A/N: This didn't quite turn out how I wanted it to... It was supposed to be Bakura just beating the shit out of Ryou. Now it's just Bakura being all angsty and beating the shit out of my heart ;n;

Oh well.

I'm going to be honest here. This took me like twenty minutes to write, so it most definitely isn't my best work (not that my work is good anyways because I'm actually trash). Either way, I hope someone somewhere will enjoy it?

This is Bakura's inner musings, I guess. I really don't know what the hell this is to be honest, but alas, here you go.

Smile

By Gewlface

Since I was a child, all I'd ever desired was to be loved. It was what I yearned for, what I needed with every ounce of my being. Yet the Gods were cruel, and this was something I was forced to learn at a young age; they denied me the love that I so required. From the very moment my family, my friends - my life - were torn from me, I was alone, so very alone, and I was left a shivering, desperate mess. Desperate for acceptance, desperate for touch, for care.

Not a single person would stay beside me, hold me nor tell me of my importance. All I ever asked for was this. I felt betrayed, betrayed by the Pharaoh, by the Gods, by everyone. I even felt betrayed by my own mother and father for dying and leaving me behind. So, my humanity abandoned, I became a monster. I allowed myself to become that which I most feared.

I became the darkness.

A rapist, a murderer, a thief. Such were the titles of someone who simply wanted to be loved, nothing more, nothing less.

As the villain, I wasn't allowed a happy ending. I lived a tragic life of pain and suffering, of immense agony and hatred, and eventually it was my downfall. To stand against the Pharaoh was a fight I was bound to lose from the very beginning, and deep down I knew this, yet I surged forward, ruthlessly attacking the one I blamed for my wretched and unjust existance. It was only natural that I would lose, and I accepted my death with open arms; death would bring me peace, would allow me to finally be free of the weight of sorrow.

Yet as I closed my eyes for what should have been the last time, the world did not fade from around me. I was still alive; alive whilst I was dead, that is. My mind lived on while my body was long since decayed, bound to a singular golden item.

And once again, I was overcome with this horrid wave of emotions. They drowned me, forced themselves under my figurative skin, controlled me from within. I was indignant, hurt, saddened and angry; angry beyond belief. Again, I thought; again the Pharaoh had denied me my happiness, again the Gods had betrayed me, again I was forced to live with this gross agony.

Even in death, I was the darkness, when all I ever wanted to be was the light.

Countless times was I summoned from the confines of my prison, the Millennium Ring. How ironic that the item that began this whole turn of events would become my home over the Millennia. Each and every time I was pulled back into the living world, people were repulsed by me, they never once accepted me. And each and every time I was thrown away, abandoned once more and sent back into that disgusting thing.

Eventually I came to cherish the Ring, for at least I wasn't alone inside of it, not completely. My family, my friends from childhood, they were all still inside. Melted into the gold, they lifelessly stayed by my side, and I liked to think that they loved me. But somewhere within my soul that was nothing but black, a voice was constantly whispering; they hate you; you left them all to die; you failed in avenging their deaths. And eventually I came to hate the Ring again.

And then my personal prison landed upon the hands of fragile little Bakura Ryou.

He was light, lighter than anything I'd ever seen. His soul was the icon of pure, his smile gentle and warm; welcoming. Opposite of myself, I envied him; we were so similar, yet so different, but only I was the one suffering. Like me, he'd lost his family at a young age, and he didn't have any friends growing up. I could sense how unloved he felt, yet still he stayed cheery and light, still he kept smiling.

Envy was my sin for this boy, for this Bakura Ryou. I hated him, I hated him so very much, and I did everything I could to break him. His fragileness should have made it easy.

I beat him. I tortured him. I called him degrading names. I killed people with his hands and forced him to watch. Gods, I tried so hard, so very hard, yet he never stopped smiling.

He smiled at me.

"Why?!" I'd shouted at him, at my wits' end. I wanted to pull out my hair, to scream and scream and scream until I couldn't scream anymore because for all the darkness within me, I couldn't put out his light. "Why do you never stop smiling?!"

Blood pooled from his nostrils, flowed from his parted lips, smeared across his angelic face and covered the floor and walls. It was everywhere, drenched every inch of his bedroom. His crimson-covered lips curled gently, his eyes staring back at me, dazed and unfocused and gentle. "B-because..." he whispered hoarsely, "you seem like... like you're s-so sad... and I don't want you to be..."

Flinching, I couldn't believe my ears. After all these years, these thousands of long, horrible years, someone cared for me, even despite all the havoc I'd caused.

I couldn't believe it.

"Liar," I hissed, clamping my hand around his slender little throat tightly. My ears drank in his gasps hungrily, urging me to clench tighter, tighter, tighter. "No one can love the darkness, Yadonushi."

Weakened arms flailed, hands clawing at mine, begging silently for mercy, for forgiveness. Lacking oxygen and overall strength, his movements grew slowly sluggish, and eventually he gave up, gazing into my narrowed eyes with his watery own.

As a tear slipped down his cheek, his pulse ceased throbbing under my fingers.

I noticed only moments later that he'd died with a sad smile gracing his bloody lips.

My translucent body faded into nothing, my soul being whisked away, stuffed back into that Ra forsaken Millennium Ring, for I no longer had a vessel; I no longer had my Yadonushi. Dead was he, dead by my own hands. In his crimson-splattered bedroom he would lay for who knows how long, as he had no family to find him, no friends.

Since I was a child, all I'd ever desired was to be loved. Yet I had killed the only person who could have ever offered me that.

And despite this, I never truly had succeeded in breaking the weak little boy that was Bakura Ryou.

And I wonder, just how weak does that make me?

A/N: Well, reading this over, it's really not that good. Whoops. But I'm too lazy to redo it, so whatever. This is honestly just a pointless drabble to help break my writing block for One in the Same. Which, by the way, worked and helped me write the next chapter (which I posted the other day).

Please review!

~Utsu