Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction / D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Kyu wa murasaki des. (Today is purple) ❯ Chapter Seven. ( Chapter 7 )

~~~Chapter Seven of Kio wa murasaki des. (Today is purple).By Sweetdeily.~~~

Almost a month of living with Dark and Yami was practically house-trained. Of course, even when he did graffiti some of the walls, the cleaners- bitching and muttering obscenities in their native language- would have it clean again in a matter of painstaking hours.

Yami had fallen into the habit of returning home after school. Well, returning home at all was an unusual habit for him. The mansion wasn’t filled with the uncomfortable, strained silence of his real parent’s house. Whenever Dark was home, the heavy metal, vibrating- floor-music was blaring loudly enough that if there had of been any neighbors within earshot, they could have called the police and talked about the sound barrier being brutalized. The house; when Dark wasn’t home, smelt of cigarette smoke and leather. A smell that eased Yami into a sense of comfort.

The phone didn’t ring endlessly except for calls from Yami’s friends. The servants didn’t give him greasy looks when he left towels lying on the floor, or when they saw him walking around in his gothic attire.

Dark swore just as much as he did, on the rare occasions that he picked Yami up from school he drove the car as fast as it would go and played the music so loudly that Yami felt like he was in a rave-pit, right up against the speakers.

And gradually, Yami stopped plotting his return back to Newena. His ‘home’. He didn’t have to run away from the cops constantly. He didn’t have to fight with parents or kick little old ladies in their prosthetic legs.

Everything was paid for; everything was ‘taken care of’. School was a quiet and easy way to spend the day, and Yugi was there.

Yami had taken a nice shine to the short-fry. He was even considering dating him. Something Yami didn’t normally do. A fuck was a fuck. Sometimes he’d had fuck-buddies. But there was something about Yugi’s ‘properness’ that suggested the boy might take offence to being called a fuck-buddy. Yami didn’t really want to offend Yugi. The kid was nice to him, and had those big eyes that made everyone feel sorry for him.

It must have been long term exposure to those eyes.

Then there were the doctors. Dark had mentioned that they’d be coming around eventually. It was too much money for them not too. And Dark couldn’t buy them –all- off.

“So, Yami, I hear from the school psychologist that you have a bit of rebellious streak. That’s alright, it’s perfectly normal in children your age.” The Doctor was saying.

Yami hadn’t gotten his name, Mr. Pegy or something. He reclined in the school councilor’s office, smoking despite the signs on the walls telling him what his lungs were going to look like in a few years, and reading the words that appeared on the computer screen. The doctors were a pain in the ass, they’d stopped trying to come to the mansion and had started coming to the school. They interrupted his classes and sometimes non-too-gently pulled him out of the rooms and insisted on interrogating him. he was so sick of their shit.

“Well, I see you’re anxious to get back to class, so why don’t we start then?” Pegy was saying.

Yami took another drag of his fag and blew the air into Pegy’s face. “Eiigo ga hanashite wa narimasen.” (I don’t speak English,) He intoned in a whiny voice.

“Your accent suggests otherwise, Yami.” The doctor smiled.

Yami raised an eyebrow. “Can I fucking go yet, then?”

“After you answer some questions for me, okay, son?”

Yami sighed in defeat and blew more smoke into the man’s face. He didn’t seem phased. A hard nut to crack this one.

“Alright, lets begin.”

Pegy held up a blank white card. “What is the picture on the other side of this card?”

Yami shrugged. “I dunno’. It could be fucking blank for all I fucking know. What the fuck do you think I am, psychic?”

“Just think about it.” He had a cocky smile that suggested he was highly confident in the answer he would get.

Yami shrugged again. “A fucking cactus. There, happy? Can I fucking leave now?”

Pegy frowned, obviously disappointed. “No, it was the number four.”

“Well thar’ we fuckin’ go.” Yami stubbed his cigarette into the chair arm and crossed his leg. “Anything fucking else? I’m missing fucking Japanese.”

“You do a lot of Japanese, don’t you? What’s your interest in the language?”

“I fucking like it.” Yami brought out another cigarette. This guy was making him nervous. He was too interested in Yami’s personal life for his own good.

“What’s the square root of two-hundred-and-thirty-six-point-one?”

“Forty-eight-po int-triple-three-two-one-eight.” Yami answered nonchalantly.

“The capital of Kuwait?”

“Kuwait you twit. Fucking done yet?”

“And how many words are in the English language?”

“Three.” Yami yawned and examined his nails. His left index finger was chipped a bit. He’d need to scrap all the polish off and reapply it.

The man whistled, noting a few things down. “Where did you learn all this?”

“Primary school. Fucking done yet?”

“And that was Neweana primary, right?”

“How about fucking who cares? I’m fucking tired of you fucking pricks. Are you fucking done fucking yet?” Yami growled, he was biting down on his fag, eyes narrowed.

“What your language you little brat.” Mr. Pegy growled.

Yami blew smoke into the man’s face and stood up. Pegy had the kind of ice-cold eyes that said he wasn’t completely honest, his white hair was too well taken care of for him to be a casual ‘nice’ guy, and people who could afford good hair-care had a lot of money. Yami was betting government money.

“We’re done, fuck-head.” He turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Yami quickly finished that cigarette and started a new one, walking back to class. He loitered for a few minutes, getting his nerves back under control; what was with all the intelligence questions? He wasn’t a prodigy. He was sure of it; he didn’t have a photographic memory like Dark did and he occasionally got things wrong. Like the question about the English language, he was about to answer six-hundred-thousand according to the Oxford dictionary, then he’d realized the riddle. But the fact that the doctors were taking such interest freaked him out. That, and he was sick of answering their questions and listening to them psycho-analyze him.

~~~

Dark was home when Yami got back from school. Linkin Park ‘papercut’ was playing at full volume throughout the mansion and Yami sucked in the heavy music like air. Oh, it wasn’t as heavy as things by Ramstein could be. But it suited his mood just fine.

He dumped his school-bag in the foyer and trudged into the kitchen, knowing that would be where he’d find the ‘business man’. Dark and he often gorged themselves in snacks after work and school respectfully. Mostly pizza or re-heated leftovers from the night before.

Dark was eating ice-cream from a tub; it was double chocolate fudge with caramel chips in it. Brain-coma food. Chicks ate it for comfort. Dark ate it for something like that. He was hungry, and it comforted him to not be so.

Yami grunted a greeting to the man and opened the fridge. “What the fuck is with people and their fucking obsession with analyzing fucking intelligence? You’d fucking think they were fucking worried smart people would fucking rise up and fucking take over the fucking world while they puzzle over the fucking inner workings of the fucking slinky.”

“More fucking doctors?”

Yami pulled out a can of soda and some butter chicken leftovers. “Fuckin’ oath. Four of them today. And one of them was a fucking freak.”

“How so?”

“How many words in the English language?” Yami quoted.

“Literally or interpretational?” Dark asked.

“Literally; of course.”

“Three. The. English. Language.” He sucked in some ice-cream.

Yami put the chicken and some precooked rice on a plate and shoved it in the microwave. “Yeah, well what fucking kind of question is that to fucking ask me concerning intelligence? He was all like, ‘what is on this blank card’ and it didn’t take a fucking genius to figure out he was cracking onto me.”

“You think everyone is fucking cracking onto you.”

“They fucking are.”

“What about your little fucking side-kick, the nerdy fucking one? He doesn’t crack onto you.”

“That’s because I crack onto him.”

“You got a thing for dwarves?”

Yami snorted and took the cooked food out of the microwave, finding himself a fork. “No, I like masturbating.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t gonna’ say, but he looks a fucking lot like you before all the black shit goes on.”

“Hey, I don’t complain about your face.”

“There’s nothing to complain about. I bet any of your friends would do me in a fucking heartbeat.”

“The gangster and the freaky twins; yes, but not the dwarf and the normal one.”

“Who’s the fucking normal one? I thought they were all freaks, or figments of your imagination at the very least.”

“Just ‘cause I got fucking friends… Daisuke Niwa; some little Asian kid; real good at sport.”

“Niwa, eh?” Dark ate another spoonful of his coma-in-a-bucket and seemed to ponder that name.

“What about him? He an alien or something?”

“No, just sounds familiar, but I don’t know why.” Dark mused.

Yami snorted and ate his food. It was good, spicy, but bearable. “You wish. You couldn’t get into any high-schooler’s pants. Let alone mine.”

“You just say that because you’re a size seven. I bet Yugi’s are small enough to fit me.”

“You fucking wish, what do you do on coffee breaks, eat twinkies in the dozen? Yugi’s pants are mine.” Yami finished, leveling his fork menacingly at Dark’s face and chewing on some rice.

“Ohhh, harsh, says the boy who fucking smokes like a chimney. Fine, your little boy Daisuke then? His pants aren’t taken, are they?”

“Who knows? For all I know, Daisuke is a girl in guys clothing.”

“Could be, I mean, who names their son ‘I really like you?”

“Who names their son dark?”

“Look who’s talking. At least I’m the noun.”

Yami gave Dark the middle finger and finished his meal. “I’m having friends over.”

“Are not.”

“Fucking am.”

“Fucking not.”

“Fucking am.”

“Fucking not.”

“Why the fuck not?” Yami growled.

“What are we gonna’ fuckin’ feed them?”

“Have you actually ever seen the fridge? I’ll manage.”

“Fine. Just don’t play your music until the wee hours. Some of us have to earn money for a living.”

“Speaking of which, what kind of earning would that be?”

“The kind of earning that earns.”

“And what is the fucking job title that comes with that?”

“I’ve told you, I’m a business man.”

Yami sighed and gave up. obviously he didn’t really need to know that badly. Besides, he’d invited Yugi over for a slumber party and had to buy some condoms.



~ To be Continued…

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