It was around two in the afternoon the next day, when Bakura heard another knock on his door. The teen glared at the unwelcome disturbance. He had just had his bandages (painfully) changed, and was already in a nasty mood. It seemed like the staff were constantly barging in- giving him shots, giving him pills, or messing with his wrappings. He really didn't care what they wanted from him right now- he just wanted to be left alone. No doctors, no nurses, no lost patients- nothing. The door slowly opened a few inches.
Instead of a sterile lab coat or a drab hospital gown, Bakura saw a pair of plain blue jeans and a light blue shirt.
"Hello?"
He tensed at that voice.
'Oh, hell no...'
Just as he thought, the voice belonged to that weird kid from yesterday. He watched apprehensively as the small face popped in from behind the door. Bright, chocolate-brown eyes seemed to shine from underneath the intruder's long, white bangs.
"Bakura Touzokou? I don't know if you remember me, but I accidentally came in here yesterday, and I wanted to apologize for leaving so soon- I had to find my assigned 'Bedside Buddy' before visiting hours ended. I hope that wasn't rude of me." He gave a small bow of apology.
'Fine. Whatever. Just GO!' But Bakura still couldn't scream at the idiot- he could only glower.
He knew his own dark stare was enough- it greatly enhanced his blood-red eyes and his sharp features. He'd made grown men shiver with just that glare.
But the stubborn brat didn't even flinch. The street fighter was baffled. Then he remembered the bandages- they were probably warping his expression.
...great.
"And I brought you something- I noticed that the ward doesn't have many magazines- I guess it's to lower the risk of infection?"
Just as he finished the sentence, the younger boy's eyes widened in anxiety. He began waving his hands frantically in front of his chest.
"Oh! B-but don't worry! I disinfected these just like the nurse told me to. But you probably shouldn't share them with anyone until they've been cleaned again."
The ward did have a few magazines, but they were all health care titles; very old and very boring. Even if Bakura had his own health insurance, he doubted he would give a rat's *ss about 'different benefit packages.' He'd only flipped through two of them before giving them back to the nurses.
The 'pal-ly' kid (or whatever he was called) lifted a heavy paper bag onto the small side-table next to the patient's bed. Bakura's glare still didn't dampen the other teen's enthusiasm.
"I wasn't sure what you would like, so I got a few of the popular ones." He smiled. "My neighbor works at this bookstore, so she gets a discount on everything."
The mute punk frowned. Normally, he would've cursed and threatened the kid until he ran out of the ward, screaming. Bakura wouldn't be caught dead hanging around with such a doormat at school or on the street.
But still, he couldn't deny the fact that it was getting really, really d*mn boring in the vapid and sterile dwelling that was Room #314. He took a moment to stare at the drab, white walls and the barely-functioning tv.
'...crap.'
Bakura then reluctantly reached into the bag. He couldn't imagine what kind of stuff the goody-goody nerd considered 'popular.'
The directionally-challenged 'buddy' watched happily as the other teen took out issue after issue. At first Bakura was completely irritated- who the hell their age read 'Time' and 'National Geographic'?! He wished he could give the kid a piece of his mind. Or maybe even his fist.
But a few layers down he found several more interesting titles, like 'WIRED' and 'Car & Driver.' He pulled out a few more ('Popular Science,' 'Puzzlers Monthly,' 'MAD') when he saw a very interesting cover. There was a beautiful woman on the front, covered in more tattoos than clothing. The title read 'INKED' and it seemed to feature different tattoo artists and art.
"Oh, sorry; that one's for me-" The boy grabbed the tattoo magazine with a slight blush.
For the first time since he met the runt, Bakura found himself curious. Why would such a prim and proper dweeb be interested in a magazine about tattooing?
He paused for a moment, his incredulity and boredom pushing his irritation out of the way.
'What the hell; I'm not doing anything else today.'
Bakura pointed to Ryou, then to the magazine.
"Hm?" Ryou took a moment to realize what the burn victim was (not) saying. "Oh, the magazine... I-" He hesitated a little, his face regaining that faint flush. "I... really like tattoos. I just love the artwork and the fact that it's on a living, breathing canvas." His eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle with passion. "I mean, when else does an artist have a canvas that can put meaning into those words and images? What other kind of canvas can choose and wear those specific images for the rest of their life?"
Bakura's frown lessened a bit. This kid had a really weird way of putting it, but what he said made sense- somewhat.
"I also love looking at websites with tattoos on them- there's some really beautiful ones that focus on the more intricate designs. They even have websites for international shows and contests! I'd love to go to one sometime." The pale visitor giggled. "But then there's the humorous sites where people post pictures of tattoo 'fails'- you know, like a tattoo of Spongebob hitting a bong that looks like it was done by a 5-year old?"
Bakura smirked at that image. That sounded like a site he would actually check out himself.
"I mean, can you imagine having to explain that to your grandkids one day?" Ryou's eyes danced with amusement.
Bakura felt the wispiest trace of a laugh growing in his throat, but he couldn't vocalize it.
As Ryou reached for another magazine, his left wrist came close to his face. He glanced at his wristwatch before jumping in surprise.
"Oh no, I'm late to visit my 'Buddy'!" He quickly stood up. "I have to go, but is it alright if I drop by again tomorrow?"
Bakura paused for a moment- normally he would never have agreed; but this weirdo was the only visitor he'd had. He was starting to get pretty sick of just sitting on the rock-hard bed, doing nothing.
So he shrugged. 'Sure, why not. It's not like I'm going anywhere soon.'
Ryou seemed to understand the silent consent. "Ok, see you tomorrow, Bakura!"
Bakura frowned- he hadn't given the twerp permission to use his first name. He sighed as the kid left. 'Whatever.'
He began flipping through the magazines- it was nice to finally have something appealing to read.
Bakura was glancing over the newest 'MAD' magazine when another nurse came in with more pills. He wasn't pleased with the intrusion, but for once he didn't give her the death-glare.
He continued reading late into the night, until the same nurse came by to turn off the lights. He slipped under the starchy sheets and fell into a quiet slumber.
The next day, Bakura wasn't surprised to see the white-haired nuisance knocking on his door.
But this time Bakura's usual flash of irritation was slightly dulled. The room's tv was cr*p, and at least he wouldn't end up staring at the ceiling for the next two hours (it was a flat, plain white, for crying out loud!).
He sat up a little more and made a lazy 'come in' motion with his hand.
Ryou smiled as he stepped in the room. He had a rather worn knapsack slung over his shoulders.
"Hello, Bakura! I hope you're doing better today."
All he got was a shrug, but the boy didn't seem to mind. In fact, the 'Buddy' volunteer seemed particularly bouncy today. Bakura held back a sense of foreboding. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all...
The younger teen took the old backpack off of his shoulders and began riffling through it.
"So, I found something last week when I was digging through my video game stuff- this is my dad's old cell phone."
Bakura stared. The phone was very thick and obviously very old. Possibly older than him.
"It's kind of broken- it doesn't make calls, or receive them. I doubt he'd mind if you kept it- he was planning on recycling it anyway."
The look on Bakura's face was priceless.
'A phone that doesn't make phone calls. Gee, thanks.'
Ryou noticed the look, but he only grinned a bit wider.
"But, you can still text on it- you can't send anything to anyone, but it can work as a crude keyboard- see?"
Ryou took the phone back and began typing a rough message. /Testing one two three./ He gave the phone back to Bakura.
"This way you can tell people stuff, and it's faster than writing it out!"
Bakura's eyes widened. This was actually a pretty useful gift.
"The nurses won't let you keep a regular cell phone, but I asked Miss Hanasaki if you could have this one." He seemed to pout for a moment. "She looked it over for half an hour, and kept asking if it worked or not. I think she was messing with me."
Bakura was glad to find that he could still give a faint snorting noise. That seemed like something the purple-haired girl would do. That nurse was a complete ditz.
"But in the end she decided it was o.k., so long as you don't try to hook it up to a carrier." Ryou pointed to the phone's keyboard. "Do you know how to type?"
Bakura quickly tapped the buttons. /No. I don't. Not at all/.
Ryou giggled. "What a shame, I guess I'll have to bring you something easier, like a typewriter."
/Why did your dad even have this old brick?/
Ryou laughed again and took a seat on a hard, white chair. "My dad's one of those 'save the Earth' fanatics- he likes to recycle everything. But he had trouble finding a place that would take this phone. It's so old they weren't even sure what metals were in it!"
/Fail/.
When the snickering died down, Ryou turned his gaze to the patient's good eye before speaking.
"So, do you go to a local school?"
/Domino High/.
"I've never been there- is it big?"
Bakura shrugged. /I guess. It's public/.
"Are the teachers decent?"
/Some are. The rest are assholes/.
Ryou blushed at the curse word but didn't say anything.
"Do you know what you want to do when you graduate?"
Bakura thought for a moment. He had no idea, so he just made up some cr*p.
/I wanna be rich. And famous. Maybe a rock star/.
"Oh wow!" Ryou seemed genuinely impressed. "Do you play any instruments?"
/Nope/.
Ryou 's giggling was almost contagious, and Bakura's sides twitched very slightly.
The other boy leaned forward in the plastic chair. "I'd like to be a botanical researcher, myself."
"..." Bakura didn't need to type or speak this time
"Oh, that's when somebody studies plants for a living- what effects forest fires are having on wild grasses, what invasive insects are threatening trees, how poisonous plants are evolving, ect."
/Fascinating/. Bakura's face echoed the sarcasm in his text.
But Ryou pouted (in what was no doubt meant to be an angry look, but only came off as adorable). "Hey, it's not like being an astronaut, but it's still important- you can't eat vegetables that aren't protected from insects and rot, right?"
/I don't eat vegetables/.
"Ever?! But-but how do you stay healthy?"
/I quit smoking/.
This time, the visitor wasn't sure if the inpatient was joking or not.
There was a sudden beeping noise, and Ryou quickly pulled out a newer cell phone from his right pocket.
"Oops, excuse me; I have to take this- Hello?" The boy walked into the hallway.
After a few moments of hushed talking, Ryou stepped back into the room.
"I'm afraid I have to go for the day- I need to run some errands for my father."
The visiting teen quickly packed up his backpack and started to leave.
"Oh! I almost forgot-" he quickly handed Bakura a long, black cord- "this is the charger! I don't know how long the battery lasts, but you might want to keep this within reach. See you Friday?"
Bakura nodded before he really thought about his answer. He lifted up his head, but the door closed and he knew the boy was gone.
The bandaged hoodlum shook his head in annoyance. Yes, the kid was a class-A swot, and he looked like a 12-year old girl. But unless they suddenly decided to build an arcade down the hall (which was highly unlikely)... that confused 'Buddy' volunteer might be the only thing that would amuse him.
And if he was really going to be here, in this hellhole, for several weeks... it might be better to let the little dork hang out with him.
For now.
