Categories > Anime/Manga > Yu-Gi-Oh! > [ Bend and Not Break ] [ A Seto Kaiba Story ]
The next day, you're stuck closing shop again. You check to see if everything is in place. The dishes are set neatly in piles of twelve, as they normally are, and apart from the subtle scent of coffee beans, and vanilla, the cafe is in tip-top shape. Your car was promptly returned at the brink of dawn, and cleaning off a small spot of dirt from the shiny black beauty, you unlock the doors, and plop into the seat, carefully starting the engine. You shift gears, and with almost too much caution, you pull out of the parking spot, and speed off into the distance, yearning for a warm meal, and a good movie.
You trudge up the thick cement steps of your apartment complex, and forage through your purse for your keys, which you stupidly placed in some unknown crevice after locking your car. After the short triumphant finding, you unlock your apartment door, only to hear a boyish voice call your name from down the stairs.
"____! Wait!"
"Ugh...not again..." you grouse, as you watch Jason leap up the stairs. You eye him with disdain, as he hands you a bouquet of roses, with a bright smile. "Jason...what are you doing here?"
"I figured you'd forget about calling me today, so I thought I'd surprise you." He says, kissing you softly on the forehead.
"Okay, you know what? Fine. Come in. In fact, I'll even make you dinner." You say, frustrated with him. If you can't get rid of him, you might as well live with him.
You let him in, and with an insipid sigh, you set the flowers on the kitchen table, before you wash your hands to begin cooking for one more unplanned person. "Why are you here?"
"I miss you." He walks behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "It's been a long time since we've eaten dinner together, or talked, or--"
"Shh." You say, as you place a pot full of uncooked pasta and water on the stove. You turn around to face him, and ache to ask him something, as you look into his clear, viridian green eyes, the ones you fell for years ago. He's still every bit as charming as he was the day you met him. "Jason..." You trail off, and brush a few stray locks of his sandy brown hair away from his eyes. "Why do you do this to me?"
"Do what? I said I was sorry...I don't know what more I can do...I just want one more chance. Please, ____..." He leans in to kiss you, and for a few seconds, you move in closer, longing to feel his lips against yours.
The pot on the stove hisses, as if to warn you, and you quickly snap back to your normal, prudent self. You break away from him, and go to the stove, to stir the pasta, and then drain it. The steam from the hot pasta billows and ascends towards the ceiling, and you go to the fridge to warm up some leftover chicken from the night before. He watches you intently, his eyes welded on every movement you make. He does this every time he wants something, but you're not giving it to him. You dice the meat up into chunks, and fry it along with seasoning and a few vegetables, with a lackadaisical attitude. He senses this, but doesn't say a word. He doesn't dare.
A few minutes later, you rinse the pasta once more, and gruffly hand him some dishes, and eating utensils. "Make yourself useful. Set the table." You tell him, with an uninterested tone. He does as you say without question, and you bring the quickly prepared meal to the table, discreetly giving him his food first, and then adding your helping to your empty plate.
"Thanks..." He looks at you meekly, and you cross your legs, and rest your head on your hand, while your arm is placed on the table, in boredom, and dissatisfaction. Your powerful silence has rendered him speechless, and inside, you smile. Round one goes to you.
"So...how do you like it?" You ask him, sarcastically, as he eats gently, like you've poisoned his food.
He twirls some pasta around his fork. "It's great, as always." He chases a piece of chicken around his plate with his fork.
"Now...about that second chance..." You start off, after a small sip of wine. As if frozen in time, he stops what he's doing, and his head snaps up to look at you. His eyes gaze into yours, and you continue. "I don't think you realize it, Jason, but what you've done has not only hurt me, but all of my friends have lost their respect for you. I've expected so much from you ever since you moved in here with me, but it seems like all you want to do is have fun, and party all the time. We've got bills to pay, work to do, and we have a home to maintain. And to tell you the truth, I want absolutely nothing to do with a guy who just parks himself into my apartment, and wants nothing but sex as soon as I come home from a hard day at work."
"But I do realize it! I can change." He pleads, grasping your hand, in an attempt to convince you. "I can't get a job right now, because you know how it is. No one has called back from the applications I put in."
"Well, I wonder why. All you want to do is have fun. Life isn't all about fun. And when it comes to relationships, it's about making commitments and helping out as much as you can. And you haven't done any of that! Jason, you have to understand that I have an abundance of work to do here. And the only way we'll ever have time together, if we even get back together, is if you do your part. I'm not going to sit around and preach to you every day about doing your part. I was your girlfriend, and we had a life together. I'm sorry. It's over. Especially after what you did, but you know? I don't even care about that." You calmly take your hand away from him, as you look the other way.
"How the hell would you know what life is really about?!" He glares at you, pushing his plate away. "All you know is that job of yours. Ever since you started to work there, you've never thought about me, or our life together. ____...things can still go back to the way they were. Life isn't all about work, either. We're young." He says, squeezing your hand.
"It's not going to work. We're too different. I have my life to think about here...which may not be much to you. Whereas, you hardly have any responsibilities. We can always be friends, Jason...but for now, this has to stop." You smile weakly, and go back to your food. He sighs, and gets up. Round two goes to you.
"Listen...I've gotta go. I have some things to do before I go home." He says, as he grabs his jacket, with a demoralized look towards you.
"Don't drink too much at the bar." You reply, knowing that's where he's off to, as he opens the door.
His response is a slam of the door, which makes you wince, in pity, but at the same time, anger. With a growl, you get up, and place the half-empty dishes in the sink, promising yourself to wash them before you go to bed.
The next morning you wake up to the monotonous tone of the alarm clock, screaming at you to get out of bed. With a groan, you turn to your side, and shut it off, as you roll up into a sitting position. The mirror across the room stares at you, and you giggle at the sight of your hair. You never knew your hair could be in such an awful state. Running your fingers through it a few times, you walk to the bathroom, and shower, and get ready as quickly as you can. As soon as you come back out, dressed, and ready to go, you feel your heart sink, as you look at the bed, realizing that Jason isn't there, about to wake up to yell at you for being loud in the morning. You stand there for a few seconds, remembering the daily argument, and how he used to pull you back into bed to cuddle until you realized you're fifteen minutes late. You wipe away a few tears, convincing yourself that you won't cry, and you slip into your shoes, and grab your keys. The flowers he left you are still lying on the table, and you decide to put them in water before they wither away. Your heels click against the hardwood floor of the kitchen, as you fill a vase full of water. With a bittersweet smile, you place the roses in the vase, and then snap back to reality.
"What am I doing? Flowers? That's the oldest trick in the book..." You mumble, and dump the water out, and throw the flowers in the trash. "I've got to get a grip..."
With one last look at the beautiful red roses in the trash, you sigh, and pick up your purse, and walk out the door.
'I do miss him...but it's over.'
You speed out of the parking lot, fifteen minutes late, for the last time.
You trudge up the thick cement steps of your apartment complex, and forage through your purse for your keys, which you stupidly placed in some unknown crevice after locking your car. After the short triumphant finding, you unlock your apartment door, only to hear a boyish voice call your name from down the stairs.
"____! Wait!"
"Ugh...not again..." you grouse, as you watch Jason leap up the stairs. You eye him with disdain, as he hands you a bouquet of roses, with a bright smile. "Jason...what are you doing here?"
"I figured you'd forget about calling me today, so I thought I'd surprise you." He says, kissing you softly on the forehead.
"Okay, you know what? Fine. Come in. In fact, I'll even make you dinner." You say, frustrated with him. If you can't get rid of him, you might as well live with him.
You let him in, and with an insipid sigh, you set the flowers on the kitchen table, before you wash your hands to begin cooking for one more unplanned person. "Why are you here?"
"I miss you." He walks behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "It's been a long time since we've eaten dinner together, or talked, or--"
"Shh." You say, as you place a pot full of uncooked pasta and water on the stove. You turn around to face him, and ache to ask him something, as you look into his clear, viridian green eyes, the ones you fell for years ago. He's still every bit as charming as he was the day you met him. "Jason..." You trail off, and brush a few stray locks of his sandy brown hair away from his eyes. "Why do you do this to me?"
"Do what? I said I was sorry...I don't know what more I can do...I just want one more chance. Please, ____..." He leans in to kiss you, and for a few seconds, you move in closer, longing to feel his lips against yours.
The pot on the stove hisses, as if to warn you, and you quickly snap back to your normal, prudent self. You break away from him, and go to the stove, to stir the pasta, and then drain it. The steam from the hot pasta billows and ascends towards the ceiling, and you go to the fridge to warm up some leftover chicken from the night before. He watches you intently, his eyes welded on every movement you make. He does this every time he wants something, but you're not giving it to him. You dice the meat up into chunks, and fry it along with seasoning and a few vegetables, with a lackadaisical attitude. He senses this, but doesn't say a word. He doesn't dare.
A few minutes later, you rinse the pasta once more, and gruffly hand him some dishes, and eating utensils. "Make yourself useful. Set the table." You tell him, with an uninterested tone. He does as you say without question, and you bring the quickly prepared meal to the table, discreetly giving him his food first, and then adding your helping to your empty plate.
"Thanks..." He looks at you meekly, and you cross your legs, and rest your head on your hand, while your arm is placed on the table, in boredom, and dissatisfaction. Your powerful silence has rendered him speechless, and inside, you smile. Round one goes to you.
"So...how do you like it?" You ask him, sarcastically, as he eats gently, like you've poisoned his food.
He twirls some pasta around his fork. "It's great, as always." He chases a piece of chicken around his plate with his fork.
"Now...about that second chance..." You start off, after a small sip of wine. As if frozen in time, he stops what he's doing, and his head snaps up to look at you. His eyes gaze into yours, and you continue. "I don't think you realize it, Jason, but what you've done has not only hurt me, but all of my friends have lost their respect for you. I've expected so much from you ever since you moved in here with me, but it seems like all you want to do is have fun, and party all the time. We've got bills to pay, work to do, and we have a home to maintain. And to tell you the truth, I want absolutely nothing to do with a guy who just parks himself into my apartment, and wants nothing but sex as soon as I come home from a hard day at work."
"But I do realize it! I can change." He pleads, grasping your hand, in an attempt to convince you. "I can't get a job right now, because you know how it is. No one has called back from the applications I put in."
"Well, I wonder why. All you want to do is have fun. Life isn't all about fun. And when it comes to relationships, it's about making commitments and helping out as much as you can. And you haven't done any of that! Jason, you have to understand that I have an abundance of work to do here. And the only way we'll ever have time together, if we even get back together, is if you do your part. I'm not going to sit around and preach to you every day about doing your part. I was your girlfriend, and we had a life together. I'm sorry. It's over. Especially after what you did, but you know? I don't even care about that." You calmly take your hand away from him, as you look the other way.
"How the hell would you know what life is really about?!" He glares at you, pushing his plate away. "All you know is that job of yours. Ever since you started to work there, you've never thought about me, or our life together. ____...things can still go back to the way they were. Life isn't all about work, either. We're young." He says, squeezing your hand.
"It's not going to work. We're too different. I have my life to think about here...which may not be much to you. Whereas, you hardly have any responsibilities. We can always be friends, Jason...but for now, this has to stop." You smile weakly, and go back to your food. He sighs, and gets up. Round two goes to you.
"Listen...I've gotta go. I have some things to do before I go home." He says, as he grabs his jacket, with a demoralized look towards you.
"Don't drink too much at the bar." You reply, knowing that's where he's off to, as he opens the door.
His response is a slam of the door, which makes you wince, in pity, but at the same time, anger. With a growl, you get up, and place the half-empty dishes in the sink, promising yourself to wash them before you go to bed.
The next morning you wake up to the monotonous tone of the alarm clock, screaming at you to get out of bed. With a groan, you turn to your side, and shut it off, as you roll up into a sitting position. The mirror across the room stares at you, and you giggle at the sight of your hair. You never knew your hair could be in such an awful state. Running your fingers through it a few times, you walk to the bathroom, and shower, and get ready as quickly as you can. As soon as you come back out, dressed, and ready to go, you feel your heart sink, as you look at the bed, realizing that Jason isn't there, about to wake up to yell at you for being loud in the morning. You stand there for a few seconds, remembering the daily argument, and how he used to pull you back into bed to cuddle until you realized you're fifteen minutes late. You wipe away a few tears, convincing yourself that you won't cry, and you slip into your shoes, and grab your keys. The flowers he left you are still lying on the table, and you decide to put them in water before they wither away. Your heels click against the hardwood floor of the kitchen, as you fill a vase full of water. With a bittersweet smile, you place the roses in the vase, and then snap back to reality.
"What am I doing? Flowers? That's the oldest trick in the book..." You mumble, and dump the water out, and throw the flowers in the trash. "I've got to get a grip..."
With one last look at the beautiful red roses in the trash, you sigh, and pick up your purse, and walk out the door.
'I do miss him...but it's over.'
You speed out of the parking lot, fifteen minutes late, for the last time.
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