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CatagelophobiaRyou hated days like today.
The air outside chilled him to the bone, and the freezing November rain only helped the process along. Ryou pulled his paper thin, light blue jacket closer to his shivering body, giving a shaky sigh as he realized how little good it was doing him. His tiny apartment was still at least five minutes away, and the rain was showing no sign of letting up.
And yet, this wasn't what made this day terrible. Or any of the days during that rainy week, for that matter. It was-
Yadonushi. A cold voice in the back of his mind, eerily similar to his own, had returned. They hurt you again.
Ryou gritted his teeth, hoping to simultaneously end the cold and the spirit. "I'm fine, Bakura." The words, however, were spoken with a tinge of uncertainty, Ryou's true thoughts shining through his words. They had hurt him, not with fists, but with words. Words that were colder than the falling rain, stinging him like ice. It terrified him, really, the idea that simple word
Here With You, Here Without You 2A week passed, and eventually the day of the funeral for Ryou had come. Up until this point, other than the time Marik had spent planning the event, he had spent most of the time curled up under his blanket, the numbness still overtaking him. Ryou's death still wasn't real yet. Marik still half- expected to wake up and feel Ryou's thin arms around him, to feel the warmth his body would leave behind when he rose to cook breakfast for the two of them. Marik had been laying face down on Ryou's side of the bed, breathing in the quickly fading smell of Ryou's lilac shampoo. And the note. He had been reading that almost constantly as well.
Despite the fact that Ryou had specifically said not to blame himself, Marik couldn't help it. If he had been even a little bit faster in getting to where Ryou had slit his wrists, maybe he could have saved him.
So now, Marik was standing in front of the place where, only hours before, Ryou had been buried. Flowers of all different colors and shapes filled
Here With You, Here Without You 1Marik was sitting in an old, filthy alleyway in the pouring rain, holding the body of his lover.
Blood ran through his fingers, holding the limp wrists. He knew it was useless to stop the blood flow at this point, but he couldn't move a single muscle. The crimson liquid dripped onto the concrete ground, mixing in with the water and turning it a pinkish color. It was his blood. His blood. The person he loved most in this world.
He wanted to cry, but he couldn't. Everything was still too new to him, still shocking him, even though it had been close to an hour since he had found the note.
He isn't dead. Marik gritted his teeth and held back a scream. He wouldn't do this. But the rain continued to chill him, and the body in his arms was not becoming any less lifeless. It wasn't a dream, no matter how he looked at it. He had been too late.
Ryou was dead.
And he wasn't coming back.
Finally, reality set in, and Marik allowed himself to sob.
"You liar," he whispered. "You said you w
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