Ryou stares out of the museum window, the taste of coffee stale in his mouth. Over the skyscrapers on the other side of the road the sun is rising, and he wonders, vaguely, how long it has been since he last slept.
His fingers are stained with glue and paint and his head is eerily quiet, giving him a moment to think, to say goodbye – to his creation, to the world. In a sense, they are the same, he knows. Somewhere a long-dead heart is beating. He wonders if the spirit can feel it, like a phantom limb, somewhere in the back of his mind.
In some way, he knows, this is his masterpiece, the best he's ever built, and quietly he wonders if that's all there ever was to it, if every world he ever constructed had only been in preparation to this. He'd never believed in destiny until he met Yuugi; now it's glaringly obvious it exists – Yuugi clearly has a destiny, and therefore so does he.
It is oddly comforting, knowing that everything that happened had a reason, even if the reason is destruction. He's sure of it now, and the anger at the initial discovery has subsided. It's no use being angry at destiny.
The moment is over then.
Let's go home, the spirit says, only a voice in his head. We need to rest.
Ryou nods, silently, leaving the atrium and locking the museum door behind him.
They go home in silence. The sky is clear and the air is crisp, it's still so early that the world looks beautiful, like a painting. The spirit is happy, Ryou can feel it, such a strange and foreign sensation that it makes him sad, although if he's sad for the world or for the spirit, who's waited so long for this, he can't say.
They reach his apartment, quiet and empty as always. Ryou feels the sudden impulse to call up Yuugi, under the pretense of asking about homework or some such; to hear his voice one last time, to give them both one last moment of normalcy. Of course he doesn't, it's way to early and he's under no delusion that the spirit would let him.
Instead he gets ready for bed, drawing the blinds closed and lying down on the mattress, abandoning his body to sleep.
He opens the eyes to his soulroom, brighter than usual, almost glowing with the same intensity as the early morning outside. He doesn't know if it's a farewell gift or his own doing, now that everything is over.
The spirit is there and he's almost relieved, everything feels final and different and he had not known what to expect.
"You've done well," the spirit says, kissing his lips softly, and for once he can't sense any underlying malice, no conditions or expectations. He exhales, at once assured he did the right thing.
"And now?" he asks, leaning forward until there is nothing between them anymore, no fraction of space.
"We wait," the spirit whispers, breath tingling on Ryou's face, hands tenderly caressing his body.
They sink down to the floor, entangled, kissing and touching and holding each other.
They are still intertwined when Ryou drifts off into unconsciousness, knowing he might never wake again.