dysfunctional
yuugiou fanfiction
ryuujitsu & co.

Disclaimer: Saying we own Yuugiou is like saying geese are flightless birds.

A/N: So today I was kissed on the cheek by my muses, three very fantastic mademoiselles. And here is a very short drabble, in the style of my "short and prolific drabbles" as TRT-sama says. For Yukari. Les drogues sont mauvaises pour la santé!

-

Yeah, maybe I did. It was fun. The words are said teasingly, even a bit defiantly, and they reverberate inside Ryou's skull. The vibrations form a dark smile behind his eyes and he shudders and passes a hand reflexively over his brow, as if the motion will stifle the echoes down the corridors of his mind. He hates the echoes because they are misleading; they convey the image of an empty mind and he knows that his is anything but.

When he speaks, he looks at his reflection in the mirror, directly into his own eyes and not the ring that hangs about his neck like a leaden weight. "I don't care," he says. "It's my body too. It was my body in the beginning."

The demon in his head seems vaguely irritated. It was my body three thousand years ago, and it is mine again.

Ryou glares at himself and brushes his hand over his forehead again with a shiver. "Why destroy it, then? You lost your chance three thousand years ago. This time is mine—don't you dare fuck me over." It is one of the fiercer things he has said to the spirit since their joining. The demon laughs, and Ryou hears the laughter and feels it too—a hearty pervasive resonance deep within his skull.

I'll do what I wish,the demon says, like brambles on silk.

"This is my body," says Ryou loudly, almost shouting, watching as the veins under his chin begin to bulge, "and this is my mind. You'll do what I say, what I think, what I want."

The laughter is back and he feels a migraine building like a storm near the base of his skull, rumbling in the distance. Landlord, landlord, I pay my rent on time, don't I? I do exactly what you want.

Ryou sees something pass behind his eyes in varying shades of red and pink and white, he sees the baring of teeth and his own opened mouth, hands formed into claws and a body convulsing beneath another. The migraine is upon him, relentless. He sinks to the ground and inhales and exhales, and thinks Stop, stop, I hate you stop STOP.

"I won't." The voice is his but not quite, issuing from his own mouth. His tongue twists around the words as though he is eating a bitter lemon. He sees himself in eyes that are, for the moment, no longer his: a boy hunched and huddled on the floor, grimacing painfully. "I am here and I am the stronger one; I will do as I please. It is in your favor, dear landlord, that I enjoy your company so very much—"

Ryou retreats. He is running as fast as his legs will carry him through the maze that is his mind, away from the migraine and the strange power that holds his body transfixed.

Landlord, I wasn't finished yet.

The echoes are huge, ringing all around him, buffeting him in waves and rendering him senseless with their volume. I don't care if you weren't finished, Ryou screams at the ceiling with his hands over his ears, trying to make his own vibrations heard. I don't care who you are and I don't love you and I want you out, I want you bloody gone—

Surely you can't mean that? says the spirit, quiet and dangerous. Ryou trembles and nods violently, and thinks, does he really mean it?

Yesyesyes.

Moments later he is standing by the mirror, steadying himself against the wall with one hand. For one glorious pause he thinks it has worked, that somehow he has regained his body and his mind, and then as his senses return one by one he feels again the deadweight of that horrible ring around his throat.

What about tonight, murmurs the demon, this time like black satin on silk. He makes the offer grandly as though doing Ryou a favor and it coats Ryou's mind in liquid and instant comfort—all has been forgiven.

Ryou continues the facade. He rubs his temples and wonders why the antipsychotics aren't working. "I'm going to get rid of you soon," he says to the spirit, very firmly and very sincerely, even though they both know he doesn't and can't mean a word of it.

fin

A/N: I wonder what they were talking about in the beginning. . .drugs, piercings, booze? Hmm. . .well, hope you liked it. Review?