Sacrilege (n.)- the misuse or desecration of anything regarded as sacred or as worthy of extreme respect
The terms of their partnership weren't strict, per se, but it wasn't bad to assume any ties the two made with each other would be cut-off as soon as the goals of one or both of them were met. Nevertheless, accidents were bound to happen; certainly both of them ought to have known after getting this far...
It was only supposed to be a brief affair. Was affair even the word you would use for this sort of thing? Marik didn't know for sure. He was certain it had something to do with the minimal amount of people he spoke to throughout his life.
In any case, he knew at first he didn't mind the briefness of his partnership with the Spirit of the Millennium Ring-no, he had a name...it was Yami Bakura-and he knew there was a chance they wouldn't succeed at reaching either of their goals. That was a bit of a given considering how spontaneous his partner tended to be. He had to do most if not all of the planning, but he appreciated the other's enthusiasm, even if it made a mess.
But within the next few days, and with each conversation they had with each other, an abrupt realization struck Marik in the face one day, and as small as it was it changed the entirety of the way he saw this mission. He didn't want to part ways with Bakura when this was over.
The biggest problem was figuring out what to do with these new feelings. He had never felt this way about anyone before, and frankly, it scared him a little.
"Just tell him how you feel, I'm certain he'll understand," Rishid had told him. He was the only one who knew about this at first.
"But what if he doesn't understand?" Marik asked.
"If you can't tell him, then show him." Rishid stood up. "Master Marik, you mustn't let this overwhelm you. The sooner you can get your feelings out, regardless of the outcome, the better you'll feel."
Marik took those words to heart. As soon as he at least got those words out of his head he would feel better, the weight would be gone. He'd bring it up in his next meet-up with Bakura.
The next day came. It was cloudy and dim for a summer morning, and Marik wasn't used to the humidity. He snuck off to an alleyway, much like the one he drove through when he first came here about a week before. Bakura was already there; arms crossed over his chest and leaning back against the wall. With the way his eyes were closed and his head tilted slightly skyward, he seemed to be napping.
The illusion broke when his eyes flashed open and he turned his head slowly toward the other. "You're late," he growled.
"When did you start keeping track of the time?" Marik asked, unable to stop himself from grinning.
"Usually you're the one who has to wait for me to show up, not the other way around. I don't like it this way." Bakura eyed his companion as if looking for something out of the ordinary. Finally, he spoke up again, "You look different this morning."
Marik flushed a little. "I do?"
"Yes. You look like you're itching to tell me something."
He was...but now he didn't know if this was the right time to tell him. His chest felt hot like a fire was kindling in there. "Actually...there is something I'd like to talk to you about before we get on with it."
Bakura raised an eyebrow, adjusting his pose a little but keeping his arms firmly crossed. "Go on."
Panic rose in his throat in place of actual words. Time seemed to crawl in the few seconds before his response, and a small part of his brain was screaming at him to bail out before things got ugly. However, a larger part of his brain urged him onward.
"I've been thinking about...our previous arrangements," he began, "where you said we'd part ways as unlikely friends. I...don't think that'll be happening."
There was a scoff. Bakura had unfolded his arms and had placed his hands on his hips. "What do you mean by that? I thought it was made quite clear you couldn't help me find the remaining Items unless I helped you in turn, and so far that isn't working for either of us."
That's right; things weren't working out too well on their end.
Marik was running out of things to say, and he was certain that even the plainest way of saying how he felt would fall upon deaf ears.
"I don't care," he murmured, "I enjoy working with you even if everything's been going south lately. And I'm sure you've been enjoying it, too." He gave a forced laugh. "I mean, when was the last time you met somebody who didn't actually freak out in your presence?"
Bakura said nothing, standing still as a statue with a blank expression on his face.
Marik decided to continue, feeling a little braver with every word he said. "It's true this was only supposed to last until we achieved one or both of our goals, or by the looks of things when the Spirit of the Puzzle screws us both over. But as I've been spending more time talking to you, I've felt something I haven't felt before. It's something I want to be able to enjoy for a long time, and I'm scared it's going to go away when we finish our affairs here. Don't you know what it's like to be that scared? So scared you can't imagine your life going on beyond that moment where everything falls apart?!"
No response. Not even the bat of an eyelash. Even an argument against what he was saying would have been better than this!
Marik clenched his hands into fists, genuinely considering turning around and walking away, but he remembered Rishid's advice.
If you can't tell him, then show him.
He looked back up. Bakura was still standing close to the wall, and he still wasn't saying anything. Here goes everything...
He moved so fast he could barely process what he was doing, but within the next moment he had firmly pinned Bakura against the wall and was kissing him hard. Marik hadn't kissed anyone before, and the panic that had been building up inside of him up to this point was making him desperate. He just continued kissing, only parting briefly and a hair's length away from Bakura's mouth for one moment to catch his breath. Something still didn't feel quite right, though.
Suddenly he was knocked away with a snap ringing in his ears and his right cheek stinging as though it were on fire. He stumbled to the side and fell onto his rear, glancing up to see Bakura taking a defensive posture with his left arm out.
"It'd do you a great deal of good to slow down when you talk," he growled, wiping his mouth in a way that would suggest he had just ingested poison, "and you could at least give me a damn minute to process this gibberish you're spewing rather than pin me to the wall. Need I remind you that this isn't my corporeal body?"
Marik's lip curled. "That didn't stop you from nearly slicing off your whole arm. Why should that stop what I was doing? Compared to that this was completely harmless!"
Bakura stepped over Marik. Even the clouds seemed to get a bit darker and he could've sworn he felt a raindrop or two fall on him.
"You're damn lucky I don't have a weapon on me at the moment," Bakura snarled, "because I wouldn't have hesitated to slice open your throat instead of striking you across the face. If you would like our partnership to continue-and I'm quite certain you do given your soliloquy from a moment ago-I would strongly advise against doing that again. Are we clear?"
Marik couldn't say a word; his head was fogged and no logical sounds could form. He only nodded obediently.
Bakura smirked, and his teeth seemed to flash in the dim light. "Good. I was beginning to worry you had lost all of your common sense. Now, before we actually get to our original plans, I'd like to take a moment to recollect my dignity."
And with that, he walked out of the alleyway, leaving Marik alone with the static in his brain just as the heavens opened and rain poured upon them both.