Three is a Crowd, Four is a Nightmare

There were three voices in the mind of Ryou Bakura.

The first was the voice of Ryou himself, the small, innocent silver boy with silver hair confined to one small corner and barely saying a word. Ryou loved each of the dangerous spirits inhabiting his mind in his own way, but did that mean he loved himself? After all, weren't they just the other parts of him?

The one known as Bakura, the one with the manic grin, had all the knowledge of the modern world, memories of the past and the pure insanity three thousand years locked away had cursed him with. Bakura loved the one whose body he possessed for giving him a body, giving him life again, and yet despised him for being so kind hearted and innocent.

Then there was the one known only as the Thief King, dangerous, deadly, with eyes of pure evil and with a jagged and dangerous scar running down his cheek. The Thief King hated his modern self, the insane one who taunted him just by Being there in his mind and reminding him of their past, their pain. Each of them hated each other and therefore hated themselves, because after all, they were one and the same.

So, while they barked insults and threats at one another, the innocent one sat and watched, and took any insult thrown in his direction more lightly than most since he had become very used to it by now.

Now, there was a forth voice echoing through the souls. This one was deep, emotionless and full of the evil of a being who cared about nothing and no-one. This one was on the outside looking in, and yet its presence wandered the corridors as if it were meant to be there. Ryou hated the forth, hated the lack of emotion in those deep purple eyes, and hated the evil laugh that echoed through his mind.

But while Ryou cowered in his corner and avoided looking in his direction, Bakura let him into his room each and every night. They loved and hated each other at the same time, had sex out of spite and tasted each other's flesh, leaving blood stains that weren't even visible since the room was filled with blood anyway.

The other? He was a thief, and on occasions, he would steal the purple eyed nightmare away from Bakura, but it wasn't the same. Flesh was bitten, blood stained the floor, but there was more hate than love. The fourth spirit hated the thief, because he hated everything, and the thief hated him because he wouldn't give him what he gave Bakura.

He would never admit to being jealous, but that didn't stop him from trying to make Bakura feel the same. That was the only reason he paid any attention to the innocent one in the corner, and was the only time Ryou was truly happy.

Of course, he would never let on about his own nights with Bakura, because he never said a word to either of them. After all, what better way was there for Bakura to make the other self he hated jealous than to spend time with his 'lover'?

Within the confines of the mind shared between Ryou, Bakura and the Thief King, jealousy reigned, so did love and hate, but most of all, peace. Because the three were bonded, and so was the outsider, none of them could escape, none of them could be killed.

So it went on, and the outsider laughed, satisfied that he had caused complete chaos, as usual.