Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Yu-Gi-Oh; in addition, "Capsized" is the title of a song by Sarah Harmer, which inspired this story.

Capsized

Without a doubt, one of the most painful things in life is being in a completely one-sided relationship. It hurts to love someone who can never, or will never, love you back. It hurts when the person to whom you would give everything wants nothing to do with you. Most of all, though, it hurts to go back to them every single day, like the puppy dog Seto's always comparing Joey to, no matter how often or how hard they kick you. It's like a dream that you can't wake up from, an addiction that can never be satisfied. It doesn't matter what they do to you, whether they ignore you or crush your spirit piece by piece each time you're near them. They are your drug, and you cannot bear life without them.

Life with them isn't all that bearable, either, however.

I never had a real family. My father was always in Egypt, being an archaeologist, and my mother had died when I was very young. I had no other siblings, and my shy nature has never been conducive to making many friends. So, when he came out of the Ring for the first time, I naturally grew very attached, very quickly. I was a lonely child, and to me, this slightly darker and broodier version of myself was the answer to all the whimpered prayers I offered up to all the gods I knew of each night. It had never occurred to me that the other half of my soul would want nothing to do with me unless there was something he could get out of it.

Still, he was all I had, and I would have done anything to keep him. I cooked for him, cleaned for him, and tried to be there for him as much as he would let me, which wasn't very much at all. When the verbal abuse began, I took it stoically, smiling softly at him just the same whenever he should chance to look at me, and when it escalated into physical violence, I changed tactics and endeavoured to become a moving piece of the woodwork, escaping his notice as much as possible.

Despite the way our non-existent relationship was deteriorating, though, I still would have done anything for him. I would have given up my friends, my worldly possessions, even torn out my own heart if that's what it would take to get him to respect me, at the very least.

Of course, in my experience, life is never that easy.

I have never envied anyone anything. Yugi's Duel Monsters glory and titles, Seto's billions, Joey's careless beauty, Serenity's innocence... all these things and more, I have recognized in my friends, and I have never felt so much as a pang of jealousy. Of course, I wouldn't have a problem with being rich, handsome, and the King of Games, but I was always able to put aside my desires and be happy for my friends as they were blessed time and again by whatever entity has also seen fit to smite me with the trials I'm facing right now.

This time, though, I find myself angry with them, simply because they all seem to have the one thing whose absence I feel most strongly, the one thing that I would kill to obtain; love. Yugi and Yami, Seto and Joey, Marik and Malik... all of them have each other. They have someone to sleep beside, someone to kiss them awake in the mornings and hold them when they have nightmares. They've got someone to talk to when they have a bad day, someone to depend on, and someone who'll love them and understand them unconditionally. I would do anything to secure that for myself, and that scares me.

I am pained and shaken to the core, and I fear that which this feeling may eventually drive me to do.

I've tried talking to my friends many times, but they're always either too busy or too absorbed in their own problems (or those of their significant other) to listen to me. For them too, I used to make excuses, but now I've just decided to let them go. If they truly don't care about me enough to listen on their own, I'm not going to force them. The act would lose all meaning, for both of us.

That's why I write. I write because there's nobody alive who could possibly understand, who would take time from his or her busy life to try to understand me, or what I'm going through, and perhaps help somewhat. We are all alone in the world, completely alone, and anyone who believes in friendship and love is certifiably delusional. I have struggled against this reality, denied it, but in the end, that doesn't change the fact of its existence. Therefore, I will accept it placidly, as I do everything else.

It's really too bad that this catharsis does nothing to improve my spirits, no matter how many times I repeat the same meaningless exercise. I'm still sad, little, weak Ryou, not worth anyone's time or attention, just a few scraps of pity when they feel generous. I hate this. I hate them. I hate feeling this way.

Most of all, though, I hate myself.

He is the cure as well as the disease. I only feel normal when I'm with him, when he deigns to acknowledge me, even if it's just to insult me or complain about something irrelevant. His deep, grating voice scours away my innocence and my illusions of humanity's inherent goodness, but it also revitalizes me more completely and more quickly than a thousand cups of coffee.

Much of the time I'm around him is spent wondering just what the hell's going through his head, whether he hurts me intentionally or not. It's all too easy to dismiss people as evil and be done with it, but the reality of the matter is that people do not embody absolutes. To be such would require the complete extinction of the opposing force, and I know that Bakura isn't purely self-motivated and destructive.

Belligerent, insensitive, and poisonous he may be, but never evil. I will not stand for anyone implying that the man I love is inhuman, especially not myself.

My friends all know something's wrong. Should they ever read this, I want them to know that they're worse than useless. I want them to know that I will survive, without them, on my own. I am through living for people who don't live for me, who spare me only the rare cursory glance and half-hearted inquiry into my general state of being when they feel they must. I want them to know that I am stronger than all of them, because I didn't need any other to persevere.

I want them to know that they're unforgiven, until they can say they care and mean it, and I can reciprocate the sentiment with the same conviction. That is my message to anyone who should come across these writings and pry into my private thoughts so rudely.

Unless you are him, you are unforgiven whatever sins I have the power to damn you for.

Sometimes I want to be like him, cold and uncaring. I no longer want to be subject to these feelings that he dismisses as weak. Sadness, betrayal, compassion, love... all that is real to him any longer is anger and hate. The rest have been swallowed up in the void of his indifference at some point during the course of his existence. At times I pity that, and at others I envy it. Which of these, if any, is more appropriate if I am to become a rock?

Who am I kidding? I'll never become Bakura, and nor do I wish to. To do that would be to deny myself, to become something that I wasn't meant to be, something that I've always been taught was less than I was meant to be. Even if the opportunity presented itself, I'd have to let it pass. The cost would be far too great.

Though I will never pursue this errant wish, I shall forever wonder where it may have led me.

There are times when his thoughts are so clear to me, it's as though we really do share the same bond that Yugi and Yami do, and there are others when I don't even know who he is. Just when I think I've come close to scratching the surface of the mysteries hidden in his soul, their nature changes, like a chameleon fading into the scenery, and all I am left contemplating is the darkness that he wears like a suit of armour. However frustrating the entire thing may be, though, those fleeting glimpses are more than enough to keep me going until I earn the next one. They have to be.

I've speculated about what could drive him to such drastic recourse, retreating into himself and putting on airs in order to make everyone believe that he's irredeemable, and thus stay away from him. Maybe he's lonely, or hurt. Perhaps the horrors of his past life have bled into the new one I have offered him, and jaded him completely, irrevocably. I rule out nothing save the possibility that my friends and all who know of Bakura embrace.

Perhaps I can't see through the airs he puts on because that's all there is to him.

I know I will eventually have to move on. Our relationship has reached a point where a complete severance of all ties would be a mercy for both of us, yet I can't bring myself to do it. I am the light that keeps his darkness from being complete, just as he is the shade that keeps me from being blinded by my own idealism and hope. I need him, just as he needs me. So why can't he see what seems so obvious to me?

We're more alike than he thinks; he's too stubborn to realize that driving me away would eventually lead to his own consumption at the hands of his darkness, and I'm too headstrong to let him make his own mistakes. Maybe I should, though. After all, doesn't the old cliché say that you should set that which you love free, and allow it to come back of its own accord?

Bakura is the most precious thing to me, but I shall never let him go. For one thing, I do not trust that he would come back.

I am fully aware of the horrible toll that this resolution will exact on me, body, mind, and soul, and I don't care. I will sacrifice my happiness, my health, all that I am just to keep him, for the chance to make a difference in his life. Perhaps through self-sacrifice, I can save him in some small way, and while he doesn't particularly want to be saved right now, I don't mind. I'll let him use me however he wants until he does; at least that way, I can remain close to him.

It could be tomorrow, or in a week. It could take years, but one day, my yami will open up to me, and we'll be able to heal the wounds he's suffered together. Once he's adjusted once again to the idea of allowing someone in, we'll become friends, maybe even lovers. Then, one day, I'll be sitting on the couch, and he'll come over, kiss me, and thank me for saving him. The sincerity in his eyes, the warm touch of his lips, and the euphoria of basking in his love will make all that went before worth it.

That's a pretty fantasy, isn't it? I have built my life around it, knowing that the chances of it being fulfilled are about as good as waking up to a snowstorm in mid-July. Some would call me stupid for that, while others would prefer to say that I am loyal. However, I am neither of those things.

I am, quite simply, a lovesick man.

Even though my love will never be returned, even though I stand no chance of ever being let close enough to realize my fantasies, the dream retains its value. I will not abandon it, because to do so would be to abandon him, and he is my life. He will be until I draw my last breath.

I compared myself to a puppy dog before. At the time, it seemed an apt analogy; I try to please my chosen master as best I can, no matter how hard he kicks me, no matter how barbed and venomous the insults that fly from his mouth and pierce me like so many crossbow quarrels. In that respect, I am perhaps a puppy dog, but the analogy does not ring true. For one thing, even a lapdog will eventually run away and become a stray.

He calls me weak, but I think he's wrong about that. Only a strong man can go into the darkness without a sound except for the scratching of pen on paper. Only a strong man can face his destruction without blinking, without running away simply because he can, heedless of the consequences. Only a strong man could willingly die for something as selfless as unreciprocated love.

By those standards, I am the strongest man alive.