Disclaimer – Still don't own them, but I do have a letter out to Santa about that one. It would be nice to find Bakura wrapped in a bow under my tree Christmas morning . . .
Author's Notes – Day Eight! YAY! I know I'm behind . . . writing while baking and watching three kids rampage through my house is like trying to have your teeth pulled while knitting . . . virtually fricking impossible. But, I finally got this chapter done, so here it is. Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 8 – On The Eighth Day of Christmas – Eight Snowflakes Melting
Yugi bustled around the kitchen, busily cooking breakfast, hoping that he could entice Yami to eat. The former spirit had not eaten, nor emerged from his room, from the time he had returned to the Game Shop after setting out after Bakura the previous day, and Yugi was worried.
What had happened between the two spirits? Had they had that big of a fight over Bakura's threat to Joey? Somehow, Yugi doubted that was the problem. Something else had occurred . . . he was just simply at a loss to figure out what.
Of course, there was what Yami had said to Joey before disappearing into his room. 'The charade is over, Joey. The prize isn't worth the pain.' What had that meant? Had he honestly given up on Bakura? Yugi wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or disappointed. His dark had never given up on anything . . . what could have happened yesterday between him and the thief to change that?
"Damn it," the youth snarled, slamming the pan of eggs down on a cool burner in an out of character display of temper. "If Bakura did anything to hurt him, I'll kill him myself." Silently drumming his fingers on the counter top, he debated calling Ryou and asking to speak with the former thief to give him a piece of his mind. That wasn't such a good idea . . . if Yami was like this, what condition was the Tomb Robber in?
That is, if he even cared. More and more Yugi was beginning to wonder if they had misjudged the thief's state of mind towards his dark. Maybe Bakura had just been playing a game with Yami . . . they couldn't really tell. It would be right in line with the other shit he did . . .
Sighing, Yugi fixed a plate for his dark and strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Knocking on the door lightly, he opened it and walked into the room. He was unhappy to find that Yami had not moved since Yugi had last come to check on him . . . he was still perched on the window seat, staring out the window at the falling snow, watching them melt against the glass, the desolation in those crimson eyes painful to see.
"Yami?" he murmured, drawing near. "I made you some breakfast . . ." There was no response . . . not even a flicker of those garnet orbs to signify that his dark had even heard him. "Please, Yami . . . you have to eat something. At least talk to me!" he pleaded. He reached out to touch one golden skinned shoulder, and gasped as he saw the crystalline tracks of tears coursing down the elegant face. "Oh Yami . . ." he murmured. Sitting down beside his dark, he wrapped the taller man in his embrace silently.
That simple, caring act was all it took for the dam to break. Yami's arms came up around him, holding him tightly as the tri-colored hair dropped to his shoulder, sobs shaking the slim form in his arms.
Quietly, Yugi held his other as the former Pharaoh cried silently . . . and he wondered if things would ever be all right again.
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Ryou hung up the phone with Yugi a few hours later, chocolate eyes blazing with anger. Whatever game his dark was playing was ending now! The fact that Yami, of all people, had been crying on his hikari's shoulder was like a blow to the heart for the gentle boy, and that it was his yami's fault simply made him furious. How could Bakura do such a thing!? Surely his dark wasn't so heartless as to play with someone's emotions as he had!
Stalking over to the basement door, looking rather like the man he was planning to confront during that moment, he slammed the offending item open and stormed down the stairs.
"What the HELL were you thinking!?" he snapped at the figure lying prone on the bed. "How could you, Bakura!? Even I thought you were better than this!"
"You don't know anything about it, Ryou," Bakura snarled, not moving from his position of staring up at the ceiling. He didn't need to ask what his hikari was mad about. "Go away." Ryou placed his hands on his hips, which made him look even more feminine than usual, something Bakura usually would have smacked him for. But the thief wasn't up to it today. Actually, he doubted he'd ever be up to it again.
How could he have been so stupid? He should have swallowed his pride and apologized . . . called Yami back and done something . . . anything but let that last comment sink into the depths between them and ruin anything they could have had.
He could barely hear, see, or think through the pain that was throbbing in his chest . . . a pain that he didn't think would ever go away. At least he had his confirmation . . . he definitely felt something for the Pharaoh, his former enemy.
This was all the mutt's fault . . . if Wheeler hadn't made a move on Yami, his jealousy would have been under control, and his rage along with it. But being threatened with losing the Pharaoh to that idiot, of all people, had made him lose that fine tuned control he'd developed. And having been rescued by Yami hadn't helped. The last thing he needed was his weak little brat coming to lecture him. He simply wanted to lose himself in the pain and cease to exist.
"No, I'm not going away," Ryou snapped. "How could you do something like this, Bakura! How could you play with him like that! How could you sink so fucking low!" He started out of his skin when his yami sat upright abruptly, red eyes turning towards the youth. Ryou was stunned by the pain and anger that he saw there, and he paused in his rant to reassess the situation. Why would Bakura be hurt, unless . . . unless he hadn't been playing a game with the Pharaoh at all. "You do love him," he murmured unconsciously, staring at his dark in shock.
He was even more surprised when his yami's eyes closed, concealing the pain in those brown tinted depths. That Bakura hadn't come after him yet was a blessing, and a sign that he'd hit the nail on the head.
"Just go away, Ryou," Bakura whispered. He didn't feel like dealing with this right now . . . the world could just go on without him. He wasn't up to this shit at the moment. Unfortunately for him, Ryou wasn't going to cooperate. The gentle boy had finally seen his yami's softer side, and intended to use that to his best advantage.
Ryou crept to the bed, settling down onto it carefully beside his dark before reaching out to lay a gentle hand on one pale, muscular arm. The brown-tinted red eyes opened again, staring at him in shock before Bakura went to snap at him, but he beat his dark to the punch, laying a finger over the other's lips to silence him as he spoke.
"Why didn't you just tell him, 'Kura?" Ryou asked quietly. "Why all this bullshit?" He knew he was swearing an awful lot more than he usually ever would have, but he was terribly upset and out of sorts right now, and manners were the furthest thing from his mind. He needed to get to the bottom of this somehow.
Bakura sighed, shifting slightly before laying back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling in misery. He could just talk to Ryou, he supposed. It couldn't hurt anything now . . . nothing could hurt him wore than what he'd done to himself.
"I . . . I didn't know for sure that I had fallen in love with him until last night, Ryou," Bakura said. He missed the slight jump of shock as he used the boy's name . . . he usually never did that. "I don't even understand how this could have happened. I've hated him for most of my life, hikari. How could I suddenly love my enemy?"
"There's a fine line between love and hate, 'Kura," Ryou murmured. "And five thousand years is a long time. He's the last person to know who you were . . . and the two of you are the only people like you in the whole world. It's natural. But why haven't you said anything?"
"I didn't . . ." He stopped as his pride choked him. He didn't want to admit his uncertainty about Yami's feelings to Ryou, nor did he want to say how much he'd wanted his feelings to be returned. But Ryou, always being uncannily able to read his mind, said it for him.
"You wanted him to love you in return, and you didn't know if he did," the boy murmured, comprehension dawning. "Oh, yami . . ." Bakura rose from the bed abruptly, stepping away from his hikari angrily.
"Don't pity me!" he snarled, clenching his fists. "If the damn mutt hadn't moved on him, I would have had more time to sort this out . . ." Ryou sighed sadly.
"Bakura . . . Joey and Yami aren't seeing each other," he murmured. When the red-brown eyes turned to look at him, he shrugged slightly. "They're just friends." He wasn't about to admit to the whole plan to make him jealous . . . that would simply send him into a rage right now, and Ryou wanted to continue to explore this strange new side of his dark.
"They looked awfully close setting up the tree to be simply friends," Bakura growled. Even now, the image of Joey and Yami together threatened his control. He wanted to tear something apart with his bare hands . . . or get rip-roaring drunk and drown it all out in the fuzz of an alcohol induced coma.
"Like he and Yugi usually are?" Ryou pointed out. Bakura shrugged angrily.
"That is different. They are yami and hikari, two halves of the same whole." Ryou shook his head sadly, chocolate eyes dark as he watched Bakura begin to pace restlessly. He couldn't very well just come out and tell his dark that Yami did, indeed, return his feelings. That was something only Yami could do, if he was so inclined to do so at all anymore. From the sounds of it, if what Yugi had told him over the phone was true, Yami was in just as much pain right now as his own yami was.
There was a knock on the front door just then, and Ryou growled slightly under his breath, sounding disturbingly like his dark as he rose from the bed and strode up the stairs to see who it was. Opening the door, he was surprised and somewhat mortified to find Joey standing on his front step.
"Ryou," Joey murmured without preamble. "Can I come in?" Ryou looked over his shoulder for a moment.
"I don't think that's such a good idea right now, Joey," he replied. The blonde shrugged, but walked past him into the house anyway.
"I assume Yugi called you about Yami," the amber eyed boy said, stopping just inside the doorway. Ryou nodded slowly.
"Yes," he murmured, wondering where this was going. Why was Joey here? Did he have a death wish or something? He had to know Bakura would be after his blood at this point . . . especially if Yugi had called him.
"I want to speak with your yami," Joey said, and Ryou's eyes widened in shock. Joey must have really had a death wish to come here to 'speak' with his dark. Sensing a presence behind him, Ryou turned around slowly, already sure of who was there and not liking it one bit.
"What do you want, mutt?" Bakura growled, cracking his knuckles ominously. In the bright light of day, out of the dim recesses of his room, the former thief looked even more haggard than usual. He was crackling with barely contained rage, and the pain that seemed to envelope him in a dark cloud was even stronger now than it had been. "Haven't you done enough?"
Joey held up his hands in surrender, signally that he wasn't there to fight . . . much. Unfortunately for him, Bakura was in no mood to listen to that silent plea. Striding across the distance between them, he slammed the taller man back against the door, his teeth bared in a feral grimace as Ryou tugged ineffectively at his arm, trying to get him to release the blonde.
"Bakura, this isn't going to help anything . . ." he said desperately. He backed off when Bakura snapped at him.
"It will make me feel a whole hell of a lot better," he snarled before turning back to Joey. "What did you do? Come to gloat? The homicidal, anti-social thief falls in love with his enemy and you take him out from under my nose . . . that kind of shit? Get out of here, Wheeler, and leave me alone." His hands tightened dangerously around Joey's throat, making it harder for the blonde to breath.
Amber eyes stared down at the white haired thief solemnly, refusing to give in to the fear that was coursing through his veins at the moment. If he showed any sign of it now, he would throw Bakura off the edge of sanity, like a rabid wolf. He'd come here to set things to right, and damn it, he was going to do it even if it killed him.
"Yami loves you, Bakura," he said hoarsely, forcing the words past the slowly tightening grip on his throat. "There wasn't anything between us. We wanted to make you jealous, so that you would come out and admit how you feel about him. That's it. He doesn't think you can return the sentiment." He gasped, taking in a great lungful of air when Bakura suddenly released him, staring at him in shock, his pale face going even paler as the red-brown eyes widened.
"What?" he said, for once his voice a normal baritone rather than the growl he usually effected. "What are you talking about?"
"It's true, 'Kura," Ryou murmured, giving Joey a moment to get himself back in order after that near brush with death. "I don't know what happened between you and Yami yesterday, but Yugi just called not too long ago. Whatever happened, Yami's heartbroken. He loves you, yami." He sighed, settling into one of the kitchen chairs. "But you know him better than anyone, other than Yugi. He won't admit to something like that if he doesn't think you'll ever love him in return."
Now it was the thief's turn to drop into a chair, staring in turn from Joey to his hikari, shock painting his features with an interesting palor. Yami . . . loved him? It was impossible! But his heart started thumping against his chest, hope welling up in him before he crushed it ruthlessly. After what he'd said and done yesterday . . .
Ryou, easily reading his dark's thoughts, reached across the table to lay a soft, comforting hand on his dark's pale arm.
"He'll forgive you . . . if you can just swallow your pride long enough to say your sorry," the boy murmured.
He needed to think . . . this was unexpected, although not altogether unwelcome. Standing slowly, he disappeared into the living room, leaving Ryou and Joey to stare after him in confusion.
"Well . . . I'm still alive," Joey muttered finally, rubbing at his throat. "That's better than I expected to be after that." Ryou smiled slightly and shook his head at the irrepressible blonde, amused despite the situation. Glancing back towards where his dark had disappeared, he got up and fixed them both a cup of hot chocolate, hoping that Bakura would now come up with some way to repair the damages between Yami and himself.
Who said Christmas wishes didn't come true?
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Yugi paced the living room floor, his hands shoved into his pockets as he thought. Yami had finally fallen into an exhausted slumber over three hours ago, something that his aibou was extremely grateful for. Seeing his dark so broken and hurt was unnerving, and painful.
He hoped he'd done the right thing by calling Joey and Ryou. His white-haired friend had sounded awfully angry when they'd hung up . . . and Joey had hung up the phone just as quickly after saying he had something he had to do. He hoped they weren't going to do anything to make the situation worse . . . although he doubted anything could make things worse than they already were.
Damn the thief and his infernal games! Yugi had really thought there might be something there . . . some emotion towards his dark other than hatred. Now Yami was in pain and there was nothing he could do about it. He wanted to hit something . . . or rather, someone . . . and that startled him. He usually wasn't very violent – actually, he hated violence. Yami was the one who handled confrontations. But now he was angry, and hurt on behalf of his dark.
If he knew he stood a chance against Bakura, he would have gone over there and given the thief a piece of his mind. As it was, he could only sit back and try to help his yami deal with this, and that bothered him. Yami had done so much for him . . . been there for him so many times . . . and all he could do was watch his best friend's heart break into a million tiny pieces.
The phone rang, and he grumbled slightly before going to pick it up.
"Motou residence," he said, trying to keep his worry and anger out of his voice.
"Yugi!" Tea's voice came from the handset. "Hey, don't forget about the party tomorrow night! You guys have all got to be there." Yugi slapped his forehead, stunned with his own memory loss. How could he have forgotten that, of all things?
Kaiba Corp. was having a small Christmas party for the resident duelists of Domino City. He and Joey had been invited . . . he suspected the invitations had been done by a computer, because Kaiba would never have sent one to Joey. Ryou had been invited too . . . apparently anyone who had participated in Battle City was invited. Tea, Tristan, and Duke were all going as guests.
It was supposed to have been him and Yami's first appearance in public as separate entities, separate duelists. But with Yami in the condition he was in now . . . perhaps the party wasn't such a good idea.
"Tea . . . I don't think Yami and I will be going," he replied finally. "There's . . . well, circumstances," he muttered, unwilling to go into detail. It was Yami's business, after all. He scuffed his foot against the carpet gently.
"Yugi, you simply have to come! You're the Battle City Champion!" Tea said. "It won't really be a party without you!"
Yugi nearly started out of skin when a familiar, fatigued tenor spoke behind him.
"We will go, aibou," Yami murmured. "There is no sense to missing it . . . simply because of what occurred. We made plans to go, so we shall go." Yugi turned to face his dark, concern darkening the amethyst eyes as he took in the weary stance and dull garnet eyes.
"Are you sure, Yami?" he asked quietly. "I mean . . . Bakura might be there . . ." He hated seeing Yami flinch at the mention of Bakura's name, but the Pharaoh quickly drew himself together.
"I can't hide from him for the rest of my life, little hikari," Yami replied. "I will have to face him sometime . . . and I would rather it be in a crowd, surrounded by my friends." Yugi nodded sadly, smiling slightly in an attempt to comfort his dark before returning to his conversation with Tea.
"Okay, Tea," he said. "We'll be there." They said their goodbye's and hung up before Yugi returned his attention to Yami. The Pharaoh had sank onto the couch, staring absently at the powerless television. He walked over to his yami softly, dropping down on the sofa and squeaking softly when the taller man pulled him closer, cuddling him into his side gently.
"Thank you, little one," the former Pharaoh murmured softly. "For earlier." He smoothed a hand through the wild tri-colored locks absently, seeming to draw his own comfort from the absent caress. "It is not often that I need to do that."
"Hey," Yugi said, turning around so that he could look up into the crimson eyes. "If you can't cry in front of me, of all people, then we're really in trouble. Besides . . . it's nice to know you're as human as the rest of us sometimes." Yami smirked slightly, and Yugi blushed as he realized what he'd said. "Being a five thousand year old former spirit doesn't count, Yami," he mumbled defensively, burying his burning face against his dark's chest. He was gratified when a chuckle rumbled in his ear.
"Of course not, aibou," Yami said, still chuckling. "How remiss of me to think that." Yugi smacked him playfully, in return of which he began tickling his small counterpart.
Happy to see his dark freeing himself of the black despair he had been drowning in, Yugi didn't fight back nearly as hard as he usually would have.
Yami shoved Bakura out of his head, relishing being able to spend time with his light. There would be enough time later in his life to mourn what might have been. For now, he had Yugi and their friends . . . and that would be enough. It had to be, for his sake as well as theirs. He would not drag them down with his misery. He simply wouldn't allow it.
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Bakura watched the snowflakes melting against the warmer glass of the house with absent eyes, his thoughts a rampant jumble of chaos after the confrontation with the mutt earlier. He hadn't moved from this spot since then, seated on the window seat staring out at the whitening world.
Yami loved him. That thought was a constant circle in his head. Yami LOVED him . . . and he'd completely fouled it up by letting his pride and jealousy get the better of him. He'd already gotten over his anger at being played . . . he'd deserved it, in the end, for being such an idiot. How could he have been so blind?
That day Yami had come over . . . the day that he'd almost made his claim on the Pharaoh . . . Yami hadn't been here just to fuck. He'd come to find out how Bakura felt about him . . . and all he'd been able to think about was divesting the man of his clothing and pounding him through the couch. When had he become so completely blind and stupid!? Five thousand years of celibacy must have done something to his head . . . or rather, to both heads.
How was he going to fix this? He was a thief, for Ra's sake! He'd never been good with relationships, or emotions for that matter. What the hell was he supposed to do now?
He straightened slightly as he sensed Ryou's presence in the room behind him, but didn't turn to look. His hikari had been in and out to check on him ever since the mutt had left. This time, however, he wasn't walking right back out.
"Bakura?" the boy said softly, coming to stand just behind his right shoulder. "You can still fix this . . ."
"How?" he growled quietly. "I'm not good with people, Ryou . . . you above anyone else should know that." Ryou sighed, and in a rather stunning display of bravery, sank onto the window seat next to him, their knees touching. Bakura considered it for a moment before deciding to just let it be. If he had to be honest with himself about Yami, he might as well be honest about Ryou as well. The boy wasn't nearly as annoying as he pretended he was . . . and he really didn't deserve the treatment he was handed by his own yami. Perhaps it was time he started being nicer to the boy . . . after all, Ryou had finally grown enough of a spine to both stand up to him and get close to him without flinching. He supposed his little duck had finally turned into a swan . . . or his cub into a full grown tiger, whichever mood he was in at the moment.
"There's the party tomorrow night," Ryou murmured, and Bakura moaned before dropping his head into his hands. He'd forgotten about that stupid thing . . . but Yami would be there. His head rose again at that thought, the reddish brown eyes lightening slightly before darkening again. Who could say that Yami would be there . . . if the other yami was in as bad a shape as him, he would want to skip a party of any sort and just be miserable and alone.
"Yami won't be there," he said, pressing one pale hand against the cool glass. "Not after yesterday."
"It's a shot, Bakura," Ryou replied, laying a smaller, pale hand over his against the glass. "It's better than sitting here moping, isn't it?"
"I'm not 'moping'," he snarled slightly, and Ryou giggled a bit. Okay . . . that laugh simply had to go. It made him sound so girlish it was frightening.
"Whatever," the boy said. "But at any rate, it'll give you a chance . . . and since all of us will be there, you're more likely to get close to him."
Bakura had to admit Ryou had a point. Fine . . . he would go to this party. Then, he would set about proving to Yami how much he had grown to love him . . . and that he belonged to no one but his former enemy.
Silently, closer than they had ever been in both body and spirit, the two white haired men sat watching the world turn white.