howtopuzzleship says: Reminder that your OTP will emotionally tear you apart
I’ll write this, you know I will.
I want you to…..
but I don’t cuz I know it will be sad D:
*cracks knuckles* A’ight, then.
They knew. It was nearing the time for him to go - only a week left.
“Aibou, it’s alright,” Yami murmured, “We knew this was going to happen. You’ll be fine.”
He ducked his head, determined to not let him see the tears that he indubitably knew were streaming down his face. Hands came up to curl gently around his biceps, trailing down to catch the loose fists he had brought up for unconscious protection.
There was a tumble of emotions across their link, scatterings of love and pain, acceptance and regret and sadness. It sparked like the primeval neurons each thought was intimately made of.
This rippling uproar, solid grief and submissive torture, placated itself between them. Ages of memories were wound around them. His other self (to which he had the unsettling feeling that permission would be revoked), so ever loving, kissed his forehead with the closeness that was only ever born from years of absence and mingling between two fractured souls.
“It’ll be okay,” was the calm, weathered reassurance repeated into his fringe of starry-coloured hair.
Howtopuzzleship: yet again dear followers you force my hand and I must reblog AWESOMENESS.
He pressed his fist hard against his chin, resisting the urge to scratch the place where his tears striped his skin. His arms shook as his larynx strained to keep the uneven sobs from becoming vocal.
It was the greatest lie he’d ever told him, and he very much wished that for just one moment, they could be honest.
There was a steep cost to the magic that had been trapped in that awful, gilded box. Like a grotesque monolith, cobbled together by the foundation of their fallen enemies, mangled souls, blood, sweat, and sleep, the sacrifices to that long dead pharaoh’s covenant with the devil reared up before them. And now, as it’s acme, it asked one more offering — insurmountable love, snuffed out by the inarguable reality that it was fate.
Yugi wondered if his other could understand — if he wanted to. In his deepest heart, he hoped that the spirit had not tried. His most precious friend had already suffered enough — he deserved to be spared the yawning wound that this break would surely cause. He was going home — to family, friends, to loved ones he had been desperate to meet again for more than his fair share of lifetimes. He had done more than enough to earn his heaven — and in the Field, there could not be pain like this. It defied the very idea of Elysium.
He could take this last blow. He could bare this final burden so that this person he loved more than himself could find peace.
So he allowed the sweet lie whispered against his forehead, and clung to the astral hand and budding warmth spreading from where his other’s mind cradled him.
And he cried.
Howtopuzzleship: KIDS STOP MAKING MAMA CRY