Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Not This Time ❯ Day One ( Chapter 9 )

Chapter Nine – Day One Yami’s POV   Seto seemed to be fine with our arrangement earlier in the day, but now that night is approaching, he seems anxious. Perhaps he is uncertain about our arrangement, now, after he’s had time to think about it? I hope he doesn’t reconsider.   Mokuba showed me around the house, which took most of the day. He reminds me of Yugi in some ways, though not quite as innocent, strange as it may sound for a sixteen-year-old to be more so than an eleven-year-old boy. Seto said that he had to work, and I admit that he does have a company to run, but I think he’s just uncomfortable about the idea of being around me with Mokuba there. I can understand that – I would feel strange being with him with Yugi anywhere nearby. And I think I would never find my way around if he had been with me, though actually it’s still somewhat doubtful. The place is huge, even bigger than it looks from the outside. There are three floors and a basement, and some of the more outstanding features were the swimming pool and the library, not to mention the huge arena-sized room that he has devoted to games of all kinds, but I sincerely doubt I could so much as find my way to the kitchen to get a bite to eat without another guided tour. Sometimes, too much money is not necessarily a good thing… says the ex-Pharaoh who actually never quite mastered getting around his own palace.   Last stop on the tour were Seto’s bedroom – also fairly large, but not as huge as any of the rest of the house seemed to be. I guess he does have at least a little moderation – I had expected statues of Blue Eyes, maybe, or vaulted ceilings, or at least a huge TV – but there’s none of that. In fact, he has no TV in his room at all, and while most of the accents are blue, the walls are plain and white, and above all bare. In fact, I thought with a personality like Seto’s, there’d be much more to it. He does seem a little overbearing… but it’s just… bare. Spartan, I suppose, is the word for it. Just a large bed with a blue cover, a desk (metal and glass – very po-mo, Seto) with a computer and other technological paraphernalia that I’m not qualified to analyze, bureau and closet… no mirror, though, on the aforementioned bureau. The lighting is just plain white overhead lights. Opening his bedroom door is like stepping into a whole other facet of his personality that I never knew existed.   He has a bathroom attached, as plain as the bedroom, and there’s one other set of doors, French doors hung over with sheer white curtains. They lead out onto the balcony, which affords a pretty grand view of brief manicured lawns and much more extensive woods – looks like just wilderness. Mokuba told me that Seto owns all of it, everything the eye can see from here. I have to wonder what possible use high-tech Seto has for a forest.   And after his bedroom, Mokuba showed me to Seto’s home office. He just left me there at the door, telling me that Seto would be inside and running off with a conspiratorial little wink. I wondered at that briefly, but went inside.   The room was actually larger than his bedroom, and much… fancier, I suppose Joey would say. Nice lighting, wood-paneled walls, plush carpet, stylish furniture – it looked like what you would expect from Seto Kaiba, despite the absence of blue and proliferation of a rather ugly green color. Seto was there, as Mokuba had said he would be, sitting at his desk and staring at the computer, his fingers flying over the keys. He hadn’t yet noticed me, and so I walked up behind him and put my arms around him. That was only a few minutes ago.   To my surprise, he flinched and knocked me to the floor with a fist, then immediately knelt beside me, apologizing profusely. At least I’ve got him calmed down now, though, and he can let me hold him. “I’m sorry,” he mutters again. I just kiss the top of his head and hold him more tightly.   “I should have known not to surprise you,” I assure him. “It’s not your fault. I’m not hurt, anyway.”   He still berates himself on the inside, I can tell, but he says no more about it. I can’t help but wonder why his reflex is automatically to flinch, as from a blow, and strike out. I wonder what this life has been like for him. There are certain constants in our lives; his blue eyes, my promises, our love. Also things I’ve noticed about him. There is always either an insane or just plain cruel father-figure. He always has scars he can’t explain to me. He’s usually of a lower station than myself, a servant or priest or law-breaker. Not this life, however. In fact, I wasn’t even properly reborn in this life. And, as long as I’m making a list of differences, there’s Mokuba and Yugi. So far as I know, there has never been a Mokuba or a Yugi before, and it’s only through them that our lives now are complete and continuing, for I nearly killed Seto and have only Yugi to thank for his life. I wonder what there is about Seto that I should know.   He sighs, apparently just content to live with whatever guilt he’s feeling, and leans forward to type more. His shoulders are rather tense, not relaxed like they were in his office at KaibaCorp, and I just sit on the couch nearby. “What’s wrong, Seto?”   He glances at me. “There’s nothing wrong. Why should there be?”   “You’re tense.”   “I’m always tense.”   Well, that much appears to be true, at any rate. He’s always so controlling of every facet of himself and his life, it’s really no wonder he can’t relax. But then he ruins the truth I was beginning to think he might be telling by glancing uneasily out the window. It’s beginning to get dark, but he’s no little kid, and I have to wonder what’s making him so uneasy.   “What’s wrong, Seto? I already told you that you can’t hide anything from me.”   “It’s nothing.” He doesn’t even glance at me, just keeps typing. I haven’t even begun to get the hang of those infernal modern ‘conveniences’, but he seems to be their master in every way. Odd, how some people adapt, and some don’t. “It’s almost dinnertime.”   I blink at the rapid subject change. He obviously doesn’t want to tell me what’s wrong with him, and I decide not to press it. It’s not as though he’s in the habit of opening up to people, after all; I’ll have to ease him into it.   Before much longer, Mokuba comes up to tell us that diner is done. I start to move away, but Seto doesn’t budge; doesn’t, in fact, appear to have heard. I touch his shoulder lightly and say his name.   “Go on,” he says distractedly. “I’ll be down later.”   After a moment’s inspection of him, I acquiesce and move to the doorway. Mokuba shakes his head as we pass through, but I can’t get a word out of him, which is strange, because he seemed so talkative before.   The food is good, of course, but a half hour and no sign of Seto. Mokuba catches my glance toward the door and shakes his head again.   “He won’t come,” he said. “He always says he’ll be down later, but he never comes down at all. I guess he must eat later, maybe after I’m in bed or something, but I usually don’t ever see him with food. I thought maybe you’d be a good influence on him, but…” He shrugs and returns his attention to the plate before him, with a sad glance at the doorway I keep expecting to see Seto come through. “They never even bother with a place for him anymore.” It’s true, I notice; there’s no empty setting at the table for Seto. I frown slightly. That can’t be good for him…   “I’ll talk to him,” I assure the boy. He looks at me, looking hopeful but ready for failure. I guess he’s tried talking to him too. Of course, what possible good can it do to talk to Seto? I should know better than that. I amend that in my mind; I’ll make him eat. I’ll try talking first, but after that doesn’t work, I’ll be more drastic.   And Seto, of course, hasn’t appeared by the end of the meal. I say nothing about it and go up to find Seto in his office again. He's still at that computer, still typing. I wonder if he ever blinks.   Instead of surprising him this time, I say his name as I walk toward him. He glances at me, apparently somewhat surprised. “I thought you were eating.”   “I’m done. It’s been forty-five minutes.”   “Oh.” Hardly the reaction I was hoping for, but not really unexpected. I go around his desk to wrap my arms around his shoulders again, finding them at least as tense as ever.   “You need to eat, Seto,” I tell him, then kiss his neck lightly. Strangely enough, he flinches away from that contact, though he says nothing about it.   “I do.” I give him a look that says very plainly that I disbelieve him. “Sometimes,” he amends. “I do eat, but not often, I suppose…”   “Tomorrow, you’re eating with me.”   He just shrugs in passive acquiescence. I expected him to fight it, to disagree or something… I have to wonder why he didn’t.   Then he glances out the window behind him again, and shudders slightly. “Would you mind… Never mind, I’ll do it.” Then he gets up and closes the curtains, blocking out the night outside. What exactly was that about?   He sits there typing on his laptop for a while as I watch him, but before too much time has passed he sighs and looks at me.   “What?”   “Do you mind?” he asks rather plainly. “I doubt very much that my work is so very interesting… and I also doubt very much that I need an audience while I do it.”   “Then stop working,” I tell him. “You’ve been in here all day – I think you need a break.”   “I respectfully disagree.”   “Since when have you ever done anything respectfully?” He opens his mouth to reply, but I stand up and put my hands on his shoulders from behind and he shuts it again. He’s still just as tense – maybe more so – as he was earlier. “Come on, close that. It will still be there tomorrow.”   And to my surprise, Seto does as he was told. He seems to be just full of surprises tonight – and I say tonight because I barely saw him during the day. He closes his work and shuts the computer, and looks up at me with a question, which I answer with a smile. “Good,” I tell him. “Now come over here with me.” I move back to the couch on which I was sitting earlier, leaning in the corner between the back and the arm, and he does come to me. I pull him down so that he’s leaning back against me and wrap my arms around him, as he leans his head on my shoulder. He’s still tense, but it’s already not as bad. I don’t think, somehow, that it has anything to do with me… he’s just worrying about something.   “What’s wrong?” I ask him. He shakes his head and closes his eyes, and I decide not to press it. He seems better now, not having told me, so I let him have his secrets. It can’t be that bad.   I wrap me arms still more tightly around him, loving the feeling of his body next to mine, and he raises his hands to hang from my arms. Unless I am very much mistaken, he likes the feeling just as much. It’s been so long since I felt this good… “See, isn’t this better than working?” I ask, and kiss him before he can answer. I think it’s fairly apparent, as he turns in my arms to kiss me better.