Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hey, Atem? Look. How does this sound?" Yuugi turned his laptop a little towards Atem. He cleared his throat and read, "Fourth floor, four hundred square feet, with central heating. Hmm... No elevator. But the rent is pretty okay."

"What is this?"

Yuugi rolled his eyes. "What does it look like? I'm looking for a new place."

"Already?"

"Well, yes. Ηere. Look at this."

"Alright," Atem craned his neck to better read at the screen. "Four hundred square feet... What does that mean?"

"Did you pay no attention at school?"

Atem shrugged.

Yuugi sighed and started to explain, only for Atem to interrupt him a moment later and say, "Oh, I see. Back in Egypt, we measured land using the setat, which was in subdivided in kha, and then in khet—"

"Cool. So, then, how do four hundred square feet sound?"

Atem hesitated. "I still don't really know how much that is. But... Maybe we could convert it in kha—"

"For reference, this apartment right here is a bit more than two thousand square feet."

"...Oh. That's..."

"A big difference, yeah," Yuugi nodded solemnly. "Wait, lemme see..." He clicked and scrolled a bit, then made a grimace. "Uh. It says here it has only one bedroom. Damn. Well, still, maybe we can make this work. We'll take turns on who sleeps in the bedroom and who sleeps in the living room—"

"I wouldn't mind sharing a bedroom with you," Atem said, and immediately panicked. "I mean, you know, back in Kame Game shop we shared a bedroom—I mean, I was in the Puzzle, so it doesn't count, but still, I wouldn't... I mean, I don't—" He was blabbering. Ra, this was embarrassing. If Shimon heard him, he'd cry for all the wasted oratory lessons. Atem should close his mouth and never utter a word again.

Yuugi did not seem to have noticed. He was tapping a fingertip to his lips, looking thoughtful. "Hm... Yeah, maybe we could fit two futons in there. It's gonna be cramped, but—" he gave Atem an apologetic smile. "Everything is gonna be cramped. Sorry."

"Don't apologize."

Yuugi was looking more regretful by the second. "We're not gonna be as comfortable as we are here. Maybe you don't want to—"

"I don't mind," Atem said.

Yuugi wasn't convinced. "Maybe you could crash at Jounouchi's? He has a bigger house. Or—?"

"I told you, aibou. I don't mind. Not as long as I'm with you."

Yuugi's gaze darted to Atem's and then immediately away. He heard him swallow in a dry throat. "Yeah. Um. Same here. So..." He let out a breathy laugh. "Cramped it is, then."

There was something about Yuugi's demeanor; something shy, guarded in a soft, gentle way. Or maybe Atem was reading too much into it. Maybe the pink on Yuugi's cheeks was just from the stress of looking for a new home.

Yes, Atem was definitely reading too much into it. He should really stop projecting his own feelings onto the situation, or he'd run the risk of making a horrible mess of things.

The thing was, it was hard. Every time Yuugi looked at him for more than a few seconds, Atem couldn't help but wonder if there was more behind that look, and every time Yuugi cuddled close to him on the couch, Atem wondered if it maybe meant more; he was searching for clues with the despair of a lost sailor looking for a sign of land.

It was simple projection, the logical part of his brain knew. He was hiding his feelings, so he kept trying to figure out if Yuugi was hiding something even a little bit similar behind all those looks and smiles and gestures. Atem wasn't proud of it. He had to constantly remind himself not to warp Yuugi's friendly affection into something different. But still. It was hard.

It was almost a relief every time he went to the bookstore for his shift. Among the endless dusty tomes, he had nothing to hide. He could drop all guards and let his thoughts roam. He would try to sort out a million indecipherable scrolls, and he could think about Yuugi without worrying about what might show on his face.

The following afternoon they went to see that small apartment from up close. It was worse than the description suggested—of course. Yuugi kept his spirits up despite it.

"Okay, that wasn't it. But we'll keep looking," he said as they walked back to the bus stop.

The day after that they saw three more apartments. And the day after, they saw two more.

Apartment hunting was horrible, Atem came to realize. The process was repetitive and disappointing, as they saw place after place, consuming what little free time their days had. The places they saw were never satisfying enough: they were either way too small for two people, or too old and decrepit, or too dank and dark, or like a narrow maze, or like a cage. Yuugi kept saying that it was okay, that they weren't aiming for anything like his current apartment anyway, but Atem saw the way the excited spark faded out of his eyes and his shoulders sagged in disappointment every time they walked in an apartment and took a look around.

"We just haven't found the right one yet," Yuugi said as he and Atem walked out of a basement that had been smelling distinctly of trash and mildew. "We'll find the right one eventually. Domino is big. I'm sure there's something that's just right for us out there."

"Sure," Atem said, appreciating Yuugi's optimism, "but do we really have that much time?"

Yuugi bit his lip. "To be honest... I don't know. I mean, I can keep paying the current rent for a while, but that will drain my savings pretty quickly."

"How much are you even paying for that place?"

Yuugi let out a chuckle, clouding the air with a wisp of fog. "Um—four times your salary, and then some."

"What?!" Atem had to stop and give Yuugi a good look. "Aibou, are you being serious?"

Yuugi just shrugged. "My salary could cover it comfortably, up until now."

"That's insane," Atem murmured. He didn't know exactly how much money Yuugi had in the bank, and it wasn't his place to ask, but he had seen first hand how hard it was to make actual money in this day and age. The thought that it would take more than four of Atem's monthly wages to keep living in that place made him blanche. And that was excluding food and other amenities, gas, electricity...

He would swear life wasn't as complicated back in his day and age. Then again, what did he know? He had been a king. His worries had been radically different from those of the common people.

"To be frank," Yuugi went on, "it would be great if we found a new place before next month's rent is due." He climbed onto a bus, and Atem climbed on after him. The doors swished shut and the vehicle started with a heave. "I mean, if things get rough, we could always ask Mom and Dad to put us up at Kame Game shop, but—" Yuugi visibly cringed, making a terrified grimace, "that wouldn't be great. They're both kinda furious with me."

"And they don't even know who I am," Atem said. "I don't know how you would explain my existence to them."

"Yeah..." After a brief silence, Yuugi added, "Well, I know our friends would help, too. Jou, or Honda, or even Seto have a big enough place to accommodate us for a while. It's just that..." He trailed off.

"You don't want to impose," Atem said.

"Well, yeah." Yuugi gave a one-shoulder shrug. "They've all got enough to think about without having me in their feet. Honda has a family, and Jou is always either travelling or teaching at Seto's battle school, and Seto—well, you can imagine what Seto's life is like." He shook his head. "I know they would all be more than glad to help, but I don't want to put any sort of strain on them."

Atem could understand. Same as he could also understand why Ryou Bakura's and Malik Ishtar's names weren't even being mentioned as potential hosts. They both had the extra struggle of handling their yamis; they didn't need anything else on their plates right now.

They got off the bus and walked the short distance from the bus stop to Yuugi's place, which, in light of everything, seemed like a gleaming, unapproachable tower.

"We've got ten minutes till Ryou and Bakura arrive," Yuugi sighed as they walked in and toed their shoes off. "I'll put on the kettle."

At least, they were making progress with the Spellbook. The two Bakuras were coming up with more things each time: connections between symbols, patterns and, in some cases, whole chunks of sentences. Atem still had no idea how they were doing any of it. He struggled to keep up, forcing himself to look at the pages at intervals, both out of curiosity and out of pride. He hated looking so useless in front of the thief—and he hated it even more whenever said thief threw a smirk his way, evidently amused by Atem's struggling.

Still, progress was progress, and Atem would take it.

Ryou was probably as elated by the progress as Atem was. He was looking better, somehow; still fearfully thin, with pale skin stretched over the jut of bone, but his eyes weren't as sunken as they had been a week ago, and the dark shadows underneath them had mellowed out. He was sitting by Bakura as if both unaware of his presence and extremely alert to it, ready to react at a heartbeat's notice. They weren't talking much, mostly exchanging notes and the occasional comment, but it didn't seem like they needed to, anyway. Their movements were curiously attuned, even though there still was the bite of sharp frost hovering between them. Ryou's words were curt, his lips often pressed together in a thin line, his gaze flicking towards Bakura only whenever it absolutely had to.

Bakura was a different matter entirely. He seemed to keep a distance that, if Atem didn't know any better, he would call respectful, but he never hovered too far away, and his attention was never truly pried away from Ryou. Atem still didn't know what to make of it. If there was a game at play here, Atem couldn't figure it out.

About forty minutes into their meeting, Ryou's fingers started getting twitchy around the pencil, and there was restlessness in his stance. Bakura noticed, his red gaze travelling from Ryou's hands to his face. He promptly reached into his pocket and took out his tobacco; he rolled a cigarette, sealed it, and presented it to Ryou without a word. Ryou looked at it with no hint at surprise or suspicion—maybe, faintly, there was a trace of gratitude in the way the lines around his jaw softened. He took the cigarette, murmured something about taking a break, and walked out to the balcony.

Bakura's gaze followed Ryou. He was positioned as if ready to stand, too, and follow him outside, but something was holding him back. Atem could practically see the thief battling with himself, and once or twice he thought the thief was about to get up—only to not move an inch in the end.

Before Bakura had a chance to decide to either go or stay, Yuugi interrupted the silence. "I think I'll go keep Ryou some company. I feel I haven't properly talked to him in ages." Yuugi's gaze turned to Atem in concern; a silent question. Will you be alright?

Atem nodded in acknowledgment of both said and unsaid statements. Bakura, on the other hand, sagged back in defeat.

With both Yuugi and Ryou gone, silence fell over the living room. Atem was half-expecting Bakura to grab the opportunity and go on a hateful rampage, showering Atem with every derisive epithet he could think of, but the thief did no such thing. If anything, he seemed indifferent to Atem's presence. His eyes were glued on the two people outside: Ryou, pale and wispy, standing next to Yuugi's colorful presence. The two of them were talking, the set on Yuugi's shoulders easy and comfortable; he laughed at something, and even Ryou's lips curled. Yuugi was shining like a sun against Domino's night sky, and Atem felt the familiar twist of affection and longing travel down his spine.

Slowly, some tightness in Ryou's body was released, and Atem watched the change happen, impressed but not surprised. He knew Yuugi had a gift. Wonderful, unique Yuugi. What he hadn't been expecting was the softening on the thief's features, as if he had noticed the change in Ryou, too, and was... what? Relieved? Content? None of the two made sense, yet that was what it looked like.

Ryou threw the butt of his cigarette off the railing and both he and Yuugi made their way back inside. Simultaneously, the two yamis shook themselves, sitting straighter and casting quick—guilty—glances at one another. Bakura cleared his throat and grabbed a Spellbook page and, by the time Ryou sat beside him, he was looking utterly absorbed by it.

It was one more hour before Ryou set his notes down with a definitive thud and said he had to home and study.

"I swear I still have no idea how they do any of it," Yuugi said on Thursday night, after seeing Ryou and Bakura out. He laid with his back on the door, looking at Atem all troubled and frowning and beautiful.

"Me neither," Atem admitted. "But sometimes, when they bother to explain, I think it makes... some kind of sense. In a very vague way."

Yuugi shrugged with a resigned huff. "At least Ryou can handle his yami just fine. I know, he's been saying so since the beginning, but... I had my doubts. Not because I don't know how fierce Ryou can be. But—I didn't expect Bakura to be so tame."

"I know," Atem said. "It makes me wonder if the thief has some underlying plan."

"Or maybe... He's telling the truth and he really wants to go back to the afterlife. That leaves him with no option but to cooperate."

"Could be," Atem said, even though he did not really believe it. He'd always mistrust Bakura, he thought—always, to both of their last breaths and beyond.

Yuugi yawned loudly and plopped onto the couch. "I'm so tired. But hey! Two more days of work. And then I'll be outta there."

"Down to two days already, eh?" Atem sat next to him, folding his legs underneath him.

"They couldn't go by faster." Yuugi let his head roll to the side and smiled at Atem, making parts behind Atem's ribs melt. "I can't wait."

"Yeah." Atem reminded himself to breathe. "Me neither."

"We should celebrate, I think. After it's over and done with."

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, you know," Yuugi gestured sleepily. "A night out with friends. Without worries." His gaze shifted to somewhere into nothingness and he took a deep, soft breath. "I need this so much."

"You deserve it," Atem said.

Yuugi turned to smile at him again. He didn't say anything. His eyes bore straight into Atem's, but they were soft, so very soft and full of emotion, that Atem felt that he could curl and lie into this gaze forever.

Atem let his body relax onto the cushions, his head coming to rest close to Yuugi's. He didn't mean to do that. Or maybe he did. They laid there, their heads lying against the back of the couch, facing each other without a word.

There was a momentary jolt of panic as Atem wondered whether he was too close to Yuugi. Then he thought that he wasn't close enough.

Slowly, in between gentle inhales and exhales, Yuugi's smile faded. He kept looking at Atem, his expression gradually sobering up. Atem felt pinned to the spot. His chest was an open wound, air escaping before reaching his lungs, his heart full out in display. If Yuugi reached out now, it would be his for the taking. Atem wouldn't stop him.

He could hear Yuugi's breath louder now. Atem wasn't sure if he himself was breathing. The air was heavy; the room beyond his small piece of couch seemed to have stopped existing.

Atem should not project. He knew he shouldn't. But he thought he could see something daring in the depths of Yuugi's eyes, something determined and fierce in a dazzling way. If Atem's body hadn't gone this numb, he might have reached out; he might have cupped Yuugi's cheek with his palm, might have threaded his fingers though his hair, and then—Then, maybe nothing. Maybe he would have waited to see what Yuugi would do next. Or he'd just stay like that, with his hand cradling Yuugi's face, and he'd let himself swim in his gaze for hours. He would be content with it.

Then do it, he thought. His hand was chained at his side. He hadn't felt dread like that before—not this scorching, hopeful kind. But still, it was very much dread, and he sat, paralyzed with it, not daring to move a finger.

Yuugi looked away. The room around them materialized again with the force of a punch, and Atem blinked, partly feeling like he had been thrown back into his body, and partly feeling like he was plummeting away from it.

Yuugi sat up. "Um... I think I'll go to bed. I still have to go to work tomorrow, so..."

"Yeah," Atem croaked. "Me too."

None of them pointed out that it was way earlier than their usual bedtime. Atem bid Yuugi goodnight with something akin to relief, and Yuugi seemed thoughtful and unusually somber as he retreated to his room.

That was a close one, Atem, you moron, Atem's brain hissed at him. He lay on his bed, pushing his fists into his eyes, grateful that he didn't do anything more stupid than sit next to Yuugi and stare, and terrified at what might have happened if he had moved his hand.

He felt like clawing at his ribcage. He was jealous of his old body, with all its organs sealed in canopic jars somewhere far away. His people had been on to something. He wished he could get rid of his insides now, heart and brain and all.

And yet, he couldn't get Yuugi's gaze out of his head. There had been something about it.

You're projecting again, Atem told himself.

And yet.

Yuugi chalked it all up to tiredness. Fatigue and logical thinking weren't exactly the best pals. Fatigue made him wanna curl close to Atem and wrap himself around him and just—stay there, and breathe, them against everything else. He was beyond lucky to be living this. To have him back, alive. To be living with him. To be about to build a different future, this time with him by his side.

It was all he could think about the following day at work. That, and wonder if it would have been that bad if he had indeed curled against Atem last night, the way he'd thought of doing. He and Atem were close in a way that trancended bodies and time. So, why shouldn't he? Why shouldn't they? Who was to say that maybe it wasn't normal, or maybe it wasn't right, or maybe it was weird?

In the end, Yuugi hadn't wanted to make Atem feel weird. This body and this world were still new for Atem, and Yuugi didn't want to push more into his plate than he could perhaps handle. It didn't matter. Maybe they'd never get to be exactly as close as they'd been when Atem had been in the Puzzle, but they would have all the time in the world to build a different kind of closeness. They might no longer be able to share thoughts, but they'd make it so that they wouldn't need to. Yuugi knew it.

Friday at work was a messy blur. Yuugi talked to people, only half-noticing what he was saying; he was aware of many pleasantries, and many different iterations of I'm glad we got to work together, take care. It had been just an endless tying of loose ends, folders being closed, shelves and drawers being emptied, hands shaken, polite smiles. All the while, Yuugi had been dreaming of the following evening, when he'd get to walk out of there for the last time. And, after that, he'd have an entire night to spend with his friends and have fun and feel truly free.

Saturday dawned with excitement buzzing in the air. Yuugi woke up early, with an impatience that made it impossible to go back to sleep. He got up, washed his face and brushed his teeth, and mused about how he hadn't felt that excited about going to work in years. He put on his gray suit, and wondered whether it would be fun to set it on fire tomorrow, so that he'd never have to lay eyes on it again.

"Aibou?" Atem shuffled out of the guest room, blurry eyed and wild-haired. "Up already? It's too early."

Yuugi bounded up to him, vibrating with energy despite not having had a single drop of coffee yet. "Good morning, Atem! Sorry if I waked you up."

Atem took his time to rub his eyes. "'t's alright. What time is it?"

"Too early. Go back to sleep."

"What about you?"

"Oh, didn't you hear?" Yuugi opened his arms, his briefcase dangling from one hand, and beamed at Atem. "It's my last day at work!"

Atem breathed out a hoarse, sleepy laugh. "Go get them, then, aibou."

"Oh, I will!" Yuugi giggled, and before it even registered as a fully-formed thought in his head, he leaned forward and gave Atem a quick peck on the cheek. "See you tonight, okay? We're meeting with the guys at nine!" He couldn't stop smiling.

Atem blinked, looking wide awake all at once. "Uh—Eh—Right—The guys—Um—Nine—Yeah—Sure. Tonight, um, yeah. I remember."

Yuugi snorted out a laugh. "Seriously. Go back to sleep. See ya!"

Atem tried not to think too much about it. Yuugi was just affectionate like this. And he'd been so excited. That was all.

He didn't stop thinking about it. All morning, while dusting bookshelves, and during his lunch time, while struggling to eat a bite from his sandwich, and all afternoon, while sorting out scrolls and manuscripts.

"There's something troubling you, young man," Mr Sakamoto said, eyeing him over his foggy spectacles.

What was Atem supposed to answer to that? He tried to look absorbed by the manuscript he was holding. "Um—no, I'm okay."

Mr Sakamoto shuffled closer, leaning on his cane. "Heart troubles?"

"Uh—no, my heart is fine."

Mr Sakamoto chuckled. "Okay, I didn't mean to pry. But if you want an old man's advice..." He gave Atem a knowing smile, and Atem pretended not to notice, "life is really not that long. So, take a chance."

He pushed his spectacles up his nose with his withered, callused hand, and shuffled away again, his cane clanking on the floor. Atem took a breath to calm his racing heart.

Life is long, Atem could have replied, for someone like me. Three thousand years and counting. Too many years for someone to have spent in solitude. And Atem didn't want to spend more of them like this. But that was why things weren't as simple as 'taking a chance'. Yuugi was... Yuugi. Atem couldn't risk losing him. He'd rather live with his heart silently burning beneath his ribs, as Yuugi's friend, forever, than risk not having Yuugi in his life at all.

Mr Sakamoto didn't know half of it, or this wouldn't be the advice he'd give.

Atem hesitated. What if he actually asked for Mr Sakamoto's advice? He didn't know Yuugi, and there was slim chance that the issue would reach Yuugi's ears through him. Mr Sakamoto had no ties with any of them, and that made it... perfect. An impartial judge. This was as close to objectivity as Atem could hope for.

He got to his feet, his heart pounding. Maybe he was crazy for wanting to talk about it with a stranger. But it felt infinitely less scary than talking about it to someone who wasn't a stranger.

Atem marched to Mr Sakamoto's desk. The old man was already sitting behind it, magnifying glass in hand. Atem, propelled by determination and a sharp despair, set his hands on the desk and said, "It's my best friend."

Mr Sakamoto slowly lowered the magnifying glass. He eyed Atem again, looking mildly surprised at first, then troubled. "I see."

"I can't just take a chance." Atem knew he must have gone mad; some part deep inside shouted at him to shut up, bottle it up, act like he had everything under control, act like a king, for heaven's sake. He would find a solution alone, in silence, as he ought to. That was what kings did.

And, honestly, damn it all to hell.

"He's my best friend," Atem repeated, voice cracking, and he was doing it wrong, doing it all wrong: not even his voice was right, but he couldn't help it.

Mr Sakamoto blinked at him. His brow softened. "He?"

Atem swallowed. Oh no. He shouldn't have said that. He was doing everything wrong—

"It's okay. No need to fret," Mr Sakamoto said. "It's fine."

Atem stared at him, his body on edge like an animal about to make a run for it at the first suspicious movement. He tried to figure out whether Mr Sakamoto was being honest. But. Why wouldn't he be?

The old man made a troubled face. "So. Best friend, huh? That's... rough."

Atem relaxed marginally. He didn't speak.

Mr Sakamoto rubbed his eyes with a sigh. "I guess, my advice still stands. Life is too short to not take a chance."

Atem shook his head. "I'm older than I look. And I remember what life was like without him. I can't bear to think that I would ever have to live without him again."

"So you'd rather just reach my age, only to look back and wonder what might have been?"

Atem stammered. The thought was terrible. The alternative was also terrible.

"I don't know what to do," he said truthfully.

"No one ever does. That's the beauty of it." Mr Sakamoto picked up his magnifying glass again and started inspecting the carvings on an old tobacco case. Atem took this as his cue to leave.

He was even more confused than before.

Come evening, Atem had decided. He would do nothing. He would go out with Yuugi and their friends, and they would have fun. And that was all. He valued this friendship more than anything else, that was the one thing he was certain of. So he would do nothing.

He got home first and got ready for his night out. He felt the need to get a grip, so he picked the clothes that made him feel more sure in himself. Tight black denim pants, buckles, boots; an armor. He adorned himself in dangling earrings and chains before moving on to eyeliner.

He heard the front door slam, and then Yuugi's excited voice. "Atem!"

He put down the eyeliner, but before he could go out to meet him, Yuugi materialized at the door of the bathroom. "Guess who's unemployed!" he said with a wide grin. Then his eyes went wide and his gaze swept Atem from head to toes. "Wow."

Atem's stomach gave a throb, as if he'd just taken a punch. Get a grip, he reminded himself.

"Man," Yuugi said, leaning against the doorcase. "If that's what you're gonna look like tonight, I'd better up my game, too."

Atem laughed. Laugh it off. It doesn't mean anything.

"It's not a contest, aibou."

"Now it is," Yuugi said with a twinkle in his eyes, and disappeared into his bedroom.

Atem gripped the edges of the sink and closed his eyes.

"Ryou and Malik can't make it, by the way!" Yuugi yelled from the next room. "Malik's gotta work and Ryou has to study. And Honda is taking Miko at some kid's birthday party, bless him. So it's just gonna be me, you, Jou and Seto!"

"Okay," Atem called back. He picked up the eyeliner again. It's not a contest, he had said, and yet now he took extra care with his eyeliner, determined to make it nothing less than striking.

Atem's heart skipped wildly in his ribcage when Yuugi walked back into the bathroom, wearing skin-tight leather pants, a purple shirt and a leather harness over it, its straps crisscrossing over his torso. A subtle smudge of kohl lined his eyes, and his hair framed the whole thing perfectly. Atem went a bit weak at the knees.

"Wow, aibou," he said when Yuugi looked at him expectantly.

"I bought this years ago, but never quite found the right time to wear it," he said, hooking a thumb under the leather harness. "Or maybe I never found the nerve," he chuckled.

"Well, it looks great on you," Atem said, and immediately had to stop his brain from imagining how great Yuugi would look with nothing but that harness on. No. No. Don't go there. He felt the need to hide his face, or maybe his whole being. Dig a hole and crawl in to hide.

"Are you ready?" Yuugi said with a wide grin.

No, Atem thought. "Yes."

"Let's go, then! The cab should be here any minute."

Yuugi took him to the same bar they'd gone a few weeks ago—Tarantula. Atem remembered the place from the last time they'd been there: the low, colorful lighting, the windows lining the walls, the tall tables and stools. That had been on a week-night. Tonight, however, was Saturday, and the vibe was completely different. The place was packed already, the music louder, thrumming in slow, bone-deep vibrations. The dance-floor, which had been mostly vacated the previous time, was now full of people, standing with drinks in their hands, talking and laughing and swaying to the rhythm.

Yuugi spotted a free table in the back, close to one of the windows, and hurried to claim it. Atem followed, squeezing through the people with both trepidation and excitement. There were no free stools left, so they stood by the tall table, Yuugi grinning widely. The beat was reverberating through Atem, steady like a beast's pulse, and he smiled back at Yuugi, hoping he wasn't looking as out of place as he felt.

"Jou and Seto are on their way," Yuugi said—well, shouted would be more accurate.

Atem nodded. The music was making his whole skull vibrate.

"You okay?" Yuugi leaned towards him to be heard over the rattle of music.

Atem nodded again. "It's just—" He hesitated, oddly embarrassed.

"What?".

"I've never... been to a place like this."

Yuugi laughed. "We were here the last time! Did you forget?"

"Yes, but—it wasn't—like this."

"Well, sure! It's Saturday night!" Yuugi's grin faltered a bit. He leaned even closer to Atem. "You want us to go someplace else?"

"No, no," Atem shook his head hastily. "It'll just—take a while for me to get used to it."

Yuugi gave Atem a playful punch on the arm. "Hey, now, Mr Pharaoh, didn't you have parties back in Egypt?"

Atem chuckled. "We did. But they didn't look like that."

"What did they look like?"

"Well... You know. Boring. I sat on the throne while girls danced and rich people feasted at the banquet." Atem laughed, realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

"Well, we gotta fix that! What do you wanna get?"

"Um..." Atem took a quick look around. He saw tall glasses filled with liquids of all sorts of colors, even blue and green. He had no idea what any of that was. "...Tequila? Like last time?"

Yuugi laughed. "Did you read my thoughts or what?"

Atem smiled, maybe a bit more slyly that he intended. "Can't do that anymore, no matter how much I want to."

Yuugi leaned closer, bringing his face closer to Atem and returning the smile in kind. "And I would argue that you still can." Something in the way he said it and the way he looked at him made Atem feel like a heavy ball of heat had just landed low in his belly.

"Alright, then," he said. Suddenly he couldn't wait for the tequila to arrive.

Yuugi gave their order to a waitress, and then shot up excitedly, waving an arm and practically bouncing up and down. "It's Jou and Seto! Hey! Hey, Jou! Seto! Over here!"

Jounouchi was squeezing his way through the dancing crowd; behind him, holding Jounouchi's hand, came Seto Kaiba, looking mildly disinterested to everything that was happening around him, if not disdained.

"Hey, guys!" Jou shouted, grinning. "Wow, pal! Unemployment suits you! Or is it being single?" He gave Yuugi a good look up and down.

Yuugi laughed, delighted. "Both, I think! Hey, Seto! How are you?"

Kaiba twisted his mouth in something that could have either been a smile or a scoff. "Hey, Yuugi. Pharaoh," He gave Atem a curt nod and turned back to Yuugi. "Congratulations on your resignation."

"And his breakup," Jounouchi added.

Kaiba shrugged. "I just hope you'll choose a better company to cooperate with next. One like, say, Kaiba Corp."

"No business talk today!" Jounouchi shouted, ruffling Kaiba's hair with a playfulness that Atem would bet would have costed Jounouchi his hand in the past. Kaiba did not react in the slightest. "What'd you get?" he asked Yuugi.

"Tequila."

"'Kay, cool! You okay with that, Seto?"

Kaiba shrugged.

The drinks arrived, along with a plate of sliced limes and a bowl of salt.

"You remember how it's done?" Yuugi asked Atem as he filled their tiny glasses.

"Er—First salt, then drink, then lime?"

Yuugi beamed. "That's right!" He rolled back the sleeve of his purple shirt. Kaiba unbuttoned the cuffs of his spotless white button-up and rolled them up to his elbows in neat, measured folds. Jounouchi and Atem were wearing t-shirts, so their arms were already exposed.

They all licked the back of their palms, and sprinkled salt on it. "Ready?" Yuugi said, the neon green light dancing in his eyes.

Jounouchi lifted his shot glass. "To Yuugi!"

Yuugi followed suit. "To being free!"

Kaiba also raised his glass, without saying anything, and Atem mimicked them, wondering if he should say something. There were a million things he wanted to say. "To Yuugi," he said at last, feeling that now-familiar stab of longing.

Simultaneously, they licked the salt off their hands and downed the shots of tequila. Atem had forgotten how potent that drink was; it set a trail of tingling fire from his throat to his stomach, hitting him both like a punch and like a slap. The intense taste came next, and he hurried to bite the lime, half-dazed by the intensity of it all. The sourness of the lime scratched the back of his eyes like nails, immediately making them water, and he set his glass down, panting as if he'd just run.

"Whoo!" Jounouchi yelled, and laughed loudly.

Kaiba seemed unruffled. He smirked at Atem. "What's up, pharaoh? Tough game?"

"I'm fine," Atem said, still trying to catch his breath. He wiped his eyes, careful not to get any lime in them—and not to ruin his eyeliner, cause, come on. He'd spent half an hour perfecting it.

Yuugi laughed and leaned over to squeeze Atem's thigh, right above his knee. "He's fine, he's just warming up!"

For a moment, Atem could register nothing but Yuugi's hand on his thigh. His whole esophagus was still burning, but it was getting pleasant now, reaching up to his head like a warm whisper. He chuckled, too. "He's right. This is just the pre-game."

He grinned at Yuugi, in that conspiratorial way he only kept for him, and Yuugi returned the smile, as if this were a joke that no one but the two of them shared. Atem reached for the tequila bottle and refilled their glasses.

The music was a steady beat that had crawled inside his ribs, pulsating around his heart and lungs. It wasn't as bad now. It was, in all honestly, kinda fun. Exhilarating in a peculiar way.

They emptied their glasses a second time. Atem refilled their glasses.

"Whoa, man," Jounouchi laughed. "Slow down there!"

"We're out to celebrate, Jou!" Yuugi shouted, and pushed his glass towards Atem, who proceeded to fill it. "Guess what? It doesn't matter if I get wasted cause I've got. No. Job. Anymore. Woohoo!" He lifted his glass.

Atem licked the salt, downed the shot, and bit the lime. A wave of warm, blissful numbing hit his head. He blinked it away.

Yuugi was grinning, all bright eyes and dimples in his cheeks. "No boss anymore!" he yelled, filling their glasses again.

Jounouchi pushed his shot glass away. "Hey, I'm gonna take it a bit slower, here, okay?"

"Hmph," Kaiba scoffed, and picked up his own glass. He downed it and bit the lime without even grimacing. "Anyway, I hope that now you'll work for someone who appreciates your talent."

"Well, before finding a new job, I gotta find a new place to live," Yuugi replied.

"You're moving out?" Jounouchi yelled.

Yuugi nodded. "There's no way I can keep paying the current rent. Plus, well, I don't wanna." He refilled their glasses. "I've got some money aside, but they'll evaporate before I know it if we keep living there."

"And how's the house-hunting going?"

"Bad," Yuugi said with a grin. "It's so hard to find something good with a decent rent. All the places we've seen, are—well..."

"Terrible," Atem said.

Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "You should have told me earlier. I'll call my agents. They'll find something for you in no time."

"Oh," Yuugi laughed, a bit uncomfortable. "I wouldn't dare demand such a favor from you."

"Funny," Kaiba said, deadpan. "I'd swear I've heard you say that this is what friends are for."

"Awww!" Jounouchi leaned over and wrapped an arm around Kaiba's shoulders, squeezing them. "You're so sweet!" he grinned, ignoring Kaiba's murderous scowl.

"It is very sweet, Seto. Thank you," Yuugi said.

Kaiba waved a hand, as if he wasn't interested in such displays of gratefulness. "Consider it done. When do you have to leave your place?"

Yuugi let out chuckle rife with discomfort. "Er... By the end of the month, ideally."

"Okay," Kaiba said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"To moving out!" Jounouchi yelled, raising his shot glass.

"To moving out!" Yuugi chimed in.

They all clinked glasses; licked the salt; drank.

Drinking, Atem found, made it easier to look at Yuugi without feeling that his insides are going to waste away. The longing was still there, but some part in him was released—maybe the part that worried and stressed endlessly—so, the longing was a thing that existed, somewhere, in him. Honestly maybe it had always existed there, deep inside him, slowly digging its way out: it was part of him, and always would be. And maybe it was okay. He loved Yuugi. With all his being. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't love Yuugi—and it was okay. It was who he was. It was who he had always been.

He could keep that part of himself, and still have fun with Yuugi, and joke, and laugh. He refilled their glasses, moving his head to the music nearly subconsciously, laughing at something that Jounouchi said, looking at the sparkle in Yuugi's eyes, and feeling both soaking in the moment and oddly detached from it—parts of him were numb, parts of him were burning, and he was having so much fun.

His limbs felt loosened, and he found it easier to lean closer to Yuugi, and laugh, and maybe return the touches and the squeezes on his arm, and his shoulder, and his thigh. It was okay. They were friends, right? Friends. Best friends.

Yuugi was so happy. Watching him was the best thing in the world; under those strobing, multicolored lights, and the air vibrating with the beat, and the dancing, writhing crowd, it was beyond bliss. Atem had really missed on the best of life by worrying constantly. Stupid, stupid him. He had everything in his hands. He was happy, just like that. It was okay.

"Oh, I like this song!" Jounouchi shouted at some point. The dance-floor was packed, and the lights were dazzling. Jounouchi pulled at Kaiba's arm. "Come on, come oooon!"

With a roll of his eyes, Kaiba set his glass down and followed Jounouchi to the dancefloor. They quickly disappeared into the mass of moving bodies.

Yuugi giggled. "They're so cute sometimes."

Atem felt stupid for asking the obvious, but he did it anyway. "Are they... together?"

Yuugi laughed. He cocked his head and looked at Atem with a look that screamed 'duh'.

"Oh," Atem said. He didn't even know why he was so surprised.

Yuugi filled Atem's glass, spilling a bit of tequila. "Oops," he giggled. "I think they won't mind if we go on without them, eh?"

"I don't think so," Atem said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. The tequila wasn't feeling as strong anymore. If anything, it went down his throat as easily as water. The music had become one with his blood, pulsing through him at sync with his heart, and he found he was moving to it without realizing it. It seemed inescapable; everything in here pulsed with it, from the bodies to the greenish lights that bathed everything in its otherworldly illumination.

He licked his hand, sprinkled salt at the same time that Yuugi did, and then they both laughed, without any particular reason. "To what shall we drink?" Yuugi said.

"You choose. It's your night."

"Okay," Yuugi giggled. "Um... To—games! Game nights with friends! To friends!"

"All of that, yes," Atem said, picking up his glass.

He licked the salt with a numb tongue and downed the shot without feeling it. Jounouchi had been right: this song was good. The beat was glorious, rattling the base of Atem's spine.

Yuugi tried to fill their glasses again. He spilled more tequila.

"Let me," Atem said, and reached out to take the bottle. He brushed Yuugi's palm, maybe more than he strictly had to, but it didn't matter, did it? He filled the glasses; he spilled some tequila on the table, too. Yuugi laughed.

They licked their palms, sprinkled salt, drank, bit the limes. They were out of limes. They laughed.

Yuugi refilled their glasses. "To what shall we toast?"

"To you. Its your night," Atem said. Yuugi's face was so close. Maybe Atem hadn't realized how close he had actually moved to Yuugi. Maybe Yuugi had moved closer without Atem realizing. Atem lost himself in Yuugi's gaze for a couple of seconds—lost himself in that shimmering purple, those endless depths which he had once known from the inside out, and for the barest of seconds, he felt like the old Atem again, the spirit, tethered to Yuugi, able to touch his soul and feel just how heartbreakingly soft it was, like the finest silk, like the lightest veil.

Yuugi lifted his hand; the salt on in sparkled with blue and purple and green hues, right before Yuugi's tongue swept at it, leaving behind a wet trail that glistened on his skin, taking a myriad of colors. Atem stared, fascinated. Yuugi was a blazing presence, scorching the air Atem breathed, and he stirring in his gut grew stronger, edged on by the beat and turned into something deep, heady and all-consuming.

Yuugi giggled. "Won't you drink?" Even as he said it, he reached out and refilled his glass. He sprinkled some salt on his already wet hand. Atem watched the salt sparkling on Yuugi's skin, framing the delicate bones of his hand. It was mesmerizing, pulling at Atem like a furious tide.

Atem grabbed Yuugi's wrist. He didn't think about it; or maybe he did, and it seemed like the best idea in the world. He looked at Yuugi, to see if he would object, if he would pull away—and when he didn't, Atem lifted Yuugi's hand to his mouth and licked the salt off his skin. It made his tongue numb, but not numb enough to not feel the endless smoothness of Yuugi's palm, the heat of his skin, the slight scrape of the crystals of salt against it.

He felt, rather than heard, Yuugi's breath hitch; saw the tremor that ran up his arm and the fine hair rise in the haze of green illumination. Atem raised his eyes to Yuugi's, distantly shocked by his own boldness, nervousness pulsing in his gut as he watched for Yuugi's reaction. Yuugi seemed as shocked as he was, but not repulsed or angry. He stared at Atem, mouth half-open in some gasp; then he laughed, sharp, amused. Relief mixed with an inexplicable sense of triumph, and Atem straightened, bolder, grinning back at Yuugi as if he'd just revealed a game-changing trap card.

Without taking his eyes off Yuugi's, Atem downed his shot of tequila. He didn't reach for a slice of lime. They were out of them, anyway.

He blinked off the fresh wave of dizziness the shot brought, and steadied his gaze to find Yuugi still looking at him, still breathing through parted lips, stunned. And then Yuugi smirked, wicked.

Atem's heart fell to his stomach as Yuugi grabbed his wrist; his grip was powerful, determined, and Atem thought he wouldn't be able to pry his hand away even if he wanted to. Which he absolutely did not want.

He let Yuugi guide his hand, let him pull it close to his mouth. He felt the warm, wet caress of Yuugi tongue right on the inside of his wrist, where his veins met and showed blue and red against his skin; he went light-headed with the feeling of it as the ground disappear from under him, from under them all; then Yuugi sprinkled salt on Atem's wrist and, looking at him straight in the eyes, lowered his head to lick at it, making Atem lose his head all over again.

Yuugi kept staring at Atem for a second, or maybe several seconds, or maybe for no time at all; and then he picked up his glass and emptied it. He scrunched his eyes shut, grimaced, and when he opened them again, he laughed.

He didn't say anything. He refilled their glasses.

Atem felt rooted to the spot. His heart beat so fast he thought he might faint with it, but there was a new part of him that was growing bolder, that demanded more; that saw Yuugi's smirk and wanted to raise it to a sigh, or a moan.

He grabbed Yuugi's wrist. He licked a trail from the base of his wrist up to his elbow; savored the soft, fragile skin and felt, rather than saw, goosebumps ripple through Yuugi like small shocks of lightning. The whole world had tilted on its axis. Atem straightened and smirked, still holding Yuugi's wrist in his fingers. "Your move."

Yuugi's eyes were fixed on him, both bright and dark, darker than Atem remembered them. His chest was rising and falling sharply, and he was close, so close Atem could swear he could hear his breaths despite the noise.

Yuugi's lips curled at the corners.

Atem thought of feeling these lips against his. Of biting this soft, curled up corner. Of tasting the breath beyond them.

Gods. Dear Ra and Hathor help him. What was he to do?

Yuugi laughed; the sound got lost in the intoxicating beat of the music. "Wanna dance?"

Dance. Atem had never danced before. Dancing was something reserved for the common people, or the experienced dancers the palace hired; something to watch, never to actually perform. Kings didn't dance. But Atem was hardly a king anymore.

He nodded before he knew what he was doing, and then Yuugi's fingers were around his wrist again, pulling him away from the table and onto the dance floor.

They squeezed through moving bodies, Yuugi's grip powerful around Atem's wrist, guiding him with a certainty Atem couldn't help but relinquish himself to. There, among the dark sea of bodies and movement and music, everything was a hundred times more intense; the beat lodged itself in his lungs, next to his breath. Yuugi let Atem's hand go, but he didn't move away; there was no room to do so anyway. The writhing throng of people kept them decidedly close to each other, but Yuugi seemed unconcerned, delighted, even. He closed his eyes and started moving along to the rhythm, like all the other bodies around him, swept away by the heady beat. Atem didn't move, and bodies bumped against him awkwardly. He felt as stiff as a stick in between lapping waves of water, uncertain of what to do except, well—the obvious.

Yuugi opened his eyes, his movements slowing to a near halt as he gave Atem a questioning look. The smile was still etched on his lips, and the upwards tilt of his eyebrow seemed like an invitation. As if reading Atem's hesitation on his face, he moved closer, nearly sticking his body on Atem's, and leaned towards his ear. "Follow my lead."

Then Yuugi's hands were on his hips, light—nearly ghosting over the waistband of Atem's black denim, but present enough for Atem to fell their gentle guidance. Yuugi moved , his body in sync with the writhing tide around them, and Atem found himself following.

Atem closed his eyes and the beat washed through him, deep and carnal. The alcohol was humming in his veins, loosening up his limbs as if in some devilish accord with the music. He could still feel Yuugi right there, his body pressing against him with every move. He heard a laugh, and then Yuugi's voice purred in his ear, "That's it. See? You've got this."

Atem had to fight to keep breathing under the rush of hot, pure need as Yuugi's breath caressed the sensitive skin under his ear. He swallowed tightly, but he kept following Yuugi's lead. It felt easy; natural; the easiest thing in the world. Something tight under his ribs unfurled, and he closed his eyes again, submitting to it all.

There was nothing else but the beat, running through his veins like something tangible, making him move. He didn't think. Didn't think. Let the deep bass fill his limbs, let his head move, and the whole world swam with him, moving like one huge body, a dark mass of water. He'd never known freedom like this. The bass was rich, steady. This was what the divine trance of the oracles must have been, from the beginning of times, across the eons; that complete surrender of body, the dictates of another power, the glorious release; what the sibyls had yearned to touch, what the seers adored, what every witch and every saint had happily given their souls to.

It was intoxicating bliss; a primal, feral thing. Muscle after muscle snapped free, until Atem's whole being was released under the deep, conquering growl of the beat. Yuugi's fingers moved along his waist, either by the inevitability of dance or by Yuugi's own volition, Atem didn't know. All he could register was the jolt of electricity that quivered his spine as Yuugi's fingers crept up Atem's waist, under the thin fabric of the t-shirt he was wearing, and stayed there, sometimes pressing, sometimes barely touching his trembling skin. Need thickened in Atem, but everything had taken on a transient quality, so he barely thought about it before curling his fingers around Yuugi's hips, too. Part of him realized that there might be a line there that he was skimming dangerously close to, but it only made his head swim with the thrill of it.

Yuugi wasn't pulling away—the fact made a heated arc from Atem's stomach to his groin. If anything, Yuugi pressed even closer, the expanse of his harness-strapped chest pushing against Atem, crashing against him, moving with him, them against everything; and Atem could forget it all, right here and now, forsake it all, sacrifice it all, for this. He gripped Yuugi harder, and then Yuugi's nose was at the crook of his neck, his lips hovering over his collarbone, sometimes brushing against it with the inevitability of their movement. It was unreal, and it was the only tangible point of reference in the whole universe.

Gods. It was worth it being alive. For this.

He felt Yuugi's pelvis grind against his for one wonderful, maddening moment—it was gone the next, leaving Atem to reel alone among the raging waves—then Yuugi was there, with his back to him, the length of his body laying against Atem, his head dropped back onto Atem's shoulder, moving in the same beat that shook the whole dancefloor. Atem buried his nose in Yuugi's hair, knowing that he shouldn't, knowing full well that it didn't matter, not now—and they kept moving, and Atem was painfully, painfully aware of the back of Yuugi's body against his, of his hips moving, of the blood raging in his veins—he was getting dizzy with it all, and yet he didn't want it stop, ever. He pressed himself against Yuugi, and felt the world go still for the barest of breaths, before Yuugi moved, and longing shot up Atem's spine like electricity. He was all too aware of how hard he was, and it took all of Atem's considerable willpower not to grind against him, even though he could feel his body being torn in two with the desire for it.

Atem laid a hand on each side of Yuugi's waist, gripping the hipbones protruding from the leather waistband. It made Atem reel a little. He ran a thumb over the jut of smooth bone and immediately felt the shudder that ran through Yuugi's body.

The feeling between Atem's legs was getting painful and, with a sudden jolt of panic, realized that Yuugi could probably feel it, moving as he was against Atem's pelvis—if Yuugi could even register that detail among the general writhing chaos. Atem drew back a bit, hoping to keep the incriminating evidence from him, but the sudden movement startled Yuugi enough to raise his head and disentangle from Atem. Nothing amiss was on Yuugi's expression, though; he laughed and kept dancing, with a hand on Atem's shoulder—but it was too little, too little after everything that Atem had just felt. He wanted to grab Yuugi, glue him against him, feel that shudder again. It was insane. He was going insane. Yuugi was laughing; it was a game to him. A game. He was just having fun. He wasn't thinking what Atem was thinking—except that Atem felt he was hardly thinking at all.

Yuugi had no idea of the need that boiled under Atem's skin, no idea of the painful intensity of it. He was just having fun, possibly more than a little intoxicated, savoring his freedom for the first time in years, and he had no idea that this meant something entirely different to Atem. Which was okay. It was how it should be. Atem was the one who needed to get a grip.

As if sensing the change in Atem's demeanor, Yuugi gave him a questioning look. Mind still fuzzy with helpless need, Atem shouted something about needing the bathroom, and he squeezed his way out of the dancefloor, feeling like he was fleeing the scene of a crime.

He followed a sign and eventually stumbled in the bathroom: a room of bright red tiles, covered in graffiti and stickers. When the door closed behind him, it muffled the slow, roiling beat, leaving Atem's ears to buzz furiously. He looked in the mirror; his flushed face looked back at him, his chest heaving.

Gods above and below. What had he been doing out there? He should get a hold of himself.

He tried to rearrange his pants around the hardness between his legs, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. If he went out there again, with Yuugi moving like that against him, eyes dark with the ecstasy of the dance and hands skimming thoughtlessly over him, Atem wasn't certain he would be able to hold himself back for long. He would do things he knew he would regret in the morning, if not instantly. Hell, he might have even done a couple of such things already.

He ran a tap and splashed some water on his face, then fixed his smudged eyeliner with a paper towel.

The door slammed open and a veritable tangle of limbs stumbled in: a couple locked in a passionate kiss, hands all over each other. They leaned against one heavilly graffitied wall and kept kissing loudly, completely oblivious to Atem's presence. Hastily, Atem ducked out of the bathroom and left them to it.

Once out of the bathroom, the music swooshed through his bones again. It was enticing to go back to the dancefloor and finish what he and Yuugi had started, but some deep-ingrained self-restraint forced his steps back to their table. It was safer.

He avoided the throng on the dancefloor, squeezing through its outskirts, and made for the line of windows in the back. Once their table came into view, he halted.

Yuugi was already there, and he was not alone.

A guy was standing next to him, and elbow comfortably propped against the table as he leaned towards Yuugi. His smile, the hungry look in his eyes, as well as the whole set of the man's body, made it clear that he was flirting.

Yuugi laughed and said something. The man withdrew, raising his palms in a defensive gesture and smiled awkwardly before leaving.

Atem shouldered the remaining of the distance to the table, with something akin to anger making his movements jerky and rough. When he reached their table, Yuugi's face lit up. "Hey Atem! Are you thirsty? I got us some water!" He raised a bottle of water in triumph and filled a glass.

Atem made no move to drink. He looked towards the way the man had left; he had already disappeared in the writhing shadows. "What was that about?"

"Oh." Yuugi giggled, spilling some of his water. "That guy? He was hitting on me."

"I figured," Atem said, feeling the way his voice growled in his throat. He could sense a different kind of tightness in his belly. Jealousy. That guy had done what Atem was fighting tooth and nail to not allow himself to do, and he had walked away as if it had been nothing. "What did you tell him?" Atem asked, hoping the motives of his interest wouldn't be too distinct.

Yuugi shrugged and emptied his glass of water. "Well, I told him the truth. I'm not gay." He laughed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

A shard of numbness stabbed Atem right under his lungs, spreading outwards. "Right," he heard himself say.

Of course. It was as simple as that.

Then whatever had happened on the dance-floor—

It just hadn't been the same for Yuugi. Nothing but fun and games.

And Atem had been so stupid to even think there might be something more—

"I mean," Yuugi went on, laughing, "I was married to a woman. Poor bloke seemed so disappointed when he heard."

"Right," Atem echoed.

Whatever had made Atem think that things might be different—?

Yuugi was not like him. He had only ever showed interest in girls. Atem knew it, but he just thought—

Twisting things, that was what Atem had done. Twisting things and projecting his own desires onto Yuugi.

Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

The image of Yuugi licking the salt off Atem's skin flashed through his head, painful in its recent clarity. Atem could still feel the stickiness of melted salt on his skin.

Just fun and games. Nothing more.

Not gay. Simple as that.

"Are you okay?" Yuugi said, leaning closer.

Instinctively, Atem drew back, avoiding the proximity he had chased earlier. "Yeah. It's just, uh—"

"If it's becoming too much for you, we can go someplace quieter."

"It's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

All the sensuality was ripped from the thrumming of the music. Now it was nothing but a meaningless beat to Atem's ears, there only to remind him of what it had been like a while ago: floating in that sea of bliss, unaware of the simple truth that sobered up everything.

Jounouchi and Seto emerged from the crowd, breathless and laughing; Jounouchi was holding Kaiba's hand, pulling him towards the table. "Hey guys! Oh, water! Neat!" Jounouchi filled a glass and took a hearty swig. "Having fun?"

"Sure!" Yuugi grinned.

Atem said nothing.

Kaiba's face was tinged with a flush of pink Atem did not remember seeing before on him; something about him was looser, less guarded. He noticed the way Kaiba looked at Jounouchi, and it only made the bitterness sharper in Atem's gut.

He was happy about them, of course—about whatever it was that was going on between Jounouchi and Kaiba. But he couldn't deny the dark jealousy it sparked.

Atem reached for the tequila and poured a shot. He didn't bother with the salt and lime, wishing only for the shock of the alcohol to take away some of the edge of his bitterness. It didn't do much.

Part of him wished he could just go back to the way things were fifteen minutes earlier, and part of him cringed away with terror at the thought. He had been so close to making a grave mistake, running the risk of scaring Yuugi away. Atem didn't know what divine grace had kept him from crossing the line he had been skating so close to, but he was grateful for it. He wouldn't have wanted to see Yuugi's awkward, dismissing laugh being directed to him, or watch him find the gentlest way to turn him down, as if it would hurt any less. Or—worse still—he wouldn't have wanted to see disgust under Yuugi's startled gaze, or feel him jerk away from him in horror, or—

The scenarios were endless, one worse than the other. Atem downed another shot of tequila, stunned by the horror of what he had almost done.

Stupid, he kept hissing to himself. Selfish, stupid, idiot—

"Dude!" Jounouchi laughed, grabbing the bottle of tequila out of Atem's hand. "Take it easy!"

Kaiba filled a glass with water and pushed it towards Atem. Atem didn't know if he imagined it, but he thought Kaiba examined his face with something like concerned curiosity. Atem drank the water, avoiding his gaze, hoping none of his true emotions were showing.

Kaiba turned back to the rest of the group. "How about we go find something to eat?"

Yuugi deflated in disappointment. "Already?"

Kaiba cast Atem another glance. "Yeah. I think I had enough of loud music for tonight."

Atem wasn't sure what prompted his certainty, but he knew Kaiba was lying. Something about the calculating looks he gave Atem made him think Kaiba had figured out more than he let show. Deep down, Atem was grateful. He needed to get away from this place, with its tempting rhythms and the possibility of Yuugi dragging him back to the dancefloor.

He followed them out of the bar in a daze. Climbing down the metal staircase proved to be harder than expected, and Atem gripped the railing hard, trying not to throw up with the way the steps were swimming.

They paused outside an all-night convenience store, and Kaiba pushed a bottle of water in Atem's arms, ordering him to drink. He gave Yuugi one, too; Yuugi accepted it with a giggle, but he obeyed, drinking hungrily.

The walk in the cold and quiet of night-time Domino helped bring Atem somewhat back to his senses. They shuffled in a tiny restaurant, and Jounouchi ordered extra large portions of ramen for all. More water for Atem and Yuugi. Atem listened to them chat as he ate, barely paying attention to anything that was being said. He didn't feel like talking. Didn't feel like doing anything much, except wallow in horror and disappointment.

The food and water did the trick, though. By the time they bid Jounouchi and Kaiba goodnight and went back to Yuugi's place, Atem was feeling significantly more sober; still tipsy, and he still couldn't quite walk in a straight line, but he was having much more control of everything, his emotions included.

Or so he thought. It all got thrown into question once he stepped after Yuugi in the apartment and Yuugi's fingers wrapped gently around Atem's wrist, stopping him before he could walk away.

"Hey." Yuugi's voice was soft; it came as a surprise after all the loud noises and the shouting of the evening.

Atem stopped, feeling the telltale spark of heat igniting his insides at Yuugi's touch. He took a deep breath, heavy with want and defeat, and tried to meet Yuugi's gaze with steadiness.

Yuugi's eyes were still bright with all the fun of the evening, and the smile was not entirely gone from his lips. Still, there were the wisps of concern in his gaze. "You okay?" he asked, in that intimately quiet voice.

Atem almost crumbled under that look and the way Yuugi's voice sounded. More than anything, he wished to say No, admit to everything, just lay it all out for Yuugi in the open, just so he wouldn't have to suffer the ache of keeping it inside anymore.

He couldn't ruin Yuugi's night of celebration like that. He wasn't that selfish.

He tried to smile. "Yes, aibou."

Yuugi's fingers tightened around his wrist, and Atem wondered if Yuugi could feel the way his pulse stuttered. He swallowed around a dry throat and waited.

Yuugi examined his face. There was infinite tenderness in that gaze, and something else, even gentler. With a small smile, Yuugi raised his hand and brushed a blonde tuft of hair of Atem's eyes, the gesture as light as the touch of wind.

Atem's pulse rose up to his throat, loud and fast, but he didn't move. He stood still as Yuugi's hand stayed hovering by his temple, fingers still gently tangled in Atem's hair. He couldn't tell what Yuugi was thinking, what this was about. He saw Yuugi's chest rise in a deep breath, saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, as if he were preparing for something. If Atem didn't know any better, he might have expected Yuugi to lean in and kiss him. Electric currents fired off in every neuron in Atem's body at the thought, and he heard his breath catch in his throat, even as the logical part of himself reminded him that a kiss wouldn't be a possibility.

Yuugi's eyes examined every inch of Atem's face, and something about the way his chest rose and fell and the way his eyes had turned darker, more black than violet, made the air between them heavier, sizzling with something of the current that had arced between them as they moved on the dancefloor. Atem could feel his body reacting, his own breathing growing deeper. He still didn't move. He was too afraid of ruining whatever this moment was.

Yuugi swallowed again and licked his lips; Atem's gaze followed his tongue's pink flash and the wetness it left on thin lips, and was nearly overcome with the need to close those few inches that separated them and catch that glimmering moisture between his own lips.

Just as Atem stood hovering on the precipice of moving, ready to take that step off the edge, Yuugi smiled his usual friendly smile and the bubble around Atem burst violently. Yuugi brushed the tuft behind Atem's ear with a more matter-of-fact attitude and withdrew his hand. "Sleep well," he said, taking a step towards his bedroom.

Atem blinked, whiplashed by the sudden change in mood and proximity and—everything. He could feel his body scream at Yuugi not to go, while his breath stuttered to find its regular rhythm. He didn't know what to reply; his brain felt thick around his confusion and the darker fog of arousal. "Y—You too," he stammered.

Yuugi paused only to give him another sweet smile, and then was gone, closing his bedroom door behind him with a soft click.

Atem leaned against the kitchen counter, nearly collapsing on it. His heart was racing as if he had run a mile, or dueled in some sort of card game finals where the entire world's fate was at stake. He didn't have the faintest idea what had just happened. All he knew was that suddenly, his mind was thrown back to the state it'd been when the bar's heavy beat rippled in his blood and he'd licked salt off of Yuugi's skin, or gripped his thin hips on the dancefloor and moved against them.

He staggered to his room, not even bothering to take his makeup off, and closed the door behind him: he normally slept with the door half-open, but he couldn't do that now. Not tonight. Distantly he noticed that Yuugi had closed his bedroom door, too, which was uncommon, but Atem was grateful for it. The more barriers that rose between them, the better; he didn't know if he could trust himself with anything else tonight.

As he lay on his bed, still half-dizzy from the alcohol, the events of the night crushed on him with renewed intensity: Yuugi's tongue running across Atem's hand, his breath hot against his ear, his hands skimming under Atem's t-shirt as they danced. He wondered what would have happened if he had led Yuugi away from the dancefloor at that moment; if it had been them that crashed through the doors of the bathroom, limbs tangled, kissing each other as if their lives depended on it. He had to bite back the moan that rose to his mouth at the thought, his arousal reaching painful levels, and he barely had to touch himself to reach a climax. He lay there afterwards, panting into his pillow so that he wouldn't be heard, feeling more lost and clueless than he'd ever felt in all his life.

The late morning sun, cold and merciless, shone through the window. Yuugi sat up on his bed, rubbing his eyes and his temples, trying to shield himself from the worst of the glare. His leather pants lay on a heap on the floor, but he was still wearing the purple shirt and the harness. Last night he'd been too tipsy and euphoric to take them off. He set off to undo the harness's buckles now, with fingers that felt numb and groggy. He had an awful taste in his mouth and he was in dire need of a shower.

But wow, had it been worth it. Last night was one of the best nights of his life. It was everything he could have ever hoped for: him, free of everything, having fun with his friends—including Atem. Atem; the miracle in his life. Gods, he had been amazing last night. He probably hadn't noticed, but several people in the bar had been giving Atem appreciative looks all night long.

Honestly, Yuugi would have expected them all to line up for a chance to hit on Atem. They probably didn't because they saw him with Yuugi all night long—which, okay, Yuugi could understand how one might be confused, and he wasn't altogether mad about it. He preferred it that way: it meant he had Atem all night for himself, instead of sharing his attention with strangers. Yuugi had spent so many years without him, he couldn't get enough of him now. It was natural.

Maybe that was why Yuugi had kept his hands on Atem while on the dancefloor: to signal to everyone else that Atem was his, at least for that night. He wasn't proud of his selfishness, but he wasn't ashamed of it, either. And he knew Atem had enjoyed it, too. Yuugi had felt his muscles rippling with tremors under his touch, fine hairs standing on end. And that look on his face. Yuugi had never seen Atem like that; half-lidded as he moved, undone, the stone armor of the king shattered—at least for a little while.

Yuugi would love to witness that again. Maybe they should go out for drinks and dancing more often.

He'd caught another glimpse of that Atem afterwards, when they returned to the apartment. Yuugi had wanted to ask Atem if he had had fun, if it hadn't been too much for him after all—too loud, too crowded, too new—to thank him for being there and other stupid, emotional stuff—but then Atem had turned around, looking so... open, and vulnerable, so utterly surrendered to Yuugi's touch, that all words had died in Yuugi's throat. It was rare, getting to see the man underneath the face of the king. Yuugi had wanted to savor it.

Atem still remained, in some aspects, a mystery. There were times that Yuugi had no idea what went on behind those crimson eyes. It made those unguarded moments all the more precious: something to be treasured.

To have Atem melt so utterly in front of him had brought a fluttering thrill to Yuugi's belly. Which... Okay. It had probably been the alcohol playing games with his body. It had made him much less reserved; that had been why he'd dared lick the salt off Atem's hand, and the electric thrill that had ran down his spine was probably because he got to feel the marvel of Atem's flesh like that for the first time: another proof that he was alive, with hot skin and a pulse that had beat in a frenzy under Yuugi's fingers. Oh, it had been glorious. That, and then having Atem lick a trail up Yuugi's forearm, up to the ticklish skin around the crook of his elbow—

Yuugi felt blood rush between his legs and the telltale beginnings of a hard-on. Well. It was natural. Tongues had been involved, and licking skin, and dancing, and Yuugi was not a child—it was natural that his body would react that way. It didn't mean anything.

He was not gay, after all. And he didn't have feelings like that for Atem.

The fact that he'd been horny as fuck last night, and that Atem had been slipping in and out of his head while Yuugi lay in bed, grinding himself in his hand—it had probably been just the alcohol, and the proximity of the whole evening, and the thing with Atem's tongue on his arm—gods; he was getting hard just thinking about it now, which was beyond ridiculous. He was not gay. And Atem was his best friend. And he had also probably been more than a little drunk last night too, and such things tended to happen, sometimes, when people got drunk. It didn't mean anything.

He needed a shower. And then some breakfast, and the after-effects of the previous night would be certainly gone, and he would be his logical self again.

Yup. He needed a shower. And to change his bed-sheets.

The shower didn't help Atem much, but at least it got off the stale sweat and the remnants of alcohol that had still clung to his skin from the previous night. He had hoped that, by washing those away, he'd wash every impure feeling, too, but alas, he hadn't really believed such a thing would happen. At least it had given him some time alone with his thoughts before Yuugi woke up—and before Atem would inevitably have to stomp down every feeling and act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He could not afford to skim so close to the line again. Preferably ever.

The thought of what could have happened last night was terrifying. In some aspects, Atem had been lucky: lucky that some other guy had made a move on Yuugi first, taking the fall instead of Atem.

Atem, his hair still dripping, wrapped a towel around his bony hips and got ready to leave the bathroom. When he opened the door he nearly jumped, startled. Yuugi was standing outside, a bundle on clothes in his hands, and—sweet Isis—he was wearing nothing but last night's purple shirt and his underwear. Yuugi seemed just as startled to see Atem there, nearly dropping the bundle of clothes he was holding.

"Oh—Atem—good morning—um..." Yuugi moved the bundle of clothes over his general crotch area, as if trying to hide his boxers. "I didn't realize you were in there."

"Morning, aibou. I, uh—I just finished, so..." Atem gestured towards the bathroom, as if to say, All yours. Yuugi's gaze skimmed down Atem's torso to his towel-clad hips, then quickly away. Too quickly.

"Sorry—I can give you some more time if you want—"

"No, it's okay—"

"I mean, I don't mind—"

"It's fine, aibou, I'm done."

"Okay. Um." Yuugi tried to squeeze past Atem, but it was awkward, holding his clothes in front of him as he was, and he was looking everywhere but Atem, which—fine, good, Atem was also very much trying not to look at Yuugi, and not to brush against him as he slipped past.

When, finally, Atem was out of the bathroom and Yuugi was in it, Atem tried to sound casual and said, "Have a good, uh—shower." After the words left his mouth, it struck him what a stupid thing that was to say. To anyone. Ever. Especially to Yuugi. Ugh.

"Thanks," Yuugi breathed. "You too." Immediately he made an embarrassed grimace. "I mean—no, you just had a shower. Um. Stupid. Yeah."

There was a beat of awkward, too-charged silence, until Atem looked away and said, "I'll... get dressed and get started on the coffee."

Yuugi nodded, evidently relieved. "Good idea. Uh—see you in a bit."

The cage was as brutal as ever. Bakura had earned a bruised cheekbone, a split lip, a couple of ribs that hurt every time he inhaled, and a win. Of course he had won. The crowd had gone crazy, chanting Diabound for minutes after the match was over.

It didn't matter. He didn't care. As he left the underground hall, he didn't see the tens of faces that kept trying to get in his line of sight and talk to him, nor the countless hands that patted him in the back. He only saw Ryou; Ryou laughing at Mutou's balcony, with that quiet, conspiratorial laugh; Ryou resting his head against the couch, pouting down at Spellbook pages; Ryou closing his eyes as he breathed out smoke; Ryou with his nose pink from the cold, hurrying along Domino's streets with Bakura.

"My god, you're infatuated," Rin told him later, as they sat in Yuki's room, drinking cheap beer out of cans.

Bakura did not reply. The statement was too ridiculous to warrant a reply. He was a three-thousand-year-old thief that had been merged with the fucking Lord of Darkness for most of that time. Guys like him did not get infatuated. He wasn't even sure he knew how one fell in love, or what love even was. Wasn't sure if it even existed or if it was a millennia-spanning fairytale.

The only thing he knew was that there was a new feeling lodged deep in a corner between his ribs. A sort of terror. Or maybe despair.

He wasn't afraid of dying. He wanted it. It was the one thing he had strived for all this time. And that was why he couldn't explain that fucking tightness in his lungs every time he thought about it.

The Spellbook sessions were going well. Too well, even—Bakura might say. Ryou was... well, friendly was not the word, but he definitely was mellower. Maybe it was the fact that he was getting a bit more sleep these days, or that he didn't have to spend half of his day at work, or worry about having enough time to study, or—yeah, something along those lines. And, honestly, Bakura was glad, and maybe a little proud of himself.

Evenings at Ryou's were mostly quiet, filled with soft music, the swoosh of paper, the scratching of Ryou's pencil and the sizzling of cigarettes. The Spellbook pages were making more sense with each day that passed; the symbols no longer felt like a tangled maze, but rather like ribbons flowing in a sort of dance. Tracing their path came so naturally that Bakura wondered why they'd had so much trouble with them before. And Ryou. Ryou; his voice, soft, as if he didn't want to disturb the haze of his cigarette or the pattering of the rain outside, pointing out this thing and that on a page; his thoughtful hums; the infinite grace of his fingers as he picked up a pencil, or clicked a lighter, or picked up a steaming mug.

Bakura lost himself for hours in the landscape of Ryou's living room, with the infinite mounds of books and ever-growing piles of notes, the cramped bookcases, the fading posters or the walls, the makeshift ashtrays; Ryou's knick-knacks spread all-over, cd cases laying open, notebooks with half or all or none of their pages torn out of them; the whisper of violins coming through a speaker somewhere, and Ryou saying, low, reverently, "Hey, look at that. I think I got something."

The Spellbook was a puzzle they were working on together, and piece by piece, shape by shape, symbol by symbol, a hidden picture was emerging. Night after night, until a week went by like this. Ryou called his workplace again; said something about his foot not being sprained, after all, but fractured, and that he would have to take more time off, oops, so sorry, such a shame.

Even the meeting at Mutou's were not as bad anymore. It helped that Bakura knew that he no longer had to worry about doing any actual Spellbook work in front of the pharaoh, and that Ryou was more than capable of convincing the others that he was, in fact, doing actual Spellbook work in front of them.

There was an odd sort of pride in realizing that Bakura could count on Ryou for everything. Even the toughest thing seemed easy for Ryou. He could spin a lie like no other, answer every question, worm his way out of every corner. By Anubis, he was cunning. Bakura could take lessons.

If only he could have had him by his side back when he was a simple thief, roaming the streets of Egypt... There would have been no tomb they could not open, no palace they couldn't sneak their way into, no guard or thug or king that could outsmart them. If only...

If only. If only Bakura had realized this sooner. If he hadn't treated Ryou as a vessel, but as an equal; if he'd discerned Ryou's brightness for what it was, Ryou's capability, Ryou's natural inclination towards excellence. If only they'd been partners.

Maybe history would have written itself differently then. Maybe Bakura would have won, and the pharaoh would have been defeated. Maybe Zorc would have ruled this world and the next; maybe darkness would have covered everything. Maybe Bakura would have managed to detach himself from Zorc, or maybe he wouldn't, and he'd lose every last remaining trace of himself. Or maybe he would be left to roam this world's scorched streets for eternity, seeing nothing but the infinite darkness and hearing nothing but the wind howling among the rubble. Maybe he would have condemned Ryou into roaming this wasteland with him, or maybe not—and he wasn't sure which option was worse.

But maybe Ryou had already seen all of this, bright as he was. Maybe he had known that walking by Bakura's side would have meant ruling over a wasteland. Maybe he had been right to fight him all along.

Bakura realized it now, with a sort of unexpected relief: Ryou had done the right thing. He had known right away that there would be no peace to be found on razed ground. Thank the gods. He had known.

"You're sort of melancholic tonight," Malik told him later that night, leaning over the bar counter and invading Bakura's line of sight.

Bakura turned away, his gaze getting lost among the crowd in the Crow. "Yeah, well." The bar was nearly full tonight, and louder than usual, as Saturdays tended to be. Which was fine by Bakura. It meant that no one would pay any attention to him. Except for Malik, of course.

Bakura nursed his drink, perfectly aware that Malik was still looking at him.

After about a minute of silence, Bakura said, "Have you ever thought about how..." He trailed off. Took a sip of vodka.

"Thought about what?" Malik said.

Bakura huffed. "How it's for the best that we didn't win." He knew he needn't explain more.

Malik smiled; a smile with no joy and full of the weight of guilt. "All the damn time." He picked up a bottle of whiskey to pour himself a couple of sips. "Cheers."

Bakura lifted his glass and clinked it to Malik's. "To failed plans, I guess."

"May they ever fail."

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