Drabble Post #1
Jan. 4th, 2012 11:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_goldenpathA collection of drabbles. Individual warnings apply.
He hates pet names. He hates candles. He hates living room scents. He hates easy-listening, soft, atmospheric music. In fact, Bakura hates everything that has to do with romance, but the thief has one weakness: he loves describing the physical features of his lovers in an almost melodramatic way, and he loves to whisper it in their ears when fucking them (“making love” is one of those soft-hearted expressions he hates as well). Judging from the response, they love it as well. But now, Bakura has a problem. One of his Egyptian lovers is at his homeland, visiting family (that always makes Bakura laugh, but the Ishtars have adapted remarkably well to the latest addition to the family, be it chaotic and hateful and pretty), and his other Egyptian lover is looking at him, waiting. His red eyes have always baffled Bakura, and he had never been able to come up with a good description. He knows how the other is wooed by his Other self, and he doesn’t mind that much (Bakura isn’t a jealous type, but he likes to keep certain.. people to himself) and that this tiny, sappy Other describes his eyes as ‘crimson pools with ruby depths’. He can’t top that. He wants to top it, because the more his lover likes how he calls him, the more time he will spend with him.
“Candy apples,” he suddenly blurts out.
“What makes you say that?” His lover sounds amused, golden bangs framing his face, long black strands spilling over the pillow.
“The color of your eyes,” Bakura said. “The same deep red, lovely dark color…” His voice trails off. It sounds completely ridiculous and too-over-the-top, even for him… and the only reason why he was thinking of candy apples, was because that blasted Other had brought a whole basket of them with him…
“That is sweet of you,” the Pharaoh answers, and turns a little, his perfect tan body revealed by the pale blanket slipping away. “You are the first one to compare my eyes to candy.”
Bakura sees his chances of being with the other slipping away, afraid he has lost his lover to his infuriating Other, always present, always there, ready to worship what he’s seeing right now, in front of his eyes, tantalizing and mouth-watering… but he doesn’t need to be afraid, as the Pharaoh beckons him with a gesture of his long, slender fingers, such talented fingers, and he leans into him, greedily, hungrily, with the thought of candy apples and sweet, sweet fucking on his mind.
This is all Mokuba’s doing, of course. Seto Kaiba would never allow kids to roam his perfectly maintained garden, the huge patch of grass belonging to the majestic Kaiba Estate. Seto Kaiba wouldn’t have hired an ice cream truck, a few clowns, giant trampolines, a magician and three chefs to prepare food for the adults present. He wouldn’t have hired those people in bunny suits either; but Mokuba had been extremely adamant in turning Easter into some kind of tradition, of opening up the Estate to kids, not only from friends, but from entire Domino. The Easter egg hunt was already famous, and well, anyone else would just melt seeing all those happy kids running around, those festive activities, and the adults enjoying a good time themselves.
Seto had to hand it to his younger brother (even though it was hard to think of him as ‘younger’, Mokuba was mid-twenties by now), by starting this tradition some years ago he had also initiated a great networking event. A lot of CEOs brought their kids over and a lot of business was done around the huge barbecue tables… actually, he should be around to mingle with them. It was also tradition that he’d show his face at least once, before the party was over.
He didn’t feel like it, not now. First of all, he was naked, his clothes rumpled and strewn all over the floor. Staring out the window, he tried to discover his so-called ‘friends’ in the crowd: there was that bonkotsu duelist, hooked up with Mai Valentine for crying out loud, gorging on the teriyaki chicken. Not far behind him was that sister of his, Seto didn’t know her name and didn’t care, with that Otogi guy from the Black Crown stores. That other guy, with that ridiculous hairdo, had some kind of starlet on his arm, she was dressed in a bunny suit that fit her two qualities: skimpy. And there was Yuugi himself of course, as always running behind one of his… how many children? Anzu wasn’t far behind, it looked like she had another bun in the oven.. again.
“Good god, she’s pregnant again,” he says out loud.
“Tell me about it,” a lazy voice from the bed. “It’s going to be his sixth.”
Seto snorts so loud that he almost chokes on it. “I never thought your Other was… well, this diligent.”
“He loves her. She’s a good mother.” A little bit of jealousy, and Seto knows why. Both have missed out on a real youth, and both know that Yuugi’s and Anzu’s children are getting the best of both worlds.
“So that’s why you’re often here, instead of the Game Shop.” Seto moves away from the window, back to the bed.
“You invited me over.” Yami opens a lazy eye, the long black lashes framing his hypnotic crimson red iris. “Now you are going to have to deal with me.”
“I dealt with you already.” Seto snorts again, but it misses its usual vehemence. And as usual, his cock hardens at the sight of Yami’s perfect, naked body. He wants to hold and fuck him again, sweaty and hard, to feel the hot, intense depth of his body, pounding into him until he comes, crying out his name.
“Apparently we have something in common with my aibou,” Yami says, still lazy but his eyes following Seto’s movement, purring cat-like when the other starts roaming his body.
“And that is?”
“We fuck like bunnies. That’s the expression, right?”
“He’s outside,” his mother tells him as soon as he gets home. Yuugi puts his large book bag on the floor and nods silently. A soft sigh escapes his lips, but not a sigh of despair. It’s a sigh of love, if that’s possible, but also a tired sigh. It’s hard to stay energetic and positive when you’re so young and your only worries should be your girlfriend, beating a videogame, getting the latest cell phone model.
“Thank you, kaa-san,” Yuugi answers and leaves the kitchen, his shoulders slightly slumped. He straightens himself though, almost immediately, when he sees him sitting in the garden (as far as you can call a small piece of green grass a garden) and he melts. The wave of warm, pure and deep love overtakes his body and he feels refreshed, rejuvenated, when he walks towards him.
“There you are, mou hitori no boku,” he says, his voice affectionate. He suppresses the hurt he feels when the two dark red, crimson eyes look at him without much recognition.
“Welcome home, aibou,” he speaks with his usual voice, the voice of a Pharaoh in command, but it lacks the love and warmth he used to speak his words. He calls him ‘aibou’ because he knows he has done it before, one of the very little memories that lingered in his mind, but the deeper meaning behind it, the true meaning behind it… is just gone.
“How was your day?” Yuugi wants to brush one of those golden bangs out of his Other’s face, to touch that calm, composed face that masks anger, fear and anxiety. But he knows how the other reacts to spontaneous touches, so he refrains. He still doesn’t understand why the Gods had been so cruel; by granting his Other his body after the Ceremonial Duel, they took all of his memories -again- and half of his personality. He simply doesn’t recognize him…
“It was fine, aibou,” he says and lifts up his teacup to sip the hot drink. Yuugi reaches out, putting his fingers on his Other’s wrist and pushes him down, just slightly. He winces when he sees the stern, annoyed look on the former Pharaoh’s face - he has touched him without his permission.
“Be careful, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi says and points at the cup. A sakura blossom, drifting on the wind, has settled in the hot drink. It floats on top of the liquid, like a carefree yet gentle small boat. Yuugi wants to cry. Maybe one day, his Other’s memory will blossom again, and they will finally be the partners and lovers he wants them to be.
The wetness between his thighs isn’t semen only, he knows it. He can feel the pain, painful yet pleasant - it tingles and it tickles, it excites him and it abhors him. He know fucking with the two Others, the two other dark personalities, will never be smooth and sweet, like he fu…makes love to his own Other. Yuugi would be devastated to know that his beloved ‘mou hitori no boku’ screws around with the Dark Side, literally, as the Master of Shadows and the Master of Hatred push him into the mattress and fuck him raw -- until he bleeds. Still, he cannot stop. He cannot push them away, not even if he wanted to. He cannot… hold himself up to his own standards as a Pharaoh, as he’s the one who cries out loudest, to take him like a slut, to fuck him again, to fill him with hot delicious semen, as he enjoys the sensation of a hard cock, and nails scratching all over him. Poor, sweet Yuugi is praising him for not being so horny, that he respects Yuugi’s wish for quality over quantity, but in reality, he needs the time to heal up before he can allow his ‘aibou’ to see him again. Yuugi would ask questions when seeing all that blood. All that lovely, delicious blood.
The Kaiba Mansion is a well-guarded, well-protected building, almost like a fort: security guards, cameras, hardly visible trip-wires, booby traps, and as far as Bakura likes to think, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were any landmines sprinkled into the territory. He doesn’t need binoculars to see the burly bodyguards patrolling around, but his partner in crime doesn’t have the same, perfect eyesight. Funny that a Dark Other, used to hang out in the Shadow Realm, didn’t have any night vision. Bakura wants to laugh at him, as he laughs often at the former Pharaoh, but then he reminds himself how sexy and how willing his partner can be, and then he simply shuts up.
“I think this goes too far,” Dark Yuugi mumbles. “Kaiba probably has a bomb hidden somewhere for unexpected guests. We could just call him, you know. My aibou has his phone number.”
Bakura wants to push him off the tall wall every time the other talks about ‘his’ ‘aibou’. He grunts and rips the binoculars out of his hands with a frustrated gesture, and dumps the thing right in the middle of a carefully round shaped bush. “I don’t want to pay Kaiba a visit like a mere mortal,” he snorts. “I want to visit him in the middle of the night and steal his beloved Blue Eyes cards right from under his nose.”
“Well, it is the middle of the night already,” Dark Yuugi sighs. “You are never going to make it, Bakura. His security is flawless. We can go back to the Game Shop and have ourselves some hot chocolate.”
Hot chocolate, the thought alone! Bakura turns around, momentarily caught by the pretty sight of his Pharaoh in the pale moonlight, but then his pride as a thief overtakes the situation.
“You can go home and have your chocolate, you weak pussy,” he bitches. “I’m going to get those cards, and I’ll rub them in your face to prove that I’m the best thief in the world.”
“Suit yourself,” Dark Yuugi says, almost bored. He knows how obnoxious Bakura can be, yet he can’t keep his hands off of him. He watches as his lover… friend… whatever you call it… disappears into the dark night, the dark shapes of bushes, trees and hedges obscuring his sight. It is time to go home, it’s getting cold and he loves hot chocolate. He only wishes that Bakura hadn’t thrown his binoculars away. Not only because it belongs to his aibou’s jii-chan, but also because he spotted some black dogs in the eastern corner of the garden, and he wasn’t really sure if Bakura had seen them too.
He’s done everything he could, to the best of his abilities, always, with a loyalty that bordered obsession. He was always there, always helping, always showing his support. He suffered through kidnappings, he even had his soul stolen, and he had been in uncomfortable situations, but he’d lived through everything, just for him.
His brother.
He loved him. Yeah, loved. He doesn’t much love him nowadays, does he? His bottle of Jack Daniels is a better friend than his own brother ever was, and Mokuba Kaiba thinks nothing when he unscrews the cap and puts the bottle to his lips, taking a swig.
Oh no, he doesn’t have an alcohol problem, not by far. It’s just that when you live alone, and have no more servants to do your every bidding, you get… sloppy. Lazy. Like, too lazy to get up from your couch and walk all the way over to your kitchen to get a decent glass. He can’t stand alcohol that much either, and he’s about to go to bed anyway. A small sip of the burning stuff oddly helps him to fall asleep faster.
Because when he’s in his bed, alone, his thoughts return and inevitably turn towards Seto. The high and mighty CEO of KaibaCorp. who doesn’t send him a birthday card, who doesn’t return his calls or text messages but leaves his secretary to send him an e-mail that ‘Kaiba-sama is busy’. Too busy for his own brother, yes. Sure, Seto has made him ‘vice president’, but it’s just as hollow as everything else. Seto probably doesn’t even know that Mokuba makes his own money, has his own career, heck, he probably doesn’t even know that Mokuba moved out of the large Kaiba Mansion.
He’s given up hope that his brother will work less than 130 hours a week, that his brother will become less obsessed with Duel Monsters and virtual technology, and that his brother will finally remember his name.
Maybe another sip will help. Tonight’s going to be rough.
No one in the Ishtar family looks his or her age. Isis, who should be in the prime of her life, looks like a forty year old woman, carrying all the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Rishid, also in the prime of his life, should be out and about, hanging out with friends, enjoying everything to the fullest, getting married and be happy. He looks mid-thirty, his face covered with scars and markings, and his eyes tell the sad and thorough horrors he’s been through.
The youngest of the family, Malik, should be at school, also hanging out with friends, and his biggest care should be whether he passed that math test or not. But Malik Ishtar is scarred for life, literally, and he has no window to stare out of, he has no freedom around him, for the Tomb Keepers have pledged themselves to eternal guarding of the Pharaoh’s tomb.
It reeks of death and destruction, of suffocating and sorrow. There’s no light, only darkness, and sometimes a voice chuckles and then laughs, a horrible laugh that sends shivers down his spine. Living underground has marred his emotional features, leaving him filled with rage and resentment, with anger and contempt, and nothing his sister or brother will say, will change his mind.
In his deepest and darkest moments, he wants to kill himself, but he can’t. There are enough sharp knives around here, enough rope to tie a nice knot. Malik doesn’t know what keeps him from doing it. It’s all so bitter and cold around here. He can’t leave. He’s caged, like a pet bird. He has no wings to fly away, and this damp tomb is the most claustrophobic cage he can ever think of.
When will he ever get to leave here? When you kill them all, that dark voice whispers to him. Then you can fly away, just like a bird. A pretty bird, with golden wings, flying high in the sky.
Maybe he should listen, after all.
“I do not think I like this song.”
“It’s a really weird song, I agree, mou hitori no boku.”
“Where does Jounouchi-kun get all this music from?”
“Internet, mou hitori no boku…”
“Ah, illegally…”
Yuugi blushes as he chuckles. As always, Jounouchi has given him a few CD’s with music from all over the place. Every week it’s a surprise what’s on the CD’s: it can vary from hip hop to reggaeton, from early 80’s and 90’s to death metal. It’s a great way to boost his own music knowledge, apart from J-pop and J-rock, and the best part is: listening together to the mix of music on the CD’s, on the bed, cuddled up nice and cozy together.
“Why are they repeating ‘1984’ over and over again?”
“I think it comes from a movie soundtrack,” Yuugi ponders, “a book with the same title made into a movie…”
“Ah, George Orwell, now I understand.”
“You only like the classics, mou hitori no boku.”
“I am a Pharaoh from an ancient dynasty, aibou…”
“And now you’re my boyfriend and hot, sexy lover…”
“Which reminds me, why does the female singer say “sex crime” all the time?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a part of the song, I guess.”
“Sex is not a crime, is it?”
Yuugi tilts his head a little. “Well, not unless you go about your business with terribly young boys or girls, or against the wishes of your partner…”
“You are killing the mood, aibou…”
Yuugi moved his hand down to unabashedly grab his lover by the balls, literally. He grins. “Your mood doesn’t feel like it can be killed.”
“Would you turn off the music then, or put on Chopin instead? I am getting a headache…”
Yuugi kisses him. He loves classical music in the background when they’re making love. Jounouchi’s mix CD can wait. Grabbing the remote of the stereo, Yuugi presses ‘stop’, and changes the CD. As soon as the piano tones float through the room, he turns towards Yami, rolls on top of him and kisses him passionately, shivering as he feels his Other’s warm hands already roaming his back.
“Sex with you is never a crime…”
“I knew you were going to say that, aibou…”
“Jii-chan!”
With a smile on his face, Mutou Yuugi turned around. His grandchild, Yuuki, already hurried through the GameShop to attach himself to his leg. Yuugi patted Yuuki on the head, noticing that his hair was becoming more and more eccentric. He himself had turned grey, just like Mutou Sugoroku decades before him, and there was such an uncanny resemble between himself and his grandfather that it made him choke up a little whenever he saw himself in the mirror.
“You’re going to help me in the shop this afternoon, Yuuki-chan?”
“I love to, Jii-chan!”
Yuugi bend over and lifted the small child up, putting him on the counter top. Nothing had changed, not even the register; cash only, no plastic. Thrilled, the young kid pushed at the buttons and cried with joy at the sounds. It had been a long time since he had been so… open to the world, Yuugi mused. No fear, no anger, no bitterness. Everything was wonderful and amazing, and he had loved to meet new people. Things had changed. He had changed. The people around him had changed. Yuuki was the only one bringing some happiness in his life, that had turned dark ever since his Other left him. Anzu left him too, ever since the moment she realized she had been a mere replacement. The only people he still saw, were the customers in his shop and his grandchild…
“Jii-chan,” Yuuki said, noticing his grandfather’s sullenness. Yuugi immediately turned up his smile. He still knew how to do that, to give a wonderful, 1000-Watt smile and give the impression that everything is all right. It was taught to him as a child. A lesson he had never forgotten.
He hates pet names. He hates candles. He hates living room scents. He hates easy-listening, soft, atmospheric music. In fact, Bakura hates everything that has to do with romance, but the thief has one weakness: he loves describing the physical features of his lovers in an almost melodramatic way, and he loves to whisper it in their ears when fucking them (“making love” is one of those soft-hearted expressions he hates as well). Judging from the response, they love it as well. But now, Bakura has a problem. One of his Egyptian lovers is at his homeland, visiting family (that always makes Bakura laugh, but the Ishtars have adapted remarkably well to the latest addition to the family, be it chaotic and hateful and pretty), and his other Egyptian lover is looking at him, waiting. His red eyes have always baffled Bakura, and he had never been able to come up with a good description. He knows how the other is wooed by his Other self, and he doesn’t mind that much (Bakura isn’t a jealous type, but he likes to keep certain.. people to himself) and that this tiny, sappy Other describes his eyes as ‘crimson pools with ruby depths’. He can’t top that. He wants to top it, because the more his lover likes how he calls him, the more time he will spend with him.
“Candy apples,” he suddenly blurts out.
“What makes you say that?” His lover sounds amused, golden bangs framing his face, long black strands spilling over the pillow.
“The color of your eyes,” Bakura said. “The same deep red, lovely dark color…” His voice trails off. It sounds completely ridiculous and too-over-the-top, even for him… and the only reason why he was thinking of candy apples, was because that blasted Other had brought a whole basket of them with him…
“That is sweet of you,” the Pharaoh answers, and turns a little, his perfect tan body revealed by the pale blanket slipping away. “You are the first one to compare my eyes to candy.”
Bakura sees his chances of being with the other slipping away, afraid he has lost his lover to his infuriating Other, always present, always there, ready to worship what he’s seeing right now, in front of his eyes, tantalizing and mouth-watering… but he doesn’t need to be afraid, as the Pharaoh beckons him with a gesture of his long, slender fingers, such talented fingers, and he leans into him, greedily, hungrily, with the thought of candy apples and sweet, sweet fucking on his mind.
This is all Mokuba’s doing, of course. Seto Kaiba would never allow kids to roam his perfectly maintained garden, the huge patch of grass belonging to the majestic Kaiba Estate. Seto Kaiba wouldn’t have hired an ice cream truck, a few clowns, giant trampolines, a magician and three chefs to prepare food for the adults present. He wouldn’t have hired those people in bunny suits either; but Mokuba had been extremely adamant in turning Easter into some kind of tradition, of opening up the Estate to kids, not only from friends, but from entire Domino. The Easter egg hunt was already famous, and well, anyone else would just melt seeing all those happy kids running around, those festive activities, and the adults enjoying a good time themselves.
Seto had to hand it to his younger brother (even though it was hard to think of him as ‘younger’, Mokuba was mid-twenties by now), by starting this tradition some years ago he had also initiated a great networking event. A lot of CEOs brought their kids over and a lot of business was done around the huge barbecue tables… actually, he should be around to mingle with them. It was also tradition that he’d show his face at least once, before the party was over.
He didn’t feel like it, not now. First of all, he was naked, his clothes rumpled and strewn all over the floor. Staring out the window, he tried to discover his so-called ‘friends’ in the crowd: there was that bonkotsu duelist, hooked up with Mai Valentine for crying out loud, gorging on the teriyaki chicken. Not far behind him was that sister of his, Seto didn’t know her name and didn’t care, with that Otogi guy from the Black Crown stores. That other guy, with that ridiculous hairdo, had some kind of starlet on his arm, she was dressed in a bunny suit that fit her two qualities: skimpy. And there was Yuugi himself of course, as always running behind one of his… how many children? Anzu wasn’t far behind, it looked like she had another bun in the oven.. again.
“Good god, she’s pregnant again,” he says out loud.
“Tell me about it,” a lazy voice from the bed. “It’s going to be his sixth.”
Seto snorts so loud that he almost chokes on it. “I never thought your Other was… well, this diligent.”
“He loves her. She’s a good mother.” A little bit of jealousy, and Seto knows why. Both have missed out on a real youth, and both know that Yuugi’s and Anzu’s children are getting the best of both worlds.
“So that’s why you’re often here, instead of the Game Shop.” Seto moves away from the window, back to the bed.
“You invited me over.” Yami opens a lazy eye, the long black lashes framing his hypnotic crimson red iris. “Now you are going to have to deal with me.”
“I dealt with you already.” Seto snorts again, but it misses its usual vehemence. And as usual, his cock hardens at the sight of Yami’s perfect, naked body. He wants to hold and fuck him again, sweaty and hard, to feel the hot, intense depth of his body, pounding into him until he comes, crying out his name.
“Apparently we have something in common with my aibou,” Yami says, still lazy but his eyes following Seto’s movement, purring cat-like when the other starts roaming his body.
“And that is?”
“We fuck like bunnies. That’s the expression, right?”
“He’s outside,” his mother tells him as soon as he gets home. Yuugi puts his large book bag on the floor and nods silently. A soft sigh escapes his lips, but not a sigh of despair. It’s a sigh of love, if that’s possible, but also a tired sigh. It’s hard to stay energetic and positive when you’re so young and your only worries should be your girlfriend, beating a videogame, getting the latest cell phone model.
“Thank you, kaa-san,” Yuugi answers and leaves the kitchen, his shoulders slightly slumped. He straightens himself though, almost immediately, when he sees him sitting in the garden (as far as you can call a small piece of green grass a garden) and he melts. The wave of warm, pure and deep love overtakes his body and he feels refreshed, rejuvenated, when he walks towards him.
“There you are, mou hitori no boku,” he says, his voice affectionate. He suppresses the hurt he feels when the two dark red, crimson eyes look at him without much recognition.
“Welcome home, aibou,” he speaks with his usual voice, the voice of a Pharaoh in command, but it lacks the love and warmth he used to speak his words. He calls him ‘aibou’ because he knows he has done it before, one of the very little memories that lingered in his mind, but the deeper meaning behind it, the true meaning behind it… is just gone.
“How was your day?” Yuugi wants to brush one of those golden bangs out of his Other’s face, to touch that calm, composed face that masks anger, fear and anxiety. But he knows how the other reacts to spontaneous touches, so he refrains. He still doesn’t understand why the Gods had been so cruel; by granting his Other his body after the Ceremonial Duel, they took all of his memories -again- and half of his personality. He simply doesn’t recognize him…
“It was fine, aibou,” he says and lifts up his teacup to sip the hot drink. Yuugi reaches out, putting his fingers on his Other’s wrist and pushes him down, just slightly. He winces when he sees the stern, annoyed look on the former Pharaoh’s face - he has touched him without his permission.
“Be careful, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi says and points at the cup. A sakura blossom, drifting on the wind, has settled in the hot drink. It floats on top of the liquid, like a carefree yet gentle small boat. Yuugi wants to cry. Maybe one day, his Other’s memory will blossom again, and they will finally be the partners and lovers he wants them to be.
The wetness between his thighs isn’t semen only, he knows it. He can feel the pain, painful yet pleasant - it tingles and it tickles, it excites him and it abhors him. He know fucking with the two Others, the two other dark personalities, will never be smooth and sweet, like he fu…makes love to his own Other. Yuugi would be devastated to know that his beloved ‘mou hitori no boku’ screws around with the Dark Side, literally, as the Master of Shadows and the Master of Hatred push him into the mattress and fuck him raw -- until he bleeds. Still, he cannot stop. He cannot push them away, not even if he wanted to. He cannot… hold himself up to his own standards as a Pharaoh, as he’s the one who cries out loudest, to take him like a slut, to fuck him again, to fill him with hot delicious semen, as he enjoys the sensation of a hard cock, and nails scratching all over him. Poor, sweet Yuugi is praising him for not being so horny, that he respects Yuugi’s wish for quality over quantity, but in reality, he needs the time to heal up before he can allow his ‘aibou’ to see him again. Yuugi would ask questions when seeing all that blood. All that lovely, delicious blood.
The Kaiba Mansion is a well-guarded, well-protected building, almost like a fort: security guards, cameras, hardly visible trip-wires, booby traps, and as far as Bakura likes to think, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were any landmines sprinkled into the territory. He doesn’t need binoculars to see the burly bodyguards patrolling around, but his partner in crime doesn’t have the same, perfect eyesight. Funny that a Dark Other, used to hang out in the Shadow Realm, didn’t have any night vision. Bakura wants to laugh at him, as he laughs often at the former Pharaoh, but then he reminds himself how sexy and how willing his partner can be, and then he simply shuts up.
“I think this goes too far,” Dark Yuugi mumbles. “Kaiba probably has a bomb hidden somewhere for unexpected guests. We could just call him, you know. My aibou has his phone number.”
Bakura wants to push him off the tall wall every time the other talks about ‘his’ ‘aibou’. He grunts and rips the binoculars out of his hands with a frustrated gesture, and dumps the thing right in the middle of a carefully round shaped bush. “I don’t want to pay Kaiba a visit like a mere mortal,” he snorts. “I want to visit him in the middle of the night and steal his beloved Blue Eyes cards right from under his nose.”
“Well, it is the middle of the night already,” Dark Yuugi sighs. “You are never going to make it, Bakura. His security is flawless. We can go back to the Game Shop and have ourselves some hot chocolate.”
Hot chocolate, the thought alone! Bakura turns around, momentarily caught by the pretty sight of his Pharaoh in the pale moonlight, but then his pride as a thief overtakes the situation.
“You can go home and have your chocolate, you weak pussy,” he bitches. “I’m going to get those cards, and I’ll rub them in your face to prove that I’m the best thief in the world.”
“Suit yourself,” Dark Yuugi says, almost bored. He knows how obnoxious Bakura can be, yet he can’t keep his hands off of him. He watches as his lover… friend… whatever you call it… disappears into the dark night, the dark shapes of bushes, trees and hedges obscuring his sight. It is time to go home, it’s getting cold and he loves hot chocolate. He only wishes that Bakura hadn’t thrown his binoculars away. Not only because it belongs to his aibou’s jii-chan, but also because he spotted some black dogs in the eastern corner of the garden, and he wasn’t really sure if Bakura had seen them too.
He’s done everything he could, to the best of his abilities, always, with a loyalty that bordered obsession. He was always there, always helping, always showing his support. He suffered through kidnappings, he even had his soul stolen, and he had been in uncomfortable situations, but he’d lived through everything, just for him.
His brother.
He loved him. Yeah, loved. He doesn’t much love him nowadays, does he? His bottle of Jack Daniels is a better friend than his own brother ever was, and Mokuba Kaiba thinks nothing when he unscrews the cap and puts the bottle to his lips, taking a swig.
Oh no, he doesn’t have an alcohol problem, not by far. It’s just that when you live alone, and have no more servants to do your every bidding, you get… sloppy. Lazy. Like, too lazy to get up from your couch and walk all the way over to your kitchen to get a decent glass. He can’t stand alcohol that much either, and he’s about to go to bed anyway. A small sip of the burning stuff oddly helps him to fall asleep faster.
Because when he’s in his bed, alone, his thoughts return and inevitably turn towards Seto. The high and mighty CEO of KaibaCorp. who doesn’t send him a birthday card, who doesn’t return his calls or text messages but leaves his secretary to send him an e-mail that ‘Kaiba-sama is busy’. Too busy for his own brother, yes. Sure, Seto has made him ‘vice president’, but it’s just as hollow as everything else. Seto probably doesn’t even know that Mokuba makes his own money, has his own career, heck, he probably doesn’t even know that Mokuba moved out of the large Kaiba Mansion.
He’s given up hope that his brother will work less than 130 hours a week, that his brother will become less obsessed with Duel Monsters and virtual technology, and that his brother will finally remember his name.
Maybe another sip will help. Tonight’s going to be rough.
No one in the Ishtar family looks his or her age. Isis, who should be in the prime of her life, looks like a forty year old woman, carrying all the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. Rishid, also in the prime of his life, should be out and about, hanging out with friends, enjoying everything to the fullest, getting married and be happy. He looks mid-thirty, his face covered with scars and markings, and his eyes tell the sad and thorough horrors he’s been through.
The youngest of the family, Malik, should be at school, also hanging out with friends, and his biggest care should be whether he passed that math test or not. But Malik Ishtar is scarred for life, literally, and he has no window to stare out of, he has no freedom around him, for the Tomb Keepers have pledged themselves to eternal guarding of the Pharaoh’s tomb.
It reeks of death and destruction, of suffocating and sorrow. There’s no light, only darkness, and sometimes a voice chuckles and then laughs, a horrible laugh that sends shivers down his spine. Living underground has marred his emotional features, leaving him filled with rage and resentment, with anger and contempt, and nothing his sister or brother will say, will change his mind.
In his deepest and darkest moments, he wants to kill himself, but he can’t. There are enough sharp knives around here, enough rope to tie a nice knot. Malik doesn’t know what keeps him from doing it. It’s all so bitter and cold around here. He can’t leave. He’s caged, like a pet bird. He has no wings to fly away, and this damp tomb is the most claustrophobic cage he can ever think of.
When will he ever get to leave here? When you kill them all, that dark voice whispers to him. Then you can fly away, just like a bird. A pretty bird, with golden wings, flying high in the sky.
Maybe he should listen, after all.
“I do not think I like this song.”
“It’s a really weird song, I agree, mou hitori no boku.”
“Where does Jounouchi-kun get all this music from?”
“Internet, mou hitori no boku…”
“Ah, illegally…”
Yuugi blushes as he chuckles. As always, Jounouchi has given him a few CD’s with music from all over the place. Every week it’s a surprise what’s on the CD’s: it can vary from hip hop to reggaeton, from early 80’s and 90’s to death metal. It’s a great way to boost his own music knowledge, apart from J-pop and J-rock, and the best part is: listening together to the mix of music on the CD’s, on the bed, cuddled up nice and cozy together.
“Why are they repeating ‘1984’ over and over again?”
“I think it comes from a movie soundtrack,” Yuugi ponders, “a book with the same title made into a movie…”
“Ah, George Orwell, now I understand.”
“You only like the classics, mou hitori no boku.”
“I am a Pharaoh from an ancient dynasty, aibou…”
“And now you’re my boyfriend and hot, sexy lover…”
“Which reminds me, why does the female singer say “sex crime” all the time?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a part of the song, I guess.”
“Sex is not a crime, is it?”
Yuugi tilts his head a little. “Well, not unless you go about your business with terribly young boys or girls, or against the wishes of your partner…”
“You are killing the mood, aibou…”
Yuugi moved his hand down to unabashedly grab his lover by the balls, literally. He grins. “Your mood doesn’t feel like it can be killed.”
“Would you turn off the music then, or put on Chopin instead? I am getting a headache…”
Yuugi kisses him. He loves classical music in the background when they’re making love. Jounouchi’s mix CD can wait. Grabbing the remote of the stereo, Yuugi presses ‘stop’, and changes the CD. As soon as the piano tones float through the room, he turns towards Yami, rolls on top of him and kisses him passionately, shivering as he feels his Other’s warm hands already roaming his back.
“Sex with you is never a crime…”
“I knew you were going to say that, aibou…”
“Jii-chan!”
With a smile on his face, Mutou Yuugi turned around. His grandchild, Yuuki, already hurried through the GameShop to attach himself to his leg. Yuugi patted Yuuki on the head, noticing that his hair was becoming more and more eccentric. He himself had turned grey, just like Mutou Sugoroku decades before him, and there was such an uncanny resemble between himself and his grandfather that it made him choke up a little whenever he saw himself in the mirror.
“You’re going to help me in the shop this afternoon, Yuuki-chan?”
“I love to, Jii-chan!”
Yuugi bend over and lifted the small child up, putting him on the counter top. Nothing had changed, not even the register; cash only, no plastic. Thrilled, the young kid pushed at the buttons and cried with joy at the sounds. It had been a long time since he had been so… open to the world, Yuugi mused. No fear, no anger, no bitterness. Everything was wonderful and amazing, and he had loved to meet new people. Things had changed. He had changed. The people around him had changed. Yuuki was the only one bringing some happiness in his life, that had turned dark ever since his Other left him. Anzu left him too, ever since the moment she realized she had been a mere replacement. The only people he still saw, were the customers in his shop and his grandchild…
“Jii-chan,” Yuuki said, noticing his grandfather’s sullenness. Yuugi immediately turned up his smile. He still knew how to do that, to give a wonderful, 1000-Watt smile and give the impression that everything is all right. It was taught to him as a child. A lesson he had never forgotten.
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Date: 2012-01-04 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-05 11:35 am (UTC)