Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Possession ❯ Sweet Surrender ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue, capishe?

AN: Another journal. Yugi's. -_-;

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They don't understand.

It's all right.

I never expected them to.

Sometimes I hardly understand it myself.

But I can't let go. I won't. Maybe I'm being selfish, and maybe I'm crazy, but nothing on heaven or earth is going to make me stop.

It sounds silly, I'm sure, and maybe I'm just a confused little boy who doesn't know what he wants. I don't know.

But it only feels that way sometimes.

At other times it makes me want to laugh and dance and sing and run screaming through the streets.

Why does it matter, anyway?

There's no escaping it, and I don't want to.

It's not that I enjoy harming others - I do my best to do the exact opposite! I can't help it, not really - I just... It just happens, sometimes... I don't mean it to, but...

It's not me, it's him.

God, but that sounds trite.

Maybe it is.

Maybe I am.

Maybe we are, but it doesn't feel that way.

No, this is overwhelming and addictive and completely insane. But trite? Never.

I don't know when it started - maybe I've felt this way all of my life and never known it. Or maybe it's just over the past few months that I began to understand. Either way, it's been so much, so fast, that sometimes I feel drowned.

But whoever said drowning was a bad thing?

It's just... so easy - sinfully easy. Beautifully easy.

Life means nothing until you melt yourself into another person, wrap yourself around their everything, know every breath and heartbeat and tear, taste what they do, feel what they feel, live and survive and simply be as one.

It's absolutely delicious.

I don't care what they think. He's not cold, he's not dead, and he's not horrible.

He feels - he feels so much he holds it back, keeps it under iron control. He told me once about the vaguest of memories, of a fight, screaming, the crash of gold against stone, and a sudden surge of wild power that flooded through everything around him.

He thinks he may have killed his father.

He isn't dead - how could anyone be dead, and yet so alive? The way he is, the way we are - it's shining and brilliant and vibrant, gleaming and flaming and coldly calculating. Not dead - far, far from it. He's so much more alive than any other person I know...

He isn't horrible. He's different and he's frightening and he's calm and manipulative, but he isn't horrible. He's cruel and harsh and vicious and ruthless - but he isn't horrible.

No one horrible could kiss me like that.

Not like the way he first kissed me, that confusing night before I met Rei. Not while we were snacking on popcorn and watching a horrible B-movie. Not something hungry and searching and salty and hot and desperate. Not while he held me as though I would break under his gentle fingertips, not while I could feel our heartbeats pounding against each other, not while I could taste fear and desire and hope and need. Not something so soft and yearning that it nearly made me cry. Not something that coaxed a blush onto his suddenly shy features, not something that darkened his eyes into pools of bloody crimson.

He took my breath away with only a single touch, and God help me but I never want it back.

Was it any wonder that I spent the night wondering and being terrified and feeling awkwardly shy?

I don't think so.

I was frightened. I can admit that now.

Frightened of the intensity of the feeling, frightened because I knew he felt the same, frightened because we were bound together for eternity and I didn't want to do anything that might cause our fragile relationship to splinter.

And besides, a guy had just stolen my first kiss. A very attractive guy, yes, but a guy nonetheless. It was a little unsettling to realize that, while I considered myself straight, I somehow managed to wind up with another guy's tongue stuck down my throat. And I liked it. A lot.

Which was probably why I jumped at the chance to eat lunch with Rei, shamed as I am now to admit it.

She was cute and sweet and friendly. The type of girl anyone could fall in love with. We talked about everything and nothing, and for a while, I managed to forget all about the unsettling incident of the night before. She was just that kind of girl, the one who when she smiles makes the world a better place.

Then my friends ganged up on me, mussed my hair, and attempted to tease me to death. I love them dearly, but...

But that made me think of someone else who I held very dear to my heart, who was my heart, and I almost burst into tears on the spot.

I managed to stumble home, mutter a greeting to grandpa, and retreat into my room. I came face-to-face with my dark side, bristling with rage and jealousy, danger and power rolling off of him in waves.

Logically, we should have had a screaming match, felt awful about it, and made up several hours later.

How I wound up making out with him is still something of a mystery to me. But God, the feel of his hands on my skin, the roughness of his kisses, the way we melded together - the urgency, the burning desire... it's too strange, too incredible to even describe.

And somewhere in the swirl of dizzying emotion I kept wondering whether or not he loved me. He certainly didn't love anyone else, and most certainly would never have a casual fling. He's just not that kind of person.

And I had until then been a bit wary - I am a teenage guy, and we do not take threats to our masculinity lightly.

If frenching another guy on multiple occasions isn't a threat to manliness, I don't know what is.

But it didn't seem to matter to either of us.

He tastes of heat and power and spring rain.

And on the next day, I had lunch with her again. Silly me.

He was infuriated.

I won't lie and say he isn't dangerous.

He is.

I know that. He's my darkness. I know the ease with which his power flows; I know how little he thinks about it when he kills. I know. I love him anyway.

She was cute and sweet and gentle.

He was gorgeous and harsh and frigid.

I had no choice but to choose him.

I'm glad I did.

He's everything. I love him. And, amazingly, he loves me!

I discovered it that night, that wonderful, wonderful night when I did what I should not have done with the person I should not have done it with.

But it's so easy when you know another's soul, so easy when you can feel his every breath, so easy when you know he's just as hungry as you are.

I don't know when or how I fell for him, but my fate was sealed in the midst of passion and desire, when we were wrapped so thoroughly in one another that neither of us knew what it was to be separate. When I was crushed in his embrace, when I had stolen yet another bruising kiss, when his body was warm and heavy on top of me - lost somewhere in that intoxicating haze lay the words that finished me off.

//You belong to me.//

Body and soul - one. Heart and mind - one. He absolutely refuses to share me with anyone. Friends and family - what could compare to self? I still love them, still manage to wrench myself away enough to have an outside life - but still...

I might be drowning.

We both might be drowning.

We might be drifting away.

It doesn't matter.

I need him. I love him. He's mine.

He's frightening and cold and malicious. He's possessive - very, very possessive. Jealous - violently. I can't condone his actions, but I can't condemn them. I accept them.

...I am sorry about Rei. I am. But he...

He's so jealous it's almost scary. If I didn't know that he would never go against my wishes, I would be frightened.

But he loves me just as desperately as I love him.

And that's all that matters.

I don't care what they think. I don't care what they say.

They don't live like this. They don't feel like this. They don't ache like this, they don't love like this, they don't need like this.

They don't understand. They'll never understand.

Never.

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AN: *sigh* Me and my weirdness... Well, review anyway.

Onwards to Journal #3: Fear
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