Yami's Secret
—-
The room was unusually quiet, the only sound being the faint rustle of the cards on the table.
Yugi Muto sat across from Yami, his partner, his other half, but tonight there was a palpable
tension hanging in the air. For the past few days, Yami had been distant, almost as though he
was purposely avoiding Yugi's gaze. At first, Yugi thought it was just his imagination, but tonight
it was different—Yami was colder, more guarded, and it was eating away at Yugi's heart.
"Yami…" Yugi began, his voice soft but firm. "What's going on? You've been acting strange."
Yami, who had been absentmindedly shuffling through his cards, paused. His eyes flickered up
to meet Yugi's, but only for a brief moment. "Nothing's wrong," Yami replied, his tone flat, and he
quickly looked away. "Maybe you're just overthinking things."
Yugi frowned, pushing himself to his feet. He wasn't buying it. There was something more to
this, and he wasn't going to let it slide. He had to know what was really going on with Yami. It
was like a puzzle, one that only Yugi could solve.
He had been feeling it for days—the shift in their dynamic. Yami had always been protective,
always affectionate, but there was something different now. Yugi didn't know what it was, but he
could feel it in the air, in the way their conversations had become more strained, more... distant.
"Yami, please," Yugi said, his voice wavering slightly. "I know you're lying to me. What aren't you
telling me?"
Yami's body stiffened at Yugi's words. His lips pressed together in a tight line, as though he
were trying to control himself, to stop something from spilling out. But all Yugi could see was the
conflict in Yami's eyes—pain, frustration, and something else... something Yugi couldn't quite
place.
It was then that Yugi made a decision. He couldn't keep guessing. He needed to know the truth.
And if Yami wouldn't tell him, maybe—just maybe—he could find the answer another way.
Yugi reached out with his mind, silently tapping into the deep bond they shared. He closed his
eyes for a brief second, feeling the familiar warmth of Yami's presence in his thoughts. Normally,
they communicated like this when they were together in a duel, but tonight, it felt different. There
was a wall around Yami's heart, one that Yugi had never sensed before.
But Yugi was persistent. He pushed gently, trying to reach beyond that wall, to touch the
thoughts Yami was so carefully hiding.
And then, as if the dam had broken, the flood of thoughts came rushing forward.
Yami's feelings—his true feelings—spilled into Yugi's mind. They were raw, unfiltered, and filled
with an intensity Yugi hadn't expected. The thoughts were chaotic at first, as though Yami had
been trying to suppress them for a long time.
"I don't want to hurt him... But I can't stop myself. How do I tell him? How do I make him
understand? I can't lose him... I can't lose Yugi..."*
Yugi's heart clenched in his chest. He wasn't imagining it. Yami wasn't just avoiding him—Yami
was afraid. Afraid of his own feelings, afraid that something as simple as love could ruin the
bond they shared. Yugi felt a pang of sadness for Yami's uncertainty.
But there was no question in Yugi's mind. He knew now. He knew what Yami was too afraid to
admit.
Yami was in love with him.
Yugi opened his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. His heart raced. This was it. This was
the truth he had been searching for, and it wasn't what he had expected—but it felt... right. He
couldn't pretend he hadn't known deep down, but hearing Yami's thoughts, feeling the weight of
his unspoken emotions—it made everything clearer.
Yami, unaware of Yugi's quiet invasion into his mind, was still standing across from him, his
back slightly turned. He was still avoiding Yugi's gaze, but his face was drawn tight with that
familiar, anxious expression. He was still hiding, still battling the turmoil inside himself.
Yugi couldn't stand it anymore.
With a sudden, quiet resolve, Yugi moved toward Yami. The words he had been holding back,
the feelings he had never voiced, bubbled to the surface. He didn't care anymore. He couldn't
let Yami suffer in silence.
Before Yami could react, Yugi stepped in front of him, reached up, and kissed him—soft, but full
of everything he had been feeling. He could feel the tension in Yami's body, the surprise, but
Yugi didn't pull away. He deepened the kiss, just a little, enough to show Yami that this was real.
That Yugi had known all along, that Yugi shared his feelings, that Yugi wasn't going anywhere.
When they finally pulled apart, Yugi's breath was shallow, but his heart was steady. He placed
his hand gently on Yami's cheek, his eyes locking with his.
"Yami…" Yugi whispered, his voice soft but unwavering. "I know. I know everything."
Yami stared at him, eyes wide, completely dumbfounded. His voice was barely a whisper.
"You... you do?"
Yugi smiled gently, brushing his thumb along Yami's cheek. "I do. I've always known. I think... I
think I've felt it for a long time now."
Yami's breath caught in his throat, a look of disbelief crossing his face. "But... I didn't want to
hurt you. I didn't want to make things complicated. I—"
Yugi shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. "Yami, you could never hurt me. And nothing
is more complicated than us pretending we don't feel this way."
Yami's eyes softened, his defenses crumbling. He reached for Yugi, pulling him into a warm
embrace. "I was so scared, Yugi," he admitted, his voice hoarse. "So scared of losing you. I
never thought you could feel the same way."
Yugi held him tighter, pressing his cheek against Yami's. "You don't have to be scared anymore.
I've always been right here, Yami. Always."
And just like that, the wall between them crumbled. The air felt lighter, as if a weight had been
lifted from both of them. There were no more secrets between them, no more hiding. They were
finally free to be honest with each other.
"I love you, Yugi," Yami murmured, his voice warm against Yugi's ear.
Yugi smiled, a sense of peace settling over him. "I love you too, Yami. Always have."
And in that moment, they both knew that nothing could ever tear them apart again.