(A/N:) Welcome to the first chapter of my attempt at a lengthy fic. Heheh. Hopefully I've caught your interest with the prologue and/or summary. I admit that this may start off a little slow, but I promise it'll get a lot more interesting in later chapters. ;) For now, enjoy this chapter until I get the next one done.

Oh, just a side note about the genres: The genre for this could probably go a lot of different ways, but judging from where I'm taking this, it's mostly drama. So I put Drama and General.

Warnings this chapter: Mild sexual themes, really mild alcohol use. It's actually nothing too bad - I'm just mentioning them in case.

I pull up to the apartment complex, and take a glance at the piece of paper in my hand. "Fifth floor, apartment number 512…," I mumble to myself. I park nearby the building, and turn off the engine. I sigh, and stare at the car I had parallel parked behind. Well, this was it. I was here.

That morning, around six, I had packed up the last of my things, and stuffed them in the back of the car. I didn't have a lot to bring with me, so packing was fairly easy. I said my final goodbyes to my father, and I drove for about six hours to arrive at Bakura's apartment complex.

I pick up the box that was resting in the passenger seat, which is not too heavy, thankfully. I make my way towards the building and, to my disbelief, see no elevator in sight. "Great," I sigh.

After what seems like an eternity, I reach the top of the fourth flight of stairs, and walk down the hallway while scanning the doors for room five-hundred twelve.

"Ah, here," I say to myself, when I finally reach my destination. There's a little nameplate next to the door that says 'Kuroi,' indicating that I've reached the correct room. I knock on the door, and fidget a bit as I wait for it to be answered. I almost jump when the door suddenly opens with no warning, and I am met with crimson-tinged eyes glaring down at me.

Bakura's hair is unruly, more than usual (or at least more than the last time I saw him). He's wearing nothing but some loose jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he has a soda can in one hand. I remember him being a drinker, but I guess he's not so much of one that he'd drink at such an early hour. His hand rests on the doorknob as he stares at me.

"H-hey Bakura," I stutter. His glare is making me uneasy. I stare up at him for a while, and he says nothing. This is unbelievably awkward.

A few seconds pass, and Bakura finally snickers. I flinch, but a small smile creeps on my face. Some people never change.

"Get in here," he says, a bit of playful harshness masking his voice. I obey, and step into the apartment. Bakura goes into his kitchen to throw away his can, and sticks his head into the refrigerator to find something to eat or drink, supposedly.

"Er…Where can I put this?" I ask, holding up the box I'm holding to indicate what I'm talking about. "I had to go up four flights of stairs, and my arms are about to fall off."

Bakura's head comes out of the fridge, and he stares at me as if I'm crazy.

"You know there's an elevator, right?"

I stare back at him. "…No there isn't."

"Yes, there is." He shuts the fridge, and now there's a beer can in his hand. So, noon is apparently not too early…?

"I didn't see one," I raise an eyebrow.

"Which side of the building were you on?"

"I don't know," I shrug.

"Was there a tree in front of the side you were on?"

"…No."

He shrugs and opens the can, taking a sip from it. He walks past me and flops onto the couch, puts his feet up on the coffee table, and starts flipping channels.

I stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something relating to me staying here, but he continues to stare at the TV, as if I'm not there.

"…Bakura?"

No response.

"…Bakura."

"…"

"…'KURA!"

"Hah?" he looks up from the television. "What?" he narrows his eyes slightly, annoyed that I'm keeping him from watching whatever was showing on the television.

I blush a bit, becoming uneasy again. "Do you mind showing me to my room…?"

He stares at me for a while. "…Oh. Yeah, sure." He gets up, and leads me to a bedroom down a short hallway. He opens the door, and says impassively, "Voila."

The room is plain and average size, with a bed and a desk off to the side. There's one window with white blinds, and a simple wardrobe that's partly open. There's also a ceiling fan, which Bakura flips on. The lights come on with it. I spot a few cobwebs here and there, indicating that the room has not been used for quite some time. I also note the fact that Bakura did not take the time to prepare the room for me, but it's not like I expected him to do so, anyway.

He steps into the room before me, and I follow him, placing the box on the bed. He pulls up the blinds, and starts his lecture.

"You offered paying rent on the phone, so it's a hundred dollars a month. Originally I was going to make it two-hundred, but since you're my cousin, I decided to be nice." He turns around from the window to face me. His arms are now crossed, making him look almost authoritative. "I only have a few rules. No renovations, and if you're going to have someone over, you need to tell me first. No taking my beer—"

"I don't drink," I bluntly say.

Bakura pauses, and then goes on as if I never interrupted. "No wasting food, and if you eat the last of whatever, you're responsible to buy more of whatever it is. No hogging the bathroom, which is next to my room. Lastly, my room's across yours, so if I'm sleeping, don't bother me. Unless if it's some sort of near-death situation or something." He pauses, and looks like he's trying to remember something he forgot. "Oh," he finally says. "And if there's a sock on the doorknob of my room, don't come in."

"Why?" I blurt out, without thinking.

He stares at me for a few moments, then chuckles. He starts to walk out and he ruffles my hair as he leaves. "You're so naïve." The door shuts, and I'm left standing alone in my room, confused and unaware. After about five minutes, I finally understand what he's talking about.

I shudder in disgust.

"Thanks for helping me get the rest of my boxes up here," I say to Bakura sarcastically, as I'm carrying the last of my boxes into the apartment. He's still lounging on the couch; still staring at the TV with his empty beer can in his hand.

"You're welcome," he says back with equal sarcasm, eyes still glued to the screen. I take a glance at the screen to see what he's watching, and it's some random movie I can't identify. I roll my eyes a bit and head to my room to put away the box. I come back into the living room.

I sit myself on the couch next to Bakura, at a respectable distance. "So…are you hungry?"

Bakura's eyes don't leave the screen. "No. Why, are you?"

"I haven't had lunch yet," I respond.

Bakura continues to stare at the television, and I can't tell if he's thinking or just staring.

"…Let's go out." He stands up and heads to the kitchen to throw away his beer can. Then he head to his room.

"Uh…where?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Around town, I don't know." He comes out of his room, now wearing a plain black t-shirt. I look at him a bit worriedly, and then he says, "Plenty of places to eat, no worries kiddo."

I pout at the nickname. "I'm not five, and you're only two years older than me. And that's not the only reason why I'm worried," I pause. "Are you sure it's okay for you to be driving?"

He chuckles in response. "I drank one can, chill out." He grabs the keys off the counter, and starts to head out the door. "Just turn off the TV and don't forget your wallet."

We're pulling out of Bakura's designated parking space, and I'm seated next to him in the passenger seat of his truck.

"Oh, that reminds me," I say out of nowhere. "Does it matter where I park?"

"Not really," Bakura says, focused on his driving. "As long as it's not in someone else's designated spot. They give you hell if you do." He stops at a stop sign. "Where did you park?"

"Over there, behind the Toyota," I point out.

Bakura makes another one of those stares at the car I point out.

"…You drive a Jeep?"

"Yes."

"…Kssht," he snickers.

"What?" I say, a little offended.

"Nothing, nothing," he says, recovering from his fit. "I just never expected you to drive a Jeep."

"It's used, and I got a good deal on it. Or at least Dad did," I shrug. "Seventeenth birthday present."

"Hmm," he muses. "Well, it's in pretty good shape, I guess," he says nodding at the car, and drives into the street. "You could've gotten a car that fits your style more, maybe—"

"Oh, be quiet."

We've stopped at the local McDonald's, and it's around two-thirty now. Bakura decided to give me a bit of a tour around the city beforehand, and when he finally got fed up with my complaints of hunger consisting of "I'm starving" and "my stomach won't stop growling", he pulled up to the nearest fast food place without even asking what I wanted. Sometimes I wonder how I'm related to him, other times I don't really care and just brush it off.

I'm nibbling on some French fries, after have finishing my salad. Bakura's munching on a hamburger.

"Is that all you're eating?" he says after swallowing. "I thought you said you were starving."

I shrug. "I'm not a big eater, I guess."

Bakura, taking another bite, rolls his eyes and says with his mouth full, "It's no wonder you're so skinny."

I pout a little. "I've been told that several times, thank you."

He nods and swallows. "So, when do you start school?"

"Two weeks. What about you?" I know Bakura attends the community college in town, and isn't planning to get anything more than his Associate's degree. Sometimes I wonder how he's going to make a living.

"Two weeks. What should we do?" he asks, while finishing the last bit of his burger and taking a sip of his soda.

"What do you mean?"

"We have two weeks 'til school starts, so what should we do?" He stares, waiting for an answer.

"I…I don't know," I shrug. "I'm…I'm not good at making plans."

"Jeez, how did you spend your whole high school life—in your room?" he leans back in his chair, and I flinch a bit at the comment. He realizes what effect it made on me, and he moves his gaze and awkwardly stares at his soda. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's okay," I mumble.

There's an awkward silence between us, with the only sounds of kids screaming in the indoor playground in the other room, and the chatter of other customers. Bakura bites at his straw, since there is apparently no liquid left in the cup. I continue to nibble silently at my remaining French fries.

I finally break the silence. "Sometimes I wish I did a little more in high school," I say. "I spent all my time studying, just so I can get accepted into college here. I got good grades, did my volunteer work…But I never really talked to the other kids volunteering at the same locations. I just…didn't want to be rejected—by the people around me and the college itself. It…wasn't an answer. I felt horrible cancelling plans with my friends and everything all those times when I had to study, but…I guess I can't change it."

Bakura nods. "I partied too much," he says blatantly. I look up at him to listen. "I wasn't good enough to get into the university. I'm just lucky I even graduated." He finally looks at me, and one corner of his mouth turns upwards. "I have to say, kiddo, I'm glad you didn't do what I did." He reaches over to ruffle my hair, and I protest the action, but laugh all the same.

"You could have done the whole transfer program thing, you know," I suggest.

"Eh," Bakura says, "Truth is, I was lazy my first two years of community college. I tried getting my crap together, but it just wasn't working for me." He takes the lid off his cup to stare at the ice in the cup. "I assumed that it'd be a waste of time and money, both for me and the instructors, if I even tried transferring." He shrugs. "I don't have any regrets. I'm perfectly fine. I'm in my third year, now…" He looks up at me. "…Perfectly fine."

I nod at him, showing my understanding.

There's more silence between us, and Bakura suddenly gets up and takes his tray with him. I follow.

"Let's get back to the apartment," he suggests.

I nod, then remember a question I had earlier but never asked. "Bakura?"

"Hmm?" he opens the door, and I follow him to his truck.

"Do you…have a girlfriend?" I blush a bit, embarrassed to be asking the question. Though I blame Bakura for mentioning the sock-on-his-door-handle-rule earlier…

Bakura raises an eyebrow, as if he were mentally questioning my question. After a while, he smirks at me and chuckles, seeming to recall the rule and understand why I was asking the question. After a pause, he says, "No, I don't have a girlfriend, Ryo." He steps into the driver's seat of the truck, and I step into the passenger's.

"But then why…?" I trail off. I blink, realization washing over me. I blush immensely, then shudder with disgust.

"'Why', what?" Bakura sneers.

"Nothing, nothing!" I turn away from him.

He's satisfied with my embarrassment. He decides to extend the teasing. "I enjoy my alone time, and I also have—"

"Don't speak of it!" The heat in my cheeks intensifies. I simply keep my eyes on the view out my window the rest of the way back.

(A/N:) Hopefully you haven't fallen asleep by now. Just a note: yes, Bakura's full name in this fic is 'Bakura Kuroi'. Ryo is still Ryo Bakura. And yes Ryo drives a Jeep. I don't know why I chose a Jeep, to be honest. I guess it seemed logical at the time. Whatever time that was. Maybe it was after midnight. Probably. Most likely. Very likely.

ANYWAY, I feel lame asking for reviews now, but I really do appreciate every single review!