Yay! Second chapter of "Illusionary Visions"! Yay! And it took me only how long? -.-. Damn it, I suck ass sometimes XD. But, you know. Whatever. At least I did it, right? Right?

-Silence-

....Whatever. Here's the shit that keeps me from getting sued!

WARNING: Contains shounen-ai, attempts at suicide, and swearing.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yu-gi-oh, or any of its characters.

REVIEW REMARKS!:

Faite: == Thanks for the wonderful compliments! I'm glad you like (one of) my style(s) of writing! And angst is one

of the best things to write with me, sooo.... yeah! Here's another chapter anyways!

Kaysha: I'm a first in something! -dances- ==. Thanks for saying that! But I'm sure this story could get a little better... Anyways, here's another chapter!

Optimistic girl194: XD Well, it had character death! ;;;. And maybe Seto will live with guilt! Let's find out XD.

Killian: Yes, Poor Jou ;;. I'm so meeeean to him XD. And thanks!

Kate(): Hi! Thanks! Here's the update! XP

Suicidal Skies: Thanks Ti-ti XD. Glad you like it! And of course you need angst! It's what make this world a non-happy place for people like us XD. And Okies! ==. Ciao!

Arrowsphere ( ): -Dances- Another first! -Beams- I'm so happy! Except... well, yeah, I hope I didn't make you want to cry too much ;;. But, I'm glad it moved you so much! Thanks, and here's Seto's POV!

Misura: Thanks, even though I'm not sure if that's a good compliment! XD;;. But, yeah, I know I'm mean to Jou . Thanks for taking the time to read!

OoooooooooooO

Scream Loud Enough

Something horribly insane;

Emotionally brought pain;

Hatred is what you gain;

love is what is slain;

You may struggle in vain;

Your pureness now attained;

Don't you feel better now?

Are you asking how I did it?

How I never did faithfully commit?

How I made you happily submit?

How you began to slowly admit?

How much I took so I wouldn't split?

How much I secretly wanted to quit?

These questions are to easy for me!

Do you want to cry from what I've told you?

Cry at the fact that we're through?

Mourn at how much of this I knew?

How you were rightfully my accrue?

How you tumbled faithfully into?

Happily thinking with your head askew?

Ha! You should have thought about this before.

Do you mourn for what you lost?

Wonder how much this will cost?

Figure out how much emotion I tossed?

How I had to act on 'defrost'?

The idea that I had to exhaust?

And, finally, all the lines I've crossed?

You think way too much if you know now.

You had to enjoy the descent into destruction!

Had to enjoy the sweet, rare seduction!

How you came into this black abduction!

Savored the lead in this sick production!

I came to confuse this massive construction.

And ruin your sweet, movie-sold introduction.

This was your life, and look at now!

So scream loud enough so no one can hear!

Not all is well, as it may appear!

There is no one, your world is now clear!

Deserted for me, with hell spawn fear!

Did you ever think that I was sincere?

Never once thought I'd disappear?

This just proves your always wrong!

Maybe we could finish it with a kiss?

A piece of a heavenly, impure bliss?

I'll laugh as you reminisce.

Weigh the odds and evens without parti pris.

Nothing you wanted ever did exist!

All your dreams and love is now this:

A non existent waste of space.

Cry me a river so I can drown it all;

Try to pitifully plead and crawl;

A laughing smirk as I make you fall;

The merciful gene a forgotten scrawl;

Find yourself, again, under thrall;

Scream again as I call;

"It's your time to die!"

By: Aliana Demkiiw

oOOOOOOOOOOOo

The pungent odor of blood rested on his senses as his pale hand pushed the old door open, icy cobalt eyes searching the apartment for any signs of life.

As he might have guessed, there was none.

Walked towards the pale, pale body in the living room, hardly seen out of the slight vision the person was granted at the door. But, there it was. The body of his lover, lying in his own blood with bottles of spilled booze and a huge, red stained kitchen knife around him. He kicked a bottle as it came in his way, came directly in his path to stand infront the dead teen.

Such a pity.

He felt no emotion, no satisfying smirk crossing his face or mourning tears paintng his cheeks. A black, empty void had filled him a long time ago, even before he had met the dog, and it faithfully served him now, sucking up any feeling that might have hurt him or others.

He had to thank Gozaboru (1) for that.

The brunette absent minded-ly kneeled in front of the still boy, looked at the face with such an anguished peace chiseled on it that he started to remember everything that had happened, everything that had been and hadn't been. All the firsts and lasts this dog, this lowly mutt of society, had granted him.

The first time they actually ever went on a date. It wasn't actually anything extreme, no plotting friends or pleading brothers. The blonde had just went up to the icy teen, the one that had hated him and everyone around him since forever, and asked. A simple question of "Hey, Kaiba, I was wondering... Want to go get some coffee or a movie or somethin'?". That question was engraved in his mind as much as his answer of "Yes, whatever. When?". And then they had set up a time away from his work schedule and had gone out for a movie and a small supper a week later. So simple, but difficult, because they were both boys, both of the same gender.

The first kiss they had shared. It had been the second date, where they had just gone to the park and had just had a simple picnic, played a little soccer. It had been when the brown-eyed boy had tackled him to the ground. After a smile and a truimphant "Gotcha!", he had been kissed, very lightly and very quickly. Then the blonde had gotten off of him and had kicked the ball to get a goal. The score had ended up to be 7-4 in favor of him.

The first "I heart you" (He could not bring himself to think 'that', because he realized that 'that' was no longer true, to a degree, anymore). It had actually been the first snowfall, three months after their first date. They had been putting up their Christmas tree, because the blonde had wanted too. Tradition to put up your tree on the first snow fall, he had said. After the tree had been put up, they had gone outside to make a snowman. Mokuba hadn't been there, he remembered. The little raven-haired boy had gone to a friend's house, for hot chocolate. After they had made the snowmen (Jou wanted to make two, one for each of them), they had stood there, arms wrapped around each other for warmth. A remembrance of cold, soft lips touching his, and that was it. The brunette had said it first, not the blonde. The smile that had spread on the face of his lover had been warm, relieved, everything that they had found together pushed into one, breathless smile. And then it was repeated from the smaller one's mouth, and a kiss had ensued.

The first time they had 'made love', as the other had dubbed it. Christmas. One of those joyous holdays that never had brought him joy. But the last present given to him, kept so secret from him by his lover. It was only in the bedroom that night, nervous and face so soft, that the blonde had given himself to him, declaring that he, himself, was his, and vice versa. By the time they had finished, shivering and sighing, he felt renewed. they promised love for ever, once again from the first time, and had fallen asleep to a glorious morning.

The first fight. He had worked solid, for three straight weeks, to earn a companies trust and merge ideas for a new toy, a new game. And that had gotten the smaller duelist mad for some reason, had made him angry that he had more responsibilities then him. The blonde had marched into his office and yelled, cried, glared at him because he had not been paying attention, had not even payed a smidgen of attention to his upbringing in grades, because that was something to be proud of. So, by the time he had remained silent and the brown-eyed boy had yelled his final word, nothing was to say and they had not talked for two days, not until he had actually said sorry and the blonde had smiled and they had made love again.

And then, the last time of anything. It was only a week and a half ago. They had kissed, said anything they needed to, had fucked, and then he had had to go to America for 10 days. And he had returned to this. This dead body lying on the floor, alcohol gathered on his shirt and on the floor in bottles, blood dried and cracked on the wood and on his tattered shirt, on his arms in crosses of different kinds. He had come back and left to an empty void of emotion, a loveless relationship with one participant crying and the other dead to it. But now it was the other way around, and wasn't he supposed to be crying?

He found himself leaning forward and placing a dead kiss on the dead body, upon the cold lips that he had kissed swollen before. Moved some blonde, limp strands to partially cover his eyes, the closed eyes that no doubt held much anguish and confusion and bitter hatred for him.

Who would pay for the funeral? Grant this mutt a peaceful grave in a proper cemetery? No doubt in his mind, if left to the old father, he'd be dumped in a garbage bag, dug a hole in the alley, thrown in, and called 'done'. No, he would play the part of the weeping lover by paying for the funeral, play the part of one of the most hurt along with some others.

Along with a blindingly happy sister that would turn bitter infront of the eyes of others, like him, but in an entirely different way. She would follow in her brother's footsteps, but, again, differently, by maybe hanging herself or jumping off a high place near heaven.

Along with a tri-coloured hair vessel, so innocent and deadly with a past pharoah in his body. They would both cry, make another Nile river and hope it would bring the boy back to life. But, of course, it wouldn't, and the vessel would cry and mourn for years and the damned 'King of Games' would stand by and watch, try and comfort but fail.

He would be the third person to cry the most, invisible tears running down his cheeks and not an emotion on his face, not an emotion in his eyes to betray him of anything. Not one, single memory of a mutt he had once felt he 'loved', in a way.

But it wasn't true anymore. Not anymore, hadn't been for the last few months. He had dodged so much questions with excuses, so much tears with a cold front. Dodged everything. From the media, to his own brother. He had quit loving the blonde, slowly, ever so slowly, from three months ago. He never said anything unless it was 'open your legs, this might hurt a bit', never touched him unless it was needed, or if desire was present, and never thought of him unless he demanded attention.

No. He did not love him anymore.

Standing up and taking his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed the number of emergency and reported a suicide. All mechanical as he answered the questions dutifully. No, He had not been there. No, he did not know when he had done it, maybe it was only yesterday? No, he was not related to the suicide victim. No, he was alright, could he leave now? The phone clicked and went silent as he snapped it closed, slipped it into his pocket after looking at the date on the digital, glowing screen.

A cold smile etched itself on his face as he realized the date, realized everything that had happened on this date and what it had started, the chain of events that lead to this moment. It was on all the way through the wait for the police and ambulance, the tears of the blonde's loved ones as they arrived, through the retrieval of the boy's body to the ambulance, all through the questions and the ride home and all through the next 5 nights of no sleep, no dreams, no thoughts, no memories, all until the funeral held for him, payed by one Seto Kaiba.

No tear was shed from his eyes as he kissed the coffin of Jounichi Katsuya, age 17, announced dead on July 21st, 2003, may he always be remembered, one last time and backed away, a tight smile reaching his face and closing his cobalt eyes off to the world as the casket was buried, the band playing a sad serenade to him as dirt was piled on relentlessly. The crowd dispersed soon after, ever so slowly until it left him and Yugi and family, until it left him and the family, until it left him, all alone, the cold wafting through his clothes and into his heart.

A kiss was placed on the tombstone, one last time for one last memory, placed right on the date, as one tear was actually shed, fell onto the stone as he moved away, farther and farther away until he was home and wrote a note to himself, placed it in a book of times that had been, next to a photo of the casket and the blonde, prettied up to make him look alive. After placing the note, he walked over to his bed and held a drink to the sky before throwing it down his throat, almost choking him, and he drank and drank and drank until he fell on the bed and looked up, mouth opened in silent words until actual words were spoken. Three words and a name that would have made a difference in both of their worlds, if he had spoken them before, sooner.

"Happy 1st Anniversary, Katsuya Jounichi."

OoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooO

(1) I dunno the actual way to spell this, and only had a little time to look, so sorry!

Whee! I actually got the second chapter done! Actually, I had it done a LONG time ago, but it got deleted when my computer got infected with a virus. It deleted ALL of my files -.-.... So yeah. Here's the result of procrastination and a pissed off mood, chapter 2! The original was A LOT meaner, but I mushed it up ;;. And the poem was from a few weeks ago, and when I saw that it kinda fit this chapter, I used it! So, yeah. Hope you enjoyed! Laters!