Sympathy For The Devil

By: Neko-chan

A/N: Just something I came up with while I was at the chiropractor. (NEVER EVER hurt your back! CHIROPRACTORS ARE EVIL! EVIL, I SAY!) I know that I should be updating "Youth of the Nation," but chapter twelve will be the longest chapter to date. Therefore, it's taking longer that I had anticipated. WILL be updated within the next couple of days, though. Until then...enjoy this! Dedicated to all my favorite yaoi/shounen-ai authors. (You know who you are. ^_~) You guys kick BUTT.

WARNING: SHOUNEN-AI!! No Yami/Yuugi in this fic, though. All 'bout Bakura and Ryou. *runs away from all the happy fangirls out there* Eeep! It's just a story! A _story_!!!

DISCLAIMER: Neko-chan no own. If Neko-chan owned Yu-Gi-Oh!, she would be a very rich cat-girl indeed. Is Neko-chan rich? Does Neko-chan own Yu-Gi-Oh!? *snorts* Only in her dreams of glory-clouded mind.



When our Literature class was told that we would have to write a story (or a letter, if we're more comfortable with that) and dedicate it to the person we loved most, our worst nightmares were realized. But no one was as horrified as I. After all, the one person that I loved above all would most definitely toss my letter out the window and then beat me for my 'insolence.' But how can I possibly lie and write a letter to someone else? How can I possibly lie and tell the teacher that I had done her assignment...when I most definitely _hadn't_?

Despite all the bad things that have ever happened to me, I have never lied.

And so here I am, sitting in a wooden chair (my bottom is already going numb), staring at a piece of paper. A piece of paper that I've been staring at for the past two hours, trying to think of what to write. No wonder my posterior is going numb. _I'm_ going numb. I've never done anything like this--ever. What to write and what to say? I just...don't...know.

But I still have to get this over with and I might as well start now. Nibbling my bottom lip in thought, I reach for my pen and scribble my name carefully across the top right hand corner. Well, that was easy so far. Hopefully, it wouldn't get any harder. And yet... I still need a title. But what? I'm still chewing on my bottom lip. I'm surprised I haven't eaten it whole yet. I still need a title... What would suit this letter, though? Ah. I know.

'A Letter From A Hikari To His Yami'

It sounds so terribly cliched...but it will suit this letter, I think. Hopefully it will. Oh, Kami, PLEASE let it suit this letter. I pause for a moment, and then decide to forge on. I have to--there is no other choice. I'm committed now. Nothing will stop me. I don't even think my yami would be able to stop me now that I've made up my mind. Just... Kami, oh Kami...

"You won't be expecting this letter, Bakura. In fact, I don't think you ever _will_ expect this letter, nor have you _ever_ expected this letter. ...nothing in your past, present, or future could ever possibly have prepared you for a letter like this... At least, not from me. By now, your eyes have probably narrowed in annoyance and you're wondering if you should throw this in the wastebasket or not. But now my last sentence has you intrigued. You're wondering how I was able to predict your reaction. You're wondering if I'm reading your thoughts at this very minute. 'How is he doing this?' you're wondering to yourself. Well, I will tell you.

We have known each other for a very long time now, Bakura. Longer than you would have expected, huh? At this point of time, it feels as if we've known each other for what seems like forever. For us, it IS forever, isn't it? I watch you, I know you--I know each and every reaction that you will make. I now know how to fluently curse in Egyptian. I know aspects of myself that I never knew existed. And how do I know all of these things? Because of you. It's all because of you. You've changed me somehow, Bakura. Sometimes I think that it's a good thing. Other times, usually when I'm thinking of my past late at night, I begin to question whether it really IS such a good thing.

But then the sun rises in the morning and all my doubts seem to burn away in the bright light.

I've come to know you, Bakura. Every little thing about you. I know that when you have a headache your brow wrinkles in pain, though you won't ever admit that you're hurting. Haven't you ever noticed that whenever you have a headache, there's always aspirin waiting for you on your bedside table? I know that you DO notice--but you don't ever comment.

I know that you simply adore spicy food. It reminds you of home and what you've missed as the last five thousand years slowly passed you on by. It brings up memories--good ones and bad ones--though you would prefer to remember the good ones. And, more often than not, you do remember the good ones.

It's when you're hitting me that the bad memories come to you. You remember each and every blow that was given to you and you give them to me. I don't exactly know why you do it. It's one of the few things that I _don't_ understand about you. I wish I did, though.

Do you hit me because you hope that with each blow you're giving me your memories so they won't burden you any longer? If that's the reason why, then I will gladly carry them for you. Do you hit me because I'm weak? I know that I am--but I've been trying to become stronger for you. Do you hit me because you have no one else to vent upon? I will always be here for you--whether it's for venting or for beating. I'm here for you, Bakura.

...or do you hit me because you have no other way for expressing strong emotion?

If this is so, I cannot fault you for it. I know that you've had a hard life. I know of some of the things that you've had to go through--I get snippets of memory from you occasionally. I know that you were hurt deeply by someone you loved. But I am here for you, Bakura. I am here. I don't mind the punches and kicks anymore; I can just as easily hide them from everyone else around me. They fade with time.

However... Your hurts and wounds are on the inside and they _don't_ fade with time. In fact, sometimes they must make you even more bitter. But I understand and I so I do not judge you. I could never judge you, Bakura. How could I?

There's also something else that I've been wanting to tell you for a very long time. I've kept this a secret. No one knows...except for you now. I know that you will despise me for this secret and you'll think that I am as weak as ever. But this is the one time that I'm going to tell you that you're wrong: This secret doesn't make me weak. In the end, it will only make me stronger. Do you want to know the secret, Bakura? I know that you do; you don't want to admit to it, but you're curious. Your old Tomb Robber self is peeking through right about...now. See how well I know you, yami?

And I will tell you my secret. It's a very strange one, a secret that I do not completely understand myself. But that does not change the fact that it's true. So very, very true. Amazing, isn't it? Amazing because, no matter how much I want to change the fact, that...

I love you, Bakura.

You'll beat me for this secret. I know you will. But it will not change the fact. It will _never_ change the fact that I love you, Bakura. How does it feel to be loved? Alien, I know. Strange. But, even if it's just a little bit...doesn't it feel exhilarating? Don't lie to me, yami. You could never completely lie to me, just as I could never lie to you. We know each other too well.

This is my letter to you. I know that it's not very long, but everything that I talk about in it is true. Every single thing that I mention to you. Every detail...and every confession. In the beginning, I hated this assignment. But now...though I know that I'll be getting a beating from you because of this letter, I'm still glad that I had to write it. After all, even the most private of people tire of being Secret-Keepers for long. And so I close this letter with a...

Aishiteru, Bakura. Aishiteru."

I blink and I rub my eyes. Quickly glancing at my clock, I see that several hours has passed while I was completely focused on writing my letter. But it was finally done now--and besides, I wasn't hungry enough to eat supper, anyway. The letter was finished.

Those words seem to loom ominously in my mind. But no turning back now. No, no turning back now. I quickly fold the letter in half and stand up, my knees creaking slightly from going so long without being used. Other than that, I make no sound. Slowly I open my door and peek outside--no one is around. Cat-quiet, I make my way down the hallway...and leave the letter for Bakura to find on his pillow. After all, how could he possibly miss it _there_??

Later on that night, I was half-terrified and half-resigned when Bakura came barging into my room, slamming the door against the wall. But I wasn't surprised. Oh, no; I wasn't surprised. I had known full well how Bakura would react when he finally found and read my letter. No, no surprises from my yami.

Ah, but that's a lie, you see.

After he came barging into my room, he stomped over to my bed, and grabbed my pajama top's collar. I closed my eyes, expecting his fist to connect with my face. There was nothing in heaven or hell that could have prepared me for Bakura's lips to crush against my own in a brutal kiss--dominating and possessive, everything that I knew Bakura was. And then just as suddenly, he left, leaving me blinking and clutching a letter in my hand. _He had written back!_

Slowly, ever so slowly, I opened the letter. And, for the second time that night, I blinked. There was only one line scrawled across the page in Bakura's messy handwriting. A person who didn't understand him would have thought that the line was cold and unfeeling. But, those who DID understand him... I smiled happily to myself.

"You're mine. You're mine--always and forever."