Souvenir

Disclaimer: Just own the words, not the folks.

Away

“I can’t believe she went back to him,” Yami mumbles about the woman on the screen who’s going back to her cheating husband.

As usual, it’s Wednesday night and we’re watching one of his sappy dramas; what’s unusual is how we’re watching it.

Normally, Yami sits on one end of the couch and I sit next to him alternating between a light doze and listening to his running commentary about the show. After yesterday’s events, our position has altered considerably. Though I’m still following my normal routine of listening some but dozing more, tonight I’m doing so from a prone position across Yami’s torso. As his fingers go back to lightly sifting through my hair, I nuzzle my face deeper into his chest.

A door opens and closes as I’m dozing and I imagine that it’s the cheating husband going out again until a loud, angry voice startles me awake.

“What the hell is this, Yami?”

Responding to Raphael’s tone, I move to sit up, but Yami holds me fast.

“We’re watching Garden of Wind like we do every Wednesday,” Yami replies casually, tightening his grip around me.

What is Yami doing? That’s just going to upset Raphael more! I turn to face the larger man, expecting him to start screaming any minute. Instead, he stares at Yami incredulously before cutting his eyes to scowl at me. A moment later, he turns his attention back to Yami who maintains eye contact with an increasingly agitated Raphael while his own face remains calm. I would almost believe he isn’t fazed by the blonde’s stare if it weren’t for the fine tremors I can feel going through the body beneath me.

Long moments later, Raphael turns away with, “I mean it, Yami. I won’t help you this time.”

“Raph, you know it’s not the same. He’s nothing like Otogi,” Yami responds quietly.

“You’re right,” he snarls, glaring at me again. “He’s much worse than Otogi!”

“He’s not!” Yami defends, sitting up and pulling me with him. “What is your problem with Seto anyway?”

“Don’t you remember that he was selling his body on the street when you found him?” Raphael replies. “You don’t know where he’s been or what kind of diseases he could have – ”

“He’s not diseased!” Yami yells, rising.

Abruptly I remember when Yami took me to get checked out a few days after I told him about Gozaboro. I was overwhelmingly relieved when my results came back negative for any sexually transmitted diseases.

Raphael smirks at him, and then, with obvious disdain in his eyes, turns and narrows his eyes in my direction.

“So you’ve already tasted his wares?” He poses to Yami coolly. “How can you be so willfully stupid? Are you that hard up for sex?”

A slight gasp from Yami is followed by a painful grimace.

“But we haven’t – ” I intrude.

“Is that really all you think I care about?” Yami counters over my interruption.

“Hell, I don’t know, Yami!” Raphael snaps back. “What other explanation could there be for you desperately clinging to something you found on the sidewalk?”

“He’s not a ‘thing,’ he’s not diseased and he’s not worse than Otogi!” Yami yells in obvious frustration. “In fact, he’s – ”

Pulling up short in his rant, he turns to me. Even in the face of Raphael’s open hostility, he’s determined to keep my confidences. I’m grateful for his loyalty and support, but having him stand behind me isn’t worth losing his best friend.

“It’s okay, Yami…” I venture, taking his hand. It’s not that I want my secrets revealed to Raphael, but if it will keep them from fighting about me anymore…

Yami responds with a slight shake of his head.

“Why can’t you just trust me?” he sighs, turning back to Raphael, still holding my hand.

There is a moment of stunned silence on Raphael’s part before he snarls, “Secrets at this late date, Yami? Does our friendship mean so little to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Raph,” Yami intones. “It seems that you’re the one making my choice for companionship into an issue of loyalty to you.”

Raphael blinks in surprise before glaring at me and sneering, “He’s going to hurt you, Yami. And I’m not going to stand around to watch you fall or help you pick up the pieces of your life again.”

“You’re wrong,” Yami asserts, staring into his friend’s eyes. “But you should do what you think is best.”

I pull on Yami’s hand and open my mouth to try to convince him to let me tell Raphael the truth about myself, but am cut off by Raphael.

“Yami, you know that I’m just trying to keep you safe!” he yells in obvious exasperation.

“No, you’re trying to control me,” Yami retorts.

“Control you? What the hell? Why would I – ”

“It’s partially my fault,” Yami cuts him off sternly. “Because I let you get away with doing it for much of my life. But we’re not in high school anymore, Raph, or college dorms or culinary school. Seto isn’t Otogi and I’m more than old enough to take care of myself. I don’t need you to tell me how to live my life!”

At the end of Yami’s impassioned statement, Raphael’s face takes on a decidedly somber cast before he turns and heads out of the living room.

“Have it your way, Yami,” he tosses over his shoulder. Moments later we hear the front door slam.

Though Yami’s eyes are hidden from me as he stares after his friend, his clinching of my hand and rigid form tell me all I need to know.

“Yami…” I lightly touch his arm, at a loss of what to do now.

While I’m glad that he defended me so strongly and kept my secrets, I didn’t want to come between him and Raphael. He should have just told Raphael the truth. I would willingly sacrifice my past for a future with Yami.

“How about some pastries, Seto? Those dramas always awaken my sweet tooth.” The joviality in his voice is an obvious sham, but he turns away from me and heads toward the kitchen.

I watch him retreat into his haven, hoping that once he’s calmed some, he’ll want to talk about what just happened.

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It’s been three days and Yami hasn’t said anything about the fight with Raphael.

In fact, he hasn’t said much of anything at all.

Thursday night we came here to the hotel for Yami’s Friday morning shift. He left me sleeping and went in as usual and I went to work a few hours later.

When I got back that evening, he was staring out the French doors, clenching and unclenching his fists. As soon as I got near him, he’d plastered on that forced smile that I’d seen the night before and suggested a quick shower before we went out to eat. He’d stayed subdued throughout dinner and the drives to and from and then made a point about sleeping alone.

Now, as I’m mindlessly stocking shelves, I can’t help but think that this is all my fault. If he had just left me there…

No, I’m glad that he didn’t leave me out on the streets. He saved me; gave me the chance to see Mokuba again, though it’ll probably be the last time for a while.

I pause in my work a moment to pull his latest picture from my wallet. It’s barely been a week since I got his letter with the school picture inside along with a family photo. I smile to myself as I see that he looks even more like our mother with his hair pulled back from his face.

“I’m not cutting my hair until I see you again, Seto!” he’d declared somewhere it the letter, making me hope for a reunion at some point in the near future.

Slipping the picture back into my wallet, I smile to myself at the thought of Mokuba’s hair down to his knees, since it will likely be years before I see him again.

“She’d never allow that,” I whisper to myself, knowing that Mrs. Ishtar would probably cut it herself at that prospect.

At least I’m still able to stay in contact with him, even if he doesn’t really need me for anything anymore.

Returning to the mindless shelving, I’m almost glad when my boss calls me to man the register again. At least until the sight of a large blonde man entering the store causes me to nearly drop a glass jar of something and make a huge mess. It’s not Raphael, but the site of him forces my mind back to where it had escaped earlier.

I have to do something to make Yami feel better. Maybe if I fix things with Raphael…but how? What can I do?

I look up at the sound metal scraping the floor behind me, to find my boss trying to drag a large cot into the storage area. After finishing up with my last customer, I close my register and go help him.

“Thanks, Seto! You’re a lifesaver!” he grunts as we lift the large contraption and haul it into the storage room. With a little extra pushing and shoving, we manage to get it stuffed into a little used corner.

“Sorry for making you help me with that. My daughter brought it back with her from a visit with her mother last year. I still don’t know why she bought it. I think it was a novelty to her since she hadn’t ever seen one and wondered what they were like. Her mother indulges her far too much for my tastes. Well, let’s get back to work,” my boss insists, heading out of the storeroom. Before following his lead I stare a few moments longer at the cot as an idea of how to fix everything between Yami and Raphael begins forming in my head.

I finish my shift and head back to the hotel, expecting to see Yami with that fake smile plastered on his face again.

“Welcome back,” he grins idiotically as I walk in the door. “I thought we could eat in tonight if that’s okay with you. I know you’d rather eat in the restaurant, but…”

At that moment I remember that Raphael is the head chef at the restaurant where Yami works. No wonder he’d been like that last night and why he’s trying to fake his smiles.

“It’s fine if we eat in, Yami,” I reply evenly. “We could even order something from a delivery place if you want.”

At the relief in Yami’s face, I figure that I’ve said the right thing. When I come out from my shower, we order a pizza and cuddle quietly until it arrives.

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“Happy birthday, Seto,” he whispers against my lips.

While our last night at the hotel had been spent kissing and exploring each other like we’ve done many times, I wonder that he’s not tried to take me yet. I’ve enjoyed his touches and kisses and lips all over me tremendously, but…

I open my lips to his fiery morning kiss, hoping that his reluctance to have sex with me has been because I was only 17. The night we’d gotten together, he’d mentioned my age as though it were a problem for him. Maybe now he’ll think of me as more of an adult and his lover and not a fragile little kid.

“Seto,” he moans, pressing his arousal against mine and confirming that there will again be nothing deeper between us than heavy petting.

Wrapping my legs around Yami’s waist, I abandon myself to his ministrations.

After a shared shower to cleanse our sticky and sweaty selves, we head down to the kitchen for a light breakfast.

As we sip tea over our toast and jam, I press the subject of his fight with Raphael again.

“You should call him, Yami,” I suggest.

“And say what, Seto?” he frowns. “I’m not giving you up, so why bother when I know that’s what he wants?”

“He’s your best friend,” I reason. “Are you really never going to speak to him again?”

He looks away instead of responding.

“Yami…” I prod at his silence.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now,” he asserts, emphasizing his point by leaving the kitchen.

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I glance at Yami sitting rigidly at the kitchen table as I gather what I’ll need to make dinner. It’s been a little less than two weeks since Yami’s fight with Raphael and he still hasn’t talked about it other that the morning of my birthday. My two attempts since then to discuss it met once with silence and once with the answer he’d given me before.

Last night after dinner, I tried to bring it up again, but he changed the subject to ‘the new pastry idea he’s working on.’

Or the new pastry idea that he says he’s working on. Since the night of the fight, he hasn’t baked one pastry at home.

“We haven’t had any pastries for a while, Yami,” I mention casually as I make dinner, hoping he’ll hop up energetically like he used to whenever the confectionary treats were mentioned.

“Mmm,” is all the response I get, worrying me further.

Though this isn’t the first time he and Raphael have had a bad fight about me, I think it’s the first time Yami really believes that Raphael isn’t coming back. It shows in his stance, his walk, and in the way his eyes never seem to shine anymore.

At the hotel, he spends most of the time he’s not working staring outside or chatting with me about nonsense, a false smile highlighting his conversations. We’ll have sessions of quenching our desire for one another, but never advance beyond touching and kissing. Afterward, we’ll shower together, sharing a few light kisses, but he doesn’t let me sleep with him in the suite.

When we’re at home, he keeps me close to him, but barely speaks. We touch and taste each other nearly every night, but he insists we shower and sleep separately.

In both places, he’s constantly looking at the phone, even if out of the corner of his eye.

He’s so unhappy and nothing I do is working to make him better. He needs Raphael back in his life, which I’m sure won’t happen as long as I’m around.

Out of the blue, I remember the cot still in the storeroom at work and my earlier thought to make use of it. I’d dismissed the idea before, hoping that I could somehow keep Yami happy without Raphael around. It’s obvious now that I was wrong.

After dinner, I slip off to my room to write out my plan and study it for flaws. As I kiss him goodnight a few hours later, I know by the shadow of pain in his eyes that I’m doing the right thing.

Yami saved me for Mokuba. I can save him for Raphael.

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It’s taken a few days, and some of my savings, but I finally put the plan in motion that I’d come up with while helping my boss move that cot. First, I’d gotten my boss to give me more hours in the store so that I could eventually pay for something on my own. I’d then hinted that my living arrangements were a little shaky and that I would need somewhere to stay for a week or two.

“You’re sure that it’s only for a week?” my boss asks me for the third time this morning.

“Two at the most,” I confirm.

“Alright, then. But you can’t let anyone know you’re staying in here, okay?” he reminds me again.

“I won’t,” I promise.

He nods and steps back out into the store as I arrange the few belongings I’ve taken with me from Yami’s house over the last few days into the corner near the cot. I then place the futon I bought yesterday on top of the cot’s canvas sleep area to be rolled out onto the floor when I begin sleeping here. After my shift tonight, I’ll go looking again for a place to live. Yami will still be at work when I get back, so I’ll pick up dinner for us at the noodle cart down the block and then go to the hotel and wait for him.

As I work in the stock room a few hours later, my mind begins to wander. I’m unsure if the note I’m intending to leave for Yami when I move out is believable. I’d planned to tell him that I’ve gone to visit Mokuba for a while, thinking that it’s the only thing I could say that wouldn’t have him looking for me right away. But as I think about it more, that story’s not likely to work. After all, he knows where I work and how much I make; would he even believe that I could afford a trip to visit Mokuba? And even if he did, what if he called to speak to me and found I wasn’t there? Then Mokuba and Yami would both be upset when they couldn’t find me.

I still think that moving out is the best way to get Raphael back. I know that it will hurt Yami in the beginning, but it will be better for him in the long run. After all he’s done for me I can at least get his best friend back.

“His only friend, really,” I mumble to myself.

Yes, it will be better if I go. It isn’t right for my presence to keep them apart. Maybe I should leave Yami’s house before next week and speed things up a little. I might have to settle for a cheap hotel for a while if my boss doesn’t agree to my moving in a few days early, but it will be worth it if I can make Yami feel better sooner.

Last night with Yami had been…difficult. I could tell that he’d finally wanted to take me, but I knew that it would be one of our last nights together and I didn’t want to hurt him anymore than necessary. Knowing that he’ll soon wake to find me gone, I hadn’t wanted to cause him that additional heartache.

I didn’t want to cause myself any additional heartache either.

Kami, I wanted him! To know that I could have had sex with someone I love at last…

Tearing my mind away from such unpleasant thoughts, I go back to planning how I’m going to help Yami.

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I decide to wait for Raphael after work as I doubt he’ll be back in the store anytime soon. As I don’t know his schedule as well as Yami’s, I miss him the first two days that I wait outside the employee entrance. Since it’s not likely that Raphael will call the house, nor is it likely that Yami will call him, this seems my best course of action if I want to let him know that I’ve left Yami’s house.

“I’m helping my boss do inventory and he’s letting he stay at his house nearby,” I told Yami over coffee two mornings ago.

Deceiving him about my whereabouts had left a bad taste in my mouth, but I had to explain why I wouldn’t be at the hotel the first night and why he wouldn’t need to pick me up the second, and to cover up the fact that I’ve moved into the storeroom at work.

Lost in my thoughts, I nearly miss Raphael when he walks by. I touch his arm lightly from behind and he turns around. Blinking momentarily in the twilight, it takes him a minute to recognize me.

“You!” he spits angrily. “What the hell do you want?”

“It’ll be alright, now,” I offer.

“What will be alright?” he frowns in confusion.

“I’ve left the house so you can be friends with him again. He’s done so much for me that I didn’t want him to be in pain anymore. You’re the only friend he has; I have to get you back for him,” I clarify.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Raphael snorts incredulously.

I start to reply, but then wonder again about my chosen course of action. Telling Raphael about leaving Yami so they could be friends again had made perfect sense when I’d decided what to say to him a few days ago, but now…

Don’t I at least owe Raphael the truth? Hadn’t I wanted Yami to tell him about me that day? Hadn’t I tried finding an opening to tell him myself? Besides, it’s not like he can think any worse of me than he already does.

“My name isn’t Seto Koizomi,” I insert into the awkward silence.

“You expect me to be surprised that you lied about your name?” he snarls.

I open my mouth to tell him the rest of my story and remeber that we are standing near the fairly busy employee entrance of the Wyndham.

“Is there somewhere more private where we can talk?” I glance around, nodding politely to one of the hotel worker’s as they pass by us, glad that Yami won’t be one of them tonight.

“Why?” he presses, glaring at me with distrust. “You think you can trap me with your ‘wares’ as easily as you did Yami?”

His look and tone remind me of that first night at the hotel with Yami. Back when I still lived on the streets; when I still traded my body for a meal and a place to sleep before Yami saved me.

“I don’t do that sort of thing,” Yami had said, glaring at me in the same way that Raphael is now.

I can’t help but shiver in revulsion at the mental image of my former self.

“I’m not...offering myself to you,” I force, briefly looking away at the memories that statement brings. “And Yami and I haven’t...I just want to talk to you.”

“Fine,” he grinds out. “My car is in the garage down the block.”