Short story "Move on", also to be known as "meaningless, worthless crap that I wrote in about an hour at a time at which normal people would be asleep".

I dunno, I just started writing and then this came out xD

I intended to make an angstshipping oneshot for your bday, mystralwind, but since you want Malik I guess I'll have to fly to Japan and try to buy the copyright on his character :P

Also, yamihikari, I obviously wanted to respond earlier but since you have no account (GODDAMNIT GO GET ONE YOU BEEP) I'll just have to do it now: of course we're friends! reloads her gun and shoots you again That's just my way of showing that I care! xD
And I had to put in the beep because this story will be rated K! So no cursing, children! K is for children right? Actually I have no idea what it means, but since it was the rating that was on top I figured it was probably the "lightest" rating. Wow. I just realized how stupid I am xDD I really have to look up how the friggin American rating system stuff works xD also, I'm not sure if I should even rate it like that because I don't even remember if there was or wasn't cursing in this fic. I think there was. There usually is when I write something xD

Move on.

That’s what everybody has been continuously telling me for so long.

Move on. Forget about what happened. Build a new life.

I don’t think they’re wrong or anything, mind you. I know I have to stop going on and on about what happened, stop blaming myself for all the damage that’s been done.

But I just can’t.

How long has it been since then anyway? One year? Two?

I sigh as I look over the city. The view is really nice up here. Isis keeps telling me I shouldn’t sit on the roof because it’s dangerous, but I like it up here. Sometimes I just need a place for myself.

Two years…two years since this place was engulfed with duelists from all over the world. Two fucking years since everything that has happened during Battle City.

“Battle City…”

It’s like they’re words from a foreign language; they don’t mean a thing to me anymore. Then why do I keep contemplating it over and over again?

I sigh again and ruffle my hair. After the pharaoh banished my other half to the darkest corner of the world I just felt…different. It was as if my dark desires vanished together with him.

Am I the only one who stills remembers Battle City. Was only I affected by it?

And I am so stupid…for feeling guilty for what I have done. For being this sad, miserable pile of futility. I feel like I’m nothing; like I’m a breath of air. If the spirit of the Ring or my darker half could see me now, they would probably laugh themselves to death. Oh well. At least someone would find me amusing.

Suddenly I freeze as I see someone walking down the street. Barely anyone comes here at this point of time; we don’t live in a very secure neighborhood.

It’s a boy I can tell, with very fair shoulder-length hair.

My eyes widen as I realize who this is. What is the host of the spirit of the Ring doing here, at this hour?

I jump off the roof, on the balcony, and climb down the house via the drainpipe. Isis is really going to have it at me if she sees me now, she forbade me to do that. Not that I really care.

“Ryou Bakura.”

The pale boy froze immediately at the mentioning of his name. I walk towards him without averting my eyes a single time. Does this guy even remember me? And why should I even care about that anyway?

He looks a bit frightened…not really I’m-about-to-piss-myself kind of frightened, but he seems to be on his guard.

As I think over what this guy has been through, also because of me, I inwardly curse at myself for my self-pitying earlier. Pharaoh and his friends can bitch all they want about being victims of mine, Bakura and my other half’s deeds, but it’s this boy that has taken the most damage.

Even now, he seems so innocent. So content, sweet, so my-life-is-very-normal-and-perfect. But somewhere in those big, brown eyes I can spot the sadness he must have been hiding all this time. I can’t believe what I’ve done to him.

Sure, it was the dweller of the Millennium Item he has hold onto for so long that gets most of the credit for hurting him, but I’ve certainly contributed my mite as well.

“How…err, how have you been?”

Was it really me saying that?

The words seem so distant.

Ryou seems to agree, because he’s tilting his head a bit to one side and looking at me as if I just revealed I’m wearing a pink thong. With ruffles.

“I’m sorry?”

Polite as ever, that Ryou. He could have just told me something like “what the fuck do you want, you shitface?” That was probably what he really wanted to ask anyway. What the fuck did I want from him anyway?

Feeling a little awkward suddenly, I ruffle my hair some more (I swear by now I have to look like something just blew up on the back of my head) and avert my eyes to my right.

“I just wondered…how you’ve been.”

The small boy stopped giving me that astonished look, but his head remained tilted to the side.

“Just fine, thank you,” he responded with his soft, calm voice.

Always acting like everything was okay. Telling everyone you’re fine, smiling politely. I suddenly feel a lot more sympathy for this boy, I know what he’s been through.

Everything is not okay.

I’m surprised he hasn’t screamed his lungs out yet and ran off as fast as he could. Does he not remember me then? Or maybe he never realized that even though I was the one that found him in that alley when he was wounded, I was also partly responsible for that wound to begin with.

I wonder if it left him with some nasty scars. Maybe his arm has even been permanently damaged. Bakura had jammed that knife pretty damn hard in his arm after all.

“How has your arm been?”

Then the look on his face starts to soften a little, and I can tell from the look in his eyes that only now he realizes who I am.

“Oh, it’s just fine. Sometimes it suddenly starts to hurt a little again, but it barely ever troubles me.” He says, adding a kind smile to the sentence.

Despite his appearance he’s a real tough one, I’m suddenly aware. Or maybe he just learnt it was best to shut up and let it all rain down on him. So sad really…

For reasons unknown to me I step forward and pinch him in his arm, right on the spot where the wound had been. He bites his lower lip a bit at the action.

“I thought so…” I nearly whispered. I don’t know if I should pity him or respect him for his toughness.

“Want to go grab a bite?”

Aliens must’ve taken over my mind because I now find myself taking hold of his hand…and did I just ask him to have dinner with me?

I’m kind of expecting the return of the dumbfounded what-the-fuck-did-you-just-say look, but that one never makes its way back to Ryou’s face. He’s smiling at me though. I feel really awkward.

“O-okay,” he says a little hesitantly, but the smile never disappears from his soft features. I wonder if the stupid one is me for asking him out, or him for actually saying yes.

We start walking away from my house, headed to the centre of Domino City. I’m still expecting aliens to randomly pop out of nowhere and expose tiny little technological things with which they are controlling my brain.

I’m not sure why but…the last time I felt so peaceful was decades ago. Maybe I really want to get to know this person. I’m kind of in need of a friend anyway, and I think…no, I feel…

He’s just like me.