Originally posted at yugioh_contest but this has been edited a bit since then.
This fic was inspired by a song called Share Today by LAPKO.
Late at night, they were laying on the bed, the older holding the younger close with the determined air of a man who has lost too many things in his life, knowing that this would be the one thing he would manage to keep. For he would not lose his host. No matter what.
On moments like this, when they were together, just the two of them, so close to one another, Bakura could almost fool himself into thinking that he possessed a body of his own.
The fleeting illusion of warmth when their lips met, the obvious softness of the hair he wished he could touch, how it spilled and spread all over the pillow in shining silvery tendrils. The careful, tender caress of Ryou's hands as they skimmed over his transparent skin. The beating of a heart in the chest pressed against his own.
The gentle smile on the other's face, illuminated by moonlight.
He liked to imagine how it would be like, to feel the actual warmth of the other's skin against his own. He thought about the stream of blood rushing through the veins of the person he held so dear.
The things they talked about, on nights like this. Small, mundane, even useless things they learned about each other.
Like the fact that Ryou always put the grey socks on the bottom of the drawer;
"Why the hell would you do that?"
"It's my favorite color and I want to save them for last!"
And that Bakura always put ham on top of the cheese when making a sandwich, a topic which had eventually lead to a full-fledged debate about the correct arrangement of foodstuffs on a slice of bread.
Years ago, Bakura would have never thought that he would someday know someone like his host. Someone like Ryou. Someone, who even now, after everything, offered his support, his hospitality, everything Bakura never thought to ask for, and ultimately, even his body.
Sharing a body. The idea always made Bakura grit his teeth. It was something he still had trouble accepting.
He was a parasite.
And parasites didn't share.
They take, they steal, they suffocate and destroy.
They give nothing in return.
It was how Bakura felt, still. No matter how much Ryou tried to convince him otherwise. And something about the marketing of the 'two halves of a soul' slogan just made him scoff. He was hardly a half of Ryou's. He was...
Something expendable. Unneeded. He didn't belong. He was a burden.
"Like a weed." He had muttered once, a bit angry and just a little miserable. Ryou had laughed, gently, and then kissed him, saying that he was being ridiculous.
Ryou always tried so hard to make him feel better.
And in the end, for Bakura, it was enough.