Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Fear ❯ Chapter 3

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Bakura's was discharged from the hospital the next day, his injuries minimal and his body physically strong enough to deal with the toxins from the carbon monoxide. The tomb robber ventured in to Ryou's ward to check up on his tenshi, who had sunk, weak with shock, in to a deep sleep. Ryou was awake when Bakura sat with him, smiling happily that the yami was all right, asking concernedly for news of his house, of which Bakura had none, but when the conversation turned to Malik… Ryou's eyes deadened and he looked away, refusing to speak any more. Malik was the only one left to visit, in a private ward in one of the other wings. His injuries had been extensive; the inhalation of the deadly fumes almost proving fatal, the terrible burns on his back and, of course, the fall from the first storey when the floor collapsed had already taken their toll on the young Egyptian. Malik was lying facedown on a bed, the covers around his waist, naked from there upward and a large, bloodstained bandaged covering his injuries. Bakura silently sat next to the platinum blond, feeling quite guilty about the whole thing. It was his fault that the fire had started; there was no one else to blame. He had overreacted at finding Ryou in Malik's embrace and his rash actions afterwards could easily have been fatal for all of them. Was he just lucky that Malik had come off worst? But though Malik was his enemy and his slave, the tomb robber found himself looking sadly down at the limp form. It was true that he had risked his own life to save the tanned teenager, but it was his fault that Malik needed saving in the first place. Bakura brushed a straggled lock of blond hair from Malik's eyes, staring at him for a moment. He had never appreciated before how handsome Malik was - the tan of his lean, sylphlike body, the woven gold of his hair, the strange yet beautifully haunting lilac of his eyes - would those eyes remain closed forever because of his carelessness? Bakura jerked his hand away in surprise as Malik began to whimper, writhing in his sleep. His lips were moving; Bakura could hear what he was moaning. “Papa! Papa! Please stop, it hurts! Please stop, Papa! You're hurting me, stop hurting me! Oh - oh…” Bakura felt his shoulders slump and his face contort in pity as another moan was drawn out of the boy. “Mama… Mama… where's Mama? I want my Mama… Oh, Mama, Mama, where are you…?” Against his instincts, the white-haired tomb robber felt himself reaching a hand out to stroke Malik's hair comfortingly in an attempt to calm the other teenager down unless he hurt himself. “Shh… I'm here, Malik… I'm here…” He murmured softly - there didn't really seem to be much else to do. All feuds and hatred were forgotten at the sight of the Egyptian writhing and whimpering so. The tactics seemed to be working; Malik slowly stopped whimpering, but, as Bakura drew his hand away, the unconscious teenager arched his back, screaming. “Take it out! Oh Ra, Marik, please take it out! No, no, no! Not again, please not again! Let me go, oh Ra, oh gods! Marik, let me go!” The screams subsided to incoherent sobs as Bakura leapt up and held Malik firmly, gingerly aware of the wounds on his back, yet desperately trying to stop him from hurting himself more. The cold, solid meaning of the howled words hit home in the tomb robber, and he almost let go of Malik in frozen shock. Was that - could that have been an unconscious confession of what the lilac-eyed teenager's yami had done to him? Bakura was unaware of the conversation that had passed between Ryou and Malik before he had walked in on them, but if he knew then his mind would have been made up. So that was why Malik was so dead and emotionless. It was inhumane to keep someone abused so a prisoner for any longer. Bakura vowed, as soon as Malik awoke, to grant the Egyptian his freedom. As though the comatose Malik had heard his thoughts, with a great shuddering inhalation the tanned teenager opened his eyes, tensing at the rush of pain from his back and the torn skin on his arm from the collapsing roof. “Ba… ku… ra…?” He gasped as the agony flared, leaning in to Bakura's hand, which was still caressing his cheek gently. The tomb robber stiffened. “You said my name.” He said flatly, and Malik slumped back in to the bed. “S-sorry… M-Master…” “It's… it's ok…” Say it again, oh Ra! Bakura shook his head, trying to unthink what his brain was screaming, but to no avail. Had he really gone from hate to love that quickly? “But why would you say my name?” “Y-you... saved my… l-life…” Malik emitted a strained exhalation, staring at his torn, bloody arm. “Oh… look at me… I look dreadful…” “No, you don't…” Bakura murmured comfortingly. Ra, I sound like Ryou! “You look beautiful.” “B-beautiful?” “Yes, beautiful.” A new voice answered from the doorway. Ryou limped in to the ward, his eyes filled with gratitude as he glanced at Bakura. “You'll always be beautiful, no matter what scars you.” Scars… He'll carry those scars for always - because of me… I've gone too far… The white haired yami closed his eyes and swallowed. “Listen… Malik… you can leave my service. You no longer have to pay off the debt you owe to me. I grant you your freedom.” There was a joyous cry and Ryou wrapped his arms around Bakura, smiling happily at the Thief King before looking expectantly at Malik. The British hikari's face fell. Malik was crying. “Are you all right?” The mild-mannered teenager asked concernedly as Malik took great gulping breaths to calm himself. “D-don't kick me out!” He begged. “I d-don't have anywhere to go except back to M-Marik…” The lilac eyes grew wide and fearful. “Oh, please don't send me back to Marik!” “Hey, hey… Malik… it's ok…” Ryou moved away from Bakura to caress Malik's cheek gently. “You can stay with us, ok? You can stay. You'll have to pull your own weight, mind.” The Briton glanced at Bakura, who nodded slightly. Malik leaned in to the comforting touch. “Th-thank you… thank you so much…” --- It was a week before Malik was discharged from the hospital. Ryou was quite concerned that, according to the doctors, the Egyptian's body had been injured seriously internally as well, but he did not mention it to Malik and requested that the doctors do the same. It wouldn't do Malik good to know that Marik (as undoubtedly was the cause) was affecting him so. Poor Ryou was the only source of conversation between Malik and Bakura, who didn't speak to each other much. Malik, because he was still quite scared of Bakura and his wild outbursts of temper, and Bakura because he realised that he had hurt the boy so much. Which is the reason why Ryou was sitting curled up on his yami's lap, wrapped comfortingly in the strong arms, staring uneasily at Malik, who was some distance away on the other sofa. It was a typical evening these days. After school and homework were finished, Ryou and Bakura would help Malik finish the chores that were piled upon him and all three would settle down to watch television, a secret pleasure for Malik after his technology-deprived childhood. But Ryou always seemed to wind up in Bakura's arms, while Malik edged further away, as though there were a mental rift. Ryou was worried and confused - he knew he really liked Bakura, that much was obvious, but whenever he thought of Malik he had a strange twang in his stomach. After Bakura had told Ryou privately about Malik's words in his delirium, Ryou had come to realise something else about the platinum-blond: under his confident, Sex God exterior, Malik was just a scared, lost little boy, alone in a country that was not his own, without family or friends to guide him through his increasingly downhill life. A lot like Ryou himself, really. “Hey, Malik…?” The introvert white-haired boy found himself murmuring. “Come and sit with me…” “Wh-what?” The Egyptian asked uncertainly. “Come and sit with me and Bakura, Malik. Come on.” Ryou inclined his head and gestured with his hands, imploring that Malik listen to him. The lilac-eyed boy, after some hesitation, rose to sit next to the two others. Bakura shifted uncomfortably at being in such close proximity to the person he had hurt so much, but Ryou reached an arm out of his tight embrace to pull Malik closer, hugging him to his yami. Malik stared down at the arm in some surprise, but made no move to remove it. “Listen,” Ryou began drowsily, tearing his eyes away from the flickering screen. “Back when Malik broke the mirror, I looked in the shards to see my reflections with each of you. None of the shards showed me with both of you; maybe it was fate that made them fall like that.” Ryou pulled himself away from Bakura with a small sigh, standing and turning to look at the other two teenagers, who were both quite uncomfortable at being so close to each other. “I want to give it a chance. I can't choose between you, I love you both so much - you're both special to me in your own way. Please, can we give it a try? All three of us?” Both Bakura and Malik nodded slightly, though neither looked at the other, and Ryou smiled slightly. “Um… I'llneed to two to lighten up…?” He asked hopefully. Bakura looked at him, then glanced at Malik, then fixed his gaze firmly on the floor. “Can you… forgive me, Malik? For hurting you like I did?” He asked tonelessly, and the blond Egyptian smiled. “Of course… Bakura… and can you in turn forgive me for all I have done to you?” “Yes… oh Ra, Malik!” Bakura flung his arms around the stunned teenager, pulling him closer. Malik whimpered in to the embrace and Ryou found himself watching fondly as Bakura's mouth captured the lilac-eyed one's in an almost-chaste kiss. Malik and Bakura broke apart at last, both looking innocently happy, an expression which was surprising for people with such reputations. “Live happily ever after?” He asked in a soft voice, joining the embrace. “No one lives happily… not forever…” Malik murmured in to Bakura's chest. “But we could give it a try?” Ryou glanced at Bakura, who smiled and nodded, and both said in almost perfect unison: “Yes. Let's.” ---