Marik the Musician

SUMMARY:
I'm just a simple musician trying to make a living in Paris. I hate Valentine's Day and anything romantic, yet I always have to play for people on that stupid day… oh yeah, and I have a stalker. Said stalker has hired me to play for him and his 'date' on Valentine's Day. I hate my life. (AU, Thiefshipping, OOC – romantic – Bakura, oneshot, useless fluff).

(A/N: I wrote most of this when I was very, very, very tired and sleep-deprived… also, please tell me if you find anything completely wrong with the story. I'm not from France, so I don't know anything about it. So please, if you know something to be false, TELL ME! Thank you.)

I am playing a violin for a happy, romantic couple having a candle-lit dinner at nighttime on the top of the Eiffel Tower in France a week before Valentine's Day. Apparently, they are going on a vacation on February 14, and thought that it would be romantic if they had an early Valentine's Day soirée before going on their might-as-well-be-a-honeymoon "vacation." Usually, I would be retching from all of the mushy-gushy romance, but everything tends to just disappear whenever I play music. That's my job you see, playing music for whoever will hire me. I even have an ad in the papers, "Marik's Music: where music comes from the heart and not from money." Nice slogan huh? That's my name by the way, Marik Ishtar. I started out as a small business, but grew so that I have a job almost every other day (almost). It's actually a pretty good business, especially around Valentine's Day. People think that someone playing music for them is romantic or something. Whatever.

I love playing music: guitar, piano, violin, accordion, drums (though people rarely ask for a drum player, apparently it's not romantic) and even singing sometimes. Even if I don't like the romance in the air (so strong it might as well be a thick fog) it doesn't matter to me when I play. Everything else just disappears as I get lost in the melody, in fact, sometimes the customers have to tap me on the shoulder and tell me it's time for me to leave. I start packing up and they pay me. I charge 216€ (1) by the hour so they don't have to ask, "How much do I owe you?" after I play for them, although the price doubles if I play more than one instrument. Some people say my prices are really cheap, but I don't need much, so I don't really care. I don't want a big, fancy house or even that much furniture. The only thing I really want that's fancy is purple clothing. I don't know why, but I love the color purple. Maybe it's because my eyes are purple… oh well, not important.

I just notice that the happy couple I'm playing for is standing before me. I finish the song and look up at them.

«You can go home now sir,» the girl says in French. A language that I was forced to learn when I decide to move here (hey, it's the city of romance; people would pay more here for a musician).

«Here is your money. Thank you for playing,» the man says as he hands me the French currency.

«No problem at all,» I tell the man as I take the money and tip my dark purple beret. Yes, I'm wearing a beret. I like them, they go so well with my light purple sleeveless hoodie. Not the "Frenchiest" of clothes, but I like them. They leave and I start to pack up my violin.

"Hello beautiful," I hear English words whisper in my ear with an obvious British accent in them.

I close my eyes and silently pray that it's not who I think it is. I turn around and come face to face with a white-haired smirking male. I jump back and glare at him, "Are you following me?" I ask back in English. (I used to live in America before I moved to France.).

"What if I said yes?" he asked walking towards me. I shoot death glares at him. This "lovely" stalker of mine is Bakura. I met him a few months back while I was playing for a couple who charged out the whole outside of a restaurant just to have some privacy (as well as me, but I don't count; I'm just a musician). He heard me playing and tried talking to me in horribly spoken French. I guess he never really got the hang of the language, but I could hear the British in his words so I told him that I speak English. He sighed in relief and said, "Good. That makes talking sooo much easier." Then he smirked and started… flirting with me. I quickly left because I'm not into relationships of any kind (though I have nothing against gay people, I'm actually bi, just not looking for anyone) and hoped to never see him again, but he just keeps popping up everywhere I go!

"If you said yes, I'd call the police," I tell him, "Leave me alone!"

"I try, I try so hard my dear, but I just can't stay away from you," he says dramatically, "you are like the shore on a beach, I try to sail away from you, but your enticing appeal keeps me coming back again and again,"

"Don't call me "my dear"!" I yell at him, glad that barely anyone is on the Tower at this time, and even there were people there they wouldn't understand what I was saying because it's English. Unless they knew English… but I tend to forget about them.

"I'm sorry my d – Marik, it rolls off the tongue you see."

"Whatever, just stop it and leave me alone!" I grab my violin case and start walking to the elevator lift. I would love to take the stairs, I like the feel of the wind in my hair, but it's a pain to carry my case with me, so I have to take the elevator.

"Allow me to help you with your instrument," Bakura insists as he takes the violin from me.

I glare, "I can carry it myself!"

"Wouldn't you rather take the stairs?" he asks knowingly, "I'll take your violin down for you on the elevator, and you can take the stairs, how about that?"

Great Scott, this guy really is my stalker! I just called him that because I didn't know what else to call him! What else does he know about me? Does he know where I live? I start panicking but Bakura just ignores it and takes advantage of my hesitation by getting on the elevator with my violin! I run towards the stairs and walk down them. I would run, but I don't want to be known as the man who tripped down the Eiffel Tower and broke every bone in his body.

I reach the ground before Bakura, so as soon as he comes out I take the case from him and walk away. To my greatest dismay - but not to my surprise – he follows me. "Believe it or not Marik," he starts out, "but I want to hire you for an evening."

I turn on my heels and stop on a dime, "What?" I ask disbelievingly, "Why?"

He smirks, "I have a date."

My eyes widen, and my mouth breaks out into a wide smile, "Does this mean you'll stop following me around? I won't see you everywhere I go anymore?"

He chuckles, deep and loud, "We shall see Marik, we shall see. The date is at my house on Valentine's Day. Will you take the job?"

My mouth opens, but I hesitate. Surprisingly, I didn't have any customers on that day this year. It's weird, usually it's all booked up. I usually count on that day to carry me through for a while… "How long?" I ask.

He smirks, probably thinking he has me, "The whole day."

I do a double take, "What?" I ask incredulously, "The whole day? You can't be serious!"

He shakes his head, "From ten in the morning till ten at night. I would like you to play all of your instruments, but you don't have to worry about transportation for them all, I have my own set of instruments."

I stare at him with wide eyes. He's insane, that must be it. That equals 5,189 €! (2) I bite my lip ponderingly. This is a really good deal… not only for the money but because I wouldn't have to worry about transportation for my instruments… but… I'd be going to my stalker's house. Not the best idea in the world. I open my mouth to decline, but he interrupts with, "You'll get paid whether or not you decide to come."

I stare at him like he just escaped a mental institution, "Are you insane? You'll pay me even if I don't show up?"

Bakura shrugged, "I don't really need the money, but you do don't you?"

I grind my teeth, "I don't need the money, but it would be nice to have…"

"Exactly," he says, "So, if you do decide to come, be there by four in the evening at the least and no later than six, okay?"

I glare, "If you're charging me for the whole day, then why tell me to show up at four?"

"Just to give you more of an incentive to come."

I chew the inside of my lip in concentration. "I'll keep it in mind… but don't count on me showing up."

"Of course, of course, here's my address," he says as he takes out a folded piece of paper and hands it to me. He smiles, "It would be wonderful if you showed up though," he says seductively as he brushes his fingertips lightly down my arm. I jerk away, but I still feel my cheeks start to heat up. Damn it.

"Don't do that!" I say as I take the paper out of his paws and fast-walk away. Even though I don't look back, I can see him smirking in my mind. "He'll show up," he's probably thinking. I grind my teeth in anger.

It's Valentine's Day already, where did the time go? I played for three other couples in the meantime, all three times seeing Bakura. "Don't forget about Valentine's Day!" he said in all three situations after tormenting and flirting with me. What is with this guy? Why doesn't he leave me alone! Can't he see I'm not interested at all? Ugh, honestly, he might have a chance if he wasn't so pushy. I mean, he was good-looking, I'll give him that, but he just didn't know when to quit! And he keeps touching my arms and my chest and making those stupid innuendos! It's so annoying, it's like he enjoys bugging the hell out of me. Hell, for all I know, he does!

Anyway, I'm sitting in my small apartment – and when I say small, I mean small everything: small bedroom, small closet, small kitchen, small sitting room, small bathroom, and small hallway. There's not much furniture, just a few chairs, a small royal blue couch, a twin-sized bed and a small, wooden bedside table. I'm reading a book in French so that I don't get out of practice. I don't really care that my house is small, it makes it seem less empty and more cozy. I don't even think I could handle living in a big house, there'd probably be an echo with the miniscule amount of furniture I have…

It's around one o'clock, and I'm thinking… maybe I should show up… to Bakura's house I mean. I know I'll get paid either way, so I'm not thinking of that at all, but… it wouldn't feel right to just take money for not doing anything, isn't that charity? I'm not a charity case! Besides, if he has a date, then he wouldn't pay attention to me at all, and then it's just me and the music. Hmm… but… what if he doesn't have a date and he's just tricking me to come up so he can kidnap me or something? Do stalkers do that type of thing? Oh gosh… that would suck, what would he even do with me if he kidnapped me? …

… I don't want to think like that again… Yeah… I'm definitely not going now.

But… if he was planning on paying me, why would he kidnap me? Unless that's a lie too… but if he did want to kidnap me, then wouldn't he have done so already? I'm fairly certain he knows where I live, so wouldn't he already have done that if he wanted to?

Ugh! All these questions are driving me crazy! Maybe this was his plan, make me question myself too much. Maybe he doesn't even care if I show up or not… Maybe -

My thoughts are interrupted as I hear the doorbell ring. I get up to walk to the front of the building (I don't like buzzing people in, it seems rude to me somehow), but when I get there, no one is sitting there. The only thing in sight is a shiny, purple box with the words, "To Marik" on the front in a darker purple. I pick it up and open it. Inside is… what the heck? It's Euros! Tons of Euros! Who the hell sent me –

Oh, that would explain it. I just found a little card that says "From Bakura" on it. I open the card and inside it says, "I decided to pay you early." That's it. No explanation of why he decided to do that, just that he's paying me.

… Does he know I'm wondering if he's going to kidnap me? Can he read my mind? Has he been spying on me? But… he has a date! Doesn't that mean that he's over me? Then why the hell is he still doing crap like this! I spin on my heels and fast-walk back to my room, slamming the door behind me. This guy is so frustrating! Does he enjoy confusing the hell out of people? What does he expect of me?

I put my hands up to my head and pull on my hair, hoping the pain will cause me to stop thinking. Okay, start my thoughts over. He already paid me, I really don't have a reason to show up now… except that it would be the gentlemanly thing to do… Aw hell, maybe that's his plan? Guilt me into coming? He seems like the type to do that… Hnnnnn, what the hell should I do? Maybe I should just show up, if he does try to kidnap me, I'll break the window and run for it. If he doesn't… I get to do something I love till ten o'clock: play music. After all, it couldn't be that bad if I show up, could it? Could it? Ugh, stupid indecisive-ness…

It's ten minutes to five, and I'm walking towards Bakura's house. I decided to go because it doesn't feel right to just take money like that, and I'm kind of curious to see what his house looks like… I mean, if he has enough money to waste 1,744€ on, then he must be rich or something…

Damn it, why is this address so hard to find? I should just go back home, I already have the money and I at least tried to show up.

Crap, I just found the address… WOAH! This house is huge! It's like a mansion or something! What the hell does this guy do for a living? It's a light blue and white house with little red trims and shutters, and I think it has at least two wings… There are marble pillars in the front holding up a ceiling-type-thingy over the front door and it looks like he had at least three cars parked in a medium-sized garage. He had a stone birdbath and a leveled stone fountain on the front of his perfectly green lawn, as well as what appeared to be a flower garden. The flowers were all either purple or red… those are my two favorite colors… I shudder slightly. Maybe that's only a coincidence… I tell myself, yeah, yeah, I'm sure he didn't do that on purpose… I laugh nervously on the inside as I debate whether or not to move forward to the front door, or run back to my apartment.

I end up walking to the front door.

I ring the doorbell and am met with a very long chime. As soon as it ends, the door opens, and Bakura is standing there, wearing black dress pants and a striped blue and white shirt. Huh, I kind of expected him to be in a tux. I'm wearing tan/green cargo pants and a black T-shirt (my purple hoodie's in the wash… that's why I'm now wearing it). He smirks, "Ah Marik, right on time."

I raise an eyebrow, "You told me to show up at four in the least, and six at the latest. How is five on time?"

"I wanted you to show up at five, but knew if I told you to show up at that time that you wouldn't, so I said between four and six hoping you'd go in the middle and you did!"

… Holy crap this guy plans too much…

"Please come inside, you must be cold," he says as he steps aside to allow my passage.

"It's not that cold out," I say as I walk inside. Just as I thought. The house was big and kind of empty. It was colorful though, it's like he had the entire rainbow in here. His walls looked like they had been splatter-painted, cool. Actually, now that I look, it's not so empty. It's full of things, just not furniture. It was mostly filled with paintings. Random paintings too. Some of people, some of landscapes, some of animals, some free-formed, some cartoonish-looking… I found myself staring at them all, they were really well done; they took my breath away. I wanted to stare deeper into them until I could see every brush-stroke, the colors all blended together to form something that looked almost real – too real actually. Maybe that was the problem, they looked too real, and that's why they didn't look real.

"Like the paintings?" Bakura asks me.

I nod, "Yeah, they're amazing."

He smiles, "Really? I'm glad, I painted them."

I turn my head and look at him, "You painted these?"

He laughs, "Why are you so surprised? I have to earn money somehow you know."

"You paint for a living?"

"Yes, I'm pretty famous back in England. Barely anyone knows me here, but I ran out of inspiration back home. The weather's really bad over there you know, rarely sunny. Not good for landscape painting, not at all."

"Huh, I didn't know," I say as I turn back to look at the paintings.

"You've never been to England, of course you wouldn't." He walks next to me – a little too close for my liking, but I don't move – "I could give you one if you want," he says.

"Really?" I turn my head and ask.

"Sure, see one that catches your eye?" I turn my head to look at them all, not sure which one I want more. "You don't have to decide right now," Bakura says, "I have them all over, I'm sure you'll find one you'll love," he smirks at the end of this, as if he knows exactly which one I'm going to pick. Hell, he probably does… Stupid stalker.

"Where's this date of yours anyway?"

"He's coming, he's coming," he raises an eyebrow mockingly at me, "is someone jealous?"

I scoff, "As if, I'm happy! I'll stop seeing you everywhere now." Bakura chuckles, but then I realize something. "Wait," I start out, "If he's coming after five, then why pay me for the whole day?"

"Because I wanted to give you every reason to come," he looks at me, "would you kindly follow me?"

"Where are we going?"

"You shall see Marik."

"Stop being so vague all the time! It's really annoying."

Bakura chuckles, "I'm sorry my dear, but it's who I am."

"I told you to stop calling me 'my dear.'"

"Force of habit, follow me." He starts to walk away and I follow him. He leads me through many hallways, each lined with paintings. But the paintings weren't related in any sort of way at all, it could go from bleak and gray to bright and colorful in one step. The hallways were red striped with a darker red, and the ceiling was all white. But I noticed splotches of purple randomly placed everywhere… "What's with the random purple?" I decide to ask.

He looks behind him casually while still walking, "I've recently become… attached to that color. I used to love red, hence the walls, but my house would have looked to… normal for my tastes if all the walls were red, so I splatter painted them when I was bored one day. I actually have an entire room that's black, it's where I do my meditation."

I stare at him dumbfounded for the second time that evening, "You do meditation?"

He smiles over his shoulder, "You'll find I do a lot of things you wouldn't think of me to do. Please stop being so surprised, it makes me think that you think I'm just a creepy person whom you see everywhere."

"That is what I think of you."

He smiles mischievously, "I know."

"See, it's comments like that that make me think you're creepy."

He laughs, then turns his head and keeps walking. Eventually, we stop in a large room with a high ceiling. Two of the walls are taken up by bookshelves filled with tons of books. Geez, he should rent out his room as a library or something! This is a lot of books! The other two walls have a fancy pattern over yellow wallpaper on them, and one of the walls has a huge window overlooking the outside: first you see a beautiful green almost-meadow with a weeping willow – one of my favorite trees – and then in the background you see the city. All the lights, all the beauty that is Paris, and it looks as if the window is in the perfect position to view the sunset. Whoever did that was a real thinker, I would love to sit here and watch the sunset, I love sunsets, they're just so cool-looking. They never cease to calm me.

The rest of the wall space is taken up by more paintings, again with all of them being completely random. There's also a huge red curtain hiding the corner connecting the non-bookcase walls, I wonder what's behind it… I look up at the ceiling, and my jaw drops. Holy – it's like the Sistine Chapel in here! There are pictures of angels and meadows and animals all over the ceiling! They're all surrounded by gorgeous flowers, and once again they look so real that I feel as if the angels are going to descend upon us and fly around the room – I can practically smell the flowers! – but it also seems as if it's too real, like I'm dreaming and all it'll take to wake me is one big surprise. Don't tell me he painted that too!

Once I'm done admiring the ceiling, I look at the room once again. There's some chairs and drapes against the walls, and a few fancy-schmancy couches, but the thing that catches my eye the most (besides the magnificent ceiling) is the two-person table set out right in the middle of the room with fancy dining wear on top of a red table cloth with a single rose in a narrow, glass vase. There are even rose petals all over the seats and on the floor. The sight of the obvious effort for romance here made me want to heave. I'm not really a "romantic" guy, I don't see the point. But whoever this guy Bakura's expecting must be special. Good, the more special the better, that means he can spend all his time stalking that guy and not stalking me.

I look over at Bakura, who is smiling amusedly at me. "Do you like paintings Marik?" he asks.

"Don't you already know if I do or don't?" I ask sarcastically.

He chuckles, "I don't know everything Marik."

"Well, for your information, yes. I do like paintings."

"What do you like about them?" Bakura asked casually, yet you could hear his genuine curiosity.

Marik looked at the paintings, "Their meanings… how the colors blend together. The look of them, you know? Isn't that what paintings are for? To look at?"

Bakura glanced up at his ceiling, being all blasé about it. "What I like most is the feelings and thoughts they provoke…" he says like he's talking to himself, but this picture is shot when he turns to me and smiles, "What do you think of when you see that painting?" he says as he points to a picture of a boy with black hair sitting on a chair in a relaxed position, looking out the window at a rainy day. We could only see his face through the reflection in the mirror. He had headphones in his ears, and his face… it looks almost happy, yet sad at the same time, like he's sad about the rain because he can't go outside now, but he's also happy about the rain because he knows it'll help the plants and things grow… To me, it seems as if he's wearing the headphones not to listen to music, but to block out the pit pat of the rain. And now that I look deeper into his dark brown eyes, I realize that he's deep in thought, maybe he's pondering his life, maybe –

My thoughts are interrupted by Bakura: "You're staring very intently at that painting…"

I look at him, "He's staring intently at the rain."

Bakura nods. "Ah yes, I drew that in college believe it or not. They had hired people to pose so that we could paint them… We could paint whoever we wanted, and I chose him because of how he was looking at the window."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say to that, luckily Bakura walked over to the rose petal-covered table and picked up a small remote. He threw it to me and I barely caught it. "Click number seven and then three."

I look at the remote, there's a big red button at the top right-hand corner, a blue button at the top left-hand corner and the rest is covered in numbers 1-9 and 0 all by itself below them. I click number seven and then three, and after a few seconds of nothing happening the big red curtain covering the corner of the room starts to part open. I feel my mouth start to gape as I see a stage behind the curtain, set up with all the instruments I know how to play. Even the drums. I don't think I even remember a time when someone requested drums; although this was probably a good thing 'cause they were a pain to carry… The only difference between my instruments and these ones was that there was a grand piano. I've rarely ever played a grand piano because they cost too much, I only have a keyboard. I walk up to the stage and climb up it – the stage was only about 2 ½ feet – and walked right up to the expensive piano. It was wooden, painted a shiny black. So shiny I could see my reflection in it. I lift the cover hiding the keys and stroke the ivories. I can tell this piano's rarely been used, he probably just has it because every rich bastard just has a grand piano just sitting somewhere. It saddened me that this thing probably didn't get played often. "Don't just stand there," Bakura says, "start playing."

I stare at him curiously, "But your date isn't here yet."

He waves his hand dismissively, "I hired you, I'll have you play when I want. Besides, wouldn't it be nice if he heard music when he first walked in?"

I shrugged, and realized probably for the first time that Bakura said he. Actually, I kind of just automatically figured that, so it didn't surprise me much. After all, he was stalking me right? And I'm a boy. Hopefully that would change though and he'd start stalking this guy instead. I kind of feel bad for the poor guy… After thinking this all in a matter of a few seconds, I sit down, crack my fingers and start playing.

I don't know how long I played for, but when I opened my eyes (I tend to play with my eyes closed) I saw Bakura sitting in a chair painting something. At first I wondered what the hell he could be painting, but then realized that he was playing me. I could feel heat rise to my cheeks and opened my mouth to tell him to stop because I didn't like being painted, but then I noticed his face… it looked so focused. He was staring at his painting like it was the only thing in the world, his face had an undeniable calm to it, as if he knew exactly where he was going to stroke his brush next, and his brow was creased just a little bit, like this painting may not come out exactly right so he needed to pay more attention to it.

I quickly close my eyes again as he turns his head to look at me. I can feel my heart beat faster as I worry I was caught staring, but it seems as if he didn't notice, or if he did he wasn't saying anything. I open one eye cautiously to see him smirking knowingly at me. I quickly close my eye as I feel my cheeks grow hot. I hear him chuckle and I blush even more profusely. "Curious?" I hear his voice ask. I can't tell if he's talking about the painting or something else… "You can see my progress if you want, though I warn you it's not finished." Oh good, he's talking about the painting. I finish the song with a very quiet note, as if it wasn't quite finished yet, and jumped off the stage and walked over to him. My eyes bulged out and I immediately leaned over his shoulder to get a better look, "Is that supposed to be me?" I asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, why?" he asks, just a little self-conscious, "Do you not like it?"

"No, no! I love it! But there's no way that's me!"

Bakura stared at me with a confused look, "What do you mean? That's exactly what you look like."

"No, it's too… too…"

"Too what? Spit it out before I go insane Marik!" Huh, I guess all artists are self-conscious about their work, even arrogant ones like him.

I feel my cheeks go hot, "Never mind…" I didn't really want to share my thoughts."

"No, now you have to tell me," Bakura says, "Too what?"

I look down so my blonde hair covers my facial expression, "… I look too good…" I say quietly.

All is dead silent for about two seconds before Bakura bursts out laughing. I glare at him angrily while he holds his chest, convulsing with deep laughter.

"Th-that's your p-problem with it?" he says between laughter, "that you l-look too good?" he goes into another round and I feel my eye start to twitch, "Stop laughing at me!" I say defensively (and embarrassed).

"I-I'm sorry, but that's just a-adorable!" he says, "Little Marik's worried about how he looks? I had no idea!" He continues to laugh as I avoid eye contact, my face still a tomato. The painting was too good, it showed this perfectly tanned and handsome man playing the grand piano with the utmost clam on his face, as if he was daydreaming, or entranced. Bakura had gotten every last detail right, from the kohl around the eyes to the golden accessories (earrings, choker, and bracelets). His hair moved about as if a small breeze played with his platinum locks, and where his hands were supposed to be were a perfect blur to show movement. It wasn't too blurry, so that you couldn't tell what they were supposed to be or just a giant skin-colored blob, and they weren't so still that it looked as if he was just poised there, about to play but not playing yet.

It did me too much justice.

And Bakura was still laughing. "Stop laughing!" I yell at him again. He clams down some, but then he looks at me and says, "You really don't know how beautiful you are?"

I roll my eyes, "I'm not beautiful, and I'm not even pretty."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, "Are you trying to get me to compliment you?"

I shake my head, "No, I'm telling the truth."

Bakura stares at me. "Wow, you're not lying," he says. He stands up and looks me right in the eyes, causing my stomach to knot up, though I don't know why. "Marik," why did I feel like melting like some girl when he said my name in that oh-so-gentle voice? "you're the most beautiful person I've ever met, and the fact that you don't know that makes you even more so. That painting there is what you look like. Actually, this picture doesn't even come close to – do you want me to stop?" he asked since my face was probably the color of marinara sauce, "Maybe you should drink some ice-water." He walks off to the fancy table and pours water into a glass from a clear glass pitcher. He walks back and hands it to me, and as I take it from him our hands brush together lightly, causing my face to go even more red. Damn it, what the hell is happening? I mutter a thanks and drain the glass easily, though I know it wouldn't help much. I hand it back to him, and when he takes it back from me, he purposefully rubs his thumb lightly against my fingers causing me to jerk back and let go of the glass, it would have shattered if Bakura hadn't had a firm hold on it. He smirks at me as another stupid blush creeps up my face. Damn it damn it damn it!

"Are you hungry Marik?" Bakura asks after he sets the glass on the table. I'm about to shake my head, but then the smell of the food he had prepared hit my nose. It smelled delicious, even though I couldn't tell what the heck it was. And then my stomach chose just that moment to growl. I quickly put my arms over my stomach as a light blush came to my cheeks, "A little…" I admit to him. It made me wonder once again what time it was, when I played time just disappeared. Hell, it could be tomorrow for all I pay attention for!

"Sit down and eat then," he tells me, gesturing to the rose petal covered table. I stare at it. "Um…" I say, stalling, "No thanks."

"But aren't you hungry?"

"Not that hungry."

Bakura smirked, "Do you have a fear of roses or something?"

"No, just a fear of…"

"Me?" he suggested with a glint in his eye.

"I'm not afraid of you," I say, surprising him and myself, "I know you won't hurt me – you would have done so by now."

He's silent. Staring at me, blinking at me, thinking deeply. Then he smiles. He doesn't grin, doesn't smirk, he just smiles. "I'm glad you know that, so won't you sit down?"

I shake my head, "I don't like romance-stuff."

Bakura laughs loudly, "I know that, but I set it up for my date, remember? I'm not taking it down and putting it back up again."

"When is your date getting here again?" I ask curiously, "What time is it anyway?" I say as I look around for a clock. It's times like these that I wish I had a watch.

"I think he'll get here soon…" Bakura says elusively, "In the meantime, won't you please sit down and eat?"

My eye starts to twitch, "I'm not going to eat at a table covered in rose petals!" I say angrily, "It's so cliché and overdone, who even decided that roses are romantic anyway? 'Ooooh, roses are red, that means they're romantic! Let's make a whole franchise about it!' Same thing with Valentine's Day! If you want to tell someone you love them or give them something or be romantic you should do it on any day! Not just on that fucking day! It's ridiculous! Why wait till Valentine's Day to tell someone you love them? Why? It makes no sense! I certainly don't need a damn day to tell someone I like them!" I pant a little bit as I calm myself down from my rant, and then I realized what I said and blushed, "Er… forget what I just said…"

"… No," comes Bakura's quiet reply after a moment of silence, "I completely agree with you. Valentine's Day is stupid and too worked up, why wait till then to tell the person you love that you love them? Shouldn't you tell them as soon as you figure it out?" We stare at each other for who-knows-how-long, and the next thing I know he's right in front of me and reaching a hand to play with my hair. Huh, we're about the same height, why have I never noticed that before? "Marik," he says low and quiet, almost as if he's out of breath, as he leans forward, closer to my face, "I love you," he whispers gently right before I feel his lips touch mine. It was a gentle, chaste kiss, but it still caused me to blush pink and to push him away immediately, "S-save that for your date!" I tell him, my face getting redder by the minute, "I should probably get going anyways," I say as I fast-walk away. But before I can get far, he grabs my wrist, halting me in my tracks. "Please stay." I hear his low seductive voice tickle my ear playfully, causing me to turn my head away from the sound and blush further. "At least stay for dinner, please?"

"…" I don't know what to say. At that moment, it hit me that I actually wanted to stay… to see what his date looks like! That's it! I swear! It's not like I'm actually starting to fall for him or that I liked that kiss or anything… no, of course not! He's still the same annoying stalker that I couldn't stand form before, but seriously, who could like this guy and agree to a date with him? "… As soon as your date gets here, I'm out." I say.

I swear I can feel his happiness, why the hell is he so happy? "Wonderful! Please take a seat," he says pulling me back to the table. I find myself not caring that he's holding my hand, probably because I know he's going to let go of it soon. Yeah, that's probably it. Suddenly, the warmth form his hand is gone and he's pulling out a chair for me with a playful smirk. I sit down carefully, almost expecting him to pull out the chair at the last minute, but he doesn't. Once I'm seated he walks into another room and comes back quickly with silver platters. At that moment it hits me that I haven't seen any waiters or help or whatever you call them around. Don't all rich people have people at their beck-n-call? "Don't you have waiters or something?" I ask him as he sets a silver platter down in front of me. He looks at me and blinks a couple times. "I like to take care of myself. I don't want others to take care of me," he says dismissively while sitting down.

"You clean this entire house yourself?" I asked amazed.

"Yeah… there's really not much else to do during the day…" I notice he's avoiding eye contact, which makes me wonder what the heck he's hiding. I stare at him, thinking that maybe he'll tell me, but he doesn't. I lift up my silver platter and my eyes widen in surprise. It's spaghetti with a side of what appeared to be butternut squash soup and various fruit. What was so surprising about this was that there was no meat. Usually people always had meat for occasions like these. Wait a minute… I just realized something… "Isn't this meal for your date?"

"I prepared more."

"Really?" I asked as I looked at the meal again, "There's no meat…"

"Yes, and?"

"… So you know I'm a vegetarian?"

"Of course."

"… So you also knew I'd be coming and you prepared a meal for me?"

He smirks, "I may not know everything, but I know a lot."

I grind my teeth in annoyance. This guy thinks he knows everything. I pick up my fork and start eating the spaghetti. It's delicious. The pasta's not too stringy or too hard, it's just perfect, and the sauce isn't too chunky or watery, it's right in the middle. The perfect combination. I shove more in my mouth and try to eat slowly to enjoy the taste more. I close my eyes to get the full effect and hear Bakura chuckle. I open my eyes, swallow the spaghetti that's in my mouth and look at him. "What?" I ask.

His head is propped up on the table by his arm and elbow, and his head is staring sideways at me, so his crooked smirk looks even more crooked. He's staring… for lack of a better word, suggestively at me and says, "You. You're so funny and cute and adorable and–"

I interrupt him before my face explodes (I really can't take compliments without blushing) "Hey! So was the weather really all that bad in England?"

He blinks once, surprised by the sudden change in topic, but he answers anyway, "Oh it was just awful. I swear it's evil."

"How can weather be evil?"

"You've never been to England. Don't doubt the weather."

"Why is it evil?" I ask, genuinely curious now.

"It always rained on the few days that I didn't bring an umbrella. Always."

I laugh, "Really? That's horrible."

"It was! The weather was out to get me, I swear." I laugh more and he joins me. Huh, I never thought that I'd laugh with my stalker, of course I also didn't think that I'd ever go to his house either, so… this whole day's been a whole "never-thought" situation. I shove more spaghetti in my mouth.

"So what's this date of yours look like?" I ask with my mouth full.

"Gorgeous."

"That's not what I meant."

"But you were thinking it."

I roll my eyes, and at that moment I'm dying to ask a question… but I don't want to because I'm kind of afraid of the answer. Screw it, my curiosity is too great: "How do you know so much about me?" I ask, "I mean, I get that you're my stalker, but… how do you find stuff out?"

He smiles, as if that's not a weird question at all, "Simple, I observe." He doesn't say anything else after this.

"… You observe?"

"Yes. For instance, I know that you like the color purple because you always wear that purple hoodie of yours wherever you go –"

"So you do follow me!" I accuse.

He chuckles, "I don't 'follow' you, I simply know where you're going and go there too."

"… That's called following Bakura."

He laughs, "Anyway, I also know that you hate meat because whenever you go out to eat –"

"Okay seriously, it kind of creeps me out that you follow me like that."

"– whenever you go out to eat you never order meat and if a meat plate walks past you scrunch your nose up in disgust."

"I do not!"

"Yes you do. I also know that you hate romance because whenever you play music for people – all right yes, I follow you, shut your mouth – whenever you play music for people and they do something romantic you roll your eyes or close your eyes and get lost in the music," he smirks, "And from tonight I learned that little Marik can't handle compliments."

I blush a light pink, "It's not my fault… people rarely compliment me."

"Not even on your music?"

"They usually just say 'Thank you!' very enthusiastically, or 'You were really good!' but they never tell me why it was good, or why they liked it. That's what I'd really like to know, though I'd probably blush crimson if it got to praise-y for my tastes.

"Praise-y?" he asks mockingly.

"It could be a word," I defend.

He chuckles, and then stares at me with those glinting, seductive eyes. He leans forward as far as he could go without moving the table or hurting himself, "When I first heard you playing, I instantly fell in love. The song had so much passion, so much emotion in it. Whenever you played I could tell that you were really into the song, not like other people who play only for money. I think that's sexy," he lowered his voice so that it sounded almost like a purr to my ears, "I think you're sexy, with those enchanting violet eyes to your perfectly, flawless tan skin to your six-pack –"

"How do you know I have a six pack?" I ask to break his compliment-chain before I have to go to the hospital for heatstroke.

He raises one of his eyebrows at me, "Are you seriously asking me that question? It's not exactly rocket science with that revealing top you always wear."

"It's not revealing!" I defend my favorite purple shirt.

"It shows off your midriff and is sleeveless. How is that not revealing?" I'm about to retort when he starts talking again, "In fact, when I first saw you I thought that you were, well, kind of desperate. I mean, anyone who shows so much skin is just asking for someone to flirt with them and maybe bring home."

"Okay, first of all, ew, and second, I'm not desperate! I'm not even looking for a relationship right now."

"I know."

"How do you know that?"

An amused smile plays at his lips, "Because one time you yelled at me, "I'm not looking for a relationship right now!" Remember?"

I faintly remembered that… It sure sounds like something I'd say. I look around once more to see if there is a clock nearby. There isn't. Of course. "What time is it anyway?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I guess the more accurate term would be, "I don't care," but I also don't know so…"

"Don't you have a clock around here?"

Bakura shrugged, "Honestly I think the concept of time is a bother, so I only have one alarm clock in my bedroom to help me wake up. Of course I have to replace said clock almost every morning but…"

"You only have one clock in this gigantic house?" I ask skeptically, "There's no way."

Bakura smiled, "Didn't I say there's a lot of things that are surprising about me?"

I shake my head in amazement. It's my own fault I guess for not having a watch. "Why do you have a house this big anyway?"

Bakura puts some spaghetti in his mouth and slurps it up quickly, "When I first moved to France, I wanted a big house with secret passageways and gigantic hallways that I could lose myself in. I wanted secret rooms that only I knew how to enter, and I thought that every big house came with them. But apparently I was wrong… " he was silent after that, but I could tell he wanted to tell more so I didn't speak. "I actually hate this house now," he said after I put more spaghetti in my mouth, "its' way too big. This house is so empty…"

"Of course it's empty," I say into a pause, "the house is too big, it'd be impossible to make it feel anything but empty."

He smiled, "I tried to fill the emptiness with paintings," he said, ignoring my intervention, "but that just didn't work. I began to feel very lonely, and I tried to avoid this house as often as possible. I knew something was missing, but I didn't know what…" More silence again. He puts some squash soup in his mouth and speaks again once he's done eating it. "One day I went out, fed up with my empty home. Loathing even the thought of going back to my house, I planned on never returning. I was thinking about selling it but I knew that no one would by it," he stared into space, far away from a rose petal covered table, "and then I heard your music…" he paused, thinking about what to say next, "When I heard your song, I felt instantly calm. My anger disappeared, my troubles evaporated, I knew I had to find whoever was playing that beautiful song, and then I saw you," he stabbed his fork into a melon, "I knew you were different than anyone else I've ever met, I just didn't know how. Then I talked to you and found that you speak English. You have no idea how great that was for me, I couldn't speak French very well at all… I'm getting better but I just hate learning a new language… I have a terrible memory."

"You have no trouble remembering stuff about me…" I mumbled, earning a chuckle.

"Anyway," he said, putting the stabbed melon into his mouth, "I think that's when I fell in love…"

I started choking on the spaghetti I had just put in my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Bakura asked with, was that worry in his voice? He's actually worried about me? "Why don't you drink your water?" he says handing my cup to me. I take it and drain the cup immediately. "I-I'm okay…" I say, "Just… surprised me a bit there."

Bakura seemed confused, "Surprised? Surprised about what?" suddenly his face got that whole, "ooooh, I figured it out" look and he smirked. "Oooh, surprised…"

I felt my face flush, "What are you thinking? 'Cause I think we're thinking different things…"

Bakura put his elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand again, "You can't imagine someone like me being in love can you?"

My face turned redder and I looked away from his stare, "No! I mean, I can, just…"

"Just…?" Bakura pushed.

I looked down, completely concealing my face, "Just… not with me…" All was silent once more for the night, and then Bakura said quietly, "You didn't seem to think of that when I told you before…"

At first I didn't know what he was talking about, he told me before? What does he – oh, that's right, he told me he loves me right before we…

My blush traveled down to my neck, "I-I was…"

"Distracted?" Bakura asked (I swear I can hear the smirk in his voice).

I look up, slightly angry now, though I don't know why, "When's your date getting here?"

Bakura smiles playfully, "I don't know, I told him to show up whenever."

I stare at him, "… What?"

Bakura smiled, "I told you, I think time is a bother, so I don't really care."

"… And yet you thought I'd show up at five?"

"That's one of the few times where I actually cared about the time, yes."

"What would have happened if your date got here before me?"

"Then when you did arrive I would have you play music for us, but that didn't happen now did it?"

"…"

"Speaking of music, could you continue playing so I can finish my painting?"

"It's not finished yet?"

"Oh heavens no! I still need to add a background and I want to make it as perfect as I can."

"… You really don't have to…"

"Did it ever occur to you that I want to?"

"Okay, how about this, stop painting me."

Bakura smiled, "But you're being hired to play music, and there's no rule on what I can do while you're playing said music.

I felt my eye twitch. Damn it, this guy knew how to get what he wanted. I stood up angrily and stalked over to the piano. I sat down on the piano bench and thought about what to play. Hm… I played a random song that I forgot the name to, but it sounds really pretty. At first it wasn't flowing right because I was so mad that he was painting me, but after a while I calmed down and lost track of everything again. I just kept playing and playing and playing, enjoying the feel of the music transporting me to an entirely different world… I only stopped playing when I heard Bakura whisper directly in my ear: "You can stop playing now if you want." I jerked away from him so much that I fell onto the floor on the other side of the bench. I stood up, red-faced and said, "Don't do that!"

Bakura smiled, "It's not my fault you didn't realize I've been sitting next to you for the past minute." Woah, he is sitting on the bench… how did I not notice that? "I finished the painting, it's not perfect but it will do… I think I'll enter it in an art contest. –"

"Like hell you will," I growled.

"Why not?"

"I don't even like people looking at pictures of me, why would a painting be any different?"

Bakura shrugged, "Fine, could you play the violin next please?"

I groaned, "Are you going to paint me some more?" I asked woefully.

A smirk played at his lips, "Maybe." He jumped down from the stage and walked over to his painting supplies. I sighed and walked over to the violin. I turn my head back at him, "What happens when your date shows up and sees you painting another man?"

"I'll tell him I was bored waiting for him and that you're my model."

I snort, "Yeah, I'm a model, like he'd believe that."

Bakura smiled, "You could be a model Marik, you certainly have the looks for it."

I wave my hand dismissively, determined not to blush any more tonight, "You're my stalker, of course you'd say stuff like that."

Bakura smiled, "Marik, I've already told you this, but…" he jumped up onto the stage and put his face one centimeter apart from mine, the movement was so fast that I couldn't step back, "I love you," he whispered again before leaning in and pecking me lightly on the lips. I blushed – despite my attempts to not do just that – and was about to yell at him, but he jumped back down to his painting supplies so fast that I could only stare at his cat-like jumping skills. He turned around to face me with a smirk, "Would you please play the violin now?"

"Only if you stop doing that," I grumble before sitting down and taking the instrument in my hand. It was a beautiful instrument, it wasn't black like the piano, but it was a beautiful ebony wood. It was really shiny and had a slippery, waxed feel to it, but I wouldn't drop it, I knew that. I closed my eyes and tried to calm myself down before I played this time. I tried not to get too into the music because I didn't want Bakura to sneak up on me like that again, but I just couldn't help it – I love music.

For some odd reason we were eating spaghetti at the table again. After he had finished painting me playing the violin, he tapped me lightly on the shoulder – scaring the bajeezus out of me – and told me to come see that painting as well.

It was marvelous, even better than the last one. It showed the same handsome stranger as before (this time he was playing the violin though), only calmer, more in control, The hands were a perfect blur of movement once again, and the background – oh the background! It was mainly black with little swirls of purple and blue swirling from me outward. There were also very, very small blotches of red around me, and it looked simply beautiful. I can't believe he painted this, he doesn't seem like the type to express himself creatively in any way, let alone through painting. I look at him, "I'm telling you, that's not me."

"And I'm telling you it's as close as I can get to your true beauty."

I shake my head, trying not to blush, "And I'm telling you that I'm. Not. Beautiful."

Bakura smirks, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder is it not?"

… Damn it, he's got me again. "Whatever…"

"Would you care to eat once more?"

I thought about it for a while, before deciding that it wouldn't kill me to eat some more. But it did make me wonder what time it was again, surely a painting such as this would take time…? "Do you still not care what time it is?"

"If you keep asking what time it is I'm going to go break my alarm clock just so that I won't be able to tell you."

"So you could tell me?" I ask with a grin.

He sighs, "Yes, but I'd have to walk all the way to my room… which I don't want to do. Besides, you don't feel tired do you? Then it can't be that late." He started walking back towards the table, and since I thought that his point made sense, I followed him.

So now here we are, at the rose petal-covered table once more, eating spaghetti, me still wondering when the hell his date will show up, but knowing if I ask he'll just say something like, "Oh, he's coming," or, "I don't know," or "Oh, didn't you see him? He came in an hour ago and left already." I find myself wondering if his date will ever show up, maybe he just made the whole thing up… he certainly looks like the type to do that.

"You know," Bakura says absentmindedly while playing with his spaghetti strands, "you're not the first person I've "stalked," as you call it."

I raise my eyebrow, "Oh really?"

"No, I've met quite a few people where I've obsessed over them for a while, but this obsession usually ended after…" his voice trailed off as he thought of what to say next, "… after… to put it delicately, after we've been together for a night."

I swear he is determined to make me choke on my food. This time I was drinking some water when he said that so I started spluttering and coughing and he offered me a napkin. After my little choking/coughing fit, I looked at him and managed to squeak out, "Really?"

He smiled, "Really, surely someone as pretty as yourself has…?"

"NO!" I yell, "I mean… no… I'm…."

Bakura's eyes widened, "You're still a virgin?"

My face burns as I avoid eye contact, "You don't have to be so blunt about it!"

"I would've never thought… I thought for sure you would have… bloody hell, this changes everything…" he sounded so confused right now that I just had to look at him to see his facial expression. His eyebrows were scrunched up and he was staring at the table intently. But then this moment passed and he looked up and smiled brightly, "So you're saving yourself?"

I look away, "Y-yeah… I've kissed before, but that's it…"

Bakura smiled, "I think that's so cute Marik, do you have any idea how respectable that is?"

I scoff, "Most people today think that's lame."

"Well they're a bunch of idiots, it takes a real man to deny himself like that."

"Why thank you so much…" I say sarcastically as I shove more spaghetti in my mouth.

He chuckles, "As I was saying before though, you're not the first, most of my other obsessions left me before I woke though. I'm a very heavy sleeper and don't like to be woken up, plus I'm irritable in the morning…"

"Wait," I interrupt, "they left you?"

He sighed sadly, "Yes, they were all ashamed at what they had done and left me before morning came. I think that's partially why I can't stand this house anymore, there's too many sad memories. And the worst part is…" he stopped and started eating more of his spaghetti.

"What?" I ask, "What's the worst part?"

He looked down at his spaghetti for the longest time, a faraway, sad look in his eyes, before he looked up at me, "The worst part was, I didn't love any of them. I just thought they were interesting. I did the same thing to them as I did to you though, found out everything I could about them, showed up everywhere they went, etcetera, but I didn't love them, and it still hut when I found that they left me in the morning." It's silent as I take this in, I open my mouth to ask a question, but he interrupts, "I don't think I've ever loved anyone who I've obsessed over, except for one."

"Who?" I find myself asking, but realizing I already know the answer.

He smiles and decides to answer anyway, "You," he says, "it's you who I love Marik. It didn't start out that way, I knew you were bi 'cause you checked out boys and girls equally, and at first I thought you'd just be an easy target, but it certainly didn't turn out that way. You're the longest person I've ever obsessed over, usually if someone doesn't give in right away I just move on, but I didn't with you. I felt something towards you, I didn't know what it was but…" I think he paused here to smile at my impressive blush, but I might be wrong, "… but as I got to know you, better than any of my other obsessions, I found myself falling for you more and more, and whenever you played your music… I felt… I can't describe it. I didn't just want to fuck you anymore, I wanted to talk to you, get to know every last detail, every single thing that I couldn't learn from simply observing you, I wanted to know it all, and I wanted to hear you tell me them. I wanted to listen to you play for hours upon hours on end, I wanted to kiss you softly in the sunset, I wanted –"

"Stop!" I yell, by face a deep shade of red, "Stop! Just stop okay?" I bury my still-blushing face in my hands.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"'What's wrong?'" I say mockingly, "'What's wrong,' 'what's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong!" I stand up and stare directly at him, "You annoy me, you irritate me, and I never thought I could even stand the thought of being around you. You're arrogant, you always get what you want, you act like you own the world, you're a word-twister, and I swear you get some sick kick out of making me blush. You're paintings are too good, you compliment me too much, and you feel you can be completely honest with me. You're… You're…!"

"I'm what?"

I couldn't stand it anymore, at that moment I felt so mixed up, so confused, so hopelessly lost. Stuck in the thoughts of, "Why does this guy like me so much? What could I have possibly done? Why me?" I couldn't think straight, and at that moment I just let whatever part of me that wanted to take over take over, and that part of me wanted to reach across the table, grab Bakura by the collar and kiss him. I heard a clatter of silverware fall on Bakura's end of the table, signifying that he had been taken by surprise. Good. Serves you right you bastard for turning me into a mess.

After about half a minute, I separate from him and notice that we're both panting heavily – we hadn't broken once for air. My face turns an impressive shade of crimson and I slump back into my chair and slam my head down onto the table. "You're confusing," I finally say, "that's what you are, you're confusing as hell and I can't believe I just did that!" I bring my hand up and put them through my hair and keep them there. I don't think I'm going to be able to lift my head from this table anytime soon, nope. I think I'll just have to stay here for the rest of my life. Yeah, that's what I'll do, just sit here and never lift my head up again, yeah.

Unfortunately, Bakura has other plans.

I feel fingertips brush lightly down my spine, causing me to straighten up in surprise, lifting my head from the table. He's right there, right in my face, our lips only a half a centimeter apart this time. He brings the hand that's not busy stroking my back up to my head and starts playing with my hair, "I didn't think you'd do that so soon," he whispers. I taste the spaghetti and fruit on his breath, forming together to create a highly seductive sweet-smelling sensation. He tries to sit on my lap, closing the distance between our lips once more. His arms are around me in a sort of hug, only one of them is on my back and the other's entangled in my hair, trying to bring us closer together than we already are. My arms are still in my hair, and I can't put them down without touching Bakura's arms, plus, his mouth is very distracting right now. This kiss was much, much different from the gentle kisses from before, even different than my partly-rough kiss. He was kissing me so… passionately! And it wasn't limited to only my lips, no, he was kissing all over my face; my jaw bone, my cheeks, my neck… oh man this feels so good… I let out a moan as he bites me somewhere on my neck right and before my shoulder. I sort of wish I hadn't and I'm also glad that I did because now he focused on that one spot, making my insides wriggle with sensations I've never felt before. I let out more moans, and I think I muttered, "Stop… stop" breathlessly a few times, but he either didn't hear me or didn't listen, and all through this he's caressing my back, almost as if his hand and his mouth are fighting for my attention. After he does stop biting that one, sweet spot of mine, he moves back to my lips, and I decide where to drop my arms – right around his neck. I burry my hands in his white, fluffy hair and deepen the kiss, finally giving in. How could something that felt so good possible be bad or wrong? He traces his tongue along my bottom lip, causing my mouth to open and he wastes no time in tasting me, his tongue exploring the cavern of my mouth. I didn't know what to do, I've never kissed with tongue before, so I just let him explore, enjoying the sensation it sent through every part of my body. At one time, our tongues touched and my whole body shuddered, but he was right there, comforting me, not allowing me to move away or to break our hold. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but after what seemed like eternity (but it also seemed like a nanosecond) he broke apart from me and stared into my eyes with his, big, penetrating, milky brown ones and whispered gently into my ear, "I don't know about you, but I enjoyed that," before he nibbled my ear.

I don't know why, but I responded with, "I'm pretty sure I enjoyed it more than you," in a low, quiet voice. Why were we being so quiet?

He chuckled, low and seductive while still nibbling my ear. His fingertips were still brushing down my back softly, and his other hand is playing idly with my hair. He's still sitting in my lap. "I've always wanted hair like yours," he muses, "it's so silky, so smooth, so pretty, mine's a tangled, stringy mess."

"No it's not," I tell him burying my hand deeper into his soft hair, "It's soft and fluffy, and it looks cooler than mine."

He stops biting my ear to look me in the eyes, "You're so nice," he says quietly before kissing me on the lips once more. This kiss was gentle again, almost as if he was afraid that I would leave him if we went too fast…

Ah hell.

"Bakura?" I break the kiss to ask, "Are you… afraid?"

It takes him a while to answer. "… Afraid of what?"

"That I'll… that you'll wake up and see me gone."

He stops stroking my back, and his hand lays dead in my hair. "… Why… why would you think that?"

I unbury one of my hands and attempt to brush it lightly down his spine comfortingly like he did to me, but I think I failed, "Because it's happened to you so often…"

He stares at me before burying his face into my shoulder. "… I don't want to lose you…" he says almost incoherently. Ha, this way he doesn't have to admit that he's afraid, he really is clever.

"You won't lose me," I whisper reassuringly into his ear before wrapping both arms around him in a hug. He moves his arms so that they're both around my back and hugging me too, and we stay like that for the longest time…

Suddenly, he shifts backwards and looks into my eyes, "In that case," he says, his voice all low and seductive again, "can we go a bit faster…?"

My face goes bright, bright red, and I stutter, "I-I-I don't think I'm r-ready for that y-yet…"

He smiles kindly, understandingly, "Okay, we'll move at your pace. Since you've went this far to keep your virginity I'll respect that," then he presses his lips against mine forcefully, possessively, demanding entrance once again, to which I gladly gave entry to. We kiss deeply once again, and I can tell he's happy, even if we probably won't get farther than kissing for… a long while. I think he might be sick of that actually, maybe he's glad I want to take it slow, maybe he'll enjoy the pace. Maybe he was planning on going slow with his date tonight…

Holy crap, his date!

I break the kiss and push him away, causing him to almost, almost, fall out of my lap. I can see the hurt in his eyes, I can tell he's thinking that I lied to him about him never losing me. I feel horrible, I start to explain before he can accuse me of anything, "Your date!" I begin, "Your date! Isn't he getting here soon?"

Bakura blinked a couple times, the hurt gone, and now being replaced with amusement. "Oh, I suppose I should tell you now. You're my date."

I think my ears had stopped working for a second, because I swear Bakura just said that I was his date. "… What?" I ask, "What did you say?"

He smiled mischievously, "You're my date. Think about it. I told my date to show up whenever, I told you to show up whenever. We ate dinner together, we talked for a little bit," he smirks, "we kissed, we're at my house on Valentine's Day, I'm pretty sure that qualifies as a date, and therefore, you as my date."

"Wait a minute," I say, trying to clear this all in my head, "do you mean to tell me that you didn't even have a date tonight?"

Bakura smiled, "I had a date, it was just a matter of whether or not he would show up."

I grind my teeth together, "Do you mean to tell me," I say, trying to conceal my anger, "that you planned this whole thing, on the mere hopes that I would show up, just to kiss me?"

"Of course not," Bakura said, his smile brightening every second, "I planned this whole thing hoping that you would shop up so that I could convince you to love me. I was hoping to get some action, but then I found out that you were a virgin and that changed everything. I would only go that far if you wanted to and I wouldn't try and convince you otherwise," he brought our faces close together so our noses would touch, "I'm glad we kissed though, you seemed to like that."

I blush crimson, "Sh-shut up!"

Bakura chuckled. "I forgot to tell you," he said, "I'm learning to play the guitar a little bit…" He stops talking after that, so I have to ask, "… Can I hear you play?"

He smiles brightly at the chance to show off and gets down from my lap and hops up onto the stage. I follow him, and once we're both seated, he starts playing the guitar.

I gasp immediately. It's my favorite song, it's one of my favorites because it's a song of betrayal and sadness, of heartbreak and loneliness, and later it breaks into the happy, lovey-dovey tune. I love this song because most people don't hear the betrayal part, they just hear the romantic part, so I always get to play it whenever I play guitar for my customers. And I do, I play this song every time someone hires me, I just love it so much, there's so much emotion in the piece, so much pain and suffering, I love it, I love to play it and I love listening to it. I swear, Bakura can play it better than me.

Once he's done with the lovely song, I ask him, "How long have you been practicing?"

He smirks, "Ever since I've been stalking you."

"You're better than me," I say just a little dejectedly.

"My dear Marik, that can't be because I learned it from you."

"… What? How?"

"I thought that maybe if I learned how to play one of your favorite songs, you would like me more. I followed you and listened and realized that, hey, you always play this song, and so then I started to memorize your hand movements and I practiced every day for countless hours."

"… You still play it better than me."

He smiles, "I think I know why that might be. It's true you've felt betrayal, and that emotional part of the song comes out wonderfully –"

"You can hear the betrayal part?"I ask surprised; most people don't.

He chuckled, 'With the way you play it, how could I not notice? Anyway, while the song is about betrayal, it's also about love and how you still love the person who betrayed you. It takes you on a journey through pain and suffering equally as it does through love and joy. You've never been in love, have you Marik?"

"… No…" I admit, my cheeks going a bit red.

"Exactly, I on the other hand have, so I can play the love part as well, which makes it have more emotion and therefore sound better. I think that's also the reason why you don't like romance, you've never been in love," he leans forward into my face, "but you are now, right?"

I manage to grin back at him, "No matter how much I can't believe it, somehow I've fallen for someone like you…"

"Say it," he insisted.

"Say what?"

"Say it!"

"Say what?"

"Say that you love me."

My face burns, I avoid his eyes, "N-now?"

"Yes now, I've already told you enough times tonight, I want to hear you say it."

"I-I… I…" I felt my stomach knot and suddenly my mouth was dry, I couldn't speak anymore.

"Almost there… just two more words…" Bakura pressed.

"I… I…" I took a deep breath and felt courage come to me, "I… I love you Bakura, no matter how weird that was to me a while ago…" I realize once again that I don't know what time it is. "… Can you tell me what time it is now?" I ask.

He smirks, "I told you, I only have one alarm clock in my bedroom~," he purrs as he puts the guitar down and leans right up into my face, "do you want to come see my bedroom?" he asks, my face going even redder than before, "Even if we don't do anything, the bed is sill comfier than chairs," he continues his case.

I'm about to say that the time isn't really that important, but I find myself thinking, What the heck? And I say, "Yes… I'd love to see your bedroom," before I peck him lightly on the lips and stand up, "lead the way… my love…" I feel so corny right now.

Bakura stand up, takes hold of my hands, and kisses me on the cheek, "I say, I think I could get used to that name my dear…" he starts walking away and gently pulls me along with him by my hands up his white staircase.

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I suppose you're wondering what happened after that day. Well I'm telling you right now, we didn't do anything. We just kissed, that's it. Of course, some of those kisses were a little more… intimate than others… but that's not important.

Anyway, after we both woke up in the morning, Bakura asked if I would move in with him and cure his loneliness. I don't know what it is, but I agreed immediately. Hey, I wouldn't have to pay rent anymore, and I realized that… I really did love this guy. I can't believe it. I fell in love with my stalker. Isn't that every stalker's dream? To have the person they stalk fall in love with them? Well, I still can't believe it, but it happened, and I'm not complaining. And you know what else I realized? I think… maybe I loved Bakura all along, and all it took was getting to know him a little better.

He tells me he loves me every day. He says it's so I don't forget, but I think he just loves to see me blush. He admits that he does enjoy seeing me blush, but he won't say that that's the reason. I tell him that if he keeps telling me that he love me then eventually I won't blush anymore, but he doesn't listen. He still tells me he loves me every day.

I moved all the stuff I previously owned into his huge house, and he says that now the house isn't so empty anymore. He still demands to paint me, though I don't mind as much as I did before anymore. He actually did enter a painting of me in an art contest. It won first place. Now that I still can't believe.

Basically, I'm much happier than I was before. Bakura's teaching me how to paint, and I'm teaching him how to play guitar. I still run my music business, even though Bakura's job makes plenty of money for the both of us (I didn't know painters could be so rich…) Sometimes he joins me with a client on the guitar and we do a duet. We sound really good apparently, so everyone says. I still can't handle compliments well, and Bakura takes full advantage of this fact.

Oh, and I no longer hate Valentine's Day or romance. Thought you might like to know.

(1): Equals about 300 US dollars and about 184 British pounds. (It also equals about 24,526 Japanese yen for those who care.)

(2): Equals about 7,200 US dollars and about 4,410 British pounds. (It also equals about 589,193 Japanese yen for those obsessed with Japanese culture like moi.)

Okay, I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU DRAW ONE OF BAKURA'S PAINTINGS OF MARIK, I DON'T CARE WHICH ONE YOU DO. If you do I'll… I'll… write a story of your choosing for you! PLEASE~! Thanks XD I hope you liked it, please send me a review telling me what you liked or didn't like! I had fun writing this... ^^