A/N: First let me assure you that no matter how much more melancholic this is than my usual fare (though I don't know how apparent that is from what I have currently posted on this site, the things I have favourited should give you a clue), the ending of this fanfiction is not earth-shatteringly tragic and is even, to a certain mind-set, rather uplifting. Now I will follow with the proper Author's Notes.

I have a small confession to make. I had a minor breakdown this afternoon. Apparently, when you give a fanfiction author a breakdown and make them cope with it on their own, they have a small cry, and then they write fanfiction. Or maybe that's just me. I mean, I did need to practice a little with these characters—not actually with writing their personalities (fortunately, because this is so not a canonical-character-exploration piece), but their speech patterns, so I figured 'yo, why not?'

So yeah, this is going to feel a little bit like a Very Special Episode. It's not. There's no overwhelming yet conceivably surmountable obstacle. There's no important lesson to be learned at the end. This is just a brief chapter in the life of a character I have chosen to inflict with a very serious problem that most people have never even heard of for cathartic purposes.

So, needless to say, this is going to be a trace angsty. I'll just get off my soapbox and let you read, yeah?

Yami was the only one who knew.

The others never learned about it—hell, Yugi himself didn't know about it until soon before he completed the Millennium Puzzle, and then it didn't matter—Yami did a lot to help him hide it. His friends never noticed that slowly, Yami was in control of their body more and more often, leaving less of a chance for Yugi to give himself away.

But at home, with his grandfather, in safety, Yami had no excuse to be walking around in Yugi's body. So Yugi gritted his teeth and bore it—what else could he do? It wasn't like there was anything he, Yugi Motou, could really do to stop the pain. There was just the disease that would slowly eat away at his body, stripping him of everything he cherished—his reliance on his body, his ability to spend time with his friends, and slowly but surely, his formidable intellect, leaving behind only a shell of his former self.

As the shrill blaring pierced his ears, Yugi launched himself upright, flinging his hand out at his alarm clock and turning it off. His heart pounded; he slept so lightly these days that it took little noise to disturb his sleep. Something that loud was nearly unbearable.

Laying back, he tried to calm his breathing.

I should really get up, he thought, looking at the door. I want to get up. I should…do…that…

When Yugi opened his eyes again—he'd blinked, he'd swear that was all—ten more minutes had gone by. He fought back the urge to swear—he didn't really swear often at all, it didn't help anything and it was rude—and took a bracing breath. He was still so tired, like Joey last week when he had the flu.

Yugi had stayed away from him for those three days; far away. The last thing he needed was to spend the next few weeks in bed. He felt saddened that he couldn't be with Joey while his friend was suffering, but Yami and Grandpa had each given him their version of The Look, and Yugi knew it was pointless to fight.

"Do you need help, aibou?" Yami asked, and with a start, Yugi realised another ten minutes had gone by. His mind did wander a lot, lately…

"No, I'm fine," Yugi slurred, pushing the words past a scratched and swollen-feeling throat. That was nothing to worry about; it usually went away within about half an hour of waking up. "I'm not gonna fall asleep again." It was true; now that he was a little more awake, he could feel the knots of tension in his neck and shoulders, and the pressure on his head from resting against his pillow was nearly unbearable. He fought his way upright, ignoring the twinges of pain down his back. He was used to them by now.

It had been a long time since he'd actually cried out from pain.

His brow did furrow in annoyance as he stood up, registering the tight, inflamed balls of pain that had taken up residence in his hamstrings. Ahh damn. He'd worn the high-heeled boots a few days ago, and he'd forgotten his exercises last night.

Yugi braced his hands against the wall and pulled each leg back slowly, counting to thirty and resisting the urge to pull back his leg sooner because his hamstrings felt like they were about to snap like rubber-bands.

Hypertension, the doctors called it. Chronic. Unfortunate, really; just exercise and remember your inserts—the real reason he'd gotten rid of all his sandals several years ago.

That quick standing exercise was all he had time for, though—he'd already been in here too long. Yugi grimaced as he descended the stairs—he had a muscle spasm in his right knee now, a nauseating pulsing sensation just under and to the side of his kneecap. It wasn't painful, precisely, but it was annoying. Not to mention gross; he was actually rather glad he couldn't see it through his pyjama pants. There were few things creepier than watching your skin roil and ripple of its own accord.

Absently, Yugi noted a slight cramp in his right hand as well; he'd have to put on his wrist brace when he got home from school.

"Ah, Yugi. I was wondering if I needed to wake you," his grandpa said good-naturedly, pushing a glass of water, a piece of toast, and Yugi's pills towards him. "Now, remember Yugi—"

"Eat first so I don't get sick, I know Grandpa," Yugi smiled, appreciating his grandfather's thoughtfulness.

Solomon went to ruffle his grandson's hair affectionately. Yugi hissed in a breath and pulled away. "Sorry, I forgot," his grandfather said, looking a little sad. "The new brushes are alright?"

Yugi nodded. "Yup, they don't hurt my head at all!"

Solomon nodded and turned to go open the Kame Game Shop for another day of business.

Yami materialised in his semi-transparent 'ghost' form and sat down on the stool beside Yugi's. "That bad today?"

Yugi shrugged, ignoring the tight feeling as the motion pulled the cramped muscles. "No big deal, just he's got callouses and you know Joey's probably going to give me some noogie-love at school."

Yami frowned. "You should just tell him that your scalp's sensitive today, and that you have a headache."

Yugi gave him a come on look. "Yami, I always have a headache."

"It's the thought that counts," Yami replied, shrugging.

Yugi snorted and shook his head, grimacing as he downed the toast. The butter did not at all agree with his rebellious stomach; if he didn't have to cushion the pills with something, Yugi would have much preferred not to eat anything at all.

It was with a bit of dismay that Yugi noticed the medicine spot for today was empty. Using his clumsy fingers to open the other spaces, he groaned—the entire medicine container was empty. He eased himself off his stool and went over to the drawer under the microwave, pulling out the bottles.

Modafinil—to wake him up; even now, his motions were clumsy and the world looked rather hazy to him. Two 100 milligram pills would be very effective for waking him up, but would make him a little loopy too, so he only took one.

Meloxicam—for the pain; Yugi tried to remember whether or not he had Shop today. Meloxicam would last the day without making him loopy, though it didn't eliminate the pain, merely dulled it. However, it messed a little with his fine motor skills, making his hands tremble slightly.

"You don't," Yami assured him, and so Yugi added it to the small pile.

Vitamin C—to boost his good-for-naught immune system.

Vitamin D—for boosting his energy and making up for the fact that frankly, his body just didn't produce enough of it.

Vitamin E—yet another thing his body seemed to forget about; Yugi noticed his nails were starting to flake, so he decided to take two today.

And a Zyrtec, just because it was allergy season.

Yugi swept the pills into his hand and threw them as far to the back of his mouth as he could, gulping from his glass of water. The Modafinil should kick in within half-an-hour to an hour; the Meloxicam would slowly enter his system over the course of the next two hours.

Yugi went to go put the now-empty glass in the sink. He wasn't quite sure what happened then, but suddenly his hand was empty and the glass was on the floor.

"Aibou…"

Yugi closed his eyes and shook his head, crouching down in a movement which his back protested most strongly and picking up the glass, mentally praising the durability of the tumbler. "It's alright, mou hitori no boku."

That was what he hated most—not being able to trust his body, never knowing when a hand or his arm or even a whole leg would just decide to call it quits for a moment. It seemed like the sort of thing that you would expect to at least have warning of, but no. One minute you were carrying something, the next it was on the floor and heaven help you if it was a fragile something.

Yugi got dressed fairly quickly. The Millennium Puzzle would be heavy on anyone, but to him it was sheer agony. Yami looked so guilty as he put the chain around his neck for another day, but he knew better than to suggest Yugi leave the Puzzle at home—they'd tried that once. The physical pain of wearing the Puzzle, however unpleasant, was far outweighed by the soul-deep pain of separation.

It put things in perspective, Yugi had reflected flippantly at the end of that day—after a degree of cuddling and reverent name-saying that could not have been considered platonic between anyone else.

Yugi checked the clock and yelped before running into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Normally, this was a process he took great care with; not today, he didn't have time. So he just tried not to watch as the bristles of his toothbrush sliced into his sensitive gums, wincing a little as the burning toothpaste got into the shallow wounds, and tried not to think about why the foam he spat out was tinted pink.

Yami checked his watch—like the rest of him, it was slightly see through, but as long as he held it up against the pale-coloured wall he was fine. "You will be late unless you leave in the next five minutes."

"Rrgh!" Yugi growled in irritation, sweeping his things into his backpack. "Hey, mou hitori no boku? How much do you love me?"

Yami blinked. "You are my purpose, my very life; unless of course you're asking me to do is—"

"Great, then you wouldn't mind saving me the—"

"—run to school," they finished simultaneously.

"You have longer legs," Yugi pointed out.

"You have more practice," Yami countered.

"I have a chronic disease."

"I'm dead."

Beat.

"Please?" Yugi made his eyes very wide.

Yami made a show of fighting the power of the puppy-eyes, but they both knew he was going to agree—if only because both knew that Yugi didn't have the endurance.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Mr Motou. You're late." Ms Lindor, the substitute teacher, turned to him as soon as he walked in the door.

"Sorry, ma'am," Yugi murmured, ducking his head.

Ms Lindor started to wave him to his seat, then frowned. "Mr Motou, what is that?"

She pointed at the Millennium Puzzle.

"I-it's my necklace," Yugi replied feebly.

Ms Lindor crossed her arms. "Chains are a safety hazard, Mr Motou. I don't know what this school has been doing, but that is a district-wide mandate.

"Give it to me."

"What?" Yugi squeaked, clutching the Puzzle.

"Give it to me. I'll see you get it back at the end of the day." She held out a hand.

Yami!

It's alright, Yugi. We'll get through this. I won't be able to talk to you, but we will not be totally cut off.

Reluctantly—he really had no choice, she was a teacher—he handed her the Puzzle.

Without Yami to ground him, Yugi's mind was spacier than ever. It was so difficult to focus on things; how did other people with his condition bear it?

Still, at least it was History class. He knew the subject, too—it was the French Revolution.

"Now, who can tell me about the Reign of Terror?"

Yugi put his hand up, and Ms Lindor pointed to him. "Mr Motou?"

Yugi stood. "The Reign of Terror started after the deaths of Louis the…um…Sixteenth, and Marie Antoinette. During the Terror, there were many executions as each successive faction turned on the rest. Eventually, the driving force behind the Terror, Maximilien Robespierre, also met his death by—death by—um…"

Oh god, the word, what was the word? Yami was supposed to help him when things like this happened, but Yami couldn't right now.

"Um," Yugi said again, beginning to panic. He did what usually helped in this situation, raising his hand up and bringing the side of it down on the palm of his other, like the blade of a—of a—

Someone began to giggle. Someone else began to snicker.

"Death…by…" Yugi whispered, feeling more and more miserable. He hated it when this happened, when he just couldn't remember things, especially words—spotty memory and word-finding problems, two more lovely symptoms. Dammit, he was a genius, his IQ score said so; why couldn't he just do this?

By now most of the class was laughing softly, one way or the other.

"Settle down," Ms Lindor glared at them. "Death by what, Mr Motou?"

What could behead you? An axe, a sword—no, it was a French word, he knew that. Guh-something. Or Gi-something. Sounded like guitar. Guilt. Gear. All three, but…

"Gi," Yugi murmured to himself. "Gi…gi-uh…gi-uh-teen…guillotine!" he cried, beaming, feeling so unbelievably ridiculously proud of himself, he'd remembered, on his own, he had remembered…

The class burst out laughing, except for Joey, Tristan, Tea, and Bakura—in fact, the first three cast quite severe glares at the students around them.

"Hey! Settle down!" Ms Lindor barked again. "Correct, Mr Motou. And what was the significance of Robespierre's death by guillotine?" she prompted, not unkindly—plainly she was the sort of teacher who quietly supported the teased kid.

"With Robespierre gone, the Terror lost its momentum, and things—settled down pretty quickly," Yugi finished, having somewhat lost his track during the struggle for 'guillotine'.

Yugi just spent the rest of the class trying to avoid the gaze of the class. The other students forgot about the incident pretty quickly; it wasn't as though it were terribly interesting, just sort of funny at the moment. Actually, if it hadn't been in the middle of class with an entire roomful of people waiting on him, Yugi might have thought it was rather funny too—he and Yami still laughed over the time he struggled for 'butter-knife' and had mimed spreading something around on a piece of toast with his hand as the toast for about twenty seconds (Yami had never actually learned what a butter-knife was called, so while he knew exactly what Yugi was talking about, he'd had no idea what word to tell him).

Actually, without the pressure of class, it probably wouldn't have been as difficult to find the word. But Yugi was tired, always tired—he couldn't focus that well without that sort of pressure, let alone with an entire room hanging on his every word.

Over the course of the day, Yugi's friends had started to see more and more of his symptoms. Finally, after school, just before he was about to head back to the History classroom to get the Puzzle back, Tea, Joey, and Tristan cornered him.

"Yug', what's goin' on?" Joey asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yugi lied, widening his eyes in the hopes that 'cute innocence' would serve as an adequate cover-up for his less-than-stellar attempt at deception.

Tea crossed her arms, brow furrowing in concern. "Come on, Yugi! You've been acting weird all day. Forgetting things left and right—" he counted on Yami to remind him when that happened "—forgetting a word in the middle of your sentences; you flunked that pop quiz in math—" that was what happened when you overloaded an already over-stressed brain "—you've been rubbing your wrist all day and just now you were limping."

"Just tell us what's going on," Tristan echoed, fixing Yugi with his brown eyes. "Maybe we can help."

"Well—I—Ms Lindor took the Puzzle away earlier, I haven't seen Yami since then," Yugi said, wondering if a half-truth might suffice.

It didn't. "Yugi, you were good at math before you ever finished the Puzzle," Tea reminded him.

"Yeah, and dere's no way you could be in more pain without like ten pounds of gold hanging offa your neck," Joey pointed out with a certain degree of creative license.

"Guys—"

"Yugi." Tristan crossed his arms. "Come on, man. Don't leave us hanging. We're your friends, right?"

"You won't get it," Yugi informed the floor.

"Try us."

Slowly, Yugi looked up. "Can I get Yami back first?"

"Well, dat depends," Joey said, joining the other two in the arm-crossing department.

Yugi blinked. "What do you mean?"

"It depends on whether or not we'll find ourselves having to pry information out of a certain taciturn Pharaoh instead of you as soon as you've got your magic Egyptian bling back," Tristan elaborated.

Yugi's shoulders slumped. "I…"

"Please, Yugi," Tea said softly, big blue eyes shining. "This isn't like you."

Yugi pushed open the door to an empty classroom. "Come on."

Yugi perched himself on the teacher's desk, his three friends standing in a semicircle before him. He took a deep breath.

"About four years ago, when I was thirteen, my grandpa started noticing something was off. I didn't want to go out to play very much, and though I spent a lot of time with games at first, it didn't last very long. Pretty soon I didn't do much of anything except read; then I just slept, or I tried to.

"Pretty soon, I couldn't even do that." Yugi bit his lip. "The tiniest things would just—annoy me beyond reason; even just the sound of a fly could keep me up all night. And when I did sleep, it was hours after I ever went to bed—I'd wake up at odd times, not even knowing why, and I'd be in pain. Nowhere specific—just everywhere, pain.

"That's when Grandpa started to get worried. He took me to a doctor. That doctor sent me to another doctor. And so on. A few months later, Grandpa and I took a trip to visit this…specialist. Genetics, I think—I wasn't paying much attention. Anyway, this doctor had some tests done—blood, DNA, stuff like that. Asked me tons of weird questions, like could I twist my arms up behind my back or—or clap the soles of my feet together, did my skin stretch—I thought he was completely crazy."

"Sounds like it," Joey murmured in agreement. "Does your skin stretch?"

Yugi presented the back of his hand and pinched it between two fingers, pulling up. The skin came with it, one, two, two and a half inches. The three other teens watched in a sort of morbid fascination as Yugi let go, and the skin fell back into place with a dull slap.

"Actually," Yugi replied, lips twitching, "yes."

"Never. Do. That. Again," Tea instructed him, shuddering.

"I know, it's gross." Yugi giggled for a moment before continuing. "In the end, he told me that I had Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It's a…connective tissue disorder; basically, I'm made of rubber. Problem is, the human body isn't meant to be made of rubber—so it all sort of spirals. And it goes deeper than just things like my muscles and skin. EDS is actually also a bunch of other syndromes all smushed together—Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I'm always tired; I'm on medicine just to be this awake." He smiled wearily. "Fibromyalgia—I always hurt, everywhere—my nerves don't stop. Hypermobility and hypertension. I bend too far in some ways and not enough in others. I can scratch my ears with my toes—but I can't just bend down and touch my toes, my leg muscles are too tight."

"You can't touch your toes?" Tristan asked incredulously. Yugi shrugged.

"One week, I spent every free minute I had doing the exercises I had to stretch my hamstrings. And then I could touch them. The next I put on a pair of low-heeled boots—you know, just the little three-fourths inch ones. I had 'em on for maybe an hour? Long enough to go grocery shopping, that was it. I went to do my exercises again, tried to touch my toes, and I couldn't even reach my ankles," Yugi revealed. "Watch, I forgot to do them last night." He got down off the desk and bent over, his fingertips dangling uselessly about halfway down his calves. "Without pain." He bent a little further, brushing the skin about an inch above his ankles. "With pain," he gritted out, before straightening.

He got back on the desk. "So, CFS, fibro, HMS and hypertension…did I forget anything? Oh yeah. Since I'm always tired and hurting and stuff, my brain doesn't really work anymore. I have trouble finding the right words or figuring out how to phrase things; I have trouble paying attention; people try to explain things to me and I just can't understand it, no matter how simple it is. It's like thinking through a fog some days; other times it's like your brain's on some kind of…hamster wheel, moving fast but never getting anywhere. Or like a computer that's always on and working but since you don't restart it, it winds down and down until it doesn't really work anymore, and it's running and churning and overheating and wearing itself out without doing anything useful.

"I'm always sick to my stomach. I always run about one degree Fahrenheit low. And weird things happen to my muscles—random cramps and spasms and loss of control."

"Loss of—" Tea didn't seem to want to finish the question.

"Just little things," Yugi said, low-voiced. "My hands, mostly, though sometimes one of my legs gets pretty tired, but that's different. Like this morning I dropped a glass on my way to the sink. Nothing happened, I just let go of it without realising it. Still, can you imagine? I mean, how many times has one of us fallen off a cliff or a blimp or whatever and had to rely on someone else to hold them there?" He looked afraid. "How many times was that person me? One day, someone's life might depend on me being able to hold on, and then suddenly I'll just—let go, without even meaning to. Or maybe one day I'll go to put on the Puzzle and I'll drop it, and it'll shatter and mou hitori no boku will be gone forever. Or, I wanted to be a cop once, did you know? But if I ever was one, and had to draw my gun, how would I be sure I wouldn't just drop it?" Yugi shook his head. "It scares me," he admitted.

"Eh, Yug', this ain't like…fatal, is it?" Joey asked. Tea's eyes went wide. "What!"

"Joey!" Tristan exclaimed, looking at him.

"Like youse two weren't thinkin' it!" Joey retorted.

"No, it's not," Yugi replied, looking at the floor. "But it's chronic, and it's…incurable. And…it'll get worse, as I get older; everyone wears out eventually, and I've got a head start."

Utter silence. Then Yugi smiled.

"Hey, come on, guys, it's not the end of the world!"

"That's for sure," Tristan said wryly. "If it were the end of the world, we could do something about it."

Which of course set everyone off laughing.

Tea was the first to get herself under control. "Seriously though, Yugi, is there anything we can do to help?"

Yugi smiled at her. "You already are. Just…" He looked away for a moment. "Just remember, and forget."

And then he left.

"Remember…and forget?" Tristan repeated, brow wrinkling in confusion. "How can you do both at the same time?"

Slowly, Joey grinned. "Aw, easy, man! Same way Yugi does. C'mon, let's see if Yugi and da Pharaoh wanna hit up the Arcade!"

A/N: And there, ladies and gentlemen, you have it. I confess, I am…a little tired of how ignored this particular disease is. It's extremely rare; there are several different varieties and the most common is found in 1 out of every 10,000 people; the rarest has been found in ten people. Total. I won't wear you down with more details (if you even made it through this story to the end and are reading this) but if you want more information, Wikipedia is, extraordinarily, quite well versed on the subject of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome.

Thank you for enduring my catharsis (again, presuming anyone's actually reading this). I'm sure I'll be back to my normal, mostly-sane self by tomorrow and I'll go back to writing things with some actual humour contained therein.