Bows of Promise

Chapter Sixteen

He supposed it should not have come as such a shock.

Bakura was a surgeon. A trauma surgeon. A conference of this size, in a reputable country like Japan…? It really should not have come as a surprise.

"I didn't see you during last night's dinner."

He was speaking once again, pulling the chair opposite him, taking a seat like it was the most natural thing ever. Like he belonged on the other side of the table. Natural, smooth, confident. As usual.

And as usual, without giving the slightest thought to what Yami felt about all of this. The fact that his heart was thundering like a canon in his ears, the fact that he could feel his mouth drying, his head spinning with panicked thoughts and his fingers shaking with the rush of adrenaline that swept through him, upsetting and screwing over any semblance of peace he was feeling mere seconds ago.

Unconsciously, his hands wrapped tightly around the bowl-like cup in front of him, shielding the fact that they were shaking from the guest on his table. Very subtly, he swallowed, pursing his lips tightly and biting on the inside of his cheek to control himself not to release any unexpected whimpering sounds or anything equally embarrassing. He breathed evenly and slowly through his nose, starting a quick grounding exercise so he wouldn't hurl himself into the arms of the panic attack waiting for him to succumb to its clutches.

In some insane way…somehow, he kept a calm façade about him.

"I had dinner in my room yesterday," he heard himself speak.

He fought with all his might not to blink in amazement at how level, how cool he sounded as he spoke the words. Almost as if he was having a casual conversation with a long lost friend. As if his instincts weren't all screaming for him to bolt for the door or curl up with his head between his knees and his arms around his head protectively.

"You never liked conference dinners," Bakura was smiling and Yami felt the fine hairs on his skin rising.

He raised the cup to his lips, grateful for the miracle –or perhaps the nerves of steel he developed from years of dealing with trauma surgeries—that somehow steadied his hands so much. He took a small sip. Forced himself to swallow, especially since his favorite beverage turned to tasteless warm liquid sliding on his tongue and down his throat. He forced himself not to cringe. He forced himself to close his eyes. Forced himself to remember that this was broad daylight. That he was safe here.

His panic was rising, though. He knew he had to keep his eyes fixed on Bakura if he was ever going to continue this confrontation strong. And so, after just two or three seconds of closing his eyes and reliving his worst memories in the darkness behind his lids, he opened them again.

Just a fraction, his heart rate calmed.

"You would know that too well," he muttered in calm tones.

"Of course. The entire surgery department back home knew that while everyone gouged themselves on good free food, you would stick your cute little nose up at it and eat alone," the white-haired man said, sitting back in the white chair, crossing his legs and crossing his fingers together on his lap.

The compliment made his skin crawl.

He ignored it. and he ignored the 'back home' expression. Everything about the situation made him ill and he was painfully aware that slowly, his face was paling, drained of its blood. He knew his usually dark lips were becoming a sickly pale color. He felt terrible and he felt even more terrible about the fact that soon, Bakura would know exactly that his strength was feigned. That he was still the same young man in his mid-twenties, without experience, without strength… suffering through the mental games he played so well on him alone.

Alone…

The thought left a lump in the back of his throat. A lump and a horrid taste in his mouth, along with a threatening burn in the corners of his eyes and he could feel the beginnings of an impending panic attack looming threateningly over his shoulders. It was happening and there was nothing about to stop it. he was going to cause a scene here in the hotel's lobby, in front of the one person he had to appear completely composed in front of and there was nothing he could do about it, and the helplessness of his situation was sending him tumbling faster towards his attack and no amount of grounding exercises was going to help him now.

Nothing was going to help him now.

And as though by some divine order, just as the helpless thought rushed through his addled mind… a white clad arm came within his line of vision, ending with a slender hand that covered his own which were still wrapped around his cup of coffee.

He blinked in surprise and shifted his head up, dragging his gaze over the slender fingers, the familiar wrist, the strong forearm…the upper arm whose swell of deltoid he knew too well and up the gorgeous neck to land on Seto's features.

And suddenly, the roaring in his ears quieted down.

There was something in Seto's eyes. Understanding. Alarm and anger, but most important of all, understanding. And it was all wrapped in an expression that, for this particular critical moment, shushed down Yami's racing thoughts and his frighteningly rapid heartbeat. It was a split second in which their eyes met. But in it, Yami knew that Seto came to the correct conclusion about his companion's identity. In it, he conveyed his concern and his anger at the memory of what Yami had shared with him almost a month ago. In it… he conveyed the most important thought to Yami at that moment: that he was here now and that he, Yami, wasn't alone in this.

"Let me just have a sip of that before we go back please," the brunet was saying, taking the cup from his hands after very subtly pressing Yami's fingers against the fine porcelain of it. Yami understood easily that he was trying to make subtle physical contact with him and he was eternally grateful for it. a few moments later, Seto straightened with the cup, raising it to his lips to take a sip while averting his gaze to Bakura.

If it had been in any other situation, Yami would have dissolved into giggles at the condescending way with which Seto stared down his nose at the white-haired man seated across from him. But he didn't and focused instead when he heard Seto speaking again.

"Will you introduce me to your friend, Yami?" he was asking.

Yami swallowed discreetly, turning his eyes once again to Bakura who was holding Seto's condescending blue gaze with his own dark eyes. Yami knew that look too well. It was a predatory look that took in every detail, no matter how trivial. Bakura was studying Seto very carefully. It increased the illness Yami felt at the situation in its entirety tenfold. It was a sickening look that he was too familiar with. The brown eyes glinted ominously from beneath white locks, mouth twisting in a serene, disturbing smirk.

Yami felt like bolting upright and dragging Seto away from it and being on the other end of it.

"Seto…this is Dr. Bakura Akeifa, he was my direct senior during my residency years in Egypt," Yami said, looking between them. He knew the information was unnecessary for Seto, but he wasn't about to let Bakura know that he had been brought up at all and he stuck with that. He also decided that since he wasn't going to explain that Bakura was his former lover, he sure as hell wasn't going to let Bakura know anything about his current one. "Bakura, this is Dr. Seto Kaiba, the co-writer of my current thesis."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Bakura pleasantly said and Yami almost snorted at the civilized way with which he spoke.

Nothing like he remembered him. with eyes shadowed with his shock of white hair, features twisted into a horrifying sneer as he looked down at him, trapping him with the broad frame and ruthless blows that came too quickly and too unexpectedly for him to try and avoid.

His eyes had glazed over ever-so-slightly with the images running through his mind. Seto's voice brought him out of it. "Pleasure is all mine…" a distant part of him made out the words and understood them. He was partly aware that Seto had turned to him, saying, "One of the students wants to meet you, Yami…let's go?"

The words filtered through his mind but he was unable to process them. He let instincts take over and got up. He was surprised and pleased with himself. The level way with which he moved. It was all that mattered at the moment. It didn't matter that chaos was wreaking havoc on his insides right now. What mattered was that he rose smoothly and gracefully from his seat, hands steady as he reached for his phone, wallet and pen, collecting them.

"It was nice seeing you again," he lied smoothly, amazed at the lack of quiver in his voice as he addressed Bakura who was also rising from his seat.

He was congratulating himself. It was over and they were leaving and he hadn't had a single lapse in composure in front of Bakura. It was something to celebrate and be proud of.

And as if he jinxed it, as he and Seto stood next to the table, with Bakura standing in front of them, his former lover moved suddenly. Thinking about it, Yami told himself he should not have reacted the way he did.

Bakura had raised his hand suddenly, reaching for him. The movement was quick, Yami did not expect it. In retrospect, it also looked very innocent. It was the speed of it that made everything so alarming. He wasn't thinking rationally. He wasn't even trying. He had been too distracted trying to appear in perfect self-control that he was careless. He wasn't thinking rationally and when the movement came, all his mind could fathom… was the fact that Bakura was moving quickly around him, towards him, moving the familiar arm and hand towards him, towards his face with speed.

It usually equated to a lot of pain.

Two things happened at once in response to the hand that moved towards him so suddenly.

First, was his reaction. All the composure he had been meticulously feigning was gone. He flinched and stiffened. Instinctively, he had moved back, his features scrunching up at the pain he was expecting to blossom soon and he stayed perfectly still, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself than was absolutely necessary.

And second…Seto had moved a moment after Bakura did.

Yami blinked.

Seto had one arm around him, pulling him nearer to his chest and farther away from Bakura. The other was held up, his hand wrapped securely around Bakura's wrist, stopping him just as he was a few centimeters away from Yami not allowing him to touch him. Yami blinked twice more in shock, staring at Seto's hand wrapped tightly, powerfully around Bakura's wrist holding it in place. He shifted his eyes up at the cold expression in Seto's eyes, his mouth set in determination as he fixed the white-haired man with a glare that Yami knew would send lesser men running.

But Bakura wasn't the type to run, he supposed. He had a triumphant look subtly lurking in his brown eyes.

Yami realized that he was standing with his back directly to Seto's chest as he spoke. He felt the strong vibrations of his voice against his back. "What do you suppose you are doing, Dr. Akeifa?" Seto was asking.

Bakura chuckled and Yami once again could feel his skin crawling. He felt stupid especially as he realized what his former lover had done. Their eyes met and Yami recognized the amusement in the brown eyes. Even before he replied, Yami knew it was a lie.

"I was just fixing Yami's collar for him," came the smooth excuse. Yami looked away. "He always hates it when he finds out that it's crooked or rumpled. Thought I'd give him a hand. Sorry Yami, didn't know you've gotten so nervous and keep bodyguards around you."

Seto let go of his wrist with a subtle push in a gesture that was contemptuous at best. His glare was still fixed in place as he answered, ignoring the jab at him, "It is generally unacceptable to make sudden moves to invade another person's personal space like this. Do keep that in mind."

Yami felt faint. His heart was pounding too heavily in his ears and he was alarmed to realize that it was too late and too pointless to try and prevent Bakura from realizing the ill feeling he inspired in him. Yami knew that the action wasn't as subtle as the white-haired man wanted to make it look. And it sure as hell wasn't to 'fix his collar'. Bakura was trying to find out if he was still that quivering nervous mess he made out of him and he had succeeded with flying colors in proving it to himself and, more importantly, to Yami that he most probably won't be able to keep himself together around him. No matter how hard he tried to pretend.

"We will take our leave now," Seto was saying, his arm tightening very slightly around him, then shifting down. He turned, nudging Yami ever-so-slightly to do so as well.

Everything was a nasty blur after that. Yami let himself be led through the lavish hallways of the hotel. They walked a short distance, expertly avoiding people. They were in a quiet large space by themselves for a few minutes, then they were walking again… and that was where he lost good awareness of their surroundings and what they were doing. The familiar roar in his ears was something he couldn't ignore. He was too busy paying attention to how loud it was getting than he was paying attention to where they were going. It deafened him to any and all other sounds and, coupled with the heat rising at the back of his neck, the sweat that beaded coldly at his hairline, ran down his back sickeningly. He could feel the palpitating heart acutely and soon, his chest started aching and he couldn't breathe.

He was desperately trying to calm down enough to start grounding himself. It was very difficult. It was too late. He was drowned by the waves of panic, his heart rate offering a noisy unwelcome soundtrack and a sense of suffocation…almost death looming over him. the pain tightening his chest unbearably was too distracting from any other sensation and he felt himself holding his breath against it.

In the haze of terror, however, he felt sudden coolness settling on the back of his neck. A detached part of his mind provided that it was a wet cloth. And with the shock of sensation that jolted him back from the throes of panic, he realized he wasn't alone. He was lying on his side in recovery position on the ground against a lush, unrecognizable carpet. There was a body right behind his, spooning his within it and an arm was wrapped around him, holding him tight and secure against the warmth behind him and pinning him firmly to the floor, preventing him from shattering to a thousand pieces.

He heard himself gasp. He felt the arm around him tightening, the coolness on the back of his neck shifting to the sides of it.

He heard Seto's voice speaking from a distance, cutting through the roar in his ears. He was counting something and Yami clung to every word.

"Breathe… Yami, one, two…"

He gasped again, once…twice. He tried to breathing out and failed. He held on to Seto's voice for guidance, awaiting his count and with what seemed like monumental effort, he finally managed to exhale.

"Good, Yami, again…one, two," Seto was speaking again. His voice was firm, cutting through the haze, his dizziness and spinning head slowly but surely. He breathed shakily once with his count, exhaling, then breathed in again and then out. He repeated it several times, each with the count Seto was tirelessly providing, adding a new number every few cycles of this until they reached an eight and he could surely breathe in and out in a regular manner.

"Good job… you're alright. You're alright," Seto was repeating in his ear.

He opened his eyes which he had clenched shut tightly some time ago. And he tried again.

He looked straight ahead. He could see each individual hair on the white frieze carpet, the brown-colored tiles, the leg of the coffee table just next to them, the window letting sunlight drift in and the seemingly-endless view of the city stretched outside the window. He felt the roughness of the carpet against his temple, he felt Seto's arm around him, felt the cool, smooth material pressed against his neck and he felt the gentle press of his shirt's fabric against his skin. He could hear his own shaky breaths moving in and out of his chest in a thankfully regular pattern. In contrast, he heard the quiet sound of Seto's. He listened carefully to the occasional reassuring shush he made in his ear. He smelled the familiar sandalwood, champagne and roses scent that the hotel used to freshen the rooms with… he was more grateful to be engulfed by an even more familiar…welcoming scent. The musky base remaining of the perfume had put on in the morning.

And finally… he could taste saltiness in his mouth.

He flinched. He closed his eyes and moved, sucking in a deep shaky breath as his hand rose up to wipe at his face. He pulled it away and looked at it in shock, a low gasp escaping him at the wetness he wiped away. His eyes widened, feeling mortified.

He was crying.

Breath quickening with a fresh wave of panic for entirely different causes now, he tried to draw away from Seto. He didn't know what exactly he was trying to do, but he supposed his first instinct on discovering the tears rushing down his face in this situation was to run away from audience, trying to hide it. it wasn't logical, but he was humiliated to be seen crying like this. It didn't matter that he just had an anxiety attack in front of him. It seemed like topping it all off with this blatant sign of weakness was just inacceptable.

He couldn't move away though.

Sensing him tensing and, as always, reading him like an open book, Seto quickly moved with him, wrapping both his arms around him and pulling him close.

Yami struggled for a few seconds, trying to pull away, but Seto wouldn't let him.

"Shhhh, Yami… calm down. It's alright," he said, once again his tone firm but just an octave or two lower than before.

Yami stopped moving but remained tense, his eyes still closed tightly. He didn't think he was able to stomach the look he was surely going to find on Seto's face. He was weak. He was weak! It drove him mad with anger. He couldn't believe that now after so many years… at this age, he was still thrown into attacks of anxiety and fits of tears because someone moved too quickly or words were spoken too loudly. He felt himself shaking again, this time with rage at the humiliation of it all.

Seto's hands were on his own suddenly. His long fingers snaked between his trembling ones. Yami felt him leaning closer and soon, he felt the soft lips that had lulled him to sleep with declarations of love last night…that woke him up the same way today morning, he felt them brushing at the wetness on his face. He held his already erratic breath at the action, his eyes sliding open in shock.

"It's alright…" it was a whisper now. The words collided with his wet skin, raising the hairs on his skin and he blinked. "This is alright, Yami…I'm here. Let it out if and when you want."

The anger bled away sluggishly. It left behind a tired mess. The shock at the tears faded away and he surrendered to them, letting them go for now and worrying about how right or wrong the decision to do so later.

They didn't speak of it after that. They didn't speak of it as Seto helped him up into his room, assisting him with taking off his shoes and letting him crawl into his bed and pulling the covers on him. He spoke nothing more of the topic to him and did exactly what Yami wanted for the moment. He left him curled beneath the covers, alone with his tears and his wounded pride, and didn't say anything of the matter. He didn't mention it at all when he returned to his suite—which Yami realized upon waking was Seto's—to find him still in bed in the now-dark room and looking out of the window.

The day's activities were over, Seto told him in calm, even tones as he sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down slightly and cocking his head so he could stare directly into Yami's eyes. He asked him if he was feeling better and Yami stayed silent for a few moments, thinking of what to say. Eventually, he decided to nod, adding that he was just feeling a bit exhausted and a tiny bit hungry.

"Let's get room service to send us something to eat. I don't feel up to going anywhere right now," Seto told him. Yami nodded again in agreement, filled with a rush of gratefulness at the way Seto just…understood him.

He sighed as he pulled himself upright in bed, swinging his legs over the side. He sat there in silence as he listened to Seto speaking on the phone in low tones, most probably ordering their food. His mind drifted and he started thinking of all the things he missed by holing up in bed and hiding like he did. He supposed it was a stupid thing to wallow in sorrow over, considering the day's events, but he would rather cling to that than try to think of anything else.

Seto walked into the room once again, undoing the buttons of his shirt. Yami watched him in silence. He had a closed, unreadable expression on his face and he kept silent as he took it off and draped it over the chair in the room. He kept quiet throughout it all, until he entered the bathroom and Yami could hear the shower running.

Yami blinked and looked down at his feet, feeling self conscious and a lot more stupid all of a sudden.

What was he doing? Why was he still here, sitting there being pathetic? Why was he burdening someone else, who clearly didn't sign up for any of his excess baggage, with his problems? There was no wonder Seto was so quiet and glum.

He quietly got up, ignoring the ache in his joints and crookedly put his shoes on. he brushed his hair back from his face, cringing ever-so-slightly at the stickiness that crusted his face uncomfortably. He let himself out quietly, keeping his head down and making his way to his own suite, letting himself in with automatic, disconnected motions.

He took off his clothes, throwing them sloppily wherever they landed and went into the bathroom in just his underwear. He washed his face, avoiding looking into the mirror when a careless glance at it when he first entered the bathroom. He looked frightening, to be honest and he could understand why Seto was acting like he was. There was nothing to be said to this wraith, nothing worth looking at.

He dried his face, digging out a pair of soft cotton pants and he slipped them on. His hand rose up to his hair to free his locks from the hair tie loosely holding them. He cringed slightly, his fingers massaging his hurting scalp and uselessly trying to drive the tension away from his head.

He was just walking back inside his room when loud knocking came at his door.

He considered ignoring it…then decided that that would be just plain rude. Because he knew Seto was on the other side of the door.

He opened the door, looking up at the blue eyes staring down at him. there was a mixture of concern, anger and worry swirling in them and he tiredly asked, "What is it?"

"What is it? What is it? You left without even telling me," Seto heatedly said, scowling down at him heavily, the anger growing in his eyes and his words. "Do you even know how many scenarios I've thought of as I came from my room at the end of the hall to yours?"

"I assumed you would figure out I've come here…which you did," Yami dismissively said, leaning on the door's frame.

Seto seethed. "You worried me!"

Yami scowled back, "I apologize. I seem to be doing that quite a lot today, even though I think you are overreacting. Now go back to your own suite, Seto, and stop worrying. I am fine and there is no need to lose your head over it."

He moved to close the door but Seto placed his hand on it, stopping him from doing so.

"What the hell is your problem? Are you crazy?" he snapped.

"If you just came to yell at me outside the door, then I suggest you leave," Yami snapped back, opening the door a slight bit to release Seto's push on it, then pushing it to try and close it once again.

And once again, Seto placed his hand on it as well as his foot. Then, he took a step forward, nudging Yami into the suite once again, taking hold of the door and getting in and closing it behind him. "We're inside now."

"If you are here to yell, inside or outside the door, it's still the same thing, so kindly leave," Yami hissed at him.

"I am not here to yell at you, you idiot! What the hell is the matter with you? Why did you leave, I thought we were going to have dinner together," Seto pressed, the scowl on his face still quite impressive.

Yami ignored him and walked away.

He half expected the brunet to grab him by the arm and physically stop him. He was left with a mixture of unpleasant sensations when that didn't happen, guilt right at the top of it all, especially as he realized how much of a child he was being, as he heard the sharp, long-suffering sound of inhaling of breath Seto made to calm himself down, because apparently, this was exactly what he wanted to do given how irrational Yami was being. Yet, he controlled himself enough to stop himself from doing that.

"I know what you are doing…" it came from behind him with a soft tone that he didn't expect at all.

He turned.

Seto looked as if he was speaking to himself, more than he was speaking to Yami, who stood beside the entrance to his bedroom, ashamed of himself and the way he was acting towards the person least deserving of this treatment.

"I know that this is your reaction to what happened today, to meeting him and what happened afterwards. I know you have some stupid thought that you are in some way or another not allowed to react the way you did. Or at least you think that I think so. And I just want to tell you that you are wrong."

Yami opened his mouth to speak.

"Please Yami…" Seto raised his voice again, cutting him off quite effectively. Yami looked at him in silence, defensively crossing his arms in front of his chest. The brunet stepped closer, adding, "Please…I understand this is difficult for you. And I know that if I had been in your position, I'd turn prickly very quickly. But please…this is not the right time for your goddamn pride to act up."

Yami narrowed his eyes, the words rubbing him the wrong way and his temper flaring again. "Oh? It's not? Well, let me just tell you this isn't pride and you are the one who is wrong. I just don't want to worry you, so please…" he gestured with his hand towards the door, "Just go back to your room, I will let you know when everything's fine again so you won't have to worry ab…"

It was apparent that Seto could not control himself enough not to touch him this time. He raised his hands, wrapping the slender fingers securely around his upper arms, shaking him firmly.

"Why are you denying yourself this right? To have someone to worry for you?"

Yami blinked up at him. His own fingers wrapped around Seto's arm and he was holding on with more force than he was aware of. He kept silent. He felt himself grow distant as the words rang out in his ears. Was he doing that, really?

"Do you still think that I just want you for the fun of it?"

Yami once again opened his mouth for a few moments, contemplating denying it. He thought of saying that that wasn't it at all. That how could Seto say such things to him. but he pursed his lips and stayed silent for a while, averting his eyes from the desperate, angry blue ones.

"This is not it…" he whispered, looking at the edge of one of the armchairs in his room, avoiding the piercing gaze settled on him, reading him so easily, like an open book.

And he decided, that since Seto was just so good at understanding him…he might as well just be honest.

"I really don't want you to worry…" he looked up at him again, a tired expression settling on his face as he added, "You didn't sign up for this…I…" he swallowed thickly against the lump suddenly lodged in the back of his throat, making his voice break embarrassingly. "I…" he tried to speak again. To his mortification, his voice cracked again and a humiliating burn pricked at the corners of his eyes.

He swallowed convulsively once again, taking a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips, physically willing himself not to cry knowing that he was not going to take the humiliation of it happening twice in one day.

Once he was sure he had pulled himself together, at least for the moment, he reopened his eyes and spoke, "This is my problem…I do not want to drag you into it. I will be fine. You've…you've done enough. I don't want you to…" his voice was getting lower with every word he spoke, until he paused…the last bit coming out even lower than a whisper. A mere breath that he let out, the words coming against his conscious will, "I don't want you to get tired of my drama…"

Seto swore under his breath.

Yami stood miserably, looking at his feet after he felt Seto's hands fall away from their hold on him. He hung his head, staring at his bare feet buried in the lush carpet, feeling defeated, tired… he just wanted to curl up and die.

He was contemplating how to get out of this situation when he felt Seto stepping closer to him again. He was just looking up to meet his eyes to see what he wanted from him when he felt himself engulfed within a pair of strong arms, pulled closer to a familiar broad chest and wrapped tightly in the scent that was so uniquely Seto, he instinctively found his tense muscles relaxing after exactly two seconds of freezing up in shock.

The amazed expression lingered in his eyes, however, as he stood there. The sensation was foreign. The feel of arms around him, of a strong shoulder which he could bury his face against, the beating of another human's heart so close to his ear… it was an alien sensation. He could not remember the last time he was held in this context. He could not remember. Sure…he had fallen asleep in Seto's arms yesterday, but that was in the afterglow of sex.

But to be held…frantic, uneasy, scared…unsure like he was at the moment…?

That was new.

Against his will, he felt the vicious lump rising again in his throat and the burn of his eyes returning. He squeezed his eyes shut very tightly. He let out a breath of air when he felt the hotness slipping out of their corners, admitting defeat and losing the battle that he was so desperately fighting. He raised his arms, holding on to Seto's desperately. Now that the tears defeated him, he was letting all of them out, keeping his face buried into Seto's shoulder, hiding it from view.

A pathetic part of him noted that it really was the first time he had a 'shoulder to cry on'. Even during the most desperate times…the darkest of hours during his hospital stay in his fourth year with his arm cut wide open, during the most difficult moments in his residency and the most painful parts of his relationship with Bakura… usually he sat in some dark corner by himself, licking his own wounds privately and if he cried, he would make sure no one saw it. He and Yugi were raised disconnected from physical touch and emotional support. They grew up with the idea that men didn't cry drilled into their heads so deeply, it was a shame to do so. They knew that if it happened, no one must know. And if it happened, then they should not bother anyone with their whining, their weakness.

And as with everything Seto did… he destroyed these concepts. Concepts that have been deeply rooted in him that they became an integral part of who…what he is. They were all brought to rubble at his feet, leaving him shocked and confused.

He felt one of the familiar hands rising to the back of his head, the arm still wrapped around him tightening, pulling him closer. His chest felt tight, but not like before. It was a good sensation for a change. He gasped once, savoring the sensation, opening his eyes and blinking the remainder of his tears away.

He felt calmer. Better. He melted against the body before him, breathing deeply and regularly, knowing that the worst of it was now over and there were no more breakdowns coming on soon.

It seemed like Seto felt the same way. He spoke.

"This is our problem now…"

Yami stepped back a fraction and looked up at him. He could feel the shock drawn clear on his features.

"I will not get tired of your drama, as you call it." Determined, sure. Firm. Yami stared up at him, stunned. "Do not think, for one second, that anything you will tell me, show me… will ever make me tired of you. I am not a child, Yami. Nor am I a coward. You are not a doll to be played with and kept away. Please do not think of yourself that way…"

"I don't…" Yami started protesting.

Seto shook his head, "Telling me that this isn't what I signed up for is either saying that I am using you for sex and good times, then putting you away, or saying that you are undeserving of someone to stand with you when you need them to. And since you said that it wasn't the first…then it must be the second."

He raised a hand to Yami's wet face, wiping away the moisture there carefully and tenderly. He leaned forward, placing his lips on his forehead for a few seconds in which Yami felt his heart stopping, then moved back.

"I'm here, Yami… and I want you. Fantastic blowjobs and excess baggage as you call it. I want it all."

He smiled at the naughty expression playing around in Seto's eyes. A watery smile that he was sure that if he looked in the mirror at any other moments other than now, he would probably shrivel up with embarrassment at the way his face was tear-streaked, his nose running and his general look quite pathetic.

But for now…?

For now he pushed all of those thoughts to the back of his mind, his smile turning grateful, wider, easier…and he leaned forward again, letting Seto once again pull him into his arms and letting the last worries for the frankly horrible day fade.

tbc...