A/N:

Chapter 10 is mostly Bakura and Ryou! Enjoy, my tender shippers! Also, a massive time skip will occur. Make sure that your seatbelts are buckled and your time travel helmets are securely fastened.

Disclaimer:

Yu-Gi-Oh! belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. I lost the custody battle and now only get to see it on weekends.

Saint Mark's Church, Saturday, Evening

The loud bells of the church's carillon tolled out a hymn tune as people filed through the doors into the large, ornately decorated building. The pastor greeted the members of the congregation with a smile as they moved into the sanctuary to take their seats. Ryou stood on the curb and adjusted his tie nervously before heading through the doors.

"Ryou! There you are," the pastor said happily with a laugh, "We missed you on Sunday."

Ryou smiled timidly at the man as he realized he wouldn't be able to just slip in unnoticed. "Ah, yeah," he chuckled along with the man awkwardly, unsure of what to say, "I have to go somewhere else on Sunday mornings now."

"Oh? And where would that be?" the holy man asked curiously, prompting the boy to continue.

"I, uh, have group therapy sessions now." Before the pastor had time to comment, Ryou hurried off into the sanctuary to take a seat in a vacant pew in the back of the large room.

The service passed by peacefully, though Ryou's heart wasn't in it at all. The small teen no longer felt welcome in the church amidst all of the other Christian men and women. A feeling of unease and worry swept over him when the pastor signaled that it was time for the confession of sins. You could hear a pin drop in the silent room as all heads bowed to reflect on themselves. As quietly as he could manage, Ryou slipped out of the pew and all but dashed for the church's exit.

Status Quo Building, Sunday, Morning

Ryou fidgeted nervously, picking at the hem of the cushy bean bag chair he was sitting in. Maxine was staring at him curiously as the two sat in silence in the brightly lit room. As she swung her legs back and forth, Maxine traced a circular pattern with her finger absently on the desk she was perched on top of. A look of deep thought and concentration clouded her steely gray eyes. Finally, the silence was broken. "Ryou?" she asked.

"Yes?" he responded quickly.

"Why is it that you're here," she asked, never breaking eye contact with the small teen.

"Uhm, because you told me to come today. Remember?" the teen asked, slightly confused.

Maxine laughed. "No no. I mean why are you enrolled in our program."

Ryou looked down at his lap and twisted a strand of his white hair around his index finger. "I thought I told you already on that first day."

The therapist shook her head. "You misunderstand. I ask why you're here, not why your parents sent you here." At his look of puzzlement, she continued. "Why do you want to change?"

"But I don't want to change," Ryou told her quietly, "I like who I am, and I don't really care much if my parents are uncomfortable with my lifestyle. I just want to be me. Is that so bad?"

Maxine grinned at him. "Not at all. I knew it, though."

"Uhm, huh?" the teen asked, surprise written across his face.

"That's precisely why I'm making absolutely no progress with you, Ryou." She laughed loudly and jumped down from her desk. "I can't help you change if you don't want to change at all in the first place."

"Oh," he stated plainly, not really sure of what to say. In truth, Ryou never expected himself to change at all in the first place. Hearing someone else say it, however, was different.

"Ryou, if you learn anything from me, know that you are a beautiful, special person. Just being different from someone else doesn't make you bad, alright?"

"Okay," he replied with a small smile on his lips.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I'll have to call your parents later, though," she said to herself, already preoccupied with her own thoughts.

"I'll just go now, then," Ryou told her, heading for the door.

"Great. Send Yurichi in after you!"

Ahknemkhanen Estate, Basement, Afternoon

Yami's hand jerked to the side, twisting the pool stick and making him hit the cue ball straight off of the table and miss his target completely. "You what?!" he almost shouted.

Bakura's only response was to groan and peek out of the pile of cushions on the couch he had buried himself in moments ago.

"One thousand dollars. On the first date. Seriously, Bakura?" he asked again, leaning on his pool stick and watching Marik line up to take a shot at the billiards table.

Marik struck the stick against the cue ball, and the balls in the middle of the table broke out of their perfect triangle formation with a satisfying crack, scattering all over the table. "And then he ran away. Way to go."

"Shut up, Tombkeeper. You took Malik to a fuckin' hospital for your first official date," Bakura snapped back, tossing cushions and sitting up to glare at the other teen.

"What really gets me," Yami continued, surveying his options with a scowl as Marik continued to look pleased, "Is that you almost fucked him on the first date."

"So did Marik!" Bakura protested angrily, chugging another beer from the six pack sitting on the coffee table.

"That wasn't an almost for him," the teen said as he took another shot at the billiards table.

"Yeah," Marik agreed happily, "Malik was bending to my will long before our first date. And I do mean bending, you know." He grinned devilishly at his friend.

Yami smacked him sharply on the back of his head with his pool stick. "Lovely image. Thank you so much, Marik."

"Hey, hey. You fucked me before, too, Pharaoh," Marik informed him, "Or have you repressed all of those kinky, painful memories?"

"Unfortunately not," Yami replied with a slight pout as he positioned himself for his next move.

The blond went over to the refrigerator by the bar countertop and pulled out a can. "Want one, Pharaoh?"

"Can't," the teen replied glumly, "I quit that stuff."

"Whoa, seriously?" Bakura asked, shocked, "You quit?"

"As in, like, forever?" Marik added.

Yami nodded. "It's for Yuugi."

"Ooooh! Someone's in love!" both teens sang to him at the same time.

"So are you both!" he snapped back, waving the pool stick he was holding at them menacingly.

Bakura's smile immediately dropped from his face. "Fuck, guys. What the hell am I gonna do?"

"Have sex with Marik?" the blond in question asked hopefully.

"As appealing as that sounds, I don't think it'd do me much good," he replied glumly.

"Uhm, Bakura?" Yami asked.

"Hm?" the white haired teen grunted, holding his face in his hands with his elbows propped up on his knees.

"You could, you know, apologize," the senior suggested with a half-shrug.

Bakura gave him a blank stare. "I'm being serious here, you know. Let's not start talking like we've taken a mind-altering substance of some sort."

"It's not a bad idea, Bakura," Marik chipped in, draping his arms over Yami's shoulders and letting his friend support his weight, "I'm getting to know Malik a lot better, and I've never been happier. All because I told him I was sorry. Besides, apology sex is fantastic!"

"But I can't get Ryou to screw with me at all!" Bakura whined.

"Once again. First date. Bad move," the tri-color haired teen told him, glancing over his shoulder at Marik suspiciously.

"Fuck you, Yami," he moaned, "I know, okay?!"

Suddenly, Bakura's cell phone started to ring. With a defeated sigh, he checked the caller ID. "Dad?" he said, curiosity replacing his dismay. Yami and Marik watched him with mirrored expressions of interest.

"Hey?" Bakura questioned into the phone, "…Yeah. What about her?… Again?… Oh, shit. Did you send a search party?… Fuck. Yeah, I'll be right there." He snapped his phone shut with a frustrated growl and turned to face his friends. "Ez ran away."

"Oh really now?" Yami asked, thoroughly unconcerned. This wouldn't be the first time.

"Is that so?" Marik asked at the same time in the same tone. They both knew the drill by now.

"She's not in this country anymore," Bakura clarified, running a shaking hand through his spiky hair.

Necrophades Estate, Living Room, Evening

A middle-aged woman sat on a couch in her living room, fanning herself with a magazine. The couch was a dark green that matched the walls as well as her tracksuit. Her gray hair was streaked with white in places and pulled up into a high pony-tail, although some strands had escaped from the elastic band. Everything about her appearance spoke exhaustion, from her slouched posture to her tired eyes. Bakura stood behind the couch with his arms crossed and a thoughtful frown on his face. His eyes were focused on the back of his mother's head, silently willing her to get a grip before she worried herself to death.

A police officer entered from the doorway to the left and crossed the room, coming to attention in front of Mrs. Necrophades. He sighed, which made Bakura roll his eyes, and opened up his notebook. "Any idea of where she could be or who she could be with?"

"If we knew that we wouldn't need your expert help, genius," Bakura snapped at him in annoyance.

"Now, Bakura," his mother said in an oddly calm tone, offering her son a reassuring smile. "Ezma never told us about her life, so we had no idea she was feeling so crowded that she needed to escape," she told the man with regret.

"Her friends were a bunch of stoners," Bakura spat out with obvious contempt.

"Bakura!" Mrs. Necrophades exclaimed, "Where are your manners?"

"Dunno," he replied quietly, staring at the side wall with an air of indifference.

"Interesting," the officer said, jotting something down in his notebook, "Any idea of what time she left?"

"Well, Ezma usually slept in until the afternoon on weekends. To recharge her mental energy, you know? We didn't check on her until about two." Her mood changed dramatically and she choked back a sob. "What kind of parent am I?!" she wailed, burying her face in her hands. Her perfectly manicured nails made tiny marks on her cheeks where she pressed them into her skin. Bakura put a hand on her shoulder in an effort to offer her some comfort.

"Aina," he said impatiently, "Do you want to cooperate and get your daughter back or not?" When the only response he got from the woman was another heart-wrenching sob, he sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes. "Christ, lady."

Bakura's eyes narrowed. He walked around the couch and stood in front of the officer, towering over the short man. "Listen, fatty," he snarled, poking the officer in his large middle, "Nobody talks to my mother that way! I want you to either shut the fuck up or get the hell out. Clear?!" Bakura grabbed the man's shirt collar and wrinkled his nose in disgust as if he didn't even like touching him.

"Y-Yes," the officer stuttered back, gripping Bakura's wrist and vainly trying to pry the teen's hands off of his shirt.

"Great," he spat out, letting go of him and falling back onto the couch next to his mother. He watched, disinterested, as the police officer walked out of the room, casting a nervous glances behind him at the angry teen. "All this trouble for one brat," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Bakura," Mrs. Necrophades said disapprovingly, "She's your sister."

"Technically no," he replied, running a hand through his messy, white locks, "Anyway, it's not as if I have enough stress as it is. No, we have to have Ez and her random acts to get attention."

"You? Stress? Ha! What could you possibly be worried over, Bakura?" she asked disbelievingly, but her tone held a hint of concern.

"Ryou."

"That sweet boy you never let me meet?" she asked, "What trouble could he cause you?"

"He's too good, Mom. No one should be that innocent," he said with annoyance.

She looked at him with suspicion and accusation. "You didn't do anything to that poor soul, did you?"

Bakura chuckled humorlessly. "Something like that."

"Bakura Necrophades!" she exclaimed indignantly, "Honestly! Where in the world do you pick up this behavior at? How can you be so callous towards our partners in life here on Earth?"

He hummed quietly to himself while his mother continued to rant about having integrity and how horrible his manners are. Imagining himself away from his living room, he tried to picture how his date would have gone if Ryou wasn't such a prude. As soon as the image of Ryou popped into his mind, all upset and shocked, he felt a pang in his chest. "What the hell?"

"What?" Mrs. Necrophades asked in annoyance, "Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Mom, I…I've got to go out, okay?" Bakura said shakily, standing up and leaving for the front door before his mother could protest. Grabbing his keys off of the table in the hallway and slipping into his coat, he strode quickly down the walkway. Jamming his key angrily into the lock on his truck door, he flung himself into the driver's seat. "I do not miss him, damn it!"

Monday, Domino City High School, Hallways, Morning

Growling angrily at no one in particular, Bakura slammed his locker shut and gave it an extra kick for good measure. The other students walked a safe ten feet away from him in case he decided to switch from beating up inanimate objects to people.

Yami walked casually up to his friend, carrying his school bag over one shoulder, and stood silently as Bakura continued to take his anger out on his locker. After a few seconds, Marik walked over with the same calm yet curious demeanor.

"Fuck it all! Fuck you, fuck me, fuck everyone, fuck life, fuck all the fucking fuck out of everything, bitch!" Bakura ranted furiously, punching his locker with reckless abandon.

"Ah, Bakura?" Yami asked in a level tone, "One has to wonder what the hell is up with you today?"

"I'll tell you what the hell is up with him," Marik answered, "Judging by how many times he's said fuck, and taking into account the fact that he's ruined yet another locker door, it can be inferred that Ryou hasn't come back to him yet."

"Ah." Yami nodded understandingly. "Is he right, Bakura?"

Marik crossed his fingers behind his back.

"He needs me, damn it, and he fucking knows it! So then why the fuck hasn't he called?!" the white haired teen yelled, turning to face his friends with murderous intent in his eyes.

"Score!" Marik pumped his fist in the air.

"More than just a pretty face, aren't you?" Bakura spat out angrily, glaring daggers at the blond.

"This is getting stupid. Bakura, why don't you just go apologize to him already? As long as you take it out on us and the furniture, Ryou will never know that you miss him," Yami stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I do not miss him!" Bakura yelled, grabbing the collar of Yami's shirt and lifting him off of the ground, bringing their faces so close that Yami could feel his friend's ragged breathing.

Yami squirmed. "Alright, alright already," he conceded nervously, "You don't want him back, and I get it. A little help, Marik?"

Marik grabbed Yami by the waist and ripped him out of Bakura's grasp. "No manhandling the Pharaoh, Bakura."

"I never said I didn't want him back," Bakura told Yami testily.

"Yes you did!"

"Hardly, Pharaoh," Marik interjected with sarcasm, moving in between the two quarreling teens, "Bakura doesn't give a damn about Ryou's feelings or what he wants. All our Tomb Robber wants is to get into the kid's pants. Everyone knows that emotions will only get in the way of a relationship. Especially a truly successful, meaningful, and long-term relationship like the one they have. I can see why he's so confused. There's no doubt in my mind that it wouldn't occur to anyone that love is more than just screwing around."

Bakura looked like he had been slapped in the face, and Yami just looked stunned. They both stared, slack-jawed, at Marik. "Wow. That was impressive," Yami said finally after a few seconds of total silence.

"Thanks. I owe it all to Malik kicking my ass around and keeping me in line," he replied a bit fondly.

"Being with Malik taught you all that?" Bakura asked, oddly quiet.

"Well, being in love with such a kick-ass guy can teach you a thing or two."

"Oh," he replied quietly and walked off to class without another word.

Marik and Yami watched him go with identical expressions of concern on their faces.

"Wonder what he'll do next," Yami said to himself.

"I hope I got through to that idiot," Marik said with a shrug and switched his books to his other arm.

"That was you not long ago, remember?" the teen reminded him.

"Yeah, but I figured it out."

~~Time Skip~~

Saturday, Bakura Household, Late December, Morning

Yawning widely, Ryou threw the covers off of his bed and promptly stood up. He stretched out his arms and glanced first at the clock, it read eight, and then out the window. Snowflakes were drifting listlessly to the piles of snow on the ground from the storm the previous night. Walking over to his closet, Ryou gazed absently at his reflection in the mirror. If only his hair was a little messier, his eyes a bit more wild, then Bakura would be right there staring back at him. Sighing, Ryou turned from the mirror. "Why do I even bother pretending?" he asked himself out loud, "I turned him down. That's the end of it. I don't put out or anything, so there's no reason for him to want me back." He sighed. "Maybe if I was more like Malik, then maybe Bakura would look twice at me again."

Ryou yawned quietly, descending the stairs in his pajamas, and rubbed at his eye. His parent were sitting at the kitchen table reading the newspaper together.

"Good morning," Ryou told them sleepily, heading for where they kept the cereal.

"Morning," his father mumbled, eyes still fixed on the newspaper.

"Good morning, Dear," his mother said. She stood up and walked over to the stove. "Eggs for breakfast sound good?"

"Thanks, Mom," Ryou replied gratefully, taking a seat at the table.

"Have you heard any news about that little friend of yours? Her case is still in the paper."

"Nope," Ryou replied.

"Oh. Are you two still not on speaking terms?" she asked gently, afraid of saying something she shouldn't to her son. Lately, every time someone mentioned Bakura in front of him, he would clam up and lock himself in his room for hours at a time. Once when he didn't lock the door, they found him staring at his reflection in the mirror.

"No," Ryou replied stiffly, but he remained at the table.

"Oh. That's a shame."

"Yeah."

Necrophades Estate, Morning

Bakura opened his eyes groggily, confused when he noticed that it was still pitch dark outside. And why were his toes cold? Pushing himself up, the blanket fell off of his bed to reveal his unusually cluttered room. He groaned and rubbed his head before standing up and shuffling over to his closet. Staring into his mirror with a frown, he could almost imagine himself with tidier hair and softer brown eyes. "After what I did," Bakura told himself, "I can forget having anything to do with that kid ever again."

Bakura's usually clean room was cluttered with all sorts of things. Worn out notebooks, pencils and pens, bobby pins with single strands of snowy white hair still in them, worksheets, a worn-out set of headphones, a dark green scarf, some sheet music, and even empty soda cans were strewn about his room. This was only scratching the surface of all of the things Bakura had laying around. These things didn't belong to him, however. They were Ryou's. You see, in the time since Ryou and Bakura had split, the senior had taken up a new hobby. Photos of Ryou Bakura lined the walls, covering almost every inch of white paint. The sight was a little overwhelming.

He headed slowly out the door and down the hall to the staircase. With each sluggish step he took, the smell of the chef making breakfast became stronger. In the dining room, his mother and father were already eating breakfast. While his mother's attention was fixed firmly on the wide-screen television in the corner, which was playing a yoga tape she had filmed recently, his father was talking on the phone with the investigation team.

"Give up?" he asked crossly, "Why would we give up now? It's still far too early for that. Our little girl is still out there somewhere." Mr. Necrophades raised a hand in greeting at his son as he talked.

Mrs. Necrophades, wanting to be as quiet as possible so as to not interrupt the call, mouthed the words "good morning, Bakura" and motioned to a chair. As soon as Bakura sat down, the chef appeared and placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

"What do I pay you for?" Mr. Necrophades asked crossly, "Do I pay you to give up?" He stood up and left the room, still arguing on the phone.

Bakura raised his eyebrows at his mother.

"The investigation team wants to stop searching for Ezma," Mrs. Necrophades informed him with a shrug, eyes never leaving the television screen.

After nearly inhaling his breakfast, Bakura stood up and left the room. "I'm going out," he told his mother. Picking up his jacket off of the coat rack in the hallway and grabbing his keys, Bakura threw all his weight at the door to force it open. The snow piled on the steps, on the walkway, and in front of the door came all the way up to his knees. "What do we even pay those groundskeepers for anyway?" he asked himself gloomily and forced his way through the drifts towards his truck.

Some of the streets in Domino City hadn't even been plowed yet. Bakura's giant tires left deep trenches in the snow as he drove at a safe twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. Only when the teen was coming down a quiet little street with rows of houses did he slow down. He pulled over to the curb and cut the engine. After rummaging around in the back seat for a while, he pulled out a square, black camera with a strap attached to it. Bakura kicked the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk, heading down the block towards an awfully familiar house. He looked around for a minute, contemplating which angle would be the best to photograph from when Ryou came out to get the mail. This was his hobby, after all.

A/N:

I'm so sorry this update took so long, everyone. I wish I could say that there's a large word count to make up for it, but there isn't. I also wish I could say that I was super busy and couldn't type as frequently, but that's only half true. Still, the update is here, all the same. We don't have that many more chapters left to go! Two at the most, actually. I bet you're all going to go leave me a little review now, aren't you? I always feel guilty when people leave such nice reviews and I know that I'm such a lazy author. So guilt trip me! I'm game! Thanks for reading, and I'll see you all in 11!