With bloodshot, lilac eyes, the tanned Yami glowered and snarled at any other life form that approached him. Even as the police officers threw him in the cell, he had scratched squirmed and fough them the whole way, giving one officer a nasty black eye and the other numerous cuts on his face. Even behind bars, the aura around him set the other prisoners off as they all gathered together in one part of the cell as he sat in the other. All the while, he was staring down at his arm, noticing the needle marks and the scratched up skin and he sighed in irritation. Bakura would bitch at him all night for this, but it wasn't his fault. He just wanted to try something new. Besides, if Bakura could stay out all night drinking, then how come he couldn't stay out all night too?
He hissed as he touched his red marks and growled. He had to wait here for Bakura and he knew it wasn't going to be a friendly visit.
Bakura's mood was little different than Marik's. He was just much more quiet about it. He'd cut off multiple people trying to get to the police station, speeding and swerving with narrowed eyes. It was a wonder he didn't make to the police station with handcuffs, himself. He slammed the car door shut behind him as he stomped his way to the police station, curtly speaking to one of the officers and paying bail.
He was taken to the cell where Marik sat in a growling mess. In any other circumstance, he would have laughed at how the other cell mates seemed to avoid him like frightened children. But not tonight. His silhouette moved over Marik's form as he growled his words out, "Let's go."
Marik's tired eyes moved to look up at his lover as he just looked at him for a minute before he grunted in pain and moved to stand up, holding his throbbing head as he bit his lip, moving out of the barred cell and stepped in synche with Bakura, wincing mentally at the anger radiating off of him. He glared as an officer once again tried to touch him and shook him off, never stopping his growls until they were alone, outside in the cool air. He turned to look at Bakura and frowned a little, still seeing double from the last injection. He sighed. He really didn't know what to say. Thanks for bailing me out? I'm sorry? Ra knows he was terrible at the latter.
Bakura said nothing, gesturing to the car and curtly making his way to it, not bothering to wait to see if Marik was in the car before starting it. If the man was smart, he would be moving fast tonight. If not... Well, then he could just rot in this damned parking lot for all he cared. He'd done his duty. He didn't so much as look at the passenger's seat as he drove away from the police station and toward the road.
As Marik heard the car start, he swallowed and swiftly moved into the passanger seat and shut the door. Bakura didn't want to talk. At least, not yet, he theorized. He put his seat belt on and frowned, catching sight of his mangled and red skin before he pushed the images away and looked at Bakura for a moment before he turned back to look out over the road silently. The tense air in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife and Marik hated it. He just wanted Bakura to yell at him and get it over with. But...he hated it when Bakura yelled at him. It meant he did something wrong and he hated disapointing his lover more then anything.
Bakura didn't want to fight, either, but his anger was something he never could control. He glared at the road as he sped and swerved.
"You're fucking lucky it wasn't heroin. The detox alone will kill you. Or just put you in agonizing pain. Usually both." He clutched the wheel until his knuckles turned white, growling softly. How could Marik be so stupid. "I was going to put the money I had to use for bail toward an improvement for the house. Maybe a new bed or television or something."
That stung a little bit. Marik bit his lip. Bakura had wasted money on him instead of putting it away to buy something they both could have enjoyed. And they weren't swimming in cash either. He sighed and rubbed his irritated arm gently, keeping a good hold on the seat as Bakura swerved rather violently. It could have killed him? In time of course, he knew, but a slow death was worse then a quick one. His shoulders slumped. He could hear the disapointement in Bakura's voice and that cut him deeper then anything else he had said in his speech. "...I'm sorry..." he muttered.
He mentally scoffed. Like that would fix anything...
"Do you have any idea- Just getting off some of the drugs is enough to kill you! After /one/ time. Most of the population doesn't survive, given the potency of the addictive drug. You're fucking lucky, dumbass." Bakura snarled in frustration. "What the hell were you thinking. Hell, what if someone decided to take advantage of you while you were like this? The idea made him flush with anger.
Marik frowned at that. He knew the drugs were dangerous. But they gave him a rush. A really addicting rush. He sighed. Not that that made it right. But Bakura's anger was making him angry as well. What right did he have to yell at him when he would consume regular alcohol that would definetly put him in the same position. He glared once at him lover before he huffed and turned away, crossing his arms, with a small wince. "It would have been bad. I understand, mother."
Bakura didn't need a moment to swerve off the road and slam onto the breaks, knowing full well what that would do to the tanned Yami's head when he did so. He turned to glare at him, waiting for his slowed reaction.
Marik's eyes widened at the sudden stop and felt his body swerve forward, his nose hitting the dashboard. The slow reaction time from the drugs were to thank for that. He held his now bleeding nose with a small whine before he turned and growled angrily at Bakura. "What the fuck, Bakura? You almost broke me nose!" he protested as he felt his sore nose carefully.
Bakura snarled. "Don't you dare patronize me, asshole. You did something stupid and dangerous that I had to bail you out of. But don't worry, I don't have to." He stood and made his way around to the passenger door, yanking it open roughly. "You can get out and walk the rest of the way, if you like."
Marik couldn't help but flinch a little. Bakura was angry. Really really angry. It wasn't like he hadn't seen him this mad before, but it was usually directed at something else, other then him. He looked out at the dark, dirt road and then back at his lover and he actually felt some anxious tighten his chest. Was he serious? He shook his head silently, swallowing any words that could get him in any more trouble. "...'Kura, you wouldn't do that to me..." he said, keeping his voice as soft as he could.
"Don't try to manipulate me," he ground out. If there was one thing he hated, it was being used, and having things he cared about twisted for someone else's own gain. He stood there for a moment, contemplating his situation, considering everything as he looked at the mess that was his lover.
"But no, I wouldn't do that. You, you would be doing it to yourself." He slammed the door shut hard and stormed his way back to his seat, starting the car once again.
Marik flinched once again before he narrowed his eyes and looked back at Bakura. "Oh, so I can't manipulate you, but you can manipulate me? All those times you come home drunk, come in to bed and either don't say anything or fuck me into the matress because you got nothing better to do? Or when I have to pick you up from a bar and drive you home and clean you up and make sure you're okay and I don't even get a thank you?" he growled.
...Okay, so that last one had only happened once, but still!
Bakura snarled. "I haven't done that in ages, Marik. I corrected my problem."
The younger Yami huffed again before he crossed his arms, pointedly turning away. "Whatever. Just let me fucking walk. I'd rather be anywhere then with you right now." he muttered.
"..."
That had stung. He swallowed and once again began to turn onto the side of the road. "Fine. Go. Do whatever the hell you want. I'll be home." Or at the bar. Either or.
"Oh, anything I want? Whoop-dee-fucking-doo, thanks, thief~" he snorted. Waiting until the car stopped, he angrily stood up and out of the car and slammed the door behind him, just as hard as Bakura had. He stood back and crossed his eyes, glaring daggers at his lover.
Bakura rolled his eyes and started backing out once again, rolling up to Marik with the window down and holding out a wad of cash. "Here. I'm sure you can get a good fix with this," he said coldly.
Marik's chest stung a little but he just barked right back, "Nah, you keep it. You'll need alot for that booze tonight."
Bakura's eyes narrowed. "You're right. Don't bother coming home tonight, then. Go crash on your Hikari's couch, or something. I'll be out." He started to pull the money back in his pocket
"Oh, no problem there! I'm sure my hikari-pretty would just love to have me home. I'll have some better company tonight." he hissed out, eyes narrowed. He silently willed Bakura away. His anger was getting the best of him and he didn't want to say any more things he knew he would regret.
That had stung. Enough for Bakura to stop the engine and climb out. "What did you just say."
Marik growled. Damn it, Bakura... "I said, I'll. Have. Better. Company. Tonight." he snarled, keeping his arms crossed. "With my hikari-pretty. We'll have lots of fun tonight." he smirked darkly. He was going too far, he was going too far, he was going too far...
Bakura's eyes widened, complete and total hurt suddenly sparking in his eyes. "What do you mean by that."
"What the fuck do you think I mean, thief?" he snarled, already taking a few steps towards his Hikari's neighborhood. "You don't want me around? My Hikari certainly will." he growled, lilac eyes blazing. Gods just...make it all stop. He could already see the hurt in Bakura's eyes. Why was he pouring salt on his open wound?
"I..." Bakura swallowed, nodding shortly. "Alright, then." The pain suddenly swelling in his chest was like a knife stuck in his gut and wrenched upwards, somehow keeping itself from doing the dirty deed and cutting his entire heart, mercilessly.
Marik felt his anger cool down slightly as he saw the true pain in Bakura's eyes and he looked away, sighing angrily. He bit his lip before he looked up, frowning. He took a step towards his lover. "Bakura..." he started, not quite knowing how his lover would react.
Bakura's breath hitched as he backed away, his eyes reddening. Shit, he couldn't cry about this. This was a stupid thing to cry about. If Marik wanted to go with his Hikari, he could do so. What did it matter to him. He turned so Marik wouldn't see his pain, bringing his coat closer around him.
But Marik heard the hitch in his lover's breath and even in the haze of his mind, he knew what that meant. No...no...he hadn't made him cry, had he? He did. Fucking selfishness got in the way and he had made the other person closest to him cry. Marik frowned and took another step closer. "Bakura..." he tried again.
Bakura wiped his eyes, swallowing thickly. "Just go be with 'hikari-pretty,' Marik. He's better company," he turned the words back on his lover. "Because I'm not fucking good anymore, right."
Marik stopped at that and frowned, lowering his shameful gaze. "I never said you weren't good enough, 'Kura..." he said softly. He didn't know how to fix this. All of those hurtful things he had said, a simple "sorry" woulnd't heal them. He felt a little panicked. What was he going to do?
Bakura was of course digging up old wounds from the first fight. But the statement Marik had made then had hurt him. Bakura remembered the many times he had come home drunk and fucked Marik while he was half-asleep. It was the only way he had been able to sleep with his lover at all then, and it was finally told to him why. Even if Bakura didn't do that anymore, it still haunted him.
Marik took another step closer until he was standing in front of Bakura, trying to meet his eyes, his own somber and saddened now. As much as he was angry at his lover, the last thing he wanted was for him to cry. Bakura was strong, stronger then him. If he was crying about something he said, it had really deeply hurt him. "Bakura...?"
That was when Bakura suddenly whirled around and yanked Marik close, smashing their lips together in one of those special kisses, this time filled with his own emotions. Jealous, anger, deep hurt. Even fear, all poured out from his lips onto Marik's sluggish ones.
Marik had no time to react as he stumbled and hesitantly wrapped his arms around the smaller, trembling form. His chest began to sting as he felt all those emotions, his head already throbbing and dizzy from the drugs, these emotions were making it worse. But he didn't care. Right now, all that mattered was Bakura. He swallowed and kissed make softly, an apologetic and loving wave pushing into the kiss from his side.
Bakura made a whimpering sound, pulling back when he felt the apology start to hit. He didn't want to feel the knee-jerk apology. It came only from fear, not true feelings from Marik.
Now it was Marik's turn to look hurt, his lilac eyes filling with it as Bakura pulled back. He rejected it. He didn't want it. He swallowed back the deep pain he felt in his chest and lowered his head away from Bakura, mentally wincing at the whimper he produced. "...sorry..."
Bakura swiped at his tears on his pale face, not sure of what to do. He knew he was fucking up somewhere. He just stared down, shifting in his place. "I-I know I had no right to be angry, after what I've done."
"...You just care about me...not that I deserve it," he murmured softly, backing away from his lover just a bit, trying to ignore the urge to rush up and kiss his tears away. "I didn't mean anything I said...I'm...s-sorry. If you want, I can still go." he said softly, looking at his crying lover with still hurt eyes.
Bakura shook his head. No, he didn't want that at all. He stared down at his shoes, just shaking his head repeatedly. "Don't... Please."
Marik frowned at that, but remained where he was standing and nodded his head, suddenly feeing a little awkward. He didn't know what he could say to comfort him. He had rejected his apology. What else was there to do?
Bakura sighed and reached his hand out. "Come on, Marik. Let's just go home. Please?"
Marik looked down at the hand offered to him before he looked at his lover, still frowning softly. "Sure, Bakura," With that, he turned his back on him to walk back over to the car, opening the passenger door and sliding inside, holding his head with a painful moan.
Bakura stood for a moment at his rejection, his hand still out as Marik climbed in, finally sighing and dropping it. He made his way to the car, not looking at Marik, wincing as he listened to his pain, and starting the car toward home. He drove slowly now, eyes puffy and irritated.
Marik closed his eyes for the trip home, biting his lip to hold in his whimper at the pain. God, everything hut. Not that it was anyone's fault but his. He sighed and, after assuming Bakura wasn't watching, turned so he was facing towards the windown, two twin tears falling down his cheeks as he held his arm with the swelling marks. He just wanted to be home, now.
Bakura drove silently, that pain still throbbing in his chest. How could anyone put up with it? Why did he do this to himself? With a deep sigh, he shook his head and looked over at his love, catching the tears as they fell down his face. The knife only seemed to twist.
Falling into an uneasy comatose state through the drive up their street, Marik felt a few more tears run down his cheeks, but he did nothing to stop them. His head was pounding, his arm was burning with raw agony, and his knees were probably still bleeding from when he slipped on the pavement, not that he'd tell Bakura that. He wanted to die.
Bakura swallowed as he moved to the other side of the car, reaching in to pull his lover out, managing to cradle him in his arms, barely. He tried to nuzzle him in comfort as he grunted and strained to make it inside the house, making the way to the bedroom and depositing him on the bed. "Marik?" he asked softly, stroking the blonde hair.
Completely red, lilac eyes blinked open to meet Bakura's eyes as Marik whimpered in pain, leaning into Bakura's touch immediately. "I-I don't feel good..." he whispered, his unblemished arm moving to cover his stomach as his wet cheeks burned. He moved his legs up as he tried to curl up in a little ball.
Bakura cooed to him softly. "Ishtar, you need to spread yourself out and let your body try to detox. It's going through withdrawal." He crawled onto the bed and pulled Marik into his arms, wrapping his legs around his legs to keep them straight, nuzzling the tanned neck slowly.
Marik gave another soft whimper of protest as his body was traightened but he was far too weak and disoriented to put up much of a fight against his lover. As he could do was lean into his touches, his breathing labored as he sunk his fingers into the sheets and squeezed, painful ripples of agony tearing through his body. "I-it hurts..."
Bakura slowly undressed him, to give him more comfort. He slid the t-shirt off of him, then the pants next, careful to never let the tanned Yami leave his arms. He watched as the ripples made his strong and muscular body retract and shudder, quivering under his touch. Bakura swallowed his fear as he continued to hold him soothingly, kissing the neck in comfort and hopefully some distraction.
The deep, labored breathing seemed to get a little worse, but Marik relaxed a little as he felt Bakura's body press against his naked flesh, still trying to hold his torn up arm close as his battered body arched closer to his lover, wanting to be near his radiating warmth and comfort.
Bakura was growing more and more panicked as he listened to the ragged breaths, never ceasing his actions. He kept himself calm, barely, trying to stop his shivers of fear from rising up. He kissed the neck slowly. "It's alright, Marik. I'm not leaving you. Everything will be okay..."
Marik opened his eyes up once again. Swallowing thickly a small, pain-filled, half-smile curved on his face for a second as his good hands reached weakly for Bakura's. "...Love you...more than anything..." he whispered. For some reason, he though he was dying. Well, the pain was bad enough.
Bakura took the hand with his own trembling ones and squeezed tightly. "Marik, you're not dying, do you hear me? But you have to be strong. This is about stamina and will, you have to keep fighting while your body withdrawals from the drugs you took, alright?" He felt new tears form on his face as he nuzzled his lover furiously. This wasn't as bad as it could be for other drugs, but if Marik didn't keep his strength up...
"I... I love you, too. Please don't give up on me."
The younger Yami shook his head, slowly and weakly, but it was still there. "...'kay..." he managed to get out, frowning as he felt the hard tremors from Bakura's hands arund his own sweating ones and he looked over at him, blood-shot eyes now a little sad. Bakura was worried about him now. First he was angry, then pissed beyond belief, then hurt, then completely sad, and now worried? What else was Marik going to put him through?
"Won't give up on you..." he assured him in a soft tone. That was, until, a rather sharp pain sudden hit him in the stomach and he let out a loud cry, he body trying to curl up again.
"Marik!" Bakura hushed him softly, stroking the damp hair as it clung to his tanned face, glistening with sweat. "Please, relax." He stroked the toned stomach, cooing in his ear and keeping his nuzzles up, feeling the dampness from his own eyes sliding onto Marik's flesh. He clung to him close, his own clothes growing wet from his lovers sweat. "I-It's going to be alright."
Marik took a couple of deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to calm himself as that pain dulled into a soft throb, leaving him moaning in pain. Bakura's touches were quick to cancel out the small little sharp pains, making him swallow thickly. He felt Bakura's chilled tears on his shoulder and he looked up, reaching one hand to weakly touch Bakura's wet cheek, lilac eyes sad. He had done this. The asshole side of him had done this. At that though, tears of his own escaped his pain-filled eyes.
"...Sorry...I'm s-sorry..." he whispered out.
Bakura felt the tears flow out further as the trembling and weak hand touched his face, he reached and held it there, shutting his eyes. What if Marik couldn't handle this? No, he couldn't allow himself to consider that. He didn't know how he would go on...
"Shh... Please, Marik. J-just be still. It's going to be okay."
Being careful with his battered body, Marik scooted, slowly, so that he was closer, if that was possible, to Bakura's wonderful warmth. A purr started up in his throat. It was broken and weak, but it was still there. He felt his eyes start to droop as the torment on his body left him exhausted. But, was it safe for him to go to sleep? He didn't know. He swallowed back another whimper of pain and forced his eyes open, looking up at Bakura and stroking his cheek lightly, with the rest of the strength that he had.
He was worn out.
Bakura swallowed, leaning into the touch as he wept softly. "Rest, Marik. Please, just go to sleep." He continued to stroke the battered and shuddering stomach, sweat dripping off of it. "I-I'll watch over you."
Marik blinked his barely open eyes at him before he suddenly whined softly, his hand moving to grip onto Bakura's hand that was resting upon it. The grip was nothing, at all. But he was suddenly afraid. What if Bakura was still mad and left him? In the back of his mind, he knew that wasn't true. But the pain was playing with his mind and after another whimper of pain, he just closed his eyes. He couldn't do anything else.
Bakura was barely holding in the sobs that were threatening to give way. He couldn't let Marik see that. He squeezed the hand softly, watching his eyes shut, burying his face in the damp hair and taking deep breaths. "M-Marik..."
As Marik finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep, he was amazed at all of the different dreams that plauged his sleep. Some were happy enough, usually involving him and Bakura sitting around, enjoying each others company or fucking like bunnies. Even him dressed up in a cute little bee outfit and scaring the piss out of his lover. But, more of them weren't so care-free. Nightmares seeped into his subconcious. Nightmares of finding his lover leaving him, waking up and finding him dead at his feet, or even worse, waking up and not finding him there at all.
He screamed loudly in those dreams and he wasn't sure if anyone else could hear him. He screamed Bakura's name until his voice was hoarse and his throat was torn and bleeding. Were these really just dreams from the drugs? Were they his own fears? ...Or were they a message of things to come?
Bakura spent the entire night watching over him. Some of the night Marik seemed calm and relaxed in his arms. Once Marik even started giggling in his sleep, while another Marik began rubbing against him for seemingly no reason at all. But as the hours ticked by, Marik grew feverish, whimpers and cries coming from his mouth. Bakura tried to give him water as he stroked his hair gently, cooing gently to him. He tried with all his might to calm him, but by the end, he had nothing he could do but watch, and wait.
By the end of the long, torturous night, Marik finally opened his eyes. He braced himself for the pain that would rack his body, but found it wasn't there. He blinked his eyes open and found that they no longer felt puffy, or red. The only pain that was still there was the one in his arm and he frowned as he saw the infected wounds. But at the moment, he didn't care. That could be fixed easily. What mattered was a certain white-haired Yami that he had felt and heard comforting him throughout the whole night.
/His/ Bakura.