Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Behind Blue Eyes: Seto's Story ❯ Day One: Hellish Slumber ( Chapter 4 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: kiokukaiba 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.14.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.2K | Visits: 408 | Status: Work In Progress
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 08.14.2007 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.2K | Visits: 408 | Status: Work In Progress
Behind Blue Eyes: Seto’s Story
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Warning: This story is from Seto’s POV and therefore might reveal things that you didn’t pick up on in Behind Blue Eyes. Chances are, such events were in the other story, but in a more subtle fashion. If this story spoils anything for the other story. . . then I’m sorry!
Disclaimer: Definitely don’t own Yu-Gi-Oh.
- - -
The rest of the trip was pretty much uneventful, save for that stupid mutt going on about some weirdo at the mall as though I gave a damn or something. He managed to drag me along from shop to shop until he was just as bored with it as I was when we first got there. Then he got up the nerve to beg me to go grocery shopping with him. What the hell did he think I was, his new playmate? So basically I wound up pushing a rickety old cart through a nasty-ass food shop with Jounouchi running around like a five year old throwing junk food into it. . . of course, he knew full well that I was going to be the one paying for it. . . and I did. My one good deed for the month was done. He probably thanked me for it a million times over, so I finally waved a hand at him to shut him the hell up. Thank God it worked.
It was probably around six when we found our way back to his apartment complex. He even had me hauling half of the bags. . . what a way to treat a guest! Damned mutt. . . I mean seriously! I know that he doesn’t have nearly as much money or intelligence as I do, and that he was raised to be the nasty mongrel that he is now, but that should be all the more reason to cater to me and do kind things for me. He should want with all of his being to get on my good side in hopes that I might teach him a thing or two. But no, he just smiled with that goofy smile and scratched at that scruffy blond hair of his and treated me just like he treated everyone else under the sun.
I left him to put the food away on his own. I bought the shit and carried a good bit of it, so why in the hell should I have to put it away too? Definitely not. Besides, who knows what I would find in those cabinets while trying to find places for everything. Probably rats and spiders. . . blegh. Such filth. I could feel the dirt settling on my skin every time I walked in the place. I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him go about his work.
It went on for a while, him going from the bags to the fridge or from the bags to the cabinets, put away article after article of food. I guess silence bothered him, because he felt the need to attempt a conversation.
“Have you decided where you will be sleeping tonight?” Ugh, not this shit again.
“The bed.” Obviously
“Do we have to go through this again? I’m sleeping in my bed.”
“Then let me sleep in your father’s room.” It was a reasonable thing to say, in my opinion. . . mind you, my opinion is right 99.9 percent of the time.
He hesitated for a second, moving his mouth as though he were at a loss for words, “No, you can’t sleep in there.”
“I don’t really want to, I just wanted to see what your reaction would be.” I sighed, “Guess you’ll be sleeping on the floor. I’m your guest, after all. You should always treat your guests with respect.” Damn right!
“You do realize that all of this still applies when I go to your place, right?” He smiled at me like he was so fucking clever or something. Pfeh!
I furrowed my brows at him, “There are plenty of useable beds in my house. Such a problem will never come up.”
He pulled at his hair, which I found rather amusing, “Fine. Sleep in my bed tonight and I’ll sleep on the floor. . . but tomorrow night we switch.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” I closed my eyes, smirking. There was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to let him have the bed. I wondered if he cleaned the sheets. . .
There was another long moment of silence and so I decided to inspect the ceiling. There were a couple of cracks around the edges. Jounouchi probably hadn’t noticed.
Speaking of the cur. . . he was grinning at me like someone that had escaped an asylum. Then again, that wouldn’t be so surprising. I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping that he would take the hint, but I refrained from saying anything. I really had no desire to talk with such a freak.
“Alright then!”
I jumped slightly in my seat at his childish outburst. He chuckled a bit, which pissed me off.
“What would you like for dinner, your royal ass-ness?”
I rolled my eyes, “I’m not an ass.”
“No, but you have a nice one.”
“Excuse me?” He couldn’t have just said what I thought he said.
“I said ‘what would you like for dinner?’”
“You’re making dinner? I’d rather eat dog shit.” I stuck out my tongue as if to prove a point.
His eyes narrowed, “That can be arranged.” I scrunched up my face and he grinned again, “You shouldn’t do that, your face will stay that way.” I pursed my lips together and turned away from his ignorance, but that only succeeded in making him laugh, “But really though, I’m a pretty good cook. . . how about we have spaghetti? I make the best spaghetti in all of Domino! You’ll see!” He began moving about the kitchen, apparently looking for the proper ingredients.
“Whatever you say, mutt.” I watched him put the water on to boil. I began to think. So far, he had been calling me sexy and talking about my ass. What would become of such behavior? I mean, I suppose that it could be passed off as a way to irritate me, which it obviously did, but. . . something just wasn’t the same as it usually was, and changed bothered the hell out of me. I spoke softly now, “Hey, Jounouchi. . .”
He peered over his shoulder at me, “Did you say something?”
“Yeah. . .” I wasn’t exactly sure how to ask him, so I did the best I could with the words currently floating in my mind. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“The things that you have been saying to me and about me!” I narrowed my eyes to the point that they were practically slits and curled my fists together atop the sorry excuse for a kitchen table, “Like when you called me sexy, or a minute ago when you said I had a nice ass!” I fought the blush that threatened to rise in my cheeks at the mentioning of my own ass.
“What? You should know that you’re sexy. . . or do you not notice all of the babes that practically drool all over you.”
Did he just totally admit to saying all of those things? Was he absolutely serious? He wasn’t just fucking around? “But-”
“Let me guess, but I’m a guy, right? And guys can’t compliment other guys? Get out of the stone age, Kaiba. People don’t really give a fuck who likes who, who fucks who. . . I mean, I could fuck your brains out right now, and hardly anyone would find it so disgusting.” I think that my eyes were covering about fifty percent of my face right about then. Did he realize what exactly he was saying? I couldn’t hold back the blush burning at my cheeks, and even my hands betrayed me by dropping to my lap, the fists long forgotten. He laughed, “What? Does it really bother you that much?” I huffed and looked away from him, trying to remain even the smallest piece of my dignity. He felt the need to add one last remark, “Oh yeah, and you do have a nice ass.” My head snapped back to face him, anger likely evident in my eyes.
The silence came flowing in again, and I was thankful for it. Jounouchi had done enough damage to leave me burning for about fifteen minutes. During this time, he had poured the pasta into its pot. When they were good and soft, he spooned it into two decent-sized bowls, covering it in spaghetti sauce and topping it off with a layer of cheese that he had shredded by himself. I sniffed at the serving he had set in front of me before I even dared to taste it.
“Is it good?” He asked, wanting to hear praise from me.
“I’ve had better.” I lied. Damn! Okay, so he could cook, big deal. I had to admit though, I hadn’t had better pasta than what currently sat in front of me. I tried to pick at it and eat slowly so he would believe me. I was pretty good at trickery.
During dinner, our conversation jumped from subject to subject, a lot of topics being in some way related to school or my job. Have you ever gotten to talking about someone that really pisses you off and then you just can’t explain their stupid antics without getting up and imitating it? Well, I happen to have a high-ranking employee that really gets on my last nerve. . . he walks strangely and moves in an awkward manner. His voice grinds on my eardrums. Anyways, I couldn’t really explaining it without acting it out myself. . . and I didn’t really realize how ridiculous I must have seemed until after the fact. . . but while I was acting, I didn’t feel strange at all. . . I was totally comfortable doing what I was doing. Maybe I needed to up my meds. . .
I’d say it was about seven-thirty in the evening when he cleaned up the dishes. He had told me about how shitty he was doing in math, which wasn’t news to me, and so I agreed to help him. Looks like I was going to cover my good deed for next month as well.
“So, what exactly is it that you need help with?” I asked, casually. We sat on the bedroom floor by his bed. Well, he sat cross-legged and I kinda laid on my side with my head propped up by my arm in some sort of search for comfort. I lay close enough so that I could see the homework.
“Are you even listening to me?” I glared up at him, snapping him out of whatever daydream he was having.
“Oh, sorry, what?”
“I asked you what you needed help with.”
“Math.”
“No shit Sherlock.” He laughed that stupid laugh and I rolled my eyes, “I meant what about math don’t you understand?”
“Uh, all of it.” He bit his lip and looked down at me. I only managed to stare back.
“So you mean to tell me that you wouldn’t even know where to begin?” I rolled over to lay on my back, clasping my hands together behind my head. . . a much more comfortable position.
“Uh, yup.” He smiled a stupid, half-smile.
Okay, I wasn’t so cozy anymore. I sighed and rolled over yet again, this time on my stomach. I think that my side was against one of his knees, but it didn’t bother me or anything and I really didn’t feel like moving again. I used my elbows to prop my front half up. I picked up his pencil and began to demonstrate how it was done.
“You see now? Try one on your own now.” I placed the pencil gently into his hand and watched on with curiosity as he repeated my steps. I checked over his completed work, “Yup, you got it right, mutt.” I glanced up at him.
“Do I get a prize?”
“Excuse me?” I scooted away by a couple centimeters. What?
“Yeah, I showed you fun at the mall, I cooked you dinner, I paid attention enough to learn some math. . . and now I want a prize.” All the while, his eyes seemed to be looking me up and down shortly before coming to rest on my face. He was making me uneasy.
“Sorry mutt, but I have no prize for you.” For the millionth time that day, I rolled my eyes. His little games were getting more annoying with each passing second.
Without the slightest warning, he laid half-way on me so that his chin rested on my shoulder and his chest was against my back. I stiffened up at the sudden intimate contact.
“Let’s play, Seto.” He purred, daring to use my first name. I didn’t like where this was going.
I rolled quickly to the side, knocking him off of me, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mutt?!” I screamed, trying to hide the slightest hint of fear within me.
“I was just messing with you!” He laughed and rubbed at the back of his head, “Come on, dude, I’m straight! I only did that ‘cause of what you said earlier about me calling you sexy. I just wanted to get a reaction out of you!”
Even if it was just a game, I didn’t want to play. Sick games like that reminded me of. . .
“Seto-koi, let’s play a little game, shall we? Just lay on your back like a good little boy and-”
No, now was not the time to remember such things.
“I swear, if you do anything like that again, I’ll run to that kitchen, get the biggest knife, and hack you to little bits!” His eyes widened at my threat.
I leaned up against his bed, my eyes falling half-lidded. “Do you need help with your homework in any other classes?” I just needed to pretend like none of that ever happened. Those games, I don’t like those games. . . he never succeeded with those games, and Jounouchi wasn’t going to either. . .
“Are you okay?” Was he truly concerned about me?
“Yes, just a bit tired.” I slid my eyes shut and heaved a sigh to prove myself.
“It’s only eight at night.” He scooted to sit next to me.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just that I don’t get much sleep and I’ve usually had a view cups of coffee by now.”
“Oh, you work late then?”
“Usually. Don’t sleep much at home either.”
“Why not?” I opened my eyes and he persisted questioning, “Insomnia?” He laughed a bit and I faced him, not at all amused.
“Yeah, something like that. So then, what is there to do now?” I stopped looking him in the eyes for fear that my own might give something away. . . as unlikely as that was. I really was so tired though. I shouldn’t have asked to do anything more. In fact, I could feel my eyelids falling heavy.
I think that he said something like “Whatever you want to do” but I had fallen asleep the moment it left his lips.
Such a slumber didn’t last for very long. I woke just as I felt myself being laid on a soft mattress. Jounouchi’s bed no less. He didn’t climb in with me like I suspected, though. I did, however, hear a very quiet zipping noise across the room. It was Jounouchi going through my shit again! Luckily it was just my schoolbooks and whatnot. He had already found my secret bag. Apparently disappointed with his findings, or lack thereof, he zipped it back up and put it precisely how he had found it.
I decided that I ought to let him know I was awake. “Going through my things again?” He spun around in time to see me sitting up, using my arms to hold me there. “If you think you’re going to find anything interesting, you’re sadly mistaken. You’ve already found what I would have tried to hide from you.” My irritation was probably very evident.
“Sorry, I get too curious for my own good I guess.” He frowned, rubbing at the back of his head again. “Did I wake you up?”
“No, it was because of the light.” I lied again.
He seemed to daze about yet again and I tilted my head, “Do you think a lot?”
“Yeah. . . why?”
“You just seem kind of lost in your own head a lot of the time. . . of course, I guess that’s pretty easy to do with a head as empty as yours.” I smirked at my little comment and he laughed.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
I looked at his clock, “Still early.” My gaze returned to him and my bags, “Perhaps I ought to go ahead and take my medicine so that I don’t forget it. . . that certainly wouldn’t be very pretty.” I smiled half-heartedly.
“Yeah. . . I’ll probably go ahead and get my pajamas on.”
“You mean your school uniform?” I tilted his head again in mock innocense.
“Yeah, yeah, keep joking rich-boy.” He smiled yet again, even though I was teasing him.
“I suppose I’ll change too, then.” I stood, wandering over to my bags.
He leapt to his feet after a moment of gawking and went to his chest of drawers to retrieve pajamas. . . I headed for the bathroom to change in privacy.
I made sure to lock the door, as I didn’t want him to walk in on me or anything. I peeled my shirt away and reached around to feel my back. My memories were there on my skin, embodied as horrible scars from whip lashes. It was hideous, I knew, for I had looked at my back in the mirror often, usually after a hot shower. My whole body was ugly. The scars on my wrists and the scars on my back were just icing on the cake. I was ugly because of what I had allowed to happen to my body. . . what I had allowed those people to do to my body. Why?
I popped open the bottles and dumped out my required dosage of tablets, using the disgusting faucet water to wash down the vile things. This was my life. . . a mask and medication. That was me, forever. I was at the mercy of pills and society. . . and people called me so lucky.
I squirted a pea-sized amount of toothpaste onto my brush (just the amount that the tube says!) And popped it into my mouth, scrubbing at my pearly-whites.
There was a gentle knock at the door.
“What?” I replied, annoyed by his interruption of my thoughts, the toothbrush muffled my speech a bit.
“Why are you changing in the bathroom? You got tits or something?”
I shoved the door open at his taunting, my toothbrush still hanging out of my mouth. “Would it have pleased you if I had changed in front of you?” He grinned and it took me a second to realize just how that sounded, “Never mind, don’t answer that.” I retreated back into the bathroom to finish my task.
I spit the foamed paste into the sink, using one of his paper cups to rinse my mouth clean.
“Hey Seto?” He began in that childish manner of his.
“Kaiba.” I corrected.
“Hey Kaiba?”
“What.” A statement, not a question.
“What was that disorder you have again?”
I glared sharply at him. Who the hell did he think he was to bring that topic up again?, “Leave it alone, Jounouchi.” I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back my anger.
“I just couldn’t remember the name. . .” He wasn’t even about to let it go, was he? “Post Traumatic. . .”
I marched past him, already at my tolerance limit, “I say we go to bed early.”
As we entered his room, he grabbed me tightly on my right shoulder and roughly spun me around, getting as close to my face as I thought possible, “Yeah, of course you say that! You’re just too much of a coward to talk about your disorders! Not my fault you’re fucked in the head!”
Fucked in the head. . . yeah, yeah I was. . . and after this, he’d probably tell everyone. Kaiba Seto was fucked in the head. With good reason. . . it was all my fault. I fucked myself up. Without so much as a word to give him the satisfaction he wanted, I lay on his bed, covered myself up with the sheets, and faced the wall.
I could feel the weight shift as he sat next to me on the bed, “Se- Kaiba. . . I didn’t mean that. I really don’t think that you’re fucked up in the head. . . you know, I don’t think before I say things.” He paused for a moment as though he expected me to say something in reply, “Say something.” I only closed my eyes and he huffed, “Fine, be an ass.” He got up, apparently leaving the room for who-knows what reason. It wasn’t long until he returned. It sounded like he was dragging something, “Kaiba, get up, you’re sleeping on the floor.”
“Excuse me?” I sat up in a flash. Oh, so he had dragged some pillows and blankets in.
“You heard me. Floor. Now.” He pointed at the blankets. Oh, so was I supposed to be the dog now?
I studied him to see if this was supposed to be a joke too, “Fine.” I slid from the bed.
“No, wait.” He really couldn’t make up his mind.
“What now?”
There wasn’t any time to react. Jounouchi pushed me back onto the bed, “We can share my bed.” I struggled against him, but he held me with ease. . . I don’t remember him being so strong when last we met.
“Let me go, dammit!”
“Chill out! I’m not going to be weird, I promise.”
Again, I was stunned by more strange activity. He leaned over me, turning out the lamp, and then placed a kiss on my forehead. A kiss. On my forehead. From a guy. From a guy named Jounouchi Katsuya. A kiss. On my forehead. On my forehead. And yet. . .
“Goodnight, Seto-koi. . . don’t be afraid anymore. I’m here, and I’ll protect you from him. I promise, my love. I’ll never hurt you. Go to sleep, my precious blue-eyed doll. . .”
Saki. . . Even now, those words sooth me. The memories of that voice calm me and lull me to sleep every night. . . just as your betrayal kills me a little more each day. With such a gentle memory in my heart, I was able to finally go to sleep. . .
- - -
It was just like any other day. More men. There were always more. With Kaiba Corporations ridiculous popularity, there was always another deal to be sealed. . . and what better way to do it, or so my atrocious adoptive father believed, than to offer them a lovely teenage boy for the night.
Lovely? There is nothing lovely about a doll that has been broken and over-used. No one wants a broken doll that cannot be fixed. No one but sick men that want to see if it can be completely shattered.
Hands. Hands all over my body. Running up and down, up and down. Over and under. . . not a single bit of flesh left untouched. . . not a region of my mind not flooded by thoughts of what was next. I knew what would happen, I always knew. It was the same. Why did I bother fighting? I wanted some sort of dignity. . . If I kept fighting, it wouldn’t be my fault, but. . .
It was my fault. It was my fault for living, for beating Gozaburo in that chess match all those years ago.
The hands persisted, restraining my wrists, my body bare and exposed to their hungry eyes. They were naked from the waist down, not willing to fully strip in front of their toy. Powerful arms spread my legs wide, while men held them tightly in place. Like always, I was secured this way. . . spread eagle on a guest room bed with sweaty older men hovering around me like vultures swarming a fresh carcass.
That’s all I was really, a fresh piece of meat. ‘Beautiful’ they would say, ‘so absolutely gorgeous’, ‘so fuckable’. They always said the same things. Perverted older men, no older than my adoptive father, the one I was forced to call ‘master’ behind closed doors. The hands would rub at me, cocks forcing their way into me anywhere there was space. . . my mouth, sometimes two at a time, my hands, and, their favorite, my ass. ‘Such a tight little thing’ they would tell me as they penetrated me.
Pain. So much pain. Screams that fell on ears that didn’t care, or maybe just didn’t hear. I could cry, but that would result in only more pain in the end. Don’t cry. Don’t ever cry. Crying is for the weak. The weak die. Death. . . it really wasn’t such a scary thing. . . no, not really such a scary thing.
But I usually did cry, despite what I wanted to do. I would cry and my body would betray me, arching up to meet their rabid thrusts. No, I didn’t want that. . . but like those men, my body didn’t care. My body didn’t mind the blood that coated my inner thighs or the cum that I coughed up from the depths of my throat or the hands that rubbed and groped and fondled. . . no, I have such an ugly body. So ugly. . . slut. I’m a nasty slut. Always.
Suddenly, the men were gone. Only the Devil himself remained. The Devil. Kaiba Gozaburo. The whips stretched tightly in his hand. His brows were furrowed angrily. He was angry at me, of course. I cried again. . . I fought again. . . I called out for my mother again. I was only thirteen. I wanted my mother, my father, Mokuba. . . I wanted my friend from my old school.
The whip would come down with an unmistakable crack. I would whimper, the blood draining down my back was so easy to feel. A second whip. . . third, fourth fifth. . . before long I would cry, and call out again. I would plead, just as always.
He pinned my hands above my head, my wrists squeezed tightly in a single hand of his. How was he on top of me so suddenly? When had that happened? But I knew what would happen when he did this to me. . . the same thing that always happened, and I was helpless as always.
- - -
“Stop! No! No! Stop!” I could feel my body convulsing and someone was screaming. . . I was screaming. . . such an awful sound. He was going to rape me. . . again. I couldn’t do this anymore. Not anymore.
Someone was shaking me. Who was shaking me? Who was calling my name so desperately?
“Wake up! God dammit, Seto, wake up! You’re scaring the hell out of me! Please, Seto. . . god, please, wake up, don’t cry anymore! Seto, wake up!”
Wake up? Crying? Oh. . . a nightmare. . .
“Jounouchi?” I opened my eyes only to have my fears confirmed, “Jounouchi. . .”
“You scared the hell out of me!” He sounded angry, but he was crying, “Please, don’t do that anymore. . .” He collapsed onto me, wrapping his arms around my waist, with his face level with my own.
“Do what?” I wiped at my eyes, trying to play it off as nothing. Yeah, if I just made him look like the crazy one. . .
“You know damn well. . . Your disorder. . .”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. . . yes.” There was a feeling of mutual knowledge then. But one thing still puzzled me, “Why are you crying?”
“Because you worried me. . .” He pressed his face lightly against my left cheek.
“You’re strange. . . you hate me, yet you worry about me.”
“I don’t hate you!” He used his arms to lift himself.
“Yes you do, you despise me.” He hated me, I just knew he did.
“I don’t hate you, dammit! I l-” We locked eyes, and he never looked so frightened before.
“You what?” A word that begins with the letter ‘L’. It was a positive word. . . so that left ‘like’ and ‘love’. . . and I sure as hell hope it wasn’t meant to be the latter.
- - -
- - -
Warning: This story is from Seto’s POV and therefore might reveal things that you didn’t pick up on in Behind Blue Eyes. Chances are, such events were in the other story, but in a more subtle fashion. If this story spoils anything for the other story. . . then I’m sorry!
Disclaimer: Definitely don’t own Yu-Gi-Oh.
- - -
The rest of the trip was pretty much uneventful, save for that stupid mutt going on about some weirdo at the mall as though I gave a damn or something. He managed to drag me along from shop to shop until he was just as bored with it as I was when we first got there. Then he got up the nerve to beg me to go grocery shopping with him. What the hell did he think I was, his new playmate? So basically I wound up pushing a rickety old cart through a nasty-ass food shop with Jounouchi running around like a five year old throwing junk food into it. . . of course, he knew full well that I was going to be the one paying for it. . . and I did. My one good deed for the month was done. He probably thanked me for it a million times over, so I finally waved a hand at him to shut him the hell up. Thank God it worked.
It was probably around six when we found our way back to his apartment complex. He even had me hauling half of the bags. . . what a way to treat a guest! Damned mutt. . . I mean seriously! I know that he doesn’t have nearly as much money or intelligence as I do, and that he was raised to be the nasty mongrel that he is now, but that should be all the more reason to cater to me and do kind things for me. He should want with all of his being to get on my good side in hopes that I might teach him a thing or two. But no, he just smiled with that goofy smile and scratched at that scruffy blond hair of his and treated me just like he treated everyone else under the sun.
I left him to put the food away on his own. I bought the shit and carried a good bit of it, so why in the hell should I have to put it away too? Definitely not. Besides, who knows what I would find in those cabinets while trying to find places for everything. Probably rats and spiders. . . blegh. Such filth. I could feel the dirt settling on my skin every time I walked in the place. I took a seat at the kitchen table and watched him go about his work.
It went on for a while, him going from the bags to the fridge or from the bags to the cabinets, put away article after article of food. I guess silence bothered him, because he felt the need to attempt a conversation.
“Have you decided where you will be sleeping tonight?” Ugh, not this shit again.
“The bed.” Obviously
“Do we have to go through this again? I’m sleeping in my bed.”
“Then let me sleep in your father’s room.” It was a reasonable thing to say, in my opinion. . . mind you, my opinion is right 99.9 percent of the time.
He hesitated for a second, moving his mouth as though he were at a loss for words, “No, you can’t sleep in there.”
“I don’t really want to, I just wanted to see what your reaction would be.” I sighed, “Guess you’ll be sleeping on the floor. I’m your guest, after all. You should always treat your guests with respect.” Damn right!
“You do realize that all of this still applies when I go to your place, right?” He smiled at me like he was so fucking clever or something. Pfeh!
I furrowed my brows at him, “There are plenty of useable beds in my house. Such a problem will never come up.”
He pulled at his hair, which I found rather amusing, “Fine. Sleep in my bed tonight and I’ll sleep on the floor. . . but tomorrow night we switch.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” I closed my eyes, smirking. There was absolutely no way in hell that I was going to let him have the bed. I wondered if he cleaned the sheets. . .
There was another long moment of silence and so I decided to inspect the ceiling. There were a couple of cracks around the edges. Jounouchi probably hadn’t noticed.
Speaking of the cur. . . he was grinning at me like someone that had escaped an asylum. Then again, that wouldn’t be so surprising. I raised an eyebrow at him, hoping that he would take the hint, but I refrained from saying anything. I really had no desire to talk with such a freak.
“Alright then!”
I jumped slightly in my seat at his childish outburst. He chuckled a bit, which pissed me off.
“What would you like for dinner, your royal ass-ness?”
I rolled my eyes, “I’m not an ass.”
“No, but you have a nice one.”
“Excuse me?” He couldn’t have just said what I thought he said.
“I said ‘what would you like for dinner?’”
“You’re making dinner? I’d rather eat dog shit.” I stuck out my tongue as if to prove a point.
His eyes narrowed, “That can be arranged.” I scrunched up my face and he grinned again, “You shouldn’t do that, your face will stay that way.” I pursed my lips together and turned away from his ignorance, but that only succeeded in making him laugh, “But really though, I’m a pretty good cook. . . how about we have spaghetti? I make the best spaghetti in all of Domino! You’ll see!” He began moving about the kitchen, apparently looking for the proper ingredients.
“Whatever you say, mutt.” I watched him put the water on to boil. I began to think. So far, he had been calling me sexy and talking about my ass. What would become of such behavior? I mean, I suppose that it could be passed off as a way to irritate me, which it obviously did, but. . . something just wasn’t the same as it usually was, and changed bothered the hell out of me. I spoke softly now, “Hey, Jounouchi. . .”
He peered over his shoulder at me, “Did you say something?”
“Yeah. . .” I wasn’t exactly sure how to ask him, so I did the best I could with the words currently floating in my mind. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?” He seemed genuinely confused.
“The things that you have been saying to me and about me!” I narrowed my eyes to the point that they were practically slits and curled my fists together atop the sorry excuse for a kitchen table, “Like when you called me sexy, or a minute ago when you said I had a nice ass!” I fought the blush that threatened to rise in my cheeks at the mentioning of my own ass.
“What? You should know that you’re sexy. . . or do you not notice all of the babes that practically drool all over you.”
Did he just totally admit to saying all of those things? Was he absolutely serious? He wasn’t just fucking around? “But-”
“Let me guess, but I’m a guy, right? And guys can’t compliment other guys? Get out of the stone age, Kaiba. People don’t really give a fuck who likes who, who fucks who. . . I mean, I could fuck your brains out right now, and hardly anyone would find it so disgusting.” I think that my eyes were covering about fifty percent of my face right about then. Did he realize what exactly he was saying? I couldn’t hold back the blush burning at my cheeks, and even my hands betrayed me by dropping to my lap, the fists long forgotten. He laughed, “What? Does it really bother you that much?” I huffed and looked away from him, trying to remain even the smallest piece of my dignity. He felt the need to add one last remark, “Oh yeah, and you do have a nice ass.” My head snapped back to face him, anger likely evident in my eyes.
The silence came flowing in again, and I was thankful for it. Jounouchi had done enough damage to leave me burning for about fifteen minutes. During this time, he had poured the pasta into its pot. When they were good and soft, he spooned it into two decent-sized bowls, covering it in spaghetti sauce and topping it off with a layer of cheese that he had shredded by himself. I sniffed at the serving he had set in front of me before I even dared to taste it.
“Is it good?” He asked, wanting to hear praise from me.
“I’ve had better.” I lied. Damn! Okay, so he could cook, big deal. I had to admit though, I hadn’t had better pasta than what currently sat in front of me. I tried to pick at it and eat slowly so he would believe me. I was pretty good at trickery.
During dinner, our conversation jumped from subject to subject, a lot of topics being in some way related to school or my job. Have you ever gotten to talking about someone that really pisses you off and then you just can’t explain their stupid antics without getting up and imitating it? Well, I happen to have a high-ranking employee that really gets on my last nerve. . . he walks strangely and moves in an awkward manner. His voice grinds on my eardrums. Anyways, I couldn’t really explaining it without acting it out myself. . . and I didn’t really realize how ridiculous I must have seemed until after the fact. . . but while I was acting, I didn’t feel strange at all. . . I was totally comfortable doing what I was doing. Maybe I needed to up my meds. . .
I’d say it was about seven-thirty in the evening when he cleaned up the dishes. He had told me about how shitty he was doing in math, which wasn’t news to me, and so I agreed to help him. Looks like I was going to cover my good deed for next month as well.
“So, what exactly is it that you need help with?” I asked, casually. We sat on the bedroom floor by his bed. Well, he sat cross-legged and I kinda laid on my side with my head propped up by my arm in some sort of search for comfort. I lay close enough so that I could see the homework.
“Are you even listening to me?” I glared up at him, snapping him out of whatever daydream he was having.
“Oh, sorry, what?”
“I asked you what you needed help with.”
“Math.”
“No shit Sherlock.” He laughed that stupid laugh and I rolled my eyes, “I meant what about math don’t you understand?”
“Uh, all of it.” He bit his lip and looked down at me. I only managed to stare back.
“So you mean to tell me that you wouldn’t even know where to begin?” I rolled over to lay on my back, clasping my hands together behind my head. . . a much more comfortable position.
“Uh, yup.” He smiled a stupid, half-smile.
Okay, I wasn’t so cozy anymore. I sighed and rolled over yet again, this time on my stomach. I think that my side was against one of his knees, but it didn’t bother me or anything and I really didn’t feel like moving again. I used my elbows to prop my front half up. I picked up his pencil and began to demonstrate how it was done.
“You see now? Try one on your own now.” I placed the pencil gently into his hand and watched on with curiosity as he repeated my steps. I checked over his completed work, “Yup, you got it right, mutt.” I glanced up at him.
“Do I get a prize?”
“Excuse me?” I scooted away by a couple centimeters. What?
“Yeah, I showed you fun at the mall, I cooked you dinner, I paid attention enough to learn some math. . . and now I want a prize.” All the while, his eyes seemed to be looking me up and down shortly before coming to rest on my face. He was making me uneasy.
“Sorry mutt, but I have no prize for you.” For the millionth time that day, I rolled my eyes. His little games were getting more annoying with each passing second.
Without the slightest warning, he laid half-way on me so that his chin rested on my shoulder and his chest was against my back. I stiffened up at the sudden intimate contact.
“Let’s play, Seto.” He purred, daring to use my first name. I didn’t like where this was going.
I rolled quickly to the side, knocking him off of me, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, mutt?!” I screamed, trying to hide the slightest hint of fear within me.
“I was just messing with you!” He laughed and rubbed at the back of his head, “Come on, dude, I’m straight! I only did that ‘cause of what you said earlier about me calling you sexy. I just wanted to get a reaction out of you!”
Even if it was just a game, I didn’t want to play. Sick games like that reminded me of. . .
“Seto-koi, let’s play a little game, shall we? Just lay on your back like a good little boy and-”
No, now was not the time to remember such things.
“I swear, if you do anything like that again, I’ll run to that kitchen, get the biggest knife, and hack you to little bits!” His eyes widened at my threat.
I leaned up against his bed, my eyes falling half-lidded. “Do you need help with your homework in any other classes?” I just needed to pretend like none of that ever happened. Those games, I don’t like those games. . . he never succeeded with those games, and Jounouchi wasn’t going to either. . .
“Are you okay?” Was he truly concerned about me?
“Yes, just a bit tired.” I slid my eyes shut and heaved a sigh to prove myself.
“It’s only eight at night.” He scooted to sit next to me.
“Yeah, I know, it’s just that I don’t get much sleep and I’ve usually had a view cups of coffee by now.”
“Oh, you work late then?”
“Usually. Don’t sleep much at home either.”
“Why not?” I opened my eyes and he persisted questioning, “Insomnia?” He laughed a bit and I faced him, not at all amused.
“Yeah, something like that. So then, what is there to do now?” I stopped looking him in the eyes for fear that my own might give something away. . . as unlikely as that was. I really was so tired though. I shouldn’t have asked to do anything more. In fact, I could feel my eyelids falling heavy.
I think that he said something like “Whatever you want to do” but I had fallen asleep the moment it left his lips.
Such a slumber didn’t last for very long. I woke just as I felt myself being laid on a soft mattress. Jounouchi’s bed no less. He didn’t climb in with me like I suspected, though. I did, however, hear a very quiet zipping noise across the room. It was Jounouchi going through my shit again! Luckily it was just my schoolbooks and whatnot. He had already found my secret bag. Apparently disappointed with his findings, or lack thereof, he zipped it back up and put it precisely how he had found it.
I decided that I ought to let him know I was awake. “Going through my things again?” He spun around in time to see me sitting up, using my arms to hold me there. “If you think you’re going to find anything interesting, you’re sadly mistaken. You’ve already found what I would have tried to hide from you.” My irritation was probably very evident.
“Sorry, I get too curious for my own good I guess.” He frowned, rubbing at the back of his head again. “Did I wake you up?”
“No, it was because of the light.” I lied again.
He seemed to daze about yet again and I tilted my head, “Do you think a lot?”
“Yeah. . . why?”
“You just seem kind of lost in your own head a lot of the time. . . of course, I guess that’s pretty easy to do with a head as empty as yours.” I smirked at my little comment and he laughed.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
I looked at his clock, “Still early.” My gaze returned to him and my bags, “Perhaps I ought to go ahead and take my medicine so that I don’t forget it. . . that certainly wouldn’t be very pretty.” I smiled half-heartedly.
“Yeah. . . I’ll probably go ahead and get my pajamas on.”
“You mean your school uniform?” I tilted his head again in mock innocense.
“Yeah, yeah, keep joking rich-boy.” He smiled yet again, even though I was teasing him.
“I suppose I’ll change too, then.” I stood, wandering over to my bags.
He leapt to his feet after a moment of gawking and went to his chest of drawers to retrieve pajamas. . . I headed for the bathroom to change in privacy.
I made sure to lock the door, as I didn’t want him to walk in on me or anything. I peeled my shirt away and reached around to feel my back. My memories were there on my skin, embodied as horrible scars from whip lashes. It was hideous, I knew, for I had looked at my back in the mirror often, usually after a hot shower. My whole body was ugly. The scars on my wrists and the scars on my back were just icing on the cake. I was ugly because of what I had allowed to happen to my body. . . what I had allowed those people to do to my body. Why?
I popped open the bottles and dumped out my required dosage of tablets, using the disgusting faucet water to wash down the vile things. This was my life. . . a mask and medication. That was me, forever. I was at the mercy of pills and society. . . and people called me so lucky.
I squirted a pea-sized amount of toothpaste onto my brush (just the amount that the tube says!) And popped it into my mouth, scrubbing at my pearly-whites.
There was a gentle knock at the door.
“What?” I replied, annoyed by his interruption of my thoughts, the toothbrush muffled my speech a bit.
“Why are you changing in the bathroom? You got tits or something?”
I shoved the door open at his taunting, my toothbrush still hanging out of my mouth. “Would it have pleased you if I had changed in front of you?” He grinned and it took me a second to realize just how that sounded, “Never mind, don’t answer that.” I retreated back into the bathroom to finish my task.
I spit the foamed paste into the sink, using one of his paper cups to rinse my mouth clean.
“Hey Seto?” He began in that childish manner of his.
“Kaiba.” I corrected.
“Hey Kaiba?”
“What.” A statement, not a question.
“What was that disorder you have again?”
I glared sharply at him. Who the hell did he think he was to bring that topic up again?, “Leave it alone, Jounouchi.” I gritted my teeth, trying to hold back my anger.
“I just couldn’t remember the name. . .” He wasn’t even about to let it go, was he? “Post Traumatic. . .”
I marched past him, already at my tolerance limit, “I say we go to bed early.”
As we entered his room, he grabbed me tightly on my right shoulder and roughly spun me around, getting as close to my face as I thought possible, “Yeah, of course you say that! You’re just too much of a coward to talk about your disorders! Not my fault you’re fucked in the head!”
Fucked in the head. . . yeah, yeah I was. . . and after this, he’d probably tell everyone. Kaiba Seto was fucked in the head. With good reason. . . it was all my fault. I fucked myself up. Without so much as a word to give him the satisfaction he wanted, I lay on his bed, covered myself up with the sheets, and faced the wall.
I could feel the weight shift as he sat next to me on the bed, “Se- Kaiba. . . I didn’t mean that. I really don’t think that you’re fucked up in the head. . . you know, I don’t think before I say things.” He paused for a moment as though he expected me to say something in reply, “Say something.” I only closed my eyes and he huffed, “Fine, be an ass.” He got up, apparently leaving the room for who-knows what reason. It wasn’t long until he returned. It sounded like he was dragging something, “Kaiba, get up, you’re sleeping on the floor.”
“Excuse me?” I sat up in a flash. Oh, so he had dragged some pillows and blankets in.
“You heard me. Floor. Now.” He pointed at the blankets. Oh, so was I supposed to be the dog now?
I studied him to see if this was supposed to be a joke too, “Fine.” I slid from the bed.
“No, wait.” He really couldn’t make up his mind.
“What now?”
There wasn’t any time to react. Jounouchi pushed me back onto the bed, “We can share my bed.” I struggled against him, but he held me with ease. . . I don’t remember him being so strong when last we met.
“Let me go, dammit!”
“Chill out! I’m not going to be weird, I promise.”
Again, I was stunned by more strange activity. He leaned over me, turning out the lamp, and then placed a kiss on my forehead. A kiss. On my forehead. From a guy. From a guy named Jounouchi Katsuya. A kiss. On my forehead. On my forehead. And yet. . .
“Goodnight, Seto-koi. . . don’t be afraid anymore. I’m here, and I’ll protect you from him. I promise, my love. I’ll never hurt you. Go to sleep, my precious blue-eyed doll. . .”
Saki. . . Even now, those words sooth me. The memories of that voice calm me and lull me to sleep every night. . . just as your betrayal kills me a little more each day. With such a gentle memory in my heart, I was able to finally go to sleep. . .
- - -
It was just like any other day. More men. There were always more. With Kaiba Corporations ridiculous popularity, there was always another deal to be sealed. . . and what better way to do it, or so my atrocious adoptive father believed, than to offer them a lovely teenage boy for the night.
Lovely? There is nothing lovely about a doll that has been broken and over-used. No one wants a broken doll that cannot be fixed. No one but sick men that want to see if it can be completely shattered.
Hands. Hands all over my body. Running up and down, up and down. Over and under. . . not a single bit of flesh left untouched. . . not a region of my mind not flooded by thoughts of what was next. I knew what would happen, I always knew. It was the same. Why did I bother fighting? I wanted some sort of dignity. . . If I kept fighting, it wouldn’t be my fault, but. . .
It was my fault. It was my fault for living, for beating Gozaburo in that chess match all those years ago.
The hands persisted, restraining my wrists, my body bare and exposed to their hungry eyes. They were naked from the waist down, not willing to fully strip in front of their toy. Powerful arms spread my legs wide, while men held them tightly in place. Like always, I was secured this way. . . spread eagle on a guest room bed with sweaty older men hovering around me like vultures swarming a fresh carcass.
That’s all I was really, a fresh piece of meat. ‘Beautiful’ they would say, ‘so absolutely gorgeous’, ‘so fuckable’. They always said the same things. Perverted older men, no older than my adoptive father, the one I was forced to call ‘master’ behind closed doors. The hands would rub at me, cocks forcing their way into me anywhere there was space. . . my mouth, sometimes two at a time, my hands, and, their favorite, my ass. ‘Such a tight little thing’ they would tell me as they penetrated me.
Pain. So much pain. Screams that fell on ears that didn’t care, or maybe just didn’t hear. I could cry, but that would result in only more pain in the end. Don’t cry. Don’t ever cry. Crying is for the weak. The weak die. Death. . . it really wasn’t such a scary thing. . . no, not really such a scary thing.
But I usually did cry, despite what I wanted to do. I would cry and my body would betray me, arching up to meet their rabid thrusts. No, I didn’t want that. . . but like those men, my body didn’t care. My body didn’t mind the blood that coated my inner thighs or the cum that I coughed up from the depths of my throat or the hands that rubbed and groped and fondled. . . no, I have such an ugly body. So ugly. . . slut. I’m a nasty slut. Always.
Suddenly, the men were gone. Only the Devil himself remained. The Devil. Kaiba Gozaburo. The whips stretched tightly in his hand. His brows were furrowed angrily. He was angry at me, of course. I cried again. . . I fought again. . . I called out for my mother again. I was only thirteen. I wanted my mother, my father, Mokuba. . . I wanted my friend from my old school.
The whip would come down with an unmistakable crack. I would whimper, the blood draining down my back was so easy to feel. A second whip. . . third, fourth fifth. . . before long I would cry, and call out again. I would plead, just as always.
He pinned my hands above my head, my wrists squeezed tightly in a single hand of his. How was he on top of me so suddenly? When had that happened? But I knew what would happen when he did this to me. . . the same thing that always happened, and I was helpless as always.
- - -
“Stop! No! No! Stop!” I could feel my body convulsing and someone was screaming. . . I was screaming. . . such an awful sound. He was going to rape me. . . again. I couldn’t do this anymore. Not anymore.
Someone was shaking me. Who was shaking me? Who was calling my name so desperately?
“Wake up! God dammit, Seto, wake up! You’re scaring the hell out of me! Please, Seto. . . god, please, wake up, don’t cry anymore! Seto, wake up!”
Wake up? Crying? Oh. . . a nightmare. . .
“Jounouchi?” I opened my eyes only to have my fears confirmed, “Jounouchi. . .”
“You scared the hell out of me!” He sounded angry, but he was crying, “Please, don’t do that anymore. . .” He collapsed onto me, wrapping his arms around my waist, with his face level with my own.
“Do what?” I wiped at my eyes, trying to play it off as nothing. Yeah, if I just made him look like the crazy one. . .
“You know damn well. . . Your disorder. . .”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. . . yes.” There was a feeling of mutual knowledge then. But one thing still puzzled me, “Why are you crying?”
“Because you worried me. . .” He pressed his face lightly against my left cheek.
“You’re strange. . . you hate me, yet you worry about me.”
“I don’t hate you!” He used his arms to lift himself.
“Yes you do, you despise me.” He hated me, I just knew he did.
“I don’t hate you, dammit! I l-” We locked eyes, and he never looked so frightened before.
“You what?” A word that begins with the letter ‘L’. It was a positive word. . . so that left ‘like’ and ‘love’. . . and I sure as hell hope it wasn’t meant to be the latter.
- - -