Oohhh yeah. Updateness man! Long chapter, too XD

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING HAHAHAHA!!!


Bakura bit his lip as he slowly blended in the colours, the white and pink, and just the slightest of yellow, to gain a porcelain, pale hue. For skin. The yami stared down at his own hand, for comparison, before adding a little more white. He really didn't want much colour in it all. He wanted it to look... Deathly.

Maybe a little of the light grey... Bakura stared as he gathered just a little of the grey onto the end of his brush, mixing it in slowly, meticulously. As he hoped, the skin tone took on a dead, lifeless hue. Perfect. He smirked, raising his gaze to his painting. He lifted his brush to the painting, and was about to take the first stroke, add a little 'colour' into the central figure, when he sneezes. The brush jerked in his hand, smearing a little across the canvas.

Bakura's heart stopped. His eyes widened, and he leaned in closer to examine the damage. It was in the lower corner, not insignificant, but it didn't ruin the painting. It's okay. Bakura tried to not be angry as he stared at the little smudge. After all, I can turn it into something. He gathered more paint on his brush, and quickly dragged a diagonal line, short, across the canvas. His teeth gritted, he repeated the action, before starting on the angular curves and details. He worked so hard, his attention to detail and meticulous skill turning small, accidental feature of the painting into something so realistic. On an impulse, he added a little more pink, just a smidge, to his tray, with the deathly white skin, and ran over what he had just done. The effect was immediate. It just held so much more life, in that bottom corner. As usual, Bakura was completely lost in his artwork as he painted, ignoring his aching back and the crick in his neck. It just didn't matter as he worked, his tongue between his teeth.

Finally, Bakura stepped back, blinking as he stared what he had just drawn. It was a hand. Slim, bony even, and pale, it looked like a photograph. Bakura bit his lip, staring at the slender hand, long fingers stretched out in an imploring gesture of hope. There was a huge diamond ring set in a platinum band on the fourth finger. Bakura took a step back, his eyes widening in realisation at what he had unintentionally done.

He'd drawn Ryou's hand in his self-portrait.

The brush slipped from Bakura's fingers, clacking against the floor. His little plastic tray where he mixed his colours followed suit, black, grey, white, red, and yellow spilling over the carpet. Fuck! Bakura held his hands over his mouth, screwing his eyes shut tight. You were supposed to be trying to forget about him, not including him in your fucking painting! Bakura moaned, the sound muffled. He slowly sank to his knees.

You put him in because he's such a big part of you. It's your subconscious trying to tell you to forgive him and let him back in your life-

SHUT UP!Bakura shook his head wildly, gasping for air. Not true not true not true! That is not fucking true! He slowly lifted his head, starting to hyperventilate as the thoughts all whirled around in his head, like some kind of crazy tornado. It's not true! Look at it in relation to the painting. It's... He's not... I don't want...

Oh fuck Bakura shakily stood up, doubling over for a moment with his hands on his knees. The yami closed his eyes again, just for a second, before straightening his back and half-walking, half-running into the kitchen. His hands quivered as he wrenched open the kitchen drawer, half-clean steak knives, fruit knives, and butcher's knives staring up at him.

Why the hell are you doing this? Bakura tried to block out the saner part of himself as he rolled up his shirt sleeves, staring down at his arms. Why do you ever do it?

I don't know. Bakura gritted his teeth as he picked up the longest, sharpest-looking knife, pressing it against his skin. The metal was cool to the touch, and it seemed to calm Bakura, just a little. I don't fucking know. The yami arched his neck and gasped as he ran the sharp blade over an old wound, bringing hot, red blood to the surface. He stared down at his arm, the shaking spreading to his arms and legs.

Because you can handle physical pain. The annoying voice almost lilted in a teasing sing-song. But you can't handle emotional pain at all. Ryou fucking hurt you, and this is your way of dealing with it. Bringing about a different sort of pain. You can't do it forever.

"... Can so." Bakura muttered, leaning against the kitchen counter. He felt short of breath, and everything spun. He was so weak...

Is that why you're about to pass out? His so-called 'conscience' sounded smug.

"Not." Bakura growled, his eyes half-lidded. He stared blearily down at the knife, down at his bleeding arm, and closed his eyes, pressing his lips together tightly.

No?

"Shut up." Bakura's legs folded like paper beneath him, and he sank to the linoleum, leaning heavily against the wooden doors of the counter, moaning weakly. He was sleepy, so sleepy...

You keep doing this to yourself, you're gonna lose this body. It warned. Be stuck in that fucking ring all over again. Until Ryou takes the ring again, and you share a form with him again... Being attached to him, day and night, being closer than lovers with him...

"Ugh." Bakura's insides curled in disgust. "I'd destroy his soul..."

The Pharaoh would kill you. Kill us. I didn't realise that was what you wanted.

"'s not." Bakura mumbled, his eyes now closed as the knife slipped from his fingers. "Never..."

Then stop slashing your wrists everytime you think about Ryou. It was the last voice Bakura heard before he pitched over, onto the linoleum, slumped against the vinyl flooring as a slow pool of blood steadily eeked out around him. Bakura was unconscious within seconds, lying face down in a spreading pool of his own blood.

And he wasn't even at rock bottom yet.


"Hey, they're home." Yugi noted as Anzu's car pulled up beside the Game shop, looking up from his homework. "That didn't take too long."

"That's not good." Jounouchi muttered, biting his lip, twirling his pen between his fingers. "Man, I hope Bakura's okay."

"Yeah." Yami agreed, sprawled out in an arm chair. The three heard the front door open, and a few second later, Ryou entered the lounge, silent and red-eyed.

"Hey..." Yugi bit his lip, as his eyes widened in alarm. "Bakura, what's wrong?" He stood up, shifting his gaze to Anzu. The brunette behind Ryou shrugged, her face clearly concerned.

"They..." Ryou choked down a sob, and slowly sank into the soft couch cushions. "I... I can't believe they're doing this... I-I'm sure they can't..."

"Do what?" Yugi frowned. "Making you repeat the year?"

"...Worse." Ryou finally breathed. He rose his face, staring up into Yugi's concerned face. "They... They're sending me back a year on Monday."

"What?" Jounouchi's eyes widened. "Bakura, they can't do that!"

"I know!" Ryou burst out, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "W-Why are they doing this..."

"Didn't you get straight A's last year?" Anzu was shocked. "You did! I remember that. You got top of the year in like, five subjects. Why do you have to repeat it?"

"Because the principals an asshole." Jounouchi muttered, clenching his hands into fists.

"Jou!" Yugi reproved, frowning. "Don't say that!"

"What, he is!" The blonde argued. "Look what he's doing to Bakura. It's totally unfair. He knows everything that's happened to you, Bakura. You should be getting excused and compassionate leave by the truckload. Especially after Monday night." Ryou shrugged hopelessly, holding his head in his hands.

"I know I've done bad..." Ryou murmured. "But I-I just can't believe they're sending me back on Monday like this... All these new classes, all new people... I-I can't do it... I really can't, guys. Not on top of everything else..."

"Hey, it's going to be okay." Yugi said consolingly, forcing a tiny smile. "We're all going to be here for you, Bakura. You know that."

"I-I know." Ryou finally choked out. "But... C-Can you help me in my classes? I get hassled enough as it is... What is everyone going to say when find out I'm being held back?" The other four stared, realising Ryou's worst fear.

"Bakura... When did you start caring about what other people think?" Yugi asked.

"I-I always have..." Ryou sniffed. "It... It just hurts, all the time. Whenever I get bullied or teased... And I know that... When those bullies made fun of me, it was only because they were jealous. I-I mean, I had their own girlfriends asking me out." Ryou couldn't hold back a tiny smile. "And that was a big confidence booster, knowing that I was liked and that it was only jealous morons who made fun of me. But I don't even have that anymore. No one really likes me."

"Bakura, please don't be down about this." Anzu begged. "You've got friends who really care about you, and are going to help you through this. What more could you want?"

"I-I want Bakura." Ryou moaned into his hands, his shoulders shaking as the tears exploded, and he collapsed into sobs. It was a stupid, childish vain hope, Ryou knew, but he just couldn't help it. All he wanted was the pair of soft, familiar arms to fall into, hear that low voice in his ear mumble that everything was going to be all right...

"I-I'm going to bed." Ryou stuttered, after only allowing himself a few moments to break down. Shakily, he stood up, wiping at his eyes and cheeks. "Thanks for the help guys... I really do appreciate it." He turned away from them all, his hand lingering on the back of the sofa as he slowly started to walk out of the room.

"Bakura..." Yugi muttered weakly, biting his lips. "Please don't be upset..." Ryou froze in the doorway, before turning to stare at the shorter teen.

"Then how am I supposed to feel." Ryou managed to keep his voice flat and emotionless. "You tell me."

"I... I don't know." Yugi mumbled, lowering his gaze to the carpet. "But you're acting like it's the end of the world... It's not, Bakura." Ryou merely pressed his lips together, very tightly, his hand clenching on the doorway.

"I-I don't expect you to understand, Yugi." He muttered gently, swallowing. "You don't know what it's like to have nothing. I don't have family, I-I don't have a best friend or a lover anymore, I don't have a place of my own... I know school was messing up, but it still felt like one last place where I wasn't a complete failure. But I screwed it up. J-Just like everything else..." Ryou drew in a deep, long breath. "I'm going to bed." He turned abruptly, and walked down the hallway, into his room. He slowly sank down onto his bed, holding his head in his hands as he cried, for a long, long time.


Ugh.

Bakura groaned as he was roughly lifted from a fitful sleep. His forehead was resting on the linoleum, which was still wet with blood. The yami groaned again, momentarily forgetting where he was. It was the sharp sting of his arms that brought him down to earth with a thud.

Oh. That's right. Bakura sighed deeply, raising his head. He stared down at the crimson puddle of blood for a few moments, before slowly, wearily sitting up. He stared down at his arm, the long, fresh wound, red and angry looking. The yami rubbed at it, wincing, before looking around himself, his eyes settling on the pool of blood and the long, sharp knife. Hell. Bakura looked down at himself, his baggy paint stained shirt almost drenched in places. Why the hell did I do that... Bakura bit his lip, remembering. Oh yeah.

You can't keep doing this. His conscience piped up. You passed out, you fucking idiot. Find another outlet for this.

"I did." Bakura muttered aloud. After a seemingly endless three minutes, he summoned the strength to slowly stand up, leaning heavily on the kitchen counter. The yami panted, softly, as he started to walk out of the kitchen and into the lounge, staring at the painting in his blood-drenched shirt. It was well on the way to completion, the fact giving Bakura some satisfaction. He bit back a smile, keeping his lips slack, before looking down at himself once more. Blood was all over his arms, even in his hair... He ran his fingers through the white locks, wincing as his bony white digits snagged at a tangle. Dried blood came away in his hands, and Bakura made a face. I need to clean up. He sighed, turning away from his painting, and walking towards the bathroom.

Being covered in blood was fun, but it wasn't when it was your own.


It was late morning when Ryou finally woke up.

The whitenette groaned, rubbing at his eyes as he slowly rolled over in bed. Sunbeams hit his face, and he shaded the bright light with his hand. Ryou slowly opened his eyes, and bit his lip, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Ryou whimpered, closing them again, and burying his face in the pillow. He just felt so miserable and depressed...

"Bakura?" Ryou jumped at the knock on the door, sitting up in reflex. Yami poked his head in the door concernedly, his face breaking in relief as he saw Ryou was awake. "Oh, you're up."

"... Barely." He mumbled weakly, his mouth fuzzy with sleep. He rubbed at his eyes weakly. "Wh-What's going on?"

"Nothing." Yami smiled weakly. "I was checking to see if you're okay. Want a coffee or something? Toast?"

"... Not right now." Ryou yawned, his hair rumpled. "What's the time?" Yami shrugged, ducking out of the room to glance at the hallway clock.

"It's almost eleven." Yami reported, staring at the whitenette. Ryou's chocolate eyes widened.

"B... But I was asleep by nine..." Ryou mumbled, staring down at his hands. "How could I sleep fourteen hours?"

"Ryou." Yami sighed. "When was the last time you slept more than five or six hours straight?" Ryou shrugged weakly.

"Long time ago..." He breathed. "Weeks..."

"Exactly." Yami muttered. "I'm not a doctor, but even I know that's not healthy. It's probably the reason you were feeling so bad, Bakura." Ryou shrugged again, listlessly, flopping back down against the pillows. "You okay?"

"Not really." Ryou responded truthfully, feeling a little more quick, a little less sluggish. "I..."

"I know you feel bad." Yami murmured sympathetically. "But it's probably better to just not think about it. Keep yourself occupied, and stuff. Come watch some TV, you might feel a bit better. I think some talk show is on. Now those people have problems..." Ryou smiled, very weakly, and shook his head.

"U-Um, no thank you." He murmured politely. "I-I'm still tired... I think I might go back to sleep." Yami regarded him with surprise.

"Really?" Ryou nodded, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Oh... Okay then." He was confused as he pulled the door shut, leaving the frail whitenette alone in the room, shaken and scared.

Ryou rolled over onto his stomach, and cried.


It was about three O'clock when Bakura finally finished his painting.

He lowered his brush, blowing silvery bangs out of his eyes as he stepped back, admiring his work. His arm was numb, from holding it up for so long, but he ignored it, staring at the painting, taking in every detail. Woa. It was so unlike sketching, where you were only given the little rectangular piece of paper. The canvas was so much... Bigger. But if you made mistakes, you couldn't rub them out. Bakura learned that the hard way.

The yami sighed, deeply, throwing his brush and paint tray carelessly to the floor. He was exhausted, physically and mentally, and wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. But of course, his mind just wouldn't allow it.

What the hell does it mean? Bakura didn't even know himself. He stared at the figure in the middle, the sinuous, dark tendrils grasping and stretching at the bottom of the portrait, and Ryou's slim, ringed hand, pleading, desperate...

It shows you still care about him. Bakura closed his eyes, groaning. You literally hold his life in your hands. It's what you wanted, isn't it? It's what you always wanted. Total control of Ryou, mind body and spirit. It's the entire reason you broke out of your cycle with the kid so long ago. To claim he was truly yours. And you have it. The kid would kill himself if it was your will. You got exactly what you wanted. And you're not happy.

"Of course I'm not fucking happy!" Bakura shouted. "When did you pop up? When the fuck did I get a conscience?"

You always did. Did you forget that you hit your head really really hard? And got bad brain damage? You've heard the phrase 'all in your head' before, I know you have.

"Oh shut up." Bakura muttered, opening his eyes, and tearing his gaze away from the painting. "You're so not real."

Yeah I am. I'm that little subconscious part of you that knows what you really really want. And I know you want to be with Ryou-

"I don't!" Bakura screamed senselessly. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut the fuck up!" He held his head in his hands. "God, I've lost it. I've fucking lost it." He let out a long moan, slowly lifting his head. "Bloody hell."

Yep. Isn't it fun?

"No, it's not fun!" Bakura turned on his heel, snarling. "This is- Why the hell am I talking to you?" The yami rolled his eyes. I'm not being rational. It's just a stupid voice in my head. I've always head it. I'm just letting myself give it human characteristics, and that's not rational behaviour... Christ, I have been listening to Sanami after all... He shook his head. I just need everything to shut up.

Don't you dare

Bakura swallowed, padding almost calmly into the kitchen and pulling open that familiar draw, staring down at his knives. You fucking idiot! What the hell is this going to prove?

I don't have to prove anything. Bakura grabbed at a black plastic knife handle, staring down at his bare, scarred arms. I have no one to prove anything to. I just need...

You've turned into a masochist. Bakura slammed the kitchen drawer shut with snarl.

Since when was I not? Bakura smirked, walking back into the lounge. He just so wanted to spill his blood over the carpets, watch the soft creamy-coloured wool shrink away and stain at the onslaught of crimson...

You used to cut for blood and control, more than pain. Now it's like you have some disgusting fetish for making yourself hurt. You're sick.

What a genius. I'm a sick freak. Wow, I've never known that before! Bakura rolled his eyes as he drew the blade across his arm, arching his back and gritting his teeth. Fuck...

Hurts?

"That is the point yes," Bakura muttered aloud, snarling. He ran the blade across his arm again, almost parallel to the first cut, gasping. "Shit." He didn't give up, though, still slicing his arm open. A sick, animalistic desire came over him, raw and... lustful, almost. Bakura wanted more pain, more blood. He needed more. He cut himself again, growling. After doing it for so long, it... It just didn't hurt anymore. And there wasn't blood like there used to be. It was disappointing.

He'd run out. Bakura stared down at his other arm, which was just as scarred as the first. It was true. He was just tearing through already slashed skin, which was healing... It felt... stale. Like a heroin user who had run out of veins in his arms. FUCK! Bakura momentarily closed his eyes, his initial euphoria deflating in his chest. He remained still for a few moments, as his arm bled sluggishly, the pain dull, slowly subsiding. Well that's that then.

"Not true." Bakura muttered around, and his eyes snapped open. A smirk formed on his face as he stared down at his arm, his heartrate quickening. "Oh yeah..." He carefully stretched his arm out, a few splatters of blood dripping on the carpet, and held the knife over his head. He actually licked his lips in nerves, his heart thudding in his chest. "Okay." He inhaled deeply, drawing in a long, long breath, slightly arching his neck and closing his eyes as he brought the knife down into his arm, slamming it home with considerable force. For a moment, Bakura felt nothing. Then, it started to hurt.

"HOLY FUCK!" Bakura sank to his knees, eyes widening. "Oh God." He gasped, eyes wide. He stared down at his arm, where the knife had gone through to the other side, a tip of blood-coated metal. Weakly, the yami grabbed at the knife again, yanking it roughly out of his arm with a sickening sound. He hissed in fresh pain as the knife was pulled out of his arm, and dropped it to the floor. Bakura moaned softly, half-lidded eyes examining the knife wound. Blood gushed, out of the wound and over his arm, looking on the floor. Bakura smiled in satisfaction as he stared down at his arm, in too much pain to even move. It was so great. He closed his eyes, arching his neck slightly as he relished in the sensation of warm blood trickling from his arm, the horrible agony that spread from his forearm up his shoulder. He hadn't felt pain like that since... He hadn't felt pain like that in a long, long time...

Finally, Bakura felt like he could move. He slowly lifted his arm up, to eye level, staring in fascination as thick, warm blood still flowed steadily from his arm. After a few moments, he slowly brought the skin to his lips, his eyes half-lidded. Ohhh, that tasted so good. His own blood was never as sweet as... anyone else's (The name Ryou refused to pop in his head). He drank from his arm deeply, actually sliding his tongue inside the deep wound in an attempt to extract more blood. It just sent him wild, the deep, bizarre need to taste blood and feel pain.

Bring bring! Bakura jumped. The knife clattered to the floor, and he stared at the telephone, shaking. Slowly, he started to crawl across the carpet, reaching for the phone. He didn't trust his legs enough to walk, not at this point as the familiar sense of fatigue started to swamp him.

"What." His voice was hoarse, shaky as he snarled down the line, sinking to his rear on the carpet. He heard a gasp at the other end, soft and shocked.

"Uh... Hi." Bakura froze at the voice down the other end of the line. He clenched the phone tighter, fighting the urge to throw it into the wall. "It's me."

"I know it's you." Bakura growled, the anger evident in his voice. "What the fuck do you want, Malik?" The Egyptian was trembling down the other end, distraught at the tired, sick tone in Bakura's voice that he tried to cover up.

"I... I just wanted to call you." Malik murmured weakly. "Just to see how you were doing-"

"Oh, I'm doing great!" Bakura lost control and shouted down the phone. "Everything is fantastic, Malik! Couldn't you tell?"

"Bakura-"

"Of course I'm not okay!" Bakura screamed. "You fucked up my life, Malik!" The Egyptian bristled.

"I did not-"

"Yes you did!" Bakura shouted even louder, his heart thudding in his chest. "I lost Ryou because of you!" His heart started aching, twisting and churning in his chest. "This is all your fucking fault! This whole entire mess is your fucking fault!"

"What?" Malik was outraged. "This is not my fault, Bakura! How is it?"

"You pushed Ryou into sleeping with you!" Bakura had fully lost it- He was now shouting senselessly down the phone line. "If it weren't for you, Ryou would still be here!"

"Bakura-"

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me!" Bakura yelled, his hands shaking. "You have no idea what you did, Malik!" His tone was softer now, as his bout of anger drained him of his energy. "You fucked everything up." His voice, although harsh and venomous showed his obvious exhaustion.

"Bakura, I didn't!" Malik pleaded. "I just wanted to make Ryou happy. You were practically dead! He was so miserable... I didn't know what else to do."

"Do you decided to sleep with him and make him as guilty as hell?" Bakura snarled. "Fucking smart, Malik!" The anger that he had been harbouring towards Malik all spilled out in one burst. "Goddamn, do you have any idea what you've done to the both of us?"

"Bakura, stop this!" Malik was genuinely concerned at Bakura's tone. "God, you sound sick. What's wrong?"

"That's not your fucking business." Bakura muttered evenly, staring down at his arm. Blood dripped from the stab wound, down the inside of his forearm, and trickled to the floor from his fingertips. "Just piss off."

"No." Malik protested, worried. "I'm not..." He ran a hand through his hair. "Bakura, please, calm down about this..."

"Fuck off!" Bakura screamed hoarsely into the phone, swaying as his vision started to blur. His arm hurt worse than ever, he was shaking, and so tired... "Leave me alone, Malik." He spat, eyes only half open. "D-Don't talk to me..."

"Bakura!" Malik panicked. "Bakura, what did you do to yourself?" He started to hyperventilate. "Bakura please..." He gasped as the phone clunked, dropped to the floor. It had slipped from Bakura's long, shaking fingers, as he sank to the bloodstained carpet, barely conscious. "Bakura! Answer me!" Malik's voice, tiny and tinny, rang in Bakura's ears, but he barely noticed, slowly giving into the sweet haze of unconsciousness. Malik continued to scream down the phone, terrified.

"Bakura, please answer me!" Bakura didn't even know Malik was there as he lay slumped into the carpet, passed out.


Ryou had hit a new low.

Literally.

The teenager sniffed, his knees on the carpet and head in his hands, after trying to crawl out of bed, and getting tangled up in his sheets. Ryou rubbed at his eyes, sobbing weakly. He felt like he hadn't stopped crying in hours. He was so miserable and upset and depressed...

I've got no one to love, my father hates me more than ever, I have no house, and now School is just a total mess... The thought just kept running around in Ryou's head, in a continuous loop. He didn't know what to do with himself, kneeled on the floor with his head in his hands. He couldn't go back to bed and cry his eyes out, not again, despite the fact it was all he wanted to do.

Maybe I should try and eat something... Ryou sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. I haven't in days... But he just couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to eat anything. He just didn't have the energy. I probably can't even stand up... Ryou sighed to himself, before slowly lifting his head from his hands. He pressed his palms against the bedside table, slowly, shakily hoisting himself into a standing position. Surprisingly, Ryou's legs held, and he slowly started to walk out of the room, going where, he didn't know. He didn't really like Yugi's house. Sure, it was tidy, and organized, but it had this strange sense of... Family, and caring. Ryou wasn't used to it. His own house (Before things fell apart) practically smelled of romance and sex, to be frank. Malik often commented that he could cut the lust in any room of the house with a knife. Ryou was never exactly comfortable with the house he stayed in. The other four inhabitants were so comfortable and close with each other, it made Ryou jealous. Jealous of the family that he hadn't had in so long. And even more so, he was burning with resentment towards Yugi and Yami, and the bond they shared. Ryou felt as though they were mocking him, whenever he caught them being close. He knew he was being small and petty, but he just coveted having that relationship with Bakura so much!

But it's not going to happen! Ryou inwardly screamed. You're not having it ever again, you know that. The whitenette sniffed, his heart beginning to ache. He turned, quickly, finding the door to the bathroom beside him. Ryou almost fled inside the bathroom, slamming the door behind himself and leaning against the white painted wood, inhaling deep, short breaths. He tried not to cry, tried to hard not to break down, but he was failing. Ryou closed his eyes, tears trickling down his cheeks as he started to sob. The thought of not having Bakura any more made him not want to go on anymore. How often did he tell Bakura, whisper the words in his ear, that he was his life? That Ryou had no reason to live, apart from Bakura's love?

But it's not true. Ryou tried to increase his self-confidence, wiping at his eyes. I've been going fine without him.

Huh. Who am I kidding? I've been going awfully. I'm falling apart without him. He was my everything. When I was with Bakura, all those other things didn't matter... They were so insignificant... Now that he's gone, they matter so much... They matter too much. Ryou pressed his lips together as he walked over to the mirror, staring at himself. He looked a total mess, with tear tracks down his face and swollen, puffy eyes. I feel like a total mess. Everything's caving in on me... I'm going to collapse, I know it. Ryou sniffed again, his heart feeling like it was breaking, and his head starting to pound. No... not a migraine, not now. He shook his head, before wrenching the mirrored door to the bathroom cabinet open, looking for some kind of headache pill, knowing it was best to cure a migraine pill as quickly ass possible, nip it in the bud.

"No..." Ryou sighed, pushing back boxes and bottles and tubes of cream. "Nothing's here..." He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as his headache slowly began to increase. "Darn it..." He pushed aside an old tube of toothpaste, searching for perhaps that was lost in the back of the cupboard. Nothing...

The name 'Yugi Moto' caught his eye. Ryou blinked, and carefully picked up the small plastic pill bottle that bore his name. He raised it to his eye, frowning. Anti-depressants. His eyes widened at the date. Expired anti-depressants. Why would you have these here? They could probably kill you...

Ryou stared down at the bottle in his hands. Probably kill you. The words repeated in his mind, as he looked down at his hand. His head throbbed harder. Ryou slowly pushed the cabinet door closed, staring at himself in the mirror.

What have I got left? Nothing. Nothing at all. No one to love, no one to call family... What reason do I have to go on? Ryou had been pondering ending it all for quite a long time. Although it was against his beliefs, Ryou was seriously considering the option. It was his out, for lack of a better word. He just couldn't see any other way to stop the hurting.

Ryou leaned against the mirror, tears trickling down his face. The glass was cool on his aching forehead, but did nothing to calm his frazzled nerves. He clutched the little bottle of expired anti-depressants, trembling. There had to be another way... There had to be...

There wasn't. Ryou pressed his lips together, sobbing. There was nothing. No reason to stay here anymore. The teenager swallowed, and slowly straightened his back, staring at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't going to hurt this way, he tried to reason with himself. It would be just like going to sleep... Ryou turned away from the mirror, slowly, shakily making his way across the bathroom. His hands quivered on the doorknob as he pulled it open, stepping into the hallway. His head throbbed, his heart was pounding in his chest, and he was, to put it simply, terrified.

"Bakura?" The whitenette squeaked and jumped. Yami raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorway to the lounge. "What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing..." Ryou couldn't look the spirit in the eye. "I-I was just getting a drink of water..."

"I'll get it." Yami said warmly. "You go back to bed and rest, okay?"

"I'm not sick..." But the spirit was already walking into the kitchen, ignoring Ryou. The teenager sighed deeply, and sniffed, before making his way into his room. He passed the cordless phone in the hallway, and grabbed it on impulse, before lightly padding into the bedroom. He set the phone and pills on his bedside table, pulling back the blankets and sitting down on the mattress.

"Here you go." Yami entered the room without introduction, a glass of water in his hand. "Need anything else?" Ryou swallowed, still averting his gaze as he pulled the blankets over himself, leaning against the pillows.

"N-No, there isn't..." He finally murmured, swallowing deeply. "But, Yami..." He slowly raised his eyes a little, until he was focusing on the mans' shoulder. "I-I'm really grateful for Yugi and you, trying to help me like this..." Ryou bit his lip. "It's been really great." Yami was confused for a moment, before nodding, his face breaking into a smile.

"Hey, that's okay, Bakura." He shrugged. "Anything to help a friend, you know that." He silently left the room, closing the door behind him.

"But it wasn't enough." Ryou's voice broke, and he slumped against the pillows, sobbing. He turned over onto his side, staring at the bottle of pills through the blur of tears. "Nothing is..." There was really only one thing he had to do. Everything seemed so eerie to Ryou, as he slowly sat up, and reached for the phone. The decision to kill himself was not a light one at all, but once he had decided that was really the only option left, now he was left in irreparable misery, the teenager felt rather... Calm. Like he'd known it was what needed to be done all along, and just now he had realised it. Bit by bit, his life had fallen away, and now he was left with nothing at all. Ryou was past being sad because of it. He just felt... Empty.

The teenagers' fingers quivered as he slowly started to dial the number to his old house, the number he knew so well. He pressed the black receiver against his ear, crying as the dial tone rang in his ears. The phone remained unanswered, until finally, the machine clicked into action.

"Hi! It's Ryou here, Um, I'm not in, and neither is 'Kura, so just leave a message after the beep, and we'll get right back to you. Bye!" Ryou closed his eyes as his own childish, innocent voice rang in his ears. No one had changed the message since after Bakura had fallen into a coma. Did that really use to be me? It seems like a million years ago. Oh, what I would give to be that happy again... The receiver beeper, and Ryou swallowed, clearing his throat.

"U-Um... H-Hi Yami." He stammered, shaking. "I guess you're not home... I-I guess you're wondering why I'm calling." He sniffed. "I know I would. I just... I-I wanted to call and tell you that I love you. I love you so much, Bakura. Those few months we had together were the happiest I've had since.." Ryou swallowed. "W-Well, since Mum and Amane died." He hiccupped. "And I think about it all the time. It just... It kills me, knowing that I can't have you again, Bakura... Because, I-I love you so much." He wiped at his eyes, crying.

"I-I just wanted to say that, 'Kura. I just wanted you to know how I still felt. I'm not angry at you for doing this so me, Bakura. I-I'm not one bit. Because I know you. I know you so well. I know that you can't bring yourself to forgive me. And..." Ryou let out a choked sob. "I know I deserve this. I did a really horrible thing to you And I am so sorry. I would do anything... Anything at all, to hear you say you loved me, j-just one more time..." Ryou hold the phone away slightly as he collapsed into tears, holding his hand over his mouth, until he had regained his composure enough to talk again. "I-I'm sorry I hurt you, Bakura. And I'm sorry you can't forgive me. I-I'm just sorry that everything turned out this way. I'm not going to say it wasn't my fault, because it is." He sighed, a long, shuddering breath. "But I love you. I'll always love you. You'll be the last thing I ever think about on this earth, I'll make sure of it." Ryou closed his eyes. "So I guess... I guess this is goodbye. Forever. I-I love you." Ryou made sure he mumbled the words one last time, before lowering the receiver from his ear, clicking the hang up button. He threw the phone to the floor, before holding his face in his hands and crying and crying and crying. It was almost fifteen minutes before he was able to regain his composure, wiping and sitting up. He slowly reached over, and picked up the little pill bottle with shaking hands.

Fourteen pills. Ryou took them two at a time, making sure he had a big gulp of water after each pill, until both the glass, and the jar was empty. Ryou set them both on the bedside table, and sank into the pillows, closing his eyes. His head hurt worse than ever, but he didn't really worry about that anymore. Headaches seemed so trivial when death was just around the corner.

I didn't write a note. Ryou's eyes opened. Shoot. He sighed, closing his eyes again. But what would I say? Thanks Yugi, for not trying hard enough? I left that message for Bakura on the machine, and I said that stuff to Yami... That's enough, isn't it? He turned over onto his side, facing the window. It was raining, grey and cloudy outside. Ryou closed his eyes, he was starting to feel sleepy...

Oh God. Is this the best option? Ryou's eyes flew open. I know it's really really bad, but suicide...

I can't keep going on like this. I'm a burden for everyone, staying here. And I have nothing. Nothing nothing nothing nothing. It's better for everyone if I leave. And I'll be with Mum and Amane... I miss them so much...

The one thing tying keeping me here was Bakura. And after I lost him... And then Malik and then School... I can't keep living a life this horrible... They can't expect me to. I-It's the only way...

I suppose it is.

Ryou relaxed, closing his eyes. He felt oddly calm, lying there, listening to the rain against the window. It was oddly melodic and soothing.

I think you can hear me, Bakura. Although he had almost forgotten how, Ryou managed to open his side of the long-dormant mind-link. And I meant everything I said. I love you more than words can ever say. I'd die for you. And... That's what I'm doing, isn't it?

Ryou was definitely feeling sleepy. The teenager, beginning to grow hot, pushed back the blankets, kicked them so they were around his waist. His heartrate picked up, just a little, and he felt an odd trembling...

He was being poisoned, he realised as he relaxed against the pillow, almost asleep. Oh well. At least it wasn't going to hurt... Ryou sighed, deeply, as he felt the last tense muscles in his body relax. Am I supposed to say goodbye, or something? That's kinda cheesy...I'll be okay. Ryou settled for just allowing his mind to empty as he slowly drifted off to sleep, mildly comfortable with the situation. He just wanted to stop hurting so much.

And within a minute, Ryou was asleep, in a gradually deepening sleep that would inevitably progress into a coma, before finally, the supposedly sweet embrace of death.


Why do I feel like I'm going to be shot? -looks for bulletproof vest- Ack.

R&R!