CHAPTER 23: THE STUPID FIGHT CLICHÉ

THE STUPID FIGHT CLICHÉ: Can Buzz Lightyear from "Toy Story," really fly, or is he just falling with style? Every couple, from MJ and Peter Parker in "Spiderman: No Way Home," to Count Chocula and Frankenberry, eventually get into one of those arguments where they end up repeating: "Yes, you did… No, I didn't… Yes, you did…" over and over, to infinity and beyond. Occasionally, if the characters are very, very lucky, it eventually sinks in just how ridiculous they sound.

MORAL: Have you ever had one of those fights where what you're fighting about isn't really the problem, but you both keep on going, until it reaches the point where you've lost the thread of the argument, which is just as well, since it never made sense, anyway?

Yeah, me neither. No idea what this moral is talking about. Never happened. 10/10 can't relate.

Atem knew he should be excited. He should feel honored. When he'd left Kaiba's car that morning and walked up the museum steps, he'd been eager. But something about seeing the remnants of his past – the cup he'd drunk from, the toys he'd played with, the weapons he'd wielded as he'd reached adulthood – neatly packed, itemized and divided into categories, grated more and more as the day went on, an unyielding rasp that itched and eventually tore at him.

He wandered aimlessly from room to room, the only person without a task, without a mission to complete, an island in a sea of oblivious activity, a holdover from a long-gone era. He pulled out his notebook, flipped past the sketches of flower vendors and the elderly shopkeeper (who reminded him of Sugoroku) sweeping the sidewalk in front of his store. Atem fished a pencil out of his bag and stared at a senet board resting in its opened crate, then drew Simeon teaching him the game. He looked at the sketch, sighed and put his notebook away. His memories seemed to have so little to do with the time pitted game board about to be on display.

He stayed until the museum closed, promising to come back when work resumed on Monday. As disorienting as it was to be there, the thought of staying away was worse. He headed home, Kaiba's offer to pick him up, forgotten. It was only after he'd walked a few blocks that he remembered how far away the mansion was. He trudged over to a bike share kiosk, swiped his credit card, took one of the anonymous interchangeable bikes and began pedaling.

Riding usually cleared his head, but he found his anger growing with each downward push of the pedal. He didn't want to make this journey alone. And Kaiba, who'd promised to be with him, who kept trying to jump start their future, was nowhere in sight.

He left the bike on the mansion stairs and swept into the house. Kaiba hadn't stayed at the museum; he hadn't magically appeared at closing time to pick Atem up; he'd left him to face the long ride back to the mansion alone. Atem didn't want to have to call Kaiba, he wanted Kaiba to arrive on cue, just as he had at the Ceremonial Duel.

Atem barreled into the game room. Kaiba was working at a desk in the corner. Kaiba looked up. "You didn't call."

Atem raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that ruined your day."

"Of course not," Kaiba scoffed.

Atem frowned, hearing an unspoken, "It's not like you matter," in Kaiba's reply.

"I had a great day. I let Mokuba skip school. We went to KaibaLand," Kaiba said smugly.

"Glad you didn't waste your time on me."

"Me, too. I'd rather spend the day building the future than wallowing in the past." Kaiba got up, poured himself a whiskey, took a gulp, grimaced, and then swallowed it down.

"You don't even like whiskey! You're never going to like it! Forget that fucking future already!" Atem yelled almost joyously, exhilarated by the nearness of a fight. This is what he'd been riding towards: the chance to howl in pain and relief at having a voice to scream with and a target to yell at.

"Don't tell me what to do! You didn't keep your promise to call," Kaiba growled, all too eager to meet Atem, regardless of the battlefield.

Atem snorted. "We both know you were tracking my movements the whole time. You could have come to meet me. You didn't bother. And I wasn't wallowing. You'd have known that if you'd have been there!"

"Sorry I didn't live up to your expectations," Kaiba snapped. "Your voice box has never been broken before. If you wanted me to stay, you should have told me."

Atem snorted again. "You said you'd 'waste time' with me! Did you expect me to ask you to stay after that? I shouldn't have to spell it out for you! Yugi would have known what Anzu wanted!"

"Then go fuck Anzu instead. Or Yugi! You're delusional if you think I care what either one of them thinks!"

"You didn't need an invitation to the Ceremonial Duel. Why do you need one now?"

Kaiba poured out another drink, held Atem's eyes and tossed it down; his cough spoiled the effect. He slammed the glass back on the counter.

"Stop it!" Atem yelled, gesturing to the empty glass.

"Make me!"

Atem laughed scornfully. "You're so afraid of the future."

"You're the one who needed me to hold your hand while you confronted some big scary boxes," Kaiba taunted.

"Yes! I was. I am! I'm not ashamed to admit it!"

Kaiba crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if facing Atem down across a dueling field. "Aren't you?"

Atem stared at his rival and lover. Kaiba's eyes were haunted, as blank as when he'd seen his longed-for future disappear in their last duel; his usual battle-joy drowned in desperation. Atem winced. He didn't even know what they were yelling about anymore. "This is the stupidest fight we've ever had."

"We've had way stupider ones!" Kaiba shot back.

Atem rolled his eyes, his anger tamping down. He made a dying effort to blow on the embers as if they could keep him warm. "You don't understand."

Kaiba picked up the decanter then put it back, untouched. "You're afraid you've lost the inner compass that's always pointed north, and now you're spinning wildly, grasping for something to hang on to. You're scared and you're never scared and that scares you even more."

Atem's mouth dropped open. "Yes. How…."

"Do I know? Because you're my fucking rival and I fucking care. Do you think I don't?"

"Seto…"

"What do you think is so hard to understand? Being caught between the person you were and the one you're becoming? Some guy you don't even know and aren't sure you want to? You're scrambling for a future like a kid reaching for the brass ring on a merry-go-round, afraid you'll jump and miss and be left with nothing, not even your pride."

"Thank you," Atem said.

"For what?"

"For reminding me that I'm not alone, that I'm not marooned; I'm not an incomprehensible standing stone left as a warning for future time travelers. I'm a man. And however unique the circumstances that brought me here, I'm on the same journey – from swaddling blankets to sheathing linens – as everyone else."

Kaiba grunted. "You're welcome."

Atem shook his head. "What just happened? How did we get into a fight so easily, so suddenly, when I love you?"

Kaiba drew in a breath then exhaled slowly. He echoed his words to Atem after their first fight. "Because attack looks like defense…"

"Until you see the blood on the ground," Atem finished. "I was so angry. I didn't even ask about your day."

Kaiba smiled. "It was great," he said softly. "We talked. I asked questions. I listened." He shrugged. "We didn't do such a good job of it tonight, did we?"

"We'll get there eventually," Atem said, coming up to hug him. They leaned into each other.

Kaiba rested his head on top of Atem's. "I don't give a shit about who you were 3,000 years ago, but that doesn't mean I don't care right here and now. And if that's not enough…"

"Do you really think you're not enough for me? That I want you to be Yugi?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

"Who are you worried about failing? Me? Mokuba? Or the voices in your own head?"

Kaiba stepped back and shrugged.

"I don't want you to be Yugi. But sometimes I feel like I have Yugi's voice in my head, like we're still connected. And then I hear yours and all those other Atems' on all those other worlds and even Horakhty's." He took a step towards Kaiba, reached out and embraced him again. "How do you silence them?"

Kaiba's laughter sputtered and went out. "The best I've managed is holding them at bay. When it's quiet, when I'm too tired to think, I hear my father's footsteps in the hallway as he walked to his bedroom, stumbling past our door without stopping to turn the doorknob. He never looked in, never saw me waiting up in case he wanted to say good night. I'll be up late at night, struggling with a project, and Gozaburo's voice will shatter the silence of my office, sneering that I'm a stray dog from the gutter he'd picked up and could toss out again as easily. I close my eyes and see you walking away from me after that first penalty game, leaving me to my death… and then at the Ceremonial Duel, walking to yours instead, but always walking away." Kaiba shook his head. The ghost of a smile stole its way onto his lips. He smoothed down Atem's wild stalks of hair and watched them spring up again. "And then I open my eyes and see you and Mokuba, I finish my project, and the voices recede."

"Sometimes I'm trying so hard to ignore them, I can't hear anything else, not even how I'm hurting you," Atem whispered. "I hear you and Yugi and even Horakhty, and wonder why I've never learned to listen for my own voice. I didn't know what I wanted today," Atem admitted, speaking into Kaiba's chest. "These past two weeks… I've been on my own, just me and no one else. I like it," he said defiantly.

"Okay."

"That's the problem," Atem said, stepping back to look Kaiba in the eyes. "I didn't know it was okay. Everything in me was telling me it was the opposite of 'okay,' and I didn't know how to trust myself. I didn't want you there today. I wanted something that was just mine and no one else's. And then I needed you and blamed you for not reading my mind, when I didn't know it myself. I just need… time I guess."

"It took me months after Death-T to piece my heart together."

"And I'm trying to do a speed run?"

"Overachiever," Kaiba teased.

Atem straightened up. "I only need a couple of days, but I need them alone, with my ghosts and my past and my own whispering voice. You're right. You can't be my compass. Neither can Yugi. I need to learn to navigate on my own. Please understand. You're enough. I'm the one who's not enough for me. I love you, but I need to get to know myself."

Kaiba drew in a breath, then nodded.

Atem blinked back tears and smiled. "There may be worlds out there where I don't come back, where you lock the door, where we never figure things out. But not here. You may not be my compass, but you're my North Star. I'll always follow you home."

Kaiba nodded again. "I trust you. I'll remember that even when I don't. I promise."

Atem embraced him a final time. He closed the door gently as he left.

Atem stopped short when he reached the street, suddenly realizing he had no idea where to go. Part of him wished he was back in limbo, where it was quiet, where it had been easier to listen, to be sure that his voice was the only one he was hearing. He shook his head in frustration. He could go to Yugi's, it was what he'd done before, but he didn't know how to tell Yugi any of what he'd just told Kaiba, not without hurting him, not without Yugi trying to offer sympathy and advice, not without feeling like a burial sheet was being wrapped around his head while he was still alive and struggling to breathe. Jounouchi would rant about what an asshole Kaiba was and how this was all his fault before he'd heard what was going on. Anzu… he couldn't go to Anzu in the middle of the night.

Kaiba would have checked into a hotel. Atem shuddered. He wanted solitude, not an anonymous room surrounded by strangers. He suddenly remembered Bakura saying, "I have a spare room and no roommates." It sounded like a slice of heaven. He picked up his borrowed bike and started pedaling.

He ended up almost back at the museum; it had become as inescapable as the brightly lit KC logo that dominated the landscape from the top of Kaiba's tower. He returned his bicycle to the same kiosk he'd borrowed it from and walked the two blocks to Bakura's apartment building.

Bakura opened the door. Atem paused in the hallway. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He'd run out of words.

"I have a spare room and no roommates," Bakura said softly.

Atem cleared his throat and coughed, freeing his voice. "Yes. Thank you."

He followed Bakura into the living room and sank into a cushioned chair, resting his eyes on the beiges and soft greens of the room. There were plants hanging in the window and on a nearby table, placed to make the most of the sun. None were as aggressive or as large as Kaiba's philodendron. He sank further into the plush chair, reminded of reeds and sand.

"I was going to make myself some tea," Bakura said. "Would you like some?"

Atem was suddenly thirsty for beer flavored with honey and dates, thick as a milkshake. "Tea would be fine."

Bakura disappeared into the kitchen. Atem closed his eyes and redesigned the room in his head. Instead of solid colors, he'd paint the walls with impressionistic splashes of blues and greens and pale creams, soothing as a desert breeze, bracing as a splash of river water in spring. He sat up with a start as Bakura returned.

Bakura set the tray on the coffee table. He poured Atem a cup of tea.

"Thank you," Atem said again as he cradled it in his hands. "We didn't have a fight," he insisted, although Bakura hadn't asked. "Everything just felt like it was crashing in; I was afraid of being buried in the rubble. I needed space." His lips twisted in a rueful smile. "Kaiba's mansion is so big I could have just moved into another wing and no one would have even known I was there, but…"

"But it would still be Kaiba's mansion," Bakura finished.

"Yes." Atem took a breath. "I could have gone to Yugi's but his place sometimes feels as crowded and cluttered as my mind." He felt disloyal saying that, but not as disloyal as if he'd said it to Kaiba who would have taken it as a point in some scorecard existing solely in his head.

Bakura nodded and sipped his tea.

"Thank you," Atem said for a third time.

They sat in silence. Bakura put his teacup back on the tray. "Isis invited me to the museum on Monday to see them set up the exhibit before it opens."

"I'm going back as well," Atem said.

"I'm not sure why she invited me. My father's the expert and I haven't seen him in years, not since he gave me the Ring."

"He gave it to you?"

Bakura shrugged, lifted the empty teacup, and carefully set it back down. "I don't remember. We went to Egypt together. I was on vacation. He let me visit him. It was after my mother and Amane… after they died. He was excited. He had someone who was going to sell him the Ring. The next thing I remember is the Ring was around my neck and my father was gone. He writes occasionally, but it feels like the letters I write Amane. I thought he might come home now that it's all over, but…" Bakura shrugged again. "Yugi once said that the Items granted a wish. Do you think that's true?"

"I don't know." Atem frowned. "Maybe. At first, I felt like I was the answer to Yugi's wish for a protector, for a way to defend himself, for strength."

"I wished I was never alone again."

Atem nodded. Pegasus had surrendered an eye for a glimpse of his wife; Malik had splintered his soul on the Rod. What had Bakura given up?

"I'm glad he's gone," Bakura continued. "I can't forgive him, and I don't even know the full list of his crimes. But I can't forget him crying, somewhere deep in his soul. I wish I could."

Atem nodded again. "I freed them… the souls imprisoned in the Millennium Items."

Bakura smiled. "I'm glad. Maybe I'll have to take comfort in that for him." He picked up the tray and carried it to the kitchen. Atem sank back into his chair.

"Let me show you to your room," Bakura said when he returned. "My father paid for a two-bedroom apartment. I thought it was because he was planning on visiting. It's near the museum."

Atem followed him to his guest bedroom. "Thank you for sharing it with me."

Bakura smiled briefly and nodded. He turned to go back to the rest of the house as Atem entered the bedroom, leaving Atem alone. It was bigger than Yugi's bedroom, if dwarfed by Kaiba's. Atem closed the door and looked around. Like the living room, it was done in soothing earth tones. Atem couldn't help remembering a comforter fluffy as a midnight cloud, a room guarded by dragons. Bakura had plants by the window, their red striped leaves lending color to the room.

He walked over to the bed, sat down, started to remove his shirt, stopped, and laughed. Once again, he'd left Kaiba's mansion without a change of clothes. He went to the bathroom. Bakura had laid out a spare toothbrush. Atem returned to the bedroom. He left his shirt on to use as a nightshirt, stripped off the rest of his clothes and got into bed, making a note to himself to get a T-shirt from a vending machine tomorrow. He'd learned from experience not to wash anything but his underwear and socks. Luckily, he'd arrived in a pair of plain black pants with leather patches at the knees and inner thighs. They'd still be wearable tomorrow, unlike the poor, destroyed shendyt from the last time he'd launched himself out of Kaiba's house.

He lay in the double bed, larger than the borrowed cot at Yugi's house but much smaller than the vast bed he shared with Kaiba. It was the first time he'd ever gone to sleep alone. In Egypt there'd been servants, at Yugi's there'd been Yugi, and then he'd gone straight from Egypt to Kaiba's bedroom.

He missed Kaiba, missed the tangle of arms and legs in their bed at night, missed sliding, half conscious into the warm spot Kaiba left when he got up in the morning, missed the way the sheets and pillows carried his scent. But there was something seductive about this empty room, filled with his breathing and nothing else. He could lay diagonally across the bed, arms and legs out like a starfish, or wrap himself up in all the blankets like a caterpillar building its cocoon. This borrowed bed, at least for the night, was his and his alone. He didn't want a steady diet of lonely nights, but as a snack, it was irresistible. He pulled a pillow towards himself, and hugged it as he eased into sleep.

Kaiba sat in the game room, staring at the closed door. This was why letting the future come to you was such a bad idea. You could never be sure where it would go. Kaiba scowled at the decanter. He wanted a whisky, but stayed stubbornly in his chair. That dream was gone and he refused to chase after the dead any longer.

But Atem had said he loved him. He'd said he'd return. Kaiba had vowed to believe even when he couldn't.

Kaiba got up, climbed the stairs to his bedroom and went through the motions of getting ready for bed, wondering if he was a fool for giving up his hard-won knowledge of the world for the promise in Atem's tremulous, tear-stained smile.

He looked over at his dragons, but it was dark out; their brilliance was muted. He got into bed. He'd spent almost all his nights in this house alone, but this was different, this was absence. Somehow, he closed his eyes and slept.

Right on schedule, his nightmare returned, the familiar one of Atem walking away, leaving him to be devoured by his monsters. As programmed, the lights came on, slowly. Soft music filled the room, waking him up. The last time he'd had this nightmare, Atem had been with him, having one of his own. He thought of Atem saying, "You're my North Star. I'll always follow you home." He closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

He was still alone when he woke up the next morning. It took Kaiba a moment to remember they hadn't had a fight, not really, not like last time. Atem still loved him. He'd said so. Kaiba had vowed to trust, to remember. He pulled his phone off the nightstand, typed, "I promise," and hit send. He went downstairs to face Mokuba over the breakfast table, wondering if it was cowardly to hope his brother was still asleep.

But Mokuba was awake and waiting for his brother. Kaiba nodded to the maid who placed his coffee cup on the table as he sat down. She returned a moment later with eggs, fish and rice. It was the same breakfast his mother had made in that alternative world; the only thing missing was his dragon bowl. Mokuba was scarfing down pancakes.

"What happened?" Mokuba mumbled, his mouth still full of food.

Kaiba didn't bother wondering who had spilled the beans or whether Mokuba had checked the security footage when he'd gotten up and seen Atem leaving. "I'm not sure."

"Did you guys have a fight?"

Kaiba gulped down a mouthful of coffee. "I don't know. Not really."

Mokuba choked on his pancakes. "How can you not know?"

Kaiba pushed his food around before taking a bite. "It wasn't about anything. We were just screaming at each other. Seeing his stuff in a museum got Atem freaked out."

"That would be pretty weird," Mokuba agreed. "But, if you didn't have a fight, why did he go to Yugi's?"

"He didn't. His location tracker is still on. He's at Bakura's."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you text him?"

"Just once to let him know I promised to trust him."

Mokuba's eyebrows rose behind his bangs. His eyes widened. "Just once? What gives? You were a lunatic last time."

"I've never been good at just letting the future come to me."

"Understatement of the year," Mokuba said. "You really trust him, huh?"

Kaiba pushed his breakfast away. "No. I should. I know that. It's just…" Kaiba shrugged. "I could write this all off as a failed experiment and go back to business as usual. But that's not enough anymore. I've seen lives where I did just that, and I missed out every time."

"So…" Mokuba said, gesturing in the direction of the construction crew working on the grounds outside, "...you're still moving forward with everything as if you're sure he's coming back."

"I might lose, but I'm playing this hand 'til the end. No doubts or hesitation. It's the only way."

"It's definitely your way."

Kaiba nodded, satisfied. "Exactly. I just got a report from Isono. The beer project will be ready on schedule. Fermentation is finally complete. The world's most exclusive and exhaustively researched artisanal beer is being bottled." He smiled as if each bottle held the promise of Atem's faithfulness. "You're right, full steam ahead is the way to go. Everything will be ready when Atem returns."

Mokuba looked at his brother's face. He didn't have the heart to interject an "if," into his brother's sentence. He squared his shoulders and summoned up a determined smile. "Sounds like a plan."

Kaiba grinned. "I knew I could count on my vice president."

Mokuba's smile warmed as he flashed a thumbs up. Mokuba had never seen his brother cling to hope before. But distrust and isolation had let him down time after time. If his brother was trying to switch up his strategy, he needed to know his vice president was on his side.

Thanks to Bnomiko for betaing this chapter!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I first started drafting this story, I assumed this fight would be a replica of their previous one, ending with Atem storming out once again and their eventual reconciliation. But as I lived with the story, I realized that while I wanted them to start with a fight that was really brought about because of their own individual stresses and fears, I also thought they were capable of not repeating the past, with Atem realizing that his fight, at the moment, is within himself, and Kaiba vowing to hang on to trust, even when that seems impossible.

I realize it's been a longer than usual wait, but I'm hopefully back on track. I'd love to know what you think!

Stay safe everyone!

SOCIAL MEDIA NOTE: I am on Tumblr, Dreamwidth and Pillowfort as Nenya85. Come check me out there!

To paraphrase Louise Rosenblatt, "A story's just ink on the page until a reader comes along to give it life." This is my way of saying that I'd really like to hear what you think. Please comment.