"Love him or hate him, you have to agree that he has brought a turn of the century- a sort of uprising; we've had greatness before him, though I'm not sure we will after."
The news was blaring again as Seto took another hard sip of his black coffee. He was sick of hearing about this person. He was sick of seeing him on the television every five seconds; was sick of reading the headlines every ten minutes. Everyone bowed down to him, like he was some sort of king or God among men. It was ridiculous, and he used to hold that title.
But his followers feared him; the ones that weren't smart fawned over him- subsequently getting crushed underneath his foot when he had the chance. He burned holes into his competitors, chase away any and all doubt that he was on top of the world. And then there was-
"Please, that's just my stage name. You can call me Atem, you know."
Another cup of coffee met its end on the floor of his office. Sick to his stomach, queasy and weak just from hearing his voice- or was it butterflies and ecstasy swirling in his veins? He refused to believe such a thing. But it was angering. He had known this pipsqueak from his early days, had followed him- had vowed absolutely vengeance on his game career. A revenge that was never seen to the plate, he might sourly add.
This man, this deity among the sloth of the humans- just standing out in the open. His crimson eyes burned into Seto's mere soul as he stared into the countless cameras that followed him around. He pissed Seto off like no other and there was a deep seated reason for this.
Seto Kaiba always got what he wanted.
And in his entire life, he had never wanted anyone more than when he'd first laid eyes on Atem. He thought he was going to lose his chance; once he accepted the magic as more than just smoke and mirrors, Atem was going to leave. Atem was supposed to go back and rest in the afterlife, his destiny complete.
And yet there he was, staring Seto in the face.
He haunted Seto's dreams, a work unfinished, an end never fulfilled. As long as Atem still walked on this earth, he would continue to slowly see to Seto's end; and he didn't even have to do a thing. It was just that he existed, that he was on the peak of fame, that he was the most desirable thing and had been for six years now-
Seto needed Atem like he needed a disease. The lithe form, sinewy limbs that screamed sex; dressed usually in chains, leathers, and collars with hair that men and women alike wished they knew the secret to- kohl lined eyes and pouty lips with that indefinite smirk that just tugged right at the corner.
It had been out of revenge and utter dislike that this fascination had started, and he wasn't sure when it had turned to sleepless nights and paparazzi photos. All he knew was that he needed the other. He needed the other tied to his bed and screaming his name. He just needed to know what should have been left behind. Atem was a should not, could not, wouldn't ever-
"There are always so many people that come to mind when I'm asked who I thank for this trail of glory."
His eyes moved right into the camera. Seto could barely breathe.
"Well I suppose I wouldn't be anywhere without Kaiba Corp employing me."