Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ The Note ❯ The Note ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own- all characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi. I am merely borrowing them for the fun of it!

 

Warnings: Attempted suicide, self-harm, angst, YAOI! Boy on boy stuff here! I think that's it… Please enjoy!

 

Note: I refer to Ryou Bakura as Ryou, and I refer to Yami Bakura as Bakura.

 

The Note

 

Shaking, pale hands gently folded a thin piece of white paper. Pure white teeth gently worried a pale pink lower lip as slender fingers began writing a name on the outside of the small note.

 

Soft white hair, usually so bright, seemed limp and lifeless. Chocolate eyes, usually so full of sparkle and warmth, had finally lost those last traces of life. While his heart did still beat, he felt empty. It was less a feeling of nothingness and more like a vacuum, where any emotion he was lucky enough to fell quickly slipped through his fingers.

 

Ryou placed the letter on the kitchen table. Various other versions of the note lay scattered around his small workstation, some smudged by tears and others ruined because his hands couldn't seem to stop shaking. Pushing himself back in his chair, he stood. He collected every alternate version of the letter he had just written, tossing each and every one into the trash can.

 

All he would need was the final note- it said all that he knew was needed.

 

A slight spark of warmth entered the tired chocolate eyes, but that spark was quickly snuffed out.

 

"Goodbye." Ryou whispered to himself, turning away from the clean, white-tiled room. His feet seemed unusually heavy, but it was a detached heaviness- his body could have been replaced with a Ryou-sized piece of lead, and he would barely have noticed. Very soon, what would it matter anyway?

 

'Bakura's gone out with Mariku and Malik tonight. I don't think he'll be home anytime soon.'

 

The thought was oddly depressing, yet somehow comforting. It shouldn't have been able to accomplish both things at once, but the fact that Ryou was completely alone and would be for some time was both a comfort and a depressant.

 

On one hand, no one would be here to stop him and talk sense into him. Oh, how he would love to listen to sense- problem was, no one was here to try and reason with him, and that loneliness fueled his actions. It was incredibly complex, but Ryou had long since stopped trying to understand how his mind worked.

 

On the other hand...

 

If he wanted to stop sometime in the middle- if he chickened out and froze- then what would he do if he didn't have the strength to call for help? Of course, were someone here in the first place, Ryou would like to think that he wouldn't be in a position to have to call for help.

 

He slowly ascended the stairs, a numb feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.

 

This was it. He was actually going to do it, after so many plans and so many attempts that had failed before they had even begun... after stopping himself for fear, he had finally cracked and was no longer going to stop. What reason did he have now, to continue like this?

 

As he reached the top of the stairs, he paused for just a moment. He glanced back down the carpeted steps, eyes dim and unreadable.

 

Even though he couldn't see it, he could almost feel the letter sitting on the table as it waited for a certain someone to come home.

 

Ryou moved his gaze to his feet, biting his lip.

 

It wasn't worth it.

 

He stepped forward again, moving towards a small room just a few feet down the hallway the stairs had led him to. A light shone from the edges of the wooden door, just slightly ajar. He pushed it open, blinking rapidly- from the light, or so he told himself- as he glanced around.

 

Everything- though it wouldn't require much- was set up. Everything was settled, and he was ready.

 

His eyes trailed over the white marble counter, skirting over a small knife placed casually on top, silver blade gleaming in the harsh bathroom light. The cold tiles under his feet were all white, as well as the paint. In fact, everything- down to the towels that hung on a rack next to the combination shower/bathtub were pure white.

 

Hands shaking again, Ryou lifted his fingers to the dark blue button up shirt he had worn that day. One by one, clumsy fingers undid the row of buttons, pale shoulders shrugging the material off his body.

 

Eyes blank, he lifted his bared arms to study them.

 

Lines even paler than his skin crossed up and down his arms, memories of pain long since passed but still haunting. Without looking, he knew his chest- goosebumps raising on his flesh in the cold- was also partially covered in scars. His arms had been his favorite place to cut, however, so his chest was relatively undamaged.

 

He took a deep breath, reaching a hand out for the knife. He gripped the handle, looking at it one last time.

 

It was a masterpiece- he knew that much. The hilt of the dagger was in a sort of yin-yang pattern, one half of it white, the other half of it black with a small spot of the opposite color at the very top. A thin line of silver, the metal branching out at the bottom to form the guard, divided the two colors. The blade itself was about as long as his hand was, if you included his fingers.

 

It wasn't his knife- he didn't own any- but it did belong to his darker half. It seemed to represent them so well. Even though Ryou knew his yami would be angry with him for borrowing the knife, Ryou hadn't been able to resist using the pretty blade instead of the ordinary kitchen knife he usually used.

 

It just... felt right.

 

Still staring at the weapon, Ryou took a few small steps forward, placing the knife down next to him as he knelt next to the small bathtub. Body shaking and shivering, he turned his gaze to the water knobs.

 

Swallowing heavily, he reached out a hand. Fear began overwhelming his senses- fear of what would happen if he succeeded, if he failed. Fear of what he would do to himself. Fear of what others would say.

 

His vision slowly clouded over, the world swimming as his hand tried and failed to grasp the knob to release water. Blinking rapidly and only vaguely noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks, he tried again.

 

The metal felt cold under his palm, the feel of it hardening his resolve.

 

He had already decided upon this. He couldn't go back now- not when he had come this far. Grasping the metal knob tightly, he turned it.

 

Water roared out of the spigot, hitting the plastic floor of the tub hard and slowly spreading to fill it up. Ryou had placed the stopper in the drain before he had composed his note.

 

Coolly detached, he turned his eyes to his knife. As though in a trance, he picked it up and brought it to one of his scarred arms.

 

He noted that the metal seemed colder than the knife he usually used as he drew it deeply across his wrist. The pain still burned the same, but it was as if the pain belonged to another body.

 

Bright crimson followed the blade. He watched it in fascination for a moment, before drawing the blade across that same flesh again, cutting deeper than before at a different angle, watching the blood pour down his forearm and spill upwards to collect in his palm. The bright color spilled through his fingers, warm crimson drops staining the floor he knelt on.

 

Eyes watering again, Ryou transferred the blade to his bloody hand, the liquid making him almost drop the knife. He tightened his grip on it, drawing the sharp edge across his other wrist.

 

Red rose on white skin.

 

Bile rising in his throat, he drew it across again. Again.

 

Crimson waves spilled from his veins, blood gushing from already scarred skin. The knife slipped from his fingers- barely able to see for tears and blood loss, Ryou blindly leaned forward and turned the water off before pushing the damaged skin under the surface of the water. The water around his wrists turned pink, the color slowly darkening and spreading as he leaned forward to rest his suddenly heavy body against the side of the tub.

 

He closed his eyes, the world fading away. He could hear something loud and wooden behind him shatter, but it seemed to belong to some sort of dream.

 

The last thing he felt before blacking out were two strong arms grabbing his waist and pulling him back.

 

SKIP!

 

Bakura walked into the house he shared with Ryou, a scowl plastered across his face- one even darker than usual.

 

'Those bastards.' he growled mentally, taking off his jacket and throwing it somewhere on the floor before kicking his shoes off. Ryou would pick it up later.

 

He walked into the kitchen from the small entranceway, going directly to the fridge. Had he stuck with Mariku and Malik- or 'those bastards'- he knew he could have gotten something alcoholic, but he didn't want to even look at those two psychos for a while.

 

'Just because Mariku decided it was okay to fuck his hikari doesn't mean all yamis want that.' he told himself, shoving the door of the fridge closed in disgust when he couldn't find anything decent to drink. 'Yadonushi means nothing to me. Nothing! It's not their place to say otherwise.'

 

Mariku and Malik had been together for a month now, and were more than happy to let anyone and his brother know it. The Pharaoh had even gotten together with his brat- the only one that hadn't become romantically involved with his light was Bakura.

 

Not that he wanted to.

 

'How dare they even SUGGEST I feel anything but contempt for him! He's a pathetic weakling, barely good enough to be my slave. Beside that,' Bakura's hand tightened on the fridge handle, the knuckles going white as he glared at his reflection. '- Ryou would never feel anything but hatred for me.'

 

He turned from the fridge, scowl darkening. For a bit more than a month, all of his little outings with the Egyptian duo had ended exactly like this, with the white-haired Thief King coming home angry and frustrated. Jealous as well, but he would prefer to pretend he was not.

 

He also preferred to believe that- just because he imagined himself and his hikari kissing whenever he saw the two psychos swapping spit- he wasn't in love with his light. Just because he would stare at the moon for ages on end every night before going to sleep- it reminded him of Ryou's silky hair- didn't mean he felt anything for his hikari. It wasn't as if he protected his hikari because of any feelings for the delicate white-haired teen, despite the fact he no longer needed Ryou alive to live himself.

 

He folded his arms across his chest, intending to stomp up to his room. As he passed the table, he paused.

 

A small note was there, with 'Bakura' written across the front in Ryou's neat handwriting. Bakura's black look darkened, snatching the note from the table and opening it up.

 

'He's probably not fucking home.' Bakura thought, crimson eyes beginning a bored scan of the note.

 

''Bakura-'' it read- as if he didn't already know it was addressed to him.

 

''First off, I would like to say I'm sorry. I know you don't like me, and that the fact I'm your hikari and such a weakling angers you.''

 

Confused, the yami's glare faded from his face as he continued to read, an uneasy feeling growing in the back of his mind.

 

''I wanted to remember to apologize, but I can't apologize to your face. I know you probably wouldn't, since I'm not very important to anyone, but I didn't want you asking why I'm apologizing for this now. I was afraid I would answer you.''

 

Something wet had smudged the paper slightly here, but the words were still easy to read.

 

''I've never been very good at lying, have I? I didn't want you to know, even though I knew it would be you who would find me.''

 

Dread and confusion both multiplied, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. This sounded a lot like- but no, Ryou was happy, wasn't he? He wouldn't, he would never...

 

''I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry for being so weak. I'm sorry for being a burden. I'm sorry for borrowing one of your knives. I also want to beg you not to hate me, but I can't stay here any longer.''

 

Eyes wide, a trance seemed to come over him and he kept reading, the word 'knife' reverberating through his skull.

 

''I also want to apologize for what I'm about to say.''

 

Bakura clenched his free hand tightly, the sharp crescents of his nails digging into his soft palm.

 

''I love you. I always have. I just wanted to let you know that- I've always wanted to tell you, but I was so worried you'd laugh at my feelings or hate me more for them.''

 

Tearstains dotted the paper, but the writing was clear. Shock ran through his body, lips parting slightly as Bakura's mind tried to come up with a response to the words written before him.

 

''I know you don't feel the same, and I know I would never be able to tell you face to face. I couldn't die without telling you though. Please also- if you feel any guilt- it was never your fault. Not entirely. It was me and me alone- it's my fault for everything.''

 

Cold certainty of what this note meant shot through him, but still he could not stop reading. Only two things stayed in his head.

 

'My hikari loves me.' was one.

 

'He's going to kill himself.' was the other.

 

''I love you- I wish I could have said it to your face just once. Sayonara, Bakura.''

 

Bakura's numb fingers dropped the note, his light's signature staring innocently up at him.

 

His body was frozen as his mind tried to process what he had just read, denial instantly springing into being.

 

There was just no way Ryou-

 

He had no reason to-

 

Distantly, he heard water turn on somewhere above him.

 

''I'm sorry for borrowing one of your knives.''

 

Ryou's words rang through his mind.

 

''...I can't stay here any longer.''

 

He turned, body springing into action even though he felt as if he moved in slow motion.

 

''...it was never your fault.''

 

'Of course it's my fault- how the hell did I not notice?! I'm supposed to protect you! How did I let this happen?!'

 

His stocking feet slid across the wooden floor, but he ignored the small slips. He ran up the stairs, crimson eyes narrowed determinedly even as dread bloomed anew in his heart as he heard the water turn off.

 

''I love you- I wish I could have said it to your face just once.''

 

"Damnit!" he swore to himself, turning the corner at the top of the stairs to move down the hallway. The door was just feet from him as he stumbled and almost fell reaching for it.

 

Not bothering with the handle- the door was probably locked- he threw himself at it. It cracked, breaking off the flimsy hinges as soon as he hit it a second time.

 

''Sayonara, Bakura.''

 

The door hit the wall with a loud 'crack', Bakura barely noting the sound as he leapt forward. He grabbed his hikari around the waist, pulling Ryou back against his body.

 

Something akin to fear pumped through his blood at just how pale his hikari was, and just how red the water was in the bathtub. The white-haired teen's head lolled back, blood sluggishly moving out of his cuts. He still breathed, and his heart still beat, but that wouldn't last very much longer.

 

"No- don't you dare." Bakura mumbled, mostly to himself as he placed Ryou's body on the floor, quickly ripping strips of cloth from his shirt and bandaging his hikari's wrists.

 

There is no way that his amateur skills were enough. He had treated his own wounds enough times back in Egypt, but he had never lost so much blood.

 

From there, his memory became a blur.

 

He picked his hikari up again, fleeing the bathroom.

 

He knew Ryou had often used a 'fone' or something and that there was some sort of emergency number, but he didn't know how to operate that idiotic piece of modern technology. Domino Hospital wasn't far- only a few blocks.

 

He passed by his shoes and coat, knowing it was a race against time with the odds highly against him. He quickly opened the door, bursting through it and not bothering to close it as he ran as if Anubis were directly behind him.

 

Nothing existed for him beyond the boy in his arms- not even the pain as his feet slapped the pavement, his socks doing little to dull the sharp sting. He could feel something warm and wet soaking through his shirt- the bandages weren't holding very well, and he didn't even need to look down to know his blue and white striped shirt was being stained the same crimson color of his eyes.

 

His felt his breath heave in and out of his chest as his lungs and legs screamed at him, but did not let his pace slacken. He could hear the angry honking of horns as he ran into the street, as well as the scream of brakes as people tried to avoid hitting him.

 

It was only three minutes later when he reached Domino Hospital, painfully aware that every second was vital with Ryou so fragile. He burst through the doors, breath heavy as he panted, arms and legs tired from running with so much extra weight.

 

A female nurse came up to him quickly, blue eyes widening as she caught sight of Ryou.

 

"I need you to help him now. He's lost a lot of blood." he ordered. "Go get a damn doctor!"

 

The nurse didn't seem to care about his attitude, yelling something over her shoulder and grabbing Bakura's arm to pull him quickly towards a hallway. He followed without complaint, even though her grip hurt.

 

A long white bed on a cart with wheels at the bottom came towards them, two large male nurses pushing it. One of them left the cart, taking Ryou from Bakura's arms and laying him on the bed. The three nurses headed down the hallway again, but when Bakura tried to follow, he was refused. He could recall answering a few questions about who Ryou was and what had happened, but the memories were fuzzy, vague and unimportant.

 

From there, his memory faded, the last sight he could recall the view of his hikari and the three hospital workers disappearing behind a large set of swinging double doors.

 

TBC…

 

And that's the end of Chapter 1! There are two more to come- please stay tuned! Feedback appreciated!