Chapter 3- Icelike
Water is water. As it falls, as it bursts in a thousand perfect drops, it has the same feel, the same sound, the same everything. This is the scientific view of things. Anyone who's ever been in the rain, the sort that falls like freshly-melted ice and blankets the world in shivers, knows that that's nothing like the lazy sprinkle of a watering can, or the spontaneous carefree patter of an unexpected summer cloudburst…and that none of these can compare to a precisely heated shower, particularly if you have the feeling that your veins are filled with snow and an inescapable chill is upon you. That was what it was like…even the numbness that had come to be his one and only comfort had left Ryou as he shivered there in the shower, steam filling the bathroom. How long he had been in there he couldn't tell, but it still didn't seem long enough; this time he'd really done it, tried to escape with such haste that he had been chilled through and through, and the icy rain still seemed to linger invisibly on his skin like so many frozen needles…
But it was getting better. He had to thank Ishizu and her common sense –not to mention her hospitality- the heat of the water was slowly bringing him back, melting away some of the cold from the previous day, and he was glad, if nothing else, simply to have that warmth. Judging by the look Malik had worn when he was woken up, by now he'd surely be back out on the street if not for some sympathy from the other's sister. And maybe that would have been for the best; he wasn't welcome here, he didn't belong in this house. Why had he come?
….no…he knew the answer to that. There was nowhere else to go.
Had he turned up at Yugi's doorstep, he would have been better received, but…that was out of the question. Friendly as Yugi may have been, Ryou was no stranger to the suspicion the boy and his yami couldn't help harboring, the wary glances they'd steal at him from time to time, trying to gauge which side of him held control at any given moment. They thought he was crazy…and if he had to endure that treatment, perhaps he would be in time. Jounouchi would be even worse, still unable to draw a distinction between Ryou and his sadist of a darker half and fairly creeped out by both of them. Honda he barely knew, and Seto…well, that wasn't even worth thinking about.
Malik was his last option.
And now, he'd just been a burden…he should never have run, echoed a voice in his mind, he should have just stayed and taken it, like he always did…
/Damn right you should have stayed./
//Bakura!//
It was that hiss, that whisper in his mind that sent the meager warmth he had gathered in the shower fleeing from him, replacing it with the ice-blooded terror that nothing else he knew could provoke. Dropping the washcloth that he'd idly been running over his thin marred arms, he instinctively stepped back, trying to run from the inescapable hatred that clawed at his very soul. It was only a moment before that hatred took a form solid enough to truly back away from. The Sennen ring gleamed, unnoticed where it had been set aside on Malik's bed, and Ryou found himself gazing weakly up into the vengeful dark eyes that mirrored his own; the eyes of his yami.
"Bakura…"
And those eyes…if Ryou's were the shade of milk chocolate, Bakura's were the same candy---if it were laced with poison. They flashed with their familiar malevolence, but the trembling hikari knew already that this gaze was more piercing than most. He had made a mistake in running…that was far too clear now, as somehow he managed both to pale and to blush under the terrifying glare; he held it, though, in hopes of keeping Bakura's eyes very much above his waist…above his shoulders if he could help it. Fortunately for him, the yami had no vested interest in the body he had left so many marks on, preferring instead to focus his glare into the reddened eyes blinking up at him.
"You little fool. You really thought you could achieve something by running from me?"
"B-bakura-sama, I---" The ineffectual stammering was promptly cut off by a sharp slap across Ryou's pallid face, one that knocked the boy back into the wall and temporarily blurred his vision. There was no remorse, nothing but bitter annoyance in Bakura's eyes, whereas Ryou's were slipping slowly from teary horror to the blankness that they often assumed in these moments. Being emotional had never once helped him out of these situations, but sometimes he could force his mind to drift, try to block out the pain in one way or another…He was promptly brought back to reality, though, as Bakura's hand found its way to Ryou's hair, fingers tangling in the dripping strands and yanking him forward.
"Never defy me," he growled, paying no mind to the yelp that his rough treatment had provoked, "You are –mine-, and if you ever forget that again…" Ryou, who had been awkwardly tilting his head to lessen the tension on his hair, managed only a weak nod and a few quickly spoken words.
"N-never…ah…yes, Bakura-sama, I understand…I won't forget…"
These were the words that reached Malik's ears as he passed the bathroom, only whispers under the constant noise of the shower, but enough to make him pause and listen. At Bakura's name, he smiled to himself; so that damned tomb robber had finally showed up to bring home his hikari. Keh…took him long enough… And now, from what he could hear, Ryou was in trouble.
A lot of trouble, from what he knew of Bakura. This was going to turn ugly.
"Hn…I'll make sure that you don't." There came the unmistakeable sound of a punch, a soft cry of pain, and a solid sound Malik couldn't quite place. As it were, that particular noise was Ryou falling to his knees onto the hard imitation-porcelain of the shower floor, sent reeling by the latest assault. All around him the water fell, stinging the scars and the bruises yet to form, and his weary mind clung to it; perhaps here it could all wash away…perhaps he would be mercifully drowned…but no, not yet, the blows continued to hit, to shake his fragile form, to the point that even remaining on his knees seemed too difficult.
All this Malik heard. The faint whimpers amidst the whip of the water had little effect on him; he was merely waiting. Once Bakura had dealt with and taken back control of his hikari, they would –both- be leaving his house post haste, and the yami would have the debt of Ryou's care for the previous night hanging over him. Until then, there was nothing better to do, so he leaned upon the wall across from the bathroom door and idly listened. The soundtrack was a repetitive one; thuds, cracks, splashes, and the ever-present background noise of the water.
And then…the water was all there was. The static-like patter, and muffled sobs, and nothing more. To Malik, the sounds of violence had been commonplace, unexciting; but this quiet that followed…it was eerie. Eventually even the soft sounds of despair faded, time passing without the expected opening of the door or the emergence of Bakura. In time, the wait became both annoying and slightly distressing; he had been playing host to the tomb robber and his puppet for far too long already, and at this rate they'd use up all the hot water.
"Bakura!" He tried the door, finding it unlocked, and made a quick prayer that in all the time that had gone by his unwanted guest had gotten dressed before stepping in. The shower curtain was drawn, and as far as he could tell, Bakura was still behind it in the running water. Amazing. How long could he possibly spend? It should have been obvious this place wasn't welcome to either Ryou or his yami…but apparently that message hadn't come across clearly enough. With a roll of his eyes, Malik coughed through the steam and leaned against the counter, eyes averted from the closed curtain. "Get out of there, tomb robber, you're wasting my time." He had to strain his ears for the next words, whispered in---to his surprise---the soft British lilt belonging to Bakura's lighter half.
"…Malik…I'm sorry, I…don't think I can stand…"
Couldn't stand? Hn…Bakura had really roughed him up this time. But why was he hearing from Ryou? The yami should have taken control and marched himself out of there, not delivered a beating and disappeared. It didn't make sense; then that unexpected voice came again.
"…please…help me…" The little one was asking for help? From him? Now he knew he had been too hospitable- he had no interest in Ryou's welfare. Apparently, though, two days at his house had given him that impression, and now what was there to do? It came to his notice, gradually, that the steam had stopped pouring from the shower, and Ryou's voice had once more faded into shivery sobs. Great. They –did- use up the hot water. Determined not to let any more go to waste, and growing tired of the whole situation, he pushed aside the curtain quickly to lean in and turn off the shower. It could have ended there; he could have walked out and left Ryou…but then he caught sight of the pale boy and froze where he was, hand on the shower knob.
It was horrible.
Ryou was curled into a ball, leaning weakly against the far corner of the shower, knees pulled to his chest. The droplets that painted trails across him glimmered coldly, picking out the tragedies that covered his small form. Sick-looking bruises all over him, including twin black-blue stripes down his hips that made Malik's stomach churn; the occasional scrape or scratch, the red etchings that traced his arms; bones that seemed barely covered in the body he had never before realized was so thin…it wasn't news to anyone that Bakura was rough with his hikari, but this…this was beyond even his imaginings, and violence was something Malik had a great imagination regarding. This boy had been completely…broken. That was the only word for what he saw: broken. Broken skin, broken soul…he wouldn't be surprised if there were broken bones in that soggy pile of misery. The tombkeeper wasn't one to be bothered by these things…but he had never seen them in such a degree. He almost felt sorry for Ryou…some of these scars were clearly quite old, dating back perhaps as far as his original meeting of Bakura. This had been going on a long time. The shivering boy's slumped posture obscured anything too private, to the great relief of both of them, and Malik slowly managed to turn off the still-falling water. A few drops landed on his hand as the shower stopped, and he shuddered; the temperature had been lowered to the point of unbearable cold. It wasn't just that the warmth had faded…the knobs had been turned, intentionally chilling the water to that point. No doubt Bakura's doing…If nothing else, this made him mad. It was one thing to knock someone around, but then to leave him helpless in such a setting…Ryou had nearly caught hypothermia from the rain, a stunt like this could have killed him. That tomb thief can be such an idiot sometimes…you can't just kill off your hikari. Not without finding someone to take its place, anyways. Since no replacement was visible, hurting Ryou this way was simply irresponsible on Bakura's part. That sort of thing had always annoyed Malik. He wouldn't stand for it.
"Ryou…you're sure you can't get up?" The words surprised both of them, particularly the genuine concern with which they were murmured. Slowly the bruised boy lifted his head, turning to gaze weakly at his questioner. Again Malik saw the unfamiliar sight of sorrow; where the water of the shower had evaporated, tears still carved faint trails down his cheeks. He tried to imagine himself taking such abuse and couldn't fathom it…but suddenly this wasn't about him. It was about Ryou, who seemed pained even by the slight shake of his head he offered in response.
"…I…no, I don't think I can manage it." Suddenly the eyes that already seemed to have too many emotions in them took on a new one, in the form of shyness. "…if you could just…help me up, please…" Slowly, unsure of what else to do, Malik extended a hand, onto which Ryou promptly latched with his own. The Egyptian nearly withdrew, shuddering slightly---Ra, he was cold! Still, he forced himself to maintain the grip, cautiously helping Ryou to his feet. For all his paleness, he still managed a blush, finding the combination of covering himself and standing on his own too difficult to maintain. Letting prudence take precedence over common sense, he managed to stay hidden by his own posture at the cost of his balance, inadvertantly sending himself forward to fall, for the second time in two days, forward into Malik's arms. Once again he was weak, beaten, dripping and cold…this time, however, the faller was nude and the catcher was willing. It didn't bother him so much, holding Ryou for now, just until the boy could get his stability back. He had come to hold a serious grudge against Bakura, and as the saying goes; the enemy of his enemy was a friend. A person only treated someone that way…left so many scars and bruises…if the relationship was one of enmity. By extension, that gave him a slight friendly connection to Ryou. That in mind, he allowed the boy to fall against him, offering his support to the one who so clearly needed it. After all, if he wasn't going to earn Bakura's respect by caring for his hikari…
…he could annoy the hell out of him by doing just that.
And so Malik held him, waiting patiently for Ryou's stability to return, his recent thoughts making contact with the shaking youth slightly less unpleasant. It was still awkward…and it soon became clear that the lack of clothes involved wasn't helping the matter. With an arm still wrapped around Ryou, keeping him upright, he leaned back to pick up the clothes where they had been dropped and thrust them into Ryou's hands, aiding him to lean on the counter before turning away.
"Get dressed." It was a moment before the pale one realized what was being asked of him, and when the thought finally solidified he answered with a quick nod and pulled on the oversized outfit Malik had unwittingly loaned him the night before. When Malik did turn around, though, the clothes might as well not have been there at all. He could still see them in his mind, painfully clear; all those scars, all those bruises and signs of abuse…and he could hear Bakura's voice, hissing threats, denouncing Ryou as pathetic and weak…that was only partially true, he decided now, because without some strength the little one could have never stood up to such torture. Instantly the balance of his respect was shifting; less for Bakura, more for Ryou.
And then something happened. At first it seemed Ryou had lost his balance, or his consciousness, and fallen once more, but it slowly became clear that he was still very much aware. He was just…on Malik. Leaning, resting on him, his hands lifted to clutch lightly at the Egyptian's shoulders. It was startling; but through the masses of lifeless white hair he could see tears slip from Ryou's eyes, hear the shaky breaths, feel him shiver against him…so he didn't push the boy away. Hesitantly, gently…he held him, until it became too much closeness for Malik to bear. When this time came, he helped Ryou to the bed, seating him there, allowing himself to be leaned on a little while longer. Eventually the soft sobs faded, and Malik pulled away, standing, leaving the room to get some thinking done.
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(A/N:
FINALLY o_o; I actually had this written…like…a long time ago But I couldn't decide if I wanted to keep going in this chapter or end it here…I blame her. *points to Yami/Muse-type-thing*
Yami/Muse-type-thing: *cackles*
_ Er, yes. Anyways, with this out of the way chapter 4 will hopefully be up soon. Hopefully. Again, I'm at the mercy of the evil one.
Yami(etc): *still cackling*
-.-; *baps* Oh shut up. Um…yeah…^^; Hm. Notes. Right. Poor Ryou. He's such a sweet kid…so he gets that Also, since I don't have the attention span to work on one thing at a time, I'm starting another fic…it's a RyouKura songfic, you'll find out the details soon enough. ^_^
Oh, and continue to leave reviews. I love y'all for it.
-Yume
)
