Shimi: Alti
Author's Notes: This is the more artsy, more angsty, more dreamlike version of Shimi: Stain. They are two entirely different stories, only the first part is the same and the fact they are both Y/S.

12.22.03
For some odd reason, he reminds me of snow. Up until now I never realized why, he isn't that pale, nor is winter his favorite time of the year. I could spend hours watching him, like how he is now, sleeping. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the cute pink lamb tucked up near his face. If anyone knew that he slept with a stuffed animal he'd probably kill them. Then again, this is the only time he's ungaurded, his lips slightly parted. It's snowing outside, which is what made me think of him and snow in combination. Funny, when he opens his eyes, they're blue, like the ocean or a sapphire or some other expensive stone and twice as precious. His pajamas are too small, made of flannel with the plaid tone something I would never imagine him picking out himself.
"Look, Yami, it's snowing..." His voice always effects me in some strange way. Only under sleep do I find it safe to be around him, but even just his presence makes me flushed. He is pale, but not white, the dark eyelashes resting against his cheekbones that were pronounced but not hollow. Beautiful. The glimmer of pale pink caught my eye. His right thumbnail had pink nailpolish on it. When he sleeps... all the power he holds falls away, and he's just another man, albeit, much more pretty then many, but when he's awake... He's so cold, beautiful, untouchable, and weaves spells without even knowing it. Sometimes, he's even crazy, I think he's mind can't deal and just folds into itself sometimes...
"I hate the snow,"
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4.13.90
The little boy sat on the plastic covered couch, swinging his legs back and forth. The blue and red sneakers moved in a rythem, his fingers digging into the shiney blue surface he was sitting on. Tiny reddish lights twinkled when he clapped his feet together, dust and dirt falling to the floor underneath them. As people walked by, they couldn't help but to stare. He was dressed normally, the blue shirt with the unmistakeable educational cartoon character had been on sale just last week at the mall. The blue jeans were a generic brand, but it was not his clothes which drew their stares. It was his eyes. Endless, clear blue eyes sat on the child's face. The cheeks were only slightly rounded with baby fat, but his eyes were beyond his years, even farther then his intelligence could project.
"Seto..." a woman in red high heels walks over and stands in front of him. She's somewhat plump, her lightbrown hair a shade lighter than his. He looks at her, no through her, and continues swinging his legs, smacking his shoes together every thirteenth swing. She waits, but her hands curl into fists she stuffs in the pockets of her flowered dress. On the fourty second swing he looks into her eyes. She draws her hands from her pockets, they are no longer fists.
"Yes?" the boy, Seto, says in a perfectly level voice. He's so young, but already commands the area around him. Her pink painted lips curve upward into a smile, she holds out her hand.
"Are you ready?"
"I don't want to," he replies, just as evenly as before. Her smile drops for a moment, her eyes, unlike his were a muddy brown, almond shaped. It was hard to see the family resemblance, her hair was done in fake curls, matching her out of style lipstick and fingernails that were painted pink. The color of her nails almost matched that of her lips, a pale unappealing fleshy color.
"Seto, honey, it's important to your father and me,"
"So why isn't he here?" He stops looking through her and pierces her with his uncanny gaze. She rewets her lips, shaking her head nervously, causing her dangling dragon earrings to swing back and forth irregularly.
"Your father is very busy," she tried to smile reassuringly.
"He promised," the child said stubbornly, still looking at her.
"I..ah..." she fumbles for the right words.
"It doesn't matter..." he stops looking at her and jumps off the plastic couch, the tiny indent left by his body quickly filling in.
"Seto..." she tries to be comforting, but he brushes past her with the speed his little legs could manage and hurries on down the sterile white hallways.
"It doesn't matter," he says again, either to reinforce the matter with her... or for himself, she couldn't tell.

5.23.90
"So, how does it make you feel?" the man asked. Seto didn't look at the man, he didn't speak to the man, just sat there. The light was coming in the window at an angle that made the dust look like glitter, like dancing glitter. He focused on that instead. The man sighed, shuffling some papers.
"Talk to me, Seto," The boy's eyes flickered at the mention of his name.
"I feel sad," the boy said in a perfectly rehearsed voice. This is what the men always wanted to hear, "I don't understand. I feel very sad," he continued. The man raised an eyebrow, his brown eyes twinkling.
"Nice act, kid," the voice was different, warm, trying to be friendly. Seto didn't buy it.
"I don't like you," Seto switched his standpoint, to blunt refusal.
"That's better, why not?" the session ended with the boy glaring heatedly at the man. The man had won, made him say something true to him, and Seto wouldn't forgive him for that. The man felt some unease as the blue eyes were focused on him with all intensity. He canceled the rest of the sessions and transferred Seto to a different person.
Three monthes later the man committed suicide.

6.14.93
Seto eyed the man with distrust. This man was different from the last one, the last one Seto knew had gone insane, this man was... elegant. A bit of forced elegance, the boy thought, studying the clean sweeping arm movements and false emphasis in the man's voice. A single amber eye watched him with eerie stillness while the man's mouth moved and laughed. Seto didn't like him.
"So...it says here that three years ago, minus a couple monthes, your father went and offed himself...hmmmm?" the man asked. Seto ignored him, looking at the three golden buttons on the man's suit. Each one had a different animal engraved on it, the highest button had a rooster, the second a cat and the third had a winged horse. The man wore an outragish red suit with a white lace shirt. Seto didn't like it.
"Correct," he said anyways though, maybe if he talked enough the man would let him go early.
"And your mother died recently hmmm? She offed herself as well, and I would be your seventeenth counselor in three years..." the man said, almost happily. They don't like my eyes Seto thought to himself.
"Correct," he said again.
"And your younger brother..." a slow rage began to form in Seto's stomach.
"Is fine," he replied, perhaps too quickly.
"And your younger brother and you are being sent to an orphange," the man sidestepped what he was going to say. But it wasn't because of Seto, this made the boy think a little.

"Can you do me a favor?" the man asked. Seto looked unsure, this odd man had him off balance. The man would not be put off by him, and the man would not be affected by him.

"Can you touch your toes for me while looking at that picture?" Seto turned and looked at the picture, blinking he did as he was told, feeling odd to have his back to the man. Something he didn't like happened, but his mind couldn't pinpoint it, and instead he felt himself sink to the floor. His concious thought part of his mind sunk back and hid in the shadows. A button hovered in his vision for the longest time, a button with a winged horse. He always did hate Pegasus.