Souvenir

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'Ko

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

Slowly Fades

“This really isn’t a good time, Seto.”

With those seven words, and that tone of voice, Mrs. Ishtar told me everything that I’d suspected, but didn’t really want to know.

She said a lot more when I called Wednesday morning, giving me some random explanation of why I couldn’t come, but I completely understood her real message.

They never wanted me; only Mokuba. That’s why they left me here.

All the love that they have to give is reserved for their twins and my brother, who’s also now their son.

The offers for me to stay with them were only given as an afterthought; an appeasement for Mokuba.

Not that I blame them, really. Why would they want me? It’s not as though I have anything I can contribute to their family. After all I’m just a homeless sex slave who’s never even been to school.

They saw that they could still “save” Mokuba, that’s why they took him. There’s nothing left of me to “save.”

Mokuba can be shown off to their well-educated, upper class friends because of how smart he is, even after having been an “orphan.” He’ll eventually go to high school and college and make them proud, while I’ve never even gotten to junior high.

As for my future, I’ll eventually wind up back on the streets since I have no marketable skills; especially as someone with no official records that doesn't actually exist.

Of course they want to limit my time with Mokuba; limit the negative influence that I would be on him. That’s what good parents do for their children; keep them away from harmful elements.

And what could be more harmful than a daily reminder, in human form, that your father was a child rapist.

“Koizomi!” My boss calls from the doorway of the storeroom “Go help Nyoka on the register! The lunch crowd is overwhelming her again.”

“Yes, sir,” I acknowledge, grateful for the distraction.

Stocking shelves is mindless drudgery, which allows me to think too deeply about my situation. Working the cash register requires much more attention, not only to keep track of the financial transactions, but also to give adequate customer service; which admittedly isn’t my best skill.

I look up and smile politely at the next customer in my line; a 20-something year old blonde in half glasses who’s giving me a less than respectable gaze. It’s the same look that she’s been giving me almost every day for the past three weeks. Maybe I should encourage her; form a relationship of some sort so that I’ll have a place to go when I leave Yami’s house.

He didn’t come back again last night. That’s another two days that he’s been avoiding me. Maybe he’s hoping that I’ll be gone by the time he returns. I’m doing my best to get out of his house, but it’s kind of hard to find a place that will rent to me on such short notice; especially with my paltry wages. Now I know why the others who applied haggled so much over the salary. Maybe if I ask to work more hours, I’ll have a better shot at finding a place.

Automatically, I start scanning the items of the next customer in my line as I mentally plan how to approach my boss.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” a slightly harsh voice accuses.

I look up with a start into the face of my newest customer; Raphael.

“So, how long have you worked here?” he inserts into my stunned silence.

“Um, a few months,” I stammer.

Dealing with Raphael at Yami’s house or when we’re all out together is one thing. Having him show up unexpectedly where I work is another; especially now that I can’t count on Yami to act as a buffer. I hate to admit it, even to myself, but a part of me has always been a little afraid of him.

Watching him head out of the store, I wonder what he’s going to say to Yami about having seen me here. In all honesty, I’m amazed that I’ve never seen him or Yami here before now, considering how close this store is to the Wyndham. Then again, what’s the likelihood that either of them would want or need something that the hotel couldn’t provide?

I’m reaching to give the next customer their receipt when I see Raphael’s attached at the end. Separating the two, I put the proper one into the bag of the scowling salary man that I just finished ringing up.

A glance at the list of items on Raphael’s receipt staggers me.

How did I not see that when I rang him up? They had to have been clearly marked, so how could I have not seen them? Yet, there’s the proof of his purchase in black and white; Trjn Rbd.

I suppose that’s one item that the hotel might not supply.

Another customer comes into my line and I ring them up mechanically while my mind rushes along to explain why Raphael would be buying condoms; Yami.

If I wasn’t sure before...

I swallow my hurt and disappointment and finish the rest of my shift.

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Though my neighbor gives me a ride to the bus for work in the daytime, every evening I have to walk the mile and a half back. It’s not a bad trek and has allowed me time to think about my situation, which I’ve been grateful for and even enjoy to an extent.

At least I enjoyed it before what happened with Yami on Tuesday night. Now, this walk is anything but enjoyable as I try not to dwell on the fact that Yami will probably be putting me out soon. He refused to take any money from me before for rent, but maybe now I can get him to change his mind he will let me stay in the house if I pay him.

No. He won’t; because, just like the Ishtars, he doesn’t want me either.

And neither does Mokuba. I’m sure that he loves me in his own way, but it’s obvious that he’s become part of the Ishtar family now and doesn’t need or want me in his life anymore.

I stop walking for a few moments to choke back the pain of that admission. What’s the point of anything if even Mokuba doesn’t want me?

A car horn reminds me that I’d stopped walking in the middle of the street. Quickly composing myself, I continue to make my way back to Yami’s house, which has once again become my quaint, little blue prison.

Opening the door, I stumble back a step when I see Yami sitting in the front room.

“Seto...” he begins as he stands.

Not a word from him in three days and he tries to approach me so calmly. He’s probably only here because he knows that I’ve figured out his relationship with Raphael.

Turning away, I quickly escape past him and up the stairs. I can’t deal with Yami right now. Not on top of everything that I know. A few days ago I'd have given anything for him to be here, but now...

Shedding my clothes, I head into the shower to wash away the day’s work and calm my mind. When I return to my room and find Yami sitting on the bed, it's not lost on me that the situation is almost exactly like our last meeting.

I feel more than a little exposed standing in front of him in just a towel. A week ago I would almost have welcomed the situation.

“Seto...” he begins again, but I cut him off.

“I’m having a hard time finding a place just now,” I begin, “but if you’ll let me stay here a few more weeks, a month at the most, until I can find a place... I’d pay you rent until then, of course.”

“Find a...Why would you need...? Pay rent...?” his brow knits in confusion as he trails off.

“It’s only fair that I would pay rent, Yami, since I’m just a border in your house. I wouldn't want Raphael to think that I'm using you. I'm sure in his mind he should be the one living with you instead of me anyway.”

“What in the world are you talking about, Seto?” he questions incredulously.

It seems that he wants me to say it outright; admit out loud what I know. Maybe he thinks it will help me to accept it better. Whatever the reason, I suppose I should give him what he wants. As soon as I do, we can get to negotiating how much he will accept for me to stay here. Hopefully, it won’t be so much that I’ll be unable to save enough to move out. I really wouldn’t want to still be living here if Raphael decides to come by with his condoms.

“I’m simply trying to give you and Raphael the freedom to come to your house and use the condoms instead of forcing you to meet at the hotel,” I assert.

The emotions that flit across Yami’s face within the span of a minute are incredible.

Confusion. Shock. Understanding. Acceptance. Amusement. Sadness. Resolve. Determination.

When he locks eyes with mine before he speaks, I’m not sure what to expect.

“I’m sorry, Seto, ” he states evenly.

What is he apologizing for?

“I’m sorry that I hid from you,” he continues. “I’m sorry that I left you emotionally confused when you needed me. I’m sorry for making you think that you have to leave when I told you that you could stay here as long as you wanted. And I’m doubly sorry for not making sure that you understood my relationship with Raphael.”

“I understand your relationship perfectly well,” I retort, confused by his monologue.

“No. You don’t,” he insists, stepping toward me.

I move out of his reach, ignoring the disappointed grimace at my action. It’s best that I keep my distance and a level head, so I can’t let him touch me. It’s bad enough that my serious bargaining position has been reduced by my lack of clothing. I’d change, but then I’d be too close to him.

“Raphael isn’t interested in me like that, Seto,” he sighs, taking a small step toward me. “He’s madly in love with a waitress from that café where we always have lunch.”

“That’s not possible,” I contend. “He’s always around you. And he’s been trying to get me away from you for months! Why would he do that if he didn’t want you for himself?”

“He’s a bit of a ‘mother hen’ when it comes to me,” he chuckles lightly, despite the heavy atmosphere. “He always has been and probably always will be. And after that fiasco of a relationship that I had with Otogi, he got worse!”

“That doesn’t explain why he hates me so much, Yami. Or why you never say anything to him about how he treats me!” I counter.

“You’re right, Seto. I should have said something to him. And I’m sorry about that too. But in all honesty he doesn’t really hate you. He’s simply worried about me. Truthfully, I’ve been ignoring his behavior for years because I was never seriously interested in anyone else and didn’t care if he inadvertently chased them off.”

He steps into my personal space and I find myself unable to move. Despite my misgivings, I can’t help but lean into his hand as it reaches my face grateful for the touch that I’ve craved for the past several days.

“At least not until recently,” he whispers.

“Yami...” I trail off, hoping that I’m not misunderstanding what he’s confessing to me.

“The problem is that you’re so very young, Seto,” he sighs, eyes still firmly fixed on mine. “You’ve had so much to deal with in your life, and I worry that you’re only seeing me as a security blanket, an anchor in a world where you’ve honestly needed one, and not as a man who cares for you.”

“I’m not the ‘scared, broken, little kid’ you seem to think I am, Yami,” I insist, standing a bit straighter.

“Hmm. Maybe not,” he grins, capturing my face in his hands and pulling me down into a tender kiss.