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Description

Bakura stared at the same building he had before. Ryou's apartment building. The only difference from that day was the time. He had previously been hidden under the shroud of darkness now he was kissed by the last dying rays of golden sun.Â

It had been 1 month, 2 weeks, 4 days, 15 hours, 24 minutes, and, he snuck a glance at his watch, 49 seconds since he had last seen Ryou. He had hidden out in the mountains in hope of erasing his feeling for his hikari. Now, he believed, the feeling had been stamped out. Now he was putting his training to the ultimate test by actually seeing Ryou.Â

He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the night air. His eyes flickered between the door and the window. Which one? He chose the latter and was soon scaling the building to Ryou's window. A quick peeked showed that Ryou was not in his room. Bakura shimmed the window open and jumped inside, his bare feet not making a sound on the carpeted ground. He sashayed over to the door and slipped into the hallway. A soft sound came from the living room. He braced himself and emerged from the hallway.Â

One look and his resolve fell. All his feelings for Ryou that he had hidden came rushing back. For the longest time he only had eyes for the small hikari curled up in Bakura's favorite chair. Seconds passed and sounds connected to images. Ryou was curled up holding what looked like one of Bakura's old shirts, sobbing. Though Bakura couldn't see Ryou's face he could hear the shallow, raspy breathes he drew as he fought the onslaught of tears.Â

A small sound escaped Bakura and Ryou lifted his head slowly. Tears laced his pale face.Â

"Bakura..." Ryou gasped as he raised his tear studded eyes to meet Bakura shocked eyes.Â

Ryou stood and slowly walked over to him. "Are you real?" he asked.

"R-r-ryou!" Baura finally managed to choke out. "Are you alright?"

Ryou raised a hand to Bakura's face, as though he could not believe that he was real. "You're alive," he whispered in awe.Â

"Yeah..." was all Bakura could manage. He longed to trap Ryou's hand to his cheek with his own hand but he had been made into a statue of stone.Â

"You're alive..." Ryou said again. This time the ring of awe was lost, replaced by anger. Ryou drew his hand away harshly. "You bastard!"Â

Bakura was confused by Ryou's sudden change of moods. "W-w-wha..."Â

"I thought you were dead!" Ryou screamed. "It has been weeks since you went missing. No note, no phone calls, no letters, nothing to even suggest that you were alive! The night you disappeared the bar that you usually hang out with burned down. They found serveral illegal immigrants in there. I thought one of them was you!!!! You fifthly Son of a Bitch!"Â

Tears of anger glimmered in Ryou's eyes. His face was a deathly pallor, his eyes rimmed red. He raised a shaking hand. The hand disappeared in a flash and pain bloomed on Bakura's cheek.Â

"Out," Ryou hissed, too mad to yell. "Get out before I do something I regret."Â

"B-but..." Bakura started. He stopped. There was nothing to say. He had disappeared for no reason to forget about Ryou. Revealing that would just hurt his case more.Â

Bakura bowed his head. "Alright..." he retreated to the door, pausing only to throw one last glance at his hikari.Â

Ryou stood, shaking with anger. His hand was still raised from when he had hit Bakura. His whole body heaved with every breath. Anger pulsed from him, all directed at Bakura. And yet... Bakura had never been more in love with Ryou than right then.Â

It was raining when Bakura had finally left Ryou's apartment. Darkness, along with rain, had fallen. His guilt deeped with every drop of rain that hit him, feeling as though someone was slashing repeativlely at an open wound. Every word Ryou had hurled at him was etched into his memory, replaying over and over again. How could he have been so stupid? He smashed his fist against the brick wall of a nearby building. Scraps of flesh were torn off as Bakura dropped his hand to his side. Blood slowly oozed onto his pale skin, staining it red. He stared at the torn skin and blood. This time the physical pain brought no relief from the pain scaring his heart. His cracked, broken, bleeding heart. And the worst part, he deserved it, every heartbreaking, exuciating minute of it.

As the night carried on he was face with a looming problem. He sighed, no place to go besides... oh damn, he was screwed.

With a heavy heart Bakura trudged to the house that no one would ever dare go if they had the choice.... Marik's....

Description

Bakura stared at the same building he had before. Ryou's apartment building. The only difference from that day was the time. He had previously been hidden under the shroud of darkness now he was kissed by the last dying rays of golden sun.Â

It had been 1 month, 2 weeks, 4 days, 15 hours, 24 minutes, and, he snuck a glance at his watch, 49 seconds since he had last seen Ryou. He had hidden out in the mountains in hope of erasing his feeling for his hikari. Now, he believed, the feeling had been stamped out. Now he was putting his training to the ultimate test by actually seeing Ryou.Â

He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with the night air. His eyes flickered between the door and the window. Which one? He chose the latter and was soon scaling the building to Ryou's window. A quick peeked showed that Ryou was not in his room. Bakura shimmed the window open and jumped inside, his bare feet not making a sound on the carpeted ground. He sashayed over to the door and slipped into the hallway. A soft sound came from the living room. He braced himself and emerged from the hallway.Â

One look and his resolve fell. All his feelings for Ryou that he had hidden came rushing back. For the longest time he only had eyes for the small hikari curled up in Bakura's favorite chair. Seconds passed and sounds connected to images. Ryou was curled up holding what looked like one of Bakura's old shirts, sobbing. Though Bakura couldn't see Ryou's face he could hear the shallow, raspy breathes he drew as he fought the onslaught of tears.Â

A small sound escaped Bakura and Ryou lifted his head slowly. Tears laced his pale face.Â

"Bakura..." Ryou gasped as he raised his tear studded eyes to meet Bakura shocked eyes.Â

Ryou stood and slowly walked over to him. "Are you real?" he asked.

"R-r-ryou!" Baura finally managed to choke out. "Are you alright?"

Ryou raised a hand to Bakura's face, as though he could not believe that he was real. "You're alive," he whispered in awe.Â

"Yeah..." was all Bakura could manage. He longed to trap Ryou's hand to his cheek with his own hand but he had been made into a statue of stone.Â

"You're alive..." Ryou said again. This time the ring of awe was lost, replaced by anger. Ryou drew his hand away harshly. "You bastard!"Â

Bakura was confused by Ryou's sudden change of moods. "W-w-wha..."Â

"I thought you were dead!" Ryou screamed. "It has been weeks since you went missing. No note, no phone calls, no letters, nothing to even suggest that you were alive! The night you disappeared the bar that you usually hang out with burned down. They found serveral illegal immigrants in there. I thought one of them was you!!!! You fifthly Son of a Bitch!"Â

Tears of anger glimmered in Ryou's eyes. His face was a deathly pallor, his eyes rimmed red. He raised a shaking hand. The hand disappeared in a flash and pain bloomed on Bakura's cheek.Â

"Out," Ryou hissed, too mad to yell. "Get out before I do something I regret."Â

"B-but..." Bakura started. He stopped. There was nothing to say. He had disappeared for no reason to forget about Ryou. Revealing that would just hurt his case more.Â

Bakura bowed his head. "Alright..." he retreated to the door, pausing only to throw one last glance at his hikari.Â

Ryou stood, shaking with anger. His hand was still raised from when he had hit Bakura. His whole body heaved with every breath. Anger pulsed from him, all directed at Bakura. And yet... Bakura had never been more in love with Ryou than right then.Â

It was raining when Bakura had finally left Ryou's apartment. Darkness, along with rain, had fallen. His guilt deeped with every drop of rain that hit him, feeling as though someone was slashing repeativlely at an open wound. Every word Ryou had hurled at him was etched into his memory, replaying over and over again. How could he have been so stupid? He smashed his fist against the brick wall of a nearby building. Scraps of flesh were torn off as Bakura dropped his hand to his side. Blood slowly oozed onto his pale skin, staining it red. He stared at the torn skin and blood. This time the physical pain brought no relief from the pain scaring his heart. His cracked, broken, bleeding heart. And the worst part, he deserved it, every heartbreaking, exuciating minute of it.

As the night carried on he was face with a looming problem. He sighed, no place to go besides... oh damn, he was screwed.

With a heavy heart Bakura trudged to the house that no one would ever dare go if they had the choice.... Marik's....