Title: The Back Seat
Author: ABoH (aboh)
Disclaimer: Yu-gi-oh and the characters do not belong to me. This story is written for the purpose of entertainment and no money is made from it.
A/N: This is written completely for jurhael. I'm not sure if this is what you want but at any rate, do read it. Happy Christmas~
There are times he thinks the world is a shitload of things that need to be trampled or shot into nothingness. The current rain for an example. Every spatter of water on the cold glass is followed immediately by another until the glass is blasted by a full torrent. There is not a single thing in this weather that he can refer to as 'romantic' which many souls claim in poetry. Yet, it is not as if he doesn't admit to have no poetry in his soul.
A revenger does not need poetry.
Beside him, Valon is tapping the glass briefly with the knuckles of his left hand, alternative between the number of them, as if doing so may make enough different sounds to be drawn into music. The tap tap sounds are small but quite clear, even clearer than the splish splash sounds on the car's roof and the soprano voice from the speakers. It is still as monotone as the scenery outside which the rain has smudged into dark stains of a child's canvas. There should be things more interesting in life than sitting in a car for hours.
The very least he can find tolerable is the comfortable seat, smelling of leather and saddle soap. Not just the seat actually. Everything in the car is clean, the cigarette stray even emptied recently. His eyes, however, don't miss a brown spot on the carpet barely three inches away from the tip of his boots. First, he suspect it is street dirt carried over by a round heel but then, after a while, he comes to a second guess -- chocolate flavored ice cream stain. At this point, it doesn't matter to him that he has no support for his conclusion, the whole point being that he is thinking about food, more specifically ice cream and it is a coincidence that chocolate is his flavor. It is again a coincidence that Valon's hair color is his favorite and so is Valon's eye color.
He doesn't think he is at fault for liking, loving or lusting over Valon -- hell, probably he is feeling a combination of the three. In general, he doesn't want to stay at the same place at the same time with Valon and flip off his fingers at the general topics they have to say -- missions, Yugi's gang, Kaiba, drinking, women -- until they run out of topics. There are other things to say but they won't -- the past that they have been trying to bury deep into ash and dust of time but always seem to hover on the edges of consciousness, waiting for a chance to claw and tear their minds and memories out. That is the reason why, sometimes, it is better to say nothing.
At this point, he blames Dartz for stuffing them into a car when motorcycles are their preferred traveling solution. Does Dartz truly think they will buy the shit about 'secrecy as the top priority in this mission'? They like to do things their way but rules are always there to imposed upon them.
The radio suddenly gives a hiss of static long enough to distort the voice into a shriek and when the music returns, there is again that annoying singer whom he will gladly make his shooting target. The sky outside is getting dark. It is still quite too early to fall asleep properly on the car the way most people do when they get car sickness. That is why he startles when Valon drops his head on his shoulder and goes still. Raphael glances at them from the rear mirror, scowling slightly at their not wearing seatbelts. He could have grinned at the expression but doing so might disturb Valon who seems fasting asleep against him.
Still, he asks quietly. "Valon, are you sleeping?"
The boy makes a small sound -- a mixture between a coo and a hmp. He takes it as a yes, quite lured by a desire to droop his eyes and sleep but he's just realized that there are suddenly more things to glance at than the stained carpet. From his position, he has an interesting view of Valon's dark eyelashes and the top of his nose. And since the slope of his shoulder and a part of his chest are uncovered from this angle, it's relatively simple to switch his attention to them. And since the rest of Valon is on the path of his eyesight, he--
"Damn." Valon sends a kick to the back of Raphael's seat, admirably not moving an inch the top half of his body. "Turn off the fucking music."
Just exactly what he meant to say.
Raphael pushes a button and the channel switches to the news, or what that can pass as one with all the static noises. When he strains his ears enough, he realizes that the reporter is talking about... Seto fucking Kaiba's plan to organize a new tournament and all the shit that goes with it.
Just great, so fucking great, indeed. Rich boy and his flow of money from the manufacture of weapons. Now, he is sure that he'd like to put his hand in that boy's chest and rip off his heart to hold it in his hand and see if it is as black as he thinks. There is a satisfaction in seeing that boy twist in pain and go down on his knees in front of him.
He bites his lips, isn't aware that his hand is clawing on the leather seat until Valon's hands wrap around his.
"It isn't good to damage the rent car, Alister. Why don't you try me instead?"
And then, without his control, his hand is set on Valon's chest, his fingers not bending but splaying flat on that beating heart, exactly where it wants to be. He doesn't know how and why and when Valon can read his mind but when he can think again, it occurs to me that he must have been speaking out his thoughts. He doesn't move, Valon's head still on his shoulder, his body arranged to completely clean against his.
And the best thing he can do at that moment is to put his arm around Valon and pull him close.
"I'll never hurt you," he says, his voice smaller than a whisper but he knows Valon can hear it -- feel it.
Yes, Valon is someone to protect, not to hurt.