Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Urgency of Life ❯ falling 4.0 ( Chapter 4 )

The Urgency of Life

A Seto/Joey fanfic by subaruxkamui4ever

Yeah…this is finally beginning to approach getting ready to become close to the level of sadness I want to achieve. Not quite there yet. But still, onward we march, towards the goal of the ultimate Sad Ness! Please, everyone, if you're still clinging to the happy-ending theory, please release now! There is a 99.9999998 percent chance of character-death, although I'm still not sure who. Just call me Mr. Vague, indeed. Ahem. Joey. We think you may have a problem. This is called an intervention… (AN: there will be no intervention for poor Joey. Rest assured we won't interfere. We love to watch him destroy himself slowly, we thinks this is romantical…….)

falling. . . . …………………….. . .

Every day following that one before, the one I described, the day that went on forever, and each one after it was nearly the same. I was falling victim to dependency still, only I wasn't alone anymore. And still I fell. I wanted it, needed it, I loved it! It was worth all the trouble it caused me. And nothing within me changed, for nearly an entire month. This addiction I housed became larger, not noticeably at first, but before long I realized that what I had bought to last me for the whole month was nearly spent in it's entirety. A whole week early. I hadn't noticed it at all, but there was no other explanation. I had done them all myself. My lines were getting longer, a bit thicker, but the after effects of these seemingly tiny changes manifested themselves with a vengeance. I had no cash, no way of getting any on such short notice. And enough to get me through three more days, if used sparingly. I had no idea what to do. Usually I'd get the money through my father, stealing a bit here and there throughout the weeks, asking for a bit here and there, until finally I'd produce the amount I needed. One hundred and fifty dollars. For a seventeen-year-old boy such as myself, this was in no way considered pocket change. Frankly, I was extremely proud that I had been able to keep that up. But I lived with Seto now. And while I was happier than I had ever been by far, the old ways of acquiring cash no longer applied. Three days. I felt the weight of everything that threatened to fall from underneath me, all of it on my shoulders. Mentally, I was running, tearing through the pathways of my mind, desperate to escape what I knew I'd have to turn around and face, alone. Soon.

I would have to ask Seto for help.

Everything I did around him recently made me feel like the most insensitive person alive. I tried so hard to spend every spare moment I could with him, and we did do most everything together, but he, while having nothing but the best intentions, spent most of our time together playing `take care of Joey'. Which, as it happens, I really needed. I had been severely careless with my health and well being before he took me in. He realized within a few hours of my having moved it, that I ate three, perhaps four times a week My only other source of intake was inhuman amounts of soda, and full package of antacid pills per week. Before long, he had me eating once, sometimes twice in a day. The drug killed my appetite as always, but I began to train my body to feel hunger regardless of what I was on. Not to say that he treated me like a child, nor did I see him as any sort of caretaker. It was just that he noticed things about me that others always seemed to miss. Always missed, perhaps, because they weren't in fact looking for anything at all. I did my best to return all these favors to him, and he saw my efforts, but this…relationship, you might call it, that we were in, called for very specific players to play very specific roles within its structure. Roles both he and I fit into quite well. We were exceptionally compatible with each other, especially when it came to playing house, which amazes me to this day why we didn't see it sooner. Our life in his house was happy. Happy may not seem like a very expressive word to describe the rightness I felt being next to him at all times, but it was a feeling I had been searching for. And this was the only place I was ever able to find it, so I give it the proper credit it deserves. He and I were happy. We never discussed what may or may not be happening between us, why should we? Why dissect something to give it a name and a purpose when everything already fit so well together? We both felt that the other was on the same wavelength at all times, ever and always connected by our simple closeness. The idea of `my room' had been abandoned long ago, he and I shared the same room. There was no reason why we should remain separate whilst sleeping, when it was obvious that we spent every waking moment together, or in the pursuit of being together. It was a happy feeling that we shared, that we refused to give a name, lest we tarnish it with human contact and, inevitably, human error.

As our lives slowly, but still rather quickly, became closer to resembling one solid, whole life, the time approached me alone. The hour when I needed to buy more. It was a simple task, easy enough to accomplish, but it represented much more than it actually was. It was a sale, that was all. But it was also a contract. An emotionally and physically binding contract that demanded of the user a chunk of their unused life, in exchange for the contents of the bag, which they could use to fill in the empty holes left after the damage had been calculated and subtracted from their lifepoints. However long it took to finish off the bag, those moments were immediately confiscated, never to be felt or had, seen nor experienced. And I still continued. But I had reached the last day of my previous agreement, and needed to strike up another deal soon. Since my tolerance was still slowly building, there was no doubt that the next one would go even quicker than the one preceding. I was fresh out of ideas. My only monetary resource was gone, I had left it behind. I never wanted for a single thing now that Seto was around, he made absolutely sure of that, but I desperately did not want to ask him to contribute to this. I had so far been able to keep his hands completely clean, and I was determined that he stay that way. This was a part of my life that I could never share with him. All he could do was try to pick up the pieces of myself that I so casually tossed around and shattered, as though they were nothing to me. It was all he could do. I knew that it drove him mad with worry. I saw what it did to him inside. I wondered why I didn't stop, if only for his sake. I knew how deeply I cared for him, but why was I not able to treat him better than this? He deserved so much more, but he saw nothing of it. I was his only concern, his never-ending source of concern and worry. Still, I knew he would do any thing I asked of him, simple or impossible, which is why I made a habit of never asking him for anything. I never wanted him to feel as though his money mattered to me in any conceivable way, so I pretended he didn't have any. Once before, I had asked him for money at school in the cafeteria, because upon arriving I realized I'd brought nothing to eat with me. He handed over more than enough without a second glance, and when I apologized several times, promising to never let it happen again, he just watched me calmly, and, when I had finished, he said that I could forget my lunch every day on purpose if I wanted, and that he never wanted to hear me apologize to him ever again. I really felt bad about that, even to this day.

I decided that I would just ask him already. I would explain myself, and tell him about how I used to get the money, and how I couldn't anymore, because of the move. And I wanted him to know how much better my life was here with him, I would never go back there, not even to ask for money. Which led me to where I came in, full circle. He was at work, right at that moment, but he would be home within the hour. I promised myself that I would talk to him about it tonight, as soon as he got home. Waiting for him, however, proved to be a completely different matter. I had a tendency to think of the worst possible results for all involved scenarios, and play them over and over in my mind, until I was certain that all life was truly in vain. Seto understood this, however, and could instantly recognize when I had spent all day getting myself worked up over nothing. He always found it so amusing that I had spent hours coming up with all kinds of random and unrelated information, and then fused it all together into a nightmare that only I could be terrified of. He especially loved to have me explain to him exactly what it was that had me so completely stricken, and then try and guess at what the original problem may have been. "Humph," I slumped against the couch, making a frustrated noise at the idea of Seto making fun of my wild imagination, once again. I didn't much time to pout.

I heard the front door open, and then close moments later. I stayed where I was, lying back on the couch in the next room over. I was facing the doorway, so I was the first thing he saw when he came through. Finding me awaiting his return, he smiled and sat down next to me, leaning his head back and to the side, against the pillows on the back of the couch. Our faces were looking squarely into each other's, about a foot apart. Neither one of us were anything but completely comfortable with the situation. It was what I had to tell him that scared me so much. "What did you do all day," he asked me? I cringed, not wanting to tell him that I had spent it worrying about this very moment. "Not too much…I had some stuff I had to think about…nothing exciting…" I trailed off, hoping it would sound casual, but somehow knowing it would give me away immediately. Hearing the underlying tones in my voice that only he would be able pick out, he turned his whole frame on the couch until he was sitting cross-legged on one cushion, directly facing me, and my telltale face. It was already red across both cheeks, but I couldn't help but feel embarrassed that I was so easy to read, even if only to him. "Uh-huh…" was all he said to me, as he followed my eyes with his own. Finally I looked at him directly in the face and caved. "OK, fine, I need to talk to you. It's really important, but I don't want you to be mad at me!" Seto, who had been on the verge of laughter, stopped momentarily to look at me, right into my eyes, and he only said one thing.

"There isn't a single thing you could do to possibly make me angry with you. It will never happen. So there aren't anymore reasons for you to be afraid of me. All right…?" he trailed off, waiting for my agreement. I nodded wistfully, hoping that he would feel the same after he found out what I had to say. "OK, I'll just…just tell you then…I guess. See, I used to get money from around my house, and my father would give me some, if I asked him at the right times, and I'd do stuff for people around, you know, the apartments. I'd get all kinds of money, all the time. And I can't go back there anymore. Not that I'd ever want to! My life here is so good, I never want to leave! And I never think about how you've got all kinds of money lying around, because I don't need it! Well when I say don't I-"

"Shut up" A hand clasped my jaw shut, I couldn't make another sound, which I'm sure was the point. I nodded slightly in response, hoping that he'd meant it when he said he wasn't going to be mad. "You are rambling incoherently about how you used to acquire `all kinds of money' and how you do not any longer. I'm assuming that all of this was eventually going to lead to something resembling a solid conversation, however, it won't be necessary. I've been waiting for you to bring this up, but I didn't realize that you would put it off for this long. You really wanted to keep me out of this forever, didn't you?"

I nodded under his hand, which stayed on my mouth, so I couldn't interrupt him, another bad habit of mine. My eyes were fixated on his, and the sadness I felt at having to involve him in yet another burden of my own doing was clearly evident in them. I couldn't hold them back much longer, and eventually one of the tears escaped and trickled down the side of my face, stopped halfway by the hand that covered my mouth. He released my face only just in time for me to fall into his arms, which closed tightly around my slim waist, worn thin from months of habitual drug use. I pressed my face into his collarbone, and hid my arms between my chest and his, curling them up around the outline of his frame. He brought one hand up to brush the hair away from my eyes, and he leaned his face into my ear and finished telling me what he had to say. "I know you have no income, it's a pretty obvious fact. I also know that what you need costs money. Money that you can't get anymore, which is actually my fault, for moving you over here. So I've already made the necessary arrangements. From now on, you'll only have to go through me. Is that all right?"

All the tears I had were for him, and how cruelly I allowed myself to treat him. Why the hell did he keep me around? I was nothing but trouble for him. I couldn't do a thing for anyone but myself, and I wouldn't even do that. I was content to watch myself rot away, and he was the only one who ever made me feel bad for it. I needed him to a frightening extent, but there wasn't a single thing I could do for him in return. No, I even became a burden him as well, draining his life away just as slowly as I drained my own. But even now, he wouldn't be rid of me. He chose me. Over everything that thousands upon millions of `normal people' could give to him, he chose instead to have me take from him. But however much I despised myself for it, I couldn't tear myself away from him. Lying with my full weight upon him, I cried and cried. There weren't enough tears in the world for the both of us. He knew why I cried, and he didn't like for me to feel sorry for him, but he didn't try to stop me for anything. He let me cry until I had no more tears left, and still he kept me there beside him as I slowly began to breath normally, not disturbing me for a moment. When I regained control of my voice, I turned my face just slightly so that my mouth wasn't pressed directly on his shoulder, and tilting my face upwards, I spoke softly near his ear.

" I cannot leave you. You said yourself that the only way I can leave this place is when Death takes me. You are the lost piece of my life, and there isn't anything left for me out there. I love you more than life itself. But I need to tell you this once, and I'll never say it again. I am very sorry for what I have done to your life. I know that I have nothing to give, and constantly need to take, but I never once felt ashamed or wrong for it until I met you. You are the only person in my life that I feel the need to apologize for, so I'm doing it now. Please, don't ever forget that."

falling… . . . .. i continue . to .. fall . …. .. deeper…

AN: I'm so sad all the time, blah, blah, blah. Ha! I revel in your misery! This is so romantic! I can barely stand it! It has recently been brought to my attention that maybe, just maybe, I am the only one here who actually finds this sort of story to be romantic. I confess, I think that Joey being hopelessly addicted to drugs and dying, whilst Seto struggles with the fact that he will be alone forever after Joey kills himself, so, hopelessly romantic. Ahhh, I sigh contentedly. And poor Seto, he's desperately living his life day by day, never losing hope that someday, Joey will get better and they'll stay together forever! But that wouldn't be romantic at all. This is where I come in. In order to make it more romantic, we'll give Seto even more hope for the future, so his entire spirit is crushed, along with his life and his mind, after I rip Joey away from his mortal coil even earlier than originally planned! It's perfect! This may or may not happen, by the way. It's ultimately up to the boys. Let's see if they're gluttons for punishment.