Chapter Text
Bakura's POV
They said only when you had lost something did you know how important it was to you.
But was it?
Was it?
I averted my eyes, they wandered around the room, then settled down on your translucent white hair. Those soft strands trailed off your long slender neck, as you hid your face behind the book.
Was it?
I traced your small hand with my palm. You shuddered, but didnt resist. You sat there, in your own world, drowning in your own imagination. You didnt notice I had taken your hand and kept it under mine. You didnt look at me, your serene emerald orbs were glued to the book. Just like back in the days, you wouldnt look at me, not even once. At first I thought you was scared, but as we grew up I knew, you wouldnt look at me, because in your eyes my figure had never been reflected.
Was it?
I mumbled, and questioned myself. I thought so, I had, but it was not the case.
"You miss him?"
Your voice pulled me out of melancholy, I turned to you, only to be greeted with, again, you and your book. You had soft voice, almost too soft, as it faded away in the air immediately after you spoke.
"No"
"No?"
"Not really."
You simply blinked and turned the pages. Silence fell upon us as you continued with your book, as if nothing had happened. Not a single word had been exchanged. Not even a glance. I feel irritated as I squeezed your hand tightly, your fingers' bones firm under my touch. But you didnt look up.
"I know you are sad about him passing away, but can you let go of my hand? Its getting sore."
Your only response, cruel and cold. I clenched my teeth, almost forcefully let go. You reverted your hand to your lap. Again, silence.
"You arent like this before."
"I have never been what you think I am. And I thought you know that already."
I was fustrated at your words, so I yanked away the book and pushed you down to the couch.
"Let do it."
"Now? Did we just do it yesterday?"
"I said I wanted to do it now."
I pressed my lips to yours, contradicted to my chapped one, yours was soft and sweet.
Was I using this as an excuse?
As you turned your back to me, hid your face into the soft pillow, you clang to it and refused to let out any sound.
Was I not good enough?
I thrust into you and you jerked, but yet no words was made.
"You know, he is a vocal one."
"I know, but Im not him. And Im not doing this with you to make you feel better. Im not his replacement."
I wondered why you could manage to keep down all the noises you made during climaxing, yet spoke those cruel fact so clear. We fell into silence again, only the sound of our intertwined body left.
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Was it? Was it? Was it?
I asked myself several time when laying down next to you. You were especially peaceful in your sleep, but I knew the moment those eyes opened, they would be cold and distant. You never looked me in the eyes, your pink lips which spoke cruel words. Making terrible remarks again and again. I got a weird feeling that you were torturing me, punishing me, because you were mad. You were really mad at me.
Was it?
Why was it?
You woke up, sleepy emerald orbs fuzzy under fluttering eyeslashes. You saw me and then you turned away. I tried to stop you from changing sides, kept you down under my body, your breath closed to mine. However, you didnt push away. You simply stared at the pillows next to you.
"If you have anything to say, spit it out."
You sounded annoyed. But I was at a loss of words. So I managad to start clearing the misunderstanding between us.
"You are not his replacement."
"I am his replacement to you. No matter how you put it, the truth cannot be changed. You still love him. Thats all I need to know."
Bitterness in your voice, you closed those eyes and exhaled, as if you had been trying to deal with an idiot all the time and finally got sick of it. I felt enraged, noone dared to talk back to me, no, not even the him you mentioned, yet you managed to drop those words smoothly onto my ears. I didnt want you to think that.
"You are not.his. replacement.to.me"
"I have enough with this pillow talk, can I go? I have a date with my friends."
"Ryou, you are not going anywhere until you explain to me where did you get the thought of being a replacement."
"You."
You sighed, once again tried to squirm out of my reach so I held you closer, prevented you from escaping again.
"What?"
"I got the idea from you. It was you who made me into a replacement, now let go. I have enough of this silly game you are trying to pull."
As I was confused, you climbed out of bed, my seeds dripped down your thighs as you walked to the bathroom with a disgusted face.
Was it?
Those words echoed in my mind.
Was it?
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Even with how much a butterfly adored and loved the flower. Eventually, it would feed on the flower's nectar, and watched its own beloved died in vain.
Ryou read that line over and over and over again. Hurtful as it was, the truth spreaded itself on the paper, in every words and phrases.
No matter how much he adored you. No matter how much he loved you. In the end he would rip you apart. And oh how clearly you understood the pain caused by his deeds.
Let go.
Ryou mumbled to himself. Let go, before he killed you with his own hands.
Let go. Ryou dropped the book to the floor.
Let go. He hugged himself, tried to make his body as small as he could.
Let go. He told himself. So painful, yet was relieved nevertheless.
Let go of his hands. Let go of your love and pleadings. Let go of your prayers every night. Let go of it. Let go of him.
Then shall you be free from all this sufferings?
Ryou was silent as the rain trickled down his windows.
A castatrophe was coming.