Anzu didn't see Ryou again for a few days. When she found him, he was sitting on a park bench wearing dark clothes and staring at the ground. He was zoning out again, and it scared her to see him like that. At the same time, she was relieved that he hadn't been hunted down and arrested by police. Nobody—save doctors and hunters—got up to their elbows in blood like that without breaking the law somehow. And Ryou was neither of those things.
"Hey Ryou!" she called as she changed direction to run towards him. He started at the sound of his name. When his eyes fell on Anzu, though, he didn't smile, as she'd expected him to. He stood stiffly as the spunky brunette approached, stepping away when she reached out to hug him. His hands were shoved firmly into the pockets of his jeans.
"Ryou, what's wrong?" She looked hurt that he'd avoided her, and wide blue eyes clouded over with confusion.
"Stay away from me." His whispered warning was filled with fear, his dark eyes looking unbearably hollow and empty.
"What?"
"I'm dangerous." Shamefaced, he dropped his gaze to the ground again, taking another step back. "If you keep getting close, then you'll be next."
"You shouldn't let your life be dictated by your fear of—"
Anzu began to reprimand him in a way that she hoped would also be motivating, but stopped short when he suddenly removed his hand from his pocket and held something out to her, something she recognized. Something she'd been looking for.
"My necklace?" She carefully plucked it from his hand and examined it closely to ascertain that it was the same one her father had given her for her twelfth birthday. It was, and she carefully slipped it into the inside pocket of her purse before looking back at him. "How did you get it?"
Ryou didn't answer, just put his hand back in his pocket and kept his gaze fixed on the ground. His face visibly burned with shame, and it only took a few moments for Anzu to draw her own conclusions.
"You took it, didn't you?" Her features now contorted into anger. "You stole it!" She marched forward and slapped him, Ryou maintaining his disturbing silence. She stalked away from him without looking back, and he pressed a hand to the cheek that stung, then plopped back onto the bench.
"You really thought she'd understand," Bakura chuckled as his ghostly image appeared beside Ryou. "You actually thought she'd be able to understand without you explaining it to her. You clearly don't know her nearly as well as you think you do."
"I should have known better than to make a bet with you," Ryou mumbled, placing his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. "I should know better than to bet at all. My luck is awful."
"It's not your luck that's awful," Bakura chimed, sounding almost as if he were about to say something kind. Ryou lifted his head slightly, turning it just enough to glance up at Bakura's eyes through the veil of his own hair. The spirit smirked as he continued, "It's your destiny that sucks!" He cackled maniacally as Ryou dropped his head again. "You were always meant to be a loser!" His host sniffed and rubbed at one tired eye.
"I could handle being someone who doesn't win often," the lonely teen muttered to himself, far past the point of caring if someone heard him. "But I seem to lose everything no matter what. I get the wrong end of every deal, the short end of every stick... Sure, other people have survived losing their mother or their sister, or both like me. But who else has had to put up with something like you?"
"Relatively few throughout history," Bakura answered calmly, not even looking at the boy. "Although, if I'm being completely honest, you still get the worst deal out of all of them. Alexander of Macedonia probably had it best: together we conquered millions of people." His tone and expression took on an aspect of affectionate reminiscence, so much so that it sickened his landlord. "The pillaging, the battles, the sieges, the jewels, the massacres, the slaves, the screams..."
"Shut up." Ryou had his hands clamped over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut.
"What, do my memories bother you, Yadonushi?" Bakura leered over the boy, and even though he knew his form was incorporeal, Ryou couldn't help but cringe and draw back. The spirit laughed scornfully and leaned away. "You're pathetic."
"I am not," Ryou whined, trying to maintain a shred of dignity, even though he knew it was a lost cause. The more he thought about it, the more he hated his own life.
It was half past midnight when Ryou stumbled home in a stupor. In retaliation to Bakura's harsh and unending criticism, Ryou had gone out that night. Because of Bakura's goading and Ryou's inability to let the spirit get the better of him, he now had fifty dollars in his pocket from giving head to a stranger of the "tall, dark, and handsome" variety.
They'd done it in the alleyway beside the night club, and the rots of Ryou's hair still ached from the man's sharp tugging.
His mind was still foggy and he knew that if he stopped to think about what he'd done, he'd start to hate himself. So he didn't. He hummed the tune of "Fallen Angel" by Three Days Grace, singing the words in his head as he dragged himself upstairs to his room.
Fallen angel, in the dark, never thought you'd fall so far.
Fallen angel, close your eyes, I won't let you fall tonight.
Fallen angel, just let go, you don't have to be alone.
Fallen angel, close your eyes, I won't let you fall tonight.
Fallen angel...
Bakura'd never had so much fun with Yadonushi before. This past week had been a series of dares, bets, and tricks that dragged his host deeper into his isolation and confusion. This last bet was perhaps the greatest one yet, the culmination of his efforts to drive Ryou into an absolute surrender. The day he finally gave up trying to live in his own body was the day Bakura's path to power became clear. Right now, Ryou's pathetic persistent attempts to engage in society and be fulfilled by human interaction were the only things standing in his way. The pale-haired boy mattered far more than he believed, which was exactly why Bakura needed him to believe the opposite.
"I bet you won't do it," the spirit jeered as Ryou focused on the music blasting in his ears. He could still hear Bakura of course. Nothing could drown out his voice.
"It won't come to that," Ryou said quietly, swaplowing hard as he dropped his gaze a little to look down at the street several hundred feet below where he sat, perched on the edge of a skyscraper. It was the KaibaCorp HQ. That was Bakura's idea. He'd thought it would be funny at the time. Ryou didn't think it was funny at all.
He checked his watch for what felt like the thousandth time.
"Twenty-two and a half minutes have passed," he informed the spirit with a hint of reluctance. He would have thought that someone would notice a suicidal teen on the ledge of a roof by now. He only made this insane bet with Bakura because he'd counted on that.
"That means seven and a half minutes until I win the bet." Bakura grinned like a cheshire cat. "I still don't believe that you'll follow through with your side of the the bet when you lose."
"If," Ryou corrected stiffly. "If I lose."
"You know you will. Just admit it."
"No." Ryou may be on the verge of ending his life, but he'd wait the full half hour prescribed by their bet to give people a chance to see him and stop him. If he lost, though… He glanced down at the ground and swallowed again. How long would it take for him to fall?