Fate: Let the games...begin!

Disclaimer: Yeeeeeesss?


[prologue] Tarnished

...this can't be everything. This can't be all he is. This can't be...

I won't let it be.

But I'll never be able to change it. Never in a million years. What do I do?

...he doesn't love me.

iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou...

I will do anything to make you love me. Anything to make you beg to love me. Anything.

Anything.

Anything...

...why am I thinking this?

Bakura Ryou sat up quickly with a gasp, falling out of bed. His heart was racing, sweat beaded across his forehead and stung in the cuts on his face, and his breath was coming and going oddly.

...just a dream.

This will never change. Go back to sleep and dream, Ryou. Dream of what will never be.

I love you...

His eyes fell on the shape huddled in a corner.

Why is he in here?

He drew his knees up to his chest, eyes riveted on the figure curled in the shadows.

To dream is to love is to fall is to lose is to be conquered...

[-]

My name is Ryou Bakura. I'm a Monster World extraordinaire, social outcast, and all-around shit-out-of-luck teenaged boy. And right now, I'm dragging myself down the street with a black eye, a twisted ankle, and a fraction of my normal amount of sanity. And I am madly, wildly, and painfully in love with an undead boy from five thousand years ago who happens to live in my head and, on off days, throw heavy objects at my face.

I hit my head on the table and wrenched my ankle out from under me this morning, and then I ran. He didn't know I got hurt. And he wouldn't care, either. That's why I'm out here. He wouldn't care one bit except where I can't see. And I don't want to see that on his face again.

I hate that painful, crazy mishmash of exasperation and annoyance and anger and disgust and confusion and fear and stop looking at me...

I hate it with a mad passion that I don't understand. I'm a medieval person, I suppose. I hate and love simply and easily and for my whole life and at first sight. It's all so easy and it's all so right and he'll never know or care or understand, because he's supposed to be everything I'm not.

I'd do anything to give him a taste of this wild reeling pain, the constant tears, the constant lump in the back of my throat. I'd do anything to be able to just give him everything I am. Just for a day, an hour, a minute, anything. Just a taste of me.

He was never mine, but I want him here with me all the same. I miss him, not ever having known him. I want him back, never having had him. I long for his friendship, much though I've never experienced it. I wish away the pain, knowing it won't go away just like that. He's not mine to wish for, but can't I have a little dream of my own? He's everything I'm not, and some of the things he is I so want to be.

I want him with burning primeval fire. I want to know how he tastes, what his skin and hair feels like, what colours his eyes can be. I want to know if his blood runs hot or cold. I want to know everything behind those blank swirling eyes with all those camouflaging emotions.

And one day I will know. But until then, I'll be a slave, I'll be silent, I'll fade and wish and hope and dream and wait.

I will.

I will.

I will do anything for him, you see. And when it all goes upside down, he'll do anything for me.

You see?


Fluffy: Go. Go forth and fear.