Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ How to Save a Life ❯ How It Will Be: Always ( Chapter 13 )

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Let me apologize to begin with.

-- (Linkin Park) In Between

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“Just tell me his name,” Garrett begged, gripping the silver bracelet tightly in his hands.

He knew Malik cheated on him, even if the Egyptian didn't say anything. And he was willing to forgive him - he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't, considering he'd done the same thing (and with a complete stranger, no less; although, Ryou could hardly be considered a stranger now, with how frequently he occupied the redhead's mind).

Malik stared at him emotionlessly. Garrett speculated, since it was capable of disappearing so quickly, if the love between them had ever really existed. Shrugging into his black jacket, Malik sighed and shook his head.

“Ryou,” he stated simply.

The word was enough to make Garrett step back in shock. His green eyes widened in bewilderment, his jaw slackening in surprise. For a moment, he fish-mouthed, unable to find any words that could properly convey the extent of his confusion.

“R-Ryou?” he gasped, voice an octave higher than usual.

Malik nodded his head, perplexed by his fiancé's reaction; he reached for the doorknob.

Garrett stuttered again, unable to fathom the thought of his lover actually seeking company from Room21. Malik seemed too noble to ever do such a thing. “As in... the-the prostitute?”

Malik's hand froze, poised perfectly about the knob. Lavender orbs narrowed slightly. Whipping around to face Garrett again, he asked in a low voice bridled with suspicion and disbelief, “the what?”

Garrett bit down on his lower lip, wondering if he'd made a mistake in assuming the identity of Malik's mysterious ex-lover. Ryou wasn't exactly a common name in these parts, but the redhead was sure that the Ryou of Room21 was not the only Ryou. Although, what were the odds that there would be two people with such an uncommon name in the same city?

 

Seeing Malik's demanding stair, he slowly repeated himself. “The... there's a dancer at Room21,” he explained, wetting his lips, “named Ryou. It-it might just be a coincidence -”

 

“— And how would you know this?” Malik's voice was rising considerably, fueled no doubt by his suspicions, his jealousy, and his anger.

 

“I've... been there. Seen him.”

 

“Slept with him?” Malik accused, lavender eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

 

Well, it was now or never. Garrett figured the truth of his little affair with Ryou would come out eventually, and he supposed he'd rather have Malik find out directly through him than through the grapevine. Slowly, very slowly, he inclined his head to confirm Malik's uncertainties.

 

Malik made a frustrated noise, fisting his hands in his perfect blonde hair and tugging at the tresses as if the action would somehow bring him relief instead of more pain. “I-I can't believe - how? - When? When did this happen? How many times?”

 

Taking a step away from his fiancé, Garrett began to fiddle with his hands. “A few weeks ago, when you were out of town... And it's... we've... a few times.”

 

Emerald orbs watched Malik carefully, taking in his reaction. At first, the Egyptian male looked as if he was ready to murder someone, but gradually his expression began to change, the intense anger draining away to reveal an inconsolable sadness. Malik's brilliant amethyst eyes dulled to a lifeless lavender, and his grip on his hair loosened slightly. He was saying something, but Garrett had trouble hearing what it was.

 

...there things about me you don't know - things I could never tell you...

 

Malik felt as if his perfect world was crashing down around him. Not only had his fiancé cheated on him - on more than one occasion, might he add - but he had cheated on him with Malik's own ex-lover. And the evening before... that night with Ryou... It was just...

 

...because I'm a coward and I'm afraid that you'll hate me if you find out

 

Malik never felt so humiliated in his life. How had he not realized it sooner? The answer was staring him right in the face the entire time, and a clue of it rested upstairs in his bedroom in the form of a hastily scrawled note.

 

...Forget about me and marry Garrett and have a happy life together.

 

How else would Ryou know his fiancé's name? It wasn't as if the Egyptian had made a point to actually tell Ryou he was engaged, after all. But Ryou had known... Ryou had known all along, and he still...

 

...I've done so many awful things, including what I did last night.

 

He did it on purpose, Malik realized, lilac orbs widening slightly in recognition. He was jealous... so he decided to sleep with me and Garrett in order to cause a fight like this - to break us up.

 

While the idea seemed like ludicrous at first - after all, this was Ryou Bakura he was talking about; the man wasn't known for holding grudges - the more Malik thought on it the more sense it made. Why wouldn't Ryou do something like this? If he really was a prostitute now, a plan such as this would not require him to sink any lower, reputation-wise.

 

Whore, Malik seethed. That whore... nothing but a cheap slut.

 

...Don't try looking for me, please.

 

Standing to his full height, Malik straightened his shoulders and set his jaw, pinning Garrett with a questioning stare. “Room21, you said?”

 

 

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Between my pride and my promise.

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Room21 was jumping with its typical riotous crowd, voices chattering loudly over the upbeat techno music. A thick fog of cigarette smoke hung in the air, coupled wit the smell of various alcohol and body odor. Outside a storm raged.

 

Valon Dawe held his position behind the bar, mopping up a puddle of beer from the countertop with a wet rag. He sighed once the mess was cleaned, dropping the rag and crossing his toned arms over his chest. Ever since his shift started he hadn't been in the best of moods. Taking into consideration that he'd already been forced to call a bouncer over to break up a heated fight, it was understandable why his spirits were not at their typical high.

 

The brunette was not quite prepared - especially now, in this disposition - to receive an emotionally distressed Ryou Bakura. Actually, since this one of the dancer's nights off, Valon was surprised to eve see Ryou near the premises of Room21.

 

“This is the only place he won't find me,” Ryou explained, after catching Valon's skeptical expression.

 

The words only served to further bewilder the Aussie, but after a moment Valon shrugged his shoulders indifferently and proceeded to mix Ryou's favorite drink.

 

Ryou gave him a thin-lipped smile as a glass filled with an orange-red liquid was presented to him, taking a generous sip and smacking his lips afterwards.

 

Valon leaned over the counter, chin in hand, and waited eagerly for the gossip. “So,” he prompted, “who is this `he' you're trying to escape from?”

 

Frowning, the whitenette skillfully changed the subject. “You don't happen to have a fag on you, by chance?”

 

Blue eyes blinked curiously and Valon reached into his back pocket, pulling out a small carton of cigarettes. “Though you didn't smoke...”

 

“I don't,” Ryou said, nodding, “but I might start. I hear it's a great stress reliever.”

 

“... It's also a great way to get cancer,” Valon informed as he handed Ryou the cigarette and a lighter.

 

Ryou took the offered items. “Smart-aleck,” he chastised, lighting the cigarette and raising it to his lips.

 

After taking a drag, he blew the smoke in Valon's face. The bartender remained unfazed by the action, merely quirking an eyebrow at the white-haired male and holding back a smirk as he watched the younger try and keep from coughing. Sensing his amusement, Ryou repeated the action, this time hiding his unease quite well.

 

Valon rolled his eyes and nabbed the cigarette right out from under Ryou's nose. “Give me that.” As the whitenette uttered a protest, he crushed the fag in the nearest ashtray and then pinned his fellow Room21 employee with a curious stare. Ryou avoided his gaze and took a long sip of his drink. The bartender sighed, “what are you doing, Ryou?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You know what I mean.” But when Ryou gave no indication to prove that point, Valon continued, elaborating with, “what are you doing here?”

 

Ryou was silent, staring at his drink forlornly. After a minute or so, he shook his head. “I don't know... I didn't know where else to go, and I had to go somewhere. I couldn't stay home...” Sighing heavily, he lowered himself down so that his head was pillowed in his arms. “I-I can't stop thinking about him, Valon.”

 

“Him?”

 

“... I know it's wrong, that I shouldn't be... but I can't help it. I love him so much... it's hard to forget about love, right? You-you would never forget about Alistair.”

 

Valon blinked and once again crossed his arms over his chest. “I take it you aren't talking about Xander,” he guessed; he knew fully well of Ryou's suitor. “The other one, then. Malik?”

 

Ryou's body tensed, then relaxed - a good indicator that Valon struck gold. “He's engaged,” the whitenette mumbled, tonelessly. “And I... I slept with his fiancé. More than once.”

 

In a small voice, the dancer retold the story to the intrigued bartender, who in turn whistled lowly at the end of it.

 

“I don't know what to tell you, Ryou. It sounds like you've done the right thing, but... that's made you completely miserable.” He thought for a moment before asking, “did you ever consider that Malik wanted you back just as much as you wanted him? You shouldn't be so afraid to think he might love you still.”

 

“... He wouldn't love me if he knew about what I am... He would be so ashamed.”

 

“But if he loved you, he'd get over it.”

 

“I could never tell him...”

 

Valon didn't say anything more, knowing it would be futile to try and change Ryou's mind. Ryou nursed half of his drink before pushing it aside. As he was about to reach into his pocket, the bartender placed a hand on his shoulder, halting him.

 

“It's on the house,” Valon told him, offering a kind smile which Ryou - with a little trouble - returned.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“No problem. Cheer up, eh?”

 

Nodding, Ryou slid off of his barstool and began walking towards the club's exit. Xander was probably waiting for him back at the apartment, so he figured it would be best to avoid an argument with him and just head home. But first... he still needed some time alone, to clear his thoughts and reaffirm that the choice he made had been the right one.

 

He brushed passed the dance floor, taking a quick glance at the small stage where he could see Vivian dancing solo. The whitenette slid behind the platform, unnoticed by the captivated attendants of Vivian's spectacle, and quickly arrived at his dressing room door - which, to his surprise, was ajar.

 

Curious, Ryou placed his hand on the knob and pushed the door open. The lights were on, and someone was standing in front of the body-length mirror - someone Ryou knew all-too well, and dreaded seeing.

 

“Malik...”

 

The blonde didn't turn to face the older man. Instead, he kept facing the mirror. Ryou closed the door behind him, taking care to slide the lock into place as he did so. Afterwards, he approached the Egyptian.

 

“How did you find out?” he asked, not bothering to try and pretend to be innocent. If Malik was there, in his dressing room of all places, he obviously knew that this was where his former lover now worked.

 

The slight downward twitch of Malik's lips was the only movement from the stoic male. “So it's true then?” he finally spoke.

 

Ryou hesitated a moment, not quite sure what to say to that. “... It depends on what you've heard,” he answered slowly, for certainly there were many rumors that surrounded him given his line of work.

 

The twitch reappeared, and a faint growl emitted from the Egyptian. To Ryou, the other male seemed to be waging a mental war with himself - and losing, if the subtle shaking of his shoulders was any indication of the emotions taking over the younger male.

 

“That you... that you do this.” Malik did not need to elaborate on what `this' was, but he decided to do so anyways. “Whore yourself.”

 

Ryou visibly flinched at the choice of words. In all of his years at Room21, he always tried to convince himself that what he did was different than what a hooker did on a nightly basis - that he was different than the common streetwalker. He had morals, even if it didn't seem like it. He had pride, even though there wasn't much of it left to speak of. He was still... human. He wasn't just some machine that spread his legs every night just because he wanted sex. He needed the money; this was the only place...

 

“It's not like that…” he began softly, slowly raising his eyes to meet Malik's only to drop them just as quickly as he caught sight of the furious look in the other man's eyes.

 

“Of course it's like that! Look at where you work - you're a prostitute, Ryou! You spread your legs for any slimy man willing to give you a buck!”

 

Ryou suddenly felt very small and aware of his own dirtiness. Who was he kidding? Malik was right. He was just a whore. Even if his reasons for taking this job were different than most, the fact still remained that he sold his body to high-paying customers - that he slept around with men and probably destroyed numerous amounts of beautiful relationships; Malik and Garrett were living proof of that. No... he was even worse than the common whore, because he actually made his customers pay more for him than they would for just an average hooker.

 

“... And there I was thinking that what we had the other night meant something to you,” Malik was saying, an angry snarl on his face that caused Ryou to take a step away from him. “Obviously for you it was just another night on the job. What, were you looking for a new regular? Your old ones getting tired of you or something? Or perhaps you were feeling generous - maybe you decided to give me a freebie since I used to be your lover.”

 

Ryou's voice was shaky as he spoke. “Malik... don't...”

 

“Well how much do you usually charge, Ryou?” the blonde-haired man asked, reaching into his back pocket and removing his wallet. “How much do any of these worthless assholes pay to have you suck on their cock, huh? How much for a good fuck?”

 

“Don't...”

 

The whitenette couldn't find a voice to speak with. Never in his life had he ever felt more humiliated, and the sinking feeling in his stomach only increased as Malik began to throw money at him. The paper bills fluttered to the floor, landing at the dancer's feet mockingly.

 

“How much, Ryou? Is this enough?” Another note dropped and Malik advanced on the pale-skinned man. Ryou didn't move, only gasped softly as Malik grabbed his hair and forced him into a kneeling position. “Can I get you on your back with this?”

 

Tears began to form in Ryou's eyes, and not for the first time, he regretted ever letting Malik wriggle back into his life. “It wasn't like that!” he cried, cheeks burning in embarrassment. After all that had happened between them, Malik still didn't believe that he loved him. “That night meant more to me than-than any amount of money! I love you, Malik, I-I -”

 

“Don't give me that bullshit. You don't know what love means.”

 

“I love you! I love you - I've always loved you!”

 

Malik tugged on his hair to get him to shut up and Ryou screamed in frustration and agony. Why was this happening to him? All he'd ever wanted was to forget Malik Ishtar ever even existed. Why did he have to come back... why did he have to be in love with him still?

 

“I-I told you not to... I told you to stay away from me, Malik,” Ryou sobbed, “I knew things would end up like this... You-you'd never understand... But you should understand. It was your fault, after all.” Accusing mocha orbs glared up at the dark-skinned male, and Ryou actually felt hatred towards him. “If I'd never laid eyes on you... If I never loved you, I... this never would have happened to me!”

 

“Don't try to make me feel guilty.”

 

“No, I want you to feel guilty, Malik Ishtar!” Ryou said, slowly standing back up. “I want you to know what you put me through.” He straightened his posture, trying to regain a semblance of dignity and failing. “You're right. Every night... every night I give myself to a complete stranger, and I get good money for it. But every night, I have to have a different man touch me - do disgusting, filthy things to me. Every night I sleep with another man... I have to see another man's face, when the only face I want to see - the only face I've e-ever wanted to see - beside me is yours. And after all the years I've had to endure that pain... I think the least you could feel is a little bit of guilt. Now...”

 

Ryou raised a hand and pointed stiffly to the door. “Get out. And take your money with you. Consider the other night a gift if you want, but don't ever come back here again. Leave me alone - for good this time.”

 

Malik didn't say anything at first, only kept his livid amethyst eyes focused on the whitenette. After several moments, he stormed out of the room, leaving the pile of notes on the floor at Ryou's feet. The sound of the door swinging shut behind him echoed in the changing room, and when he was gone Ryou fell to the floor and began to sob, knowing now that the final shred of hope in his heart had been demolished and once again his heart lay in ruins.

 

This time, however, there would never be anyone to pick up the pieces.