Spectator

Five Fandoms, Five oneshots, Five Days

Happy Hallowe'en

Seto and Joey were infamous for their arguments. In fact, half of the school banked on their epic fights for daily amusement. They often fed each others' animosity quite well, throwing insults sharp enough to make a sailor blush. Seto didn't think highly of Joey Wheeler, not at all.

But he did think frequently of him.

Perhaps it was because of his wandering thoughts that he even thought of the mutt at first. He hadn't had a good fight in a while, after all, and the ire of running a company did call for some much-needed stress relief. The only problem was, there was no mutt to be found.

It was nearly expected that Joey skip a day, as he did it nearly once a week. But two in a row was strange, and three stranger yet. Seto was a creature of habit, so it was perfectly justified that he started paying attention on Day Two. After all, Joey was a failure but he did strive quite hard to prove otherwise. He attended school just to spite those who thought he would go nowhere with his life. And Seto, one of those people, relied on Joey being there to amuse him. Naturally, he was quite upset that the mutt dare inconvenience him by skipping two days.

After three, he was downright furious. Angry enough, in fact, to possibly remain by the shoe lockers to possibly eavesdrop on a certain Geek Squad. They, it seemed, were just as interested in Wheeler's whereabouts as he was.

"Joey's skipping out again? This is getting bad, guys. He's gonna fail his finals!"

"Anzu, I'm sure he has a good reason..."

"Guys, I just saw him yesterday. He said he had a few things to do, so calm down! I'm sure it's important; he told me not to worry about it."

Seto slid away, frowning. So the mutt had found something more entertaining than school? He didn't know enough about him to infer any reasons where he'd be, other than perhaps selling off his 'precious' cards for possible alcohol money. Tristan's voice followed after him, ringing with laughter, "Guy's gotta take a shower, though. He smells like a hobo."

It was raining the day he saw him. He was in a foul mood, his limo breaking down at the absolute most inconvenient time, and he was forced to walk the rest of the distance. He was only five minutes away from Crash Site Zero when the splashing sound of his footsteps was joined by a matching set. He turned his head, shoving sopping bangs out of his face; his briefcase was tucked into his jacket to stay dry. Walking beside him, soaked just as much as he, was Joey Wheeler.

The blonde rolled his head to stare right back at Seto, a faint grin on his face. He was pale, splotchy even, with darkened rings under his eyes. Even with the unappealing pallor, his eyes were alight with amusement. "Playin' in th' rain, Kaiba? Never saw you f' the type."

Seto's own cobalts narrowed in disdain. "They do say that the mutt always comes back, tail dragging. What the hell are you doing here, Wheeler? Taking care of some important business? Did you find it at the bottom of a bottle, perhaps?" He fully expected an explosion, a temper tantrum and a screaming match. Instead, the blonde simply kept his eyes locked before staring straight ahead, eyelids drooping in thought.

"Kaiba, why d'we always fight? Ain't we got bette' things ta do?" His hands were shoved in his pockets, and just then they walked by a wide-mouthed alley. A cross-breeze, it must have been, washed an awful smell to Seto. It was sharp, metallic. His nose crinkled in disgust. His temper turned just as sour as the smell.

"Fight? You're not near intelligent enough to offer anything resembling a fight. You're a worthless, no-good hack who couldn't make it in the world without little Yugi holding your hand."

Joey's chin dropped to his chest, but he still didn't rise to the bait. Instead he chuckled, shaking his head. "Can' hold out on me f'rever, Kaiba. I know there's gotta be a reason you hate me so much. Maybe today's jus' not th' day."

Seto blinked in confusion, but a sudden blinding light forced him to look away rapidly. A honking horn drew his attention to the backup limo Mokuba often occupied, but the headlights shone on the empty road beside him. His brow furrowed, but he dismissed it quickly enough. His briefcase was only getting increasingly wet the longer he stood.

It was only two days later, when he was entering Kaiba Corp, that he saw him next. Joey was around the side of the building, hunkered down on an employee cigarette station. It was chilly, but Joey was wearing a white t-shirt and his trademark jeans. It was the same outfit he'd been wearing in the rain, Seto realized as he stalked in his direction. The closer he got, the more he saw the wear of the outfit. Patches of awkward colouring were staining here and there, like Joey had rolled across a condiment station at the cheap, greasy restaurant he was employed by. His hair was slightly disheveled, hanging over tired amber eyes. Yet he still lifted his head to grin as Seto reached the smoking area.

It was semi-enclosed, a lean-to style roof sheltering a metal table. The smell was awful, old smoke and something else. He figured it was the metal table, weather corrosion causing a strange, rusty smell. Pleased with the reasoning, he closed the mental file and focused on the boy sitting in front of him.

"Ya ready ta tell me why we always fight? I'm real' curious now, ya know."

Seto grunted in frustration. If the mutt was just going to follow his around and bother him with meaningless questions... "Why should it matter? Do you have some allusion that we'll discuss our many differences and suddenly become best friends? Don't get ahead of yourself. The only reason I even pay you any heed is because you're easily angered." He'd said many a thing like this before, but his words didn't have the same edge as before. Something about Joey was too different - he wasn't riling up as he should.

Joey tossed his head back and laughed, flashing a long column of dirt smudged up his neck. Seto started, silly imagination drawing patterns in the filth. He shook his head to dismiss the images of cockroaches, hand prints, all things vile his brain could conjure. The blonde stood, straight and tall, taller than Seto as he stood on the table's bench. He suddenly reached a hand out, swiping it through Seto's hair. The brunette snarled, stumbling back with a thoroughly mussed mane. Joey jumped down, skipping out of Seto's reach. Seto attempted to right his hair to some semblance.

"Gotta tell me why ya hate me sometime, Kaiba. Can' wait forever."

When he looked back, Joey was gone.

Seto spoke to Joey for the last time a full week after he stopped coming to class. Yugi and Co. were still casual about the whole situation, joking that Joey had likely snuck off to some tournament or another. After all, it seemed the most likely situation for him to skip out for so long.

Seto was unconvinced.

He had always been resourceful; survival had depended on the trait. So it really wasn't hard to figure out whereabouts Joey lived, with or without school records. He hadn't even had to pay anyone. He'd had to map the neighbourhood though. It was a crisscrossing mess of buildings, roofs leaning against each other to make enclosed roads and crumbled buildings cutting off paths, making secret little courtyards that hadn't seen any kind of authority for a long, long time. More often than not they became hideouts, drug rings, catering to anything on the unsavoury side of the law.

Seto saw Joey standing inside one such road, staring off quietly at the decayed shingling above him. He turned his head to meet Seto's eyes before moving away, deeper down the path. Seto checked for his cell phone, feeling the unfamiliar weight of the small pistol in his breast pocket. He was a billionaire, after all. No chances. Comforted, he stepped into the darkness after the boy.

"You followin' me now, Kaiba? Should I be flattered?"

"What in the hell are you doing around here, Wheeler. I understand what a poor duelist you are, but your meager skills should at least win you a few minor tournaments. Enough to get out of this dump, at least." He told himself he wasn't nervous being here.

"Followin' me, and now complimentin' me. Did I miss th' part where we had th' little chat and became best buds?"

As they walked, sections of roof had caved and created a dappled lighting. It was like walking through a concrete jungle, dark dancing with light. By that light Seto caught glimpses of Joey, of his sunken dark eyes and equally sunken cheeks. His hand, swinging bonelessly at his side, was grayish and thin.

"What happened to you, Wheeler?"

It was the kindest tone Seto had ever spoken to him with.

Joey stayed silent for long minutes, before scuffing to a stop and turning to face his unlikely companion. Frontal view just made him look worse, the light casting half his face in shadow. Seto could almost imagine the blackness as one great, gaping chasm, no more a part of Joey than the brick behind him.

"Ya never answered m' question, Kaiba." Gone was the playfulness.

Now it was Seto's turn to brew in silence. The last thing he wanted was to speak his heart. To anyone. And now he would have to do just that, and to a despised acquaintance. But he felt like it had to be said soon, or it simply never would be. He closed his eyes to better reflect what it was that he felt, what kept him awake at night to taunt all that he had become, and all that he could never be.

"You are a duelist worth notice, Wheeler. But there's more to life than card games. Once you take that from me, I have nothing. You... you can win over whomever you wish. People like you. I couldn't do that. I cheat, force my way. It's all I know.

You could say, I suppose, that I envy you.

But... I never hated you."

He opened his eyes, almost expecting Joey have vanished, just like before. But the boy was still there, unmoved and staring at him. Finally, he reached his hand out, wrapping his fingers around Seto's wrist. The touch was both cold and tingling, sending jolts up his spine. Joey remained wordless as he led Seto on, falling through light dark light. His hair seemed to darken, and the stench of rot grew stronger the more they went. It was overwhelming, catching in his throat and making him double more than once to vomit. Still Joey pulled him, until they reached a heap of rubble, only three feet of clearance between it and the caved roofs above. Joey let go, digging his hands into nooks and crannies and pulling himself up and over.

Seto ripped a part of his sleeve off, firmly tied it over his face, and followed after him.

They said he'd been dead for at least six days.

But Seto knew it was seven. One week.

The tiny courtyard his body had landed in was filled with trash and rats and such a bitter, bitter loneliness.

They said he never fought back.

This Seto could believe, remembering the patterns he had seen on... on his neck. Like a hand rut up against his jaw, set in motion to lift a lanky, underfed body off the ground.

He was still in his pajamas.

They said his arm had been shattered.

They said he had been dragged.

They said he had fallen from the roof above.

They said he had died instantly.

They said, they said, they said.

But they never said who did it.

Three left! I seem to be posting around midnight. Work, just so cursedly distracting. Read, review, rant, and I hope you enjoyed!