A Means of Communication

Chapter 18: Love

"So Bakura? You really bought all the factories in the area to promote your new campaign on labor unions?" the reporter questioned excitedly.

"Wait for it," Bakura advised.

Ryou leaned into Bakura's chest, hands up over his mouth in anticipation. "Oh, I can't," he promised.

The Bakura on the television grimaced into the camera, barred his teeth and said, "Yes."

Ryou fell off his moth-eaten couch onto his crusty carpet in his hysterics, arms holding in his exploding sides.

Bakura scowled. "This is ridiculous. Now the world thinks I'm idiotic."

"What else were you- going to say- to them?" Ryou asked smartly, giggles impeding his speech. "The truth?"

"How about you blackmailed me?" Bakura suggested grimly.

Ryou got control of his breathing again, peering up at the gloomy rock star that leered at him. "But now your fans love you," Ryou pointed out positively. "And the government hates you, which makes your fans love you even more. Because you're creative, irrational and 'fighting the power'." Ryou giggled again.

Bakura's lip curled cruelly. "I think I liked you better when you were mopey."

"Then you would be mopey," Ryou countered simply.

Bakura scoffed. "You wish." Even though he knew it was true.

Ryou crawled back onto the couch, next to his contemptuous boyfriend. Bakura casually hooked an arm around Ryou's neck and dragged the teenage boy's down to the rock star's lap. It was a rough sort of affection.

"Ishizu's not going to kill you anymore because you got the band lots of neat publicity," Ryou added, head nestled comfortably on Bakura's folded legs.

Bakura's calloused fingers clawed through Ryou's hair distractedly and grunted to show that he was at least pretending to listen.

"You really didn't lose anything from this," Ryou concluded.

"Yes. Nothing, except my dignity."

Ryou shrugged carelessly. "That can always grow back."

The two sat like that in Ryou's dinky apartment for a while. Ryou staring up from the rock star's lap. Bakura's stiff face turned away as he mindlessly tangled Ryou's locks.

"Ryou," Bakura grunted.

Ryou made a noise.

"I want you to quit your job," Bakura ordered.

Ryou made a face and rolled his head away. "I can't do that."

"You hate it," Bakura stated. "It takes up all of your time. You're always busy."

Ryou pressed his teeth together, his expression no longer relaxed.

Bakura extracted his hands from Ryou's knotted white hair and then looked down fiercely at the teenager's turned face. "You don't need it."

"Yes, I do," Ryou retorted, words hard.

"What? Because of money? I have money," Bakura questioned.

"I'm not taking your money, Bakura," Ryou refused, eyes closing.

"You shouldn't be working for it either."

"I have no choice," Ryou said.

"Yeah, just cause your dammed father won't support you anymore?" Bakura cursed unkindly.

Then Ryou sat up so fast, Bakura had to jump so that their foreheads wouldn't collide.

"Fuck HELL, Ryou!" Bakura cursed loudly, falling back against the couch.