Prompt #50 - Heated
Here's the table again for good measure <3
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The first thing Yuugi did was sigh, and that was not a good sign. Especially not when followed up with, "Yami, I'm not sure what to say."
They needed to talk about the current state of affairs between them, and unfortunately for the two of them, the afternoon was full of work for Yami and school for Yuugi. He needed to catch Yuugi before class and before the shop had to be open, and that wasn't an easy thing to arrange while they were both distracted. It seemed that, more than anything else, Yuugi wanted to run away from the whole situation and pretend it never happened. That was an easy thing to do with Rebecca and Mokuba in tow, and they both knew it.
But Yami was determined to have this conversation and as sleepy as they both might have been, being tired might help keep their emotions as bay. They absolutely had to get a grip on how they affected each other - their relationship seemed to depend on it. This conversation would be less stressful if they hadn't had other versions of this conversation before; if the two of them hadn't established and re-established their relationship several times in the wake of their breakup. Years later, however, there was no excuse.
No matter how he thought of it, Yami felt this was a matter of honesty - and primarily, Yuugi's lack of it. Their mental connection was frustrating at times, and it made things difficult between them, but at no point had he ever wished to be able to turn it off, to be unaware of how Yuugi was doing or if help was needed. Not only had Yuugi figured out how to do it, but Yami was faced with the inevitable truth that at any time, the calm quiet he felt between them could be a lie. The silence from their link at that very moment could be false.
It likely was.
Yuugi's dishonesty didn't change what happened, either. Yami had kissed him, point blank. And that was problematic in and of itself. But connected as they were, whenever they were, it was easy to get swept up in their emotions when they bled over. They hadn't regressed, to how they had been before; the two of them hadn't woken up in bed together, tangled or crying or broken. Things could have been much worse. Yami had apologized immediately after and still had been insulted, nearly accused of doing it on purpose, even after knowing the difficulty in fighting the force that kept them linked.
If he was honest, that implication was what hurt most of all. Maybe Yuugi had been disconnected from him for so long that the same pull he felt wasn't as effective. But if there was a way around it, why hadn't it been shared with him? Yami didn't like being pulled into emotions that weren't his own. He didn't like being reminded that, when he wanted to be alone, there was no more Yuugi to retreat into. There was only this one body, this one mind; their shared emotions only made it more painful, and that was not something he would participate in intentionally.
These and more thoughts lingered on his mind as he cornered Yuugi and made it clear that they were going to speak. The 'best' time was no longer important. At the point where he was being made to fake enjoying a dinner with anyone's girlfriend, they needed to work things out.
You had better say something, Yami thought after the silence has stretched for almost three minutes, or I'm going to reach over this counter and choke you. But he held himself, conentrating on the patterned surface of the kitchen counter while he waited.
Finally, after nearly two minutes of staring, Yuugi sighed again. "I know what you want to hear, but it's hard to describe how I feel." He waited a few seconds before continuing. "It's ...a lot of things. I thought that we were okay. I had forgiven you. I wanted to understand how you felt."
Yami shook his head. If he'd been forgiven for the kiss already, they wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place. "Forgive me for what?" He was no fool; there were a number of instances that had happened between them that required it, and Yuugi could have been referencing any of them.
Their separation had been rough and truthfully neither of them had wanted it, even if Yami knew it was for the best. Even a year after they had decided they two of them made mistakes. It was too easy for them to fall into each other, with how close they were. They had tried, in every iteration that they could think of, to find reasons to be back together. Sometimes the distance, at least emotionally, had been too much for one or either of them. Yami remembered very vividly nights spent curled up with Yuugi in bed, regretting the decision to do just that. Those moments began just like this one had - seeking advice and comfort from each other. Comfort would turn to touching and sweet whispers, and then...
Yuugi's eyebrows knitted, and he looked away. They both remembered. "For breaking up with me."
Ah, that. Yami looked away, too. It was frustrating to know that, after so many years of recovery, it was still just as painful them as before. Measuring progress while facing backwards was impossible. Those feelings were uncontrollable, and if he were honest, he didn't want to talk about them. So of course that's it, he reasoned. With Yuugi it seemed they always argued over the most difficult things; when they messed up concerning each other it could never be a simple matter.
After another pause, Yuugi continued. "I love you, Yami. That's not going to change. But it's difficult, watcing you do stupid things when I know I could make you happy."
Yami opened his mouth to speak, but Yuugi cut him off as he kept going.
"But that was your decision and I wanted what you wanted. You don't understand what watching you is like. You went into that..." Yuugi made a face, "that whore phase when you were just sleeping with everything that breathed. You could have gotten a disease, you could have gotten into some sort of trouble running with that weird club crowd, or god knows what else."
Yami took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Objectively, Yuugi wasn't wrong. So far as distractions went, he had picked a few of the more dangerous ones. He forced himself to admit that, first of all. It was important for Yuugi to know that he agreed. "That was a difficult time for me, Yuugi. I'm not proud of it--"
"You better not be. But you don't know what it's like, waiting at four in the morning to see if you'll come home? No, you don't." Yuugi sighed again, but this time sought eye contact.
You didn't have to worry. Or wait. But that wasn't the right thing to say. It was honest, but ungrateful.
The complexity of their relationship aside, Yuugi did those things to be helpful - because yes, even when they weren't romantically intertwined, there was love there. But in the aftermath of everything, it had been suffocating; what they needed most was space and maybe that had been the problem: the two of them were so worried about losing each other that they hadn't been able to let go. In his usual haphazard way, Yami had managed it by relying on others, strangers even sometimes. He'd found that it was easier to sleep when sated, be it by drink or drugs or the body of another, and at a certain point of his life - though he wasn't proud of it - he'd become dependent on those things to keep him occupied. After that began the two of them didn't talk much. Yuugi's disapproval had been quite clear at the time and he hadn't thought there much more to discuss on the matter.
That assumption was wrong, apparently. There seemed to be so much more. Stuff held in for years. And while Yami was upset that they were only discussing it then, he was more interested in actually understanding what was going through Yuugi's head - especially since he wouldn't be let in as easily anymore. No matter what, Yuugi deserved benefit of the doubt; too much had transpired between them for Yami to simply give up out of anger or irritation.
As though to confirm that there was something important yet unheard the connection between them pulsed, suddenly, with emotion. He wished that he could say it was simply Yuugi being kind, but it was more likely intensity. Yami tried to keep himself alert, to be prepared to try to defend himself against Yuugi's feelings bleeding over if need be. It was all or nothing with them and it had always been. Maybe he needed to get used to the fact that there would never be compromise.
"I want to hear the rest," Yami told him.
"How was I supposed to talk to you about that?" Yuugi sniffed, which was not a good sign. "There's no way to do it. You wouldn't have listened to me."
Yami nodded. If he were in Yuugi's shoes He probably wouldn't have tried, either. At the time he had tried to give Yuugi a change to live his life without the constant interaction they'd had before. Time and time again showed them that, at least at the beginning of their break up they needed space. And he hadn't gone about providing it the right way.
"And then there was Marik." Yuugi resumed, looking away again. Fists clenched at his sides, and Yami eyed them warily. "He just came along and fixed everything. What did he have that I didn't? But I figured it out. You weren't his spirit. You didn't feel like it was forced."
That much was true. It was hard feeling comfortable while also aware of being a product of fate. Yami didn't want to be a burden, some thing that had simply been shoved into Yuugi's life as an obstacle to cope with; but that was all that he had ever been. They could cover it up however they liked with kisses and sex and commitment, but facts couldn't be denied. Yami hated that about himself, that he could never be more than that. There was no way to earn back or repay such a debt. He felt baser and unworthy because of it. That feeling ate at him. The least he could do, he thought, was allow Yuugi to live life unfettered by his existence.
Everyone had worried about him when they broke things off, had some of the same concerns Yuugi had with him going out keeping busy with others.
Marik didn't 'fix' anything. However the man had simply been a convenient - and later, even good - match. Even as he stood there, facing Yuugi and his past, memories of Marik were warm and comforting. It hadn't been a sustainable thing, but when they'd been together Yami felt absolutely infallible. Marik never worried about him and always had complete confidence in him. He knew that it was a dangerous outlook to have about any person but, for the time they'd been together it had been exactly what he needed.
If he were honest, Yami would admit that he still missed it.
"It gave me closure the first few times we talked about it - since we were talking again. You were happy, so I supported you. I was getting over you and we were getting close again. You'd let me touch you. And we didn't..." Yuugi paused, and Yami knew which words were difficult: there were only so many ways to dance around not 'accidentally' sleeping together again.
There seemed unable to find a better way to say it, so Yuugi just kept on. "But then you left him too. And that's scary to me. I don't know what you want anymore, or who you want. Marik had everything that I didn't and he wasn't good enough either. It doesnt make sense to me. But you don't talk to me about that - so I don't know what to think anymore. " Yuugi sighed, then, shoulders slumping.
It was too much to think about all at once, but Yami still tried to organize it in his head; pick through the things he'd heard before and separate them from things that were new. He knew, from experience, that Yuugi understanding the reason why he felt so trapped was nigh impossible. For all intents and purposes, Yuugi and - their - friends' involvement had only been temporary; Yami's had involved his entire life and, since he was still around, perhaps more than one. If it were possible to still reach through their link and share his exact thoughts, how difficult even standing there in the kitchen was for him, he would have.
So he discarded those topics, and that didn't leave him with much. Just questions whose answers wouldn't change anything. All those words, and nothing about what was current.
"And now there's Mokuba - I don't even know how that happened," Yuugi concluded silently.
It left him scrambling for a response. He still wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be responding to. To the conversation's credit, at least Yuugi had put it out there, had finally told him. There were certainly things that Yami wished he could take back or do over, even if he didn't regret the decisions made themselves. Yami worked hard to make his intentions and reasoning known, but he knew it wasn't always that easy. Being so privy to each others' thoughts and feelings, sometimes it was easier to allow each other privacy. They talked about some things, but only about what appeared on the surface, unless they were ready.
Silence settled between them again, and Yami realized that, as delayed as this was, Yuugi still wasn't ready to talk about this. Every second of struggle to articulate years-old sentiments made that clear. But if they didn't get over everything that had happened then, they definitely wouldn't be able to address what was happening between them at the moment.
Yami decided that he needed to say something. As things stood, Yuugi was fragile, and he couldn't allow those declarations to just hang in the air like that, without response or apology. They still had issues to address but this was much more complicated than he'd thought at first. And if he could help make closure between them a bit more substantial, there was no question about what had to be done.
Frowning, he said, "Marik wasn't better than you. I thought you should know that." It seemed like a good place to start. Positive, encouraging, perhaps adding a bit of closure.
Yuugi nodded, but hugged himself rather than reply.
"I'm sorry that it's too late for account for your feelings," Yami added. "If I had known - things would have been different. Everything I did afterward was pretty reckless. I can't lie about that." Except Marik. By comparison, that was in fact the best decision he'd made so far. Not hat Yuugi would ever know.
"Yup." The response was despondent. Though Yuugi stood still, renewed and rigid posture gave away the effort it took to do just that.
It would always be difficult for them both, he decided. There was no such thing as reprieve from each other.
He wasn't interested in hashing out the same debate from years ago. Yuugi would never agree that the two of them had been forced together, so Yami didn't really want to touch that at all. They'd just end up having the same fight that they'd been having off and on since they'd broken up. And Yuugi wasn't ready to talk about anything else, so...
Suddenly Yuugi took steps away from the kitchen, retreating. Yami shook his head. He wasn't through yet! Maybe it was clear that this wouldn't be the conversation that settled things between them once and for all, but that was no reason to leave it incomplete. One way or another, tripping and dragging, there was a little more on the table between than there had been before, and it was his responsibility to address it.
"Wait, Yuugi," he said hastily. It made no sense for them to end on the exact same note they'd started on. If Yuugi needed to discuss the past, then they would. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I was just trying to to take your feelings into consideration. I didn't want you to feel like..." He faded out and didn't replace the quiet that had rushed in.
There was no way to explain how he felt without breaching into that territory. Yami wanted to believe that they could finish this without having to go into those details.
Unfortunately, Yuugi had already been able to tell where he had been about to go. That small body whipped around to face him and suddenly seethed. "I wasn't obligated to love you," Yuugi spat, "but I did. And I can't make you believe that, so why bother trying? I've tried for the last four or five years; it hasn't gotten me anywhere." Violet eyes watered, threatening tears.
In that small place where their feelings could nearly touch one another, Yami was sure that he could feel both their emotions swelling; his own bubbling up from a simmer and Yuugi's just beginning to boil over.
Not good, he thought, both to make mental note and confirm that their feelings were still separate. Sometimes they bled together, and he couldn't pick his thoughts apart.
"Yuugi," he said slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check, "do you think you would have fallen for me had the puzzle been given to someone else? If we'd even met?" That was the simplest way to put it. It was a yes or no question; short answer. And they both already knew what it was.
The look in Yuugi's eyes, familiar in their anger, made it clear that Yami had failed. "You just don't get it." Yuugi threw his hands into the air in frustration. There was no getting around it - . "That's not important, and a stupid question! That's like asking if Marik would have been attracted to you if he wasn't Egyptian, or if I would have gone to college if I went to a different high school and hadn't met Jou or Anzu - none of that is the point! It doesn't make any fucking difference, Yami!"
Yuugi sniffed again, pulled a lip between his teeth and let the first few tears fall before speaking. "Those things don't mean anything, because things happened the way they did and they are the way they fucking are and--"
"Yuugi!"
Things could get worse, apparently. That shout, though muffled by distance, was Sugoroku. Apparently they could be heard halfway across the house. "It's too early in the morning for all that shouting!"
Yuugi cringed, wiping his eyes. They were officially in dangerous territory, emotionally. "Things happened this way," it was uttered as a hiss, "because they did. I don't undestand how you could just say I'm conditional, or that I don't mean what I say."
It was too intense for him to resist; Yami practically felt the despair wash over him, felt his body take in the same tension that Yuugi had been resisting. That was such an awful feeling, to be devoted complete and lack certainty in reciprocation. They were supposed to be friends who loved and cared about each other no matter what. Yuugi was his partner, and he was failing miseably at being a good companion.
Yami took a long, steadying breath, tried to sort his feelings from the ones that were pressuring him. Yes, he did want to make up with Yuugi - no, he didn't want to make up with Yuugi. He was supposed to be standing his ground while offering comfort from a distance. Trying to do it from closer was the reason why they weren't getting along in the first place. Suddenly, he was aware that he was failing at everything: his attempts to talk, to patch things, to communicate effectively - no, wait, that was Yuugi - at getting to the bottom of things.
That distinction was sobering enough to help him keep it together. "It's not that it doesn't mean anything," Yami attempted to explain. He moved a little closer, the connection between them still pulsing. His eyes watered as he drew in another breath and he wiped them dry. "I haven't abandoned you. I know that you mean what you're saying to me."
The only warning for what was about to be said was that the mingling emotions between them grew in intensity. "If I only love you because the Items made it this way, doesn't that mean my feelings aren't real?" Yuugi cried outright, didn't hide himself; simply sniffed in between statements. "You've gotten everything you've want when you wanted it. Everything. And you took the one thing away from me that I needed from you. Then I try to be happy with someone else and you get upset because I'm guarding my feelings?"
Yuugi being unhappy was suddenly unbareable. Knowing it caused a swelling in his chest that made every breath tight and uncomfortable. He couldn't tell whether or not that feeling originated with him, but it didn't matter at this point. "No, no, that's not it..." Yami pleaded, and he since he was aware of the rush of emotion, he tried to ease into it this time instead of being overwhelmed by it.
The chance for explanation was gone, now. Yuugi thought that it was fine to simply close himself off, to call his deception being guarded, and he couldn't interpret it that way. What was happening now would never be disconnected from the way things had been between them. You have to accept this, he told himself. The two of them weren't over each other at all - and maybe they would never be.
Limbs cried out for Yami to move and he couldn't help himself. His arms were around Yuugi, steps closing the distance between them, before he had the chance to think about it if was the right thing to do. It had to have been. He couldn't just let Yuugi stand there, crying, and not do anything about it.
"Don't touch me." The voice was soft, the sob instead louder in his ear. But there was no push, no fight or struggle; Yuugi just cried.
So he pushed through. That was the least he could do in a situation this complex. Yuugi shifted and arms lifted almost as though to wrap around Yami, but they stopped short and gripped his shirt instead. In the end, Yuugi just clutched Yami's shirt and sobbed.
It was a little too late not to be moved. Furious pounding in his heart and in his head made that clear. Yami made sure that there was no repeat of the last time. Yuugi's emotions flooded him, and there was so much hurt there, so much uncertainty. The pain was almost physical; muscles strained to not collapse upon themselves and he could barely keep from shaking as he drew breath. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, but he didn't sob and didn't make noise outside of the occasional sniff.
Though they were both pulled under the force of sentiment there was no doubt that all of this was for Yuugi. There wasn't much else Yami could do but offer support. In fact, he hated having to deal with their issues only when they boiled over the top; there was little growth to be found in it. Yami had to wokr with what he had been given, though, as It was impossible to handle these sorts of hardships on his own.
A part of him felt trapped, constantly ensnared by emotions with no defense against them.
Loving Yuugi wasn't something that he could just stop doing. He could already feel it, that soothing warmth between them. When they felt similarly, it was intoxicating. What was more comforting than contact with another person who understood the swirling, tumultuous cloud of thoughts and considerations inside? It would have been nothing for Yami to lean over and kiss him; it would have been like breathing.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into Yuugi's ear, instead. Hearing himself speak helped keep his grip on reality, on the fact that they were separate now even if their feelings weren't always. And he was genuinely sorry, not just for their misunderstanding but everything leading to it. There were many things that Yami would still have decided to do, even knowing the outcome, but this was not one of them.
Yuugi nodded, and he held on tightly until those tears became sniffles again. "I'm gonna be late for class," But a few seconds still passed before there was movement.
Yami felt strained as he untangled himself from Yuugi. He grimaced and forced his arms to his sides. They were tightened coils, ready to spring toward Yuugi again at a moment's notice. He hated it; it shouldn't have been that hard to simply let go of another person. Or so easy to reach for their touch again.
Yuugi took a tentiative step backward, wiping his eyes again. He said, "Thanks ...for listening and everything."
And for not making this more than you could handle, Yami finished in his thoughts. It was his turn to nod, because there was no truly appropriate response. How would Yuugi react to him if Yami was to tell him that, at that very moment, he would have very gladly done much more damage than a simple kiss? It was better to keep that to himself.
"Yami, I..." Yuugi reached for his hand, but after a moment seemed to think better of it and pulled it back. "I don't think I'll ever stop caring about you. I just wanted you to understand how hard it is to be 'normal' with you. So I get thrown off when stuff like this happens."
Yami frowned. He supposed that, even if they didn't agree, he could at least let Yuugi know that he wasn't ill-intentioned either.
"Understanding isn't the hard part, Yuugi. You aren't the only one suffering. The feelings I have for you - they didn't go away. They didn't disappear." He ran both hands through his hair to keep them occupied. "They're still here. I'm still attracted to you - I still miss you from time to time. Did you even bother to wonder why that kiss happened in the first place? It's hard being connected to you and having feelings for you all at the same time. I wasn't using you, Yuugi. I just lost control. It was a mistake and I made things worse. I am not as good as you, apparently, at keeping our link at bay." It was hard to resist mentioning the last bit, since that it was supposed the topic of conversation.
Yuugi didn't seem to have a reply for him, and Yami didn't trust himself to say much more. A few minutes of silence passed between them, and they just stared at each other. Yami wondered if Yuugi could feel the jumble of emotions inside of him, or the desire hidden underneath. It was hard not to be relieved when Yuugi, without warning, turned away from him to retreat. There was nothing relevant that Yami could say to stop him, nothing that could be said to ease the tension.
With Yuugi getting ready for class, Yami was left to stand by himself in the kitchen. It felt awkward to move anywhere else, too much like he was dismissing the heavy topics just discussed. Nothing had been resolved, but the two of them would just have to disagree and learn to deal with it.
No matter how he looked at it, they were still pretty screwed. There were clearly powerful emotions tied between them even years later. But they were broken up, regardless of those feelings, and each with someone else. That added another dimension to things - would they ever get over their pasts? For all Yami knew, Rebecca could have been to Yuugi what he had once sought: distraction, definition. They couldn't very well fall back into each other if they were committed to others, after all. It was easier to keep from focusing on the problems they'd ignored if they were obligated to have their attention elsewhere.
That was a sad thought. They both held their partners like double-edged swords.just made those issues more difficult to deal with. He didn't want it to be true, at least not about himself. For all of his complaining, he didn't dislike Mokuba or the way things had developed with him. And he definitely didn't want to back to the way that things were before. The signs of denial were still there, though. Yami didn't feel comfortable discussing how drawn he was to Yuugi, with anyone. It had been hard opening up about what little he'd told Mokuba already.
He couldn't be the only one who felt trapped by the bond the Puzzle had forged between them. The aching, the urge to hold on and not let go... Yuugi had to have felt it as well. It was the problem, the elephant in the room, and Yami didn't envy the moment that he knew would come: when they would have no choice but to address it directly.
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The first thing Yuugi did was sigh, and that was not a good sign. Especially not when followed up with, "Yami, I'm not sure what to say."
They needed to talk about the current state of affairs between them, and unfortunately for the two of them, the afternoon was full of work for Yami and school for Yuugi. He needed to catch Yuugi before class and before the shop had to be open, and that wasn't an easy thing to arrange while they were both distracted. It seemed that, more than anything else, Yuugi wanted to run away from the whole situation and pretend it never happened. That was an easy thing to do with Rebecca and Mokuba in tow, and they both knew it.
But Yami was determined to have this conversation and as sleepy as they both might have been, being tired might help keep their emotions as bay. They absolutely had to get a grip on how they affected each other - their relationship seemed to depend on it. This conversation would be less stressful if they hadn't had other versions of this conversation before; if the two of them hadn't established and re-established their relationship several times in the wake of their breakup. Years later, however, there was no excuse.
No matter how he thought of it, Yami felt this was a matter of honesty - and primarily, Yuugi's lack of it. Their mental connection was frustrating at times, and it made things difficult between them, but at no point had he ever wished to be able to turn it off, to be unaware of how Yuugi was doing or if help was needed. Not only had Yuugi figured out how to do it, but Yami was faced with the inevitable truth that at any time, the calm quiet he felt between them could be a lie. The silence from their link at that very moment could be false.
It likely was.
Yuugi's dishonesty didn't change what happened, either. Yami had kissed him, point blank. And that was problematic in and of itself. But connected as they were, whenever they were, it was easy to get swept up in their emotions when they bled over. They hadn't regressed, to how they had been before; the two of them hadn't woken up in bed together, tangled or crying or broken. Things could have been much worse. Yami had apologized immediately after and still had been insulted, nearly accused of doing it on purpose, even after knowing the difficulty in fighting the force that kept them linked.
If he was honest, that implication was what hurt most of all. Maybe Yuugi had been disconnected from him for so long that the same pull he felt wasn't as effective. But if there was a way around it, why hadn't it been shared with him? Yami didn't like being pulled into emotions that weren't his own. He didn't like being reminded that, when he wanted to be alone, there was no more Yuugi to retreat into. There was only this one body, this one mind; their shared emotions only made it more painful, and that was not something he would participate in intentionally.
These and more thoughts lingered on his mind as he cornered Yuugi and made it clear that they were going to speak. The 'best' time was no longer important. At the point where he was being made to fake enjoying a dinner with anyone's girlfriend, they needed to work things out.
You had better say something, Yami thought after the silence has stretched for almost three minutes, or I'm going to reach over this counter and choke you. But he held himself, conentrating on the patterned surface of the kitchen counter while he waited.
Finally, after nearly two minutes of staring, Yuugi sighed again. "I know what you want to hear, but it's hard to describe how I feel." He waited a few seconds before continuing. "It's ...a lot of things. I thought that we were okay. I had forgiven you. I wanted to understand how you felt."
Yami shook his head. If he'd been forgiven for the kiss already, they wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place. "Forgive me for what?" He was no fool; there were a number of instances that had happened between them that required it, and Yuugi could have been referencing any of them.
Their separation had been rough and truthfully neither of them had wanted it, even if Yami knew it was for the best. Even a year after they had decided they two of them made mistakes. It was too easy for them to fall into each other, with how close they were. They had tried, in every iteration that they could think of, to find reasons to be back together. Sometimes the distance, at least emotionally, had been too much for one or either of them. Yami remembered very vividly nights spent curled up with Yuugi in bed, regretting the decision to do just that. Those moments began just like this one had - seeking advice and comfort from each other. Comfort would turn to touching and sweet whispers, and then...
Yuugi's eyebrows knitted, and he looked away. They both remembered. "For breaking up with me."
Ah, that. Yami looked away, too. It was frustrating to know that, after so many years of recovery, it was still just as painful them as before. Measuring progress while facing backwards was impossible. Those feelings were uncontrollable, and if he were honest, he didn't want to talk about them. So of course that's it, he reasoned. With Yuugi it seemed they always argued over the most difficult things; when they messed up concerning each other it could never be a simple matter.
After another pause, Yuugi continued. "I love you, Yami. That's not going to change. But it's difficult, watcing you do stupid things when I know I could make you happy."
Yami opened his mouth to speak, but Yuugi cut him off as he kept going.
"But that was your decision and I wanted what you wanted. You don't understand what watching you is like. You went into that..." Yuugi made a face, "that whore phase when you were just sleeping with everything that breathed. You could have gotten a disease, you could have gotten into some sort of trouble running with that weird club crowd, or god knows what else."
Yami took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Objectively, Yuugi wasn't wrong. So far as distractions went, he had picked a few of the more dangerous ones. He forced himself to admit that, first of all. It was important for Yuugi to know that he agreed. "That was a difficult time for me, Yuugi. I'm not proud of it--"
"You better not be. But you don't know what it's like, waiting at four in the morning to see if you'll come home? No, you don't." Yuugi sighed again, but this time sought eye contact.
You didn't have to worry. Or wait. But that wasn't the right thing to say. It was honest, but ungrateful.
The complexity of their relationship aside, Yuugi did those things to be helpful - because yes, even when they weren't romantically intertwined, there was love there. But in the aftermath of everything, it had been suffocating; what they needed most was space and maybe that had been the problem: the two of them were so worried about losing each other that they hadn't been able to let go. In his usual haphazard way, Yami had managed it by relying on others, strangers even sometimes. He'd found that it was easier to sleep when sated, be it by drink or drugs or the body of another, and at a certain point of his life - though he wasn't proud of it - he'd become dependent on those things to keep him occupied. After that began the two of them didn't talk much. Yuugi's disapproval had been quite clear at the time and he hadn't thought there much more to discuss on the matter.
That assumption was wrong, apparently. There seemed to be so much more. Stuff held in for years. And while Yami was upset that they were only discussing it then, he was more interested in actually understanding what was going through Yuugi's head - especially since he wouldn't be let in as easily anymore. No matter what, Yuugi deserved benefit of the doubt; too much had transpired between them for Yami to simply give up out of anger or irritation.
As though to confirm that there was something important yet unheard the connection between them pulsed, suddenly, with emotion. He wished that he could say it was simply Yuugi being kind, but it was more likely intensity. Yami tried to keep himself alert, to be prepared to try to defend himself against Yuugi's feelings bleeding over if need be. It was all or nothing with them and it had always been. Maybe he needed to get used to the fact that there would never be compromise.
"I want to hear the rest," Yami told him.
"How was I supposed to talk to you about that?" Yuugi sniffed, which was not a good sign. "There's no way to do it. You wouldn't have listened to me."
Yami nodded. If he were in Yuugi's shoes He probably wouldn't have tried, either. At the time he had tried to give Yuugi a change to live his life without the constant interaction they'd had before. Time and time again showed them that, at least at the beginning of their break up they needed space. And he hadn't gone about providing it the right way.
"And then there was Marik." Yuugi resumed, looking away again. Fists clenched at his sides, and Yami eyed them warily. "He just came along and fixed everything. What did he have that I didn't? But I figured it out. You weren't his spirit. You didn't feel like it was forced."
That much was true. It was hard feeling comfortable while also aware of being a product of fate. Yami didn't want to be a burden, some thing that had simply been shoved into Yuugi's life as an obstacle to cope with; but that was all that he had ever been. They could cover it up however they liked with kisses and sex and commitment, but facts couldn't be denied. Yami hated that about himself, that he could never be more than that. There was no way to earn back or repay such a debt. He felt baser and unworthy because of it. That feeling ate at him. The least he could do, he thought, was allow Yuugi to live life unfettered by his existence.
Everyone had worried about him when they broke things off, had some of the same concerns Yuugi had with him going out keeping busy with others.
Marik didn't 'fix' anything. However the man had simply been a convenient - and later, even good - match. Even as he stood there, facing Yuugi and his past, memories of Marik were warm and comforting. It hadn't been a sustainable thing, but when they'd been together Yami felt absolutely infallible. Marik never worried about him and always had complete confidence in him. He knew that it was a dangerous outlook to have about any person but, for the time they'd been together it had been exactly what he needed.
If he were honest, Yami would admit that he still missed it.
"It gave me closure the first few times we talked about it - since we were talking again. You were happy, so I supported you. I was getting over you and we were getting close again. You'd let me touch you. And we didn't..." Yuugi paused, and Yami knew which words were difficult: there were only so many ways to dance around not 'accidentally' sleeping together again.
There seemed unable to find a better way to say it, so Yuugi just kept on. "But then you left him too. And that's scary to me. I don't know what you want anymore, or who you want. Marik had everything that I didn't and he wasn't good enough either. It doesnt make sense to me. But you don't talk to me about that - so I don't know what to think anymore. " Yuugi sighed, then, shoulders slumping.
It was too much to think about all at once, but Yami still tried to organize it in his head; pick through the things he'd heard before and separate them from things that were new. He knew, from experience, that Yuugi understanding the reason why he felt so trapped was nigh impossible. For all intents and purposes, Yuugi and - their - friends' involvement had only been temporary; Yami's had involved his entire life and, since he was still around, perhaps more than one. If it were possible to still reach through their link and share his exact thoughts, how difficult even standing there in the kitchen was for him, he would have.
So he discarded those topics, and that didn't leave him with much. Just questions whose answers wouldn't change anything. All those words, and nothing about what was current.
"And now there's Mokuba - I don't even know how that happened," Yuugi concluded silently.
It left him scrambling for a response. He still wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to be responding to. To the conversation's credit, at least Yuugi had put it out there, had finally told him. There were certainly things that Yami wished he could take back or do over, even if he didn't regret the decisions made themselves. Yami worked hard to make his intentions and reasoning known, but he knew it wasn't always that easy. Being so privy to each others' thoughts and feelings, sometimes it was easier to allow each other privacy. They talked about some things, but only about what appeared on the surface, unless they were ready.
Silence settled between them again, and Yami realized that, as delayed as this was, Yuugi still wasn't ready to talk about this. Every second of struggle to articulate years-old sentiments made that clear. But if they didn't get over everything that had happened then, they definitely wouldn't be able to address what was happening between them at the moment.
Yami decided that he needed to say something. As things stood, Yuugi was fragile, and he couldn't allow those declarations to just hang in the air like that, without response or apology. They still had issues to address but this was much more complicated than he'd thought at first. And if he could help make closure between them a bit more substantial, there was no question about what had to be done.
Frowning, he said, "Marik wasn't better than you. I thought you should know that." It seemed like a good place to start. Positive, encouraging, perhaps adding a bit of closure.
Yuugi nodded, but hugged himself rather than reply.
"I'm sorry that it's too late for account for your feelings," Yami added. "If I had known - things would have been different. Everything I did afterward was pretty reckless. I can't lie about that." Except Marik. By comparison, that was in fact the best decision he'd made so far. Not hat Yuugi would ever know.
"Yup." The response was despondent. Though Yuugi stood still, renewed and rigid posture gave away the effort it took to do just that.
It would always be difficult for them both, he decided. There was no such thing as reprieve from each other.
He wasn't interested in hashing out the same debate from years ago. Yuugi would never agree that the two of them had been forced together, so Yami didn't really want to touch that at all. They'd just end up having the same fight that they'd been having off and on since they'd broken up. And Yuugi wasn't ready to talk about anything else, so...
Suddenly Yuugi took steps away from the kitchen, retreating. Yami shook his head. He wasn't through yet! Maybe it was clear that this wouldn't be the conversation that settled things between them once and for all, but that was no reason to leave it incomplete. One way or another, tripping and dragging, there was a little more on the table between than there had been before, and it was his responsibility to address it.
"Wait, Yuugi," he said hastily. It made no sense for them to end on the exact same note they'd started on. If Yuugi needed to discuss the past, then they would. "I'm sorry that I hurt you. I was just trying to to take your feelings into consideration. I didn't want you to feel like..." He faded out and didn't replace the quiet that had rushed in.
There was no way to explain how he felt without breaching into that territory. Yami wanted to believe that they could finish this without having to go into those details.
Unfortunately, Yuugi had already been able to tell where he had been about to go. That small body whipped around to face him and suddenly seethed. "I wasn't obligated to love you," Yuugi spat, "but I did. And I can't make you believe that, so why bother trying? I've tried for the last four or five years; it hasn't gotten me anywhere." Violet eyes watered, threatening tears.
In that small place where their feelings could nearly touch one another, Yami was sure that he could feel both their emotions swelling; his own bubbling up from a simmer and Yuugi's just beginning to boil over.
Not good, he thought, both to make mental note and confirm that their feelings were still separate. Sometimes they bled together, and he couldn't pick his thoughts apart.
"Yuugi," he said slowly, trying to keep his emotions in check, "do you think you would have fallen for me had the puzzle been given to someone else? If we'd even met?" That was the simplest way to put it. It was a yes or no question; short answer. And they both already knew what it was.
The look in Yuugi's eyes, familiar in their anger, made it clear that Yami had failed. "You just don't get it." Yuugi threw his hands into the air in frustration. There was no getting around it - . "That's not important, and a stupid question! That's like asking if Marik would have been attracted to you if he wasn't Egyptian, or if I would have gone to college if I went to a different high school and hadn't met Jou or Anzu - none of that is the point! It doesn't make any fucking difference, Yami!"
Yuugi sniffed again, pulled a lip between his teeth and let the first few tears fall before speaking. "Those things don't mean anything, because things happened the way they did and they are the way they fucking are and--"
"Yuugi!"
Things could get worse, apparently. That shout, though muffled by distance, was Sugoroku. Apparently they could be heard halfway across the house. "It's too early in the morning for all that shouting!"
Yuugi cringed, wiping his eyes. They were officially in dangerous territory, emotionally. "Things happened this way," it was uttered as a hiss, "because they did. I don't undestand how you could just say I'm conditional, or that I don't mean what I say."
It was too intense for him to resist; Yami practically felt the despair wash over him, felt his body take in the same tension that Yuugi had been resisting. That was such an awful feeling, to be devoted complete and lack certainty in reciprocation. They were supposed to be friends who loved and cared about each other no matter what. Yuugi was his partner, and he was failing miseably at being a good companion.
Yami took a long, steadying breath, tried to sort his feelings from the ones that were pressuring him. Yes, he did want to make up with Yuugi - no, he didn't want to make up with Yuugi. He was supposed to be standing his ground while offering comfort from a distance. Trying to do it from closer was the reason why they weren't getting along in the first place. Suddenly, he was aware that he was failing at everything: his attempts to talk, to patch things, to communicate effectively - no, wait, that was Yuugi - at getting to the bottom of things.
That distinction was sobering enough to help him keep it together. "It's not that it doesn't mean anything," Yami attempted to explain. He moved a little closer, the connection between them still pulsing. His eyes watered as he drew in another breath and he wiped them dry. "I haven't abandoned you. I know that you mean what you're saying to me."
The only warning for what was about to be said was that the mingling emotions between them grew in intensity. "If I only love you because the Items made it this way, doesn't that mean my feelings aren't real?" Yuugi cried outright, didn't hide himself; simply sniffed in between statements. "You've gotten everything you've want when you wanted it. Everything. And you took the one thing away from me that I needed from you. Then I try to be happy with someone else and you get upset because I'm guarding my feelings?"
Yuugi being unhappy was suddenly unbareable. Knowing it caused a swelling in his chest that made every breath tight and uncomfortable. He couldn't tell whether or not that feeling originated with him, but it didn't matter at this point. "No, no, that's not it..." Yami pleaded, and he since he was aware of the rush of emotion, he tried to ease into it this time instead of being overwhelmed by it.
The chance for explanation was gone, now. Yuugi thought that it was fine to simply close himself off, to call his deception being guarded, and he couldn't interpret it that way. What was happening now would never be disconnected from the way things had been between them. You have to accept this, he told himself. The two of them weren't over each other at all - and maybe they would never be.
Limbs cried out for Yami to move and he couldn't help himself. His arms were around Yuugi, steps closing the distance between them, before he had the chance to think about it if was the right thing to do. It had to have been. He couldn't just let Yuugi stand there, crying, and not do anything about it.
"Don't touch me." The voice was soft, the sob instead louder in his ear. But there was no push, no fight or struggle; Yuugi just cried.
So he pushed through. That was the least he could do in a situation this complex. Yuugi shifted and arms lifted almost as though to wrap around Yami, but they stopped short and gripped his shirt instead. In the end, Yuugi just clutched Yami's shirt and sobbed.
It was a little too late not to be moved. Furious pounding in his heart and in his head made that clear. Yami made sure that there was no repeat of the last time. Yuugi's emotions flooded him, and there was so much hurt there, so much uncertainty. The pain was almost physical; muscles strained to not collapse upon themselves and he could barely keep from shaking as he drew breath. Tears rolled silently down his cheeks, but he didn't sob and didn't make noise outside of the occasional sniff.
Though they were both pulled under the force of sentiment there was no doubt that all of this was for Yuugi. There wasn't much else Yami could do but offer support. In fact, he hated having to deal with their issues only when they boiled over the top; there was little growth to be found in it. Yami had to wokr with what he had been given, though, as It was impossible to handle these sorts of hardships on his own.
A part of him felt trapped, constantly ensnared by emotions with no defense against them.
Loving Yuugi wasn't something that he could just stop doing. He could already feel it, that soothing warmth between them. When they felt similarly, it was intoxicating. What was more comforting than contact with another person who understood the swirling, tumultuous cloud of thoughts and considerations inside? It would have been nothing for Yami to lean over and kiss him; it would have been like breathing.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into Yuugi's ear, instead. Hearing himself speak helped keep his grip on reality, on the fact that they were separate now even if their feelings weren't always. And he was genuinely sorry, not just for their misunderstanding but everything leading to it. There were many things that Yami would still have decided to do, even knowing the outcome, but this was not one of them.
Yuugi nodded, and he held on tightly until those tears became sniffles again. "I'm gonna be late for class," But a few seconds still passed before there was movement.
Yami felt strained as he untangled himself from Yuugi. He grimaced and forced his arms to his sides. They were tightened coils, ready to spring toward Yuugi again at a moment's notice. He hated it; it shouldn't have been that hard to simply let go of another person. Or so easy to reach for their touch again.
Yuugi took a tentiative step backward, wiping his eyes again. He said, "Thanks ...for listening and everything."
And for not making this more than you could handle, Yami finished in his thoughts. It was his turn to nod, because there was no truly appropriate response. How would Yuugi react to him if Yami was to tell him that, at that very moment, he would have very gladly done much more damage than a simple kiss? It was better to keep that to himself.
"Yami, I..." Yuugi reached for his hand, but after a moment seemed to think better of it and pulled it back. "I don't think I'll ever stop caring about you. I just wanted you to understand how hard it is to be 'normal' with you. So I get thrown off when stuff like this happens."
Yami frowned. He supposed that, even if they didn't agree, he could at least let Yuugi know that he wasn't ill-intentioned either.
"Understanding isn't the hard part, Yuugi. You aren't the only one suffering. The feelings I have for you - they didn't go away. They didn't disappear." He ran both hands through his hair to keep them occupied. "They're still here. I'm still attracted to you - I still miss you from time to time. Did you even bother to wonder why that kiss happened in the first place? It's hard being connected to you and having feelings for you all at the same time. I wasn't using you, Yuugi. I just lost control. It was a mistake and I made things worse. I am not as good as you, apparently, at keeping our link at bay." It was hard to resist mentioning the last bit, since that it was supposed the topic of conversation.
Yuugi didn't seem to have a reply for him, and Yami didn't trust himself to say much more. A few minutes of silence passed between them, and they just stared at each other. Yami wondered if Yuugi could feel the jumble of emotions inside of him, or the desire hidden underneath. It was hard not to be relieved when Yuugi, without warning, turned away from him to retreat. There was nothing relevant that Yami could say to stop him, nothing that could be said to ease the tension.
With Yuugi getting ready for class, Yami was left to stand by himself in the kitchen. It felt awkward to move anywhere else, too much like he was dismissing the heavy topics just discussed. Nothing had been resolved, but the two of them would just have to disagree and learn to deal with it.
No matter how he looked at it, they were still pretty screwed. There were clearly powerful emotions tied between them even years later. But they were broken up, regardless of those feelings, and each with someone else. That added another dimension to things - would they ever get over their pasts? For all Yami knew, Rebecca could have been to Yuugi what he had once sought: distraction, definition. They couldn't very well fall back into each other if they were committed to others, after all. It was easier to keep from focusing on the problems they'd ignored if they were obligated to have their attention elsewhere.
That was a sad thought. They both held their partners like double-edged swords.just made those issues more difficult to deal with. He didn't want it to be true, at least not about himself. For all of his complaining, he didn't dislike Mokuba or the way things had developed with him. And he definitely didn't want to back to the way that things were before. The signs of denial were still there, though. Yami didn't feel comfortable discussing how drawn he was to Yuugi, with anyone. It had been hard opening up about what little he'd told Mokuba already.
He couldn't be the only one who felt trapped by the bond the Puzzle had forged between them. The aching, the urge to hold on and not let go... Yuugi had to have felt it as well. It was the problem, the elephant in the room, and Yami didn't envy the moment that he knew would come: when they would have no choice but to address it directly.