I'm baaaaack! Okay, to those of you who read 'Save Me' (I'm sorry you had to go through that) I will put up an epilogue... just not now. I had the sudden urge to write this so I did. Plain and simple. Anywho, this is the 1915 thing I talked about so yeah...

Ashuri chan I know we made a deal, BUT I kinda had a bad spout of inspiration.... Sorry? I PROMISE I will get out an epilogue sooner or later! Sorry again... Anywho, if you guys have not read her story "Wedding Blues", DO SO! It is so friggin' awesome! DO IT, I SAY!

Information: Set in New York during about 1915-ish (with a bit more modern twist). This will focus on the movement of the surrealism art (think like Salvador Dali if you know who he is) in the states. The title is from the Queen song, but is not related (I don't own the title, just to be safe) Anywho, here it is, the next Seto/Ryou fic from ragdoll, Bohemian Rhapsody!

Disclaimer: Cain: ragdoll does not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or any other Movie/song/book that may have inspired or can be related to this work of fiction. She owns nothing, not even her black, little soul...

(sigh) And there will be shonen-ai (boys being in love with one another), maybe some rude words, past Ryou/Malik, AU, references to old paintings and people (don't worry, you don't need to know anything) and a surrealistic Ryou...

Words you need to know:

surrealism: the principles, ideals, or practice of producing fantastic or incongruous imagery or effects in art, literature, film, or theater by means of unnatural juxtapositions and combinations

Bohemian: a person (as a writer or an artist) living an unconventional life

Rhapsody: a highly emotional utterance (2) : a highly emotional literary work (3) : effusively rapturous or extravagant discourse

Chapter One: Beautiful Birds

Ryou's POV

I remember the day before everything happened, before he was thrown into my life, before I fell in love. I remember the pain he brought along with the joy he could cause and the memories he would resurrect along with the ones he created. I remember tears and laughter, I remember colorless worlds and broken dreams, but most of all, I remember the smile that I only I could put on his face. The smile that I could never capture on canvas despite my countless attempts.

The smile that I fell in love with.

It all began from the end of what I had thought was my new beginning. What I thought would start my life over in this unfamiliar city just as I had planned.

Malik Ishtar.

It really just began as some romantic notion that had devoured my brain while on the journey from overseas. Simple really: I would come to this new city where I could find acceptance, my career as an artist would allow me to live off more than bread and water, and I would find love. Even if every other plan were to fail, I wanted nothing but love. Maybe I was a fool to think of such things when I really should have focused on matters like food, housing, and a steady income, but how could I not? I was going to America, the land of opportunity. Not only would I be in America, I was going to New York, "the city that never sleeps", as my ship-companions referred to it. I was going to a place where it was okay to be nothing more than an artist. I was getting away from my strict childhood to my new free life.

Everything was perfect. The day I turned eighteen, I boarded the ship (much to my father's many protests) and began my journey. The trip overseas was rather uneventful, nothing like the novels you would read about in libraries where great storms come and people where thrown overboard. No, the water was calm and my fellow passengers were kind and gentle. We would share stories of Arthur and his knights and dreams of love and freedom to pass the time. Every night, as soon as the sun had disappeared over the horizon, forcing my companions and me to migrate back to the stale air that only belonged under deck, we would pull out trunks and wrap up in spare blankets to gather around and exchange such stories. Every night, someone else would share their story, their dreams. Even I had shared mine one night. It was during these time that I was taught that everyone wanted something different: fortune, fame, freedom... love. It seemed that everyone was after love. Some were looking to heal old wounds, some were looking to start over again, and some where simply just wanting to make a start in their life, even if it possibly to end in pain too. But that didn't matter because those people (me included) were young and did not know of the downside of such matters. We were simply looking for the joy we were so sure could only be brought by love. I really was so naive then. But then again, I was naive when I met him.

It really was chance that I met Malik. It was shortly after my arrival in New York and I was searching in vain for anything suitable as a place of shelter until I could start to work. Unfortunately, I didn't have much money considering my father refused to fund me in any way what-so-ever. So here I was, a shy boy in a huge city with no where to go. Rather desperate for a place to live, I came across tiny apartment-like building. Sure, it wasn't the most luxurious of places, but it would do. There, I met my 'neighbor', Tristan, who was working on a theatrical script. I'm still not really sure what it was about. Tristan happens to be very indecisive... That poor story had been revised so many times that not even Tristan was really sure what it was about anymore... Despite that, it turned out that he was quite popular in the artistic culture and knew practically everybody who as did as much as stepped foot in the city. To say that he was excited to meet me may very well be the understatement of the year.

"Hello! I'm Tristan! Who are you? Is that a paintbrush? Are you an artist? Wow, I know a lot of artists. Would you like to come over for some tea?"

Sure, he wasn't like that all the time, but that was enough, trust me. He was very... different form what I was used to. But then again, that was the point of my voyage, was it not? Sure, he may not be conventional, but he soon became my best friend. Despite his little quirks and odd tendencies, he was loyal and would do anything to make his friends happy. I guess that's kind of how I got in such a position...

After a few months of Tristan as my constant companion, I learned a lot about the city and it's inhabitants. Tristan seemed to know everybody and he appeared to have his heart set on being able to say the same for me. Everyday, I was introduced to another friend of his and everyday, I was thrown into their new world of new ideas. They called it surrealism. "A new style of art," they would say "and a culture where you're allowed to be whatever you wish."

Tristan was absolutely obsessed with the idea of the surrealist culture, always claiming that it was the only place he would be able to be himself. I honestly didn't understand what he had meant, but that comes later. It was during one of the before mentioned meetings that I met Malik.

He was perfect. He was beautiful, he was smart, he was a writer. It didn't matter that he was a man. "That's a part of the Bohemian life," Tristan would always reassure me, "to not be afraid of what you are or who you love." I think that's why I had always looked up to Tristan; he was always so fearless.

It didn't take long for me to fall head over heels for Malik. I was shy and quiet as where he was outspoken and lively. He always knew just what to say, just what to do. Whenever I was lonely, he was there to comfort me. I thought he could do no wrong.

I really was naive.

Of course it didn't last. One day, with no reason, he just left. Didn't give give an explanation or anything, just left. I, of course, blamed myself. It was the only comfort I had, the knowledge that he at least left for something. Tristan would often disagree with that and try to persuade me that it was really because Malik wasn't the one. Now that I look back on what was about to happen, I guess it was true. But I didn't know that then. Even if I had, it didn't matter, the pain was still there. And the later acquired knowledge that he had met a beautiful girl and was engaged to her after only knowing her for a grand total of three weeks didn't really help matters. Tristan would blame himself for introducing us, I would blame myself for not being perfect, and Malik would be happy with some French beauty. And that's how it was. Tristan eventually got out of his slump when he met a certain Duke Devlin, but I never really recovered, at least not until I met him.

It happened when I had been forced out of my room by Tristan. "You have not been out of this room for three weeks. I don't care what you say, it's not healthy. You are going to go outside, forget about Malik, and you're going to enjoy it!" And with that, I was slammed out of my own house with only one my art supplies and my jacket. Come to think about it, I never did thank Tristan for that...

Deciding to make the best of what I thought was a bad situation, I made my way to the coast. Having grown up no where near the water, I had a strong fascination with the ocean. I know it's probably the wrong thing to be fascinated by, but I was always amazed by how on-going it was. I could stare out from a dock for hours, not really looking at anything in particular, just staring. Everything that had to do with the ocean was beautiful: the sky, the animals, but most of all, the blue depth. It was one of the few things I could depend on to never change in this fast-paced city: the water was always blue.

I placed my coat out smoothly onto the ground before sitting down atop of it. I sat stiffly, trying to calm down. When I think back on it, I don't remember exactly what I was upset about... All I know is that it was about Malik, of course. Tristan once described me as "a person who craves the drama, so I hold onto the things until it causes me to waste away". When he told me this, I brushed it off and told him that I needed to be alone. I wasn't about to admit that he was right, especially to his face. But deep down, I knew he was right. I felt myself sigh as I layed my head back and stared at the birds over head.

When I was first introduced to the ocean, I fell in love with the sea dwelling birds. I thought they were the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. They were so strong and free; I wanted to be just like them and not this weak, shy, little kid. Much to my delight, when we landed on shore, there were tons of the beautiful birds everywhere. I thought this must have been the greatest city in the world if all those beautiful birds chose this place to stay. I never shared my obsession with anyone else simply because it was my personal feelings. I never had liked letting people know how I felt because then they could hurt me. The only person I had told about my little secret was Malik. I remember it was after he had taken me to see a play Tristan had gotten us tickets for. He had offered to walk me back to my apartment when we passed a flock of the birds.

"Aren't they beautiful?" I questioned in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" he lifted his head and looked over to what I was pointing to. "The seagulls?"

"If that's what they're called, then yes." I answered, still entranced by the scene.

"I hate to break it to you, but they're only seagulls. There's nothing particularly great about them. As a matter of fact, most people hate them. They're really quite common. Why do you ask?" He answered while slowly pulling me along.

Only seagulls? How can they be "only seagulls"? I thought they were the greatest things in the world. "Don't you find them just a little bit pretty?" I asked hopefully.

"I guess in that common sort of way," he answered shortly, still pulling me forward. At that point, I never really let the conversation get to me. I guess I should have taken it as a sign or something, but I didn't. I simply just put back on my happy face and allowed him to lead me home. How could he not be the one for me? I wanted to believe in everything, choosing to only focus on the kind things he did as opposed to insensitive actions that were rather common. So, as opposed to letting the conversation of the night before to sink in, I chose to focus on the fact that he came bearing a small gift for me the next day. It was nothing special, just a small wooden toy carved into bird. I thought it was the most perfect thing in the world. I wrapped a blue ribbon around it and tied it neatly onto my paint case. I never parted from the toy, even after he had left me. I guess I'm glad I didn't. Without it, things may have never played out as well as they did.

While I sat pondering over the the past I refused to let go, I unconsciously played with the small wooden toy, not noticing my surroundings or the fact that I suddenly acquired company in my desolate area.

"That's a rather interesting toy. It's seagull, is it not?" a strong voice suddenly awoke me from my thoughts. I looked over to my left to see a tall man staring out to the water.

"It was a gift from somebody who thought they loved me," I answered sullenly, looking back down to my hands.

"Thought they loved?" he questioned with a hint of curiosity in is monotone voice.

"Yeah, they thought they loved me, but they were wrong. I'm unlovable..." I trailed off uncertainly. It was unusual for me to even carry on a conversation with someone I had never met, non the less be this personal with them, but I just like to tell myself this was fate... or something like it.

"That's a pretty bold thing to say, don't you think?" he continued, never letting his eyes move from their position on the water. "Still, that's an still an interesting choice of animal, don't you think? Seagulls aren't exactly popular."

"I thought they were the most beautiful birds in the world. Then, I found the were only seagulls..." I answered, not really wanting to take this conversation any further. He must have taken the hint because he was quiet for a while. I sat back, still conscious of the fact that the odd man had yet to move from where he stood.

"Does that make them any less beautiful? Maybe they really are the most beautiful birds on the world and people people just take it for granted. Maybe they're too blind to see the beauty. Maybe that makes you special since you're the only one who can see it..." he mused quietly. I remained silent, not really even sure if I was supposed to be able to hear what he had said. "I'm Seto Kaiba. And you?" he inquired suddenly turning towards me for the first time.

"R-Ryou Bakura..." I answered uncertainly. He allowed a small smile to spread across his lips before sitting down beside me on the ground.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ryou Bakura." he said with a small trace of the smile still on his face. He had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. Don't ask me why I remembered that of all things, just that they were beautiful. They reminded me of the ocean, as cliche as that sounds. But it was true. They were deep and blue. The sort of eyes you could lost in while gazing into...

"I have seen you around a lot of the art gatherings lately. Are you an artist?" he asked while picking up a nearby rock and rubbing the smooth surface with his long fingers.

"Excuse me? Oh, an artist? Yeah, I guess you could say that..." I answered dumbly. I've never been that great at conversation... "As for you?"

He let a strained smile touch his lips again, as if trying to make the best out of a situation. "I'm the president of my company," he stated with the forced smile still in place.

"Really? But you're so young, you can't be much older than I am," I stated without thinking about it. Sometimes, I really do let my curiosity get the best of me...

"It's a long story... " was all he cared to supply. Taking the hint, I closed my mouth and went back to playing with my toy, throughly embarrassed. Sure, I may have been with the outgoing Malik, but that didn't heal my of my shy tendencies..."Well, I guess that's my sign to leave." He stated at the sight of a large ship coming in to dock.

"Are you leaving the country?" I asked in what I hoped was a comical way. Hopefully getting the joke and not laughing at my stupidity, he grinned down at me.

"Actually, no. I just had a shipment coming in for my company. I thought it would be best to meet the ship personally instead of sending the morons that work for me after it," he supplied with an air of annoyance at having to waste his time outside when he could be working. "It was a pleasure speaking to you, Ryou Bakura. I hope we have the fortune to meet again." and with a bow, he was gone, making his way to the now unloading ship. I looked back down at the toy in my hand, smiling to myself for no reason.

Suddenly, for no reason, the seagulls were beautiful again.

Oooookay. I hated that. I hated it bad. I think I'll probably take this down, maybe rewrite it, maybe forget about it. Who knows? (sigh) Cain, what have you gotten me into this time?

Cain: Me? I didn't force you into this. You were the one with the "sudden inspiration"... dork...

Oh, be quiet... BTW, I really do like Malik and have nothing against him, I just needed someone to break Ryou's heart... Anywho, I found this quote about seagulls and it this entire thing popped into my head and then mutated itself with my 1915 idea creating this lump of a chapter... I hate it... But anywho, please review! I'm not really expecting any... but they would be nice... anything really... PLEASE, OH PLEASE! I just need something... tell me if you hate, if it made you want to puke, if it gave you headache, anything! Please oh please review! Anywho, I'm tired so, TOODLES