It was a poke. A poke at the right side of his mind. It was so like the pokes that he used to get whenever his partner spoke to him through their link.

He got these pokes very often. Sometimes they woke him up in the middle of the night, and other times, they distracted him from counsel meetings. When the pokes felt more like jabs, and when he could almost see his dear partner against the canvas of his closed lids, he had to leave whatever company he was in to regain his composure.

That's what the pokes did to him. They affected him more than most things or people could. They put him in a sense of unease, and denied longing.

Because, after he would walk away, or stroll down to the great moonlit Nile (in the event his slumber was disturbed by a poke), he could feel so deeply and see so completely that he almost felt a physical pain.

It started when the pokes became more frequent, and when they exerted a little more strength on the right side of his brain; images flooded to his mind. Images of a darkened room and a moon barely visible through the window. Then a small hand reaching up and covering everything in darkness. It was soon moonlit again in the images, and then came a pathetic sniff. A hiccup next. Finally, a choked sob. The images were suddenly hard to decipher, and whizzed quickly until there was a soft thud and a sigh. Darkness again.

And then the pokes would stop. The pharaoh had no idea why such images invaded his mind when he wasn't conjuring them. But after some time of these same images repeated, he could almost see his partner, in his bed in the darkness, staring out at the moon, and then burying his head in his pillow, falling asleep soon after. All the while, making sounds in the back of his throat, and wiping at his eyes as sparkling drops shimmered in the glow of the light.

The pharaoh realized that the images he saw were through his partner's eyes.

Though it wasn't always like that. When the pokes became painful, he caught something telling him that his partner was most definitely smiling in that way that used to melt his heart. And then he caught a wave of the most shattering, drenching pain he could imagine. It lasted so long, wave after wave of intense hellish fire. Each passing moment it would get worse, and sometimes he found himself unable to eat whenever the pokes progressed so far. Though, no matter how badly the pain he felt, that he knew was not his own, tortured him, he could not help but think: while he's smiling...? How could he be smiling and feel this?

It wasn't long, really, until the pharaoh felt a pain of his own rising above the hurt transmitted to him. It was his partner, his partner, feeling these things. Absurd thought infested his mind, thoughts like: why I am not there? Why would anyone make him feel like this? Why am I not making this better?

They were absurd thoughts indeed, because he knew why. Thousands of years separated them. Why else?

He wished he could help his partner somehow. He wished his partner wasn't feeling such overwhelming emotions. And wishing was all he could do.

After some time, he'd become used to the pokes. Sometimes they conjured nothing. It was simply a soft poke at the right side of his mind, a sad, thrumming beat that eventually ebbed away. But other times, he swore he could hear disjointed words and sentences, being spoken in his partner's sweet voice.

Whenever he heard it, the voice was always sweet. But there was some ethereal, bittersweet, utterly pained quality to the voice.

The pharaoh began to get angry. To a point that most would think ridiculous. But, he became enraged. Who dare make his partner feel such emotions? Who dare make his partner cry at night? Who dare make his partner suffer while he smiled through out the day?

Day after day, the pokes badgered him, and gave him unwanted intimacy with the pain of his partner. He started to wonder why the pokes could not show him a form of happiness through his partner's eyes. Because, listening, feeling, and seeing the hell of his partner was too much. What delivered the final blow was the cold fact that he could do nothing about it.

The pharaoh became an angry, easily upset wreck. He hid it well from others, no one suspected anything. After all, he must be strong for his people. But the pokes, the familiar pokes at the right side of his mind, always ripped away his defenses making him vulnerable. They reduced him to a whirlwind of emotions, leaving him no choice but to lock himself in his chamber or wander aimlessly through the hot sands.

One night, a barely coherent word passed through his subconscious as he slept. A fleetingly pronounced 'I' accompanied by an image of sparkling eyes. Deep, big, sad eyes.

Two nights later, another word taunted him while he wasn't aware of the world. The word 'miss' echoed, as a picture of lips floated lazily in his mind. Rosy, full, beautiful lips.

Five nights later, as distant dreams had all been forgotten, the syllables making up 'you' were said in a whisper, a teary whisper, quivering and broken. And there was an image of his partner running his hands through the water of a stream, a look of pure longing etched on his face in a way that betrayed his child like appearance.

And the pharaoh shot straight up in bed on that night. His head was pounding, and his heart was beating madly. His breathing was erratic. His wide eyes scanned the room, hoping the find his partner.

But he didn't. The only thing he found was realization. Too much for the poor man to handle.

'I miss you.'

That was it, wasn't it? The pokes were not intentional, and they were merely the unconscious transmission of his partner's pain. A pain caused entirely by the pharaoh himself. No one was hurting his dear partner but him; it was all his own fault. The person to scold was himself.

And when the pharaoh took some time to think about it, truly think about it, he realized, that with all his heart, he missed his dear partner unbearably as well. And these damn pokes had coaxed that realization out of him.

His poor partner was worse of than him though. And as the pharaoh pushed the fact that he missed his partner to the back of his mind, he instead dwelled on the depressing thought that he still couldn't rectify the situation. It was his fault after all. He was the cause.

The rest of the night consisted of feeble pokes, and the pharaoh trying to keep the rising memories and emotions under lock and key.

The following days passed in a sort of blur for the pharaoh. The pokes, forever on the right side of his mind, left him feeling slightly distraught. Each time he felt a poke, he knew his little one was thinking of him, missing him.

So, when the moon was highest in the sky, the pharaoh took a little walk. He ventured far enough away so that no one would bother him.

He stopped and breathed deeply for a moment, gathering everything close, and then, in a spectacular way, full of will and love, he let everything go.

Wake up, Yuugi. He called softly to the night, without words. He backed his message with everything he could muster.

Partner. Please...

The pharaoh felt the familiar poke, and a great avalanche of shock, mixed with warmth and sadness.

Yuugi. Yuugi. Yuugi.

Silently, he spoke everything to his partner, and he only uttered his name. The pharaoh told him to be happy, if only for him. He told him that he missed him too. He told him everything.

Every emotions seeped out of him, and traveled the seams of time. He closed his eyes, focusing on conveying everything.

The poke at the right side of his brain became insistent, pained, and relieved all at once. He could almost see his partner, tears falling silently, as he sat on his bed, listening.

Yuugi.

Oh, the pharaoh wished he could comfort him. His dear little one.

The pharaoh could feel the brush of velvet lips on his own, on his eyelids, on his nose, his forehead. He knew he was receiving his partner's message.

Then came the incoherent babble of words from his partner, expressing the longing and sadness in crude, inarticulate ways.

His partner's distress was horrible. He wished he could make everything better. So he kept telling him everything until, reluctantly, he felt the pokes slow down and drift away into nothing.

Yes, the pharaoh thought, go to sleep, little one.

The morning after, the pharaoh woke to a soft poke. The poke was almost hesitant, and still bittersweet...yet there was more sweetness. A watery smile.

He unleashed a smile of his own. His partner was smiling, genuinely. He felt relieved.

Quite literally, they were soul mates. What was a couple thousand years?

He touched the right side of his head thoughtfully, and then let his hand drop to his side. The pharaoh felt another poke.

And he poked back.

Good God. Have I gone insane? Maybe. Most likely. Yes. I mean, I used to watch Yugioh back in the day, I used to get up at 6AM to watch it. And now, out of nowhere, I get slightly obsessed again. And this time, let's add in some new obsessions. Not only with Joey and Mai, oh no, but with Yugi and Atemu too. Christ. And what the hell is this? Well. Obviously, a fanfiction. Random as hell and weird though. Ugh. I need to work on actual work. Review? Love to know what you made of this.

Mucho love.