Chapter Two

A sigh left chapped lips. His father came burrowing down the stairs, bumping to the teen.

"Oh! Sorry dad-"

"Watch it! Don't stand in the door way!" He shook his head bewildered at his son. "Honestly Ryou." He left in a hurry, checking his watch. Ryou frowned and finished hanging his coat up in the closet, since he was momentarily interrupted from doing that.

"Oh Ryou, darling! Mommy's got to go to a dinner party tonight! There's leftovers in the freezer! Try not to eat it all, don't want you getting fat now, do we?" She kissed the air next to his cheek. "Oh and sometime soon your brother is coming for a visit! So he'll need your room, of course. We made arrangements for you to stay with one of your father's business colleagues! Well, toodaloo!" She waved, slipping out of the house, yelling something at his father.

"Hi mom, hi dad. I'm home." He mumbled, walking towards the stairs. "How was your day today, son?" Ryou dropped his voice. "Fan-fucking-tastic! Someone tried to give me flowers and then gave me peanuts. How was yours?" He sighed, heading into his room and closing the door. Not that it mattered, no one else was there anyways.

"No worries about the room, of course he can stay in it, he's the golden boy son! Shall I grab a sleeping bag for the front lawn? Oh, you actually found me a place to stay this time? How thoughtful." He rolled his eyes

Ryou climbed into his desk chair and flicked on his laptop, checking his emails. "Hate mail, hate mail, hate mail, no I don't need Viagra, hate mail… what's this?" He opened the strangely titled email.

Just for you, Bakura.

He clicked the link and his heart dropped into his stomach. A website. They made a website dedicated to slandering him. He scrolled down and his breath caught. That was… no… he got rid of all the copies! How did that get there?! He watched the night vision, short video in horror. The boy that tricked him into sleeping with him had recorded it. This he knew. He had threatened to put it on the internet, but Ryou thought he got rid of all the copies. Apparently not though.

He quickly closed the site and walked over to his bed. A sob left him and his knees gave way. He sat on the floor, back against his bed and let the cries fall. It wasn't like anyone would hear him cry anyways.

Tristan opened the front door and shut it, letting out a sigh of relief when the cool air of the household hit him, the faint smell of cinnamon and frosting hanging in the air. It was enough to drive anyone insane with hunger. He slid off his shoes, he was all sweaty and fatigued from practice, coming home was always the perfect start to the evening.

There was a note on the mantel:

Hey sport!

I'm gonna be at the office late, your father is home, probably baking because you know when he's upset I have to stay late, he bakes. I love you both very much, I should be home shortly after 7pm.

Dad, xo

Tristan gave a nod as he left the note where he found it, entering the kitchen.

"Ooh! Tristy! You're home, hi hon." Raphael went to hug his son but backed up right away, "Oh hell-to-the-no, I will hug you after your shower, okay sweet pea? Don't sweat on my cinna-bons! They're just delightful aren't they?" He hardly let Tristan have a word in edgewise as he wiped the tall teen's forehead with a dry cloth, just to kiss it.

"They're sick!" Tristan commented.

Raphael's face fell, he was clearly offended. "What, do you not like them?"

Tristan waved a hand in protest, "No, no! 'Sick' is a cool term, it means awesome."

The older, flamboyant man raised a suspicious brow. "You kids and your terms these days. I hope I get 'sick' then!"

Tristan shook his head, "You're always awesome."

"That's my Tristy!" Tristan spontaneously hugged his dad anyways, who near squealed, remembering that he hadn't showered. "Oh you scoundrel, get into that shower before I chase you down outside with the garden hose!"

Tristan grinned and left to shower off all the sweat and grime he'd earned from a hard day's practice. He was looking forward to an evening of rest and relaxation, trying to get his mind off the continuous rejection he'd been faced with.

Raphael sighed as he flipped through the television channels, he'd just finished a marathon of wedding dress shows, offering his opinion even though he knew it wasn't being heard. "Tristy, I'm feeling a bit of action tonight. Your daddy's not home to deliver the exact kinda action I'm desiring, so how's about some superhero movie or something? I may be married, but I'm not dead - I can stand to look at a man in tights."

After several minutes of silence and more channel surfing, he raised an eyebrow when he felt sudden pressure on his shoulder. Looking down, he noticed Tristan was fast asleep. He shifted a little, a slight grunt, but found a comfortable enough spot on Raphael's shoulder.

"Oh I suppose you can nap, you're a growing boy after all." He took in the scent of the new cologne he'd bought for Tristan. "Only my little boy smells like a man now!" He exclaimed softly, as to not wake his sleeping teenager.

The lock in the door rotated and Raphael thought about throwing Tristan on the floor to greet his husband, but he decided against that. But his heart did skip a beat knowing that his beloved was now home.

Meanwhile Ryou followed the man up the steps. Apparently the decision to have Ryou stay was very last minute. As in 'can you take my kid? Great thanks!' sort of deal. He paused when the door was open, the man smiling at him and stepping aside, motioning for him to go ahead and enter. Ryou grabbed his worn out backpack, a few changes of clothes jammed inside.

Ryou slipped into the small home. It seemed cozy and the man, John he was told to call him, seemed very nice. The smell of cinnamon wafted his senses and his eyes closed momentarily. He looked around at the comfortable furniture, the soft colored walls. It was such a contrast to his large, minimalistic decor of his own home. Every room felt as cold as ice there. Sometimes he thought he may see his breath just from the look of the place. There wasn't a single picture frame in his house, well except in this one cabinet. That was full of his brother's accomplishments. But here? He couldn't find a spot on the wall of this home that wasn't filled with memories.

Raphael soon appeared in the humble front foyer, hugging his husband Jonathan tightly. "Hello my sweet, how was your day?" He glanced over at Ryou, "Oh! This must be our house guest you told me about. Hello, do come in won't you? I just finished making cinnamon buns, freshly frosted. Come, come, come." He ushered them inward, "And by the way, your son sleeps like a tank." He swatted Jonathan, who smirked in response.

"Of course he does, so do I." He gave a smile, "This is Ryou Bakura, he'll be staying with us for. . ." actually he wasn't sure how long, his colleague never did say. "awhile." he decided on that response for now.

"Well hi Ryou, it's a pleasure to meet you. Come in from the cold."

"Thank you." He bowed politely and straightened back up, avoiding eye contact. He slipped farther in, still hugging his bag. He had to admit he felt awkward standing in a stranger's residence.

It wasn't long before he had the tray of deliciously frosted cinnamon buns in front of him, being offered. They looked wonderful, as if they were from a page in a food magazine. "They're wondrous dear, but we should let Ryou get settled first before we dive into the treats, alright?" Raphael gave a nod, supposing John would know what's right. He walked away with them, leaving the two in the foyer. "Excuse my husband, Raphael, he comes off rather strong and I know he's flamboyant, but he's harmless once you've been around him for awhile. He loves people and socializing, so I apologize if he becomes too much for you. I love him to death, but I know he can be overpowering." He explained, sliding his loafers off and opening up the coat closet, putting his coat away and briefcase inside the closet door.

Ryou gave a nervous smile. "It's different. My home is very different. Well, you know my father so I guess you might have an idea…" He cleared his throat, his voice cracking a few times from nervousness.

Jonathan gave a soft smile, "Don't feel nervous. Here is the last place you'll be judged, believe me. And yes, I can't imagine living with the likes of, pardon me if I'm crossing the line, your father would be pleasant. We know how he works, smiles in your face and stabs you in the back. You, your loved ones, theoretically speaking. My apologies Ryou." he cleared his throat and welcomed the other into the living room, where a very soft, light snore was coming from an occupant on the sofa.

"No, it sounds like you've got the picture for the most part." He turned, shifting his bag. It made him feel safe holding it. He looked at the teen on the couch and dropped the bag, and his jaw, in shock. "You…" It was quiet. He walked over quickly. "You!" Ryou whacked the sleeping teen with his backpack, hard, his voice going frantic. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why won't you leave me alone?" He glared at the half asleep jock. "Everywhere I go, you're there! And you keep trying to give me stuff that'll kill me!" His voice ended in a growl.

It was very clear that Ryou and Tristan somehow knew one another. John slipped into the kitchen to occupy Raphael a little while longer, so Tristan and Ryou could have a few moments alone.

Tristan blinked a few times, shielding himself from the heavy backpack. "On the contrary to your beliefs, not everyone knows everything about you! I wasn't trying to 'kill' you! Who doesn't like flowers?! I... I was just, I wanted. . . you to notice me, like I notice you." He trailed off softly, ready to shield himself from another hit with the backpack if need be.

Ryou paused and hugged his bag just as suddenly as he swung it. "What do you mean, noticed me? I worked hard at not being noticed! Not that it helped much…" He frowned remembering the bullying from just earlier that day. He shot a glare at Tristan, stepping in such a way his side faced him, ready to run if need be.

Tristan sat up slightly, "I don't think you'd care for my explanation, but I like you okay? You obviously don't like me but that's okay, I won't make this visit hard on you. I, I want you to be as comfortable as possible. So you're taking my bed, and yes - I changed all linen and everything. You seem like the type who would worry about dead skin cells all over sheets." He stretched, still somewhat half-asleep. "I'll show you to the room, come on." He got up from his spot on the sofa, starting towards the carpeted spiral staircase.

Ryou gripped his bag and hesitantly followed. Why would he tell him he liked him? He shook his head. No, this is how it all started before. He wouldn't fall for that again! He followed behind the other, keeping a decent distance between them. His eyes took in the broad shoulder blades through his shirt. He followed down and looked away quickly. He shouldn't be looking there.

Before Raphael could 'Ooh' or 'Ahh' out loud, John covered his mouth as they disappeared up the stairs.

Tristan creaked nearly every other board on the stairs, where as Ryou barely made a sound. When he looked to make sure Ryou was still behind him, he was startled to find that he was. "It's right over here, the last door on the right hand side, and the bathroom is right next to it."

It didn't look like a typical jock's bedroom. What he was expecting were clothing piled on the floor, maybe a half-eaten sandwich from last week, a messy bed - the whole nine yards but he wasn't expecting a completely spotless bedroom.

Ryou looked around quietly, still hugging his bag like a life line. "It's… nice." He subconsciously walked to the window, looking out at the scenery. Despite the darkness, it calmed him. It was peaceful. He sat down without realizing, resting his head on his bag, bringing his socked feet up onto the window seat. He reached out and gently touched the glass, feeling the cold touch of it.

Tristan felt loyal to Ryou, especially since he was now staying under their roof, he wanted to protect him. He didn't want to say anything to scare him, although his reaction to the window was a bit odd. They only lived in a cozy two-story home, with a finished basement. It was humble, but what they called home. The backyard had a big flower bed that Raphael worked on religiously. It wouldn't be up much longer as the days were starting to get a little colder, but it remained so far. "Do you, uh, like the scenery?"

Ryou gave a nod. "Yeah." He let out a breath and sighed, continuing to look out the window instead of at Tristan. "I always wanted a bay window to read in." He admitted. "They turned that room into their work-out room though." He frowned and picked at a loose thread on his bag. As he did this, the zipper split. Ryou looked at it and frowned. He took out safety pins from another pocket and stuck them in by the broken metal, holding it closed. "You'd think I was poor with my clothes and bags. But I'm not. I'm very wealthy. Well my parents are." He looked back out the window.

Tristan nodded, listening to his every word. "That won't last long in this house, my dad's got a keen eye for clothes, he'll have you a new wardrobe before you can turn around. Not flashy like him or anything, but y'know." He remained exactly where he was in the doorway. "We have tons of books, books I've never even seen before. Right in the study here, directly across the hall. This one? It's totally bone-chilling." He grabbed a random book from the side table, not realizing it was the dictionary.

Ryou raised a brow and couldn't stop the laugh that started to bubble out. Soon he was gasping for breath, hiding his face in his bag. He shook his head amused. He looked at the taller, a smile actually reaching his eyes. "Thanks, I needed a laugh." The smile was gone just as quick as it appeared. He went back to picking at his bag.

Tristan gave a soft smile, it felt good to make Ryou laugh. "I'm not sure what we're having for- oh, yes I do. It's uh, homemade lasagna. I didn't throw out everything with nuts!" He was about to run and do that until he collided with his father, Raphael.

"Whoa baby, slow down there. If you're gonna throw out everything with nuts, dad's the first thing to go!" He chuckled. "Is everything okay?"

Ryou blushed. "I ah, I'm allergic to nuts…" He cleared his throat. Suddenly his eyes widened. "I forgot my Epi-Pen! Father's going to kill me." He groaned out, thumping his head against his bag. "I'm terribly sorry, but could I by chance borrow a phone?" he shifted awkwardly, slowly standing up, bag still glued to him.

Raphael scoffed lightly, smacking Tristan upside the head, softly of course. "Why did you not tell me he was allergic to nuts?"

Tristan himself hadn't even known. "While we're here, he's allergic to flowers and strawberries too, I think. And nuts."

He walked into the other room, bringing out a phone. "Here you go sweetie, if you need anything don't hesitate to let us know. Dinner is in an hour and I haven't touched any nuts, not even daddy's." He walked away, laughing.

Tristan's face went beet red, he hoped Ryou didn't hear that.

Ryou blushed and took the phone, dialing his father's number hesitantly.

You have reached Bakura, Hayato. I'm unable to take your call at the moment. Please leave your name, number and reason for your call.

Ryou sighed. "Father? It's Ryou. I'm so sorry, but I seem to have forgotten my Epi-Pen. Would someone please be able to bring it by? I'm at…" He gave the address and number to his father, hanging up awkwardly. He shifted and bit his lip. Hopefully one of the chauffeurs would bring it by.

He glanced back at Tristan, holding out the phone for him. It was then that it dawned on him. "You." It was soft. "You got me those flowers, didn't you?"

Tristan flinched, "I'm sorry! I won't do it again I swear!" It turned out that Ryou was just shifting his bag, he wasn't going to hit him with it again.

"Oh! Sorry." For the first time that night, he willingly lowered his bag until it touched the floor. He still had it leaning against his leg though. He hugged his torso. "I-it's okay. They were beautiful. Were they a prank? Why are you giving me things? Why do you like me?" He shifted, not looking at the taller. It had been a long time since someone wanted to be his friend. Even the boy he slept with three or four years ago… he never gave him anything but a bad reputation.

Tristan shook his head, "I'd have to be an idiot to drop a hundred on flowers for a prank." as he shrugged his shoulders. Even though he had to throw them out because the object of his affection was allergic, there was still that one moment of awe, that was what Tristan chose to remember. "I don't know why I like you, I just do. You give me feelings I can't explain, even though I unknowingly tried to kill you twice, can we call a... a truce?" He held out his hand meekly.

Ryou stared. A hundred dollars on flowers? And he had Tristan throw them in the garbage! Ryou looked at the hand for a long moment, leaving Tristan to feel awkward standing like that. Slowly Ryou reached out and took his hand between forefinger and thumb, doing one quick shake and yanking his hand back to his chest.

Tristan took Ryou's silence, as his agreement to their new truce.

:: Yu :: Gi :: Oh ::