Ashes doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh!

Part II, Chapter Eleven

It struck him later that Mokuba had told him, flat out, that Kaiba could never conquer him. Jounouchi mulled over it, turned it over in his mind like a curious trinket. When he thought back on his time with Kaiba, it always left him with a complete sense of being beaten; he'd never taken the time to consider exactly how much of that feeling was due to things Kaiba did. His biggest frustration at the time was that he'd wake up in the morning, naked and hung-over, and realize that he wasn't a worthy adversary, hardly worth Kaiba's attention.

There was nothing quite as exhilarating as when they were both at their best; Battle City had been the best reminder of that Jounouchi had. He'd lost to Kaiba, but he'd given it every ounce of spirit he had. After that, he couldn't say that he'd given Kaiba 100 -- by the time he started his relationship with Kaiba, he hadn't been giving anything 100.

Thinking about it made his fingers itch for a deck, and he'd hesitantly gotten his own out. It was something he'd avoided doing for a long time, since he'd starting drinking so long ago. He didn't want to get back to it without his old spirit, and eventually he'd come to realize that maybe someday he'd get close, but he could never be sixteen again.

Still, he looked at the deck, surveyed the cards; some were worn from constant use -- his Red-Eyes looked like it'd been abused by a six-year-old -- and others were practically mint. He'd never face Kaiba with this deck again. They'd never spar with dragons and traps, or hurl cheesy insults over chain effects. But he wanted to face him. Wanted Kaiba to say something.

He wanted to level the playing field, balance all debts.

It took fifteen minutes to get to Kaiba's hotel, another ten to remember the room number. (He was pretty sure that going to the front counter and saying, "I'm looking for Kaiba Seto," was going to get him kicked out or arrested.) Eventually he made it to room 617 -- and hesitated. He almost knocked but lost his nerve, storming back down the hall.

"No," he said. Leaving it unspoken would do nothing; even flipping through his old deck hadn't soothed the itching in his fingertips. He had to do this. He couldn't forget the things Mokuba had told him.

He stomped back, trying to imagine Kaiba behind the door, mocking him for being a wimp -- and Jounouchi didn't just knock, he hit the door like it owed him money. When it opened he blurted, "I hate you!"

Smirking, Kaiba replied smoothly, "I haven't forgotten. Is that all you needed?"

"I... no." Shifty awkwardly, it suddenly seemed silly; Kaiba didn't look at all bothered, and he'd had years to know about all that Jounouchi just learned. He attempted to gather his thoughts as quickly as possible, eager to sound dominating, to look stronger than he imagined he was in Kaiba's memory.

He wasn't a blithering alcoholic anymore. He was better than that, and he wanted Kaiba to know it. "I admired you, in some sick way," he stated, unsure exactly where he was going. With that, the dam broke, and every fleeting thing he'd told himself he was glad for never admitting to Kaiba, came out. "You were my age and you were loaded. You were confident, and I hated it. Then we got stuck in that fucking virtual world, and I wanted to laugh because you were getting beat by a kid. I mean, hell, even I know how to beat up a kid."

Kaiba frowned and opened his mouth, but Jounouchi held a hand up, making a noise to shut him up. He was on a roll.

"And then there was all that stuff about your dad, and how you overcame it all. It didn't seem like this big deal at the time, just another sob story, but when we were older I realized it was just another thing I hated you for, because you had topped your demon, and succeeded where I failed. You were my ideal rival because you were so much more successful than I was, and if I could beat you, then I could beat anything."

And that was it. Jounouchi was so completely out of anything to say that his mind went completely blank. Luckily, Kaiba stepped up to the plate.

"You really haven't gotten any brighter, have you? At least now the whole floor knows that you realize who your betters are. If you're going to keep talking, I suggest doing it in private." Embarrassed and once again scrambling for his thoughts on why he'd shown up, Jounouchi took the invitation and went inside. Once the door was closed, Kaiba added, "I've got to admit, you're pretty good at reading too deeply into something without looking beneath the surface. What are you doing here, Jounouchi?"

"It's..." He didn't want to say they were unfinished. He refused to admit he'd let Kaiba cross his mind in more than passing. "You owe me, Kaiba. I know that's gotta drive you crazy. You hate debt."

Kaiba frowned, glaring at Jounouchi; he clenched his fists, his knuckles white. "And? Do you want reparations? I believe you were adequately paid for your troubles. Is that all you came here to say?"

"I don't know what I came here to say!" Jounouchi snapped, looking around the doorway. It was too small, and he felt trapped. "But you're here, I'm here, and it seems like someone ought to say something."

Kaiba fell silent and left the doorway without instructing Jounouchi -- leaving him to his own devices. After a few moments he followed Kaiba to a sitting area by the window; Kaiba was lounging in an armchair, lighting up. On the coffee table in front of him sat the cigarette pack; he watched Kaiba toss the lighter onto the table, skittering across the wood. "Have a seat," Kaiba invited, motioning to the chair adjacent to his own. Jounouchi nodded, grabbing the cigarettes as he sat down and following suit; smoking he could cope with. They were just two guys, conversing over a good smoke.

"Congratulations," Kaiba said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "You beat me. What -- "

"I didn't beat you," Jounouchi interrupted. "I was a pawn at best; I didn't know the half of it. I don't like this idea that you owe me."

It almost seemed like Kaiba was going to laugh. "You would have loved it when we were seventeen."

"Well, we're not seventeen anymore."

Silence passed; it seemed necessary to fill it, but luckily Kaiba did so before Jounouchi had to come up with something. "So you started smoking to replace the drinking?"

"Life isn't complete without a little substance abuse," Jounouchi added, in hope of a joke. Neither laughed, but he didn't mind; it wasn't that funny anyway. "And the headaches?"

"Went away when Seiji died," Kaiba said; surprisingly, he didn't smirk like Jounouchi would have expected. "Heart attack. Hated you right until he died, you know; thought it was a stain on the company."

Of course; Jounouchi hadn't forgotten the way Seiji glared at him. All he could follow with was, "When my dad died, I wondered what he thought of me. We were buddies for a while, because once I realize we'd get along if I traveled the road to hell with him, I hopped right on. I mean... Well, it doesn't matter now."

"You ever hear from your mom?"

"No."

"I did." His gaze didn't waver, not even when Jounouchi's jaw dropped, and his fingers dug into my jeans. His mother hadn't even tried to visit him… "Shortly after you left."

"Yeah?" Jounouchi asked, swallowing as he waited for Kaiba to continue.

"Yeah; she wanted to talk. Well, more precisely, she wanted information, and didn't leave until I answered her. You're definitely her son, Jounouchi; she stood on my doorstep for half an hour after my butler told her to leave, refusing to budge until I came down to talk to her. So I did. She wanted to know how you had been, what you were doing with your life."

Jounouchi's mouth went dry. He could only imagine the things Kaiba could have told her. It would figure -- the one person who had accused him of being just like his father, even when he was just a kid, went to the only person in the world who knew she had been right. "What… What did you say?"

He shrugged. "I told her you were doing fine, and that you had a job out of the city you were pursuing." He cracked his knuckles into fists and sighed, turning his attention to the wall. Jounouchi blinked, waiting for more, but there was nothing else.

"That's it?"

He nodded. "That's it. She left, and I never had to hear from her again. I'm guessing you haven't either."

Dumbly, Jounouchi shook his head. "I…" He didn't want to say thank you, but… He did. He wanted to thank Kaiba for that one lie. Above all, it stunned him; the woman who hadn't wanted him had been the one to accept the image of him presented in the media without question -- to worry about him. "Thanks," he muttered, taking a drag off his cigarette and looking at the ceiling. "I appreciate you lying."

"For all I knew it was the truth. According to you, I was a prison." Kaiba laughed, exhaling smoke -- Jounouchi watched, rapt and worried. He'd never seen Kaiba look quite so old. "It was quite a month -- no one ever tried to drown me before."

Of all the things Jounouchi tried to bury, that was the biggest. That night had been the closest to loving Kaiba he'd ever come, and he'd been foolish enough to say it. Such embarrassments were better left unremembered. Kaiba exhaled smoke, his eyes closed. Jounouchi licked his lips, telling himself he was only leaning closer in curiosity -- and Kaiba delivered, talking after another drag.

"You were never an adversary, Jounouchi, not even when you ran around Domino proclaiming we were enemies -- beating you would have been like beating a child, especially after..." Kaiba sounded almost amused, making a noise somewhere between a laugh and a chuckle. "It was a pleasure watching you best yourself, though -- I knew from the beginning that you were better than the shell you'd become."

It was a compliment, and not even a veiled one. Jounouchi didn't know how to take that; he couldn't even go with his old standby of taking it as badly as possible. He didn't have it in him. Leaning a little closer, he waited for his strength to come back. Any minute he was going to call Kaiba a bastard, let him know exactly what a dick he was -- just like old times.

Just like back then -- when Jounouchi had done just this, interested and irritated and oh-so-lost whenever he kissed Kaiba.

Kaiba didn't pull away when their lips met, but calling him a participant would have been pushing it; Kaiba remained in stasis and Jounouchi didn't push further. They must have looked like children, their lips pressed together awkwardly as they both wondered just what the hell to do next. Jounouchi didn't know if he wanted to stay or run like hell.

Sinking back into his chair was the easiest. Kaiba laughed again, smashing the end of his cigarette into the ashtray on the coffee table. "You were right to leave -- smart enough to realize that there's no room for love between us."

The words caught in Jounouchi's throat; he hated the way Kaiba said love, like it was as simple as living happily ever after. Of all people, Kaiba should have known better. "It isn't like that."

"How is it, then?" Once again Jounouchi was left silent. That was the impasse, the one thing he couldn't own up to. The feeling he couldn't describe. Luckily Kaiba filled the empty space with another question: "Do you remember that one time at the bar?"

"Which time?" Jounouchi asked ruefully.

"You screamed at me in front of the whole place, 'You're fucked up, and you fuck me up with you.' Not a month later you tried to drown me, telling me it was like love. It wasn't until later I wished I'd said, 'And you think I'm the fucked up one.'"

Jounouchi looked away, eyes fixed steadily on the dusty-beige carpet. "I had bigger demons then. You were just the easiest to blame." He stood to leave. It had been a mistake -- of course it had been a mistake. Everything about Kaiba was a mistake. He should have never come to visit, said his piece. He shouldn't have kissed him.

Kaiba pulled him back with a word: "Idiot." Old anger flared in Jounouchi's belly -- it was as welcome as it was infuriating. There he was, trying to set things right -- mistake or not, he was still trying! "You were always an idiot."

It was just like Kaiba to have no respect for what he was doing. "When I said you were like drowning, I meant it. A guy would have to be dying to resort to the likes of you."

"Likewise."

Jounouchi launched the first punch; connecting with the side of Kaiba's face was like hugging an old friend. It was the shame that getting kneed in a stomach wasn't as nostalgically pleasing.

And even though Jounouchi knew it was a mistake, somewhere between Kaiba tripping back over the coffee table and the curtains getting ripped down in the scuffle, they'd found themselves in bed.

-end

notes
I apologize for the complete lag in updating with this chapter; school is murdering me very, very slowly, and I've just jumped into NaNoWriMo for the year. (To allow a bit of free advertising, I'll be chronicling this over at my blog, where the results will eventually be uploaded; if you're in for a bit of psychological horror and vampires, check it out (sans spaces): blog. erratic-flux .net / rockin So I'm not going to lie; there probably won't be another update until the end of the month.

As for this chapter -- pass judgment! I don't know what to think anymore. There are things I definitely like, as I really love the last few chapters, but I'm so worried that this chapter is going to seem ill-fitted, and will ruin the mood (just in case chapter eight didn't ruin it for enough people). So let me know what you really think, ladies and gents. And since I won't be able to update before the holiday, Happy Very Early Thanksgiving!

such as the phrase, "beat it like it owes you money," which got paraphrased into part of the chapter.