Notes: The chapter titles are songs by Metallica, Megadeth, etc. I'll put a full list of who they're by at the end, but listen to No Leaf Clover because it rocks muchly. I skipped work to read Shiro Ryuu's fics and write this, so now I must spend all night typing so I don't feel as guilty.
DreamingChild – He gets to have fun for about five minutes in this one… I feel quite sorry for poor Bakura now.
Black Thorns and White Tears – You'll find out what's going on in Seto's head nearer the end, and Ryou and Mokuba aren't as hard to imagine as I thought they'd be. I was all worried about it, but they're not in here much anyway so I guess it doesn't matter.
Shiro Ryuu – You made me skip work to read that fic of yours with Sieg and Seto. I loved the end, Seto was so cute! You read this at work? I write most of it at work, so that fits. I wish I actually did have a fried rice fairy, I'm living on egg noodles and vodka milkshakes this week.
Bellebelle3 – Well, he's not really coping as such… You'll see!
Poor Twisted Me – 4
I've been here a week and in that time I've managed to get lost twice and break a rib. Well, I didn't break it, Seto did, and it hurt a lot. It felt remarkably like being stabbed, actually.
I've figured out that Seto doesn't like seeing Ryou and Mokuba displaying any sort of affection for each other. Every time he sees them so much as hold hands and I'm there he gives me this look, and the moment he catches me alone I get to play my new favourite game. This involves me dodging a lot but eventually getting caught and introduced to the business end of Seto's fist. This is so fucking pathetic, I can't believe I'm not allowed to kill him. He's driving me insane, I can't deal with being forced to take things like this and I can feel my careful little mental balance tipping like a sinking ship.
I'm starting to forget things, which probably isn't a good sign. That happened before, and he's going to regret it if he does this much longer – I really want to kill him and I'm not known for my self-restraint when I lose it. Some days I'd like to be normal.
My side hurts because of the cracked rib, and I have to pretend I'm still fine for the kids. I could be an abused housewife, I definitely fucking cook enough. Thankfully I heal fast, and it's been a few days since the whole rib-cracking incident so it's healing up nicely now. It doesn't hurt too much any more, I could hardly walk the first day. I just crawled into bed and told Ryou I had a cold so he'd leave me alone. He gave me painkillers for the imaginary headache, which really helped with my side. Even though I could probably have used something a little stronger, like maybe morphine. Fuck, I want to murder him.
I'm getting drunk tonight. This morning he walked into the kitchen while I was making myself breakfast and of course I mouthed off at him, because I'm smart like that. I'm not letting him beat me into being some meek little mouse, cringing every time he comes near me. Screw that.
So, because Ryou and Mokuba were out I didn't have to be quiet and I ended up screaming a while shitload of things at him. I think I threw a mug at him too, and he just watched me like it was really interesting then walked out. No punching, no insults; he just left.
I hate being confused more than anything, so I just stared at the door for about half an hour and imagined the brand new crack appearing in my sanity. Then I sort of laughed a bit, and decided to get drunk so I don't have to think about anything.
I would've started drinking right then and there – screw breakfast – but my light and Mokuba came back, and the pharaoh was with them. I spent the entire day avoiding talking to that royal prick, but now he's finally given up on getting me alone and left, since it's after nine. Mokuba and Ryou went to watch a movie in bed, so I raided the cupboards for any alcohol I could find. It took me a while, but I eventually found out where Seto keeps it and commandeered a bottle of vodka, which I relocated to the back garden. There's this little porch thing with an outdoor heater, so now I'm sitting under it on a deckchair, drinking vodka and coke, singing. It's in my language again because I miss hearing it, and I may not be the world's greatest singer (I sound like a woman) but this is a drinking song so it doesn't matter. I'm actually pretty happy now that the alcohol is kicking in – I think hearing a song that I last heard around a campfire in the middle of the desert helped. I remember singing it to my horse, and I burst out laughing because I can see it so clearly, even after all this time. I can even remember the feeling of sand beneath my feet, the clean air and being able to see the stars well because there was no light but the dying campfire for miles. Even the stars are not in the same places now, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I only get homesick and nostalgic when I'm drunk or thinking too much. Or when I'm ill, because I never got ill back then.
I lean back in my chair and smile to myself, glad that I have this heater to keep me warm. Back in the desert I had a red cloak, such bright colours were hard to get and it was very expensive. I didn't pay for it of course, but I still really liked it. I miss that, I could probably buy ten now but they wouldn't be the same because that one was not meant for people like me, yet I had it anyway.
"So here you are. I was wondering what that noise was, I wasn't aware there were any women in the house."
Yes, I sound like a girl. Does he think I don't know this? I ignore him and knock back the rest of my drink, sitting forward to pour another one. Seto is standing in front of my chair, ruining my fun as usual. He always turns up at the exact moment I don't want him near me, I think he's the anti-Christ or something. Yes, I know modern religions.
If there's one thing I've learnt about Seto, it's that he hates being ignored. I do it to him a lot, just because I know he doesn't like it. One day I'll write an instruction manual for him or something. 'How to Operate Seto Kaiba.' Heheh.
"Something funny?" He asks, because I'm snickering into my drink.
"Yes. Now fuck off." I say, and I think the first instruction should be 'do not tell him to fuck off, he does not take this well.'
He growls and leans down, then lifts me out of my seat by the front of my shirt. I need to stop wearing shirts so he can stop picking me up by them. I think then he'd just use my throat, though. He punches me in the jaw and my head snaps back, which hurts my neck. I give him a bloody grin and laugh, then throw the rest of my drink at him. There's not much left (it'd be a shame to waste vodka on him) but it's enough to get the front of his shirt wet and piss him off even more. He grabs my wrist and I drop the glass, which lands on the grass next to the paved area I was drinking on. It doesn't smash, which is nice.
My side throbs as he raises my wrists up level with my head and his grip tightens around them. It gets tighter and tighter, and he's waiting for me to give in and show him that it hurts. He's watching me closely with a cold smirk on his face and it does hurt, but I don't want him to know that. The drink is dulling the pain a little but I still feel like both my arms are about to break – I'm going to have some really pretty bruises from this one.
"Hurt?" He asks, and that's a fucking stupid question. Ra, this is painful, I'm shaking with the effort of not showing it. I turn my head to the side to spit out the blood in my mouth from when he punched me, then I look at him again and grin. I want to scream, his thumbs are pressing right into my wrists and my fingers are curled into shaking claws because it hurts so much.
"Not really," I finally answer him, and I'm annoyed through the agony because my voice broke. "So how was your day?" I manage, still grinning up at him.
"Stressful." He hisses, and increases the pressure. My knees give up like a pair of fucking pussies and I collapse to kneel in front of him. He lets me go so as not to get dragged down with me, and I gasp in relief at having my wrists freed but don't take my eyes off him. I don't really want to see the black and green bruises that I know are starting to form on my arms – I'm going to be wearing long-sleeved shirts for the next few days.
He seems to be waiting for me to do something, so I ignore the first thing that pops into my head (kill him!), blank out the second completely (fuck him!) and go with the third (drink more!). I reach out and pick up the glass from where it fell, amazed that I can still use my hands, and fill it up again from the bottles on the ground next to my chair. It hurts quite a bit to grip anything or make a fist, but I expect it'll hurt a lot more tomorrow so I'll save my complaining until then.
Once I've poured my drink I sit cross-legged on the paved ground and look up at him curiously as I start drinking it, wondering what he's still doing here. I stretch a little, feeling a throbbing pain in my side, and suddenly I can't remember why it hurts. This worries me for a moment, but it soon fades and I decide it isn't that important anyway.
"Are you going to sit out here all night?" He looks down at me with a frown and I give him a really demented giggle, because I'm drunk and sore and he's a bastard and I don't care if it doesn't make sense.
"You are so fucking tall." I tell him, because he's towering over me all big and dark and threatening, like fucking Batman or something.
"I'm aware of that." He says, and he's somewhere between amused and annoyed.
"Batman's tall, right?" I ask in a dazed voice, and I think now that the adrenaline rush is wearing off the vodka is hitting me like a sledgehammer.
"I have no idea." He's looking at me like I'm stupid. I'm not stupid, I'm just drunk and I can't make myself shut up, which is a problem.
"If pharaoh saved the world from…uh, me, does that make him a superhero?" I ask, wondering if he counts. He did have a cloak, back in the desert. Mine was better than his, but I don't think I'd be a very good hero. I don't like most people enough to want to save them from things.
"I doubt it." Seto leans against the wall of the house and folds his arms, watching me as I drink myself into a coma.
"I hate the pharaoh," I mutter, yawning. "He won't leave me alone 'cause I used to sleep with him back in… back in…" I trail off, then remember what my country is called in his language. "Egypt."
Seto looks surprised at this, but I'm getting sleepy so ignore it and drain the rest of my drink, then curl up on the stone floor and close my eyes. I've slept on worse before, and the heater is still on so it isn't so bad.
"You'll ache in the morning," Seto points out to me, and I hear him move to go back inside.
"I know," I mumble, thinking about my bruised arms as I drift off to sleep.
TBC
You wouldn't think Bakura was my favourite character with all the crap I put him through, but he's fun to torment.