"Bakura?" I call out to an empty room, slipping off my shoes at the front door, and setting my book bag down on the couch. I gaze around the empty living room for a few moments with tired, sleepless eyes.
It is not just an empty room, void of all physical being; it is also void of all soul, and I can feel it within me. I can feel the emptiness slither up my spine, wrap around my neck, and weigh my heart down like an anchor.
My lungs emit a deep breath that passes through my lips as a sigh. Leaving my book bag full of homework and studying material in the living room, I force my body across the room and up the stairs to my room.
"Bakura," I once again call out to an empty room, lightly touching the Ring around my neck. This time, though, it is not really a question of existence, and merely a lingering instinct. I shed my school uniform in trade for something more comfortable and collapse on top of my bed.
Hanging in my open closet is that flowing black coat that Bakura wore a lot, and made me wear when he took control of my body. My eyes don't want to look at it, but cannot look away. I see him, I swear I do. I see him dueling an unfortunate soul, turning his back to me after he had made me cry. I see the darkness of the cape-like coat as I clutch his leg to my body, crying my heart out to him.
I do not cry now; my eyes shed no tears. I want to cry, and my body quivers in anticipation of the coming waterworks, but they never arrive.
My fingers tightly grasp the golden Millennium Ring, but soften to a gentle clasp. I press my lips to it, and inhale its ancient scent; the scent that I had always adhered to my darkness.
I still do not cry as I lovingly hold the Ring to my chest and fall asleep.
A crash of thunder makes the house quake, and my body jolts up, full of fear. There are two shining gleams in my closet and I squint in the darkness to make them out. Another blast of thunder lights up the room briefly, and I see Bakura in my closet. He is standing proudly, with his hands on his hips, and his coattails beaming around his legs like clouds. At that very moment, I know that this is a dream, but I don't care.
At first, I try to get my ears to focus on the panging of the heavy rain on the windows, while my throat and chest throb because of my heart's intense beating. I can't think, I can't breathe, but when light enters the room again for only a moment, I leap. I trip over my nightstand, I skin my knee on the rough carpet, and I fall at his feet.
"Ba…kura?" I pleadingly drawl. I can smell the dirt on his shoes, and the ancient pain that always tends to hover over him. A few tears finally escape my eyes, but I'm not crying yet.
I hear a sigh, and he leans down to pet my hair softly, then puts his arms on my back to pull me into his lap.
"Bakura, you bloody wanker," I sob into his chest, wrapping my arms around his chest, and rubbing my nose into his shirt. I open my mouth, as if I think that my vocal cords can actually form words at the moment, and the only sounds that escape me are muffled sobs and whimpers.
His body is so strong and firm against mine, and it seems to loom so tall over my vulnerable form.
"Where were you?" I ask, trembling in his arms once I've controlled my loathsome sobbing. "Where did you go? Why did you leave me?"
His only response is to run one hand through my hair, and I utterly accept it, deeply inhaling his melancholic scent. I snuggle deeper into his embrace and close my eyes, already dreaming of him in a dream.
When I wake up, I'm still in my closet, but, instead of holding Bakura to me, I'm clutching at his forlorn jacket. I rub my forehead; I seem to have a headache, as it seems that not even a large, abandoned coat could have protected my head from the hard wood flooring.
Well, no, I think to myself. 'Kura was here. He probably just left in the night. You know, things to do, people to banish to the Shadow Realm…
I decide to stop thinking before I end up hurting myself. Besides, Bakura will be mad if I don't accomplish my morning chores…
Before I received the Millennium Ring, I would always start my day with a freshly brewed cup of green tea. After one mere taste, my darkness demanded that his mornings be rid of the "horrid" stuff, and replaced with something that had more "bite." I remember frantically searching the cupboards and refrigerator for something to give him to drink, and the only thing I could find was coffee. I had never been one to partake with coffee-drinking, so the habit was difficult to begin, but I eventually became a coffee professional to my darkness' taste buds.
A smile creeps its way onto my face at the memories, but I gently smack my cheek to pull myself out of my reverie.
"Coffee," I say to seemingly no one. "Bakura needs his coffee, or else he'll be really angry. Nobody wants to make their darkness angry!"
My fingers clutch the coat on the floor harshly, and bring it into the air, admiring the way gravity assists its mid-air swoop. I twirl down the stairway, and dance my way across the kitchen linoleum. After I drape the overflowing darkness around a chair, I begin to brew a pot of coffee. I remember to add seven tablespoons of coffee grounds, because, after all, Bakura enjoys his coffee strong.
I place a mug of coffee in front of Bakura's coat and grab my own cup, taking a seat across from my other.
"How has life been treating you?" I ask. I close my eyes. I'm suddenly feeling so tired, and I can feel my whole body wanting to shut down. "Enjoying the coffee? I know exactly how you like it, you know. It's been so long…"
I know that my consciousness is ending. Before it does, I stand up and stumble over towards Bakura's chair, and sit down. I bring my knees up to my chest, and wrap the arms of the coat around me.
"You're always near me when things get ugly, you know," I lie, taking a deep breath. "Well, no, that's not true at all, but it used to be, you know? You were always there, no matter what I did, no matter where I went, no matter what happened. Like a parasite. You were such a parasite…" I grin, despite the deep aching in my chest.
I whimper. "Bakura, I…" I stop. Something tells me that he knows, somehow. I am the light to his darkness, after all. When he's gone, I can't breathe, but I guess that's just the issue of oxygen. He'll be back soon, though, so then I won't have to hurt anymore.
He'll be back soon, I tell myself. It hurts to think about, and my breath catches in my lungs yet again, but, somehow, the statement seems so tangible. If I can still feel him the way I do, that must mean that there's still a piece of him left, and if there's a piece of him left, he'll always have to return someday, even if he did abandon his light.
There will always be a piece of him left to come back to. After all, he left his heart with me when he went away.