A Means of Communication

Chapter 18: Love

"Who told you?" Ryou demanded.

"Jesus-fuck! Warn people when you decide to freak out," Bakura grumbled sourly.

Ryou grabbed the front of Bakura's shirt in urgency, his brown eyes wide. "Who told you? Yugi? Or Atemu?"

Normally Bakura would have been all too enthusiastic to have Ryou grab his shirt like that, but the effect was ruined by the mad irrationality in Ryou's pale expression.

Bakura, perhaps a little too strongly, shoved Ryou's hands away. "I looked. Money is public record. Leaves tracks when it moves and doesn't leave tracks when it doesn't."

Ryou's shoulders slumped a little. "Oh." Then, as though this were obvious, he started nodding slowly.

Bakura frowned. "What?"

Ryou tried to run a hand through his hair but failed because the tangles Bakura had created were still there. "Why would you look at my financial records?"

Bakura's glare turned to the blank television screen. "They were there and they were yours." This seemed to be a satisfactory enough reason.

The rock star could feel Ryou's amazed stare. "Oh..."

"Yeah well..." Bakura grumbled lamely. "It's not fair, right? Having to pay for your own life when you're not even out of high school?"

Ryou settled softly back onto Bakura's rigid shoulder, relaxing again. "You do it just fine."

Bakura glowered at his significant other. "It's not the same and you know it," he snapped harshly.

"Right," Ryou admitted, shamefully.

Glare sharpening, Bakura cupped Ryou's chin and directed the head to face him. "You should live with me."

Ryou's eyebrows rose, coolly "Um, no."

"Ah, yes," Bakura snapped.

"No," Ryou persisted and he jerked his head out of Bakura's control.

Bakura scowled. "Why? I would travel the world. You would have food and a bed every day. You'd never have to work again. And you'd be with me."

The muscles in Ryou's throat swallowed. "I can't leave. Even if I quit my job, my school is here, my friends. If my father were to come back he would expect me here."

"Fuck him," Bakura answered. "Fuck school. I want you with me."

Ryou grimaced. Did Bakura know what he was asking? Did he understand that they would see each every day? Did he know how painful it would be if they drifted apart, traveling on the same tour bus? "I can't travel with you, Bakura."

"Why not?" The question was surprisingly brittle and it made Ryou's insides quake. Did Bakura mean it?

Ryou curled himself against Bakura's resistant chest. His body's warmth was very reassuring, like... everything would actually work out.

'I'm being stupid,' Ryou told himself.

"Because I have responsibilities. I need to get an education," Ryou explained to Bakura's chest, his cheek up against Bakura's throbbing heart. "And this apartment is my responsibility to my father, my only family."

Bakura breathed loudly.

Ryou gulped and let the guitarist's musty, spicy scent envelope him. "I can't live with you yet."

"Yet?" Bakura questioned. If his voice hadn't been so shaky Ryou wouldn't have thought anything of it.

Instead, Ryou choked down his uncertainties. "When you come back from your tour, when I graduate high school, if we still... if we're still like this..."