Leave Out All The Rest

Chapter Six

The moment he got out of the locker room, and walked far away from it to stand outside the gym, Yami leaned against the wall, panting heavily in pain. He doubled over and placed his hands on his knees, trying very hard not to pass out, which was extremely difficult, since his entire chest seemed to be ablaze with pain and his head was aching as though someone thought it was funny to repeatedly pound him on it (a part of the truth, actually).

He felt sick. And not because of what he just ingested just moments ago. He was more like, sick with pain and the fact that he was trying so hard not to pass out while he did such an intimate thing to the one person he could only dream of having in that way and the one person who he knew was hopelessly beyond his reach and beyond what…something like him could ever have.

He knew now that it became really, really hopeless. A day or so ago, he might have brightened up his day a little by telling himself, 'oh Seto Kaiba cares about me,' but now, after what just happened and what he did to the poor guy, he didn't think Seto would even stare at him ever again with any other expression except complete contempt.

It should be okay. It was alright, wasn't it? One extra person staring at him in condescension and as though he was some kind of a stray piece of dirt lying beside a dumpster; that was not a problem, and it shouldn't be a problem. One more person to know that he was really nothing but an unpaid prostitute; that's cool with him, right?

Only it wasn't. It hurt. It stung so badly, he couldn't bear it without having tears slide down his cheeks like they were now. "It's okay, it's okay," he kept whispering, lying to himself, over and over again, with his head leaned on his forearm, which he had placed against the wall. It was not okay, dammit. He hated that now, even the one person he thought cared about him other than Téa, knew he was such a slut.

Eventually, his knees gave way and, with his hand still attempting to hold him up by clinging to the wall, he slid down to sit on the ground in an undignified little heap of pain, tears, shivers and self-pity and self-disgust. He sat there, trying to borrow further into the wall, trying to merge with it and become a non-living thing that people passed by everyday and gave no attention to, because it was much more bearable this way. If he was dead…if he had no life in him, no breath reverberating so painfully in his chest, then it wouldn't hurt this much; this constant horror, constant rejection and derision and constant suffering which he could not find a reason for, and so, came to accept it as an unwanted bonus to his everyday life.

He was in so much pain…trying to stifle these sobs while his ribcage was half shattered this way. But the worst pain, which was truly killing him inside, was the way he failed royally at repressing those sobs. His pride (he had to snort when the word came to his mind) was depleting more and more than it had already depleted over all those years, with every single choke that overwhelmed him.

He tried to stop; what if someone walked into the corridor and saw him like this? Everything would turn out for the worse, because one of two things was destined to happen. One of those brainless jocks who thought they ruled the school would pass by and have fun beating the shit out of him, something that inevitably lead to his death, for sure. Or, one of the teachers would pass and unwanted questions would be asked. But, he failed at stopping the strong trembles running through his body and the helpless tears running down his face and the sobs choking him and putting him in a lot more agony than he was in already.

And so, what he feared exactly took place. Johnson, the captain of the swimming team who he had knocked into accidentally the other day, walked in at that moment and saw him. Yami wasn't even aware of his presence until he spoke, sarcasm and mockery in his voice, "What you doing down on the floor, punk? Finally learnt your position?"

Yami focused on regulating his breathing and stopping his tears, but failed anyway and he made sure to keep his face buried in his arm which was still on the wall, as he tried to hide his wet, tearful face from view.

But it seemed Johnson was obstinate about getting an answer from him, and Yami flinched when the stupid jock grabbed him by the arm and tried to tug him away while adding, "Looks like you need a real lesson to make sure that you really do know your place, freak!"

Yami, with an extremely huge amount of persistence and self-control, spat back, "No one is a freak around here except you, Johnson. So get the fuck outta my face before I throw up because of your freakiness." At least if he died, he would die with his pride still on him in front of at least one person.

He felt it; Johnson's hand tightened painfully around his arm, indicating that he was about to haul him up and turn him around to give him the beating of his life…well, a beating similar to the beating of his life, since he most probably saw worse than what was about to happen now, but suddenly, another voice was heard in the corridor and Yami mentally groaned.

"Johnson, let go of him. What are you doing? As a sportsperson, I thought you had more honor than to pick on someone smaller than you are, who is not even attempting to harm you in any way," Yami knew the voice and lecturing tone – it had been used to address him in every single P.E. class he had attended for the past three years, he would recognize it anywhere – and he realized with increasing exasperation that Mr. Anderson was the teacher he had been anticipating that they would pass by at that moment. Great, so now not only did one of the jocks pass, but also a teacher…he was doubly-blessed, wasn't he?

He was thankful, though, that Johnson let go of his arm and said, "I was just having a little chat with him. He is not important enough for me to waste time on badgering him," the comment was not insulting, coming from Johnson's mouth. It was true after all, wasn't it? The kid was right. And Yami was alright with that. Everything's cool, everything's alright with Johnson thinking of him as a worthless pile of garbage. He didn't care.

Johnson was gone, thankfully, and Yami tried to pull himself up to his feet and finally managed to do it. However, he kept leaning heavily on the wall, while his hand stealthily rose up to wipe away his tears and rid his face from any evidence of them, as the teacher asked, "Yami, what's wrong?"

With extreme trouble, Yami turned around and shielded his pain with a blank mask and he automatically answered, "Nothing is wrong."

The man stared at him with wrinkling brown eyes and said, "You don't look so good…"

"I am fine," he said, in a snappy, rude tone, trying to make the man go away.

But it was obvious that it was no good, because he just frowned a little and said, "You do not look so good. I think I should take you to the nurse."

"NO!" Yami half-yelled. The man stared at him with a blink, so he bit his lip and muttered, "I said I am fine. Now go away."

Mr. Anderson stood staring down at him with that same, worried –and was that sympathy? - expression and kept doing so until Yami couldn't take it anymore, and was about to walk away, even though he was horrified at how rude that would be, but then Mr. Anderson spoke again and made him freeze on the spot, "Yami…if you are ill and…if it is bothering you so much like it is now…it's okay to tell someone and ask for their help."

Yami prevented a whimper from escaping him, and muttered instead, "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I am talking about the reason you have your arms hidden all the time like that."

Once again, he froze and turned to face the teacher once again, after he had turned around to leave and he frowned in confusion and asked, "How…err…What do you…What do you mean?"

"I mean that there must be a reason for you to always wear full-sleeves like that. And it must be a very good one, because even when you know you'll lose ten marks each time in P.E. you still won't wear the uniform. And I know for sure that you don't wanna lose those ten marks. I can see it in your eyes each time I struck them off," Mr. Anderson said in a convinced voice. Yami watched him, his eyelashes fluttering slightly and his gaze wavering; he was right. He was torn up every single time he saw another part of any future he may have before him get struck off with each P.E. class. Each one of those ten marks meant that his hopes of getting reasonable grades to work, as a waiter even…anything, but get away from the life, the hell, he was living now, were being struck off with them. "So what exactly is that reason you have to lose those ten marks every class to protect?"

Yami bit his lip again and refused to cry as he repeated, "I…I don't know…what you are talking about." Did Téa betray his secret to Mr. Anderson? Did she tell him? What was going on?

He was sick and dizzy with pain, as well as the beginnings of his body's protests against how it went too long without his shot of drugs. But no pain in the world could be compared to the horrific ache in his chest at the thought of Téa betraying him…well, Téa would not betray him; she would never do it to hurt him, get him help, yes, but betray him? No, he knew her too well to understand she would never, ever hurt him. He knew that she was somehow trying to make it up to his deceased twin, that she could not protect him, so she was working on protecting his brother instead. Maybe she did tell Mr. Anderson to help him or whatever she wanted to achieve by doing it, but that didn't make it hurt less. It was also the thought of more people knowing how debased, how dirty and used he really was; the idea itself killed him even more.

But then again, he wasn't really alive, right now, was he? Was this how life was supposed to be like? He never really knew, so it wasn't such a big deal, whether he's alive or not. But to have more people staring at him like the pointless piece of shit he really was…that was unfair.

"If something is bothering you, Yami, you should tell you guardians…" Mr. Anderson was saying in a careful voice.

Yami laughed. He just started to giggle tiredly, leaning on the wall once again. He was aware of the man's bewildered eyes on him, but he didn't care. Oh man, that sounded so damn funny. His eyes watered and his hand rose up to his lips to try and somehow stifle the amused laughter, but it was just so hilarious. Tell his guardian. Sure, why not? Yesterday night was such a suitable time to speak to his father about his stress and problems. After his father's guests left, he was so totally in the correct condition to speak to him. He wondered why he did not do it.

"Yeah, sure…I'll go home today and speak to Dad about that thing that was stressing me out," he said through his helpless giggles, shaking his head in bitter amusement and he pushed off the wall to walk past Mr. Anderson. He paused a little beside him and mumbled, "Th…Thank you…" he could feel the puzzlement…amazement, radiating off the man; the fact that he was thanking someone for something must have really fazed him. He swallowed and added, "Your concern is appreciated."

Mr. Anderson did not say anything; he was probably amazed that someone like Yami knew how to say big words like appreciated and such.

Yami was still laughing when he reached his house. He had wanted to see Téa, but she was surrounded by her friends at going-home time and then later on, she was speaking to Michael, so in both cases, he couldn't afford walking up to her to start a conversation. And besides, he really needed a shot of his heroin, since he barely had time to take one today morning, after he had to take a bath with scalding hot water for over two hours, trying to get rid of the effects of the massacre that was done to his body last night, with as little pain as possible. So he wanted to get to his room in his father's Mansion as soon as he could.

"What the fuck are you laughing about?" he was brought out of his thoughts when his father greeted him with that. Samuel was standing in the hallway with a letter opener in one hand and a few envelopes in the other and he was checking the mail in boredom, his hair ruffled all around his head in a slightly-wet mess. It was obvious that he just came out of the shower, probably he just woke up.

Yami hid his pain and he smiled wider and muttered, "I'm laughing at the time when you were stoned and as high as the fucking roof and you took that fall on your ass in the living room." Do it, kill me, he thought, hoped, prayed as he tried to provoke his father as much as he could. He couldn't bear this anymore.

His answer did as was intended. His father's handsome features contorted into an expression of complete wrath – his father was such a big baby, Yami always knew that that trick worked like magic – and, with the letter opener still in his hand, he threw his stronger body at Yami's and his free hand bunched into a fist and he swung it hard at Yami's face.

He was on the floor within moments, with the side of his face smarting painfully. He could taste blood seeping into his mouth from the corner of his torn lips, pouring on his tongue from the inside of his cheek, as well as feel it trickling down the side of his face from where that fucking ring his father was so fond of wearing, had cut the skin. He swallowed in pain, "Feeling manly today, huh?" he whispered, praying fervently in his head that he would really, really drive Samuel beyond the coming back point. Kill two birds with one stone, or whatever the expression was; he'd die and be free from this hell, as well as send the bastard to jail.

Before his hand could continue its journey to wipe away at the trickle of blood on his cheek, he found pain paralyzing his entire body, when Samuel violently, unemotionally kicked him hard in the ribs. He caught the letter opener by its tip and raised his hand. Yami stared up hazily at him, and he blinked several times, trying to get rid of the horrible image of two copies of his father that his delirious mind and unfocused eyes brought about, and he saw the two versions making a face at him in disgust while his father's hand swung the knife down forcefully.

Yami saw it coming towards him as though in slow motion. Round and round it traveled towards him until it finally made impact. He was so weak, he really couldn't do much but moan out in pain when it cleanly cut through the material of his uniform and got embedded in the right side of his upper chest, right beneath his collarbone.

"Bitch," his father spat out, kicked him once more in the ribs, which made a loud, sickening crunching sound resonate in the hallway, before leaving him lying on his back, with his hand trying to weakly get rid of the letter opener implanted in his body.

It wasn't until a little less than an hour passed since he got home that he finally, with weak, quivering fingers that shook so horribly, managed to draw the knife-like object out of his body and it fell with a clatter to the ceramic floor. He lay there panting heavily, feeling sicker than ever, not only with pain, but with every single breath he took, because he could feel something hard moving inside his chest every time he inhaled or exhaled, and with every movement of that hard thing, he felt a nauseating pain that made his head spin in his skull.

He really needed his shot right now.

He forced himself to get up and, with swaying moves, he got to the base of the staircase where he had fallen yesterday. The thought made his vision darken, so he pushed it away and started ascending the flight of stairs, slowly, trying not to move unnecessarily. Somewhere in the middle of them, he tripped and fell. He couldn't find the energy in himself to get up again, so he crawled the rest of the way up, before he collapsed on his stomach, curled up in a panting, shivering mess at the top of the stairs as he tried to catch his breath. When he got that done, and after he figured out he could not get up at all, he crawled on his hands and knees towards his room.

He raised his hand, trying to reach the knob, but he cried out when his chest area protested harshly and he brought his hand down and took a few deep breaths. He then lifted himself up a little on his knees and he tried again. His hand twisted the knob when it reached it but then his eyes, which had closed in anguish just seconds ago, flew open when he found that the door wouldn't open.

He stared up in terror and he kept twisting the knob over and over again, trying to gain access to his room and access to the only thing that was capable of helping him numb the torturous pain his body was enduring at the moment. But all his attempts failed and realization dawned on him, along with silent horror, that he was once again being denied his heroin.

He sank down lower to the ground, with his hand still on the knob. He turned it again, but the door did not open. He shook his head slowly, disbelieving. No! He had to open the door. He had to open the door by any means possible.

But no matter how many times he tried twisting the knob, it didn't work. The door didn't budge.

It wasn't until about two more hours passed with him attached to the door like that, and his hand trying to open the door, that he realized that he was not going to get into his room anytime soon. His hand sank down, slowly, despairingly. He swallowed, trying not to start sobbing like he really wanted to, but…it was just impossible. It was not that crying would make him feel better; he was already crying, although he was still unaware of it. It wouldn't help him, no; it would actually cause him more pain than he was in actually. But what else could he do?

And so, he sat there, with his knees drawn as close to his chest as his aches would allow, and his face was buried in the corner between the door and the slight protrusion in the wall, as his shoulders shook with the silent sobs that broke through his mouth. Tears were smudging his face, but those had been falling way before he started sobbing so shamelessly. He wanted his drug, now. He really needed it, and he needed it so badly. So, so badly. He was sick with pain; he was being slowly driven mad with it.

He only came around from his delirious pleas to divine powers he had no idea why he still believed in, when Samuel's sarcastic drawl was heard from somewhere above him, "What is my little bitch doing, stuck to the door like that?"

Yami pushed away from the door, and titled his head back to stare at his father pathetically and he pleaded, "Open the door…I…I need…I need the…" a wave of pain hit him and he stopped to gasp noisily.

"You didn't even say please." Samuel remarked in gruesome, disgusting amusement.

Yami's eyes, burning with tears of pain and humiliation, pleaded, just as was demanded, expected of him, "Please! Please open the door…"

Samuel bent down to one knee and he raised his hand to place it on Yami's bloodied, tear-streaked face, making him flinch violently in fear and revulsion. He stared at him with a mock compassionate expression, and he said with narrowed crimson eyes, "Nah. It was too little and too late."

And with easy, casual moves, he hooked his arm under Yami's knees and around his back and lifted him up. Yami tried to thrash out of Samuel's grasp; he knew what was coming. He knew his father was taking him away from what would make the pain stop. He needed the pain to stop. Just stop. He sobbed and pushed away with all of his little might at that moment, "Hush now, Yami. Be a good little boy." Samuel said, tightening his hold on him warningly while kicking the door of his own room open.

Yami went lax in his arms, and, in a very inconsistent action, he averted his face so that he buried it in his father's strong chest, as though this way he would avoid what was coming, although what was coming was done by none other than the person he was hiding his face in their chest.

With almost gentle moves, Samuel placed him down on the bed and made him lie down. Yami stared up at him with bleary, watery crimson eyes and he whimpered, "Dad…please…I really n…need it…please." He was begging. He didn't give a flying fuck about it. He was ready to sell his soul to the devil at the moment just to have the horrible ache, the burning and stinging and pounding in different parts of his body, to just stop.

Samuel's finger rose and he placed it on Yami's mouth, and although the action was so damn confusingly gentle, his smile made all the confusion disappear because of how expectedly evil and cruel it was, "Don't worry…you'll get what you want, Yami."

He was about to sigh out in relief, but then he froze in horror when all hopes he had developed came crashing down on him when his father's fingers started undoing the buttons on his school jacket and caressing the exposed skin on his body with unspeakable, immoral actions that made shivers of disgust shake his body from head to toe. "No…no, please don't…" not again. Not so soon, no, no, no. He couldn't go through this again.

"Be quiet, Yami."

He pushed against the hands running over his body, he tried to get rid of them and the feeling of being dirty wherever they touched, but it was useless. His pain, the crave for his drug and the complete terror he was suffering from made him hilariously weak when compared to his father's strong, muscular body. But he couldn't allow himself to give up just like that. His hands, although shooed away and pinned to his sides many times, kept rising up to try and push away.

He kept that up until Samuel got mad and impatient and struck him on the face hard enough to make his head spin and send him into comforting oblivion.

After he was done throwing up everything he ate that still remained inside him, Seto had sat on the floor of the lockers, beside one of the benches in the middle, so he would try and compose himself and bring himself back from the shock, the terror and revulsion of what just happened. Sure, he actually did consider Téa's suggestion of him and Yami dating, but to have Yami give him a blowjob like that? And he had allowed it. What the hell was wrong with him? For all he knew, he was no better than anyone who hurt Yami and he was most definitely not any better than his father.

He forced himself to get up, because he really did not feel like having any of his classmates seeing him like this. He had to go speak to Yami. He had to find him, apologize, then beat some sense into him that he shouldn't go around offering blowjobs to anyone just like that.

It sounded like a foolproof plan to him at that moment, so he walked out of the locker room and he walked with as much determination as he could muster in his current state, towards the exit of the gym, because he couldn't locate the familiar mass of wild hair anywhere amongst the people inside the gym, but he paused when he heard Mr. Anderson's voice calling him, "Seto, wait." He turned around to see the man walking towards him, a grave expression in his eyes. He stared questioningly, so the man stopped a small distance away from him and said in a low voice, "I saw Yami outside a few moments ago." Seto blinked, in acknowledgement, masking his guilt and worry as much as possible, while the teacher added, "What exactly is wrong with that kid?"

"I told you. He's really stressed out and he takes it out on himself." Seto lied; back then he did not really tell the man what was 'really' wrong, but settled onto telling him a part of the truth. But he felt his heart sinking that perhaps, the teacher did not swallow that lie?

"I am not a fool, kid." His fears were confirmed. Mr. Anderson crossed his arms in front of his chest and resumed, "This is way more than just self-harm. This looks more like a…like a…" he paused and shook his head in suspicion and carried on, "Like a case of child abuse. That's how it looks like."

Seto swallowed and he stuttered, "Err…maybe…erm…"

"Just tell me. There must be something I can do." The man interrupted his awkward stammering.

Seto sighed and his hand rose to brush his hair back and away from his face and he said, "Look…I really, really wish I could give you the answers, but…I did not figure this out by myself and I wasn't supposed to tell you anything at all. I was just…trying to help Yami."

"So you're not denying what I just said?"

Damn, he's smart, Seto thought and bit his lip and looked down at his feet, refusing to answer. They needed help. Téa must have made some promise to Yami not to try to do that, but Seto was not obliged to sit back, knowing that everyday, Yami went through hell and just…not do anything about it. Sorry, but he couldn't do that. If Mr. Anderson could help, so why can't he tell him what was going on?

Mr. Anderson uncrossed his arms and his eyebrows rose in realization at Seto's silence and hesitance. "I see," he muttered, shock clear in his eyes.

Seto sighed again and said, "Look, I need to go now. I wish I can tell you more now, but…it is not possible."

"That is alright. The picture is quite clear and sensible now." He sourly answered, his lips curling into a displeased expression.

Seto turned around and left the gym, just as the bell rang. Seto cursed under his breath and turned to the direction opposite to the one he was going on, when he realized he had duties near the bus area of the school.

Within an hour, the school was empty. He knew that there was no way Yami would be still around, so he walked towards the parking area, meaning to get inside his car and drive to the Mansion to change and go to work. When he reached the car, though, he found Téa leaning on it with her cell phone stuck to her ear and a worried expression in her blue eyes.

Shit, Seto thought. He really, really didn't think Téa would approve of what just happened between him and Yami back in the locker room. He tried to keep a placid face on and he walked to the car and stood beside her till she lowered the phone.

He stared questioningly at her so she huffed and said, "Yami left and I don't know if he's okay or not. He wanted to speak to me, I saw him standing in the corner but Michael was there and he doesn't like speaking to me in front of others. I am trying to call him for the past thirty minutes but he won't answer."

Don't tell her, don't tell her, don't tell her. Seto repeated over and over again in his head.

"He told me today morning that his dad had friends over last night and that he got mad at him." Téa fervently said, once again trying to call Yami. She put the phone on her ear and she spoke quickly, anxiously, "I really think he shouldn't be at home in his condition. I am not sure what that is exactly either, but I know that it is not too go…"

"Yami gave me a blowjob in the locker room."

It was too much. Listening to all of that, all of Téa's worries and her concerns, which confirmed his own fears and apprehension, and made his guilt increase tenfold, it was just too much. He needed some sort of penalty for what he did…what he allowed to happen.

Téa froze, her mouth hung open and she stared at him in confusion and misunderstanding. Then, when his words seemed to sink in, her hand went lax around the phone and it fell down to the gravel with a slight thud. Seto swallowed when he saw the expression of utter rage in the blue eyes the same shade as his and he knew that he was in for it from Téa this time.

Yet, even if he had been anticipating a violent reaction, he never expected what came next.

Téa raised her hand and with force that made him reel in shock, she slapped him. Just like that.

And as his lower jaw dropped open in shock and pain and his hand rose to his tingling cheek, she started reacting verbally.

"You son of a bitch, I should have known." It came out as a low whisper that, to his amazement, sent a slight chill through his body. He stared at her, unable to say anything amidst the shock of what just happened, as well as the guilt he was already feeling, as she added, "I should have known you'd go blackmail him with what I told you. Are you that heartless, Seto? After all I told you…after what you know he is going through, you…you forced him to do…that?!"

At that, Seto spoke. "I did not force Yami to do anything."

"Yeah, sure. You just gave him no choice, huh? You must have said, 'oh Yami it is your choice; either blow me or have your secret exposed'. Typical Seto Kaiba. You think you can have everyone as your p…" He frowned in hurt and raised his hand to place it on her mouth. She scowled heavily and tore her head away from his hand and concluded, "You are the most disgusting and despicable animal I have ever had the displeasure of laying eyes on."

Seto swallowed again and he said, "I…I know that." Yes, he was agreeing to her opinion of him. "But I…I did not force Yami to do that." She raised an eyebrow, so he tried to explain, "I was trying to speak to him about what I heard over the phone yesterday and he took me inside the room and…he started acting all…and then I don't know what happened, but…" he trailed off, not finding the correct words without blushing even more than he was right now and without his throat closing up. Her eyes, although still cold as ice, softened very, very slightly and her disgust and wrath was intermingled with doubt and uncertainty. He took the chance to say in a low voice, "I would never do that to Yami. It is completely my fault that I allowed it to happen, but I wouldn't force myself on someone else."

She kept staring at him for a bit, until he shifted in discomfort, before she stepped back and her face smoothed out a little and she said, "This is bad…do you know that? He really didn't need that, on top of what must have happened yesterday."

Was she trying to make him die on the spot with guilt? "Is there no way that we can get to him now?" he asked, trying to swallow down the huge knot of shame blocking his throat in that awfully suffocating way.

She bit her lip and shook her head and his heart sank. He prayed Yami was okay.

Téa was being driven half-mad with worry.

It was the very next day after she had slapped Seto Kaiba and lived to remember the moment. Yami was not in school and whenever she thought of the why to that, she would feel a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Seto looked as sick with worry as she was, and she did not know if it was genuine or not. To be honest, she couldn't tell if she should believe what he told her yesterday about him not forcing himself on Yami or not. From where she looked at things, any of the boys in Domino High, if they got to know what Seto did, they would immediately resort to blackmailing Yami. She had thought that…Seto was different. She thought that he was really concerned, that he cares about Yami and that is why he was so insistent. She did not know if she was wrong in her assumption or not.

The idea that she may have been wrong made her sick.

Lunch hour arrived and Yami was not in school yet. She exchanged looks with Seto, who was standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest and his back leaned against the wall of the place beside the door of the cafeteria, and she easily read anxiety in the blue orbs. Her lips curled in discontent and she diverted her eyes from him to her friend, Jenna, who was talking about the latest movie that came out last week.

She zoned out sometime in the middle, but then she started when she heard a weak voice from behind her that was barely heard above the sound of Jenna's insufferable chatter, but, to her, was louder and more effectual than a thousand war drums beating right beside her ear.

"Téa, can I have a word with you?"

She whipped around immediately, and she saw Yami standing a few feet away. He was as pale as a sheet and his entire face except his eyes was completely expressionless. His eyes…oh lord; something was horribly, horribly wrong. She gasped softly and, with an iron will, prevented herself from running over to wrap her arms around him.

Jenna, to her irritation, narrowed her gray eyes and, while flicking a stray bang of her silky black hair away from her eyes, she said with disgust, "Oh my…go away freak. Téa doesn't associate with your t…"

Téa, seeing the completely wounded and upset expression in Yami's dazed crimson eyes, turned her eyes to Jenna and viciously spat, "Shut the hell up, it's none of your business who I associate with. Who appointed you as my fucking lawyer, anyway?"

And she got up from the table, and took Yami's hand and started walking away, towards the side exit of the cafeteria that led out of the building. She did not look back and she did not stop until they were both in that shaded, secluded part beside the building, behind some huge boxes that contained some supplies and furniture. She pulled Yami to make him stand beside the wall and she placed her hand on his shoulder and opened her mouth to speak, but the loud gasp of pain he let out at her touch made her retract her hand back towards herself as though she was stung by a serpent.

"Oh my God…Yami…" she whispered, seeing the shivers shaking his small body with their intensity and the slight sheen of sweat shining on his brow. "What…What happened? What's going on?"

"Did you tell them?" Yami asked, his eyes closed and an expression of complete anguish dominating his features.

She frowned in confusion, "Tell who? What?"

"Did you tell Kaiba…and Mr. Anderson?" he repeated, his voice hoarse, his breath wheezy.

Téa blinked and she bit her lip. "Yami, I…"

"Just tell me," he interrupted her, opening his eyes. She blinked and felt herself starting to cry when she saw the tears running down his ashen face. "I am not mad at you. I… will not be mad at you…just tell me if you did. I want to know…"

She bit her lip so hard; she could feel the skin break and could taste blood. "I…told Seto." He looked down, with his body leaning heavily on the wall. She blinked to clear her vision of the tears and saw the tremors running through his entire body, and she added, "Yami, I am really sorry but I…I really wanted to help you and Seto saw us speaking together the other day and he started asking questions…I…I tried to send him away, but…he kept insisting, I am so…"

"'S okay, Téa…" he interrupted her, and she could hear it in his voice. He tried to sound normal, but he sounded so hurt, so betrayed, so miserable, she felt like scratching her skin off because of how vile she felt.

He pushed off from the wall and he tried to leave, but she placed her hand on his shoulder again, completely forgetting about his previous reaction. She blanched when he cried out again and his hand flew to the area beneath his collarbone and his knees gave way in whatever pain he feeling currently.

Her arms shot out so she would support him and break his fall and she sank down to the ground with him. "Yami, what is going on? What did he do this time?"

Yami looked up at her, his eyes having a tortured, agonized expression in them and he gasped out, "N…Nothing, Téa."

"How can it be nothing? You can…You can barely breathe," she shrieked in terror, holding onto him a bit tighter, but again, she let go immediately when he let out a choked sound at that. She didn't receive any answer except for him closing his eyes, and gasping for breath. She bit her lip so hard and she trailed her eyes over him, before realization hit her, "Did you run out of your drugs?" He shook his head, so she asked in desperation, "Then what is wrong! Yami, you have to tell me, this is not funny."

He forced his eyes open and he whimpered out, "He locked the door to my room. I have my drugs and my money there…"

"How long was it since you had your last dose?" she demanded urgently, praying vainly that it wasn't too long.

Yami clutched at her and shut his eyes tightly and he whimpered, "Day…Day before yesterday's e…evening."

Her mouth dropped open in shock, sympathy and pain. She wrapped her arms tighter around him and she whispered from where she had her face buried in his silky, multicolored hair, "Why did you come to school, Yami, why?"

He sobbed and answered her, "I…I don't want to stay at home with him anymore…he…he keeps…" and he trailed off, shuddering noticeably in her hold.

She raised her head and stared around her, trying to figure out how to help Yami.

Her answer came in the form of Seto's concerned voice, crying out from somewhere nearby, "Téa, are you there?"

Seto saw Téa take Yami's hand and walk outside. And right there, he searched the cafeteria for the school's President and when he found him – something that took a while longer than he would have liked since the chap seemed to be busy doing more…personal things – he told him to fill up for him because he had an important matter to deal with.

He stepped out through the door Téa and Yami went out through and his eyes searched the grounds, but he didn't find them. He went right, hoping that his assumption as to where both had gone was correct. He walked swiftly towards the side of the building and on his way, he sent a glare at the two boys who were fighting nearby, effectively making them break away and flee away from him.

Finally, he stood near the fence that was beside the building and he carefully called out, "Téa, are you there?"

At first, he did not receive an answer so he frowned and was about to leave, before he heard her answer, "Seto, I'm here. Could you come over please?"

He followed the source of the voice, somewhere behind some huge boxes where sometimes the school's drug dealers carried out their business and his eyes scanned the situation at hand. When he took in the sight before him, he stopped in his tracks and his eyes widened in shock and worry.

Téa and Yami were on the ground, and Téa had her arms wrapped around Yami, who had his head leaned on Téa's shoulder in very clear weakness and pain. Téa's eyes were staring up at him and Seto could see the tearstained skin of her face and only then he realized that Yami's body was shaking so much. He didn't if it was because he was crying…or…he just didn't know.

"What is going on? Is he okay?" he asked, immediately going down on his knees beside them.

"No, no he's not okay," she choked out, running her hand through Yami's hair, and Seto was not so sure if she wanted to comfort him by doing that, or wanted to comfort herself. "He didn't get his shot for over a day now."

Seto knew what that meant. It meant that Yami was currently going through hell right now.

"And I don't know what else is wrong with him. Everything, every touch, seems to be hurting him and I don't know what to do…" she trailed off when a sob choked her.

Seto was going to say something, but then Yami beat him to it and he pushed away at Téa and whimpered, "Stop it…don't…tell…" and then he doubled over with pain, and he panted heavily, as Téa held him tighter.

Seto frowned and his mind immediately gave him the correct solution to what was going on right now. In a second, he had drawn nearer to both of them and, with a look into Téa's eyes in which he asked for her trust, he placed one of his arms beneath Yami's knees and the other one he wrapped it around his shoulder.

With ultimate ease, he rose up with his surprisingly light load and he stared down at Yami's startled, hazy crimson eyes and he said, "Instead of the sex you offered to give me whenever I wanted…I want you to trust me."

Yami blinked and stared at him for a moment longer, in which Seto determinedly stared back at him, before he blinked once more and, while his hand rose to clutch as tightly as he could at Seto's school jacket, he gave a slight, weak nod and he closed his eyes and went limp in Seto's arms.

A/N: thanks for reading… 3 especially those dropping a word or two that they did.

Hathor…