"A little more to the left," the textured voice commanded.

I hate you.

"Too far! More to the right," it continued, along with an eager wave of the hand.

I hate you.

"Come to think of it, perhaps we should put it along the other wall."

"God, I hate you," I finally snapped. I took a step away from the couch I was moving and proceeded to kick it. "Can't you move your own goddamn furniture, Marik?"

"Oh, quit bitching, Bakura, you offered to help," he barked back, putting a fist on his hip and leaning into it. "You should have known I'd be picky."

"Is it because you're incredibly effeminate?" I muttered to myself, crossing my arms.

"What was that?"

"Oh, nothing."

We were in an apartment that Marik had rented for the next couple months. When I asked about it, he muttered something about 'Pharaoh this' and 'Pharaoh that', like I actually cared. All I cared about was the fact that I was finally back in Ryou's body. It wasn't fun hiding in that abyss of a puzzle for so long.

What I didn't care for, though, was the fact that I was stuck in here helping to move this prude's furniture. When I offered to help him settle in, I meant things like raiding his refrigerator and unpacking a cologne box. After all, once upon a time we were partners; I figured I could consider him some-what of a friend.

"Okay, help me move the cabinet to the far wall," he continued, pointing to where he wanted it to be. "Then we'll try the couch on this one."

I happily ignored Marik's babbling, throwing myself down on his imperfectly-placed couch. I wrapped my arms along the back of it and gave him an eager pout.

"Okay, fine," he whined, pushing up his bangs. I watched as his sweater pulled up with his arm, further exposing his dark abdomen. "We can rest for a bit, I guess." He dropped his arm and looked over his shoulder, through to the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

"No thanks," I responded, turning my head to examine my thumb nail. My vision was interrupted when the Egyptian landed beside me. He stretched his arms upwards and his sweater tugged up again. I ignored it and turned forward, watching the blank wall across from us. I felt his hair along my arm as he rested his head back. I gave him a murderous glare from the corner of my eye. If his eyes were open, I'd be strangling him right now out of pure frustration. But I knew it wasn't fair to attack a man while he was unguarded.

"So much to do," he muttered, his eyes closed, "I'm glad I have you to help."

I hate you.

"What kind of friend would I be if I let you do this on your own," I responded, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm brimming from the comment. I scoffed once and grinned, my eyes wandering to my knees.

"A shit one," he responded flatly, opening his eyes a bit. He looked over to me with a grin that matched mine. His grin faded into a thoughtful smile, and his head flopped to the side to face me. "In all seriousness, though, I do appreciate it."

My grin faded as well and rolled my eyes slightly. "Anytime."

I really, really hate you.

He closed his eyes again, lifting an arm and laying it across my torso. Was he really planning to sleep here? Why did he trust me not to stab him in the face? We were enemies now. I still wanted to do away with the Pharaoh, where as he was here to help him. If I eliminated Marik, then the Pharaoh wouldn't be able to unlock his power and I would easily prevail. So... Why did the thought of killing this blonde right here and now seem so... Out of the question?

"Bakura?" he muttered quietly, his eyes still closed. I could feel his breath growing slower, meaning his was falling asleep.

"Yes, Marik?"

"Are we against each other now?" There was a silence as his breath grew slower and slower. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath, letting it out in a short, disappointed sigh.

"Yes."

I assumed he was asleep then. There was no response, and his face was serene and innocent. Why was he even tired? I was the one doing all the work. Though, now that I was thinking about it, I was tired, too. I eyed the side of the couch as if it was there to mock me before taking Marik's shoulders in my hands and falling back, bringing him will me. His breath scattered a bit as his head shifted to lie across my chest. Once he was positioned, the breathing slowed once again. I bent the leg he wasn't scrawled across at the knee, looking up at the ceiling. This was a bad idea. Now I'm officially stuck here until he wakes up.

I hate you.

I allowed my eyes to fall closed. One arm was still wrapped around Marik's shoulders, the other resting across my forehead as if I was out in the sun. I did feel a bit warm in here. The ceiling fan was spinning slowly, creating the only noise in the room. I should be able to fall asleep easily, but the heat from Marik's body was overwhelming. I would have shoved him off, but it's bad luck to wake someone up when they're sleeping. I moved my arm from my forehead to my chest, attempting, with much difficulty, to slip a few of the buttons undone to allow some air to reach my skin. It was nice, and thankfully, Marik didn't wake from the sound or movement.

I tried sleeping again, but it was still too warm to be comfortable. Now the refrigerator was moaning, which made it even harder. What was I supposed to do? Marik could stay asleep for hours and I had to just lay under him? That hardly seemed fair.

"Bakura."

I looked down at Marik, but from what I could tell, he was still asleep. I didn't respond, but his muttering continued.

"Bakura, please don't," he cried quietly, his fingers tightening around the fabric of my shirt. "I don't want to be enemies."

We aren't, I wanted to say, but I knew that we were. I wasn't going to give up on getting rid of Yugi. That power is what I was here to steal. I'm a thief. It's what I do.

"We worked well together before, even if all we had was one common foe," he continued, his voice growing more and more desperate. "I hate candy canes. Can we hate candy canes together?"

I scoffed a bit, rolling my eyes. This guy was sure a piece of work. I tightened my grip around his shoulders and moved my free hand to cover his.

"Okay," I whispered, closing my eyes again. "We can hate candy canes together."

It was then that I finally began to fall asleep. My eye lids were growing heavy, and my grip loosened from him. My normal hateful expression began to subside and I started to feel peaceful before my entire vision went black.

I'm not sure what it was in my dream, but I could feel some sort of pressure on my chest loosen and a new, softer one stamp once on my cheek bone. I squeezed my eyes a bit, but when I managed to open them, Marik was gone. Upon further investigation, (by that I mean lifting my head and looking at his clock), a couple hours had passed. I pushed up on my elbows to look around. The front door was closed, but not locked, meaning Marik was still here. Somehow, though, my shirt was buttoned up.

I pouted at it a bit, trying to remember if I had done it or not. Then the voice I had grown used to returned, along with the zipping sound of two pant legs clashing. "Oh, so you're finally up?" He stepped up beside me, resting a hand on the couch's arm rest. "You've been asleep for at least two hours."

"You woke up two hours ago?" I asked him nervously. That mean he woke up right as I was falling asleep. Does that mean he heard what I was saying? Did he wake up with my hand under his?

"Oh, of course not," Marik started grinning a bit. His eyes shifted towards me. "I was never asleep to begin with."

All the color drained from my face and my eyes opened wider. I smacked my head into my hand, holding it spread across the lower half of my face. "God, I hate you."

"Maybe, but you hate candy canes more," he snickered, jumping away from my fist swinging at his torso. "Now get up, we have to move that cabinet."

"As if, Marik!" I snapped, pushing up to my feet. "If you think I'm going to help you after that, you're sorely mistaken!"

His grin melted to a smile and his eyes narrowed with sincerity. There wasn't a word said, but there was a mutual understanding. My frown loosened a bit, and I returned his smile, still a bit reluctant. "Okay, but you're helping this time." I stretched up a bit before walking over to the cabinet and wrapping my hands around the corners.

"Deal." He did the same on the other side. As we were pushing it, his head looked around the corner at me. "Oh, and I'm sorry for buttoning up your shirt. After I got up, you looked a bit chilly."

I rolled my eyes at him, not saying a word. Then, I didn't really understand what that meant. But thinking back to it now, I do know. I was over-heated because of him. Not only because of his body heat, but because he was the only person who could manage to make me feel warm, or meaningful, or nice. He was the only person who could see me as me, not as "the other Bakura." It was a nice change of pace, and it grew on me.

After Marik left back for Egypt, that warmth faded. My skin was back to being cold to the touch. Ryou was the only one who mustered up a single smile. And strangely enough, I barely even bothered coming out of the ring. I liked it better there. It was cold and dark like I was- The way I liked it.

All this only reinforced my loathing towards that childish Egyptian. The more I missed him, the more I hated him for interacting with me, for growing on me, for getting to know me. But, as much as I could think ill of him, I could never hate him like I did before.

I sat in my corner, my head staring up at the never-ending ceiling. I sat folded over my knees, my eyes stinging. I could hear everything Ryou did: The good mornings, the hellos, the invitations. The more I heard, the more it bothered me. I was really trapped here, wasn't I? I was trapped without so much as a candy-cane despising counterpart to keep my company.

I hate you, Marik. I really, really hate you.