A/N: Hiya. This chapter contains the vague explanation for Bakura's "lifestyle". Be afraid. It was clearer in my head but I fail to get it on paper. Oh and hey, the fic ends pretty soon (no, this isn't the last chapter), just thought you should know. Also, I don't like the part with Malik and Seto but I'm not sure what's wrong with it 0.o Tell me if you figure it out, ok?

Shattered Crescent

Part Fourteen

The combination of hunger and lack of Bakura stirred Ryou awake. It appeared that Bakura had taken his request to stay for 'a while' too seriously. Asking him to stay forever would have been a bad idea too, though.

Ryou got up to open the curtains. The sun shone into his eyes and did nothing to cheer him up. He knew he shouldn't feel this bad that Bakura had left without a word. Something must have come up. It wasn't like he was the only thing Bakura needed to attend to.

He didn't feel like staying indoors now that there was nothing to stay for. Ignoring his hunger, he went to put on his shoes.

"Why aren't you at home?" Hiroto was glad to put his work aside for a bit but it was in no way a good sign that Ryou was back, looking even worse than before leaving.

"Um, I needed to talk to you…" Ryou didn't look Hiroto in the eye.

"Can't it wait for tomorrow?"

"If you're busy…"

"It's not that," he cut the other off before Ryou could continue. "You're just not… You've seen better days." Hiroto frowned, realizing something was missing. "Where's that Mikazuki guy?"

"He left." Ryou's stomach protested so loudly even Hiroto didn't have trouble hearing it.

"Without feeding you?!" Last time he ever trusted that bastard to take care of Ryou. "He left you alone?!"

"You're making it sound like I'm a child… or a pet."

Hiroto forced himself to calm down. There was no use upsetting Ryou more. "Sorry, sorry… I thought he'd take better care of you."

Ryou smiled. "I hoped he would." He looked awkward for a moment. "Um, the reason I'm here… I just want you to know that Bakura, he… I mean, you're not less important just because I'm seeing someone."

"Oh." That wasn't what Hiroto had been expecting. "I thought it was a bit more than just 'seeing'."

Ryou blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I thought you were in love with him." Hiroto had always known that he wouldn't be Ryou's only comfort forever. In fact, he had hoped he wouldn't be so Ryou could be happy. Then 'Bakura' had waltzed right in and left Hiroto wondering how Ryou found the one guy he had no chance of getting along with.

Ryou turned an interesting shade of red while looking confused by Hiroto's assumption and irritated by his own reaction, or the other way around. "I'm not- I mean, it's not- I, we-"

Hiroto interrupted the other who looked rather overwhelmed. "It's ok, you don't have to explain it to me."

"I feel that I do." The red of his face faded somewhat. "I know you don't like him."

"Yeah, well…" Hiroto took a moment to think up a nice way to put it. "He's a bit of an asshole." Not that he had ever liked any of the people Ryou chose to get involved with but his dislike for 'Bakura' was in another category all together. If only Ryou didn't like the guy so much, Hiroto felt like he could learn to stand him.

Ryou laughed. "Don't let him get to you." He reached out to touch Hiroto's arm, smiling. "You're still my best friend."

For a reason he couldn't quite grasp, Hiroto had to face away. "Uh, yeah, you too."

After Ryou left, to go home he hoped, Hiroto was left rubbing his arm and wondering if the reassurance of their friendship being intact should have made him feel better than it had.

"Mr. Kaiba, there's an Ishizu Ishtar here to see you."

Seto told to send her in. Ishizu Ishtar, after entering, stopped to stand in the middle of the room, a good deal away from Seto's desk.

"I came here to apologize."

"Why didn't Malik come?" The first name slipped out almost without him noticing. Ishizu didn't miss it either.

"He didn't think you would take too kindly to him coming here."

Seto resisted the urge to smirk. "Ms. Ishtar, he gave me a flesh wound."

"He intended to kill you," Ms. Ishtar pointed out. She didn't look happy to be where she was, either. And she wasn't the one Seto wanted to talk to.

"Where is he?"

"You wish to see him," she stated as if there was some way she could know it without a doubt. She was well posed, and he could respect that, but if she kept assuming, they would have a problem. Seto didn't point any of this out, instead telling her that she was correct.

"He's waiting in the lobby."

The surprise showed only as a raised eyebrow before he had someone fetch Malik. Soon, the man was ushered through the door. He removed his hood and Seto offered him a smile as fake as they get, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

"Have a seat."

Malik eyed the chair and glanced at his sister before sitting down. "I suppose I should thank you for not turning me in."

"Perhaps I was too lenient." To Seto, Malik didn't seem as sorry as his sister had made it sound.

"I only came here because Ishizu wanted me to," Malik explained, voice toneless but expression betraying his suspicion. "I don't know why." He looked as if he expected Seto to have an explanation.

"She must have thought you would apologize."

"There's nothing to apologize about."

"Really," Seto said. "Not even for attacking me?"

"The only reason I could feel sorry for is not managing to kill you."

"But you don't."

Malik looked over at his sister but turned his eyes back to Seto as he spoke. "No."

"Maybe that's why I won't turn you in."

Malik smirked but it was far from arrogant or victorious. "I don't think you needed to worry about getting killed in the first place." Ms. Ishtar sifted in the background. "I was destined to fail." Malik sounded bitter.

Seto wondered if that was what Malik thought or if his sister had forced the belief on him. "Destiny or no destiny, it doesn't change what happened. The past is of no importance." It wasn't meant as an 'I forgive you' but now that he thought of it, that was exactly what it sounded like.

The other looked at his feet as he mulled it over. His mouth started to tilt up a little in thought. "We should concentrate on the future, then."

Seto nodded. "Exactly."

When Malik lifted his head to face him, Seto saw that it wasn't a smirk. His eyes were smiling too.

Bakura woke up and realized he was holding onto his pillow with white knuckles. He loosened his grip, calming his breathing.

The dream hadn't been particularly erotic, just an alternative continuation of what had happened in Ryou's office. In stead of putting things to a stop when he had, his dream-self had taken things a little further, and the dream-Ryou had let him.

A shower was the better one of the two solutions he could think of because Bakura knew whose name he would be moaning if he touched himself.

Good thing he had cleaned his apartment the day before. The trek to the bathroom was easier when he didn't have to worry about tripping over things. He had never bothered with cleaning before but something had come over him and…

Alright, he had wanted to avoid thinking about a certain someone. The fact that he hadn't gone out to pick a fight must have meant that he was growing up. At least, cleaning felt like a grownup thing to do. Running out of someone's life just like that on the other hand didn't.

Bakura shook his head. He didn't want to think about Ryou; it made him feel bad.

He wasn't a vengeful teenager anymore. Later on in his life, when he had pushed aside all the self-righteous bullshit about getting back at the world for destroying his childhood, Bakura had realized that everything he did was to make himself feel better. It had never been about his parents who had died in such a tragic manner. It was because he was a self-centered asshole. The world was there to please him. All the people he killed or slept with barely counted as human beings.

Ryou had amused him greatly with his defiance and had managed to be desirable while doing so. The perfect new toy for a bored, spoiled child. The problem was that the toy felt and reacted to the things around him more strongly than the one playing. 'It' had turned out to be more human than 'he' could ever hope to be.

Bakura stopped to look at his ring after removing it from his finger and before placing it next to the sink. The small points hung around the wide band and reflected the bathroom light. It had belonged to his mother but she had always claimed it was the ugliest piece of jewelry.

After standing under the showerhead for what felt like enough, he toweled off and searched for clean clothes while drying his hair. He found his cell phone under a pile of clothing. It was turned off.

Shouldn't the knowledge that now Ryou could be happy make him feel better if he truly cared for the other? Bakura felt like crap and his own apathy was starting to irritate him. Thinking wouldn't make anything better, he had to do something. A glance towards the window solved his problem.

There were rain clouds on the horizon. It was a good day for a little supply hunting.

It wasn't normal for him to be rash when it came to supplies. He planned, picked someone out of the crowd. Now, anyone walking down the street alone would do.

The graying clouds chased people back inside but there were still a few others out and about. He heard footsteps behind him and a glance over his shoulder told that it was a lone male with his nose in a newspaper. No one else was around.

He hid in an alley and waited until his target walked past. He grabbed it by the face so it couldn't scream and pulled back, deeper into the alley. The muffled sound of alarm changed into gurgling as blood ran down the victim's windpipe.

He listened to the sounds around him, the distant car motor, the rats in the alleyway trash, before letting go of the dead weight. They were deep enough in the alley to prevent a random by passer from seeing the body if said by passer wasn't paying attention.

The body had landed face first into the pavement so he turned it around. Empty eyes stared at nothing little to the left of his shoulder. He crouched over and removed a rubber glove to feel the blood gathering next to the victim.

This was supposed to help, to keep his mind from wandering to places he didn't need it to. Yet, even as he gazed at his red finger tips, all he could think about was the taste of Ryou's mouth.

Ryou tried calling Bakura, to find out why he had left in such a hurry, but no one picked up. After trying to reach the other for a few days without success, he gave up calling, feeling confused, a little let down.

Emerging himself in his work, Ryou pushed the feeling aside. He went through all his past notes and brought as much material from the station as he could, stacking everything in his living room. He tore off the post-it note reminding him not to make Honda worry from his bathroom mirror.

His friend tried calling him a couple of times before Ryou turned his phone off. He didn't want to be questioned about his relapse in working habits. The longer he stayed in the apartment, the harder it was to leave. The fridge and cupboards became empty as days went by. Ryou lost count of the times he just wandered into the kitchen, opened his fridge, realized it was empty and went back to the living room.

Being alone didn't do good things to his mental state. Sleep evaded him more and more, and when he did sleep, he had nightmares.

Honda came knocking on his door one day. Ryou considered not answering but when the other banged on the door, yelling that he wouldn't leave until Ryou opened, he did. Honda was holding two grocery bags, face twisted in worry and frustration. He took one look at Ryou and lifted the bags.

"I knew you'd need these," he told, pushing past Ryou into the apartment. Honda sighed when he looked at the piles of paper in the living room as he passed it on his way to the kitchen. Ryou followed suit after closing the door.

Honda placed the grocery bags on the kitchen table, turning to Ryou who stood in the doorway. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Ryou could tell that Honda worked hard not to sound accusing. He focused his stare on a chair leg before answering. "I had a lot of work to do." Not a complete lie.

"Why couldn't you work at the station, then?"

"I wanted some peace and quiet."

Honda didn't sound convinced. "Ryou…"

"Bakura won't answer my calls." Ryou's voice was barely above a whisper. For a moment he wasn't sure if Honda had heard. He hoped he hadn't.

"I fucking knew it," Honda muttered under his breath, then louder, addressing his words to Ryou. "Have you tried going to see him?"

Ryou had considered it but what were the chances of Bakura wanting to see him if he didn't even want to talk to him? "I don't know if I should…"

"You can't let him treat you like this."

"I…" He didn't have much to say to that.

"I thought he was into you," Honda went on. "You know what? You should search him out and kick his ass."

Ryou raised his eyes to meet Honda's. "You think he liked me?" He regretted not sticking with the chair leg; he didn't need to see the pity.

"I'm not an expert but it sure looked like it to me." Honda frowned in thought. "Or at least he wanted to sleep with you…" Something seemed to occur to him. "Don't tell me he dumped you after-?"

"No," Ryou interrupted. "We never slept together like that." He grimaced at how sad he sounded about it. He didn't want to think about it. "I just… I keep thinking that it was something I did. Something I said or didn't do that drove him away."

Honda sighed. "You would think that." He began to unload the bags, putting everything where it belonged. It wasn't the first time he had done the shopping for Ryou.

The notion caused Ryou to frown. "You think I'm wrong?" He couldn't help but sound irritated. The other stopped in the middle of placing something on a shelf, turning to Ryou.

"Listen, you think it's your fault by default and you're always wrong." He put the bag of sugar down, pausing as though thinking something over, all the while looking embarrassed, awkward. "You're the sweetest, the most caring, person I know. Only an idiot would find something wrong in that."

Honda looked away after speaking and left Ryou speechless. He hadn't heard his friend speak like that before. "Um, I…"

"At least go find out if he's as much of a fool as I think he is." Honda refused to look at him, instead starting to place the groceries on the shelves with more force than necessary. Ryou was still in a loss for words, wondering if the reason for the behavior was just the anger caused by Bakura mistreating him or if there was something else he couldn't see. Whatever the reason, Honda's advice wasn't bad.

"You should eat something first."

Ryou nodded and moved to take a seat, mute.

Brush moved on canvas, spreading the red over the white, large lines before the detail. Finished ones were leaning on the walls, standing on newspaper, and sketches for new ones were lined on the couch. Bakura had worked all night and it was long into the afternoon. Sleep was yet to catch him.

The figure in the painting was starting to take on some familiar features so he smeared it, painted over the old strokes. The doorbell rang, striking a nerve and earning an innocent painting a glare. Bakura marched to the door and threw it open.

He should learn how to check who it was before opening the door.

Ryou looked put down, the dark semi-circles under his eyes stood out more against his pale skin.

"Hi…"

Bakura stared, wondering how much of the other's state was his doing. It seemed that his valiant effort of keeping Ryou from getting hurt had hurt him more than expected.

"I don't know what I did to make you avoid me but I'm sorry, I really am."

The words made Bakura flinch. God, he had messed up. "There's nothing you need to feel sorry about."

"So," Ryou frowned, "'It's not you it's me', then?"

Laughing wouldn't be the best course of action but it was difficult to miss the irony. Bakura's mouth tilted up. "It is Me."

Ryou didn't follow. The sadness on his face was getting replaced by anger. "If you want to break up with me, you should just tell me. Do you have any idea how much being ignored, without knowing why, hurts? Do you even care?"

"I do care." He wished he didn't. "It's better if you stay away from Me."

"How is that better?!"

Bakura had nothing to say to that. Ryou looked worse without him.

The lack of answer added frustration to the anger. "I don't get you. First you pursue me and when you have me you decide that it's better if we're not together. Do you have commitment issues or do you just enjoy being indecisive?"

"My options don't sound so good."

"If this is a joke to yo-" Ryou glared at the finger that had interrupted him but the worst of his anger seemed to melt away.

Bakura realized too late that it had been a mistake to touch Ryou. Whatever it was that he had interrupted Ryou for didn't feel so important now. The lips were soft.

"This," he whispered, not quite managing to lift his eyes enough to look Ryou in the eye, "is very serious."

Ryou stopped breathing, as though realizing what was about to happen before Bakura had the chance to act. The finger was removed in favor of lips. He had been stupid to think that he could stay away.

Ryou pushed him off. The eyes he was met with were shining with unshed tears. "Don't," Ryou shook his head. "Don't toy with me, please."

"I won't." This time Bakura took Ryou's head between his hands so he wouldn't get way. Ryou struggled, tried to pull away but Bakura, following his irrational and selfish desires, refused to let go.

When Ryou grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and yanked back, Bakura complied and backed away. The other's lips were swollen and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve before looking Bakura in the eye. The stare was accusing.

Bakura raised his hands and took a step back so that he was standing inside his apartment, leaving Ryou plenty of room to escape if Bakura tried something he didn't agree with.

"I'm sorry." Bakura wasn't sure if he meant it. Ryou didn't look so sure either.

"Look, I," he started. "I really like you, Bakura, and I missed you but…"

"Is this the part where you tell Me you never want to see Me again?"

Ryou smiled a little but didn't look happy about what he was going to say. "No. It's not." He sighed and Bakura noticed the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'd ask you to not make me regret it if I didn't know you would probably lie."

"Ouch." Ryou was right to assume what he did, though. Had he asked what he said he wouldn't, Bakura would have told him that he wouldn't regret it.

They stood there for a moment. Ryou wasn't looking him in the eye, rather at his cheek. "Um, you have…" he reached towards Bakura but stopped before he could touch him, hesitating and letting his hand fall back to his side. "You have something on your face," he told, pointing the spot from his own cheek, "Here."

"I was painting." Bakura made no move to wipe the stain off. He was about to ask the other to come in but Ryou beat him to it.

"Can I come watch?" Ryou asked. "If it won't disturb you."

Bakura smirked. "Come right in." He stepped aside so Ryou could comply. "And don't worry; I won't even remember that you're there."

That was a lie.

I dare you to tell me that thinking about one's only one while mercilessly killing isn't romantic.