To anyone who is now falling for Goo Goo Dolls music, YAY!!! Trust me the CD is worth it, if you get spare change it's a good investment. For anyone who's wondering my fav songs on Gutterflower go in this order: Big Machine (yeah The Hatter, I love it too : ), Truth is a Whisper, Here is gone, Sympathy, What a scene and It's Over. Anyway: Yay a new chap!! We get to find out what Malik gave Bakura!
Bakura: Really? Is it cool?
LYB: Yes…
Bakura: Will it make me happy?
LYB: I hope so.
Bakura: ^_^ !
Cyris: The disclaimers are in the first chapter. Go back if you want them.
****************************************************************************
Up, Up, Up
****************************************************************************
The Bakura entered the dark house and closed the door behind him, making his way up to the bedroom. The home was quiet without Ryou there, deathly quiet. Before there had always been the sound of Ryou hmming to himself as he cooked something in the kitchen or the unchained melody of a guitar. But now, now it was silent. Bakura shut the door to the bedroom, shutting himself in then sat on the bed. His sigh seemed to echo through the silent room. He felt slightly guilty, a relatively new feeling for him but after being stuck with it for two weeks he was getting a bit used to it; maybe he had been to harsh of Ryou. Calling the boy a hypocrite and self-destructive. But then again, Ryou needed to hear it, hopefully he wouldn't take it the wrong way.
Bakura sighed again and reached behind him, pulling out the box Malik had given him. He ran his fingers over the polished silken wood before curiosity got the best of him and he flipped the small latch. He opened the small, thin box, the tiny hinges making a slight creak and he mad a small noise somewhere between utter surprise and delight. The box was really an ink kit, ochre ink like the kind they had use in Egypt. There were two larger bottles of black ink and four smaller containers for red, yellow, green and blue. The box itself was a could be used as a tray for pouring the inks. He loving moved his fingers of the dainty, elegant brushes and calligraphy pen. The kit had been used before, that was clear judging by the varying ink levels, but the bottles, tray, and brushes had been carefully cleaned and cared for, Malik had love these inks. Did he say Isis had gotten it for him? Bakura felt a burn in his eyes again, how could Malik give him such a gift?
Bakura picked up the pen and ran it's tip over the back of his hand to test it's quality, yes, it was like the ones he used in Egypt. He remembered breaking into freshly made tombs and how they smelled of the fresh ink. He would light all the lamps left behind and admire the art, reading the beautiful poetry full of such wonderful thoughts and expressions. He had wanted to be the one who wrote those sweet words, wanted to be a scribe so he could paint the gods and goddess upon the walls. On the rare occasion he was lucky enough to find and ink set left in a tomb he would paint and write on the floors and blank walls. He had been good at it. One day Ryou had casually turned on the history channel and he saw one of his wall murals, some strange man was speculating on what it meant, saving it was an exceptional piece about the tomb owners life. Of course he was totally wrong, unless the person buried there had been a tomb robber, because he wrote all his lyrics about his own life. If he could have gotten the money he would have brought his own ink set and raised his social status to become a writer and painter. To bad all the tomb robbing he did, didn't seen to get him any closer to that wish. He had forgotten that dream after awhile and turned his attention to the shadow games instead. But now, now someone had put the ink into his hands again. The thrill scared him, he hadn't touched the inks in 5000 and some years, he didn't even know if he still had the skill. Malik had obviously cared for the set, why would he give it any to someone who may never touch it or even appreciate it? Bakura plucked a small piece of paper from the corner of the box and unfolded it.
To the egocentric tomb-robbing change of heart guy,
(a.k.a. my most beloved friend Bakura),
After I lost my yami, I wasn't sure what I felt, I was free, but it didn't feel like I was whole added on top of that was dealing with my fathers true death. Then Isis gave me this, she pressed the pen into my hand and put a sheet of parchment in front of me and told me to write. So I did, just ideally scratching random things, but the more I wrote, the more easily it came. In a little while I had turned out pages up on pages of words and thoughts that had come right out of my soul, by passing my logic completely. There was a surprising comfort in that, understanding what I felt, letting it all come out. I didn't have to tell anyone, I only had to tell the paper. I remembers what you said, about seeing your painting on TV, since this whole thing with Ryou started I've been thinking that maybe this will do you more good. Since you can seem to figure out what you feel. It helped me get my head straight, maybe it will help you too.
Your friend (And occasional enemy anti-hero), Malik Ishtar
Bakura couldn't help but laugh, Malik had an odd sense of humour. He was moved to, this was probably one of the greatest things anyone had ever done for him, but what was he going to do with it? He wondered if he still had his talent for writing.
He put the set down for a moment, he would need something to write on. He dug threw a few drawers and found nothing, so moved on to the closet. He had just about given up when he found a few larger sheets of plain bristol board shoved far in the back and pulled them out. He looked around for somewhere to put his find, but the desk was so small and sitting on the floor would be awkward. Then a sly smile crept across his lips as an idea can to him. He tacked the sheet upon the wall, making one large, blank panel. Now the hard part.
Bakura picked up the tray and poured the black ink into it. With the tender care of an artist he dipped the pen into the colour and pressed it to the white material. What you write? He just let his hand move like he had before in Egypt. That was the trick, he thought, adding a small bit of red, don't think about what your writing, think about what your feeling.
It felt so strange to be letting emotions he had shut up for so long to bypass all logic thought and flow from his fingers. Don't think about what your writing, just write. Bakura raised the pen and read what his heart had to say. His mind started to wander, the worry set in on him again. What if Ryou didn't listen? What if he kept going on this path, would he go back to being suicidal? Bakura shuddered and read over what he had written.
*Are you listening' now?
Are you feelin' that way?
Are you terrified?
Of wakin' up too tired to try again?*
Bakura nodded slowly and thought a minute before dipping the pen and pressing it to the wall again. What did he think when he thought about Ryou? Are you happy now you little fool, that you've isolated yourself from the world just because of me? That sounded about right. But there was more to it then that, he hadn't really meant to hurt Ryou at all, just help him maybe someday Ryou would understand the things that he said.
*Are you happy now
That you've shut yourself down?
Are you paralysed
By all the nonsense that's gone down?
I know you're gonna see these things some day.*
Bakura read his most resent verse and raised his brow in slight surprise. Malik was right, he did sound arrogant. Bakura shrugged, and frowned slightly, biting his lip. He felt lonely all of a sudden, why did that stupid blonde baka always have to be right. It was his arrogance that had gotten him into this. The arrogance that forbid him to let the boy into his life, now the hikari was a mystery to him. Instead, he had ended up driving the boy into depression, maybe that was why Ryou looked so distance when Bakura would come home late. Sure he knew a lot about Ryou, everything except for this strange romance worked and what he thought of it. They both had freedom, they both were now given a dream to chase, the singer and the writer; but at the same time, neither of them were happy, as if the sun had set on what was once a beautiful day. Another praise appeared in Bakura'a head so he scrawled it down quickly before he could second guess it.
*Sorry-eyed we spent so much of your time
Now I'm tryin' to put your riddle to rhyme.
Now it's up up up I'm headin' for this evenin'
And it's up up up, I'm headed for the clouds...*
Just as quickly another thought came into his head and he hastily dipped the pen and started to scribble again.
*…Comin' down,
It ain't the worst part
It only takes a second
To make a change that's gonna last
I hope you're gonna see these things some day
So don't stop lookin' for that light along the way*
Bakura looked at his work and nodded approval. He couldn't just stand here and do nothing, not while his hikari suffered. He read his words again, okay maybe he had been wrong to be so harsh on Ryou earlier, maybe he had been to harsh all along. He sighed, the pen didn't lie. Was it to late to take back that change? The band would be playing tonight, Ryou was sure to be there. He just hoped Ryou wouldn't be to upset about the day's earlier events and would talk to him. Bakura decided not to let this go, it wasn't over till it was over. If Ryou said they were threw, then it would have to be, but until he heard the word from Ryou's lips there was still hope for his little hikari. Bakura felt a smile on his lips, a sad smile, but at least it was a smile. He put the pen on the paper again and wrote the last verse. Then cleaned the pen carefully and laid down the set. He pulled on his jacket and quickly checked himself in the mirror before heading to the door. He put his hand on the bedroom door knob and looked at the paper on the wall. The worlds were missing something. He looked at them for a moment and smiled, grabbing a brush coated in red ink and wrote "Up, Up, Up" just above them. That was better, he headed for the door taking a quick glance at the last verse he wrote on the way…
*Sorry-eyed we spent so much of your time
Now I'm tryin' to put your riddle to a rhyme
Now it's up up up and headin' for this evenin'
And it's up up up, I'm headed for you now…*
******************************************************************
Bakura: That was short and sweet.
LYB: The next chapter will be long and extreme angst… and Ryou your in it.
Ryou: I am?
Bakura: Why is it angst?
LYB: The title of the song is "It's Over" does that give you a hint?
Ryou & Bakura: Ohhhh….
Cyris: What does the future hold for these 2, read and review so we can find out!
Bakura: Really? Is it cool?
LYB: Yes…
Bakura: Will it make me happy?
LYB: I hope so.
Bakura: ^_^ !
Cyris: The disclaimers are in the first chapter. Go back if you want them.
****************************************************************************
Up, Up, Up
****************************************************************************
The Bakura entered the dark house and closed the door behind him, making his way up to the bedroom. The home was quiet without Ryou there, deathly quiet. Before there had always been the sound of Ryou hmming to himself as he cooked something in the kitchen or the unchained melody of a guitar. But now, now it was silent. Bakura shut the door to the bedroom, shutting himself in then sat on the bed. His sigh seemed to echo through the silent room. He felt slightly guilty, a relatively new feeling for him but after being stuck with it for two weeks he was getting a bit used to it; maybe he had been to harsh of Ryou. Calling the boy a hypocrite and self-destructive. But then again, Ryou needed to hear it, hopefully he wouldn't take it the wrong way.
Bakura sighed again and reached behind him, pulling out the box Malik had given him. He ran his fingers over the polished silken wood before curiosity got the best of him and he flipped the small latch. He opened the small, thin box, the tiny hinges making a slight creak and he mad a small noise somewhere between utter surprise and delight. The box was really an ink kit, ochre ink like the kind they had use in Egypt. There were two larger bottles of black ink and four smaller containers for red, yellow, green and blue. The box itself was a could be used as a tray for pouring the inks. He loving moved his fingers of the dainty, elegant brushes and calligraphy pen. The kit had been used before, that was clear judging by the varying ink levels, but the bottles, tray, and brushes had been carefully cleaned and cared for, Malik had love these inks. Did he say Isis had gotten it for him? Bakura felt a burn in his eyes again, how could Malik give him such a gift?
Bakura picked up the pen and ran it's tip over the back of his hand to test it's quality, yes, it was like the ones he used in Egypt. He remembered breaking into freshly made tombs and how they smelled of the fresh ink. He would light all the lamps left behind and admire the art, reading the beautiful poetry full of such wonderful thoughts and expressions. He had wanted to be the one who wrote those sweet words, wanted to be a scribe so he could paint the gods and goddess upon the walls. On the rare occasion he was lucky enough to find and ink set left in a tomb he would paint and write on the floors and blank walls. He had been good at it. One day Ryou had casually turned on the history channel and he saw one of his wall murals, some strange man was speculating on what it meant, saving it was an exceptional piece about the tomb owners life. Of course he was totally wrong, unless the person buried there had been a tomb robber, because he wrote all his lyrics about his own life. If he could have gotten the money he would have brought his own ink set and raised his social status to become a writer and painter. To bad all the tomb robbing he did, didn't seen to get him any closer to that wish. He had forgotten that dream after awhile and turned his attention to the shadow games instead. But now, now someone had put the ink into his hands again. The thrill scared him, he hadn't touched the inks in 5000 and some years, he didn't even know if he still had the skill. Malik had obviously cared for the set, why would he give it any to someone who may never touch it or even appreciate it? Bakura plucked a small piece of paper from the corner of the box and unfolded it.
To the egocentric tomb-robbing change of heart guy,
(a.k.a. my most beloved friend Bakura),
After I lost my yami, I wasn't sure what I felt, I was free, but it didn't feel like I was whole added on top of that was dealing with my fathers true death. Then Isis gave me this, she pressed the pen into my hand and put a sheet of parchment in front of me and told me to write. So I did, just ideally scratching random things, but the more I wrote, the more easily it came. In a little while I had turned out pages up on pages of words and thoughts that had come right out of my soul, by passing my logic completely. There was a surprising comfort in that, understanding what I felt, letting it all come out. I didn't have to tell anyone, I only had to tell the paper. I remembers what you said, about seeing your painting on TV, since this whole thing with Ryou started I've been thinking that maybe this will do you more good. Since you can seem to figure out what you feel. It helped me get my head straight, maybe it will help you too.
Your friend (And occasional enemy anti-hero), Malik Ishtar
Bakura couldn't help but laugh, Malik had an odd sense of humour. He was moved to, this was probably one of the greatest things anyone had ever done for him, but what was he going to do with it? He wondered if he still had his talent for writing.
He put the set down for a moment, he would need something to write on. He dug threw a few drawers and found nothing, so moved on to the closet. He had just about given up when he found a few larger sheets of plain bristol board shoved far in the back and pulled them out. He looked around for somewhere to put his find, but the desk was so small and sitting on the floor would be awkward. Then a sly smile crept across his lips as an idea can to him. He tacked the sheet upon the wall, making one large, blank panel. Now the hard part.
Bakura picked up the tray and poured the black ink into it. With the tender care of an artist he dipped the pen into the colour and pressed it to the white material. What you write? He just let his hand move like he had before in Egypt. That was the trick, he thought, adding a small bit of red, don't think about what your writing, think about what your feeling.
It felt so strange to be letting emotions he had shut up for so long to bypass all logic thought and flow from his fingers. Don't think about what your writing, just write. Bakura raised the pen and read what his heart had to say. His mind started to wander, the worry set in on him again. What if Ryou didn't listen? What if he kept going on this path, would he go back to being suicidal? Bakura shuddered and read over what he had written.
*Are you listening' now?
Are you feelin' that way?
Are you terrified?
Of wakin' up too tired to try again?*
Bakura nodded slowly and thought a minute before dipping the pen and pressing it to the wall again. What did he think when he thought about Ryou? Are you happy now you little fool, that you've isolated yourself from the world just because of me? That sounded about right. But there was more to it then that, he hadn't really meant to hurt Ryou at all, just help him maybe someday Ryou would understand the things that he said.
*Are you happy now
That you've shut yourself down?
Are you paralysed
By all the nonsense that's gone down?
I know you're gonna see these things some day.*
Bakura read his most resent verse and raised his brow in slight surprise. Malik was right, he did sound arrogant. Bakura shrugged, and frowned slightly, biting his lip. He felt lonely all of a sudden, why did that stupid blonde baka always have to be right. It was his arrogance that had gotten him into this. The arrogance that forbid him to let the boy into his life, now the hikari was a mystery to him. Instead, he had ended up driving the boy into depression, maybe that was why Ryou looked so distance when Bakura would come home late. Sure he knew a lot about Ryou, everything except for this strange romance worked and what he thought of it. They both had freedom, they both were now given a dream to chase, the singer and the writer; but at the same time, neither of them were happy, as if the sun had set on what was once a beautiful day. Another praise appeared in Bakura'a head so he scrawled it down quickly before he could second guess it.
*Sorry-eyed we spent so much of your time
Now I'm tryin' to put your riddle to rhyme.
Now it's up up up I'm headin' for this evenin'
And it's up up up, I'm headed for the clouds...*
Just as quickly another thought came into his head and he hastily dipped the pen and started to scribble again.
*…Comin' down,
It ain't the worst part
It only takes a second
To make a change that's gonna last
I hope you're gonna see these things some day
So don't stop lookin' for that light along the way*
Bakura looked at his work and nodded approval. He couldn't just stand here and do nothing, not while his hikari suffered. He read his words again, okay maybe he had been wrong to be so harsh on Ryou earlier, maybe he had been to harsh all along. He sighed, the pen didn't lie. Was it to late to take back that change? The band would be playing tonight, Ryou was sure to be there. He just hoped Ryou wouldn't be to upset about the day's earlier events and would talk to him. Bakura decided not to let this go, it wasn't over till it was over. If Ryou said they were threw, then it would have to be, but until he heard the word from Ryou's lips there was still hope for his little hikari. Bakura felt a smile on his lips, a sad smile, but at least it was a smile. He put the pen on the paper again and wrote the last verse. Then cleaned the pen carefully and laid down the set. He pulled on his jacket and quickly checked himself in the mirror before heading to the door. He put his hand on the bedroom door knob and looked at the paper on the wall. The worlds were missing something. He looked at them for a moment and smiled, grabbing a brush coated in red ink and wrote "Up, Up, Up" just above them. That was better, he headed for the door taking a quick glance at the last verse he wrote on the way…
*Sorry-eyed we spent so much of your time
Now I'm tryin' to put your riddle to a rhyme
Now it's up up up and headin' for this evenin'
And it's up up up, I'm headed for you now…*
******************************************************************
Bakura: That was short and sweet.
LYB: The next chapter will be long and extreme angst… and Ryou your in it.
Ryou: I am?
Bakura: Why is it angst?
LYB: The title of the song is "It's Over" does that give you a hint?
Ryou & Bakura: Ohhhh….
Cyris: What does the future hold for these 2, read and review so we can find out!