Chaos: Mass Easter Update time! (grin) Well, it's Yami's turn again, and I've done my best to sort out the characterisation. This chapter is more miserable and kinda worrying than anything. I'm not sure exactly how everybody's going to react. Oh well; Happy Easter, everybody! Review responses!

Flower: Hey, did anybody actually know the movie quote last chapter? (Denial. The most predictable of human emotions). It's from the Matrix; Reloaded. (giggle) I just thought I'd slip it in and see if anybody got it. Anyone?

Shibby-one – Well, sorry to say, but I'm going to keep you in the dark a little bit longer. There's almost no reference to what happened to Yugi in this chapter, though there is the token illusion comment. (grin)

Kitkat – Well, Joey occasionally acts vaguely smart, so I enlarged upon that. In a big way. Give me a break; how am I supposed to write anything good from Joey's point of view? I like him, but he can be a bit clueless… I had to use the Matrix quote to give him a boost on the psychological front. (sweatdrop)

Darkmetaldragonfangs – Aaw, I don't really want to make people cry… I didn't realise it was that powerful! Well, I'm glad you liked it – in a sad way – and thanks for the beautiful reviews!

WEIRD – Well, it takes place after Duellist Kingdom, sorta… it's really rather AU. I quote Joey, 'well, the things I've seen in the duelling arena, all this stuff about the Shadow Realm?' And that's basically the only reference you get. So I may be able to slip Kaiba in somewhere… (grin) … actually, I do have something planned for him. Ssh!

Butterfly – Well, I wish I could bring him back – I even considered it – but I aim for this story to hit a chord because it could actually happen. In the sense that your best friend dies and you start losing it, not that you share a body with your twin. (though that would be kinda cool) So, sadly, I guess I can't bring him back. I'm dithering towards a certain horrific idea, though…

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Illusion

Chapter 3

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I'm leaning against a brick wall. Somewhere. There's a cold breeze, and it blows my bangs into my face. I don't care. I feel detached, separate from myself, treading air.

I never said I'd lie and wait forever,
If I died we'd be together,

And if I really concentrate, I can just about feel the smooth golden stone under my fingers, smell the faint tang of sand in the air. I can almost see the dark passageways, the comforting, familiar shadows and winding stairs.

And I can almost sense him there in the centre of it all, arms held out to me and laughing, telling me that it was all a joke, that he was never gone for a second and I was being silly to think that he would ever leave me alone.

But there's only the rough cold brick beneath my palms, and the smell of a humid pressure that comes when it hasn't rained for a week or more. My eyes are shut wistfully, but the illusion is gone - swept away in the cool breeze.

He's not waiting for me; my soul room is empty, abandoned by both the souls that once trod there. I'm all alone. There is no joke. No bad dream. It's all just an illusion.

I'm lost. And not only in the physical sense, far from home. Lost without him; I'm not meant to lead his life. My own purpose is swallowed up by the pretence, by the endless sick fantasy I have to live with. I hate this. I hate it all. I hate everything!

You are,
Never coming home,
Never coming home,

I'm dimly aware of punching the wall, a ridiculously small blow against the cement's mocking strength. It always goes like this; similar thought track, similar violence, similar hate.

Because hate is all I have left, and it helps an infinitely small amount, deadening the pain and the sickness, and making me feel alive with the passion of it. But then again, it's like a drug; it soon fades, and the wasteland left behind is worse than before.

Vicious cycle. The world must be testing me, ripping away everything I care about and laughing at me, lying in the gutter, trying to pick up the pieces that are slipping through my fingers like silk. Pieces that stab like daggers as they fall away, so that my hands are cut and I don't want to try again for fear that they'll hurt me even more than before.

The sick loneliness is the worst. Something that nothing outside my mind can cure, that has nothing to do with my feelings. Because I - we - got used to supporting two souls in one body. It was exhausting at first, but gradually the new effort transformed into a welcoming presence, a comforting warmth, like a heavy coat that you get used to the weight of and miss when it's gone. That's how I feel; alone, cold, and oddly light. I drift away once again...

Gasp. Draw in breath. Come back to myself.

And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever ever...

It's always like this. Where am I now? How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? I keep detaching myself, leaving my - his - body on autopilot, but the empty void is no better than the real world, because I'm still alone and it's still cold. There's no comfort anywhere.

I'm sure this is supposed to scare me.

It's surprising how little I care - this should be dangerous, I should tell someone, I should do something about it. But what's the point, when it makes no difference to what I feel or how I act?

I know this place... I've been here before. In a different world, in a different time that's so far from today. Outside the side exit of the school, with the steady thump of the music in the night and the warmth of two souls.

A crisp packet tumbles past, caught by the breeze, playing its part in the desolation. This is all like some over-exaggerated tragedy film - at any minute the hero will dissolve into grief, fall dramatically to the floor and cry at the sky for respite, the music will climax and lightning will crash emotionally in the background.

Hah. This world is too washed out and quiet for such things, and life never works out like a movie with a happy ending and the lost one returning from beyond the grave, the hero healing and resurrecting the broken shards of friendship.

Nothing works out that way. Life won't stop and wait for one person.

Ever...
Get the feeling that you're never
All alone and I remember now

I sigh. I have to break out of this depressing philosophy, break the monotony and think straight for once, forcing my mind onto the false tracks that I've taught myself to follow.

I can go home now that I know where I am. Grandpa will be worried, and I have homework to do, probably. I guess I must be hungry; I'll apologise for being away, then make a sandwich and go to my room to write essays and work out maths problems with the meagre store of knowledge I've built up.

While I weep behind the mask.


If I fall…
If I fall…

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Yu-gi-oh! and all affiliated characters and trademarks are copyrighted to Kazuki Takahashi. This story is unofficial.

Song lyrics; Ghost of You, by My Chemical Romance

Reviews are appreciated.