Title for chapter comes from the song A Tattered Line of String by The Postal Service

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Seto did not fully realize where he was until his head hit the doorframe. They had driven back to Domino in a flurry of tense silence, sidelong glances, and clumsy contact—hands that pressed too hard but never lingered, that barely grazed the skin but made it fester and burn. No one had suggested that they come here, but they had anyway—the result of a succession of random steps, gentle nudges and stabs in the dark—that in hindsight appeared completely inevitable.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" Jounouchi stepped away slightly—not enough to let him go.

"I'm fine, just—" Seto stumbled down the darkened hallway, trying to ignore the way his feet sank into the carpet. "It smells horrible in here."

"Ah yeah, well the air conditioner's been busted for a while, so in the summer everything gets kind of…sticky."

"There's mold growing on your walls."

Jounouchi grimaced. "Okay, it may have gotten worse since I moved out." He sighed sharply. "But I mean, so what? Would you rather go to Yuugi's? Or your freaky haunted mansion? Or your apartment? Don't tell me you need to do it on silk sheets or something stupid like that…"

"No." Seto snapped, not quite looking at him.

Jounouchi stepped closer, smiling in the shadow. "So, don't complain." He let himself float against Seto's skin, held one of his hands against his lips. "You still have blisters."

"I know." Seto considered wrenching his hand away, but there was something about the lightless, fetid air of this place that made his limbs feel soft and distant and weak even as his head and heart and his breath were pounding, throbbing, hard.

"You didn't keep the bandages on."

"They got in the way."

"Psh." Jounouchi shook his head, turning Seto's hand over in his own. "That's how you get infections. You're gonna turn into a big puss ball if you're not careful."

"Thanks for the advice, doctor." Seto tried to pull his hand away, but felt like he was dragging it through syrup. "I know what I'm doing."

Jounouchi chuckled. "I don't think that you do." He wrapped a hand around Seto's wrist, gently pulling him closer. "You need to relax."

The floor was becoming liquid. Seto could feel his vision go slack, begin to swim in the warm, heavy darkness. "Stop laughing at me." He mumbled. He closed his eyes. Shook his head. Slowly. "This place isn't healthy."

Jounouchi continued laughing softly. He laughed like the low thunder of a rolling red ocean, like the anxious beating of his own breathless heart. "I grew up here, you know."

"And Gozaburo built it." Seto turned away again, forcing Jounouchi to kiss the corner of his jaw. He had to stand on his toes and hang off Seto's shoulders to reach him.

"Come here," he murmured, words beginning to melt along with his limbs. "It's not going to hurt you—just for a couple hours."

Seto glanced back at him. There was some kind of electric spark racing across his skin—something sharp and fierce that refused to settle. A tide was rising inside him—drowning him from the inside out. He bit the inside of his lip felt everything wash away.

"You don't need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

The twinkle in Jounouchi's eyes was the only light left in the room. "You look nervous." He chuckled, pressing himself against Seto's chest, pressing him into the wall—hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. "I promise I'm a very gentle lover."

Seto grimaced and shoved him away. "Don't talk like that."

"Ha—like what?" He laughed again, but it was slightly harsher now. "I'm trying to seduce you."

Seto pulled his features together and frowned. "Don't."

Jounouchi rolled his eyes. "So, what, you'd prefer I read the dictionary definitions or something?"

Seto stared pointedly into the darkness, arms crossed against his chest.

"Look, it's obvious that you're uncomfortable. I'm just trying to make you…slightly less uncomfortable."

"You're being stupid."

Jounouchi grinned. "Well, yeah that too. It wouldn't kill you to be stupid too, every once in a while."

Seto huffed and rolled his eyes. Jounouchi seemed to take up too much space in the room. He was the one thing that had gravity, the one surface with sharp edges against a shadowy and unfocused background. The darkness didn't stick to him, it didn't weigh him down.

Seto clenched his fists. He sank deeper into the carpet with each step closer.

Jounouchi felt like he was standing at the base of a landslide. A few square inches of contact and everything was Kaiba's cold, rigid hands tied up in his hair, the sharp weight of his shoulders, his breath a hot haze against his face, the way their teeth knocked when they moved too fast. And Seto kept reaching for him as if he were about to disappear, as if he could never reach him enough.

It was like being swept up in a storm and carried far away, leaving the ground and everything rough behind. Jounouchi floated in that feeling, hardly able to remember where on Earth he had left his body—given up completely, burned away as he rode a wave of light straight to the center of the sun. But even as his skin turned to mottled blisters and his breath turned to smoke and fire, one resolutely physical feeling tore up his insides: a hunger that was bigger than he was, that made his voice crack and his hands tremble as he clawed at Seto's skin till all that was left of it were long red marks.

Seto saw nothing but burning black until he felt Jounouchi grabbing at his belt. He flinched, and the thing that had been so wild and vivid between them suddenly froze over.

"You okay?" Jounouchi spoke in low, lush shades of crimson.

Seto nodded, closed his eyes, swallowed.

"You know, we don't have to—"

Jounouchi shuddered at the hand clapped over his mouth, shivered when Seto glared down at him the way he always did when they stood at opposite ends of the duel arena. When they could count the moments they had left to live in a neat little number on their wrists that always pulled them down to zero. When they hurt each other's monsters instead of hurting each other.

"Get off me," he growled, shoving Seto's arm away. "I don't like to be manhandled."

"Then stop talking."

Seto scowled but Jounouchi smirked. He rested one hand where Seto's damp shirt clung to his chest, savored the restless heat on his skin. "Or what?"

Seto rolled his eyes and looked everywhere else in the room before he spoke again. "Stop talking like an idiot."

Jounouchi tilted his head to the side. His grin grew wider. "Hey, this is just how I talk. It's not my fault you're just starting to notice now…"

Seto shook his head but couldn't speak. His thoughts were running together into a white-electric blast. They were rushing out of his chest, seeping through Jounouchi's palm. "This isn't—you don't usually—"

Jounouchi pressed his other hand against Seto's hip, curled his fingers one by one under the waistband of his pants. Every touch was another rupture in Seto's skin.

Jounouchi spoke slowly, letting his voice writhe between breaths the same way Seto did between his hands. "Don't usually what?" He bit back a chuckle. "I'm not embarrassing you, am I? Cause personally, I think you're probably not mature enough to be thinking about having sex if you can't even talk about it…" He pulled Seto closer until they could feel the pounding in each of other's pulse, till they stuck together at the hips and shoulders. "So…" he wrenched down on the lapel of Seto's jacket and whispered against his ear. "Do you want to fuck or not?"

Jounouchi gasped as Seto sprung away from him. "God," he muttered. "Why are you so fucking awkward?"

Seto refused to reply. He stared in the darkness, tapped his foot, forced himself back together. He coughed several times and mumbled something that Jounouchi couldn't understand.

"What?"

"I said I can't!" Seto snarled.

Jounouchi laughed dry and empty. "What are you talking about?" Seto scowled but didn't reply. "Okay, okay, I get it—this is some kind of trust issues thing right? You need to let me catch you or something?"

Seto kicked at a hole in the carpet. The oily air of the apartment was coating the inside of his throat, making his voice come out dark and dirty. "It's not an emotional issue," he seethed.

Jounouchi titled his head. "Well, what is it then?"

Seto was silent for several moments. He listened to the churning of the ocean, pealed his eyes against the darkness around them that stubbornly refused to yield. "Forget it," he muttered.

Seto recoiled as Jounouchi wafted toward him. His eyes looked brighter, sharper. He was smirking slightly. "Hey, don't worry about it," he laid a hand on Kaiba's shoulder. "It happens to the best of us." He laughed at Seto's stricken expression. "Man, it's too bad I didn't know you'd be coming over. I could have got candles, incense, mood music…" He chuckled as Seto shook off his arm. "No, no, okay, I'll be serious. It's not a big deal, really." He leaned into Seto's chest, let his head rest against his neck. "I could help you."

"Don't be ridiculous." Seto growled, pulling away.

"Aw, come on, it'll be fun…" He laughed softly. "And I'm not in a hurry. We have all night…"

"Fun." Seto huffed, shaking his head. "How can you think that this is funny?!"

Jounouchi shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I don't take this kind of stuff as personally as you do." He sighed when Seto's scowl refused to budge. "Okay well, whatever. Are you hungry or anything? I don't want to just stand around not doing anything."

"I don't even want to know what you try to pass off for food around here."

"Ha, very funny." Jounouchi turned and walked toward the kitchen. "I do okay for myself." He poked through the cabinets, trying not to smile too smugly as he felt Seto follow him. "It's really not a big deal, you know," he said over his shoulder. "It's just a piping problem. Nerves. I told you you need to relax more."

Seto snorted. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Yeah you better," Jounouchi muttered, reaching for a package of crackers and pretending that he didn't notice the expiration date. "How's this?"

Seto's face twitched. "Whatever."

They sat together in silence on the kitchen floor. After a few minutes, the ropes that had seemed to bind them so painfully close became loose; the air lost its frantic temper. Jounouchi's eyes began to ache with exhaustion and each time he blinked it became harder to open them again.

"So, what turns you on?"

Seto flinched away from him. "What?!"

"It's a fair question." Jounouchi shrugged. "I don't want to be let down again, so I'm going to be prepared. Come on, you owe me."

"What makes you think I would ever do this again."

Jounouchi smiled. "I've just got a feeling."

Seto grimaced. "I don't appreciate your feelings."

"Don't want to admit that I'm right, huh? Well, we'll see…"

"Hn."

Jounouchi paused, then couldn't keep from smirking. "It's dragons, huh?"

"What?!"

"I always told Yuugi, a guy spends so much time and energy trying to make these fantasy creatures come to life, he's gotta be into some weird shit. I mean, they're just so lifelike. Don't tell me you never tried to test it out—"

"You think I invented Solid Vision technology so I could fuck a holographic dragon."

"I haven't seen any evidence to the contrary."

Jounouchi could nearly taste the revulsion in Seto's face. "You come to the most irrational conclusions." He muttered, then shock his head with mounting disgust. "And what were you doing discussing my sex life with Yuugi fucking Muto?!"

"As if there's anything to discuss…"

"That's not the point!" Seto tried to ignore the way that Jounouchi grinned smugly at him.

"Just chill, it was a stupid conversation anyway."

"I can't imagine a situation where that would ever be an appropriate topic of conversation."

"Then you have a seriously limited imagination."

"You're disgusting."

"No—that's your entire problem!" Jounouchi turned to him. "You get so wound up about this kind of stuff. It doesn't have to be super serious or weird. It is supposed to be fun."

Seto twisted away from him and frowned. He bit down on the silence that surrounded him and swallowed it. He didn't speak until Jounouchi nudged his shoulder. "I suppose I don't have that kind of experience."

Jounouchi shrugged. "Neither do I—not for real anyway. It's in your attitude more than anything else."

"I don't have those types of attitudes."

"You're not into having sex?"

Seto spoke sourly. "I never had the opportunity to pursue the topic from that angle."

Jounouchi let out an uneven laugh. "What? You went through puberty right? You weren't interested then?"

"You remember what I was like at fourteen." He grit his teeth. "I spent my adolescence locked in a library. There weren't many opportunities."

"Okay, fine. So what's stopping you now?"

Seto stared at him and for a moment Jounouchi thought that it was out of anger. But the light in his eyes was soft and wide. "Nothing." His voice was hollow and thin, and when he spoke the word seemed to disappear before either of them had a chance to hear it. "That doesn't make it any easier."

"Oh." Jounouchi frowned. He leaned against Seto's shoulder, glanced up at his face. Seto suddenly looked very small. Jounouchi thought it was the way his clothes seemed to bleed into the darkness, the way he looked like he was disappearing. "What would?"

Jounouchi had expected Kaiba to shove him off again, but he only shrugged. "Not your badgering."

Jounouchi laughed. "Psh, everyone loves my badgering. You think Yuugi could have made it through Duelist Kingdom and Battle City without me there to cheer him on? Enthusiastic encouragement and sage advice— it's what I do."

"Don't take credit for his achievements."

"Hey, it's not like that. Everything on the duel arena—that's all Yuugi. But there's more to winning than knowing all the right moves. You know that."

Seto snorted and picked at a crack in the linoleum.

"You don't have to do everything alone, you know," Jounouchi continued, placing his hand over Seto's.

"I—" Seto tugged at his voice to keep it steady, but it was ruptured in a way that felt too big and monstrous to fix. "I know what I'm doing."

"Hm." Jounouchi hummed. "I think that's debatable."

Seto tensed his shoulders and sneered. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I don't know," Jounouchi murmured. "You remind me a lot of myself sometimes—when I was younger."

"We are nothing alike," Seto snapped—a bit too quickly. "And I'm not your charity case."

Jounouchi laughed. "You see, that's the exact same thing I said to the social workers who used to stop by here all the time." Jounouchi's face turned slightly bitter at the memory. "That idea that you have to figure everything out on your own or you're a total failure just—I don't know—it holds you back." He shrugged and leaned into Seto's chest, smiled at everything taunt, warm, and jarring that rushed through him when he listened to his heartbeat. "I can't imagine that you like being alone all the time."

"Then it's you who has a limited imagination."

They sat together until the sun began to tear holes in the darkness—left behind only in the shards of their shadows. But even as the world began to slide into daylight, somewhere in Jounouchi's mind it was still midnight. The desperate and bitter memories of cigarette-ash and bloody-knuckle nights and days that crunched together like cans in a trash compacter felt closer here than they did anywhere else. It was the thick, fetid air. The stains in the carpet and the cracks in the windows that he could never quite keep on the outside. There were stains and cracks in his dreams. He floated in and out of sleep, always dreaming that someone was lurking on the bottom of the ocean trying to snatch at his ankles. Kaiba was both his life vest and his heavy cinder block anchor.

By the time Jounouchi was fully awake, Kaiba was gone. In his place was a stack of manila folders containing photocopies of Jounouchi's new birth records. Jounouchi stared at the crisp black lines—the web that connected him to the rest of the earth—and it took him a moment to remember where the papers had come from.