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

Warnings: This will get very angsty in later chapters, sometimes gory so this is not for the faint of heart. Also, this is AU. (My first AU story, wee!)

Her Sweetness: I had HUGE writer's block! I just couldn't write a single word on this, it was terrible, I'm so sorry… So, please, I know it's late; don't flog me…

— Everybody, Everybody —

Chapter Ten

It wasn't there. Bakura had searched everywhere in the city's phonebook after he had returned home but there was no Marik Ishtar on any of the pages. He had gained some control over himself after leaving the vicinity of the police station, enough control to get home safely and remind himself that he had not looked in the phonebooks. But now that he had and there was no Marik Ishtar, he was at wit's end.

What could be happening to Ryou?

Bakura found it hard to breathe then and he seated himself in the living room, in a chair next to the cream-colored sofa. There was nothing he could think of but Ryou, all he could see was that angelic face and all he could worry about was never seeing it again, never feeling him again. Too much had gone away, he thought. With Ryou gone, his whole world had gone away.

He didn't want to cry again. Not anymore. But with his baby brother gone, who would be here to hold his tears in? He could not do that on his own. That was not something he wanted to do on his own. But what could he do now? Hadn't he done everything he could? To find Ryou?

Bakura turned his head to the small table beside the chair. A small telephone was standing there, untouched for so long because no one ever came into the living room. His hand drifted over the cradle, hovering over it uncertainly.

Not everything.

His hand dropped and before he knew it, numbers were being dialed and the receiver was to his ear. Ringing once, twice, three times. This is crazy, he thought. They're never going to pick up. Never. I was crazy for even thinking they'd help. Neither of them would believe me. They don't care. They don't care about me, about Ryou, about us.

The ringing stopped and a recording began.

Bakura set the phone back down without leaving a message. That was a waste of time.

That was just a waste of time.

-

The sun set over the downtown though it was not as clear and beautifully blood-red as it had been the night before. If it had not been for the clock that continued to tick relentlessly in Marik Ishtar's living room, the sunset would not even have been noted. The outside was dreary with rain, the drops tapping against the windowpanes all over the house.

Besides the sound of pitter-patter on the awnings of the apartment building and the near-soundless ticking of the clock, one other sound was present in the room. Soft cries; like an injured animal in distress, tiny whimpers continued to come from Ryou Bakura as he lay on the floor of the living room. He faced away from the couch, on his side, his hands fisted into balls and he squeezed them involuntarily.

Hot tears had fallen and streaked down his face, leaving dried trails now in their wake. His gasps for breath were slowing as he no longer shouted out, losing his breath, but was and had, for the last five minutes, been rather sedate.

Marik, still crouching behind the teen kept watch over him. The last thing he'd said was: Why did we hurt each other? Marik really had no idea what it meant but somehow he thought that the question was not meant for him. Since then Marik was at a loss for what to do. He thought that if he were to move towards Ryou, attempt to hold or comfort him, that he might insight another fit.

However the silent breathing and deafening rain from outside was all but driving him mad. There must be something he could say to the boy without receiving a negative reaction. He lifted his hand to his cheek. The smack that he had gotten from Ryou didn't hurt. It barely caught his face.

But still.

But still…?

Marik cleared his throat and noticed that Ryou did not flinch. This was a good sign, he thought. Before he could say anything else to try and further his good fortune, he felt something beside him. He was not all that surprised to turn and see Fake Ryou sitting next to him. They both sat with their legs tucked under themselves, their hands placed firmly on their knees. Fake Ryou was fully dressed, wearing the same thing that Ryou was, a pair of Marik's jeans and a large blue shirt.

His lavender eyes flickered to the Fake One for a moment and he blushed lightly before turning back to Ryou. He did not want to speak to him and scare Ryou even more than he must've been.

Fake Ryou knew this and said stoically, 'Someone to love Ryou Bakura. That is who you want to be… right, Marik Ishtar? You want to be his someone?'

A chord in Marik's heart was tugged at. He kept his breathing steady and nodded, his gaze never wavering from the true Ryou's shivering form. Though the movement was slight, Fake Ryou noticed it and smiled. It was not the gentle, placid one he was so famous for in Marik's mind. Marik's lavender eyes shifted and saw a grim, chiseled curve of the Fake One's lips. Fake Ryou remained quiet when the whisper filled the room.

"Marik Ishtar… you know a secret that only my big brother and I shared for the longest time. For the longest time, it's been just us knowing… That secret that I told you, it was an ugly one. But… but no secret is beautiful," Ryou did not turn to face Marik but instead spoke in a hushed tone to the wall. Marik found that he had to almost strain to hear Ryou's voice. "I felt regret about you finding out… But now I don't think I can regret."

Marik swallowed a small lump in his throat and tried to speak. Words came though they were hoarse. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean…" Ryou shifted on the floor. "I want to tell you another secret. Why my brother is so adamant about me not giving any more favors for grades. Why he cried when I walked away…"

Silence.

"My brother and I are lovers, Marik Ishtar. Have been since our fourteenth summer."

Ryou waited seemingly for Marik's reaction. A startled cry, a surprised gasp, something. But no, there was no cry, no gasp. Marik's side of the room was quiet. Ryou tilted his head and saw that Marik starred at him, lavender eyes vacant but his hands fidgeted in each other.

Fake Ryou was still.

Finally there was a sigh. Marik rubbed the back of his hand with the palm of the other. "I… I don't know what to say…"

"… Say you feel sorry for me."

Marik's gaze jerked away from his lap. "What?"

Ryou's deep brown eyes faded as thick lashes came over them. His hands found their way to his arms and he rubbed them vigorously, trying to warm himself from the coldness he felt in the room. He swallowed and, at last, turned his entire body around to face Marik Ishtar. He was not worried or afraid of seeing tears welling in the blonde's eyes. He was past worrying for Marik Ishtar. Far past that.

"Say you feel sorry for me," He repeated and feigned a small chuckle. "I mean… it's not as if I chose to become his… h-his…"

Fake Ryou's eyes widened and so did his smile though maybe he tried to hide it. His lips cracked and twisted until it was a chiseled smirk that verged on the definition of demonic and was foreign on that gorgeous face. Marik didn't notice it, his lilac orbs shiny and glossed over with a wall of saline water. He coughed to hide it and fight back the tears though he didn't really know why he was crying.

Why was he crying?

Losing Ryou Bakura? Was that why?

Or was it…

The fight against the devilish smirk was being lost as well.

'Ryou,' the Fake One hummed.

A sob echoed from Ryou's throat; one kitten-like cry for help that filled the room with misery and sucked it all back in when the small echo ceased it's bouncing off the walls. He looked up, his hands fisted around his thin arms.

"Why couldn't he wait for me?" Ryou shouted, his voice as frail and cracking as his body. Marik's mouth hung open, a perfect circle as wide as his trembling eyes. "I loved him, I wanted Bakura just as badly as he wanted me! B-But I wasn't ready! I begged him to stop! I begged! There wasn't a second through the whole thing that I didn't look into his eyes and cry and plead for him to stop…

"But he didn't… His eyes were empty, nothing but lust in them… He just wanted to screw me, Marik. And after three years, I went along with him and we called ourselves lovers… Th… There was nothing I loved about that night." Ryou lay his head on the ground, his legs tucking themselves under his body. He shivered a bit and closed his eyes.

Marik shook his head. "Ry…"

"And he tells me he loves me."

"Ryou. I… I do love you. With all my heart; I want to take care of you…" His eyes flickered to Fake Ryou and then back to the real one. Real? "I won't let anything happen to you… please, trust me, Ryou."

"… You sound like Bakura," Ryou said with a tired sigh. "You sound like my teachers. You… sound like everybody. I won't repeat what happened that night. Not with you, not with anyone else. I know what you want me for, Marik Ishtar, I know why you look at me with those same empty eyes."

"No, that's not true," he urged.

Fake Ryou nodded eagerly.

That splintered smirk ripped itself apart until it was a hungry sneer, bright with anticipation.

Ryou's head lifted from the ground and he fixed his arms to support himself as he climbed to his knees, the same position Marik was in. His sobs and sniffles dwindled to small intakes of breath. His brown eyes were red around the edges and focused. "I didn't have the strength to fight him. I couldn't do it. But I won't let myself be used again, not again. I won't lose the second half of myself to you, Marik Ishtar…"

His gaze softened. "I won't let you be Bakura."

-

The car door slammed behind the teen as he exited his car for the fourth time that day. Though the rain was pounding on the earth now, Bakura barely felt the droplets hit his skin as he strode down the sidewalk and, soon, into the school. It was dark then, and almost all the building's lights were off but he knew a few teachers worked on the weekends, grading papers and such.

After twenty-four hours had passed, he'd looked at the clock but realized then that calling the police to start a missing person's report would be useless. It would take much too long and he then thought that Ryou was not the law's responsibility. He was Bakura's responsibility; Bakura's lover and little brother. There was no excuse for what he had let happen and he hoped this last resort would work.

The janitors had left the school's side door open for the teachers to come and go and that's the entrance he used to get inside. His clothes dripped with the fresh rain onto the newly buffed hallways as he made his way to the second floor.

A few lights were on in the hallways; random door-windows illuminated by the blue glares of the computers and the sounds of the continuous clicking of keys under weary fingers. Finally he arrived to room 3-2, his homeroom teacher's room. He remembered that Ryou said he and Marik Ishtar had the same homeroom period. Surely Ms. Sinclair would have some information on where Marik lived.

The door opened and he went inside, much to the surprise of the woman sitting at the desk at the front of the room, her fingers paused over the keys. She raised a thin eyebrow as he came inside, shutting the door behind himself.

"M-Mr. Bakura…" the woman was caught off-guard but quickly tried to regain her composure. "Well. I'm glad you finally showed up for school, however you seem to be confused. The building isn't open for students on the weekend and certainly not at crude times of the night."

Bakura didn't realize he'd been running down the halls and only noticed this when he lacked the breath to speak. After panting, he said, "I… I need for you to tell me Marik Ishtar's address. I know he's in your homeroom, so please, this is about my brother…"

She cocked her head to the side and blinked. "I don't know who you're talking about."

"Ah… M-Marik Ishtar, he's in your homeroom! Just give me his damn address and I'll leave!"

"Mr. Bakura, this may be the weekend but you're still talking to a teacher and I would advise you to change your tone." And with that, she turned back to the computer screen and began to type again.

Bakura's panting ceased all together and he walked from in front of the door to the other side of her desk where papers and clipboards were scattered over the wood. He began to ruffle through them much to the objection of Ms. Sinclair who had finally risen from her seat and ran over to him, shouting. He didn't pay attention and finally found what he was looking for. He held up the attendance roster for her homeroom class up to her and said with urgency, "Marik Ishtar. Look."

Before she could protest, he shoved it into her arms and, at last, she narrowed her eyes at the thing, pushing her glasses higher upon her nose. It was silent in the room for a moment as she flipped the page and then she blinked, breath caught.

"Marik Ishtar…" she spoke with quiet awe, "w-why was he on the next page? I've… been skipping him all year, I…" Ms. Sinclair fell back into her leather chair in front of the desk, staring down at the list and the one name that was on the opposite page of the rest of the class. "I have a student named Marik Ishtar…"

Bakura stopped for a second, his mind caught in it's inner workings. She didn't know?

He shook it off and turned her chair towards the computer screen. "Please, find his information, I need to contact him. My brother's with him."

She took in a small breath and, gradually, her hands replaced themselves on the keyboard.

-

Marik made that small sound that Ryou usually did. The little cry in the back of his throat. He was in way over his head, he thought. He loved Ryou Bakura, that was true but he didn't know what to do now. So many things he felt. Indescribable sadness for Ryou… and indescribable hatred towards Bakura. He had only ever said one word to Ryou's brother and that was all he could say then.

But now.

But now…?

He looked next to himself and saw that Fake Ryou had been sitting there patiently throughout the entire thing. But as he looked on at his hallucination, he noticed the odd and unfamiliar expression on his face. An eager and nasty grin that bared small, white fangs.

Marik faintly tilted his head to the left, sliding his hand across the floor. "F-Fake…"

'He hates him,' Fake Ryou's appearance did not waver, but in fact, intensified.

Ryou let out a weak cough on the other side of the room and Marik turned his head. Ryou spoke, "I… I'm going to have to deal with my brother myself. Everything he put me through up until now… I didn't know that I couldn't stand it. I didn't know how bad he was hurting me everyday…"

'He hates his brother,' excitement in the sweetheart's voice.

Marik Ishtar's head began to dizzy as Ryou started to cry again. He looked to his left and tears filtered through Fake Ryou's eyes as well but that retched smirk still remained. The Fake One crawled over the rug to Ryou's side and lent his head tenderly on the crying boy's hip. Ryou continued to sob into his hands.

Marik shook his head. "W-What…"

Fake Ryou laughed mirthlessly, tangling one of his fingers around a lock of silver hair. 'Marik Ishtar… Ryou Bakura is in need of a someone…'

Ryou sobbed. "Why won't he quit…"

To be continued…