Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh
Update schedule: Every other day (no update on June 2nd)
Chapter Warnings: DETAILED Night Terrors (Mutilated Corpses, Blood, Dead Bodies)
Just a head's up, guys, but the next couple of chapters might be late. Something popped up. So, if I miss an update, don't be alarmed. I'll AT THE VERY LEAST manage to get one chapter out a week until it gets cleared up. Let's hope that's sooner rather than later.
Chapter XXIII: Blood
Work Log Entry XXIII: April, 1998
April 11
His eyes are still completely black but for the whites of them. He looks almost as if he is in a constant state of alarm and full of adrenaline because of this.
But the reflective quality has only grown.
And it has become obvious that he can see but his hearing and sense of smell are far superior.
We think there may have been permanent damage due to our neglect in his earlier days.
Yugi was still shaking pathetically when the first hour had passed. He'd woken sweating, face red with the amount of energy he'd spent trying to wake himself from that hideous nightmare. But at least he had not been bleeding.
Yami, on the other hand, had completely gouged his arms open. His wrists had been drenched, his skin torn to almost to his elbows. He'd been writhing and panicked even in his sleep. The bed had been soaked from it, the yellow comforter bright and hideous red.
It had taken him ten minutes to fully wake him. He'd shaken him, said his name until he thought his voice might fail him, and then finally covered his mouth with his hand and pinched his nose. As he had expected, Yami had very abruptly woken due to the strangulation.
But what he had done after that had nearly knocked Yugi off his feet.
The red-eyed teen hadn't recognized him in the least. His eyes had been dilated hideously, his expression so overtaken with terror, and he was deathly still. Yugi had at first thought to ask if he was okay. But then the other had reacted. He'd been thrown on his back with the other boy straddling him. His hands were around his neck, his teeth bared. He was squeezing tightly but the entire situation had left Yugi merely looking up at him.
And then Yami had somehow reached the conclusion in his own mind that the small teen was not a threat. His hands slippery and heated from the blood on them, he had drawn his grip from his neck. He'd stared at him, at first glance confused but with an unsteady terror that seemed to very quickly rise up and swallow him whole.
Yugi had managed only to get him to remain near him long enough to bandage the hideous cuts he'd inflicted on himself. But then the other boy had seemingly vanished. He had looked away for only a moment, and then turned back to find not a trace of him. Had it not been for the blood on his comforter and the terror which had come upon his face in his mind, he would have assumed it was part of his dream.
Yugi shivered violently as he turned his head to glance over his shoulder towards the hallway. He had not gone back into the room since. But he knew he had to change the comforter and replace it with another one or at the very least throw it into the wash before his mom and grandpa woke up. If they were to see the mess of bright red and the way it had dripped all the way down seemingly to the floor in such thick rivulets…
He shuddered and turned away again immediately. Now that Yami was not there, his head felt sickeningly unbalanced. It was lighter than usual, with a painful throbbing in the front. It was not as if he was going to have a migraine, and he recognized it for its obvious fear-induced existence. But it still made him grimace and the way it seemed to travel back to the far corner of his skull made him shiver. It was like something living and writhing there, worming itself into his thoughts with persistence.
But if he focused on it, he was sure his mind would fall on his nightmare. And to have that happen made him want to sob.
Yugi raised a hand, brushing it through his long bangs, and chewed the inside of his cheek until it bled hideously against his tongue. The taste made him shiver and his heart seemed to burst within his chest as it raced harder. His hands were shaking again, harder than before, as he lowered them to the table in front of him. He traced patterns across the tablecloth, feeling sickened by his inability to do anything further.
He waited until some of the more persistent tremors had faded slightly. It seemed to take days before his body began to calm itself. It was not further than resisting the quake of his shoulders and the twist of his gut coiling so violently. But it still allowed him enough peace to settle back against his chair more comfortably.
He was not sure where Yami had run off to.
But he almost wished he could join him.
Or that Yami would stay there for a long time.
The thought made him feel disloyal and childish, but the terror he'd seen on his face, the way his eyes had been so hideously wide and dilated, how he had looked at his fingers so soaked in blood with a horrified and exhausted expression, made him reluctant to wish otherwise. He felt sick with disgust, beyond himself with the vividness of the images which coursed behind his closed eyelids.
He had failed to tell Yami about the first occurrence of the dream, so similar and hideous that he had felt too sick to speak of it. But the other boy had woken from his panicked panting, had watched him as if he thought he was going to flee at any moment.
Flashes of white and the thick smell of copper assaulted his eyes and nose as if summoned. He flinched. His eyes shot around. He hadn't even seen the bones clearly. He hadn't seen…
The entrails were more apparent than—
He nearly sobbed again, shaking his head harshly. His head was throbbing now.
Maybe if he took some medication, he could simply turn it all off. Maybe if he ignored his terror long enough to function in the effort to regain some calm, he could take his medication and not have these foggy images every time he blinked.
Yet, he could not make himself move towards the bathroom. He was too shaken to put his weight on his legs again.
He lowered his eyes to the table, narrowing them.
They'd been calling his name.
Those hideous, disgusting writhing forms of exposed muscle and sinew and flowing blood and dripping entrails had been calling his name.
Yugi shuddered and glanced at the time on the microwave. He had about five minutes before his mom got up. He had about ten before she would come check on him.
He jumped to his feet. His balance was undone and his knees felt as if they might buckle beneath his weight, but he still made his way towards his bedroom.
Yami kept his nose to the ground. In an attempt to calm his nerves, he'd gone about taking on the task of hunting. But he was not hungry, and the residual fear of the dream made him feel sickened.
So he stalked instead, chased and turned away again when they got far enough ahead of him. He gave chase for only a few minutes, padding briskly and powerfully. He did not sprint fully. He would need his energy later. He knew it instinctively.
So he padded on softened snow, the ice having turned to delicate slush, and scented the air to find the hint of frost and water which announced new snowfall approaching. Lazily he twitched his nose and pressed it to the ground again, scenting and shivering. His insides were still like liquid from the fear which still held him so tightly.
They'd been calling for Yugi first. They'd been—
They had been carcasses.
They'd been strung up by their spines.
They had been screaming.
They'd been calling and calling and—
He missed his step and fell face first to the floor.
Terror made his limbs quake.
Blood began to ooze from the newly inflicted wounds.
He shuddered.
When he breathed, he was wheezing.
Yami pressed his chin into the ground, then twisted his face to push his cheek into the snow. His body trembled and burst with pain. His heart raced in his chest. His lungs twisted harshly. He breathed out roughly. He gasped and wheezed. His claws twitched. His fur shuddered and rippled.
He almost whimpered for all the pain in his body.
But it was not truly bodily. It was mental duress. It was pain and ache brought on by broken thoughts and bleeding memories. And it was fear and his own blood draining on the earth which made him unable to think past it.
He shivered and tugged a paw towards his face. The pad of it was harsh and calloused and cold. But it dripped with his blood as well. It heated briefly then seemed to grow crystalline. He shivered and closed his eyes tightly.
They had been calling his name.
They had called Yugi first.
But they had called him as well.
They had danced under a darkened, bleeding red and orange rustic sky where ravens circled and cawed. They had twisted and writhed and growled and chomped their teeth. They had belted out the most terrible of melodies in order to make them tremble. Their blood had fallen in thick droplets, their cries hideous and morphed.
They had called his name.
But they had called Yugi first.
He trembled and opened his eyes again. The forest looked almost gray, blackened with his despair and desperation. He wanted to bury away the horror of that nightmare. He wanted to outrun it and leave it far behind.
But his mind was always caught on things. And racing never did more than wind him. And his stomach dropped with hatred. And his legs ached from their incisions.
He allowed his breath to come in a shudder. It was weak and hideous, a rasping quality underlining it. But it reminded him again of something more vital than even that nightmare.
He was alive.
The air was stirred with his exhales.
He could see the proof of his own breaths even if he could not feel it.
He could watch it.
He could hear it.
He could not feel it.
But his sense of touch had been warped for a while, he felt. It had been on the precipice of disappearance and overload for so long he had all but forced himself to forget it. Smell was far superior, and sight was necessary. Hearing was his most important. But taste and touch seemed simply to be there.
He raised his head again, then drew in a new breath, and climbed to his feet. Lying about would do him no good. If anything he suspected it would get him killed.
He forced his thoughts away. He could not focus on the way the muscle had dropped in velvety chunks of decay. He could not think of how the blood had fallen in rivers. He could not be caught in the image of their lifeless eyes. Or the ones that had already decayed so far that the organs were maggot-ridden in their dark sockets.
He pushed himself forward, at first shakily, and then trotting as swiftly as he could. He would not sprint. Running would do him no good. He could not outrun such horror in his mind. So he kept his pace and pushed through the trees with a shaky sincerity which made him quiver.
Yami was halfway through the forest when the first stone popped up. He slowed, at first suspicious. Was it a trap? And what kind of trap could it be? He padded on much softer, lighter, unsure feet. He took small steps, sniffing heavily each time. But all he could smell was recently disturbed earth. It was harsh, rancid in his nose, and his stomach quivered pathetically.
He did not like the more pristine smell which touched his senses. He did not like the way the air seemed to grow somehow heavier. It was burdensome to come into the area which this stone rested.
Yet, he found his curiosity insatiable and his heart quivering behind his ribs did nothing to stop it.
He slowed further.
It was agonizing. The movements were too heavy. They were too soft. They were too infrequent. He was moving too slowly. He was moving too quickly. He shivered. He twitched. He turned his head. He looked back.
Something about this stone was surreal to him. Nothing leaped out to attack as he got to the side of it. There was no shock of electricity. No net was flung forward. Not a single thing came to him. As he looked about himself once, there was no hint of foreboding any longer. His tension eased slightly. But he did not allow his guard to lower any further.
He would not allow himself to be caught off guard.
Yami looked at the stone. It was oddly obtrusive. It was smoothed at the top into an arch, but covered so firmly in ice that it looked like a mere dune of snow. Had he not been paying such attention, so incredibly tense, he would assume it to be so. But as he sniffed it and tilted his head, he knew better. It was not a simple stone.
It was carved. It had been formed unto such perfect proportion.
He narrowed his eyes, flicking his ears. He could not hear anything at the moment. He could not smell more than that smoldering displaced earth scent. He scanned this slab of stone, eyes flickering about the smooth surface.
As expected, letters and characters had been drawn into it, etched with delicate detail. It was a name, a series of dates. It was, as he looked at it, only a span of thirteen years. And, studying it further, his mind began to rapidly provide him the name of such a stone.
It was a grave marker. It held the name of the person buried beneath it. They were six feet beneath that slab. They were—
Rotting, decaying, their flesh unidentifiable, their bones polished from years—
He flinched away. He backed up several steps.
A noise made him stop short. He bristled, freezing in place. His heart raced. His eyes grew owlish with horror.
Was it a trap?
Had he somehow sprung something?
Were there hunters, waiting in the bushes?
Were they going to kill him?
Or attempt to breed him endlessly or—?
It was a rough, scraping, tearing noise.
He stiffened, then blinked and turned his head. He pricked his ears. His eyes strained but he could not focus. There were rows of them, he noticed now. There were rows of gravestones, all precise measurements apart from each other. They were all dispersed about the trees and their narrow trunks. The undergrowth was thicker here than elsewhere he had seen, with the trees far less and thinner than he had noticed. He supposed it made sense. The area was only becoming reclaimed by the forest. This made it harder for the trees to grow back in place as they would have otherwise.
He crept forward, drawn by this noise. It sounded like what he knew to be earth struck by long nails. It sounded like he thought to be the ground splitting beneath the force of someone's touch. So he kept himself as quiet as he could, his movements small and slow.
He did not want a fight in his position now.
He was sure if one were to begin, he would lose.
His mind was still so scattered, trying so terribly hard to reach for the nightmare again. And he could not risk a fight if he was unable to defend himself. So he watched his exhales, breathing long and slow, and took small and almost unnoticeable steps. He shuffled and pressed soft weight into each limb, the noise of his crunching movements so soft it was but a whisper.
Yami paused as the earthen smell became more poignant. He flicked his ears, training them for any noise. He steeled his muscles, then crept forward again.
At first he saw nothing.
As he glanced about himself in the low light, he could detect nothing.
The scraping noise continued.
It was accompanied by a snapping noise.
Something cracked and splintered.
He tilted his head, listening harder. He could not pinpoint it exactly.
Then he turned his head and froze in place. The earth was disturbed there. Clumps of hard, frozen dirt had been strewn about. It was around a rather spindly tree which looked easily overthrown by the wind. It was covered in snow, weighted pathetically. He calculated it would either grow stronger in spring or die away during this winter. Its roots were untouched. But before it, about a foot away, was another marker.
And in front of that, was the dirt.
Yami tilted his head further. The scraping of claws and the crackling noise were fresh in his ears. It burned and singed his skin. He shivered beneath his large pelt. Then he looked about himself again.
There was another, heavier crunching noise. He shifted forward only an inch, then crouched low to the ground. Instinct told him that cover was needed. He did not want to investigate at the risk of he himself being discovered. If a fight happened, he was as good as dead.
Yet he could not manage to pull himself forward again. Instead he remained there, pressing his belly to the ground. The snow made his body ache for a split second. He closed his eyes tiredly. Then he pressed his jaw against his paws.
The crunching noise persisted. He searched his memory. It was a familiar noise…
Yet he could not place it for a moment. The snapping noise grew louder. Then he heard a softer but still distinct crunch. His body quivered faintly. He kept his eyes closed.
What would one do in the graveyard?
Yami could not understand in that moment why it was that he did not scent the air and think to find out for himself. It would be so easy. But he failed to do so. Something about it all made him feel exhausted, forced him to lay his head down and rest. He did not sleep, but he remained there for a good while.
The clouds had just begun to dust the world with new snow when he opened his eyes again. He scented the air, surprised when a flake melted in his nose, then stopped short. There was a low and distinct humming noise. As he raised his head, a large black form had leaped out of the uneven dip within the earth before his eyes. It was almost his size, with floppy ears and a coat that looked far too shaggy to ever be considered glossy or soft. And its tail was so long it almost scraped the earth.
He tilted his head, then looked towards the gravestone. A sense of clarity that had somehow eluded him before came to him now.
It was a hellhound. And it had chosen to eat a fresher grave in what almost seemed to be a forgotten yard. It had chosen not to hunt for live prey, but to feast on the dead. It had dug up the grave. The noise he'd heard…
The humming grew louder. The hellhound was a few long yards from him. He drew himself into a crouch. Something was wrong. He was so tense his body shivered with it. In fine jerks and trembles, Yami peered forward into the dim lighting of a morning still in the embrace of dawn and overshadowed with dustings of snow. And what he saw made him freeze in place.
Had he felt any kinship with the creature before him, he might have risked his own safety.
But he knew nothing of it.
And he had no ties to hellhounds as a whole.
Lycanthropes and hellhounds were animals that did not particularly interact unless forced. But they also were peaceful with one another for the most part. As subspecies it was more a basis of acknowledging each other and going about their own ways.
But Yami knew, in that single moment, that cowardice and bravery were far from the same.
And while he could have helped, his forte seemed to lie with the former.
So he backed up as the taser was sprung.
When the hound dropped, so did he race away.
Yugi was not sure what he had expected to find when Yami had returned. He did not know whether he thought he would be as shaken as he himself had remained or calmer. He did not know if he thought he would be upset or still clearly terrified.
But, whatever he had expected, it was not for Yami to be trying to bandage his own arms and shaking so hard that the tape kept catching on itself. He was trembling pathetically, his form wracked with them. He was breathing heavily, almost panting, and his eyes were dilated with a fear that Yugi could never truly hope to grasp.
He hesitated for a moment, glancing about them slowly. Yami had snatched one of the darker towels to put on his lap. He must have been using it to soak up the blood. The wounds were bleeding so heavily it was as if they were fresh again.
Yugi shivered. "Here, let me," he muttered softly, taking a small step forward. Yami startled but did not object. He did not raise his eyes, either, as the smaller boy approached him, instead breathing in harder. It almost sounded as if he were sobbing and choking on the noise.
Yugi forced himself to ignore the urge to demand that he was okay. Instead he licked his lips to keep from letting out a noise of his own, and took a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. Yami did not flinch away from him as he took the tape. Yugi was not sure Yami saw the shakiness in his fingers or noticed his hesitance in even glancing at him fully. But should he have, there was never a comment.
He wiped the wounds clean, cursing under his breath at the state of them, and sighed softly. "You need stitches again," he stated in a small voice, looking up at him for the first time. Yami had been watching him before, but when his eyes came up, his head snapped away. He did not speak, but the small boy knew he was not going to.
Whatever had happened had rattled him further. He shook his head and picked through the kit he had laid a few inches away from him. He dug out the needles and sutures, frowning and working in threading it for a moment. He wanted to ask. It was a heavy temptation.
But the words that came out instead were "I'll make you a shake and get you some medicine, okay?"
Yami jerked, a sloppy nod. He was quivering. The fine trembles made Yugi's heart ache. He had to choke back the sob that threatened to leave him.
"Good," he murmured softly. He stilled his hands long enough to thread the wound together on his left arm, tying and snipping it. By the gods, it looked like Yami had killed someone and attempted to do the same to himself. Yugi felt sick just looking at it.
Hadn't he seen enough blood just from that dream alone?
There had been that river and—
He stopped that thought in its tracks. Immediately he began to thread a needle again, hissing his displeasure in an uneven breath. Yami remained perfectly verbally silent beside him, trembling finely and breathing in those ragged gasping noises as if he were choking on the air itself.
Yugi focused as he would on a surgery with his mom. His only thoughts circulated around blood loss, sealing the wound, and disinfectant. When he wrapped his arms up and looked them over, checking that no blood stained the outside, he finally let himself relax slightly.
"I'll go get your shake and some medicine, okay?"
Yami nodded as unevenly as he had before. Yugi watched him for a long minute and a half, studying his face. Even with his head turned away as it was, he could see that blank, dead look in his eyes. His lashes did nothing to block it and the glazed expression only worked to make his skin seem paler than ever. Yugi tried not to see the way his eyes lent to a more aged expression, a shadow there which made him appear far older.
He shivered, then got to his feet. "Be right back," he mumbled unnecessarily. He knew instinctively that Yami would not leave now. But he feared for a moment that if he was not looking at him, he'd find that he had never been back to the house in the first place.
When he got to the door he had to glance back. His fingers were touching the knob, his breathing was somewhat uneven, and his eyes were wide. The other boy, however, was merely looking at his wrists, am expression of keen despair coloring his face. Yugi couldn't figure out what it was that had caused him to look so downtrodden but it shook him to his core to see it so vividly.
When Yami flexed his fingers, staring at where they were still darkened by dried blood, the small teen shivered and turned away. Something had scared the taller teen to the point of terror and absolute horror. Something had happened in the woods and now he was suffering for it.
Because he knew it had not been merely the dream to do such a thing. Yami had been scared and terrified but he'd also been able to stop his shaking long enough to let him bandage him. And his wounds had not been as bad. He'd not needed sutures before, just gauze and tape and wrapping. He'd been perfectly fine beyond that.
And Yugi knew he must have changed at some point. His clothes were soaked from lying in the snow but they were void of most of the blood. A few splotches colored his knees and his right thigh but somehow he had managed to keep it from his jeans until he'd gotten inside. But, knowing he'd changed, why was it that he hadn't healed? He'd most likely gone hunting so why had he failed to heal properly? It made no sense.
He shivered, mixing the powder and milk together with a glance over his shoulder. His mom had gone to the main clinic and his grandpa was at the supermarket getting some food. He and Yami were completely alone, as they normally were. But it still jarred him slightly. His stomach tossed and twisted. His hands were still shaking finely. He tossed the spoon in the sink, then made his way back towards the room.
Yami was in the exact same place as when he had left. He was staring, eyes darkened with that same horror and despair, and that glazed expression had not changed. He was completely unfocused, his eyes giving away an amount of stress that Yugi himself thought he had most likely never experienced before. It was terrifying to see him in such a way now, shaken and disturbed and undone by it all.
"Here," he whispered, unable to raise his voice. It scratched itself out of its throat and blistered his tongue. There was a bitter, almost acidic tinge that came with the word and he shivered at the taste.
Yami blinked, turning and raising his head. He looked unnaturally confused by his presence there, but forced it away in order to take the glass from him. He was lucky he had not filled it completely as he would have before, because the way the liquid was jostled made it clear he would have soaked the comforter.
Yugi looked away again quickly.
"I'm going to go get you some medicine."
He should have grabbed that first. Or at least before he came into the room again. He felt stupid and irreparably small for such a mistake. Here Yami was, trembling and distressed, and he was prolonging everything he could think of that might help to make him feel better.
Yugi hurried off to get something for him. He wanted to puke and the toilet looked bright and shiny and inviting, but he didn't want to waste anymore time. He ignored his rolling stomach, the way his heart was beginning to pound too quickly, and rushed to take the lid off and shake a pill out into his hand. He was back in his room beside Yami before he could even fully think it through.
When he turned this time, his red eyes were darker and his pupils blown. But the glaze was gone though the abundance of fear and sorrow were not. He was still displaced somewhere in the back of his mind, but it was apparent that he was somewhat more focused. When he took the pill from him, Yugi moved to make his way towards the bathroom. The bile was scorching a path up his throat.
But the other boy moved suddenly. His fingers, shaking and weak, grasped at his wrist. It was a light, almost gossamer sensation, and it was not truly a grip to be held but a simple brush of his fingers along his pulse. Yami was staring at where he'd touched him. His eyes were haunted and shadowed, but his focus was entirely on his skin rather than the things that so hideously twisted in his mind.
He did not open his mouth nor did he even blink. But his fingers ghosted over his pulse a second time. Then he shifted forward, tilting his head. Yugi was shaken when he realized that he was so close, with such a fractional shift, in order to hear his heart in his chest. He did not move to press his ear to it, but he could hear it from the small distance he sat from him.
Yugi was trembling finely with the shock of such discovery. His heart was racing faster and his stomach was tossing more violently. Yet the nauseous sensation had spilled away into mere tension. Yami was not looking at his face, so he did not see the heartbroken and terrified expression on his face. But he wondered if he could sense it.
The seconds passed, stretching into a handful of minutes, and then Yami shifted away.
He took the pill Yugi had been holding out, brushing the tips of his fingers against his palm, and turned back to his cup. He took a few sips, tasting it, and then popped it into his mouth and downed the rest of the beverage. He placed it on top of the metal desk and then moved away from the bed as if it might burn him.
He did not open his mouth nor did he even blink. But his fingers ghosted over his pulse a second time. Then he shifted forward, tilting his head. Yugi was shaken when he realized that he was so close, with such a fractional shift, in order to hear his heart in his chest. He did not move to press his ear to it, but he could hear it from the small distance he sat from him.
Yugi was trembling finely with the shock of such discovery. His heart was racing faster and his stomach was tossing more violently. Yet the nauseous sensation had spilled away into mere tension. Yami was not looking at his face, so he did not see the heartbroken and terrified expression on his face. But he wondered if he could sense it.
The seconds passed, stretching into a handful of minutes, and then Yami shifted away.
He took the pill Yugi had been holding out, brushing the tips of his fingers against his palm, and turned back to his cup. He took a few sips, tasting it, and then popped it into his mouth and downed the rest of the beverage. He placed it on top of the metal desk and then moved away from the bed as if it might burn him.
The position had to be a miserable one but he dare not move him.
Yami had reacted so badly to him when he had woken him before. And he had still been so visibly tense. He had remained shaky until the moment he had fallen asleep. He was visibly undone by the way he looked even in his restful state. There was a hideous and disturbing tension in his shoulders which made them taut. His fingers were sunk into the carpet, gripping the fibers with sharp nails. His bowed head blocked the sight of his neck but he was sure it was corded.
Yugi shivered, then looked away. He wasn't having a nightmare. If he was, he would have been digging at his wrists again.
He looked at his own hands for a moment. His nails had grown a little darker, had become more resistant to breaks. He had caught one in his desk drawer the night before and the keratin had bent but had not broken. He'd been amazed and disconcerted. Now he saw them and he found himself wondering if his own nails could slice so easily into his flesh as Yami's did.
Yami had torn through flesh and sinew all the way to the bone again as he had once before. He was sure now that it had not been an attack or an accident which had caused the other's hideous wounds the first time he had come to the clinic that night.
He shivered.
How long ago had he done so? How long had it been since he had been seated on his doorstep, licking his bleeding wrists in an effort to stem them? How much time had passed since he had first bandaged them and woken in the night to Yami clawing them again?
It felt like an eternity. But he knew it had only been a handful of days, weeks at the most. Had a month even passed yet? He could not remember, but he did not think so.
Yugi looked away from himself and glanced at Yami again. That nightmare—was that why he had woken those couple of nights to him wide awake and watching him? Was that what had caused him to stare at him in the darkness and then leave his side as if he might scald him?
Had he somehow had a nightmare so similar to his that he had been watching for it?
He nearly laughed at himself. No, it wasn't just similar; it was the exact same nightmare. Yami had been in his dream somehow. They'd shared this nightmare. The wolves had been calling to them both…
The first time the dream occurred the day before, he had assumed it was because of the things which Yami had mentioned hunters doing to captured werewolves. He had been entirely sure that this was the reasoning behind his horrifying and darkened dreamscape. He had assumed the ravens to be the scavengers meant to feast on a caught wolf's decrepit flesh. He had thought the voice to be a hunter sneering his name.
Now he knew differently. The ravens which shed their feathers like drops of blood had not been his imagination. And the writhing forms of the wolves as they rose in waves were nothing fear had borne in his mind. The way the skeletons snarled and snapped at him as he stood there trembling had not been dogs morphed in his mind's eye.
They had been something he could not fully fathom. Were they warnings? Were they dead wolves?
His brown-specked gray muzzle had been drenched with foaming saliva, blood drizzling from the crevices. The white beneath the bridge of his nose had been soaked with the discoloration, bright red and almost black against the shadows. The dark gray of the fur surrounding his eyes, following the stops of them in jagged downward currents, had been almost glued together, stringy from the liquid soaking them there.
His dark gray eyes had glinted like ice, frozen and scornful, his lighter tawny and silver brows pulling together. His black ears had pricked forward, the hairs of them beginning to rapidly shed away. When he had stepped forward, his throat was open in a gaping wound, blood and sinew falling away. The ringlet of black and dark brown above the tawny undercoat had shuddered and begun to drop, soft tufts of fur that glistened. Yugi had been amazed by the blood and the way his throat had shown bright red beneath the falling fur, the entirety of muscle broken and fading before his eyes.
His head had lowered, a snarl forming on his lips. And the fur along his back, naturally raised in a jagged line along the dorsal cape, had looked like a glacier of silver tipped with black. All along his body the fur had been formerly beautiful was stripped away to leave pale or bleeding flesh in its wake. Where the patch of black had shown on his shoulders, blood welled in a river. The black guard hairs that held away sight of his tawny undercoat fell like jagged needles and his back legs, a mixture of white and gold, had been simply red…
When Yugi had turned his head to look in the direction the gray wolf was staring, he'd found him there. He was only a few feet away, crouched low to the ground with his fur in a bristle. His ears were laid back, his eyes dilated hideously, and he was shaking so violently he looked like he was being jostled by the unearthly, disgusting wind which occasionally whipped forth. That acrid scent still burned Yugi's nose as he thought of it now.
The chanting of his own name from voices which he had never known nor would ever come to do so, had changed immediately to Yami's own. And from the masses of decaying bodies had come seven wolves, each of them in pairs but for the last whom Yami had cowed before with such terror that Yugi had been heartbroken around his own fear.
There had been a large, chocolate brown one with small streaks of black along the paws and shoulders and eyes of ice. There was a smaller, mottled gray with an almost bluish tint where it was touched with black and its gangly white forelimbs, eyes a disturbing shade of gray with spots of brown.
From behind them was a she-wolf with similar eyes and a coat so pale white it seemed to shimmer with streaks of silver and something almost like soft blue to match her eyes. Then came a she-wolf that was predominantly golden, with patches of bright silver like moonlight and long legs of both colors with eyes that were speckled with something reddish around deep brown.
Then was a taller male with darker gray fur that bordered on black, with slivers of silver and brown along the muzzle and eyes of deep gray and splashes of gold and blue. The final was a large and beautiful, handsome, dark gray male with longer white legs and a face of sharp and square features and long jaw, with the most mesmerizing of sea green with halos of teal color.
The first six had been emaciated beyond belief, with skeletal frames that were still in tact unlike the creatures which surrounded them. The last was well-built, with strong muscle sharpened with youth, and had looked healthy enough that Yugi almost assumed him to be living.
And then it had spoken, in a voice very much like that of rolling thunder with an undertone of crackling lightning, the timbre of it beautifully baritone. It was somewhat familiar to Yugi, as if he had heard it but once before, and he had nearly drowned in the tone of it.
But then it had moved closer. And the most heart-wrenching noise Yugi had ever heard burst within his ears. It was a shattered and hollow noise, so pained as to be in response to a mortal wound, and the smaller white wolf spun around with a horrified expression.
Yami had been pressed further to the ground, gaping up at this new form. He had let out that unearthly noise of despair again, a scream which made the world shake and shatter around them. Beneath their feet the earth had shifted and the mass of dead wolves had snarled and chomped their teeth in response to his fear.
The world separated and changed under them. As they stood, it shattered and fell in chunks like smooth, broken glass. Yugi yelped. Yami gaped at the large green-eyed gray male and let out that shattered noise again. Then they plummeted.
When they fell, the earth seemed to surge and shift. Ripples of something almost like power and hatred curled upwards and pushed outwards all at once. The world beneath looked like a writhing mass of fur that had been shed by millions of bodies. And beneath its fluffy plumage, they dropped into a river. The depth of it was surreal, encompassing them at first before both pushed their ways upwards once more.
It was only when their noses were above the surface, muzzles drenched, both choking for air, that Yugi saw that it was not water. The expanse of it was a dark, hideous color, the surface shiny enough to make his fur stand on end. But the scent was thick, drenching his insides and coating his senses so that he choked on air. His fur was stained, his paw covered in that oily liquid.
Blood. They had landed in a pool of blood...
Yugi squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Then he opened them into mere slits. He peered towards him from beneath his lashes. Yami was still fast asleep. He was still resting in that same unnatural position. His arms were still completely encased in gauze and tape. His legs were still splayed out before him.
He had panicked when the corpses had grabbed them. Like Yami, he had flailed and snarled and snapped. He'd sunk his teeth in and wailed in hideous disgust at the taste which greeted him. He'd thrashed and screamed and tried to tear away from them. Teeth had caught in his fur and claws had hooked his skin. The blood had welled up, swallowing them and drowning them.
He had woken first. It was when a large black raven dove for his face, talons stretched and eyes a horrid blazing red, that he had jerked awake. He'd been choking and panting. He had thrashed and flailed pathetically. He had squirmed and writhed and choked harder on the lack of air.
And then he'd realized Yami was still asleep. And waking him had proven difficult to do. It had proven beyond his ability at first. He swallowed thickly now, watching the other boy, and closed his eyes tightly as he shook such a thought away again.
Thinking about it would make it worse. And to make it worse would cause Yami to suffer more than he already seemed to be. He knew the other would figure out what was on his mind.
And if he knew that he suspected that he'd had that dream many times before, what might he do? Would he make a run for it? In his panicked state and the way he had come home as well…Yugi wasn't sure. But he definitely thought it a possibility.
He crossed his legs and settled more comfortably against the headboard. The black towel was bundled on the desk a foot away. The first aid kit had been stuffed under the bed. He wondered if Yami would wake up more comfortable or even further distressed. He was not sure which he thought would be more likely.
Yami tended to surprise him at times.
He closed his eyes, heaviness weighing his limbs and making his lids too laden to lift again. For a while Yugi lost himself somewhere in the darkness, then his eyes snapped open again at the hint of a hissing noise. He blinked and quickly scanned the room around him before stopping short. His reaction had caused Yami to freeze in place from where he had been shifting into a more comfortable position.
They looked at each other, the frustration and disdain on the taller teen's face visible and clear. He must have scared him when he opened his eyes so suddenly. No doubt Yami had been watching him in the hope of not waking him.
He shifted to sit forward, licking his lips because his mouth felt too dry. He bit the inside of his cheek for a moment. "How are your arms?" he asked quietly.
Yami glanced at them dismissively, then looked up and shrugged in a sharp movement. The irritable disdain had not left his expression, lending it a more keen focus.
Yugi tilted his head, staring at him. "Wow, you're extraordinarily agitated now, aren't you?" he muttered, rolling his eyes.
The other boy blinked and then shifted his weight. His eyes remained shaded with slight irritation but his formerly hardened expression grew somewhat softer. His brows furrowed slightly and he frowned at him with something almost crestfallen to match his frustration.
Yugi sighed. "I didn't say that to make you feel guilty." He shifted his weight on the mattress, pursing his lips slightly, and tilted his head as he watched him a moment longer. "Go back to sleep, Yami."
Yami blinked wide eyes, so startled that all of his irritation left him immediately. He tilted his head, unable to stop himself, and peered at him stupidly in confusion. Then he pressed himself more pointedly against the wall.
First he pointed out that he was upset, then he told him to go to sleep?
What kind of sense did that make to him?
He frowned deeply at him, tilting his head further.
Yugi shook his head and offered him a small smile. "Go back to sleep, Yami. I'll wake you up before I go to school tomorrow."
He hadn't slept that long though. He knew that much. He furrowed his brows.
"I planned on letting you sleep through dinner. I'll make you a shake in the morning before I leave. I'll see what I can make you for breakfast."
He blinked, then nodded slowly.
The smaller teen smiled a little more, giving him a more reassuring look that made his insides twist guiltily. How long was it before he got Yugi killed? He was foolish and he was young and all of his own choices so far had only amplified Yugi's own lack of understanding and vulnerability. He'd nearly gotten him killed in the woods. He was sure he had led the humans to him that last time. Something he had done…or failed to, it had nearly cost Yugi his life.
He was only sixteen. His life being so short should never have been a possibility in the first place. Sixteen was hardly anything. And to a werewolf? It was a tiny, miniscule, almost nonexistent blink. With such long lifespans and advanced immune systems, sixteen was nothing.
Sixteen was barely even long enough for a wolf to mourn their offspring.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Yugi was still watching him when he managed to fall into a blank darkness that encompassed his senses completely.
Yugi shifted under the covers for what felt like the millionth time. He'd been attempting for hours to sleep but all he had managed to do was irritate himself further. As he rolled over and peered at the window and then dragged his eyes towards the corner as he had several times already, he found the situation to now have changed. Formerly, Yami had been collapsed in that same limp heap of limbs he had first fallen asleep within.
But now, looking at him, his head was raised. His eyes were glittering in the darkness. His face was shadowed too much to take note of expression. But he was watching him. He was wide awake and his eyes were boring into his frame.
The small teen swallowed hard, then looked him over for a moment. "Yami?" he muttered, at first with some kind of hope that he might be feeling better and then with the sinking knowledge that he was far from it.
The silence stretched for a moment. The room ached with a long residing tension he had no idea how to ease. Then he caught the smallest of voices, weak and almost senseless, hissing as it slid through the air.
"Yugi."
His name did not sound as if it were a welcome addition to his voice. The hoarse rasp of the tone made his stomach drop, his heart pounding. Was he more upset now than before? What was he meant to say or do now?
Yugi shifted enough to see him more clearly. His eyes strained in the dark, but he could make him out now. His gaze adjusted and his vision sharpened as it bore into his skin with slight desperation. The other boy's face was far from irritated, but looked more crestfallen and tired than he had seen even earlier. The sight of the draw of his mouth, the set of his lips in a tight and firm line, the way his brows had pulled slightly forward, made him shiver. Yami looked as if the very task of acknowledgment had cost him what little energy he possessed.
He looked utterly exhausted.
Yugi felt his heart ache with despair.
"Are you okay?"
The words left his mouth before he could think them through. He immediately lowered his eyes to where Yami had drawn his hands into his lap. His long fingers were caught on the legs of his jeans. His palms were curled slightly to encompass the shape of them. And his legs were still splayed out before him.
He could not fathom hearing someone ask him such a question with the knowledge that nothing was truly okay to him. He shivered. He felt like an idiot.
Yami felt slightly guilty when he saw the startled and confused expression which crossed the other boy's face. But if he were to join him there, he thought he might puke. And he did not want that. He had no desire for such physical weakness. And the additional strain of newfound guilt would kill him.
He looked away again quickly, pulling his legs up to push his knees into his chest. He laid his chin on them, eyes locked on the fibers of the carpet, and ignored the way Yugi stared at him so pointedly.
Yugi sighed softly. "Okay," he muttered in a tone that too easily conveyed his slight frustration at such a response. He looked away again, towards the window for a moment, then shifted to stretch his arms over his legs and fight away a soft yawn. "If you change your mind, though, you're more than welcome to."
Yami shivered. "Thank you."
They fell into silence. The bed was lonely. The floor was desolate.
"So…the full moon is going to be here in a few days," he commented, feeling immediately young and stupid for bringing up such a topic. He knew Yami was well aware of the way the moon went about its phases, though he was unsure how. But he did know.
Yugi himself was becoming used to the sleeplessness that came with its approach. He found it entirely too frustrating to deal with in all actuality. Shouldn't he have been sleeping more? His body should be worn out by the Change itself, so why not allow it to rest instead?
Yami didn't look up from his nails. "I know."
His voice was gruff, almost irritable. Yugi hesitated even glancing at him at the sound of such an unfamiliar tone. The other boy was so often more polite and kind in manner. Whatever had shaken him so terribly the day before still remained with him. He could sense it, just he could see it in the hollow expression of his eyes whenever they'd locked earlier.
Yugi laid his head back on the pillow again. He hadn't bothered to truly get up today. He'd feigned illness to make his mother feel okay to allow him to stay home. Then he'd ignored the phone calls his friends had made to check on him. He'd disregarded the hunger that picked at his insides and the slight pain which throbbed in the back of his head due to such a decision. He'd even ignored the residual pain from his shoulder from the gunshot two days prior. He had remained lying in his bed, which felt unusually cold and oddly dissatisfying now, and not bothered even once to do anything more than stare at the window for the most part.
His attempts to nap had been hideously skewered by the bright flashes of blood in his vision and clumps of fur. He saw teeth and jaws stained red, soft ears split and ravens crying as fathers fell in immense droplets. He had failed even once to close his eyes more than for a few minutes at a time.
"You'll figure out how to tell when the moon is beginning its cycles too," he added quietly. Yugi jerked his attention to him now. Yami was not looking at him, however. He had pulled his legs to his chest again and was staring at the snow where it touched the panel and slowly began to melt. "All lycanthropes do."
He shivered. It felt so odd to somehow be clumped into such a vast majority by someone who had formerly been treating him as an individual.
Yugi supposed he should not blame that on Yami, however. It was most likely his own displeasure and discontent which made this seem so terrible and great, like an immense wall rising between them.
He licked his lips. "How long did it take you to figure it out?"
Yami blinked and then slowly turned his attention to his. His eyes glazed slightly but then sharpened, his voice almost a sneer of disdain. "I was always aware," he stated simply. Yet, the way his tone seemed to flicker made him appear almost brittle in noise. Yugi shivered, staring at him with what seemed more terrified an expression than he had ever truly worn before. "I was made sure of it."
He bit his lip until it bled, then looked away quickly again. He made a mental note to no longer bring up anything that could possibly allude to the past that Yami so clearly wished to ignore. If he even thought it hinted towards such knowledge, he would save his breath and bite his tongue.
Ever since Yami had said he'd been around the wrong people, not only had Yugi often wondered what they might have done to make him say such a thing, but he'd also tried his hardest to avoid the topic. His curiosity being sated was not worth the potential alienation he knew would come between them should he press too hard to know. And Yami was allowed to have some secrets. It was within anyone's right to do so.
Yugi tried his hardest not to think of that in the first place. By the gods, he would have been the largest hypocrite to exist should he have demanded answers. He still lacked the ability to find the words to tell his friends about what was going on and why he'd lied to Anzu about his inability to date at the moment.
He shivered at the thought, pulling the blankets further up towards his throat. He had not considered his own relationship with her put so heavily on hold in what felt like a lifetime. He curled a hand around the blanket, glancing at Yami again and feeling somewhat sickened. When did he deem him well enough that he would no longer feel the need to baby him as he did so now?
He did not think it would be anytime soon. After all, Yami had seemingly relapsed and curled in on himself more than anything now. His words had only further upset him. It was as if every little breath would trigger a landmine and he was not fully prepared to deal with the backlash of it all. He knew well how badly Yami would continue to react and to put him through that and leave him to deal with it alone was something that Yugi was not willing to do.
Yugi turned and rolled away so that he could no longer face him or the window any longer. It made his stomach ache too hard to wish for something of that magnitude any longer.
He shivered again, staring at the wall, and then glanced at his phone where it rested beside the lamp there. He considered picking it up and pulling it towards him, possibly to check the time or maybe listen to the voicemails his friends had left him.
But instead he pushed the thought aside and lay there for as long as he could. It seemed like hours had passed when he finally rolled back over, hungry and slightly flustered, and sat upright. When he stretched his arms out in front of him and narrowed his eyes around a soft yawn, not once did Yami bother to look up again.
But Yugi saw him and took note of the new appearance that greeted him there. His eyes widened and his brows rose in confusion. Yami sat in his corner, a bundle of teal green material in his lap, the fabric fondled by his long fingers. He stroked it as if it were a living creature, a small animal in need of affection. It was a strange sight for Yugi to take in, and his gut churned with confusion.
What was it about that teal jacket? It had no buttons, no zipper. It had two large pockets on either side, comfortably set for one to rest their hands inside. It was a uniform color, with a shinier material that glittered slightly in the sunlight from the window. The entire design was much like his school uniform jacket but for its singularity in shade and the material. His own was fleece on the inside and well insulated for Hokkaido considering the low temperature which draped over the island even in the summer months.
Yugi would have assumed it to possess the same purpose had it not been for the fact that Yami had told him on numerous occasions he had never been to school before. And he was not sure of any school within Hokkaido which used that shade of color for their uniform.
He had never seen that exact shade or design before in Japan as it was. So maybe it was…from a friend who was from the states? Perhaps he had come across it or was given it when he asked? If Yami had desired the color, he was sure he would have simply inquired about asking for it.
The small teen pressed his lips together. Was it a former lover's?
If it was, how was that possible? Yami had said he'd lived underground within a tunnel system in the mountains. Was it possible that someone had stumbled across him at some point?
Maybe he had been wounded and forced to change and the other had helped him heal and some kind of epic love story had blossomed from it. He rolled his eyes at himself but he had to wonder. Was it possible that Yami had had a lover before?
Perhaps that was why he had been so aggressive after the incident in the woods with the hunter. It made sense to him. If they had been caught and killed at some point, then that would explain Yami's panic and ferocity when he had gone up against the human and his dogs. He still had no idea what he had truly done to them, however, but he had no problem assuming that he had killed them each.
There was no reason to think otherwise. Yami had come back safe and sound. How else could he have achieved such a feat if not for killing the ones that posed a threat to him? Yugi imagined Yami's self-preservation had not allowed for him to simply give them the chance to come after them both again when he was wounded and they were clearly capable of killing them. He had not assumed to know how nor did he often think about it, but he knew somehow Yami had gotten rid of them. And he was sure if something of that magnitude happened again and it was within his power, he would do it as he had before.
Maybe that was why he had saved him. Maybe he had felt regret for not being able to save the other wolf and now strove to do so with him.
He almost wanted to ask. He even thought to form the words in his lungs and shape them with his lips. But then he saw the other boy. He noticed the rise of his shoulders. He took in the way his fingers had tightened around the lapels of the jacket. He was cautious of how the collar was pressed in a smooth grip within his right palm.
Yami had noticed his staring. He would not call him out on it, but his body spoke volumes of self-consciousness. Yugi looked away again, licking his lips.
"I'm going to go get some food." He glanced at him sideways. The taller boy had bowed his head slightly, not embarrassed but seemingly somehow ashamed. "Do you want something?"
He shook his head slowly.
"Okay. When I get back, let's watch a movie, okay?"
He wasn't leaving much room for him to argue, instead getting up to wander off for the kitchen. When he returned, Yami was up and about, moving to settle at the foot of the bed to get comfortable. Yugi smiled faintly.
It was a far step from bridging the numerous issues that had sprung between them due to his prying or Yami's own reluctance, but it soothed the slightest of the ache that had formed under his skin. Yami was willing to meet him halfway for the smaller things. Maybe eventually he would try again with the larger as well.
Okay, guys, so last minute nominations for Code Name Atem? They're all in DM, remember? And all three of them have a certain role (the real Atem, masquerading as Atem, and thinking themselves to be Atem). Three names, three different roles. As for when I'll reveal who might have gotten it, I'm going to wait until the end of the story, in which case all of it is going to be figured out and revealed for you guys. It will also give me more time to simply focus on the one-shot without spoiling the plot by saying who might have guessed it.
After this point Code Name Atem becomes too big a plot point to be guessed at because the plot moves rapidly where he is concerned. And before you know it, his identity is going to be revealed. So no guesses after I post chapter twenty-four...