Bonjour! Fast, ne? Well, for me anyway, but you haven't experienced that yet. Though . . . if the number of reviews I get cuts in half with each chapter you may. (JK, unless it happens, then I'll simply have to do what I must. Ha.) Hehe.
Hmm. I think I'll explain the italics for you. It'll become clear, later, but I'm not entirely sure how soon 'later' is. This story (in case you couldn't tell) is third person limited from Yugi's pov. And the italics are neither dreams nor memories, though so far they've only occurred when one or more characters are sleeping. It's actually a . . . parallel storyline, so to speak. And they're not limited to Yugi's pov. They also won't necessarily occur in chronological order even though the normal story will. I'm playing here, can you tell? I'm not sure how it will come out. It's an experiment. I think you'll appreciate it later.
Um. Oh yes—I actually have the how figured out for this story, and a rough timeline to keep me on track though I'm not sure how many chapters there'll be. Depends on how cooperative the characters are. I think you'll want to kill me soon. By the way, how do ya'll feel about Teá? Not that she'll be called that; she's Anzu because I don't feel like putting in the accent so she's not Tea, which is a drink not a person, not even an anime person. All other names with be American simply because, unless you want them to be Japanese. If you do, you have to tell me this chapter and there has to be at least 10 requests for it.
So sorry for the extra long AN, it shouldn't happen again. Enjoy! BTW, I'll try to keep the random Japanese to a minimum.
o/o/o/o/o
"Baka Pharaoh!"
Yugi's head snapped up, the youth dimly aware that beside him Ryou copied the action, in time to see Bakura storm into the Shop from the house, following his growled outburst with a string of Ancient Egyptian (he presumed) curses, the white-haired Thief as angry as he had ever seen him—eyes narrow slits, gravity-defying spikes flared about his face, body tensed, crouched, like a predator ready to pounce on the first wretch unfortunate enough to cross his path.
The violet-eyed youth exchanged a bewildered glance with his friend. "Bakura?" Ryou prompted timidly, half sliding from his seat in preparation to run.
A feral snarl dropped from curled lips as he whirled on the pair. "You coming or staying?" the Egyptian demanded.
"What?" yelped the albino.
"Fine!"
"But—" Yugi shrugged when Ryou glanced at him for an explanation of the Thief's behavior. Then the door slammed and the albino jumped from the seat. "Yugi, I—"
"Just go!" the violet-eyed boy interrupted, smiling. "Before he banishes someone to the Shadow Realm. We can talk more later."
"Bye!"
He watched Ryou sprint to the door from behind the counter, then followed as the gentle boy called, "Bakura! Wait! I'm coming!" When he opened the door and looked down the street, he saw his friend grasp the agitated Egyptian's arm, get shook off, and reach to do it again. He could hear their voices, just barely, but their words were lost in the distance between them. Then Bakura turned down another street, Ryou following, and they were gone.
Yugi stared at the spot where they had disappeared as the event played over in his head, a single question running through his mind even as the adrenaline-tension eased. He looked the other way down the street, then stepped back inside with a sigh and closed the door. Nimble fingers twisted the lock then flipped the closed sign; there was no point in staying open if he didn't have any customers. Maybe he and Yami could spend some quality time together. He turned to go back to the counter—
—and jumped back in surprise, slamming into the door with rattling force and a stuttered thud. It was a panicked moment before the shadowed figure leaning against the counter registered itself as a familiar form.
"Yami!" he exclaimed, hand going to his heart in relief to make sure the pounding organ wasn't about to burst free of his chest. "Don't do that! You scared the life out of me."
A small smirk played about the other's lips. "Forgive me. Were you expecting someone else?"
"No. I was expecting no one," he grumbled, glaring lightly. "That's why you scared me." He walked towards his friend, straightening things as he went. "When did you come down, anyway?"
"Just now," the former Spirit replied with a shake of the head, turning to face Yugi as he stepped behind the counter. "I thought I'd make sure the Tomb Robber didn't kill anyone on the way out."
"What happened?"
Yami shrugged, suddenly looking uncomfortable though his face was impassive, and half turned away. "Just Bakura being Bakura," he assured. "You know how touchy he is."
Yugi did, but he was sure there had to be more to it than that; the other's behavior suggested as much, yet he was hesitant to call the Pharaoh on it. Yami had already been so distant lately, he was afraid prying at another subject he obviously wanted left alone would push him away further, especially if the incident were to be somehow connected with whatever was bothering him in the first place. Perhaps Bakura had mentioned something?
The boy took a deep breath and exhaled silently, pushing away the rest of his questions as he did so and shoved a refilled box of chocolate bars back to their proper position on the counter. He studied them as he spoke, uncertain of what Yami's reaction would be and not quite able to bring himself to face it.
"Well," he said hesitantly, "business is slow, so I was I could close the Shop early and we could go out for lunch, that is, if you wanted to." He held his breath for the reply, but when the silence stretched longer than he had expected, he looked up. Yami was looking away from him, staring across the store so all the boy could see was the back of his head. His shoulders looked tense. "Yami?"
The taller youth turned then, regret on his face. "Forgive me, Yugi, I can't. Anzu and I are going out this afternoon. I guess . . . I forgot to tell you." Crimson eyes flashed quickly to the door. "She should be here soon, I think."
"Oh . . ." Yugi felt like the floor had just been pulled out from under him. His eyes automatically traced down the other's lithe form, noticing for the first time the form-hugging black light-reflecting leather pants and matte-black sleeveless shirt, accented by leather straps with silver buckles that started at his collar and traced a line down his right breast. Two belts slung low over his hips, one the customary leather that held his dueling deck and the other a slinky silver chain whose trailing end dangled again his thigh. Silver-accented leather wristbands bound his wrists, and a matching strip wrapped his neck, somehow enhancing the look of his exotic, slanted eyes. A light jacket dangled from loose fingers.
His eyes lingered on that hand, studying their curl as he couldn't look at his friend's face. "Is it a date?" he asked, pleased when his voice sounded mostly normal.
"You could come with us, if you like," the elder offered quickly, ignoring Yugi's question, his voice somewhat tight, strained, casting doubt on his invitation. "Anzu wouldn't mind." But Yugi saw his fingers clench spasmodically at the jacket on that last and he had his answer.
He looked up with a smile, ruthlessly squashing his disappointment. "No, that's okay. I don't want to intrude. If it's a date, it's a date. Besides, there's plenty I need to do here. You two have fun."
Yami frowned, though Yugi still couldn't read much from his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak.
"Really!" Yugi insisted, cutting him off before he could do so. He almost cheered when he caught sight of Anzu outside the window and hurried to open it for her before he could do something stupid and prompt Yami to cancel the date. He felt the strain of his smile keenly. "Hey, Anzu!"
"Hello, Yugi," she greeted happily. She wore a short black skirt and a matching tube top under a pink jean jacket, purse slung over her shoulder. Black teardrop earrings swayed with every twitch of her head. She gestured at the door. "Are you done already?"
"Oh no," he answered quickly, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly at the reminder of his previous plan, his eyes slipping past her to the mostly empty street. "No, I'm just taking a break for lunch, that's all."
"Oh!" She brushed some hair behind her ear. "Do you want us to watch the Shop for you while you eat? It's no problem."
"No, no," the youth assured quickly, feeling the strain increase exponentially, and waved his hands dismissively before walking to the counter. He passed Yami and his eyes flickered up long enough to catch a slight frown on the other's face. He looked away, swallowed, and continued speaking, willing his voice to normalcy. "I couldn't ask you to do that, not when you have a date. Besides, friends or no, there's no point. We've barely had a customer all day. You'd be wasting your time."
"Are you sure, Yugi?"
"Yep!" Yugi placed his hands on the counter. He could feel himself shaking and knew that if he didn't get out of her soon, he was going to fly to pieces. "Go have a great time." His cheeks hurt from holding his smile in place when all it wanted to do was slide off, but if that happened Yami would know something was wrong instead of just maybe suspecting.
"If you're sure," Anzu said.
"Yugi. . ." Yami began, the tone familiar and he knew he had to get them out.
"Go!" he insisted earnestly, all but bouncing on the spot. "Have fun. I'm just gonna go make myself a sandwich. . . ." He started backing away, pointing vaguely over his shoulder towards the house door. "Yami, could you . . . could you lock the door on your way out? Please?"
Yugi smiled a thanks without waiting for the other's assent, knowing it didn't matter, and almost ran through the door, ascending the short steps to the house proper at record speed and sinking against the first wall he came to as soon as he was up the stairs and out of sight, his smile gone as if it had never been.
With his back pressed tightly against the wall, he drew his legs to his chest and wedged his trembling hands between them and his chest, then leaned his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. He was still—he knew he was still—but his body shivered like it was the middle of winter, his teeth chattering if he didn't clench them shut. Yet he wasn't cold. He was sweating.
"What's wrong with me?" he asked the darkened, empty house before pressing his forehead to his knees. Dimly, he heard the bell tinkle as someone opened the door and heard it bang closed. Some of the tension wired through him eased slightly, then; but he still half feared Yami would walk through the door and crouch beside him. He didn't know what he'd do then.
His breath shuddered as he sighed it past parted lips, muttered, "Chill out, Mutou," under his breath, as fiercely as he could manage. "They're just your friends."
The assurance did little. "They're gone now," helped a little more, but he didn't truly know that, and he needed to. Still trembling, Yugi crawled toward the door and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. He stumbled silently down the short stairs and peeked hesitantly around the door, again half expecting Yami to be there. But the room was empty, and when he reached the door it was locked. Satisfied the door was locked and he really was alone, he retreated back into the living room.
By that time, he felt almost normal, save the kind of shivery fatigue that made him think of high fevers. He ignored it, though, and went into the kitchen, gathering supplies from the fridge by rote and taking them to the counter to make a sandwich, not because he was in any way hungry but because he had told Anzu he was going to eat lunch and it was the only thing he could think to do. And he needed something to do.
So he pulled out the dread, dutifully twisting it closed once he claimed his slices, and spread some mayonnaise across one side of each, dropping a bit on the counter between the jar and the bread, wiping it up, then piling some turkey on one of the slices, some mustard squeezed from the bottle, a slice of cheese, followed by the second piece of bread, all without really registering what he had done, all without thinking about anything else, his thoughts a low buzz in the back of his mind, like a radio tuned to the wrong station with its volume turned down low. A plate, then he carried the sandwich to the table and sat.
Violet eyes studied the sandwich but Yugi made no move to eat it. Instead, he put his elbows on the table and braced his head in his hands. 'What happened?' he asked himself. 'One minute you were perfectly fine—a little disappointed maybe, but nothing big—and the next you were freaking out. Because of Anzu. What were you thinking?'
He had no answer. His turkey sandwich looked like it knew, but it wasn't talking; it just sat there in pride of place in the center of his plate and stared.
"Anzu wouldn't hurt me," he told it. It didn't react. He prayed to the gods for his sanity that he hadn't expected it to. He sighed, confused, and scrubbed his hands over his face, then turned sideways to look around the kitchen. His eyes lingered on the mayonnaise and mustard bottles that marred the otherwise spotless counters, trying stubbornly to sort out his feelings . . . figure out why he had lost it.
He sighed again. He wished his grandpa was home. The elder Mutou always knew how to make him feel better, and maybe he would have some insight into what was going on. After all, he had been young once, even if that had been a long, long time ago. . . .
Yugi shook his head violently. No; scratch that. He wasn't ever going to tell Grandpa about this. It was nothing, just him being stupid. If Yami wanted to go out with Anzu, spend time with her, he should be happy, and he would be. Was. He was happy. For him. Yami deserved to have a girlfriend and go on dates and get to enjoy himself and have a life. He'd been trapped in a puzzle for five thousand years, after all. So he deserved to have a nice life, especially after being so patient in sharing a body with him and protecting him and waiting to get his memories back just so he could enjoy himself with his friends and participate in a stupid tournament.
So long as Yami was happy, it didn't matter who he was happy with. If it was Anzu, the same Anzu he had had a crush on, then so be it. At least he knew she was nice and supportive and generous, more than just a pretty face, and that she would take care of his Yami.
Not that he needed to be taken care of, or his was his anymore. He would probably be the one taking care of Anzu; but either way, at least he would know they were both safe, and taken care of. He could be happy for them. Was. He had just been taken by surprise, that was all. There was no reason why he should not be happy. His friends were.
It must be the stress. That was it. First, that whole Kaiba Corp Grand Championship thing, then going to Egypt, that weird adventure thing in the Memory World (which he supposed wasn't really real at all, for him, being a memory), then the Ceremonial Battle and winning, and losing despite winning because Yami left, and then getting him back and him having a real body, and Bakura returning too, and the excitement and, and, and. . . .
Yugi took a deep breath, holding it and cutting off the mile-a-minute whirl of thoughts. Yes, it was definitely the stress. And now that Yami had his own body, he needed to get used to the fact that the former Spirit didn't have to go everywhere with him anyone and most likely didn't want to.
His breath gusted out of him, dropping his shoulders, and the boy stood, carefully picking up the items on the counter and dutifully replacing them in the fridge. Then he returned to the table and picked up the plate, dumping the untouched sandwich in the trash. He wasn't hungry.
His hand trailed along the wall as he left the kitchen and moved through the living room back to the Shop. He stepped quietly, trying not to break the silence that hung over the room, and flipped the sign back to open. He jumped a little as the lock clicked, then walked slowly, dreamily back to the counter. He had the strangest feeling that if he moved too quickly, too suddenly, something would break.
The boy plucked a magazine from one of the nearby shelves and flipped it open. It would distract him from his boredom while he waited for a customer. And when Yami got back, maybe they could talk about his date with Anzu. Who knew, maybe she could even get him to talk about what was bothering him.
Yugi looked out the window then, sorrow and hope twining through him. Quietly, he turned the page.
o/o/o/o/o
Yami wasn't home by the time Yugi closed the shop for real at six o'clock. He'd had only four more customers the entire day and none in the last hour and a half. One of them had been a teenager who came in with his girlfriend. They had walked around arm-in-arm, the girl occasionally giggling at something the other said. He had been glad when they left.
He swept the floor, wiped the counters, straightened the shelves . . . all with the sign turned but the door unlocked, hoping Yami would get home before he was done. But he didn't. The lock clicked home with a soft thud when he turned it and the lights died without a sound when he flipped the switch, unless you counted the sharp thock of the switch itself.
He left the lights off in the living room and kitchen, deciding he didn't need them, the light from the setting sun streaming through the windows still enough to see by. He pulled a frozen dinner from the freezer that was probably a year old and was carrying it to the living room on a tray five minutes later, steam rising in a thin, ghostly stream. He still wasn't hungry, but he thought he could eat it.
Ten minutes more saw Yugi perched on the couch with a movie playing on the TV, dinner in his lap, only half paying attention to the opening credits. He kept listening for the sound of the back door opening. The first hour and a half slipped away without change. He put in another movie, but his eyes strayed more often to the clock by the mantle than flickering screen.
By nine o'clock, he was asleep, half-sprawled across the arm of the couch, and he was still alone.