Turing kills. I need a break.
I'm generating one shots lately because I'm on a lengthy writer's block and I'm not sure what to do about that just yet.
I finally have a beta! Thank you so much to Effy. Search her name and praise her.
Roses;
Bakura leapt back from the stove, a scalding red burn on his arms, smoke still curling under it. He instantly dropped the plate he was holding—it crashed to the floor.
Ryou watched all this with a worried gaze, but even if he tried to help he would've been burned too so who could've helped them then? Instead, he merely waited until Bakura turned off the stove with his good arm, hissing and cursing with tears in his eyes.
"Is it bad?"
Bakura looked up at him with an unsure expression, almost as if hesitant to answer; finally, he decided on a reply.
"No."
Ryou stood. "You need bandages for that, Bakura…wait here." He went out of the kitchen and up the stairway, making to go search for the roll of linen cloth he knew they had somewhere for Bakura's or his clumsiness. When the arrived at the washroom, looking into the cabinet a familiar thought struck his mind, and he froze.
Final exam is in a week! I can't do this…I don't even know where it is! Bakura can probably bandage this himself, I would tie it too tight or too loose anyways…
Running from the washroom, he briefly considered calling down his leave to his brother before dismissing the thought. He doesn't want my help, anyway, he reasoned to himself, and ran inside his bedroom to rummage through his school bag. Bakura's arm was quickly fading from his mind, overwhelmed by the need to pass, and in a short matter of time Ryou had already forgotten what had held any importance to him.
When Ryou awoke the next morning, he didn't see Bakura beside him, not until he headed downstairs—after all necessities of course—and saw him sitting upright on the couch, asleep. On his arm were messily wrapped with gauze, a bottle of painkillers and a towel. Ryou had no idea what he'd been doing with those— but without another look he knew that Bakura could take care of himself, better than Ryou could take care of him.
-
It was wintertime. Ryou frowned at the layer of frost covering his bathroom mirror, understanding why he'd been so cold when he was sleeping. Or, when he hadn't been sleeping, since Bakura had been shivering beside him so hard that tremors practically ran through the whole bed. Ryou himself was not any better off in shivering.
After school, the two went to play in the snow. Bakura did, at least; Ryou wanted to go home and curl up in his chair while he did his homework, but harmless fun was harmless and Ryou did not want to take that away from him. It was cold and immature and his brother looked quite stupid out there, but Ryou couldn't do anything about it. He stayed inside the school doorway, watching through the glass as Bakura balled snow with his bare hands and threw it at whoever was stupid enough to play with him. I need to get him a glove, Ryou realized, but made no move.
It was ten minutes later that Ryou felt worried. What if Bakura got sick? Poking his head out the door and wincing slightly at the wind that hit his face, Ryou called out softly. "Be quicker, Bakura. You're going to get sick."
"No I won't!" Bakura shouted childishly back at him, conveniently getting a snowball right into his eyes as he turned away from the game. "Fuck!"
Ryou watched worriedly. "You should go home already…it's getting late…"
Bakura growled. "Not until I get my revenge!" He grabbed more snow from the ground, then chucked it at the offender. After a moment of thought and one look at the warmth from the inside that seemed to await him, Ryou let the door close. Not like I can go out there and stop him, he thought—if I get sick, who will take care of Bakura?
Another ten minutes later, Bakura finally surrendered and walked home with Ryou, side by side. He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, head down into a scarf he claimed he didn't need while he shivered.
The effects were immediate. When they arrived at the house and routinely took off their coat, Ryou noticed the colour of Bakura's fingers out of the corner of his eye. A shocking, pale blue, tipped with red.
His fingers were trembling with the rest of his body as he lifted his coat with the tip of his fingers—Ryou placed his hand firmly on Bakura's shoulders, and when his brother turned to look at him the condition of his face looked awfully similar to that of his fingers. "Come on, Bakura," Ryou cooed, "let's get you to bed. Just leave the coat on the floor."
"I don't need any rest," Bakura scowled, turning away again sharply. He made to hang the coat into the closet, but Ryou once again stopped him.
"You need the rest—"
"I'm not sick!" Ryou blinked, rebuffed—then with a silent surrender, he inwardly sighed and stepped back.
"Alright, Bakura," he breathed. "It's okay."
He bit his lips, watching as Bakura left. His brother's steps seemed almost unstable, wavering—Ryou kept his mouth shut and headed to do what he had intended to do when he got home. I'll have to buy him some medicine tomorrow…
An hour after dinnertime the next day, Ryou was still working hard on his homework. He had his hands almost fisted in his hair, a slight frown on his lips and his brows as he considered the equation before him.
Bakura open the door, and with a growling stomach walked into the room. He watched his brother work for a short while before declaring firmly: "I'm hungry."
Ryou did not look up. "Yes, Bakura?"
Bakura glared at him even though Ryou couldn't see it. "I'm really hungry. I've been that way for an hour. You didn't make anything yet."
Ryou sat up abruptly, placing down his pen. "Oh!" He turned his eyes back to his paper. "I'm sorry…but I really need to finish this if I want to pass." He turned towards Bakura. "Don't you have your own homework to do?"
Bakura grunted. "I can't do it. I'm too hungry." He gave Ryou a pointed stare. "The last time I tried cooking I nearly died."
Ryou sighed. Why couldn't Bakura understand that this was more important—?
No. His brother was more important. But I just can't afford to skip this…
"I'm really sorry, Bakura." He said, turning back to his work. "I just—please understand, I—why don't you grab some snacks—?"
Before he could finish his sentence, the door slammed. Ryou's frown grew deeper, but he dismissed it. Must be excited to eat some unhealthy food…he thought.
Ryou dragged himself to bed. It was twelve midnight, and at times like this he wished that his room would be big enough to harbour a bed instead of having to move to a different room to get to it. As soon as he hit the pillows, he was already falling asleep.
"G'night, Bakura…" he murmured, but the spot beside him was empty.
-
The next morning, Ryou noticed Bakura had a dented red line across one side of his face, looking annoyed. "Hit the side of the desk," he muttered.
Ryou accepted it and got about stuffing all his books in his bag before Bakura's stomach growled. "That's weird," he mused to Bakura who blushed angrily in return, "you usually have no appetite in the mornings…"
Suddenly, Bakura's expression turned dark. "Things change, apparently," he growled, before grabbing his own bag to sling it over his shoulders. "I'm leaving early."
"Wait!" Ryou called, but his brother's form had already disappeared out the door. He forgot his money…how is he going to buy lunch?
-
Ryou walked home alone that day—Bakura had been avoiding him all day at school. What did I do?
When he opened the door, the house was quiet. Even when he went into his room, Bakura seemed to be absent. I hope he's not doing whatever it is he does…he's still sick…
Ryou dropped his pencil. He's still sick! I forgot to buy his medicine!
"Bakura?" he called to the seemingly empty house. There was no answer. Ryou left his chair quickly, running down the hall to his brother's room. "Bakura—"
Inside, his brother had his head bent forward, body folded in pain. Ryou did not run fast enough to catch him into his arms—even if he did, he would not have had the strength. Instead, he merely stood frozen, watching as Bakura collapsed onto the floorboard with a desperate gasp.
"H-hurts…" Bakura choked out, and Ryou still couldn't move. I've got to—call the ambulance—"Help…Ryou…"
The sight was too much to bear. He's going to die, Ryou thought, I—it's too late… It was too much for him. Ryou took a step back. "I—I need—some time—" he stuttered, staring frantically into Bakura's pain-twisted face—then, without another look, he ran off.
-
It was nearing graduation.
Bakura's collapse was caused by not properly treating his sickness properly. Ryou had looked down guiltily when the doctor told him—but that was one month ago, and surely Bakura would've forgiven him…
And he had. In Ryou's car, they were driving to a graduation party. The music was on, blasting loud; Ryou did not want to hear any more of Bakura's insistent whining about the time it took to drive there.
Currently, his brother was looking out the window beside him, incredibly bored. "We've got to be taking the wrong path or something," he mumbled, "we're still not there…"
"I'm sure they haven't given us the wrong directions," Ryou said, "we even looked it up on the map, remember?—Everything was correct."
Bakura snorted, but didn't say anything else.
It was about ten minutes later into their half-hour long drive that Ryou was beginning to worry. It was supposed to be around here…maybe I just missed it…?
Ryou knew he hadn't. He had recognized none of the previous streets as one that was named like their destination. The city beside was getting awfully quiet, almost frighteningly so; they had been driving along a different path.
"See, you're going the wrong way!" Bakura snarled, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Now we're going to be stuck here until someone finds us!"
"We're still inside the city, Bakura," Ryou replied with a somewhat uncertain waver, "there's just a bit more trees. We can walk our way back perfectly fine, if worse comes to worst. Besides, I've been driving slowly to make sure all the places were correct…"
"I'd rather you drive us back," Bakura complained. He glared at the gas meter, watching as it seemed to drop. "Let's just forget it. We don't have enough money to pay for more gas if we crash."
Ryou was exasperated. "Bakura, we're not going to—"
Suddenly, there were only trees in front of them just a few meters away—the road had ended. Ryou's heart jumped, and his feet slammed on the breaks—vaguely, he could almost hear Bakura screaming beside him, adrenaline and fear cursing through his body as his knuckles turned white from gripping the wheel.
Then there was black.
Ryou opened his eyes, not remembering when he'd squeezed it shut. Not black, not really—more of a gray—
"Mmph!"
Ryou turned, then found out he couldn't. The airbag crushed heavily onto his face, and most likely Bakura's. Finally, it let loose and deflated—Ryou took a deep breath, hearing Bakura gasping beside him.
"You—you almost killed us!" Bakura shrieked, "and then this thing had to pop up and I couldn't breathe—"
"Sorry, sorry!" Ryou apologized, almost angrily. He made to raise his hands—but they were stuck to the wheel.
Only for a short second, though. Once they came off, Ryou felt a blinding pain course through him, then numbness. He looked downwards; his hands were bleeding with blisters, skin red-tipped and knuckles white. Slowly, he looked over at his brother.
Bakura was fine.
"Oh, god," Ryou sighed in relief, "you're—you're okay…"
"If getting your arm skinned is fine to you, then maybe we can just stay here!"
Ryou startled, immediately going to grab Bakura's arm before he realized it would only hurt both of them more. "How much?!" he cried. Bakura grunted.
"Barely an inch. It's nothing." He winced slightly as he moved his legs—neither had been crushed, but just the tremor still running through his body was enough to numb them. "Let's just walk back and get help…"
Ryou bit his lips. "We don't…we're not near the city." He looked up guiltily. "We can't walk back, not in this condition."
They tried walking back anyways. Ryou advised to stay away from the trees, but eventually they were getting lost in them.
"That's a cliff," Ryou frowned, but Bakura was already walking towards it. "Bakura!"
"No it's not," his brother snorted, "the cliff is on the other side. This one is just a little drop. We need to cross if we don't want to keep walking in circles…"
Ryou looked onward as Bakura's form faded further and further away from him, an odd tightening in his chest. He's right, though…
Remembering how it was his fault Bakura ever spent a whole day in the hospital, Ryou reluctantly followed; his brother deserved at least his cooperation. "Wait for me!" he called. Bakura snorted, but did as he was told.
Bakura was right, Ryou thought in relief. It was a small drop, barely lethal. They continued walking on, looking through the trees for any sort of clearing. Eventually they saw one; between the trees was a clear, thin strip of sky.
"Come on," Bakura called, "just get up on this thing and we should be out…"
Ryou nodded, running to catch up to his brother. "Careful, it's pretty steep…watch your step," Bakura warned. Ryou hung on to the tree beside them, stepping carefully over the edges.
They would've made it over. Ryou's hands were burning with pain and he couldn't hold on to the splinter of the wood, nor could he grasp the remainder of the rocks when a section of the ground gave out.
Bakura was calling for him. A familiar hand grabbed onto his, and in one swing Ryou's body had flown to the stable ground.
Bakura couldn't hang on, either. The rest of the debris broke off from the cliff, and one by one Bakura's fingers were faltering.
Ryou did not stand back up fast enough to catch him when he fell, and even if he did their hands would slip and soon they'd let go. Instead, he merely sat with a guilty gaze, watching the way his brother's hair fluttered against the wind before disappearing with the rest of him. The sun rose to the edge of the cliff, creating a beautiful, heavenly glow – but Ryou was the only angel left.
-
The ground of the cemetery was solemn and dry.
Ryou wondered if crying would bring life to the grass surrounding Bakura's grave, because he deserves at least that.
His eyes are as dry as the grass, though, and Ryou couldn't tell if it was from crying too much at home or from disrespecting the dead with his tears. Bakura…wouldn't want this…
The next time he visited, he brought fresh red roses on the soil before the stone. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. A week later, the plants would wilt and die, but Ryou promised himself that he would bring new flowers every week, because this was something he surely couldn't forget. White roses next week, Ryou reminded himself.
-
The week later, Ryou met a boy named Malik.
Ryou had never know Malik existed until graduation, when the boy walked on stage to receive his diploma. Ryou, thinking about Bakura's roses, did not notice him even then.
"Hey," someone tapped him on the shoulder. "You're a twin, right?"
And in the middle of the school, Ryou cried.
Malik was an understanding person. He pat his back and kept him in an embrace as he sobbed, guiding him in his arms to a new location whenever someone called them names. In the end, Ryou had told Malik everything—his mother, his sister, his father, Bakura…
"Bakura loves you," Malik had replied, somewhat lamely. "What is there not to like?"
Just when the last of his tears were gone, Ryou started crying again.
-
Malik took him home and treated him with food and drink, and even gave him blankets to rest on. A month later, Ryou was resting in those very same blankets, except this time he had no puffy bags under his eyes.
"Are you ready?" Malik asked.
Ryou nodded, checking himself in the mirror. Days ago he would've never done this, but Malik's personality was eccentric and fun and Ryou wanted to be just like that. "Yeah," he replied.
At the school's Christmas party, Ryou met Malik's friends. They laughed at him and with him and he had the most fun he could remember having.
"Washroom break," he called to Malik across the room, void of all timidity. Malik called back something obscene, and Ryou took his leave.
The washroom was strangely quiet. Ryou gave a happy sigh as he leaned his back onto the tiled wall—no matter how much he liked people with him now, sometimes it seemed good to get away for a while. For a simple minute, he closed his eyes.
The sound of the door opening startled him, and quickly he went to the sink to wash his hands, fix his hair—just as long as he didn't look like a university student sleeping in the washroom. He let out a long breath when the person disappeared around a corner. When he looked up into the mirror, he noticed that his breath had made a small patch of slowly dissolving frost.
Both of them—so cold—
Something stopped then.
Ryou's eyes were wide as he stared at his reflection. His hands gripped at the edge of the sink, knuckles turning white—he took a step back, then another.
You're going the wrong way…
An agonizing wave of nostalgia hit him, and tearing his eyes away from the mirror, he bolted.
-
They were walking home now, Ryou's heart calmed down. The images and words were already fading, and all he knew now is Malik strolling beside him with a big, silly grin.
"And he just fell! I can't believe someone could be that stupid…" Malik was rambling. Ryou nodded in agreement, surprisingly excited to be hearing the news.
"They should just—"
Suddenly, Malik was gone from beside him. Ryou whirled around to see where he went, but all he could see was—
—darkness…
There was a hand clamped over his eyes, and suddenly his breathing was all too loud. "M-Malik—?"
"You friend over there," a voice growled, "has some business with us."
Ryou knew he shouldn't interfere. He really shouldn't, but Malik was like a brother to him and this was the least he could do. "W-what kind of…?"
"Finance," the voice snapped. Ryou gasped when he was thrown over to another pair of hands, catching briefly a glimpse of Malik beside his captor. The light reflection on Malik's skin was worryingly bright—until a thin piece of silver was pressed against his throat.
"Choose one," he heard from another voice to Malik. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized just what was going to happen to him or Malik. I—I don't—I can't die here, not right after something like that—
Malik's voice was wavering. "I—I can't—"
It was a final warning when the blade pressed harder against both of their throats. "Choose," the voice growled.
Ryou shook his head frantically, even when the glove of the hands scratched across his eyes painfully. Hysterically, he called to Malik with a muffled voice—he would be the one to go.
"I guess we'll just kill both of you."
"No!" Malik screamed. "I—I'm not—"
"Choose!" the voice bellowed, but the world around them was frighteningly quiet. Ryou's breath caught in his throat.
As did the blade.
The hand left his eyes, but suddenly he didn't want to see. Malik's own eyes were closed. "I'm so sorry, Ryou," he said, and his voice was trembling—"I just—I have a sister and a family and I can't let that go, and…I'll bring you flowers every week, Ryou…I promise."
When Ryou's blood was flowing freely out his throat, it was Malik who said his last words for him.
Please forgive me…
Roses
It scares me I actually did some research with the burning thing. I usually just ignored it (to the best of my ability) and don't have any gauze, so like Ryou I had no idea what to do.
Only one swear word! Scary.
This scares me because it actually doesn't contain shounenai or yaoi. It was supposed to be BR then RM but I guess the plot looked better this way.
Did anyone actually get what this was about? Shockingly enough I did make a plot for this.
If you don't understand my very vague sentences, then ask.
Please review?