This is the final chapter of a story I stared a long time ago on a separate account. Since my last update I've lost the login information of the original account on which the first six chapters of this story are posted. To comply with rules/guidelines, instead of re-uploading the entire story here I'm just posting this final chapter and a link to the first six:
s/3296889/1/As-I-Remember
It may seem a little strange to come back to a story I started over four years ago, but I just felt like tying up a loose end. To anyone who's read the entire thing: Thank you for being so patient.
*Also, I do my best to proofread but if you see a typo/error I would love to know so I can fix it pronto. Thank you.
XXX
It was nearly nine-o'clock at night when Bakura finally returned home, where—to his immediate displeasure—he found the front door unlocked.
"Ryou," he growled, shutting it hard behind him. "How many times do I have to tell you…?" The boy was about to get an earful. It infuriated him how careless Ryou could be. It was just plain idiotic to leave the front door unlocked. How else was Bakura supposed to ensure Ryou's safety in his absence?
He strode down the hall straight for their bedroom and entered without knocking. If Ryou was still asleep Bakura would just have to wake him up. "Ryou?"
But the bed was empty.
Bakura could feel his heartbeat quicken.
"Ryou!" he hollered, swiftly striding to the bathroom. He threw back the shower curtain. No Ryou. Back into the hallway and into the kitchen. The lights were out so he flipped them on. The room was empty. He scanned it for clues—everything was very clean. No mugs of tea or signs of life, but the air did smell faintly of something sweet.
"Ryou!" he barked, anger and fear growing by the second. His search became more frantic. He threw open the pantry, slamming it shut again when he found it empty. He doubled back to the bedroom, tearing the closet apart—but Ryou was not hiding in the back. "Damn it!" he growled again, slamming his fist into the wall.
Next, Bakura pulled out his flip phone. Ryou's cell phone, technically, but Bakura had commandeered it long ago. Why did Ryou need a phone? Who did he need to call? Besides, Bakura needed it in his line of work. Communication and timing was key. Now he pulled it out and dialed Marik's number. The phone rang, and with each ring Bakura grew more and tense. Without realizing it he'd balled his free hand into a fist. Finally someone answered.
"Hello?" It was Malik, but that didn't matter.
"Is Ryou with you?" snapped Bakura.
"Bakura?" Malik verified. "Uh—no, Ryou isn't with us."
Bakura cursed again.
"Have either of you seen him recently?"
"I stopped by your apartment earlier this morning to make sure he was alright." There was something in Malik's voice Bakura didn't like.
"What?" he demanded. "What are you not telling me?"
"I visited him," Malik continued, "Because Marik said he was acting pretty scary. I thought I'd make sure he wasn't too down, but when I let myself in—"
"Let yourself in?"
"We swiped a key, asshole. When I let myself in it sounded like he was having a nightmare." Here Malik paused.
"And?" asked Bakura through gritted teeth.
"And I thought maybe he might try to hurt himself. Like last time."
There was an icy silence.
It was Bakura's turn to remember.
The image of Ryou lying crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, bleeding, gasping in sudden pain. Nobody had pushed him down those stairs. He'd "tripped over his own feet," he said. Always so clumsy.
Next he saw Ryou in the kitchen, standing over a pile of broken glass. Another accident, more blood. More blood than there should have been dripping down his arm.
Always falling ill. Always finding a way to hit his head or scratch his arms or—
"Bakura?"
"Hm?"
"How long has he been gone?"
"I don't know," Bakura snarled. "I just got back to the apartment. I've been here maybe fifteen minutes. There's no sign of him anywhere. Not even a fucking note."
"We'll help you look," Malik replied. "I can ask around and see if anyone from his class has seen him. I'll send Marik out to check the streets."
From the other line Bakura could hear Marik shouting in protest.
"Tell that dick I don't want his help," hissed Bakura. "Tell him he's helped enough."
"Would you two stop it?" Malik was raising his voice. "This isn't the time to bitch at each other. If Ryou's acting weird again we'd better damn well find him before he does something fucked up. Bakura," now Malik was turning the tables and interrogating the yami, "What did you do to make him run away?"
"I didn't do anything!"
"Bullshit," Malik argued. "Marik told me you came home piss drunk the other day and whipped your dick out while he was trying not to choke to death."
"That's none of your fucking business!" Bakura roared.
"Like hell it isn't. We're your fucking friends. Friends don't let friends rape each other."
Bakura inhaled sharply. It took all of his strength to resist throwing his phone across the room and smashing it to bits.
"I know you were plastered," Malik continued, "But your probably freaked him out."
Marik said something on the other line and Malik shot back, "Yea, and when you do I give you fucking hell the next day. But Ryou's a lamb. He's a—a creampuff." Bakura winced. "He's not going to stand up for himself."
"We're wasting time," said Bakura, coldly. He was walking towards the front door now. "I'm going to look for him. Malik, will you come over and wait in the apartment, in case he comes back while I'm gone?"
"On my way. Marik can stay here, in case Ryou's on his way to our place."
Bakura cringed at the thought of Ryou running into Marik, the two of them alone again. He could already picture Ryou's stupid, doe-eyed look of fear, his lip quivering like a child.
"Put Marik on the phone," Bakura ordered.
"I didn't hear a please."
"Put Marik on the phone Malik!"
A moment later Marik's voice purred, "Hey baby, how can I help?"
"Fuck you." Bakura was locking his front door now. Did Ryou have a key? Better not chance it. He unlocked it again and started down the stairs. "What did you do?"
"Me? Why do you think I did anything?"
"You were with him the other night! You had him curled up on your lap like a-a dog! What were you doing?"
"I stopped by to see you. We were just killing time until you arrived. As I recall the last time I saw Ryou was when I took him to the doctor yesterday afternoon."
Bakura stopped in his tracks. "What?"
"Again, I drop by to see you and instead all I find poor little Ryou slowly rotting away. He needed a doctor you asshole, not cough medicine."
"Screw you!" Bakura spat. "I know how to take care of him."
"Really," Marik drawled. "Is that why he ran away?"
"He didn't run away from me," Bakura argued. Now he was at the bottom of the stairs.
"He told me I should have let you kill him," Marik replied, and the weight of his words settled in Bakura's chest. "Now, I don't know about you, but if my suicidal hikari were missing instead of scouring the streets I'd check the roof. Wouldn't you agree?"
Bakura's right eye twitched. Marik's smugness only made him angrier, and the angrier he became the more apt he was to do something he'd regret.
"Remember Bakura," Marik articulated softly, "You're the one who wanted total control." Malik must have already stepped out. Marik's entire tone was different. Cool and cruel. "You wanted to be the hero."
"And you are a lying, sneaky, son-of-a-bitch," Bakura spat back. "This is all your fault. You fucked him up!"
"Aw, did I play too rough with your little boy toy? All the Kings' horses and all the King's men couldn't put Ryou together again?"
"You were just supposed to scare him not…"
"I couldn't help myself. I've always had a sweet tooth."
"You're sick."
"He's the one that's sick, oh friend of mine. Are you sure you even want to find him?"
Instead of replying, Bakura hung up and ran right back up the stairwell. Their building was only twelve stories tall, but Bakura sprinted the entire way, two steps at a time. He began to recall old movie dates and late-night walks, holding hands. All the cutesy, stupid crap that Ryou had been so eager to experience when they'd first begun.
Ryou was so young—not legally, but mentally. He was still so naïve. It was part of what drew Bakura to him. It was addicting—intoxicating to hold someone so trusting and full of affection in the palm of your hand. It was almost too easy at times but exhausting at others. Frustrating. He always had to watch what he said and how he said it, lest he hurt Ryou's feelings. He couldn't share with Ryou the sort of lecherous fun he shared with Marik. Despite the other man's crime towards his hikari, Bakura still enjoyed his twisted company. At least with Marik, Bakura could let his own demons out to play.
Living with Ryou was like living in a house of glass, he thought. No room for debauchery or roughhousing, not like with Malik and Marik. Those two were evenly matched. They could tear each other to pieces and be fine the next day, but Ryou was weak. Ryou was made of soap bubbles and cotton candy. Bakura couldn't stomach cotton candy every day. Too much sugar makes a person sick.
Even while it seemed Ryou wanted nothing more than to cater to Bakura's every wish there were certain favors the boy was never eager to share, and with every rejection Bakura felt himself grow angrier and angrier—not necessarily at Ryou, but at himself. What was so unappealing about him? What had he ever done to earn this mistrust? It gets to a person—even if they don't consciously recognize it: constant rejection. What were words of love when actions spoke otherwise?
All of these thoughts and feelings he tried to suppress because they made him feel weak, and that was what Bakura hated most. His own weakness revolted him. Perhaps that's why he'd been so attracted to Ryou. Ryou made him feel strong, gave him power and control. But that control was starting to slip away.
By the time he reached the top he was practically out of breath. He took a moment to regain his composure before throwing his shoulder against the heavy door and stepping outside into the night.
It was a pleasant Spring evening, but up on the roof a chilly wind whipped Bakura's hair about, blinding him momentarily. He pushed his bleached locks aside and squinted into the semi-darkness.
There.
A figure stood on the opposite side of the roof. It must have been inches from the edge of the building.
"Ryou!" he called.
The figure remained motionless, except for the rustle of its clothing.
"Ryou?" he called again as he strode forward. No response.
"Answer me Ryou!" Bakura ordered, now close enough to verify his suspicion. It was Ryou, but not as Bakura had expected him. Ryou stood with his back to Bakura, facing the city below and the stars above, his body draped in a thin blanket. To protect himself from the cold wind, Bakura assumed, until Ryou turned around and Bakura realized, with a mixture of shock, dread, and arousal that the boy was naked.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bakura asked, looking the boy up and down.
Ryou still didn't answer. Instead he took a step closer to the edge of the building and Bakura tensed.
"Don't be stupid Ryou," he warned, moving towards the boy. "Whatever you think is happening, you're wrong. You're sick. You're feverish or on the wrong meds. Don't move—"
Ryou inched closer to the edge again and Bakura froze. He was really beginning to panic.
"Are you trying to kill yourself?" he demanded, hotly. He could not longer hide his fear. It leaked out through his eyes and shaky hands. "Are you seriously going to do this?"
Ryou didn't respond, but he didn't scoot closer to the edge. He was watching Bakura steadily.
"Look," Bakura was grasping for a strategy. How to win the boy over this time? "I'm sorry," he tried. "I'm sorry I yelled at you and walked out. Ok?"
Ryou's expression seemed to soften, but he neither spoke nor moved. Bakura continued apologizing, even though it sent a spike of disgust through his heart. Him, apologizing to this a child. He was ashamed at his own weakness, but he continued to repent.
"I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I got mad at you for letting Marik in the apartment. I didn't want him to hurt you." He was taking baby-steps towards the boy as he spoke. Just a few more feet and he'd be able to grab the hm.
"'I'm sorry…I'm sorry I…I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you when he did hurt you." That one took the most strength he could muster, because it was his biggest failure. What a disgusting coward he was.
Ryou hadn't been expecting this apparently, because his expression shifted into one of confusion. Finally he spoke.
"But you did save me."
Bakura closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again to look at Ryou they were filled with pity.
"No Ryou. I didn't. By the time I tried to save you it was too late. I let him hurt you."
Ryou frowned, but didn't argue. Bakura took another step closer.
"I appreciate your apologies," said Ryou, "but those are just words, aren't they?"
"Just words?" Bakura barked.
"Yes," Ryou continued. Then he did something Bakura hadn't anticipated. He closed the distance between them. Instinctively Bakura clamped his hands around the boy's arms and drew him away from the ledge, digging his fingers hard into the boy's boney flesh. Ryou winced, but didn't struggle. When Bakura was satisfied with their distance from the building's edge he gave Ryou a shake, bringing their faces together.
"What the hell is this Ryou? You wanted me to stop you from jumping, right? You wanted me to weep at your feet and beg you not to leave me? What more do you want from me? Chocolates? Tears? Promises? What the fuck do you want?"
Ryou remained uncharacteristically composed. "I didn't come up here to kill myself. I came up here because I want you to make a decision," he replied, gaze never wandering from his yami's fiery eyes.
"Whether or not I should lock you up in an insane asylum?" Bakura scoffed.
"You've probably noticed I'm naked."
"Really? I hadn't a clue."
"You're hurting my arms."
"Good," Bakura snapped, but he let go. Ryou made no attempt to run, although his fear was starting to show. The boy's whole body was trembling—although that could easily be attested to his lack of clothing.
"I know you want me Bakura," the boy said, and again Bakura was taken aback.
"Were you expected me to come up here and fuck you?" Bakura sneered.
"I'm inviting you to."
"Liar."
"Sex on a roof," Ryou pressed on, "Doesn't appeal to you? Under the stars. Out in he open air. We could get caught. Maybe even arrested. Doesn't that turn you on?"
Bakura gaped.
"Who are you and what have you done with Ryou?"
"Either you have me here," Ryou replied, "Or we go back downstairs and do what we usually do."
Bakura faltered. Ryou was right. He did want to take the boy, right here, right now. He was always ready, and especially now. It had been days since their last sexual interaction. He could feel himself already rock hard. He gave Ryou another appraisal. The boy was obviously not as excited.
"That's what you want? You want to have sex on this roof?"
"I said I want you to decide whether we do or not."
"But if you don't want it," Bakura argued, "Then I don't want it."
"I think you do want it."
"Well of course I want it," he snapped back. "But I don't want to have it like that. I want you to want me, damn it. You always pull away and close your eyes. What the hell did I ever do to deserve that?" It was all tumbling out before he could stop it. "You'll let me tickle you but not touch you. Feed you but not pleasure you or myself. You're nothing but a goddamn tease!"
Ryou looked sad, but he didn't defend himself. Instead he let the blanket fall to the ground.
"I'm right here. I won't fight you. I won't close my eyes or pull away or do any of those things. If this is what you want, take it."
Bakura sized the boy up, staring at him for the longest time, but Ryou waited patiently. His body was shaking more violently now, though he made no attempt to cover himself with his arms. He stood completely open, completely vulnerable but making every attempt to appear neutral.
Finally Bakura looked away. It appeared as if he were about so shout or throw a fit, maybe even throw a punch.
Instead, without a word he picked up the discarded blanket and wrapped it around the boy's shoulders, pulling him close and enveloping him in a vice-like embrace.
"What I want," he murmured, "Is for you to want me just as much as I want you."
"…You frighten me," Ryou whispered back, although he made no move to pull away. Instead he lifted his head to plant a soft kiss on Bakura's neck. The combination stung and again guilt and shame consumed the older one. He almost said something cruel in response, but bit his tongue. Instead he asked, "Is that why you hurt yourself?"
Ryou stiffened. Bakura waited but the boy remained silent. The two stood like that for a few more moments, paralyzed.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity Bakura let out a large sigh, and with it the remainder of his anger. Empty, practically deflated he said quietly, his usual edge gone, "Let's get you inside. You're sick, remember?" Ryou nodded and silently both boys trudged down the stairs and to their apartment.
Malik was waiting for them.
"What the hell?" He raised an eyebrow at Ryou. "Please tell me you didn't get mugged."
"I'm fine," Ryou assured.
"Found him moon-bathing on the roof," Bakura muttered. "Thought he'd give me a little surprise."
"Oh really?" Malik smirked. "Is that what this is? You two had your own private rooftop party? And here I was worried sick you might be dead—or worse!"
"I'd never let that happen," Bakura said quietly, glancing at Ryou. The boy offered him a small smile. "Yea," he agreed. "Thankfully, I have Kura to keep me out of trouble."
Seemingly satisfied, Malik said his good-byes and the other two boys found tasks with which to busy themselves. Ryou put on some pajamas and made a cup of tea. Bakura changed as well, making them each a cup of instant ramen. They ate in silence, each mulling over the nights events.
"Its getting late," Bakura said, finally breaking the silence. "Aren't you tired?"
"No." The two locked eyes for one tense moment but Bakura made no move to punish the boy for his insolence. Ryou continued, crossing the room to throw their empty cups in the trash, "I've been sleeping so much lately, I feel wide awake."
"Do you want to…watch a TV, or something?" Bakura inquired, awkwardly.
"Actually," he glanced back nervously. "I was thinking we could try something else…"
Bakura narrowed his eyes slightly. "You mean…?"
"Yes."
"And you want to?"
Ryou drew nearer, shyly. "I want to try…I want to want you. I mean—I don't want to be afraid. I think if you could just…show me what its like to enjoy it…" He blushed. "I'm sorry if this sounds insulting. I don't mean it to."
"I know." Bakura stood, smoothing wrapping his arms around the boy's waist. "I can do that, but you have to trust me."
"And you have to be patient with me," Ryou added. "And not get angry. Deal?"
Bakura looked as if were fighting the urge to retort with a snide remark. He swallowed it. "I'll do my best. Will you try to be more careful? I don't think your body could handle any more accidents."
Ryou suddenly looked guilty. He bowed his head.
"Part of me did want to jump off the roof," he confessed, tears boiling over the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry. I just want you to l—"
But Bakura silenced him with a firm kiss. "I do love you Ryou," he whispered into Ryou's ear, his voice like velvet. "Will you let me show you just how much?"
Nervous but determined Ryou nodded and before he knew it he'd been swept off the floor and into the bedroom.
There was no guarantee that after this night things would really change, no guarantee Ryou would stop having accidents, no guarantee Bakura would actually change his controlling ways, but whether they did or not Ryou was bound to Bakura, and Bakura to Ryou.
For better or worse, the boy thought, as Bakura's hands began to snake their way under his clothing. He completes me.
There was no escaping it. Ryou knew he would crave Bakura's love for the rest of his life, even if it did drive him to jump off the roof. Bakura knew he would probably never be able to handle the boy without hurting him.
But that was the price both were willing to pay.