Chapter Text
Yugi doesn’t remember being moved to the couch, and he knows damn well he never let go of Atem, who is shaking in his arms.
He is aware he’s no longer on the hard wood floor, though the thought is distant, somewhere in the far corner of his brain.
And Yugi isn't quite sure how much time they've spent glued together, either.
It could be seconds. It could be a lifetime.
But it doesn't matter.
There are much more pressing matters at hand.
Yugi feels fingernails digging into his back, Atem is clutching onto him so tightly. He’s pretty sure he’s doing the same to Atem.
Atem.
Yugi lifts his head, and violet eyes meet his for the second time that night.
There’s mascara and eyeliner running lines down Atem’s cheeks.
Yugi takes Atem’s face gently in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears still falling. He tries to wipe the fallen mascara away, too, but just makes it worse.
It makes him giggle.
Atem giggles back.
Atem’s laugh.
Yugi realizes he’s never truly heard it before.
It’s different on his ears than in his head. Purer. Happier, and bright. Like the strum of an acoustic guitar.
It could just be the most beautiful sound Yugi has ever heard.
He’s pulled out of the realization when he feels curious hands on his cheek. Atem returns the favor, swiping away Yugi’s ever falling tears.
Atem has the same success as Yugi at wiping away the smeared makeup. It makes him giggle again.
Yugi basks in the revel of getting to hear it once more.
And in the way the corners of Atem’s eyes crinkle when he smiles big like that.
Atem’s smile.
Yugi’s hands trail down Atem’s features. He lets his thumb run across Atem’s bottom lip, like he needs to confirm for himself that that smile is real.
That Atem is real.
Atem’s eyes blur for a moment.
Yugi forgets everything else.
A leg wraps around the small of Yugi’s back, drawing him closer still.
Atem leans forward, pressing his forehead to Yugi’s.
It’s like he can’t get close enough.
Yugi can’t either.
Atem’s eyes are right there.
Atem’s eyes.
He blinks, and Yugi can swear he feels Atem’s eyelashes brush his when he does.
Yugi looks into those eyes.
Yugi could fall into them.
Yugi could fall into them forever.
Then, a feather light touch that he immediately knows is not Atem’s breaks him out of it.
“Yugi…”
It’s Anzu’s voice, Yugi knows. It sounds like she’s been saying their name for a while.
No.
His name, he has to remind himself.
Yugi uses all the willpower he has to pull his eyes away. He turns his head to look at her.
Her hand is on his shoulder, but her eyes are locked on Atem. Tears fall down her shocked, still face.
“Yugi.”
Another voice says his name, one he’s never heard.
Yugi’s eyes drift to its owner, a tall girl with long, dark hair and dark, kind eyes.
She’s looking at him as if she’s looking at a ghost.
“He’s the ghost,” Yugi can’t help but say. “You should be looking at him like that.”
Then, Atem’s hands move again. One makes its way down Yugi’s back, sending chills up and down Yugi's spine.
The other trails up the nape of Yugi’s neck, deep into his hair. Atem takes a fistful, commanding Yugi’s eyes back to his.
Yugi wraps a leg around Atem, entangling them further still.
Atem pulls Yugi forward, into his chest. Yugi buries his face into his shoulder, breathing him in.
Atem’s scent.
It’s smoky, and spicy. Yugi can smell wine on him, and weed. He feels the dampness of his sweat.
It makes him ravenous.
Yugi’s hands fall back down Atem’s back, and he holds tight.
“Aibou.”
Atem speaks it low, and quiet, just for Yugi to hear.
Yugi feels the pet name stir deep in the pit of his stomach.
“My other self,” Yugi calls him. “Atem.”
Atem slowly stops shaking.
Eventually, Yugi does, too.
He is aware voices swirl around them.
He is aware people stop by to ask about them.
He is aware Anzu is here, too, and the other girl, who refuses to leave Atem’s side.
He’s aware of all of these things, however cloudy in his brain.
He couldn’t possibly care less, though.
Time passes, and slowly.
Their tears stop falling.
Slowly, their breath evens out.
Calm, and steady.
And slowly, their clutches become less desperate, less frantic, and softer, gentler.
Deliberate.
“Atem,” the girl’s kind voice floats into Yugi’s ear again.
Atem jumps in Yugi’s arms. It makes Yugi jump, too. He sees the girl’s hand on Atem’s shoulder.
Tears fall down her cheeks, too.
“I’m sorry,” Atem says.
Yugi can’t tell who to.
“Hi,” the girl says. Yugi doesn’t know who to.
He watches her.
She's sitting on the table in front of the couch, running a gentle hand up and down Anzu’s upper back, who sits beside her. Anzu's face is buried in her hands, and she’s crying.
Yugi can’t have that.
He frees a hand, and reaches towards her.
“Anzu,” Yugi says. He hears her name echo, as Atem speaks it simultaneously, causing Yugi’s heart to skip.
Yugi touches her knee. She looks up.
Tears are running down her face, but Yugi realizes.
She isn’t crying.
She’s laughing.
“What?” Yugi asks.
“What do you mean what?”
Before Yugi knows it, Anzu is on the couch with them, on top of them, pulling both Yugi and Atem into a suffocating hug.
And then she’s crying. “Yugi.”
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, Anzu,” Atem wheezes, though Yugi can hear the laugh in his voice.
Anzu lets out an ugly sob, then lets them go.
“I’m just so happy,” Anzu chokes out, collapsing back on the table. “I’m so happy.”
“Atem,” the other girl says. Atem looks at her. They exchange a small smile.
Yugi can tell, they’re speaking without words.
“This is Quinn,” Atem says, still looking into her eyes.
“I’m Quinn,” Quinn says, sniffling, looking at Yugi curiously. “I know you’re Yugi. That is very obvious.”
Yugi feels strange that she already knows about him, when he didn’t even know Atem was still alive.
His heart pounds.
Atem is still alive.
God.
Yugi can’t wrap his brain around it.
Atem is alive.
Atem is alive.
Atem is alive.
And he told this girl, Quinn, enough that she knows about him.
Atem is alive.
And Atem talks about him.
“This is Anzu,” Atem touches Anzu’s arm, giving her a warm smile. His touch sends another wave of sobs through her. She clutches his hand tight.
“I’ve heard all about you, too,” Quinn says. “It’s so nice to meet you both.”
It’s so sincere, the way she says it. Yugi immediately likes her.
“Wow,” Quinn whispers, almost to herself, as she looks back to Atem and Yugi.
“Do you believe me now?” Atem asks, the hint of an inside joke in his tone. He raises an eyebrow at her.
Yugi realizes it’s pierced.
And he has tattoos. They run up and down his arms, and one pokes out from his collarbone.
It’s slowly dawning.
Yugi looks at them.
Atem has a story here.
Atem has a life here.
Atem has had a life here.
All the while.
Yugi doesn’t have a life.
Not anymore.
Not since.
“I always believed you,” she says. She reaches out and tries to ruffle Atem’s hair.
“Do not.”
Yugi swallows.
“Oh my GOSH, it’s been fucking busy!” Another voice makes Yugi jump. “Tem, you won’t believe it, there was a dude here who looks JUST like you! I—I…“
Yugi looks up, twisting his head around to see the bartender standing behind him, frozen with her mouth wide open.
“Oh my God,” she says, shrill. “What is—?”
“Susie,” Atem cuts her off, giggling again. It makes Yugi’s chest pang. “This is Yugi.”
“Yugi?!” Susie gasps. “He’s real? You’re real?”
Atem looks sheepish. Quinn laughs, right from her belly.
“Omar!” Susie squeals, and scurries off. “OMAR!”
“We should probably take that as our cue to leave,” Atem says.
“He’s not kidding,” Quinn confirms.
Yugi doesn’t really know what to say. The adrenaline is rushing away as quickly as it came.
He and Atem untangle themselves, for the most part. Atem stands, pulling Yugi up with him. An arm stays tight around Yugi’s waist.
Atem pulls Anzu up, too. Anzu stands shakily, still looking at Atem as if he’ll break. She doesn’t let go of his hand.
“I’m sorry, I—Fuck,” Quinn sighs. “I gotta take care of the band stuff,” Quinn turns to Atem. “You know how they’ll get if we don’t strike before they close. Are you all…okay?”
“Yes,” Atem assures her.
She spares one more melting look between him and Yugi, then disappears into the thinning crowd.
Atem pulls Yugi and Anzu along.
The air is cooler outside, though still damp with humidity, as summer clings on to its final few weeks.
Yugi inhales deeply.
It’s sobering.
They barely make it down the block before Anzu stops suddenly, tugging on Atem’s hand.
“Anzu?” Atem says her name in unison with Yugi, once again.
Anzu inhales sharply as they do.
“Woah,” she exhales.
“What’s up?” Yugi asks alone.
“I think I…” She drops Atem’s hand, her eyes following it as it falls, as if she can’t believe she was ever holding it to begin with. “I think I need a—a moment. And I think…” Her eyes snap up to theirs. Her voice shakes, but just barely, as if she’s trying to stop it. “I think you should have one, too.”
Yugi catches the look in her eye.
A moment passes.
Yugi blinks.
And he realizes.
He has no clue how much time has passed.
How much time has passed since he first saw Atem again.
Nor how much time passed as they sat glued together on the couch.
It feels like a lifetime passed, but also like seconds.
Yugi feels odd.
Liminal.
Like nothing he does will count.
But this is real.
And it will.
The cool air really is sobering.
“I left my bags, too,” Anzu smiles, something small.
She takes a step backward, still looking between them. Something unreadable passes over her expression.
It makes Yugi nervous.
Yugi can’t read her.
When he usually can.
And then she spins on her heel, and goes back indoors without a second glance.
Yugi’s heart beats faster.
Atem’s hand is firm on Yugi’s side. His fingers splay over onto Yugi’s abdomen. Yugi places his hand on top of Atem’s.
And then they walk.
Yugi leans into Atem, and Atem leans back. They fit together like a puzzle.
Yugi’s cloudy brain is clearing.
And something is growing.
Deep in the pit of his stomach, he feels it.
Unwelcoming.
As they walk.
Atem is silent.
As is Yugi.
It’s not uncomfortable.
Actually.
It’s almost too familiar.
And Yugi wonders what Atem could be thinking.
And feeling.
Yugi wonders.
And wonders.
He has questions.
He has so many.
He wonders how Atem would answer, if he asked.
Yugi thinks.
As they walk.
And Yugi knows.
Yugi knows exactly what Atem would say.
But Yugi doesn’t know if he would like it.
Atem walks.
Yugi stops.
The suddenness of it makes Atem trip. He catches himself on Yugi, the force swinging him around, so that they face each other.
Someone brushes by them, cursing at them for blocking his way.
Yugi barely hears it.
Atem looks at Yugi, and knows.
He knows exactly what Yugi will ask.
“I’m sorry,” Atem says. And means it.
He searches Yugi’s eyes.
“For what?” Yugi asks.
“I left you.”
Yugi places a hand on Atem’s chest.
“I made you leave.”
Atem covers it with his.
“No, you didn’t.”
Atem can feel his heartbeat through Yugi’s hand.
“You didn’t want to duel, Atem.”
“No,” Atem sighs. “I didn’t.”
“And I made you.”
“No."
“We had to,” they admit together.
Yugi feels Atem’s heart beat, and the rise and fall of his chest.
“That’s not your fault,” Atem says.
“It’s not your fault, either,” Yugi replies.
A moment passes between them. Atem pushes on the small of Yugi’s back, drawing him closer.
And he looks, really looks, into Yugi’s eyes.
And his stomach drops.
He sees it there, what Yugi has really been wanting to ask.
Atem’s heart beats faster.
Atem doesn’t know if he’s ready.
“What happened?”
Yugi asks the question. It comes out low, and knowing.
And for a brief second, Atem hates himself.
How long has he spent selfishly wondering if he’ll ever be ready?
Ready for Yugi.
All the while.
Yugi has been grieving.
Thinking he’s gone.
Thinking he died.
“Why are you here, Atem?”
Yugi is here.
God.
It takes Atem’s breath away.
Atem wonders, as he struggles to breathe, what Yugi was actually doing these past few years.
He doesn’t need to wonder though.
It’s in the way Yugi asks.
And in the way Yugi looks at him.
Atem already knows.
And it hurts.
“I’m sorry,” Atem says.
“For what?” Yugi asks, as if it doesn’t.
But Atem knows.
It hurts.
And he did it.
“For putting you through that.”
Atem blinks. Yugi watches the tear fall slowly down his cheek, though he isn’t really even crying.
“You’re alive.” Yugi’s voice cracks.
“And I didn’t tell you.”
Yugi swallows. He knows he’ll break, soon.
“Why not?” Yugi asks.
It hurts, what Atem did.
It hurts.
And Yugi hates it.
“I wasn’t ready to face you.”
Yugi hates what Atem did.
“Why?”
It's barely above a whisper.
Atem looks.
And Atem looks. Deep into Yugi’s wide, beautiful, trusting eyes.
And he realizes, as he watches that tear fall down Yugi’s cheek.
It scares him, as it dawns on him.
He doesn’t know.
He doesn’t know if Yugi will understand.
He doesn’t know what Yugi will do.
For the first time in his life.
Because he left Yugi.
And Yugi is his own person now.
Just like Atem, he’s had years to grow.
And change.
Atem sees it, in the way Yugi stands. In the way Yugi stares, with intention, and intensity, and patience.
Yugi has changed.
Atem doesn’t know the same Yugi.
But he still knows Yugi.
“Because you’re you,” Atem says. His voice shakes, and he doesn’t try to stop it. “Because you’re good. And kind. And strong.”
Yugi is silent.
“You’re your own, Yugi. And you’re proud.”
Yugi listens.
“And I’m not.”
Atem knows he’s listening.
“I was ashamed,” Atem confesses. “I’ve never been my own. I’ve never had my own choices. I didn’t know how to do it. And I was scared,” Atem swallows. “If I couldn’t become my own like you, and strong like you, that I would disappoint you.” Atem feels his breath quicken, but his heartbeat steadies, as he tells Yugi. “I couldn’t bear to disappoint you.”
“I don’t understand.”
Yugi says it, but Atem saw the shift in Yugi’s gaze.
“Yes,” Atem says, with complete certainty. “You do.”
And Yugi hates it.
He hates that Atem is right.
Because he completely and wholly understands.
Atem was dependent on Yugi for so long. And after millenia of nothing, of having nothing, and being nothing, how could Yugi blame Atem for such dependance?
And how could Yugi blame him for wanting independence?
It makes Yugi sad, that Atem went through that.
And that he missed it.
And yet, he understands.
But.
Yugi is still angry.
He thought Atem died.
And he grieved.
He screamed.
He mourned.
And cried.
And just began to move on.
And now Atem is back, and alive, and in his arms, his heart beating into their hands.
And it’s too much.
It hurts.
Yugi wants to blame him.
But, he can’t.
But Yugi needs to blame someone.
And so.
“I blame myself,” Yugi confesses, his breath catching.
Atem’s heart sinks, as he realizes what Yugi is saying.
“Yugi,” Atem asks, low. “What do you blame yourself for?”
Yugi doesn’t break his gaze.
“You died again,” Yugi says. “Because of me. Because of my decision.”
“No."
Yugi’s soft hand lands on Atem’s cheek. Yugi’s eyes search his.
“I thought I killed you again.”
“No,” Atem covers Yugi’s hand with his. “You give me life, Yugi."
Yugi is crying. “I thought I...”
“Yugi…”
“I didn’t know,” Yugi is crying, yet is completely in control. “I didn’t know you were alive. And you couldn’t tell me,” Yugi takes a step closer.
“I’m sorry,” Atem says.
“I understand,” Yugi says.
"I know," Atem searches Yugi's eyes. “You don't need to blame yourself for anything, Yugi." Yugi’s eyes are rapt. "You never did."
And then Yugi's eyes soften. And his shoulders drop. And he breathes as if his breath just returned. As if he just lay down something heavy after carrying it for a long, long time.
"Neither do you," Yugi says, after a moment. "Atem."
Atem holds him.
“I just wanted to be someone who could make you proud.”
The world spins around them, but they hold each other still.
“Make me proud?” Yugi retorts. “That’s so silly.”
“It’s not,” Atem insists.
“It is,” Yugi insists in return. “You never had to make me proud of you.”
Atem’s hold changes.
“Because I’m always proud of you,” Yugi says.
Atem’s hold loosens.
“I’ve always been proud of you, Atem,” Yugi says.
Atem’s knees hit the pavement.
“And I love you.”
Atem cries.
“I’m sorry,” Atem apologizes. And apologizes, and apologizes.
His hands clutch Yugi’s wide, black jeans.
And he sobs.
“I missed you,” Yugi says, low, into his ear.
Atem pulls his eyes up, off of Yugi’s red laced boots.
Yugi squats in front of him, his hands land on Atem’s.
Atem takes them. Yugi pulls him up, with strong arms, until he’s standing, and draws him close. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Atem says. “Aibou.”
Atem looks into Yugi’s eyes.
“My other self.”
And Yugi looks into Atem’s.
Their gaze locks together, like a puzzle.
This whole time.
Atem thinks he’s known.
This whole time.
That Yugi loved him.
How Yugi loved him.
The truth has always been there, deep within that knowing thing inside of him.
He already knew he loved Yugi.
He just needed to love himself.
He thinks he'll work on that.
And it makes him feel free, for the first time in his life.
And he thinks now, he’s ready.
Yugi.
“You came.” Just like Atem knew he would.
Yugi smiles.
“Let’s go home.”
.
.
.
The train car is almost empty where they get on. It fills more and more with each stop. Atem tells Yugi they’re on the L train. Yugi hums in response, leaning his head against Atem’s shoulder. His eyes drift shut as Atem leans back. His arm falls across Yugi’s shoulders.
The train sways and stops and starts. Yugi listens to the stops as the conductor announces them, above the buzz of blurry conversation.
When they reach Grand Street, Atem stands, pulling Yugi up with him.
They walk up the stairs, and into the night.
Yugi glances around them.
It’s quiet here.
Peaceful.
And the buildings are smaller here. They huddle close together, and barely reach a few stories high.
The shop windows on the main street are dark, and some of the streetlights are out. Yet, it still feels warm, and welcoming.
They walk in sync, in silence, for a short while.
Atem turns Yugi down a side street, and then another. The trees grow bigger with each block, and the houses and apartment buildings begin to boast fire escapes, and old brick, and weathered siding.
Atem leads Yugi up to a beautiful red brick building. The fire escapes are rusted, yet decorated. With plants, and flags, and laundry.
Yugi can hear how heavy the front door is when Atem turns the key. The lock shifts with a loud thunk. He separates himself from Yugi for a brief moment, using his bodyweight to push it open.
The hallway is lit with a warm light overhead, and a giant, ornate mirror next to the mailboxes greets them.
Atem turns to shove the door shut. He grunts as it closes.
Yugi watches him in the mirror.
The door slam echoes around the tall ceilings, and then it’s silent.
Atem catches Yugi’s eye in the mirror.
And then their heads turn, and they catch each other’s eyes.
They stare into that mirror.
Atem brings his hand to Yugi’s face.
Yugi brings his hand to Atem’s.
Yugi notices there are differences in their appearance.
But at first glance.
Yugi takes a strand of Atem’s hair, and wraps it around his finger, smiling.
“You kept the bleach,” Yugi says.
Atem smiles at Yugi.
“You did have some fashion sense, after all.”
His hand traces the bridge of Yugi’s nose.
It's crooked.
Atem wonders when he broke it, feeling sad.
He shakes it off, though, knowing he’ll get to hear that memory told, in time.
He takes Yugi’s hand, and pulls him along.
They climb flights of creaky, uneven, wooden stairs. By the time they reach the top apartment, they’re breathing heavily.
They tug off their boots, abandoning them on an overflowing rack on the landing. Atem giggles when Yugi almost falls over, and catches him by the elbows.
It makes Yugi’s knees weak, and he almost falls all over again.
Instead, Yugi watches Atem search his busy keychain. It’s full of keys, of course, but also of trinkets, and homemade things, and even more keys.
Yugi wonders where all those keys could possibly go.
He finds the right one, and opens the door, letting Yugi in first.
Yugi steps inside.
The smell of juniper hits him immediately. And palo santo, and patchouli. Somewhere underneath those smells, he can smell weed, too.
It almost makes him laugh.
The living room is small. A couch with mismatched cushions and pillows and stuffed animals sits in the middle, facing a television mounted to the wall they entered from. The TV glows, and flashes, but is muted. Orange and pink shag rugs cover the floor.
A gallery kitchen lines the wall across from them. The sink is overflowing with colorful mugs and dishes, though it isn’t quite disastrous yet. A cutting board with abandoned carrot and pepper tops lives on the counter, next to what Yugi assumes is a fancy coffee apparatus.
A card game lies abandoned, half played on the small dining table, next to red stained wine glasses and a tray of candles.
And warm fairy lights are strung around the ceiling, falling down the brick wall to their right, where jackets and pictures and artwork hang from hooks and nails.
Yugi barely gets a moment to admire it all before Atem is pulling him along once again.
They enter the narrow hallway across the living room, and Atem leads Yugi down it. More artwork and drawings and photos line the wall, and Yugi notices the delicate pattern on the runner. Yugi sees Atem’s socks mismatch, as he looks at it.
They go through the last door.
Yugi blinks, then blinks again, and it hits him.
Where he is.
Atem’s bedroom.
It feels intimate.
And familiar.
Like he's been here many times before.
Ornate, colorful tapestries line the walls, in blues, and oranges, and greens. Candles litter every surface.
A wooden desk in the corner holds a banker’s lamp and countless notebooks and sketchbooks. A few pens are scattered on the desk, and on the floor around it.
A wardrobe in the corner is cracked open, though Yugi wonders why Atem would even bother with such a thing. It seems as if his entire closet lives on the floor instead, save for some hoodies thrown on his bed.
Atem’s bed.
It rests in the corner, low to the ground. The comforter is a deep, luxurious green, and it’s full of more throw pillows than any human would ever need, and a few woven throw blankets, too.
Yugi walks up to Atem’s antique dresser, just next to his bed. It’s covered in ornate stone bowls, which overflow with jewelry. Rings, and necklaces, and earrings. And chains.
An ashtray holds more than a few filters, as well, and a pink bong that looks extremely out of place sits next to it.
Yugi feels Atem’s eyes on the back of his head.
Yugi turns around, facing him.
He looks at him.
And it hits him again.
This disbelief.
Atem is alive.
And here.
Just in front of him.
Atem reaches his hand out.
He looks almost scared, Yugi thinks, as if Yugi will disappear at his touch.
But he doesn’t.
Atem takes Yugi’s hand, and pulls him down on his bed.
Yugi sits.
Atem climbs over his many pillows, and grips the window pane with both hands. He opens it, not without effort.
“Shouldn’t you have a bug screen on that?” Yugi asks, before he can stop himself.
Atem pauses, already halfway out the window. His head hits the window pane when he turns it to look at Yugi. Disbelief is all over his face.
“Well, then we couldn’t do this.”
Atem pulls his other leg through, and he’s out. Yugi follows. Atem lends him a hand for balance as he crawls out onto the fire escape.
Yugi stumbles a little, and hears the structure rattle. He must pull some face, because Atem laughs next to him, making Yugi’s knees weak all over again.
Atem sits, pulling Yugi down with him. He reaches behind them, stretching his arm out to grab one of his throw blankets through the window.
He wraps them in it, and they lean back.
Yugi lets his head fall against the brick wall behind him. He gazes up at the starless sky.
It’s clear above them.
Yugi listens to the sound of cicadas below them.
Atem shuffles next to Yugi, and Yugi lets his head fall to the side.
Atem has a cigarette resting between his lips. He notices Yugi looking, and offers Yugi the pack.
He raises that pierced eyebrow, too.
Yugi reaches for the lighter in Atem's other hand instead. Atem almost drops his cigarette when Yugi’s fingers brush his.
Yugi flicks the lighter. It ignites after a small fight with the wind. Yugi has to guard it.
Atem reaches forward, taking Yugi’s wrist. He guides it, and inhales deeply as it catches.
He exhales, away from Yugi.
But Yugi pulls Atem closer, by the wrist Atem doesn't let go of, and takes the cigarette from between Atem's fingers.
Yugi holds it between his own delicately, and inhales smoothly, as if he's done it a million times before.
Atem releases his hold on Yugi’s wrist, only to hold Yugi’s hand instead.
Their fingers intertwine.
He catches Yugi’s eyes.
Yugi’s eyes.
Yugi’s face is close.
And then his hand is on Yugi’s cheek, once again.
He holds it.
And looks into Yugi’s eyes.
Yugi breathes.
Atem can feel the smoke on his lips.
His thumb traces down Yugi’s jawline, until he can use it to tilt Yugi’s head back, ever so slightly.
And Yugi’s hand trails up, into the nape of Atem’s neck. He takes a fistful of hair, commanding Atem’s head down.
And then, Atem can taste the cigarette smoke, too.
And his breath catches.
And his heartbeat slows.
Yugi’s kiss is gentle.
Like the first raindrops of spring.
Or the dewdrops, which cling to blades of grass.
And fall, so the thirsty earth can drink again.
Gentle.
But not hesitant.
Not at all.
Purposeful.
Yugi’s lips part.
Atem’s kiss is hungry.
Yet satiating.
As if his whole life.
All of it.
Has led up to this moment.
This moment.
Yugi doesn’t know how long it lasts.
Atem doesn’t know either.
It doesn’t matter, anyway.
Atem’s hand falls down Yugi’s face, down his neck, and down his chest.
Yugi’s grip on Atem’s hair releases, and his hand falls down the back of Atem's neck, landing there, so that he can kiss Atem properly,
Atem kisses back.
And forth.
Until neither knows who is in charge, or when.
Until they run out of air, and have to part.
Atem’s breath is warm on Yugi’s lips.
“It went out,” Yugi breathes, just audible, his eyes not even an inch away from Atem’s. “The cigarette.”
“That’s okay,” Atem grins back. “There’s more where that came from.”
And so they sit. With each other, against each other, exchanging smoke, and kisses, and words, and stories, and little nothings, until the first rays of sun break through the cracks in the buildings across the quiet Brooklyn backyards, and soothe the tired earth.
They watch the rays travel across the gardens below them, until it's shining into their eyes.
They take that as their cue, and crawl back through the window, back inside.
Wordlessly, Atem takes Yugi under the covers with him.
He pulls Yugi in tight, burying his face into Yugi’s purple hair, as Yugi sleepily talks about more little nothings, which mean everything.
Just as Atem's about to drift off, something cold in Yugi’s hair brushes against his cheek.
Atem frees a hand to pull it out.
Yugi turns a little, pausing his story, to see what Atem is doing.
“It’s my ring,” Atem says, with a chuckle. “My ring was stuck in your hair.”
Yugi giggles back, his hand searching the back of his head, as if he'll find another.
Atem watches.
Yugi expects Atem to roll over and toss it into one of the many bowls on his dresser, but instead.
He sits up.
And looks down at the ring curiously.
Yugi looks up at Atem curiously.
“Come here.”
Yugi does.
He sits up.
"You told me earlier," Atem speaks slowly, his eyes down, "that you loved me."
Then, Atem raises his eyes, and meets Yugi's. They are so open.
"I want to show you," Atem says.
Then, Atem takes Yugi’s hand, and gently slides the golden band on his finger.
His eyes are so bright, Yugi thinks.
Atem speaks.
”My love for you, too.”
And his eyes never leaving Atem's, not even to spare a glance at the ring Atem just gave him, Yugi takes Atem’s hand in his, and pulls him back down into the pillows.
And he kisses him.
And kisses him.
And tell him how he loves him.
And Atem kisses Yugi, too.
And tells him how he loves him.
Until they drift off.
And fall asleep
Deep asleep.
In each other’s arms.
They fit together like a puzzle.
And for the first time.
Ever since.
Yugi sleeps.
Without stirring,
Without waking.
Without a care in the world.
Yugi sleeps.
And sleeps.
And sleeps.