A/N: The only reason this chapter is done on time is because I have absolutely nothing else to do at my niece's birthday party with 25 small evil children. I've been preparing for Halloween, which is my absolute favorite holiday—it's better than Christmas, so I might not get chapters out as quickly, especially closer to the end of October. I'll try my best though. ^_^

Chapter 9: The Next Couple Days

The knocking on his bedroom door roused Bakura from sleep. The sky outside his window was light and a bird chirped pleasantly: a merry tune that was the complete opposite of how Bakura felt. His head ached; his arm ached. He flexed his forearm, slightly repulsed as the dried blood cracked along his skin. The deeper cut reopened with an extra twinge of pain. A drop of blood bubbled up. He exhaled.

The knocking continued. "What?" He chose to ignore the slightly scratchy tone of his voice.

"Um...I wanted to apologize for last night..." Bakura glared at the door Ryou stood on the other side of. His ears picked up the sound of metal creaking. He glanced at the doorknob, which was turning. His eyes widened, and his heart sped up in his chest. Bakura pulled down his sleeve over his hand, and lunged for the other side of the room in one fluid motion.

Bakura let his dark bangs fall in front of his eyes as Ryou entered the room. Ryou was too busy looking at his feet to notice any strange reaction from Bakura. "I, um, I felt sick yesterday, and I thought, you know?"

Bakura sneered at the obvious attempt at a lie. "Whatever you say, landlord." He gathered a set of uniform clothes with his uninjured arm. "I'm taking a bath," he announced, leaving Ryou alone in his room.

A questioning murmur made him stop abruptly on his path to the bathroom. Ryou kneeled against the floor, near the door frame. His card! He must've dropped it sometime last night as he watched he blood trickle down his arm. Bakura was at Ryou's side before he could pluck the card from the floor.

"It's just a card," he said gruffly. He grabbed the card from the floor, taking it with him to the bath.

Bakura plopped himself into a chair at the kitchen table, hair still soaked with droplets of water, as Ryou set a plate of food in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow at the single plate.

"I'm eating," Ryou said, defensiveness coloring his speech. He grabbed a bowl of soup from the counter, eating whilst leaning against the cabinets.

Bakura speared some vegetables. "Course you are." His plate included a colorful array of vegetables and proteins, solid healthy foods, while Ryou's soup, Bakura noticed with each spoonful Ryou ate, was watered down and mostly broth.

Ryou sulked out of the kitchen after finishing, parting with words that soured Bakura's mood, "We need to leave soon."

Bakura glowered at his breakfast, acutely aware of the card jammed into his pants pocket and the stinging beneath his shirt sleeve. Sarcastic diatribes ran through his mind. He curled his lips at Ryou's retreating figure clothed in his oversized, baggy uniform. No shit they needed to leave soon, especially, as Ryou implied, because he had bathed this morning.

Not long after Ryou locked himself inside the bathroom, drowning out any noise with the running bath water, Bakura slammed the apartment door shut and stomped towards the fire escape stairwell. His impromptu bath this morning must've thrown off Ryou's barfing schedule. He shot a venomous look at an older lady from their floor that deigned to stare at him for longer than the polite few seconds.

He walked out of the building, hands fisted deep in his uniform pockets and arms tense. His arm hurt from last night, and he channeled that pain as he stalked through the neighborhood, walking in the opposite direction from his usual school route.

The May weather, hot and humid with the promise of rain in the near future, made trickles of sweat drip down his back between his shoulder blades, but he hardly noticed the discomfort as he marched past a small play park about fifteen minutes from Ryou's apartment. The slight breeze seemed to nestle deep within the confines of his head, disrupting thoughts with gentle swirls.

After the short walk, Bakura felt grounded, rooted almost; he was able to put aside the occasional twinges along his arm.

Until Marik's voice shattered the relative peace. "You do know you're going the wrong way?" A question uttered in a nasal voice as Marik pitched his voice to sound more patronizing.

Bakura glared, expressing the anger he still felt after Marik's betrayal in Battle City. His eyes narrowed as he noticed Yugi and Yami tagging along: Marik's newest allies. He swallowed back bile that slicked the back of his throat and curled his hands into fists. The flashes of pain throbbing along the gash from the night before flared.

"Really," he drawled in a dead pan voice, "I didn't know."

Bakura stepped back into his former walking gait as he felt the presence of another person infringing in his personal space. He swiveled around, narrowly escaping Yami's grip that threatened to enclose his cut up arm.

"What?" he snarled to cloak the panic at the edges of his voice.

"Aren't you coming?" Yami asked. He cocked his head like a predator stalking its prey.

Bakura scowled back. He ran his fingers through his hair, anything to keep his fingers from inching up his sleeve so overtly. "No, got a problem with that, your highness?"

Yami bristled; Bakura noticed at the edges of his vision as he turned abruptly and marched off. He let his fingers brush against his injured arm as he heard Yugi chime in. "Leave it be, guys."

"What?" Yami exclaimed. "Just let him do as he pleases?"

"I wonder why he's…" Marik's question trailed off as Bakura walked out of hearing range. The last thing he heard from the group was Yugi's voice, a soft murmur that rang of sincere empathy.

Bakura cringed and cast off anything he felt. After last night, he felt justified in his contentment as he walked further and further away from Domino High.

The sun dipped beneath the farther off skyscrapers of the city, turning everything golden as Bakura approached the apartment he shared with Ryou. After hours of walking wherever his feet led him in random directions, the tightness in his chest and his heavy heart had lifted. He breathed easier, mind at ease.

As day turned to dust, the cold spring night settled around him, Bakura forgot why he remained clothed in long sleeves. Schools hadn't yet switched to the summer uniforms, carrying out the outdated policy to a metaphoric T, but the weather called for looser, cooler clothes.

The climate controlled air of the apartment's entryway first floor assaulted him. The heat served as a reminder that summer was fast approaching. Bakura's insides squirmed, a feeling he desperately tried to ignore, shoving it away into a dark recess of his mind. He had no idea how to cope with the impending heat wave; he acutely remembered past summers.

The lone rider on the elevator, Bakura allowed himself to roll down his uniform sleeve and stare at his arm, at the multitude of crisscrossing scars, and cuts in various stages of healing.

He flattened the sleeve back over his wrist. Resolute finality silenced his concern: no way in hell would Bakura ever reveal his arm. It was as simple as that.

He slipped off his shoes and stepped up into the kitchen of Ryou's apartment, taking in the spotless appliances, completely empty of any cooking attempt. Not that Ryou would be put out by not eating, Bakura reminded himself.

He flopped down on the couch, ignoring the annoyance that emanated from Ryou, who sat, curled up sideways, in the armchair, reading a book. "Where have you been?" He asked as he flipped the page in his book.

Bakura shrugged, unconcerned that Ryou wasn't actually looking at him. "Take it you weren't hungry?" Bakura shot back, an accusation. He gestured at the perfectly clean kitchen; Ryou glared down at the book nestled on his lap.

"I've been home for hours," Ryou said hotly, and Bakura remembered today was Saturday. Ryou must've been home alone since early afternoon. He refused to let his cheeks flush.

Ryou's silent reprimand about Bakura skipping school hung in the air. He ended the passive aggressive fight with, "We have to meet Kaiba tomorrow at Yugi's, so don't forget."

Bakura, in reply, jumped off the couch and flung himself down the short hallway, locking himself in his bedroom.

The walk to the Mouto residence the next morning was completely silent, with Ryou swinging between dread that Bakura knew about him and hopeful bliss that Bakura's ignorance about his condition and anger upon discovering it, would prevent the thief from telling anyone. With Bakura's absence at school yesterday, the consequences had been delayed.

Luckily or unluckily. He pursed his lips as he mused, going over the same repetitive thoughts. He shouldn't be doing this. Logical, he knew that. Up until the spirits' sudden returns to their life, he had been coping, he'd been dealing.

Not even a week after, found him in a repeat of last summer. His eyes burned and he blinked back the tears. Ryou reassured himself that it wasn't that bad yet…

Bakura stared ahead, eyes level with distant scenery, his preferred method of 'staring at the ground.' He inwardly cringed at the thought of displaying such an overt weakness in front of Ryou. The cuts he had made last night after locking himself behind his bedroom door still stung as the fabric of his sleeve stretched over his forearm.

He bit back the calming sigh that worked its way from his throat. He let the pain drown out the tumbling myriad of raw emotions coursing through his veins, making his blood boil.

They stopped in front of the living quarters of Kame Game shop, and Ryou rang the doorbell. The door swung open revealing a chipper Yugi. Bakura caught sight of the Pharaoh and Marik and his scowl deepened.

"Hey Ryou, Bakura. Kaiba should be here soon." Yugi said as he stepped back to allow them to enter.

"Rich boy will lower his standards to meet here?" The cruel words cut through the room before Bakura realized what he said. He flopped on the couch, repressing a hiss as his injured arm smacked against a cushion.

Marik glanced over from the armchair he shared with Yugi. "You should be more respectful, Bakura."

Acrid bile coated Bakura's throat as the insult stopped him cold. He flexed his fingers without considering what he was doing and nestled himself further into the couch cushions. He half wondered if he could suffocate in the thick fabric. "Fuck off," he snapped.

Ryou slumped to the floor, sitting against the couch Bakura claimed. Yami glowered down at Bakura from where he stood behind the armchair.

"You could make room for Ryou," he commented, looking down his nose at Bakura. He propped his elbows on the top of the armchair.

Bakura curled his hands into fists, halting the soothing repetition of curling and uncurling his fingers. He looked down at Ryou. "He's fine."

"Yami, I am fine," Ryou reassured from his spot. He had curled up upon himself, knees folded to his chest and arms reaching around to lock himself in that position. He followed the conversation with his eyes as his head rested against his knees.

A knock on the door as the clocked chimed the new hour, prevented Yami from retorting or bodily removing Bakura from the couch, where he remained burrowed into the cushions. Yami opened the door, and let Kaiba walk into the room.

The CEO sat in the sole empty space, the other armchair parallel to the couch where Bakura laid. Bakura quirked an eyebrow, but otherwise did not acknowledge Kaiba as he crossed his legs and greeted the group with an unconcerned sneer.

"Would you like some tea?" Yugi asked, pushing himself out of the armchair. He headed to the kitchen at Kaiba imperceptible nod.

They sat in silence until Yugi returned with six mugs and a kettle of tea with the fixings all balanced on a platter. He poured a cup for Kaiba first, offering the small plate of sugar, lemon rind, and cream, then moved to Ryou, Bakura, Marik, Yami, and finally himself.

Once they were seated with their steaming tea mugs, Kaiba opened with an informal question, "You wanted to meet me?"

Yugi nodded towards Ryou, but the boy just stared forlornly into his green tea and the floating lemon peel, before taking it upon himself to speak. "Yeah, we just wanted to make sure everything is okay financially? Do you need anything?"

Kaiba smirked around his tea mug. He set the porcelain cup down on the coffee table. "And what can you give me?" he asked with a nasty sneer.

Bakura made to speak, springing into a sitting position, and Ryou quickly jumped up to silence him. Bakura collapsed back down against the cushions. He ground his teeth together against the pins and needles sensation numbing his lips.

"I know we can't offer much, Kaiba," Ryou said, cutting off Bakura's ugly slur before he spoke it. "But whatever we can do. We are really grateful."

Marik chimed, "Especially me. You're providing me with a life." He meant a life outside of his tomb keeping duty, which Kaiba was already familiar with.

Yami also nodded fiercely from where he towered above Yugi. Kaiba glanced at Bakura lounging on the couch, "And what about you?" he questioned darkly, not so subtly basking in his rivals' coerced humbleness.

This time, Bakura spoke before Ryou had an opportunity to quiet him. "I have nothing to say to you, you bastard." He crossed his arms in defiance.

Kaiba stared, mouth gapping like a fish, his lips flapping as he tried to formulate a response. After a long moment, he slammed down his mug of tea, the remaining liquid sloshing against the ridged contours of the cup, grabbed his briefcase, and stalked out, slamming the door on his way.

The remaining occupants turned to openly glare at Bakura. "What?" he snapped, throwing his legs off the couch (Ryou ducked away from the sudden action) and harshly sitting up.

Yami was the first to cross the room. He grabbed Bakura by the collar of his shirt, forcing the thief to stand up. In retaliation, Bakura grabbed Yami's arms, the tight grip of his fingers pressed in Yami's upper arms sure to leave bruises.

"What is your problem?" Yami snarled. Bakura grinned. He shoved Yami back, letting him smack his head against the coffee table as the tea cups fell to the floor at the abrupt motion. The carpet soaked up the rivulets of liquid and cushioned the impact from table to floor.

Bakura grinned at his apparent victory, until Marik stepped in, offering Yami a hand as he spoke to Kaiba's defense. "Look, I don't like Kaiba anymore than you do, but we have to be polite. He's doing us a favor."

Bakura dropped back down, legs collapsing, to the couch. His lips were still numb; he touched a finger to them, only to notice they were trembling. He let his hair fall forward to swallow his face. The room was silent and unexpectedly oppressing and stifling. The walls seemed to lose in, dragging the glaring faces closer and closer to him.

Mental resources depleted, Bakura roared. "I didn't ask for his help!" He flung himself off the couch and followed Kaiba's path out the door.

A/N:

I was catching up on fanfiction, when I came to the realization that I skim, rather than read fanfiction (unless it's on my kindle), so I shortened up the paragraphs. Do you guys prefer how this chapter is, or would you rather me to write them as I have been (with novel paragraphs)?

I assume no one has an issue with Ryou's eating disorder since I have the same amount of views? I really do wonder what everyone thinks about that. I've done some more research about eating disorders and mental illnesses in Japan and it's, quite frankly, alarming. As wonderful as some aspects of Japan are, their mental health information is lacking.

It's like a time warp to the late 1970s. There is more knowledge now than there was in, say 1998 (even very intellectual professionals do not know about mental health; they just don't), but the shame aspect and the extra guilt the sufferer feels for being a 'drain' to society…

I guess my point is that I'm using a western model regarding eating disorders or the more casual anime/manga approach (cultural expectations and views are relaxed in most anime/mangas).