*sorry this took so long—that is if anyone is still reading! but I AM in college lol. Regardless, thank you for the reviews that have been posted. Baha I've been a little too caught up with my sister's story—as well as the future happenings and prewritten scenes of my own to figure out how to continue it. As a result-here's thirty one pages. Hah
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Chapter Four: Polar Magnetism.
As Kaiba held the slick, black cellular device between his fingers tightly, he found himself unable to spend another second alone in the apartment. He was disgusted with himself.
"Seto…?" The faint traces of Mokuba's voice shook timidly in question when the other side of the line fell still.
"I'm here." Is all that Kaiba managed
"Why haven't you called?" Mokuba whispered, the sensation of teardrops trickling in his voice, but he tried his very best to be strong. "I've been really worried about you, you know that?"
"I'm sorry." The response sounded almost neglectful, but it was really the crackling tone in his younger brothers voice that had tightened like a leash around Seto's neck, leaving him unable to speak…
Denying the room around him to further constrain him, Kaiba descended down the staircase gracefully. He wasn't sure where the hell he was going to go, all he knew was that he couldn't stay there any longer. So he set forth along the Lake Front, opposite of the direction he'd taken before, his thoughts and emotions replicating the tides and currents that churned the waters so restlessly.
"Uhm, hi," Joey's voice filled the line awkwardly as he squinted at the name above the number in his hand, "Sam?"
"What's up Japan?"
He couldn't help but crack a smile, "Nothing really, just wondering if that offer was still on the table?"
"Of course," her voice continued to smile, "When are you free?"
"Well, hold on while I check my schedule," he exaggerated, "I might be able to pencil you in."
"Practicing our sarcasm are we Joseph?"
"Shut up," he smiled, twisting the phone cord around his index finger.
Kaiba continued down the winding pathway of the lakefront until he saw the increasing visual of civilization growing nearer, and nearer. The isolating effect of the people he soon surrounded himself with began to reverse the plaguing exposure he had felt from the openness of the water.
An hour or so later, the fiery red head stood wide eyed in Joey's living room, "Wow, I love what you've done with the place," she stared into the empty apartment.
"Yeah, yeah," he waved his hand.
"Did you just forget to pack the rest of your stuff?" She circled the room, taking note of the air mattress and suitcase set.
"No," he twiddled his fingers, feeling slightly embarrassed, "This is basically all I have."
She looked back at him and sighed, "You're hopeless, now come on. My car is double parked."
Turning his head back to the window, just for a second, the tail end of a familiar white, studded sheathing caught Joey's eyes. And for a split second he could have sworn he'd just seen Seto Kaiba walking down the street. Eagerly, he jerked his head around, but the silhouette was fading fast, and as hard as those brown eyes strained against the glaring sunlight, the vision was already obscured. There's just no way, Joey repositioned himself forward. It's impossible.
The unlikelihood, even the idea conjured a simultaneous swarm of sensations, deep with in his core. The sounds around him became inaudible, and his visions danced through a delusion—but as hard as Joey fought, the more easily it subdued him. It was a curiosity that both attracted and repelled him: Seto Kaiba, the one man Joey had never understood, but who now, even at the slightest hint, had become the only thing that Joey knew in this strange place.
The distracting thoughts that encircled Joey's mind had left him clueless to when, or how he had wound up stationary between the two thick, illuminating yellow lines of a parking space.
"Bed, Bath, and Beyond…?" Joey scratched his head.
"Well, you said you needed a job," she clicked the remote control keychain to lock up the car, "And the lack of personality adorning your apartment is pathetic."
"It's uh, a man cave," he glanced to the side just to avoid the stupidity of what he'd said.
"A cave maybe," she pulled at the edge of his jacket lightheartedly, "But we're going to have to bring you up to date if you wanna be able to put the man back into it."
"So, again, Bed, Bath, and Beyond…?"
As Kaiba casually sauntered through the streets, his face held a repulsed expression that caused the people around him to split apart as he approached. However, it was this air of dominance that he sought to employ. That's right, keep a move on. He smiled arrogantly; at least these American's aren't ignorant enough to realize when someone important comes around. As the myriad of cheaply decorated store windows continued do nothing but disgust the brunette with their cheap advertisement attempts, a distinguished storefront managed to catch his eye.
The prominent golden letters arched over evenly, and ran delicately down the old fashion doorway. Peabody's. Kaiba stopped and assessed the Century font that produced the name, and the golden lettering brought him to conclude the high class prominence of the piano store. Being such, he entered it willingly, drawing no strange glances from the cliental inside—all of which were tastefully adorned in precious fabrics and flamboyantly expensive prints. Now this is a little more my speed, he smiled in satisfaction, making his way over to the section of elegant, grand pianos in the back. One in particular had effortlessly caught his eye.
The model sat centered, erected on a small platform stage against the wall. As a few other clients glanced interestedly at his movements, it's clearly superior position only stroked Kaiba's ego as he climbed up to the seat. It's incredible, he breathed in and out to himself in admiration, as if the Blue Eyes itself had just taken its shape. The piano was that of a distinguished design—the woodwork was impeccable and intricate. Kaiba's captivatingly compelled auras ravished its white, high gloss finish, and the gleaming golden blue trim. Wonder if it plays half as well as it presents? He pondered, lifting up the lid to reveal its ivory keys.
Instinctively pressing down the appropriate keys and petals, he began a prelude to his past. Although this acquired taste was somewhat of a hidden talent, and something that the boy seldom revealed back home; in his youth, it was a practice, like many others, that Kaiba perfected. The thing that had stood out most, however, was not that he had mastered it so flawlessly, but the fact that unlike most other things in this world, he had genuinely enjoyed it. So much so, that to Seto, his playing had become like a safe haven, something the CEO could lose himself to when he needed to escape his troubles. Ironically towards his bleak, demeaning demeanor, the unrivaled rapture of his delicate melodies was breathtaking.
With no hesitation, gentle sounds filled the rooms, capturing everyone's attention. It was a sentimental sort of piece that he played, keeping his eyes closed as he envisioned the conversation with his Mokuba, and played out the apology. He had composed it years before as a ballad for his brother, exposing the delicate emotions that he held in Seto's heart; emotions that he had soon lost sight of how to express.
…"Why did you leave?" Mokuba's voice cracked in confusion, holding in the crocodile tears, continuing to be strong for his brother.
The softness defied Kaiba's confidence and his statement, although flat, began to falter, "I already told you Mokuba, this isn't debatable."
The younger boy, although distraught, still dug into his brother with disdain at the opening Seto had left him—and on one hand, Kaiba had almost done it on purpose to punish himself. "Yes, you've made that very clear, but that's not an answer. I said why. Tell me why you left me."
"Because I had to..."
"Ahem," the snobbish sound interrupted the song, breaking Kaiba's thoughts. "Excuse me young sir, but I'll have to ask you not to play around on the merchandise."
Frozen with infuriation, the precious memory dwindled. The motions of the boy's fingers pulled away from the keyboard, and allowed his eyes to fall intimidating on the salesman in a fiery shade of blue. "Well how do you expect me to purchase something with out playing it first? It could be defective."
"Purchase?" There was a stifled laugh as the salesperson looked beyond the piercing gaze amusedly. Upon Kaiba's entry, the man had taken notice of his distinguished dress, deciding it to be far from inexpensive, but reacted inconsiderately towards his young age.
"Do you not understand English? That is your language, is it not?"
"Why, I never!" The man exclaimed dramatically.
A satisfied and sadistic smile crept onto Seto's lips, "That's right—you never. Now, if you'll excuse me. You're interrupting."
Clearly irritated, the employee shut the cover over the glossy keys abruptly, barely missing the tips of Seto's finger as it clamped shut. "Young man, maybe you didn't understand me—this piano costs twenty-two thousand dollars."
"And what is your point?"
"My point!" The man breathed bewildered and aggressively, "—is that you wont have the money to cover any damage you may cause."
You incompetent moron, piano's are made for playing, he thought rationally. And so this time Kaiba let out a conceited laugh, "Listen, that does not even begin to even compare to the figures of my salary."
"Your salary?"
A slick eyebrow rose superciliously above his blue eyes, which took offensively to the man's disbelieving and belittling stance. "You're ignorance insults me!" Kaiba said eloquently, yet with great impertinence. "Yes, my salary—do you think I would say otherwise if it weren't? Now unless you intend on stating a relevant point, then I highly suggest you and your tacky, two hundred dollar suit get out of my sight immediately."
"YOU'RE NOT BUYING THIS PIANO!"
"I'll by this GODDAMN store, DO YOU HEAR ME?" Seto boomed.
The man shriveled down slightly, especially as the younger boy's height cast a condescending shadow over his own, but went completely limp as a third voice approached.
"Come now Jenkins," A gentleman, who later introduced himself as the store's owner, placed a hand over his shoulder, "There is no need to insult our customers like that, now go tend to the register."
The irate worker glared once more at Seto, gritting his teeth, and stomping off out of view; Kaiba smirked satisfactorily at his victory, then turned back to Mr. Peabody, who engaged him charismatically, "So, how long have you been taking lessons?"
"…lessons…?" Kaiba answered obliviously to the word. "I've never taken one."
"You mean…you taught yourself?"
"Well, yes. When I was six," Seto recalled slowly, taken back by the other man's personable nature. "No one ever touched the one we had back home, so I was always quiet curious."
"Well," his face formed a wrinkled smile, "I must admit that I'm rather impressed. Your playing is really rather beautiful, and your style is very unique in its complexity," the owner complimented.
"Uhm, thanks I guess," Kaiba muttered softly, he was unsure of how to respond appropriately to such pleasantries.
"And you have exceptionally good taste too," the owner stepped up, placing an aged hand delicately on the top of the instrument, "Steinway is one of my favorites. However," he continued apologetically, "I'm afraid another client has already made me a rather generous offer."
"So, you're saying…?"
He let out a deep, almost parental sort of laugh. "Well my boy—what I'm saying is that I'm sorry to disappoint you, but there is no chance that I'm going to be able to sell this piano to you. Especially not at its asking price, my client made sure to go well and above to ensure it would still be here upon his return."
Kaiba merely shrugged unalarmed, "I'll triple his offer."
"But that's…"
"Sixty-six thousand dollars?" Kaiba asked entertained, quickly completely the calculation.
Mr. Peabody's fingers twiddled in temptation as he thought the sum over in his head, eyes still bulging out at the price Seto had left in the air. "Still…I'm not sure how I'll explain to this to the buyer…"
"Quiet frankly," Seto started honestly, "I don't really care what you tell him. However, as a business man of my stature—I know when to make a good deal when I see one—I'd expect you to do the same."
"So, triple you say?" The old man began rubbing his chin profitably in thought now, "And you'll be able to pay this up front?"
Kaiba smiled, "I'll pay you in cash if you want me to."
Needless to say, Kaiba had successfully secured the deal—however, that was no surprising triumph for him. If Seto Kaiba wanted something—then Seto Kaiba got it. Money was never any concern to him. He could have just as easily set more than twice that amount on fire—and still never noticed it was missing.
Joey leaned against the wall out of breath from heaving all those bags up the stairs—Sam had leant him some extra money. "Jesus, you're killing me" he exclaimed, as she walked towards his bed. "Women are dangerous!" He kidded, closing his eyes, "I can see the headlines now—Death By Design!"
"What are these," she knelt down observantly, collecting the three duel monster cards from beside the bedside table, "Some sort of collectables?"
Joey's eyes locked immediately on the vague backsides of blurring golden brown dimensions, the dark voids widening against his irises, "Give me those," he tore the cards from her fingers quickly. "They aren't anything," he gently cupped them in his hands, sheltering them protectively against his chest.
Sam's own eyes widened in response, her lips parting, but not emitting any sound. However, it only took her a few moments to adapt, quickly assimilating the air of importance they must have held. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"I think you should go," Joey's words fled faster than he had intended, and twice as harshly as he wished. The steady rhythm in his chest now pulsated staccato vibrations throughout the duelist's staggering frame.
Although she was unable to retrace the tensing transformation of their conversation back to any rationally reasonable trigger, Sam respected the seemingly sensitive nature of which had affected the boy. Excusing herself with another soft apology, she let herself out, several amethyst auras falling sadly upon Joey's face as she disappeared without protest.
The berated blonde, however, had hardly noticed the concern encircling her face; instead, Joey was too absorbed in this shivering sensation that his stomach seemed to savor. How dare she ask about something so personal, he scolded with his eyes shut, even though he knew there was no way for Sam to have recognized them as anything more than they appeared to be.
For all she knew, they were simply trading cards—and under any other circumstances, Joey would have agreed, but over the years his experiences and the intricate images had transposed indistinguishably. Feeling as if all the memories had been unwillingly exposed, Joey felt an alarming sense of panic. Fingertips traced over the fragile outlines systematically, as the pattern in his breathing heaved in and out steadily in order to regain a sense of equilibrium.
It was no use though and neither the movements of his meandering hands, nor the methodical motions of his lungs were able to calm the collisions within his chest. In fact, Joey was hardly able to detect the smooth surface rounding the edges of the cards at all. The inability to feel sharply intensified the alarming rate at which his heartbeat continued accelerating. Still, he retained the ritualistic repetitions until his fingers faltered, falling inward along the flawless edges of his Red Eyes that went jaggedly into the center of the card. Suddenly, both conflicted corneas shot open, intensified with the inability to fathom the visual of his precious dragon in ruins.
The other two cards fell down to his feet lifelessly, "No, no," his heart slammed against his chest in a palpitating pattern, "Not my Red Eyes!" Joey voiced his distress, but the only sound reaching his eardrums was the shear scissoring sound of the paper tearing apart. The force he had exerted in attempts to shelter the cards from exposure had betrayed the protective intentions, leaving the cards not only exposed, but in ruins. The beastly body of the mysteriously magnificent creature was now frayed, and the stoic symmetry of the Red Eyes Black Dragon, forever disrupted.
Feeling equally out of his element, Kaiba had retreated from the music store, and down the same path he'd come down. There was a faint humming of crickets in the air, and the deep, midnight blue skies were clear—revealing a picturesque dusting of twinkling lights that danced on top of the water's shadow. Their reflections rippled in and out of focus the same way Kaiba's thoughts lingered back and forth between the incomplete fragments of his phone call. It was hard enough to live through the first time, but the voice in his head echoed on endlessly.
…"Well that's not good enough!" the younger Kaiba cried out. "How is that a reason? Listen to yourself Seto!" The silence that shifted into Seto though was far from stoic now, it was suffocating every inch of air. His voice was lost, and Mokuba began to cry out. "When are you going to be back then?" The words hesitated between whether to pose a statement or a question, "When are you coming home…"
The brunette's eyelids clenched together tightly, and he could hardly breathe. "I'm not."
"That's enough," Kaiba commanded himself verbally, taking no notice to the woman passing by who offered him a disturbed look. His highly militarized mind wouldn't allow the rest of the conversation to advance any further. So instead the devastating after math chased him at the heals as the weaving waves overlapped in his mind, but as painfully as the memory tried to persist, the look on his face gave nothing away. He locked it up inside, allowing the undertow to drag it deep beneath the surface.
But there was no current strong enough to swallow Joey. The clock on the wall began to blur, it had hardly been five whole minutes, and yet the notion of time already erased. Instead of the lifeless crystal face of an ordinary timepiece, Joey saw the mocking motions of Yugi's Time Wizard against the clock on the wall, its hands spiraling uncontrollably around against the gamble of a Time Roulette that landed upon eminent destruction. Even if he played the remainder of his time out right, this was one loss that was irreversible, and his Red Eyes would never again be whole. There was an undeniable divide throughout the trading card that made a mirroring mark in his heart.
There was no longer any air in the room for his lungs to latch onto, Joey's head became hazy and unclear, his appendages paralyzed against the gravity that downwardly grounded his frame into the carpet. The deep blue pattern and wooly texture were meant to mask the hardwood floor in warmth, but the consistency caressing his cheeks still felt cold. What the fuck was all that, his thoughts gasped, still stunned and in shock, feeling as if he'd just undergone cardiac arrest. He couldn't connect the happenings though, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out when he'd fallen against the floor. Yet despite the lapse in logic, despite the chain of events that had seemingly evaporated from his recollect—Joey was laying bunched up on the ground. Tears tensely tethered between the course carpet fibers, into which they cascaded from Joey's entangled eyes that entrancingly encircled the card his fingers locked onto. His heart had regained a reasonable rhythm, but Joey was certain it had exploded at one point. Bewildering breaths finally broke against the air, staggering to swallow enough oxygen to obliterate the stationary suffocation; but upon resuscitation, all his heartbeat could do was bellow.
Barely breathing himself, Seto was also surrounded by an equally inconceivable situation back within the confinements of his luxurious, lakeshore residence. Yet, although his insides waged a merciless war against the memories magnifying within Kaiba's frame of conscious, there was some sense of method behind the madness.
Self restricting, selfish reactions from his previous phone call with Mokuba reflected in the anxiousness of his azure eyes. Unable to verbally admit his insensitivity left Seto consumed with the intricacies of his guilty complex, and knowing nothing but the necessity of correcting and conditioning, Kaiba inflicted the agony willingly to punish himself. Allowing the cries of Mokuba to echo inside his head, Kaiba clenched his eyes quietly, but resisted the desperate desire to redirect his thoughts. I can't believe I just left him…my only family…
Everything slowly flooded. His aching heart muscles strained against the unfamiliarity of his emotions, and the stressor caused an incalculable acceleration of adrenaline that exhausted all of his energy. Forcibly fashioning the phases of his self induced hysteria, Kaiba willed his aching orbs to open next, but inhumanely forbid himself from crying as his fingers crept up to the locket. The sterling silver chain felt like an asphyxiating anchor around his neck, but the progression of Kaiba's fingers remained constant until positioned around the frame.
Rather than lift it upward, allowing himself to breathe, Kaiba strained the chain outward until it practically choked him. Yet, there was almost a pleasant quirk in the painful angel of his fragilely formulating frown as Seto's eyes forcibly furrowed to face the still frame that lay beyond the clasp. A small, inaudible click filled his ears and the custom cardholder unfastened, revealing the raven-haired silhouette of his younger brother. Two bright blue, indigo orbs that appeared to be tinted over ever so slightly in amethyst, shot up into Seto's, allowing their own fierce vibrancy to fall soullessly into shadows as he cast them over Mokuba's remorsefully. He could never, and would never, willingly bring himself to forgive such a neglectful abandonment of the promises he'd so thoughtlessly broken.
Although terribly flawed, Kaiba saw no other way to justly discipline his actions, than by plaguing himself mercilessly: constantly reminding himself of what he had done, and recreating the devastating sensation with visual accompaniment. It was a kinesthetic kind of learning, which he had to systematically carry out in a continuous fashion until the lesson imprinted itself inside the hollowness of his heart. The wavering weakness of rendering his emotions, willingly, to exposure combine with the countermeasure of evoking such earsplitting internal cries is what incrementally assessed the endless cycle. The deeper the painful burrowing, the more effectively the lesson proved—and the more agonizingly he exerted forbearance against emotional alleviation, the more learnedly the lesson was applied.
The session would not commence until Seto left himself thoroughly fatigued, until his eyes burned, and his throat bled with the same intensity he forcibly conditioned himself to uphold throughout his childhood. Despite the fact he tortured himself, it was necessary to develop such defenses while living under Gozaburo's roof all those years. To ensure Mokuba's wellbeing, he had to dehumanize his own—and their stepfather's rendition of parenting made it applicably easier to self instill.
After an hour of endless repetition, battling his own will against his restraint, Seto sank into himself—and satisfied with the resultant procedures, he finally called off the vicious attacks. Feeling the iciness compose his heartache accordingly, he sighed and slipped between the covers—mixing ice cubes calmly in his tonic before letting the liquid splash, refreshingly, down his throat.
Sighing, he twisted the switch next to his bedside to dim the lights, pulling his laptop out of his briefcase, and calmly corresponding to his corporate affairs. Emotionally unaffected, his eyes were fixed lifelessly on the dim illumination of the screen, and it was business as usual, letting his fingers glide over the keyboard unerringly—as if nothing else had even happened.
As he lay awake in his bed, Joey couldn't help but replay the events of the day over again in his head. Centralizing mainly around these alarming and devastating spirals he began slipping into lately. It's just not normal, he shook his head, pulling his cigarette from his lips, and exhaling slowly. I've never felt so out of control in my life. To be honest, it's kind of starting to scare me. I thought getting away from everything was going to be good for me—I couldn't wait to put myself back out there, y'know to reestablish myself somewhere where nobody knew me. He sighed in again slowly, and flicked half a cigarette into the ashtray. It was still relatively early he concluded, turning over on his side with his cell phone resting against his palm. Joey was still plenty upset over his Red Eyes, but regardless of its importance, It's still just a card—a piece of paper, he rationalized, it's the idea behind it that's important, and I can't believe that I just screamed at her, and after she's clearly gone out of her way to help make me feel more comfortable here. Joey frowned as he continued to conclude how out of character he'd really become. I would never yell at Yugi or Tristen like that, and it's not like she sat there and tore the card up herself-that was my fault. What's wrong with you Joey? He began asking himself. You're acting like fucking Kaiba for god's sake. The idea alone made him cringe, just the thought of turning into someone as arrogant and insensitive made his blood boil in disgust.
Knowing there was no other way he was going to clear his conscious, he began to dial up Sam so that he could apologize for how outrageously he'd acted that afternoon. Sitting up in his bed patiently, balancing the phone between his head and his shoulder, he lit another cigarette to calm his nerves. It's not like he thought she was going to be furious, or that the idea of apologizing was going to be difficult—it was the fact that he knew he'd have to explain himself that made Joey nervous. But honestly, he rationalized once more, how can I possibly expect to move on with my life if I can't even talk about fucking trading cards?—all I even would have had to say was that they were something that reminded me of my friends back home. Why did I have to make that so fucking hard? Although his logic continued, it was interrupted when Sam's voice filled the line.
"Joey?" She asked, not quiet as hesitantly as she had back in his apartment, but not quiet as enthusiastically as she'd answered that morning either.
"Hey Sam," he forced himself to cut straight to the point, "I just, well, I just wanted to apologize for this afternoon. I didn't mean to act like that."
She let out a small laugh, "It's okay, it's pretty obvious I overstepped some personal boundaries."
"No," Joey shook his head, even though she couldn't see that through the phone, "It was me who was overstepping."
"Does that mean you're gonna tell me what those were?"
Joey inhaled deeply, hesitating only because he suddenly felt embarrassed again—telling a complete stranger that your life used to revolve around being a professional card game player probably wasn't the most impressive way to tell somebody you spent the last years of your life.
"It's okay," she spoke up again, "You don't have to if you don't want to."
"Nah, it's not that, I was just overreacting earlier that's all. They're just cards, it sounds kind of silly, but there just kind of like reminders," Joey laughed. Even though nothing about what he'd said was even remotely funny, the laugh was more like a nervous habit he'd formed over the years, always using his sense of humor to downplay a situation.
Somehow she seemed to understand this though, even without really knowing anything about Joey. "Of your friends you mean?"
"Yeah, actually," he felt somewhat surprised with how effortlessly she could see right through him.
She breathed out slowly, "Are you ever going to tell me about them?"
Joey fell silent for a moment, I guess I didn't realize how closed off I've been, but it was still hard for him to just start spilling his life story. "I…I don't know," he mumbled unconfidently, but it was a little easier for him to gather his thoughts over the phone than in person. "It's just kind of hard to figure out where to start…" his voice trailed off once more.
Sam's amiable tone began to fill in his blanks, "That's understandable, you're a long way from home Joey, I wouldn't expect the transition to be that easy."
"That's true," he agreed, beginning to realize that maybe being so far from home was actually what had been making him so hostile after all. "I guess, well, I just left a lot behind in Japan."
"Well, yeah," she laughed, although spoke sincerely and not sarcastically, "You left your whole life behind."
Joey dragged his cigarette again thoughtfully before responding, it was almost scary how easily she seemed to understand how he was feeling. And even though all those friendship speeches got kind'a obnoxious, Joey grinned thinking back to Tea, it's kind of nice to have someone else around like her who's so in tune with people's emotions. And for a second, he almost forgot that it was really Mai that Sam had originally reminded him so much of.
"Listen, it's not that late," she offered after Joey failed to say anything back, "I can come back over if you want?"
"That'd be nice actually," he decided aloud, figuring maybe having some company really would cheer him up.
"Okay, well just give me like twenty minutes and I'll come by. Besides," the tone of her voice grew somewhat playful, "I think I might have something that'll cheer you up Japan."
A nervous churning conjured in his stomach though, as her image reverted back to Mai's again, and Joey's head took her intentions five miles in the wrong direction. "Uhm…"
"Don't worry Joey, I'm not gonna try and fuck you or anything," she laughed, seemingly detecting the confusion coming from the blonde, "Lets just say, it's more of an herbal remedy."
"Herbal remedy?" Joey spoke aloud befuddled, "Ya' mean like….tea?"
"Oh my god," she snorted, "You are really so much more precious than you realize. No, I'm not bringing you tea you moron. Although," her voice trailed off, "I guess you could use it for that if you really wanted."
"I'm lost," Joey shook his head.
"Perhaps it's a cultural difference," she posed, somewhat questioningly to herself, "But I'll be over soon—maybe we can mark this as the first step of your Americanization!"
After hanging up the phone, Joey got up from his bed and began to prepare his apartment a little more appropriately for having guests. Starting with picking up the Duel Monster cards that still lay on the carpet, no need to call anymore unnecessary attention to you guys, he concluded, picking them up and placing them within one of the zipper pockets on his backpack. Next, he cleared away the mess of ashes he'd left around his bed from anxious chain smoking, and changed into something else than just his boxers. Probably might come off a little suggestive, he laughed to himself, slipping into sweats and a black t-shirt.
Around 10:30, almost precisely twenty minutes later like she promised, there was a knock on his door. After letting Sam in and getting situated, both of them sat pretzel legged on Joey's bed, across from one another.
"So," Joey started off the conversation, for once the look in his eyes was somewhat normal as opposed to the dreary downcast gaze that had so routinely filled the blonde's eyes, "What exactly is this solution you talked about earlier supposed to be for?"
"Well Japan, I'm glad you asked," she smiled, digging through her purse to retrieve a small zipper pouch, not yet revealing its contents. "I don't want you to feel like you have to spill out your whole life story to me or anything, but I'm a pretty observant person. And, well, I've noticed that ever since I met you, you've seemed pretty tense."
"I'm not tense!" Joey spoke up defensively, the word immediately associating with Kaiba. Hah, I am nowhere near as rigid as moneybags.
"Oh relax, are you on your period or something?" She rolled her eyes, "I just meant that you look like you've always got a lot going on in that big, blonde head of yours is all. It's not a bad thing, I just think you need to learn how to relax a little more. After all, you are like, what? Almost twenty hours away from home?"
"Yeah, yeah," Joey shrugged, even though he knew she was dead on as usual. I have hardly been able to keep a consistent mood since I got to this place. "Guess I've been feelin' a little trapped in my own head lately."
"Exactly," she nodded, beginning to reveal this mysterious miracle cure from inside the smaller bag she retrieved earlier. "And, I don't know how you guys relieve stress back in Japan…"
Hah, card games, Joey laughed in his own head.
"…but here in the states, we have a lot of relaxing extracurricular activities. And, since you didn't strike me as the go out and get involved type, I figured maybe you'd enjoy one of my more laid back, personal favorites." She reached in and pulled out a small, blown glass device of alternating black, white, blue, and red swirls. Joey recognized the device immediately with an amused grin, but she continued without picking up on the cue. "Hopefully you wont be offended," she laughed, pulling out a ziplock bag that held a very distinct aroma, "But I find that a big ol' bowl pack can cure just about anything."
Joey continued to assess the bag of weed sitting on her lap next the pipe, allowing himself to take a deep, subtle breath that filled his nostrils with a rather potent blend. "Y'know, just cause I'm from Japan doesn't mean I'm a total moron," he grinned, "Contrary to popular belief, we do know about more than technology."
"Well, I didn't say that, now did I?" Sam corrected him humorously, "Besides, don't you know that us ignorant American's associate that stereotype with the Chinese?"
"Oh my god," Joey covered his face with his hand, "That was terrible."
"And so is your ability to detect sarcasm," she flashed a toothy, mocking smile.
Joey sighed, "As you keep tellin' me."
"But anyways, clearly you're aware of the wonderful world of marijuana, but have you ever actually smoke before? I mean, obviously I don't want to keep busting it out if it's not really your thing."
"Can't say I'm a big stoner or anything," he shrugged, "But yeah I've smoked before, believe it or not I used to be in a gang when I was a lot younger," he laughed softly without realizing how easily disclosed such a personal aspect of his life.
"A gang huh?" She raised her eyebrows, "I can't say I pegged you for that sort of thing."
"Hah, well, let's just say it wasn't exactly the most conventional gang, at least not compared to what you're probably assuming." Doubt beating the shit out of people with yo-yo's is equivalent to the Latin Kings, Joey thought amusedly, reflecting back on his reckless years.
"Well let's hope not, last thing I need to get is shot," she said sarcastically. "So, you down to smoke then Japan?"
Joey narrowed his eyes, "Well I'm not sure if Japan would like to smoke, but I know that Joey wouldn't mind."
"Sorry, sorry," she waved off the nickname she'd grown somewhat accustomed to using, "But I'm glad, I mean, like I said, I don't really know how frequently you've done it, but trust me, I really think it might help you ease into this whole transition a little better."
Although he'd never been partial to the idea of drugs, this particular substance was one that Joey believed didn't fall under the category of 'drugs'-it was just a plant. It's not like he was blowing down coke like he'd seen some of his other former gang members' intake addictively. Plus, he was curious to remember how the effects settled into his blood stream as he reached out to retrieve the bowl Sam had packed, and extended forwards.
After all, Joey stared down thoughtfully as he placed the pipe between his lips, it's been awhile since I've gotten high. I had to cut back after awhile. After all, despite the fact it did add to the overall experience of holographic, three dimensional, mystical monsters, it posed a challenge to strategizing throughout a dual. So, with his lighter aimed carefully, corning one of the edges, as not to waste all the 'greens', he flicked his finger across the wheel and inhaled deeply. As the thick clouding smoke gathered in the chamber, he removed his finger systematically from the clear hole, and sucked down the rest of his hit before handing it back; carefully holding it in for a good minute or two, trying to zero it out before releasing again.
"Like a champ," Sam remarked approvingly, mimicking the same motions as Joey.
The two of them continued to repeat the process for a few bowl packs straight, before Sam finally went back home for the night—making sure to leave Joey a few pre-rolled joints in case he needed another quick fix.
Inhaling deeply, with another cigarette resting in his hand, Joey leaned back comfortably in his bed as the alternating effects of the toxin sifted more deeply into his blood stream. His high had setin almost immediately, and even more pleasantly than he remembered, as the more it kicked in, the more it kicked out all of the undesirable thoughts that had been plaguing him lately. In fact, Joey found himself not thinking at all, not about Mai, or his Red Eyes, or Japan—none of it. Laughing and relaxing, completely absorbed with the cigarette smoke rings he blew, effortlessly, above his head. Joey was absolutely elated; finding his mindset lingering back into a setting he recognized. Despite the shifting smoke screen that obscured his slanted, blood shot ruby eyes, Joey was seeing everything clearly… or so he thought.
The next day, the rays of sunlight crept slowly through the blinds, cleansing Seto's mind completely of the previous day; besides, he had official Kaiba Corp. business to adhere to today, and therefore could not allow himself to be distracted. Joey on the other hand had reverted to the exact, exasperating way he had been the last; the absence of the toxin welcomed all those bad thoughts back into his mind. And the alternating mental atmosphere had morphed his dreams into an irreconcilable blend of nightmares.
Joey distanced himself the entire day. Although temporarily distracted, he found himself sulking back into the stagnation of his sobriety. Sam may have acted as a distraction of sorts to the inevitable loneliness of starting over, but at the same time, her striking resemblance to Mai made it almost impossible to forget everything he'd run so far away from. Alone in his apartment, with both legs pulled into his chest; Joey found the silence hugging him closely. I can't do this, his voice trembled, involuntarily clenching his fingers even more tightly into the denim on his jeans, a salty serum hovering around his eyelashes.
The blonde tried desperately to dissuade his outburst; his shoulders shook vulnerably under the weight of his wailing. Each stifled cry was muffled as Joey pressed his eyelids deeper and deeper into the fabric, contracting his stomach muscles helplessly when his weathered frame continued to cascade contemptuously out onto the floor. As if some invisible force had demagnetized the duelist's defenses, Joey struggled to pull himself back upright. In all his life, he'd never felt so helpless, with absolutely nothing left to ground into for support.
They're gone, Joey reminded himself over and over again with both fists tangled through a mess of golden hair, They're all gone—I don't need them—I've never needed anyone.The negativity consumed him as he began to find a sort of empowerment, damning everything and everyone around him. They just leave…they always leave. Joey's breath went jagged against the out of sync rhythm of his chest. Even Mai…she's gone… "She'd dead," he found himself paralyzed; it was the first time that he'd ever said it out loud. The words of acceptance should have filled him with relief, he finally said it, she was never coming back, he couldn't save her, it was never his choice to crossover, it was hers.
The ceiling began to chip away like picturesque flakes of paint falling from the walls. The floorboards beneath them splintered, and the extinguishing cries of The Great Leviathan erupted, as the legendary beast elevated lifelessly above their heads. The Pharaoh shielded his eyes against the turbulent tremors that tore down the room around them. Joey's face, although still frozen in stone, began to regain feeling somewhere out of body; his soul suddenly becoming swallowed into ultraviolet auras as the room burst into flames.
As the explosive entities, trapped systematically, adorning Dartz's stone slab, became malleable as the magma melted away their restraints. Hovering above in a decaying dome of emerald incandescence, the casualties of the oricalchos gleamed celestially around him. Floating centripetally overhead, the inevitable forces of motion and gravity spun their shapes, pulling them back towards the flickering flames of rebirth. Yet, as each individual absorbed the reflections of the other, the incarnation of quintessence that defined and distinguished them became contravening. Lost to a void, they had forcibly abandoned much more than just bodily experience. Still partially frozen, Joey found the completion of his metamorphosis obsolete as images of Yugi, Kaiba, Mai, and even Valon paralleled his peripherals. He could hear the deep and distant echo of the Pharaoh's voice wandering eminently in and out of his ears, as the final phase left them oscillating between the combustious embers.
The discretion was an unspoken understanding amongst the duelists—to rise from the ashes, or to become forever entrapped in endless light. Regardless of the opportune direction that Kaiba irrefutably advanced towards, Joey's gut tangled in question, no matter what he chose, both extremes burned the air in his lungs, and he choked to find any silver lining amidst the hellacious horizon.
Joey's fists bawled up tensely as he struggled to relive the vividly surreal footage of the single moment that had successfully broken him. Despite the pulse that still violated his pleading veins, part of him died that day.
Detecting a rhythm beneath his breast, Joey's heart took off running, how could they ever go back so easily after everything they'd just been through? His eyes were drawn unexpectedly to Kaiba's, which looked back at Joey's hesitance in disbelief, and for a moment, almost concern. In those few seconds, Joey developed an agonizing twist in his heart that he hoped the other boy wouldn't recognize; in all his life he had never felt a single bone in his body go soft at the sight of Seto. His indigo eyes seemed to electrify against the scarlet shadows of Joey's own. For the first time, the blonde became transfixed with the executive; he both deeply admired and envied Kaiba's sense of courage and confidence.
"Come on, seriously Wheeler," the feeling dimmed as Kaiba rolled his eyes, "Please tell me that even you're not stupid enough to stay." Even a breath away from death, and Seto's disdainful expression hadn't changed at all. Joey stuttered, but didn't speak.
"Yeah Joey," Yugi glanced back, "It's time to go home."
"C'mon mate." Even Valon had spoken up awkwardly from behind, Joey had almost forgotten he was there, "This is no place or someone like you-'never give up,' remember?" his former enemy spoke genuinely. "You taught me that."
"But," Joey whispered silently, as the seconds' left to decide drew to a close. He was about to protest, feeling weak and exhausted, when a warm hand slid affectionately through his fingers, "He's right Joey."
Suddenly, everything froze again, and even Joey's pulse dropped, the sound of Mai paralyzed him, and shivers chased her voice down his spine. In all this time, he'd been terrified to look back at her, even holding eyes with Seto Kaiba had been effortless compared to the idea of finally re-meeting Mai's. He didn't need to verbalize that for her though, she already knew, so instead Joey's fingers tightened around hers, pulling Mai ever so slightly into him. Locks of her hair fell around his shoulders as she held her face delicately against the back of his neck. A slightly reassuring sensation crept back into him, but as soon as he built up the courage to face her, Joey's entire world shattered against her words, "But I can't go with you this time," her voice was pained, but her face was sincere. Everyone else was thrown into a deeper silence, and even Valon bore a look of surprise, yet softened slightly towards Mai because unlike the others, he understood why.
Joey's eyes searched through hers, ruby sparks that were flickering away, pleaded for an explanation, his reaction to the calmness of her composure came in a blur of emotions, shifting in his facial expressions as the disbelief subsided. Mai watched him patiently as his eyebrows fluctuated back and forth from infuriation and immense distress. "Mai!" the tone of his voice cracked spitefully, "How can you say that to me! After everything…" his throat was swelling under the pressure of his words, "I don't…I just…why Mai…"
She sighed heavily, still holding his hand more tightly than before, "I'm tired Joey," her eyes strayed sideways to the view beneath them, and Joey's features began to soften, he couldn't bear to see that lifeless look flooding into her eyes again. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but Joey refused to accept the reality of it. His chest heaved and his eyes burned, every confirmation she gave him was like glass in his ears.
"It's okay," her voice, although small, had regained the confident vigor she'd lost sight of before, "Don't ask me to try and explain myself. Please, trust me Joey." Her eyes poured into him as she repositioned both hands around his abdomen that tightened and clenched. Even free from the oricalchos, Joey understood that she'd been through hell. Bringing him into a tender embrace, she took the words right out of his mouth, "It's just too much Joey," her tears were almost calloused.
"God damn it," he cursed in Japanese, slamming his fist against the dresser as he got up, too aggravated to just sit there. Pacing around the pattern on the carpet, Joey encircled the apartment; it was supposed to be his escape, but now it felt more like a prison. How was he just supposed to forget her? To just let go of the woman he promised he would stand by unconditionally? The guilt was unbearable. Lighting up a cigarette with tremoring hands, his back melted down the doorframe, and into a puddle on the ground, crying just a little with his palms running down his face. "I guess that was my problem from the beginning though, I didn't do anything," he concluded with a terrible laugh. Poor Mai he envisioned Marik haunting her footsteps—the orichalcos draining her—and that's when Joey really started crying. She had to deal with that monster all by herself, how could I have not seen that coming? It was so obvious, he continued to mentally harass himself, I mean, come on, all those looks she gave me, how the hell did I not prevent this? All of the signs were right there in front of my face. This is all my fault, I should have known sooner. I just, I just should have…he shut his eyelids painfully.
"You can't save everyone Joey," she was looking up, trying to smile for him, but something about her had never recovered.
The blonde's face was pained; knitting his eyebrows as his lips visibly trembled. He was falling apart, and everyone could see it, but even the heartlessly superior, Seto Kaiba, let Joey be; seemingly no longer concerned with the short time they had left to embark. However, Joey also knew that their window was growing smaller, but he just couldn't let her go.
Valon went to speak up in her defense, but nothing came out when he opened his mouth, yet little did he know how crucial his silence turned out to be. Joey's eyes were painted red, but he couldn't bring himself to cry when he traced Valon's expression back to hers; they both looked into the face of death so calmly, almost peacefully. The idea of eternal slumber seemed to sparkle, even in their hollowed eyes. Despite their strengths, the look of determination in Valon was the opposite of what he'd seen in Kaiba's gaze. Joey tried hard to accept that their fates had become metaphysical; the others and himself had survived the throttle of Dartz's madness, but Mai and Valon had lived it. This wasn't anything he could experience vicariously. Isolated so deeply in this war had caused Mai to transform long before this, and she could no longer identify with the actions of man.
"I'm not going without you!" He exclaimed protectively, lifting Mai up into his chest.
She had both arms wrapped just as tightly around his neck, "I know," her face aligned softly against his. "That's why I already decided it, so that you don't have to."
Words of protest built in his chest, but she knew him all too well, silencing his pleas softly as her lips beckoned his one last time. "I love you," she ran her fingers gently along Joey's cheeks, trying to soothe his worried looks. "And if you really want what's best for me—"
"Of course I do—"
"Then let me go."
Unable to deny her, Joey closed his eyes and held her for the last time, hardly able to uncurl his fingers when she told him that it was time. At that moment, Joey thought he was going to collapse, his heart rolled over in his stomach, and he stood motionlessly as the walls around them caved in. He was a breathe away from chasing her shadow as it scintillated through the splintering light, when a strong hand fell awkwardly on his shoulder. "Come on Joey," Kaiba said quietly, turning the younger boy away. The warmth from Seto's fingers startled Joey though, as he was quick to hide his tears, but to his own astonishment, all he heard the brunette say was, "It's okay Wheeler." The compassion was short lived, but astounding at the same time as Joey found strength transferring over from Seto's stoicism. Standing in the rejuvenating rays, just a white picket fence away from the conspiring clouds, Joey felt the plastic plasma melt into warm currents, and the restraints of preposition loosen into flexible joints.
However, something inside Joey cracked that day, but didn't totally break, constantly withdrawing himself, as Mai became nothing but a memory. Although he tried hard to embody the boy he once was, something in his eyes was never the same. He was now forced to develop the understanding that Mai already discovered: once you go to hell and back, you never fully leave that place. Charred remains will gasp for oxygen, heaving just to breathe—but the flames will continue to engulf all of their strength. Elements of ourselves become lost to the void—not erased—but burned into the ashes of disappointment, realization, and ultimately sacrifice. Theses pieces of us are then left to float, indistinguishably, through the air—for our own eyes are too low, too discouraged and weak to pierce through the profuse smog that now smothered Joey's ambitions.
Burying his hands deep into his palms, his fingers dug into tuffs of blonde hair, scratching the top layer of his scalp. His radio was lulling in the background, and he could catch a few reverberations between his heaves. He tried his best to suppress the steady flow, knowing it wasn't the manly thing to do, but the tears were beyond his control. Joey's radio, likewise, did little to console him—only offering the most horrifically, untimely selections to dress his open wounds.
As the steady melody connected with his eardrums, Joey recognized the song immediately, and let out another sarcastic laugh, "Well that's just bloody perfect." The irony was god awful as the words wretched salt into his cuts, lulling Joey's mind into insanity with the lyrics of Your Ex-Lover Is Dead by Stars.
He couldn't help it, everything about the situation was horrible, and he was an absolute wreck. Joey couldn't help but continue to think that what happened to Mai was mostly his fault. Even worse yet, he abhorred even the sight of himself for never noticing after all that time. Joey was consumed with guilt; with the self-disdain that he was too busy to see that there was something wrong with her. Even though it was in the past, he couldn't let it go; no, he refused to let it go.
Joey was dancing dangerously close to the deep end, and these catastrophic new circumstances were not going to help him heal with all the horrible things lingering over the horizon.
"…Live through this, and you wont look back…It's nothing but time and a face that you lose. I chose to feel it—and you couldn't choose."
Unable to ever create the connection, Kaiba's acoustic system echoed the ending of the melody, but it had a curiously coincidental affect. Reminding Seto without warning of the things he'd been sacrificing his entire life.
"…Here's one thing I want to say, so I'll be brave…this was what I wanted. I gave what I gave….I'm not sorry it's over, I'm not sorry there's nothing to save….I'm not sorry there's nothing to save."
Sighing, Kaiba turned off the station, preferring the silence to such noise. The temporary silence, however, was interrupted with the periodic chirp of his phone across from his workstation. Curiously, Kaiba picked it up, clicking a random button to brighten the screen, but as soon as he read whom the missed call was from, he wished he hadn't. At least there isn't a voicemail, Kaiba placed his hands over his face in disquietingly, but the twisting in his stomach began to submit painfully, and his throat went dry. His fingers, although immobile, were itching to play. Three days was just too long to wait for it, and he couldn't take another mental beating. With that, Kaiba recalled the piano owner's advice: "Y'know, it's not really the most fancy place in town, but they have a piano there," the gentleman offered as he took the check. "It's part of their appeal you see, they offer live music, and often times they'll let anyone participate." The door of Kaiba's apartment slammed before the thought could even finish.
In a matter of minutes, Kaiba had entered the establishment and gained a spot within that night's line up—ordering a bourbon on the rocks to ease himself. That guy was right, normally I don't think I'd submit myself so willingly to a place as classless as this, Seto's lip pulled upward at the sight of the dirty floors, and ungodly aroma of cigarettes and alcohol. He sighed, pulling his own pack smoothly from his coat pocket, still dressed in his business formal—Guess I shouldn't be so hypocritical he sighed, flipping up the top of his zippo to singe the end of his Marlboro.
Patiently waiting for his turn to perform, Kaiba hadn't broken eye contact with the stage, he licked his lips eagerly, nearing the completion of his forth drink. However, tolerance was that of a specialty, and so Seto hardly noticed the alcohol rocking back and forth in his empty stomach as he finally heard his name, although butchered by the announcer, beckoning him forward.
The steps creaked beneath his shoes, and then gracefully filled the empty space on the black bench. His thoughts began conducting immediately as he adjusted himself.
The stammering silence echoed disbelievingly in Mokuba's voice, "…wh…what did you say?"
"I said I'm not coming home," Kaiba said forcefully, his tone falling cruel and professional. But he had no other choice than to compose himself.
Mokuba was bawling, and the tender tone twisted around in Seto's stomach. The hot tears were gushing through the phone, pooling around Kaiba's feet as his brother began to cry out hysterically, "You…you can't mean that! Why did you have to leave!" The voice cracked ever so slightly on each syllable, "Why can't you come home!" Little breathes began to hyperventilate staggered, backward and forward. "Please, please come home Seto!"
"I can't."
"But you promised!"
Finally familiarized, his long, fragile fingers filled the same spaced along the keys as they had the previous day, and the chatter of onlookers became white noise. Blind to the audience around him, the emptiness cloaked his view of reality, and Seto nestled up comfortably to the darkness. Everything, himself included, began to disappear. You'll never know how much this hurts, Kaiba could hardly admit it to himself, but I'm sorry Mokuba. His lids turned downward, and his fingers assumed position, I hope one day you can understand, and I hope one day you can forgive me. He treated the warped keys delicately, despite the fact its quality was nothing special—the song was sacred.
Joey's silhouette lingered along the lakefront, letting the rhythm of its waters rock him back and forth, leaving him in some sort of hypnosis. His hazel eyes had gone calm, and his lungs thickened with the sweet smoke of sticky THC. As the substance swallowed his central nervous system, his lids were heavy and slanted. After remembering that Sam had left him with a couple joints, Joey had gotten belligerently baked, feeding off the high. The inconsistencies in his life vanished, and everything was only perceivable in its most simple form. He did not think about the way his feet were falling, or the foreign faces passing on either side of him. Intoxicatingly entranced, the sweet sounds of a gentle instrument and the low humming of voices became magnetic, and their soft reverberations lulled him down the steps of a dimly lit, basement.
Absentmindedly, the blonde moved in motion with the song as the weed left his situational awareness completely disabled. Joey stared up bemused, but couldn't help allow an ambiguous angel to fold up in the corner of his smile. Dragging coolly on the end of his cigarette, he breathed in the sight of Seto Kaiba in a smokey, second-class music bar on the wrong side of the red carpet. This was no place for Mr. Executive, and anyone here in there right mind could see that. However, tastefully dressed in his usual attire, Seto seemed to offset the stereotype with his playing. Joey leaned back against the bar on both elbows, and watched his adversary's steady fingers glide over the keyboard with poise, producing a melody that was surprisingly pleasant to the ear. Never took him for the god damn Piano Man, Joey shook his head, growing increasingly more amused, and slightly empowered by the sight of Seto subjecting his softer side to public recognition. Guess he never expected anyone to recognize him here. However, Joey maintained a diplomatic distance through ought Kaiba's performance, unlike a certain someone, Joey actually held a degree of respect for those around him. Besides, Joey noted, he's not half bad. Never once realizing that this wasn't Japan anymore—the idea that the brunette shouldn't be there, never surfaced inside his clouded state of consciousness.
As Kaiba finished gracefully, he stood up to receive his acknowledgement from the crowd, they might not have noticed how entirely misplaced he looked in his five thousand dollar pin stripe suit, but Joey couldn't let it go. Staring down Seto as he took his subtle bow, he assessed Kaiba's cool exterior, dressed to impress, his suit perfectly pressed, his jacket draped tastefully over his shoulder, and a silk black tie hanging a tad bit too loose for Seto Kaiba's usual stance, but that same prominent mixture of cologne and professionalism sifting through the smoke. He looked almost calm, but Joey couldn't help but mix things up just a little, letting out a sharp, distinctive whistle from the back of the room that caused Kaiba's ears to perk up defensively, as his eyes darted immediately to its source. Locking eyes with Joey, his posture tightened and his eyes pierced, politely, yet forcefully, cutting through the various tables and bystanders that separated him from the blonde.
Joey took a calm swig of his drink, bending his body upward as Kaiba approached, "Isn't this a little out of your style?" He grinned, a trailing hint of sarcasm lingered in the air, yet Joey had not intended to hit such a fragile nerve.
The crowd around them had already either directed their attention to the next performer, or had been to drunk to take a particular interest, so they hardly noticed as Kaiba wrapped his fingers forcefully around Joey's wrist, clamping the other vehemently over the boy's mouth as he pushed him towards an even more dimly lit corner out of sight. Joey resisted modestly with both wrists folding around Kaiba's arms, but it was no use as the CEO towered over him, pressing Joey's back hard against the wall. "What the fuck are you doing here," he hissed closely on the side of Joey's face; who felt his own heart rate accelerate as Kaiba's breathing collided against in his ear in a soft, yet forceful whisper.
-.-.-.-.-.-
OKAY, so finally those two have noticed each other! IN AMERICA. Sorry, for those of you who watch the abridged series-I couldn't resist. Anyways, I was originally going to use that piano-bar scene later, but I just couldn't help it because I love the tension. Also, for those of you who are like, "how the eff does Joey not notice how unusual it is to see Kaiba," I was trying to make it seem like the weed offset his ability to do so. (even though as a veteran smoker, even I know it usually doesn't disable someone THAT much—but when you haven't smoked for awhile, you'd be surprised at how intensely it can alter your reaction time!) I was also pretty proud of myself for incorporating more of Seto's p.o.v—as I've failed to do so previously.
Please, please, pretty please review too :D I know that I've dragged this on, and I know Joey has spent his time in the company of females lately, but it was all to build up towards this moment. After this, everything is going to change.
Plus, just some food for thought, if you think all my descriptive imagery is boring or off-putting—just think about how descriptive their more personal scenes are going to be. ;)