Sometimes (1/2)
Title: Sometimes (1/2)
Fandom/Pairing: Yuugiou; Seto Kaiba x. Mokuba Kaiba
Rating: G
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: Yuugiou is copyright Kazuki Takahashi. Story is copyright V.S.
Notes: Half of a Christmas!gift for queen_of_r. Randomly came about while I was in a rather poetic mood on an airplane (reading Neil Gaiman'll do that to you).
Sometimes, Seto liked to sit in the chair next to Mokuba’s bed and listen to him sleeping.
He didn’t watch. Watching seemed like too much an invasion of privacy, even though he was quite sure Mokuba wouldn’t have minded if he knew. Watching in the dark was too much of a strain on his eyes anyway, and he daren’t turn on any sort of light, lest his disturb his brother’s rest.
He often wondered things, as he sat there with nothing but the soft breathing noises to keep him company. He wondered where he and Mokuba would be now, if they’d not been taken in by Gozaburo. Would they have been ejected from the orphanage when he turned sixteen, or would they still be there? Would some other person have adopted them?
… Someone nice, perhaps? That wouldn’t have suited him, he thought. He knew what kind of person he was, even without Gozaburo’s machinations. He was a driven, independent young man who cared for one person besides himself. He cared for the small, dark-haired boy sleeping next to him.
He wondered if his caring went too far. He wondered if that was really wrong. After all, if you only had one person to care about, you had quite a lot within you that you could give to only them, right? It was likely that humans had an inherent amount of affection they could bestow, possibly a quota for each day that needed to be filled, and it needed to be carefully distributed between the people you had contact with.
This fancy was the sort of thing he’d refuse during the day, during the waking hours. He liked to think he was half-asleep at this time, listening to the soft shhh as Mokuba’s breathed out and imagining the hair he knew was in front of his brother’s face flutter back and forth from it. He smiled at the thought.
He wondered what he’d done to merit having an angel of his own. He didn’t believe he’d done anything particularly outstanding - he’d done nothing but protect all that mattered to him.
Sometimes, Seto knew he’d never love anyone else as much as he loved Mokuba, and he shivered at the intensity of the feeling.
Fandom/Pairing: Yuugiou; Seto Kaiba x. Mokuba Kaiba
Rating: G
Warnings: Slash.
Disclaimer: Yuugiou is copyright Kazuki Takahashi. Story is copyright V.S.
Notes: Half of a Christmas!gift for queen_of_r. Randomly came about while I was in a rather poetic mood on an airplane (reading Neil Gaiman'll do that to you).
Sometimes, Seto liked to sit in the chair next to Mokuba’s bed and listen to him sleeping.
He didn’t watch. Watching seemed like too much an invasion of privacy, even though he was quite sure Mokuba wouldn’t have minded if he knew. Watching in the dark was too much of a strain on his eyes anyway, and he daren’t turn on any sort of light, lest his disturb his brother’s rest.
He often wondered things, as he sat there with nothing but the soft breathing noises to keep him company. He wondered where he and Mokuba would be now, if they’d not been taken in by Gozaburo. Would they have been ejected from the orphanage when he turned sixteen, or would they still be there? Would some other person have adopted them?
… Someone nice, perhaps? That wouldn’t have suited him, he thought. He knew what kind of person he was, even without Gozaburo’s machinations. He was a driven, independent young man who cared for one person besides himself. He cared for the small, dark-haired boy sleeping next to him.
He wondered if his caring went too far. He wondered if that was really wrong. After all, if you only had one person to care about, you had quite a lot within you that you could give to only them, right? It was likely that humans had an inherent amount of affection they could bestow, possibly a quota for each day that needed to be filled, and it needed to be carefully distributed between the people you had contact with.
This fancy was the sort of thing he’d refuse during the day, during the waking hours. He liked to think he was half-asleep at this time, listening to the soft shhh as Mokuba’s breathed out and imagining the hair he knew was in front of his brother’s face flutter back and forth from it. He smiled at the thought.
He wondered what he’d done to merit having an angel of his own. He didn’t believe he’d done anything particularly outstanding - he’d done nothing but protect all that mattered to him.
Sometimes, Seto knew he’d never love anyone else as much as he loved Mokuba, and he shivered at the intensity of the feeling.