Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Finality ❯ Action ( Chapter 1 )

Me: This is one of the most morbid ideas I've ever had in my life, so if you don't like morbidosity don't read this. And I'm sorry if I offend any Ryou or Bakura lovers out there- CHARACTER DEATHS, PEOPLE! You have been warned! Turn back before it's too late! Turn baaaack!

Isis: Is morbidosity even a word?

Me: Hell if I know….. KAIIIIIIBA!

Kaiba: *is still trying to get gum out of his hair* AMK does not own ygo.

Me: Dang straight! On with the fic!

******************************************

Ryou sat on the edge of the bathtub, his face buried in his hands. His back and stomach still hurt from the blows that Bakura had inflicted before heading out- most likely to Malik's house.

Ryou lifted his shirt and checked his stomach. It was a mass of purplish bruises that were still swelling, so many it almost hurt to breathe, let alone move. He couldn't see his back, but he guessed it was somewhat in the same condition. There was a stinging on his cheek where he had been slapped. There was also a dull throbbing in his shoulder, and blood was trickling from his cut lip. His head ached, and his eyes were puffy from crying. Did Bakura like to see him cry?

Why did this always happen? Bakura seemed to constantly need someone to inflict pain on, so he took it out on his hikari. What was it about Bakura that wanted to cause so much damage? Maybe he was just psychopathic, like Malik's yami- Ryou had noticed more than a couple bruises on the Egyptian's arms and face the few times he was around him, but something told him that wasn't it. Bakura didn't seem the type to simply beat someone up for no reason. But then what was the reason? What had Ryou ever done to him?

Whatever it was, Ryou had had it. He was tired of being abused, tired of being beaten until it hurt to walk. Maybe Bakura was eventually going to kill him. Ryou wasn't going to give him that pleasure.

He stood uneasily and staggered toward the sink. Bending down, Ryou splashed cold water on his face, trying to clear his head. He barely felt the cool drops slide down his cheeks. His mind was hazy with a sudden, reckless desire. Why not, he thought. It would certainly happen one way or another. Why not now?

Ryou seemed to draw an unexpected strength from his decision. Heading out of the bathroom, he walked down the hall to his bedroom, leaning on the wall for support. With every step he felt his legs threatening to give out beneath him.

When he reached his bedroom, he looked around. He wanted to remember it just the way it was. His eyes fell on two picture frames sitting on his dresser. Ryou made his way over and looked at them, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

The first picture was of his friends- Yugi, Joey, Tristan, and Tea. Ryou remembered the day they had first met Bakura, in that shadow game at Duelist Kingdom. Since then, he had preferred never to talk about his yami to them. Ryou couldn't count all the times he had lied to them, telling them his life was fine and Bakura wasn't anything to worry about. Tristan had tried to get rid of his Millennium Ring during the duelist kingdom finals. Ryou hadn't had the heart to tell him he had tried the same thing several times before, and it always found a way back to him. Bakura's right, Ryou thought. I'm nothing but a weakling.

The other picture was of his father. Unlike his friends, Ryou's father had never found out about Bakura. His father had bought him the Millennium Ring in the first place- Ryou couldn't tell him what it had really turned out to be. His father would be heartbroken. Ryou had lied to him too- about Bakura, about his injuries- countless times he had held back the truth, and his father had believed him.

Ryou turned away from the photographs, trying not to feel the hot tears slipping down his face, washing away the blood that was drying there. He would miss his father and friends so much- but he had to do this.

Ryou somehow got from his bedroom to the kitchen without falling down. The bruises on his stomach had swelled even more, so that every breath felt like another punch, and his eyes felt raw and dry from crying. With every stab of pain that washed over him, he silently cursed Bakura for reducing him to this. There was no other way to solve the conflict between them. He felt in his soul that Bakura would hate him forever, and his heart had grown heavier with that feeling every day. He regretted that he had never gotten the chance to know Bakura better, but that was all in the past now. He would do what he must, and Bakura-?

Bakura would deal with the incident however he chose to.

Ryou pulled open a drawer under the kitchen countertop. There it lay, gleaming innocently in the fluorescent lighting. Ryou picked it up with trembling fingers. It felt deathly cold against his skin. His pain felt somehow lessened, knowing that this was the solution to all his problems. He only regretted that no one would ever know the truth of what drove him to it- no, that was secret he alone would carry forever.

"I'm sorry," Ryou whispered, clutching the object to his chest. "I'm sorry everyone, for lying to you. I hope you can all forgive me, and what I've done tonight. And I'm sorry Bakura, for not knowing why I'm doing this. You'll just have to find someone new to take out your anger on. I hope you can forgive me too."

With that spoken, Ryou took a deep breath and rammed the knife into his chest. It sliced through his flesh, piercing his heart directly, but he was only dimly aware of the pain. Pain was no stranger to him.

Ryou's legs gave way and he collasped onto the floor. Blood gushed from his wound, seeping into his white sweater, staining the linoleum that he lay on. Ryou could almost feel the life draining from him, and a wild, perverted happiness swept through him. There was nothing anyone could do now. He felt blood bubble in his throat, trickling from his mouth, sliding down his jawline. Ryou took one last, rasping breath before it gurgled in his throat and the blackness consumed him. His eyes glazed over and finally closed forever.

The snowy-haired boy lay sprawled on the kitchen tiles, one arm limp at his side, the other grasping a knife that was lodged in his chest. His eyelids were heavy with eternal rest, but a small smile curled around his lips, making his face calm despite the blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. There was no doubt that his soul was at peace, no matter the state of the body it had left behind. He was happy now.

******************************************

Me: Whoah. I didn't know I could write like that.

Isis: *looks very disturbed*

Marik+Kaiba: *still trying to get gum out of their hair*

Me: Bubbleicious- very sticky- well, you people are probably thinking the fic's over, but it's not! How will Bakura react to Ryou's decision to commit suicide? Well review and I'll post the next chapter so you can find out! Duh! ^^