- long notes -
(stop grumbling; they come before every long-ish story, and you know it. ^^)
This is actually an offshoot from "Giddy Like Schoolgirls," but you don't need to have read it to understand this story – it stands on its own. The only reasons it's related to that story is A) Yami was nowhere to be found throughout the entire fic, and after much searching we discovered him in Bakura's bed; and B) Ryou's comment about not knowing anything about "healthy relationships." So… this is what happened.
The title comes from the song "Gramarye" by Remy Zero – it's an absolutely awesome song! I don't know if the song itself applies to the story (it's a bizarre song, and interpretation isn't a big strong point of mine, so I'm not so sure I fully understand it), but the line "chains that define who I am" reminded me of Ryou in this story. That and there seems to be a seductive undertone to the whole song. Anyway, if you can get a hold of the song, I'd highly suggest it; it's on the Stigmata soundtrack, or you could just download it. ^^
It was really cute that Jounouchi loved Yuugi, but watching them together made Ryou a little jealous. Okay, a lot jealous. It wasn't his fault, and it wasn't their fault, it was just that he had never known love like that. The closest thing he had to lovers were more interested in each other than him, and they didn't really love him; he was more of their side-game, someone to do when things got a little dull. He sighed and looked out the window, ignoring the noises coming from the room to his left. His bedroom. Well, his and Bakura's bedroom, but Bakura did most of his sleeping in the room that Yami stayed in, so Ryou had gone back to thinking of it as his own. He made a small noise of defiance, a half-formed protest against his own despairing thoughts.
It wasn't like he loved them either.
Ryou sighed again – he sighed a lot, maybe a little too often – and went for his keys, his jacket; he needed a walk. He didn't want to stay in the house and listen to Yami and Bakura go at it as though their very lives depended on it. Not to mention if he didn't hear the noises he didn't have to anticipate how much of a mess his room would be in the morning. As he left, locking the door behind him, he looked at his surroundings and sighed. He really wished that he still had his apartment.
He and Bakura had lived in the apartment until about two months previous; Bakura had decided that he didn't like having neighbors so close. Actually, Ryou remembered the deciding incident clearly, no matter how fuzzy Bakura's memory of it seemed to be. They'd been getting calls from neighbors for a couple weeks – particularly the nice old lady who lived below them. Everyone suspected that Ryou was getting beaten, all because he had some questionable bruises he had once. Only once. He was too shy to explain that he had acquired said bruises in bed, and Bakura had never done anything like that again. It seemed a little too weird to say in casual conversation: "Oh, he got a little rough in bed, but the second he realized that I was crying he stopped. Really, it's never happened again."
It was true; Ryou had tried his damnedest not to cry, but he wasn't like Bakura, he couldn't enjoy it. Bakura had never laid a hand on him, not maliciously. Unfortunately, he never told anyone that.
One night the neighbors had apparently had enough of Ryou's screaming – screams they had completely misinterpreted – and called the cops; the cops in turn decided to come check out the domestic abuse call. First, Bakura had answered the door nude: he lacked all tact like that. Ryou blushed when he remembered how he had to run up behind Bakura and wrap him in a blanket – unfortunately all that Ryou had been able to grab as he ran out of the bedroom. Then, when the cop asked what was going on, Bakura didn't hesitate to answer, "We were fucking; is that a crime now?"
The cop must have invented a new shade of red – even Ryou had never blushed that dark. The cop stammered something about keeping it down, disturbing the peace and such, and all but ran back to the elevator. The next day Bakura announced that he was going to find them a house. Somehow he had, within a week – one story, with a good amount of space between them and their closest neighbors. Ryou had never asked what Bakura did to procure such a place; he didn't really want to know if the original owner was buried in the backyard – or worse. The only complaint Ryou had was the distance from the city; it was a bit of walk to see his friends. Bakura only smirked and said that he'd have to stay home more often.
At first that hadn't seemed so bad. For a month, maybe two, it was just fine with Ryou – he still went to school, he still saw his friends… just less often. Of course, all good things – well, as good as Ryou could consider them; his relationship with Bakura was intensely warped – had to come to an end. In his particular case, that good thing ended when Bakura brought Yami home.
Sometimes Ryou wondered what had driven Bakura to hop in bed with Yami of all people. Maybe it was when Ryou had cried in bed; Bakura had stormed off that night, and it only made sense for him to seek a much less breakable form of release. At any rate, he had hoped Yami's stay would be a temporary, some sort of twisted one-night-stand… but one night turned into a month, and Ryou accepted that Yami wasn't going to be leaving any time soon. Not that Yami never left – he went back to Yuugi all the time – but he spent most of his time around the house. And so the three of them fell into something of a pattern.
Yami had a room, and Ryou never touched it when he cleaned (he didn't clean often as it was). When it came to cleaning up after himself, Yami was no better than Bakura. In fact, they both tended to be crude, stuck up, and completely useless. If Ryou were more deluded he would have wondered why he stayed. But he knew why he stayed.
Bakura. It was no lie to say that he didn't love 'them'. Together, he didn't love either of them; they made his life a living hell, whether they meant to or not. But alone, Bakura… Well, Ryou had the misfortune of being in love with Bakura when Yami wasn't nearby. It was a pity that Bakura didn't seem to possess the depth to love – sometimes he seemed like some sort of Neanderthal. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. Eat again. Sleep some more.
Ryou never claimed to have good taste.
But even if Bakura didn't love Ryou, he was at least very possessive of him. Yami hadn't been with them two days when Bakura had very firmly laid down the rules. Yami wasn't allowed to touch Ryou unless Bakura was around and said it was okay, and even when Bakura was around, Yami was never allowed to take him – apparently that was a right reserved for Bakura alone.
Ryou obeyed the rules. He didn't want Yami inside him in any way, shape, or form. Frankly, he wasn't sure how Yuugi handled having Yami's voice in his mind. The only thing Ryou liked about Yami was his hands, his body, maybe his mouth – in the dark, when Bakura was doing things just as obscene, and Ryou didn't know who was doing what.
Then he didn't mind Yami so much.
Somehow in all his walking, Ryou had only ended up back at home. He must have been like a cat – he could wander as far as he wanted, but automatically his feet would always take him back where he belonged. Even if he wasn't happy, even if he felt like he was falling apart at the seams, it was exactly his place in life. He fit it way too perfectly.
They were still at it when Ryou entered the living room – they were always so loud! – but he ignored them and set to picking up laundry.
He heard Bakura shout – something obscene, probably insulting, but laced with passion nonetheless – and he mourned, throwing the laundry balled in his hands at the wall. He stared at the wall as though his predicament was its fault.
Ryou fit his place in life…
…pity that he hated every second of it.
- quick note -
So, in case there's any question, we're not headed down the Bakura beating Ryou path of life, but he does strike me as a rough guy, so... Yea. Anyway, hope it was fun! And I hope I finish the first chapter soon-ish, lol.