My Miserably Interesting World

A/N: Well this is probably going to be like Sunflower Samurai and be only a couple of chapters long. I just finished watching Gravitation and it made me cry so much, I loved it, reminded me a bit of how I'm feeling lately (not the lovey parts, more like the sad parts). I wanted to write something, and I've lost the will to write anymore for Yami no Koi and Forbidden. So here I go.

(heh how depressing is this title?)

I guess you could say it was always a dream of mine. A dream I had always deemed impossible, which just made me feel bad. But as I stood there on that night and watched his silhouette, I knew that my dream was becoming true.

My name is Ryou Bakura. I just turned 17 and am now what I like to be called, a free-lance artist. I dropped out of college not long after starting. I know that seems like stupid thing to do, but I didn't care. I still don't care. It was a waste of time having to go to meaningless lessons and be forced to act nicely and politely to people I hated. I'll admit something now, I hate a lot of people. People abandon you, people think they care but would never really do anything if it came down to it. Most people… are pointless.

I sit at home, pencil tapping repeatedly against the blank page of my 3rd sketchbook. The other two ended up being filled with pictures I'd never want to show anyone, either because they suck or because they were depressing. Lately, I can't shake this feeling that I'm not really here. Everything feels so unreal and pointless. My parents keep having a go at me, saying I should get an education and cheer up, but what do they know? They don't understand anything I feel. They don't know how it feels to wish you were someone else so bad that you're willing to do anything for it… but then again be too scared to do anything for it. That's how I feel… I want to change so bad, but I can't because of my own stupid, childish fears.

With an aggravated sigh, I drop the pencil and get up from my seat. This is hopeless. I'm an artist, but I have no means of income, no means of selling my art and to top everything off, I have the slump… my own personal name for artist's block. And all this makes me think about is how fucking annoying I am to myself! Seriously I am the biggest hypocrite in the world… I am everything I hate.

I decide to go for a walk. I begin with just a toddle around my home. You know: up and down the stairs, to the kitchen for a drink I don't even want, back to my room to find the blank page and back down. So I guess I'll go for a walk outdoors. Got nowhere to go and no one to meet (seeing as most my old friends decided they wanted to get shot of me when I turned cynical). So I just walk, aimlessly around. It was already getting dark when I left, so now it's getting darker. All I can do it look at the ground and scowl at the random chavs that walk by me and look at me like I'm a girl who's easy. Like hell I'd be with any guy like that. That's not to say I rule out guys all together, it's just that pretty much every guy in this area is either a chav or is totally up his own ass.

I look at my watch and see that it's 8pm. Sure, not that late but it is dark. Damn winter. I shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket and hunch my shoulders so the collar covers my neck. I sigh, more sadly than aggravated like before. Seems my feet have led me to the park, which thank fuck is empty. I hate coming here usually because (yes you guessed it) chavs are everywhere (in case you didn't notice, I hate chavs).

I plop myself down onto the bench that's only a little behind me and watch the trees as they get blown about in the breeze. I always did like to watch the tree. I mean sure, it's like watching paint dry, but the sound is like the waves on the beach. It's… relaxing to say the least. It doesn't take long for me to sigh again and drop my head into my hands. Why am I like this? All I can think about is how much I hate my life and how much I hate the world and everyone in it. Heh, to be honest I'm surprised I haven't thought of suicide… but like I said before, I'm scared. I can't help it when the tears begin to bleed from my eyes. It's just like opening a scar; instead of a wound on my skin, my eyes are my wounds. They reopen and bleed everyday, every time, always. It's at times like these that I become the most pathetic and think through stupid things like, all the worst moments in my life; or all the song lyrics that fit my life; or on odd occasions I'll write a poem about it. Not so much these days though, not since I used up the last page of my notebook. I haven't the heart to go get another one.

I sit here, maybe crying, but not sobbing. The cold wind takes my breath away and my hair becomes tangled around my face and is stuck with the tears and snot. Not a pretty sight. And just then, from the corner of my watery eye, I saw it. I look up, realising I'm no longer alone. A silhouette stood beneath the nearest lamp. I just stare at him, only seeing a small glimmer in his eyes as he stares back. I can't see his face. His brown hair fluffs in the breeze and his trench coat blows around him. I continue to stare, ignoring the fact I have snot on my upper lip with hair stuck to it, thus giving me a rather strange moustache.

"God… you're a mess." He mumbled. He turns away and walks. My head moved to follow him until it reaches its limit. I scowl, using my fingers to brush away the hair.

"What's his problem?" I mutter to myself. Despite the rudeness and my slight dislike for the stranger, for whom I knew nothing but his silhouette, I found myself getting to my feet and walking in the same direction. By now he was quite a few yards away from me, but I can still see him. Man, he walks slowly. I'm walking at my usual pace and he's already getting closer. I slow down myself, not wanting to be noticed by him. My head is whizzing around, why the hell am I following this jerk?

'God… you're a mess.'

Is that it? I don't know, he talked at me like I was some kind of tramp. Geez, he's a cocky bastard. I guess I just want to know who he is so if I see him again I can… oh who am I kidding even if I did ever see him again or even if I caught up with him I wouldn't do anything. I'm just following for the sheer fuck of following him so I can believe that I might actually do something. But I know that if I did ever see him again… I'd just look at the floor and walk by.

He turns a corner and he's gone, but I know which way he went, so I'll keep following. I stepped forwards and I felt my heart skip and someone grabbed me by the jacket.

"Agh!" I hear my self scream, cussing inside for being so easily scared.

"Aw, and there was me thinkin' you were a babe." The bastards stinking breath hits my nostrils and I can't help but turn away. I can feel my heart racing, but I try to keep my cool. Although, that's rather difficult as to more chavvy twats appear behind him. Well I'm fucked now. God I must be mad, I'm probably going to get mugged here and I'm making sadistic like comments. But I am terrified. This is just my odd way of dealing with it.

"Well, it doesn't matter." One of the others says from behind. I can't see their faces; they're all wearing those stupid hoodies and scarves to hide them.

"Aw look, we've scared him." Another laughs. Damn I hate chavs.

"Piss off." I spit at the one holding my jacket. I grab the fist holding me and pull at it but it's not much use. The airs knocked out of me as a fist lands in my stomach and I drop to the floor. What the fuck did they do that for? I look up, wincing in agony, I'm sure punches to the stomach aren't supposed to feel this bad; but this query is answered when I see the knuckle-duster on the guys hand. Well, not a real one because I might be dead if it was real. Never the less it feels like my stomach just exploded. I can feel the panic rising as they all surround me. I fall forwards when a foot hits me in the back of the head.

"Agh." I scream again. My face just hit the floor and it wasn't a nice feeling.

"Aw look at him trying to get up." That stupid voice says again in the 'aw diddums' kind of way. The foot presses against my back and I wince as my arm is pulled up against my back. I bet you're all thinking, god how pathetic he's just lying there and taking this; but really you just know that if I fight back they're going to kill me or something. I wince again as I feel on of them searching my back pockets. I feel sick as I feel the hand on my ass. My eyes widen as I swear to god the guy actually feelsit. You know he doesn't just brush it with his hand but he actually 'feels' it. I feel a knot in my throat, as they all get uncomfortably closer.

"How about we have a little fun?" One of them says; I'm pretty sure it was the guy who is still groping my butt. Now I am fucking scared. I squeal as they begin to try ripping off my pants and jacket. The jacket comes away easily, but my jeans were a different matter. I didn't want to give them a chance, so did the only thing I could do right now… scream. I cried for help, preying to God that someone was around. But I'd never have even guessed what was going to happen next.

I felt a hand clasp around my mouth and I guess it was only to be expected. I still tried to cry out, but only muffled noises could be heard. I could feel tears burning in my eyes now as I was genuinely scared. My heart was racing in my chest and my blood was boiled. I just closed my eyes and wished for unconsciousness to take me; no such luck. There was a sound of footsteps, but I just assumed it was one of them. Probably getting their friends to come and have a go. What a sick idea. But when there was a kind of cracking sound and something falling near to me, I just had to look. I couldn't really see anything from my position on the floor. I could of got up as the guy holding me down had got up.

"W-hat d'ya think you're doing?" One of the twats whimpered. God they're all the same, they talk big but when they really face something big they chicken out. I weakly turned my head to what could only be described as an ungodly angle and could only just see from the corner of my eye, the guy whimpering and pretty much crying was lifted off the ground. I heard whoever my possible saviour was saying something, but it was too silent for me to hear properly. The chav was thrown to the ground and all three of them began to run off. God I hate chavs.

All I could do was lay there on the floor, my stomach still in agony and my head not feeling all to good from being shoved onto the ground. Footsteps came over to me and stopped, from what I could tell, just next to me.

"Get up." The cruel voice said… but I had heard it before. Despite my clear pain, I pushed myself up and looked at him. My eyes widened as (yes you guessed it), they fell upon the face of that jerk. He just stared at me, not showing any form of sympathy or worry; it looked more like annoyance. I scowled at him and looked at the floor.

"Thanks." I mumbled. I could feel the cold concrete of the ground seeping through my jeans and to my skin.

"Come on." He said and turned to leave. My head shot up and I looked at him with dismay. What did he mean by 'come on'? I didn't really want to stick around here, so I pushed myself up and began to run after him, but that's kind of hard when your legs fall asleep and you find yourself falling to the floor. I grunted in pain as now all my wounds hurt twice as much, and I noticed him glancing back at me. "What are you waiting for?" He said.

"I- I can't walk." I stuttered. The cold really gets to you fast when you've got nothing on but some cheap jeans and a t-short that barely counts as a layer. Where the hell did my jacket go? The guy sighed and walked over to me. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me up to my feet and I attempted to stand, but it was no good. He sighed again, this time more agitatedly. I lost my breath as my legs were pulled from under me and he began carrying my. Well this was awkward. Despite the kind gesture of carrying me, he still left me cold, so I spent the entire time shivering as he took me to god knows where.

I sat on the couch with the blanket wrapped around me. All I could do was stare at the floor; I didn't want to meet his gaze again. After we arrived at what I can only assume is his apartment, he wouldn't look at me, just like the whole way here, and then all I did was say thanks and he gave me a look that made my skin crawl. I guess I'd just hang here until the sun came up and get out before he tried anything. Not that he would… but just in case. Besides, it was late my now and it would only be a few hours until morning. I could just tell my parents I went to a friend's. Heh, like they'd buy that.

I felt myself flinch as he walks in the room and sits across from me. I have to say I was amazed; this guy has a huge apartment. There was enough room for an entire sitting area just in this room and then there were a few others that were only a little bit smaller. The furniture seemed expensive too, so I felt just a smidgen bad about getting my dirty trousers on it.

I began to peer up at him, but stopped just as his face came into view. It was so emotionless; and why did he keep staring at me? My fingers clutch onto the blanket and his eyes burn a whole through my head. I guess I should says something; don't really want to stay here for what could be quite a few hours and not say a word… then I'd just feel bad.

"Um…" Was all I could manage until he spoke up over me.

"Want something to drink?" He said harshly. I felt myself bristle and just mumbled:

"Urm… no. No, thanks." He just grunted and I couldn't help but look up. Thankfully he was looking the other way. Damn, he was just sat there like he wasn't even bothered. He looked so… so… cool. His arms were perched up along the top of the sofa and his legs were crossed over. While I was sat here, curled up and bent over.

"Um…" I tried again, as I sat up. All I could so was groan after that as my stomach blistered in agony. I keeled over again and he looked at me.

"You okay?" He asked, not a hint of concern in his tone, but it was kind of nice to have him actually asking if I was okay.

"Hm… yea." I eventually spluttered. The pain eased out once relaxed again and I just sat there again. Damn this was annoying. I wish I'd never left my house now.

I screamed as I peered up and suddenly he was in front of me. None the less I was shocked. It didn't make it any less scary when his hand lifted my shirt. My eyes widened as his fingertips brushed my skin. They were so cold.

"Huh! W-what are you doing?" I struggled to speak as my face grew hot and my nerves were wrecked. His fingers pressed against my bruised stomach and ran down it gently. It hurt, causing me to close my eyes and hold back a groan. I barely noticed when his body moved away from mine and he was gone from the room again by the time I opened my eyes. He came back in with what was probably a first aid box and pulled out a roll of bandages.

"Hold still." He instructed as he knelt down in front of me and lifted my shirt again. I just sat and blinked as he gently wrapped the bandage around my wound. It felt a little tight though, and I couldn't breathe properly.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" I slowly shook my head; I felt slightly dazed. "Good. Now why don't you run along home?" He said as he stood. And then I snapped.

"W-what?" I yelled up at him. "It's still dark outside!"

"So." He stared down at me with his cruel gaze again. "I'm sure you learnt your lesson last time, so if you're smart you'll avoid people who are clearly stronger than you are." I grit my teeth and got to my feet.

"Hey! They attacked me. It's not like I would be stupid enough to actually walk up to someone at night."

"Well maybe if you hadn't been stalking me then they wouldn't have found you." I felt my cheeks blush.

"I- I was not stalking you… I was following you so I could…" Why did I follow him? I had said to myself at the time that I wouldn't do anything once I caught him. Why didn't I just turn around and go home?

"So you could get me back for saying what I said to you? Yea, like a pipsqueak like you would do anything to me. You couldn't even handle a few idiots with sticks. I doubt you could even take on a squirrel." He smirked cruelly. "Now like I said: why not run off home and cry to mommy?" I clenched my fists and as you could probably guess, went to punch him. It didn't exactly help that he was about a foot taller than me, but he stopped me. My fist was held in his hand and he squeezed it painfully. I couldn't help but gasp out.

"I wouldn't bother kid. You'll just come out of it more damaged than you already are." I raised my other fist and again it was easily caught in his other hand. "Stubborn aren't you?"

"Shut the fuck up!" I yelled at him. This guy was pissing me off, thinking he was so high and mighty just because he saved me and lived in some fancy-pants apartment. "I don't need some git like you telling me about myself when he doesn't know shit about me!" I went to kick him in the shin, how unfortunate for me that he'd seen it coming. He swung his leg out of the way and pulled it around mine, causing me to fall back into the sofa, with him landing on top of me.

"You're annoying. You know that?" He said harshly. He looked different as his brown hair fell around his face: even if it was short. "Thinking you can stand up to me like some idiot. You've got some nerve punk."

Punk? That sounded kind of lame. "Get the hell off me you pervert!" I screamed up at him, squirming about with no prevail.

"A pervert am I? Is that your opinion… or is that what you wish?" My eyes widened. Was this guy crazy or something? "Heh. Well your face says it all."

What?! I hadn't realised earlier, but my face was burning up. I could feel his fingers against my skin, and his leg, now positioned between mine. I gulped and stared up at him, not sure what I was feeling, why I felt such a feeling.

I felt my mind going fuzzy as his head moved closer. This had to be a dream, this didn't happen in real life… well, at least not to me. I jumped when I felt his lips touch mine.

My world froze. Everything slowed down and my mind was racing. One of his hands moved from mine and held my neck. I felt his tongue move into my mouth (it was something I'd never experienced before) and it was hot on my own tongue. I shyly kissed back and felt my eyes closing. I didn't want it, but I felt disappointed when his mouth pulled away and attached itself to my neck; but that in it's own way, felt nice. I couldn't suppress the whimper that came from my throat as I felt his tongue run up my neck. It left a cool trail of what was obviously saliva, which caused a slight shiver to run down my spine. It was so confusing, all these feelings inside me that I'd never felt before (I'd even forgotten how much of a bastard he was).

It was then I felt that horrid feeling in my stomach and my throat prepared itself for something to go through, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't going through the right way.

"Humph." Was the only sound I could make before I had to pull myself to the side. I basically threw up onto this guys polished floor, which I'm willing to bet my soul on, was very expensive. I gasped for breath as I watched the last remains of vomit drop from my mouth and onto the puddle on the floor. My hair had got in the way and was partially coated in the crap.

Oh, shit! I thought as I the guy on top of me staring. I just stayed where I was, shaking mostly from the shock to my system and partly because of fear. "I… I'm sorry." My voice shook as I mumbled. I swallowed hard and began to push my self back up. As my head rose I felt cold fingertips pulling the hair away from my face. He peered down at me and his face was still expressionless. My eyes stung with tears now and I felt weak all over. He just sighed (in what sounded like an aggravated way) and got up from the sofa.

"Go clean yourself up." He said coldly. All I could do was look at him as the tears fell from my eyes. I didn't want to cry, but the throwing up had kind of screwed my head up. "Well?" He shot at me. With that I scrambled to my feet and walked as best as I could to find the bathroom. He didn't even bother to tell me.

After washing my face with cold water about 50 times, I lent against the sink and stared into the mirror. I stared at myself with a sigh. What was I doing? I had only gone for a walk in an attempt to cure my boredom.

"Well I guess I got my wish." I said bitterly with a chuckle. I caught the eyes of my reflection. They looked different. For months now I had looked at them and just seen a dead face with nothing to hope for. Now there was something different… a sparkle? That's stupid. I thought bitterly, turning away from the mirror. Why am I here? I should have just left like he told me to and gone home. I should have… I wish I had… but then what was this feeling? This guy. No, this jerk had 'saved' me and now I was at his apartment and we just… My fingers darted to my lips and then my neck. And then it struck me:

I didn't even know his name…

I stepped out nervously into the hallway and peered through to the living room. I could see him knelt on the floor. Even more nervously, I walked forwards and peered through the doorway.

"I- I'm sorry." I said quietly. He peered up through the corner of his eye and look away again. "I… I should probably go." I said and began to turn away.

"Don't be an idiot." He said. My head snapped back to look at him again. "If you're ill then you shouldn't be wondering the streets at night."

And that's worse than being injured?

"You can stay here till the morning. Then I'll take you home." I blinked and stood there awkwardly. I actually felt better but I didn't want to tell him that. I lowered my head so my bangs covered my face and couldn't help but smile a little.

"Thank you…" I said silently. My head then shot up as I just had to ask him. "Urm… I was wondering. W-what… what's your na-"

"Kaiba." He interrupted. "Seto Kaiba." He still didn't look at me.

"I'm Ryou." I said, still silently. "Uh, Ryou Bakura." I blurted suddenly, realising I should probably tell him my last name too.

"Like I care." He scolded. I felt my chest sting a little at that. At that I just wanted to leave and cry. God knows why I was getting so emotional now. Normally I would just come up with something to shoot back, but I had nothing to say.

Once he'd done cleaning the mess and scolding me some more with words and his eyes, I was sat on the sofa as he threw a blanket and pillow at me.

"Sleep there. I'll take you home in a few hours once the sun's up." He said coldly without even looking at me before he walked off to his room.

"Uh, t-thank you…" I called after him, but he probably didn't hear as the door slammed at "th." I sighed heavily and bowed my head. I really was tired. I hadn't slept for a couple of days now but at home I could handle it. I'd had too much stress today and it wore me out. I fell back onto the sofa and pulled the pillow under my head. I was a bit warm dressed like this so no need for the blanket. Once I thought about it, I did feel warm… really warm. I put my palm onto my forehead and behind, a fever appeared. I sighed and closed my eyes. It was way too warm. I lazily worked my way out of my jeans and kicked them to the floor. That felt a bit better.

I found it impossible to open my eyes again, and I soon drifted off to sleep.

I was sat in the car by the time I was fully awake. God this guy couldn't wait to get rid of me. I wonder what crawled up his ass and died. I wasn't in the best of moods either. I'd woken up with morning with the blanket completely covering me (god knows how that happened) and my jeans were still damp. Not to mention the number of angry messages left on my mobile. I'd turned it off because I knew it would be ringing every 5 seconds and my parents wouldn't buy the "staying at a friend's" thing. I stared out the side window blankly and could see Kaiba's reflection.

Kaiba… Seto Kaiba… it was strange what that name did to me. It sounded cold, just like him. Yet the sound of it wanted to play over and over again in my mind. Kaiba…

We didn't talk the whole car trip. It wasn't long until we reached my street and I told him to drop me off at the end, my house was a few yards down. He didn't say goodbye or see you or anything when he left me on the side of the street. I still couldn't stand up straight from my stomach injuries. Damn that guy.

I sighed and stumbled to my house. He said he'd take me home, like he meant he'd take me there and walk me to the door and make sure I was safe and that I didn't get ill again. Like he'd explain to my parents that it was his fault and that he insisted I stay at his. But no, he wasn't like that. I didn't get it though. If he treated me like such crap, then why couldn't I stop thinking about him?

When I finally arrived at my front door, it burst open before I could put my key in.

"Ryou!" My mother yelled and dragged me inside. Obviously, she didn't want the neighbours to hear her shouting at her only, failure of a son. "Where the hell were you last night, huh? I was worried sick and don't think that just because you left college that you can go out every night until you feel like it! You still live in this house and therefore you come back when me and your father say so. Are you even listening to me? We thought you might have been kidnapped, mugged or even killed! Ryou, do you understand what you are doing to this family? God I can't believe it…" She went on and on and all I could do was stare blankly at the ground. My mind was full already, I couldn't think about anything else. Once my mum had shut up I went to my room. Damn I need to get a place of my own. Maybe a night small apartment in the city… maybe near Kaiba's place. Maybe in Kaiba's place…

I shook my head and collapsed on my bed.

"No." I mumbled into the sheets. "He wouldn't take me."

A/N: well as this fic probably shows, I'm kind of angsty at the moment. I just felt like writing a fic in the way that I think. The whole negativity towards chavs and a general hating of most people is genuinely how I think. No offence to anyone, I'm happy with anyone who reads and likes yugioh based fan fics so sorry if you are considered a chav or anything. There will be other parts at some point or other. Keep and eye out.