SHIT INTRO THING

I do not have any, and nor do I claim any ownership of Yu-Gi-Oh! and it's characters; I'm merely a fan with too much time on their incapable hands. (I so want to own YGO now.)

Inspired by the songs Plans by Bloc Party and The Trickster by Radiohead. If you know these songs, I love you.

Warning: This story will possibly contain implied rape, self-harm, drug use, vivid hallucinations, sexual encounters, mentions of attempted suicide, character death and other extremely unlucky adult situations. These are just precautions, and content is definitely subject to change. But don't kill me if I ruined your innocent mind (though that'd be quite an achievement considering some of the content on this site). There also might be some coarse language, though I'll try to keep it to a minimum if there is.

The rating, however, will not deviate from what I've chosen. I don't believe it to be suitable for a younger audience (though I doubt that'd stop them from reading anyway).

Contains yaoi (ie – boyxboy), though this isn't smut. For those that don't wish to believe it, let me repeat it again; no lemon, no smut, no questionable conduct of a citrusy flavour. There is sex, but it's mostly implied.

Mostly consists of tendershipping (Ryou x Yami Bakura), but also has mentions of angstshipping (Ryou x Marik) and blueshipping (Kaiba x Kisara). There may be more pairings in the future.

Sorry to waste your time, but a warning was obviously necessary. Though I doubt you actually read it. Gah, whatever. Feel free to shoot me any questions/reviews. Or, just shoot me, I guess.

-Zlae

PROLOGUE

"Don't," he demanded through shaking lips as calloused fingertips began caressing his sides. It was like friction, raising the hairs on his arms and coiling within him like a tense snake, waiting to strike and lash out. The hands continued, and he squeezed his eyes so hard he thought the skin would tear, so that he would have no option but to stare at the face of his assailant. "Please," he whispered, as a single tear fell without his command. Was that what he had intended? Did he mean to disallow this ravaging of his fragile body? Or was he asking, unbeknownst to himself, for the hands to continue to roam, to give him this satisfaction he didn't believe he deserved?

How long had it been since he had allowed human contact? How long, for someone to look at him with genuine appreciation in their eyes, and not cringe at the scars that adorned his shrunken body? Far too long, since he could not remember the last time a fleeting touch had made bumps arise from his pale skin.

His eyes roamed within their respective lids, as if aware of the blackness that encompassed them, but not making any move to break free. As if they were content with their situation and made no move to stop it. All he could see was black. All there ever will be is a small stain, such is the unimportant event known as his life. And yet, he didn't think he was dissatisfied with this. To not know used to tear him apart with questions.

Now it was just easier not to bother. That is why he made no real effort to resist the situation that faced him now – it would come and go, and he would live on. He would endure, as he always did. But still he could not stop the tear that courageously escaped.

The uninvited man growled softly, lifting the arm that had previously been pinning the other's to the wall. Instead he opted for an almost frightening display of control, letting the hints of a sardonic smile appear on his lips as they twisted upwards. He leaned forward at an achingly slow pace, leaving the pinned man with nothing to think about but the horrid anticipation of their lips meeting. His eyes remained closed as he felt cold lips press against his, the scars of his own compared to the smooth nothingness of the attacker creating a rough contrast of differently led lives. The salt and self-pity that was his tears mingled in their one-sided kiss, and he knew the other could taste it, too.

He felt strangely vulnerable then, as if he had let the man see a side of him that begged for an ounce of understanding. It was as if he was a scared animal, giving into defeat and letting the larger animal smell his fear. But he would get no understanding from a disgusting man that had no one to love him, thus causing him to force himself onto others.

Sharp fingernails dug into his arm as the ravaging of his mouth continued. The pinned man did nothing; not even respond. The assaulter bit the other's bottom lip, drawing blood. More tears pricked his eyes as the man forced his way into his mouth. Attempting some sort of defiance, the pinned man turned his pale head to the side, just as the man's unused arm snaked upwards. He gripped the pinned man's jaw with white fingertips, forcing their eyes to meet.

Then almond met almond, and the prey could almost swear he was watching a twisted version of himself, finally become the predator upon his own, disarrayed mind. It was true; there was no one to love him, not even this parody of himself. There was confusion; a moment of stilled, shocked silence. The man's lips were moving, but he couldn't hear anything; the world was tearing apart, and he was just barely clinging onto the frays of his presumed reality.

As he opened his bruised mouth to scream, there was white, as if the world had finally decided to shed light on this sin he had unwillingly indulged in.

Tell me what you think!

Reviews, suggestions, comments, etc.

Phew, all done.