Letters and Candles
Chapter 1
Letters
Disclaimer- I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Wish I did but we don't all get our wishes do we?
A small beam of moonlight illuminated the small apartment. The bed was made neatly, light blue comforter tucked perfectly on top of white sheets. Bed skirt pulled tight and even around the bottom of the queen-sized bed. A small desk sat parallel to the bed; a lamp, a radio, a stack of paper; envelopes and a pen sat on it. A small four-drawer dresser was on the opposite wall next to the closet. A bookshelf, overflowing with books, stood adjacent to it. Yes, the room was small and crowded. But to the teen that lived here it was large and full of tormenting memories.
A gentle snow was falling outside. A horn blared as fogged headlights made there way past below. The door lock clicked and the apartment door creaked open. A white-haired boy stepped into the room, not bothering to flick on the lights. He pulled off his shoes and set them next to the air vent, cranking up the thermostat in hopes they would soon dry. He closed and locked the door then B-lined to the window, tossing his coat onto the end of the bed along the way. His cheeks were flushed from the cold winter air; his skin flecked with water droplets from melted snow. He pulled back the curtains from the window completely, moonbeams illuminating his porcelain skin and the snowy tresses that framed his face. Brown doe eyes staring straight to the moon.
A silent tear fell, leaving a shining trail, down the teens face. The memories came back in heavy floods. His face betrays what he has been through; for what he has seen is more than most, a true living hell. Bakura was gone; he had left the day after Ryou's 17th birthday. Ryou turned his attention to the busy streets; the bright city lights hid the stars from view. He looked down the road to where his favorite diner stood then at the parking lot of his apartment building. One parking spot was empty; it was the place Bakura had claimed for his own, still no one dared park there. More memories took him and tears streamed down his face.
He staggered over to the bedside table and grabbed a jar, heavy with money. He poured its contents out on the dresser counting the money quickly and writing it down on a small piece of paper. He added a second number, the amount he had tucked away in the bank, and totaled it. He had not yet done it. He still did not have enough money to buy the small house on the outskirts of town; the one he so desperately longed for. He needed to get away from this place. It was full of memories, all of them bad. Ryou stuffed the money back into the jar and returned it to the nightstand.
He turned to go back to his spot at the window but something caught his eye. A picture sitting on his desk, one that had not been there that morning. Cautiously he looked around the room shifty-eyed, his heart-rate picking up. The apartment was empty as when he had left it. He slowly padded over to the picture; it was in a delicately carved wooden frame. He picked up it up and carried it over to the window, where he could see. What he saw caused his breath to catch and his heart to miss a beat.
It was a picture of him and Bakura, taken nearly three months before he left. Ryou took another heavy breath and traced Bakura's face with his fingertip. The picture was of one of the few days he and Bakura had gotten along. Not one incident had happened that entire day. Ryou remembered it well. Malik and Marik had had Bakura drag him to a club, they said he needed to get a life. Ryou was dressed in his usual clothing; blue striped shirt, light blue jacket, jeans and shoes and of course the Millennium Ring around his neck. Bakura had dressed himself in overly tight leather pants, white muscle shirt and a leather jacket to top off the look, his copy of the ring 'round his neck as well.
Bakura had draped his arm around Ryou's waist for the picture. And with some nagging from Malik and Marik; Ryou had hesitantly put his arm around Bakura's shoulders. Just long enough for the picture to be taken. Bakura wore his usual famous smirk while Ryou just blushed and smiled.
Ryou let out a string of raspy coughs followed by choked sobs. Crystalline tears rolled down his flushed cheeks. Even after all the pain Bakura had put him through he still missed him. Some days he almost felt he would let Bakura torture him again if he could only see him; he always regretted this thought. Ryou knew that he loved the dark, without him Ryou was nothing.
Ryou sat down cross-legged on the bed, someone had brought the photo into his apartment. Most likely Malik or Marik as a Christmas gift. 'That's right, it's Christmas Eve,' Ryou thought turning over the picture in his hands. A piece of lined notebook paper was neatly folded and taped to the back. Ryou's eyes widened as he read his name in the all-too-familiar scribbled handwriting. It was a letter from Bakura.
Ryou hadn't even pulled the letter off of the back of the frame when the tears started to swell. He chewed on his lower lip begging the tears not to fall. 'If I open it what will I find?' Ryou thought holding back a sob. He tore off the tape, careful not to damage the letter in any way. He laid the picture down on the bed beside him, eyes never leaving the letter. Ryou traced his name with his right index finger; smiling to himself and remembering the who-knows-how-many-hours he had spent teaching Bakura to write.
Another horn blared outside knocking Ryou out of his daydreams. He turned the letter over a total of six times before willing himself starting to unfold it. His fingers played with each corner before unfolding each crease. When it was completely unfolded he quickly turned it over in his hands, forcing himself to look away. He turned his attention to the window; praying to the stars that this note would appeal to his wounded heart.
He looked at the clock sitting on his night table, it read 10:36 p.m. in boisterous red lights. His tears left wet stains on the paper on his lap. Carefully he lifted himself off the bed and went pulling his chair from under the desk and dragging it over to the window. The very place he had so many times before sat crying after many beatings given to him by Bakura.
He lifted the paper to where a single moonbeam illuminated the paper. Two lines in black ink centered and semi-smudged, by Ryou's tears, glared back at him.
I Heard What You Wished
On Your Candles
Ryou choked, chocolate brown eyes widening, as he fell to the floor. The paper floated gently to the floor landing next to Ryou's shaking form. His eyes brimmed with tears and he barred his teeth in grief. Sparkling tears created small mirror-like puddles on the wooden floor.
Ryou he padded swiftly over to his bed, throwing himself on it and curling into a ball. He slipped soundlessly under the covers. The bed creaked as he coughed from the bottom of his soul. His tears fell onto the black silken pillow Bakura left behind and his letter crinkled as blew across the floor. Soon his coughing fits ceased and his heavy-lidded eyes closed tight. Only the soft sound of a white-haired, sleeping teen remained in the room.
On the floor, Bakura's letter swished; laying half against wall and half against floor. Bold lettering set facing the boy, who lay snoring gently on the bed. A single tear slid gently down his face as he slept. He pressed his face deeper into the silk pillow breathing in the heavy scent of Bakura.
Eight blocks away in another small apartment a shadow stood staring out into the night. None of the city lights reached this part of town. No lights were on in the parking lot. Men moved around by moonlight, concealed in the shadows here. A voice whispered into the darkness a single word as his heart ached. "Ryou…"
Lupe- Well here is my new story. As you can see it's titled Letters and Candles. I hope everyone enjoyed it! New chapters will be posted frequently, I hope. Ryou plushie to first person to review and cookies to everyone after! Lotsa love, Lupe