Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ In Your Eyes ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: cassie_k 
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 05.08.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.5K | Visits: 561 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 05.08.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.5K | Visits: 561 | Status: Completed
Summary: Ryou has an insane crush on Malik, and he always believed that the other hikari was the one for him. Bakura, however, has similar feelings for Malik, although his hikari still believes the blonde won’t leave him behind. What is he to do when things don't turn out the way he wanted he intended?
Warnings: Nothing too severe in the first chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! characters or storyline.
In Your Eyes
By: cassie_k
Chapter One
~Ryou’s Point of View~
It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell him. He just never listens to me. In fact, he never listens to anyone but himself! And I’m the idiot who fell for him. I stare hard at a picture of him that I keep beneath my pillow at night. How can anyone so beautiful be such an ass? He’s arrogant, cocky, and he has this strange idea that he is always right. I cannot begin to tell you how wrong *that* is. But, on the bright side, he’s loyal, determined, stunningly gorgeous, intelligent, and, if you get enough drinks in him, he can be hilarious. Malik always puts a smile on my face, even when he’s being that weird person that I don’t like one bit. All he needs is someone to love him, someone to--
“RYOU!”
“WHAT!?”
“COME HERE!”
“WHY!?”
“DON’T ASK WHY, JUST GET YOUR FAT ASS DOWN HERE!”
Bakura. I can’t understand why he always calls me fat. I don’t have anything on me! He probably just does it to get underneath my skin. Well, he doesn’t have to try that hard to succeed. I gingerly place the frame of Malik where it belongs and jump off of my bed. I head downstairs to the awful smell of smoke coming from the kitchen. The sound of the fire alarm rings and I reach for the wall to remove it. Daring to step inside of the kitchen, I see my stupid yami standing over the stove, smacking it with a frying pan. “Bakura!” I call to him, but I highly doubt he hears me. So I take a few nervous steps forward and put one hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me, but why are you beating the life out of my stove?” I wonder aloud. He turns to me, and I can feel the frustration through our link.
“This is just another modern annoyance! Ra may damn it, and I would not care!” he screams, throwing the pan on the ground.
“Well, you don’t have to act like such a child.” I turn the stove off and, grabbing a mit from a cupboard, open the door of the machine.
“It attacked me, Ryou.”
“. . .I’m sure it did.” I chuckle, but not loud enough for Bakura to hear. Fearful of the house burning down, I spray the entire inside of the kitchen appliance with a fire exstinguisher. I never thought I’d have to have one of these things in my home, but living with a five thousand year old spirit slightly changed my mind. *Slightly.* “I thought I told you not to make anything when I’m not around.”
“You were upstairs!” he retaliates.
“Well, apparently, that isn’t close enough!” I use a can of air freshener to hide the nasty smell of Bakura’s failed experiment. Out of curiousity, I ask, “What were you trying to make, anyway?”
“. . .a cake.”
I can’t hide my hysteria. I burst into giggles at the very thought of my yami producing a womanly, delicious, home-made cake. He doesn’t seem amused, though, and he leaves the room, plopping down onto the living room couch. I follow, sitting beside him. “I’m sorry, Bakura, but that’s just funny!” I laugh a bit more, but the serious expression on his face is proof enough that he’s about to snap. “Why were you baking a cake?”
“Because it’s Malik’s birthday.”
My heart sinks. How did he know that!? Even *I* wasn’t aware of it, and I’m supposed to be Malik’s best friend! “H-how did you know?” I stutter quietly.
“Marik told me.”
Damn Marik. “Oh.”
“They’re coming over tonight. . .for a while.”
I begin to panick. I don’t even have a present for him! “You know,” I say darkly, “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me these things beforehand! What am I supposed to do, Bakura? I don’t have anything for him!”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” He stands up and heads back into the kitchen to clean up his mess. At least he has learned to pick up after himself.
/Bakura, he’s going to hate me./
//He won’t hate you, Ryou.//
/Yes, yes he will!/ I trudge up the staircase to my bedroom, continuing the conversation with Bakura.
//This is the first birthday he’s celebrated in years. The only present he expects from either of us is the fact that we remembered.//
/Maybe you’re right. But. . ./
//What?//
/I wanted this to be special for him, you know? I wanted it to be fun, so he’d have a good time./
//Why the hell are you killing yourself over this?//
/I don’t know. . .maybe I like him./ Yes, it may be shocking, but I really do trust Bakura with my feelings. Despite his attitude and the way he is about some things, I find it so easy to talk to him about nearly anything. But an awkward and uncomfortable silence prompts me to break it. /Bakura? Are you listening?/
//. . .you can’t like him!//
/And why not!?/
//Because I like him!//
And everything went downhill from there. Bakura and I spent the rest of the night apart from one another, but the second that Malik and Marik walked through our front door, we acted like nothing was wrong at all. Now, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table, listening to another one of Malik’s epic stories of how he defeated his yami at a game of Duel Monsters. None of us care, but I can’t stop my endless gaze on him. Neither can Bakura. I see him out of the corner of my eye smiling and laughing at everything Malik says, and I kick him beneath the table. He glares at me, and I smile kindly in return.
//Ryou, you suck *so* much.// he snarls.
/Oh, don’t use that naughty language!/ I reply sarcastically, my eyes still locked on Malik.
//You’re wasiting your time, dumbass. He’s not going to go for you.//
/Really? Well, we’ll see about that./
“Malik,” I say, interrupting his story, “are you thirsty? I have lemonade and iced tea, if you want anything.”
“Um, sure, I’ll have some lemonade,” Malik answers, exchanging glances with Marik. The two of them watch in confusion as Bakura and I wrestle with one another to get to the refridgerator. He’s a lot stronger and bigger than I am, so he wins this battle. But the war is far from over. . .
We spend another ten minutes falling victim to Malik’s constant babbling before relocating in the dining room. “What does everyone want to eat?” I ask as we all take our places at the long table. After receiving various suggestions from Bakura and Malik, and a mumbled “I don’t care” from Marik, I pick up the telephone, dialing a local pizza place.
“What do you want on your pizza?” I personally ask Malik. He opens his mouth to answer, but Bakura speaks instead.
With one arm around Malik’s shoulders, he yells, “Don’t put so much pressure on him!” Everyone just looked at him, giving him a ‘what-the-hell’ look. I know that he was trying to get Malik’s attention, but that was just downright weird.
“It’s not *that* big of a problem,” Malik laughs. “Ryou, I don’t really care what’s on it. Ask Marik. He’s usually really picky about this stuff.”
The three of us turn to Marik, expecting an answer. But all we get is a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not my birthday,” he says lowly. I scowl, wondering what could be wrong with him as I order a pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Bakura screams from the background, “Get mushrooms, too!” I smile, turning back toward my yami.
“Silly boy,” I say playfully, “Malik hates mushrooms.” Malik smiles at me just as Bakura glowers in anger. It looks like this fight is in my favor. Hanging up the phone, I sit between the Ishtars, and Bakura moves in closer beside Malik. I feel Marik glaring daggers at all of us, and it appears that I am the only one who notices. I have half the mind to scold him for being so rotten right now. But I decide against it; after all, Marik isn’t the kind of person you’d want to tangle with. He could *step* on me, without breaking a sweat!
“Marik, what the hell’s up with you?” Bakura finally questions. I’m not surprised at all that he’s the one to muster the courage to ask. He probably stands a chance against the other yami.
“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Marik says, and I can see this. There are huge bags beneath each of his eyes, and he looks like he is about to collapse.
“You could take a nap, if you’d like,” I say politely. He shakes his head, though, and continues to stare at the walls of the room. The look in his deep, violet eyes is strange. I’ve never seen him appear so--dare I say it--sad. He actually looks sad, although he’s trying to hide it. But there’s no use keeping things of that nature from me, for I have a knack for pinpointing such negative feelings. Something is obviously bothering him, and I’m partly afraid to find out what it is if it’s able to screw up Marik.
The pizza arrives around forty-five minutes later, and I pay the delivery boy the money I owe before carrying it into the kitchen.
“That smells so good,” Malik says, taking a whiff of the steam radiating from the box. “Ryou, remind me to pay you back later.”
I shake my head, smiling. “No, you don’t have to pay me back! This is your birthday, but besides that, I’d never make you pay me a single cent for anything!” Smirking at my yami, I serve each of us two slices of the large, round pizza.
We socialize in the dining room, but it seems that Marik has disappeared. “Where’d Marik go?” Bakura asks, peeking into the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“I’m sorry, guys. He just hasn’t been himself lately, and he won’t talk to me at all,” Malik explains as Bakura pulls him into an embrace, just to *console* him. I watch indignantly as my yami strokes Malik’s hair, whispering things to him that I am unable to hear. Steam is practically shooting out of my ears, and I can’t help but yank Malik away from Bakura.
“Wanna watch a movie?” I ask him. He frowns at me and Bakura, and he knows that something’s definately going on.
“What is with you people?” he asks, smiling. He leaves my side and enters the living room. Bakura and I stare at each other for a moment or two before racing violently after him. But he’s not going to win this time. I trip him, laughing maniacally as I take my place next to my prize.
“Nothing good is on right now,” Malik whines, channel-surfing.
An hour passes, and we all sit in complete silence, lost in the intensity of some horror film that is just about to end. None of us are sure what the basic plot is, but that doesn’t matter much. Malik jumps, startled, as some strange and ugly creature appears out of nowhere, attacking and disfiguring some woman walking down the street. Bakura and I both jump as well, but not out of fear. My arm swings around Malik’s shoulders, just as Bakura gets in his face, telling him it’s just a movie. He eyes us both suspiciously before pulling away from our reach.
“Okay, would someone tell me what’s going on?” he demands, tapping his foot on the floor.
“N-nothing’s going on,” I stammer, standing before him. I yelp in pain as I’m pushed to the floor by Bakura. My face smashes against the coffee table, and I feel a small amount of blood trickle from my nose. Malik lunges forward, taking me into his arms. I feel so warm, so lucky as he consoles me.
“Ryou, are you alright?” he asks, wiping the blood from my face with a tissue. “Bakura, what the hell is wrong with you!?”
“Aw, come on, Malik, he’s okay,” Bakura insists. But it seems as if Malik doesn’t hear one word of this--not that I’m complaining--and all of the sudden, I hear a huge crash from the other side of the room. Malik’s attention is taken from me, and he nearly drops me as he rushes to the source of the noise. Sitting up, I see Bakura lying on the floor, looking so unbelievably helpless.
//Two can play at that game, Ryou.// he snickers through the link.
/What game!? You pushed me over!/ I scream, knowing that he ‘fell over’ just to take Malik away from me.
“Bakura, what happened?” Malik asks.
“I-I was trying to walk up the stairs, but I fell, and. . .my head really hurts,” my yami innocently says. “Could you help me up the steps?”
I feel my stomach twisting and turning inside of me as Malik actually agrees to do what was asked of him! How stupid must one be not to see right through this!? Maybe Malik isn’t the person that I once thought he was. Or maybe he’s playing along, and he knew how Bakura felt all this time, and he chose him over me. I sense that I’m going to be sick, and I can’t watch. I turn away as Bakura “limps” up the stairs with Malik right behind him, working as a guide. Once the two of them are finally gone, I have the entire room to myself, and I cry. I lost the one person who I thought could fufill the empty hole in my heart, and it’s obvious now that he doesn’t feel the same way. I don’t think he’ll ever know, and the wisest thing for me to do right now is back off and let him live his life without me weighing it down.
Silently cursing, I force myself to my feet. I begin walking toward the kitchen, where I keep a First Aid Kit, but I’m stopped by a strong voice belonging to no other than Marik.
“What happened to you?” he asks, stepping into the dim light of the living room.
“I fell.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I can see that, thank you.” I try to lightly push him out of my way, but I catch a glimpse of his face. His flawless, perfectly-toned, familiar face that looks nearly identical to Malik. Feelings I once had for his hikari stir within me, and I nearly lose myself, staring so deep into his eyes--
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” Marik leans backward onto the wall, watching as I redirect my gaze elsewhere. I look at the floor, the ceiling, the wall, anything that will stop me from looking at him. He just brings back too many memories of times I spent wishing Malik and I could be something more than friends.
“Sorry,” I say, quickly darting into the kitchen. My voice trembles as I ask myself where I put the kit, but I find it soon enough. Thoroughly cleaning the wound, I attempt to bandage it, but my shaky hands tell me otherwise. I become so frustrated that my crying eyes close tightly, and I take deep breaths to calm myself down.
“Hey,” Marik says sharply, but his voice softens as he adds, “do you want me to help you?”
“. . .why not?” I say after a moment, shrugging as I speak. I sit at the table, and he sits across from me. He moves confidentally as he applies the bandage to my forehead, gently pressing to make sure it won’t fall off.
“There you go,” he says, finishing up.
“Th-thank you.” But I don’t stand and walk away, and neither does Marik. The two of us uneasily look at one another, and all I manage is a small smile of thanks. His face remains totally impassive, as if he is afraid to show any emotion whatsoever. This intrigues me the most about him, and I’m left wondering why he shuts himself away from everyone else. Sure, he’s an ancient spirit, but despite that, no one wants to be alone, right?
The darkness of the kitchen seems to amaze him. I’m taken aback by this, though, because he *is* darkness, in its purest form, and yet, he’s mesmorized by it. And I can’t even begin to imagine what has him so bent out of shape. He’s apparently stressed out, and why that is, I’m not so sure. But, in my compassionate nature, I’m obliged to ask, “Marik, are you alright?”
“What do you mean?” he moodily replies. I become a little hesitant to continue, but somehow, I dare to keep up with the interrogation.
“You know what I mean,” I whisper, staring at the floor. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, I bite the inside of my cheek, preparing for the worst. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“The last time I checked, you weren’t a Ra damn psychiatrist.” Marik rolls his eyes, annoyed by my last question. But this reaction was to be expected. He’s not exactly a cooperative person, especially in situations such as these. The sound of approaching footsteps catches my attention, and I turn to the corridor that leads into the living room to face Malik.
“What are you guys doin’?” he asks, taking a seat beside me.
I hold my breath for the longest time before answering in a small voice, “Talking.” Noticing the absence of my yami, and the immediate conversation Malik and Marik engage in--where Malik does most of the talking--I mentally speak. /Bakura?/
//What?//
/Where are you?/
//Upstairs. In my room.//
Bakura sounds like he is greatly irritated. But why should I care? After all, he *does* have Malik now. . .
//Nothing happened, Ryou.// he suddenly says.
/R-really?/
//Yes, really. I did a pretty good job of acting through the whole thing, though! Malik actually thought I fell over and injured myself. What a moron.//
To my surprise, I’m not as relieved as I thought I would be upon hearing such great news. I still manage to shoot a friendly smile in Malik’s direction as our eyes meet, but I’m not entirely thrilled. I do find myself breathing easily now, knowing that Bakura didn’t pounce on Malik like a rabid dog in heat.
//Is he saying anything about me?//
/No, Bakura. He’s talking to Marik./
//Marik, eh? I hope he’s able to pull that stick out of his ass before I see him again.//
/That’s just wonderful. Don’t be too violent about it, though. I think something is seriously wrong with him./
//Well, it’s not exactly a minor problem when you’re as much of a dickhead as he is.//
/Bakura!/ I hide a smile, stifling the urge to chuckle. As much as I hate to admit it, Bakura is very funny at times. He just doesn’t know when to stop and often crosses the line between having fun and hurting peoples’ feelings.
//. . .you’re not mad at me, are you, Ryou?// he asks, his tone a tad child-like.
/No, I can’t be upset with you for trying to be intimate with Malik. I was aiming for the same goal, wasn’t I? You just happened to be a better contendor. It’s quite alright, Bakura. In fact, I’ve forgotten all about Malik already, just come downstairs and we can leave all of this behind./ I pray that he didn’t catch the shakiness of my telepathic voice. In reality, I’m not too happy with my yami’s actions tonight, even though I was attempting the same thing. And Malik probably thinks we both belong in a mental home, which isn’t something I necessarily disagree with.
//‘Kay, I’ll be down in a second.//
The link temporarily closes before reopening once more. I listen to Bakura’s hissed words:
//Just because I feel bad for what I’ve done doesn’t mean I’m giving up, so don’t you dare think I’m down and out just yet. . .//
Of course he wouldn’t give up. He’s not a quiter, like I obviously am. But how can Malik still not see my true intentions? If he knows me at all, which I hope he does, then he’d know I am anything but outgoing. I’ve even told him that someone who really understands me would look for hidden signals during a conversation, or by the way my eyes seem to glow when he so much as turns my way. I have verbally warned him of my shyness! I don’t think he’s stupid, so the only thing left is the outcome that I feared the most. I guess that I’ve only been a good friend to him all along, nothing more. Well, I have nothing else to do but allow Bakura to get what I have worked so hard for, but didn’t even come close to receiving.
My yami and I exchange tense glances as he joins the rest of us in the kitchen.
“How does your head feel?” Malik asks. ‘Stupid blonde,’ I harshly think.
“Oh. . .it’s fine. Thanks for helpin’ me out, Malik,” Bakura returns, smiling sweetly, and I have no idea what that is all about. What, is he trying to be *me* now!?
And it all starts again. Malik continues with his non-stop talk of past victories, the Millenium Items, this, that, whatever comes to his mind. Somehow, the topic of his toothbrush is spoken of. Yes, you heard me correctly, his toothbrush. What the hell does that have to do with anything!? I always knew Malik was like this, but now I’m seeing him from a different point of view, and I doubt that I could grow accustomed to his self-centered ways. Now, I’m not one to dwell on a person’s negative characteristics, but he’s acting as if he’s a god. I think that I just noticed that for the first time in quite a while. Of course, Bakura was drooling the entire time. How shallow! He and Malik seem to be completely void of any knowledge that Marik and I are about to fall asleep as they continue with their mindless bickering. I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re thinking. As a matter of fact, Malik is the last person on my mind at this moment. And as crazy as this may seem, I’m thinking of Marik.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to catch his eye or anything like that. He’s just so cryptic and mysterious. I’d even go as far to say he looks seductive with the way he’s carelessly biting his lower lip, nearly dying from boredom. His eyes are half-lidded, but he twists his hair in rotating circles with one hand just to keep himself awake. He suddenly turns to me, raising an eyebrow. I nearly lose my collected composure in embarrassment, but I pull myself together long enough to regain my balance in the chair. I weakly smile at him, but he only scowls in return.
The night ends as well as it possibly could have, considering the conditions it was under. Malik most likely spoke until his throat ran dry, and Bakura nearly killed himself listening to all of those idiotic stories. Marik remained aloof from the rest of us, and in a sense, I did as well. When he was finally able to shut Malik’s loud mouth, the two of them headed for home a little past midnight. I was exhausted, so the first thing I did after they had left was carry my tired self into my bedroom without saying one word to Bakura. He knows he is the victor, but he doesn’t know how drastically my feelings have changed. But we’re both better off if I just keep quiet for a while. He’ll gradually see the Malik I saw tonight, and in no time, everything will be like it used to be, before I was overrun with such inappropriate thoughts of my friend.
/Goodnight, Bakura./
//Night, Ryou.//
_____
A/N: Nothing much to say, thanks for reading, though. Love ya!
Warnings: Nothing too severe in the first chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! characters or storyline.
In Your Eyes
By: cassie_k
Chapter One
~Ryou’s Point of View~
It’s not like I haven’t tried to tell him. He just never listens to me. In fact, he never listens to anyone but himself! And I’m the idiot who fell for him. I stare hard at a picture of him that I keep beneath my pillow at night. How can anyone so beautiful be such an ass? He’s arrogant, cocky, and he has this strange idea that he is always right. I cannot begin to tell you how wrong *that* is. But, on the bright side, he’s loyal, determined, stunningly gorgeous, intelligent, and, if you get enough drinks in him, he can be hilarious. Malik always puts a smile on my face, even when he’s being that weird person that I don’t like one bit. All he needs is someone to love him, someone to--
“RYOU!”
“WHAT!?”
“COME HERE!”
“WHY!?”
“DON’T ASK WHY, JUST GET YOUR FAT ASS DOWN HERE!”
Bakura. I can’t understand why he always calls me fat. I don’t have anything on me! He probably just does it to get underneath my skin. Well, he doesn’t have to try that hard to succeed. I gingerly place the frame of Malik where it belongs and jump off of my bed. I head downstairs to the awful smell of smoke coming from the kitchen. The sound of the fire alarm rings and I reach for the wall to remove it. Daring to step inside of the kitchen, I see my stupid yami standing over the stove, smacking it with a frying pan. “Bakura!” I call to him, but I highly doubt he hears me. So I take a few nervous steps forward and put one hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me, but why are you beating the life out of my stove?” I wonder aloud. He turns to me, and I can feel the frustration through our link.
“This is just another modern annoyance! Ra may damn it, and I would not care!” he screams, throwing the pan on the ground.
“Well, you don’t have to act like such a child.” I turn the stove off and, grabbing a mit from a cupboard, open the door of the machine.
“It attacked me, Ryou.”
“. . .I’m sure it did.” I chuckle, but not loud enough for Bakura to hear. Fearful of the house burning down, I spray the entire inside of the kitchen appliance with a fire exstinguisher. I never thought I’d have to have one of these things in my home, but living with a five thousand year old spirit slightly changed my mind. *Slightly.* “I thought I told you not to make anything when I’m not around.”
“You were upstairs!” he retaliates.
“Well, apparently, that isn’t close enough!” I use a can of air freshener to hide the nasty smell of Bakura’s failed experiment. Out of curiousity, I ask, “What were you trying to make, anyway?”
“. . .a cake.”
I can’t hide my hysteria. I burst into giggles at the very thought of my yami producing a womanly, delicious, home-made cake. He doesn’t seem amused, though, and he leaves the room, plopping down onto the living room couch. I follow, sitting beside him. “I’m sorry, Bakura, but that’s just funny!” I laugh a bit more, but the serious expression on his face is proof enough that he’s about to snap. “Why were you baking a cake?”
“Because it’s Malik’s birthday.”
My heart sinks. How did he know that!? Even *I* wasn’t aware of it, and I’m supposed to be Malik’s best friend! “H-how did you know?” I stutter quietly.
“Marik told me.”
Damn Marik. “Oh.”
“They’re coming over tonight. . .for a while.”
I begin to panick. I don’t even have a present for him! “You know,” I say darkly, “I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me these things beforehand! What am I supposed to do, Bakura? I don’t have anything for him!”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” He stands up and heads back into the kitchen to clean up his mess. At least he has learned to pick up after himself.
/Bakura, he’s going to hate me./
//He won’t hate you, Ryou.//
/Yes, yes he will!/ I trudge up the staircase to my bedroom, continuing the conversation with Bakura.
//This is the first birthday he’s celebrated in years. The only present he expects from either of us is the fact that we remembered.//
/Maybe you’re right. But. . ./
//What?//
/I wanted this to be special for him, you know? I wanted it to be fun, so he’d have a good time./
//Why the hell are you killing yourself over this?//
/I don’t know. . .maybe I like him./ Yes, it may be shocking, but I really do trust Bakura with my feelings. Despite his attitude and the way he is about some things, I find it so easy to talk to him about nearly anything. But an awkward and uncomfortable silence prompts me to break it. /Bakura? Are you listening?/
//. . .you can’t like him!//
/And why not!?/
//Because I like him!//
And everything went downhill from there. Bakura and I spent the rest of the night apart from one another, but the second that Malik and Marik walked through our front door, we acted like nothing was wrong at all. Now, I find myself sitting at the kitchen table, listening to another one of Malik’s epic stories of how he defeated his yami at a game of Duel Monsters. None of us care, but I can’t stop my endless gaze on him. Neither can Bakura. I see him out of the corner of my eye smiling and laughing at everything Malik says, and I kick him beneath the table. He glares at me, and I smile kindly in return.
//Ryou, you suck *so* much.// he snarls.
/Oh, don’t use that naughty language!/ I reply sarcastically, my eyes still locked on Malik.
//You’re wasiting your time, dumbass. He’s not going to go for you.//
/Really? Well, we’ll see about that./
“Malik,” I say, interrupting his story, “are you thirsty? I have lemonade and iced tea, if you want anything.”
“Um, sure, I’ll have some lemonade,” Malik answers, exchanging glances with Marik. The two of them watch in confusion as Bakura and I wrestle with one another to get to the refridgerator. He’s a lot stronger and bigger than I am, so he wins this battle. But the war is far from over. . .
We spend another ten minutes falling victim to Malik’s constant babbling before relocating in the dining room. “What does everyone want to eat?” I ask as we all take our places at the long table. After receiving various suggestions from Bakura and Malik, and a mumbled “I don’t care” from Marik, I pick up the telephone, dialing a local pizza place.
“What do you want on your pizza?” I personally ask Malik. He opens his mouth to answer, but Bakura speaks instead.
With one arm around Malik’s shoulders, he yells, “Don’t put so much pressure on him!” Everyone just looked at him, giving him a ‘what-the-hell’ look. I know that he was trying to get Malik’s attention, but that was just downright weird.
“It’s not *that* big of a problem,” Malik laughs. “Ryou, I don’t really care what’s on it. Ask Marik. He’s usually really picky about this stuff.”
The three of us turn to Marik, expecting an answer. But all we get is a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s not my birthday,” he says lowly. I scowl, wondering what could be wrong with him as I order a pepperoni pizza with extra cheese. Bakura screams from the background, “Get mushrooms, too!” I smile, turning back toward my yami.
“Silly boy,” I say playfully, “Malik hates mushrooms.” Malik smiles at me just as Bakura glowers in anger. It looks like this fight is in my favor. Hanging up the phone, I sit between the Ishtars, and Bakura moves in closer beside Malik. I feel Marik glaring daggers at all of us, and it appears that I am the only one who notices. I have half the mind to scold him for being so rotten right now. But I decide against it; after all, Marik isn’t the kind of person you’d want to tangle with. He could *step* on me, without breaking a sweat!
“Marik, what the hell’s up with you?” Bakura finally questions. I’m not surprised at all that he’s the one to muster the courage to ask. He probably stands a chance against the other yami.
“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Marik says, and I can see this. There are huge bags beneath each of his eyes, and he looks like he is about to collapse.
“You could take a nap, if you’d like,” I say politely. He shakes his head, though, and continues to stare at the walls of the room. The look in his deep, violet eyes is strange. I’ve never seen him appear so--dare I say it--sad. He actually looks sad, although he’s trying to hide it. But there’s no use keeping things of that nature from me, for I have a knack for pinpointing such negative feelings. Something is obviously bothering him, and I’m partly afraid to find out what it is if it’s able to screw up Marik.
The pizza arrives around forty-five minutes later, and I pay the delivery boy the money I owe before carrying it into the kitchen.
“That smells so good,” Malik says, taking a whiff of the steam radiating from the box. “Ryou, remind me to pay you back later.”
I shake my head, smiling. “No, you don’t have to pay me back! This is your birthday, but besides that, I’d never make you pay me a single cent for anything!” Smirking at my yami, I serve each of us two slices of the large, round pizza.
We socialize in the dining room, but it seems that Marik has disappeared. “Where’d Marik go?” Bakura asks, peeking into the kitchen.
“I don’t know,” I reply.
“I’m sorry, guys. He just hasn’t been himself lately, and he won’t talk to me at all,” Malik explains as Bakura pulls him into an embrace, just to *console* him. I watch indignantly as my yami strokes Malik’s hair, whispering things to him that I am unable to hear. Steam is practically shooting out of my ears, and I can’t help but yank Malik away from Bakura.
“Wanna watch a movie?” I ask him. He frowns at me and Bakura, and he knows that something’s definately going on.
“What is with you people?” he asks, smiling. He leaves my side and enters the living room. Bakura and I stare at each other for a moment or two before racing violently after him. But he’s not going to win this time. I trip him, laughing maniacally as I take my place next to my prize.
“Nothing good is on right now,” Malik whines, channel-surfing.
An hour passes, and we all sit in complete silence, lost in the intensity of some horror film that is just about to end. None of us are sure what the basic plot is, but that doesn’t matter much. Malik jumps, startled, as some strange and ugly creature appears out of nowhere, attacking and disfiguring some woman walking down the street. Bakura and I both jump as well, but not out of fear. My arm swings around Malik’s shoulders, just as Bakura gets in his face, telling him it’s just a movie. He eyes us both suspiciously before pulling away from our reach.
“Okay, would someone tell me what’s going on?” he demands, tapping his foot on the floor.
“N-nothing’s going on,” I stammer, standing before him. I yelp in pain as I’m pushed to the floor by Bakura. My face smashes against the coffee table, and I feel a small amount of blood trickle from my nose. Malik lunges forward, taking me into his arms. I feel so warm, so lucky as he consoles me.
“Ryou, are you alright?” he asks, wiping the blood from my face with a tissue. “Bakura, what the hell is wrong with you!?”
“Aw, come on, Malik, he’s okay,” Bakura insists. But it seems as if Malik doesn’t hear one word of this--not that I’m complaining--and all of the sudden, I hear a huge crash from the other side of the room. Malik’s attention is taken from me, and he nearly drops me as he rushes to the source of the noise. Sitting up, I see Bakura lying on the floor, looking so unbelievably helpless.
//Two can play at that game, Ryou.// he snickers through the link.
/What game!? You pushed me over!/ I scream, knowing that he ‘fell over’ just to take Malik away from me.
“Bakura, what happened?” Malik asks.
“I-I was trying to walk up the stairs, but I fell, and. . .my head really hurts,” my yami innocently says. “Could you help me up the steps?”
I feel my stomach twisting and turning inside of me as Malik actually agrees to do what was asked of him! How stupid must one be not to see right through this!? Maybe Malik isn’t the person that I once thought he was. Or maybe he’s playing along, and he knew how Bakura felt all this time, and he chose him over me. I sense that I’m going to be sick, and I can’t watch. I turn away as Bakura “limps” up the stairs with Malik right behind him, working as a guide. Once the two of them are finally gone, I have the entire room to myself, and I cry. I lost the one person who I thought could fufill the empty hole in my heart, and it’s obvious now that he doesn’t feel the same way. I don’t think he’ll ever know, and the wisest thing for me to do right now is back off and let him live his life without me weighing it down.
Silently cursing, I force myself to my feet. I begin walking toward the kitchen, where I keep a First Aid Kit, but I’m stopped by a strong voice belonging to no other than Marik.
“What happened to you?” he asks, stepping into the dim light of the living room.
“I fell.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I can see that, thank you.” I try to lightly push him out of my way, but I catch a glimpse of his face. His flawless, perfectly-toned, familiar face that looks nearly identical to Malik. Feelings I once had for his hikari stir within me, and I nearly lose myself, staring so deep into his eyes--
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” Marik leans backward onto the wall, watching as I redirect my gaze elsewhere. I look at the floor, the ceiling, the wall, anything that will stop me from looking at him. He just brings back too many memories of times I spent wishing Malik and I could be something more than friends.
“Sorry,” I say, quickly darting into the kitchen. My voice trembles as I ask myself where I put the kit, but I find it soon enough. Thoroughly cleaning the wound, I attempt to bandage it, but my shaky hands tell me otherwise. I become so frustrated that my crying eyes close tightly, and I take deep breaths to calm myself down.
“Hey,” Marik says sharply, but his voice softens as he adds, “do you want me to help you?”
“. . .why not?” I say after a moment, shrugging as I speak. I sit at the table, and he sits across from me. He moves confidentally as he applies the bandage to my forehead, gently pressing to make sure it won’t fall off.
“There you go,” he says, finishing up.
“Th-thank you.” But I don’t stand and walk away, and neither does Marik. The two of us uneasily look at one another, and all I manage is a small smile of thanks. His face remains totally impassive, as if he is afraid to show any emotion whatsoever. This intrigues me the most about him, and I’m left wondering why he shuts himself away from everyone else. Sure, he’s an ancient spirit, but despite that, no one wants to be alone, right?
The darkness of the kitchen seems to amaze him. I’m taken aback by this, though, because he *is* darkness, in its purest form, and yet, he’s mesmorized by it. And I can’t even begin to imagine what has him so bent out of shape. He’s apparently stressed out, and why that is, I’m not so sure. But, in my compassionate nature, I’m obliged to ask, “Marik, are you alright?”
“What do you mean?” he moodily replies. I become a little hesitant to continue, but somehow, I dare to keep up with the interrogation.
“You know what I mean,” I whisper, staring at the floor. Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, I bite the inside of my cheek, preparing for the worst. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“The last time I checked, you weren’t a Ra damn psychiatrist.” Marik rolls his eyes, annoyed by my last question. But this reaction was to be expected. He’s not exactly a cooperative person, especially in situations such as these. The sound of approaching footsteps catches my attention, and I turn to the corridor that leads into the living room to face Malik.
“What are you guys doin’?” he asks, taking a seat beside me.
I hold my breath for the longest time before answering in a small voice, “Talking.” Noticing the absence of my yami, and the immediate conversation Malik and Marik engage in--where Malik does most of the talking--I mentally speak. /Bakura?/
//What?//
/Where are you?/
//Upstairs. In my room.//
Bakura sounds like he is greatly irritated. But why should I care? After all, he *does* have Malik now. . .
//Nothing happened, Ryou.// he suddenly says.
/R-really?/
//Yes, really. I did a pretty good job of acting through the whole thing, though! Malik actually thought I fell over and injured myself. What a moron.//
To my surprise, I’m not as relieved as I thought I would be upon hearing such great news. I still manage to shoot a friendly smile in Malik’s direction as our eyes meet, but I’m not entirely thrilled. I do find myself breathing easily now, knowing that Bakura didn’t pounce on Malik like a rabid dog in heat.
//Is he saying anything about me?//
/No, Bakura. He’s talking to Marik./
//Marik, eh? I hope he’s able to pull that stick out of his ass before I see him again.//
/That’s just wonderful. Don’t be too violent about it, though. I think something is seriously wrong with him./
//Well, it’s not exactly a minor problem when you’re as much of a dickhead as he is.//
/Bakura!/ I hide a smile, stifling the urge to chuckle. As much as I hate to admit it, Bakura is very funny at times. He just doesn’t know when to stop and often crosses the line between having fun and hurting peoples’ feelings.
//. . .you’re not mad at me, are you, Ryou?// he asks, his tone a tad child-like.
/No, I can’t be upset with you for trying to be intimate with Malik. I was aiming for the same goal, wasn’t I? You just happened to be a better contendor. It’s quite alright, Bakura. In fact, I’ve forgotten all about Malik already, just come downstairs and we can leave all of this behind./ I pray that he didn’t catch the shakiness of my telepathic voice. In reality, I’m not too happy with my yami’s actions tonight, even though I was attempting the same thing. And Malik probably thinks we both belong in a mental home, which isn’t something I necessarily disagree with.
//‘Kay, I’ll be down in a second.//
The link temporarily closes before reopening once more. I listen to Bakura’s hissed words:
//Just because I feel bad for what I’ve done doesn’t mean I’m giving up, so don’t you dare think I’m down and out just yet. . .//
Of course he wouldn’t give up. He’s not a quiter, like I obviously am. But how can Malik still not see my true intentions? If he knows me at all, which I hope he does, then he’d know I am anything but outgoing. I’ve even told him that someone who really understands me would look for hidden signals during a conversation, or by the way my eyes seem to glow when he so much as turns my way. I have verbally warned him of my shyness! I don’t think he’s stupid, so the only thing left is the outcome that I feared the most. I guess that I’ve only been a good friend to him all along, nothing more. Well, I have nothing else to do but allow Bakura to get what I have worked so hard for, but didn’t even come close to receiving.
My yami and I exchange tense glances as he joins the rest of us in the kitchen.
“How does your head feel?” Malik asks. ‘Stupid blonde,’ I harshly think.
“Oh. . .it’s fine. Thanks for helpin’ me out, Malik,” Bakura returns, smiling sweetly, and I have no idea what that is all about. What, is he trying to be *me* now!?
And it all starts again. Malik continues with his non-stop talk of past victories, the Millenium Items, this, that, whatever comes to his mind. Somehow, the topic of his toothbrush is spoken of. Yes, you heard me correctly, his toothbrush. What the hell does that have to do with anything!? I always knew Malik was like this, but now I’m seeing him from a different point of view, and I doubt that I could grow accustomed to his self-centered ways. Now, I’m not one to dwell on a person’s negative characteristics, but he’s acting as if he’s a god. I think that I just noticed that for the first time in quite a while. Of course, Bakura was drooling the entire time. How shallow! He and Malik seem to be completely void of any knowledge that Marik and I are about to fall asleep as they continue with their mindless bickering. I’m not jealous, if that’s what you’re thinking. As a matter of fact, Malik is the last person on my mind at this moment. And as crazy as this may seem, I’m thinking of Marik.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to catch his eye or anything like that. He’s just so cryptic and mysterious. I’d even go as far to say he looks seductive with the way he’s carelessly biting his lower lip, nearly dying from boredom. His eyes are half-lidded, but he twists his hair in rotating circles with one hand just to keep himself awake. He suddenly turns to me, raising an eyebrow. I nearly lose my collected composure in embarrassment, but I pull myself together long enough to regain my balance in the chair. I weakly smile at him, but he only scowls in return.
The night ends as well as it possibly could have, considering the conditions it was under. Malik most likely spoke until his throat ran dry, and Bakura nearly killed himself listening to all of those idiotic stories. Marik remained aloof from the rest of us, and in a sense, I did as well. When he was finally able to shut Malik’s loud mouth, the two of them headed for home a little past midnight. I was exhausted, so the first thing I did after they had left was carry my tired self into my bedroom without saying one word to Bakura. He knows he is the victor, but he doesn’t know how drastically my feelings have changed. But we’re both better off if I just keep quiet for a while. He’ll gradually see the Malik I saw tonight, and in no time, everything will be like it used to be, before I was overrun with such inappropriate thoughts of my friend.
/Goodnight, Bakura./
//Night, Ryou.//
_____
A/N: Nothing much to say, thanks for reading, though. Love ya!