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Innocent Guilt	By : ShadowSanctuary Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2113 -:- 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
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Chapter
3: Drops of Jupiter
Binging
has ruined my self-respect. I've deprived myself of candy for so long that I
can't contain my hands from shoving the junk food in my face. Before I could
comprehend what I was doing, the kitchen was swamped with brightly colored
wrappers and half-eaten chocolates, Skittles, Starburst, and other name brand
items, scattered at every compass point like a sugar graveyard. An hour later,
I stared in disbelief at what I had done, scarcely accepting the facts to be
true. But the evidence was there, gaudy advertisements and logos in all,
proving to me that I had gone berserk. Seizing a fistful of my hair, I gazed at
the counters, contemplating how I could have permitted such an act to be
carried out. I already knew the answer to my question, which made everything
even more aggravating to stomach. My control regulators collapsed so my selfish
ego could gorge on empty calories. Basically, taste buds had conquered
self-discipline, releasing the system of restraints long enough for my body to
relive its childhood dreams of prancing around in Candy Land. Furious at my
internal weakness, I slapped the floor with a bony palm, cursing under my
breath as I did it. Immediately, I regretted the aggressive streak, flinching
while horrible vibes traveled up and down my arm.
"I have to get rid of it..." I
mumbled absently to the sweet corpses stuck to my hands, fear overriding the
dull jabs of pain, "all of it. I have to get it out of me or--or--"
Too
scared to finish the thought, I picked myself up off the tiles, catching the
fall of some dark crumbs as I stood up. Disgusted and frightened, I searched
for an idea of how to banish the unwanted waste in my abdomen, turning me sick
and pale with grief. What was I going to do? Acquire a serious case of
diarrhea? Get liposuction to remove the surplus fat cells? Exercise until I
could no longer feel anything on me, much less my midsection?
No that won't work, none of those will
work. I told myself. Despondency
clawed at my insides, bit at my heart, fed upon the mocking laughter of my
oh-so brilliant conscience. Of all things, I definitely didn't need the bitchy
head voice to throw its two cents worth in. I was totally capable of dealing
with anything else, everything except the cold, cruel tone that lingered in the
corners of my head. Something...there has to be something I can do, some
way for me to pull this crap out of me--
Suuure their is. the dreaded alter ego scoffed, slapping me with its
normally derisive tone. /And the Sugar Plum Fairy really does exist.
"Shut up!" I snapped, eyes shooting
poisoned darts at the sink, teeth clenched together in dangerous fury.
"You're fucked up!"
And you're not? the bastard of my nightmares shot back. Have you
taken a good look at yourself lately? When I didn't reply, the asshole
interrogated me continuously, gunning my self-defense mechanisms down like a
trained assassin. Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Beluga Whale?
Speak!
As
expected, my conscience knew what hurt my psyche the worst, which insults would
haunt me in my dreams, all the sordid little secrets that gave it entertainment
while I drew back in a ball and cried. This time was no different, attacking me
with malignant remarks, ones that tore ruthlessly at my pride until I screamed
uncle. Or until it was finished poking fun at me. Either would be remarkably
rewarding to the dirty fiend.
Refusing to be the target of its slander, I
responded with bitter determination, a tactic that was effective if used
properly. "I'll find a way." I promised myself, including the dumbass
that loved to rear its ugly face. "Don't worry, I'll find a way."
Expecting to be hit with an offensive slur, I
shifted uncomfortably, waiting for a reply. What do you know, I didn't have to
wait long for the bastard to vocalize its precious opinion, sounding as snotty
and caustic as ever.
We shall see. taunted the darker half,
berating my intentions. We shall see.
"And so we will." I declared
firmly. "I'll make a believer out of you."
But how? I wondered frantically, nerves drenched with
trepidation, practically hyperventilating with each passing thought. A bead of
perspiration drizzled from my temple, a precursor of angst and stress that
haunted me during day and nighttime hours. Focusing my deadened energy on this
growing pem, em, I dismissed the telltale sign of desperation. How can I
make good on what I said if I don�t know what to do? Damn, I'm so screwed!
Screwed so bad that I just want to throw u--
Awful
retching noises could be heard in the staff bathroom, an area designed to be a
place of rest for food service employees. Most of the chefs, waiters, and
interns had the afternoon off, so that narrowed down the tenants quite a bit. I
knew it wasn�t a house worker spewing their insides into oblivion--they�d hold
the sickness inside of them so they wouldn�t have to clean the same place
twice. That left just one other person, a boy that fancied himself to be as
robust as the Egyptian god cards, but in reality had an immune system as
fragile as the Petit Angel.
Sometime
between last Tuesday and this Friday, Mokuba had picked up a brand new buddy at
school, the type that leeches stamina from unsuspecting kids. No, I�m not
discussing types of ingrate slackers like Wheeler, I�m illustrating the
symptoms of a popular winter disease. At first, I obsernothnothing but a cough
here or runny nose there, aspects of a harmless common cold which has a
guaranteed recovery rate. It wasn�t until the following morning that I
witnessed him hacking and sniffling, huddled under four layers of comforters
and shivering madly that I arranged for him to park his hindquarters at home
for a week or so. Poor Brother...it has been over five days and he still has
the flu. If he gets better soon he might be able keep a meal down without
vomiti--
Oh my god, that�s it. I realized breathlessly, eyes as huge as dinner
plates, teeth clicking in excitement. That�s how I can get rid of what I
ate. If I do the same as him, I�ll be free of fat! Released from shameful
habits! Liberated from all my depressing guilt!
Cracking
a skeletal smile, I did a bizarre happy dance beside the dishwasher. Obviously,
I had no clue that I was giving full permission to chaos to take my life and
grind it in the garbage disposal, but lack of nutrition has ludicrous effects
on the brain. As far as my diminishing super ego could tell, I�d probably be
requesting a coffin for my next birthday. Or, at the very least, a headstone
with my name and tender inscription carved on it, displaying when I was born to
the current year. Either way, something inside me, some unexpected little voice
was whispering that I was fucked. I just pray that it�s not the dick I have
confrontations with.
With
the exit to the kitchen in sight, I tried to walk, but couldn�t move an inch.
My brow bunched together in petrified puzzlement, incapable of moving in
another direction, stuck for what seemed like an eternity in a skin-tight knot.
Oh, no...I moaned softly, almost dreamily. �Not here, not now!
I can�t afford this! I have to go! Have to go now!�
I
attempted to leave the room once more, but quickly discovered the dream to be
inaccessible. Panic was setting in, grabbing my throat, sin its its long,
malicious claws into my body. Terrified, I repeated my demands again, willing
the chant to push my limbs into drive. The whole package had the brakes locked
on, a security system that was more than childproof.
This
was one of those times where I longed to cruise towards the edge of a cliff,
light a final cigarette, then slam the shift into overd to to sail into a canyon.
The closest drop like that was the roof of the mansion, but I couldn�t do that
here. Not when I could barley move a muscle. Besides, I wasn�t in the mood for
suicidal banter or serious contemplation of the topic. For once, I wasn�t
thinking about sky diving without a parachute or jumping into a pool without
any water. I was concentrating on a lesser of the two evils, my sole request
for the moment screeching--
�Gotta get rid of it!� I cried, cracking the fault line to make way for
tears. �I just want it out, whatever I had, I need it to be out!�
My
head was unraveling, strangled by the flashback of manic demands, straining
what was left of my sanity so much that I couldn�t understand that I wasn�t
really looking for the nearest bathroom. I was lying on the floor. Arms were
out wide, cheek kissing the stony slab, mouth ordering my disabled frame to do
what was literally unattainable. Even with all those disturbing
characteristics, nothing seemed as eerie as my eyes. Twin globes of blue stared
vacantly out of their sockets, treading the waters of personal pain, falling
into the river of a soul just as hollow as their vision. They didn�t see a
child on his knees with a wet, shiny visage, wearing an expression similar to a
victim of a concentration camp. They didn�t comprehend that the tears pouring
down younyoungster�s countenance was for them, drops of Jupiter that were
simplistic to behold, yet a very real representation of human misery. The
boy could have committed self-mutilation, and these glazed spheres of mine
would have continued to gaze out into nothing, drowning in the sea that
masochistic routines created. His voice was the only aspect that rang clear as
a mission bell, drifting towards my wrecked ship in horrifying waves.
�Get up Seto, ya gotta get up!� he bellowed. My listlessness drove
him to greater extremes, humbling the kid to pitiable begging as he shook my
shoulders. �Please?� he cried, his tone flaring with hysteria, digging
his nails into my back. �Please get up, you have to get up! You can�t
just stay there and leave me here. You wouldn�t, I know you wouldn�t do that--�
Ceasing
his physical distress, Mokuba withdrew from me and gave me a curious look, a
combination of skepticism and sadness that made it tough to take him seriously.
This was probably the most traumatic experience of his life, but his appearance
of a comic book character destroyed the mood and tension of the atmosphere. His
little mouth was drawn down in a hitching sob, the ends of his lips trembling
while he arched a brow in disbelief. It was as if he couldn�t decide whether to
be mad at me or crumple into a fetal position and scream. Finally he chose an
emotion, the aura of absolute sorrow, the single trait that I despised coming
from anyone assuming the Kaiba name. The dam had burst, allowing
countless streams to gush forth, leaking from his lids like shards of broken
crystal.
In a voice I had trouble deciphering, he
shouted, �I�ll hate you if you do! If he leave me here alone, I�ll never
forgive you! Do you hear me, Seto Kaiba? I�LL HATE YOU IF YOU DO!�
Regretting the vehemence his anger and fear
wrought, my brother fell on top of me, moaning like I had done after hitting
the tiles, shedding tears resembling drops of Jupiter.
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Innocent Guilt