Adult-FanFiction.org : Yu-Gi-OH

Thin Line	By : Rroselavy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 8050 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
A/N: I don't own or profit in way from Yu-Gi-Oh.

Chapter 14
He was in New York and he was miserable. Lonely. He had seen Jou's number on his missed calls but there had been no message. He checked into the hotel and fell onto the bed. He slept for sixteen hours. The next morning he showered and dressed, then cabbed over to the agency. The meeting was long, his temper, short. He could sense the panic from the others. If he pulled the plug on this project, he knew people would lose jobs. It never bothered him before, but now he felt like a monster. No one would tell him what they were thinking, they were too afraid. He sighed, not liking the person he saw reflected back at him in the faces of the others in the room.
Only Mokuba and Jounouchi dared speak their minds to him with any regularity. Neither of them took his shit. A short list. The agency owner droned on and on, he was sweating, he was running scared. Kaiba used to think nothing of the power he held over people, how on his whim lives were destroyed. But it was different now. He felt pain. He felt what it was like to be uncertain. To not know the outcome. To have someone else control it. He was sick with worry, having a hard time following the convoluted excuses. His head was pounding, and he wanted to get out, he wanted to go home.
"Let's just cut to the chase," he interrupted. "I've invested far too much time and money to pull the project and find another firm to take over it. At the same time, I can't release this title unless I think it's up to the standard of a Kaiba Corp. release. I chose your agency because of your client list and your excellent work, I know that you can make this better." Silence. He saw a couple of people shift uncomfortably in their chairs. "So, this is what I'm prepared to do. I want this release out in time for Christmas. If you can get it done, everyone on the team will get their yearly salary as a bonus."
They sat there stunned. The owner strode toward him, hand outstretched. "Mr. Kaiba, thank you. We won't let you down, right team?"
Kaiba stood and shook hands as the others in the room chorused "Right!"
He begged off lunch. He needed to be alone. He was barely functioning. He knew some of it was due to jetlag, but the bulk of it was lovesickness. He never believed that love could make someone sick. But what else could it be? He thought to call Jou, but felt shy, unsure. So he went back to his hotel instead. He was staying in SoHo on the agency's recommendation. It was an exclusive boutique hotel, a little jewelbox. Usually he stayed midtown, overlooking the Park.
He was free now, had a day left before heading back. He paged through the Galleries section of the complimentary Time Out New York magazine. He'd begun collecting art, he thought if something caught his interest, he'd have a look. His eyes glanced over an ad and he froze. There in 72 point type was the name 'Jounouchi.' He remembered then that Jou's mother had been a fine artist, a painter. He and Jounouchi had been in the same art history class, and the teacher had mentioned it. Jou had only grunted an acknowledgement, turned his head away. He felt his heart ache again and longed to be near Jou. He missed him. He swallowed hard, tasting chocolate and cherries. The taste of kissing Jou. He headed out to the gallery named in the ad.
He picked up the price sheet at the front desk. The woman behind the desk barely glanced at him. He made his way slowly around, starting with the first painting. The prices were reasonable, he noted they were far less than he'd paid to get Jou away from his father.
They were a series of abstracts. Each painting had a buildup of reds, pinks, greys, covering rags, newspaper, sand, bits of scrap wood. They looked like innards had been smeared on a white ground. Pain emanated from them. But they were beautiful too, when you examined them up close, the colors swirled and dripped energy and vibrancy. There was an earthy, organic quality to them. They were about life and death in all its messiness.
He stood in front of one titled "The Son Also Rises." A play on the Hemingway title, he noted. At the bottom right, away from the main form was a small handprint, a child's handprint. He placed his hand over it, about an inch above the canvass.
"That's her son's handprint." The woman had come over to him. "She had left the door open to her studio, and he snuck in. When she found him, he'd already left the mark."
He continued to stare at the painting. He had to own it. "I want to purchase this painting, you'll need to wrap it to ship internationally."
"Where will we be shipping it to?" She asked nonchalantly, as if an eighteen year old dropped $35,000 in her gallery every day.
"Japan. I'll be flying it back with me," Kaiba said, still looking at the painting. He wanted it for Jou. "Do you know who is selling these paintings?" He leveled a gaze at her.
"Her father is--" she continued, but Kaiba was no longer listening.
The letters! He'd forgotten all about them, but they were in his coat pocket, back at the hotel.
"Is there any way I can speak to him?" he interrupted.
"To the father?"
"Yes," he answered impatiently. "I know her son, his grandson. I think he'd like to hear how he is."
"You know her son, his grandson?" she repeated. "Let me give him a call. You are?"
"Seto Kaiba. From Japan."
She thought the name was familiar, but shrugged it off as she headed for the telephone behind the desk. He heard her on the phone, but was to far away to make out the conversation. She called out to him from across the room, her hand was over the receiver. "He'd like to meet with you, at a coffee shop over on Mulberry Street."
"Now?"
She spoke back into the phone. "In an hour and a half." She was writing something down on a message pad.
"How will I know who he is?" He was feeling uneasy. Perhaps this wasn't a good idea.
"I described you to him, he'll know who you are. Also, he says to ask any waiter for Guiseppe. They know him there." She hung up the phone, and came back to him. "He was very excited to hear news of his grandson," she said handing him the notepaper. It had the name and address of the place, Caffe Palermo, on Mulberry Street.
He made arrangements with her to have the painting shipped out to JFK to be loaded onto his plane. Then he stopped back at the hotel to pick up the letters. He was guilty that he'd forgotten to tell Jou about them, but at least he'd be able to straighten it out with his grandfather. He stopped at the concierge to find out where Mulberry Street was. When he found out it wasn't too far, he decided to walk, it would give him a chance to clear his head, think about what he would say.
It was a perfect late-spring day in New York. The sky was a deep blue, some would say it matched the color of his eyes. The sun was warm on his face. He regretted he hadn't changed out of his business suit into more casual clothes. The humidity that blankets the city in the summer was barely hinted at in the light breeze. The narrow streets of SoHo were packed with tourists and shoppers. He meandered slowly east and south towards Little Italy, passing through encroaching Chinatown.
He felt like he was chasing the ghost of his lover's childhood now. Walking the same streets Jou had a boy. Closer to his destination, the aromas reached out to him like a siren's call. He hadn't eaten all day, had forgotten how hungry he was. He thought about the meal Jounouchi had prepared for him the other night. Osso buco, he had called it. Kaiba had never been a big fan of veal, but the shanks Jou had made, braised for hours, were succulent. His mouth watered at the memory. Cooking, it seemed, was one of Jou's many talents. Though, he admitted blushing, most of Jou's other talents he knew of were of the bedroom variety.
He had reached the cafe, its french doors had been opened wide and tables and chairs spilled out on the sidewalk in front of it. For a moment, out of the corner of his eye, seated at a far table engrossed in a crossword puzzle, he thought he saw Jou. He realized it was Jou's hair, golden, but shot with silver. Then the face lifted and a pair of amber eyes appraised him. Jou's eyes. He stood frozen.
"Mr. ... Kaiba?" Jou's voice, older, deeper. The older man stood up, gesturing to the chair across from him. Forgetting his manners, he took it, still staring intently at the older man. "I'm Guiseppe Castellano, Pepe's--Katsuya's grandfather. You know him?" He looked at Kaiba anxiously.
Kaiba swallowed hard. "Yes, he's my friend. He's living with me right now. At my house."
Relief washed over the older man's face. "I thought," he hesitated for a minute, "I thought he might be dead." Kaiba waited for him to continue. "I haven't heard from him since his father took him away." He could see tears in the other man's eyes.
The letters. Kaiba took them out of his suit jacket pocket. "He thinks you forgot about him. His father kept your letters from him, and kept his from you."
Anger smoldered in Guiseppe's eyes. "That bastard! He always hated me, knew I hated him for what he did to my daughter. I should have known he would punish Pepe," he raged.
He looked at the opened letters on the table. "You read them?"
"No, but I think Katsuya's father did. They were opened when I found them." At that the old man blanched. Kaiba noticed his hand shaking. "He can't hurt Jou anymore," Kaiba said softly, "I made sure of it."
The other man leveled his eyes at him "Thank you, you are a good friend. I'm glad Pepe has someone to look out for him."
'Not good enough,' Kaiba thought, looking away. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes.
The other man continued to stare at him. The waiter came by and asked him for his order. "I'll just have a coffee." His appetite was gone.
Guiseppe broke the silence. "May I ask you something?" Kaiba nodded imperceptibly.
"Are you his boyfriend?" Kaiba stared at him in shock. Slowly regaining composure.
"Would it be a problem if I was?" Kaiba eyed the other man warily.
Guiseppe smiled at his reticence. "Before he left, Pepe told me he thought he was gay. To answer your question, no it isn't a problem, unless you mistreat him. I just hope my grandson has better taste in men than his mother did." The older man smiled softly. "Seeing you here, I'm inclined to think he does." Kaiba blushed.
His coffee arrived and he stirred it absently. He was uncomfortable under the other man's gaze. "Unfortunately, I haven't been that kind to Jou--Katsuya," he said quietly. "Before I left, I said some awful things. I don't know if he'll want to see me again. I told him he was nothing more than a dog."
"And that upset him? Dogs are loyal. Dogs are protective. They are guardians.
There are worst things to be called."
"But it's what HE called him. What his father called him."
"He called him that because he wanted to rub in his face that Inu was gone. That he'd been able to get rid of her." The older man said.
"Inu?" Kaiba asked weakly.
"Pepe's dog. Before they left, his father took her to the pound. You would have thought he won the lottery, he hated that dog so much! I found her and adopted her. She passed away this year. Lived to a ripe old age." He reached into his jacket pocket for his wallet and opened it up. He showed Kaiba a faded picture of Jou. He was about twelve, he was crouched down next to a dun-colored mongrel. They were both smiling at the camera. Kaiba's mind reeled. His name for Jou had been the name he'd given his own dog. The irony wasn't lost on him.
The older man shook his head, smiling. "What are words? They can't hurt as much as fists and feet. I know my grandson, it would take more than words to drive him away." Kaiba thought of their last kiss, how Jou had responded with equal passion. There was a glimmer of hope.
"You are young, inexperienced. If he left you over a lover's quarrel, then there was nothing to begin with." Kaiba sipped his coffee in silence.
"You love him, don't you?" The other man continued, not waiting for a reply. "If he doesn't realize how lucky he is, it is his loss."
"No, I'm the lucky one. To have him in my life." Kaiba resolved he would make things right. Tell Jou the truth, that he loved him.
They spent the afternoon in conversation. Guiseppe filled in for Kaiba the missing pieces of Jou's life. Explained how hard he'd fought for Jou's custody, how bitter he was that he lost. Sitting here with his grandfather made Kaiba feel closer to Jou. He told Guiseppe how he had wanted to bring Jou with him, but Jou's father had destroyed his passport. He promised that he would come back with him soon. He couldn't wait to get back to Jou, to tell him news of his grandfather. As he paid the check, Guiseppe invited him home for brunch the next morning, before he headed to the airport. He had some things he wanted Kaiba to bring to his grandson. Kaiba accepted without reservation.
On his way back to the hotel, his chest lighter than it had been for days, he decided to buy some presents. He stopped at the Apple store and got Mokuba the U2 iPod he'd been bugging him for. He didn't know what to get Jou, but as he passed by the new Tiffany store, something caught his eye, and he went in. Fifteen minutes later, he was back out on the street, contemplating dinner at Nobu before turning in for the night. Tomorrow he would begin the journey home.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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