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True To Life	By : Rroselavy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3656 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Epilogue
- 1
- 2
- 3
Title: True To Life (2/4)
Author: Rroselavy
Rating: NC-17
Pairing (s): J/S
Beta: Akuchan
Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from Yu-gi-oh!
Summary: If you wished for true love and it came knocking at your door, would you have the courage to answer?
* * * * *
He was awakened from deep slumber by the strident ring of his cell phone, and as he became conscious, he was aware of an acute throbbing in his temples that sympathetically punctuated each alert. He really needed to lay off the scotch; it gave him wicked hangovers.
"What," he rasped into the mouthpiece, alarmed when he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand, its economical numerals alerting him that he'd overslept.
"Good morning Mr. Kaiba," his lawyer said brightly, evoking stabbing pains behind the brunet's eyes. "I have good news, Mr. Wheeler has agreed to your terms. He will meet with you at the hotel bar tonight at six."
"Good," he managed, barely registering that he might finally be within reach of his goal to get the blond to stop painting pictures of his likeness. An image flashed in his mind then, one of huge canvases done in Wheeler's painterly style gracing the walls of the gallery he'd visited the day before; only the subject matter of the works were landscapes and seascapes, not the omnipresent Seto Kaiba visage that he knew was painted onto every single canvas that Wheeler had ever touched. He shook his head, earning a nausea-inducing wave of dizziness. He must have dreamt those other images before he was awakened.
"But there's one thing, Sir. He wants to meet you alone."
"No lawyer for him?"
"No, and none for you, I'm afraid."
"What kind of bullshit is that!?!"
"Sir, he says he believes that you both can come to a suitable arrangement without any 'stuffed shirts' involved. His words, not mine."
The CEO groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted to do was meet alone with the psychotic blond who was so obviously obsessed with him. All of a sudden he felt disoriented by a memory that had the situation completely reversed ... one in which the circumstances were that he'd been pursuing the blond ... to ~buy~ a painting. "At least it will be in public." Kaiba replied, masking his confusion, but somehow the meeting place that he'd suggested, the Church Bar in the lobby of the TriBeCa Grand, didn't make him feel any more comfortable. "Six o'clock it is then." He felt his heartbeat quicken in anticipation of finally coming face to face with his blond rival after six years.
"Sir, I'll drop by with the papers ... in case you manage to get him to agree to signing them."
"Very well, leave them at the front desk, I'm already late for my first meeting." He snapped his phone closed irritably, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. As if he would pursue the blond for anything. No, he'd spent the past few years actively ducking Joey Wheeler, and had the stacks of pink 'While You Were Out' slips that his secretary had dutifully filled out each time the blond had called Kaiba at the office and he'd informed her to take a message, to prove it. They'd all been carefully filed away as evidence in the case that Tamagoto had insisted on building against the blond, should his behavior ever become erratic or threatening.
After Kaiba let his breakfast appointment know that he was going to be delayed, he found the catalogue he'd bought at the gallery the day before-as more evidence-and flipped it open to a random page, half expecting to see one of the gorgeous images from the dream he'd had. Instead he was confronted with a portrait of himself, blue eyes glittering like sapphires as they peeked out from under his trademark chestnut bangs. He slammed the book closed forcefully, breathing out a scornful "Baka!" If only Wheeler had kept his mouth shut, all this would have eventually just gone away.
He'd resolved himself to ignore the fact that the blond was churning out canvas after canvas of his image and making a fortune at it as the art world's latest darling. For years Wheeler had denied that his singular subject was anyone that he knew, obtusely refusing to acknowledge that his character resembled any living person; and because of his heavy impasto technique and compositions that partially obscured the subject's face, it had been difficult to argue otherwise. But then recently he'd been quoted during an interview with an obscure online art 'zine where he had identified his brunet muse as the one and only Seto Kaiba. When the press had gotten wind of the confession, they'd had a field day. Kaiba shuddered involuntarily as he thought about the countless interviews he'd had to suffer through since, where he'd been grilled about his relationship to the blond. It seemed that the more he protested, the more it encouraged the media to probe him further.
But now it was within his grasp to finally get the blond to sell him a painting ... no he didn't want to ~buy~ a painting from the blond he corrected himself, he wanted Joey to stop painting ~him~. At this point, the roomfuls of Kaibas were getting more than a little creepy and bordered on stalker-like behavior. And the blond had had the nerve to begin painting some nudes of him.
He continued to get ready for the day, his mind still haunted by the dream he'd had. It had been so realistic and unlike most dreams he was able to remember upon awakening in which he generally experienced strange time shifts and visual non-sequiturs. As he thought about it, he found he could piece the dream together in a rather straightforward narrative that paralleled the day he'd had, albeit with entirely different outcomes. He found he had two memories of his lunch with Mokuba, one in which they'd made plans to summer in the Hamptons, and the other, a more prickly one, where he was feeling lost and sorry for himself at his brother's newfound independence. It vexed him, and as if to prove the dream's duplicity, he rummaged through his coat pockets to find the brochure of the house out in the Hamptons that Mokuba had insisted they purchase to enjoy extended summer vacations at when the elder Kaiba was visiting New York.
He found the glossy brochure that his brother had handed to him over lunch, and immediately the hair at the nape of his neck stood on end; the image that graced the cover was a photograph that appeared to be identical to the painting he'd dreamed about. The caption was titled, "An endless horizon of sea and sand." He shook his head irritably, as the pieces he was puzzling fell together. His dream of the painting had been fabricated out of the events of the day before. With that mystery solved, he was able to push the rest of the disturbing incidents of his dream out of his mind and finish getting ready for his day.
As he was driven through the canyons of midtown Manhattan to his breakfast appointment at Norma's in the Parker-Meridien, Kaiba allowed his mind to drift back to the last time he'd seen Joey Wheeler. He was not looking forward to the old-style power breakfast he knew he was being driven to, and he gazed sullenly out of the tinted glass of the limousine's window, remembering the details of that day.
He'd gone to the Kami Game Shop for Yugi's high school graduation party. Mokuba had pestered him for days on end, and in order to placate his brother, Kaiba had agreed to drop in just for a few minutes. In reality, he'd been looking forward to seeing Wheeler, because despite all outward appearances, and the fact that he treated the blond duelist poorly, he was hopelessly attracted to him. The party had been tolerable, most likely due to Kaiba realizing that he would no longer be running into the Yugi tachi on a daily basis, but he couldn't totally quell the vague sense of loss he felt from that same sentiment. Although his days beyond high school were predetermined by his position at Kaiba Corp, the imminent change to his daily regimen was unsettling nonetheless.
Before he knew it, hours had passed, spent in conversations he'd never imagined he would hold with his former nemesis and friends, particularly Joey, with whom his extended conversation had been surprisingly pleasant and coherent, that is until the blond began to drink in earnest. At that point things began to get exceedingly weird, and the evening ended with Joey making a terrifically clumsy pass at the brunet, and in a moment of weakness, Kaiba allowing himself to be drawn into a steamy embrace.
To this day, Kaiba lamented his harsh reaction, borne from shock and disbelief that his attraction to Joey was actually reciprocated, but he knew he couldn't very well go back and change the past. Though he couldn't help feeling that if he'd reacted in a much more responsible and considerate way, things would have turned out far different. As it was, though, he hadn't let the blond down easily.
Looking back, he wondered why he'd been so ... frightened ... by Joey's overtures. It wasn't as if he'd never considered getting together with the blond, he'd even made some passing remarks that could have been construed as double entendres, if the other boy had been listening closely. Perhaps he'd never given Joey enough credit in being able to pick up on his subtle hints. But faced with an aggressively drunken Wheeler pressing himself against him, Kaiba had panicked; he'd lashed out at Joey, and then bolted. The next morning, he'd prayed that Wheeler had been too drunk to recall any of the events of the prior evening. For him though, they'd been indelibly etched into his memory, culminating with the electrifying heated kiss and the hot groping he'd shared with Joey before making his escape.
He felt a slight tightening in his groin at the memory, but then a cold chill washed over him. He remembered then that he hadn't gone to that party, he'd been stubborn to the end, and that evening had concluded in one of the worst fights he'd ever had with his younger brother, with Mokuba finally spitting out at him, "You deserve to end up old and alone, Seto!" Years later, the caustic remark still caused his stomach to lurch, but yet ... that kiss he'd shared with Joey, he knew in his soul that it had been real; it had ruined him for every intimate relationship that had followed. No one had been able ignite such a passion in him since.
What was happening to him? He broke out in a cold sweat, his skin feeling clammy underneath the silk shirt he was wearing. It was as if he'd become unable to discern which of his memories were real, and which had been dreams. Something was wrong, and he was gripped with terror that whatever it was might be a harbinger to further deterioration of his cognitive abilities. God, what would happen to Mokuba? He knew his younger sibling was well equipped to take care of himself, but he despaired at the thought of leaving him alone in the world. Before he realized it, he'd dialed Mokuba's cell phone number.
"Mokuba," he managed. He hated how strained his voice sounded and knew his brother would instantly be alarmed.
"Seto, what's the matter?" Mokuba's concern was evident through the tiny earpiece.
"I don't know," he gasped, suddenly finding it near impossible to breathe. "I-" His voice trailed off.
"Get to a hospital!" He heard the panic rising in Mokuba's voice and suddenly felt ashamed and embarrassed for upsetting him so.
"I'm sorry Mokuba," he said through clenched teeth, "I was wrong to call you. I'm okay." He had to be.
"Please, Niisama! I'll meet you there," Mokuba pleaded. Kaiba was hit with another series of memories from the day before, of Mokuba calling him that, and how he'd been so grateful to hear that childhood nickname from his brother's lips. But he knew that Mokuba had never stopped calling him that.
"Where?" Kaiba asked, momentarily losing the thread of their conversation. More powerful memories were invading his thoughts-no, not memories-hallucinations. He and Tamagoto arguing over his insistence to offer Wheeler a ridiculous amount of money for a painting; him telling Wheeler that they could never be friends, that the blond wasn't worth expending one iota of his precious time on; Wheeler hurling insults at him the last time they'd been in the same room together; at Mokuba's graduation. Things were spiraling out of control. He imagined the nerves in his brain had lost their capacity to fire in the correct order and the random chaos that had ensued was wreaking havoc on his memories. Perhaps he'd had a stroke, he mused, and suddenly he became calm; he'd found a plausible answer to his dilemma.
"Seto, SETO!" Mokuba's voice was near hysterical. "Niisama, are you there!?!"
"Yes," he said, as the tight vise that had gripped his chest loosened a bit.
"Go to New York-Presbyterian. NOW! I'll meet you there. SETO answer ME!"
"Okay," he said docilely. He was feeling somewhat better now that he had a new purpose. He had to find out what was wrong with his brain.

He hung up the phone and pressed the intercom to address the driver. "There's been a change of plans. I need you to take me to New York Presbyterian."
"Yes, sir," the driver replied, his professional demeanor unruffled by the change in destinations.
By the time Mokuba had arrived at the hospital, he'd been much calmer than when Kaiba had hung up on him. The CEO was proud of his brother's ability to pull himself together, and grateful that he'd taken charge; efficiently canceling all of Kaiba's appointments for the day and the next morning, and winning assurances from the medical center's public relations department head that any details of Kaiba's admittance would not be released to the media until it was vetted by Kaiba Corp's PR department. Mokuba had then insisted on waiting for him, and with him, through all the procedures and then their results, listening sympathetically, while Kaiba described in halting terms what was happening in his mind.
"It's going to be okay, Seto. We'll get to the bottom of this." He stated confidently. Once again, Kaiba was thankful to have his brother steadfast by his side.
Once it had been recognized that the one and only Seto Kaiba had been admitted for a battery of tests, he'd been given VIP treatment at the renowned medical center, all the while being poked and prodded by a cadre of top specialists in neurology, physiology and, when nothing physical could be found for his complaints, psychiatry. After submitting himself to a host of invasive and non-invasive procedures-a PET scan, CT scan, fMRI, carotid artery scans, and an electroencephalogram, all of which when analyzed were found to be normal, Kaiba found himself lying on a comfortable couch allowing an analyst to probe his psyche. But the psychiatrist had come up with nothing more compelling for his symptoms than it could be they were manifestations of the enormous amount of daily stress that the brunet put himself through.
* * *
It had been an exceedingly grueling day for the CEO. He was utterly exhausted by the time he had made it back to the TriBeCa Grand and he was looking forward only to ordering a light dinner and then climbing into bed and forgetting about the entire ordeal as well as the dual memories that were intent on sabotaging his waking hours. He strode through the lobby purposefully, hands in his pockets, the fingers of one wrapped around the two pill prescriptions the psychiatrist had prescribed for him-Paxil for the generalized anxiety he was experiencing, and Xanax for when it welled to an acute level at which he found it difficult to function. He reached the elevators and was poised to press the up button when he heard someone call out his name.
"Hey Kaiba!" He turned toward the vaguely familiar Brooklyn accent and recognized that it belonged to Joey Wheeler. Kaiba was filled with a sense of dread, in all the excitement of the day, he had completely forgotten about their meeting.
~TBC~
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True To Life