Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Voglia Di Dance All Night ❯ Way Away ( Chapter 3 )

Voglia Di Dance All Night

Chapter Three: Way Away

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It was a hot Sunday afternoon. Not sweltering like summer, but warm enough to make you sweat if you stayed outside for too long. In Egypt, autumn was usually like this.

Yami Mutou stepped out of the airport terminal. There was a black carry on in his right hand and he looked like any fashion designer should - a walking advertisement of his own clothing brand.

Taking off the small black sunglasses he wore over his eyes, he searched the room for any sign of his friend. He smiled when he noticed a black haired woman waving at him. Approaching her, he was slightly surprised when she ran over and hugged him tightly.

When she pulled away, she gave him a kiss on both cheeks. "Atemu, I've missed you."

Yami blushed slightly and returned the greeting. "I missed you too, Isis. I've missed home...how long was I gone for, anyways?" he asked.

"Almost two months," she chuckled. "So, what's America like? How was the meeting?"

"One question at a time!"

Isis smiled and they walked together towards the baggage claim. "Sorry. So what's America like?"

Yami grinned. "It was beautiful. New York was so cold! I had to buy some sweaters while I was there." This comment earned a laugh. "And the meeting went very well. My new clothing line has already been distributed to the US, Japan, and England. I tell you, Isis, they really seem to like my clothes."

The black haired woman held onto his arm tightly, making him slightly uncomfortable. "Why wouldn't they like them, Atemu? Your designs are all so stylish...I predict everyone will be wearing Hieroglyphics in the future."

The red eyed man chuckled. "I can only hope." After getting his suitcase off the luggage belt, he followed his friend out towards the parking lot. "So...how are the kids?" He questioned after a moment.

"They're doing fine. They're at Mariku and Malik's house right now," Isis explained as they reached her car.

"Poor kids," Yami joked. He got into the passenger's side of the car after putting his suitcase and carry on in the trunk. "I missed them a lot," he confessed after buckling his seatbelt.

"They miss you just as much. Sagira keeps asking me when `daddy' is coming home."

Yami's face paled and he fidgeted slightly. "Daddy? You didn't...?"

The blue eyed woman shook her head. "No, I didn't. But I will have to one day. I can't keep letting them believe that Shadi was their father. It hurts me to tell them that because not only is it not the truth, but because it makes me remember that he's dead...and of what we did before he died."

The younger adult pursed his lips and looked out the window. "You know how sorry I am about that. I never should have...if we hadn't..." he sighed. "I shouldn't have been so irresponsible."

Isis smiled sadly, staring at the steering wheel. "It wasn't exactly your fault. The blame is placed on both of us. We both acted immaturely." She swallowed the lump in her throat and blinked away the tears that were slowly forming in her eyes. "We were both so heartbroken back then. Shadi had been in the hospital because of his disease...and your love abandoned you...and we just were drawn to each other because of that. But that doesn't mean we should pretend our affair never happened...We can never forget because we have two kids now as the consequence of it."

Yami nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry. I should be there more often for them."

"You're right, you should."

The ride back to Mariku and Malik's house was relatively quiet. When the car pulled into the driveway, the door automatically opened and two young children came running outside.

"Daddy, daddy!"

A small blonde haired girl raced over and leapt into Yami's arms, giggling as he ruffled her hair. "Hey, Sagira. How have you been?" He asked her, placing a kiss on her cheek.

Sagira gave him a kiss back, her small arms clutching his neck. "I missed daddy!" She answered.

A boy with spiky blonde hair and purple eyes stuck his tongue out. "He isn't our daddy, you know." he said to his sister.

"So?"

Yami rolled his eyes and put Sagira back on the ground. She clung onto his leg. "Hi Mosi," he greeted the little boy with a grin. He held his hand out for a high five as Mosi came over. "How've you been?"

Mosi shrugged his shoulders and, after giving Yami the biggest high five he could muster, grinned widely. "It's boring staying at home with mommy all day. She doesn't take us out or anything like you do!"

The tri haired man chuckled. "Well, I'll just have to hang around here with you guys more often, hm?"

The small children cheered loudly and held on tightly to both of his legs. Isis, who had been talking to her brothers, came over and embraced her children. "Are you ready to go home?"

Sagira and Mosi nodded, each grabbing one of Yami's hands and dragging him inside to help them get their things. Smiling, the Egyptian woman watched after them. She sighed. `We could be such a happy family. Sagira and Mosi need a father...they need their father. I don't know why Yami wants to hide the fact that he's their father. They will find out one day. They love him so much and miss him when he's gone for these stupid fashion shows and meetings....I miss him too. I love him so much and I know he loves me too, deep down. Why is he so afraid of commitment? Why won't he just ask me to marry him?! He's brought it up already...'

The three came back outside a few minutes later. Now Sagira was on Yami's back, her chubby arms holding him around the neck. Mosi was walking ahead of them and carrying his and his sister's little rolling suitcase in his hands. Yami stopped walking when he noticed the sad expression on Isis' face. Taking a step forward, he asked if something was wrong.

"No...I'm fine..." Opening the car door, she got in and buckled her seatbelt. `I need to talk to him later...about this. If he refuses, I don't know what I'll do.'

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That night, Yami sat on his bed, half clad in his pajamas and flipping through the stack of mail that had come in for him while he was in America. Small reading glasses were perched on his nose and the bedside lamp was switched on so he wouldn't strain his eyes in the dark.

"Junk, junk, bill, junk, magazine, bill, junk, junk..."

Sighing loudly, he got up and threw the unwanted mail into the trash bin next to his desk on the opposite side of the room. Sitting back his bed, he looked through the bills, grimacing as he did so. Picking up one of the letters from the stack, he quirked an eyebrow at the return address.

`Domino City, Japan'

Shrugging his shoulders, he tore the envelope open. Pulling out a card, he scanned it briefly before flipping it open.

Mr. Atemu (Yami) Mutou,

On behalf of Domino High School, I, Fuku Chiyo, would like to personally invite you to the class of 1994's 10 year high school reunion! The reunion will be held on November 24th at Shimahoshi Hall. Please R.S.V.P. to the number below by October 12th. I and the other graduates of 1994 hope to see you there!
Sincerely,
Fuku Chiyo.

(663) 468-9264

PS: If you need directions to Shimahoshi Hall, either call me or e-mail me at: FukuChiyo @ yahoo. Com

Yami's eyes widened. High school reunion? He put the invitation on his nightstand. He would have to think about that. It would be nice to go and see all his old friends again. And just to be in Japan...he hadn't been there since he first started designing clothes seven years ago. Right before...Isis got pregnant.

"I don't know if I could leave Sagira and Mosi again for another month or so. They always hate it when I leave. And Isis gets upset and I hate when she's mad at me because she's my best friend...."

He lay back on the covers, closing his eyes and placing his hands over his face. `No, that's not the real reason...' he thought. `You don't care if Isis gets upset. You just don't want to see her again. Isn't that right?' Yami didn't answer himself for a moment. He removed his hands from his face and stared at them sadly. `Isn't that right?' His mind asked once more.

Curling his fingers into his palms, he hissed slightly as his sharp nails scraped across the vulnerable flesh.

`You don't want to see her...she doesn't care about you anymore. She never answered your letters, never called, and never e-mailed you. Nothing. She doesn't love you, anymore. But you don't want to accept that, do you? That's why you don't want to go. You don't want to face the humiliation of seeing her again and still being in love with her.'

Yami sighed. "Yes..."

`Are you going to go?'

He shrugged his shoulders and sat up a bit, resting his back against the headboard of his bed. He reopened his hands and frowned when seeing they were a little scratched.

`Are you going to go? Are you going to see her again? Are you going to face that humiliation?'

He shook his head, becoming that meek, scared teenager that he used to be all those years ago. "No...I can't," he whispered. "I don't want to see her again. But... then again, I want to see her more than anything. Just to look at her, for even a moment. Even if she hates me, even if she looks at me with antipathy." He smirked and nodded to himself, brushing away the feelings of anxiety and fear. "This is something I need to do."

`So you're actually going to go?'

Yami nodded to himself, opening the drawer of his nightstand and taking out a picture of a pretty brunette girl. He held it close to him and his eyes re-memorized the face of the girl. "Yes...I'm going," he declared.

A knock on the door made the fashion designer jump slightly. He hurriedly placed the picture back in the drawer and reached for his shirt which lay on the edge of the bed. Before he could even put it on, the door opened and Isis came inside. Yami smiled sheepishly at her and threw the top over his head.

She chuckled and came over, sitting next to him on the bed. "What have you been doing up here by yourself?" she questioned. The younger adult motioned to the stack of bills on the bed in front of him. "Oh, fun."

"Always," he replied with a small laugh. Turning his crimson eyes onto the Egyptian woman, Yami raised a questioning eyebrow. "Is there something wrong? You seem upset."

Isis looked away from him for a moment. "Well, I've just been thinking a lot while you were away." She toyed with the ribbon on her peach colored nightgown. "Sagira and Mosi...they...they need a father...."

The tri haired man sighed. "Didn't we talk about this earlier? I said I'd try to be here more often."

"That isn't what I mean," the black haired woman interrupted. "They need their father. They can't go on thinking that Shadi was their father because it's just a lie. They'll know one day that I lied to them about that."

"Isis, I don't understand."

She glared at him. "They are children. They need their birth father. They need to know that's you, Yami." Yami rolled his eyes. Isis put her hands on his chest. "I don't get why you're like this! I mean, you've lived here ever since they were born and they already call you `daddy'...Why can't we just become a real family, Yami? We're already so close to that!" She laid her head under his neck, her hair tickling his chin slightly.

Yami placed an arm around her waist and shook his head negatively. "I can't marry you, Isis. I just can't."

"And why not?!" She yelled, tears spilling from her ocean blue eyes.

"Because I don't love you that way!" He bit his lip at the hurt expression on her face. "You know that I don't. What we had was...it was like a fling. You didn't love me and I didn't love you but we needed each other then."

"But I need you now! I love you, Yami!"

Yami looked away from her. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, hanging his head. "I really am. But I don't want to ruin our friendship. I see you as my best friend, as a sister even...but not as a wife. You have to understand that. Us getting married would only make things more complicated."

Isis sniffed and raised her head up, kissing him hard on the lips. When he didn't make an effort to return it, she got up from the bed and ran out of the bedroom crying.

Scarlet eyes closed heavily. "I'm so sorry, Isis." Yami reached back over to his nightstand and picked up the picture of his old girlfriend from the drawer. "But I'm still very much in love with Anzu."

From outside the door, Isis heard him. And a new wave of tears overcame her.

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