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 06---

Mokuba awoke in a cold sweat. His palms were wet and his fingers trembled. Fear gripped him, making breathing difficult. Something was wrong. `I shouldn't be here,' he thought with panic. `I need to get home; something's wrong.' He shook Yuugi awake a little too harshly, the blonde boy's involuntary yelps waking the others.

"M…Mokuba, what is it?"

"I'm sorry Yuugi, but I have to go home," his eyes were wild as he searched for his bag, feeling even that might take too much time. When everyone looked at him in concern, Mokuba decided not to waste any time. "I think something's wrong with my brother. I don't know why, I just feel…" he paused, "I need to get home, now."

"Why don't you try calling him first?" Jounouchi said as he tried to keep his eyes open.

"Yeah," agreed Yuugi, "That way you can know if something's up quicker than going home." He barely had time to explain this before his younger friend was off his futon and digging through his found overnight bag. Suddenly nimble fingers pressed the speed dial on his cell for his brother's private phone.

After five rings, Mokuba heard his brother's voicemail, suggesting the caller to either retry calling or to leave a message. The recording apologized for any inconvenience, the quality of concern in the voice obviously superficial against Mokuba's ears—due only to years of experience with Seto's tones.

This escalated the youth's anxiety horribly, his quickened heartbeat pounding mercilessly inside his ears. Seto answered every call he ever received unless he was busy with something important that required him to not take a moment's rest. And, of course, only a handful of very important people had the number of Kaiba Seto's private cell phone, so it made the unanswered call even rarer. He attempted once more, biting his lip after 4 rings and hanging up. He rang Seto's office at work, again getting no answer. Maybe Seto had left his phone at work? It was possible, though certainly improbable.

Lastly, the mansion's number was tried, the teen jumping to his feet in grim anticipation for each subsequent ring. On the third ring, Mokuba was already running past his friends to exit Yuugi's room. Ignoring the voices that followed him, he dove into his shoes without missing a beat and rushed out the front door.

For once, Mokuba was glad for the almost unbearable amount of protection Seto showered over his little brother. Just in case of some emergency, Seto had insisted that whenever Mokuba slept at a friend's house, or if he essentially went anywhere, he would have a bodyguard.

Therefore, his personal limousine was always sitting close by, the driver paid to stay awake and watch the house. Mokuba had felt mortified the first time this happened at Yuugi's; everyone felt self-conscious about a pair of eyes watching them. He apologized over and over, explaining that he really had no choice. No matter how much Mokuba protested, Seto proclaimed the matter closed.

Therefore, when the frantic youngest Kaiba came running out of the Mutou residence at 2:30 in the morning in his pajamas, the bodyguard took notice. The limousine emerged instantly from the shadows and closer to Mokuba, stopping as the driver got out ready to open the door for the young master.

"Don't worry about that! I'll get it. Just take me home," Mokuba shouted, "and quickly!" His friends watched him from the house. They eyed each other after he left, wondering just what was going on. Everyone took a stab at it, eventually figuring Mokuba had had a bad dream.

"I don't know…I've never seen him act like that before," Yuugi said with concern. "Maybe he just has a really good connection with his brother. For example, if you guys were in trouble, I'm sure I'd know."

"Yeah," Jounouchi agreed with a smile, "You've done that before." His face fell a little, "I wonder what could be wrong with Kaiba though. I mean, why wouldn't he answer his phone?" No one answered. Their minds worked nervously over all the possibilities of danger someone as rich as Kaiba might encounter.

"Should we have let him go alone?" Honda asked suddenly. Everyone shook their heads, but no offered a suggestion of what to do next.

His hands would not stay still in his lap, wringing the fabric of his pajamas cruelly between his fingers. He felt useless suddenly, his nerves flaring. What would he do if something serious really had happened? Seto was not the type of person to accept help with anything, so Mokuba had little experience in that area. Also, Seto always knew what to do when Mokuba was in trouble, but what could Mokuba do if the positions were switched?

Guilt stuck him as he remembered all those times he had longed for a time that his perfectly capable brother would need him. If Seto was in trouble now, did that wish make it Mokuba's fault?

He shook his head, clenching his hands together. He wouldn't think that way. For all he knew, nothing was wrong. Seto not answering the phone could be a bad coincidence. As for his feeling of dread, he could have simply had a nightmare and his imagination got away from him. Mokuba bit his lip, staring out the tinted window beside him, worried eyes spotting the mansion as it came into view and grew closer. He knew better.

As the car rolled to a near stop, Mokuba dashed out into the night empty-handed. He could get his stuff later. The air outside was warm enough, but there was a cool, whispering breeze that tugged at his hair as if holding him back. He really was letting his imagination go tonight. There was no commotion outside the building and no matter how sinister it could look at night the estate did not seem any less safe than it ever had.

His mind began to settle as he unlocked the front door, stepping inside. His breath was returning to him, even as his confidence did not. He removed one of his shoes, pausing half-way through the second one as ice water drenched his soul. The muffled crack of a gunshot rang out through the suddenly ominous hallways.

His shoe forgotten, Mokuba dashed forward toward the stairs. `A gun! Could someone be after Nii-sama? Just now…did they already…?' he could not finish the gruesome thought.

He jumped three stairs, nearly losing his footing before kicking off the clinging sneaker that had unbalanced him. He reached the hallway at the top too slowly for his liking, sprinting down the long tunnel before him. If there really were people after Seto and they had guns Mokuba was clueless as to what he would do once he got there. He might even get in the way. But he could not just cower out here and wait to see what happened. He would check his brother's room first, and if that was empty then his next choice would be the home office.

That feeling of wrongness was blinding as his trembling hands gripped the cool surface of his brother's door doorknob. He listened for a moment, of course hearing nothing through the thick door. He'd only heard the gunshot because the room was not fully soundproof.

The door was unlocked and as he eased it open he noticed the lights were off. The room was in near complete darkness, just as the rest of the mansion. What little light existed in the hallway allowed the room to bleed into murky view before him, his vision falling upon a moving figure. Mokuba could not remember ever feeling as utterly stunned as he did in those first moments of watching his brother.

He knew it was Seto by the long arms and the thick hair. For a moment, Mokuba could merely stare. He watched as his older brother sat on his knees in the middle of broken glass, leaning forward almost to the floor, bleeding hands pressing close to a darkened face. Bare shoulders were tensed up to the brunette's ears, his body rocking back and forward without rhythm.

Mokuba took a step forward, his mouth working without sound as he pushed the door open further. Unexpectedly, Seto stopped moving. His head turned to the side as he looked at the light on the floor around him. He seemed to be moving very slowly. Too wide eyes traveled up the lighter path until they met Mokuba's own. Dull sapphire stared through him blankly.

Mokuba took another step, his bare feet silent on the carpet. His body seemed to come to life, suddenly jolted from inaction and shock to pure concern as his strides quickened. Some part of Mokuba warned him not to run forward. `The glass!' it begged him to notice, but he would not listen. His brother's _expression was too far away, too dead for Mokuba to stand by idly worrying over his own safety. If he did not do something swiftly, whatever was the matter with Seto would worsen. How much, he did not want to risk.

Seto felt bewildered, his senses dull. He felt lifeless, apart from the agony in his chest that proved wordlessly that he was not dead yet. He should be. His treasure was broken, cutting into his shaking palms as he refused to let it go.

Breathing became a struggle of will, every intake of stale air burning his throat down to his lungs. His teeth clenched mercilessly, his lips drawing back as he forced oxygen into his system, desperately trying to prevent the darkness at the edges of his vision from taking him over. He was not worried about falling into the abyss around him, but of what awaited him on the other side of that black border.

The special gift from Mokuba, the symbol of the bond between the brothers, was ruined. How could he have been so careless; how could he ever explain how this happened? What would he do? It all seemed so hopeless, suddenly, everything crumbling into one large dilemma that his mind could not handle. `It hurts, it hurts. Oh Ra, it hurts,' he chanted silently, his eyes squeezing shut as he began to rock, attempting to push back the nausea that threatened to drown him.

It was then, just as his world was ready to fall apart, the pain spreading relentlessly and too quickly, that the emptiness split open, banishing the invasion of darkness. The sudden contrast confused him. Upon seeing the outlined figure in the door, Seto could merely gaze at the creature until it moved. Flowing hair and an easily recognizable body-shape alerted him slowly that it was Mokuba.

His eyes caught fire, salty tears filling the corners of his vision. He became aware of the situation by the disbelief in his brother's eyes. This wasn't right. These circumstances… His lips jerked as if ready to speak, his hands folding tighter around the outcome of his sin. His voiced cracked in a dry throat as Seto managed his brother's name,

"Mokuba…."

The boy abruptly began to run toward him, heedless of the peril in his path. Seto's heart stopped, his eyes expanding. Indecision held him in a swirling panic. His skin instantly became sticky and wet, the sensation of blood coating his flesh polluting his already suffocating senses; the knowledge of physical pain corrupting his thoughts with fear.

`Don't come,' he thought hurriedly. His eyes fell to the floor in a flurry, hysteria taking him over. Mokuba would run onto the sharp edges, he knew it. "Stay…" the brunette's voice scratched at the air. His whole body tensed to its limit when his younger brother's foot crunched glass, blood instantly staining the carpet, the smell choking Seto as it caught in his mouth.

"Stay away!" he shrieked too late, launching himself forward on slick pads. His treasure slipped out of splayed hands as he grabbed for the raven-haired silhouette.

Surprise lit Mokuba's already dilated eyes when his brother tackled him to the floor. He landed haphazardly on his back, cringing as the tail of his vertebrae connected roughly with the floor. The backs of his arms burned slightly from the heat of friction, but he disregarded the sting, instantly pushing his elbows beneath him to lever his back up.

The brunette had his face buried desperately into Mokuba's belly, body sprawled across the teen's legs uncomfortably. Unsure hands clutched to the back of Mokuba's shirt as Seto's back rose painfully fast, hot breath wetting Mokuba's skin through his shirt.

Without thought Mokuba rubbed his brother's back, unable to even think about the scars there as he focused on the broken form against him. He had no words; he didn't even know what had happened. At the very least, he knew he was better off at the moment than Seto was and that gave him strength. No one else was there and no one else would be able to help his brother even if there was a full audience of onlookers.

"Nii-sama," he spoke finally, reprimanding himself for sounding like he was close to tears.

"Don't call me that," a muffled voice managed, fingers digging into Mokuba's back. "I don't," Seto started, his breathing escalating, "deserve…that title. I don't, I don't…" he faded off into whispers, lips moving rapidly as if in prayer.

"Nii-sama, don't say that…" Mokuba urged, brushing soft fingers through tangled brown hair. He attempted to lift Seto's face so he could look at him.

"I don't, I don't. I broke you, I brok…" the mantra continued, Seto resisting the hands pulling at him. He shook his head, burrowing further forward as if trying to melt into the soft flesh and hide away.

"Nii-sama!" Mokuba raised his voice insisting the brunette hear him, "Nii-sama, Nii-sama," he repeated as his brother shook his head, "I won't call you anything else…please look at me, Nii-sama." He stopped pulling, gently influencing Seto's chin to tilt, revealing bloodshot, but nearly dry eyes. The dryness seemed disturbing in this situation, even for someone like Seto, but Mokuba could not think of that now.

"Nii-sama," he drew the affectionate term out, looking into raw blue and smiling sadly, "I'm not broken. I'm still here," he insisted, leaning down closer. His eyes felt too warm; it was painful, but his brother needed help. With set determination and blatant sincerity, his hands covered cool cheeks, his face centimeters away. "And I won't break. No matter what you do," he whispered fiercely, "I'll still be here with you. I love you too much to leave you alone."

He bit his lip, trying to keep himself from crying as he faced Seto's abnormally vulnerable _expression. Was he even helping? All he could do was continue, even as the first tear lined his face, dripping down onto the brunette. "Talk to me, Nii-sama, let me shoulder some of the burden you're carrying. I won't break, I won't. Let me help you," he cooed, brushing back soft, brown strands from a blood-streaked face. His words continued, his voice caressing and gentle as if he were singing a lullaby, watching as Seto's eyes slowly drained of visible torment.

After a few silent moments, Mokuba's hand in Seto's hair paused its stroking; "We should get you cleaned up…" he started. Seto sat beside him now, his head bowed partially. "You're bleeding a lot, we should call a doctor," the teen said with instantly heightened worry, surveying the room. He hated to delay the long talk this situation demanded, but his brother couldn't very well speak easily as he was bleeding to death.

Seto nodded quietly, his eyes troubled and uncertain as he stared at the floor. Mokuba stood slowly, watching his brother as he sat completely still, obviously in deep thought. He then hurried to Seto's desk, dialing their private family doctor, a 24-hour emergency physician who could be at their door in ten minutes. Precautions made by his brother that had once seemed outlandish were now not enough for Mokuba's peace of mind. He explained there had been an accident that involved a broken mirror and Seto needed medical attention immediately. The doctor didn't even try to quarrel with the worried voice on the phone. Too aware of just how important his patient was, the physician left his house as quickly as possible.

Mokuba returned to his brother, ready to sit quietly beside Seto for a little longer as he waited, but Seto startled him.

In a voice that sounded discouraged, but clear, Seto said, "You should hide the gun…over there…" he indicated to the area behind him past the dresser. Mokuba's eyebrows met in alarm, eyes snapping up to see the dark metal object sitting on the other side of the dresser, away from the major spread of glass. He had almost forgotten about the gunshot in all the confusion.

"Nii-sama…why…?"

"It's loaded…" Seto interrupted with the precaution, his eyes riveted to the floor.

Without another word, Mokuba hurried around the danger zone, trying to ignore the pain in his foot. It was only a few pieces of glass, and it was surely less painful than what Seto was feeling. He forced himself to focus on picking up the gun gently. The heavy weapon felt cold and vicious lying in his palm. All the pieces of this puzzle were here, but exactly how this whole situation had occurred escaped Mokuba's perception.

Just how had the mirror broken, and the snow globe, too? He could not find any bullet holes and Seto did not appear injured from the gun. He frowned in confusion, snapping back to reality when Seto again spoke up.

"Do you know how to unload it?"

"No…" Mokuba admitted. He'd never used a gun before and he doubted watching people on television do it was considered experience.

"Bring it here." Mokuba did just that, maneuvering around the sharp debris with more ease this time. He watched as the brunette deftly clicked open the round, tapping the gun against his palm so the bullets would slip out into his hand. He handled it with an eerie familiarity that only deepened the frown set into Mokuba's mouth. When Seto handed him back the .45 and its ammunition, Mokuba rushed to hide them, dropping them into a drawer without care. He had to know what had happened in this room. He kneeled before his brother, looking intensely into Seto's blank _expression.

"Nii-sama, what happened? Please tell me," Mokuba pleaded. It would be a miracle if Seto agreed to his request, but it would undoubtedly be easier now than later. Seto tended to deal with problems he could not handle well by throwing them into the back of his mind and never speaking of them again. This could not become one of those times. "Let me help you. I want to help you," he all but begged, leaning forward slowly. He slipped his hand behind his brother's neck, urging him closer until he could hold him against his chest. Miraculously, Seto did not protest, allowing his weight to shift fully onto Mokuba.

Seto was feeling very unhappy. He felt too vulnerable, too open. Even though all of his common sense was against him telling Mokuba anything, he could not suppress the compulsion to speak to someone. It couldn't be just anyone, it had to be someone he trusted fully and Mokuba was the only one who fit that quota. The only one who had ever fit. The weight on his shoulders was suddenly too heavy.

"I…" he began, licking dry lips as he thought desperately how to tell his younger brother just what had happened. How could one explain that a near life-time of pain and shame had finally built up far enough that only a small crack in the surface had been sufficient to cause an avalanche, submersing him in everything he had tried to escape? That might work, but he could never reveal that much to Mokuba. The gun; he had to explain the gun first.

"I didn't mean for it to be loaded," Seto said quietly against Mokuba's chest. He closed his eyes, ready to continue when a piercing noise filled his ears, tearing at his skull. He groaned slightly in protest, suppressing the dizziness that suddenly threatened him.

"That must be the doctor," Mokuba pointed out, noticing the wince Seto made at the doorbell. "I have to go let him in…" He was hesitant to leave Seto alone, but nothing else could be done. There was no way Mokuba was going to encourage his wounds to bleed faster by moving him. He'd have to show the doctor up. "Sit here and rest; I'll be right back," he said as if he were now the older one.

Seto almost smiled, listening to Mokuba's words and barely understanding them. His thoughts were becoming a barrier around him, his mind wandering over the recent events with horrible detail. Hind- sight is 20-20, as they say. 20-10 seemed more accurate for Seto's advanced memory. He wondered again how he had let things get to this level. He listened quietly as Mokuba's footsteps faded from the room.

He was suddenly alone again. The walls pressed inward, closing in on him, the air turning pungent and suffocating.

He closed his eyes tightly, telling himself to calm down. Nothing had changed. Mokuba was only downstairs. He would be fine for a few minutes. He worked desperately to put his feelings back together so the doctor would not see him so defenseless. So weak. He felt pitiful and strained, sweat breaking out too easily across his feverish forehead and back.

His eyes snapped open violently. His back, hell, his whole upper body was still uncovered. Mokuba seeing it in the dark and not for the first time was one thing; a doctor, essentially a stranger, getting to stare at him while fixing his wounds was a whole other matter.

Against Mokuba's advice, Seto stood suddenly, hobbling over to where his shirt lay wrinkling on the floor. His feet had the least amount of glass in it, only a little from his final lunge out of the center of broken pieces. Most of it was in his hands and knees and the tops of his feet from where he had crawled as he left his corner to approach the disaster. Walking had seemed impossible after watching his treasure burst open from the gun's impact, only to break further once it hit the ground, mirror glass falling around it.

Buttoning up his shirt, Seto shook his head to clear those thoughts. He shouldn't have. Another surge of dizziness hit him and when he recovered, he was staring at the carpet from his side on the floor. He groaned quietly at the soreness in his side, content to stay still for now. His scars were covered and the plush carpet was really quite comfortable. He'd never laid on it before; why would he? He just felt so exhausted. He hadn't been getting the sleep he needed. He rarely did. And after all that had happened, and he supposed it had to do with some blood loss as well, he just felt like going to sleep. He closed his eyes, ignoring the throbbing in his veins.

He didn't have enough time to drift off as Mokuba came back, leading a shorter, older man into the dark room.

"I'm turning on the lights, Nii-sama," Mokuba announced in warning. His breath caught audibly when he saw Seto far from where he'd been left and on his side motionless. "Nii-sama! Are you all right?" He ran over to him, the doctor on his heels. He took acute notice of the shirt now covering Seto's secret scars and fought to keep his eyes dry. His relief was quite sincere when the brunette opened sapphire eyes to answer him.

"I'm…just fine, Mokuba," Seto said, his voice a little too normal. He attempted to push himself up to sit, but pain shot through his hand and up his arm. He would have fallen back down if the grey-haired physician had not caught him. Seto had to bite his own tongue to keep from snapping at him to keep his hands off.

"Kami-sama," the man breathed, his eyes scanning over the blood covering Seto's arms and legs, "what happened here?" He assisted his employer in lying back down onto his back, insisting the position would be better for his blood pressure.

"It's complicated," Seto said instantly, his voice turning to steel, "and I don't wish to speak of it with you, Field-san." His tone might have been rude, but his words were nothing but the truth. "As my personal doctor, you are of course under contract not to talk with anyone about this." He felt too defensive, needing any and every reassurance that people would not come to see him as something fragile.

"Oh course, Kaiba-san," the older man said quietly, sweat trickling down his forehead as he refused to meet the intimidating CEO's eyes. He didn't take offense really; he was used to his boss's sharp attitude. Kaiba rarely needed medical attention, but whenever he did, it was always like this. He dug into his medical bag, extracting a couple of bottles and a few long tools that Seto figured were for getting the glass out. He pulled on a pair of clean gloves and removed two pills. "Take these, please, Kaiba-san," Field requested. Seto stared at him for a moment, questioning. "It's a strong pain-killer. I need to get the glass out as quickly as possible so I can stop the bleeding. It should put you out after a few minutes. I'll use anesthesia until then." Thorough explanations seemed to do best when dealing with Kaiba Seto.

Seto took the pills dry, watching as the doctor prepared a needle. He was not at all afraid of needles, so this did not bother him. Mokuba, on the other hand, looked a little pale. It made Seto want to smile. He let his head lay back into the thick carpet, his eyes drifting closed. The last sensation he felt was the prick of a needle in his leg before exhaustion mixed with the drugs overcame him. Blissful, dreamless sleep followed.

He awoke to Mokuba's watchful eyes, blue-grey emotion staring openly at him. He blinked away the blurriness in his vision, attempting to raise his hand to wipe at his eyes. He winced, but managed to keep from voicing his discomfort. He stared at the bandages around his arm and hand blankly. He dimly realized that he was still in his room, the once soft carpet feeling flat and too warm against his sweaty back. He shifted, again ignoring the slight pain. If it hurt now, he knew it would be much worse tomorrow once the nerves began to heal. He sighed, closing his eyes again before remembering Mokuba. He met the teen's worried eyes again.

"How do you feel?"

"Ridiculous," Seto answered flatly. He constricted his stomach, pulling himself up to sit while using his arms as little as possible. He glared at his pants, which were now shorts. The fabric had been cut off from just above his knees and down, white bandages with various bloodspots now covering most of his calves and feet. "What time is it?"

"4:30."

"How long did I…" Seto began.

"An hour and ten minutes," Mokuba answered, easily figuring out what his brother was asking. Time meant too much to the brunette. "I asked him to leave you in here." He paused, contemplating continuing with what he meant to say. He settled for something close, "You shouldn't sleep on the floor, though. Or in here, for that matter."

"Ah…" was all Seto said.

"Let's get you into bed," Mokuba stood, coming to crouch down beside Seto, helping him up. "Put your weight on me, you aren't too heavy," he assured Seto.

Seto didn't feel like arguing, so instead he asked, "Where are we going?"

"You should sleep with me, so you aren't alone." With a less insisting tone it could have been a suggestion.

"There's no need for that. I'm fine, Mokuba."

`Of course you are,' Mokuba thought with near mocking sarcasm, but did not dare say it aloud.

"I really don't want you to be alone right now…" Mokuba replied quietly, his arm tightening noticeably around Seto's waist as they ambled slowly down the hallway. Seto lowered his eyelids, staring at the floor. He couldn't help but notice the bandage on Mokuba's right foot. His chest tightened painfully. Now he really felt incompetent.

"Hai," he said simply, agreeing with his brother.

"You shouldn't go to work tomorrow either."

Seto's throat constricted, but he knew that was true as well. His mouth was suddenly too dry, yet he managed another low, "Hai…"

They said nothing else until Mokuba was climbing slowly into bed beside Seto, trying not to jolt his injuries. Mokuba had changed into his pajamas, but Seto remained in his day clothes, neither wishing to take the time it would require to change the brunette in his current condition. They could worry about that in the morning.

"Mokuba…" Seto stared across the pillow at his brother as the teen scooted closer, bringing the comforter up around them. "Does your foot hurt?"

Mokuba blinked at him, his eyebrows lowering slightly, "I can barely feel it. Don't worry about me when you're the one all bandaged up. One little cut is nothing. Moreover, are you in much pain? Should I go get you something?"

In response Seto pulled Mokuba to him, Seto's chin resting atop his brother's head. "No, don't go anywhere. I'll be fine," he insisted quietly.

Mokuba's mouth turned to a pout in his brother's arms. He would have preferred to have the positions switched. He should have been the one holding Seto, chasing away all his fears and apprehensions after the night he'd had. But he had to admit, this wasn't so bad.

His cheeks flushed lightly. Seto's chest was warm and solid, every motion of breath adding a pleasant pressure across the teen's chest. Soft fabric smelling of a long day in the office tickled his nose and forehead, strong arms surrounding him protectively. He closed his eyes, resting motionless for several minutes, inhaling Seto's scent in silent bliss. To be so close to Seto, touching him so freely, felt too good to be real.

His eyes opened, as he stared forward nervously. His brother's shirt was pulled tight around his chest, mapping every curve and indention in perfect detail as if in offering to Mokuba's viewing pleasure. In truth, Seto was now asleep and unaware of the anxious, complicated thoughts beginning to race throughout his young brother's head. It was just as well.

His intentions changed so suddenly, Mokuba was barely aware of what he was doing. He found himself pressing his face forward, purposely inching closer to one side of his brother's chest. His eyes were riveted to the tiny bump in Seto's shirt. Sweat trickled down his face as he considered going ahead with what had crossed his mind only moments before.

`It'll be harmless…' the teen thought, biting his lip. Impulsively, the raven-haired boy eased his face closer, nuzzling into the larger chest as he might have done normally at any other time. Now, however, he intentionally found the soft nipple beneath the fabric, letting his nudges press into it. Hot color stained his cheeks as he felt it grow firm beneath his touch. A dry tongue slipped between his lips in an attempt to wet the chapped skin.

Suddenly, he stopped, holding his lips together to hide the sound of his escalated breathing. He shouldn't have done that. Oh Ra, if Seto found out he'd never trust him again. He cursed his teenage hormones, attempting to will his arousal to fade.

He was simply out of sorts having Seto in his bed. Any other time they had slept together, it had been in Seto's big bed and Mokuba had been much younger. It had been easy to hide it when they snuggled then. Why was it so hard now? He wished he could push the covers off of him, his skin was burning up, but Seto had him too firmly locked into his arms. He would have to endure.

He let out a shaky sigh, timidly letting his forehead again rest against Seto's rhythmically expanding chest, his ear pressed onto the brunette's arm. He usually had such tight control over his feelings for Seto. He treasured their relationship as it was now and did not wish to do anything that might jeopardize the way Seto treated him.

After all, he really did not expect Seto to reciprocate the more-than-brotherly affection he felt. He could acknowledge that it was a little unnatural to dream about being your older sibling's lover, but he'd always heard that if you freely fantasized about something forbidden that tempted you, the impulse would be sated with that freedom of thought. Those simple fantasies had been enough until their theme had started to mature. He wasn't sure when sex had first crept into his dreams of Seto, but ever since, keeping his secret in the form of bodily control had become much harder.

His head ached suddenly. This was hardly a subject to be thinking of now. He was ashamed of his own rashness. What kind of help was he, anyway? This situation was serious. Why did he have to be battling over his desires for his brother when Seto could have died earlier that night?

His thoughts stilled immediately, grey eyes staring forward at the sleeping form in front of him. `Perhaps that's why,' he told himself sadly.

Seto grimaced suddenly. The full memory of that night was no easier to swallow than it had been six months ago--when it had occurred. Work, no matter how distracting it might be, did not look very inviting anymore. His eyes wandered to the phone sitting out of the way on his desk.

`Call me if you need anything. No matter what time; even if you just want to talk, I'll be available.' The words of a concerned Mokuba stood out against the less pleasant memories that plagued him.

Cautiously, the brunette picked up the little phone and dialed in his brother's cell number. He might have used speed-dial, but this way gave him more time to think about what he was doing. Did he really want to call his brother at this hour and talk about how he felt at the moment?

What would he tell Mokuba? Still without an answer, Seto pressed the send button, aligned the speaker with his ear and closed his eyes.

"Nii-sama?" answered the raven-haired teen, his ready-for-action tone cutting through the real distance between the two brothers. With his eyes closed, Seto could almost believe he was in the room beside him. Unexpectedly, Seto smiled. He felt more relaxed already at just the sound of Mokuba's voice. If it was Mokuba listening to him, maybe speaking a little about his problems wasn't so bad. The pressure inside his chest had already lessened as he answered his brother, leaning back into the soft leather of his work chair. He could learn to get used to this form of release.

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There will still be several chapters for this story, everyone.
I'll upload the next chapter in a few days.
I see several people have looked at this story. I hope you're all liking it! =)
Remember, after this is the island! <3

-Blood