Apology fic for Satine89. She knows why.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yugioh.

Stockholme syndrome

If I cried, there would be no one to wipe my tears. If I cried, the only one who would hear me would be a heartless tomb robber, who wouldn't care enough to hold me, even if he had a physical body.

If I cried, I couldn't feel more unloved than I feel now.

Under this mask of mine, which bears a passive smile, there is a sad, small, deranged boy who holds feelings for a millennia old spirit. Those feelings are of the type that a male should not feel of another. The… love type feelings I feel… I can't stand them.

Every time I hear his twisted voice, calling me that twisted pet name he's given me, my heart skips a beat. First I thought it was fear, but I came to love that voice, no matter how like my own it sounded.

I think I'm suffering from Stockholm syndrome. What happens is that the captive takes a liking, even to the extent of falling in love, with the captor, taking every minuscule taste of compassion, and enlarging it.

It's terrifying, really. He mocks me, shows me what I'm missing, and makes shadows of doubt in my mind about my own allies. Why he does this is much beyond me; he just does. If… if I ever cried, he would tease me. He would call me weak, stupid for getting worked up.

As much as I loved having him in my mind, I take his criticism to heart. I stopped crying when he teased me; I stopped laughing because he told me that it sounded dumb; I even stopped making friends because he said that no one would like me even if I tried.

If he had also said that I could only be his, I would feel much better.

I like to think of myself like that though, that I only have him and he only has me. That's not true. Some nights he takes control over my body, and I wake up in a hotel room with a hooker all over me after the spirit of the Ring gets sick of her.

That the hookers would always be women eliminated my chances with him. I was a boy. I am still a boy, a young, hopelessly lost cause and casualty.

When I cry, there's no one to hold me, but there's always someone to insult me about it.

And that alone makes me feel better.