There is an end in sight for this story—a fact I am proud of, but which also makes me a little sad. I've projected another two chapters and an epilogue of sorts will finish off I Want The Mad Ones. I don't know why I am wasting my time. I am not ready to be grown up. I want to always be a child and have fun. Sound familiar? Heh. I guess I've written much of myself into Yugi in this particular story. It's why I don't want it to end. I become the things I write—or rather, they become me. I map out the locations in my stories in relation to the neighborhood I grew up in. I know the selfsame dilapidated grocery store we used to play behind as children. They've renovated it since. So it goes. I know the grade school, and the assistant principal, and every feature of the weathered sidewalk on the way home. I know the shaded bench in the park overlooking the field of green. I know the waiting room in the hospital and the doctor's office and the wax paper covering the table and the pictures of sailboats lining the walls and the fake plastic plant in the corner. I know everything in Yugi's world by way of firsthand experience. Except Yami. Where is my Yami?
( )
Sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Never been kissed, but already broken. There was a kind of resigned irony about the environment, and the attendants of Yugi's birthday party took care not to mention it. They'd all decided this was to be a happy day, full of fun and laughter for their friend. Nothing unpleasant was to be dwelt on or brought to his concern. This was a day his childlike, endearing naivety would be not only permissible but encouraged. This was his day.
Solomon had quite enjoyed all the planning and necessary shopping. He, of course, jumped at the opportunity to spoil his grandson, and therefore purchased anything the boy wanted for the party. There was cake and ice cream, pizza, soda, matching Pikachu paper plates and cups, and actual helium balloons. Yugi was ecstatic. He was beside himself with joy, and it was wonderful to see.
"You want to open your presents?'
Yugi was elated. His mouth full of pizza, he'd hardly found time between longwinded conversations with his friends to even eat, let alone think about the stack of gifts on the table that awaited his attention. Of course, once the issue had been brought to his interest, he could not refuse. "Yes, please," he said after gulping down some of the carbonated beverage in his cup.
"Which would you like to open first," Solomon asked.
"The big one," Yugi replied instantly, squirming excitedly in his seat.
"That's from me and Joey," Tristan said as the package was being handed to his friend.
The boy tore into the gift as if his very life depended on it, as if it were the only thing in the world that existed at that very moment. Having been wrapped by Joey and Tristan, the paper did not withstand Yugi's ministration long at all, and soon the naked box sat on the table for all to see. "It's a remote controlled car," Joey explained.
"Wow, cool!" Yugi's first instinct was to rip open the box and figure out how his new toy worked, but he was stopped by his father in the name of etiquette.
"Yugi, that is not polite," Yami corrected him with a soft laugh. "You have other gifts, and you can play with this one later."
"Okay," the boy yielded. "Thank you JoeyandTristan, for the car, it's really cool."
"Ah, forget about it," Joey said. "I'm jus' glad you like it."
"Yeah, we'll show you how to use it afterwards," Tristan agreed.
Solomon passed one of the last two presents to his grandson. "Here you go, Yugi," he said.
"Oh, that one's from Serenity and me," Tea spoke up. "I picked it out."
"And I wrapped it," the other girl added shyly. Yugi looked across the table at her and smiled. Serenity blushed.
This gift wasn't a box like the last. It was something lighter, and had been placed in a decorated bag beneath some colored tissue paper. This gift definitely bore the mark of feminine preparation. That so much thought and care went into the presentation, despite the fact that Yugi would soon tear the thing apart anyway, showed it could only have been given by girls. Strangely, the boy seemed conscious of this and took the process very slowly, deliberately, thoughtfully, as he shifted around the tissue paper in the bag to discover the gift inside, as if he wanted to recognize Serenity's outpoured effort, and to thank her for it. This was not typical behavior of a six year old.
"I don't have this movie," Yugi said when the thing was in his hands. "I've got the cartoon one, and this has real people in it," he observed with curiosity as he read the title a third time to make sure it really said what he thought: Peter Pan.
How appropriate. The Peter Pan complex. The I-always-want-to-be-a-little-boy-and-have-fun mentality. Yami cringed inwardly.
"That one's the new one," Tea explained. "It's pretty good."
"You haven't seen it before," Serenity asked.
"Nope," Yugi said. "I can't wait to watch it. Thank you Tea. Thank you Serenity."
The girls smiled at him.
There was one present left. "Okay, here we go," Solomon said, placing the small gift in his grandson's hands. It was square and flat and wrapped in simple blue paper, which Yugi made short work of. It was a CD. The case was dark blue—almost black—and the cover bore some strange drawing in silvery lines. Yugi's eyes turned upon Bakura, the giver, for explanation, and like a domino effect everyone else stared at him, too.
"I wasn't sure what to get you," Bakura said, a little intimidated by the sudden attention. "So I picked up a copy of my favorite album. You remember that day in the park, Yugi?"
"When you danced," the boy offered.
Bakura smiled and nodded. "Well, that's the music I was dancing to. It's called Agætis Byrjun. The group's Icelandic. They're my absolute favorite." He paused, feeling self-conscious. "I hope you enjoy it."
Yugi gave him a warm smile. "Thank you," he said.
A hush fell over the table and just as the others thought it would be time to move on to the next birthday event, Solomon reached into his pocket and said, "And here's one from me." The small bundle he gave to Yugi was a thick stack of cards, bound by a single ribbon.
Yami started. He knew that shape, those dimensions, the dark, swirling graphic printed on one side. A whole series of emotional reactions went of in his head. There were so many memories attached to the image, and Yami panicked, knowing Yugi was not ready for them. "Solomon," he whispered, but it was too late, and the deck was already in Yugi's hands.
You could have heard a pin drop. It was as if the others had freeze-framed, having felt the tension heighten instantly. Yugi was staring at the cards. Just staring. Not a smile, not a frown, just an empty, neutral regard. Something passed through his eyes then, something barely perceptible, and he was quiet, and the room was quiet, and after a moment, his hand subconsciously strayed to a place above his right temple, a place that held a scar that still hurt, and he could sometimes hear a man's voice whispering, husky and low, when the silence was the worst.
Yami stood up. His protective nature screamed that this was very bad, very bad, nothing good can come from it, undo it now! But it could not be taken back, the damage was done, and Yugi would have to deal with whatever emotional repercussions ensued. Later. Now was his birthday, he was supposed to be happy, damn it, why did Solomon ruin that for him? "Cake," Yami growled. It was all he could do to keep from yelling at the old man. "Now. Solomon...kitchen."
The elder Mutou looked stunned, as if he had no idea what was going on, as if Yami were playing a game with him that he didn't understand. The others at the table looked from Yami, standing tensely, to Solomon, who sat there quite bewildered, to Yugi, who had not yet responded, and back to Yami again. Waiting for something to happen. Anything. Somebody break the ice.
"Uh...yeah...cake time now," Joey stammered. "That sounds good, doesn't it, Yuug?"
The boy lifted his head up slowly, almost disoriented, as if waking from a coma. He shook his head weakly in agreement. "Yeah," he echoed distantly, "sounds good."
"And me and Tristan can help you set up your remote controlled car," Joey continued, hoping if he kept it up he could distract Yugi.
"Cool," Yugi agreed, a rumor of excitement in his voice now, a smile claiming the corners of his mouth. It was working.
In the small-scale pandemonium of Tristan, Tea, Serenity, and Bakura all finally getting a clue and helping to engage their friend in any thought other than the deck of cards, Yami was able to slip away discreetly, all but dragging Solomon along by the collar of his shirt. "What was that all about," he asked when they were alone in the kitchen.
"I was going to ask you the same thing," the old man replied, still appearing to be out of the loop on what exactly was going on.
Yami turned his back, somehow managing to reign in his frustration as he spoke. "What were you thinking, giving him such a gift?"
"I...I thought it would be nice," Solomon admitted sheepishly. He had, in fact, gone to quite some trouble to reproduce Yugi's dueling deck to the best of his recollection, as the boy's original cards had been lost somewhere along the way. His backpack had never been recovered, the deck could have been stolen along with his Millennium Puzzle, or it could have been in its traditional location, in the front pocket of his jeans, which the hospital had disposed of, since Solomon so avidly insisted he did not care to tend to the stains and the memories. And so, every single card was gone.
With great difficulty over the last several months, Solomon had been able to acquire many of the basic monsters Yugi had once owned—Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl, Celtic Guardian, Summoned Skull, Kuriboh, Mystical Elf, Magical Hats, Monster Reborn, Change of Heart—and a dozen other trap and spell cards. It was nowhere near the prowess of Yugi's former deck, but it was a basis on which he could rebuild. It was a very thoughtful gift, but it implied a great deal of responsibility on Yugi's part. The thing expected some return, that the boy would make use of it, that he would still have the same love of dueling, that he would be able to duel as well as or better than he ever did before, and that was asking a lot of anyone, and far too much of Yugi, who could hardly read the back of a cereal box anymore, let alone recall all the intricate rules and strategies of Duel Monsters.
"He's not ready."
"I just thought," Solomon said, his tone resigned, "that he would like it."
Yami removed a book of matches from a drawer. "I know," he replied at last, very softly. "If...if things had been different, I'm sure...but I don't think he can handle it—there are too many questions involved, too many intense feelings he's associated with that game. It's too confusing for him." He struck a match and began setting it to the wicks of the candles on the cake.
"But it's good for him to ask questions," Solomon objected. "Don't you want him to ask questions, to be curious about his past, to learn, and grow?"
"Yes," Yami admitted. "But I don't want him to be so overwhelmed by all the questions that he becomes confused, scared. I don't know." He shook the flame from the match and tossed it into the nearby sink. "It's his birthday, Solomon. I just wanted the day to come and go without event. I just wanted this one thing to go right."
( )
He had smiled, and then blown out the candles, but when Tea asked what he wished for, Yugi had no answer for her. There was a great deal going on inside his head, and Yami could tell, so he changed the subject by cutting the cake and setting the first piece—a big piece, with lots of frosting—in front of his son. Yugi showed minimal interest, and the others didn't have much to say.
"Daddy, how old am I?"
Yami stopped what he was doing. The table froze again. Damn. Could just one thing go right today? "Well, honey," he sighed, trying to think of something that was truthful, that would make sense—not another lie—something Yugi could determine for himself, that he didn't have to be told or force-fed by anyone else. "You are as old as you feel," Yami explained. "How old do you think you are?"
Yugi's gaze lost focus as he searched himself for an answer, his eyes landing passively on the cake before him, and he stared into it as if it held a clue. "Am I ten?"
Yami hesitated, hoping this was all right, that it was okay and not too dishonest, that he wasn't openly lying. "Do you feel ten?"
"Yes," he replied, the pitch of his voice a little lower than it had been in some while, "I think."
The others at the table relaxed, not sure how much more of these tense ups and downs they could handle, and Yugi took a bite of his cake. Yami said nothing more—taking care to neither dispute or affirm the boy's conviction—he simply let it be, let the moment pass, and went on serving birthday cake to Yugi's friends.
( )
"And then Tristan said we could go to his house, because he has a pool, and he showed me how to make the little car go around in a circle. I thought it was funny—Joey helped me, too." Yugi paused in his story as his father steered him into his bedroom. "And that movie was really cool. Did you watch it, Daddy?"
"No, honey," Yami replied, picking out a pair of pajamas from a dresser drawer.
"I liked it. I wish I could be like Peter Pan, and fly, and have a pet fairy, too, and name her Serenity." Yugi was talking himself to sleep.
"There are no such things as fairies," Yami said calmly, helping his son to strip his day clothes.
"Don't say that, they'll die," the boy explained, struggling out of his shirt. "Like Tinkerbell, and then you have to say, 'I do believe in fairies,' and then they'll be okay."
"All right, sweetheart." Yami offered an arm for balance as Yugi stepped into his pajama pants. "So you had a fun today?"
"Yes. Those presents were cool."
"Well, then you ought to write thank you notes to your friends." He shepherded his son toward his bed, where the sheets had already been turned down.
"Why," he asked, yawning.
"Because it's the polite thing to do," Yami replied. "Now, would you like to see your gift from me?"
"You got me a present, too," Yugi asked in surprise. "What is it?"
Yami smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Stay put," he instructed, and walked toward the door and closed it, and then flicked off the light switch.
Before he could ask what his father was doing, Yugi found himself in the darkness of his room, but he was not afraid, because suddenly he discovered the night sky above him. The blackness was pinpricked with hundreds of stars, so many stars Yugi couldn't begin to count them; so many stars that, for a moment, he actually believed he was standing outside looking up at the heavens, rather than standing in his room looking up at the ceiling. "How did you do that," he breathed, as if it were magic.
Yami found his son's hand in the darkness, and held it gently. "They're stickers," he answered. "They glow in the dark, so that you can see them when you turn out the light."
Yugi clung to his father's arm as if he would be lost without it. "Now I won't be scared of the dark," he said quietly, in a distant voice, still in so much rapture and awe.
"I didn't realize you were scared of the dark."
"I was afraid to tell you."
"You don't have to be afraid to tell me anything." Yami paused, imagining the expression on the boy's face at that moment. "Do you like it," he asked at length.
"Yes," Yugi replied, a smile audible in his voice. "Thank you so much, Daddy."
"You're welcome, honey."
A moment later, Yugi asked, "Where's the Big Dipper?"
Yami laughed. "I don't know if it's up there. I wasn't really thinking about constellations." He nudged his son, signifying that it was time to crawl into bed. "You'll have to find one for yourself," he said, kneeling carefully in the dark to make sure Yugi was sufficiently tucked in.
"Will you stay, please," the boy asked. "You can help me find consternations."
"Constellations, Yugi," he corrected, "and yes, I will stay, though not for long, because you need to go to sleep."
"Okay," the boy replied, and obediently scooted over so that his father could lie beside him, and they both settled in for their stargazing. "I see a Dipper, but it's not the big one. It's a Tiny Dipper."
Yami laughed. "Where?"
"Over there," he said, and pointed.
Yami reached over in the darkness and traced the line of Yugi's arm with his fingers until he reached the end, the index finger, thrust out determinedly in the direction of the Tiny Dipper. He followed the boy's line of sight.
"See," Yugi demonstrated, drawing the shape in the air, "the handle goes down that way."
"I see it."
"And over there's a turtle," he said, motioning with his father's hand over his own. "I call it Speed Racer Turtle, 'cause he's really fast."
"How do you know that?"
"B'cause that car's chasing after him." He traced the outline. "What do you see, Daddy?"
"I don't know, honey."
"Well, try."
"...I see a rock."
"You're not trying hard enough."
"All right...I see...a bird. Right there."
"That's a good one. What's its name?"
"Horace."
Christmas Tree
Howling Wolf
A Pancake in the Shape of a Cactus
Bunny Foo Foo
Old Horse
And together they mapped out the order of the stars, laughing softly and contently in each other's presence and the magic of the light, lingering in silences and heartbeats and hushed whispers, finding comfort in familiarity and shapes etched in darkness well into the night.
( )
That someone could actually own a backyard full of water was a very strange concept to Yugi, but it was an idea he warmed up to as soon as he and the others went for a swim. Yugi loved to swim. Another instinct. Like riding a bike. Very soon he and his friends were playing all manner of pool games—Marco Polo, Penny Hunt, and Freeze Tag. Tristan brought out his CD player, Mrs. Taylor made lunch for everyone, and then came the obligatory half hour wait before swimming again. Tristan, Joey, and Yugi were horsing around in the small patch of grass beside the pool, Bakura and Serenity were talking together by the diving board, dipping their legs into the cool water and—flirting, was it? Tea decided to sun for a while, and so she stretched out on one of the reclining plastic pool chairs, beside Yami, who accepted her company gratefully. He, of course, had not swum that day and had instead sat by himself and observed.
"This is nice," Tea said, relishing the warmth of the sun on her face.
"Yes, it is," Yami agreed, glancing at her.
"You ought to go for a swim. The water's fantastic," she remarked.
He smiled at her. "I don't know how to swim."
"You could stand in the shallow end," she offered, "and just enjoy the water."
"I don't have swimming trunks."
"Stop making excuses." Tea laughed. "I'm sure the Taylor's have a pair you can borrow." She looked at him amusedly. "Or would that be too personal?"
His eyes swept over her figure briefly. "Yes," he said, "it would. But I have no desire to swim, thank you."
"All right, suit yourself. You don't know what you're missing."
Yami stared at her. "Yes, I think I do," he said, and looked away. Yugi shrieked in delight where he played on the grass with Joey and Tristan.
"You seem so sad," Tea observed quietly, and sat up to speak more confidentially to him. "What's going on?"
Yami sighed. "Just...things," he explained. "Little things. Worry, and doubt."
"You're worried about Yugi?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm worried more for...his future. How long this whole thing is going to last. If it will ever end, and things return to the way they were. Selfish things like that."
"That's not selfish," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "You care about Yugi." She paused. "Why is there doubt?"
"I doubt my actions regarding him. My competence as a parent. The things I let him get away with. The things I let him believe." The hand on his arm tightened in a little reassuring squeeze. He looked over at her.
"You're doing fine," she said, smiling brightly at him. "He's doing fine. You're just—"
It all happened so fast.
Yugi cried out again, but this time not in joy.
Yami froze.
A parent's trained ear can immediately make the distinction between a happy noise and a hurt noise. He was instantly on his feet and before anyone else had time to register what was going on, he was at Yugi's side, where the boy had fallen to the ground, just folded, just crumpled, it had seemed. "What happened," he barked to no one in particular.
Joey gaped. "I...I don't know. I was chasin' him, I think he tripped. I'm so sorry."
Yami bent over his son. "Yugi, what hurts," he coaxed, trying to lift him up. Yugi grunted. That was all he could do. His eyes were shut tightly and his jaw was clenched so hard that his ears were ringing. His fingers dug into grass and dirt, and the knuckles were turning white. Yami felt a chillingly familiar pit of nausea in his stomach. Something was very wrong, and he knew it without having to be told. He needed to get Yugi away somewhere. Somewhere quiet, where the cause of this outburst could be determined in privacy. Yami had a disconcerting suspicion that he already knew what was wrong, that he already knew which part of his boy was hurt—the part that still hurt—that would take several more long months to completely heal.
I should not have let him work himself up. When will I learn?
Wordlessly, he scooped the boy up and whisked him inside the house, with Tristan following close behind him in concern. "A bathroom," Yami inquired urgently.
"Down this hall, second door on the right," the teen instructed him. "Can I help?"
"Perhaps, when I find out what's wrong," Yami replied, stepping quickly through the doorway and setting his charge carefully on the counter. Yugi was still doubled forward in pain. "Yugi, honey, talk to me."
The boy looked up at him with effort, his brow creased, his eyes tearing. "Daddy," he said, and his voice strained with panic and hurt. Daddy, help me.
Yami knew.
"Tristan, can you wait outside please?"
"Sure." Confused but willing to comply, he closed the door on his way out.
Yugi was whimpering. "It's okay," Yami said as he carefully pulled the boy off the countertop and steadied him on his feet, "I've got you." He knew what he was looking for. Bracing his son against himself with one arm, he leaned over the boy and with his free hand stretched the elastic hem of Yugi's swimming trunks away from the skin of his lower back. As discreetly as possible, he peered into the folds of material at the dark, wet stain. He brushed his fingertips against it and they came off the fabric red. He sighed, restored the waistband. "Okay," he said gently, whispering into the boy's ear, "you're bleeding again."
Yugi shook his head fervently, as if he could dispute it. He was gripping Yami's shirt, trying to bury himself. "I don't want to bleed anymore," he wept sadly.
"I know." Yami encased the boy in a proper hug, ran his clean fingers through his hair, wishing there could be some way to take all of these setbacks, these disappointments, these heartbreaks away from his precious perfect Yugi. A month ago, it was mutually decided that the panty liners they'd begun using to catch the rest of the bleeding were no longer necessary. Yugi had gloried in this triumph, proud that he'd overcome this one obstacle—that he'd healed as much as to not be bleeding anymore. And now even that one small sense of victory was gone. "We need to be more careful, okay? You know what your body can handle," Yami reminded the boy softly. "And no more swimming today."
"No."
"I'm afraid so, sweetheart."
Yugi sobbed against his father, frustrated and in pain, the sharp pains—like ice picks—that he hated and wished would never come back, the accompanying discomfort and humiliation he'd thought he put behind him. It was all back again.
( )
"It's quite apparent what happened," Doctor Johnson was saying. "In his physical exertion, Yugi reopened one of the healing rectal lacerations. Now, obviously, he'll bleed for another few weeks, and any longer than that, you should definitely give me a call. Other than this little event, he seems to be perfectly healthy and doing very well. Just try to remind him to take it easy for a while, okay?"
The only thing Yami hated more than the way the doctor seemed to talk down to Solomon and him—as though they were stupid and didn't have a clue—was the way he spoke about Yugi as if he weren't in the room. He's right there, you imbecile. Speak to him. Otherwise you make him feel invisible, and he doesn't like that.
"All right," Solomon agreed. "Thank you very much, doctor."
( )
"He wasn't even talking to me," Yugi mumbled in the taxi on the way home. He scowled darkly out at the scenery changing in the window. "Like I wasn't there."
"I noticed it too," Yami said. "Don't let it bother you, Yugi. Doctor Johnson wasn't intending to be rude to you."
"But he didn't even talk to me." The boy's posture showed defiance, his expression contempt.
"That's enough of that," Yami scolded lightly. While he understood how upsetting the doctor's ignorance was to his son, he needed to make sure all manners were minded. This bitterness was not becoming of sweet little Yugi.
"I hate it when he does that."
"All right." Yami was losing patience with the boy's attitude.
Yugi crossed his arms over his chest, and in a very low and derisive tone, he said, "I hate him."
Solomon craned his head around where he sat in the passenger seat to look at his grandson in shock. The driver hadn't heard, or didn't care. Yami was staring at the boy. "I sincerely hope, for your sake, you didn't mean that," he warned, and Yugi's shoulders drooped, and the tension left his temperament. He would pout now, understanding that he'd said something bad, and regretting that he could not take it back. "I expect more from you," Yami continued. "You of all people should be aware of the negative effects of hate. You know better than that."
Yugi hung his head. Now Daddy was upset with him. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. His father only looked away, and said nothing. Now it was serious. Daddy didn't forgive him. Daddy was mad. Yugi's world came to an abrupt stop. "I'm sorry, Daddy," he tried again, a little louder and more desperate, his voice wavering, on the verge of tears. Nothing. Oh God. Yugi started crying—a broken kind of crying—apologizing piteously between sobs.
Now the driver was attending to the conversation, but he pretended not to, as he always did, and he drove his fares to their destination, the Turtle Game Shop. Solomon paid him and the three piled out of the car. Yugi was tripping over himself with tears, and Yami guided him up to the house with a hand on his shoulder. "I've got to open the shop," Solomon explained, "so I'll see you in a few hours." Yami nodded in acknowledgement, and walked with Yugi into the living area behind the store.
When they'd reached the boy's room, they came to a halt, and Yami turned his son toward himself, and hugged him tightly. Yugi was caught off guard, having thought he was going to be punished, but in a moment his guilty sobs were just sobs. He just cried, for no reason he could readily name. He was in mild pain, but not as bad as yesterday at Tristan's house. He was frustrated that he was still bleeding. He was very sorry that he'd made his father upset. He was just sad. And he cried, and Daddy held him, as if he knew all the thoughts in the boy's head, as if he were saying, It's okay to be confused.
"I forgive you, honey," Yami said after a moment when the boy in his arms had calmed somewhat. "I know you did not mean it. You are not capable of hate." Cautiously, he backed up several feet and lowered himself to sit in the rocking chair, bringing his son with him. "I'm sorry all these things happen to you, baby. I wish I could take them away from you. I wish you could just be happy."
Yugi sat up in Yami's lap, rubbed at his eyes with the back of a hand, and sniffled. He was very quiet for a long time, and then he whispered, "How long will I hurt?"
"Do you mean," Yami asked, choosing his words very carefully, "how long will you hurt in your body, or how long will you hurt in your heart?"
Yugi looked him straight in the eye. "My heart," he answered.
Yami sighed. "It will take time," he explained, and in some small part of his logical brain, he wondered how much Yugi really remembered, and how long he had known. Yami felt as if he were speaking to two Yugi's—the sixteen-year-old Yugi, who'd been raped but never had amnesia, and the little Yugi, who'd been cut by some man and who was scared and needed Daddy. Which was listening now? The feeling unnerved him. "Your friends, and your grandfather, and I will be here for you," he went on in spite of his misgivings. "And if you ever want to talk about it, you just come tell me. And if you want to be sad for a while, that's okay, too. We all love you, and we're taking this at your pace, and we're dealing with things as they happen."
Yugi was thoughtful, taking this in. He didn't want to hurt in his heart anymore. Yes, he wanted to be happy again. He felt a little bit better, knowing his father was not upset, knowing that his father loved him, and would be there to talk about the difficult things when he was ready. He would not hurt forever. There was an end in sight. Comforted, he leaned against Yami's chest and closed his eyes.