Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ In Your Eyes ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )
[ 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: 05.10.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 401 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Comedy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 05.10.2005 | Pages: 4 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 401 | Status: Completed
Summary: Ryou still tries to push all of the frustration Malik unwittingly gave him away, and in the midst of doing that, he loses faith. When his yami, his friends, and even himself can’t help, what else does he have left?
Warnings: Stronger use of language, slight yaoi, and a weird Ryou.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! characters or storyline.
In Your Eyes
By: cassie_k
Chapter Two
The first thing I noticed the next morning was the object grasped in my hands. Through tired, barely opened eyes, I see the picture of Malik stashed beneath my pillow lying on my stomach, my grip clutching it. I’m attacked by a mixture of different ways to react, and the best way to handle this situation is. . .to whip the frame across the god damn room! Sitting up in my bed, I launch the photo with all of my might, watching with glee as the glass shatters and hits the floor. Bakura appears out of nowhere--literally--and stands at the side of my bed, his eyes wide.
“What the fuck just happened!?” he gasps, taking a hold of my shoulders and shaking me.
“What happened? WHAT HAPPENED!? I’ll tell you what happened! I opened my eyes to meet a brand new day, but what I *do* see is this evil being smiling back at me!” If you’re confused by my words--and you most likely are--I’ll explain later. But as of now, I leap out of bed, storming off into the hallway, where I lock myself inside the bathroom. Plopping down angrily on the toilet, I cross my legs, huffing.
“Uh. . .Ryou?” Bakura’s confused voice calls to me through the door.
“What?” I snap.
“I thought you said you weren’t upset about--”
“Well, maybe I am!” I cry.
“Please, don’t be angry with me,” he pleas, and I can’t resist. I really wish he wasn’t so good at pouting.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I state, “I’m not angry with you, Bakura. You and Malik can have all the fun you want, and I’ll be just fine. Yes, I am upset, and angry, and mad, but not at you. I’d blame myself before blaming you or Malik.” What a lie *that* was!
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Just don’t worry about it, okay?” I release a heavy, overexaggerated sigh before turning to the bathtub. Checking the small clock on the wall, I realize that I overslept about fifteen minutes. School begins in less than one hour, and I should hurry if I’m bound to make it on time. “I’m going to shower, Bakura. I’ll be out in a while.” I can sense him leaving the hall and returning to my bedroom, where I assume he is cleaning up the broken shards of the picture. Such a shame I can’t control my temper at times; that was a lovely photo of Malik.
As I cleanse myself, I try to think things through. I know it’s not Malik’s fault, although it may be partially Bakura’s fault, but it’s mostly up to me to take full responsibility. When Bakura and I both revealed how we felt for the same boy, I never thought things would go this far. I’m feeling ten times worse than I probably should, and it’s hurting my yami as well.
I recognize that Bakura isn’t exactly selfless, but he and I developed a close relationship based entirely on brotherly love over time. More often than not, we have quarrels, but he is always the one apologizing, even if he isn’t to blame. And now that he has seen how this ordeal with Malik has affected me, he is afraid of causing further pain. I really wish he’d just stop thinking about me for once, as strange as that sounds.
The warm water falls right into my eyes, blurring my vision. Turning the other way, I stop the running water altogether. Wiping my eyes, I carefully step out of the tub, drying myself with a towel. I walk across the hallway, where I pull out various outfits to decide what to wear, and that is where my exhaustion gets to me. ‘Wish I didn’t stay up so late last night,’ I say to myself. ‘Oh, well. At least it’s Friday, thank God.’ I’m not sure why I forgot, but the school I attend requires a uniform that I hate to wear. I return all of my other clothing where I found it, stomp over to my closet, and pull out that dreadful old thing. Reluctantly dressing myself, I gather my books, heading downstairs, where I smell the familiar odor lingering in the air. It’s so foul and vile, and just to top it all off, I am able to see the gray smoke drowning my kitchen and living room. Yes, you guessed it: Bakura’s cooking, and miserably failing.
I poke my head into the kitchen, and I see a sight much similar to my yami’s wrestling match with the oven last night. He turns back to me, clenching his weapon of choice. Which is yet again, a frying pan. Shrugging, he smiles and just stands there looking dumb, waiting for me to stroll right in and make the fire alarm stop screaming, and to get rid of the smell. But I shake my head in disappointment instead. He scowls as I point to the fire extinguisher, and I know he’s watching while I turn my back to him, walking through the front door. With my algebra book in one arm and a bagged lunch in the other, I’m set. The only problem I face now is getting to the school. I wish that my father didn’t have to choose a home so far away from Domino High, but I don’t think he cared much when buying a house. He might as well live on an airplane with the way he’s constantly traveling.
I turn onto Yugi’s street, which is about a block away from mine. I don’t think he sees me yet, but I shouldn’t get too hopeful. Yugi and the others never let me walk to school alone. I suppose I should be thankful that I have such great friends, correct? Well, not exactly. It isn’t that I’m not grateful for them, because I am, but none of them like Bakura, Malik, or Marik. Jou, Honda, and Otogi are always bad-mouthing them, and Yugi will join in every once in a while. Anzu isn’t as bad as the rest of them, but honestly, who can handle listening to that shrill voice *every* morning? I’m often biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from going crazy every single time she begins to speak.
The silence that follows me is replaced with a high-pitched call of my name, laced with a Brooklyn accent obviously belonging to Jou. Turning, I see everyone jogging in my direction. I force a warm smile on my face, trying not to let them know that something is wrong. “Hey, guys,” I say. They greet me accordingly to their personalities. For example, Jou slaps me on the back, telling me how good it is to see me. I wince, but my guard is still standing strong.
“You know what, we’re gonna be late,” Otogi explains, staring at his watch. “Why did we have to wait for Ryou anyway?”
“You all were waiting for me?” I question as we begin walking again.
Yugi nods. “Yeah, we weren’t sure where you were this morning, because you’re normally here much earlier. We thought we could just wait for you at the other end of the street.”
“Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to do that again. I’ve made you all late,” I protest. They assure me that they didn’t mind, but I still wish they hadn’t done it. I feel guilty now! The rest of the walk to school was quite unique. Jou and Honda engaged in several “fights,” in which they’d be pulled apart by Otogi, who would somehow get involved and it’d become a three-way tie, all losers, of course. Yugi, Anzu, and I separated ourselves from them, walking a bit faster than we intended. We approached the school building minutes later, where we settle down on the lawn with other classmates, waiting for the first bell of the day to ring.
“You look tired, Ryou,” Yugi points out.
I blink a few times, then smile. “Well, I stayed up a little longer than I planned.”
“What did you do last night?” Anzu asks, growing suspicious. She sees the cut on my forehead which was left after Bakura pushed me onto the ground.
“Malik and Marik came over for Malik’s birthday,” I suddenly blurt out. ‘Great, Ryou, now they’re going to go on and on about why they don’t trust them. . .and then I’m going to have to hear how dangerous Bakura is, and. . .’
“Malik celebrates his birthday?” Yugi frowns in confusion.
“Bakura told me that last night was the first one he had celebrated in years.”
“Does it really matter?” Anzu questions. “He’s still an psychotic freakshow. I really wish you’d hang around us more often, Ryou. Forgive me for repeating myself, but I just don’t trust them at all.” I nod, but I keep my mouth shut. Maybe, if I act like I’m listening, she’ll stop talking sooner. . .just maybe. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” she pauses, disproving my theory, “but they’re just so. . .*weird* and they seem dangerous.”
“Anzu’s right, Ryou.” Yugi eyes the gash on my face as well, adding, “Um, you can come over my house tonight, if you want. We can watch a movie or something, and you can spend the night. I’m not doing anything else.”
“N-no, Yugi, but thanks anyway.” Anzu opens her huge mouth to get the last word in, but she’s interrupted by the ringing bell of the school. I collect my things and rush inside, losing Yugi and Anzu in the crowd, not that I mind much.
I spent most of the day avoiding everyone, dodging them in the hallway between classes and basically doing everything in my power to force them to leave me to myself. Please don’t misunderstand me, I do appreciate all of the things Yugi and the others have done and still try to do for me. They just worry too much, and with the way they cringe, it makes me seem like a knight in shining armor, which I’m not. If only they’d stop being so concerned about me, we’d probably be a lot closer.
In the middle of lunch, I nearly purged because of how naseous I was feeling. I left a puzzled Yugi in the cafeteria, and now I’m sitting in the clinic, a thermometer underneath my tongue. The nurse, Ms. Laranza, stands in front of me, her hand on my forehead, where she notices the bandaged wound. “What happened here?” She brushes one finger across it.
“I fell over last night, smacking my head against the coffee table.” Ms. Laranza stares at me for a moment, probably suspecting physical abuse. Bakura *did* push me over, but he didn’t mean to injure me the way he did. Although, he could have tried to help me out instead of focusing on Malik. . .
“Well, Mr. Bakura,” Ms. Laranza begins, removing the thermometer from my mouth, “your temperature is unusually high, and I’m going to make a call home. Is anyone able to pick you up in the next half-hour?”
“Yes.” She nods and walks over to her desk, leaving me sitting on a cot near the window. I give her my number, and we both listen, impatiently waiting for Bakura to answer the call. The room suddenly tenses up as I hear my voice on the answering machine. How dare that stupid yami of mine leave the house when I’m not around!? He just doesn’t *think* these things through, and I cannot believe the nerve he has!
/Bakura! If you’re not dead, you had better answer me this second-/
//Calm down, Ryou. I’m not dead, so don’t go celebratin’ yet.// he jokes.
/Where the hell are you!?/
//I’m at some resturant. With Malik. . .//
/. . .that’s great./ I pause, collecting myself. /Well, I’m at school. In the clinic. The nurse says I have a high temperature, and I need you to come pick me up./
//I’m busy.//
“Ryou?”
/I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE BUSY, COME PICK ME UP!/
“Excuse me, Ryou?”
//DON’T START YELLING AT ME! I’LL KICK YOUR WHINING ASS ALL OVER THIS TOWN!//
/WHAT!?/
“Ryou!”
Ms. Laranza’s voice marks the end of my dispute with Bakura. She’s staring at me, wondering why I’m fuming, but I hide my severe anger with a smile. “Uh, no one is at home, obviously, but I know someone else who can come and get me.”
“Who may that be?”
“Y-you’d better let me call him.” I leave the cot, taking the phone from her desk. She leaves the room, giving me temporary privacy. Sighing to release the rage Bakura had given me, I dial Malik’s house. I know that he isn’t home, but there’s a chance that-
“Hello?”
“Marik?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Ryou. Um. . .I’m at school, and my temperature is above average. Bakura c-can’t pick me up right now, and I was wondering if you could. . .but if you can’t, that’s fine, I’ll--”
“No, it’s alright. Just tell me where your school is, and I’ll be there soon.” I happily picture myself standing in Malik’s driveway, wondering how to get to Domino High from there. Once I have the directions planned out in my head, I speak of them to Marik. And, just as he promised, he arrives no less than fifteen minutes later. The loud, irritating sound of a motorcycle is all the proof I need. Ms. Laranza watches with shock as he enters the clinic, quietly cursing as he bumps into a row of chairs near the door. He looks at her with a weak expression, then turns to me. “I’m going to take him home,” he plainly says.
“What is your name, sir?” she questions.
I can see the frustration written all over his face as he answers, “Marik Ishtar.”
“And what is your relation to Ryou Bakura, may I ask?”
“No, you may not ask--”
“He is a friend of my father,” I interrupt, shooting a glance of warning in Marik’s direction.
“Ryou, I’m not so sure if I can allow you to leave with him.” Ms. Laranza shifts in her chair behind her desk, uncomfortably trying to evade Marik’s piercing eyes.
“It’s fine, I assure you. Believe me, if he was of any harm to me, I wouldn’t have called him in the first place.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. It’s okay, Ms. Laranza. Thank you.” We say our goodbyes to the nurse--well, *I* say them, Marik growls at her menacingly--and we practically run down the hallway. As we leave the building, the terrifying thought of riding on that damn motorcycle crosses my mind. I can hear Marik chuckle under his breath as I clutch myself at the first sight of the thing. I fail at trying to sit on it on my own, and I feel my cheeks mortifyingly burning with a deep shade of red as the spirit grasps my hips, throwing me on it like I’m nothing but air. He moves like a professional, without any fear at all, and seconds later, my arms are wrapped so tightly around his waist, one would think they were glued. My eyes slam shut as we speed out of the parking lot and onto the busy road. The sound of cars honking their horns at us only intensifies my queeziness, although Marik seems to love it. “Marik, slow down!” I call. Much to my dismay, he only laughs in return and increases the speed a bit. “Please!”
At a red light, he turns his head slightly, saying, “If I knew something was going to happen to you, I wouldn’t be moving this fast. Just relax, and hold on.” Gulping, I nod, loosening my grip. Feeling a bit braver than I should, I sit up straight, moving my hands to his shoulders. “See? Once you get used to it, it’s not that bad.”
“I guess not.” I weakly smile as we weave through traffic, actually enjoying the ride. However, this cannot be good for my illness. If this wind keeps cutting through me, I’ll be out of school for a week! My stomach twists as we continue to risk our lives, dodging any car in our way. But I must admit that riding this motorcycle is somewhat of an honor. Marik takes great pride in his bike, moreso than Malik. I can only see the backside of him, but with the way his hands grip the handlebars--or whatever they’re called--he seems lost in the moment, as if nothing can phaze him. I wish I had some sort of an escape, just like he does.
The two of us arrive at my home less than five minutes later. My legs shake as they meet the ground, and I nearly fall over as I walk up my drive. Marik is behind me, escorting me to the front door. “Thank you,” I say, unlocking the door. It is only then do I notice that he looks even worse than he did last night. He just doesn’t appear as ominous as normal, and it’s only right of me to suggest that he come inside for a cup of tea. After all, it *is* cold outside.
“No, Ryou, thank you. But I should be getting home.” He doesn’t seem to see the look of disappointment on my face.
“Please? Just for a while, I won’t keep you that long.” I’m just about ready to get down on my knees to plead with him when he sighs and nods, following my cheerful aura into the house. We sit in the kitchen, where the scent of Bakura’s “cooking” lingers in the air.
“What smells?” Marik asks.
“I’d like to know that as well,” I remark, and he finds the answer to his own question. I fill two coffee mugs with tea, placing one in front of him. He stares at it for a second, then picks it up and takes a sip. I giggle as his eyes widen and he almost spills the liquid after slamming it on the table. He turns to me in embarrassment. “Did you expect me to serve it cold?” I laugh as he pushes the mug away from himself. The look on his face is absolutely priceless, and it only makes me wish I had a camera. But it doesn’t take long for all of my amusement to drown in the silence that follows. I stare at him, trying to figure him out. He and Malik are so different in so many ways, just like Bakura and me. But the relationship Bakura and I have is deeper than the two of them, and I’m not sure why. I suppose that’s just what Marik does; he pushes everyone away. I wish he’d stop thinking that everybody is out to get him, because if he’d only open his eyes, he’d see what he’s been missing. “Are you tired?” I suddenly ask.
“A bit tired, yes.”
“Why?”
“. . .well, for one thing, I haven’t been getting much sleep.”
“Why?”
“For Ra’s sake, would you *please* stop asking me stupid fucking questions!? You don’t even care, anyway!”
“Who says I don’t care? I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t care.” My voice is low and cautious as I speak. “Please, Marik, I only want to help you.”
“Help me with what?” He leans back in his seat, taking another sip of the tea, this time making sure it isn’t going to burn his mouth.
“I-I just don’t like it when someone I care about is feeling down.”
“I’ve always felt down, Ryou.” He turns away from me, redirecting his glazing eyes to the window, where a light drizzle begins to fall. It makes the most peaceful sound anyone can imagine, also bringing me a mixture of feelings. I’m slightly angered by Marik’s rude insolence when all I’m trying to do is make him feel better. My memory is completely worn out after spending a day trying to forget Malik, and Bakura’s lack of concern just tops it all off.
“Then. . .get out!” I snap. “I’m just trying to be kind to you, and this is what I get!? You must be crazy if you think I’m going to put up with it for another second. I’ve got too much on my mind as it is, and to have you act like a child is the last thing I need! GET OUT!” I stand violently, knocking my chair to the floor. Slamming one hand on the table, I point to the front door with the other arm, my face red. Marik eyes me with shock. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say a word. He shakes his head and chuckles, mumbling something under his breath. “What was that?” I ask, ready to attack if I need to (although, I’ll only be hurting myself if that should happen). His stern expression returns to frighten me.
“You want to know what’s wrong with me?” he says, almost mockingly.
“Y-yes, I do,” I reply, standing my ground firmly.
“I. . .I’m. . .I just feel alone,” he mutters.
I stand the chair on the floor behind me upright, taking a seat. Leaning across the table as far as I am permitted, I ask, “That’s it?” He scowls. “That’s why you’re acting like this? You’re lonely. Well, Marik,” I pause, smiling as my good mood once again takes control, “I’m available to talk to any time you need.” I feel my heart sink a little, realizing how stupid of an idea that was. Marik isn’t one to “talk,” no matter how badly he needs it. I force myself to relax, a small smile still playing across my lips. “So. . .”
“So, what?” he murmers, fiddling with his tea.
“You don’t have to feel defeated just because you told me what has been bothering you. I’ve read somewhere that admitting you have a problem is the first step to fixing it,” I say proudly.
“That may be, but I’m not an alcoholic. Loneliness is something I must deal with; it’s a minor set-back. I wouldn’t even consider it a true problem.”
“Of course it is!” I exclaim, almost falling off of my chair again. “And it can be cured, just like alcoholism.” Smirking, I manage to pull a smile onto his face. “But I’m completely useless if you don’t explain this clearly.” I truly mean this last statement. There isn’t too much that I can think of that is able to hurt Marik, so he’s going to have to speak as if I’m a child if he is looking for any help at all.
“I can’t explain it, I just feel it. It appears as though no one else feels it, though, not like I do.” He sighs, hopefully letting all of this tension pass. “Malik acts like I don’t even exist, with his head so far up Bakura’s ass--”
“What do you mean by that?” I interject quickly, probably more concerned than I’d like to admit.
“I mean that he has himself certain that he’s in love with your yami, but that fool doesn’t know love.”
“And you do?”
“. . .not exactly.”
I settle down, my heart beating a little faster. Studying Marik, I still can’t comprehend why he--of all people--would feel lonely. Then again, Malik *does* focus mainly on himself. But he has Bakura, and I always thought the two of them were close friends. And I. . .well, I suppose he considers me a friend, too. “Feel any better?”
“No,” he mutters, breaking the gaze he had fixated on me.
Of course I am angered by this. An unnatural rage stirs within me, but I force myself to leave it be. ‘I should have expected something like this from him,’ I think. ‘It’s just Marik.’ Despite how pissed off I am right now, I can’t believe that he just opened up to me. I didn’t even think he *had* feelings, let alone know how to express them so easily. I thought I would need to fight with him so much more than I did, but maybe he’s learned that it isn’t worth living like everybody hates him. Because, in my book, he isn’t hated at all. Forget about Yugi and his friends--yes, they are his friends, not mine--they don’t matter one bit. If Marik is this willing to let me know how he feels at times, there might be a decent person beneath the hard-ass exterior he tries so hard to live up to. I smile just thinking of this, and I am not about to give up on him now. “So, what’s new?”
“Hm?”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing’s. . .up.” He cocks his head to one side, staring at me with narrow eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah. . .” I take a rather long sip of my tea, slightly disappointed in him. I thought for a moment that we were getting somewhere, but apparently I was wrong. And now, it seems that our conversation has ended. Boredom is written all over his face, as it is mine. There isn’t anything to talk about, although there could be. Marik obviously doesn’t see this.
Finally, he does speak. But it isn’t exactly something I would have liked to hear. “What’s with you and Malik?”
“Wh-what!?” I exclaim. Then, in a quieter voice, “I mean, excuse me?”
He laughs, “You got me to talk, so you’re not backing out now, are you?”
Clearing my throat, I find the words. “There never was, isn’t, and never will be anything *with* us, whatever you mean by that.” He doesn’t look satisfied with my answer.
“What a shame,” he plainly states. He glances at the clock on the wall, sighing as it reads that it’s only two in the afternoon. “You should be in bed resting.” Standing, he places the empty coffee mug in the sink, running water in it. “Thank you, Ryou, but I must get home.”
I can’t explain the sudden urge I feel to stop him, to make him stay. I chase after him as he strolls into the living room, grabbing his jacket off of the couch. “Marik, is there a specific reason you must be home?” He turns to me, shaking his head. “Then, could you stay, just for a bit longer?”
“No, you’re sick. You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I have a high temperature. If I were to be puking my brains out, then maybe I’d lie down. But I have company!” I say excitedly, practically tearing his coat out of his hands. I softly take his arm, dragging him into the basement, which is more like the entertainment area. A wide-screen television is the first thing to greet you as you walk down the steps. A few feet away from that is a couch, and to the left of that, beneath a small window, is a loveseat. Bakura is desperately trying to talk me into buying an air hockey table, and he never shuts up about it! I’m not made of money, and it’s probably my fault that he always pesters me. I made the mistake of letting him tag along when Yugi invited me to an arcade. I spent about fifteen dollars just so Bakura was able to beat Yami and finally prove that Yami isn’t the king of *all* games. . .
Marik uneasily takes a seat on the couch, and I plop down beside him. I smile at him, turning on the television. There is a certain network dedicated to women. Bakura calls it a bunch of “chick movies,” but I find them enjoyable. Unfortunately, I must watch them when my yami isn’t around, for all he does is make fun if he catches me wallowing in this particular channel. Even Malik laughs at me for watching it, but what he thinks doesn’t really matter to me anymore. I find this channel, and I immediately become lost in the movie being displayed. But then I realize that I’ve seen it before, and I lose interest. Taking a peek at Marik, I expect him to be scowling angrily at the screen, but I see something much different. He’s leaning forward, his elbow on his thigh, holding his chin in the palm of his hand. ‘Is he watching this? Really, truly, seriously *watching* it!? He must be sicker than I am!’
“Have you seen this before?” I ask out of curiousity. I move closer to him, possibly finding some sort of connection. He shakes his head, eyes still locked on the T.V. “Oh. I have, and it’s pretty good, but only the first time you see it. It gets old after that.” He glances at me without noticing the fact that I am beaming! I don’t even know him right now, but I’m too thrilled to dwell on that issue. Marik *does* share an interest with me, much to my delight! I always pictured him as the type to do nothing but criticize, and for the longest time, that was all he did. But now I see him in an entire new light, as if he’s undergone a drastic change in the middle of the night. And I never would have guessed this from him. I catch a glimpse of the rain falling impossibly hard, the sky darkening. Looking at the clock, it is now 2:20, and I still haven’t heard from Bakura. Offering one last smile to the strange new person sitting next to me, I open the mental link.
/Bakura?/
//Ryou, now is not the time.//
/Alright, I just need to know if you’re coming home any time soon./
//No. Stayin’ at Malik’s tonight.//
I swallow hard, blinking, but not surprised.
//Hey, do you know where Marik is?//
/Um, yes, he’s with me./
//What the hell is he doing over there?//
/He picked me up from school, you know, when you could not./ I tried my hardest at laying an extreme guilt trip on him. But, knowing Bakura, it was probably unsuccessful.
//Well, tell him I said hi. And get some rest if you’re sick. See you tomorrow.//
/. . .goodbye./ Closing the link, I take a step back into reality.
“Talking to Bakura?” Marik suddenly asks.
“Y-yes. He’s at your house. . .with Malik. He says he isn’t coming home tonight, and, well, the rest is pretty damn obvious, isn’t it?” I speak with a harsh tone, one that isn’t usually found in my voice. Marik looks utterly disgusted. I can tell by his face that all he wanted to do was go home, and I can also see his reluctance now that I have revealed the news about my yami and his hikari.
“It looks like I’m not going home tonight, either,” he says, sinking in the couch.
“Not necessarily, Marik. You can spend the night over here, if you have nowhere else to go. I don’t mind, and I can’t blame you for not wanting to hear the two of them all night long.” I stare at the floor, hardly believing that I just invited Marik to sleep over. He’s not going to stay. Why would he? He probably has tons of places to go--
“You’re sure you don’t care?”
His words shock me beyond belief. “Of course I don’t!” I chirp, jumping to my feet. A small smile forms on Marik’s face as he follows me up the stairs, trying to keep up. I take the steps two at a time, and you can’t imagine how happy I am that I won’t be alone tonight. And I can sense that Marik is just as thankful as I am that I suggested he stay. We walk through the kitchen and I lead him to the second floor of the home, showing him Bakura’s room. “You can sleep in here, and Bakura has some clothes you can borrow. They might be a little tight, but he’s smaller than you are, so. . .you’ll be fine. Oh, I’m so excited!”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Ryou,” he claims, half-smiling.
“Yes it is,” I bluntly reply. He shrugs, giving up. “So, you’re the guest, what do you want to do?”
“Um. . .what we were doing before you completely spazzed out was fine.” I smile and we head back to the basement, picking up on the film where we left off. This movie--which isn’t a personal favorite, although Marik seems to like it--ends a little over a half-hour later. Another one begins, and we can’t take our eyes off the screen! Well, he can’t take his eyes off the screen. I’m too busy staring at him, wondering why he decided to change so suddenly. He still has that moody appeal about him, but he actually talked and told me what he was feeling. To me, that is a major accomplishment for someone of his nature. He catches me looking at him and smiles, causing my face to flush. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how. . .attractive he is. I guess I never really tried to notice with the way I used to spend over half of my day watching Malik’s every move. But to describe Marik in a word: breath-taking. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before, and now that I have finally witnessed it for myself, my eyes are glued to him.
He looks at me, confused. “Do you have some penchant for staring at others?”
“N-no, I’m sorry,” I apologize, jerking my head toward the television. An hour into the movie, the sky becomes even darker. Rain relentlessly pounds on the roof, and lightening lights up the dim room here and there. None of this is able to bother me more than thunder. The horrible, threatening sound of whatever causes thunder is the one thing I hate in this world. Except spiders. And sometimes, Bakura. But even that doesn’t come close to my hatred of thunder.
All of the sudden, that terrible crashing sound prompts me to grab the nearest thing, which miraculously happens to be Marik. I clutch his arm, practically sitting on his lap by the time the noise ceases. He places one hand on my back, recognizing my fear. But even as the thunder’s sound fades away, I still cling to him like a child holds his favorite toy. Our eyes meet, and everything, even time itself, stands still. I can’t turn away from those powerful violet orbs of his, nor can he look away from me. All thoughts that have anything to do with Malik and Bakura disappear, only to be replaced with thoughts of the spirit sitting before me. My breathing picks up the pace, and the inevitable occurs just seconds later. Licking my dry lips to moisten them, I lean forward, placing a light kiss on his cheek. As I pull away, I change my position, fully straddling him. I’m not so sure why I feel as confident as I do, or why I’m even doing this. Something about him is just so tempting. . .so beautifully fragile, brilliant and perfect, I cannot deny it.
Marik looks as if he’s caught in a trance. He sits still, which makes me nervous. If this leads anywhere at all tonight, I get the sense that he isn’t going to be as dominant as one would think. And I can’t dominate anything! What if I screw up? What if he thinks this is just a joke and becomes furious? I wouldn’t be able to look at him the same again. And all of the progress we made tonight will be lost. I can’t just walk away from this when we’ve come this far.
And I still can’t explain my feelings for him. I never confirmed whether I did love him or not, but when I had punctured the wall he had built around himself, I discovered something more, I guess, even if I’m not sure what it is yet. I repeat our previous actions, but this time, I kiss his lips. He is unresponsive for a second or two, but he comes around soon enough. And I’ll be damned if I ever taste something as sweet as him for as long as I live. He’s sweet, with just a hint of spiciness. Parting my lips, I allow his tongue to slide into my mouth, taking its time to explore every inch of the area. Not long after, the kiss becomes a tad more violent. He bites my lower lip--hard--causing me to cry out in slight pain.
“I’m sorry!” he shrieks, pulling away.
‘So much for not dominating, Marik,’ I say to myself. “It’s okay.” As I lean forward again to continue, he struggles not to capitulate. “What’s wrong?”
“Ryou, I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. We shouldn’t even be doing this. . .”
I nod, seeing the situation from his point of view. I slowly pull myself away from him, trying to avoid looking at his face at all costs. “I-I’ll be upstairs, then.” I wordlessly tackle the steps, my cheeks on fire. What did I do wrong? If I’m not mistaken, he said he was afraid of “hurting” me. What an idiot! Here I am, trying to get somewhere with him, and he rejects me?
As if I was struck unconscience, I fall onto the couch face-first in the living room, falling asleep soon after.
_____
A/N: Sorry, no lemon in this chapter, either! But if you keep up with the fic and REVIEW, there will be one in the next chapter. Thanks to those who are reading. Love ya!
Warnings: Stronger use of language, slight yaoi, and a weird Ryou.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! characters or storyline.
In Your Eyes
By: cassie_k
Chapter Two
The first thing I noticed the next morning was the object grasped in my hands. Through tired, barely opened eyes, I see the picture of Malik stashed beneath my pillow lying on my stomach, my grip clutching it. I’m attacked by a mixture of different ways to react, and the best way to handle this situation is. . .to whip the frame across the god damn room! Sitting up in my bed, I launch the photo with all of my might, watching with glee as the glass shatters and hits the floor. Bakura appears out of nowhere--literally--and stands at the side of my bed, his eyes wide.
“What the fuck just happened!?” he gasps, taking a hold of my shoulders and shaking me.
“What happened? WHAT HAPPENED!? I’ll tell you what happened! I opened my eyes to meet a brand new day, but what I *do* see is this evil being smiling back at me!” If you’re confused by my words--and you most likely are--I’ll explain later. But as of now, I leap out of bed, storming off into the hallway, where I lock myself inside the bathroom. Plopping down angrily on the toilet, I cross my legs, huffing.
“Uh. . .Ryou?” Bakura’s confused voice calls to me through the door.
“What?” I snap.
“I thought you said you weren’t upset about--”
“Well, maybe I am!” I cry.
“Please, don’t be angry with me,” he pleas, and I can’t resist. I really wish he wasn’t so good at pouting.
Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I state, “I’m not angry with you, Bakura. You and Malik can have all the fun you want, and I’ll be just fine. Yes, I am upset, and angry, and mad, but not at you. I’d blame myself before blaming you or Malik.” What a lie *that* was!
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Just don’t worry about it, okay?” I release a heavy, overexaggerated sigh before turning to the bathtub. Checking the small clock on the wall, I realize that I overslept about fifteen minutes. School begins in less than one hour, and I should hurry if I’m bound to make it on time. “I’m going to shower, Bakura. I’ll be out in a while.” I can sense him leaving the hall and returning to my bedroom, where I assume he is cleaning up the broken shards of the picture. Such a shame I can’t control my temper at times; that was a lovely photo of Malik.
As I cleanse myself, I try to think things through. I know it’s not Malik’s fault, although it may be partially Bakura’s fault, but it’s mostly up to me to take full responsibility. When Bakura and I both revealed how we felt for the same boy, I never thought things would go this far. I’m feeling ten times worse than I probably should, and it’s hurting my yami as well.
I recognize that Bakura isn’t exactly selfless, but he and I developed a close relationship based entirely on brotherly love over time. More often than not, we have quarrels, but he is always the one apologizing, even if he isn’t to blame. And now that he has seen how this ordeal with Malik has affected me, he is afraid of causing further pain. I really wish he’d just stop thinking about me for once, as strange as that sounds.
The warm water falls right into my eyes, blurring my vision. Turning the other way, I stop the running water altogether. Wiping my eyes, I carefully step out of the tub, drying myself with a towel. I walk across the hallway, where I pull out various outfits to decide what to wear, and that is where my exhaustion gets to me. ‘Wish I didn’t stay up so late last night,’ I say to myself. ‘Oh, well. At least it’s Friday, thank God.’ I’m not sure why I forgot, but the school I attend requires a uniform that I hate to wear. I return all of my other clothing where I found it, stomp over to my closet, and pull out that dreadful old thing. Reluctantly dressing myself, I gather my books, heading downstairs, where I smell the familiar odor lingering in the air. It’s so foul and vile, and just to top it all off, I am able to see the gray smoke drowning my kitchen and living room. Yes, you guessed it: Bakura’s cooking, and miserably failing.
I poke my head into the kitchen, and I see a sight much similar to my yami’s wrestling match with the oven last night. He turns back to me, clenching his weapon of choice. Which is yet again, a frying pan. Shrugging, he smiles and just stands there looking dumb, waiting for me to stroll right in and make the fire alarm stop screaming, and to get rid of the smell. But I shake my head in disappointment instead. He scowls as I point to the fire extinguisher, and I know he’s watching while I turn my back to him, walking through the front door. With my algebra book in one arm and a bagged lunch in the other, I’m set. The only problem I face now is getting to the school. I wish that my father didn’t have to choose a home so far away from Domino High, but I don’t think he cared much when buying a house. He might as well live on an airplane with the way he’s constantly traveling.
I turn onto Yugi’s street, which is about a block away from mine. I don’t think he sees me yet, but I shouldn’t get too hopeful. Yugi and the others never let me walk to school alone. I suppose I should be thankful that I have such great friends, correct? Well, not exactly. It isn’t that I’m not grateful for them, because I am, but none of them like Bakura, Malik, or Marik. Jou, Honda, and Otogi are always bad-mouthing them, and Yugi will join in every once in a while. Anzu isn’t as bad as the rest of them, but honestly, who can handle listening to that shrill voice *every* morning? I’m often biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from going crazy every single time she begins to speak.
The silence that follows me is replaced with a high-pitched call of my name, laced with a Brooklyn accent obviously belonging to Jou. Turning, I see everyone jogging in my direction. I force a warm smile on my face, trying not to let them know that something is wrong. “Hey, guys,” I say. They greet me accordingly to their personalities. For example, Jou slaps me on the back, telling me how good it is to see me. I wince, but my guard is still standing strong.
“You know what, we’re gonna be late,” Otogi explains, staring at his watch. “Why did we have to wait for Ryou anyway?”
“You all were waiting for me?” I question as we begin walking again.
Yugi nods. “Yeah, we weren’t sure where you were this morning, because you’re normally here much earlier. We thought we could just wait for you at the other end of the street.”
“Oh, thank you, but you don’t have to do that again. I’ve made you all late,” I protest. They assure me that they didn’t mind, but I still wish they hadn’t done it. I feel guilty now! The rest of the walk to school was quite unique. Jou and Honda engaged in several “fights,” in which they’d be pulled apart by Otogi, who would somehow get involved and it’d become a three-way tie, all losers, of course. Yugi, Anzu, and I separated ourselves from them, walking a bit faster than we intended. We approached the school building minutes later, where we settle down on the lawn with other classmates, waiting for the first bell of the day to ring.
“You look tired, Ryou,” Yugi points out.
I blink a few times, then smile. “Well, I stayed up a little longer than I planned.”
“What did you do last night?” Anzu asks, growing suspicious. She sees the cut on my forehead which was left after Bakura pushed me onto the ground.
“Malik and Marik came over for Malik’s birthday,” I suddenly blurt out. ‘Great, Ryou, now they’re going to go on and on about why they don’t trust them. . .and then I’m going to have to hear how dangerous Bakura is, and. . .’
“Malik celebrates his birthday?” Yugi frowns in confusion.
“Bakura told me that last night was the first one he had celebrated in years.”
“Does it really matter?” Anzu questions. “He’s still an psychotic freakshow. I really wish you’d hang around us more often, Ryou. Forgive me for repeating myself, but I just don’t trust them at all.” I nod, but I keep my mouth shut. Maybe, if I act like I’m listening, she’ll stop talking sooner. . .just maybe. “I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” she pauses, disproving my theory, “but they’re just so. . .*weird* and they seem dangerous.”
“Anzu’s right, Ryou.” Yugi eyes the gash on my face as well, adding, “Um, you can come over my house tonight, if you want. We can watch a movie or something, and you can spend the night. I’m not doing anything else.”
“N-no, Yugi, but thanks anyway.” Anzu opens her huge mouth to get the last word in, but she’s interrupted by the ringing bell of the school. I collect my things and rush inside, losing Yugi and Anzu in the crowd, not that I mind much.
I spent most of the day avoiding everyone, dodging them in the hallway between classes and basically doing everything in my power to force them to leave me to myself. Please don’t misunderstand me, I do appreciate all of the things Yugi and the others have done and still try to do for me. They just worry too much, and with the way they cringe, it makes me seem like a knight in shining armor, which I’m not. If only they’d stop being so concerned about me, we’d probably be a lot closer.
In the middle of lunch, I nearly purged because of how naseous I was feeling. I left a puzzled Yugi in the cafeteria, and now I’m sitting in the clinic, a thermometer underneath my tongue. The nurse, Ms. Laranza, stands in front of me, her hand on my forehead, where she notices the bandaged wound. “What happened here?” She brushes one finger across it.
“I fell over last night, smacking my head against the coffee table.” Ms. Laranza stares at me for a moment, probably suspecting physical abuse. Bakura *did* push me over, but he didn’t mean to injure me the way he did. Although, he could have tried to help me out instead of focusing on Malik. . .
“Well, Mr. Bakura,” Ms. Laranza begins, removing the thermometer from my mouth, “your temperature is unusually high, and I’m going to make a call home. Is anyone able to pick you up in the next half-hour?”
“Yes.” She nods and walks over to her desk, leaving me sitting on a cot near the window. I give her my number, and we both listen, impatiently waiting for Bakura to answer the call. The room suddenly tenses up as I hear my voice on the answering machine. How dare that stupid yami of mine leave the house when I’m not around!? He just doesn’t *think* these things through, and I cannot believe the nerve he has!
/Bakura! If you’re not dead, you had better answer me this second-/
//Calm down, Ryou. I’m not dead, so don’t go celebratin’ yet.// he jokes.
/Where the hell are you!?/
//I’m at some resturant. With Malik. . .//
/. . .that’s great./ I pause, collecting myself. /Well, I’m at school. In the clinic. The nurse says I have a high temperature, and I need you to come pick me up./
//I’m busy.//
“Ryou?”
/I DON’T CARE IF YOU’RE BUSY, COME PICK ME UP!/
“Excuse me, Ryou?”
//DON’T START YELLING AT ME! I’LL KICK YOUR WHINING ASS ALL OVER THIS TOWN!//
/WHAT!?/
“Ryou!”
Ms. Laranza’s voice marks the end of my dispute with Bakura. She’s staring at me, wondering why I’m fuming, but I hide my severe anger with a smile. “Uh, no one is at home, obviously, but I know someone else who can come and get me.”
“Who may that be?”
“Y-you’d better let me call him.” I leave the cot, taking the phone from her desk. She leaves the room, giving me temporary privacy. Sighing to release the rage Bakura had given me, I dial Malik’s house. I know that he isn’t home, but there’s a chance that-
“Hello?”
“Marik?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Ryou. Um. . .I’m at school, and my temperature is above average. Bakura c-can’t pick me up right now, and I was wondering if you could. . .but if you can’t, that’s fine, I’ll--”
“No, it’s alright. Just tell me where your school is, and I’ll be there soon.” I happily picture myself standing in Malik’s driveway, wondering how to get to Domino High from there. Once I have the directions planned out in my head, I speak of them to Marik. And, just as he promised, he arrives no less than fifteen minutes later. The loud, irritating sound of a motorcycle is all the proof I need. Ms. Laranza watches with shock as he enters the clinic, quietly cursing as he bumps into a row of chairs near the door. He looks at her with a weak expression, then turns to me. “I’m going to take him home,” he plainly says.
“What is your name, sir?” she questions.
I can see the frustration written all over his face as he answers, “Marik Ishtar.”
“And what is your relation to Ryou Bakura, may I ask?”
“No, you may not ask--”
“He is a friend of my father,” I interrupt, shooting a glance of warning in Marik’s direction.
“Ryou, I’m not so sure if I can allow you to leave with him.” Ms. Laranza shifts in her chair behind her desk, uncomfortably trying to evade Marik’s piercing eyes.
“It’s fine, I assure you. Believe me, if he was of any harm to me, I wouldn’t have called him in the first place.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. It’s okay, Ms. Laranza. Thank you.” We say our goodbyes to the nurse--well, *I* say them, Marik growls at her menacingly--and we practically run down the hallway. As we leave the building, the terrifying thought of riding on that damn motorcycle crosses my mind. I can hear Marik chuckle under his breath as I clutch myself at the first sight of the thing. I fail at trying to sit on it on my own, and I feel my cheeks mortifyingly burning with a deep shade of red as the spirit grasps my hips, throwing me on it like I’m nothing but air. He moves like a professional, without any fear at all, and seconds later, my arms are wrapped so tightly around his waist, one would think they were glued. My eyes slam shut as we speed out of the parking lot and onto the busy road. The sound of cars honking their horns at us only intensifies my queeziness, although Marik seems to love it. “Marik, slow down!” I call. Much to my dismay, he only laughs in return and increases the speed a bit. “Please!”
At a red light, he turns his head slightly, saying, “If I knew something was going to happen to you, I wouldn’t be moving this fast. Just relax, and hold on.” Gulping, I nod, loosening my grip. Feeling a bit braver than I should, I sit up straight, moving my hands to his shoulders. “See? Once you get used to it, it’s not that bad.”
“I guess not.” I weakly smile as we weave through traffic, actually enjoying the ride. However, this cannot be good for my illness. If this wind keeps cutting through me, I’ll be out of school for a week! My stomach twists as we continue to risk our lives, dodging any car in our way. But I must admit that riding this motorcycle is somewhat of an honor. Marik takes great pride in his bike, moreso than Malik. I can only see the backside of him, but with the way his hands grip the handlebars--or whatever they’re called--he seems lost in the moment, as if nothing can phaze him. I wish I had some sort of an escape, just like he does.
The two of us arrive at my home less than five minutes later. My legs shake as they meet the ground, and I nearly fall over as I walk up my drive. Marik is behind me, escorting me to the front door. “Thank you,” I say, unlocking the door. It is only then do I notice that he looks even worse than he did last night. He just doesn’t appear as ominous as normal, and it’s only right of me to suggest that he come inside for a cup of tea. After all, it *is* cold outside.
“No, Ryou, thank you. But I should be getting home.” He doesn’t seem to see the look of disappointment on my face.
“Please? Just for a while, I won’t keep you that long.” I’m just about ready to get down on my knees to plead with him when he sighs and nods, following my cheerful aura into the house. We sit in the kitchen, where the scent of Bakura’s “cooking” lingers in the air.
“What smells?” Marik asks.
“I’d like to know that as well,” I remark, and he finds the answer to his own question. I fill two coffee mugs with tea, placing one in front of him. He stares at it for a second, then picks it up and takes a sip. I giggle as his eyes widen and he almost spills the liquid after slamming it on the table. He turns to me in embarrassment. “Did you expect me to serve it cold?” I laugh as he pushes the mug away from himself. The look on his face is absolutely priceless, and it only makes me wish I had a camera. But it doesn’t take long for all of my amusement to drown in the silence that follows. I stare at him, trying to figure him out. He and Malik are so different in so many ways, just like Bakura and me. But the relationship Bakura and I have is deeper than the two of them, and I’m not sure why. I suppose that’s just what Marik does; he pushes everyone away. I wish he’d stop thinking that everybody is out to get him, because if he’d only open his eyes, he’d see what he’s been missing. “Are you tired?” I suddenly ask.
“A bit tired, yes.”
“Why?”
“. . .well, for one thing, I haven’t been getting much sleep.”
“Why?”
“For Ra’s sake, would you *please* stop asking me stupid fucking questions!? You don’t even care, anyway!”
“Who says I don’t care? I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t care.” My voice is low and cautious as I speak. “Please, Marik, I only want to help you.”
“Help me with what?” He leans back in his seat, taking another sip of the tea, this time making sure it isn’t going to burn his mouth.
“I-I just don’t like it when someone I care about is feeling down.”
“I’ve always felt down, Ryou.” He turns away from me, redirecting his glazing eyes to the window, where a light drizzle begins to fall. It makes the most peaceful sound anyone can imagine, also bringing me a mixture of feelings. I’m slightly angered by Marik’s rude insolence when all I’m trying to do is make him feel better. My memory is completely worn out after spending a day trying to forget Malik, and Bakura’s lack of concern just tops it all off.
“Then. . .get out!” I snap. “I’m just trying to be kind to you, and this is what I get!? You must be crazy if you think I’m going to put up with it for another second. I’ve got too much on my mind as it is, and to have you act like a child is the last thing I need! GET OUT!” I stand violently, knocking my chair to the floor. Slamming one hand on the table, I point to the front door with the other arm, my face red. Marik eyes me with shock. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t say a word. He shakes his head and chuckles, mumbling something under his breath. “What was that?” I ask, ready to attack if I need to (although, I’ll only be hurting myself if that should happen). His stern expression returns to frighten me.
“You want to know what’s wrong with me?” he says, almost mockingly.
“Y-yes, I do,” I reply, standing my ground firmly.
“I. . .I’m. . .I just feel alone,” he mutters.
I stand the chair on the floor behind me upright, taking a seat. Leaning across the table as far as I am permitted, I ask, “That’s it?” He scowls. “That’s why you’re acting like this? You’re lonely. Well, Marik,” I pause, smiling as my good mood once again takes control, “I’m available to talk to any time you need.” I feel my heart sink a little, realizing how stupid of an idea that was. Marik isn’t one to “talk,” no matter how badly he needs it. I force myself to relax, a small smile still playing across my lips. “So. . .”
“So, what?” he murmers, fiddling with his tea.
“You don’t have to feel defeated just because you told me what has been bothering you. I’ve read somewhere that admitting you have a problem is the first step to fixing it,” I say proudly.
“That may be, but I’m not an alcoholic. Loneliness is something I must deal with; it’s a minor set-back. I wouldn’t even consider it a true problem.”
“Of course it is!” I exclaim, almost falling off of my chair again. “And it can be cured, just like alcoholism.” Smirking, I manage to pull a smile onto his face. “But I’m completely useless if you don’t explain this clearly.” I truly mean this last statement. There isn’t too much that I can think of that is able to hurt Marik, so he’s going to have to speak as if I’m a child if he is looking for any help at all.
“I can’t explain it, I just feel it. It appears as though no one else feels it, though, not like I do.” He sighs, hopefully letting all of this tension pass. “Malik acts like I don’t even exist, with his head so far up Bakura’s ass--”
“What do you mean by that?” I interject quickly, probably more concerned than I’d like to admit.
“I mean that he has himself certain that he’s in love with your yami, but that fool doesn’t know love.”
“And you do?”
“. . .not exactly.”
I settle down, my heart beating a little faster. Studying Marik, I still can’t comprehend why he--of all people--would feel lonely. Then again, Malik *does* focus mainly on himself. But he has Bakura, and I always thought the two of them were close friends. And I. . .well, I suppose he considers me a friend, too. “Feel any better?”
“No,” he mutters, breaking the gaze he had fixated on me.
Of course I am angered by this. An unnatural rage stirs within me, but I force myself to leave it be. ‘I should have expected something like this from him,’ I think. ‘It’s just Marik.’ Despite how pissed off I am right now, I can’t believe that he just opened up to me. I didn’t even think he *had* feelings, let alone know how to express them so easily. I thought I would need to fight with him so much more than I did, but maybe he’s learned that it isn’t worth living like everybody hates him. Because, in my book, he isn’t hated at all. Forget about Yugi and his friends--yes, they are his friends, not mine--they don’t matter one bit. If Marik is this willing to let me know how he feels at times, there might be a decent person beneath the hard-ass exterior he tries so hard to live up to. I smile just thinking of this, and I am not about to give up on him now. “So, what’s new?”
“Hm?”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing’s. . .up.” He cocks his head to one side, staring at me with narrow eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Ah. . .” I take a rather long sip of my tea, slightly disappointed in him. I thought for a moment that we were getting somewhere, but apparently I was wrong. And now, it seems that our conversation has ended. Boredom is written all over his face, as it is mine. There isn’t anything to talk about, although there could be. Marik obviously doesn’t see this.
Finally, he does speak. But it isn’t exactly something I would have liked to hear. “What’s with you and Malik?”
“Wh-what!?” I exclaim. Then, in a quieter voice, “I mean, excuse me?”
He laughs, “You got me to talk, so you’re not backing out now, are you?”
Clearing my throat, I find the words. “There never was, isn’t, and never will be anything *with* us, whatever you mean by that.” He doesn’t look satisfied with my answer.
“What a shame,” he plainly states. He glances at the clock on the wall, sighing as it reads that it’s only two in the afternoon. “You should be in bed resting.” Standing, he places the empty coffee mug in the sink, running water in it. “Thank you, Ryou, but I must get home.”
I can’t explain the sudden urge I feel to stop him, to make him stay. I chase after him as he strolls into the living room, grabbing his jacket off of the couch. “Marik, is there a specific reason you must be home?” He turns to me, shaking his head. “Then, could you stay, just for a bit longer?”
“No, you’re sick. You’re supposed to be asleep.”
“I have a high temperature. If I were to be puking my brains out, then maybe I’d lie down. But I have company!” I say excitedly, practically tearing his coat out of his hands. I softly take his arm, dragging him into the basement, which is more like the entertainment area. A wide-screen television is the first thing to greet you as you walk down the steps. A few feet away from that is a couch, and to the left of that, beneath a small window, is a loveseat. Bakura is desperately trying to talk me into buying an air hockey table, and he never shuts up about it! I’m not made of money, and it’s probably my fault that he always pesters me. I made the mistake of letting him tag along when Yugi invited me to an arcade. I spent about fifteen dollars just so Bakura was able to beat Yami and finally prove that Yami isn’t the king of *all* games. . .
Marik uneasily takes a seat on the couch, and I plop down beside him. I smile at him, turning on the television. There is a certain network dedicated to women. Bakura calls it a bunch of “chick movies,” but I find them enjoyable. Unfortunately, I must watch them when my yami isn’t around, for all he does is make fun if he catches me wallowing in this particular channel. Even Malik laughs at me for watching it, but what he thinks doesn’t really matter to me anymore. I find this channel, and I immediately become lost in the movie being displayed. But then I realize that I’ve seen it before, and I lose interest. Taking a peek at Marik, I expect him to be scowling angrily at the screen, but I see something much different. He’s leaning forward, his elbow on his thigh, holding his chin in the palm of his hand. ‘Is he watching this? Really, truly, seriously *watching* it!? He must be sicker than I am!’
“Have you seen this before?” I ask out of curiousity. I move closer to him, possibly finding some sort of connection. He shakes his head, eyes still locked on the T.V. “Oh. I have, and it’s pretty good, but only the first time you see it. It gets old after that.” He glances at me without noticing the fact that I am beaming! I don’t even know him right now, but I’m too thrilled to dwell on that issue. Marik *does* share an interest with me, much to my delight! I always pictured him as the type to do nothing but criticize, and for the longest time, that was all he did. But now I see him in an entire new light, as if he’s undergone a drastic change in the middle of the night. And I never would have guessed this from him. I catch a glimpse of the rain falling impossibly hard, the sky darkening. Looking at the clock, it is now 2:20, and I still haven’t heard from Bakura. Offering one last smile to the strange new person sitting next to me, I open the mental link.
/Bakura?/
//Ryou, now is not the time.//
/Alright, I just need to know if you’re coming home any time soon./
//No. Stayin’ at Malik’s tonight.//
I swallow hard, blinking, but not surprised.
//Hey, do you know where Marik is?//
/Um, yes, he’s with me./
//What the hell is he doing over there?//
/He picked me up from school, you know, when you could not./ I tried my hardest at laying an extreme guilt trip on him. But, knowing Bakura, it was probably unsuccessful.
//Well, tell him I said hi. And get some rest if you’re sick. See you tomorrow.//
/. . .goodbye./ Closing the link, I take a step back into reality.
“Talking to Bakura?” Marik suddenly asks.
“Y-yes. He’s at your house. . .with Malik. He says he isn’t coming home tonight, and, well, the rest is pretty damn obvious, isn’t it?” I speak with a harsh tone, one that isn’t usually found in my voice. Marik looks utterly disgusted. I can tell by his face that all he wanted to do was go home, and I can also see his reluctance now that I have revealed the news about my yami and his hikari.
“It looks like I’m not going home tonight, either,” he says, sinking in the couch.
“Not necessarily, Marik. You can spend the night over here, if you have nowhere else to go. I don’t mind, and I can’t blame you for not wanting to hear the two of them all night long.” I stare at the floor, hardly believing that I just invited Marik to sleep over. He’s not going to stay. Why would he? He probably has tons of places to go--
“You’re sure you don’t care?”
His words shock me beyond belief. “Of course I don’t!” I chirp, jumping to my feet. A small smile forms on Marik’s face as he follows me up the stairs, trying to keep up. I take the steps two at a time, and you can’t imagine how happy I am that I won’t be alone tonight. And I can sense that Marik is just as thankful as I am that I suggested he stay. We walk through the kitchen and I lead him to the second floor of the home, showing him Bakura’s room. “You can sleep in here, and Bakura has some clothes you can borrow. They might be a little tight, but he’s smaller than you are, so. . .you’ll be fine. Oh, I’m so excited!”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Ryou,” he claims, half-smiling.
“Yes it is,” I bluntly reply. He shrugs, giving up. “So, you’re the guest, what do you want to do?”
“Um. . .what we were doing before you completely spazzed out was fine.” I smile and we head back to the basement, picking up on the film where we left off. This movie--which isn’t a personal favorite, although Marik seems to like it--ends a little over a half-hour later. Another one begins, and we can’t take our eyes off the screen! Well, he can’t take his eyes off the screen. I’m too busy staring at him, wondering why he decided to change so suddenly. He still has that moody appeal about him, but he actually talked and told me what he was feeling. To me, that is a major accomplishment for someone of his nature. He catches me looking at him and smiles, causing my face to flush. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed how. . .attractive he is. I guess I never really tried to notice with the way I used to spend over half of my day watching Malik’s every move. But to describe Marik in a word: breath-taking. I can’t believe I’ve never seen it before, and now that I have finally witnessed it for myself, my eyes are glued to him.
He looks at me, confused. “Do you have some penchant for staring at others?”
“N-no, I’m sorry,” I apologize, jerking my head toward the television. An hour into the movie, the sky becomes even darker. Rain relentlessly pounds on the roof, and lightening lights up the dim room here and there. None of this is able to bother me more than thunder. The horrible, threatening sound of whatever causes thunder is the one thing I hate in this world. Except spiders. And sometimes, Bakura. But even that doesn’t come close to my hatred of thunder.
All of the sudden, that terrible crashing sound prompts me to grab the nearest thing, which miraculously happens to be Marik. I clutch his arm, practically sitting on his lap by the time the noise ceases. He places one hand on my back, recognizing my fear. But even as the thunder’s sound fades away, I still cling to him like a child holds his favorite toy. Our eyes meet, and everything, even time itself, stands still. I can’t turn away from those powerful violet orbs of his, nor can he look away from me. All thoughts that have anything to do with Malik and Bakura disappear, only to be replaced with thoughts of the spirit sitting before me. My breathing picks up the pace, and the inevitable occurs just seconds later. Licking my dry lips to moisten them, I lean forward, placing a light kiss on his cheek. As I pull away, I change my position, fully straddling him. I’m not so sure why I feel as confident as I do, or why I’m even doing this. Something about him is just so tempting. . .so beautifully fragile, brilliant and perfect, I cannot deny it.
Marik looks as if he’s caught in a trance. He sits still, which makes me nervous. If this leads anywhere at all tonight, I get the sense that he isn’t going to be as dominant as one would think. And I can’t dominate anything! What if I screw up? What if he thinks this is just a joke and becomes furious? I wouldn’t be able to look at him the same again. And all of the progress we made tonight will be lost. I can’t just walk away from this when we’ve come this far.
And I still can’t explain my feelings for him. I never confirmed whether I did love him or not, but when I had punctured the wall he had built around himself, I discovered something more, I guess, even if I’m not sure what it is yet. I repeat our previous actions, but this time, I kiss his lips. He is unresponsive for a second or two, but he comes around soon enough. And I’ll be damned if I ever taste something as sweet as him for as long as I live. He’s sweet, with just a hint of spiciness. Parting my lips, I allow his tongue to slide into my mouth, taking its time to explore every inch of the area. Not long after, the kiss becomes a tad more violent. He bites my lower lip--hard--causing me to cry out in slight pain.
“I’m sorry!” he shrieks, pulling away.
‘So much for not dominating, Marik,’ I say to myself. “It’s okay.” As I lean forward again to continue, he struggles not to capitulate. “What’s wrong?”
“Ryou, I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you. We shouldn’t even be doing this. . .”
I nod, seeing the situation from his point of view. I slowly pull myself away from him, trying to avoid looking at his face at all costs. “I-I’ll be upstairs, then.” I wordlessly tackle the steps, my cheeks on fire. What did I do wrong? If I’m not mistaken, he said he was afraid of “hurting” me. What an idiot! Here I am, trying to get somewhere with him, and he rejects me?
As if I was struck unconscience, I fall onto the couch face-first in the living room, falling asleep soon after.
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A/N: Sorry, no lemon in this chapter, either! But if you keep up with the fic and REVIEW, there will be one in the next chapter. Thanks to those who are reading. Love ya!