I was feeling kind of insanely happy when I wrote this, so if you read the author notes before, you can ignore that. Anyways, warning for stupid dialogue.

"I like your eyes," Bakura said one day.

Ryou had looked at him questioningly, wondering why Bakura was making such queer jokes. "Why?" he asked, testing if Bakura could reply.

He seemed to take a lot of time to think, Ryou noted. Finally, Bakura's lips stretched into a wide, troublesome grin. "They're uglier than mine!" he laughed, loud enough that Ryou knew the whole school could hear.

Soft, long silky strands of hair curled messily about Ryou's hands as he ran them through his lover's hair, relishing in the texture. He sighed, letting the head fall onto his chest—steady, even breaths. Ryou knew she loved it.

Ryou was twenty one. He was married and happily so, especially when he thought that he would never get a lover. She was eighteen and young and beautiful and still in school like Ryou was. He was aiming to be some scientific profession that he can't quite remember when she sighed against his chest, and though they both had school tomorrow, he couldn't remember anything about it.

There was a knock at the door. Ryou laughed, standing up as he remembered just what he was supposed to be doing today, besides making out with his wife of course. "Kitchen, kitchen, kitchen," he called happily, and received a peck on the cheek before his wife left to prepare the exquisite dinner she'd promised. She wanted to be a cook, and was studying the subject in school.

The doorbell rang two more times, as if impatiently waiting for someone to answer. Ryou grinned as he went to do just that, happy to see his good friend from high school.

"Talk in my room!" Ryou greeted before Bakura could get out a word. Bakura's expression was hilarious—the corners of his lips and his eyes twisted into something like shock, comically whirling into confusion, then back again. Ryou laughed at that, leading Bakura up to his room. He didn't want to spoil the dinner surprise, after all.

"How have you been?" Ryou asked once they arrived, almost customarily. Bakura was grinning from ear to ear as he answered.

"Loney," he chirped. Ryou laughed again.

"I'm here to brighten up your life!" he snickered. "Want some bodily contact with that?"

"Please," Bakura replied. Ryou's grin was glowing—he loved joking with Bakura.

"How's school?" Ryou continued, sitting back on the bed he was on. Bakura's feet were planted firmly on the ground.

"I'm brilliant, as usual," he cackled.

"So you failed everything," Ryou concluded. Bakura laughed.

"We're fated to be together! You know me so well!" Bakura exclaimed dramatically. Ryou's stomach hurt from all the hysterical laughing Bakura was causing.

"When are you going to tell me anything true?" Ryou joked, managing to breathe. Bakura's smile widened.

"I've been telling you the truth! I'm lonely and I'm failing school!" he laughed, and finally, went to sit on the spot beside Ryou's on his bed.

"So, what's this reunion for?" Ryou asked, smiling.

Bakura's answer came a split second too slow. "I'm happy," he said, as if unsurely—"being here." At Ryou's silence, he shrugged carelessly, eyes staring forward. "You know."

The silence hung in the air. Ryou felt a heavy weight settle on his chest, as if he should be guilty of something, even though he knew he'd done nothing wrong.

"Wanna roll on the bed?" Bakura said suddenly, breaking the overwhelming silence. "Like the old times?" he made a comedic impression of two people tumbling together with his fingers in a messy display. Ryou laughed again, making Bakura grin widely.

"You're still such a horny teenager, Bakura," Ryou laughed, "but never got any woman!"

"...What if I didn't want woman, Ryou?" Bakura breathed. His voice was so wispy and quiet and unnerving that Ryou's laughing stopped abruptly; Bakura's face so close to his. Ryou didn't know why, but his mind was in a whirl, as if the things that he couldn't understand were suddenly injected into him from Bakura's brain, Bakura's heart, twisting his stomach into painful knots. Ryou knew the heart didn't feel, didn't think, but Bakura's eyes were staring right into his—

Bakura grinned.

Ryou's mind was finally back into control. He fell over laughing, holding his stomach that was still tied up in pain. Tears were coming out of his eyes, the force of reality having knocked him over. "Y-you're such a homo, Bakura!" Ryou laughed hysterically, gasping for breath.

"I'm a comedian, don't you know?" Bakura was saying lightly from beside him, and Ryou wondered how he was able to stop laughing so fast.

Ryou's laughing diminished long enough for him to stare up at Bakura's face, his eyes, and suddenly his chest tightened.

Bakura laughed at his expression. Ryou followed him, sitting up again.

His heart had never stopped its rapid beating.

-

When it was dinner time, Ryou gave his wife's seat to Bakura, since the table was only meant for two and they ate across from one another. His wife would seat closer to him, then, and Ryou didn't mind one bit.

The spoons and knives were set neatly on individual napkins. Bakura smiled easily, but his tone was disapproving. "Don't you use forks?" He asked teasingly, and Ryou instantly knew that he wanted Ryou to get one for him.

"Whatever do you use those for?" he said, as if in distaste. His expression broke into a grin when Bakura held out his hand.

"Give," Bakura commanded. Ryou rolled his eyes, standing up to get Bakura his desired eating utensil. I'm going to make sure he doesn't want it, he thought playfully to himself, the light, fun feeling of high school pranks on each other coming back to him.

After he got a fork, he sat back into his chair, noticing how Bakura's eyes were on the extra set of spoons and knives. "The chef's eating too," he told him.

Bakura nodded in understanding, then stared pointedly at the fork in Ryou's hands. "I thought you were going to give that to me," he deadpanned in a mockingly serious tone. Ryou grinned, slyly. He licked a side of the fork, staring straight into Bakura's widened eyes as he ran his tongue over the tip of the points.

"Still want that?" he asked mockingly. The thought that they had shared everything in high school flashed across his mind for the briefest of moments.

Bakura's grin formed slowly.

He pulled Ryou's hand—the one grasping the fork—to his lips, and Ryou watched in amusement when Bakura licked the same side of the fork that Ryou had. "You've settled the ownership," Ryou laughed. Bakura grinned and snatched the fork out of Ryou's hands, putting it beside the knife on his napkin.

The atmosphere was comforting. "So," Bakura started. "You have a chef?"

Ryou's smile was wide. "An aspiring cook, but that's always better."

"At least you admit that you would've burned everything yourself," Bakura smiled lazily in that confusing, interested display of affection.

Ryou made sure to back off slightly before he replied.

"And that's admirable to you, isn't it?" he joked.

After exchanging a few more words, Ryou heard the sounds in the kitchen stop. He could smell the delicious food all the way from the kitchen before it was brought out his wife, the plates wobbly in her inexperienced hands.

Ryou stood up, gratefully accepting the food, putting a plate on Bakura's side of the table. He sat back down and scooted closer to the side of his wife.

"This is the cook," he introduced proudly.

He kissed her on the lips, brought her into his arms. "She's my wife."

There was a long, painful silence. Something's wrong, Ryou noticed immediately, panic rising in his chest. Why wasn't Bakura answering? Did he not like her already? Did he not like her food?

Finally, Bakura responded. "...Thanks," he said shortly, "for the food."

Ryou smiled, if not worriedly, before deciding he should let the feeling pass. "Eat up then, everyone!" He turned again to his wife, giving her a small peck on the cheek. "You're wonderful," he praised in a whisper.

As his wife smiled happily at him, the weight in Ryou's chest grew.

The food was delicious, Ryou noted as he bit into the vegetables, as always. But he couldn't concentrate on it; the empty, horrid feeling nagging at his consciousness. He gulped down a piece of sausage, anxiety overwhelming him. I have to ignore this...

"So," he started. The sounds of eating stopped. Ryou gulped nervously. "...How...how is everyone today?"

"Great," his wife beamed.

Bakura was staring at his plate. "Fine."

Ryou laughed. "You just want to get back to your food, don't you," he teased. "I have to agree too, that it's delicious." He smiled at his wife. "You're brilliant."

After receiving an exaggerated kiss on the cheek, Ryou turned to Bakura, beaming. "You're so quiet." he grinned. "Aren't you enjoying the food?"

For a moment, Bakura was silent. His grip on the fork was lax, his worryingly blank expression visible, eyes staring down at nothing. Ryou suddenly found it hard to breathe. Something's wrong, he told himself repeatedly in a panic, waiting in almost fear for Bakura's reply. He wasn't excepting the answer.

Bakura's voice started out quiet. "...It's horrible."

Heart thumping wildly in his chest, Ryou gripped his wife's hand above the table, twitching back in fright and not understanding why when Bakura's eyes flicked to their entwined fingers. "W-what—?" he started, shakily. The blood rushed from his head to his eyes, and suddenly all he could see was red, the red and intensity of Bakura's maddening eyes. He could barely form coherent thought in his head, watching the way Bakura stood, knocking over his chair.

Bakura was grinning madly. "The food!" he exclaimed. Ryou's eyes darted to the fork in his trembling, white knuckled hands, and suddenly he didn't want to hear any more. "The food is fucking horrible!" Bakura laughed in a crazed, terrifying manner. He raised his hands then brought them down, and somehow all Ryou could think of was the sound of the fork hitting the table. When Bakura leaned forward to laugh in his face, all he could see was Bakura's hand—empty.

"Your wife is a fucking horrible cook," Bakura snarled.

My wife! Ryou suddenly remembered. His vision cleared, his panicking, frightened mind whirling all his confusion into anger as he stood. Finally, he could hear his wife sobbing beside him, and he put a shaking hand on her shoulder. His whole body was shaking—from barely restrained anger.

"Get out," he growled. Bakura laughed at that, leaning back and making a show of how much Ryou's words didn't matter to him. Ryou's eyes narrowed, and hearing his wife's frightened sobs, he snapped. "Leave!"

Bakura's skin was deathly pale, caught under the artificial lighting of Ryou's dining room, his whole body trembling with his fits of laughter and the tears from his eyes. "You're fucking halirious!" he laughed, clutching his stomach in a mocking display.

"Get the fuck out!" Ryou screamed. He noticed the fork on the table, and chucked it at Bakura's face, not wanting to see it anymore for a reason he couldn't remember. "Leave right now!"

Surprisingly, the fork slashed across Bakura's face successfully, three barely bleeding scars opening on his face. Bakura was laughing even harder, his face streaked with rolling tears. "Don't joke around like that, Ryou!" he said, laugh diminishing. Ryou watched, frozen, as Bakura took in several gasping deep breaths, growling like an animal when he finished, with the red streaks on his cheek like the paint on his face in high school when they promised each other they'd be friends forever...

I fucking hate you! He wanted to scream, to let Bakura know just how much he'd screwed up whatever he was trying to do. However, he kept quiet, frozen, because for some reason he still tried to convince himself it wasn't true. Instead, he turned back to his sobbing wife, sitting down beside her and giving her a warm embrace. "It's okay," he cooed, trying to comfort her in any way he could, "he's lying...your cooking is delicious..."

Ryou found himself staring at Bakura's trembling form and tearful eyes as he gave his wife the final assurance. "I love you..."

He turned back to his wife and gave her a kiss before standing up once again, walking to the door. "You know the way out," he said darkly.

Bakura wasn't laughing anymore.

Somehow, that was worse. Ryou's hands shook and he felt tears coming to his own eyes, his hands quivering the slightest bit as he unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Get out," he whispered, not understanding why he lacked the strength to kick Bakura out like he deserved, "I never want to see you again."

Ryou expected him to laugh, make a joke, or demand that Ryou stop lying to him, but all Bakura did was still for a moment before walking out the door as instructed. Ryou couldn't stop staring at the red streaks on his face and where they had come from, watching him walk down the dark road instead of slamming shut the door as he'd originally planned.

Eventually, he did close the door, however slowly. Bakura could remember the tears on Ryous face and the tears down his own, knowing that it was finally over, that Ryou never wanted to see him again. He would never have to peruse him ever again, because Ryou hadn't been his since the beginning.

"I like your hair, too," Bakura continued.

Ryou cracked up. "I love yours," he grinned.

Bakura had never been happier.

Someone help me beta or Bakura will keep getting owned by little girls!