Ryou Bakura sits at his desk, chin resting on his hand, elbow resting on the table. The science teacher is giving a long lecture about covalent and ionic bonds. It bores Bakura to death. He mindlessly doodles on a blank piece of paper. He lets out a sigh, lowering his head ever so slightly, looking out of the corner of his eyes at the brunet in the seat next to him, one row over. He sighs. Seto Kaiba. He was the most attractive student in the school. And the richest. And the most unfriendly. Though that didn't stop Bakura from having a crush on him. He was completely infatuated with Kaiba, even though he was sure Kaiba didn't know of his presence, only one seat over. The dark haired CEO was typing away on his laptop, probably something to do with his company Kaiba Corp, and taking notes at the same time. Bakura watches the gentle strokes of Kaiba's long, artistic fingers as he produces the most beautiful hand writing the white haired boy had ever seen.
The bell rings, startling Bakura and tearing him from his thoughts, nearly causing him to fall out of his seat. He could hear several students behind him chuckle as they grab their textbooks and binders, racing one another out of the room. Kaiba was always the last to leave, so Bakura saved no time by slowly tucking his note-less sheet into his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. Bakura watches Kaiba shut his laptop and gather his things while he makes for the door, stopped a few feet short by a strong hand on his shoulder. He startles, quickly turning to look, relieved it's just the science teacher Mr. Kakuto.
"Is everything alright Ryou? Is something troubling you?" A look of concern crosses Mr. Kakuto's face. "Is everything ok at home…?"
Bakura isn't shocked by this question, nor taken aback. Most of his other teachers had asked the same question. Though he already had a pre-meditated response.
"Oh, no sir! Of course not! I'm just having a bit of trouble focusing… maybe I should see the doctor?"
Bakura pretends he didn't see the teachers eyes advert to his forearms quickly. He doesn't ask why Bakura isn't wearing his uniform blazer sleeves up to his elbows like the other boys in the school. Doesn't ask why he never laughs or smiles at the jokes thrown about the room at times.
"Well, ok," Mr. Kakuto starts as Bakura rushes for the door, "If you miss school just make sure you bring a note!" Bakura takes one last look behind him, but Kaiba is gone, having slipped out during their conversation. He frowns.
The hallways are filled with a large body of students rushing to the cafeteria in hopes of being the first in line. Bakura walks the opposite way, getting pushed aside by some of the other senior boys as per usual, and pushes open the metal double doors to the schools courtyard. There are several benches lining the brick walkways and large blossom tree's shedding their pink and white petals. Bakura turns and walks along the fence, marking the edge of the school property. A small stream cuts through the back of the soccer field and a tall willow tree providing a place of secret and solace stands by it. Bakura's secret place. The place he goes when he needs to be alone.
The place he goes to cut.
Bakura pulls the messenger bag over his shoulder and sits near the river in the shade provided by the tree. He unzips a secret compartment and pulls out a sharp, silver razorblade before sliding up the left sleeve of his uniform. The skin on his forearm is scabbed and scared from multiple other sessions. He finds a small patch of untouched skin just before his elbow and presses the blade against it, applying pressure and slowly dragging it horizontally.
"Ahh…" Bakura lets out a small gasp at the initial sting of pain. He presses his lips together as he watches small beads of blood form from the fresh wound before trickling down the length of his arm, wrapping themselves between his fingers. Bakura is always fascinated by it; how something so beautiful is the cause of so much pain.
But the cutting isn't his cause of pain, it's his release. He cuts open his flesh so that the pain in his heart and soul may leak out, and provide him with temporary relief.
Bakura lets out a sigh, resting his back against the tree and shutting his eyes. This is as close as he gets to being happy. Content.
The next day passes the same way, Bakura watching Kaiba through dreamy eyes during the two classes that they shared. Cutting at lunch. He would stay at school until roughly 5pm, reading or doodling in the library until it closed for the day. He dreaded to go home. A place out of public that the spirit of his millennium ring could torment him.
Bakura shuts the door to his apartment, startling as an older, darker version of himself glares back at him. He presses himself against the door.
"Oh, yami… you scared me…" He whispers, looking away.
"My apologies, little Ryou." He reaches out, stroking Bakura's cheek lightly. Bakura knows he's not really there, but somehow he can feel every touch. Watches as his Yami's expression go from collected to furious as he grabs Bakura's left wrist, yanking Bakura towards himself. Bakura lets out a yelp in both pain and surprise.
"Why must you insist on doing this to yourself, Bakura?" He hisses, pulling the sleeve of Bakura's school blazer up his arm so roughly some of the wounds reopen and begin to bleed.
"I-I'm sorry-"
"Are the things that I do for you simply not good enough? Do you believe I don't care for you?"
"No! I would never doubt your love for me!" A scared Bakura replies, bracing himself for a blow that does not come. There's silence for a few moments before his Yami pulls him into his arms. Bakura struggles for a moment, not sure if he really wants to embrace the spirit back or not. Decides against it, even if it would bring him a moment of false comfort.
"Good."
Bakura lets out a mental sigh of relief. That was a close one.
Mr. Kakuto drones on about chemistry, not a single word registering in Bakura's head. He absentmindedly rubs his bruised wrist before picking up his pen and scribbling the lyrics of a Damnation Angels song onto the paper.
Hope, hope can sometimes change your life, hope can set you free, hope can be a light in the dark. Dreams, dreams may sometimes be shattered, dreams might even fade away, but dreams can give you hope inside yourself.
Me, I gave up long ago. I lost my hope, I lost my dreams, I became someone else. You, you still remember me, but do you know and do you see what I really am?
As Bakura writes the last word, he turns his head and looks at Kaiba to find the brunet staring right back at him, cold blue eyes gazing into warm brown ones. Bakura instantly looks away, adverting his eyes back to the paper. Kaiba watches him, reading the words scribbled over his paper. Narrows his eyes. Wonders whats going on inside Bakura's head.