Author's Note: I'm really stupid because I had myself CONVINCED I had updated this story fairly recently.

Apparently, this isn't the case.

Anyway, I graduated high school in the meantime. It's weird being an actual adult. XD

Also, someone (who's username and such I can't recall) graced me with some glorious fanart for this fic! They're awesome, and if you're reading this right now, please PM me so I can edit the chapter and give you credit.

Anyhow, the focus of the story is going to shift to Bakura now, so we'll be getting his point of view.

Accordingly, did you notice every paragraph I've written so far begins with an "a"? Yeah, I didn't either—until just now. Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 10

Bakura had not spoken to Ryou in days. Those days felt like years. And those years felt like millenniums. He was usually an incredibly patient person, but something about Ryou's presence was irreplaceable. Bakura spent endless hours wandering around his apartment—scratching red marks onto manuscripts, sipping "tea," practicing his non-existent violin skills, rinse and repeat. It all felt entirely pointless now, which was hard to admit to himself.

At one point, Bakura had phoned Mai to ask about messages, but even she seemed to be ignoring him and outright refused to answer. Either that or it was after hours and she'd gone home… Bakura had never tamed a reasonable sleep schedule, and clocks were overrated. Being on a fifth cup of "tea" didn't help matters either.

After the third day, Bakura finally realized he was being utterly ridiculous. He swept all the half-edited manuscripts off his desk and into his briefcase, convinced going back into work would be a good distraction.

Even so, Bakura may have been ready for work, but work wasn't ready for Bakura.

"Where the hell is Mai?" Bakura barked, seeing that his assistant truly was slacking off, because she was nowhere to be seen as he walked towards his office.

"Um…" An intern swiveled his head around the corner sheepishly. "She said she was busy today…"

Bakura growled but didn't have enough energy to pick at the issue further. He simply stumbled into his office and took his usual seat.

"Busy, is she…?" Bakura grumbled. "Of course she is…" He riffled through a couple of his drawers until he finally uncovered his calendar—which was as disorganized as his apartment, for the record. It was covered in scribbles and had little multi-colored sticky notes poking out of numerous pages.

Bakura flipped through it until he spied the correct month and began to look over his week slowly, trying to pinpoint what event could Mai so damn "busy."

Suddenly, the editor sharply inhaled.

There, written in bold letters and underlined three consecutive times by himself, was the event that was a death sentence to forget.

Authors' Conference—important. DO NOT FORGET.

What irony.

Bakura slapped the calendar shut and grappled for his coat. Ryou had already made it very clear that she wanted no part in that conference, but Bakura didn't have the luxury of a choice in the matter. If she wasn't going to promote her book there, he was going to have to for her. There was just no other option.

The conference was being held in the city center, a large, important-looking pavilion. Local and mostly not incredibly well known authors were to speak, and national, and even in some cases, international authors came to promote the their lesser-known protégés and fellow writers. Of course, the public, simple readers and sometimes editors and the like, attended as well. Not being there to promote your imminent book release was a death sentence to your sales.

Bakura could not let that happen to Ryou. Not after all her hard work. And there was the matter of his own situation…

There were only a few minutes left to the beginning of the conference as Bakura rushed into the building. He was stopped momentarily at security, but he was through in a flash. He'd been to this very conference a myriad of times, so he knew just what to do and just where to go.

The room was packed. Along with the famous authors and the public, several members of the press had made an appearance as well. Bakura wasn't shocked—Domino City was only known for a couple key things, and talented local authors happened to be one of them.

Looking out on the crowd, Bakura wasn't entirely devoid of the feeling he knew Ryou felt whenever she thought about facing this massive audience. It didn't help that Bakura would have to improv his endorsement of Ryou's book, seeing as he had forgotten about the conference completely. But, gazing at all of these cameras and faces, Bakura did, if only momentarily, understand Ryou's feelings of dread.

"Can we quiet down please?" a women on the stage before the audience commanded from the podium. The microphone sitting atop the tall table gave a high-pitched squeal, as if nervous itself, which was effective in hushing the crowd. "Thanks," the lady mumbled and then stepped aside.

Next, another women, this one fiercer-looking and with a sharp glare, swiftly ushered everyone to sit and started to speak.

"Thank you for joining us," she began, adjusting her collar. "I'm overjoyed to see that we have the largest amount of people at our conference that we've ever seen—a huge achievement." There was polite applause. And even though she claimed she was overjoyed, Bakura felt she was too stiff and humorless to be anything above indifferent. Then again, maybe she was as much a nervous wreck as Ryou and just compensated for it in very different ways…

"Yes, yes, settle down…" the speaker drawled, adjusting her librarian style glasses.

Settle down? Bakura thought. This lot couldn't possibly be more subdued. I pray for someone to go up there and get these people excited.

"Then, we'll be moving on to our seasonal book promotions by their very own writers." The woman squinted down at a list and read into the microphone, "The first author we'll be hearing from is one Ryou Bakura, speaking about her sequel book to the always popular Enama's Sacrifice."

I'll just tell them she caught a cold or something. Yes, they'll believe that… Bakura began writing up a simple speech in his head. I'll give a synopsis and say a few nice words. Then I'll transition to what it means to be a writer—or in my case an editor—and call it a day. Yes, perfect. That should cover everything as quickly and efficiently as possible.

"Let us welcome our first author on stage with a round of applause."

Bakura stood up, but at the same time, someone else did too.

He didn't mean to sit back down. Perhaps it was due to sheer shock, but Bakura folded back down into his seat before hardly anyone could notice he had ever attempted to take the floor. However, the editor snapped out his daze rather quickly.

"Why the hell—?"

"Shuuuush!" Another person bumped into Bakura's side, effectively cutting him off. "Don't interrupt a lady's speech! That's rude!"

"Marik?" Bakura blinked repeatedly at the man. "You want to tell me why Ryou is walking up there or what she's even doing here?"

"Shhhuuuuussshhhh!" Marik was just being obnoxious at this point, and it was clear he was loving every minute of Bakura's astonishment. "Just sit there and shut up, because she's starting!" Marik forced Bakura's head to face the stage, and the two watched as Ryou organized some papers and cleared her throat.

"I… uh…" Ryou cleared her throat again, which seemed unnecessary. "I… wasn't going to speak today… in front of all of you…"

Bakura could tell she was getting caught up in all of the lights and stares. If she didn't snap out of it quickly, it would reflect poorly on her. It took every ounce of Bakura's strength not to spring up and take over for her. In fact, he might of, had Marik's hand not been wound so damn tight around his wrist…

Ryou looked down at all her notes, thought a moment, and then silently turned them over. "Look…" she muttered. "I had this whole speech planned and everything, but I just want to speak to you now… from the heart." Suddenly, her attention was placed solely on Bakura. He was startled but too fascinated to look away.

"I have this friend…" Ryou started up again. "He's a great friend—he kind of drives me crazy, but he's still a great friend. When he read my story…" She swallowed but regained the momentum. "… he said he didn't consider my book 'profound literature.' But he also said he enjoyed it anyway." Ryou smiled, and Bakura knew it was genuine. "And that's what is great about stories. They don't have to change the world… They just have to affect one person. And if my work has affected even one person… well… I think then my job is done.

"My first book, Enama's Sacrifice, was a way of mourning my little sister after I lost her. And after finishing the book, I thought, 'Okay, that's it. I'm done with writing. And, also, I'm done with being sad about Amane.' But then…" Ryou's eyes glistened, but her tone didn't waver. "But then I guess I realized self-consciously that I hadn't exactly gotten over it. I mean, you can't really 'get over' a person's death anyway. It just… gets easier… somehow." Ryou took a deep breath.

"So then I started writing the sequel, Enama's Legacy. And, yes, it's exactly about what you think it's about. But it has a bit of a surprise ending… Mostly because I surprised myself." Ryou laughed, though it was a bit forced. "That friend I mentioned earlier… He really is the greatest. He was going through something kind of difficult too—not a death in the family or anything that big. But still, it was something not-so-pleasant." She stared right at Bakura again. "I really have to thank him. He spent all his time focused on me, even though he really should have been focused on himself.

"Anyway, I never expected my first book to actually be a hit. I've kind of resented becoming a local celebrity because I'm… shy… But now I think I'm starting to like it, actually. It's an unfamiliar feeling, but not an unwelcomed one." She smiled again, this time more natural. "I really hope you read my sequel, and if you haven't checked out my first book, I hope you read that one too. It'll be like taking a little journey with me into self-discovery.

"So… Thanks so much for having me."

The conference room exploded into ovation, clearly pleased with Ryou's speech. Bakura, however, was stunned silent. It was the oddest feeling he had ever endured—he'd always been alone and unappreciated, and yet here he was, being acknowledged and thanked by someone in front of an entire audience.

When he finally resurfaced from his thoughts, Ryou was already off the stage. She slipped out the doors, and it didn't take more than a few seconds for Bakura to scramble after her.

The editor found himself outside, blinded by pale sunlight. It felt like he had been starved of sun for years, but he knew for a fact that it'd only been about ten minutes.

Then, Bakura spotted her. Ryou was already across the street, where a park sat before the pavilion. She was teetering on the edge of a water fountain, heaped over and staring at the ground intensely.

Bakura was at her side in an instant, and he soon realized she was fighting back a cascade of tears.

"Oh, my God… Ryou, are you all right?" Bakura reached his hands out, but he soon retracted them. He had absolutely no idea what to do in a situation like this. Emotional breakdowns were not his strong suit, and he had never had to console a friend like this… Hell, he never had a friend to console.

"Yeah… Yeah, actually I'm great!" Ryou looked up, and even though her face was shiny from the tears, she was smiling openly. "I feel goddamn amazing right now. Did you see that? Did you see that, Bakura? I was unbelievable!"

"You were! You really were!" Bakura didn't know what to say. He just swayed there in front of her awkwardly, trying to figure out what he should do.

Ryou sighed, and it seemed like all of the tension left her body all at once. "Wow… That was just… Wow."

Bakura swallowed, grasping for the words. Finally, he settled on a question: "Ryou… Why? Why did you do it? You were so against speaking at that conference, and you… Why?"

Ryou folded her hands and stared up at the editor innocently. "Oh, you know… Marik and Mai told me everything."

"Everything… Meaning…?"

Ryou suddenly got very serious. "They told me about how you hadn't published a book in years… About how you were so stubborn about finding just the right book that you turned down countless novels and ended up getting in real trouble with your boss… About how you were going to have to move back to England if you didn't pick a book, stick with it, and make it a success by the end of the summer."

"Oh… That everything."

"Yeah." Ryou pushed herself up and looked directly at Bakura. "Why didn't you just tell me? Why didn't you just pick an author? Or a book? And, for Christ's sake, why are you… so… STUBBORN?"

"I…" Bakura didn't have a suitable answer. It was like when Ryou confronted him after he kissed her that night during their alliteration duel. He didn't have a good reason… He just did what he did because… Because…

Ryou finally broke the stare and sighed. "I know why. Because you're Bakura. And you're just doing what Bakuras do." Ryou pretended to push up a pair of imaginary reading glasses. "Oh, look at me—I'm Bakura. I'm a big dumb idiot who's stupidly proud and obstinate. Whoopity-do."

Beside himself, Bakura chuckled.

Ryou just shook her head. "Look," she stated, "I still don't know that much about you. I don't know why you don't want to go back to England so much. I don't understand why you put gin in your tea. I cannot fathom why you own a violin when you can't even play—!" Bakura burst into laughter once more. "Listen! Just listen to me!" The writer sighed again. "But, you see… I do understand one thing. I understand that, if I let you get shipped away to another country and I never see you again, it'll be the worst mistake I ever made. So… I couldn't let that happen."

Bakura didn't have a single thing to say to that.

Ryou dug into her pocket and pulled out the notes she never used. "Mai and I wrote this together. Well… Mostly she wrote it, and I supervised. I feel sort of bad for not using it…" She returned the papers to their designated spot. "Marik was in charge of getting you here if you decided to skip it. He reported that you forgot all about it but remembered just in time." Under her breath, she added, "Good thing you made it, because I would not be able to replicate that."

Bakura couldn't comment; he could only stare at Ryou in awe. The author wiped her face with the back of her sleeves a couple times. "How's that? Does it look like it never happened?"

"Yes, you look… You look fine. Perfect, even." Bakura was starting to get his voice back. "Your speech was… perfect. And you… are perfect."

This time, it was Ryou who was thrown off guard. Her face flushed, and she fixed her eyes on the concrete. "Well… It's not over yet. The book still needs to sell. And I mean really sell. Your boss informed me he wouldn't keep you employed at the firm unless Enama's Legacy made the local best seller's list. Now, I may be a good author, but now it's down to marketing, and I think our best plan of action is to—"

A familiar feeling of warmth spread over Ryou's lips. She recognized what was happening almost immediately, but seeing was not always believing.

To be fair, Bakura wasn't much better. He didn't get it. He didn't get any of it. He didn't get it then, and he didn't get it now. But it just felt so right. Damn everything—it just felt so very, very right. To hell with reasons. To hell with analyzing every action and every word. This very moment in its mundane simplicity was perfect.

The kiss dissolved into a hug within a minute. The two could hear that either other's hearts that were beating faster than they would probably ever admit, and there was something intimate in that too.

"So… We should seriously go back to that conference," Ryou mumbled into Bakura's coat. "We need to do some serious advertising."

"Agreed." But Bakura wasn't ready to leave the comfortable warmth. He smirked into her ashen hair. "… You first."

"No, after you."

"Ladies first."

"Look, I insist."

"Don't argue with your editor."

"Don't argue with your author!"

"…"

"…"

"On the count of three."

"'Kay."

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"Three—! Hey, you cheated! You freaking cheater! Let go of my hand!"

"I think not!"

"Bakura, come on!"

"Never. You're going to hold my hand, and you're going to like it."

"Ugh! I hate you!"

"Your words wound me."

"Now there's the Bakura I know and loathe. Good to have you back, you loveable bastard."

-transition-

Bakura had been up half the night. Ever since he had moved in with Ryou, and the two had been challenging each other to go outside their comfort zones in terms of writing. Bakura challenged Ryou to write something historical, and Ryou had challenged Bakura to write a romance. After a month or two of emerging himself in the genre, he was finally starting to set down the foundation for a great quixotic love story. It didn't hurt that he had a nice romance to base it off right in front of him as well…

Nevertheless, Bakura was exhausted. An hour—if he could just get an hour of sleep, he could get right back up and start writing again.

But just as he began to drift to sleep, a certain someone sprinted into the bedroom and began to bounce on the mattress.

"Bakura! You…! Gotta…! Get…! Up…!" Ryou enunciated with jump.

"Why… the hell… should I?" Bakura articulated back to her in the same pattern, pulling a pillow over his head.

"Because I just got back from the bookstore, and they finally had it! The best seller list is out!"

Bakura was instantly attentive. He bolted up, messy bed-head hanging over his eyes. "Did you read it yet?" he inquired quietly.

"Of course not, you idiot! I was waiting for you!" Ryou dropped the paper in front of him hurriedly. "Well, come on! Read it!"

"You show admirable restraint for not having read it without me," Bakura commented, unfolding the list.

"And you have too fancy a vocabulary for it being so early in the morning!" the writer snapped. She rubbed her eyes restlessly. "Seriously, you better read it now, or I'll start to lose it."

Bakura chuckled. "All right, all right." He snatched his reading glasses from the nightstand and began to examine the list.

"So… What does it say?"

"… It seems I'll have to take my belongings out of storage after all."

"Does that mean—?"

"Yes… It means I'll be living with you permanently, because your book is certainly on this best seller list."

"You jerk!" Ryou shook Bakura back and forth like she was angry, but her smile gave it all away. "You had me convinced for a moment you were going to have to move back to England and leave me here all by my lonesome!"

Bakura feigned offense. "Oh, so you weren't going to follow me if that happened?"

"Look, I love you, but I have to draw the line somewhere," Ryou teased. She hopped up and transitioned, "Well, I think we should celebrate."

"Indeed. Champagne, perhaps?" Bakura got up accordingly, albeit slower and with a yawn.

Ryou pulled back her sleeve to reveal a watch. "It's eight in the morning, and you want to drink?"

Bakura waved his hand unconcernedly. "There's no too-early time to have a drink with your significant other over a major accomplishment."

Ryou sighed. "Well, when you put it like that…"

"And I do." Bakura took up the other's hand. "Well, now that this ordeal is over and done with, I'm ready to move on to bigger and better things."

Ryou abruptly blushed, which only left Bakura confused. "Like what?" she asked softly.

"Like writing more books…?" Bakura raised an eyebrow at her. "What did you think I was talking about?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all," Ryou insisted, but her face grew a few shades redder nonetheless.

Author's Note: *Captain Jack Sparrow voice* A wedding! I love weddings! Drinks all around!

This concludes Only An Allusion—to date the only FanFiction I've ever actually finished. I really hope you guys enjoyed it, and I'm really impressed if you stuck with me through it this whole time.

Just as Ryou said, if this story has affected even one person, my mission is complete. Thank you all again, and I hope to come out with some new stuff real soon.

Bye-bye and please review.