I actually wrote this ages ago but I lost my USB :( I found it again :D

This story is dedicated to my Nanna, who taught me to love sewing :'D Which I am, I may add, no better at than Mokuba. I still love it.

Warning: Mild pay-outs with no offense intended on Justin Bieber, Mills and Boon, Barbie and Twilight.

Seto was rich; it was true. He could spend thousands of dollars on absolutely nothing and be no worse for wear.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't care. Part of having money was not wasting it. This was something he had been drilling into Mokuba for years.

All of that was, of course, completely irrelevant; no matter how much Mokuba had been taught to save money, it didn't change the fact that he was standing in front of Seto's newly-ripped five thousand dollar suit.

Mokuba was still getting his head around how it had happened. He had just ventured into Seto's walk-in wardrobe in search of his brother when all of a sudden he had tripped and was grabbing the closest thing possible – the suit – for support. The rip had been painfully loud.

His blood turning to ice, Mokuba turned the suit over in his hands. For all its worth, it had split right down the back seam like a packet of chips.

"Seto is going to kill me."

How could he have been so careless? He should just own up to it and say he was sorry. He wasn't going to lit. He deserved to be in trouble; it was going to cost his brother a fortune whether they mended it or replaced it.

Mokuba sighed, determined not to cry over spilt milk. Maybe…an apology would appear more sincere if he at least attempted to…

He grimaced. There was absolutely no way that would ever happen. He was a boy. Boys did not sew. His mind made up, Mokuba made to leave. He would just find Seto and tell him he was sorr-

Mokuba took one last look at the current state of the suit.

And changed his mind.

It was time for some improv sewing lessons.

Mokuba had set up base camp in his colossal bedroom. All of his furniture had been pushed aside to accommodate the equipment Mokuba had assembled for the task.

Mokuba sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by everything he could possibly need to repair Seto's suit. He had no doubt that he had overdone it; there were three different types of sewing machine, several boxes of assorted threads and the total amount of needles, pins and other sharp, pointy things Mokuba couldn't even name in the various sewing kits could easily have entered the hundreds.

Mokuba rubbed his hands together. Just how hard could this be?

Very.

That was all Mokuba had to say for himself. Unable to use a needle threader, he had already spend five minutes just getting the tiny thread through the eye of the needle. He then spent another three in the process of knotting the two ends together.

All of a sudden, Mokuba could see why sewing was a skill he had never been expected to learn, and his heart went out to all who weren't so lucky.

Mokuba looked at the suit again, suddenly terrified at the idea of putting a needle through the thing. Surely, he would only make it worse. He wimped out, and spend the next ten minutes figuring out how to thread the sewing machine, an obvious stall for the moment when he would actually have to brave…the rip.

Mokuba sat back. It had been nearly an hour since he had ripped the suit. He really hoped Seto wouldn't need to speak to him about something and come looking for him.

Still putting off his first attempt, Mokuba walked over to the door of his room. He needed a break from needles. Besides, maybe it would be better if Seto found out before Mokuba actually tried sewing; that way he would know Mokuba had tried, without the added expense of whatever damage that try caused.

Stepping out into the hallway, Mokuba shook his head, trying to stop being so dramatic; he didn't know for a fact that his attempting to fix the jacket would make it worse. For all he knew, everything might actually go well.

He sighed, leaning against the wall for a moment, getting his head back. Then, he turned around and went back into his bedroom to the awaiting needle.

Sewing was harder than it looked. Ten minutes later, this was a fact that Mokuba knew all too well.

Fearing that he was running out of time, Mokuba had resorted to using the sewing machine. Failure had ensued; after panicking and letting go of the suit, a row of stitches – white stitched on the black suit – somehow managed to appear all the way around from the rip in the back seat to an ungraceful bunch of white thread up around the front collar. Sweat beaded on Mokuba's forehead as he cut the jacket from the machine. Why on Earth hadn't he used black thread? After leaving Seto's suit in an untidy heap, he set to work at re-threading the sewing machine, too scared to look at the jacket again.

Mokuba was on the verge of tears – and as the younger brother of Seto Kaiba, this was not something that happened very often.

Trying to ignore the obscure white stitched going around the suit, Mokuba next tried using the needle by hand; at least that way he couldn't panic and forget to take his foot off the pedal.

Hand sewing proved even less successful than its machine counterpart; it was slow and arduous, and the thick material caused the stitches to form a jagged something that in no way resembled a line.

He was still cross-legged on the floor with the unsalvageable black and white mess on his lap when he finally heard his name from the doorway.

"Mokuba? Is that you?"

Mokuba sprang to his feet so fact that he accidentally pricked himself with the needle he was using. The suit still in his other hand, Mokuba hastily hid it behind his back before it could get seen by-

"Yugi?" Mokuba heaved an enormous sigh of relief. "I thought you were my brother…" Suddenly, the realisation of who this was actually hit him. "What are you doing here?" he asked, still trying to conceal the suit.

From the doorway, Yugi shrugged. "Your brother brought me here for a duel, but…I think I got lost; I have no idea where I am."

Mokuba was about to point him in the right direction when Yugi suddenly seemed to register all the sewing equipment around the room. He paused, before asking in a somewhat hesitant tone, "Um…if you don't mind me asking…what are you doing?"

Mokuba struck a weak smile. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about sewing, would you?"

"No, you're supposed to leave the little foot thing up when you use the machine!" Mokuba said, sounding put upon.

Yugi frowned. "Really? I honestly don't know; I'm guessing here."

Mokuba bit his lip. "You're actually probably right; I was leaving it up before and look what happened."

He prodded the jacket, which now had six new out of place runs of stitched to go with the first. The stitches had even started causing the fabric to bunch, resulting in a formless lump of what had once been a five thousand dollar item of clothing.

Sewing was not easy; Yugi had just learned the same lesson as Mokuba through much the same process of trial and error. With much the same result.

Yugi picked up the suit-ball, his purple eyes wide with amazement. He whistled. "I think we killed it."

Mokuba peered over his shoulder, too shocked by the monstrosity he and Yugi had created to be worried about Seto anymore. "I think you're right."

"What do you propose we do next?" Yugi handed the ball to Mokuba.

Mokuba took it. "What can we do? It's…"

"Yeah, I see your point. There's got to be something in here that can help," Yugi said, picking up one of the sewing kits. "Here, what's this? ...A 'Quick Unpick'; that sounds promising."

Mokuba grimaced. "Unpick the whole thing? You have got to be kidding me."

Yugi didn't answer. After sighing, Mokuba closed his eyes. "Okay, get me another one; let's do this."

They settled down on the floor, cross-legged with their knees touching and the disfigured suit between them. Armed with their new weapons, they began the painfully slow process of reversing the damage the two of them had done with the sewing machines.

Their unpicking passed in silence for a while. Mokuba looked up at his unlikely sewing companion a few times, trying to think of something to say.

"Thanks for helping me," he finally murmured.

Yugi looked surprised. "You're welcome – although, I think I just made it worse for you."

Mokuba made a face. "Those sewing machines are just asking for trouble," he agreed. He paused. "But…seriously. Thank you, Yugi. You didn't have to help me, but you did…"

Yugi smiled, returning his gaze to the threads he was unpicking. "It's my pleasure, Mokuba."

They lapsed into silence again.

"Seto is going to murder us as soon as he sees this," Mokuba said quietly. "You…should probably go; get yourself out of the line of fire. He's probably already looking for you anyway; he still wants a duel."

Yugi burst out laughing. "A duel? After seeing this? Come on; he'll skin me alive and throw me out of the place before I can say 'Duel Monsters'."

Mokuba looked doubtful. "That's my main point; if you don't leave before he finds you operating on this…blob, he'll…I don't know what he'll do. But it won't be good."

Yugi just shrugged. "My problem, I guess; I'm just as responsible for this monstrosity as you are, and even if it's futile I'm going to stick with it to the bitter end."

Mokuba laughed, still unpicking the innumerable stitches. "Well said." He returned his gaze to the task at hand. The suit was still unrecognisable. "I wonder if this is how Frankenstein felt when he first laid eyes on his monster."

"I wonder if this is how Stephanie Meyer felt when she finished writing Twilight."

"I wonder if this is how Justin Bieber felt when he released Baby."

Yugi fell silent. "You know, as soon as I get home I'm going to think of a great thing to say to that."

Mokuba smiled. "Mattel when they made the first Barbie doll?"

Yugi grinned. "I really had that one coming."

"Mills and Boon when they published their first book?"

"Okay, seriously, where do you get all this?"

"Early hominids crafting the first needle-"

Yugi threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay! You can list more horrors than I can! You win!"

Mokuba's face suddenly fell, and he diverted his attentions back to the unpicking of Seto's ex-suit, looking crestfallen. "Sorry," he mumbled, blushing. His eyes literally moistened.

Yugi looked up in alarm at this tone. "D- don't cry, Mokuba; I wasn't angry or anything..." he said hurriedly.

Mokuba looked up again. "Oh...sorry."

Yugi rolled his eyes. "Stop apologising; you haven't done anything wrong and I feel super guilty."

Mokuba's face reddened even more. "Sorry."

Yugi laughed. "You will be."

After a moment, Mokuba added in a quieter voice, "I'm not good at...interpreting what people mean sometimes. E- except with Seto, because I've known him all my life. But with everyone else..." He sighed. "I don't know. It's like they're speaking a different language; I get the wrong impression."

Yugi looked up, his eyes clouded with sympathy. Mokuba went on.

"I think it's because I've spent so little time with other people in my life. My only friend in...the orphanage, was Seto, and after we were adopted by Gozaburo, I didn't spend that much time with other people either. I never grew close to anyone."

Mokuba hadn't meant to be so open with Yugi; but all of a sudden, his innermost feelings were pouring out of him like buttermilk. Feeling a tear form, Mokuba brushed it away quickly, not taking his eyes off the stitches. "I- it's just that...nobody understands me."

"I understand you, Mokuba."

Mokuba looked up, his eyes still glazed with tears. "You do?"

Mokuba had never seen such a kind, gentle smile as the one that fell across the face of Yugi Moto. "Of course I do...I've known the same feeling."

Mokuba looked down again. "You couldn't possibly...you're always got your friends around...and there are so many people who love you."

Yugi sighed. "What, fans?" He laughed. "I never wanted to be famous; there are hundreds of better duellists out there who I'm not even worthy of facing; I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I get the best cards from my grandpa, and I've always had him around to teach me about Duel Monsters."

Mokuba didn't need to be an expert to know that this wasn't true; Yugi had risen to face out of skill, not luck. After all, he was the only duellist ever to beat Seto, and Mokuba knew for a fact that there were no other duellists better than him. But before he could interject, Yugi kept talking.

He had dropped his voice slightly. "And...even my friends; I didn't always have them, either."

Mokuba looked up, surprised. "Really?" he asked, his voice a whisper. He couldn't imaging Yugi without his trusted circle of friends around. The 'nerd herd', as Seto called them.

Yugi nodded. "Really; for most of my school life, I was the outcast. The odd one out, the lonely kid in the corner; call me what you will. I spent my lunch times in the classroom playing games by myself."

"Wow..." Mokuba breathed.

Yugi kept unpicking. "I spent eight years working on this one puzzle; Grandpa had told me that if I solved it, it would grant me a wish. And when I did...everything did get a lot better."

A memory surfaced. "That gold pyramid you always wore...the one from Ancient Egypt?" The one the other you came from?

Yugi nodded. "When I finally solved it, it granted my wish..." He looked down again. "Téa, Tristan and Joey have been my best friends ever since. And other people, too; Bakura, Mai, Duke, Serenity...even your brother."

Mokuba nodded in understanding, unable to meet Yugi's eye. He was painfully aware of whose name had not been included in this list.

He wanted to tell Yugi more; he had never been able to open up to anyone like he just had his brother's rival. He felt a strange contention within himself; like he had been missing something and now, after telling Yugi what he had told nobody before, and hearing what Yugi had just said, he had found it.

And yet, for some unknown reason, a tear was sliding down his cheek. Embarrassed, Mokuba brushed it away. "I see," he murmured, unsure of what else he could say. He pulled a new section of the suit closer to him and started unpicking again.

And then, he felt a hand on his own. Looking up, Mokuba saw that Yugi had ceased unpicking entirely. Purple eyes gazed into indigo.

Mokuba blushed. "...Yugi?"

"...What I'm saying is, you won't be alone forever, Mokuba. Things always change. As long as we're still alive, we keep on changing. You'll find somebody who wants to be your friend."

The tears had started to flow freely now, and there was nothing Mokuba could do to stop them. "I will?" he whispered, his voice choked with tears.

"You will; I promise." Yugi reached forward and took the sobbing boy in his arms. Gently rocking him back and forth, Yugi whispered, "You already have."

"Thank you," Mokuba cried, sobbing into Yugi's chest. His entire body was trembling; he had no idea how his self-control had gotten so far away from him.

Mokuba didn't know how long he stayed there, crying into Yugi's chest. He had never shed tears so unnecessarily; surely he felt happy right now?

Soothingly, Yugi stroked Mokuba's back, holding the boy close. "You don't have to be lonely anymore, Mokuba."

"...Oh my god."

"...Oh my god."

Mokuba held up the now unpicked suit, his blood of reptilian temperatures. "We didn't."

"We did." Yugi looked how Mokuba felt; utterly terrified.

The unpicked suit. The completely unpicked suit. The suit that they had unpicked so thoroughly as to unpick the original seams. It now lay in Mokuba's arms as a crumpled pile of expensive material. In individual pieces.

Yugi picked up one of the pieces. "When did this happen?"

"While we were talking..." Mokuba dropped the pile on the floor. "I guess we weren't paying attention to which stitches we were unpicking."

Yugi just stared in silence. Finally, he said, "Well, on the bright side, at least nobody will be able to see the rip."

"That rotten rip."

A moment passed.

"You know what...to hell with it," Mokuba said suddenly. "I give up; I hate this suit and it must be destroyed. Even more so than it already is."

"I support this statement."

Mokuba took a pair of thick fabric scissors and handed them to Yugi. "Care to do the honours?"

Yugi grinned. "With pleasure."

Seto had been searching for Yugi for several hours when it finally occurred to him to ask if Mokuba had seen him. For the life of him, he couldn't think of any other options; everybody in his mansion had checked anywhere he could have gone, twice.

Frustrated, he made his way to his brother's room. If Mokuba hadn't seen Yugi, then he would just have to assume that he had somehow slipped away and left the mansion altogether.

He pushed open the door.

The room was void of human life.

It was, however, filled with sewing equipment, taken from the storage room. Seto had to pick his way through assorted pieces of sewing equipment.

A pile of thick, black strips of fabric lay piled in the centre, and having nowhere else to go, Seto approached it, a frown on his face.

He picked up one of the strips, noticing that it had been written on with yellow tailor's chalk. The writing was blurred and messy, but he was somehow able to make out the writing...

Mokuba was here.

And then, further along the strip:

So was Yugi.

Seto stared at it, dumbfounded. What was that supposed to signify?

Suddenly, he noticed a tag still attached to one of the strips. His heart suddenly jumping, he read it.

He looked at the pile of strips again.

He looked at the tag again.

He had absolutely no idea where his brother and Yugi had run off to in fear.

But he would find them.

He would definitely find them.

And when he did...