I will note...

Authors note: this is just a weird idea that sat down in my mind and wouldn’t leave. This is Second-person POV. Yes you heard me right, also somewhat of a mystery paring. varonX? No OC’s in this. Anywhere. They were run over by trucks just to make sure.

Warnings: male/male non-caring shounen ai, defenestration, possible non-con (blink and you’ll miss it), and ‘wacky’ Japanese game shows.


“I will note…”
by Aryum Grey


Wasn’t it just last week when you claimed that you would be fine from now on? Yes, I do remember you dragging yourself out of my bed and getting dressed while shouting such a thing. (Which is slightly disgusting, you didn’t bathe after we had finished that evening.) But let me continue: you swore up and down that you weren’t going to let that ‘two-faced bastard’ use you and then throw you out on the street.

I will note that you’re lying wounded at my feet again.

And from the look of it, you’ve got a broken arm. I sigh and pick you up by your unhurt shoulder, dragging you into my living room. You make a sound that isn’t dignified in the least, but then again your machismo isn’t cranked up too far when you’re slipping in and out of consciousness; unlike at all other times when it seems to top even your survival instincts. Once I open up your torn shirt I can see more clearly the slashes on your chest, deep marks that have stained the layer of fabric above it to the level where the cloth is brown. You make another noise, obviously in great pain, and I remove your clothing as swiftly as I can.

…Lord, what did you say to him? He nearly killed you.

There are a few bruises, but mostly it’s cuts and shards of glass; I see that he kept his word about chucking you out of a window if you annoyed him. Never think that a Kaiba is bluffing when it comes to threats, we both know how vicious they can be. I’ve observed it from afar and you…

Well, observing your state, I need not go any further in that train of thought.

You are lucky that you’ve crawled your way into this withered remnant of a heart; otherwise I’d leave you on my doorstep to freeze. As it is though I tend to your wounds, yes even at where he took you without preparation.

You tried to force him didn’t you? Bad idea, you should really run your plans by me before you execute them. This wouldn’t happen as much. Let me guess, you tried to force your dominance on him, and he in return decided to show you who was in control. Your neck is marked with bites; your hips are imprinted with the tell-tale scabs where his manicured nails broke skin. And from the bruising on your flesh, it seems his grip is as strong as I expected. I clean all your injuries, and then see to the broken bones.

~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~


It’s an hour later when you wake up, looking at me with that stare that expresses just as much as words. “Hello Varon.”

‘Hello Varon, don’t say a thing about how you’re right, don’t even give me a word about how I throw my health away for nothing.’ That’s what your eyes are telling me. But I never listened much to your eyes or your mouth.

“You are a grand idiot.” I give you a cold look, and return to the mindless game show on T.V.

You glare, and try to raise yourself up. With a stifled cry you sink back down onto my bed. You have a rasping voice which I can only assume comes from overuse, either from shouting or screaming, “I nearly won.”

“And he nearly murdered you. It’s a fair trade I’d say.”

“He nearly gave in.”

“Kaiba Seto doesn’t give in, he bides his time until he can get revenge on you.” once again I look at you, and you’re so close I can see the glint in my eyes reflected in yours, “You most of all should know that.”

You run that one good hand through that messy hair of yours, and turn your head away. I know what you’re thinking, I would even if I wasn’t so connected to you; you can’t hide your emotions. You radiate your feelings, and even your past is reflected in the clothes you wear, which on that note…

“Varon, where did you put my jacket?” you look down at yourself, “And my shirt?” You now turn to me and once again attempt to sit up. I oblige you and slide your barely-masculine form into my lap. I feel you stiffen then after a moment, relax into my hold. Yeah I know, we both don’t like being touched out of the blue, and even if it’s someone we’re comfortable with it takes us a moment to get used to it.

“In the closet. And you’re never getting back that ugly-as-hell shirt back. I assumed you’d be staying with me tonight.”

“I don’t have a choice now do I?” I can hear the raised eyebrow in your voice.

“Not really.” A long pause spreads; the only sounds in the house are the cars from the street, the television show, and our breathing. It feels like hours before I ask, “So, did you lose your voice from screaming or yelling?” it feels just as long before you reply:

“Neither, from when he struck me in the throat.”

“Ah.” That explains the other discoloration on your neck. I note in the back of my mind that even though the man I now hold brought this on himself, Seto will pay for what he did.

Once more we let silence fall between us, and we both watch the brightly-colored spectacle that is a Japanese game show. Some team in one neon color races the other team in a neon color to get to the computer-generated rainbow pie plate first.

And they say _American_ shows aren’t intelligent.

One team completed the race, then there was a round of questions, then something involving a daikon radish; but by that time I wasn’t really paying attention anymore. By then you are drowsing in my arms, curled up so that your injuries won’t interfere too much with your sleep. At one point I think I faintly hear a murmur, and ask you to repeat what you have said.

“remin’ me tomorrow, about going to see ‘m.” Ah yes, the love of a brother for his family. What a great fool you are.

“You know you can’t.”

“I know.” And I can nearly taste the hurt in his voice, “but I can hope they can hear me can’t I?” you shift your body and look at me with grey eyes that are so childish now. I brush away a red strand of hair that threatens to invade my mouth and reply;

“Yes I guess you can, it doesn’t hurt to try.” Except that it does, and I hate that fact that you’ll come back from the Buddhist temple even more upset, and that’d you would even go there in the first place. I hate that you have given yourself entirely to the prospect of destroying one man so much that you have entangled yourself with him physically in the process. I hate that you are willing to be die if only to take this one man with you, like some revenge-starved wolf.

You roll back over and curl into my arms in a way that seems so innocent… that for a moment I can’t think of you as the killer you are. I see your breathing slow into the regular pattern of sleep.

And most of all, I hate that I can’t make myself indifferent to your troubles. I lean down, and mutter into your ear, “yes Amelda, you are the grandest of idiots.”

Except in this case, for possibly me.

End.

~~~~~~~~~~@~~~~~~~~~~~
End note:
When I first started writing this, I was thinking of jounouchi, weird how similar Amelda and the bonkotsu can be when you’re describing them.

And yes, I think Kaiba was out of character in the fact that he had sex, with Amelda… hell with _anybody_.

Please review, and yes, I like all types, gimme that ruthless critique damnit!