A/N: Second Installment in the Nervosa Series. As always, I appreciate each and every single review. If you could take the time to drop me a line to let me know your thoughts on the story, I would be entirely grateful.

Enjoy!

Habits:

Chapter 1

Even from beneath the shield that was his quilt, the morning sun's rays managed to pierce his shelter and hover over his face, causing red and yellow spots to float around in the darkness behind his eyelids. He groaned, turning from his side onto his back. He swung an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the intruding sunlight. But the universe was insistent that he wake early on this snowy November day, evident by the pillow that was thrown at his person - a gesture carried out with discernible annoyance.

"Get up." The demand left no room for argument.

But he protested anyways. "Leave me alone," he growled from deep in his throat.

"I said," – another object hit him, this one not nearly as soft as a pillow – "get up."

At the impact of the second projectile, Atem shoved the blanket off his face, his eyes narrowing in on the man on the other side of the room.

"I haven't slept in days," Atem hissed.

"I don't care." The other man brushed his hair back with his fingers, using an elastic to tie the thick white curls together into a ponytail. Some of the shorter strands immediately escaped and fell back into place to frame his face. "We'll be late if you don't get up now."

Atem turned his glare from his half-dressed companion to the ceiling above him. "What a waste of fucking time."

"Well, if you'd rather go to jail, by all means." The man flicked his wrist in the direction of the door with a small wave of his fingers.

Atem's lips pursed into a scowl, eyes still trained on the dots on the ceiling tiles. "You'd never find another person that would agree to live with you, Bakura. You'd be out half the rent."

His companion's brown eyes looked thoughtful for a moment. "You may have a point," Bakura said, pulling a fresh shirt on over his head. He shrugged it into place. "Though it may be worth it to see you in that orange jumpsuit."

Atem didn't respond, but instead rolled into a sitting position on his bed. He leaned forward to put his face in his hands, rubbing at his eyes with the bend of his arm where his palm met his wrist. His head was pounding, and the thought of Advil was more alluring to him than crawling back under his quilt.

Standing to his feet, Atem staggered into the bathroom, his hands immediately finding the corners of the sink. He leaned forward against it then exhaled, before lifting his eyes to meet his reflection. Not for the first time, he noted how his eyes, once a dark scarlet, had lost some of their color over the years, dulling to an almost auburn shade.

The twenty-three year-old raised one hand off the sink to turn on the facet. Then, he cupped both hands under the cold running water, letting the liquid pool, before splashing it over his face. He shivered a bit from the sudden chill and looked back into the mirror, watching the drops drip from his blond bangs and down his cheeks.

His face had thinned out some in recent years, most likely due to the changes in his eating patterns since his adolescence. He no longer engaged in purging behaviors, now finding even the idea of it repulsive. However, to compensate, he found himself stuck in a whole new type of disordered eating. This consisted of going days without eating followed by a short time period of binging. Despite this rather unhealthy habit, he remained on the lower end of what was considered a 'healthy' weight, and no one would ever to think to question him on whether he was eating enough based solely on his appearance.

For him though, it was never really about his weight – not even when he was a teenager. With age, he had become more insightful when it came to his eating disorder, realizing that the purging had been an internal way for him to exhibit control and, in doing so, compensate for the external loss of control he had felt in his home life. Now, as an adult, he felt his disordered eating had less to do with control and more to do with his emotional state. When depressed, Atem lost all traces of an appetite, and thus all desire to eat for days at a time. However, those times where he felt more labile and energetic, his appetite would roar back to life with a vengeance, triggering his old binging behaviors.

"Atem." Bakura's voice slid under the door. "Your phone's ringing. It's your sister."

"Just ignore it. I'll call her back later."

"K."

Atem sighed and bent down to open the cabinet below the sink, scrimmaging for the bottle of Advil. Isis, he thought, straightening back up with the container in his hand. He had missed his older sister dearly, and the first four months after he left the house were some of the hardest - for many reasons, yes, but one of the main reasons being that he had to temporarily cut off contact with her.

The first time he spoke to Isis following his run away was on his eighteen birthday – an intentional day given that he would be a 'legal' adult, and his family would not be able to utilize law enforcement or child services to force him back home. Even still, she cried that first phone call and begged him to come home. And he cried even harder when he told her that he couldn't.

Since then, his contact with both Isis and his mother was limited and sporadic in nature. During their first few phone calls with one another, despite Isis' insistence, he did not dare meet with her in person out of fear that her presence, familiarity, and comfort would speak volumes to the sometimes overwhelming loneliness within him and drive him straight back into the home that drove him away when he was seventeen. He instead told both her and himself that he would make plans for them to meet up in person once he was ready to confront his past. However, as the days turned into weeks, and his anxiety continued to feed off the likelihood of an emotional setback or fallout from seeing his family again, the months quickly turned into a year and a year turned into five.

Shortly after he fled from his home and the memories trapped within those walls, his intense feelings of shame, guilt, and disgust took on voices and shadows of their own that followed him wherever he went. However, after years of drug use and alcohol abuse, the voices had turned from a screeching wail to a dull echo in his head, and he had since learned how to coexist with them.

His lovers were frequent and ever-changing, and he never let them stay around long enough to impact his life in any way, shape, or form. Any person who attempted to pursue anything more than what Atem was willing to offer, he intentionally sabotaged without hesitation. The only person - or the only memory of a person - that he held no intentions to manipulate or alter was none other than his first love, Yuugi.

As much as Atem tried to avoid thinking of Yuugi, every now and then, the other would creep into his thoughts without his permission. It had been so long now that Atem could only faintly remember what it felt like to be in Yuugi's presence and the emotions that those lilac eyes stirred within him. Despite his inability to recall those memories clearly, the one thing that he did know without any doubt was that no one he had crossed paths with since had awakened similar feelings.

No longer blinded by the fog of self-loathing, Atem had years later recognized the other's glaring affection for him. The painfully obvious connection that existed between them was the driving force behind those nights where he picked up the phone with the intention of reaching out to Yuugi. But he never did actually call him, Yuugi just being another connection that he was not ready to rebuild and another memory that he wasn't ready to confront for fear of the possible backlash in doing so. He had long since accepted that he would probably never gather enough courage to reach out to Yuugi. Besides, he would reason with himself, it would've been unfair to drag the other back into the past, especially if Yuugi had gotten to a point in his life where he had long put his monsters behind him.

Even still, in the depths of his despair, he longed to see those bright eyes again, and the nights that Yuugi snuck into his thoughts were some of the hardest, for Yuugi brought with him reminders of fleeting moments of peace and flickers of happiness that would offer Atem a brief break from his internal solitude, only for him to return to that dark place when he realized that Yuugi was, in fact, very absent from his life. For days after these failed attempts to call the other man, Atem would usually seek out drugs and spend the aftermath locked in a haze, trying to purge his thoughts of those lavender eyes that always held the ghost reminders of adoration inside of them.

A sharp knock on the bathroom door brought him back to the present - to him standing in the bathroom, pill bottle in his hand. "If you are not ready to leave in three minutes, I will personally call our probation officer to inform him that you are skipping our court-mandated therapy. Hurry the fuck up, Atem."

Sighing, Atem shook his head, pushing the thoughts to the corner of his mind. He poured a few pills in his hand and popped them into his mouth. "I'm coming," Atem shouted back through the door. "Re-fucking-lax."

"Do you want me to come in?"

Yuugi kept his gaze on the moving scenery to his right, shifting in the passenger seat to find a more comfortable position. "No, Ryou, I'll be fine. Thank you for the offer though."

"Of course."

Yuugi leaned his head back into the seat, sighing softly at the snowflakes that kissed the window next to him. The twenty-two year-old turned his attention back to the road in front of him, as he tried to further bury himself into the car seat. This attempt to disappear into the leather might have been a reaction to his nerves, which continued to bubble in his stomach the closer they got to their intended designation.

At the recommendation of his current therapist, Yuugi had decided to attend a group therapy session. As his therapist explained, it would provide him with an opportunity to share in his struggle and successes with people who had endured similar experiences. It would also give him a chance to branch out and build connections outside of his own bubble. At first, Yuugi had been reluctant. But as he progressed (slowly) in his treatment, he found himself wanting to take steps to quicken the process of attaining his ultimate goal - finding inner peace and happiness.

Yuugi had spent most of his late teens and early twenties in and out of psychiatric placements for both his eating disorder and his self-harming tendencies, in addition to one prior suicide attempt that was thwarted by his dear friend, Ryou. He had been gradually progressing since his last discharge six months ago, though he did occasionally hit speed bumps in his treatment. Even so, he had managed to stabilize his weight some, and the scars on his wrists were now thin and faded with time.

More than five years had elapsed since his grandfather's passing and, though he had mostly recovered from his loss, the incident and its aftermath had left a noticeable enough void within him that Yuugi sometimes engaged in impulsive behaviors in an attempt to fill it. Sex, drugs, pain, hunger... the vice didn't matter to him, only the outcome of filling the emptiness inside of him, even if it was just temporary. In his darkest days, he would grasp at just about anything and everything that served as a means to that end.

Yuugi exhaled a deep breath and, out of the corner of his eyes, gazed at his friend, who had remained quiet and focused on his driving given the poor conditions of the road. Despite Yuugi's attempt to push him away during his adolescence (not to mention, Yuugi's sometimes selfish and unappreciative attitude towards the man), Ryou had stayed a loyal friend and was the only solid rock in Yuugi's life. By this point, Yuugi had formed a strong bond with Ryou, who was the only man he was ever able to maintain any sort of healthy attachment with. To some degree, Yuugi loved Ryou, and he knew that Ryou loved him, too - but their love was scarred with the conflict and turmoil they had endured throughout their friendship, and there was never truly a possibility that any sort of romantic relationship between them could survive. However, they were both content with this and with the bond that they did share, neither of them ever asking or needing more than what the other could give.

"What is going through that head of yours?" Ryou's smile was warm, as he flashed Yuugi a glance from the driver's seat.

"Oh, nothing really." Yuugi sat up a little straighter. "Just spacing out."

Ryou nodded, accepting his response with a hum. "You know who I ran into the other day? Jou. I barely recognized him - he was wearing a suit and tie." Ryou chuckled. "This is the same guy that wore sweatpants to school three days a week."

Yuugi offered the other a small smile. "Sounds like he's changed a bit, huh?"

"Yeah." He returned Yuugi's smile. "We all have, I guess."

Now it was Yuugi who hummed, his thoughts elsewhere. Other than Ryou, the only person who he had ever truly loved had been one of Jou's closest friends, Atem, who had disappeared suddenly from his life (and everybody else's lives) more than five years ago. The thought of Atem brought with it a memory of his own encounter with Jou, who he had run into shortly after graduation. 'I know he never said anything to you...' Jou had said to him, as they stood on the corner of the street, waiting for the light to change. 'But I really believe that he loved you... he talked about you constantly and -' Yuugi remembered the way Jou's face broke in, and the way the blond had averted his eyes to break away from Yuugi's own disbelieving stare '... Anyways, I just thought you should know.' Then the light changed and Jou walked away, leaving Yuugi to ruminate on the implications of the other's words on the corner of the street.

The new knowledge brought with it new regrets and re-opened a wound that had not completely healed. For years, during those nights where he found himself in bed with strangers, he laid awake and watched the unfamiliar faces turn and twist in sleep, and he would imagine that it was Atem he was looking over at. But, determined to forget the past and the despair that accompanied it, Yuugi never made any initiation to locate or reach out to Atem, even though he knew that the man was out there somewhere. He had only hoped that Atem had escaped the demons that he had run from all those years ago.

"We're here."

Yuugi looked up, blinking. "Huh?"

"We're here, Yuugi." Brown eyes softened. "Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?"

"Oh." Yuugi shook his head and went to unbuckle his seatbelt. "Yeah, I'm sure," he said, opening the passenger door. "Thanks for the ride. I'll call you later."

"Please do," Ryou said, as the other man stepped out onto the street.

Yuugi ducked his head back into the car to smile at him. "I'll be fine," he assured one more time before closing the door.

He waved at Ryou through the window and then looked up at the building in front of him. The wind was strong and the snow heavy, making him pull his jacket closer to his body and sprint inside. Nerves still bubbling, but motivation snipping at his heels, Yuugi found his way to the marked room and observed the circle of chairs placed intentionally in the middle of the room. Repeating silent affirmations in his head, he took a deep breath and walked over to one of the free chairs. He slipped his arms out of his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair, effectively claiming it as his, before he settled onto the seat.

"Yuugi..." The voice that uttered his name was both different and familiar, and Yuugi looked up to find himself sitting across from a pair of deep brown eyes with the faintest trace of a red rose hue. His heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

Atem…

The name, even just as a thought, felt like it was stuck in his throat. His stomach churned, his heart beating uncomfortably fast within its confines. Yuugi watched Atem, as the elder tore his gaze away from his to look everywhere around the room but at him. However, Yuugi's eyes never left the man who had, for a long time, haunted his nights. He watched as Atem put his hands on his knees and leaned forward a bit, looking as if he was going to get up and leave. But, after another moment, in which Yuugi watched several fleeting emotions flicker through those dark eyes, Atem sat back down against the back of his chair and just settled for staring down at his hands.

It was in this time, where Atem was still, that Yuugi tried to decipher the wave of twisting emotions within his chest. Joy, relief, shock. Atem's eyes were different; his voice deeper. Anger, confusion, pain. He looked taller and thinner, as if someone had stretched him out over the years. Anxiety, sadness, guilt.

Yuugi noted that the man sitting next to Atem, who bared a striking resemblance to Ryou, sensed Atem's apprehension, for he was regarding him carefully while leaning, arms crossed, back in his chair. The man whispered something to Atem, but Atem either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him.

The therapist chose that moment to introduce herself and welcome everyone to the session. Emphasizing that no one would be forced to share if they were uncomfortable in doing so, she opened the floor to everyone for introductions. A few people - including both Yuugi and Atem - opted out of the introduction piece, and once the conversation had come around full circle, the therapist began to explain the goals for these group meetings, as well as what would be the framework for future sessions. The session itself was only fifty minutes but, as far as Yuugi was concerned, it could have just as easily been weeks long.

When the session concluded and goodbyes were said, people began to trickle out of the room. Yuugi noticed the man next to Atem hesitate. Somehow, though, he must have gotten a gist of the situation, for he eventually got up and left the room, too. They sat there until the last person walked out, the door making an audible 'click' behind them. For the first time since he noticed Atem, Yuugi looked away, choosing to watch the floor in favor of the sad and beautiful man across from him.

It was still for another minute. And then a soft, barely discernable, "Yuugi…" traveled across the room.

But the smaller man did not look up, for he was suddenly afraid of what Atem might see. After another minute of silence passed, the sound of movement alerted Yuugi to Atem's intent to decrease the space between them. Yuugi's immediate reaction was to stand from his seat to dismiss some of the vulnerability that he was currently experiencing.

"Yuugi," Atem whispered again, now standing in front of him. "I…"

There was a long pause, and it was filled with words that had been left unsaid all these years. Atem struggled to find them, grasping for a single coherent thought to voice aloud. And, when he couldn't find one, he took another step towards Yuugi and, tentatively, touched the man's bangs with his fingers, letting the soft threads slide through them.

"You left."

Atem pulled his hand away, observing Yuugi's rigid form and averted eyes. "I did," he conceded with a nod.

It was only then that Yuugi looked up at him, his eyes imploring. "You left."

Atem held Yuugi's gaze. "I had to." Then another pause. "But I loved you," he said, though the words were rusty, years overdue.

Yuugi's response was immediate. "Then you should've stayed."

"I would've died," Atem insisted. The weight of the guilt Yuugi's words overwhelmed him, and he felt compelled to shift some of the blame from his shoulders back to Yuugi's. "You didn't ask me to stay."

Now it was Yuugi that faltered under the assigned culpability. "You didn't ask me to come," he countered, quietly.

Temporary silence ensued. "It was selfish to leave," Atem admitted softly. "I know that. I… I hurt a lot of people. But I didn't…. I didn't know it would affect you, Yuugi. At least, not much." Atem released the breath he had been holding. "I was so trapped in my own head… I'm sorry, Yuugi, I couldn't see you through the fog."

"Well, I saw you." Yuugi's anger crept into his words. "You could have saved me." Yuugi knew it was an unfair allegation as soon as the words left his lips, even before he saw the way Atem bristled at the accusation.

"I couldn't even save myself, Yuugi," Atem gritted through his teeth. "My spirit was breaking everyday I stayed in that house, in that life. Would you have rather I stayed so that you could've watched me fall apart?" That was unfair, too, but their emotions were getting the best of them. "Would you have rather -?"

"Stop."

The weepy plea silenced Atem instantly, and he immediately recognized their conversation for what it was. It was an attempt for them to alleviate their own conscious and displace their own guilt by throwing it in each other's faces. It was misdirected anger and blame that they held towards themselves, because they were unable to reconcile the idea that perhaps, if they had been stronger, braver, or less self-absorbed and had openly admitted their feelings years ago, than these past five years would have turned out differently – that they would have maybe experienced joy instead of heartbreak; intimacy instead of loneliness; and hope instead of despair.

Atem deflated at the realization. "Yuugi," he began, his voice a feather. "You were the only light in my life back then, and the times that you've managed to sneak into my thoughts these past few years provided me with sunshine in the darkest of my days, as short-lived as it may have been. But I need you to understand, Yuugi… I hated myself. Some days, I still do…" he trailed off for a moment, his eyes finding a far wall.

"I missed you." Yuugi's voiced cracked under the weight of his words, and Atem refocused his gaze on the younger man. The pearl eyes were shiny, the moisture in them reflecting the light in the room. "I missed you for years."

This time without hesitation, Atem reached forward and touched Yuugi's forehead with his fingertips, blinking back his own tears. "Don't cry, my light," he soothed, tracing his fingers down the side of Yuugi's face, catching the single tear that fell. "I don't deserve your tears."

The raw emotions that filled the room combined with the turbulence inside of him forced Yuugi to take a step back, away from Atem's touch. When Atem did not follow him, he took another step back. "I can't..." Yuugi placed his hand over his heart, his face scattered with emotions. "I can't breathe." He shook his head, as though he was trying to shake away some of the pain. He gave Atem one more emotion-filled expression, then grabbed his jacket off his chair and fled the room.

Atem stayed in his spot, his eyes dark with pain, regrets, and loss. As much as he wanted to chase after the younger man, it wouldn't have been fair to force Yuugi into a corner. After all… it was Yuugi's turn to run.