Thief Collection
folder
Yu-Gi-Oh › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,553
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Yu-Gi-Oh › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
7
Views:
3,553
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or it's characters. Kazuki Takahashi does. And I am not making any profit or money off of this.
Chapter 2: Crazy
Chapter 2: Crazy
The first time Joey called you crazy you ignored him. That word got tossed around pretty causally when it came to your group of friends and the adventures they got themselves into. So when Tea had pulled you to the side to express her worry you had just smiled and assured her you knew what you were doing while trying to hide your irritation.
Tea was only the latest in the long line of your friends (the first real person had actually been Yugi and he was the only one that actually dropped the subject after your answer) that had asked about the rumors and what they had seen. You supposed you should be flattered that they cared enough about you but it was your life, and your choice who you spent it with.
Then Ryou had warned you, with a resolve few saw, he had cornered you only a few blocks from the Kame Shop to have his own say. This was a dangerous game to play; he urged gravely, a fascination that could get you killed. *He* could hurt you so easily and deep down you knew if it ever came to that there was very little you could do to stop him. He was a thief, tomb-robber, murderer and stealer of souls. This was an foolish course to take with someone so precarious.
At best unpredictable and at worse a hell-bent madman. It was a reminder you seen every thing your lover seen Atemu (and his hands would clench so tight the knuckles went white), or the nights you wake alone to find him gone in the middle of the night (he was unable to sleep once again). Maybe you were crazy.
But later that same night you woke to a warmth stretched out by your right side as well as the tug of fingers twisting and fiddling in the ends of your hair. You never figured out how he didn’t wake you when he came in or the fascination he seem to have with your hair at times. “Go back to sleep,” The order was firm, not to be disobeyed, but lazy at the same time as he seemed more focused on when you shifted closer to him for warmth and a half-asleep greeting. “I’m here for the night.” And you realized, as sleep began to tug you back under with the feeling of a familiar constriction around your waist, maybe being crazy wasn’t such a bad thing.
The first time Joey called you crazy you ignored him. That word got tossed around pretty causally when it came to your group of friends and the adventures they got themselves into. So when Tea had pulled you to the side to express her worry you had just smiled and assured her you knew what you were doing while trying to hide your irritation.
Tea was only the latest in the long line of your friends (the first real person had actually been Yugi and he was the only one that actually dropped the subject after your answer) that had asked about the rumors and what they had seen. You supposed you should be flattered that they cared enough about you but it was your life, and your choice who you spent it with.
Then Ryou had warned you, with a resolve few saw, he had cornered you only a few blocks from the Kame Shop to have his own say. This was a dangerous game to play; he urged gravely, a fascination that could get you killed. *He* could hurt you so easily and deep down you knew if it ever came to that there was very little you could do to stop him. He was a thief, tomb-robber, murderer and stealer of souls. This was an foolish course to take with someone so precarious.
At best unpredictable and at worse a hell-bent madman. It was a reminder you seen every thing your lover seen Atemu (and his hands would clench so tight the knuckles went white), or the nights you wake alone to find him gone in the middle of the night (he was unable to sleep once again). Maybe you were crazy.
But later that same night you woke to a warmth stretched out by your right side as well as the tug of fingers twisting and fiddling in the ends of your hair. You never figured out how he didn’t wake you when he came in or the fascination he seem to have with your hair at times. “Go back to sleep,” The order was firm, not to be disobeyed, but lazy at the same time as he seemed more focused on when you shifted closer to him for warmth and a half-asleep greeting. “I’m here for the night.” And you realized, as sleep began to tug you back under with the feeling of a familiar constriction around your waist, maybe being crazy wasn’t such a bad thing.