Always Alone

Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Pairings: Yami x Bakura
Warning: Yaoi
Author’s Note: I’ve been in a Yami x Bakura angst mood and I’ve kind of missed writing oneshots.

Always Alone

I stared out the window, watching as the clouds darken on the horizon and thunder sounds in the distance, making Ryou’s old house vibrate quietly. Dusk has fallen and I didn’t even notice when the house turned dark. Now the only light is the soft circle cast by the street light outside which falls just short of the window.

Ryou always scolded me, in that soft voice of his, for sitting like this in the darkness and not turning on any of the lights. But he doesn’t understand that I don’t really mind the darkness. I’ve lived in it for most of my life and it was a comfort as much as it was a reminder of my loneliness.

Loneliness. Who knew that having one’s own body could make feelings all that more adamant? That the presence of flesh could make the emptiness you felt as a wandering soul into a physical ache?

It was something I had felt when I was the spirit of the Ring. That cold sentiment of emptiness that filled me. Even when I had been alive, it was a familiar emotion. But so much time in the Ring made me forget that emotions can be manifested physically.

Like the deep ache that was now ever present in my heart. The one that grew nearly unbearable when I watched Ryou, smiling and happy, with his friends. I have a physical form now. I am in a world full of people. I didn’t have to be alone. But yet, I still find myself in an empty house, staring out at a world that I still can’t feel a part of. Something so very different from the blazing deserts of my homeland and the solitary darkness of the Ring.

Thunder rumbles again, closer this time, but it isn’t raining yet.

Ryou was with his friends. With Yugi. I should get him before it starts to rain. Before I lose myself again in my lonely thoughts. Sometimes I forget that I am alive. I forget that I’m not in the Ring anymore, and that I can escape my loneliness. If only I knew how.

I don’t bother with a jacket because the cold air against my bare skin always gives me that exhilarating feeling of being truly alive. It used to be the heat of the sun burning against my back, but the sun doesn’t shine like that in Domino.

I unchain my motorcycle that leans against the side of the house. It’s the only thing I’ve bought since I’ve been alive. Well, I stole it, but it’s all the same. Just like in Egypt, all I needed was my horse, my ticket to freedom. I stole, but I never kept any of the things I took. There was no need for them. All I needed was something that was fast and would carry me away from my troubles and my fears. That’s why I like the motorcycle. There is no protection from the air or the weather when you ride it. You are out there in it, a part of it, feeling it through your hair and tugging at your clothes as you tear down the road. It allows you to be alive and remove yourself from life at the same time.

As I speed down the darkened streets of Domino towards the store where Yugi lives, where the Pharaoh lives, the dark clouds finally gave in and the rain begins to fall. Lightly at first, and then heavier. Big fat cold drops soaking me to the skin, but I don’t really mind.

I only hope I wouldn’t have to see the Pharaoh. Whenever I was around him, that ache, that emptiness, increased. It squeezed my heart and made it hard to breathe. I don’t know if it was because he had managed what I couldn’t or if he knew how I felt or if maybe I thought he could take the pain away. I guess it didn’t really matter.

Did the Pharaoh feel loneliness? He knew what it was like, to be locked away in the darkness for an eternity. Perhaps he would understand these feelings that plague me. Perhaps he could stop them. But I never have the courage to ask him.

He doesn’t like me. Or rather, he disapproves of me. I don’t think he has ever forgiven me for robbing his father’s tomb. But I suppose I have never forgiven him for so many things either.

But he was a spirit too, trapped in the same way I was. Alone in the dark for thousands of years. But somehow, he has managed to become alive in a way I can’t seem to grasp. He lives, like his hikari and mine do, not simply existing. He has friends and relationships with people. He makes contact. I’ve seen it, but I can’t understand it. Is there something wrong with me? Even in Egypt, I was alone and he was not. He had his priests and his servants and his entire kingdom. Surrounded by people, just like he is now while I stand in the dark by myself.

Ryou is the only person I could consider my friend. He is the closest person to me, yet what we have feels...incomplete. He is there with me and sometimes we share our thoughts, but there is always a distance, a separation, and I am sure it is because of me. Maybe I just don’t know how to not be alone.

The rain is getting thicker now, making it hard to see. My hair is wet against my back and keeps getting in my eyes. If I crashed, would I die again? Would I go back to the Ring, or would I go somewhere different? If I wasn’t so afraid of the answer, I might be tempted to find out.

But I don’t. I arrive at the game shop where Yami and Yugi live, and I brake my motorcycle, leaning it against the building and securing the lock on it. I stand in front of the door for a moment, wondering whether this really was a good idea. What if Ryou doesn’t want me to come get him? What if he would rather stay in a warm house with his friends than return to a dark and cold one with me?

Icy raindrops are dripping down my back and my clothes are sticking to me uncomfortably, making me shiver. I decide to knock.

When I do, I am only a little surprised to see Yami answer the door. He seems more surprised to see me. He recovers quickly though, never really losing his calm composure. He moves aside to let me walk in, and I stand there soaking wet in his entryway.

My hair is dripping down my back and my shirt is sticking to my skin. I suddenly realize how absolutely foolish I must look, standing like a drowned cat in the Pharaoh’s warm cozy house.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in that even, measured voice of his. Even now his voice holds authority, demands recognition.

“I came to get Ryou,” I say, as if it should be obvious. He looks me up and down and my chest tightens, like it always does when he turns those penetrating eyes in my direction.

“He’s not here,” he replies.

“He isn’t?” I ask. “Where is he?”

“He’s at Tristan’s, with Yugi, Tea, and Jou. They’re spending the night,” he says. “Were you going to take him home in the rain on your motorcycle?”

I blink at him and turn back to look at the door as if to clarify it was indeed raining. I never really thought about that. It wasn’t raining when I decided to come for him. I just didn’t want to be alone in that big house anymore. Even if Ryou would just go off by himself to do what ever it was he usually does, at least he’d be there, and I’d know I wasn’t completely alone.

“I don’t know,” I tell him, feeling stupider by the second. I should have never come here. He doesn’t like me and he doesn’t want me here so why did I come?

Because even a moment in his warm inviting house with him so near is better than what is waiting for me at home.

Yami narrows his eyes at me. “You aren’t mistreating him are you?” he asks in a dangerously quiet voice.

I narrow my eyes at him in return. “What right do you have to ask me that? Are you mistreating your hikari?” I hiss.

“I have never hurt my hikari, and there is no reason I would,” Yami says to me in that quiet knowing voice that made my skin tingle angrily.

“Well, I have never hurt Ryou either,” I tell him. He despises me. I can tell by the way he looks at me. He eyes the puddle I am making on his floor with distaste that remains as his eyes travel up my body.

I was wrong. Whatever solace I thought he could offer me was not to be had. Even if he did know the answers, and if he did know how to fix me, he wouldn’t. I don’t know why I ever expected him to.

“I’ll leave then,” I say, after a long moment of silence where his dislike filled the air, making me uncomfortable and obviously unwelcome.

“You can’t go home in this,” he tells me, the bitterness in his voice suddenly gone. He reaches out and grabs my arm. It was innocent enough, but I froze at the contact. I wasn’t used to being touched. Not even Ryou touched me very often. And no one besides him since I acquired this new body.

“I drove here in it,” I reply reasonably, shaking off his hand and trying to hide my reaction. He looks me over once again, this time in confusion. I was beginning to hate the way he did that. Like I was something for him to inspect and pass judgment on.

“You can stay here until the morning and than take Ryou home,” he states. “Take off your clothes and I’ll get you a towel.”

I watch him as he walks away, more than a little confused by his offer. It doesn’t help that the tightening of my heart isn’t going away. The emptiness is still there too. More foreboding than before, filling every last inch of me. It’s as if his very presence reminds me of how pitiful I really am.

I want him to fix me. I want him to make the emptiness go away and replace it with whatever is supposed to fill you when you are alive.

I pull my shirt over my head and leave it in a wet heap on the floor. I take my shoes off and set them beside them. I had just managed to peel the wet denim of my jeans down when Yami comes back and hands me a big fuzzy towel. I wrap it around myself, instantly feeling warmer.

It smells like him, faintly. Almost like it was his arms wrapped around me, keeping me warm. As I inhale, a tiny little bit of that warm feeling worms its way into the emptiness and makes it just a little bit less.

“You’re dripping on the carpet,” he observes, startling me out of my thoughts. My hair was still soaked and was making a bigger puddle on his clean floor. I tilted my head to the side and wrapped the towel around my hair, squeezing the water from it. When I finish, I realize he is watching me as I stand there in only my wet boxers.

I quickly wrap the towel back around myself, blocking my body from his view. He gives me a curious look which I steadily ignore.

“Come on, I’ll find something for you to wear until your clothes are dry,” he says, beckoning for me to follow him.

I do. We go to his room. I had never been in there before. It was rather plain, but just being there made me feel strange. Almost like he was accepting me. He must, at least enough to let me stay here out of the rain. I wonder about this for a moment, but dismiss it.

There are pictures of him with his friends on the dresser. They are all smiling, filled with that warm feeling. They were practically glowing with it. That happiness that being with another person brings you.

“Why aren’t you with them?” I ask as he rustles through his drawers in search of something for me to wear.

“I didn’t feel like it,” he replies, not turning around.

Not feel like it? How could he deny that feeling of completion, that warmth that radiates from the pictures? Is it possible to have enough of it that you don’t crave it constantly?

“Are you ever lonely?” I ask, surprising myself. I realize immediately I had let to much emotion into my voice because he turns to look at me, his violet eyes studying me as I stand there in a stupid fluffy towel that was slipping off my shoulders. I’m clutching around me like some scared child with a security blanket which must only make me look more pathetic.

“Are you?” he asks, taking a step closer. I must have flinched because he stops before he reaches me, but his penetrating gaze never wavers as I shift uncomfortably beneath it.

When I don’t reply, he takes that last step so he is right in front of me, close enough I can feel the heat of his body. “You don’t have to be. You could make friends instead of sitting in that house by yourself,” he tells me. As if I didn’t already know that.

I looked at the ground, unable to take that look in his eyes any longer. “I don’t know how,” I reply softly.

He reaches out and touches me, his thumb caressing my cheek. I look at him in surprise. No one has ever touched me like that. Not even in Egypt when I had desperately tried to fill that gaping emptiness and failed miserably. His touch fills me with that warm glow, the one I have experienced too few times in my life.

Like when Ryou came home from school crying about something that had happened to him. He clung to me, and I held him until he stopped, telling him things I knew would make him feel better. When he gave me that shy tearstained smile that told me I had made him feel better, it filled my heart with a warm glow and for a moment, I forgot the loneliness and the emptiness and was content with myself. Like now.

But it doesn’t last and the glow vanishes, filled again by that endless dark void. I turn away from him then because I see that look filling his eyes as they roam my body, and I know what he wants. I almost refuse. Almost. But one moment is better than nothing at all, isn’t it?

I turn back, letting the towel slip off my shoulder, and he kisses me, pressing his warm body against my cold one. His heat sends a pleasant tingle through me and his tongue seeks entrance to my mouth, which I readily grant. I pull it into my mouth, sucking on it gently before caressing it with my own, liking the sensation I get from it.

He breaks the kiss and gently pulls the towel from me so he can run his hands up my back, making me shiver pleasantly.

“You’re cold,” he whispers, kissing my neck.

“Make me warm,” I command and he complies. He pulls his shirt over his head, shaking his hair free of it. I sit on the edge of his bed and he leans over me, kissing me again and curling his fingers into my wet hair. He was so warm, his mouth, his hands, his entire body, lighting that spark inside me that casts away the shadows.

He deepens the kiss, forcing me back on the bed. I let him and his mouth travels down my neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses in its wake. He sits up suddenly and unbuckles his pants, sliding them off before straddling me again and kissing me fiercely. I lean into the kiss, wrapping my arms around his shoulders as his mouth tails down my chest, pulling at the fabric of my boxers as they hinder his progress.

I let go of him and lean back, raising my hips so he could pull them off. I expected him to finish where he had left off, but instead, he leans back on his knees and looks down at me, eyes full of pity.

I hate pity. It makes me feel weak.

“Bakura,” he says quietly. I was confused for a moment, and then I understood. He’s feeling guilty. He just wants to fuck me, but he’s the pharaoh. He has morals and he feels like he should owe me something.

“Its fine,” I tell him urgently because he owes me nothing. Just this one little moment of happiness and belonging is enough. That’s all I want from him. He gives me a worried look, but leans over me anyway, taking a nipple between his teeth making me cry out and arch into him. His deliciously warm mouth encircles the hardening nub, grazing it with his teeth. He rubs the other between his fingers, pinching lightly and making me gasp.

When he is done, he trails warm kisses across my collar bone, one of his hands caressing the cool skin of my stomach teasingly.

“Here,” he says, offering me his fingers, which I take into my mouth, sucking them in earnest, swirling my tongue around them and pulling them deeper into my mouth.

He looks very aroused by this, so I continue; showing him just what my mouth was good for. His crimson eyes burn into mine as he reclaims his fingers. He kisses me again softly, keeping that burning eye contact which I meet almost defiantly.

He wants to see my reaction. My weakness. He knows he’s using me, and he can’t believe I am tolerating it, but what he doesn’t understand is that I am using him too.

He lets his wet fingers trail down my skin, no longer cold but burning with desire. A soft hand places itself on the inside of my thigh and gently pushes them apart. I open them wide and throw my head back on the pillow as he slides two fingers in as deep as they will go, moaning quietly as he does so. It’s been ages since I’ve last been fucked, and I must feel as tight as a virgin. Or maybe with this new body, I am.

He moves his fingers inside me and wraps his other hand around my hardened flesh, pumping me maddeningly. My mind is clouded by lust and need and all I can do is thrash on the pillow as he curls his fingers inside of me, hitting the spot that makes me scream and lose control.

I’m panting now, trying to catch my breath after the onslaught of pleasure when he releases me and pulls out his fingers. I whimper pathetically at the loss of contact, but I don’t care. I need him now. I need him to make me feel. If he can’t fix me at least he can give me this.

Instead of thrusting into me as I expected, he leans over me, trailing his fingers across my stomach. I could see he was hard and just as aroused as I was, so why wasn’t he taking me?

He kisses me softly on the lips, sucking on my bottom one and cupping the side of my face with one hand. An electric tingle went through my body, forcing itself through the lusty haze.

“Do you really want this, Bakura?” he asks softly. The haziness was slowly fading away and the cold ache was replacing it again. He didn’t want to. He was going to bring me to the point of painful arousal and then leave me cold and empty.

“Yes,” I gasp, meeting his eyes, begging him not to stop.

“Why?” he asks, infuriatingly calm.

“I need this. I need it,” I reply desperately, trying to pull him back to me, but he pushes my hand away.

“This isn’t what you need.”

There, that single statement. Like he knows what is best for me. He taunts me with his ability to live in this strange world, to make connections with people, to be someone. And now he comes so close to giving me what I need before snatching it away. Why am I so delightful to torture?

“You don’t know what I need,” I snarl at him, shoving him away from me. I knew this was a mistake. I should never have come. I should have turned around when I paused at the door and drove back home to my empty house and sit alone in my misery. It would have been better than coming so close, only to be denied. I get off the bed and search for my underwear, feeling even stupider than I had before.

“You need someone to love you,” he says quietly and it hurts. It hurts because it’s true. He knows it and I know it, but what really makes that stinging pain swirl in my stomach is the fact that it won’t happen. He thinks it is as easy as that, to just tell me what I need and all my problems will be solved, but they won’t.

I long for someone to touch me like he did and to really mean it. To want to be with me and not put up with me like Ryou does. I want someone to need me like I need them. But there is no one. There was no one in Egypt, there was no one in the Ring, and there is no one now.

I find my boxers and pull them on. I realize Yami had done the same when he sits next to me on the bed, trying to be comforting. He looks worried, and I don’t know why. He doesn’t like me. I thought he was doing this to be cruel. To torment me just a little more. But he’s still here, sitting next to me like he cares.

“There is no one to love me,” I say bitterly. Is that what he wants to hear? Does he need the conformation that he is indeed superior to me in every way? That I have failed wretchedly at a second chance to life where he has succeeded so thoroughly?

I can’t look at him. His eyes hold either pity or victory, and I can’t stand to see either.

He touches my face and I realize he’s wiping away my tears. I didn’t even know I was crying. He turns my face towards his, pressing his lips tenderly to mine. I let him. I know I shouldn’t, but it feels too good to tell him to stop.

When he pulls away, I stand up, putting space between us.

“Stop it,” I tell him viciously. “What else do you want from me? You’ve succeeded in defeating me, in two millenniums; you’ve banished me, seduced me, and rejected me. What else could you possibly want from me? Am I just that much fun to torment?”

Yami looks taken aback at my sudden outburst.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, as I give him one last glare and walk out the door. “Bakura!” he calls after me, but I ignore him.

Shit. My clothes are still in a stagnant puddle in the entry way. I don’t know whether I should try to put them on or drive home in my underwear. Before I can make a decision, Yami comes down the stairs and pulls me around to face him.

“I didn’t reject you,” he says quickly, hurt in his eyes. He isn’t allowed to feel hurt over this. He has his friends, and he has a hikari that cares deeply for him and loves him. I have none of that. I have nothing at all but my own solitude and insanity, and he dares to be hurt over this.

I wrench my arm out of his grasp and lean against the wall, closing my eyes.

“I just wanted a moment where I could feel...not feel so alone and you couldn’t even allow me that,” I say. I don’t know why I said it. It just makes me sound even more pathetic. I’m sick of sounding pathetic, especially in front of him.

His arm wraps around my waist and his other hand touches my face in that sweet way he does. His warm body is against me again and my heart is fluttering a little too fast. I let my head rest against his shoulder. He’s seducing me again with his warm body and his soft words. I don’t know why I let myself fall for it, but it feels so promising and comforting that I can’t bring myself to stop.

“I don’t want to give you just a moment,” Yami whispers to me, sending a shiver down my spine. “I want to give you what you need.”

My breathing becomes shallow as his lips find the sensitive skin below my ear, making me feel vulnerable. He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t want me, why would he? He just wants to hurt me again.

“Let me love you,” he breathes, running his fingers across my overheated body.

“Okay,” I reply because I can’t hold out on these feelings any longer. Even if he’s lying and he just wants to hurt me, he’ll give me that moment and at least it’s something.

He presses me against the wall, kissing me harshly and grinding against me. All his inhibitions seemed to be forgotten as he pulls both of our boxers down and grasps our erections, pumping them together. I gasp and cling to him to keep from collapsing and he groans in my ear. All the passion from before was renewed tenfold. My vision was becoming blurry, and I was afraid I was going to come too soon, but he eases up and releases us before I have the chance.

He hurriedly sucks on two of his fingers as I brace myself against him. He slides them in, and it was just as mind numbing as before. He works them inside of me, but avoids the one spot I want him to hit. He doesn’t waste much time with it, however as he withdraws his fingers and immediately lines himself up. I wrap one of my legs around his waist and he pushes me against the wall as I sink down on him, moaning deliriously with my eyes closed and head thrown back.

“Look at me Bakura,” he says quietly, breaking through my lust-filled mind. I open my eyes and do as he asked. He presses his forehead against mine, and I wrap my other leg around him, pushing him in deeper, making him cry out softly.

He starts moving inside me, hitting my bundle of nerves right off and making me scream and claw his shoulders. He doesn’t seem to mind as he hits it over and over, supporting me against the wall as he does so.

The heat is sensational, coiling in my stomach and spreading through my body. I feel like I am on fire and I crave more, pushing back against him as he drives into me. His warm fingers wrap around my neglected flesh once again, and he brings us both to completion. I scream as I come, flinging my head back sharply into the wall and digging my fingers into his tan shoulders. He gives his own strangled sob as my muscles clamp around him and he comes deep inside me.

His knees collapse and we both slide to the ground. I feel a little dazed from hitting my head against the wall, and he lets me lean on his shoulder, tangling his fingers in my hair. He says my name quietly and I look up at him, expecting some sort of dismissal as I feel the warmth of my orgasm quickly being devoured by the emptiness inside me.

His eyes are full of something I don’t recognize as he gazes down at me. Not pity, not anymore. And not hatred either.

“Stay with me,” he says, stroking my hair.

“You don’t like me,” I reply, as if that should answer everything.

“I never said that,” he tells me.

“You didn’t have to,” I respond. He looks like he wants to retort, but stays silent. His fingers running through my hair is extremely relaxing, and I find myself going limp against him.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly and wraps his arms around me.

I say nothing in return, but lean against his warmth as his arms hold me tighter. Maybe he is sorry and maybe he means it. Maybe he doesn’t and maybe I’ll end up hurt in the end. I don’t really care either way at the moment, because he’s holding me in his warm embrace and it’s hard to stay awake as that affectionate happy feeling of belonging washes over me again, and I drift asleep in his arms.

XxXxX

I wake up in a warm, but unfamiliar place. There is someone next to me, or rather against me. I open my eyes slowly and notice that my head is lying on someone’s chest that is rising and falling slowly. I sit up quickly and see that the person next to me is the pharaoh, and then the events of last night come back to me.

My sudden movement seems to have woken Yami up. He looks at me sleepily and I turn away.

“How did we get up here?” I ask him without turning to face him. The last thing I can remember is falling asleep downstairs.

“You fell asleep. I carried you up here,” he says, sitting up. “I put your clothes in the dryer, but its still early, Ryou and Yugi won’t be home for another couple of hours. Come back to bed.”

I don’t want to go back to bed. I can’t really figure out why I am in bed with him in the first place. Actually, I know why, but that just confuses me all the more.

“Bakura?” he says, and I realize I haven’t moved.

“Why did you do it?” I ask him softly, almost fearing the answer. I expect him to say something like I wanted you, I felt sorry for you, hell even, to spite you. But he didn’t.

“Because I love you,” he says simply. I could have taken anything but that. I was used to the others. I could have accepted them, gotten up, dressed, and left. But no one had ever said that to me before.

“Don’t say that,” I say harshly. I’m sick of him playing with my emotions. It already hurts that I finally got what I wanted, and I know I’ll never have it again. Why does he have to continue to torment me?

“Why not?” he asks innocently. He wraps an arm around my stomach and rests his chin on my shoulder, and I can feel the heat of his body spreading to mine.

Tears are stinging me eyes. I must have been insane to come here.

“Because it’s not true,” I reply. How could it be? He’s a pharaoh, and I am only a thief. He doesn’t even like me. He’s never shown any interest in me before, and now his careless declarations are going to tear my heart out.

“It is true,” he says softly, kissing my temple. “It’s been true for a long time.”

“Don’t,” is all I can manage to say as I try to pull away from him, but that strangled pain is gripping my heart again and I feel a little light headed.

“Please Bakura,” he says desperately, clinging to me and keeping me from escaping. “I do. I have...since Egypt.” He trails off and I can’t bring myself to look at him. When did I become such a coward?

“I always admired you,” he continues softly. “I was jealous even. You were so free, and I was tied to my responsibilities. I envied your ability to escape. Even now, you can just leave so easily. I wish I could be as carefree as you. It’s hard when people depend on you all the time.”

I was silent. He wanted what I had? He didn’t know how it felt. He had never been alone.

“I wanted to...do this for so long, but you would have never allowed it,” he tells me.

I didn’t know what to say to that. This was all so new to me. Was he really waiting all that time? If he was willing to wait so long, then surely what he said is true?

I lean against him and I can feel him breathe a sigh of relief and hold me tighter. That warm feeling of belonging washed through my body, making my skin tingle pleasantly and I relaxed, enjoying the feeling of him against me.

To think we wasted all this time because we thought the other wouldn’t allow it. And I thought I was good at reading people.

“Yami?” I ask.

“Hmm?” he replies, his breath warm against my ear.

“I’ve loved you too.”