Trigger Warning: Panic Attack
Ryou stared at his translucent hand. Light from the ceiling fixture played across his scarred appendage. He titled his hand, and the shadow moved accordingly. He scrunched his nose. That didn't make any sense. Why would light affect him if he was intangible? He waved his hand, but it looked the same as if he was currently occupying his body, only a little more see-through.
Movement brought his attention to the person sitting on the floor. It was the first time he had actually seen Bakura in his body since, well, since he could remember. That whole Monster World debacle was a bit fuzzy, probably due to the fact that he had technically died.
His no longer ghostly counterpart pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead and groaned, muttering a curse or two. He opened his red, unfocused eyes, which quickly snapped to Ryou's.
"Get out of my face," he growled.
"Oh, ah… sorry," he said. He took a few steps back, giving the other space. The pain from his headache had receded significantly, only existing in the corner of his mind, and though he was still tired, it was much easier to ignore. Bakura, on the other hand, looked much worse for wear. He braced an arm against the cabinet and pushed himself to his feet, using his free hand to tear out the braid that Ryou had done earlier. He shook his hair like a wet mutt and slipped the blue hair tie onto his wrist.
Ryou felt… odd. Disjointed and a bit unfocused. Although he preferred whatever this was to being locked up in his soul room, he would still rather be in his own body, not existing as some sort of half-ghost. Still-living spirit? Whatever.
The emotions that had been so overwhelming moments before were now muted. Ryou knew he was angry at Bakura and had proper reasons to feel that way but couldn't properly sense his emotions. When he tried, they just seemed to slip through his grasp.
Ryou wrapped his arms around himself and took a half-step back. What was he doing? He had let Bakura retake control with barely any fuss! That's what had put him in this situation in the first place. What if he never got his body back? How long did it take to actually become a spirit? His breath stuttered and quickened. Did he even need to breathe? He dug his fingernails into his arm; the sensation barely reached him.
A firm hand squeezed his shoulder, and he flinched back.
"Ryou, focus," a familiar voice said because it was his voice, but not his voice. Deeper, self-assured, and with a sharp edge. It was the same and different, familiar and unfamiliar, all wrapped in one. The hand on Ryou's shoulder tightened to the point where it was almost painful. He wondered if that would bruise later. Fingers grabbed his chin and forced him to meet the spirit's eyes. Twin points of light in a face that didn't belong to him.
Ryou shoved both hands into Bakura's chest. The spirit stumbled back. Ryou held a hand to his chest. He twisted his fingers in the leather strap of the Ring and pulled. He focused on the pressure, blocking everything else out. When he was able to, he started counting breaths. Whether he needed to breathe or not, it helped.
Bakura steadied himself against the refrigerator, his arm trembling almost imperceptibly. The spirit studied him, and Ryou had no idea what he was thinking.
"Relax, Ryou." Bakura pushed himself up. He grabbed a soup can from the counter and smoothed out the label so he could read the instructions. Ryou adjusted the Ring so it laid flat once more. The stylized eye in the centre of the Ring stared as Ryou traced it with his finger; he half expected it to blink.
After a minute, Bakura looked over at him. "You should try and pick up that thing you dropped earlier."
Ryou's gaze landed on the sad, little piece of bread resting in the middle of the floor. He had forgotten about that, but now that he noticed the thing, it looked rather out of place. But how was he meant to touch it?
Ryou crouched next to the bread piece. He poked at it, his finger passing through it like one would expect from a pseudo-ghost. He glanced over at Bakura, who had taken the can's tab between his teeth and peeled off the lid.
"You're overthinking it," Bakura commented without looking as he sloshed the concoction into a bowl on the counter. "Expect it to be solid, and it will be."
Like that was supposed to help. Ryou looked down at the innocuous piece of bread. He let out a breath, paused, and grabbed the bread before his brain could catch up to what he was doing. He stood and stared down at the piece of bread in his hands. It innocently stared back at him. None of this made sense. Ryou took his prize over to the waste bin and let it drop. He watched as it disappeared among the rest of the rubbish.
"Didn't have to throw it away." Bakura pushed a few buttons, and the soup-filled bowl began to spin in the microwave.
Ryou wrinkled his nose. "I'm not eating something that's been on the floor," he said.
Bakura watched the display on the microwave count down for a few seconds and then smiled. "You have a little less than two minutes to ask any questions you have."
Ryou's breath caught in his throat. What?
"W-wait," Ryou hesitated, "About the last few days or…." He let the question trail off.
Bakura's head leaned to the left. Two fingers tapped the wrist where Ryou's watch would typically rest. "Tick, tock."
Ryou brushed his fingers through the tines of the Ring. Was Bakura being serious, or was this some kind of game? He didn't have enough energy to puzzle it out. He decided to ask the most important question first. What else could he lose?
"What did you do?"
Bakura pulled back the blue hair tie and snapped it against his wrist. "Just because—"
"I'm not stupid, Bakura!" Ryou's hands clenched, then fell to his sides. It seemed he had found his anger again. "And I know you. You don't do things for no reason, so what did you do?"
Bakura pushed himself up from where he had settled against the counter. He thought for a moment, which was inconsiderate, considering he was the one who set a time limit. "Tell me what you remember from Thursday afternoon."
Ryou hesitated. A feeling of unease began to creep through his gut. "It was a normal school day," he stated. "Nothing happened."
Bakura snorted. "Didn't it? One would think you'd remember something that happened just a few days ago." He took a step forward. "Once again, you manage to surprise me, Yadonushi-sama." Bakura grabbed Ryou's wrist before he could react. The hand shifted, and fingers intertwined with his. "You've turned denial into an art." And the world went white.
Ryou observed a blank wall. On both sides, simple wooden doors lined the wall, expanding into the infinite distance. Ryou lifted his free hand and placed it on the wall in front of him, but instead of smooth drywall, he felt the grainy texture of another door.
"Well?" Bakura asked as his finger traced the starburst scar on the back of Ryou's hand. "Are you just going to stand there?"
Ryou pressed his palm into the door. Garbled sounds ghosted through the barrier, settling in Ryou's ears. One voice rose above the rest, but its meaning was unintelligible. Ryou steadily ignored the growing pit in his stomach. "What is this?"
"A liminal space that houses your memories. Most of them are pretty boring. Also, your organization system's a mess." Bakura nodded at the not-door. "To be more specific, it's motive. Yours and mine." Bakura's eyes flicked over to his. "I didn't take over, at least not this time. In fact, you basically pushed me into the driver's seat."
"Why would I do that?" Ryou murmured. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the sounds as the wall in front of him rippled, revealing the door.
White fluorescent light flooded his vision. A classroom's worth of eyes followed his every move. A figure loomed over him, snapping a ruler into their palm. Humiliation filled him as he tried to speak past the rock lodged in his throat.
"It's a simple question, Bakura-kun."
Ryou stumbled back, ripping his hand from the spirit's grasp. Tremors wracked his frame as warring emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He pressed a hand to his chest, pulling out three wriggling figures and dropping them onto whatever passed for a floor in this place. Coloured scales flashed as beady eyes blinked up at him. Yellow, green, black. Shame, fear, and… the other one.
Bakura knelt down; the little black snake slithered into his palm. He scratched its head and trailed a finger down its spine. "Bitey little fellow, isn't he."
Ryou rubbed a hand down his arm, trying to concentrate on the sensation. He stuffed his emotions down as far as they would go, and both the snakes and the door in front of him vanished. He took another step back, and the scenery around him shifted.
He stood in a recreation of his childhood bedroom. In the corner rested a wooden bedframe with a blanket that resembled a blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds. Across the room sat a smaller version of the same bed in pink, though it was dwarfed by piles of letters, some in English, others in varied ratios of hiragana and kanji. The rest of the room was blank, though its real-life counterpart had housed bookshelves, toyboxes, and models made with gradually increasing skill.
He sat on his old bed, dangling his legs off the side. He slowly ran a hand over the worn material. Bakura dropped down beside him, crisscrossing his legs.
"The soup's probably done," Ryou stated, and his voice echoed.
"Fuck the soup." Bakura leaned back, examining the plastic stars on the ceiling.
Ryou huffed. "Then what was that whole dramatic countdown for!"
The spirit laughed. "To make you get to the point and not prattle on for ten minutes." Bakura shifted forward. "It worked, didn't it?"
"About gave me a bleeding heart attack is what it did," Ryou muttered.
Bakura hummed. He shifted again and wrapped an arm around Ryou's shoulders, fingers ghosting over the scar on his upper left arm. Ryou noted that touch in here didn't give him the same ants-crawling feeling that it did in the real world. Or maybe since he had shut his emotions away, he just didn't care. Ryou leaned his head on Bakura's shoulder and closed his eyes. He could do without the visual stimulus.
"Do you want to know what happened?" Bakura asked, voice quiet as if he didn't want to disturb this rare moment of peace between them.
"Not really," Ryou admitted. Bakura remained silent for a moment before continuing anyway.
"You had a meltdown in class. Went non-verbal."
Ryou sighed. After that glimpse of memory, he had supposed it was something like that. It would be a nightmare to face his classmates again after this. "And what did you do?"
He felt Bakura shrug with the shoulder that wasn't currently occupied. "I left. It has been made clear multiple times that you do not want me to get you kicked out of this school."
"And you want me close to Yugi-kun."
"And that," Bakura admitted. Ryou could hear the smirk in his voice.
The phantom room's two inhabitants sat in silence. Ryou willed the feeling of numbness to overtake him; it was much preferable to the chaotic jumble of emotions that had afflicted him earlier. Unfortunately, it didn't work, and the thoughts came anyway.
...He was pathetic; he got all twisted up from simple, everyday interactions. More than anything, he wanted to pretend like the whole ordeal had never occurred. If Bakura hadn't proved his nefarious nature on many occasions, Ryou doubted that he would have ever made a fuss about having his body taken over all willy-nilly. It wasn't in his nature to be assertive; it exhausted him.
Ryou lifted his head. He pushed the spirit's arm off his shoulders, and it fell without protest. He retreated to the other side of his former bed, resting his back against the headboard. Ryou's hair blocked his face as he pulled his knees to his chest, the Millennium Ring pushed flush against his t-shirt. The mass of feelings at his centre pulsed and squirmed, and Ryou struggled to contain them. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, and he couldn't hold them back this time. Rivulets of water slipped down his cheeks. His breath hitched as he tightened his grip on his knees.
The weight on the bed shifted, and Ryou assumed that Bakura had got up to leave until a hand on his shoulder nudged him closer to the wall. Ryou sniffed, meeting Bakura's eyes as the spirit sat beside him. A warm palm on his back encouraged him to move as Bakura gathered him into his lap. Long fingers carded through his white hair, brushing it out of his face. Bakura's hand cupped his cheek, brushing away the tear tracks with his thumb. Ryou looked up, studying Bakura's face, but whatever expression he was wearing, Ryou couldn't read it.
Ryou leaned his head against the spirit's chest. There was no heartbeat and no movement of breath. Simply… stillness, emptiness, quiet.
"What do you want?" Ryou whispered. Confusion joined the flow of disparate emotions. Bakura hushed him, pressing his finger against Ryou's lips. Ryou suppressed the urge to bite it. That would be extremely unhelpful in this situation.
Bakura's fingers returned their attention to Ryou's hair. "I'm here for you," he said like it was meant to be comforting. The worst thing was that it was true. In Ryou's moment of weakness, his family was absent, and his friends were nowhere to be seen. He was alone, except for Bakura.
Under the repetitive motion of a hand in his hair, Ryou allowed his body to relax, slumping against Bakura. "Thanks," he muttered into the familiar shirt. Bakura hummed in acknowledgement.
Here, in this quiet moment, the dam burst and Ryou cried.
Author's Note:
Caution: Do not rely on the ghost/yami-no-kami leeching off your soul for emotional support.
Next time on "A Day in the Life of Ryou Bakura": A surprise guest visits Ryou's apartment, and Ryou finally learns what Bakura was up to in the missing time.