#y'all i am concerned this chap isn't as good as the last one but i think it's ok

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 24 :: Four Years Ago }}

Four years ago, Christmas eve was devastating.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69012459

Full chapter under the cut.

The pit at the bottom of Joey’s stomach had been aching for the last three days.  It was like he swallowed hot coals and they refused to stay down, bile creeping up his throat every time he passed by that closed office door.

The house should have felt warmer—there must have been fifteen human bodies radiating energy and buzzing around the house.  He’d been preparing in a way—a strange sort of supervisory role he hadn’t particularly desired—for the Architectural Digest spread on their house.  Joey had been told that the article was going to place special attention on the picture perfect family that Seto Kaiba had accrued.

What a fascinating figure, the journalist had said, he must be a very interesting person to be married to.

Joey couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt interested in the life he and the CEO had built.  Instead the décor and ambiance of their home was so cold and so superficial, like Joey lived in a hotel.

With such esteemed guests visiting on Christmas Eve, with such a paper trail of coverage, the administration of the Kaiba Estate had gone completely crazy.  Joey couldn’t leave a glass of water on the counter and expect it to be there in an hour.

Even the kids were with a stylist this morning.  It had seemed unfathomably frivolous and somehow also a bit duplicitous.  Were they really trying to convince the readers of Architectural Digest that their children had an intuitive sense of fashion?  Alexis was still not out of her terrible two’s, and the more layers of anything they draped over her, the greater the risk that they would trigger some sort of tantrum.

He’d deserve that, Joey thought, meanly.  He had half a mind to interrupt Kaiba in his office and ask him that simple question: What are you trying to prove?  Who could possibly care how Kaiba’s five-year-old son dressed?  What their kitchen looked like?

How well his husband was handling the spotlight?

If anyone really asked, he didn’t know what he would say.  No one from this world ever really asked him how he was doing, not in that caring sincere way that real friends do, and so he lived half a life sometimes—the exterior half.  The part that was supposed to be making cookies, and volunteering at the daycare even though the kids’ nannies were really more involved, and posting fun little videos on Instagram.  He had his own publicist, and he wasn’t supposed to even do that without approval—he understood the reasons but it was like every drop of authenticity was drained… all that remained was the flawless artifice of a live lived perfectly.  

And the worst part was he was supposed to have an ally in all this.  One person he was on the journey with.

But instead, Kaiba felt almost like a client.  A person who had engaged him for husband and fathering services, who had certain specifications, certain resource allotments.  

There was a forcefield around the office door.

Not a literal one, though Kaiba probably could have managed that if he had tried.  It was decidedly low tech.  Heavy mahogany, thick enough to withstand an explosion, and mysteriously devoid of the mistletoe and holly that had been draped over every inch of the house in an attempt to seem more festive and spirited than goddamn Martha Stewart.

The anger radiating out of the room must have been enough to keep the decorators far away.

Over the last year, Joey had been subjected to some updates about Kaiba Corp. affairs.  They had just released a new phone model that incorporated holographic images for video chatting or something.  The launch had been a success, Joey assumed, because everything that Kaiba touched in the marketplace turned to gold.  Kaiba’s failures were few and far between, and his successes shined brightly enough that nothing bad seemed to stick.

The technology was supposed to be able to harness the capabilities that rendered Duel Monsters so realistically in Duel Disks, and use them connect people to distant loved ones with compelling holograms.  It was a technical masterpiece that had him and Kaiba travelling cross country to attend industry awards and galas.  It was exhausting, and half the time he felt like some sort of accessory.  Like Kaiba’s personal assistant had flown in the right suit, the right watch, and Joey to complete the ensemble.

It wasn’t like that the whole time.  There was a period, really quite a long time at first, where it felt like a game.  Joey’d try to smuggle food into venues that didn’t allow it or smuggle it out of galas for later, they’d conspiratorially make fun of other guests—especially mocking the ever-present Pegasus.  Sometimes Joey would pull one of his old tricks—they’d graffiti a bathroom stall after defiling it or do some harmless property destruction at a fancy house.

Weird nonsense too: who could steal the strangest object from the von Schroeder mansion, most absurd selfie with a world leader, that sort of thing.  Little adventures that had wracked up a collection of items that they could never properly explain: Seto’s signed copy of Warren Buffet’s biography, crystal low ball glasses from Pegasus’ house that didn’t match the set that Seto already had, and a very strange cellphone photo of Joey holding the coat of the Prime Minister of Canada while the head of state was puking in a bush behind him.

It had been fun.  It had been so fun.  Once they had let their guard down around each other, they had found excellent playmates.  Joey could be almost as devious as Kaiba under the right circumstances, and he was playful.  And Kaiba was always gunning for a competition.  A rivalry, any rivalry, any time.

It was not like marrying his best friend, but it was like marrying his favorite co-conspirator.

But over time, something about the events had turned so routine that it was merely another part of Joey’s very draining job of trophy husband.  And the snarky comments he was getting about the suit sizing from the stylist was the last thing he needed.  It just reminded him that he wasn’t a person to these people—he was an accessory, a decoration that could be trimmed and measured and posed just so like all the tinsel in the house.

Even if Joey hadn’t been living and breathing the new technology by virtue of listening to his husband’s egotistical acceptance speeches every other weekend for a month, Joey had seen the advertisements that had polluted his social media streams and had threaded themselves in between videos.  He’d even been featured in one—and he had to admit that hadn’t minded filming that—talking with a virtual Yugi, still bearing his King of Games title and the wild tri-colored hair, with his Duel Disk strapped to his arm and belt still wrapped around his neck.

That had been fine, but several of the other ads were geared at families.  And although Kaiba had for the most part kept the family out of the limelight, Joey’s publicist had been pushing harder for more of that humanizing presence.

“Everyone knows what your husband was like during ‘Battle City,’ and subsequent tournaments and product launches.  He had a legend’s status and we could work with the ‘Rogue Genius’ sort of thing,” the publicist had kindly explained, his tone perhaps a touch demeaning.  “But Kaiba Corporation isn’t just selling toys anymore.  And people do not want to buy the most essential equipment of their lives from a rebellious teen.  They want to see a man with integrity.  With a family, even an unorthodox one.”

Joey rolled his eyes at the last comment.

They hadn’t built this family in order to sell more products, it had been so… organic.  A natural expression of love.  Being in their thirties, having so much love for each other that it made so much sense to share it with children.  They could do it right this time.  All they had to do was the opposite of what their parents had done.

And they had!  Kaiba never raised his voice and Joey never picked a fight.  It was everything they hadn’t had growing up.  It was stable.  Neat.

And it had become absolutely miserable.  A set of formal relationships, scrupulously maintained and completely aesthetically flawless.  And now, it was even a saleable commercial product.

Joey was so close to breaching the forcefield and getting the door open, but he could just hear the faint traces of a conference call behind the door.

The phantoms were trying to tell Kaiba something about some supply chain problem.  Billions of dollars in contracts and products were flying back and forth in complex negotiations that rose to the level of international affairs.

Suddenly Joey’s problem—do the kids actually need a stylist, Kaiba?—seemed unfathomably small.  Heroically unimportant, embarrassingly trivial.

Did he even want to walk into whatever shitstorm was going on in the study?  Kaiba had his job, and Joey had his.

The only difference was that people seemed to value Kaiba’s job, and Joey’s was increasingly shitty.

Finally one of the maids—Joey thought she might even be in charge of that team, but was not technically the household manager, which was a different staff person—shook him from his frustrated position just outside of Kaiba’s study door.

“They’re ready to start taking the pictures,” she said.  It was so neutral, and Joey realized, a bit slowly, that she didn’t like him.

People usually liked him.  If they didn’t, he probably had picked a fight with them or something.  Anyone who spent real time with him couldn’t resist his signature Joey charm.  Maybe she’s new? Joey wondered.  Or was he just… not the same anymore?

Within the same minute, the children’s stylist beamed out of the playroom, with much the same announcement.  She was all smiles—and who wouldn’t be with such a fun niche.  They both looked at Joey.

The publicist was scaling the stairs, hand skimming the highly decorated banister and leaping over the twirls of pine leaves and luxurious red velvet ribbons, announcing that the Architectural Digest reporters were ready to begin.

Ah, it was time for him to do his job.  The only thing that he was supposed to really do.  Face his husband.

Joey could see why everyone else dreaded it so much.  Why he was so well-compensated for the task.

Joey extended his wrist, with a slow trepidation he had learned as a duelist, and tapped.

Within seconds Kaiba was at the door, eyes all blue fire, like a lion interrupted during a feast of antelope gizzards.

“Eh, we’ve got the thing?  The Architectural whatever thing?”  Joey figured the posse of people gathered behind him made half of his point.

“Yes.” Kaiba said, clipped, and looking still slightly pissed.

“So uh, you good?  You look good,” Joey gave him a once over, and was rewarded, as always with the handsome view of a perfectly put together Seto Kaiba.

Kaiba rewarded the compliment with a smirk.  “Yes.”

And the whole team descended together, with two of the more intense nannies handling the children and joining at the back of the group.

When finally down the stairs, Alexis was passed into Joey’s arms, and Atticus was handed off to Kaiba.

“How are your piano lessons going?” Kaiba asked Atticus, as if he was a colleague and not a five-year-old.

“Awesome!” Atticus answered with a smile.

“Do you know any duets yet?”

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!” Atticus announced, pleased with himself.

Kaiba stood for a moment, as if wracking his brain for any memory of the song.  Then he nodded.  “We can start with that.”

The Architectural Digest reporter looked at Kaiba, having expected to have his full attention immediately.  Indeed, the reporter looked like the kind of person who expected to have anyone’s attention at any time.  Joey had spared the man a Google search at some point before the meeting, and he had been impressed by the guy’s list.  He had done articles on the interior design aesthetic—and the corresponding family culture—of two sitting presidents, the prime ministers of both Austria and Australia, and Oprah.  Oprah.

He dressed like it too.  His silk scarf was recognizably Hermes, and Joey could tell that his whole thing was how fancy people were expected to dress.  Flashy and complicated and matching, but only sort of?

The stylist had intentionally been playing up the new, everyman qualities of the updated Kaiba family.  It was a stark contrast to the Visual Kei inspired aesthetic that his partner used to wear, but honestly?  Other than changing the t-shirt to cashmere and making the jeans cost about $400 more, Joey felt like he looked pretty much the same as he used to.  His shoes were a lot less comfortable now.

The reporter almost raised a hand to interrupt, and Joey instinctually went on damage control.

“Hey, great to finally meet you!  Welcome to our house.  Looks like you’re in for a concert to start off!” Joey smiled warmly, and was pleased to see it mirrored in the reporter’s face.

“Your husband is an interesting fellow, huh?”  The reporter had something of a pan-Atlantic accent to his voice, making him sound a little bit like he fell out of the Turner Classic Movies channel.

“You don’t know the half of it!  But I’m sure he’ll warm up,” Joey lied.  Joey reached forward to loop an arm around his husband’s shoulders as they continued to make their way toward the grand piano in the living room.  “What are you doing?” he whispered in his ear.

Kaiba spared him a dark, sideways glance.  “I am trying… to demonstrate human connection.  That’s the instruction I received.”

Joey laughed, though it wasn’t easy.  “Well, could you smile or something?  Introduce yourself?  It looks disjointed like this, I think.”

Kaiba’s attention diverted, announcing that the conversation was over.  Joey withdrew, his speaking time already terminated.

But the comment made enough of an impact.  When they arrived in the living room, which had been festooned with just about every wintry icon available in the tri-state area—including a row of pinecones and decorative wreathing along the piano and the biggest tree that could fit in the tall space jammed with more lights and baubles than should be possible—Kaiba deigned to greet the guest.

Kaiba gestured to the piano, and Atticus happily plopped down.  Kaiba joined him, much more calmly.  “Now, for a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,” Kaiba announced, rolling back the fallboard.

Atticus nodded mutely.  Someone had clearly drilled into him the importance of not saying anything weird, and he had interpreted it as not saying anything at all.

Kaiba began the initial keystrokes of the song, only for Atticuls to slam both of his hands down on the keys and completely startle him.

Kaiba instantly stopped playing, but Atticus kept going cubby child fingers on random keys.

“Do you… actually know how to play the song,” Kaiba asked, as Atticus started winding down.

Atticus beamed, “Yeah Oto-san, but this is a special Christmas remix!”

Kaiba smiled softly, shockingly genuine, and Joey was sure the cameras captured it.  “Very well.”  Kaiba diverted his attention away from the piano.  “Now that we have performed a Christmas remix, I suppose we may as well continue with the interview.”

The reporter seemed to be in good humor, eyes energic as they tracked Kaiba and Atticus back to the couch to join Joey and Alexis.

Like a flip had been switched, Kaiba acted like he had a human interest in the whole situation, but let Joey do most of the talking.

Joey thought maybe he was nervous.  He was so comfortable when the topic turned to the impact of Kaiba Corp., on international growth this or technology development that.  But sitting there, on a couch laden with thick green and red ribbon, being asked about how he balanced raising children with being in the office, he looked almost nauseated.

“I have a great partner,” Kaiba said, robotic and dead-eyed.  “And great help.  I could not do it alone.”

Joey tried to beam, but it felt like a brutally minimizing note.

A great partner?  It was a performance review, not a term of affection.

After the interview finally ended and the additional staff began to disperse, Joey found himself trailing Kaiba back to his study.  The kids were whisked away—Atticus already had another piano lesson and Alexis was due in the ballet studio.  She had made the cut as one of the youngest among the 130 children to participate in the New York City Ballet Company production of Nutcracker, scoring a prestigious position as one of the angels.  It was very impressive and very cute, but it felt a bit odd to watch the two-and-change-year-old have so many appointments.  She just spun around a little… Joey had to assume it was another instance of her name opening doors.  But it was adorable, and she was a pretty serious toddler, and who was he to get in the way of high performance.

She said she liked it, as much as a two-year-old can articulate that they like anything, and he didn’t want to burst anyone’s bubble.

So, after everyone had scattered, it was just Kaiba in his study, and Joey feeling empty.

Joey knocked on the door.  When he didn’t get a response, he opened it anyway.

“What?” Kaiba snapped, not looking away from his laptop.

“I…” Joey thought about what he wanted to say, but nothing came to mind immediately, except for the simple truth.  “I can’t handle this.”

Kaiba didn’t look up.  “You can’t handle what?  Talking to a guy for an hour?  You did nothing.”

When Joey didn’t immediately leave, Kaiba paused in his typing, maybe realizing that he couldn’t really account for what had happened prior to his entrance.  “Do you need more help?”

Joey sank into the companion chair in the study.  “I mean no, I think there’s probably too much staff.  Do the kids really need a stylist?”

Kaiba looked up.  “I am so busy, Jounouchi.  Do you really want to debate the merits of having someone pick the children’s clothes for a photoshoot?  That cannot possibly be the best use of your time, and I know it’s not the best use of mine.”

Joey met his eyes for a second, but lost his determination.  “I just… I miss how it was. Things didn’t used to be like this, right?”

Kaiba sighed.  “Things have always been like this.  What do you mean?”

“You know what, never mind.  It’s fine.  It’s just, I guess it’s Christmas eve.”  Kaiba didn’t acknowledge the statement and Joey left the study, heart twisted, feeling more alone than he had in years.  “We’re supposed to do family stuff.”

Kaiba went back to his computer.  “We did.  And I’m sure more is scheduled for tomorrow—I know that I’m scheduled to attend one of Alexis’ performances tomorrow.  You should check your calendar, I am sure we have a dinner scheduled somewhere tonight… I think at the Governor’s estate.  You should check with someone about the required attire.  But not me, Jounouchi, I really am busy.”  The chillin blue eyes didn’t even follow Joey as he stalked out of the room.

Joey didn’t say it—he couldn’t find the will to say it yet, and he didn’t say it for another year.  But in that moment, Joey knew that their marriage was over.