A/N:
Wow. It's the last chapter. Damn. Wow. I mean, wow. Everything I want to say will be at the end of this chapter. And in this very long chapter, I will indirectly refer to earlier chapters. And if I see necessary, I will borrow entire parts. However, I will not say anywhere that it is referring to an earlier chapter. You will just have to remember, I guess. I also just want to let you know of something I think. Unlike most stories, the ending is written for the story. However, after serious consideration, I had decided that I have written this story for the ending. You will hopefully see what I mean when you are done with this chapter. For now, enjoy!
IMPORTANT NOTES!
In the beginning, I am pretty sure that, like the bad author I was back then, I forgot to write where this fiction is based in. Most probably presumed it was Japan. It is actually the United States, in an imaginary place somewhere near New York City. It wasn't important until this chapter, so I would like to clear it up.
Remember, the marriage ring goes on your least dominant hand. If you write with your right hand, your wedding ring goes on the left. If you write with your left, the opposite is true.
Disclaimer:
I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, nor do I own any of the characters in the show. If I mention some other things in this chapter, they also don't belong to me. Actually, I don't even fully own this story. My third is only the plot. The other two thirds, which consist of this story's heart and soul, belong to you, the readers and my editor. Without you, this story would be nothing.
This will be a song ending. The lyrics are from Louis Armstrong's, "What a Wonderful World." I suggest this song to everyone. It truly is a masterpiece and has been one of my favorite songs for over five years.
Without further ado, here is the final chapter to 'It's a Wonderful World', previously known as "Radiant Cuts.'
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Returning Home
-ooo0oo0o0oo0ooo-ooo0oo0o0oo0ooo-ooo0oo0o0oo0ooo-ooo0oo0o0oo0ooo-ooo0oo0o0oo0ooo-ooo0oo0o0oo0ooo-
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom, for me and you
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
The slow, gentle jazz tune drifted out from the horizontal slits on the dashboard. The music twirled around inside the car, bouncing against the closed, clean windows. After hitting the impenetrable pane of glass, the soft, almost lullaby streamed around in the air, falling invisibly to give warmth to the space between the squashy cushions and the creaks of the bolts, welts and nuts holding this automobile together. Did it mix with the carbon monoxide or did Louis Armstrong's sweet lyrics keep themselves separate from the poisonous gas; I did not know. I could see neither, only feel it in the depths of every one of my organs.
I burned the CD from a random acquaintance I had met in my travels. The entirety of it only contained a single song, the song that played at this very moment. In this sitting, I probably heard it about ten times. Though this may sound idiotic, I had to make sure this, this song, this song was the last thing I heard.
I may have listened to this melody too many times. Instead of hearing the great Armstrong singing, I could only hear my dark, my lovely dark's voice playing out each syllable. His almost monotone voice, so different from mine, rang in my ears, which resulted in the tearing of my heart. On several words, the voice would change pitch perfectly on all the right words to bring the song even closer to my soul.
Currently, I sit in my car or rather, Ya-Yam- his car. Hmm, after ten years, I still can't say his name. Still, I am now here in his car, in the garage I rent from a neighbor, with all the windows rolled up as tightly as I could. There is a plug in the exhaust pipe, trapping the carbon monoxide I was concerned with earlier inside the vehicle. Scratching once on his tan skin, I sank deeper into the driver's seat. Hmm, after ten years, I still often consider this body his.
I see skies of blue, and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world
Today is the decennial of his death. Along with his life, my own was taken. I chose today for the simple reason that I have decided I can no longer take it. Any of it.
I cannot remember the exact happenings of the day I decided to end my life, but 'failed', if you can even call it that. But I am sure that Ryou had called the ambulance; I heard his meek voice in the kitchen. And I do remember hearing the sirens, yelling and footsteps, and ignoring all the noise. And I can still feel the strong hands of some emergency worker pulling me from Bakura, taking me out as they brought in a stretcher and a black body bag.
No one could truly believe what happened when I directly told them. None took it as a joke, but as a nightmare. Ah, a nightmare. I still find it so silly and so childish to resort to blaming any idea of such devastation on our malicious subconscious.
But the second they were dropped to the realization that I, whoever I was then and am now, was not my dark, there was an almost amazing difference in reaction. For about a month, most of my friends would not look into my crimson eyes. They could talk to me in only whispers and could walk only on the tips of their toes if I was in sight. The only exceptions were, obviously, Seto and Bakura. They treated me as they did the Pharaoh when I was in a coma. Or at least, they tried. I would not let anyone within a yard of myself.
Even at the funeral of my adopted father, in his hometown somewhere in Japan, travel expenses covered by Seto, I didn't let anyone comfort me in anyway. The same was true at 'Yugi Mouto's' Scattering of the Ashes in Egypt, close to where Bakura said the Pharaoh's real tomb was. We needed to use my old name simply because anyone other than someone from, or close to the gang, who knew about the yami's secret, would not understand and would get curious. We, or rather I, had my original promise ring grinded into fine, silver dust, mixing it into the ashes.
Even though my writing hand had flipped to my right, therefore making the finger the promise ring belonged to on my right, I always put it on my left. Always. No one asked for the reason behind it.
This separation stopped when the gang began to act more civil around me, as if I was a person rather than a napping child. The second I realized this, that my loved ones were trying to go back to how it was, I fled from my apartment above the Game Shop to Bakura's house and flung myself into the tomb robber's more than willing arms. He told me repeatedly that this is the way my lover had wanted it. That this was the way things were 'supposed to be.' That my other half was gone, and I needed to live on in his place, if necessary. That I no longer had my dark.
I refused this acceptance that my dark was stolen from my grasp. I am certain that I yelled some nonsense at him, hit him squarely in the face, and ran to his kitchen. I ripped the utensil drawer open, sending several of the silver forks and spoons to the ground. I took my very favorite piece of silverware and brought it to the middle of my forearm. I clearly heard the grave raider scurry to the room I was standing in from the living room. And right then, right at the time when Bakura was trying to reach the kitchen before I did something drastic, I very well could have killed myself. Killed myself to join my guardian. But alas, I couldn't.
Why? There were two reasons. First, I could not bring myself to mutilate the glorious bronze skin. Though I might have been living in this body, it was still the Pharaoh's. It would not have been right for me to harm it in anyway.
But I did not slice my arm for the more important reason. I did not deserve to die. No matter how much I wanted to be taken away from this Godforsaken place and brought to the eternity of painless life in my heaven, I didn't deserve it. I was the cause of my soul mate's death. Most would consider this worse than just being a murderer. I would suffer more on Earth, alone in a mass of people. Even if my dearest friends were in this mass, I would still be alone if I did not have my counterpart at my side.
That loneliness in a mass of people is one of the most depressing feelings I have felt yet. There are some far worse, but it is still horrible. What was worse was the feeling of how cold my bed was during the night. Before, I had my dark keeping me warm from the blackness of the Witching Hour, just as he said he did. But now, my mattress was so cold. No matter how many blankets, it was always so cold.
Bakura wouldn't let me go back home. Well, more like apartment. I had no home; Just a place to live in. Homes make you feel whole. No matter where I was, I would never get to feel that. So, he fixed up the guest bedroom that he never bothered to decorate. The tomb robber and I would work in the Game Shop while the gang still in school went to learn. And even though we both knew about the shortcut through the alleyway, the one created by the space between two, beautiful, graffiti-covered buildings, neither of us dared to take it. The one time I accidentally walked by it, I could only smell the urine and garbage, as well as the alcohol on Keith's breath, the blood I spilt and the seed that we both released. I vomited as a brown-striped, orange cat watched and then, I went back on my way.
In the beginning, I would often come to my fellow hikari's apartment early after one of my nightly walks, to hear him and his dark making love. I would politely close the door, and wait about an hour or more for them to finish. They would have hated for me to know what they were doing. They would have felt guilty. To tell the truth, no one out of the entire gang, except Bakura, of course, would show any affection near their partner around me. And with the grave raider, the most I saw was a hug or a chaste kiss. They tried to hide it, all afraid and guilty, a bit ignorant too. My friends probably thought that I wouldn't understand the guilt. Ha. I, me, wouldn't have understand what guilt was. That is remarkably hilarious.
Now, imagine this. Imagine what difference in the household was made when I told Bakura and Ryou what time I decided to kill myself. Imagine how quiet the dining room was as my two friends realized that if they had only come earlier, rather than having sex, they could have prevented this all from happening. Imagine the bowl in Ryou's hand slip out of his grasp; an intricate web of cracks appearing on the curved surface before shattering into pieces. Imagine the same, fair boy stoically leave the room and retrieve a broom to sweep up the fragments of the bowl. Imagine this boy, after sweeping the mess up, leave the room only to return with another bowl, setting it down in front of me before sitting down to eat and chatter about some unrelated subject. And although I want nothing more to tell what Bakura looked like during those moments, I cannot. I didn't look his way at all. But I do know one thing. Never again do I want to hear him cry like that.
After that, even when I would come back early, I would never catch those two in the act. I thought it was just bad timing. I was too late or something. But after five months with me coming back to the apartment to never once hear anything, I felt oddly about the predicament. I didn't ask them what was up, since I could not see how anyone, maybe only Bakura himself, could pull that off without looking like a creep.
My thoughts were concluded when, on a night shortly after Ryou's high school graduation, I came back to something close to a fight between my friends. They were in their bedroom, the door probably open, and they did not know I had come in. The two were talking. From what I got from their conversation, Ryou had attempted to sleep with his fiancé. But the tomb robber had refused. They both mentioned they were guilty many, many times. And they mentioned that they loved each other with all their hearts.
But still, that devastating emotion of feeling as you had done something wrong was stopping Bakura from being able feel safe being intimate with his light.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
Silently, head bowed forty-five degrees, I stood at the doorframe. My hand clenched tightly around the doorknob. Sweat softened my palm's skin. My breathing involved desperate heaves for air. Tears hazed my vision, which was directed at the edge of the hallway.
A door slamming, whether said door had been to open or shut is unknown, echoed through the apartment, as well as footsteps. Distantly, I heard my fellow hikari's sobbing. From the way the volume of his cries decreased, becoming mute as another door was swung open and closed, I suspect he left his bedroom, escaping his lover and the rejection being near him created.
Bakura rounded the hallway corner, his spine straight as a post. His corn silk hair whisked gently as he turned out of the passage to the main room. His seemingly moonlit complexion had lost its normal glow, leaving behind a ghostly paleness. The dark's cheeks, however, were a sickly pink, as if he had a fever or something of the sort. The grave raider's grey eyes were dull and looked more like real stones than ever before.
Halfway through the room, he finally noticed my existence at the entrance to his home. Bakura focused on my face, not my eyes, just the general direction of my head. His face contorted, revealing an almost unreadable expression. It was unreadable, but not because of its apathy. No, apathy was far from it. There were too many things in that one expression, sending me a million messages. He was begging for mercy, repent, explanation, spite, understanding and forgiveness, all at the same time.
A line of liquid crystals curled down his flushed, left cheek.
Just as I was about to say something, what, I don't know, he walked forward. The expression fleeted from view, the tomb robber grabbed his coat from a hook next to door and, still without a word, slipped by me and into the staircase.
According to the small clock near a window, there was no movement in the entire apartment for another ten minutes. When I broke the stillness, it was slow and unsure, like the first steps of a newborn deer. After putting my jacket on the same hook Bakura had taken his from, I made my way through the apartment, to my room, I repeatedly played with the ring on my left hand. My dark's nervous habits didn't seem to leave his body when he himself did.
A sigh shying out of my lips, I opened my bedroom door. As light poured into the darkness, a strange sight met my eyes. In the middle of my bed, there laid a pale hikari. Even in the light, his seemingly moonlit complexion had lost its normal glow, leaving behind a ghostly paleness, the light's cheeks, however, were a sickly pink, like the complexion his dark had worn as he had exited the apartment.
No pillow supported his head. Instead, in his frail arms, he clung onto a pillow, giving it the love and closeness he wanted to give his other half. His face was tear-stained, faint lines of salt weaved in and out down his flesh. There were small, damp circles on the pillowcase.
As I stepped next to the bed, I toed off my shoes, slipping off my button-up shirt at the same time. I then removed my jeans, throwing all my clothes into the hamper once I was through.
Clad in only an undershirt, socks and boxers, I climbed into my bed. As soon as I touched the mattress, Ryou was startled awake. He didn't get up. Instead, he stared emptily at me bringing the thin blanket over us both. I pulled the pillow out of his grasp, a hard task, mind you, and brought it under his head. He seemed to be upset at the absence of something to latch unto.
After ten minutes, I was still in bed, laying down next to Ryou, looking into his grey eyes. Neither of us was sleeping.
"Go to sleep, hikari." I said softly.
"You."
"I'll go to sleep once you do." Ryou smiled, but made no effort to sleep.
I watched my fellow light. I pushed a white bang behind the boy's ear and began to rub his jawbone. The boy closed his eyes but didn't fall asleep. Then, a thought came to me.
I put one hand on the other hikari's back and pulled him closer. Ryou knitted his eyebrows in confusion. I only brought the pale teen closer, so the light's head was on my torso, along with most of his chest, which was equal in length to mine. I made sure that only our hips didn't touch. I could tell we both felt a bit strange, both wanting the other to be our love.
But Ryou finally fell asleep, hugging my waist.
And to think, all of this was my fault.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
It was a huge shock to everyone but myself that Bakura and Ryou had decided to postpone their wedding as the light's birthday came around the corner. They, of course, had no clue that the latter of the couple slept in my bed. Nor did they know that the two had not gone farther than a peck on the cheek for over six months. And this was all at my hands. I had ruined a relationship that wasn't exactly pure, due to its abusive beginning, but was still perfect. I had ruined yet another flawless yami and hikari relationship, the other being the one between my other half and myself.
And deep inside, there was a little piece of me that was, happy I did. It was that part envious of my two friends. Envious that they had each other, and I had no one. But even with that dark feeling, I did not want this. This was something no one deserved.
I confronted Bakura. There were no tears spilt. No harsh words. No apologies. I just told him that it was not his fault. None of it was. He quickly accepted my thoughts after I said that. When Ryou returned from college that day, I left the two alone. Ryou never slept in my room again. Many more times did I have to wait outside the apartment door after one of my nightly walks. The two were 'catching up', as Bakura put it.
It was a huge shock to everyone but myself that Bakura and Ryou had decided to reset their wedding to its original date as the light's birthday came even closer around the corner.
Seto and his vast amounts of money paid for everything. Though Bakura and Ryou objected, multiple times, the brunet would brush it off, saying that he had too much money anyway. He flew everyone invited to Massachusetts in his private planes, the closest place where same-sex marriage was legalized. He would have sent another one to get Ryou's father, but the man was terribly busy with a dig. Only the tomb robber was upset by the fact he wouldn't be able to come.
The wedding was small. Seto, Joey, Anzu, Duke, Honda, Serenity, Mokuba and Rebecca, were there of course. Seto also had many of the gang's family members flown over, mainly those who really knew Ryou. In reality, people who knew the younger groom personally were still most of the people.
It was quite lovely. Joey was Ryou's best man, and I was Bakura's. Though I am pretty sure that the grooms probably were hoping for the only one of us missing to be the tomb robber's best man and me the hikari's; no one said anything.
There was only one sad moment, one that will surely be one of the most memorable. Seto took Ryou's father's place and walked the boy down the aisle. Just before he handed Ryou off, the brunet stopped. He actually turned to the hikari and said one sentence, a short one at that. And Seto whispered it, trying to make sure only the hikari heard. Unfortunately, a suppressed sob, from what I could tell, caused him to say it a bit too loud. Only the people at the altar, which included Joey and me, heard it.
He said, "Don't ever hurt him."
To the priest, it must have been odd that Seto would say that to the littler groom, as apposed to the one that looked like he could do more damage. But to Bakura, Ryou, Joey and me, well, we knew what it meant. The CEO wasn't worried about Bakura hurting Ryou. Why should he be? He knew that the tomb robber hated knowing that he ever hurt his lover. Instead, he was concerned about Ryou harming Bakura. Not even that. He was concerned with the hikari hurting the yami, yet another thing that is my sole responsibility. The five of us from the gang immediately went about as if nothing had happened. But by the tears that rolled down Joey's face, and by the way Ryou's eyes droped, and by the way that, just for a second, Bakura's silvery bangs shadowed his face, it was obvious that everyone took what Seto said in the same way as I did.
I watched the wedding through veiled eyes. Even with that awkward moment caused by Seto, as the priest joined Bakura and Ryou in matrimony, I could see how much the two loved each other. Yes, I knew it for as long as these two were together. But now, in this extremely romantic setting, I could see it even more. The two looked at each other, with soft, gleeful eyes. These eyes were meant only for that one person. The person who would love you, cherish you, look upon you like you were everything, make you feel like that world would stop revolving around the sun if you were sad.
Seto's plane brought everyone back to our city after the reception, except for Bakura and Ryou, whom the past Pharaoh's head priest sent to a mystery location for their honeymoon. The second I returned to Bakura's apartment, I packed away my clothes. I was never going to have someone to share those love-filled gazes with. Not now. I lost my soul mate.
I didn't see how I could live with the newly married couple. Yes, I care for them deeply. But I would never stand seeing their love; the type of love that existed between light and dark, the love that I would never have, every day.
I went back to my old apartment above the Game Shop. I packed away a few other things, mainly my Duel Monsters deck. Then, I took whatever money I had put aside from working at the Game Shop. Before I left, I got several new cards. Without saying goodbye to any of my friends, I got into the very car I am in now, and drove off.
The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people walking by
I drove, and drove. The road was an unwinding path, forever telling me to move forward, farther away from the very people who loved me. I drove to Boston, where I rented a small, dingy apartment and the garage this car is parked in from a neighboring house. I knew that the money from my Game Shop savings was not enough. Not enough at all. And that is precisely why I had brought my deck. I was going to make a living the only way I knew how.
No one would accept me into even a minor tournament, at first. They thought that I was some rookie off the streets, who was trying to bite off the past King of Games', meaning the Yugi Mouto, technique. They also made several comments of "taking it too far with the hair". These people had no clue that I was that King, but it wasn't like it was their fault.
No one from the gang had yet to contact me. And I am sure that Seto could have found me in seconds. I have a feeling that Bakura knew exactly where I was, and was holding everyone else back. He did have the ability to see me. He had been deeply understanding in the past, so I shouldn't have been surprised.
I got them to accept me when I told them the truth; that I was the past King's adopted brother. Technically speaking, my dark had fought most of those duels, thereby making him the true King. But that is beside the point. Sam, the first tournament host that accepted me, got his resources and checked if what I said was true. Of course, it was. I was entered into one of his smaller league gaming convention type things first, gaining only a hundred to five hundred dollars a game. When Sam saw that I was 'mysteriously' as good as my brother, he let me play in the contests with much larger payouts.
At first, I competed under my dark half's name. But it began to be suspicious when I would dramatically flinch as the announcer called 'my name' or I would pale when I would see myself on the big screen, playing in my lover's body. To solve my dilemmas, I changed my name to Damien Allertse. Then, I dyed all of my hair black, chopping most of the luxurious strands to about an inch down from the top of my neck. I wore brown colored contacts to hide the beautiful, crimson irises. It burned every time I inserted the thin, flexible circles to smolder the blazing flames, but my soul scorched even more when I looked into any reflective plain. I hated changing my dark's appearance, but just as I cannot live now because I cannot stand doing so, I could not live seeing the constant reminder of the sacrifice he had to make.
I always wore a long sleeve shirt when I dueled, or whenever I left the house.
Even with spending so little of my money I won, I would still need to compete ever few months since the payouts, though large, would never be enough to last long. Ever since Pegasus and Seto's tournaments, there haven't been any 'million-dollar' rewards.
After five years of dueling my way through these many contests, I, as expected, got to the final round. I had been surprised I had competed, due to the reward only being two hundred and fifty dollars.
Usually, I don't even acknowledge whom I am playing against. Tuning out everything else, I just watch the small screen in front of the platform and place my cards down. This opponent was exceptionally difficult. He played with such strategy and intelligence. His strength frustrated me; so instead of toying with him as I usually do, I beat him quickly. Whoever this person was, I respected him. I looked up, only to see two, very familiar aquamarine orbs staring back.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
"Dark Magician, take out his monster, and with it, the rest of his life points." I said with such a monotonous tone that makes me wish I hadn't. If I don't give these people a show, they would never want me to play again. If that happened, what would I do to make money? I had no other real skills. But by the way the fans in the small stadium cheered, I guess no one noticed.
As the holograms of my Dark Magician and the opponent's Battle Raider fought, my own monster shattering the other, I could hear the announcer's booming, generic voice grace over the enclosure from the speakers. "With this attack, folks, Damien Allertse has, once again, slaughtered his opposing duelist." His non-coherent ramblings received no more of my attention. Too many times have a heard the same praising. Too may times have I beaten some random up-and-coming champion.
But this time, it was different. I actually had to use my best tactics to defeat him. I was sunk into a pit of nostalgia when I was reminded of the times when my dark counterpart and I dueled, side by side, to crush our enemies. And even if, for a second, my memory had to be bitterly jogged to the occasions when I was happy with my dark, I still loved thinking of it. I had to respect this person. I mean, it was rare for anyone to get a glimmer of emotion shinning in me in a match.
I tilted my head up from my cards placed upon the ledge. Across the dueling station, my eyes lingered on the image of my opponent. I felt my face freeze, my body tense, and the breath leave my lungs.
After all this time, he still had the same chestnut tresses; some clumps of strands longer, framing his high cheekbones perfectly. There were the same azure eyes, staring unblinkingly into my face. There was the same demeanor demanding respect, the brunet's broad shoulders squared. His face held a rarity of all his expressions, something close to exhaustion.
I wanted to turn my gaze away, but I couldn't. Even as the platform I was standing on flinched into motion, lowering to the ground. The stage obstructed my view, but I still stood stiff.
"And yet again, Damien Allertse's unbeatable streak has conquered his opponent! An almost unbelievable task, folks, seeing whom he was facing today!" The generic announcer yelled at the fans with such excitement, a Chihuahua would be jealous. "Though he swore he would never pick up a deck again over eight years ago, the great Seto Kaiba has been joining as many tournaments in the last four months as possible. His reasons are unknown, but I like to think he wanted to see if anyone could ever be as great as his one of his best friends and rivals, our most prized King of Games in Duel Monsters history, Yugi Mouto. If Damien Allertse was able to beat Kaiba with such speed, imagine what he would have done against Yugi! What an awesome match, folks!"
When the platform twitched again, this time to stop, I twirled around. Sweat welted at the base of my dyed hair. Stepping down onto the stadium's tiled floors, a large group of reporters swarmed me.
"How do you feel, Damien?"
"How did you see that attack coming from the-"
"Did you feel any hesitation during the match, Damien?"
"How do you feel, Mr. Allertse?"
I clenched my jaw, trying to breath and make an attempt to calm myself down. These people always came. No matter how many duels I won effortlessly, they always came, asking the same questions again and again. Annoying fucks. All I wanted to do was leave as soon as possible.
Pushing slightly, I was able to get through most of them. In an effort to seem more likable to the public, I said my apologies.
"Sorry, but I am in a bit of a rush. I really just need to accept my prize money and leave." I exclaimed as I walked past several more reporters. Just as I was at the stand where the tournament hosts stood, a short, plump, balding man with bottle-capped glasses constricted me from reaching my goal.
"Excuse me, mister. I really must rush-"
Just as I was about to pass the man, he spoke up, or more like croaked. He had such an ugly voice. "Pardon me, Damien Allertse, or should I say, Yami Atemu." I halted. No one was allowed to call me, of all things, that. "May I ask you a question?"
What a strange tactic to get my attention. This man had balls. Forgetting for a moment escaping, and the person I was trying to escape, I responded apathetically. "Make it quick."
Immediately, the reporters went quiet. If they were getting any information tonight, it was from my answer to this little man. He coughed into his hand to clear his throat, retrieving a notepad from his orange and green tweed jacket.
"I'm Donnie Victorio from 'Who's Who and What's What'." Damn. The one person I talk to is from the tabloids, and from a tabloid with an extremely long name. Damn. "My team and I did some very deep background research on you, especially your high school years. Is it true that you were Yugi Mouto's adopted brother?"
I wonder how my face looked like in that moment. All I knew was that I felt cold. Very cold. And numb.
Sam had not told anyone about my past. He didn't think it would be good for sales to have the whole world knowing that I lived with the prior King of Games. And judging how quiet the entire stadium was getting, I had a feeling everyone had just heard.
"Since you are his brother," Donnie continued, though I had, in no way, responded to his earlier comment. "You probably knew him best. Well, you should know him best. Rumors from your old high school companions said that you were in quite a serious relationship and were, intimate, with the King. Is this true? Did you love him?" A collected sense of shock and murmurs slapped the crowd.
My head began to hurt. So much. So very much.
"There were also some rumors that you missed the last few weeks of school, as well as your brother. Care to fill us in? Does it have to do with the scars on both his and your arms? And what are those scars? Do you practice self-mutilation? If so, why? Do you find it arousing, or do you just like the pain? Please, fill us in." I am sure that, if the guards weren't in as much shock as the rest of the people inside the stadium, they would have dragged this ruthless man out.
"There is much mystery surrounding the death of Yugi Mouto." If there had been anyone speaking before, they were silent now. "But we received information from an inside source that our King of Games had died at his own hands. Why would our cheery Yugi ever have any reason to commit suicide?"
I gaped at Donnie. I blinked to try to hold back tears. How could anyone ask these questions? "You have no clue what you are talking about. You don't know what we've been through. How dare you ask such personal questions? You have no clue how much he went through for me. How-" I said, sounding much like a child arguing with his parent. I stopped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see a familiar mop of blond hair.
"Ah, Joseph Wheeler, the underdog duelist. You are one of Yugi and Yami's close friends, as well as your partner and lover, Seto Kaiba. Care to tell us some of this story?" Donnie asked, not a hint of regret or hesitance in his voice.
"Well, Mr. Victorio," Joey's voice had deepened slightly. But it was still pretty much the same. "I can answer some. It is true that the past King of Games and the one who stands before you are adopted brothers. They loved each other like they would no one else. How much they loved each other, meaning if their love was past just that between brothers to that of lovers, is none of your business. As is everything else you asked. Now, I must take Damien with me. Thank you."
Suddenly, I was being steered to the exit. Everyone parted to create a walking path for Joey and myself. I allowed myself to be pushed outside the silent stadium, out the exit and out into the street. We walked for several more blocks, finally coming to a park. We entered and sat down on a bench.
As soon as we sat, Joey hunched forward, covering his forehead with his right hand. I couldn't help but notice the silver band he wore on his promise finger.
"I like the stubble." I said softly, referring to the handsomely unshaven jaw of my friend. He looked up at me, slightly smiling. His face resembled less of a puppy now that his features caught onto his adulthood. But his honey eyes held their old spirit.
"I like the hair. Though I think you went a little too far with the contacts." He whispered.
We both sighed.
"What, what should I call you? Do you mind if I called you Yugi?"
"Damien. Yugi no longer exists. You can call me Damien." He cringed slightly at my second sentence.
"Look, I know-"
"Puppy, stop." I bit my tongue as I heard the CEO's deep tone. He sounded like he had been running, probably jogging to this location after being mobbed by the press. The brunet stared down at me. He tried, several times, to say something, but would stop before anything really got out.
"Kaiba, if you want to say something, say it now. I have to collect my prize money. Need to pay the rent, you know." There was some surprise to hear me use Seto's surname.
The blue-eyed brunet sighed. He kneeled down in front on me, holding my chin in his hand. "Yugi." I glared at him at the use of my old name, but he didn't seem to care. "Yugi, we all know how much you miss him. You would probably think that we have no clue what we are talking about if we said that we felt the same way. I won't lie to you. No one will ever miss him like you do. But we, everyone back home, miss you. We worry about you so much. Please, come back. We will accept any changes that you have gone through. Just, just come back."
I had never seen Seto beg like this. The Yugi part of me wanted to go back to the comfort of friends, but the Damien side, a much greater side, told me that I didn't deserve to go back.
"Does the grave raider know you're here?"
Seto seemed unreeled that I changed the subject. His lover, however, was able to control his own emotions to answer. "Yes. He said that we could come. We wanted to come earlier, but he said-"
"What, that I wasn't ready? Well, he was right. I will never be ready to return." My voice faltered as I concluded the small argument inside my head. Damien had won. I was no longer this Yugi person. And by refusing to go back, I proved this point.
Joey closed his eyes painfully and tilted his head onto my shoulder, slightly nuzzling it.
"No." Seto said. His hand dropped from my chin to my lap, his head with it. Their reactions, though quiet and subtle, screamed to the world the pain I was causing. "He said we weren't ready for the response. He said we weren't strong enough. I didn't understand why he said such things. But now." The brunet with his face in my lap stopped talking. And though he made no noise, I could tell that he was crying.
So much pain, and it was my fault.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
Donnie was banned from visiting any of the tournaments I entered run by Sam. When the rest of the gaming strands heard of the little confrontation between Donnie and me, they also banned him, in fear of losing me as a player. So, I rarely saw him. All the other press must have decided that some subjects touched by the short tabloid worker were a bit too, well, touchy, and didn't dare ask me anything about my past.
And strangely, there were no questions directed toward what kind of love life I led. Though I would like to avoid answering something like that, it was still odd. I guess the reporters were afraid of another outburst similar to that toward Donnie. The only person to ever question me was some random little boy at the park, who recognized me from the television.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
Sitting on a bench, I had pushed myself so my spine was straight against the back of the wood. I had also allowed my body to fall limp. My legs were folded within each other, arms lying on top of my pants and my palms open to grab the sun's rays. The breeze laid soft kisses on my cheeks. My falsely brown eyes blinked gracefully as I scanned the park.
It was rare for anyone to ever bother me here. Outside the dueling station, I was an ordinary nobody. That is one of the reasons why I spent so much time here. It was peaceful. The only thing that would ever get me annoyed in this place was if a couple walked past, acting all lovey-dovey.
So, imagine my surprise when a young boy with jet-black hair began to run my way, his mother not far behind. When he reached me, he nearly exploded. "You are Damien, right? Right, you're the Damien?"
I nodded, causing him to erupt. "Told you, Mommy! I told you! I told you! You know, I am your biggest fan! I watch all your duels! Mommy, I told you it was him! I told--" The lady who I presumed as his mother, placed her thin hand over his mouth, to silence him.
I flushed with the boy's excitement. His mother, out of breath, collapsed on the bench, next to me. She brought her struggling child onto her lap. In huffs, she said, "I am sorry. Nathan just got so excited. We ran almost halfway across the park. He was so sure it was you. This may be rude to ask, but do you mind talking with him for a bit? He practically idolizes you."
A cord of memory hit with the mention of the child's name. I half-smiled, looking back down to the boy. "It's okay. It's not everyday I get to met my number one fan." His wild hair almost reminded me of Mokuba's, only a bit more maintained. Nathan calmed down, in a few minutes, sliding out of his mother's grasp. He jumped onto the bench to the opposite side of the lady.
He stared blankly at me before saying, "Hi."
This kid held such childhood innocence. "Hello there, Nathan."
"What's your favorite color?"
This kid was also a bit random. "Crimson. It's a type of red."
"I like red too. Do you like hospitals?"
"Not really."
"The chicken or the egg?"
"The dinosaur."
"What's your favorite food?"
"Honey."
"Honey is not food."
"Yes, it is."
"No, it isn't."
"Yes, it is."
And just as I thought he was going to counter, he said something I was not at all prepared for. "Do you have a girlfriend?"
Nathan's mother gasped at her son's bluntness. "Nathan!"
"I only asked him a simple question. Do you have a girlfriend? I do. Her name is Mindy Mandy. She has nice teeth. And she has soft hair. Do you have one?"
I looked at Nathan, trying to figure out how I was going to explain this. I sighed, deciding on the way I was going to do it. I nodded.
"Really? What's her name?"
"His name was." I paused, sucking at my teeth before continuing. "His name is. Well, I called him Guardian. He was the most caring, nice and fun person I'll ever meet. And I love him very much." Behind my line of vision, I heard the boy's mother shift as she paid much more attention to this little chat I was having with her son.
"Him? Hmm. Well, can I see him?"
I sucked on my teeth again. "You see, Guardian is not really here any more."
"Where is he? Is he all the way in Mississippi, or Timbuktu or the North Pole?"
I found this awkward. How do I explain this to a child? Before I could find a way, I heard Nathan's mother speak. "I think Damien's friend is with your daddy, Nathan. Up in the skies. Am I correct?"
Without looking at the woman, I nodded. Nathan slowly did the same. "Oh." He whispered.
"Yeah. I miss him a lot. But I'll let you in a little secret." He smiled as I leaned forward, holding up my left hand. "You see, before he went away, he left this ring for me. When I wear this ring, I always know that I love him, and he loves me. We just have to wait a bit to see each other again. Do you understand?"
Nathan, with his non-changing, beaming smile, nodded. "Umm, excuse me, Damien. I would love for you to talk more with Nathan, but it's getting late."
Pouting, the jet-black haired youth jumped off the bench and next to his already standing mother. He waved his goodbye, and slowly walked down the path. His mother, however, stood still.
"I am sorry about your husband."
"Same here."
She smiled. "Don't be. It's been about two years."
I smiled right back. "It's been over five years for me."
"Oh."
"I suggest starting to try to catch up with Nathan. And make sure to tell him what an honor it was for me to meet him."
She nodded, turning in the direction her son walked off in, and began to walk in a light jog to catch up.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
I saw Nathan about a month after I was reunited with my two friends. A bit after that, I received the first letter.
I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do
They're really saying, "I love you".
For the years I had been living at my dingy apartment, I had never gotten mail, not counting flyers or bills. So when I opened my mailbox, I was in shock to see a lavender envelope, made from beautiful, delicate paper. I removed the envelope, along with the bills, and went to my living space. Placing the mail from the water and electric companies on a small, wobbly coffee table, I sat down on my single loveseat, carefully opening the envelope.
Inside, there were five pages of paper made like the envelope. Imprinted on it in pen was curvy script. Before reading, I looked who signed it. No other person than Bakura himself.
The entire thing was of what had happened in the past, how long had it been, about five years? Yes, when I got my first letter it had been a little over five years since I had moved away. It was all about the gang, except the ending. At the end, there was a paragraph, telling me what he knew I needed to hear.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
So, that's the roundup. Shame on me if I forgot to say something. We all miss you, Yugi. And just as Seto said, we are all willing to accept the changes in you. Don't worry. I will not waste my time asking you to come back. I had actually hoped that Seto would not have. I know that this is what you need. And even though they may think that you being around them will help, deep down, they know that this is how it should be. For you. We all still love you. We always will, little hikari.
He would be happy you're trying,
Everyone's favorite tomb robber,
Bakura
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
He would always end the letter with something like this. From that letter to the one I got yesterday, Bakura would conclude with something like this. And he would send one every three, four or five weeks, depending on how much had happened. And through his letters, I got to see how my friends had chosen their paths for life.
For the first couple of months, the members from my group of friends took turns running the shop. They all knew, however, that it would be stronger for the shop if there was only one person running it. Bakura did most of the work since he did not have college, nor did he have a company, like Seto and Duke.
Honda, however, spent the most time in the shop after the tomb robber. As he finished his third year of the college, he asked if he could run the Game Shop. The gang accepted, of course. To some of Joey's dismay, his little sister moved in with Honda above the Game Shop, since it was just above the shop for Honda, and it was closer to Serenity's school compared to her mother's house. When she was done with her schooling, actually getting her Bachelor's Degree, she decided that she was going to help with the shop. Six months after she received her Degree, she got pregnant. It was quite obvious who the father was, leaving behind an abashed Honda and an extremely angry Joey. Serenity gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. They named her Amber. Thankfully, Bakura wrote, she got her mother's hair. He also sent me a number of pictures. Amber is still quite pretty, now as a toddler.
Mokuba and Rebecca, after graduating high school, both went to the same university, somewhere in Pennsylvania. Seto pays for their off-campus apartment. He agreed to do so, under the conditions that they were more careful than his puppy's sister and her lover. Rebecca, who majored in technology, has a year left to receive her Master's. Seto, having seen how well the blonde was with computers in the past, promised her a job, which she is gladly studying for. The raven-haired Kaiba, who wanted to follow a medical career path, still has some more years to get his M.D./ Ph.D. They have plans on getting married, one day in the future. But for now, they are just trying to get their complete and necessary education.
After high school, Duke went to work on his own company, expanding it around the country. His game, Dungeon Dice Monsters, hit stores several years back. It was a huge success, even if it never did as well as the original Duel Monsters. The longhaired male and his girlfriend got married the same year Honda began working at the Game Shop. Anzu went to a college for the arts, with dancing as her major. She works on Broadway in New York City, and has been a glowing star in dance productions for years now.
Seto also went to work for his company right after graduation. He only really went to high school because he wanted to keep custody of his younger brother, which the courts wouldn't allow if he dropped out of school. And if it wasn't like his company could get any stronger, it did. Even if electronic games were still Kaiba Corp.'s specialty, they also branched out to board games. His brown-eyed lover went to college, just as most of his friends had. Joey moved into the Kaiba mansion shortly after beginning his continued schooling, seeing as working to pay for his father's house was pointless, time consuming and unnecessary. He graduated in the same year as Anzu. He, to almost everyone's surprise, went to work as an elementary school teacher. Joey loved the job, saying that these years, as the children were developing into who they will be as adults, were the golden years. A couple of weeks after they came to see me, Seto proposed to his boyfriend.
Last year, they married. It was larger than Bakura and Ryou's wedding, mostly because the CEO was forced to invite some of the owners of companies he was friendly with. I was mailed an invitation, via Bakura. He said that I didn't need to come, that no one was pressuring me to. I seriously considered going, and wanted to so badly. But I felt that me being there would somehow contaminate the couple's marriage. I felt that I was just this man, sick with the plague. If I went around anyone, I would drag him or her into despair and misery. I had done so with all my friends, and my lover. With a woeful apology, I declined the offer.
The last of my friends were still happily married. The grave raider is a free-lance photographer. He sent me some of his favorite shots. They were actually quite wonderful. His photos got published in numerous books, magazines and many other places. Ryou, like Joey, also took up a job as a teacher. He however, studied to be a high school English teacher. Though they had been the first of the gang to get married, Bakura and Ryou were second to reach the parenthood stage. Serenity was more than halfway through her pregnancy when the two had started to consider adopting. It took them seven months, but the two finally decided to get a child for their own. I am pretty sure seeing baby Amber encouraged my friends to adopt.
The grave raider and his husband spent exactly twenty-three days looking for their child. On the twenty-third day, they came across a newborn. He was left abandoned in front of a hospital on a cold night. There were still some complications with the baby, but the doctors said that he would recover once properly nurtured. What caught my friends' attention, or at least Bakura's, was the baby boy's name.
Prior.
He remembered my dark mentioning that if he was to have a child, he would name him Prior, or if it was a girl, Deb. The tomb robber wrote this loosely in his letter. He didn't know that those were the names I would have named my own children, or that the Pharaoh wanted to name his children the same as mine. I had only thought, at that point, that I was the only one in my relationship with my dark that thought about those things. I thought only I planned for a future with him. Apparently, I wasn't alone. If only I had known earlier. Should have, would have, could have, but did not.
I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than I'll ever know.
There was one last person that Bakura wrote about. When he did, he used as few words as possible. His curvy script would claw into the paper. Once in a while, his pen would rip through the delicate sheet, especially when he wrote this person's name. It had been the same name that was carved into my old body's chest. Keith.
That man was caught, eight years after he raped me. Eight years. There had been many, many more attacks by him within that time. And out of those victims, only two people survived. These two people were the last attacked and I. This other man was an undercover cop, trafficking the streets and alleyways for drug dealers. Keith, bored and too poor to pay a hooker, jumped the cop. The cop knew how to defend himself. He arrested Keith that night.
Due to how many times Keith had killed, the courts wanted to be quick. But it had to be fair. The lawyers defending Keith, though probably feeling that the man deserved to be thrown into jail, had to do their job. They played the insanity defense. It was true; Keith was not all that sane. The reason for his insanity had to do to being raised in an abusive home. And by the proof they showed, it seemed like Keith might have been sent to a mental hospital, being released once he was seen sane, instead of rotting away.
I had asked Bakura, through the only letter I sent him, if I needed to come and to give my dark's accounts of what happened. He replied back, saying no. There was evidence that had not been shown, yet, that would totally switch the views of the court.
The evidence the tomb robber had spoken of turned out to be the cassette Detective Belleville had taped as I told him of the day Keith violated me. The defense played it for the entire court to hear. Every last second was played, according to Bakura. When I described the reason why I took flight from the safety of my house, the alleyway, the smell rolling off of Keith, the way he raped me, how I took comfort in this pig of a man when all I wanted was to be with my other half; it was all played.
And according to Bakura, there had not been a single person not convinced Keith did not deserve anything less than the death sentence, for not only my rape, but the countless others.
And that was it. The man that started the end for me had been executed. The man that had appeared in my life a bit too early was gone. What do I mean by too early? I had scanned over the Pharaoh's memory a while ago. I was afraid of going too deep for comfort before. Anyway, I saw my dark's plans for prom. If Keith had decided to attack just two weeks later, he would have never had the chance. I would have had my dark's love. I should stop going back to what should have been. The sand grains of time have already fallen, and there is no way to put it back without breaking the hourglass.
My eye lids are growing heavy. The toxic air is finally taking its toll on my body. I can feel how tired my mind is getting, how it begs for sleep. And once I fall into sleep, there will only be a short amount of time before I can finally go back to him. Finally, we could be together.
That one time I went through his memory, in an effort to comfort myself, I had seen so much. Every time I thought that I was alone in wanting just one more kiss, my dark also desired for another. Every time that I felt that only I felt pain being separated from him, whether our parting was forced or chosen, he would, in reality, feel the same ache within his chest.
And every time I would glance his way, only to see him looking ahead, I thought that only I out of us could ever fall in love with the other. This was the most false thing my mind created. The Pharaoh felt exactly the same. And when he would look away, it was only because he had just seen me looking ahead as he glanced at me. It wasn't until the world beneath his and my feet cracked and withered away that our eyes finally met. I turned to look at him one last time, and saw that he was still looking. He decided to wait and see what happened. Doing so, he finally caught me looking.
But it was too late. The ground beneath us had withered away. Only now, instead of falling separately like we would have, we grabbed each other's hands. And as we fall, we will drag each other until we both hit the bottom. The air pressure caused him to fall unconscious a long time ago, unlike me. And since I am still awake, he still holds my hand. Now, we can finally stop falling. I will fall out of the world of consciousness, to join him.
-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-ooo8oo8o8oo8ooo-
"And they lived happily ever after." I said gingerly as I closed the picture book, Beauty and the Beast. Only the small lamp beside the bed brightened the otherwise dim room. Outside the small windows on either side of the wall farthest from the door, the stars twinkled in the blueness of eternity.
"Read it again, mommy. Read it again!" The toddler tucked tightly under layers of blankets shouted. He widened his golden eyes and pouted his pink lips.
Setting down the thin book on the bedside table, I turned back to my son, a scowl visible on my face. I crossed my arms and stared straight into my child's large eyes. "What did I tell you about calling me mommy?"
The child stuck out his rosy lips even more, looking upwards, and tapped the side of his face with his skinny index finger, as if he honestly needed to think about it. I had to remind him every day, but yet, he still called me mommy. "Not to."
The scowl lifting, I raised my left eyebrow instead. I blew several white strands of hair out of my eyes before continuing. "If I told you not to, why do you?"
He frowned dramatically. "But Kura calls you mommy. Why can't I?"
I sighed, rubbing my forehead in obvious frustration. Thinking that I really need to kill Bakura for what he does to this kid. "No. You call Kura poppy and me daddy. Kura is poppy, not Kura. I am daddy, not mommy."
He shook his head. "No." We went through this every night, every single night.
"Come on, Prior." I half-whined.
"How about I call Kura daddy and you mommy?"
I bit my lip. If this was how far I was going to go, I might as well take it. "Fine. It's late. Time to go to sleep." Prior made some sort of grumbling noise, as he sunk deeply into his pillow. I laughed, bending over to kiss the small boy on the nose. I ruffled his soft, light-colored hair as I stood up. My son yawned and cozzied up in his bed. I stood silently by his side, watching as he fell asleep. He was such an adorable child.
When he did fall into the land of sugar dinosaurs and dancing dragons, I exited his room. Walking only a few feet, I came to my own bedroom door. Pushing it open, I rubbed my eyes, closing it behind me. In the room, my lover sat on his side of the bed, his bare back turned to the door. His hair was loose, falling down onto his shoulders. I am pretty sure that his arms were just lying on his lap, but I cannot be too certain. He must have opened the shades. The moon beamed in, and my dark's shadow was cast on our bed. I went over to the opposite side of the mattress, slinking off my t-shirt, socks and jeans. Throwing my clothes into the hamper, I turned to my husband.
I flopped down onto the sheets, sighing. "You have officially broken whatever masculinity I ever had. From now on, our son will know me as mommy, mom, ma or any other variation on the word mother. Hope you are content."
I waited for the witty comeback, a sadistic smirk or even a pretend sense of apology from my lover. However, none came. Bakura didn't even move. Rolling my eyes, I crawled over to the ledge of the mattress, his side. He usually didn't watch people this late.
As I saw his gorgeous, moonlit face, I gasped. From his clouded orbs, tears came down in blots. Never, never before had a vision gotten such an emotional response. Actually, I thought that he wasn't able to do anything other than stare blankly ahead in this state. Startled, I grabbed Bakura's arm, shaking him awake.
For a second, he seemed lost. After looking around at his environment, he half smiled and locked eyes with me. "What's wrong?" He asked.
Shaking my head, I climbed onto his lap. We both made the proper adjustments to do so. I kissed his cheek, in the process kissing away some of his silky tears. "I can ask you the same question. Who were you watching?"
He exhaled on my lip, touching it with his own. "Our little hikari."
"I should have known. How is he doing?" I wrapped my arms around my dark's neck. We kissed softly. As Bakura pulled back, he licked the bottom of my top teeth, getting a moan from my throat.
"He's going back."
I tilted my head in confusion. "Back?"
He nodded. "To the one place where he felt safe."
"Where is that?"
My lover chuckled, catching me off guard. "Where do you feel most safe?"
"In your arms." My words slowed as I reached the end of my sentence. I stared into my husband's bright eyes. "He actually is going through with it?"
"Yes. Ten years after we both thought he would, he is finally going to him."
And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.
The world was dark before my closed eyes. I was afraid to open them. After what seemed like hours, I felt like I had the freedom to escape from the ever-going blackness behind shut lids. But what would I see when I opened my eyes? Where was I now? I couldn't possibly still be in the car. The place where I sat was shaped exactly like a right angle, and the material was hard. Wait, I was sitting? Yes, I could feel it. I could also feel the light breeze brush over me. Birds were chirping and trees were rustling. It sounded so safe. But-
"Hey, watch out!"
My eyes shot open, a little too quickly for comfort. My first sight was of a small, neon ball coming for me. Around it, there was a perfectly blue sky. I caught it. As I brought the ball closer to me, I had a glance at my skin. Instead of being bronze, as it had been for the last ten years, it was pale. Holding the ball in one hand, I examined my arms. There wasn't a single scar on them. They were smooth, as if I had never once brought a knife to them. I was wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, the very same clothes I wore the day I left the hospital. A silver band adorned my right ring finger; though I was ambidextrous my more dominant hand was my left. I smiled, licking my lips. I guess I succeeded. I stopped falling.
"Mister? Are you okay? Ooh, did you just Enter?" I moved my line of vision to straight in front of me. A boy with wavy auburn hair stood there, a large smile plastered on his face. His irises, a pumpkin color, were so familiar. There were too many times when those same orange circles looked at me with a hungry, lustful stare in his dark room, I looked to forget them. But I looked over his body. It was that of a ten-year old. Is this the form he took when he came here?
"Yes." I said with a dry tongue. I handed him the ball, half wanting him to leave. He didn't.
"So, mister, do you know where you are going?" I shook my head. "Well, are you waiting for someone or are you going to see someone?"
"I want to see someone."
"Oh, then that's easy. All you have to do," he started. He put his ball under his arm. He grabbed my right hand and pulled, forcing me to stand. "All you have to do is start walking. You will see someone sooner or later. Come on, I'll help you. My name is Giovanni." He skipped off, dragging me behind him. A part of me didn't want to believe that this was the person that took my innocence, but it had to be. Odd. The first person I meet is he.
He stopped dragging me after while, walking so we went at the same pace. I looked around. It was a park. There were the beautiful emerald trees, old-fashioned, black benches and the classic, black lampposts. The brunet child I walked with talked about random things, a little too quickly for me to understand.
Along the path, there was a number of people. Some were strolling down the pebble-covered dirt. Some were alone. Some were with a group. Some were linked at the arms with one-another. There was one man, in a striped red and white apron, selling icies to a small girl with pigtails.
He stopped as we reached the edge of a small pond. The water was clear, reflecting the light blue sky. Wildflowers sprouted up from the water's edge. There was a small island in the crystal liquid, connected to the mainland by an arch bridge. A black gazebo stood proudly, surrounded by bushes and even more wildflowers, on this island. Unlike most gazebos, where you could see right through to the other side, there was something dark colored covering the inside from view. I felt drawn to it. Why, I did not know.
I looked down to Giovanni, a questioning look on my face. He smiled up at me. "This is as far as I go. I think you will find the guy if you go by yourself now. I have to go back. My friend is waiting for me. See you!" He said as he skipped off in the direction we had come from. I watched until he rounded a corner, disappearing from my sight.
Feeling more lost then ever before, I began to walk. I had no clue where I was going, but I continued. I was standing near the wooden bridge when I paused. The wildflowers appeared to have just bloomed. Their colors were vibrant and rich. I went over to the water's edge and bent down. Just as I was about to touch one that I think was a lily-of-the-valley, I caught my reflection in the water. I should have expected what I saw.
Just as the healed over gashes on my arm had vanished, the scars on my face were gone. Except for the fact that some of my features were sharper, more adult, than before, I held the face of the days before Keith attacked me. I heard a laugh from behind me. It was so familiar. I straightened up and turned to the direction of the noise.
On the grass beside the path, a couple sat, having a picnic, three yards away. The man was clothed in jeans that had worn at several parts and a loose, beige peasant shirt. His long, ebony hair kept falling down to cover his eyes, but he would always brush it away a second later, like it was a natural way of life. His cloudy blue eyes were watching the woman he was with, who was the person I assumed laughed. Like her companion, she had long hair. But her velvety strands were strawberry blond. Her white dress was spread in a circle around her, like an upside down tulip.
I was unable to see her eyes until she looked at me. They were violet. At the time when I discovered the shade of the woman's orbs, she gasped. She elbowed the man, nodding her head in my direction. "Look who we have here, Nathan."
Nathan smiled when he saw me. He waved. "Hello, Yugi." He said, brightly. I walked toward them, but stopped as I felt a hand wind itself around my bicep.
"Not yet, Yugi. There is someone more important you must see first." The man who held me was a bit taller than me. The top of his hair, dark grey with many stripes of black, was hidden under a hat. The man wore a suit and had a stubble beard. His wise eyes were a deeper color than my own, almost plum.
"Gr-Grandpa?" I stumbled. He nodded. "What do you mean there's someone more important?"
He released me, shaking his head and sighing. "He has been waiting for such a long time. When he first came here, Entered as we call it, all he did was say hello to some of his family members in the Desert region here. You should have seen him when he Entered." He shivered momentarily. "Then, he said hello to me. His hellos took about two, maybe three, days. After that, well, he secluded himself in his little corner of this place for the remainder of the time."
A wave of emotion flowed down my entire body. "That means he's been waiting for years?" Another nod.
"Ha. It's more like sulking. The kids here dare each other to enter his gazebo." My heart stopped as I heard the last word. I turned to the island in the pond. "The only ones brave enough always come out crying. The kids are too scared to tell what he yelled at them. I think his cousin has been in there several times. Other than that." The hat-wearing man's voice faltered.
My entire body was now facing the island covered with wildflowers. No wonder I was so drawn to the black structure. And all I had to do was walk across the bridge, and I would be with him. After so long, finally I could be with him. A tap on my shoulder startled me from my trance.
"Go to him, precious. We'll be here when you come back." I beamed at the strawberry blonde. Taking one last breath, I took a step forward.
As I crossed the bridge, I felt myself begin to shake. Questions ran into my head that I had never really thought of before. What if he was upset that I waited so long? What if I changed dramatically, and he doesn't like the new me? What if he finally saw that I don't deserve him, and he leaves? What if he hates me for killing him? What if, if he hates me for ever wanting to leave him? And even with these huge doubts, I kept moving forward, toward the entrance.
The gazebo was quite large. In between the intersecting strips of wood, white roses poked their blossoms out, its ivy-like stems jetting out only to twist back around the wood. Inside the enclosure, draperies of black and purple colors hung from the ceiling. Though the black was only one shade, a black that resembled that of a night sky, the purple came in many dark shades. It went all around the circular middle, only leaving a path of cloth-less space to walk in.
And when I was past the rows of hanging fabric, I noticed that the deep crimson and ruby drapes would unfurl themselves, to be with the black and purple. I also noted how dim it was. The only thing lighting the gazebo were several, candle-lit lanterns that were attached to the roof.
At the end of the pathway, for the first time in too long, I saw him, the one that makes me whole.
Not counting the candles, the sole object in the cloth-less area was a black bed He was lying on the bed, the foot post of it facing me. He wore the last outfit I ever saw him in. A grey, see-through shirt, black tank top, dog tags, and a pair of black jeans that that faded a bit at the knees. A pair of black sandals was posed next to the bed, forgotten. His tan, scar-less, left arm covered him forehead, and with it, his eyes. His bangs were draped down from the crown of his head, to the sides of it. From my guess, he had the rest in a ponytail. He had a silver band, similar to mine, on his left hand, though I am sure he still wrote with his right. Dreariness, as well as exhaustion, whipped off him. Even so, my knees almost buckled at how powerful he seemed.
I took a step, creating a squeak on the wooden floor. He tensed at the noise as my heart leapt to my throat.
"Little one, I am not in the mood to deal with your games. I suggest you leave." He growled, making no other movement.
I took a deep breath. Closing my eyes, I whispered, "Little one? How mean of you, my guardian, to call me short. You know how little confidence I have, especially when it comes to my height."
His reaction lasted for only a second. He flinched at hearing my voice and his right hand clenched into a fist. "Mahaado," He said, anger written in his tone, "I told you to stop copying his voice in an attempt to get me up. I told you once, and I'll tell you again, if you don't stop, I will tell my aunt of your actions. We both know how your mother is. And she will not be pleased that I had to get up just because you were annoying me. Just, leave me alone."
I chuckled. So Mahaado is the cousin Grandpa mentioned. "Becoming slothful, Guardian? I thought that of all people, you would be the last one to resort to laziness."
I received the same physical reaction. "Get out. I don't have the energy to deal with you."
Sighing loudly, I stood my place. "So is that what you do? After waiting five thousand years to find your soul mate, you lose your virginity to a one-night stand? I am shocked, Guardian. Shocked."
He pulled his arm away from his face, his beautiful orbs revealed to me. Our eyes locked. After so long, seeing them was like being pulled out of a pit. I was here, he was here, and hopefully, we still felt the same. And even if one of us didn't, I would at least have him near. Though I would prefer for it not to be so, I could accept him as just a friend. I wouldn't mind, that much.
Pushing a bang behind his ear, the other threw his legs over the side of the bed, never breaking our mutual staring. He drew closer to me. With every step, my chest tightened. His movements were so swift and serene. I was hypnotized by the swaying, and was startled when I realized he stood right in front of me. I blushed at his closeness. I could already feel a warmth from his body, a warmth that I had not been able to feel in ten years.
Ever so gently, the bronze male cupped my left ear. I closed my eyes, tilting immediately to his strong hands. I moved so we were close but still weren't touching, yet, except for the hand at the side of my face. I moaned to express my absolute comfort. Chuckling slightly, he whispered, "How are you, my light?"
Smiling, I responded. "Terrible. And I heard you might have the same reply to that question as I. Am I not right?"
"You have no idea." I didn't hear him leaning in. I only noticed he had done so when his lips made contact with my delicate neck, sucking on it softly. I released another moan, this one louder, before angling my head more into his hand, thereby exposing more flesh to him. And off him, I could smell the scent that belonged only to him. Even when I was in his body, though I didn't want to, I would never get that honey smell to be exactly like his. The smell alone made me dizzy. And as he sunk his teeth slightly into my skin, my knees gave in under me. He caught a blushing me easily, the touch of his shirt and pants caused yet another sound, this time a whimper.
Suckling my neck one last time, he brought both his arms around my waist and rested his head on my shoulder. Sighing quietly, I slung my arms over his shoulders, grabbing them together a place in the air around a foot from the nape of his neck. "I am so sorry." I said shakily into his shoulder. "I am so sorry. I understand if you don't, don't feel the same way, but--"
He laughed, his voice just a box of bells to my long awaiting eardrums. "Shh." He lifted his mouth to my ear, kissing the lobe. "No apologies, none at all, from either of us. And I feel exactly as I did the night we were together. I don't know how you could think any other way. Question is, do you?"
"Yes and no. I feel the same way for you, but much better for you and me."
Touching his lips to my ear again, he chuckled. "I am happy to hear that." He led his mouth down to my collarbone, pulling down my shirt to access it. Through clumsy steps and a bit of our bodies rubbing against each other, we made it to the side of the bed. I toed off my shoes. I lifted one foot at a time, taking off my socks, tossing them to a random place in the gazebo.
As he moved his foot forward, I, who had run out of room, felt the mattress hit my shins, causing me to fall backwards. The mattress was perfect, not too firm or squishy. My dark came after me, since my arms were still looped around his middle.
I fiddled with the top of his pants, unbuttoning it with both hands and little effort. Once the circular piece of metal was pushed through its tiny hole, I pulled down my dark's zipper, gracing the outside of his thighs with the insides of my own. He gasped, somewhat lustfully, at my actions. He pressed his now open pants that covered the front of his warm hips into the middle of my slightly eagle-spread legs.
I arched into his heat, saying loudly, 'Yami!" The word seemed so foreign to my tongue. In over ten years, I have not used it in the sense of a name, rather than a title, as I do with Bakura. Those two syllables were like an exotic spice to my voice. I over pronounced it, but I did not care. I was enthralled with how it rolled out of my mouth.
Encouraged by my outburst, my dark nibbled at my jawbone, taking bold licks from the bottom of my ear to my chin. My hands slid under his shirt and tank, freely roaming his toned back. He shifted so our eyes aligned, as well as our lips. His mouth came an inch from my own, breathing deeply onto me. Chills ran down my spine, and my cheeks flushed. "Yugi, my light, I lov-" He started, my finger stopping him from saying anything more.
"Don't. There is no need for you to say it. By the way you look at me, giving me a look you would no other, I already know."
I wrapped my legs around his knees, bringing us just so much closer. He smiled and closed the gap between our lips; all that I forced unsaid echoing through our kiss.
Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world.
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The Beginning
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Editor's Notes: Reading this wonderful story, and possibly more important this wonderful chapter, can change ones entire outlook on many a thing. It is perfectly expressed how much of a wonderful world it is to Yami and Yugi as well as any yami and hikari pairing. I know I couldn't help but gasp out a few inaudible words in the reading of this chapter. Perfection; utter perfection.
Author's Notes: That's it.
I will now give out my thanks.
Thank you, Kazuki Takahashi. Without you, Yu-Gi-Oh would not have existed. What would we have done without you? Without you, we would have never learned of our gang's feats, as well as their defeats. We would have never met our beautiful semes (Yami, Bakura and Seto) as well as our pretty ukes (Yugi, Ryou and Joey). Thank you, for giving me such a great anime to write fan fiction about.
Thank you, my favorite reviewers (you know who you are). Throughout all this, seeing your names appear multiple times, long and/ or deep reviews often following your names, made me so content. It boosted my sprit, making me want to write, and write well, to live up to your compliments. I love you all!
Thank you, those who ever reviewed. Though I would have loved to hear mor4e of what you thought, just knowing that you took the time to press the little, bluish purple button to write reviews for me makes me jump for joy.
Thank you, those who never reviewed but stuck with this story through it all. Though I would have wanted to hear your voice, knowing that there were those out there who were brave enough to suffer through the beginning chapters of this virgin fiction, also really makes me happy.
Thank you, those who just read this story for the first time. Hope you enjoyed this story!
Thank you, all my friends. They had to listen to me rant on and on about this fiction at school, even though they don't like Yu-Gi-Oh, rated M or lemony stories as much as I (that's to you, mafia leader!).
Thank you, my editor. Oh, ifthedeadwerealive, what would this fiction be without you at my side! You gave me encouragement when I hated this story, or when I didn't want to write because I thought I wasn't good enough. You introduced me to the world of fan fiction, thereby allowing me to express some of my brain energy into words. Thank you, ifthedeadwerealive, for everything you have done. Bakura and Seto love you!
I will respond to reviews this chapter. So just make sure you are logged in when you review, or there is the e-mail address in the heading, so I can reply. Any questions you send will be answered.
The story of two teens, both with equally low self-esteem, and the love between them, the type of love that these lonely souls so desperately want, has come to an end. Hope you have enjoyed.