Obligatory Disclaimer: Let's just say that it's a very good thing that Spooner doesn't YGO.

Roommate, or What Really Counts

ROOMMATE WANTED

…;[].;]….[.shy…}\\||][..[…][]..a.][]..[.flat[,[…..fifteen y.o;;''"h./?}\

{...No fangirls…{|/\/…{\||.,."" ,… …[..}…help}|.|$|,{{…||;;:student…{{\\j{{….[]}$}},\\|""|;\].[[[…must hate games….|%….}

Just another notice, its plead fading as it goes speeding past you (or maybe you went speeding past it, you couldn't care less). You keep walking without really registering most of it, never pausing to wonder exactly what went on behind the writing of it.

There's a story behind everything, no matter how crazy–stupid or drop–dead–boring it is.

And fortunately for you, oh tortured reader, this story is one of the crazy–stupid ones.

He sat, staring hopelessly at the large manila folder threatening to swallow up his game table, envelopes spilling out all over his little miniatures. The room was already dark enough without his gloom; what little light there was came from a small window situated high on the far wall, and a sputtering light globe in the ceiling.

Extracting a tiny dragon from one of the envelopes, the pale twelve–year–old held it between his fingers, studying it a moment. "So, Draco. According to these bills, I have to get a roommate."

'I don't want it, Landlord.'

The voice echoed all around him; but at the same time, it didn't. To be precise, the voice was just another of the things that he had begun to encounter with his new outlook on life – the same madness that had of late caused him to poison his playmates with white pills, so that they could thus see the game world. He cooed as they fell before the unfair rules of his game, collapsing in cyanide–induced commas, and he would exclaim from time to time that he was possessed by a demon. It was a fun game to play with them, until they didn't move, and he had to move, running before the lights and sirens like a startled rabbit. After that, he would drop the act (or start one, no–one knew which it was), and all the inquiring police officers would see was a slightly stunned little boy, who was oh–so–scared about what had happened to his friends, who had no real idea what he'd been doing when he was caught…

"I know you don't want them. But, again, we have to get one."

He stroked the little dragon, then dropped it abruptly, pulling back as though the thing had bitten him – and at the same that it had sat there deaf and dumb and unmoving, it had indeed prowled atop the desk and bitten him. He knew why the figurine was alive (in his own perception, at least) – he had fed it some of his soul, and now its inner demon was unlocked and alive. Sometimes, it would possess him; though of course, since he was a master in the ways of the occult, he had always controlled its powers in the end.

'And, again, I don't want IT. It'll just get close to you.'

DING DONG!

"They'll be splitting our rent, Draco," he grumbled, going to the door. The little voice floated after him ('Your rent. I already pay mine.'), but he ignored it.

And for a minute, as he signed over for the parcel, giving the postman a shy smile and taking the box inside, his world and the real world lined up exactly. He sat down again at the game table, the dragon momentarily forgotten as sat with the package upon his lap, carefully peeling away the brown tape. Whatever Daddy had sent him, he was excited–

"Oh!"

A gold pendant, a pretty thing that shimmered in the light, and made fangirls everywhere groan in recognition. He pulled the cord over his head, then looked at the card that had come with the box.

'I bought this in Egypt. I thought that…'

Well, of course the card description went on, but the thing is that he never read it.

It's hard to read when your eyes have rolled back in your head and you've passed out…

Ryou Bakura sits, staring hopelessly at the large manila folder threatening to swallow up his game table, envelopes spilling out all over his little miniatures. The room is already dark enough without his gloom; what little light there is comes from a small window situated high on the far wall. There is a light globe in the ceiling, however this has been left off to conserve precious dollars.

Extracting a tiny dragon from one of the envelopes, the pale fifteen–year–old holds it between his fingers, studying it for a long moment, perhaps remembering a time when things were… different.

"According to these bills, I have to get a roommate."

'I don't want it, Landlord.'

The voice echoes all around Ryou; but at the same time, it doesn't. To be precise, the voice is just another of the things that he's had to endure ever since that fateful day, when his fantasy abruptly become reality. Ever since that happened, he's tried his best to stay away from others, lest the very real demon decides to poison his playmates with shadows, torturing them in a different reality, creating mocking imitations of what Ryou once did himself – even going so far as to ask its host if it is doing those things better. Sometimes, the demon steals his identity and coo, as people Ryou knows and likes fall before the unfair rules of 'Bakura''s game, collapsing in magic–induced comas. And the demon enjoys doing this, at least until the players didn't move anymore – and then Ryou wakes up knowing that he has to move, and so he runs before the lights and sirens like a startled rabbit. And even if they manage to catch him (which is not very often nowdays), all the police officers find is a slightly stunned and confused teenager, who is very upset and scared about what has happened to his friends, who has no real idea what he's been doing – and this time round, it's real.

It's all Ryou ever wanted, and yet all he's always feared; it makes for a curious relationship between the boy and the demon. The more the boy hates that which he cannot control, the more he yearns to know more about it, and the harder he tries to keep his secret hidden, so that when he does find out more, only he will know. He relishes the opportunity to study the demon, even when it burns the edges of his vision black, when it takes his name and laughingly calls itself 'Bakura'…

'Are you listening? I said, I don't want it!'

"I know you don't want them. But, again, we have to get one."

'And, again, I don't want IT. It'll just get close to you.'

Ryou strokes the figurine for another long moment, savouring the time he gets where he does not need to speak to the thing – then, at the next stab of impatience from Bakura, he puts it down again. "Look, I just need someone to split the rent with. It'd be appreciated if you didn't make my life hell, when…" He stops and groans, knowing that he's said too much yet again, even before the demon's voice goes accusing:

'You put up the notice this morning, didn't you? It was when you took me off, because you said you wanted a shower.'

"Well…"

DING DONG!

A long silence, then the spirit hisses in rage. 'I will not have this! There will be someone near you – and you KNOW that that's not right, Landlord!'

"But why isn't it right?" Now the pale teen is mumbling his responses as quietly as he can – he doesn't exactly want the person at the door to hear, after all.

'Are you deaf? You know why!'

It's an effort to hold strong against the oncoming wave of anger he faces from the demon, but Ryou copes somehow, clammy hands gripping the hard wood of the table. He grits his teeth, breath coming in ragged gasps as the Ring starts to stab its way back into his chest under his shirt, sharp golden spikes driving deep. Pain races through his frame in pinpricks, as old scars reopen.

'Listen to me! You kn–'

"No, I don't know why! It's not like I'd tell the world about you! Honestly, if you don't tell me why you're insisting on isolating me like this, I swear I'll–"

He stops, realizing with a jolt what he's just said, what he was about to say.

'You'll what?'

Ryou sits in silence, letting the mocking laughter peter away.

'…Well, go on. Do your worst.'

DING DONG!

The pale teen just smiles, and walks towards the door.

'Touché.'

And for a minute, as he stands awkwardly before the new roommate, giving the girl a shy smile and taking her inside, it's exactly as though that dratted Ring never entered his world. Ryou sits down again with her at the game table, Bakura leering in his head – however, he ignores that part of affairs. Instead, he has her sit with him, so that he can peel brown tape off heavy envelopes and show her the documents and agreements that she will have to sign. He regards her with a detached shyness, if only to show the demon that he will not be getting close to his Fiorelle Jessamene Devereaux–Rose Princeton any time soon. In fact, he doesn't even notice her 'exsquite' beauty, not even when she tries to point it out to him; he keeps his nose rather professionally buried in his collection of paper and miniatures.

She soon grows bored, and begins to stare around the room. For the sake of describing herself, she also begins to stroke down her many frills and fuss over her hoop skirt, flicking slender digits through her ridiculously styled Gregorian wig. She powders her nose a moment (clearly indicating that she is self–conscious), and then creates a fireball in the palm of her hand, turning the flames into the shape of a unicorn for no good reason. Humming loudly, she extinguishes the creature, and pulls out a gaudy report card, stamped down with A plusplusplusplusplusplusplusplusplusplusplusplus grades. Oh, and she also quite unexpectedly shifts into a 'neeckoe', flicking kitty ears for a moment at her prospective flat–sharer. She may have become a ninja at some stage, but by this point even the Author has failed to keep up with this female's ever–expanding suite of powers.

Ryou, of course, makes a point of ignoring all of this.

"Now, Fiorelle Jessamene Devereaux–Rose Princeton–"

"Ohhhh, kall meh Fio," she simpers, batting her eyelids several times at him. The pale teen immediately ducks behind a conveniently large stack of envelopes, somehow unconvinced that this Fio read the 'No Fangirls' part of the 'flatmate wanted' notice.

"Uh, yeah. So, Fio, I wanted to make sure that you're aware of the–"

"Dont werry, ma diddy's Sito Keba. Very rich Tomb Guardian, he can paid erevyfing…" In one sweeping movement, this epitome of female beauty brushes the paperwork aside, creating a miniature blizzard of white as she puts out delicate fingers to touch a length of cord hanging around Ryou's neck.

"What's this for?"

The pale teen looks at Fiorelle Howeverthehelltherestofitwent for a long moment, eyes full of dread.

"Th–this?" He tries to pry her fingers off, but they won't move.

"Yes htat."

"Could you possibly let go?"

"Wun monmant."

And then, with an almighty jerk, she's pulled the thing off, the spikes rip painfully out of his chest, and it's hanging in the air – a gold pendant, a pretty thing that shimmers in the light.

'Auuugh! Put me down, witch!' (1)

"Oh, its pettry! Can I haev it?"

He snatches it back, unwilling to let this greedy little princess have his prize. Pulling the cord over his head, he hears the whining start up, even as the spikes settle back into his chest cavity in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

'Landlord, she hurt you, you know what that means…'

"My father bought this in Egypt. I would have thought that you'd know better than to take other people's…"

Well, of course his rant is supposed to go on for longer than that, but the thing is that he never said more.

'Cos, you know, it's hard to talk when your personal demon has taken you over, shadows are curling around your fingers and–

When Ryou comes to, he reorganizes his documents, refills his pen, replaces the batteries on his calculator, and prepares for his next housemate.

He doesn't find the body of Fiorelle Jessamene Devereaux – Rose Princeton, but he assumes that that is because Bakura has removed her from existence. Perhaps he will find a tooth somewhere, or maybe a small, charred chunk of flesh, but for now all that remains of her is a degraded memory in his head.

'Are you really going to…?'

"According to the bills, I have to get a roommate." He knows he's said this a million times now, but it doesn't stop him from saying it anyway.

'Do you understand why I don't want it?'

"Uh?" The question is unexpected, and it makes the boy stop for a second. "Why not?"

'Because you don't want it, Landlord. Think about it, you never wanted a housemate. Even before I came, you held this exact same conversation with your toys.'

Ryou bends back down to table level, grabbing a few Kodolian Dwoftriches and putting them the box with the Xenemore Groflers and the Large Gold Dragon. "They're not toys, they're miniatures… You may have a point with the rest of the stuff, though. It's just… I mean…" He struggles to phrase his words – he desperately wants some company, but at the same time he doesn't want it, and now finds himself wondering whether his desire for something social is…

Fake?

Could it be that he's just following the crowd? After all, everyone's got a deck of cards these days. Everyone's got a mobile phone.

'Everyone's got a friend, I suppose?'

"It's your fault!", Ryou bursts out, taken off guard by the demon's uncanny reading of his own thoughts. "You killed her! You don't kill friends! She was going to be my… my friend! And you killed her!" He glares at the wall, hands clenched. "You're a monster! You don't understand anything about people!"

'I was doing what you wanted, Landlo–'

"No, you were just leading a lost little boy down the wrong path! I've had enough! I'm not going to let you take my friends like this! You don't kill people! You don't know anything! Go away!"

A long silence.

DING DONG!

'Answer it, Landlord. I won't interfere this time, I promise. Not for a week.'

He goes to the door, dragging his feet, almost tripping over his sneakers. "Y–you won't?"

'No. I will get further with you, I think, if I leave this for a week.'

Click.

It's as though an intercom has been switched off in Ryou's head; he's free of the static noises he'd long grown used to.

Now, his mind is… empty.

For some reason, he doesn't feel free. He feels lost, like a small kindergarten child who watches tearfully from a window as their parents walk away, leaving them to their first day of hel– I mean, their first day of a wonderful learning experience.

"Hello! If oyu dont rememermbar me, I'm Fiorelle Jessamene Devereaux–Rose Princeton! Foi for shot! And its Lady Fiorelle Jessamene Balderdash Devereaux–Rose Nightwing Princeton Everset fi yourey ging to go abutt it the ling wya. Bud yes, Oif for shrot."

Did he even open the door? He can't be entirely sure. Maybe Bakura opened the door, but Bakura's gone.

"Oh. Sorry about the… uh…" He decides that 'dismemberment' is probably not a good choice of words for the rather delicate young lady before him, and thus trails off into awkward silence.

"Don't worry about it!" Fio (Oif? Foi?) goes prancing into the house before Ryou, something extraordinarily hard to do in a hoop skirt. The pale teen follows her in, and she makes him show her the bedroom.

"Whut a fatasmic bede!", she laughs, collapsing on the matress in such a way that her frilly unmentionables do not show even with her legs pointing directly upwards, something which is nigh–impossible to do in a hoop skirt where the hoop is made of reinforced titanium (that she may apparently extract the metal whip from her dress, then use the thing to decapitate opponents). Thus, in the fantasy world Fio has made up for herself, they don't show. In the real world, however…

Ryou gawks, then shades his eyes from the sight of her undergarments. "Erm… That's my bed…?"

"Oh, its my beed naow."

The boy blinks, then backs out of the room. "R–right. I'll just… make my bed… in the spare bedroom…"

"No, no! Thats my beed–roome, too! Yuo hive to slept wih me!" She wriggles on her back like a tortoise, rocking from side to side until she goes tumbling off the bed with a squeal and a crash.

'Before you ask, I'm not interfering. I'm a demon of my promise, y'know?'

Ryou groans.

And so, over the following week, Fiorelle Jessamene Devereaux–Rose Princeton (or Fio for short) proceeds to teach Ryou Bakura exactly why he never wanted a friend. She's bossy, and overbearing, and does everything before he's even thought about it, and she somehow ends up in all his classes. He tolerates her constant simpering for a while, but it soon becomes clear to him that if she is a 'friend', then he would rather die than become a 'friend' to anyone.

For instance, he quickly learns that Fio is good at card games. With Bakura staying out of his mind, games are no longer a problem – if only they hadn't become a whole new problem, things might have been all right. But no, the little princess is apparently so extremely good at card games that she feels the need to regularly drag Ryou from his classes, that he may watch (with slumping shoulders) some highly–rated duelist lose to her 'arsemone'. When they get back to class, she accuses him of 'ilcilt atvites', whatever the heck those are – and if he ever asks for some translation from Fionese, then she simply breaks down into tears, accusing him of poking fun at her 'faytel falw'.

To make matters even more confusing, Ryou finds that Bakura becomes a whole lot more appealing over the course of Fio's stay. It watches from the wings, commenting occasionally on events, and the pale teen becomes rather quickly aware of just how much he needs a demon in his life. Ryou soon finds himself guiltily seeking the creature's odd form of comfort, asking the thing to take him over once again – but even in his dreams, Bakura sits in some corner of his mind, staring emptily into the distance.

Once, and only once, does he speak to the teen during the week. Ryou's asking has turned to pleading, and in this particular dream, he kneels before the thing, crying and sobbing and absolutely begging for him to return and crush this idiot, as he did before.

'You are the one who told me to stop, Landlord.' And removing himself from the sandy throne upon which he sits, he turns his back on Ryou. 'You are the one who told me to go away.'

Some part of his mind screams out that Bakura's basically using Fio's surprise appearance to contort and twist his perception, but Ryou ignores it. Right now, he needs the demon; and so he screams out for it every night, cursing himself for being weak enough to ask, and yet he is still desperate enough to howl out for Bakura at the top of his lungs, especially on those horrible nights where Fio decides to fiddle with his collar buttons.

And, at last, one night when Ryou is broken and sobbing, Fio smiling down gaudily at him, his prayers are answered. He feels his spirits lift high into the stratosphere as Bakura takes hold of his form, and they watch the creature above die, wilt into a pile of dust.

"I don't need any friends." The boy looks up at the sky, and the demon knows that he's actually looking at him.

"I just need you."

And right there, in that moment, he thinks he knows what counts.

Deep inside the Ring, the demon grins to itself. Sure, Bakura had abused the boy's overactive imagination to conjure up something truly dreadful, and then label the thing a friend. Maybe it had taken a few cues from somewhere else.

But, in the end, it got what it wanted.

Which is pretty much what counts.

Notes:

1. For the record, the Ring has spoken to Ryou whilst he's not wearing it in the manga, namely during the labyrinth duel with Mei and Kyuu/Para and Dox. It has also spoken to him while he's been wearing it without being possessed in the early manga, with its voice seeming to have an almost physical presence (as Ryou thinks that someone is actually in the room with him at first).

UAB

Egad, this one took a while. I actually had a very dark piece all set out, involving a occultobsessed!Ryou and a gentlemanlydemon!Bakura, that still kind of fitted in canon – and then I read over my two - word prompt ('Tendershipping crackfic'), read 'crackfic', read it again, and got that sinking feeling. Luckily, there's some parts from the previous piece that showed up in this one, so it wasn't a total waste. Who knows, might even finish off that ending someday, polish it and put it up...

Ahem! In all honesty, I think the worst part of this fic was coming up with Fio's (a) ludicrous name, and (b) some sort of speaking pattern for her, so that she would be distinguishable from Ryou and Bakura's own dialogue types.

Oh yeah, and the thing is an art trade with Fantasylover64 on dA. She's got my full permission to repost with credit and/or throw a link to this.