Still

Still

Summary: Sometimes it helps to simply be and feel your life.
Disclaimer: I don’t own YGO.
Warning: I dunno why I did this. If it sucks…Okay.



He lay there unmoving. The artificial air gliding over his skin in patterns as the ceiling fans whirred in an unending loop. The clock glared an unhealthy red, telling him it was well past ten a.m. but he really didn’t care.

He blinked and turned over, curling into the warmth he had created, his sea foam green hair falling into his eyes and along his jaw. It tickled, but he knew the sensation would go away soon. He couldn’t seem to muster enough energy to move his hand to get at it. Not that he cared.

He didn’t care if he didn’t have to move for the rest of his life he was in so much pain.

Bruises graced his abdomen and back, one in the shape of a boot print. Blue eyes leaked crystal tears of woe that no one would see and soft petal pink lips moaned softly in notes no one would ever hear.

He gazed across the room, or tried to as his vision was no good. He would have gotten his glasses, but they’d been crushed yesterday. The golden beetle snapping off and into the grass.

Yesterday.

More muted cries. He curled up again and dug his fingers into his pillow.

Yesterday they’d beaten him and if he went back they’d do it again. Just like before, just like they had for almost everyday he’d been back.

It was enough that he’d lost the duel. He’d lost many since going to that stupid island. But to come back to regular life and be preyed upon…

It was too much.

Another clock on the wall, tick tocked away. The antennae of the bug gracing its center moved slowly, counting the seconds. It was oddly soothing to him, even though he could barely see it.

He knew he’d have to get up sometime. He would have to get new glasses. He would have to go to work. He would have to go and ask for his homework.

But right now, he just wanted to be. He wanted his pain to go away.

Haga lay in bed crying, knowing that would never happen.

After Battle City, he’d gone back to normal high school, expecting to have a normal life and normal friends. He quickly found out he was dead wrong.

It wasn’t that people hated him, oh no. He was just teased, taunted, and beaten every day because this is what happened to “his kind” on a normal everyday basis.

He still hadn’t discovered what was wrong with knowing every answer and having high marks, but he’d learned to shut up. He didn’t know why he wasn’t allowed to sit where he wanted in the cafeteria or auditorium, but he’d learned to stay in his place. He didn’t know why he wasn’t allowed to look at certain people, but he’d learned to keep his eyes to the ground.

Haga was smart. He was a genius. One didn’t memorize all the Latin names of every insect species in the known world and not be smart. He just wasn’t quick. It took time for him to realize social order; it took beatings.

But he learned.

He learned to accept the daily pain of his bruises, he learned to accept the invisibility and silence he was forced into, he learned to accept loneliness. Maybe he’d even begun to like it.

But laying in bed now, tears running down his face, hands clutching fistfuls of sheets that would give no comfort, no emotional purchase, he realized he hadn’t begun to like it at all and it was eating him from the inside like a parasite.


Sometime passed and he sat up. His hair brushing his jaw again. He briefly thought about a haircut, then let it fly from his mind.

No more bowl cuts for him. He liked his hair this way. It was short in the back like it always was, but now his hair had wings. Long and sharp, like those of a mantis.

He wiped his tears, palms fumbling at dried tear tracks and left the bed. He didn’t turn on the lamp nor the room light. He wanted it dark. He didn’t need to see. He knew what was there and he knew if he turned on the lights and looked in the mirror he would see what he didn’t like.

No one did.

He entered the bathroom and turned on the fluorescent light with in, happy to open the medicine cabinet. The mirror had long since been removed. Taking out a bottle of aspirin, he took two and drank some water, relieving himself after wards.

He washed his hands and wondered at the white of the porcelain sink, the shine of the cold and hot water knobs, then let the thoughts retreat. It was not important.

Nothing ever was really.

He would’ve considered a shower, if he could move his arms at all and instead moved back to the bed, taking up the phone. He dialed a number and waited, forcing his mouth into words after so long a silence.

“It’s Haga…yes…no, this time I’d like something new…yes actually…then I’ll be by later…no, nothing’s wrong…right. Six…well, glasses break all the time, I just happen to be woefully careless with mine…no, no beetle…that’s right…see you soon then. Goodbye.”

He hung up the phone and guided his bruised body back onto the bed, pulling the sheets over him with effort. He curled on his side and stared at the clock.

It blazed five minutes to eleven on a Tuesday seconds approaching fifty nine. He closed his eyes and let more tears come.

All the time in the world could pass and he still wouldn’t care.

****

*I would like to thank Muzaki_Goddess for inspiring this fic. I could really careless if people like it. This story wants to get out of me and if I have to put Summer Time Magic on the shelf, then, so be it.
*Calling all writers! I need some help. I’m starting a Neko fic and would like information. Anything on Neko fics. Breeding, societies that have them, anything. I’m having trouble setting up my world though I know who my characters are. HELP HELP!
*This isn’t the end!