Note: Last chapter was focused on Kaiba's relationship with Mokuba, and how it had progressed, to where it is now. It was a little aside, something Seto would recount to himself. Even though this story is listed as being about Seto and Joey, it obviously revolves mostly around Seto (and what doesn't? haha). In my opinion, you can't write Seto without writing Mokuba, as they influence each other very much. Hopefully explaining his relationship with his only remaining family helps you guys to get into his character more

I had developed a penchant for thinking about people I had no business thinking of. It was a nasty habit I picked up sometime after Mokuba first held his little "reunion" in my house. I thought about Yugi sometimes, yes. It brought me back to older days and the weird chaos that had consumed my life. Duelist Kingdom- a strange time for me. How I left feeling unsteady, on the verge of grabbing the hand that Yugi always seemed to be outstretching, just taking it, being friends. In front of my computer, late at night, my eyes rotting away at the screen, I tried to picture what it would have felt like to walk into a house filled with Yugi and his friends had I been one of them. Would I have cracked a smile upon seeing them? Maybe Wheeler would have run up to me and slapped me on the back. Maybe we could all look back on our younger years and laugh about it, like the best of inside jokes. Maybe after they were gone I would have turned to Mokuba and said "Wow I haven't seen those guys in ages! Thanks for getting them all together for me!". But that wasn't how it was, I knew. In the dark, at my computer screen, I thought of watching my life from above, moving like a river, and me, dragging along in the undercurrent.

It was at another party, the next time I was to run into Wheeler.

I had always clung to the idea that, because I went to "parties" a few times a month, then I must be healthy. An incurable introvert wouldn't be able to handle that, would he? But the parties and dinners were stale affairs thrown by old men and received by old men. If it were a dinner party, then the food was served early. If it were more of a mingling, unstructured event, then there was always the dull whistle of a bland jazz band. Aside from the old men and their money, a lot of young gold-diggers came as well. I would sometimes glance over at one, on the arm of some sallow-skinned man riding out his days in delusion. This was one of the few times when I could bond or connect with women in any sort of way. They always looked the same, pursed lips, acrylic nails clicking together, looking so bored and so empty that is made my heart cry. I knew how it felt, yes, to forever be linked on the arm of death, holding on only for the money.

I saw Wheeler first. I would liken my situation to one of a new car owner who, immediately after buying a car of a particular make and model, cannot help but notice his same car everywhere he goes. Now that Wheeler was back in my peripheral vision I could not help but to be on the lookout for him at all times.

He was out on the balcony, away from others, still in his work clothes- the white shirt that at one time was probably starched but now was untucked and rumpled, black pants held up by a belt and a cheap black bowtie that Wheeler had undone. He was leaning across the railing, not quite facing away from the party, but not quite looking out into the night. His features and the details of him, although dark in the night, were illuminated by the glow of inside in such a soft, romantic way that he almost looked like a piece of art, a ground-breaking painting that told a common story. He had a cigarette in his mouth, although, as I got closer I could see it was not lit. He held a lighter out in front of him, sparking it and then extinguishing the flame, as if the tiny light were a decision needing to be made.

I stood in the doorway out to the balcony, studying the scene for a moment, not sure if I was disappointed he was there, ruining my chance for a lonely moment, or if I was relieved that he was now a tangible element in front of me again, not a figment floating through my brain. It took him a moment to register me, but when he did, his face lit up like a jack o'lantern, white teeth glowing against the flame from the lighter.

"I can't get away from you can I?" There was a laugh behind his words, a subtle joke. His voice was rough like he had been smoking earlier. He leaned further back into the rail, stretching his arms across it like an invitation. I stepped out on the balcony.

"So what's better, sloughing through the streets of Domino in a taxi, or hiding out at parties and smoking?" My question stemmed from genuine interest, although I was sure my voice conveyed only condescension. I was after all, a creature of habit.

Wheeler twisted his head to look out at the distant buildings. He spit over the balcony from the side of his mouth, keeping the cigarette in place. I could feel my face wrinkle up.

"I wasn't smoking" he said, finally pulling the cigarette from his mouth, "I was thinking 'bout it, but I told Serenity that I'd stop, and I meant it."

"Should I amend the question then?"

Wheeler glared at me, eyes dark and vicious.

"I wasn't hiding out either. I was thinking."

"Out of practice?"

"Kaiba!" he hissed, mouth making a crooked line as the last vowel came out.

I backed away from him, physically that is. I could read something in his body now much more defensive than it had been moments before. He had wanted me there, but I couldn't understand what he had expected.

His sudden startup caught me off guard. "You know, I'm not just a waiter. Head chef, yeah, he lets me cook with him sometimes. Says if I can scrape up a little money he'll get me into his cooking school, maybe get me a better job with him after. Says I could be good, I just need," Wheeler paused for a moment and spat again, "more education".

I was about to say something but he spoke again. "The driving, well, that's just to make a little more money on the side. Aint nothing. Just driving 'round Domino looking for people who need to get somewhere."

"How come I haven't seen you all these years until now?"

Wheeler turned his head to look me right in the eye. He really did have a big mouth, in the most literal sense. His lips were flat and long but retained a certain fullness that probably appealed to most.

I thought he was about to answer, say something unexpected, maybe a little dramatic, it was the look in his eyes, the sharpness of his movement. I realized I was holding my breath.

Wheeler shrugged. "Maybe you just didn't want to see me."

I scoffed. As if I had wanted to see him then.

We stood together in the night, on the balcony, not looking at anything in particular, but understanding our collective presence as it could have been witnessed by the rest of the world. I did not lean against the rail like Wheeler. The further he sank into the barrier the straighter I seemed to stand. He moved like smoke, the same thoughtless motion. Inside music droned on and the people droned on and the party droned on, but the light was reassuring.

Wheeler was always the first to talk.

"You're worried Kaiba, what's wrong?"

I laughed a little, for my own benefit mostly. "You have a third job as a therapist that I don't know about?"

Wheeler's face twitched a little. I think he felt happy. He stuck his chin out into the open air, not looking at me.

"My friends must be rubbing off on me".

I got the joke. My lips felt chapped as I rubbed them together, holding in any trace of a laugh that might have escaped.

"You're thinking, calculating. I can tell." The astute tone wasn't something I was used to, coming from Wheeler.

"I'm always thinking." I said quietly into the sky.

I became aware that the noise from inside had grown more fragmented, as if people were leaving. I checked my watch. Wheeler saw me checking. As I had before, I made eye contact without meaning to.

Wheeler didn't give in, didn't attempt a smile the way most people did when I was looking straight at them. He didn't apologize. Didn't look away. His face was studious in its expression, his long mouth just barely too tense to be relaxed. His eyes had the appearance of hanging below the lids, sympathetic and maybe a little sad. I wondered if he was making the same notes on my face as I was making on his. In some corner of my brain I heard the music stop. Wheeler looked back inside. Looked at me, tilted his head, pushed his lips forward like he was going to say something.

I looked at my watch again without care for the time. My face tingled, even more so with the cool breeze of the night. Wheeler no longer leaned into the rail. He had straightened up, rubbing his hands together.

"Kaiba"

I looked over at him, quicker than I had meant to. "You wanna grab something to eat? You know, we could pretend…pretend, well, not like old times, but maybe we could just pretend we're old buddies. Going out. Grabbing a bite."

"Isn't it a little late for dinner?"

Wheeler's face cracked in delight. "Never a bad time for food, I always say."

It might be easier than I thought, charading about town with Wheeler, pretending that it was the most natural thing in the world.

And suddenly, I was so hungry.

Funnily enough, we went to the same place where I had bought Mokuba a burger from, a while ago, when I was walking by myself and thinking of him. It was a short walking distance form the party so there was little time to feel awkward walking alongside Wheeler, seeing as though we both walked quickly and with purpose.

Wheeler ordered first. "Can I have a double bacon cheeseburger with an order of fries, an order of chicken fingers and some coleslaw?"

I didn't know what I wanted, it wasn't my type of food. So when I got up to the counter I asked for a diet coke and a chicken sandwich, hold all toppings.

When I turned back to Wheeler he looked incredulous. "That's all?"

I brushed past him to sit down at a table in the back corner by one of the windows. I took the seat with my back to the wall rather than the room, the same seat I always liked to take at any table. Wheeler followed with some ketchup packets in hand, grinning like an idiot in love. I knew this meant he was thinking of the food.

He sat at the opposite chair, back completely exposed to the rest of the room. He propped his elbows up on the table, leaned his head forward and ran his fingers through his hair. It reminded me that I could never touch my hair and scalp so carelessly because then my fingernails would feel dirty and I wouldn't be able to stand it.

"Order number 7!"

Wheeler looked down at his ticket and then got up to retrieve his meal. He came back with a full tray loaded with food.

"Number 8!"

With less enthusiasm than Wheeler, I pushed myself out of the seat and over to the counter.

By the time I walked back Wheeler already had half the burger shoved down his throat, looking as happy as I'd ever seen him. I had grabbed a plastic fork and knife from up front, and as I proceeded to take the buns off my sandwich and cut the chicken, Wheeler slowed down on his eating to stare at me.

"You can just pick it up and eat it, you know." He said through half a mouthful of burger.

"I prefer not to eat that way."

Wheeler shrugged and resumed eating with the same gusto as before. He came up for air again long enough to pester me.

"So really Kaiba, what's on your mind?"

I chewed a tiny piece of chicken, took a sip from the diet coke and contemplated whether or not I should even respond. For some unknown reason, I did.

"Mokuba." I grunted, offering no initial explanation.

Wheeler had almost cleared his tray while I was still working my way through a second piece of chicken, a second sip of diet coke. He looked at me quizzically, swallowing the food in his mouth with an audible gulp.

"What about Mokuba?"

Something in my mind clicked and I came back to my senses.

"Worry about your own life, Wheeler."

He looked offended, his eyes opened wide and his cheeks turned red. I saw him clench his jaw. But he didn't try and pick a fight, didn't pick up where I had left off. He was so subdued compared to how I remembered.

"I got a sister, you know. If you remember her. I know how it is, Kaiba. It's never an easy thing is it?"

The words struck something with me, and the memory of Wheeler's face when his sister said she was going home with another man came to mind. I believed he understood. The rhetorical question was left ringing in my head.

Another piece of chicken, another sip of diet coke. Wheeler watched me the whole time, but I could not tell if it was out of impatience or just the opposite. It unnerved me, but I felt exhausted and couldn't object. In fact, even the idea of fighting or insulting Wheeler made me tired. I could almost be impressed with my younger self for having the stamina to keep it up.

But Wheeler seemed wary of argument as well. He was more guarded in his words than I remember, more aware of consequence. I had to almost expect it though, coming from a character like him. That was who Wheeler was, he was the character who grew as a person, who progressed, who improved.

We were the only ones left in the restaurant by the time I finished eating. As we walked out of the building questions flew through my mind. It was the end of our adventure now, and I still had things I had meant to find out. But I was barely forming a cordial relationship with Wheeler, much less a friendly one, and tonight had been the biggest exception to date. I only knew how to be confrontational in my questions, but I tried anyway.

"Who was the girl?"

I could sense Wheeler cocking his head, even in the blank night.

''Say what?"

"The one who kicked you out."

"Oh." I heard Wheeler itch his hair. "She didn't actually kick me out. Her boyfriend did."

I filed that detail in the back of my mind to ask about next time, if there was a next time. I couldn't ask too many questions tonight without it coming off as well, too much. "Who was she?"

"Oh. You know Mai."

Mai. These people apparently never branched out of their little cluster, always staying together, creating the same drama that they had as teenagers. Yes, I remembered her. Blonde. Tiny face with big eyes. Tall. She had a memorable look about her sure, although I found her to be a rather incompetent duelist. Maybe better than some, alright. But still below par.

"Still chasing that girl around, after all these years, Wheeler?" I wasn't being half as judgmental as I normally was, because I knew a rut when I saw one.

"Nah." Wheeler sped up his pace, his voice came out breathless, maybe sounding excited under a different premise. "Not anymore."

I took a few long strides and was walking exactly beside him once more. "After that shit went down, you know, the boyfriend and all, well I thought about showing up at my dad's place, maybe bringing a case of beer, asking if it'd be alright but…"

Wheeler stopped for a minute as we stood on a little footbridge that reined over one of the small city ponds. "You ever just look at the water at night, Kaiba? Jeesh it really is something." And he stood by the edge for a few moments, gazing into the inky depth.

But I was oblivious to the water. I wanted Wheeler to talk again. "But what? Finish your thoughts Wheeler."

"But I just couldn't do it." I watched as Wheeler reached down into his pocket and took out the pack of cigarettes and the lighter. He pulled one out and put it in his mouth.

"Wheeler, your sister-'. At my words he snapped his head up, then gave me a look as if he had expected someone else to have said it.

"Oh. Right. Thanks."

"Why couldn't you do it?"

He was lost then, lost looking at the water. At least I thought so. I looked at the water then too, and was terrified by the richness of it.

"Because I made a promise to myself that I'd leave all my ghosts behind."