Sound of Silence

Time and time again, he failed. It was a wonder why he even tried anymore.

All he wanted was to try and kindle a friendship, to put aside the past, but of course, that would be quite impossible when you put that idea in combination with the two people who were meant to be in that friendship. He chuckled bitterly at his foolishness.

At first, it was for the sake of their lighter halves. They both knew how aggravated they would get when the pair of them would start arguing over something as silly as who wanted to sit in a certain spot on the sofa. Now, it was because he started to realize he had a slight…admiration for the snowy-haired thief. He has a determination to get done whatever he set his mind to, he never turned down a challenge, and he did whatever necessary to protect his light (although he claims it’s only because if Ryou dies, so does he). However much he wanted to deny it, it was only pulling strings on his heart to reject a feeling he knew was there. Wanting to put a net over the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach only made him nauseas. So, instead he gave in, and made attempts to try and be at least somewhat kind to him. These attempts were all in vain, though.

It was like trying to fix something that was damaged beyond repair. He was about ready to give up; he tried his best, only to be met with the harsh discovery of failure. But, he knew, deep down, he didn’t give his best. He gave weak tries, already knowing he wouldn’t succeed.

Yami sighed, his deep plum eyes looking from the sky from which snow was falling, down to the ground where a blanket of soft, white flakes were accumulating. Maybe they were destined to remain this way; enemies. No, that’s not the right word, not anymore at least. Argumentative rivals. That was a better way of describing the pair.

He let out another sigh and allowed himself to relax a little, his back meeting that of the bench he sat on. Yami allowed his mind to wander as he continued to watch the small crystals fall and gather. When he bent his neck back to look up again, more of his neck was exposed from underneath his scarf.

“What are you doing out here?”

He was unsurprised as the question came out in that normal, expected harsh tone. What surprised Yami, though, was the presence alone of the thief.

Yami regained his disposition, despite being startled, and replied, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Bakura shrugged half-heartedly, holding the former pharaoh’s gaze for a moment longer before looking away, his dark chocolate eyes falling on a snow-covered tree. “No reason in particular.”

A nod, and a hm, was the only response he received.

The sound of silence gave them both an odd sort of solace, knowing that neither had to speak to the other, or initiate a conversation.

Yami felt a little confused, though, as to why Bakura would ever want to even acknowledge his presence without needing to, like he had to when Yugi and Yami and to Ryou’s, or if Ryou forced him to come over to the Game Shop. How the British boy even managed to do so was beyond Yami.

Finally, the silence was broken.

“Interesting, isn’t it?”

At the sound of Bakura’s voice, Yami looked over at him, taken aback by the sudden question. “Wha—What do you mean?”

Hesitant in his next movement, he walked over, and took the empty seat beside the former pharaoh, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “The weather, and how…meaningful it all is. Take the snow, for instance. Although it’s cold and requires people to shovel it out of their driveway, it’s still a source of entertainment for children as they frolic and play in it, throwing it at one another. It also provides quiet, serene moments for simply allowing one to sit and think—much like you were doing when I came across you. And rain, another peaceful and calming occurrence. Just the sound of the pellets beating against a window…it’s one of the few things that can put one's mind at ease in mere moments.”

Yami gazed at Bakura in wonder; he never heard him get so eloquent about any subject before. Sure, he would go on about the Millennium Items back when that was all he ever wanted, but that was different. There was an enthusiasm Yami hadn’t seen in Bakura when he spoke of how soothing snow and rain could be. He was hearing more words coming out of his mouth, but he wasn’t truly listening. His eyes were tracing over Bakura’s slender fingers, and watched as snowflakes blended in almost perfectly with his hair as they fell. When rich brown met dark purple, he snapped out of his trance-like state and felt his cheeks heat up a little as Bakura looked at him, as though expecting a reply, or at least a grunt in response.

Yami wasn’t sure what to say, especially since he got lost in his own thoughts as Bakura delved deeper into his opinions on rain and thunderstorms and sunshine.

“I…I’ve never heard you talk so fervid about anything like that before,” Yami mustered, not sure what word to use to describe the way Bakura had just spoken.

Much to his surprise, Bakura let out a hearty chuckle, and leaned back in a similar fashion to the way Yami was sitting, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What?” Yami asked, furrowing his brow in an attempt to figure out what was humorous in this situation.

Bakura shook his head, a grin prominent on his face. “Only you would make a remark like that. You wouldn’t ramble on with how you agree or whatever, you simply say you never heard me go on in that manner before.”

“Well, I’m sorry for trying to be a little different than everyone else for once,” Yami scoffed, turning his gaze away from Bakura and to a bush, its leaves being weighed down by the white bundles of snow.

Bakura watched as the former pharaoh glowered at a bush, his expression easing little by little as the minutes passed. “Would you like to go for some hot chocolate? It's rather cold just sitting here.”

Now it was Yami’s turn to give a laugh. “You, Bakura, the former thief king of Egypt, is asking me, the former pharaoh, your rival, to join you for hot chocolate?”

The snowy-haired one of the pair imitated Yami’s scoff. “Sorry for trying to be a little different,” he mimicked the apology in a sarcastic manner.

Yami turned so that he was looking Bakura in the eye, and found that he was being earnest about his offer. Then, he let the corners of his lips turn upward a little bit. “I’d like that.”

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't as unfixable as it seemed.