This is a combination of late nights, me feeling whimsical, and an overbearing love of all that is Yuugiou in general, and Bakura in specific. Thus the randomness of the directions the story goes in. Yes, you should be afraid. It's weird. Particually because I wrote the latter half without re-reading the first half. () Bakura's so cute when he's exhausted.... --
As for the title.... shrug Well, I had to call it something
Slight shonen-ai hints, particually Bakubaku, if you're worried. Mwa. Bakubaku. ==
"italics"=thought-words via mindlink.
Dark Moon
By Tyger.
I envy them. I envy them so much that each time I see them together envy constricts my chest and jellousy makes my heart feel as if it is going to explode with it's seething hatred.
They don't know that, of course. Of course. I'm too nice and kind and polite and friendly to show such a vile emotion. Especially to my best friends. And they are. Not that I have that many friends to choose from, but still. And I love them as I would brothers, strange though that may seem.
That doesn't mean that I can't envy them.
That doesn't mean that although my heart lifts whenever I see them, that it can't also sink with dread.
I envy them for their openness. Their willingness to drag their Other around, and show him off and possess and be possessed by him, and love and adore and wear their heart on their sleave around him (excepting Kaiba-kun of course, always excepting Kaiba-kun), and be so damn obvious about it, so damn open. In public. As in, around other people. Even if it is just around people who already know them, a little, at least.... Some of the stunts they pull! It's as if they don't even know common courtesy, don't know how rude it is to flaunt what they have in front of other people's faces, to rub in the fact that what they have is so much better than what anyone else could ever hope to have. Hell, perhaps they don't. And even if they did, it's obvious that they don't care. Not in the slightest. Common courtesy? Good manners? Everyday politeness?
It's so far below them that, to them, it might as well not even exist.
I wish I could be like that.
But no, never. I'm too polite, to shy to ever do such things. And even if I wasn't, I'm far too seceretive to let such personal thoughts and feelings out without a fight. And my yami is the same, of course. Though none of us are all that different from our Others. Of course not. How could we be? Things wouldn't ballance, then. Not just between individual pairs, but the whole of us. True ballance is like that. Balance within things, and ballance within the things in which the original things are part of. It's a four way - or is it eight way?- tie here. One fall, and all fall. Life has a perverse sence of humor, I've noticed.
We're an odd mix, most certainally. The muted light and soft, pale darkness of dawn, the noonday sun and lurking darkness of the day, the bloody crimson light and the long, distorted darkness of dusk.... and the pale, pure moonlight and the eaqually as pure darkness of midnight.
We're not like them, because, though they're all as different from each other as we are from them, they're all children of the sun, and are blessed by it's raidience. And so they glow, in their own way, whenever it's light hits them. Even though they can't see it, people somehow notice that, and respect them for it. Even if they hate them, if they loathe them with the entireity of their soul, people respect them.
They don't respect me.
Not like that.
Not instantaniously, unknowingly and irrecovably.
Not for the simple fact that I exist.
Not during the day, anyway. And I can't let them see me at night, moon-kissed and brilliant. I can't let them see. Not ever.
People don't respect creatures of the night. They fear them.
My yami revels in it, of course, but fear is the only kind of respect he knows, or cares to know.
I don't want to be feared.... not by anyone, and certainally not by my friends.
....It's so hard to keep in....
It's an automatic thing, the absorbing of magic. Trying to stop it is like trying to stop thinking, or feeling, or falling asleep after 48 hours of wakefullness. Not impossible, but....
Your knees go weak, and your stomache clenches and your lungs contract and your head aches and you just want to throw up and sit and cry and breathe, breathe in the not-air which is magic and be lost in it's calm, carefree existance.
You can't of course, but it does make you wonder if it's all worth it.
I didn't have friends before, and I was content.
Yet....
I don't want them to see me as I truely am. I don't want them to know. I don't want them to leave my all alone. I have my yami, of course, but it's nice to be able to talk to someone that you don't know what they're thinking.
I only have Tousan, in the family department. No siblings, no cousins.... no hidden relatives in remote courners of the world.... without my friends, there's no-one. Not that Tousan is very good company even when he is around. We (technically) live in the same house, yet we don't know each other from a bar of soap. It's kind of sad really.
Which is why I have to keep my friends, at any cost. No matter how much it hurts.
It's not true friendship if one is feared.
"Dark thoughts, for a light being." My yami, of course. Who else could know what I was thinking? He stalks up behind me, to where I'm sitting on the windowsill.
"....Perhaps...." I lean back, untill I'm near vertical, and my head is on his shoulder. He's boney, but it's nice to be close to him. He's warm, today. Or maybe it's just me who's cold. "but true ones" He doesn't say anything, but I can feel his amusement, and I have to fight the urge to grin. We just stay there for a while, looking through the window into the dark night sky. The stars seem awfully bright tonight, even in this heavily light-polluted city. There's no moon to drown them out. The New Moon.... it's eaqually as magical as the Full Moon, but receives none of the credit. Ah, well. What can you do?
It's odd for me, though. I'm a hikari, yet the light I draw my magic from keeps going away.
No wonder I'm in such a depressing mood.
I sigh softly, and my eylids begin to droop. So tired.... So weak.... I turn my head so I'm facing his neck. I can feel his pulse on my nose.... ku....he has a pulse! Thumpity-thumpity-thump goes his heart. It's funny. I never knew dead men had heartbeats. He smells nice, too. Like sand, at night. Sand's weird like that. It smells different depending on the time of day - and the place. Desert-sand is different to beach sand, after all.
"You're exhausted." Softwarm darkness. (Mine?)
"....yeah...."
"Well," he says, picking me up properly "Then you'd better get to sleep then." He's half-gruff, half-exasperated, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit concerned. I don't know, he's just too hard to figure out. He carries me, damsel-in-distress style out of the room, down the hall and into my bedroom. Ku. He has pretty hair. Look, look, it swishes when he walks. I reach up and bat at it playfully. Shi----------ny.... He looks at me quizzically, like he
has no idea what I'm doing.
"....pretty hair...." I explain, and smile up at him. He rolls his eyes and keeps walking.
When we get to my room, he plonks me down on my bed. Ku. Plonk is such a funny word - plonk plonk plonkity plonk! Huh? What's he doing? Oh. Jacket off. Jacket off is good. Blankets are kind of cold, but I snuggle up anyway.
"Goodnight" He whispers in English, like he used to do when I was a little kid. He turns to go. No! I grab his hand.
"Don't go. Stay with me?" It's half a plea, half a request, half an act of desperation.... but why do I want him to stay?
"Why?" His eyes are feirce, demanding.... not that that's a surprise.
"I don't know." I admit. "Just.... please? I don't want to be by myself." Half a statement, half a question. I'm so confused.... I really need some sleep. His eyes soften, just a little bit, and he half-smiles at me.
"Fine." He rolls his eyes again. "You look so pathetic, how could I refuse?" ....I think that might have been a compliment.
"Thanks" I whisper, and let go of his hand. He takes off his big coat, and climbs in next to me. He's so warm. I snuggle up to him, and somehow manage to end up with my head on his chest, but my feet still under the blankets. He says something, but I'm asleep before I can register the actual words.
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Um.... yeah. Review?