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

Warning: Character deaths, may contain disturbing themes. Rating may change.

Her Sweetness: It is the 23rd, ladies. And, as promised in my bio, everything will be updated today, please keep a look out.

—A Few Small Repairs—

Crashing:

Those gashes were deep. Bloody and raw and deep and they made Malik cringe whenever his friend touched them. Even though he was cleaning them, sanitizing them and bandaging the wounds, it hurt so much when his lower back was touched. All of the slashes ran from the right side of his lower back to the left side. They were each about the same size, about the width of a fingernail. Blood was splattered all over his backside and his pants had been drench in the blood as well, now not only streaks of crimson ran down his pant legs but rivers and streams, rushing.

He was so very lucky his companion was there. If not for him, he might've died from blood loss. If not for him, he'd be alone and scarred. If not for him, this would not have happened. Yes, he was so very lucky.

Malik was laying on his stomach on his companion's bed on the upper level of the house. It wasn't easy getting him up there as he could barely walk but once he was there, the boy began to take out peroxide and pour it over the Egyptian's back, and though the pain was intense, the after effect was cool and was soothing. The boy was careful, very, very careful as he bandaged the wounds. He wrapped the material around his lower back many times, softly and watched were his hands went, trying to avoid any unnecessary pain.

It was so quiet in that room. Not a word had been said since the incident downstairs and truthfully, both of them were afraid to speak, afraid to even breathe. That one question ran through both of their minds and so many fears that they shared, they refused to speak it.

Malik's head was on the side, facing away from his friend and towards the empty wall. He wanted desperately to look at the pale teen but then he knew he would have to talk to him, say something to comfort him. Maybe tell him everything was going to be okay. But how could he say anything like that when he wasn't convinced that it was true?

As he continued to wrap the bandages, his face continued to be masked by his dull-white bangs that hung in front of his eyes. His hands worked quickly and nimbly as if he'd done this a thousand times. As if he'd bandaged a thousand wounded friends. Wounded because of him and what lies inside him. He wanted to hold Malik so badly, wanted him to tell him that everything was fine, that he had forgiven him for what awful things he had created inside his mind and heart and had unleashed upon the world. All he needed were those soft, sweet words. He wanted to hear them, even if it was a lie. Even if nothing would ever be okay again, he just wanted that one simple lie.

His fingers tied the bandage tight. Tight, but not tight enough to hurt Malik. At least he hoped not. When it was all done, a beautiful, perfect bandage on top of horrible, ugly cuts and scrapes, the boy sat back and put his hands in his lap cautiously. It remained quiet as Malik kept starring at the wall and shadows covered both their faces. He pushed his silver bangs back and let his eyes wander up to Malik's blonde hair, a little messy but golden and starry nonetheless.

"I'm… I'm so sor—"

"D-Don't." The blonde teen's head rose and it drifted back down onto the sheets and pillows as he faced the boy who was already crying, streams running down his face and sniffles were heard. He looked up timidly at what Malik had just said. His eyes were a soft lavender and were melting under his own tears but he didn't let one fall down his face. He reached his hand out to touch the paler one that shook in the boy's lap and as he took his, lacing their fingers together, he continued, "It isn't your fault, Ryou… It really isn't anyone's fault."

He got down off of the stool he was sitting on and sat on the floor by the bed, never allowing his hand to break away from Malik's. He laid his head by his friend's and whispered through waterfalls that stained his face, "How can you say it's no one's fault…? H-How can you sit there and accept what's happened to you? How… how can you not hate me…?"

Malik shook his head, managing to prop himself up with his forearms. He winced at the sharp jolt of pain from his lower back but tried not to let it show. The boy sitting next to him watched as his lips move to form the most incredible sentence, "Let it go, Ryou. It was never your fault, let it go."

"Please… Malik, please yell at me…" He sobbed harder, clinching his hand with Malik's and rubbing his hand up against his cheek, "Yell at me, tell me that you hate me and that you can't stand my face… Please… Make sure I never forget how much I hurt you and how much you suffered because of me…"

"You didn't do anything—"

"I created him!" He shouted, wide eyes starring up at the Egyptian, "I made that monster, he's part of me! I hurt you! You can't pretend that it didn't happen… And please don't pretend that you could still care for me…"

"Ryou!"

"I can't control him! You shouldn't even be in here, it's dangerous, I don't want anything to happen to you, please believe me… But I can't stop him, I can't promise that you'll be okay if you stay around me…" He let his hand slip from under Malik's and turned his head away. Silence smothered the room as the only sound was once again the boy's quiet sobs and sniffles as he stood and rubbed the back of his neck feverishly, mumbling, "W-When you get your strength back, promise me you'll leave…"

He received no verbal answer and when he heard sounds of the bedsprings bouncing and a small but painful grunt, the boy whirled around, confused to see Malik now standing though there was a streak of pain on his face from being in an upright position. Before his companion had time to object to Malik's activity, he grabbed both the boy's hands with his own and pulled him closer, his arms settling on the pale, lithe waist and leaning in so they were cheek-to-cheek. The boy muttered, nuzzling up to him unknowingly, "Where're you doing…?"

"Nothing." He whispered back, moving one of his hands up the boy's side and twirling locks of silver around it before letting go completely and taking a painful step back, "I'm going to leave now."

"… But… you, ah, you can't! You can't walk like that, I never meant for you to leave now!"

Smiling, Malik picked up his shirt from on top of the bed, trying not to bend too much. He straightened again and, while hiding the pain on his face, put it on. The cold, cotton material almost felt good on his back. He turned and started for the door and down the stairs. When the pale teen heard those footsteps and heard them getting further away, he snapped out of what could've been a trance and almost ran down the stairs and into the living room. Malik stopped opening the door when he called out, "Malik, don't—"

"Ryou. Tomorrow, I want you to meet me in the park, alright?"

"…" He looked at the tanned boy for a moment before shaking his head lightly and fidgeting with his hands, "I can't do that, Malik…"

"It doesn't matter what you can't do. It's only a matter of doing it." Before the door closed all the way, he muttered, "See you there."

Starring at the wooden door, starring at it's small designs and splinters, he realized for the first time that the rain continued outside. Though it was not pounding like it had been earlier in the afternoon, he considered it beautiful. The darkness from night was a perfect background for the raindrops that came in groups, drizzling and splashing and dripping down the awning right outside the house. The stars were veiled in a mist and he wondered if his friend was going to get home alright. He looked down and even in the dark room he could see remnants of the most terrifying moments of his life.

The broken coffee table in ruins and wooden pieces that had broken off from it were scattered everywhere in the room, large and small pieces. The screwdriver… the screwdriver sitting innocently on the floor with rust covering it and spots of blood; his screwdriver. And over by the television on the other side of the room were streaks on the beautiful, white wall. Long, dark and ugly and red streaks. Angry marks of blood that slid from the wall and pooled on the carpet, staining it for the moment and for life; even if he did manage to clean it out of the carpet, he wondered if it would still remain in his and Malik's hearts. He knew he was to blame for what had happened and even though Malik said (or pretended to say) that it wasn't his fault it was only because it had appeared as if he had saved him.

But that was all a lie, he told himself as he sat on the couch, curling up to the soft pillows beside himself. It was all a lie. When had appeared strong, he was weak. When he had appeared in control, he was lost. And when he had appeared brave, he was afraid, very, very afraid. The screwdriver to his head and the promise to kill himself and being so close to Death and it's affects on his friend. He never thought Death would have backed down so easily and if he didn't back down… if he had killed Malik, would he be dead right now? Would his promise to kill himself been followed through?

After all, he was human, too. And no human likes Death.

.0.0.

It amazed him how weather changed. Everyday, something different was happening with the weather. Whether it was sunny or snowing or… raining. It amazed him how it changed and never failed to surprise him and even though he was happiest when it rained, he was content when it was like this as well. When the sky was overcast with gray and bleak looking rolls of clouds, topping one another and masking the sun. It was days like this that gave him hope for something more. Something more than what he'd been receiving. But a moment after that thought entered his mind, he'd mentally slap himself for thinking such things. Despite everything that happened, there was one thing he had that was something more. One thing that made everything else alright.

Which was why he was here.

In one of the most crowded places in all the city, in the park, he was standing and waiting for that one reason. And though he hated this place when it was like this, crowded and noisy, he remained standing under the large oak tree in the center of the place, looking for any signs of his reason. He had been here for maybe a few minutes already and what surprised him even more than the fact he came was the fact that he didn't think he stood out. He wore a dark blue jacket over a white t-shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly. And, looking around, he saw that several others had on similar outfits. But he stopped noticing them after hearing his name called in that voice that he'd grown so fond of.

He whirled around and gasped, finding himself with two bronze arms around his waist and starring into pools of soft lavender. Malik smiled, letting his hands drift slowly from the boy's waist and back down to his own sides. "Hey, Ryou."

"Hi…" He said, relaxing and leaning his head against the tree's bark and twirling a lock of his hair around one of his fingers lazily, "Are you… surprised that I showed up?"

Malik smirked, shaking his head, "No. No, I knew you would. I'm sorry I'm arriving a little late though, I had to pick up something… Have you been waiting long?"

"No. I just got here about five minutes ago myself." He let go of his hair and sighed, looking out at the green meadows beside them and how shiny it was; even in the early afternoon, signs of yesterday's storms were still in sight. He turned back to the teen, "Um… is there any reason you wanted to meet me here?"

Without replying, Malik took his friend's hand gently, not squeezing at all as he led the boy away from the center of the park. They walked back and into the small forest just in front of the lake where the trees were more numerous and lush. It seemed that spring was bringing a lot of things to life. The sun still remained hidden behind throbbing, gray clouds as they emerged on the other side of the trees right in front of a body of water, black rails surrounding most of it to prevent people from falling in. They stopped at the fence and Malik put his arms over it, his back to the water as the other boy stood there, looking out at it and then back to Malik with a confused look on his face.

He blinked and laid a hand on the ebony railing, letting his fingers rub against the rust on the tip of it. It had probably been there for a while, he guessed, the decay on it was turning an angry red color and the black paint was chipping off. He ran his fingers over the tip of it again, the rustiest part, letting it dirty his pale fingers and rub it's filthy exterior on him. He shivered, repeating his motions.

Malik tilted his head to the side a little more, almost craning his neck to get a better look at what it was his friend was occupying himself with. He was fully engrossed in the fence, in touching it and looking at it, but Malik had no idea why. It was times like these when he wondered what the boy was thinking. Times like these when he was quiet and looking at something with his face as it was now, stoic and the life from his eyes seemed to drain, that very sweetness and happiness that once shone through chocolate vats now turned to brown stones, brown water that ran deeper than could possibly be imagined.

As his finger ran over the top again, Malik put his hand down on top of the boy's, stopping the movement and his head jerked up, coming out of his trance. He removed his hands from the fence quickly and stuffed them in his pockets, looking away as if ashamed or embarrassed to be caught in his own world. His eyes darted to the water and then to Malik as he muttered, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head, "You've never had anything to apologize for, Ryou. Don't say your sorry when you haven't done anything." When nothing was said from the paler of the two, Malik lowered his voice, "I'm not mad at you, Ryou."

He nodded slowly and let out a breath, trying to calm himself. He'd been crying for days and he just wanted it to stop. He didn't feel like letting his emotions go out here where it was so calm, all he wanted to do now was be with Malik. He turned and let his eyes settle on his friend and the way he was standing. Blinking, the boy gasped, "Malik, your back! How can you…?"

Malik smiled once again and turned around, lifting his blue shirt and revealing ugly scars and stitches. When he heard a little whimper from his friend, he put his shirt back down and held the boy's hand, "It's okay… When my sister saw my back she rushed me to the hospital and they gave me stitches. So I feel better today and after a while, it'll be like it never happened. But… I don't want to talk about this right now… I want to talk about you now. Were you alright last night? Nothing… happened, did it?"

He starred at him for a moment before lowering his eyes, "You mean did he… No, I was left alone last night. I-I didn't even hear his voice."

"… You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Ryou, but I'd really like to know what he does to you. What happens when you do hear his voice or if he… can come out of you like yesterday." Malik shook his head, scratching his neck and sighing, "I'm sorry, I don't really know what I'm asking anymore. W-What I wanted to ask is just if… if he hurts you…"

"…" He nodded and looked out towards the lake and up at the sky, "Hurt… he hurts me but… not physically. It's more like the things he says that gets me and the way he talks to me. He used to ask me questions that I didn't understand and I got angry that I couldn't answer… or wasn't able to answer. He tells me things like what I should do and I don't know why but it changes the way I make decisions… But the worst was yesterday when I was asleep. He told me that you… didn't care about me and that you would hurt me."

At this, Malik's eyes narrowed and he could feel himself getting warmer from the inside. He waited for the boy to continue. "He told me that you would abandon me and that the only person who truly cared for me was him… I think… he likes to irk me, make me mad so I'll cry or… H-He likes it when I'm mad… Makes it easier for him to take over. In my dreams, I can feel him touching me and I can hear him repeat that he's in love with me… But yesterday… it felt like he was raping me from the inside out, like he was ripping himself from me…" He stopped and swallowed hard, still trying to keep the emotions at bay and trying to be strong. He looked at Malik who's eyes were hidden with the shadows of gold. Whispering, he leaned in, "I never want to be hurt like that again."

Hours passed on that lake. And those two stayed there for those hours and it felt like they were the only ones there. With time they exchanged words rapidly and then there were long whiles of silence when they couldn't find anything to say. In the middle of talking there might've been a time when one began to cry and sobbed on the other, the other boy gladly holding him and whispering things that would not have been recognized by any other person on earth. When tear-stained confessions came out of the blue, they were mute and rung only in the ears of the other. Maybe, in those few hours, no one else was alive. Maybe, in those few hours, the world had died and there was only one thing each boy needed to survive. Food wasn't wanted, water was forgotten about and somewhere along the line, they lost themselves in each other's eyes.

By the time that the world started to spin again, the sun had come from out of the clouds and was red, throwing the rest of the sky into a cascade of orange and purple and it was well on it's way to leaving for the day, the water beneath it shining and waves splashed against the pier about thirty feet away from where they stood.

Malik looked towards the sun and squinted, gently easing the boy's arms from around his neck and smiling, "I have to go, Ryou, I promised my sister… Oh, but before I do, here." He dug into his back pocket and handed to the boy a small and white card.

He blinked, taking it and reading it silently for a moment before saying quietly, "A psychiatrist…?"

Almost beaming at him, Malik reached up and tucked a few loose strands of silver hair behind the boys' ear and nodded, "That's where I was today, I made to an appointment for you."

The boy's eyes were wide as his hands started to tremble, the little card shook in the same rhythm. He shook his head slightly and said, almost disbelievingly, "I… You think I'm crazy?"

"What? No, Ryou, that's not what this is about! It's about getting you help!" Malik held the boy's shaking hands and steadied them, bringing them closer to his chest, "You said yourself that you never wanted to be hurt like that again. Ryou, I don't want anything to happen to you, I've only ever wanted to help. Please say you'll go, I'll go with you. I'll be right next to you, just… please go, Ryou."

After looking in lavender for a moment or two, brown eyes lowered and he nodded his head, letting his arms go limp in Malik's hands. Malik smiled, gently letting go of the boy's hands and started to walk away, waving and saying, "Ten o' clock, tomorrow, the address is on the card. I'll be right there with you, Ryou."

When he was gone, when his form could no longer be seen through the trees, the pale teen nodded again under a blood-red sky, "Right there with me…"