-rushes in- Ehheehe! Lookit my update! -giggle- Kind of fast... And it's quite long... 5000 words. Hehe. Too bad it's crap. -dies- I'm sorry. But I really tried.
Disclaimer: I own nothing
It was the twittering of birds that aroused Ryou from his deep slumber. He yawned, arching his back and stretching his arms as he shook off the last tendrils of sleep, relaxing into the soft pillow.
Wait a minute. Were those arms around his waist? The light froze, his eyes widening as he turned his head slightly, a whimper sounding in his throat as he shrank away from the sleeping demon, his nose buried in his neck. O-Oh dear. Ryou mentally gasped, shaking like a leaf as he stared at Bakura, one leg curled around his. This is not good, not good… Ryou gulped, trying desperately not to think about the way Bakura's lips were on the side of his neck. Oh no, oh no, oh no. His pulse quickened as he nibbled on his lower lip, closing his eyes. Please wake up, please wake up… Ryou sighed, lifting his head to gaze at the demons sleeping form. Unlike Ryou, Bakura refused to sleep with a shirt on, and usually wore only his boxers to bed. Last night had been particularly cold, Ryou had remembered, so the demon must have been freezing. A pang pf pity rose in the teens heart, but he pushed it down, remembering the violent outburst on Bakura's part last night. That must have been why he was so close to Ryou, He tried to reason with himself. He was just trying to keep warm. And the bed was only a single anyway. Bakura wasn't sleeping like that because he wanted to be close to Ryou in particular… Right?
Ryou sighed. He knew that wasn't true. Bakura had been obsessed with his body for as long as he could remember. He felt like crying. Why the heck did he have to have the crazy psycho in love with his body? Letting out a long sigh, Ryou rolled over onto his side, shrugging off Bakura's touch. I wish he could do that. How can someone be so violent, and then show affection just a few hours later? I swear Bakura's bipolar… Ryou heaved himself out of bed thoughtfully, chewing on his lower lip. Ugh. I have to get ready for school.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, No, FUCK there's nothing on!" Bakura threw the remote at the wall, glaring at the T.V (He'd actually passed by one of his favourite shows). What the hell is wrong with me? Today's been one big fuck-up. I feel like crap... The demon didn't even summon the motivation to get out of bed until twelve, and even then, it was just a move to the couch, where he'd remained for the past hour. Ryou was due to come home soon, which only made things worse for him. Bakura groaned, leaning back on the plush couch and holding a hand to his forehead. I fucked up last night… Ryou was right, I could have killed him. Why the hell did I do that? Why did I hurt him? Ugh. I should have just left it when he said no, but I couldn't… Why the hell is he saying no anyways? I thought I took care of his rebellion... I want a beer. Bakura sighed as he stood up, chewing on his bottom lip.
"I'm such a screwup." The yami mused aloud as he leaned against the kitchen counter, taking a swig at his beer. "I mean, I say I love the kid, but I can't show any affection. But it annoys me to be nice. And it's annoying when he's nice to me. Ryou was right. It's probably his body I love more than his personality. Fuck, I know it's his body I love more than personality. Like the Ryou in my dream. Why can't he be more like that?" Bakura shivered at the memory. "Maybe if he had more of a backbone- Who the hell am I talking to?" The spirit snorted, downing more the alcohol. "Ugh. I am crazy." I'm fucking insane. And stupid. I'm such an idiot. Bakura continued to think in this vein, continuously taking sips from the bottle of amber liquid. When the beer was finished, Bakura scowled, setting it on the counter, and starting upon the other. Maybe if he got wonderfully drunk, then he wouldn't have to think about it all. The demon snorted, glaring at the now-half finished bottle of beer. If he wanted to, Bakura was clearly going about it the wrong way. He grinned, downing the last of the beer before opening the pantry, rifling around the back of the cupboards where he had hid a bottle of sake a few weeks ago. Bakura grinned as he extracted the glass bottle, unscrewing the lid immediately, and taking a swig without getting a glass. I can't do this anymore; I can't keep thinking about Ryou like this, it's going to drive me crazier than I am now.
Ryou couldn't stop thinking about Bakura.
No matter how hard he tried, his biology questions just weren't that interesting. He couldn't concentrate, and it was annoying him endlessly. The demon was just spinning through his head. Everything he had ever done kept running through his head. All the beatings, the insults, the demands Bakura forced upon him… But there was always the good with the bad. How often was Ryou thankful that he had Bakura, that he didn't live on his own? Yes, he did have friends- for among the first time in his life- That he sat with everyday, occasionally did homework with, or went to the arcade or movies, but often, days would pass when all Ryou ever got was a 'hi.' Yugi, Honda, Anzu, and Jou were a close circle of friends, and he was on the outside. More than once, Ryou was sure that they only let him stay out of pity, and his and Yugi's similiarities. Malik was the best friend he's ever had, there was no doubt about that, but because he didn't go to school, and often took advantage of his sisters' career and accompanied her on overseas business trips, he wasn't always there. Ryou liked not having to come home to an empty house- Even if it was a pigsty with loud music blaring and a bad-tempered yami- And not having to only cook dinner for himself. He liked waking up in the morning to cook breakfast for someone else, he liked the rare, quiet moments the pair occasionally shared where Bakura would be civil, and Ryou would keep his mouth shut and they would actually get along. The teen couldn't imagine his life without Bakura. And those amazing two weeks where Bakura pretended to love him were magic.
Ryou sighed, doodling along the margin of his textbook with his pencil absentmindedly. There were a few moments in his life when Bakura was actually nice to him, especially when he was younger. How many times had he woken up screaming from a horrible nightmare, to have Bakura at his side, gently soothing away his fears? Ryou would never, ever forget that, for as long as he lived. A small smile graced his features for a moment in remembrance. Bakura had treated him well for those first years. Was that because he didn't actually have his own body then, or because he was young? Was it… Was it because Ryou's body wasn't developed like it was now, because he wasn't mature then and wasn't old enough for love, or to be loved? Did Bakura start hurting him when he started getting feelings for him?
He'd never thought about it like that before. Ryou bit his lip and frowned, looking down at his work. It could be true. Bakura wasn't capable of love, but he was certainly capable of lust. The teen snorted. That's all it was. Lust for Ryou's body. It was really depressing. Like he'd ever fall in love with my personality.
Ryou put the uncomfortable thought in the back of his head, and looked back down at his work, struggling to concentrate on his biology.
"Fuck, I am so drunk." Bakura giggled to himself, the bottle of sake nearly empty on the floor beside him as he slumped against a kitchen counter, his legs spread on the linoleum before him. "Oh God…" His fingers closed around the bottle, and the demon lifted it to his mouth with drunken fingers, but it slipped, crashing to the floor in hundreds of pieces. "Shit!" Bakura cursed, closing his eyes in distress. No more sake. Frigging great. And I can still remember everything. The demon sighed, leaning into the cupboard door. This is not cool. Bakura sighed, raising his foggy eyes to the ceiling. Everywhere was all warm and fuzzy, but it wasn't the good kind.
"Goddamn it." Bakura muttered, rolling over to his side. "This isn't good." He only wanted to forget about everything he did. How he tried his hardest to be nice, but that cold, sadistic side just leaped out at Ryou, rearing its ugly head. And to have Ryou so afraid beneath him, to see that fear dancing in his eyes… Part of him was disgusted with himself, but most of him was pleased. It showed Ryou that Bakura was in still in control, that Bakura still owned every part of him. The demon sighed, tracing a claw-like finger in the puddle of sake morosely. He was crawling in his fucking skin here, and there seemed to be nothing he could do about it. Every time he tried being nice to Ryou, he'd either pull it off and later hate himself for being so weak and caring, or spin out in a violent frenzy and then hate himself afterwards for hurting him. Either way, Bakura hated himself. He just couldn't win.
The demon swayed as he stood up, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. His vision swam, dancing in a blur before his eyes, but he blinked them away, one hand rubbing at his temples. I'm fine, just a little-a lot drunk. Bakura stumbled slightly as he pushed himself away from the tiled counter, but regained his balance, muttering fragments of curses under his breath. Bakura staggered into the lounge, using his left hand along one wall for support. He left the stability of the wall as he headed for the couch, but his drunken feet betrayed him, and he tripped (over nothing) crashing almost headfirst into the small side table beside the couch.
"Fuck!" Bakura cursed, silently thanking the gods for his lucky escape, and pulled himself onto his rear, leaning against the sofa as he struggled to recollect his thoughts. "Oh." Bakura raised an eyebrow as he cast a russet eye to the side table again. Ryou's picture had fallen over. The demon took it in a hand almost tenderly, running a finger on the glass. Ryou had a few pictures of his family around the apartment, but this one was unique. It was a poorly-taken Polaroid of the family beside a river, and at a first glance, looked like nothing special. The boys father was the one taking the picture, and Ryou stood amongst the grass with his mother and sister, all white skin and pale hair, the trio illuminated in the summer light. Bakura sighed as he looked at the young Ryou's face, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. This was the last picture of Ryou and his family that was ever taken, just a few short weeks before their death, and what the demon was so transfixed on was Ryou's happiness. He had never seen him smile like that before, never seen his eyes hold that sparkle. He was so innocent, and so naïve, unaware that in less than a months his life would be forever destroyed, that the woman with her arm around his shoulders and the girl who held his hand would be gone forever, that he wanted to cry. What a lie. Bakura sighed as he ran his fingers over the glass, staring at the simple picture of a simple family enjoying an afternoon by the river. It tugged at his heartstrings, to look at Ryou's face. Sure, he was a part of the boys' misery, but until recently, it was only the memory of his family that made him cry.
Bakura's face contorted in anger as he glared at the photo, at the lie. Without thinking, without considering what Ryou would say, the demon threw the picture as hard as he could, the photo encased in glass and framed in ornately carved wood, shattered upon the impact, tumbling in a pile of splintered wood, broken glass, and torn paper to the floor. Bakura glared at the ruined picture for awhile, his hands clasped around his legs and his chin on his knees. Finally, the demon moved, crawling on his hands and knees towards the wall, still keeping his eyes on the photo. When he reached it, he tucked his legs underneath him, biting his lip as he stared at the picture. Why the hell did Ryou have so many photos of a couple of dead people anyway? It sickened him. Bakura frowned, taking a shard of glass in his fingers. What was death like? He'd often wondered. What would it be like, trading flesh and bone and the breath of life for death, for dirt, and white crosses? To be in a box six feet under in eternal sleep… Or to burn, and have only a heap of ashes remaining that used to be a person. Bakura sighed, turning the sharp glass in his fingers. It was tempting. No more memories, no more pain, no more confusion, no more Ryou…
No. He couldn't do that to the boy! He couldn't leave Ryou all alone in the world with no protection… Protection from what? Bullies that were either expelled by now, or shit scared of what the mutt and the knife-headed retard would do? Protection from the shadows? Ryou had been under the watchful eye of the stupid Pharaoh for months, and nothing would be able to hurt him. Protection from his memories and his pain? Malik was the only one he talked to about his family, who- being parentless himself- could somewhat relate and show some empathy. Ryou didn't need him for anything. Not for friendship, for protection, not for acceptance, not for love…
But Ryou had said himself that Bakura was the only one he'd ever been in love with. Even if Ryou's passionate love for him was extinguished, it could be rekindled… The boy had been in love with him for years, he couldn't just throw it away… could he? Okay, this was just alcohol talking now. Ryou couldn't bring himself to love him after what he did. He raped the boy, for Gods sake! Who could fall in love with their rapist? Nobody except a complete retard, and Ryou was very, very smart for a boy his age. Bakura sighed, running an index finger along the sharp edge of the glass, wincing as a red line welled up in its' wake. It wasn't like being cut with a razor, which was virtually painless for the first few seconds, until the blood really started flowing, it was more like a knife, smooth, yet jagged, slicing through skin without a catch. It was raw, simple, and it felt really, really good.
Bakura had been practicing the art of masochism for as long as he could remember. He knew how deep to cut when he wanted pain but not blood, where all of his vital veins and arteries were, and how far below his skin he could locate tendons and muscle. He ran the glass vertically along his arm, hissing as the blood welled up in its wake, spilling over his self-inflicted wound and dribbling to the floor. When he reached his elbow, the demon stopped, the small shard of glass, a fabrication of sand and air, slipped from his fingers. Bakura let out along breath, running his other hand along the cut, suppressing a moan. It felt so perfect, the sharp pain was like a light, guiding him out of the dizziness and the doubled vision, into sanity, clear, rational thinking. Or so he thought.
The demon looked down at the photo, now creased in the middle with a torn corner. It looked so forlorn amongst the broken glass and splintered wood. Bakura smirked as he picked it up with bloodied fingers, ignoring the cut in his forearm for a moment as he looked closer at the photograph, particularly Ryou's mother. His smile faded, however, when he saw the small silver cross around her neck, a symbol of her Christianity, a stupid belief, a faith that was nothing but holes and empty promises. They died. And for what? What kind of higher power would kill such promising and beautiful young people, and leave such an innocent young boy all alone? Bakura snarled, the angry thought clinging to his mind as he tore the battered photograph in two with pale hands stained with crimson, and again, dropping the creased, bloodstained picture to the ground in four jagged pieces. Stupid boy. The spirit snatched the glass up again, glaring at the cut along his arm. The blood had already stopped flowing, and it angered Bakura further. He wanted the pain, he wanted the blood. He wanted to pour crimson from his arms until he was utterly spent, and maybe then he would die. Death would be a welcome relief, but Bakura doubted he would be let off so easily. The demon sighed, but nevertheless dragged the shard of glass across a pale stretch of skin, bringing both blood and tears to the surface of his skin.
Ryou was feeling dizzy.
He frowned as he walked beside Jou, who was nattering endlessly about something or other Kaiba had said today to insult him. Everything appeared to be spinning around in front of him, and he felt awfully light-headed. A soft gasp spilled from his lips, but neither the blonde nor the whitenette heard him. Everything seemed to be getting really blurry, and his arms were itching, strangely, and his legs were feeling weak…
"And then I says to him, 'You Better- Bakura?" Jou turned to his friend, who was legging a pace or two behind, holding a hand to his forehead. Ryou opened his mouth to speak, but instead, he pitched forward, collapsing in a clumsy heap to his knees. "Bakura!" Jou's voice rose an octave in panic as he ran towards his friend, Ryou on his knees in the street with his head in his hands. "Bakura, what's wrong?" He crouched beside the teen, who was shaking uncontrollably.
"I-I'm J-Just a bit- a bit dizzy." Ryou stammered, rubbing at his headache. "M-My arms r-really itch… Oh no." Brown eyes snapped open, widening further in fear. "J-Jou… I have to g-go home." His voice sped up in panic. Something's really wrong… Jounouchi nodded, extending a hand and dragging Ryou's slender frame into a standing position.
"Come on man," He sighed, one arm around the boys' slender shoulder, supporting his almost non-existent weight. "Shoot, you're light." He remarked, running a hand along Ryou's back, and froze. "Ryou… I can fell your ribs."
"I'll explain later." The whitenette lied, keeping his chocolate orbs downcast. "Please Jounouchi, I have to get home. Now."
Bakura screamed. The sharp shard of glass slid from his trembling fingers and to the floor. SHIT THAT HURTS! He mentally screamed, looking down at his forearms. Blood dripped steadily from every open wound, especially at his wrists, where the demons pale skin had been torn to shreds. Bakura knew that even combined, he would not lose enough blood to die, but that was until he cut too deep.
His left fingers weren't moving. The spirit almost whimpered, struggling to look through the torn skin and muscle to confirm his suspicions- He'd hit a tendon, slicing it right in two. SHIT! Bakura bit his lip, holding his working hand over the deep cut. Ow, ow ow... The demon slumped against the wall, breathing heavily as he looked back at his arm, blood trickling through his fingers.
"Shit." Bakura moaned, clenching his eyes tightly shut. Everything was spinning and blurring again, and he didn't think it had anything to do with the alcohol this time… he cradled his injured arm close to his chest, feeling the warm blood cool as it soaked his shirt, trickling down his chest. The demon opened his eyes, the crimson orbs widening in shock at the amount of blood that had managed to soak his clothes and stain the carpet. Not good, not good. Bakura slumped further against the wall, his eyelids drooping. His vision was fogging, his breathing slowing. He's lost, and was still loosing so much blood… It was everywhere… How did he manage to get some in his hair? Bakura sighed, clutching his arms tighter and biting his lip to counteract the pain. His breathing became more laboured, and his vision was darkening… No… What an idiot? What kind of retard cut himself when he's drunk? Bakura groaned, his head drooping to his knees. It was so dark… And it hurt so much, it really hurt, he didn't want it to hurt anymore… He had to let go.
The demon slumped to his side, his eyelids drooping shut, his breathing slowing further. I'm going to die… aren't I? Ryou, I'm so sorry…
So sorry…
"I-I can walk now, Jou." Ryou said gratefully as he slid out from under the blondes arm. Jounouchi nodded, dropping his arm in an instant. He was still staring at Ryou's back, inwardly shuddering at the way he could feel the whitenette's ribs under his fingers as he supported him. Ugh… That was the only way one could describe it. What has he done to you?
"Bakura... Are you okay?" The blonde frowned, turning his brown eyes to Ryou's… He looked almost sick with worry as he grasped the banister, the pair of them making their way to Ryou's apartment on the third floor. "If you're feeling dizzy, you should slow down-"
"I can't!" Ryou panted as he almost ran up the stairs. "I have to go see if he's okay! Something's wrong Jou… My arms are itching worse, and my fingers are going numb…"
"Your fingers?" Jounouchi was panting for breath as he ran alongside Ryou up the last flight of stairs, blonde bangs sticking to his forehead. "What the… Do you know what that means?" Ryou looked like he was going to cry, his pace increasing.
"N-No." He wheezed, struggling for breath as he ran. "B-But… I think he's hurting himself. M-My arms feel like this when he does, but I'm so dizzy…" He stumbled and almost fell, but for Jou's strong arms wrapping around his chest to prevent his fall, the blonde inwardly shrinking as he held Ryou's skeletal frame. Anorexics sickened him.
"There." Jou set the boy back on his feet. "For god sake Bakura, slow down!" Ryou merely looked at the teen for a second before taking off again, his heart beating fast and heavily in panic and lack of oxygen. "Bakura!"
"I'm sorry Jou!" Ryou yelled breathlessly as he jumped the last two steps, his wild name of silver flying out behind him as he ran down the corridor, tears stinging his eyes.
"Bakura!" Jou repeated, leaning against the wall for support, almost doubled over as he wheezed for breath. "Come on man…" Finally, he was able to pull himself in an upright position again, staggering after the boy, who was currently unlocking the apartment door with trembling fingers. "He's going to be-"
"OH GOD!" Ryou screamed as he opened the door, his knees buckling under him. Jou's eyes widened as he rushed towards the light, grabbing his bony arms before Ryou collapsed completely. "Oh my god, Oh no, oh no…" The teen was sobbing as Jou directed him into the apartment, his slender shoulders heaving from his tears. It wasn't until he looked into the kitchen when he saw the reason for Ryou's tears, his stomach turning at the sight.
"Jesus." Jounouchi breathed as he dragged the whitenette along with him, Ryou collapsed by the demons side, his skeletal frame wracked with sobs. Bakura was slumped on his side in the living room, his skin deathly pale and body far too still. And no bloody wonder. Jou felt sick when he saw how much blood the spirit had lost, the red stain on the carpet still slowly growing. That is sick… "Um… Okay, Bakura, you just… Just stay there and I'll um, ring for an ambulance, and get something to stop the bleeding…" Ryou ignored him, his frantic voice babbling on the edge of his consciousness as he ran a trembling hand over Bakura's face, brushing bloodstained locks of silver out from his face. The demon shifted and moaned at the touch, his eyelids twitching.
"He's alive!" Ryou screamed, his heartrate doubling as a wide grin spread across his face. "Oh my gosh, I thought you were dead…" He whispered, combing his fingers through the demons hair. "O-O my gosh, I was so scared." Ryou sobbed, his shoulders shaking. "I-I th-thought I-I wouldn't s-see you ag-again." The light struggled to control his breathing. "O-Oh B-Bakura…"
"Sit him up." Jou knelt beside the light, a stack of towels in his hands. "It'll keep him more awake and stop the circulation." He set the fluffy white towels on the floor, helping Ryou to lift the demons unconscious form into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the light. His breathing was slow and laboured, eyes open a mere crack. "Here." He wrapped a towel around Bakura's right arm, struggling to keep himself calm and businesslike for Ryou's sake. "Hold this here, okay?" The whitenette nodded blankly as Jou placed his hands over the towel. "Hold it really tight, okay?" Ryou nodded again, slack fingers tightening over the towel-wrapped arm. "Bakura…" Jou muttered, trying to keep his tone even and businesslike. "It's going to be okay. He's going to be fine. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes, and… Oh shit."
"Wh-What?" Ryou lifted a tearstained face to gaze at Jounouchi, who was currently inspecting the demons left arm. "J-Jou… what's wrong? Y-You said he was going to be okay!" Tearful chocolate orbs stared into Jou's coffee-coloued eyes. "Y-You said he was going to be okay…"
"He hit a tendon." Jounouchi sighed. "And slashed a whole lot of muscle. That's probably why your fingers are numb, Bakura. He's lost all the feeling in his…" The blonde swore, tightening his hold on the makeshift bandage. "He's going to be okay, Bakura." He tried to console the smaller boy. "It's going to be all right… We don't even know if it's possible for him to die…" The blonde sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Man… Why the hell did he do this anyway?"
"I-I don't know." Ryou stammered, his voice thick with tears. He rested his chin on the demons head, staring off into space. "H-He wouldn't try to-to kill himself…" The whitenette trailed off into nothingness, staring at the floor. That was when he saw the torn photograph and the shattered, splintered frame. Bakura had ruined his favourite photo of his family.
It felt like his heart was torn with a knife. Ryou's breath caught in his throat, and his eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the picture, torn into four pieces. How could he… The light blinked the tears away, his chin trembling. He knows how much that picture means to me… How could he do this?
"Bakura!" Jou's voice broke the teen out of his miserable thoughts. Ryou blinked, tearing his gaze away from the photo a few feet away, and to the blonde, who was staring urgently into mocha orbs. "Look, take his arm." He shoved Bakura's bleeding arm into Ryou's chest. "I'm going to go and meet the ambulance.. Are you going to be all right?" Ryou nodded blankly, now staring at the blood spreading on the carpet.
"Yami.." Ryou whispered as soon as Jounouchi had left him. "Yami… Why did you do this?" He cradled the demons lifeless form close to his chest, feeling the crimson blood seep through his once-snow white towels, and through the material of his school uniform, wincing as he felt the sticky substance on his chest. "Why did you hurt yourself so much?" He sobbed, pressing his lips to the demons snowy head. "Why did you wreck my picture?" He didn't get an answer. He didn't expect to. "I-I'm sorry it got this far." The light whispered, his emaciated frame wracking with choked sobs. "I-I'm so sorry it had to end like this…" Bakura's breathing was shallow and ragged, his dying frame propped weakly against the lights' chest. "I-I'm so sorry."
"Don't be." Ryou froze as the weak, harsh voice rasped from his chest. His breath caught in his throat, soft brown eyes widening as he lowered his gaze to the demon, his weak, trembling hands tightening on Ryou's bloodstained shirt. "M-My… fault." Bakura managed to gasp, burying his head in the whitenette's shoulder.
"No…" Ryou whispered, tears clinging to long dark lashes. "It's not, Bakura-sama, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have said that. I'm so so sorry…" He clung to the dying spirit tighter, burying his head in silver locks stained with blood.
"No." Bakura's words were thick against Ryou's shirt, his working fingers clenching tighter still. "Not you." He mumbled, his breath trembling as he gasped weakly for air. "Not…" Ryou cried out as Bakura's tight grip went lax, and he slumped into the lights chest.
"Bakura!" The teen gasped, lifting the demons head. "Oh no…" The spirit's eyes were closed, his breathing shallower than ever. "Oh, come on, wake up." Ryou was sobbing as he stretched Bakura out on the carpet, shaking his shoulders. "Please, Bakura, please, you have to wake up, you can't go, you can't leave me! I love you too much to let you go!" Tears splashed onto the demons vacant face. "Please Bakura…" His voice broke, the last words barely higher than a whisper. "Please don't go…
Please… You can't leave me."
-sigh- Ugh.
R&R?