Ryou was by himself one saturday and decided to take a shower.

He felt dirty. His hair was greasy and his armpits smelled like really old room-temperatured butter.

He was, quite frankly, disgusted with himself as he soaked his entire body in cheap, white shower gel to get rid of all those feelings of beeing unwanted or extremely filthy.

Ever since he could remember, he had always felt like an outcast. Someone that looked so ugly that anyone in their right mind would stay the fuck out of his way. They could catch something.

They could become as ugly as he was, and he wouldn't want that, would he?

One thing he hated about himself was that he was hairy. To a normal person, those fine strands of blond hair wouldn't show, but to Ryou, they looked like thin black sticks growing from inside his body, piercing the skin, to just keep on growing and growing.

So he shaved his entire body, except between his legs, who was going to look in a place like that anyways? Besides, he didn't like shaving at such a sensitive area, if he would make a cut there it would sting and hurt like hell.

When he was finished removing all his unwanted body hair, he began to massage lotion into the skin. To his fat and so unattractive, scarred thighs and entire legs, to his, even more fat stomach.

He pressed together a little bit of the skin from his arms between his index finger and thumb and made a face. He was so ugly. Hairy, dirty, unattractive, and unwanted by all.

He wondered if his yami shaired his thoughts. Why not go ask?

No, he couldn't. Bakura would get really frustrated and start scratching his knees against the wall and then peel of the skin. He would inflict himself pain, because he said that that was better then hurting Ryou. Makes sense.

Or not.

And for the second time that evening, Ryou thought of suicide.

How he would do it, who he would call or not to call, what he would write in his last will, he literally tried to cover all the details. But failed after fifthteen minutes of deep considoration.

So he walked back to his cold bed, his ugly back hunched and feet dragging slowly on the floor. He felt drained.

Eyes closed and lips slightly parted, his breathing began to get more deep as he feel into a dreamless sleep. And in the cold embrace of the sheets, he could have sworn he felt strong arms wraping themselves around his tiny form.

Ryou now finally doubted that Bakura shared his thought of him being ugly…

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This is written from Ryous perspective, kind of, but it's my own experiences that made me so annoyed with myself, that I just had to write a fanfic out of these disturbing feelings.

Review, if you're not to lazy, and have a wonderful morning/evening and try not to be so fixated about your own bodyhair for a little while... Like I am, most of the times... Not so good, no --" Meeh. I'm tired and I need to go to bed. I hope I'm not going to dream some hairy monster is going to rape me... Scary thought. .. Indeed.