●(¯`·._.»⋮⋠∀𝓵𝕓ªȶoꜱƨ.ⱥⅆƌÍℂṯℹøℕ⒮⋡⋮«._.·´¯)●

back from the dead⋯for better or worse⋯

●(¯`·._(_.·´¯`·._.».«._.·´¯`·._)_.·´¯)●

So, I realize it's been quite awhile since I've updated this story, and by quite awhile I mean...scratch that, noooot actually as long ago as I thought when I initially began to write this little tidbit two seconds ago before going back to double check when precisely the last update was. Discovering much to both my surprise and slight disturbance that it was it was in 2015 hah OKAY, so I guess it's only been a couple months. But to me it still feels like the fic's being resurrected, probably because all my other fic's have been in like a three year flux of attempting to perfect updates and finish the drafts upon drafts upon drafts I've chopped and screwed and lost TOTAL sight of which is which, or which is better, or whether ANY of them are worthy of claiming completion. (sigh)

WOWWW, OR BECAUSE I'M AN IDIOT AND IT HAS BEEN YEARS SINCE I've updated; good, good, GOOD, I must've just edited something misc. like typos or what not earlier this year, considering the last reviews I got are back from 2012, making it quiiiite impossible to belong to a chapter posted three years after the fact. (sigh) I really wish I wasn't so scatterbrained sometimes, so yeah, guess I feel like it's being resurrected because it IS, and I'm not actually crazy, considering it's been a good ehh, yknow FOUR WHOLE YEARS since I've even TOUCHED the 'publish/add chapter' option for this story. Hah, I KNEW there was no way I'd updated it so recently since I've been working on this stupid chapter for like 500 years. But I just hit a total and irritatingly impassible road block of writer's-go-fuck-yourself-syndrome as well as HERE'S REALITY HITTING YOU IN THE FACE. Hence my disappearing act.

That and my computers keep breaking and I've been forced to harvest hard drives and mourn the inevitable loss of files, NATURALLY, all the ones I KNEW were imperative for said writing. THIS particular chapter being one of them; I'd had the WHOLE first half written, and was so hung up these past few however many months on the fact I KNEW I'd updated and tweaked the dialogue I'd begun forever and a day ago, and that I KNEW there were certain lines I kept thinking, "oh hell yeah, likin' that shxt," but of course, could no longer recall what any of them were (sigh).

Doesn't help either that I somewhat realized too little too late that I totally screwed parts of my plot progression by deciding I'd rather jump so far into borderline crack-fic territory that I forgot how contradictory/potentially conflicting it meshed with whatever else I've had mapped out. Buuut, let's face it, it was just too much fun and I couldn't help myself. Also not helping the fact that Chapter Fourteen wasn't exactly finished when I posted it in the first place, I'd just really wanted to post something. hah.

So, with that in mind, consider chapter fifteen an extension of the previous, I was going to just slap "ctnd. or part two on it," but for whatever reason didn't like formatting it that way? Idk, I'm just a tweak who overthinks things still lol. ANYWAYS. Yeah, this chapter literally picks back up directly after the last line of dialogue from chapter fourteen, and is a continuation of that conversation, so maybe browse back over the last few sentences or such if you don't remember them very well. Hah, GOOOOD, cause, y'know, it was really necessary for me to remind everyone how to refresh their own memories (sigh) *accompanied by discouraged head shaking*, just even more confirmation I really, REALLY need to learn to sleep more.

Other than that, I guess all I have to say is I'm still segueing in and out of super sassy and serious as far as plot points and dialogue in attempts to steer my story back towards its original course so my years upon years of prewritten scenes don't go to complete and total waste; but, over all, I think I reworked it the best I could, albeit my grammar has admittedly suffered more so in terms of skill, and I'm still a sucker for the occasional run on sentence...or twelve...but aside from that I think you'll find the update to live up to the previous instillations.

Anddd hopefully still find it enjoyable, that is if any of my readers are still alive. God knows I love you all enough for having ever read and taken an interest in this story to begin with, but I know is essentially a ghost town, and I'm the absolute worst about punctuality when it comes to posting, so I have absolutely NO idea if anybody still checks, remembers, or gives a hoot about this fic anymore. But I still love it, so I'll continue to update regardless whenever I get the inspiration and the chance.

If anybody cares to seek me out on A03, I'm actually in the middle of revamping the entirety of Albatross Additions, as well as another of my fics, and reposing them with certain alterations and corrections. However, this was all fairly recently, and I'm still only up to about chapter 8 for this story in terms of editing and submitting. If you're interest though, my user name over there is:

H0LYxSHiP

Annnnd onto those reviews of reviews; of which I presently have two.

(Look't them mad rhymin' skillz!) *Ahem, good god, so sorry I'm always like this lol*

no. safe .exit: well, GOSH DARN IT, after re-reading your review, don't I feel like a total jackass, haha considering EVERYTHING you complimented me on I've failed to fulfill for FOUR YEARS. haha DEFINITELY feeling soooo much more pressure about living up to those expectations with this next addition now. sjdfnjd BUT haha, in retrospect, regardless of how late I'm getting to write back to you, I'm SO glad you got so much satisfaction from that last chapter, it was honestly one of my more favored ones, AND YES, THE POPPING CHERRIES LINE! hah was def. super proud of that one. I def. just have SO much fxcking fun twisting those two into my crack-esque, witty banter back and forths-my sister did always tell me I had a knack for dialogue, so it's awesome to see that coming from someone else-lol and speaking of my sister, it's funny you mentioned the detail to Seto's physique because she also was like, "MORGAN, JESUS CHRIST, I LITERALLY HAD TO GO BACK AND PHYSICALLY RE-READ THAT PART JUST TO TAKE IT IN!" (b/c her and I typically read our stories aloud to each other b4 posting them). Lol and even funnier still, because if perchance that physique had anything to do with the first part where he's asleep, because I deeeefinitely just stole the position I actually always sleep/slash wake up in for reference...albeit I don't have the butterfly dimples...not now...and not when I was super thin either...lucky bastards with back dimples haha. Anyways, so irrelevant, sorry about that.

And oh god, you called me brilliant, as I'm simultaneously overcome with smiles and the impending guilt as you follow with a 'thank you so much for keeping up with updates,' and I'm staring mouth agape, cigarette drooping with the downward angle of horror, just hanging there while smoke scatters about and I stare at my screen thinking, "I...am...the...worst...person...who...ever...lived..." I swear my heart breaks a little every time I go on these year(s) long lapses and then I see comments like this, so a thousand and one apologies for repaying your super nice review with a big unintentional four-year-fuck-you of never updating again lol. But, honestly, I'm really by no means brilliant, just a crazy, bipolar, english major tweak-a-holic who occasionally manages to put my ideas into words people actually enjoy. I've definitely always been a writer at heart, and it's admittedly my primary and only true skill in life besides talking forever, but I'm still taken by complete and total surprise when people actually end up liking it. Probably, again, cause I'm just a rambling allegorical loon who loves symbolism, sassy shipping, wax poetic writing, and sarcastic fxcks for characters.

And sadly, I don't have any idea how I do it either, bahah, I think I spent the last four years trying to figure that back out myself, so if you're still out there in the collective pool..hah, who am I kidding, HANDFUL (lol no one reads this fic) of people who liked/reviewed this fic, I sincerely hope these next two chapters I'm about to post don't come as a disappointment. There's definitely nothing more agonizing than competing with one's past self, lol, especially in terms of writing, at least I find. BUUUT this is 800 paragraphs long, so I'll cut myself off right about here. Thank you so much for that review though! Four years too late in responding, but I sincerely do appreciate it, and the things you said :)

PunPunMatt: OKAY; well, lol in lieu of the fact that I've officially written 100 paragraphs of author notes, a 100 paragraphs to the review above this, AND probably somewhere close to 10,000 paragraphs to you separately over the scattered course of these past few years in regards to your brilliantly long, beautifully happy making, STILL TO THIS DAY AMAZING AS FXCK review, I'm going to restrain myself from rewriting another novel long explanation of how insanely happy it made and continues to make me every time I happen to see or read it. So, for what's probably the MILLIONTH time, thank you so much for that, as well as your more so recent message reply, AND also for the fact that you're definitely the person who inspired me to start revamping and taking the time to put this fic up on A03-not that I can say it's exactly been a big hit haha-but it's been a tremendous help in terms of getting me back into this story specifically, as well as into the flow of consistently writing again. Which is huge for me, and something I'm not sure I CAN express in words how important and grateful I am for that :)

⟪Ⓒℌ◭⁋⒯ǝℝ.⓯⟫⦂ Careful What You Wish For...

"So-help-me-god," Joey breathed out heatedly, "that better have been rhetorical."

Kaiba cocked his head to the side. "Or what?"

Not helping whatsoever, the direct challenge left Joey tense and unable to deliver. Lost within insincere confidences and the unfamiliar circumstances that were framing so clearly in his face, evident defeat forming a flustered tone of annoyance as he spoke, "You suck."

"I'm not even going to touch that one," the other grinned, turning away with both hands up in surrender.

The blonde's eyebrows furrowed before catching the implication. "Oh god," he exclaimed, "you're awful, you know that?"

Slightly slanted baby blue eyes glanced back mischievously, "I may know a thing or two about it," he smiled.

Joey's head shook in response, rearranging his features into a tipping balance of awe and disbelief. "Who are you?"

"I already told you, Wheeler," Kaiba drew a cigarette between his lips before continuing towards the doorway, "not who you think I am."

Following at his heals, hazel eyes wrapped around every word, unable to stop something in them from starting to change.

"And how do you know what I think of you?"

The brunette withdrew the extinguishing lighter, glancing up from what he was doing with a half smile that seemed sad somehow. "That's easy," his usually steady vocals faltered, "not much."

"Well, it's just...you say stuff like that to me by default. How come you always automatically assume the worst?"

"It's what I know. It's who you are."

Joey bit his tongue, suddenly embarrassed by the realization that he'd genuinely hurt the other boy's feelings. "Well," he began, feeling shy and slightly childish. "I guess I just didn't know any better."

"Oh, and after a few days, suddenly you're an expert?"

The blonde absorbed the rattle of the brunette's biting sarcasm returning as was only natural. "No, I never said that," he replied calmly, stomaching all the comebacks and potential slights, "but I am learning a lot," then a hesitant pause, "and I've never thought more differently."

"Then perhaps I was also mistaken," Kaiba extended two fingers toward his cigarette, exhaling thoughtfully; unable to deny the unimaginable success of the other's efforts, but not quite ready to abandon his deflective demeanor just yet, "maybe you really can teach an old dog new tricks."

"So, you make mistakes now, huh?" Joey pulled his lips into a smirk. An initial scowl surfacing across from him, but the blonde's victorious tone was somehow subduing as he diffused the tensing of a well stomached insult with nothing more than a sing-song stringing along of three seemingly meaningless words, "Fact Number Five."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"How could I forget something?" he asked confusedly. "It's a list."

"Well, lists are numerical," the brunette rationalized, "and last time I checked, four comes before five."

"Yeah, I know how to count," Joey rolled his eyes, retorting evenly, "I can read well above the 4th grade level too, incase you were wondering."

The CEO ignored him. "What was it then?"

"What was what?"

Kaiba sighed agitatedly at having to repeat himself. "Number Four," he emphasized, "I remember one through three, but I don't believe you ever broadcasted the fourth."

"Oh, that..." Joey flushed ever so slightly, synchronously with those feelings of shyness deepening before they finally dissolved, dematerializing in the empty stomach of alcohol that his second thoughts insisted on being swallowed into, "...It was your name."

"My name?"

"That's what I said," Joey rocked back on his heals, almost too nervous to repeat the simple word itself as his feet segued into a self-conscious shuffle,"...you do remember telling me, right?"

Blue eyes closed, concealing any specific emotion, "Yeah, I remember."

The blonde assessed the smoke rings appearing from the steady features no longer facing him, eyes closed and even toned as always, not about to elaborate willingly; but Joey had known as much when he'd brought it up, trying to gauge The Modified Seto Scale in order to determine the potential damage of inquiring any further, well aware he was treading in volatile territory. Such a sensitive subject may as well have been a suicide mission a month or two ago, and even now, it wasn't completely clear whether or not the severity of the repercussions remained, making him exponentially more apprehensive. One false slip of the tongue and he could ruin everything—or at the very least, evoke a storm of ensuing unpleasantries.

"It's alright," Kaiba uncharacteristically offered intuitive understanding in the form of unfamiliarly reassuring words, "I don't regret telling you if that's what you're worrying about." Unsure of whether or not the true extent of such a bold statement would actually hold out against any future prying, context and countermeasure intermingling, still much too early to try telling the two of them apart.

A sigh of relief filled the air—providing all the evidence the other needed to confirm that Joey had literally been holding his breath. "Yeah, actually," the blonde reaffirmed, "something like that."

"Oh?" an inquiry surfaced, one eye opening in amusement, "I didn't know that you were so afraid to displease me."

Joey scowled, "Don't flatter yourself."

"What then? Just practicing your deep breathing exercises, I presume?"

"Leave it to you not to overlook something like that," he submitted sheepishly, "even with your eyes closed, not much gets past you, does it?"

"Well, for starters, sighs are audible," the elder dismissed, "so sight is sort of irrelevant."

Growing slightly irritated, Joey didn't go out of his way to provoke the playful undertone this time around. Instead, discouraged by the deflecting that continued to distance them, his tone went flat, "I was only trying to say that you're extremely observant," he glanced down, pulling at the fabric that was way past the point of fitting, neckline restlessly stretching to reveal more of his shoulder than before, "that's all."

"Yes," Kaiba agreed, aware of the ensuing disheartenment across from him, "I'm very observant."

"You don't have to patronize me either," Joey responded, deciding to substitute more words with a cigarette instead, snatching the lighter from Kaiba's hand in a fell, defiant swoop, "I'm not a child, don't be so quick to condescend whenever it suits you. "

Or at least that's the sort of thing he'd had in mind, but something about being around the other boy always made him ramble, this incessant need to have the last word that resulted in his hand falling short. Fingers forty degrees from forming a fist full of hot air rather than the smooth plastic body of the flammable, fluid filled oblong he'd been aiming for that left him on edge, the sensation of superior reflexes wrapping around his wrist startling him, suddenly the only thing he could feel.

The only surefire silhouette amidst the wavering certainty of a few others that wasn't nearly as settling as it was undeniably sound, so quick and catlike he couldn't comprehend how the other managed to outmaneuver him so effortlessly. Not that it should have come as that big of a shock, I mean, this was still Kaiba after all. Face morphing more adversarially than before when both the failed attempt and the unexpected contact equipoised then unbalanced; stomach knotting as he immediately tried to retract from the slender fingers that held him more delicately than he would have liked them to, but found that the action was met with further renunciation, rearing its head unproductively as the opposing force rejected the notion of retreat.

"Not so fast," the brunette contravened, subduing the other with the same unreadable absence of anger as before, pulling himself forward rather than Joey back, as not to inflict anymore physical damage, ever too aware of the crescent shaped scars beneath his palm to be so reckless.

Each risen centimeter of assaulted skin already seeming to wax and wane beneath the current weight. The brief phases of such unpleasant symmetries expanding and contracting against what was only real enough. Neither substantial nor insubstantial enough to dispel the ongoing sequence, the touch and go footage of a scene that, likewise, flickered: on and off, but otherwise endlessly. So faint, but never far from memory, it was the least he could do, softening the force of something so god awful and heavy.

The sentiment of such a complex gesture was lost to Joey though, who instinctually altered his stance to expect the worst, expression contorting unfavorably to find the proper face in sight of such unpredictable proximity. Quite contrary in comparison to his prior realizations, no longer room for reserving any benefit over what he had little doubt, free hand flexing at his side. Inner extemporization all but literally propelling it forward to the front of the executive's shirt.

Forming a stationary fist in place of what he considered brash, this was as close a compromise in Joey's eyes as it was an enactable countermeasure, just barely able to constrain himself.

"Listen," he incited, in his most civil tone of voice, cigarette moving awkwardly between his lips as he spoke, "what's the big—" voice unexpectedly hindered by the sight of fire flickering against the motion of his Marlboro, singing the tip and sending his hostility up in smoke.

"You forgot to say please," Kaiba finished calmly with a funny grin, the most unfamiliar feature of all thus far, all innocent and almost impish with his lighter still extended.

Joey just stared, inhaling in sync with the gesture, and hoping for the nicotine to stimulate some surefire response. But his eyes were far too fixated to allow his mouth to form words.

"Impatient as always I see," his smile pulled to one side almost fondly. "Honestly, was it really too much trouble to ask?" the executive pondered, in what appeared to be a joking manner, but he was standing way too close.

Releasing a thick cloud of smoke that refused to dissipate the distance, Joey was forced to breathe in the image his eyes had grown so equally fond of, the smell of cologne and cigarettes thick in his nostrils, almost asphyxiating. Warmth beginning to transfer from that able grip, that graceful, pale appendage that sent shivers up and down his spine, flashing back to the night before, terrified those piercing eyes across from him would soon unfold the unspoken truth of what he was feeling in the span of seconds.

Only they weren't piercing, they weren't even searching, just connecting, just too normal to belong to Kaiba. Even after every other new face he'd exposed to the blonde, this person across from him was by far the most foreign.

That ripple effect of rings around his pupils growing nearly nonexistent, revealing an ineffable intricacy of softer, shallower waters which temporarily dispelled the darker coloring that had always enshrouded and then suffocated them. Too involuntary to go unnoticed, and too out of character to be considered a mere flaw, there was few and far between leftover to act as ample reasons. Anything convincing enough to even begin to serve as an answer to the unimaginable question of why that remained. Very much alive and very much breathing. Ironically taking away from every sign of life reflected in the reciprocating pair until the resemblance was laughable, inverting so expertly and so openly in such a unique way that it felt more than just out of place.

It wasn't even natural.

Joey swallowed hard, dying on the inside for a second drink or another pill, for anything besides the transfixing vibrancy that seemed, in that short instance, to accept him completely. The eyes of a child, he thought softly, entirely unafraid. Uncorrupted by causation and free from expectancy, having not yet experienced the disappointment of living, of letting others in. So innocent. So unrecognizable, as if they'd reverted back to a premature state from a time that was completely out of Joey's reach, no more real to him than the figments of Mai when his mind played tricks on him. He blinked again, just to make sure, however, perhaps it was the product of his imagination after all, because the rings had all re-expanded like ripples in a pond; disrupting the fragile, glassy surface, and disfiguring the reflection of clarity. Surrendering the stillness of this inconceivable stalemate to the inevitability of motion.

"I don't bite you know," he released Joey's hand gently, eliminating the only barrier that stood between them, but holding fast, body still as close as it was a second ago, maybe even closer. Going out of his way, for the eight-hundredth ungodly unknown reason, to establish an awareness between the words the other wasn't saying and the body language that was giving it away.

Assessing the arm bent, but lifeless, that was still just a fraction from his chest where he'd released it. Long enough ago that it shouldn't have stayed within sight for a second longer than it had to, and yet had gone limp at the wrist. Wondering why Joey hadn't snapped it back into place like he so vehemently tried to in the first place, unaware of what was preventing the blonde from moving period now that he was no longer weighted. Of what could have possibly constituted this clearly ill-fitting image that so directly opposed the original picture. So strange for him to see such an animated individual rendered so unprovoked into a state of such counterintuitive and stationary silence.

Not a single glare or retaliatory strike, not even a failed attempt, just complete submission. The sort of situational abnormality that provoked Kaiba's curiosities, grasping the obviousness of the discomfort he'd caused, but to his surprise, not the reason it was instilling such disassembly to Joey's otherwise resilient defenses. His silence was one thing, and occasional awkward shifting another, but this, this was something else entirely. So he quietly wrapped his hand around the other's immobile, unformed fist and brought it back into his own without warning.

Joey barley blinked, let alone allowed his eyes to be drawn away from the metamorphosing man he was struggling to match with the proper name, wondering if this was Kaiba, or maybe Hashimoto, or just Seto. Or how many alternate personalities he even had to begin with. Or whether all three were just an illusion of a greater whole, a nameless little boy with no true identity, destined to shift in and out of someone else's skin like a hermit crab transferring shells, outgrowing his security blanket and searching elsewhere for shelter.

Whether or not even he knew the differences between them, where he'd been and where he'd gone, who he was or wasn't or was pretending to be, if such an answer really existed. If he even really existed. If he was anyone at all... Joey frowned, his train of thought saddening him in sync with the sensory awareness of knuckles bending, his own included, and resting between the corresponding spaces of those they'd folded in place.

Finally forced to look away, he watched as Kaiba's entire hand enveloped his own until it disappeared beneath skin so clear it was practically porcelain, sheltering his indecision like a protective outer casing as he slowly started to lower both Joey's literal and figurative guard. The result of which had thrust the blonde back into reality. The actuality of this awkward drawn out moment they were sharing rushing all around him in a mind fuck of motion that wasn't actually moving, heart rate accelerating and crawling up into his throat. The entire idea that Seto Kaiba was holding his hand, albeit far from in the traditional sense, throwing him off any discernible track. Not that there was anything sexual about the way the brunette was touching him, just the fact he was touching him, it was too much to process. Abdomen tightening unnaturally, trying to breathe and ease into his usual self at the same time and failing at both. More tightly wound than a ball of fresh twine. Ready and waiting to snap, physically unravel, and then submit to the senseless, shapeless, strewn about state of a million messy little miniature nooses waiting to ensnare his every step entangling beneath him.

To trip or strangle or drag him out to sea. Something horrible. Yet, somehow, all of the above being more preferable to standing there, accumulating pressure, so ready to rebound so much higher on the Richter Scale than he was mentally or physically prepared for.

Losing his shit as his rampant thoughts assessed the embrace, the length of each finger, the way they applied just enough pressure to connect like the two of them had been adjacent puzzle pieces. Thumbs diagonally overlapping like added support, as if he were actually afraid he might drop it. Taking in how unexpectedly safe it was making him feel. How fragile and delicate something so fierce and strong could react toward the same person they'd collided relentlessly with so many times in the past. Whether blows to his ego or to his body, those hands had never been anything but rough. Wishing he knew why the other was suddenly regarding him as something worthy of treating so kindly, whether or not this was really Kaiba's hand still pressed against his as the brunette casually repositioned it back at his side, and hating himself for thinking how perfectly they fit together. How once the maneuver was over and Kaiba's fingers unfolded, the touch seemed all too fleeting.

Feeling helpless and cold when he had no reason for either to consume him so readily, realizing how completely embarrassing it all was, how stupid he had to look with his stone faced staring. Almost half a cigarette of ash cascading down in uneven streams from the mouth too stupid and motionless to speak, let alone preform as simple a task as smoking. Suddenly feeling an entirely new level of mortification and idiocy altogether when it boiled down to the fact that this fucking cigarette had set this entire thing in motion and he hadn't even smoked the damn thing, just let it burn away. Not only that, but Kaiba lit the goddamn thing for him and everything. Going against every arrogant bone in his body in order to lighten the mood after Joey had undergone a similarly uncharacteristic fit, and handling the boy's hostility with nothing but the utmost kindness. The kind of thing that didn't come easily, and for all his efforts, Joey didn't even have the tact to assess the situation for all it was worth. Betraying his own attempts to forge some kind of bond when he couldn't even respond once the effort was finally being reciprocated.

You colossal fuck up, Joey cursed, closing his eyes because they'd been engaging the exit route of the other's hand retracting this whole time. Longingly too he groaned. Not ignorant enough to believe it could be overlooked by either party.

All the while, Kaiba was simply staring, mentally transcribing the transmuting properties in the blonde's ever alternating expression. The rounded, vacuous, void like eyes that followed his movements. The kind of eyes you'd see on a stray dog stuck out in the middle of the rain. So pathetic it was provoking. The way they looked so wet and reflective and worried all at once, abandoned without the faintest idea why.

Seeking refuge in every passerby. This ingrained sense of loyalty still longing for the master that disowned it to turn the corner. For the connection of an invisible leash to form and retract between the unfamiliarity and the comfort of routine necessity it had been long stripped of. No idea how to exist on its own accord and no way to speak, but still absently wagging its tail. A few inattentive, scattered thuds against concrete. Eyes so wide and willing to trust until the street lights came on and the rain didn't stop and that lonely pup laid down its head, completely drenched as if it were crying.

Fur sleek and matted, soaked to the bone and shaking, so shiny and sad it made you reconsider. Reevaluating who you were as a person, knowing now how many times you'd passed this dog in the street before and may as well kicked it. And you probably did, he flexed his jaw, such an awful taste setting in when he considered that those stray, sought after glances could shut forever, the fact that they almost did.

On that day he didn't dare speak of.

Willingly renouncing his worthiness to live, much too eager to embrace an eternity of emptiness for the chance to see her. He hated that expression on his face, the way his lashes were drooping into singular pairs, so voided and defeated that even he'd been forced to speak. Even back then. Anything but that, his stomach hurt, revitalizing the unfamiliarity of feeling when he thought selfishly of how much he'd miss seeing that color. Whether or not they went down in flames didn't matter, the idea of Joey giving up hope was like losing it altogether.

His own hand drawn to retracing their steps now, fingers tensing absently against nothing. Far more uncomfortable with the similarities between these two faces than he'd ever say in so many words. The lip turning extent of loneliness and unease in the eyes of a dog who was truly down, the scent of rain coming to life and the memory exclusively repeating in a pitter patter of dissolving dots. If I let them shut now, I'll be lost too...I swear I won't let it happen, to either of us, you don't have to sit out in the rain anymore, just come stay with me, the brunette was hyper-sensitively spewing, I have more than enough room, too much room, we'll be safe here, such an innocent idea, brought on by the rush of Serotonin and overly empathetic inability to watch anymore.

...don't you know that I can't stand it when you look at me this way? Like it's all just...pointless.

Sort of like the way Joey's eyes were closing now, as if to hide the shame of searching for something he was all too quick to decide was too stupid to try and find by himself. Extinguishing like that poor, pathetic creature, still soaking wet in an empty alleyway because it had nowhere else to go. Cold and curled up as all signs of life vanished and those same spheres went half lidded and lost, having learned absolutely nothing except that no one was ever coming back for you.

It.

No more than a metaphor, the taller boy derogated, a parable with no piety for people like him who were desperate to explain their own ill-doings without having to take responsibility for them. Easier to lessen the burden if you learned to look past the person and strip them of their personality so you didn't have to know them, needy creatures were such unnecessary liabilities after all, so demanding. Such permanent fixtures. But no longer your problem if you left behind no proof. No collar, no name; no name, nobody.

A concept Kaiba dismissed the second those stupid parallels began forming too personally in the back of his head, amphetamine salts singularly obsessed with digging so much deeper through his psyche than they were the analogous little essay of the vessel he tried so hard to project them onto. And there they went again, winning him over without his ever realizing, twisting an indirect confession of just how much of himself he really saw in Joey sometimes; but he's not a vessel, the brunette needlessly corrected, as if the wording weren't his own. Knowing deep down he'd never do something like that, to stoop so low as to use the blonde as a surrogate for his own suffering. That's just cruel he frowned, but only on the inside, the only place he breathed life back into that nightmare.

Why would I ever unbury that hell and give it legs to walk around again? he thought, feeling his own growing heavy, just so it can trample every living breathing thing and then self destruct like it's all in a day's work?

Arguing against the single stupid thought that unknowingly tied the two of them together but drew a sharper, more protective pain in his chest as he shifted his focus back to the other boy, deeply saddened. Nobody deserved to have that kind of pain sealed up inside them, especially not Wheeler his eyes wandered, somehow failing to acknowledge that his own reasoning should have included himself by logical default, but for once, logic was the least of his concerns. Or perhaps that too was just an excuse to avoid the subject matter he'd spent a lifetime trying to depersonalize; however, Joey continuously became a different story, something about his age-old adversary that formed a negative correlation, and the more he dismissed himself, the more personal everything about the other became.

Watching the way in which the color had risen in an isthmus of embarrassment, up from his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose; this thin belt of all different shades spreading systematically until the spectrums became clear to the pair of eyes so well versed in such an art, that he felt the sudden urge to wipe all the redness away. Unaware of the focus, but already approaching the epicenter the second these feelings of impending guilt washed over him. Unconcerned about the fault line he'd be stepping on, or which way it would split apart, just the fact he had to get there first, Joey's body had already begun to blindly gravitate, hesitant footfalls that inched forward only far enough to fall back. But it wouldn't take long before he stubbornly threw himself into full speed Kaiba decided; after all, it was so like him to detonate his own explosion, such a fool, the brunette grinned, the shockwaves were always meant for me, so for once let me take them.

Unaware Kaiba, of all people, had anything ulterior up his sleeve, all Joey could do was wait, opening his eyes long enough to engage the half dead Marlboro Menthol that had finally ceased to burn, going all black and stiff at the tip. Filling his nostrils with that stale, unpleasant stench that half smoked cigarettes were infamous for, and clicking the wheel of his own lighter he'd felt foolish about after finding in the folded up pair of jeans that had been right next to him, sticking out of the back pocket this whole time.

Restlessly relighting the fowl creation that tasted even worse than it smelled upon the first drag. Setting the uneven ratio of paper into a momentary burst of flames that licked upwards at his face before he'd blown it back to its rightful form, having greedily engulfed the petrified ash and instinctively found it's way to the fresh tobacco buried vulnerably beneath. Savoring that first burst of full flavored chemical cancer to caress his tastebuds, whichever hadn't died from repetitive exposure, exhaling smooth and steady like the Marlboro Man plastered on every billboard from here to Japan. Projecting his unsteady stance onto that of significant experience to appear as appealing and refined as he wasn't. All the while attributing too much attention to detail towards an insignificant process so familiar to smokers that it was practically second nature, and certainly nothing requiring an instructional play by play. But he'd of gladly gone into great detail about every last drag than dare to look at a single feature on the other's face.

So instead, he waited with eyes cleverly avoided, redirecting the contact to a stain on the carpet, a stark contrast of red against the otherwise pristine ivory coloring. Like one big blood splatter that had soaked into the fine silk of an upperclass crime scene. Eternal proof of an internal struggle, a stain that would never come out, having bled so heavily that it could be neither concealed nor washed away. And Joey wondered what could possibly have caused Kaiba to be so careless as to leave behind such condemning evidence.

The imagery of the other in full, feral loss of control causing an uneasy feeling to sweep over him, and although, obviously Joey knew that it wasn't actually blood that he was looking at, he wasn't, on the other hand, completely convinced he wasn't the next victim. Of some impending outbreak bound to happen sooner or later, his thoughts no longer a comfort, just a failed attempt to distract from the otherwise foreboding silence flooding the room by leave of their mutual invitation to entertain it. Having gone so quiet that even their breathing was no longer audible, and the blonde was struggling to find any semblance of amusement in this parlor trick. This overpowering entity without physical form that somehow had strength enough to both stop and stir all the oxygen that danced down, but never back out their throats, as if they'd swallowed the silence itself, and then the silence had swallowed them. And the feeling was all too hauntingly familiar, adorning the interior like good little sculptures, the sensation of turning to stone, sorcery, he shivered, black magic, such things were far from fairytales, both in namesake and proximal distance.

Fairy tales were in a land far, far away—recipes for Happily Ever Afters and well calligraphic, golden inlayed The Ends—but nightmares were the inextricable procreators of each and every seemingly harmless blank space between sweet syllables and chivalrous chapters, whimsical words and terrifically intricate title pages, the small print of publishing rights and even the alternating black and opaque slivers of bar code scanners. Neither leather bound nor format based—nor confined to kissing frogs and saving damsels that, albeit distressed, never really undressed for their socially inferior savors—but leaping off the pages instead, twisting through the cracks to create an invisible cage, crisscrossing under the cover of your very eyes and crawling up your fingertips, clawing at your corneas. They had the ever after, but 'happily' quite impossible to manage, the same way they all began upon a time, but once was even more laughable than the notion of happily, fear was forever, and he was feeling far too much of it to brush off this ominous feeling seething in an empty space in his chest.

The cooling properties of crystallized alcohol and mentholated cigarettes soothing sore throats that were so unused to soundlessness over shouting that their tongues had loosened effortlessly in three days time; but something in the air was growing cold and constricting, as if meant to symbolize wishes having been spent. The crude birthmark of scarlet besmirching the carpet but still missing a body, a bad omen if he'd ever seen one; and the nightmare of the Never Never Land they'd flown to the night before nothing but make believe, their faces blank and reflective panes of glass, the silence that slowly sang: Mirror, Mirror short and tall, who will pull the trigger, and who will be the one to fall? Anxious thoughts all twisting together in the warped sensation of forewarning he could not understand having siphoned from scatterbrained, sidetracked seconds of unintelligent thoughts that sought distraction, not direction, these intricacies something more compatibly set to Kaiba's intellectual speed than his own; and yet the brunette didn't seem to share the gut wrenching, instinctual calm that only came when accompanied by an immeasurable storm.

Can you really not feel it? Like metaphorical bloodlust, it was potent and stifling, and he couldn't conceive how the man who caught everything, hadn't caught the scent; or maybe it's just me, maybe I really am going crazy, he shook his head.

How the day had gone from great to this, he'd never know, but it was unbearable, restricting, like being thrown in the pound or purgatory. Or pushed from the precipice of a very real panic attack he could detect beneath his breast. Like the oncoming assault from an opponent when you'd used up all your trap cards, or the instance on the airship when the Winged Dragon of Ra released its final fury, the chemical reaction was inevitable. It had only been about four minutes since he'd first looked away, another six if you counted all that transpired before that, but Joey felt like the scene had been set to permanent repeat for weeks already, trapped like a caged animal. Basic biology interjecting in place of theories when faced with the prospect of mortal threat and preemptively thwarted expectations of walking out alive, there was little and less he could do to prevent the involuntary.

Narrowing down the necessary neurotransmitters, his brain began emitting endless surges of Epinephrine, accelerating his heart rate like an adrenaline junkie strung out on speed, and the visualization alone was enough to hasten the onset of symptoms; hand creeping up towards his chest before veering towards his left arm to ensure it hadn't gone numb. However, trying to settle himself, he ceased the habitually ritualistic motions, knowing they only ever increased the likelihood of full blown manifestation. Forced instead to meet the person he'd been most nervous to face, lighting the same cigarette a second time, or maybe the third, as he took a heavy drag to mentally prepare before changing his mind. God only knows it'd been jumping subjects like Duke Devlin jumped bones, the smilie certainly not one that smiled upon him, bracing himself irrationally as if he were going into battle, mind shifting nervously beneath the motions of his cigarette.

Little did he know, Kaiba had already changed it for him, precisely four minutes and three footsteps ago, so singularly focused and so fucking distracted that in all that time he'd failed to see any farther than his own face, let alone the future. The distance closed long before he'd even thought to brave the space, practically standing chest to chest, quite literally breathing the same air. Calm heated spurts colliding in disproportional releases of control and a lack there of, commingling and so intimidating he thought he might be swallowed. Melting together as broad shoulders brought the battle within centimeters of certain slaughter, but Joey couldn't for the life of him figure out what the hell Kaiba was smiling for; anxiety beginning to dissipate amidst the confusion of the brunette's fingers brushing up against him, index and middle finger parted just enough to pull the cigarette from between his lips.

"Y'know," Kaiba casually dragged the commandeered menthol, teasing as he blew a perfect smoke ring against the other's mouth with a wry, seducing smile. "If you wanted me to hold your hand that badly, you should have just asked."

"As if," he snatched back the cigarette, defensively shuffling the brunette away.

"Oh," the other sighed, "is that so," turning his hand this way and that overhead, assessing the spaces between his fingers as he feigned despondency with that sly, suave, sheer lack of effort that suited him so well. "And all this time I really thought I was onto something."

"Yeah, your ego maybe," Joey contravened, head snapping from full view—blushing, breathless, and buried beneath the pressure of previous avoidance building in his throat. "Seriously, dude, get over yourself," he shook his head, sucking harshly on the nearly shapeless filter, "I mean why would you even…"

Kaiba's pointer finger interjected, "Uh, that's all filter by the way."

"I KNOW THAT," Joey shouted, throwing it to the ground without thinking, adding arson to list of crimes against the carpet. "What I don't get is why you'd possibly think that, let alone ask," he fumed, "AND with a straight face to boot!"

Bending down to retrieve the partially burning butt from the floor, lips pursed in slight displeasure before straightening out and brushing off his pants, "And what kind of face should I have worn then?" he asked amusedly.

"Oh, I don't know," the blonde gestured sarcastically with both hands, head titled to the side, "maybe cold, detached asshole who'd never ask in the first place, or superiority complex CEO who couldn't be bothered to ask such stupid questions." Voice escalating with each additional insult he didn't realize were taken too far out of context. "OH," he exclaimed, fist hitting his open palm, "What about dismissive-don't-give-a-shit-if-you-die-duelist? Haven't seen him in awhile, and I know he wouldn't ask something like that, not even over his dead, day ripe corpse of a body."

"Wow," widening blue eyes stared back bewilderedly, hands colliding in a genuinely startled sort of slow clap, "Impressive, you've certainly put a lot of thought into this, haven't you," he stated, "to be honest, I'm flattered," hands formfitting against his hips in thought, "this is fa-r more serious than I first expected."

"Wha...no…you don't…that's not what I meant, okay," Joey emphasized angrily, "stop being such an asshole, Kaiba," sputtering directionless and out of breath, doubly offset by how calmly the other had absorbed the far from unspecific slights that even he'd regretted the minute his mouth stopped moving.

"Then what exactly did you mean? Please, do tell."

"I can't mean anything until you answer my question."

"But you never asked me a question."

"Ah—" Joey's mouth stopped mid-motion, eyes staring overhead as if to scroll back through the conversation. "Yeah, no, because…"

Kaiba interjected like he'd been reading his thoughts, "You told me you didn't understand what made me think that or why I'd even ask. But those were statements. Not questions. Punctuation. Big difference."

"Ugh," fingers furrowed through blonde hair, "No, no, wait, that's only cause you cut me off right before that," he rebutted, "right after I told you to get over yourself, I said…"

"Oh, you meant that," the brunette nodded, "You said, and I quote," he cleared his throat, "'I mean why would you even…'"

"Exactly! Cause, y'know, usually, stringing the words 'why would you' together implies that I'm trying to ask WHY WOULD YOU do something."

"Yeahhh," Kaiba folded his face in thought, "but 'Why would you even' isn't a question either, it's a fragment. An incomplete fragment. And fragments aren't sentences. And sentences have punctuation. So, no punctuation, means no question."

Beginning to roll up his sleeves, Joey's face was a whole new shade of red, "I swear to god I'm literally about to kill you," he approached the brunette with a crazed look, cracking his knuckles.

Sighing dramatically, Kaiba surrendered with a simple gesture, "Fine, fine, go ahead, ask again."

Pausing momentarily, Joey waited to make sure there were no tricks involved this time, shuffling his feet, slightly shyly, embarrassed by how many times he was forced to vocalize it, "I wanted to know why you would even ask that, and after everything else you said, why you'd ever think that," he concluded, purposely omitting choice words like wanted and so badly. "Oh, wait," he rose a condescending finger, "insert question mark. Punctuation. Happy?"

"Very," Kaiba nodded, lips upturning, simply shrugging, "That's easy though," he grinned, handsome features encircling him with an increasingly devilish charm, "you were only staring from the second I let go. So, naturally, I assumed that it was possible you didn't actually want me to stop."

Such an honest answer threw Joey off balance, a more innocent coloring creeping into his features because it was the truth. "Well of course I stared, I mean, you held my hand," he emphasized, "and then wouldn't let it go!"

"Well, obviously," brows began to furrow, "you were trying to steal my lighter," the brunette stressed, "it's my favorite lighter," dead serious, "so, drastic times…"

"Call for handholding?" Joey finished for him.

"Wrist grip," Kaiba corrected.

"And, so, the second time was, what? Joint prayer hands?"

"Hmm, I was going to say cupping, but I like yours way better."

"How sanctimonious of you," Joey rolled his eyes, growing suddenly sick of this run around, such a pitiful excuse for a conversation that left him both embarrassed and completely in conflict with the very real emotional shifting that was now the butt of a running joke, and one that he wasn't finding very funny. Quite the opposite, discouraged by the fact the jests weren't technically too far off from the truth, not that he'd ever admit that aloud, not willingly at least, not when even he wasn't entirely sure what any of it really meant. If it meant. I mean, it wasn't like a romantic pining, certainly not the way Seto felt compelled to exaggerate, at least; but at the same time, if that were entirely true, then why was he getting upset when he knew he should be laughing? Shutting down and sulking when he should be happy the other was opening up the way he'd wanted him to? The whole objective in the first place, and the fact it was going even better than he never thought could happen throwing a wicked curve, or a double edged sword, he didn't know, he'd never been good with phrases, they tended to turn to paragraphs that branched out in all directions like limbs on a tree that's trunk had caved in.

Maybe I'm just angry for ruining our earlier conversation, eyes rewinding to the first and only time anything substantial had been submitted and acknowledged in conversation between them. Well, maybe not the first and only, but the first and only thing that important, that personal. That perfect opportunity I completely botched. I mean, we're talking about his name, his real name, something no one else besides Mokuba knows that he decided to tell me, ME of ALL people, out of aaanyyyyone else in the entiiiire world, Joey sighed, deep and dejectedly, and what did I do? Shut down the whole conversation because clearly I can dish out a hell of a lot more than I can take.

Turns out he was right, I am an idiot, unexpectedly interrupted by the repetitive jabbing of a fresh cigarette against his face, Joey looked up to where Kaiba was incessantly trying to get his attention, persisting until the blonde's face went flat, obediently opening his mouth so the other could complete his peace offering, sliding the cigarette between the right side.

"If you think a cigarette is going to be enough make up for all this," Joey gestured in a circular motion, as if to emphasize something so much more colossal, "then you really suck at reading people."

"C'mon," Kaiba ignored him, taking his hand, "let's go for a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah, that's what you're supposed to do with dogs, right?"

"Shut up," Joey tried to suppress the surfacing grin.

"Let's go," the brunette tipped his head towards the door.

"But...these clothes," he stared.

"—look good on you," Kaiba finished for him, waving away such unnecessary self conscious notions.

"Good!? More like Good god, look-who-just-got-loose-from-the-homeless-shelter!" he flailed about.

"I'll have you know you're wearing at least seven hundred dollars, don't insult me."

"Se...seven hundred dollars," Joey pulled out the ill-fitting items, "you spent seven hundred dollars on two articles of clothing!? That's more than my entire wardrobe!"

"And the belt makes three," the brunette extended his arm, smacking the sensitive stomach muscles that hadn't been braced for impact, deflating as the blonde folded over slightly.

Half due to the wince of pain, half due to the fact the range of contact came unfathomably close to his hips, eyes having gone wider once he'd drawn his final conclusion. "You're crazy!" he exclaimed, pertaining to both the prices and the posturing, "batshit crazy."

"And you're confused," the elder sighed, "when I said let's go for a walk, it was a command, not a request," he looked back, smiling almost cruelly, Adderall effortlessly accelerating his capacity for immature, come-hither banter. "Punctuation, remember? Now let's go already."

"How much more did you drink while I was changing?"

"Drink?" he thought amusedly to his prescription, "only a sip," of instant release, "but we'll have plenty of time for that when we get back."

Staring upward, the smaller boy's features pleaded helplessly with some higher power, "He's trying to kill me."

"You'd be dead already. Now quit stalling. Don't make me say it again."

"Yeah, yeah," Joey grumbled, "Walk. We're Going. No Free Will. I get it, I get it."

».«

Self consciously glancing around, back and forth, Joey lifted their conjoined hands that the other hadn't shown any sign of disconnecting as he dragged the blonde out the door, down the stairs, and along a narrow, winding pathway enshrouded in an awning of molting treetops. "Is this really necessary?" he asked once again, hands elevated in obvious inference.

"Why? Are you seriously that shy?"

"It's not a question of shyness," Joey rationalized, "it's just…it's weird."

"How come?"

"I don't know Socrates," the blonde shot him a look, "why don't you try answering this one."

Seto grinned, "You're embarrassed."

"Of course I'm embarrassed, you're holding my hand," he stressed.

"And last night I slept in your bed."

Joey felt his heart pound, spinning around, "Shh," he hissed, pressing his hand firmly over Kaiba's mouth.

"Whh-t," the brunette spoke against him.

Shaking his head, Joey's hand retracted, "Just keep your voice down, would you?"

Instead he began shouting.

"HEY, EVERYONE. GET THIS, LAST NIGHT I SLEPT…"

All the color drained from the smaller boy's face, frantically failing his second attempt to silence the other as Seto sped up into a sprint, using his free hand to ward off Joey's clasp of death.

"…IN THE SAME BED…"

"Shut UP," Joey pleaded.

"…RIGHT NEXT TO, THIS GUY!"

"SETO!" the other exclaimed in an almost parental reprimand.

"See, look," Kaiba concluded, "nobody cares."

"My, my, well don't you two make a cute couple."

Both boys fell into a deep, deadlocked silence as a third voice chimed in.

"Seriously, you guys are totally cute," Sam appeared out of no where, "I really had no idea you'd gotten so close, sleeping together already? You sure do move fast, Japan, that's less than 24 hours," she grinned mischievously towards Joey. "But I totally called it."

And this time even Kaiba took on the slightest color.

"Well, she did call it," he agreed uncooperatively, sending Joey into a fit.

"Heh, no, you've got it all wrong," he tried to protest, but Sam simply pulled her thumb and forefinger across her lips.

"Don't worry, I can keep a secret."

Joey's features fell, along with his entire upper body, which had gone concave and slumped forward, elbowing the brunette harshly between the ribs, "Nice going big mouth," he mumbled accusatorially, finally breaking free from the other's grip, "just look at the mess you've made now."

"Maybe," Kaiba nodded his head in acknowledgment.

"Why'd ya have to do this to me," the blonde groaned loudly.

Leaning over until his face aligned alongside Joey's, Kaiba whispered quietly, "Well, you're not anxious anymore, are you?"

Earning an immediate and authentic gleam from the younger duelist, expression caught somewhere between awe and understanding, all the other's motives falling more clearly into place. Smiling softly to himself, he was just trying to take my mind off everything, he shook his head, feeling stupid but grateful, and just a little smitten. Sighing as he stole another side glance at the brunette, who now walked side by side but separately from him, seriously, why weren't you always like this?

Alright, well, it was definitely wordy at times, but I did consciously try and balance it out with dialouge because I know full well that sometimes my descriptive portions can be quite a bit to chew in one sitting. Overall, I'm a tad bit nervous since I haven't posted in so long, so I hope anyone who happens back upon this story that you'll still be able to enjoy the four years later version as much as the previous chapters before :) And, shameless as always, I legit appreciate the literal living hell out of all your reviews and continued support, so, naturally, if anyone DOES ever read this, I'd welcome them gladly :) teehee.