1.

The first time he wakes up, it's in front of the mirror, blood thickening on his clothes, his hands, his hair. Ryou shakes, caught in some sleep-deprived nightmare, half asleep and horrified. is the blood his? He realizes he is sore but not injured, and the jolt of awareness sends him crashing back into awakeness. Carefully he looks at his filthy hands and the smell of all that blood reaches him. It is real as anything he's ever seen, it cloaks him with that metal taste, and Ryou falls dizzily forward, palms on his knees, and retches. It takes a long minute for the roaring in his ears to subside, and when it does, the dark laughter reaches him. Heavy around his neck, the ring glows.

2.

The first time he pushes back, he comes to in bed, his alarm ringing next to him, and springs up before realizing it was a mistake. His Yami has gotten better about depositing his body back where he'd left it, but that was the only concession. Ryou was on the floor before he knew it, half fainted and utterly exhausted. Aaah!

The spirit's thought came back a moment later. What are you doing on the floor?

Gingerly attaining a sitting position, Ryou takes stock. Everything hurts, he feels like he hasn't eaten in days, and the tiredness permeates everything. What did you do? He demands.

I was out, replies the spirit defensively, but he thinks he can hear a smirk.

If you want this body to be in any kind of shape for your bloody adventures, you can't run it into the ground, Ryou pleads, putting one shaky hand on the dresser for balance and somehow hauling himself up. Has it been so long since you had a body?

The spirit muses for a second; maybe he genuinely has forgotten that people need food and water and sleep. Then he just laughs. How pathetic you are.

3.

The last time he fears for his safety he is walking through a parking lot in the dead of night, it is cold and black and he is shivering as he cuts through the alley. Go home, stupid, says the spirit, you're no use to me dead of a chill.

Ryou is about to say that he's trying, because it's true, when he catches sight of something shiny and freezes. There are two of them, eyes strung out on something, carrying knives. "Oh, now, you're too pretty a thing to be out here alone," he hears. "What have you got to offer besides that body?"

Ryou tries to back away, but he's trapped. Palms up, he tries to explain that he doesn't have anything of value, that he'll keep his mouth shut, but it's not enough. Let me up, purrs his Yami with amusement. Ryou surprises himself by shoving the spirit back down.

No. You'll do something… something awful with my hands. Again. The spirit is offended, but still in a good enough humor to wait. He doesn't have to wait long. Ryou takes a blow to the side of his head, his ribs, gets kicked as he slumps.

Now, hikari, demands the spirit.

No! I won't let you. Blood trickles from his mouth.

You defend your attackers?! No answer. A dirty silver blade curves down to his throat, and in the moment of panic, Ryou feels his grip wrested away. When he opens his eyes he is confronted by two corpses and a lake of black shining blood. He can feel the malicious pleasure emanating from the spirit.

As he lets the knife fall and turns for home, empty and numb, he hears his Yami murmur. Much better. See, I even let you back in right away. You should thank me, host. No one lays hands on your body. No one can protect you like me. And Ryou knows he should be disturbed, terrified, but he doesn't have the energy, and besides… his demon is protective.

4.

The last time he wonders about his sanity, he is combing his fingers through wild white hair in his soul room while the spirit whispers vicious endearments in his ears, the both of them shaken and sick from nightmares. Carefully Ryou brushes the tangles out of his dark side's wild eyes and feels him still a bit under his touch. The spirit is muttering, "…you're fucking mine, don't you forget, I won't let you go, I'll kill them all first, never, never…" and somehow Ryou's racing heartbeat calms too.

He thinks maybe he's in love. Their fingers lace together and the line between bond and lust, partners and lovers, is about as clear as spider silk on the breeze. Two broken beings that wouldn't just roll over and die. The darkness presses down on him, slamming him into the bed and wrapping itself around his limbs and sinking its teeth lovingly into his shoulder, and it hurts, and he feels safer than he ever has. "…never leave…" whispers the spirit sulkily into his neck, and Ryou forgets the nightmares as something sick and sweet lights up inside him and he whispers only, "Yes." He thinks maybe he's in love...

He iknows/i he's insane.