Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Love Me if You Can ❯ Four ( Chapter 4 )

Love Me if You Can

 

Chapter Four

 

 

After the disastrous blind date of Malik and Anzu, it snowed nonstop for three whole days. The entirety of Domino City was plunged into a seemingly never-ending blizzard, and Malik couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible as he looked out his bedroom window on the fourth morning, expecting sunshine, only to be greeted with nothing other than the color white. Of course he knew that it was absolutely impossible for Anzu herself to create a snowstorm - he didn't believe in magic or anything childish like that - but he still blamed the bad weather on her poor conduct during their meeting.

 

And despite the fact that he only reflected on her very negatively, Malik was bothered to discover that he could not push Anzu from his thoughts. It was as if she cursed his mind, as well as the city. For three whole days - four now, as a new day had just begun - her face, tear-stained and flushed with anger, had permeated his mind, and he could not seem to get rid of the vision.

 

“She had it coming to her,” Malik said to Bakura, crossing his arms over his chest and seating himself down on the brown leather sofa of his living room. “I mean, she was a total bitch - spewing insults at me every chance she got to.”

 

Bakura, who had grown tired of hearing his best friend speak of nothing besides Anzu Mazaki (even though he was the one whose brilliant idea it had been to set them up in the first place,) allowed his head to loll backwards and his eyes to fall shut.

 

“What's the big deal? I spew insults at you whenever I get the chance,” he said in defense of Anzu. “You're just very easy to pick on, Ishtar.”

 

The blonde Egyptian fumed, glaring over at Bakura. “But you're my best friend. I've known you for years, so I hardly care if you say something about me. But her... You'd think she wouldn't act so rudely when meeting someone for the first time!”

 

“Technically,” Bakura interjected, “it was your second time meeting her, since you nearly ran her over with your stupid motorcycle on the night before your date.”

 

“...Whatever. My point is that people - normal people - don't behave that way in front of others.”

 

The white-haired man turned his attention to the clock on the wall; the ticking of the second hand seeming to fascinate him more than the discussion he was having with his best friend. He made no effort to respond to the remarks Malik continued to make, letting himself fall into a dreamlike state.

 

“Bakura..! Bakura, are you listening to me?”

 

Mumbling out a response, Bakura refused to fully awaken from his half-consciousness. He was forced to unclose his eyes and scowl at Malik, however, when he felt a pillow connect with the side of his face. Growling, he took hold of the pillow and chucked it back at his best friend with a much greater force than Malik had thrown it at him.

 

“Will you stop messing around? I'm being serious here!”

 

Bakura groaned. “I've heard you complain about Anzu for the past three days. I don't want to hear it anymore, Ishtar. So she insulted you and walked out on your date. Big deal. Stop crying over it. God, I'm so sick of hearing your complaining.”

 

Malik huffed indignantly, wrapping his arms loosely around the pillow that the white-haired man had threw back at him. “Sorry,” he apologized sarcastically. “If you're so annoyed with this discussion, then I'll change the subject.”

 

“Thank the Lord.”

 

The Egyptian male thought a moment, wondering what to bring up. His lips split into a wicked grin when something perfect came to mind, and he pinned Bakura with his sly, narrowed lilac orbs.

 

“So... how did your night with Ryou go?”

 

It took a moment for Malik's words to register in Bakura's mind, but when they did, the young man bolted into an upright position, his dark-chocolate eyes wide as they gazed back over at the blonde. “W-what are you talking about, Ishtar?” he demanded to know. “What night?”

 

Malik chuckled. “The night that I went on my blind date with Anzu, you and Ryou went out together, right?”

 

Bakura rolled his eyes, leaning back against the cushions of the sofa and attempting to look nonchalant. “Ha! Ryou only wishes. I would never go out alone with that little fruitcake.”

 

“Hmm... Well, that's odd, because he told me that the two of you spent a rather cozy evening in the backseat of your car that night - getting very friendly with one another.” Malik smirked, seeing the color drain from his best friend's face and taking that to be verification of Ryou speaking the truth. “Care to explain how that happened?”

 

Grumbling out an incoherent response, the white-haired man quickly averted his eyes to the ground where he stared in absolute wonder at his toes. “I, uh, was intoxicated,” he said to clarify that whatever he had done with Ryou he had not done in his right mind. “Very intoxicated.”

 

“So something did happen between you, then?”

 

Bakura swallowed the lump in his throat, his cheeks turning redder by the second, and tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. “We, uh, might have swapped some spit,” he admitted slowly. “But, like I said, I was so drunk... uh, I thought he was a woman.”

 

Malik doubled over in laughter, which caused Bakura to jump up from the couch and glower at him.

 

“It's not that hard a mistake to make! I mean, the guy's very feminine!” he defended himself in a shrill voice.

 

Trying hard to stifle his sniggering, the blonde Egyptian placed a hand over his mouth. “Sure, sure. I bet you thought he was Isis, right? Because the two look so similar.”

 

“Sh-shut up!” Bakura yelled, angry at how flustered he was getting over the situation. He wasn't one to get embarrassed easily - but, damn it, he wasn't gay! Or, at least he didn't think he wasn't. “Should I remind you that you scared away your own blind date?”

 

Malik frowned, reverting back to his earlier argument. “She had it coming to her!”

 

Although relieved that the conversation had steered away from his evening in the car with Ryou, Bakura was annoyed to find that they were back where they started. Groaning loudly, he fell back onto the couch he had stood from and grabbed the nearest cushion, placing it over his head.

 

Malik didn't seem to notice, as he had begun ranting once again.

 

OOOOOOO

 

Malik didn't know exactly how he arrived there - he vaguely remembered calling Ryou and asking for directions, but couldn't think of why. All he knew was that he was now standing outside of the grubby apartment complex in which Anzu Mazaki lived. Again, he couldn't understand his own reason for being there, but now that he was standing outside, gazing up at the building like an idiot, he decided it would be best if he went up to her house and personally apologized for his actions from the previous night - even though there was still a nagging side of him who believed he had done absolutely nothing worth apologizing for.

 

He still firmly believed that she had, in every way, deserved the insult he accidentally let slip past his lips, however he figured that telling her he didn't mean it would clear his conscience. And, who knows, if she was a forgiving person - which, from the brief time he had spent with her the previous night, he gathered that she wasn't - the deed would be done and over with quickly and he could return home to wallow in his own misfortune. If she wasn't, he would most likely still return home to wall in his own misfortune, but he would probably be a lot less sober and a lot angrier at the world.

 

When he decided that he had been standing outside in the cold for long enough, Malik gathered his courage and rang the buzzer. For several moments, his only answer was silence. Then a small laugh broke through the still air.

 

“Finally! I thought you'd have gotten here earlier,” Anzu's voice told him through the intercom.

 

Malik blinked, slightly puzzled at this response. Had Anzu been expecting him to come over and apologize?

 

“I'll let you up.”

 

A soft clicking noise proved her statement true, for a short time later he was allowed entrance into the apartment complex.

 

Malik headed straight for the elevator and, once inside, punched the correct floor number. The elevator hummed loudly, its gears turning to lift it up the shaft. It was probably the most nerve-wracking experience of his life - Malik could hear his own heart thudding rhythmically in his ears as he watched the numbered buttons above the metal doors light up a dull green color whenever they passed another level of the building.

 

After what seemed to be an eternity, the elevator slowed to a noisy stop and its doors automatically creaked open. Glad for his chance at freedom, the Egyptian exited into the hallway and then glanced at the directory that greeted him.

 

“Mazaki... Mazaki... Aha!”

 

Malik's thumb traveled from her surname to the number of her apartment.

 

`520'

 

It only took a few moments to find the correct door, seeing as there were only four to choose from. He stood before the door and gulped before tentatively raising a hand and knocking twice.

 

“Coming!”

 

Malik waited, tapping his foot on the tiled floor and picking imaginary lint off of his black sweatshirt. His lilac eyes turned to the door as he heard it open and he greeted Anzu with a nervous smile.

 

Whoever Anzu had been expecting to show up at her apartment, it definitely wasn't him - which Malik discovered as soon as the brunette's face contorted into an agitated scowl.

 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded to know.

 

Feeling incredibly unwelcome, Malik crossed his arms over his chest and met her glare evenly. “You let me up,” he reminded her.

 

“I didn't know it was you. If I had, I probably would have just called security,” she replied.

 

“Then who were you waiting for?”

 

“Someone more important than you.”

 

Malik couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face at the weak insult. “Ouch.”

 

Anzu huffed at his evident sarcasm and reverted back to her original question. “So why are you here?”

 

Sighing loudly, the Egyptian dropped his hands to his sides in defeat. “I... asked Ryou for directions to your apartment. I just wanted to come and apologize about the other night. That whole comment I made about why you were still single... it was uncalled for and I'm sorry for saying it.” Seeing her slightly shocked expression made him continue. “I really didn't mean it.”

 

After a few moments of silence, Anzu cleared her throat and turned her eyes to look at the ground. “Well, um... Thank you, Mr. Ishtar,” she said, speaking to him as if he were a sort of business client or something, “I suppose most people would say it was very considerate of you to come all the way down here to make an apology, and I'd have to agree with them somewhat. But,” she paused a moment and pinned him with her fiercest frown; it proved to be effective as he took a small step away from her. “That doesn't excuse the fact that you still said it. I don't like people who judge me before they know me, Mr. Ishtar. Do you know why that is?”

 

Malik opened his mouth to say something, but Anzu answered her own question before he even had the chance to.

 

“—because, to put it simply, people are idiots and they always hurriedly leap to conclusions about others instead of actually spending the time to get to know those around them. That's why.” She pointed a finger at him accusingly. “You, Mr. Ishtar, are first-hand proof of this idiocy. You didn't know the first thing about me and yet you jumped at the chance to make crude guesses about my love life - or lack thereof, as you so kindly reminded me.”

 

Malik's jaw dropped, his eyes resembling saucers as he stared in disbelief at the brunette young woman before him. He blinked several times, trying to find something to say that could prove her theory to be incorrect; he couldn't think of anything.

 

“Well?” Anzu demanded, tapping her foot impatiently against the tiled floor. “Aren't you going to say anything? Try to redeem yourself?”

 

“I have no idea what I can say...”

 

`...Other than you're a complete psycho.'

 

Malik thought over that for a moment, suddenly allowing a smile to spread across his face as he considered the irony. All his life he had befriended those that other people considered to be `weird' or `psychotic' - such as Bakura, for example - and he had always enjoyed their companionship (most of the time, at least.) Anzu, as well, seemed to have a few loose screws in her brain, and Malik didn't think he could handle her company for longer than a few minutes. But perhaps that could change. Maybe, if he actually did take the time to get to know her better, they could become friends. If Malik could befriend Bakura, and remain friends with him for over seven years, then he could get along with anyone - even Anzu Mazaki.

 

It was worth a try. Besides, it's not as if the Egyptian had much of a life these days.

 

Anzu seemed to be disturbed by the grin on his face, for her lips twitched downwards in confusion.

 

“I'm sorry,” Malik finally said, overcoming the silence that had fought its way between them. “I know there's nothing I can say that will erase what I said the other night at dinner, but please trust me when I tell you I didn't mean it. I was hoping that you would be able to forgive in forget so that we can start over. Strange as it sounds, I'd like a chance to get to know you better... maybe become friends.”

 

“Friends..?” Anzu repeated flatly, apparently not as enthused by the idea as the blonde before her was.

 

“Yes, friends. I'd like to be your friend.”

 

She seemed to contemplate this for a moment, raising a hand to her chin and tapping her fingers thoughtfully against her bottom lip. After what felt like forever, she opened her mouth to answer, her peach-colored lips curving to form the first syllable of her answer - which looked as if it were going to be a `no' - but no sound came out. Instead, she had closed her mouth again and opted for studying his face for a moment, searching his unique lavender eyes for some kind of sincerity that could dictate whether or not she wanted to change her response; she found it hidden well behind the lilac swirls.

 

“You're a strange one,” she said finally, quirking a smile herself, “so I'll think about it.”

 

Malik's face faulted somewhat at the response. From what he had learned in past relationships, `I'll think about it' almost certainly meant `not a chance'.

 

“Is that all?” Anzu asked. “Because I really am expecting someone.”

 

“Oh, uh... yeah, I guess that's all.”

 

“Good. You can escort yourself to the elevators, then.”

 

Malik nodded, but wouldn't leave until he had asked one more thing, since it had been bugging him since he first arrived. “Say, who are you waiting for?”

 

The brunette sighed, exasperatedly placing her head in the palm of her right hand and wondering if he would ever go away. “That's really none of your business, Mr. Ishtar,” she replied, keeping her voice calm.

 

The platinum-haired young man held up a hand in objection. “Please, call me Malik. We're friends now.”

 

“But we won't be for very long if you don't go away,” she countered, not able to fight back the smirk that her lips split into.

 

“Fine, fine, I'll leave. But... there is one last thing I wanted to tell you. I just remembered.”

 

Anzu looked at him expectantly, leaning against the doorframe and waiting for him to continue. Malik stalled, receiving the response he had been hoping for - she edged closer to him in subtle anticipation, her agitated façade remaining on her face.

 

“..Well, the first time I ever saw you was the other day at the grocery store, and I must admit... you looked exceptionally pretty standing next to that stand of English muffins in the dairy aisle.”

 

She gaped at him, dumbfounded. Of all the things she had been expecting to hear, that had definitely been one of her guesses. Narrowing her eyes slightly, she made a sharp gesture towards the elevators and snapped; “Get away from my apartment. And if you ever try wooing me again with stupid crap like that, I won't be your friend anymore!”

 

Malik burst out laughing at the threat she placed in her sentence. Anzu flushed in embarrassment herself when she realized how juvenile she sounded. She couldn't help but laugh at herself. The Egyptian noticed that her eyes sort of twinkled when she laughed, and that a small dimpled appeared on each of her cheeks when her lips stretched up into a real smile.

 

“What?” he said. “I was telling the truth!”

 

She chuckled, hardly sounding angry as she spoke next. “Just go away, will you? God, it takes you like twenty minutes to say goodbye.”

 

Grinning, he waved and turned, departing the apartment complex in a rather bright mood. Maybe he wouldn't have to go home and wallow in his own misfortune after all. Right now, things seemed to be looking up.

 

OOOOOOO

 

“So you don't hate her anymore?” Bakura mused, leaning back against the booth of the café he and his best friend sat in.

 

Malik shook his head. “No. I mean, she is a total bitch with the way she's all sarcastic all the time, but I guess she's pretty funny too.” He chuckled to himself, raising his coffee mug to his lips and taking a long sip.

 

Bakura merely raised a hand in the air, beckoning a waitress over. He caught the attention of a young purple-haired girl and she came scurrying over, ready with a pencil and paper in hand to take his order.

 

“We went to dinner again last night, sort of to make up for the whole blind date disaster. It was very casual, we just went as friends.”

 

“What?” the russet-eyed young man asked, eyes bugging slightly. “That's where you were last night?”

 

Malik gave his friend a strange look. “Yeah, why?”

 

Bakura glared. “Last night was only our month-annual guys' night out! No girlfriends - no Ryou - just the two of us and the hottest clubs, and hottest women, downtown. How could you have forgotten that? It's our tradition!”

 

The purple-haired waitress stared at the table uncomfortably. “Bakura” - she only knew the white-haired man by name because of her fellow employee, Ryou, who spoke of no one other than Bakura during his work hours - “are you going to order something or not?”

 

“No. Go away, little girl.” He shooed her impatiently with the same hand he had used to call her over.

 

Giving a huff of disdain, the girl marched back to her original position behind the counter, disgruntled over being summoned for nothing. “Jerk,” she mumbled under her breath.

 

Malik sighed, taking another sip of his drink. “I don't know, `Kura. It just slipped my mind. Why do you care so much, anyways? It's not that big of a deal.”

 

“Easy for you to say, Ishtar,” his friend interjected. “You didn't have to spend half your night at Ryou's crummy apartment playing chess and then having him drag you to go out and see Brokeback Mountain!”

 

The sandy-haired Egyptian blinked. “You actually agreed to see that?” he asked, sniggering at the idea.

 

“Of course not!” Bakura yelled, perturbed by the though, slamming his fist down on the table. The coffee that filled his mug sloshed agitatedly over the rim and into the saucer underneath. “He tricked me, that little English devil. Told me we were going to go watch V for Vendetta/”

 

“You didn't have to stay,” Malik pointed out.

 

“He probably would have start crying, or something girlish like that,” Bakura complained.

 

“Well, I'm very sorry you had to spend your night so miserably,” Malik said with hardly any detectable sincerity.

 

Bakura grumbled under his breath in a poor-sported way, shifting and kicking his feet up onto the table. Behind the main counter, the purple-haired employee glared sourly at him. The Egyptian across from the albino lifted an eyebrow in silent question.

 

“You know,” Malik began again thoughtfully, setting his mug on the table to the left of one of Bakura's obtrusive feet. His thoughts were still settled on the relationship between his best friend and the other white-haired boy. “You and Ryou have been spending an awful lot of time together lately.”

 

Bakura's form stiffened, as it typically did whenever his and the younger albino's `relationship' -if one could call it that - was mentioned. “Yeah... that a problem for you?”

 

Malik shook his head. “No, no, it's not a problem at all. I just find it a little funny, that's all.”

 

“How so..?”

 

“Well,” the blonde shrugged, “it's just that I've always been under the impression that you couldn't stand him.”

 

“I can't stand him!” Bakura affirmed in a much harsher tone than was necessary. “He's whiny, annoying, feminine... klutzy, brainless... useless... worthless...” his voice trailed off as he shook his head, before repeating, “I can't stand him.”

 

“He loves you, though,” Malik stated the obvious.

 

“And that's exactly why he's brainless!” Bakura yelled, recalling one of the names he had just accused Ryou of being. “I mean, do I look like a faggot?”

 

Malik rolled his eyes. “No, but you sound like a lunatic. Now shut up; you're only drawing attention to yourself.”

 

“I'm serious, Malik. Why the hell is he so obsessed with me? It's not like I've ever been exceptionally nice to him - I'm not nice to anyone except maybe you and Isis. What could I have possibly done to be cursed with his affections?”

 

“Cursed?”

 

Bakura nodded solemnly. “Of course it's a curse. The guy is obsessed with me. He practically stalks me everywhere I go, and always tries to make up excuses for us to go places together. It's annoying as piss.”

 

“I don't know, I think it's pretty funny.”

 

The white-haired young man growled. “Yeah? Well you know what I think?” He paused, waiting for a reaction. Malik leaned forward over the table expectantly. “I think that Mazaki chick has seriously fucked up your mind. Ever since you became friends - or whatever you two are -you've been acting totally different. And that isn't funny.”

 

Malik sighed, not arguing. He had changed, and he himself knew it. He was so much more... passive now than he used to be. Nothing really seemed to bother him lately.

 

The doors to the café swung open, revealing none other than the object of their current discussion - Ryou. The albino was donned in a pair of faded and stylishly distressed jeans and a navy polo. He pulled his work apron on over his head and covered the outfit to make sure it would stay clean while he worked. With a cheerful smile he greeted the purple-haired girl behind the counter, who waved in response. He made to join her, but stopped immediately upon spotting Bakura in one of the side booths.

 

“Baku-chan!” he cried excitedly, running over to the table.

 

Bakura groaned loudly, placing his feet back on the ground. He jumped as the younger male enveloped him in a tight hug and kissed him on the cheek while proclaiming how much he had missed him. Agitated, Bakura pushed the other away.

 

“Lay off, will you? Damn it, you're like a hyper little girl.”

 

Ryou immediately calmed down. “I'm sorry, Baku-chan-”

 

“-Don't call me that!”

 

“...It's just that I've missed you.”

 

Bakura glared daggers at the albino, whose shoulders slumped in a very depressed fashion. Angled russet eyes observed the smaller male, and softened slightly as Bakura raked a hand through his disheveled hair. “Whatever,” he said, in a far gentler voice than before. “You just saw me last night.”

 

Ryou perked up seeing as Bakura was no longer yelling at him. As he was about to say something, Malik stood up abruptly from the table and caught his attention. “Oh, Malik, I didn't know you were here too. It's nice to see you again,” he said politely, smiling.

 

Malik nodded his head in greeting. “Yes, well, I think I'll show myself out... let you two be alone for a bit.” He took out his wallet and placed several bills on the table for the purple-haired waitress. “See you guys later.”

 

Bakura flashed him a warning look, silently begging him not to leave. The Egyptian took no heed of the unspoken pleas, merely chuckling as his best friend cursed him loudly enough for half the café to overhear, and strode over to the doors. The tinkle of the doorbell chimed as he exited.

 

Ryou watched the blonde go before turning his focus back on Bakura. “You know, you really shouldn't keep it a secret anymore,” he said, tone serious for once.

 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

“It's even worse to lie to yourself.”

 

“Shut up! I don't need you lecturing me.”

 

“But you do need me for other things?”

 

The russet-eyed man blinked, closing his mouth before he could respond with a smart retort. Ryou had him there. Bakura honestly didn't say that he didn't need Ryou - he could tell that to Malik, or any of his other friends, but he couldn't lie to himself about that - but hell would freeze over before he ever admitted that to Ryou. Snorting immaturely, he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“Don't you have a job to do?”

 

Ryou smiled and nodded his head, wiggling his fingers in a very overenthusiastic wave goodbye before going to take his rightful position behind the counter. Bakura scoffed, watching the younger man's back, and then propped his feet back on the tabletop once more. He exhaled loudly, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

 

He couldn't help but wonder if he really had been lying to himself about his true feelings.

 

`No... I've been so involved with the whole finding Malik a new girlfriend business that I've let my own loneliness get the better of me. That's the only reason I've been hanging around with Ryou. The only reason.'

 

Bakura was satisfied with this reckoning.