Bakura stood frozen in shock.
He had just been told the most horrifying news anyone could ever be told in the waiting room of a hospital: "He never made it off the table."
"I'm sorry, but he was close to death before he even arrived here. The bullet went—"
The doctor stopped talking then, for Bakura, who couldn't bear to hear anymore, had just run outside into the once gorgeous starry night.
This night had started off as perfect as they come. Bakura and his boyfriend, Marik, were on their 6th official date, and everything was going absolutely perfect, well, as perfect as it could get for sadistic people like them. Marik, dressed in his usual lavender and khaki pants, was once again, talking to Bakura about his lack of fashion sense.
"But Bakurrrrrraaaaaaaaaa."
"No Marik! I will NOT wear that bloody thing!"
"Why notttttt?" Marik whined, "It'll look good on you!"
"Marik…it looks good on YOU. YOU can pull of the midriff look, I can't. I will stick to my own clothes, thanks."
This was always how their dates started out, at least when Marik chose where they were going first. They'd always end up at some clothing store, where Marik would try to persuade Bakura to buy a midriff shirt so like his own, and Bakura would refuse point-blank. Their usual argument would follow, and when Bakura won, they'd head off for a restaurant. The walks there were always the same. They'd hold hands, oblivious to the stares of passing strangers, lost in their own world. Marik would then say something oh so like him, Bakura would playfully smack him in the head, and they'd continue on.
This time it was different.
The shortest route from the store Marik picked to the exquisite restaurant Bakura pick took them through a rough neighborhood, full of occurring drug deals, and excessive violence. Bakura looked intimidating enough, his long white hair and pale skin glowing in the moonlight. But Marik, looking very effeminate, attracted many malicious stares from creepy onlookers standing in the darkness. They didn't even need to see the people there to know they were being watched. They could feel their eyes on them, watching them, waiting for the right moment. Bakura pulled on Mariks' had and began to walk slightly faster, hoping to get out of there FAST. They were almost to a busy street in the city, when a figure jumped out and blocked their way.
"Well helloo there." said the man, speaking to Marik directly, "You're a pretty boy, aren't you?"
"Back off." Bakura said with a menacing snarl.
The man held up his hands in mock fear, as many other men began to crowd around the two lovers.
"B-Bakura…"Marik stuttered in fear.
"Stay close."
"BAKURAAAA!"
Two of the men had suddenly grabbed Marik away from Bakura, while two others had grabbed the latter. Bakura managed to punch one in the face, and made to run towards Marik, when he heard a bang and looked over towards Marik. He stood there in shock for a second, and then he fell to the ground, moaning in agony. The two men that had held him were laughing, and Bakura broke. He knocked out the two holding him and sprinted to the nearest gas station, calling 911. When he and the police and ambulance arrived at the spot, the men had gone, and Marik lay there, alone, bleeding profusely from the wound in his chest. Bakura couldn't bear to look at him like that, so he turned away and went to tell the story to the police. Then he sat in that dreary, off-white waiting room, waiting, hoping. When he received that horrible news, and ran off into the night, he ran back into his apartment that he and Marik shared. But he couldn't make it into the building. He couldn't hold his sobs in any longer. Right at the door, he collapsed, and let his sobs take over his body.
The next morning, he woke up stiff.
Surprisingly, he hadn't been arrested, seeing as he was sleeping outside of a building. He sat up, feeling worse than he ever had before.
However, he didn't know why.
Why do I feel so terrible today? Bakura thought to himself.
He pulled his key from his pocket and made his way up to his apartment, thinking he could get a better sleep, and still wondering what happened.
I wonder if Marik has made breakfast.
He unlocked his apartment, and it all caught up with him.
Marik.
Bakura stood in the doorway and just stared at his apartment. Marks of Marik were everywhere. His multiple midriff shirts still on the couch from when he was deciding what to wear, the bowls in the sink from is excessive consumption of ice cream, it was all there. Bakura did not cry however. He made his way to his bedroom, to that special drawer in his dresser, and pulled out his knife collection.
Bakura then broke for the second time.
He threw knives at the wall in the bedroom, ran back out into the main room and threw more. He went around, smashing lamps, plates, and even the television, all with his bare hands. Bleeding, he worked his way toward his liquor cabinet, grabbed the 3 strongest he could find, and began to drink his sorrow away. After the second bottle, he couldn't see straight, he couldn't feel anymore. He collapsed for the second time, then blacked out.
He woke up 12 hours later, but stayed slumped on the ground.
He went through many memories in his head about his short time with Marik, and ended up in tears once more. He didn't have the strength or the will to get up and do anything.
I'll just die here…
He threw his head back against the wall and sobbed away his pain. Suddenly, an intense wave of that 'someone is here' feeling washed over him, and he stopped crying but did not open his eyes.
He then stood up, and started to make his way back to his bedroom, thinking that someone had heard about what happened and had come to check up on him. When he found that he couldn't even walk two feet without getting immensely dizzy, he fell again, facing a corner, and began to cry again.
But with him being in his dizzy spell, he didn't notice the shadow clad figure standing in front of the door.
The figure walked over to stand behind Bakura, who noticed nothing, until the figure had put a gentle, tanned hand on his shoulder. Bakura turned around slowly and stared at the beautiful, glowing figure in front of him. Then the figure spoke:
"Hello Bakura."
AN: First story I have written since my writers block. Constructive criticism would be GREATLY appreciated! -Bakura