Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! If I did, then Yami and Yugi would be a couple, Anzu would be in a ditch somewhere with her limbs cut off (that was almost a joke), Jou and Seto would also be a couple, and blah, blah, blah. So why don't you lawyers that have nothing better to do go away and leave me alone! (No offense to lawyers!)
Summary: Yugi's POV, and he walks in his house to find it covered in blood, and his darkness dying…it's sad, but this is one of my best summaries…YY/Y. I was thinking of naming it 'Fluff Drenched in Blood,' but that would just be creepy. Rated to be safe.
Warnings: Shonen-ai (but there really isn't that much, its more like they're brothers, I could get away with saying that…), lots of blood, character deaths
A/N: This is a one shot…that might end up as a full blown fic, if enough people want me to write it. Basically, I got this idea while watching the episode of DBZ that was on a while ago, while Goku and Gohan were lying there, all messed up, and Vegeta was coming for them…and…yeah, you get it.
I'm really sorry that I did this to Yami! Waah! I love him way more than I should, but when non-anime guys in my school won't even look at me…well, you get it. He was a little miffed that I wrote this, but he got over it…anyway, I think that it's pretty good, seeing how I wrote it at 12:30 in the morning…
However, flames are accepted, and expected with this one, because the Yami fan-girls, such as myself, will probably be upset that he has a weak side…enough notes, just read my story, I beg of you!
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I walked slowly into the room, forcing myself to keep my eyes open, forcing my legs to keep moving, to keep going forward, though they wouldn't go very fast, which forced my eyes that I kept forcing to keep open take in the horrible scene, a scene that I never even dreamed of taking place, let alone in my own living room.
The walls, the white walls, walls that I used to color on with crayon, weren't so white anymore, they were splattered with sticky crimson blood, so much of it that it couldn't possibly have come from just one person…dots, and lines, and zigzags, and other shapes were rained down on the walls, probably some of it only moments ago, indiscriminately a painted portrait, a portrait that reeked of decay and destruction, instead of innocent crayon…
A hand print was clear, I could see it from across the room. I looked at my own palm, which was now shaking and perspiring slightly, and wondered whose hand made that print…
Knives were stuck in the walls, some of them looked as if they were thrown, and there was even one in the ceiling, blood in an uneven circle around it, making me feel ill…
The floor, the off-white carpet, now stained with crimson, blood that was still wet, I realized in horror, as it squelched like mud as I cautiously stepped through it; but I wasn't blood, because mud wasn't red, and mud didn't reek of decay as the blood did…
Some of the blood, I realized, was brighter than the others, in was newer, just drawn, leaving footprints on the floor, leading, foraging a path into the kitchen…I recognized the knives strewn in the walls and the one in the ceiling from all of the times that I cut a roll, or cut a portion of meat…the battle started there…but what about its end?
I felt faint, and I really wanted to, but what if he was still alive? Would I wake to find him dead, only to find that my darkness left waiting for me? No, I couldn't do that to him, to myself…so I trudged on, each second feeling like a million, each step staining my sneakers with blood…
I finally reached my destination, and took a deep breath before entering the door-less doorway.
And every last molecule of that breath was used for a scream, a scream so loud that the neighbors would have come running, if I had them…I wondered what would have happened if I had neighbors…would they have called the police? What would they have done?
Atemu, my darkness, my koi, was standing, hunched over, a knife drenched in that cursed liquid hanging loosely in his hand. I couldn't see his face, but I got an eyeful anyway…
His blue jeans…the one day he goes casual, were ripped and spattered with blood, and most of it was from him. His socks were red, even though they were originally white, and his white t-shirt was ripped and falling off of him, revealing a toned bronze chest ripped to shreds. His tan arms were limp and bleeding, liquid cascading down them as if he took a shower with the blood, and ending at his fingertips, only to drip down onto the beige linoleum floor underneath them.
The knife dropped from his weak hand, spiraling to the floor in slow motion, clattering noisily to the floor at last, shaking me out of my trance. Then the tears started to fall, "Atemu!" I screamed, and ran to support him.
As I slid my clean arm under his arm and around his back, staining my skin, and pressed the other to his chest, I found that he was heavy; he was quickly becoming dead weight. I moved the hand on his back downward to try to support him better, and I found something stuck there…it was a knife…but I didn't touch it, I couldn't.
I remembered some of the words that were told to me the day Atemu came back, "You will die…as one…"
And today, I felt, was that day…
"Aibou," He whispered, and collapsed, sending us both to the floor. He dragged me down, even though that wasn't true at all, in the long run. He always brought me back up.
I caught myself, though, right before I hit my knees, and Atemu leaned heavily against my shoulder. I moved my hand towards the knife, I felt the need to pull it out, "Atemu, I'm going to pull it out…I have to…" I clenched the knife tightly, and Atemu put his bleeding arms around me, soaking me with it, and buried his head into my shoulder.
"It's in so deep…" He whispered into my ear, and I wanted to cry into his shoulder. But all the times that he made me feel better when I was sad, or crying…I owed this to him…I had to stay strong…
I pulled on the knife, and Atemu screamed slightly, it was more like a loud intake of breath. The seconds rolled by, me trying to slowly pull it out… "Hold on," I kept saying to him, "It's almost out," and finally, the knife was out, and I threw it to the side, not caring where it landed, not caring what it looked like. "There, it's out…" I told him, and he hugged me tighter, using a strength that I didn't know he had in his current state.
Then I started to lower him to the ground, like a parent would put a child in its crib. I laid him on his back, hoping in vain that he would be more comfortable. "Aibou," he whispered again, and I forced myself to look at his face.
I watched in horror as I wondered how something once so stoic, so handsome, so…flawless, could become so racked with pain, so destroyed. His left cheek was deeply gashed, running from the corner of his eye to the corner of his lip, ending in a bleeding bruise. His right cheek was bruised and bloody as well, and there was even a hole there, as if he was stabbed in the face as well as the back. His forehead had a swipe across it, almost like a bird's talon hit him, and it bled into his eyebrows and into his eyes, and down his nose and into his mouth. Every inch of his face that wasn't bruised or bloody was covered with a layer of sweat, from the fighting…the fighting that happened before I walked in, and the fighting that was happening before my eyes, the fight for his life.
His eyes…crimson, how…cruel…were tired looking, and distant…and filled with tears…they were scrunched up, yet still open, and I could tell that his teeth were clenched, as if he were trying to hold back screams that he wanted to unleash.
I was choked up as well, and I struggled to get the words out, "I…Atemu…" I grabbed his hand with my left and put my right under his head. But I couldn't get the words out.
"I got him…" Atemu whispered, wanting to tell me that he succeeded, "He won't bother…us…" He fell silent and closed his eyes, then took a deep breath.
I saw now, in the corner of my eye, a crumpled, bloody heap, the body of the man who destroyed my world. He was unrecognizable now, though still in one piece. He looked like he died only moments ago, as if Atemu stood there watching, or averting his eyes. His arm was over his eyes, so I couldn't see if they were open or closed. One of his legs was bent upward, and the other bent downward, his feet touching. I wouldn't dare to think, or to speak his name…and I didn't care one bit about his fate. I only cared about Atemu…
"This is all my fault," I said, ashamed of how weak I was, not exactly sure of how this was my fault, but the words kept coming, reminding me, "I shouldn't have brought you back, I should've known…"
Atemu started to cough, and when he did, blood came up with the air, further reddening his face, "No," he whispered, "Don't you think…for a…second…" He groaned and fidgeted, then his breathing became uneven.
By this time both of my hands were holding one of his, and I realized that I was squeezing it so hard that I might've broken it, so I eased up.
"Don't go!" He shouted loudly, then regretted it, fidgeting some more, and this time he let out a small whimper, "No, you'd never leave…" He corrected himself, then looked at me through slits in his eyelids. "It just…hurts so much…"
He said that it hurt…has he ever said that? Ever? So I knew now, not just felt, but knew, that this was the end. The end for both of us.
"Aibou?" He asked, closing his eyes again and shuttering a little, "Will you…lie your head on my stomach? I just…" He gulped loudly, and I realized that his tears were washing away the blood that blocked their course, "Just want to…" He stopped, apparently frustrated. He didn't know why.
But I did it anyway. Still grasping his hand with one of mine, I turned around, sat down, and slowly lowered my head and upper body. I didn't want to hurt him any further, so I was hesitant, but he squeezed my hand ever-so slightly. I wasn't sure if it was from pain or from encouragement, but it helped me lay down.
When my head reached its target, he gasped, and I made to get up, "No!" He said, breathing as if he ran a couple of miles, "Please stay…"
And so I did, feeling his chest rise and fall unevenly, sometimes gasping…or sobbing. And I felt his heartbeat, slowing down and speeding up, trying to pump blood through him, trying to stay alive.
After about 5 seconds, 5 seconds that didn't last as long as before, he twitched and groaned again, his hand tightened, his fingernails gouging into my knuckles. And I started to cry again.
It wasn't loud, hysterical crying, but it wasn't silent either. But I was still ashamed of myself. I had no right to cry…I wasn't the one bleeding to death, I wasn't the one who's body was mutilated, I wasn't dying in pain.
Yet, Atemu was. He was bleeding to death, he was torn apart, mutilated and crumpled, and he was dying in pain. He deserved to cry, not me…
"Don't…be so hard…on yourself…" My darkness whispered, sensing my thoughts, even though our mind link evaporated long ago. "You can cry…because all you wanted was for us to be together, and Ra won't even give us that. That's…why I'm crying…"
I tightened my grip on him, and he stiffened, then coughed, and I felt warm blood on my shoulder. I wanted to say something, something comforting, something optimistic, but there was nothing, nothing to say…
"I…love you, Aibou…and we'll meet again, I know it…" Atemu said weakly.
Then I felt a strange pain in my heart, a pain that wasn't induced by my heartache. I felt like my breath, along with my soul, was being sucked out of me, and I knew that Atemu was gone, because his chest wasn't moving anymore, I couldn't hear his hearbeat in his chest anymore, and he wasn't breathing…
"I love you, too, my darkness," I whispered, slipping away, and I tried to remember how this all happened, but that was slipping away, too.
Everything was slipping away.
-Owari-
Umm…Japanese words, because sometimes I read stories with Japanese words I don't know, and it upsets me.
Aibou: partner Koi: love And that's about it!
Now, please review! I love reviews! Though, apparently there's this thing going around that you can't respond to your reviewers, but I still metaphorically love my reviewers!