Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Puzzles ❯ The Reliable Guardian ( Chapter 4 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: falsechaos 
He's a golden stranger. But is he an honorable cannibal?
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Mystery / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.14.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 221 | Status: Completed
He's a golden stranger. But is he an honorable cannibal?
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Mystery / Angst | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 06.14.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 1.7K | Visits: 221 | Status: Completed
"The Reliable Guardian"
[Magic / Quickplay] Increase 1 monster's DEF by 700 points during the turn this card is activated.
=====
Cold, cold once again. My captors seem unable to understand the concept of basic warmth. I huddle in upon myself in a corner of the room. They use far too much white, a color I have come to associate with the spoiled sterility of a bone turned clean by the shedding of rotting flesh. There are couches I could sit on, a dirty yellow brought upon by age and smoke and urine.
Not one of the finer establishments I've been in.
It's visiting day. Time and people blur around me, but I can hear faithful loved talking to family members that are lucky to remember their names on a good day. Muffled grunts punctuated by a rush of words that somehow break past the labyrinth within their minds. Animated conversations with the coat rack for those with no guests.
I sit alone. I want them to leave so I can return to the bitter sanctuary of my prison. Dark and tiny and confining, but warm in a familiar sort of hurt. So I'll sit here, huddled in the corner, alone in my mind and in my body.
I'm waiting for someone.
But I don't know if he'll return.
My golden stranger.
Nondescript brown eyes. Dirty blond hair. Rough, calloused hands. But my wandering mind performs alchemy and distills his image into gold. Amber irises revealing his soul like sunlight through a stained glass window. Tears of dawn spun into golden thread. Gentle touch that burned my fears into ashes.
I've had much time to mull over this stranger. Perhaps too much. But he has become a sun in this midnight land of sterile light. He is the one I wait for.
"Yuugi?"
Hm? Ah, Dr. Solomon. "Tell me, Doctor," I say out loud, "why is a wiseman wondering amidst the mad?"
He chuckles. "Good question. I asked myself that everyday while I was sitting couches with the lawyers, CEOs, and businessmen. That's why I work here now." So odd to hear a moment of levity from this stocky man. He is well suited to his chosen task of solving the puzzles of other people's minds. At times, however, he seems too close, treating his charges as though they were kin to be cherished, rather than scattered minds to be brought back to flock.
The doctor's strange violet eyes flash again with the levity that seems so natural in his face but so very strange against his station. "You've got a visiter, Yuugi."
"Hn?"
"Over there." Solomon gestures across the sterile room to a figure standing distant near the doorway. "Technically he isn't allowed in this ward any more, but I thought a guest might do you good. You'll have to go to him."
Clever, clever Solomon. You seek to jolt me from my apathy and shake me from the gray that has settled about my sight. Very well. I nod in his direction and set about in the general way he pointed. Sweat beads my forehead. So hard to breath properly. Damn you, Solomon! You knew! Gray ghosts swim in and out of focus. I weave, trying not to touch them, trying not to feel warm flesh where my eyes insist there are only the ashes of vision.
I can hear them, smell them, touch them. But so very few people can register to my treacherous blood stained eyes. I cannot see them clearly, only a monochrome blur where living breath is exhaled. Solomon. Valentine. The tomb robber. Those few I can see clearly in the true spectrum. And him. I mustn't forget
Wait!
Gold rips across my peripheral vision and I spin around to stare dumbly into a familiar stranger's eyes.
"Hi," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his head. "Just thought I'd come in and see how you're doing, but they wouldn't let me past the front desk. Good thing the doc heard me yelling, huh?"
Bright, bright, so gloriously bright and vibrant. A red shirt with some arcane sports logo. Dark blue denim pants. Scuffed sneakers with a streak of black along each side. So vibrant, every thread and color and the excited flush painting his cheeks. He looks puzzled at my silence.
I manage to shove two syllables past my startled lips. "Hello."
"My name's Joey." He offers his hand. I grasp his fingers and palm, fingertips reveling in the feel of his skin. "So what should I call you?"
"Some insist on calling me Yuugi."
"That what you want to be called? The doc told me about the whole pharaoh bit. Or do you have a name you haven't told anyone else about?" There's a mischievous gleam from the teeth he's exposed by smiling.
"I have no name."
"So what did Yuugi call you?"
A brief panic stabs through me. What did he call me? Was there some secret gift of a name he bestowed upon me that I have failed to remember? I have been called friend, partner, brother, by my fallen charge. But-- No. There was never any need for a name. Not between us.
"There was no need for names between us. We--" Why does this hurt so much! I swallow a sob that regurgitates through my throat anyway. "Yuugi never had to--" I clutch at his red shirt and hide my face against his pale throat. "Yuugi--"
Something inside of me! Some hideous, poisonous cancer! I want to howl and claw it out of my chest, this wretched truth that burns at my vision, red crimson vermilion. Our parents gone and I walking about in Yuugi's skin. Vision so vibrant with color,
Yuugi so vibrant with life and new strength, fade like fade like fade like bleeding colors into the darkness of my night with no name no face of mine own lost into the sparse haiku of my mind spinning tale and meaning from so very few syllables and words
whispered against the curved shell of my ear. soft murmurs, meaning lost, but soft intent so very clear. Gentle words that break through the tremors wracking my small body.
Joey.
"Joey?"
Both of us are kneeling. His arms and my arms twined so densely about the other as to breed some new form of organic origami. I'm still shaking, but his tight embrace forces those shudders back within, thrumming about the core of me until my panic shatters. Joey's words gain form and substance and no longer flutter to the floor like slain butterflies.
"It's alright, I'm sorry, shouldn't have asked, come on, it's alright, I'm here, please, look at me, please, it's alright..."
"Joey?"
He doesn't pull away, but I can feel the desperate tension melt from his frame. He wrests a hand free and brushes the bangs away from my face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here."
"Please give me a name. I don't know who I am."
"Dark. That's what your name is. It's not forever or anything, but that's where you are now. When you find yourself you'll be someone else and not Dark anymore. But that's who you are for now, 'kay?"
"Dark." It should be a slap to my pride to have the very nature of my identity thrown in my face. Dark, shadow, twilight. My name. A single word to hinge my identity upon, to remake myself until I am whole again. Dark. "Thank you, Joey."
He pulls away now, face mere inches from mine. What does he see in my face? Stranger? Madcap? Or does he see me as I see him? A precious salvation borne out of chaos? In my desperation for some sign of life in this prison, I know I have stretched his truth out of all possible proportions. He is as human as I am. But still.
I want to get closer, spill myself into his eyes and into his mind until I'm not alone anymore. Let me wrap my naked soul with his flesh. Joey. Take me inside you. Please. I'm lost in my mind, wandering and exposed to the echoes of this body. Joey. His hands rub up and down my spine. Stroke the flesh to reach the soul? I nestle against him and try to fold myself into the womb of comfort that surrounds him.
Turn my face to his, searching for something. Our mingled breath ushers a lethargic flow of heat across the surface of my skin. I press my mouth to his to drink in those breaths, least they dilute even in the short space between us. Joey drops his jaw in shock and I press deeper. Consume me, Joey, prove yourself the honorable cannibal.
I couldn't save Yuugi.
My only redemption is with Joey.
Please.
Joey.
Consume me.
His hand skitters across my jaw. But he does not pull away. Through some impossible fold and shift of our limbs, Joey presses me closer. His mouth moves against mine and his tongue invades my mouth. So wet and hot and this small body of mine burns with the heat of him. Joey. Help me out of this twilight and shadow. Help me find my true name.
Joey.
[Magic / Quickplay] Increase 1 monster's DEF by 700 points during the turn this card is activated.
=====
Cold, cold once again. My captors seem unable to understand the concept of basic warmth. I huddle in upon myself in a corner of the room. They use far too much white, a color I have come to associate with the spoiled sterility of a bone turned clean by the shedding of rotting flesh. There are couches I could sit on, a dirty yellow brought upon by age and smoke and urine.
Not one of the finer establishments I've been in.
It's visiting day. Time and people blur around me, but I can hear faithful loved talking to family members that are lucky to remember their names on a good day. Muffled grunts punctuated by a rush of words that somehow break past the labyrinth within their minds. Animated conversations with the coat rack for those with no guests.
I sit alone. I want them to leave so I can return to the bitter sanctuary of my prison. Dark and tiny and confining, but warm in a familiar sort of hurt. So I'll sit here, huddled in the corner, alone in my mind and in my body.
I'm waiting for someone.
But I don't know if he'll return.
My golden stranger.
Nondescript brown eyes. Dirty blond hair. Rough, calloused hands. But my wandering mind performs alchemy and distills his image into gold. Amber irises revealing his soul like sunlight through a stained glass window. Tears of dawn spun into golden thread. Gentle touch that burned my fears into ashes.
I've had much time to mull over this stranger. Perhaps too much. But he has become a sun in this midnight land of sterile light. He is the one I wait for.
"Yuugi?"
Hm? Ah, Dr. Solomon. "Tell me, Doctor," I say out loud, "why is a wiseman wondering amidst the mad?"
He chuckles. "Good question. I asked myself that everyday while I was sitting couches with the lawyers, CEOs, and businessmen. That's why I work here now." So odd to hear a moment of levity from this stocky man. He is well suited to his chosen task of solving the puzzles of other people's minds. At times, however, he seems too close, treating his charges as though they were kin to be cherished, rather than scattered minds to be brought back to flock.
The doctor's strange violet eyes flash again with the levity that seems so natural in his face but so very strange against his station. "You've got a visiter, Yuugi."
"Hn?"
"Over there." Solomon gestures across the sterile room to a figure standing distant near the doorway. "Technically he isn't allowed in this ward any more, but I thought a guest might do you good. You'll have to go to him."
Clever, clever Solomon. You seek to jolt me from my apathy and shake me from the gray that has settled about my sight. Very well. I nod in his direction and set about in the general way he pointed. Sweat beads my forehead. So hard to breath properly. Damn you, Solomon! You knew! Gray ghosts swim in and out of focus. I weave, trying not to touch them, trying not to feel warm flesh where my eyes insist there are only the ashes of vision.
I can hear them, smell them, touch them. But so very few people can register to my treacherous blood stained eyes. I cannot see them clearly, only a monochrome blur where living breath is exhaled. Solomon. Valentine. The tomb robber. Those few I can see clearly in the true spectrum. And him. I mustn't forget
Wait!
Gold rips across my peripheral vision and I spin around to stare dumbly into a familiar stranger's eyes.
"Hi," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his head. "Just thought I'd come in and see how you're doing, but they wouldn't let me past the front desk. Good thing the doc heard me yelling, huh?"
Bright, bright, so gloriously bright and vibrant. A red shirt with some arcane sports logo. Dark blue denim pants. Scuffed sneakers with a streak of black along each side. So vibrant, every thread and color and the excited flush painting his cheeks. He looks puzzled at my silence.
I manage to shove two syllables past my startled lips. "Hello."
"My name's Joey." He offers his hand. I grasp his fingers and palm, fingertips reveling in the feel of his skin. "So what should I call you?"
"Some insist on calling me Yuugi."
"That what you want to be called? The doc told me about the whole pharaoh bit. Or do you have a name you haven't told anyone else about?" There's a mischievous gleam from the teeth he's exposed by smiling.
"I have no name."
"So what did Yuugi call you?"
A brief panic stabs through me. What did he call me? Was there some secret gift of a name he bestowed upon me that I have failed to remember? I have been called friend, partner, brother, by my fallen charge. But-- No. There was never any need for a name. Not between us.
"There was no need for names between us. We--" Why does this hurt so much! I swallow a sob that regurgitates through my throat anyway. "Yuugi never had to--" I clutch at his red shirt and hide my face against his pale throat. "Yuugi--"
Something inside of me! Some hideous, poisonous cancer! I want to howl and claw it out of my chest, this wretched truth that burns at my vision, red crimson vermilion. Our parents gone and I walking about in Yuugi's skin. Vision so vibrant with color,
Yuugi so vibrant with life and new strength, fade like fade like fade like bleeding colors into the darkness of my night with no name no face of mine own lost into the sparse haiku of my mind spinning tale and meaning from so very few syllables and words
whispered against the curved shell of my ear. soft murmurs, meaning lost, but soft intent so very clear. Gentle words that break through the tremors wracking my small body.
Joey.
"Joey?"
Both of us are kneeling. His arms and my arms twined so densely about the other as to breed some new form of organic origami. I'm still shaking, but his tight embrace forces those shudders back within, thrumming about the core of me until my panic shatters. Joey's words gain form and substance and no longer flutter to the floor like slain butterflies.
"It's alright, I'm sorry, shouldn't have asked, come on, it's alright, I'm here, please, look at me, please, it's alright..."
"Joey?"
He doesn't pull away, but I can feel the desperate tension melt from his frame. He wrests a hand free and brushes the bangs away from my face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm here."
"Please give me a name. I don't know who I am."
"Dark. That's what your name is. It's not forever or anything, but that's where you are now. When you find yourself you'll be someone else and not Dark anymore. But that's who you are for now, 'kay?"
"Dark." It should be a slap to my pride to have the very nature of my identity thrown in my face. Dark, shadow, twilight. My name. A single word to hinge my identity upon, to remake myself until I am whole again. Dark. "Thank you, Joey."
He pulls away now, face mere inches from mine. What does he see in my face? Stranger? Madcap? Or does he see me as I see him? A precious salvation borne out of chaos? In my desperation for some sign of life in this prison, I know I have stretched his truth out of all possible proportions. He is as human as I am. But still.
I want to get closer, spill myself into his eyes and into his mind until I'm not alone anymore. Let me wrap my naked soul with his flesh. Joey. Take me inside you. Please. I'm lost in my mind, wandering and exposed to the echoes of this body. Joey. His hands rub up and down my spine. Stroke the flesh to reach the soul? I nestle against him and try to fold myself into the womb of comfort that surrounds him.
Turn my face to his, searching for something. Our mingled breath ushers a lethargic flow of heat across the surface of my skin. I press my mouth to his to drink in those breaths, least they dilute even in the short space between us. Joey drops his jaw in shock and I press deeper. Consume me, Joey, prove yourself the honorable cannibal.
I couldn't save Yuugi.
My only redemption is with Joey.
Please.
Joey.
Consume me.
His hand skitters across my jaw. But he does not pull away. Through some impossible fold and shift of our limbs, Joey presses me closer. His mouth moves against mine and his tongue invades my mouth. So wet and hot and this small body of mine burns with the heat of him. Joey. Help me out of this twilight and shadow. Help me find my true name.
Joey.