Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Darkness In My Heart ❯ Chapter 1

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: Don't own anything of YuGiOh. This is just a fun, obsessive hobby.

A/N: For the Spinner Story Challenge, in which I became inspired again after seeing the picture of them glaring at each other.

This is set after the Ancient Egypt arc, only Yami (Atemu) never went back after the ceremonial battle and instead received his own body to stay here with Yugi and his grandfather.

Many thanks goes to Moe for beta-ing and to Nenya and Miko for helping with the title. Sort of. <G>

'darkness in my heart'

He didn't know how it started. Hell, he didn't even know why it started, except it just had, and while Kaiba questioned his -- their -- absolute idiocy, he wasn't all quite willing to stop it either. This, he thought, was pure stupidity. He could excuse the first time, maybe even the second, but by the third and the fourth time, he had no more excuses to put forth other than the one excuse he'd swore he would never be.

Weak.

Unaccountably, stupidly weak.

Maybe he wasn't, a part of his mind still adamantly insisted. Was he being weak if he took it upon himself to answer the challenge Yami had deliberately put forth? Was he being weak if he was simply meeting Yami's low, dark words with lower, darker, angrier words himself?

Had he been weak when he first pushed Yami onto his desk, one hand pulling back his head to bare Yami's silky smooth neck, while the other pushed apart his legs, curling one lean thigh against his hip? And Yami hadn't really protested, had he?

No. Couldn't have had. Those eyes, staring straight at him with dark promises, had never so much as blinked, and Kaiba was sure that Yami had even leaned back a little, sprawling effortlessly on his desk as his shirt hitched up, revealing smooth, tanned skin -- just the barest glimpse, enough to tempt, to tease; to beckon. A slow caress, wet kisses, and skin --

-- no.

No.

He refused to think himself so weak as to submit himself to one of the most fatal flaws of men -- lust. Purely driven lust with a dark edge of possessive need; to take, to taste, to make Yami fall.

He took a deep breath and licked his lips, still tasting the hint of bitterness of himself in Yami's mouth. If this had been planned -- if Yami had somehow decided to --

-- but no. This wasn't like Yami. This wasn't like the honourable Pharaoh, with his all-too-wise eyes and the aura of a natural born charismatic leader, which made it all the more confusing.

Kaiba didn't understand. He thought he had at first, when he had taunted Yami into a duel at Yugi's grandfather's game shop. He had thought it was all under control -- taunt Yami and make him angry enough to duel him, and then win at said duel. Set an appropriate time and place at the mansion and make sure Yami didn't invite Yugi and company because Kaiba was sick of seeing the mutt, and while he didn't mind Yugi either way, he had never liked the understanding looks Yugi would send his way every time he lost. Easy. Simple. Or so Kaiba would have thought, but then Yami had arrived with a dark look in his eyes and an angry twist to his mouth.

Kaiba had been startled to realise how unfamiliar Yami had looked. This Yami hadn't been the image of who Kaiba held in his mind and as they settled into a duel with no less than five words altogether exchanged, Kaiba had realised that this Yami was in fact not the Yami of the old.

This Yami was more reckless, more ruthless. More angry.

More unpredictable.

This Yami made sure he taunted as much as Kaiba did, giving each word a sharp, cruel twist that had Kaiba snapping in anger, his temper almost tactile and nearly visible to the naked eye. This Yami made no illusions as to what he wanted; his mouth curled into a smooth smirk while his eyes lingered on Kaiba's body, hunger and some sort of desperate need flickering here and there. Kaiba had only a few seconds to wonder at that fleeting expression, all too unlike the Yami he'd known, but then Yami had spoken and Kaiba had found himself snapping in anger at even more careless words -- Yami had never before brought up the one thing Kaiba would not tolerate into their conversations, if one could call it that. Yami had never before until then, and Kaiba reacted in the only way he knew how.

He had moved instinctively, arm stretching and his body braced for forceful contact, and before he knew what he was doing, he had one hand pressing down and hard on Yami's neck and pushing him back onto his desk in an uncomfortable arch. Kaiba's lower body had automatically moved into a defensive and uncompromising position, his thighs and waist brushing Yami's in what could be mistaken as a lover's touch, except for the hard look of anger on Kaiba's face.

“You have no right,” he had hissed, pushing his hand down with more force and letting a curl of satisfaction in when he felt Yami struggle to breathe. Kaiba took pleasure in the tiny gasps for breath, the heavy pounding of Yami's heart -- so loud, Kaiba can almost feel it -- and the fury Kaiba knew was pouring off Yami, almost like a reflection of his earlier rage.

For a moment Yami had actually looked regretful, maybe even ashamed, but it had dissipated just as quickly as it had come, and Yami had stared back at him defiantly. He'd looked as if he was daring Kaiba to grip harder, to force him into a slow, torturous, and very much willing suffocation -- but Kaiba had to be mistaken. The King of Games, the Pharaoh, with a death wish?

Impossible.

And yet, Kaiba couldn't entirely will away the idea.

How else could he explain what had happened then? Kaiba was no fool and he had never let delusions control his mind. He could say that it was a long time coming; he could even believe it to a certain extent; but what ever that was, it was not brought on by pure lust or, even more laughably, by emotions other than hate.

Yami had looked as if he didn't care, and that, more than anything, had enraged him. How could he not care? Kaiba had never liked to be ignored, and to be ignored by Yami of all people -- as if he was nothing, not worthy, not enough, too weak --

Kaiba had never been, nor was he now, nothing.

So he'd taken one angry look down at Yami's expressionless face, snarled, and pushed down harder at Yami's throat. Yami had gasped out wordlessly, voice stolen by the pressure bearing down on him, and snarled back, hands shoving at Kaiba's chest. He'd pushed at Kaiba's chest ineffectively for a few seconds before reaching for and taking hold of his vulnerable-looking neck. He had tightened his grip, and Kaiba had then stopped, both at a stalemate and unwilling to compromise. Just add a little more force, a little more pressure, and both of them would be suffocating each other; Kaiba had thought it was an almost appropriate end to their beginning, but he knew how useless dying really was, so he had growled out, "You."

And Yami had narrowed his exotic red eyes, hands still gripping Kaiba's neck in a hold that left no questions as to their intent, before he had said, only just slightly panting, “What?”

Then, Yami had laughed. “As if you can't tell. It looks like we're finally going to kill each other, wouldn't you say?” Yami had smiled grimly. “Not that it's any of a surprise. You wanted to kill me before.”

Kaiba had frowned. “That was before. I don't really want to kill you now, regardless of what your friends,” Kaiba sneered, “might say, and I don't see how it's any kind of explanation for what you're trying to do.”

His grip had then tightened. “For what you just said.”

“Maybe I don't want to give an explanation. Maybe I'm tired of all -- of all this crap -- ” Yami had said, the volume of his voice gradually rising. “Maybe I don't belong here, in this world. And maybe, just maybe, I don't give a damn.”

Yami had looked up at him then with reproachful eyes, almost daring Kaiba to argue, to fight -- to hurt him, giving him a physical manifestation for the pain he was experiencing on the inside. And what pain it was. Kaiba could see himself in those eyes; young, foolishly naive, yet so hopeful too... but this was Yami, not him; this pain was fresh, not old. And this was very new in someone who could have been many times his elder.

“Say what you want about me, but leave Mokuba out of it,” Kaiba had finally said evenly after looking searchingly at Yami for several seconds. He hadn't been able to figure out what Yami had been doing, had been feeling. He hadn't even recognised that version of him, so destructively angry, Kaiba didn't even know what to do with him.

In the end, he didn't do anything. Yami had pulled himself up using Kaiba's neck for leverage while pulling Kaiba down simultaneously, and before he knew it, Yami was kissing him savagely, drowning himself in pleasure as if he hadn't known anything else. As if this was the only reason he was holding on; something that wasn't even real.
Weak. He was undeniably weak.

That had been the first, but it hadn't been the last. Kaiba hadn't stopped it there; he hadn't even wanted to.

The whispering echoes of weak sounded in his mind, but he quickly banished them again. He hadn't stopped it, but at least he wasn't the one to start it.

No, that was Yami, who didn't seem to care when or where they met up as long as they did. Who walked into his office, his study, and his bedroom, casual as he pleased, as if he needed no invitation that hadn't already been given. At times Yami had been angry, bitter, and resentful. More often than not though, Yami had seemed more at a loss and lonely, like a ghost wandering through time, gazing at his surroundings with sorrow and bewilderment, and yet, would keep wandering because he didn't know how to get back home.

Kaiba could almost understand. The only anchor he had to this world was Mokuba; without him, Kaiba would one of a million lost souls, wandering through his days in greys and blacks, mind focused on his narrow paths and heart empty and bare, stark like a garden ravaged by the bitter winter, leaving only frost and barren, cold earth.

He could almost understand, yes.

Perhaps that was the reason he hadn't stopped Yami -- didn't even want to stop Yami. Perhaps. Most likely, he thought, it was because he couldn't quite figure out this new Yami. The old version had been foreign in ways Kaiba didn't want to know, but there was also a hint of familiarity there, as if Kaiba would only reach -- reach inside -- and he would see Yami, just as he was here now -- but Kaiba never reached and Yami never spoke of it, and here they were now, both stuck in a situation neither would have expected.

The second time had been in his office. Yami had entered with long, smooth strides and dark-red eyes. His expression had been blank and his body language had looked casual, until Kaiba had noticed the clenched, white-knuckled fists and the poise of his body -- defiant, angry, but bruised too, in a way time couldn't quite heal.

Kaiba remembered narrowing his eyes in suspicion, but keeping a wary silence because of the way it had ended last time. He remembered wondering if this time would end like last time, and became angry when he realised he almost wanted it to.

Yami hadn't given him a chance for his anger to boil -- he'd walked right behind his desk and kissed him, hard. Then, Yami had straddled him, pulling at his suit as he did so, and unbuttoned everything hastily before slipping a hand down his pants. Kaiba had groaned and slipped his hands under smooth cotton and splayed his hands on Yami's back, stroking as silky skin rippled at his touch.

The second time, Kaiba remembered, had been a hard ride with neither caring about anything other than pleasure and to sate themselves on it. The third time though... the third time had been slow. And more intimate than Kaiba had wanted to acknowledge.

It had been the first time Kaiba had encountered the sad, lost version of Yami -- he remembered how it had surprised him when Yami had strode in with none of his usual flair or confidence; instead, he had walked in carefully, with a bruised look on his face and arms curled defensively around his body. He hadn't spoken a word before he'd pulled Kaiba's head down and kissed him sweetly, desperately, and almost wildly, like a feral cat trying to see how far it could go before it was banished again.

And Kaiba remembered how easily those kisses had disarmed him, how Yami's need had somehow become his own, and what ever Yami had needed, what ever Yami had wanted, Kaiba had wanted to give it to him.

Anything.

It made Kaiba's heart pound to think of the control Yami could have over him. It made him sweat, wondering, thinking of what Yami could do with such knowledge of his weakness -- but Yami had made no mention of it the time after time again, when they had both exhausted themselves and had lay quietly side by side, listening to each other breathe. Yami hadn't asked for anything; anything other than Kaiba's presence and company, and that was a silent request, an unspoken plea at best.

And this only made it more confusing, more baffling.

What did it mean?

What did Yami want?

What happened?

The last question was probably the most important, but Kaiba had never asked. He couldn't decide if it was because he didn't want to ask, or if it was because he didn't want the answer, but what he wanted never counted for much. It was what he needed to do that counted for everything.

Kaiba watched as Yami walked into his bedroom, weary around the eyes and with a dark twist to his mouth. He watched as Yami sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the grey backdrop of Kaiba's wall.

“You're angry,” he said slowly, as if he was trying to see how the words fit in his mouth.

Yami stiffened, but relaxed a few seconds later. “I'm always angry,” he retorted calmly, leaning back casually.

“No, that would be me,” Kaiba said quietly and then tilted his head to the side. “You, on the other hand have the occasional fits of righteous fury.” He paused before looking at straight at Yami. “What changed?”

Kaiba absorbed the sharp glance Yami had thrown his way and stared back evenly. He refused to back down.

“What changed?” Yami finally said, turning his face away. “What changed...”

He looked at Kaiba and said, “Do you want a list? Because every thing's changed. My home... my home isn't here. My family, my friends, all gone except for a couple of reflections who don't remember,” his mouth twisted briefly in mockery before saying, “and my life?”

He looked down. “What life? I don't belong here. I was never meant to stay -- but I couldn't leave. I couldn't. Now, I'm stuck. Alone. I don't belong, Kaiba. The only familiar thing is duelling and even that -- even that doesn't feel right anymore.”

Suddenly, Yami leaned back into the wall again with a hard thud, torn between anger and sorrow. “You ever think back and wonder if you could do something differently?”

Kaiba raised an eyebrow, and Yami snorted, amused.

“Of course, I forget whom I'm talking to,” he said, before his mirth faded and his expression turned wistful. “I shouldn't, I know what I did back then was right, was for the good of my people -- no, it was the right choice, the only choice; I know this -- but sometimes, I'm selfish. I'm selfish and a bad leader, and -- and -- I can't seem to make myself stop thinking about this.”

He took a deep breath and then exhaled, before he said, defeated, “I can't seem to fix myself, no matter what I do. I can't stop feeling like this, and it gnaws at me, making me so angry that sometimes... sometimes I just want everyone to know. I don't care who, as long as they know, as long as they can see me.” Yami stopped, and then said more angrily, “Is that what you wanted to hear, Kaiba? Did it make you feel better? You feel like you finally won?”

Kaiba, who had stilled at the very first word, now stirred. He pushed himself off his study chair and walked towards Yami, until they were but a couple of inches apart.

He glared down at Yami and said sharply, “No, I don't feel like I've won.”

Yami glared back. “Then you should!”

“Because you're fucked up? News flash for you, Yami, but everyone's a little fucked up -- it just means you're human.” Kaiba stood closer. “Yeah, just human. We're all just human -- even if we're more fucked up than most. Does that disappoint you? That you get pissed off, you get angry, that you want to be selfish and have the world the way you want it to be, regardless of anyone else. Does that disappoint you?”

Yami clenched and unclenched his fist, as dark red eyes flashed angrily. Then, he said, almost haltingly, “No... no... I -- ”

Kaiba watched the struggle on Yami's face for a moment, before he said, “It's all right, you know. Being angry. Wanting things you probably can't have.”

“And how do you... stop being angry, stop wanting things that won't ever happen?” Yami said softly, looking at him like he had all the answers.

Except Kaiba didn't, though he wished he did. “I don't know. I still do, but not as much. You were actually the first step -- you told me the past shapes us, molds us to what we are. We can't change it. The only thing we can do is make use of it.”

He raised a hesitant hand and slowly traced Yami's cheek. “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

“Maybe I should,” Yami said. “Though I usually don't do that very well. It feels different, having my own body again. I forget how hard it is, how intense everything is.” He closed his eyes, leaning into the soft touch. “The glimpses and moments I got from Yugi... it's only a pale reflection.”

Kaiba leaned down, hand now curled around Yami's neck and fingers stroking at smooth skin; he whispered, “Like I am?”

“No, you're more like a mirror image that's been inverted and rotated,” Yami whispered back, as he slid his hands around Kaiba's waist and gently brushed his mouth against Kaiba's neck.

“That's...good to know,” Kaiba murmured, sighing as Yami kissed and nipped at his throat. He stroked that tender line of skin between Yami's neck and shoulders before sliding his fingertips down the smooth ridges of Yami's back.

There was pleasure, there would be pain, but Kaiba, at that moment, didn't care.

Let it burn and fade, let the pleasure and pain ebb and flow.

Kaiba had Yami for now. That was enough.