A/N: I'm getting so confused between the original and the new version… XP

… On a side note, I keep looking at this title and wondering… what kind of drug was I on when I thought of this? XD

Sweet Perfected Naivety Meets Its Counterpart

Chapter 5: Out of the Ordinary

By LilPurplFlwr

Standing outside the game shop with Yuugi's grandfather, Ryou bounced anxiously on the balls of his feet, his eyes darting from one dim-lighted end of the street to the other. Sugoroku Mutou faired a little better with his nerves and opted to fidgeting with the phone in his wrinkled hands. It was already past one in the morning – probably even closer to two a.m.

Suddenly to their left, a slim figure emerged cradling another. The person cautiously looked around before entering the illuminated area around the large house.

"Yuugi!" Sugoroku rushed up to his grandson, who looked like he was slipping in and out of consciousness.

"Oh my god…" Ryou murmured, following in Yuugi's grandfather's footsteps, "Yuugi? Yuugi…" He received no response. "Yami? That's your name, right? Is… is Yuugi okay?"

"What happened?" the aged man demanded, his fingers already shakily dialing the hospital.

"Yuugi pushed me out of the way when a gang member tried to kick me – he took the blow instead. Some ribs might be broken," the crimson-eyed teen answered concisely, his attention flickering to Yuugi, who was inhaling shakily as pain began to fill his wakening senses.

"Get him into the car," Sugoroku ordered tersely.

At some point in his sleep, Malik seemed to have regained some cognizant sense, but in the post-sex haze, there was little concern or even thought in his mind. He was comfortably warm, but there was not a presence near him. As he fell back asleep, Malik decided that he just had the most unadulterated wet dream in his life last night… hopefully Bakura, who shared the bed with him, did not mind the result.

-

The door slammed open violently with equally enflamed indigo eyes flashing death.

"Do you know what time it is, fucker?" he enraged in a hiss, spotting the leader of the gang.

The other simply rolled his eyes, "Shut up. I simply came along to inform you that the plan –"

"—No, you fucking dumbass. It doesn't work like this," the first snarled angrily, pulling the printout from the other's hands and shredding it to pieces. One hand whipped to the base of his spine and touched the handle of the blade secured there.

Unruffled, the other shot back, "Haven't you ever heard the phrase; what I say, goes?"

"Fuck this shit," the blonde Egyptian repeated, "Everyone's going to die. It. Is. Not. Going. To. Work," he enunciated heavily as if speaking to a child, "Don't you care about the consequences?"

He could not believe he was discussing this right within his own room's doorway.

"No. I don't really care," admitted the leader with a shrug, his dark eyes narrowed maliciously, "It's information, plain and simple."

"Going through with this is pure fucking stupidity," Mariku warned, the knuckles of his fist turning white from frustration as it clenched the doorframe, "You know already that, individually, one of them can take on more than one person!"

"How do we know that?" was the arrogant reply, "We know that because we went through with our attacks."

"Which I told you was foolish before," Mariku stopped and sighed, relaxing, "I can't believe I'm having this conversation of I-told-you-so. They aren't a group to be played with."

"You can shut up. You aren't the leader here."

… Not yet, he wasn't.

He could have been… but there had been no real motivation… until Malik, that is.

"Whatever. And you aren't very smart. We're even."

With that, the door slammed between them.

A familiar, but now dull ache rolled through Yuugi's side. Groaning, the seventeen-year-old tentatively opened one vapid violet eye and winced as streams of bright sunlight peered into the room through the hospital blinds. Slowly, he moved to clear his eyesight by rubbing his eyes, but the tight bandages wrapped around his chest restricted his movement. He frowned, peering down at the white material, and began to look around the empty room.

He heard the soft noise of footsteps outside in the hall, and then the door opened and Sugoroku came in with a cup of coffee.

"Yuugi!" his grandfather said happily, "It's about time you woke up!"

"Ohayo, jii-chan," Yuugi replied weakly.

"Morning?" the gray-haired elder laughed, relieved that his grandson was going to be fine, "It's a little late for that! It's almost four."

Yuugi's eyes widened comically, before he decided to dismiss it – he had been passed out, after all, "What's… wrong with me?"

"Two cracked ribs," his grandfather nodded wisely, "Lucky for you, they weren't completely broken or anything. So it might be three to five weeks of rest for you, young man."

Yuugi rolled his eyes before closing them with a little sigh, "Yes, oh joy, how fortunate."

In the distance, a nurse in the hospital yelled at some children to stop running in the halls. Yuugi opened his eyes just in time to see Anzu poke her head in through the door.

"Oh! Thank goodness you're awake! How are you feeling?" she asked, walking into the room, followed closely by an abashed Ryou (who was embarrassed to be caught by the nurse).

"I'm alright," Yuugi smiled, "It feels a lot better than last night."

"It'll feel a lot better after you take some drugs," Ryou added with a wry smile, trying to make the other laugh, "Those painkillers really work."

"I'm sure that I'll need them for school tomorrow," Yuugi noted with a grimace.

"Hah!" his grandfather barked, "You think you're going to school tomorrow? Well, you're wrong there!"

"What!" Yuugi murmured, "But I have to go! Or I'll be behind in all my classes!"

"It's okay," Ryou said calmly, probably the one and only student in the school who managed to keep up with his classes without a mental breakdown, "Anzu and I could pick up all your assignments and lend you our notes."

"Sure thing, Yuugi," Anzu agreed, "Nothing to worry about."

"There you go," Yuugi's grandfather said triumphantly, "You'll probably miss the whole next week of school also..."

Yuugi groaned softly. Sugoroku looked confused. Didn't students love to miss school?

"So what happened last night?" Anzu asked worriedly, "I mean, it's not exactly a daily occurrence that someone would kick you and break your ribs."

"Well, that's what happened," Yuugi said quietly, a little unnerved by all the attention, "Besides, my ribs aren't broken. Cracked."

"Well, I need to go back to man the shop now, Yuugi," his grandfather informed with weariness lacing his voice, "We have to wait for the doctor's opinion on your condition, so I'll come pick you up if they call me."

"Okay," Yuugi replied dutifully, becoming preoccupied about the other's health and spirit as Sugoroku slowly walked to the door. "Jii-chan…?"

The old man stopped and turned, "Hai, Yuugi?"

"…" Yuugi hesitated, "I love you, jii-chan. Don't work too hard."

A happy chuckle emerged from his grandfather, "Get better, Yuugi."

"MALIK? Malik!"

The silence was shattered with Mai's disbelieving voice. Malik jolted from his sleep and found himself lying on the couch right back at home.

Mai knelt down by the couch, her hand brushing the Egyptian's pale blonde hair with an atypical touch, "I can't… believe… it," she murmured, trying to regain her usual composure, "I'm so glad you're alright…" she finally said with a sense of relieved affection.

In came Jou, panting from running, followed closely by Yami. It was not difficult to hear Mai's voice when necessary, and the sight of Malik floored them both. The two blinked, and Jou reached up to rub his amber eyes.

"What's wrong? No hugs?" Malik teased, too amused at their reactions to wander back in his memory to understand why their reactions were so dynamic.

"… Ehh, no," Jou finally said, "But… I'm glad you're back…"

"An explanation would be nice," Yami pointed out, dropping to the floor with a sigh. He inhaled deeply between his hands and rubbed his face, trying to wake up. Damn, he was exhausted after such a night.

"I…" Malik stopped, and finally said, "I don't have one… I don't know."

The three looked at each other with worry evident on their faces. Malik felt over his body for his blades and found each one in their usual spots. He was impressed that Mariku held such details close to heart –

His lavender eyes narrowed. Oh. Now it came back to him.

"… Where's Bakura?" Malik asked childishly, needing his confidante and best friend. Preferably now.

"Speak of the devil," Yami murmured, having been closest to the door and could hear the said person approaching.

Bakura walked in at that very moment, holding what looked like a bag of groceries. He choked upon sight of Malik.

"Bakura… I…" Malik started, but the other closed his eyes for a second.

Everyone held their breath as Bakura looked like he was doing a mental count to ten; that, or a breathing exercise. Seconds later, he opened his eyes and scrutinized the apparition of his friend. He walked to the small kitchen and set down the bag on the counter, and stared blankly at the stove.

"… Is… he okay?" Mai whispered, becoming very anxious at the other's behavior. "We're one big, happy family again, and Bakura goes and hides in another room?"

Malik swung his legs off the couch and gasped as a twinge of pain shot up his back. Even though farther away, Bakura looked up with alarm, before his widened eyes gave way to realization as he turned and saw how Malik was holding himself up. He strode back into his room, and pushed Mai aside, crouching beside Malik with the usual evil glint manifesting in his eyes.

"I think I'm onto you," Bakura said slowly, and with no further ado, pulled Malik's shirt up.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Malik yelled, forgetting just how perceptive Bakura was, as he tugged his shirt back down with a flush across his face.

"It looks consensual to me," the other replied wisely, seeing as this was probably the second thing he was a connoisseur of. Sex came right after fighting, after all.

Or was it the other way around?

The others gaped soundlessly. This was nowhere near what they expected.

"Do… you know what this means?" Mai asked Jou, mockingly looking awestruck as the atmosphere lightened considerably.

"Malik-baby got some las' night?" Jou replied in an innocent sing-song voice.

"YOU DIE," Malik threatened with a deep growl, his hand reaching for his most convenient knife. Only to find it missing.

"Looking for this?" With a quirked eyebrow, Bakura fished out Malik's blade from his belt, but as he handed it to his friend, his stare turned deadly parental, "Explain."

"Shit. That's freaky, Bakura," Yami interjected, having been reserved this entire time.

"We want to know. He's going to tell us," Bakura answered firmly, "So, pray tell, Malik."

Malik grimaced. He would have rather done this in private, seeing as he really did not want to divulge his secrets to the whole gang… even though he ought to – they were family, after all.

"… My ex is into staging kidnappings?"

The group laughed lightly, and Malik pouted – it was true, in its own special way.

"Not your ex anymore, apparently," Bakura pressed, knowing the other a little too well.

Malik frowned, a wave of confusion washing over him, "… I don't know… I…"

"Whatever it is –" Mai stood up and stretched, "You're safe and it's not nice to kiss and tell!"

"Oi, 'dey grow up so fast," Jou added with a grin, "Off and having illicit relationships and all."

"… Jou, please come here so I may kill you first," Malik said sweetly, pulling out his knife.

"Ah, peaceful life at home again," Yami muttered, picking himself up from the floor and dragging himself to bed.

Seto Kaiba always knew there was something annoying about mornings… but Monday mornings were the worst. The detestable feeling he always got waking up on Mondays was always full of mechanical regret.

No. Mornings never brought a new start – they brought back the memory of missed opportunity or plain incompletion. Perhaps some impertinent news about the new upgrade had manifested in his absence, maybe one of the computers had a new virus that no one had been able to eradicate, what if…

Even worse, Sunday had been stolen from his little brother by a contract needing completion for today.

Still… Seto had never been one to dwell on the past (hell no!) and, as usual, forced the gloomy feeling away as he prepared for the upcoming day with plenty of black coffee.

Before leaving for the high school, the brunette had woken up his little brother, who apparently felt no need to use the alarm on the clock that he had designed himself.

His reason? Something in the line of "Nii-sama… why does it matter if you're always up before ME? Be responsible, yeah?"

Seto still found that amusing.

Now, unlike what people suspected, Seto did not find comfort in being chauffeured to school in a limousine or equally fancy vehicle – perhaps for meetings and public appearances, he could tolerate the treatment, but daily?

Never.

Yes, he drove to school himself. Though a very different high school student, he still regained the urge to be behind the wheel – in control, essentially.

However, someone had tampered with his car over the weekend. It stopped about a quarter way to school.

"Shit!" he cursed, "What has Mokuba done to it NOW?" he muttered, turning the key in the ignition a few fruitless times, "Does he ever realize how expensive this damn thing is?"

Getting out of his car, the rich brown-haired teenager wondered what the hell he was going to do. Computers, he could handle; mechanics was anotherstory.

Popping open the hood, Seto groaned when he saw a scribbled note that said, 'Joke's on you, big brother! Because you didn't take me out on Sunday, I'm getting back at you.'

He felt more angry at himself than Mokuba for not making time (or passing up a little work) for his younger brother. Seto drummed his fingers thoughtfully on his car. 'What to do, what to do?'

"Something wrong with your car?"

Seto turned quickly to see who was asking and saw a rather attractive blond teenager, approximately his age if not slightly younger, wearing a tight deep blue shirt and very tattered jeans. No, not the deliberate slashes that teens made in their newly bought pants, but genuinely worn and torn jeans... as if the boy got into a lot of scuffles. It was so strange to see such a style of dress and living in the high society that Seto lived in.

Continuing to muse to himself, Seto observed that some parts were nearly shredded, like below the knees and around the waist and upper leg. Seto had to stop himself from continuing to examine the other's lower body.

The blonde coughed softly, knocking the brunette out of his reverie, and even had the audacity to look amused.

"Actually, yes," Seto admitted as collectively as he could, deciding to swallow his pride just this once, "My younger brother played with my car, apparently." The note was crumbled and shoved unceremoniously into his pocket.

"I see," the stranger mused, eyeing the situation, "Mind if I take a look?"

"Not at all," Seto replied just as graciously as he stepped aside.

"By the way," the blonde smiled disarmingly, pushing himself from the wall and approaching the other, "The name's Jou, short for Jounouchi."

"Kaiba Seto," the older adolescent answered traditionally.

Jou walked over to the hood of the car and peered into the mess of machinery. He inhaled sharply, trying to calm his nerves. Seto Kaiba was so much more stunning in person, with sharp, crystal darkened blue eyes, amber-streaked chestnut hair, and, overall, just striking features.

"What's wrong?" Seto peered worriedly over Jou's shoulder.

"Oh!" Jou withdrew slightly, a little surprised that the CEO was so close to him, "Oh. Umm, your brother did an impressive job, but..."

Swiftly in the next minute, Jou had quickly reconnected everything back to the rightful positions.

"Heh. Piece of cake," Jou muttered to himself, wiping his hands off, "Nothing to it."

Seto blinked a few times, his eyes sweeping the car, "So that's how it's supposed to look like."

"Better believe it," Jou quipped as he slammed the hood down, "Better get to school."

Automatically, the taller teenager pulled out a checkbook from the breast pocket of his trench coat he wore over his school uniform. A pen followed the suit, and Seto looked up with his usual business-dealing expression with the writing instrument poised to scribble.

"Name your price."

Jou's mouth nearly dropped open from the gesture for a couple of reasons. Jou was shocked just to see the reality of the other's vast wealth; imagine if the gang had such resources… how much easier life would be! Secondly, aside from just seeing a checkbook in the hands of an, what, eighteen-year-old, Jou was struck with amazement that the other could be so monetarily shallow.

"Y'know," Jou finally said, choosing his words carefully, "A simple thank you would suffice."

"I insist," the CEO said, his voice a little chilly. Jou realized with a twinge of fear just how tough the business world got when Seto Kaiba had arrived.

"I can't," the blonde offered for an explanation, shaking his head vehemently.

Seto slowly returned the checkbook to his coat, too surprised at the rejection to respond but covering it up well. "What would you like then…?" he asked cautiously, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of his car.

"Again… a –"

"Thank you for your assistance, but that aside," Seto smirked, effectively cutting the other off, "What. Do. You. Want."

Jou would have liked a nice thick brick wall between them now. It looked like they would be here for a while unless he came up with something.

"Oi… close your eyes," Jou finally said, coming up with an idea. He just hoped he could run fast enough once he had completed it.

"…" The hesitation was as evident as the nose on Jou's face, and the other stoically stood motionless, waiting for some sort of rationalization.

"Trust me? That's all I ask."

I'm such an idiot, thought Seto, as he let his eyes slide close, last seeing the blonde close the distance between them, Why the hell am I… trusting… him…

Jou took one second to admire the other's smooth expression. Seto Kaiba was full of surprises - that was for sure. But Jou felt that any more time wasted would be a betrayal of the other's trust (and security), so he swiftly leaned up and brushed his lips against Seto's mouth.

The brunette's eyes shot up at the warm sensation against his mouth, one hand flying to touch his lips. Jou flushed, mentally kicking himself. The other's deep mystified stare burned into his head. Yet, his body was not allowing him for a quick escape.

A chuckle escaped Jou, and he finally broke the silence by turning away, the loose asphalt shifting beneath his sneakers, "That definitely makes us even."

Seto could not even bring himself to reply. Jou waved a hand casually and left the way he had come, blending right into the shadows of the alley across from where the car had stalled.

"See you later, Kaiba," was the fleeting phrase Seto caught as he absently got back into his car, barely contemplating what had just happened. Turning on the ignition and stepping on the gas, he thoughtfully licked his lips and wondered when he would ever see the blonde teenager again.

It was only three-thirty in the afternoon, but Ryou was becoming increasingly nervous as he walked down the little street Rieki to Yuugi's house to deliver and work on homework. The chilly winter breeze made him pull the books against his chest tighter.

'Now I know how Yuugi feels every time he needs to walk home,' Ryou thought grimly to himself, the mere slum-like environment making him uncomfortable.

Suddenly, a heavy hand clamped down on the Ryou's shoulder and the unique waft of alcohol assaulted his nose. He stifled a scream, but a choked gasp escaped his throat.

"We-ell… aren't you -," the man hiccupped and leaned precariously near Ryou's face, "- a cute thing."

Ryou's chocolate-brown eyes widened fearfully. His paranoia of trouble had just come true.

-

"Fucking bastards," Bakura cursed as he dodged into the dark street, a crimson-stained blade in each of his equally tainted hands.

He was back in (assumingly) safe territory – home, that was. Bakura scowled deeply at the rivulets of blood that dripped from several slashes on his body. He had been jumped by a small group of gangsters that consisted of blade users, but Bakura got away as quickly as possible.

Bakura was starting to think that there had to be some sort of reason that attacks became more frequent and more into the eyes of the normal public. Therefore, he wanted little contact with them – no fighting, no killing. The city was already calling in extra enforcement for solving this spreading gang problem, and Bakura knew he needed to watch every step he took. It was self-defense now.

He was not stupid enough to get himself caught for murder. Not again, at least.

-

"I don't want any trouble," Ryou said as assertively as he could, but he quickly began to panic as the man easily had the strength to press him up against a brick wall.

The urgency at which Ryou was trapped beneath the stranger clearly indicated that the man was more than just plastered.

"Stay away from me!" Ryou exclaimed fervently, pushing the drunk away with the heavy load of books in his arms enough to slip away and run.

However, the inebriated man was undeterred to satisfy his needs and managed quite easily to bring Ryou down to the floor by a half-trip-half-shove method.

Ryou cried out in pain as his body was thrown forward onto the cement with a solid jarring to his slender frame. His school bag helped bring him down, doubling the pain as he struck the ground. The books scattered from his arms, and Ryou winced as his sight was filled with fluttering white pages, broken textbook spines, and disturbed dirt in the air.

The man wrestled Ryou onto his back, pinning his wrists above his head, and then straddled the poor teenager.

"STOP! Get off --!" Ryou fought a lost battle, his whole upper-body immobile. He had never felt so helpless before, unable to even twist or struggle. Still, that did not stop his mouth.

-

Bakura stretched one arm and rotated, surveying the open wound, which finally looked like the flow of blood was staunching. He did not try and check if the slash on the side of his face had stopped bleeding, in fear that, by touching it, it would become infected. He would have gladly entered his small, shabby home to clean himself up, if he did not hear weak, but clear, commotion just down the street.

It sounded like…

Rape.

-

"Go Away!" Ryou shouted tearfully, "Can't you leave me alone?" He could feel hysterics approaching.

The man was starting to undo the front of Ryou's blue school jacket. Ryou whimpered lightly and screwed his eyes shut. He did not want to see this happening. Maybe the next time he opened his eyes, the bad man would be gone.

Simultaneously, Ryou heard the swoosh of fast movement combined with racing footsteps. Next came the man's painful grunt as something hit him. Hands released, Ryou opened his eyes in surprise, and watched an impassive booted foot connect with the man's face. Thus ensued the unpleasant crunch of cartilage broken. The lump forming on one side of the drunk proved to Ryou that the first hit must have been a kick to the head.

Recoiling, the man was knocked off Ryou with little effort on Ryou's savior's part, and the drunk staggered off blubbering about pain.

Ryou lifted his torso a little and braced himself up on his elbows, ready to get up. Suddenly another body quickly straddled him, pushing him back down by his shoulders. Ryou tensed up again. Today was not his day.

There was pure silence, aside from Ryou's quickened breathing as he gazed at the newcomer above him.

"Huh," came a slightly amused, but forced indifferent tone from the taller, well-built teenager, "So I ended up saving you, of all people."

Looking closer at the stranger, Ryou observed that they shared the same irregular pale-white hair, but the other's was spikier and more unruly. A few strands looked like they were dabbed in brown paint, and with horror, Ryou's eyes swept over the other's face, which bore a fresh knife wound right across the tanned cheek. His gaze moved a bit higher to the other's stony eyes of a reddish-brown shade.

Bakura narrowed his eyes at the paler boy beneath him. The other's scrutiny of him was annoying him to no end. He was surprised by the coincidence that he had actually met the teen whose house he had scaled just the night before yesterday. Bakura grudgingly admitted that the other boy could be mistaken for a pretty girl even close up.

"… Me? I…" Ryou was confused, seeing as the other's remark implied some sort of connection between the two of them, "…Do I… know you?"

'No, I would remember this face if I had ever… seen…' Ryou's own thought trailed off. 'I… no, that was my own reflection…"

"I hope not," Bakura replied, while he replayed the other's voice in his head. There was something familiar about that too.

At the same time, Bakura's own voice struck a familiar chord in Ryou's memory. Ryou felt he had finally met the epitome of the past couple of encounters. But what were the chances of it? None, Ryou would bet.

Ryou tried to sit up again, and this time, Bakura let him, bringing them face-to face. Yet, Bakura did not move from his original position on Ryou's hips. Ryou turned a soft pink once he realized how close they were and how neither seemed to mind.

"Thanks. For saving me," Ryou averted his eyes to the other's collarbone, knowing he had stared blatantly into the other's face for an unreasonably long time.

Normally Bakura would have made some snide comment, perhaps about the other's incompetence or weakness, but he murmured an absent, "Mmm," as he silently judged the shy teen before him.

'He must be genuinely interested in me since he's not screaming bloody murder yet,' Bakura thought wryly, watching the other trail curious eyes over his hassled appearance.

"Are you okay?"

Warm fingertips rested right beside a messy, but seemingly closed wound on Bakura's left arm. Bakura pulled away with a twitch, and his right hand flew over the area previously grazed by Ryou. An anxious expression spread across Ryou's face.

"I'm fine," Bakura finally said, deciding that the boy was completely harmless, and a mischievous glint settled in his eyes as he shifted even closer to Ryou, "You okay?" he reached out and brushed the tousled hair away from the other's face. He leaned forward, his right hand pressed against Ryou's cheek, "You should be more careful, you know," Bakura said softly, whispering right next to the other's ear.

Ryou trembled at the sensation caused as lips transiently brushed against the curve of his ear, feeling too warm for a winter afternoon, "O-okay…" he managed, before his senses started to become hyperaware that the older teen on him was starting to rock against him. It was barely noticeable, but it was all Ryou could concentrate on now.

Bakura gave a feral smirk to himself. Now this was fun. All was left to see how much this perfect little student (well, he looked like one!) could take.

"Wait--! What are you…?" Ryou started, his eyes darting to one side to try and catch the other's image within his peripheral vision.

"Doing?" Bakura finished with a low chuckle, "Maybe you. What do you think?"

Fun was turning into an understatement quickly.

"I think you should stop," Ryou answered tightly, trying to work his way out but only ended up increasing the friction that was building up between their two bodies.

"I think you like it," Bakura corrected, mimicking Ryou's soberness, though his actions spoke differently as his hand traveled southward, tracing over the white dress-shirt beneath the blue school jacket.

"You need therapy," was the angered reply from Ryou, who grabbed Bakura's wrist and held it immobile. "Honestly, you're downright bipolar."

Bakura felt a flicker of déjà vu at the unwanted advice. With a catlike spring, he was off the surprised student and on his feet.

"I never knew such a nerd could have such a mouth," Bakura said coolly, turning to leave, but he had connected the details and voice with the face, and by strange luck, he had just met the worried friend of Yami's counterpart… what's-his-name.

"Nerd?" Ryou gaped, scrambling to get to his feet in some semblance of order, "What would you know, you…"

There was no noun to describe the other that came to mind. Ryou tried to glare, but from the look of amusement on the other's face, it had little effect.

"Me, what?"

"… Pervert," was Ryou's decided word before he demanded, "Now how do you know me!"

"You're more bipolar than I'll ever be," Bakura raised an eyebrow at the other's sudden boldness.

"I don't care! Just answer my question!" Ryou's frustration was evident as he lost all restraint on politeness.

A cold, deadly look instantly replaced Bakura's casual, calm expression. Ryou stepped back as a painful tingle up his spin reminded him that this young man was dangerous. Bakura shoved the smaller teenager against the nearest wall, feeling his lips lift into a small smile as Ryou cried out in pain.

"Don't tell me what to do," Bakura said in a poisonous tone, pressing the other against the wall, "You rich people aren't very smart, huh?"

Ryou let out a shaky breath, his heart hammering against his chest. This was no game anymore.

"I… guess not."

The quiet reply infuriated Bakura, who was having a hard time seeing straight. The gap between them closed as Bakura loomed threateningly close, trying to intimidate Ryou enough into tears but only induced confusion.

"Are y—"

Bakura cut him off by catching Ryou's lips in a bruising kiss, quickly sliding his hand behind his head to keep it from hitting the brick wall from the force of the assault. The move allowed Bakura to lace his fingers through the other's silky strands, at the same time, making sure Ryou could not pull away. When Bakura pulled away for air, he pushed Ryou towards the mess of school materials dozens of feet away.

"Finally got you to shut up," Bakura muttered, his bangs blocking his eyes and expression as he turned and began to walk away, "Hope to never see you again."

With that said, the gang member disappeared around the corner of the wall. Ryou tried to slow his breathing, the pads of his fingers gripping the wall for support as his legs felt too weak to hold him up. Ryou whirled, a look of determination in his eyes, and ran to follow the other, but found the alley empty.

"But… I don't even know your name," Ryou whispered, leaning forlornly against the corner of which the other teen had been last seen.

-

"Fuck! What was I thinking?" Bakura muttered to himself, having jumped the cement partition and used it to boost himself up onto the roof of the neighboring development.

Just below him, he watched the snowy-haired student gather his belongings and walk down the street to, presumably, the Game Shop.

"Bakura!"

The hiss came out of nowhere and Bakura nearly fell off the roof in a nervous wreck. He ended up skidding to the edge where the voice was in closest immediacy.

"Malik?"

"Get your ass down here before you kill yourself!" Malik commanded, who had sprinted to right beneath the awning the moment he heard ungraceful movement above him.

When Bakura finally dropped down next to him, Malik made a face at the unsettling sight of Bakura's appearance.

"You look like absolute shit." Blunt as always. "How many jumped you?"

"I love you too," Bakura scowled, and glanced over Malik, who just looked a little weary but was blood-free, "Four. You look like you just had a fun romp with one," Bakura smirked, not knowing just how close he was to the true basic setup of Malik's secret relationship.

Lavender eyes narrowed, "Three, you asshole." He glanced at Bakura's arm and face again, "We need to get you cleaned up."

"Orgy, was it?"

"Be serious," Malik reproached, pulling himself over the wall, "You're extra-bitchy today, if that's even possible."

"I had a bad day."

"I'd say."

They rounded the corner and headed for home. Malik was examining the cut on Bakura's bicep, having trouble discerning where the wound actually lay through the amount of blood when he suddenly pulled back.

"You're still bleeding!"

"Am I?" Bakura glanced at his arm surprised.

Malik began to sprint for the front door, "SHIT, you dumbass! I need to get that wrapp—What'dafuck?"

Bakura watched his vanilla-blonde friend jerk forward onto the sidewalk. However, the trip must have been minor, seeing as Malik was now vividly yelling in outrage at a heavy textbook that had done him wrong.

It looked like…

CHEMISTRY: Fourth Edition.

Bakura picked up the chemistry book and instantly recognized the size and form of that seen in Ryou's bedroom that one night. Ryou's. 'Just what I need,' Bakura thought sarcastically.

"The book dies!" Malik huffed, slamming open the front door in search for a lighter. When it came to school things, the one and only thing able to successfully eradicate them was fire.

"Don't," warned Bakura, "The owner would want this back," he turned the hefty book in his hands.

"Careless idiot," Malik spat vindictively, wandering into their room, "It's too late."

Bakura heard objects being thrown around in the room. He knew they had a lighter in there somewhere. As long as the prospect of finding a lighter stalled Malik from remembering they had a stove, Bakura let the miniature scavenger hunt continue.

Opening the cover of the book, seven clear words stood out to him on the otherwise clean title page.

'I want to know who you are.'

"Careless… huh."

A/N: 5800… I made it extra-long because school starts this Tuesday and hence I can just predict my disappearance. I'm a senior this fall, so first semester is full of college applications and hard work for good grades. Then second semester… senioritis! XD

What do you think of the rewrite? I've worked very hard to fix the shallowness of the character's interactions with each other (unless needed, of course XP ). Rewriting is a pain in the ass, especially if your writing skills have completely atrophied. I suggest no one do it. X.x;

Please review. I hate to admit it but I depend heavily on your motivation. TT.TT I am a slave the urging need to know what you think about SPNMIC. XP