Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ How to Save a Life ❯ How It Is: Unsettling ( Chapter 9 )

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and especially to those who have taken the time to review this story. I really appreciate it!

... So a lot of people seem to find Malik an asshole. He is a bit of a wanker, isn't he? (Giggles) But I still love him, and so does Ryou -- so I guess that's all that really matters?

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Can we make this something good?

- Daughtry (It's Not Over)

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Ryou seated himself comfortably on the brown leather sofa, removing his heavy winter coat and setting it on the free space of cushion beside him. Chocolate-brown orbs took in the warm decor of the bakery, eventually landing on the tall blonde-haired man at the front of the ordering line.

 

Malik was smiling that typical charming smile of his at the young girl behind the counter, his lilac eyes skimming the menu as he asked her a question. She giggled flirtatiously, flipped a strand of hair over her shoulder, and pointed to one of the many delicacies offered on display.

 

Ryou's lips twitched downwards, a frown disgruntling his features. Malik smiled once again, laughed, and held up his right hand to indicate two of something.

 

The whitenette tore his gaze away and picked a magazine up off of the table, flipping it open and scanning the pages for an interesting article to read. Several minutes later Malik approached, two steaming mugs of coffee in his hands and a small box tucked under his left arm. Ryou blinked, raising his gaze from the magazine as one of the mugs was placed on the small wooden table before him.

 

“What's this?” he asked, folding the magazine and setting it aside whilst taking the mug into possession.

 

“Caramel macchiato,” the Egyptian replied, placing his own mug on the table as he took a seat next to the albino.

 

Ryou placed his lips against the smooth rim, daintily sipping the dark liquid. Malik turned his body slightly to the side so the other could see the box in his lap. Slowly, the tanned hands rose to lift the lid, revealing what treasure lay hidden beneath.

 

Ryou's eyes widened considerably, mouth falling open in pleasant surprise. “Are... are those...?”

 

Malik grinned, tipping his head forward in an affirmative nod. “Of course. I'd never forget my Baby's favorite treat.”

 

The twenty-seven-year-old whipped his head upwards, skeptical.

 

Baby... my Baby...

 

“Hey, Baby.”

 

“Baby, what's wrong?”

 

“I love you, Baby.”

 

“... Not now, Baby.”

 

“No, Baby, I just need some space.”

 

“For Christ's sake, Babe! Get off my back!”

 

Ryou forced the images from his mind, reminding himself that the past could not be changed and that he needed to look to the future. Forgive and forget. It was time to move on, not dwell on the misfortunes of adolescence. This was the future... and sitting beside him was Malik Ishtar; Malik Ishtar had returned to him, just as he'd prayed for in his dreams.

 

Forgive and forget... I love you. Let's start over.

 

“Malik... you still love me, don't you?”

 

A tentative smile, followed shortly afterwards by a familiar pair of strong arms winding around a petite and unclothed waist.

 

“Of course, Baby. Of course I do. I'll never stop loving you.”

 

Hesitantly a pale hand strayed from Ryou's side, plucking one of the pastries from within the box. “I... I haven't had one of these in years,” he admitted, appearing uncertain as to whether or not he wanted to risk eating the delicacy.

 

“What? Really?” Lavender eyes blinked rapidly, Malik seeming extremely surprised to learn this. He leaned forward, expecting some sort of great explanation. “Why?”

 

Ryou glanced away and shrugged his shoulders in an uncomfortable fashion before wrapping his lips around the creampuff and chewing thoughtfully. Brown orbs rolled back in ecstasy - Malik's heart skipped a beat at the pleasured expression, a lump forming in his throat.

 

“They taste as good as I remember,” Ryou clarified after swallowing, an action which the Egyptian mimicked rather loudly.

 

Malik scooted away from Ryou very slightly, placing the box in-between them and then reaching out for his macchiato.

 

They lapsed into silence, Malik tasting his drink and Ryou daring to consume three more pastry puffs. Neither knew exactly what to say. What could they possibly talk about? It had been so long; there was a multitude of things they could discuss - things that needed to be discussed - but... those subjects were all so painful... to uncomfortable to even mention.

 

“So...”

 

Ryou glanced up, studying the Egyptian's face and noticing rather quickly that those lovely lilac jewels were fixated on something else entirely. Following the smoldering gaze, he realized that Malik was staring at his left hand. Curling his ring-less fingers into his palm, Ryou chanced a peek at Malik's own left hand. Relief flooded his system as he realized that, just like him, the blonde had no wedding ring that bound him to another.

 

Knowing now what Malik was planning on asking him, the whitenette shook his head from side to side. “No, I'm not married.”

 

“I thought for sure you would be,” Malik confessed with a smile, placing his hand overtop of the smaller, pallid appendage belonging to Ryou. The albino did not make an attempt to move. “I mean, look at you... You're so beautiful. I thought for sure... well... I thought that you'd have men all over you, fighting for your hand.” His dark, bony fingers laced through Ryou's, and he marveled at the warmth and softness the other's skin still retained.

 

To his surprise, Ryou's lips twitched upwards in an uncharacteristic smirk. “What makes you think there's not?” he wanted to know, silver eyebrows raised quizzically. “I said I wasn't married, not that I wasn't with someone.”

 

In the back of his mind, the whitenette wondered how Malik would react should the blonde ever come to know of Ryou's secret profession. If Malik ever saw the men throwing money at his feet while he danced, groping at him, screaming lewd suggestions to him from below the stage, all in hopes of spending the night with him after his shift ended. What would Malik's view of his innocent ex-lover be if he ever witnessed Ryou selling his body, making fraudulent love to a complete stranger just to gain an extra few bucks.

 

Malik would never hold his hand like this, play with his fingers, and stare at him in that almost-flirtatious way, if he knew... if he knew what a whore the whitenette truly was.

 

Feeling rather dirty and ashamed of himself, Ryou wrenched his hand free from underneath Malik's, cradling it to his chest.

 

The lightly accented voice reached his ears. “Are you? With someone, that is.”

 

Ryou thought of Xander, who cared for him more than a client or best friend should, who made love to him because he was attracted to Ryou's personality instead of just his profession, who Ryou knew he could count on for almost anything. Xander who, despite how much Ryou wanted to and tried to, he could not feel that same type of love for.

 

“... Not exactly.”

 

This response seemed to only confuse Malik. “Not exactly?” he repeated, tilting his head to the side. “How does that work?”

 

Blushing in embarrassment, Ryou turned his vision elsewhere so that he would not have to see those heated lavender orbs burning into him. “Well... um, we've dated, but we're not together.”

 

“Do you love him?”

 

The albino bit down on his tongue to keep from bursting out and screaming that Malik had no right to interrogate him like this. Calming himself, form stiffening somewhat, he replied, “...That's really none of your business.”

 

Realizing that he would not be receiving a straight answer from the pale-skinned man, Malik wisely dropped the subject. He took another drink of his macchiato and then made to ask something else, but Ryou's voice - in a most sarcastic tone than he'd ever heard the whitenette use - interrupted him.

 

"What about you? Tied the knot yet, or is that a commitment too big for you?"

 

He couldn't really deny the fact. When it came to serious commitments, he did have a bit of a problem - that being his inane anxiety of having his freedom stolen. Ryou knew this better than anyone. Placing a hand over his heart, the Egyptian cracked a smile. “Ouch.”

 

In a quieter, more normal voice, the whitenette rephrased his inquiry. “Are you with anyone?”

 

Malik, for a moment, appeared hesitant. He wanted to respond in the same way the older male had to his question about being in love. Opening his mouth, he made to say something - but he snapped his jaw shut before any noise could come forth, suddenly appearing worried as he reconsidered his choice of words. For a moment he came across as being deep in thought, lost within a mental debate. Biting down on his lower lip, he finally shook his head. “No... no, I'm not.”

 

Ryou's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Now that's a shock.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“Well, yeah... I mean, look at you.”

 

The Egyptian smirked, taking full opportunity to draw forth a compliment from the twenty-seven-year-old. He leaned forward, eyelids lowering a fraction to give him an overall drowsy appearance. “What about me?” he wanted to know.

 

The whitenette shivered, slanting away from the toned body nearly brushing against his own. Malik's very masculine scent reached his nostrils, prevalent over all the other delectable smells of the bakery. Licking his thin, pink lips nervously, chocolate-brown orbs darted about the room, looking anywhere but at the man directly before him. Malik's smirk intensified and he dropped his voice an octave as he repeated the question.

 

“Huh, Baby? What about me?”

 

Cheeks burning, Ryou ducked his head - feeling altogether like a young teenager with raging hormones instead of a responsible grown man. His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest. Malik's face was close enough for the albino male to feel the hot, coffee-scented breath on his round face every time the Egyptian exhaled.

 

Why the hell was he so flustered? Ryou was accustomed to being close and intimate with other men. So why did it affect him when Malik Ishtar, of all people, flirted with him?

 

“You're... you're, you know...”

 

“No, I don't know. Tell me.”

 

Of course, Ryou was no fool. He knew the Egyptian was merely fishing for compliments. The fact angered him somewhat. Malik clearly knew of his amazing good looks and the affect his presence had on the albino - and yet he was using both to his advantage in order for Ryou to confess that he was still attracted to him.

 

That wanker...

 

Not willing to give Malik the satisfaction, pink lips twitched downwards in an uncaring frown as Ryou shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant fashion. “You're decent-looking,” he finally replied.

 

Malik's face fell, his jaw slackening. Obviously this was not the response he had been waiting for.

 

Ryou took his time in enjoying another creampuff. “So,” he drawled, taking pleasure in Malik's stupefied silence. “Why were you so adamant about taking me for coffee?”

 

Malik blinked rapidly, jostling from his thoughts and landing his vision on Ryou. “Well,” he began, gaining back his original teasing tone of voice. “I was getting around to asking you out...”

 

Milk chocolate orbs widened in disbelief. “What?! Are-are you drunk or something?”

 

The Egyptian shook his head. “Perfectly sober,” he assured, raising his right hand as if taking an oath. “I confess... seeing you now, after so long... well...” He cupped Ryou's cheek, gently outlining the rosebud lips with his thumb.

 

The indifferent façade dropped. Ryou trembled, eyes resembling those of a frightened animal.

 

“You're so beautiful.”

 

Closing his eyes sadly, Ryou turned his head away from Malik, more than tempted to break free of the affectionate touches. They were in a public building... and this, this was so wrong. But it felt... it felt so nice. Finally, Malik was looking at him in that adoring manner Ryou always yearned for him to. Finally, Malik was, in a way, acknowledging his mistake. Finally... Malik was making a step towards piecing together their broken relationship.

 

But it wasn't real... It couldn't be real. Malik was a liar by nature - a seducer.

 

“Why... why are you saying this to me?”

 

“I don't know, Ry. Honestly... Seeing you again... I guess I still have feelings for you, you know? Feelings that never went away. Maybe there's a reason we saw each other again after so long. Maybe this is Fate telling us we're supposed to get back together.”

 

Ryou swallowed the slowly-forming lump in his throat. “No, Malik... I don't want to get back together with you.”

 

It was only half-truthful. Part of him wanted nothing more than to throw himself at the Egyptian and beg for Malik to take him back, to kiss him and make love to him in front of everyone in the bakery, just to prove how much he still loved the blonde.

 

The reasonable side of him, however, accepted that getting involved with Malik Ishtar could only lead to pain. A relationship beyond friendship was off-limits - especially when it came to Malik.

 

Gathering his coat from the loveseat, Ryou hurriedly slipped his arms through the sleeves and worked on fastening the several large buttons. Once finished, he cast one last look at the Egyptian and shook his head.

 

“It was a mistake for me to come here. I don't want to get back together with you,” he repeated, voice firmer this time around, as he rose to his feet. “Please, leave me alone.”

 

Malik, surprised by the unexpected rejection, stood as well and stared across at the albino, bewildered. This... he had not even considered the fact that the whitenette wanted nothing to do with him in a romantic sense. After all, Ryou admitted to still being in love with him.

 

Lavender eyes watched passively as Ryou made his way out the door, never once stopping to look back. The bells overhead the entrance doors chimed melodiously, signaling the whitenette's hasty departure.

 

He'll never come back. If you let him go now, you'll never see him again. He'll never come back to you.

 

 

Malik didn't waste any time rushing after him. Exiting the bakery, he quickly caught up to the petite form, grabbing Ryou by the arm and spinning him around. He could barely detect the glisten of tears in the corner of the older male's eyes.

 

“What?” Ryou asked, trying to keep his expression as stoic as possible under the given circumstances.

 

The Egyptian pressed his lips together, swallowing the lump in his throat. To be honest, he really hadn't thought of anything to say during his pursuit of the other. Deciding it would be best if he just forgot the whole morning occurrence even happened, he sighed and heavily placed each of his hands on Ryou's shoulders. “I'm sorry,” he said, honestly. “I didn't... I didn't mean for things to turn out this way between us. I've been... I've been, well, --”

 

“A jerk?” Ryou supplied, glaring evenly at him.

 

Flushing in embarrassment, Malik laughed nervously. “Yeah, I guess that's the right word. I shouldn't have just... supposed that you'd want to get back together with me. I should have known you'd still be hurt even after all these years.”

 

“Hurt? Malik, I was more than hurt!”

 

“I-I know, Ry, I'm sorry... You know what I'm trying to say. I didn't mean for things to get so bad between us. Because, honestly, Ryou... I do care about you. I care about you as a person, and a part of me still has feelings for you - and I never even realized it until I saw you today. And...” he hung his head, sighing loudly. “I'm sorry. You have no reason to give me another chance... but that's really all I'm asking for. Just another chance. You don't... you don't have to be with me... but just... can we be friends again? Please?”

 

The whitenette bit down on his lower lip, sucking it s he roved over the option presented to him. Be friends with Malik again? It was something he wanted - Ryou could not deny that. But still... could he risk it? Could he risk entering a relationship - even one of friendship?

 

He'd promised himself... he'd sworn he'd never get involved with anyone else ever again... He couldn't trust other people - other people who could and would easily break his heart.

 

And Malik Ishtar was fully capable of breaking his heart - he'd done it once before, and would most likely do it again.

 

“Have dinner with me,” Malik's accented voice reached his ears.

 

Doe brown eyes blinked, rounding slightly and mirroring their owner's inner turmoil. “I... I can't, Malik. I'm sorry.”

 

“Come on. Please?”

 

The more he begged, the harder Ryou found it to decline. “M-Malik...”

 

Those dark, full lips jutted outwards in a rather pathetic pout, giving the Egyptian the appearance of an injured puppy. “I'll treat. Or - you know what, I'll make you dinner. This weekend. This Saturday.”

 

Ryou could not resist for long. Fully knowing he would live to regret this, he nodded his head. “All right.”

 

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I'll try to do it right this time around.

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Ryou stood before the full-length mirror, studying the misshapen reflection through the chipped, indented glass. Mocha eyes scrutinized the pale body intently, one scrawny arm trailing upwards, lighting skimming the concave abdomen, brushing across the almost viewable ribs.

 

His body had changed over the years. Everyone - his customers, his co-workers, Xander - called him beautiful, but was he really? With his too-skinny limbs and hollow stomach, could anyone truly consider him beautiful? They had seen him bare, in this youthful body. He did not resemble a man in any way, nor did he possess the natural grace imparted upon all women at birth. Gazing at himself in the unclean glass, Ryou could not help but feel equally dirty. He was an outcast, not only from society but from his own gender as well.

 

The things he has done... actually submitting to the desires of drunken slobs barely fit to call themselves men, reducing himself to the level of a common whore. So many times he attempted to convince himself that such was not the case.

 

I'm not a whore, I'm not. I have no other path to take. I'm not... I never wanted this.

 

But who ever is pleased with their future?

 

Hopes, dreams... who actually achieves those? Certainly not real people. Certainly not the Everyman.

 

Such was Ryou Bakura; the Everyman - one who once had such beautiful dreams of love and true happiness. In a way, he achieved his goals. Perhaps it was not in the manner he originally believed, but... he did succeed. In a way, he received love - in those filthy men who worshipped his filthy body, bestowing upon it filthy blessings and sullying it with their filthy, primal, mocking rituals of lust.

 

Though long gone, he still felt the traces of all those men inside of him. They left their mark, implanting their seed in his mind as well as inside his polluted body, wounding his spirit. He seemed proud - oh, how easy it was to seem proud, cock, how easy to pretend in his escapade to woo potential customers and keep his current regulars interested (because, though only twenty-seven, he was almost too old to be in his specific line of business...).

 

But, frankly, he was nothing more than a young child, innocent yet tainted by the world's many corruptions, abandoned by the light of Heaven that once used to surround him and accentuate his every trait, pour from him with every slight movement.

 

Did Malik see it? Would he ever see it? Could he sense Ryou's inner turmoil, the flickering flame of light of his soul that, if not tended to soon, risked being snuffed out permanently? Did he return to fuel the fire, or douse it completely?

 

What would he do? If he ever found out...

 

Turning away from the mirror, Ryou blindly reached out and took into his grasp a small bottle of medication. After fumbling clumsily with the lid, it finally popped open and he swallowed three pills dry. They eased down his throat at a torturously slow pace; he could feel their entire trek downwards.

 

He was due to arrive at Malik's flat in about half an hour, but after a long, relaxing and refreshing bubble bath - which, as it turned out, was anything but refreshing or relaxing thanks to his frazzled nerves and racing mind - that arriving late would be his course of action, so as not to appear overeager. Under no circumstances was he to appear overexcited about this dinner - after all, it was only a casual get together between two friends. Nothing more.

 

He would not give Malik the impression that he wanted a deeper relationship with the Egyptian, nor would he allow Malik to mistake this evening as an excuse to get laid. Ryou would never put out for the likes of him again, that much was fore sure... it would take a lot of convincing, coupled with a lot of wine (hopefully Malik was prepared to offer neither,) to get the whitenette back into that man's bed.

 

Blue shirt or black shirt?

 

He contemplated both attires, holding one shirt up to his chest before swapping it for the other color.

 

Green shirt, he decided, discarding the two articles of clothing in favor of the light green blouse currently sprawled haphazardly across the immaculately pressed bed linens. He slid the material over his shoulders, enjoying the feel of the gentle fabric gliding across his bare skin.

 

For the briefest of moments, the wanton image of Malik running his large, strong, masculine hands down his arms and cross his body flashed into the whitenette's mind and he shuddered involuntarily, a choked noise that could have passed as either a moan or a sob escaped him.

 

Shaking his head furiously, he pulled the shirt on and finished buttoning it up - refusing to leave any of the buttons unclasped, not even the top few which he normally left flirtatiously open for the viewing pleasure of all who desired a glimpse of his hairless chest.

 

After stepping into a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans, he glanced at himself in the mirror once again, gauging his apparel. Very plain, very casual - nothing that screamed `I'm in dire need of a romantic relationship,' as was his intent. It was boring... boring, safe, conservative Ryou Bakura, just the same as Malik most likely remembered him being.

 

Rummaging through his small collection of cologne, Ryou yet again made the safe choice - sticking to a plain and simple scent, that being `Mountain Spring' or something else along those lines; Xander compared it to the smell of water - Ryou just supposed that meant it was fresh. Fresh was good. Fresh was safe. It did not stimulate, only faintly pleased the senses.

 

The alarm on the digital clock next to the bed started beeping, signaling it was time to depart. Ryou frowned, asking himself for the billionth time whether or not he should actually show up. It would be a nice slap in the face for the Ishtar, to be stood up for once in his life.

 

Almond eyes rounded sadly, feeling strangely guilty at the thought. No; he couldn't do that. Two wrongs never made a right, as the saying went, and this situation was no exception.

 

Smoothing out his hair, Ryou took one last look at himself in the mirror, smiled at the overall plainness of his appearance, and exited the bedroom. In the foyer, he slipped on a pair of black boots and shrugged into his winter coat. Then he left, taking care to lock the door behind him.

 

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We're wasting too much time being strong, holding on.

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The doorbell rang at half past eight, and there was only one person Malik knew it could be - seeing as he'd taken care of his roommate's absence for the evening. A smile spread across the attractive face as the Egyptian lit the last of the strategically placed candles, thus perfecting the romantic glow of the apartment.

 

Yes, he knew Ryou said he wanted this to be a friendly dinner and nothing more, but Malik had spared no expense. He was dying to make a good impression on the whitenette, for reasons still unfathomable to him himself.

 

Ever since reuniting with his ex-lover, Ryou had been all the blonde could think about. No matter what, he couldn't seem to get the other out of his head - and to be painfully honest, it was getting rather annoying. How was he supposed to live his life if the face of his ex-lover of ten years kept popping into his thoughts? It was distracting.

 

Maybe he just needed a lay? But he could get that from easier sources than Ryou - who, he already knew, would put up at least a small fight.

 

No, there was something about Ryou... The innocence that still radiated from him, the beauty his retained even after ten years... Malik desired it, all of him.

 

Did he want to re-establish a relationship with the whitenette? Quite possibly. But there were several major complications that could ensue if he traveled down that road - one of them being that he didn't know anything about Ryou anymore, other than the fact that the petite male was more attractive than ever, and that he was hormonally attacked by the urge to touch that feather-soft white skin whenever around the older male. That was one of the reasons he planned this whole dinner - aside from the fact that he really did wish to apologize for being such a jerk to Ryou. If the evening progressed well... perhaps there was a future for them after all.

 

If not, well, he could still try to get Ryou into bed - if only for just one night.

 

The doorbell sounded once again, twice in a row this time. Malik jumped to his senses and made his way over to the door.

 

“It's freezing out here,” he heard the soft complaint through the solid wood.

 

To which he replied: “sorry, I'm coming,” and unlocked the two hatches, pulling the door open wide so that Ryou may enter.

 

Ryou stepped inside, promptly thrusting a bottle of wine - obviously he'd purchased it on the way over - into his host's hands. Malik blinked and glanced down at the cheap label as Ryou shrugged out of his coat.

 

“Closet's to the left,” Malik said absentmindedly, continuing to stare at the bottle. He'd never heard of this brand before. Why did Ryou bring him wine, of all things?

 

Ryou followed the instructions, opening the closet and setting his coat neatly on one of the empty hangers. After sliding the mirror-door shut, he glanced back over to Malik. “Oh... the wine's for you.”

 

The Egyptian blinked. “What for?” he wondered, heading towards the kitchen to fetch a bottle opener - it would be a waste to never drink it, especially since it was a present from Ryou.

 

“I don't know... I thought it'd be a nice gesture, you know? A gift for having me over,” the whitenette explained lamely, running a hand through his unruly hair and looking around the apartment. Mocha-brown orbs took in the gold sponge-painted walls, and he suddenly was met with the odd sensation that he'd been in this house before in the recent past.

 

A low whistle escaped his throat as he continued to survey the place and ignored the strange feeling in his gut. “You certainly are living large,” he observed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I feel like I've stepped into a King's royal palace.”

 

A low chuckle resounded from the Egyptian as Malik poured two glasses of wine. “Is that a good thing?”

 

“I guess so, though you have already succeeded and making me seem insignificant.”

 

The blonde appeared at the mouth of the kitchen, a crystal glass of wine held in each hand. “You shouldn't feel that way. You'll never be insignificant in my eyes.”

 

Flushing prettily, Ryou turned his attention on something else other than the charming Egyptian - a painting that hung on the wall opposite of the foyer, off-theme when compared to the rest of the oriental-type theme of the penthouse. It depicted a proudly naked woman with short white-blonde hair and eyes that were closed off from the world, though still leaking tears.

 

Silver-white eyebrows furrowed in consideration. “... Did you pick this out?” he inquired, slowly.

 

Malik nodded his head. “Yeah. She's lovely, isn't she?”

 

Ryou didn't say anything, only continued to stare at the picture, attempting to place exactly when and where had seen it before.

 

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A/N: ...So Ryou takes pills. Most likely anti-depressants (I can't exactly blame him..) Who saw that coming?

And did anyone catch this new twist I added in? If so, did you expect it? Or is it completely unfathomable?

Please review. Tell me what you think!!