comfortably numb

Disclaimer: -_- if i owned yu-gi-oh, i'd be rich as hell and Duke and Joey would be my filfthy
man whore prostitutes. have you ever seen either one of them in leather hot pants? then i obviously
don't own yu-gi-oh.

(A/N: ok. currently, i'm in the middle of a fic entitled 'la casa de los muertos'. you've probably seen it
around. how ever, do to the severe lack of reviews, i'm writing this. don't worry, i'm still going to continue
writing that, i just thought i'd write another one shot. now, unlike my last one shot which sadly got reported and removed
*glares at vindictive* this is a non-lemon. it's just very very depressing..that's why it's rated R. it's S/J,
just like all my other fics. this is just a little note, Joey's dead. it's a little confusing the way i laid it out..
i'll explain how he died. don't get me wrong, i LOVE Joey! i mean, serious love here man! can't you just feel the love in
the room? we're talkin obesssion here *eye twitches as i assume the fetal position and begin to hum
'can you feel the love tonight'* any way, it's a suicide fic. *sniffle* SO sad! it's done to pink floyd's comfortably numb.
LOVE pink floyd! he's great. and so is this song. *doesn't own that either* this fic, i must admit, is a little weeeeird.
and confusing. it was kinda pulled out y hey head at exactly 2:32 am strictly out of pure bordom. it's VERY angsty too!
what can i say? i like to make people cry. only because that's the best way to make them feel. sorrow is the strongest
and most intense emotion you can feel after all. so here it is. my *sniffle* suicide fic. *runs in room crying*

~~~~~~~~~*Seto's P.O.V*~~~~~~~~~~
{Hello? Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone at home? }
it's raining again, i reflect as the cold wet drops of nothingness pitter patter on the side walks and various objects of the empty city i reside in.
the place i call home. but home is no where. no where with out him. he used to call this city home too. and my home was with him, so i guess that
made this my home. but now that he's gone, it's only a collection of large buildings reaching out to the cloudy sky filled with empty unfamiliar faces,
ordinary people going about their daily lives as if nothing matters. how is it possible that they can be so happy, so care-free, and so completely
un-aware of the tragedy that had made it's self known in my life? it's as if none of this exists to them. none of them care. i feel like i'm standing in the
middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, yet none of them even look up. none of them give me the common curtosy of a pat on the back
or an 'i'm sorry.' none of them care. they don't even know. not that it matters. sorry can't bring him back. sorry means nothing to me.
{Come on, now,
I hear you’re feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain
And get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I’ll need some information first.
Relax}
it was raining that night, i recall. the night that all my lifnt tnt to hell. the night that he died. his friends had all been there, holding each other,
crying with each other, comforting each other. yet none of them bothered to comfort me. they didn't understand, how important he was to me.
hell, they all said it was my fault in the first place. that's understandable. i was the one that pulled the trigger. i was the one that supposedly put him out
of his misery. If the police hadn't have discovered his will, explaining that he wanted me to do it, i would be in prison right now. not even i,
the great seto kaiba could get away with murder. but was it really murder? in his eyes, i was only doing what he wanted. in his eyes, beautiful eyes,
i was setting him free.
{Just the basic facts.
Can you show me where it hurts?
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying.}
please, believe me. i was doing what was right. i was only setting him free from the confinments of hs sickening prison. i would like nothing more
than to take it all back. or even to forget. even the happy memories only bring me pain. that's why i cry. i cry for him; as my crystal-like tear drops
as rare as the most precious of gems fall amongst the already moist soil of his grave. i cry, as i remember. it was 2 years ago today that Joey was diagnosed
with some sort of cancer. i'm afraid i can't remember the exact name of it. with the proper treatment, they said Joey could live out the rest of his life and die an old
man. they said it was up to him, to live or not. but i guess Joey just didn't want to bother trying to fulfill that promise those people had made him. he said some times,
the pain was unbearable. he would some times wake me in the middle of the night, coughing up blood and clutching his stomach in pain, or maybe a fever that would
get so severe he would spend up to weeks in the hospital. the treatment was even worse. it demanded constant attention. a painful shot once every morning and
night, and that required time i just didn't have. he said the treatment made him feel weak, both physically and emotionally. he'd pass out at random times, and always
seemed to be in the worst of places. i remember once, in a business meeting we both had to attend, he had slumped over onto my shoulder and woke up two weeks
later in a hospital. it scared me beyond belief. that was before we knew. i'm greatful though, that he had it much better than most cancer victims. no vomitting or
bleeding in embarrassing places, and he never lost a stran of his gorgeous golden hair. but in return, he lost his life, only because he hadn't had the strength to endure
the agony of both the treatment and the desease. so one night, he was laying on what would have been his death bed, simply basking in the serenity of the silence
that surrounded us, all exept for the pitter patter of rain drops on our roof top. he turned to me, and asked "seto, would you open that top drawer in the desk?"
i was curious, but i didn't question him. i took out a small key we kept just underneith the said writing desk in the corner of our room. there, sitting amongst a bright
purple velvet cushion, was a small silver revolver. and judging by the empty box of bullets sitting beside it, it was loaded. "see that gun?" he asked, his voice
becoming weaker with his every word. i had nodded, and let out a choked 'yes' as my nerves shook with the sheer thought of what he intended to do with it.
"you know what i want you to do with it." he spoke again, his voice now a mere whisper, barely audible amongst the rain which was now pouring out side of our
window. i gulped and nodded shakily. as i grabbed the gun and opened the chamber to find that it was indeed fully loaded, i let out a shaky breath and walked over
to the bed. silent tears left twin wet trails down Joey's cheeks as he gave sha shaky nod and closed his eyes, keeping a completely straight face as he did so.
so i lifted the gun, pointed to his head, then lowered it to his stomach, deciding that i wanted no blood to stain my love's perfect face. the face of the angel. i stopped,
hesitant to do it, wondering for a brief moment if this was all some stupid test to see if i would really be willing to kill my own boy friend. but as Joey's eyes slowly
blinked open, i noticed that they held only truth in their now darkened caramel colored depths. "go on." he said, as he took my hand and gently pushed it down so
that it was now lightly pressed against his gut. he nodded to me one last time, then closed his eyes, as i did the same, and i did it. i pulled the trigger. that was the last
time i would ever see those beautiful brown eyes again.
{When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt like two balloons.
Now I’ve got that feeling once again
I can’t explain you would not understand
This is not how I am.
Ah ah ah ah I have become comfortably numb.}
now, i couldn't feel worse about it as i look up at the large head stone carved into the shape of an angel. an angel straight from heaven. that's what he is.
but i guess even angels have to leave this world, some time. they belong with god. or so i've heard. i'm not a very religious man. i'm the type of person
who only believes in what can be seen, and any thing else is pure insanity. Joey once told me that his family was catholic, though i'm pretty sure he was not.
old withering flowers now soaked in the rain lie upon his grave, though they'll soon be gone as some one, whether it be his family, his friends, or my self decide
to replace them. actually, that was what i was here to do, i recall. so i pick up the old dying flowers and toss them aside as i place a fresh large bouquet
of sun flowers amongst the various cards and pictures on his grave. sun flowers were always Joey's favorite. we had a whole garden of them once, in oack ack yard.
a whole garden built just for him. it was one of our favorite places. in fact, one of the previously mentioned pictures was one of Joey and i, sitting on thee
oe
of a large fountain in the middle of our garden, my self looking off in the distance of the many acres of the yellow flowers he was so attached to, and Joey smiling
fondly at me, his large doe eyes sparkling with happiness and life. Mokuba had taken it after spying on us from behind one of the hedges that lined the cobblestone
path that led to the said fountain. i must admit, it's a beautiful picture. the golden hues of the sun set casting over Joey's pristine features, giving him an angelic look
that was now truly befitting. i have no right to be sad though, for i'll soon be with him. in happiness, for all eternity.
{O.K.
Is Just a little painprick.
There’ll be no more aaaaaaaaah!
But you may feel a little sick.}at'at's right. i've decided to take my own life. but you see, i have no life if i can't spend it with him. this is the only way. i won't wait until i'm an old man to finally
be with him. so i reach into my coat pocket, and pull out a small silver revolver. the very same revolver that took the life of my one and only love. and soon, it will
take my life as well.
{Can you stand up?
Now I do believe it’s working,
ah ah, ah ah Gonna keep you going through the show
Come on it’s time to go.
Gonna keep you going through the show
Come on it’s time to go}
i look over my reflection in the cold cool silver that makes out the figure of the gun. i look like hell. there are dark circles under my eyes, indicating that i haven't
slept in weeks, my face, if possible, is even paler than usual, and my hair looks oily and slick, the healthy shine completely gone from the now greyish tresses.
that's ok. i'll have no use of this body once i complete my task. so i take the revolver, check the barrel to comfirm that it's fll, hold it to my heart, and..........
{There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship, smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can’t hear what you’re saying.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on
The child is grown,
The dream is gone.
Ah ah ah ah I have become comfortably numb
Ah ah ah ah I have become comfortably numb.}
i pull the trigger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
two graves sat side by side in the emptiness of the town of domino as the rain poured down amongst the concrete side walks and the collection of large buildings
reaching out to the cloudy sky, filled with familiar faces that go about their daily lives like nothing happened. they read; Joseph 'Joey' Wheeler-
born 1/1/87; died 4/7/002. Seto Kaiba- born 9/14/86; died 4/7/003. they will be missed
~*End*~

(A/N: *sniffle* R&R please!