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True To Life	By : Rroselavy Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 3655 -:- 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
Title: True To Life (1/4)
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?
Seto Kaiba scowled at the exhibition catalogue in his hands, paging impatiently through the jewel-like images while he waited for his lawyer's phone call. He glanced around the art gallery where each image's real-life counterpart hung on the snow-white walls. A small red dot, indicating the canvas was not for sale, had been affixed to each label describing the title, medium and size. He closed the book impatiently, his hands tracing over the three-inch high letters embossed on the charcoal cover, fingers absently outlining the raised text, which read "Joseph Wheeler."
He had been trying for years to buy one of Wheeler's extraordinarily painted landscapes, and at this point it had become a full-blown obsession, complete with a full-time staff dedicated to acquiring something, anything that Wheeler's hands had created. To date, it had been a stunningly fruitless exercise.
He was still amazed by the intricacy and beauty that flowed from Wheeler's mind and on to each panel; his palette was a riot of colors, subtle ochre undertones of earthen hues layered with verdant greens and yellows over which majestic purples and red-tinged blues reigned. Each epic work evoked within Kaiba a serenity and stillness of the soul that he'd never experienced before, and if history were any indication, he would only be able to appreciate from afar.
His cell rang shrilly in the voluminous space, disturbing the reverent silence.
"What," he answered curtly, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off the lapel of his meticulously tailored suit jacket.
"I'm sorry, Sir," the disembodied voice of his lawyer, Tamagoto, avowed. "I gave his agent your exorbitant offer," he continued disdainfully; the amount of money Seto was willing to spend to own a Wheeler confirming his suspicion that something was seriously wrong with his employer, "but Mr. Wheeler has refused it."
He looked around hopelessly at the treasures that surrounded him, once again completely out of his reach. This was a totally new experience for the handsome CEO. As one of the richest men in the world, he always managed to get his hands on whatever he happened to desire, and yet here he was, once again thwarted in his pressing need to own one of Wheeler's exquisite paintings. As his eyes darted over the canvasses, he dismissed the sudden impulse to snatch one and run out the front doors of the gallery like some common thief. That would make for some very interesting publicity, he grinned humorlessly. He wondered, though, if that desperate action would convey the seriousness of the many offers he'd made to the evasive blond.
"Tamagoto, tell me something. Why is it so difficult to conclude a simple transaction?" He snapped, not wanting to believe what his gut was telling him -- that Wheeler was deliberately refusing his offers simply because they came from ~him~. He couldn't believe that the blond would hold a grudge against him for things that had happened between them back in high school.
"I'm at a loss, Sir." Tamagoto said timidly, knowing he could be signing his own pink slip. "I thought the negotiations were going well, but then suddenly the counter-offer was withdrawn. This time it was ostensibly because the Museum of Modern Art has just offered to buy the entire series." Both men knew that the MoMA's offer for the collection would have been well below what Kaiba had been willing to pay for just one of the immense paintings. And the time before that, it had been another collector who'd outbid him at the last minute, and the time before that, his offer had been passed over and the painting he'd had his eye on was instead donated to the hospital where Wheeler's sister's eyesight had been saved, the brunet thought irritably. The CEO had even tried to possess one as an anonymous bidder, but his bids were rejected; the blond insisted on knowing who his collectors were. "But we did make some headway, Mr. Kaiba, Wheeler has agreed to meet with you to discuss the possibility of you commissioning a painting from him."
At that news, the brunet's spirits lifted somewhat. This was progress, in the past, Wheeler had categorically refused to meet with his representatives; it had been a last-ditch effort to suggest that the two ex-classmates meet at a neutral location to talk. He'd thought for sure the blond would refuse him; they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, or on any terms at all, for that matter.
"We can meet at the Church Bar in the TriBeCa Grand." Kaiba stated petulantly. That was as 'neutral' as he was prepared to get--the lobby bar at the hotel he was staying at for the duration of his visit to New York City.
"I'll pass that along, Sir. May I suggest another location if he balks? You do realize that he's never agreed to do a commission-"
"No," he answered sourly. "If he refuses that meeting place, then we'll forget about it." The CEO snarled, defeated.
"If that is what you wish, Sir. I will get back to you with his answer."
"Tamagoto, wait. If he refuses, arrange another place, one more to his liking." He said, grimacing as he felt his advantage skating away. He hated the frustration that welled in his body at the thought that another opportunity to buy a Wheeler would slip through his fingers, hated that that third-rate duelist could finally best him at something. He knew he should just give up, but he brushed that intrusive thought aside. Quitting was never an option. Once he set his mind on a goal, he had to achieve it, or examine every possible avenue towards accomplishing it before admitting defeat. As the tall brunet took one more stroll around the gallery before heading over to Balthazar to meet his brother Mokuba for lunch, he knew that he was not yet ready to cut his losses and move on.
* * *
"Seto, why do you dress like an old man?" Mokuba greeted him disapprovingly.
"You're half an hour late," he replied peevishly. "And at least I don't try to hide the fact that I'm one of the richest men in the world," he added, casting a critical eye at his sibling's frayed jeans, beat up sneakers and threadbare t-shirt advertising some fictitious crab shack.
Mokuba slouched into the seat across from his brother. "It's what's in fashion, and this is one of the trendiest restaurants in New York." he shrugged. "At least I look like I belong here."
Kaiba pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted irritably. "Look, I didn't ask you to lunch to argue over the way you dress. I wanted to find out how you are, to catch up with you." His arctic blue eyes stared into Mokuba's steel grey ones searchingly.
"I'm fine, Seto." Mokuba replied crossly, bending his arms across his chest.
"I was wondering if you had plans to come back home over the summer."
"Home? ~This~ is my home now." Mokuba snapped, rising out of his chair. "I told you that, Niisama!" Seto's heart clenched at the ancient term of endearment. "You can't control me anymore. I'm an adult now, and I don't need you looking out for me!"
"Mokuba," Kaiba said quietly. "Don't make a spectacle of yourself. Sit down ... please?" He grimaced and rubbed his temples.
Mokuba stood staring at his older brother for a few seconds before his expression softened. He slid back into his chair. "I'm sorry Seto, it's just that I love it here. It's so far away from Domino City ... and from the past. I need that. I can't stand living in that stuffy old house with all those memories, and have no idea why you continue to. Besides, all our-my friends are here, too. Why don't you spend the summer here instead?" He offered.
Kaiba stared forlornly at his younger brother, unable to stem the sadness that saturated every fiber of his body. Mokuba had always been the center of his life, his raison d'etre, but little by little his younger brother was slipping away, building his own life in which Kaiba was only a satellite, orbiting around the vortex of New York City, Mokuba's friends, and his graduate studies. He wondered if this was how a mother felt after her children had fled the nest and no longer needed her nurturing and care giving.
"Earth to Seto," Mokuba interrupted his thoughts, and he smiled wanly at his brother and shrugged noncommittally.
"Perhaps I can spend a couple of weeks here in August."
"Cool! I'll rent out a house in the Hamptons," Mokuba said brightly, and he rattled off several of the local hotspots that he would take his big brother to, while Kaiba listened intently, content to hear his brother's animated voice, which reminded him of the young boy Mokuba used to be. "Or maybe you'd prefer Fire Island? I know Joey-"
"Wheeler?" Kaiba snapped out of his reverie.
"Yes, Seto. Joey Wheeler. You remember him? He says Fire Island has a great gay community."
The turn the conversation had taken made Kaiba decidedly uncomfortable. "Look Mokuba, I don't need to hang out with my 'kind.'"
"I didn't mean it that way ... it's just he says it's really cool there, really laid-back. It sounds like a place you'd like-"
"Oh, since when is he the arbiter of my good taste?"
"Why do you still hate him so, Niisama?" There it was again, that term so carelessly dropped, forcing Kaiba's heart to tighten in his chest. "I thought you were interested in collecting some of his work."
"I am," Kaiba sighed. "But, apparently he's uninterested in selling anything to me. And I don't hate him, I just found him, and all your friends for that matter, incredibly annoying."
"But you always singled him out, more than anyone else." Mokuba persisted, to which Kaiba only shrugged. "Maybe you should talk to him about it, buying a painting from him, that is. In person."
"Why? Do you know something you aren't telling me?" Kaiba's icy eyes bore into his brother.
"No," Mokuba shrugged, suddenly unable to meet his brother's steady gaze. "Hey, I'm kinda hungry, can we order something?" He asked, quickly changing the subject, and flagging their waiter.
Even though he sensed Mokuba was keeping something from him, Kaiba let it go. He would find out soon enough, when he met with Wheeler. But it bothered him that Mokuba saw the blond regularly, that he was still part of Wheeler's close-knit circle of friends. He knew that it shouldn't annoy him, that same offering of friendship had been extended to him time and time again throughout his adolescence. Though, at the time, he'd scorned their overtures, and instead had met any approach with hurled insults and sneers, secure in the knowledge that he had the unconditional adoration of his younger brother, and singularly focused on shielding Mokuba from the harsh realities of life. Over the years though, Mokuba had drifted away from him, and he was reminded again of his earlier analogy of being a mother with an empty nest. Though women usually had their husbands, and once the children were out of the house, parents could resume the relationship that had brought them together in the first place. This was where he was at a distinct disadvantage, there was no one waiting for him, no one else who'd put aside their needs along with his to share in the joys and frustrations of raising a family. He'd poured all his energy and focus into parenting and protecting Mokuba, and had repressed his own physical and emotional needs. He'd convinced himself that he didn't need anyone, and only recently had discovered how wrong he was, and how lonely he was.
He thought about the paintings he'd seen earlier at the gallery and the one in particular that he currently coveted. It was a huge canvas titled "The Sea and the Sand." In the foreground, scrubby pines were depicted, their needles shining silvery under a beating sun. Sand dunes rose behind them in the mid-ground before they undulated into the flat shoreline. The sea itself was roiling, foamy waves crashing against the beach in the distance, but the land and sea were dwarfed by the vast sky-shards of azure that pierced huge cumulous thunderheads. Standing in front of the immense display of nature, Kaiba couldn't help but feel inconsequential, as if he were just a grain of sand on that distant beach. But rather than being dismayed by that revelation, he had found a certain amount of solace in it, and as he'd lost himself in the vista before him, he'd felt markedly calm and at ease.
While they waited for the food to arrive, Kaiba asked, "How is Wheeler? Has he changed much?"
"He's still the same in a lot of ways, but he's much happier since leaving Domino."
"I never thought he was unhappy-"
"That's because you never paid attention to him or anyone else. If you had, you would have known how miserable his home life was." Mokuba admonished.
Kaiba snorted. No one's home life could have been worse than his was after Gozaburo had adopted him and his brother. "Whatever," he replied and moved the conversation to a safer topic--Mokuba's graduate studies in international affairs at the New School.
* * *
It had been a long, tedious day of meetings and conferences, and Kaiba was content to finally be sitting out on the private rooftop garden adjacent to his hotel suite, sipping an exquisite single malt scotch, while staring out at the twinkling lights of the downtown skyline. As he relaxed there, his thoughts turned once again to that damned painting that had haunted him throughout the day. He had to own it. Forget about a commission, when he met with Joey Wheeler, he would force him to name a price for the work, and finally one of the blond's paintings would be his. The irony wasn't lost on him that Joey Wheeler finally had something that he wanted. And how the blond would enjoy that, he thought cynically. Regarding his past relationship with Wheeler, and Mokuba's continuing one, brought about an intense longing for companionship. His loneliness reached a crescendo, enveloping him in and dulling his senses in the unseasonably warm spring night. He drained his glass and directed his gaze to the heavens above him, marveling at how few stars were bright enough to be visible in the night sky over the city.
He should have been happy-he had everything-more money than he could possibly spend in this lifetime, his health, and the love of his brother, despite their growing distance. But what he craved now in life was companionship. Not the kind he could buy at the most exclusive clubs in the world, the genuine kind, the foundation of life itself. As he gazed at the brightest star in the firmament, he thought to himself, 'I wish there was someone who loved me, who just wanted to be with me.' For a fleeting second, he felt as if he were floating outside of his body looking down on himself alone on the rooftop terrace, and then just as quickly, that feeling dissipated. Suddenly feeling bone-tired, he went back into his posh hotel room, washed up, brushed his teeth, undressed and crawled in between the sumptuous sheets. Before he drifted off to sleep, he wondered idly if tomorrow would be the day that he would meet up with Joey Wheeler, and as he slipped into sleep, he thought that then he and his lawyer would finally put an end to the blond's harassment.
~TBC~
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True To Life