Anger. Raw, unbridled anger. The feeling was so clear, like looking into a crystal lake. Yet it simmered low. Logically, there was no longer a good reason to keep this anger and allow it to continue to fester within.
Anger. So long had it been a constant. It was familiar. These days, there isn't much that can be said for. Nothing else makes sense, but anger was always there, always ready to fuel its bearer.
Anger. It got harder to keep it going as time passed by. Kind gestures and friendly smiles that opposed imagined slights were like dams built to contain the raging waters. Memory demanded a violent boil, but the present was changed and insisted upon changing into a calm future.
Anger. There had never been shame in anger. Other emotions were the ones that brought on shame. Anger was what was expected. Anger was strength and brought out the fear that kept the others away. Any other emotion was a weakness, but living on anger alone was taking its toll.
Anger. No longer was it the truth. It had become a defensive lie to act as a shield from the outside. Anger was a tool of isolation. The steam from the boil for so long had been enough to keep it up, but recently the cloak had been deflating. With the anger went the fear. Fear had been respect. Now there was nothing.
He was nothing.
The moment they had first laughed at him, it became abundantly clear.
Nothing. He left. He was never even there. They could do all the nonsense they wanted, but he would have none of it.
He was nothing. Without anger, there was no more left besides a snide remark and a half-hearted sneer.
Anger. He wanted so desperately to feel anger over what they had done to him. They had reduced him to nothing with their idiotic laughter. He could not. With a sigh, he was deflated—left not to simmer but to sulk.
He was nothing.
"Bakura!"
No.
"Hey, Bakura!"
Don't make it worse. Don't you dare do something kind to dig me down even deeper. Everything you do makes a mockery of my anger. Don't come near me. You made me nothing.
"Bakura, why did you just leave like that? Everyone is worried, or at least Ryou, Yugi, and I are."
"That's not my name."
"What?"
"That's not my name, Atem, and you should know that."
"What does that have to do with anything? Just come back and stop worrying your light. Gods, why I even volunteered to come get you is beyond me. You're insufferable as ever."
"Then go back. Send someone else because mean old 'Bakura' was nasty to you."
"I'm not going back without you."
"Then call me by my name. Don't call me 'Bakura' or 'tomb robber.' Humanize me. Call me by my name and make me a person. Bring me down to your level, Atem."
Anger. A different kind. He didn't know why he was doing this. Never had he desired to be on the same level as those around him. Time and time again he referred to them as idiots or mortals.
They were something. He was nothing. He clung to his level as the only identity he could ever have, but in the end, no identity remained. He was nothing.
Bring me down. Bring me down to the realm of something.
"Bakura, thing is ridiculous."
Bring me down. Bring me down.
"Quit staring at me like that. What is wrong with you?"
Do it already. Stop fidgeting. You're not distressed. Say my name.
"Let's go back already."
Silence. It was coming.
"Akefia."
Akefia was someone. It showed on his face. Akefia went back to the others with Atem. He was not Bakura nor the Thief King. Bakura was nothing. Akefia was something. He was something now, and he had no plans of letting that go. Some caught on quickly, like Akefia's light. Others were slow. They were ignored.
He was something.
Akefia was able to make snarky remarks in good humor and tease Atem. Bakura had only been able to sulk and resent the Pharaoh.
Akefia had not realized it, but he was not the only one brought down.
Yami was no longer Yami nor the Pharaoh. He was Atem. Bakura brought down Yami. Atem reluctantly returned the favor. It was hard to believe that he had ever made a better decision.
Now they could be something, no longer forced to live as who they were for so long. Bakura and Yami treated each other with silent anger that simmered until it became violent. Akefia and Atem bickered like old rivals, smirks plastered across their faces whenever they went at it.
They were something.
It all appeared to happen so fast. Some of the others were reluctant to accept it or even suspected foul play. Their lights were always the first to accept and understand. They would do their best to help the others to understand as well.
The others' reaction didn't bother Atem or Akefia. Yami or Bakura would not have handled it well, but Yami and Bakura had been deflated. They had moved on and left change in their wake. They were nothing. They were done. There had been no more room left in the world for them.
Together, they became something.
Anger. It still remained. No matter how much the present changed, the past would never be forgotten entirely. There was more to them than bickering and smirks. There was always a somberness that came with reminders of who they really were, who they had been. Sometimes their brawls were once again fueled by the anger of the past. Other times, when passions rose too high, it became confusing and the both of them left frustrated.
Why did they spend so much time around the other? They questioned themselves constantly.
Anger had been familiar, but anger had been silenced.
To Akefia, Atem was familiar. To Atem, Akefia was familiar. The two were always there. Past, present, future. Always there. Always a constant.
With the welcoming heat of anger gone, all they had left was each other.