by Ceresi
www.kinda-divine.sterlingsylver.net
Rated: PG
Spoilers: A few for the series in general.
***
Serenity was starting to figure it out.
Joey always walked her home from school, sometimes with Tristan, sometimes with Duke, and usually Yugi (when he wasn't slaving away at the game shop). But it was just them that day. And at one point -- completely innocently, of course -- she turned to him and asked, "So, is Daddy going to go back to school again?"
He thought when hell freezes over, but said, "Not at the moment, Seren, why? What's goin' on?"
She shrugged a little, eyebrows pulled together in a worried and pensive expression. "He did go to night school once, didn't he? When I was eight?"
"Yeah," Joey said, starting to sweat. "He had to quit, though, ya know, work an' all."
"But you said he was going to go back."
That had been a lie. And there had been no work -- which was, of course, the problem.
"He hasn't - hasn't had time, ya know, things have been rough lately."
Serenity said, "Oh," and looked forward again, clutching her books to her chest. She still had that worried look on her face, similar to a pout, but Joey knew not to try and make her laugh. He could see her finally starting to get it, and even if never would be better than late just this once, he couldn't stop her.
He was pretty bitter, though, that his mom had never bothered to explain anything. Serenity had never been in on the Things Left Unsaid loop, too young to catch the meaningful glances and uncomfortable silences. She needed someone to tell her these things. It was going to hurt her when she figured it out.
Joey didn't want her to know. Doesn't want her to know. Oh, he gets that she'll get it -- she's gotta mind like a tack, and once she puts it to something . . . . It's no longer a matter of if, but of when. He's willing to bet it'll be soon.
She'll want to do something, help him out. She'll fight with Mom over it. How could you leave him, he wasn't that much older than me . . . .
But he was older, in every way that counted, old enough to baby-sit and ride the bus alone and even cook things in the microwave, although he destroyed some plastic bowls those first few times. When Mom finally broke and cleared out that night, Serenity was a sleepy bundle in her arms and Joey was a teary -- if older -- mess.
She kissed him on the forehead and babbled something about age, that Serenity was too young to understand but she knew he could handle it. Serenity wouldn't understand why I was leaving or that I'd be back, okay, sweetie? Her hands were cold, shaking, when she pushed back his hair. You be a good boy for Daddy, and I'll come get you soon.
She called him her 'little man', and Joey can approach Kaiba-esque levels of cynicality when he echoes those words. Like he was a pint-sized pinnacle of responsibility, and what. The fuck. Had she been thinking?
It took him a long time to figure it out. It always takes him a long time to figure things out.
He was twelve years old, in junior high, and the gangs were just starting to form. He realized that all his friends had only one parent, some less, that they were all troublemakers and bad kids, punks. That he was too.
That she wasn't coming back to get him.
Lost little puppy, always following someone around . . . .
Kaiba's ten kinds of asshole, but no one can say he's stupid, least of all the dumb fuck who catches his every punch in the gut. Joey picked up, moved on, kept in touch with his little sister. Gave up on an old dream. Caught himself some responsibility.
It's all worked out for the better -- Joey's almost free, Serenity can see because of him, he's got friends who keep him out of trouble and help him out, even when he doesn't want them to. (Sometimes his cheek still twinges where Tristan hit him that time, and of course it was over Serenity, everything is. Even the slow, inexorable divide. Tristan talks to her more than he does Joey, nowdays.)
He's been a better parent then both of his parents combined. It's probably normal that he doesn't really care if his friends know, but would do almost anything to keep it from his little sis.
The silence stretches taut until they reached Mom's. He waves good bye and heads to Yugi's, same way he always does.
~
Math homework is a bitch, and somewhere amidst the formulas and the numbers and the god damned shapes, he realizes that his head really aches, from his jaws to his temples to the back of his head. Tension migraine.
Joey doesn't complain, but Yugi picks up on it anyway, maybe because his eyes are closed and he's rubbing his forehead. "Joey, are you all right?"
"Yeah, just a headache." Joey sits back, Yugi's pillows stacked up behind him, and the wall is cool against his overheated skin. "D'you think we could take a break, Yug'? Just for a minute."
"Of course!" Yugi sets his books aside and hops off his bed. "I'll see if Grandpa has any Aspirin, 'kay?"
Aspirin doesn't help migraines, but Joey nods and watches him scamper off. It's a blessing to shove his books and binder out of his lap and just stretch, socked feet pointing towards the closet, his hands bumping the headboard.
Yugi's room is so clean. It's cluttered, of course, but it's nothing like Joey's room. He's not sure how to clean it. The only vacuum cleaner in his apartment is as old as he is -- Mom bought it before she left -- and he has to make sure Dad's not hung over before he tries to use it. And there's nothing he can do about the walls, which started out white but are sort of off-yellow, or the mildew growing on the ceiling.
The wall beneath his cheek is clean and cool and smells like paint. The pillows behind him are thick. Yugi lives a dream life, complete with a loving, if unusual, family, and Joey's not envious, really. It's not longing he feels, or jealousy, but affection. Of course Yug' gets the world. He deserves it, doesn't he? And maybe Joey deserves it too, but . . .
. . . but his head is still killing him, and thinking like that makes it hurt more. He adjusts himself against the headboard and tries to ease away the tension, wondering if it's really rude to fall asleep in your best friend's bed. He hopes not.
He's starting to drift when he hears a faint whisper of cloth. His first thought is that Yugi must be back, but it's too soft, and Yugi's pretty noisy when he walks. Another whisper, and something brushes his foot -- he's too tired to move, but he's thinking, what the hell?
Yugi's footsteps sound in the hallway, and the door creaks as he pushes it open. "Grandpa doesn't -- oh! He's asleep." He tip-toes into the room.
Joey hears more whispers, like a faintly heard coversation. Yugi murmurs, "No, it's all right, I'll cover him up."
Ah. Yami.
A small hand presses on his shoulder, so gently that if he'd really been asleep, it wouldn't even have woken him. He lets Yugi lay him on his side, head conveniently landing on a pillow. The blanket covering on his foot is tugged over his body and tucked neatly around him.
He figures that Yugi's gonna leave, let him sleep, but the next thing he hears is Yugi sitting on the bed, his hip pressing against Joey's knees, and the rustle of pages.
Another distinct whisper, like someone laughing, and Yugi makes a sound mid-way between splutter and squeak. "Yami! Of course I don't! Not like that!" More whispers. "You're not always right, you know!"
Yugi's so upset that the bed is shaking, and Joey can almost feel the poor guy's blush through the blanket. He realizes that he's starting to lift his head, see what's going on, and immediately burrows into the pillow. Yugi gasps a little and falls silent. A moment later, he whispers something to Yami and goes back to his homework.
Joey wonders idly what it was that Yami said, to freak Yugi out like that. It must've been good. Maybe he'll ask when he wakes up . . . .
Yugi's like a little furnace, pressed up against his legs. The turn of pages, the scritch of pencil on paper, even the occasional whispers are all quiet, reassuring things, humming against his skin like a cat's purr. They lull him to sleep, somehow, despite the aching in his head.
He's happiest here, with Yugi. He wonders why.