State of Mind

PAIRING(S): Seto + Mokuba

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS: Grey-san, Corvin-san, Field-san and the Kravans.

SPOILERS: None really, since the plot is most likely more AU than anything else.

SUMMARY: Mokuba is now 15 years old and has grown into a confident young man. In the years since Secrets that Remain Mokuba has become aware of Seto's game and the brothers have become inseparably close. Yet many secrets still remain. As the eve of Mokuba's 16th birthday nears, a new and unusual tension is in the air.
What lies beneath the surface of happy days and silent nights? When the demons of the past will not die, how does one continue to live? "This ephemeral peace will one day shatter and all shall fall away...”

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Yuugiou nor am I making any money from this story. Please give appropriate support toward Yuugiou's mangaka Takahashi Kazuki.

*****WARNINGS: PLEASE NOTE that this story contains direct mention and some description of sexual/mental child abuse between two males. This content is portrayed as a damaging, terrible act of violation toward a child as any type of child abuse is; however, if this subject offends you in ANY way, please do not read.

Contains Yaoi/MalexMale/Homosexual and incestuous situations, mature language, mention of attempted suicide, and various other not nice things.

-Blood.

---Chapter 02---

“Nii-sama?”

The figure before him paused, craning his neck to peer back at the youth. His face consisted of shadows, swirling and scaling across pale skin. Dead eyes burned into Mokuba’s own, relentless and unblinking. The effect was frightening. Mokuba found he could not speak to finish what he had started to say. His right hand rose, as if he meant to reach forward, stopping as the shadowed man turned away. ‘No, don’t go.’ His palm squeezed shut tightly as he watched the figure walk away. ‘Don’t leave me alone…’ His teeth clenched for the barest of moments before his feet left the ground. He sprinted forward through the dense shadows, ‘Don’t disappear…’ “Nii-sama!!” His scream drowned beneath the furious crack of a single gunshot.

Mokuba awoke in cold sweat, his breathing uneven and his eyes wide. A gunshot. Had he really heard that, or was it simply the dream? He shivered as he sat up, the afghan over his shoulders slipping away. The couch beneath him groaned softly at the shift in weight before he froze. Someone was in the other room. His eyes darted to the doorway to the den, listening to the constant shuffle of clothing as its owner moved. A quick glance at the wall clock revealed the time to be 3:11 a.m. All of the servants of the esate were gone for the night since none were allowed to stay in the mansion after 8 p.m. The few night guards—that had not been replaced by security cameras—stayed outside at all times unless there was some emergency. That left only two possibilities: an extremely talented and brave burglar or Seto.

Mokuba forced himself to relax after that dream. There had been no gunshot. Otherwise the atmosphere in the house would not have been so peaceful. Surely the noise he had heard was whomever was in the other room—Seto—shutting the front door as he came inside. It was rational, simple, and the least dangerous answer. Still, as the quiet shuffling approached the arched doorway, Mokuba remained silent. The silhouette that appearded under the archway was approximately 6’ 1’ with short hair and an erect, strong posture. Mokuba shifted on the leather cushions, pulling the afghan back over his shoulders.

The figure paused at the interrupted silence. He instantly flipped on the den lights, staring at the exact point the sound had originated from. The violent intent left Seto’s eyes immediately upon seeing the long black hair sticking up from over the couch’s back. His brows lifted in curiosity as the dark head of hair was covered, followed by a groan.

“Mokuba?”

“The light…” the covered male said with obvious pain. It was too bright to adjust to so quickly.

“Ah…” Seto quickly returned the room to darkness prior to walking the short distance to his brother. He leaned over the back, hands imbedded in the soft cushions. “What are you doing in here, and so late? You have school tomorrow, you should be in bed,” Seto said sternly, staring at the detailed shadow that looked up at him.

“What about you? You still have work in the morning,” he frowned, wondering if his brother could even see it. Seto’s face was still nothing but black and a few highlights to Mokuba’s adjusting gaze. “You said you only had a little left to do.” Because of school, Mokuba was not allowed to work past 1 a.m. Earlier that night, Seto had entered Mokuba’s office, insisting he finish up with what he could and leave immediately. No matter how much Mokuba had argued that Seto should do the same, the stubborn brunette had refused. There were a few more little things that needed to be finished before he could just leave. Mokuba had been scooted out of Kaiba Corp© around 12:55. He had come home and gotten ready for bed, hoping Seto would be home before or soon after he finished.

Instead, here it was after 3 and the man was just getting home. Mokuba should be furious; after all, he had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him. Yet, he could not. Maybe it was how the shadows on Seto’s face reminded him of the figure in his dream. Anxiety gripped his chest and he could not suppress a bit of it. He found himself unable to stare into that black and pale face even a moment longer. He turned his back to his brother to sit properly on the seat, tugging the cover tight around his shoulders.

Surprised by this, Seto did not answer right away. Instead, he skirted around the piece of furniture, easing himself down onto the sofa beside Mokuba so that their shoulders pressed together.

“I did, originally,” he said, his voice quiet. “Something important had not received proper attention, it was pushed aside and, I’m embarrassed to admit, I forgot about it.” His face was troubled, his thoughts lingering on the oversight. Glancing at Mokuba only intensified his expression. He was staring at his hands in his lap, listening to Seto, but obviously uninterested in what was being said. “Is something wrong?” He checked his forehead, lifting up the thick bangs to feel the cool flesh. No fever; he wasn’t sick. He waited a moment to see if his question would be answered. Instead, it was met with another question.

“Nii-sama, are you doing all right?” Dull grey eyes settled upon Seto from beneath long bangs, reflecting what little light resided in the dark room. The neutral question that could have meant anything at all struck Seto bone-deep. He suppressed a shiver, listening to the unresolved emotions in the simple words. A slightly strained smile spread over his lips as he stared at his brother. His eyes grew soft. In a gentle motion, Seto coaxed Mokuba to lie against his side, lifting his left arm over the smaller shoulders. Mokuba readily followed the gesture, wrapping his slender arms around his brother’s middle.

“I am feeling much…better, yes.” His fingers played with the youth’s hair, stroking the top of Mokuba’s head gently. “I no longer play my game…” he offered quietly, “That helps.” The conversation was awkward for the brunette. He was not sure if he was telling the truth as he spoke, or if it simply sounded good. He did not wish to talk to Mokuba about problems the youth should never have discovered in the first place. But he had found out, about part of it. Mokuba had seen it. The gun and the suicide game, these were no longer a secret from his younger brother. Slender arms tightened around Seto, causing him to look down. He smiled. “It’s all right, Mokuba. I feel better now that you know,” he all but lied. It killed him inside, worse than his memories that were responsible for his actions, that Mokuba had seen him so weak. A change of subject was needed, and fast, if he meant to keep himself from truly thinking about the implications of this conversation.

“Have you decided where we’re going this year?”

The switch was obvious, but Mokuba did not wish to continue the discussion either. Instead he nodded into Seto’s ribs, “I want to go back to that island. The place we went on my 13th.”

“Are you sure? It can be anywhere, why go back to the same location twice?” The beach had been paradise, to be sure, but why go back when they could go anywhere? Still, it was completely Mokuba’s choice where they vacationed; it was for his birthday, after all.

“I know, but I do not feel like anything exciting this year. I want to relax on a beach with good food and drink, peace and quiet, and you,” Mokuba said, slipping down Seto’s side to rest his arm across his brother’s lap, settling his head upon his own arm. “I want to rest and I want you to do the same. So no more arguments.”

Seto blinked. Who could argue with that?

“Sounds good to me, Mokuba. It shall be done,” he said with a small smile. His hand continued to steadily massage Mokuba’s temple, his mind working on all the arrangements the trip would require. He must call the island’s owner, a business associate of his, and convince him to rent Seto the property again. It would not be so hard, the man was reasonable. Hopefully, he had not already planned his own little trip with his wife. Well, even that could be handled.

“Nii-sama?”

Seto looked down in surprise. He had been sure the youth was asleep. “Hai?”

“Right now…I am happy,” he said, burying his face into Seto’s stomach.

Again, Seto felt surprised, but he could not help the sad smile that touched his lips and found his eyes as he replied, “So am I, otouto.” ‘So am I.’

And for the most part, he felt this was the truth.