Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Finality ❯ Reaction ( Chapter 2 )

Me: Hi! I'm back with the second and last chapter of this disturbing little fic! If you all remember Ryou killed himself last chapter-

Marik: No dip.

Me: *hits Marik with a can opener and continues* -and now we will see how Bakura reacts to this drastic action!

Isis: Dun dun dun…

Me: No sound effects please. Kaiba!

Kaiba: *STILL trying to get the gum out of his hair* She owns nothing. Except the knife.

Me: Well, I even stole that so really it isn't mine….

Kaiba: *sweatdrop*

Me: But nevermind that! On to the ficcy!

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Bakura had just almost gotten to Malik's house when he felt it. It was like a chunk of ice had fallen into his stomach. Immediately he knew what was going on. Something had happened to Ryou.

"Damn-" He quickly turned and ran back the way he had come. It had started to rain- drops pelted his face as he ran, cold and wet. Who thought up rain anyway? It never rained in Egypt. It never got cold either. The temperature was always at least seventy. Now he guessed it was maybe thirty-eight. Far too cold for his liking.

He got to the house and had just reached for the doorknob when he felt a part of his mind just blank. He couldn't feel anything except the cold wind and the raindrops spattering on his head. No…. //Ryou?// he called mentally. There was no answer. What had the idiot done now?

Bakura turned the doorknob and entered. An eerie silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the door closing. "Ryou!" he called again, out loud this time, shaking his wet hair out of his eyes Still no answer.

"Son of a bitch," Bakura muttered, tossing his coat on the floor as he headed towards the stairs. "If this is some prank I swear I'll beat the living-"

He dropped off. Passing the kitchen doorway, he thought he had seen-

No. It couldn't be.

Bakura whirled around and stared numbly at the scene before him. Ryou was lying limply on the kitchen floor, blood all over his sweater and the tiles beside him. The dark liquid was soaked into his matted hair, and one hand lay beside a knife sunk deep into his chest.

"Oh Ra…" Bakura stood in disbelief. Water dripped from the tips of his bangs, slipping down his face and mixing with the tears he hadn't even realized were there. "No, Ryou…" He rushed to his hikari's side. Ryou's face was unbelievably pale, a strong contrast to the deep red of the dried blood around his mouth. His eyes were shut, and he was smiling faintly.

"No-" Bakura's voice sounded hoarse. He stretched one trembling hand and touched Ryou's skin. It felt like ice under his fingertips. Bakura's breath caught in his throat.

Oh gods. I did this.

It all became horribly clear to Bakura. Ryou was unable to stand Bakura's daily physical abuse, so he had reduced himself to suicide. Bakura sat down weakly on the reddened floor, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself.

"You idiot," he said to himself, but speaking aloud. "How could you do this? You had friends, you had a life-" He broke off and let the tears slip past his eyelashes and down his cheeks.

Why? Why had Bakura done it? Why had he relentlessly beaten Ryou ever since the boy came into his life?

The answer came at once. Because he loved him. He cared so much about this innocent white-haired angel that it drove him insane. Love was so alien to Bakura- after his parents had died so long ago, he had to live by himself, scraping whatever money he could off the streets. That was why he had become a tomb robber, after all. Bakura had learned at a young age not to trust anyone but himself, and in this way he isolated himself to the world, made himself separate. He never thought anyone could care for him.

And then he met Ryou. That pure, trusting boy who would open up to anyone. Bakura felt so strongly about Ryou it confused him- and he tried to deny his feelings to himself by tormenting his hikari. Now he saw he had gone too far. Ryou was dead, and it was his fault. Bakura cringed when he remembered the last thing he had said to him…

Ryou lay curled up at the foot of the stairs, shaking and crying silently. Bakura descended towards him, with a look of disgustion on his face.

"You worthless, weak piece of shit," he said, kicking his hikari in the stomach as he passed him. "You're not good for anything. Why do you even bother with living?"

The guilt swept over Bakura in a sickening wave. It was his fault, all of it was his fault. He had taken Ryou's life from him. He had always known he was a thief, and even prided himself on it at times, but this- this was far worse. He was a murderer, and that knowledge made him want to throw up. Gods, what had he done?

There was only one way to set things right now, Bakura realized with a sense of dread. He couldn't bring Ryou back, but he could go to hell for him. They were soulmates, and soulmates shouldn't be seperated even in death. If Ryou went, so did he. After all, shouldn't Bakura have died hundreds of years ago? If he hadn't been trapped in the Millenium Ring, he would have. It was only fair.

With fear coursing like a toxin through his veins, Bakura bent over the still form of his hikari and gently pried the knife from his chest. "I'm coming, Ryou," he whispered, and on a sudden impulse touched his shaking lips to Ryou's bloody ones. The cold of the boy's flesh only reminded Bakura of what he had done, and his fresh tears landed sofly on Ryou's face before he pulled away.

Composing himself somewhat, Bakura looked at the knife. The blade was stained with his hikari's blood, and gazing at it brought about a sort of dramatic irony. Ryou and he were two halves of a whole, so technically Ryou's blood was his blood. This knife would kill the same person twice tonight. Bakura smiled sadly thinking how he was going to kill himself, yet he was already dead and laying on the floor. It made no sense and at the same time it did.

Without further hesitaion he jammed the knife into the same spot Ryou had. The sudden pain overwhelmed him and he dropped on his side, gasping for breath. Is this how Ryou had felt, in his last painful moments? No. He was happy. He had wanted to die.

"And I would have wanted to die with you," Bakura rasped, tears still streaming down his face. "I love you Ryou, and by the gods I am so sorry for what I've done to you." He pulled the knife out of his chest with great effort, letting it drop from his fingers and clatter onto the floor. He looked down and saw his blood rushing out, soaking through his shirt, his very life pouring out onto the tiles just like Ryou's had only minutes before. With every stab of pain that jolted Bakura's nerves, he was reminded of how Ryou felt when he lay here, slowly dying with no one to even see him bleed. In his broken heart Bakura knew that thought would haunt him forever, even in death.

Yet as he lay there twitching, he thought numbly, this is right. This is how it should be. He could feel himself dying, the cold and dark taking over his senses. His vision was fading, and he could hardly feel the pain, it was dull, now it was gone- there was no pain, no knife in his chest, no nothing. He took one last shuddering breath and thought, I'm coming for you, Ryou. Hold on.

His eyelids slid shut and for the second time that evening a white-haired teen lay on the cold kitchen floor, with the only witness to his death a steel blade that lay discarded, uncaring and unfeeling, the fresh blood it was coated with dripping onto the tainted linoleum, a sound that would echo silently throughout the house forever.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

owari

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Me: Jeez- I even scared myself that time. *sqeezing bakura muse very tightly*

Bakura: *blink*

Isis: *once again looks very disturbed*

Marik: Daaaaamn.

Kaiba: You can say that again.

Marik: Daaaaamn.

Kaiba: *sweatdrop* Um- review please- thanks?

Me: I swear to God, I had NO idea I could write like this…