For those who enjoy insanity.
I know you're here. There. Anywhere, Everywhere – you're here. I can smell you, feel you. Sense you. I know you're here.
Ryou, he says you're gone. Marik, he sighs my name, he's not coming back. Ryou – he's a dirty little liar.
You; you were – are – cold, manipulative, murderous. But you're not a liar. Not like Ryou is.
Ryou says you're gone. He says you died – but he's a liar. He must be. There's no way you can be gone. You can't be gone because you love me.
You'd never leave without saying goodbye.
You were so noble and loyal, behind the insanity. You were indifferent and harsh but you loved me. You didn't lie. You can't be dead, because you love me too much to ever let me go.
Ryou. He's lying, because I can see you, in his eyes. He's hiding you. He wants you all to himself. My beautiful, brutal, bludgeoning thief. Mine – the word echoes in my mind. My twisted, warped, insane little mind. You're mine because you love me. You can't have left because you love me.
I've had my fair share of grief, and mourning. The bitterness, the anger, the loneliness. I know what it feels like. This can't be it because I'm frantic, not numb. I'm panicked, not calm and collected and crass.
Ryou. Ryou, he's a dirty little liar. He was your dirty little liar, but then you found me instead. You left him because you love me. You'll stay with me, because you love me.
The boy, the liar, he's crying and murmuring and touching my hand.
He's gone, Ryou says. He's not coming back, Ryou lies.
I'm sure I saw you – that flash of red, that brilliant magenta of blood-red hues dancing and smirking in his eyes. But you left as quickly as you came, and Ryou, his eyes are softer than before. His face is relaxed. His smile is sincere.
Ryou must be lying. You wouldn't die because you love me.
My eyes fix on his chest, the jumper looking oddly empty without the brilliant gold to accompany it. I expect the flash of metal, the familiar smirk – but it never comes.
I miss you. Do you miss me? I miss you because I love you.
Mine. You're mine and I can't find you. The liar, the pretty little liar, he says I can't see you. You're mine and he won't let me! My beautiful, brutal, bludgeoning thief.
You held me, kissed me, hurt me. You beat me; abuse me, because you love me. You cut my flesh and ate the sticky red liquid, and I in turn drank yours - drank Ryou's. I pretended it was yours because I love you. Blood brothers, but on false terms, the redredred dripping down my neck like spilt poison. The slick red blood mixes like a bad cocktail as you take me.
You bruise me because you love me. You wouldn't leave, because you love me.
Misery loves company, but so does insanity. We danced together in a masquerade of violence, because I love you and you love me. We throw the word around like it's nothing but in reality, it's everything. It's one word, but it means so much. It means I'm needed, wanted. You were desperate for my skin because you love me.
Ryou, he says you left. He says you've gone. He lies and says you've died. But I can feel you, here, there, everywhere, your brutal bruising abuse brushing my skin in a whisper, your lips on mine. Biting and bleeding.
Ryou, he asks why I let you treat me like I did. I say I let you because I love you. I say I'll always let you hurt me, and he looks at me sadly. I can't see you in his eyes. His eyes are dull and brown and dead.
Dead like you. Dead like my heart. Dead like our love.
Ryou – pretty little Ryou. I'm scared he's not lying. I'm terrified that you left me. You didn't leave me because you love me. You let me go because you died.
I'm a tiny speck in your ancient age, a second of my lifespan. But to me – to me, you are my world. You are everything because I love you. Loved you. You consume me, torment me, devour me. You hurt me because I let you and I let you because you want me. Do you love me? I love you.
Ryou, my voice shakes. Let me see him. I want to see him!
Ryou looks at me, mouth slightly parted. I want to kiss your lips but they're not yours. I want to press my lips to his lying little candy-pink tongue and make him stop talking. I want to kiss him and pretend it's you.
Ryou, I repeat – let me see him. Bring him out. Stop hiding my beautiful, brutal, bludgeoning thief. He's mine! I want to see him.
He looks at me blankly still, those dull dead eyes boring into mine and I wonder what he sees. To him, it must be insanity. To me, it's emotion. All I can feel is passion and love and fear and hate. I guess I got that from you.
I want to see him, I cry, because I love him.
Ryou softly says that Bakura's not inside him anymore. He says that you're dead.
Ryou, pretty little lying Ryou; poor submissive Ryou. He doesn't know that these are the last words he'll ever say.
My hand claws at his throat, desperately scratching and biting and clawing. I'm an animal, a monster. I'm inhuman. You always were a bad influence on me.
As his dull brown eyes grow frantic and burning I expect the skin beneath mine to feel cooler, expect the body to resist and push me down. I expect to look up and see you above me, smirking, and lap at the blood on my hands. But you don't. I don't feel your anger and bemusement radiating from your lips, I don't feel your pride in my violence in your touch. Instead, all I feel is Ryou's blood, your coppery slick red blood, the fingers digging and searching and tearing. Pulling his neck apart, muscle and skin catching in my nails. Ryou, his dull dead eyes are deader still and he goes limp in my arms. Poor pathetic Ryou, too scared and sad to go down with a fight. Submissive Ryou, he died like he lived. For you. For us. We use his body and we mutilate him, for we are the beautiful thieves. We stole his body and I never expected you to give it him back.
I hope you didn't do it because you loved him. I hope you'll come back. I hope those dull dead dead eyes snap open, burning crimson. I hope those pretty pink lips curl into your perpetual smirk.
I figure, Ryou's skin becoming colder and more and more like yours, that if you won't come out, then I'll come find you. He's hiding you. Even in death, he won't like you go. Ryou is a dirty little liar and you haven't left me. You love me.
My hands are ripping and tearing. They devour your skin, Ryou's skin; your pale skin translucent beneath my fingertips. These fingers, they're my brush – Ryou's blood, my paint, and your shared body my canvas. I mutilate you, dissect you. I rip Ryou open like a casket because I know you're in here somewhere. He's hiding you because he loves you. I'm going to find you, because I love you.
The sad thing is, it slowly dawns on me that he's hidden you too well. I begin to realise that maybe, just maybe, you don't want to be found. You don't want to be with me because you don't love me.
But I love you. Isn't that enough?
Ryou's body, it's just ribs and lungs and blood and muscle. The skin I tore flaps like broken wings. Chunks of organ reside in my clothes, my hair. Ryou's candy-pink lips torment me with his smug little pretty lying smile so I tear them, bruise them, abuse them. Ryou's body lays rotting and stinking on the floor because you're not there. I thought I'd find you – you were inside Ryou's body. He was hiding you there. He was hiding you because you're not dead, and you're not dead because you love me.
Loved me.
Didn't you?
In the midst of my insanity, I wonder where you are. Do you have a body? A body to stink and rot and decay, like Ryou does? I hope you do. It makes you human. It makes this easier.
Ryou lays on the floor in a smudge of blood and veins and skin, my pretty little insect dissected and raided. You would be proud, I figure, Ryou's throat just an empty space where cells and oxygen and blood and bones used to be. You'd be proud of my violence. Of this twisted art of murder and mourning. You'd be proud because you love me.
My beautiful, brutal, bludgeoning thief.
I mutilated Ryou because I love you. I tried to find you because I love you.
Please, Bakura. Find me. Deliver me. Save me.
Because you love me.
Please?
