Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Love Me if You Can ❯ Three ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Love Me if You Can

-Chapter Three-

Malik Ishtar wasn't one to panic. Normally he was a very calm, cool, and collected individual; however today wasn't a normal day, thanks to a certain white-haired friend of his. Instead of going through his usual Tuesday routine of work, shower, dinner at the Mutous, and returning home in order to fall asleep on the floor in front of his television set, Malik would now have to cancel dinner with his sister and brother-in-law so that he could go on a blind date with some woman he didn't even want to know.

`Stupid Bakura... always thinking he knows what's best for me.'

The Egyptian sighed and looked at his reflection in full-length mirror attached to the back of his bedroom door. He had just showered several minutes ago and was now trying to figure out what on earth he was supposed to wear. He had never been to the Café Cibo, so he had no idea what kind of clothes he should wear. Should he dress up, or dress down? Bakura had said casual attire would be fine, but Malik didn't want to look too casual. He also didn't want to looktoo formal, because then it would appear as if he wanted to impress the girl who he was going on the date with. And he did want to impress her, just not to the point where it looked as if he cared what she thought of him.

Confused with his own thoughts, Malik entered his closet and began pulling out different sets of shirts and pants. `Let's see... Purple shirt and black pants? No, too Battle City style.' He wrinkled his noise at the memories. Battle City was a card game competition that he and Bakura had entered back when they were in high school. Practically the whole city had entered the competition, and Malik and Bakura had made it to the finals - only to be brutally beaten by Mariku. He growled and threw the clothes back into his closet.

“Hmm... What else do I have?”

He pulled out a light pink shirt and held it up to his chest, looking at his reflection. Instantly he shook his head in a negative manner. He tossed the shirt aside and grabbed a black sweater that was made of a tight material. “That's manlier,” he decided. He placed the shirt on his bed and then ventured back into his closet to find a nice pair of pants to go with it.

After much internal debating, Malik finally chose a pair of loose-fitting khaki cargo pants. He changed hurriedly, also slipping on a pair of leather black boots, and then adorned himself with his traditional gold jewelry in order to complete his outfit. He sprayed on his favorite cologne and observed himself in the mirror once more.

`I look hot,' he thought, grinning. A look of horror suddenly replaced his look of triumph. `If I don't watch myself, I'll become as conceited as Bakura.'

Perturbed by the mere idea of turning out like his best friend, Malik tore his eyes off of his reflection and exited his room. Glancing at the clock on the wall as he passed his kitchen, he noticed that he had a half an hour until he had to meet with his mystery date - the supposed answer to all of his love life problems - so he figured that he'd better leave now if he didn't want to be late. He grabbed his set of keys from the counter and snagged a jacket out of the closet before exiting his home and locking the door behind him.

Malik hadn't even walked three steps across the front porch when suddenly his cell phone began vibrating in his side pocket. Grumbling, he took out the phone and flipped it open to reveal the familiar number of the caller. He sighed, having expected the call to come sooner.

“What do you want, Bakura?”

“Jeez, can't I even get a `hello' out of you anymore? I mean, the last time we spoke resulted in you punching me in the face... Can't you even ask how my jaw is doing? Don't you even care?”

Malik rolled his eyes, not in the mood for Bakura's joking. “No, I really don't care how your jaw is doing because, frankly, I think you deserved that punch. You should feel glad to know that I held back - I wanted to hurt you much more than I actually did. But back to my question; what do you want?”

Bakura huffed indignantly on the other end. “You're cruel, Malik Ishtar.” He paused for a moment and Malik could hear a female voice yelling at him to stop fooling around. “Okay, okay. Where are you, Malik? Please tell me you've left your house by now.”

“I was just about to leave until someone decided to call and delay me several minutes.”

Bakura made some mature spitting noises into the phone. “Don't blame your tardiness on me, Ishtar. If you weren't so lazy then you would already be at the restaurant.”

The Egyptian male sighed and began walking towards his motorcycle. On the other line his best friend was yakking away, blatantly accusing Malik for all the wrongs in the world. Malik was paying no attention to the words and after hopping on his bike he glared at the screen of the cell phone.

“Bakura, I'm hanging up on you,” he declared.

There was a loud gasp. “Malik Ishtar, don't you dare -”

Malik cut him off by closing the phone and stuffing it back into his pocket. Checking his watch he saw that it was already seven-thirty; he was officially late and, if this girl was as much of a stickler as his ex-girlfriend, he was also very screwed. He cursed Bakura and started the engine of the motorcycle, peeling quickly out of his driveway and speeding down the street.

OOOOOOOO

Anzu Mazaki glared down at the plate and the red candle that were set on the table before her. She glanced momentarily at the chair placed opposite of hers, which had been vacant since before her arrival, and then turned her cerulean eyes on the door of the elegantly decorated Café Cibo. Her eyes narrowed, daring someone to walk in the door. No one accepted the challenge; the doors of the restaurant remained closed, and the look on the brunette's face darkened.

She let out a soft growl under her breath, becoming more and more agitated with each second that ticked by. She checked her watch; it was fifty minutes after seven. He was twenty minutes late, and she was not happy about it.

`He stood me up,' she concluded. One of her hands balled into a tight fist at the thought. `He stood me up; I just know it. How dare he? After Ryou went through all this trouble to set us up on this stupid date... Who the heck does this man think he is, deciding to just not show up?'

After neatly folding her napkin, Anzu removed it from her lap and placed it over her dinner plate. She rose from the table, fully intent on leaving, and then noticed the door open from the corner of her eyes. She stood next to the small table, her ocean-blue eyes staring at a young man calculatingly as he entered the restaurant and stopped at the hostess' desk.

She swallowed, feeling a lump form in her throat. No way could he be her blind date. It was just not plausible. She had just met him yesterday by fluke. She thought that she would never see him again. And yet there he stood, taking directions from the hostess as to what table to sit at. The hostess let out a small giggle, and then pointed to the very table where Anzu sat.

Anzu immediately sat back down in her chair and turned her head away, trying to make it seem as if she had not been watching him. Straining her ears, she could faintly pick up the sound of his heavy footsteps as he neared the table.

“We meet again.”

The brunette turned her steely-blue gaze on him. “It appears so,” she said in a monotone voice.

Malik Ishtar offered a friendly smile and took a seat in the chair opposite of Anzu's. He unfolded the napkin which was placed on the plate before him and put it in his lap, and then allowed his lilac orbs to roam across the restaurant. “This place is nice,” he commented to himself, letting out a low whistle.

Anzu took a sip of her drink. She kept her eyes on him discretely, trying to figure out how Malik Ishtar could possibly be her blind date. It was too weird to be just a coincidence. Maybe if she had never met him before, but she had seen him two times in the last two days - first at the grocery store (yes, she had seen him and had chosen to ignore him and his odd friend) and then yesterday evening on her way home - and now this?

What, was he stalking her?

She wouldn't put it past him. He was a man, after all.

Malik's voice broke her train of thought.

“Did you order yet?”

Anzu's gaze shifted to the menu which sat innocently to the left of her plate. She shook her head negatively. “No,” she told him. “I thought it would be rude to order before my date arrived. I did get a drink, though,” she paused to motion to her glass of iced tea. “I hope that's okay.”

Malik shrugged his shoulders. “That's fine.”

He opened his menu and began scanning the different items listed. The brunette across from him busied herself with examining her fingernails. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, causing both adults to stay still and quiet. There were many thoughts bouncing around in Anzu's mind, all of which concerned the blonde-haired man before her, which caused her to take no notice of what he was doing. And as for Malik, he was absorbed in his menu.

A waitress came to take their entrée orders. She smiled at them both politely, and questioned: “What can I get you?”

Malik nodded at the waitress and closed his menu. “I'll have the vegetarian special,” he announced.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Anzu giving him an odd look, which caused him to raise a thin brow in query. She merely ignored the action and told the waitress that she would have the same thing. The waitress wrote the orders down and took their menus before disappearing into the kitchen.

Once she was out of earshot, Anzu turned her azure eyes on the Egyptian. “Are you stalking me?” she asked suddenly.

Malik, who had been taking a sip from his glass of water, nearly spit the drink back out into the cup. He coughed several times and then wiped his chin with the back of his hand. His lilac orbs swiveled over and locked on her narrowed azure eyes, and there was an incredulous look on his face. “What?” he sputtered.

“Are you stalking me?” she repeated nonchalantly. “It's a simple question, which should only derive a simple `yes' or `no' answer.”

“No! Why would I be stalking you?” Malik wanted to know.

Tearing her eyes away from his, Anzu crossed her legs under the table and purposely hit his shin with the sharp heel of her shoes. He made a small noise of protest and she smirked. “I don't know. I've been running into you constantly the past few days, and now here you're pretending to be a vegetarian so you can order the same meal as me? It just sounds like something a stalker would do.”

Malik appeared offended by these statements, and he proved his anger by slamming his fist down on the table. The silver wear and water glasses rattled in objection and several drops of Anzu's iced tea spilled onto the tablecloth. “I am not a stalker,” he said through clenched teeth.

The elderly couple sitting behind the pair exchanged looks, which only caused the Egyptian male to become more upset.

“Listen, I don't know what ideas about me you've got stuck in your head but, please, forget them. You're getting me all wrong,” Malik told her, trying to calm himself back down. He removed his hand from the table and placed it in his lap. “I didn't even set this date up. My idiot friends thought that setting me up on a date would solve my problems.”

“So you have problems? What are they, mental problems?” Anzu quipped, grinning. Oh, she was having so much fun. She rather enjoyed teasing Malik - the young man got offended so easily. Perhaps this date wouldn't end up so horrible, after all.

Malik bristled, his fingers curling into his palms. “No,” he grit out. “Though I think you might have some,” he added, noticing the large grin that was now on her face. “I thought you were angry?”

“Oh, I am. I'm just having so much fun teasing you that I can't help but smile,” she said to explain herself.

“Grand.”

The Egyptian male pushed his chair backwards, not caring how much noise the legs of the chair made as they scraped against the marble floor of the restaurant, and rose from his seat.

Anzu's eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed this. “Where do you think you're going?” she snapped, reaching out and taking tight hold of his hand.

“Leaving,” he said, fighting to free his hand from her surprisingly strong grip. “It was a huge mistake to come here... I don't know what possessed me to listen to Bakura.”

“You can't leave,” The brunette hissed. “You're paying tonight, so sit back down and stop complaining. Honestly, I've never met someone as humorless as you. I'm just joking, okay? Gosh, you're behaving like a teenaged girl. Stop getting so offended.” She released his hand and watched as he stood there with a somewhat bewildered expression on his tanned face. Folding her arms across her chest, she gazed at him expectantly and then commanded once more, this time in a much more stern voice, “sit.”

Malik did as told and slipped wordlessly into his chair, taking his napkin back as Anzu handed it to him. He glanced around Café Cibo uncomfortably, wondering what he should do now. Anzu most likely viewed him as a grouch and a wimp, so he had no idea how to get her to see what he was really like - not that he really wanted to, actually. After meeting her like this he concluded that she was an absolute nightmare and that he had no intention of developing a deeper relationship with someone so unbearable.

“It's no wonder she's still single,” he murmured under his breath.

That had to be the reason. Anzu was a cute girl - not super-model beautiful, just average with a sort of natural glow that made her appealing to others. She could easily get guys to fall for her based on her looks, that Malik was sure; heck, when he first saw her at the grocery store he had felt a sure attraction.

The problem lay solely in her mouth. It was, by all means, a pleasant mouth to look at - Anzu had nice, full lips that which were the color of peaches, and which curved gracefully when she spoke or, on rare occasions, smiled - but the second she opened that mouth to speak, it became less attractive.

Anzu didn't speak like normal single women, Malik discovered almost immediately. She was brash, not at all afraid to speak her mind. She was cruel, with a sharp tongue and a... odd sense of humor. She seemed to enjoy teasing others. All this Malik had learned in the last five minutes he had been in her presence, and he was completely blown away.

“What did you say?”

Malik's eyes widened as the brunette rose from her chair, her arms shaking slightly as she gripped the silky material of the tablecloth. He blanched and glanced up at her, expecting to see an enraged expression on her face. He ended up being surprised again, though; her eyes looked haunted, and were slowly filling with tears.

The Egyptian felt like smacking himself on the forehead. How could he have said that out loud? He was such an idiot. Sure, he didn't really care for Anzu so far, but to bring her to tears made him seem like such an asshole, and that really wasn't the impression he hoped to have on people when first meeting them.

“I-I, um...” Malik fumbled over his words, trying to say something to stop her silent whimpering. He reached across the table and grasped her hand lightly, hoping that the action would be regarded as comforting or apologetic. “I-I didn't mean -”

She wrenched her hand free of his and brought it up to her chest, clamping her fingers around the gray material of her shirt. “Shut up. I don't care what you have to say, you have no business to say it. You know nothing about me, about my life.” With her other hand she hurriedly wiped her face dry, accidentally smudging her mascara a tad in the process. She sniffled silently and sent the Egyptian the fiercest glare he had ever received in his life and then stooped down to retrieve her purse and other belongings from under the tables.

“I don't know why I ever agreed to this stupid date,” she muttered to herself.

Malik picked up on how choked her voice was even though she was trying her hardest to conceal the fact that she was still crying. He felt his heart drop considerably and he stood up from his chair, a truly sorrowful look on his face.

“Anzu... I honestly didn't mean...” His voice trailed off when he saw she wasn't listening.

Anzu wrapped her scarf around her neck and slung her purse over her shoulder. Casting one last, cold look at her date, she stalked past him and out the door.

Malik sighed loudly and placed a hand to his forehead, closing his eyes for a brief second and then opening them just in time to see the brunette walking briskly past the large windows of the elegant restaurant he was still standing in. His lavender eyes softened slightly as he watched her go, and then grew slightly as he realized something.

She had made it snow outside.

OOOOOOO

In apartment complex 305 the sound of a door slamming could be heard echoing down the corridors of the fifth floor as Anzu Mazaki entered her apartment, tears blurring her vision slightly. She dropped her purse right on the floor mat which she stood on before taking a small step forward.

Suddenly another wrack of sobs shook through her body, causing her to stumble back to the door and lean against it heavily. The tears came down more heavily this time, and she cried them out silently, allowing her body to slide down the frame of the door until she was kneeling on the floor.

She was chastising herself for her own stupidity. She knew that something like this would happen, it always did. No one understood her, and they always jumped to conclusions as to the reasons for her never dating before - she had been pinned as a lesbian, as a man-hater, as a woman strictly devoted to God, and as a woman just scared of commitment to another - all of which were very untrue.

Anzu had her own very private reasons for living life alone. And there was nothing, or no one, that could change that.

She sniffled and placed a hand to the collar of her shirt, slowly pulling it down. As the material slipped off of her skin and past her shoulders a large scar became visible, stretching from left shoulder to the exact spot where her heart laid beating underneath her skin.

At once a horrible memory of her childhood came flying to Anzu's memory, of when she was young and didn't have words to explain what had happened to her. She sniffled and covered her chest again, shivering and wrapping her arms around herself for comfort.

A single tear dropped from her cheeks and she made no effort to wipe it away. Her eyes hardened and she glared at the floor mat accusingly.

`You're no different, Malik Ishtar. You're no different than any other man... no different than him.”