When I Said, "Someone Fuck Me," I Didn't Mean Life

Chapter 02 | Do

Bakura leaned back in his chair and looked around the kitchen. It didn't feel real. The pale blue cupboards, the pancake cooking in the pan, the stains on the white roof. He wasn't meant to be there. Bakura closed his eyes. "I don't want you to do anything," he whispered. "Just play a game with me every now and again." And stay up so Bakura didn't fall asleep.

A timer buzzed, and Ryou stood up to check the pancake. He placed it on a plate and then filled the pan with mixture again. He set the plate down in front of Bakura, and handed him a knife and fork. Bakura took them but didn't start to eat. Not yet.

Ryou gripped the handle of the pan, knuckles white, even though it sat stationary on the hob. "I think you should go to see someone," he muttered into the pancake. Bakura's breath caught. "A counsellor or a psychiatrist or- or something. You need to get help."

Bakura dropped his fork onto the table. Ryou flinched at the noise. "I'm the one that needs help with your shitty dad?"

"I never said I don't need it." Ryou's jaw set as if Bakura had called him landlord again. "What I'm saying is that you need help too. Bakura, you've hardly left the apartment in months. You got a job with Kaiba specifically so you would never need to talk to anyone at work."

"And there's something wrong with that?" Bakura's lip curled up. "My apologies, love; I didn't realise that earning treble my last wage was a bad thing. I'll hand in my notice."

"Don't do that!" Ryou turned on him, eyes flashing, nose scrunched by his furrowed eyebrows. "Don't twist my words like that. That's not what I mean and you know it." He had a thing about people twisting his words. "You sit and stare at the wall for hours at a time without doing anything else. You wake up screaming nearly every night and you won't tell me what you're dreaming about. You-" Ryou took a slow breath and sank into his seat again. "You need to talk to someone."

Bakura's nails dug into the palms of his hands. "What I need-" He looked up at Ryou. "-is for you to stay out of my business. I don't need to talk to anyone, least of all some whack doctor." He pushed away from the table.

"Where are you going?" Ryou sighed.

"Out." He could go out if he wanted to. Fuck Ryou. Fuck everything he said. There was nothing wrong with Bakura. He stormed over to the door and yanked his boots on.

Ryou followed him to the door and leaned against the wall. "Where?"

"I don't fucking know." Bakura tied his laces and pulled the door open. "Eat your breakfast and go to work or something." He stuffed the key into his pocket. "It's not like you wanted me back either, so you shouldn't care what happens to me."

He saw Ryou's eyes widen and his face pale, but slammed the door before any tears could fall. His own eyes burned. It was true. Ryou hated him, and he knew it. Everyone hated him. Everyone should hate him.

He dragged his feet as he made his way down the street. He didn't deserve any of the help he was getting. He deserved to go back to the shadows. He squeezed his eyes shut. His throat was burning, and too tight for him to breathe. What had Ryou said to do when that happened- no, Ryou wasn't meant to help him.

Bakura slumped into a bench and tried to control his breath. His arms seized up, too tight. It hurt to move them. Something was coming. Something was coming. He opened his eyes, looking around. Where was it? Something coming. Coming. He pressed a hand to his face. It was meant to calm him down - the touch - but his hand tensed, needed something harsher. His nails pushed his lip against his teeth and he curled in.

Too much. He was taking up too much space. It was too much.

"Hey."

Bakura tried to react. He tried. But he was stuck - stuck in the air like that damn Priest had trapped him in something, compressing him. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe.