Hello everybody! Here's a little oneshot I've been sitting on for a while. I'm not sure whether or not it is any good, but I wanted to post something in honor of Ryou's birthday (dorky, I know!). Parts of this are actually based on personal experience, which made it slightly more difficult to write. But, I hope it turned out alright.
This can be seen as a miniature prequel to my other fic, Infighting, however it does not have to be read that way. Basically, the back story is that the yamis and hikaris have separate bodies, and it is about three years after the end of the Memory World arc in the Anime.
Enjoy!
Melatonin.
3MG.
Clinically Studied Ingredient.
Nighttime Sleep Aid.
Directions: For Adults, take one tablet at bedtime as Melatonin may produce drowsiness.
Ryou rolled the small plastic bottle back and forth in his hand, as if weighing the bottle against his will to toss it down on the floor and run away screaming. He idly chewed on the thumbnail of his left hand, staring silently at the bottle in his hand, still with indecision.
"Just buy it," Bakura said, his voice indicating annoyance at his light's twenty minute inner turmoil over the purchase of an over the counter vitamin supplement. "It couldn't hurt."
Ryou remained silent, the only indication he even gave Bakura that he was listening was the slight pursing of his lips. He rolled the bottle back and forth again, as if this motion would help speed his decision making. He bit down on his left thumbnail, his canines meeting as they broke through the nail's thin skin. Ryou held his silence, rereading the labels and rolling the bottle in his palm a few more times.
"Honestly," Bakura said, obviously exasperated, as he snatched the small plastic bottle out of his hikari's pale hand, and holding it up to the other boy's face as if that would make him see somehow. "How long has it been since you've slept?"
No response, just the sound of the other boy biting through his nail once again, continuing to stare at the bottle in Bakura's hand. The increasingly more frustrated yami was fearing he had reached his wit's end. It was obvious, just by looking at him, that Ryou had not slept in a few days. His large brown eyes were dull and bloodshot, and they were circled with bruise-like smudges. Ryou's skin was paler than usual, and just general appearance looked somehow unsettled, ruffled, unwell.
"Ryou," Bakura found himself saying, speaking the boy's name aloud. The name sat foreign on his tongue, a new word to try to add to his vocabulary, leaving behind an unwelcome taste that was both all to bitter and all too sweet, "How long has it been?"
A brief twitch in the appearance of the other white haired boy, and he chose to remove the digit he was gnawing on from his mouth to finally speak, "Four days."
"Four?" Disbelief, mixed with anger, and Bakura was growing increasingly close to wanting to tear out his hair over this whole mess. His hikari had gone four days without sleep without so much as batting an eye over the potential consequences of such an action. Or perhaps, Ryou knew that he was irritable and exhausted to the point of illness, but he simply didn't care. For Bakura, this was just plain stupidity, which was grating his nerves because Malik kept hounding him to "intervene" and "help Ryou put." Pathetic, but here he was..."Buy the pills."
"But-"
"But nothing," Bakura all but growled. "You haven't slept in days. You're buying the damn pills." Still holding the plastic bottle of melatonin in his closed fist, Bakura began walking determinedly toward the check out counter on the local grocery, noting happily that after a moment Ryou chose to follow him, albeit sluggishly.
"I can't afford them," Ryou finally stated as they had nearly reached the counter, his voice barely even a whisper. His eyes were downcast, and a faint blush could be seen lighting his pale cheeks a light pink. "I have rent to pay this week... And I'm saving for school..."
"Is that what this is about?" Bakura was seriously beginning to lose his patience with the whole situation. Ryou said nothing, just resumed his destruction of his left thumbnail by use of his teeth, hiding his eyes behind snowy white bangs. Bakura let out some kind of strangled snarl of a noise, and inexplicably stomped over to the counter, and slammed the bottle of melatonin onto the conveyor belt along with an arbitrarily chosen pack of gum. He wordlessly handed the money due over to the cashier, and seeing that Ryou had made no move to follow him, Bakura grabbed him by the left arm, successfully detaching his nail from the destructive mouth and towing him along to the exit.
"Why?" Ryou wondered out loud, as Bakura continued to drag him by his wrist.
"Because your insomnia is irritating me," Bakura all but spat, noting that he still had the other boy by the wrist, but chose not to be bothered by this fact and continued to pull his other along toward the train station. He honestly had no explanation other than the one he gave to his hikari; he was simply put off by his other's stupid decision to keep himself awake, and when the side effects of such decisions typically interrupted Bakura's regular routine. It had made the other man just annoyed enough to trick the boy into coming to the grocery store with him (following a nine hour shift at the restaurant where Ryou spent working away many of his summer nights), claiming to need a few things when honestly the only thing he needed was something that would put this kid to sleep already. "Here," He said after a moment, handing the pack of gum to Ryou, "Chew on something other than your fingers."
There was silence as the walked toward the train station which would get them back to their respective places of residence. They boarded with little said between them, just a simple dropping of a captive appendage, and the half an hour ride was spent largely in silence, only broken as Ryou idly rolled the bottle of pills in his right hand while he chewed on the fingernails of his left, gum left largely ignored.
As the automated voice above told the two that their stop was approaching, both stood stiffly and headed for the exits. Upon stepping into the cool night air, Ryou finally turned to Bakura. "You tricked me into going with..."
Bakura raised his eyebrow, and asked, "So?"
"Why did you do that?"
"Because I'm sick of dealing with you when you look like the living dead," Bakura said simply.
"You tricked me," Ryou repeated, more anger filling his weak voice as he said it.
"I did," Bakura confirmed steadily, "Because you wouldn't have gotten them if I hadn't."
"Oh, so now you know me so well that you can predict my thoughts?" Ryou's eyes flashed, and it was suddenly apparent that he was livid. "You do not know whether or not I'd have gotten them."
"You wouldn't have," Bakura responded, crossing his arms at the sudden attack. "You're kidding yourself if you believe otherwise." He turned, and the two walked in silence for a few moments.
"You could have just asked me to get them," Ryou said quietly.
"Are we still discussing this?" Bakura snarled, obviously reaching an extreme point of irritation.
"I don't understand why you tricked me," Ryou repeated.
"Because, you would not have gotten the pills if I had asked you to get them," Bakura said. "Because I have asked you to get them several times now, each time asking you, telling you, almost fucking begging you to get something that will just let you sleep, and every single time you do nothing other than get angry and insist that you haven't got any trouble sleeping and tell me you'll get them if it gets any worse, but you never do. So, yes, I tricked you into coming with to pick up some pills to help you. Sorry, I guess." Bakura exhaled loudly when he was finished.
"I was going to get them,Malik's been on my case for a while and I was – I was going to get them," Ryou said, so very quiet. "Once I got paid this week, a-after I paid my rent... I was going to get some. Now... Now you've tricked me and made me feel stupid over something I was going to do anyway."
Bakura shrugged. "So? You've still got them. What's the problem?"
"You..." Ryou started, obviously stuck and struggling on the verge of speech, his large eyes flashing and it was oh so apparent that he was furious, simply furious. "Why did you have to trick me?"
"Because you had no intention to stop lying to me," Bakura replied with a shrug. "Don't bother denying it; we both know you'd have lied through your teeth for ages to put off buying a sleep aid. Ra forbid you admit you have a problem you can't fix on your own."
"I'm used to problems like that," Ryou murmured. "What the hell do you think you are?"
Bakura snorted. "Just go home. And sleep."
"Why should I?" Ryou retorted, sounding childish and clenching his fists at his sides in a rather childlike manner. He was stiff, frozen between indignation at having been tricked and now being told what to do (he was nineteen years old, for God's sake, he'd been on his own since he was fourteen and now somebody chose to start bossing him around) and the cold hard truth that there was legitimate reason to listen to the Thief's command.
Bakura rubbed his temples in frustration. "Because, if going without sleep doesn't kill you... Which it will, by the way, Malik tells me that people cannot survive more than ten or eleven days without sleep, which is the rate you're going... Anyways, if that doesn't kill you, I will."
The threat hung heavy in the unmoving, cool late summer night, weighing down the streetlights' glow before Ryou's eyes. He narrowed his eyes, and idly chewed a hangnail on his left hand for a moment, weighing his next words carefully in his mind.
"I am not afraid of you."
Bakura frowned at these words, seeing as they had provoked the exact opposite of the reaction he had been going for. It had been an empty threat, they both knew it, but the threat was supposed to make him... make Ryou give in, bend to his will as always because there was no other option if his hikari valued his life at all.
And the thought that perhaps that was just it... that perhaps Ryou did not value his life... Bakura frowned deeper. Well, if his hikari was stupid enough to be passively suicidal, then he would have to become more active in his prevention techniques... Though, to be perfectly honest, Bakura did not know why. He only knew.
"Come on, damn it," Bakura mumbled, grabbing the boy by his wrist again, ignoring the weak struggles and whispered protests. "You will sleep tonight if I have to knock you unconscious."
"Why do you even care?" Ryou demanded, wriggling and squirming harder and harder as they neared his shabby studio in building downtown which had hardly aged well since being erected in the late nineteen-twenties. "Why does it matter to you if I sleep or not? You don't have to be around me anymore! You're choosing... you're coming 'round and bothering me of your own volition! Why? What do you want with me?"
Bakura stopped, staring at his hikari openly, realizing as his mouth became dry with the realization that he had no real answer to provide. He did not know what held him captive to the draw to his light half; he was uncertain even why he was so concerned over the boy's sleep and health. Bakura only knew that he did concern himself with these seemingly trivial things, and that there was little to be done in the way of changing that. His only response was to tighten his grip on his hikari's left wrist (which thankfully had halted the constant nail biting which the yami had never noticed before tonight, but was now driven to near insanity by the mere sound of it), and literally began dragging the protesting teen into his building of residence.
Bakura felt he owed the boy no explanations, and therefore the insomniac would not get one. He noticed the boy grow less adamant in his struggles as they mounted the stairs, until, as the pair of white haired me reached the landing of the fourth floor where the smaller of the two called home, it appeared as if Bakura were merely leading Ryou, or even odder, that they were simply holding hands.
"Why are you always around? Why won't you leave me be?" There was a pleading present in these words that had been absent before. "There are no Items anymore, nothing to seek out revenge to the Pharaoh. You don't need me...don't need my body! So why won't you just..." He tugged at his captive wrist violently, but to no avail, "Leave me alone."
Quiet, quiet words. Hardly any life to them, Bakura noticed. It was like sleep talking, only the speaker was, on a technicality, still awake. Pathetic.
As they reached his apartment, Ryou dug his keys from the deep pocket of his dark pants, and opened the door wordlessly. He said nothing as the Thief dragged him inside, simply tugged his arm away from its captor upon crossing the threshold. He was released, thankfully, but still felt like a prisoner to the other man. Ryou turned and locked the door, sighing as he removed his shoes, noting that the other man had not bothered to do so, and had tracked his dirty sneakers into the tiny kitchen where he was rummaging through Ryou's likely barren refrigerator. "Won't Malik wonder where you are?" He asked, entering the kitchen himself.
"I'm sure he has better things on his mind," Bakura retorted in response to the question about his roommate. "Here." He set down a small glass of milk on the counter just in front of Ryou.
"What the hell is that for?" Ryou asked, wondering if sleep deprivation was anything like being drunk. He certainly didn't feel sober; bold questions of that nature were not his usual style (which, to be honest, was to sit back and say nothing, do nothing, fade into the background).
Bakura looked positively murderous, and he forcefully brought Ryou within inches of his face with a tug on the collar of his work uniform. "You are going to take those fucking pills."
"And if I don't?" Calmly, too calmly in the face of a known killer, yet Ryou could not shake the calm from his voice, nor could he force the sluggishness from his thoughts as he realized he was being shaken violently by the former inhabitant of his mind.
"What-part-of-you-will-die- are- you- having- trouble-comprehending?" The Thief spat, his crimson brown eyes flashing dangerously, as he shook the boy on his spot. He released the other boy none too gently, and Ryou felt himself bounce lightly off the overhead cabinets of his miniscule kitchenette. "Take them. Now."
"No," Protested a loud, and likely foolish, voice in his head that spilled unchecked from his chapped, bloodied lips. "I won't. I do not want to."
"Why not?" Demanded the other man, dangerously close, far too close. He could snap Ryou in half, and the exhausted hikari was entirely aware of this fact. The Thief could kill him in the blink of an eye without an ounce of remorse, yet something inside of him insisted on rebellion... perhaps because it was among the first times where obedience was not guaranteed by the threat of a flash of the Millennium Ring and a trip to the bowels of his soul room, buried in the back of his mind.
"Just don't want to," Ryou murmured. "Shouldn't have to."
"You are stubborn," Bakura remarked, inwardly seething (yet slightly impressed). "And very ,very stupid. You will die, don't you understand? You will die if you keep this up."
"Why are you so afraid of death?" Ryou wondered out loud.
"Why aren't you?" Bakura spat back.
There was a pregnant pause, in which neither man got the answer he desired.
"If I take these pills," Ryou said at long last, his right hand firmly held to his mouth as his teeth acted like clippers against the offending nails. "Will you leave?"
"No," Bakura responded, crossing his arms. "But I'll consider it if you go to sleep."
"Like I'd be able to sleep with you here," Ryou snorted. But nevertheless, tired of fighting (and just plain tired), he selected two tablets from the bottle (twice the recommended dosage, but the Thief needn't know this) and swallowed them with a gulp of milk. "Happy now?"
Bakura shrugged, carefully to keep his appearance for the most part indifferent. "Go to bed."
Ryou raised his eyebrows, and swept from the kitchen silently. Bakura followed him into the small bedroom just off the kitchen. Ryou sighed in defeat, rummaging through his drawers in search of sweats to change into from his horrid waiter's uniform. He stared down his other half, eyes cold, and crossed his thin arms over his equally thin body. "Leave."
"Not a chance," Bakura scoffed, taking a seat at the foot of the lonely looking twin bed shoved into the corner of the small bedroom, his eyes narrowed as he seemed to examine every move that his hikari made. "The second I walk out of here, you'll just go throw up those pills and sit up all night staring at your ceiling."
Ryou said nothing, just glared the the nearly identical man perched upon his uninviting bed and pressed his chapped lips together.
"Gods, you're still doing that then?" Bakura muttered. "Used to drive me insane whenever you'd do that. Worst vessel I could ever imagine; wouldn't even rest. Spend more than half the night worrying on useless things like friends. "
"Couldn't," Ryou murmured, fighting back a yawn that pulled at the muscles in his jaw and made his eyes water. "Couldn't sleep, not wouldn't."
Bakura shrugged. "Was there a difference?" He raised his eyebrows as Ryou refused to respond yet again. "Always awake at night, staring desperately at your ceiling. Pondering those pathetic 'friends' of yours... Praying to some strange God, thinking you could communicate with your dead sister and mother... in Heaven. Worrying over the fact that months had passed without so much as a telephone call from your father, all the while just staring, staring at the damned ceiling..."
Ryou flinched at that, and his fists tightened to white knuckled grips on the items of clothing dangling from his hands. "Shut up." His voice was steady and low, and there was a spark of defiance present in his eyes again. It brought his whole appearance back to life, lighting his cheeks in his fury, straightening the slouched posture to one more fitting of a fighter. Those chocolate eyes narrowed, and he voice all but hissed, "Get. Out."
Bakura watched this transformation, interested in the sudden change. His curiosity would drive him to insanity, he knew this quite well, so he pushed further, wondering how much more it would take before his little hikari finally fought back. "So, Daddy hasn't called?"
Ryou said nothing, simply walked silently from the bedroom and into the tiny bathroom only a few paces away. Bakura followed him from the room, not so easy dissuaded from his quest. Truly, he had been attempting to help the boy (or else Malik would never let him be) and force him to sleep if that was what it took, but now a more pressing interest had come about once the word "father" had slipped past the former Thief King's lips. "Can I correctly assume that to mean 'no'?"
The door swung open, quickly far too quickly. Ryou, dressed in loose fitting sweats, stood, eyes blazing. "No, he has not called. Not in years, in fact." They locked eyes for a moment. "I suppose I can thank you for that, seeing as he cut me off because of all the money you cost me while you were gallivanting across the globe with my body."
Bakura shrugged. "You bought the airline tickets," He said casually.
Ryou's mouth opened and closed several times, as if he were a fish, stupidly watching its reflection as it did something spectacular; lost for words. "I..." he paused, still staring in shock at the other man's words. "I had no choice. You didn't give me one! If you weren't threatening the lives of my friends, you were sticking knives into me in order to get ahead in your plans! How the hell was I supposed to say, 'No, really, I'd rather not' to you when you practically had a gun to my head! You controlled me! Forced me to do your bidding even when you allowed me the privilege using my own fingers to purchase those tickets."
Bakura blinked once or twice, unsure of how to react at his usually even tempered hikari losing his composure like this. "Hikari-"
"Do not call me that," Ryou said, his voice threatening. "I'm not your light; I'm not your anything, you sick Thief! Nothing but maybe one of your victims!" He grabbed a fistful of his own snowy hair and pulled, as if that would somehow ground him in more sane, calm thoughts. But the moment Ryou's eyes found the Thief standing, almost paralyzed, in his hallway, words began pouring from him like a burst dam. "You ruined my life! Lost me countless friends, pushed my father so far away from me that he's ended up disowning me because of all the trouble you caused! Stole my body, hospitalized me... twice! For what, I don't even know! And just when I finally think I am done dealing with everything you've done to me, when you just leave me to deal with your mess, when I can start to rebuild my life, you come back!" Ryou emitted some kind of startling snarl from deep in his throat; a sound that caused his usually unflappable darker half to jump in surprise. "I hate you. I hate everything about you! You've stolen everything, taken everything away! My body, my name, my appearance, my friends, my family, my whole fucking life! And then you left me. Just left me, after taking everything away! All because you wanted it, and now I've got nothing! Nothing but you!
"So, yes, if I seem unwilling to catch some sleep, unperturbed by the thought of leaving this Earth, unconvinced that you are attempting to help me, perhaps it is because you've wrecked every single part of my life thus far, and I do not trust you not to fuck it up further. I can honestly say that I would rather die than let you 'help me'."
Such anger was put into each syllable, and the display was... frightening for Bakura, who watched helplessly as Ryou recounted each and every one of his sins against his light. He wanted to do something, something that would end this senseless rambling, sooth the sudden anger, and redirect the conversation to getting an obviously exhausted boy to sleep before he collapsed here in the entry to the toilet. Bakura was hovering on the verge of speech, words foreign and timid perching precariously on his hesitant tongue. In his mind, he was urged by an unfamiliar voice urging him to spit out the right combination of words, the correct password to these hidden thoughts within the former spirit.
They came, slowly and halting, "I am sorry."
These words seemed to deflate Ryou's rage; his demeanor shifted quickly back to that of an exhausted teenager. Shoulders slumped, eyes glazed over with the kind of tiredness that wouldn't be cured with a simple night's sleep. The boy felt his strength drain as his anger slipped away fluidly. "No, you aren't," Ryou said softly. "You don't need to lie to me."
Bakura wanted to protest, but he found himself tongue tied in the wake of his hikari's words. Was he lying? Did it even matter at this point?
"Please, just go," Ryou said, turning on his heel and closing his bedroom's door. Bakura heard the lock click, and then no noise came from inside.
Taking up residence on his hikari's couch, Bakura mused over the out of character words he'd spat, almost thoughtlessly, at his former landlord only moments before. Was he sorry? Were it the past, the answer would have been so seamless, so simple. A snort of sarcastic laughter. No. Of course he wasn't sorry; he felt no remorse. (He felt nothing.) He needn't be sorry for his past deeds; he'd had a goal and the harm come to the boy was hardly intention and it might have been somewhat unfortunate that he'd been hurt in the process... But it was certainly not something to be sorry for.
Then again, this wasn't the past anymore. And when you lived with a psychology student hell bent on "understanding" you... Bakura growled lowly to himself. Malik was most certainly to blame. He'd been the one force feeding Bakura ideas about redemption and second chances since the former tomb robber happen upon the (then homeless) Thief in one of Domino's parks about six months before. They'd since become roommates (seeing as how Ryou was never going to put up with Bakura staying near him), and as such Bakura found himself spending many nights listening to Malik dump psychology terms he'd learned the college he attended on the Thief.
Oftentimes, Bakura wrote the whole thing off as simply a new variation on Malik's insanity, but lately... Lately the words seemed to make more sense. Lately he'd been feeling so strange, so impacted by things said around him, to him, about him. Malik said that was human; that was normal. Bakura was not a fan of normal if it made him stupidly apologize.
He flopped back on the couch for a few minutes, then chose to check in on his little hikari before he left for the night. Quietly making his way to the door, Bakura pulled a paperclip from the pocket of his jeans and used to it quickly pick the lock. After a small click, the door swung open, revealing Ryou sleeping in his still lit bedroom atop what appeared to be a pile of papers. Curiosity getting the better of him, Bakura gently (or a gently as he was capable) pulled the papers from there prison under the sleeping boy's arms and face.
Glancing them over, Bakura determined these papers to be letter, written to some "Amane." After a few minutes, Bakura recalled this to be his hikari's dead sister. He scanned the letters, uncaring that he was invading the boy's privacy. They'd shared a body and a mind; there was no such thing as privacy in their relationship.
"Dear Amane... I honestly don't think I can take much more of him and his meddling. What does he even want from me? ...Is this a game to him, seeing how miserable he can make me before I just take a header off of the nearest bridge? He probably wouldn't even care if I died... I probably wouldn't either. ...It gets so lonely here, Amane. I miss our family... I miss having a family. Dad... He hates me. All because of that Thief. At least before I had Dad, but now I have nobody but this sinister shadow who is hell bent on ruining what's left of my life. I can't even sleep, I stay up all night just worrying because I know I've alienated myself and being lonely because I'm too stupid to let anyone in... and I think I'm really starting to lose it, Amane. I really honestly do. I can't sleep, I can't eat... I feel like I just sit around, hating him and feeling sorry for myself. ...I feel so powerless... I wish I could actually talk to somebody, but I don't think anybody else would care to listen. ...As if you'd care either. You're dead. How sad is that? I have to to talk to the dead to get anybody to hear me... This is his fault; his influence is what's talking. He makes me feel so goddamned powerless, but I have to prove to him... no, prove to myself, that I'm not as weak as he thinks... I'm not weak."
Bakura frowned at the letter before placing it back on the desk. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his hikari move, and Bakura froze to the spot. But when no assault of words came he knew the boy remained asleep, and as the thief stepped back out of the room he watched the boy as a frown creased his pale face.
Something that felt a lot like guilt welled up inside of his gut, and Bakura stomped off to the kitchen. After a moment of searching, he stumbled upon a small telephone book with an international number scrawled across the cover. When he received no answer after a few rings, Bakura chose to leave a message. Doing his best to impersonate Malik's steady voice, he allowed the recording a brief statement. "Hello Mr. Bakura. I am a friend of your son's. He has been having a rough time lately, and his friends are really worried about him. I think it would be beneficial if you contacted him; maybe it would cheer him up a bit. Thank you."
There, now he'd "done something". Malik could leave him the fuck alone about it already. Content with his contribution, Bakura swiftly left the small apartment, locking the door behind him.
Another night, slaving away as an always under appreciated member of an unstable wait staff; this is what Ryou's Thursday night consisted of. With his shift drawing to a close, the white haired teen grew more and more tense as he anticipated what (or, technicality, who) would meet him the moment he stepped outside the unremarkable diner. The only thing he could look forward to was the summer drawing to a close, and with it ended a lot of the tourism on this side of Domino. As such, Ryou had agreed to vacate his beloved position at the restaurant until next summer, and would happily return to his regular schedule at his far less stressful part time job at a local bookshop.
It was with this bloom of optimism that Ryou clocked out, untying his loathsome apron and cursing himself for ever having agreed to take on this seasonal torture, mentally calculating the number of hours he'd need to log in the place until he could officially leave (forty-five). As he had come to expect in recent months, Ryou spotted another head of white hair not far from the restaurant's parking lot. Leaned against the brick of the building the Thief's watchful henna eyes followed his every move from the door until they were merely steps apart.
"How much longer are you going to keep this up?"
A shrug; the Thief never seemed all that interested in most of their interactions, yet he showed up every night after Ryou got off work and essentially escorted him home. They're conversations were stunted at best; the previous night being an exception to the rule as Ryou broke his silence and let the Thief have a piece of his mind. It was a rare occurrence, but even mild mannered people had their limits on just how long they can put up with such a meddlesome presence.
Bakura watched his hikari with interest. He noted (happily?) that his other did not look as exhausted as he had the night previous. Of course, he still looked horrifically tired, but there was certainly some improvement in his hikari's movements and demeanor. Pleased with himself, Bakura allowed himself what might have been considered a smile when the boy turned his back on him (unwise; his hikari trusted even him too much) and lead the way to the train station.
As they stood side by side, waiting for the arrival of their train, Ryou found himself puzzling over a fact that he'd cautiously avoided all day, afraid it would eat him alive unless it was met with immediate confrontation. Turning to face the former inhabitant of his mind, Ryou frowned. "You apologized." He sounded accusatory.
"So?"
"Did you mean it?" Ryou thought it sounded childish, but he was too eager for the answer to care much.
Bakura smirked, though inside he was filled with uncertainty. He couldn't say that he'd meant to apologize; but there had been some truth in his spat out instance of remorse. Choosing a more familiar route, he chose to glance sideways at his hikari and answer thusly: "What do you think?"
Ryou seemed to deflate ever so slight, and as he turned to face the platform he mumbled, "You're a right bastard, you know?"
"I do," Plain and simple, and Bakura answered without so much as a blink of surprise. The two boarded the train without another word. The majority of the ride was spent in a hardly comfortable silence, with each boy occasionally glancing over at the other.
Ryou sighed, wondering aloud, "Did you only come back to drive me to insanity?"
Bakura snorted. "Were that the case, I doubt that the Pharaoh would have come back too." Though his hikari merely treated him to a roll of the eyes, the hate that had bubbled quietly under the former thief's skin rose for a moment. It was a familiar feeling, which came about every time the Pharaoh was mentioned. What was unusual was how quickly the feeling faded. It was becoming commonplace for his hate, which had spanned thousands of years, to simply fade from his thoughts when something else came to mind. The something else happened to be the look of confusion on his hikari's face.
"What?" Ryou demanded, breaking the Thief out of whatever thought he'd been lost in. "Why the hell do you keep staring at me?"
Bakura chose to ignore him, standing simply as the station pulled into their stop. They walked, silent as usual, back toward his hikari's apartment complex. The night was cool for summer, and clouds had blotted out the stars and moon (much to Bakura's irritation; he was truly growing sick of the constant clouds here). He could feel a frown tugging at his lips, but quickly rearranged his features when he noticed his hikari glancing at him.
As Ryou opened his mouth to say something, rain began dropping, cold and painful, upon both heads of snowy hair. "Damn," muttered the smaller boy, glancing skyward as the rain began pouring down in buckets, as a line of lightning lit the sky. Ryou glanced back at the Thief, who was looking positively murderous with his sopping hair and soaked clothes. Despite his better judgment, Ryou found himself feeling almost sorry for his yami, and muttered, "Come on then."
The two raced quickly inside Ryou's building, and upon walking inside his almost chilly apartment, Ryou had to admit to himself that this evening was more pleasant than the last. At the very least, he and the Thief hadn't gotten into an ridiculous arguments... and it seemed that neither of them was particularly fond of the pouring rain. Choosing not spoil the moment of calm, Ryou walked slowly into his kitchen. He noticed a light flashing on his answering machine, (this was a rarity these days) and pressed play.
The message seemed incredibly loud in the cramped little space. "Ryou... I received a call from your number yesterday evening. I'm not sure how one of your friends got their hands on my telephone number, but they seemed concerned about you. Though, son, I thought I'd made it rather clear to you when we last spoke that until you could learn to take responsibility for yourself, I would not be in contact with you. Please do not have these friends of yours call me again."
Ryou's hands dropped to his side; fingers feeling numb. He stared, ghostlike, at the machine and was suddenly tempted by the urge to smash it. Thumb nail, already bitten to the quick, found its way toward a mouth bent on destruction, and Ryou stood gnawing upon the bloody digit, allowing the coppery fluid to drip into his mouth and down his chin. His wide brown eyes looked almost unseeingly at the answering machine on his counter top, the only thing assuring him that this was not another terrible nightmare was the dull pain in his left thumb pulsing its way along his nervous system.
The call came from my number... The thought lodged in his brain, and suddenly it was so clear, so very clear because nobody had been in his apartment apart from himself...not a soul other than the Thief.
Anger sparked in him so quickly it was startling. It was a quiet, cool kind of anger... Smooth and dark, rather and spikes and fire. He walked, calm, into his living room where the Thief had been standing, staring at an old black and white photograph of Ryou and his sister Amane when they were children. Without preamble, Ryou spoke quietly, "You called my father."
Bakura turned, (almost) startled by his hikari's sudden appearance. It took a moment before the impact of the words fully registered with the man. He found himself lost for words, frozen by the strange tone his hikari's voice had adapted. "I... Yes, I did." Defiance, perhaps to the point of stupidity. He watched his hikari's eyes narrow, a cold, unsettling look fixed upon him.
"You called him, because you thought I wanted to hear from him? Am I right in assuming that?" Ryou's cold, flat voice asked. Bakura was (slightly) alarmed when he noticed the bloody dripping onto the carpeting from his left thumb (there was blood on his face too; had he bitten those bloody nails again?). His hikari's cold voice cut across his thoughts. "Well, am I?"
"I suppose," The Thief muttered.
Ryou's eyes flashed; pain and anger reflecting in them for a split second. "You think I'd want to speak with the man who disowned me over nothing more than some irresponsible spending? Which, by the way, was all because of you. Why on Earth would I want to speak with the man who had never been a parent to me, who abandoned me before I was even fifteen. The man who brought me that damned Ring, who brought me you, who ruined my life... Yes, you're so right Bakura, I so desperately wanted to speak with him."
"I..." Words caught in his dry throat. Bakura was out of his element; this level of defiance, of anger, of power in his hikari was completely new to him. He wasn't sure how to act, what to say.
"I hate you."
"I know," Not meant to inflict pain; no biting tone; no disgust. Just an admittance of knowledge. Bakura was hated and he knew it (and perhaps he even thought he deserved it).
"I want you to leave," Ryou said quietly, steel in his voice which was commanding in a way that Bakura had never heard before.
The Thief thought better of the words he'd been about to say, and stood stock still, staring openly.
"Having a hard time understanding that one?" Ryou asked sardonically, tilting his head to the side in mock sympathy. "Here, let me help you out." So swiftly, suddenly, the smaller boy was upon him, grasping a fistful of the Thief's sopping t-shirt front and pulled his yami with strength that his other was unaware that he had until Ryou had forcefully removed Bakura from his apartment.
The Thief stood, silently, in the hall, feeling a sense of inexplicable finality as he stood there in rain soaked clothing, white hair sticking to his pale face as he watched with henna eyes as his hikari pulled the door closer to its frame without actually closing it.
"Don't come back," Ryou had said, his voice steely and determined. "I don't ever want to see you again. Just..." and here he seemed to regain some of himself, acting not as the cold detached boy that Bakura had been growing used to in the past months, but the compassionate and sympathetic boy of the past. His eyes held a shred of sadness as his hand closed around the door handle. "Just go. Good bye."