Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Soulmates ❯ Chapter1 ( Chapter 1 )

Soulmates

by Dragondreamer & Yami Dragon

Disclaimer: We don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! If we did, Dragon would have Seto wrapped in plastic and no one would be allowed to touch him but her.

Warning: This story contains shouenen-ai (guy/guy relationships) and yaoi (guys having sex with guys). It also contains coarse language and violence. If you don't like it, or become offended by such things, take off already!

Note: /…/ Tristan's thoughts

[…] Joey's thoughts

{…} Seto's thoughts

[[…]]Yami's thought and mind link to Yugi

//…// Yugi's thoughts and mind link to Yami

*…* Ryou's thoughts and mind link to Bakura

**…** Bakura's thoughts and mind link to Ryou

~*~*~*~*~

DD: And so it begins.

YD: Literally.

Tris: Why do I get the distinct feeling I'm not going to like this story.

YD: Whatever gave you that idea?

Tris: *rolls eyes* I know you.

DD: He's got you there, Dragon.

~*~*~*~*~

Tristan entered the classroom, surprised to see Seto Kaiba sitting at a desk at the back of the room.

The young CEO hadn't been at school earlier in the day, or the two days previous for that matter. Tristan smiled at him as they made eye contact and was more than a little surprised when Seto smiled back.

Making his way to his usual spot toward the front of the classroom, Tristan sat down, his gaze captured by the teacher, who was sitting cross-legged on the top of his desk, reading a book.

Tristan had to admit that the French teacher was certainly different from the other teachers at Domino High. It wasn't just the fact that he was younger than most of the other teachers. His appearance was unique, to say the least.

Marc LaCroix was down right gorgeous, with long blond hair and deep blue eyes. One was more apt to mistake him for one of the students because of the way he dressed. Every girl in the school had a crush on him. So did several of the male students. Tristan had to admit he found him attractive, but have a crush on him? No. His heart belonged to Joey. Even if the blond didn't, and probably never would, know it.

Tristan pulled his textbook from his backpack as the bell rang. He enjoyed this class, but it could get a little boring. It was the only class he had without at least one of his friends with him.

Jumping down from the desk, the teacher announced that they would pick up where they had left off the day before. Tristan stifled a groan and opened his book.

They were conjugating verbs and he hated it. /Could be worse. I could have taken English./

He chewed on the end of his pen, brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to make sense of the foreign writing. He didn't notice the teacher come up behind him until he felt a hand placed on the back of his neck.

"Problems, Tristan?"

Tristan felt his face burn at the seemingly casual touch. "Umm…no."

"You can come after school if you need extra help." Mr. LaCroix said. "I'd be more than willing to stay after for you."

Tristan looked up, his eyes widening at the look in his teacher's. The blue eyes held a look that shouldn't have been bent on a student. "I think…I think I can manage."

"I insist. If you're having difficulties, I'd like to help."

"Umm…well…okay."

"Wonderful." Mr. LaCroix smiled. "I'll be expecting you then."

Tristan frowned as the teacher moved away. /What the hell was that?!/ He glanced at the students around him to see if any of them had noticed the exchange, but everyone was busy with their own work.

Or so he thought.

Feeling eyes on him, he turned in his seat to see Seto looking at him, an almost angry expression on his face. Tristan raised an eyebrow and Seto looked away. Tristan was about to ask him what his problem was when Seto's cell phone rang.

"Mr. Kaiba," The teacher sounded annoyed. "What have I told you about having that thing on in my class?"

Seto stood, his gaze raking over the teacher scornfully. "As if anything you say holds any importance for me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You should." Seto strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Tristan bit back a snicker. /Gods, he can be funny without even meaning to. Wonder why I never saw it before?/

"Class." Mr. LaCroix had to raise his voice to be heard over the laughter of the students. "Enough."

He had just regained control over his classroom when the door opened again and Seto came back in. The tall brunet went to his desk, picking up his briefcase and his textbook and turning to leave again.

"Mr. Kaiba, where do you think you're going?"

Seto paused briefly, turning cold eyes on the teacher. A smirk crossed his lips and he continued on his way out the door, not replying.

Shocked silence settled over the class as they gaped at the open door, amazed at the CEO's rudeness.

"Well," Mr. LaCroix turned toward the blackboard. "One lesson we've all learned today…money breeds arrogance."

Tristan shook his head. He had hoped that after everything he'd gone through on Pegasus' island would have tempered Seto's attitude, but it obviously hadn't. The conversation they had had in the helicopter on the way back must have been a fluke.

/Too bad. I was hoping he'd be a little more…likeable now./ Tristan felt a sense of loss he didn't really understand. /I should have known better./

~*~*~*~*~

"Tristan."

Tristan looked up to see Seto standing next to the table where he and his friends were eating.

"Hey, Kaiba!" Yugi smiled at him, not seeming to mind that he was blatantly ignored.

"I would like to speak to you." Seto cut a glance at the group sitting around the table. "Privately."

"Whatever you have to say to Tristan, you can say to all of us, Kaiba." Tea said. "We're his friends. He doesn't keep things from us."

"Whatever." Seto stepped back, waiting for Tristan to rise from his chair.

When he did, Tea opened her mouth to say something, but Ryou elbowed her in the ribs, shaking his head. She huffed, tossing her head and pointedly looking in the other direction.

Tristan resisted the urge to tell her to go to hell and got up, following Seto to the end of the cafeteria. He stood there, waiting for the CEO to speak, shifting a little uncomfortably under the steady blue gaze.

"You left kind of abruptly during class." Tristan said in an effort to get him talking. "Everything okay? It's not Mokuba, is it?"

"My brother is fine." Seto said. "He's just…he's…" Seto mentally shook himself. "I didn't want to talk to you about Mokuba."

"What DID you want to talk to me about?" Tristan asked. /This isn't like him. What the hell's going on?/

"Well, it does have to do with Mokuba…indirectly." Seto reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a white envelope. "I meant it when I said I was grateful to you for saving him. This is…a little something to show my appreciation."

Tristan raised an eyebrow and took the offered envelope. He opened it and looked inside. It was a check. His eyes widened at the number of zeros.

"Kaiba," He held out the envelope. "I can't take this."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"I don't want it."

"But…"

"Look, I don't need your money. I did what I did for Mokuba. He's a good kid and I like him a lot." Tristan offered the envelope again. Seto didn't take it. "If you don't take it, I'm going to rip it up."

Seto snatched the envelope from Tristan's fingers, scowling. "And here I thought you were smarter than the rest of the fools you hang around with."

"And here I thought Duelist Kingdom taught you to be less of a dick." Tristan retorted angrily.

Seto took an involuntary step back, surprised by the venom in Tristan's voice. He didn't think the other brunet had it in him to be vindictive.

"I'm sorry, Kaiba." Tristan said, seeing the look on the other's face. "That was uncalled for."

Seto started to apologize as well, but caught himself. He was Seto Kaiba. He didn't apologize. But something in him wanted to repay Tristan for what he had so selflessly done.

"If you don't want my money, then maybe you'll take my advice." Seto turned away slightly. "LaCroix has a reputation for making passes at guys like you. You'd better watch your back."

Tristan frowned as Seto walked away from him, his trench coat swirling around his ankles. /Guys like me? What did he mean by that? Did he mean because I'm gay? That must be what he meant. So…maybe Mr. LaCroix WAS making a pass at me today. Not sure what I think about that./

"Hey, Tris!" Joey came running up. "What did money bags want?"

"Huh?" Tristan jerked from his thoughts, focusing on Joey. "Nothing. He just wanted to thank me for finding Mokuba, that's all."

Joey's chin dropped. "He actually said thank you?!"

"Sorta." Tristan punched the stunned blond in the arm. "Come on, Joey. Kaiba's not that bad."

"You been sniffing glue or something? This is KAIBA we're talking about."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Get off it, Joey."

"Are we going to see Nana after school?" Joey asked, changing the subject.

"I'm not going right away." Tristan said as they headed back to the table. "Mr. LaCroix wants me to stay after school."

"He does?" Joey looked concerned. "What for?"

"Extra help."

"Uh-huh." Joey looked at Tristan strangely.

"What?"

"Nothing, man." Joey sat down at the table. "You gonna finish that sandwich?"

Tristan rolled his eyes and handed the rest of his lunch to Joey, shaking his head as the blond devoured it.

~*~*~*~*~

Joey closed his locker and turned to Tristan. "I think I'd better go home today."

"Are you sure?" Tristan looked worried. "Joey, if your dad…"

"It's okay, Tris." Joey smiled. "I can handle him. Besides, we've been back for three days. I haven't been home. The longer I stay away…"

"Just…be careful. Okay?"

"I will." Joey shouldered his backpack. "Tell Nana I'll see her tomorrow."

"Sure thing." Tristan stood watching Joey leave, a heavy feeling in his gut. /He'd better not hurt you, Joey. Why do you stay with him? Why do you keep going back when all he does is hurt you?/

Tristan shook his, shutting his locker door. It was going to be quiet and lonely tonight. His parents had both left town the day he had gotten back, but with Joey staying with him, he hadn't even noticed their absence.

/Maybe I'll see if Ryou wants to stay over./ Tristan made his way down the hall to the French classroom. /He's alone even more than I am./

"You look rather lost in thought, Tristan."

Tristan's head snapped up. "Sorry, sir."

"It's okay. I was just waiting for you." Marc LaCroix smiled reassuringly.

"I had to go to my locker." Tristan felt distinctly uncomfortable when the teacher shut the door behind them. "Umm…I don't really need help. It just takes me a little longer to figure out some of the more complicated verbs."

Mr. LaCroix sat down at his desk, indicating a chair next to him. "Sit. Let's take a look at the problem."

Tristan sat down, unconsciously leaning away when the teacher leaned toward him. He opened his text book and looked up expectantly.

"I wasn't talking about a problem with your school work, Tristan."

"Excuse me?" Tristan asked, confused.

"Is everything okay? You look tired."

"I'm…I'm fine."

"I've been watching you, Tristan." The French teacher leaned closer. "For a very long time. You look like you haven't been sleeping…like there's something heavy on your mind."

"I'm fine, Mr. LaCroix." Tristan repeated, getting distinctly uncomfortable. "Really."

"Tristan," LaCroix laid a hand on the brunet's arm. "If you need to talk to someone, I'd like to be the one. I think you're very…special, and I'd like to be there for you if you need me."

/Oh, holy hell. Kaiba was right! He's hitting on me. What do I do?/ Tristan cleared his throat. "Everything's okay. I'm just still kinda wore out from the whole tournament. It was rough on all of us."

"Especially you. Am I right? It must have been difficult for you."

"How do you mean?" Tristan shook his head, not understanding where the man was coming from.

"Your friend…Joey…"

/Okay, enough of this shit. He's NOT going to drag Joey into this./ Tristan stood, picking up his backpack. "I have to go. I have to go see my grandmother."

"Tristan, wait." LaCroix stood as well, grasping Tristan by the arm. "I meant what I said. I'm here if you need someone."

Tristan flushed, turning away. /Why do I get the feeling there's something more there than what he's saying?/ "Thank you, sir. I'll remember that."

Tristan left the classroom, feeling a pair of blue eyes burning into him.

~*~*~*~*~

Tristan shut off the engine of his motorcycle and pulled off his helmet, fighting to keep his tears in check.

The visit with his grandmother hadn't gone well. She had had some sort of seizure during the night and hadn't recognized him when he had first arrived. She had fallen asleep on him and when she woke up, had asked him how long he had been there, seeming much more alert. Then, just before he left, she had become confused again, mistaking Tristan for his father.

Placing his helmet on the bike's handlebar, Tristan went into the house, not noticing the pair of sneakers on the mat by the door. He went straight to the kitchen and grabbed a soda from the fridge, heading into the living room to watch TV.

A small, muted sob stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Joey!" Tristan ran to the couch, seeing his friend lying there, crying, an icepack to his face. "What happened?!"

"Tris…" Joey sat up, reaching out for the brunet.

Tristan dropped to his knees and took Joey into his arms, seeing the bruise on the blond's cheek as the icepack fell to the floor. "He hit you again, didn't he?"

"Y-Yes." Joey clung to Tristan. "He…he wanted to celebrate me being home. He lit a…a joint and he wanted me to…he wanted me to…oh, gods, Tris!"

"Did you?" Tristan asked, his heart aching.

"No. I told him I didn't want it and he…hit me."

Tristan fought back the urge to kiss the injured face, settling instead for stroking Joey's golden hair. "Joey, why don't you tell someone? It's not right."

"I tried." Joey said. "I told the councilor at school, but she didn't believe me. She said that I was making it up. That I was blaming my father when I was getting beat up in street fights. She said that kids like me never amount to anything…that I'd give in to the drugs again. But I won't! You and Yugi believed in me, you helped me through the worst time in my life. I won't disappoint you guys. I won't go back there, Tristan!"

"I know you won't." Tristan rose, sitting on the couch next to Joey. He willed his body not to react as Joey crawled into his lap and laid his head on his shoulder, looking for comfort. "Joey, you're staying here with me for now. I can't let you go back to that."

"But, Tristan…"

"No. Don't argue with me." Tristan wrapped his arms around the distraught teen. "You can stay here as long as you want."

"What about your folks?"

Tristan shrugged. "They're going to be gone for a month. Besides, they never have a problem with you staying here."

Joey nodded, burrowing into the comfort of his friend's embrace. "Okay."

Tristan held Joey close, a small sigh escaping him. It felt so good to have Joey in his arms, even if it didn't mean the same thing to the blond that it did to him.

"Tris? Got any aspirin? My head is pounding."

"Sure thing." Tristan reluctantly moved out from underneath Joey and headed for the kitchen. He brought back two aspirin and a can of soda, handing them to Joey. "Hungry?"

Joey grinned at him. "Always. Want me to cook dinner?"

"Hmm…let me think." Tristan smiled. "Yes!"

Joey laughed and downed the pills. "At least I'll earn my keep."

"To hell with that! I just love your cooking."

Tristan watched at Joey jumped up and went into the kitchen, the noise of his searching through the cupboards and the fridge sounding like he was preparing to feed an army.

He headed into the little used den, calling out and telling Joey where he was going. He didn't notice Joey come to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, looking after him with an odd expression on his bruised face.

Tristan closed the door behind him, crossing the room to where a low table was set against the wall. He knelt in front of it, reaching out and picking up a lighter, using it to light a couple of sticks of incense stuck in a clay pot filled with sand.

The room was dim and the lighter briefly illuminated the table, proving it to be an altar of sorts.

Settling back on his heels, Tristan closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He reached deep inside himself, looking for that spot inside him where his true self dwelled.

It had been a long time since he had followed the practices of the religion his grandparents had taught him.

Andrew Cole had come to Japan in the second year of his marriage to Miriam on a military posting. When his time was up, they had decided to stay and raise their daughters, Tristan's mother and his aunt, in the culture they had become immersed in.

Though they had both been born and raised Christian, in their years in Japan they had converted to Buddhism. Their daughters had shown little interested in their adopted faith, but when Tristan had turned ten, they had introduced it to him.

Though religion as a whole never really appealed to him, Tristan found some of the Buddhist teachings brought him peace when his mind was in turmoil.

He knew his grandmother was dying. And once she was gone, he'd be alone. She was the only family he felt he had. Last year he had gotten into a fight with his father, he didn't even remember what about, and his father had told him that he was a mistake. They had never planned on having children and they never really wanted him.

He had gone to his mother and she had confirmed what his father had said, though not as blatantly. Apparently, only his father's Christian beliefs had kept Tristan's mother from having an abortion.

From that day on, his relationship with his parents had become strained and distant.

That fight came back to him now, his father's voice tormenting him.

/What am I going to do when you're gone, Nana? Who am I going to confide in? You're my best friend. You always accepted me for who I am. I can't say that about Mom and Dad./

Tristan thrust the thoughts from his head, trying to empty his mind. It didn't work.

/I wish I could take your advice and tell Joey how I feel, but I can't. I'm too scared. I love him so much. It hurts to see him like this. I could kill his father! Who the fuck is he to hurt Joey that way?! Joey is one of the most loving and caring people I know! That bastard has no right…!/

Tristan's eyes snapped open and he realized there were tears running down his face. His hands were clenched so hard they were aching and his breath was coming in ragged pants.

He shook himself, physically and mentally. This was not what this exercise was meant for. It was supposed to calm him and help him center himself. It was meant to help him find the strength he needed to face the inevitability of his grandmother's death.

The door opened and he spun around, seeing Joey standing there, biting his lip and looking uncertain.

"Umm…sorry." The blond apologized. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

Tristan shook his head. "It's okay."

"Dinner's ready." Joey walked over and knelt next to the brunet. "Tris? Is everything okay?"

Tristan stared at the altar, watching the smoke from the incense curl upward, dispersing into the air. "Not really. Nana's…she's…I don't think she has much longer."

"Really?" Joey's eyes filled with tears. "Well…umm…can we go see her after supper? Please?"

"If you want." Tristan said quietly.

"Tris, I'm so sorry." Joey reached for the brunet's hand. "I know she means a lot to you."

A small sob fell from Tristan's lips and Joey put his arms around him. "I don't know if I can handle it, Joey."

"I'll be here for you." Joey whispered. "Just like you are for me. We're buds. You stood by me through everything. I'm not going to leave you now."

"Thanks, Joey." Tristan hugged Joey hard, burying his face in the soft blond hair. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

"She means a lot to me too, Tris." Joey said, giving him a squeeze and then untangling himself from the other's arms. "Come on. Spaghetti's getting cold."

Tristan let Joey haul him to his feet and followed him from the room just as the last stick of incense burned out.

~*~*~*~*~

"Thanks, Odette!" Mokuba smiled up at the woman as she set his dinner in front of him.

"You're very welcome." She smiled back. Unable to help herself, she reached out and ruffled his hair. "Is there anything else you need, Master Kaiba?"

"No, thank you, Odette." Seto gave his brother an admonishing look. "Mokuba, don't use your fingers."

"But it's finger food!" The younger Kaiba protested.

"Chicken is not finger food." Seto said, hiding a smile. "Use your fork."

Mokuba sighed and picked up the required utensil. "You really need to lighten up, big brother."

Seto shook his head and turned his attention back to the file sitting next to his plate. It was the quarterly report for his PR department. Normally, it wouldn't be a cause for concern, but there were some discrepancies in their funding that had caught his eye.

{A hundred and fifty thousand dollars for "miscellaneous"? Do they honestly think they can pull that shit? Becket's going to have some explaining to do.}

"Seto? Did you hear what I just said?"

Seto looked up, seeing his brother's face covered in barbeque sauce. "Mokuba, wipe your face."

Mokuba picked up his napkin and gave his face a cursory swipe. "You're not even listening to me!"

"Sorry." Seto closed the file and gave the boy his full attention. "What were you saying?"

"I want to have Yugi and his friends over."

"Why?"

Mokuba rolled his eyes. "Because they're nice. Besides, it wouldn't hurt you to have some friends over."

"They're not my friends, Mokuba." Seto stated, pushing his plate away.

Mokuba sighed, seeing it. Seto hadn't even touched his dinner…again. Come to think of it, Mokuba hadn't seen him eat enough to keep a bird alive since they got back.

"Seto, you promised. You told me you'd try to be nice to them." Mokuba reminded his brother.

"I said I'd be nice. Not that I'd let them run loose in my house."

"Oh, come on!" Mokuba put his fork down. "I know you like Tristan. I heard you guys talking in the chopper."

Seto's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was pretending." Mokuba shrugged. "Tristan's really nice. You should get to know him better."

"Mokuba, we've been over this before. I don't have time for friends and all the foolishness that comes with them. I have…"

"A company to run." Mokuba interrupted. "I know, I know. But Seto…if it wasn't for them, Pegasus would have taken over Kaiba Corp. I owe Yugi and the rest of them." Slate grey eyes hardened and, for a moment, Mokuba seemed ten years older. "And so do you."

"I didn't ask for their help."

"But you got it. That's what friends do, Seto."

"Finish your dinner." Seto stood, trying to hide how uncomfortable his own brother was making him. "I have work to do."

Mokuba opened his mouth to protest, but found his words dying in his throat as Seto strode from the room. Tears filled the boy's eyes. He knew his brother was lonely. He had to be. Why wouldn't he open up enough to make friends?

Mokuba stared down at his plate, suddenly finding his appetite had vanished. When he had heard his brother talking to Tristan on the way back from Duelist Kingdom, he had hoped it would lead to something.

Seto needed friends.

~*~*~*~*~

{I don't need friends.}

Seto sat down behind his desk, pulling his laptop toward him. He had felt Mokuba staring after him as he left the dining room, had felt his little brother's concern.

{I don't have time for friends. Running my company and trying to keep Mokuba safe is all I have time for.}

He took off his glasses and tossed them on top of the desk, rubbing his eyes. He knew he wouldn't sleep again tonight. Which was fine by him. The nightmares were becoming too much, too real.

After each one, he'd find himself in Mokuba's room, standing over his sleeping sibling, watching him, trying to convince himself the boy was really there. Last night he hadn't been able to leave and had ended up crawling into bed with his brother, holding him tightly and fighting back the tears. Luckily, Mokuba hadn't woken and he had left before he did.

{I've worked so hard to keep him safe. Done things I'm not proud of to protect him. I can't let anything deter me from that.}

Seto rested his elbows on the desk and dropped his head into his hands. He hadn't been able to get his conversation in the helicopter with Tristan off his mind. There was something about the other brunet that spoke to him. It was like he knew him…knew what he was thinking. That indefinable something was enough to make him think that maybe having friends wasn't such a stupid idea after all.

And then there was Yugi.

Yugi Motou was different from the people he dealt with every day. He was innocent and trusting. Normally, and certainly when he had first met him, Seto considered such traits a weakness.

Then it had stuck him. Yugi could be that way because of his friends. His friends protected him, much in the way he protected his brother. He knew Tristan and Joey would go to the ends of the earth for him.

He would do that for Mokuba. Without question and without a second's hesitation.

{But if I needed it, who would be there for me?} Seto straightened in his chair. He knew the answer to that. {I don't need anyone. I have everything I need. Friends are for weaklings.}

Pushing aside the useless thoughts, Seto set to work, burying himself in facts and figures…the only companions he had.

~*~*~*~*~

Yugi bit back a chuckle, hearing Yami sigh in relief as he shut the door behind Tea.

[[I thought she'd never leave.]]

Yugi shook his head, amusement sparkling in his amethyst eyes as he went back up the stairs, calling out to his grandfather and telling him he'd be in his room. //You don't like Tea much, do you, Yami?//

Yami appeared, sitting on the bed, as soon as Yugi closed the door. "I just find her tiring after a while."

Yugi sat down next to his dark, yawning. "I know it's early, but I'm tired. I think I need to go to bed early tonight."

"You don't have school tomorrow, Aibou. You can sleep in."

"I may just do that. Joey's coming over tomorrow." Yugi got up and went to his dresser, pulling out a pair of pajamas. He glanced at Yami, noticing the former pharaoh had turned away to give him some privacy. "You know, I was thinking…I think we should tell our friends about you."

"Do you think that's wise?" Yami turned back to Yugi, seeing him buttoning up the shirt of his pajamas.

"Well, I think Tea already suspects. And I know we can tell Joey, which means we can tell Tristan too." Yugi looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yami, I think there's something wrong with Tristan. Ever since we met up with Ryou at Duelist Kingdom, he's been acting kind of strange. He's not as…well…open as he used to be."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he's always been really physical. For as long as I've know him, he's never thought anything of hugging people, or telling his friends he loves them. But lately he's been kinda quiet."

"I know he's worried about his grandmother." Yami smiled as Yugi crawled under the covers and pulled them up to his chin. "Perhaps that is what's wrong."

"I don't know. I think there's more to it than that." Yugi yawned again, closing his eyes. "Maybe we should spend some time with him."

"If you want, Aibou." Yami stood. "I think I'll retreat to my soul room now so you can sleep."

"Okay." Yugi snuggled down under the covers. "Good night, Yami."

"Good night, little one."

Yami waited until he felt Yugi slip into slumber and then approached the head of the bed. He bent and brushed ghostly lips against his other's cheek before straightening and withdrawing to the Puzzle.

He entered his soulroom and threw himself down on the huge, silk draped bed. At least here, his body had substance. Unlike in the real world.

He thought of Yugi, lying in the bed in his bedroom. He was so innocent…so beautiful. His untainted soul shone in his eyes and Yami knew what he felt for his light was a love as pure.

[[I can do nothing about it.]] Yami threw his arm across his eyes. [[He's too naïve to understand emotions like the ones I have for him. And without a body…we could never be anything to each other. No. It's better that I keep my feelings to myself. Let him fall in love with someone he can have a life with.]]

Turning over on his stomach, Yami buried his face in a pillow. "Oh, Ra, why have you done this to me? Why have you allowed me to fall in love with the one I'm supposed to protect, the one I can't be with? Why have I been cursed with this half existence?"

Quiet sobs echoed off the stone walls of the soulroom, the one window turning dark and streaking with rain, indicating the feelings of the room's occupant.

~*~*~*~*~

Tristan woke with a start, his heart pounding.

He glanced at the clock, seeing it was only two in the morning. He turned over and became aware that the sheets were damp with sweat…among other things.

/Gods. Not again./

It was the same dream he had been having for almost three years. It had started around the same time he had admitted to himself that he had feelings for Joey. And they always ended the same way…with a shower and a change of his bed sheets in the middle of the night.

A growl of disgust came from him as he threw back the covers and rose from the bed, grabbing his bathrobe. He made his way down the hall to the bathroom. Turning on the light, he leaned against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

/If only they weren't so real. I keep expecting to wake up with him next to me./ He shed his bathrobe and turned on the shower, stepping in. /I wish they were real. Gods…I could feel him. I could feel his lips on mine, his hair against my skin. He told me he loved me. I heard him. He was so passionate. So warm and loving./ Tristan shivered, feeling himself becoming aroused. /Joey…I want you. Gods, I love you./

He turned up the cold water and soon enough, he was shivering for a different reason. Only this time it wasn't working. He turned off the hot water completely, clenching his teeth as the icy spray pounded into his skin, refusing to give in to the needs of his body.

Finally bringing himself under control, he turned off the water and exited the shower, quickly drying himself off. He threw on his bathrobe again and grabbed some clean sheets out of the linen closet before heading back to his bedroom.

He stopped at the closed door to the spare bedroom, listening carefully. Sometimes, after his father had beaten him up, Joey had nightmares. There had been times when he had stayed that the blond would end up crawling into bed with Tristan because they were so bad.

Not tonight though. Tristan could head Joey snoring on the other side of the door and he walked away, resisting the impulse to go in and check on him.

Quickly changing the bed, Tristan crawled back in, burrowing down under the covers. /I can't keep doing this to myself. I can't tell him that I'm in love with him. He'll hate me. We're friends. That's it./ Tristan sighed, shifting to get more comfortable. /Maybe…maybe I need to find myself a boyfriend. If I was with someone else, maybe I could forget./

Tristan tried to convince himself that he could do it. That he could be with someone else. Running over every gay teen he knew, he tried to imagine himself with them.

The only problem was, he kept seeing Joey's face.

~*~*~*~*~

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" Joey asked, pulling on his sneakers.

"Nah. You go on." Tristan put the last of the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. "I'll come by later and we can go see Nana."

Joey waked up to Tristan and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "Tris, I know that you're upset she didn't know who you were last night. But…maybe…maybe she'll be better today."

Tristan shrugged. "Maybe."

He was more than upset. When he and Joey had gone to the hospital after dinner the night before, Miriam had greeted Joey in her usual fashion, calling him her "golden angel", and had then asked him who his friend was.

It had taken Joey ten minutes to explain who Tristan was and she had, once again, thought Tristan was his father.

"Come with me." Joey begged. "We can take Yugi and go get Ryou and just hang out. It'll do you some good to get out."

"No thanks." Tristan shook his head. "I'm just going to clean up here and get my homework done. You go. I'll be over after lunch."

Joey bit his lip and nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Listen, is my dad calls…"

"I haven't seen you. I know. Go already."

"If you're sure…"

"Yes!" Tristan rounded on the blond. "Just go!"

Joey backed away. "Okay, okay! Don't get all pissy."

"I'm sorry." Tristan said, reaching out and grasping Joey by the arm. "It's just…I just need to be alone for a while."

"It's alright, Tris. I understand." Joey smiled reassuringly, letting Tristan know he wasn't mad. "I'll see you after lunch."

Tristan watched Joey leave, shaking his head. /One thing I sure as hell inherited from my father was his temper./

He sighed, sitting down at the table. He was exhausted. He hadn't gone back to sleep after his shower last night, and he knew the lack of sleep had shortened his temper considerably. That didn't excuse it though. He'd have to find a way to make it up to Joey.

He didn't have it half as hard as the blond. Joey was afraid to even go home. He was, in effect, hiding out here from his father, knowing full well that when he DID go home, he could very well get a beating for something as simple as breathing too loud.

/He doesn't deserve me being an asshole to him./ Tristan laid his head down on his crossed arms. /If there's one thing Nana and Grandpa taught me it's that you don't treat someone you love that way. And I do love him…so much it hurts./

Tristan's musings were interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. He hauled himself out of the chair, thinking the last thing he wanted right now was visitors.

Opening the door, he was surprised at who he found standing on the doorstep. "Mr. LaCroix! What are you doing here?"

"You left your textbook at school." The man held up the book in question. "I thought I'd drop it off to you."

"How did you know where I live?"

"I looked it up in your file." Marc LaCroix smiled. "I thought you'd want it, seeing as I know for a fact you have homework this weekend."

"Umm…want to come in?" Tristan stepped back, holding the door open.

"I'd love to." LaCroix moved past Tristan and into the house. "Are your parents home? I haven't met them before."

"No. They're out of town for the next month." Tristan led his teacher into the living room, indicating that the man should seat himself. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure. Whatever you've got."

Tristan went into the kitchen, taking a couple of cans of soda from the fridge and bringing them back into the living room. He handed one to the teacher, sitting down on the couch and trying to hide his shock when the blue eyed man got up from his chair and came to sit next to him.

"Tristan," LaCriox put the can down on the coffee table and turned to the brunet. "I didn't just come here to give you your textbook."

"Okay." Tristan leaned back. /He's not big on personal space, is he?/ "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Actually…yes." LaCroix ran a hand through his hair. "Yesterday…well…I meant it when I said I thought you were special."

"Mr. LaCroix…"

"Please, we're not in school. You can call me Marc." He laid a hand on Tristan's leg. "Tristan…I know this is wrong of me but…I don't know how to say this."

"Umm…" Tristan shifted uncomfortably. "Just…say it…I guess."

"You know, I'm not much older than you are. I know you just turned seventeen…and I'm only twenty-three. It's just…I've been finding it kind of hard since I moved here. Most of the people I associate with…other teachers…are a lot older than I am."

"I can see where that would be a problem." Tristan said, acutely aware of the warmth of the other's hand.

"Being gay doesn't help." Marc smiled slightly. "But then again…you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Yeah." Tristan looked away. "It hasn't been easy. But my friends are okay with it. That's all that really matters."

"You're very lucky to have friends. I don't really have any."

Tristan looked back, seeing the truth in the man's eyes. He suddenly needed to know exactly what it was his teacher wanted from him. He wasn't in the mood for games.

"What are you getting at?" He looked pointedly at the hand on his leg.

"I was wondering if…maybe…you'd like to go out or something."

"I can't go out with you! You're my teacher!"

"Only for another couple of months."

"Look, Mr. LaCroix…"

"Marc."

"Marc…" Tristan looked directly at the man sitting next to him. "You could get into a lot of trouble for this."

"I know." Marc shrugged. "It's a chance I'm willing to take."

"Why?"

"Because I like you…a lot." Marc reached up with his free hand and touched Tristan's face. "You're very beautiful, Tristan. And I know you're just as lonely as I am."

"I have my friends." Tristan protested, something inside him liking the feeling of Marc's hand against his cheek.

"But you want more than that, don't you?" Marc leaned close, his lips almost touching Tristan's.

/Do I? He…he called me beautiful. But Kaiba said…/ Tristan's thoughts screeched to a halt as Marc's mouth closed over his.

Without meaning to…without knowing why…Tristan responded, his hands coming up to tangle in the other's soft hair. He was surprised when Marc's lips parted under his and he instinctively took control.

He came to his senses as he felt Marc press against him and he pulled back, his eyes wide.

Marc smiled gently at him, stroking his face. "That was your first kiss, wasn't it?"

Tristan nodded numbly.

"I'm honored." Marc leaned in again, brushing their lips together. "Maybe I can be your first for…other things."

Tristan shivered, feeling the man's breath, warm against his face. "I don't…I don't know."

"Think about it, Tristan." Marc moved away, standing. "I would like very much to spend more time with you. Maybe you'd like to stay after school again on Monday."

"Umm…I don't know, Marc. I don't think this is such a good idea." Tristan looked up uncertainly. "I really don't want you to get in trouble."

"Let me worry about that." Marc smiled.

Tristan stood, going with Marc to the front door. Before he could reach to open it, Marc was kissing him again. As before, he didn't seek control and when Tristan kissed him back, slipping his tongue into his mouth, he moaned softly.

Tristan drew away slowly, looking somewhat dazed into the other's eyes. "Marc, I…"

"Shh," Marc stopped his words, placing his fingers over Tristan's lips. "Don't say anything now. I want you to think about it. I just want you to know that I…care about you, Tristan. I've been watching you for a long time. I feel like I know you. And I'd like to get to know you better."

Not giving Tristan a chance to reply, Marc opened the door and left, closing it behind him.

Tristan stood, staring at the closed door, wondering what the hell had just happened.

/Gods! He…he KISSED me! But…I kissed him back./ Tristan went back into the living room, collapsing on the couch. /I always wanted Joey to be the first person I kissed. But that's not going to happen. I'm never going to kiss Joey. Not like that. It's never going to be like it is in my dreams. I'm never going to hold him that way. I'll never kiss him, or make love to him. He'll never see me that way./ Tristan buried his face in his hands. /Gods…what do I do? He said he cared about me. He wants to get to know me better. But…he's not Joey./

Tristan stood up, grabbing the unopened cans of soda and taking them back into the kitchen. He stood at the sink, staring out the window but not really seeing.

/I'm not going to be with Joey…ever. So I might as well get used to the idea. Marc's attractive. Okay…he's gorgeous. So what if he's older…and my teacher? Summer's almost here and next year I won't have him. So, why not? I decided last night I needed a boyfriend. Why not Marc?/

Tristan sighed, hanging his head. /I'll never have Joey, so I'll have to settle for someone else. It might as well be someone who cares about me. And Marc said he cares./

Glancing at the clock, Tristan saw it wasn't quite noon. He grabbed his keys off the counter and headed outside. He started his bike and headed for Yugi's.

If he was going to put his feelings for Joey aside, he might as well start now.

~*~*~*~*~

Tris: Great. Just great!

YD: Oh, come on!

Tris: Ppfftt.

DD: Well, it's not going to get better for you any time soon.

Tris: It's NEVER good for me!

Bakura: Get used to it, slim.

Ryou: When do `kura and I get to be in this story?

DD: Next chappie.

YD: But it ain't gonna be good.

DD: Well, we're off to the US tomorrow. We'll see you guys when we get back!