A/N: Yes I am alive and I didn't disappear into a void of darkness. I know this has been extremely late and believe me when I say I feel bad, I mean it. I feel bad. I really do. There's no excuse for my lateness at all, except life is peachy and not always kind. Just always remember that I will see this story to the end; I won't abandon it ever. However, I don't want to admit this but the chapter had been close to finish numerous times. I don't know what was wrong with me, but I personally could never be fully satisfied with it each time I wrote it. So on a quest for self-satisfaction; I rewrote it over and over again till I was okay with it. And this is the result; this long chapter. I hadn't originally intended for it to be so long but I kind of dreaded splitting it into two. I don't particularly like short chapters. Well anyway, you guys are probably tired of my rambling so I'll let you get on with the story. And before I forget because I have short-term memory sometimes, this chapter was beta'd by my good friend Chronos Mephistopheles. Thank you for everything!

P/S: I've been trying to get this up since yesterday! FFN was not letting me upload my document at all! Stupid website...

Chapter Warning: Mentions of blood and torture. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Essence of Agony

The real, invariable nature of true agony is…

Huddled in the contours of a room bathed in impenetrable darkness was the small, quivering figure of Yugi, tears freely traveling down pale cheeks while he remained quiet and unresponsive. Exhaustion and emotions that he neither understood nor wanted threatened to collapse his determined resolve to remain conscious, sheer will and the fear of Yami finding him in this helpless state keeping him going. He didn't know where he was at the moment, and he was emptily satisfied that it provided him temporary sanctuary from the terrible problems hovering eagerly outside this room. Time itself was another unknown factor that escaped Yugi, but he liked to imagine wistfully that he been in here for days, avoiding Yami, the devil incarnated into flesh. His imaginings allowed him to falsify the hellish, twisted reality he was entombed into a more comforting one, like reuniting with his precious friends or...being dead. As shocking and completely uncharacteristic of him as it was, Yugi was beginning to prefer death over this frightening, detestable thing known as existence. Perhaps it was the dark atmosphere of the room influencing his mindset, but the prospect of virtual peacefulness and the relinquishment of life's hardships were absolutely euphoric to the distressed teenager. Fortunately enough, Yugi didn't favor the idea of suicide to achieve it.

It really was a shame.

Suicide was another option for freedom despite being disapproved of, yet he was too cowardly to take it. Twice was freedom in his grasp and he let it evaporate through his fingers, like a fool. If he really wanted to be free, he would have stabbed Yami in a non-lethal spot and ran, erasing everything from memory the moment his feet touched cement. Obviously, he didn't want it enough if he was cowering in a random room somewhere, being depressed. No…Yugi wanted his freedom but he knew that wasn't the correct way to attain it. Even if his body was disfigured to an extent, his morals were still pure and flawless, meaning he would get out of here on his own terms and not those of a former psychiatric patient.

Speaking of said killer, Yugi wondered idly if the other was searching for him in this labyrinth-like house of his. The idea brought the teenager neither comfort nor happiness, just a consuming, relentless despair. Yami wouldn't be too pleased with the game of hide-and-seek they were playing and might take his aggravation out on him. Perhaps he should just go back before consequences accumulated. But he wasn't prepared to confront him, not in this weak state of being. Weakness was a variable that people like his psychotic look-alike devoured, preyed upon, and exploited. If he wanted to face Yami, it would have to be with his face cleaned of any evidence that he had been crying and a neutral expression that didn't betray his emotions. But would it matter in the wake of piercing crimson eyes that could detect a flicker of deceit so easily? He wasn't even distinctly good at lying to the other because his sheer presence was intimidating, making it impossible for such a thing.

But he had to try. Or else he would continue to live out the rest of his existence in this manifestation of hell.

Wiping his face with the back of his sleeve to wipe away any proof of his visible show of emotion, Yugi climbed to his feet, albeit shakily from the lack of blood flow, and fumbled for a solid wall for support in the darkened confines of the room, taking quick note of the lack of objects obscuring his path. In fact, there weren't any at all, as if this was just an empty room. Quickly before his thoughts distracted him, Yugi dismissed the curious inquiry if this was in fact just an empty room, letting out a soft audible sound of delight when his fingers came upon something suspiciously like a switch. Without hesitation, he flicked the switch up and instantaneously, he had to shield his adapting eyes from the brilliant surge of light that spawned from the ceiling, appearing flabbergasted as it seemed to settle only on one portion of the room. Everything else still was slathered in a thick cloak of darkness except for that one part of the huge space in which Yugi believed to be the center. Odd as it may seem, there was only a mahogany desk crafted from priceless, polished wood; a black leather swiveling chair; and a mysterious book-shaped object that had a black quill lying upon its surface.

Curiosity got the best of him immediately, regardless of the alarm bells ringing deafeningly in his conscious, vaguely realizing that whatever the object was meant trouble if it had its own personal room dedicated to it. This only served to give the book an even further mysterious air to it, inching closer to it with mixed emotions of excitement, fear, and anxiousness, his heart producing a tempo to reflect these feelings. To Yugi's slight surprise, it was indeed a book; black, leather-clad with a gold opened buckle that wrapped protectively around its middle that probably served as a lock of sorts. Gorgeous in its design and enchanting to the eye with all its hidden secrets, Yugi found himself tracing the smooth, intricate, golden symbols embedded down the length of the book's spine with trembling fingers, glancing wildly around to check if he was truly alone. He didn't want to be caught touching the Forbidden Fruit, figuratively speaking of course. But still…the craftsmanship was awe-inducing and Yugi couldn't help but remove the delicate black quill and open to a random page in the book, shock appearing on his face as it dawned on him that it was a diary. But who's…

Radiant amethyst eyes opened in apprehension, breaths came in short intervals, and a pale neck glistened with a fine new sheen of sweat.

That cursive font, that manner of speech…it was Yami's dairy. Telling from the date of the page he opened to, it was entry dating back to one of his younger days, when he lived with his…parents. Immediately, a harsh knot formed in Yugi's throat that prevented him from properly swallowing; taking a quite step back from the book that suddenly seemed repulsive. This was probably one of Yami's most personal possessions judging from its impeccable, well-cared for condition. Did he even dare to look at the perfectly yellow-tinted pages that withheld such invaluable information about his tormentor, information that alone could probably torture him as well? Or perhaps, the true question was did he want to delve into the past of a killer and possibly see where this all began.

"You're the only one who understands me…"

Yugi winced as Yami's hypnotic, velvety voice spoke resoundingly in the depths of his mind, forcing the nervous teenager to reclaim the position he had next to the chair, uncertainty of what to do clouding his judgment. This could be his only chance of "comfortably" getting to know his host without listening to a sickening recap from the person himself. But it wasn't like Yami's written words didn't install fear into him, even if they were lacking the morbid hue of crimson blood that Yugi began to associate to be the killer's preferred ink. They were in fact more responsible for creating his fear for the deranged murderer in the first place. Surely the words of a younger version of Yami was different, be it in there intensity or their ability to stir fear in his heart. He would never know until he began reading, reassured by the fact that this was just Yami's personal thoughts, something that would be forever locked away unless he took this rare opportunity.

So with trembling fingers tracing cursive letters in a guiding movement while nervous amethyst roved the crisp pages raptly, Yugi read aloud in a soft, whispery voice:

January 23rd, 1995

I…I am confused as I sit here in the protective confines of my room, listening raptly to the whispery exchange going on between my parents downstairs, wondering if I had lapsed into an awful dream in which means of escape is nonexistent. The reason why I feel this way is only because my father, in what I hope is a temporary lapse into insanity, struck me today with a vehemence I have never seen from him before. How would I even prepare for such a thing when father is not the type for violence, but a man of wisdom and fairness? Yet that personality that I've been associated with my entire life was blown out of proportion because he struck me in what I believe to be horrible reasons. What I figured provoked such an impulsive reaction is that today I had decided to confess to my parents about my love for a boy in my class in hopes of receiving encouragement from them so I could confront my friend and tell him. My hopes where shattered the moment mom became so quiet, like the soundless whispers of the shifting golden sands of Egypt. Mother had always given me her opinion first but this time; she looked away from me in favor of father with such an odd look in her eyes.

I didn't understand and I still don't at this very moment I'm afraid.

It was like she was…disgusted…disgusted at me, her son. I couldn't believe it, not my mother. It just couldn't be. So I looked to father. Never have I felt such a horrible torrent of emotions in my life when I looked at his wizened features twist with disbelief and disgust. Was I really as appalling as they made me to be? Were my feelings poorly misplaced? I wish…I had someone to talk to right now. Venting out my emotions through writing can only do so much. And the fact that I'm quite famished isn't helping either. Are they going to call me for dinner? Of course they will…in fact, they were calling me right now.

Maybe things will regain some normalcy after family dinner.

Amethyst orbs filled with sympathy and compassion for this child-no Yami while his heart throbbed with pain and discomfort, reluctantly turning the page to gaze upon the next entry. Foolishly, Yugi believed that Yami had been born mentally unbalanced, cursing himself for jumping to conclusions and being so judgmental. Still, the sympathizing teenager didn't feel that this wasn't enough to dictate such an impromptu change in Yami's personality, even if it was extremely dreadful. Did things proceed to get worse for him? Truthfully, Yugi was afraid to see what had exactly pushed Yami to the edge, his breaking point, but nonetheless, let his hesitant eyes absorb all what ancient pages had to offer.

February 4th, 1995

I was considered to be a prodigy in all aspects ranging from knowledge pertaining to education and physical activity, so it was said by many that I was very advanced for my age. I was nether vain nor held any feelings of superiority like my predecessors before me, knowing that such a egotistical thing would only breed feelings of contempt and envy, leading to a whole assortment of enemies in future times. No...I was just-and perhaps forever more seeing as my life had the uncanny tendency to take awful routes-a lonely person that couldn't relate to anyone in this dreary world that I'm beginning to hate. It is troubling how my opinion shifted so quickly because of the last series of days and their terrible proceedings. Proceedings that consisted of decreased rations that gradually led to minor starvation on my part; regularly occurring beatings with a belt; and a mentally exhausting bout of how I am a sinful creation that needed to be exercised. Between the derogatory terminology mother hissed at me or the leather tearing agonizingly into my flesh repeatedly by father, I couldn't say which was worse. All I knew, all that mattered, was that the love for my parents had faded completely to make way for this consuming hatred I feel, a hatred that ravages my soul.

It comforts me, this hatred I feel.

It soothes the aches in my stomach that stir from the lack of food, but it cannot and will not stay the mental and physical anguish from today's beating. In place of the belt I had sadly grown accustomed to, was a leather whip that had bespoke tremendous volumes to me the moment my disbelieving eyes laid upon the harsh weapon. I had resorted to pleading for mercy, but I believe it only incurred the amusement in father's eyes, even as I screamed in agony at the weapon tearing asunder previous scars and carving new ones. Never had I seen so much of my own blood before, and it had roused some fascination within me. Its wet consistency that was balanced by its warmth, the vividness of its color…simply fascinating. It helped me take my mind off the vicious lashes assaulting me, this wonderful liquid that slid off my back.

And so, I began to wonder, how the blood of others would feel like on my skin, sliding through my fingers. I so eagerly wanted to know.

"Oh Yami…," Yugi muttered in sympathy, stomach churning at the awful details, at how this boy's mind began to twist permanently into the mentality he had come to know today. If only….he was back there to provide support for him, to ease these festering, terrible emotions that were consuming him. It was with a small sob that he realized that it was impractical to hope for such impossible things. No one could change the past that was written in stone or erase the wounds that was etched onto your very soul. Perhaps now, with an eerie understanding, Yugi could say there was enough evidence to warrant such a tragic transformation in Yami's personality. There was enough of the suffering, enough of the world that seemed to tilt too far off its axis. Did no one notice the mental and physical state Yami was in when he went to school? Or was that carefully concealed by a façade of quietness, a silence that wasn't unusual from the genius? Deciding that his inquires would receive no answer just by wondering about them, Yugi skipped ahead a couple of entries until a longer one caught his eye, aware that it wouldn't be long until the household master would seek him out.

September 1st, 1995

I could sense my parent's abhorrence of me mainly from the jest of their uncomfortable gazes as they finally realized that something had changed within me these last few months. They could see that I wasn't breakable anymore, no longer that fragile glass that was just taken from the molding fire. Yes…I've changed indeed. My countenance has gotten that much darker and objects in the outside world seem to no longer faze me like they once have; no opinions, no beatings, no words of concern and suspicion from the unoriginal teachers. It was just me, blood, and this companionable voice that has recently taken residence in my conscience, a voice that comforted and prevented me from succumbing to insanity. Whoever said that hearing voices was a cause for concern was clearly mistaken or just needed to reassess there own analysis. It was why I could focus, why I have grown numb to everything around me, why I suddenly realized how blood could be so amazing.

The voice persuaded me to shed my own blood a few months ago despite my initial hesitance, causing me to develop a liking to gliding a knife across my own skin in light strokes. The pain it brought was so much more refreshing to the one I had grown accustomed to. It was fleetingly pleasant and confused my nerves until they couldn't deviate between a pleasurable pain or a painful pleasure. For a while, I thought my parents would find out about my liking for cutting my self, but I was satisfied to say that I left nary a scar, at least invisible to the untrained eye. For awhile, I believed this was the distraction I needed, but I was so pleasantly wrong when the voice whispered of other things, better things. Hurting others for one and spilling their blood brought on a completely new level of pleasure, the voice had convinced me. Its wisdom never failed me, so I was keen to try something new.

I did, and I'm glad to say it was in fact, a much better experience.

Animals are what I sought out first, finding the foolish creatures when I was walking home from school. I can still remember that euphoric high when I had drew the carefully concealed knife from my school bag, the frightened barking of the dog as it growled at me, threatened of my presence, of a twelve year old boy. Elation and a fine mixture of adrenaline was what I felt when it lunged at me, its terrified movements so predictable to me that I was intrigued at how I so effortlessly dodged the desperate attack, my arm with the weapon reacting instinctively as I stabbed downwards, the blade becoming entrenched in its furry neck. And then came the blood, seeping out through the killing wound so languidly and dark, all caused by me. I could see now, why this was so much better. Combined with the primitive thrill of the fight for survival and the sight of gushing blood, it provided a complex array of feelings that was as addictive as nicotine. I survived off of this; the killing of animals on days that were spaced out; endured the usual torture from my parents; and drew my own blood till I saw fit with that voice guiding me. This pattern seemed unbreakable…until my parents decided to get creative with their abuse one day.

Should I really be surprised at this point? No, most definitely not.

I could only guess that they felt the message they were trying to break through to my difficult mind wasn't quite reaching, not that it would ever. Anyway, father had been positioned suspiciously in front of the fire, back obscuring me to what he was truly doing. Mother, on-the-other-hand, motioned for me to come closer, holding a brown, slightly damp cloth in her hand. She had asked me to take off my shirt and I wordlessly followed her demands, expecting for tender scar tissue to once again to be violated. But to my surprise, she just dabbed gently at the scarred skin in a way that reminded me of the old days. I had almost fallen for it hadn't the voice cautioned me to be vigilant, but even it hadn't predicted what came next.

Father turned around slowly, wielding a freshly heated branding iron in the shape of the holy cross, actually managing to rupture my protective shell of numbness for a few minutes before my composure was regained. My mind quickly understood that what my mother had rubbed into by back was in fact cooking oil, an essence savvy to heating. They had wanted me to burn and I had, screaming to the heavens as my flesh burned and sizzled, the strength of my will preventing me from falling unconscious. I believed if our house wasn't secluded from the rest of Cairo, then surely my screams would have warranted investigation. I had no such luck; the experience had only festered the stewing hatred for this rotten existence to a boiling level.

I can't take it anymore. I wanted them gone, dead forever. I needed to devise a way to kill them, a way that would equal all the suffering they've put me through. I wanted their blood. I…I need to think…in solitude…amidst the distraction of my own blood.

Heart constricting as if unyielding tentacles had wrapped around its pulsating surface, amethyst orbs glistening with the wetness of the tears sliding down his pale cheeks, Yugi released a broken sob as he reread the final words of the entry, his fingers involuntarily shaking in reaction to his jumbled emotions. He knew, merely from glancing at the next page flickered with dried flecks of blood, that Yami had killed his parents in the next entry. The pain, that voice which Yami believed to be hopeful was all the incentive he needed to end the life of his parents. It wasn't to say that they didn't deserve the eradication of their existence, but to cause a child to be driven mad with the desire to undertake such a sinful task was pure madness and a traumatic experience on one's mind. But that is without saying; Yami had apparently liked his success with killing his parents if he continued to do it to this present day. How was it that the doctors were unable to cure his fixation for blood and death? Had they not got to the root of the problem, which had made its foundations in Yami's child hood? No, they couldn't have, not if Yami wasn't actively trying for them to understand, not when they were just going to apply harsher medication because of the unstableness of his reasons. Could Yugi honestly say he understood Yami?

Yes, if only just a little.

He could understand that Yami went through a completely uncalled for change in his life that wasn't properly prompted. He could understand why being malnourished, physically and mentally abused, and subjected to a hellish loneliness caused one's mind to take a steep dive into unsalvageable depths. He could understand so much more clearly now, like the concentrated thickness of the fog obscuring Yami's mindset had dispersed to some degree. It was all because of this little black book, this tome of knowledge which he now regarded with a newfound multitude of emotions. It definitely was the time to seek out Yami, with this new understanding and compassion in his heart, the hatred he convinced himself to feel shimmering down to a fragment that fitted nothing.

Placing the book down tenderly and rearranging the desk to its former undisturbed state, Yugi turned around, only to meet harshly gleaming, ruby-red irises smoldering with enough intensity to put the sun's to shame.

Gravity seemed to intensify as Yugi felt enough pressure to choke out his heartbeat, his senses and quiet breathing coming apart at the seams. There were no words that he could form in order to retaliate against such an impassioned gaze, no logical explanation good enough to warrant his trespassing into personal territory. Anything he could say would be like stepping into a mine field in his current situation, nerve-wracking and able to set off at the lightest of all touches. To say he was scared was a belittlement to the petrifying terror he was feeling coursing through every nerve in his body, dreading another agonizing punishment or something not to far-off. Death would be too merciful-too releasing to be a proper penalty. His inability to bare the possibility of another one of Yami's torturous punishments caused Yugi's knees to give out, unable to support his weight any longer. Pleas incomprehensible to the ears left soft lips as the fearful teenager spoke, tremors swarming through his body like an electric current, wishing for a response of any kind. And he received one, in the form of a sighing whisper; velvety intones putting a short halt to Yugi's insistent cries:

"Out of all the rooms in this mansion my muse, I find you in this one, your curiosity getting the best of you once again. It truly is unquenchable; perhaps what I can see now to be more of your endearing qualities," Yami spoke with ease, effortlessly not bothering the stillness of the room while he came forward, pausing only to help the stunned Yugi to his feet with minimal effort. Crimson eyes narrowed in amusement as Yami realized that his little one expected harm to befall on his small stature. How undesirable. "Maybe my previous actions have indeed left you traumatized, which wasn't the desired effect. I am not as cruel as you perceive me to be…dear one. If I am, than I'm not entirely at fault."

Without thinking, Yugi found himself agreeing, all the details of Yami's unfortunate life coming to the forefront of his mind in a staggering rush. "Yes, you are…you have experienced more than I could've ever imagined, more than anyone should ever go through." A guilty expression encompassed the younger's face as Yami's arms came to embrace him with a silent fondness. "I have been judgmental of you…and your reasons for doing some of the things you've done," he winced sublimely, knowing consciously that he would never excuse or forgive the killer for all the lives he has taken, "and I'm sorry."

The embrace tightened till Yugi could feel the powerful thumping of Yami's heart in the solid chest before him.

"I'm not the only one who is in need of an apology, for I've something to be apologetic to as well." Bronze fingers tilted a firm chin up in demands for direct eye contact. "I am sorry for the suffering I have caused you, even if my intentions were of different origins," Yami said sincerely, adoring the hesitant forgiveness he found resting in amethyst orbs.

Did he dare chance it? This question shimmering on his tongue? Deciding to relay his inquiry, Yugi spoke in an anxious, quivering voice, having faith in the reform Yami seemed to be exhibiting. "Do you…are you sorry for killing her…for killing Anzu?" God please, say yes! Even if he couldn't bring himself to forgive the killer for the heinous murder of his best friend, it would warm his heart and opinion to know Yami felt remorse for his crime.

Lips tightened into a bloodcurdling grimace as crimson eyes smoothed over with dark emotions that made it impossible to permit any feelings of apology from entering through. "I hold no remorse or regret for my actions against that woman. I feel that it was justified."

"J-Justified?" Yugi hissed in disbelief, wrenching himself from Yami as if he just had been scalded by fire, uncaring if this rising disagreement was going to cancel out the rebuilding relationship between him. Disgust and fury blazed passionately in his soul while indignation flared heatedly through his body at Yami's display of callousness and aloofness. "How can that possibly be justified? She had nothing to do with this? She was innocent…and you killed her. Oh Yami…you killed her…," the distraught teenager murmured like a prayer, clutching fixedly at the dull ache intensifying in his heart.

The artist was deadly silent for a moment, analyzing every succession of emotion playing across his muse's face with eagle-like diligence before talking again, his voice placating, almost defensive. "Her interference was what caused her to lose her life. Had she kept oblivious like the rest of your…friends," his voice tightened and grew colder at the mention of Yugi's other companions, "she would be very much alive. Besides," his voice filled with a jealous possession that Yugi never heard before, "she doesn't deserve to be acquainted with what is mine."

Mine…

The word was spoken with so much relish and aggression that Yugi once again was rendered speechless, indecisive on how to handle this new prospect of being owned as Yami so assertively put it. His pride didn't even like the idea to be even considered, and quite frankly, Yugi didn't like it either. He wasn't a possession in anyway, and the anxious teenager would be so much more adamant about the fact if the unquestionable dominance glowing in crimson wasn't so suppressing, leaving no room for argument. Not to mention the horrible, almost forgotten detail that he did carry Yami's mark upon his very skin, a badge of ownership that could never be permanently concealed, existing in silence to play as a disturbing reminder. Maybe Yami did own him seeing as refusal wasn't a given option.

With a defeated look in dull amethyst orbs, Yugi followed the killer who left in quick, fluent steps that beheld the calm of his perfect composure with the enthusiasm of a dead man, masking the sudden weariness of relocating to a new place in this forsaken place. Clueless as to where they could be possibly going in this house of endless corridors, Yugi looked around at the various furnishings that were cloaked in a semi-blanket of shadow, disliking how quiet it was. He knew if something decided to pop out, he would be on the floor screaming hysterically, showing just how tightly wound up he really was. Can you blame him, knowing that there was nothing but a completely unpredictable killer a few inches ahead of you who was in an undetermined mood, silent and emitting an aura that seemed to be unapproachable?

But still…despite feeling apprehensive to wherever this route shall be taking them in this impressive structure of intersecting corridors that could do with a map of sorts, Yugi couldn't truly rid himself of the desire to know where they could possibly be going. It was great enough that it inspired him to voice his inquiry, the sheer size of this mansion rendering his voice quiet and fragile sounding. "Yami…if it isn't too much to ask, where exactly are we going?"

Had Yugi hadn't seen it with his ever-observant amethyst eyes; he could have sworn the corner of Yami's lips twitched upwards into a sly smile before resuming its previous neutral expression. It was mystifying to say at least.

"Seeing as I am responsible for what occurred at the university and causing its dismissal of its students for a week, I will teach you myself on how to properly play the piano. It is your instrument of choice, is it not?" Those eyes were on him again, radiating their familiar, overwhelming intensity that would make a lesser man look down in submission, disallowing him to look away. They themselves were the sole reason why Yugi had such difficulty getting past the knot in his throat.

"Yes it is. But aren't you too busy with other things to teach me personally. I mean not that it's not great in all," Yugi added hastily, trying to avoid offend such a high-standing man. In a lower voice he mumbled, "Don't think that I don't appreciate it…Yami." Did he? Could he honestly say that when knowing that fear agitated his heart whenever they were alone, when those restless eyes never left his form? He wasn't sure.

A humming sound of amusement sighed past darkly smiling lips, eyes becoming half-lidded, gaze intensifying even further as he began inching closer to his trapped muse, unconsciously making the other back away until he began uncomfortable intimate with the wall, precariously missing stumbling over a priceless ornament. "Understand closely Yugi when I say I have all the time in the world to give to you."

The addressed teen's eyes widened marginally. "But Yami I-," a finger halted what he had to say further while the artist's face inched ever so closely, slowly, as if spellbound.

"Ssh. You have such beautiful eyes Yugi," murmured the artist absentmindedly, his free hand coming to a rest at the other side of the trapped teen's face. "A mere shining representation of the wondrous soul you harbor deep within the confines of your perfect body. How I envy you…," elegant fingers trailed languidly down a quivering jaw until it rested suggestively on the milky softness of Yugi's skin, eyes alight with a simmering, sinful fire. "How I long for you…dear Yugi."

Before Yami could cross even deeper into the safety of his personal space, Yugi executed a skillful maneuver that placed him away from the deadly trap that become Yami's arms, trembling from the encounter and the jaded look in narrowed vermillion eyes. Never had he been in such a situation like that and it incurred a variety of feelings that he didn't have the heart to sort through. His discomfort, however, was what he could acquaint with the most and decided it should be what he mostly felt. "I thought you were going to teach me how to play the piano…Yami?"

"Indeed."

The sheer amount of displeasure and dissatisfaction being exuded from the artist was so immense that Yugi didn't need to gaze upon Yami's facial expression as his amethyst eyes roved elsewhere, purposefully avoiding the object of his discomfort as they resumed their walk, the atmosphere seething with an undercoat of tension. No matter how he tried to dismiss it, his peripheral vision caught how his rebuff to Yami's intentional or unintentional advances truly affected him in the rigidity of his stance. The urge to relay his stuttering apologies almost forced Yugi's tongue but upon entering a room that's ceiling stretched far above enough to mimic the height of the sky, Yugi felt the urge give way to wonder and amazement. The room itself seemed to match the Victorian theme of the mansion with its exquisitely modeled structure that was big enough to house the numerous instruments resting there, untouched and possessing a royal majesty all on its own. To the intricately designed, high-grade dark furnishings garnishing the room and filling it with detail to the gigantic window providing a mesmerizing view of Yami's expansive property. It was a picture ripped out of an art book, and once again came the usual inadequacy Yugi always felt when gracing the presence of something of extreme lavishness. He looked for Yami and found him closely inspecting the royal centerpiece of the room, the black grand piano that enticed a wave of awe in Yugi's soul.

Truly it was a majestic instrument, perhaps only playable to those deserving, like Yami for instance whose fingers looked to be able to master the plentiful ivory keys of the piano. Could he even dare to touch it with his inexperienced hands? Apparently, Yami thought so because he gestured to Yugi with a lone finger, his other hand gliding inches over the ethereal white keys, muttering inaudible words to his self. What would happen if he proved to be inadequate in Yami's ever-so observant eyes, or mess up? This was different than the classes were the professor's attention was divided onto all the students, not just one, like now. The nervousness refused to leave him as he inched closer, his innate paranoia of proving himself unworthy in those crimson orbs only being tempered by how Yami was focused on his piano.

'I can't do this…not around him,' Yugi mentally whispered, its echo being taken up by his fears, coming to a standstill next to the handsome man, distractedly looking at the solitary golden harp a few feet away. 'What if I freeze up? What if I can't remember any of the keys? What if I can't answer any of his questions?'

What if…

What if…

It was a never-ending cascade of "what ifs" that stampeded in Yugi's mind as he began to tremble from the combined amount of his fears and anxiety. Oh gods. What if he-

"Yugi."

A petite body ceased its trembling as curious amethyst eyes immediately looked in the direction of imposing crimson eyes and the ever-so familiar dark smile ensnaring those hypnotic lips. "Yes Yami?"

"I believe in your ability to master such an instrument. Don't fear it, not when I'll be here to guide you every step of the way. So shall we begin?"

'If we must...'

Amethyst jewels narrowed with apprehension while fingers of a tanned complexion firmly, yet eloquently guided trembling pale ones over waiting ivory keys, a lesson bordering on the horizon.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

A flowery aroma was the first scent that assaulted the nostrils of the weary ridden teen as he made his way into the bathroom of his oh-so-benevolent host, eager to shed layers of clothing and ease the soreness out of his body from being wound up like a wind-up toy. It was one thing to have distance between one's self and a psychopathic killer and another to be sitting in such close contact that your very breaths mingled with his. It was a very nerve-wracking experience fraught with stress and a plethora of emotions that wound up endangering the attention he so precariously gave to his impulsive mentor. And if that weren't enough, Yami had to add fuel to the fire by taking it upon his self of providing himself a form of well concealed amusement. It would seem the killer derived a strange enthrallment in placing lingering touches upon his body, making the younger squirm inwardly at the uninvited attention that was so inconspicuously lavished upon his body. If Yugi didn't know any better, he would have believed that Yami was using this little lesson as a charade to mask his true intentions. No...it couldn't be...could it? Yami couldn't possibly withheld some type of attraction to him right? That sounded way to farfetched and disturbing to even humor.

And very odd.

Deciding that this troublesome probability would only stave off the relaxation a bath would bring, Yugi sighed and allowed his thoughts to meander till there was nothing but a determination to relax. And even if this bathroom's grandiose decor wasn't what he was used to, Yugi found it possible that he could totally ignore it as long as he took a step into the fathomless depths of the bath, its foamy yet crystalline surface beckoning to him with its heady, rosy fragrance. Only seconds passed before his shirt, pants, and undergarments were shed from his slim body, leaving him naked and exposed to the deliciously heated temperatures of the room, his eagerness sending him plunging into foamy depths with a delighted cry. It was like magic, the properties of the pool that is, as the scented waters immediately set to work on his skin that radiated tension, relieving him off his inhibitions so smoothly that he didn't notice. He was like a child that was being crooned to sleep by the lulling endearments bespoken by a loving mother as his troubles became nothing but an annoying buzz in the back of his skull.

How positively euphoric this was, swimming amongst the heated liquid that threatened to never release him off its freedom. Yugi found it pleasantly odd how a mere liquid could make him so happy. Perhaps it was the workings off a simple kindness being bestowed that made him this way, so giddy and blissful that it reflected on his face, baring a sincere smile that hasn't roosted on that spot in days. For a minute, the small teenager almost forgot how to smile-no how it felt to smile. How it took less muscles to contract in order to bring about a more pleasant expression than a negative one. Yes, the water even soothed the dull throb of his scar that suddenly and woefully reminded him of his situation.

How could've he forgotten so easily? Was he that idled brain?

Tentatively, almost fearfully, Yugi let his fingers glide across the slickness of his skin tell he reached the repugnant, ill-formed, corrugated string of scars that sadly spelled that ill-begotten title with a horrible skill that shouldn't have been tested on skin, resisting the terrible but powerful urge to tear at his skin. Disgusting. Repulsive. Disgraceful. It reminded him of the very emotions that he had been feeling at that moment when jet-black ink and blood interweaved permanently to fill in those accursed letters, how his over-sensitized skin screamed for clemency. He remembered withdrawn crimson eyes supervising the unperturbed work of slender, tanned hands using a utensil to carve into his body, how his screams and struggles fell on deaf ears. The hopelessness, the pain, the wrongness of it all made his fingers tighten and his eyes slather with a thin film of watery tears. Why wasn't it that he couldn't forgo this hatred that devoured his compassion for the killer that he knew that had been wronged in the past? God's it just hurt so much! This confusion and confliction would be his undoing as the trembling teenager sought the flawless marble ledge for support and fortitude, the coolness of the material alleviating his bodily tremors.

He was just so weary of it all as he wondered with a sardonic amusement how a relaxing bath brought upon more stress and frustration. How ironic...

"Am I never going to be happy again?" Chocked the teen as his throat clenched at the threat of unshed tears.

"Do you wish for me to answer that for you? Or perhaps you wish to seek out the answer on your own?"

Standing against the gilded door lathered with gold and other precious intricacies, smiling devilish enough to put Satan's own macabre expression to shame, was Yami garbed in nothing but that comfortable red robe of his and a pair of black, cotton trousers; a glass of wine twixt his fore and index finger. Wracking shudders of unease and discomfort forced Yugi to drift good-naturedly away from the epitome of impulsive desire and mechanical cruelty, those haughty eyes that swarmed with the familiar madness coaxing his heart to beat much faster till he was on the throes of panic. He was naked and vulnerable underneath the heated layers of glistening water, praying to whatever god was up there to aid him from escaping this dangerous situation unscathed. Weren't it for the predatory analysis upon his body, Yugi would have believed that Yami's intentions for coming here was to provide some innocent company at most. But he should've known better to ever consider such pleasantries. When did the killer ever do anything that was innocent or harmless? Never. The mere thought itself invoked an involuntary shudder in his body, a reaction that didn't go unacknowledged in sharp crimson eyes.

"Perhaps I have arrived too late if the water's temperature has lowered. I apologize," he appeared sincere in a crude type of way, "but I had a few phone calls to make after your little lesson."

Yugi felt his infamous curiosity rear its ugly head and he had to struggle to actually reign in the desire to inquire what the phone calls were about. Instead, he merely nodded his head in acknowledgement, the awkwardness of the situation that seemed to have no apparent effect on Yami hindering his ability to make a proper verbal response. Yet Yami needed no words to keep their interaction going as he walked closer, disposing of his now empty wine glass upon a marble stand, and stopping to crouch the moment he reached the polished stairs that lead into the gleaming waters. It was with one, lone, slender finger that he beckoned the cautious teenager over, crimson orbs glowing with unrecognizable emotions, his robe allowing a teasing glance at his fine, tanned, and slender musculature. Regretting having to leave his spot away from Yami, Yugi tensely swam closer with fear of his tormentor's intentions, amethyst eyes catching jaded crimson in a heavy deadlock.

Yugi swallowed, suddenly afraid to breath as the same finger that beckoned him touched his chin and tilted his face to the side, panting shallowly as he felt piercing orbs of cold fire analyze his visage with an artist's intuition. The small teenager didn't understand the purpose of this extremely uncomfortable gesture, but he dare not relay his dislike of this odd survey, especially when a husky chuckle left deceptively smiling lips. God please let it not be anything bad…

Suddenly, Yami sighed, finishing his bizarre inspection and settling for caressing the slick baby-soft skin of Yugi's quivering neck, stopping when he descended upon the rapid pulse of his muse's heart.

"Ah, what a beautiful picture you create my dearest muse." A low hum of appreciation vibrated visually in Yami's throat as his eye lids lowered slightly, enjoying the fluttery thrum under his hand. "Yes, what a beautiful picture indeed."

"Yami," Yugi began to ask, hesitance shaking the firmness of his voice as he grasped his tormentor's wrist with trembling fingers, "may I inquire as to what those phone calls were about? I'm…I'm just curious is all." It was nothing more than a feeble attempt at a conversation, its true purpose to allow him to inconspicuously remove the warm, solitary hand from his body. Just the mere fact that those hands that has stolen life on numerous and unpredicted occasions made him more than a little nervous. Being purely honest, the small, nearly hyperventilating teen was just a few seconds short of fainting. Despite how much he protested with himself, he couldn't help but acknowledge how sensual and tempting those elegant fingers felt against his water slickened skin, confusion making him wonder why such feelings were elicited in the first place.

Thankfully enough, Yami fell for the small, little deceptive rouse and was immersed in his thoughts for a span of 30 seconds, providing enough time for Yugi to remove that dangerous hand from his throat, a part of him missing the heat. Disturbed at this, the small teenager ignored the fleeting desire and watched anxiously as the man fell silently out of the allure of his thoughts, wearing a complex expression that reflected both eagerness and a strange collectiveness, crimson eyes dimming into a cool fire that only flickered with remembrance of the intensity it possessed earlier. It was all rather unnerving to Yugi who didn't know how to receive the expression properly, his imminent nakedness-no matter how much it was veiled by a sheet of water-making him further uncomfortable. He feared that should he ask to get out that it might disrupt this strangely unaggressive and non-dangerous calmness Yami seemed to be exhibiting. Yet his tongue couldn't help but utter the killer's name anxiously, the curious lilt in his soft tone disproving the discomfort he was truly feeling.

"Yami?"

"Yugi." The killer responded in kind, more or less amused.

The teen shifted nervously; the water now tepid and unsavory as its warmth began to gradually disappear. "What were those phone calls about?"

Crimson orbs narrowed further in even more amusement. "Curious aren't you?" He chuckled deeply as he stood up, looking upon his muse who looked so tempting adrift the blue-white of the water. "It is a simple matter really. I was merely arranging dinner plans for this night at a restaurant. And no," he added as he gazed at widening amethyst eyes, "it will not be an exclusive affair. There is someone that I want you to meet who is a longtime friend of mine that shares my place of origin."

Perhaps it was the possibility that this enigmatic friend of Yami's could be a murderer as well was what stirred the fear and dismay in Yugi's heart, his expression surprisingly nonchalant in comparison to how he truly felt on the inside. The mere prospect of being in the company of two serial killers was enough to bring difficulty to his lungs in its task of taking in oxygen, knowing disparagingly that escaping would prove to be impossible. Maybe…if they were going to a public eatery, than there might still be a chance. Even Yami wasn't psychotic enough to attempt to subdue him without drawing attention to himself, the very idea almost enough to tempt a hopeful smile on his boyish features, an expression that had long lost its place in his most recent looks. It was a small hope and an equally smaller possibility that he knew could backfire with alarming intensity, reminding him of all the possible consequences he could bring upon his self for this. If he hadn't been so desperate, than Yugi would've never considered this option. But the true question was could he actually go through with it? Could he calm his heart and placate his mind when the time came? Could he honestly look into Yami's face and fabricate a lie of sorts, the face of cold, merciless punishment?

Without thinking about it, Yugi looked at the killer face hesitantly, almost afraid that those crimson orbs could read his thoughts as easily as a book, almost causing him to look away. Yes he could do it…if he concentrated enough, if he didn't allow those eyes to take him a part from the seams, slowly…painfully…

"Yugi?" That hypnotic voice seemed to mimic concern, seeming to notice the teen's slight withdrawal into himself. But the teen wouldn't be fooled by that façade of callous perfection, not anymore.

It was time for him to dawn on his armor, brandish his sword, and slay the beast if he truly wanted to be set free.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The sky was fairly gloomy that evening, completely lackluster and a melancholic gray that seemed to be the mediator in the general population's mood. This Yugi could glean from merely glancing out of the tinted windows of the limo, anxious, yet pacified by the silent cascade of participation falling upon the vehicle in a rhythmic pattern that was almost lulling in a somber fashion. Weren't it for his nerves that were strung up so tightly that he feared they would snap at the slightest sound, Yugi would've fallen for the eerie spell the music was weaving naturally, amethyst half-lidded in surprised awareness. His anxiety lie partly in the well-groomed yet ominously quiet man next to him and the uncertain outcome of this night, his dainty fingers unconsciously clenching at the expensive fabric of his dress pants. Anything could go wrong; any minor detail could play a momentous part. The fear was almost stifling enough to quell his frantic heartbeat, the blood pounding with its familiar fervency throughout his ears as he bit his lip to subdue any rebellious sounds. He could never handle pressure in any form and this time, it threatened to overwhelm him.

He was so scared, so nervous.

As if finally allowing Yugi's apparent disquietude to reach him, Yami's burning gaze languidly observed the poor boy and his attempts to eclipse it with a shaky display of calmness, convincing him to shift closer to him. It did nothing but cause the tense boy to jump slightly, those beautifully amethyst eyes wide with apprehension and caution that was actually a bit offensive to the unpredictable killer. Even now, during moments that lapsed into such silence, was uncomfortable for his muse. Confusion briefly flickered in his eyes before it steeled over with a dark amusement, taking in the situation with an unfathomable humor that failed to lighten Yugi even remotely.

"Is everything okay my muse? If I didn't know any better, I would say you're very uncomfortable with my presence. This would be interesting considering how you were the exact opposite an hour ago, completely without clothing if I may add." He murmured softly with a nearly pleasant lit to his voice, mutely contemplating on the advantages of trying to calm Yugi with physical contact.

"I-I'm not uncomfortable with you Y-Yami," he stuttered unconvincingly, subtly scooting closer to the window in hopes of receiving some form of protection, as if comforted by the idea that freedom was just a step away.

A small chuckle left slightly sneering lips, effervescent crimson half-lidded in a dangerous delight. "Then why so tense, hmm?"

Lie…

"I'm just anxious on meeting your friend is all," Yugi recovered with a grace that even surprised him, relieved as the other visibly backed off, becoming consumed in thoughts protected by a cloak of unpredictability. Perhaps he wasn't without hope after all. Or perhaps that was just a fluke-a miracle that was a rarity in itself in these dark times. Whatever it was, it granted Yugi the opportunity to install more confidence in his own self as he looked at Yami with familiar cautiousness, unconsciously worrying the fine denim of his jacket. Every time he gazed upon the killer, every time he heard the deep sensuousness of that baritone voice, a cacophony of emotions competed to become dominant, confusing the teenager. God he was so tired of being conflicted when it came to Yami. Why couldn't he just hate him? Why couldn't there just be animosity towards the devil incarnate? No, it wasn't possible, not as long as he continued to become entranced by the others hypnotic qualities, not as longs as he continued to face him without an immunity to his malicious charms. It was unhealthy, this questionable and fear-sustained relationship he had with the killer. And the longer he maintained it, the longer he remained shackled to the man who now sat eyeing him with an enigmatic intensity, the more he would suffer for it. No matter what, he had to escape from this man tonight or else he remain a slave to torment…the very embodiment of his pain-the essence of his agony.

"My friend isn't of the sort that you should fear dear muse."

Yugi blinked out of his reverie, wearing a puzzled expression in reaction to Yami's remark for he momentarily forgot the topic which had caused Yami to recede from him. "What do you mean?"

"He is what you would call a man that lives by what society deems to be good morals," Yami hissed this with disapproval, gold bangs hanging hazardously over his abyssal crimson orbs, the lines of his face taunt with annoyance.

Heart racing at the very prospect of his assumption of this mysterious man to be wrong, Yugi tried hard to suppress the hope from seeping into his expression, keeping up a new visage of polite curiosity. "So he's not a…," fear of offending the man with his reckless but slightly justified assumption tightened his throat and subdued his tongue, locking his words.

By merely gazing into the pools of radiant amethyst, Yami was able to divulge what his beloved muse attempted to say, his expression contorting to one of sadistic pleasure, crossing his arms as he laughed, the shadows of the car enunciating his ominous presence. "What dear one? A killer? Is that what you assumed? Aren't you being just a little arbitrary?"

"I-I…," his response was devoured by the fervor of that mocking gaze, forcing him to look away and bite his lip, confused whether to feel guilt over his hardly justifiable presumption or fearful for making this crucial mistake. Yami had a way in delivering punishment that were memorable in every way to reprimand what he considered a mistake, the memory making his scar throb in warning, eager not to revisit that path. He had to remember to tread carefully when dealing with the unforgiving man.

"Never mind then," Yami dismissed with a casual flick of his wrist, eyes flickering with calm anticipation as the limousine came to a smooth stop, not even waiting for his chauffeur to open the door. Such pleasantries-if you wished to call it that-wasn't necessary to Yami who preferred to do things himself, like beckoning his dear muse out of the car who took in his surroundings with a surprising accuracy, as if he was memorizing every minute detail. Weren't it for his analytical nature and a deeply-ingrained instinct to take everything into consideration, Yami would've paid this slight difference in his muse's behavior little mind. No, there was something else at work here; something that avoided his keen eye, meaning it was close to being out of his control. Yami sneered savagely as he walked ahead, his muse's light, gentle foot-falls telling him that the other was trailing behind him, relishing in the possibility of another interesting move would be taking place in this game of theirs. No matter…

He always won in the end…

The teenager didn't permit surprise and awe to take him once again as Yami and he entered their destination, knowing that the opulent surroundings with their shameless grandeur would only inspire those feelings of inadequacy to return to him once more. But he would be a fool to not acknowledge the grand and well-thought out design of the place, establishing an atmosphere of a placating sense of comfort and security with its cleverly dusky light setting; soft harmonic music that brushed against the senses seeking to weave a lovely spell; and the staff that were helpful without being overly intrusive. Impressive…yet Yugi failed to see their guest anywhere as he let anxious, violaceous orbs rove his surroundings, keeping Yami in his peripheral who was seemingly distracted, never letting up the stifling weight of his personal ambience. Was there guest the distinguished-looking man sporting a cocky grin as he indulged himself in the company of a group of beautiful women? Or was it-

"This way Yugi."

Before he can even let out a gasp of surprise, Yugi felt deceptively strong fingers grab his arm in a frighteningly strong grip, reminding him of the horrifying strength the man possessed as he led them to a remote table decorated by a sole candle, one that had escaped his quite survey. Sitting in one of the three chairs was a man that possessed in air of cool dignity and refinement bred from being around high-standing people. His chocolate-brown hair was hidden in a white cowl that shadowed his intelligent grey eyes which flickered briefly with resignation and respect upon sighting Yami, and pity and dull curiosity when acknowledging his presence. If it weren't for Yugi's cultured mannerisms and the unforgettably company of his tormentor, he would've inquired about the man's outlandish clothing with childish enthusiasm. He instead settled for looking at the man almost shyly as he tried not to look away from the man's searching gaze that traveled from him to Yami frequently, only sitting, albeit apprehensively, when Yami sat with a casual grace befitting only to him, smirking with amusement. Chances of escape was beginning to slim down as he further looked at the unnamed man, knowing the loose foreign garments he was wearing belittled the finely-tuned muscles that lay underneath.

Yugi paled, knowing without fail that the man would carry out whatever Yami asked with cold efficacy that could almost rival the killers. But still, he had to hope, letting what Yami said earlier about the man and his good morals and the reassuring fact that they were in a public place comfort him, no matter how isolated they were.

There was still a chance…

"Mahado," Yami greeted silkily, eyes half-lidded with a cloaked intent as he threaded his fingers together in interest.

"Atemu," Yugi blinked in confusion at the use of the killer's last name, "I see you are doing well." Grey eyes traveled towards the slightly fidgeting teenager as he seemed to be the focal point of interest at the moment when crimson eyes lazily landed on him as well. "May I inquire as to who this boy may be?"

"Yugi Moto," the killer answered with a coat of relish and undeniable possessiveness, causing the man to shift questionable in his seat, his gaze upon Yugi sharpening alarmingly.

"Ah…is he the one-"

"Yes," Yami cut him sharply, looking at the man named Mahado with a barely concealed warning to which was regarded with an apologetic nod.

"Do you intend to keep him around…sir?" Yugi could swear he heard underlying tone of sympathy in Mahado's voice as that uncomfortable stare was unwavering, a hidden message in those storm-grey eyes.

Yami laughed, dark and foreboding as always as a tanned hand found its way underneath Yugi's chin, directing fearful eyes upon gleaming, maddened ones, an odd emotion drifting in their depths. "Of course. He is special to me in a way that you cannot possibly imagine. He is my…dear muse, my inspiration."

Mahado's eyes widened in shock in reaction to the passionate statement, making Yugi's blood run cold as an alien voice whispered urgently that this was a bad sign, stirring up his instincts to run. But where to? Where could he possibly go? Nowhere…not while those unforgiving eyes refused to relinquish him, oh so quietly threatening the forfeit of his life, or maybe worse…

Unparalleled fear…Endless agony…

"You haven't been inspired in a long time sir…" Mahado commented quietly, composure within his control once more.

"No…and it is why I've arranged this meeting Mahado. It is time I discussed with you the plans of the future." Crimson eyes glazed over with an inexplicable yearning upon the silent teenager who could only scream silently on the inside. "Of our future…," he added softly in a husky tone that made Yugi's heart race in trepidation and something else he was too petrified ever to admit.

To the mentally trembling boy's horror, Yugi could only observe in protest as the rest of their conversation was concluded in another language that he couldn't identify, only knowing it concerned him with Mahado's frequent glances in his direction and Yami's obvious pleasure and that strange fascinated gleam he gets when looking at him. Hadn't he known better, Yugi would've made some form of a protest at being talked about in such an urgent matter. Instead, for the sake of his sanity and to quell his anxiety, he focused his concentration on the on goings of his surroundings, amethyst orbs being drawn to the irresistible sight of a group of friends laughing amicable, filling him with a painful torrent of nostalgia and nausea. How long ago was it that he sat in the company of his dear friends, taking a simple pleasure in frivolous antics concocted by one of them in the midst of pure, unsaturated amusement? It was so hard to recall those distant yet beautiful memories with the arm of a deranged psychopath wrapped unyieldingly around him, as if doubtful of his loyalty to stay by his side willingly. This was why Yami was so smart-so deviously intelligent with that animal cunning of his that would make most wonder if he was truly human.

Human…

It was a word that Yugi had trouble associating with the cold-blooded murderer as he gazed forlornly at his captor, thankful for once that his attention wasn't focused insanely on him but the conversation that seemed to grow more intense. He looked human, at least in structure. Everything else didn't seem to be quite human. No one on this earthly plain had such finely-chiseled looks that rivaled Adonis himself. And those eyes had to be carved and perfected to the exact likeness of rubies; drowned in a macabre sheen of blood for the sheer redness of them; and held beneath the rays of the sun for their burning intensity. It was the only explanation as to why he couldn't possibly human. He wasn't a creature of remorse or sorrow, just an avaricious monster that was fueled by nothing but impulse, lust, and hatred. Yet, Yugi's mind kept whispering treacherously at how that wasn't always true, at how he grew up with spiteful parents that sought to purge him of a sin that was never there. They hurt and abused him, tortured him till he broke, feeding him on hatred and agony. Maybe…Yami-the one that was buried beneath the twisting scars and passionate hatred-was still there, aching for salvation. Maybe…

'No…'

He wasn't a monster.

'No.'

He ached on the inside.

'Not possible.'

He suffered.

'It can't be true.'

Maybe the truth was-

"No!"

At once two pairs of inquiring eyes were upon him, one pair curious, the other concerned as the teenager realized he had lost control and vocalized his inner turmoil. Quickly before they could ask questions, even though it would only arise from the Yami later, Yugi stumbled out a half-true excuse, face flushed from embarrassment and discomfort. "I-I'm hungry."

"Is that all?" Yami inquired as he continued to search anxious orbs of amethyst, dissatisfied with the teen's answer for his uncharacteristic outburst.

Yugi resisted the urge to balk away from the consuming fire of Yami's relentless gaze, suddenly finding the floor to be a much more tolerable object. "Y-Yes."

Blood-red eyes left the suspiciously nervous teenager with a hint of displeasure as the handsome man rose; mumbling something uncatchable to their silent companion who nodded in consent, leaving once his say was over. Not knowing how to receive this small but meaningful freedom, Yugi felt a uncontrollable tide of desperate desires whisper fervently in his ear to escape-to run and never look back. This had to be the moment, his only chance of accomplishing his goal. He could almost feel the addictive pleasure that he was sure to feel the moment he stepped out into the world behind these doors, the sheer realization that his shackles had eroded away and the door to his cage had opened. So close…so wondrously close…yet, it wasn't going to be that easy as he threw the ever observant Mahado a furtive glance. The man wouldn't just let easy prey to escape his grip, especially not with the shadow of the killer looming dangerously behind him, a good incentive not to fail. The man was much bigger than he was, but he-being diminutive-was quite nimble on his feet. For all one knows, that may be enough to get away, relying on the ever-present fact that he could always resort to screaming for help should Mahado manage to catch him. With these uncertain assurances behind, Yugi's body tensed as he prepared to launch out of his chair, heart pounding, blood racing, and cold perspiration dribbling down his neck-

"You won't get far."

And it was as if the world came crashing down upon him as he heard those honest words, quickly whirling around to face the man who had gotten much more serious than he had seen him get. "I…I don't know what your talking-"

"I am no fool Yugi Moto. Your body tensed in preparation for action, and your face tightened with resolve. You was about to run away." He pointed out, leaning in closer towards the mystified and outwardly anguished teenager, smoothing his expression to a gentle one. "Not that I blame you of course…," he added with amusement, attempting to lighten the boy's mood.

"I can't…I can't do this anymore. This pain and suffering he's putting me through," Yugi choked out as a sob threatened to escape, gravity of his situation once more attempting to crush him underneath it. "He's cruel," his voice only grew more impassioned as those feelings long suppressed fought to be released, "and merciless! He tortures me physically and mentally on a whim and expects me to understand? That is such a twisted ideology!"

"I understand, although this is the first time I'm actually seeing this," the cloaked man murmured distractedly as he grew lost in thought, puzzling Yugi out of his rant.

"What do you mean?"

Mahado straightened as he rapidly looked for their missing companion, only continuing when he decided it was safe, speaking softly. "There have been others before you Yugi Moto."

Yugi reeled back his gasp of disbelief, unsure on how to handle this information. "Others? There were others he tortured?"

"Tortured?" The man laughed as if Yugi had said the funniest thing in his entire life, only stopping with an amused sigh when he caught the teen's slightly offended expression. "You must forgive me. Atemu's other err…victims…are always quite infatuated with him to the point where he could do anything inhumane against them and they would merely brush it off. It's rather sickening." All laughter and traces of amusement vanished off his face as he regarded Yugi's horrified countenance, knowing that this conversation was only going to spiral into even further unreachable depths. "They would love him, everything about him, worship the ground he walked and the air he breathed, and praised him…like a god. Too blinded by their sickening adoration of him, they couldn't see his discontent and the dangerous weariness he possessed for them. It was pretty soon that…," he trailed off, looking impressively pale despite his finely tanned features.

"What Mahado? What happened?" Yugi knew, god he knew, but he needed to hear it, needed to affirm his beliefs about the man.

"That their blood too soon marred the faces of his canvas's like all his other victims."

A dainty, pale hand clenched at his painfully beating heart, each agonizing thump emphasized by the pain caressing his nerves so slowly. "Mahado…am I to share their fate?"

"No."

Yugi looked up confused, convinced that he heard wrong. "What?"

Mahado' expression became solemn as he exhaled a sighing breath, suddenly appearing to be so much older than what his young appearance told. "You are different from the others…so much different that I fear for you. The way he looks at you…I've never seen it before. It is as if he's infatuated with you…"

"I'm infatuated with you."

"He yearns for you…almost obsessively…"

"I yearn for you."

A single, crystalline tear trailed from glistening amethyst orbs.

"He will never let you go. It is not in his nature. He plans to ruin your life and-"

"It is not like he hasn't already." Yugi interrupted him bitterly, wiping his eyes to prevent more tears from escaping. It wouldn't do to cry about it, to reveal his insipid weakness.

Mahado shook his head impatiently, willing the small, depressed boy to listen as he grabbed Yugi's shoulders with an urgency that stunned the other into paying rapt attention, breathing shallow breaths. "Listen to me! You haven't seen anything yet. What he plans for you…," he stopped himself, as if pained by the pleading look in those beautiful eyes, "I cannot say. Forgive me. But I can help you, escape that is."

Yugi wasn't sure if he had died just then or was trapped in a beautiful dream. "H-How?"

"There is a door that leads to the back of the restaurant next to the bathrooms. Go outside and there's usually cabs waiting to drive people home. Here," he pulled out a reasonable amount of cash from his garments and a white card, placing it in the dazed teenager hands, who promptly put it away, "this should be enough to secure you a plane ticket out of the country. Whichever place you choose, make sure to give the person on the card a call. He's a rather cold businessman, but he should help if you mention my name. Now I-"

"Mahado, whatever are you doing with my muse?"

Widened amethyst eyes flickered with obscene fear as they locked unbreakably with jaded crimson orbs, body rigid with a painful, languid fear that pulsed steadily through his body like that of the fluorescent blood flowing through his veins, silently praising Mahado's ability to regain his composure in such a short notice. Quickly, yet smoothly, the tanned man's firm grip lifted from his shoulders as he inclined his head an apologetic bow, honestly looking as if he was genuinely sorry about touching Yugi. "Pardon my actions sir," his tone was the epitome of calmness, "but Mr. Moto seemed to be light-headed and required my help to steady him."

Seemingly placated by the answer, Yami with fluid, masterful grace sat into his chair next to his unusually pale muse, casting an amused, prompting look at the nervous teenager, cleverly masking the concern he felt. "Is everything alright, dear one? Do you require anything?"

His tongue was like bricks in his mouth. "J-Just hungry."

"Dinner will be arriving shortly; I personally took care of that," his velvety voice assured, swimming with a mass amount of sadistic humor.

Determined not to be bothered by the implication at Yami's attempt to reassure him for he didn't need anything else resting on his mind, Yugi forced a painful smile of gratitude towards his oblivious tormentor, his heart rate escalating as his thoughts returned to his ever-prominent escape. He had wished Mahado told him when would be a good opportunity to escape, intentionally or unintentionally leaving it up to him to provide his own opening of escape. It seemed impossible to the small teenager as he felt the ever-intense gaze of Yami's blood-red eyes upon his person, which weren't too keen to relinquish their observation of him in case he grew "light-headed" once more. But it wasn't a matter of being possible or not, but to see if had the resolve to do it. The money and business card in his jacket's inner pocket seemed to grow heavier with each passing second, silently whispering-no urging him to flee like he ached to do. He just needed more time to think, more time to gather his thoughts and formulate them into a workable plan. He would have to ignore those scorching orbs of cool, merciless fire; that aura diluted with darkness and unforeseen intent; and that hypnotic voice that could snare the most indifferent person. They were all formidable opponents.

Yugi clenched his knee in apprehension as a risky plan formed within his mind as the food which Yami foreseen was laid out artistically before them in assortment of exquisitely prepared dishes. If he was to forever elude Yami's grasp, he would have to act sick, convincingly enough that it warranted a trip to the bathroom. It was a good, dependable plan up into the actual acting itself when considering that he had a habit of dismantling underneath the sheer power of that burning gaze. It was already difficult enough to tell small lies when looking into those fathomless pits of smoldering fire. Could he do this? Amethyst looked weakly at Mahado who had been engaging Yami in a nearly one-sided conversation, appearing at ease without the slightest trouble, never once sparing the uncertain teen a glance, as if avoiding him. If Mahado could do it, so could he, even if the man probably had years of experience of dealing with the incalculable Yami. He just had to concentrate, to keep reminding himself why he was doing this. He suddenly pictured his friends laughing faces in his mind, magically solidifying his resolve and suppressing his fear.

He could do this.

Sinking into a careful silence as he took a small portion of food that he knew he couldn't eat even if he wanted to, aware of that relentless gaze of calm madness, Yugi poked at his food timidly as he listened to his two other companions slip easily into that foreign tongue, resuming their conversation. Even if Yami was speaking, Yugi knew the other would still be paying close attention so he made a noticeable show of looking at the food as if it revolted him, his expression paling and contorting into one of disgust. It was with satisfaction and anxiousness that he listened to the gradual decline of Yami's part in their heated conversation, his visage analytical and bemused as he seemed at lost on how to gauge Yugi's worsening condition. The teen could barely contain his self at how things were playing out so well, dramatically dropping his eating utensils on the plate and weakly clenching at his stomach, emphasizing his sick act. Apparently Yami, eyes darkening with negative emotions, had enough as he dropped his discussion abruptly, fully peering at Yugi with the full ferocity of scarlet-hued eyes, his lips in a displeased frown.

"Are you ailed by something Yugi?" He murmured thickly.

Yugi forced back his instinct to reel back in submission as he looked at Yami with glassy eyes. "Y-Yes. I need to go the bathroom."

Something menacing flickered in those eyes as he sighed in acknowledgement, signaling for Yugi to leave. Struggling to control the excitement that threatened to rob him of movement, Yugi quickly rose and proceeded to leave only to feel his heart stop as lean fingers gripped his arm possessively, unwilling to let him leave. It was only the consequence of being harmed that he turned around to look at the murder, sobbing inwardly at the countenance of Satan himself, scarlet hue's burning vehemently, passionately. It took all that he had to not faint on the spot.

"Return to me in none less than 10 minutes Yugi," the teenager fought back a shudder at the ominous intent on the emphasis on his name, "or I may have to come looking for you." And with that, he let the poor, frightened teenager leave without a further word, turning back to his food with ease, once again unreadable. Fighting the vicious, desperate urge to run lest he appear suspicious, Yugi forced himself into a slow pace, keeping up the sick façade until he rounded a corner where he could see both male and female restrooms. As ornately welcoming and exquisite as they were, there was something much more beautiful about the ordinary, white door before him, something unexplainable. Without realizing it until he touched his face, Yugi felt tears being shed unbidden down his cheeks, unstoppable as a spring downfall. Was this feeling spreading warmly throughout his body freedom? Was it exhilaration? Did it even matter? No it didn't, not when everything that he suffered through was so close to being buried away permanently, a nightmare that was finally ending.

Heart in his throat, nerves alight with exuberant joy, face tear streaked, Yugi burst through the door to his freedom with clumsy happiness, stumbling as he felt the uplifting touch of rain pelting his body gently. Had he more time, he would've stayed rooted there and allowed himself to reveal in the water's pleasurable caress, his frantic eyes unresisting the draw of the brightly colored taxis, awaiting a passenger. He didn't need any more encouragement to get his legs to stumble shakily towards the vehicle that seemed to represent freedom, panting painfully as he opened the door, drawing the contemplative eyes of the driver.

"Where to kid?"

"J-Just drive…far away…please," he whispered as amethyst closed in weariness, smiling at the sound of rubber creating friction on asphalt, soothing and speaking volumes to the exhausted teenager.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

15 minutes…

His muse was late, dangerously late. His patience had worn thin the moment he had sent Mahado away to drag the boy back to him, sickened and unable to move if that was the case. But the man had yet to return and it stoked that impulsive desire to shed blood into awareness, his fingers aching painfully to grasp the knife lying leisurely next to his plate, its metallic shine speaking of a delicious promise and the salvation to the building pain in his heart. His muse had been acting abnormal this whole afternoon, to the point where it even confused him. The teenager hadn't even hinted at a sickness earlier, and yet so suddenly, he was overtaken by one inexplicably. There was something wrong on a substantial level, something that he refused to acknowledge because it was simply unfathomable. That damnable voice and all its cynical remarks was laughing uncontrollably, mocking him as it already knew the truth as to why the boy hadn't returned to him. It wasn't possible, not feasible enough to comprehend in his current, violent state of mind. Yugi would never run away from him, not when he knew there was to be dire consequences for his foolish mistake. There was no reason for his little muse to run, even if they had their…misunderstandings. But that was all forgiven, wasn't it?

Right?

Resisting the impassioned compulsion to massacre everyone in the room and paint disturbing images with their blood, Yami released an agitated sigh as he swept a tense hand through his golden bangs, brows furrowing in blank confusion as Mahado returned, minus the one he truly wanted to see. Perhaps the teenager was hiding behind Mahado, but he knew this to be wishful thinking as he beheld his friend's solemn expression. No…this wasn't possible! How could it be? Rage and betrayal burned viciously throughout his body as his dark heart beat with agonized slowness, the world suddenly too blindingly bright as this foreign pain seized him over and over again. Gone…Yugi was gone. The knowledge tormented him ravishingly, as if enjoying this intolerable pain it was inflicting mercilessly. His unstable madness was getting harder to control and that voice never ceased in taking sadistic in enjoyment in this unparalleled suffering of his, easily surpassing the pain he felt when that whip from so long ago tore into his back.

What was this…this pain…?

He savagely rose to his feet with a maniacal sneer, allowing the savory fear on Mahado's face to help soothe his ceaseless agony, grabbing the man's collar threateningly. "Answer this correctly Mahado; I'm not in a forgiving mood. Where is my muse?" Crimson eyes flamed with barely restrained violence and madness, watching grey eyes cloud with nervousness.

"He is gone Yami. He has escaped."

"How?" Yami hissed impatiently, tightening his grip as his anguish and vexation rose to hazardous heights.

"Through a back door that leads to the back of the restaurant."

Wordlessly, Yami released the gasping man as hot anger boiled his blood, his control slipping the more he thought on how odd the teen contracted this spontaneous sickness, at his request to go to the bathroom. His little muse planned this and fooled him. The mere idea incited a blind rage in Yami as he pushed passed Mahado aggressively towards Yugi's scene of escape, slamming open that revolting door that led outside. The rain did nothing to pacify his anger as he looked around murderously, seeing not one trace of his muse, as if he vanished. No. This had to be wrong, everything about this was wrong. Yugi couldn't be gone. But the brutal pain within him said differently as it forced him to his knees, ripping forth a howl of anguish from his throat as he slammed his fist repeatedly, hollowly into the ground below, splitting his knuckles till his blood diluted to rain water tastefully. Physical pain couldn't banish the one ripping maliciously at his tattered soul, couldn't tarnish the fact Yugi was gone.

And that voice laughed perpetually, making this all the more unbearable. He wished to hurt something so badly…anything would do. Anything to alleviate his own agony.

"Sir…?" Mahado's quiet voice brushed against him cautiously, as if approaching a feral animal that had been confined for the majority of its life. "What do you want me to do?"

Yami's fingers twitched dangerously, his eyes emotionless as he regarded his blood and the rainwater with a frightening detachment. This pain would never stop; the very essence of it not within his reach. "I want you to do absolutely nothing."

Mahado shifted uncomfortably, his confusion apparent.

"I will find him myself," he whispered softly as he rose mechanically, slowly turning towards Mahado, his very image that of a wrathful demon as he smiled satanically. "And when I do, he will know naught but pain and anguish. He will learn that to run from me, is to run from life itself. After all," crimson orbs gleamed demonically as his husky baritone voice coated with sin and a sickening desire, "he is my dearest muse, the very essence of my agony."

…is the one brought from another…

A/N: Well, this chapter has set the stage for the next one. Poor Yugi…what has he done? Lol. Anyway, in case you guys are wandering about when my next update will be, I can't say for sure. Just know that it won't be ridiculously spaced out like this one was. That I can at least promise. There's know school anymore, which means FREEDOM! I don't know how long I was aching to relax, but I can now. Anyway, feel free to tell me all what you got to say about the chapter. Constructive criticism is very much welcome as well. I will most likely be able to respond to all of your reviews because I have the time to now. I love freedom. Hope you guys enjoyed it!