Bakura was slumped against a rough brick wall, silent and almost unmoving, aside from the occasional twitch of a muscle, and his chest rising and falling with his breath. His low, quick breathing was tightly controlled, as he was trying his absolute hardest to /not/ make a sound, any indication of how much pain he was in.
It was difficult, to say the least.
He was sitting in a pool of his own blood, brought on by several rather nasty wounds, which were still gushing the stuff. He hadn't bothered to see how many he had. He just knew that it all /hurt/ like fuck. It had been so long since anyone had managed to do this much damage to him. Too long. He'd forgotten how sensitive this body was the that kind of thing. How easily it bled.
Marik was a little grateful when Bakura chose to go out, liking the /freedom/ in a way that he had when he was at home, able to turn on the lights, clean up a little, a lot, and sing at the top of his lungs without Bakura to tell him to shut up.
Though after a while, he was actually starting to be concerned. Though no he understood how Bakura felt all those times /he's/ been late. After a couple hours, Marik had just left the door open, staring outside as he curled up in a blanket on the floor facing it. It was odd, just how long he's been staying with Bakura, and how he was starting to be so /clingy/ it seemed, and that thought preoccupied him for a while.
It had been kind of.. refreshing, in a way; to have someone that actually almost matched him, in a fight. He would have beaten them, too, if they hadn't brought a friend in at the last minute. Said friend lay dead at the other end of the alley. That's probably why Bakura himself wasn't gone.. once he was dead, the original one had fled. He didn't even know why they had chosen him as a target. Was he really that easy-looking? Probably.
He set his jaw, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and calling Marik. As much as he hated to admit it, he /needed/ help. And Marik was the only one he trusted. Hopefully he would be able to keep his voice level.
When his phone rang, Marik immediately hopped out of the blankets, expecting it to be Bakura, though confused as to why he'd call him, instead of just coming on over.
Racing to the kitchen, Marik picked up the phone with his usual, "YYYELLO?" greeting.
"Can you come get me?" He asked, keeping his voice dead level. No emotion at all. It pleased him, a bit, that even when he was in so much pain, he could speak to Marik.. not normally, but not in a way that would alert him to his.. situation. He would know soon enough, but still.
He felt himself getting a little dizzy due to blood loss, and he could only hope he wouldn't pass out before he was done talking to Marik.. that would freak him out more than just seeing him. At least, thats what Bakuar thinks.
"I.. need a bit of help."
Marik raised a brow at first, the way Bakura just asked to be picked up... He didn't have his motorbike anymore, so how would he be of any use? Marik was just about to ask what he meant before Bakura continued, and his grip on the phone loosened, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
Bakura never needed help. He was tough and able to do things by himself, or at least too prideful to ask for it.
"Bakura, /what/ is going on? Where are YOU, WHAT?" He raised his voice, once again not intending to, but his eagerness for an answer made him do such.
Bakura had walked to where he was, as he usually did. He hadn't really felt like riding his bike, for once. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered to ask Marik.
"I'm near the park. Around where we first.. met.." He trailed of, cursing. "Just /get/ here. The keys to my bike should be on the counter. Hurry the fuck up, I don't have too much time."
He suppressed a groan, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. More of it. Not that it would make a difference.
"Much time for what? BAKURA, You're... " He was going to demand more information but at that point, his cell phone died, and he wouldn't be bothered to find the charger to call him back, so grumbled loudly in frustration, looking around for the keys, and ignoring his excitement for getting to ride the thing for the first time, in spite of the lovely sound it made as he rushed to start it up, and head off. Not able to find his coat, or anything for that matter, Marik simply took one of Bakura's black coats and rushed off, eager, worried, concerned.
Marik slowed down a bit, once he'd approached the area they met, moving around in circles, in between buildings and up alleys, until he found Bakura. and hopped off his bike immediately.
Normal thought processes stopped, and the feeling that he was imagining his worst nightmare overwhelmed him. Bakura was not only leaning, laying against a wall, in such a /pathetic/ stance, it didn't suit him at all, there was /blood/ and for once not /his/. Marik's eyes literally widened, standing there for a moment, not even sure what to think. He'd never thought about how important Bakura was to him until he saw this, and his normal persona dropped.
"FUCK, BAKURA, FUCK WHAT... ?" He shouted, kneeling down to him, and grasping his shoulders right along his neck, to look at him, not simply concern in his eyes, but absolute terror. What could be so big to... was it even possible for something like that to happen to /Bakura/, king of thieves and /Bakura/.
"Bakura, TALK, tell me... DAMNIT! HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!"
Bakura let out an involuntary moan of pain as he grabbed his shoulders, roughly shoving his hands off. Fuck, that hurt.. maybe his shoulder was out of place. Probably. /Something/ was broken, no doubt.
He felt so weak, sitting here like this. Causing Marik to /worry/ about him. Usually, he was the one worrying.. usually, he would scoff at the notion of Marik worrying about /him/. Bakura /never/ got hurt. Not physically, anyway. And here he was. He could die, because of a couple of people. Nobody even special.
This was ridiculous. "Just get me out of here. Anywhere but here." He met his eyes, trying to keep them blank, but he knew that they must be showing how much pain he was in. How could they not?
Marik wasn't even questioning, although he should be, as to why he wasn't acting like himself. He felt like Bakura was acting when /he/ hurt himself, frustrated and angry. Though at first it was all concern. Wanting to know /what/ happened, and wanting to /find/ some way of fixing it immediately.
Though now he felt himself overwhelmed with anger and ... well more anger. "HOW COULD YOU LET ... this happen!" He demanded, much unlike himself, holding his shoulders tighter, as he moaned in pain.
Though he needed to help BAKURA... get him better, so he would live, and this was what made him not completely lose it. Although Bakura was usually quite strong and able, he weighed practically nothing compared to most, so letting go of his shoulders and moving his arms around him to carry Bakura, Marik stood up, stern expression, mixed with both terror and anger, running through him.
"Shut up." Bakura growled, using his good arm to yank him down for a quick, but hard, kiss. "Everything is going to be fine, you moron." He would answer him once he wasn't dripping blood- although, it was stopping. He wouldn't die, but it sure hurt like fuck. He wanted to get home, or something; this was no good.
Bakura just wanted to be out of public, somewhere he could relax a bit and feel himself out properly, without the risk of the one who'd done it coming back with more friends. He couldn't take them, in this condition.
Marik looked to Bakura only briefly as he was brought down for a kiss, and kissed him back, making it /not/ brief, and continuing to do so, even after Bakura stopped, hard, rough and cold, and not usually his type of kiss. It was then that he looked to Bakura's eyes, when pulling away, that he realized what was happening.
Marik wasn't able to handle this, like Bakura had when /Marik/ was hurt, He wanted to repress this, and too concerned and terrified, not over the fact that he might and could have lost him, but also that Bakura was vulnerable and weak enough to let something like that happen. "Bakura.." He muttered out, frustrated to the point that he was unable to stick around, and help Bakura, mentally with this.
With that, still holding Bakura, Marik leaned over the wall of the building, pressing his forehead against the wall, and gripping tightly to Bakura in his arms. He was trying to let him know before, but then the angry side of him saying 'HE-DOESN'T-DESERVE-TO-KNOW' made him simply grunt, before the mind shattering pain took over, as always the first time this happens.
Marik tried to keep the groan of intense pain to a minimum but was rather fail in his attempt as it felt like his brain was literally erupting, something form underneath turning over, and heating him up. It though certainly his mind was useless, and being burnt to a crisp, but soon enough Marik overcame it.
Although his hair, and face remained in tact, the angered grin set on his expression widened quite dramatically, and his eyes sharpened, mind seeing things a different way.
Anger towards the one he was holding made him want to drop him at that point, but no matter which side of him was there, overwhelming /Love/ although perhaps a better phrase was extreme obsession, for this being, Bakura, still existed stronger than ever, and keeping him would be a necessity.
"Got a /date/ tonight?" the yami questioned with a thick darkened voice, no longer fearing for Bakura's life.
Bakura stared at him for a moment, wondering what had happened. This complete turnaround in attitude, and mood. Something had happened- and then it clicked in.
"Oh, /fuck/ you." He groaned, closing his eyes and going completely limp. Fucking /Yami/. How stupid of him to think that it would never come out. And, of course, this was his fault. Of /course/. Just like everything else that went wrong, this was all his stupid fault.
"I don't have the energy to deal with this right now." Bakura hissed. "How about /you/ run along and let Marik back out, hm?" He knew this was a completely pointless question. If this Yami was anything like the last one, he would /never/ listen to him, let alone comply to such a demand. Not that he had the energy to really /demand/ anything.
"... I /am/ Marik, so I see no problem," Marik explained, grasping Bakura tightly, and making no eye contact at the moment. It sort of made him prideful now, that it was /Bakura/ who was the weak one, and he was the one who got to call the shots. This was how it was meant to be.
Though he was angry, he chose to act in a prideful manner for the time being, stalking off towards the motorbike and then glancing down to Bakura with a sideways slight disgruntled expression, "Well you can hold on right?"
"Radammit. Give me back the other one," Bakura muttered irritably, feeling kind of.. helpless. At least he knew /Marik/ would never hurt him, but this Yami.. he just didn't know. He was /probably/ dangerous, although he hadn't done anything yet.
He tightened his grip on him, thinking that he might drop him, after that comment.
Marik rolled his eyes at the other, before nudging the motorbike with Bakura's body, albeit violently.
"Can you hold on? I'm taking you home," Marik explained reluctantly, grumbling as he did so. Looking to the wounds they didn't appear to be bleeding too profusely, ergo he had no trouble in being slow, rude or violent.
"Be really fucking careful with my bike." He growled, obliging and hanging on. Not because of any respect for this man, but because he knew full well that he would fall off otherwise.
"Tell me how you work," he asked impulsively. He was curious.
Marik realized what the question was, but chose to ignore it, something he was good at. Bakura would find out soon enough. Unlike who he /used/ to be, this side of Marik never hid anything, and made his intentions quite clear unless he was out to trick someone, but Bakura wasn't someone he'd like to manipulate.
Somehow, he managed to move Bakura onto his back as he climbed on the motorbike, having Bakura sit right behind him and making sure that he had a tight enough grip before setting off, not replying but merely chuckling to himself, though it probably couldn't be heard over the sound of even the surprisingly silent bike.
"Don't ignore me," Bakura muttered, feeling the familiar and comforting feel of his motorcycle running beneath him. He allowed his eyes to slip shut again, relying on his other senses to check for danger. He was too tired for this. Tired, and in pain, and /worried/. Worried for Marik. His normal Marik, not this one that was with him now.
He kind of worried that his Marik wouldn't come back.
"Looks like that hurt, /what/ did you do?" Marik finally questioned, after stopping at a red light a fair bit on the way back. The voice came deeper, more angry than ever though. Pissed beyond he was showing at the moment, that Bakura would let that happen. Sure he was a hypocrite, but every part of Marik as a whole was: having two sides that constantly conflicted with one another.
"None of your business." Bakura muttered curtly. He was trying his absolute hardest to stay conscious, but he could feel himself slipping away. It /scared/ him a bit.. if he'd been with /his/ Marik, it wouldn't have mattered. But this obviously /wasn't/ ordinary Marik. He was /angry/, beyond what he was showing... and Bakura knew what anger does to dangerous people.
"/Yes/,' The Yami snapped, before taking off again, muttering underneath his breath how, "It's more my business than anyone else's Being your /lover/ and all' He was pleased that Bakura was holding on at least, taking a chance that he would be able to last the next five minutes.
Though once he got to Bakura's house, stopping the motorbike, he grabbed Bakura once more violently to say the least and literally kicked the bike over, watching it hit the pavement, before stalking back into the house without a word.
"Though what /happened/ made me realize who my real persona is, " He began, tossing him on the couch and flicking the lights on (He was in desperate need to /control/ something over all the things he was unable to. Marik was taking advantage of this situation), "Fuck /you/... How many people did it take to do that to you? Are you weakening up on me?"
"You're in no bloody fucking way my /lover/"
Bakura merely let out a cry of dismay when the bike was hit over, wanting to struggle, but knowing better. He would be dropped. And, given his current position regarding injuries, that would be a terrible idea. "What the ... what is /wrong/ with you!"
And Marik would never do /that/ either. He loved that bike...
"I'm not /weak/."
"Nothing's wrong with me," The Yami replied casually, "The bike looks better with a few scratches. And /Bakura/, In a fit of rage and frustration you've put me through, the bike is /Mine/; I completely deserve it, and my weaker part wasn't up for the task of claiming it," He told him, throwing the cloak on the couch over Bakura, as if he were giving him a blanket or something.
"Oh but you are weak... right now at least. I cannot believe you'd let this happen to yourself? Moron...I love you, but /Moron/," Marik's violet eyes, now more visible in the light, were darkening as his 'power' and anger increased, glaring over to the one on the couch. Though when he said 'I love you' his eyes did nothing but prove that, even through the glare.
Ryou was able to hear what was going on, from inside of Bakura, like always, and just now this only made Ryou wonder if Marik was possessed. ~Run away...~ can his mental demand to Bakura. Though, that's what he would have done, he seemed to be forgetting about the fact their body was completely wounded.
Bakura wanted to curl up and /hide/. This was more bullshit than he cared to handle, at the moment. He never would have called Marik if he'd known that /this/ would happen. He would rather be in hospital.. Hell, he would rather still be in that alley. He would have rather recovered himself, and then snuck in later.. Marik would have been none the wiser.
Why hadn't he done that? He should have known he would freak out. He should have foreseen this... of course, he knew that it couldn't be helped. He still blamed himself.
He could only hope that he would have /his/ Marik back soon. "Fucking prick. You're not the one I fell in love with."
~I /can't/. Ryou- take over. /Please/.~ Bakura practically begged. He /couldn't/ deal with this right now... having this /thing/ instead of Marik, speaking with his body and looking at him with the same eyes.. it hurt, a bit. Because it /hurt/ to have Marik act like he didn't care.
~I don't know how to take over on command!~ Ryou wailed, concerned.
"You're not bleeding/Much/ right?" Marik's voice broke their mental conversing, speaking as if completely ignoring what Bakura was saying. Listening though, he wandered into the kitchen, turning, the light on there, insensitively and grabbing himself some sort of deli-meat from the fridge. Normally Marik stayed away from such foods. Meat, and the body couldn't take it, but in this state, he didn't let that stop him, as he began eating it, wandering back to Bakura.
"I am the /same/ Marik, but just what you never /saw/ of him, and face it, /YOU/ and you alone, /MADE/ me this way," The dark side blamed, though it was partially true, and a literal cackle came out.
"Shut the fuck up. It's- it's not my fault. It's /not/." Bakura vehemently denied, although.. he knew it was true. It was /his/ fault that the Yami had been created.. his fault he was here now. He shut his eyes, letting that sink in. Memories of that night flooded into his mind, and he growled, trying to will them to the back of his mind, to no avail. Ryou needed to see it about as much as he himself did.. that is to say, not at all.
There was so much blood. So much /pain/ in Mariks eyes. And it was all his fault. Guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. He'd caused Marik so much pain... in the emotional range, as well as the physical. One of the few things that really mattered to him.
And now, he could have lost it.
Desperately, he shut off his and Ryou's connection, not wanting him to see or feel any of the images in his head, or the crushing emotions he himself felt. He could still hear him, though..
"And by the look of your face... I say that is bull /crap/," He knew that Bakura was lying and grinning showed it, but he softened his expression, only then realizing he was probably going to get sick later from the meat, and rolled his eyes.
"Because of that... what you did to yourself, I'm not letting you leave. You or that brat who's body you /stole/," Marik grumbled.
Immediately Bakura replied, seemingly more affected by the Yami's presence now and emotional matters than over the severe physical pain he was dealing with, "Don't punish Ryou for this. He's done nothing. Do what you like to me, I deserve it, but at least let /him/ escape the blame." ...Ha. This was a fucking /joke/. Here he was, /Bakura/, asking his lovers dark side to spare someone he should hate.. but he /did/ care for Ryou, in his way. Not like he did for Marik. Far from it. In more of a.. brotherly way.
Pathetic. Absolutely fucking /pathetic/. To be reduced to this by /one/ person.
Bakura wanted to go back to being ice. He wanted to be unmoved by all this..
"Caring for Ryou? My, you've changed. Because you are /weak/... this is why I came out like this," The Yami rationalized, though it was sort of a lie, "You're becoming humane... Emotions. Sure I understand the love, but along with loving /me/ you've also loved more people even without realizing it," Came Marik's dark voice, sitting on the coffee table across from Bakura.
"Trust me, this is your comfort zone. Not /love/."
Bakura fell silent, keeping his eyes shut. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to know this. He didn't want any of it.
What was worst was that he still looked exactly like his Marik. He still had the same face, the same tan he would boast so much about. The only difference was the expression, the way his jaw set and the emotions behind his violet eyes. It could be Marik, telling him of what little worth he had. It could be the one he loved so much, telling him to abandon what he usually would encourage. Emotions.
He'd finally let himself feel... and now, he was paying the price. What an idiot he was.
"Silence... whatever. Get some rest, OK, /sweetheart/?" Marik ran a hand along Bakura's hair, as he lay there, and brought his lips down to meet Bakura's kissing with desire and love that was still there, before pulling away and getting up, looking down to the mess that was in front of him.
"I'm disappointed in you," Marik told Bakura honestly.
"I don't care," Bakura replied in monotone, resisting the urge to grab Marik, hold him. Coax back the old one. Get him back to the loud, obnoxious, annoying, /beautiful/ man he loved and hated all at once, wrapped up so tight it just made the love stronger. He hated what was happening. He hated that it was his fault. He hated how his emotions were all over the place, making him behave abnormally and betray him to this.. thing. To Ryou. It hurt and he /hated/ it.
~...Ryou. I didn't mean for this to happen...~
~Dont worry, Bakura,~ Ryou replied gently. ~I'm sure everything will be back to normal soon,~ came his last words before everything seemed to take a turn for the worse.