Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to
Kazuki Takahashi.
——————
-'
It was one thing to decide never to gamble--or at least never to gamble using a particular bookie--again, and another to give up racing altogether. Tristan was totally committed to the former and never even thought of the latter. No one knew to yell at him for being an idiot--he was careful to keep his racing world and his school/friends world separate, with the sole exception of Joey, and even Joey knew very little about it and never bothered to attend.
So Tristan had no idea how Ryō managed to find out about the race that was held the next week. He had a pretty good idea why he was there, though. He glared at the other teenager as he balanced the on the bike, helmet in his hands. Ryō only smiled back, standing behind the other people who were watching.
Tristan yanked on his helmet and kicked the bike away from the curb, trundling it up to the starting point.
—
Winter break finally came, and with no school there were more races held with something resembling regularity. Tristan brushed off the first one, but when he asked whether a white-haired guy had showed up and was told no, he agreed to the second.
Ryō was there, lingering behind the rest of the crowd. Tristan briefly wished that he was Bakura, so that he would be able to justify throwing the helmet at him.
Yuho and Juan were racing first, with him going up against Alex and the two winners of those racing each other, so he was there when Anderson started hassling Ryō. Tristan deliberately looked away, hoping that if the other teen got shoved around enough he would take the hint that he didn't belong here and stay away. He listened to Anderson sarcastically ask what a girly-boy was doing annoying them, and agitatedly kicked his heel against his tailpipe.
At the sudden scream of pain, Tristan kicked the break stand down and shoved his way into the center of the small circle that had formed.
"Shit, you broke his arm!" Saori hissed.
"No, I dislocated his shoulder," Ryō replied. "It'll be fine when it's popped back into place."
"Asshole!" she snapped.
Ryō shrugged, hands in his pockets. "He started it."
By that time, Alex had walked into the circle and slapped Anderson upside the head. "Stop crying, you look like a woman," he said in annoyance, before starting to pull Anderson's coat off.
"Fuck you, it hurts," was the succinct reply.
While Alex was snapping the guy's shoulder back into the socket, Tristan took the opportunity to haul Ryō out of the crowd and halfway down the road.
"Christ, just go away before they kill you, would ya?"
"I doubt that's going to happen," Ryō replied mellowly.
"Just. beat. it," Tristan said tightly. "I don't want you here."
Bakura chuckled. "If I only went where I was wanted, Tristan, I would never go anywhere at all."
Tristan reflexively set his footing, but the thief was already gone. The other teenager pressed two fingers to his temple. "It makes me dizzy when you do that," Ryō complained under his breath.
Tristan paused, and then shook his head sharply. He rolled his shoulders beneath his jacket. "Look, just . . . just go away."
"Why?" Ryō asked.
". . . Because this isn't a game, all right? There's no cards or crazy people to possess, and I don't want that freak spirit of yours to kill anyone, so leave," he snapped.
Ryō tilted his head briefly, and made a note that Tristan had framed the majority of his reasoning in an antithesis of the world Yugi brought all of them into on a weekly basis.
"If I was Joey, would you mind me being here?" he asked.
Tristan paused. ". . . You're not him, so it doesn't matter. Split."
Ryō frowned. "You're being a jerk. I'm just here to give a friend support."
Tristan stared at him, before pressing a thumb to the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I might believe that, if I didn't think that other you is trying to drive me crazy and you're willing to help him."
Ryō smiled at that, and before Tristan could tell him to leave yet again, Alex called: "Oi, Taylor, you gonna forfeit?"
"I'm comin'!" he yelled over his shoulder, before looking back at Ryō. "Seriously. Leave. I'm not gonna say anything if you get beat up for what you did."
"It's cute that you're worried," Ryō said, before turning around and starting to walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Tristan watched him, blinking.
"Taylor!"
"Coming! Shut up!"
—
Tristan wasn't surprised when he lost the race. His concentration had been trashed. He was just glad he hadn't gotten himself killed in a stupid accident while in that state.
—
Ryō showed up at the next race, too. He was easier to spot this time, since everyone kept their distance. Tristan ignored him.
He showed up at the third one as well, and Alex told him he should stop letting Ryō know the locations.
"I'm not the one telling him," Tristan replied. "You wanna find out who is and bitch them out, be my guest. I don't like it either. --But he's a friend, so don't touch him."
"You've been losing since he started showin'."
"I know," Tristan snapped.
Alex shrugged then. "Better for me," he said before walking off.
When he lost the race again, Tristan didn't bother to watch the match between Alex and Anderson. He grabbed Ryō's arm and pulled him out of the crowd and over to his bike. "C'mon."
Ryō was getting a little tired of being yanked around all the time, but he just rolled his eyes and tugged his arm out of Tristan's grip.
Tristan drove Ryō back to his apartment. When the other teenager climbed off of the bike, Tristan removed his helmet so he could speak clearly, but stared forward at the street. "Look, I mean it. Stop showing up. You're like a friggin' bad luck charm."
"I'm not doing anything," Ryō replied, hands in his pockets. He was hunched over a little from the bitter cold of the windy ride. "Is just having school and racing collide that distracting for you?"
"Yes," Tristan replied flatly, since he doubted a lie would get him anywhere. "So stop coming."
"It's not me who's learning where you're racing and when," Ryō told him. "I just wind up there."
Tristan swore under his breath and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. He looked over at Ryō. "What the hell does he want! It'll take me a while, but I'll get the damn money back. Tell him he's not helping by throwing me off."
"He doesn't want the money," Ryō replied. "It's nothing as big as 48,500 yen."
Ryō pulled his hands out of his pockets and stepped forward, and Tristan tensed up when the other teenager grabbed his jacket collar. Before the brunet could shove him away, Ryō cupped the back of Tristan's neck with his free hand and leaned down to kiss him.
Ryō's hand was warm through his glove, he thought to himself, when it should have been cold.
It was a short kiss, just a press of the lips, and Ryō soon straightened up before Tristan could react. "It's nothing much at all," he said quietly, before letting go of the brunet's collar. He took a step back, then turned around and started walking toward the stairs. "Bye."
Tristan stared after him, scrubbing his lips off with the back of his hand. "What the fucking hell . . ." he muttered under his breath.
Despite the apparent confusion in his words, Tristan kicked away from the curb and drove off faster than he chose to acknowledge.
