A/N: Yes, yes, I know, it took waaaay to long for me to update. However, this chapter has been Beta-d! By the wonderful, the spectacular, the uber-shibby ImmortalChaos! *Wraps arms around protectively* But she's MINE! All mine! Well, I suppose I'll have to share with her family, friends, and such… *curses*.

Well, whether I have to share or not, this chapter is dedicated to her. Because she rocks! Urg, some of the Italics don't show up (*shakes fist at ff.net*) but you'll just have to bear with me. Eh, is that the right bear? Or is it bare…?

Ooh! My word count before I posted this used to be "6699". Now it's probably some random number again. *Curses*. Oh well. Please enjoy.

***

When Ryou ran out of the house, he wasn't really heading in any particular direction. Not that it mattered; it's hard to run from someone who lives in your head, after all.

Yet he had also left the Ring at home, hoping that the separation would take him out of range of Bakura and his shared mind link.

'Without the Ring's power, our mind link won't work. And if I can't hear him, he can't control me.' With that thought driving him, Ryou found himself trying to put as much distance between himself and the Egyptian artifact as his tired legs could manage. Bakura's presence had all but disappeared from Ryou's mind as the gap between them removed the Ring's power.

As their mind link dissipated, Ryou found himself completely alone in his own mind. Without the other's thoughts to distract him, he hoped to regain control of his rampant emotions. His Yami was the cause of his distress; wouldn't escaping Bakura at least lessen the grief within his heart?

Yet his sadness had not diminished with Bakura's absence. In fact, the feeling of anguish seemed to have increased. Even without his counterpart's attendance, Ryou still felt as if the spirit held authority over his emotions and actions.

'Even after the puppet's strings are cut, he still follows the puppeteer's commands.' The silver haired boy thought grimly.

"I ran to escape my Yami," continued he with a sigh, "Yet Bakura's memory affects me more than his actual presence did. He can control me even when he's not with me." Determined to break the Spirit's control, Ryou forced Bakura's memory from his mind. He refused to let his Yami, someone who found his pain amusing, have the pleasure of reducing him to tears.

It was 10 o'clock, and a snowstorm was raging. Most shops had closed for the night, and offered no refuge to the distraught boy. Despite his need to escape his Item's pull, the night was cold, and for a short moment, Ryou pondered going back home. Yet back home meant being in range of his Spirit's scorn and manipulation, which seemed a much more terrible fate then a bit of cold.

Instead, he quickened his pace; glad at least that he had remembered his large jacket. Otherwise the elements would have forced him home, despite his fears of Bakura's sadistic mind. He wanted to find solitude, not death, in the cold night.

The sound of many voices reached Ryou's ears, even before his eyes could trace the noise to its source. He hurried through the storm, until he sighted lights from said source, a small (yet apparently full) building.

A small sign in the window proclaimed it 'Open'. That was all Ryou needed to know.

Upon entering, Ryou was given the impression that this was not the type of place he'd visit if a storm and his pride hadn't driven him there. Table upon table was filled with loud men, their women, and- of course -their liquor of choice. Not wanting to join the boisterous crowd, Ryou headed towards the fairly empty bar.

"What can I get for you Dearie?" Asked a small, round woman in an apron, smiling a buck-toothed smile that made Ryou feel oddly welcome. "You don't seem like the type to go for booze; how 'bout a nice tea instead?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," said the grateful boy, sliding onto an empty wooden stool. Within seconds a steaming mug of orange liquid was brought his way.

"Chai, Sweetie," she answered before he could even open his mouth to ask. "Seems to be popular with you young people these days." Ryou took a cautious sip. It tasted… odd. Like pumpkin pie in a cup. Normally Ryou didn't care much for pie of any sort, but he was freezing, and the liquid warmed his mouth, his hands, and his insides. That, and he didn't think he had the courage to send it back. He nodded and smiled.

"Now be a good girl and drink it up. We wouldn't want you catching your death of cold, now would we?"

Ryou almost spat out his chai. The woman thought he was a girl!?!

Though he supposed he might look faintly feminine. His overlarge coat obstructed any view of his body's form, and the cold had no doubt reddened his cheeks and lips. Not to mention his long hair and high voice. Anyone could have made the mistake. He didn't feel like correcting her. He was too tired.

The mention of his own fatigue brought to mind the reason he was there. Bakura. The Spirit's suppressed memory flooded back to the Ryou's unwilling mind.

'So much for escaping." He thought, then gave up. Bakura would always have control of him, whether he liked it or not. 'It's very easy to let those who love control you. Even if you know they don't love you back. And Bakura made that point very clear.' Against his will, tears formed in the corners of Ryou's eyes as he bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling.

"Oh you poor Baby, what's wrong?" cried the rotund woman who had just served him his drink. "You can tell me. That's what I'm here for." She said, flashing him her smile again.

"Oh, boys are just so difficult sometimes!" he choked out, frowning slightly at his own response. He was also a boy, after all.

"You're telling me," the older woman replied with a roll of her eyes.

"They're so confusing," continued Ryou, "They use you and control you until you feel like some kind of toy…" he stopped, expecting the woman to be ignoring him. Instead, she had taken up the position opposite him and was wiping off at the bar's surface with a damp rag, nodding for him to go on.

"See…" he began, pausing as he tried to phrase the story in a way that made sense. "There's this guy. And I really like him. And I told him." Ryou said with a blush, noting how pathetic he sounded.

His one-woman audience nodded thoughtfully.

"Usually that's the perfect approach. Men like straightforward girls who speak their mind and don't beat around the bush. He rejected you though?" she asked. Ryou nodded his affirmative, forcing the woman to gnaw her lip in thought.

"Did you actually ask him if he loved you?" she asked.

"Not really," said Ryou, surprised. He supposed he hadn't.

"Then how can you be sure doesn't?" the woman exclaimed, a sly grin dancing across her features.

To tell the truth, Ryou didn't know. He'd made most of his assumptions while in a fit of sorrow, a time he knew that was not the best for thinking things through. Bakura had never actually said that he didn't love Ryou. He'd told him to get out of his soul-room, and that he wasn't like the pharaoh. Ryou had judged by context. In truth, there was no convincing evidence that proved Bakura's lack of love.

'None that disproved it either,' whispered a corner of Ryou's mind. With a shake of his head, he angrily disposed of the thought. He might as well give Bakura the benefit of the doubt.

The stout woman laughed, busily polishing a glass.

"Even so," began Ryou, his misgivings nowhere near resolved, "I don't think he ever did love me, he was only playing with my emotions. Like I was a toy," Ryou was surprised how bitter his voice sounded, even to his own ears.

"I know I can never care for a person who uses my pain as a source of entertainment. It's almost as if he is incapable of truly loving someone, only using them for his own amusement". Ryou suddenly felt vaguely nauseous, though from the tea, the atmosphere, or the torrent of questions berating his mind, he couldn't tell.

"Sweetie, my Momma once told me that men see love as a game. That the last thing on their mind is commitment, and all they really want is a little fun, even at the expense of another's feelings". Shaking her head, she gently set down the glass, replacing it with another, once again absorbed in her work.

Ryou sobbed once, his eyes involuntarily spilling over. Before he could move, he found himself confronted by the woman's chubby fingers as a delicate handkerchief was thrust under his face.

"I learned later on that my mother was wrong." Continued the owner of the fingers, her voice dropping to a comforting tone. "Men have feelings just like you and I. Love doesn't come naturally to them. It's even harder for them to understand that they aren't the center of the universe," She said with a low chuckle. "You just need to sort out the ones who are willing to face their emotions and learn a little bit of compassion." Ryou nodded, blowing his nose furiously in the lacy handkerchief.

"Any man who can follow his heart instead of his ego is worth chasing after in my book. Guys like that may be rare, but if you find one, never let 'im go. Or drop by to give me their number." Now it was Ryou's turn to chuckle, though it came out as more of an amused hiccup.

"Besides, if this boy of yours doesn't love you the way you are, he's not worth your time. Men who toy with us girls aren't even worth remembering. Tell him how you feel, and if that isn't good enough, he can go fuck himself. You're the one that matters." The woman's rough hand ruffled Ryou's silver hair, then returned to the never-ending task of cleaning. It was all Ryou could do not to break down again.

Not that he had much to break down in. The beautiful handkerchief had been reduced to a wadded mass of lace and snot. The silver-haired boy guiltily eyed the filthy lump on the counter, hands returning to his cup. As if sensing his distress, the woman turned around, abandoning her task.

"No need to worry about that Dear. You've got enough on your plate. Worrying about an old lady's hankie isn't going to help your state of mind."

"But what am I going to do?" asked Ryou, not referring to the handkerchief.

"Just because you've decided you love him doesn't mean he'll automatically feel the same. He'll have to figure out what he feels for himself. Men don't like being told what to do. But if he's really that important, you'll be willing to wait for him for as long as it takes. A year or a lifetime, it shouldn't matter. Love is based on patience. Believe me, you're going to need a lot of it."

She was interrupted by call for more beer at the other end of the bar. With a sigh, she excused herself, disappearing into the crowd.

Ryou sipped his tea shakily, sniffling occasionally when snot threatened to add itself to the chai concoction. Compulsively sipping, he let his mind mull over the woman's words.

'Maybe she's right,' he thought, allowing himself some optimism. 'It's not exactly natural for a former Tomb-Robber,' he paused to stir his tea, '… or anyone, for that matter, to feel love and accept it immediately.'

'Yet you did,' another part of his mind argued. 'You've known about and confronted your emotions, and what you found was love. If Bakura felt even the slightest inkling of what you'd felt, he'd have done the same.'

Angrily, Ryou shoved the thoughts from his mind. Yet his paranoia refused to be silenced.

'If you had separate bodies he'd pay a lot more attention to you. You can't expect him to see you as anything but a source of entertainment. As for a relationship, all you can offer him is words and feelings. Bakura wants sex. And you can't give it too him. So he's resorted to getting pleasure from your pain. You should be happy he's even paying attention to you.'

Ryou already knew that. That's why, in his conversation with Bakura, he'd brought up Yami and Yugi.

' "Yami and Yugi worked it out," ' he'd said, referring to the spirit's separation from his host. The physical aspect wasn't really important to him, but if that's all that Bakura could imagine being worthwhile, Ryou had been willing to offer the alternative. He was willing to split their souls into separate bodies.

Not even that had been enough for the Spirit of the Ring. Bakura had refused his Hikari's offer; for pride or merely for the joy of watching Ryo suffer, the aforementioned boy didn't know.

'I just wish…' Ryou paused again, not quite sure where his train of thought was leading him. 'I wish I knew what to do.' He finished lamely.

'No,' he corrected, 'I… I'm not sure what I wish. I wish Bakura loved me. I wish I were everything he could ever need. I… I'm wishing for miracles.' Silence followed, his mind blank.

'Yet… like the woman said, if I really love him, I'll be willing to wait for him. If he really means that much, I won't just give up because I'm frustrated or unsure. If I love him, none of that will matter.'

Which brought him to the inevitable question. Was Bakura worth it? Was the thought of being with him precious enough that he would be willing to wait, relying on his faith in Bakura and the strength of his own love to carry him through?

Concentrating, Ryou searched his soul.

Opening his eyes, he smiled.

What he felt for Bakura was invaluable. Bakura himself was invaluable. Bakura was worth waiting for. He loved Bakura. So much that he was willing to undergo whatever tortures the Spirit put him through. Bakura was worth his pain, worth his tears. And though Ryou refused to let his Yami toy with him, but that didn't mean he had to stop loving him as well.

"I will wait will for you, Bakura, as long as it takes," Ryou said, enjoying the sound of the words, mixed with the uplifting feeling of his revelation.

He was startled out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder.

"Jesus Honey, I thought you'd left!" Came the woman's deep voice. Her worry filled glance directed his eyes to the hanging clock. 11:40.

"We closed ten minutes ago." She continued, grabbing up his drink and the tip in one smooth motion. "You're lucky I didn't accidentally lock you in. You'd have been stuck here all weekend." She said with an apprehensive smile. "You'd better get going; no doubt you've got a worried mother wondering where her darling has gone off to."

At the last remark, Ryou stiffened. His mother had never been part of his life, and his father always had too much on his mind to care about whether or not his son was home.

'Not that I mind,' came his mind's defensive lie. Besides, his father was not an issue right now. Bakura was what mattered.

Once out the door, Ryou gave a short bow of apology, then tried to thank the woman for her help. She shrugged it off nonchalantly while securing the bar's many locks.

"I'm not just here to serve drinks, Sweetie." The plump woman gave Ryou's cheek a short pinch. "Besides, who can resist helping out a cutie like you with their troubles?" She added with a wink. With that, she turned on her heel and began her walk into the night.

The storm had abated, and the snow was falling gently as Ryou made his own way home. A single white flake landed delicately on his outstretched hand.

"They say that no two are the same…" Ryou whispered, "…but that doesn't mean they won't ever find their perfect match."

With that thought, Ryou gave a small smile, and continued on his way home.

***

A/N: Like it? If you did, praise to my Beta, ImmortalChaos. If it was bad, blame me! We both worked really hard on this, and I think it's my best (as well as longest) chapter yet.

ImmortalChaos hasn't posted anything yet, but once she does, go read her stuff! It's really really good. Like there's this one where… meh, I don't want to spoil it for all ya'll.

As for the "in regards to reviews" thingie, go ahead and forget it. Mindless praise, criticism, flames, or just random words in a review box, I don't care. Just review por favor.