'How old are you?'

Yami dragged the red dry erase marker down the cheek of his shadow face. He'd never had Yugi's nervous habit of chewing on pens; but if this form had a mouth he was ninety-nine percent sure he would have bitten the marker until it splintered between his teeth.

This was like playing a game with his light, and currently his light was winning.

'I am 3,000.'

Give or take a century or two, Yami thought to himself. No, I'm supposed to be an apartment ghost... he scrubbed his arm over the board liked he'd seen Yugi do, but his shadow sleeve didn't brush away the ink. Golden eyes narrowed.

He cast about for something more tangible than himself. His hand fell on one of the decorative couch pillows. The pillow might work... last time he'd erased the board Yami had wiped the whole thing across the living room carpet. But that would erase all the ink.

He used the corner of the pillow to scrub his answer from the board.

'I am 200.'

Two hundred wasn't too old, right? There were plenty of buildings that old. He'd seen them in documentaries. But that didn't sound right either. He wasn't sure how old this apartment was, but Yugi had computers and google. This was a very difficult lie to upkeep.

Seeing the fake number also made a sickness churn in his gut like so many worms.

No.

He swiped the pillow over the answer again.

'I cannot remember.'

His insides still churned with guilt, but less so. This felt like a cop-out, but it was kinda true. Yami only knew a very rough approximate of his actual age, and he couldn't remember how old he'd been when he died and his soul had become trapped in the puzzle. There was enough truth in the answer that it wasn't exactly a lie.

And for reasons he could not explain to himself he really didn't want to lie to Yugi.

'Can I see you?'

The tip of the pen dragged in circles over his knee. If he had been corporeal the ink would have been leaving marks all over his skin and clothes.

Yami thought back to Yugi's horrified expression the last time he'd seen the shadow. The temptation to write a very firm "no," made his writing hand twitch.

But Yugi was asking to see him this time. He made another circle with the marker. Should he oblige his host?

But why?

He must have written twelve different answers, and erased all of them.

In the end Yami set the dry erase board aside and drifted into the kitchen to sweep the floor. He jammed the broom bristles against the linoleum aggressively, the task taking three times as long as it should have because he kept sending the dirt flying across the room. When he finally managed to finish that task he washed some dishes, nearly dropping a mug in the process, and having to manifest a third hand to catch it. Once cleaned, he stacked all the dishes in a precarious tower like some deranged poltergeist. Petty, perhaps. But maybe it would startle Yugi enough that he wouldn't want to see him.

It took all his willpower not to unstack the dishes and place them in the strainer like a civilized being. He briefly considered if stacking the kitchen chairs like the ghosts in the movies would be pushing it too far. He decided, yes, and left them be.

Already in a huff, Yami wandered out of the kitchen to fidget with the shelves. He alphabetized the movies and video games, continuing to pointedly ignore the white board on the coffee table. There was always something that needed dusted, and he vigorously ran a cloth over every surface in the room as if the action might wipe his mind clean of turmoil as well. But despite his best efforts, his thoughts agonized over Yugi's questions.

And he felt no closer to an answer.

Pain. Then floor.

Yugi forced his crusted eyes open registering he'd fallen out of bed. The blankets were tangled in his legs and twisted around his body like he was some piss-ass aerial silks dancer.

"Ugh." He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to recall what he'd been dreaming about before becoming intimate with the ground.

He vaguely recalled his grandpa's game shop, the familiar surrounding made fuzzy by the film of dreams. He remembered stepping outside where he floated up into the night. Surrounded by stars, and floating in a sea of night, until something black curled around him shutting out the lights. It was almost like it held the sides of his face, leaning close to whisper wordless exasperation to him before all of it whooshed into his chest, followed by an intense warmth in his heart... and then he fell... and then the floor.

To add insult to injury, his morning alarm began blaring. A pulsing, angry noise making his head pound and he struggled to free himself from the blanket restraints.

Yugi smacked the alarm, a haphazard gesture that caused it to bounce off the side table, and come down on his skull.

"Ouch!"

The alarm continued to blare, and he yanked it from the wall to silence it.

"This morning sucks."

It took longer than he wanted to disentangle himself from the sheets. The floor was cold when he stumbled into the bathroom, and he was more than a little disappointed that he hadn't suffered a memory lapse and his sub-conscious hadn't gotten him ready for work. That sometimes happened.

He didn't like to admit that he loved when that happened. It felt like he got to sleep in. Once upon a time it used to scare him, but he'd come to terms with the lapses over the years.

Purple eyes blinked groggily at him from the mirror. His multi-colored hair was mussed from sleep, a frizzy mess that stuck out in odd angles. And not the perfectly coiffed angles he normally spiked it in. This was more like if he stuffed his head in a dryer, and let it tumble, then let a cow lick half of it.

Yugi dragged a brush through his hair, wincing when it caught a tangle or knot, and resigned himself to his morning beauty ritual.

A hour and a half later, he wandered into the living room and collapsed on the couch. His hair was tamed, styled and spiked. His blonde bangs framed the sides of his face, the subtle hot-hair smell from using the curling iron on them tickling his nose. His make-up was on point. The usual eyeliner framing his eyes, but today he'd applied a bit of eyeshadow, some grey on his eyelids, and a bit of silver beneath his eyes. He even applied some dark grey lipstick.

Normally he wouldn't go into work looking so aggressively goth, but Yugi didn't think Seto would complain at him, and he wanted to hide the bags under his eyes from the terrible night of sleep.

Today he was dressed in a silver vest over a black-long sleeved button down. And that was tucked into a pair of black slacks. Rather than wear a tie, he wore his usual leather choker, with matching bracers on his wrists. The Millenium puzzle hung from a black cord, a comforting weight settled over his heart, right where it belonged. It was always a part of his wardrobe no matter what he wore. He very rarely ever removed it.

Yugi spared a tired look at the Tic Tac Toe game and was elated to see the ghost had made a move. He responded in kind, scribbling down another X. Then he checked the white board and his heart jumped into his chest to see that there was familiar red scrawl beneath all his purple questions.

He scooped the board up and settled into the cushions to read the answers.

'How old are you?'

'I cannot remember.'

That made him feel sorry for Yami. Had it been here so long? Had it come from someplace else and gotten stuck here? Did becoming a ghost mean your memories faded away? Did time lose all it's meaning? Yugi didn't really want to ask these sorts of things over a white board. At least not this early in their conversational relationship. These sorts of things seemed too dark.

'Can I see you?'

'I will scare you.'

He frowned. That wasn't really a confirmation one way or the other. And it was rather presumptuous.

"I won't be scared if I'm expecting you," Yugi called out to his apartment. "If you're referring to the time in my games closet, I wasn't expecting to see you, I was half-asleep and it did scare me. But I don't think you'll scare me now. Just so long as you don't jump out and try to," he added with a nervous laugh. Inviting a ghost to reveal itself didn't usually end well in horror movies.

He half expected the specter to rush at him from one of the corners of his room. His eyes darted around nervously searching the shadows. But nothing dark or spooky revealed itself.

"Try it sometime. I'd love to meet you, face to face."

Invitation sent. Portal to hell opened. Yugi knew he was going to be jumping at shadows for the next week. Whether or not Yami actually took him up on the invitation, he was going to be scrutinizing and double checking every shadow, especially his own. He really hoped Yami didn't take that the wrong way.

'Are you the one eating the food in my fridge?'

'No.'

So, where's it all going then? Yugi gnawed on the end of his purple marker. It was entirely possible he ate it during one of those memory lapses. Or maybe he'd tossed it out. Also possible. He spared a moment to lament all the wasted food that could have gotten thrown out during his mental lapses.

'Do you have any questions for me?'

'How long have you been alive?'

Yugi debated answering the question out loud. But decided he should write his answer on the board. He would answer Yami's questions equally.

He erased his own questions, and wrote out three more. Then wrote his answer below Yami's question.

'I'm twenty-five years.'

Excitement coiled in his stomach as he got up and made his way into the kitchen to fix breakfast. He found himself brimming with anticipation to come home from work that night.

Upon entering the kitchen Yugi yelped in fright, stumbled, stubbed his toe on a chair, and screamed.

He felt embarrassed about the outburst. But his dishes were stacked weird as shit. And fuck, his toe hurt.

Yugi sat in his office at work. He was sipping coffee and approving a report. He was also trying to find out where a sizable portion of their budget had disappeared to this week. And he had an inkling suspicion that whoever was responsible had a name that started with S and rhymed with... shmeto.

"Yugi!"

Speak of the devil...

Yugi lifted his eyes to watch Seto Kaiba stalk into his office. What was it going to be this time? Another theme park? A second space station? The elevator again? Did Seto really buy out Amazon like he'd jokingly suggested? Yugi wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if he did. It would be just like Seto to do that. There was nothing he loved more than money and spite.

"I fired my..." Seto trailed off as his gaze fixed on Yugi. Steel blue eyes bore into the little expense manager with an intensity so acute Yugi thought a blood vessel might rupture in Seto's eye.

"You fired your...?" Yugi prompted, waving his hand in a gesture for his boss to continue.

"Why are you all dressed up?" Seto almost sounded irritated.

Yugi shrugged. "I wanted to look good today? I had a bad night, and I wanted to feel nice. It's called self care." He self consciously touched some of his hair spikes, as if to reassure they were still all in place. He had driven to work that morning, something he normally didn't do because traffic at the heart of the city was unbearable. But he'd wanted to keep his appearance clean, and didn't want to fend of any attention it might have drawn to him on the metro.

"Hmm." Whatever hackles Yugi's appearance had ruffled seemed to relax. Seto leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. "I fired my PR manager."

"That's not surprising." Yugi turned his attention back to the report. "You've been grumbling about his work for awhile now. You're gonna need a new one real soon though. The company has a Duel Monsters tournament coming up, and both of us are competing."

"I could make you my new PR guy."

If Yugi had been drinking his coffee he would have done a spit take. He jerked his head up to scowl at Seto. "Heck no."

"Why not?" Seto waved his hand at Yugi's office, "You hate this job. I never take you seriously, and we both know you are just here so I can undermine all your hard work." The grin he wore while admitting this was near predatory.

"Never thought you'd actually admit that. But I get paid really well to be the guy you dick over every week." The smile Yugi returned was beaming.

Seto made a choking sound. "Don't say it like that."

"Like what?"

"You make it sound like you're my high class whore."

Yugi laughed and signed one of the reports before setting it aside. "I couldn't possibly be one of your whores, I'm not dressed like a Blue Eyes White Dragon."

A sharp inhale. The look Seto gave him was unreadable, but intense.

He decided it would be best to ease off the teasing. Well, that teasing.

"Don't worry Mr. Kaiba, I know you actually appreciate all my hard work. You're too tsundere to admit it, but your underlings would be lost without me. And Mokuba tells me all the time how helpful I am."

"Of course he would."

Mokuba was Seto Kaiba's younger brother and right hand man. Mokuba oversaw the company when Seto was absent, and took care of the more tedious work that Seto deemed beneath him.

Years ago Mokuba had been a nasty little shit, having tried to poison Yugi, and even taken part in Seto's Death T event. But Mokuba had been the first Kaiba brother to come around and extend the olive branch to Yugi. Over the years they became good friends, and now they were thick as thieves in Kaiba Corp. Much to Seto's chagrin.

"I don't want to be your new PR guy," Yugi said firmly. "I don't love this job, but I know I'd hate being PR Manager even more. You're insufferable as it is, and I know you are hell on your Public Relations department." When he said this he made sure to hold Seto's stare so that the CEO would know he was serious.

Seto released a sigh. An amused smirk pulled at his mouth. "I should fire you for talking to me like this."

Yugi gave his own huff of amusement. "But you won't."

On his way to the break room that day, two hours before he could go home, Yugi encountered the former PR manager. Mr. Mashima was carrying a box of personal affects towards the elevator, wearing an expression that would strangle kittens. If those kittens happened to be named Seto Kaiba.

The man turned that glare on Yugi, curling his lip in unconcealed malice.

"You taking my job?"

"What? No. Nooo." Yugi waved his hands before him as if to expel the misunderstanding.

"Yeah, sure," Mr. Mashima scoffed. "Kaiba said he's promoting you to the position as soon as I'm out the door."

"Well he certainly tried," Yugi admitted. "But I don't want your job." He tried hedging around the former PR manager, trying to skirt the aura of contempt that rolled off the man like a thick black miasma.

Mr. Mashima only fixed him with an even darker look. "You're Seto Kaiba's little pet. His play thing. God forbid you ever have to work a real job in this company. He'll just hand you anything on a silver platter because you're his prized, 'King of Games.'"

Yugi wanted to respond. He wanted to snarl at the man for saying such rude and disrespectful things. But the man had just gotten fired, and this anger was misplaced. Also, Yugi wasn't sure how much of those accusations he could deny, and it smarted something fierce. Like a slap to his face.

It was just like Seto to do something like that. To keep Yugi around not because he needed Yugi, but because he valued Yugi's influence and title. They were gaming rivals, and Seto was adhering to that old adage to keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. These days they were both. They were "frenemies." Also they'd just been joking about how useless Yugi was earlier that day. Even if it had been a joke, and he knew it probably wasn't true, he couldn't seem to muster the words to deny it now.

Mr. Mashima scoffed again, shaking his head, "Little parasite." He muttered other nasty things under his breath as he stalked off towards the elevator with the last of his dignity.

Pained amethyst eyes watched him go. Moisture caught in the corners, stinging as Yugi forced himself not to cry. He hated that he cried so easily. Was he happy? Tears. Was he mad? Tears. Was he sad? Fucking sobbing all the way.

He kicked the dark blue carpet and winced because it was the foot with the toe he stubbed this morning.

However, it gave him the perfect excuse for the tears when entered the break room to fix himself a snack. Nobody batted an eye at his explanation.

Mokuba Kaiba enter the breakroom while Yugi picked at a Cup-of-Noodles he'd gotten from the company vending machine. He spared a nod to the younger Kaiba brother, who returned the gesture with a smile before his face suddenly fell.

"Are you ok, Yugi?" Mokuba weaved between the tables to stop on the other side of Yugi's. His dark eyes were searching, full of concern.

"I'm fine," Yugi assured, trying to smile, but probably failing miserably. It felt super fake. "Why do you ask?"

"Your eyeliner is running."

Yugi's hand shot up to his cheeks, and sure enough when he withdrew his fingers they were tinged with black.

"Crap." That's what he got for crying. And for not wearing his waterproof cosmetics.

A monogrammed handkerchief appeared before his nose, and Yugi looked up to find Mokuba had withdrawn it from his suit pocket and was holding it out to him. He gave a tentative but greatful smile and accepted the handkerchief. Mokuba returned the smile with his own, one that was sweet and boyish and happy to help.

Yugi couldn't deny that the younger Kaiba brother had certainly changed over the years. No longer the spiteful and nasty brat who sought vengence for his older Brother's pride, now Mokuba was a thoughtful and kind twenty year old. He'd come into his own personality rather than trying so hard to be a shadow of Seto. Yugi would even say he'd come a lot farther than his older brother. Seto may have been nicer these days, but in a lot of ways he was still very much the same old Seto Kaiba.

Mokuba had done some growing too. Growth spurts had been kind to him and he was now taller than Yugi. Much to Yugi's annoyance. It seemed everyone grew up to be taller than him. Mokuba had a build you'd describe as lanky and spry. He kept his hair shorter and styled a little nicer these days and his facial features were also sharper. Despite all the changes though, he still had the same mischievous eyes and boyish smile. Yugi wondered if he would ever grow out of that.

He finished mopping up the messed up eyeliner, giving Mokuba an apologetic look for the black stains on his handkerchief.

"You can keep it. Seto orders those by the buttload. I have an entire dresser draw full of them."

That was enough to make Yugi chuckle. And some of the bitterness finally eased away from him.

"Thank you."

"Of course," Mokuba assured. "This place makes me cry sometimes too."

He couldn't express how much he appreciated the out. That simple sentence letting him know that no explanation was required. Sometimes, Mokuba just got him.

"Want to see my new capsule monsters?" Without asking for permission, Mokuba took the seat opposite of Yugi and began rummaging in his suit pockets.

"You bring them to work?"

The impish grin Mokuba sported was all the answer he needed. Two handfuls of capsule mons were dumped onto the table before them. All of them level 3, 4, or 5.

"I have enough for us both to play if you want?"

Honestly, he didn't even have to ask.

By the time he got out of work, Yugi was over his painful encounter. The hurt and anger from before had simmered away and were replaced by feelings of excitement and anticipation.

There was a ghost at home. One that liked games, and wanted to be friends. They were playing Tic Tac Toe, and if he was lucky Yami had answered his new questions while he was out.

It was safe to say that Yami had become the highlight of his days. Mornings and afternoons, he was couldn't wait to interact more with the spirit. And maybe, just maybe, this was the day Yami would reveal himself so Yugi could see him properly.

The prospect was both thrilling and chilling.

He was humming the Pokémon theme to himself when he approached his car. It was a little electric city car, nothing exciting or fancy. The kind Yugi could fit into comfortably, but that Seto would have to be yoga master to fold into. Jonouchi and Honda often complained about the car too. Of all his friends, only Anzu and Ryou seemed to appreciate his car.

The keys jingled as he extracted them from his pocket. He clicked the unlock button as he approached the rear of the car. The garage was a little emptier than usual, because Yugi had stayed an hour later than most of the other employees.

This meant he wouldn't have to fight that pesky traffic to exit the parking garage, but it also meant that the darkened interior was kinda vacant and spooky. The shadows were thick where the security lights didn't reach and the station where the guard was, was one floor down.

Yugi tried to imagine golden eyes peering at him from the darkness. The way they glowed in his memory. Perhaps they would greet him when he came home.

He wasn't expecting bright white eyes to pierce the darkness. Their light washed over him, they pinned him in place like an animal caught on a dark road.

A motor roared, the keen of tires screaming against pavement as someone floored their gas pedal.

His heart clenched in pure terror. Breath caught in his throat.

Those white lights, like the eyes of a demon surged from the corner of the garage straight for him.

He didn't even have time to move.