[ mokuba glances down at the countertop. there are little specs of whipped cream dotting the otherwise pristine surface. his parfait is melting... he grimaces. ]
He doesn't really hate you, you know.
[ yuugi, and jonouchi, and everyone... they were the closest things they've ever had to friends, whatever seto says. maybe his brother still can't believe in that kind of thing, but... but he does. even if he wouldn't say it to his face. ]
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He doesn't really hate you, you know.
[ yuugi, and jonouchi, and everyone... they were the closest things they've ever had to friends, whatever seto says. maybe his brother still can't believe in that kind of thing, but... but he does. even if he wouldn't say it to his face. ]
What if I do, huh?