Lawli: What's this? Can it be? It is! I'm actually updating this fanfic! It's a miracle!
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I'm terrified; I think that I may be losing my mind.
- Losing My Mind (Maroon 5)
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What have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done?
Little else besides the phrase occupied Ryou's mind as the reality of the situation finally settled in on the bus ride back to his apartment.
He'd destroyed it... the little happiness he'd had in his new life was gone. He could no longer go on working at Room21, he'd never allow himself to be degraded and treated as a whore again – though, after Malik's display from earlier, he figured nothing could be more mortifying and degrading.
Malik...
He'd been such a fool... How could he have though that the one night he spent with Malik – that night of bliss, of rapture, of true love – would change anything? He was still a prostitute, and Malik was still engaged – and now, Malik hated him, and Garrett probably did too. He'd destroyed several lives, not just his own. Ryou felt sick to his stomach. He held a hand over his mouth as a precaution.
How could I have been so stupid? I knew it would be trouble to get involved with him, I knew that, but still I... When he said those words to me, said he loved me, I couldn't tear myself away from him. I loved him too much... too much...
He lifted his eyes slightly, noticing an elderly woman on the opposite side of the vehicle staring at him with a look of sympathy on her wrinkled features. Ryou couldn't bear to look at her; he didn't deserve anyone's sympathy – not after what he had done. No, he deserved to be looked upon with loathing, screamed at, hated... he deserved anger, rage – Malik's rage, his insults, as much as they hurt.
Never again... I'll never see him again. He'll hate me forever; he'll never forgive me for deceiving him like that. I'm a disgrace to him. A slut...
The bus halted at his stop and Ryou exited, heading towards his apartment building at a slow pace. No doubt Xander would be inside, pacing in front of the door awaiting his arrival just so he could yell in his face about how worried he'd been.
"Where were you? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" Ryou could hear it now – and he heard it again the second he opened the door, as those were the very words he was greeted with.
Ryou didn't bother to answer, only slipped passed him, stepping out of his shoes but not bothering to put them on the appropriate matt – a single clue that informed Xander that something was amiss. Something was wrong.
"What happened?" he demanded to know, stepping towards the white-haired man.
Ryou glanced at him over his shoulder but then shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it. "Nothing."
"Bullshit, nothing!" Xander walked over to him, grabbing him by the upper arms and forcing those mocha eyes to stare directly up at his face. "Something happened... someone hurt you."
Ryou stiffened before shaking his head. "No, it was n-nothing."
"Someone hurt you," Xander repeated, a furious heat blazing in his ice-blue eyes. "Who was it? Tell me, Ryou," he pressed when it looked as if he wouldn't get an answer.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ryou averted his eyes to the floor. "It was nothing, I just... I just... I ran into... M-Malik. He knows." Bowing his head, Ryou tried to fight back the tears forming in his bloodshot eyes. "He knows the truth."
Unable to stop himself, he fell against Xander, sobs beginning to wrack his frail body once again. Xander stood frozen for a moment before coming to his senses and wrapping his arms around Ryou in a comforting embrace. He held the whitenette tightly, burying his head in the silken hair and inhaling sharply before pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.
"It's okay, Ryou... It's okay." He attempted to soothe him, but Ryou was inconsolable.
"N-no, it's not okay." Ryou's voice was muffled against Xander's chest. "He hates me... He hates me, Xander! H-he knows what a w-whore I am... he h-hates me."
Xander's blood boiled and he felt an uncontrollable anger sweep over him, blinding him with such an intense hate that, for a minute or so, he could only see red. Malik... Malik hurt Ryou. Malik Ishtar made his Ryou cry... and not for the first time. Xander's arms tightened around Ryou to an almost painful degree.
Malik Ishtar did this...
Neither of the men said anything more. They stayed in the embrace until Ryou's sobs had, for the most part, ceased and the whitenette sniffled and voiced that he was going to go take a bath. Xander released him and watched as he slowly made his way to the bathroom and disappeared from sight.
Clenching his fists, Xander entered Ryou's room, taking a seat on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts racing through his mind, all centered around one individual. Malik Ishtar. Malik Ishtar would pay for this, dearly.
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Somehow, not speaking lets me know everything.
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What have I done, what have I done, what have I done, what have I done?
Images from the encounter with Ryou flew across Malik's mind, and he remember with growing horror the words he'd said – the way he called Ryou those names, tossed money in his face, looked at him in the disdain that most save for common whores and beggers.
But that's what he is. That's what he is.
Malik tried to focus on his anger – on the rage he'd felt upon learning of Ryou's true occupation, and realizing that his own fiancé had slept with the whitenette. Ryou betrayed him – Ryou deceived him, he kept telling himself. Ryou was a whore, a liar and a cheater, and he deserved to be detested and looked down upon. He was just another slut, no better than the rest of the filth employed at Room21.
But he's not. Ryou's... he's not. Even if he does... sleep with men for money, even if he is a prostitute, he's not a whore. Ryou's not like that.
"Every night I give myself to a complete stranger, and I get good money for it. But every night, I have to have a different man touch me – do disgusting, filthy things to me. Every night I sleep with another man... I have to see another man's face, when the only face I want to see – the only face I've e-ever wanted to see – beside me is yours!"
Malik felt his heart lurch as the words repeated in his head, over and over again. He hadn't felt guilty after shooting down Ryou's professions of love, after accusing him for not even knowing what love meant because of his occupation, but now... Malik felt as though his insides were being eaten away. He felt shocked, disturbed by the words that he'd said – unable to believe that he'd been so cruel.
He'd been so angry, he hadn't even thought about what he was saying...
Ryou... oh, God, what have I done to you?
Feeling overwhelmed with self-loathing, Malik had to actually stop in his tracks and lean heavily against the nearest lamppost. He felt as though he was going to be sick – he wanted to hurl, hurl up every disgusting insult that he'd thrown at Ryou; he wanted to purge himself of the wickedness that had overcome him not even an hour ago.
Lavender eyes fell shut and Malik placed a hand to his head to ward off the ache growing more and more noticeable by the second.
What was he going to do? He'd look like a fool if he went back and apologized, even if he wanted to. Besides, he doubted that Ryou would want to see him right now; his apology would most definitely be thrown back in his face; Ryou had no reason to forgive him. Not this time. He'd gone too far, burned the last bridge. How would Ryou ever forgive him?
He forgave me in the past... he said he still loved me, even after what I did to him... But I'd never called him a slut in the past. I've never thrown money at him in the past.
Malik wouldn't be surprised if Ryou never wanted to see him again.
He would never want to see himself again.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Malik pushed off of the lamppost and began walking again. The streets had gotten colder with the absence of the sun, and with the shadow that now covered his heart even wrapping his arms around himself did nothing to keep the chill away from his body.
Hanging his head very slightly, he continued down the street, looking altogether like a man who'd been defeated by life. And really, he felt defeated – what did he have left? His relationship with Ryou could be kissed goodbye; Ryou would never take him back now, and Malik couldn't blame him. His engagement was teetering on the edge of collapse, but Malik didn't even know if he cared about that – if he even cared about Garrett anymore. Garrett had cheated on him, several times. And while Malik had done the same... it was different.
Malik had to face facts. While he and Garrett connected on many levels, and while he did love the redhead very much... he could never marry Garrett. He'd been engaged to the man for five years now, and he didn't plan on actually tying the knot – now especially. There was no way he could spend the rest of his life with Garrett.
No... the only person he wanted was Ryou. And now, thanks to his own stupidity and his own quick temper and his own stupid big mouth he would never have that.
He would never have Ryou. And if he couldn't have Ryou – Ryou, who he loved, even if he did sell himself (because he wasn't a whore, he really wasn't, he couldn't be; Malik refused to believe that, he knew Ryou had more pride than that) – then he didn't want anyone. He would never love anyone else to the extent that he loved Bakura Ryou.
But it won't be fair to Garrett if I leave him now. We were both wrong. We're both cheaters and liars but... we do love each other. And I promised him. I can't just leave him, even if I want to.
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But I got my freedom now, don't I?
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Garrett hadn't moved since Malik stormed out of the house earlier that evening. He'd fallen back onto the sofa after the door slammed shut, breathless, and had been unable to stand since. He sat frozen; with his mind reeling and his heart racing and his eyes leaking tears that he had long since thought himself too masculine to cry.
The whole situation was just ridiculous. Really – two lovers sleeping with (in love with?) the same man. He and Malik both with Ryou. It was like something from a messed up fairytale, only certain there would be no happily ever after in this – not for Garrett, at least. For Malik and Ryou... perhaps, but Garrett hoped not. If he couldn't be allowed the happiness of spending his life with the one he loved, then it didn't seem fair that Ryou and Malik both could be together.
The lock of the door clicked open. Malik was home. Garrett sat up straight and dried his face off. He hadn't been crying too much, thankfully, and so was presentable when the door opened to reveal a distraught Malik Ishtar.
Garrett didn't know what to think when he saw his fiancé walk through the door. He'd never seen Malik look so miserable before, and they'd known each other for quite a long time. Malik had always been strong, tough – never one to be brought down by emotions like sorrow. But now, Malik was drowning in a sea of misery and Garrett could only stand back and watch the sluggish movements of his would-be husband entering their home and trudging down the hallway.
He didn't even stop to acknowledge Garrett. Garrett wondered if Malik even saw him.
"Sometimes, when you look at me... I can't help but think that you're seeing someone else."
Malik smiled. "That's ridiculous, Garrett. There's no one else I'd want to see but you."
"I know, but... I just feel that way. Call me stupid, but... I don't know. Your eyes change sometimes, when you're looking at me," Garrett explained, his own green eyes focusing on the wooden floor of the other's dormitory.
He was almost twenty years old, but he was scared – he was scared because he was in love with Malik Ishtar, and he'd never been in love before, and when Malik looked at him Garrett wanted to be one-hundred percent certain that he was the only one the Egyptian was looking at.
Malik had many secrets, Garrett knew that; many skeletons buried deep – deep, way deep – in the closet, so deep that Garrett could never hope to uncover them this early on in their relationship. But Garrett hated secrets, he saw no need for them; they could only cause damage, only come back to haunt them and destroy them. He wanted Malik to be honest with him; he wanted to know everything about the Egyptian.
He wanted to know that Malik loved him, only him. He was nineteen years old and in love and a fool, and Malik was the only thing he wanted.
"Well... you don't have to worry. I always see you, only you."
Garrett closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping him as he sat back down on the sofa. You never saw me then. And now, you don't see me at all.
Lawli: Okay, this is so much angst that even I, the authoress, am getting depressed just by writing it. Honestly. This is a bit shorter than I intended it to be, but I wanted to update it now before I go on vacation. Hope it didn't bring everyone's spirits down too much! Haha. Happy Christmas to all who celebrate it, and Happy New Year too!