Bows of Promise

Chapter Eighteen

Seto found him still curled up by the wall some time later.

He wasn't sure how long had passed. Bakura had kissed the top of his tousled head, sending shivers down his spine, then left him. The sound of the door closing after his departure seemed to echo forever off the walls of the small room. He didn't move. He didn't think he could move. He remained where he was, legs uselessly bent beneath him, back against the wall and head hanging down so his hair –now almost completely undone from the tie that held it up into a ponytail—shadowed his face.

He sat detached, numb. His will to even breathe at the moment seemed to have left him and he wished he could just become one with the wall, insignificant, or perhaps curl up and die. He was crying. He didn't know if it was the delayed shock of Bakura's violence or if it was the response to his words or just anger at the feeling of stupidity that was washing over him in waves. He had forgotten that he told Seto he would meet him in the lobby.

It was how he found him.

There were hurried knocks on the door for a few moments. He ignored them. He sat in the same position until someone was pulling at him, calling his name with a worried, shocked tone of voice.

He blinked and looked up. Seto was crouched down in front of him. Yami stared with an empty expression at him, all of Bakura's words coming back to him, one after the other. He wanted to ask so many questions and voice so many thoughts all at once. His tongue was heavy in his mouth and he felt paralyzed. He ended up staying silent as he stared back at him, quiet.

A distant part of his mind detachedly noted the horror in the blue eyes. It was a new expression that he never saw before and he wondered what brought it on.

A few seconds later, he found out. Seto raised his hand to his face. Yami flinched slightly, but he continued undeterred, holding Yami's face up by the chin with one hand, the other positioned on his eyebrow, pulling it up with his thumb slightly, brushing an area above his eyelid for a moment, then coming away to reveal the unmistakable redness of blood and increasing the burn he had been feeling in the area tenfold.

He cringed, pulling away from the painful touch.

"What happened! Who did this?" Seto asked. Demanded.

Yami stayed silent.

"Yami, what happened?" he repeated the question firmly, snapping something at a stranger standing behind him. Something about some water, a napkin or a tissue…

Yami didn't say anything until Seto turned back to him. Once again, his hands were on him, gently shaking him slightly.

Yami blinked and forced himself to respond. This was familiar. This was a situation he found himself in many times before. He could do this. He straightened slightly, pushing away from the wall. Seto helped him, once more repeating his question, asking what happened, who did this…

He thought of telling him what happened. He thought of being honest, like he usually was with whatever Seto asked him. He thought of explaining, or perhaps asking for explanations. But he didn't have the courage or the energy to deal with all of that right now.

And so, he did something practiced and familiar. Replied with an answer that rolled off his tongue with ease and fluency.

"I fell."

He closed himself off from anything else after that. He knew that if he tried saying anything else, the shock of having to use this excuse again would send him tumbling into an embarrassing fit of tears or hysterics and he couldn't stomach that thought right now. He was aware of Seto not buying it. He was aware of the suspicious, angry look on Seto's features. The recognition in the blue eyes at the reason he gave for his injury, the implication of Yami using it with him. He didn't press for any other explanations for now, however. He was too busy arguing that they should go to a hospital but Yami refused, speaking once only since his 'I fell' phrase to firmly say 'no' to Seto's suggestion.

He stood washing the blood off his face in the hotel's bathroom, examining the damage as Seto stood behind him fighting him about it. He ignored him, looking closely at the tiny cut on the tiny area right above the outer corner of his eye and just beneath the end of his eyebrow. It was very small, but he knew the area was highly vascular and that was why the entire side of his face and down to the collar of his shirt was drenched in blood that was drying to a disgusting brownish crust, except for the areas where the slowing flow of blood was still trailing. He knew that within hours, the entire area would be a myriad of black, blue, green and yellow, blending into the pale, sallow skin.

He detached himself from his companion, leaving him to rave and rant and cajole him into going to a hospital. He didn't want to go anywhere or do anything other than returning back to his room to lock himself there and rest for a while, then waking up to pack his things and booking an early flight back to Domino. This entire conference had been a bad idea and the very opposite of any positive thoughts he had about it at first.

He strode with steady steps towards the elevators, holding a tissue tightly to his eye, hoping that the pressure would be enough to slow down the bleeding until he reached his room to make use of the ice-maker sitting in the bar. Seto was following him, desperation painting his words now, asking him to at least speak to him, say something.

Yami turned around just as they stopped in front of the elevators. Without even knowing how and why, he calmly spoke. His voice was low, his gaze steady and his tone sure. He had no idea where he got this composure as he talked.

"I need to be alone for a few hours please."

Seto took a small step back. His hands settled by his side and he looked like he was trying hard not to look hurt and failing miserably. He looked like he wanted to argue, or perhaps ask him something, but decided to purse his lips, nod abruptly and turn around to walk away.

Yami turned back as well, closing his eyes for a few moments and breathing away the ache that was maddeningly reverberating through his chest and the nausea rolling through him ever since Bakura left him. He got into the elevator, reached his floor and entered his room. He made an icepack with frightening ease, placing it on his injured face, sucking in a deep breath at the familiar sting that he couldn't ever get used to.

He sat for hours in front of the window. His legs were tucked beneath him on the armchair, eyes staring unseeingly at the Tokyo skyline. He sat sorting through things with difficulty.

His thoughts were jumbled, jumping between defending the lover who proved himself time and again to him and the self-doubt that ate at him, bringing back all the insecurities Seto had laid to rest ages ago, but Bakura reawakened with the information he told him.

Bakura wasn't exactly someone he trusted so much that he took his words for face value. He was manipulative, evil and a bad person, in general. And Yami wasn't an idiot to believe that Bakura was just there 'as a messenger' as he so politely described it. He wasn't giving this information out of the goodness of his heart… or for Yami's sake, trying to protect him or anything. He knew that Bakura's motives weren't noble.

But on the other hand…

He forced himself to think with another perspective and that was when things really started making sense, somewhat.

Everything suddenly fit into place. Seto's mysterious interest in him the second he started work, the patience he treated him with and the frankly baffling way with which he had the right thing to say, the correct thing to do around him. The way he dealt with his shit mental state and the shit attitude he, Yami, was known for. He knew that he was a difficult person. Prickly and strange and aggressive. And too plain in every other aspect to compensate for these eccentricities. Seto's patience was strange. The effort he put into trying to 'court him' as he was so fond of calling it, was phenomenal.

The thought came back to him.

No one went to such measures to lure someone into their bed.

But for securing a position as head of a surgery department as prestigious as theirs? And years younger than usual?

People went farther than that, even.

A small part niggled at him, wondering if Jou was in on this. Then he admonished himself, horrified that he was already taking Bakura's words for face value, already treating them as the truth. But if they really weren't the truth… why else would Seto have started flirting with him the moment he arrived? He had to be objective and slow down a little, detaching himself from the heady rush of falling head over heels for him and wonder about the strangeness that even before having a full proper conversation, Seto had started flirting with him. It was very strange and Yami had pinned it on the rumors he heard of the brunet, letting it pass without second thought.

But now that he thought of it, it was a bit strange.

His thoughts were still in a mess when there was hurried knocks at his door. He looked at the entrance to the suite, but stayed where he was. He glanced down at his watch, noting with the slight surprise that his current mental state allowed him, that it was past ten-thirty at night.

The rapid sequence of knocks came once again, this time more urgent than the one before it.

He sighed and got up. He opened the door and walked back to sit in his place on the armchair, letting Seto get inside and shut the door behind him. he wasn't sure why he did that. He didn't have anything to say to Seto right now, to be honest. He didn't imagine how whatever it is Seto was going to ask was going to be answered, or what was going to happen at all and how he would react. He didn't think he even had the ability to speak just yet.

Once again, he tucked his legs beneath him and resolutely stared ahead.

Seto took a place on the armchair next to him in front of the window.

And they both stayed silent.

Yami leaned his head against the back of the chair, staring at the lights filtering through the window. He kept silent, not trusting himself to start a conversation or acknowledge Seto's almost-physical gaze on him. He waited for Seto to start the conversation and then see what—and if— he had anything to say as a reply.

And Seto did not disappoint.

"Did Bakura do this?"

Yami turned his head to look at him. he studied the handsome expressions as they slowly changed from calm to angry and horrified. He gave no outward reaction as the brunet got up and approached him, swearing under his breath as he closely examined the side of his face. Yami knew that it was now swollen, bruised and generally plain ugly. He watched closely as Seto got up to head towards the bar, dishing out some ice cubes from the machine with the shovel placed there and returning again to place some of the cubes on the towel Yami had been using for that same purpose hours ago. He made a pack and raised it to Yami's face.

Yami was still watching him closely. He watched for signs of deception. He searched for evidence that Seto's efforts were just pretension.

In his silence and observation, he came to the same two frustrating conclusions and one of them had to be the truth. Either Bakura was lying to him and in that case, he wondered why go to such efforts to do that, since really… his ex-lover didn't even seem interested in getting him back or anything like that. Why then would he try to cause a rift between him and his present lover? And how is he in contact with Pegasus and knew of those elections taking place next week? And if it was out of spite…who would go to such measures?

The other conclusion was just too horrible to think of but just as plausible since he was an idiot. Always was and he supposed he always will be an idiot… And that was the possibility that Seto was a very good actor.

He flinched at the touch of the cold pack to his face. It had been throbbing and he didn't even notice. Neither did he notice the headache pounding on that side of his head, or the way he was almost catatonic, not answering any of the questions Seto was asking or acknowledging anything he was saying, until he found the brunet shining a flashlight in his eyes, starting a neurological assessment that Yami recognized with ease.

"I'm fine, Seto. It's ten-thirty in the evening, we're at the hotel for the conference," he dismissed, completing the rest of the assessment with ease. His voice felt so unused, so foreign to him and he almost, almost cringed.

Seto sat back on his haunches in front of the armchair, a relieved look on his face. "You weren't answering me. I thought I'd check."

Yami shrugged.

Silence hung over them again.

"Is it?"

He frowned in confusion.

Seto impatiently repeated, "Is it Bakura who did it?"

Yami snorted derisively. "Why do you want to know?"

Seto blinked. "What do you mean why do you want to know? So I can bash his stupid face in, of course."

Once again, Yami shook his head scathingly, averting his eyes away to look out of the window after rolling them in incredulity.

"What the hell does that mean?"

The anger in Seto's voice, the way he sounded affronted, skeptical; like he didn't understand what was going on, caused anger to bubble like lava within Yami. Unconsciously, he found himself raising an eyebrow, looking straight into Seto's eyes head on, scathingly biting back, "Did you so vehemently defend me while happily chatting with him about me two days ago?"

"What?" Seto asked, confused.

Yami rolled his eyes again and got up. Seto rose to his feet as well.

"Did you or did you not talk to him that day you first saw him here?" he asked.

"I don't understa…"

"The second day of the conference, Seto… after you left me here and went downstairs. Did you meet Bakura down there again and did you two talk?" he clarified, feeling impatience growing within him at the way his mind translated Seto's confusion as dishonesty. Deep down, he knew he was jumping to conclusions in an alarming, disturbing manner. That he should slow down. He was heading down a path that would ruin a lot of things if he didn't slow down…

Seto scowled, "What has that got to do with anything, Yami?"

Yami crossed his arms, "Just answer the question, Seto."

Seto was silent for a few moments, in which Yami's heart sluggishly thudded in his ears as he waited for an answer. "Yes… I found him waiting for me at the entrance to the hall, actually. I tried to leave him and walk away, but he was very persistent. Trailed me all over the place, actually," he said, finally. A closed look was crawling onto his features and Yami, with his hyper-perception of every change in his surroundings and with how that habit of noticing everything turned up to its maximum with how doubtful Bakura left him, he could clearly see the unease rolling off in waves off Seto's frame.

He was silent at the admission. He wanted to know what he was going to do with it. His heart was still racing sickeningly and in tandem with it the throbbing headache he had and the dull aching pain, the tenderness on his face, all increased with his heartbeat. A part of him wanted to stop the conversation at this. To not try and pry more than this, fearing the answer, the progression of the exchange about to take place…fearing his own reactions and the lack of control he had on himself.

"What did he say to you?" he found himself asking in a low tone.

"I don't think he had anything of value to say, Yami," Seto dismissed.

Yami seethed, "Really? Do you think I don't know what he told you? Do you think I am stupid?"

"No, Yami, I don't think you're stupid. Let me ask you, though… if you know what he said, why are you asking, Yami? Do you want me to repeat to you what he said to me? I don't think that that is something you'd want to hear coming from me," Seto bit back sharply.

Yami uncrossed his arms. "You will not assume what I want to hear and what I don't want to hear, Seto."

His voice rose. He could feel aggression and his quick temper making itself known and a part of him tried warning him to keep himself under control, but he was finding it too difficult at the moment.

It was silenced cruelly by the very same magnitude of mounting rage he was trying to get under control when he found Seto's eyes growing cold and annoyed as well, raising an eyebrow and raising his hand to point at him, snapping back, "And you will not give yourself the right to speak to me like that if you won't explain to me what this is about, Yami. With all due respect, I am just trying to help and be there for you. Don't take out the frustration that once again you let that asshole get to you on me."

Yami saw red.

"Let him get to me? Let him?" he half-shrieked, his voice rising beyond what was considered acceptable. The words pissed him off and he could do nothing about the rage that surged through him at them, at the way the brunet was being ignorant and just saying all the wrong things at the wrong time. His eyes narrowed and sucked in a quick breath. He decided not to even discuss this phrase any more; it didn't deserve any more of his attention and such stupidity spouting from Seto's lips didn't deserve further discussion. "Answer the goddamned question, Seto… what did he say to you?" he paused for a heartbeat. Then he added, "And what did you say to him?"

Seto narrowed his eyes, "No…Yami, let me ask you the same question…what did he say to you today?"

Yami snorted, "He was about to say something about you today and I jumped to your defense. It's why I 'let the asshole get to me'; I was playing some knight in shining armor and defending your honor or something equally idiotic in my head, when he flipped out on me for putting him in his place. Something you didn't think necessary to do for me while chatting with him about all the nastiness of our relationship all those years back."

"So that is what he said to you today? He told you that he was mouthing you off and I didn't say anything in your defense?" Seto bit viciously back at him, an incredulous look on his features.

"He said plenty more, Seto…" Yami told him, narrowing his eyes. "And I am surely living up to his words, aren't I?" he added the last part almost musingly to himself. "He is right, isn't he? Isn't that what you're thinking right now? Isn't that what you were thinking that day itself when you came back here? Pathetic and weak, unable to face a brute like that and hiding up in your room like a little kid. Because I let him get to me, as you so colorfully described it right now. Or wait…is that why you didn't even bother saying anything in my defense? You've left me here a wreck…no wonder you had nothing to say. You think he's right!"

Silence hung over the room after his tirade.

It was too late to stop himself anymore. His temper flared, it was too late to try and douse it with anything other than more fuel. His already frazzled nerves with the unexpected appearance of Bakura, with the encounter from today morning, the doubt already gnawing at his insides ever since the very beginning of this…relationship with Seto.

He was picking for a fight. He knew it. He had feebly attempted to stop himself, pace his words out, make them less abrasive and aggressive…but he had failed.

His breathing had quickened and his hands were shaking from where they were hanging at his sides. He knew his eyes were narrowed in a terrible glare, one that not a lot of people tolerated, not a lot of people knew how to deal with. It was far too late to avoid this awful clash. It was far too late to try and pretend in front of himself, before Seto, that Bakura's words hadn't completely gotten to him. It was far too late for handling this pleasantly. He had dived in too early, before calming down enough. And now he had to see this through to the end.

The angry, frustrated…betrayed part of him stubbornly retorted that it was alright.

Let the confrontation take place.

"Is there anything else he said to you today, Yami?"

Seto face was once again closed off by an unreadable expression. The tone of his voice was quiet. It was calm and firm, sectored off from the anger previously lacing his words.

Yami scowled.

"I have a lot of questions, Seto… and I think you are obligated to answer them," he declared.

Seto met his eyes head on, no sign of cowardice or backing away in them. He knew this was it and that this was where he should ask his questions. He was hurt. He was confused. He wanted answers. And he wasn't going to get them unless he asked questions. And he was going to ask them all. And Seto was obviously letting him get everything out before having his say on the matter.

"Am I being 'courted' by you just for the elections coming up next week?"

Seto's eyebrows knit together in a surprised expression. "What are you talking about?"

"You wanted to know what he said to me today morning," Yami started, crossing his arms.

He didn't know if he did it out of need to feel that they weren't hanging so uselessly beside him, or if they formed a protection against the anger, frustration, betrayal he felt surging through him in a flurry of sensations that he was far too old to think he could ever stand feeling again. He felt like a child. Unable to control himself, unable to control the hurt gnawing mercilessly at him from within, unable to control his anger…

"He said that this wouldn't be the first time you start a relationship out of necessity. He said that Kisara had been the dean's daughter, and that's how you skipped the one year before your matching day… he said that it was the same with Jou's sister. Why else would he approve your PhD earlier than usual? And Ziegfried's da Vinci robotic lookalike's prototype?"

Silence hung over the room thick and cloying.

Yami knew that his gaze was hard, his glare too intense. His words too cutting and blunt.

But there was no way to have finesse around this topic.

"You asked what he said to me today. And there you have it," Yami snapped. His eyes, even to him, felt too hard with the glare he was directing at the brunet who stood staring expressionlessly at him. "I've asked you what he said to you about me… and I've asked you what you said back to him. You refused to answer me and gave yourself the right to demand knowing what happened today… so here you have it, Seto. That's exactly what he said. I want an explanation."

There was no sounds in the room at all. Only the very distant, almost faint sounds of traffic that reached the sickening fifty-something floors of the hotel. They were only heard because there was absolute silence in the enclosure around them. it was the only other sounds that Yami's hyperawareness could fathom, other than his harsh breaths and the beating of his heart in his ears.

"He said that to you today?" Seto asked him.

Yami's eyes narrowed a bit more.

"Yes… right after letting me know that you had nothing to say in my defense when he described to you in vivid detail just how damaged I am…"

The silence in the room stretched for a few more moments.

"And you believed him…?"

The question was spoken with such serenity… there was a mixture of quietness and curiosity in it. there was a hint of something else that felt like a kick to Yami's gut. There was a tiny hint of blame and disbelief in the words, as if Seto couldn't fathom the obviously affirmative answer to an obviously rhetorical question that didn't even deserve an answer, because it was obvious what Yami's answer would be even if was just as obvious what it should have been.

The phrase, the inquiry sounded to Yami like a verbal slap on the face.

He froze. He opened his mouth, then realized that he had nothing to say and this was not the question to which he could reply with an impulsive answer. He had to force himself to function as an adult. He had to step back and think. Think, for God's sake. Just think!

"You believed him…" Seto wasn't done, it was obvious. Apparently, he too was having trouble keeping his own temper in check. "You give yourself the right to throw his accusations in my face without bothering to ask me first…"

"What am I doing right now, then?" Yami hissed at him, all thoughts of self-control and rationality disappearing, defensiveness taking its place at the accusation Seto was throwing at him. Rightfully throwing at him, a tiny part of his mind supplied, but his pride forced it to shut up.

Seto raised his voice several octaves as he replied, "Don't fool yourself… you're not asking me, Yami. You've already taken his words as the absolute truth. It's why you're throwing them back in my face. This is exactly what I didn't want to do to you. Apparently, you have no qualms telling me exactly what he said to you."

"I need an explanation. And you will provide one, Seto," Yami growled out in low tones, his arms falling to his sides again, shaking hands bunched into fists beside him.

"Why should I? Why must I provide one? The way you repeated his words without even pausing to doubt a single one of them just tells me that whatever I say in my defense won't be good enough. And I do not make it a habit to walk around giving excuses and denying rumors."

"Are they all rumors?" Yami asked. Challenged. Stupidly and not willing to back down and being plain stupid in general by being his usual aggressive self, raising the ante and not knowing just when to stop.

"Now you're so interested in asking, Yami?" Seto scoffed at him, his turn to raise his arms and cross them defensively in front of his chest. "Let me ask you and give you a little taste of what you did to me just now… Bakura said that you used him to obtain your master's, stealing all the stabbed-chest cases on which you based your degree from him… that you were going to do the same with me for the thesis we are working together on."

Yami blinked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Seto raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter? You wanted to know what Bakura said about you and there you have it. And this is just one of those things, Yami."

"It's a big load of bullshit," Yami hissed at him.

Seto chuckled bitterly, derisively, "That is exactly what I believe. Without having to hear the confirmation from you."

Yami stayed silent. The affront…the insult to his career. The blatant lie; he felt the frustration of having the work he spent on the most difficult degree he had obtained during his profession belittled, the accusation of unethical conduct, eating at him. He could feel the niggle of guilt gnawing at him at Seto's words and the quiet voice that started scolding him well and good for doing the same with the brunet, but not just with only one of his degrees, but his entire career, starting with the specialty choice, through the PhD journey and ending with the crowning jewel of his work, the paper he published with pioneering technology unavailable to and unexplored by most surgeons in the field.

"Kisara was the dean's daughter. But we've started dating after the matching day, Yami. Six months after it, actually. I had spoken to the hospital administration to get them to offer an extra spot for me and used the excuse that I started med-school later than my peers," Seto spoke quietly.

Yami realized what he was doing and he suddenly didn't want to take part in this argument that he had started, that he had dug up and sought after because he was still a foolish little kid without control over his emotions and without common sense not to take the words of an abusive ex-lover over the words of someone who showed him more kindness and love than all the people he met in his life altogether.

"Shizuka was Jou's sister…but it's not why he approved my PhD to get through to the committee supervising it sooner than expected. It was because he found out Pegasus plagiarized his own thesis from a French paper and the department's reputation would have been tarnished if such information got out. If no thesis was submitted that year, people would have dug around to find out why and it would have come out to the open such a medical-ethics issue. It's even part of the reason why Jou became head of department before him even though they're both the same age…"

Yami remained silent. He listened. And as he listened, he knew that he might have made a mistake. No… he actually did make a mistake.

"Zigfried offered his company's technologies to me at the start of our relationship. It was part of the support he was offering at first. I wasn't about to turn him down. My paper was completed months before I decided to leave him. And I will say it again, Yami, in terms clearer. I did not leave Zigfried because my need for him was gone. I left him because he was emotionally draining me and I couldn't continue in such an abusive relationship. It was not because I was done with my paper."

Yami looked away. Seto's expression was no longer closed and unreadable. The raw emotion in his blue eyes seemed to burn Yami alive and he couldn't meet the intense gaze. Weak and useless, he looked away, unable to meet those eyes and too proud to admit his mistake to simply show aggression before trying to understand. He pushed aside any excuses of being unstable and unable to think clearly. He was supposed to be an adult. He was supposed to have more control of himself than this…

"I dismissed Bakura's accusations and refused to acknowledge them, Yami… because I trust you. I knew that whatever shit he had to say about you isn't true. From what you told me about him, I know that he isn't exactly a reliable source of information. The way he spoke of you…" Seto paused. He took a deep breath, his blue eyes shutting for a few seconds, as if to calm himself down. "The way he spoke of you, the way he made light of everything you've gone through…it was more than enough to negate any need to discuss his accusations with you. I don't need his words to tell me what I needed to know about you. I only needed what I saw for myself in you, through my own eyes."

Yami felt heat rising to the back of his neck. He felt stupid. He knew that he had ruined everything with his rashness and his poor insight, poor control of himself.

"Apparently the feeling isn't mutual, Yami."

Seto wasn't done yet. He was still speaking, his words level and calm and Yami almost wished he would yell, lose control of the phenomenal temper the brunet had, but it was obvious that, as usual, Seto was several steps ahead of him with maturity and finesse that he would live for ages before dreaming of possessing.

"I understand that no matter how hard you try to deny it, that you do have trust issues, but there is nothing to be done about it if you won't admit it to yourself before me that you do have them. I will only tell you that I can only say so much to convince you of something I've already said to you several times and repeated it even if you did not answer me back…"

Yami looked up to meet the blue eyes. The blue eyes that held his gaze for a few moments; hurt, angry, sad…a myriad of horrible emotions that Yami knew he was responsible for. He then looked away, moving towards the abandoned icepack and walking towards him once again. he watched him in silence, not replying; having nothing to say.

"I love you. I've said it many times before, Yami… and it won't change. But I will not stay where my feelings aren't met or welcome. Do keep that in mind."

Then, gently, he placed the pack on the side of his face, his touches still tender and unchanged. Carefully, he pressed it against the throbbing mess on his features. With very gentle touches, as if he was dealing with something very fragile, very breakable. He reached for Yami's hand, raising it to hold it to the icepack.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room. Good night, Yami…" he said and stepped past him, heading towards the door, opening it and leaving him standing in his place, unmoving and unable to do anything except staying frozen in place.

tbc…