Glass-doll

[This is a song-fic, and the purpose was to try to capture Ryou's frailty, and the unhealthy relationship he is in.
Please don't run away screaming just because it is a song-fic. Give my angsty story a chance, people, please?

Song: "Glass Bone Crash" by Aura , youtube-link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1t56eACMjnk .
If you want the full experience, then listen to the song while you read :).

I do not own the song "Glass Bone Crash", or any other song for that matter.. I'm broke.

I hope you read, enjoy, rate and review!]


This fic has been placed in the caring hands of my wonderful Beta; a heart-felt thank you for her hard work.
'Kimba LionHeart': http://anime2.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=1296868044.

Glass-doll


Why was he still here?

The voice that had haunted him for most of his teen years hadn’t disappeared when the Millennium Ring had vanished. The only difference now was that the voice no longer exclusively rang inside his head, but outside it as well. And the strong presence he had felt in his mind no longer just tampered with his thoughts, but also held his physical body still in a steal grip.

And he didn’t know which was worse.

I stood on ice
You broke it for fun
Shadows in my window
Each time I try to run

He had tried running. Many times; but never made it past the front door. Every time it started with slight anger that grew stronger and morphed into a pressing urge to leave. To flea, to keep running until his legs would give out on him. He packed a duffel bag and turned the handle on the door. He made it out of the door; only to freeze in the hallway at the top of the stairs.

Each step down was a fight but he convinced himself that somewhere out there, life was waiting for him. A better life.

And he made it down the stairs. Then there was the fight to cross the kitchen and living area. He usually made it through the kitchen with little trouble but it always got harder when he entered the living room. Because he would be sitting there, looking at him, expecting a good show of ‘Ryou trying to leave’.

He knew the outcome of his Hikari’s attempts to run, and never interfered physically with them. He merely sat there, looking at the frail frame walking across the room. He kept talking to his other half, asking him; “where would he go?”, “do you think you can handle the world out there?”, “it’s getting dark outside, it’s cold”.

Bakura was constantly demolishing him. Ryou would stop in front of the windows and look outside. He would gasp every time and freeze with a look of fright and horror on his face, watching the darkness just outside of his comfy, warm house. There would be figures lurking out there, waiting for him to step out of his door and out of his Yami’s protecting arms.

And I’m scared because through telescope you’ve seen
Millions of pieces that flies in me
Glass and bone are all I see
Small blue things are watching me

He kept his eyes fixed on the wooden floor beneath him, as he attempted to block out his Yami’s voice. The words he whispered, the lies he whispered. He wouldn’t let them affect him again; he wouldn’t give in like last time.

But he did. He always did.

That was the reason he still lived in this house. The reason he never protested too much when rough hands grabbed him from behind, and soft lips sought out his sensitive neck. And really, it was a take and give situation, right? Bakura provided protection, and he provided ... himself.

But he always kept their mind-connection closed. Or tried.

Ryou tried so hard, blocking out the things he tried to make him believe, the images he kept sending him.

It could be anything. Images of people Bakura had killed, paranoid feelings of being watched, surveyed, stalked by an unknown predator, they had almost manifested permanently in Ryou, visions of things creeping around outside his house, inside it. And they all made him want to run into the warm arms of his darker half, the only one who could protect him.

Flesh and bone and blood and sweat
Came from your head handmade
When you hold me I am blue
I wish that glass would turn to stone
Cause if it’s hot I meld away
And sure I break one clumsy day

It was a state of constant fear. He had gotten even jumpier than he used to be, he often got teased for it. The gang would get a laugh when he jumped in school because Tristan laid a hand on his shoulder, merely to claim his attention because he had been zoning out again. But he only jumped because rougher hands had grabbed his shoulder, holding him tight and squeezing, gripping, holding him, and tightening its hold with such pressure and force that he would end up wincing, and in the end nearly screaming before the pressure would ease, and sweet vile words would float to his ear. But his friends didn’t know that. They thought the ancient spirit of the tomb-robber had vanished with the Millenium Items. And he wanted it to stay that way. He didn’t want to burden his friends with his troubles, and surely he would be leaving this house soon, this time he would make it. He didn’t want Yuugi to worry and Atemu to start arguing with Bakura about how one should treat ones’ light. Because, he could imagine from earlier happenings between Bakura and the pharaoh, that he despised so much, that the abuse would only escalate and get worse.

And sometimes, if Bakura was in a good mood, he wouldn’t be that bad, he could be almost gentle.

But inside, beneath the brain-washing, he knew that ‘gentle’ truly wasn’t a word that could in any possible way describe his yami.

He was cruel, vicious, devious and sometimes just plain-out evil and horrible towards Ryou. He would shift his behavior from day to day, or even just change in the blink of an eye like a pregnant woman. Move from burning rage and aggressive, violent behavior that had Ryou backing into a corner of the room in fright, to a sweet, apologizing manner, holding Ryou, protecting him, encasing him in something that must be the closest thing to love that Bakura could muster. And then, brown eyes would grow hard again, and the cruel smile and laughter was back, and he would once again be left hurting, crying and deeply frightened in the corner of his own living room.

I knock on wood
You burned it for fun
White clowns in my doorway
Each time I tried to run

Because Bakura knew, he knew exactly what hurt his former host the most, which fears Ryou held in his heart, what Ryou secretly craved, the love that he so desperately sought, which made him so much easier to manipulate. Bakura could see right through his former host, like glass. The thing that amused him more than anything about Ryou was that, even though he always resisted and said that he didn’t want it, Bakura knew that he did. Because Ryou craved love, he craved to be held and comforted and to have someone to snuggle with when he went to bed. So all Bakura had to do was to be absent for a short amount of time, not pay attention to his hikari, and not touch him in any way. It was only a matter of time before Ryou would sit a bit closer to him on the couch, lean against him, and then he could touch the albino anywhere he wanted, because he was in such a deep need of the attention, resulting from having been severely neglected by his father, and not highly enough valued by his friends. He would beg Bakura to touch him, to hold him, and he would beg to be fucked and Bakura would come to his hikari’s rescue, because really, who could stand to look at such a well-kicked puppy and not help it just a bit? Of course, he did kick it again afterwards, but that was half the fun, seeing the hurt expression in those brown eyes never failed to make him laugh. It was like a lab-experiment, seeing if the electrocuted hamster would return to try and eat the food again, only to have another shock of electricity. Seriously, how stupid could the boy be?

Bakura chuckled as he looked at the boy, lying on his bed, evidence of last night decorating the pale skin. There were many pretty colors in the mix; white, red, blue, yellow, purple and brown had even snuck their way in. He tilted his head to the side and considered the sight. Maybe too many colors? Or not enough?

I’m scared because through telescope you’ve seen
Millions of pieces that fold in me
Glass and bone are all I see
Small blue things are watching me

Ryou woke up the next morning, a bit groggy and confused. When he lifted his arm to rub his eyes a shooting pain let him know that, no-uh, that wasn’t going to happen right now. He looked down and released a shuddered mixture of a sigh and a sob as he took in the part of his chest that he could see. He wasn’t confused anymore he knew exactly what had happened. Bakura had been vicious from the look of things. This time he did lift both his arms and rub his face and eyes, groaning as he did it.

‘I need to shower’

When he tried to move his legs, pain told him even harsher than last time that, NO, that wasn’t an opportunity. He lay still for a few minutes as he tried to assess how bad it was. It hurt the most at his ass, not surprising, but it kept shooting lightning up his spine. When he thought about the night before.. He remembers the pain, the manic glint in Bakura’s eyes, but he also remembers the kisses and how soft and careful Bakura had been the first time. Surely, that spoke of feelings, didn’t it? It was love. It was the closest thing to love that Bakura could give, wasn’t that good enough? He really couldn’t expect more from his yami than what was fair and reasonable, and possible. At least Bakura was there to torture him, wasn’t that better than .. not at all? Didn’t he, deep inside, want this? Maybe not the pain, not the bruises, but the attention. Maybe he was doing something wrong, why else would Bakura hurt him? What was he doing wrong?

Flesh and bone and blood and sweat
Came from your head handmade
When you hold me I am blue
I wish that glass would turn to stone

Those thoughts had also become a routine of his. He had considered that opportunity so many times, wracking his brain for what it was that he had done, because surely it was his fault, like with everything else. After thinking and twisting and turning his brain around to figure it out, he reached the same conclusion that he did every time:

He had done nothing wrong. Bakura had no right to do this, he should love him, not beat him. He should care, be nice, not curse and be mad and unpredictable. But… wasn’t he all those things to protect Ryou? Protect him against all the things outside, those lurking shadows and faceless men, waiting just outside his door, and the things inside as well. Shadow-magic was real, what about everything else? All the other myths about creatures and monsters? Bakura could protect him. He loved Bakura, and on some twisted level, Bakura loved him back. He had to.

Cause if it’s hot I meld away
And sure I break one clumsy day

He was changing, he could feel himself changing, and he was loosing himself. And he could do nothing about it. Bakura was molding him, shaping him up, and then dropping him carelessly on the floor and walking away before finding him interesting again, and picking him up to shape him once more. Like he was a piece of toy; like a doll that you can dress and undress and play with, grow bored of and throw away. But Bakura could see right through this doll, like glass.

I wish that glass could turn to stone

He was a glass-doll, see-through and breakable. Unimportant and something easily replaced. At the whim of his owner and helpless to do anything about it. He didn’t want to be like this. He was stronger than this, wasn’t he? He used to be strong, he used to be worthy of being Yuugi’s friend. He didn’t know what he was anymore. Nothing made sense, nothing fit together, and the broken glass-pieces of the doll wouldn’t go back together and be fixed. The glass-doll couldn’t be mended. He didn’t know what he wanted, but it wasn’t this. He didn’t want to be see-through anymore, he didn’t want Bakura to manipulate him, he didn’t want to love Bakura.

I wish that glass could turn to stone

But he did.


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[And that's all you get for your 5 cents, people!


I'll be back with some more lovely SetoJou, hopefully before we all grow grey and old..

Love Mulle]