Forgive Me

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warning: Violence, attempted rape, character death.
Author’s Note: This was written for a friend’s Christmas gift.

Forgive Me

Bakura slammed the screen door as he stormed out of the house and stomped down the stairs into the night. He hadn’t meant to hit Ryou, but his hikari just drove him crazy sometimes, and he couldn’t help it. The hurt look on Ryou’s face after he backhanded him kept invading his mind, and Bakura shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and trudged down the dimly lit streets.

It was Ryou’s fault he tried rationalizing to himself. The hikari knew what made him angry, but he still did those things anyway, so what did he expect? Bakura sighed loudly. Wasn’t it his job as yami to protect Ryou? The only person Ryou really needed protecting from was him. He didn’t want to hurt his sweet hikari, but it just happened.

It never really mattered though because Ryou always forgave him, no matter what he had done to the poor boy. It infuriated him sometimes that Ryou was so willing to forgive him after Bakura had beaten him or cut him. The stupid hikari didn’t know what was good for him. And every time it happened, Bakura would leave and a little part of him wondered if this was it. If this was the time Ryou wouldn’t forgive him, and he would be cast out and alone again. But it never was.

Bakura wandered around for a while, and finally ducked into a seedy looking bar when it began to rain. He took a seat near the end of the bar and took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up, waiting for the bartender to make his way over. He inhaled the smoke from his cigarette and looked around the bar. Everyone was sitting by themselves, shoulders hunched against the world, just like him. Not a very friendly place, but Bakura didn’t care; he wasn’t here to make friends. The bartender came over and Bakura ordered a beer which he quickly finished and moved on to drinks with higher alcohol content.

Before he knew it, Bakura was drunk off his ass. He stumbled out of the bar and was very disappointed to see that not only was it still raining, but it was raining harder than before. He walked home in the pouring rain, quickly becoming soaked. This was all Ryou’s fault. If he would just pay attention and not make Bakura angry, then he wouldn’t have to hit him, and if he didn’t hit him, he wouldn’t have to go off alone in the middle of the night and get drunk in the rain.

Bakura stomped back home, figuring he’d been gone long enough for Ryou to get over whatever he’d done to him this time. He was thoroughly wet and the longer he walked the fouler a mood he was in. Why couldn’t he have a normal hikari? Marik’s was a bit crazy, but at least he was cool. And the pharaoh’s little pipsqueak was annoying as hell, but he didn’t cower and cry all the time. What was Ryou really good for anyway? Not much. He kept the apartment in right enough shape, but Bakura didn’t really need him for that. Hell, Ryou wasn’t really much good for anything.

Bakura mused about this until he reached his front door, which he kicked open, startling Ryou who was watching television. Bakura shot him a withering look as he went upstairs and Ryou cowered into the sofa. He slammed his door behind him, kicking off his shoes and peeling off his wet clothes. He was shivering cold and decided to take a hot shower to soothe his nerves.

When he got out of the shower, feeling much better and noticed Ryou had come in and taken his wet clothes to the dryer and brought a hot cup of tea and left it on his bed side table. Bakura felt slightly guilty for his earlier thoughts towards his hikari but quickly dismissed them. He pulled on dry clothes and towel dried his hair, making it fluffy. He sipped at the tea Ryou had left him and wandered downstairs, finding his hikari folding the laundry. He snuck up behind him and wrapped his arms around Ryou’s waist, pulling him against him and nuzzling his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he muttered, releasing Ryou.

Ryou turned and smiled at him. “It’s okay, yami. I’m sorry I made you angry.”

Bakura patted him on the head. “Just don’t piss me off, okay?”

Ryou nodded and bounded into the kitchen to finish making diner. Bakura watched him go.

XxXxXxXxXxX

After dinner, Ryou retreated to his room to do homework and Bakura wondered around the house, trying to find something to entertain himself. He called Marik, but from the moaning in the background, he could tell he was busy with his hikari. There wasn’t much else to do, but he found some beer in the fridge and flopped in front of the television, flipping through the adult channels until he was left bored, horny, and drunk. Again.

Bakura stared blurrily at the digital numbers on the VCR. They told him it was one o’clock in the morning. Too early to go to bed, but too late to go out. Bakura had a passing thought of Marik, angry that he was too busy fucking his hikari to go out with him. Hmph, even Malik was good for something.

Bakura wondered upstairs, tripping over the last couple steps and falling noisily into a table. Ryou popped his head out of his room, rubbing his eyes.

Are you alright yami?” he asked.

Bakura was about to wave him off when he actually looked at Ryou. The boy was dressed in boxers and one of Bakura’s old shirts that was much too big for him and hung off of one pale shoulder.

Bakura grinned deviously at him, his alcohol soaked brain formulating a plan to banish his boredom and horniness in one go. “No,” he replied, “but I soon will be.”

Ryou tilted his head, slightly confused. “Are you drunk, yami?”

“A bit,” Bakura said with a laugh as he stumbled towards Ryou, who caught him before he tumbled over. Ryou just shook his head and helped Bakura into his room, letting him collapse on his bed. Ryou was about to go fetch some water for him, when arms encircled his waist and pulled him backwards onto Bakura’s lap. Bakura nuzzled his face in Ryou’s shoulder, causing the boy to giggle.

“Bakura! Let me get you some water,” Ryou exclaimed, but the yami refused to let him go, pulling him closer and kissing his neck. Ryou tensed and tried to push him off.

“Yami? Bakura what are you doing?” he asked and then yelped as Bakura tossed him on the bed and quickly straddled him.

“I want to fuck,” Bakura whispered, resuming his kissing of Ryou’s neck, sneaking his hands underneath Ryou’s shirt and raking his nails across the pale boy’s chest.

“No,” Ryou whimpered, “Bakura, please don’t.”

Bakura ignored him and continued to suck on his neck, pinching a nipple a little too harshly. Ryou whimpered beneath him, trying to dislodge his yami. His actions intensified as he felt Bakura fingering the waistband of his boxers before slipping inside.

“Bakura!” Ryou said, beginning to panic. “Bakura, don’t! Stop, I don’t want to!”

Bakura lifted his head and snarled at his hikari. “Shut up you little bitch and let me do this!”

Ryou stilled and flinched, waiting for Bakura to his him. The smack never came, instead Ryou’s shirt was pushed up to his shoulders and his boxers were rudely torn down, exposing him to Bakura.

Ryou cried out and tried to struggle again. This time Bakura did hit him, soundly across the face. Ryou immediately stopped struggling and lay there sobbing, rubbing his cheek where Bakura had hit him.

“Stop whining you worthless little bitch,” Bakura hissed as he fisted the boy beneath him. “It’s time you were good for something.”

Ryou whimpered, but said nothing, feeling himself growing hard despite his terror. Tears were streaming silently down his cheeks, but Bakura wasn’t paying any attention. He was sucking on his fingers and harshly yanking Ryou’s legs apart.

When Ryou felt Bakura probing at his entrance, he couldn’t stay quiet anymore. He loved Bakura, he did. And he forgave him when he hit him sometimes because he loved him. But Bakura had never done anything like this before and he didn’t think he could forgive him for raping him.

“Stop! Yami stop!” Ryou cried, renewing his struggle and managing to squirm away from Bakura. “Bakura please! Don’t do this! Don’t rape me!” he cried as he huddled at the corner of the bed. “Please, don’t rape me!”

Bakura was about to smack some sense into Ryou when he stopped at the boy’s words, realizing through his drunken haze what he had been about to do.

He sat there for a minute, staring at Ryou, unsure of what to say.

“Ryou, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking,” he said tentatively, reaching out to push a wisp of hair out of the hikari’s face.

“Don’t touch me,” Ryou said in a strangled voice, tears streaming down his face.

“Ryou,” Bakura said, almost pleadingly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Ryou said, not looking at him. “Just get out.”

Bakura blinked. “What?”

“Get out,” Ryou whispered. “I don’t want to see you anymore.”

Bakura stared at him for a long time, realizing that this was that one time when Ryou wasn’t going to forgive him, but not quite coming to terms with it.

“Please, yami, just leave,” the boy whispered. Bakura nodded, dazed, and walked out of his room, out of the house, as far away from it as he could get.

The rain had stopped, leaving the streets wet and glistening in the security lights but Bakura didn’t notice. He walked clear across town, running over in his mind again and again what he had done, what he had almost done and trying to rationalize to himself how he could even think of doing it. He was supposed to protect Ryou. He was his yami, he was supposed to protect him. Bakura shook his head and continued to walk.

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t ever go home. He couldn’t allow anything like that to ever happen to Ryou again. He had thought he’d been protecting Ryou from the bullies at school and the hardships of the world, but he’d only spawned worse abuses himself.

Ryou wasn’t going to forgive him this time. He wouldn’t go back and find him curled up on the couch anymore. He wouldn’t come home drunk and wet anymore to Ryou eager to clean him up and make him better. He had really fucked up this time. He had to make sure Ryou was safe. He had to make sure he would always be safe. He had to be a real yami and protect his hikari.

Bakura soon found himself in the richer part of town. Expensive stores lined both sides of the streets, and Bakura inspected each, finally deciding on a particularly lavish diamond store. He looked around on the sidewalks for something heavy, and finally found a loose brick in a nearby alleyway that he jimmied out of the wall.

He stood in front of the store’s display window and hefted the brick in his hand a couple of times, then threw it with all his might through the window. The display window shattered, setting off a screeching alarm. Bakura ignored the noise and hopped through the window and started rooting through the display cases. He heard the tell-tale sirens of police cars off in the distance and retreated further into the shadowy depths of the store. He tossed diamond necklaces around as he idly fingered the knife in his pocket.

Head lights glared at him as the police cars swung around the corner and parked in front of the building. Bakura heard a lot of shouting and three officers entered the store through the broken window, guns and flashlights out and pointing. The moment a flashlight beam struck Bakura, the yami pulled out his knife and launched himself at the police officer with a roar.

Just as he hoped, the startled officer’s gun went off, nearly point blank in his stomach. Bakura staggered backwards and collapsed to his knees, hand over the wound. He stared dazedly at the blood leaking through his fingers and felt his vision going fuzzy. A sad but satisfied smile crossed his lips as the world faded.

Please forgive me Ryou, Bakura thought as he died. I’ve finally protected you like I was supposed to.