Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Sight the King ❯ in which Yuugi has his breakdown ( Chapter 7 )

even his mother can't discern his name.

 

._._.

 

The other boy in the room, who looked more like a ghost than a living person, tried to flop backwards onto the bed. Being less substantial than a person, the boy somewhat flopped through the bed for a moment before settling atop the mattress. With a very quiet mutter Yuugi could not catch, the other propped himself up by his elbows, at which point he smirked at Yuugi. His teeth were just as transparent as the rest of him.

 

“In the flesh,” he replied, his voice seeming to have long forgotten the uncomfortable cracks of puberty that Yuugi still suffered, the other's voice smoother and deeper than Yuugi's though not by much. He laughed, or made a noise that could in some strange universe be taken as a laugh: short and dark and somewhat bitter. “Keh, as close as I can get right now, anyway,” he added, his gaze still fixed on Yuugi.

 

Yuugi quickly took in the details of his mostly-visible companion, his eyes needing something to do while his mind and body recovered from shock to mantras of You've already seen him do this before, right? Right? Yes. Why am I freaking out? Ghost. Right. Not a dream. The other was dressed as Yuugi was that day - the dirty, not quite school uniform pants and blazer, looking bizarre with the design of the pattern of the blanket staining through it all. On the other's chest rested a ghost of Yuugi's Millennium Puzzle, the insubstantial bottom point of which seemed to point at Yuugi like a pendulum having dowsed for water or precious metals. Like Yuugi, the other boy wore a dark choker around his neck, though its blackness was not as intimidating in its inconstancy.

 

Most of these features were the same as the last time Yuugi saw the other in this form (though Yuugi's mind had convinced him it had been a dream, so the second exposure was no less jarring), but there were some differences. The other was no longer covered in blood, just as Yuugi was not; the other's hair had also been cropped short and colored, the red strands spiking out loosely like fire, a more sinister blaze Yuugi had never seen. Like Yuugi, the other boy too had the poorly shaved roots of bleached-blond edging his hairline like a row of harvested grain.

 

Although their features were similar there, too, it was in the other's face that Yuugi saw the most difference. Their noses and cheeks, eyebrows, ears, all that was nearly identical; even the cut of their chins and the shapes of their mouths were the same. It was the eyes of the other, and only there, that Yuugi saw the difference between this ghost and a photograph. The other's eyes were narrower, darker, bitter and cruel, and Yuugi couldn't help but be reminded of knives, warmed only by someone else's blood. He shivered.

 

Yuugi's brain had finally gotten used to the idea that he was (hopefully? possibly? please?) hallucinating, and started gearing up for rational thought once more. It decided to swing back into coherency by stating the obvious.

 

“You're... somewhat transparent,” Yuugi said, his gaze still wary. The other Yuugi sat up fully once more with a nod.

 

“I'd noticed,” he said wryly, his voice full of dark amusement. Yuugi finally released his grip on the locked doorknob and cautiously approached the bed.

 

“So...” Yuugi started, nervously, a thousand questions running through his head, “are you a ghost?”

 

Yuugi sat on the bed next to the other Yuugi, leaving enough room between them for a whole other person. If he reached over, Yuugi could touch the other's transparent form, but Yuugi did not know if he would actually touch anything other than air if he did so. Yuugi kept his hands against the bed.

 

The other shrugged. “Probably. I'm not precisely sure.” His already narrow eyes thinned further in query as they gazed at Yuugi. “Does that matter?”

 

Yuugi felt intimidated by that dark stare, even if he could see the opposite wall and a shoddy painting of children playing in a field through the other boy's head.

 

“No... I guess not,” Yuugi said after a moment, turning his gaze away from the other. It was much too weird, trying to focus his eyes just yet. “Even if... even if you're a ghost, you don't frighten me.” Liar! Yuugi accused to himself, glad that the other would not hear the thought.

 

And he did not, for the other Yuugi only gave a little `keh' of amusement. “Most people who meet me don't have time to develop proper fright,” he said, and though the harsh grin he wore was short-lived it made Yuugi think of B-movie villains. Yuugi shook the thought away, looking again at the other.

 

“Should I be afraid of you, other me?” Yuugi asked quietly, his hands clutching at the blanket. He wasn't scared - he wasn't! if he said he wasn't enough times, it would be true, right? - but the other Yuugi had sounded so harsh...

 

He didn't laugh this time. “Never,” the other replied, his voice unusually soft, “you must never fear me. I will not harm you.”

 

Yuugi forced himself to smile, releasing the blankets. He let his hands come up to cradle the Millennium Puzzle. “I'm... I'm glad,” he said, confused and awkward and shy but mainly confused, “because I... want to be friends with you.”

 

Without a word in response the other Yuugi stood, his focus entirely elsewhere as he crossed the room to the far wall dividing the room from the hallway. His stride was confident and powerful, like that of a general or a wolf, his stance tall and unconsciously proud. Yuugi instantly envied that stride.

 

The other Yuugi walked out of the room - straight through the door and out into the hallway. A second passed; part of Yuugi, the part that was still trying to be rational, was fixed on the fact that the other Yuugi walked through the door, passing through the wood as easily as air, and though he should have expected it, that part of Yuugi was relapsing into mild shock and knowing that he really shouldn't be at this point. The other part of him feared that the other was leaving, rejecting Yuugi's half-hearted offer of friendship, and for a split second Yuugi's entire body clenched in terror.

 

The second passed; the other had re-entered the room, and was now sitting on the bed once more, much closer to Yuugi than before. “I heard a noise,” the other tried to explain, even as Yuugi's jaw was still operating like a broken well pump, rising and falling without result, “but it was nothing of consequence.”

 

His fear of sudden abandonment abated, the rational part of Yuugi's mind took over once more. Despite the fact the other was without a doubt not composed of flesh and blood and crazy amounts of hair dye like Yuugi, and that he spent much of his time prior to this controlling Yuugi's shadow and whispering in the back of Yuugi's mind but having evidently been borne from Yuugi's completion of the Pyramid of God, the whole `walking through walls' bit was a tad too much for Yuugi to handle. Even though it logically was a useless move that should just confirm the other boy's status as a ghost, (though perhaps he only did it for reassurance that the other was there,) Yuugi reached over and tentatively brushed his fingers across the other Yuugi's cheek.

 

If the other Yuugi were a ghost, Yuugi's hand should have passed through that cheek, with little or no sensation of feeling for either of them. This did not happen, for the other Yuugi was not a ghost in the more traditional sense.

 

If the other Yuugi were a normal person like Yuugi, Yuugi's fingers should have easily come into contact with the other Yuugi's soft, Yuugi-mimicking cheek, and the nerve endings in Yuugi's hands would have sent sensory feedback information to Yuugi's brain identifying the feel of warm skin and the light touch of nearly invisible hair as that of a human cheek. Similarly, were the other Yuugi a normal person, haptic signals would have been sent from the other Yuugi's cheek to the other Yuugi's brain, detailing the slightly rough sensation of Yuugi's fingertips and the slightest bit of dampness indicating Yuugi's nervous sweat, identifying the touch. This is not quite what happened, for the other Yuugi is not quite a normal person.

 

While it is true that when Yuugi's hand went to the other's cheek, Yuugi felt solid human flesh beneath his fingertips, and while it is also true that the other Yuugi felt this slightly nervous caress upon his face, there is something that should be noted:

 

Yuugi's hand was touching the other's cheek. They could see this. They knew this is what was happening. Their brains, however, claimed that the other Yuugi was also touching Yuugi's cheek. This was not the case. Both of the other Yuugi's hands, after all, appeared to be resting on the bed (though this too was not technically true, as the other Yuugi could just as easily push his hands through the mattress without any resistance). Other than the sensation that had a cause on the other Yuugi's cheek, and the phantom sensation that had no logical source in his fingers, the other Yuugi felt nothing at all.

 

To correct this obvious error of sensation without cause, the other Yuugi brought up his malfunctioning hand and gently touched Yuugi's likewise confused cheek.

 

It was sudden, it was powerful, and Yuugi nearly started screaming. He was an electrical wire in a fresh circuit, sensation passing through him, looping and growing out of control like a virus, the sense of touch escalating and multiplying with each passing heartbeat, as though his skin were burning fresh and new under the soft pressure of flesh, as though he had a thousand fingertips touching a thousand faces, and though a thousand sets of fingertips were caressing his thousands of faces. His nerves were ablaze. His mind was reeling. His sense of feeling was burning out and he could not feel anything else, not even the bed upon which he sat.

 

Yuugi had never felt anything this... this wonderful in his entire life. If this was just fingers and faces, imagine entire hands! Or kissing! Or, or, or—

 

Yuugi ripped and pulled, flinging himself backwards, breaking the loop. He fell upon his back, eyes spinning from dizziness, his heartbeat erratic and his breathing ragged and labored. A couple moments passed, and once Yuugi was no longer choking to breathe he sat up, gazing to the other Yuugi.

 

The other looked to have yanked away at the same moment, for he was haphazardly sprawled on and through the far edge of the bed, limbs akimbo and hanging into air, where they did not fall into the mattress. Yuugi shifted closer, but made no move to touch the other again. The other Yuugi, though still appearing disoriented, gazed up at Yuugi.

 

“What... what the hell was that?” Yuugi asked on a breath, his voice full of wonder and fear, his hands shaking. The other Yuugi blinked, slowly, as though he hadn't heard. Yuugi touched his own cheek, his skin still sensitized and tingling under the contact. “I've never felt anything like that,” he whispered, drawing his hand away and staring at his hand. He did not think that he was expecting to see it glow or anything, but something had happened to it and Yuugi couldn't tell if he wanted to repeat the experience, or to repeat it forever.

 

“I haven't felt anything but that,” whispered the other, “unless I was... you.” The other sat up, pulling his limbs straight and somehow appearing to balance on the mattress itself. Yuugi released a shuddering sigh, pushing himself backwards until he was propped against the adjacent wall.

 

“Well, normal touch doesn't feel anything like that,” he explained, letting his eyes fall shut. “Not even pain is that intense.”

 

“Did I hurt you?” asked the other, quietly, and Yuugi quickly shook his head.

 

“Surprise, yes, but it didn't hurt.” Lies again, Yuugi thought, but something hurting and something being painful didn't always mean the same thing. You can think of other things that hurt but feel good, right? Like— Yuugi fought down the flush and the thought fiercely. “Though why that was so... urgh, I can't even describe it!”

 

There was a pause. “... remember the hospital?” asked the other, slowly, cautiously, “when we both grieved?”

 

Yuugi nodded in sadness, though the grief was numb. “I felt like I was going to drown,” he said honestly. “I've never felt that sad before, not even when my father—” Yuugi stopped, focusing on that matter at hand, when their emotions had begun feeding on one another. “Wait, you mean... whenever we feel the same - emotionally, physically - we... amplify?”

 

The other Yuugi paused for a moment, contemplative, before he nodded in agreement. He turned to Yuugi with a look of fierce concentration etched into his copied features. “I'm not sure why, but... whatever you feel, I feel, and... I leak back to you?” This was just as confusing for the other Yuugi, at least. Yuugi frowned.

 

“And then we just keep doubling?”

 

“And it grows taller and deeper the longer we feel, it seems.” The other Yuugi shifted, so he sat with his back `pressed against' the wall next to Yuugi, though there was still space between them. “Your emotions always affect me,” he whispered.

 

Yuugi shuddered, curling around the Puzzle in worry. “You... you can't expect me to just turn off my emotions,” he said, his voice shaking. “You can't! I can't! I'll... I'll...”

 

“Never!” said the other Yuugi harshly, nearly on top of Yuugi but careful not to touch him, “Precious aibou shall not shatter his merciful heart for me. Shatter the Puzzle first!”

 

“I can't!” Yuugi cried, clutching the Puzzle more tightly, still stained with blood, as though the other Yuugi would force the item from him. “I can't do this by myself! You... you've protected me, and my friends, you're—” Yuugi had to clench his eyes shut, because he didn't want to cry anymore, he didn't, he didn't, but wishing had only worked once, hadn't it?

 

Very slowly, Yuugi felt the palm of a hand cup his cheek. It was soft, and warm, and fingertips trailed gently into his hairline. Yuugi felt a phantom cheek under his own hand, but he fought the urge to complete the circuit.

 

Yuugi placed his hand - the one in error, feeling a cheek against Yuugi's bare skin - on the forearm of the other. The sense of feedback seemed to fade, and Yuugi opened his eyes.

 

The other Yuugi was staring at Yuugi, but it was one look Yuugi had never seen before: the other's eyes were hooded, and dark, and his breathing labored. “You must destroy me,” he whispered, his voice almost weak in agony, “if inaction would shatter your precious heart.”

 

Under the caress, Yuugi shook his head and tightened his grip on the other's arm. “I can't lose anyone else,” he whispered, feeling tears on his own thumb before he realized the other was wiping them away. “I don't want to be alone.”

 

The truth of his fear revealed, Yuugi kept trying to clench his eyes shut against their weakness. He was still scared of this other Yuugi - scared of what the other had done, what the other could do, would do. He was scared of the other's anger and his power and all the ways he could hurt anyone around him. He was scared that the other didn't actually exist - that he really was just hallucinations and multiple personality.

 

But most of all, beyond all that, Yuugi was scared of being abandoned. His father had died when Yuugi was still young - a shooting at the airport after his last trip abroad, he'd been caught in police crossfire, and after being labeled as `collateral damage' not one of the officers involved in his death were penalized in any way. Yuugi had never been able to make friends in school, other than Anzu, until he met Jounouchi - but then he got shot, too. (What was it with people Yuugi caring about and getting shot? Honestly!)

 

And now - now, Yuugi was pretty much on the other side of the country than his family, soon to be leaving for forever, never to see his mother or grandfather again, and it hadn't hit him before but Yuugi didn't have anyone left.

 

Yuugi was shaking again, wasn't he? He was sick of crying, sick of feeling this miserable, sick of how quickly his life had just gone to shit, he didn't even know how many days it had been - not even a week!

 

But the other Yuugi was there, not saying anything at first but combing his hand through Yuugi's short red hair, the other hand holding his shoulder, and even though Yuugi wanted to so badly he couldn't risk what might happen if he tried just hugging the other.

 

“Aibou...” the other whispered softly, cupping Yuugi's chin. Yuugi grudgingly opened his eyes to meet the other's gaze. Although Yuugi could see the far wall through the other's face, he was glad there was a face at all. The other squeezed his shoulder once more. “I want you to close your eyes, and count to ten.”

 

Yuugi couldn't help the shuddering laugh-shake-sob. “What, are we playing hi-hide and seek?” The other shook his head, looking sad but much more controlled than Yuugi.

 

“After ten, open your eyes. All right?” Shaking, Yuugi nodded, and let his eyes fall closed once more. He tried to suppress the pang of literal blind panic when the other Yuugi pulled away, taking all looped sensations of touch with him, but Yuugi kept his eyes clenched tightly shut.

 

It was a full twenty seconds later before Yuugi could work up the courage to open his eyes, his fears realized: the other Yuugi was nowhere to be seen.

 

Shaking, Yuugi crawled forward on the mattress, hoping against hope that he had just disappeared behind a door, or was hiding beneath the bed or in the walls to scare him, but still nothing save his shadow flailing on the—

 

Oh, right.

 

Yuugi turned his stare to his shadow on the wall, bewildered. Why would the other Yuugi retreat to that form? When the other Yuugi was a shadow, they could not share thoughts, and the shadow could not audibly speak; what comfort could this provide? But as Yuugi watched his shadow move, and shift on the wall, he saw.

 

If he hadn't been crying before, he would have started now.

 

Like earlier, when the shadow had been able to alter its form by donning weaponry, or the way it was able to trail words behind its movement, the other Yuugi had begun manipulating the shadows on the wall. Plural.

 

As Yuugi watched, Yuugi began recognizing the silhouettes the other Yuugi was mimicking, recognizing the memories upon which the other was drawing. Yuugi watched as the shadows on the wall imitated the shape of his grandfather, spiky hair sticking out under the round of his bandanna, his aged profile smiling as he knelt down to a shorter shadow - Yuugi's silhouette at the age of seven - and handed him a small box. In a swirl they changed, and it was the dark shadow of Yuugi's mother, tending to a wound on a young Yuugi's arm, yet both shapes were laughing silently. There, Anzu dancing; there, Honda holding a box filled with cardboard puzzle pieces; there, Yuugi's father with Yuugi riding on his shoulders.

 

There, Jounouchi and Yuugi eating ice cream.

 

Although the shadows trailed no words behind them, and though the other Yuugi could not speak directly into Yuugi's mind, Yuugi heard the meaning.

 

Being physically alone does not mean you have been abandoned, said the silhouette of Yuugi attempting to piece together the Millennium Puzzle. That they have left mortal life does not mean they have left you, said the shadow of Yuugi's father teaching Yuugi how to read. It is what you can see that cannot be seen, whispered Jounouchi to Yuugi in a school hallway before he ran off embarrassed.

 

Though it was not the other's intent, Yuugi saw some other truth in the shadows on the wall. Though I am but shadows and insubstantial things, it said, though I am not the company you wish to keep, though I am but a poor substitute - I will be here for you.

 

Curling on his side, Yuugi continued watching the shadow play of his life on the wall, his sorrow eventually fading (once the other had gotten into the more embarrassing moments, Yuugi couldn't help but feel both amused and mortified), and by the time Yuugi covered himself in blankets and prepared to sleep, the shadow once more returning to him, Yuugi felt something he had not since the whole mess began:

 

At ease.

 

._._.