Warnings- Suicide, swearing, character death
"You're drunk." The voice was cold and clipped, a hint of distaste making his lips curl as he spoke.
"What is your problem? I'm allowed to have a drink once in a while aren't I?"
"Your drink once in a while is two litres of vodka almost every day."
"And? I can do what I want you know, you're not my fucking mother."
"Thank Ra for that."
A hand slammed around his neck before he could react, pushing him against a wall so hard he saw stars as his head contacted with the rough bricks.
"What did you just say?" The voice was a low growl, dangerous and angry.
"I said I'm glad I'm not your mother." The other growled again, twisting strong hands around his neck tighter, smirking nastily as he struggled for breath. "She'd be ashamed of you. Her only son, the only living member of the village."
The hand somehow increased it's grip and the boy gasped for air, clawing at the fingers with his nails pathetically, somehow still managing to gasp out words, voice raspy with lack of oxygen.
"A criminal who hits his boyfriend when he gets drunk."
The crimson eyes of the strangler widened in realisation and he released his hold on the tanned neck, whose owner fell to the floor heavily, gasping in air loudly. When he finally recovered he looked back up wheezing in air through a pained throat, no doubt crushed by the large hands of the paler man.
"She left me." The man's hands were shaking as he tried to light a cigarette, eventually managing and taking a long drag, coughing as the acrid smoke hit his already damaged smokers lungs. "And you will eventually."
The tanned boy stopped gently massaging his neck to look at his taller counterpart, eyes creased in sympathy and sudden understanding. "Why would I leave?"
The boy took another drag of the cigarette and shot the blonde, now pulling himself into a sitting position against the wall, a condescending look. "Because I get drunk and hit you."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh." The white-haired boy cleared his throat with a disgusting noise and spat onto the ground, ignoring the tanned boy's queasy expression.
"I still love you."
This heartfelt sentiment was met by a disbelieving snort and an eye roll. "Do you even know how fucking cliché you sound? You don't love me."
The blonde boy glared, dragging himself upright and trying to ignore the pounding in his head, stalking to the white-haired boy angrily. "If I say I love you, I do. Don't you dare try to tell me how I feel."
"You don't know how you feel. How can you love me? How?"
"Why is it such an alien concept to you that someone might care about you? Why must you always try to push people away? I love you, Bakura. You might be a drunken, lazy ass who makes his money pickpocketing or drug dealing, but I fucking love you."
"No you don't." The voice raised to an indignant shout.
"Do you want me to leave? Is that it? Are you sick of me?"
Lavender eyes met crimson defiantly, needing answers but praying the pale boy wouldn't send him away. Crimson eyes flitted away to stare at the tip of his cigarette, not seeing the tears growing in the lavender orbs of the tanned boy before him.
"Fine. I understand. I'll go." The boy's voice cracked as he spoke, angrily blinking back tears. He turned his back and began to walk away, trying to hold his head high, telling himself it was for the best. He didn't love him back, he probably never had, he probably couldn't love.
But despite what he told himself, it didn't stop the tears from coursing down his cheeks and dampening his purple top. It didn't stop the pain that tore through his chest as every step passed without his name being called in that familiar voice. It didn't stop the unbearable fear of what would happen now, of what he would do alone, of where he would live, of how he would live.
And when he slumped against a wall two blocks away, sobbing into his arms, and a familiar pale arm didn't snake around his shoulders, rough lips didn't press a kiss to his hair, he didn't think he could stand it any more.
Two blocks away, the pale man finished his cigarette, flicking the butt onto the rough ground where the sparks were whipped away by the wind. The unlit alley masked the tears that trickled down his cheeks as he stared at the ground before him unseeingly.
"I told you you'd leave." He managed to say, voice a whisper that went unheard by anyone but himself. "Everybody does."
Faces flicked through his mind, His Yadonushi, now with Mariku, his parents, murdered. He had never been one for friends. Not before Marik. He had never been one for relationships either, preferring to go out and fuck any girl who'd have him.
But now he'd driven away the one person who actually made him happy, who made him feel complete.
As his hand snaked into his coat, slender fingers grasping the ornate handle and holding it in place, he heard the bronzed boy's voice tell him he loved him one last time.
"I love you too. Marik."
He took a deep breath, fingers shaking. "I'm sorry."
The girl screamed when she found him, hand still clasped around the dagger that had taken his life. Blood splashed up the newly plastered wall and running down his neck, staining the tips of his white hair pink.
This took me like half an hour to write so it's probably terrible and this started out as me wanting to write a lemon and somehow spiralled into this...?
It also ends really abruptly idk I just had random angsty feels alright?