Title: Grave Robber
Summary: Seto wanted to take his secrets to the grave, but when a class project lands him and Joey closer than desired, those secrets become harder to protect than ever. Especially when Joey is discovering the common ground they share.
Contains: Yoai, lemon in random chapters, references to child abuse and molestation, sudden flashbacks, arguments, and occasionally ooc-ness
Pairing: Seto X Joey
Disclaimer: I do not own yu-gi-oh or the characters, I also make no money from the writing of this fanfic.
Author's Note: The middle bit of this chapter is actually the last bits of a pseudo-chapter I wrote for this story back in 2011. I reworked it a bit to give it some space, but it's all new material from here on out!
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The next morning, Joey made sure to make it to the dining room for breakfast before Kaiba. After the CEO's alarm clock went off at three-thirty in the morning, Joey had found a little bit more respect for the loonybird. Kaiba didn't waste a second after the alarm started beeping. As soon as it woke him up, he got out of bed, took his shower, and then just left the bedroom to go work in his office. He started work at four-thirty in the morning—it was no wonder he was always rude and crabby.
Breakfast was served at six-thirty on the dot, making it three hours after Kaiba got up that he finally got to eat anything. That combined with the sleepless nights completely explained why Kaiba was a jerk to everyone at school. He was hungry, tired, and already stressed from work before he even set foot in the school building.
Mokuba, on the other hand, who woke up around six and ate breakfast at six-thirty with semi-wet hair, was always energetic and in a good mood. He was also usually early to the dining room as well, snacking on whatever he could get in his mouth. The boy definitely had an appetite that Joey could appreciate.
"Hey, Mokuba," Joey said, sneaking into the dining room at six-fifteen.
"Hey," Mokuba said, mouth full of some unknown food. "What happened to your face?"
"Eh, it doesn't matter. I got a question for you though—is your brother on some new medication or somethin'? He's actin' really weird lately."
"Is he?" Mokuba said, his tone extremely sarcastic.
"Yeah, he is. Is there a reason why that you guys ain't tellin' me?"
"Well, he's got you here now," Mokuba said, as if that were really an acceptable answer.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Joey cried. "Kaiba's actin' weird! Is he on somethin' or not?"
"No, he's not on any medication," Mokuba said, rolling his eyes. "Don't tell him I said this, but he's been hung up on you for years. Now that you're around I don't have to hear him complain about you anymore. It's nice."
"How do you get him being hung up on me out of him complaining about me?"
"Because if he actually hated you, he wouldn't talk about you all the time. Like Yugi. The only time Seto says his name is if there's another tournament coming up. As for you, he can't even work with his designer on a new coat without bringing you up. Even the designer is getting tired of hearing about you all the time."
"If he likes me so much why does he gotta work so hard to be a jerk?" Joey grumbled. Mokuba made it sound so obvious, but it really hadn't been that clear. Kaiba had always made it apparent that he hated Joey.
"Because it's not acceptable for Seto to like another guy—let alone you."
"And what's wrong with me!?" Joey asked, huffing.
"You're a low-class mutt with no manners," came Kaiba's voice from the doorway behind Joey's seat. The blonde stiffened and slowly turned around to face Kaiba. He looked so different than he had the night before. His mask was back on—the one he used to hide all of his human emotions except for his pride. There was nothing left of the seductive, sensual person who'd had Joey trapped against a wall the night before. Not one single thing…
"And you're a real prince charming, ya know that?" Joey grumbled. He didn't know what to do about the whole situation. He wanted Mokuba to say Kaiba was suffering from a nervous break or started doing drugs—anything to make this whole thing make sense.
"Whatever. Sometime today you need to make up a list of meals you don't care for so my cooks don't waste their time on things you won't eat." He said it with no emotion, sitting down at his seat beside Mokuba just as a servant entered the room and served a mug of coffee to him.
"And why would I do that?" Joey asked, looking across the table that was stacked with plates and bowls of fresh fruit and whatever pastry Mokuba kept shoving down his throat.
"Because if you're going to be staying here, I don't want you to waste anymore of my money," Kaiba said. Mokuba growled and leaned back in his chair, looking exasperated and annoyed.
"I'm not stayin' here, Kaiba. I have my own house."
"And you're even dumber than I thought if you think I'm going to let you go back to that rat's nest."
"And you're an idiot if you think I'm going to stay here with a jerk like you," Joey snapped. For a second, Kaiba looked hurt. Then he was back to his emotionless state.
"I don't want to talk about this over breakfast," Kaiba said. He was staring at Mokuba when he said it, but his brother didn't notice. He was watching the servants who entered with plates of food. Joey could tell that what Kaiba really meant was "We're not discussing this in front of Mokuba."
"Well we're gonna talk about it. You can't act all nice to me one minute, moneybags, and then start insulting me the next. Don't act like you care if you don't!" There was more he wanted to say, more questions he wanted to ask, but he couldn't bring that kind of stuff up in front of Kaiba's kid brother—he didn't want Mokuba traumatized for life.
"Obviously I care, Wheeler. If I didn't, I would've left you to die at your father's house."
"He wasn't gonna kill me! Don't act so dramatic."
"Right. He was just going to use you as a punching bag until you quit moving. You think I should've left you there?—Or let you go back so it can happen again? So it can be worse since you got away the last time? Are you really dumb enough to believe that he won't have it out for you? You threatened his power. Now he'll have to take it back."
"He wouldn't have to take it back if you hadn't broken into my house and beat him up," Joey growled.
"You're an idiot if you think I'd stand by and let him hurt you."
"Why? All you do is call me names—it's the same thing."
"It's not the same thing," Kaiba said, almost sounding humored as he shook his head and started eating his breakfast.
"How would you know?" Joey spat. "You're nothin' but a spoiled rich boy. No one even talks back to you. How would you know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of half the stuff you say to me?"
"You think living with my step father was some kind of a pleasure cruise? Compared to Gozaburo Kaiba, your father is a saint."
Joey wanted to argue, but something in Kaiba's eyes made him think twice. It was that haunted look, resurfacing on top of all that coldness. If what Kaiba said was even remotely true, then there was much more to the CEO that what met the eye. Joey knew Gozaburo was far from kind, he knew that he pushed Kaiba harder than what was appropriate for a kid, but what more was there? There had to be something else that made Kaiba so…angry, so defensive. It was like he couldn't bear to hear that someone else had a struggle harder than his own.
Joey's father yelled at him—beat him—but Joey was still able to smile. It made him wonder, what the hell had Gozaburo done to make Kaiba so resentful toward everything and everyone?
Pity must've crossed Joey's face when he realized that there were more layers of abuse than just hitting and screaming. As soon as he had the thought, Kaiba's eyes went dark and hateful.
"Don't think you're the only one who's had a hard life, Wheeler. I earned everything I have. If you think any of this was handed to me—"
"Then I'm an idiot," Joey interjected, sighing in defeat.
"Then you're blind," Kaiba finished. Joey didn't know if Kaiba chose to avoid a direct insult because he actually felt guilty for being so mean or if he really attached more of a meaning to blindness than ignorance.
Kaiba finished the rest of his meal in silence, and Joey didn't have anything to say either. Mokuba kept giving him dirty looks down the table, as if Joey had committed some unspeakable offense. He guessed making Kaiba remember the man he hated the most was probably a less than acceptable thing to do…
When Kaiba walked off to finish a few more things for work, Joey stood up from the table and followed him. They needed to talk before any more time passed, and it wasn't possible to discuss anything in front of Mokuba.
"Why are you following me?" Kaiba muttered when he realized that Joey was only a few paces behind him as he approached his home office.
"I wanna talk to you," Joey said.
"Fine, but make it quick."
Joey felt his stomach flip. Kaiba made him anxious. It was almost impossible to believe that this cold, stoic guy was the same person who'd pushed Joey into the wall the night before with his hand down his pants…
"What do you want, Wheeler?" Kaiba pressed when Joey took too long to answer.
"It's…it's about my dad," Joey said, trying to find the easiest way to bring up his real concern. He had a feeling Kaiba wouldn't actually give him an answer if he asked, but he was going to try anyway.
"I already told you you're not moving back into that house. It's not safe," Kaiba said absently as he unlocked his office door.
"Look, it's not as bad as you think it is, alright?"
"I found you on the floor. You were letting him kick you in the face. If you don't consider that bad, things are worse in that house than I thought."
"I don't know what you thought, but you seem to have had a lot of assumptions about my dad before you ever even saw him."
"I saw your bruises," Kaiba said, not even looking at Joey. "I saw the way you limp in the hallways at school. So tell me, if kicking you in the face wasn't bad, what else does that man do to you?" Then Kaiba shot him a look, an all-knowing and piercing gaze.
"Not what you're thinkin', Kaiba," Joey said. "He hits me a lot, you're right about that, but that's all there is. Nothin'…. Nothin' weird is going on between him and me."
"Nothing weird?" Kaiba asked, his eyes narrowing.
Joey sighed and looked over at the clock on the wall. There wasn't much time left before he had to leave for school—in a car separate from Kaiba's of course—but the conversation wasn't going anywhere. It wouldn't be so bad if Joey didn't feel so anxious. He couldn't imagine sitting all day just waiting and hoping to have Kaiba make time to hear him out. After school, Kaiba went to work. Then he ate dinner if he had time and did more work… There just wasn't any more time…
"Look, we don't have time to dance around it, so I'm just gonna say it—"
"Say what? This whole conversation has been a waste of time," Kaiba muttered, reading over a piece of paper on top of his desk.
"You've got a lot of assumptions about me and my dad and what's goin' on in my house. There's no point lyin' to you after yesterday. He beats me up—He doesn't…he doesn't care about me like he's supposed to, but that's the end of it." Joey chanced a glance at Kaiba's face and saw that the brunette was giving him a particularly dark and yet still unreadable stare. It was obvious that Kaiba was unhappy, but whether or not he was anxious, sad, or angry was impossible to detect. "I… I have this feeling, Kaiba, that you have some knowledge about what I go through at home."
Joey felt he might make more progress if he put more of the emphasis on himself as the victim instead of Kaiba. If he asked Kaiba if Gozaburo beat him up, Kaiba would probably just say something snide.
"I would think that's obvious by this point in our relationship, Wheeler. Get to the point. Your car leaves in five minutes," Kaiba said. He turned his focus back to his paper, but Joey noticed that he was now holding it tighter, crumpling the page between his fingers. He was anxious, or nervous, and Joey didn't know if it was because of where their conversation was going or because Kaiba tried out the word "relationship" to describe whatever awkward, twisted thing that was forming between them.
"But the thing is…I think what you went through was worse," Joey said, trying to think quickly and get his point across, but without saying anything backhanded or insensitive.
Kaiba was silent for a long time, staring through the paper in his hand seemingly just to avoid looking at Joey or showing any emotion.
"I'm no tryin' ta make you relive anything or upset you. I just…I wanna know."
"Your car is going to leave soon. If you want to make it to school, you should go now."
Joey sighed and felt his shoulders droop. He'd gotten about as far as he'd expected, but it was still disappointing. Kaiba had seen him in two of his weakest and most vulnerable moments. He just wanted Kaiba to show some of that same openness.
Apparently, that was too much to ask…
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Seto could remember feeling horribly ashamed—that was the jist of it. He'd felt weak, inferior, repulsed, and greatly, deeply ashamed. He felt everything that the high school health classes kept telling him he wasn't supposed to.
Bullshit…what did they know?
Sure, women aren't supposed to feel weak or ashamed because women are naturally the weaker sex. They're supposed to have a man to protect them—that's why husbands were designed. As for their shame, well that's just foolishness. The only ones who should be ashamed are…
Men like himself.
Aside from the shame, he could remember that night. (The day had simply been one of those busy, monotonous ones that bled in with every other day. Nothing stood out, no bad reports given back by his professors. Just an average day. It was the night that had gone wrong.) He had felt confident that night. He'd felt like everything was going perfectly and according to plan. Every good feeling that ever existed, he was sure he'd felt as he slid between the sheets.
He had earned the right to sleep that night—he had been proficient and deserving of that one luxury.
He'd been on top of the world that night…
For at least an hour.
He'd probably only had his eyes closed for ten minutes—trying to get his brain to relax, as per usual—when he heard his bedroom door open and the beam of light flashed over him.
Immediately, Seto had sat up and looked towards the doorway. For a moment he'd feared that he actually had slept, and slept in late without knowing it. However, a quick glance towards the digital clock across the room said otherwise.
Seto didn't remember the exact time, but he knew that there was no reason for his step father to be standing in the doorway after just having told him to go to bed and that he deserved a good night's rest.
"Is something wrong?" Seto asked, his voice a bark. He didn't like it when anyone went back on their word, and barging in on him as he tried to sleep after being granted the privilege was definitely going against Gozaburo's word.
"Be quiet." Seto flinched and obeyed, falling silent as his stepfather entered the room and closed the door without turning on the light. He felt panic rise in his chest, but didn't understand why. Still drunk on his euphoria, he didn't comprehend—no, couldn't realize the oddness of the situation.
Looking back on it, Seto felt even worse. He not only felt ashamed, he felt stupid. Thirteen-year-olds know what rape is, especially him. Especially since he had lived in an orphanage where "violent night-activities between the boys" was one of the first things he'd been warned about upon entering.
How could he have been so stupid? How could he not have noticed that something was wrong? He didn't even think until Gozaburo had made it to the side of his bed and had fisted his hand in his hair. And then, what could he stammer out?
"What have I done that's upset you, Father?" The fear didn't show through in his voice, he'd learned never to allow it that freedom. He remembered asking the question as blankly as he would have if asking what his day's schedule was.
"Shut up!" Gozaburo had yelled. Seto didn't remember exactly what the man had said after that, but he remembered being ordered to go to his dresser and "show me what you've been hiding from me!" Seto had felt horrified because he wasn't hiding anything—he didn't even think the terror he would have felt if he had been hiding something would have trumped the fear he felt then. At least if he'd had something he would be in control.
He could have offered it up and be spared the beating…
But all he had was his deck, and he was sure that Gozaburo wouldn't be that enraged over a deck of cards. What did Gozaburo think was there, he'd wondered. Weapons? Pilfered files? Condoms? Drugs? What?
He'd dared to glance up at the man once while proving that he had nothing hidden in any of his drawers and had been so overwhelmed by the look of sheer hatred on the man he'd called father's face.
"Where is it?" Gozaburo had hissed, grabbing Seto by his hair again and shoving him towards the writing desk on the opposite side of the room. After it had turned up empty of whatever Gozaburo thought Seto had—stolen jewels? Stolen money?—Seto had suffered a beating. Probably the worst he'd gotten from the man since adoption.
He'd grown accustom to slaps across the face, punches to the gut, degrading whippings…he wasn't used to fists to his face or kicks to the ribs. Gozaburo had refrained from all "illegal" acts of violence against his stepson, probably in fear of the kid taking legal action. So long as he just slapped him in the face or whipped him, he was abiding by the law and Seto would look like another whiny, spoiled child.
Gozaburo had asked him where it was once again after shoving him against the average-sized bookcase in the corner. Several books toppled on top of him, but one, Seto strictly remembered, hit him beneath his eye and gave him the black eye he'd had the next day.
Through the whole ordeal, Gozaburo never aimed for Seto's face except for to slap him. Gozaburo knew how to strike without leaving a mark…
Through the whole ordeal, Seto didn't once scream, didn't once sob, didn't once tear up. He didn't beg for mercy—he only begged to know what it was that Father wanted.
Gozaburo, for whatever reason, had stooped down and picked up one of the books that had fallen. Seto recognized it as the reference book where he hid his deck and bowed his head. Gozaburo noted the gesture and, with a sickening smirk, pulled open the book and tilted it towards the window to catch the outside light well enough to see. There were security lights burning all night. It was never very hard to see around the rooms at night.
"Cards," Gozaburo had growled in disbelief. He tossed the book, still open, at his stepson, striking the boy's shoulder as he daringly leaned out of the way. "You waste my time!" He was grabbed again, beaten again, slammed against the bookcase again, and ordered to go through all of the books and present it.
Seto had wanted to cry from pain, frustration, and sheer terror, but he didn't. That was the key thing. He did not cry. He stayed attentive, he kept an ear trained on Gozaburo as he took down, opened, and flipped through each and every book. When it came down to the last one, he had already stiffened from the anticipation of the oncoming blows and didn't bother to avoid them.
He had been so stupid, and now he was so ashamed…the point of the lesson was to fight him off, to get away…Every businessman needs to know not to submit to assault of any kind.
Why had he accepted the beatings? The false accusations? Because he was feeling affectionate that night? Because he thought he deserved to be punished? Because he feared what would happen if he did run and got caught?
Because he was a weak, pathetic, worthless mongrel. That was why he submitted. That's what left him ashamed and humiliated.
"Hid it in the mattress didn't you!?" Tossed, this time towards the bed. Seto collided with the frame and felt something in his spine shift uncomfortably and cried out involuntarily. "You're making this worse than it has to be, Seto!" So he'd gone through the process again—proving there was nothing in his sheets, nothing in his pillow, no holes in the mattress where things could be hidden. Nothing.
But this time, when Gozaburo grabbed him, he broke.
He was bleeding from his mouth, a direct relation to the blows he'd received to his ribs and gut no doubt, he felt light-headed and nauseous.
He broke.
He cried for mercy—like he wasn't permitted to.
"Father, please, I don't have anything! Believe me, Father, please! Please! Stop. Please stop!" He'd begged.
Had he really expected Gozaburo to obey his request? Seto didn't remember—there was no way that he could. His mind was in a panic, processing too many things at once. What could he have? What did Gozaburo want? Who had planted this seed of suspicion? Why? Had he already done this to Mokuba? Was Mokuba hurt? If Gozaburo didn't stop soon, would he die? All over this mysterious it?
"Someone told you I was going to come looking for it, didn't they?" Seto had gasped. In his mind, he envisioned himself going through every room in the Kaiba mansion until he found something, being beaten each time nothing turned up. "I've checked every other room you frequent. It has to be with you."
"Father, I don't know what you're talking about," Seto remembered whimpering pathetically. He'd been slapped then, and shoved backwards until he toppled over his bed which he'd been ordered to put back and remake to prove that nothing was hidden in the sheets.
"It has to be on you…" Seto hadn't liked the tone of Gozaburo's voice, or the order that followed. He should have run. He should have been strong. But, instead, he obeyed the order and took of his night shirt, his hands shaking while he did it. Gozaburo had taken the shirt, proved to himself that it had no hidden pockets, and tossed it aside. "Pants."
"Father! Please!" It was humiliating enough, being without his shirt, but to be stripped of his pants as well—and when nothing was there, he knew what followed. "I don't have anything!" Despite his pleas, Seto remembered, he'd chosen to obey the orders rather than to run.
Why didn't he run? Why? Because he was a stupid, worthless dog incapable of going against his master's orders! That's why! Because he'd been stupid! He'd been weak!
He hadn't taken off his boxers himself. He remembered that and it was the only thing he could feel proud of. He hadn't stooped that low. He'd disobeyed…at least a little.
"You think you can outsmart me, don't you? You think I'll value your personal privacy over my laws?" Seto had fought then—he'd fought hard. He'd struggled, he'd gotten pinned, and he failed to protect himself.
He'd deserved it.
He'd been so stupid, and so weak.
When his boxers had been torn away, he kept from screaming, but when he was prevented from even attempting to cover himself he became frantic. He'd struggled, but Gozaburo prevailed.
When Gozaburo forced him to roll over onto his hands and knees on the bed, however, he'd screamed because he knew what came next. He'd attempted to get free, but Gozaburo had him by the hips. He'd thought if he kept struggling, he would eventually get loose, but he'd failed—Gozaburo thought faster. He pinned Seto's legs with his knees and forced Seto's head into the mattress with his hand to keep him from rising.
"Don't!" Seto pleaded, still struggling. He felt as if his neck would break if he fought harder, but the assault that would follow if he didn't get free seemed worse. "Please! I really don't have anything!" Seto's voice cracked into a loud groan as Gozaburo pressed the fingers of his free hand against him.
And that was where the memory broke.
Seto tried to force it out of his head, trying to think of anything else at all. He didn't want to relive that night or the dozens of others that were like it. For a long time he'd tried to make himself forget, but that was when the nightmares started. It was like his brain was determined to torture him.
When forgetting didn't work, he tried to desensitize himself. He forced himself to replay the events of so many horrible nights over and over, but for some reason even that didn't numb the pain. Time had healed the sorrow following his parents' deaths, his and Mokuba's abandonment at that orphanage… But time wasn't healing this.
He didn't want to think that maybe this was because it was the first time he was trying to deal with his pain on his own. Mokuba had always been with him, sharing in it. Seto had to support him and make sure he was alright.
But Mokuba wasn't involved in this. Gozaburo had little to no interest in Mokuba. His focus had been on Seto—using Seto, breaking Seto. And that wasn't a weight Seto could put on Mokuba's shoulders. Mokuba was frightened enough being in the strange house. It looked like a nice home, but it was horrible for both of them. And how would Seto have even turned to Mokuba for support? He was just a kid.
Even now, Mokuba didn't know the full extent of the things Seto had been put through. He probably had an idea, but as long as there was doubt Seto still felt safe in his secrets.
But now those secrets weren't so safe. He'd dragged that mutt Wheeler into his life—into his issues. For some reason he'd convinced himself it was okay to grab the dog and do what he wanted with it… He hated himself now because he knew if he went back to being cold and distant, he would be no better than Gozaburo had been.
Joey deserved respect now. Seto couldn't be as harsh or cruel. If he did, he would hurt Joey worse than he ever wanted to hurt another human being. Name calling was that much worse when the physical aspects of romance got involved. After what Seto had done to the poor kid, he could barely even look Joey in the eye in fear of getting mad and saying something hurtful.
The last thing he wanted, no matter how crazy he knew he was for having any feelings at all toward the scrappy, blonde mutt, was to become like his stepfather.
He couldn't handle this. There were too many thoughts in his head—and too many things that needed tended to that didn't have to do with his attachment to his blonde dog. The car had already taken Joey to school… They were supposed to give their presentation today, but Seto didn't really feel up to standing next to the boy in public. Not now.
Not with the thoughts in his head…
And besides, the teachers were practically forced to accept his constant absences, and it would be a fun distraction to have his pup mad at him for skipping out on their presentation once again.