I know, I know, I've been gone forever. Sorry. I had a huge Christmas party to organize with 41 people (yes, 41, yes all my family). Now I'm looking for a job which is taking a lot of time. Anyways, enough excuses.
Enjoy!
Daylight is getting quite dim already. For the hundredth time, I sigh. I've been looking at the same spot on the ceiling for at least two hours now. Honestly, how was that man expecting me to sleep after all of this? Not that my mind and body don't need it. But I haven't even seen Mokuba yet. Either they're working him to the bone by making him take care of all the injured or… No. Not even Atem would lie about that. If I've learned anything about him, it's that he's the "rip out the splinter" kind of person.
But what do I really know about him? I've only caught glimpses of the man on the island. His strange apology from earlier played in my head again and again. What was the apology for? Was it sympathy for my scars and everything that went with it? It didn't feel like it. It was so intimate and personal… I certainly can't imagine him apologizing for kidnapping us. It's bigger than that. And yet what can possibly be bigger than that?
The Shayee. That's who could. But he'd shut that door in my face by putting on that mask again and refusing to answer me.
I bite the inside of my cheek as the frustration rises in me. I'm tired of this. Being plunged in absolute uncertainty all over again is unbelievably maddening. I've learned more about my people in one day than I have in twelve years only for the mystery to thicken. And the one person who can give me answers is shunning me, leaving me to wallow in the darkness of my ignorance.
Knowing full well I won't find sleep anytime soon, I straighten up. Not without flinching from the jabs of pain from my wounds, I stand and make my way out onto the quarterdeck. The Osiris is sailing away in the distance, taking away what's left of the mercenaries with it. The wreckage of the Horus and the remains of the Anubis are being taken away by the currents away from my homeland —as if the sea itself doesn't want them near the island. Is that why there's no trace left of the wreckages from twelve years ago?
It's fitting and I'm thankful for it.
I approach the bannister and lean on it to observe the movements on the Millennium. Part of the crew is lighting the lanterns hung around the main deck. They're quiet. Too quiet. They don't exchange any words or any kind of gesture. Only monotonously light up the upper decks of the ship, their exhaustion palpable. A fresh wind travels around, whistling a melancholic melody and I feel heaviness in my chest. Bringing a hand to my throat, I remember Bakura's words.
"Nine deaths…" I whisper for no one to hear.
Atem's decision to protect me has caused nine members of his crew to die. They could've gotten away if they'd just given me up. But no. I don't believe for a moment that it was for the sake of his pirate pride. A sudden anguish squeezes my insides. How will the rest of the crew feel about my presence onboard now that lives have been lost for my sake? The wind blows on my naked skin and I shiver.
Suddenly, a large cloth is placed on my shoulders and I whip around, nearly jumping out of my skin. Behind me, the giant pilot of the Millennium stands, his expression as blank as ever.
"Jack," I say, sighing. "You scared me."
He doesn't answer me and only moves to his post by the helm. The cloth on my shoulder is actually his coat —a huge piece of cloth bigger than Seto's. I could probably be wrapped four times in this. Jack waits, silently staring into the distance as if he'd never noticed my presence in the first place. I sense no hostility from the giant. But there's a twinge of sadness shining in his eyes — as if tears were preparing to be shed. But I get no resentful glare or cold shoulder. I open my mouth to ask something when another familiar gruff voice interrupts my momentum.
"Look alive, men," shouts the quartermaster, emerging from the lower decks. "Pull up the anchor and let the sails loose. We're moving at once! Make it snappy."
The men obey the command without question. I realize most of them have bandages on their bodies and a sensation of guilt shakes me. Soon, the Millennium is moving pushed by that cold and morbid wind. I'm neither glad nor disappointed to see my homeland moving away.
Then, little by little, more crew members come up to the main deck. Those who are superficially wounded help the others up and settle them on the ground, near the edges —either on stools or tilted barrels. Some are even taken up on litters. It seems the whole crew is gathering. That's when I see Mokuba appear, helping Jaden walk. My throat tightens at the state of the young sail man. His head and leg are bandaged and even his left eye had to be covered up. I quickly make my way down to help Mokuba.
"Are you two alright?" I ask, putting Jaden's second arm around my shoulders.
"Been better," replies the cripple with a joyless smile and eyes filled with exhaustion. "T'was a tough one… I be grateful if it don't happen again any time soon, ye know?"
"No one found me," assures Moki, albeit quietly.
They may not have found him, but the damage is done. I just have to look at him to see it in the shaking of his hands and the intense look in those big dark eyes of his that avoid mine. His sleeves and shirt are stained with blood I know is not his own. His body may not be scarred but I know his heart is.
I want to take him in my arms. Hold him tight and tell him all will be well. But I cannot. Nothing I say will erase the bloody spectacle he's seen from his mind. My insides twist once more with silent guilt and I send an inner plea for forgiveness. Even if the best were to happen and Seto found us, Moki will never forget what he's seen here.
Still no one speaks and we let the heavy silence of the main deck fall on us again. Mokuba and I help Jaden sit against the edge of the ship. Soon after, more of the men emerge from the lower decks, carrying more litters. My heart sinks in my chest when I see the covered up bodies of the fallen.
Six, eight…. Eleven.
Seems two more have succumbed to their wounds. They've been neatly enveloped in white sheets without a single blood stain on them. With surprising care and respect.
Others follow. Some carry lanterns. Others, bottles, kegs and baskets that they set aside. Perhaps they intend to burn the bodies? The thought alone makes me gag but I say nothing. They're not Shayee. Burning bodies is by no means an act of blasphemy for them. For me, it's the greatest sacrilege. I take a breath and shake my head, trying not to think about it. Either way, we have to get rid of the corpses before they start rotting and bring disease to the rest of the crew.
A familiar tall silhouette then enters my field of vision. Joey walks by us, carrying one end of another litter. The pinkish scars on his body already look weeks old. Carrot-top didn't lie when he said wolf men heal fast. But just like Mokuba and everyone here, I can see the scars of his soul reflected in his empty eyes.
Even Bakura —who has scrubbed off every ounce of blood out of his hair—doesn't say a word. My lack of wariness of the quartermaster surprises me. It's as if the murderous aura surrounding him has dissipated in the heavy fog of mourning engulfing the entire crew.
The wrapped up bodies are aligned at the front of the ship and the crew members who can walk gather around in a fluid motion, moving as a single entity. The smooth yet imposing movement of the crowd around the bodies sweeps even Moki and I, making us part of the wave. Everyone seems to be here now, aside from Jack at the helm and a few sail-men in the masts. My homeland is far behind now. There's not a sound to be heard aside from the agitated sea and the wailing winds.
All eyes are turned toward the dead and the heavy silence carries on. That is until the men make way for Atem. Eyebrows close together, his face is more stern than that of the rest of the crew. Perhaps he had the time to mourn on his own before everyone else? His mask is up, but his eyes betray him. They've darkened, taking the same tint as the ones of everyone else here. The captain of the Millennium stands still for a bit, observing the wrapped up bodies on the floor. Then he kneels by each one of them. For each, he unwraps the sheet to look at their pale faces and rests a hand on their head. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, as if praying.
Why do you pray? You, who steal and kill? You, who takes what you want by force? Why do you pray? How can you be kind and caring? You, who swears death oaths and give your life to vengeance? Why?
I let the questions swarm my mind, leaving them answerless. There's no point in asking. His mask doesn't fall, he doesn't waver one bit. Only that fog in his eyes says anything. Once he's "prayed" above each of the dead, he straightens back up and goes to stand on the edge of the ship with cat-like balance. All eyes finally look up at their captain, and still not a sound is made.
"Two years ago, I made you all a proposal," declares the captain, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You had lost your homes, your families, parts of your souls, to the greedy hands of the Kaibas."
The muscles in my throat tense at the mention of the name. I once more fall under the spell of my own guardedness and can't detach my eyes from him. Mokuba's hand finds mine and I squeeze it, hoping to give as much comfort as I receive.
"But," continues Atem, "you could return the pain you had endured. And you could prevent anyone else from suffering the same fate. All of you agreed to trust me and embark on this journey of righteous purge, despite knowing the dangers and the price you had to pay to achieve it. You threw away your status as upstanding citizens. You abandoned what was left of your homelands. You became pariahs."
The gradual and obvious shift of atmosphere is unmistakable. My skin crawls and I feel the urge to shrink down to the size of a mice and disappear. I dare glance at the men around us. The pits of darkness and misery that were they irises now burn brightly with silent rage and determination. Being plunged in this atmosphere makes my skin tingle as if I'm seated too close to a fire. The flames of vengeance that are devouring them.
I was wrong. Atem isn't only terrifying because of his sharpness and devilish agility with a sword. His words… they're like an incantation, breathing life into the hopeless souls of the men of the Millennium. They brew this anger and desire for blood I see in their eyes.
'They're empty shells. Vengeance is all they have left.'
It's a curse. But a curse that gives them reason to still go on after losing everything. If I hadn't caught a glimpse of that same pain in Atem's eyes earlier, I'd really think he was the devil on their shoulder, playing puppeteer to those lost souls and moving them as he pleased. But I have peeked under his mask. I know he shares their pain.
An invisible hand wraps around my heart, squeezing it until it aches. I feel the tears building up behind my eyes, as an infinite void of sadness expands in my chest. Apprehension and heartache growing within widen it. Imprisoned in this toxic atmosphere, I helplessly listen to the binding words of my captor.
"Today, eleven of us have paid the ultimate price," he says, with a softer voice. "Wilbur, Hans, Reynolds, Gareth, Kurt, Vin, the Patch, Dieter, Ledrole, Finn and Neal. Tonight, we return what they gave us with all the honors they are due. We are indebted to them. Just as those who have payed that price before, we owe it to them to finish what they've started. But tonight… we show gratitude. We put them to rest."
Atem gives an order, incoherent to my ears. A dozen of pirates move and pick up the bodies. To my surprise, they bring them to the edge of the ship— and let them fall into the sea. A spark of relief hits me, loosening just a bit of my insides.
They won't be burned.
They won't be reduced to ashes.
The sea will take them and carry their souls away to whiter shores.
Still the heaviness in my chest quickly returns. Every time they let one of the bodies go, bitterness pinches at my soul. I can feel my wounds throb painfully in harmony with my restless heart that becomes heavier at each beat. I find myself fighting my own tears. Sadness fully takes over my apprehension.
Why did they have to die so worthlessly? After losing everything, why did they have to sacrifice their lives to a something as eerie, vile and sterile as vengeance? Why did their existence have to vanish like this?
I glance around. All the men are silent and yet, on more than half of them, I discern tears leaking on their cheeks and shining in the moonlight. I bring a hand over my chest and squeeze the fabric of my dress there, scared that I might burst. Without truly knowing why, I inhale deeply and open my mouth. A melody following the measure of the wailing wind leaves it.
Who can sail without any wind?
Who can row without any oar?
And who can wish a friend farewell
Without shedding tears?
I don't know where that melody is from. Perhaps something Maria used to hum to me? The eyes around have turned to me, staring curiously. But to my surprise, a smooth, husky and penetrating voice answers my little verse.
I can sail without any wind
I can row without any oar
But I can never leave my friend
Without shedding tears
I look up and my eyes meet Atem's. The fiery irises have softened unlike anything I've seen before. The same sensation I felt when he traced the scars on me back comes over me, warming me and sending strange tingles in my fingers. I hold my breath, contemplating the mask-less face. My contemplation doesn't last long, as he turns back towards the sea and another verse leaves his mouth.
Who can see the sunrise at dusk?
Who can amble among the stars?
And who can wish a friend farewell
Without shedding tears?
This time, it is Joey that answers. Then Hunter joins him. Then Jaden and two more. Soon, the whole crew answers the song, sending their farewell to their fallen friends —as if this song is known to all of them.
I can see the sunrise at dusk
I can amble among the stars
But I can never leave my friend
Without shedding tears.
The heavy silence leaves place to a chorus of loss and sorrow. Some verses the captain sings sound familiar. Others do not. But all the crew responds to them. I hear them cry and it makes a flow of tears burst out of my eyes, tickling the part of me that knows loss.
They sing until Xao lets go of the last body and the sea swallows it. Then, the crewmen who'd brought the bottles begin passing them around until almost everyone holds one. The few seconds of distraction on my part to wipe my tears away are enough for Atem to regain his mask. Still perched on the edge of the Millennium he raises the glass bottle Bakura hands him.
"They gave up their lives to give us our tomorrow. We've mourned their loss," he states. "Now we honor them by celebrating their lives. To our brothers!"
"OHOY!" replies the entire crew in unison.
A moment later, every single man on the deck brings his drink to his lips and downs it. Even Jaden.
"What are they doing?" mutters the youngest Kaiba in my ear.
I can't answer him. The only funeral I've ever attended was Gozaburo Kaiba's. A very stern and solemn ceremony which included a mass and a small buffet at the family estate. I'm no expert on how pirate funerals are held.
The sound of breaking glass makes me jump. Bakura's bottle is in pieces at his feet —intentional, I take it. Thought the quartermaster's eyes are red, that furious look in his eyes hides the fact that he shed any tears.
"Reynolds and Finn were as daft as pigeons," he growls loudly. "Neither of them could ever shut up. Took the two of them to make a whole brain."
"Neal couldn't hold a sword for shit," then says Tristan, still wiping away one last tear. "And coming from me, that's saying something."
A few joyless chuckles travel around and slowly, the mass divides. Everyone either sits on barrels or leans against the edge and masts of the ship. They form small groups. Following the movement, Mokuba and I sit —him on a stool, I on a tilted barrel— against the edge, near Joey and Xao. One by one, the names of the dead are brought up and the chuckles and laugh intensify as the drinks flow. Until they become almost genuine and ceases to be just another way to fill silence.
"Ol' man Patch weren't much of a talker," says Jaden leaning back and looking up at the stars. "But there be that one song he always be mumblin'. Sounded like a croakin' crow, mind ye. Used to drive me bonkers! Can't believe I won't be hearin' it no more."
A short silence follows, before a thumping and rhythmic noise fills it. Quickly, the rhythm intensifies as the pirates begin stomping or clapping to the same beat. Then, just like before, they begin singing. It's a tale of a young sailor who meets death on his first journey out to sea.
Johnny boy, Johnny boy,
We're bound by stormy weather…
Johnny boy, Johnny boy,
Better wish your lads farewell
At some point, Reed begins playing the accordion and John, a sort of thin fiddle. The atmosphere slowly shifts from solemn and silent mourning to —not joyous— but lighter mood. The drinks flow and soon, there is singing, dancing and sharing of memories.
I eat the food that is passed to me in silence, not comfortable enough to partake in this odd celebration. Singing and dancing is not something I associate to funerals but I can understand the need to remember the good of a dearly departed's life. Perhaps that's why I wanted to recover my lost memories in the first place. For the good times.
I replay the few precious memories I did recall from the island. Then another twinge of guilt pinches my heart. Is it alright to mourn for others at the funeral of those men? With my amnesia, I never truly grieved for my family. A gentle nudge pulls me out of my reverie.
"How are yar injuries?" asks the ever so gentle Joey.
I can't help but glance at the scars on his naked chest and back as I turn to him. I recall him being a bloody pin cushion. For a moment, I nearly return the few bites of bean bread I've just eaten.
"I uh," I mumble trying to focus on his face. "I'm alright. I wasn't hurt that bad. Unlike you. I can't believe you're already healed."
"Perks of bein' a wolf-man," he replies, letting out an amused snort, albeit his eyes remain sad.
I see most of the men drinking, dancing and singing their lungs out, as if to evacuate every bit of sorrow of their beings. It's different from a joyful celebration but just as genuine, somehow. The rest eat and chat in small groups, exchanging stories about the fallen. Our little circle, composed of Joey, Tristan, Jaden, Xao, and of course Moki and I, is mostly quiet.
"You're not eatin' much," comments the Asian man.
"My stomach is a little twisted…" I confess reluctantly. Unwilling to discuss the puddle of mixed feelings within, I divert the conversation. "Are pirate funerals always like this?"
"Yep," confirms Joey. "Mournin' then celebratin'. T'makes sense, ya know? They wouldn't have wanted us moppin'. I was surprised when ya started singing. Where d'ya learn our song?"
Where, indeed.
"I'm not sure. I was just as surprised when you all started singing back. Where did you learn it?"
He turns his head and points in one direction with his chin. By the time I turn my head, Atem is making his way to us, a bottle in each hand. He smiles at me but it's the provocative smile of his mask. Fake, distasteful and full of deceit. He hands one bottle over to Joey before sitting between us. I scoot as far as I can on the barrel as not to touch him.
"How are you?" he asks.
Oddly innocent question for someone with a smirk like that on his face.
"Fine," I reply, putting a hand on my flank. "My wounds don't hurt too much."
"I did not mean your injuries, love," he says, before taking another sip of his bottle.
Of course he wants to stir up whatever is eating at me. True to his image as always. If I don't want him to pry too much, the only course of action is being honest.
"I… didn't really know any of them," I say. "The only ones I've ever spoken to were Hans and Neal. I'm not sure how I should feel."
"Yet you shed tears for them," he states.
The heat rises to my cheeks and I look down. The reason I wept for them is complex enough for me to have trouble understanding. I don't see how I could explain it to him. Even if I want to. I once more chastise myself for this frustrating need to trust this man.
"I'm not sure why," I respond, still refusing to look up at him. "Isn't it natural to be sad when people die?"
"I fucking hope you're bloody joking, half-pint," growls a gruff voice.
My heart skips a beat and my head shoots up to look at the quartermaster who's subtilely approached our group. Bakura makes his way towards me. I straighten up, ready to get on guard. But just as before, I don't sense any murderous aura about him —albeit his frown is as pronounced as ever. Neither Atem nor Joey moves, apparently sensing no threat. Bakura stops in front of me, and points an accusatory finger in my face.
"Everyone that died today did it to protect the crew and the ship. That includes you and the brat too. So it's not a question of how you feel or not. You owe them. Show gratitude for people who die for you here, got it?"
Again, the blatant display of care he shows towards his comrades shocks me. Most of all, he's not wrong. Their death may have prevented Moki's. The heat of my cheeks intensifies with shame. That is something I should thank them for. They didn't die just for the sake of vengeance. I almost sigh in relief.
"H-How do I do that?" I ask, feeling quite awkward asking Bakura of all people for advice.
He says nothing but brings up his second hand holding his bottle up in my face. "One sip per death. I don't give a rat's ass if you puke it back up after as long as you force it down."
I stare incredulously at the bottle. Is that it? Will that be sufficient?
"Yugi, don't!" exclaims Mokuba, standing up. "What if he poisoned it?"
In response, Bakura rolls his eyes before bringing the rum to his mouth and taking a couple of long sips before presenting it to me again.
"Satisfied, brat? Hurry up, my arm's tired."
I grab the bottle and hold my breath when the foul smell of assaults my sense of smell. Eleven sips. It'll be quick if I hold my nose, won't it? I send a thought to the dead before bringing the alcohol to my mouth under the curious gazes of the pirates. The aggressive liquid floods my mouth and I try to force down the eleven sips quickly…. only to pull away after two. Dropping the bottle, I begin coughing my lungs out as my insides catch fire and tears burst out of my eyes. My vision blurs and I quickly miss the air.
A flask is put in my hand and I grab it without a second thought. Blessed clear water descends in my throat and begins slowly washing away the inner fire. But even by the time I've emptied it, irritations still remain in my throat.
"How on earth… do you drink… that by the pint?" I say with a broken voice and my sentence punctuated with lighter coughs.
They snicker, seemingly enjoying my misery. Pirates will be pirates. Curse them. May they all swallow a thousand needles! Bakura picks up the bottle at my feet that has somehow miraculously escaped shattering on impact. A nasty grin creeps up his face, sending shivers down my spine.
"Hahaha! You did better than I expected. I thought for sure you'd puke out your guts. Not bad, toots."
He laughs his raw unbridled laughter and walks away from our group before emptying the rest of his bottle.
"'Toots', huh?" snickers Joey. "Looks like ya've earned a twinge of respect from the blood hound, Yug."
"Don't let your guard down," replies the captain, watching his quartermaster walk away. "It's only a matter of time before he needs more."
"With everything he's killed today, he'll be stable for a while," comments Tristan before letting out a sigh. "We should be good for now. As long as we don't piss him off by delaying the hunt again."
My eyes fall to Atem's bandaged hand just as it clenches. My insides shift uncomfortably. Where is Seto right now? Has he even found the wreckage of the Golden Whale? His tendency to forget food and sleep when his mind is preoccupied frightens me. If I could just tell him that we're alright… and to stay away.
"Speaking of giving others their dues," says Atem, putting down his empty bottle down, "I believe you still owe me something, love."
A tremor of alarm shoots through me and I straighten up, completely on guard this time. Was it a mistake on my part to assume he'd let me off easy for disobeying him after everything that has happened?
"I know I disobeyed your orders but considering I considerably contributed to us still being alive, can't you let it go?" I say, attempting to bargain my way out of it.
He stares incredulously before laughing. "Cutting you open was more than enough punishment for that I believe." His infamous cocky smirk stretches out across his face. "I meant what you owe me for our little duel."
"Oh."
That completely slipped my mind. And somehow it's even worse. The blood once more rushes to my face when I remember what it is I owe him.
"If I win, I'll take something from you. Something once given, can't be taken back."
"So, you've decided?" My voice shakes and I keep my face oriented towards the ground as my mind attempts to figure out what he could ask of me. "What do you want?"
"Time."
The incessant flow of obscene nightmares plaguing my mind comes to a brutal stop and is replaced by pure confusion. I look up at him to find that his smirk has turned to an almost sad smile.
"What do you mean?"
"I want some of your time. A year of your life. Just for me."
The wind whistles in my ear and plays with my hair as I stare at him, my confusion thickening by the moment. Am I daft or is his request truly this strange?"
"I-I don't understand," I let out. "What do you mean a year. A year to do what?"
"Anything. All you have to do is stay with me. Once our business is concluded, I'll have plenty of time and money to spend. So I'm asking to spend them on you."
I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Unsurprising, really. My mind is completely empty of original thought and instead repeats his words over and over again. From the corner of my eye, I see that Joey, Tristan and Xao are in deep conversation, just like Moki and Jaden. The sphere of intimacy it creates around the two of us is slightly disconcerting.
He leans closer, his lips thinning with seriousness. I can smell the soft odor of sea salt and dried fruits tickling my nose.
"You can't deny that being at sea suits you far more than being some rich brat's bird in a cage." He says that with an air of irritation about him. "Needless to say, you won't have to worry about food or shelter. I've no intention of settling on land once all of this is over. What do you say?"
My heart throbs in my chest painfully. I thought this was supposed to be his reward for winning the duel. Why does it sound like an offer —not to say a proposal? The answer is obvious. He's my enemy. The enemy of my family, an adamant danger to Seto and Mokuba. I shouldn't be hesitating. And yet…
A whole year at sea, spending hours a day swimming, exploring the world of my people, having the ocean wind in my face… Never have I received such a tempting offer. I know that if we do manage to return to Seto, he'll probably never let me out of his sight again, much less get on a ship. I'd be back in my golden cage.
Guilt rises again in me and I mentally slap myself. What am I doing, considering my captor's offer? I bite my lip, hoping the pain will help sink in my resolve. The most important is making sure my family is safe and reunited. To hell with my selfish desires. Besides, who in their right mind would agree to that?
"No." Though I manage to look him in the eye, my voice still comes out as a near whisper. "I can't. I have to go back."
"To your new home?" he snorts, knowing full well my one true home will always be my island.
"To my family," I retort, throwing him the most serious look I have.
We stare once again, openly defying each other. I'm determined to hold my stare all night if I must to make him understand that I won't back away. He's so close now, I can almost feel his breath on my face. I have to fight to focus on his burning eyes rather than inspect his perfectly sculpted face. Rather than his face, the strange force that makes me react to each of his movements is what truly teases my curiosity.
'Focus Yugi. Now is not the time to study the Atem mystery.'
Finally, his smile returns and he sighs before straightening up. "I expected as much."
"Then why did you ask?"
He sneers. "Did you want me to force it on you? I still can."
"No thank you!" I shoot down immediately.
He chuckles and stands up to stretch. He's always felt tall to me but the gesture plus my sitting down makes him seem like a giant touching the stars. He must be as exhausted as I am if not more. But just as I think he's about to walk away, the pirate puts his hands on his hips and looks up at the sky.
"I suppose we will have to find an alternative then," he lets out.
"What?" I say recognizing this amused tone that usually means nothing good is about to happen.
He sits back down, reaching for the edge of the ship behind me and like a soft wave on a shore, then swiftly leans in. A bandaged hand slips under my chin, keeping my head up.
I blink.
Time slows, eternity sets in.
First, the subtle smells of sea wind and dried fruit fill my nose and then the rest of me, all the way down to my insides, slowly untwisting them. Then a wave of heat rises from there, swarming me up as would a lukewarm, gentler version of the Stream. Finally, something warm presses against my lips.
I open my eyes finding no space between me and the captain of the Millennium. All of me tenses up to the point of complete paralysis as my mind attempts to find an explanation for what is happening to me.
Before any spec of sense can form within my head, Atem pulls away, taking with him the warmth and the smell of the sea. I nearly follow after to retrieve them but the paralysis has yet to release me.
"I'll make do with this," he states, taking his hand back.
His words shatter the spell and as if only realizing what has just transpired, I feel every part of me heating up at unhealthy speed. While shame cooks me up from the inside, anger takes control of my arm, clenching my hand into a fist and sending it towards Atem's face.
Of course, quick as he is, he catches my wrist before it can even make contact with him. My pathetic attempt at getting even foiled, I stare daggers at him hoping to wipe that smug smile off his face with the sole power of my will.
"Why are you so upset?" he says with a quiet and far too amused tone. "I only took what I said I would."
"Lecherous creep…" I meant to snap but my insult came out as a furious growl-like whisper.
"I can't give it back but I'll give one in exchange if that's what you wish," he taunts.
I can feel my face putting cherries to shame. Embarrassed beyond redemption and defeated, I rip my arm from his grip and open my mouth to give this pervert a piece of my mind. But before I can say anything, he stands again.
"My offer still stands, love. Come find me if you ever change your mind. Sleep well."
With that, he picks up his empty bottle and walks away towards other groups. Mokuba, Joey and the others around —whom I have no idea have seen the whole display or not— look up and watch him go.
I turn towards the edge and look down to hide my face and bring a hand to my chest, cursing him as I feel the void within extend furiously. Of course he had to toy with me like that. That's what I'm here for after all. Why did I forget this?
I don't know if the ache is to blame, but I find myself fighting a sudden need to cry.
Oh dear! What would Seto think? I had so much time delaying that. And surprises aren't over yet!
PLEASE REVIEW