Paradocs: I recently joined a 'fic writing community on LiveJournal. Participants choose a character pairing, or just a character or series, and a set of ten prompts, which must be linked to love in some way, and write.
I chose the "Opposites" prompt, Bakura, and Ryou, and, well, I wrote this.
The other nine will come in time. But I WILL finish this. And the other stories and chapters I owe y'all. _

Disclaimer: I don't own Bakura, Ryou, or Yu-Gi-Oh!. Those are all property of Kazuki Takahashi, that talented man. I do, however, own this exact piece of writing.

Title: "Symbiosis"
Prompt: Simple
Rating: PG
Warnings: Shounen-ai [mild Slash], a small amount of swearing.
Summary: On the outside, it was simple enough. Anyone could name the relationship between the spirit and the boy. But they weren't correct. Not entirely, at least.


On the outside, it was simple enough.
Bakura needed Ryou in order to exist in this world; Ryou needed Bakura to ease the ever-present feeling of loneliness. It was symbiosis of a sort, albeit a one-sided symbiosis on Bakura's part.
Ryou's loneliness could have been easily erased if he had friends, and it wasn't as if the boy was unpopular at school. Hell, half of the girls in his class attempted to ask him out every day; the other half were too shy to even contemplate such a bold action. But Ryou always turned them down with that quiet smile, always saying that he was sorry, and then mumbling some half-assed reason as to why he wouldn't date the poor girl, who would burst into tears later in the day. And every time, Ryou would sigh, turn back to his studies, and become lost in his own thoughts, silently miserable for having made someone cry. But he just could not bring himself to answer those requests with a "yes". The word was a short one, easily said, but Ryou just could not date them, and it wasn't just because he didn't find himself attracted to them, like most of the other boys in his class.
And yet, despite all of this, Ryou always felt alone, though, to be truthful, he never really was.
You see, Bakura was his God. He had answered Ryou's prayer to always have friends to play with. He kept Ryou company, too, always talking to him through the mental link they shared. The spirit of the Millennium Ring rarely did anything to hurt his host, either, and even referred to him respectfully as his yadonushi, his landlord.
But Bakura was a jealous God, a cruel God.
His answer had been a cruel twisting of Ryou's request, turning the boy's friends into figurines for his Monster World game or cards in his Duel Monsters deck, sending the bodies into a coma while their souls were trapped in plastic and paperboard for all eternity. He would seize control of Ryou's body whenever he felt the whim, and he would use the body for whatever he wanted, even going so far as to inflict grievous wounds on it, if that was what it took to achieve his goals. Even his respect was mocking, acting as though Ryou were in charge when, in fact, he rarely was.
But Ryou would ignore this cruelty. He forgave Bakura for what he did to his friends, and would pick up the cards and toys with care, as though a single bent corner or bump of the plastic would destroy the souls inside. He would smile quietly whenever Bakura kept control of the body after sustaining an injury, glad that the spirit would not allow his own actions to hurt his host. And, most of all, Ryou grew to love being called "landlord", knowing that it was Bakura's way of granting him some control, some sense of ownership of the situation, if in name alone.
Still, the feelings of loneliness persisted. Day in and day out, he would sit at his desk at school, silently listening to the teachers' lectures or doing his homework. At lunch, he ate the food he'd packed for himself that morning alone, occasionally forced to join Yuugi and his friends at their table in order to keep them from worrying about him, from worrying that the spirit who shared his body was forcing him away from the "goodness" of friendship. And, if there was one thing Ryou hated, it was having people worry over him.
When Ryou went home, he was less lonely, though. He lived by himself, true, in an apartment complex near the eastern side of Domino City, and his apartment was, more often than not, almost entirely silent.
But it was during this part of his day when he could be with Bakura, when the spirit would appear in a nearly-transparent body that nearly mirrored Ryou's own, though the features were sharper, the hair a bit more wild, and the frame leaner, taller by a few inches.
Often, Bakura would lecture Ryou for some reason. He had been too quiet, too miserable-looking, he was weak, he was pathetic, foolish. The words were cruel, cutting, and should have hurt Ryou.
They never did, though. And Bakura knew that, too. The lectures were a routine, something that had to be done each and every evening to maintain the facade of a dominating relationship, where Ryou was hurt and miserable, Bakura was in charge, cruel and dominating, and there were no feelings between them, no mutual need or care for the other.
But after the lectures, the harsh words and icy phrases, then came the part Ryou liked best, when Bakura would just sit next to him and watch whatever Ryou was doing with silent interest. Then there would be no words, only silence, occasionally broken by Bakura asking a question, usually trying to figure out what Ryou was trying to do in his homework, or what he was making for dinner, or what he was watching on the television. And every time, Ryou would answer him, a short, simple answer that would seemingly satisfy Bakura's curiousity, and the spirit would nod, as if that was that, and the pair would fall silent again.
And yet, it was this silence, this pattern that they'd fallen into, that made Ryou happiest.
In science class, Ryou learned that two organisms would often form a relationship based on mutual need. One was the parasite, the one who fed off of the other. The other, the host, simply provided for the parasite, gave what the other wanted and, in return, received some sort of payment. For rhinocerouses, a species of bird would feed on the insects that lived on the large mammals' backs, and, in doing so, the bird was given an easy, readily-available food source, while the rhinocerous would be relieved of those tiny insects that had so frequently plagued it.
It was symbiosis.
For Ryou and Bakura, though, it was not quite that relationship. It was more complicated.
They were both the parasite.
And they were both the host.
Because Bakura needed Ryou.
And Ryou needed Bakura just as much.
It was simple.
It was symbiosis.
It was love.