-walks in-

Yeah. I'm as shocked as you are. It's been a YEAR. And two days. Hehe. I dunno, I just had an idea. And also, Hate and Love were my most reviewed oneshots. I'd like to keep the trend you know. -hintpoke-

Dunno if I'll make a fourth part. Just in case, don't hold your breath. -.-

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I knew how to make Origami. All I can make is a shity frig that can't jump. X.X'

Why was he even doing this?

Ryou sighed as he creased the yellow piece of paper in his slim fingers. A flower. A small smile formed on his face as he continued to fold his piece of origami. He winced, dropping the soft grin in pain. It hurt to move the left side of his face, but the bruise was fading. Ryou looked up, staring around his pale blue walls. His darkness had a tendency to hit Ryou in the face more than any other part of his body. Not that he didn't at least try to find justification in it, or course. Ryou chuckled bitterly under his breath. Why were all of his affectionate gestures going to waste, he wondered as he completed the small flower. All he wanted to do was show Bakura that he cared. He almost pitied the yami and his disability to show emotions.

He only wanted to be friends.

Ryou's kneecaps creaked as he stood up, and he cringed slightly, arching his back in a long stretch. He stared down at the crumpled pieces of yellow paper –his failed attempts- at his bed, and one of his heartstings twanged. He had been there for a very long time, trying to make Bakura the perfect flower. Ryou sighed, and started to cross the floor of his soul room. He caught his reflection in the white-edged mirror that hung on a periwinkle wall, and did a double-take, staring at himself in the looking glass.

Was he ugly?

The question hung in the air for a long moment as he gazed at himself. Was he a runt? Ryou looked down. He was the shortest in his class –shorter than even the girls- and the thinnest. And he had the longest hair. Ryou eyed the white locks that trailed down to his waist, and his large chocolate orbs in his rounded, youthful face. Shame began to blossom in the pit of his stomach. Maybe that was why Bakura hated him. Because he was the runtiest boy in his class. Probably in all of England. Ryou looked down at his trainers, suppressing a sniff. His yami had never outright called him ugly, but what if Bakura had been thinking it all along? He stared at the flower in his hand. Was it worth it to even try?

Yes.

Ryou's heart skipped a beat as he clutched the doorknob to his soul room. It swung open with a creak, exposing the long corridor, shrouded in darkness. Who knew how long that hall went for? Asking Bakura only earned him a rough kick in the shins and a snarl. The twelve-year-old didn't really want to know. Ryou held his breath as he crossed the passage to Bakura's room. The tall door was thick, made of a dull grey iron. The white-haired boy swallowed as he grasped the bar-like handle, and pushed the door open. Bakura must have possessed his body again, because the room was empty. His nerves were calmed a little, with the knowledge that he wouldn't have to face his yami at the moment, and he gently crouched down on the cold stone floor. Ryou looked down at the bright yellow paper in his cupped hands, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile, despite the fading mark on his face. He set the flower down on the floor, and stood up, a small seed of pride in his heart swelling ever so slightly as he stared down at his little yellow flower, contrasting sharply with the dark stone floor. There was no way Bakura would have been able to miss that. As Ryou turned, closing the heavy door behind him with a soft click, he couldn't help but wonder.

What would Bakura think?

---

What. The. Fuck.

Bakura noticed the folded piece of paper on his soul room floor as soon as he relinquished possession of the boys' body. Crimson eyes narrowed, and his thin lips curled in a snarl. He stamped angrily out of the darkest pit of his chamber, glaring at the yellow flower. He crouched down, and seized the piece of paper in long, taloned fingers. The yami brought the paper up to his bloody eyes, which were narrowed to the point of slits. What was the meaning of this foolish piece of paper? That boy… Bakura looked at the paper once more, noting it's perfectly symmetrical creases and ruler-straight lines. It looked like a flower…

What was that boy thinking?

Bakura's razor sharp canines flashed as he snarled, and he crumpled the small flower in his hands. Rage started to build up in the pit of his stomach, at the indignity of being given a stupid piece of paper. What was wrong with that little runt? The yami angrily seized the handle of his door, dragging open the iron curtain. He was going to put a stop to this now. He stared into the utter blackness for a long moment, glaring at the golden thread of light emitting from Ryou's closed soul chamber. As he marched angrily towards the small boys' room, rage guiding his actions, Bakura never realized what Ryou was trying to tell him.

Ryou only wanted to tell Bakura he cared.

And there you have it. -.-' I was writing an English essay before I wrote this (Which was done in the space of half an hour, hehe) so I had Symbolism and Chracterization on the brain. It showed through a little, didn't it? I still don't get the question-answer thingy... o.o'

R&R?