Chapter 2
It all happened so quickly. One moment he was staring at Bakura's annoyed face and the next…
The tomb robber barely had time to widen his eyes as Ryou knocked him to the ground. No. 'Knocking to the ground' was an understatement. More like ramming down to the ground like an explosion with earth devastating force, the type of force that could chip kitchen tiles into thousands of tiny pieces like an anime robot fight scene.
Ryou wanted to scream, to curse the evil bastard for hours until his teeth came loose, to cry out in frustration. Only he didn't. He couldn't. Every time sound attempted to escape his mouth, all that would ring against his ears were his own punches against Bakura. Over and over, again and again and again. He might've been shouting, or he might not have. It didn't matter anymore.
There was crunching and cracking and gasping that felt so good, so very good, that he just couldn't stop. Couldn't stop smashing his fists against the face before him, couldn't stop the blood rushing through him like crazy, forcing everything mute. He was seething with hot rage. Seething like the first tea kettle that had ever managed to burn water. No more thoughts or direction, just the boy's knuckles colliding with Bakura's cheekbone. Bakura's temple. Bakura's jaw.
Smashing, crashing, shattering, careening blow after blow, pounding harder and harder against face bones that were probably cracking, no, definitely cracking. He wasn't going to stop and there was blood on the tiles and it was disastrous and wonderful and he wouldn't stop. He was grabbing his hair, Bakura's hair, in fistfuls and bashing his skull to the hard ground who knows how many times. Wanting nothing more than to feel the skull splinter and explode into smithereens like broken tile pieces.
After what seemed like years, the steam he was feeling in his body slowly started to evaporate, easing away with the tension from his knotted up muscles and clenching fists. Soon his whole body was trembling as he sat straddled across Bakura's midsection, letting his hands fall away to his sides. His breath was coming out in short pants. He was breathing harder than he ever had in his life. Looking down at the bloodied face of the unmoving yami below, he could easily have mistaken him as dead if it weren't for-
"I am so glad I'm already dead right now. Otherwise, dying would've been such a *%$#&."
-o-o-o-
Every inch of his body was either aching or numb. Blood was inevitably gushing from the back of his head, after the numerous slams to the floor, along with his mouth and nose. He wasn't quite to the point of opening his eyes again just yet, feeling that if he did the world might never stop shaking. Who would have guessed that a little thing like Ryou could do so much damage?
Throughout the entire beating, all Bakura could hear were frustrated screams and long strings of cursing from the other. Although whether or not Ryou had been aware of the curses leaving his own mouth was questionable. The sennen spirit's head was still currently unwrapping itself from his skull to truly recall what had just happened and for a second there, it almost tasted like someone had stolen his wallet. He might've been severely wrong, but he could've also sworn that he heard Ryou screaming a lot of non-sense that slightly resembled something close to:
"I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW I WAS ABLE TO TOLERANT YOUR~!*#$^&* %~^$!$#&(%$# ~$ALL THIS TIME! YOU SHOULD JUST ~$%&^$(!~$~^&($#~!#$*^%(^&* YOUR DAMN ~!$#^**%^)($#%$*!~$#%&&!*~!~$^~SEWING YOUR $#!% TOGETHER #$^($#~!#$*&*AND~!$#^#($#~! ~$^~($#~!#$*#~!($#($%($#$*&^$)~$( YOU BLOODY~!#$^&*%~!$#&!*^ (%#I'M GOING TO$^&!($#^!~~^$!#$#$#~$~$%&^#~%&%%$*HANGI$~*$(%~!#^&*%~^%%$*!~!$&($#~&%^)$~$(%~!#$^&*$)~$~^&($#~!#$^&*~!$#^*%^)($#%%$*!~$^~!#$&($$#~%~%&^$)~$$)(!$%&^~$~^&($#~$($#~!#$^&*~!$#^*%~%$#~^)#($%&%~$^(!TOPSIDE!$*!^)($#~!#$^&*~*!$#^*%^$#%*UNDER!~$^&~#$&($#~%^&^$)~$(~$%&^ YOU LOWLIFE$^~!#$&($#~%&^$)~$(~$%&^$)(!~$~^&($#~!#!$#^~$$(^!~ SON OF A *%^)~$^&(%(^$^&*~%^*&I'LL MAKE IT SO ^&($#~!#$^*~%&^$)(!~~!#$^$*~!$$&($#~%&^$)~$(~$%&^)$~$%&*~!$#^*%^)($#%%$*!&(%!$#^*^)($ #%$*~$*(~!$&$#%&^ THAT YOU'LL NEED TO GET IT OUT WITH THREE HANDS AND A FLASH LIGHT!"
Although this could easily have been his very impressionable imagination at this point.
Bakura's entire form quaked involuntarily as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. He vaguely sensed Ryou scurrying off of him as he finally managed to crack open his eyes and focus a little. It felt like his head was a giant dryer filled with glass and broken strobe lights.
After his mind cleared, the spirit realized that he was quite at a loss. He wasn't mad. Wasn't scared. A little confused maybe, but besides that, just nothing. Bakura glanced up at the boy, currently on the floor, backed up against a cabinet and staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. This, for some unknown reason, made him smirk. Ryou had somehow gotten away with pounding the name out of Bakura's existence, yet he was the one that was scared? That was funny!
He couldn't help but laugh. Laugh and laugh hard, because honestly, what type of person paves another person into cement and then trembles in fear? That was like a lion biting a mouse in half and then expecting the mouse to somehow devour it. Although, a laughing, decapitated mouse was a scary thought. Perhaps his laughing was what was scaring Ryou…
But it was just so funny to him!
Bakura continued to laugh even though his entire face was throbbing wildly with pain. His split cheek, lip, skull, and other various cuts were already starting to seal up and scar. The blood covering the tiles and his body was also disappearing away. Spirit matters were always funny that way. What would happen if he left a knife in his arm? Would his body heal around it or would spirity blood ooze from him until he finally took the knife out? Hell, what would happen if his arm got cut off? Would it grow back or would weird tentacles sprout from his stump and reattach the limb back to his body? It'd probably grow back. And maybe the old arm would disappear like his spilt blood.
I'll have to experiment some time…
It was then when he finally noticed how far his mind had wandered while his ghostly body was slurping blood into thin air. This only caused him to laugh even harder to the point where he felt like his sides were splitting.
From his hikari's prospective, that sight must've been pretty frightening too. Which might've been the reason why the boy quickly raced toward his room in a panic, knocking over a few chairs in his wake.
Just as the loud click of the lock on Ryou's door resounded throughout the house, a thought occurred to him that maybe this should be a good time to stop laughing.
-o-o-o-
He had been laughing. Oh, merciful god in heaven, he had been laughing. As if the hikari's pathetic attempt was nothing to him.
This couldn't be happening. None of this was happening. Why in the world did he think attacking a dark spirit was a good idea? Why the hell did he think it would do anything? Now Bakura was gonna murder him, skin him alive and bury the husk in the neighborhood park. No hope and no prayer in the world to save him. The only plausible thoughts to ease his fear of death were the chances of the man letting it go—which was probably not going to happen—or the itty-bitty, teeny-weeny chance that Bakura might just let him off with a stern warning, which was just pushing it.
He was clinging to the door's hinges like a buoy in shark infested waters. His heart was drumming so loudly he could barely hear himself think. This was the end. Ryou had always had a feeling that he was going to die young at the hands of the elder, but he had never imagined an ending quite like this. Oh, why couldn't his body stop shivering for one stupid second so that he could try to think up an escape plan?
There was always the window on the other side of the room! But the damn screen! This particular window unfortunately had a non-removable screen panel blocking the way outside. The only way through would be if he had scissors or a sharp blade of some sort to cut through the mesh.
None of which were to be found in Ryou's room.
Thoughts of the Egyptian thief smashing his face against a wall, choking the life from his throat, cutting his skin, bloodying his face, breaking his bones gripped him as they flashed through his mind like a cold sweat. No! He was not going to go back to that.
He had to get away. He had to-
There was a loud sudden thump from his desk.
-o-o-o-
Bakura had quickly manifested into the room using his spirit powers. He was only going to…hell, he wasn't quite sure what he had planned on doing or even what he was going to say when he saw the boy face to face. He wasn't even sure how he felt at the moment. The tomb robber knew that he should've felt angry, but he wasn't even sure whether or not he really was. In truth, for some reason, what he felt could only closely be described as…excitement?
No, it couldn't be, could it?
Excitement? Really?...Huh, who would've guessed?
The yami's foot accidentally hit the side of Ryou's desk causing said boy to quickly turn to him with a look that closely resembled a rodent in a trap. The young Brit looked about ready to jump out of his skin.
He was currently scrunched up against the window as far as he could go, looking about ready to break the glass if need be. For some reason, Bakura's eyes only seemed to zoom in on the boy's quivering lip, which for some reason was starting to look mighty appealing at the moment.
Mighty…cute, actually.
"L-look, I'm s-sorry! I-I don't know what came over me back there. It's just that you were-."
"Shut up." He didn't feel like talking. No, right now he felt like toying with his prey. "Tell me, Ryou. Did that feel good to you? Finally being on top for once? Straddling me like that? I've got to tell you, Ri, that beat down really took me by surprise. Would've never guessed someone like you could give me a concussion. What, did puberty finally hit?" With every vile word, he took a stride forward. Much like what had happened in the kitchen but with carpet beneath them this time and Ryou staring him straight in the face.
"Please, don't." The boy's grip was turning white against the window sill, his head flush against the glass.
The fear only made Bakura chuckle. "Don't what?" He was against Ryou in half of a startling second, causing the hikari to yelp in horror and surprise. Cold fingers were shoved into a mass of hair harshly. Not pulling, only giving the impression that he could. "I haven't done anything yet." A whisper so quiet against Ryou's ear it even managed to make the thief shiver. This only caused the spectrum of tremors and whimpers to spread like a toxic virus throughout the other's body. It was delicious.
Delicious and oh, so, enticing. Only for a second, until-
There was a soft 'hic'. Shoulders were no longer trembling, now shaking almost violently. Another 'hic'. And another. And another. Something wasn't going the way he wanted it to. Impossible! This was his time, his world, and damn it, Ryou was supposed to be begging now. Right now! He was supposed to be whimpering and stiffening up ramrod straight and turning warm in the face and everything, everything, EVERYTHING he was supposed to be doing right now, which, again, he was not doing! What the hell was the boy doing? He was…he was…
Crying.
Bakura pulled back in anger only to be met with the sight of his light with tears rolling ever so slowly from squeezed shut eyes. Ryou had given up. Broken and lost and more terrified than Bakura had ever seen him before. He was to the point where he no longer cared if he might be beaten or mocked, because it was as if he was already expecting it to happen anyway.
Suddenly, things were hitting him. Was this what he had really wanted? What he had been craving for so long? What other reason could there be for the years of torture? This had to be the reason! No way could he have done all of that for fun! No way, no way, oh please god, no way! He needed to see Ryou crying to his face, needed to feel power over him. Why he needed to was irrelevant! That had to be the reason. It had to be. Had to be or else he would just be a monster.
What stood before him was someone who was shattered and desperately clinging to himself for comfort. Someone who had finally lost the last piece of hope that held his heart together.
And no matter how hard he tried and tried and tried, Bakura suddenly found that he could no longer find any reason to make this feel right anymore.
He didn't quite remember when he started moving away, or quite even why. It was as if his hand was retracting on its own free will. His face must've looked pretty stupid, gaping with wide eyes. He did, however, remember, after it had untangled itself from Ryou's hair, that his hand had ever so slightly brushed against the boy's neck.
Ryou gasped loudly at the touch and convulsed rather violently at the fingers that graced his throat, probably thinking that he was out to choke him, and fiercely shoved at Bakura's chest with all he had.
"NO! I WON'T GO THROUGH THAT AGAIN!"
He remembered that he had grabbed at the hands on his chest by pure instinct to keep from falling back. Remembered the younger jerking his wrists from the spirit's grip from fear. Remembered the unsteadiness the act had caused.
Couldn't forget the sickeningly loud thunk that echoed from the window sill.
