Stepping Stones

Warning: Shonen-ai, possibly progressing to yaoi (though that'll be only on affnet~). This is an eventual prideship (SetoxYami) but it starts out as puzzle (YamixYuugi).
Disclaimer: YGO is not mine. I've taken a couple of lines from Loveless as well, which does not belong to me either. I make no money of fanficcing these.
Background: Not all bg info is placed out in the open...but the basic idea is that Mokuba Kaiba is dead (killed by Jounouchi) and that Seto has invited Yami and Yuugi to live with him because they cannot afford payments on their old apartment. Yami and Yuugi are lovers at present.
Dedication: To bahen and Shadow, both of whom know exactly how and when to kick me.

Once I desire something…I cannot undesired it. I cannot even try to resist. I will desire it until I have it. But there is no end. No matter how much I take, I still want.

Brother, there are times when I wonder about you. Times when I worry for you. Days pass when you don't move. Days when you forget to eat, forget to breathe, forget to live. What will it take for you to remember again, Seto? Is there anything I might have done for you? Is there anything anyone can do? Or are you too lost in yourself?

*~*~*~*~*

It had been a week. Or maybe a month. A month and a week. It was a Wednesday again. That was all that really mattered. Wednesday. They would be red forever.

Maybe it was a month and a half.

But it was Wednesday.

Kaiba stared out the window. It was the same one that Yami had once used to spy on him. Not since then, though. Since then, Kaiba had avoided the lawn. A show of weakness. He could not permit weakness. Not from himself. Not from anyone. Or for anyone.

Mokuba…

I'm here for you, Seto. Believe me. I'm here.

Was he going mad? Possibly. There were voices now. Less than voices – feelings. Few things he really felt, but a general sense of knowing. Sadness, weighing heavily on him. Was it normal, this level of mourning?

It had been two months, hadn't it? When would the pain go away? Mental anguish was not comfortable. He did not know how to deal with it. But Mokuba –

Here, brother. I am here.

He missed Mokuba.

Every so often he wondered what had become of the other two. Yami. Yuugi. They had been swallowed by the mansion, he supposed. After his first, last, only encounter face-to-face with Yami, he hadn't seen either of them except in passing. Yami, mostly.

Yuugi… When he saw the delicate copy, strange emotions stirred within. Rage, fear…jealousy. No reason for any of them, but there all the same, fighting for an escape.

He wanted to hurt. To be the cause of hurt. Because if one vanished, everything else…would be fine.

The voices in his head said so.

But he never really listened. Madness was just another enemy to overcome…or ignore.

Just one more in an ever-growing list.

After all, it had been three months already.

Hadn't it?

*~*~*~*

There are times when your lack of regard for yourself worries me. You see only the worst in yourself; do you hate me then, brother? I am you now. You promised to take care of me. I will hold you to your word, Seto. Care for me. Keep me safe. Keep yourself whole. We are one. Even death could not pull us apart.

Quite a bit of time had passed since either Yami or Yuugi had laid eye on Kaiba. The mansion felt deserted. Just the two of them, holed up in their bedroom for the most part. Every so often, Yuugi felt the need to wander through the house. On those rare occasions, Yami accompanied him, keeping close. Always close.

If anything happened to Yuugi…

I'd be lost.

It was not the first time the realization had hit. It was not even the strongest time. But today, it felt different. Before it had seemed a given. If Yuugi were to be affected, of course Yami would be as well.

Why then this, now?

Yuugi is everything. He had had that thought before. Love, life, happiness. Those as well. My reason for existing. A savior…the Keeper.

Keeper of what exactly? The memories came with only bits and pieces. Nothing remained perfectly coherent, much to Yami's distress. It was like trying to bail water from a boat with a sieve. As quickly as he reached for thought, it trickled away. Through…away.

Eventually, as he always did, he abandoned the mental exercise. Too much work. Besides, Yuugi was awake. He could deal with piecemealed memories later.

Yami sat on the edge of the bed. Yuugi's eyes opened slowly. Violet was not a natural color. Yami leaned forward, kissing the smaller male gently. Yuugi purred softly, his arms reaching around Yami in a possessive hug-like clinging hold. He seemed to be saying "mine" without words.

They didn't need words. The dance of their bodies was enough. A tango, perhaps with a hint of foxtrot…a smidgeon of the Polka…perhaps some Latin moves for flavor. They knew the rhythm, knew the pattern. That was the important thing. To know.

Yuugi whimpered softly. Yami rolled off him, onto the bed, onto his back, allowing the purple-eyed male to clamber on top of him, looking down. A smile lit that angelic face. Yami beamed back.

He read love in that violet gaze. Love he needed so desperately right now.

"When you're ready," Yami murmured, his hands migrating to Yuugi's hips, holding the smaller steady. "When you're ready." Because it was about Yuugi. Primal instincts be damned, he was not going to hurt the one person who loved him.

Again.

A whispered voice. Past. Madness.

Even Yuugi's hands, skilled and taunting, could not brush away the chill that went down Yami' spine. Yuugi did not relent however, and slowly the shivering gave way to warmth. His body shook for much different reasons.

But even when he cried out at the end, and curled up around his sleeping lover, the voices echoed.

Hurt him, they whispered. Again.

*~*~*~*~*

We will all eventually disappear. We will vanish into light…or darkness. Or maybe into an odd mix of the two. Vanish into grey. We will all be gone eventually, Seto. While we're here…let's keep from disappearing entirely. Please.

A week. He thought he remembered now. It had been a week. Maybe two. Or three.

The library was empty but for the books. He thumbed through them, taking refined pleasure in the edges that ripped at his finger tips. When he set the one book down to reach for another, less lethal picture book, the shelf was empty.

It had not been empty when he had come in. The war books, instruction manuals on bombs and heavy artillery – they had all been on the shelf beside the picture books. He remembered organizing the shelves. Not in accordance with the delusional Dewey, but with order. Childhood, young adult, adult.

The eight shelves in the very back were empty. Those were for 'old age.' He hadn't reached that stage yet. And, there was no one to tell him what it was like. Gozaburo had never gotten beyond childhood. And Mokuba…

I'm here.

Was gone.

Seto, I'm here.

Vanished.

I'm here!

Into twilight.

He ran a finger down the spine of the book in his hand. Hadn't he set it down? And why was the shelf empty? He could recall filling it. It couldn't be empty then. He was seeing –

Not seeing…things. But that was okay. The voices told him it was simply to be expected. No big deal. Standard occurrence, and all that shit.

The book in his hand stared up at him. A child's picture book. He set it back on the shelf, next to the book on home-made hand grenades…that wasn't there. It fell over.

He never noticed. There were more important things. Something bright had caught his eye a few rows down. Hidden in young-adult, a magazine with a picture on the cover. He pulled it off the shelf. A young, blond male was grinning at the camera. There was no resemblance. The kid probably lived halfway around the world and had never heard of competitive dueling.

Kaiba frowned.

Wednesdays were red.

Blond…made them that way.

A month ago. A year. Two weeks, yes?

Seto –

It clicked, then. A name, a duelist, a duty. Anger and pain blended together. Kaiba grinned at the dueling magazine. The picture of the blond boy on the front wrinkled in his grasp. Kaiba didn't notice. There was something in his hands. He ripped it, dropping the pieces to the floor. By tomorrow, they would have vanished.

The ghosts keeping house did their jobs well.

He began to laugh once he was out of the library's 'quiet zone.' So the ones speaking had been right after all. It was here. The answer.

Kaiba did not have a firm plan in mind. He didn't have a plan. Three and eight-sevenths weeks – that was all. Maybe more, maybe…more.

It was Wednesday.

I hate seeing you like this, brother. Seto, can you feel me? Even if you can't hear me, can you feel me? I hate this, brother. It is painful. I hate pain. I'd pull out my own soul, if it could stop the pain. Except…it's your soul now, isn't it, Seto? And you…would never willingly stop it. Does it comfort you, then, that you live in this agony? Brother, do you begin to long for it? So much a part of who you were – and it can never be your future. No one could hurt you like that again, whether you wanted it or not. You told me once… One who knows pain knows strength. Do you really? Or are you too afraid to admit what pain is? Forgive me, Seto; I love you.