A/N: Tendershipping. Reviews and constructive criticism appreciated.
As One Loves Certain Things
"Why did you stay?" Bakura asks, feeling Ryou curl up beside on the bed. "Why didn't you run? Why didn't you ask the others for help?"
Ryou, already used to the questions, answers as he always do. "I wanted to stay. I didn't want to run. You needed my help, I didn't want anyone else's."
"I could have broken you."
"But you didn't."
"I could have killed you."
"But you wouldn't."
Bakura blinks, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. He remembers the wickedness that lived in his heart; how the pain of his past followed him even into his new body. Some nights, if he lays very still and closes his eyes, he can hear the cries and screams of his lighter half, as if the memories are embedded in the very walls of their home. At night, the memories come alive and make it hard to sleep. He wakes up every hour or so, checks Ryou's pulse, and only when he hears the slow, steady thump of a pure heart does he fall back into an uneasy slumber.
He wanted power for destroy, the world at his mercy and Hell at his right hand.
He doesn't know how his hikari saved him from the darkness, but he's glad of it.
(Can you forget who you were in favor of who you are?)
No.
Sensing Bakura's tension, Ryou presses a light kiss to a well-muscled shoulder. "You need some rest. We have school tomorrow, and Joey's coming over to study."
His eyes slide shut and he smiles. "I love you." As one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
Ryou hums in sleepy delight, curling closer to a toned back. "I know. And that's why I forgave you long ago."
In the quiet still of night, Bakura waits for the day that he's forgiven himself.
A/N: That line is from a beautiful poem by Pablo Neruda. It'll probably be referenced a lot in different drabbles because it's simply that beautiful.