It had come naturally. They had both sensed it was coming, so it wasn't much of a surprise the morning Marik woke up alone, Bakura's bag missing from the corner of their dingy hotel room. He sighed and stretched and went about his day; wandering the cold streets in search of a bite to eat, a cheaper hotel room. He was invisible, or tried to be. If Bakura wanted his space, that was the way it would be, at least until he wanted to be found again. It had happened before.
Winter turned to spring turned to summer turned to fall, then around again. Marik spent his time alone, curling up on park benches and staring at the sky, or reading whatever books or newspapers he could scrounge. Very rarely he'd strike up a conversation, never saying too much. Just listening, waiting….
The signs returned the following summer. Small petty thefts—an orange here, a shirt there. Marik's eyes turned streetward, scanning the crowds for just a glimpse of his partner.
The day was just getting hot when he found him, standing on a street corner. His eyes also scanned the crowd, searching until they locked on Marik's. He strode across the street, his face as impassive as ever. It stayed calm even as he saw Marik's smile turn into a scream, a gleaming silver car entering into his peripheral vision.
Marik's feet were in motion before his brain could process it, throwing him into the road as the driver stopped, horrified. Bakura was still breathing, however shakily. A gash on his forehead bled sluggishly as Marik wheeled on the driver, who was already busy dialing the ambulance. A thousand and one thoughts raced through Marik's mind as they loaded him onto a stretcher. There are calls he needs to make to Ryo's bank, to his sister…but all can wait. He clambered into the back of the ambulance with his lover, cradling his hand against his forehead, his voice a whisper as the paramedics close the doors. Just hang on…I love you…
Bakura awoke, remembering just why he hated hospitals. He hated the smell, the constant beep of the machines. His throat was dry, his voice cracking as he demanded water. From the seat beside him Marik looked up, his eyes red. For a second, they showed all of the sadness and worry that's been plaguing him for the last few hours. It was quickly replaced with an overwhelming rage, his fists clenching in his lap.
"You just had to be careless, didn't you," he growled. "You're just fucking lucky it didn't hit you harder." He lowered his voice. "Do you know just how much you've fucked us over? I didn't even get to enjoy this city, and now we'll never be able to come back! I don't want a repeat of Albania, having to hide out in the fucking woods for months."
He stormed out of the room, returning a few minutes with a glass of water. Bakura gulped it down desperately before tossing the cup aside, glaring down at the sheets. "I'll work on the escape route then," he said flatly, avoiding Marik's gaze.
"I think you'd better." Marik headed for the door. "I'm going for groceries, then to pack. I expect a plan by the time I get back."
"Will do." Marik strode out; though he wasn't quick enough to miss the quick 'Love you too,' that came from Bakura's lips. He turned and met his brown eyes, gave a curt nod, and disappeared.