Author's Rant: My apologies for this minor late update. Please enjoy.
Subtle Urge
Both of the gang leaders were arrogant and foolish.
That was Zigfried's sole thought as he witnessed the very evidence of their ignorance through the tinted backseat window of Pegasus's black 2010 Hyundai Equus Limousine. Not even with his partner's arm wrapped securely around his neck, keeping him fastened in place, could Zigfried's animosity towards the T.O.G. and O.G, dampen.
Pegasus felt the slip of warm leave his chest as Zigfried leaned forward to stare angrily out the window, fingers clenched like handcuffs. No amount of comfort would deter Zigfried from what was obviously written all over his face; his prejudice towards gangs.
Right now, he was keeping a close eye on the leaders' interaction in the Domino High School parking lot, merely talking for now and possibly plotting a new means of growing their disgusting clan. There were students stored within those bricks, stuffed like sardines ready to be opened and soiled of their innocence. Zigfried saw the danger for what it was. He knew what could, no, he knew what would eventually happen.
Zigfried could have told his lover over and over the predictions, his theories and probabilities of the city's future and the years of suffering to remain, but Pegasus didn't see the danger the way Zigfried did. There hadn't been a civilian killed in nearly five years by gang violence since the Medium's development, but who's to say the statistics were true? The police could no longer be trusted, since time and time again their allegiance to the government has been compromised numerous times, and there have been alleged connections between both gangs.
That provided a good enough excuse for Zigfried and Pegasus to team together and become one of the growing powers involved with taking control of the violence. They both had power. They both had national support from rivaling peace supporters and a secretive smuggling organization used to acquire weapons so powerful and deadly, it would spin the Yami and Atem's heads for eons.
Atem and Yami knew better than to overpower the Mediums. They've both tried and failed numerous time, and neither were going to bother losing so many of their own again. Cracking down on the blue and red bloods has gained the respect of Mediums from the city dwellers, and granted the Mediums with ample power to control the gangs by only a large margin.
At any given time, if a civil war were to break forth, it would be disastrous. Domino City went through such an event only six years prior. Property damage reached record millions, murders had escalated beyond the state's average and most of them were innocent bystanders.
Zigfried remembered the exact number of deaths. He remembered the exact number of the badly injured. Three thousand two hundred and forty six injuries, six hundred and ninety four deaths and over five hundred and twenty four millions dollars' worth of city damage. He remembered how on that same day he'd watched his younger brother gunned down before his very eyes and shot like a dog.
And it'd only been because he was wearing a red t-shirt when he went to buy a candy bar from a store owned by the Blue Eye Aces.
Zigfried's baby brother couldn't even receive a proper burial or receive enough visitors to remember who he was. There'd been too many other deaths of friends, lovers and family members to attend too for anyone else to remember.
But Zigfried remembered that day, very much so. And right now, more than anything, he wanted to withdraw his 40 caliber handgun to return the favor.
Pegasus stretched his arms out and lowered his palms to settle neatly on Zigfried's shoulders.
"You're tensing up again," Pegasus said, voice smooth as molasses on polished steel.
Zigfried twisted to look at him with a frown, and a less then angry shine in his eyes. Tense, yes of course he was. The two most notorious criminals were no more than a hundred meters away and as unpredictable as a hurricane path. Anything was liable to pop off, so he would gladly say his anxiety was well within reason.
"We should do something, Max," Zigfried lifted his fingers to braid through the pale ones knitting his right shoulder. "Duke didn't call for us here to merely watch. They could be up to something."
Pegasus chuckled, "I doubt even these two would be so bold as to openly cause a ruckus in the middle of the day." Pegasus tugged back until Zigfried melted into the fold of his chest. "And I've known them since they took over the responsibility as leader for their gangs. I won't hesitate to have the rain brought down on them if a single civilian is harmed."
That wasn't good enough. Zigfriedlifted his hand and laid his fingers along Pegasus' jaw, fingers treading through the strands of silvery white hair, "Why wait, mon amour? They're here, right here. We could take them now, end it all," he whispered. "There could be a permanent peace."
"Not so long as there are three powers to control, dear one," Pegasus patiently explained. "It's hard enough maintaining the parts of the city under my reign. Imagine how much harder it would be to keep balance if we were to kill of the kings of their kingdom?"
"They're not kings," Zigfried's voice hardened. "They're savages. Uncouth as wild dogs, out to hunt for no cause."
Pegasus recognized that tone in his partner's voice. A bit of an impatient edge was what it was. His hatred toward the gangs could melt through titanium and make the devil quake on his throne. Zigfried couldn't understand the way Pegasus chose to run things. It could've been based on their age difference, Pegasus being in his forties and Zigfried barely tip toeing near thirty, as to why they saw through different eyes. Pegasus only saw equal power being the way to rule the city. Zigfried only saw there needing to be just one or none at all. It often led them to clashing until the bitter hours of the night and on those rare occasions, until the break of dawn.
Pegasus embraced Zigfried closer to him and Zigfried went into him after a bit of tugging. "I understand your concern—"
"If you do, then do something about it—"
"But with order comes sacrifices needed to keep peace," Pegasus sharply said. "We've had this conversation enough times for me to recite it backwards, Zigfried. Why do you insist on listening to the same song, same verse?"
Zigfried's fingers paused where they'd been stroking Pegasus' jaw and hair. The hair fell cool as spring water, through his fingers. He didn't want to argue. It was exhausting and left little energy to focus on more important agendas. Zigfried lifted his and Pegasus' braided fingers and touched them to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn.
When he looked up at Pegasus' again, it was to show a deep, dark shine, "It's only because I care, bien-aimé. I must, since I am your conscious. Who else can make you contemplate your decisions before making them?" He proceeded to delicately press softer, feather kisses on their bounded hand.
"That you are," Pegasus let his hands be touched and caressed in a way only he and Zigfried knew he loved. "So, allow me, for the moment, to handle this the way I see fit. If I should happen to appear incapable, by all means interfere."
"That may be sooner than you think. I could never understand your type of logic. It makes no sense to me."
"The only kind of logic I use is fear, which induces respect from them to me. But I concur," Pegasus dramatically sighed. "If it helps you sleep better, I'll have Duke set up a meeting between Yami and Atem, midnight Friday. Will that suffice for better thinking?"
Zigfried nodded, saying nothing more as he pressed closer. This conversation was far from over and so was Zigfried's resolve. Things were far from over. He'd continue thinking as he'd been doing, if his lover wouldn't.
After school practice was a distraction. That's all it was for Yugi because his mind was busily flipping through the files of his confused brain. Never, ever in his entire life, had Yugi felt so deeply wedged between doing what was right and doing what he knew was wrong.
Yugi was leaning against the fence, housing the batting cage, hands in his pockets and eyes rolled shut. Atem, him and Kisara, were going, supposedly, on a date to the Shay Belle, a notoriously elegant restaurant in the upper half of Domino. How the hell was this man going to decide on Yugi's plans this weekend? Like the concept of grounded didn't fit in his vocabulary. And Yugi could've kicked his own ass for not emphasizing the word. Grounded was grounded and no amount of alpha male complexity was going to change that.
Atem, from what Yugi learned a few hours ago, was used to having things given to him on a silver platter and gold spoons. This man had some nerve. Some real nerve. Yugi wasn't anyone's toy to be tossed around at a person's convenience. When someone asked anything of him, he took it as a request, not some high powered demand. And that was going to be a hard lesson Atem needed classes on. Yugi didn't care at this point what sort of employment he had or whatever lifestyle granted Atem this kind of attitude. He wasn't going to be a part of it.
Another hard sigh left his dry lips. Yugi licked them, opening his eyes to the horizon's apricot, crimson and indigo lining.
Atem played him like a fiddle down to the last note, and Yugi waltz right into it. It pissed Yugi off to no end. Another trait Yugi learned about Atem from their last encounter was that the man knew he had charisma. Yes, he knew and he utilized it the way an artist delicately dabbed bits of paint from his canvas. Atem knew what words to say, how deep to make his voice and in terms of authority, he had it down in spades.
The bastard's sex appeal was outrageous.
Yugi shrugged off his gray and black rimmed practice shirt, and hung it on a slack hook behind his head. The tight spandex wasn't helping the tingling sensations flooding his veins. Yugi dragged his hand miserably over his face because he wished now he'd been immune to the older man's effects. If someone had been a witness to the whole ordeal, they'd notice right away how flustered Yugi had been. It wasn't fair for someone to be so sexy and annoying at the same time.
"Muto, you're up!"
Yugi lowered his eyes from the sky to glare across the practice field. Like he thought, practice was nothing but a distraction today and not in a particularly good way. What he really wanted to do was have a repeat of what happened between him and that arrogant, fine ass Atem, so he could straighten this mess out.
Yugi drug his gloved fingers through his hair before pushing off the fence. His gray helmet, royal blue metal bat were plucked off the outer bench. Coach had everyone in regular position today; no substitutions. That meant Tristan was in close enough range to study Yugi's posture, sense his agitation and get an eyeful of his overall person. Yugi gave a frustrated sigh as he mounted the home base, tapping the bat tip on the plastic diamond and waving it back and forth.
The team's second pitcher climbed up the mount, a saucy grin on his face, tossing the baseball up and down, "What's with that face, Muto?" He hollered. "Booty troubles?"
"None of your damn business, Williams," Yugi snippily replied. "Just throw the ball; some of us got places to be!"
"Where you gotta go, half pint? Home? 'Cause last I heard you ain't had any ass in months!"
Yugi gave his bat a wide practice swing, "Throw the damn ball!" He wasn't in the mood for this childish shit.
"Hey," Tristan shouted from first base. "Throw the ball today, Williams. I'm growin' roots here!"
The pitcher chuckled teasingly, tossing the ball from his gloved hand to his other. Trevor Williams was one of the team's clowns. He had a nasty habit of psyching out the hitters with his taunts and rude comments. It worked against the enemy teams, but he didn't know how to discriminate between bothering his team and the others. The way his spring green eyes shun with mischief said he didn't give three damns about Yugi's attitude and wasn't the least bit fizzled by his glare.
"We can stand here all night for all I give a damn. It ain't like any of y'all got pussy waiting for ya—"
Second baseman, Zachery Trenton, growled, propping his hands on his hips, "Come on, Williams! Just 'cause you got Duke's nuts handcuffed, don't mean we ain't got ass waitin' for us."
"I know that's real," Tristan grunted loudly.
"Hey, fuck the both of y'all! And leave my babes outta this—"
A sudden metallic clank and rattle drew the whole high school team toward the dugout. Tristan saw Yugi's bat bouncing off the chained fence and the owner stomping through the batter cage, down through the dugout and toward the locker room. The entire team was left dumbfounded to see their team captain stalking off like a Rottweiler.
"Guess you pissed 'em off," Said Trenton.
"Who? Me?" Williams had the nerve to look innocent. "Hell naw, that wasn't my doing. I told y'all he was having ass troubles."
Tristan would've agreed if he didn't know Yugi as well as he did. Coach was going to get in their ass for not completing practice but hell no one was following proper protocol anyway. And Yugi was his priority. Tristan, being second in command of the team, called for an early break and took off in the same direction as his best friend.
Yugi couldn't understand why he was so frustrated. He knew better than to take out his aggravation against others; it just wasn't in his nature to be unnecessarily rude. Shoot, he usually kept a leveled head and could laugh off any of Williams crazy teases. It was just, damn, what was it? Atem couldn't have pissed him off this much.
But that man's oversized ego was impossible! Yugi had an intense complex against anyone making him do things against his will. He was eighteen years old. No one except his Grandfather had the natural guardianship to tell Yugi to do whatever he wished. As for Atem? He didn't. That's why Yugi was going to need to straighten this situation out the next time he laid eyes on the man.
Yugi had stripped down to his shower shoes, and went inside the locker stalls, letting the showerhead from one of the stalls pelt him with hot water. The scrubbing and scent of Olay Men's Body Wash erased some of his earlier attitude. But now his mind was clear as a grass field and left to wander. He scolded himself for allowing his mind to caress over images of Atem's sly, autumn eyes, his smiling face, and the deep caress of his voice in his ear, instead of being upset.
His dick twitched and heat pooled in the pit of his belly like an internal sauna.
Oh shit, he thought ruefully, licking his lips and straightening up, wincing slightly with discomfort. It's been a while since that had been an issue. Yugi swallowed, eyes closing as his manhood fully erected. When was the last time Yugi had sex? Eight months? Nine? No, no about a year. The last person he'd had relations with was Rebecca. That hadn't worked out as well asthey'd hoped, and the sex had been a means of release. Nothing more.
Yugi winced a second time and hung his head, hands gripping his wash rag and body wash like it was the embodiment of his frustration. Yeah, oh, yeah it's been a while. Especially if he was replaying Atem's voice in his head like a broken record. Those eyes, the regal tone of his voice and how, how Atem seemed to know he could bent Yugi to his will.
Yugi remembered how the older man had looked at him before he walked out the double doors. Atem's intense, fiery autumn eyes had fastened onto Yugi like no one else existed.
"You'll go because I said so. You don't need any more reason than that."
For a moment, all the past anger and confusion he felt towards Atem rushed him faster than the shower water. Yugi shivered as the words came flooding through his mind like a sutra prayer. Another twitch of his dick brought a subtle buckle in Yugi's knees.
Yugi had no idea he had it this bad. His body wanted Atem so bad he could almost taste the salty grit on his skin. He licked his lips hungrily and his hand crept downward to his swelling member. It would be so easy to take care of this minor problem. So easy. . .
Yugi clenched his fingers in a tight fist. No, no, no, no! He wouldn't succumb to temptation. He had control over his urges and was not going to masturbate in the shower like a sex-crazed teenager, panting at his grandfather's stash of pornos. He needed to get a grip.
Yugi turned the knobs until the water died and grabbed the towel draped across the overhead bar and used it to dry his limp hair. The towel ruffled across his hair, creating a tangled, choking cloud of red, black and blond around his crown. Rearing upright, all of his hair flipped in a single bound, water sluicing in every direction.
The world around him instantly became surrounded in cold air. Anybody else would've reflexively covered their extremities. Not Yugi, because he knew who the idiot was snatching his curtain open.
Yugi glared through terry cloth and hair at his amused best friend with one visible plum purple eye. "Can I help you?" He roughly asked. Pulling the towel down to fall on his shoulders, Yugi pushed back his hair again and stepped out, naked as a newborn.
Tristan grimaced, turning his eyes anywhere but Yugi's package, "Let's start with putting on some clothes. Then we can get to why you're PMSing this time."
"Nothing's wrong with me," Yugi grumbled, stalking to his locker. The combination was undone, and then he pulled out a plain white V-neck tee, a pair of navy plaid boxer briefs, black Nike sweatpants and jet black low top Converse shoes.
"Ohhh, I beg to differ," Tristan took off his practice jersey and flung it behind. "So, here's what's gonna happen." Next, he re-tied his shoe laces, tightened the drawstring on his jersey shorts, and then crackled his knuckles. "Either we do this the easy way or the hard way."
Yugi lifted an eyebrow, "Meaning?"
Tristan hunched his shoulders, fists lifted, "Tell me what's goin' on with ya, otherwise, I'm gonna wax this whole got'damn locker room with your face."
Yugi faced him and blinked, "You're seriously gonna fight me?" He said in total disbelief.
"Why not? You're the one acting like you got a chip on your shoulders," Tristan straightened up, but kept his fists up. "I don't know what to expect from you."
"So, that automatically qualifies me to get my ass kicked?"
"Yep."
Yugi snorted, "You're crazy."
"No, I'm your friend."
Yugi set aside his towel after finishing up with his hair and focused on Tristan's face. The brunet stood by Yugi's side with a frown, shoulder leaned against the neighboring locker door, his chestnut hair hanging around his face. He was worried, Yugi knew that. Yugi could see the curiosity and concern tumbling off his skin the same as the sweat film coming down his arms and chest.
"Talk to me, Yug'" Tristan softly pleaded. "You've been trippin' since you came back from the office." He paused at that, and then said. "Did something happen in there? Is that why you're upset?"
Yugi had to chuckle. He looked at the tiled floor as small smile grew across his lips. Tristan could transform from best friend to protective big brother in seconds. "It wasn't anything serious."
"So something did happen?"
"Yeah, sort of," Yugi tugged the rest of his clothes before gesturing for Tristan to take a seat on the bench. "It's complicated," Yugi started, carefully tap dancing over what he should or shouldn't say. "Everything that happened Saturday really shook me," he swallowed roughly. "I thought I was gonna lose you, Trist'. All I thought about was when I loss Heba, and then you getting hurt in front of me? I was confused about life and all kinds of shit."
Tristan whistled lowly. "I had no idea you were messed up from that."
"Yeah. . ."
"So, why didn't you tell me how you were feelin'?"
Yugi slipped into a small silence before he said, "I was gonna call after I took a breather to collect my head, but I kinda had a chat with a couple of friends."
"Friends?" Tristan frowned. "Who? Do I know 'em?"
And here was where Yugi needed to tread carefully. "Yes and no. You know one of 'em but the other, not so much."
"Okay? Where did you meet them and how do I know 'em?"
Here goes. "I met Atem last week at the park when I was signing autographs for the kids."
"Atem? That's his name?"
"Yeah, he's one of the children's father—"
"Father?" Tristan sneered awkwardly. "How old is this guy?"
Yugi flinched. "Thirty."
"Thirty?! Yugi—" Tristan started.
"I swear it's not what you think. All we did was talk, that's it," Yugi rubbed the back of his neck. "When he's not being bossy, he's actually a pretty cool guy to talk too. I promise, Trist', if I didn't think Atem was alright I wouldn't talk to him. Besides, he's got the sweetest little girl who needs a friend."
"And not a stepfather, right?"
Yugi gave him a stupid look.
"Right," Tristan skeptically muttered. "And the other guy?"
Yugi took a very deep, breath for this one. "The other guy I talk too kind of helped me out of a tight jam. Twice." Yugi thought it wise he never mentioned wandering into Orange Grove alone. Lord knows he didn't need Tristan in his ear and on his ass for weeks.
"You plan on tellin' me who the man is?"
"Yami," Yugi said in a small rush. "His name's Yami."
"Yami?" Tristan's mind tested the name over and over, coming up blank. "I know him?"
Yugi nodded. "He's the Red Eyes O.G."
Tristan's face went slack with shock, staring with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. His mind went reeling in a hundred million directions as it sunk in and still, he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Tristan jolted back a little, shaking his head slightly before raising his hands up.
"Hold up, I just went blank," He glanced up to the ceiling as if it held the truth and when he looked back down, discovered that wasn't the case. Yugi was still avoiding his eyes, which only further proved he wasn't joking. "You're sittin' here tellin' me that you've been messing around with the O.G.? Are you fuckin' serious right now, Yugi? That guy's bad news!"
"I know, I know, just hear me out before you go nuts—"
"A lil' late for that, ya idiot! Now my blood pressure's fucked!" Tristan groaned, miserably. "Ugh, Yugi, what the hell is the matter with you? This man would kill people just for looking at him wrong. He could take you out with one blink! Did it ever occur to you that you could wind up like Heba?"
"He's not like that, Tristan!" Yugi defended. "At least, as far as I saw, he isn't. Look, it's not like I intentionally spoke to him. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time and . . . we talked." What they talked about would remain a secret, of course.
Tristan palmed his face, groaning like a wounded dog, "Yugi, Yugi, Yugi come on dude. He's the O.G. of the Red Eye Spades. You can't trust a single word out of this guy's mouth. He could say the moon was shittin' cheese; that don't mean we gotta believe it!"
"We just talked, Tristan! We're not friends or anything. Hell, I probably won't see the man again anyway!" This surprisingly kind of sounded irritating to hear. Yugi wouldn't have minded getting a chance to talk to Yami again if he honestly had the chance. However, chances like those came in lifetime intervals. Yami was always busy doing gang business. There was no way in hell he and Yugi would cross paths again.
"So it was a onetime thing, right? I don't have to worry about you talking to him again?"
"No," Yugi said.
"It better be Yug'," Tristan pushed up to his feet, scowl painted like a scarlet letter on his face. "You better start doing better with your decisions. Messing around with these older men isn't safe. You keep saying you want people to give you a chance to take care of yourself, but so far Yugi, you aren't impressing me with your choice of company." Tristan left without saying another word to his best friend, shoulders tight with disappointment.
Anger rose and left Yugi's chest in one breath. Because, really, could he be mad at Tristan for being cautious?
He wished he was wiser with picking his company too, because now, he was starting to question his own judgment.
Ryou couldn't believe he'd taken so long to finish up tutoring. His brother was going to kill him. Akefia couldn't stand Ryou coming home after four and hated it even more when he didn't call. Honestly, Ryou would've, but his damn cell had chosen today of all days to die. And there was just so much to do.
First, he had to gather all his books from homeroom, because he foolishly forgot to collect them after the afternoon bell rang. Secondly, he was going to have to go to his locker to get his biology book because he left a few notes for tomorrow's exam there. And thirdly, he was going to need to get the Jordan's Akefia bought for him last week and bring them home.
Akefia played about many things, but anything name brand he purchased for Ryou, he treated as well as he did for his younger brother.
His cell phone buzzed in the breast pocket of his blazer just as he reached his hallway locker. Ryou pressed the answer key without bothering to check the caller ID. It could've been only been two people calling him around this time anyway.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm coming."
"Where the fuck are you?" Akefia growled angrily through the receiver. "I told you to be home at four. Its four damn thirty! Dinner's not made, the house is a wreck and I got places to be. Do you need me to come get you?"
Ryou rolled his eyes, "If I wanted to be scolded, I could've stayed in Britain with mum and dad. I'm not a child, Akefia. You shouldn't be so cold to me."
"I hope you're not talkin' back to me, brat. I'd hate to kick my own brother's ass because he decided to put some bass in his voice."
"And I'd hate to leave my own brother starving since he refuses to show me an ounce of respect to."
The phone went silent for all of ten seconds before Akefia's gruff accent came through, "Hey, that's abuse. You're not supposed to starve family."
"You're not supposed to curse at them and make them feel lower than dirt either," Chuckled Ryou. "So, it looks like we're at a stalemate, brother."
A long, dry sigh filtered through, "Are you at least on your way? I got patrol duty tonight and you know I can't leave without making sure you're in. Seto's got deals to run until Thursday so he can't get ya either. Are you sure you don't want me to send you a ride?"
"I'm capable of walking, Akefia. I'll be fine. When you get back tonight, I'll have a plate fixed for you in the fridge."
"What're you gonna make?"
Ryou smiled, "Whatever you want."
"Ohhh, you shouldn't have offered that, baby brother. But since you offered, make some of those banger sausages with mash potatoes and gravy. Make some of that pudding too, like dad used to and don't skip out on the strawberries. I want that shit heavy."
"Anything else?"
"Besides you gettin' your ass home? Nope, just hurry up!"
Click.
That crazy wanker. Ryou sucked his teeth, replacing his phone back in his pocket. Akefia was worst then their father. Or rather, he was twice as protective as he'd been since they lost Bakura.
Oh Bakura. God, ten years still didn't seem long enough for Akefia and their father to forgive themselves for losing him. Every time Ryou thought of his dead twin, it felt as if he was stricken with a stomach virus. It'd happened when the pair were eight years old going to a friend's birthday party together. They'd been walking on the sidewalk, when a car came careening down the street and skidded off the asphalt and right into the King family. Ryou suffered a broken leg and cracked ribs. Akefia had a concussion for weeks, but Bakura? His injuries were too fatal.
The first few months had been terrible for Akefia and his father. It'd been especially difficult for Ryou to adjust. Having the other half of you literally taken from you? It felt like he'd his ribs were cracked in half and the light stolen from his dark. Coping took time, therapy and prayer, but in time, Ryou managed to overcome his depression. Ryou took his twin's loss as a loving experience to always remember.
"You red blooded assholes don't learn, do ya?"
A large, meaty palm hand slammed against the door of Ryou's locker, slamming it closed. Ryou gulped and backed away and right into a cage of arms. They'd come so suddenly, Ryou hadn't the chance to realize he was being stalked. He stopped struggling to get an eyeful of the three students surrounding him. With a heavy heart, his count stopped at four, including the one holding him captive. Ryou stopped moving all together because any further movements might trigger this pack of wolves, though, his chances of escaping unharmed looked blink.
"How many times must we go through this?" Ryou softly ranted. "I've told you all before, I'm not a part of the Red Eyes."
All of them were thick and burly, as if eating meat was the only part of their diet. This wasn't the first time Ryou encountered these guys. They considered themselves the self-proclaimed Street Guards of the school, but really they were a small time bunch trying to get a name for themselves amongst the already established gangs. Picking on anyone with the tiniest bit of association with the blue or red bloods had its rewarding moments to them. They'd never tried anything with the actual gang members.
The leader of this tiny foursome, made himself known by stepping forward and bending now to Ryou's eye level. This one's name was Taka Gosunkugi with chopped black hair, brown eyes as thin as string beans and a body sculpted from raw iron. He used his size more than his brain to intimidate his enemies and it never failed to serve him well.
"That ain't what we heard, snow white," Gosunkugi darkly said. "If you're datin' 'em and livin' with 'em, you're with 'em. Facts are facts."
"I can't help whom I'm related too as much as you can't change the way you look. As far as my personal life, that's no concern of yours. I will date whomever I chose, but that shouldn't play a factor in how you treat people. I've done nothing to warrant this animosity from any of you!"
A wild cackle bubbled from Gosunkugi's chest like a bass drum. "If you hang with 'em, you must be one. I don't any more reason than that to kick your ass." His laughter stirred the rest of his crew to laugh as well. Ryou's fingers opened and closed, trying to work some circulation into his arms. He opened his mouth to speak again but didn't get a word out.
A sharp punch to Ryou's jaw left him stunned stiff. Fireworks of every color exploded before his eyes as a numbing pain erupted on his face. His jaw begged for some kind of pressure, but his hands could only wring themselves helplessly. With eyes watering from the hot flash of pain, Ryou didn't have the chance to recover. Gosunkugi wasn't going to let him.
Ryou forced flat against his locker as a large hand palmed the back of his head and started jamming his face over and over into the ridged crevices. Ryou grunted and gasped for every time his face cut into the metal door. He wanted so desperately to fight back. He wanted to go for the gun hidden in his back pack, and finished the whole lot of them in one go.
What good would it serve then to kill them off? The school was prejudice towards him as it was, because of his relations with the Red Eye Spades. How many times had he gone to the front office and reported the abuse and nothing was done? Why was he refused protection? Because he happened to be in love with a gang member? Because his older brother just so happened to be one of the senior members?
Ryou pivoted on his foot, anger consuming him whole as he took the puncher by surprise and landed a crippling kick in his groin. It was just enough of a distraction to surprise the boys before Ryou took his chance to dip and run.
He got only ten feet before a Mack-truck tackle knocked him onto the ground. The immense pain to follow was uncanny. Powerful blow after powerful blow fell on his head, into his sides and on his back like an avalanche. Someone grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked so hard, his neck threatened to snap in too. He was pulled to his knees and from there the reign of terror continued.
A kick so strong lunged into his stomach that Ryou thought he'd died right then. No air came through his gapping mouth, nothing came through his nose.
He truly believed he had died when everything became lighter than hair and the grip in his hair slacked away completely. The lack of support left Ryou to fall to the floor, jolting him back to reality. No more hits came. The distant sounds of footsteps echoed in tiny peeps and pats from all around.
"That's not how we play the game, boys. We take turns," said a voice as powerful as God's.
Ryou felt his stomach cave in collapse in a bucket of ice water. This man was notorious for showing up out of nowhere as if summoned by the shadows. His dark eyes seemed to swallow the young men alive, but they particularly lingered on Ryou's brown eyes, swollen and face covered in red welts.
Yami tsk'ed his teeth in disgust. "Get up, Ryou," He commanded, not told, the boy on the floor.
Ryou wouldn't question an order. He stumbled to his feet, balance awkward and eyes unpitying to the foursome frozen in place like deer game nailed to the wall. His books that had been shattered all over were slowly gathered. He retrieved his notes and started limping toward the locker room.
When he reached Yami's side, Ryou's eyes softly looked over and connected with the clash of storm red.
"How did you know?"
"I saw the bruise last week," Yami reached in the waist band of his pants for his pistol. "Seto's never raised his hand to you and Akefia would kill himself before he touched you. So," he clicked this gun, "that only left me investigating it for myself."
Ryou's head swiveled from the gang leader and to the whimpering students, hair flying and following like a lion's mane. "You can't, you mustn't," He blabbered senselessly, words a vomit of fear. "It isn't fair."
"Did they play fair?" Yami said, unmoved, idly rubbing at his scarred cheek. A magazine was retrieved and locked inside the cartridge port. "Go home, Ryou. I'll take care of things here."
"Please, you mustn't kill them. It wasn't as bad as it looked."
"You can beg all you want, but either you let me take care of it now, or Slim and Thief will."
Ryou hesitated. "You won't tell them, will you?"
Yami spared the young man a hard look. "They'll know because either you'll tell them or I will."
Ryou's spirits dampened. "They'll be angry," He said weakly.
"They will be, but they have every right to be."
"I was nervous of what they'd do."
"You should've been more worried about how pissed I was gonna be," Yami said. "I don't let family of my family get hurt without retaliation. If there were people here trying to up-one my crew, you should've said something sooner."
"I didn't want to get involved."
Yami glanced back at Ryou with eyes the darkest Ryou had ever seen, in way that terrified him to silence. Maybe he'd gone a little far in saying that. If he was indirectly connected to the gang life, perhaps it should've been his responsibility to warn them or at least speak up of the abuse he'd been going through at the school.
"Get outta here, Ryou. That's the last time I'm going to warn you," Yami spoke in a tone that clearly implied he wouldn't repeat himself.
Ryou threw a final look at the four bruisers. The four pairs of eyes in front of him widened laced with other worldly fear. Then a couple of them closed his eyes, whimpered, and began some kind of prayer for their lives. It would probably be the final time Ryou saw them. He turned on his heel and took off down the hall without looking back and ignoring the sudden screams and roars ping ponging off the walls.
Yugi rubbed one fist over his eyes as he stood in the exit opening of the school breezeway, warring with the sun's late evening shine. His hair was damp and pulled in a thick ponytail, with one or two jumbo spikes refusing to cooperate. He watched absently as the last couple of players tore out of the parking lot, relieved of a long practice and out to do as they wanted. It took a lot of pride on his end, but he'd summoned the whole team into the locker to apologize for his nasty behavior on the field and promised to have better control over his temper.
He was lucky the team had taken to his attitude switch better then he'd expected. They called it a momentary lapse in sanity due to pussy withdrawals. Whatever they called it, he was glad for their forgiveness. Yugi convinced Tristan to let him walk home since it wasn't a far off stroll.
Yugi took a few steps towards the parking lot that had become vacant as a skeletal and vast as an oily desert. Crossing through the molten asphalt had him rethinking his decision on letting Tristan leave without him. Yugi glanced around to see if he'd missed any of his friends from leaving, but found he was the only soul left on the school property. He arched his shoulders and trudged onward.
When he reached the corner turn where the sidewalk met the school exit, a crimson Cadillac flanked his right and came to a stop, windows dark as a presidential tint. Music thudded the interior, quaking the windows the way a finger tapped an aquarium.
The windows dipped halfway down, letting the beastly stereo system encase half the block in Drake's, Started Form the Bottom. Cool air conditioning blasted Yugi's face as he dipped forward to see who the owner was.
His expression became a mixture of anxiety, dread and relief when Yami's face shun through the dark interior. Yugi straightened up, licking his lips, eyes darting from side to side. The scent of Purple Haze oozed from the car in misty wisps, clinging to the air.
The music quieted to a dull roar, "Where you headin'?" Yami's voiced, lightly thumping his cigarette in an ash tray.
Yugi blinked and stared, "Um, home."
"Get in, I'll drive you."
Yugi was left as dumbfounded as when he realized this was Yami he was talking too. "I, well," He licked his drying lips again. "I think I can manage. Thanks anyway."
The older man tapped his smoke out the window, "I wasn't asking." The passenger door opened and smoke poured from the floor and ceiling as thick and flowing as a waterfall.
Some of that old attitude started curling in his chest, but Yugi sobered as fast as it developed. He could say it was because he wasn't up for arguing but the ominous vibes seeping from the car were the real reason.
"Asking wouldn't kill you, would it?" Yugi grumbled, slipping inside the cool interior, the cool press of leather suction cupping to his sweaty skin. He pulled the seatbelt around and clasped his hands in his lap. It was dark as hell in this car. No amount of light could penetrate the sweep of black surrounding the windows and the cool air and soft hum of music put Yugi in the mindset of a torture chamber.
For a long while the car didn't move.
Yugi glanced over to see why and jumped when all he saw was darkness and the subtle electric lights illuminating Yami's eyes. That scathing glare could peel skin from bone. Why did he have so much perilous aura radiating off him? That wasn't fair!
"What?!" Yugi snapped with more edge in his voice then he intended. Yami simply continued to stare. Yugi sucked his teeth and gave his attention to the outside world because it was better than being stared at like the newest discovered animal. His body turned as far into the passenger door as he could crunch into in hopes of Yami getting the picture and just driving off, but apparently he was waiting for something to happen, be said or done.
Yugi looked at Yami again and wished he'd kept his eyes out the window.
Yami, slick as an eel covered in virgin oil, pulled a deep drag on his cig, withdrew it to produce a river of smoke and discarded it in the ash tray. His mouth curled back in a grin as lethal as a viper's hypnotic stare.
"I like that pissed off look on your face, it's cute."
Yugi owlishly blinked. "I'm sorry?"
Yami's chuckle reached new oceanic depths in Yugi's stomach, "I like that look too." Yugi gave pause, blinks coming in faster than a slideshow. He was grateful for the car's darkness. At least he could hide the blush racing across his cheeks and nose.
"What's got you, pissy anyway?"
Yugi felt like he couldn't even remember how the world turned and the sun set, let alone answer the question. A slow reminder started pulsing in his mind that Tristan was going to skin his ass raw if he found out he was back in cahoots with Yami after just saying an hour ago he wouldn't be.
"It's nothing," Yugi mumbled. "Could you just take me home, please? I wouldn't want to bore you with my issues anyway."
"Who said you'd bore me?"
Damn, that voice was too sexy for his own good. Why the hell wasn't it outlawed? "You said I bored the last time we talked." Yugi said behind his palm, staring out the window.
Yami shrugged, putting the car in drive, "I said boredom had me listening to you at the time. I never said your conversation was boring. But if that's what you took from it, you're free to think as you wish." Yami thumbed through the musical selection on his radio station before stopping on the old R&B station, allowing Anita Baker's Sweet Love, to overwhelm the car in sultry music.
Yami lifted his eyebrow at Yugi's shocked expression.
"I wouldn't have taken you for an old school junkie," Yugi answered the unspoken question. "My brother loved this kind of music, especially Chaka Khan."
Yami snorted, "What 'cha know about old school?" he said while leafing through a stack of CDs in his overhead compartment.
"Plenty," Yugi snorted back. "You can thank my grandpa for that one. All he did was play R&B as we grew up."
Yami hummed, saying he was listening even while he was going through his CD collection.
Yugi knew he should have been more cautious of riding with Yami, but when the music came on; all weariness flew out the window. Some of Yami's habits, his disposition and composure reminded Yugi sometimes of the way Heba would act. Yugi's guard softened a little. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to hang around Yami sometimes; as long as he wasn't involved in anything illegal.
I look in your eyes and I can see
We've loved so dangerously
You're not trusting your heart to anyone
You tell me you're gonna play it smart
We're through before we start
But I believe that we've only just begun
When it's this good, there's no saying no
I want you so, I'm ready to go
Yugi cracked a wicked smirk. "This one's my favorite."
Yami eased his arm behind Yugi's head rest. "You said your brother listened to this too, yeah?"
"It was all he listened too. He dabbled in rap here and there but his heart was always into soul music."
"Oh really? Tell me what else he was into."
For the majority of the short trip to Yugi's home, that was he did. Conversation went from talking about Heba's love of certain music to how amazing he was in playing baseball. The music was set at random to play through Chaka Khan's music, then more of Anita Baker, some of Luther Vandross and bits of Tupac. All his favorite foods, his attitude, the way he reacted to anything, everything was discussed until Yugi realized he and Yami had been sitting in the car for nearly two hours rambling back and forth—well, he talked and Yami listened—about a little of everything.
The sun had set some time ago, enveloping the already pitch black interior in an even darker world. Life Goes On by Tupac, hovered between Yugi and Yami for a brief moment. They were reclined in their chairs, staring at the peppering stars through the open roof top.
Yugi's sigh exhaled like a balloon released of helium, "I didn't mean to snap you earlier."
"My feelings weren't hurt," Yami returned casually.
"It still isn't right. I don't normally have an attitude. I think I was more frustrated than anything. You didn't deserve that."
Yami cracked grin, saying nothing.
"You should do that more often."
Yami's smile vanished. "Do what?" He found Yugi up on his elbows, smiling softly.
"Smile. You should smile more often. It looks good on your face."
Yami just arched a brow like he didn't have the slightest clue he'd been smiling and turned his head back to looking at the night sky.
"When I find a reason to, maybe I will." Yami answered after a minute.
Yugi raised himself to an upright position, folding his right leg under his left, tilting his head. "Had you ever had a reason to smile before?"
"Once," Yami said his voice almost . . . like it'd gone soft and sweet.
Yugi had to battle the urge down to question it further. Yami didn't leave an opening for that particular subject to be discussed. Yugi ignored the heavy weight called disappointment pressing on his chest and decided to pick a new topic.
"What were you doing at the school?"
"Handling business," Yami clipped.
Ok, that subject was off limits too. Yugi tugged at a loose spike hanging off his forehead and sighed. The easy going atmosphere depleted faster than a fog. "Guess I should get going."
Yami didn't respond.
Yeah, it was definitely time to go. Yugi opened the passenger door and put his feet on the gritty ground. He looked down at the carpeted patches of grass as if it were a new enemy of sorts. Should it end this way? "Damn." Yugi cursed, frowning at the familiar feeling of needing to right a wrong. Yugi dipped back inside the car, back turned to Yami. "If you're willing to learn about my life, can I at least learn some of yours?"
A sigh, long and hard came from behind but otherwise no verbal reply.
Yugi dared a peek over his shoulder. With his body laid parallel, eyes half-closed, bathed in the mercury streetlight his impeccably sculpted form, Yami looked . . . almost stunning. The gentle expression lurking beneath the surface of those ecstasy laden eyes stirred something in the Yugi pants.
That's when Yugi saw the scar, a long deep cut slashed along Yami's cheek. It was as red and angry looking as the color of the gang leader's eyes. Yugi stopped the reflex to reach out and touch it, keeping his hands glued to his lap. He wondered how Yami got that wound.
When Yami's next spoke it came as such a surprise, Yugi's stomach sunk through the ground, "I got a lot of demons you don't need to know about, Yugi. Some of them would probably tear your soul in half. I'm not about to drag another one down with me." He said it all and out of every word, only Yugi's name came off as if placing a tiara on top of a silky pillow.
Yugi turned around fully, and jumped.
Yami's hand was already coming forth silent as the wind. He gave a crooked smile, letting the tips of his long, slender fingers graze over the line of Yugi's jaw.
"Don't fuck around, trying to figure out about my life, Yugi. I swear you'll be more afraid of me then you are."
Yugi caught the gasp seeking escape from his lungs. His heart stammered before going into triple-time. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to control his stupid urges. Yami's cool, callous hand, probably made rough from years of gripping a gun, was like a sweet oasis in the desert and Yugi found himself leaning his head into the gentle touch. God, his touch was so gentle. How could this be the same man people feared?
As soon as he'd started enjoying the caress, Yami withdrew his hand.
"Yami—"
"It's getting late. You need to go inside."
"Wait," Yugi said when the car revved to life.
"What's up?" Yami asked, pulling a new cigarette from somewhere in his glove compartment. He flipped out a light to light the edge of the cigar, putting it in his mouth.
Yugi watched Yami drag in a few puffs before speaking. "Can we see each other again, if that's alright?"
Silence fell between them again with the only faint sound of Yami puffing away on his cig. "I'll see." He flicked his wrist for Yugi to get out and took off down the dirt road.
Yugi gripped the straps of his book bag, and turned to go inside, ignoring the deadweight settling in his stomach.
TBC: I think it's about time we stir up some things.