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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Fanfiction · #1147356
It hurts when you do that to yourself, Kaiba-kun. So please stop. And try your best.
By: Michiro-Chan
Title: "Don't Leave Me Behind"

A/N: Don't own Yuugiou.

Everything surrounded by * is the song featured by Stevie Nicks, "Has Anyone Written Anything For You?"

~*~*~

Thunder and a trouncing downpour brewed outside.

*Has anyone ever written anything for you?*

A sharp, petrified sound pierced the void of silence--reaching Seto’s eardrums markedly with every enunciation in a peculiar rhythm. “Nii-sama--I’m begging; I’ll do anything--please, just eat. Eat something…but, please--” Choked sobs and hiccoughs could be narrowly heeded. “--don’t starve yourself. Don’t do this anymore; you don’t have to!” The diminutive youth sank to his knees at this point and masked his teary expression within quavering hands, as he managed to utter his last sentences repeatedly between erratic patterns of heavy wailing or groaning. “You can’t die--I wo…won’t let you, dammit--! I c--c--can’t let you die in shame…you can’t leave me now!” The hoarse, yet clearly pre-pubescent voice grew louder in a mesh of unseen emotion, with what seemed to now morph into a forced rage that Mokuba feared would all be doomed to failure.

The russet-haired adolescent gazed apathetically toward the grim view of what looked to be his brother, twisted and trembling on the carpeted flooring of his roomy den. An affectionate hand extended out to its lone purpose in life, and perched its raw, willowy fingertips onto the boy’s quivering head. Wearily tempting itself to wander to the piteous, childish face, it--instead--slowly brought a circular, gentle motion throughout the forest-like, gorgeous tresses of dark, clumped and parted hair, and continued doing so reassuringly. “Mokuba…I can’t think of a simple way to explain it, but--I can’t. I can’t.”

*In all your darkest hours, have you ever heard me sing?
Listen to me now… you know I’d rather be alone,
Than be without you, don’t you know?*

Olive-toned flesh grasped with colorless, bony knuckles onto the sable mane that curled in those long, ashy fingers. The tiny fist drew its onlooker’s palm away from the mounds of enweaved, divine strands of long hair and reared his terrified façade, now knotted into a look in question of Seto’s pride.

“If you wanted to live, you wouldn’t be sayin’ that. If you weren’t so miserable, death would’ve never even crossed your mind. You’d never doubt your own power--you’d be strong enough to get through this.” Mokuba’s limp clench on Seto’s hand suddenly tightened. “We’ve been through harder times than this, and I always pulled through ‘cuz of you. ‘Cuz of you…I looked up to you, and I always stayed strong ‘cause of your inspiration. You taught me ‘bout willpower, an’ how it never failed unless ya stopped believin’ in yourself. You protected me. You held my hand when times got rough. Ya taught me about determination, drive and strength of mind, an’ brought us to where we are today. Don’tchya see it? You can’t go without a try this time. You always had full confidence you’d overcome the hard times, no matter what price of work ya had to do to get whatchya wanted--you never gave up to the enemy.”

The middle-schooler’s broad, glimmering eyes opened again, avid as ever, toward the bleary vision of his sibling’s astounded, pale complexion. “I’m not sure if you could keep living with yourself if I ever died, but--but if you died…I…I WOULD NEVER, EVER WANT TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU! SO DON’T LET ME DOWN, NII-SAMA! DON’T LEAVE ME YET! Don’t--do--don’t give up. Nii-sama, ya can’t leave me just yet. I still gotta’ learn a lot from my big brother--my guardian angel.

*Has anyone ever given anything to you?
In your darkest hour, did you ever give it back?
Well, I have-I have given back to you,
And if it’s all I have left, then this is…your song.*

“I don’t wantchya to die ‘cuz you were sick of life and just gave up. I want you to die with faith you lived life out bein' the best that ya could be. I love you too much to let this go…” The stiff grasp that had whitened Seto’s joints now steadily relaxed and the warm clasp of the smaller hand slithered down toward their fingertips.

“Mokuba. You have to understand that I don’t want to fight it. I haven’t given up; I’ve actually created a purpose to life. Anorexia calms me, Mokuba. When I see myself outdoing everybody in this field, I feel I have complete control over my most shameful desires. Living in a society where I can starve when I have more than plenty--a thirst in pouring rain. Anorexia nervosa is a sickness that affects only the most self-controlled, high achieving, and devoted people, Mokuba. It’s not easy to keep up and needs a huge amount of self-restraint. Finally getting the disorder--it’s almost a source of pride. I feel better than people who only eat on a whim. Though it’s odd…your self-discipline slowly becomes uncontrolled over time. Instead of being a critically overweight anyone who has trouble keeping themselves from eating too much, you become a perilously underweight someone who has to be strained by force to eat. Ironic.”

His expression grew irritated. “I’ve spent my whole childhood living as a pawn--a marionette--pushed under the thumb of a destructive tyrant, praying for love and support--always wanting a new life for the both of us. No one gave this to me as a reward; I earned it all myself. I went at any measure to get it--and in this cutthroat industry of survival of the fittest, I came on top. Even though everyone turned their backs on me, showed no care and offered no help to this poor little orphan, I did the same, and succeeded a hundredfold of what they ever could. Now I’m telling the world, ‘I’m now in control of my future and you’re my enemy. I’m in control of my fate even if the feat is starving to death.’”

Mokuba’s brow quivered as Seto spoke so frankly about such an unsettling affair he usually loathed to openly discuss.

“You know I have a high tolerance for pain, Mokuba--my willpower hasn’t gone away, it’s only strengthened.” His head twisted toward the elaborately constructed windowpane. The rain was pouring harder. “Anorexia is a metaphor.”

The raven-haired pre-adolescent crumpled into tears again and accompanying a shriek, he clutched two fistfuls of his messy ebony locks and wailed out endlessly. “Listen to yourself talking, Seto! Listen for just a few sentences and you’d see how wrong--!”

*And the rain comes down…there’s no pain and there’s no doubt,
It was easy to say--I believed in you everyday.*

Vaguely skeptical at the absence of Mokuba’s deferential “nii-sama,” the teen immediately tried to stop continuation of the conversation. “Mokuba, that’s enough.” His tone was slightly wavering yet firm, but not enough to keep Mokuba from going on.

“This disease’s brain-washed you into thinkin’ it’s gonna help you, but it’s only gonna help you die--it’s making you crabby, tired, obsessed with losing weight, an’ it’s made you so sad…” He paused to draw in a shaky breath. “Nii-sama, you’re gettin’ too weak to carry on all through the day anymore, and ya spend everyday hungry, too scared to eat 'cuz of what could happen to all your hard work--but you know you’re miserable. Face it Seto, you're not in control of your life anymore, you’re just a slave to your illness--!”

The elder Kaiba barred his teeth. “Mokuba, I’m ordering you to--”

“NO! I WON’T STOP! NOT THIS TIME! THESE LIES ARE GONNA COST YOU YOUR LIFE, SETO! I WON’T LETCHYA DO IT! NO!” His frail body swayed in exhaustion as he screamed, nearly collapsing onto the ground, only hands managing to support his shuddering trunk. Mokuba wasn’t gazing into his brother’s eyes anymore. His eyes strayed only toward the floor… “It hurts when I hafta watch you push food around your plate and not eat any of it when I know you’re starving. It’s even worse to watch you getting skinnier and skinnier--but, I know I can’t make you eat. It’s been a problem with ya ever since Gouzaburou died. Before, he starved you, and then when he left…you--you just worked for hours and starved yourself. You knew you were getting too skinny, Seto. The family doctor already told you you needed to eat more.”

*If not for me then, do it for the world…*

The child’s tone was scolding. Mokuba’s waterlogged eyes now glistened in malice as he turned his head back up. “At first, I thought it was just the strange way you dealt with depression. But finally realizing it was this all along…anorexia isn’t yer friend, Seto. It could be your killer. You of all people would know that. I’ve watched you for too long doin’ this to yourself--and I’ve waited too long to say something. So tell me why, Seto? WHY?! You’re not eating because you actually need to ‘finish your work’ and put your health before it? D’you get pleasure out of watching yourself die? Or 'cuz you hate yourself like some teenage girl?! Tell me why you’re so--”

His nostrils nearly flared. “Mokuba, I said that was enough.”

At that baritone, the younger Kaiba quickly stopped. He knew his brother wasn’t being dismissive with those words anymore. The room was unspoken once again, with an exception of Mokuba’s rasping sobs.

*Has anyone ever written anything for you?*

The shuffling of Mokuba’s limbs could be heard beneath him. “I…I’m sorry, nii-sama. It’s just that--mother gave up her life for me, and--” Tears brimmed upon his shaky lashes. “When it ruined your life, I…I promised myself I would owe it to you, to mom, and to dad I wouldn’t take this for granted. Now that you’re putting your life on the line because of some silly disease--I think I need to protect you this time. I know mom wouldn’t want you to do this. She--she wouldn’t want this to happen. She would want you to be happy. And after all these years, I haven’t been helping you like I should. Like…you always have.

*And in your darkest sorrows, did you ever hear me sing?
Listen to me now…you know I’d rather be alone,
Than be without you, don’t you know?*

“I know how much you hate bein' looked down on. And I know that you’ll go at anything to prove that you’re in control even if it means hurting yourself. It’s what you’ve been doing for almost all your life.”

He smiled slightly. “Now that I’ve finally gotten the courage to say this…you can hide your feelings, nii-sama. It’s okay. You don’t hafta’ talk about Gouzaburou or the orphanage with me--and pretend like it doesn’t bother you. But this--this house, this lifestyle we have is a lucky thing. You worked hard for it, but we wouldn’t’ve ever had this if it weren’t for all the chances you got. Ya earned it, yeah, no doubt. You lived through hell just for me. But now, you’re taking this for granted. Your pride’s been getting in the way of your sense of reality.”

Mokuba could narrowly detect an uneasy breath escape his brother’s lips. “I won’t ever give up on you, nii-sama. I’d wait forever for you if I had to. So I’m going to do whatever I can to make you understand that life isn’t so bad sometimes. Mother said that God has a plan for everyone. You may not understand why He gave you pain, but you can always be sure that God has a reason for everything He does, even when it seems bad…Seto, I don’t want ya to think that the world turned its back on you. I’m still here…and--and I care about you. A lot. And I’m sure that mom and dad are watching us both from heaven. So, promise me you’ll try to fight it. Promise me you’ll at least try.”

*So, if not for me then, do it for yourself.
If not for me then, do it for the world…*

He clasped his elder sibling’s shoulders within a firm embrace and jerked with his struggled back tears. The boy thickly inhaled again. “Promise me you’ll try, nii-sama.” It was a whisper barely above the silence, smothered in Mokuba’s throaty cries. “Onegaishimasu…zutto isshou ni itai yo?”

‘Throw away all of this for you…? Could it really be worth it?’

The teen’s eyes narrowed in reflection, though he promptly abandoned his hesitation and remembered his little brother’s sake.

“Yakosoku suru, Mokuba. Soshite, ore no nagareboshi--” Seto gathered Mokuba within a returning grasp and caressed his brother’s head once more. “Ore no kidou wo terashite kudasai, Mokuba…anata no hikari wo misete.”

“I’ll--I’ll do my best if you do, nii-sama.” The child’s sodden cheek leaned into Seto’s warm bosom.

*Poet…priest of nothing…
Legend.*

In subtle breach of his coldness before, he managed to cast his lips into a paradoxical, genuine smile he seldom revealed. “Of course, Mokuba.”

At that moment, Mokuba somehow knew his brother would eventually recover with time.

*Poet…priest of nothing…
Legend.*

~Owari~
© Copyright 2006 Michiro (michiro-chan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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