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I Don't Know Why The Caged Bird Sings	By : yllimilly Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 5322 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh nor its characters. This was written for fun, not for profit.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
AN Thank you aleusha, Ziven, Rain and you, dear reader! I hope you enjoy, Milly

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I (don’t) know why the caged bird sings

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chapter six

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It was a dreadful bus ride getting to that part of town, but it was worth it because the food was just that good at the Mandarin Garden. In Joey’s opinion it was by far the best all-you-can-eat place in Domino. It compensated for his mother’s presence; today he was about to have brunch with her, and her ‘friend from church’.

Joey was standing next to the lady he’d offered his seat to, and he himself clung to a worn out plastic loop that hung from a metal pole. He looked at the mini malls, then at the bus’s scratched windows. He’d never quite lost the reflex of trying to identify the tags people left there late at night, just in case he might recognize one.

It took Joey resolve to resist playing with his brand new shaving cut. It was itching, down on his neck, just where the hem of his sweater touched his skin. The bus came to his stop; a bunch of people were also heading for the mini-mall that hosted the Mandarin Garden. He waved the lady goodbye and got off.

Brr. He hugged himself. Today wasn’t the warmest day.

Joey had hoped, when he got dressed this morning, that the weather would get slightly warmer, with, you know, the sunshine and all. But the wind had picked up quite a bit and with nothing more than a sweater thrown over the sacred polo his mother loved so much, Joey felt like the breeze went straight to his bones. He cut through the parking lot, jogging to the restaurant which had a bright yellow and red banner promoting its AMERICAN BRUNCH WEEKENDS 9AM TILL 3.

He pulled the sweater over his head as soon as he got inside, hoping the heating in the lobby would warm him up. Joey usually dressed pretty lightly even in winter, but the polo had really short sleeves that seemed to tighten around his biceps and maybe cut off his circulation. Joey got in line behind an elderly couple and, looping his sweater over one forearm, started prodding at his arms - had he gained muscle weight, or had the polo shrunk in the drier?

“Um, how many people?”

Joey was startled by the voice of the hostess, a girl about his age. A bit embarrassed, he gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh, I’m with people.”

The girl looked down at her clipboard, then at him.

“Wheeler,” he quipped. He could never remember what name her mother used for unofficial purposes.

The girl scanned the sheet. “Hm, nope.”

“... Creighton?”

“Hm... Yes. Over there.” She pointed one of the many gymnasium-sized dining rooms.

He flashed her a winsome smile and a warm ‘thanks’ that made her become a bit coy, then trod unhurriedly towards his destination, reminding himself that no matter how good the food looked and smelled, Joey didn’t actually want to be here.

His mother hadn’t ever used her boyfriend’s last name before. Things looked like they were starting to change... Joey braced himself for some news he didn’t want to hear over the course of this ‘family brunch’. If his mother was taking the decision to remarry, her control-freak side would take over for the entire year preceding the date of the ceremony. Even worse, it would mean that she’d actually have to divorce her ex, and the last thing Joey needed right now was to act as a go-between / mediator / advisor for his parents. His father would simply not take it well and there would be no end to his whining and bitching. Yes, bitching.

Fortunately, Elaine Wheeler’s religiosity made the whole scenario very unlikely.

A bit glum from these depressing scenarios, Joey had to force a smile when he finally got to the table.

“Hello mom.”

The petite woman looked up, wiping the corner of her lips with a napkin before speaking up.

“You’re late!” She exclaimed, surprised and accusing all at once.

Her ‘friend’, a beefy guy that had her ex’s exact silhouette, twisted in his chair to look at Joey, but not all the way, so they didn’t make eye contact.

“Hey there Jim.” Then, to his mother: “Yeah, missed the first bus.”

“Your father could have given you a lift,” she muttered, not missing a beat.

Joey judged it best not to tell her the car had been sold three months ago to repay some debts. He set up to sit next to his mother, but she stood up and frowned, barring his way.

“What kind of manners are these,” she said playfully, the creases on her forehead smoothing a bit. She toed up, grabbed her son by the shoulders and gave him the ritual peck on the cheek. “That’s my boy.” Joey couldn’t stifle a chuckle; no matter how much he wanted to be upset at the little woman, he just couldn’t when she acted this way.

“Mom, I’m seventeen now.” He squirmed away from the ‘loving’ grasp.

“Oh, ‘seventeen years old’,” she mimicked. “You’re still a boy! Look at you, you can’t even shave yet,” she chided, pointing at the rash surrounding the shaving cut.

Joey touched the scrape on his neck by reflex and looked away. He was never quite sure how to handle his mother’s mood shifts. “You guys didn’t have to wait for me,” he said, noticing their squeacky clean, empty plates and assorted cutlery. The ice had started to melt in their drinks; there were many water creases on the paper table cloth where the glasses had been laid down, and picked up, repetitively.

“Of course we waited for you. So. Jimmy’s going to wait here, while we go grab our food.”

Joey unceremoniously dumped his sweater on the chair next to his mother’s, pretending not to hear the ‘tsk’ she let out, most likely in protest at his lack of manners. He followed her to the serving area.

So it was ‘Jimmy’ now? Okay. There was a little gleam of pride in her eye but Joey was less than eager to ask his mother about her romantic endeavours. And he hoped she would would always stay out of his.

Joey went for the stir-fried broccoli first, despite his mother’s frown. He did like to eat hash browns, little sausages, scrambled eggs, biscuits’ n’ gravy and all that. Really, he liked those. But he only had so many opportunities to go to Chinese buffet these days, and so the sight of general tao chicken and Singapore noodles was irresistible to him.

Of course, he did get criticized by his mother for his ‘unseemly picks’ and told how he should just ‘try and be normal’ for once. Joey had to grit his teeth; had he not worn her stupid polo? Had he not been extra careful to shave - twice - just so he could look preppy enough for her tastes? Wasn’t that normal enough?

They had to wait for Jim to come back with his first serving, and Joey knew he wasn’t allowed to touch his plate until everyone was served so that he could say grace. He looked around idly, hoping to deter any attempts at small talk his mother might fancy.

“Your father has such an irregular schedule. I never know when I can call,” she started.

“Uh,” Joey acquiesced.

“Do you know what he did last time? Do you know?”

“I don’t know,” Joey said, as interested as ever.

“He picked up and then - and then he hung up on me! Just like that! He didn’t even let me get to the answering machine! I swear, the bastard got caller ID just to spite me.”

“Hm.” This conversation couldn’t possibly get more fun.

“Where are you all this time, anyway?” She placed a napkin on her lap. “You’re never there when I call! Don’t you have any homework to do? Something? Do you even sleep there?”

“Um, yeah. Yeah.”

She studied him for a second, then resumed her monologue. “It’s the arcade,” she concluded, shaking her head disapprovingly. “The arcade. That’s not a very good habit to develop at your age,” she insisted, leaning closer and gripping his wrist to punctuate her words. Joey wanted to pull away but didn’t.

When your teacher’s hand feels nicer than your mother’s, there’s a problem.

“Yeah,” he said again, not caring too much that it wasn’t the most appropriate answer. Not the one she’d want to hear from him, anyway. He knew very well what she was alluding to with her ‘arcade’ sermon.

“It’s just that I’ve been at a, uh, friend’s place for a team project. This week. Yeah.”

Joey wanted to kick himself. He’d managed to avoid thinking about Kaiba until now, but it was too late. Everything and anything Kaiba related came back to his mind with full force. He wasn’t hearing what his mother’s babble anymore. Just Kaiba, Kaiba, Kaiba. Thankfully Jim got back to the table with his own heap of greasy, salty but oh so tasty protein.

“Now we can do Grace,” the woman announced like she was a Lady of the House from the Regency era.

Joey reluctantly held out his hands to his step-dad-thing and mother. He then bowed his head and tried to figure out what eloquent thing he had to say about how grateful he felt for his general tao and fried rice.

But now words came. Only a shape, a face, a voice. Kaiba.

Thank you God for... not... making me a sad, pathetic guy who sleeps in his own office. The mental image gave his heart a small squeeze. Joey might not ever be willing to trade his idiot parents for the lonely nights Kaiba must be having, everyday of his life, enshrouded in his self-aggrandizing loathing for the world around him.

“Today I thought Jimmy could say Grace,” his mother chimed in, disrupting Joey’s unproductive thinking process.

Joey frowned. Wasn’t Grace his thing? This was - this was perhaps the only moment in his teenage life, during which he felt there existed an actual, earnest filial bond between himself and his mother. Yes, that was when she respectfully drank in his words, lifted her head, pride glinting in her eye at the sight of her precious, pious son, then took a moment to smile at him before engaging her own meal. So Jimmy already had a head start. Joey had been too moody to notice.

The man’s words were lost on Joey. That prayer was ridiculously long and uselessly wordy. Get over yourself, this is just stuff we scooped on our plates. Not that Joey was ungrateful; it’s just that, in his opinion, Jim was overdoing it a bit.

Joey was losing his appetite.

When everyone parted hands, Joey’s felt moist; he resisted the urge to wipe them on his pants.

“I’ll be back,” he said, and got up before his mother could have a say in the matter.

He went back to the serving stations. One of the kitchen workers was a girl Joey knew from grade school. They did a bit of chit chat, both more than happy to skip a bit on work or family duties (which felt more like ‘work’ to Joey in fact). The girl mock-complimented him on his ‘preppy boy polo’ before returning to her duties.

Joey found himself wanting to just leave the restaurant right here and there, rather than walking back to his mother’s table.

He grabbed a hash brown on a new plate and slopped back to his table, unhurriedly.

“See? I’ve knocked some sense into you after all,” said his mother in guise of welcome. Jim said nothing; he wasn’t a talker. Or maybe he knew a budding argument when he saw one; and frankly, you needed that kind of sixth sense if you wanted to survive being around Elaine Wheeler a lot. “Do you want some of my bacon? Was there any left? It goes away so quickly.”

“Um, no thanks, I’m not too hungry,” Joey replied, pushing the Chinese plate on the vacant spot in front of him. “Damn, I forgot the ketchup.” He was about to stand up but a firm hand on his arm kept him in his seat.

“Now. You’re going to act your own age,” his mother warned, her sharper tone meaning business. “We’re eating. Together.”

Joey sighed.

“Oh will you,” she sighed in turn, exasperated. “Have some of mine, there,” she said, lifting up her plate so she could scrape some of the red condiment onto his.

He lifted an arm to prevent the transfer. “No, I’m fine, really.” Really. One thing he didn’t want to risk was an indirect kiss with James Creighton. “I’ll just have some of this,” and before he could realize what he was doing, Joey was scraping some of his own sauce onto the single hashbrown - some sweet, technicolor orange, general tao sauce.

“For the love of - Joey, what are you doing? Jimmy, say something!”

The man glanced at them both and wisely opted to ‘mind his own business’.

Joey pushed back the plate, a bit hazy.

She’s got a point, though - what am I doing?

“What’s gotten into you, Joseph?” She slammed her utensils on the table and lifted her hands in the air wordlessly.

I jacked off thinking of a guy I used to hate … and I enjoyed it.

That’s what.

Joey sectioned a corner of the potato galette with his fork, knowing very well that not using a knife would tick his mother even further. He stuck the thing in his mouth just to see how far he could get.

What am I doing?

Okay, pride had to play a role here. Joey chewed the thing with obvious effort. His mother finally looked away, but not without clicking her tongue in disapproval.

The teen gulped the bite down with iced water, well aware of his mother’s not so subtle spying. Knock it off, mom. “I’m getting some juice.”

He got up again and didn’t turn when he heard the sound of cutlery banging on the table. Again.

When Joey got back from the juice fountains, Jim’s seat was vacant. Oops. He’d probably chased the man away with his childish antics.

“I’m sorry Mom, it’s just - I haven’t gotten a lotta sleep lately and-”

“See? I told you; you shouldn’t have taken that part time job. I told you and you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Joey brushed it off. “Um, where’s Jim?”

“At Whitney’s,” she replied, motioning towards the giant drugstore across the parking lot.

“Oh.”

Then Joey remembered about the empty antacid bottle in his father’s cabinet. “Shit,” he muttered to himself.

His mother gave him a slightly less reproachful look - one that was bordering on concern. “Why, did you wanna go? Do you need anything?”

“Yeah... Um, no,” he amended carefully. “No, I’m all good. I’m all good.”

“Joey...” She started more softly. “Joey, don’t hide anything from your mother.” Her gaze had softened.

“No really, that was just - I thought I needed something but I remembered I got some, so I’m good, really. Yeah. How’s the bacon?”

His mother considered him for a second.

“You’ve never been a good liar. Like your sister,” she said, her eyes flickering out the window.

Great. Just what he needed. To be reminded of his late baby sister’s cute little, forever endearing flaws.

There he was caught in a cleft; if he didn’t say he did need something, she’d get upset. And if he did say he needed to buy antacids and for whom, she’d get in a fit and vent about how irresponsible her low-life of an ex was to rely on his son to take care of him... And of course, Joey couldn’t very well say he needed the antacids for himself; she’d freak out on how much too young he was to suffer such a scarring ailment.

And that would only cement her belief that the stress of a part-time job was too much for him to handle.

“Um... I need... Um... Band-aids.”

“I can see that,” she chuckled, looking at his fresh cut, and Joey let have her little laugh.

“Yeah.”

“You should eat some more before we go. I told the bus boy not to take your plate away.”

“Thanks, mom.” He pulled the plate towards him, hoping that his hunger would return even if only to please his mom.

“They’d be charging us. Imagine? All that good food,” she went on, and Joey’s face fell a little.

Some people just don’t change.

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Jim gruffly declined the offer to ‘go back in the store? We’re going to get something for Joey’. He would wait in the car with a game of sudoku.

Mrs Wheeler had apparently been overwhelmed by a wave of (guilt induced) generosity, for it had suddenly become imperative that Joey be fully equipped with a shaving kit, band-aids, cotton swabs and ear plugs ‘so that you can focus when you study’. The implication was that Mr Wheeler watched too much television, too loud. Well, it was indeed quite true that the man’s couch potato days weren’t a thing of the past. If anything, the habit had only worsened since the separation.

The mother and son pair had to switch over from basket to cart, because the woman decided Joey should stock up on value-pack amounts of TP of the finest quality available. Joey’s meek refusals were met by his mother’s insistence that he be the only one to use it. Which was a bit ridiculous. What was he going to tell his dad, not to touch the thing? You can’t wipe your ass with that, dad, mom bought it for me. Actually the man would be more than happy to indulge; if he knew the thing had been acquired with his ex-wife’s money, which he believed to be rightfully his...

Joey winced at the mental image, blindly following his mother through the aisles. She stopped and looked left, then right, hesitating.

“You don’t have cologne, do you,” she risked, not doing a very good job at hiding her budding excitement.

“No... I can’t wear it at school. People can be allergic,” he explained, regretting more every passing second to have agreed to let his mother buy him toiletries.

She closed in on him. “But when you’re going to meet a girl...”

He frowned. “No, really. No perfume. Thanks anyway,” he said firmly.

She pouted - pouted! - and her talking hands dropped to her sides. “Well, then.” She led him to the aisles that had the stuff you can actually eat. Joey found himself craving a Red Bull.

“I know what you’re thinking,” the woman said. “But you know those aren’t good for your health.”

“I know.”

“But... you’re working so hard.” And just like that, she grabbed a can and placed it in the cart under Joey’s astonished eyes. “On one condition.”

“What’s the condition?”

She pointed a row of bottles on the shelf, reaching for some multi-vitamins. “These,” she said.

But Joey wasn’t paying attention to the fine print on the label or the benefits of fruit flavored dietary supplements.

The antacids his dad normally used were right there before his nose, on the upper shelf, so far yet so close. And all Joey could do was eye them longingly.

.

The unplanned car ride back to the apartment Joey shared with his dad was punctuated by his mother’s ‘I can’t look’ and ‘look at this, oh dear, just look at this, what are there people doing to themselves’ as they drove through the less fortunate parts of her former neighbourhood, and their colorful inhabitants. Easy for her to say now that she’d shacked up with a middle-class, bungalow-owning resident of one of Domino’s decent suburbs.

“I’m going to check the tires,” she said as soon as the car stopped in front of their destination. There was a logic behind that action; there wasn’t a day where some jerk or other hadn’t smashed a beer bottle on the pavement. There were nails and pieces of scrap metal, too - God knew where those came from. It’s like the poor neighborhoods didn’t need to be taken care of, that it was okay to litter.

Joey carried his bulky package to the front door of his building, buzzing with his one empty hand, holding the bag on a lifted knee.

He waited patiently for his dad to wake up - or carry himself to the door, or whatnot.

“What’s she doing here,” came his dad’s voice through coarse reception.

“It’s just me, I’m droppin’ something off.”

A pause.

“She’s not coming in.”

“She isn’t comin’ in, dad. Open up.”

There was a longer pause.

Then the obnoxious buzzer rang, letting Joey in.

Three flights of stairs later he was at the door, which had been opened in advance for him. His dad was peering at the new car in the street through his dusty blinds. He didn’t turn to his son when he walked in.

“Some fuckin’ dick with a Volvo,” the older muttered to no one and the world at once.

Joey hastened to his bedroom. He heard the metallic click of the living room blinds popping back in place.

“What’s that?”

“Just some stuff,” Joey said evasively.

“She think I’m broke? She think I need her shit? What the fuck is that?”

“I dunno, dad, it’s just... one of those things, yanno.”

“Tell her I don’t need her shit,” the man barked. “Get that out. Tell her I don’t need her shit.”

Joey shifted his weight, trying to think fast on his feet. No way was he taking everything back to the car. “Look dad, it’s just stuff. It doesn’t matter.” When the man didn’t reply, Joey went on more confidently. “I’ll just leave it there, okay?” It was more of a rhetoric ‘okay’. Joey was past the age of asking his father permission. He was merely letting the man thinking he was still in charge, just to stay out of trouble. Without wasting more time he dumped the bagful of supplies on his bed and came back to the living room, stopping by the doorframe.

His father had gone back to peeping at his ex-wife again, muttering swear words between his teeth.

“I’m working a double shift tonight. Not coming back at midnight.” Then, when his father didn’t react: “Okay?” That wasn’t a rhetoric ‘okay’. It was a ‘can you take care of yourself’ okay.

The man grunted. Joey suddenly remembering that he would have to tell his mom about his double-shift, too. And that he wasn’t going to do the fundraiser after all. She wouldn’t be too happy about that.

“Uh, so I’ll get some eggs on my way back and-” Joey started walking towards the fridge for a quick check, but the man waved a dismissive hand at him, stopping the youth in his tracks.

“Never mind that.” The father’s voice had grown slightly less aggressive. “I can take care of that.” He sounded slightly ticked.

Joey stared at his shoes for a moment, hating that he knew - they both knew - that his father was probably not going to keep his word.

“Well, see ya.”

Waiting for a reply was futile. Joey jogged down the hallways and stairs, aware he’d already made Jim wait too long. The longer the wait the more his mom would get upset with him not doing the something-o-thon tomorrow.

He doubled back when he remembered about the Red Bull. The door to the apartment hadn’t been closed. Joey saw his father standing up by the sink, apparently lost in thought.

.

Joey got to work an hour early. He didn’t mind; he knew there was plenty of reading waiting for him in the staff room. Might as well have brought some homework, he thought.

Meh. He didn’t give a flying fuck about school right now. He wished he’d gotten to ride his wave of motivation a little longer, though. It felt kind of good to be a good student.

His parents just always made everything so depressing.

For some reason, reading about local business ventures was much more fun than reviewing high school math. Maybe because it wasn’t being forced down his throat; Joey was enjoying it precisely because he was deciding to read it.

He didn’t manage to focus, though, to get in the zone like last time. Four o’clock was coming and the more regular, day time staff was starting to leave - and Joey wasn’t one to turn down small talk. Especially from mature women praising his intellectual pursuits. Funny how he looked like the smart guy, now that he was reading about business and politics. Well, seen reading, for starters.

Joey put the magazines away and stashed his frozen dinners in the mini-fridge. He changed into his uniform and took off to his own ward, his thoughts slowly drifting back to Kaiba.

And to that god-damned essay. Not the new one he promised his teacher - damn it, now he had to take care of that, too - but no, the one he’d read out loud to Kaiba. The one Kaiba had perfectly memorized. A chill ran down his spine.

Kaiba had probably had to type the rest of the essay himself. With that quirky, unruly finger of his. Kaiba couldn’t possibly have gotten much sleep last night. Was that why he stayed off school grounds, today?

Maybe it wasn’t about hate, after all. Maybe Kaiba had simply slept in, rewarding himself with not having to attend the one social institution he disliked so intensely.

Why had Kaiba gone out of his way to pretend the two of them had indeed worked as a team? He had no incentive to. Joey still couldn’t make sense of it. What he was coming to terms with, though, was the possibility of Kaiba being gay.

Joey actually wouldn’t mind travelling back in time and trying to react differently, just for kicks. Just to see what would’ve happened. Surely Kaiba’s filthy mouth could be put to good use.

.

Guzzling his energy drink had been a bad idea.

It was like all his blood was being redirected to his penis. He’d never had such a massive erection at two in the morning.

And really, popping a boner in the vincinity of dying people was just peachy. Not to mention appropriate.

Because the thing was - he wasn’t actually horny. It was just this weird, random, mechanical half-boner, like he was constantly half mast, not big enough to tent his overalls like earlier, but just big enough that there was friction.

It was more of an annoyance than anything at this point, but it was bound to become a problem at some point. He dealt with it for now. He was almost done with the hallways, but at some point he’d have to enter patients’ rooms and that would just be awkward.

Kaiba-groping-your-knee-with-a-twitching-finger awkward.

So during his break Joey went into the nearest bathroom, locked himself in a stall and unzipped his pants.

If he pulled one off, he might just earn peace for a little while.

He’d never dared going solo at work. Too impractical. Too weird.

But this was an emergency. Drastic measures were needed.

He grabbed his dick but his hand wasn’t warm enough; he didn’t know if he wanted to sit down or stand up or... Lean on a wall... with his hand? His forehead? The tiles were too cold.

His mind took a shortcut straight to Kaiba’s mouth. No mental foreplay, only some good old fashioned, disembodied mouth fucking. And oh, it was so much more arousing than the washed up porno images he used to jack off to. Rather than a slow build up, the pleasure had surged to his loins.

Joey couldn’t even see Kaiba’s body in his mind’s eye. Just his thin, pink lips around his member, and a slight inward crease in his cheeks. Somehow, something didn’t match up. There was a glitch somewhere. But Joey had gotten noticeably hornier when the idea of sexing an imaginary Kaiba crossed his mind. No, not an imaginary Kaiba. If he was going to be honest with himself there- yesterday-

He thought it would’ve been hot if he’d let Kaiba go down on him right then and there, instead of standing up and calling everything off. Just to know that the all powerful Seto Kaiba - not just the man who towered above all Domino, but also the one who’d brought him down all these years - that the all powerful Seto Kaiba willingly take him all in was a confirmed turn on.

Joey winced, debating the ethics of his fantasies while trying to nurture his arousal, which was of course futile.

What did it matter? Who he thought about, whether or not it was right? No one would know.

No one cared.

Maybe Yugi and Tristan would care if they knew. Heck, Tris’ would be flat out freaked out. Yugi... Well considering he was gay himself... Would that change anything? What if Yugi also fancy Kaiba? Well, maybe not.

Joey had pretty much lost his boner by now. And the brief wave of lust he wished, again, he could’ve clung onto.

.

Joey’s heart was bathing in a dull but strangely bearable ache when morning actually came.

He decided to stand idly by a window to watch the sun rise. Not that he could see the actual sun, but the gradual paling of the sky’s blue gradients felt oddly comforting to him. Like it was a sign he was undergoing some kind of change. Something major, something important that was about to happen or maybe, rather, that had begun to take place around him. Inside of him.

Outside a few strategically placed windows started reflecting the sun, sending blinding specks of light his way. He squinted at first then averted his gaze; the trees’ baby green leaves fluttered lightly in a wind he couldn’t feel. He forced his eyelid wide open and let the light trickle into him; soon his vision was shrouded by a veil of yellow and orange that tinted everything around him.

He closed his eyes.

.

Joey was outside barely five minutes past the end of his shift, stretching his arms, relishing in the chill of the early Sunday morning breeze. He hoped it would get the stench of cleaning products out of his hair, skin, breath.

His feet took him to the bus stop area. Streets were pretty empty. The city felt peaceful like this, irradiated by the sunshine, barely tainted by the sound and smoke and bustle of machines and human beings.

Joey wasn’t sure how he felt like spending the rest of his day.

There was always the cancer fundraiser. His mom had been surprisingly okay with him calling off; understanding, almost. He’d win major brownie points in her book if he showed up right now. Plus he was all pumped up, jittery and hyper awake from all the taurine in his blood.

Actually he also felt a bit dizzy in a way. Better try and lay low a few hours despite his urge to parcour through downtown Domino.

So he had plenty of options. But.

Tristan was supposed to volunteer all day.

The game shop wouldn’t open until ten.

Well the arcade was always open... But his mother did have a point; it was an easy segue for gambling and the thought of falling in his father’s footsteps frightened him a little. Plus he was working so hard for the money - it would suck to spend it all on games, especially if he were to play alone.

There was homework to be done, but he had a hunch he wouldn’t be able to focus much on anything that didn’t involve moving. Plus he still - he still didn’t own the friggin’ book and bookstores would be pretty much closed all day.

A lone, early bird bus came into view, halting at the traffic light preceding the bus stop.

It was the bus that led to the posh area of Domino, on the fringe of which Kaiba lived.

What if he borrowed the book from Kaiba.

Yeah!

He could drop in, say hi, maybe say sorry, then borrow the book and leave.

Yeah, an apology was probably in order. Just to, you know, make it clear that, um, there aren’t any hard feeling or, erm...

The bus stopped for him. Joey hopped in on a whim, a spring in his step and a newfound flutter in his heart.

.

The flutter had flown away and the spring melted into a puddle of ‘why oh god WHY did I think this was a good idea’ when Joey got off the bus.

He immediately wished he hadn’t; he wished he’d stayed on board and gone back downtown...

Somehow it’d feel just like those times he’d walked out on Kaiba. Exactly the same. Running away.

It wasn’t too late to turn back, still. He was a good ten blocks away from the actual entrance to the gate of the KC estate. He could jog back to another bus stop, taking in the beauty of the two garage houses around him, the cropped lilac trees and little stone pathways, the marble bird baths and the hibernating rose bushes. He’d never seen this neighbourhood up close; he’d always come here at night and never actually seen the wealth and also beauty concentrated in this part of the city.

Normally, he’d be throwing up a little in his mouth, thinking of how many people these house owners had had to exploit in order to gather all that money. But today, somehow, Joey felt pretty compassionate about the world and was willing to give even the worst assholes some slack. Today he was ready to give all these rich pricks a figurative chance, to give them the benefit of the doubt and to imagine that yeah, maybe they’d gone through all kinds of hell too, before they got there, maybe there were violent husbands and adopted kids in these three story mansions.

He jogged towards the Kaiba estate instead.

It would be actually interesting to see it in daylight. Maybe it wouldn’t be so glum, so macabre as it was, to him, on his first visit.

Doubt resurfaced when he reached the gate. He didn’t want to look up at the security camera just yet. What..

What was Kaiba going to think?

There weren’t any guards at the gate.

It still wasn’t too late to head back...!

Kaiba wouldn’t know - Joey shook his head. Yes, Kaiba would learn about it, one way or another. He’d look at the footage of his security cameras and see Joey’s disheveled silhouette awkwardly standing at his doorstep. Then maybe use that to taunt Joey at school. Or even blackmail him. Well, probably not. Maybe Kaiba would never come back to school at all! Maybe their paths wouldn’t cross again for a long while, and then a few years later they’d meet again in unexpected circumstances, and Kaiba would be his old, usual hardened self and give Joey hell for having played him. Joey would have missed the chance to be on good terms with Kaiba...

“This is private property,” a male voice said from the intercom.

Joey looked up at the camera. “I’m here to see Kaiba,” he blurted out before he could think of anything else to say. “Erm, Seto Kaiba. Please,” he slipped before looking down at his feet again.

“Name?”

“Joseph Wheeler.” He thought they’d have him on file or something since last time.

There was a wait. It still wasn’t too late to leave...! Not like the security guards would be unhappy not to have to walk all the way to the gate from the distant manor to escort him back in.

But Joey’s feet were cemented to the cobbled stone path before his feet.

Gosh, what was he thinking? What was he going to tell Kaiba? ‘Oh hey, um, sorry you’re gay, I’m gay too but you sort of took me by surprise last time’ or something. Whatever that meant. Joey knew he couldn’t just pretend he was here to borrow a stupid book. He couldn’t believe his brain had fallen for that scenario. Oh yep, that sounds legit, go right ahead, Joey, Kaiba’ll fall for it. He is not gonna be pissed whatsoever to see you at his doorstep on a Sunday morning.

“Someone’s coming to escort you.”

“Huh, okay, thanks.”

Joey wasn’t even sure they’d heard him. Like they would care about his reply, anyway.

He looked at the grassy expanse through the bars of the gate. It was still cropped like a golf course, and maddeningly empty. He saw a dot in the sky, more like a colored heap of something, above the mansion. It was hard to judge the distance because it was so high in the sky, so far out and tiny. It might just me a bird but it seemed too big and wasn’t moving a whole lot.

Joey rolled the sleeves of his sweater, then remembered how it made them wrinkle in an ugly way (and that was his only clean sweater, so he couldn’t afford to ruin it). He unrolled them right away. He ran his fingers through his hair to try and make it look okay, patting it gently until he didn’t feel rebel bangs, then realized he’d flattened them out too much and ruffled his hair again to give it volume.

He’d repeated the whole process at least four times by the time a guard arrived.

They exchanged formal greetings before setting off to Kaiba’s house.

In the end Joey couldn’t resist trying to do small talk with the bulky man.

“It’s a bit chilly, eh.”

He’d expected the man to grunt or plainly ignore him.

“It is. Windy.”

Joey was a bit stumped at having been acknowledged by the man.

Then a strange thought crossed his mind.

“I’m thinking just now... How come you guys never do me a pat down? Or something like that? You don’t think I’m suspicious, showing up randomly, just like that, at nine in the morning?”

The man rose an eyebrow. “Should I be...?”

“No! No.”

They were approaching the manor. The man’s strides slowed down a little.

“Your file is clear. You’re not perceived as a threat. I can tell you that much.”

The word ‘threat’ ran icily through Joey’s veins. “Well that’s good to know,” he said flatly.

The man tsked. “But to answer your question, yes, we do have a policy of patting down everyone who enters these gates.” He gave a subtle glance at Joey’s pants.

“Okay.”

Joey wouldn’t even mind. He’d had his fair share of pat downs in his life. He knew exactly when to raise his arms and at what height and in what order he should empty his many pockets... These kinds of procedures were pretty universal.

They reached the imposing wooden doors of the KC mansion, and Joey stepped back to take it all in. Gosh, it did look gorgeous in daylight. The carved doorframe was sober but there was obviously a lot of skill involved. Even the metal handles looked too nice to be touched.

The door was opened for them by a woman he could now call by her first name.

“Hey Clarissa.”

Both staff members expressed a little surprise at the familiarity and perhaps, the genuine warmth in Joey’s voice.

“Hello again, Joseph.”

The male staff retreated to wherever. Clarissa was holding a - was that silver? - platter with little sweets on it. Well he assumed those were supposed to be edible; they, too, looked too nice to be consumed, like little pastel colored toys, or painted porcelain.

“Nah, I’m good. You can call me Joey if you want,” he said as his stomach growled.

The woman gave a light hearted laugh. “What was I thinking! You haven’t had breakfast yet, have you.”

“No...” He gave her a dubious glance. “Was it... were you expecting me or something?” His brows knit a bit further.

“No, no, these are simply little treats I keep ready for guests. Come on in, I’ll make you something.”

She was being way too... nice to him.

“Wait, no, I, I’m just here to pick up something. Pick something up.”

“Oh, are you?” She asked, not looking like she was taking him too seriously. “Right now Kaiba happens to be free. It’d be a shame not to stay a little longer.”

This was getting too odd for his tastes. Then, a realization. “Does he know I’m here?” Joey asked, not as smoothly as liked.

She looked a little disconcerted. “Well, I was under the assumption he’d simply forgotten to tell me about it. Does he know?” There might have been a tinge of mischief in her eyes, but then again, Joey didn’t exactly know her, so he couldn’t be sure.

“That’s what I’m asking!” Joey replied, way more needily than he’d like. “I mean - sorry, I didn’t mean to sound impatient. It’s just that...” He sighed, hated how rehearsed his new favorite excuse for everything excuse sounded. “I haven’t gotten too much sleep lately, you see.”

She switched the tray to her other hand, giving Joey a pensive look over. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Just come; I’ll make you a fruit plate.”

Joey’s stomach couldn’t say decline the offer.

.

They had walked way too fast to the kitchen area. Joey had barely had any time to register the artfully painted ceilings, carved furniture, antique chandeliers. This part of the Kaiba home was just as awesome as what he’d previously seen. Except of course Kaiba’s office, which was pretty desolate and just... sad in comparison. He hoped Kaiba spent a lot of time in these gorgeous rooms, but the little voice in Joey’s head knew he probably didn’t. It’d do him, good though.

What a waste.

“You can still have meringues if you’d like,” Clarissa said, drawing him from his reverie. Joey had devoured - as politely as a starved teenage boy could - the artfully arranged mangoes, cherries, strawberries, pineapple and kiwi slices laid out before him on a porcelain serving plate.

“Oh, um, I’m okay.” He didn’t actually know what a ‘muh-ring’ was. “I’ve never had mango for breakfast, that was pretty tasty.”

Clarissa mentioned something about vitamins. He couldn’t really focus on what she was saying, and he didn’t mind. He also didn’t mind that she wasn’t taking him straight to Kaiba and didn’t mind, either, not knowing where he was or where he was doing. Or what he was doing here. He was just feeling good.

It was strange. Yeah, strange. Being at Kaiba’s place without being near Kaiba. The maid was so nice to him... He wished his mother could be more like her. They should meet up or something.

“So where’s Kaiba?” Joey asked, because he’d have to at some point.

“He’s outside with his brother.”

“Mokuba?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t ask how or why he knew his name.

“I guess I better go see him right away, then. He’d be pretty pissed if he knew I’d been helping myself to his food without his permission.”

“Whatever are you saying!” She waved a hand in the air. “He’ll be happy to see you. It’ll be a nice surprise,” she added empathically.

Erm, no. I don’t think so.

She looked so happy, though. He didn’t want to burst her bubble. It was still jarring, to him, how … mother-hen like she was when talking about her employer. And how Joey was the target of these sort of confessions. It didn’t make sense - Kaiba wouldn’t hire someone so willing to talk about him to whoever happened to walk by his home, which was, now that he thought about it, way too easy to get in.

“Do you want more?” He knew from looking at her face that this wasn’t a ‘polite’ offer; she looked as if though she’d gladly cook a whole pot of irish stew if it could make Joey happy.

“No, I better get to Kaiba,” he said with just the right amount of finality, so that he wouldn’t impolite to her, yet making it clear he meant what he said.

“Alright, then. Follow me.”

They passed a luxurious living room and a number of silent, closed doors on the way to ‘outside’.

And then they reached a vast, functional room that was well lit despite its northern orientation. The many windows gave to empty land, the same landscape he’d seen from Kaiba’s bedroom window. So did that room, too, face north? Why on earth would he do that, when that building had to have more rooms than the high school he attended? Couldn’t he pick a different spot to sleep, work and basically live? Kaiba and someone else - Mokuba presumably - were standing, apparently still, far away in the middle of the field.

“I’ll let you walk up to them.”

“Alone?”

“Why, yes. Wouldn’t it seem a bit strange if I came along?”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” He scratched the back of his head.

“What do I say- like, can I say you let me in, or... Wait, was it you who let me in?” Joey hadn’t even thought of asking until now.

She nodded, and ushered him outside.

.

Joey exited the mansion, but stayed in the shade for a little while. Just to take in his surroundings.

He recognized the colored spot in the sky to be, in fact, a kite. A kite!

A kite maneuvered by the shortest of two silhouettes standing in the distance. I wasn’t hard to tell which one was which. Kaiba was the one kneeling, dressed entirely in black. Mokuba was the one standing, wearing noticeably brighter colors.

Kaiba was flying a kite with his little brother on a Sunday morning. Joey’s heart squeezed a little. It was such a strange thing for Kaiba to be doing, so out of character, he’d guess...

Joey was only a few feet away from the house. Surely he was being watched at the moment, spied upon for any hints of suspicious behavior. He could feel Clarissa’s gaze on his nape. Alright, I’m going! He walked out of the cool, misty grass into the sunlight, which warmed him up a little.

The kite had an odd shape, like it wasn’t just the flat, diamond model he’d traditionally seen in books. Heck, he’d never even flown a kite himself. It looked like a lot of fun, actually.

Mokuba was the one flying the kite. Seto looked like he was helping him, kneeling by his side. Joey started to hear some of Mokuba’s excited, high pitched cries as the kite began circling the sky in ever wider motions. Joey was getting dangerously close to them. And they still weren’t noticing his presence.

Because they’re completely infatuated with one another.

Not in the romantic sense. Just in the normal, ‘I have someone that I love in my life’ type of infatuation. Kaiba was keeping close to Mokuba, an arm around his shoulders, sometimes his waist to keep him from flying off when a strong gust of wind made it harder for the boy to man the kite on his own.

Then Joey noticed something. Kaiba wasn’t looking up. Which was strange, because that’s the whole point of doing this; they weren’t putting on a show, they were doing this for themselves. Kaiba’s eyes were riveted on his little brother.

Look up, you moron. Look at the kite. Look!

Joey grit his teeth. He felt the urge to just run the few remaining hundred feet separating them, grab Kaiba’s head and force him to look at the miracle that was up in the sky.

But his eyes were glued to Mokuba. He was holding the boy so naturally, one knee on the ground, one knee in the air. That must’ve been uncomfortable a position to keep. Yet Joey hadn’t seen Kaiba move or shift or switch knees since he’d started walking towards them. Joey was now a few meters away from them. He’d have to come up with something to say and fast before they noticed him.

Kaiba ruffled a hand in Mokuba’s messy black hair, earning a meek protest from the child. That didn’t deter Seto from trying to be affectionate, though; he immediately brought Mokuba closer to him, kissing his hair lightly, or at least nuzzling his hair.

Joey was shocked. No, rather, he felt a pleasant warmth - one that was completely new and foreign - shoot through his chest.

He took a few steps further, opening his mouth to make his presence known. He was five, maybe six feet away from the man.

Mokuba let out a gleeful cry and Kaiba laughed along, cajoling his little brother some more.

Joey had never heard Kaiba laugh.

He kicked some weed with the tip of his foot.

“Um, hey... Hey guys.”

Kaiba first glanced at him and then - and then he abruptly craned his neck to look at the intruder; for a split second Joey could read on his features a look of perfectly unguarded, sheer surprise. Joey wanted to wave his hand as if to greet him, sheepish grin and everything, but the CEO gave him a glare so swift, so hostile, so venomous it nearly choked Joey and stopped his heart from beating.

.

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