Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Control ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Warnings: Some non-con; violence; language.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh is the intellectual property of Kazuki Takahashi. I do not own it.
Summary: The mind is a fragile thing, and so easily manipulated. What happens when ones mind is manipulated, while someone else’s reality becomes a nightmare? Seto/Yami; Bakura/Yugi.

This is slightly AU. It is set after Battle City although there will be no mention of it here. Control

Nightmare; 1) A frightening or unpleasant dream; 2) A very unpleasant experience or prospect.

The night sky shone brightly, the full moon surrounded by stars. There was a breeze that blew across everything, stray pieces of papers being lifted up only to be dropped again as the wind moved on. There was a distant rumble and the sound of a high pitched whistle being blown. The clouds moved to cover the moon as the night wore on. People moving to and fro, a single lone figure always motionless despite the bustle around him. A single grey holdall lay on the ground as the figure leaned against the back wall, eyes closed and tears streaming down his face. A bruise forming on his left cheek, the salt stinging it as the tears slid over the tender area.

His sun kissed skin shone in the pale moonlight, the tear tracks showing more so. Every now and again his Adam’s apple would rise and fall as he swallowed; his breathing shallow as his lungs inhaled air. His knuckles had returned to their normal colour a while ago, his anger dissipatating into nothingness as the memory replayed behind his closed eyelids. Once again the station master walked along the platform calling on all passengers to board the train and once more the station master glanced at the lone figure on the bench, his eyes curious as to why the young man had sat there since early evening and had not boarded the train. His eyes did not miss the tear tracks or the fresh bruise.

Fresh tears once more rolled down the soft flesh and over the bruise. Shoulders now shuddered with them, chest rising more rapidly. He cursed himself as he sat there and cried. He hated crying, it was for the weak, and even then he still couldn’t stop himself. The tears flowed freely, tears that he thought had dried up hours ago. He didn’t bother to try and wipe them away anymore. The wind blew through his hair, flowing over his face and sending a shiver down his spine. He let out a slow shaky breath and licked his dry chapped lips. He swallowed, his throat coarse, he sniffed and set his jaw, holding back another onslaught of tears that threatened to overcome him.

He heard the door close and glanced at the clock that sat upon the kitchen wall. It was just after 5pm. He smiled and looked at the table once more before wiping his hands on the apron, taking it off and walking out of the kitchen to go meet his love. As he walked towards the hall, his love met him half way. Wrapping his arms around his waist he lifted his chin and planted a kiss on his lips. Slowly the kiss began to deepen and when the need for air arose they reluctantly pulled away from each other.

Soft words and greetings were spoken and exchanged. The two walked towards the kitchen, content in the light silence that surrounded them. As they neared the kitchen, the aromatic smell of wined chicken wafted to them, a tender, rare smile graced the other’s lips as he kissed his love on the cheek before walking into the kitchen, towards the dining room and holding out a chair for his lover to sit on. When he was sure his love was sitting comfortably, he went over and retrieved a bottle of wine from the rack. He poured the two of them a glass and sat down himself and looked over his love.

Graceful and beautiful features that were fit for an angel looked back at him. A silken white shirt with the top button undone contrasted with his tanned skin. His cheeks were tinted a slight rose colour and his eyes shone with love and devotion. His hair was slowly starting to take form again, still slightly damp from the shower he had undoubtedly had before finishing dinner. The black and crimson hung loosely at his shoulders, the blonde bangs jutting out from the sides, lining his perfect face. Crimson eyes shifted from his wine glass to his love that was staring at him.

“Seto…are you not going to eat?”

A small flash of a smile and it was gone again, azure eyes left Yami’s face and fell upon the food that had been prepared for him, chicken with a succulent tarragon sauce, a small amount of pasta beside that and a salad accompanying it. A small piece of freshly cut cress set on top of the chicken. The two candles that burned in the middle of the table, the white china the food was placed on and the silver polished cutlery along with the crystal wine glasses they drank from, all of it glistened in the low lighting of the dining room. There was a neatly folded piece of white material that sat beside his plate, delicately manipulated to represent a flower, a single rose made from an intricate white napkin. Seto eyes fell onto his love again, his soft hands gripping the knife and fork, the graceful movements as he lifted the fork to his mouth. The soft pink lips that closed over the fork and watched as he slowly chewed on his food. Seto watched his throat as he swallowed and then as he gently dabbed his mouth with the napkin before reaching a hand out to brush against his own. Seto’s eyes glanced at the hand before locking with Yami’s eyes. Confusion and worry alight in them.

“Seto love, is everything okay?”

“Hai. It is.”

Yami smiled and continued eating his dinner. Slowly Seto picked up his own food and began eating. They each talked idly, time passing by as they finished of the meal as well as the bottle of wine. Once they finished Yami began to clear away the dishes while Seto drank the last of the wine. He moved up behind Yami and wrapped his arms around his waist while nuzzling into his neck…there was a faint smell of cinnamon and wild berry. Yami continued to wash the dishes, ignoring the wandering hands of Seto’s that were running dangerously low. He inhaled a breath and bit his lip.

“Seto love…”

“Leave the dishes.”

“They’re almost done…just,” Yami moved to go to the table to get the glasses when two firm hands gripped his hips.

“They can wait…” Seto nibbled on his earlobe, running his hands along Yami’s inner thigh. Yami bit back a moan, and mumbled something. Seto smirked and pulled away, taking a hold of his hand and led him out of the kitchen and up the wide arched stairs. Yami glanced curiously at Seto’s back. They had barely entered their bedroom when Seto pushed Yami against the door rather roughly, placing his knee between his legs and his hands running down the front of his shirt unbuttoning it.

“Seto?”

“Shh.”

Be fore Yami could say anything else, Seto pulled the shirt off him throwing it on the floor before his hands moved to his belt. Seto crushed their lips together and undid the belt, throwing it to the floor as well. Yami tried to pull away and Seto grabbed his wrist and pinned it above his head to the door, gripping it tightly. Yami brought his free hand up to Seto’s chest and with one push shoved him away. Seto stood there, breathing rapidly and lust filled eyes focused solely on Yami.

“Seto…” Yami whispered. There was something wrong with this scene. Seto wasn’t usually forceful unless Yami wished it. There was something different; there was something else that burned in Seto’s eyes. They weren’t as soft as they normally would be when they were about to make love, his eyes still held that cold gaze…a dull fire burning in the background, but his face was still his cold and an unemotional mask. Yami moved to the side to pick up his shirt, drawing his eyes away for a second to see where it had been thrown.

In that split second, he had found himself on his back on the floor, Seto straddling him and shedding his own shirt. Yami tried to sit up when Seto pushed him none to softly back to the floor.

“Seto…what the hell?”

“Yami koi…shhh.”

“I will not. What the fuck is going on? Get the hell off me!”

Seto paused and looked at Yami with confusion in his eyes. He shed his shirt and leaned down and whispered in Yami’s ear.

“What does it look like?”

“I’ll tell you what it is!”

Yami squirmed in an attempt to get Seto off him. Off all the times they had ever made love, whether it was rough or not, this was the first time that Yami truly felt scared. Seto’s eyes were blank; almost as if he was in a trance. And Yami was terrified. His heart was beating wildly and Seto’s weight on top of him made his squirming practically useless. He brought his hands in front of him in an attempt to push Seto off him. Seto simply grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head. He ground his hips against Yami, letting him feel his arousal. Yami let out a small moan and then bit his lip to stop it. Seto moved his free hand and started to unzip Yami’s trousers. When Yami began trying to get him off again, he ground into him once more, satisfied at the little moan that Yami let slip once more.

“Seto…stop messing around and get off me.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.”

“God damn it Seto. You’re hurting me. Stop fucking around!”

“The only fucking around that will be happening, will be you and me koi.” Seto let his hand slide in under the material of his trousers, smiling at the feel of soft and tender flesh in his hand.

“The hell we will. Get off me now!”

Yami glared at Seto, fear filled him and it showed in his eyes, for Seto paused and slowly started to get off him. Yami watched him cautiously.

‘What the hell...’ Yami thought.

Seto slowly stood up and Yami sat and pushed himself away. He glared at Seto and tried to calm his heart and slow down his breathing. When he was sure Seto wasn’t going to try to pin him down again he slowly stood, his eyes never leaving the other, he zipped his trousers back up and stood still. Seto took a step forward and Yami took one back. His eyes narrowed and his heart began to race again.

“Yami…”

“What the hell was that about?”

“…”

“DAMN IT ANSWER ME!”

“Yami…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry, Seto, what the fuck were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t.”

“Damn right you weren’t. What made you do that?”

“I just…wanted you.”

“Wanted me? Damn it you have me. But that…Seto that was something else entirely. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I just…I don’t know.” Seto sighed and hung his head. Yami slowly bent down and picked up his shirt and slowly made his way to the door.

“Where…”

Yami paused mid-step, heart beating a mile a minute once more, his face was a picture of controlled fear. Seto stopped himself from moving forward.

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Why?”

Yami snorted. “You’re joking right. Seto you just tried to force yourself onto me. And no matter how much I love you, I’ll be damned if I’m going to be staying in this house tonight.”

“Where will you go?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Yami…” Seto stepped forward and Yami quickly turned and grabbed a hold of the handle and made to pull the door open, his eyes widened as he found the door locked and he turned to stare at Seto before he backed away from the door making sure to keep his distance.

“Open the door Seto.”

“Yami please…”

“Please what? Open the damn door now Seto.”

Seto shook his head and took the key out of his pocket and opened the door. He looked over at Yami…taking in his defensive stance and his pale face, his eyes radiated fear and caution. Seto felt guilt eat away at him. He honestly didn’t know what had overcome him, one minute he was eating dinner and the next he was looking down at Yami’s eyes. He couldn’t remember leaving the dining room…but he had the memory. But when he played it over…it was him looking in on himself on top of Yami…it was almost as if he didn’t have any control of himself. But he couldn’t understand how that could happen.

Seto opened the door and stood away from it, Yami eyeing him cautiously as he moved towards it; as he crossed over the threshold and into the hall…he slowly walked, never turning his back and careful not to bump into anything. Seto looked on as he watched his love back away from him, hurt and confusion running through his veins. Seto watched as Yami reached the top of the stairs and he walked down them. It was only then that Yami turned his back, his neck turning every few seconds to see if Seto was behind him. Seto balled his hands into fists and narrowed his eyes slightly.

Yami paused on his way down the stairs upon seeing Seto’s fists ball up. He couldn’t help but feel a small amount of worry for his love. Seto had never acted that way to Yami before but he was speaking the truth when he told him he wouldn’t be spending the night in the same house as him. He was intent on that; he would take the car and drive to Yugi’s. But at the same time, he felt as if he had to stay here with Seto and, as illogical as it was, figure out why Seto had done what he did. The more logical side of him won, he would leave for tonight, and let tonight calm down first. He reached the bottom of the stairs and went to get his jacket and keys in the bowl that was just off to the side of the door.

Seto stood at the top of the stairs watching as Yami moved towards the coat rack. Once more his thoughts could only centre on how lithe Yami’s body was, how graceful he was when he walked, and how beautiful he was when his eyes were filled with any kind of emotion. And once more Seto felt the sensation of floating…he once more felt as if he was, -dare he say it- pushed out of his mind. He immediately dismissed that thought; it was ludicrous that he could even think that. But that was still the feeling. It was as if he was sleeping, that he was watching from outside of himself, and it was the oddest of feelings, his whole body tingled, as if there were millions of needles simultaneously pinpricking his skin. He felt a cloud settle over his eyes and at that moment, a sudden searing burst of indescribable passion filled urges overrode his senses. At that moment, the only thoughts that seemed to be getting through to him were the ones that told him Yami was leaving; not allowing him to have what was rightfully his and not being the lover he should be. Yami was playing a game and he would claim his prize.

In the time that had elapsed from Yami putting on his jacket and getting his keys, time seemed to have almost slowed down. Yami turned around and instead of moving forward, he was shoved backwards, the base of his spine connecting with the table behind him, the glass bowl atop it shattering on the floor. His wrists were grabbed immediately, the grip tight and pinching at the skin. Yami’s eyes widened and he looked up into Seto’s face questioningly, but before he could lock eyes with Seto he found himself being thrown onto the ground, his right shoulder colliding with the hard floor. He quickly pushed himself up only to be thrown down again.

Seto grabbed Yami by his shoulders and roughly turned him onto his back. He quickly leaned in and began nibbling on the curvature between his neck and collarbone, ignoring the clawing and struggling and pleadings coming from Yami. His hands moved over the bare torso, and he bit down on Yami’s collarbone causing the other to yell out and dig his nails further into Seto’s arms.

“Seto…please…don’t.” Yami muttered between his struggles.

Seto simply ignored him and sat up and admired the mark by his neck. He leaned down once more and began to suck on his nipples and gripping Yami’s hips to keep him from struggling. Yami searched around for something…anything, tears streaming down his face, his breathing laboured. He saw the shards of the bowl and tried to reach over to them, his hand couldn’t reach them and he swallowed a sob. He looked down to find Seto moving his head lower and he clenched his eyes shut and grabbed Seto’s hair and yanked on the brown locks as hard as he could.

Seto yelped and loosened his grip momentarily on Yami’s hips and that was all Yami needed, he quickly turned onto his front and half crawled, half pulled himself across the floor to the shards that lay mere yards ahead of him. As he neared them he threw his arm out and grasped the first piece his fingers came in contact with. He could feel Seto’s footsteps behind him and could see his shadow as he leaned down. Yami bit his lips and made a silent apology before he whipped round, shard in hand and swiped it in front of him. He heard Seto curse.

The shard had caught Seto on his right cheek, and his automatic response was to bring his right hand up to the injured area and touch it. Seto could feel a fluid oozing and then looked at his hand, blood. He looked from his hand to Yami and back to his hand again. Yami never saw Seto’s left hand raising but he felt the full force of the thump on his left cheek, hard enough to knock him over onto his back from leaning on his elbows and into the area of the floor that was covered in glistening pieces of glass. Yami held back the moan of pain but couldn’t stop the wince.

“You Ra damned son of a bitch. Damn it will be fun!”

“Seto…stop it! Get the hell away…”

Yami’s reply was once more cut of as he received another slap to his left cheek…once more he stumbled, but he regained his balance.

From outside the house, the perfectly mowed lawns glistened as evening closed in. Dew drops beginning to form on the single blades of grass. The trees that lined the manor perfectly still, the clouds yielding to let the moon and stars have full reign of the sky. A soft wind whipping at the tree tops, the robins sitting idly in the tree branches.

A single black crow flew over the roof of the manor, only to rest atop the chimney.

The painful shouts and pleadings never penetrated the walls or windows of the house. Nor did the yells or the sounds of flesh on flesh. The moon simply shone down on the lawn and the stars twinkled, and the crow stayed atop the chimney. Silence reigned supreme in the outside grounds. The only sound that finally penetrated the still moment was the sound of the front door opening and closing and the sound of feet against pebbled stones, sobs echoing.

Yami ran across the pebbled driveway towards the garage, white shirt torn and lip bleeding as well as a few cuts on his back. His body racked with sobs and he wildly looked for the car that he had grabbed the keys for. When he found it…he got in and started the engine driving off and spinning the tires. His mind was reeling…Seto…he had tried to…more tears fell.

Inside the brick walled house, in the hall by the table where the broken shards lay, was the limp form of Seto Kaiba. Clothes rumpled and small finger bruises on his arm, a cut on his cheek that was slowly beginning to clot. His breathing even and eye lids closed. He lay unconscious for the moment and as he lay there, small swirls of a fading shadow left his form, a faint outline of a figure stood above him, lavender eyes and blonde hair being the only defining colours and attributes.

Yami gripped the steering wheel, hands automatically turning the wheels of the car in the direction he wanted to go. Within minutes he found himself parked outside Yugi’s apartment.

Yami leaned forward, his shoulder still a bit sore, he glanced at his train ticket and sighed once more. He had been sitting there for God only knows how long and he had yet to board the multiple trains that were going to the destination that was printed on the ticket. Yugi had come down to the car and had managed to keep him calm enough to walk him to his apartment. Yami hadn’t even noticed that Bakura was there until he had stated that he was going to harm Seto in ‘various’ ways. But when Yami had insisted that he leave Seto alone, Bakura had fallen silent and didn’t press for any explanations when Yugi threw him a look that simply said –don’t ask, please- at which Bakura left the two in peace. It wasn’t until later when Yami lay down on the sofa did he hear Bakura speak again.

“Kura?”

“Hai Yugi…”

“Yami he…and Seto…I can’t…”

“I know.” Bakura wrapped his arms around Yugi and kissed the top of his head.

“Kura…”

“I wouldn’t ever…I would cut them off first before I ever let the thought cross my mind. I swear that to you now.”

“I know Kura. Ummm…”

Bakura answered him again, and let his eyes fall onto the sofa where Yami was currently lying. He couldn’t believe it. He had only heard what Yami had said, broken as it was, but he could gather enough. The torn shirt along with the few cuts and bruises he had; as well as the fact that Yami was sobbing uncontrollably at the moment was enough to know that something major had happened at the Kaiba residence.

“He’s not staying there, could you umm…I don’t wanna go over there.”

“Of course I will. And no I won’t harm the bastard.” Bakura added when he heard Yugi breath in and felt him about to speak, knowing exactly what his little love was going to say.

The rest of the evening had passed in a blur for Yami; he could remember hearing Bakura leave the house amidst pleas from Yugi to be careful and to not provoke Kaiba. Yugi himself had paced the length of not only the living room, but of the hall and kitchen, and Yami was sure his footprints were embedded into the fibre of the carpet. At some point in the night Yami remembered waking up in a bed, whose it was he wasn’t sure, but the sweat was rolling down him and he was shaking, the image of Seto savagely ripping his trousers off him staying in his mind. It was Yugi who came to him slowly and cautiously and comforted him, much like the way Yami had comforted Yugi in the days after his Jii-chan had died.

He could remember Yugi insisting he go to the hospital to at least get the cuts on his back looked at, his muscles would tense every time the nurse came into contact with a particularly tender and bruised area of his skin. He could remember the questions the nurse asked him and whether or not a police report should be filled. When he had been asked that he refused to say anything, the look from Yugi alone made him almost regret the decision to not file charges. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure himself as to why he wasn’t filing a report, but there was a feeling deep down within his heart – a nagging sensation that told him something was wrong, -very, very wrong- but he ignored it for the moment.

The station master once more made his rounds along the wooden platform, calling out for passengers to board the last and final train. The station master glanced over at Yami and made his way towards him. Upon seeing the shadow fall over him Yami looked up, eyes tired and form weary.

“This is the last train tonight. If this is your train, you may wish to board this one Sir.”

With that the young man tipped his hat in Yami’s direction and walked off towards the other end of the platform calling out for all passengers to board. People of all sizes, shapes and ages climbed up the metal steps of the train, their conversations continuing once they were seated. Children moved up and down the aisles while their parents tried to settle them down. Finally the wheels began to slowly move; the engine sprang to life and pushed the weight of the metal and loaded carrier forward. A ‘toot-toot’ was heard as the train ran along the tracks, the wheels turned more often as the speed picked up and soon enough, the train was out of sight, only the trail of smoke visible from the platform where the station master stood.

The hunched form of a lone figure walked dejectedly off the platform and towards the steps that led down towards the car park beside the train station. His grey hold all bag was thrown over one shoulder as his head was bowed down towards the ground. He passed the large iron bar gate that was closed after him and a long thick chain wrapped around the bars while an old padlock was placed through the hoops, the older gentleman smiling at him in a warm and welcoming way. His eyes were old and his greying skin full of wrinkles and there was a limp in his left leg as he turned and slowly hobbled down towards the opposite end of the bottom platform where he closed the second gate, another chain and padlock placed there.

Yami continued forward towards the car park. Once he reached there, he let his eyes scan the area and once he found what he was looking for, he strode over and stepped inside the booth. He fished his wallet out of his trousers and picked up the receiver and dialled the number and waited for someone on the other end to pick up. The ringing on the other end continued and finally he was answered by the answering machine. He sighed and hung up. Unsure as to why he hadn’t left a message. He wasn’t even sure as to why he didn’t board the train, he just didn’t. Something about it didn’t feel right and he had sat there for hours, ticket in hand as he watched every train pass him by.

Once more his mind refused to leave him alone, images and words continually bombarded his senses, making it impossible for any new or coherent thought to register with him. Bakura had gone to Seto’s and packed up some of his belongings, and when Bakura arrived back, told him Seto looked as if he hadn’t slept and was frantic with worry as to his where-a-bouts. Yami felt as if he needed to get away…just out of town and away from where Seto could walk up to him at any moment, hence why he had a train ticket out of town and to the country. Bakura had said that Ryou’s father had a cabin and that he was welcome to use it. But now he was standing outside the station, having not gotten on any of the trains and the ticket still in his hand.

He couldn’t understand it…any of it. What had changed to the point where Seto felt the need to do what he had done? Yami played everything over in his mind, everything over the last few weeks, hoping that there would be something there that would tell him…something that he might have overlooked that would have told him something was amiss. But every time he did, he came up empty. There was absolutely nothing that could explain this sudden shift in Seto’s mood. Yami sat down on the curb and ran his hands through his hair. The whole situation had thrown him off balance. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do, was he supposed to run away and not look back, or stay and face the problem? He snorted at that, he didn’t know what the problem was. All he knew was that Seto had tried to…

He stopped himself. He didn’t want to go back down that road; he hadn’t slept the night before. Every time he tried he had been rewarded with a barrage of memories, ones that left him trembling and disorientated when he awoke. He hated Seto at the moment, hated him for what he had done; hated him for making him feel this way, and most of all hated him for throwing his whole world out of loop. And for what? Yami was still no closer to knowing why. A small sob escaped him and he clenched his fists and dug them into the sides of his head. In his head he continued the small mantra that he wasn’t going to cry anymore, that he was stronger than that. Soon after his lips began to move and voice slowly the faint mantra to himself, while keeping his head down and his fingers tugged at his hair.

At some point Yami noticed the looming shadow that towered over him. He slowly raised his head only to hold his breath at the putrid smell that wafted off the older man that stood next to him. The older man had a long brown coat that was tattered and had large stains all over it. He wore a pair of black trousers that didn’t button up the full way and showed his pale and bony ankles. He wore a pair of sandals upon his feet, toenails yellow and overgrown. He wore a red sweater that was surprisingly well kept and the cleanest part of his attire. His eyes were a vivid green and his face was oily and pot marked. Thin strands of black-turned-grey hair hung loosely around his face as he hunched over, one hand turned in a half formed fist. When he spoke, the smell of cigars and cheap alcohol assaulted Yami’s senses, two rows of white teeth standing out in stark contrast to the rest of him.

“Got a light kid?” His voice was rusty, as if he had just woken up. Yami shook his head in the negative. “Damn. What does a guy have to do to get a friggin’ light?” Yami raised his eyebrows. The man, despite his appearance was well spoken, one hand dug deep in his coat pocket to pull out a cigarette. The man glanced around the car park and as if deciding that he wasn’t going to get a light soon, he sat himself on the curb next to Yami and held the cigarette between his fingers. His eyes roamed down Yami, and a satisfied grin slipped onto his features giving him an almost haunted look.

“Missed your train?”

“What?”

The man indicated the hold all by Yami’s feet and then repeated the question.

“Something like that.”

“So kid, got a light?”

“No.”

“Name’s Walter.” And ‘Walter’ held out his hand for Yami to shake. Yami glanced down at it and shook his hand; quickly pulling his hand back the minute Walter’s tight grip released him.

“Get yourself in a scuff?”

“Yeah.”

“You waiting for your ride to come pick you up?”

“…” Yami suddenly didn’t have an answer. He wasn’t waiting for anyone to come pick him up. The only ones who knew where he was would think he had gotten on the train, and as far as Seto was concerned…

“Had a fight with the folks then?”

“Huh?”

Walter nodded his head, clearly meaning Yami’s face, Yami simply stared at him. He felt that this man, whoever he was, was actually rather nosy considering that they didn’t know each other from adam down. As far as Yami knew, he was some guy that had asked for a light, and despite telling him no, the man continued to ask questions. And he thought Yami had a fight with his ‘folks.’ He scoffed inwardly, if only he knew.

“The Mrs will kill me when I get home.” Walter’s right hand moved to his left to turn the gold band that was on his fourth finger. Yami watched the expression on his face, he looked sorry for something and Yami was rather curious to know why, although he refused to voice this.

“Stupid poker game was rigged. Table full of damn cheats! Lost the car as well as today’s paycheque and my clothes. One of them was kind enough to give me these clothes, and then I went and got sloshed with some guy at the bar. Said he knew what it was like to lose it all. Wouldn’t go any further. Young guy, doubt he could have lost much at his age. Big long trench coat, face buried in the bar and he kept downing scotch whiskeys. Mind you, he could still walk fine when he went to the men’s room.”

Yami’s head had whipped round at the mention of the trench coat, his heart already racing. His eyes scanned the area in front of him, he felt a hand on his arm and he jerked away and stumbled over his hold all onto the ground. He looked up and immediately pushed himself backwards along the ground. In front of him, vivid azure eyes bored into his and the person that owned them kept moving closer to him.

“No…please…” Yami whispered.

Walter paused and looked down at Yami, he had seen his head whip round when he mentioned the man he was drinking with, and stood up. He had touched his arm to ask if he was okay when Yami had scooted back from him, eyes wide and the colour drained from his face.

“H-hey kid…its okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” Walter looked around to see if there was anyone near, slightly perturbed by the sudden change in the other’s behaviour. He spotted someone at the entrance to the car park just across from them, long white trench flowing behind the figure that strode towards Yami and Walter. As he drew closer, Walter's eyes widened in recognition.

“You’re the kid at the bar!” He claimed, pointing at the ‘kid’ that was now mere feet in front of him. The kid stopped in his strides, folded his arms and let his eyes merely glance past Walter to Yami, who was still on the ground propped up on his elbows, now staring wide eyed at the second person in front of him.

“S-Seto…”