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The soft fabric of the dress shirt crushed beneath Seto's hand as he once again began pacing the length of his bedroom. This was completely inane. He was Seto Kaiba, damn it, That Bastard Seto if you had something he wanted. I'm going to Tristan's. Seto's leg began to jitter as his foot tapped against the floor. He was ruthlessness personified when closing a deal. Relentlessly calculating when seeking a goal. I'm going to Tristan's. The shirt twisted and pulled as his fingers closed and relaxed spasmodically. He made and broke alliances with an ease small countries would envy. People feared and respected his name. He did not stand in front of his closet choosing what to wear like a teenage virgin on a first date. I'm. Going. To. Tristan's. With a growl of frustration, he flung the shirt across the room. Stalking toward the closet, Seto grabbed the first thick sweater that came to his hands and slid it over his head before going outside. The cold air stung painfully as he reached the tree. The bare branches danced crazily in the harsh winter wind, but standing with his back against the trunk Seto created his own lee around himself through will alone. The only thing that can touch you is what you allow to touch you. "Merry Christmas," he whispered to the spirit living there. "I'm being stupid." He swallowed thickly, nearly overcome with the sudden ache of longing for *physical*, to once again see Blue Eyes filling this inadequate ground. "But, he invited me. Me." Seto chuckled darkly. He shamelessly manipulated other people's reactions through symbolism every day of his life and thus was all too aware when he was bound by his own. "He wants me to see him. And God help me, I'm going." With the ghost of intense blue eyes regarding him, Seto realized, as he had so often in the past standing in this very spot, that he'd already provided his own answer. The only thing that can touch you is what you allow to touch you. And he had chosen to allow Tristan to touch him and to touch in return, hadn't he? And that... was good. More than good. Raising a numbed hand in a farewell gesture to the once-again-empty night, Seto turned to go back inside with a smile. This time he crossed the room calmly, drawing off the heavy cable v-neck before choosing a burnt gold silk shirt. He buttoned it quickly before pulling back on the dark blue sweater and walking over to the tastefully wrapped present on the dresser. Seto stood looking at the thin flat package a long, very long, moment. What if he doesn't like it? Or worse, if it's wrong and he won't tell me? Just opens it up and smiles and pretends to like it while wondering how the hell he'll ever get rid of it... He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Then you will allow it to touch you, won't you Oh Great Seto Kaiba, he thought with reflexive derision. Reaching out deliberately, he picked up the package and went downstairs. He was going to Tristan's.Back to Sorchafyre's Work E-mail the Author Home |
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