This is proof that I'm not abandoning this fiction as well as the result of a big creative burst. Exams do that to me. I have 6 hours of it today, and this isn't including the standing around, getting called in, handing out and collecting in the papers. No, 6 hours of writing essays, meaning that it wasn't a case of 'answer the questions and then sit around twiddling your thumbs'. My wrist is killing me and I have 2 and a half hours of it again tomorrow. Watch my mind rebel.
This is for Shadowspirit who prompted me very helpfully in a review for 'Birthday Suit'. Thanks for the push. Reviews will help Chapter 5 by the way. This is definitely my strangest fic to date in that it's run off and done it's own thing. This plot is completely different to the one that I'd originally imagined but I think that's made it more interesting, especially this chapter; I've never written Bakura like this before. Oppression by examining bodies and listening to every MeatLoaf album I own continuously in order of release will do that to you I suppose.
Hope you enjoy this.
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Despite talking to Yami and getting this little situation of his in the light, I actually slept worse last night than before. It wasn't the screams again; it was suspiciously quiet actually, but it may have been that just getting him aware of them was enough to make them go quiet. No, I couldn't sleep until general boredom took over because I just couldn't stop thinking. To make it even more unusual, the subject of my musing was none other than the Pharaoh himself.
Recently he's been something of an obsession because I just couldn't figure out how to shut the screeching up, so I naturally thought about him, what he's like, his current situation, seeking for the crack that was making this noisy part less than happy. I picked apart his character, inside and out, and I didn't really give it a second thought when I'd done what I'd planned to and told him. It was only in the dark when it was quiet that I began to realize that after I'd picked him apart, I quite liked what I saw.
I'll admit to lusting after him in the past. Who wouldn't? His clothes are a second skin and he has such an intensity about him that it's almost suffocating. Adding to that the fact that you'd have to be blind or senile not to see how attractive he is physically… I don't know when this little seed got planted, but it's sprouted now and I'm not sure what I think of it. There's not a lot I can do about it except to see where it goes, not that that's going to be very far because he loathes me. That… bothers me more than it used to.
Exercise of any description helps to clear up my head and organize my thoughts into something coherent. Today I've chosen walking, something that I can do relatively mindlessly and not get into any trouble. That's unless I wander near one of those secret compounds again. That was a strange experience…
I'm in what's been publicly labelled the bad part of Domino. Not that I give a flying fuck; I'm the one who helped that title along. If I'd been in charge of assigning titles it would be called something far more appropriate too, something creative with a bit of a catchy spin on it. 'Screwed Ville', '.44 Land', 'SunnyHell'… By the sounds of that last one I apparently watch too much television.
Leaving somewhere around noon after getting fed up with staring at the ceiling, I've been tottering around Domino for around five hours now. I'm getting bored again now so I've started to figure out the most elaborate route back to the house, something involving walls, fences and maybe a small river if I can stretch it that far. South seems to be the going idea now, so I set off down what I've affectionately dubbed Graffiti Lane, a long winding path/land-tip between several of the older warehouses that squatters now inhabit. It's long, moderately interesting and dark. Just the way I like it.
I knew that something was up the second I entered this particular alley, the one that opens up after the third turning. Just a sense, a little niggle at my survival instincts that told me to be on my guard. It could have been more specific; it sure as Hell would have helped if I'd partly expected the lead pipe going to the back of my neck.
I haven't been mugged in just under a year now, well, I say 'mugged' but what I mean is no-one's tried to jump me and had their brains pasted because of it. Well goodie. I could use a bit of a workout. Spinning on my heel and ignoring the fact that my head is buzzing a little from the initial blow, I smirk cockily at the poor bastard with a death wish. Okay, several poor bastards with death wishes. And pipes. Oh, and that one has a gun. Well, that won't technically kill me but it'll damn well hurt, and if he aims right I'll be out for a while. Great. It took me ages to find Ryou's wallet last time; he's taken to hiding it and then blocking off his knowledge of the location from me. That's fairly impressive so I didn't give him too much grief about it. Normal amount actually.
Anyway, back to the thugs with pipes.
I could probably get a few of them down before I really got hurt. Heck, if my head wasn't doing weird things I'd use the Ring to send them so far into the Shadow Realm that the Reaper of Cards wouldn't be able to find them. I guess my Item could only put off that blow so much. Oh well. Bit of grunt-work was always fun.
I think they see the challenge in my eyes because the three at the front all come at me at the same time without even looking at each other. Cowards. Won't face a teenager on their own. I suppose stories could've gotten around; I always cause something of a spectacle and word runs fast in the underground.
The pipes are gone fairly quickly with a few well-placed kicks and punches, and the one with the gun doesn't appear to have the balls to actually use it. Should've given it to one of his pals here; they don't seem to have much of a problem with going for my throat. I didn't sleep enough last night and I'm outnumbered, even for me, so I'm tiring pretty quickly. I'm shamed to admit it but I'm severely tempted to run, not that I'd dare. It's far easier to shoot someone in the back than in their face and I think he's got enough balls for that.
They've just gotten in close enough to me that I'm starting to taste my own blood when there's a shout from the back of the mess that's in front of me. I hear the gun go off in no particular direction, including mine, and then a few strangled screams before it gets a bit quieter. Whatever's happened has got the attention of the three - no, four guys on me. Looking behind them yet still obstructing my vision, they obviously don't like what they see because they make a run for it. They hadn't gotten me down with their pipes and fists, but them barrelling into me now sends me to my knees instantly.
Curious myself now, I look up to where the screams had come from. Ah, Yami. I didn't quite expect that, but I wouldn't really have put it past him either. We're of the same nature deep down. I've killed too and I remembering him doing it in the past with the wave of a hand. He never got bloodied; that was his executioner's job. No wonder he looks a tad pale at the state of his hands and clothes now. There's a crimson streak down his face too and his hair's a mess, a wild and exotic look that I quite like on him. That blood's coming from his nose though. That's his own then.
Ignoring the mess on the floor and walls, I make my way over to him, the back of my hand going to my mouth to check on the bleeding in my lip. It's starting to swell a bit now and I can still taste fresh blood leaking out from where it's split over my teeth, meaning that I'm going to have a bit of a pout for the next few days. Marvellous.
"What's up with you?" I ask after I've felt that I've given him an adequate amount of time to start on his own. He just went completely psycho and I want to know whether or not he was on the edge with those screams and I gave him a light shove over it with our little chat yesterday. I want to know if I did this. Oh, I feel absolutely no remorse over the bodies here. If I were mortal and Yami hadn't come along and done this, I'd be good as dead right now. So, no sympathy for them. I just want to know if I've made Yami into something more, something a bit like me. A partner in crime would be rather fun to have around.
It takes him a few moments of looking around at what he's done before answering me. "I hit Yugi."
So this was a guilt-trip. How tiresome. And to think that I'd gotten my hopes all up like that. "And, what? You decided to finish the job on a bunch of strangers beating the shit out of someone you don't even like?" I don't particularly like the bitterness in those words, but damnit I wanted this to be something interesting. I wanted… I don't know, but I sure as Hell didn't want it to be guilt over slapping his Hikari around.
"Not, that." He looks a bit confused now, a little helpless. I take a few more steps towards him as he turns it over in his head a few more times, his mouth twitching as he rehearses the words. "I didn't feel anything then, and I don't… I don't believe that's right."
Now this I'm finding interesting. The fact that he struck his little lover didn't ruffle him at all, and that's what he feels so confused and guilty over. Something's changing, a shifting of balance within his soul, and one that I particularly want to witness.
I can see that he doesn't know what direction to even start in. So I prompt him. "What happened?"
Yami shakes his head a little, but I don't think it's a sign of him not knowing; merely mild disbelief. "When I got home Yugi tried to talk to me. He was, is worried about me, and he wanted to know what he could do to make it right. He just kept saying that he loved me and he wanted what was best for me and this buzzing started in my mind and it wouldn't shut up. It all just got louder and louder and the only logical thing that occurred to me to stop it all was to lash out."
I let a grin slip out. It's not wholly appropriate but damn it I'm happy. "It worked, didn't it?"
Yami nods at that, crossing his damp and dirty arms across his chest. "I didn't know what to do so I came looking for you." A little smile that might be mirroring me own. "You're hard to find."
"It's a gift." I was right; something's shifting. He's confused but I'm glad to see that he's not resisting it. Actually, given this blood bath slowly soaking into my boots, I'd say he's welcoming it. Well, goodness and purity does get a little stale after a while. It's like eating too many pretty little French cakes. They look nice, they taste nice, but after so much time you just want to stake the guy that invented them and feast on chocolate muffins.
"What's happening to me?" Yami asks suddenly in a soft voice, breaking me out of my bakery-based thoughts. He's watching me with confused eyes now but I don't see any real fear in them, just a general disquiet. I think I'm unsettling him even more by gazing at him like this so I snap my eyes down, taking in the sight of blood and gore to get my thoughts straight. Only to come up with squat. I don't know the answer to that question. Not yet anyway.
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Be a sweetie and leave a review. I think I know what's going to happen (I've planned it), but given the nature of this fic it'll probably end up doing a 180º on me. So yeah, speculation anyone?