(no subject)
[BACKDATED TO SATURDAY... WHATEVER DATE THAT WAS. Dx]
Six days. It had only been six days since Anzu had chased him out of the house. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that wasn't quite regret. After all, what did he have to regret? His drinking? He'd been that way since long before she'd met him. If she'd gone into the relationship with the desire to change him, it wasn't worth his time. Truthfully, though, he wasn't sure he cared if it was 'worth his time' or not.
She was something beyond the concept of time at all.
That thought didn't even really make sense. What had he been drinking, anyway? He glanced idly over to the bottle, trying to read the label. To his dismay, it was turned away from him, though he did get a good glimpse of the clock. 2:35 blinked in bright red letters, staring him down.
Shit, his flight was at four, wasn't it? He needed to get moving then. He'd packed earlier in the day (before he'd hit the bottle) so as far as most things were concerned, he was set. All except for one thing...
Calling her was probably a horrible idea but that didn't stop him from picking up the phone and dialing her number. It was, in all honesty, the only phone number he'd bothered learning (although he did remember the last four digits of the number for the Pizza Hut down the street). He listened quietly as the phone rang. Would she even pick up? Part of him doubted severely that she'd bother but worst came to worst, he could leave a message.
She'd been given three rules last time she was at the OB-GYN. They were simple, and to ensure she wouldn't show up in the delivery room early. She hadn't really paid attention to them, until now, since she'd written them on her vanity mirror in very red lipstick. (That had always been a way for her to leave reminders to herself. She'd could remember, writing a note for Bakura on the mirror with the last of some old lipstick, and he'd chuckle about it from behind her on the bed.)
One. Cut down on activity, and sleep as much as you can. She figured that she'd already been doing that, having basically hid herself in the apartment ever since walking around made her back hurt. In theory, she should sleep as much as she could, because later on, there wouldn't be time. Newborns apparently woke you up all the time, and sleep would soon become a distant memory.
Two. Eat More! Her doctor had stressed that every time she'd seen her, but she hadn't really listened then or now. At least she was forcing herself to actually eat something -- usually when upset, she'd just go without, as if she didn't need it to function like normal human beings. There was a half-eaten salad on the counter in her kitchen, where she'd left it after she couldn't force any more down her throat.
Three. Avoid anything stressful, from laughing too hard or crying about something. This was probably her most noticable failure. Case and point, the graveyard of damp tissues cluttering her bed. Having Bakura here had been stressful, but not having him could possibly make her feel even worse. She'd said once, that it didn't make sense for her to breathe anymore when he was gone, and she realized how honest a statement that had been. If she weren't pregnant, she might have considered mixing medicene with alcohol, or taking a long walk off her short balcony. She'd never been suicidal before, not even after her ... drama with the first Bakura (though thank god, that hadn't been at all romantic), just disgusted and disturbed. So it was definitely a new feeling, and she forced herself to wonder how she'd let him get so close so he could hurt her so badly.
She'd made a habit of never really opening up -- even though she opened up more for Bakura than she usually did, there were probably a lot of things about her he didn't know (likely because he didn't care one way or another -- thinking it would somehow safeguard her from pain. And her one foray away from the security blanket of herself had left her depressed, suicidal, pregnant, and painfully alone.
Along with her phobias of heights and confined spaces, there was the constant fear of being alone. And now, like it always was eventually, she was realizing that fear and how badly it shook her. She couldn't sleep, eat, or think properly when she felt truly alone, and she'd felt that alone for ... six days now.
It was killing her.
She didn't even realize she was crying, most of the time. She'd just wipe at her face and the kleenex would come back wet. It was strange, to feel sort of away from herself. She could only hope that she was about to hit bottom, because she had to go back to normal eventually, didn't she?
The phone ringing peirced through her thoughts, making her head hurt, and bringing her back for a moment. She could hear the steady thrum of the fan, and the tick of her clock. The sniffs of her own crying.
Jesus, her stomach hurt.
Did she really want to answer the phone? It was two in the morning, it was probably one of those weird kids across the hall giving her a prank call. She hated it when they did that. Her answering machine apparently had three missed calls. Funny, she hadn't heard them...
She coughed, the action making her stomach hurt worse. Maybe she should eat something... But she reached for the phone, anyway. If someone asked her if her refridgerator was running, they were going to have a colourful monolouge coming their way.
"Moshi Moshi?" She managed weakly, somehow not being capable of covering the hoarseness and painful emotion left over from crying. Not the way she had intended to answer, to be sure. She'd been so good at hiding everything, what the hell was wrong with her?
The fact that she'd answered at all shocked Bakura. He was silent for a moment, reflecting on the way her voice sounded. It'd be a miracle if she didn't hang up on him the moment he spoke, wouldn't it? Perhaps he should choose his words carefully, get out exactly what it was he wanted to say.
They would have worked wonderfully if he'd had any idea of what it was he wanted to say. Instead, he drew a blank. He wasn't even sure why he'd decided to call her now. Was it just instinct? He wanted to say good-bye to the person he cared about. He grabbed the nameless bottle again, chugging down quickly whatever contents were left and smashing the bottom against the night stand. The fucking maid could clean that up after he left.
He really needed to say something. "Anzu." Yes, that was classic. Clever. Wonderful. Perfect. Clearing his throat (and tasting the alcohol momentarily for a second time), he added, "I just wanted to give a quick call." She'd told him to stay away from her, hadn't she? That she needed her space? Calling was probably a mistake.
"I'm getting ready to leave." Because she needed to know that. "Uhm, did you get the stuff I sent you?"
He was sober. Why was he sober?
She was greeted with silence. A lot of silence. She was about to hang up the when someone said her name. It was mumbled, but it was her name, which kept her from hanging up.
When she did realize who it was, she did feel tempted to hang up. Sure, she'd been dying to hear his voice, but she didn't really want him to know that. She almost wished she could take back answering the phone, so he wouldn't know she had been crying.
The silence stretched long enough to leave wonder if she'd hung up before she managed weakly, "Where are you going?"
Of course she wanted to know. Why? She wasn't sure. Maybe it would be easier to visualize what he was doing if she knew where he would be. Would he be drinking sake, or Egyptian Beer? Would pale japanese whores be in his bed, or beautiful, exotic egyptian ones? She shook her head, she didn't want to think about that. Sure, he probably would sleep with someone... Who wouldn't, when you had just escaped from your fat, contolling, ugly, pregnant ex?
Yes, she definitely had to stop thinking about this. Her self esteem was bad enough already.
The next thing she replied to in rather scrambled Japanese, before she rectified, "What stuff?" It meant the same thing, and he probably would have known what she was talking about without the english, but still.
Maybe it was a miracle that he wasn't greeted with a dial tone, though for a good while, Bakura was pretty sure he'd hear one soon. When she spoke, however, his heart skipped a beat in his chest. She was talking to him. It shouldn't have been nearly as incredible as it felt and yet, it was.
"Home," he mumbled, giving the room a quick glance. There had to be more alcohol here. Had to. He couldn't do any of this sober. He chuckled dryly, changing that statement, "I can't go home. Egypt, I guess." It was as close to home as he'd ever get again. "Area right outside of Cairo where I grew up." He wasn't sure why he was giving her details. Besides, that area was nothing but ruins. It had been ruins when he'd lived there in the past, too, though.
What stuff? Had she really not seen it? He'd been careful to place it somewhere that he thought would have been obvious. "I left you some money and something for the baby," he explained. "It should be... in the kitchen? Counter by the stove."
"I... I don't think that I've... really left my bedroom for awhile." That was a rather painful truth to say out loud, but it was true. She felt like she should ask when he came and if he'd seen a half eaten salad, so she could know exactly how long she'd been in here now. She could have sworn that she'd eaten it this afternoon, but now that she thought about it, she was rather hungry. Maybe that was why he stomach was hurting.
"You're... You're leaving?" She let that sink in. She had said she wanted some space, but she hadn't anticipated the distance being so ... far.
There was another silence, as she tried to keep from bursting into tears again. He was doing what she wanted, so why was she getting emotional? Again?
He could probably hear the sound of the springs of her bed creaking as she got up to go to the kitchen. The salad she remembered eating this afternoon didn't look so fresh. Maybe it wasn't this afternoon... If she didn't know better, she would have said it was four days old.
Knowing this wasn't terribly healthy for the baby, she murmured a rather dark curse under her breath, tossing the stinking mass into the trash, plate and all. Hopefully if she had a little more than usual tonight, it wouldn't be a problem.
"Is it a box?" She murmured, examining a rather foreign looking box perched on her countertop. She fingered the edge of the cardboard, wondering if he'd put his fingers here previously. Now she was borderlining on creepy...
"Will you come back?" She whispered, almost completely forgetting that the sentence before had changed the subject.
The idea that she hadn't left her room made Bakura increasingly wary. When he'd been around, half of the time he had to force her or remind her to eat. Hopefully, she'd taken good enough care of herself in the time that he'd been gone.
Leaving. "Uh, yeah," Bakura replied, climbing off of his own bed and moving over to the mini-fridge. Part of him felt guilty for drinking all the overpriced drinks, considering Mokuba was footing the bill on this room, but it was something he couldn't help. Addiction? They set it in front of him, like bait, and he bit it.
She cursed and while he wanted to know why, he figured unless she told him, it wasn't his business. At least, not anymore. "Yes, it's a box. I didn't know how else to leave it." Her next question made his chest ache slightly, a feeling he didn't quite understand. Thankfully, he had some vodka left over. Reaching for that, he popped it open and took a small sip. "I..."
He hadn't planned on coming back, truthfully. He'd planned to head to Egypt and if he couldn't stand it there, go elsewhere. Quietly, he murmured, "Any time you wanted me back, I'd be on the next flight."
Her head was starting to pound, and there was a sudden jot of pain in her stomach. Okay, yeah, she had to eat something. She opened the fridge, hopeing there would be some sort of food she could eat, but all that was there was a half-finished case of diet coke and a browning lemon.
She couldn't be so missing that she had nothing in the fridge, could she? What the hell? She felt tempted to curse again, and did so, but this time she also complained in Japanese that there had to be something physically wrong with her.
On the other line, he probably was wondering if she were drunk. Speaking of drunk, he sounded ... sober. He wasn't slurring or ...
No, she wasn't going to think about that.
Upon investigating the cupboards, she found some old animal crackers, but the sight made her unbelievably nauseous. Ow ow ow. Pain. She forced one into her mouth, though it made it want her to puke.
"How would you know? If I ... wanted you back? I won't know ... where you are."
He set the bottle down, a concerned expression gracing his lips. She didn't sound so well. He hated how much effort it was taking to not just drop the phone and go to her, check on her, take care of her. The problem was that she didn't want him around. Well, at least she said she didn't. He couldn't tell if it was his ego or what, but something pulled at him, trying to persuade him that she did want him there.
And how would he know? There was no set way, really. Not if he was off in Egypt. He didn't have a cell phone so it's not like there was a number that she could reach him at. "... I don't know," he answered, voice sounding slightly exasperated.
His head was starting to ache. Could one get withdrawal from going without alcohol for too long? It hadn't even been that long but gods, he wanted it. "Would you even really want me to come back?"
The question disgusted him. The last thing he needed was to need her to say yes and yet, that's what his body was aching for. Even more than the alcohol. "I'm... trying to do what you asked," he muttered. "Trying to stay away with you but," he paused for a moment, "I can't do it if I stay here."
The pain in her head was verging on excruciating, so she decided the best idea was to sit down. The sofa wasn't too far away, so she headed for that. The coffee table had apparently gotten in Bakura's way one time too many, so it was propped up against the wall. She hadn't bothered to move it back, but at the moment, she was sort of glad it was gone.
He was trying to do what she wanted. Which was sweet, really. But this hadn't been what she wanted at all. Another flash of pain raced through her head, making her almost moan. She managed not to. What the hell was going on?
"I don't want you to be so far away..." She said rather distantly, the fact she was crying very obvious in the statement. Once that was said, words continued spilling out without her being able to stop them. "I want you to be here, when the baby is born, I want you to..."
Another flash of pain. She hissed audibly, falling into silence until it faded.
Hearing her tears put a lump in his throat and his hand reached to the bottle though it lingered there, not moving in one direction or the other. "I..." Giving the clock a brief glance, Bakura gave a small grunt of frustration. So much for his flight.
She sounded horrible though. "Give me ten minutes and I can be at your door?" She had said she wanted him there when the baby was born but he wanted to be there now. He'd given her enough of what she wanted, hadn't he?
She sniffed, feeling a little better that he was coming, though it didn't make the pain any better. She said something about being sorry, that she was so pathetic, something about the coffee table tossed in there at random, though he probably couldn't understand a word, because she'd switched to Japanese and didn't really realize the mistake.
The pain was getting worse, and she forced herself to look at her lap, and was momentarily silenced, mid-sentence, because though she hadn't had the opportunity to stare at blood recently (excluding the last time she shaved), but the sight of it still forced her to silence.
That couldn't be good, could it?
Shit. Shit shit shit.
"I think I ... I think I have to go to the hospital," she murmured weakly. She'd actually said this twice to Bakura, and both times the words felt foreign coming from her mouth. She hated hospitals. And to be safe, she said it again, hopefully in english, though it turned out she did it backwards and used Japanese instead.
Bakura listened to her, letting go of the bottle now and moving over to be ready to set the phone down. Hospital? "W-what happened?" Asking her that now was probably a horrible thing to do. If she needed to go, she needed to go, right? "Call an ambulance," he instructed her. "I'll meet you at the hospital instead."
He didn't even bother to ask her if that's what she wanted. He'd be there for her now, whether she appreciated the company or not.
This was not likely something that occured often to Bakura, who liked to take things he wanted, but even in pain, Anzu thought about things like this.
"Those are so ... expensive," she managed weakly, though the excuse was a bad one. Damnit, this had been a really nice dress, and now it was stained. It was rather disgusting, really.
Taxi would be more efficent and she'd get there easily enough. If she really was just going into premature labor, then they didn't have a lot to worry about, right?
"Can't I take a Taxi?" she asked, voice similiar to a child asking, "Can't we have candy instead of brocoli?"
Resisting the urge to argue with her, Bakura simply replied, "Whatever gets you out of the house faster." Sighing deeply, he added, "I'll pay for the ambulance though if you take it." He couldn't quite refund his plane ticket but money was easy enough to come by.
Easier for him than most people, perhaps, but there were always advantages to breaking the law.
"What hospital?" It was probably a miracle that he remembered to ask.
Oh, just talking was starting to hurt. He was making her think, and this was something she was having problems with right about now.
"I... umm..." She stood up, turning around, and then suddenly gasped. "I fucking bled on the couch. That's not going to come out. Damnit."
He smiled at that, though really, it wasn't something he should smile over. "We'll turn the cushion over," he told her, though he doubted that would do any good. She really shouldn't be wasting time.
"How about the hospital I went to?" Hopefully she'd agree because quite frankly, he wasn't sure he could navigate to any other's at the moment. Funny that he had that problem sober.
Then, quietly, "Anzu? ... I love you."
Right. Concentrate. Her eyes mildly caught a rather conspicuous trail of blood and could help exlaiming, "Not the carpet! This is new! Oh, god."
Luckily, he couldn't chastize, because this time, she'd switched to Japanese on purpose.
"Nene, what ... oh, ow, what hospital was that? I don't remember..." She racked her head for a moment. That was a pretty far drive from here. "Saint Daniels, it's two blocks away from here. By..." What was it by...? "It's by that... that park. The one you were ... fuck sleeping in that one night."
His second statement was almost missed, as she had a sneaking desire to go see her bed. If she'd started bleeding in there, she should probably go and put the sheets in the wash. But she managed to focus because the pain tore her away from her thoughts, and he was well timed.
"I love you too." she managed weakly, feeling like she wanted to cry again.
"Saint Daniels," Bakura repeated, trying to picture it in his head. Her description of where it was didn't really help. That park that he slept in. There were a lot of those. He'd always liked a change of scenery. "Alright, I'll find it." It could only be so far, right? Two blocks from her house and towards a park. He'd get there.
He was glad to hear her respond though he didn't acknowledge it, "Call the taxi or whatever. I'll see you soon."
She had meant that park she'd found him in. She didn't really know that he'd made a habit of sleeping in parks. It was after fight one, or two, or three... She couldn't recall.
There was a moment of realizing she was stepping on the Thief King rollercoaster, again, and more than likely by the end of it, she'd feel sick and dizzy like she always did. but unfortunately, she'd have aquired a baby somewhere along the way, who didn't have time for her to feel sick or dizzy.
Even still...
"Yes. I'll see you there."
She didn't even give him time to try and say goodbye, hanging up and dialing the number for the taxi. It promised to be there in five minutes, which gave her just enough time to put her sheets in the wash. And maybe put some carpet cleaner on the trail so she could scrub it out later...
Couldn't forget the couch, either...
Owwowow.
Maybe it could wait.
Six days. It had only been six days since Anzu had chased him out of the house. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach that wasn't quite regret. After all, what did he have to regret? His drinking? He'd been that way since long before she'd met him. If she'd gone into the relationship with the desire to change him, it wasn't worth his time. Truthfully, though, he wasn't sure he cared if it was 'worth his time' or not.
She was something beyond the concept of time at all.
That thought didn't even really make sense. What had he been drinking, anyway? He glanced idly over to the bottle, trying to read the label. To his dismay, it was turned away from him, though he did get a good glimpse of the clock. 2:35 blinked in bright red letters, staring him down.
Shit, his flight was at four, wasn't it? He needed to get moving then. He'd packed earlier in the day (before he'd hit the bottle) so as far as most things were concerned, he was set. All except for one thing...
Calling her was probably a horrible idea but that didn't stop him from picking up the phone and dialing her number. It was, in all honesty, the only phone number he'd bothered learning (although he did remember the last four digits of the number for the Pizza Hut down the street). He listened quietly as the phone rang. Would she even pick up? Part of him doubted severely that she'd bother but worst came to worst, he could leave a message.
She'd been given three rules last time she was at the OB-GYN. They were simple, and to ensure she wouldn't show up in the delivery room early. She hadn't really paid attention to them, until now, since she'd written them on her vanity mirror in very red lipstick. (That had always been a way for her to leave reminders to herself. She'd could remember, writing a note for Bakura on the mirror with the last of some old lipstick, and he'd chuckle about it from behind her on the bed.)
One. Cut down on activity, and sleep as much as you can. She figured that she'd already been doing that, having basically hid herself in the apartment ever since walking around made her back hurt. In theory, she should sleep as much as she could, because later on, there wouldn't be time. Newborns apparently woke you up all the time, and sleep would soon become a distant memory.
Two. Eat More! Her doctor had stressed that every time she'd seen her, but she hadn't really listened then or now. At least she was forcing herself to actually eat something -- usually when upset, she'd just go without, as if she didn't need it to function like normal human beings. There was a half-eaten salad on the counter in her kitchen, where she'd left it after she couldn't force any more down her throat.
Three. Avoid anything stressful, from laughing too hard or crying about something. This was probably her most noticable failure. Case and point, the graveyard of damp tissues cluttering her bed. Having Bakura here had been stressful, but not having him could possibly make her feel even worse. She'd said once, that it didn't make sense for her to breathe anymore when he was gone, and she realized how honest a statement that had been. If she weren't pregnant, she might have considered mixing medicene with alcohol, or taking a long walk off her short balcony. She'd never been suicidal before, not even after her ... drama with the first Bakura (though thank god, that hadn't been at all romantic), just disgusted and disturbed. So it was definitely a new feeling, and she forced herself to wonder how she'd let him get so close so he could hurt her so badly.
She'd made a habit of never really opening up -- even though she opened up more for Bakura than she usually did, there were probably a lot of things about her he didn't know (likely because he didn't care one way or another -- thinking it would somehow safeguard her from pain. And her one foray away from the security blanket of herself had left her depressed, suicidal, pregnant, and painfully alone.
Along with her phobias of heights and confined spaces, there was the constant fear of being alone. And now, like it always was eventually, she was realizing that fear and how badly it shook her. She couldn't sleep, eat, or think properly when she felt truly alone, and she'd felt that alone for ... six days now.
It was killing her.
She didn't even realize she was crying, most of the time. She'd just wipe at her face and the kleenex would come back wet. It was strange, to feel sort of away from herself. She could only hope that she was about to hit bottom, because she had to go back to normal eventually, didn't she?
The phone ringing peirced through her thoughts, making her head hurt, and bringing her back for a moment. She could hear the steady thrum of the fan, and the tick of her clock. The sniffs of her own crying.
Jesus, her stomach hurt.
Did she really want to answer the phone? It was two in the morning, it was probably one of those weird kids across the hall giving her a prank call. She hated it when they did that. Her answering machine apparently had three missed calls. Funny, she hadn't heard them...
She coughed, the action making her stomach hurt worse. Maybe she should eat something... But she reached for the phone, anyway. If someone asked her if her refridgerator was running, they were going to have a colourful monolouge coming their way.
"Moshi Moshi?" She managed weakly, somehow not being capable of covering the hoarseness and painful emotion left over from crying. Not the way she had intended to answer, to be sure. She'd been so good at hiding everything, what the hell was wrong with her?
The fact that she'd answered at all shocked Bakura. He was silent for a moment, reflecting on the way her voice sounded. It'd be a miracle if she didn't hang up on him the moment he spoke, wouldn't it? Perhaps he should choose his words carefully, get out exactly what it was he wanted to say.
They would have worked wonderfully if he'd had any idea of what it was he wanted to say. Instead, he drew a blank. He wasn't even sure why he'd decided to call her now. Was it just instinct? He wanted to say good-bye to the person he cared about. He grabbed the nameless bottle again, chugging down quickly whatever contents were left and smashing the bottom against the night stand. The fucking maid could clean that up after he left.
He really needed to say something. "Anzu." Yes, that was classic. Clever. Wonderful. Perfect. Clearing his throat (and tasting the alcohol momentarily for a second time), he added, "I just wanted to give a quick call." She'd told him to stay away from her, hadn't she? That she needed her space? Calling was probably a mistake.
"I'm getting ready to leave." Because she needed to know that. "Uhm, did you get the stuff I sent you?"
He was sober. Why was he sober?
She was greeted with silence. A lot of silence. She was about to hang up the when someone said her name. It was mumbled, but it was her name, which kept her from hanging up.
When she did realize who it was, she did feel tempted to hang up. Sure, she'd been dying to hear his voice, but she didn't really want him to know that. She almost wished she could take back answering the phone, so he wouldn't know she had been crying.
The silence stretched long enough to leave wonder if she'd hung up before she managed weakly, "Where are you going?"
Of course she wanted to know. Why? She wasn't sure. Maybe it would be easier to visualize what he was doing if she knew where he would be. Would he be drinking sake, or Egyptian Beer? Would pale japanese whores be in his bed, or beautiful, exotic egyptian ones? She shook her head, she didn't want to think about that. Sure, he probably would sleep with someone... Who wouldn't, when you had just escaped from your fat, contolling, ugly, pregnant ex?
Yes, she definitely had to stop thinking about this. Her self esteem was bad enough already.
The next thing she replied to in rather scrambled Japanese, before she rectified, "What stuff?" It meant the same thing, and he probably would have known what she was talking about without the english, but still.
Maybe it was a miracle that he wasn't greeted with a dial tone, though for a good while, Bakura was pretty sure he'd hear one soon. When she spoke, however, his heart skipped a beat in his chest. She was talking to him. It shouldn't have been nearly as incredible as it felt and yet, it was.
"Home," he mumbled, giving the room a quick glance. There had to be more alcohol here. Had to. He couldn't do any of this sober. He chuckled dryly, changing that statement, "I can't go home. Egypt, I guess." It was as close to home as he'd ever get again. "Area right outside of Cairo where I grew up." He wasn't sure why he was giving her details. Besides, that area was nothing but ruins. It had been ruins when he'd lived there in the past, too, though.
What stuff? Had she really not seen it? He'd been careful to place it somewhere that he thought would have been obvious. "I left you some money and something for the baby," he explained. "It should be... in the kitchen? Counter by the stove."
"I... I don't think that I've... really left my bedroom for awhile." That was a rather painful truth to say out loud, but it was true. She felt like she should ask when he came and if he'd seen a half eaten salad, so she could know exactly how long she'd been in here now. She could have sworn that she'd eaten it this afternoon, but now that she thought about it, she was rather hungry. Maybe that was why he stomach was hurting.
"You're... You're leaving?" She let that sink in. She had said she wanted some space, but she hadn't anticipated the distance being so ... far.
There was another silence, as she tried to keep from bursting into tears again. He was doing what she wanted, so why was she getting emotional? Again?
He could probably hear the sound of the springs of her bed creaking as she got up to go to the kitchen. The salad she remembered eating this afternoon didn't look so fresh. Maybe it wasn't this afternoon... If she didn't know better, she would have said it was four days old.
Knowing this wasn't terribly healthy for the baby, she murmured a rather dark curse under her breath, tossing the stinking mass into the trash, plate and all. Hopefully if she had a little more than usual tonight, it wouldn't be a problem.
"Is it a box?" She murmured, examining a rather foreign looking box perched on her countertop. She fingered the edge of the cardboard, wondering if he'd put his fingers here previously. Now she was borderlining on creepy...
"Will you come back?" She whispered, almost completely forgetting that the sentence before had changed the subject.
The idea that she hadn't left her room made Bakura increasingly wary. When he'd been around, half of the time he had to force her or remind her to eat. Hopefully, she'd taken good enough care of herself in the time that he'd been gone.
Leaving. "Uh, yeah," Bakura replied, climbing off of his own bed and moving over to the mini-fridge. Part of him felt guilty for drinking all the overpriced drinks, considering Mokuba was footing the bill on this room, but it was something he couldn't help. Addiction? They set it in front of him, like bait, and he bit it.
She cursed and while he wanted to know why, he figured unless she told him, it wasn't his business. At least, not anymore. "Yes, it's a box. I didn't know how else to leave it." Her next question made his chest ache slightly, a feeling he didn't quite understand. Thankfully, he had some vodka left over. Reaching for that, he popped it open and took a small sip. "I..."
He hadn't planned on coming back, truthfully. He'd planned to head to Egypt and if he couldn't stand it there, go elsewhere. Quietly, he murmured, "Any time you wanted me back, I'd be on the next flight."
Her head was starting to pound, and there was a sudden jot of pain in her stomach. Okay, yeah, she had to eat something. She opened the fridge, hopeing there would be some sort of food she could eat, but all that was there was a half-finished case of diet coke and a browning lemon.
She couldn't be so missing that she had nothing in the fridge, could she? What the hell? She felt tempted to curse again, and did so, but this time she also complained in Japanese that there had to be something physically wrong with her.
On the other line, he probably was wondering if she were drunk. Speaking of drunk, he sounded ... sober. He wasn't slurring or ...
No, she wasn't going to think about that.
Upon investigating the cupboards, she found some old animal crackers, but the sight made her unbelievably nauseous. Ow ow ow. Pain. She forced one into her mouth, though it made it want her to puke.
"How would you know? If I ... wanted you back? I won't know ... where you are."
He set the bottle down, a concerned expression gracing his lips. She didn't sound so well. He hated how much effort it was taking to not just drop the phone and go to her, check on her, take care of her. The problem was that she didn't want him around. Well, at least she said she didn't. He couldn't tell if it was his ego or what, but something pulled at him, trying to persuade him that she did want him there.
And how would he know? There was no set way, really. Not if he was off in Egypt. He didn't have a cell phone so it's not like there was a number that she could reach him at. "... I don't know," he answered, voice sounding slightly exasperated.
His head was starting to ache. Could one get withdrawal from going without alcohol for too long? It hadn't even been that long but gods, he wanted it. "Would you even really want me to come back?"
The question disgusted him. The last thing he needed was to need her to say yes and yet, that's what his body was aching for. Even more than the alcohol. "I'm... trying to do what you asked," he muttered. "Trying to stay away with you but," he paused for a moment, "I can't do it if I stay here."
The pain in her head was verging on excruciating, so she decided the best idea was to sit down. The sofa wasn't too far away, so she headed for that. The coffee table had apparently gotten in Bakura's way one time too many, so it was propped up against the wall. She hadn't bothered to move it back, but at the moment, she was sort of glad it was gone.
He was trying to do what she wanted. Which was sweet, really. But this hadn't been what she wanted at all. Another flash of pain raced through her head, making her almost moan. She managed not to. What the hell was going on?
"I don't want you to be so far away..." She said rather distantly, the fact she was crying very obvious in the statement. Once that was said, words continued spilling out without her being able to stop them. "I want you to be here, when the baby is born, I want you to..."
Another flash of pain. She hissed audibly, falling into silence until it faded.
Hearing her tears put a lump in his throat and his hand reached to the bottle though it lingered there, not moving in one direction or the other. "I..." Giving the clock a brief glance, Bakura gave a small grunt of frustration. So much for his flight.
She sounded horrible though. "Give me ten minutes and I can be at your door?" She had said she wanted him there when the baby was born but he wanted to be there now. He'd given her enough of what she wanted, hadn't he?
She sniffed, feeling a little better that he was coming, though it didn't make the pain any better. She said something about being sorry, that she was so pathetic, something about the coffee table tossed in there at random, though he probably couldn't understand a word, because she'd switched to Japanese and didn't really realize the mistake.
The pain was getting worse, and she forced herself to look at her lap, and was momentarily silenced, mid-sentence, because though she hadn't had the opportunity to stare at blood recently (excluding the last time she shaved), but the sight of it still forced her to silence.
That couldn't be good, could it?
Shit. Shit shit shit.
"I think I ... I think I have to go to the hospital," she murmured weakly. She'd actually said this twice to Bakura, and both times the words felt foreign coming from her mouth. She hated hospitals. And to be safe, she said it again, hopefully in english, though it turned out she did it backwards and used Japanese instead.
Bakura listened to her, letting go of the bottle now and moving over to be ready to set the phone down. Hospital? "W-what happened?" Asking her that now was probably a horrible thing to do. If she needed to go, she needed to go, right? "Call an ambulance," he instructed her. "I'll meet you at the hospital instead."
He didn't even bother to ask her if that's what she wanted. He'd be there for her now, whether she appreciated the company or not.
This was not likely something that occured often to Bakura, who liked to take things he wanted, but even in pain, Anzu thought about things like this.
"Those are so ... expensive," she managed weakly, though the excuse was a bad one. Damnit, this had been a really nice dress, and now it was stained. It was rather disgusting, really.
Taxi would be more efficent and she'd get there easily enough. If she really was just going into premature labor, then they didn't have a lot to worry about, right?
"Can't I take a Taxi?" she asked, voice similiar to a child asking, "Can't we have candy instead of brocoli?"
Resisting the urge to argue with her, Bakura simply replied, "Whatever gets you out of the house faster." Sighing deeply, he added, "I'll pay for the ambulance though if you take it." He couldn't quite refund his plane ticket but money was easy enough to come by.
Easier for him than most people, perhaps, but there were always advantages to breaking the law.
"What hospital?" It was probably a miracle that he remembered to ask.
Oh, just talking was starting to hurt. He was making her think, and this was something she was having problems with right about now.
"I... umm..." She stood up, turning around, and then suddenly gasped. "I fucking bled on the couch. That's not going to come out. Damnit."
He smiled at that, though really, it wasn't something he should smile over. "We'll turn the cushion over," he told her, though he doubted that would do any good. She really shouldn't be wasting time.
"How about the hospital I went to?" Hopefully she'd agree because quite frankly, he wasn't sure he could navigate to any other's at the moment. Funny that he had that problem sober.
Then, quietly, "Anzu? ... I love you."
Right. Concentrate. Her eyes mildly caught a rather conspicuous trail of blood and could help exlaiming, "Not the carpet! This is new! Oh, god."
Luckily, he couldn't chastize, because this time, she'd switched to Japanese on purpose.
"Nene, what ... oh, ow, what hospital was that? I don't remember..." She racked her head for a moment. That was a pretty far drive from here. "Saint Daniels, it's two blocks away from here. By..." What was it by...? "It's by that... that park. The one you were ... fuck sleeping in that one night."
His second statement was almost missed, as she had a sneaking desire to go see her bed. If she'd started bleeding in there, she should probably go and put the sheets in the wash. But she managed to focus because the pain tore her away from her thoughts, and he was well timed.
"I love you too." she managed weakly, feeling like she wanted to cry again.
"Saint Daniels," Bakura repeated, trying to picture it in his head. Her description of where it was didn't really help. That park that he slept in. There were a lot of those. He'd always liked a change of scenery. "Alright, I'll find it." It could only be so far, right? Two blocks from her house and towards a park. He'd get there.
He was glad to hear her respond though he didn't acknowledge it, "Call the taxi or whatever. I'll see you soon."
She had meant that park she'd found him in. She didn't really know that he'd made a habit of sleeping in parks. It was after fight one, or two, or three... She couldn't recall.
There was a moment of realizing she was stepping on the Thief King rollercoaster, again, and more than likely by the end of it, she'd feel sick and dizzy like she always did. but unfortunately, she'd have aquired a baby somewhere along the way, who didn't have time for her to feel sick or dizzy.
Even still...
"Yes. I'll see you there."
She didn't even give him time to try and say goodbye, hanging up and dialing the number for the taxi. It promised to be there in five minutes, which gave her just enough time to put her sheets in the wash. And maybe put some carpet cleaner on the trail so she could scrub it out later...
Couldn't forget the couch, either...
Owwowow.
Maybe it could wait.