Fourteen months, Yuugi thought as he watched his daughter sleep. Very gently, he reached for her, touching the baby’s soft skin. He didn’t want to wake her, so he was careful as he brushed her rosy cheek, avoiding to make any noise or sudden movement. The adoption agency had estimated Tzuziko’s age to be around twelve months when Yuugi and Atemu first got to hold her. It had been difficult to pinpoint her exact age as she was left at the doorstep of the agency without much more than a change of clothes. Two months had passed since the fortunate day Yuugi and Atemu had welcomed the baby girl in their midst. What had happened to this child in her young life? Ooshimuru, the agency who had guided them through the whole adoption process, had been scarce with background information. The girl had been born to a very young mother who simply couldn’t take care of her, and the baby had been passed along the family until someone had put her up for adoption. It was such a harsh rejection that it made Yuugi’s heart ache, but he wasn’t in the position to judge - what did he know about the exact circumstances? Maybe Tzuziko’s mother had tried to the best of her abilities, and maybe she was crying every night for the loss of her daughter. He couldn’t help but feel sad for the girl, left alone to her own devices, and no one reaching out to help her.
His fingers touched her nose, still very gently; he just couldn’t help looking at her, trying to convince himself that she was really here, really lying in the crib, really his daughter. Yes, she really was here, after three years of waiting and patiently following every procedure in the book. Their patience had been rewarded, and Yuugi already knew that Tzuziko wasn’t going to be their only child. Atemu would file for another adoption procedure as soon as things had settled around the Game Shop and life in general.
“Isn’t she adorable?”
It wasn’t Atemu behind him this time, but his mother. Her voice was soft, also not to wake the sleeping Tzuziko. She moved towards the small dresser and put a pile of clean towels on top of it. Mutou Yusuke couldn’t get enough of her grandchild either, often checking up on the baby and helping out with feeding and changing diapers. She made sure not to impose herself or to intrude, but her eyes lit up significantly when her expertise was called for, showing a smile on her face that hadn’t been there since her father, Yuugi’s grandfather, had passed away.
“She is,” Yuugi said, looking up with a grateful smile. “A little miracle, and she’s all ours.”
She ruffled her son’s hair. “She’s all ours to care for and to love, to hold and to raise.”
“If only jii-chan would be still around to see her grow up.”
“At least he saw her,” Yusuke said, “and he got to hold her. He even told her a few bedtime stories, all about Ancient Egypt and golden puzzle boxes. His time was far too short, yes… but he saw her, Yuugi-kun, and we have to be thankful for every minute he was able to spend with her.”
“I know, kaa-san,” Yuugi said and his voice grew a little louder, loud enough for the baby to make a noise on her own, as if she was protesting. Yuugi immediately lowered his voice again.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel said about it. It just shouldn’t be like this. He should just be around, to tell her more bedtime stories, to teach her about games, as he taught me.”
“We all wanted him to stay longer,” his mother said, a sad frown on her face. Her grip on her son was just a little tighter. “But we have to be thankful for the time he was with her, and with us,” she repeated.
Yuugi simply nodded and withdrew his hand. Tzuziko smacked her lips and made another non-committal sound, as if she was mourning the loss of his warm fingers. The rag doll, her only possession as she left the agency, had been washed and patched up by Yuugi’s mother and sat on her pillow, close to her head. Yuugi knew his mother adored Tzuziko, but he wondered if she would love the baby even more if she had been his natural daughter. Yusuke had never pushed Yuugi to find himself a wife and start a family, and she had barely made a comment when he had come home with Atemu, even if she had to blink a few times at her son-in-law looking exactly like…well, her own son.
“You’re a responsible parent now,” she continued to talk, voice a whisper. “She’ll be counting on you, Yuugi-kun.”
“Yes, I know,” Yuugi said. It filled him with fear and gratitude at the same time. Fear of making mistakes, gratitude for the life he was responsible for; he was glad he didn’t have to do it all alone. “I’m so glad mou hitori no boku is here to help me.”
Yusuke had never asked why her son and his boyfriend referred to each other the way they did. She didn’t understand about Ceremonial Duels, Sennen Items or Pharaohs; all that she knew and cared about, was that Yuugi was happy with his partner. How they choose to call each other, was their business, even if it sounded weird to her in the beginning.
“You’re both going to be wonderful parents,” she said with the utmost faith in her voice. “Tzuziko-chan couldn’t have wished for better fathers.”
Fathers. How well was this society prepared and willing to accept same sex parents? What kind of trouble was Tzuziko going to deal with in her life? Yuugi was the kind of person to see things in a positive way, but he couldn’t deny the difficulties lying ahead of them. Once again, he was really glad he didn’t have to do it all alone. With his mother and Atemu to support him, to form a real family, he was sure everything would work out for the best. They would make it work out for the best.
“I wish I had his strength, though,” Yuugi mumbled. His mother continued to stroke his hair, the motion soothing them both.
“You’re also very strong, Yuugi-kun. Don’t you ever forget about it.”
“Mou hitori no boku says that all the time too.”
“So why don’t you believe him?”
Yuugi remained silent. Was he really that strong? He, who had buckled immediately when his grandfather died? He couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. He had done nothing but cry. Atemu was the one who had taken care of all the arrangements. He was the one keeping the store open and the household going. Atemu had been adamant in his belief that they were ready and fit to be parents and Yuugi had gone along with him, enamored with the idea of forming a perfect, loving family. But now that it was so real, he was getting afraid. What if he was doing it all wrong? Tzuziko was so vulnerable and so dependent. She had a lifetime of sadness and sorrow behind her and she was barely twelve months old.
How strong was he really, if he crumbled like this as soon as something happened? He couldn’t even balance his own life, so why would he believe that he was strong? True, his grandfather’s passing had a great influence on him, but he had to get himself together - for his mother, for his daughter, for his lover. Yusuke hugged him close.
“It wasn’t easy for me either when I had you,” she said softly. “I was young and inexperienced, and it scared me too. You just don’t know everything, no one does. You’ll learn. And yes, as scary as it may sound Yuugi-kun, you will make mistakes. But the both of you can and will face whatever comes on your path.”
Yuugi nodded, slightly distracted. He remembered vividly how hard he had fought to find the name of his beloved. Atemu. It couldn’t be that his strength had left him!
“Allow yourself some time,” his mother encouraged him. “A baby is a really big change in your life, in anyone’s life. You have to adjust yourself to this new stage in your life, you have to get used to the change in situation. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”
He started to smile. She was right, of course. He couldn’t expect everything to stay the same now that a baby was around. Even though she wasn’t aware of it, Tzuziko had turned his whole life upside down. A new stage in his life, yes, the one of a parent - and he was going to be the best parent in the world!
“Thanks, kaa-san,” he said and pouted at how childish his voice sounded. Yusuke laughed softly and ruffled his hair once more before straightening herself.
“It’s time for dinner now, don’t you think?”
---------------------
Life went on. It hadn’t stood still for a moment, even though it felt like it ever since Yuugi had come home to find his mother crying at the kitchen table and Atemu standing behind her, pale and silent. The former Pharaoh had hold onto that silence as he had taken care of grandfather’s funeral and the execution of his estate. He was mostly occupied with the daily grind of running the Game Shop - most of the customers visited to pay their respects and talked about Mutou Suguroku, reminiscing the days when he’d been working at the store, with always a friendly word and advice for everyone.
Yuugi knew he should help out Atemu more, but his whole body felt strangely locked. Daily and practical things, like getting dressed, eating, taking a shower or doing dishes, went on auto- pilot, and he performed his chores mechanically. He had tried to sort his grandfather’s belongings, but it had been too emotional and his crying had set off the baby, who was too young to understand why her father was so sad. His feelings of guilt were tripled every time he saw Atemu busy with either the store or the legal paperwork. At this moment, Yuugi just couldn’t muster up the willpower and the energy to help him. He couldn’t even prioritize his study, he was lucky that he was in the middle of summer holiday, because he couldn’t care less about exams and colleges. A little bit of household chores and coddling with his daughter was all that Yuugi did. He wasn’t exactly proud of himself, but both Atemu and his mother respected his way of dealing with his grief - which made Yuugi feel even guiltier, as he wanted to be there for the others as well.
It was obvious to him that Atemu had great respect for grandfather and had difficulties dealing with the man’s passing. Even though the former Pharaoh didn’t show it, completely absorbed in all the things he had to do and his work at the Game Shop, he was more silent than usual, slightly absent-minded whenever Yuugi asked him something. He was afraid Atemu was suppressing his sadness and buried himself in all the work on purpose. He didn’t ignore their daughter, not at all, but he certainly didn’t allow himself any time to just sit down and…grieve.
This couldn’t go on, and Yuugi knew it. He decided to spend some time with Atemu instead of wallowing in his own misery. They weren’t a couple to suddenly stop talking to each other. He took a large tray with him, carrying two large mugs of tea, a plate with cookies and biscuits and the mail, and went to the Game Shop. It was fairly quiet; it usually was right after lunch hour, but it would pick up again in an hour or so. A lot of the customers were afraid that the Game Shop would close, even though Otogi’s game store was still in town for all their gaming needs.
“I brought you mail, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said as he pushed the door open. He closed the door again with his foot and walked over to the large counter. Atemu looked up from the paperwork and smiled as usual when he saw his aibou approach.
“Ah, I was just about to look for it myself,” he said. “I am expecting a few things.”
Atemu took the mail from the tray and leafed through the envelopes. He frowned when he didn’t recognize the handwriting on one. Opening it, he noticed it was a card from the United States, from Professor Hopkins and his granddaughter Rebecca, offering condolences. The professor was in bad health himself and hadn’t been able to attend the funeral, much to his regret. Rebecca stayed in touch by e-mail, modern technology making it much easier to keep contact between different continents. Yuugi was the one to handle the more personal correspondence. Atemu cared for it too, but Yuugi was much more spontaneous in his writing than he was.
Every other day an e-mail from Anzu in New York arrived, filled with tales and news about her life as a student at the Academy for Performing Arts. Honda mailed often the results from his race team and his sponsors. He was studying for his diplomas to set up shop himself, while Jounouchi still promised to have Tzuziko’s car built from scratch. Yuugi didn’t know what to do without his friends and their continuous text messages, e-mails and phone calls. He had hoped they would extend the same courtesy towards Atemu and vice versa, but he did notice a small distance between them. They referred to him with the more formal ‘-san’ honorific while almost no one of their group used an honorific for Yuugi. They involved Atemu whenever talking to Yuugi, but there was a slight distance noticeable, albeit not an awkward one. It was strange, because when they had shared bodies still, Atemu had always been ‘the other Yuugi’ and was called and treated as such. Yuugi assumed that now Atemu had his own body, his own personality surfaced more and more, showing that he wasn’t much alike Yuugi.
Atemu opened a few other envelopes, while Yuugi tried to gauge his reaction. He pulled out some newsletters from business associates, a few invoices and finally a letter from the bank, informing them of the total of grandfather’s savings and accounts.
“I am almost done with jii-chan’s arrangements,” Atemu said as he picked up his mug of tea, gently blowing at the hot liquid. Before he could continue, Yuugi put his hand on his, shaking his head. He didn’t want to talk about it right now. He wasn’t interested in finances or possessions; if it were up to him, his grandfather was still alive and around, and not some clinical, impersonal bank statement.
All his friends had attended the funeral, even Anzu, who had flown over from New York. Yuugi was so glad to see them all, and had made sure to stand around them and not in the middle of grandfather’s business associates he didn’t know. He had seen the looks given to him and Atemu, and he was fairly sure that their alikeness and the nature of their relationship had been more often a topic of conversation than grandfather’s passing. He hated it when that happened. Same sex relationships weren’t all that accepted in general, but a relationship with someone who was your spitting image…
“Tzuziko-chan is doing so great,” Yuugi said instead. “She says ‘Hikari Papa’ in the most adorable way!”
Atemu had missed Tzuziko’s first words, but he had caught her saying ‘Hikari Papa’ once in Yuugi’s arms, and a few days later ‘Yami Papa’ when he was holding her. He didn’t know where the girl got it from, but he was content with it. However, the former Pharaoh had refused to throw a party to celebrate Tzuziko's arrival; not because he didn’t want to, but because he thought it was inappropriate with grandfather’s recent passing. Yuugi knew that Atemu’s actual reason was that he didn’t want to show Tzuziko off as some kind of gift wrapped bundle of candy from a store. Instead, they had gone out to dinner with their best friends after meeting Tzuziko in the safety of their own place. The girl had reacted fairly well to all the visitors; compared to how scared she had been by the people surrounding her in the beginning, this was a very big step ahead for her.
“It is so nice to see her develop and grow,” Atemu said. “It is good of you that you are home to experience all of it so close, aibou.”
“Yeah, but I have to go back to university soon and make up for the tests I couldn’t take due to grandfather’s passing,” Yuugi said. He hadn’t touched his books in weeks.
“Can you not get some parental leave of absence?” Atemu’s eyes shimmered with mirth.
“Hey! If anyone should get a leave of absence, it should be you. You’ve been working so hard lately!”
“I am only doing what needs to be done,” Atemu said. Yuugi didn’t touch his own tea. Instead he took Atemu’s free hand in his own, caressing the ring on his finger.
“You’re doing much more than that,” Yuugi mumbled. “You’re a true Pharaoh, mou hitori no boku. You assume the position of leader when needed, and you rule fairly over us all.”
“Leader? Rule? I do hope you do not mean I am imposing on you and your mother?”
“Of course not, no, not at all, that’s not how I meant it,” Yuugi hurried to correct himself. He smiled. “It’s just typically you to step up to the plate, get an overview of the situation and indeed, do what needs to be done. Without complaining, without asking…without thinking about yourself.”
Atemu tilted his head a little, curiously looking at Yuugi.
“You look tired, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said, faintly blushing because he knew very well why the other was all but exhausted.
“I am fine, aibou,” was Atemu’s standard response, even though he put his tea mug down. Yuugi moved his hand further over Atemu’s, pressing a kiss to his fingers.
“Mou hitori no boku, I’m so sorry…”
“We talked about that before, aibou,” Atemu said. “You need time to deal with the loss, and no one can tell you how to do that. We also have our daughter to think of; two drastic changes in such short time. Loss and gain, it truly is a sign of how close life and death are to each other.”
“I’m just a little worried about you.”
“Come here.”
Yuugi was all but happy to cuddle with Atemu and all but jumped on his lap. There was no one in the store anyway, and the door bell would chime loud enough if anyone arrived. He kissed him on the neck, searching out his warmth, heaving a sigh of relief as he felt Atemu’s arms around him.
“I just feel so guilty, mou hitori no boku. I’m very happy to have Tzuziko-chan, yet I’m constantly asking if I do the right thing. I’m even doubting whether I should go back to the university or not, or just get a job to help out with the finances. I’m so very, very happy to have you…and I’m letting you down.”
“You are not,” Atemu tried to reassure him. He moved his hand up to ruffle Yuugi’s hair. “Aibou, having a child and losing a loved one in such short time puts a lot of stress on you. Like I said, two drastic changes… it is not easy, not even for me. I am also asking if I do the right thing, myself.”
“You don’t show it,” Yuugi pouted. “You have so much confidence.”
“Because I have you.” Atemu held the ring up in front of him and tapped his nose with it. “As long as we are together, we can face anything. We made a conscious decision to have a child, to start a family. We have a roof over our heads, we have loving friends…”
“We’re so very lucky.”
“We certainly are.”
Yuugi didn’t add to that, but kissed Atemu on the neck again, working his way slowly up to his ear. His hand was on Atemu’s chest, fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt.
“I was wondering, though…was there any news of my father?”
“What brings this up, aibou?” Atemu sounded surprised, and with good reason. Yuugi barely mentioned his father. Atemu hadn’t even met him, as he was always away on business trips.
“I… I don’t know,” Yuugi said. He was surprised by his own words. “It’s just that.. well, even professor Hopkins with his bad health and all across the ocean takes the effort to send a card, and my own father just…doesn’t call, doesn’t show any sign of life. He’s become a grandfather and he just doesn’t care.”
“We do not know that,” Atemu said, but his voice betrayed his disbelief. From the very few times Yuugi’s father had come up in discussion, Atemu had never made a secret of his disdain for the man. “We have to give him the benefit of the doubt, aibou.”
“Yes, you’re right,” Yuugi answered, sullen. He felt childish. It looked like almost everyone was a mature, responsible adult but him. “Why don’t you close up shop and we spend the afternoon with Tzuziko-chan?”
“That sounds lovely, aibou,” Atemu said, and he pressed his lips on Yuugi’s. “I will close earlier, but not for the entire afternoon. We need the income.”
Yuugi was disappointed, but understood nonetheless. He was about to say something when the door bell chimed loudly; he quickly left Atemu’s lap and grabbed the cup of tea and held it in front of him, as if he wanted to act completely innocent. The customer greeted them and started browsing the card games. Atemu hid a small laugh behind his hand.
--------------------------
On a Thursday afternoon, Yuugi was folding the laundry with his mother. He was uncharacteristically silent - only one more week before he had to return to the university. It bothered and frightened him. His summer break was almost over, and he had to make up for the exams he missed. His counsellor had been lenient enough to allow him to take his exams at a later date, but Yuugi’s concentration had been far off the scale. He couldn’t waste this chance! The university was prepared to make an exception for him, he couldn’t afford to screw it up.
“I think there’s something on Atemu-san’s mind that he finds difficult to share with you, Yuugi-kun,” his mother said suddenly, putting another towel to an already impressive stack. The house was fairly quiet, as Atemu was at work in the Game Shop and Tzuziko was enjoying her afternoon nap.
“Mou hitori no boku knows he can discuss anything with me,” Yuugi responded. Yusuke nodded and continued folding bed sheets.
“Of course he knows, but he doesn’t want to bother you.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Yuugi-kun, you know it yourself, deep down in your heart,” she said. “You took a serious blow, and you have been drained of your energy ever since. I know what he meant to you, Yuugi-kun. It’s times like these that I wish your father.. my own husband.. would come home and take some of our burdens away.”
Yuugi’s hands rested on the linens. “Our burdens,” he repeated, softly. “All these burdens, and I’m not even helping out.”
“That’s not what I meant, dear,” Yusuke said. “No one blames you. I’m just afraid you close yourself off a little too much. We have a lot to think about, and we need each other.”
“Yes, I know… the Game Shop, money… maybe I should just get a job,” he said. He had considered quitting university, but hadn’t worked up enough courage to discuss it with Atemu. The former Pharaoh was very high-strung on good education, and he wouldn’t agree with Yuugi giving up on his studies, even if it was temporary.
“I think Atemu-san wants you to finish your studies,” Yusuke said out loud what he was thinking, “And I want you to finish too - I want to see my son graduate! You’re much more valuable for a job if you have a diploma!”
“Kaa-san,” Yuugi rolled his eyes and she looked at him sternly. He blushed. He knew how his mother insisted on education - she had found a good partner in Atemu concerning that point of discussion - she had lectured him enough about it when he was still going to Domino High. She even resorted to whacking him with a ladle to get his attention instead of ‘wasting time playing card games’.
“I’ll talk to mou hitori no boku about it,” he said, feeling bad nonetheless. What could Atemu be keeping from him?
-----------------------
He woke up in the middle of the night and immediately realized that he was alone in the bed - Atemu always had his arms around him, and the lack of warmth and the reassurance of protection made him feel cold and lonely. It wasn’t the first time that he had been alone in the bed; they had taken turns at going out at night when Tzuziko needed them. The baby had developed a good, solid sleeping schedule and crying at night had become a rarity. As it was, Yuugi heard gentle footsteps, announcing Atemu’s return.
Yuugi looked to his right, up to the large ceiling window. When Atemu had moved in, they had turned Yuugi’s bedroom into the master bedroom. They had purchased a large bed, to their mutual pleasure. Yuugi had to sacrifice his desk in order to make room. If he wanted to study, he had to take his books down to either the storage room when it wasn’t too cold (it didn’t have any heating) or to the extremely small office wedged between the storage room and the Game Shop (it was the size of a shoebox). Sometimes he studied at the kitchen table; but that was often more distracting than that actual studying happened.
The door to the room went open and Atemu sneaked in, careful as not to make any sound. Yuugi smiled when he felt the familiar shift in weight on the bed and he rolled towards him, his fingers poking at Atemu’s chest. He gasped, not expecting Yuugi to be awake.
“Where have you been, mister?”
“Did I wake you, aibou?”
“No, not at all. I didn’t even hear her crying?”
“A bad dream, perhaps,” Atemu said and he lied down, relaxing into the pillows. “She did not need a new diaper and she refused to eat. I stayed with her until she was calm enough to fall asleep again.”
“Poor little thing,” Yuugi said.
“Yes, at least we can talk if we had a bad dream,” Atemu said. “But she is safe in her bed, and we are around to comfort her in bad times.”
He fell silent and for a moment Yuugi thought that Atemu had fallen asleep too; he was a notorious light sleeper; quick to wake up but also quickly to doze off again.
“Mou hitori no boku,” he said. He tapped him on the shoulder. Atemu always wore the bottom part of their pyjamas, Yuugi the top. He liked the way the moon shone upon his lover’s tan chest.
“Yes, aibou?”
Gods, it was so good to hear his deep voice in the night. Just the reassurance that he was here, right here in the bed with him…
“I want to ask you something. Is there something you want to talk to me about?”
He couldn’t see it, but he could imagine Atemu pursing his lips.
“Why is that, aibou?”
“Well, maybe there’s something on your mind…you’ve been quite silent lately.”
“I have been quite busy as of late,” Atemu admitted, without any accusation in his voice.
“Silent, not busy.” Yuugi cuddled up to him and put his arms around him. He didn’t have to wait for long to feel Atemu’s arms around his own body. Content, he snuggled even closer. “What’s on your mind?”
“I do not think now is the time to talk about it. Go back to sleep, my love.”
“So there is something on your mind.”
He could hear Atemu chuckle, and heaved a sigh of contentment as warm lips touched his skin.
“It has to do something with jii-chan’s estate, right?”
Another kiss, another hug. Who would’ve thought that Atemu of all people was so touchy-feely behind closed doors? In public, he didn’t even hold hands, unless they were among friends; but in the privacy of their own home, Yuugi revelled in the attention he received from the former Pharaoh, especially in moments like these.
“You should focus on your studies,” Atemu said, “anything else can wait.”
It was late, and maybe this wasn’t indeed the best of moments to start talking about what was on his mind. Yuugi made a mental note to ask Atemu again later. He was right; university was just another weekend away, and he was going to be busy enough as it was. It scared and excited him at the same time.
“Mou hitori no boku?”
“Yes, aibou?”
“Did I already tell you today how much I love you?”
“About five times.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
------------------------------
Yuugi had feared that going back to university would be tough on him. To his own amazement, he found himself adjusted after one week already. The semester started up again and he settled into his old routine without a hitch. It was tough to combine the extra study hours for his exams with his regular classes, but after he had cleared that problem, he slid back into the daily grind of life seamlessly.
Weekly lunch with Jounouchi at Fujikawa’s had become a tradition. Honda joined in if he could find the time in his schedule. Otogi sometimes joined them too, if he couldn’t make it for his usual lunch with Yuugi on Tuesdays. He was a year Yuugi’s senior and his workload had doubled. Combined with all his work for his Black Crown game store, it left him little time to actually enjoy lunch, and he was complaining about feeling suffocated. As always, he felt much better after lunch with his friends; they excelled at cheering each other up.
“You look happier, Yuugi,” Jounouchi said as he dug into his dish. Fujikawa’s was one of the few places that didn’t mind seeing their guests in work overalls. “Things are picking up for you again, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” Yuugi beamed at him. “I’m so busy with university, home and Tzuziko-chan that I barely have any time left to think about bad things.”
“Everyone has his own way of dealing with grief, Yuugi,” Honda said. It was one of those rare occasions that he joined them for lunch. It was really too bad that their schedules were so different, unlike the time at Domino High when they shared all their classes. It was the price to pay for growing into adulthood, Yuugi presumed. He was grateful hat they still were friends; so many contacts died down or got lost because of people growing up… and apart.
Honda waved around with his chopsticks. “No one can tell you how to deal with it.”
“Come to think of it,” Yuugi stared into his soup, “I don’t think I’ve seen mou hitori no boku really grieve.”
“Yeah, he’d be the one to bottle it all up.” Jounouchi sipped his drink. He looked at Yuugi as if he wanted to examine him. “Don’t forget, he’s the one at home, dealing with your grandfather’s estate. You get out of the house daily, that’s why you can deal with it better.”
Jounouchi might put it a little crudely, but Yuugi agreed with him. He was convinced that staying at home during the summer break had confronted him again and again with his grandfather’s passing. Now that he was at the university and back to his old routine, he found himself able to take a little distance from it. Not that he wanted to forget about his grandfather, but it strangely put things more into perspective.
“I think mou hitori no boku isn’t telling me something either.”
“What do you mean?” Honda arched an eyebrow. “You seem like the kind of couple that tells each other everything, and I mean everything.”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t want me to bother with it, because I needed so much time to deal with jii-chan’s passing…”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jounouchi said. “You can’t put a timestamp on grieving.”
“Yeah, I know. But I want him to confide in me, and I have the feeling he…I don’t know how to say it. I want to be there for him as he is for me, and if he doesn’t confide in me…”
“I’m sure he has every bit of faith and confidence in you,” Honda said. “Just as you have faith and confidence in him. He’ll talk when he wants to talk.”
Yuugi smiled at Honda, thankful for his friend’s advice - even though he couldn’t do much with it. They didn’t know Atemu as well as he did, and he was afraid the former Pharaoh was going to keep to himself and bother himself only with it, instead of speaking up. He always revelled in Atemu’s protection…but what if that protection was so rigid that the other couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t, speak his mind? They were adults, parents. They were responsible for their daughter, for each other, for their relationship. It didn’t work out if they didn’t talk. They had never followed up on that one talk they had in bed; Yuugi because he was too busy with university, Atemu because he didn’t want to bother Yuugi. This has got to change.
With a determined look on his face, Yuugi finished his soup, meanwhile listening to his friends talking about races, cars and motorcycles.
-------------------
He was pleasantly surprised to see the Game Shop closed, even though for some reason Atemu was quicker to close the Game Shop earlier on a Wednesday afternoon than on any other day. Taking the stairs up, he was endeared to find Atemu in the living room, on the floor with Tzuziko and a mountain of building blocks. It was actually quite fun to see him holding a bright, almost fluorescent block and encouraging Tzuziko to build a tower with it. The baby was frowning, taking her task very seriously; she simply rejected the block when it wasn’t good or colorful enough in her eyes.
Yuugi heard Atemu talking, but didn’t quite understand what he was saying…until it dawned to him that Atemu was teaching Tzuziko the Ancient Egyptian alphabet with the blocks he was giving to her.
“Mou hitori no boku,” he laughed as he picked up Tzuziko to cuddle her, “don’t you think she’s a little too young for that?”
“Hikari papa,” the girl said, followed by a perfect rendition of at least the first six vowels of the complicated alphabet.
“Wow, she’s good.”
Atemu collected the blocks and dumped them in a large box to keep them neat and tidy. “I do think one can not start early enough with education.”
Yuugi rolled his eyes again, but didn’t comment. He looked at his daughter. After her initial cry of joy at seeing her father, she fell silent again. Tzuziko was silent most of the time. Her eyes showed what she had been through, and it probably would never go away. The intensity, the seriousness she approached life with was something that was entirely characteristic for her, and Yuugi didn’t think he could change that. Why would he? Tzuziko didn’t deserve to be a victim, or to be victimized. Her bad start shouldn’t hamper her growth and development, and Yuugi was here with Atemu to make sure she was going to have the best life possible.
“I’ll bring Tzuziko-chan to bed, and then we’ll have some coffee together,” he said and held the baby on his arm. She immediately stretched her arms towards Atemu.
“No Hikari papa,” she said. “Yami papa bisou!”
“Don’t tell me, you’ve been teaching her French too?”
Atemu coughed. “Just a little.”
Shaking his head but still amused, Yuugi brought Tzuziko to bed, taking his time to tuck her in before returning to the living room. Atemu was gone. Confused, Yuugi was about to go look for him when he returned, with a bundle of paperwork in his arms.
“Mou hitori no boku? We were going to have some coffee?”
“I decided to close up for the rest of the afternoon so I can catch up with all of this,” Atemu said as he put the paperwork on the table. “I really need to check these invoices…”
Yuugi shook his head. Not now.
“Sit down, mou hitori no boku. I want to talk to you about something.”
“I am sorry aibou, but if I do not check these papers I…”
“Sit down, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said and startled himself with the commanding tone of his voice. He couldn’t help but laugh when he saw Atemu’s indignant expression, but he did sit down.
“You should consider a career in the military,” Atemu pouted. Yuugi blushed faintly and took a seat next to Atemu, but not before he shoved the paperwork to the other corner of the table so they couldn’t get distracted by it.
“I want you to tell me what’s on your mind.” Yuugi lifted up his finger and put it on Atemu’s lips when the other was taking a breath, probably to protest. “I want you to tell what it is, if it has to do with jii-chan’s estate or not, I can take it. I want to know, mou hitori no boku. I don’t want anything to stand between us. You can tell me, whatever it is.”
“Are you sure?” Atemu said. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and suddenly Yuugi had to swallow. Despite his tough words, he didn’t know if he was really prepared to hear what Atemu had to say. The former Pharaoh could be so…forceful sometimes. He searched out his hand, and Atemu was quick to put his other hand on his.
“All right, aibou. It is…I am not sure if I want to continue the game store as it is, aibou. I...I am not exactly comfortable with working as a store clerk.”
In a flash, Yuugi recalled the short talk he’d had with his grandfather. The elderly man, already bedridden, had said that he didn’t expect the Game Shop to be a Game Shop forever. He wanted Yuugi and Atemu, who he obviously fully respected as his grandson’s life partner, to do what they wanted, and not to continue the Game Shop out of some kind of misplaced feelings of tradition. He had told Yuugi that he didn’t see Atemu as a store clerk for the rest of his life, and he didn’t want to saddle either one of them with the feeling that they were obliged to continue the Game Shop.
“You have your study to focus on for at least three more years,” Atemu continued. “I can take care of Tzuziko and work at home. I was thinking of keeping the store though, but with a different purpose - not a Game Shop, but an antiquary… you know, oddities, rare book prints, exclusive statues, those kinds of things.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Yuugi said without one second of hesitation.
Atemu seemed to be shocked, surprised and relieved at the same time. He squeezed Yuugi’s hand.
“Do you really think so, aibou?”
“Was that what was bothering you?” Yuugi asked, and he stroked Atemu’s hair. His fingers dipped a little lower, touching his ear shell. A golden earring was clipped to it, as he was slowly saving up to buy jewellery similar to his days as a Pharaoh. Gold looked extremely good on him…
Atemu nodded. Yuugi leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him in a bear-like hug.
“Mou hitori no boku, I’m so glad you told me this! I didn’t know… I’m so sorry! I should’ve known, I should’ve talked to you sooner…”
“I was not sure how to bring this up to you, aibou,” Atemu said, his eyes their usual size now that he felt relieved. “I thought you wanted to keep everything in its old state. The Game Shop is jii-chan’s legacy after all. You were so sad, aibou, after his passing, and it hurt me so much that I could not take that pain away from you.”
“Oh, mou hitori no boku, you kept this all to yourself, all alone. What a burden it had to be! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I could not find the right opportunity to talk about it, aibou. With all the changes, the baby, jii-chan, your sadness, my sadness…”
“I should’ve known,” Yuugi said, hugging him even tighter. “I should’ve noticed that you weren’t feeling really happy. You got all this responsibility shoved at you and you took it, because you’re a true and real Pharaoh.”
“Aibou… I need air.”
“Ah… right.” Yuugi loosened his grip, but didn’t pull away from Atemu completely. He could see how the other was relieved, more relaxed. “I’m sorry, mou hitori no boku. It wasn’t fair that you got all this thrown into your lap. You did your best to keep the store open and the household going, and I can’t thank you enough for that. If it weren’t for you, we would’ve completely crumbled and crashed.”
Atemu nodded. “A lot had to be done,” he said, “and a lot needed to be done. We are a very rich family, aibou, but not in the financial sense. That was why I had to keep the store open.”
“Is it that bad?” Yuugi felt sad. “I can look for a job and keep the university on hold…”
“No, no studies on hold,” Atemu said sternly. He put his free hand on Yuugi’s cheek, stroking the skin. He heaved a small sigh. “I will be happy to hold the store open and earn us a regular income for as long as you need to study.”
“That’s not true, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi said. “What did we just talk about? I can’t expect you to do work you’re not really happy with for another three years!”
“If it has to be done…”
“No,” Yuugi interrupted him. “I want you to be happy. I don’t want you to sacrifice three years to do this all for me.”
Atemu opened his mouth again to protest, but Yuugi cut him short once more.
“No, mou hitori no boku. I want all of us to be happy. I’m very sure you can turn the Game Shop into a nice antiquary, and build up a new circle of customers. We might have to scrape by, but as long as we can give our daughter what she needs and we can afford the house, the university, food and clothes.. well, uhm… I’m sure we’ll manage to survive.”
“We can manage that,” Atemu answered dryly. “If we cut those terribly expensive lunches at Fujikawa’s.”
“Wheat? But- but…”
“Kidding, just kidding, aibou.”
“That’s just cruel, mou hitori no boku.”
“I am sorry aibou, that was not my intention.”
“You fall for everything, as long as I say it, don’t you?”
“What?”
“Never mind. Kiss me!”
Atemu was happy to comply, and they kissed. Yuugi felt himself all but melt into the loving kiss, once more grateful that the Gods had granted Atemu to be on this Earth, restoring his body and his life. He knew he couldn’t be a Pharaoh in this lifetime, but Yuugi admired his strength to adapt and adjust himself. Dealing in antiquities was something cut out for him, and as he worked from home, he could be around Tzuziko and Yusuke to keep an eye on everything. It was a very reassuring thought, and a lifestyle that both could be content with.
Yuugi knew he had some tough years ahead of him, but one day he would come home with his degree and find a good job to support his family properly. Until then, they had time enough to settle into their new lives, as parents, as lovers, as partners.
“You have to promise me one thing though, mou hitori no boku,” Yuugi broke up the kiss.
“What is that, aibou?”
“I want jii-chan’s room to stay the same for now,” Yuugi said. “No changes.”
“I was not planning to…”
“I know. But we don’t have a guest room any more, and when we’re going to have a second child sooner or later, we won’t have any other room for the new baby but jii-chan’s. For now, let’s just leave it, okay?”
Atemu nodded. “As you wish, aibou.” He kissed him again. “Such sadness.”
“I miss him.”
“I miss him too, aibou.”
Another kiss, a deep, passionate kiss. Yuugi revelled in Atemu’s presence, enjoying his warmth and protection. He felt safe with him, respected and appreciated. There was no other person he could ever be more in love with than his own other self, and he couldn’t care less what people thought about it. Atemu was the only one to understand him, to give him this much room, to connect to him on this kind of level.
He didn’t feel sad anymore. He had a wonderful partner, a loving mother and a beautiful baby girl in his life. Jii-chan was still a part of that, even if he wasn’t physically around. He would always be a part of this family.