Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Newton's Third ❯ The Cemetery ( Chapter 10 )

NEWTON'S THIRD by Kiraya

Yet Another Disclaimer: The poetry quoted in this chapter is from "The Hollow Men" by T.S. Eliot. I do not own "The Hollow Men," however much I might like to.

~*~*~

Night passed, and morning followed: Saturday.

It was snowing. Again. Soft, powdery snow that got all over the place and clung to your hair and lashes and-

Damn, Seto Kaiba thought irritably, glaring at the sky as he climbed into his limo. Snow always made him depressed. There was probably some deep and meaningful psychological reason behind this, but he really didn't care what it was.

The ride was short, and it wasn't long before he entered the game shop.

"Good morning, Kaiba," Yugi's grandfather said coolly. He had gotten used to seeing the young billionaire around, but he remained aloof for reasons unknown.

"Good morning, Mutou-san," he replied politely, just as he always did; and, just as he always did, the old man grunted in reply, turning back to his customer.

Yugi was sprawled on the couch in his pajamas with a mug of cocoa in hand, watching TV, when Seto entered. "Good morning, Kaiba," he said, his tone a great deal friendlier than his grandfather's had been. He got up, placing his mug on the coffee table. "I'll go get Yami," he added before the visitor had a chance to open his mouth. With a slight smirk, he started up the stairs.

...?

"Put on your robe before you freeze, Yugi," came a stern remonstrance as the King of Games descended. "It's not warm enough to be running around the house like that."

"Yes, Dad." The smaller boy grinned, pushing past his lookalike and continuing his ascent.

Seto smiled nervously at his friend. "Hey."

"Good morning."

A long pause.

"So... you ready?"

"Yeah. Just lemme get my jacket."

<Have fun on your date, Yami,> came an impish voice in his mind.

He muttered something inappropriate under his breath as they walked out to the limo.

"What?"

"...Nothing. It was just Yugi."

"Oh."

Silence as they looked out the tinted windows at the passing scenery.

"...So where are we going, anyway?"

"You'll see."

~*~*~

The limo pulled up outside a very nice restaurant.

"I've been here before for business luncheons with some American associates of mine. The food's really good, and they rave about the `homestyle breakfasts' served here. I thought it might be interesting to try it."

"...Am I underdressed?" Yami wondered, frowning.

Never... and even if you were, you still don't look it. The way you- Seto mentally slapped himself. "No," he said aloud. "It's not as fancy as it looks. Let's go."

They were seated in a corner booth, where they kept casting nervous glances across the table at each other. Despite their resolution, neither spoke much, and it seemed that every time one managed to get up the courage and was about to say something important, the waitress showed up to refill their coffee cups, or ask them if they were enjoying their meal, or such.

Seto stared out the window. "The snow's stopped," he observed.

"Mmm."

An awkward silence. The morning seemed to be filled with them.

"...Seto?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to eat that?" Yami asked, pointing with his fork at one of his companion's hash browns.

All in all, it was an inconclusive forty-five minutes.

~*~*~

They stopped at the florist next.

"I'm here to pick up my order."

"Yes. Seto Kaiba? One dozen primroses?"

A nod.

Yami's thoughts drifted aimlessly as he looked absently around the shop. Primroses... He got them for the funeral, and for every visit to the grave we've made since... Yugi's grandfather has a book about the meanings of flowers. I looked at it, once. It was actually pretty interesting. What did primroses signify? "I can't live without you," I think... He sighed. Poor Seto...

The brown-haired youth raised a hand as if to place it on his companion's shoulder, but let it fall.

~*~*~

The cemetery looked even more gloomy than usual, somehow. The limo stopped on its owner's orders just outside.

"Meet us here in about fifteen minutes. We'll walk the rest of the way."

"Yes, sir."

They walked in silence past bare-limbed trees and worn tombstones relatively unchanged by the new-fallen snow.

Suddenly, Yami's feet flew out from under him. He let out a surprised yell and resigned himself to bone-bruising contact with the cold, hard ground - only to find his descent checked by his companion's arms.

Startled, the two simply stared at each other for a long while. A peculiar expression flickered across Seto's face, almost instantly replaced by a faint blush that was shared by his shorter friend.

Yami's hand brushed against something lying on the ground. "You dropped your flowers," he said quietly.

"...Oh."

Yami righted himself, straightening his jacket as his companion picked up his offering. They kept walking without comment.

It wasn't long before they reached the grave. Seto gently brushed the snow off the tombstone before taking the primroses and letting them fall, one by one, to the ground in front of it, just as he always did.

He held the last one for a long time, staring at it as he turned it this way and that. Suddenly, he thrust it at Yami. "Here," he said roughly.

The King of Games blinked. Taking the little white blossom, he started to drop it with the rest-

"No." Seto sounded exasperated. Rising to his feet, he reached out and closed the other's fingers around the stem. "Keep it," he said softly.

Yami stared at him. "I... Seto?"

The brown-haired youth was gazing off into the distance. "Is it like this," he quoted, more to himself than the pharaoh, "in death's other kingdom..." He turned, a corner of his mouth rising with a sad little quirk.

Yami smiled back reassuringly. Without thinking, he continued with the poem's next line. "Waking alone..."

Another contest for the King of Games, hmm...? Gazing fondly at the shorter youth, Seto recited the part that followed. "At the hour when we are..."

"Trembling with tenderness-" Looking into his companion's rich blue eyes, Yami faltered, struck by a compelling emotion he had never noticed before contained therein. Sweet mother Hathor, I... he...?

He swallowed, continued hoarsely. "Lips that... that would..." His voice faded into a whisper.

I win. Seto smiled crookedly, tenderly stroking the spiky-haired pharaoh's cheek. "Lips that would kiss..."

The young billionaire stood so close, the warmth of his body almost tangible, his smell - the clean fragrance of whatever soap he used, mixed with the ever-present hint of his cologne and underlaid by that slightly musky scent that was uniquely Seto Kaiba - intoxicating, his face mere centimeters away. Dizzily wondering at his heightened senses, Yami closed his eyes to escape the intensity of the other's gaze, but the afterimage remained strong in his mind. It would be so sweet, so very good, to lean forward and savor the exquisite taste of that soft mouth again...

With a choked gasp, the King of Games buried his face in his companion's chest, shaking with the effort of suppressing his feelings.

You saw the way he looked at you, the voice in his mind whispered. Do you really need to keep holding back?

The way he looked at me... It was thrilling and yet, at the same time, somehow terrifying. His fingers clenched around handfuls of Seto's jacket, nearly crushing the flower he still held. I...

The taller youth sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping as a tension he had scarcely noticed within him sharply lessened. He instinctively wrapped his arms around the trembling pharaoh and held him close. "Yami... are you okay?"

"Seto," he cried in anguish, his voice muffled by the fabric of the CEO's coat, "please... I... We have to talk." The shorter youth drew back to look at him seriously. His dark eyes were feverishly bright, and his face was flushed, though not from the cold. "Now."

A pause.

"Yes," the brown-haired youth agreed, suddenly uneasy for some reason. "But first we must get somewhere out of this cold." With a final glance at his brother's grave, he turned and started back toward the waiting limo.

Yami sighed in apprehension and followed, toying absently with the stem of his primrose.

~*~*~

To be continued.