Confrontation
He was always alone. He needed to be.
His life was a series of accidents provoked by a mind that wasn't his own.
He had hoped the spirit would leave him when he lost the ring, but every once in a while he forgot what he had done for days…
There were times when he saw dull, angry eyes staring back at him in the mirror. His reflection changed, and he couldn't recognize the man in the mirror even though he knew it was him.
He couldn't drown the laughs that echoed in his ears as much as he wanted them to stop. He watched, terrified, the reflection before him.
It wasn't him, it wasn't he knew, but there was a sense of recognition fueling an increasing calmness in his chest. He slammed his fist against the mirror, the crack showing him his own scared face, and another with a crooked smile and daring eyes. He had stopped caring about the blood falling from his knuckles into the floor tiles. How long had it been since he had painted the floor red?
His chest ached, his left arm stung, his right hand couldn't move and a cold, lifeless, laugh would echo in the room as he ran his blood stained hand over his face.
The voice whispered, muttering things he could not understand and called his name, making him believe he had woken up from a nightmare. Did he hide in the depths of his mind? Was he turning insane?
Was he back?
His laughing turned louder and he laughed along with the memories running over his mind, laughed at his own stupidity.
He wasn't back–he couldn't–. He had disappeared. Poof. Gone.
He shivered, afraid that the depths of his minds wanted the other to return. When he was there he had never felt alone, was he crazy for missing him?
He wondered if the remains of his soul had died with him. If that had happened, then the soul that died with the body, it would have... was he...?
No. No. No.
But, oh. That made sense.
He could be the soul of the theft that lost everything. How were his pictures so vivid? They shared a body, but the feelings were too real, and he attributed it to his young mind. Could he be The Theft King Bakura himself? Was he what would have become of him had the tragedy of Kul Elna never happened? Had his deceased mother and sister been his family back then, was his father there, too?
Or was he becoming insane and all of this was stupid?
Had he grown in stupidity, he'd forget everything about it. Had Yuugi kept to himself that it was plausible, he would have believed that it was his tired mind playing stupid games with him, but, even in his wildest dreams, he knew that the voice started it.
-I'm not happy with what I've become.
Ever since, it never left his head, didn't let him sleep, stripped him down to all his fears. Was he talking about himself, or was he speaking to him? He was terrified to know.
Curiosity brought him to his own despair. He'd try talking to him, cursing under his breath as he stared into his reflection. The other was quiet.
-Bakura, please answer me...
He'd watch the man in the mirror smiling back at him.
-Did you really think that I would ever let you go?
He'd have new scars that would disappear unlike the oldest of them. The perfect circle. And he'd add seven years to his bad luck, he knew that if he was superstitious he wouldn't have dared. Fate had broken his hope of something as good as luck existing.
They were too much alike, when he thought about it.
The other was insane, and he was loosing his mind. The occult fascinated them, he was an artist and the other claimed his treachery was an art. They lost their family, friends, and the other also lost everything he had. Both resented a three thousand years old soul, the list could go on forever.
He started to wonder why the ring had felt so heavy between his hands.
They were stronger that anyone believed. In childhood Ryou could bear the ring, didn't turn to ashes like the ones before him. Before he lost the young one trust, he saw him as a little boy, with no one but his sister to call a friend. He saw only someone he needed to protect.
And the child grew up cold after loosing his mother and sister. Stopped smiling and started hearing the voices. And by the time the voices faded, he tried his best to bring them back, knowing that it would break him apart.
The moment he stopped recognizing himself in the mirror he'd take over. And he would break the mirror, fearing for the child's sanity as he stared at the broken shards before him that showed him the other's kind eyes, pleading him impossible things.
He'd feel a hole on the pitch of his stomach, his throat in a tight knot, and he'd run his had over the scars as he had seen the other do before.
He was afraid the child did so because he felt something was missing. He hoped not.
He, too, wondered if they were the same.
Fin
(This is totally my head-cannon) I know. I suck :)
The "Do you really think that I would ever let you go?" comes from the lyrics of Confrontation from the musical Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde.
C.C. Cr0ss.
––Edit: 22/07/2015––