Pairing: Yami Bakura/Ryou Bakura

Summary: Ryou knew something was wrong, but he was too far gone and too delusional to comprehend it.

Warnings: Implied Sex

Disclaimer: I claim Yu-Gi-Oh and anything related as not being mine.

Comments: I've been meaning to write this for a long time. It ended up being a lot more fluid and pretty than I first intended, not to mention a lot longer. Title is taken from a line in T.S. Eliot's poem Hollow Men, one of my all-time favourite poems. I'm a little worried about characterization, so feedback on that especially would be nice.

Ever since that first moment in which Ryou had felt himself being torn from his own body and shoved away to sleep in the corners of his own mind, he had known something wasn't right with him. And when he woke, he had no recollection of anything: not where he was, what he had been doing before, or why there were comatose bodies draped over his Monster World board. But aside from that first shock, he had paid it no mind; when it kept happening, he slowly came to accept it, though he began to fear himself a little bit.

But life had moved on, then: he still went to school, still had friends, though the small number of people he held dear were slowly dwindling, as their lifeless forms gathered in his home and the few that remained began to shy away from him; he still wrote letters to his departed sister, making sure not to frighten her by telling her about the bodies (though he felt she would know, because she was probably watching him scream in the night); he still lived with his father, who was still always busy. The only real item of comfort he had was the heavy golden ring he draped over his neck and hid beneath his shirt, if only because that was something that couldn't and wouldn't change.

Ryou had heard the voice one day, after meeting new friends and telling them why he was there. At the time, he had been scared, and had felt the pain of a ghost's determination, though he had been somewhat unsurprised. He had thought, at the time, It's not me, it's never been me, I'm not the one that hurt them, only to realize that it had been, because he couldn't stop whatever was using his body to commit these horrors. I did it for you, the spirit had told him. I do everything for you, landlord. I can make your pain stop, keep your fears away. You'll never be lonely again. And Ryou had listened, foolishly believing these sweet lies, because he didn't have anybody else to turn to, and the childish part of his mind was actually pleased because finally, there was someone there.

And from that point on, Ryou no longer knew the bite of sadness or the sting of isolation. He spent hours, sometimes days holed up in his own mind, smiling and watching as his troubles floated away, the spirit turning them into dust and ashes. I'll help you forget your pain, he said, smiling as he knelt down and took Ryou's face in his hand, laughing as he kissed him softly (but not really, because they didn't exist, it was all in their mind). And the boy would just accept it, because he had nothing else and was slowly losing himself and what part of his mind that still belonged to him.

The letters to Amane had slowed, and eventually stopped. Ryou would pick up the pen, hold it over the paper, and try to write something, but the first line always escaped him. He knew he was meant to be writing a letter, but to whom? He threw the pen down in frustration, and tried to shuffle through his memories to find the name of the person he was writing to. But every time he tried to search, he would find nothing but happy memories, and vague recollections of scenery. Everything else was foggy and eroded, as if it had been tampered with. Don't worry yourself, the spirit would tell him. And he wouldn't, because he knew it was for the better, but eventually he would try again to figure out just what was wrong -- nothing ever came back to him, so he accepted it.

Ryou was happy -- delusionally so -- because in his new world, there was nothing but happy memories and the constant feeling that he wasn't alone. Someone was there, and despite his actions at time, they could be forgiven -- it was all for him after all, or so he was told. All for you, all for your happiness. You are happy, aren't you, landlord?

"Yes, I am," he would say, smiling at the voice. Ryou's smiles were always hollow, empty; his voice was airy and insubstantial, almost a ghostly whisper. Sometimes he realized this, and wondered if he was even truly alive, or if he was stuck in some dream world that the Spirit of the Ring had created. He could never shake the feeling that there was something inherently wrong about all this, about his whole life and about the voice in his mind, but these thoughts were quickly reduced to nothing. Whenever it crossed his mind that there was a problem with his existence, he would be torn away from his body again and forced into the serenity of his mind, where the spirit would silence him with lips and hands and whispers, telling him that everything would be okay, he would be fine, they would be fine. And Ryou would believe him, again, because he had deluded himself into believing that he was loved. He gave himself up to the spirit, offering his body, moaning and screaming with pleasure until he couldn't any more.

And then everything was gone, the voice had been torn from him, and he had been left alone. There was nothing he could do but stare into the wide expanse of the sky, wondering where he had been and what he had been doing, before silently wondering if he had truly known what it meant to be loved.

I love criticism. Reviews are wonderful.