Ryou was amazing. He was kind, understanding, and comforting. He was everything Marik could possibly want in one person.
So, why did it have to be this way? Why was Ryou so stupid?
Why did he always, always come back, after everything that had happened between them? Why didn't he fight back when Marik attacked him? Why was he still there by his side every night, whispering his saccharine words of love and affection into Marik's ear?
Yes, Ryou was so, so stupid. But Marik wasn't. Marik knew that he needed to drive Ryou away from him, before it was too late. Even if Ryou never mentioned or complained about the cuts and bruises marring his pure white skin, Marik couldn't ignore them. They were what his fingers ghosted over whenever he embraced the boy; they were what disgusted him and entranced him in each and every moment of passion they shared. Pain. Ecstasy. Ryou's agony was Marik's euphoria, and Ryou's agony was the reason that Marik couldn't stand to look him in the eye after each atrocity he committed.
And it was an atrocity. Their relationship, their unspoken words; their pent up emotions that threatened to overflow with each kiss, each laceration, each embrace, each spilling of blood.
Marik stayed- after all, he was attracted to atrocity. The suffering of anyone but himself never concerned him, and he had long ago become addicted to the energy from absolute domination over others that had come as a side effect of the possession of the Millennium Rod. The self-hatred and regret that came with his treatment of Ryou never settled in until after the fact. He never swore he would drive Ryou away until he came back down to reality, and saw an ungodly amount of crimson staining his hands. Then, he would decide that this was the last time, and now was the moment he had been waiting for.
And he never said a word as he promised himself this, because Ryou should have known. Ryou shouldn't be smiling as he fought back tears, crawling into bed later that night. Ryou shouldn't be wrapping his skeletal arms around Marik's waist, fully prepared to continue their destructive cycle first thing in the morning.
Ryou. Shouldn't. BE. There.
That was why Marik felt no remorse when he clamped his trembling hands around Ryou's throat and squeezed as hard as he could. Ryou couldn't be with Marik anymore, because Marik would only continue to destroy him. So even if Ryou stared up at Marik with those pitiful eyes, Marik had to be firm. It was for Ryou's own good, and Marik knew that. No matter how much pain Ryou was feeling at that moment, it was the only thing left that Marik could do for the one who, night after night, claimed to love him more than the world itself. The one who refused to leave Marik's side, even if Marik did everything in his power to drive him away.
The one who, in his last moments, stared up at Marik with unfocused eyes, smiled, and said he loved him.
Xxx
So it's been a while. A year and two months, to be exact. I spent a lot of time trying to decide how to interpret the ninth theme- "Drive." And then, all of a sudden, I stopped. I found other stories to focus on, and my 100 themes collection fell to the side.
But people kept reading it, favoriting it, and favoriting it. This story is now one of the most popular fics I have, in terms of the amount of followers it has. So I guess I can't really slack off anymore. I can't promise that I'll work on this one as much as the chapter fics I have going, but I CAN try to promise that I won't wait another year to update. So see you next time, guys- hopefully in a decent amount of time.
