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Lungs burning, heart racing, legs aching, none of these are new sensations to Mokuba. Neither is his current situation, which happens to be running away from a group of armed men who want who-knows-what from him and his brother. He can't count the number of times he's been kidnapped, beaten, threatened, blackmailed, or extorted due to the weight of the Kaiba name which he carries. Running through the streets of Domino for their safety is actually pretty commonplace at this point, especially on evenings when they're on their own.
The rain makes the ground slick, and Mokuba feels his sneakers slip slightly as he takes a sharp turn around a corner. He throws a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Seto's still with him, grinning at the sight of his brother at his heels as he runs. He turns his sight back forward and can't fight the laughter that bubbles up out of his chest and tumbles past his lips. Once, when they were younger, Mokuba had told Seto that he found it fun and exciting whenever they had to deal with enemies. Seto had just looked at him like he was crazy, and Mokuba wondered if one day he would grow out of the thrill in his veins during moments like these. Well, he's twenty years old and he still feels that rush within him when his life is on the line. Guess being kidnapped constantly as a child has affected him more than he's realized.
They only make it a quarter of the way down the street before a familiar hand grabs his collar roughly and he lets Seto drag him into the darkness of a narrow alley to their right. The two of them press their backs to the brick behind them as they try to catch their breath, and Mokuba finds himself grateful for the white noise of the downpour around them as it muffles the sound of their heavy breathing. Seto's hand doesn't move and his arm stays planted across Mokuba's chest, solid and protective even as Seto turns his attention to peek around the corner.
Mokuba looks down at his brother's arm with a small smile. He's faster, craftier, and far more scrappy than Seto, making him the one who is most likely to be able to handle himself in tense situations, and yet Seto still feels the need to shield him. Forever the protective older brother. Suddenly, his gaze locks on something; a line of black ink peeking out above the sleeve of Seto's turtleneck. Hesitantly, he reaches for Seto's arm, turning it slightly so he can see the man's wrist a bit better. Seto pays him no mind, letting his brother do what he wants while he keeps his attention on the street that runs past their hiding place. Mokuba pushes Seto's sleeve up slightly, revealing the sight of a faded and uneven symbol painting the skin of Seto's wrist.
Surprise jolts through Mokuba at the sight, shaking him through to his core. Soulmarks are commonplace among humans, showing up at the moment you turn eighteen, but Mokuba has never seen his brother with a soulmark. Seto had always claimed he never got a mark. He always said that he didn't have a soulmate and he never would, showing off the blank and unmarked skin of his wrist as proof of his lack of a partner. Mokuba had always found it strange, but he could never argue with his brother's words in the face of the man's lack of a soulmate mark.
But now he can see it, plain as day. The mark is patchy and incomplete, with faded lines and unconnected paths, making it look like random strokes of a brush rather than an identifying mark. It's only when Mokuba notices the smudges on Seto's sleeve, colored in the same tone as the man's skin. Coverup. Seto's been lying about his soulmark and hiding it with makeup to make people think he doesn't have a matching soulmate.
It's so like Seto to lock away parts of himself, especially those parts that might seem vulnerable or raw, but the idea of Seto lying about this for all these years twists something in Mokuba's chest. Sure it's Seto's choice and his own secret to keep, but Mokuba can't help the sharp sting of betrayal, not can he fight the tug of insistent curiosity within him. He mentally pushes away the ache in his chest as he pulls his own sleeve up into his palm and reaches to rub the fabric at Seto's wrist. The rain, sweat, and friction all make the coverup come off easily, and the full design of the mark slowly shows itself.
He blinks down at the symbol he sees on the inside of Seto's wrist: the twisting black ink that resembles the shape of two dragons intertwined. His heart nearly stops in his chest as he stares, taking in the sight of a mark that's viscerally familiar. He's seen this pattern before, more times than he can possibly count, but not on his brother's wrist. On his own.
"Seto," Mokuba says, voice tense and strained as his eyes stay locked on the mark and the heavy weight of its meaning.
No sooner has the name left his lips than Seto wrenches his hand away from him. Mokuba's eyes snap over to Seto, taking in the sight of his brother holding his arm to his chest, as if guarding his secret from Mokuba's prying gaze. They lock eyes, and the look Mokuba finds there is unlike anything he's ever seen in his brother. He used to Seto being the cool and collected one, only ever showing intense emotion when it's confidence or vigor. He's not used to seeing a desperate fear there, twinged with horror and panic creeping in at the corners.
"You told me you didn't have a soulmate," Mokuba states, willing his voice not to shake or tremble.
Seto doesn't say anything, and that just makes the anger and betrayal spike in his chest, acidic and bitter. Because Seto does have a soulmate. And it's Mokuba. There's no way Seto couldn't have known. Mokuba had shown off his soulmark to Seto the moment he got it, grinning like a fool and bouncing on his heels with excitement. Seto must have known at that moment, and instead of telling the truth, he had turned his back on him. For two years, Seto's been hiding this from him, covering his mark so that Mokuba would never find out about them. That they're meant to be together.
It's obvious from Seto's expression that he never meant for Mokuba to find out the truth, and Mokuba thinks bitterly that maybe that would have been so much better than this. If he had never found out, he could have at least gone through the rest of his life thinking that he and his soulmate just never found each other. He could have spent his days blaming the universe and circumstance. Now, he doesn't have anything to pin it on. Now, he knows the truth: his soulmate doesn't want him. Seto doesn't want him. The most important person in the world to him is his soulmate, and he doesn't even want to be with him.
Mokuba swallows hard around the lump in his throat, willing away the prickling behind his eyes. He feels hollow and empty, like there's a part missing from him that can never be put back. His hands ball into fists as he tries to get his emotions under control, but he never was as good as Seto and Gozaburo at these things. He's always been open and honest about his feelings, and now he's finally seeing why his stepfather tried to teach them how bad of a trait it is.
"Nii-sama, what's going on?" he manages out between gritted teeth.
Another thing that Gozaburo tried to teach them to banish was hope, but once again the lesson never stuck for the younger Kaiba. He hopes desperately for some other explanation for this, even though he can formulate no such thing in his own mind. He begs silently for some other motive behind his brother's actions, some justification that doesn't involve him being completely and utterly rejected by the one who's supposed to love him unconditionally. Rainwater seeps under his collar, slowly soaking him and tracing a chill down his spine that is nothing compared to the numbing cold in the center of heart.
Seto breaks their eye contact and fixes his gaze on the wall across from them, pointedly not looking towards Mokuba. The scene they were running away from is all but forgotten in the reveal of this new information. Some armed enemies seem so insignificant in the wake of the knowledge that Mokuba just obtained. They've crossed some threshold now, one that they can never return from.
"We're soulmates," Seto responds, voice flat and monotone, if not a bit strained.
Anger rises up inside of Mokuba once again, and this time he can't fight it. The world goes red with his emotions, and wavy with the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me !" Mokuba yells, punctuating his words with a two-handed shove to Seto's chest.
Seto stumbles back with the force of the push, clearly looking caught off-guard by his brother's sudden aggression. Sure, Mokuba's gotten fired up around him before, but it has never been targeted to viscerally and violently at Seto himself. Mokuba closes the distance that's appeared between them, stepping right up into Seto's space, but he's never felt more far away from his brother than he does right now. He grits his teeth and tries his best to stop the tears from falling, even as they continue to prickle his eyes with the force of all of his emotions. Anger, betrayal, desperation, pain, rejection... all filling him up and causing every beat of his heart to jolt and ache in his chest.
"You knew," Mokuba states, voice rising even louder as he jabs his finger into Seto's chest to punctuate his words, "you knew , and you never said a word, Seto!"
Seto at least has the decency to look a bit ashamed at that. This wasn't solely his secret to keep, and he's been deceiving his brother since the moment Mokuba turned 18. No, since before then. Since Seto himself got his soulmark and decided to hide it from the world and from his brother.
"We're brothers," Seto insists, like that fact hasn't been the one single constant in both of their lives throughout the years, "I knew it w-"
Mokuba doesn't even let Seto finish the rest of his sentence. He doesn't have the patience or the heart to keep his thoughts to himself right now.
"You didn't want me before you even knew it was me," he yells, feeling the warmth of his tears finally mix with the cool rain on his cheeks, "and when you found out, it didn't change a thing. You still didn't- you still don't want me."
Seto's gaze turns back to Mokuba, but it only remains there for a minute before he turns to stare off at nothing. Mokuba watches the heavy rise and fall of Seto's chest, and he can practically see the gears turning in his brother's head. Mokuba has spent nearly his whole life at Seto's side, and he knows how to read him better than anyone. This is Seto composing himself, shoving down all of his emotions and feelings to have a cold, clinical conversation with someone based on facts and figures.
Mokuba doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to listen to the emotionless words of his brother while he's fighting not to completely fall apart where he stands. He doesn't need to hear Seto explain with ice in his voice all of the meaning that Mokuba has already gleaned from his actions. There's no doubt within him that he won't be able to handle it, so he decides not to stick around. He turns on his heel back the way they came, and starts to leave. Running away from your problems isn't the way to solve them, but there's no doubt in his mind that sticking around isn't going to fix this specific problem. Nothing can fix it.
He's barely taken two strides before he's being stopped by a hand gripping his wrist and his name off of Seto's lips. The burning behind his eyes only gets worse as the vice around his heart tightens. Everything is spinning and his breaths start coming shallower and shallower, making his vision swim. He yanks his wrist out of Seto's grasp, and Seto lets him go without resistance. He wants to put distance between them, but all of a sudden his feet feel nailed to the ground and his knees shake with the effort of keeping him up.
The ground cold and hard under his knees make contact with it, the rainwater soaking his jeans instantly. The anger within him is still bubbling under the surface, but the cold numbing pain in his chest quells the potent burning that had been blazing within him moments ago. He hangs his head, hiding his face as his shoulders shake with the force of the sobs that fight their way out of him. He feels so pathetic and young, crying like a child on the ground. Seto would never be weak enough to let himself break down like this, not even in the presence of his brother.
"Mokie," Seto murmurs, crouching down next to his brother and speaking in a voice meant to comfort.
Acid burns the back of Mokuba's throat at the nickname and his reaction is immediate. He reaches a hand out blindly to his side, finding purchase on Seto's shoulder and shoving at him weakly.
"D-don't call me that," he bites out, voice broken and wavering.
He feels like such a crybaby. He feels pitiful and small, like nothing but a little kid throwing a tantrum. This is how Seto sees him and will always see him, isn't it? Not as a potential partner to stand by his side, but rather as his hopeless little brother that he needs to care for and protect. Pinpricks of pain bloom on his knees where his nails are biting into his skin through his jeans, but he doesn't care. He thinks he tastes the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, but he doesn't care. His head pounds with the force of his emotions, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about any of it; all he cares about is how hopeless and unworthy he feels. Unwanted. Forsaken.
A weight falls over his shoulders, and it takes him a minute to realize that it's Seto draping his arm around him. This time, he doesn't have the energy to fight and push his brother away, especially when there's a part of him that wants nothing more than to turn towards Seto and hide himself within his brother's comfort. Forever the weak and needy younger brother.
"Just focus on breathing. Slowly," Seto instructs, voice dropping low, "breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth."
Mokuba tries his best to follow directions, sucking in a heavy breath through his nose. It comes out in a shaky and uneven rush of breath, doing nothing to calm his amped up and overwhelmed senses. A heavy sob wracks his chest, and he only trembles worse as his next few breaths come out shallow and desperate. He tries to think about his breathing, but all he can focus on is the helplessness he feels within him.
It takes him a moment to register the feeling of a touch on his hand as careful fingers try to loosen the bruising grip on his knee. He lets Seto coax his fingers to uncurl, and then feels the warmth of another hand in his, fingers threading between each other easily. Mokuba clings to Seto's hand desperately, unable to prevent the tight grip he locks on with. He knows he must be hurting his brother, but he can't get his body to respond enough to even breathe properly, let alone control his grip. For a moment, Seto's grip goes tighter before loosening again, and somewhere in Mokuba's chaos-wracked brain, he recognizes it as a squeeze of acknowledgement, or perhaps even comfort.
The idea of his brother still trying to hard to help him and comfort him is what sends Mokuba back into another spiral of thoughts and panic. This is why Seto could never see him as a partner. This is why Seto doesn't want him as a soulmate. This is why he's just-
"Mokuba," Seto's firm voice breaks through the cloud of panic, speaking over the hyperventilating that's started up again, "concentrate on breathing. Deep breaths."
Mokuba tries again, sucking in a chestful of air and letting it out with a shaky breath. After that, another deep breath follows. He focuses on that, trying to stay grounded via the hand in his own and the feeling of that weight across his shoulders. A touch moves up and down his arm, and his brain zeroes in on that as well. Breathe. Breathe . In and out. In... and out...
Eventually the static and screaming within his head dies down, and gradually his heart slows his frantic pace. His death grip on Seto's hand loosens, and his shoulder sag as the tension subsides ever so slightly. He reaches his free hand up and rubs at his face with his sleeve, too preoccupied about the mess he's making. The panic has dissipated, but all of the other feelings linger in his chest, along with a few new ones. Shame and embarrassment flood him as he finally acknowledges the state that he's been resolved to. Crying doesn't solve anything. Panicking doesn't fix your problems. And yet here he sits, on the wet and dirty ground of some forgotten ally, aching in the aftermath of some sort of tantrum. He feels ashamed to so much as bear the Kaiba name.
"Y-you must t-think," Mokuba breathes out with shaky words, taking a pause to breathe before continuing, "I'm so childish and weak."
Seto is silent as Mokuba sniffles and rubs at his eyes again. It's okay. Mokuba knows how he must look and how foolish he's acting. Gozaburo taught them to kill their feelings, and Seto had always been so good at that. Mokuba never quite got the hang of it. A lot of Gozaburo's teachings never really sunk in for him. Ruthlessness, a lack of emotions, unwavering confidence, an unwillingness to ever–these are all things that their adoptive father had considered essential to being strong and successful. No wonder he only ever considered Seto his successor.
The hand linked with Mokuba's doesn't move away, nor does the arm across his shoulders, even as the silence drags on, heavy and palpable between them. Mokuba doesn't know what his brother is thinking, but he doesn't dare ask. If Seto wants to speak, he will. If he doesn't want to, well Mokuba now knows all about Seto not wanting to tell him things. He fights back a bitter laugh at the thought, biting his lip roughly and cursing his feelings.
"When I realized we were soulmates, I had a similar breakdown," Seto starts suddenly, voice strange as it penetrates the air between them, "only mine was a lot worse. Pathetic, really."
Mokuba finally shifts his gaze to look at Seto, blinking his swollen eyes to focus on his brother through the slowing rain. They're both soaked through, and the cold is starting to creep back into his awareness, but he mentally pushes it away as he takes in the sight of Seto. His eyes are fixed on some faraway place, and they look sad and vulnerable. Mokuba doesn't think he's ever seen his older brother look like this before.
"I told everyone I didn't have a soulmate because I genuinely did not think I had one. I couldn't imagine..." Seto trails off, brow furrowing as he thinks over his words before he starts again, "and then it was you and..."
Mokuba feels something twist in his chest as he listens to Seto struggle for words. This is so unlike him, to not know exactly what he wants to say and just how to say it. Mokuba has watched him get up in front of a board of directors and completely make up an entire presentation on the fly. He's watched him take the most dangerous and high-stakes situations in stride, and spit one-liners as if he's been practicing them for weeks. Seto Kaiba isn't the kind of guy to fumble for words and struggle to get his point across. Mokuba stays quiet, giving his brother time and silence to get his thoughts in order.
"You know I'm terrible at all of this communication and feelings stuff," Seto eventually says with a heavy and defeated sigh, "but you're the most important person in my life. You deserve better than the mess that I am."
Seto's past has made him strong, but it's also left lasting scars on him. Mokuba might be one of the few people who know just how much Seto hides under the surface. In fact, he might just be the only person who knows.
"I think I should be the one who decides what I do and don't deserve," Mokuba mumbles through the ache in his chest.
With those words, Seto finally turns his gaze to meet Mokuba's. He knows how he must look right now, a swollen ugly mess, but he doesn't bother turning away. Instead, he just looks up at Seto with completely open and honest eyes. He has nothing to hide at this point. He really doesn't have anything to lose either.
"If I had told you," Seto starts, a wry smile spreading across his face as he asks, "would you really have wanted to be together?"
The way Seto asks that question, it seems to almost be rhetorical. Like Seto is sure that he knows Mokuba's answer and that the answer will be a firm and certain no . But that's where Seto is wrong, because almost before the words are off his lips, Mokuba is answering without even a hint of hesitation.
"Yes," he responds, tilting his chin up with confidence and defiance of everything his brother thinks is true, "of course I would have. I still do."
Mokuba almost grins with satisfaction as surprise and confusion pass over Seto's features. It's not often that Seto puts his emotions on display, and when he does, it's normally not so easy to get him to react unexpectedly. His thumb runs idly over Seto's knuckle in a soft gesture that just comes so naturally to Mokuba.
"I don't care what other people think or what society tells us," he continues, gripping Seto's hand a little tighter as he feels the confidence of the complete and utter truth fill his chest, "all I know is that I love you in every way you could possibly love someone, and I can't see myself with anyone but you."
Seto stares at him, and Mokuba can practically see his brain churning to process the new information. It's probably a pretty big shock to realize that your own brother is in love with you, even if the two of them are soulmates. Mokuba knows he can never take back his words now that they've left his mouth, and he knows he's not the type to ever retract them either. His heart is laid bare, and now Seto knows it. The only thing left is to accept the rejection and move on, trying to pick up the pieces of their now forever-changed relationship.
Mokuba carefully extracts his hand from Seto's, breaking the contact there as he tries to sort out his thoughts and feelings. A small smile graces his lips, one that doesn't even attempt to make it all the way to his eyes.
"But you made your decision years ago that you don't want this, and I need to respect that," Mokuba says with a nod, voice going softer and eyes glinting with sadness as he adds, "I just wish you would have told me."
Something inscrutable passes over Seto's eyes, and Mokuba doesn't really know how to figure out what his brother is thinking. This time, the silence between them only lasts a beat or two before it's being broken.
"What if I do want this?" Seto asks, voice careful and probing, "would you still-"
"Don't," Mokuba cuts him off with a frown, voice rough and firm, "I don't have the energy for hypotheticals that just get my hopes up, Seto."
Either tell me you want this, or let me grieve in peace.
Mokuba tries to shove down the hope in his chest, that insidious feeling that can either light you up inside or eat away at you like acid. Seto already made his choice, didn't he? He made the choice when he turned eighteen, and doubled down on it when Mokuba himself got his mark. Right?
It feels impossible to break the eye contact that they've made, and Mokuba wouldn't want to look away even if he could. His eyes are searching desperately for any sign of what's going through his brother's mind. Seto takes a minute to process Mokuba's words, and then gives a small nod.
"I do want this."
The words come first. Then the recognition. And finally, the full understanding. A million thoughts and feelings flood Mokuba all at once, and they all fight for control of his system. He wants to scream and yell at Seto again for making this whole situation unnecessarily difficult. He wants to bury his face in his arms and cry out the rest of the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him. He wants to laugh until his entire body hurts as the happiness bubbles in his veins. But there's one thing he wants to do even more than any of that.
Without warning, Mokuba reaches for Seto's face with both of his hands and pulls him close. When their lips meet, it feels like coming home. It feels like having the worst day ever and walking in the door to find his brother waiting for him. It feels like being wrapped up in love and comfort and acceptance. He smiles into the kiss as he feels Seto finally get with the program and kiss back. The arm around his shoulders tightens and pulls him closer, and he soon feels a hand on his waist. Mokuba moves one hand back to tangle in Seto's hair, pouring his entire heart into that one kiss.
They stay like that, pressed together and drinking in the feeling of each other, until their lungs start to protest, calling out for a chance to breathe. Mokuba reluctantly breaks the kiss, pulling away just far enough for him to be able to breathe. Seto's lips give chase, and Mokuba can't help the laughter that tumbles off his tongue at the action.
Seto blinks his eyes open, and a self-satisfied feeling rises in Mokuba's chest at the dazed look in those bright blue eyes. If there was any doubt lingering in his mind about Seto genuinely wanting this, it's gone now. He knows happiness must be shining in his own eyes, and he wonders if Seto can read the awe he feels as well.
"Now, was that so hard?" he teases, that smile never leaving his lips.
Seto doesn't have a response for that. Instead, Mokuba feels the hand on his hip disappear and find its way to his face. He practically melts into the touch, reveling in the way his brother caresses his face. A pair of lips press to his own, and this time they feel sure and insistent, rather than desperate and drowning. It's a kiss that sends a chill down his spine and makes his hair stand on end. His eyes linger closed when Seto pulls away, and the world swims when he finally does open them again.
"I love you, Mokie," Seto mumbles, his thumb running gently over Mokuba's cheekbone, "every way you could possibly love someone."
Mokuba grins at his brothers words. The nickname paired with the repeat of his own declaration sends his heart into a frantic race. There's a million things Mokuba wants to say to his brother—no, not just his brother anymore, his soulmate, his partner—but that can all wait. They have time to talk. For now, there's only one thing on his mind, and that's pulling Seto back in for another kiss, his heart skipping when he feels Seto's smile against his lips.