Chapter 1

The man in front of him could be called many things, and truly many names could suit him, but to the boy on the floor, he was simply "dad." Marik Ishtar sat on the floor of his bedroom, in front of the man known as dad, and held his cheek, a bruise already forming on the tender, tear-stained skin. Mr. Ishtar glared down at him, bottle of whiskey held firmly between his fingers, making his knuckles white.

"If it's not what it looks like…" the words were slurred, coming from his dad's mouth, and he seemed to lose his train of thought half way through. "If it's not what it looked like then what the hell was it, Marik?"

"I was just…"

"You were just what?! You had that boy's dick in your mouth! Please tell me how it wasn't what it looked like!"

"Dad, please! I—"

"I'm not your father, not anymore. No son of mine is going to decide to be gay."

"Dad, it's not like that! I didn't decide—"

Mr. Ishtar swung at Marik once more, this time with a half empty bottle of whisky. Marik dodged and grabbed it.

"Stop!"

Mr. Ishtar jumped at Marik again and Marik instinctively swung, the bottle connecting square with his temple and exploding in a shower of glass shards and blood. Mr. Ishtar stumbled backward a few steps, back connecting with the stair railing.

Marik saw everything that happened next in slow motion. He watched as his dad fell over the railing, legs flying over his head in an almost comic manner as he fell two stories below. Marik heard a sickening crack and ran from his spot on the floor to peer over the edge.

"Dad…" Marik bolted down the stairs and ran to his side. His father wasn't moving, eyes fixed in a dead stare at the ceiling, arms and legs splayed at unnatural angles, head cracked in more than one location now, way more than the whisky bottle could've ever aspired to achieve. "Dad!" His neck was broken, and Marik knew in his heart that he was dead. He'd killed his father. He'd killed his father, but oddly enough, it felt as though there were no tears left to fall down his already tear streaked face. Only an hour ago, Mr. Ishtar had walked in on Marik with a mouth full of Duke Devlin. He'd come over to finish a project but within the first twenty minutes, it was pretty clear that wouldn't be happening. This was the first time, but Marik had known he was gay since seventh grade.

Marik ran back up the stairs and crossed the threshold to his room. He didn't have much time, so he found a small duffle bag and threw everything he could manage inside. His hands rested on one last item. It was a picture of his father, his sister Ishizu, and himself last Christmas. He put it back down.

He didn't have a family anymore, didn't need them.

Grabbing his bag, he ran across the hall to his father's room and found his wallet. Opening it, he found 20 dollars in cash. He knew his father had a secret stash under his bed, and since his father wouldn't need it anymore, it was Marik's. Marik took the additional $100 and pocketed it, along with the first 20 he'd found. Pulling on a coat, he ran outside. Ishizu would probably be home soon.

Marik didn't stop running, despite the burning in his lungs, until he reached the train station. Marik bought a ticket to as far away as he could afford, one way, and got on the train. He didn't know where he'd go, but he was going.

Hours later, Marik arrived in a small, quiet town. After getting off the train, he decided to try and walk until he found a place he could stay for the night. He hadn't thought this through carefully enough, and was terrified. He put on a tough face and continued on his way. Marik walked for an hour before he grew tired and needed to sit. Finding an abandoned alley far enough from the street, Marik sat down, back to the cold brick, and pulled his jacket around him tighter. Before he could stop himself, he'd drifted into a peaceful slumber.

When he awoke, he could feel someone's eyes on him. Instantly alert, Marik's eyes shot open and fixed upon the pale figure standing above him, white hair framing his face and sticking out at odd angles. His dark eyes were fixed on Marik and the stranger's lips pulled into a smirk.

"Excuse me, but I feel as though you're missing something," the stranger spoke in a thick British accent, holding a wad of crumpled bills up in his hand. It was the leftover money Marik had taken from his dad.

"Hey!"

The stranger with the white hair and intriguing smirk pocketed the bills and took a step closer to Marik.

"Can you explain to me why you're sleeping against the door to my apartment?"

"I'm not…" Marik looked and realized that he was in fact sleeping against a door. He'd fallen to the side in his sleep. Marik sat up slowly.

"Thank you, but that still doesn't tell me anything." The stranger looked to be about Marik's age, and in all honesty, Marik found him stunning.

"I…I just needed to sit down. I guess I must've fallen asleep on accident…"

"Why in the bloody hell did you choose to sit down in an alley way? Can't you find some place else? And if you're so bloody tired, why don't you just go home and sleep?"

Marik winced slightly, looking away. "I don't have one of those anymore."

"Oh?"

"I…I did something bad, so now I'm on the run…I guess."

"And why are you deciding it's safe to tell me about this? How do you know I won't call the cops because of the so called bad something that you did?" The stranger smirked.

"I'm not the one who stole money from a boy on the street," Marik returned the smirk.

"Touché. What's your name?"

"Marik."

"Bakura. You truly have nowhere you can stay?"

"Nowhere…I don't even really know what town I'm in."

"You can come inside and stay with me for a while…I guess."

"Thank you, Bakura," Marik said, attempting to stand. His right foot was asleep so he stumbled forward, landing on Bakura. Reflexively, Bakura caught him. Both laughed quietly, looking at each other.

"You walk about as naturally as an amputee," Bakura commented.

"Shut up, at least I don't look like a fluffy white kitty," Marik offered a joke back.

"Can you walk now?" Bakura asked, watching Marik kick his foot out repeatedly to try and regain feeling.

"Yes…I think so."

"Good, just get inside." Bakura shoved him off and toward the door of the apartment.