[fic] Scraps of paper - Yugioh, YamixYugi, G, angst/romance, theme 071 (100_chances)
Theme: 071 - Scraps of paper; for 100_chances
Author: Chey (duelist_gurl163)
Genre: Angst/romance
Rating: G
Pairings: Yami/Yugi
Archive: Here
Warnings: AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Yami may be gone, but that didn't erase they love they had shared, or the memories of their life together.
Disclaimer: Yugioh does not belong to me. :<
Note: This is sort of a sequel to theme 027 - Vital signs.
---
The sight of Yami’s clothing hanging in the closet was enough to cause more tears to spring to Yugi’s eyes. He wiped them away on his already-damp sleeve for perhaps the hundredth time and took a shaky breath. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected to find all of Yami’s things still in their places, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
No, they aren’t Yami’s anymore, he corrected himself. Everything belonged to Yugi now, Yami’s will had made that perfectly clear, but he had no interest in the possessions he’d inherited. He’d have gladly given them all up to have Yami back. And despite the fact that in the eyes of the law everything now belonged to Yugi, he knew he would never be able to think of these clothes as anything but Yami’s. His feelings toward the clothing gave some insight into why he hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the hospital. He’d stayed in a hotel and bought necessities from a store, never wanting to set foot in the home he and Yami had shared again. He didn’t want the house to be his, he wanted it to be theirs…from the moment he let go of Yami’s limp hand he knew he never wanted to go back.
That was a month ago. Then the real estate agent announced that because he was now the sole owner, he had to choose between selling the house as it was, or going through it and collecting all his personal possessions. And whatever his misgivings, he couldn’t bear the thought of all of Yami’s things, things he’d cared about, just being thrown in the trash by the new owners.
The kitchen hadn’t been too bad. The living room far worse, but he’d handled it. It was cleaning out the bedroom that he dreaded. The moment he walked into it he burst into sobs that took him far too long to stem.
Taking another breath, he pulled an empty box over to the closet doors and began pulling clothes out - his own first, the less painful task. As he finally reached in and pulled out one of Yami’s shirts, he felt the tears coming back, stinging worse than ever.
“Yami…” he murmured, hugging the shirt. Even with the dust, a familiar scent lingered, bringing another bitter pang. Part of him still couldn’t believe that Yami would never wear it again.
Tenderly he folded it into the box, followed by others. Each piece of clothing brought a strange mix of sadness and fondness to him as he remembered some happy memory it invoked. As he did, the bookshelf hidden behind the clothes came into view. Everything on it had a thin coat of dust; they’d tended to ignore the closet on cleaning days. Sneezing, Yugi moved Yami’s clothes out of the way and began sorting through the odds and ends, some of them painful to find. Here were the old games they had once spent long afternoons playing together. And here was the pressed flower, carefully preserved in plastic wrapping, from the night Yami proposed. And here was…
What is this?
He frowned, tugging at a plain, cardboard box shoved into the corner. Brushing dust off the beat-up lid, he thought it looked strangely familiar. Then, after a moment, it hit him.
Could this be…?
Breathless, he pulled the lid off and looked down into a box full of what at first looked like scraps of old paper. His heart pounded.
It is…it really is…
He’d forgotten all about this box. There had been a huge fight a few years after they began dating. After it, every card, every note, everything that Yami had ever written on or held or looked at, he’d thrown in the box, intending to throw it away. But a few days later Yami had come back to ask if they could talk, they’d both apologized, and Yugi had kept the box, finding it a simple way of storing all the letters and cards that Yami had given him during their first few years together.
Hand trembling, he reached in and picked up the first thing, a gift tag from a birthday present with a little note scribbled on it. The next thing he found was a card Yami had left on the table as a surprise one morning. The third, a printed-out e-mail Yami had sent, the very first time he’d ever signed the word “love” at the end of a letter to Yugi.
His lower lip quivering, Yugi sorted through the scraps, each one causing a lump in his throat. He was half-sobbing, and yet with each bit of memory he read he felt himself smile a little, warmed by the sight of Yami’s wishes of love.
This has been here, all this time…
Yugi knew he would have re-found this box eventually, whether Yami was alive or not, but finding it now meant more than anything. He’d entered the house that morning hating it, hating everything inside it. All he wanted was to box up everything and give it to his friends. Yet the more he’d packed, the more he’d found that he wanted to keep. The more he’d found himself reliving the fond memories and instead of hating them, welcoming them. And now this box…that he should find it now, after all these years that he’d forgotten about it, it was almost as if Yami was reaching out to him even in death.
“Are you trying to tell me you still love me?” he whispered aloud, holding an old, faded Valentine’s Day card as tears coursed down his face. “Yami…is this your way of reminding me to smile?”
Lifting his arm, he wiped his face again and saw on a clock nearby how late it was. He could finish packing tomorrow, he had plenty of time. In fact, maybe he would call the real estate agent and ask her to hold off on listing the house. Just a few extra days, what could it hurt?
Back at the hotel, despite the exhaustion of the day, he found himself staying up. Curled on the bed, he re-read each piece of paper, savoring each one, hearing the words spoken in his mind in Yami’s soft voice.
And if finding this was Yami’s way of reminding him of his love, and reminding him to smile…it worked.
X - X - X
Notes: This seemed too sad of a theme to post for Easter, so here it is today instead. x3 And so begins the block of what I call the bittersweet themes.
Author: Chey (duelist_gurl163)
Genre: Angst/romance
Rating: G
Pairings: Yami/Yugi
Archive: Here
Warnings: AU
Spoilers: None
Summary: Yami may be gone, but that didn't erase they love they had shared, or the memories of their life together.
Disclaimer: Yugioh does not belong to me. :<
Note: This is sort of a sequel to theme 027 - Vital signs.
---
The sight of Yami’s clothing hanging in the closet was enough to cause more tears to spring to Yugi’s eyes. He wiped them away on his already-damp sleeve for perhaps the hundredth time and took a shaky breath. It wasn’t like he hadn’t expected to find all of Yami’s things still in their places, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
No, they aren’t Yami’s anymore, he corrected himself. Everything belonged to Yugi now, Yami’s will had made that perfectly clear, but he had no interest in the possessions he’d inherited. He’d have gladly given them all up to have Yami back. And despite the fact that in the eyes of the law everything now belonged to Yugi, he knew he would never be able to think of these clothes as anything but Yami’s. His feelings toward the clothing gave some insight into why he hadn’t returned to the house after leaving the hospital. He’d stayed in a hotel and bought necessities from a store, never wanting to set foot in the home he and Yami had shared again. He didn’t want the house to be his, he wanted it to be theirs…from the moment he let go of Yami’s limp hand he knew he never wanted to go back.
That was a month ago. Then the real estate agent announced that because he was now the sole owner, he had to choose between selling the house as it was, or going through it and collecting all his personal possessions. And whatever his misgivings, he couldn’t bear the thought of all of Yami’s things, things he’d cared about, just being thrown in the trash by the new owners.
The kitchen hadn’t been too bad. The living room far worse, but he’d handled it. It was cleaning out the bedroom that he dreaded. The moment he walked into it he burst into sobs that took him far too long to stem.
Taking another breath, he pulled an empty box over to the closet doors and began pulling clothes out - his own first, the less painful task. As he finally reached in and pulled out one of Yami’s shirts, he felt the tears coming back, stinging worse than ever.
“Yami…” he murmured, hugging the shirt. Even with the dust, a familiar scent lingered, bringing another bitter pang. Part of him still couldn’t believe that Yami would never wear it again.
Tenderly he folded it into the box, followed by others. Each piece of clothing brought a strange mix of sadness and fondness to him as he remembered some happy memory it invoked. As he did, the bookshelf hidden behind the clothes came into view. Everything on it had a thin coat of dust; they’d tended to ignore the closet on cleaning days. Sneezing, Yugi moved Yami’s clothes out of the way and began sorting through the odds and ends, some of them painful to find. Here were the old games they had once spent long afternoons playing together. And here was the pressed flower, carefully preserved in plastic wrapping, from the night Yami proposed. And here was…
What is this?
He frowned, tugging at a plain, cardboard box shoved into the corner. Brushing dust off the beat-up lid, he thought it looked strangely familiar. Then, after a moment, it hit him.
Could this be…?
Breathless, he pulled the lid off and looked down into a box full of what at first looked like scraps of old paper. His heart pounded.
It is…it really is…
He’d forgotten all about this box. There had been a huge fight a few years after they began dating. After it, every card, every note, everything that Yami had ever written on or held or looked at, he’d thrown in the box, intending to throw it away. But a few days later Yami had come back to ask if they could talk, they’d both apologized, and Yugi had kept the box, finding it a simple way of storing all the letters and cards that Yami had given him during their first few years together.
Hand trembling, he reached in and picked up the first thing, a gift tag from a birthday present with a little note scribbled on it. The next thing he found was a card Yami had left on the table as a surprise one morning. The third, a printed-out e-mail Yami had sent, the very first time he’d ever signed the word “love” at the end of a letter to Yugi.
His lower lip quivering, Yugi sorted through the scraps, each one causing a lump in his throat. He was half-sobbing, and yet with each bit of memory he read he felt himself smile a little, warmed by the sight of Yami’s wishes of love.
This has been here, all this time…
Yugi knew he would have re-found this box eventually, whether Yami was alive or not, but finding it now meant more than anything. He’d entered the house that morning hating it, hating everything inside it. All he wanted was to box up everything and give it to his friends. Yet the more he’d packed, the more he’d found that he wanted to keep. The more he’d found himself reliving the fond memories and instead of hating them, welcoming them. And now this box…that he should find it now, after all these years that he’d forgotten about it, it was almost as if Yami was reaching out to him even in death.
“Are you trying to tell me you still love me?” he whispered aloud, holding an old, faded Valentine’s Day card as tears coursed down his face. “Yami…is this your way of reminding me to smile?”
Lifting his arm, he wiped his face again and saw on a clock nearby how late it was. He could finish packing tomorrow, he had plenty of time. In fact, maybe he would call the real estate agent and ask her to hold off on listing the house. Just a few extra days, what could it hurt?
Back at the hotel, despite the exhaustion of the day, he found himself staying up. Curled on the bed, he re-read each piece of paper, savoring each one, hearing the words spoken in his mind in Yami’s soft voice.
And if finding this was Yami’s way of reminding him of his love, and reminding him to smile…it worked.
X - X - X
Notes: This seemed too sad of a theme to post for Easter, so here it is today instead. x3 And so begins the block of what I call the bittersweet themes.