Doodles
Written: ...Something... Maybe January? 2004
Category: Romance, angst
Disclaimer: If I owned Yu-Gi-Oh, you'd be able to tell. And you'd shoot me. So I don't. Foo.
Author's note: True story! What happens to Yugi happened to me, for the most part.
Doodles
by Pedal
I stared down at the page, gripping the corner, crinkling it. A random page in my sketchbook, somewhere near the back when I was not yet halfway through. Feigning a sneeze, I hissed loudly to cover the noise the paper made as I ripped it from its binding. "Bless you," whispered Ryou from a row over. Staring at the paper, I nodded absently in thanks.
On the TV blared a weekly broadcast of school news, but I ignored it, having doodled the pictures I did. Hunched in my desk, never once uncurling to glance at the TV, I stared at the drawings. My hands slowly tightened on the edges of the page.
Yami looked up at me with a catty smile, all in blue pen. Bubbles and hearts randomly appeared in the background. Below him, a less detailed sketch of him and I... kissing. It was so simple and looked so right. My hands were on his chest, close to his heart, and his arms were around me, pulling me up just enough to...
I crumpled it up, fiddling with it. I opened it and looked again, heart whumping at my ribs, as if I was going to give it to him. Sure, that's right, throw your companion away. The bell rang, and I stood with my backpack, walking past the trash, then recycle bin, holding the paper wad above it. My fingers curled themselves protectively around it, crushing it more. I pocketed the drawing.
Second period came and went. I did nothing but try to ignore the merciless pounding within my chest. After second hour was lunch. Yami had another class without me, but we met up in the open area of the lunchroom, since the band room was right behind it. During passing time, he began to inquire about the paper I twisted endlessly in my hands.
"What do you have?"
"Just... it's nothing, really." I put it in my pocket again. His face changed from curiosity to concern, and then it was sadness.
"Can't you show me?" Of course, he of all people should see something that I'd never show another soul, like a favorite card or a secret photograph of Téa. Not this, though.
"No, it's-"
"Yugi." He looked like I had slapped him. He looked like he wanted desperately to cry. It made me want to cry.
"I want to. I really do, but... It's... Maybe..." The bell rang. "You should get to class," I finished quickly, turning and running to my table. "I'm sorry," I called behind me, but my only listeners were in the teenagers among me.
Joey strutted past our table, knowing he was late. Without saying anything, I handed him the wrinkled paper. "What?"
"To Yami."
"To Yami. Got it." He went to band. He wouldn't look, so I didn't need to tell him not to.
It was lunch time. I didn't eat. I was starving, but I couldn't eat.
Third period dragged on, but luckily a sad, morbid World War I movie pulled me away from myself for a good hour and a half. The hero died in the end. His actor was terrible.
The bell rang, which meant Yami's lunch period was just drawing to a close and he could be anywhere in the school. I went to my locker and removed my white overcoat and blue scarf. Just before closing it, I felt his presence to my left, staring down at me. I slammed the metal door as hard as my arm would allow and buried my face in the coat draped across my arms.
"Yugi," he said in the kindest voice.
Blindly, he led me by my arm to a staircase, or, more accurately, the area under the staircase. I dropped to the floor in a sloppy kneel. Something cold poked at my forehead, so I looked up slowly. A banana? Yami stood above me, smiling wonderfully, handing me a piece of fruit. Through the tears that I hadn't noticed until then, I smiled and laughed, taking it gratefully. I ate it.
As I leaned back to toss the peel into a nearby garbage can, I asked him, my voice quivering. "So you d-don't huh-hate me?"
He kneeled briefly to hug my shoulders, answering in that same kind tone, "No."
The bell rang. We went our separate ways to fourth, and last, period. Me to orchestra and he to English. By the end of the school day, I sat on a table in the lunchroom, the orchestra room being too close. Soon I spotted Yami coming towards me, removing his backpack to set on the table. From it, he took the crumpled paper, made sure I saw that he had folded it up, and relocated it into the back pocket of his uniform pants. I smiled uneasily, waiting for my heart to self destruct.
I grabbed my coat and bag, walking past him and toward the auditorium, avoiding the bulldozers this school calls upperclassmen. Yami followed suit, dropping his bag when I did, both backstage. Our roles in the play were so small, the theatre company didn't even need us most of the time. "Let's go up to the catwalk," he said, obviously hinting mischief. He loved the catwalk more than any other place in the school. It was old, but looked new since the wood pathway across had been rebuilt. The view of the stage was perfect, but anyone up there was invisible due to the glare of the stage lights right in front of it. A scavengers paradise- it had chairs, wrappers, cigarettes, cigarette butts, pop cans, bottles, and chains. The heavy chain I wear the Puzzle on came from a dangerous expedition on the catwalk. It was the dusty, dark, most mysterious place, and no one went up there except us and our close circle of friends. Joey and Mai even stayed up there for a whole orchestra concert. Rumors are still flying.
Yami wanted to go up to the catwalk, just with me. Probably to disown me, I thought bitterly. We climbed the treacherously steep staircases until we were crawling on wooden planks to the middle. Exhausted, I stopped and sat, not wanting to fall into Yami's addicting gaze.
"Are you afraid of me?" he began.
"No, I'm... afraid of what you think."
"You know I'd never hurt you."
"I know. It's just... You..." Silent tears slid down from my burning eyes. I turned away despite the darkness. "I..." The longest pause imaginable followed; I couldn't think of a word to say.
"You'll always be my friend." He put his hand on my shoulder.
"And just my friend, just, right?" I whimpered, voice breaking. His hand went to mine.
"I'll be what you want me to be."
"You have to make your own decision about this."
He picked my hand up and pulled it to his heart, telling me, "This is my decision."
My eyes widened more than I thought possible, and I sniffed and pouted once before pouncing forward and throwing my arms around him. I squeezed him for all I was worth. He pulled me into his lap and hugged me in return.
Abruptly, reality slapped us. A gunshot. I sighed, rolling my eyes. The play was about World War II. Of course we heard gunshots. In seconds, we were stealing down the stairs, agreeing that we'd stay quiet about our discussion for the time being.
At the bottom of the last staircase, Yami stopped, keeping me from reaching the floor. "Yami, ..." I trailed off as he turned slowly, checking our surroundings of the backstage. From my post on the step, I was as tall as him, if not more, I noticed with a bit of amusement. I knew nothing at that moment; I was high on a thick sense of love and giddiness. I felt I could run for miles, dance for hours, and giggle for minutes on end.
Face to face with Yami in the dim light, I barely saw his eyes slide shut. A kiss. Not a long series of wet nibbles. Not a French kiss. Not a passionate movie display of feeling, but a simple, soft kiss that lasted all of four seconds. Mind blowing would be an understatement. I was soaring. I was amazed to think that could ever get better.
After he pulled back, looking at me and apparently contented, Yami stepped aside and we peeked onto stage at the rehearsal. Nazis and Jews here and there. Cap guns and glow in the dark yellow stars of David scattered among them. Into the empty audience we snuck, yelling at certain actors to speak up and to clarify words for others. I looked at Yami and he at me. We shared a smile and turned to watch the play.