The walk to Malik's apartment in the rain was already miserable. Pedals of dead, drenched flowers fell from Bakura's hands as he trudged through the storm, feeling weighed down by more than just the pounding rain.
It bounced back from his leather trenchcoat and soaked his clothes beneath it, rendering the coat useless as chills went down his spine and small breaths escaped his lips in the midnight cold.
He began to feel as if he couldn't breathe, and knew well enough that he was facing more than just his own ridicule as he went against himself and plucked the flowers, seeing them die bit by bit as the time wasted away with every heavy footstep.
The ground was so thick beneath his shoes. Bakura chuckled sarcastically at how he'd been reduced to a sniveling girl in just months in the palms of Malik's disgusting, perfect hands.
Bakura's eye twitched as he cringed at the thought, glaring at the sky as if to ask the Gods why they've condemned his life for so long.
The question only answered him with rain in his eyes. He blinked away the burn and opened his eyes wider just to feel alive. He wanted blind himself with anything but his own tears for the sake of his crushed ego, and if he could kill his soul by freezing to death, he certainly wanted to take the oppuratunity to do so.
This was precisely why he hated himself, all these idiotic suicide wishes made men weak. Bakura growled.
"I could have done better for myself than this."
Minutes passed and the storm left Domino behind as clouds began to part, showing a blue beam of moonlight upon the deserted sidewalks.
Staring at the moon, Malik's eyes caught Bakura's vision, and he couldn't move another step without feeling his heart revolt in need.
"I swear I'm becoming my own worst enemy...," he growled.
Something about the moon was exotic and beautiful, so tempting and unreachable, like a treasure that can never be kept or vengeance that could be sought but never gained.
Malik was the forbidden happiness Bakura knew he could never obtain because fate was never on his side to begin with.
Since conception, Bakura was designed to lose everything he cared for, and though he may have felt anguish for it in the past, in this new life, he felt pride and would not let his new armor be rusted in heart beats and kind words.
Malik was the one to break his steel with just small reminesces and scars, and Bakura saw the fire of Kul Elna through Malik's scars scabbed and bleeding on his back.
When he was told the story of the initiation, Bakura had scoffed and taken Malik for a weakling. In Kul Elna, such things were valued and considered a symbol of high castes, until Malik spoke of the fire and the blades used.
As a child, crying there on his stones and sheets, biting onto gags and being ripped away from any life his mother had promised him upon his birth and her death.
His father had always hated him anyways. Malik said so in touching his arms where the candle lit and on occasion, his ankles where the snake had bitten him.
Even Rishid was one to turn his back away, Malik said once, "He didn't think I saw him when he tried to kill me..."
Bakura shook his head. What he would give for even PEOPLE to acknowledge him enough for abuse, if not anything else. It was more of a relief than walking the sands of Cairo amongst the ashes.
Right now, these empty concrete streets of the city felt similar to Cairo.
The buildings were dark and there was nothing but rain to weigh him down as he continued his walk to Malik's apartment.
Ishizu had taken a job at the museum, interested in more imports than just the Egyptian exhibit, finding herself fascinated by Nordic mythology and Chinese historical features.
Not wanting to see Egypt once more, for his hope in having a new life, Malik chose to stay with his sister, instead taking a job as a mechanic.
He reflected on the magazine page of the motorcycle he found as a child.
Bakura felt his insides turn somewhat warm as he chuckled, wanting to call Malik's dreams and aspirations pathetic, but the words couldn't come to life, even mentally.
Malik had the chance to move on and start new after his father was murdered by Mariku, the emdbodiment of hatred created through the scars.
Malik had a chance to change and live another life, one with a family, friends and freedom.
He had his scars. Bakura had his memories... Somehow Bakura knew no matter how hard he tried he could never obtain what Malik found, at least not completely.
There was no family to know, no siblings to care for, no friends to acknowledge. Nothing.
There was diabound, corpses, and the filthy gold of the seven items.
Gold made from blood, the blood Bakura still longed to know personally.
He couldn't decipher tears from the rain at this point. His eyes stung.
Continuing his walk into the lobby, Bakura shivered, closing his eyes.
Just a few more steps. A few more and maybe he could finally have it...
A second chance... at living a life, family and friendship. A second chance with freedom and a second chance to step back from the war and breathe.
Malik had this effect on him. Maybe it's because he acknowledged him as an equal and not pestilance.
Malik was never intimidated by him nor did he fear him. Malik was attractive in his wisdom and his way of thinking, and Bakura admired it all as he looked to his hands.
The petals fell away and the stems were crushed within themselves.
They were still greener than most plants in Kul Elna...so he kept them, deeming them imperfect, but beautiful.
Pressing a few buttons, Bakura walked into a dim elevator as he took deep breaths. He was so close to knowing normality for just once, but the second the doors opened, he swore to himself that he would recite the words he practiced and speak them truthfully; as raw and honest as he could.
I love you...
He never said or even thought that before, never understanding what they meant or even knowing their worth. Often, men and women alike had spoken them in his rnge of hearing, and he often deemed them weak and idiotic. /those words never held weight before, nor did they convey meaning.
They were only a fool's dream, and unfortunately, Bakura himself began to believe them.
"I love you..."
The voice of a female cut through the silence.
Heart stopping, Bakura's eyes widened as he stared at Anzu, who was facing away, and ... Malik , who was smiling...had he seen Yugi, maybe he wouldn't have felt as crushed as he did in that moment, dying a third time in his life.
"I love you ..."
The words were like knives in his chest, and the blades grew as they twisted, and Bakura stepped back into the elevator, eyes still widened. No thoughts could be formed and no amount of descriptions could perfectly tell exactly what he felt.
He was in a mix between illness, hatred, self loathe, bitter disappointment, crushed pride and absolute sadness.
"I'm really lucky to have met you... you know? You're my guardian angel."
Angels... angels were never there for him anyways...
The elevator doors shut. The elevator found the lobby again and the silence cut through Bakura's nerves...
Ripping the ring from his neck, Bakura hissed as he tossed away his only link to another life, possessing this host, shaking his head until he fell to his knees, tears falling heavily under his hair. He didn't care anymore about his vengeance, nor did he even care about being trapped again in the hunk of metal with Necrophades, wanting only isolation and more than anything, death in this moment.
The scars they shared, Bakura felt burning alone in the back of his throat, biting back any noise he knew he would make. The pain they felt as children, Bakura knew in the sinking feeling in his stomach, still not able to breathe as chills went through his spine. The goosbumps stung against the wet cloth of his shirt, and he exhaled shaken breaths, fighting the urge to scream as his control slipped away and back to the ring.
Bakura felt no regrets.
His throat closed as Ryou took over, exhaling as he caught his breath, as if he emerged from drowning.
Standing up and examining his hands, Ryou became confused until he found his ring lying on the ground, and reached for it as he caught his breath, whistling under the frozen clothes he was wearing.
He couldn't hazard a guess as to what happened to him, but by the glow in the ring's eye and the buzz in the points of it, he curiously looked at it understanding immediately before wondering why he came to this lobby to begin with. He would have guessed that the ancient strands the ring was attatched to had broken, but Ryou had to take a step back after picking it up, placing his hand over his heart.
Something was terribly wrong, and he felt sympathy for the spirit as he gazed at the ring, holding the last of the overwhelming emotions before they slipped from him.
Anzu walked from the elevator with Yugi in her arms before calling to Ryou "You're here late."
Ryou laughed nervously, hiding his concern before saying "Oh...I just... walked in to admire the paintings."
A small lie never hurt anyone before, and the truth would do nothing for him if he tried to explain it to his friends.
They were convinced that Bakura was a terrible person, and though he had his moments, Ryou knew that even he had a human heart and feelings too. He wasn't a complete monster...
Anzu gave him an odd look as he turned around to see a generic landscape, swallowing his breath. The painting was nothing special and already, through Anzu's eyes, he was suspicious.
Malik interupted their conversations, saying "I have to thank you again, Yugi, for fixing my door frame. I still love you for that!"
Confused, Ryou switched his view to Yugi, who was clinging to Anzu's side protectively.
Yugi grinned, shaking his head. "It's nothing, really." before taking Anzu's hands. Yugi looked at Ryou and asked "have you been crying?"
Ryou became flustered and laughed nervously, shaking his head. "Oh..no, it was just the rain, I'm afraid. I seemed to have forgotten my umbrella back home."
Before turning away.
Nodding, Anzu bid farewell to both Malik and Ryou, bringing Yugi close to her side as he blushed and whispered kind words for only her to hear. Ryou watched them leave as Malik asked "so why are you here?"
The tone in his voice became serious and the look in his eyes became stern.
Malik saw that Ryou had tried to cover for Touzoku in the prescence of the others, and respected that in spite of the fact that Ryou had begun to annoy him in his silence.
Malik grew impatient and desperate for an explanation.
The ring grew warm in Ryou's hands as he looked at it through questioning eyes, still unsure what it meant and what he felt just seconds before opening his eyes to regained consciousness.
Whatever it was that the spirit had gone through, Ryou felt only a glimpse of it and tied the ring back around his neck, hoping that Malik's prescence could alter the pain.
He didn't like his body being used as only a device for Touzoku's existance as Bakura, but more than anything, Ryou disliked being selfish and not allowing Bakura to live at least once, a life with maybe a few memories he deserved.
He had heard the stories and felt the physical pain many times over each time Bakura taunted Atem and Yugi with his old wounds, and every time, Ryou found his original view of Touzoku altered into something of respect and understanding.
Some things only he knew about the spirit, and in a way, he felt as if they could be the same person in a sense. Of course, these things only came from his reflections with Amane and his mother, which by far, was nothing like losing an entire village.
Tonight would be the night Ryou forgave Bakura for anything he'd ever done against he and his friends, at the very least.
Tying the last knot, the ring began to glow, and Ryou gave Malik a friendly smile before blinking, lowering his head.
Bakura looked up to face Malik, and as the air conditioning cooled his soaked body, he bit his bottom lip, holding back a shiver.
Malik stared at him straight into his eyes, saying sternly "I saw you in the elevator."
Bakura nodded dismissively, growling under his breath "the only time you'll see me in that state."
Malik scoffed, crossing his arms, narrowing his eyes as he asked with ridicule, "In an elevator?"
"No." came the brisk reply.
They stood in silence as the moon shone through the glass double doors and the blue illuminated Malik as he turned around, chuckling to himself.
Bakura shook his head, glaring before walking towards the exit until a voice cut through his entire body.
"Where are you going?"
He stopped and looked ahead of himself, silently clenching his fists before saying a quiet, "home."
His voice was hoarse and almost a whisper.
Malik pressed the button for the elevator to return to the lobby as he smiled, staring at Bakura, saying quietly, "It was never that cold in Egypt. You must be freezing."
Bakura looked at Malik curiously, feeling close to a confused wreck of things, all covered in ice. Had Atem seen him in this state, he would have enraged and tried his luck with murder to regain his masculinity, but somehow being this way here, tonight, in front of only Malik, everything was acceptable.
This was unusual, but he couldn't care right now.
Malik smirked, stepping closer to Bakura as he repeated his words as though Bakura hadn't heard or registered anything he said before.
"You're cold... Ryou could get sick and you could fall back on your plans with him in poor condition," Malik said, hoping to persuade the spirit into following him, " You should really come with me back upstairs."
Holding the ring to his chest, Bakura thanked Ryou silently before the elevator doors opened, disrupting the silence around them both.
Ryou's sneakers soaked through the gray carpeting and droplets of rain water poured from them as Bakura hesitantly made his way to Malik's side, refusing to look him in the eyes lor even say a single word.
This was all very humiliating, and Malik understood that as they stood beside eachother, not wanting to offend Bakura as he slowly gave in.
It was rare that he saw the real Touzoku, who he truly was underneath his strong words and strategics.
Malik pressed the button for the third floor, leaning onto a rail casually, glancing at Bakura, who's arms were clinging to his stomach as if they could keep him warm.
The wight lifted them both as he said quietly "Be honest with me. Why are you here?"
No words were spoken and Bakura opened his hands, revealing twisted, dying flower stems, crushed in his fingers.
Malik reached to pick them up, but instead kept his hand over Bakura's, touching them in his palm as he laced their fingers together gently.
It was something of interest, how just minor things as holding hands could have such effects on human beings, given that it was with the right person.
Just the feeling of Malik's fingertips brushing against Bakura's made him forget why he had felt so emotionally drained before, and they were so warm... he wanted to cover his entire hand in Malik's touch, finding it comforting.
No one had ever touched his hand this way before. This was something Bakura wanted to remember as long as he could, closing his eyes to take in every detail and every second of every moment, because he knew soon enough, this too would be lost to him.
Immortality was cruel in that way.
The stems folded in their palms and the elevator stopped as Bakura said quietly "They were alive when I found them... But I killed them and the petals fell off in the rain..."
Malik had looked at Bakura's arm as his face heat up and he fought for his words as he asked quietly "Why did you keep the stems?"
The elevator doors opened and Malik stepped out, pulling Bakura close behind him as his shoes made sloshing sounds.
Malik exhaled under the vents.
"They're dead...and they're not perfect anymore... but I never had the chance to see green plants like this in Kul elna or Cairo. I found them here and kept them because I thought you hadn't either."
The fight to keep the smile from twisting Malik's face was difficult. Malik had tried to hide his grin, but couldn't as he shook his head, saying quietly, "thank you,".
Bakura smiled, and the stress lifted from his face for the first time in his entire existance, and for once it felt good to release the anger and resentment.
For once, even if this moment would pass by too quickly, nothing mattered except Malik, the warmth of his hands, and the crushed stems in their palms.
Bakura didn't want to question the ways of making this work and why it never could, but right now, he wanted to keep this moment. He wanted to stop time and relive anything Malik had to share with him, and he took a moment to inhale and close his eyes, feeling something foreign to him in his chest.
Warmth was like a disease, spreading through Bakura, creating this drunken effect, and where blurs used to be, were memories of Malik.
The sands of Egypt were never kind and the nights he spent alone were never easy, yet somehow the wait was worth it, just to be given this feeling he held inside him in this very moment.
He took a moment to embrace it and smiled again, laughing. Anything could be possible.