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When Ryou wakes each morning, he’s never sure who he will find sleeping next to him.
It’s not that he’s unfamiliar with the half-covered tan body – quite the opposite. For the last six months, Ryou has become very acquainted with each perfectly-sculpted muscle, every strand of gold hair, the endless inches of smooth skin interrupted only by rough-to-the-touch scars lining a broad back.
Yet even in the throes of passion – of which there have been many during this last half-year’s nights – Ryou has never known who to cry out for in sweet rapture. His ears burn in remembrance at the sound of his name whispered gruffly by the other man, currently asleep in a rare moment of peace. Yet there is a longing in Ryou to know what to call this being supposedly brought forth by hatred and formed by the shadows.
Ryou wonders if this man – his lover? fuck buddy? friend? – ever had a name to call himself as he fought for survival before finding salvation in Domino City.
“Amir.”
Lost in his thoughts, the name catches Ryou off-guard as he realises that the one beside him – today it seems he will be Amir – is staring with determined lavender eyes and a softness that Ryou reckons is reserved for these drowsy moments each morning.
“Good morning, Amir.” The name is a new one for Ryou, but no less welcome than the dozens of others they’ve tried since the man’s surreptitious return to Domino. “Shall I make us breakfast?”
Ryou bends down to press his lips against Amir’s – gentle, yet tempting enough to elicit a moan that promises more. And sure enough, Ryou finds himself flipped onto his back and staring up into the face of a man far too smug for his own good – but just smug enough to make Ryou blush and go hard instantly.
“I’d rather breakfast in bed.”
Amir growls more than speaks, sending a pleasant chill across the scars on Ryou’s chest. As Amir’s surprisingly tender hands hold Ryou in place as he travels lower and lower until reaching his intended – very sensitive – goal, Ryou can’t help wondering if today might be the day where the man he’s come to love and trust finally knows who he is.
And as Ryou finds himself brought to the height of pleasure again and again by Amir’s talented mouth, fingers and body… Ryou also can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’ll understand himself, too.
It is late morning, and Ryou is already mostly done with his tasks for the day. For all of KaibaCorp’s workhorse ethic, Ryou is continuously surprised at how his role as a game designer leaves more room to daydream than pull all-nighters.
This gives Ryou plenty of time to think – specifically, about the many identities and faces of Amir. The name seems to fit the man well, and he’s seemed quite upbeat – less manic, more mild – since this morning. Making love is a fantastic start to the day as far as Ryou is concerned – his scant experience, Amir aside, notwithstanding. The pleasant memory of their early tussle in the sheets leaves Ryou pink-faced and short of breath – until he hears the thump of footsteps behind him.
Of course, with Amir’s insatiable appetite for not just sex but all that life has to offer, it’s no surprise to Ryou that Amir would already be looking for the next big thing to liven his day. Ryou is, as always, more than happy to comply, and honoured that someone like Amir would—
“Kek.”
Ryou spins around to see Amir – now Kek, apparently – finally dressed for the day. He sports a long, ripped jacket that covers a textured white shirt, contrasted nicely against his brown skin. The worn jeans below expose fishnet stockings under its many tears, and Ryou can’t help but smile at how the other man is wearing the headband and stud earrings that they’d purchased in recent weeks.
Funny how Kek looks better in clothes that Ryou’s held onto for years, yet never worn himself…
Ryou shakes his head, knowing he’s taken too long to answer. He can only hope that Kek is inferring the silence as approval. And indeed, Ryou can’t help but be stunned by how Kek looks. Even if they hadn’t been sharing a bed for the last six months, Ryou knows there’s no way he’d ever mistake the man in front of him for the prim, proper and pimped Malik Ishtar – not when compared to the rough exterior on display here.
“Kek…” Ryou rolls the name around in his mouth, seeing how it tastes. “I love it.”
Let it never be said that Ryou hasn’t been supportive of Kek at all stages of his identity crisis. After living with a half-demon half-ancient-Egyptian-thief in his body for his formative years, Ryou is used to rolling with the punches and adjusting to rapid life changes, for better or worse. The least he can do is help Kek discover who he is in a safe and secure environment.
Ryou stands to make his point clear and, on tiptoes to match Kek’s height, runs his hands through that still-wild hair, bringing their foreheads together.
“I love you.”
It’s a phrase that Ryou has said before, both in moments of passion and solace. The sentiment still makes Kek tense, if the taut neck muscles under Ryou’s fingers are any indication. But at least Kek isn’t running away. Whether that is because Kek has finally accepted the romantic gesture, or because he has nowhere to run to, Ryou does not truly know.
“I want…” Kek bites his lip, which Ryou only now realises is stained deep red from a brand Ryou had always wanted to wear. “I think I’d like to try beef for lunch.”
Ryou chuckles, knowing full well how big a step this is to further break away from Malik and the Ishtar clan. And if he can at least help one of them sever their chains of the past, by the gods Ryou would do it over and over again for Kek, in this lifetime and the next.
“I’ll get the stove going.”
With a soft smile, Ryou leads Kek into the kitchen – their kitchen – and squeezes his hand in reassurance.
Kek’s stomach will need a bit longer to get used to the animal enzymes, Ryou painfully realises soon after lunch. He’d tried starting simple with a beef broth, but it seems, even in his own form, Kek is not immune to Malik’s bodily reactions.
Ryou hopes the retching sounds he hears down the hall aren’t indicative of something worse. Oddly enough, he worries most that Kek might stain his new get-up or muss his immaculate make-up, which would be such a shame because the whole ensemble has finally made Kek Kek.
The name is an unusual choice, especially so considering the man generally keeps only one throughout the day. But the more Ryou considers it, the more he realises it’s a damn good fit.
Throughout the last six months, they’ve experienced what feels like every moniker under the sun. What started with Mariku – the most short-lived name of all – slowly morphed to the likes of Asad, Karim, Nasir and Tau. There have been days – especially power-hungry days – where Ammut and Ra have taken over as the name of choice. Likewise, during times where the world looks to be falling apart, the masochistic name of Ishtar has been utilised.
Kek – even Amir – are a nice change of pace, Ryou concludes. Short and to-the-point, allowing Kek to make himself a separate entity from Malik, along with the clothes, culture and life that Kek has finally chosen for himself, thanks to Ryou’s help.
There’s just a hint of smugness in Ryou these days as he reels at his luck – not just the chance to live with someone who accepts him as the weirdo he is, but the opportunity to do for someone else what he couldn’t for himself. Even as Ryou winces at the thought of Kek spilling his guts in the bathroom down the hall, he can’t help feeling proud of Kek for making the choice at all, and for Ryou being the one to encourage it.
If Ryou had gotten the chance to actually live like himself years ago, if only he’d had someone inspire him to explore his many identities beyond that of a lonely, polite, naïve boy… If only he could shed his own name as easily as Kek, no longer just be “Bakura” to his supposed friends, forevermore distance himself from the being who ripped away any chance at happiness by stealing the most basic aspect of himself.
The noises stop in the bathroom, and Ryou – purging the dark thoughts that seem to hit him more and more these days – determines it’s safe to go check on Kek. He wets a hand towel, knocks twice and, upon hearing no complaint, enters to find Kek slouched on the tiled floor, a stray arm resting over the lip of the bathtub. Ryou can’t help but admire how, even after experiencing something so unpleasant, Kek still looks like he owns the place.
“Here. This will help.” Ryou spreads the damp towel against Kek’s head, careful not to let loose water droplets run down the perfectly-applied kohl and mascara. “I’ll be sure to ease you into any animal products from now on. If you want, Kek, I can—”
“Najjad.”
The word is so unanticipated, Ryou reels when he hears it fall from the other man’s lips. Yet there it is, ringing along the echoey bathroom walls all the same.
Najjad?
This is a completely new one on Ryou. He truly hopes that this third switch in a day – Kek was such a good one, Ryou argues internally – isn’t because Najjad will now associate bad memories with his prior name.
But really, it doesn’t matter what Ryou wants. What matters is that Najjad feels comfortable in himself and who he is becoming, and that Ryou is there to help him through it.
“If you want, Najjad,” Ryou continues his last sentence, drawing attention away from the pregnant pause. “I can order some burgers from Burger World. Veggie for you and… if you want the smallest of bites from my hamburger, you’re more than welcome.”
Maybe it’s a stupid idea, given Najjad’s violent reaction just now. But Najjad has never been one to back down from supposedly stupid ideas, as Ryou knows intimately from their time both in and out of bed. So, Ryou isn’t surprised when a head of sweat-drenched hair leans forward to weakly embrace him.
“Heh. Always putting up with a nuisance like me, aren’t you?”
Ryou holds back the sigh that threatens to escape from his mouth, humming softly as he nuzzles his nose into Najjad’s neck. Ryou closes his eyes and grabs onto Najjad tighter, showing that he will forever put up with and accept and love every aspect of this captivating man.
Because of all the many – albeit conflicting – things Najjad is, a nuisance is the furthest from Ryou’s mind.
Several hours later, another workday completed long after the sun has set, Ryou stretches, closes his laptop and listens. Normally, he hears the sound of Najjad playing video games or blasting whatever – usually out-of-date – J-rock band he’s discovered. But tonight, he hears the thwip, thwip, thwip of what sounds like a book. And not just any book – a photo album.
Knowing full well that there’s only one such item that can sound like that, Ryou saunters from his desk to the living room, resting his eyes on Najjad. He is sprawled out on their small sofa, thumbing through hundreds of images. Only when he catches sight of Ryou does Najjad startle slightly, then turn away as if caught with his hand in a cookie jar. The look is so cute, so genuine, Ryou nearly misses what Najjad says.
“I wanted to see you.”
At this point in whatever relationship they have, Najjad needs no explanation for his actions, so Ryou just waves his hand and sits beside Najjad on the scant space afforded him.
“It’s old me.”
Ryou chuckles as the pages flip by, each one conjuring up indelible memories of family outings, play dates with friends, childhood incarnate – until the photos inevitably stop around Ryou’s tenth birthday.
“Hm.”
Najjad tilts his head, not unlike a wild animal when it comes across something new and foreign, then backtracks and looks over the last few images again. They show Ryou in the sweater vests and plaid shirts and garish trousers that he still maintains in his current wardrobe. They show a young boy who already hides sadness behind his eyes, evoking sensitivity where there is a desire for strength. Most of all, they show Ryou Bakura as a boy with a mother and a father and a sister and friends and a future – a boy who does not know the horrors that await him just weeks after this last picture was taken.
“‘Old you’ seems a lot like present you.”
Ryou knows Najjad doesn’t mean it as an insult, nor does he take it as such. It’s blatantly true that while Yugi has grown confident and self-assured, Anzu has blossomed into someone talented and worldly and Jounouchi and Honda are, despite being children-at-heart, the most mature, responsible people he knows… Ryou feels left behind in more ways than one.
“I wish you could have been here… before…”
Ryou can’t help exhaling the confession. He subconsciously scoots closer to Najjad, who sets the photo album aside. Ryou can’t say he feels stupid, because then what he’s been doing for Najjad all these months would be stupid, and he refuses to acknowledge right now that maybe two truths can exist simultaneously.
The real truth is that Najjad is right. It has been six months since Najjad entered Ryou’s life, seven years since the Ceremonial Duel and a decade-and-a-half since Ryou lost his family, friends and sense of self thanks to a certain cursed artifact. And when Ryou had wanted to play his role-play games, when he had questions about himself, when he sought advice on how to find unconventional – at least for Japan – companionship, when he wanted to scream in pain or rapture and it became near impossible to decipher the two… he’d just accepted that he would always be alone, invisible, unchanging.
Not like Najjad, who is vibrant and wild and new – and who for some reason chooses to be with Ryou of all people. Their traumas may be different and their paths may have only crossed surreptitiously. But even now – wrapped in the arms of the other, thin tears streaming down his face – Ryou cannot help but feel he and Najjad are oceans apart on their journey, doomed to drift apart as has been the case with all of Ryou’s relationships, which would be a shame because Ryou has always struggled to relate to other men despite wanting them like oxygen and liking, loving, Najjad has come second nature all this time and Najjad could be whoever he wants and Ryou would still love him, and—
“I still don’t know you.”
The words fall from Najjad’s mouth, barely there, and when Ryou lifts his head he sees a similar wet stain across Najjad’s cheeks. But before Ryou can offer comfort or reassurance, as he seems to intuitively do—
“But… I want to know everything about you. Everything, Ryou.”
Never before has Ryou felt so seen – and not just because Najjad’s lilac eyes penetrate deep into Ryou’s heart, making a home where they both can live. More than that, Ryou shivers in delight at the evocation of his name – the only part that matters to him, anyway – and the encouragement he has directed toward Najjad for the last half-year being thrown back at him tenfold.
Feeling alive, braver and more supported than ever before from a few simple words, Ryou lunges forward and plants his mouth against Najjad’s, stifling harmonious groans as their bodies awkwardly slot together.
Gone are anymore tears tonight. Dashed are any further fears and insecurities. As pale fingers twine against tan palms, Ryou inhales Najjad’s being and exhales his own right back. They have done this countless times, yet something in Ryou suddenly feels lighter and freer. Only when he pulls back, gasping for air while leaving a lingering lick across Najjad’s lower lip, does he finally speak again.
“You’ll learn about me, Najjad, and—”
“Ryou.”
Najjad shakes his head, and at first Ryou is confused as to whether Najjad has now chosen to adopt Ryou’s own name, which would just confuse matters, he thinks. But then he feels Najjad’s strong hand cup the back of his head and lead him down so that their foreheads touch, and Ryou can feel Najjad whisper.
“I don’t give a fuck who I am or who you are… as long as we learn about us.”
When the gap closes between both men once more, Ryou finally believes his own advice – and himself.