Yami fell asleep again almost immediately after our early breakfast. The stress of whatever forced him awake drained him of what little energy he gained overnight, causing him to crash land into the plush embrace of the sofa cushions. His body stretching out across the full length of the couch as he cradles a throw pillow flush to his chest. Our unexpected guest doesn't pay him any mind as he sits opposite me at the kitchen table, his white hair catching all the colors of the Christmas lights I've draped atop the cabinets.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you like this." Ryou apologizes, thin lips pressed into an uneasy smile. "I tried to call, but when you didn't answer I figured a surprise visit may prove more effective than repetitively calling."

   "You know you're always welcome to come by for a visit. I just wish I was ready for guests." Ryou glances at my plush Exodia pajama pants with humor, his refined English manners halting him from judging me too harshly, verbally at least. "But that's the price you pay for a surprise visit."

   "I'm more than willing to pay that price." He grins. "It's been too long since I last saw you."

   "I know." I huff. "But you know there's nothing stopping you from dropping by."

   "The same can be said for you." He quirks his brows pointedly as he raises his thermos to his lips. Seems I'm due a lecture on the duties and responsibilities of keeping in touch with my friends. I know that I've really been dropping the ball lately, lately meaning for the last year, but I just didn't feel like forcing myself to be social when I didn't feel up to it. Hell, I can't even bring myself to read my Grandpa's emails let alone willingly set up a hangout with someone. I doubt Ryou would be very pleased with such an explanation, but unless he plans on crawling underneath my skin and using me as a living puppet, there's not much he can do about it.

   "Do you want an apology?"

   "No," he says. "I know you wouldn't mean it, so let's not insult each other by pretending. God knows the two of you have been doing a lot of that already."

   "I don't know what you're talking about."

   "Yes, you do." His answer is simple, yet it takes no prisoners and offers no room for evasion. It's clear now that he's here on a mission, and no amount of polite subterfuge or coquette bashfulness will deter him. "It's exhausting, isn't it?"

"You've been talking to Joey."

"Should I be? Would he tell me anything interesting? Anything I don't already know?"

"What do you want Ryou?"

"To help." He confesses. "Out of all our friends, you know I'm the only one who really understands what you're going through." For the first time since he walked through the door he glances over at the slumbering pharaoh. "I can help you both get what you want."

"No offense, but I really doubt you know anything about what Yami wants." I say, sounding far more defensive than I would like. My proverbial hackles are raised at the insinuation that Ryou, an outsider to our dynamic duo, understands Yami better than I do. Sliding my hands underneath my legs I try to hide the tension that's building beneath my skin, simmering like a geyser just minutes away from erupting.

"I may not know the Pharaoh personally," he concedes. "But it doesn't take a genius to figure out what he's after." A beat of silence passes between us as he studies my face. His eyes momentarily widening as he places both of his hands flat against the table. "Oh my God. You really don't see it, do you?" He murmurs incredulous. "You're really that oblivious to how he feels about you?" There's a tinge of pity in his inflection that grates against my already strained nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

   "Don't I? You really think the two of you are that different from Bakura and I?" His question rings like a challenge in the ears of the enraged beast writhing beneath my skin, but a small prick of sense strikes, jarring me from my insecure haze. "We're not like other people. This connection between us and them, no one beyond the four of us can possibly understand it or just how deep those emotions run."

   "You make it sound like it's inevitable, falling for the one you're bonded to."

   "Perhaps it is. We'll never experience a deeper feeling of mutual respect or understanding than we do with them. It's only natural for those feelings to evolve into something more."

   "Maybe that's how it was for you, but I don't understand him. He shuts me out more often than he used to." A deep gnawing ache forms in the center of my chest, opening a well of self pity I'm all too familiar with. "Clearly, we're the exception to your theory."

"He wants you, Yugi."

   "You don't know that."

"I do actually. Much like how I know you haven't been as open with him as you think."

   Snowflakes glimmer and float in the kitchen window as Yami slumbers on and my heart is flamed with an irrational ire, running deep into my bones. Ryou peers back at me with those knowing eyes, and for the first time in my life I have an overwhelming desire to blacken both of them.

   "Thank you for your visit, Ryou, but I think it's time you leave." It's a struggle to get the words out, let alone to voice them politely. An endeavor I've obviously failed at considering the affronted look on his face.

   "I didn't mean to upset you."

   Somehow I doubt that. "Even so, I have a list of chores to do today." Rising from my seat, I plaster a smile on my face. "Thank you again for your visit. Hopefully we'll meet up again soon." Not too soon I hope.

   Ryou sighs as he rises from his seat, brushing past me with a chill that's more Bakura in essence than his own. I escort him to the door where he levels me with a stare, pinning me in place with such intensity that it shocks the heat of my anger from my system, replacing it with a frigid chill that trails the curve of my spine.

   "Live in denial all you want, Yugi. But there's more suffering in yearning than bliss, just think about how much suffering you can take in your life before you make that choice for both of you." My tongue turns to stone in my mouth as he plasters a polite smile across his face and slips back out into the wintry air without a backwards glance.