Look! An Xmas fic! Poste on time, too Hehehe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

It was freezing.

Ryou's breath clouded in a mist as he exhaled, his chapped lips quivering as he shivered. The cold atmosphere chilled Ryou to the bone, and the occasional gust of freezing wind only heightened the sensation of being drowned in ice. His fingers moved slowly across the fret board, his right thumb strumming the strings carefully. He couldn't afford to break a string then. He'd only made ten dollars today, meaning he couldn't sleep in a hotel tonight. Breaking a string meant Ryou couldn't eat.

He'd gone without food for two days already.

At least he had some shelter from the thickening snow. An overhang of the building prevented the ice crystals sprinkling onto his coat. Ryou continued to gently strum his guitar, sitting cross-legged on the ground. The guitar case was open at his feet which was dotted with coins and a couple of notes. Countless people rushed past the freezing teenager, their arms weighed down with countless bags containing last-minute Christmas gifts.

It was December the twenty-fourth.

Ryou closed his mocha eyes, his teeth chattering. I can't keep this is up for much longer. I should head off to the subway tunnel before it gets too crowded… Tears pushed at the corners of his eyes, but the teenager blinked them away. He wasn't going to feet sorry for himself. Self-pity got him nowhere. There was a lump in his throat, and he swallowed it back closing his eyes. He used to sing to the guitar, but ever since his accident…

Ryou sneezed.

Two days ago, he'd gotten a nasty tickle in the back of his throat, which had now progressed into a full blown cold. Ryou suppressed a sneeze, wrinkling his nose. Oh God... This isn't good. He let out a long sigh, and stopped playing the battered, guitar, resting it on his crossed knees.

He didn't notice the tall white-haired figure watching him from across the street.

Ryou leaned forward, and scooped up the handful of money in the bottom of his guitar case. The coins were cold in his hands, and he winced, but Ryou counted up the money with his eyes, and sighed. Eleven fifty. At least I can buy some hot food with it. The teenager hid the money in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, before replacing the battered guitar inside its case. Ryou rubbed his exposed hands together, his teeth chattering further. He sat in the overhang for a moment, crouched on the frozen concrete, staring at the ground, before he grabbed his tattered satchel, which contained his only possessions, and placed it over his left shoulder. Ryou seized the guitar case, his free hand rubbing at his forehead, which was flushed, and sweating. His head felt as though it were stuffed with cotton. Oh… This feels terrible…

The white-haired man across the road looked up from his newspaper, and smiled, before standing up.

Ryou was jostled the moment he stepped into the heavy flow of human traffic. The whitenette winced, stumbling slightly. The flow of rushed, hurried people, eager to get out of the snow and into their safe, warm houses, was too much for Ryou. As soon as he could, the boy fled to the safe haven of a bench, between the sidewalk and the road. He placed the guitar on the concrete beside him, and curled into a ball. Oh, his head hurt… Everywhere ached, and his limbs felt as though they were made of straw. Ryou rested his head on his knees, his coat slowly gathering more and more snow. He felt so sleepy…

"Hey." Ryou froze in his curled position, every muscle in his body going rigid. Who is that… "Kid! You still alive?" Eventually, Ryou dared to lift his head from the safe cradle of his knees. He stared down at a pair of shoes, worn black leather boots, and swallowed. Slowly, his chocolate coloured eyes traveled up a pair of black jeans, half-hidden by an open charcoal trench coat. Ryou gulped, staring at the fraying black sweater under the coat, which was sprinkled in tiny flakes of snow. Ryou's eyes widened when he stared at the man full in the face.

Ryou opened his mouth to say something, but then closed his again, his teeth chattering. His thin, worn coat did almost nothing to keep his almost skeletal frame warm, and he couldn't stop shaking. The man smiled softly, and leaned in to stare into Ryou's eyes. The teenager blinked, and then looked down, his breath fogging in front of him as he shivered. The man sighed, before crouching slightly on his knees. Ryou sniffed, and rubbed at his blocked nose, before lifting his head slightly. He started when he saw the man crouched in front of him.

"You're freezing." He remarked, biting on his lower lip. "And you're sick." Ryou only swallowed, wincing at the movement. He closed his eyes, turning his head away. People always made him uncomfortable, and this scruffy stranger with hair so like his was no different. "Hey, what's wrong?" Ryou parted his lips, raising his eyes to look at this man, but didn't know what to say. Everything's wrong... This place is wrong, my life is wrong, I'm wrong… "Come on, kid. I don't bite." Ryou licked his lip, keeping his eyes firmly downcast. "Here." The man reached into his pocket. Ryou blinked, and raised his eyes once more to look at the strange white-haired man.

Twenty dollars was held between his finger and thumb! Ryou's mouth fell open, and his eyes lit up. The man chuckled under his breath, and smiled despite himself. Ryou extended a slim, pale hand, and reached for the note. Before he could grab the twenty dollar bill, the man jerked his hand, raising an eyebrow.

"Now, now." He teased. "You have to earn it. Do you think I give out twenty bucks every day?" Ryou visibly deflated, lowering his eyes. "You have to earn it." Ryou blinked, and reached down for his guitar. "Hey. I didn't say you could play your guitar."

Oh no. Ryou froze, and started to scoot sideways on the bench, away from the man. No! I don't do that! I don't sleep with people for money. I-I'll never do that… He sighed, and shook his head, chuckling softly.

"No, no. Not like that, silly. I wouldn't sleep with you for money." The man smiled, shaking his head. "I just want…" He leaned in closer to Ryou, so their noses almost touched. Ryou blinked, but it turned into a soundless yelp as the man kissed him. Ryou was immobile for a long moment, frozen as the man continued to kiss him, his lips oddly soothing and massaging. He had never been kissed before, and this seemed so… different. It was nice… Gently, Ryou's eyes fluttered shut, and he relaxed, allowing himself to enjoy the kiss. The man smiled, and opened his mouth, softly running his tongue along Ryou's lower lip. By this stage, Ryou was really getting into the kiss, so he followed suit, parting his own lips, and allowing the man to deepen the kiss dramatically. Ryou's hands loosely grasped his forearms, and then slowly slid along the material as the man tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss even further. He disentangled his arms from Ryou's grasp for a moment, and grabbed his hands, their fingers entwining. Ryou, who was starting to feel faint from the lack of oxygen, started to pull away.

Both were breathing deeply as they broke apart, the man still holding Ryou's hands. Ryou bowed his head for a moment, flushing furiously. Did that man know he'd just taken Ryou's first kiss? He swallowed deeply, biting his lip. The man only smiled, and stood up. He released his hold on Ryou's hands, and turned to leave. Ryou was still in a state of semi-shock as he opened his palm, looking at the twenty dollar bill tucked in folds of soft skin. His eyes darted up to the man, who was leaving, and his heart raced in panic.

"I'll see you around." He muttered, placing his hands in his pockets. "Best twenty bucks I've ever sent." If Ryou had a voice, he would scream out what he wanted to say. Instead, he hurriedly stood up, and as the man started to walk off, latched onto the sleeve of his jacket. "What-" He froze, and spun around, jumping slightly at the sight of the teenager who clung to him. "What?" He frowned. "I gave you your money, now get going. I've got to scrape together enough to pay my power bill now." Ryou frantically shook his head, chocolate eyes wide and imploring. "What the hell is it? Someone rip your throat out? Why don't you talk?" Ryou looked down for a moment, before releasing one of his hands from the man's jacket. He arched his neck slightly, and stroked his throat, emphasizing the long white scar that almost blended into his white skin. The man froze, and his mouth fell open. "Shit. Someone slit your throat?" Ryou nodded, tears glittering in his eyes. "Fuck… So? There's nothing I can do about it." He muttered. Ryou shook his head, and tightened his hold on the mans' jacket. He buried his nose into the black fabric, trembling. "What… What do you want, kid? I gave you the last of my money so you can eat, I've got nothing else to give."

Ryou felt like screaming. Oh, it was so frustrating! He shook his head, and continued to tug on the man's jacket, while he tried to think of a way to tell this man what he wanted to say, how he didn't want to leave, how Ryou wanted to go with him...

"You… Want my jacket?" He frowned. "No way, kid! It's freezing and I don't have one. I know you must be cold, but there's nothing I can do." Ryou silently groaned, and shook his head. He pointed clearly to Bakura, and then to himself. "You… Me… What is it kid? Don't you have a pen in that bag?" Ryou froze, and felt like smacking himself. Duh. Regretfully, the whitenette let go of the mans jacket, and started rifling through his satchel. He finally found an old biro and a dog eared notepad. Hurriedly, Ryou wrote down three words, the pad pressed against an upraised knee, before turning the pad up so the man could read it.

"Don't leave me." The man recited, furrowing his brow in confusion. "What… Oh." He sighed, starting at the desperate, hopeful look on the white-haired angel's face. "Kid… I would love to take you with me, but I can barely look after myself. I can't afford to feed another mouth…" Ryou visibly deflated, slumping his shoulders and bowing his head. Tears formed in his eyes, but he pushed them away, sniffing. Why did I think this person would be any different? The man sighed at the sight of the crestfallen boy, who looked close to tears. "Kid… You have to have family… Or friends… Or something…" Ryou shook his head, a curtain of white hair falling over his face. "No one?" Ryou shook his head again, sniffing. The man closed his eyes, and bit his lip. His conscience was really kicking in right then. You can't leave him here. Look at him. He's sick and freezing. He'd die out here if he was by himself. The man winced. It was a very real possibility, a poorly dressed, skeletal, sick teenager, cold and alone out in this freezing weather.

"Okay." He sighed, raising his eyes to the stormy skies. "You can come back with me." Ryou's head snapped up, and every trace of misery fled from his face. The notepad and pen clattered to the ground as he ran and flung his arms tightly around the man's waist. "Woah! Hey, hey… I didn't realize it was that big a deal…" Ryou nodded, relishing in the warmth of the male he held close to him. "Okay." The man sighed, before disentangling himself from Ryou. He picked up the notepad and pen, and handed them to Ryou, before picking up the battered guitar case, hefting it in his left hand.

"Come on then." He muttered, extending one arm. He expected the whitenette to take his hand, not press himself against him, one hand around the small of his back. The man blinked, and looked down at the teenager who dared to hold him close. He sighed, momentarily closing his eyes. Ryou buried his head in the mans' shoulder, suppressing a sneeze.

"Do you have a name?" The man asked, shifting the guitar case in his left hand. Ryou nodded, and dug through the satchel in his side. He extracted the worn notepad, and turned it over. 'Ryou' had been written in the back of the pad in dark blue writing. "Ryou, huh?" The whitenette nodded, rubbing at his red nose. The man felt his heartstrings twang in pity for the small teenager, and slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around Ryou's shoulders. "That's a nice name." Ryou smiled, staring at the snow-sprinkled ground as they started to walk. Ryou looked up at the man with those large brown eyes. He pointed to him, and tilted his head questioningly. "My name?" He nodded softly. "It's Bakura." Ryou smiled, and Bakura tightened his hold on the skinny teen.

"It's okay, Ryou. I'll look after you until you can get on your feet."

"Welcome to my humble abode." Bakura chuckled as he turned the key in the lock. The door was stuck, and he had to lean against the wooden paneling to open it. "It's not much," He sighed, holding the door open for Ryou as he entered the apartment. "But it's home."

Wow. Ryou's mouth dropped as he stared around the apartment, his eyes wide. True, it wasn't much, a one-room studio, with a kitchenette in a corner, a battered car table with two mismatching chairs in another, and a single black bucket seat in front of the TV, the leather torn and cracked. The floors were wooden, but a large, colourful rug hid most of the floor in the middle of the apartment, and the walls were brick.

"Okay." Bakura smiled softly as he set the guitar case down. "Let me give you the grand tour." He loosely wrapped an arm around Ryou's shoulders as they stood in the doorway. "This," He indicated to the corner closest to the door. "Is the kitchen," Ryou smiled. "This here," He turned Ryou to face the other side. "Is my dining room." Ryou nodded, unsure if Bakura was being sarcastic or serious. "Over here is one of two rather magnificent features," He pointed to the large old fireplace, the marble mantelpiece littered with photographs. "It doesn't work." He explained to Ryou, who wore a puzzled expression. "They cut out the chimney years ago, and bunged a gas heater in it. It's still nice though." Ryou nodded. "It's an important feature of my living room." The whitenette eyed the old-fashioned TV and single chair. "And my bedroom." Bakura directed Ryou's gaze to the double bed in the corner, a battered beside table and a three-legged set of draws next to it, the fourth propped up by a wooden crate. "And the bathroom is in there." He grabbed Ryou's wrist and led him to a rather warped door. He turned the knob, and the door swung open, exposing the cramped, dark bathroom. "It's three-in-one. You can use the toilet, but your feet in the shower, and brush your teeth all at the same time." Ryou laughed silently. He burrowed in his satchel, withdrawing his pad and pen.

'I like it.' He wrote on the paper, holding it up to Bakura. 'Are you being serious or sarcastic?' The man sighed, and walked over to the edge of his bed. He let go of Ryou's hand, and sat down, clutching the duvet.

"What do you think?" He murmured, looking down at the stained floorboards. "It's a dump. The house is crap and the furniture is worse." Ryou sighed, and sat down beside him, writing on the pad again.

'It's really nice.' He wrote, his words neat and narrow, trying to save as much paper as he could. 'I really really like it. It's so cosy.' Bakura sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"You're homeless." Bakura moaned, running a hand through his wild locks. "A cardboard box would look good to you." Ryou looked down, hurt. "Sorry." He apologized. "I shouldn't have said that…"

'It's okay.' Ryou tried to write as fast as he could. 'I'm just so happy you're letting me stay. I don't think I could face Christmas alone.' Bakura sighed, and snaked a hand around Ryou's shoulders.

"It's okay." He murmured softly. "My conscience wouldn't let me leave you in the snow like that." Bakura gently started to lower his hand, his fingertips stroking Ryou's back. The teenager sighed, and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. "You hungry?" He looked down at the exhausted Ryou, who nodded weakly. "When was the last time you ate?" Ryou's fingers shook as he scrawled on the page.

'Um, two days, I think.' His eyes half-closed. 'I'm really tired…' Bakura's mouth fell open, and his insides burned with pity for the teenager pressed against him. He started to rub small circles in Ryou's lower back, biting his lip.

"Tell you what." Bakura muttered. "I'm going to cook something up for you, while you have a nice hot shower." His nose wrinkled slightly. Despite Ryou's best efforts, he wasn't exactly clean or sweet-smelling. "And then you can stuff your face, and have a nice long sleep. Does that sound okay?" Bakura asked softly, his lips in Ryou's dirty hair.

'Sounds like heaven.' Ryou wrote, half-asleep on Bakura's shoulder. The man smiled, and stood up. Ryou set the pad down on the bed, and was pulled into a standing position. He leaned against Bakura for a sec, sniffing. The man sighed, leading Ryyou into the bathroom.

"The bathrobe's handing on the door," He explained, starting the shower. "Just bung that on once you get out, and I'll sort out some pajamas." Ryou nodded, and Bakura sighed once he closed the door, leaning against it. "How the hell did this happen?" He muttered to himself, closing his eyes. "How am I going to feed him?" He had enough food to last until January, but beyond then, Bakura had no idea what he was going to do. "I suppose I could pick up some extra shifts… But I'm already working long hours…" Bakura sighed, walking across the room, and to the kitchenette. "Depends on how long the kids' staying." He sighed to himself, opening the pantry. Tins of food and colourful packets looked back at him (He had won the yearly Christmas food hamper at his work). "I'm not letting him leave if he's got nowhere to go." Bakura turned around, looking at the closed door. "I'll make it work out." He sighed, extracting a packet of pasta. Bakura had started talking to himself a long time ago, when the absolute silence of the apartment constantly bugged him. With a long sigh, the man turned on the oven, and started rootling around for pots and pans.

Ryou was still as he let the flow of hot water pour down his skin. He was to embarrassed to look at the liquid as it gurgled down the drain, tinted a dark grey from his dirt and grime. The teenager chose instead to stare at the pale, slightly pink skin, fresh and clean. He felt as though he had washed away the pain and the heartbreak of living on the streets. This was all new. It was going to be all better. This Christmas was going to be great, simple because he wasn't going to be alone. He didn't expect that it was going to be presents and decorations and food, like in the movies -Reality was a much harsher story- But he wasn't going to be alone anymore. And that was all that mattered.

There was a wide grin on the teenager's face as he stepped out of the shower. He dried himself with the threadbare towel before donning the dressing gown and tentatively opening the door.

"Hey." Bakura smiled softly, setting the pasta down on the rickety card table. "I was wondering where you got to." Ryou grinned, before sitting down at the table, his chocolate eyes wide at the plate of food in front of him. His fork trembled as he scooped up the first amount of food, and Bakura sank into his chair as he watched Ryou pack food into his mouth as fast as he could. The man's mouth fell open as Ryou wolfed down the meal, and he swallowed deeply. He wasn't kidding when he said he hadn't eaten in days... Bakura stared at the teenager, marveling at how clean he looked. His skin was the colour of ivory under that layer of dirt and soot, and his hair, a damp tangle trailing haphazardly around his shoulders, and down his back, was positively shining.

"Oh!" Bakura stood up, his crimson eyes wide. "Ryou, I never showed you…" Ryou paused in his gorging, and looked up at the man. "My second magnificent feature…" Bakura's worn leather boots clunked over the old boards as he headed towards the thick navy curtains at the end. "It's the whole reason why I got this place." Bakura explained as he started to pull at an old tassel. Ryou shoveled another forkful of food in his mouth, staring at Bakura as he parted the curtains.

Oh wow. Ryou breathed, the fork clattering to the table. That's amazing! It was a large window, taking up almost a whole wall of the small apartment. Bakura lived on the twelfth floor, and the city was built on a gentle slope. Ryou stood up, and walked over to the large window. The city was bathed in twilight, and the amber and light yellow glittered like gems in the dusky sky.

"You like it?" Bakura smiled, looking down at the city, slowly sinking into darkness. Ryou pressed a palm against the cold glass, watching the pane fog around his hand. He nodded, smiling widely. Secretly, Ryou thought he'd never seen something so amazing in his life. "Ryou…" Bakura looked away from the scenery to stare at Ryou, dressed in the bathrobe. "Have you ever left this city?" The teenager blinked, and finally tore his eyes away from the beautiful lights of the city. Ryou turned to face Bakura, staring down and fingering the sleeves of the bathrobe, which was too large for him. He slowly shook his head, chewing on his lip. Bakura opened his mouth to say something, and froze. His eyes lingered on base of Ryou's throat, particularly his collarbone. It's not natural for it to stick out like that… Bakura gulped, feeling sick when he realized that in the 'v' of Ryou's chest, exposed by the bathrobe, wasn't the muscles of his chest, like they were supposed to be, but skin and bone. Literally. Ryou closed his eyes as Bakura gently reached out and stroked the skin. The man felt like shuddering as he stroked the ridges of Ryou's ribs, and the teenager gasped, and turned away, pulling up the robe to cover as much skin as he could.

"Ryou." Bakura muttered softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. The whitenette sniffed, rubbing at his rubbing nose. "Ryou, I'm sorry." He murmured. "But… It can't be like that all over Ryou… You have to have some meat on your bones somewhere…" Ryou silently stepped away from the male, fiddling with the cord on the dressing gown. "Christ, it's like a you're a bloody… Ano…Rex…Ic.." Bakura froze as Ryou slid the towelette dressing gown down too-thin shoulders. Ryou stood, his head slightly bowed, and the gown around his hips. A hand flew to Bakura's mouth as he stared at Ryou's back. It really looked like skin stretched over a skeleton. He could easily count every rib as it protruded from Ryou's back, and his spine stuck out like the edge of a knife.

"I'm sorry." He muttered, stricken. Ryou continued to stare at the floor, tears threatening to slide down his cheeks. Bakura loosely grasped one shoulder, before trailing his hand down silky skin, smooth but for the protruding angles of his bones. "Turn around." Bakura asked, reluctantly sliding his hand from Ryou's skin. The teenager paused for a very long moment, but eventually, he turned around, making sure that the robe was still at least around his wait. Bakura's breath caught in his throat as he stared at a fresh set of those ribs, giving way to a concave stomach. "Why can't you eat, Ryou?" Bakura asked softly, taking a step over to him and cupping a smooth, rounded jawbone. Ryou looked down, and sniffed. "Can't you afford it or something?" He nodded weakly, and couldn't stop the tears as they dripped from his eyes. Bakura sighed, wrapping his arms around Ryou in a soft embrace.

"Hey…" Bakura sighed, gently rocking the boy as he cried, inwardly shuddering as his hands came into contact with those exposed bones. "It's okay, Ryou. I'm going to feed you lots and lots, and you're going to put on so much weight…" Bakura poked Ryou's side. "You're going to get really really fat, I promise." Ryou sniffed, and lifted his head. He stared up into Bakura's crimson eyes, his chin trembling. "Okay?" Ryou nodded weakly, before flinging his head in Bakura's neck. The man sighed as he listened to Ryou cry, his odd, silent gasps of air and sobs. "You can stay here for as long as have to. No one should be alone on Christmas…." Ryou sniffed, shivering in the cold air.

"Come on, Ryou. Let's get you into bed."

Bakura sighed, rolling over onto his side. It was very late, but the white-haired man couldn't sleep. His crimson eyes drifted from the window, down to Ryou. The teenager slept on the side of the bed next to the large window, and had fallen asleep watching the city below him. Bakura smiled, very faintly, as he brushed a lock of hair out of Ryou's eyes. He looked like an angel tucked under the sheets. An angel in a worn, baggy Metallica shirt. Gently, Bakura held Ryou close to him, resting his head on the pillow beside Ryou. His nose was full of soft, silky hair, and, although the covers on the bed were worn and thin, he was warm. Especially where he was pressed against Ryou.

This was screwed up. Bakura was the first to admit it. How can someone as beautiful and innocent as Ryou be on the streets? Sure, not being able to talk closed a lot of doors to employment, but there must have been something he could do…

But there were a lot of people on the streets. Bakura was the first to admit that. Sure, he'd only been homeless for a month, but he was amazed at how horrible that short month was. And also how many people lived on the streets. Something has to be done about it. What kind of government lets this happen? It's not like most homeless people want to be homeless. They don't. Give them the chance to live in their own place, and they would jump.

Don't worry, Ryou. I know you only met me today, but I've been watching you for weeks. I saw you sit at the building for five freezing hours one day, and then give all of your money away to a kid and her baby. You're far too soft to live on the streets, and I promise, you're not going to. Tomorrow is going to be great. I don't have any presents to give, but I have lots and lots of food. I'm going to stuff you so you can't move. Malik and Marik are coming over, too. You'll like Malik, I know. I promise that you're going to have the best Christmas you've ever had.

Bakura leaned down, gently placing a quick peck on his lips.

I promise you, Ryou.

Awwh. Fluffy ending! Hehehe

EVERYONE HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! -glompsall-

R&R!