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 03---

All was silent in the Kaiba Mansion, the deserted darkness resting within the long hallways and abundant rooms like something living. It breathed, swallowing the courage of any stranger who dared to challenge its depths. Lost within the folds of this silence Seto moved with quiet steps, holding close to him his most precious of burdens. Wrapped within the knitted afghan of the den's sofa, Mokuba lay sleeping in the safety of Seto's arms. He held the raven- haired youth close as he scaled the many steps that would lead the pair upstairs.

Seto huffed softly as he reached the top stair, turning without pause down the hallway that led to his little brother's room. It was hard to believe that the younger man in his arms was not still the 12 year old of years ago. Despite the gain in height, he still seemed to weigh so little. Carrying him upstairs was not even a significant aerobics warm up. Even more convincing was the innocent appearance of the sleeping child against his chest. Stepping inside the teen's room, Seto paused beside the bed. Mokuba's face was lax, tensionless as he rested. No lines creased his forehead. Rose-tinted lips were parted just enough to allow breath to escape or enter, blowing warmth through Seto's sleeve. Seto smiled softly, forcing himself to move.

Somehow he managed to juggle the sleeping Mokuba and the task of turning down the made bed that waited for the child. Mokuba was soon safely tucked in, his sleep miraculously undisturbed. But then, Mokuba had always been that way with Seto. He would continue to sleep peacefully if the only one near was the person he trusted the most.

In the silence Seto waited, watching the sleeping cherub breathe. In the clutches of some unseen dream, Mokuba had begun to stir. He lay on his back, hair spread across his pillow as his eyes moved beneath closed lids. Seto's insides seemed to match the nervous motion, fluttering softly, anxiously. Was it some nightmare, or perhaps some fantasy, that now ruled his brother's world? Did he dream of dreams, or of memories that should not be?

Guilt, somewhat misplaced, sank into Seto. The idea of his precious young brother having disturbed dreams because of him was overpowering. The darkness offered no protection for Seto when blame held him in its sight.

Slowly, as if in permanent hesitation, the brunette sank to one knee beside Mokuba's blanketed form. His palm brushed feathery black strands from the teen's forehead. The flesh was warm, inviting. Seto wetted chapped lips, leaning forward. In a chaste, unseen motion, he pressed cool lips to the creased forehead of his little brother. Tender fingers brushed through raven hair, stroking the skin beneath. He did not relent until those small, worried folds smoothed away. A smile brushed against soft skin before Seto pulled back just slightly. The expression beneath him had relaxed, closed eyelids still and beautiful above long eyelashes. Impulsively, he pressed close again, touching his lips to the corner of one closed eyelid.

He left the boy alone then, ducking quietly back into the cavernous hallway and pulling the door closed behind him. The darkness shifted, breathing him in.

He had no trouble navigating through the halls. This place held no secrets from him, be it in construction or memories. Every corner and detail of this mansion was too deeply engraved into Seto's mind. It gave him the advantage of paying little attention to where he was walking as he let his mind wander.

Emotional perception had never been the CEO's specialty, especially when it came to his own feelings. Yet, he knew that what he'd been feeling recently was unusual. It could not be properly described from any one view; no words seemed to work. It was driving him crazy, and he was afraid that it just might if it wasn't settled soon. To have such strong feelings toward another human being was odd enough for the frigid businessman, but that strangeness became further twisted once the object of affection was pointed out. To feel as a father toward Mokuba had always seemed so natural. Gozaburou was no good at it from scratch and during the orphanage days Seto was all the boy had. Conversely, Mokuba was all he had had. Brotherly affection was, of course, even more natural. The incredible want to protect Mokuba from harm engulfed his every thought. Everything Seto had accomplished that meant anything had been motivated somehow by Mokuba. That promise made between children was still in affect, despite the years that sat upon it. These forms of love were normal, if not a bit obsessive.

At what time did those feelings change, distort and grow? Mokuba became the epicenter of Seto's existence. Every movement he made was under watch. Every friend was an enemy in some way. Who would be the next threat on Mokuba's life? Who would dare to take away their time together? `Quality time' became an addiction, a compulsive need. Mokuba must be safe. He must be near. Special beyond measure, more precious than any life; this was how Seto saw his little brother. No more, and no less; Mokuba had to be near.

This feeling had grown out of hand.

Seto ran his hand over his face, roughly pushing back dark bangs. Entering his room, he paused, staring wearily at the digital clock on his bedside table. Close to 4:00 a.m. Sleep was pointless now, and he knew it would not come this night even if he tried. Now he just needed to keep himself busy until 5:30 or so when he could get ready to return to work.

He closed the door, swiftly locking it. A bath seemed the most reasonable way to start off with. Seto stripped as he made his way toward his joint shower room. The bathroom was overly cool, just as his room. He kneeled, starting the water for a bath, ignoring the soft gooseflesh that rose over his bare skin. For a long moment, he simply stared into the rushing water, letting his fingers dangle under the faucet. His reflection in the rising water fluctuated and changed eagerly, twisting his features beyond recognition. Forbidding thoughts invaded his mind, with all the stealth of sin. Sapphire orbs focused away from the water and to the far wall.

A single, full-length mirror sat harmlessly in the corner. From his current angle, it was impossible for the brunette to make use of the glass. He stood, his chest tightening terribly as he approached the object. This was why he wasn't fond of time spent in the shower. There was too much time to think, too much to remember…and every time, he could not help but look.

The scars were old now, but no less fierce when under scrutiny. At first, he simply looked; he studied the scattered white and pale red stripes engraved upon his chest, his shoulders, his upper arms, down over his hips and upper legs. Most were small, but here and there could be seen larger marks that must have once been serious. His forearms and below the knees were relatively unmarked. He rubbed his left wrist habitually, tracing a barely there ring of lighter skin; the result of friction burns. The other wrist and both ankles were the same.

Every time, he couldn't help but touch, that was the next step. His fingers traced the larger scars, recalling how each was made. It took only moments. Although the wounds were old, the memories were very fresh. This wouldn't do. He dragged his nails across the crisscrossed flesh of his stomach, watching as the small red lines appeared, only to fade shortly after. If only the others would leave so easily. He backed up from the mirror, remembering he had to check the water level now. He refused to even glimpse his back.

"Haah…" the water was hot, perhaps a little too hot. He shouldn't have walked off from it for so long. He eased himself in anyway, closing his eyes as his skin tingled angrily for being placed into such a temperature. But it felt good once he was settled. Almost as good as a few hours of deep slumber. Up to his shoulders in the sleep substitution, Seto forced tired muscles to relax as they absorbed the heat. Now, all he had to do was rest…until he became bored, or his thoughts drove him from inaction. Seto studied the ceiling for a brief moment before deciding it was not sufficient enough to hold his interest, closing his eyes instead. If luck would permit it, he would doze for just a little while.

Alone in his darkened room, Mokuba turned onto his side. His eyes creased open, staring at the red light of his digital clock. He knew he was in his bed, and he knew how he came to be there, but those things were not on his mind. The knowledge that something would soon go wrong beckoned to Mokuba, taunting his tired mind. `But how soon?' he wandered. Sleep suddenly seemed very far away. He didn't want to sleep alone.

"Nii-sama…." He squeezed his eyes shut, curling suddenly cold legs closer to his chest, tugging the covers up against his chin.