Straightjacket~Deathshipping

Chapter SEVEN

I really am stupid, I thought, pulling my keys out of my pocket. Still, I was riding on a cloud of joy, for whatever reason. Then again, I should've been used to the thrills Melvin allowed. He satisfied me with those eyes, that low voice.

Inside, all the lights were off, loneliness pervading everything. I sighed, dropping into the couch, that happy spark fizzing away. Since I'd gotten the locks changed, Bakura was over about once a week. Never, though, did I let him inside, afraid of potential consequences.

My body drooped now, sliding into the couch as I switched on a lamp, shivering. Maybe I should've gotten a cat, or someone waiting for me at home. Then I wouldn't be so alone all the time, giving me a reason to hurry home, rather than slouch and dilly-dally the way along.

As it was, however, there wasn't a way for me to afford cats or prostitutes (or whatever someone was called who got paid to wait for a childish therapist at his home).

Half-asleep in stupid thoughts, I heard but didn't comprehend the importance of my front door opening and slamming. What I did hear, though, was the harsh timbre of Bakura's voice approaching closer each instant.

"You'll catch a cold sleeping on the couch, Ryou." He was above me, brown eyes shooting warning signals to my brain.

I didn't move, didn't reply, tried not to blink or breathe. After moments of staring at each other, I sighed, the shake I expected not there. "Why are you here?"

"Stupid question; to see you, obviously." He sat beside me, putting an arm around my shoulders. I pulled it off, scootching away.

"That's nice, but," I said, now standing, "no thank you. Isn't your boyfriend waiting for you at home?"

"Marik and I broke up," he said. Bakura also stood, seizing me by the arms, countenance shadowing over. "Stop playing games, Ryou."

Trembles began following my spine as my fingers groped the table behind me. "Bakura, I'm not playing. It's over. Now, please, let go of me, go home, find someone else."

"You're the only one," he said, voice falling, head tucking to plant kisses over my throat. I tried, fruitlessly, to jerk away, still searching with my limited mobility for the item on the table. Found it.

"Bakura. . .!" I turned my head from a sudden attempted kiss. "Stop it, or I'll call the police!'

I brandished the mobile at him, one number already typed in. A nasty grimace covered Bakura's face before he let go, backing toward the door. "You'll realise," he said. "You'll see it, Ryou."

Then I was alone again. But this time, I didn't mind so much.