Let Me Help You

Skin & Scars

His little whispers, "Love me, love me."
That's all I asked for: "Love me, love me."
He battered his tiny fists to feel something,
Wondered what it's like to touch, and feel something.

Seto was almost back to his normal self, and Joey was almost having a hard time believing that the man who'd been so weak as to be unable to stand, who'd clung to him just to maintain a sense of reality, was now sitting in front of him acting perfectly normal again.

Joey was disturbed as he watched Seto getting stitches without any painkillers or numbing agents. He said that it barely hurt, that he hardly felt a thing. Even the nurse had asked him if he'd taken any kind of medication that day, which he answered honestly and in the negative. Joey believed him, which made this that much more strange. A theory began to swirl around inside his head, but he needed to test it first, which is precisely what he did when he had escorted Seto back to his room afterward. He was too concerned to leave him alone again just yet.

"Seto, can you please close your eyes for a moment and hold out your hands?" he asked, not bothering with a fake excuse for why he should.

Seto raised an eyebrow as he looked at him. "Will I regret doing so?" he asked dubiously.

"Nah, I ain't gonna hurtchya or anything like that. Just trust me." Maybe it was that ignorant accent that made him seem so innocent and harmless, or maybe it was the fact that Joey'd shown himself to be trustworthy up until this point, but something made him close his eyes as Joey had asked.

"Which hand did I touch?" Joey asked after brushing one finger across the back of Kaiba's right hand.

"Neither," Kaiba scoffed, keeping his eyes closed.

"How about this time?" He touched the right hand again, applying slightly more pressure.

"What kind of a game are you playing? Again, neither." Then he felt a faint brush of pressure on the back of his left hand.

"Which hand?"

"The left one." He answered, now scowling.

Joey brushed his fingertips softly across Seto's left hand again after hearing that, reducing the pressure, and got no reaction from him. "Which hand?"

"Neither. Are you done yet?" Seto was getting impatient now, not seeing the point of all this.

"Yeah, you can open your eyes now," Joey said, still resting his fingertips faintly on the back of Seto's right hand. Seto opened his eyes, and only when he saw Joey's hand did he register its presence on his own. He brushed it off with an air of disdain that reminded Joey of the old Kaiba, that is, the facade Joey used to associate with Seto's identity. The one he now understood to be mostly just an act. "I did touch your hand the first time Kaiba, and the other times too," he said quietly, coffee-colored eyes serious.

The young businessman scowled and turned away, strolling towards his closet as he mentally cursed himself for believing that Joey hadn't noticed. It would have been better for Seto if he hadn't noticed, so he'd let himself believe it for as long as possible. Turned out the mutt was more perceptive than he'd given him credit for. As he entered his closet, he stripped off his bloodied shirt and dropped it on the floor, seeking out a fresh one for sleeping in.

He hadn't realized that Joey had followed him. The blond was leaning against the door-frame with his arms crossed over his own bare chest, suppressing a blush as he watched Seto's shirt come off. Damn, why did this stubborn jerk have to be so attractive? The scars his back, neck, and arms bore did nothing to decrease his sexiness. If anything, they added to his handsomeness in Joey's eyes. They were symbols of strength, of survival, of success.