Yami's koi: wahey! Aren't I just so irresistibly brilliant?
Neutral Man: er, what did I put in your food today?
Yami's koi: nothing… I hope. Ha! I have returned, but I'm real pissed off right now. You see, my sister is being a bitch and fucking up my dreams. She wants to be a shrink, and I wanna be an author. You tell me which is more likely.
Neutral Man: she'll probably be happier at the end…
Yami's koi: will I fuck. Um… I get that Ryou's dad is an archaeologist, and in this chapter, all will be revealed…
Neutral Man: ooh, spooky. See ya later.
/Yugi to YamiYami to YugiRyou to Bakura Bakura to Ryou Malik to Marik Marik to Malik
The only flaw in Yami's well-conducted plan was the fact that all of them were to be seeing Bakura. At one they had planned to revisit the household that was more akin to a trash pile, with both Bakura and Ryou's father in it.
Ryou thought back and imagined how things used to be back in England. Things were so much different then, when compared to the lifestyle he now participated in.
Flashback.
"Home once again…" Ryou sang slightly to himself, slinging his bag onto a nearby chair. Interestingly the alarm was not in need of turning off… how odd. His father should not be home yet; he wasn't due back in the country for another three weeks... and his mother would be either at work or a friend's residence. Ryou's brain connected and his heart rate began to pick up once more. Unsurely he stepped forward.
"Hello…?" Ryou asked in a small cry, fingering his Millennium Ring with slight unease. The ghostly presence of Bakura materialised behind him, following his weaker host. His eyes were narrowed considerably, almost as if he could sense the people in the adjacent room. Still, Bakura could not forget how to sense such things he had used practically weekly when alive in Ancient Egypt. He had managed to remain undetected when using such a skilful, effective tactic…
Without much warning, and to Bakura's greatest disgust, Ryou wrenched open the door, which led to the Dining room. Here he saw his father, and several people whom he did not recognise. All seemed very grave.
"Dad? I didn't think that you'd be--"
"Ryou…" He interrupted softly, shaking his head as he approached his son. His eyes were dark, probably from his usual lack of sleep. He lay one hand heavily on Ryou's shoulder, and looked down at him sorrowfully. On closer inspection, Ryou could detect an intense amount of despondence that shadowed all other emotion. His posture seemed to be one of defeat and, for one slight moment, Ryou thought that he had lost his job. Why else would he have returned from work, in Egypt, if nothing else?
"It is your mother, Ryou. She has been diagnosed."
Ryou blinked. His heart began to race… what had happened to his mother? Would she live? Had she merely found herself misunderstood and therefore admitted to hospital?
Finding his voice again proved difficult. A small lump seemed to have formed within his throat, causing his voice to be slightly scratchy. "What with?"
Yaten sighed. "That is the problem. We do not know."
Ryou dreaded the answer to his next question. "And is she… will she… be okay?" He gave a hopeful smile at his father's face, before registering the look of complete grief and loneliness once more. Nothing, not even the largest beating in the world, would deny that depression. "Dad?"
"I am sorry." Yaten mumbled, after a slight silence. "She is dead."
Ryou's eyes immediately began to well up with tears. He had loved his mother so dearly…
End Flashback.
Ryou sighed. This would be something to dread. Although seventeen, he thought, as he regarded his features in the mirror, he had not altered greatly from that disastrous day, now seemingly a lifetime away. The sun had not tanned his pale skin, yet had been kissed by violence many times. His hair shone like silver in any light, creating the slight illusion that there was a hint of pale blue in his hair. Ryou's eyes were soft and chestnut-like, and had once been very innocent. Now they seemed cold and empty, bearing no lingering emotion.
What Yugi had just said was… beautiful. If Yami had not taken Yugi… well, he would be the one that Ryou would choose to love. Not that he had any actual desire for his friend… but Yugi was easy to love, and knew how to in return.
Ryou sighed heavily. There had always been a statement within his mind in which he had created upon seeing Bakura, and he intended to keep saying it. It was thus: 'Although many have been hurt, there is naught more powerful than the cold existence of a loveless child.'
Ryou had always managed to think of a sentence, or several, inspired by a certain person. Upon seeing Marik, for example, it had been 'Call the fucking fire department!' Whereas when he first saw Yugi, it had been, 'Innocence cannot be denoted to just childhood, but to every person when someone else sees something that no one else can.'
Ryou even had such a sentence in his mind whenever he saw himself. It was: 'Scars say a lot about a person's character. I just think that those committing suicide have a lot more to say about the world.'
A slightly tanned hand came to rest upon Ryou's head, and the boy sighed in response. Glancing in the mirror, he saw it was Yami.
"Are you ready?" The Pharaoh asked softly, turning the hikari around. Ryou nodded, attempting to have at least a slight amount of courage in his eyes.
"Hai."
Yami flashed him a small smile. "Good."
Ryou's house
"Open the fucking door!" Yami screamed, banging his fists repeatedly against the wood. "OPEN UP, YOU ASS-FUCKER!"
"Er, wouldn't that be you, Pharaoh?" Ryou asked, sounding uncannily alike to his yami. The pale haired boy blinked, and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak…
Yet when he next spoke, his voice was cold, sharp and cruel.
"I wouldn't even DARE to knock one more time on that door, Pharaoh!" Ryou snarled, snapping Yami's hand back. The Game King's eyes searched the hikari's in front of him, then flickered back to Yugi.
"I am sorry." He hissed, before taking Yugi's hand and striding off huffily, taking with him the bewildered, heart-shattered form of his light and lover.
Whilst the blinking Ryou stood at the porch, a broken expression tearing out the hearts of many passers-by, his coequal stood above the unknowing boy, hanging out of the upstairs window.
"Well done, my puppet," Bakura hissed, happiness and victory glistening in his eyes, before slamming shut the window. Surely that would lure suspicion to him? And when he would be confronted, Ryou would be so full of rage that he would accuse him, blind to the punishment not far after.
Bakura settled back against the wall, sat down and relaxed. Then his smirk returned once more, and he felt satisfied.
"And now, I believe, begins the fun."
Malik and Marik
"Greetings, oh mighty Pharaoh!" Marik sneered, practising once more in front of the mirror his daily ritual since Battle City. It seemed that he liked to ensure that his voice had never quite lost the thick accent upon saying that small phrase. After all, what would both Ishtar's be without their accents?
Malik sat beside him, watching and yet not. Sure, he was looking at his darkness, yet he wasn't actually concentrating on him. Marik could complete this ritual every minute for all that Malik cared, but the troubled Ishtar could sense something.
Many hardships can bring out the best in a person… or the worse. A mere two years ago, Malik had nearly taken over the world, and destroyed everyone in it, just for the Millennium Items. Yet now, he was a changed person. And he could sense when someone was in danger.
Earlier, when completing his usual morning wallowing in the bath, the warm water splashing gently against his smooth, tanned skin, the Tomb Keeper gasped. His back arched higher than what he had ever achieved before, even when indulging in lovemaking. A sharp, defiant pain burned on his back, lingering especially on the tattoo he now sought to conceal from enemy Duellists. The sharp shots of pain outlined the Egyptian hieroglyphs, and then the other images, before spreading in slowly to colour the remainder. Malik squirmed and cried out, standing in the bath whilst his back throbbed with pain. He closed his eyes, wishing for it to stop…
And then, suddenly, it vanished. There was no after affect – no burning or stings – just… nothing. And, checking his back afterwards whilst dressing, he cold not detect any visible change to his back. What the hell was going on?
Unexpectedly, Malik realised with a jolt that Marik had been watching him, giving him that long, lustful gaze he always did.
You seem distracted, Malik.
Malik sighed, standing so that those strong, powerful arms could embrace him once more. His chin rested on Marik's shoulder, and Malik's eyes closed when his arms wound around his darkness' neck.
I guess so.
Marik pulled back slightly to stare into his lover's eyes. Not true. You know that something is up, and so do I. So give already! Tell me, koi… please…
Malik pulled him closer, and backed onto the bed so that they could both sit. "Today I… felt my tattoo burn."
His darkness laughed slightly. "Oh, is that all? Silly koi… you should know better than to get worked up over a slight twinge of pain! It probably hurts more to know that you love me!"
"True," Malik jested. Marik shot him a threatening image into his light's mind, causing Malik to smirk. Pulling back from the embrace slightly, Malik leaned up and kissed his lover's lips, access into Marik's warm, wet cavern granted immediately.
Yugi and Yami
"He is so… ARGH!" Yugi cried out suddenly, collapsing into a chair as if exhausted. "We ask him to stay at ours for four days, which he accepts gladly. Then he treats us really badly and basically tells us to fuck off! How can he look so normal?!"
Yami eyed his aibou with slight concern. Yugi rarely swore, so this surprised him. "Koi, you're just tired. Which is… probably my fault."
Yugi sighed and put his head in his hands, leaning on the desk near his large chair. /I know it is, baka! You were the one who insisted on-- /
Oh, don't blame it all on me, you were the one who was moaning my name till three am!Yami argued, reaching over and tickling his koi slightly. Yugi squirmed slightly, but did not laugh.
"Yami… I really don't think that we should have left him there like that. We were being really unfair."
Yami growled. "He deserves to be treated that way, if that is the way we shall be treated in return. Huh. He's probably stooping so low as to fuck the Tomb Robber now."
"Yami! Ryou's not that kind of person! He'd never lose his virginity to a gie like Bakura!" Yugi retaliated.
"Then what's your excuse, hmmm?" Yami asked seductively, lifting Yugi up to straddle his hips. Their lips were just inches away from the other's. "Come on, Yugi. Even you have desires… right?" Yami whispered, gently pressing Yugi's back against the wall, grinding their hips together gently. Already Yugi could feel his darkness' erection against his hips.
"You've been aroused since we left Ryou, haven't you?" Yugi whimpered, the grinding beginning to really affect him. Yami nodded.
"Hell yeah. I was watching your sexy ass stride off in anger and I got hot."
Ryou and Bakura
"BAAAAKUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" Ryou screamed, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"
Bakura appeared at the top of the stairs, a secretive smirk on his face.
"Oh, I thought the Pharaoh had asked you over his for a while. So I decided to clean the kitchen. Do you like it?"
Ryou's eyes narrowed, imitating his darkness'. "YOU KNOW THAT IS NOT THE REASON WHY I AM HERE! WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM??!"
Bakura released a haunting laugh, stepping aside so that Yaten could push past, staggering blindly into the bathroom. Ryou grimaced slightly at the howls, yet kept his rage at the surface.
"QUIT THAT! Now tell me… what did you do to make them leave me? I could have been away from you for four days, and you ruined it!!"
Bakura grinned. "What did I do? Ryou, I watched you from the upstairs window. You told them yourself that they shouldn't knock, and flicked the Pharaoh's hand away.
"The last part, of course, I was exceptionally proud about. So you've finally seen sense…" Bakura moved down the stairs and smirked widely. "But don't you… even feel guilty about what you have done? Or perhaps your desires sink further than that…" He whispered, touching Ryou's cheek. Ryou would have flinched back, had he not been so paralysed by Bakura's words. It had been… him… saying that? He had caused himself to lose his own friends? Fucking HELL!
"Demo, matte… I did that? Che…" Ryou whispered, ignoring Bakura's hand still touching his cheek. It was something that he was fully used to, after all. A blade and a hand, for the Tomb Robber, were no different. It could still kill. Ryou's best, rational thought was to remain very still – almost as if paralysed by fear.
Iie… fear was never something he expressed too frequently. Yet with Bakura… things had changed, and miraculously at that.
"Yes, Ryou…" Bakura continued, still in that low, husky voice he had. "You lost your own friends. And you will never get them back…"
Ryou dodged past the Tomb Robber without another word. He raced up to the bathroom… and locked the door. He knew what to do when he was this way… the only way of escape and solace was… to cut.
Ryou lifted the emergency towels and reached for the blade that he always used. It was, after all, the sharpest. Lifting his sweatband, Ryou smirked down at the line of dried blood that had formed there from earlier. Blood always left him this way… craving for more.
Ryou's POV, present tense
I stare down and dimly hear my clothes rustle when my right hand lifts absently, running the flat edge of the blade against the broken skin. Several parts of my dried blood break off at this motion, and I see the liquid slither out slowly… this being my sole delight.
The glistening texture brings nothing forth yet of the deep throbbing sensation that I desire, yet a miserable slight sting. Not even enough to make me gasp. I lean down and wipe away the blood, carelessly tucking several strands of hair behind my ear after.
Fuck… I've not even made a fresh cut yet, and already I bleed. As that bastard downstairs would say… 'How pathetic.'
I lay the razorblade's sharp edge against my wrist, pressing in lightly. I decide to do this to give myself a line to cut across… right above a central artery. Several swipes, given the right amount of force, and I shall achieve my goal. To have killed myself…
With this thought in mind, I position the dagger against my wrist once more and apply pressure. The pressure, I see, makes my wrist bend upwards slightly… which should be enough strength.
With a gasp, I sharply pull my blade across the pale expanse of my wrist, until my hand and blade soar through air. I take note that some layers of skin has been pierced, yet not enough to leak with blood. I impatiently brush away several loose skin pieces with the flat edge of my knife.
"That sucks," I mutter, a dark, sharp edge attacking my voice. Placing the razor exactly along the line of stinging sensation, I drag it, this time slowly and with more pressure applied. Victorious, I throw back my head and release an odd, banshee-like howl. Blood has always been… precious to me. I watch it slowly creep along the length of my killing tool, and then smudge across my once uncut wrist.
What Bakura has just said… it made me realise something. That I am always blaming him for whatever goes wrong within my life. Perhaps it is not always he, but myself, who causes pain…
Which ever way that pendulum swings, I am unprepared to accept its consequences. I may not believe it yet, and if I do, then I shall have to pay Bakura several apologies. And that is something that I do not relish, purely because it is something that he would.
Fuck this thinking. I have nothing left inside but emotion… and my angsty territory that shrouds me in grief.
A thin shimmer of blood runs along the flat edge of my blade, and I raise it to examine the dark substance. I turn my hand slightly to view it at differed angles, and it seems that I am displeased. From two slices… this is pathetic. Even Yugi could achieve more than this, and his arms greatly lack strength
With such a thought in mind, I place the blade back into the bleeding slice. Slowly I move the razor back along the flat width of my wrist, feeling it bite, watching intently and gladly when blood splatters slightly on the tiles beneath me. It is not much, yet I feel slightly more content. Its glistening texture allures me: this being my only love.
I slash along my wrist further up to make a fresh cut, where even more blue veins intersect. Three new wounds in one day. The kisses from this glorious blade slake my dehydration for suffering, quench my thirst for suicidal thoughts. Or, at least, for a while. This form of addiction… my Razorblade Romance… is almost an incurable existence for me. If I continue to do so many cuts per day… I fear that not even my sweatband will continue to hide my scars. Well… not that I am ashamed of how I am reacting to being so badly treated, but… the innocent will be.
Yet, one does not have to be willing to die if they mar themselves. In fact… I know of someone who has scarred themselves for life, yet is now happy, with a lover. And he is the one person whom I once trusted… and now have lost. This is the reason why I am here now. Because of… Yugi.
It startled me greatly, seeing Yugi pull up his jeans' leg, past his slender thighs, to reveal seven shooting scars, all intersecting across each other. They vividly stood out against the pale tones of his leg, and I was horrified. Yugi… the one deemed so pure and merry by all… was slicing open his skin. And for, in my opinion, an almost heartbreaking cause.
His yami. The Pharaoh had been critically ill, taken by surprise at an almost unheard of virus that attacked his immune system directly. At one point, it seemed likely for the Pharaoh to die. Yugi had barely left his side, yet when he did, I fear that was the time when he stole those kitchen knives… and began the addiction that may just kill me.
I add yet more pressure to my blade as it moves at a slow pace across my wrist, its continuous biting sting following the curve of the wound. I stare at the thin lines of blood now slithering down my skin, occasionally dripping onto the floor. I glance nearer towards the mirror, and see my own name. Strangely, this is not of my neat script, yet Bakura's difficult to read scrawl. Lowering my eyes from the sight, I note that the previous gash's blood that fell onto the floor has not been noticed, or noticed and mocked. I must clear all traces… before I leave.
Oddly, this does not hurt as much as before. Then, removing the blade once more, I note that the original coldness has vanished. The warmth of my blood quells the stinging sensations little, yet still enough for me to scoff.
More of the pain. I press down harder on my true delight, my addiction, and release another terrifying laugh. Yes… come back to me, the one I love… the item that may end my life in several days' time. I move the blade through my bleeding wound, quiet laughter causing my body to tremble. Without any form of warning, I scream out my delight, swiftly dragging my knife through my pierced skin, feeling it dig lower and lower… until…
FUCK! Che, che, che, che, che, che, che. I stagger forward slightly, my body bending towards the same direction. A shooting arc of pain is burning throughout my wrist, diffusing into the rest of my arm, exploding from a single point that I have finally achieved. Glancing down, I see a slightly coloured vein running along my arm… and my vision begins to turn black.
Bakura
"Let me in you bastard!" The Tomb Robber bellowed, hammering on the locked door of the bathroom, "OPEN UP!!"
Wait. What the hell was he doing? The almighty Tomb Robber never ceased until he achieved what he had set out to do. No matter how well constructed the slaves made the Tombs, Bakura had always been able to hack into the main burial chamber, and steal away with his delight. This door… he could knock down with his body if he so desired.
Just when he was contemplating this, and preparing to slam his entire body into the door, Bakura heard a small crash, and then the shattering of several glass items, mainly bath gels. With a snarl upon his face, Bakura took a running start, and threw himself at the wood.
He closed his eyes as soon as he realised that his plan had worked. Now that Bakura was in, he could…
Oh, shit. Blood… splattered on the tiles, around Ryou's bleeding body.
Ryou! Please! Wake up…
Bakura desperately called for a response through their link, reaching for Ryou's left hand to feel for a pulse… and was met with the slightly warm substance that was his hikari's blood.
Bakura's eyes widened. Upon closer examination, the Thief could see several veins split open and… his eyes blurring slightly with tears of guilt and realisation… he saw lying nearby the blade in which had caused this.
No… it was he who had caused Ryou to do this. Bakura backed away, and reached into his pocket frantically. He dialled 911, and waiting impatiently for someone to accommodate him. Screaming for an ambulance, and after being assured calmly that one would arrive shortly, Bakura pressed on the wound with his bare fingers, covering up the slash made. He shivered when the blood touched his skin again, hoping beyond hope that his hikari would be safe. This could not be happening… it was all just… so fast…
"No…" He whispered, shaking his head as a stray tear fell down his cheek silently. "You can't go…"
The sirens of a swiftly approaching ambulance could be heard as the Tomb Robber's loud, wailing sobs drew a line between fucked up and happiness.
Yami's koi: I'm not sure if I liked the slitting scene too much. And… I'm not sure if I should edge away from angst for a while and add some fluff between Bakura and Ryou, maybe some love? Or… should I continue to have Bakura being an abusive baka? Also, if you'd like to do any fan art of this ficcy, or any other done by me, then please, feel free to send me a link in your review! Or, mail me at either or . I'd love to see what I inspire!
Neutral Man: Yami's koi has begun to attempt to send emails to several reviewers. She also put in her real name at the bottom, so be sure to have a good laugh at that, too!
Yami's koi: Yeah. Well… I hope that you all have a Merry Christmas, and a highly happy New Year! And, with 2005 coming up shortly, I'll probably get more things to inspire me! Therefore… Fanfic Angst Ryou/OC suicides! Um… plushie to those who review. Please R/R! Luvvies… Happy Holidays!