Chapter Text
Joey Wheeler stared at the envelope lying on the edge of his table. The KaibaCorp seal gleamed under the dim light of his apartment. His hand trembled slightly as he picked it up.
*Come duel in the Tower.*
Simple words. But for Joey, they carried the weight of months he had tried to forget—months of emptiness, anxiety, and the nagging question: *Why did I let him control me?*
He slumped onto the couch, his head in his hands. The apartment felt smaller than usual, the shadows longer. His arthritis throbbed, his chest tight with tension. Joey hadn’t been sleeping well. He hadn’t really eaten. His friends had called, texted, tried to check in, but Joey had pushed them away. Even Yugi’s words, full of care, felt distant: *“Joey… don’t let him pull you back in.”*
He wanted to believe Kaiba could change. The image of Kaiba standing there, poised and commanding, had always held a strange allure for him. Even now, the thought of dueling at the Tower—the gleam of holographic monsters, the thrill of strategy—made his heart beat faster. Maybe… maybe things could be different this time.
Joey sighed and finally opened the envelope. Inside was a single note:
*"I’ve handled the business. I expect you at KaibaCorp tomorrow. Come prepared. We have much to discuss."*
Joey’s stomach sank. Something about the wording, the tone, made his nerves flare. He thought back to the months he had spent under Kaiba’s shadow: the late nights where Joey had cooked and cleaned while Kaiba drank, the way Kaiba had praised him one moment and ignored him the next, the nights Joey spent staring at the ceiling, heart aching, wondering if he had imagined the smiles and apologies.
And yet… he still felt that pull. That dangerous, magnetic pull that had always made him believe Kaiba, even when reason screamed otherwise.
The next morning, Joey arrived at KaibaCorp. The building was impossibly tall, a glass tower reflecting the sunlight in sharp angles, like a blade aimed at the city. His stomach twisted as he walked inside.
Kaiba was already waiting, seated at a sleek table with a half-empty bottle of whiskey beside him. His sharp eyes, usually so calculating, now had dark circles beneath them. He glanced up at Joey and gave a small, measured nod.
“Joey,” he said smoothly, almost too casually. “Good to see you. Sit.”
Joey obeyed, sitting across from him. Kaiba’s presence was overwhelming, intoxicating. He poured himself a drink and stared at Joey for a moment, saying nothing. Joey’s hands felt clammy on his knees.
“I… uh…” Joey started, then stopped. How could he begin to explain the months of confusion, betrayal, and exhaustion? How could he explain the nights he had spent hoping Kaiba would actually be honest, the mornings he had spent trying to piece together Kaiba’s half-truths?
Kaiba’s smirk appeared suddenly, that cold, distant smirk that made Joey’s stomach twist.
“You’re imagining it, Joey,” Kaiba said smoothly. “All of it. You’re overreacting. I can’t be responsible for your… feelings.”
Joey felt a flash of anger, of hurt, and of recognition all at once. The knot in his chest tightened. That phrase, the one Kaiba had used countless times, was still there—*I can’t be responsible for your feelings*.
And yet Joey stayed.
Because even now, deep down, he wanted to believe Kaiba.
Even now, deep down, he still wanted to duel.
Even now, deep down, he still wanted… *connection*.
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