Title: Break
Theme: 91 – Failure
Summary: Perhaps Joey would punch him again. He deserved it. Maybe it would bring back some feeling.
Rating: K
Genre: Angst

It wasn't the loneliness that really did him in. Though it did feel colder without Yugi around, like a part of his soul had been ripped away (and it really had, if he thought about it) and left a wide, gaping hole – Yami could handle that. It was a feeling he'd hoped he wouldn't have to experience again, not since the Puzzle connected the two of them – but he'd had three thousand years to feel lonely. He was used to it. He could handle it.

It wasn't even the guilt. Of course he felt bad. Of course he knew he would deserve it when Ammut swallowed his soul when he passed onto the next world. Hell, it's what he hoped for.

It was the sense of being wrong.

It was knowing that he wasn't as great as he had thought. As Yugi had thought.

Yugi had thought better of him.

And he had failed. He had failed himself. He had failed the cards. He had failed his friends.

He had failed Yugi.

All he had wanted – to Yugi, who had been brave enough to try to hold him back, wonderful enough to try to persuade him otherwise, selfless enough to sacrifice himself – all he had wanted was to prove to Yugi that he could do it. He was great, he was powerful, and he could beat Raphael and Dartz without help. He was the pharaoh. He could do anything.

He had wanted to show Yugi how strong he was, how he was better than he thought, but all – all he had been doing was proving how right he had been. How weak, how incapable he turned out to be. How little he could do on his own.

The train arrived. This was important, for some reason; he could notice Téa trying to get him aboard, and he followed her slowly, because he knew that Tristan would probably up and carry him if he did not comply. Or perhaps Joey would punch him again. But that would be fine. He would deserve it. Maybe it would bring back some feeling.

Yami climbed aboard, slow and awkward. Téa caught his elbow a few times when it looked as if he would fall over. He didn't thank her, or if he did, then he certainly didn't remember it. He could barely remember staring out of the window at nothing, the row number of the seat he was in, or the heavy weight of the Puzzle upon his chest; but he did remember the loneliness. He remembered the guilt. And he remembered the ugly, bitter sense of defeat.

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