Chapter Two: The Symphony of the Air Changes
Colliding with the concrete, the wheels of the plane wavered up and down unsteadily before grounding. As Joey was forced to touch down into reality, the memory-reel slowed down, and the projection of his thoughts flickered away. Milwaukee, he sighed and opened his eyes to greet the foreign territory that he'd traded up familiarity so uncertainly for.
The motions of Joey's feet pushing back the ground contrasted against Kaiba's immobilized posture, planted firmly in his first class seat, neither of them realizing that their fate was only separated by a matter of miles. As the once troubled youth took in the unfamiliar atmosphere with meandering meanings that twisted his stomach into knots, the established CEO's composure became increasingly calm, singularly focusing on his destination. Despite the fact both boys had invested their sense of relief within the idealistic prospect of escape, for Joey Wheeler the decision took everything, and for Seto Kaiba, the choice was effortless. Paradoxically intertwined, their ensuing journey would soon evoke endless trial and tribulation, only to reveal the reality that both had surrendered themselves to an indistinguishable providence.
The scenic still frames of Joey's expectations had suddenly been set into motion, his eyes latched onto the images passing by the window of the taxi in a colorful blur, everything became a series of lines and shapes as symmetries meshed in and out of focus. He was completely unable to secure any notion of the concrete; even the precise planning and carefully calculated relocation was merely an abstraction. Although he'd visited the country many times before in his past pursuits, it was never anything he had to get used to it, he had only been there by chance, welcomed as a visitor, but now he was forced to assimilate himself as he made his debut as a full fledged American citizen. His ambition steadily decreased, even more than it already had, as the variation between skyscrapers and suburbia was so proportionally unsound, one minute he was surrounded by highways and vast, lush greenery, the next he was suddenly submerged into a sea of massive buildings, which the taxi driver navigated in and out of with ease. Joey's eyes refocused in fascination of every detail, taking note of how just has easily as he had entered the city, he emerged onto a winding road that traced the lake front, leading the car into a series of residential, grid-like street patterns. There were virtually no parallels Joey was able to draw between Milwaukee and Domino City, even basic buildings structures were drastic in differentiation, the street signs and markings indiscernible in comparison, and the human to vehicle ratio completely thrown off balance.
"That will be thirty-dollars and fifty-three cents," the cab driver repeated a third time as he cleared his throat more rudely than the second.
Joey's cheeks flooded with embarrassment. We're already here you moron, he scolded himself, pulling out the correct currency. "Sorry about that," he wanted so badly to murmur, but had nervously over-emphasized his English, feeling more misplaced than ever.
"Seto K..Kay…Kayb.." The rotund, rosy colored immigration clerk squinted through his spectacles.
Tapping his foot impatiently, biting his tongue from a verbal out-lashing of epic proportion, Seto reduced his reaction towards such ignorant inability, with extreme difficulty, down to a condescending correction, "Kaiba."
Intimidated by Kaiba's confidently dictating stance and flawlessly forceful English, the clerk limited eye contact for the rest of the procedure, "Welcome to Milwaukee," he spoke straight into the passport as he returned it.
Feeding off his signature air of superiority, sharp cobalt vaults became electrically charged, "Look at me when you talk you unintelligent waste of air," were the words swimming inside Seto's mouth, but he chose to engage in another directly disdainful discourse.
After Kaiba had all his affairs in order, he began to feel far from relieved, and in place of it surfaced the feeling his pride had been degraded, and his fixed facial expressions revealed absolute disgust towards how politely he forcibly conducted himself. In Seto's eyes such compliance with those beneath him potentiated a visual of weakness that began to take a heavy toll on his empowering self-confidence the second he landed. Emitting a primitive, Darwinian dominance had always been instinctual to Kaiba, it was a self-governing law, and going against it was like rewiring his entire outlook. Unable to hide behind the wall he had spent his entire creating, Seto lost that sense of security, rendering himself absolutely defenseless to these inconceivable emotions. For the first time in a long time, Seto Kaiba would have to struggle to survive.
The one bedroom apartment seemed to settle Joey's nerves; the silence wrapped itself securely around his subconscious, smothering the sound of empty bottles shattering against walls and windowsills that he's grown oh so familiar to at home. Momentarily, the unfamiliar atmosphere transposed, yet thoughts of his father were insuppressible. The alcoholic fits, all those drunken disasters, but even then it was that unbearable sense of contempt that Mr. Wheeler had always shown him. It didn't matter to Joey anymore that he might not belong here, because he never truly belonged anywhere. His father never made even the slightest attempt to deny it and the verbal out lashings freely admitted how unwanted his son had always been, Joey clenched his eyes tightly, one day stood out in particular as several surfacing memories interposed.
"I'm late," Mai blurted quickly.
"What?" he asked confused.
She inhaled, "My period. I'm late."
"Okay, so?"
"Joey," Mai said again slowly, "I'm late."
There was a sudden silence, "Fuck."
As simple as the conversation had been, it was one that Joey could never forget. He hadn't even noticed how tightly he had begun to clutch the Harpy Lady card in his hand. As the memory merged into the next though, he released his grip on the card, and it floated to the ground with an almost feather like motion.
Subdued in another substance invoked outrage, Mr. Wheeler's stance swayed from side to side, provoking his son as usual, "I don't care if that slut is pregnant or not," the words slipped and slurred, "You're not going anywhere. With all the fucking shit you've pulled with me, you should be grateful, god damn it," nothing that fled his lips was making sense, but it didn't take away from how badly it hurt. "I mean, you really think after all your screwing and now this bullshit mess you've made that I'll ever let you out of here?"
He could hear the concerned whimpering of Serenity trying to conceal herself crying in the next room, it was bad enough that this is what she had to see when she came home. Joey was emboldened as he spat back at him furiously, "Like father like son. I'm not the only one who slept around."
Fiery, scarlet hues deepened Mr. Wheeler's already drunkenly flushed face as he slammed a Jack Daniels bottle against the wall, "I will not let you fuck someone else's life up exactly like you fucked mine."
"Key word fucked," Joey screamed, "Only you're the one who did that in this case, you should have killed me when you still had the chance."
"Believe me," there was a cold cackling in the way his father yelled back, "I tried."
"Then let me GO!" Joey was hysterical.
That same cold, cruel sensation of neglect carved away in Joey's eyes, followed by forming rings of water; he didn't have anyone to get away from this time, and he had no idea where he was going, but Joey ran like hell.
Without his staff to provide him with services, and without the luxury of his own iridescent, flawless deep blue Bentley, Kaiba took to the idea of having to walk as an insult. What kind of fucking plan was this in the first place, he gritted his teeth, like giving up my company, my millions, my goddamn mansion just to live like…like, like fucking Wheeler was supposed to make me feel BETTER? Mentally, even the taste of Joey's name inside Kaiba's mouth repulsed him, and realizing he just inherited the lifestyle of his adversary made his stomach spoil. Jesus, I think I might be sick, living like that insolent, idiotic, incapable, blabbering, blonde bastard, was worse than living with him. Besides, that is no lifestyle for someone of my stature; Seto regained a sinister smirk as he allowed the running joke of Joey Wheeler to fill his veins veraciously with vigor. Yet, despite his once again hardened exterior, re-inhabiting his old self made each passing street corner even more tantalizing, this is humiliating, this simpleton shit, as if someone secured me on a fucking leash, walking down the street, just like that mutt.
*yeahh, so this second chapter is kinda short and not the greatest. I spent a 24 hour car ride to FL attempting to write it, but kept getting headaches hah and mad, so it ends sort randomly (i might add on a tad more to it when i post chp. 3). tehe, also, don't be thrown off by the Mai references, I veryyy much so intent on sticking to my puppyshipping promises!*