Title: Raison d'etre

Author: lilcupcake

Rating: R (of course)

Summary: Jounouchi Katsuya dreaded that one day above all else, the day a painful reminder of a tormented past. Haunted by destructive memories, will he slip away into the darkness forever? or will someone be able to save him in time? SXJ

Pairings: Yaoi, boyXboy, shounen-ai, yadda-yadda-ya, in the end Seto Kaiba X Katsuya Jounouchi

Status: Incomplete

Disclaimer: I don't own, duh! Everyone knows what's supposed to go in this slot anyways.

Author notes: Yes, I know I have some bad grammar and spelling. My friends and I tried to catch all of them, but you know how it goes. Some things just get past you. The rest of the a/n- at bottom of page

Chapter 1: Prologue

Have you ever felt like you should have never woken up? Just stayed in bed, lost in the false security of sleep, and not awake until the day fades into the next? That one day during the year, that only comes once every 365 days; the one day you dread above all else, despising anything about it and everything it stands for, anticipating the end that never seems to come any closer, always staying forever away.

That was how he felt.

Because…

Everything that could go wrong did go wrong, starting at midnight. No, it was more like 12:03 am, since the clock glared those digits at him through the pressing darkness, taunting him with the horrid truth, turning after every minute lasted an eternity, tempting his mind with the appealing idea of insanity.

Because…

He wondered why he never cracked, never collapsed under the shattering force that laid upon him, never gave up. Just because he had not done so did not mean he wouldn't soon. He would break soon, very soon. His mortality slipped away little by little each day, leaving him behind with nothing but his memories intent on making him losing his mind. Every year brought him closer to the edge; it was just a matter of time until he lost the game.

Because…

Today was his birthday.

Now, here he was four hours later, still staring at the clock from where he was huddled in the corner of his room, knees drawn to his chest, chin resting on top of them, and only his eyes shifting every now and then seeking out any type of invisible threat. He was safe as long as he did not succumb to the lurking shadows that surround and invade his bleeding conscious. He was wounded beyond repair. Just because one could not or chose not to see his injuries, did not mean they were not there. Is there not some sort of blood shed when the conscience is wounded?

His eighteenth birthday to be exact.

The clock twitched as if to mock him. It wasn't enough that he was drowning in the suffocating emptiness of his mind, but inanimate objects had to torture his already meaningless existence. This was why he hated silence: it allowed too much time to think, to contemplate on his past, to face issues he had yet to conquer. Given time and left alone, he would only be lost that much faster. Twenty-three minutes after four in the morning. It was time.

Eighteen years of existence on this planet of pure hell.

He slowly stood from his sanctuary and started for the door. He didn't need to bother with his clothes, seeing how the only school uniform he owned still hung loosely on his thin, wiry frame. It was raining outside anyways, so there was no need for a shower.

He never could escape it.

The door to his room slid open silently. Years of experience and mistakes taught him the value of silence. The real challenge came from the floor of the living room to the front door, the only exit in this dump he called home. Months before, the alcoholic bastard people called his father caught him sneaking out through the window in his room. As punishment, said window was blocked off.

He would be trapped here forever.

He treaded lightly across the bare floor, carefully avoiding broken pieces of glass or boards that would surely give him away to the snoring man on the couch. Not that he would care if he left. No, his 'father' would be sorrier about relinquishing another opportunity to degrade his 'lazy, worthless' son. Blame him for all his problems, past, present, and future.

It was always his fault, regardless of the situation.

To the bastard on the couch, he was nothing more than a punching bag, which also served as the only income for the family of two. He snorted – if you could call them a family. Amber eyes widened considerably. He slipped up. The first in months. That little bit of sound caused from blowing air out his nose echoed in the hauntingly quiet apartment, disrupting the interior like a gunshot.

Why did he even bother to hang on to his pitiful reality?

The blond froze in his tracks. He was within inches of freedom, of temporary release from the bonds that held him to this life. He couldn't deal with the man's abuse today, not on this particular day, not when it was hard enough just to keep breathing. A bottle shattered just above his head, jerking him into action. He leaped for the door, ignoring the scream of fury behind him.

Only one real tie kept him locked onto this earth.

He would pay for it later that he knew for sure. A small bit of wetness trickled down his face from a stray cut produced by the sharp edges of the glass. He impatiently swiped the drops of blood away with the back of his hand as he launched himself down the stairs and out into the false night. His mood was dark enough without adding the fuel of his father.

He could never abandon her, never break his promise, and never hurt her like others did to him by leaving him behind.

He picked up the bundle of white roses he purchased yesterday from the flower shop and hid in the ally way beside the apartment building. Once the bouquet was nestled safely in his arms, he jogged in the direction his only true family waited on him; the one that still stayed by his side with undying love and loyalty. Kawaii Shizuka, his little sister.

She was his reason for being, reason for living, reason for breathing.

Jounouchi Katsuya fervently hoped she would be enough to save him. Because if she couldn't, his sanity would surely slip away; all control lost in the end; succumbing to the pain; his mind escaping from his broken body forever.

All of this because it was his birthday.

God help him live through it.

(((Okay, well this is the start of my first YGO story. This will definitely revolve majority of the time around Katsuya and his birthday. This should be a relatively short fic, seeing how most of it will happen during one day. This is just a preview. Hope you review, it would be nice. Later - lilcupcake)))