Author Notes: Puffshipping as requested.
Ryou hated sports. He hated the aggression, the competition, the cheating, the underhanded tactics, the bad sportsmanship, the pressure for perfect physical performance. As such, he never, in a million years, would have gone to a football game. But it wasn't up to him, not this time. Joey had asked him to come to his games that season, at least all of his home games. When Joey turned those sad puppy eyes on him, it was impossible to say no.
He knew that Ryou had to work to pay rent, since his dad hadn't contacted him in over a year, so he understood if he didn't have the leisure to travel to the away games. Joey worked too, but he was serious about football. He knew he was no genius, and the only way he was going to move out of his dad's place was to get a sports scholarship so he could get to college somewhere far away.
The homecoming game was over now, and they'd won, not that it mattered much to Ryou, but if it made Joey happy, then it made him happy. Joey'd done a great job in the game, as far as Ryou could tell, and he was looking forward to going home and celebrating his success over a box of creampuffs.
Ryou leaned against the wall as he waited for Joey to come out of the locker room. He could have gone in if he wanted to, but he knew the animosity that he'd be met with in there. It was one of the main reasons that Ryou hated that his father had moved them here. At least in England, his orientation was accepted. Here, in a small town in the middle of nowhere in midwestern America, people judged him, bullied him, talked down to him, condemned him, persecuted him, and he couldn't do a thing about it. He was used to a degree of isolation and separation from the people around him, but this was worse than anything he'd ever known. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if his father were around…
He knew the rumors. People never said them to his face, but he heard them anyways. He always did. Some people claimed that Mr. Bakura abandoned his son because he was ashamed of him. The rumor would circulate for a few weeks, die out for a while, then resurge with a new twist, a new lie added to make it more plausible, more entertaining, more vicious. He knew deep down that they were lies, but when he was upset, he couldn't help but wonder...
If Ryou had known that he'd be facing such prejudice in America, he would have resisted their leaving London. But he'd heard that tolerance was growing in the States, and he'd assumed that this applied to everywhere in the States. He'd been wrong. Sure, major cities like New York, Seattle, and Los Angeles were sure to be safe for people like him, but they hadn't moved to a major city. They'd moved to the most homophobic town in the whole country. At least, that's how it felt to Ryou.
Just last week, there was a shooting at a gay bar in Orlando by a Muslim extremist, and the stigma surrounding him seemed to grow as a result. The only people who would even go near him now were Joey and Marik—who, being a peaceful Muslim himself, also suffered unjust stigma, especially after last week. Marik and Ryou had been united by their persecution, and while they didn't agree with each other on everything—Marik didn't think homosexuality was okay and Ryou didn't think Islam was true—they simply agreed to disagree and respected each other's beliefs. Why couldn't the rest of the town learn how to do that? Wasn't that the kind of freedom this country was built to protect?
Marik didn't suffer as much as Ryou, though, because he had a family, a whole one: two parents, two siblings, a safe, happy home. At least he didn't go home to a cold, empty house, trying to pay the bills all by himself. At least he had a family to comfort him when the gossip was too harsh, to encourage him when he didn't want to go back to school ever again, to remind him that he only had to stay here until high school was over, then he could flee to somewhere more accepting.
Ryou didn't have any of that, so it was no surprise that in the two years he'd been living here, he'd drafted his suicide note at least half a dozen times and planned his own demise at least as many. He never followed through, though. Something always held him back. Fear, hope, love.
Despite all odds, he'd actually managed to find love in this harsh, forsaken place. Joey had been his friend from day one, never expecting to fall in love with the Brit's pale hair and gentle eyes. But he had, and he'd finally confessed it that summer, the summer before senior year. Ryou was glad that he hadn't waited any longer to do so, because Ryou had been dangerously close to his breaking point.
Their relationship was secret, though, at Ryou's insistence. He didn't want Joey, the only popular jock who was also a decent person, to suffer because of his association with Ryou. Joey'd been sticking up for Ryou and fighting his bullies all along, every chance that he could, so that didn't need to change, but Joey couldn't join him and Marik for lunch. He had plenty of friends and teammates that would be expecting him to sit with them anyways. It would make him stand out too much, and Ryou knew exactly what that felt like. He didn't need Joey to suffer too. He wanted to keep seeing Joey smile like he had been every day since the day they met.
Ryou pulled up the zipper on his dark blue hoodie, trying to make himself warm in the chilly autumn air. The sun was setting, and that made it even cooler outside. Most people had left for the homecoming dance, but for some reason, Joey was taking longer than usual. He felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his jeans, and he pulled it out. He had a text from Joey.
"Meet me inside."
That was weird. Ryou avoided going inside locker rooms as much as possible, but as far as he could tell, all of the other football players had left, and Joey was the only one remaining inside. He hesitated for a moment, then went in, figuring that Joey had a good reason for this. When he entered, he saw Joey's gymbag on the bench, but no Joey. He went further in, opening his mouth to call out his boyfriend's name, but before he could make a sound, a large, meaty hand clamped down over his mouth and nose. Panic jolted through the thin teen as he was dragged backwards into one of the shower stalls. He tried to fight, but his attacker was bigger, stronger, and ruthless. He shoved his victim against the wall, a sickening sound echoing faintly as the side of Ryou's head slammed into the wall, making him squeeze his eyes shut.
Disoriented and terrified, Ryou opened his eyes. He wasn't surprised to see who it was. Jack Miller was one of the most vicious homophobes on the football team, as well as one of their best linebackers. He was huge, and Ryou began to feel sick as he realized he didn't stand a ghost of a chance trying to fight back against him.
"So you like being fucked by men, huh?"
His slurred speech told Ryou that he was drunk—no surprise there. He leered close, still covering the lower half of Ryou's face with his hand as he reached for the other's belt and began to undo it. Ryou tried to push him away, knowing that if he didn't physically resist, he stood no chance at persuading anyone that he'd been forced. He already stood no chance at convincing anyone that this was happening, but it made him feel better to know that at least he'd put up a fight.
Jack used both hands to seize Ryou's wrists and push them above his head, and while he was distracted with that, Ryou lifted a leg to knee him in the crotch as hard as he possibly could. Jack shouted, dropping Ryou as he clutched at his family jewels in pain. This was his chance to escape. Ryou slipped away as quickly as he could, thinking that he actually had a chance to run away. After four steps, though, he cried out, painfully restrained as Jack yanked him by his hair with one hand, the other still coddling his bruised ego.
"You little bitch!" He was enraged, and if he was going to hurt Ryou before, then he was most certainly going to break him now. He shoved Ryou down so that he sprawled awkwardly on the bench, still halfway on the floor. He landed with a grunt, the breath knocked out of him as pain shot through his ribs. The pain made him start to cry, whether he wanted to or not, and as he felt those large, rough hands tugging at the waistband of his jeans, he cried harder.
"If you scream, I'll twist your little neck until it snaps," Jack growled, making Ryou shudder. "Got it?"
Ryou nodded, biting down on as his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself for the pain.
"Hey! Whaddya think you're doin'?!" Joey's scream of violent indignation made Ryou sigh in relief. He remained huddled where he was as he let the other two duke it out. Joey won, of course; he wasn't as big as Jack, but he was both strong and sober, which gave him the advantage.
Ryou was too dazed and upset to pay attention to what was happening, and only became aware of his surroundings again once Jack was gone and Joey was gently pulling his pants back up.
"It's okay, bud, I've gotchya. I kicked his ass good and hard, so he'll never bother you again."
He propped Ryou into a sitting position in order to fasten his belt, then helped him to stand. Ryou sagged against Joey, exhausted from the altercation.
"I kicked him in the balls," Ryou murmured weakly, making Joey chuckle a little.
"Atta boy," he praised, kissing the top of Ryou's head as he held him close. That was when he noticed Ryou's head-wound.
"You're bleeding!" Joey exclaimed, surprised and panicked. Ryou reached up and touched the part of his head that ached, surprisingly calm when his hand came away bright red.
"Huh," he muttered numbly as Joey helped him to sit down on the bench before rushing to grab some paper towels and the first aid kit. Something caught his eye along the way, making him stop and scowl into Jack's forgotten gym-bag.
"So that's where my phone went," he muttered, snatching his cell out of his teammate's bag and shoving it in his pocket before returning to Ryou and pressing a folded paper towel to his head. "Hold this in place," he instructed, guiding Ryou's hand to its place before opening the first aid kit and rummaging about for the things he needed.
"What happened, Ryou?" he asked as he squeezed the instant cold pack, giving it an impatient shake before pressing it into Ryou's other hand and guiding it to his bruised ribs. He hissed as the cold came into contact with the hot, swelling pain of his fresh injuries.
"You texted me," he answered slowly, trying to recall how it had started. "You told me to come in, so I did, and he…" Ryou's voice broke, and Joey paused in preparing the bandages to kiss Ryou's small mouth.
"I get it, you don't have to say anything else," he murmured, trying to keep his anger in check. He was better than his father, he reminded himself. He pulled away Ryou's hand so he could wipe the wound with a damp paper towel and get a better look at it the cut itself. "I thought I lost my phone and went back to the field to look for it. I lost track of time, the realized it was dark and came back to this…" He sighed, then looked down into Ryou's teary eyes. "He texted you, not me. I can't help but wonder if he planned all of this, or if it was a spur of the moment thing."
Ryou could only shrug in answer to that. He had no idea, and there was a way in which it didn't matter to him.
"Did he do anything else to you?"
Ryou glanced up at Joey, recognizing that look of vengeful fury in his eyes. The Brit shook his head.
"He didn't do any physical damage that you don't already see," he answered softly, looking down at the ice pack in his hand. Joey gently unzipped Ryou's hoodie and shifted Ryou's hand inside his outerwear so that it could do a better job of numbing the pain. Then he finished patching him up in silence.
Joey was used to doing this: taking care of Ryou after a beating or a fight. He always had that numb reaction to everything afterwards, so Joey wasn't surprised by that. He was surprised by how far things had gone this time. He helped Ryou to stand, afraid that he might have a concussion.
"Where did you hit your head?"
"The wall." Ryou lifted a hand to point to the smudge of drying blood on the shower wall, then to the second smudge on the lockers.
"Come on, we're taking you to the police station," he said, putting an arm around Ryou's shoulders to guide him.
"What? Why?!" Ryou jerked back, startled, and almost lost his balance. He would have fallen down if Joey weren't already holding him.
"Because we need to report this." He looked down at Ryou, surprised that he needed that explained to him. "We'll get him arrested for assault, battery, and attempted rape. Heck, why not throw in underage drinking while we're at it? I'd love to see him go down."
"They won't believe it, though," Ryou informed his best friend quietly, slipping his shaking hand into Joey's steady one. "It's best not to say anything."
Joey gaped at him. "Are you thick in the head, or somethin'? If we don't report it, he'll get away with it!"
"They'll say that it's impossible for him to have tried to rape me because he's not gay," Ryou explained numbly. "Which is a stupid argument to make, because the vast majority of men who rape other men aren't gay, but they won't know that, and they won't care. If I tried to tell them that, they'd say I was lying, even though there are studies to prove it. They'll say that I'm making it up, that I'm lying because I want to get him in trouble. They'll write it off as playful fighting. They'll say no harm was intended. They'll say I provoked it somehow, that it's my fault, that I brought it on myself, that it's God's punishment for me being gay. They won't want to listen to anything I have to say."
"Ryou…" Joey didn't know what to say. He knew way too much about this kind of thing for this to be the first time this had occurred. How much research had he done on the subject that he knew those statistics off the top of his head? "Has this happened before?" He couldn't even say the words out loud, he had to utter them in a horrified whisper. Ryou looked away, shrugging with one shoulder.
"Not with him, but they were just as unsuccessful as he was," he muttered. "I tried reporting it the first time it happened, but I quickly realized that nobody was going to listen to me."
"When was that?" Joey asked softly, putting his arms around Ryou in a warm hug.
"About a month after my dad left. I think they thought I was lying because I wanted attention."
"That's terrible." For several long moments, Joey felt powerless. Then he glanced back at the shower, the lockers, and an idea came to him. He released Ryou as he spoke, pulling out his phone. "If they won't believe you, then we need to give them some physical evidence." With his phone, he snapped a few pictures of each blood-smear, then picked up one of the cellophane wrappers for the medical supplies he'd used it.
"What are you doing?"
"His fingerprints are on your belt. I'd like to see them try to explain that away," Joey answered with smug determination.
Covering his hand with the plastic, he carefully removed Ryou's belt and rolled it up tightly, putting it in a plastic baggy and sealing it carefully.
"Now we're going to the police station," Joey said after putting the first aid kit away, throwing Ryou's belt into his gym bag, and slinging said bag onto his shoulder. "I'm not willing to let him get away with this if we have a fighting chance of incriminating him. Are you?"
Ryou shook his head hesitantly, and Joey pecked his cheek.
"Nobody hurts my love and gets away with it."
"I can't believe you did it." Ryou smiled faintly as he sat beside Joey on the couch in his otherwise-empty home. "I didn't think we stood a chance, but you… you did it."
"They sure did get nervous when I threatened to go to the state police so they could be forced to investigate." Joey smiled back at Ryou, putting an arm around him and letting him lean against his shoulder as he continued to ice his bruises. "Didn't you love the look on his face when they brought him in, all handcuffed an' ev'rythin'?"
"Yeah." His chocolate eyes darted back up to Joey's face. The gratitude he felt for Joey was ineffably vast. "I can't thank you enough for what you did back there, Joey. You're my hero."
The blond was touched by Ryou's praise and dabbed a fresh tissue to his cheeks as more tears fell from those expressive eyes. "I'll be your hero anytime," he promised, giving Ryou a tender kiss. Those pale arms went around the blond's neck, holding him close as the kiss deepened and the blond gently guided the Brit into position on his lap. The cold pack fell to the floor, forgotten.
"I love you, Joey," Ryou whispered earnestly, his hands resting on those strong shoulders as his beloved's hands wiped away the last traces of his tears, cupping his face affectionately. "I love you with all of my heart."
"I love you to the moon and back," a breathless Joey answered, moving one hand away from Ryou's face so he could put a supportive arm around his waist. They were illuminated only by the moonlight, since Ryou hadn't wanted to turn the lights on when they got to his house. He was incredibly cautious about the utility bills, but besides that, he thought the moonlight was romantic.
As Ryou kissed Joey again, his partner's hand slid into his hair, caressing his head as his pants began to feel a bit too tight.
"Ryou, is this what you want?" he asked, pulling back so that he could study Ryou's face. He hadn't asked that question since their first time laying together, but after the events of tonight, he wanted to be especially certain that Ryou didn't feel pressured. The last thing he wanted to do was be insensitive.
"Nothing would make me happier, Joey, than to make love with you." Ryou's words made Joey blush, but he didn't stop there, continuing to whisper into his boyfriend's ear until Joey's face had turned scarlet. The bullied Brit may seem sweet and soft and meek—and most of the time he was that way—but he also had an uncanny ability to talk dirty to Joey until he squirmed with need.
Finally, Joey gave in, holding Ryou carefully as he stood from the couch and carried the other teen to his bedroom.
"I'm glad you're alright," he murmured against Ryou's ear, his breathing uneven and his voice gritty with arousal.
"I am thanks to you," he reminded him with a smile as Joey lay him down on the bed. "Now fuck me until I scream, you—"
Joey kissed him hungrily and desperately, Ryou's hands rubbing his back as he welcomed the attentions and responded in kind. For a brief, lucid moment, Ryou realized that Joey needed him as much as he needed Joey.