Dark Roads

Disclaimer – No, I don’t own them. I’m merely throwing them into the circumstances of my fucked up life and making them swim through it as a way to deal with it myself.

Author’s Notes – Well, I do suppose it’s time for review responses : ) So here goes

First off to Ladywolf_Terri, Lady Laran, Silvershadowfire, Lady Grey, and the Shy one – Huge thanks go out to all of you. You guys have been there for me, putting up with my ranting, letting me cry on your shoulders, and shared more of yourselves with me than anyone has a right to expect from people they’ve only met over the internet. I just want all of you to know how much I appreciate everything, and how much you all mean to me. Thank you, from the very depths of my soul.

xSakurax – I’m so glad you like it so far. I hope you continue to enjoy.

Angel Kawaii – Yeah, Yami/Bakura are my favorite pairing too atm. I hope you continue to like the story.

Silver thorns – Here for the lemons, eh? (grins) Well, there’s going to be plenty of those. As for why people always take the harder road in life . . . human nature I guess. This chapter should make you feel better : )

Chaos Dragon - You will eventually learn where Yami learned his moves. As for me being an idol . . . (snickers) naw. You have so much talent that you shouldn’t be worshipping anyone. Yeah, the hubby did that to me . . . but he’ll get what’s coming to him eventually. Glad you’re still liking the story.

Ralphiere – the fact that you are reading this and liking it is a HUGE compliment to me, you realize. Sounds like you like Seto almost as much as I do . . . gee, is it any wonder I chose him for that particular part? I hope you continue enjoying the fic : )

Kit-kit – hehe, trust me, there will be more of Marik down the road. He has an integral part to play. As for Yami and Bakura, well, you can already see where that’s going. They just have to pull their heads out of their asses. And Seto will get what’s coming to him. This chapter should be right up your alley : )

Aspiker – Who will spill more blood? Cripes, I don’t know. We’ll have to find out.

Zehlyah – Why, thank you! That’s a huge compliment! That reminds me, I do have to send you those skins, don’t I? (grumbles and makes a mental note) And I swear, you make me blush more often with your praise than I know what to do with!

Lell – revered? Oy, gods, don’t do that! I’m nothing special.

Ihstarl_Fox – It isn’t planned, but we shall see. I’m not sure where it will head with that yet.
Rubicant – I watch way too many action movies. That’s how my fights come out . . . I try to picture them in my head and then write them from there. (shrugs) it works, I guess. I’m glad you liked it.


Nancy – It is going to get slightly fluffy and emotional, but trust me, the darker elements will remain. I hope that doesn’t ruin it for you.

And with that said – on to the major fluffy chapter. I apologize in advance . . . I was in one odd mood when I wrote this chapter.

Chapter 8 – A Shoulder To Cry On


Bakura stalked into the house quietly early the following morning. It hadn’t been what he would have termed an easy night . . . his sleep, when it came, had been plagued by images of Atemu, and he was now thoroughly irritable. What he wanted was a full night of rest, and an easy way to clear up the clouded issues in his head.

The last thing he really wanted was to be confronted by the very man causing such annoyances.

“Bakura,” a soft tenor called out as he passed through the living room. The pale man froze, pivoting slowly on one foot to meet the crimson gaze that rested on him from the seat of the living room’s bay window. “Can we talk?”

“About what?” he asked, his voice nearly a low growl as he stood there with his hands shoved into his pockets. “You certainly didn’t want to talk last night.” He tried to suppress the flash of resentment that went through him. It wasn’t Atemu’s fault that he couldn’t get the man out of his head. Or maybe it was.

“I know,” Atemu answered quietly. The tone of voice registered, and Bakura looked him over carefully as he lounged there in the shadows, one leg draped carelessly off the seat as his arms lay wrapped around the other’s drawn up knee. If he had to put a one-word description to the tri-haired man at that moment, it would have been . . . haggard. It appeared he wasn’t the only one that’d had a rough night. Dare he hope someone else was suffering beside him in this whole mess? “I apologize for snapping at you like that. I’m … confused right now, and I’m not handling it well, as you said. You were only telling the truth.” He sighed, and the crimson eyes closed as he leaned his head back against the wall with a slight thump.

Bakura finally found it within him to move, gliding across the floor to sink into a chair near Atemu’s current perch. Why he wasn’t simply walking away after the apology was beyond him . . . this sort of emotional thing was not something he usually dealt with well, and it looked like this was going to be one hell of an outpouring. But at the same time, he wanted to be here. Just another thing to add to his list of confusing reactions where this man was concerned. That list was growing a bit longer than he was comfortable with.

“Seto . . . we got intimate again on Sunday,” Atemu murmured finally, and magenta eyes widened for a moment in surprise. “I didn’t give in to him fully . . . but I gave in enough. I let him manipulate me into a corner . . . right where he wanted me.”

“What happened, exactly?” came the question he’d been expecting. He sighed, shifting uneasily in his seat. He didn’t want to admit to this . . . it felt like he’d failed himself, but carrying it inside wasn’t working either. He had to talk to someone.

“I sucked him off,” he whispered, disgust echoing through the words.

“Why?” Bakura asked, surprising himself. What the fuck did he care? Atemu chuckled slightly, but it wasn’t in amusement. Rather, there was a healthy dose of self-hatred and derision in the laugh, and it made the pale man shiver to hear it. “Word was he has a boyfriend in America already.”

“He did,” came the soft reply. “But they broke up. Apparently he wasn’t spending enough time working on the relationship.” That chuckle came again, softer this time. “So when he came back to Domino to visit Mokuba for the weekend, he figured he could kill two birds with one stone and get some action from me while he was here. And I, like the fool I am, walked right into it.” The man shifted restlessly against the backdrop of the slowly lightening sky that could be seen through the window, trying to find the words to put his thoughts into.

“He used me,” he continued finally. “He used me, and I let him. Because I thought I was proving something . . . I thought that I was proving that I didn’t care enough anymore for it to hurt me. But it didn’t work. Instead, I found out that I do still care, and it disgusts me. How can I care for someone who doesn’t respect me or appreciate me . . . who never did? I should value myself more than that.” He fell silent after those words, struggling within himself to find the answers he was seeking . . . the reason he had for going on the way he was.

It was good that Atemu didn’t seem to be expecting him to say anything, because Bakura couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to. He was struggling mentally … both with the ache in his chest that Atemu’s words had once again spawned, and the physical need to rip Seto Kaiba to shreds. People called him a heartless bastard. By his judgment, he was nowhere near the same league of heartless as the young CEO. At least the people he hurt meant nothing to him, and knew it right from the start.

How could any person do that to someone they’d loved? Had Seto ever loved Atemu? He had to wonder, considering the circumstances. How did you break off an engagement, replace your fiancé in less than a week, and then come back to that same ex-fiancé for sex? You had to have absolutely no conscience or heart! It angered him . . . and sparked a fierce jealousy that stunned him.

This was getting bad . . . very bad. It wasn’t possible that he was becoming . . . emotionally attached to someone other than his brother, was it? God, he hoped not. It wasn’t something he could afford to do. He wasn’t relationship material . . . he knew that from too much experience in his life so far. But this was beginning to show some rather disturbing tendencies toward exactly that outcome, and if he was going to be honest with himself, it scared him.

He didn’t want a relationship, and he wasn’t looking for one. He was happy just having fuck buddies . . . wasn’t he? The memory of his comparison between Marik and Atemu loomed in his mind, and he shuddered. Was he really as happy as he thought he was? Or was he deceiving himself?

The sound of a choked sob drew his attention, and he was startled to find the glitter of tears sliding down the aquiline features as crimson eyes stared up at the ceiling, the ruby depths swimming with agony. An agony Bakura was all too familiar with.

“Why can’t I stop caring about him when I know he doesn’t care about me? That maybe, he never did?” Atemu whispered, his voice roiling with quiet pain and desperation. His shoulders shuddered slightly as he drew his other leg up, hugging them to his chest defensively. “Why can’t I just move on?”

Bakura was moving before he’d even formed a full thought in response, that pain calling to him in a way that nothing had in far too long. He settled onto the padded window seat silently, grabbing Atemu’s arms and tugging the man into a firm, comforting embrace. There was a moment of resistance before the lean figure came to rest against him, the tri-haired head coming to rest wearily on his shoulder. Pale arms wrapped tightly around the shivering frame, pulling it closer until the warm lines of their bodies were pressed closely together.

“The heart is a strange thing, Atemu,” he murmured, surprising himself as his soul seemed to simply open up in answer to the agony he sensed pouring off the man in his arms in waves. “It will close itself off, or open itself up . . . but it always seems that once a person is inside, it gets harder and harder to kick them back out. It just takes time.” He leaned back, gazing down into those crimson depths to make sure his words were heard . . . and then did something that surprised them both.

He kissed Atemu. Not hungrily, or passionately . . . carefully, as if the man were fine porcelain that would break at the lightest pressure. The slightest press of lips, gentle movements as if he would startle the man . . . it wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like anything he’d done before either, and he could sense Atemu’s surprise matching his own before the slight man melted into him, opening his mouth in invitation.

Bakura delved into that warm cavern delicately, his tongue flicking over the pearl teeth lightly before caressing the other’s wet muscle, which responded hesitantly. Coaxing it to twine with his own, he sighed as light fingers trailed over his shoulders to tangle gently in his silver-white locks, even as his own pale fingers buried themselves in crimson and black silk strands.

This time he could take the moment to savor the taste and feel of the other against him, without the desperate hunger their kisses had been fueled by before. The taste of cinnamon, mixed with the sweetness of chocolate flooded his senses, nearly overwhelming him as their tongues danced against each other playfully. It was a slow, erotic tantalization, a teasing fire that didn’t consume, but enhanced.

He felt warmth flooding through him. Not the warmth of passion, or of hunger . . . but the warmth of comfort, of security . . . of coming home. It startled him . . . had he ever felt like this before with someone? He couldn’t think of a time, but before he could delve into it further, it ended, both of them pulling back to breathe. He gazed at Atemu through half-lidded eyes, breath whispering through still parted lips, admiring the flushed looked of the tanned skin, the light blush that dusted the arches of the high cheek bones. So absolutely beautiful . . . He brushed the pad of his thumb delicately across that silken skin, rubbing away the traces of the crystalline tears as crimson eyes slowly opened to gaze up at him. The fire that smoldered deep within them was breathtaking, making them glow from the depths that swirled in the ruby orbs. What the hell was this?

He was unconsciously leaning in for another kiss when they were interrupted. He nearly snarled in annoyance before the voice registered and he smoothed his features into something akin to his normal mask, releasing Atemu as he turned to look at his brother.

“You’re up early, Ryou,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. The pale boy flushed, shuffling his feet absently as he wilted slightly under that magenta gaze.

“I couldn’t sleep,” the youth whispered. “I . . . dreamed of Mother.”

If Atemu hadn’t been watching carefully, he might have missed the sudden flicker of pain that went through those magenta eyes before Bakura arose and padded silently across the floor to his brother, leaving Atemu feeling suddenly lost and adrift in confusion and wonder.

He’d already learned, through watching the two youths when they didn’t realize it, that their relationship was very different from what he’d thought it was. In public, Bakura treated Ryou like shit . . . but in the privacy of each other’s presence, the pale man opened up with surprising warmth toward his younger sibling, warmth that had startled Atemu. Warmth that he’d just had been the surprising recipient of himself.

Watching as Bakura wrapped an arm around the slim, shaking shoulders before leaning down to talk to the young man softly, he absently raised a hand to his lips. A lingering sensation flickered through him . . . a comforting feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. A feeling of being cherished . . . of being loved. When had he last felt like this with Seto?

He slid from his seat silently, not wanting to disturb the two brothers as his thoughts tumbled against each other haphazardly. It couldn’t be that Bakura was falling in love with him – that was impossible. Was he . . . could he possibly be falling in love with Bakura? He slipped from the room, nearly running as his mind wrapped around that thought and refused to let go. It was hopeless. It just couldn’t be . . . he couldn’t possibly be harboring growing feelings toward the pale man!

It was just a reaction to the surprising warmth the other had shown him. That was it . . . that was all it could be. His loneliness and pain were reaching out to the first person not related to him, trying to fill the hole Seto had left in his heart and soul with his betrayal. That had to be it.

His room was suddenly a haven, and he closed the door behind him, locking it before throwing himself onto his bed . . . and wondering what new unwelcome surprises lay in store for him.


*-------*-------*-------*-------*


“I dreamed she was still with us, Bakura,” Ryou murmured, snuggling closer into his brother’s embrace as he recalled his dream. “She was worried about us . . . you more than me, I think. She murmured something about letting go and opening up again . . . then she was gone.”

Bakura sighed, nuzzling into the younger man’s ivory white hair as he hugged the light frame to him. He had no doubt that it had been simply a dream . . . but Ryou was far too sensitive and intelligent sometimes for his own good.

If there was one thing that he knew bothered his brother, it was his lack of relationships since their mother had died. While Ryou had cried, and done his mourning, he had simply closed himself off from the world. They had been very close to the gentle, loving woman who had given them life . . . losing her had been like losing a vital limb, especially to the isolated older boy.

Her death had prompted Bakura to make a vow to never allow anyone else into his heart, a vow that he had kept until . . . He shoved that thought away, not wanting to dwell on his only failed romantic relationship.

“It was just a dream, Ryou,” he said softly. “Mother is in heaven, safe and happy with the rest of the family that have moved on.”

“But . . . Bakura, I know she still cares about us, and watches us. What if it wasn’t just a dream?” Bakura sighed, shifting his hands to the smaller man’s shoulders so that he could look deep into the chocolate eyes.

“Ryou, you need to stop worrying about me. I’m fine the way I am . . . I’m happy this way. I don’t need anyone other than you in my life.” He was surprised when those usually soft eyes hardened.

“You’re lying,” Ryou said firmly. “No one can be fine and happy closed off emotionally from the world, ‘Kura. And I think you have a chance at the happiness you’ve been denying yourself . . . if you would just open your eyes and your heart and see it.” He stepped away from his older brother, looking back over his shoulder as he turned away. “I’m not the only person that worries about you, Bakura. It’s time you started living again, and stopped just existing.”

Clenching his hands into fists, Bakura watched his younger brother walk slowly out of the room. The brat saw far too much. How had Ryou done it again? He’d just put into words every single doubt and confusing thought that had run through his older brother’s head in the last week . . .ever since meeting up with Atemu.

Thinking of the tri-haired man brought to mind what they’d been interrupted in the middle of, and he turned around . . . only to find the window seat empty. Apparently Atemu had left at some point during his conversation with his brother.

Bakura wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. One thing was for sure . . . he needed to think. Too much had happened in that one kiss for him to be comfortable with ignoring it anymore. There was something going on . . . and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or the other.

AN - Review Onegai?