(no subject)
Title: A whisper through the Veil
Genre:drama, angst, sap
Rating: G
Warnings(if any): (implied) character death
Character or pairing: Anzu & Yuugi, friendship
Short summary: The only moment when we are truly honest is when nothing else matters, when death is on our doorstep, and when we have nothing to lose.
Author's note: written as theme # 58 ("When we were young") for yami_no_fics.
-------------------
“What time is it?”
She dutifully looked to her left, at the alarm clock on the nightstand. A pair of glasses and a small jar of lip balm were lying next to the lamp, its light dimmed by the dark shade. She squinted a little. “A quarter past ten.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Evening, Yuugi. It’s a quarter past ten in the evening.”
“Oh.”
She smiled at him, glad that he wasn’t feeling much pain. She never liked it when others were in pain, mentally or physically. Extending her hand, she touched his cheek, her smile growing wider as she saw him opening his eyes again. In all those years, Mutou Yuugi’s eyes had maintained their characteristic wide, friendly and trusting look, that brilliant violet color and the framing black, long lashes. No matter which age, his eyes had always been the same. She couldn’t fathom how different it would be they’d ever change: with different eyes, Yuugi wasn’t simply Yuugi anymore.
“How are you feeling?”
A noncommittal sound was her answer, and she didn’t really expect a coherent one. Too often she had sat next to a bed; too often she had been a witness to a last breath. She’d always been there for the other, as they had been there for her; in life and… beyond. She leaned a little forward, a gray strand of hair slipping past her ear and dangling in front of her face. With a slightly annoyed gesture, she tucked the strand back, keeping an eye on her best friend, who was too tired to keep his eyes open and slowly slid them shut again.
“Anzu…”
“Mmmyes?”
“You should go home… I’ll be fine. You have class very soon…”
Her smile turned into a wry grimace, mentally thanking whatever deity that he didn’t see the expression on her face. It was typical of Yuugi to think of others, and she’d heard him say often that she should go home; he didn’t want to impose on her. It was something else that he was thinking that she still had classes to attend to.
“Yuugi… classes were… dismissed a long time ago.”
“Of course,” he was quick to answer, smiling apologetically, moving his head more towards her, towards the sound of her voice, leaning back in the cool pillow. “Where’s Jounouchi-kun?”
“I’m sure he’ll be here any moment now,” Anzu said, her fingers still resting on his cheek. Yuugi had grown old very gracefully for some reason; he didn’t show half the signs of old age as much as Jounouchi or Honda, or even Kaiba Seto, who finally had to bow to something stronger and more tenacious than him; the laws of nature. Anzu was never jealous of her friends, and never of her best friend in particular, though she’d sometimes felt a slight pang of envy when she’d discover another wrinkle.
“I wonder… I wonder how Atemu would’ve looked like when old,” Yuugi suddenly said, breaking the silence and startling Anzu out of her thoughts.
“Yuugi,” she softly said, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. He hadn’t talked about his other for over fifty years now, not ever mentioning him when they were talking about his duel career and his follow-up career as a writer. After his grandfather’s death, Yuugi didn’t want to attend to the shop, selling it and leaving it to others to expand. He never cared for money or a professional business career that much, and when Duel Monsters ceased to be a craze, he easily made the switch to writing for a living.
“I guess I’ll never know,” Yuugi whispered. “He died young. He’ll never grow old.”
“What makes you think of him right now?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Anzu, it’s getting late. Your husband must be waiting.”
“Yuugi,” she started, but refrained from mentioning that her husband died five years ago. He’d known until a few months ago, until age suddenly started to catch up to him, rendering the once number 1 duelist immobile. Her fingers went to his neck, a gentle, friendly, affectionate touch.
“Yes?”
“Do you... do you regret... some things? When we were young…”
She slapped herself mentally. There was a time she had only looked at his Other, the other Yuugi, Atemu. The young Pharaoh who lived by existence of his vessel, the boy-king who died when sealing himself and the darkness away to save his people and his nation… His hypnotizing crimson red eyes were burned into her memory forever, as well as the moment when he went through the Gate to the Afterlife, returning himself and his soul to the gods for eternal rest. She got over him, as life forced her to go on after his passing. She’d cried for months in silence, not wanting to show her sadness to her friends. Every one knew the influence he had on their very lives, and after a long time she realized that they probably all knew that she had felt more for him. No one really talked about it. Yuugi had stopped talking about him all those years ago.
“I don’t regret a thing,” he said, struggling to pronounce the words. She stood up, her fingers leaving his neck, touch a little lingering.
“I’ll get you some water,” she told him while she moved away from the bed, every move graceful. She had a very rich and renowned dance career to look back to, and she made the switch to teaching the art of dance after her body couldn’t uphold the intense strain and the physical exertion. While she was filling the glass, she looked at her wedding ring, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Her first love hadn’t been able to put this on her finger, the one she knew had loved her respected her too much to put this on her finger as he felt that she didn’t return the same feelings, not on that level. It was a business man who first fell for her looks, then admired her for who she was, who finally slipped the ring, exchanging the vows with her that were only broken by death.
Returning to the bed, Yuugi hadn’t moved nor spoken another word, and for the briefest of moments she thought that he already… until he heaved a very soft, almost inaudible sigh.
“When we were young… I was in love with you.”
Anzu nodded even though he had his eyes closed. She put the glass of water to his lips, tilting it so he could easily sip. “I… I don’t know what to say..”
“It’s okay, Anzu,” he answered, a smile curling his lips. “I know you liked him. I liked him too. I liked him very much. Sometimes there were moments when I thought… that he liked me too. Did I ever tell you that he held my hand when we were finding out about the three dragons we needed in the end to defeat Dartz?”
“That was very sweet of him,” Anzu said, carefully tilting the glass again, making sure he didn’t spill all over himself. She knew she hadn’t stand a chance; not only was love impossible as he had been a spirit, he had been too much focused on Yuugi to even notice her. The Pharaoh, the spirit of the Sennen Puzzle, had passed on, but his… impression lingered on, like a thin veil, a soft glow.
“When we were young… I was not in love with you,” she admitted. “I have never seen you anything but a friend… my best friend, my bestest best friend.”
He laughed, a soft chuckle before dissolving into a cough. “That’s good to hear. You’ve always been my bestest best friend too.”
She leaned forward, almost impishly kissing him on the forehead. “Did I ever thank you for all the time we spend together as friends? You were there to encourage me when I won the scholarship for the performing art school, you were the first to buy a ticket for my every performance, you were at my wedding, you were the second to find out when I was pregnant, you did so much for me… and you...”
He smiled again. “Anzu, please… there’s no reason to feel guilty.”
“You never married, Yuugi,” she said, sadness audible in her voice. “You never had someone to share your life with. I sometimes thought you stayed alone because well.. when we were young, I never..”
“No,” he interrupted her, voice even softer. “No, that had nothing to do with it.”
“Was it him?”
She was met with silence, but she didn’t dare to draw her own conclusion. She wanted to hear it from him. As he remained silent and didn’t give any indication he wanted to have another sip of water, she carefully put the glass away, putting it back on the nightstand. She sat next to his bed, simply being there. Her hands rested on her lap, until she moved her right hand to put over his.
“Mou hitori no boku,” he said, heaving a small sigh and fell silent again.
“What time is it?”
“It’s almost eleven.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Evening, Yuugi.”
She was crying soundlessly. The tear found its way over her cheek, through the cracks of the signs of time marking her face, leaving a wet streak in its trail. Her fingers rested on his hand, and she shivered from a sudden breeze in the room, wondering if she left the window open. A silly thought. She could’ve fooled herself. She could’ve believed that she left the window open, that a breeze would sweep through the room, that the wind carried the word “Aibou”, spoken in a longing manner. She could’ve deluded herself, but the soft smile on Yuugi’s face was unmistakable. She would never have to look at the alarm clock to tell him the time again.
------
Genre:drama, angst, sap
Rating: G
Warnings(if any): (implied) character death
Character or pairing: Anzu & Yuugi, friendship
Short summary: The only moment when we are truly honest is when nothing else matters, when death is on our doorstep, and when we have nothing to lose.
Author's note: written as theme # 58 ("When we were young") for yami_no_fics.
-------------------
“What time is it?”
She dutifully looked to her left, at the alarm clock on the nightstand. A pair of glasses and a small jar of lip balm were lying next to the lamp, its light dimmed by the dark shade. She squinted a little. “A quarter past ten.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Evening, Yuugi. It’s a quarter past ten in the evening.”
“Oh.”
She smiled at him, glad that he wasn’t feeling much pain. She never liked it when others were in pain, mentally or physically. Extending her hand, she touched his cheek, her smile growing wider as she saw him opening his eyes again. In all those years, Mutou Yuugi’s eyes had maintained their characteristic wide, friendly and trusting look, that brilliant violet color and the framing black, long lashes. No matter which age, his eyes had always been the same. She couldn’t fathom how different it would be they’d ever change: with different eyes, Yuugi wasn’t simply Yuugi anymore.
“How are you feeling?”
A noncommittal sound was her answer, and she didn’t really expect a coherent one. Too often she had sat next to a bed; too often she had been a witness to a last breath. She’d always been there for the other, as they had been there for her; in life and… beyond. She leaned a little forward, a gray strand of hair slipping past her ear and dangling in front of her face. With a slightly annoyed gesture, she tucked the strand back, keeping an eye on her best friend, who was too tired to keep his eyes open and slowly slid them shut again.
“Anzu…”
“Mmmyes?”
“You should go home… I’ll be fine. You have class very soon…”
Her smile turned into a wry grimace, mentally thanking whatever deity that he didn’t see the expression on her face. It was typical of Yuugi to think of others, and she’d heard him say often that she should go home; he didn’t want to impose on her. It was something else that he was thinking that she still had classes to attend to.
“Yuugi… classes were… dismissed a long time ago.”
“Of course,” he was quick to answer, smiling apologetically, moving his head more towards her, towards the sound of her voice, leaning back in the cool pillow. “Where’s Jounouchi-kun?”
“I’m sure he’ll be here any moment now,” Anzu said, her fingers still resting on his cheek. Yuugi had grown old very gracefully for some reason; he didn’t show half the signs of old age as much as Jounouchi or Honda, or even Kaiba Seto, who finally had to bow to something stronger and more tenacious than him; the laws of nature. Anzu was never jealous of her friends, and never of her best friend in particular, though she’d sometimes felt a slight pang of envy when she’d discover another wrinkle.
“I wonder… I wonder how Atemu would’ve looked like when old,” Yuugi suddenly said, breaking the silence and startling Anzu out of her thoughts.
“Yuugi,” she softly said, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. He hadn’t talked about his other for over fifty years now, not ever mentioning him when they were talking about his duel career and his follow-up career as a writer. After his grandfather’s death, Yuugi didn’t want to attend to the shop, selling it and leaving it to others to expand. He never cared for money or a professional business career that much, and when Duel Monsters ceased to be a craze, he easily made the switch to writing for a living.
“I guess I’ll never know,” Yuugi whispered. “He died young. He’ll never grow old.”
“What makes you think of him right now?”
“I don’t know,” he sighed. “Anzu, it’s getting late. Your husband must be waiting.”
“Yuugi,” she started, but refrained from mentioning that her husband died five years ago. He’d known until a few months ago, until age suddenly started to catch up to him, rendering the once number 1 duelist immobile. Her fingers went to his neck, a gentle, friendly, affectionate touch.
“Yes?”
“Do you... do you regret... some things? When we were young…”
She slapped herself mentally. There was a time she had only looked at his Other, the other Yuugi, Atemu. The young Pharaoh who lived by existence of his vessel, the boy-king who died when sealing himself and the darkness away to save his people and his nation… His hypnotizing crimson red eyes were burned into her memory forever, as well as the moment when he went through the Gate to the Afterlife, returning himself and his soul to the gods for eternal rest. She got over him, as life forced her to go on after his passing. She’d cried for months in silence, not wanting to show her sadness to her friends. Every one knew the influence he had on their very lives, and after a long time she realized that they probably all knew that she had felt more for him. No one really talked about it. Yuugi had stopped talking about him all those years ago.
“I don’t regret a thing,” he said, struggling to pronounce the words. She stood up, her fingers leaving his neck, touch a little lingering.
“I’ll get you some water,” she told him while she moved away from the bed, every move graceful. She had a very rich and renowned dance career to look back to, and she made the switch to teaching the art of dance after her body couldn’t uphold the intense strain and the physical exertion. While she was filling the glass, she looked at her wedding ring, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Her first love hadn’t been able to put this on her finger, the one she knew had loved her respected her too much to put this on her finger as he felt that she didn’t return the same feelings, not on that level. It was a business man who first fell for her looks, then admired her for who she was, who finally slipped the ring, exchanging the vows with her that were only broken by death.
Returning to the bed, Yuugi hadn’t moved nor spoken another word, and for the briefest of moments she thought that he already… until he heaved a very soft, almost inaudible sigh.
“When we were young… I was in love with you.”
Anzu nodded even though he had his eyes closed. She put the glass of water to his lips, tilting it so he could easily sip. “I… I don’t know what to say..”
“It’s okay, Anzu,” he answered, a smile curling his lips. “I know you liked him. I liked him too. I liked him very much. Sometimes there were moments when I thought… that he liked me too. Did I ever tell you that he held my hand when we were finding out about the three dragons we needed in the end to defeat Dartz?”
“That was very sweet of him,” Anzu said, carefully tilting the glass again, making sure he didn’t spill all over himself. She knew she hadn’t stand a chance; not only was love impossible as he had been a spirit, he had been too much focused on Yuugi to even notice her. The Pharaoh, the spirit of the Sennen Puzzle, had passed on, but his… impression lingered on, like a thin veil, a soft glow.
“When we were young… I was not in love with you,” she admitted. “I have never seen you anything but a friend… my best friend, my bestest best friend.”
He laughed, a soft chuckle before dissolving into a cough. “That’s good to hear. You’ve always been my bestest best friend too.”
She leaned forward, almost impishly kissing him on the forehead. “Did I ever thank you for all the time we spend together as friends? You were there to encourage me when I won the scholarship for the performing art school, you were the first to buy a ticket for my every performance, you were at my wedding, you were the second to find out when I was pregnant, you did so much for me… and you...”
He smiled again. “Anzu, please… there’s no reason to feel guilty.”
“You never married, Yuugi,” she said, sadness audible in her voice. “You never had someone to share your life with. I sometimes thought you stayed alone because well.. when we were young, I never..”
“No,” he interrupted her, voice even softer. “No, that had nothing to do with it.”
“Was it him?”
She was met with silence, but she didn’t dare to draw her own conclusion. She wanted to hear it from him. As he remained silent and didn’t give any indication he wanted to have another sip of water, she carefully put the glass away, putting it back on the nightstand. She sat next to his bed, simply being there. Her hands rested on her lap, until she moved her right hand to put over his.
“Mou hitori no boku,” he said, heaving a small sigh and fell silent again.
“What time is it?”
“It’s almost eleven.”
“Morning or evening?”
“Evening, Yuugi.”
She was crying soundlessly. The tear found its way over her cheek, through the cracks of the signs of time marking her face, leaving a wet streak in its trail. Her fingers rested on his hand, and she shivered from a sudden breeze in the room, wondering if she left the window open. A silly thought. She could’ve fooled herself. She could’ve believed that she left the window open, that a breeze would sweep through the room, that the wind carried the word “Aibou”, spoken in a longing manner. She could’ve deluded herself, but the soft smile on Yuugi’s face was unmistakable. She would never have to look at the alarm clock to tell him the time again.
------