Notes: To Nijiyume: Longer chapters? Moi? Not really... These are pretty long for me. Glad you guys are enjoying it, though. I'm not even rechecking this one before I post it, I'm too damned tired.
Use the Man
Chapter 6
The what now turned out to be sleeping, something that Bakura was at the same time grateful and fearful of. The exhaustion of such an emotionally trying day bore down on him, but he knew he wouldn't get more than an hour's sleep. He never did, without passing out in a drug-induced haze of peaceful oblivion. This would be the first time he'd attempted to spend a night chemical-free in months, and it was anything but easy. During the night his body began to realize that what it craved so badly was not going to be forthcoming, and began to punish him. It began with cold sweat and the familiar shaking in his hands, which spread until the very core of his being was trembling. Seto left him alone, for which he was alternately thankful and annoyed. He didn't particularly want to be seen feeling like he did, but he knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. There was going to be much worse to come, and he considered himself worthy of every moment. He deserved it. For now, though, he contented himself with pacing around the large bedroom, trying to think up ways he could make Seto Kaiba's life as much a living hell as his was. To be perfectly honest, the sheer gall of the man impressed him. He still wasn't entirely sure he'd gotten a straight answer as to why drugs were such a sore spot for the CEO, but he was sure he would be informed eventually.
Stalking over to perch for a moment on the large window seat, Bakura drew one leg up to his chest and hunched over, giving the large room another scan. The lack of housing space in Japan didn't seem to have quite gotten through to whoever had built the place, and even this single room could have fit Bakura's entire apartment inside. Well, the better part of it, anyway. It was boring, though. Now that he had time to actually think about what he'd expected the inside of the Kaiba mansion to be like, he was disappointed. Perhaps Seto's room was more ridiculously over-indulgent. The one he was in was just a room – it reminded Bakura of a hotel. Generic double bed, wardrobe, dresser, window seat, balcony, bedside tables, and a rug across the floor that Bakura took an instant dislike to. It was green, that annoyed him for starters. Getting up, he paced over to it and stared down at the thick fabric, glaring because thinking up reasons why he hated it was taking his mind off how much he was shaking. Green. Why green? There was nothing else green in the room. There was nothing green about Seto – he was all blue and white and black and brown, and that weird pinkish color on the inside lining of his white trench coat, that Bakura had never been able to help staring at. When Seto wore that thing he always felt like a bull with a red flag being waved in front of it. He didn't want to charge at the coat and attack it, as such, he was just strangely fascinated that nobody else seemed to notice all the pink.
Mokuba didn't really have any green to him, either. He was pretty much raven black hair and big gray eyes. He didn't look very much like Seto, it made Bakura wonder if they only shared one parent. Either that or they were genetic freaks, not that he particularly cared. He just really hated that rug to the point that it was starting to gnaw away at that place inside that he hoped was his soul. This required action. Small, but immediate action, and a first step in irritating his captor. He'd thought out the fact that this was for his own good and come to the conclusion that – much as he hated it – Seto was doing him a favor. That alone made him feel incredibly vindictive.
Picking up the rug by one corner, because he didn't really want to touch it more than was necessary, Bakura dragged the green annoyance over to the glass doors to the balcony. They were locked, but that hindered him for less than a minute – and only that long because picking a lock with shaking hands was hard work. When the little noise he'd been waiting for signalled that the doors were no longer locked he swung them open dramatically and strode out onto the balcony, enjoying the chill night air that hit him. It cooled the stifling warmth that had wrapped itself around his body without him noticing, and after casually tossing the rug over the edge of the balcony he decided to leave the doors open.
Spending a few more minutes looking blankly out over the dark landscape of the edge of Domino City, Bakura reminded himself that he should at least attempt to get some sleep. It wasn't going to work, but at least he'd look like he was making an effort. He turned away from the comforting view of blackness and vaguely sinister looking trees, and headed back inside. The bed looked welcoming and he was tired, so he fell onto it on his back and forced his eyes closed. A few minutes later they opened again and he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. Perfectly plastered, there weren't even any cracks in the paintwork for him to memorise. It was going to be a long night.
XxXxX
Seto bought in a tray of breakfast at around ten in the morning, and Bakura had gotten a grand total of half an hour's sleep. The one time he'd managed to drift off, he'd woken again thirty minutes later feeling nauseous and spent the rest of the morning doing his best to lie very still. By the time Seto turned up he was marvelling that stopping something bad could make him feel so awful. It was like the worst hangover he'd ever had, only far worse and accompanied by a horrid, shaky feverish feeling. Seto closed the bedroom door behind him and padded over to the chair beside the bed, placing the tray in the same place he'd put the last one, the day before. This one had cereal and orange juice, but even the thought of food made Bakura want to throw up. He clamped his eyes shut and tried to radiate hatred instead, giving himself something else to focus on.
"How are you feeling?" Seto asked, and Bakura considered that to be a very stupid question. He was well aware that he probably looked like death warmed up.
"Like I am being punished for a life of sin." Bakura muttered. "Several lives." He added, uncaring of how self pitying he sounded.
"It'll get worse before it gets better. You should eat something." The brunette advised, watching Bakura open his weary eyes and sit up with considerable effort, all the while mumbling obscenities in a variety of languages. The CEO took that to mean that his mood had improved, since he was no longer using the tone of voice from the night before. The ice cold, murderous eyes had been replaced by irritated garnets, and Seto felt he'd learned something about his unwilling house guest. When Bakura bitched and moaned and threatened to kill everything, that was normal. It was when he got dark and silent that it was worth being genuinely worried.
"Your bedside manner is not what I'd hoped." The thief griped, risking a look at the food Seto had bought before quickly looking away again, the nausea making itself known once again. "I am not eating it. I cannot even look at it." He claimed. "I threw your rug out of the window."
Seto picked up the orange juice and handed it to Bakura, who took it in a hand that was now trembling so badly he had to use two hands just to stop himself spilling it. The thief stared down at the juice and figured that if he could look at it without feeling ill he could drink it and deal with the consequences later. It wasn't solid food, and solid food was the problem. It still made him feel slightly unsettled, but he risked taking a sip anyway while Seto glanced at the bare patch on the blue carpet where the rug had once lived.
"What was it about the rug you disliked?" Seto asked, wondering if this was a withdrawals thing or a regular Bakura thing. The symptoms weren't really bad enough yet for it to be a withdrawals thing.
"It was green." Bakura replied, not really thinking about it much and steadfastly refusing to look at his captor. Instead he kept his eyes trained on the glass of orange juice in his hands, wondering why it had to look so bright.
"You don't like green?" Seto questioned, wondering at the bizarre conversation he was having so early in the morning.
"My liking or disliking of green had nothing to do with it. It didn't go with you, your house or your brother." Bakura explained, not particularly caring if Seto understood the way his mind worked or not. "I was doing you a favour."
"By throwing the rug out of the window?" Seto raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the chair he was perched in. He didn't usually talk casually to people, but he felt like he owed Bakura at least a conversation. It wasn't actually that bad, now that he was trying it.
"Yes. Now tell me what is going to happen to me." The thief instructed, wanting to know exactly what it was he was going to be up against. Today was bad, but he wasn't fool enough to think this was the worst it would get.
"It isn't the same for everyone." Seto warned, watching Bakura sip at his orange juice and stare out of the open balcony doors across from the bed.
"Then give me a vague idea of what I am to expect." The grave robber said, settling for anything that would give him some clue as to what he was in for.
"The shaking will increase. The other symptoms vary with each person, but it's going to get worse over the next few days. It's going to be hard." Seto said honestly, meeting Bakura's gaze as it finally turned to him.
"Nothing short of what I deserve, I expect. How is it that you know so much about this?" The thief asked, not looking away. He wanted to know what it was that caused Seto to feel so strongly about drugs. The revelation that it wasn't any sort of affection for him that was making Seto help him was something he'd been trying not to dwell on too much. It relieved him to know that Seto didn't care, but at the same time something in the very back of his mind said that wouldn't it be nice to have someone give a damn? Just this once?
Seto was tempted to dismiss the conversation with a sharp 'that's none of your business', but he knew he owed Bakura an explanation. The tomb robber seemed as though he was going to genuinely make an effort to get himself clean, and his attitude was one Seto was glad of. He actually wanted to stop.
"Do you really want to know?" Seto asked, giving Bakura fair warning that it was something personal. He was willing to share, but it wasn't something he ever bought up or had ever told anyone before.
Bakura raised the glass he was still holding to his lips, interested in the sordid past of the Kaiba family. It seemed Seto had been keeping a secret.
"Do tell." The grave robber encouraged, anything to take his mind off the strange feeling of his blood itching. It wasn't severe at the moment, he just hoped it would make way for some less disconcerting symptoms.
"Eat something and you'll have the full story." Seto bribed, passing Bakura the bowl of cereal. The thief gave it a distasteful look, but sitting up in bed had eased the nausea somewhat and he was curious enough to agree to the terms.
"All right, but this had better be an interesting insight into your past." Bakura muttered, placing his juice back on the tray and trying a mouthful of the cereal. It was mushy from laying too long in the milk, but at least he seemed to be able to keep it down. Pleased with himself, he looked to Seto for his reward.
"You know that Mokuba and I were bought up in an orphanage until Gozaburo Kaiba adopted us?" Seto asked, not particularly relishing reliving his childhood. At least Bakura was actually listening intently to what he was saying. False sympathy annoyed him, and he expected Bakura hadn't had a model childhood either so they were on somewhat common ground.
"Yes." Bakura affirmed, eating a little more of the cereal and deciding it wasn't that bad.
"We ended up there because our parents were killed in a car crash. That's common knowledge. What Mokuba doesn't remember is that my mother was driving that evening, and she drove the car off a bridge because she was too high to know what she was doing. I expect my father tried to stop her, clearly it didn't work." Seto told the white haired man in the bed, staring fixedly at a spot on the sheets. Bakura leant back against the headboard in the same position as the night before, digesting the information he'd just been given and resting the cereal bowl in his lap.
"Did she try to stop?" He asked finally, beginning to see where Seto had gotten his knowledge from.
"Twice. My father could never say no to her, though. When it got too bad and she begged him, he gave in." Seto admitted. He had been old enough to remember his mother crying and shaking and screaming, while his father sent him upstairs to look after baby Mokuba and tried to reason with his wife. He'd never really had much luck with parents, he mused. He was just glad that Mokuba didn't remember them.
Bakura was silent for a long moment, closing his eyes and thinking. When he finally looked back at Seto he decided that Mokuba was better off with his brother than he ever had been with any of the others, from what he'd been told. Seto Kaiba was still a complete bastard when he wanted to be, but at least he was interesting.
"I can be very persuasive when I want to be." Bakura claimed, lifting the cereal bowl unsteadily and placing it back on the tray.
"I won't give in, they don't call me ruthless for nothing." Seto assured the thief, who accepted the promise with a crooked little smirk.
"Good." He sat forward a little, looking thoughtful. "I think I liked my mother."
"You think?" Seto frowned, slightly confused. Bakura closed his eyes again, tilting his head back.
"I do not remember much. Nothing of my father, or any siblings I may have had. Just a woman who I assume was my mother. I get a good feeling from her, I wonder what she looked like?" He murmured, more to himself than Seto. He'd often wondered about his family, but the only conclusive thing he could remember was that there had been a woman who had been good to him. She might not even have been his mother, she could have been an older sister or not even a relative at all. It was nice to know that someone had once looked out for him, though.
Seto watched Bakura trying to remember anything he could about his family, thinking to himself that it was odd to think of Bakura ever having a mother. Or ever being a child, for that matter. The brunette couldn't help but wonder if Bakura had been as alternately surly and cocky when he was younger, or whether he'd been an average child and just become a victim of his circumstances. Would he have grown up to be a thief if his family hadn't been slaughtered?
The weight of crimson eyes on him snapped Seto out of his musings and he looked up again to see Bakura staring at him, having moved to the edge of the bed. The thief's bare feet touched the floor and he attempted to stand up shakily, swaying on his feet.
"What are you doing?" The CEO demanded, standing as well and looming over the shorter man, who glared slightly up at him.
"Much as I appreciate that eating something today was a good idea in theory, kindly point me in the direction of the nearest bathroom." Bakura swayed again, refusing to let Seto help him over to the door on the other side of the room which led into the small, en suite bathroom. Staggering inside, Bakura caught himself on the door frame and turned to Seto, who was giving what passed for a concerned frown in his direction. He wanted to say something, but before he could get the words out he felt bile rising in his throat and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, retching and making hand signals behind his back for Seto to go away. This was something he definitely did not need an audience for.
Giving the shuddering thief a last glance, Seto sighed and picked up the tray from the bedside table, carrying it out into the hallways before coming back in to take his place once more in the chair beside the bed. It worried him that Bakura couldn't keep anything down, he made a mental note to look for something that the thief might be able to eat without being sick. He was going to need his strength over the next couple of days, after all. This was only the beginning.
Over in the bathroom, Bakura retched until he had nothing left, his throat burning. When the shuddering finally stopped he clung to the sink and clawed his way up weakly, washing his mouth out and staring at the haggard reflection of himself in the mirror in front of him.
He was starting to realise just how much he was going to hate the next few days.
TBC