A/N: And now the story takes another turn for the worse...but don't worry, everything that goes down must go up! Isn't that how the saying goes? Well, maybe not in physics, but in my writing it certainly is true xD
Disclaimer: Not Mine!
He looked up as she slapped down a rectangular golden coloured piece of paper. The ends zigzagged and he moved his gaze from it to the woman standing in front of him. Anzu was practically glowing, rosy cheeks lit up happily and she smiled at him, amber eyes sparkling beautifully.
His attention was immediately caught, folding his hands in front of him. Class had just let out and she only had about five minutes before she had to get to class.
"I know this is super short notice, but it took me a long time to convince sensei to give me an extra ticket. The recital performances are this evening and the auditorium is almost fully booked already! All the seniors will be showcasing their partner dances, which will be graded as part of our final examinations. Oh Yami, there'll be scouts from all over the place with front row seats! I'm so excited!" She squealed, practically dancing right there on the spot.
Noticing that he hadn't said a word except to give her a hollow smile she grabbed some self control, scooping up his hand in hers as she calmed a little.
"I really want you to come tonight, it's really important to me, and it might be enough to snap you out of your funk," she said in a teasingly strict voice. He frowned. She had noticed that he was in a 'funk'?
"Um...I'm a little busy tonight...but I'll see if I can come," he said with an almost-reassuring smile that faltered when her own smile dropped right away.
"Busy? With what?" She demanded, hurt welling up inside. She wasn't stupid, despite the fact that he was accepting the ticket and his words said yes his expression said no. Didn't he hear her when she said this was extremely important to her?
"Just stuff," he said light heartedly with a shrug, releasing her hand with a squeeze as he avoided her gaze.
"Right, just stuff," she said weakly suddenly feel weak in the knees and not in the nice he-just-swept-me-off-my-feet kind of way, it was the, you-just-kicked-me-while-I-was-down kind of way. Backing up quickly as she widened her eyes against the sudden sting of tears, she cursed internally.
Whatever had him all depressed over the past week would blow over eventually or he'd have told her already. It hurt her deeply that he wasn't considering her feelings in this matter, he could at least show up for goodness sake, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything.
Things were falling apart badly enough as it was.
"Um I'll...I'm just gonna go," She blurted and spun around, walking out the door quickly before she could let herself get any weaker and cry in front of him. He'd already seen her cry twice before and she didn't need to add a third, nor did she need to cry at all.
It was just a dance recital after all. Okay the most important dance recital of her career thus far but...well yah; it was a big deal that he was missing it especially because she went out of her way to buy him a ticket.
He watched her go, feeling the heavy fog of depression smothering him once again. Things had been so good between them and he desperately wanted to lift himself out of this pit to get back to that, nothing in his twisted mind could blame her for this rift.
He was doing it to himself and the thought just made him even more depressed. He didn't even have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore. Her body language conveyed hurt and confusion but even then she didn't push him for answers...he loved her so much...
That didn't change things though.
...
He found himself standing by the wooden cabinet of his living room later that evening, the day seeming to pass in the blink of an eye. He couldn't have told you what he had or hadn't done already that day for the life of him.
The image that stood out most clearly to him was Anzu's devastated face when he basically told her he wasn't coming this evening. She was probably already there, primping up and getting ready for her show.
He hoped she wasn't too distracted by his absence. The second he thought it he scoffed at himself, reaching inside the pantry for two bottles of Yellowtail Merlot. It was dry, bitter stuff but it would knock him out pretty quickly.
Who was he to even think she'd be distracted by his presence or lack thereof?
Well that was a stupid thought to, she was obviously upset earlier.
His thoughts were so convoluted and confused he was barely thinking at all in the essence of the matter. All these worries on top of the major elephant in the room were only making things worse as he started to develop a migraine.
Popping the cork of a bottle he looked at it distastefully before taking a gulp of the wine and shuddering at the taste. Like drinking tar in his opinion. He didn't know why he did this to himself; it just seemed to be the only way to dull the fear.
Why was he so out of sorts lately?
Today was three years.
Three years of what exactly?
Three years of having his own body in this cursed time, where he was doomed to fall into a depression just thinking about everything that happened over the past three years and even before that.
The event only weeks ago where he judged that tailor and Anzu's reaction only made it worse. He loved her so much and her clear disgust with him no matter how short lived made him hate himself more. He hated having to judge peoples souls. It was his job, his purpose but he didn't have to like it.
Sometimes he did though.
Knowing he had such unstoppable power and the thrill of the game...then he felt sick with himself.
Everything was a mess, the only thing he truly knew were his feelings for Anzu who was the brightest hikari he could ever ask for in his darkened, jumbled life. It didn't help that he'd fucked that up royally by turning her down tonight.
Ra he hated himself sometimes. He was so pathetic.
As though answering his thoughts the phone rang. As though in a trance he picked it up, pressing the talk button, then cursing himself. What if it was Anzu? What would he say to her? Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, it wasn't.
"Where the hell do you think you are?" An angry voice demanded without even an introduction which led him to the conclusion that it could only be one person: Ishtar. Stupid dance partner pretty boy. Yami tried to dredge up his usual jealousy and anger towards the other man but barely got a stir inside.
That was even more pathetic than usual.
"At home," he answered bluntly, spinning the bottle in his hands then taking another gulp. He hadn't had even close to enough to become even a little tipsy. His body was physically weak from being more fake then real (how depressing, really) so it didn't take much to get him drunk, but two gulps wouldn't cut it.
"Are you drinking?" Ishtar asked suspiciously as though he could smell it through the phone though it was more likely he could hear the sloshing of the bottle.
"So what if I am?" Yami asked, screwing himself over again and not really caring.
"Oh, fuck you, you stayed home from the most important day of her life to drink? You're even more of a jackass then I thought you were!" Ishtar shouted furiously at him.
"Temper, temper," Yami replied dully.
"Are you already drunk?" The other asked after a small pause, interrupted by someone telling him to stop shouting so loudly since the performances were set to start in under fifteen minutes.
"No, you interrupted me."
"You sound like you are."
"I'm depressed, have you ever heard of it? You would be to if you were a three thousand year old ex-pharaoh trapped inside the illusion of a body for exactly three years to this date," he snapped back. He wanted to wallow in his despair but Ishtar was starting to get to him.
Marik glared at the phone on his end, thinking hard. Mostly he'd called just to yell at Yami because Anzu was all upset right before their final performance. She performed better when she was upset but he wasn't about to admit that to Yami because, well, that would mean admitting he called as a friend and not as her dance partner which he had too much pride to do.
Still, if this was his 'anniversary' it made a little more sense why he was suddenly too depressed to drag his ass out the door. That just meant Marik had to make him un-depressed enough to get him over to the school. He knew from his own experience that even anger was better than depression.
Any emotion at all was.
"Yah, well personally I don't care how you feel, I care about Anzu which, if I'm not mistaken which I may be from the way you're acting, you do to. She's heartbroken over you, though I don't know why she'd want a self-centered fuck like you but I'll be damned if she screws up because of you. You spend the whole year stringing her along and distracting her and now this! You're not worth her," he spat coldly, feeling only a tiny bit guilty at his own words.
As long as Anzu never found out it wouldn't matter, he rationalized. He shuddered to imagine how Ryou would react if he found out.
"I have not 'strung her along'," Yami balked at the term verbally, obviously offended. "I love her, I just...can't...show her right now," He actually sounded legitimately miserable.
"So go out and buy a gun, put it in your mouth, and shoot yourself!" Marik instructed him angrily; not sure if it was a good idea to provoke a depressed guy with ideas of death but if he could get passionate over Anzu, he could probably get angry to.
"I'm not going to" –
"You should if you don't show up tonight. Fucking pansy, suck it up! We've all had shit happen. Do you know my past? No you don't, you don't want to know my past, it would probably make you crap yourself. But I'm still here, even if I wasn't dancing, even if this was the anniversary of the day my otou-san" –he cut himself off before he could go into overkill mode and actually scare Mutou-san.
Gripping the phone tighter he said in a deadly tone, "I would be here for Ryou. That's how you show someone you love them, by putting their feelings first. If you can be angry at me than you can be here for her. Now get up and fight, pussy," he spat his final insult then snapped his cell phone shut angrily.
He hoped Yami liked to hear the sound of the dial tone because he was pissed, mostly at himself. Anzu hadn't asked him to go out and call him like that but he couldn't stand to see her and, in turn, Ryou, so upset.
He had lost himself in his anger and almost spilled one of his own dark fears, an old dusty memory.
Rubbing his temples he prayed to Ra that Mutou-san would come to his senses in time...
...
Anzu drew a shaky breath, trying to hold in all her nerves and hurtful feelings as Miho did the finishing touches on her makeup.
"You'll knock them dead," Miho encouraged, sliding the mascara brush back into its container but her words were sad as her mouth turned down at the corners, seeing how miserable her friend was.
"He hasn't called?" She asked softly and Anzu shook her head sadly no. She still hadn't cried and she wasn't going to until she confronted Yami directly.
"He's not coming," she said with a heavily weighted sigh on the end, glad her hair was held up off her face in a pile of curls or she would be running her hands through it and wrecking it up. As it was, the girl she saw in the mirror looked like a much older, dolled up version of herself.
Her first dress, a champagne gold coloured one for the jazz number, with its puffy skirt and simple bodice reminded her of something you might graduate from middle school in, but they were going for innocent except for her face with its dark striking make up that would stand out even from the audience against her ivory skin tone.
Her shoes added to the more serious look with the many straps and gargantuan heels that made them appear very hooker like. It had taken her a lot of dancing lessons to get used to moving in them at all. Marik nearly killed her for 'biting off more then she could chew'.
She refused to give in though, and in his own quiet way, she could tell Marik had been proud of her for managing it in the end. Of course, it was hard to see the point now since Yami wasn't even here to see...she shook her head firmly.
There was no time to think like that. Yami had his reasons for doing what he did and she had hers. Her feelings aside, dance was of utmost importance to her and she was going to be amazing tonight, she had already promised herself and Marik that.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Miho asked as she finished painting Anzu's lips a perfect glossy red that completed the look of innocence mixed with sexy seduction.
"I have to be," she whispered then got a determined look on her face, standing up. She towered over Miho in these heels, having already been taller than her to begin with. Her friend hugged her comfortingly, knowing it would be of little consolation.
The purple haired girl just wished like everyone else that Yami had at least stated a legitimate reason for missing tonight...but there was only one person who knew why not, and the fact that he wasn't here was sort of the problem, wasn't it?
A/N: Awe, this chapter made me sad to write and edit...very sad...although Marik cursing Yami over the phone was admittedly pretty fun to write. Merry Christmas, happy almost-New Years! I will be going to the land of death for awhile which lacks an internet connection, so I will not be able to update this Tuesday...but feel free to drop a review, and know I will update ASAP!
Here's a preview for the next chapter:
Depression? Screw it.
It wasn't worth missing seeing his beautiful Anzu in her element.
Next chapter performances, appearances, and nerves all play equal parts! See you next week!