And finally, we have an update! A very short one, but I'm not really sure where I want to go with this story at this point. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Read and enjoy!
How long did he stay kneeling there in the grass, frozen? Ryou didn't know. When he finally returned to the present though, it was evening. The sun was setting, the sky washed with crimson streaks of blood that spilled over onto the grass, the trees, until everything was stained a rich scarlet. He noticed that his neck was sore, his knees aching from being in the same position for so long. Pins and needles assaulted his feet, but he ignored the sensation and rolled up his sleeve, carefully placing the hummingbird on the grass beside him.
The scars were still there, a lacy network of silver threads crisscrossing the pale skin of his arm. There was a certain elegance to it, even considering the nature of the wounds. However, it was marred by an unsightly welt of scar tissue slashing diagonally across his wrist. Ryou laughed bitterly, reminded of his attempted suicide. Bakura really had been a knife master, with an eye for beauty. He wielded his blade expertly, all the countless times he had forced Ryou into submission, never making a single cut that detracted from his attractiveness. It was ironic then, that the one scar that was just plain ugly had been self-inflicted. Suddenly angered, he scooped up the dead hummingbird and hurled it away from him as hard as he could.
"Damn you, Bakura!" he howled. "Damn you and everything you did to me! Look at me! Look at what you did to me! I'm fucking useless now, it's all your fault! I wish I'd never fucking met you, I wish Dad had never given me that fucking ring! I hope you never fucking come back!"
He screamed until his throat was raw and all that came out was a hoarse rasp, then continued his tirade silently. Finally, his anger gave out and he curled up, weeping. He could scream all the lies he wanted, but he couldn't hide the truth from himself. He loved Bakura. He'd give anything to have him back in his life; he couldn't even imagine life without Bakura. Even the abuse provided some form of the contact Ryou craved – it was proof that he still meant something to Bakura, that the spirit cared enough about him to hurt him. Now, all he felt was emptiness.
Sorry about how short it is and how long it's been since I updated. I've been busy and fighting writer's block…Well, please review! Even if you hated it, tell me that you hate it, or if you think I should take it off And if you loved it, comments would be encouraging. Thank you all for reading!