It's times like these when I just stare out the window, watching the rain fall from the dark sky, and remember that day. The day I met that boy, an exact look alike of me. I just sit here, in the dark, and cry for no reason at all. I always wonder why I cry on rainy, gloomy days such as this. I mean, I'm not in that predicament anymore.
Bakura walked down the darkened streets aimlessly. He rested against the wall to an already closed shop. He looked up to the black sky as the water drops fell and drenched him from head to toe. He stayed against the wall for sometime before spotting a park across the street. He stood up and winced from his wounds. He pressed his hand across his naked side in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
He limped weakly down the empty streets, breathing heavily and shivering. He pushed himself to walk a few more blocks before he fell to the ground. He landed on his bleeding side and cried out from pain. To alleviate the pain, Bakura slowly flipper himself only to roll over into a flooding barred street drain. The white haired teen just laid there, freezing, as he blocked the water drain. He knew he was too weak to get up, so he just decided to stay there. He stared up to the sky again as the water drops covered him, remembering what happened earlier that day.
Bakura walked into his house to see his parents drunk and laughing at something on the small television in the living room. Bakura greeted them as he walked into the house and set down his backpack. He eyed his parents, alert. He made his way to the kitchen when they both stood up. Bakura paused at the kitchen door and readied himself for the inevitable beating he would be receiving.
He was used to their beatings. Bakura knew he had nothing to fear because they never went as far as to seriously hurt him or kill him because they were already in enough trouble with the police as it was. Bakura just stood there as they did the normal routine of tackling him, ripping his clothes to shreds, and beating him with their fists. His father, though, noticed that his son didn't react to their 'severe' beatings anymore.
He smirked as his wife kept on beating their son. Bakura's father grabbed one of their empty bottles and slammed it against the side table. Bakura's eyes widened at the sound of shattering glass and looked past his mother to see his father walking towards him with the broken bottle, an evil grin on his face. Bakura looked fearfully at his so called father as he stopped in front of him. He picked him up and used the bottle to slash his side. Bakura cried out in pain. Tears threatened to pour from his eyes, but he held them back.
His father laughed drunkenly at his new found way to hurt his son. He slashed his son across his face. He then kept on slashing him over and over until his body was littered with scratches that would surely leave scars. The deepest wound , however, was still the one on his side. Bakura cried out throughout the abuse, but never let his forming tears fall. He would never give his parents the satisfaction.
I took their beatings for hours from pipes, wood boards, and more. They seemed to find a use for every household item. Bakura looked out the window to see night had fallen and that it was raining. It was as if the sky was crying for him. Bakura felt the beating had stopped. He tried to get up thinking his father was done, but was surprised when his mother held him in place and smiled evilly at him. His father walked over to him and slowly removed Bakura's pants and boxers. Bakura's eyes widened again and he began struggling in his mother's grip. Bakura screamed and yelled trying again and again to be released from his mother. His father had already dropped his pants and was readying himself at his son's innocence about to plunge in.
Bakura kept struggling and suddenly kicked his father in the balls with out noticing. His father cried out in pain. Bakura's mother jumped, frightened by her husbands howl of pain. Bakura took that chance to run away. He grabbed his pants and ran out the house trying put his pants back on. He ran down the street as fast as he could. He didn't even want to look back.
Bakura laid in the drain as the cold rain numbed his pain. He faintly heard footsteps coming toward him. He jumped when he felt someone pull him out of the drain. He opened his eyes and found an exact look alike of him staring worriedly. He jumped and attempted to struggle, thinking it was his father. His look alike jumped back in surprise and tried to calm him down.
"Hey, It is alright. I am not going to hurt you."
Bakura stopped struggling as he heard the soft, melodic voice of the boy above him. Bakura realized he didn't feel the pounding of the rain drops on him anymore. The boy was covering him with a large umbrella and was holding out his hand for him to take.
"Come on." he said. "You are hurt."
Bakura felt the boy's soft voice warm his whole body. He looked at the pale hand of the worried boy and took it. The boy helped him up and had Bakura lean on his shoulder as they began their walk across the street
'W-Where are you taking me?' Bakura rasped, cautiously.
The boy simply smiled at Bakura's cautiousness and replied. "I am taking you to my home."
Bakura stayed quiet for the rest of the walk. They soon came up to a small house. The boy walked up the 3 stairs, pulling Bakura into the small house and sat him down on the couch. Bakura looked around the small home feeling out of place. The boy came back with a first aid kit.
Bakura looked at him surprised. "How did you know I was hurt?" he asked.
The boy smiled again and replied. "There was a trail of blood on the sidewalk. There was no one around. I figured it was from you."
Bakura was once again silent as the boy tended his wounds. Bakura looked out the window when the boy was done and finally let his tears out. They cascaded down his cut face as he watched the rain from the window. The boy looked at the teenager and let him cry as he put the first aid kit away.
I hear the click of the light switch turning on and someone walking into the room. The person wraps his hands around my waist and pulls me close as they lay their head against my back.
"Why are you crying, love?" the person asks.
I turn my head and give the person a chaste kiss on the lips. He replies to it just as sweetly. I pull away and smile at the innocent boy in my arms, tears still running down my face. I wrap my arms around the small boy in a hug and pull him to sit in my lap. He turns and wipes away my tears, smiles at me, and asks the question again.
I smile back , gazing into his beautiful,innocent eyes. "No reason, Ryou."
It's days like these when I look out the window and I wonder why I cry as it rains, but these times are also days where I wonder what would have happened if Ryou, the love of my life, hadn't stopped to help me that day.