Disclaimer: They ain't mine. (Screw the rules, I have money!)
A/N: Writtenwhen I should've been writing my Teaching and Learning Assignment. Written because yesterday I survived a car wreck and haven't been able to concentrate on anything more substantial since then. Technically I should be in bed now, but I've been having flashbacks and this helped keep them at bay. Now all I need it the mental equivalent of a cattle prod…
Continuity: Post-Egypt.
Clipped Wings
© Scribbler, March 2007.
Anzu knew about Yuugi's crush, but she could never take it seriously. Even when he was staring at her with those liquid purple eyes; even when he was tripping over his feet to secure a higher place in her affections, she couldn't take him seriously. He was too Yuugi, too scraped-knees-and-homework, too jello-and-crackers for her to take it seriously.
She used to act like a spoilt kid around him, treating him like he'd always be there for her because he had been so far. Even in America with Dartz he'd come back to her, and she'd got to hold him again before anyone else. He spoiled her because he allowed her to know about his crush without doing anything about it.
Spoilt. Yes, that was it. That was it exactly.
It was like when her parents gave her a watch for her seventh birthday. They swathed it in layers of expensive gift-wrap and ribbon so that it looked beautiful but was hard to open. She got so impatient she ripped the pretty flowers, but still couldn't get it all off, and so cried, "There's nothing in here!" and threw the whole thing in the trash.
Her parents should've just left it there. If her father hadn't rolled up his sleeve and reached, grimacing, into the mess of tealeaves, noodles and eggshells, then maybe she would've learned a lesson: that sometimes you throw important things away because you don't realise how important they are, and nobody, not even your father, can get them back for you.
She kept the watch.
She couldn't keep Yuugi.
Every time Jounouchi saw his mother he imagined things would be different; that if he couldn't forgive her for past actions, he could at least make enough small-talk to paper over the cracks in their relationship.
Except that it never worked out like that.
Yet each time he promised himself he would try again, for Shizuka's sake if nothing else, so she wouldn't have to feel like she had to constantly broker a peace treaty between the two most important people in her life. And he did try, over and over.
Nevertheless, without fail, every time he put them back on the train out of Domino he felt the distance between himself and their mother more keenly than ever. It was as though he'd just waved off some childless actress who'd been hired to act as his mother for the day – as though they didn't know each other at all.
His thoughts were occupied with this as he trudged home. So it was he didn't realise what he was seeing until he'd nearly gone past. He was surprised to see Anzu in the playground. The gates were locked, but there was a little hole in the fence you could squeeze through if you didn't mind looking like the contortionist the circus didn't want.
Never one to worry about looking like a fool, he slipped in and stood in front of her.
She looked up, hands gripping the chains of her swing tighter, like she thought he might be a rapist or mugger or something. Funny how she hadn't considered that before sitting out here in the encroaching dusk, but that was the kind of stupidly fearless girl Anzu was.
Funny how he knew that about some girl from school but couldn't name his own mother's favourite colour.
"Oh. Jounouchi," Anzu said without feeling.
"S' my name. Don't wear it out."
"Have you come from the station?"
"Yeah. Shizuka says hi."
She nodded, but distractedly.
Jounouchi raised an eyebrow and plonked himself in the swing beside her. He kicked off and moved to and fro, long legs dragging. Anzu said nothing, and he watched her thinking. Each separate thought crossed her face like a cloud shadow, darkening and lightening. She was awful at concealing her feelings – even worse than him. You could follow her expressions like a trail of breadcrumbs back to what was bothering her.
"You're really bummed, huh?"
She startled. "What?"
"Don't worry about it. We all knew. So did Yuugi, but he didn't care. Just kept on keeping on."
She bit her lip. "But he did care. That was the problem. I couldn't … I couldn't give him what he wanted. And then when it turned out to be what I wanted too, it was too late…"
Jounouchi nodded. He wasn't good at these sorts of talks, but unlike a lot of guys he could hold his own without drowning. He swung back and forth a bit more, waiting for the inevitable.
It came. Anzu sniffed, a bulb of water dripping off the tip of her nose. She didn't even try to scrub at her eyes or hide it. She wasn't that kind of girl. "I'm so stupid."
"Nah. It's this whole love thing. It's crap, but we gotta deal with it anyhow." He spoke with the voice of experience, so absolutely it didn't even jar his rhythm. To and fro, to and fro, Jounouchi and Mai, Anzu and Yuugi, Yuugi and Yami, Barbie and Ken…
"He's happy."
"That's the worst part, huh?"
Anzu paused a second before saying, "Yeah."
"Love stinks more than my insoles."
She gave a coughing laugh. Finally she wiped at her eyes with a sleeve. Jounouchi saw it as a sort of victory and pushed off extra hard so he could send up a really good cloud of dirt as he swept past.
Anzu squealed and cuffed ineffectually at him. "You're getting dust all over me!"
"Not my problem."
"It will be when I catch hold of you."
"Gotta catch me first." He leapt off and jogged to what might pass as a safe distance, only turning around when Anzu didn't follow.
She sat forlornly on her swing, staring at the ground. In the maggoty yellow light of the streetlamp she looked a lot younger; probably the same age as when she first met Yuugi.
All at once Jounouchi wondered what kind of person she'd been before the little dude came into her life. Yuugi had a way of changing you, even if neither of you realised what he was doing. Just look at him and Honda. Heck, just look at Yami, the most dramatic change of all – undead, nameless psychotic spirit who'd kill just because it seemed like a good idea at the time, to resurrected, slightly-less-psychotic master duellist who'd die before letting anything bad happen to those he cared about.
Yami. Ouch.
Jounouchi walked back to Anzu and held out a hand. "C'mon, it's chillier than a bucket of penguin spit out here. You can treat me to some grub at Burger World."
She stared at the proffered hand and then up into his face. Her eyes were huge in her head, like the eyes of starving African children and just as hungry. "Am I a terrible person?" she asked softly.
"You kidding? You got enough compassion in your little finger to cure cancer."
"Jounouchi! That's a terrible thing to say!"
He shrugged. Like he was supposed to care about political correctness? "Are you coming or what?"
"I…" Still she hesitated. She looked at her watch, perhaps for a little too long. Then she heaved a deep sigh and stood up without taking his hand. "Yeah."
He shoved both hands deep into his pockets. "Cool. I'm hungry."
She cuffed him. This time it made contact. "Doofus." Yet it was said without venom.
Jounouchi smirked. "You're welcome."
Fin.