Chapter Text
Ryou carried his book close to his chest, forcing him to use the side of his body to push open the door.
His mind drifted along as he dragged his feet across the pavement. He thought about dogs. He saw a lot of them while he was out, watching a woman walk her golden retriever. He saw another guy with a corgi, and he frowned. Corgis were the Queen's dogs, now he felt homesick all over again.
The homesickness was not a desired feeling; any distraction would do. Everywhere he looked---the grey city buildings, the metro, the smell of smoke, the busy streets---he was reminded of London again and again. He wanted to curl up in bed, close his eyes, pretend he was still there. He missed his old school, the familiar blocks and shops, the routinely stroll down to the library with a warm beverage.
He pulled his scarf to his nose, the cold not quite the same as it was up north. Ryou hugged his book tighter to his chest as he boarded the Metro, in order to get to his makeshift home.
His nose buried in the book he read. Fortunately, he found an empty seat, the subway rather vacant at this time of day. Picking up where he left off, he was soon enveloped in a love story that he wanted for himself.
He snakes his arm around my shoulders. I smile at him; he smiles at me. And it's good.
The metro came to a stop after some time, letting passengers on and off. Ryou glanced up at the blinking lights overhead, seeing that it wasn't his stop. He returned to his book.
He kisses me, his soft, warm lips pressed to mine. I'm smiling again. I just can't help it.
A cluster of civilians boarded the bus, taking up seats until a few people had to stand. Someone sat next to Ryou, making him shift so that he wouldn't take up any more room. He didn't look up from his book—he was in no search of a conversation.
His hands glide up my shirt, my bare back in his hold. I want to stay like this forever.
Ryou could tell that the two lovers were probably going to take their encounter a little further. He didn't mind these sort of scenes in books, but his face went red at the thought of someone looking over his shoulder and seeing what he was reading.
His body presses into mine, his skin feels hot and his build is firm. My insides are sparking up; my breathing grows heavy—
Alright, that's enough, he thought, putting in the bookmark. He glanced up and around to see if anyone was reading it too.
Out of the corner of his eye, he made out the shape of someone at his side. A man sat slumped in the seat. Earbud cords trailed down his shirt and into his jacket pocket. Ryou assumed he was sleeping, which gave him enough confidence to turn his head for a better look.
He knew it was rude to stare, but he couldn't help but observe him; there was so much to take in, one glance wasn't enough— his complexion made Ryou think of how his mum used to do her coffee, after the cream and sugar. His skin was smooth and clear, no blemishes that he could see. And the structure of his face, Ryou thought of a towering oak tree, its branches firm and prominent, like his nose, his cheekbones, his jawline. So strong, so defined. His hair color like sand, like the sandboxes Ryou played in as a child. He'd scoop it into his hands, let it pour through his fingers. The grains were so soft, and so fine...
Ryou couldn't find his breath. "Wow..." he whispered.
The man's eye opened, glaring right at him.
Ryou's heart plummeted.
The man spat, "Can you not?"
Ryou shrank into himself, curling back to his own seat and turning his head back so fast he heard his neck crack a little. "I..." he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to explain himself. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."
"Didn't what? Didn't mean to?"
The awe that Ryou felt was lost, a spell broken from the moment that man's gravelly voice spit poison. He felt his cheeks growing hot. "I'm sorry."
"You're only sorry that you got caught," the man snarled, getting right up in his face. "Not all of us can be like you."
Ryou thrust open his book and pretended to read for a few painful seconds, hoping that if he just ignored this guy then he could be left alone.
"That's it? You're not...?" The man's anger was reduced to a simmer, but he was still boiling. With no fight to be had, he put a lid on it and turned away.
Granted, Ryou deserved it, but it wasn't as though he had any ill intentions. Oh well, no need to pursue the case any further.
Our eyes meet again. He breathes onto my neck, whispering things I don't hear over my heart pounding in my ears.
Ryou didn't know what else to do but read on.
"Hmm..." the sound sprouted from his stomach, seeded by discomfort and a slight buzz. It wasn't very loud, but to him he might as well have yelled it.
He glanced around again, now seeing that the guy next to him was glancing back. Even with his glare, his eyes were a soft night sky that followed a sunset.
Embarrassed, he looked down again at his book, trying to put the vision of this young couple growing more and more intimate out of his head, and the really cute guy sitting next to him didn't help the sparks inside his own belly. Ryou wished he hadn't pissed him off, otherwise he would work up the courage for a conversation.
He thought about looking out the window, but he knew all his thoughts would be on that guy and how he really shouldn't have stared. What was he thinking?
Maybe I can skim this section, Ryou thought. He wanted to progress in the story, but he could not sit and read the socially accepted porn until he was home. Not to mention, he had already projected himself onto the main character prior to this scene. Although she was a girl, Ryou could relate to her curious nature and lust of adventure. She was shy, like him. Introverted, like him. But this sudden craving of physical intimacy with another human being was something Ryou had never experienced firsthand. With other books he could distance himself, making him the uncomfortable third wheel to the couples of most stories. But this? He felt strange, a warm—no, hot—buzzing in his stomach that he couldn't explain. He felt frozen in his spot, as any movement would alter this feeling that he kind of...liked?
How long has his leg been touching mine? Ryou thought, glancing over at the man's knee pressed to his. This so-called 'man spreading' was not something Ryou felt was a genuine issue, especially right now. His mind wandered some, thinking of their legs rubbing together. Friction of their skin setting off every nerve in his body...
Ryou's face turned even redder when he realized what he'd been thinking. This man he'd never met. This man he'd made angry. This man with delicious skin and a build Ryou wanted to feel under his hands and lips. This man he had. Never. Met. Before.
Ryou looked down at himself and had to use his book to cover himself, pulling his jacket down. What? What???
I can't read this anymore. I have to get home, right now. Ryou looked up as the bus came to a stop again, pleading and praying that this was and wasn't his stop. He needed to go home and curl up in bed and hate himself for his sudden, immoral lust, but he wanted to apologize properly for his misbehavior and leave this really hot guy with a better impression.
It wasn't his stop, so it had to be a sign, right?
Ryou took it as one.
He closed his book and his eyes to take a deep breath. He had no confidence or any defense for himself, but he had to try.
Ryou tapped the man's shoulder. "Excuse me?"
The man's nose scrunched up with disdain, a scowl across his mouth. "What?"
"I...I don't want you to get the wrong idea," Ryou blurted, his hands clutching his book for dear life. "I wasn't staring to be rude. I..." I think you're wonderful. "...I thought I...recognized you."
There was some sort of smirk that pulled the corner of his mouth. "You really think that lying is going to make me not hate you?"
"No, no! I'm not lying!" he lied. Well, technically, he wasn't lying. He did draw connections with this man to the bloke that Bakura kept bringing over again and again. He didn't mind all too much, but he saw him all the time. He only now saw a resemblance. "I thought you were someone I knew, but I was wrong. My apologies."
"You think I haven't heard that excuse before? You didn't even try to be creative." The man huffed, shifting down into his seat even further. He reached for his hood and pulled it over his head. "You already apologized, so—leave me alone."
Ryou's guilt bubbled up inside of him, fumbling with his heart and panging his chest. "People stare at you often?"
"I thought I told you to leave me alone."
"I know, I know, but—"
"Young lady," a woman across the aisle rose her voice at Ryou. "He told you to leave him alone."
Ryou spluttered a moment, wanting to defend himself against her claim and reprimand her for getting in his business. But she was right.
The man sneered at him.
Ryou shrunk back into his chair, thinking about how to fix this. Normally he could forgive himself, knowing that he tried. At this point he was making the wrong moves back and forth, trying to wipe up a spill that only spread and worsened. It may have been a sign not to push the issue any further.
No refuge in his book and too much shame to let his eyes wander the bus, he looked out the window at the passing buildings. He wanted to be home. He wanted to fix this. He wanted a reset button.
The inevitable stop arrived and Ryou stood, hiding his face in his hair and praying that he had a cookie or something he could guilty munch on at home.
He stepped past the man as hurriedly as possible, only to have an arm grab his leg.
"Wait, holy shit!" he eyed Ryou suspiciously, then let out a haughty laugh. "You're a guy!"
"Excuse me!" Ryou struggled to free himself from his grip, feeling exposed and embarrassed. "This is my stop—I have to go!"
When he let go, Ryou squirmed through the passengers and stepped off the bus, only to find the man in pursuit.
He clenched his teeth, clutched his book and turned around once he hit the pavement. "Is this coincidentally your stop?"
"You have a dick?!"
Ryou flushed, shushing him. "Not so loud!" Then he whispered, "Of course I do. What's it to you?"
"I thought you were some fuckin', like, Tumblr chick. You know...white hair, baggy shirt. Emo."
"Oh, when you observe people, it's okay?"
The man's euphoria from his discovery had died down. His lips pursed in disdain. "An idiot could notice those things. At least I didn't stare you down like a fucking creep."
"I'm not a creep!" Ryou said, though his conscious begged to differ. Now that they were standing face to face, Ryou got a better look at his broad shoulders, his upper build, his jawline... "And I already told you, I didn't mean to stare."
They both stood a moment, Ryou waiting for him to respond. The man glanced down Ryou's body, stopped at a fixed point, then met his eyes again. A cocky grin spread on his cheeks, he snickered as he watched Ryou implode.
"No!" More flustered, he covered himself with his book. "This has nothing to do with you!"
"It doesn't? Do you get off on creeping people out?"
Ryou pulled his jacket down further and flipped through his book to his current page and offered it to him. "Here. Does this clarify it for you?"
The man snatched it from his hands and stared down at the words, a quizzical look on his face coupled with a biting of his lip. Something troubled him about the words, and Ryou stared with bated breath.
He shoved it back into Ryou's hands. "I can't read this."
Ryou raised a brow and looked down again, a guilty and embarrassed blush painting his cheeks in rosy pinks. He thought this man's reaction was an attempt to put Ryou below him, until he suddenly realized that the book was in English.
He flushed again, not sure how to fix that kind of mistake. Was he going to have to be blunt about it? "It's a..." Humiliation kept the words from coming out. 'Romance novel' would suffice, but wouldn't explain his unfortunate erection. "It's...hard to explain." Ryou couldn't meet his eyes, but he was too stiff to leave. "I can assure you this doesn't happen all the time."
He leaned in closer, getting all up in his face. "Your excuses only get worse."
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"I want the truth."
"It is the truth!"
"Then why don't I believe you?" he spat, stepping forward. As expected, Ryou shrank beneath him. "Why is it always that people like you never seem to get it? You can lie through all the shit you want, but you're all the same. Every single one of you thinks it's not your fault, that you all are just better than everyone else!" He scrunched up his face. "Get the fuck over yourself."
"Since when were you were beneath me?" Ryou said, raising his voice. "That's quite the conclusion to jump to, don't you think?"
"It's not something I pulled out of my ass, you know. You are not the first guy who's stared me down on some public transit because of..." he gestured to his face with his hand in one big circle. "...all this."
Ryou finally looked at his face, and what he was talking about. When he stared closer, he could make out veins that curled and twisted along his face, like wispy clouds over the moon. "Oh."
"Oh? Yeah, 'oh'. You fucking prick."
"No," Ryou asserted himself for the billionth time. "I meant 'oh', because I understand where you're coming from."
"Yeah? You can suddenly see? Wow." He laughed. "It's a Ra-damn miracle—I didn't know Jesus was back."
Ryou shifted his weight awkwardly. "That's not what this is about, though. I didn't notice it that much, not until you pointed it out."
"That's your worst lie so far."
Ryou then said, "You know what I think the problem is?"
"That you suck at lying?"
"No; it's that you've probably been victimized so much that you can't differentiate between an attack and a genuine misunderstanding."
The man's eyes widened, disbelief stricken across his face. "Excuse me?"
"You heard what I said, and I think it's true." Ryou crossed his arms. "Your reaction proves my point, too. I merely made an observation and for some reason it's insulting."
"It is insulting!"
"Why?"
"Because...!" he stood for a moment, the momentum of his case brought to a screeching halt. Ryou watched his face fall, the wrinkle in every scrunched corner had flattened. Ryou wondered if this is what he looked like when he was at a loss for words, himself. "...because..."
Ryou patiently waited for his reply. "I want to know, I do. Tell me so I can apologize properly."
"Shut up!" he said. "Just...leave me alone!"
"Uh, you followed me out here, sir."
"Don't call me 'sir'. Don't...don't say anything else."
Ryou nodded, giving him space.
They both stood at the bus stop, passersby simply passing by. No one seemed to really notice the two just standing there, arguing about the damnedest little thing.
The young man shoved his hands into his empty pockets. He watched Ryou's eyes—he wasn't going to let Ryou off the hook so easily, was he?
"You keep patronizing me," he said, finally. His words came out mumbled, likely having made it up, just to have a reason at all. "Who the fuck are you?"
Ryou offered his hand. "I'm Ryou—or, Bakura Ryou." He winced, but tried to smile it off. "I'm not—I'm from England. Japanese is not my first language...if that wasn't obvious."
The man stared at his hand. "You're wearing mittens."
"I am."
Reluctant, and still kind of angry, he took his mittened-hand into his bare one. "Mariku."
"Hello, Mariku." Ryou offered him a smile he knew he wouldn't receive in return. "I'm sorry for staring at you on the metro, and I'm sorry for patronizing you."
"Thank you." Their handshake was brief but Mariku's hand still felt it after it was over. Somehow, someway, despite a mere difference in wording—or was it the approach?—this apology was better. But now he had all this pent up anger he didn't know where to place.
He decided to change the topic, and a sinister grin formed on his lips. "So, about your..."
"Oh, would you look at the time!" Ryou's face reddened once more as he feigned having a wristwatch, his nervous laugh turning into clearing his throat and then into coughing. "I have to get home. Let's discuss this later—better yet, let's forget about this, yeah?"
Mariku started laughing, the gravel of his voice now fine grains of sand.
Ryou turned on his heels and started walking away before he could feel any warmer inside.
Ah, thank Ra that's over.