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It burned in his veins. The power, usually reserved for his other heart, was heady and acidic; he choked on a whine, nerves over-sensitive and threatening to crackle with magic. How does he stand it, He thinks, fingers curling into tightly-knotted fists. It doesn’t help, but he could pretend for a few more seconds that the overload wasn’t trying to gut his brain out from between his eyes.
A sigh rattled through him, too harsh and dry for the muggy summer evening. Still - if he can do it, thought Yugi with a determined stiffening of his shoulders (and, oh, that must be why mou hitori no boku had such rigid posture, every little bit helped), then so can I.
Nevermind the fact that he needed to; his head ached with hollowness, temporary though it was. Groaning, he clasped a hand over his eyes, trying to fend off the starbursts of golden, liquid pain. His nails dug in, trails of scratches exorcising the thrumming goldmadnessmemories in tributed pain. Pushing it back, his smile curled on his lips, in the way he knew his other did - oil-slick, a mask for the one whom he needed to deal a Penalty Game as much as it was for himself.
A flash across his mind’s eye, sun broiling his tanned skin and screams a distant echo that came as if through a filter, and he hissed, startled. The slip broached a deluge, pushing aside his own unwavering core of memories and rushing the newly-formed gaps with its own heavy ones. The pain between on his forehead spiraled into a bright, gilded branding, inciting a moan of pain in the confines of his mind. His hand shook, groping out into the air at a mist of what had to be a part of himself floating away, “My…” It hurt to rasp the words out, but it felt like the only rope he had, and a flash of intuition made him incredulous, “Name?!”