Chapter 11: Give You Hell
Yuugi and the others probably would have thought it strange that, just as they were clocking off and looking forward to an evening's rest, someone else's working 'day' was just about to begin.
Ryou was less than thrilled with the prospect of his impending six pm to three am shift as he reluctantly changed out of his casual clothes and into more 'professional' attire. Black skinny jeans again – always popular. After a few moments of deliberation, he picked out a close-fitting, black, three-quarter-sleeved top to match.
Dressing all in black always felt a little weird. It didn't look natural, somehow.
He went into the bathroom and inspected his reflection in the slightly scratched mirror, feeling like some kind of sprucing girl as he did every evening. The top was a v-neck, and the neckline plunged a little too low for his liking, exposing a sizeable triangle of milky-pale skin that contrasted sharply with the dark-coloured material.
"Nice 'uniform', by the way."
He dropped his gaze and fiddled fretfully with a lock of his silvery hair as Bakura's disparaging words came back to him.
"Asshole…" he mumbled. It really grated on him that the spirit's cruel remarks could still cut him so deeply and make him feel so ashamed.
He narrowed his eyes slightly, straightened his stance and looked into the mirror again, defiantly.
One, that soul-stealer's opinion shouldn't matter a damn to him.
Two, he had nothing to be ashamed of about his appearance. It was one of the few things about him that wasn't shameful. His alleged pretty face was just luck. He hadn't sold his looks – yet.
Besides. He was a boy. A low neckline wasn't exactly going to be a massive turn-on. And last night, all that he'd had exposed was his stomach. Stomachs were not erotic.
He groaned and left the bathroom, unable to believe he'd actually just had that thought.
He grabbed his grey canvas jacket and his mobile phone before leaving the apartment, locking the flaky green door behind him. He pocketed his keys and his phone. That was all he ever carried to work, if he could help it. Things went missing at the Lot, and rarely resurfaced again. So it was generally advised that employees only carried personal items that were absolutely necessary.
Ryou bit his lip and felt slightly sick as he slid his hand into his other pocket to check for the presence of the one other 'absolutely necessary' item that he always carried with him. Yes, it was there, cold and slick and so, so scary, as usual. He had been terrified that Malik or one of the others would notice it during his visit to the Game Shop. He didn't know what they would have thought of him.
Another tenant was passed out drunkenly out on the stairs, snoring loudly. Ryou stepped over him gingerly.
He walked as quickly as he could through the twilit streets without appearing hurried enough to attract attention. He didn't like winter. It got dark so early, and horrible things happened under cover of darkness in this place. And it was cold. He'd never held much affection for the cold. Even snow, which he'd always found dazzlingly beautiful, was much more pleasant when viewed through a window from the safety of a warm room.
He remembered Malik scolding him about his ineffective winter clothes earlier and cracked a rare smile, even though the memory nudged an unpleasant ache deep inside him. He was still somewhat peeved at the Egyptian for telling Bakura about Angels' Lot (and he still failed to see any logic behind the decision), but he missed Malik an awful lot. Maybe they seemed like unlikely friends, but Malik had taken such good care of him, back when…
He shook his head, unwilling to think back to that time.
Part of him knew, with unwavering certainty, that anytime he felt like it he could show up on Malik's doorstep, out of the blue, and the blonde would greet him with a smile, pull him inside and not let him leave again until they'd talked for about five hours straight, eaten whatever junk food they could find and drank whatever came to hand. He'd treat him like a real friend. Like family. Ryou could always rely on Malik to cheer him up and give him a tiny spark of hope to hold onto, no matter how dark and cold everything got…
But he just couldn't bring himself to go near that clean, tasteful apartment block in that clean, tasteful area. How could he? He didn't belong there anymore. And he had nothing to give in return. There was really nothing of worth left in him.
He was so deep in this festering pool of dark thoughts that it took him a lot longer than it should have to realise that something was wrong with him.
He wasn't breathing right. His throat felt strange. Hot. Clogged.
The streets of South Domino seemed to slow and fade around him for a moment. He managed to drag in one deep, proper breath and then proceeded to cough it back out, one hand clamped over his mouth as he did so. Oh God…
He didn't know how long he was coughing for, or how many people stopped briefly to stare – all he knew was that, by the time he'd finished, he was leaning heavily against a wall and his head and chest hurt. Really hurt. He tried to stand up straight and opened his eyes (which he didn't remember closing), only to find his vision swimming drunkenly. It made him feel dizzy and faintly nauseous, and he leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes tightly again, forcing himself to breathe deeply, calmly, in and out. Don't be sick. The bricks were cold, solid and reassuring against his back.
The feeling took a few minutes to pass, but when he opened his eyes again the world had gone back to dark and unpleasant normality.
He gave a small sigh of relief. That weird coughing always came on so suddenly, just like at the Game Shop, and those few times before…
It was perhaps not to Ryou's credit that now, like those times before, he forcefully brushed the incident off as something of negligible importance.
He suddenly heard a faint rustle of material and got the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. He turned around, ready to glare at any concerned bystander or (the entirely more likely) hopeful mugger. However, he could see no one. Puzzled, because his uneasy feelings were hardly ever unfounded, he looked all around him, trying to discern any hint of a person. The street was deserted.
The wall he had been leaning on was a good ten feet tall. Slowly, he looked up.
He stifled a gasp as he found himself confronted by an alarming figure, crouched atop the wall in a rather animal-like fashion. A pair of dark violet eyes stared down at him with a small amount of surprise and not all that much interest. For one ridiculous, bizarre moment, Ryou thought it was Malik – but of course not. After all, Malik's eyes didn't look like that at all. Not really.
"Mariku?" he said without thinking.
It was. Ryou had never laid eyes on him before, but he knew it could be no one else. The darkest darkness was peering down at him, all platinum-blonde spikes and billowing purple cloak and deep lavender eyes – darker than Malik's. So much darker.
Those eyes narrowed a fraction and Ryou swallowed, tensing slightly. He knew more about Malik's deep-rooted fear of his yami than almost anyone else, and it did occur to him that maybe he should run. But while those slanted eyes didn't hold any concern for the boy they had watched struggling for breath moments previously, they didn't hold any malice either.
"…You know me," the dusky-skinned yami said at length. Ryou discreetly moved back a few paces, but held his gaze.
"I know Malik," he said by way of explanation. Mariku snorted.
"I know that," he affirmed before leaning forward (somewhat precariously to Ryou's eyes) and peering at him more closely, "And you. I know you. You're the Thief's light."
"No," Ryou replied with a frown, "I'm Ryou."
Mariku tilted his head to one side.
"I see," he said at length.
"…Malik isn't around here," Ryou said after a pause. Mariku gave a small, humourless smile.
"I know that, too," he informed him.
"Then why are you here?" Ryou asked, perplexed. The suddenness of this encounter still had him baffled.
"Hm. I wanted to see what was so interesting," Mariku said vaguely, "I don't think I see it, though. You seem quite boring."
Ryou didn't know whether to feel insulted or merely confused.
"Don't be upset," the yami said, lying back on the wall's narrow summit and lounging there lazily, as if he were on a sun-bed and not a ten-foot high wall on a cold winter's night, "Everyone seems quite boring, compared to him."
"You mean Malik?" Ryou questioned, a bubble of anxiety forming in his stomach, "Have you seen him?"
Mariku looked slightly furtive.
"He hasn't seen me," he replied, "If that's what you mean."
"…You've been watching him?" Ryou said in realisation.
"Sometimes. From the shadows," the yami said, vague again.
"But…why?" Ryou couldn't help asking, thinking of the sheer horror Malik would feel if he had the slightest idea that those dark eyes were following his daily movements.
"I tried not to," Mariku said, looking off to the side as if in shame or guilt, "But I had to see him. Couldn't help it. This world doesn't seem all that real when I don't see him…" he trailed off and shifted his gaze upwards, towards the sky which, Ryou noticed for the first time, was starry and cloudless, "…He's changed, hasn't he?"
"Since you left? Yes. A lot," Ryou said, more bluntly than he may have intended. However, Mariku didn't seem to take offence, or even take notice.
"He seems so…calm," he said thoughtfully, "Not today, though…you changed all that."
"Today? You were watching the Game Shop?" Ryou questioned in amazement, "That's how you knew I know him…?"
"He was calm. But you brought all these highs and lows. I didn't know people could feel so many different things in one day…" Mariku remarked with some bewilderment, shaking his head, "I thought you must have been something pretty special, to make him go through all that."
"How closely were you watching?" Ryou asked, mildly appalled. Mariku chuckled quietly.
"I don't have to see omote to know what he's feeling," he said matter-of-factly. Ryou raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He supposed 'omote' was Malik's equivalent of his 'hikari', and for that reason he didn't like hearing it.
"So then I followed you. To see what was so interesting, like I said," the yami went on, scrutinising him as if still trying to see it, "I don't. But you notice more than other people, anyway. No one else in this world has even looked at me. Just you."
Ryou was pretty sure it was more paranoia than perceptiveness, but he didn't argue.
"Will you talk to Malik?" he asked instead. Mariku stared blankly at him for a long time.
"Do you think I should?" he questioned finally, sounding slightly intrigued, "Would it be a 'great surprise'?"
"Well, no," Ryou admitted with a shrug, "I don't think he'd like it."
"So I won't," Mariku said simply, looking back up at the clear sky, "Or I'll try not to."
"…Really?" Ryou said suspiciously, "Just like that?"
"It's better if I don't," the blonde yami said, as if this should have been perfectly obvious, "If it would only trouble him."
Ryou laughed softly and coldly.
"I guess that makes you the better darkness," he murmured venomously. Mariku blinked slowly, looking back at him.
"The Thief stays by you?" he questioned, "When you want him gone?"
"That seems to be his general endeavour," Ryou said with no shortage of bitterness.
"Hah," Mariku said, mouth forming a crooked smile, "He must have even more to make up for than I do."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Ryou asked dubiously, just as his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He looked away for a brief second to retrieve it, and when he looked back the yami was gone. He pulled a face.
"I guess I was boring him…" he muttered irritably, holding the phone to his ear, "Hello?"
"Ryou! Man, you're alive!" Ryou winced away from the earpiece as Kazuma's 'dulcet' tones blared through, "Where the hell are you?"
"Relax, I'm on my way," the white-haired teen retorted, glancing at his watch and cursing silently as he realised his coughing fit and chat with Malik's darkness meant he was now at least ten minutes late for work.
"Don't get snappy, man, I was worried sick!" Kazuma yelled, "You're never late, so I thought…"
"That I was stupid enough to get myself kidnapped?" Ryou finished for him, starting to walk in the direction of Angels' Lot, "No. I just…I ran into someone."
"Someone?" Kazuma repeated suspiciously, "Who?"
"Just someone," Ryou said stubbornly, "Someone from a long time ago. Not a mugger, rapist or murderer, if that's what you're worried about."
Just the psychopathic embodiment of my friend's anger and hate, he added silently to himself, only now realising the danger he could have been in. But Mariku hadn't seemed the way Malik had always described him, in the brief moments when he could conquer his fear long enough to talk about him…
"Whatever, man. As long as you're ok. But you won't be, if you don't get your ass down here soon. It's only a matter of time before Uchimura notices Sato turning every other waiter away."
"He's there again?" Ryou said, dread rising in his stomach.
"Yeah. Sorry. Guess he didn't get enough last night."
"If he thinks he's getting anything tonight, he's in for a shock…" Ryou muttered through gritted teeth, "Ok. I'll be there in a few minutes."
Unfortunately, what Ryou didn't know was that Takeshi Sato was not the only one of his current nemeses waiting for him at Angels' Lot.
Bakura watched with mild boredom as Kazuma finished his rather over-dramatic phone-call.
"He's fine," the taller man informed him, snapping his mobile phone shut, "Snarky as hell. That means he's fine."
"Fantastic," Bakura said dully with a slight sneer. Kazuma's evident distress at Ryou's tardiness had been pissing him off for the last ten minutes. At his lack of rejoicing the other man shook his head.
"Man," he said in disbelief, "You're colder than he is. Makes me wonder why ya bothered coming here in the first place."
"Hn," Bakura said dismissively, not wanting to get into that discussion again, "Why's he late, anyway?"
"Said he ran into someone," Kazuma said with a shrug, "Any idea who that'd be?"
"Saying he ran into 'someone' doesn't give me many clues," Bakura replied, raising an eyebrow.
"Tell me about it. 'Someone from a long time ago', I think he said. Sounds like a horoscope, huh?"
Bakura's forehead twitched into a frown at that. That narrowed it down considerably. One of Mutou's idiotic friends, maybe? The Pharaoh himself?
He growled and shook his head roughly.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open, accompanied by a blast of freezing air. Ryou stood silhouetted in the doorway, appearing slightly out of breath. As Bakura had somewhat expected, his brown eyes flashed icily when they found him invading his workplace for the second night running.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, slamming the door shut behind him, "Again."
Bakura merely raised his eyebrows in a mocking manner and folded his arms, as if silently scolding his light for his poor manners.
"Get out," Ryou ordered, pointing to the door furiously, "Just go."
Kazuya started to look distinctly ill at ease. Laughing internally, Bakura turned to him with a smirk.
"Do you want to tell him, or should I?" he asked tauntingly. Kazuma scowled.
"Shut up, man," he muttered.
"Tell me what?" Ryou questioned suspiciously, turning his stormy gaze to Kazuma, who appeared tempted to cower before him and his very evident fury. The temptation was overcome, however, and he instead grabbed the teen by the collar, dragged him over to the nearest kitchen counter, picked him up as if he were a doll and sat him on it. Ryou looked down at him with pursed lips and an expectant look in his narrowed eyes. Not meeting his gaze, Kazuma muttered some lengthy explanation that Bakura couldn't quite hear. It was clear that Ryou caught on pretty quickly, though, because the more the tall man told him, the more dangerous his expression became.
"So…" the teen said at length, speaking slowly and so, so coldly, "You want him…" he paused to cast a scathing look in Bakura's direction, "To protect me."
"…Yeah," Kazuma mumbled, looking more cowed by this skinny teenager than seemed quite possible, "I mean, I can't always be there for you…and last night, he…"
He trailed off when Ryou started to laugh – a quiet laugh that got steadily louder, darker and more spiteful. Kazuma stared at him, clearly disturbed by the unnerving sound. Even Bakura tensed up slightly, unsettled, as his hikari tilted his head back and just laughed at the ceiling.
"He's going to take care of me," the teen said finally. He kept his neck craned backwards, his small nose pointing heavenwards, but his eyes found Bakura, and it seemed to him that those eyes were still laughing in that icy, humourless way, "Him. Wow, Great Stealer of Souls. Isn't the irony just a little…bit…sickening?"
"Just a little," Bakura returned evenly, concealing his inner disquiet. Ryou's eyes laughed at him screamingly a moment longer, and then the teen gave one last giggle and slid off the counter. Kazuma stepped back to give him room, and maybe to put a little distance between them, too. Ryou didn't seem to notice. He pulled his jacket off and disappeared into an adjoining cloakroom to hang it up. When he reappeared, he made as if to walk straight past them without any further discussion.
"Ryou, man, wait," Kazuma said with a hint of desperation, grabbing his wrist, "I'm sorry, ok? I was just messin' around, I didn't know things were this…weird. Serious. Don't even worry about it, I'll get rid of him if ya like-!"
"No," Ryou said shortly, turning slightly to flash Bakura another frosty smile, "No. Let's keep him. Let's see how long he can take it. Let's see who hates best."
With that, he tugged out of Kazuma's grip and exited the room through the door leading to the main body of the club. He left the kitchen in a stunned silence.
"Damnit…" Kazuma muttered finally, whirling around to stare at Bakura, "What the hell is this? That was about a billion times creepier than last night! What is it about you that makes him snap? Hell, what did you do to him?"
"…Trust me," Bakura said with a grim smirk, "You wouldn't understand."
Kazuma growled.
"Did you hurt him?" he snarled dangerously, "I could understand that much."
"Hurt him?" Bakura repeated with exaggerated thoughtfulness, "Hm. I suppose I did. I hurt him over and over, and hardly knew I was doing it. It didn't seem important at all, at the time."
Kazuma stared hard at him, tight-lipped.
"And now?" he demanded, "Does it seem important now? Seems to me like you fucked him up pretty bad. Do you give a shit at all?"
Bakura paused and looked fixedly at the door his hikari had so recently left through before giving the honest answer.
"I don't know."
Ryou fought down the urge to curl his lip as he saw a sleazy grin spread over Takeshi's face when the man caught sight of him approaching the table.
It was too bad Takeshi hadn't witnessed that little scene in the kitchen. If he had, he might have known to take a few steps back tonight. He might have realised that Ryou was already riled up beyond normal reason, and that tormenting him in the course of the evening was statistically a lot more likely to get him strangled than on other nights.
But, of course, Takeshi had no idea about any of that.
"Well look who came out of hiding," he said lazily, leaning back with satisfaction as Ryou handed out the usual drinks, "Where've you been, Ryou?"
"I ran a little late, Mr Sato," he replied, hoping the idiot wouldn't notice his gritted teeth.
"Tut, tut." Takeshi said, shaking his head, "Keeping your admirers waiting? How disgraceful."
Ryou pressed his lips together and didn't say another word.
"…Hey," the peroxide-blonde man said suddenly with a frown, "Is that guy from last night here?"
"Which guy?" Ryou questioned, even though he could guess exactly who he meant.
"The one who broke up our little party," Takeshi said with a slight sneer.
"Oh, him," Ryou said absently, "I think he's here somewhere."
"Better keep his fucking distance…" Takeshi muttered, "Who is he?"
"New bouncer, I think," Ryou said with a shrug, as if it really didn't matter a damn to him.
"New, huh? Someone better show him the ropes around here real soon, or he's gonna wind up dead," Sato said ominously before grinning again, "Did you get the present I left for you?"
"Of course," Ryou replied softly, making his most humble and demure face, "You really shouldn't make such extravagant gestures, Mr Sato. People might get…the wrong idea."
Takeshi crowed with laughter.
"You're so cute," he chuckled, grabbing his chin and pulling him down until their faces were level, "You worried people might think we're involved?"
"Not at all," Ryou said with his sweetest smile, "I'm worried they might think you're a generous man."
He said it so innocently, so lightly, that it took Takeshi a few moments to notice the thorn amongst the flowery speech. He blinked in surprise, and then smirked darkly and tightened his hold on Ryou's face until it was painful.
"What a cold little bitch," he whispered.
"That's me," Ryou replied unsmilingly. He didn't care tonight. He couldn't hold his tongue or fake a smile tonight. He felt like there was some kind of vicious storm raging inside of him, and it seemed ridiculous that his day-to-day life wanted to go on as normal while he tried to deal with it. So just for tonight, he was going to let the mask crack.
"You're lucky you're so pretty," Takeshi informed him sinisterly, "People don't usually say shit like that about me."
"Maybe not to your face…" Ryou murmured, looking away. To his surprise – and displeasure – Takeshi just chuckled lowly.
"You've got a sharp tongue on you tonight, Ryou," he said, "I like it. Maybe one day I'll feel just how sharp it really is, huh? I bet it feels real good."
Ryou's face went white with disgust. He jerked out of Sato's grasp, not caring one bit if Uchimura saw, and spun on his heel and walked away. As usual, he could hear Takeshi laughing raucously behind him.
He reached the bar and stopped, struggling to regain his composure. He fought to keep his breathing even, keep his mind stable. At times like this, when just one too many things started bombarding him, he wasn't entirely sure of his own sanity. He didn't know how many times he'd caught himself on the brink of smashing a glass into Sato's face, shoving his boss down a flight of stairs, digging his nails into some amorous customer's wandering eyes…
Oh God, it just wasn't normal…
"Um…excuse me…?"
"What?" Ryou snapped, whirling around. His expression immediately softened when the unfamiliar young man behind him shrunk back in apparent fright, adjusting a pair of small squarish glasses sheepishly. Ryou cringed inwardly and took a deep breath.
"Sorry," he said in a much calmer voice, bowing his head slightly, "Sorry, that was really rude…"
"That's alright," the man said with a slightly nervous smile, "Sorry to bother you, you must be stressed from working…"
"No, that's alright…" Ryou said uncertainly, slightly thrown off by his politeness, "I just…never mind. Did you need something?"
"I was just looking to order some drinks," he said apologetically, "It's not urgent, if you're busy…"
"No, not at all," Ryou said quickly as he hopped behind the bar, only hoping that Uchimura hadn't seen him yell in this guy's face, "What would you like…?"
He took the guy's order – extreme lightweight stuff by this place's standards – and took it over to his table despite the young man's stuttering insistence that he could do it. Ryou reminded him that this was his job and he fell silent.
Ryou was surprised to find that the man wasn't here with a friend or colleague as he had automatically expected. Instead, he sat at a table with a much older-looking man with grey hair and a very severe expression that the teen found oddly intimidating. He didn't question it – what was it to him, anyway? – but the young man (who really seemed more like a mere boy to Ryou, but who was he to judge anyone?) seemed to feel the need to explain anyway.
"This is my uncle," he said with a bashful smile that was somewhat endearing, "He's trying to…um…you know. 'Show me the ropes' with places like this."
"I'll make a man of him yet," the older man grunted, raising his steely-grey eyes briefly in acknowledgement of Ryou and his drink.
"Places like this?" Ryou repeated vaguely as he set the glasses down on the table.
"Uh…yeah. I've never really been to a club before," the younger man confessed, looking unsure whether to be embarrassed or proud of the fact.
"Couldn't you have done better than this place for your maiden outing?" Ryou questioned with raised eyebrows, momentarily forgetting his position.
"As an employee, I don't think you're meant to talk like that," the older man said in a voice that betrayed very little amusement, "This is the perfect place, actually. Start right at the bottom and you appreciate the top a lot more."
"No offence meant, of course," the younger man interjected hastily.
"Of course," Ryou said dryly, "Enjoy your drinks."
He turned to leave, but halted at the sound of the older man's voice.
"Hang on there, kid," he said, sounding as though he was rather enjoying his the-customer-is-always-right status, "First you talk insultingly about your own workplace, and then you just turn your back on your customers? You're lowering my opinion of this place further and further by the second."
"I'm sorry," Ryou said, turning back to them, "Was there something else you wanted?"
"I know how these places work," the older man informed him brusquely, "You're paid to entertain as well as serve, right?"
"That depends what kind of 'entertainment' you're thinking of," Ryou said quietly, averting his eyes awkwardly. The man brought out a feeling of anxious shyness in him that he hadn't experienced since leaving high school. It wasn't a feeling he was eager to reacquaint himself with.
To his slight surprise, both men laughed quietly at his words, and the younger of the two looked more than a little embarrassed by the very idea of what Ryou had suspected they wanted.
"Get yourself a drink, kid," the older man chuckled, "Then sit yourself down here. And entertain."
Ryou hesitated, but only for a moment. He hadn't the slightest idea what the man was talking about – his obvious disdain for everyone here made it seem unlikely that he genuinely wanted his company for the evening – but he didn't want to be laughed at again (after all, that sort of thing pissed him off just enough for him to think about doing something crazy again). So he merely nodded and made his way quickly to the bar, where he poured himself a glass of Coke. Another young waiter brushed past him and smirked sardonically, his eyes practically screaming the word 'light-weight'. But that wasn't what made Ryou pause and then reach for the nearest bottle of vodka. No, it was that man. The older one. He made him nervous, and Ryou didn't like to be nervous…
He was careful not to make the drink too strong. Last time he'd done that, the taste alone had almost made him gag, and three glasses of the stuff had been enough to make him regret it the next day. He knew better now. Just enough to take the nervous edge away.
He glanced over at the table. Besides, he might need it. This could be a long night.
He picked up his glass and returned to the table, mentally steeling himself for whatever was to come. He wasn't particularly surprised when the older man failed to acknowledge his presence, though it did make him wonder why he'd ordered him to come back here. But he quickly found that the answer to that question was sitting directly to his right. The young man still looked somewhat ill at ease with his surroundings, but he smiled awkwardly at Ryou and stuck out a hand.
"I'm Hideki," he informed him as Ryou dubiously accepted the handshake – a polite gesture he hadn't needed to partake in for quite some time.
"Ryou…" he replied uncertainly, taking a sip of his drink as he got the feeling he might be needing its effects sooner rather than later. Because this was just plain strange. This wasn't what he was used to at work.
"It's nice to meet you," Hideki said earnestly, pushing his glasses up his nose in what was obviously a nervous habit.
"Christ, boy," the older man interjected with a growl, "He's a club worker, not a dinner date."
"What- what has that got to do with anything?" Hideki returned, looking absolutely mortified at his uncle's blatant lack of respect. Ryou, who was well used to such treatment by now, sat back and watched them with slight amusement as they debated how he should be spoken to. This guy…
Certainly, he was awkward and a little socially inept and clearly had absolutely no clue about the status and supposed role of workers within a club, but…
Ryou's eyes softened ever so slightly. In a place like this, none of those traits were bad things.
"What do you mean I have to walk him home?"
Kazuma gave a world-weary sigh and folded his arms. It irked Bakura to no end that the brown-haired man would cower in barely-disguised terror before Ryou, and yet never seemed even remotely threatened by him.
"Sorry, man, didn't I mention that in your job description?" the taller man said in an almost-drawl, "Like I said before, I'm not letting Ryou wander around this death-trap of a city alone at night."
"So drive him home yourself, like you did before," Bakura snapped.
"Shut up, man," Kazuma said absently, barely paying attention to him and his rage, "You're taking responsibility now. That's what you're here for."
Bakura seethed silently, unable to think of any further argument apart from the fact that he didn't want to walk through these dark twisted streets alone with Ryou, because one of them might kill the other and he wasn't exactly sure whose favour the odds were in, and because he'd spent long enough tonight not-quite in the presence of his hikari and that had been bad enough – just watching him at a distance had got him to thinking about how strange and cold he'd become and how everything was just so wrong, and he couldn't pinpoint how or why because there were so many ways that it was all just wrong, and...
All in all, spending any sort of time alone with Ryou at the moment was not going to be conducive for his mental (and possibly physical, depending on the teen's mood) health.
He was still simmering quietly to himself when his light came back into the kitchen a few minutes later.
"Ryou-!" Kazuma said quickly, as if concerned the teen would rush off again if he wasn't fast enough, "Shift's over, man."
"I can keep going," Ryou replied quietly. Bakura blinked despite himself. The teen didn't look anywhere near happy (it seemed he never did these days), but he seemed calm. The laughter and hysterics of earlier had apparently been temporary. He supposed Ryou just bottled everything up, absorbing all the anger and unfairness and hurt like a sponge, and then every so often it just exploded out in one crazy burst. Boom. Then he remembered that was why Kazuma had wanted him to come back here – to induce those little outbursts on a more frequent basis. He couldn't help but smirk. The guy almost definitely regretted it now.
"Your shift's over," Kazuma repeated in a tone of voice that gave away the fact that he was exerting some authority he possessed, pushing Ryou's pay for the night into his reluctant hands, "Go home. You look tired."
He did. Bakura felt idiotic for not observing it before. His only excuse was that the tiredness had become such a dominant, ingrained aspect of Ryou's appearance that it almost seemed commonplace. Scarily, it was getting harder and harder to picture him looking any different. If it ever occurred to Bakura to think about the Ryou from before – the Ryou he'd known inside out without really knowing him at all – it was a conscious effort to recall that face, that smile, those scared but gentle eyes.
Maybe because that boy from back then was fading away for real...?
Bakura felt slightly queasy without really knowing why.
"Your new bodyguard'll walk you back," Kazuma added just a little bit too off-handily, clearly fearing another horror movie moment.
"Him?" Ryou questioned, glancing at Bakura as if only just remembering about his existence (but he was still calm - the cold fire had burned out for now, the quiet ice was in control), "I'd rather go by myself."
"I don't care," Kazuma shot back at him sternly, to Bakura's surprise, "I'll back down from you about other things, Ryou, but not this. You're not going alone. Ever. Get used to it."
Ryou looked at him sourly but didn't debate the matter further, instead merely stomping off to the cloakroom to get his jacket.
"...Whoo," Kazuma whistled once he was out of earshot, severe facade falling away, "Took my life in my hands there, I think."
"Very brave," Bakura remarked dully.
"Yeah..." Kazuma said, ignoring or not noticing Bakura's blatant sarcasm, "Oh yeah, here's your first pay too. Are you excited?"
"Hardly," Bakura replied dryly, sneering disdainfully at the pitiful pile of notes being presented to him but pocketing them anyway.
"So difficult to please..." Kazuma sighed with mock-sadness before fixing him with a sudden glare that could have struck a weaker soul dead on the spot, "Listen up. This applies to tonight and every night you're here. Ryou's probably not going to make it easy for you to keep your eye on him on the way home. Hell, he makes it difficult for me sometimes, and no way does he hate me as much as you..."
"Why the crazy determination to go alone?" Bakura questioned, raising an eyebrow. He was aware that much of Ryou's behaviour these days was unfathomable to him, but this in particular seemed bizarrely out-of-character, not to mention completely illogical.
"Pft, you tell me why that kid does anything," Kazuma said, rolling his eyes, "I treat him like a baby brother or something, but that doesn't mean I have any idea what goes on in that wacky white head. Anyway. Ryou can be a crafty little punk sometimes. Even I've lost sight of him a few times. But, y'know, you're getting paid to do this. So I don't care how crafty he decides to be – you will make sure he gets home safe."
"Save your breath," Bakura snarled, "There's nothing you can threaten me with that would make any difference."
Kazuma looked at him darkly. It occurred to Bakura for the first time that one of the reasons the man looked so affronted when he talked down to him might be that Bakura actually looked physically younger than him. Oh, if only his mortal mind could comprehend the truth.
Ryou chose that moment to reappear, apparently ready to go. He glanced at the two of them and looked as though he was thinking about saying something, but in the end he simply turned away and walked out the door. Bakura stared after him for a moment, mildly baffled. Kazuma snorted audibly.
"Get to work, man," he said, clapping Bakura's shoulder briefly, "Enjoy the chase."
One way or another, Bakura did manage to get Ryou home in one piece that night, despite being tempted to rend him limb from limb himself more than once. He wasn't entirely sure how he managed it, but he felt like he'd really achieved something until he remember he'd have to do it almost every night from now on.
"Twelve o'clock tomorrow," Ryou informed him flatly as he entered his apartment building, not even turning to look at him, "Unless you've had enough."
"...Twelve midnight?" Bakura questioned, perplexed. Ryou threw a short, harsh laugh back at him, and he supposed that meant he'd guessed wrong. Twelve noon, then. Weird, but whatever.
Shaking his head, Bakura turned to head back towards the safer side of Domino City, unable to quite pinpoint any precise reason why he was doing this to himself.
Or Ryou.
God. This chapter was seriously a bitch to write. Well, the first few scenes were fine. Then it just felt like it was just going on and on and on...I was going to put a lot more detail into Ryou and Bakura's little jaunt home, but I felt the chapter really needed to end ._. Don't worry. You'll see waaay too many of those scenes soon enough.
By the way, I apologise for the abnormally high number of OCs popping up in this story. These are the last, I swear. And don't worry. No OC will ever get their own scene or subplot or anything which doesn't involve a canon character -.-
At least Mariku finally appeared. When I started planning this story out at first, he was actually scheduled to show up in chapter 3. Then he got shunted to chapter 5. And that somehow became chapter 11. My bad?
When I posted chapter 10, I hoped that I'd get enough reviews to push the total past the 200 mark. As it happened, you guys totally smashed the 200 mark to smithereens. Thank you all so much :) One thing I noticed, though...Even after 10 (or now, 11) chapters, everyone's defining moment of the whole story still seems to be Ryou cracking Bakura with the bat back in chapter 1 xD Will I never be able to beat that single moment of awesome? Seriously, I feel like the bat should have a name and back-story all to itself xD
Chocolate-smothered thank yous go out to Thief Mistress Thorn, pride1289, ONIX-21, Vladimir the Hamster, chibi heishi, Atomic Lightbulb, AirGirl Phantom, Franklyn, , Twilight-Imp-626, StalkPatrol, Chimera, AnimeLoverAngel, 0Capella0, YaoifanRisaMM, Sirithdiliel, felton0fanatic, Kiri-chan220, Ceilo, Paradocs, XionItachi, Crimson315, Lavender New Age, ScarlettKuasta, Schizo-of-Destiny, KyoxSakiFan, Niilan, ACE329, Airyballoon, subaru1999, Darksouled Saiyanphoenix, gliitch, animeluver29, Tenshi no Toki and FoxyHottie. You are all the ingredients for my favourite cake :]
Also. Last chance to vote in the next-story poll. It's closing tomorrow :]
Review?
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