Nothing Like A Kiss.
It's nothing like a kiss. They're seated in class, watching an old film flicker on a projector, and it's only by the sheerest chance that Ryuuji and Malik are seated next to each other, sitting just close enough for their elbows to touch. Not so much the sheerest chance though as the teacher's fault for assigning seating arrangements and putting Malik next to Ryuuji, who apparently hasn't noticed his invasion of Malik's personal space. Or simply doesn't care. Or has noticed, but has other, more sinister motives for it – or maybe that's just Malik's wishful thinking. Only their elbows are touching after all, he shouldn't read so much into it. He does anyway, simply because that's easier than pretending that he isn't thinking about what this could lead to.
Malik's glad that it's dark because that means Ryuuji can't see his blush.
Not that Ryuuji is looking anyway. He's more occupied with the fangirl on his other side who has her pretty head on his shoulders and keeps sighing every now and then, just to make sure that his attention is still on her. She's having far more contact with Ryuuji than Malik is, and Malik wonders how she can even concentrate on keeping up her pretence of shyness when so much of her is in contact with Ryuuji - just the slight touch of their elbows is enough to distract Malik irrevocably from the movie.
Malik never pays attention in class anyway.
He doesn't look over at Ryuuji, and he's sure the other isn't looking at him – why would he be after all? It's just their elbows that are touching. Nothing else. It's something perfectly ordinary, almost expected to happen when you have the desks so close together and one boy who sprawls over his desk like he not only owns it, but the school as well, and another boy who is refusing to let the other encroach on his space. It's a matter of principle after all; Ryuuji has his own desk, he has no need to lean his elbow onto Malik's. Malik is almost tempted to nudge Ryuuji's elbow off the desk, and watch the boy fall to the floor in a lovely tangle of long, lightly-tanned limbs and perfectly-styled dark hair. No. Malik isn't almost tempted, he is tempted… except that would require explaining why he overreacted to something so simple. And Malik knows quite well if simply having his elbow in such light contact with Ryuuji renders him dry-mouthed and sends strange, near-painful pangs through his stomach, there is very little chance that he would be able to explain away what amounts to a physical attack.
Malik isn't quite sure of the reasons himself.
Oh sure, Ryuuji's attractive, you'd have to be blind not to notice it (and deaf as well, thanks to the near-constant fangirl squealing about his style, wit, charisma and sheer stunning good looks) but really, plenty of people are attractive. Malik passes attractive people in the street everyday; he is one of them. Looks alone aren't enough, but really, he knows so little about Ryuuji except what he looks like. Well. That's not quite accurate really. Malik's noticed that Ryuuji tilts his head to a side childishly when confused, bites his lower lip when doing math, purrs with contentment when people (okay fine, fangirls) run their fingers through his hair… Hm. Perhaps Malik knows more about Ryuuji than he thought he did.
Still, that doesn't explain what Ryuuji's damn elbow is doing on his desk!
Giving up on waiting for Ryuuji to develop telepathic abilities, read his mind and discover that Malik wants Ryuuji to move his elbow, the blond instead turns his head to give Ryuuji one of his best glares. At least, that was the plan. On discovering that the gamer is not (as was formerly thought) engrossed in his task of being a fangirl-pillow due to said fangirl being asleep, and is instead watching Malik with an amused light in his green eyes, Malik ends up simply staring at him. Why is Ryuuji watching him! His lavender eyes meet and lock with the most vivid emerald, and Malik finds himself frozen like a guilty child, caught thieving from a cookie jar. For perhaps half a second at the most, then he snaps back to his usual self and manages to deliver a glare that suggested that if Ryuuji even mentions his momentary discomposure, Ryuuji will find himself sans tongue, and some fangirl will be made happy to have a real, 100 genuine Ryuuji body part! (Probably not the part that they wanted, but some people are never happy). Ryuuji simply smirks in return, and then turns his attention to the screen.
Malik tells himself that he's not disappointed that Ryuuji is no longer watching him.
Then he feels a slight pressure on his elbow. Ryuuji's elbow is now pushing gently against it. What. The Hell! Incredulously, he turns to glare at Ryuuji again, only to find Ryuuji apparently transfixed by the movie. The smirk on his lips, however, has widened, and Malik doesn't buy the innocent act for a second. Malik knows that Ryuuji knows that Malik knows that Ryuuji is deliberately exerting pressure where their elbows meet. Not a lot – not enough to even budge Malik's elbow in the slightest, but that's not the point. The point is: Ryuuji is doing that on purpose. Why! What possible reason could he have for doing something so sneaky, so conniving, so filled with the maximum frustration and performed with the minimum effort!
…were Malik not the target of it, he might appreciate the subtlety involved.
Nobody in the classroom except him is aware of Ryuuji's actions, but he is so aware of it that it's blocking out everything else. That small area of skin where their elbows touch feels like it has taken over his entire body and Malik finds himself frozen in place, unable to move his elbow away now even if he wanted to. And he doesn't want to. He wants to push back against Ryuuji in acknowledgment that he's noticed what the gamer is doing and will not let him get away with it so easily (but he will let Ryuuji get away with it, oh yes, just not that easily) and he wants to snap at the other in an agitated manner and demand to know what does Ryuuji think he's doing, and he wants to kiss the other until that smirk disappears but continue kissing anyway – and he wants that last one most of all.
Malik wonders when did that get added to his list of priorities.
Ryuuji shifting gets rid of that particular thought (Malik's glad not to have to try to pinpoint the last possible moment when he wouldn't have been disturbed by such slight physical contact with Ryuuji, he has a feeling he wouldn't be able to find it), and seconds later, the gamer spreads his legs wide, lounging back in his chair with an insolent grace. Dark locks of hair fall over his shoulders with such precision that they looked to have been placed with tweezers (Malik catches himself wanting to know what it would take to ruin Ryuuji's look, to make chaos out of order – and even then, wouldn't Ryuuji still be beautiful?), and his eyes are closed, Ryuuji having apparently fallen asleep. Apparently being the keyword, because the back of his right calf is now resting against Malik's shin. Either Ryuuji has mistaken Malik for a footrest, or this is part of his plan to drive Malik absolutely insane.
From the effort of not strangling Ryuuji of course, it has nothing to do with him wanting to jump the other and shake him until Malik gets an explanation, and then gets laid.
…and that last part was not thought by Malik. Not at all. His mind is filled with murder plots, and paranoid thoughts, and worries about who might be looking, and curiosity about what Ryuuji really looks like naked and – wait. Damn. Malik didn't think the last part either. Or so he told himself. Why would he? Ryuuji's straight. Ignore the high-heeled boots, the makeup, the feminine habit of flipping his hair, the tendency to pout and overwhelming narcissism – acting enough like a stereotypical girl that he could be one, hence interested in Malik and still straight. Shame that's not the case. It would certainly makes matters easier on Malik if it were. At least then he'd have an explanation for the uncomfortable, twisting feeling in his stomach, the ghostly sensation of his insides being eaten by acid.
Malik doesn't like feeling so wrong.
Knowing the reason behind it doesn't help at all. He tries to get himself to ignore the other's subtle encroachment on his space, telling himself that it's nothing compared to what he's been through. He's Malik Ishtar after all; former leader of GHOUL, almost-Pharaoh, defeater of his own dark side, former care-taker of the Sennen Rod, near-victor of Battle City, the last descendent in a long line of tomb-keepers… one overly-pretty boy is not a threat to him. Malik is not being made nervous by Ryuuji's physical promixity. Not at all. He could kill Ryuuji easily, if Ryuuji were a threat. He could. He could. A sideways flicker of violet eyes reveal that Ryuuji is looking at him again, a tiger-like gleam to his green eyes, and Malik suddenly finds himself thinking of forests and dark nights and a rustle in the leaves that catches your attention, but the strike hits your back. Misdirection seems the sort of art that Ryuuji would practice. No. Misdirection seems the sort of art that Ryuuji would have perfected.
His fingers are interlaced with Ryuuji's now, and Malik doesn't know when that happened.
For a moment, Malik considers trying to untangle them, but he can feel the other's gaze still on him, the smallest slit of green revealed underneath eyelids that would appear to be closed to the casual observer. Malik's too close now to be a casual observer though, and he knows that Ryuuji is watching him. Just as he knows that this is a test of some sort, and that he will not be given a second chance if he fails. Ryuuji's a gamer though, so perhaps this isn't a test but a challenge? Malik's not a gamer. Duel Monsters to him was nothing but a pathway to power. He might be more skilled at it than Ryuuji, but that would not make a difference in this game. If indeed it is a game; Malik feels more like it's a hunt, with himself as the prey. He's not naïve enough to wonder what Ryuuji wants him from him, he knows the answer to that question well enough. What he wonders instead is why him.
The lights come on and it's as if the last hour never happened.
Ryuuji's charming one of his fangirls again, weaving a subtle web of smiles and laughter and knowing looks around her. His body is angled towards her, his attention focused solely on her. Malik can see nothing of Ryuuji but the back of his school jacket, and a teasingly bouncing ponytail. The switch leaves him disorientated, and he gives into his spiteful streak, reaching out to give the high-postioned ponytail a hard, vicious tug. A startled yelp rewards his efforts and Malik soon finds himself ignoring the principal in favor of mentally glowering at Ryuuji's nerve in disconcerting him like that, then simply ignoring him. The resentment stays with him the whole day, then night falls and he hears a ring at his apartment door. When he opens it, Ryuuji's standing there, arms full of flowers and mouth full of pretty words. Malik doesn't accept either of them, but instead pulls Ryuuji into a kiss, confused and demanding a wordless explanation. The roses are crushed between them and their scent rises to fill the air. Malik was right before. The touch of their elbows was nothing like a kiss.
This is much, much better.
Author's Note: Dedicated to Yami White Rain as an Xmas gift.