Title: Alienation
Author: Elsalhir
Genre: Angt/romance
Rating: M+
Pairing(s): YamixSeto, YuugixAnzu, YamixYuugi…
Summary: Maybe Im just crazy orthe devil got inside...
Credit to the Dissociatives for the chapter beginning lyrics and credit to 3 Doors Down for the summary lyric.
Alienation Chapter 1
All of that time I was dead,
Limbless in bed, sedated experiment
It was never meant to be like that…Confessions of the heart that were meant to end in happiness, instead ending in sorrow, the fierce, pleading misery of being left empty and void and cold. So cold. Thin scars on a bronze wrist, naught but a pinkish hue in the wake of physical healing, only visible on the outside growing deep like thick roots, down to the very fibre of the soul. A black, tangled heart shrivelled, barely pulsing with every breath, a feeble thump, thump against weary, ancient bones that were brittle and weak like the person he was. Weak and fragile, a memory of the person he was supposed to be. The leader that had all the answers? The leader that always knew what was right?
He looked at himself in the mirror and laughed, a dry, mirthless laugh, twisted sardonic smile, ugly and unsightly. His eyes were sunken, dark, no vibrancy, copper skin paled and rough. Trailing a hand along his left arm, angered, dragging ragged fingernails back down, he tore at the skin, gritting his teeth to bare the pain. Not that he cared anymore. A pain on the inside throbbed and his eyes watered. He felt sick. Sick to the stomach.
All alone, the way he wanted to be. No. He touched the cold glass of the mirror, just a moment, jerking his hand away seconds after and his arm caught his attention, soft red lines like a train track along a bruised, thin arm. Snorting obnoxiously he grabbed a shirt off the bed and slid it on. If no one ever saw, it wouldn't matter how much it hurt inside. The thoughts that ran through his head, the anger, the self-loathing, the snarling monster on the inside keening to be let out. A rabid caged animal.
A snarling, smiling monster. Of course he'd learned to kill. He had to protect him. He did protect him.
How can I love a monster?
He cast a glance towards the closed curtain, the dark outside still enveloping Domino. No sleep had graced him that night. He hadn't slept for three nights. The other incarnation of himself was always out late, most of the time he never came home and he waited and waited for his return. He didn't phone. He never phoned. He never asked him to.
He doubted he ever wanted to.
The man heard the catch on the lock lift from upstairs and inclined his head to listen, wondering if he'd brought her back with him this time. He could hear them whispering to each other, giggling, oblivious that every word was audible, every word. They were probably drunk, but that was nothing new. Time could do strange things to people.
He pushed his ear up against the door, waiting for the moment when they stumbled along the corridor thinking they were being quiet, hushing each other, kissing, before they fell into his bed.
The noise stopped suddenly and he held his breath, wondering if they knew he was listening to them. But then their voices continued if not louder than before. A door slammed behind them and there was nothing. Silence.
Silence.
He opened the door, wincing as it creaked and peered out into the shadowy hallway, unhooking a jacket from the back of the door. Nothing. Nothing but a shirt that had been tossed on the floor in haste, a blouse just beside it. His heart pounded, gaze drawn to the closed door at the end of the corridor. What were they doing in there? Nothing he wanted to know about. But, that was just it, he did want to know. He did. Touching the one he loved, the one he wanted himself. It wasn't fair for him to suffer this way. What had he done? Where had he gone wrong? Taking a breath, the man walked towards the far door, feet cushioned by the carpet beneath his feet and raising a hand, he knocked lightly.
Possessive.
The answer was surprisingly prompt. A bleary eyed man opened the door, cheeks a little flushed, obviously naked beneath the dressing gown he draped around his shoulders. He kept the door only slightly open, seeming nervous, "Yami, what is it?" he said, tone a little restless, a little too harsh.
"I wanted to see if you were alright, aibou," Yami answered, trying to persuade his, once, little light into a decent conversation. "You've got college tomorrow remember, you should be getting more sleep than this."
"I know," Yuugi responded with a yawn. "I'm going to bed now." Yami tried to look around the door, the statement sounding suspicious. He knew she was in there, why was Yuugi trying to hide the fact, pushing the door forwards slightly and stepping into the gap to prevent any view.
"You're back late," Yami said, trying to continue the conversation. "Where've you been?" Yuugi's brow furrowed.
"Yami, can I go to bed please. I'll talk to you in the morning."
"It is the morning." Silence again.
"Good night Yami." The remark was brusque, unnecessarily so and the door slammed in his face. The man lowered his head, eyes slightly narrowed.
You shouldn't have done that…
It wasn't fair.
He'd sat at the table, eyes fixed on the mug of tea caught between knotted fingers, for over two and a half hours. The beverage had long ago gone cold, the large mug with the word 'TEA' scrawled across it in italics, half empty. An open pill bottle sat beside the mug, two small white tablets sitting untouched. Yami's bottom lip was caught between his teeth, chewing absently as his thoughts flittered back and forth across a crowded mind, cluttered images and ideas merging together.
A noise upstairs reflexively made him glance at the clock on the far side of the room, noting it was six forty-five. It was time for Yuugi to get up for college. He considered making him breakfast- momentarily- and then reconsidered. She'd want breakfast too…but wait. What if she wasn't in that morning and decided to hang around? That would prove awkward.
The ancient pharaoh had had enough of feeling awkward around the people he'd once called his friends.
A resounding thump upstairs brought him back to his senses and he pushed back his chair with the intention of heading out for an early morning walk before either of the two upstairs could see him.
No such luck. The younger of the two came bounding down the stairs just as Yami reached the front door.
"Where are you going so early?" Yami halted, motionless, with his hand around the catch of the door. He craned his neck, glaring over his shoulder. Yuugi halted in his descent of the stairs, one foot hovering over the next step. The elder was giving him that look again, "Are you alright?"
"Fine." He opened the door, pulling on a leather jacket.
"Yami, wait!" Yami couldn't figure out why his heart was pounding in his chest. He hated that. He loathed it. Since when did he fear anything? "You're not angry with me, are you?"
He continued to pull the jacket on, straightening it, grabbing a scarf from beneath a pile of papers sitting on a chair beside the hall table. "What makes you think that?" It was a neutral response that evidently didn't answer the question.
"Just a feeling…" Yuugi said softly, finally coming to the bottom step. "Yami, I know you haven't been yourself just lately--"
"Leave it aibou."
"I won't!" Yuugi protested, hand falling upon the shoulder of his other self. "I'm worried about you, Yami. This isn't like you. Have you even had any sleep in the last week—you look terrible!"
"How kind of you to say so," Yami snapped, tightening the black scarf around his neck.
"You look thin too…you are eating, right? I haven't seen you eat anything while I've been around." It was true, he looked like he was wasting away, but it wasn't as if he was about to admit the fact that he hadn't had an appetite for going on two weeks. He'd eaten out of necessity, nothing more.
"That's probably because you never are around."
"Is that what this is about?" Yuugi moved so he was standing directly in front of the other man, forcing his gaze on his. "You're mad because I'm not spending enough time with you?"
"I'm not mad."
"Yes you are! Yami, you're scaring me!"
"I'm going for a walk. Go and get ready for college."
"Yami--"
The door slammed behind him and Yami breathed a sigh of relief, leaning up against the wood, trembling. He lifted his hand, seeing it shake violently. He clenched his fist, angered by his own lack of stoicism, his inability to hide his emotions like he used to. But Yuugi had always been too perceptive.
He looked up suddenly, an unfamiliar car parked across from him. Shielding his eyes from the winter sunlight, he just caught a shadowed figure as the car drove away.
Shrugging, the darker one buried his hands in his pockets, bracing him for the cold wind. There was ice on the ground, frost on the windows. He loved winter. It was so unique, different to the blistering heat of ancient Egypt. Snow on the ground would make him smile.
At least there was something to smile about.
Yuugi rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, staring at the closed door. Something serious was going on in his darker self's head, something dangerous. "Is everything alright, Yuugi?" Anzu's voice called from the top of the stairs. He turned back to see her, his dressing gown draped around her shoulders. "Did you talk to him?"
"Hm…" Yuugi affirmed, eyes lowering. The brunette descended the stairs, tying the belt around her waist tighter. She watched the glazed look in Yuugi's eyes, sorrowful, and sighed gently in understanding. A hand fell to his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly, and Yuugi's head lifted so his eyes could meet hers. "Why is he doing this?" he pleaded. Anzu's brow furrowed, pulling him into a hug.
"He doesn't understand how much he's hurting you; don't blame him," she whispered, fingers smoothing circles into his back.
"I've tried talking to him over and over again, but he blanks me. He pushes me away…"
"I know…"
"I didn't mean to do this, but…. Ever since…" Anzu pulled back suddenly, finger pressing to his lips.
"Don't talk about that, its past. He's probably just finding it hard to adjust to not having you to protect all the time." She tweaked his nose, and he wrinkled it in response, swatting her hand away.
"I know but… That's no reason to block me out of his life altogether. He won't tell me anything, Anzu. It hurts that he doesn't trust me anymore."
"Give him some time… Keep trying," Anzu offered, watching with sad eyes as Yuugi swept across the living room, flopping onto the couch. Yuugi dragged a hand through tussled hair.
"I'm not sure how much more I can try."
His legs moved of their own accord, directing him towards the centre of the city, into the bustle of other people's everyday lives. The irony was, that was where he could get some peace, block out the noisiness of his own mind, the jeering and the plaguing and the conflict.
He'd been to Jerry's Coffee House on one other occasion, and that was with Yuugi. It was busier now than it was then, just the way Yami had hoped it would be.
Stood at the counter, he ordered an espresso and waited patiently, watching the waiter create the frothy concoction and sprinkle something over the white foam. The pharaoh inhaled the scent, smiling to himself in anticipation. He hardly ever drank coffee and the luxury was welcomed.
"That's 1500 yen. I'll put it on a tab and you can pay on your way out." Yami dug around in his pocket to produce some change, only to find he was a few yen short. He'd gone out too soon to ask Yuugi for any money. With a frown he glanced around, unsure what to do. Perhaps he could sneak out without paying…
Was this what he'd been reduced to? With a despondent sigh, he hung his head, rubbing weary eyes, mood returning to what it was before. Nothing ever went right. He really needed to get some sleep before he collapsed on the pavement.
Clenching his fist he looked over his shoulder to check the waiter who served him wasn't looking, only to walk right into someone else in the process. He looked up to find the body belonged to Kaiba Seto, irritated scowl on his face. The antagonism towards the former pharaoh had long ago diminished, but that hadn't automatically meant that they were friends. There was mutual respect of course; there always had been, but that was about all.
"Pharaoh," Kaiba said, sounding the smallest bit surprised to see him there. He'd learnt his title at least, and had ceased calling him Yuugi, but the cynicism remained, evident in the satiric tone he used to utter the word.
"Kaiba," Yami said in response, nodding his head curtly. He moved to walk around the CEO, wanting with every ounce of his being to avoid an argument with the man that day which would no doubt occur if he hung around. The waiter was still paying no attention. If he could just…
He hadn't expected the brunet to stop him. "What are you doing here?" Yami looked up at him again, somewhat suspiciously.
"Wanted a coffee," he said, holding the polystyrene cup in the air as proof. Kaiba's eyes never left Yami's.
"Don't you have coffee at home?"
"Do you have a problem with my being here?" Kaiba's answer was an obnoxious snort, turning his nose up in the air like the snob he was. "Well it's just as well I'm leaving then. Good day."
The last thing Yami had expected was for Kaiba to halt him in his tracks again with just the use of his title. He said the word in a tone that didn't sound related to any emotion except boredom, as if simply reading it from a scrap of paper. That was, no doubt, all it was worth to the CEO anyway.
Yami had only gone two steps when he stopped, head turning, body remaining in its walking position. Their eyes met and Yami's brow furrowed, fingers tightening around the cup of coffee burning his hand. The brunet glanced over his shoulder quickly, checking his desired table was still available. The same ice blue gaze snapped back to the ancient pharaoh seconds later, pinning him to the spot. "Let's talk."
"Excuse me?" Yami responded, choking back a laugh, opting for turning to face the other with a raised eyebrow. "What do we have to talk about?"
Kaiba kept his tone steady. "I have a proposition for you."
"Kaiba, if you want me to be a guinea-pig for one of your new inventions forget it. I'm long past that. I have better things to do."
"On the contrary, it's nothing of the sort." Kaiba made to walk towards the table he wanted, sliding elegantly into a seat and crossing slender legs over. Yami followed mutely, frown still evident and sat opposite, placing his coffee down on the smooth table.
"So what are you doing here? I didn't think you ventured from work during the day."
"I come here to do paperwork and, contrary to popular belief, to have a break."
"I find that hard to believe," Yami said dryly, legs stretched out underneath the table, one foot on top of the other. "So what do you want with me?"
"I'm giving you the opportunity to work for me."
Yami laughed, incredulous. "You're giving me the opportunity? How kind." He gave Kaiba a parody of a smile, flipping the lid off his drink. He'd pretended like the offer was typical, but his interest had already been sparked. "What exactly makes you think I want to work for you?"
"Well you haven't thrown your drink in my face and stormed out yet, have you? Therefore I can only conclude that you're interested at least." The brunet took a sip of the steaming black substance in front of him, lacing his fingers around the edge. "So what do you think?"
The ancient pharaoh leaned forward on his elbows. "Work as what, exactly?"
"My sources tell me you're good at making up games."
"You want me to design games for you?"
"And I want you to be damn good at it. Better than good. I want you to be the best. Do you think you're capable of that?" Yami contemplated the idea, attention fixed on the pepper pot in the centre of the table. "I've seen what you can do, Yami—I've seen you make them up on the spot; I've seen you master something you've never played before. As much as I loathe admitting it, you're talented, there's no denying that. You'd be an asset to my company."
"Why me? I was under the impression you despised the very air I breathe."
"Yes or no, pharaoh. I'm not giving you a reason. I'll pay you a good salary for the work you do. This isn't an opportunity you can afford to waste because I won't extend this offer to you again."
Why was Kaiba being this generous? He never gave anything away. Ever.
"Am I allowed to think about this?"
"No," the taller answered curtly, staring the shorter of the two down with a no-nonsense look. "I expect an answer within the next minute otherwise you can forget it. I don't have time to waste on the indecisive. It's all black and white, Yami, you either accept or you don't."
He was probably going to regret this, "I accept."
"Good," Kaiba said suddenly, standing. He piled some papers into his briefcase and clipped it shut, tossing his jacket over his left arm. "You start tomorrow. Ask for me at the main desk and someone will escort you to my office."
Yami gave an affirmative nod, a little bit stunned, watching as Kaiba passed 2500 yen to the waitress, whispered something in her ear, and left without waiting for change. The same waitress afterwards came over to him, leaning down to say, "Mr. Kaiba wants you to know he paid for your coffee, sir."
Yami caught the white jacket as it vanished from view, frowning softly.
Kaiba released a breath as he walked briskly towards the limo parked on the opposite side of the road, black belted boots crunching in fresh snow, a hand dragging through immaculate hair. He flexed his fingers, trying to get the blood to their tips to warm them. They'd gone numb from cold already…
His chauffeur opened the door for him and he slipped inside wordlessly, throwing the silver briefcase down by his side.
There were some things he wished he didn't know. What had ever possessed him in the first place? If he'd just left well alone he wouldn't be in this situation, this dilemma. It was something he'd created on his own, so he was to blame, but…
He sighed loudly, stroking his chin. He couldn't back out now.
The Egyptian opened the fridge one handed, a mug in his other hand and a spoon balancing between his lips, plucking a bottle of milk from the side of the door. He set the items down on the sideboard, letting the spoon fall from his mouth to catch. The kettle made a hissing noise as it ceased heating up, the button flicking to off by itself. Yami made a cup of tea and planted himself by the back door to look out into the garden at the snow beginning to drift from pale clouds, fingers curled around the mug. He was an employee of Kaiba Seto. Kaiba Seto.
Maybe it would be good for him to have a job. It would give him some independence; stop him from relying on Yuugi's income to keep up with paying the rent on the house and Yuugi would be happier knowing there wasn't so much pressure on him. He could go out more often and pay his own way.
Yes. It was a good move.
He hoped.
His head fell against the top windowpane of the door, eyes settling on a random point on the ground dusted with white, powdered crystal.
What was he supposed to wear--?
"Yami, hi!"
Yami didn't turn his head to meet the voice, only his eyes moved. "What are you still doing here?" he said, a little harsher than he'd intended. This wasn't technically his house anyway—Yuugi had every right to have anyone he wanted to stay. It was none of his business. However that didn't mean he had to approve of the guests.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Anzu. Thank you," he said, lacking in enough enthusiasm to convince her. The brunette girl's brow twitched, sitting herself in the chair that hadn't been moved.
"Yuugi's really worried about you, you know," she stated, avoiding eye contact. Yami voiced a silent protest inside his head to what she was saying. "He thinks you're angry with him because you don't spend any time together anymore. I somehow feel that I'm responsible for that."
There was silence. Anzu shifted uncomfortably. "Yami?" she prompted, leaning over on her elbows.
"Are you waiting for me to reassure you that it's not your fault, Anzu?" he turned sharply, expression neutral. "Are you expecting me to pour my heart out to you?"
"N-no, I--"
"Then what is it you want!" he growled, taking a mighty gulp from his mug. The girl sighed softly, knotting her fingers together.
"I want us to be friends like we used to be. I want all of us to be friends…" she trailed off sadly, shaking her head. "What happened to you, Yami? What happened to all of us? We used to be so close and now, well--"
"He grew up…" Yami said so quietly she barely heard him. For a second he looked pained, eyes betraying him. He slammed his drink down onto the side. "I need to sleep."
Anzu watched as he left her alone, tears in her eyes. When had it all gone so wrong?
Yami shouldn't have been so nervous, but he'd never had a proper job before, at least not one where he'd be required to learn new skills and meet new people. When he worked in Sugoroku's store, customers came and went and working a till and stacking shelves were straight forward enough.
Yes. He was nervous. Terrified. And working for Kaiba Seto was certainly going to be an interesting experience, if at all tolerable. How many mistakes was he allowed before Kaiba fired him? That thought alone made his stomach churn. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all….
Kaiba Seto firing him. The ultimate humiliation.
The pharaoh sighed, uncrossing and re-crossing his legs. Almost forty five minutes he'd been waiting. He glanced at his watch for the fiftieth time. Fifty seven. Fifty eight. Fifty nine. Forty five minutes.
A thumb fell to his lips, biting anxiously on his nail. The receptionist was tapping her pen against her chin, foot swinging to and fro. She glanced up at him now and then to offer a sympathetic smile. He forced a smile in response, cheeks hurting from the speciousness of it. What the hell was Kaiba doing?
Just as the thought struck him, a message came through on the receptionist's intercom and she looked up at Yami with a smile. "Mr. Kaiba says you may go in now." Yami nodded once and stood, disentangling his fingers. He knocked lightly and entered, peering around the corner of the door cautiously. Kaiba looked up from what he was currently doing and beckoned him inside, gesturing towards the seat that was in front of his desk.
Taking a breath, the pharaoh walked towards it, holding his nervousness at bay. The last thing he needed was Kaiba Seto knowing his weaknesses.
"Your clothes are slightly inappropriate, don't you think?" Kaiba said nonchalantly as he glanced up from his computer to press a green button on his phone. It made a high-pitched beeping noise and began to dial out. The brunet balanced the object between his shoulder and ear momentarily, digging a sheet of paper out from beneath a pile of mail.
Yami glanced down at his garments. "You never specified a particular code of dress."
"How many people do you know who go to work in leather trousers?" Kaiba retorted, casting a dark look his way. "Isona!" Yami turned suddenly, noticing for the first time that one of Kaiba's staff was stood beside the door, black-suited and stern of expression. The man stood to attention. "Find some clothes for him to wear. Quickly!"
Isona nodded brusquely and exited the room, closing the door behind. The CEO gestured to the seat in front of his desk as he spoke to someone on the other line, slamming the phone down before he could finish a sentence. He tossed an envelope into the lap of his recently acquired employee and Yami stared down at him dumbly, raising an eyebrow at the one who gave him it. "What's this?" he asked, looking it over suspiciously.
"Agenda for today. It also includes all of the information you'll need. A map of the corporation, main staff, departments, fire hazards, safety measures, emergency instructions, breaks, dining areas, rules etcetera, etcetera. I have assigned someone to you for this week to show you where you're going but I'm confident you can pick it up fairly quickly, considering you manage to do so with everything else." There was a knock at the door and Isona re-entered, carrying a small pair of black trousers and white shirt. He handed the garments to Yami and he grimaced.
"White? Are you serious?" he snorted, glancing at Kaiba and back to the offensive item. "I don't where white."
"You do now," Kaiba responded. Yami's eyes narrowed as he held the shirt up in the air.
"And it's too big--"
"It was the smallest I could find," Isona interrupted, bowing slightly.
It will suffice for today. Give your measurements to Isona and he will see to it that appropriate clothing is made for you. Now, you may leave. I have work to do."
"Kaiba, I-"
"From now on you address me as Mr. Kaiba, pharaoh. Nothing else," the CEO remarked, smirking. The idea amused him, that the pharaoh would be reduced to referring to him as his superior. Reversing the roles of an ancient past. This could work out to be very interesting. "You are an official employee of mine and therefore I expect you to act like one."
"I refuse to be your subordinate, Kaiba," Yami retorted angrily, tossing the clothes down on the chair. "And I refuse to wear these! You will not give me orders. I agreed to work here, but I did not agree to be treated like an inferior." Kaiba stood, palms flat against the desk surface, looming over the spirit with a look of fury.
"One thing I will not tolerate is impertinence from my staff, pharaoh. The sooner you learn that the better, otherwise you will be out of a job before you've started it!"
"Maybe I don't want this job as much as I thought I did," Yami responded coolly, inclining his head to the side. His arms folded across his chest, hip pushed out to the side, attitude emphasised by the brash look on his face. "If you won't let me wear my own clothes and insist I act like the rest of the flock then I refuse to work here." Kaiba elegantly flopped backwards into his reclining chair, legs crossing.
"Fine. Leave then."
"You can afford to lose such an asset then, after all?" the pharaoh commented casually, hand waving in the air. "Obviously I'm expendable." Yami snorted inwardly. That was the story of his life. "I refuse to be a commodity to any more people, Kaiba." With that said he turned on his heels and headed for the door, but not before the CEO's voice cut into his retreat.
"You are not expendable, Yami." He turned slowly. "And I stand by what I said about you being an asset to my corporation, but I cannot be seen to be exercising favouritism within the workplace. A conflict of interests is a very dangerous thing- I ask you to understand this."
"Then I suggest a compromise or nothing."
Kaiba sighed, loudly, "Fine. What do you suggest?"
"I'll wear the trousers but not the shirt." The CEO mulled it over for a moment and then nodded his agreement. "Good. Is there somewhere I can change?"
"Your guide for the day will direct you to the nearest bathroom. Make sure you listen to everything she says. Now, would you please leave?" Yami was surprised by how politely the brunet had asked that question, and so he quietly complied, picking up the black trousers slung over the chair and heading out of the door.
An immaculately dressed woman was waiting just outside, thick chestnut hair held back with a crimson crocodile clip. A plaid skirt just past her knees, white shirt tucked neatly into the hem, she smiled warmly at Yami as he closed the door to Kaiba's office, taking a step towards him. "Good morning sir, I am Timoko." She bowed politely to him, and he imitated the gesture, unsure of such customs.
"Yami," he responded, unconsciously clutching his uniform and the envelope he'd been given. Her smile brightened and she came nearer, soft green eyes glinting mischievously. "Could you tell me where the nearest bathroom is so I can change into these?" he said, holding the garments up for her to see. She nodded stiffly.
"Follow me." He did so mutely, watching her heals as they clicked against the marble floor. When she halted they'd come to two doors, the appropriate symbols for male and female on each. Yami nodded his thanks and stepped inside.
Holding the trousers up, his face contorted. They were going to look ridiculous on him… Sliding them on all the same, he zipped them up and fastened the button, tightening the belt so they wouldn't slip down. Catching his reflection in the mirror he frowned, dissatisfied, adjusting the article of clothing so they hung more around his waist. With a sigh he realised he'd made them look about as good as they were going to, and stepped outside into the corridor with his own trousers slung over an arm.
"I'll take those," Timoko said, moving to take them from him with a peculiar smile. The spirit shifted his arm to the side.
"I'd rather keep them," he stated.
"I'll look after them, don't worry," she replied, arm still held out. "You can have them back at the end of the day." Reluctantly Yami handed them over, watching as she hooked them over her own arm. She continued to speak as she began to walk towards the lift at the end of the corridor." Now, I'll show you your office and go through those documents with you. There are just a few things for you to read through and sign and then you can begin work! I'll be working as your personal assistant so if you need me I'll always be close by."
They headed into the lift, the doors pinging closed behind them. "I'll take care of your contacts, documents and business dealings. Mr. Kaiba will contact you when he deems it necessary, but you will need to make an appointment at least a day in advance if you wish to speak to him. There will be a meeting at the end of every week with the department managers to discuss progress and at the end of each month there will be a board meeting between all of the senior staff members."
Arriving at their floor, the doors pinged open and Timoko began walking again, heals now cushioned on a dark blue carpet. Yami proceeded to follow, ignoring the eyes at the cubicle-like desks that were following him, curious, intrigued by the new worker. "This will be where you need to go everyday. Your office is just around this corner." She dragged a key from her pocket, unlocking the door and stepping inside. She headed towards the window to open the blinds, sunlight streaming across the room in thin rays. There was a decent view of the city, the window two metres in diameter. The room itself was fairly large, a desk in the centre and a bin in the corner. In the opposing corner was a smaller desk, slanted, little instruments hanging up and slots for pencils dipping into the wood. "You can draw, can't you?" Timoko asked suddenly, noting his confused expression. "You know how to use all of those tools I expect?"
"Yes…" he lied, walking towards the corner desk. He tilted the lamp on it slightly, eyeing each tool in turn.
He could figure it out…
"Well, shall we begin going through the contract so you can get to work ASAP?" Yami jerked his head affirmatively, dragging a finger along the desk that was now his before he lowered himself into his chair, admiring how comfortable it was. Timoko took the seat opposite, laying a paper booklet out in front of him. "Would you like to read through it, Mr.…Mr.…?"
"Mutou," Yami answered, the name sounding alien on his tongue. "Mr. Mutou."
"Mr. Mutou," she finished. "Would you like to read through the contract? You can ask me any questions about it as you read."
"What's my pay?"
Timoko looked at him suddenly, a little putout by the question. "In a job such as yours the average pay is about five million yen a year." Yami's eyebrows lifted.
"Five million yen?" he repeated, worried he hadn't heard correctly. Timoko nodded mutely, amused by his surprise.
"Of course, it could be more or less than that. It depends what Mr. Kaiba decides to pay you. He may wish to make this position commission based if it benefits him."
"I see…" Yami responded, casting a careful eye over the first page of the contract. "And what about holiday?"
"You're thinking about holiday already?" Timoko chuckled.
"Just curious."
"You get two weeks paid leave a year, and you're allowed a maximum of six months paternity leave."
"I don't think there's any chance of me requiring paternity leave," Yami said, almost to himself. Timoko clucked her tongue, leaning forward on the desk balancing on her elbows. An unfathomable smile was on her face, fingers linked together.
"You don't know what can happen in the space of a year," she said, tone deep, playful. Metallic crimson watched her carefully. She was flirting with him? He coughed nervously, returning his attention to the document in front of him.
"What are the health and insurance policies?" he said, trying to distract her from whatever it was she was trying to do. "This section isn't very detailed."
She sat back once again, crossing her legs. Yami noticed the effort she put into making sure her skirt slid further than necessary up her leg and averted his eyes, feeling heat rise in his cheeks, "Kaiba Corp. pays for your health insurance and should you suffer injury during work hours you will be given full compensation surmountable to the damage caused to you physically and mentally. If there is any emergency medical treatment you require whilst in the service of the corporation it will be duly paid for and treatment will be given at the appropriate private institution."
Yami nodded, head spinning a little from the bombardment of information, "I think I can read through this alone. I'll be able to concentrate more. If I have any questions I'll note them down to ask you later on."
"Oh…" the lady said, surprised. "Alright. Just press that button right there…" she leaned over the desk to point at the little intercom, bearing more cleavage than Yami would have liked, "…and speak. I'm right outside whenever you need me."
"R-right…" Yami said, nodding. "Thank you." She nodded in return, turned, swept up his abandoned trousers and disappeared from the room.
Yami fell back in his chair, breathing a sigh of relief. He was tired, and this was going to be awkward.
Very awkward.
Yami sucked on a bloodied finger, feeling it give a protesting throb. It was the second time he'd managed to stab himself in the hand with the damned compass. He'd walked into the vice jutting out from the edge of the desk three times and managed to break the t-square in the space of an hour.
He could draw. In fact, he was very good at it, a skill he must have gotten from Yuugi, but since when did anyone need to use tools aside from a pencil or pen to draw something? He had plenty of ideas, but he just could not get his head around all of the implements. It was like being in surgery.
Weary hands knotted into his hair, gripping it tightly. He could feel the tension thrumming through his whole body and lowered his head to the desk, closing his eyes. Who was he kidding? He couldn't do a job he wasn't even trained for.
Why had Kaiba hired him anyway? He knew full well he didn't have any qualifications.
Suddenly he was beginning to realise what a stupid idea this whole thing had been.
Kaiba, on the other hand, wasn't stupid, so what were his intentions? His reasons had seemed valid enough when he'd asked, but in a job like this there were more than ideas needed to be successful.
He leant back again in his seat, sliding down a little so his head could rest against the back of it. "I need to sleep," he murmured inaudibly, closing his eyes.
It didn't seem like he'd been asleep for a long when there was a rather violent knocking at his office door that coaxed him from slumber. Peering beneath lazy eyelashes he said, "Come in," as he yawned, lifting himself higher in the seat.
"Are you alright!" Timoko said, head peering around the door. "I knocked quite a few times and you didn't answer."
"I-er…I'm fine," he replied, disorientated. "Was just resting my eyes."
"Oh… Well I just thought I should tell you Mr. Kaiba wants to see you later. He's coming down here especially."
"What time is it!" Yami interrupted, sitting up straight. Timoko glanced at the clock above the door.
"It's four forty five," she answered.
"Why did you let me sleep so long?" Yami practically squeaked, gathering up the various sketches littered across the desk. None of them were professional- he was hardly a graphic designer- but they were certainly original and streaming with creativity and flare.
"It's just that…" The assistant closed the door. "You look worn out, Sir. I figured you needed the rest. You've done a lot of work for a first day too." She cast her eyes over the desk, nodding her head appreciatively. "And they're not half bad you know. I'm very impressed."
"Thank you," the spirit mumbled, standing as she came a step nearer. "U-uh, when does Kaiba want to see me?"
"I don't know. I suppose he'll be down whenever he's got a slot free." Yami trundled over to his other desk, falling into the chair with a grunt. Timoko leant back on the corner of his desk, arms folded. "So, how's your first day been? Not so bad, hmm?"
The man rubbed his eyes, trying not to fall asleep again. It was dark outside, moonlight shadowed by orange-grey clouds, snow still smothering the ground. Ice had formed on the window sill, frost on the pane. He could only imagine how cold it was outside. Absently he wondered if Yuugi had come back from college… If he was ok - if he'd had a good day…
"What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing…" Yami said instantly, pushing his aibou from his thoughts.
"You zone out a lot, don't you?" she giggled, leg swinging back and forth. Yami chose not to dignify the question with an answer.
"When can I leave?"
"In a rush to go aren't we?" she murmured, leaning forward. A sly smile crossed her lips as she slid across the desk until she was stood in front of him with an animalistic expression. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Anyone would think you wanted to get away…"
With a sudden movement she swept down, pressing her lips to his as well as her body, legs swinging up to straddle his waist. Yami made a noise of objection in the back of his throat, voice entrapped by her lips, hands pushing at her shoulders…
"What the hell is going on here?"
Timoko practically leapt off the man she'd pounced on, straightening out her clothes, face flushed. "M-Mr.Kaiba!" she squeaked, adjusting her hair. "Th-this isn't what it looks like, Sir, we were just--"
"Quiet!" Kaiba growled, ice blue sneering viciously at her. "Get to my office at once!" Timoko lowered her head, scuttling quickly from the room. Kaiba's eyes turned to Yami, who had stood, trying to fight the blush staining tanned skin. "And you…" he said in a deeper tone, expression neutral. "Go home."
Yami's shoulders heaved. He knew it was no use trying to explain what had just occurred, no use saying he played no part in it, because Kaiba would most certainly not believe him, but he had to at least try. "Kaiba, I-"
"Mr." Kaiba snapped, rubbing his forehead. "And I said go home. I have no more use for you here." Yami bit his tongue to suppress a retort, anger bubbling at the back of his throat. It wasn't even his fault, but Kaiba hadn't listened to him in the past so why would he start now?
"Yami! Yami is that you!" Aforementioned spirit didn't bother to look up as he walked through the back door, kicking it shut. He tossed his keys in the fruit bowl on the kitchen table and shrugged off his coat, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. Sliding off his boots as Yuugi appeared in the kitchen Yami smacked them against the doorframe to rid them of excess snow, watching it shimmer on the welcome mat before it melted. "Where've you been? You'd gone out before I got up, you didn't leave a note. I was worried."
"Since when?" Yami snorted, pained by the look of hurt in Yuugi's eyes. The shorter man hung his head, the response stinging him.
"Yami, please don't…" he whispered, stepping nearer. An arm reached out, fingers curling around the spirit's arm. It was a desperate motion, a pleading one.
"Don't touch me," Yami muttered, tugging his arm back. Yuugi's arm hung in the air momentarily before he let it drop to his side, tears pricking his eyes. "Just… Just don't, alright?" Yuugi nodded sullenly, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table. His darker half flipped the kettle on and settled back against the counter, arms folded. Lithe fingers were curled into the sleeves of his shirt, stretching them over his hands, a gesture Yuugi found perplexing. His hands were twitching, only a small amount, but enough to notice.
"So where have you been?" Yuugi tried once more.
"At work."
"Work?"
"Well you were complaining that you couldn't afford to pay to feed me, weren't you?" he crossed the room, opening a draw to grasp a teaspoon. "Oh and of course that you couldn't afford to give me money for clothes and the 'other junk I spend your money on,' as you so aptly put it."
"You weren't supposed to be listening to that…" Yuugi said, overwhelmed with guilt.
"Yes, well. I got a job, so you don't have to give me handouts anymore." It wasn't an accident that he didn't mention that he'd been fired already. "And if you don't want me to listen, don't talk so loudly. I could hardly stop myself from hearing the way you giggle and gossip over the phone with Anzu."
"Yami!" Yuugi exclaimed, insulted and hurt. "And I didn't say anything about what you spend your money on, at least, not in the way you thought you heard."
Yami turned to stare almost scathingly. "Of course, aibou," he said, voice dripping with sardonic vehemence. Yuugi winced at the tone, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
Deciding to drop the subject, Yuugi asked, "So where is it you're working? Is the pay good?"
"Kaiba Corporation," Yami said. He'd been waiting for the opportunity to say those two words together, desiring to see the reaction he'd get from the younger male.
"You're working for Kaiba-kun!" Yuugi yelped, standing from his seat with the shock of the revelation. "Since when! Why! How!"
"Why the sudden interest in my life?" Yami muttered, a sudden yearning in his heart, a burning hurt.
"…I'm always interested…" Yuugi said gently. "Yami, why are you doing this?"
"Doing what!" the spirit growled, fingers tightening around the handle of the kettle as he poured the boiling water. He heard Yuugi sigh and slammed it down on the sideboard, seething scarlet searing. "What, Yuugi! What do you want to say!" He picked the kettle up once more, continuing to pour.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, ok!"
The suddenness of the outburst made the spirit jerk his hand, boiling hot water pouring over his right hand rather than in the mug. With a hiss of pain he wrenched the appendage away, placing the kettle back onto its perch. "Fucking hell!" he cursed, shoving it under the cold tap. Yuugi was at his side immediately.
"Let me see!" he insisted, taking a firm hold of Yami's wrist. The skin was engorged and red, a blister beginning to arise where the water had hit first. "We should get that looked at, Yami. That's a bad burn…"
Yami was silent, staring down at the small fingers stroking across his skin. He looked up at Yuugi slowly, sadly, "It's alright. I've had worse."
"Well… a-at least let me bandage it?" Yami agreed silently, allowing the small incarnation to sit him at the table as he rifled through the draws for the first aid kit. He plonked it on the table, opening it up to drag a pair of scissors, a bandage and some antiseptic cream from inside, placing them in a row in front of him. The spirit watched him working, applying the cream to the burnt skin, biting his tongue not to growl in pain. He cut off a slice of the bandage and tenderly wrapped it around his palm, sticking the end down with medical tape.
"What are you sorry for?" Yami asked as Yuugi completed his task. Yuugi packed away the first aid kit slowly, musing over his answer.
"I'm sorry for whatever's made you so sad…"
"I'm not 'sad'," Yami grumbled, flexing his fingers.
"But you are! Yami, what did I do?"
"Nothing!" he yelled, unharmed fist slamming down on the table. Yuugi started, back pressing firmly against the chair. Yami sighed. "Nothing…"
"Please, Yami…"
Yami rose from his seat, silencing the other. "I'm going to bed, aibou. Good night."
Yuugi watched him leave, eyes filled with tears.
So many secrets. So many lies.
TBC
Notes- I can't help but be very worried about this fic. Where it's going, what it's about, what the hell its doing. But I like the idea and that explains why I posted.