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Tendershipping Drabbles 1/2

If it wasn't enough that the birds were noisily gawking outside, a new arrival had appeared in the block of flats. The noise of the van was devastating, and it hurt to listen to. They couldn't have been louder, and it wasn't necessarily that late into the afternoon either. It was a Saturday morning, and basically it was too loud.

On the second highest floor, in the furthest room of these flats, was where a young man resided. His name was Bakura. He was particularly high-standard, and his ratings for most things were high. He didn't rate something over a five, unless he absolutely and certainly was sure that he could face his rating with the utmost content and happiness.

But it wasn't objects that Bakura usually rated. It was people. And right now, at this moment in time, he was about to rate the movers and the person moving into the flat, a very low score of naught.

His dark, rusty eyes scanned the window, out onto the messy grass below. It was unusually sunny for this part of town, and Bakura wasn't happy with that. He liked the dark atmosphere, and the pitch of the night. It was soothing. It was also one of the things he rated that wasn't a person, and he rated the dark with a magnificent nine.

He slowly looked into the window, now distracted by his own reflection. He frowned. If Bakura was honest, he looked like a serial killer right now. His hair was messy, and his demeanour was all wrong. But he somehow enjoyed the creepy look. Heck, he may be able to go have some 'fun' by scaring the new resident.

The flat itself was a cheapskate in the making. People hardly ever moved in, and when they did it was because they knew the area well and wanted to join in with the gangs that hung about, or it was because the rent was cheap.

Bakura was the latter of those two options. He assumed the new resident was too, as when he spied on their belongings he didn't see a lot of things. One thing he did notice though was a distinct colour range in objects. It was very subtle. Usually residents had bashed, old green minty things, along with some red ornaments or some odd shapes here and there (sometimes the random weapon), but this time it was different.

All of the objects ranged from modules of people, and they were tiny too. The main themed colours were black and white. This confused Bakura - he had never seen anything like this before.

Letting out a deep sigh, he ruffled his white mane before deciding to make himself known. If this person was as innocent as their array as objects suggested, why would they be moving in here? Surely, Bakura thought, they must know of the dangers in this area?

He walked to the door of his flat, his eyes now semi-closed in confusion. This was going to be a long, exhausting day. And it was a Saturday. Bakura would have better things to do right now, like shower, or watch as a bloody fight erupted in the gardens of this block.

Nevertheless, he continued out the door and down the corridor to the elevator. The whole block was old, and rotten, and with it's bad reputation it was no wonder gangs had decided to make it their homeland.

Not that Bakura gave much attention to them, anyway. He didn't care about them, but what he did care about was the damage they caused. It annoyed him to see cuts and things in the wall, and it also annoyed him to see bloodshed in the elevators and on random floors. He could never quite understand how this building was still 'alive'.

He slowly pressed the button, and waited for the elevator to arrive. To Bakura's knowledge, the elevator hadn't had any renovations since this block of flats had been built, and it was extremely unstable. For the new resident's sake, Bakura hoped that they weren't using the lift. But when it opened up, he wasn't surprised when he saw boxes piled up. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.