Title: What Doesn't Kill You...
Pairings: Ryou x Mariku, possible Bakura x Amane
Warnings: There is probably going to be rape, definitely stalking, and kidnapping for sure. There is also a HIGH probability of Bakura and Mariku punctuating every single word with the eff-bomb. Also, Mariku = Yami Marik. K? Also, genderbent Ryou because genderbent Ryou is adorable!
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. Kazuki Takahashi, however, does.
Mariku could not live without coffee. Which is why he stood in a long line in a friggin' Starbucks. Because Bakura was a bitch. And because Bakura drank the last bit of coffee for himself. And so Mariku hadn't even gotten a drop of coffee.
Mariku was naturally in a very bad mood.
The line was much too long for the impatient man's liking, as well. Some midget punk stood in front of him whilst whistling a cheerful tune. Mariku scowled at the punk and resisted the urge to whack him about the head, sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and waited.
Eventually, of course, he got to the front and ordered his damn coffee, then walked to the back of the shop to sit down and gulp the coffee down, and then get the hell out of there. He downed half of the drink in one gulp, then drank the rest somewhat normally, glancing up every now and then to look at the other costumers.
A black haired business man in a gray suit typing furiously on a shiny white laptop. A tired and harassed looking woman with two crying toddlers. The midget punk with crazy hair, twiddling his thumbs and eating a cookie. And – oh god.
He couldn't help staring at those two. Teenage girls, twins maybe, with hair as white as Bakura's and mocha brown eyes. He felt a bit guilty, as he stared at them, because he knew it was wrong for him, a twenty-something year old man to think these girls, no more than thirteen, were attractive. Then he got over that fairly quickly, and looked at them again.
Despite their identical features, they were obviously very different. One seemed much more demure, and the other seemed excitable. The two most obvious differences in the two was the clothing style – the quieter one wore a long sleeved shirt and jeans, while her sister wore a halter top and short-shorts – and the eyes. The livelier sister had big sparkling eyes, while her sister's seemed a bit calmer and looked more like she was daydreaming. But both of them seemed fragile and delicate and small.
They walked up to the counter – Mariku noted sourly that the line was nonexistent now – and ordered something. He watched them walk down to a table with their drinks and he watched them sit down. He watched them twenty minutes later, with his half-drunk coffee in hand, leave.
AN: Yay, first...chapter thing! More like a prologue. Oh well. I'd love it if you'd review, but it's not necessary!