What I Expect

Golden Years - Epilogue

"Do you like this cardigan?" Akefia holds one up against himself. "Or this one?" he looks at both with a strange scowl, condemning each design in its own right with a personal vendetta.

"I think you shouldn't be asking me what kind of cardigan you should be buying like a sad, depressed old man," I roll my eyes, stuck in the chair in the corner of this shop while my husband nerds out over cardigans like an architect would. I'm really not mad at him for making me spend an hour in this place while he tries on every. Single. One. Akefia looks up and pouts at me and puts both of them back. If he doesn't buy anything...!

He ends up buying a long, red sweater dress and a kind of 'stylish' cardigan from the more expensive reels. After we leave, walking along the road with our arms linked, Akefia points to the sleek shopfront that overwhelms the entire old street. Pale browns buried under blasting bright pinks. "It's Ann Summers," he winks at me, gravitating towards it. "Wanna go in?"

"Absolutely not, you creep," I swat him harsher than I meant to, fearing he'll keel over. The man shows his age at the weirdest of times and then there are moments I forget he isn't in his twenties anymore.

"I have CrossFit and then...I can't remember, later on..." I start going through my itinerary for the day, aloof and disassociated from walking around. By the time we reach the mouth of the subway tunnel I've forgotten we even left the store. Snapping out of my somnambulism and looking around in shock. "How did we get here?!"

"We walked, silly," he grins and leads me down. The younger and more spritely one than myself making me feel jealous. Yet in all his smiles, I see the subtle flinches in pain.

Akefia has always been small and over the years has gown more and more fragile, smaller. As if he'd topple over if I blew on him to hard. Heheh, phrasing. His legs can't take much anymore, neither can his back. Even his arms grow more frail by the day. The culprit; osteoporosis.

We arrive at the boulevard, our own villa on the top floor. We don't have a private elevator of course, but rather a shared one along with the 2 other residents on this floor. Our apartment an open-plan living room with multiple levels connecting each room with a web-like labyrinth. Based off the original New York City street model, a microcosm of the city we left behind so many years ago in favour of Japan. Akefia designed this building himself.

It's so nice to change out of my outdoor clothes. Since I retired from psychology, I no longer have the 'uniform free' feeling when I return home, but instead vow to wear exclusively pyjamas in the house for the rest of my life. And therefore 'outdoor clothes' are my new uniform.

Akefia too, just wears a red bath robe and boxers most of the time. Dark blue ones which his entire drawer is full of. Exclusively that colour. His glasses have blue frames too, their chain a red velvet.

Resting my arm on the back of the couch, I wipe my hand lazily through his hair. Giving him a head massage while zoning out into the blaring screen before us, one that covers the entire wall. "Are you gonna get it cut?" I like his long hair look - especially unshaven. A lot more than when his hair was chin length or to his shoulders.

"Yeah... what?"

"Are you getting your hair cut soon?!" I shout.

"Oh!... No,"

"Good," I give him a thumbs up just in case he didn't hear me again. While I don't want him to get a haircut, it's be nice to see it actually styled instead of poking out every random direction like cactus spikes. "Where do you wanna go now?"

"You know, I've never really done anything that American," he chuckles. "I'd like to sometime. What's the most American thing you can think of to do?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" I roll my eyes. I remember the world being a lot better than this.

"Uh, no. What about a shooting range?"

"Will you be okay with that?" I ask the man who's avoided guns his entire life.

"No. But it'll be an experience,"

The shooting range is one we must leave the city for. I booked the slot the perfect time to be back on time for my own appointments. After a brief safety demonstration and being fitted for uncomfortable earmuffs, we enter the cube of mostly bulletproof glass. Akefia picks up the handgun. Cold metal bites his hand and makes him tremble.

"Are you okay?"

"No," everything shakes. He stands with his feet firmly on the floor. He's simply pass out of he wasn't rooting himself to this spot. I don't know why he did this, don't have the confidence to ask.

The shoots are deafening even with the protectors. The room seems a shake. No, Akefia just falls. Not blown back by the blasts but too heavy to be supported by his foundations of jelly legs.

"Shit," I help him up by the arm. He looks right through me, dead eyes devoid of anything I recognise. "Akefia! Akefia!" I shout his name until he wakes up. Not having had an attack like that in a while. Even I get a stomachache with nerves.

"Why did you do that to yourself?" I ask once he's been refreshed by the cold air outside and a mouth-burning carbonated drink.

"It's been some time since I felt so stimulated. The elderly life simply isn't for me,"

I wish I didn't understand him in that second but I do.

*

We always read together in bed before falling sleep, it's the only time I have to wear glasses too. These times when the world is silent and all that matters is within the 4 walls of our room. I think of something suddenly, something I think about every few years. A question I've been asking him for decades. "Do you regret not having kids?"

"Don't you ask me this every 5 years? And the answer I give you is always the same?"

"Yeah, but... I know you've always wanted them,. And every 5 years it's been an offer. Not - well it's kind of too late isn't it?"

He closes his book. Shit, that means he's super affected by the question. "Do I regret having kids? Yeah, kinda. But at the same time, I'm fulfilled without them,"

Before now, he's always answered that he's fulfilled without them. This is the first time he admits he regrets it. It's shocking, making me feel like such a dick for standing in the way of his dreams all these years. I panic, thinking of the quickest way to make his golden years his best. "I- it isn't really too, late, we can apply for adoption and-"

"Marik!" he stops me with a glare. It's been a long time since he raised his voice. "If you didn't want kids at twenty - forty - sixty - you aren't going to want them now! It doesn't matter... I don't resent you for it. I love you, I don't need them in my life to make it complete,"

Everyone else has them. Joey and Mai, Melvin and Bakura, Yugi and Yami, Ishizu and Seto. He's spent all these years watching their happy lives with children and he tells me he doesn't resent the fact I never wanted them. A lie if I've ever known one. But then he takes my hand, listing it to his lips and kissing it gently.

"I'm happy with how I've lived. And how I've loved you,"

I shuffle down the headboard and rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes ready for sleep. I know he'll be reading all night. Won't get a wink. So he's my bedrock for slumber. The joys of an insomniac husband.

i think to myself, if I fall sleep tonight will I wake up tomorrow? A morbid thought apparently. But one that makes me smile. If I do, I'm rewarded with one more day with Akefia. If I don't, then I've fulfilled everything I've wanted to in my life. My golden years experienced in nothing by good spirits. Drifting off, my heartbeat slows in my ears. I'm older than Akefia, this was always inevitable.

~~~~~

So this has been my longest story of all time! I'm gong to upload it to AO3 even if just to get an idea of what the word count is. If it's over 100,000 it'll be insane. I also didn't realise how many ships I included in this until I made Marik start listing them all off. I even probably missed some.

My next YGO story is going to be a tendershipping called 'The Flower Child' which I'll upload this week. Hope you enjoyed reading!