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

Warnings: This contains YAOI. Be warned, and please leave if the thought of homosexuality sickens you. Unfortunately, my writing skills are nothing extraordinary, so do forgive if it's not satisfactory.

I've posted this sometime ago, but I had to take it down to do some revisions. I hope this one's better than the first.

+++

"Sir, the representative of Brant company wishes to discuss--"

Seto contorted his body as the cell phone attempted to slip from between his shoulder and neck.

"Have the meeting cancelled tomorrow," he ordered.

"Is there anything else, sir?"

The momentary pause was deliberate, and had he been talking to someone else and not his secretary, one would think that Seto does that just to throw people off. He was very careful in assessing his options, his next move. And with a life that was comparable to a chess game, every move, every step must be thoroughly calculated to perfection.

One wrong move and a chain of loss could soon ensue.

"Cancel all my appointments for the week. I have important matters to attend to." Swift, sharp and commanding; his words were always straight to the point, leaving no room for further argument. Very much similar to his adoptive father's tone; the same cold, clear voice that never needed to shout to get the point across, to be followed.

"How about the convention at America?"

"I'm not attending that, either."

One would probably think that he gets off on the entire fun of ordering his staff around-- which was pretty much an accurate observation, although he would never, ever, admit that openly.

"Okay."

"And inform no one of my whereabouts. Is that understood?"

"Crystal, sir."

Seto hung up the phone, feeling strangely relieved. And it's quite-- symbolic, really, the more he thought about it. Leaving everything behind, even for just a small time. Being unable to communicate with had a certain charm to him, feeling like being liberated after caged for a long while.

And before a minute has even passed, Seto's out by his front door, the jingling of keys echoing on his wake.

++

It's been raining for hours. Drizzle turning to rain, then to downpour under the short span of an hour, and the ground went from hard to mud just as quick. City lights were glittering dots on the car's windshield, blurred by droplets as they fell about noiselessly. The wiper steadily does its job, swinging left and right to clear his view outside for a short while.

There's the soft hum coming from the stereo, lulling him away by the minute. Classical music; most people around his age would probably look at him like he was something extraterrestrial if they knew that bit of information.

This was reprieve, a momentary rest, and he'd be a damn liar if he claimed that he didn't need any of it.

He's only human, after all.

A soft 'click' and the door opens, letting in stray droplets to fall to his face. Harsh; the night wind was biting, and he couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through his skin.

Moment of sense argues that he should close the door and head back home, and return some other time. He should have bothered to at least bring with him an umbrella. He'd only get wet, or risk getting sick, and--

Fuck sensibility. Sixteen years of being in control, of being sensible entitles him to a least a night of insanity.

He steps out of the car, shutting the door as an afterthought. Mud smudges his shoes, his expensive shoes, and he doesn't care. Brief images of the horrified looks from his cleaning staff flashed on his mind's eye, and it struck him as something immensely funny.

Warm droplets fell in gentle synch, trailing to his face, down his neck before seeping through the soft material of his shirt. His trench coat lay forgotten inside the car, so the shirt he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. It was now devoid of warmth it once had provided.

The walk was uneventful, as though he had done this thousand of times before. The sound of his footsteps broke in the monotony as they splashed through the many puddles that had formed.

A few more steps before he came to a halt.

Odd, he had never imagined being reduced to this-- ever. People thought he was the epitome of an ice sculpture; beautiful to behold, chilling to the touch. They never thought even for once, that perhaps he could still feel something. That he was not a cold-blooded and unfeeling creature that they had always imagined.

If he was the unfeeling creature that they had pegged him for, then he would not have bothered coming here in the first place. He would not have let a simple detail like a dead relative trouble him.

The white stone stood regally in front of him, graceful curve sculpted etched smooth surface.

Lithe fingers trace the inscription, memorizing every outline and every curl, like the memory would disappear once he let go. In elegant flourish, the script read:

"Happy birthday, Mokuba," Seto said, his lips taking a small hint enough to be a smile.

"It's me," he continued talking, as though Mokuba could really hear him. "Sorry for being late."

Probably disturbing that he was doing this, but sanity was overrated anyway, and it felt-- natural. Like back on the days when they still talked about things, some of which were trivial, while the others, serious. Mokuba was always vocal to his feelings, eager to share a piece of his mind. He complemented Seto's laconic manner.

"I wanted to come sooner," Seto brushed off the dirt on the epitaph. "But I was busy with work."

See? He consoled himself, nothing has changed.

Except for the fact that there were no more bright smiles to behold, no pleased remarks to be heard, and-- no warm, affectionate embrace to be savored. No family to share his victories, his triumphs.

What's the point of living, then? A traitorous little side of him would always ask, especially when he was left alone in his thoughts. And the idea was too seductive, teasing him on how it would be much easier to just-- end it all. If not for the promise he made with Mokuba...

"But that doesn't matter. I'm here."

The mansion was now quiet, too. Somewhat desolate. Of course, it has always been quiet before, as Seto had always preferred silence in order to concentrate fully on his work. But the stillness was so stifling, so tangible that Seto could not help but notice.

"I miss you, you know."

The lack of response was expected, but for some inexplicable reason, it pained him just the same. He would never hear Mokuba's voice again. The realization that his brother was gone still struck him with the same equal force, the same feeling-- there was disbelief, anger and finally, sorrow.

"I have a present for you." Seto said as he knelt down, "I know, I know. I should have given this to you sooner." He fished out a card from his pocket and looked at it with uncharacteristic fondness before placing it on top of the stone.

"You'd better take care it. I like that card." This was a year of pain, and a year of acceptance; it was necessary to have a conclusion to a particular chapter of his life. He needed this, wanted this, before he could finally start again.

"Remember the promise?" he glanced at the card, now wrinkled and soaked with rain water. "the one you asked me that day?"

This is it; now or never, take it or leave it. Had the choice been easy, he would have decided earlier. But it took him a year, and perhaps it's for-- the best. He had all the time on the world to think about it, and he knew, that in the long run he would just give in. He could never deny Mokuba anything.

"I'm going to keep it. Just for you."

+

A shadow appeared from behind and Seto immediately tensed.

"Who is it?"

There was an unexpected silence that followed, and Seto wondered if this was one of Pegasus' agents, still pursuing him in another attempt to claim KaibaCorp. If so, then the bastard definitely underestimated him; he will never go down without a fight.

He didn't turn to face the stranger although his body was poised to lash out at the slightest provocation. "I said, who are--"

"It's me."

"Yami?" Surprise was clearly evident in his voice. Seto stood up immediately, casting a wary glance at his long-time rival. Beside him, Yami held an umbrella steadily, shielding both of them from the rain. "What are you doing here?"

Same face; the young man who stood in front of him, with features that could pass as Yugi's twin, hadn't changed a bit. It was the same calm, defined face that never trembled in the face of a challenge.

The same face that he could not defeat-- whether in a duel, or in real life.

It's a damn small world.

"It's Mokuba's birthday, isn't it?" A question in response to another question was never sufficient; Seto always preferred to get the point delivered clearly, and not in vague statements.

"It is," Wariness still present, like he expected Yami to strike him. It was highly unlikely, though; Yami may be vicious and all in dueling, but he was never, ever violent. He probably wouldn't even dare try to hurt someone even when provoked. Always calm, reasonable-- stop, and since when did he start to analyze Yami in such a manner? "That does not explain your presence here, of all places."

"What about you? What are you doing here?"

Seto shot him an annoyed look. Talk about being dense. And stupid. "Well, in case you've conveniently failed to realize, I'm his brother. I'm here for a visit."

"Hmm." Yami gave him a once over then shrugged, "Is it part of your visit to come here and get all drenched?"

Seto's eyes narrowed; he had detected a flicker of unholy amusement on Yami's eyes. "Shut it, will you? I just uh-- forgot to bring an umbrella with me." Did he just stammer? The cold was probably starting to affect his brain. Nonetheless, the reason why didn't have an umbrella was insignificant; forgot to bring, didn't have the time, haven't thought about it sooner, what's the difference, anyway?

"Sure."

"Avoiding the question will get you nowhere. Either you'll explain why you are here, or just turn around and get lost."

"I'm here for the same reasons, too."

"You're-- why?" Confusion. Seto has never been good in figuring things that were related to human affairs.

"You really don't have a clue?"

Yami had the temerity to show his amusement. And it was more disorienting, especially upon the knowledge that it was directed to him. Seto couldn't decide if he'd punch the young man square on the face or if he'd share the somewhat private joke between them. Probably both.

It was like they were good friends, which was very peculiar, given the rather extended time Seto had devoted just to see Yami defeated. Crushed.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have to ask."

Yami shook his head. "Ever heard of the word 'friend'? Is it wrong to visit Mokuba on his birthday?"

Yes. No. Seto groped for words that would end the conversation, not wanting to discuss matters that were unfamiliar to him. Yami said that he was Mokuba's friend, and that could be a logical reason. Seto didn't have the time to make real friends himself, and he didn't even know how it was supposed to work.

Perhaps caring was part of friendship, too.

"No."

"Yugi and his friends came here earlier if you're wondering why I'm alone."

"I'm not wondering." Seto gave him a smirk. "And I couldn't care less." The gesture was enough as a permission, saying between the lines that his presence was tolerated, though not totally welcomed.

Yami smirked back at him, and Seto knew he understood.

+

The rain stopped for good, and the moon was now peering out of ragged clouds before submerging again. For a long moment Seto remained still, the pensive quiet falling between them. Neither of them shared a word to each other, basking in the somewhat awkward companionship that the meeting offered.

"--right?"

Seto realized that he had spaced out for quite a while, and that Yami was asking him about something.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you alright?"

"Of course," Seto replied nonchalantly, caught off-guard. "why wouldn't I be?"

The intense stare he received was unsettling. Like he was being scrutinized thoroughly, and his feelings could be read like an open book. He had never met a person capable of doing that besides his brother.

"You're lying."

And the truth stung like he had been slapped on the face. How dare this man just waltz in and act as though he had known him for a long time? No one had the right to get involved with his feelings, especially when that someone should only be considered nothing but a foe.

"It's the truth," he ground out, glaring at him. "Believe what you want."

Silence.

"Do you blame yourself for Mokuba's death?"

Seto shifted his stance as though he had betrayed something vital. "You don't have the right to ask me that," he hedged. It was a give-away that his voice was slightly forced and that he could not look at Yami straight in the eye.

"You don't have to answer that, either." Yami looked at him-- almost in sympathy. But never pity. It was a relief when he realized that he will not be mocked for the momentarily slip to show a vulnerable side. Rivals were supposed to exploit weaknesses for their own gain, but Yami did not do any of it.

"Then why did you ask?"

"Because your eyes," Yami pointed out to him like he was talking about something obvious. "speak volumes."

Had Seto been drinking something, he would have definitely choked in it. Yami's words were probably the most awkward and inappropriate thing to say given their current situation. Awkward, inappropriate, ridiculous...

"Oh?" Flippancy has always been a good diversion. "And what, pray tell, does my eyes tell you?"

"Why don't you tell me yourself?"

"Very well," Seto sneered at him. "Since you asked, it's saying that you are 'far too nosey and that you should mind your own damn business.'"

Yami flinched as if he had been struck. There was time when he would have definitely felt pleasure, would have felt so smug upon seeing that he had finally caused Yami pain. There was a time when he would have definitely felt no remorse--none at all-- after lashing out to someone. Only--

He couldn't feel any of it now.

No one ever made him feel like he had robbed a church, like he had destroyed something extremely valuable and holy.

Perhaps he was losing his touch.

"It's easier to ignore things, isn't it?"

Their somewhat philosophical discussion had to stop. It would probably end up going around in circles if he didn't do, or say anything to stop it.

"You don't know me," Seto retorted, which was true; only Mokuba knew that real him. And he's -- gone. "so don't you fucking dare act like you do."

The calmness that greeted his sudden outburst was unexpected; it was as though Yami had enough practice with similar situations and he was handling this one with relative ease.

"I never claimed to know you." Yami paused, before adding, "I just wanted to know what's on your mind."

"Never mess with my head, Yami. You'll only end up getting hurt." Hurt? Since when did he start to mind other people's feelings?

"Try me."

Seto remained silent, at loss of words. The anger he had felt earlier suddenly vanished, leaving him more-- confused? Empty? He couldn't really tell.

"Do I blame myself for what happened to my brother?" Seto broke the silence, deciding to let go-- just this once. "Yes. No. Does it really matter?" Ah, the bitterness was still there, familiar and still burning like a year had not passed. He had often wondered where that feeling went, and if he was really capable of moving on. "I can't control everything. I'm not a god to do that."

He can never control everything. That admission was enough to crush him.

The doctors, shaking their heads in defeat--

--his brother, crying out in pain--

--his brother, pale and weak, lying on the bed--

--his brother, dying--

--his brother, cold and motionless in his arms--

--his brother, gone.

Yes, he can never control everything. Even with all the money that he had, it was not enough to save Mokuba.

Back then, he wanted to scream, or sob, or tear his own hair out, something to release the fear that kept building in him. For the first time in his life, Seto had felt helplessness, a new and distressing emotion to deal with.

Minutes passed with ease, like sand inside an hourglass. The lack of words to fill the deafening silence was enough for Seto.

A hand gently touched his shoulder; soft, kneading, comforting and a thousand other words that he could not define. He tensed under the contact, unsure on how to receive the gesture. No one had offered him this before.

"It's okay."

Simple words and it meant a lot to him. He was being offered solace, finally. Probably a year too late for that, and someone should have offered him at least something, anything that day, to alleviate the pain. No one even tried to say 'it's going to be alright', and one year was enough to have everything fester until it cannot be contained anymore.

But Yami said 'it's okay', and it felt like everything was-- released.

"T--thank you." For listening. For just staying there.

Something shone on Yami's eyes, and it dawned to Seto what it was and what it stood for. He had to be blind not to notice it, not to acknowledge it.

Understanding.

And god, this was closure, and no one ever told him it was that easy. No one had ever told him that this was how it's done, that this was how things were supposed to be. No one told him that letting go was easy, especially when you have someone to help you out.

Because Yami made him realize, that no matter how many times he tried to push him away, there's someone bound to care for him. He still cared.

"Say a word about our talk to your friends and I'll kill you." Seto said, although the threat held no venom in it. Perhaps he could learn to understand this new-- twist on their relationship. It was intriguing to say the least.

Yami snorted. "I'd like to see you try."

Seto glanced at his wristwatch. Nine o'clock. "So."

"So."

He never imagined that they would someday play the waiting game. No words were volleyed to fill the gap of silence, and it was becoming far too tangible with every passing minute.

"I guess I'd better get going."

"Sure."

Looking at Yami, it would be very easy to say goodbye now. Easy and perhaps inevitable, and it would be much easier to pretend that this night never happened at all. They could go on with their lives and play their respective roles once more. Rivals.

Yet.

"Wait."

Yami stopped on his tracks, giving him an inquiring glance. Maybe this was the right time, and he needed the answers desperately. Is there anything in life worth living for?

Besides, he didn't want to be alone on this night.

"Stay with me. For a while."

The smile was slow, rich and beautiful that it hurts. No one had ever smiled that way for him.

"Okay."

+

Seto shifted a gear, and the engine adjusted without effort. The asphalt road lay clear ahead of him, and very few vehicles passed on intervals.

The night was still young; the headlights and the moon guiding the path.

He chances a glance at Yami, sitting on the passenger seat, staring at the passing scenery with quiet interest.

The road led to an expanse of green, a far cry from the city that Seto had grown accustomed to. Skyscrapers from the Metropolis could not be seen anywhere, just trees. Lush trees lined gracefully, and moonlight peeked over the spaces between the leaves.

"Fascinating view, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Is this your first time to go out?"

Yami paused, thinking. "No," A yawn. It was --weird to see Yami do things so common like yawning. Hell, Yami's mere presence with him, on the car, was weirder. "But the view here is far more interesting."

"It is."

Seto could hear another yawn. Yami, sitting only a few feet away from him made the entire situation more surreal. He remembered the first time he brought Mokuba to this place, and his reactions were similar to that of Yami's. So naïve, so innocent that he couldn't help but be drawn into it.

So happy that he could not help but feel the same.

He turned a lever and Yami's seat shifted backwards. The latter gave a surprised gasp, like something extraordinary had just occurred. Maybe he should pay attention to Yami's quirks a lot more. It was-- endearing to watch, and Seto couldn't help but smile. "Scared?"

"Er," An embarrassed flush tinged Yami's cheeks. Odd. "I'm just unused to modern technology, that's all."

"Unused to what?" Seto was becoming more and more talkative because of him, and he couldn't care less. Yami doesn't seem to mind, so why should he?

"Modern technology." Casually, Yami continued like he was merely talking about the weather. "After being trapped in a puzzle, I need a lot of catching up to do."

So. The stories he overheard about Yami coming from a different time was true, after all. He recalled the mutt blabbering about it some time ago, although he merely brushed it off as another figment of the imagination. For all he knew, Joey was probably reading too many comic books to say such things.

But coming from Yami. It was... interesting. Maybe he could ask him things later. But for now...

"Rest," he told Yami, looking at him from the corner of his eye. "You look exhausted."

"Where are we going?"

Finally. Seto wondered if Yami would never ask him that. After all they've managed to talk about on the past half hour, the topic of their destination was never brought up. It was a pretty much a logical question, one that demanded a perfectly logical answer. At once.

"I'll tell you when we get there."

+

"My real father used to bring us here."

They sat together, beside a lake, staring thoughtfully in the dark water. Surprisingly, the grass carpeted ground had managed to remain somewhat dry, and the temperature had closed pleasantly through the night. Like it did not rain on the place at all.

"You like this place a lot?" Yami asked.

"We used to come here every weekends," Seto replied wistfully, remembering selected memories of what he had so many years ago. "It's-- fun."

He remembered fishing on the lake with his father, and his mother, cradling Mokuba, watching them. He remembered playing with the dried leaves that fell from the trees during autumn. He remembered watching the frozen lake at the closing of winter as it sparkled like diamonds were scattered everywhere. The scorching summer heat and dragonflies that flew up and about...

Seto remembered it all. And it was more than fun.

"You miss them, don't you?" Soft, not prodding for immediate answers, like he knew how sensitive the topic was. Seto wondered if changing over night was even possible. It seemed like Yami could now read him easily.

"I don't really remember much," Lie; he merely chose to forget those memories. Made it easier to alleviate the pain. "But-- I guess so."

"I miss mine, too."

Naked yearning was easy to detect, and now he could see it. Yami had that faraway look in his eyes, like he was caught with fond memories on his time. In truth, they were more than alike, sharing the same fate one way or the other. They were now both alone, with no family to come home to. No loved ones to create new memories with.

Only...

"Yami?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you come with me?" He needed some confirmation, a tangible proof. "I mean, we're not even friends. So... Why?"

"Does everything have to have a reason?"

Seto stared directly at those brilliant eyes. "Yes."

"Then tell me, why did you bring me here?"

Yami kept on talking in puzzles that it was starting to unnerve him. Can't he supply at least a straight answer?

Seto averted his gaze, raking his mind for a reason that would not sound too sentimental. "Just. Because."

"Then that's my answer, too. Just because."

"You're not going to elaborate?" he coaxed.

Silence. He could feel the weight of Yami's steady gaze upon him.

"And because," Yami said seriously, "I feel like I could trust you."

Seto could feel a smile playing about his lips. As impossible as it seemed, he could now smile freely. He was not sneering, he was not smirking. He was smiling. The expression was faint, but it was still there, and most importantly, it was genuine.

Seto could feel gentle fingers, awkwardly touching his. Natural, uninhibited, right. The moment felt right, and he wondered how this managed to escape his grasp through all those years.

And oh, what were they doing exactly? Or more precisely, where this encounter could possibly lead to? It seemed rather inappropriate that a while ago he was visiting his brother, and now he was with someone in a engaging in a rather intimate gesture. And with a near stranger, no less.

Was this a prelude to a one night stand? If so, then he didn't want any of it. He still had pride to simply accept pity sex.

"You're holding my hand." Wonder of wonders; Seto asked something very, very obvious.

"I am," Undeterred. "Does that bother you?"

Definitely. Because they were not supposed to do that, and if his stepfather had any say about this matter, he would probably sneer out 'faggots' and things along those lines.

Because he could not think rationally, logically, and the sudden rapid beating of his heart wasn't helping any.

Because for some inexplicable reason, it felt like he had been waiting for this to happen after a long time.

Seto closed his eyes, savoring the soothing breeze.

Warm breath ghosts over his lips, and it's--anticipated. Directed, practiced like some cheesy romantic movie. He should not feel giddy like some teenage schoolgirl but he did. He opened his eyes, staring directly at those sets of rubies, now more precious than any other riches he could ever think of.

Pliant lips brush over his tentatively, almost hesitantly. Seeking permission, like he feared rejection would come any minute. If that was the case, then he would willingly grant permission...

Seto leaned over to the kiss, folding under it. And it was enough as an invitation for Yami, who raised his hands and cupped his face, tenderly-- almost lovingly. No one could make him feel so profoundly claimed under that contact, and only one word could describe the scene that would be forever painted in his mind:

Timeless.

Seto couldn't tell how long the kiss lasted. Seconds? Hours? Years? He doesn't believe in destiny, but this was something worth believing. Like the long search was over, realizing that what he was looking for was with him all along.

"Stay with me."

Presumptuous of him to ask Yami to stay with him twice, but he needed a rock to cling on. Seto had promised himself that he wouldn't go that path again, it hurt too much when everyone would only end up leaving him. But...

It's easy to think otherwise.

And it's much easier to believe that in the end, it will always be the two of them together.

"Okay."

+

"Seto."

"Yes?"

"Can you promise me something?"

"Anything, Mokuba. Anything."

"Promise that when I'm gone, you'll find someone who'll make you happy."

"I don't think--"

"Oh, come on. You said anything."

"But--"

"Promise me."

"Alright, alright. I promise."

--fin--

+++

A/N: Well, how was it? Needs a sequel or leave it as it is? I hope it's not too crappy or anything of the sort. I give the readers the freedom the think on what could possibly be the reason why Mokuba died. There are hundreds of them, so just choose one. Also, review this and tell me what you think-- constructive or appreciative, it means a lot to me.