(no subject)
Title: Pride
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh
Characters: Kaiba brothers
For:
30_friends
Theme: 12) Arguement
Word Count: 596
Status: Unpolished (pardon my errors)
It’s been two hours, maybe, since the shouting stopped.
The angry slam of Mokubas bedroom door had called it all to a close, leaving Seto pacing agitatedly around the mansion, encasing his rage and biting back the words he doesn’t want to say, but seem to be spilling from his lips regardless.
He’s making a line towards the most private computer room, weaving his way around expensive trinkets that take the brunt of his rage as he passes.
A smash as fist hits china, or plaster, he’s not sure, but there is a second before the wounds open and blood pours from his fingers. He curses, his eyes glazing over with control. His hands drop to his waist; his face darkens and he fixates on getting to the safety of privacy.
It’s been a while since he’s broken anything, that’s how mad he is, that’s how much Mokuba means to him. He has no idea about how much the vase cost, but it looks better in pieces anyway, a testament to his emotions and not to some jumped up artist.
The pieces crunch under foot as he continues, breathing out his rage.
It was probably worth more than the mutt's entire house, and maybe even Yugi’s game shop too. A slight grin creeps onto his lips, enjoying breaking something they could never hope to afford, picturing the mutt's horror as something so much above him is smashed without a seconds worth of care.
His thoughts distract him from the blood, he’s too in control now to feel the pain, his mind dancing out images to sedate and satisfy.
Like Joey and the rest of that rabble coming to some sort of sticky end so he can point and beam and tell Mokuba `I told you so`. Only in his mind Mokuba would laugh with him, value Seto’s happiness above all else, above all others. Seto knows things don’t work like that, he knows he can’t buy Mokuba like he could buy them, almost everyone has a price. That’s why it hurts, because Seto doesn’t care about them, he cares about Mokuba. He can buy anything he wants in the world, but his brother’s admiration has never been for sale, he earned that, a prize with value, unreachable to all others. Or so he had thought, until that damned group had turned up on his doorstep calling his brother out.
Seto had security escort them off the premises, closing the door sharply in their faces and turning to confront Mokuba on the matter.
The small boy had been livid at Seto’s reaction and had wanted to chase after them to apologise, but Seto had allowed him no such thing. Kaibas do not apologise, not to fools like them.
Seto reaches the door and he leans in for a retinal scan, as always he’s granted access. He slouches heavily into the leather recliner, his fingers roping together in knots and resting under his chin.
He feels tense, his mind is scheming up dark thoughts as he adamantly ignores the main computers queries, after a while she gets the message and goes silent, leaving Seto alone with his thoughts.
He counts it out; he gets to eighty before he can hear the footsteps down the corridor. He knows he can’t push his luck like this forever; Mokuba is already becoming hesitant, next time he may not come at all.
Pale fingers push open the door that Seto has not fully closed.
“Seto…?” Mokuba whispers. “I’m sorry…”
And for once he is glad that Mokuba does not have his pride.