A/n: Well here it goes again. I hope this one is better than the last one. Oh and in case you didn't all ready know its yaoi so you no like you no read.

Disclaimer: I don't own so stop askin'.

What a Fallen Angel Wants

Voices. So many voices danced inside his head. Sometimes they were quite and didn't bother him but on days like this they rang loudly in his head and made him wish for death just so they would leave me alone. They would whisper to him, telling him that he would never be loved. The voices continued saying who would love a bloody ragged mess, and this is where he is now and where we meet him.

The dull glow of the bathroom light cast a shadow upon the fallen ones face. His eyes closed as he tried to stop the voices. His ashen colored hair encircling his head as if creating a halo around his head, as the little light that was in the room was cast upon it made his face slightly glow. His eyes open to show the world his chocolately colored depths. Those same depths that show so much pain also carry so much loving and understanding emotions. Then a soft patter catches the pained ones attention. He looks down at his wrist only to be mortified to what he has done to himself.

The crimson liquid runs down his arm and onto the tile floor creating a soft patter. The blade still posed above the open wound now falls to the floor. The boy slowly picks himself up off the floor. The once white tile now sticky with his essence of life. The boy cradles his bloody appendage close to his chest making his white t-shirt red with his depression. Tears now make their way down the pale face as the boy begins to stand completely. He stares at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. Dulled eyes and a boy who has nothing worth living for stares back at him. He quickly closes his eyes as begins work on wrapping up his newest wound.

The young white haired boy quickly turns on the taps as he starts work on washing the wound. Blood still flowing turns the water a murky fuchsia color. As time pass the water slowly begins to return to its original clear color. The blood flow slowed as the hand slowly withdrew from the still running water. Then the boy withdrew from the sink and walked across the room to the cupboard on the opposite side of the room. The sound of rummaging soon overpowered the sound of the running water. As the object was found the sound decreased and the running water made its presence known once again. The running water was soon turned off as the young boy set to work on covering the wound. He took what he found in the cupboard and began to wrap his wound with it. The white cloth soon covered all the evidence that the boy was every injured. The arm now bandaged properly he set to the task of cleaning the room. While getting a new shirt to replace the now bloody red one.

The sink was wiped clean of all its murky evidence. The floor also wiped clean of the blood that had been dripped upon it. The bandages put back in the cupboard and there was no trace of anyone being injured in the room. The boy let a small smirk grace his features as he admired his handy work.

One last look at the room and the light was switched off and the boy closed the door and walked away from the room of his latest deeds. He stood in the hallway just watching the nighttime shadows melt into one another. The shadows seemed to greet him as this was always his nighttime ritual. Drown his pains with blood, clean up the mess and pretend it never happed, then leave the room (still pretending it never happened) and sit in the hall way and gaze at the darkened walls. The shadows were use to him invading their space as he was use to invading there space. So as to not disrupt the ritual he slid down the wall into a sitting position and continued to watch the shadows as they danced across the walls.

The silhouettes danced their exotic dance for him. He sat in the darkness content on only watching them. The shadows swung from left to right then back again. He sat only admiring their beauty and grace. The dace all ways put him into a trance. A trance in which all would become lost and all thoughts were forgotten. So when a bright light was turned on and the shadows disappeared it was not a surprise that his hollow eyes widened in search for the lost silhouettes of darkness.

"Ryou...." A deep voice called in the now lighted hallway.

The one now called Ryou turned his head to find the owner of the voice and the one that made the shadows stop dancing.

His eyes turned to find an exact replica of him self. Well at a first glance that is what one would think, but if you looked closer you could see the differences between the two. The one standing had a stonier appearance while the other looked very child like. Ryou seemed more innocent then the one standing. Ryou with his puffy white hair and his eyes that screamed depression just seemed to look a little like the one before him. The others eyes were emotionless until you looked within their depts. There you saw a world of hurt and anger covered with stone.

"You're doing it again." The voice once again broke a trance.

Ryou bowed his head and nodded only slightly. He the stood not raising his head but let his hair cover his face.

"I know Bakura." Ryou said as he lifted his head to let his hair swing back behind his shoulders and let his depression lit eyes light the room.

The one called Bakura then nodded as well then he held out his hand as to signal the other to take it. The other studied the hand as he walked toward it. Then he let his smaller hand be taken by the larger. Then his eyes followed the arm up to stony eyes.

"Off to bed you have school tomorrow and I don't want to woken up by that blasted ringing device." Bakura stated as he began to drag Ryou down one of the many halls.

A soft giggle was heard as Ryou thought about Bakura's extreme dislike of his alarm clock. He remembered the first time Bakura was introduced to the alarm clock. Bakura came into his room with every dagger he owned ready to kill what had woken him up. It was safe to say Ryou needed a new clock after that.

All of a sudden Ryou bumped into something as his thoughts slowly drifter away from him. That something was a taller version of himself named Bakura. Bakura turned to look at his lighter self with a questioning look.

"Just thinking, is all." Ryou replied to the stare.

Bakura nodded as to say that was a good enough reason. Then turned back to the reason he stopped. A door at the end of the hallway with a sign above the door that stated 'Ryou'. They had reached their destination. Bakura then turned the brass knob and was soon leading Ryou into his room with their hands still linked.

The room was not a small room by any means but it wasn't a super large room either. The room was painted a smoky gray color with small murals on every wall. Their were fallen angels and other things that seemed to plague his mind, but the largest one was on his ceiling. It was a picture closely resembling the change of heart. The angel had a dark and a light side, yet this angel was bloody and battered. The pictures were drawn and painted by him and sometimes even Bakura would help him with his art. Other than that the room was pretty normal a bed with gray cover to match the walls, a desk with a laptop upon it and double windows on the far side.

All in all it was a pretty normal room. Bakura continued to pull Ryou into the room. Seeing as Ryou was already in his night cloths (A white t-shirt and black boxers) Bakura pushed him on too his bed. Ryou soon pulled himself under the covers and into a comfy position. Bakura nodded his head in approval as he sauntered toward the door.

"G'night Bakura..." Ryou said as he began to yawn.

"Yeah, yeah G'night Ryou" Bakura said as he made his way out of the bed room door.

Ryou turned on his side and promptly feel asleep. Bakura on the other side of the bedroom door spoke one more into the night air before going to sleep himself.

"Good night my fallen angel."

Tbc

A/n: that's the first chapter. I'm going back to school tomorrow so don't expect up dates every day(or week) but I'll try if you guys r/r me. Don't hold back tell me what you think. I ready for it.