Fawnshipping (Pegasus J. Crawford/Insector Haga)

. . .

He was a year shy of technically being allowed in here, but as long as he didn't actually order any alcohol, no one paid him any attention. He kind wished that he couldstart drinking without getting himself kicked out, because moping in a bar without anything to drown it in was even more depressing than getting drunk, but at least he could get completely ignored in this dim booth in the corner.

Haga used to hate being ignored—he was one of the most well-known duelists in the country, after all. He demandedattention.

That was before he washed out of Duelist Kingdom in his first duel of the tournament and lost the respect of basically the entire world—before all his other fuck ups resulted in him more often than not getting things thrown at him when he was in public.

"Fucking pieces of shit," he muttered, face pressed into the table and wishing he could melt into it. "Didn't need anyone anyway. They can all fuck off."

He almost didn't hear the other figure sliding into the booth across from him until he heard a soft cough. Immediately, his head shot up.

"Who the fuck—"

He didn't quite recognize the man; it was probably because his hoodie was pulled so that it hid most of his eyes, and one of his eyes was covered in a sort of patch anyway, like he was some wannabe pirate. He smiled, almost hesitantly.

"I didn't think I'd find you here, of all places," he said. "It took me some time to track you down, you know...places like this really aren't the safest spaces to be moping on your own."

"Who asked you?" Haga spat. "Go the fuck away."

The man shook his head briefly.

"I can't just leave you like this...especially since I mostly blame myself for this turn of events in your life."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

The man hesitated, lips pressing together as his one, semi-visible eye glanced over Haga. He seemed vaguely...surprised at Haga's response? Why?

Then the man shook his head. He dug inside his sweater for a moment and Haga tensed—what was he pulling out?

But he only removed what appeared to be a...a Duel Monsters card?

"Thanks, but I'd rather not see that game again in my life," he said, rolling his eyes.

The man shook his head, smiling almost a little sadly.

"Are you really sure?" he said. "You had such a big smile on your face in your first tournament, you know..."

He put the card on the table and slid it across the wood towards Haga. Haga didn't get a chance to look at the art before the man stood, casting another sad smile at Haga.

"I always loved the way everyone smiled when they first started playing," he said. "There was a magic there...I feel terribly guilty for being the reason for taking that magic away from you."

He nodded at the card, and as he moved, a strand of hair escaped his hood...a hank of...silver hair...?

Haga's eyes widened and he started to stand up, a name on his lips. But the man only smiled, nodded, and turned away, before Haga could do more than put his hands on the table to lift himself to his feet.

He stared at the man's back until he was gone, feeling a slight, strange tremble running through him. Had...had that actually happened? No. No, it couldn't have. Haga was losing it. Pegasus J. Crawford himself wouldn't have sought him out, not a washed up former Japanese champion with no fans and no future.

But then Haga's eyes fell back to the table and he saw it—the card that he had left behind.

He lifted it up, staring at it.

It was...was this a variant art of Basic Insect? He had never seen one like this. It was a much prettier design than he remembered, and it was holographic.

For just the barest second, he felt like he was a child again, opening up his first pack of cards and seeing Basic Insect poke out over the top of the foil.

Haga swallowed thickly.

He tucked card away in his pocket, got up from the booth, and went back out into the daylight.

. . .

A/N: Haga is getting harder and harder to write, am I done with this project yet? :'D Next is Fateshipping (Yami no Yugi x Raphael).