A/N: Ah hahaha, I was evil and wrote when I should have been studying. Evil, but only in certain people's eyes.

Thanks to reviewers, probably the only people that keep me writing when I should be doing other things. Things that improve my grades...

My beta is being a loser and not giving me back any corrections, and I refuse to believe that there are none! So if you find any huge ones, go and bother celestial-fire-angel.

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it. Shucks.

Chapter Five:

Monday morning. The day that people wake up early and go to work or school. One of the most resented days of the week, but Yami was sitting on a stool near the island in the kitchen, reading the newspaper and feeling perfectly content about going to a meeting later that morning. He turned the pages idly, reading, but not really reading, and absently spooning granola into his mouth. Next to him on the counter sat a small pile of papers, songs, he intended to hand over to whomever would need them. He had thousands of songs written, and most of them he had worked on with Otogi to get an instrumental composition too. That was the way things would go, he would write the songs, and compose most of the music, but Otogi was trained in composition, so they would go back over them and work out any of the problems.

Yami saw someone walk up to him out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, Yami, you're not going to wear that, are you?" He heard Yugi ask.

"What? What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Yami looked down at his attire, a black t-shirt and black leather pants and boots.

"It's not something I would wear to a business meeting, don't you have a suit?"

"What? A suit? I'm not getting all dressed up for that..." He stopped after catching a glance from Yugi. "Why do I have to change?"

"You should look professional," Yugi said, pouring cereal into a bowl.

Jou walked into the scene, and Yami groaned when he saw what Jou was wearing. A nice, gray suit and crisp white shirt with no tie. It made Yami feel even worse when he thought that Jou had put a lot of effort into it, he rarely got dressed up, opting for jeans over anything else.

"Hey guys," Jou greeted. "Yami, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Fine, I'll go get dressed up," Yami said, slipping off his chair and walking, defeated, to his room. Yugi laughed as Yami walked away.

Yami stopped when he got into his room. He only had one suit, and it was going to have to do. He pulled out the protective bag and unzipped it, revealing a black suit with two deep red buttons on the bottom of the jacket and a matching shirt. Laboriously, he undressed and pulled the pants on, painstakingly buttoned the shirt up, and finished it off by straightening his jacket so it sat nicely on his shoulders. He admired his work in the mirror, before heading out to get Yugi's approval.

Yami walked straight up to Yugi. "Better?" He asked.

Yugi nodded. "Much," he replied. "But you only have thirty minutes to get to the building. And Jou took the car."

"What! Jou left without me?" Yami asked, his brain going faster than his body had time to react.

"He didn't know how long you would take," Yugi said. "But it's not like it matters, just take the bike."

Yami sighed. Putting a helmet on would mess up his hair, but it was the only way he could make it in time. He ran over to the elevator and grabbed his keys from the bowl next to it. Quickly, he pulled the grate open, but paused when he thought of something.

"Yugi, what are you going to do today?" He asked.

"Oh, I dunno," Yugi replied. "I might go to an arcade with Mokuba."

Yami nodded and entered the elevator, but turned around again. "How did Mokuba get a hold of you?"

"I assume he got our number from the company," Yugi said.

"Okay," Yami said, not wanting to stay and then be later for the meeting. He closed the grate and stuck his key in the proper keyhole to take him to the garage.

"Shit," Yami said. He left the songs up on the counter. He pressed the emergency stop button on the elevator and then stuck his key back in for the top floor. The elevator ride seemed to get longer and longer each day he rode it.

The elevator stopped and Yami pulled the grate back up, but didn't have to move farther than that, because Yugi was standing there with the stack of papers in his hand.

"You shouldn't leave things that you need," Yugi said.

"Haha," Yami laughed sarcastically. "Thanks."

Yami closed the gate and was finally on his way. He got off at the garage, grateful that he actually had a safe place to keep the car and motorcycle. He walked over to the two spots where they kept the vehicles, one of them empty, and the other occupied with a thin, black sports motorcycle with chrome features. Yami unlocked the helmet from the wheels and put it on, then threw his leg over the bike and put the songs in a side bag. He found the right key and stuck it in the ignition, bringing the bike to life.

The ride to Twister was around forty-five minutes, longer, if there was traffic. Yami didn't have forty-five minutes, and he thanked the gods that a motorcycle could weave in and out of stationary cars, even if they weren't supposed to. The traffic meant little to him, and he easily got to the building.

Yami jumped off the bike, pulled his papers out, and quickly locked it up, glancing at his watch and noting that he only had three minutes to get into the building. He ran up to the front doors and fixed his hair, which amazingly, didn't get too out of shape in the helmet. He walked fast toward the elevator, but realized he didn't know where to go. He stopped midstep and walked back to the front desk.

"Excuse me, miss," he said to the receptionist behind the desk. "I need to know where conference room four is."

"It's on the fifth floor. Go down the right hand corridor and it should be the first or second door on the right," she replied with a smile.

"Thank you," Yami said, leaving the desk and walking toward the elevators. He pressed the call button and waited. Out of nervous habit, Yami checked his watch, two minutes to go and then after that he would be late. At least it was acceptable to be fashionably late, and if the elevator didn't come any quicker, he would be late. Life had become so much more fast paced since the band had been signed on, Yami wasn't adjusted to it yet.

Yami made a furious noise when the elevator finally dinged open and walked into it, pressing the large number five button ten times more than necessary. He reminded himself to breathe every once in a while so he wouldn't pass out. The fifth floor came much quicker than Yami expected, and he walked out into the room a little stunned. The carpet and wood of the empty desk matched almost perfectly, a sort of honey-brown color, and the walls were a rich mahogany. It felt like Yami had just stepped into a hotel, not an office building. He shook his head and told himself to focus, then continued to walk toward the right side of the room.

The door to the conference room was slightly ajar, and Yami heard quiet talking, one of the conversationalists was Bakura, but he couldn't make out the other one...or ones. He pushed the door open as he walked through, causing everyone in the room to turn their heads and stare at him. That always made Yami a little uncomfortable, it took him back to school days when someone would go to the bathroom and then return and the class would stare at them when they walked back to their seats.

Seto sat at the head of the small, round table. "Alright, now that everyone's here," he said. Yami shot a glare at Jou, who caught it and shrugged a little. "We should discuss the rest of your career. Obviously, the concert went off without a hitch, so that leaves us with the question of what to do next. We could send you off on a tour, but it seems a little early to me."

"I agree," Yami said. "Actually, we all agree. We already have this much planned out. We want to make one legitimate CD, then we'll consider going on tour."

"Do you have songs prepared?" Seto asked.

Yami slid the papers over the top of the table and spread them out. There were at least thirteen songs, and Seto reached out and took one.

"If these aren't suitable, I have more," Yami said.

"A lot more," Bakura piped in. "Yami's like a machine, all he does is sit there and write songs. He's got a pretty boring life."

"Do all of your songs come with music?" Seto asked, choosing to ignore Bakura's comment.

"A good deal of them," Yami said.

"That makes things easier," Seto said, almost to himself. He read over the lyrics of another song. They were poignant and disturbing, but oddly intriguing.

"What about music videos?" Jou asked, bringing Seto back into reality.

"Yes," Seto said. "Music videos can be produced, they take a while, and it will be up to you if you would like to do them. Some bands forego the entire process, making one or two for one for their entire career. Though, usually, it is a requested item in the contract."

"I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would like to do them," Yami said.

"Going back to the contract," Mai cut in. "We still need to get a tangible copy. The band and the company have an oral contract, which is legally binding, but I feel it would be beneficial to get everything put down on paper. Only then do I think we should talk about adding more to the contract."

Everyone nodded approval.

"Actually," Seto said. "I have already had a contract written up. I just need all of you to review and sign it."

First, the contract was passed to Mai, who looked over it and then stood up and walked to one side of the room. She stood there, reading it thoroughly, and then motioned for the rest of the group to follow her.

They all stood in a circle, a light whispering floating over to Seto's ears. None of the words were audible, only a small din of noise cluttering the air. He sat there feeling oddly left out, the group was quietly laughing amongst themselves, playfully punching each other, or was Yami really punching Bakura? Seto shook his head and looked away, out the window.

"Okay," Mai said, returning to the table. "We all agree these are acceptable terms. Yami, if you'll sign first."

Yami took the pen Mai held out and bent over the table. His hand glided over the paper, thin lines of black ink spelling out his name in an intricate signature. When he was done, he passed the pen to the next person in line, Bakura, who signed the contract as well. Seto took the contract back when all of them had signed it, and shoved it into a folder. The band's fate was now signed and sealed in a manila envelope.

-----

"Wow, this is a nice place," Mokuba said upon entering Yami and Yugi's apartment. It was a stark opposite of his house; the walls were white with no pictures decorating them, everything looked like it was thrown haphazardly in it's place, whereas Seto and Mokuba's house was designed with the notion that everything had it's specific place. But the Kaiba house also had many different rooms in which to put things.

Mokuba caught the scent of grilled cheese sandwiches, and felt his stomach rumble. Yugi had invited him up for lunch, but wasn't expecting it to ready by the time they got to the apartment. He looked over to the kitchen area and saw Yami standing over a pan, dancing slightly and mouthing words. As Yugi and Mokuba walked closer, Mokuba noticed the earbuds in Yami's ears.

Yami turned his head and smiled at them. He pulled out one of the earbuds. "Hey, Yugi, Mokuba," Yami said. "What are you two doing here?"

"Hi Yami," Yugi said. "We came for lunch. Are you serving us?"

"I was serving me, but, I made enough for you two also," Yami said. "Granted, I had no clue you were going to be coming here for lunch, I made the extras for Jou."

"He can make his own food," Yugi said, smiling. Yami nodded.

Yugi walked over to the bar stools at the island and sat down, followed by Mokuba.

"So, how did the meeting go?" Yugi asked.

"Fine, we got all the details out of the way, and we're officially signed on," Yami said, taking two plates out of the cabinet and placing them in front of Yugi and Mokuba. "Kaiba was actually neutral the entire time."

Mokuba made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a snort, causing Yugi and Yami to both look over at him. He brought his hand up while he regained his composure. "That sounds like him," he laughed again. "He's very professional when it comes to business, but when he has to relate to people outside of work..." Mokuba faded off and kind of shrugged.

"Why?" Yami asked, annoyance lacing his question.

"Beats me," Mokuba replied. But he was lying, he knew why his brother had difficulty with other people, he just didn't think Seto would like it if he went around telling people personal things. "But he's really a nice person, you just have to get past the exterior."

"Get under his skin?" Yami smirked at Mokuba.

"Not quite in that sense," Mokuba said. "But I get the feeling he..." Mokuba searched for the words. "Well, he loosens up, sometimes."

Yami shrugged and turned back to the stove, where he flipped the sandwiches over and pressed them down with the spatula once to finish them off. He brought the sizzling pan over to the island and slid the sandwiches on the plates.

"What are you going to do after lunch, Yami?" Yugi asked.

"I was going to work on more music for the songs," Yami replied, already picking up a plate that had been made earlier. "You guys can come watch." Yami indicated to the spiral, iron wrought staircase that led to the studio on top of the bedrooms.

Yugi looked over at Mokuba. "You wanna go watch?"

Mokuba's face brightened up. "Of course."

------

"Now this is impressive," Mokuba said, the awe obvious in his voice.

He was standing in a completely soundproofed room, the bumpy foam covering every inch of the room, except the concrete floor, that had a large Persian rug to insulate it. Microphones stood everywhere, seemingly strategically placed so that Mokuba would just barely avoid tripping over one and stumble over the next. Hanging on the wall were four guitars; one acoustic, and three electric.

Mokuba walked up to one of the guitars and examined it more closely. It was a simple black lacquered electric guitar with thin bands of red running parallel with the neck of the guitar. From far away, no one would notice the detail. Lined up against the walls were soundboards and other technology for recording purposes and at the end of the room, pushed up against the wall and completely true to it's name, sat an electric blue trap set. Mokuba could see no way that anyone could get in or out it.

Yami took the acoustic guitar and sat down at one of the padded stools near the only window in the room. He placed the plate on a stool next to him, and reached behind him for a yellow pad of paper. He rifled through his pocket, and produced a black pick, already humming to himself. Yugi sat down close to him, munching on his sandwich.

"Is it hard to write songs?" Mokuba asked, reaching over the wall to strum one of the guitar's strings. He pulled his hand back quickly when it started swinging tentatively on the wall.

"Not really," Yami replied. "The hard part is writing the music." He started playing chords on the guitar, matching the tune he was humming and looking over at the notepad. "But most of the time, I know the basic rhythm of the song, so that makes it easier."

"Huh," Mokuba said, but he was too enthralled sifting through bells and tambourines and other small musical instruments to ask anything else.

-------

Seto sat in a large armchair next to the fireplace, looking deep into it's flames and letting his mind wander. Normally, he would never allow time for mindless activities such as that, but he had gone three nights without any substantial sleep, therefore making it difficult for him to focus on any one thing for long. The headaches that came with the insomnia were starting to disappear, Seto's body was getting used to only sleeping for an average of only two and half hours.

The responsible part of Seto's brain told him he should at least attempt to do something constructive with this time, work on his laptop, or read a book, or something. Earlier that evening, he had called Mokuba to see where his younger brother went for so long, and Mokuba replied that he was with Yugi and Yami, and that they would probably go see a movie and have dinner, so Seto didn't have to wait up. An unsettling feeling bubbled up in his stomach, he was letting his brother stay out with people he barely knew. But, Seto didn't want to push the only friend that Mokuba had away. He knew how much it meant to his brother to have someone to hang out with.

He heard the front door unlock and rose to greet Mokuba. As expected, Mokuba walked down the hall and past the door to the living room, but stopped and backtracked.

"Oh, hey, Seto," he said. "You didn't have to stay up, or can you not sleep?"

"The latter," Seto replied. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah. I ate too much though, all I want to do is go to bed," Mokuba said, clearly exhausted.

"You should go," Seto said.

"Good night, and try to get some sleep," Mokuba said, exiting the room.

"Good night," Seto said, half to Mokuba, half to himself. He sat down again and listened to the noises that came from Mokuba getting ready for bed, wondering when his inability to sleep would lighten up and darkness would overcome him again.

A/N: I hate insomnia. I also have nothing to say here, except, review please. Next chapter not close to being written, so I dunno when it'll be posted... I'll try not to make it a month. And I'll work on my other one...jeez it's been so long I don't even remember the name. Yeah, and my new idea, that one's still giving me troubles. But it will all be done!