Of the Dark and Light
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
Darkness, forever ruling
Eden, now lost forever
Atlantis, forever drowned
Trickery, the rule of man
Hatred, Earth is lost
Hell, the home of darkness
Adam, the first man's sin
Satan, the devil himself
Chaos, he will rule in the end
Omens, signs of the future
Monster, the final form of man
End, it has come
Immortal, no man is
Tears, weakness shows itself
Inevitable, it is nearing the end
Saviour, one never came
Traitor, he shows himself
Hate, sin and weakness
Elysian and heaven, never exist
Eternity, it will never end
Night, its coldness hurtful to me
Death, the last resort… my first and only life
Ryou put the pen down, folded the paper, and put it in an envelope. It was his last message to the world, the last point he would be making… ever. He'd had it with this 'life'; even death would be a better option.
His mother had died when he was only a year old and his father was never around. To make things worse, if indeed they cold have been, his dark side, the spirit of the Sennen Ring, was hateful and dark, a demon. The spirit, Bakura, cared about Ryou about as much as his father did; or rather did not and that is what hurt the most. How many know what it is like to deeply love someone and yet be spurned away with nothing but indifference? Ryou did, and that is what had turned him to this, to his last resort.
Ryou took a handgun out of his desk draw and twirled it around in his fingers, noticing that the light seemed almost black as it was reflected off the metal surface. As he looked at it the more afraid he became. He shook his head, his white tresses falling over his equally white face; he couldn't loose his nerve now; if he didn't do it now he never would.
He held the gun to his forehead, shivering as the icy metal touched his skin. It was so cold, so very cold… But then again, he reminded himself, everything would be dark and cold from now on wouldn't it? No matter what evidence there was against it, Ryou knew that there would be no afterlife; not for him anyway. There would only be darkness and nothingness. Yet he truly did not care; it was just, just…
'Are you sure you want to do this?' a voice in his head whispered and he knew that it wasn't his dark-side. Why, since Bakura had got his own body things had become worse than ever, hadn't they? He could see the yami's indifference to him even more clearly than ever now. Oh such cold indifference.
As he stared at the gun he felt as though he would cry. he wished that he could cry, but such things seemed beyond him now. His dark eyes were misted over in sadness and he sighed.
"Goodbye," he whispered. Then, almost as an afterthought, softly said, "Aishiteru."
Then there was pain, a gunshot, screaming… and then there was only darkness.
The apartment was shrouded in a cloak of darkness so that no one would see the horror that had occurred there earlier that day. A pale man sat on the floor of one of the rooms, the cold moon staring down on him and lighting the tears that were falling down his face as well as what it was that had hurt him so. There lay the body of another, one who seemed younger than the first, lay on the floor, surrounded by his own blood, his eyes dark, blank, cold and staring as he lay there in death.
The dark and callous spirit wept in sorrow, anger and hollowness. He hated himself for causing this, for his coldness. Why had he not simply told his hikari how he felt? Human emotions were always the bane of his existence, even now that he wasn't truly human. He let the tears clear from his black eyes and gazed down on his light side. He sighed darkly and tore his eyes away, and it was then that he noticed an envelope on the edge of the desk. With trembling fingers he opened it and read the 'letter' that had been enclosed inside.
"Death has come; it is the end," he whispered, piecing together the message his hikari had left for him. It was true, so very true. But it was not until he read it through again that he saw what really mattered. One word had been scrawled in the corner of the page, so small that few would have seen it.
"Aishiteru," he whispered, his tears coming anew. And as the dark and hateful spirit sat there he knew why his hikari was gone. He had died because of the callous indifference he had shown him. His light had faded away because of his seeming coldness.
How beautiful the boy appeared, even in death. He knelt down and brushed the bloodied hair away from his hikari's face then, on impulse, pressed his lips to those of his light side's corpse. How cold they were, how bitter.
'Just like you were to him' Bakura thought. He prised the gun from his hikari's hand and pressed it to his temple. They would die in the same way on the same day. He felt no fear, only sadness at his loss.
"Aishiteru, Ryou" he whispered as he pulled the trigger. Then there was pain… and then nothing.
(A.N: The poem at the start was written when I was in sixth grade, so I'm sorry if it's not that good.)