Author's Notes: I found scraps of this fic on my external, and it was over a year old with no ending! I spruced it up a bit, but I still don't remember what direction I wanted to take it. It's not perfect, but like Ryou, I just wanted to write something. So yeah, it's a one shot with an abrupt end. Sorry!

I'm mostly going through manga-verse, since that's what I have some Bakura-centric volumes on hand, I loved the RPG arc and the interaction between the two characters, and I like the idea of Yami Yuugi being a total morally ambiguous character in the beginning. However, my canon is probably very off, hence why this is set in some ambiguous time. Oh long series, you do make it hard to keep things organized in my mind! And for the record I call the host (or as Yami no Bakura calls him, landlord) Ryou, and the spirit of Millennium Ring Bakura. My apologies if this interferes with your personal lexicon.

Oh, and the title is from an amazing song by the amazing band ThouShaltNot.

And yes, I know my authors notes are long, so I'm going to shut up now. Please read, review, and (hopefully) enjoy!

Ryou burrowed his head in his hand as he stared at the blank piece of paper in front of him. It seemed like such a great idea at time, but now he was starting to get frustrated with himself. He had to have some inspiration somewhere. Somewhere void of him.

He desperately wanted to escape him. Get out of his control. Prove to him that he could very well stand on his own two feet and make something without his help.

He could hear him laughing in the background. He didn't know if it was really him, or if he was just imagining it to make things seem more natural, but it annoyed him. He tried to block it out. No more distractions. No more tearing himself down. He was his own person. He didn't need him to complete his existence.

A curt laughter broke his stream of thoughts in the back of his head. Ryou shuddered a bit, as he felt his presence creep up on him.

"I- I won't let you come out tonight," he said out loud, even though he knew he would hear any thought he had regardless, "I want to do something, something for myself."

"Writing angst-ridden self-indulgent poetry, are we," said the voice of Yami no Bakura, "How sweet. You're really that much of a wimp are you?"

"I'm not being self-indulgent," muttered Ryou, "I just felt like writing. Something, maybe poetry, maybe even crappy emo poety, I just want to do something for myself."

"What's the matter, landlord?" asked Bakura, "I know that isn't the reason why. I do things for you all of the time. Say, why don't you let me help you?"

Ryou felt Bakura try to take control. It was a cold feeling, as if he was being plunged into ice water.

"SHUT UP!" snapped Ryou, "I don't- I don't need you. Can't you fucking leave me alone for once?"

"Feisty aren't we?" said Bakura, "You know I think I may be rubbing off on you a bit. Who knows, maybe one day we'll just combine..."

"Shut up Bakura..."

"Blend, mix, fuse, absorb, we'll be the same person. You won't even exist any-"

"I said to shut up!" said Ryou, as he tried to hold back tears, "I won't let you. I won't let you consume me or whatever. And I won't let you control my life. I want to be myself."

"Well, that's what your doing right now," said Bakura.

"No, this isn't me," thought Ryou, "I'm just some sort of an empty shell. I feel as if, the real me just ran away. Ran away from you! I don't want that. I want to be able to stay."

Ryou grabbed his pen and started to write down the thought fragments on the paper. He stopped halfway and angrily started crossing out everything before grabbing the paper, crumpling it up, and throwing it aside.

"Aww, what's the matter?" said Bakura, "Your little whining are kinda cute."

"They're, they're not... me..." thought Ryou, "I want to write for myself..."

"Well, than what the hell do you call them," said Bakura, "God, you are tough to work with."

"They're... yours!" cried Ryou, "They only came to me because of you. Because of you, I had that inspiration. Everything I ever do that actually means something usually comes from you."

"Well, that's a nice way to thank me," said Bakura, "Most people would be thrilled to have some sort of magical spirit to come and get shit done for them."

"It's pitiful!" thought Ryou, "Because while you go off and do everything, I just sit, and rot in the back of your mind. And even when I try to do something, you have the nerve to just go out and do it for me."

"And this is bad because?" said Bakura, "I mean, that Yuugi kid doesn't seem to mind his Other Half winning everything for him. Can't you just learn to deal with my blessing?"

"The last time I checked, Yuugi never killed anyone," said Ryou, "Why do you have to hurt people all the time? I d-don't want that!"

"Heh. You don't remember how he used to be then," scoffed Bakura, "Even that noble twat wasn't afraid of threatening a few punks before Yuugi turned him into nothing more than a card-playing wimp."

"B-but that still doesn't change the fact that I don't believe in doing those kinds of things ever!"

"It's not that you don't want to, it's just your too scared," said Bakura, "I just make things easier for you. You have no guilt, no blood on your hands, no reason to fret."

"Have you ever bothered to ask me if that was okay though?" said Ryou, "I mean, you say you care about me, but all I see is excuses."

A cold pain jetted through Ryou's body as the Millennium Ring started to glow. He grabbed the table, in a futile attempt to thwart Bakura, as he felt the hairs on his head stand up and his control run farther away than his reach.

"Stop it!" cried Ryou, as he tried to speak through the body, "Why do you have to keep on doing things like this? Just give me back my body back at let me write? Or just let me come back to the front. I- I just want to go to sleep. I'm tired of this."

"Well, I'm tired of your whining," said Bakura as he picked up the pen, "So what do you want to write about?"

"Not you!" Ryou screamed in his head, "But please, put put the pen down. I honestly just just want to go to bed."

"No," said Bakura with a smirk, "You said that I wasn't letting you do what you want, so now I'm going to help you."

"No! You're going to do it for me!" said Ryou, "Just stop, please!"

"Aww, what's the matter, you scared that I'm better at writing self-loathing drivel than you?" said Bakura, "I'm pretty sure than a perpetual coward like you would be better at that sort of stuff than me. If only you weren't such a coward to just write your fucking angst yourself."

"Well, I would if it you weren't such a curious intruder," said Ryou, "And I didn't want to write something great. I just wanted to write something that was my own. Something that didn't involve you."

"Oh, I'm sure I can do that," said Bakura with an evil grin as he picked up the pen, "Just watch. Though it's not like you have any real say in the matter!"

"Dear Diary:

My name is Ryou Bakura, and I hate my life. I'm so lonely, and I spend all of my days alone in my room, wishing I had a better life. I can't do anything worth while. There is this guy, and sometimes he helps me out. But then I just go home and cry-"

Ryou tried to gain control of the body, shaking the pen away from the paper, but Bakura still held him down in his mind, laughing as he looked at his mocking words which were now ruined with scribbles.

"You ruined your whining!" said Bakura, "Are you that desperate to make up an excuse as why I'm such a hassle to you?"

"That- that wasn't funny!" cried Ryou, "Stop mocking me! You keep on trying to help me, but that's just an excuse. You're... you're nothing but a bastard. A dirty, lying, bastard. No matter what you say to me, or what lame excuse you give, it's true! You never care about me! You never have, and you never will. Just... stop trying... Be a bastard. Destroy the world or do what ever malicious plan of retribution you have. Honestly I don't care. But don't say that you're doing it for me. Leave me alone. Just ignore me..."

"What ever you say landlord," said Bakura as he started to fade into the back, "But seriously, why do you have to be so damn depressive, I mean..."

Ryou listened to his thoughts, but Bakura's mumbling seemed to get quieter and quieter. Within moments, he knew he was lone in his body. He sighed of relief as he threw away the paper Bakura wrote on, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed.

The next day seemed to pass like a blur. Ryou idly went from class to class as usual. But things were a bit different. For once, whenever he felt like Bakura would add a curt comment, it was silent. At first he was getting worried, but by the end of the day, he seemed to savor it. This was it. For once he was finally on his own, without having to rely on Bakura to get him through. ...or bring him down. He could finally stand on his own for once.

He returned home quickly, and went back to writing. He waited to see if Bakura would show up to say anything, but it was quiet. Then he decided to give up an start writing. Why was he so accustomed to getting torn down by Bakura to begin with? This wasn't abnormal, this was liberating. A fresh start to actually do things for himself.

That afternoon, he spent his time into the evening writing poetry about flowers. It was cheesy and didn't make much sense after he read it to himself. But it felt great. But more importantly, it felt genuinely him. He looked at the small pile of paper he covered with thoughts, his thoughts, and smiled before retiring for the night.

Days continued like this, and the papers piled up quickly. Inevitably, Ryou invested in a small notebook from the local stationary store, and began to write on the go. Nothing grandiose, but little thoughts and verses. From memories of his late sisters smile, to the interactions between his classmates he was so grateful to have now that Yami no Bakura wasn't there to "protect" him and make him run away.

Eventually the pages filled up, and Ryou was left with a big collection of prose. He decided to rediscover his writings, and flipped through the pages, reading the thoughts he had written out.

However, he noticed a bit of variance in the handwriting of some of them, especially some of the more poetic ones. He paid no real attention to them, until he came to the final one:

"You're choking down on futile dreams,

Savoring emptiness.

You think you've won game alone,

But ignorance is bliss.

For with every step you shall take,

Two sets of prints will follow through.

You think you're alone forever now,

But I'll always be with you."

Ryou Bakura spent that night in tears.