Fixation

Chapter 8

Seto was having a hard time focusing. The Kaiba Land blueprints were coming together wonderfully, all three of the Duel Monsters video games that Kaiba Corp was developing were ahead of schedule, and he was almost positive that the quarterly reports for his upcoming board meeting were flawless. He was almost regretting making Nakamura-san and her assistants come in on the weekend, but he wanted to make sure that there was nothing in the reports that he wasn’t prepared to discuss the next day. There were too many people on the Kaiba Corp Board of Directors who would pounce on any inconsistent figure or questionable record and use it against him. He’d finished reviewing the details of their profits from the duel disk system, reviewed the budget projections for the completion of Kaiba Land, and was about to start on the R & D projections when his secretary came in and bowed politely.

“A message for Nakamura-san,” said his secretary, handing a small piece of note paper to his accountant.

The older woman took the note with her thanks, and a slight bow. As she read the message, her expression dropped and her face paled.

“Is something the matter, Nakamura-san?”

Nakamura Sakura looked at him with her mouth agape, a look of shocked disbelief etched on her beautiful features. Tears were pooling in her eyes.

“Has something happened?”

She closed her mouth, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, pulling her mascara down with them. “Forgive me, Kaiba-sama, but I don’t think I’ll be of any use to you this afternoon. I must beg permission to leave and attend to a family emergency.”

“Is Tenchi alright?” Seto asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“My husband is fine, Kaiba-sama, thank you for your concern. I’m afraid the emergency concerns my foster son. Please, may I go to him?”

Seto rose to his feet and held the door open for her. “Of course. I can have my driver take you if you don’t think you can drive…”

“Thank you, but no. I really must hurry. Please, excuse me.” Nakamura-san bowed to the executives around the table and raced out of the room, leaving her open files, her brief case, and the scrap of paper with the message on it on the table.

Seto unfolded the scrap of paper and read the message. K’s father overdosed last night. K found the body this morning. Don’t know how long he sat there alone with the body before I arrived to check on him. Trying to get him to leave the apartment, he wont listen. Please help, Tenchi. Seto shivered and set the note down. He closed Nakamura-san’s folders, packed her brief case, and set it on a side table in case she returned for it. He would bring it to her house after he finished going over the quarterly reports if she didn’t come back for it, and tell her she could take however much time she needed off.

“I didn’t know the Nakamuras had taken in a foster child,” one of the older men across the table said conversationally. “Such a lot of work, on top of her duties here…”

“It happened by accident,” said one of Nakamura-san’s younger assistants. “He’s an older boy from a troubled home, but Nakamura-san was so impressed with him she felt compelled to help him. The poor boy had been close to blind his entire life, and managed to score average marks in school despite his disability. With the medical care the Nakamuras’ have provided, his sight has been restored and he seems to have a very bright future. Nakamura-san talks about him constantly.”

“Hm. I hope the boy is alright,” the man across the table said sympathetically.

Seto returned to his seat, staying above the idle chit chat of his employees, as he always did. He finished going over the R & D budget, refusing to let himself imagine that somewhere in the city, some low class twerp had the bad luck to stumble upon his father’s corpse. His imagination conjured up images of the grime and decay of Jou’s apartment, images of a twelve year old boy cowering in the corner, torn between fear, grief, and guilty relief at finding his father’s body.

Seto didn’t want to start that train of thoughts, but as the numbers ran together before his eyes, part of his brain still actively reviewing totals, he thought about the loss of the three parents he had known throughout his life.

Seto could hardly remember losing his biological parents. A police officer and a social worker had come to his school, pulled him into a small conference room in the office, and told him that his parents had been involved in an accident. He listened passively, not really understanding what the adults were trying to tell him. The social worker told him that his little brother was fine, that his parents had dropped Mokuba off at day care just a few minutes before the accident. Then the woman asked him if he understood what was happening. He didn’t. He’d been seven years old. But he was a genius. At seven years old, he was in a class with twelve year olds. People were always asking him if he understood things, and he’d found that so long as he said he understood, he could usually figure things out as he went along. He got more treats and more praise when he said that he understood. When he said no, he had to stay inside during recess and go though lessons again. So he said yes, he thought he understood, when he really didn’t have a clue.

After the social worker arranged for Seto and Mokuba to go into separate foster homes, funerals were organized. At the funeral, a few of his dad’s co-workers had bowed to him, but no one said anything. The only thing he had understood was that Mokuba’s foster parents couldn’t handle him. Their own parents had learned early that, while both brothers were gifted, Mokuba had a sensory integration disorder that made it very difficult for him to behave himself when there was any kind of new stimulation. It also made it impossible for him to wind down and take naps like a normal two year old. He watched Mokuba’s foster mother treat him like an imbecile because of the disorder, and saw the frustration in his baby brother’s eyes. He had understood that Mokuba was going to be placed in an orphanage, where specially trained staff would be able to address his needs.

Seto had carefully considered his options and then did the unthinkable. He threw a fit. And Seto always took everything he did quite seriously. Where a normal child’s tantrum would generally be finished within an hour, he kept screaming, kicking, and even biting for six days. His foster parents, finally fed up with trying to deal with an obviously disturbed child, dropped him off at the same orphanage. Once he had his brother back and could make sure no one treated Mokuba like a moron, Seto calmed down. Another foster placement had followed, along with another week-long tantrum. After six more failed placements, the social worker finally sat down to speak with Seto herself. He had quietly explained that he would not go into another home without his brother, and that if Mokuba had to stay in the orphanage, than he would, too. The social worker had tried to argue that they had different needs, and that Seto had a very good chance of finding a family to adopt him because he was so intelligent. Seto had told the middle-aged woman that the only thing he needed was his brother, and that if anyone wanted to adopt him, they would have to adopt Mokuba as well.

For years, Seto had used his good and bad behavior to manipulate potential parents, trying to charm them into wanting him and then into wanting Mokuba. Once they read Mokuba’s medical file and realized that the boy would need occupational therapy for years before he could attend school with other children, many tried to adopt Seto alone. Then, with a calculated patience, Seto would adjust his behavior to become every adoptive parents’ nightmare.

When Kaiba Gozoboro was visiting the orphanage to see the results of a sizeable donation he’d made to the facility, Seto was excited to find that he’d encountered an adult who didn’t seem to be an idiot. Seto had wormed his way into the man’s company with a chess game that he almost won. Gozoboro had been so intrigued that he had opened the negotiations himself—offering to get Seto out of the orphanage and provide him with a real challenge if Seto could beat him. During the game, Seto had alternated between flattering Gozoboro’s ego and feigning innocence about the stakes that the other was offering. When Seto forced Gozoboro into check mate, Seto had insisted that he wouldn’t leave without his younger brother.

Gozoboro had said that their bet had been for Seto, not for any extra baggage. Seto told Gozoboro that Mokuba was just as smart as him, if not smarter, and that he would be a fool to pass up the chance to adopt two boys who would become the smartest minds of their generation. Gozoboro had the nerve to pat Seto on the head and tell him that being able to win one game of chess did not qualify Seto as the smartest mind of his generation. As the old tycoon wandered away, Seto had made the ultimate bet. He bet he could beat Gozoboro in under ten moves. Gozoboro accepted, promising to adopt both brothers if Seto could win so easily. Seto beat him in six moves.

The adoption was formalized the next day and Seto and Mokuba packed up their few belongings and carried them out to a waiting limosine. Seto went back inside to get his last suitcase, and stopped in the room that he and his brother had shared for several years. Next to Mokuba’s bed was a small, wallet-sized picture of their family before the accident. Mokuba didn’t look at the photo as much as he used to, but Seto had spent many nights holding the picture and crying himself to sleep. He hadn’t understood that his parents were dead at first, but he knew they were gone. But if they were going to persuade Gozoboro Kaiba to keep them, and truly earn the name Kaiba from the older man, he would have to set aside his grief. He would also have to deny Mokuba all of the memories and joy of knowing about their parents. He would tell no more stories about mom and dad, he would not try to keep their memories alive, he would even cast aside their name. He would have to become both of their parents in Mokuba’s eyes. He would have to put everything he had into becoming a Kaiba.

Seto left the photo in the room and walked away.

Inside the car, Gozoboro had explained that he did not need a family, did not want two snot-nosed kids trailing after him while he was trying to get work done, and would not tolerate any of the behavior that was recorded in the staff notes from their files at the orphanage. They would work, they would study, and they would train in martial arts and etiquette. When they could be of use to him, Gozoboro might put up with them. If they failed him, he promised that he would dump them on the streets in a heartbeat. During that drive, Seto began to understand just what type of man his new adoptive-father was, and that he would have no choice but to exceed the other man’s every expectation if he was going to keep his brother safe and provide for him. Seto was ten at the time. It didn’t take long for Seto to successfully set aside his grief. He had devoted himself to Gozoboro and made sure that
Mokuba never crossed the older man’s path.

He was twelve the first time he had ended up in Gozoboro’s bed. Seto refused to think of what had happened between them as abuse, although he knew that the law would characterize it that way. Seto had started things, though. Even though Gozoboro was careful about the boys that he made use of sexually, they didn’t escape Seto’s attention. The fact that they were all young, were slight of build, and had long brown-black hair and blue or green eyes hadn’t escaped Seto’s attention, either. The first time, Seto had found Gozoboro stumbling through the mansion looking for Mokuba, too drunk to hold his tongue. Seto reasoned that if this was one of Gozoboro’s expectations, than it was Seto’s responsibility to make sure his needs were met. It was certainly preferable to letting the older man force himself on Mokuba. The next morning, Gozoboro had been furious enough that he beat Seto senseless.

When Seto regained consciousness, he found the other man inside him again, thrusting hard enough to hurt him. For two years things had gone on like that, although the beatings became less frequent when Gozoboro learned that Seto was willing.

The night things ended, Seto had come to this very board room and found Gozoboro touching Mokuba through his clothing. The younger boy was squirming uncomfortably and crying. Seto offered Gozoboro the smile that he knew made the older man eager, then he told Mokuba to go down to the arcade. That night was the first impulsive thing that Seto had done in his entire life. He offered to suck Gozoboro off in front of the window. As he did, he listened to Gozoboro talking about how hot both of his boys were turning out, and how much he couldn’t wait to have both of them at once. He leered and told Seto about his fantasy of watching Seto take his little brother while Gozoboro fucked Mokuba’s mouth. At fourteen, Seto was an expert at manipulating his adoptive father. He pushed the other man’s cock out of his mouth and started talking, playing on the fact that he knew the other got off on the thrill of sex in public and coaxed him out on to the balcony, offering to let Gozoboro bend him over the rail and fuck him where the whole world could watch. Gozoboro had taken Seto by the hand and charged out the door, eager to finish what Seto had started. Seto had grabbed Gozoboro’s wrist, pivoted on his hips, and thrown the other man as hard as he could.

Seto wasn’t stupid enough to sit there and relish the moment of Gozoboro’s death. He hurried to Gozoboro’s office and edited the security footage that had caught the whole incident on tape. It didn’t take him long. Soon he was absent from the scene altogether, and the only thing the security footage showed was Gozoboro molesting Mokuba, the boy leaving, and Gozoboro rushing out to the balcony and diving over the edge.

He hadn’t even thought about Kaiba Corp stock and inheritance at the time. But, by the time the police arrived, quietly confiscated the security footage, and called Seto and Mokuba’s original social worker, Seto had realized that the two of them now controlled fifty-five percent of Kaiba Corp’s stock. He took a lesson from Gozoboro on how to deal with the social worker, dragging DFS into court and forcing them to recommend legal emancipation for Seto and that he be appointed as Mokuba’s guardian. At the emergency board meeting that followed Gozoboro’s death, Seto had already persuaded all but Gozoboro’s Big Five that he was the only one qualified to take over Kaiba Corp.

Seto knew better than to think that there might be anyone else in the world who would ever view death as a catalyst to make one’s life better. But he thought that it was actually a fairly optimistic point of view. A small section of his brain once suggested that there was nothing normal about looking on the bright side of seduction and murder, but Seto quickly silenced that part, reminding it that following that idea to its logical conclusion meant that he would have to view ethics as absolute values. Down that road were arguments that a woman who fails to make sure the safety belt on her infant car seat was totally secure should be held just as accountable for the child’s death as a serial killer was for the deaths of his victims. His own unique brand of situational ethics allowed him to go to work every day. It even allowed him to enjoy the quiet view from the balcony of his boardroom without any twisted emotional entanglements.

The only person who seemed to know what happened was Roland. The bodyguard had slipped a few times, hinting that he knew more about Gozoboro’s suicide than he should. That was enough to make Seto suspicious, and he spent an entire night checking security permissions and found, to his horror, that the original security footage was archived on a separate network, and the only one with permission to access it was the head of Kaiba Corp Security—Roland himself. For the first year or so after Gozoboro’s tragic suicide Seto kept expecting the large body guard to come to him with some kind of black mail attempt. But it never happened. When Mokuba was kidnapped, Roland had been by his side, searching just as frantically for the boy as Seto himself. When they had to search separately, Roland handed Seto a gun and explained its use. He also explained that, given Seto’s position, if he allowed himself to develop a reputation for showing mercy to his enemies he would only put Mokuba in danger throughout his entire life. Seto had taken that advice to heart.

When Seto went back to delete the original footage, he found that Roland had deleted it himself shortly after Gozoboro’s death. In the computer’s trash file he found a file that matched the original file name still in-tact. Instead of incriminating video, it contained a typed note. The note was an apology, nothing more and nothing less. It was unsigned, but since only someone with access to the original file could have written it, there was no question in Seto’s mind that the body guard had meant for Seto to find it.

Seto shook his head, trying to force his brain to focus. He closed the quarterly report and glanced out at the same balcony with a smile. He wondered if losing Roland would compare to what a normal person felt when they lost a parent. Seto had taken great pains to make sure that he would never have to find out. Roland was one of the highest paid security experts in the world, and he controlled a force the size of a private army to keep Seto and his employees safe. Still, Seto had insisted on interviewing each of his own bodyguards. He took the opportunity to tell them that making sure Roland never took a bullet for him was just as much a part of their job as making sure that he never took a bullet himself.

For a moment, Seto imagined himself sitting over Roland’s body in a dingy apartment like Jou’s. The image almost made him laugh. Roland could take on the entire world. If his honor demanded it, Seto knew that the other man would have the courage to end his life appropriately. He wasn’t going to overdose in some shit hole and leave a young boy to figure out how to cope alone. And Roland would never be in a position where honor would demand that he take his life. The relief that flooded through Seto at that realization was enough to lighten his mood. Now he just had to make sure that he would never find Jou’s body in some stinking, filth saturated hell and Seto could completely relax.

He was going to take care of that tonight. He’d meet Jou by the school, spend the night persuading the Mutt that he would never be able to live without Seto, and then lock the Mutt in his bedroom until he agreed that he wouldn’t run back to the home his dad so lovingly provided. It didn’t really matter if the Mutt agreed to stay with him or not, just so long as the Mutt agreed not to go back to his father. Seto wouldn’t object to getting the Mutt his own apartment if he felt like he still needed space. Of course, it had to be an apartment worthy of Seto’s time and furnished in the best of taste. With a big bed, Seto reminded himself. He would keep the Mutt safe, happy, and well fed, and Seto would never have to spend another moment not worrying about him. It was going to be great.

All Seto had to do was keep busy until tonight. Just keep busy, keep his mind focused, and the time wouldn’t drag by like it had earlier that morning. He’d been awake until four in the morning, cursing himself for not dragging the Mutt home with him and just waiting for him to sober up. Seto was actually surprised that tasting the whiskey on Jou’s breath hadn’t killed his desire right there, since it was a taste he thought he had firmly associated with Gozoboro, but he had spent the entire night wishing he’d taken the blonde idiot up on his offer. Somewhere around two in the morning, he had accepted that he would never be happy if the events in the school bathroom really did only happen one time. He needed the Mutt. He couldn’t guess how long this attraction would continue, but he knew that it wasn’t likely to go away on its own after just being with the Mutt for a single night.

Kaiba finished his review of the quarterly report, thanked everyone on his staff who had come in to help double check figures and projections, and then packed up his own briefcase. He grabbed Nakamura-san’s briefcase too, and left the office. Nakamura-san’s home was located just a few blocks from his own, so he had Roland swing by.

The Nakamuras’ housekeeper opened the door. “Kaiba-sama,” she bowed low. “Welcome. I am sorry that my master and mistress are not home. If you would like to leave a message and calling card, I shall inform them of your visit as soon as they return.”

“Thank you, but no. I know that Nakamura-san is dealing with a family emergency and I wouldn’t dream of taking up her time at the moment. However, she left her brief case at the office when she left, so I took the liberty of bringing it over.” He held out the brief case for the woman.

“Thank you, Kaiba-sama.” There was another bow.

“Is the Nakamuras’ foster son alright?”

The woman’s eyes welled with tears. “She told you about what happened?”

“A bit.”

“Well, I hope he will be. He loved his father very much, despite their problems. He’s been here so much lately, working on that ridiculous garden day and night… I hope he knows how much we all care about him.”

“Yes,” Seto said, thinking quickly. He always tried to take an interest in his immediate staff. Sometimes learning and remembering a few key details about someone was all it took to insure that his people were fiercely loyal to him. “Sakura-san mentioned her garden. It’s become one of her favorite subjects. I know the timing is horrible, but could I persuade you to show it to me? It sounds like such a dramatic change from the last time I saw it.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a bit,” the housekeeper smiled.

She led Seto through the wester-style house and on to a large back patio. In the setting sun, what had been a traditional back yard had been transformed into beautiful garden with a winding coy pond and waterfall.

“Now I see why she is so proud of it. And you say that her foster son has been helping with the remodel.”

“Not helping—organizing. The garden was his design and he’s done pretty much all of the work. You should see the walkway while you’re here, it’s breathtaking.”

Seto followed her around the pond and onto a mosaic walkway that looked like something he should have commissioned himself. Long, Chinese black and white dragons were set in a mosaic style, intertwined like Celtic knots. Each pair of dragons was nearly twenty feet long. Seto knelt down by the beginning of the design. The white dragon had two shimmering blue stones set as its eyes, the black dragon had a single red stone set as its eye. In the second set of dragons, the white dragon was in a profile view with a single blue eye and the red dragon had two gemstone-like red eyes. “This is beautiful. Was it done by hand? I saw some contractors using pattern pieces that had been manufactured together, when we redid plaza in front of Kaiba Corp. I had requested dragons at the time and was told that the patters weren’t available.”

“All done by hand. I’ve watched him use toothpicks to trace the design. He’s quite talented.”

Kaiba straightened up, a happy, tranquil feeling making him feel more relaxed and lighter than he had all day. “Thank you for showing me. I feel very fortunate to have seen it.”

“You are most welcome, Kaiba-sama.”

Seto thought about the dragon mosaic on the way home. It would be a pity if the Nakamuras’ foster son didn’t go on to study art. It was an ambitious project for a kid. Seto would have to find out more about him.

When he got home, he found Mokuba playing video games. He checked the boy’s homework, which was perfect, as always, and then disappeared into his home office. He wasted a good hour and a half obsessing over what he was going to wear. When he had wrinkled everything in his closet that wasn’t a suit or made of leather, he found himself in the outfit he usually wore to nightclubs. After examining the leather pants, which were a bit more snug than he remembered, he decided that Jou might appreciate wrinkled blue jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt more than a hot BDSM look. It was eight o’clock before he got in the shower, and nine before he stood, naked, staring at the pile of rumpled clothing on his bed. He got dressed and shoved everything in the hamper, knowing that it would all be clean, pressed, and back in his closet by noon the next day. He made the bed quickly and then attempted to tease his hair into a more stylish shape. He failed, of course. His hair had decided on one shape when he was a young boy and had, despite the abuse of thousands of dollars worth of styling products, never changed. It was a family curse—Mokuba’s hair even ate most scissors.

Seto checked his appearance in the mirror and decided that, over all, he could look a lot better. Somehow, the same look that made him hard when he stared at the Mutt just didn’t work on him. He told himself that he wouldn’t be wearing the outfit that long anyway, so it really didn’t matter. He slipped down the back stairs and out through the kitchen, grabbing the keys to a plain sedan he kept for his cook and housekeeper to run errands with, and drove to the empty high school. It was five minutes to ten when he turned off the car and tried to relax while he waited for the Mutt to show up.

He managed to sit still until five minutes after, then he couldn’t keep from drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. At ten minutes after, he started the car and drove along the route Jou walked each day. He saw a few people on the streets, but none of them had blonde hair. He drove into Jou’s neighborhood and stopped a block short of the Mutt’s building, thankful that he’d decided to stick with the casual clothing after all. He kept his distance from the other people on Jou’s street and made his way up to Jou’s apartment. The door was still broken in, but now a single strip of police tape hung across the frame. Seto ducked under the police tape and raced through the apartment, terrified of what he might find. But he didn’t find anything.

There was no sign of his Mutt. There was also no sign of Jou’s father. If Seto hadn’t seen the apartment before, he’d have assumed that someone broke in and that he was walking through the scene of a robbery. Seto knew better, though.

When he was certain the Mutt wasn’t home, he drove back to the school, only to find that the blonde still hadn’t shown up. Seto parked in the empty parking lot and waited for a few minutes, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. He scanned the side of the school and the buildings around it, hoping to see Jou slouched in a shadow. He watched the street and the sidewalk, refusing to think about the possibility that the Mutt had stood him up.
Two hours later, he was refusing to brood about the fact that the Mutt had probably only agreed to meet him as a joke. He and his idiot friends were probably at Yugi’s right now, making bets about how long Seto would be stupid enough to wait for the mongrel to show up. Seto griped the wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

At midnight, he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down. He wasn’t going to get mad until he was sure that the blonde had stood him up.

And even then, Seto would find out why before he did anything rash. There was police tape over the door of Jou’s apartment, after all. He wasn’t going to get angry. He would go home, get as much sleep as he could, and then track the Mutt down after the quarterly board meeting tomorrow. If he was in the hospital all Seto would have to do was call. If he had finally ended up in a foster home, he would call Nakamura and demand the name of Jou’s DFS caseworker. He was disappointed that he would have to wait to claim the Mutt, but he would claim him. He just had to be patient and not lose his head.
Seto started the car and drove home slowly. He was too tired to think about Jou anymore tonight. He was physically and emotionally worn out. For once, he was exhausted enough that his mind was finally quiet. He might actually be able to get to sleep without having to take the sedatives his doctor prescribed.

He drove through downtown Domino, staring straight ahead. He forced his eyes to avoid the sidewalks. He wasn’t going to let himself get excited every time he spotted someone who matched Jou’s build or profile. He wasn’t going to drive around the entire city like some starving predator who had lost his prey’s scent.

Or rather, he wasn’t going to keep doing that all night.

Seto turned towards his home, disappointment welling inside him and threatening to break through the cold mask he had perfected over the years. He would not break, would not let himself feel hurt or used. He was Seto Kaiba.

As he turned down his street, he kept repeating the phrase in his mind. He was Seto Kaiba. He wasn’t allowed to be upset. He had better things to do than chase after some runaway Mutt. Compared to the rest of the city, the quiet upper class street was dead quiet. There were no stop signs or traffic lights, so Seto relaxed, and reached up to enter his security code in the remote clipped to the driver’s side visor. A hundred yards ahead, his wrought iron gate swung open. He turned into the driveway, glanced into the rear view mirror. A slim figure, dressed in dark colors, had slipped through the gate behind his car. Seto nearly hit the panic button on the remote, which would summon a dozen armed security guards in seconds, but stopped when he recognized the shape and movement of the body beneath those dark clothes.

He couldn’t help the satisfied smile that crept up on him at the sight. He had always wanted a puppy to follow him home. He quickly forced the smile away, replacing it with what he hoped was a convincing pout. He began scripting how he would use Jou’s failure to show up to manipulate the other boy. He stopped the car near the door to the kitchen and hoped out quickly. He strode towards the fence where Jou was lurking, not bothering to stay calm as he went. From the way Jou’s body froze, he obviously saw Seto coming and assumed that it was someone else. When Seto got close enough to see the golden color of Jou’s hair and eyes, Seto saw Jou sag with relief.

He was about to shout at Jou, to demand an explanation, to grab him by the throat and kiss him until he lost consciousness, but all of his plans evaporated when he saw the broken look in Jou’s eyes. Jou’s golden skin was so pale that he had the clammy off white look of a corpse, his eyes were swollen and red, and his whole body shrank, defeated. Seto stopped a few feet away from the Mutt, trying to recall if he had ever seen a look so empty, so crushed, in those eyes before. Throughout their many fights, Jou’s many failures, the shame and hardships of his impoverished life, Seto had never seen anything that could extinguish the fire in Jou’s eyes.

He did not demand an explanation. He pulled Jou into his arms and crushed the smaller boy against his chest. Jou collapsed against him as though every drop of his strength was gone. Seto gasped as he felt Jou’s whole body spasm and tremble under his hands, like his whole body was sobbing even though he was too exhausted to cry.

Seto sighed and carefully picked Jou up. Jou clung to his t-shirt and shoulders as Seto carried him into the house. He set Jou down in his own bed and lay down beside him, holding the Mutt as he clung to Seto and trembled. After about twenty minutes, when Jou’s breathing finally evened out, Seto pulled one of his hands free and pulled out his cell phone. He sent a quick text message to his secretary instructing her to reschedule tomorrow’s board meeting, then he pulled Jou close and tried to sleep.