Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Persuasion ❯ Every ( Chapter 2 )

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

Aria: Hello again! And thanks for the review! I hope some more of you come around, but I'm glad you like it so far. Since this isn't a silly fic, I won't be opening with silly jokes, but I DO still need a disclaimer. So here it is...once again, I don't, and won't, own YGO. Or Jane Austen, or any of her property, except for the books that I cherish. Also, I know that the time continuity is a little screwy, but go with it. To help you out, until I can figure out how to keep the italics, everything after ~~~ is a memory, and everything after *** is the present. So here we go...part two of Persuasion.

~ ~ ~ Kaiba: Memory ~

There's a feeling you get, when you shift and realize your leg has been asleep, because the pricking coolness of blood rushes through your veins, and it's like you've never felt your leg before, because now you can feel every vein, every pulse of blood and its path.

That is how I feel now, as my hand touches yours.

I don't know what to do, what to think, so I don't. I pull on you, and you almost lose your balance but you steady enough that I can stand up.

Except then, I almost fall over again, almost trip without even moving because your eyes right now are the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced.

You let go of my hand, and self-consciously wipe it down the side of your shirt, looking away. We're not fighting, not yelling, not taunting. This silence is freezing me solid; my ribcage is suddenly too small.

I wonder, vaguely, when I started loving you, when the burn stopped being stubborn hate and started being this flaring heat that is trying to move in me. Does it matter when? It doesn't matter how when wherewhy---it only is.

We haven't spoken yet, and this unusual quiet is unnerving you, unnerving me. But I won't break. I can't make this move, Pup. It doesn't work that way, I don't work that way, the world can't work that way. I am watching you almost---please---longingly now, and you step back, run long fingers through thick shaggy-smooth hair. You're about to speak.

I can't let you say anything, if you say something, this will end and we will part and I will shake this off and never think of it except for deep dark nights---mornings---when I can't sleep and flashes of cold shiver through my blood.

But I don't know how to stop you. I have to.

I can't.

* * * Joey: Present *

Yesterday, you had me convinced. I had me convinced. Today, a second, a minute, an eternity ago I thought I saw through it, but now I'm not so sure. You came back. You are charming my friends. You are charming my sister.

You still care for me.

In the hallway, at school, I am at my locker and I find you waiting. You startle from your place, leaning coolly against the smooth metal, and shake a lock of deep brown silky hair out of your suddenly---panicked---embarrassed eyes. I understand. You thought you were waiting for Serenity, you saw her here before, and after that first glance---hello---our eyes slide from each other and we both pretend we are somewhere else. You move away, stare into a distance only you can see.

I used to see it.

It used to be me.

My shirt is suddenly too tight, my shoulders not strong enough to support the weight of my arms---silly, since I used to be able to wrestle you to the floor, used to take pride in the elastic strength of my muscles---but it doesn't matter. I'm used to you here, now, and that is my moment until my knee suddenly hits the cold---harder than it looks---metal with surprising force.

It'll hurt later but now I'm too surprised. I want to turn, glare, slam this new threat into the metal that is still vibrating from the contact with my bone, but as I begin to move, the pressure on my back is suddenly gone, and I turn to see the material of your coat flatten against your back as you take the punk by the back of the shirt and walk him down the hall.

I understand, I see, even if---though---you don't. You hate me---worse, ignore me, but you've noticed my discomfort, acted. Probably without realizing it.

I remember how I hated the role you chose of bodyguard. I couldn't stand the thought of your smooth pale body being beaten in my place---we wrestled, fought. You were as strong as me, stronger, sometimes.

You asked me what kind of master would let his puppy be beaten, would let his puppy be hurt. What kind of master wouldn't protect.

I smile. I know that you don't know what just happened---but it's beginning to come back.

I remember.

* * * Kaiba: Present *

Sitting alone in my house doesn't mean the same, now, as it used to. It is still as empty as ever, even with little brother off to school doesn't change it that much. I was often alone here, but it was never so lonely as it is now.

I hate to admit it, but I need someone to fill this place, echo laughter off these polished wood panels, walk on these rich, thick carpets. The hum of my computer isn't enough for me anymore, and I can't stand that it's because of you.

Because when you were here, the emptiness was suddenly used, filled, needed for all your life and passions and flaring presence. Coming back to this feels unimaginably, horribly wrong---if you've never noticed something isn't there, you don't need it.

But now I've seen this emptiness.

And I need something to fill it, because I can't do it by myself anymore.

I think of your sister, how her thick red hair shifts forward in sliding layers until she pushes it back with a long fingered hand, how her eyes are so calm and clear, like a pool that has many-colored pebbles softly lining the bottom. Not like your eyes---they are like autumn, like gold light glinting off of rusted leaves, like honey, like wheat.

But I won't think of you. And even when I do---because I'm thinking of your sister and she reminds me of you, sometimes---I wait to feel that shiver of heat in my chest, and when it doesn't come, I am satisfied, and think of your sister's voice, so sweet and soft, so unlike your loud bravado, the grinning laughing tone of your voice.

And now when the shiver comes I smile.

Serenity is affecting me more than I thought.

I must be falling in love.

~ ~ ~ Joey: Memory ~

There's something incurably awkward about the way we are standing here---maybe it's because we aren't fighting like we usually are, and you aren't looking at me the way you usually do, the way I'm used to. Your eyes, instead of being so cold and distant, are glowing---asking---your face, normally so guarded, is beginning to open, and I'm suddenly terrified.

Like this afternoon, you are changing right in front of me, and I'm starting to realize that there is something else to you---us---than these fights, these insults.

I want to say something, but I don't know what. I don't want to tell you that while you were at my front door, I was at yours---don't want to tell you that tonight I will be alone in an empty and broken house and that suddenly the thing I want most is to go back with you, stay with you in your massive empty mansion, because we could sure both use some company tonight.

I'm watching you, and I can't believe it but is that---panic I see in your eyes? What are you scared of, Kaiba? There is real terror in your face---I can almost hear your heart thudding from here.

But your eyes leave mine before I can ask---I am relieved without warning, grateful that you didn't make me point out your sudden weakness. And now you look back at me, daring me to speak, daring me to be the one who breaks this silence. I'm confident. This is familiar ground, this test of wills and I stare back until I notice that your hand is moving, you are delicately removing a strand of hair that has fallen onto my shoulder, and holding it carefully between two long fingers you bring it slowly away from where it clings to the thin fabric of my shirt. You look at it, and I look at you, and I can't help it, I fall towards you---or that's what it feels like, anyway, falling even though I guess technically I haven't moved---so I have to reach forward to balance myself, make sure I don't hit you and send us both tumbling to the ground, but my hands hit your shoulders with more force than I thought and I have to pull you so that you don't fall again and now you are only a few centimeters away---we've been this close once, during a particularly violent fight where you turned---faster than I expected---and slammed me into a wall, pushed your face up close to mine and whispered taunts in that rough voice of yours but somehow---somehow this is closer. Too close, I'm still falling forward and you---too surprised by my movement to step back---you are pulled irrevocably toward me by---what's that law of physics?

I have time to see the grateful look in your eyes before we finally meet and I'm clinging to you, still fighting this feeling of falling, but your arms are there, steadying me, your hands are there, flat against my back, warm. I wish I knew what is happening, but I don't even have time to wonder how, if I was never really falling at all, I am standing here pressed against you, or why, if I was never moving, I pulled you to me because I make a decision and bend my head before I really know what's going on---your breath is sweet, warm---I can't lose you. I won't.

I bend.

This kiss surprises me---the movements of your mouth surprise me, thrill me. I would never have guessed that your lips would be soft, that you would lean into me like you're doing now, that beneath that wildly flapping coat you wear your heart thuds as quickly and as hard as mine when someone runs a hand up your back, over the skin of your neck and into your hair.

There's something undeniably weird about standing here, clinging to you, and having you cling to me, like you really need---want---me, after all the fights we've had, all the seconds minutes eternities spent hating you---at the last second, I've discovered something new and different, surprising and achingly, gloriously, truly sweet.

I love you.

* * * Joey: Present *

Mondays are never fun, but I hurt for you today---you never saw this coming. Or maybe you did, and you just didn't pay attention.

That's something you would do, I think. If the world isn't working the way you want it too, you just ignore it until you can figure out how to change things in your favor. I smile.

I'm starting to remember---mainly because this exasperated look on your face is so familiar, and it almost hurts that someone else meant enough to you to put it there, but I smirk in your direction and thump Tristan on the shoulder. He's too happy to feel it---standing there grinning like an idiot because Tea said she'd go out with him. They're almost insufferably cute, but I deal with it.

It's worth it to see the annoyed surprise on your face. I know that you thought you didn't really care, and you probably didn't, but it's always a little disconcerting when someone suddenly completely shifts their attention to someone else, isn't it?

But you're not worried.

You've still got Serenity.

I wonder how much longer I can go without breaking---she comes and tells me about you, asks me what the phrases and tones that you use mean. Her eyes glow---you make her heart pulse, make her head swim. She tells me, expecting the classic older brother refusals, the comic protector, and I do my best to give it to her, mocking you whenever you give me a good chance---which is most of the time---glaring at you across the room while she smiles and waves.

I don't want to do this---pretend that this jealous older brother I am playing is less than an act than they all think it is. They know me, know my exaggerations; they expect a comic performance, a confident bluff over the reality of my softness. They know I would never oppose my baby sister in anything, and that's where you think you have me, don't you?

Because, this time, it isn't an act. I am the jealous older brother.

But I'm jealous of her. And now I'm aching because of all the people I love most, I never thought she'd be the one to hurt me. So I play this part that is eating me inside, eating me until the only thing that fills me now is a sort of permanent numbness, because I've lost this move.

And I still have to keep going.

You understand and play your part---you know that if she were to know about us, it would ruin everything---but it feels forced, now. The arguments, the public fights that we are trying to fall back into---a mockery of eight months ago when your words still stung, burned. Now, they mean nothing.

Just like us.

* * * Kaiba: Present *

It's hard to see---believe---how much you've changed. You try so hard to still play the fool, to keep the enthusiasm and fierce being you had before, but you seem tired, now. Beaten down.

I never thought---in all those times when what I wanted most in the universe, what I needed above anything else, was to break you, beat you, crack that easy, fierce confidence of yours, I never could and now it's happened anyway, and I hardly know you. It's a shame, really, but there's nothing I can do about it.

We are walking with your friends, and as I turn to smile at Serenity, to take her hand, I see, out of the corner of my eye, someone stop and watch us. No---I look closer.

Watch you.

"Joey!" she cries, and walks quickly over, her violet eyes glowing. Something in me snaps when you lift your eyes, shake your bangs from your face and see her---and smile. Really smile. I haven't seen you smile in months.

Not since that last afternoon.

"Mai!" you say, and hug her. I watch her hand flatten against your back. You pull away, hold her by the arms and look at her. "It's been forever. How've you been?"

The others rush over to her, all talking at once, and she smiles and chats with them as we continue on our walk, but I see her eyes sliding over to you, almost disbelievingly, I watch her watching you. She moves beside you and walks there, her golden hair swinging easily down her back. You are talking together, laughing together---I see that spark in your eyes starting to glint again, and my own narrow.

I grasp Serenity's hand a little tighter.

Tomorrow I will make my next move.

~ ~ ~ Kaiba: Memory ~

It's incredible, this feeling of absolute, total release. Your face is warm against mine and I feel the air stroke my cheeks as you pull away, cross-eyed. We are staring at each other, I am sucked into the light in your eyes---I want to touch it, to be it, to create it for you. Unbelievingly, my hand creeps up, hesitates, touches the soft smooth skin where your jaw meets your neck, and I bring my thumb along your jawline wonderingly.

You take a step back, my heart twists as I see---fear? apprehension? confusion?---in your eyes. You're suddenly unsure of yourself, and you look down to where my hand has fallen against my coat. You tilt you head down, I can't see your face behind those thick bangs of yours, and I am about to panic when you shift uncomfortably.

I relax. I understand. You want to say something, and you don't know what, or how, or even why. I'll take this bullet for you, Pup.

My hand comes up and I rub the back of my neck---where your hand had been, hot against my skin, a second ago---you look up, waiting---I'll make the move, this time.

"I went to your house," I confess, and look away. My voice is rougher than I expected, breaking our warm silence, and I wonder, panicked, whether you meant to talk at all or not. For am awful, heavy second that is really forever I think I've done the wrong thing, made the wrong move but then you grin. Light and easiness flood me. I can breathe again.

"I went to yours," you say, and I nod. It's the obvious conclusion now, although I hadn't known it before. You look a little uncomfortable---start to speak, fall silent. I wait. I know you, and you always rise to the occasion when it comes to words.

"Is it always that empty?" you ask.

I have to think about it---you've surprised me, and I realize I hadn't ever thought about it, but I nod. "Yes," I tell you. "It always is."

It's another stalemate, another silence, but now I know what I want and I'm going to take it---I won't see you go back to that empty, beaten house of yours, and I'm not going back to my hollow mansion without you to fill it.

I step towards you. Your eyes flicker, but you stand your ground. I'm proud---it takes courage, but you have that more deeply than I ever will---I look into your face, study you, note the soft shading of your cheek, the defiance in your eyes. You'd think we'd just had another fight, instead of---

I have to see if it's true.

My hand goes up your arm, catches in your thick hair---I lean my forehead
against yours.

"Come with me." I look into your eyes---behind the pride that masks your confusion; behind the defiance and the fierce beauty of them I can see that flame flicker.

"Please."

You slowly smile.

* * *

Aria: Well, that's chapter two. Man, that took a lot out of me...while writing this, I'm trying to remember what it's like to first be in love, before the fights and before the normalcy. There's something so electric in real love, where every touch, every look means something. I hope you liked it...please review! Reviews make me happy and keep me writing!