Paradocs: Two down, eight to go. I'm about to start Winter Holidays, which means I might get a couple of these done in the next month.
ALSO I HAVE LOST MY DRAFTS OF "Mirrors" AND "Birth of a King". SO THOSE ARE DELAYED. D8
Disclaimer: I don't own Bakura, Ryou, or Yu-Gi-Oh!. Those are all property of Kazuki Takahashi, that talented man. I do, however, own this exact piece of writing.
Title: "Perhaps"
Prompt: Complicated
Rating: PG
Summary: It should have been simple. But things change. Perhaps I was wrong in my treatment of my host. Perhaps.
Notes: GRARGH. Finals week is CRUEL.
It should have been simple.
Ryou was my host, my "landlord". I needed him for a single purpose, and that was to exist in this world. I had no emotional attachment to the boy, and he had no reason to like me. If anything, he should have hated me, feared me. I was the one who had destroyed his life, after all. I had granted his silly, childish wish to always have friends to play with, yes, but I had twisted the meaning of his words, and had stolen the souls of the friends he'd made and placed them in the figurines he used to play Monster World, the role-playing game he loved so very much.
And I considered that as the payment of my "rent", the price I had to pay for cohabitation within this body of his. That silly, frail, feminine body, tall and slender, with long white hair that was almost permanently mussed, and brown eyes that were large and soft, childlike with their innocence.
I hated that body, and I hated him. Everything about Ryou was wrong. A boy should not appear to be so frail, so girlish. How could he be seen as slender, rather than wiry, or thin, even? His hair could have been more masculine, if only he had worn it the right way, in spikes, or a rattail, anything but down around his shoulders, like a little schoolgirl. He wore clothes that covered every portion of that body, too, clothes that were just baggy enough to shroud his form, but tight enough that they didn't make him seem rebellious. He spoke quietly, with such politeness that, over the phone, I'm certain that he sounded like a girl to the person on the other end. He certainly didn't have the rough sound of the other boys, and he never used the slang that they did, either, the harsh words and curses that were so popular these days.
I hated Ryou, and yet...
I did not truly hate him. Not really. How could I hate someone who was the entire reason behind my existence? I would have to be mad to do something like that. If anything, I suppose I cared for Ryou. Cared for him, because no one else did. His father was always gone on some archaeological dig or another, his sister and mother had died in a traffic incident, and he was teased at school for his looks. Coupled with his shyness, it was no wonder the boy had no friends; it certainly didn't help that I was turning what few friends he made into plastic figurines. And, I'll admit, I always regretted doing that. Only on rare occasions, such as when I would place his tormentors' souls in the toys, did I feel like I was doing the right thing, as if I was doing my host a service, truly paying my "rent". But even then, whenever such a thing happened, Ryou would transfer schools, move yet again to a new town, a new school, a new place where nobody knew of his curse and he could begin anew, and the cycle would begin again, until, eventually, he would have to move once more.
So why did I do it, then? Why did I ruin those hard-earned friendships and force Ryou to move if I cared about him, if doing such things made me feel bad?
I suppose it was jealousy. Yes, I was jealous of those friends my host had made. And the reasons behind that jealousy seemed so petty, so ridiculously childlike that I would not dare to admit it to him, or to anyone. To do so would be the equivalent of apologizing for years of mistreatment at my hands, for neglecting his emotions for the sake of my own personal satisfaction.
And I couldn't do that. Even if I felt truly repentant for all that I'd done, for everything I'd put my host through, I could not bring myself to apologize to him. Not openly. I simply couldn't bring myself to sincerely say those words to him. "I'm sorry." Two short, simple words. Three little syllables, tossed about so carelessly by humans every single day, and yet I was unable to force them out of my mouth, despite wishing that I could do just the opposite.
But the question still remains: why was I jealous of my host's friends? I was stronger than they were, certainly. Smarter, more powerful, better-looking by far, gifted with shadow magic beyond their comprehension. But they had something I didn't.
They made Ryou laugh. My host enjoyed their company far more than he enjoyed mine. He looked forward to seeing them every single day. His friends made him happy, because it made him feel that someone cared for him, that someone wanted him around. It gave his existence a sort of purpose.
I wanted to make Ryou happy. Why didn't he enjoy my company? Shouldn't he at least look forward to seeing me? I was always with him, after all. I kept him company long after those friends of his had gone home, gone back to their whole families and simple lives. I cared for Ryou all of those nights, those long, miserable nights, when he would cry in his sleep for his mother and sister, when he'd shiver and thrash and scream in fear at some horrible nightmare he was having. Every one of those times, I was there. I would comfort him, petting his hair and wiping away his tears as I cooed to him reassuringly; I would hold him down to the bed, delving into his mind and sorting out the dreams that so plagued his sleep. I gave him dreams that he could sleep through easily. And I did it all without his knowing, without asking for his thanks. His existence had a purpose without those friends, anyway.
Ryou existed for me.
At first, it was simple. Without Ryou, without his body, I could not exist. It was vital that I kept that body in good condition, not so much for his sake as for mine. His mind and feelings were inconsequential; I did not need to trouble myself with comforting him, or even with befriending him.
But, well...
It's more complicated than that, I suppose. Because, as time has gone by, I've changed in my attitude toward my host. You humans would call this change "love", this change that has brought me from using Ryou for my own ends, never giving his emotions a thought, to comforting and caring for his well-being more than my own personal gratification.
I do not know what to call it, this change. But, if it is love, then perhaps it is as magical as you humans make it out to be. Perhaps it can make Ryou forgive me.
And, perhaps, it can make me apologize to him.
Perhaps.