Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

Warning: Character death, may contain disturbing themes. Rating will change.

Her Sweetness: What can I say? I got inspired. This is my first time writing like this, so please enjoy what I've written here. If you want this continued, I advise you to review.

…

— A Few Small Repairs—

What I Know:

Can you hear me when I'm dreaming?

Yes.

… What do I dream of?

Me.

And who are you?

Death.

--

The wind whipped through the trees. Bare branches collided into the school's windowpanes and the scratching of the twigs on glass was a small disturbance in the background to the teenagers in the classroom. Their high-pitched voices and gossips and the teacher's clicking of his mouse by the computer in the corner. Florescent lighting made it so that, even though the weather outside was dreary, grey and unpleasant, the classroom seemed normal and calm and filled with laughter.

Teenagers were in the center of the room. Most of them. Others were either skipping classes or in the other corners of the classroom being fondled and kissed and caressed by their temporary lovers.

"…" A sigh escaped the pale lips of a teenager who hadn't gotten up from his seat. Who wasn't speaking. Who wasn't gossiping. Who had no lover. His head was placed on the desk, his cheek pressed against the desktop and his pale, limp hair falling all around him. He looked out to him classmates with dark, chocolate eyes. To anyone those eyes said nothing but warmth, sympathy and innocence. To anyone, those eyes could belong to a child.

But despite the fact that they were beautiful, accompanied by a beautiful face, beautiful features, those eyes were empty and stoic. They were blank. Deep chocolate voids, not filled with warmth, sympathy or innocence, but with confusion and malcontent.

His hands hung limply at his sides, all the blood rushing down into his hands from sitting this way since class began, an hour ago. He sighed again, this time a bit louder. As if trying to get the classes attention, but at the same time, not wanting it. He'd refuse it if anyone tried to come over, to greet him or be friendly.

Of course, he'd never say anything spiteful or nasty. Nothing mean. He wasn't raised that way. He was meant to love, be loved and look at the world with nothing but content. And that is what he had done for sixteen years.

His eyes narrowed a bit, now watching one of the loudest ones in the classroom. A brown-haired girl in the center of six teenage boys, giggling and pretending to be shy about them touching her but all the time her eyes showed that she wanted it. Wanted it badly and would welcome any one of them to take her.

'Filthy slut.' He thought, eyes closing after he'd seen one of the boys outmaneuver the others and manage to catch her interest the most. He'd taken her by the arm and they went to the back of the classroom to the utility closet and shut it behind them. The girls in the room giggled and the boys either pouted or praised their comrade amongst each other, wishing for a brief moment that they were him.

'Filthy, filthy slut…' He moaned and turned around, his blank, loving, hating chocolate eyes facing the windows.

The branches of the trees hit the windowpane again and he tilted his head upwards, looking at the cloudy, grey sky. It was apparent that rain was coming, on its way and he only felt comfort in this. Rain. He loved it. Was in love with it. Rain was his only friend, his only confidant. Rain was the most gorgeous thing in the world to him. Because it was clean. Rain was the essence of cleanliness and decency. And, has he'd always been told, cleanliness is next to godliness.

Rain washed everything away. Sins. Curses. Dirt. Mud. Rain washed it all away, took it all from the world and let people start off with a wonderful, clean slate. But some did not take advantage of rain's generosity. Like his 'friends'. Like his classmates. Like his teachers, neighbors… Like people.

Now bumping could be heard in the back of the classroom, from inside the closet. The sounds of mops being knocked over or buckets or something that the classroom used. Moans followed and grunts. The classroom turned into a fit of giggles and 'ooh'ing.

He clenched his eyes shut, 'Disgusting, filthy… Why? Why? Why are you people like this? It's disgusting, please stop… Please…'

The very thought of what they were doing sickened him. He wanted to disappear, not to hear those sounds anymore, not to hear anything anymore. All he wanted was for them to stop. In dismay, he looked back at the teacher's desk as he continued to play solitaire on his computer. At least that's what the class had always believed.

But he knew better.

He'd seen it once. He'd wanted to ask the teacher a simple question and quietly walked behind his desk, about to tap him on the shoulder, but stopped. On the screen was a black page with naked women and obscene pictures and he'd dropped his pencil and gone out of the classroom. He couldn't take it anymore.

But now the teacher was back at his desk, back there doing only what one student knew.

'People are awful…' He turned back to the window, 'People are so horrible… They truly are… And to know… to know that I'm one of them, one of their kind! To know that I am just like them, just like every one of them… Or I… have the capacity to be. B-But… But I… I am…'

A lightning bolt stuck close by and the lights in the entire school flickered before they came back on. The teenage girls screamed, being dramatic. The teenage boys made their move. The teacher clicked again on his mouse.

He cringed and clinched his fists.

'Rain… Wash us. Make us good again. Make us sweet and kind and pure again. Make us clean.'

In less than five minutes, after repeating those words in his head, the first drop hailed from the heavens and the second drop followed, sliding down the windowpane. Sliding right in front of his face. And, for this brief moment, saving him.

The closet door opened abruptly. The girl stumbled out, her brown hair in a mess and sweat running down her back. The boy falling out after her, a stupid grin on his face. To the girls, he was hot. To the boys, he was a hero.

To him, he was dead.

'W-Wash him… Please…'

For years, he'd been wishing for rain to wash these people, save them and make them good again. But it hasn't happened. Rain had done so much for him, but it seemed that everyone else stayed the same. Or got worse. Got so bad that not even rain could save them.

It had always been a sad thought. It crept into his mind every now and then. The thought that not even his 'friends' could be saved. They were filthy, too. They were very filthy and though no one else saw it, he did.

The bell rang suddenly and motions happened, as they always did. He no longer did anything anymore. It was all a motion. He would immediately go down stairs and fetch his homework or text books and leave. And as he stood under the awning of the school's courtyard, he watched as two sweethearts kissed each other goodbye and went their separate ways.

He crinkled his nose and thought, 'Idiots…'

The other students either called for a ride or got out their umbrellas and trudged through puddles and concealed potholes.

He stepped out into the rain and walked down the street.

It ran down his uniform, soaked into his hair and the books he was carrying. And he loved it. He loved every drop that fell onto his cheek, every bead that he managed to catch with his tongue. He loved it all. The rain was gorgeous this day and this was why he liked spring so much. It always would rain in spring. Always.

Not only did he love the fact that rain was cleansing him, making him clean, washing his body from being around those filthy barbarians, but… It just felt so damn good.

Looking up as it fell on his face full force, he almost moaned. Nothing and certainly no one could make him feel like rain. Rain felt better than any lover. Rain tasted better than any lover. Rain tasted wonderful. He imagined that this was how others felt when being intimate with their boyfriends or girlfriends. Rain tasted like ecstasy. Rain tasted like power. Rain tasted like making love between sweat-stained sheets.

He could've let rain take him then and there.

But as his motions led him up the sidewalk to his home, and as he'd opened the door, he looked back up at the rain, forlornly.

'I'll be back again…' he thought as he entered.

The house was warm. A little too warm. He must've left the heater on before he left in the morning. Hearing the thunder and rain continue outside, he dropped his school supplies on the couch and walked briskly into the kitchen, plopping down at the table.

He arranged himself like he'd been at school. Face down on the table, cheek pressed against it, arms hanging down at his sides. And him facing the window and the rain. Teenagers were still walking down the streets, the sidewalks, going towards their homes. It wasn't ten minutes longer before a couple walked by, using an umbrella to shield themselves and hold hands in what the believed to be peace.

Ryou clinched his fists.

"Something needs to be done."

--

Your name is Death?

No, I am Death.

How can one… be… Death…?

Ask yourself.

… What?

Ask yourself how one can be Death. You may find you already know.