(A/N:) Just a little drabble I wrote in a couple minutes. Based on the song Pour Me Out by He is We. (I do a lot of fics based on songs...:T) This is just a one-shot, by the way.
It wasn't so bad. It had been a few months, maybe. He had lost track of time since then.
Light illuminated through the curtains, but they did not wake him. He was already awake, in fact. He had been so for the past few hours.
He had that dream again.
He sighed, running his finger through his own golden locks. Lavender orbs glanced at the red digits on his nightstand, stating it was only a little past eight.
God, it was so early...
Malik turned on his side, facing the window. He didn't feel like getting up again today. Making his best effort to get comfortable was useless, because no matter what, his bed just felt so empty and cold.
Malik licked his lips. They were a bit dry, but he could taste it there. Even though he never was there, he could taste it.
He was only an illusion in Malik's dreams now. A part of him wished that it was reality again and not just a dream. The white-haired thief was what he always wanted, but could never actually have.
I love you.
They were lies. Malik made himself believe them the first time the words escaped Bakura's lips. He knew he was lying, and he knew he was lying to himself.
His head was filled with nothing but lies.
Malik ignored the fact that Bakura barely paid attention to him during the day.
Malik ignored the fact that Bakura was the same cold, heartless person to him like he was to anyone else.
Malik ignored the fact that Bakura only showed interest in him when it was near nightfall.
Malik ignored the fact that he only heard those words he had been longing to hear all his life from Bakura just in bed.
He ignored it. He paid no attention. He lied to himself.
But Malik just couldn't stop. Bakura was literally what he had always wanted. Just to be loved and touched and wanted, to turn into a puddle of desire and need every time he was touched; no matter what the conditions-Malik wanted at least a taste of it, and Bakura gave him that. He didn't care at all that it was under false pretenses, and that Bakura was only using him. He just wanted what he had longed for, and Bakura was the first person he was able to share that with.
Perhaps Malik truly was in love with him. Perhaps that was an illusion as well. Either way, Malik wished it didn't end the way it did.
I'm tired of you. You've gotten boring.
Malik couldn't believe what he was hearing.
What do you mean, "what do I mean?" You know what I said.
Malik got desperate. He cried. He begged. He pleaded.
Don't do that. You're just embarrassing yourself.
Malik was silent then.
And Bakura left without another word.
It wasn't months that had passed by-only a few weeks. But it felt like months to Malik.
A part of Malik hated Bakura for making a fool out of him. A part of Malik hated Bakura for using him. A part of Malik hated Bakura for saying such words to him.
A part of Malik hated Bakura for making him realize the reality of their "relationship." Another part of Malik still loved Bakura.
Malik felt like he had been stepped on and pounded into the concrete by Bakura himself. Reality hurt him. But he couldn't change it.
He supposed it wasn't too bad, but he couldn't help but wonder if things would go back to before.
Malik reached over on his nightstand, grabbing his cellphone.
No New Messages
Malik stared at the screen blankly, then shut the phone and tossed it aside.
Maybe waiting would do some good.
(A/N:) Review? :)