Disclaimer: The usual. I own nothing.
Author's note: Sorry this chapter took so long.
School.eeeeeeevil.Computers.eeeeevil. Anyway, I don't think this is the
last chapter. I will probably write one more.
The doorknob turned slowly and Ryou walked into the house. "Hi, Yami," said Ryou, somewhat puzzled. It was really unusual for Yami Bakura to be home at this time. He was usually off somewhere or another. "Oh, um, uh, hi, Ryou," Bakura mumbled, walking into the other room almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He really hoped that Ryou wouldn't notice how strange he was acting. As he hurried away, he barely noticed a dull clink of metal as the bloody knife fell from his pocket to the floor. Bakura swore under his breath, then spun around and reached for the knife. But the knife wasn't there. He looked up into the sad eyes of his hikari, and then to the gleaming knife in his hikari's hand. Bakura stared at the floor, trying to think of an excuse, any excuse. Ryou didn't say anything. He gently pushed back the sleeve of his yami's shirt, revealing the marks from the blade. Ryou didn't look at all surprised. Suddenly Bakura realized something.
He's known all along.
Bakura's eyes met his hikari's and searched them. He saw the sympathy in them, but also something else that he couldn't quite identify. There was definitely something else in those eyes. Bakura thought for a fleeting second that it might be love, but then realized that it was probably just his own wishful thinking. Ryou interrupted his yami's thoughts as he began to clean the blood off of Bakura's arm. Ryou touched his yami's hand in a way that could have almost been accidental. "Yami, I want you to promise me never to do that again," said Ryou quietly. Bakura found himself at a loss for words. "Yami, please." Yami Bakura looked at Ryou and smiled. No words needed to be spoken. Bakura pulled his little hikari into his arms. He felt Ryou tense at first, but then relax and move in closer. And Bakura knew that it was not just his own wishful thinking.
The doorknob turned slowly and Ryou walked into the house. "Hi, Yami," said Ryou, somewhat puzzled. It was really unusual for Yami Bakura to be home at this time. He was usually off somewhere or another. "Oh, um, uh, hi, Ryou," Bakura mumbled, walking into the other room almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He really hoped that Ryou wouldn't notice how strange he was acting. As he hurried away, he barely noticed a dull clink of metal as the bloody knife fell from his pocket to the floor. Bakura swore under his breath, then spun around and reached for the knife. But the knife wasn't there. He looked up into the sad eyes of his hikari, and then to the gleaming knife in his hikari's hand. Bakura stared at the floor, trying to think of an excuse, any excuse. Ryou didn't say anything. He gently pushed back the sleeve of his yami's shirt, revealing the marks from the blade. Ryou didn't look at all surprised. Suddenly Bakura realized something.
He's known all along.
Bakura's eyes met his hikari's and searched them. He saw the sympathy in them, but also something else that he couldn't quite identify. There was definitely something else in those eyes. Bakura thought for a fleeting second that it might be love, but then realized that it was probably just his own wishful thinking. Ryou interrupted his yami's thoughts as he began to clean the blood off of Bakura's arm. Ryou touched his yami's hand in a way that could have almost been accidental. "Yami, I want you to promise me never to do that again," said Ryou quietly. Bakura found himself at a loss for words. "Yami, please." Yami Bakura looked at Ryou and smiled. No words needed to be spoken. Bakura pulled his little hikari into his arms. He felt Ryou tense at first, but then relax and move in closer. And Bakura knew that it was not just his own wishful thinking.
