first place. Had he suddenly grown masochistic?
But then he would remember the kiss, and more importantly, the look of Seto's face. The look of extreme… blankness. The look that drove him insane without fail. And suddenly, he would be glad he was in America… until the next idiot came running up to him, starting the whole process over again.
It was not, in short, a very pleasant way to spend a Saturday.
Sunday, as it turned out, was not any better. Eager to get their CEO's opinion on the most minuscule of details, the men hounded him until he was wondering if he should pull a miraculous escape… like jumping out the window and falling forty stories to his death. That would, at least, solve all his problems – including the baffling predicament with Kaiba Seto. But he couldn't do it because he did somewhat enjoy living, so he instead decided to fully realize the virtues of smiling and nodding without bothering to comprehend what was being said to him.
He probably could have smiled and nodded his way into bankruptcy or declaring nuclear war on the penguins in Antarctica, and he wouldn't have noticed the difference.
So, all in all, it was reasonable that he should have gotten to be in his… drunk state again. A tiny part of his brain had protested slightly when he had started drinking, pointing out what had happened the last time… but he wanted to forget and this seemed to be the best way to accomplish that.
Short-term, at least.
That was how, in conclusion, Ryuuji ended up being quite… friendly with the hotel bartender, who could not understand much of what the other man was saying due to his ability to somehow mix Japanese, English, and a whole lot of incoherency. He was relatively surprised that Ryuuji was there in the first place – when people wanted to get drunk, they usually came at night, not eight in the morning. But the game inventor was an oddball, to say the least, and he liked to do things out of whack.
Still, one look at him after his second drink was more than enough incentive for the bartender to call someone over to take him back to his hotel room… a courtesy that was not often used but seemed oddly necessary for the strange foreigner. The strange rich foreigner, it had to be said, in order to emphasize the fact that nobody wanted to be sued.
Ryuuji, unfortunately, was not as understanding about why he was suddenly being dragged back to his hotel room, and the strangest thoughts were starting to crowd into his already crowded mind. So in a fit of appropriate indignation, he picked up the phone and called the first person he could think of to bitch to.
~ * ~
It was one in the morning, and the phone was ringing.
Now normally, this wouldn't be much of a problem. Although most human beings needed a decent amount of sleep each night in order to function properly the next day, Seto was not one of those people who fell into the category of 'normal'. His policy seemed to revolve largely around late to bed and early to rise… something that caused a great deal of grief for all his servants.
Not that he cared, of course.
Today though… today, he had been snoozing when the phone had started to screech, and so it was reasonable that he should not be very happy about the interruption of his beauty sleep.
So with more than a little chagrin, Seto reached over grumpily and grabbed the phone, clicking it on and growling, "What?" Being called at one in the morning, after all, more or less meant that one could do away with any of the usual pleasantries… and Seto was very determined to be as rude as he possibly could.
"I'm thinking about getting plastic surgery."
Seto blinked.
And blinked.
And blinked again as he tried to process this announcement. And finally, with a voice that could easily be deemed as high-pitched, he asked incredulously, "Ryuuji?"
"Don't you think my nose could use some work?"
Perhaps it was because it was too early in the morning, or the fact that the unexpected announcement was just so… well, unexpected… but something in Seto's mind started to panic instead of searching for something nasty to say, although he had no idea why it would do something as idiotic as that. So he settled for acting in-between the odd and usual reaction by twitching and asking slowly, "Why would you think something like that?"
The little voice in his head was telling him that this was the point he threatened to sue Ryuuji to kingdom come and beyond. This should have been the point when he gave some snappish remark and hung up. This should have been the point where he acted like a total bastard who wanted nothing more to do with this childish, dice-obsessed game inventor – because that was what he was.
Instead, he found himself pushing that little voice aside as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes to get rid of the drowsiness that was happily attacking them.
"Well, don't you think there's something wrong with my nose?" Ryuuji's voice was more than a little odd by this point, and Seto's eyebrow rose.
"Are you drunk?"
"Why would you think something like that?! And you're not answering the question! This could be a matter of life and death, and you're asking me if I'm drunk? Ha! I think you've avoiding the question! Which obviously means that the answer to the question is that I do need work! I don't even know why I'm asking you the question! You obviously don't want to answer the question! Are you scared of – ".
Rather than have to deal with another repetition of 'the question', Seto interrupted the small rant smoothly, "I'm asking because normal people don't usually call others at this time."
"Well excuse me for interrupting your beauty sleep. Since you're the one who likes to get up early, I thought you'd be awake by now." There was a silence as Ryuuji did something… probably check a clock in order to figure out that he was hallucinating again. "It's eight-thirty! Why are you still in bed, you freaky psychopath?"
Seto couldn't help but twitch again, although he wasn't quite sure which was more worrisome – the complete irregularity in time or the childish insult.
Freaky… psychopath?
If he hadn't been a composed billionaire, Seto would have started banging his head systematically against the wall. And if he wasn't such a heartless asshole, he would have started to laugh despite the fact that it was much too early to be doing such things. The conversation was… amusing, to say the least, and perhaps that is why he had yet to hang up the phone.
"It's one in the morning, Ryuuji."
"No it's not. And you're still avoiding the – "
"It's one in the morning, Ryuuji," Seto hissed. He wondered why Ryuuji's inability to tell time was more infuriating than the fact that he was calling at such an odd hour, but he decided to ignore that.
"No it's not," Ryuuji replied stubbornly. His words were more than a little slurred.
"Ask Honda if you don't believe me… god knows why, but you listen to him."
"Honda's not here. He's still in Japan!" Ryuuji tittered, causing Seto to stare at the phone in shock as the raven-haired man continued on blithely. "He thought I was going to American forever! Isn't that funny? He got so mad at me when I told him that it was only for a week… honestly, I don't know why he was so worried. Why would I live in America for so long? My English isn't even that good!"
Considering the way Ryuuji had said the last sentence in a mix of English and Japanese – two languages that Seto understood perfectly but now had trouble distinguishing due to Ryuuji's apparent inability to speak clearly – Seto didn't have a very difficult time believing that.
"You're in America?"
"Yes! And the bartenders here are so mean. I only had two drinks! But I heard the plastic surgery is cheap! Everyone does it! Hee!"
That was something that he never wanted to hear again. Never. He did, however, wonder how it was that Ryuuji could have gotten to acting like this. Only two drinks had gotten him this bad? Hrm. It was probably a good thing that he had gotten thrown out of the bar or the idiot probably would have found himself in somebody else's bed again.
Not that he… cared, of course.
"So my nose… what do you think, Seto? Do you think I should get some work on it?"
He was so caught up in the questions being thrown at him left and right that he barely noticed the fact that Ryuuji had just used his first name.
"Your nose is fine, Ryuuji." Seto wondered exactly how many drinks Ryuuji must have had to end up in this state. He knew that the other man was quite prideful and more than a little arrogant when it came to his looks – almost to the point when he could have been the next Narcissus. And now, to be suddenly asked all these inane little questions about… stuff… well, it was odd, to say the least. "There is nothing wrong with your nose, and you do not need work on it."
He made sure to use small words and to speak them slowly, so Ryuuji had no way of misinterpreting them.
There was a silence following his statement before Ryuuji asked, "My face?"
He has a very pretty face… remember? a sadistic voice reminded him. He wondered if it was possible to sue himself… hard to tell these days, really.
Finally, telling himself that if Ryuuji really was as drunk as he thought he was – therefore, the idiot wouldn't remember anything he was about to say – he decided to take a chance and say what was somewhat on his mind.
"If you want my opinion, then I think you should stop worrying about the way you look and focus on the complete lack of sense you have. You obviously cannot hold alcohol very well yet you are suddenly calling me up at one-thirty in the morning to complain about the way you look. I should hold you accountable but I will be lenient because you are friends with Yuugi, and that automatically brings down the number of brain cells you have by half. The make inu cuts the remainder down by a fourth, and need I remind you that you didn't have that many to begin with in the first place. Your face is perfectly fine, and there is nothing wrong with it. My suggestion is that you stop worrying about it and get acquainted with your bed so you can sleep off this mess that you drunk yourself into."
Silence.
He smirked and was about to hang up the phone when a voice asked almost timidly, "So is that a no?"
Silence.
His mouth opened – most likely to scream and curse – when he was interrupted.
"I just want to make sure you're not just saying that."
There was something about that question… something that he knew was there but just couldn't pick up. His mind was bellowing at him to hang up before anymore damage could be made… begging for him to put the phone down before everything he stood for was ruined… and instead, he found himself staring straight ahead at the wall as he ignored all the warnings that were being flung into his face like bricks.
"Would I do a thing like that?" he replied simply, letting that rhetorical question say it all. Would Kaiba Seto ever lie to make somebody else feel better? Maybe for Mokuba, but that was Mokuba. He loved his younger brother… loved him like he had loved no other. He was the only person he would lie for, wasn't he? He was the only person he felt it necessary to act that way for.
Right?
He had noticed, over the past few days, that it was starting to become more difficult for him to lie to himself. It didn't help that he had doubled his attempts – every time he tried, something would be throw at him that made him more aware of his disability than ever.
He opened his mouth to add more insults to the pile, but was interrupted when Ryuuji said in a voice that seemed unreasonably sober, especially when compared to all the prior conversation, "I was hoping you would say that."
And everything that was on his lips died with those short words.
Looking back, reflecting on the moment… he should have said something. He didn't know what, but he had an inherent feeling that he just should have said something, even if that something was not what he wanted to say or what he necessarily felt. But he couldn't. It was just too much too soon, and his mind just froze.
The silence that followed was long, and perhaps the reason why Ryuuji hung up was because he thought that Seto had already done so himself.
After all, what was the possibility that Kaiba Seto had finally found himself unable to say anything at all? What was the possibility of that?
None. None at all.
He wasn't getting very good at lying to himself anymore, was he?
~ * ~
When the hapless subordinates came to pick up their boss in the morning, they discovered that the hotel room was securely locked and that the person inside wasn't about to move. Ryuuji had, after the phone call, started to feel the more lovely affects of his new experiment and decided to take Seto's advice. Whether he would have taken Seto's advice if he was sober was a different story. Then again, if he had already been sober, he wouldn't have been given the advice in the first place and thus would not have to be wondering about that question.
Later, he would have no idea what had possessed him to do such a thing. He wouldn't be remembering much of it, granted, but everything he would remember would happily stick out in his mind until it slowly drove him crazy. Well, drove him more crazy that he already was, since some were under the impression that he was already at a rather unhinged mental state.
But he didn't care about what that person had to say.
Or… at least he hadn't before.
~ * ~
After Ryuuji had hung up, Seto had found himself sitting there with the most numb expression on his face ever. It was as if he wasn't sure what had happened, or if all the prior events had happened. What he did know for sure was that he found himself sorely wishing that the Saturday before last had never happened – it would be so much easier to get on with life if all these strange things didn't keep happening.
Although… a part of his mind couldn't help but protest. It was the same part of his mind that had started to panic when Ryuuji had asked about getting plastic surgery – the voice that wanted to tell Ryuuji that he was beautiful the way he was. But Kaiba Seto wasn't supposed to have those words in his vocabulary, let alone be able to think them.
Yuriko… he would never tell her she was pretty, even if he thought it. And she didn't really seem to expect it of him. Ryuuji didn't expect it of him either – too busy pissing off at him or getting drunk, most likely – but he wanted to say it to him anyway. He didn't know why that was the case, but the part of him that wanted to really didn't care. It was a confounding concept to actually want to give a compliment… to actually want to be kind… when he had spent so much of his life trying to do anything but.
Ryuuji… Ryuuji had come into his life in a most unexpected way, and if he was to be truthful with himself, he wouldn't mind if he stayed. There was something about him that made him smile. Even the arguments, petty or serious, seemed sometimes to be more like banter. A competition of wits and attempts to rise above the other… a competition that he often won but sometimes didn't.
It had never occurred to him that losing could be so… interesting.
But that was the problem in a nutshell. His relationships weren't exactly supposed to be interesting. It was a sad fact, but more or less true. He couldn't afford to be distracted by his relationships – Mokuba being the only exception – when he had a company to run. And as Mokuba had slowly started to grow apart in a quest to discover his own life, Seto had started to get used to such detachment that he found it difficult now to grow close to anyone.
He couldn't say that he had been this happy before, but he couldn't say that he was this confused before the incident either.
Frowning slightly, he pushed himself off the bed and made his way to the computer. His room seemed to be so bare, even after years of living in the mansion. It scared him sometimes, if he wanted to admit such bizarre concepts, but usually he ignored it. How often did he spend here admiring the furniture anyway? Who cared what was on the walls or how the colors matched? He only lived there… he didn't care about it.
But for the first time in a while, he was starting to wonder. Ryuuji's apartment – Ryuuji's and Honda's, but how often did he think about the brunette? – was small but filled with memories and life. His room was cold and empty.
What was it about Ryuuji that suddenly made him care for these types of things? They were so petty, so unimportant. He shouldn't care… he didn't want to care. But a part of him that had been silent for so long was starting to rebel – something that wanted to enjoy life rather than waste it away on work and an empty home.
It all depends on your interpretation. You do what you see fit, and your life is meaningful only if you think it is. And in the end, that's all that matters. Not what anyone else thinks. Only you.
Was that it? Was that what had… no, that wasn't right, he thought grimly to himself as the computer started to come out of its sleep, protesting the entire way.
He bit his lip slightly as he glared at the computer, silently wishing for it to quicken its pace. The words were pounding in his head, incessant and damning.
Everything that he had done in life… it had always been for others. His step-father, Mokuba, the rest of the world. This was the first time that somebody had the audacity to tell him to live for himself.
If he had lived for himself from the very beginning, would he have done any of this? What would he be like if that was to happen? Would he be happier or worse off? Would he be….
Why did he care about such things anyway? None of those scenarios were going to happen. He had chosen his path and now he was on it, and there was no way he could ever go into those other worlds. So there was really no point to all these 'what if's'… they were merely distractions, just like Otogi Ryuuji.
Clicking open the document that he had been working on, making his way to the bottom… Kaiba Seto kept his eyes glued to the screen and his jaw set. He skimmed it over quickly… when he had first written it, it was really a venting of his emotions and an attempt to get everything out of his system.
But with this new development, he realized that he would have to act quickly or risk losing the game that had somehow been created between Ryuuji and himself. A game that had rules nobody could understand and a goal that nobody could ever really attain.
Once he was satisfied that there was nothing else he could add, he made his way to the send button and clicked on it. As he did so, he could almost feel somebody's eyes burning holes into his back. He wasn't sure whose eyes it was, but he knew that they were accusing him all the same. Accusing him of running away from something that he still did not quite comprehend, an odd activity that he had been doing all his life and could not let go of now.
~ * ~
Yuriko:
We need to talk. When is the earliest time we can meet?
GAH! *falls over dead* Nothing good to say so I won't say anything at all… except I haven't had this much trouble with a chapter since… *twitch* chapter 7? *DIES*
Some humor courtesy of Ninetails-chan, or another take on how the phone call conversation could have (and perhaps should have) gone. :)
Ryuuji: SEX!
Seto: 00; Who the heck are you?
Ryuuji: SEX!
On a more solemn note (I was considering putting 'sober' there for a moment… *innocent grin*), I will not be updating on the next update date (I originally said 'next week' but it isn't really next week. It's next next week, but that doesn't sound as good and now I'm just ranting). I have finals coming up and I really just need a break. I'll be putting up some contest entry up as a vague compensation… but best to check back on my profile next time too, just in case I decide to take another break. It's not that I'm tired of this fic… I'm just starting to feel very tired in general. I don't know why – I'm not even updating every week this time, but I just feel like I need a little time to myself to work on some other stories. ^^;; Besides, this chapter didn't leave off on that bad of a cliffhanger, did it? ^.^ It's not as bad as the next couple chapters anyway, at least. *innocent giggle*
Sankyuu for your patience!
=(X.x)=
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