Work Text:
On a fateful day Atem left and it broke many hearts. Months followed and felt like ages, wounds turned to scars and tears ran dry. Sun-kissed memories remained, but nothing could compare to this.
Atem is here, filling his heart to the brim, and it completes him in a way it never did before; for there was a time Yuugi Mutou wasn’t strong on his own, and this time has now passed.
Waves of emotion come crashing over him, over them, emotions they do not have the time to name nor would want to, not just yet. Yuugi gasps for air and tears want to fall but firmly stay in place, because he can’t afford to cry, of all things, when he has so many questions to ask.
“Atem, how did you—You weren’t in the puzzle—”
The Pharaoh, ever regal in the dawn of a world coming back to life, spoke softly.
“I sensed you were in danger, and thus reached out to you. Are you okay, partner?”
(There was a tremor in his voice Yuugi couldn’t miss, for they shared a heart once again, and have been for so long.)
“I’ll be fine,” he replies, relieved beyond words for reasons left unsaid. “Thank you, Atem. You saved us all.”
“No,” counters Atem, eyes ever gentle yet steady. “You did the fighting, I merely helped you dealing the final blow.”
Yuugi couldn’t help but smile in earnest, and the warmth it brought to their conjointed souls felt like a raging fire, after everything.
(After everything being so cold and silent and empty.)
“I’m glad you’re here, Atem. I—How are you?”
“Overjoyed to have seen you once again, partner,” says the King, and while his feelings are true to his words – always were – he seems restless. “Although I shall leave shortly, and I believe taking the puzzle with me is the safest course of action to protect you and our friends.”
(For Pharaoh Atem, Lord of the Two Lands and High Priest of Every Temple, shall protect whom he holds so dear in death and the afterlife still.)
“I understand,” replies Yuugi, even though doubt was hazily creeping at his heart. “Atem, I—Will we be able to meet again without it, though?”
Feeling no need to consider this – for the answer was plain as day – Atem offers a rare smile of his own.
“You said it yourself: I wasn’t in the puzzle.”
The Pharaoh then pauses, seemingly unsure on how to convey what Yuugi could already feel through their shared bond. Yet, words had power.
“You’ve grown stronger, Yuugi,” eventually adds Atem, pride clear in his voice and heart. “You may not need me anymore b-but—if someday you do, I’ll be here. Always.”
Yuugi nods, unwavering, before gazing into his partner’s eyes one final time, hoping perhaps for the moment to last if only a little longer.
(He sees sadness in there, mirroring his own, but says nothing about it. They both know.)
When his heart feels hollow once more, Yuugi Mutou repeats that last word to himself, and himself alone.
“Always.”