Author's Rant: Thanks for reading everyone. Enjoy the chapter!
Unsuspecting Moments
Atem couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night of sleep.
During the time he's been home, his mission has been about restoring order to the Blue Eyes clan. Seth held the fort for as long as he could manage but eventually it'd been time for Atem to return. It wasn't that Atem didn't believe in his cousin's ability to sustain Northern Domino's strength. No, that wasn't it at all. They'd traded command of the Blue Eye Aces since they were twelve and fourteen years old. By then, their fathers knew it was time they claimed the head of the family.
This time around, things weren't going as they should; as if a ripple in a placid pond were stirred by a mighty stone and left to die unnoticed. Atem had sensed the imbalance since he'd stepped foot in the International Domino Airport and rode through the city in the back of a tinted limousine, scoping out every inch of the city. It'd seemed poorly manicured, dirtied with deceit, and soiled with lies. That wasn't how Atem and surely, not how Yami ran things. They'd maintained, as far as the other knew, a woven set of rules that didn't leave room for deception. There was only blunt force, publicized activity and an eye for an eye way of settling matters.
That's why when Atem had gotten word of a leak streaming information to the wrong people, Atem knew it didn't have anything to do with Yami. When Atem had heard about a leech sucking out the funds from seven of the six hundred and twenty five bank accounts, he knew it wasn't Yami. When word reached Atem of one of his soldiers, piping out the coordinates and scheduled meetings of his exports from the harbor, naturally he disregarded it being Yami.
None of the activities executed were Yami's style. When he did anything to cripple Atem's defenses, Yami wanted the Blue Eyes Leader to know he did it. The younger gang leader took pride in knowing if anything was done to break Atem, even an inch, he'd done it. That's why when Atem heard on the news about four high school students found hanging by their belts and filled with bullet holes near the police station that it'd been Yami's doing. Atem theorized it had something to do with someone either messing around with Yami's family or family of family or he was regulating order.
Atem was, for once, at home, located right in the center of Northern Domino and the highest level above the whole city. He wanted a Hawkeye's view of the entire terrain; as a king would desire to hover above his kingdom. Atem lived in the Eclipse Century Apartments, in the penthouse suite. Every single inch of the foyer, furniture, and the walls were colored a rich, vibrate royal blue. The carpet was plush, and so cushiony your toes could sink to the Styrofoam bedding. The ceiling was made with built-in skylights that gave off a warm gold glow in the mornings and switched to sultry silver by night.
The living room was a circular foyer set in a slight depression from the entry way. The step-down lead to the three velvet plush living room set, a five seat round couch curving to the edge of the dip, which had a matching two seat sofa and love seat. A diamond shaped glass table on stone legs sat in the center of the furniture. In front of the large couch was a ceiling-to-floor flat screen television embedded in the wall.
Where Atem was standing was the penthouse's ultimate advantage and well worth the money. It was a transparent, wrap around view of the entire city; windows panels as tall stretched to the ceiling and to the floor, making up nearly half of the suite. Skyscraper windows peppered their silver, gold and bronze lights on and off like Christmas decorations. Down below, the cars, street lights and buzz of activity gradually filtered up to his ears. A wrap around terrace opened up to a Latin styled patio with dark designed furnishing tucked in a corner under a wall shade and a mini bar used for those special occasions. Atem had every old school concoction stored in the wall fridge that could keep three clubs stocked for two weeks.
"Daddy?"
Atem started and snapped his gaze back to his daughter. He'd been spying out at the stretch of city for so long, he'd become drawn in and seduced by its nightly dress. She wasn't a danger, he reminded himself, because having to tame his killer instinct was a process he wished he could shut off completely when at home.
Five year old Kisara was standing in the mouth of the hallway leaning to the master bedroom, her bedroom and the two guest rooms, rubbing a small fist over her eye. She was dressed in a similar pajama set similar to Atem's; a black silk and white plaid bottoms with grey background. Her set was a light blue, with white plaid pants and a pink background. Being a Hassan had traditions. Every single child born into the family received the upmost care and received every sort of financial advantage. Kisara, especially needed the attention and tender care, because of the way her skin refused to gather sun and instead, rebelled it.
It was a terrible condition, being unable to color like her peers, but God, his daughter was beautiful. She wasn't a traditional Egyptian, not bearing the recognizable dark skin tone, slanted eyes and angular facial traits, like her family. Her eyes were the bluest of blue, a wonderful color Atem was proud to say originated from his side of the family. His mother's eyes had been like pools of tranquil ponds, undisturbed by the slightest ripple. Then there was the natural baby softness of her skin. Kisara's skin would never know a blemish as long as Atem protected her.
Atem smiled in the darkness overshadowing the foyer in leaps and bounds, a small spotlight of silver beaming on his daughter as if she'd just stepped on stage.
Then Kisara's sleepy face fixed into a weak frown, one that belonged to her father and had the makings of maturing to look like her mother. Atem cleared his throat and softly beckoned his daughter over, "Couldn't sleep, baby girl?"
Kisara shook her head, "No." She crept through the living room, using the outside lightning as a guide to reach her father. Atem held out his hand and hugged Kisara to his side when she reached him. Kisara lamely leaned against his thigh, leeching the warmth off his body.
"Daddy, when can I go back to school?" Kisara mumbled, looking up at him with big, trusting eyes, admiring him as one would a God.
Atem's hand cupped the back of her soft head, growing weighty. What could you say to your daughter when it was your fault she couldn't attend school safely? How did a father explain that he needed to wait until the heat died down before allowing his child to see the light of day? There was no right or wrong way of holding the truth from your children. There were red bloods flooding the streets out for revenge for their fallen comrades. It was amusing watching the countless red cars filter the streets on the lookout for anyone who gave off the tiniest blue blood vibe. But it wouldn't be funny seeing his daughter harmed.
Lying to Kisara has become almost instinctive when Atem was forced to answer a question she couldn't comprehend. He smiled tenderly as he leafed his fingers through her snowflake hair.
"When they're finished fixing it up, I'll take you back," he said. "Remember I said they have to make sure the school's prepped for beautiful girls like you."
She blinked. "The school doesn't have to be pretty for me. I don't care if it looks dirty."
"But I care, baby girl. I don't want daddy's angel wandering around in filth."
Kisara dropped her head and sighed. "But then . . . I can't play with Yugi, Daddy. He'll be mad at me for not coming to play."
Atem's eyes widened comically as he ruffled his daughter's hair. "I assure you, baby girl, Yugi will still want to play with you when you get back to school." If Atem had anything to say about it, Yugi would be around for a while and be tossed aside later.
Not only had the young man bewitched Kisara after one meet, but after a few talks and he'd captured Atem's attention too. Since Monday, Atem's mind dallied with images of Yugi's face. His innocence, the spunk he possessed and that wicked determined need to be in control, sent fire to Atem's groin.
Damn, he loved that shit.
Atem loved a fight in potential lovers. He absolutely relished in it. Submissive men and women did nothing to satisfy his lust. He wanted a struggle, he wanted an equal, and he wanted a full fledge battle mentally, physically and spiritually. It'd been months since he had the taste of a decent lover. His bedmates were always missing a certain attribute that never lead to a second encounter. Atem hoped the same wouldn't apply to Yugi.
Atem hadn't had ass that young in years.
"Daddy, when can I see Yugi again?"
A yank on his hand drew Atem back to the real world. He shook his head slightly and answered his daughter, "We'll get to see this weekend."
Kisara's eyes grew enormous and sparkled. "Really, daddy? Really? Are we gonna play together? Can he sleep over and play tea time with me?!" She excitedly ranted.
Atem chuckled along with his daughter's contagious mirth. "We'll see, love. We'll see."
"Oh no, daddy, I don't have a nice dress to wear. Yugi won't play with me if I don't look pretty!"
Atem outright laughed, deep voice bellowing like a saxophone, "We'll go shopping Friday with Seth to find you a nice dress and a fine pair of shoes."
Kisara was bouncing on her feet, growing more and more thrilled at the aspect of looking her best for her new friend. Atem gently scooped Kisara up into his arms, clasp her to his chest, and together, they stared out into the city life. "Before we do, love, you'll need to get some sleep."
Kisara yawned on cue, already resolved to it. "Sleep with you, Daddy?" she slurred, eyes growing heavy.
"Yeah, baby girl." Atem hiked her up on his chest, cast one long look at his territory and then backed away. He snapped his fingers and the lights dimmed to pitch black.
He'd make sure his daughter was tucked in and slumbering peacefully before he came back to watch his land. After all, when did a good king ever fall asleep over his kingdom?
He could sleep when he was dead.
Standing inside his blue marble, and pearl white checkered shower stall, Yami pressed his forehead against the hall of the transparent glass. Steam funneled through the roof opening, shrouding the entire bathroom in a mystical oasis. Hot water brindled his nude body in scorching waves. All of his hair was soaked to the scalp in heaps of dark auburn, slick black and blond.
"God," he groaned for the tenth time that night.
Yami hadn't been certain at first when he'd first saw Yugi, he just . . . he just hadn't been sure.
But now, remembering Yugi's expression in the car, those damning eyes of his and the way he responded . . . it was like a torturous memory bleeding in his mind like a knife wound. His head was fucked up more than ever now. He'd drunken his entire stock of Brandy, smoked two full Red Dawns and still, he was helplessly agitated by long buried images.
Yami shuddered, gnawing his bottom lip hard to fight against the sob stored in his throat. It was either the water or his own tears wetting his face and mucus dripping from his nostrils as he ran a hand over his face. His chest ached. His stomach felt hollowedand yet, full of this unimaginable pain. How could such agony exist? It was overwhelming.
Yami growl miserably, dropping to the balls of his knees, hands grappling at an empty support.
Yami turned and sat, clutching his stomach, and his face, absently watching the water drain through his fingers. Water slipped down his arms and seemed to caress the slight rise of his tattoos like a river. His abdominal section suddenly hitched, his chest tightened and before he knew it, Yami was yanking the shower door open and dumping his essence in the toilet.
He was a fucking wreck.
Yami slipped away, dragging a hand over his mouth and smacking away the sour taste. His mind refused to settle on a single thought process. But they all revolved around the same thing.
Yugi Muto.
Yugi Muto.
Yugi Muto.
Yami swallowed hard.
That last name should've been the first clue. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? How could he have been so blind? Yugi Muto and Heba Muto—"Ah!" Yami collapsed to the floor, squeezing his head as if the pressure alone could rid him of the heavy memories. Just thinking of Heba's face, his name, anything about him punctured holes in Yami's head. He'd tried, lord knows he has for years to put his twisted past behind him. Forgetting Heba ever lived had grown easier as time progressed . . . but no longer. Just when it was looking like he could pull the pieces of his life back together, Yugi's eyes were the monkey wrench to shatter the puzzle.
Yami slowly rose to his feet, cut the water and grabbed a towel to dry off. After drying off, he put on a black t-shirt, grey sweat pants, and a pair of black ankle socks. As soon as he flopped heavily on his bed, His hand searched pulled the drawer open and started to fish around for his grandfather's old silver Hohner harmonica.
Closing his eyes, Yami wet his lips, placed the edge of the instrument on his tongue and tested a few long whines. Some chords lazily hummed from the pipes and before long, the empty mansion was hazily filled with Kenny G's, The Moment. The beginning hymn floated in stretched harps, the music tingling in Yami's chest. He loved this thing because of how it transported him from this world and into one within his mind. It was where he could reside without interruption.
The music began to flow on its own, putting Yami in a state of recovery. Bits and pieces of his broken self were mending together. He played the wondrous lullaby several times, sometimes adding in his own mixed measures until the music purred to silence. Rippling waves echoed off the walls like struck dongs and before long, Yami was in solitude, alone once more.
With his eyes still closed, Yami held the harmonica to his chest and willed sleep to come. His mind was nearly purged of Heba's memory. But now, it was free and full of another's, whose eyes seemed to awaken a newfound spark in his life. Yami wiped a hand across the back of his neck, his mind flitting from image to image. Heba, Yugi, Heba, Yugi, Yugi . . . now, just Yugi.
Yami sighed, at last opening his eyes to the plaster ceiling. Yugi was something else. Despite the dangers, he still wanted to see Yami again. Why? The gang leader hadn't a clue. Curiosity was a deadly habit to entertain. Yugi wasn't thinking about the consequences, that much was obvious. He was, perhaps, like any other foolish teenager with a wild thirst for the tall, dark and brooding types.
Yami had to smile at that and caught it as soon as it left his lips.
Had you ever had a reason to smile before?
Yami snorted and flipped on his side. He had a reason once and wasn't looking or another anytime soon. Heba had given him that gift—
Yami's cell phone suddenly started humming on the nightstand, illuminating the dark room in flickers of light blue. He didn't check the caller ID because all his calls were either for business, pleasure and business. Yami's thumb slide across the screen.
"Talk to me," his sluggish deep voice said into the receiver.
"Oi, boss we got a problem."
Since when didn't they? "Blue bloods?" Yami automatically concluded.
"No, not this time, chief," Valon's gravely said. "Slim just called askin' if I knew about a withdrawal from the east accounts. Somebody's stashin' a shit load of green."
Yami rolled on his side, a frown marring his brow. The entire gang had over two hundred and seventeen checking accounts and three hundred and twenty four saving accounts secured in the eastern and western banks of Domino, all of them under a dozen aliases.
"How much is missing?"
Some clicks tickled the other end of the phone before Valon replied, "About six percent, but the fuckin' weird thing is, it wasn't from one or two accounts. That's what's missing out of all of 'em. Each one is missin' six percent."
All? What the fuck? "The hell you mean all?" Yami bellowed, a rare show of him losing his cool.
"Don't shoot the messenger, chief!" Valon said. "It's what Seto told me. He's havin' the accountants run a scan but so far, we ain't got shit."
Silence reigned heavy and thick. Then Yami sighed, massaging the pressure between his eyes.
"Ya think it's the blue bloods?" Valon questioned with disdain.
No, hell no, it wasn't Atem's way of doing things. He didn't need to steal money. Why would he? If he'd wanted to harm Yami, all he had to do was damage property, hurt his gang members or leave clues to a future assault. Atem was a freak like that. He got pleasure out of fucking with people's heads. This wouldn't have been any fun for him.
No, something else was going on. Only Yami, his higher ranks and his senior members knew the account numbers, the names they went under and the pin numbers. Someone was leaking information.
"What're we gonna do, chief?"
Yami relaxed, tapping his chin. "We'll lay low for a minute. Supervise the west accounts and drain the east accounts into new ones."
"All of them?" Valon whined.
Yami paused and said lowly. "You have something better to do?"
Valon chuckled. "I had a couple Sheila's waitin' in my bed, but duty calls I guess."
Yami's body relaxed a little. "After you finish up there, take out 3 G's for yourself and take the next two weeks off." Valon had been pulling his weight non-stop for the past month. It was about time he unwind every now and again.
Valon whooped and cheered, "Don't mind if I do!" The phone hung up.
Yami tugged his chin, absentmindedly thinking about his next mode of action. Something was going on and sticking around here wasn't going to help clear his head.
He needed to find out what was going on.
Insanity Billiard
Thinking about last Saturday left a nasty taste in Joey's mouth. Not even swallowing Mr. Jason's famous Electric Ale could sweeten his taste buds. He'd been in a funk for three straight days after Yami had personally told him to take a two week vacation. Joey wasn't going to complain about the off time. Hell, he could use a break from all the hustling. It's just, now that he had nothing to occupy his mind, all he could think about was that pointy haired kid and the way he'd looked ready to die.
That wasn't an expression a guy easily forgot. Most folks', who could handle having a gun shoved up their chin, meant they'd been through some rough shit. It intrigued Joey to want to learn more about the handsome teenager. And whatever Joey wanted, he intended to get. He took Saturday's rejection as a lesson learned and would work on his next method of attraction the next time he laid eyes on the brunet.
Coming to Insanity Billiard with Akefia, hadn't been the best idea Joey could praise himself for. He was bored out of his mind and getting agitated because they were downstairs in the pub's billiard room shooting pool.
He'd gotten one shot and missed. Since then, Joey's been sitting on a stool, nursing a bottle of Bud Lite, while watching Akefia sink his third ball in the hole. The bronze skinned senior member was wearing a long red tee, some acid washed black Levi jeans and high top Air Jordan Retros—the newest edition to hit the stores since last month. Joey was sporting a V-neck Kelly green urban legend shirt with an onyx black cross chain on his neck, a print of a black dragon coiling from the rim of the shirt and up to the neckline. His jeans were dark blue and his shoes were a pair of black high top Converse.
"Ya fallin' asleep on me, J?" Akefia said, throwing a sassy smirk to the side when he made his fourth successful shot.
They were playing thirty bucks a damn ball too. At this rate, Joey was going to be walking home broke as hell. "Naw, I'm chillin'," Joey said casually, trying his hardest not to growl. "Keep talkin' shit, though. You won't last."
"Uh huh," Akefia hummed he sunk two more balls, he barked a wicked laugh when Joey cursed in the background.
Why the hell had he agreed to play Akefia's shark ass? The original plan had been to come down here and hustle everybody else out of their money but somehow it'd wound up being a match between J.R. and Thief.
Joey glanced around the room and suddenly remembered why they didn't have anyone else to trick. The whole bottom floor was empty. Every time a few commuters came to check out the competition, they ambled back up the wooden stairs when recognizing the notorious Red Eye seniors.
"Shit." Joey heard Akefia suck his teeth after finally, finally missing a hole. "Don't get happy, blondie. You'll fuck up in a minute," Akefia said, taking Joey's place in the corner.
"Not likely, sweetheart. Ya might as well get a pillow 'cause you ain't gonna move for the rest of the night."
Joey circled the table, taking a swig of his beer, scouring the purple pool table for a nice shot. There was a nice stripe and whole ball sitting lined beautifully by the right center pocket. Joey stopped on the opposite side, rubbed the end of his pool stick with a cube. He leaned away, eyeballed the pair carefully, and then lined up the shot.
His pool stick tapped the center hole. "Two and nine balls, side pocket." Bending at the waist, Joey positioned himself, aimed and took the shot.
The balls spun off into the hole as said. Akefia groaned from his place and ordered a beer from the bartender. He knew he was in for a long night because after that, Joey was striping the table of every ball until all that remained was the eight ball.
After the last one was perfectly executed, Joey grinned wolfishly, bouncing his eyebrows at Akefia's sunken expression. "Do the math, sweetheart. That's two hundred and forty bones."
Akefia snorted as he fished around his back pocket, "I shouldn't pay your cheatin' ass a damn thing," he accused sourly. He pulled out a neatly rolled wad and started leafing off twenties until the winning sum was counted.
Joey snatched his winnings, grinning as wide as the Grinch. "I went easy on ya."
"Whatever, let's play again, forty a ball!"
"Sold!" Hell yeah Joey would take that bet. He set his stick on the side. "Rack up the balls, I'ma go get something to eat. Ya want somethin'?"
"Yeah, gimme some loaded nachos with extra chili, a bowl of hot wings and a Root Beer."
Joey gave him a stupid look. "Greedy ass."
"Ya mother!"
Joey left, taking the stairs two at a time to the top level. The lower level bartender didn't carry the special brand liquor like the upstairs did. Up here, the modernized looking western atmosphere was vacant, save for three older men watching a soccer match on one of the flat screens. Joey walked up to the bar stand and slapped the counter, summoning a waitress.
One came with brunette hair cut in a symmetrical bob, bright blue eyes and a body with curves exploding in every direction. Joey racked his eyes over the way the cream white blouse hugged her C-cup chest and the black mini skirt wrapped around her long legs.
She was fine, no question, but Joey didn't toss salads. "Lemme get an order of ya loaded nachos with extra chili, a bowl of hot wings, and a mug of root beer. And," he glanced at the overhead menu, scanning the contents until finding what he wanted, "get me a plate of potato skins, go light on the onions, white queso dip and a pitcher of Sprite."
She jotted the order, asked if he wanted anything else and when he said no, she said it'd be fifteen minutes before the order was ready. Joey pulled up a stool and watched one of the basketball games. He'd ordered another beer and put it to his lips when he heard the front door open. He twisted in his chair to scope out the newcomers in case they might be some eager victims.
What he saw was something better.
Son of a sexy—hmph. Looks like he was going to get his second chance sooner than he thought.
Joey couldn't remember seeing so much fine wrapped in a single person. It was that Tristan boy, with the nice body and pretty face. The teen's muscles were snuggly coated in a smoke gray Calvin Klein lightweight nylon car coat, a black length V-neck cardigan and tan cream slim shirt, techy dress slacks. Tristan had his hair gelled up in his signature needle point, and a light scowl on his face, like it was a permanent expression.
Joey whistled, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. The brunet's eyes connected with his. The impact of his stare was as heavy as a car collision. It was fierce, and Joey devoured it with plenty of gusto. His lips tilted in a saucy smirk, as he puckered his lips and blew a kiss.
Tristan grimaced like he saw a roach scurry past and approach the farthest end of the bar stand. Joey cheesed stupidly. He loved when they played hard to get. He hopped off his stool and swaggered over, cinnamon eyes alight with mischief.
Tristan didn't give him even the smallest glance.
Joey could respect that, especially since their last encounter wasn't a pleasant one. "We got off on da' wrong foot last time, so why don't we start over?" Joey offered his hand. "My name's Joseph."
Tristan stared ahead, or rather found the basketball game more interesting than Joey's olive branch.
Joey's lips bunched to the side as he withdrew his hand. "Ok, fair enough. I get yer still pissed. Hell, I would be too if some nut job flung a gun in my face."
Still no reply. That's cool. Joey could talk all night. He took the seat adjacent Tristan's, while thinking quietly to himself for something to say. "So, you uh, ya got any favorite hobbies?"
Silence.
Joey nodded. "I got hobbies. I play the guitar from time to time. I like to play cards, mostly spades. Sometimes I dabble in a lil' bit of chess and checkers. I like cars too." There wasn't the tiniest reaction or movement from the silent teenager.
Joey pouted, fingers drumming the counter top. Ok, if he was going to have to resort to this, shit why not? "If I change by name to Barney, will you love me?"
There was a reaction this time around. Tristan slowly, very slowly swirled around in his seat, eyebrows lifted. He blinked at Joey's puppy-wide eyes and that did it. He was laughing loud and as musical as a bass tuba. He wheezed, bending at the waist and slamming the counter with one hand, his forehead held in the other.
"You—ignorant dumbass!" he howled, still laughing. "Are you kiddin' me right now?" Tristan said in between laughter and shaking his head.
"What can a guy do ya know," Joey murmured softly, because he was so entranced. He couldn't help himself. He stared like a straight fool. Tristan's monotone laugh, sent lustful missiles to Joey's dick, one direct shot at a time. A sound that sexy should be banned from the country or stored in a museum. It was one of a kind, smoky and if Tristan wanted too, he could use it to get whatever the hell he wanted from Joey.
Tristan's chortle settled to light chuckles. His eyes, glistened from amusement, and turned to gradually narrowed and scowl, though a smirk continued to grace his kissable lips.
"What're you starin' at?" He roughly asked.
Joey swallowed forcefully, kicking the perverted thoughts from his mind. "Nothin'. You just got a sexy laugh. I like it."
Those chocolate brown eyes flashed. "Look, I already told ya—"
"I know, I know, you're not gay." Joey rolled his eyes. "Can't a guy give a compliment? Sheesh."
Maybe this was a dumb idea. Joey never put up this much effort to get ass before. If he wanted a battle he could try asking Yami for a fuck or something.
The waitress came in the nick of time to deliver Joey's oversized order. She ranted off the entire order exactly as Joey requested and crumbled up the receipt. "I'll have the drinks brought to you." She smiled.
"Thanks." Joey cast a wordless stare at Tristan before gathering the meals stored in a white plastic bag before slipping off the chair and starting for the downstairs. He was beginning to think he'd never hear Tristan's voice again until it stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Aren't you gonna pay for that?"
Joey looked over his shoulder. "No, 'cause I ain't gotta."
"Yes, you do."
A large hand clapped Joey's shoulder with loaded authority. It took Joey several hard breaths to calm down and not toss this boy on the floor. "I suggest ya move yer hand," he slowly warned.
Tristan's grasp tightened. "And I suggest you pay what's due before I make you."
Make him? Ohhhh, this kid had a tombstone waiting for 'em somewhere. Joey ducked his shoulder back and turned to stand in the brunet's face, fists strangling the plastic handles. "Go ahead and try. I'm right here."
"Don't ask for something you can't handle. Remember what happened last time?"
"I sure do. So remind me just who was it that had the gun in his face?"
"Right, because only a gang member would pull a bitch move like that!"
Joey's trigger finger twitched. He had three concealed weapons on his person: a switchblade, a pistol, and pack of razors. At any given moment, he could take this brat out with a single stroke. There was just this nagging aggravation in the back of his head refusing to leave him be. That, and the way those dark brown eyes kept piercing Joey like he was the cruelest man on earth.
Tristan's body propelled forward so suddenly, Joey's arm snuck out and caught the teen by the shoulders to balance him on his feet. The brunet was just as surprised as the blond when he turned around to cuss out the person who pushed him, only to discover it was the waitress from behind the counter.
"Are you trying to get me fired, Tristan?" the dark haired girl hissed.
Tristan gave her a blank expression. "Get you fired? What gives, Tea? I was trying to get your money!"
Tea glared at Tristan a full ten seconds. She looked at Joey and they softened. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wheeler. He's a friend of mine. I called him here to give me a ride home. I didn't think he'd cause you trouble."
Tristan cocked an eyebrow, getting more confused. "Why're you kissin' up to this douche, T?"
Tea looked ready to slap him in the face. "This douche owns this business, Tristan. He bought out the building from Mr. Jason after he couldn't afford the rent."
Still not convinced, Tristan looked Joey up and down like he'd sprouted fungus. "How'd he convince Mr. Jason to sell out? I bet'cha he forced the old man's hand—"
"Tristan!" Tea said, outraged. "It was nothin' like that. Mr. Wheeler bought the building but Mr. Jason still runs it. If he hadn't helped when he had, Mr. Jason would've been put out."
"But . . . he only did it for his own selfish reasons," Tristan defended, feeling put off. "You can't honestly believe he's legit, Tea."
"Whatever he does outside of here isn't any of my business, just like it isn't yours. I only know what I've seen him do here." Tea turned her back to Tristan once more and bowed, repeatedly to the quiet Joey. "Please forgive him, sir. I swear he won't do it again."
Joey tossed her a bored look. "It's cool, T." He turned his head in Tristan's direction and thrust his hand forward. "I'm sure it was an honest misunderstandin', yeah?"
The hand was held out so close it left Tristan with little choice but to shake it. This would be the first time they willingly touched one another and when they did, a bone deep chill raced up Tristan's arm. This Joey guy had a very strong grip, but that was no surprise. He was a man used to toughening out any situation. Tristan's scowl relaxed into a small smile, but unlike the last time, Joey didn't return the gesture.
Joey's cinnamon brown eyes were murky as a glass of hot water. His grip constricted Tristan's hand a second longer letting go and going off downstairs.
Tea sucked her teeth and sighed, going back to finish cleaning behind the counters. Tristan tried to explain himself to her but she kept her back to him and excused herself to the kitchen to do more cleaning. Tristan stretched every excuse he could imagine until it was thin as saran wrap. Listening to his reasons, though, were starting to sound dumber and dumber.
His pride was trying to help redeem him of his ignorance because that was twice he'd misjudged Joey's personality.
Tea came out thirty minutes later, ready to head home. By then, Tristan had made up his mind to offer an apology. Tristan could imagine the scolding Yugi would give him for being so hard on a man he barely knew.
Insanity Billiard was drawing down to a close, the night creeping in sheets of humidity and fog. Tea finished locking up the building when Joey and a dark skinned man exited out of the side door. Joey merely glanced at Tristan, said something to his friend and the pair started off down the sidewalk.
"Ho-hold on a sec, Tea. I wanna do something."
Tea tugged at the straps on her trench coat. She peeked around Tristan's body and froze. "You aren't going to start another fight, are you?"
"No, just-just wait here, will ya?"
Tristan patted her shoulder assuredly and sprinted to catch up with Joey's speedy pace. It'd be nice to put aside this stupidity and move pass it. They didn't have to look at each other ever again, but at least this wouldn't be hovering over Tristan's head.
"Hey!" Tristan hollered to Joey's back. "Wait a sec!"
He asked and so, Joey did, waving for Akefia to continue without him. The blond took his time facing Tristan when he came up to stand by his side.
A very odd, almost warming bubble sensation started to flutter in Tristan's gut when those brown eyes locked with his. They weren't shimmering with anger, or annoyance. There was only a patient curiosity. Tristan hadn't expected to be given a chance so easily, considering how he'd treated him. Now that he had it, what could he say? 'I'm sorry' didn't seem sufficient.
"I'm listenin'," Joey calmly said, folding his arms. "Today, if ya don't mind."
Tristan nodded, "Yeah, so, um." He scratched behind his head, at a loss for words. He found looking at his shuffling his feet, not as overwhelming to gaze at as that intense gaze. Tristan inhaled and exhaled hard when he found the courage to speak. "My bad, about before. If I offended you, it wasn't intentionally malicious. It's not often you find a gang member doin' good."
Tristan words got tangled in his throat and not once had he had the balls to look in those possibly accusing eyes.
Joey's body edged closer, closing off any space that may have been left between them. Finally, Joey's head evened with Tristan's, tipping his chin up with a finger.
"The next time ya come at me like that again, there won't be any second or third chances. I'm gonna to hurt you like I don't know ya. You understand me?" Joey accented voice said, cold and clear. "Do You understand me?" He repeated a slower after a long pause and no reply.
And Tristan couldn't be blamed for that. This man's presence was producing predatory vibes. Tristan knew without a doubt, just as before, if Joey really wanted to hurt him, he could do it without blinking. And yet he hadn't. Tristan's senses seemed to kick into overdrive, suddenly noticing the smallest traits and details about Joey.
The blond, in his own street greasy way, was handsome. He was tall and partially slim with a healthy bulk of muscle clearly visible under his clothes. His thick, dark gold hair was combed in a messy disarray that suited him, and hung pass his eyebrows, hiding his biscuit brown eyes; the same dark eyes stripping Tristan down bit by bit with a simple glare.
"Yeah," Tristan murmured. "Yeah, I got ya."
It was a long while of Joey's eyes skating over Tristan's face as if searching. Soon Joey's hand, finger extended and traced the pointy angle of Tristan's jaw. Tristan sucked in and stopped breathing for as long as the finger stayed touching him.
"Ya know," Joey started, dropping his hand. "I . . . um."
"What?" Tristan said, mentally cursing himself for sounding breathless.
Joey moved closer, thought about it, then shook his head. "Nothin'. I'll catch ya later, kid." He flung a weak wave over his shoulder, pivoted on his heel and left.
Tristan stared after Joey's retreating back, a very slow smirk tilting the corner of his lips up. That hadn't gone at all how he'd expected. But Tristan was secretly glad it had happened. Joey wasn't such a bad guy after all.
This week had flown by so quickly, Yugi realized as he forged through his closet for the perfect outfit. He felt like he was preparing himself for a regular date when this was just a casual outing with a bossy father and his lovable daughter. Yugi had a terry towel wrapped around his waist. His was hair fuzzy and damp from a shower and the scent of Irish spring body wash floating off his body.
So far he had two full formal/casual outfits laid out for inspection. The first one was a pair khaki dress slacks with a red short-sleeve button up top, a black three button vest, dark tan Timberland boots and an onyx and platinum rosary necklace. The second one was a smoke grey Ralph Lauren V-neck sweater, a royal blue necktie, a white dress shirt, dark blue jeans and his black Converse shoes. He agonizingly debated over his decision for minutes, pacing back and forth. He knew this was tough, but he was also thinking about how he was going to convince his grandfather to let him go.
Hell, it would serve Atem right to meet Solomon Muto and be told face to face that his grandson was still grounded. Yugi glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on his nightstand. It read 6:57 p.m. Atem said to be ready by seven, so. . .
"Whatever," Yugi grumbled. He picked the first outfit and quickly dunned it on, neatly stuffing his shirt in, buckling his belt ad tying his shoes. As for his hair, Yugi allowed it to air dry the rest of the way and combed it all down, pinching his banes so they framed his face. After spraying on some Axe, Yugi headed out of his room, fully expecting to be told to head back to his room.
When he walked downstairs into the living room, Yugi immediately locked up. His grandfather was leaning across the counter, carrying a conversation with a man who seemed capable of always stealing Yugi's breath away.
Atem was impeccably dressed in an Alfredo tux with a matching metallic bronze vest and tie, a white button up dress shirt, gold cuff links and leather dress shoes. His hair was combed and separated in its signature five spikes, and his dark blond banes flared across his forehead. Seeing Atem again should've put Yugi on the defensive but it clearly wasn't the case.
Jesus, if Atem didn't look like a man who defined sexy. He literally sweated the word from his pores.
Atem had his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side, fully engaged with a cool conversation with Solomon. For the briefest moment, his autumn cool eyes flickered in Yugi's direction. It happened too fast for his grandfather to notice and much too slow for Yugi to feel like he'd just been transported through a furnace. Yugi swallowed the saliva in his mouth, and loudly cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Now Atem openly gazed up at Yugi's face and had no excuse to look away. Yugi's stomach performed gymnastics and his heart pitty patted in his rib cage, as he was left frozen in place. Their eyes were locked until Yugi averted his gaze to his grandfather.
"Yugi, you never said you were a friend of Atem Hassan."
Yugi paused at the bottom stair, confused. "You know each other?"
"Of course, I'm surprised you didn't know," Solomon happily said. "He says he's an old friend of Heba's."
"He's—he's what?!"
Atem cockily grinned. "I hadn't known my Heba and your Heba were one in the same. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you and him were related. Me and your brother," Atem softly chuckled. "We go way back."
Yugi was baffled and incredibly cautious now. Something didn't seem right. Yugi would've remembered seeing Atem when he was a child. . .
"YUGI!"
Yugi jumped at the sudden shriek and looked down to find a bubbly child running toward. Kisara stopped in front of him, looking up with large fascinated blue eyes. She was wearing a sleeveless white and pink flora print dress with a rose colored sash tied around her waist and a rose headband pushing back all of her fine white hair. On her feet were polished magenta baby doll shoes, both with rose ribbons.
"I'm so happy to see you!" the girl exclaimed happily and then stretched out her arms commandingly. "Pick me up!"
Yugi did, and grunted a little as he settled the girl into a hug. She was heavier than she looked, especially for someone who looked as frail as a snowflake. Knowing Atem, Yugi had no doubt she was well fed and not allowed to do a lot of physical activities.
The child snuggled against his chest, twitched her rosebud lips, and grasped her fingers in his shirt. "I missed you, friend."
Yugi smiled softly and tenderly stroked her amazingly fine white hair with his fingertips. "I missed you too." He took a deep sniff of her fresh scent and sighed. She was a very sweet girl. How on earth did she wind up with a father so impossible to deal with?
"I suppose we should be off," Atem announced, he held out his hand to shake Solomon's. "It was good talking to you, Solomon, but we should go if I'm gonna have Yugi back by curfew."
"No problem, no problem at all," Solomon waved off.
Yugi looked between the two. "It's alright, Grandpa?"
Solomon's face tenderly relaxed. "In this case, my boy, I'll make an exception. I had no idea Heba had any friends, so why not?"
"If you're sure." Yugi guessed that was a good way of putting it. "OK, we'll be back in a while."
Kisara refused to leave his arms when they left the game shop. The sky was dimmed and newly lit from the moon's soft silver glow. Atem's car, a dazzling onyx black 2013 Malibu was parked off in the shadows, camouflaged into the scenery.
A warm hand came to settle in the middle of Yugi's back and pressed. "You look exquisite." Atem's mouth was dipped low, so that his lips framed the entire shell of Yugi's ear, forcing the tremors to rake his skeleton like a plucked violin string.
Yugi congratulated himself for not swaying in place. "You don't look so bad yourself." The car revved to life when Atem pressed a button. Kisara was buckled into the back seat after promising she'd get to talk to Yugi some more. Yugi settled himself inside the cool interior, unable to resist running his palm along the smoothly groomed suave material. The interior lights reflected blue and white off their faces and the hum of Take You Out, by Luther Vandross. The car was put in drive and together, the threesome journeyed off into Domino City.
"You've got some explaining to do," Yugi mumbled for Atem's ears. "I expect answers."
"And we'll see if you deserve to know 'em," Atem said.
Shay la Belle
Shay la Belle was well reputed for its ability to serve multi-cultural dishes.
The building was two stories tall and colored a rich crème and eggshell shade. Colossal pillars flanked the entrance way, and dark grey marble stairs lead up to the large cherry wood door. There were only ten cars in the entire parking lot when they arrived. It was the strangest thing to find one of the most prestigious restaurants in the whole city would be so . . . so scarce of customers. Yugi picked Kisara up from the back seat and settled her on his hip as Atem escorted them there. They walked in and stood at the mouth of the restaurant, waiting for the host to fetch them.
It wasn't a long wait at all. A tall man, thin as a broom came forth and ushered them in.
The place was breathtakingly beautiful. Intricate colored tiles of white, silver, and platinum ringlet crystals blossomed into whirlwind patterns, raining from the ceiling. It created an illusion appearance of diamonds in an eternal descent. The interior design was a finely woven tapestry like something from the Victoria era of the 1800s. Everything, the tables, the plush carpet, the chairs, table clothes, flowery decorations, were all white. The soft shine and perfectly groomed interior shun with an unseen light. A wrap around stairwell lead to a small around portion that curved and floated above the second floor, visible for everyone to see from above and below.
Yugi felt like a child wandering alone in an enchanted castle. They were guided up the stairs to a single table set for three. The chairs were made of the gentlest cushion, so thick, Yugi sunk down and bounced. As beautiful as the décor was, Yugi found it stunning that there wasn't a single person here to enjoy the theme as much as he was. Only the associates, dressed in black tuxedos resided inside.
Kisara was helped into a booster seat and given a box of crayons and a coloring book to keep her entertained. Two large menus were placed in front of them.
Yugi grasped his menu, face swiveling from side to side, wondering when more customers would arrive. Perhaps they'd arrived earlier than the others. Some fancy restaurants didn't open until late in the evening anyway.
"I've had the place reserved," Atem said out of the blue. Yugi blinked at him, caught in the act. "Your face is easy to read." Atem continued when Yugi's eyes widened in question.
"The entire restaurant?"
"Yes, we're here to learn about one another." Atem snapped the menu shut and placed it to the side. "I don't want any interruptions. This is a special evening for the three of us."
The waiter returned to take their orders.
"We'll have a pitcher of sweet tea, and a bottle of red wine," Atem said. "We'll start with the Ful Medames with buttered bread buns as an appetizer."
"Very good sir." The waiter jotted the order down on his notepad. "And for dinner?"
"I'll have the baked seasoned salmon with lemon, steamed broccoli and squash, and fried red potatoes," Atem ranted off. "And she'll have a small dish of macaroni and cheese, buttered corn, six chicken nuggets and have her ketchup placed on the side."
"Yes sir and what for your young friend?"
"He'll have—"
"Whatever I order for myself, thanks," Yugi interrupted smoothly, drawing a shocked expression from the waiter and a dark one from Atem, which he blatantly ignored. "I want the ten ounce sirloin, the mashed potatoes with lite garlic, and buttered Brussels sprouts mixed with bacon." Yugi closed the menu and held it out for the waiter to take.
The waiter just looked at the stretched out menu like it glowed of fire. His eyes nervously glanced at Atem, for some reason and stayed trained there. Heat flustered from the pit of Atem's eyes like the rage of a volcanic explosion. Yugi blinked, unsure he'd just witnessed a demonic possession or if this man was really looking at him with a murderous expression.
"It's fine, Roberto," Atem coolly said. The waiter's body visibly deflated with relief and bowed before taking the menus and leaving.
Tension hugged the table for a long moment. Yugi's eyes averted to the side to stare out a window, rather than to be penetrated with the deadly glare he felt was burning a hole in his face. The silence was so deafly, even Kisara noticed the sudden disturbance and stopped coloring. She glanced at her father and gasped.
"Daddy!" she scolded, dropping her crayon. "You're making the Halloween face again."
"Kisara," Atem deeply begun. "Color your pictures, baby. Daddy's gonna have a little talk with Yugi."
Atem moistened his lips and interlocked his fingers under his chin, gazing sharply at the young man across from him. Yugi's face was creased in a tight frown, his bottom lip poked out and if it weren't for how cute he looked, Atem would've been sent the brat in off with half a face. Those dark purple eyes were on fire.
"Young buck," Atem started coldly, "don't you ever, for as long as you breathe, undermine me in public again."
Yugi braced himself before the shocking impact of those words could make him react. He held his head high and turned to look Atem square in the eye. "And for as long as we know each other, don't you dare treat me like I don't have a mouth. I'm fed up with how you've forced yourself into my life. You act like it's perfectly fine to rule people's lives and throw commands. I'm up to here," Yugi raised his hand to eye level, "with your bossy attitude. I've nearly reached the point of not giving a damn what you do, or whatever life you live. I won't let you won't treat me poorly. I won't allow it."
Atem narrowed his eyes. "You'd be wise to watch your tongue before its cut out, young buck. I say what goes, because I will it. If I want it, I will take it. Just as I wanted you to come here with me, it wasn't a request. You are here now because I want you to be. Just as the rest of this evening goes on, you'll sit here, enjoy this meal and we'll chat about me being the T.O.G. of the Blue Eye Aces and you, being a humble high school student."
The T.O.G. of what?
Yugi reeled, and nearly dropped a hand to grip the side of his chair. His stomach, however continued to sink through his feet and through the floor and somewhere deep in a frozen hell. Yugi shook himself, the way a dog would of water and wrapped his arms around his middle. His stomach churned, sickly and when he glanced up to see Atem's face, hoping for signs that he was merely joking, Yugi wasn't so lucky.
It made him feel worst. Yugi took a deep breath, calming his instinctive desire to lash out with boiled anger, but reframed out of common sense and the sake of a child.
"That's why you asked if I was associated with any gangs when we met, wasn't it?" Yugi dryly whispered, licking his lips. "I can't believe this."
The Merlot red wine and sweet tea were brought to the table and served in sparkling glasses and Kisara's in a plastic cup.
Atem had been right. Yugi should be afraid of him and very much so. Yugi had heard tales as twisted and diabolical as Yami's, some more gruesome and twice as tortuous. The only thing here was, hardly anyone knew who the Blue Eyes leader was. No one knew what he looked like, whether he was male or female or his race. They just knew he existed and wasn't someone to trifle with.
And here Yugi was seeing the legendary man in the flesh as a devilishly handsome deviant.
Atem sipped from his wine glass, eyes never leaving Yugi's delirious expression. "Now that you know, what does this mean for us?"
"There isn't an us. I can't think of there ever being an us," Yugi rambled. "Christ, why would you put me in this situation? Why didn't you tell me who you were before?"
"I had to be careful. You didn't leave me a lot of options, you realize; being that you were a resident of the Red Eye Territory, I needed time to observe you and see if you weren't going to be a liability."
"Don't talk about me like I'm an insurance claim! I told you from the start what I was and who I was. I held nothing back from you!"
"That was your mistake, not mine. I never asked you to dump your entire life story on me. Besides, it wasn't only my safety I had to be concerned over." Atem reached out his hand and cupped it on top of Kisara's head, gently combing through her hair. "However, if you want to know a secret as deep as your life, then I have no problem eventually telling you. It'd be a even trade."
Yugi leaned back in his chair, ignoring the forlorn twitch in his chest. This was dangerous, no matter how calm and decent Atem was acting. Tristan had warned him messing around with older men would get him into trouble. Yugi never realized it'd be up to this magnitude.
He folded his arms on the table top. "Alright," he said. "Fair enough, but I wanna know how you know my brother."
"That would be two secrets. I'll only give you the first, because it's not my place to discuss the second."
"It concerns my brother," Yugi hissed. "I have every right to know!"
Atem's hand fell from his daughter's head so he could have everything part of his body facing Yugi. "You've raised your voice one too many times for my tastes, young buck. Just what the fuck gives you the gull to talk to me like that?"
"Either tell me or take me home!" Yugi said, totally disregarding the fact that he was talking to a man with a rap sheet as thick as a dictionary. His entire body was shaking. He was beyond angry and just through. Here was a chance to discover an unknown piece of Heba, just a little bit of something to renew his memory and Atem wouldn't tell him.
Atem's gaze electrified several shades and twinkled with a hint of amusement. "You're a cute lil' thing when you're all mad. Has anyone ever told you that?"
The statement Yugi had prepared in his mind vanished without a trace when comprehension melted in. "Huh?"
"I said you're cute. You get all huffy and shit, like a poodle trying to be a pit bull." Atem winked over the rim of his wine flute as he took another sip.
All of Yugi's previous anger left him in a big swoosh. That was twice he'd been called cute; first by Yami and now Atem. Yugi couldn't even remember why he'd gotten upset or what he'd been mad about. Only Atem's crooked smirk and sexy wink flew around, ping ponging off the walls of Yugi's brain.
"We'll talk about that stuff later. I have a proportion to offer you." Atem's crooked smile widened as reached his hand out, letting the tips of his slender fingers rub and tease the top of Yugi's knuckles.
"Um, what is it?"
Atem's fingers grazed the creases in Yugi's flat palm, drawing his tips along the ridges so soft it didn't feel like they were touching Yugi at all.
"A little compensation. For my secrets, I'll need you to help me handle a small problem. A sort of an itch, if you would."
"An itch?"
"Yes." Atem leaned in closer. "You see, I've always had my mind focused purely on my business, my family and my money. But lately, a certain someone's been occupying my mind with his pretty face. I need you to scratch this itch."
Was he . . . was he asking Yugi too. . . Yugi frowned, and pulled his hand away. "What are you asking me?" He decided to be blunt because playing too stupid would probably lead to a stupid answer.
"Let me fuck you."
Yugi blinked. He blinked again and looked at Kisara to be sure she wasn't paying attention and for extra measure, checked around to be sure no one else was around to hear how Atem so bluntly said he wanted to fuck.
Yugi cleared his throat as a glowing blush rose from his shirt and to his face. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"You don't know me and I'm not for casual, um, fucks." Yugi took a sip of his sweet tea to wash away the filthy ideas running through his head. His teenage hormones didn't need an opportunity like this thrown at him so willy nilly.
Atem shrugged. "I'm grown, young buck. I don't have time to court, wait and then fuck. You're a healthy young man and I'm in my sexual prime. It's no secret we're attracted to each other. I assuredly think you're sexy and I know you want me." Another wink was thrown.
Yugi choked on his drink. Damn, he was so forward. "Atem, I . . . I. . ." Yugi was stuck and at a total loss for words.
"Why shouldn't we?"
"Because it isn't right."
Atem barked a short laugh. "In who's rule book? Come on, Yugi. What isn't right about two men giving into their needs with someone who's willing to give it to you? You don't even have to do it for free."
"I'm not some cheap hoe—"
"Of course not," Atem coolly interrupted. "You'll be my special kind of lover. I want someone who enjoys battling me. I love that about you. You give me a reason to stay on my toes and I'd love to see that fire spawned over my sheets."
"I, Atem, we can't," Yugi stuttered, shaking his head. "You have a child. What would your gang think? How could you even. . . God, just no."
Atem dramatically sighed. "Yugi, Yugi, Yugi, why in the hell should I care what my gang thinks? It's my gang. Mine. If I decided to go fuck a fire hydrant, they'd keep walking."
Yugi laughed, sweetness pouring from his lips because the very idea of the big bag Blue Eyes leader humping a fire hydrant was outrageous.
But then again, so was talking to him face to face and learning he knew a part of your brother's life that you didn't. That made Yugi sober up right away. He'd had casual sex before. When he said it wasn't right, it was just strange. Yugi still barely knew much about Atem and it's only been two weeks. It seemed to be happening so fast.
"Will you give me a chance to think about it?" Yugi requested.
Atem nodded. "If that is what you wish."
"It is and next time, let's get everything out in the open, OK?"
"Will there be a next time?"
Silence, then Yugi smirked. "Yeah . . . maybe, hell I don't know. We'll see."
"We shall."
The waiter chose the perfect moment to bring out everyone's meals. They ate in pleasant company, sometimes Yugi catching Atem's eyes watching him and Kisara towards the end of the dinner, dominating the conversation. She talked about school, her favorite colors, what games her and Yugi could play and everything.
Throughout the rest of the night, Yugi hadn't noticed how comfortable he'd gotten with the family. As if they weren't blue bloods at all.
It was on the drive back home when it dawned on him, that he was messing around with not only Atem but Yami as well.
At this rate, Yugi was going to get himself killed. . .
It was a ridiculous idea to come out here in the middle of the night, but Yami needed to see him. Yugi was his only connection now and his only piece of Heba remaining on this earth. If Yami could learn a little more, than this drugging sensation would vanish and he could go about his merry way.
Yami was dressed in a red wife beater, a sleeveless gray hoodie and matching gray sweat pants with low top Forces. He'd decided on a whim to speak to Yugi, just for a moment to learn a little of Heba's life; just the pieces Yami hadn't known Heba had kept from him. They'd been so close to each other back then; he couldn't understand why Heba would keep this part of his life a secret.
Yami gritted his head, and ran a tired hand through his messy locks. Yami kept telling himself it was stupid of him to waste his time like this. He had no business being parked outside the Kame Shop in the middle of the fucking night. Yugi was probably out with his friends or inside sleeping.
Wisps of red dawn drifted off the end of Yami's blunt as he thumbed through his music selection and stopped when Chaka Khan's music started giving him some old familiar vibes. His dark eyes half way closed to the effects of his smoke and the music roaming freely in his car.
Two bright headlights cast through the interior of his car. Yami sat up and turned off his car. That was probably Yugi with one of his friends. Yami put his hand on the door handle, feeling the pinch of a grin growing on his face. Yeah, he was fighting to admit it but seeing those big purple eyes did something scary to his gut and he was starting to like the way it tickled.
When the car pulled to a stop ahead of him, instead of seeing Yugi come out, Yami saw another face; the face of someone that set his blood boiling.
What the fuck? Atem? What the hell was he doing here?
Yami's hand patted around until landing on his glock. He started to leave his vehicle, assuming Atem was discreetly trying to push into his land. It didn't seem that way at all, when Yugi came out grinning like he'd found candy land. What the hell was going on? Yugi said he wasn't into this gang shit. So why was he hanging around with Atem—
Yami knew the instant his sanity exploded when he saw Atem walk Yugi to the front door and before the teen could enter, he was pulled into a savage kiss.
With his heart straining to beat out of his chest and his teeth grinding hard enough to crack, Yami kicked his door open and stepped out, holding his gun. So that's how Yugi was playing it then. It became rapidly clear what Yugi was up too. He was into that dangerous shit. That's fine. Yami would give it to him.
The apple didn't fall too far from the tree it seemed.
Nothing but a fucking hoe!
Yami took aim and pulled the trigger.