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I Don't Know Why The Caged Bird Sings	By : yllimilly Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 5321 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh nor its characters. This was written for fun, not for profit.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
I (don't) know why the caged bird sings

SetoJou

by Milly
This story starts out as angst, which makes way to drama, which in turn makes way to romance. It's always a mix of all three genres, and it's always pretty dark, although it does get brighter and brighter (and sexier, too...!)
The title is indeed taken from Maya Angelou's powerful poem, I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, which I encourage all you of you to read. It's not only beautiful, meaningful and moving; it's also the thesis for this entire story.
Themes: bereavement and death, sexuality including sexual orientation, hinted abuse, family issues, coming of age.

chapter one

A year ago, if you told Joseph Wheeler he'd be standing here like a dork, raising his head so he could give the KC Corp security cameras a better look at his face, he'd have laughed. Then called you an idiot. Maybe punched you in the gut, if you so happened to be named Seto Kaiba.
But no. There he was. And there wasn't anything spectacular about it.
A whole summer spent moving boxes full time in a meat packing plant did much to lessen his taste for his fist powered, teenager tantrums. When his baby sister made him promise not to quit school for her, he had no choice but to give up on processed meats and sign up for a part time janitor job instead. In a hospital. You had to work all kinds of crazy hours, but at least the pay was the best, and working conditions were good thanks to the union.
A security staff of imposing stature opened the gates for Joey. He had to quicken his pace to keep in step with the man's long strides. The Kaiba estate wasn't the pastoral type, merely one empty expanse of minutely cropped green grass. Like a deserted golf course. A sparsely lit alley split it in two symmetrical halves. Everything felt barren, especially the lone mansion enthroned in the center.
He was made to wait in a lobby the size of his stepfather's crowded bungalow. Except that this room didn't feel small with its cathedral ceilings, exquisite furniture, and a painting taller than himself - the house's family portrait.
It was the austere figure behind the KC empire, Kaiba's deceased father, a modern day Stalin look alike, posing with his two adoptive sons. Joey's eyes remained glued to the painting, intent on deciphering the look on Seto's younger face, when a female voice beckoned him.
"You are to be escorted to Kaiba's quarters."
She was about his height, older than he was but too young to be his mother, dressed in the traditional black and white maid outfit, frills and crisp collar and all. Joey resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He took a deep breath instead, to calm himself down. Even retrieving his dad's alimony was a less bureaucratic process than paying Seto Kaiba a visit.
Well, he wasn't exactly visiting. This was the only time slot and place Kaiba could afford meeting up with Joey to work on a school assignment. Yes, just that. The prodigy billionaire CEO was having a friend over to work on a school assignment. Except that what binded them wasn't friendship. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Joey was led through carpeted hallways decorated before the two World Wars. Cast iron chandeliers actually lit aflame (real flames, not light bulbs). Epoch photographs in reverse chronological order. Rows of men standing in front of a factory. Tired faces. Black and white. A bonnet clad young woman sitting in front of a mustached industrial, cropped in an oval frame fading into beige. Stern faces. Sepia.
He couldn't quite imagine Seto living in an environment like this. He didn't quite look like the aristocrat he was made out to be in this decor. Well Joey, for one, certainly didn't blend in, with his scruffy hair and shoes, his ragged jeans and his distinctive, unrefined strut.
Joey had lost track of where they were, how many corners they'd turned, how many closed doors they'd walked by in silence.
They passed through a thick, ebony door that creaked. The maid's heels clicked on the marble floor of the new room before them.
Quite a sight.
It was octagon shaped, taller walls with two huge windows that gave in to the blackness of the light. Joey couldn't see whether there were trees beyond them, or whether they gave to vast, hilly green terrain. The maid walked to the other side of the room but Joey remained, taking in the livelier part of Kaiba's mansion. Potted trees. Probably rare ones, too. Davenports and antique little pieces of furniture he couldn't find a use for.
There were paintings, too, Renaissance-like, that he vaguely remembered having seen in history books. Too bad he knew nothing about any of them. Those were probably originals, too, he thought. He couldn't imagine Kaiba settling down for anything less. The maid produced a keyring from her frilly apron and unlocked the door, naturally expecting Joey to come along. Before walking into the aisle with her, he looked back one last time at the unusual room they were about to leave behind.
Above the door they'd come from, he recognized the Binding of Isaac. His mother would be congratulating herself if she knew that she hadn't sent Joey to Sunday school throughout childhood for nothing. The painting gave a lasting impression on Joey. It was rather somber. Abraham's fingers held his son's head in place, a knife in the other hand. Isaac's face was hidden; his body, weak and naked; his limbs, contorted. Joey let his eyes linger on the tragic scene before him. He swallowed, then looked away, closing the door behind him. He jogged to catch up with the maid.
Then they were in another wing, distinguishable from its remarkably different design. Brushed steels, glass, geometrical shapes and jagged lines, nothing like the museum worthy elements he'd seen since he set foot inside the mansion.
They arrived to a halt before an open door. Beyond it, a room dark save for the faint glow of a computer screen. It cast grave shadows on the impassible features of its occupant.
"Mister Kaiba." From the maid's tone, Joey couldn't tell whether she was introducing her employer to Joey, or if she was warning Kaiba of the intruder's presence. She bowed to Joey and promptly walked away, leaving him to his own devices.
He stepped into the living room. Office. Bedroom? Joey wasn't sure which.
Kaiba didn't make a move to acknowledge his presence. Didn't flinch, either, when Joey walked past him without a word. Deciding that was permission enough, Joey plopped down in one of the luscious couches beckoning him.
He breathed out and closed his eyes. Man, that couch was something else. More comfortable than his own bed, even. Not that it was hard to achieve. He wanted to doze off but he knew he wouldn't because he'd had too much energy drink in the taxi ride to the Kaiba mansion. He couldn't risk falling asleep anyway; too many short nights in a row. There would be no coming back if he allowed himself to close his eyes now. He just had to keep going.
"You're early." A reproach.
Joey sat up and turned to Kaiba, who kept typing away at his laptop, shoulders slightly hunched forward, neck craned towards the blinking screen.
"At least I'm not late." Defensive.
The tone was set. So be it. Joey regretted getting himself in what clearly would end in a mess. Maybe a few bruises. But that wasn't so bad. He didn't mind a good fight. He was rusty, but he'd enjoy the adrenaline rush nonetheless.
"I'm not ready yet. You will have to wait," Kaiba replied, his voice not necessarily cold per se, but rather, sounding like came from far away, like when one is deeply focused on something.
Don't talk back. Be the better man. Gotta be the better man.
Frankly, being ordered around was the one thing that always set Joey on fire. But somehow, the apparent lack of snark and disdain, the neutral tone in which Kaiba spoke was almost... frustrating for some reason.
Perhaps because it gave Joey no legitimate reason to be angry at him.
Perhaps it was because Kaiba was plain ignoring him.
Okay, so Moneybags had learned some manners.
Or was it a new tactic? To piss him off more and get away with it.
At any rate, Joey still didn't enjoy being in Kaiba's presence. The flat screen TV on the wall was calling to him. It was about ten o'clock, and one of the shows Joey used to watch, well before he got the part time job, was on right now.
Heck, he didn't have to watch that show. A smorgasborg of good and bad television awaited inside that little black box. There was no doubt, in Joey's mind, that that Kaiba had premium membership to every channel in the world.
Well, maybe not. He wasn't the type to throw money away. Something he respected him for. (Perhaps the only thing.)
Meh. It was funny. Joey tried to imagine Seto sitting down to watch TV, and couldn't. Kaiba plus fun just didn't add up together.
Maybe that expensive toy was for Mokuba.
Joey convinced himself he didn't really want to watch TV after all. But he knew, deep down, that he was likely to be shot down with a nasty remark, and his pride didn't want to risk it.
It sucked to be held up by Kaiba like this, but it could be worse. He glanced at him; Kaiba looked as focused as ever. Not like 'school-focused'. This frenesy was something else altogether.
Joey's eyes watered a little. He was tired and... Not quite sure he could hold on until morning for the work shift to come at the hospital.
Ah, the wait. It was killing him. Joey hadn't always been that impatient. Had he?
His body started misbehaving. At first, it was his knee.
Jumping.
Bouncing up and down.
When it wasn't sufficient enough a release, Joey began biting his nails. He might gone a bit too strong on the energy drinks, but he needed it. He had a night shift to cover after this; the very reason why he'd arrived here early in the first place. He needed to be in his overalls, a mop in hand, at midnight sharp.
But telling Kaiba about it - exposing his concerns - was out of the question. No way he'd give himself on a silver platter - he, the working class boy, washing sick people's excrement for a living. It was too good for Kaiba. The mocking wouldn't stop, and maybe the mutt jokes would come back, too.
When he could hold it any longer, Joey sprang up from his seat, however cozy it was. "Look, can we just get working? I can't stay here all night," he said.
No reaction.
He walked up to Kaiba, standing next to him expectantly.
"Come on man, stop being a dick." He slammed his hand on the desk, hoping to distract Kaiba. And maybe for dramatic effect? "Other people have lives, too, in case you didn't know. I already came all the way here" for you, and I had to switch shifts, too, trading my usual for something shittier that'll fuck up my sleep schedule. So let's get going. "So, yeah," he added, to soften the tone and um, make a point?
"I'd be done quicker if you let me be," Kaiba said simply, almost like a parent explaining something to a child. His stopped moving for a second, his fingers were hovering over the keyboard, waiting to be put to use again.
Joey noticed something was wrong with Kaiba's hands.
"You're shaking," he remarked, regretting instantly that it might be interpreted as concern.
"I know," said Kaiba with a hint of impatience.
"Why?" Joey genuinely just wanted to know the reason behind Seto Kaiba's first weakness made known to mankind. It was too good to be true. The teenaged prodigy didn't even turn to Joey.
"Why are you still here?"
Kaiba laid his hands down on his desk as if to stress his annoyance, but Joey knew very well what the gesture was for.
To halt the shaking.
No.
To try to conceal it. The index on his right hand kept twitching. Wow. Kaiba, a cripple? The tables were turned. This was going to be fun, regardless of the outcome.
"No, answer me. Why are you shaking like that?" Joey wasn't sure whether he actually wanted to know or whether he wanted to annoy the fuck out of Kaiba. It certainly wasn't out of concern. He might've been a little amused, even.
Kaiba stared intently at the screen in front of him. His jaw tensed.
"Side effects," he hissed.
Joey's curiosity was piqued - it wasn't like Kaiba to open up like that. "Like what-"
"I've answered your question. Go yapping somewhere else," Kaiba snapped.
Joey considered him for a moment. "Okay. Okay. So that's how it is, huh."
Of course it was going to end up like this. Old habits die hard.
Joey wasn't sure what to do, whether to cut the tense silence with another insult or to just give in the urge to hit that poster boy billion dollar face of his.
"Fuck you, Kaiba."
Kaiba turned abruptly to look up at Joey with cold eyes.
Both men stayed still for a moment. Then, when Joey was certain this moment would remain imprinted in his memory, he walked away.
Calmly.
Slowly.
He was leaving his opponent's turf, victorious.
Or was he?
It wasn't as liberating as he thought it would have been. When he thought of the countless hours he'd spent brewing hatred for the man, replaying their botched fists fights in his mind and changing them, sometimes inventing new ones altogether, the long moments thinking of vicious comebacks that always seemed to slip away the moment he was in his presence, and the amount of actual 'fuck you's he'd told Kaiba to no avail...
That weak, uncalled for, increasingly out of place 'fuck you' just didn't measure up. Unfortunately.
Joey stopped right by the door, in the hallway, realizing he had no clue which way to go. He really wished he'd been paying attention to directions when the maid escorted him, rather than wondering why someone would want to live in such a glum place - wasn't Kaiba master and commander of this? Couldn't he tear down those old pictures and paintings if he wanted to? Even Joey's own filthy apartment felt less... harmful than this.
Why on earth did he care or not that Kaiba live in a depressing hell hole?
He heard the squeak of a swivel chair behind him. Kaiba had moved. Joey turned to see. He shouldn't have. But he just couldn't help it.
Joey saw Kaiba standing, tense as if holding back from something, yet perfectly still, his silhouette dark lissome in the weak light. He couldn't make out the look on his face.
"All I'm asking," said Kaiba in a ragged voice, pausing slightly between every word, "is for you to wait."
He sounded... tired. Yes, tired was the word. Exhausted, like. Crumbling under an invisible planet Earth, as if Atlas had simply decided to pack up and leave, and that Kaiba took it upon himself to see that the planet was being tended to.
Joey knit his brows in confusion.
Kaiba still didn't move an inch. He didn't even appear to be breathing.
Joey looked left and right. Shifted on his weight. Put his hands in his pockets.
Kaiba was preaching by example; he was waiting. For him. For Joey Wheeler. It was his move.
He really didn't have a good reason not to act upon what, in Kaiba's mouth, sounded like an earnest apology.
"Okay. Yeah, sure. I'll wait." If you ask so nicely. So, um, non-aggressively.
What am I doing?
He walked back to the where he'd been sitting before the argument, making it a point not to look in Kaiba's direction as he did. But he swore he could feel his gaze on him. He couldn't tell why, but he was sure Kaiba was studying him at this very moment. The mere thought made him feel uneasy.
In effect, it was only once he'd settled on the couch that the typing resumed. The intermittent clicking of the laptop keys meshed with the blood pumping in his ears. His liver was fighting to pump the energy drink out of his system.
He wondered if that's how his father felt whenever he went to sleep. The heart, drumming relentlessly, as if to scream 'hey! you're alive!'
Stop.
Don't think about it. Better not think about it.
Don't think about anything.
Just stay here and do the assignment thing. Get it over with, be proud, know you've done the right thing. Wait for Kaiba to be done with whatever. Wait until he's done toying with your nerves. Just accept that you can't win - not this time.
He remembered how Serenity once told him 'you can't always win all the time'. He could hear her voice, see the way she shook her head in resignation in his mind's eye.
Joey winced.

The room was bright.
Joey craned his neck to see where the greyish light was from. It was everywhere, bouncing off the walls to the ceilings and off the shiny metal furniture.
His neck hurt. He'd been sleeping in the couch. Fully clothed. And his heart was still pumping like crazy. Blond bangs were sticking to the base of his nape. He felt crass dirty.
A blanket had been laid out on him- no, some thin, soft fabric. A sheet made of satin or - heck, he had no idea. He threw the thing off himself. Didn't know what to think of it. Hadn't the faintest idea where it came from, whom it belonged to, whose bodies it had covered before covering his own. But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel warmth rising in his chest thinking that someone spared a thought and an act of kindness for him.
He stood up and stretched, cracking his joints and spine.
Kaiba's office looked different in broad daylight. Clean, spacious and orderly. Functional. Tall windows gave to more greenery Joey had ever seen in his entire urban life. Kaiba wasn't at his desk. Obviously. The office was bigger than it had looked like yesterday evening, L-shaped with a whole section that had remained hidden from sight. There were doors. Many, prohibitively inviting, metal doors. But Joey didn't have time to explore.
He was fucking late for work, his brain was kind enough to remind him. Many hours too late. No, worse, he'd probably missed the night shift altogether. Shit.
Shit.
He walked around to see if there was some kind of clock or anything.
Then he heard it.
The breathing.
He wasn't alone.
Joey walked towards the sound. It was located in the hidden section of the room, the longer end of the L.
In retrospect, he shouldn't have been shocked by what he saw. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Just someone sleeping. In a bed. A human being, lying in bed, his chest heaving up and down.
Kaiba had a bed in his office.
He was sleeping in it.
Kaiba slept in his office.
Joey noticed a granite counter top, a fridge and come appliances he couldn't identify. So he lived in the goddamn thing, too.
Joey felt uncomfortable. And awkward. He couldn't - he just couldn't stop looking.
He was no expert on other people's sleeping positions, but Kaiba's didn't look natural. His neck was stretched out in a weird angle. His arms, sprawled in unnatural angles. The lower half of his body, concealed in a black satin sheet that looked identical to his own. His torso was completely naked.
Jesus. What had Kaiba been thinking? Why hadn't he woken him?
Black and red dots peppered Joey's vision for second. When the dizziness passed, Joey stormed out of the room.
Took a left.
At random.
He replayed in his mind the regular heaving of Kaiba's bony chest. His too readily exposed, sickly white skin.
Joey felt a cool chill wash over him.
He needed out.
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I Don't Know Why The Caged Bird Sings