Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“All right, Yugi! Show em’ who’s boss!” Joey yelled, his lungs feeling the strain from how loud he had been shouting. For Yugi, he always did.

It wasn’t often that Yugi dueled publicly anymore. A rare treat. Although his title as King of Games was practically untouchable, certain things had happened that had nearly extinguished his urge to appear as the legend he was. Joey had witnessed it firsthand and understood why Yugi had been the way he was for so long—

It was grief. 

Joey had seen the Pharaoh—Atem, or as many other names called him, come and go. It was a bittersweet goodbye, in truth. Nobody really wanted to see him leave, but they all understood that things couldn’t stay the same forever. Despite his practiced composure, it had undoubtedly hit Yugi the hardest in more ways than one.

All of his friends had been more than caring and accepting of Yugi’s choice to step away from the public view for the time he had been. Of course, dueling was still everything to him. That fact hadn’t changed. It had been his life— and would always continue to be. 

But now, that burning love and passion had a puzzle-shaped piece missing.

Thankfully, Yugi had been up against this opponent before. An older one, nonetheless, but a seasoned duelist who had offered to duel the King himself upon his return. An easier opponent, he had hoped. 

Yugi was hesitant at first, but the time had finally come when he needed to spread his wings once more. Despite the empty feeling that lingered in his hollow chest, he was still himself.

The crowd roared in immeasurable excitement, watching the opposing duelist’s life points drop by 430. Yugi had played one of his signature trap cards, and the trick had worked. For as professional a duel as it was, Yugi couldn’t help but feel like it was simply just a fun game, as it had been years back.

Summoning a stronger monster, Yugi’s opponent had regained his footing rather quickly. Dealing a large amount of damage to his life points, right back on the flipside, Yugi’s Dark Magician was wiped from the field before his eyes.

The opposing duelist let out a laugh, a taunting exclamation at how he was ‘rusty’ and needed to be shelved. Of course, Yugi simply smiled at the boy and tried his best to hide the apparent annoyance he felt. It was a dig, sure, but nothing Yugi couldn’t handle. He was better than that.

Of course, Joey had been watching intently from the box, biting his nails down to the beds without realizing he had broken skin, the metallic taste of blood on his lips. Teá and Tristan had been there as they always were, eagerly watching their companion’s triumphant return, or so they hoped.

 Solomon had tagged along as well, happy to see Yugi on his feet again.

“C’mon, Yug. You got this..” Joey muttered against his fist, rocking the chair he was sitting on with his knee. His eyes intently flicked between his friend and his opponent, who seemed to be in a locked stalemate cycle of beating one another into the dust.

Solomon sat with a fist perched under his chin, knee propped up against the railing of the box’s overlook. He quietly nodded, his eyes lingering over to Joey’s worried expression.

“Yugi always pulls through. Have some faith in him, Joey.” Teà reassured, her voice filled with the same kindness and empathy as always. Tristan nodded, his gaze transfixed on the battle happening below.

“I know, I know. It’s just been a while—” he paused. “Since.. Y’know.” Joey didn’t have to explain himself. It was a somber feeling they were familiar with all too well, but nobody wanted to be the first to speak it aloud.  

“Since he left.” Tristan scratched the back of his head, speaking the cursed topic into existence. Solomon stayed silent, watching his grandson without a comment on the careful conversation being held in earshot. Everyone stopped speaking.

Yugi took another heavy hit.

The crowd cheered for Yugi’s opponent. A clear mix of them were obviously rooting for the King himself, enthralled to witness his glorious return firsthand as one did. But the outcome seemed off. Yugi himself seemed.. Off. Unfocused. For lack of a better word.

The crowd roared, seeing Yugi finally able to summon one of his ace cards.. Blackluster Soldier appeared on the field, standing more ferocious than it had been in memory. Surely, it would spell his victory in the pinch he had fallen into.

Yugi had always been the first one to root for Joey, so it was only fair that he did the same for the guy he called his best friend. Whether their friendship at first had been the product of Yugi being a bit too nice to him, which he felt was completely undeserved, it was something genuine and beautiful now. Pure. It hurt to see him this.. down. The Yugi that Joey had always known was optimistic. Forgiving. 

“Joey—” Teà tapped him on the shoulder, instantly snapping him from the daze.

“You’re bleeding.”

It was at this point that Joey had noticed the thin stream of blood dripping down his fist, fingers still clenched in his teeth. He was thankful Teà had pointed it out. He had been so transfixed on Yugi’s play that he hadn’t even paid attention to his own habit.

“Ah- shoot. Hang on, guys. I’ll be back.” He sighed. Part of that strange, awkward worry hit him. He wanted to stay and watch, but he was confident in Yugi’s win. Even without his gaze for a moment, Joey was sure Yugi could do with the love sent from his other close friends for the quick minute he grabbed a bandage.

“Be quick, dude. You don't wanna miss whatever Yugi’s got planned.” Tristan waved, his hand motioning for Joey to hustle. 

Joey huffed, turning on his heel.

Shuffling out of the booth, Solomon gave him a concerned glance but said nothing. Quickly pacing down the long, cold hall of the arena’s upper deck, Joey sighed to himself. 

Perhaps if he couldn’t find a first aid kit somewhere, he’d just resort to using a wet paper towel or running his fingers under some water in the bathroom. Another option could have easily just been wiping the blood on his jacket. But, he didn’t want to look as if he had gotten hurt— especially in photos if paparazzi appeared like they always did. 

Of course, the media was swarming the arena like flies over fruit in the summer. This was a big deal, after all. Yugi Mutou’s return after months of silence from the legend warranted a grand occasion. Whether he liked it or not— Yugi was sure to be hounded by the media for a billion annoyingly personal questions.

And Joey knew him well enough to understand the fact that Yugi would never turn someone away. He was simply too nice to say no.

Much to Joey’s dismay, the arena didn’t seem to have any accessible first-aid kits in view for whatever reason. Taking an entire lap around the upper deck, Joey was left feeling rather annoyed and out of breath from his haste.

He was currently missing his best friend’s duel for a self-inflicted wound, the equivalent of a papercut.

Cursing to himself, Joey began walking back. Deciding to count his losses, Joey turned and ducked into one of the bathrooms on the floorplan. Emerging a moment later with his makeshift paper towel bandage, a passing white coat flashed in his peripheral vision.

A small laugh escaped his throat, raspy.

It seemed Seto Kaiba had crawled out of his skyscraper castle to witness Yugi’s battle for himself. Although he hated to admit it, Joey was rather surprised. 

“Well, I'll be damned. If it isn't Mr. Rich boy after all. What made ya’ come watch?” 

Kaiba stopped dead in his tracks. Silence. Joey paced up to where the taller man had been standing, just a few feet away. He stopped short.

“My actions are none of your business, Wheeler.” 

Joey straightened his posture, feeling the tension the man had suddenly created. Kicking at an imaginary rock under his shoe, Joey shoved his hands in his pockets. 

The oppressive silence lingered for a moment. 

“Yeesh. Was just asking.” Joey raised his hands in feigned defense. “No need to be so nasty.” 

Kaiba turned around, his brow furrowing in annoyance at the blonde.

“Then stop asking,” he grumbled.

It was one thing to be an asshole, and another to be an asshole on purpose. Seto Kaiba checked both boxes with flying colors, because of course he did. Only a rich, snobby, near quadrillionaire businessman like himself could hold an entire conversation comprised of nothing but insults with utmost proficiency. 

“The hell did I do to you? God forbid a man be friendly to someone. Just thought you might’a come out here to watch Yugi’s match.” Joey huffed, feeling the weight of Kaiba’s detestably judgmental gaze.

Kaiba furrowed his brows, his icy gaze the same piercing unnatural blue as always.

“I own this stadium, Wheeler. I realize you’re probably too dim to grasp that, so forgive me for assuming you had some form of intelligence. Or don’t. I don’t really care.”

Joey could feel his skin bristle under his shirt, the growing flames of accumulated anger. Sucking in a deep breath, Joey smoothed his jacket down, exhaling. He was better off not arguing with Kaiba right now. As badly as he wanted to snap back at the CEO, Joey had better things to be doing. 

Like watching his best friend’s comeback duel.

“Right. Forgot.” Joey mouthed, “You own all of Domino, at this point.” 

Kaiba simply grunted in response. Joey knew what it meant, not having to be told twice; 

“Fuck off.” 

Kaiba’s heels echoed through the stone passageway as he moved.

“Y’know,” Joey started, the words leaping from his throat before he could even think. Kaiba stopped.

“Yugi would be happy—” He paused, unsure what words his mouth would betray him with next.

“Yugi would be happy that you came to see him duel again. I won’t pretend that you two weren’t rivals, but. For his sake, it’d be nice to see a familiar face. He's been through .. a lot.”

“I’m not here for pleasantries.” 

Joey shut his mouth, the footsteps of the other man hesitating before fading into the crowd’s distant cheering. His shoulders sank, glancing over his shoulder to the spot where Seto Kaiba had been moments ago. The ghost of his ridiculous cologne hung in the air.

His finger had started bleeding again.

By the time Joey returned to his spot in the box, Yugi had lost. The battle was over, and the winner was declared.

The shared disappointment and concern between the group was without words, but still understood enough to be present. There had been various matches throughout the night, leading up to the grand battle between Yugi himself.

Yugi was no easy opponent, evidently, and anyone who had ever played their hand at Duel Monsters knew that. 

He was the King Of Games, a living legend in the flesh.

Sure, everyone lost occasionally. Losing was a part of growth, and growth that allowed one to improve one's own skills. But this time was different. This time, there was a deep sadness entangled and buried in Yugi’s unfortunate loss. Because outside of dueling, that same loss had rooted itself in the space of a vacant heart.

“I hope Yugi is alright..” Teà muttered, her eyes following the path of Yugi’s previous opponent as he prepared to duel the next runner-up.

“I’m sure he’s fine. It’s not like he hasn’t lost before.” Tristan chewed, his hands clenched in his lap.

“I know. This is just a big deal for him. Do you think we should go check on him?” Teà gave him a sincere glance.

Tristan stretched out his arms, yawning. He shook his head.

“Gramps just went down to the lounge to find him. Yugi is probably talking to the media, anyway. It's probably not a good idea to butt in unannounced.” Tristan dismissed entirely.

“I guess..”

Joey blankly stared at the field, his head propped up against his fist. Truthfully, many things were going on behind his vacant eyes. 

His friends’ conversation all but went in one ear and out the next, too busy, lost in his own thoughts of how badly he wished he could beat the shit out of Seto Kaiba. To make him apologize, which he was incapable of doing.

Joey could’ve told himself that he was more mature than to let someone’s words get under his skin, but he found solace in the anger he felt justified in. 

Sure, he and Kaiba had an extensive past of being at one another’s throats, but by god did Joey want him to feel the boiling rage from all the times that Kaiba had bitten the hand that offered nothing but undeserved second chances.  

The cheer of the crowd snapped him from the odd trance. He blinked. 

“Guys. I really do think we should go find Yugi.” Joey stood up almost too fast, his vision flashing. Tea and Tristan exchanged odd looks.

“Why?” Tristan tilted his head, as if he hadn’t just had this exact conversation a moment prior.

Joey felt stupid even having to answer, but there was a mutual understanding that Tristan seemed to ignore. His mouth felt dry, the words suddenly shying away.

“Now I really look like an ass for not saying I’m worried about our pal.” Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, his words showing on his face.

“Not that I’m not worried or anything. It’s just—” Tristan searched for his next thought. “I would just.. have a little more faith in him. Yugi doesn’t lose hope easily.” 

Tea sighed. Joey said nothing.

“I sent him a text after his round, but I don’t think he saw it.” Tea frowned, flipping open her cellphone to double-check. The message on her tiny screen simply read ‘delivered’.

 “Yeah. He definitely didn’t.” The brunette shoved her phone back in her pocket.

“Lighten up. Yugi’s strong. I think he can handle losing.” Perhaps Tristan had a point, but that didn’t change much. 

“I know. But it aint’ that simple. You’ve seen the state he’s been in the past couple of months. Dueling in itself is like forcing his grief back in his face.” 

Tristan studied Joey's expression, understanding his concern to the best of his ability. It was true about what Yugi had been through, but he also required room to mourn.

“I dunno, Joe. He might want his alone time like he usually does, y'said it yourself. He's been in a depressive funk for a while..” 

“I’d think that’s all the more reason to keep him company.”

Depression. The word stung like a slap on the wrist. It was an odd term used in the medical world. Not many people actually were diagnosed, but the point still stood.

Teá chimed in, a worried expression on her face.

“I hate to say, but I think Tristan's right.” Her hands absentmindedly fidgeted with her hair, tucking a piece behind her ears. 

“Do what you want,” Joey mouthed, grabbing his discarded coat from the chair. He contemplated calling Tristan stupid, but Joey held his tongue. He proved a valid point, but Joey was too stubborn to listen. 

“The guy hasn't dueled professionally in forever on his own.” Tristan realized what Joey had been getting at.

“Joey.” He reached out a hand, resting it on the blonde’s shoulder. 

“It’s been seven months. Yugi needs time to heal without us constantly cleaning his wound. It won’t heal if we don’t let it air out.”

The anger that had been silently brewing in the basin of his heart suddenly tasted bitter.

“Cut the tough-love bullshit. You know damn well that Yugi would bleed himself out for your sake if you were in his shoes.” Joey clenched a fist. The voice in his head told him to calm the hell down, and that he was overreacting horribly— but he ignored it. He swatted Tristan’s hand away.

“Dude. Whoa, calm down.” Tristan raised his hands in defense. “I care about Yugi just as much as you do, but you need to take a step back.” 

"No. You're being inconsiderate." Now he’d said it.

"I'm not being inconsiderate. I'm being realistic."

“Whatever.” 

“You know I'm right, Joey.” 

“That's the thing. Are you?” He scowled, causing Tristan to take a step back. The conversation had escalated in the span of a few seconds, and the rage that bubbled in Joey's chest wasn't helping his cause.

“The hell’s your problem? You act like you're his damn rebound or something! Joey, let him sort shit out on his own. We can offer a shoulder, but we can't hold his hand the whole time.” 

Joey’s heart leapt at the comment, but so did the ache. The mere idea of himself being romantically involved with Yugi, an already grieving man, and his best friend all in one made him nauseous.

But the audacity to suggest he was Yugi’s rebound? After watching the only person Yugi would ever love slip through his fingers? Absolutely not. Sure, at one point, Joey had felt something of the sort— once upon a time long past when all they had to worry about was bullies.

But those feelings had long been sent to die.

“Quit.. talkin’ like that.” Joey coughed into his fist, trying to dispel the uncomfortable feeling in his chest— a horrible cocktail of anger, embarrassment, and sadness. 

The conversation had taken a complete 180, and now all of a sudden was pointed directly at accusing Joey of all people of being somehow romantically affiliated with their grieving friend.

His awkward laugh was nowhere near convincing. Tristan made a face.

“I dunno’ where you even got that idea from. Yugi’s our pal. Sure, I'd do anything for him, but that’s just complete nonsense.” Joey shifted his stance, clearly uncomfortable.

A moment of strange silence settled between them as if Joey had said something so unbelievable.

Tristan took a hand to his face, stifling a laugh that made Joey flinch. “The rebound thing? Oh, C’mon, Joe, you can't be serious. I was kidding.” Joey rolled his eyes.

“You don't actually think I'd suggest you and Yugi as bedroom buddies, right? Yugi’s only into ancient spirits trapped in puzzles.” Joey felt his face flush bright red, the sudden heat making his throat dry.

He couldn’t answer. The air was thick with a discomfort that even Teà’s face showed. 

“C-Cut it out, dude. That's fuckin’ weird to joke about. And what is it with you being so interested in my sex life? Ya’ friggin perv.” Joey huffed 

“Am not. Why are you so worked up over this, anyway? It's a joke. You're not even gay.” Joey hushed him, not in the mood for the next words that came out of Tristan's mouth.

He swore his heart would force itself through his throat, feeling the urge to vomit. But Tristan was right. He wasn’t gay.

Rather, he had an on-and-off relationship with some girl across town. He hadn’t bothered to memorize her name properly, which Joey was promptly scolded over whenever they’d hook up. Her face was a blur. A dozen women could say that they had their fun with Joey Wheeler, and he would brush it off his shoulders as an embarrassingly bad coping mechanism for the absence of romantic fulfillment. At least, that's what he told himself it was.

Being a good friend to Yugi didn’t make him gay; it made him a good friend. Besides, everyone had uninvited thoughts about their best friend at one point, whether they wanted to or not. 

Joey didn’t want to think about it more than he already had.

“Drop it. Please.” Tristan obeyed, staring into space silently before turning his head back towards the action happening on the field below. His hands fidgeted with his jacket zipper.

Some random duelists, probably in the smaller leagues, were hashing out attacks, summoning monsters only to be crushed by their lack of planning. It was almost amusing lest the conversation at hand be ended.

Almost background noise.

“Joey.” The brief peace was broken. His stomach flipped.

“I don't actually think you and Yugi got anything going on. I was just pulling your leg. Again, I was just joking.”  Tristan took a breath, seeming to contemplate his next words. 

“But, you just were super defensive, that's all. And— I’m not accusing you of lying or anything, but our freshman year..” Tristan pursed his lips, questioning how dangerous the topic was. 

Joey scowled, opening his mouth to say something, but stopped.

“You.. told me something once about Yugi. How you were confused why he was so nice to you, n’ stuff. You thought he had a crush on you. That doesn't have anything to do with this, does it?”

“I.. never said anything like that. You’re remembering wrong.” Joey’s hands found their way to the bottom of his shirt, absentmindedly fidgeting with it.

Teá raised an eyebrow, glancing back and forth between the two. “I don't remember Joey saying anything like that either. I think I would know—and he tells me everything.”

“Do not..” Joey muttered. 

“Come on, Teà.. don't make me look crazy here.” Tristan pouted.

“Pretty sure you are.” She teased.

The worst part of it all was that Tristan’s memory was correct. Joey had just hoped he’d forgotten about their awkward conversation so much time ago. He wanted to shut him up before something actually was said.

“You are. Quit tryin’ to make me look like something I'm not. Cause’ it's not true.”

“You’re no fun, Joey.” Tristan rolled his eyes.

“You’re just making stuff up now. I don’t wanna’ talk about this anymore.”

Yugi’s heart belonged to his other half, and Joey knew that. His own foolish heart had formed a curiosity long ago that didn't belong to him in the first place, and it was only right that he buried it. Much to his dismay, Tristan had been clearing away the earth that had entombed his real feelings without any knowledge of what the casket contained. Not even Joey knew.

It wasn't his position to dig them up, nor was it Tristan's. Quite evidently, he hadn't gotten the memo. The buttons he had been pushing in the name of some stupid joke worked a bit too well, Joey teetering dangerously on the edge of exploding. 

Tristan grinned, decidedly taking one last dig at Joey’s composure.

“Ya'know. If you really did want to pursue that feeling you claim you ‘don't have’, he’s back on the market now. Yugi might even branch out to people from the 20th century.” Tristan playfully jabbed his finger at Joey‘s shoulder, unaware that he had just pulled the last straw.

“Tristan, cut it out. That's inappropriate..” Teà put her hands on her hips, scolding her friend. Perhaps a trick of the light, but her cheeks were rosy.

Whatever had been said was completely irrelevant now. All Joey saw was red.

Tristan was met abruptly with a brute punch to the jaw, sending him stumbling back. Joey leapt after him, yanking him forward by the shirt collar with a balled fist. 

He quickly brought down another punch to his face with his other hand, grip quivering. Teà’s eyes widened, quickly throwing herself around Joey’s waist, trying to yank him off with no avail. 

Tristan squirmed in his grip, his own hands trying to pry Joey’s fist from the fabric, causing him to gag. Tristan swatted at his face, unable to reach. 

He hit again.

Then again, 

Again.

The blood splattered. 

Tristan had been backed up against a wall.

“Let go of me!” Tristan cursed, his breathing ragged as he tried to sweep at his attacker’s legs.

Joey’s heart raced, his chest writhing in anger at the sheer audacity Tristan had. The asshole blatantly went on and kicked the horse long after it had been buried, expecting it to stand up. 

Only this time, it kicked back. 

“Let him go! Stop it, Joey!” Teà’s desperate cries hit all at once, immediately severing Joey from his blind rage. As if on cue, he stopped. Tristan’s body dropped like a dead weight to the floor, echoing with a horrifying thud. 

Teà shoved Joey out of the way, sinking to her knees on the floor in front of her friend. She sloppily pulled a wad of tissues from her pocket, holding them up to Tristan's now busted lip and bleeding face. But that didn't stop him from having something to say other than glaring daggers at the blonde. 

“You.. have a serious problem.” He spat out a mouthful of blood, coughing.

Teá shifted as Tristan moved to get up, but she forced him back down to a sitting position. Evidence of his rage ran red down Tristan's face, splattering on the concrete floor.

Joey's fists dripped with blood, quivering like a stray dog in the winter. It had been quick, but the damage was done. He took a breath in, hanging his head low. Joey could feel his voice wavering before he even spoke.

“Don’t.. you dare speak about Yugi that way. He’s our friend, not the butt of a joke. I don't care how much you laugh at me for whatever you think I said—but I won't let you do that to him.”

“Fuck you..” Tristan spat, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Joey didn't have a response, or a shred of remorse. Sure, there could've been another way, but he was desperate to rid Yugi’s unwilling heart from Tristan’s mouth. Joey could've said many things, but there was no point.

It was his turn to leave.

“Joey—hey, wait!” Teà was abruptly silenced by the door to the box slamming, the sound echoing through the whole floor.

Some friend he was.

The empty concrete hallways of the arena felt more sterile and cold than they should have. For a space supposedly promoting the unity of fans to witness duels, Joey couldn’t have felt more isolated —especially with Tristan’s blood on his fists. 

Making his way down unending flights of stairs and pushing his way through lingering crowds of eager fans, chatting loudly about various wins and losses from the night’s events. Yugi’s name rested in vain.  

“Did you see his play? Is he even King anymore?” 

“So much for a grand return.”

“Can’t believe ‘the’ Yugi Mutou lost..” 

“Did you see the way he played? He looked so tired..”

“I wonder if he's sick..”

Joey covered his ears. These people had no idea. They didn't know Yugi as he did, nor any of his friends. They only knew his image, and not the strong, determined duelist that lay beneath it all. Joey knew Yugi better than anyone, and he knew that Yugi gave his all in anything he did— even if it meant costing his own life.

Tristan’s grating words bounced around in his hazy brain.

He cared too much.

A few enthusiastic fans recognized Joey, whispers spreading throughout the floor as he swiftly made his way to the duelist lounge located on the first floor. Some were surprised, others enthused. Joey could've sworn someone asked for his autograph. Of course, he paid it no mind—something he’d probably regret later. 

Reading the signs on the wall, Joey finally arrived in front of the roped-off doorway. Two large bodyguards stood outside, obviously employed by none other than Kaibacorp. Joey didn't even have to notice the logo on their suits to know. 

Remembering his altercation a few moments ago, Joey wiped the blood from his fists on the unseen inside of his jacket. The last thing he needed was for the Kaibacorp staff to think he was even more of a criminal than he already was.

He cleared his voice. 

“Excuse me. I need to pass through. I’m Joey Wheeler. Duelist, obviously. I'm here to see Yugi Mutou.” The two men exchanged glances. 

“Legal ID is required for entry if you aren’t a participating duelist or a relative.” One of the men extended his hand. Joey felt like he was trying to get into a nightclub. Rolling his eyes, Joey yanked out his wallet and flashed the ID in his palm.

“There you go. The one and only Joey Wheeler.” Joey cracked his own joke, trying to alleviate the stress, but neither of the men even made a face. He sighed. One of the men lifted the rope, ushering him inside like some prestigious VIP customer. 

“Straight back.” Joey nodded in thanks, albeit annoyed he had to prove his own identity. Joey didn't dare lie about his relationship to Yugi, although it was almost tempting. 

The hallway was nothing special. A smaller communal room where he had entered was nice, but many of the duelists seemingly preferred their own spaces. Some of the doors even bore permanent nametags with names that Joey vaguely recognized. 

However, a certain, familiar old man stood out in the quaint room.

“Gramps?” Joey tilted his head, quirking an eyebrow.

The old man practically jumped, seeming to have shut his eyes for a quick nap. His squashed body sank into the shiny leather couch Kaibacorp’s properties kept in pristine shape.

“Gramps, hey. Is Yugi down here?” The old man nodded, rubbing his eyes. Joey let out a sigh of relief, unsure why he had been nervous.

Solomon patted a spot on the leather couch directly next to him, his expression kind. Joey’s eyes flicked towards the hallway of doors, forcing a sigh that he hoped wasn’t audible.

“I can tell you’re worried about Yugi.” Joey didn’t have much of a response, simply a nod as he reluctantly sat down.

Joey didn’t exactly want to sit down and talk right now. But it was likely that Solomon had already spoken to Yugi. The thought slightly soothed his nerves.

He took another glance across the room. A door in the hallway bore Yugi’s name on a gold plate, lavish as Kaibacorp's properties were—a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging from the door handle.

“I am. We— all are. He’s been going through a lot..” Joey glazed over the pause in his words, a thought making its way to his lips, but falling short of being spoken.

“You’re a good kid, Joey. Yugi’s really lucky to have you youngins’ to support him.” Solomon scrubbed Joey on the head with his palm as if petting a dog, messing up his sandy mop.

This was Yugi’s Grandpa— the man Joey considered his own grandfather, at best. He had practically been there to raise Yugi his whole life, and was dragged through countless escapades that Yugi, Tea, Tristan, and their various other friends tossed him into, some better, some worse. Joey had been there since the start, so it made sense to him why Solomon would say a thing like that.

“I’m— glad.” Joey felt a strange warmth spread on his chest. Pride. But another feeling shrouded that warmth, and it hurt.

“I would hope so!” Solomon laughed, patting Joey on the back. Joey’s expression didn't change. A silence settled between them.

“Gramps..” Joey’s fists crumpled a handful of his green jacket. Solomon's eyes were gentle, the same familiar violet hue that Yugi had inherited. It was almost uncanny how similar the two were. 

“Have you spoken to him yet? To Yugi— I mean..”  

Joey felt his eyes sting, and his composure breaking. By some miracle was he able to hold himself from crying, which the blonde tried his best to contain any other time he found himself wanting to. 

Sure, crying was normal to anyone with even a fraction of a heart— but the guilt that Joey felt was convoluted. Someone had to be the anchor, and he was more than willing to be if Yugi needed to be yanked back to earth. It didn’t matter what he felt. The only person who deserved those tears and embarrassing emotions was his grieving friend. 

There was a time and place for Joey’s feelings, and it certainly wasn’t now. Right now was about Yugi. 

Solomon sighed, his thumbs brushing over one another. His face turned, plastered with a hint of sorrow or shame, perhaps both. The old man shook his head, to which Joey could feel his heart sink. There was much that had been unsaid between both parties, but the gentle words and opinions had been tread lightly for the sake of respect.

“He didn't want me to. I offered, but there's only so much an old geezer like myself can offer to someone like my grandson.” 

“I see..” Joey’s hand on his jacket loosened, grip relaxing.

“He’ll open up to you. Yugi trusts ya’ more than his own blood relatives.” A short chuckle escaped the old man. He continued.

“Yugi needs that support more than ever, if you could do that for him.” Joey shot upwards immediately, so much so that he accidentally startled the old man. Turning on his heel, the door with Yugi's name was clear in sight. 

He considered saying thank you to Solomon, but there was no need to spend breath speaking on something already conveyed.

Joey just hoped that what he had been told was accurate.. What if Yugi shut him out, too? Kept himself in the dark when his friend offered nothing but light? 

Joey shook his thoughts into line.

Stopping his pursuit in front of the door displaying Yugi’s name, Joey relaxed his shoulders. The door had been closed, with a ‘do not disturb’ sign hanging on the handle.

Joey hesitated, gently knocking before he spoke. His heart thundered in his throat, feeling like he was going to vomit. It was just Yugi, his best friend of all people in the world. He had no reason to be this nervous, even with the confusing topics that had been brought up. He took a deep breath.

“Yug. It's Joey. Jus’ wanted to check in on you. N’ stuff.” 

No response. 

Joey listened, straining his ear against the solid wooden door. A quiet sniffle. Reaching out a hand, Joey found the handle unmoving. Locked.

“I know.. ya’ don't wanna’ talk to anyone, but I’m right here if you need me.” Joey's voice was quiet, growing suddenly conscious that others might be in the rooms adjacent. Not like that mattered anyway. Sure, he might've been talking to an empty room, but there was a chance he was also getting through to Yugi.

“You don't gotta say anything, if— you don't want. But, I ain't leaving you.” 

The air was silent for a few minutes. Joey leaned his forehead against the door, his weight against the frame

If nothing else, Joey prayed that Yugi could feel his presence through the wall. Perhaps it was all he could do, and it was more than enough.

Or so he hoped. The silence was stirred by the lock clicking open. 

It was now or never.

Gently, he took the handle. If Yugi had finally decided to let him see the more vulnerable side of him, Joey sure as hell wasn't going to take it for granted.

Slowly pushing open the door, the sight that greeted his eyes was nauseating. Yugi sat at an empty desk with his back to the door, his head cradled in both hands. His duel disk was powered off, shoved in a corner furthest away from him, like it was suddenly his mortal enemy.

Yugi's body rattled with sobs that made his shoulders flinch. It was almost pitiful.

Joey’s heart cramped in his chest.

The private space that Yugi had been placed in was decorated according to Seto Kaiba’s own wishes, making a comfortable environment for Yugi despite their past feuds. All duelists who had any iconography, be it their deck or their personality, had a preparation and rest room tailored to them specifically. 

Of course, Kaiba had been so kind as to theme his sworn rival’s private room around Egypt.

Around the millennium puzzle. 

Around Atem.

Yugi had torn items off the wall in a desperate rage, shoved tables of their contents, and sat far away from all of it. The once perfectly decorated area now sat in shambles. 

Joey's eyes drifted across the mess to the discarded jacket that Yugi had been so keen to wear. 

A few days before, he and Teà had helped Yugi go shopping for the first time in months, settling on a color that was striking enough for the returning duelist to stand out in—to make a bold statement. 

Only now, it served as a crude buffer from the haunting memories that Yugi gripped so tightly, his hands bled from the jagged edges, crimson running through the lines of the now vacant puzzle. 

“Oh.. Yug..” Joey was hardly able to stumble over his own words. The duelist sniffled, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his fist. 

“Hey, hey.. don't cry. It’s okay. We all lose— y’know..” Joey awkwardly navigated the littered floor, reaching out a hand to Yugi's shoulder. 

He nearly jumped at the contact. Joey's hand immediately retracted, raised in alarm. 

“Yugi—” Joey was cut off at the breath.

“Stop. Please.” 

“Stop.. what?” 

“Joey,” Yugi turned to face the blonde. Yugi’s face was streaked with tears, cheeks spotted red and blotchy from crying. He hung his head low, a trembling hand reaching to grasp his friend’s, falling just short to linger.

“Talking about dueling. I want you to stop. I can't do it anymore.” Yugi sputtered his words, his whispers fading in and out of coherence.

Joey took a deep breath and knelt down, pushing the pile of items out of the way. The blade that had been pushing its way into Joey’s heart suddenly cut a little deeper.

“Take a deep breath, Yug. One thing at a time, kay’? I need you to think about what you're sayin.” Yugi did as told, his chest slowly rising and falling.

“Talk to me. What’s goin’ on?” The blonde’s hands hovered over his friend’s knee, not wanting ot get too close for the sake of discomfort. Yugi choked on his breath for a moment, eventually taking the initiative to speak.

“You don't get it. I can't duel anymore—” Joey pushed a smile, reaching a hand upwards to push Yugi’s wet bangs out of his eyes. Only, they were dull in uncanny contrast to his normal bright violet. 

“Sure ya’ can. We all have bad seasons, Yug. Don't toss your towel in so fast.” Joey gestured a reassuring finger at his weeping friend.

Yugi simply wiped his eyes, his deadpan expression unchanging.

“Don't forget who you are. You're the King of Games. You're Yugi Mutou, my best bud.” In turn, the duelist simply shook his head.

“No. That title isn't mine anymore. I’m done.” Joey's heart dropped.

“But you did so well last season. We all recover from big losses.. y—ya’know?” 

“I’m done dueling, Joey.” 

“Wh— what’re you fibbin’ about? That's crazy talk, Yug. Come on, now.” Joey tried hiding his apparent shock with a nervous laugh, which wasn't doing much for his nerves.

“I’m quitting.” Silence.

“No fuckin’ way,” Joey accidentally uttered aloud, his hand flying to his mouth as if he could shove his words back inside. He stood up immediately, hands gripping the edge of the chair that the duelist melted into.

“Yugi. I promise you don't want this. It's just your nerves— we all get those doubtful feelings—” Yugi clambered to his feet, his balance wobbly. The sudden anger rising in his face was more than apparent. 

“It’s my decision, and only mine. I said what I said.” Joey didn’t buy it.

Yugi’s words fell heavy in Joey’s mind, almost hostile. He considered how to respond. Taken aback, Joey’s hands dropped from the edge of the chair, falling flush against his blue jeans.

“I ain’t sayin’ the choice isn’t yours, or mine to decide— but your choice is.. wrong. The only Yugi I know would never quit or give up. Not in a million years.” Joey hadn’t even noticed the discreet poison in his supposedly wise words.

‘The only Yugi.’

Yugi’s eyes flashed wildly, his fists suddenly held tight against the fabric of Joey’s shirt. Promptly yanked forward, the blonde flinched.

“You know nothing, Joey! You have no idea how I feel, or what I want! You aren't me! So don't try to tell me what I should and shouldn't do!” Yugi’s voice was strained, hoarse, and raspy with the rise of his tone. His chest heaved, sorrowful anger baring canine fangs.

The knife ripped through tender flesh.

“I’m nothing without him.” Joey pretended to ignore what he had heard in afterthought, Yugi’s hold on Joey’s shirt ceasing. His body lingered in place, heart thundering.

“You're wrong, Yugi. You're so wrong! If anyone understands, I do! Don't pretend like I'm some stranger to you—” He shot back. 

“Because I'm not. And don't go spoutin’ that bullshit about not bein’ good on your own, goddammit. You know for a fuckin fact that ain't true.” Yugi chose to ignore the first half. Joey's heart slammed against his ribcage, a caged dove soaked in the blood of his transgressions, rallying for escape.

Joey swallowed the guilt screaming from his bleeding heart.

“I know you better than anyone, believe me. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.” 

“You're wrong,” Yugi spoke, barely above a whisper. “What?” Joey nearly choked.

"You just don't get it.” Yugi stepped forward, close enough to Joey that he could hear his heart pounding in horrifying betrayal.

“Get what? I can't know these things if ya' don't tell me, Yugi!—” His breath labored.

“Just let me help you! Please. I’ll do anything ya’ need me to. Be— anything. Please, Yug, just let me in.” Joey pleaded.

He hated raising his voice to Yugi of all people. It wasn't fair to a grieving man who most likely could barely process his own emotions, let alone speak through them. 

“You can't,” Yugi’s demeanor was flat and depressive. He barely sounded like himself.

“What the hell? Why not? I need to know, Yugi! You can't leave me in the dark about this.” Yugi simply grimaced at Joey’s change in tone.

“I’m sure as fuck not going to leave you suffering. Why can't ya’ accept that I'm trying to help you?”

“Because—” Yugi started, voice trembling.

“Because? Because why? Tell me!” Joey had been well aware of the harshness of his questioning, but it didn't matter. Yugi was hurt, and he needed to get to the bottom of it, even if it hurt him more. Fire with fire.

“Because you're not him!” 

Oh. There it was.

The mention of a ‘him’ alluding to Yugi’s careful avoidance of speaking the Pharaoh‘s name aloud. Some sorrowful curse that constricted itself around the aching heart of his once cherished partner.

 It didn't take a smart person to understand Yugi’s faltering words. He meant to say one thing, and his heart was unchanging. Yugi’s honest words twisted the blade like none other.

The only person who had ever truly known him was Atem. 

Yami. 

The other Yugi. 

Joey's hands dropped to his sides, sudden anger dissipating into something numb in the absence.

“I know I can never be Atem for you. He’s irreplaceable, and I’m just Joey Wheeler.” The words were haunting, coming from his lips, but his heart had silenced. The implications in his words stung in his mouth— a direct acknowledgement and admission of something that could and should never be. 

Yugi’s face turned starkly pale, his hands flying to cover his mouth as he attempted to ward himself from gagging. Ducking his head away from Joey, he wretched and spat up what he had tried to avoid in futility. The words had gone straight to his stomach, awful feelings and memories forced down— only to come spilling out in vain.

Yugi sloppily wiped his mouth with his rolled sleeve, his back turned to the only person willing to share in his sorrow. He wobbled in his step.

“Nobody can. That's why you're feeling that emptiness.” Yugi slowly turned back toward his friend. The silence was overwhelming.

“I’m sorry— I just wanted to help—” Joey broke, wavering. 

“I know.” Yugi deadpanned.

“I just—” Joey's voice quivered, eyes stinging as he begged and pleaded for his own emotions to stay back. Any other time in the world, Joey would let his body wrack with sobs and anger, but that wasn't now.

He couldn't cry right now. Joey had to be strong when Yugi couldn't.

“I just hate to see ya’ like this. It ain't right—it ain't fair to you.” 

“Joey, please. Give it up.” Yugi pleaded.

“N— No way .. I’m not leaving you to grieve alone.” Despite the urge, Joey’s rage had taken a backseat. He wouldn't raise his voice at Yugi again if it killed him.

“There's nothing you can say that I haven't already heard. Please stop trying.” The bright, bristling flame that flickered in Yugi's heart was promptly doused in water. The wick had been cut back so short that it was unlikely the flame would burn properly once again if a match was struck. Extinguished.

Perhaps Yugi was right.

“I understand.” Joey took a step back.

“I need time. To myself.” Joey could see the tears flowing down Yugi’s face once more despite trying to hide them in a foolish attempt. It didn't matter that Joey was directly contradicting his own words if it meant Yugi had some form of control.

Joey didn't want to comply, but he wasn't about to fight against what Yugi wanted. He had already overstepped and overstayed his welcome more than enough.

The choice wasn't his to make.

He’d already lost Tristan and Teà over his anger, and now Yugi, too—three strikes in a row. Joey wondered when it was his turn to be out of the game.

“Alright.” There was simply no reason to argue. Joey's feet moved before his mind could retaliate, his hand reaching for the doorknob to the room that contained all of their conversation. It didn't matter how thin the walls were.

“I’m always here for you.” Joey’s words hung in the air.

“I just hope you'll do the same.” was left unsaid, the stale breath in his lungs. In truth, he wasn't so sure anymore. 

The door closed behind him, Yugi’s stillness unchanging as he slipped from view. Joey's trembling hand didn't dare leave the doorknob— what felt like the last connection between the severed closeness they shared.

It was cold in his hand.

The very last thing Joey had wanted to do was admit that Tristan was right about anything. 

The guy was such a hardass, the slightest bit of power and righteous behavior went straight to his head like a faux crown that shone with stolen valor. Of course, Joey would always forgive him for it. He had once been that way— and still was from time to time, admittedly.

Once upon a time, long ago, Joey and Tristan had defended a classmate from a creepy man out in public, the two of them being the only faces she happened to recognize. Sensing the danger, Tristan had stepped in as the girl’s so-called ‘boyfriend’ to deter the strange stalker. It worked, surprisingly.

Amid many thanks and ‘I-owe-you’s’, Tristan was determined to have his favor repaid with a date. Joey kicked him, saying it was overkill. But Tristan retorted that it was only polite to use his given IOU. In his mind, he had suddenly become a savior and friend to all women. His story would be praised in the high heavens, and girls would swoon into his arms. Of course, this never happened.

Joey had never wanted to strangle the lights out of his friend more, but the payback was well worth his arrogance, seeing that their classmate stood him up at their local diner. 

Needless to say, Tristan dropped it along with the death of his ego. A true shame he had gotten it back. Sure, he and Joey were close as friends could be, but sometimes he wondered if it was really a good idea to be so—

Especially after his words about Yugi. About Joey.

Yugi had been going through something difficult, but it was even more difficult trying to shed light on the darkness that shrouded the brilliant sunshine he radiated.

He was stubborn against someone who offered nothing but love, regardless of what kind. Joey’s hand dropped away from the doorknob, severing the strange feeling from his body. 

If not for the chatter of departing duelists in the hallway, Joey would’ve been confident the past hour was nothing more than a horrible nightmare he’d awake from. The voices stopped, and the two duelists closed their respective doors, both labeled as ‘guest’. He assumed the duels for the finalists were still going, since anyone out on the floor was to remain if they had made it past the final bracket. Joey recognized the two as runner-ups, falling just short of victory. 

It seemed they had both lasted far longer than the king himself. Fools.

Joey didn't intend to stick around any longer, lest the edges of his shittily duct-taped composure burst at any second. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold it in. Neither bodyguard acknowledged his quick exit.

The music and crowd from the ongoing events echoed through the stadium, cheers mixed with the grainy synth music that was played to hype up both duelists and the enthusiastic crowd. It was never going to be quiet, and Joey knew that. He just wished the stress hadn’t warranted the dull pain spreading in his forehead.

“Whoa! Hey, you’re Joey Wheeler, right?” A younger voice suddenly asked. Joey was caught off guard, slightly jumping at the sudden question. A kid no older than twelve stood in front of him, his eyes big as saucers. A Duel Disk was slotted on his arm, strangely enough.

Joey scraped together his emotions and mustered the best fake-it-til-you-make-it attitude he could, smiling at the kid. 

“Sure am! You a fan?” The young duelist nodded eagerly.

“I knew it! You’re friends with Yugi Mutou! I knew you’d be here!” Joey absentmindedly adjusted his stance.

“You got that right! He and I? Best buddies. Now, what can ol’ Joey do for you? Want an autograph?” Joey began reaching into his deep pockets, searching for a pen, which he usually had for situations like this. To his fortune, he found it.

The kid’s face went red, seeming embarrassed to affirm the question. He nodded.

“C- could you tell Yugi that he was awesome? I know he lost.. and stuff. B- but so did I.” The young duelist held up his duel disk, which had been powered off, signifying a shared loss.

Joey felt the strings in his heart go taut. 

The kid handed Joey a Duel Monsters card depicting an orange serpent that had clearly been well-loved, his hands slightly trembling as it was accepted.

“Of course. I’ll let him know.” Joey gave the kid a forced smile, quickly signing the card with his usual silly time wizard icon. 

“Thank you, Mr. Wheeler!” The young duelist graciously held his prize, darting off in the opposite direction to where some other kids had been hiding just out of sight. He watched as their faces lit up in awe at the sight of their friend’s treasure.

Once out of view, Joey let his smile drop, his breath trembling in tandem with his crumbling composure. There was only so much stress that he could handle, and those limits had already been severely pushed beyond their maximum.

Joey began walking, his pace aimless in his footing. Anywhere was better than back in the viewing box or the duelist’s lounge, which meant confronting his so-called friends again.

He doubted they’d want to speak to him, anyway.

It was a stupid thought. Of course, they didn't hate him and never could, but he’d have a lot of apologizing to do after all was said and done. Mess up, apologize, move on. Rinse and repeat. Forgiveness was a virtue, but it only went so far— the limits of which he was dangerously testing.

Hazily dragging himself up flights of stairs that felt familiar from the hour previous, Joey found himself face to face with a steel door, a metal sign reading ‘upper deck’ written in red letters. 

Pushing open the door, cold air blasted the blonde in the face. He shivered on contact, thankful to at least have brought his jacket along. His skin prickled into goosebumps under the thin fabric, useless against the chilly September air.

The doorway had led to a high-up rooftop balcony, and the sounds of conversation and lively chatter immediately registered in his mind. Strangely dressed patrons, whom Joey could only assume were elite guests of the event, mingled around hologram screens to watch the playing field.

At this point, the very last duel of the night was wrapping up. The winners' brackets continued to climb even after Yugi’s defeat, continuing on in his stead as if nothing had happened. Nobody left in disappointment, nobody cried, and nobody seemed to look deeper—things simply just were as such.

Perhaps the high-stakes yen bets that fans had placed on the winning duelist garnered conversation of Yugi’s crushing defeat, but none of the men in the space seemed to speak of it. Yugi had lost, and that was that. 

A long bar counter stretched across the deck, men in long coats and flashy jewelry sitting idly as if belonging to some high society club. Probably Kaiba’s clients, Joey thought. 

He rolled his eyes at the mental image of the CEO entertaining a bunch of rich pricks, frolicking in cash. It only occurred to Joey then and there that he was obviously out of place among the supposed elites.

His old, nearly threadbare green jacket that he sported was something he had held on to for years, becoming a favorite item after the Duelist Kingdom tournament. Luck had been woven into the fabric itself, or so Joey felt. A newer t-shirt with the logo of the American band Guns N’ Roses was neatly tucked under and pulled over his waistband. He hadn’t spared the silver necklace he always wore, either.

Baggy skater pants had been dug out of the back of his closet, and had once been his favorite back when the American trend of wide-legged jeans had surfaced. Determined to wear something that wasn’t in his three default outfits, Joey had even gotten a pair of brand-new high-tops, which he considered nice.

Sure, he was put together, but nothing compared to the people who gave him strange looks—not like it mattered anyway. He was a pro duelist, and that was no easy feat to accomplish. Dignity couldn’t be bought, although Joey wondered if Kaiba would find some bullshit way to. 

Walking up to the counter, Joey cleared his throat. 

The bartender was a well-dressed man with a mustache, and just so happened to give Joey the most diabolical stink eye he had ever received, even by Kaiba’s standards. Joey groaned to himself, loathing that the prick had come up in his thoughts again.

Joey dug into his pocket, searching for his wallet, which he had stuffed in a hurry. He’d always kept it in the same spot, only now, the pants he wore were far different from his normal attire.  

“Can I help you?” The bartender asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah—yeah, yeah. One.. sec.”

Joey quickly patted down various pockets in his jeans, searching for his suddenly missing wallet to no avail. He understood how ridiculous he looked, but it was a bit too late. Joey yanked out car keys, a tangled pair of earbuds, the pen he had used, a used lighter, and an old receipt from a fast food restaurant—but no wallet. Promptly, he shoved it all back in.

“C’mon..” Joey silently mouthed to himself, nearly spinning in circles like an idiot. He was only the luckiest man in the whole world right about now.

Drinking had already been a bad idea from the start, not even being a fan of much alcohol anyway. Sure, he would have a shitty tasting beer here and there, but it left a literal sour taste in his mouth. The last thing he wanted was to end up like his damned drunkard father.

One drink couldn't hurt for a change, and it wasn't like he was going to blow all his cash and get shitfaced anyway. Something to take the edge off, realistically. To help forget.

Coming to the embarrassing realization that it was nowhere to be found, Joey nearly cried in relief at the feeling of a rectangular shape in his pocket. Yanking it out amid the strange stares from the bartender, what met his eyes was no wallet, but a crumpled box of cheap cigarettes. 

Old, cheap cigarettes. The sight made his stomach drop.

“If you aren't going to order something, please move from the line.” The bartender gestured to the small line of people who now stood behind the blonde. 

“Right, right. Sorry.” Joey flashed an awkward smile, stepping off to the side and away from the scene he had just caused. 

Walking to a part of the terrace not as populated, Joey took a shaky breath. Studying the crumpled box in his palm, the label was something that brought back a specific unpleasant memory.

Yugi always hated it when Joey smoked. His speeches about how bad it was and how dangerous for health reasons seemed almost automated and recited despite Yugi being legitimately concerned. Joey didn't take him seriously.

It took months of nagging for Joey to listen. Yugi expressed his concern for his friend’s increasingly frequent habit. Joey swore to quit if it made Yugi’s worries at peace.

So, he did. Tossing out all the cigarettes he owned, Joey promised to make Yugi never worry about his health, which was likely impossible, because Yugi worried about everyone.

Although, it seemed he had missed a pack—undiscovered and tucked away until now. When one door closed, another opened. The mere idea of breaking a promise to Yugi felt like a sin in itself, but desperation had a much stronger bite than the unwarranted guilt. 

Joey prayed that Yugi would never find out about his slip-up.

Fishing his pocket, Joey found the lighter. It felt cool in his hand, smooth plastic against his clammy palm. Sliding a cigarette from the crumpled box, his shaky fingers flicked the lighter to spark, and then a small steady flame.

Lighting the end to a red glow, the taste and scent were exactly the same as he remembered. A bad habit, sure, but oddly comforting. With it came memories of High School, which was now a bittersweet thing of the past.

He’d claimed to have picked up smoking as a bad habit to deal with the stress of the grades he supposedly didn't care about, but anyone with a bit of sense knew that it was, in fact, a big fat lie.

In truth, it was a normalized thing in the gang that he once was part of in middle school. Delinquents with no shame, no mercy, and no dignity that he now held dearly. The habit lingered, a guilty pleasure when things turned stressful. 

He simply was unable to kick the habit until it was specifically for Yugi’s sake. There had only been two left in the box, anyway. Precious, forbidden crumbs. The box enclosed in his hand was almost priceless.

Joey regularly thanked Lady Luck, but right about now, she deserved a gracious offering.

It was more than a momentary bliss amid the stressful situation Joey found himself in. Sure, he was the one to blame, but even the most violent dogs need peace. He closed his eyes.

The sound of someone clearing their throat rather loudly sent a jolt through his body.

“Wheeler,” The peace truly had been momentary. 

“I already knew you were illiterate, but you can't decipher pictures, either? I was wise not to expect much from a dog.” Seto Kaiba had appeared from seemingly thin air, his arms crossed with the abhorrent amount of sass he radiated.

He pointed to a sign on the wall behind him, clearly depicting a cigarette with a line crossed over it, the threat of a 500 yen fine in bold letters directly below.

Joey was left speechless, the wind in his lungs suddenly gone. Kaiba marched up, gripped his wrist, and raised an eyebrow at the sight of the crumpled box. He cautiously plucked it from the blonde's fingers, grimacing as if some rancid, unclean item.

“Montego?” Kaiba snickered, a single word. Joey’s heart beat wildly in anger, voice loud and clear in his head.

“Give it back—” He swiped at the box in Kaiba's hands. Joey was fast, but Kaiba was faster. Raising his hand above his head, the CEO was practically asking him to jump.

“This is a non-smoking campus, Wheeler. You can either pay the fee or be escorted out if you don't comply.” 

“W— what the hell, man? I ain't paying no stupid fee! I didn't even see that the sign was there! How was I s’possed to know?” Kaiba's grin only grew.

“Common sense.” 

Joey nearly growled, unfortunately not helping his mutt allegations. 

“Cut the crap, Kaiba. I really didn't know. I’ll stop, man. Gimme some slack.” 

Joey reached out his hand, feigning some stupid expectation that Kaiba might actually comply and return his shitty sentimental cigarettes. Kaiba slowly lowered his hand from above his head. For a moment, Joey was surprised, but it was hilariously short-lived.

Joey watched in horror as Kaiba tossed the box over the railing. 

“Woops.” 

Kaiba’s face suddenly looked more punchable than normal. The now discarded box fluttered to the ground below. Joey couldn't help but sigh.

“Yer’ a real pal, y’know. Could've just been civil, but no. Of course not.” Joey turned, one hand on the railing where he'd just witnessed a crime. 

“I am not your ‘pal’. You disgust me.” Kaiba reiterated, not seeming to catch the sarcasm. 

“Noo! Really? God, I'm devastated! I thought we were besties!” Joey batted his eyelashes dramatically, catching Kaiba incredibly off guard. His face physically, viscerally cringed.

“Of fuckin’ course you ain't!” Kaiba blinked.

“For someone as high n’ mighty as The ‘Great’ Seto Kaiba, you sure are socially inept. Forgot you rich pricks come right out the box with no emotions. Figures you never learned to not take other people's stuff, either.” Joey's lips quirked to an evil grin, an act of vengeance.

“Shut your mouth, dog.” He simply answered, deadpan, none the more spry.

“Why? Did doggy hurt your feelings? I didn't even think you had those!” Kaiba looked as if he wanted to chuck him over the railing, too.

“At least I can control mine.” Point blank. Joey's laughter stopped.

“Struck a nerve?” Kaiba raised an eyebrow, his question hanging in the air. Joey didn't want to answer, but the CEO’s words hit the bullseye. Rebutting would only prove him right.

“Least’ I have some.” Joey quietly mouthed.

“Too much. You're a sap.” 

“Wise coming from someone like you. You wouldn't know emotional awareness if it smacked you in the face. I bet you know a lot about that, ya’ hardass.” 

“Your lewd jokes bore me.” Somehow, that was the only thing Kaiba took away.

“Good to know you’re at least slightly perceptive.” 

“You're wasting my time.” Kaiba grimaced, looking at the watch on his wrist.

“Likewise!” Joey retaliated, purposely louder.

“Pay the fine, then. Do us both a favor.” His words suddenly made Joey remember the situation at hand. 

“I ain't ‘ doing shit. It's no favor to you, anyway. You have enough money, asshole.” Kaiba frowned at Joey’s accusing finger point.

“I don't want your lunch money, Wheeler. I want you to take accountability, if you even know that word.” 

“The hells’ that supposed to mean? Because I’ll keep my damn money if you so insist.” Joey instinctively reached for his wallet to shove in Kaiba’s face as a statement, but the only thing that fell into his palm was a lighter and a crumpled receipt. Kaiba raised an eyebrow. 

“I don't want your trash.” Kaiba snarked. Joey felt his neck flush red.

“That's — not what I meant to grab. Y’know what, forget it. There's no point in reasoning with you.” Joey's hand grabbed at the dog tag he wore, fidgeting as if it would save him from embarrassment. The fact that he had been carrying junk in his pockets instead of his wallet—which he wasn't about to admit to Kaiba's face— had been misplaced.

“You're wasting your breath.” Of course, Joey had more to say to this.

Kaiba's eyes lingered over to one of the hologram screens, which was replaying recorded footage from the duels that had taken place earlier in the night. A familiar face flashed across the screen, to which Kaiba found himself entranced like a wild animal watching prey. He'd completely drowned out Joey’s grating voice.

He was still talking.

Kaiba absentmindedly moved, walking over to one of the screens. A play-by-play segment of Yugi’s moves and choices during the battle danced across the screen.

It felt like forever since Kaiba had seen him in action, but he wasn't going to admit that it interested him aloud. Especially not with Joey biting his ankles.

“So we’re done? Got nothin’ else to say? You chicken?” Kaiba wished he had a snooze button. Kaiba didn't respond. Joey walked around him, now noticing what he had been so fixated on.

“Be quiet.” For once, Joey did as told.

The screen showed Yugi towards the end of his duel, clearly drawing his cards with a nervous fray that was evident to Joey, who knew his exact behaviors to a T. His monsters had been wiped clean from the floor, and his life points were suffering just as much. 

Yugi hardly ever lost, which was an incredible thing in itself. Yugi’s pride was the benefactor of his unending optimism, characteristic of his overwhelming positivity. This time, though, he hardly looked the part. 

Perhaps someone who saw him only as an opponent wouldn't have caught it, but Yugi smiled when he was nervous. Of course, Joey recognized his habit.

“A king only rules for so long.” 

Kaiba’s comment was simple. Cut and dry. Not explicit, but straightforward.

“Your point?” Joey’s words left his mouth before he could think. Kaiba turned to look at Joey, who stood frozen. Oddly, the atmosphere had changed.

“It's simple. The crown is passed—” Kaiba was abruptly cut off.

“Except Yugi ain't done. That crown is still his.” Joey jabbed a finger at Kaiba. He pressed it against the man’s chest, an oddly fast beating heart under his fingertip. In turn, an odd feeling settled in his stomach.

Kaiba’s eyes moved back to the replay instead of Joey's ugly mug.

“Yugi Mutou no longer displays the skills to be the King of Games. You would know if you actually watched the duel, which I doubt.” Kaiba’s accusation knocked the wind from his lungs, speechless. It hurt, but his words weren't shy of the truth.

“That’s complete bullshit. I came to support him, and I did. What's your excuse?” Kaiba made a noise as if to call Joey an idiot without uttering a word. 

“Yugi and I are not friends. There's no point.” Kaiba didn't need much of an explanation for his actions.

“Even so, you watched his duel. Rival, fan, or stranger, you still watched." 

Joey’s hands rested in his pockets, thumb brushing over the various items he carried. For whatever reason, Kaiba wouldn't admit to watching Yugi. Although he had confirmed it accidentally. The CEO was a rather bad liar, in truth. It was so out of character for a stone-faced asshole like Kaiba, it was almost cute.

“Believe what you want, Wheeler.” 

“Believe what I want?" He echoed, a laugh following. Joey’s temper surged, teetering over the barrier of explosion that would erupt into a hellish blaze. Kaiba’s bullshit had pushed enough buttons to feel the consequences. At this point, he deserved the fire.

“Oh. You wanna’ know what I believe? I believe you’re an emotionally constipated, narcissistic asshole with zero sense of empathy. Your ego is so ridiculously massive, you sound like an idiot every time you talk.” Joey mimicked Kaiba’s stance, accompanied by an embarrassingly bad impression. 

“You’re so bad, not even your own brother will tell you to your face!” Joey watched as Kaiba’s eyes burned with fury behind his facade, signaling that his words had hit home.

“Keep Mokuba’s name out of your filthy mouth.”

“Then don't speak about Yugi like that!” Out of all things, a strange smirk settled on Kaiba’s lips. His casual wickedness made Joey wish he could just punch until the lights went out.

“You’re offended because I presented facts?” Joey was reminded once again that Kaiba was an emotionless prick without a shred of empathy. The split second he had considered otherwise was long gone.

“It ain't facts. All you spout is nonsensical bullshit! You have no idea what he's going through.” Joey's words had betrayed him once more.

“There’s no need for me to. Yugi was respectable as a duelist, but he and I are not friends. We simply existed in the same orbit. His skills were admirable, unlike yours.” Kaiba’s usage of past-tense words made Joey sick. 

“For fucks sake, Kaiba. I ain't askin’ you to bend over backwards and kiss your own ass. Yugi hasn't dueled for seven months because he’s fuckin’ grieving!” Joey’s hands shook in anger.

“And quit actin’ like he’s dead or somethin’! I already told you, the crown still belongs to Yugi fair and square!” He kept going, lungs straining. 

“I have no reason to subscribe to your friend’s grief. Yugi is no more than a by-product of the millennium puzzle; the only one I'm interested in is the Pharaoh.”

 If Kaiba had still been standing next to the short railing of the balcony, the people walking below would've had a billionaire-shaped obstacle to dodge.

“I don't know what I expected you’d say—” Joey’s words came flat. A metaphorical calm before the storm.

“You and I are not friends. You do not get that luxury, mutt.” Kaiba reiterated. Joey's blood ran hot, threatening to blow steam if he didn't act rationally.

“Yeah, like I'd ever want to call someone like you my friend in the first place..” Joey fumed, his rage boiling under the surface. Kaiba’s expression was all but remorseful.

The screen displayed a final bracket chart for the night, and Joey quickly noticed that Yugi had been defeated only in his fourth round out of twenty. Sure, one duelist had to lose their match to move on— but four out of twenty was a humiliating equation.

The champion had been named, rewarded, and praised right before the crowd’s gaze. They cheered regardless of who won, because to them, Yugi had just been another opponent to become a stepping stone for the winner. The thought was sickening.

Now, even his greatest rival saw him as obsolete.

“Grief is only for the weak. Cry as much as you want, but you can't raise the dead with your tears.” 

Every time Kaiba opened his mouth, his words were poisonous. Cold. Calculated. Manufactured to hurt anyone with a human heart, which he himself didn’t possess.

Fortunately, Joey did.

“Genuinely go fuck yourself. Burn in hell, asshole.” Joey smoothed down his hair like the bristling fur it was. Without as much as a second glance, he paced hastily away from the CEO, shoulder-checking him on the way toward the doorway. 

Flinging the steel door open, Joey stepped through. The lights were bright, and the stadium slowly lost volume as fans made their way to the exit to go home. The events were over, and the night had ended. 

Select crowds would stick around to try to rush the pro duelists for questioning and autographs, which were usually frowned upon. But the media and press got a free pass under Kaibacorp's rules for their properties. 

Joey checked over his shoulder to be sure Kaiba hadn't followed. The coast was clear.

In many different ways, the blonde felt himself ripping apart at the seams and burning with uncontrollable, blistering heat inside. Every bit of his body ached and burned in rage without an outlet to be dispelled to. One lucky method of relaxation had only led to unwanted anger and vile thoughts, which Joey was nowhere near proud of. 

Serenity had never been one to fall victim to the wildfire that her brother held in his soul— but the dry leaves that ignited him in the first place had been the work of their father. Joey had been the one to take the heat, shielding his sister even if it reduced him to ash in the process. 

Surviving the blaze, Joey found that the flame of rage had become instilled in himself out of resentment. Try as he may to mould his imminent rage into a weapon for self-defense, a fire cannot be doused with tears alone. 

At least, until Hirutani appeared. Suddenly, an outlet was available. Joey’s sense of morality had been tossed out the window in desperation to quench the fire that scorched him internally. 

The fire still raged. With time, it steadily grew at alarming rates— threatening to char joey from the inside out if he didn't take control sooner or later. Only now, Joey wasn't sure how much longer that ‘sooner-or-later’ was.

Lost in thought, Joey hadn't realized that he was back in front of the duelist's lounge again— his stomach in knots. The mere idea that Yugi could walk out at any moment and face him was horrifying. Looking him in the eyes only to find a scared child staring back. The thought was nauseating. 

The bodyguards had vanished, most likely escorting more esteemed guests out.

Guilt clung to Joey’s ankles like dead weight, unable to pry his feet from place. He wanted out. The invisible force that chained him was unmoving and tightened with every struggle like a snake.

“It's impolite to walk away from a conversation.” His hair stood on end, metaphorical chains snapping in an instant. Kaiba slowly paced around to face the blonde, his arms folded nearly over his chest.

“Fuck off, Kaiba.” Joey’s words had been steeped in a dosage of Kaiba’s own poison, bitterness lingering on his tongue. It made him gag.

“That's no way to speak to your superiors, Wheeler.” Kaiba wagged a finger at the blonde as if he had been a misbehaving child.

“You ain't my superior. Just cus’ you’re some rich fuckin’ prick doesn't mean you get to treat me like less!” Joey stepped forward to face Kaiba, who loomed over him by nearly five inches. But Joey had no problem cutting down trees.

“You’ve always been a pathetic duelist. Know your place before running your mouth to someone who doesn't even notice your existence.”

 Kaiba’s insults were nothing Joey hadn't heard before— but the feeling that accompanied them this time was odd. Not unpleasant, but not exactly comfortable either. The blonde forced himself to disregard the thought.

“You’re embarrassing. Get a fuckin’ hobby other than being an absolute douche just so ya’ can get off to the idea of feeling powerful.” Kaiba's face recoiled and cringed at the comment, an obvious redness creeping up his neck despite his reaction.

“You intend to insult me with sexual jokes. Is that it?” Joey ignored his question, although the urge to respond with snark was tempting.

“You’re pathetic. Anything less than all bark with no bite is everything you’ll ever measure up to.” The smirk returned to Kaiba’s lips.

One by one, the remaining walls that contained the blaze crumbled to charred dust.

“A loser dog sniveling and whining at the feet of greatness. If you really want to prove that you’re worth anything, start by admitting—” Joey snapped.

Shoving the brunette forward with immense force, Kaiba stumbled to the ground— his body hitting the concrete hard. Joey lunged, his body on top of the CEO before he could even react or fight back.

Fists slammed into skin, horrifyingly wet and fleshy sounds filling the air as Kaiba helplessly thrashed and cursed, attempting to throw Joey from his position to no avail. The blood splattered against his face, arms, and the floor in disgusting puddles.

“Shut.. the fuck up! Shut up!”Joey cursed, his voice not much more than a snarl amid the heavy breathing. His fists continued to beat the hell out of someone so vile that Joey didn't even want his blood under his nails.

To Joey's surprise, Kaiba threw him off. Landing on his side, Joey quickly clambered to his feet. The blood that dripped from Kaiba's face ran down his neck and painted his high—collared trenchcoat a sickening, splotchy red.

“You’re barbaric..” Kaiba spat, his lip busted and bleeding amid his words. Joey knocked into him again, Kaiba hardly pushing back against the brute force that was Joey Wheeler. Grabbing his coat, Joey shoved him against a nearby wall. Although looking upwards, the anger in his gaze bristled with heat unimaginable.

“You’re going to eat those fuckin’ words—” Kaiba didn't fight back, let alone raise a fist. He simply let it happen, pinned against the wall of a stadium he had designed and built by someone who wasn't even at his eye level.

Dropping his coat from his grip, Joey slammed his elbow into the man’s chest, watching in double over slowly as the wind was knocked from his lungs. Kaiba’s gaze all but radiated resentment of his attacker, which brought a twisted sense of pride.

“Mangy.. mutt!” Gathering his stance, Kaiba yanked the blonde with a stray grab, his fingers encircled around the silver dog tag that he wore. Joey had been sure to buy an unbreakable chain due to the number of times he’d lost the damn thing, which turned out to be an unfortunate move on his part. 

Joey clawed at his own neck, trying to break free of the strangulation he was now faced with, to his utter horror. Kaiba’s shaky arms were far too long for someone like him, and spelled danger if he didn't act quickly.

Raising his hand with the blonde in his grip, he could hardly touch the ground anymore. The sight of blood that spilled from the brunette’s nose and mouth was satisfying, but satisfaction was hard to grasp when Joey could barely differentiate his own feelings.

The pain was— good. It hurt like a bitch. But, for whatever reason, it wasn't awful. Try as he may to pry the chain from his neck, Kaiba only pulled tighter the more he flailed—A dangerous game of push and pull that he didn't want to end.

The sensation was so odd. Joey felt his heart race, nearly erupting from his chest at the chain dug into his skin. He nearly moaned, whining and begging to be let go under the strain, although he wasn't sure if it was really what he wanted. Kaiba had been cursing the entire time, but words were the last thing he paid attention to.

Joey’s body was dropped abruptly, crumpling to the ground. 

Kaiba’s shoe found him first, a firm press to his chest as Joey found his eyes refocusing. He coughed, legs tucked into his chest in a fetal position.

“You’re an embarrassment! Violent, stupid, dog!” Words faded in and out of coherence. Whether it was out of lack of oxygen or not, Joey couldn't help but laugh. The look of horror on his face was telling; the blonde was barely able to focus his spinning vision in the first place. 

“You're — far more rough.. than I remember.” Kaiba gagged.

The cold stone floor against Joey’s face was a breath of fresh air, the rest of his body searing with a strange and unfamiliar heat. A hand slowly reached up to touch the spot where the silver necklace chain had broken skin, tearing away at sensitive flesh.

His fingers traced the spot, a horridly embarrassing feeling that slithered its way to his groin.

A gasp escaped his lips. Kaiba slowly backed away, but was rapidly approached by multiple other pairs of feet at an alarming pace. Loud shouts and footfall echoed through the walkway, one in particular staying in place from the start. 

Joey could barely tell left from right.

Slowly pushing himself off the floor into a sit, Joey realized what had been going on through his foggy vision. Two men seized him by the arms, both clearly displaying police badges. 

The terror made itself known, Joey's heart dropping into his stomach at the sight around him.

Across the way, Kaiba was also being detained. Fighting and yelling at the cops who held both his wrists, Joey was forced to his feet, eyes locked on the battered face of Kaibacorp. Using all his strength to push back, the men eventually got a handle on him.

Directly adjacent, a small camera crew stood silently. The expressions on their faces told as if they had just witnessed an unspeakable crime. To Joey's horror, the cameras bore the symbol of The World Duelist Broadcast Station.

Joey had been interviewed by them before for various events he participated in. But why here, of all places, at this specific time? Joey wasn't sure.

One of the people, however, was familiar amidst his foggy vision. It shouldn't have taken Joey longer than a half a second to realize who would look at him with such sorrow.

Then it clicked.

Silently watching as his friend was put into handcuffs, Yugi did little more than stare, lips parted in a silent yell for the policemen to release his friend.

Or so that's what he hoped.

The disgusting look of pity on Yugi’s face told Joey all he needed to know— He wasn't going to help. 

Joey’s sluggish mind begged, pleaded, yelled, and screamed for it not to be true. For Yugi to be some horrible hallucination. For his face to be smiling, instead. But, the damage was done.

His violet eyes met Joey’s brown for a second, feeling an eternity. Joey watched as Yugi turned and ran in the other direction.

Joey Wheeler found himself wishing he had been knocked unconscious.