A/N- Hey you lot! :D This is my entry for Round 8 of the YGO fanfiction contest, with the pairing Bananashipping- Honda x Malik. Moving past the fact that it is, perhaps, the most ridiculous name for a shipping ever, I had massive fun writing this. Probably my favourite pairing of the season so far (apart from Spiritshipping) and so I really wanted to do it justice- I hope I have! :/ It's nowhere near perfect, but it was just such a monster that I had to round it off quickly because of time limits! D: However, I'm sort of pleased with it- this is a plot I've wanted to write for a while, and it just fit the pairings very well.
This also doubles as a Merry Christmas/ Happy New Year fic for all the people that read my stuff- I want to say a huge thank you, because if it weren't for all of you then writing these stories would be a lot less rewarding! :D
Anyway, to prevent this from becoming a massive mushy speech I'll shut up and let you read! xD
Enjoy!
Pairing(s): Bananashipping, Peachshipping, Chaseshipping, Mastershipping. Yes, too many pairings... XP
Warning(s): Yaoi, sexual references, drug abuse, mentions of drug trafficking, one fairly graphic moment of cocaine withdrawal symptoms.
ALSO Honda as a poet. That will be explained at the end. XD
An All-Consuming Need
And the bells were ringing out, for Christmas Day...
Honda sipped his coffee tentatively before setting it down with a hiss of pain; far too hot. He idly listened to the ancient CD player in the corner, churning out its crackling rendition of 'Fairytale of New York', and watched the lone waitress pop her gum in boredom as she leaned against the counter of the almost deserted café. Honda couldn't help but smile wryly; it always amused him that such a depressing song was so popular around this time of year, even in the very city where it was set. Honda tapped the side of his cracked mug along with the low drawl of the lead singer- So Happy Christmas, I love you baby- and stared out of the dirty window to the street outside.
The streets of New York weren't exactly coated in snow like they always seemed to be in Christmas Cards; it was more like muddy slush by this point. There had probably been a pure white veil covering the city early that morning, but the hustle and bustle of The City that Never Slept had no time and patience for the gentle beauty of fresh snow, and it had been churned up and swept away long before Honda rose from his bed. Admittedly he hadn't gotten up before two in the afternoon, but what was the point?
Why get up when you had nowhere to go?
Honda shook his head determinedly. No more thoughts like that, don't make it seem like you've given up, don't let them know that they've won…
"Can I get you anything else, hun?" the waitress called to him, still casually chewing her gum. Honda studied her for a split second; she was beautiful and knew it, blond and dressed to impress, virtually falling out of her uniform... She wouldn't call him again the morning after, he guessed. She'd just gather up her clothes and walk out of his life- forgetting him as soon as he forgot her, and that was what he wanted.
But no. He liked this café, for all its seediness. It was quiet and cheap, and he could sit in peace there for hours. And if he called her over and took her home then that would be it, because he couldn't come back- it would be too awkward.
So the beautiful waitress was off limits. Damn.
Honda took another hesitant sip of his steaming drink, shaking his head to the girl's question, and continued to stare out of the grimy window onto the darkening street. He was about to slip into his usual listless ennui that seemed to make the days go faster, when he spotted out of the corner of his eye a brightly coloured poster tacked onto the filthy wall on the other side of the street, which was flapping in the icy breeze. Honda squinted at it in curiosity- there was something about it that separated it from all the other equally tacky and dirty posters decorating the buildings around him, but he couldn't put his finger on what. From his position ensconced in the café he could vaguely make out the words 'MAGIC' and 'SPECTACULAR' emblazoned across the poster, but the rest of it was too smudged with dirt to make it out from so far away.
With a careless shrug, Honda was about to turn back to his coffee wondering why it had captured his attention in the first place- he must have seen a million other similar programmes all over the city- when a figure appeared from a back alley, only to walk slowly up to the poster and stand in front of it with a tilted head as if they were studying it as deliberately as Honda had just been. Honda watched the figure, intrigued by their odd, indigo coloured cloak (he was not surprised by this strange attire; Honda had lived in the city long enough to have seen people wearing much weirder things) and as he was staring the figure turned to gaze straight at him as if he knew Honda had been watching him.
Honda was immediately transfixed; unable to look away, a cold shiver emanating from his bones as if all his instincts were telling him to look away, look away now! But Honda couldn't. It was like he had been pinned to his seat, frozen in the moment that those eyes had met his. Those eyes. They were violet, a vivid colour that seemed to transcend the inky twilight, and in that second Honda could have sworn that they were alight with a fire, a fire of passion and mischief and life. Someone could fall in love with those eyes alone (and Honda would have bet good money that people had).
And then the moment was over as the boy (Honda could now determine his gender) blinked and Honda caught a glimpse of tan skin, the flash of a smile and the glint of golden earrings before the boy turned away and slipped back into the alleyway.
Honda sat back in his chair breathless; feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his heart. He had never believed in all that fate crap that his friend Yuugi was always spouting enthusiastically- he was too cynical and had lived too much to believe in magic, of any kind. But this (whatever 'this' was) wasn't normal. Random passers-by should not have this kind of effect on him; he was beginning to feel like he had been run over with a freight train.
(Still the music drifted on in the background, like nothing had happened at all. I could have been someone, Well so could anyone)
Throwing money down on the table he stood, without really knowing what he was doing, and walked in a daze out of the door and across the street until he was standing opposite the bill. Rubbing away some of the filth with his thumb, he deciphered the words:
SPECTACULAR MAGIC SHOW! Malik Ishtar, will WOW and AMAZE you with his incredible abilities at the Millennium Theatre, for one night only, on the 24th of December, 7.30 -
Honda chose to ignore the rest of the tacky tag line, and focused instead on the two words:
Malik Ishtar.
Honda turned back to the road, raising his arm to hail a cab, and thought wryly how his friends were always telling him that he was never spontaneous, he always thought things through too much-
"Where to?" the cab driver asked, drawing up alongside him.
What the hell.
"Millennium theatre, please. And hurry, I've got a show to catch."
Considering that this was a low key magic show in a rather squalid theatre that was virtually hidden in the backstreets of the city, Honda was amazed at how many people were there. Every seat was filled- even the rickety old chairs at the back that looked like they would collapse if you so much as looked at them. And it wasn't just the number of people, it was the huge variety of people that had come; Honda watched parents shush excitable children with weary grins, fashionable students chatting in undertones, new couples holding hands and blushing, older couples studying the programme (which was really just a smaller version of the poster Honda had seen) with careworn eyes, and, of course, his fellow loners, people that hung onto the fringes of the crowd, only the slightly haggard quality to their expressions distinguishing them from the rest.
The theatre itself wasn't particularly large and it felt ready to burst with this amount of people in it. The gaudily painted arches and columns reminded Honda of a children's circus ride and the bored looking ticket sales person had clearly been itching to get away to the nearest bar. The paint was peeling off the walls in some places, the seats were fairly dilapidated and the men's loos were unspeakable. But in spite of all that Honda couldn't help but feel a thrill go through him as he glanced up to the ceiling; it was painted an inky blue and had tiny glittering lights embedded in swirls and patterns across it which gave the appearance of a dark evening sky and blinking stars- Honda felt himself smile against his will, and thought that this was the perfect place for a magic show; beauty in the midst of all this disrepair was a kind of magic. Then Honda looked back at his lap with a laugh- no more thoughts like that, he wasn't being paid anymore for them.
Before he could dwell on the slight sickening that that thought brought on, the lights dimmed and the curtains creaked their way open to reveal a lone figure standing on the stage in a single spotlight.
As the man raised his head slowly, a practised smirk painted across his face, Honda's heart skipped a beat. It was the boy from the café.
The spotlight highlighted his features much better than the streetlamps had, and Honda could see the perfectly shaped face, dark skin, golden hair (yes, those were golden earrings he'd spotted!) indigo cloak and those eyes. Honda didn't need a spotlight to recognise the light in those eyes.
As soon as the boy ('Malik Ishtar', Honda presumed) began to speak in low, velvet tones Honda knew that he wasn't alone in being captivated by his beauty (there was no other way to describe it, really); the strange power that he seemed to exude had captured his entire audience from the beginning, they were enthralled and adoring as soon as he'd finished his dramatic opening (in which he produced a dozen red roses from the purse of a woman in the front row, and somehow managed to make them explode into great bursts of coloured smoke and glitter) and throughout the rest of the show they were completely under his spell. Something about the charisma that shone from his bright smile, or his mysterious foreign beauty, or the extraordinary tricks he performed with apparent ease (levitating, he actually levitated, Honda thought with his mouth slightly ajar in astonishment) had mesmerised them all instantly, and though Honda had no doubt that that was all they were- tricks- they were still incredible to watch.
It was no wonder then that at the end of the show he received a standing ovation, roses (well, most likely cheap carnations- a lot of these people probably didn't have that much money to waste) raining down on the stage, cheers and whoops and yells for an encore- which Honda found himself joining in on, almost without realising it.
And the strangest thing was when Malik took his final sweeping bow, smiling brilliantly, Honda could have sworn that he looked right at him and shot him a tiny smirk all of his own before the curtains swung closed and hid him from view.
Honda didn't really know why he was still standing there in the freezing cold at the stage door even after all the other hopeful autograph hunters had given up- it was clear that Malik wasn't going to come out when there were crowds waiting for him. Honda's mouth twitched- the boy obviously disliked large groups of people; it was the kind of claustrophobia that Honda understood perfectly and it actually made this stranger even more fascinating to him; why would a performer, one who so clearly loved the performance and adoration of the audience, dislike crowds?
"You must have really liked the show."
Honda jerked his head up at the familiar voice and tried not to stare. Malik was leaning against the stage door, smirking flirtatiously and raising an eyebrow at Honda's sudden inability to speak.
"Yes?"
Honda swallowed. Malik was wearing only a thin coat and tight jeans to protect himself against the bitter night-time cold of December, and he hadn't removed the stage make up so that his face literally glittered in the light cast from the streetlamp.
"S-sorry?" Honda finally managed to blurt out, cursing himself mentally for sounding like an idiot.
Malik didn't seem to mind; in fact his smirk grew broader, and his eyes twinkled playfully. "I said, you must have really liked the show. To wait so long for an autograph, I mean."
Wordlessly, Honda held out the slip of paper he had held crushed in his gloved fist. "You were… amazing," he breathed, as Malik signed the paper with a flourish.
Malik smiled and handed him back the paper, which Honda took without even looking at (who was he kidding, he hadn't been waiting for an autograph!). "Thanks. Glad you enjoyed the show."
Malik glanced up the street while Honda forced himself to tear his eyes away from Malik's face (he would look like a stalker or a pervert if he kept staring, okay- just keep it cool, Hiroto…) "Hey," Malik said suddenly, interrupting Honda's determined study of his feet. "My lift home's clearly forgotten about me- want to walk with me?"
"Who could forget about you?" Honda blurted out, before covering his mouth and blushing a vivid red. "Sorry, that came out wrong, I didn't mean to say that-"
But Malik just laughed. "You're sweet, Mr…"
"Honda," Honda filled in, still flushing in mortification. "Hiroto Honda."
"Malik Ishtar," he took Honda's hand and shook it. "But you already knew that."
Honda took a deep breath and attempted a smile. "Yes, I'd love to walk with you."
Flashing him that brilliant grin that Honda had spotted on stage, Malik stepped out of the building, wrapping a scarf around his neck as he did so. "You don't need to be so nervous," he teased after they'd walked down one street in complete silence, Honda still berating himself over that slip of the tongue.
"Hmm?"
"You don't need to be nervous around me; I won't bite! Unless," he looked sideways at Honda with a smirk. "You want me to."
Honda nearly choked, which caused Malik great hilarity. "Wh-what?" he finally managed to gasp out. "I wouldn't- I don't know what- I'm not nervous!"
Malik covered his smile with a bare hand, and Honda noticed that his nails were bitten to the quicks and painted with sparkly blue nail varnish. "Nice nails," he tried to change the topic, praying to whatever deities were listening that his blush would recede at least a little- if his skin was as red as he thought it was then he must be completely scarlet, Honda thought mournfully.
Malik glanced at them with a frown. "It's a terrible habit, I know- I shouldn't bite them! Nervous habit, I guess- I paint them to try and stop me from chewing on them. I really shouldn't, not at my age."
"Your age?" Honda's lips quirked into his first real smile of the evening. "You're hardly old enough to use a phrase like that- you can't be a day over seventeen!"
"Nineteen!" Malik protested indignantly. "I'm not a kid, if that's what you're implying."
Honda chuckled- he was learning fast about Malik's mood swings. "No, I'm not implying that. I'm only twenty three, after all."
Malik looked slightly appeased. "Oh. I thought you were older- you look it." He clearly didn't mean any offence by this statement- Honda was starting to wonder if this strange magnetic boy just said anything that popped into his head, regardless of whether it was insulting or not.
"Youth doesn't survive well in the real world," Honda mused sombrely. "I think I sold mine to pay the rent."
Malik burst into a sudden bought of laughter. "You're good! What are you, a comedian?"
Honda smiled. "A poet, actually. Well, I was."
Malik looked at him in curiosity as they manoeuvred their way around a particularly large puddle. "Was?"
Honda sighed, his breath a stream of smoke in the cold air. "Dreams are like youth. No place for them in the real world." At Malik's blank expression he continued shortly, "I was fired from my job. People don't like my poems, I guess."
"I bet that's not true!" Malik said, fiercely. "You just have to find the person that likes them," he grabbed Honda's arm passionately as if to combat Honda's cynicism. "And you're wrong about dreams- I'm living mine in the 'real world'!"
"Your dream is to be a stage magician?" Honda asked, privately wondering how it was possible for one person's touch to burn through so many layers of clothing.
"No!" Malik laughed and spun away to stand with his arms held out in the centre of the small square they had arrived in. It was deserted apart from the pair of them, and was lit by a single streetlamp. "My dream is to live! Live life to its full, you know?"
As he laughed and twirled in the street, with Honda laughing along with him (how long had it been since he had last laughed like this?) the first few flakes of snow began to spiral down to the ground from the night sky.
"Look! Snow," Malik breathed, suddenly coming to a standstill and holding his palm out- waiting stock still for the snowflakes to dust his hand.
"I've seen it before," Honda shrugged, finding the weather much less interesting than the fascinated expression on the boy's face.
"I never saw it growing up. I lived in Egypt, you see," he added, as way of explanation. "And this is my first winter in the city. I still find it kind of amazing," he laughed, conscientiously.
Honda noticed an almost imperceptible shiver as the snow melted against his bare skin, and walked briskly over to the boy, pulling off his own gloves as he went. "Here," he said, handing them over. "You look like you need them more than me."
Malik reached out as if to take them, but actually grabbed Honda's hands and pulled him close. Heart hammering, Honda stared into Malik's eyes as the boy leaned up, closer and closer…
"Wait."
Honda stilled Malik by gripping his hands before they began to snake around his neck. "Why?" Malik asked, in bewilderment.
Honda couldn't voice his real complaint- how he didn't want this to be just another fling, how there was something innocent about this wonderful, strange boy (even if it was just an act) that he just couldn't bring himself to taint. "How- how do you know I'm even into men?" he said, hoping that this was a believable enough excuse. Seeing the confusion in Malik's eyes immediately dissipate he knew that it had been believed.
"How do I know?" Malik teased, in an almost incredulous tone. "Maybe from the way you've been staring at my ass half this time?"
Honda grinned in spite of himself, and Malik pulled one of his hands out of Honda's grip long enough to slip a pair of cool fingers under his chin and raise his head to meet his violet gaze. "I'm a big boy, Honda; I can take care of myself. And I know what I want," he spoke gently, as if Honda was the younger one. "I want to live my life- don't you? Live in the moment and embrace your freedom. Live with me."
Honda smiled, and ducked his head down just far enough to kiss Malik on lips still sticky with stage lipgloss. The gloves he had taken off fell to the ground between them as Malik wrapped his arms around Honda's neck and pulled himself up onto tiptoe; Honda cupped Malik's face with his hands and closed his eyes.
The snow may have continued to drift down around them, and the city may have continued its perpetual hum of life in the background, but for that moment Honda really believed that time stopped just for them.
The next morning Honda blinked his eyes open to the single shaft of bright light streaming through the blinds into the attic studio that he rented for as little money as he could charm the landlady into charging him.
The next thought he had was much more pleasant- there's someone asleep next to me.
Honda wasn't a stranger to one night stands- in fact he was extremely well acquainted with the concept. He liked them perfectly well; going from boy to girl to boy to girl without a care in the world- he didn't want a 'relationship', not after what had happened the last time. But he had to admit that he did miss waking up in bed with someone that had actually stayed the night and who he actually wanted to spend the morning after with.
Turning slightly so that he didn't disturb the boy next to him he studied Malik's face. His hair was spread out on the pillow and he was curled up against Honda's side sleeping with an almost beatific expression. He traced one finger down Malik's cheekbone and smiled- the boy really was beautiful. Malik must have felt the touch because he yawned slightly, and cracked open one eyelid. "I should warn you now, I'm not a morning person," he whispered, hoarsely.
Honda grinned and wormed his way out of Malik's grip. "Then you won't like it if I do this!"
He tugged the blinds open to allow the full force of the morning sun to pour into the room; Malik groaned and covered his face with the duvet with a muffled yell that Honda guessed was something along the lines of: "You're a monster!"
Honda smirked, and crawled back onto the bed to pull the sheet away from Malik's face. "Morning."
"Morning," Malik replied, still sounding slightly grumpy but giving a reluctant smile as Honda dotted a kiss on his cheek.
Honda stayed silent for a few more minutes, wrapping his arm around Malik's shoulders. "You stayed the night," he said at last, conversationally.
"Huh?" Malik raised himself up on his elbows and blinking blearily.
"You stayed the night," Honda repeated.
"Yeah… So?" Malik asked, running a hand through his tousled hair and making a face as his fingers caught on the tangles.
"Well…"Honda swallowed, suddenly having no idea how to put it. "I mean, does that mean-"
Malik was watching him with amusement. "Do you want me to put you out of your misery?"
"Please."
Malik continued to comb his hair with his fingers. "Honda, would you like to have breakfast with me? After you've brought me a mirror, of course."
Honda ducked his head to hide his smile and stood to fetch Malik the cracked mirror from his tiny bathroom. "Yes."
Malik flashed him a grin. "Good. Now, if you say you have a mirror and coffee, I'm afraid I might have to marry you. Oh, and Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Malik."
Over the next few weeks, Honda found that he was spending more and more time with his new boyfriend (although he never would have called Malik that while the boy was around; he hated the word, saying it made him sound 'old'). When he told his friends about him they acted exactly the way he had expected; Anzu cooed and immediately started going on about 'We must have a couples night!' while Yuugi looked slightly horrified at this prospect, Jou teased him like crazy (clearly he wasn't too old for chanting 'Honda's got a boooooy-friend!' with utter glee) and Otogi… Well, Otogi had stood with a fixed smile and left the room with a hastily thought up excuse, muttering a short 'congratulations' on his way out.
The reason his friends were so happy for him was obvious to them all; since he had broken up with Otogi two years ago (or rather; had his heart broken by Otogi. The memory of walking in on him wrapped around that rich bastard, Seto Kaiba, still hurt even now) he hadn't had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter. He could tell by the gentle relief in Anzu's eyes and the genuine happiness that Jou expressed in one awkward hug that they were truly happy for him- and it only made his heart swell even more.
Worried slightly about how they would react to Malik (and how Malik would react to them; even he could admit that his friends were a bit of a handful) he didn't even broach the idea of their meeting until the morning of New Years Eve.
They were sitting in a tiny café, both pretending to study the menu and both knowing that they would eventually order the cheapest items on there (Honda had soon discovered that despite having a relatively regular income trickling in from his magic shows, Malik was completely penniless. Where all the money went, Honda had no idea) when Honda asked, nervous in spite of himself, "What are you doing for New Years?"
Malik fiddled with a sugar packet and shrugged. "No idea. I mean, I could go and spend it with a few friends- but-" He broke off with an uncharacteristic blush.
"What?" Honda pressed.
"I'd- I'd rather spend it with you," he muttered. Honda grinned and slid his hand over the table to entwine their fingers together.
"I'd like to spend it with you, too. That's why I was wondering… whether you would like to come to a small dinner my friends are having?" At Malik's raised eyebrow he rushed on, now quite positive that the idea would be rejected. "It's just that they're all desperate to meet you, and I said I would go ages ago, and they're all really great- I'm pretty sure you'll like them-"
Malik interrupted him by throwing the sugar packet at his head. "You're rambling. Yes, of course I'd like to come! I want to meet these friends that you're always talking about."
Honda sighed in relief and, ignoring the scandalised stare of the haughty waitress, leaned over the table and kissed him.
x-x-x
"Okay, just don't worry if they interrogate you- they're probably just as nervous as you are-"
"Honda," Malik laughed, interrupting his flow. "I'm not nervous. You are, but I don't think anyone else is! Look, I'm sure it'll all be fine."
Honda gulped and rapped the knocker on the door before he could change his mind. Yuugi and Anzu lived on the other side of town to him, and the apartment they shared was much more expensive than he could ever afford; he could see Malik eyeing the building with an impressed look.
"You clearly have rich friends!" he whispered. Honda shrugged, shifting his weight from foot to foot with nerves. "I guess. But remember that Anzu has pretty steady job with fair pay-"
"Dancer with the New York Ballet," Malik supplied. "And Yuugi is a very well paid games designer." He kissed Honda impishly on the cheek, "I did listen, you know, when you told me about your friends! Stop worrying, love. Now, just point out that bitch that cheated on you when we go in and I'll be happy to show him what he's missing."
Before Honda could beg, weakly, that Malik not do this the door was opened by a smiling Anzu. "Come in!"
The next few hours were a whirl for Honda, and probably even more so for Malik- although he dealt with all the new faces and questions very well. Yuugi and Anzu were alright (although Honda could see them studying Malik very shrewdly when they thought he wasn't looking) but he hadn't really been bothered about the couple; they were both quite naïve about love, having gotten together when they were seventeen and never looking back, and would therefore rarely question Honda's choice in partners.
Jou was a bigger worry (he was far too over protective of all his friends) but he seemed to take to Malik immediately- Honda was pretty sure that the beer Malik magically produced from under his jacket on meeting him might have had something to do with this. Jou's little sister, who had just arrived back from her school in England, was equally entranced by Malik; but then again Honda knew that Shizuka would probably be sweet to an axe murderer, so this wasn't saying much.
As for Otogi- well, Honda didn't really care what he thought- even he seemed impressed. That was the overpowering vibe Honda seemed to get from them all, actually, and he didn't know whether to be mildly offended when a slightly tipsy Anzu whispered to him loudly, "So how did you get a guy like that?"
Honda was extremely pleased to realise that all his friends really liked Malik, and that all his worrying had been for nothing- the boy's charm apparently worked on everyone.
"Well? You were so worried about me meeting them- have I passed the test?" Malik murmured, slipping under Honda's arm as they all crowded around the TV to start the countdown- "Ten, Nine, Eight-"
"With flying colours," Honda smiled. Malik smirked and kissed him as the shout rang out and the fireworks exploded on the screen: "Happy New Year!"
The 'honeymoon period', as Anzu jokingly labelled it- that bliss that lasts for a matter of weeks or months after couples got together, making them blind to the faults of their partner- didn't seem to be fading for Honda and Malik, even two months later.
Honda just felt better and better every day- it was as if Malik was a drug that he just couldn't get enough of. Or medicine. Yes, that was a better word. Honda suddenly had his passion for life back.
And it was one drizzly, grey February morning that he woke up and knew something was different.
Immediately, he shifted out of Malik's arms and staggered, still half asleep, to the desk that had lain unused for so long. He hesitantly picked up the biro that had been tossed angrily down four months ago when he'd received that phone call ("We're terribly sorry, but you just don't have the right voice for our publishers-") and fished a sheet of crumpled paper out of the drawer.
When Malik sleepily dragged himself out of bed, dressed only in Honda's old t-shirt, to peer over his shoulder half an hour later and ask, "What are you doing?" Honda answered with a real smile of relief.
"I'm writing. I'm writing again."
To which Malik responded by kissing him on the cheek and murmuring something along the lines of 'I'm glad you're inspired again, but it's far too early for this' and promptly tottered back into bed.
And Honda smiled, knowing that though Malik might not understand it he had been the one to revive Honda's dream.
"Otogi."
"Honda."
Honda studied the man in front of him with interest- Otogi certainly knew how to bag them, and thanks to Kaiba was now decked out in clothes that even Honda could see were designer. He probably had a brand new sports car parked outside the shop as well- Honda couldn't help but hope that the March rain pounding on the supermarket roof would ruin the paintwork. "You look great."
Otogi smiled a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I am great. You? How's that little boyfriend of yours- Marik, was it?"
"Malik," Honda corrected. "He's fine, thank you."
Honda was suddenly desperate to get away from Otogi and his cold eyes and the way the air between them virtually sparked with tension and unspoken wishes (he knew Otogi still blamed him for what had happened- but he hadn't meant to drive him away, he really hadn't). "I should go- Malik's cooking, he needs this stuff…" He gestured helplessly at the bag of groceries on his arm and began to walk towards the door.
"I shouldn't imagine Malik needs any of the things in that bag." Otogi's scornful voice stopped Honda in his tracks; he turned on the spot and shot him a suspicious look.
"What?"
"I'm saying that Malik probably doesn't want to eat that stuff- there's only one thing he really needs," Otogi finished, distastefully.
Honda stared at him. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Otogi was looking at him almost piteously. "Oh Honda, you must know…"
"Know what?" Honda asked, now becoming rather angry. "Otogi, cut the crap-"
"It's nothing," Otogi interrupted, resignedly. "I'm sure it's nothing." He turned away but looked back over his shoulder to Honda, still standing there with confusion written all over his face. "But I'll bet you any money you like that Malik won't be hungry- or cooking for that matter- when you get home."
x-x-x
When Honda arrived back at his apartment Malik was stretched out on the sofa flicking between TV channels.
"What happened to dinner?" Honda laughed, uneasily.
Malik turned his head and smiled, lazily. "Oh, I wasn't hungry. We can always get takeaway if you are?"
Honda didn't say anything, but the unease he had felt on his way home settled in his stomach and stubbornly refused to budge.
It wasn't until April was nearly over that Honda ventured the question that had been preying on his mind for some time.
"Malik, where does all your money go?"
Malik froze for a split second before shooting him an easy smile. "Oh, you know. Here and there. I'm terrible with money, I spend it like water- you know that!"
Honda sighed, pushing the piles of bills they had accumulated over the past months towards Malik. "All I know is that it's only my part time job at the supermarket that is paying for us! I mean, I'm getting a little money from when my poems get accepted in magazines- but we both know that's not often. But you- you've been doing sell out shows for the last month! Malik," he leaned over and cupped Malik's face in his hands. "Where is all the money?"
Malik shrugged him off with a suddenly obstinacy. "A lot of it… goes to my brother. I owe him money."
Honda pressed him for more information, but Malik completely clammed up and refused to explain further; finally, after about ten minutes of being questioned, he stood up in a fury and stormed out of the room yelling, "Don't I get any privacy anymore?"
Honda buried his head in his hands and silently cursed Malik's mood swings.
(That's all they were after all. Just a few mood swings, nothing important.)
Even Honda couldn't block out reality with thoughts like that for much longer.
Life with Malik was rapidly becoming the only life that Honda ever wanted. Although the waiting outside the theatres that his partner performed in was slowly becoming more bearable as they drifted into May and the weather grew milder, Honda would still have done it even if it had been freezing; just so that he could watch Malik on stage. He loved the expression on Malik's face when he took his bows, he loved the magic tricks he amazed everyone there with (he still refused to spill the secrets of his trade, promising Honda with a smirk that maybe he'd tell him one day), he loved the passion and fire that ignited in his beautiful eyes when he performed.
And the amazing thing was that Honda still wanted to spend all of his time outside the theatre with Malik too. Malik had virtually moved in by this point, and it was now more than a comfort to Honda to go to sleep and wake up next to Malik. It was a need.
They lived simply- neither having the money to sustain too decadent a lifestyle- but they didn't give up on the bohemian living that Malik (and, to a certain extent, Honda too) adored. Even on the nights where Honda wanted to stay in, Malik often went out to the clubs alone- joking that he needed his 'fix' of the city's nightlife.
Honda could admit that there were problems with their relationship; he couldn't help but worry when Malik didn't get home until unspeakable hours and slept in till way past noon. He worried how Malik seemed to live in a never ending circle of drinking and partying, and then he would sleep, wake up and drink and party some more.
And he worried about the mood swings, the weight loss (Malik just didn't eat anymore) and the massive black circles under his eyes that by now no amount of make up could conceal.
He worried because he loved this wonderful, addictive boy, even though he knew that he and Malik were too different- something would break eventually, or someone…
It started on the 30th May, when there was a knock at the door.
Honda was alone (Malik having stormed off in one of his moods to god knows where) and working, when he heard a timid rap on the door and a "May I come in?"
Honda didn't recognise the voice, so he stood and opened the door in curiosity. Standing outside was a boy that looked about Malik's age dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his white hair reaching his shoulders and a nervous expression in his brown eyes.
"I'm terribly sorry to intrude, but I really need to talk to you. You're Honda, right?"
Honda nodded, completely non-plussed, as the boy glanced back over his shoulder, now looking even more anxious.
"My name is Ryou Bakura and I'm a friend of Malik's. May I come in?"
Honda studied him with suspicion and blocked the door with his arm. "What's this about?"
"Malik's in trouble, Honda," Ryou pleaded. "I don't know who else to go to."
Honda let him in immediately, slamming the door behind him.
x-x-x
"You probably know what this is about," Ryou began, quietly. He clutched the cup of coffee Honda had given him, and stared into the dark liquid as if afraid to meet Honda's gaze.
"No idea," Honda said with a frown. "Malik never mentioned anything to me- he never even mentioned you."
Ryou smiled briefly. "He wouldn't. I'm his best friend, but he'd still forget me in an instant if he thought I'd damage his chances with someone. I'll bet he didn't even tell you about his family."
"He mentioned he had a brother- I just assumed the rest of them were all still in Egypt."
"They are- at least, his elder brother and sister are. His parents are dead. It's his twin that he might have mentioned- Marik Ishtar."
"Malik and Marik?" Honda asked, incredulously. "There's no way parents would call their children that- that's too cruel!"
He had intended it as a joke, but Ryou immediately winced and muttered: "You have no idea."
There was a slight pause before Ryou swallowed and continued on. "Malik's mother died when he was born. His father… Well, his father gave him those scars on his back."
Honda's mouth nearly dropped open; he'd always believed the excuse Malik had fed him about the thin lines covering his back- that he'd had a nasty accident with a barbed wire fence when he was younger. "I had no idea…"
Ryou's mouth was set in a thin line. "Malik won't like it that I told you- he hates talking about his childhood. It's not what I came here to talk about- but you need to know about his brother. Marik didn't deal with the abuse like Malik did- Malik tries to forget by living his new freedom to the full, but Marik… Marik hates."
Ryou breathed the final word and Honda felt a sudden chill run down his spine.
"There's no other word for it; he hates, he hates everyone. He hates his father, he hates his mother for abandoning them, he hates his sister and elder brother for what he sees as not looking out for them, and he even hates Malik for trying to forget. I know it's not an excuse for what he's done, but-" Ryou broke off and Honda saw with a rush of fear that there were tears sparkling in his eyes.
"Ryou, what has he done? What has he done to Malik?"
Ryou swallowed and carried on talking, very quietly now. "Marik is a criminal, Honda. He's not a powerful one, or anyone particularly important, but he's dangerous. He's supplied with drugs like cocaine and heroin from a gang based in Columbia, I think, and sells it on to street dealers. He's in charge of the stash location- he's the middle man of the operation, but it means he has access to these drugs all the time."
Honda stared at Ryou with a sinking feeling. "And? Malik's not involved in this, is he?"
Ryou looked at him with the same pitying expression Otogi had worn that day in the supermarket. "No. He doesn't have anything to do with buying or selling or even hiding the drugs, but… Oh Honda, I really don't want to be the one to tell you, but-"
"Malik is doing cocaine," Honda interjected, numbly. It wasn't even a question- he had known it deep down for so long, he just didn't want to admit it to himself.
"Yes. He's been doing it for about a year now."
Honda groaned and buried his head in his hands. All the time they had been together, and he hadn't even noticed. Oh god, what if Malik had been high that night- their first night, was that the reason he'd ever been interested in Honda at all-
As if Ryou could tell what he was thinking, the boy leant forward and placed a hand gently on his knee. "Hey. None of this is your fault. And just so you know Malik really cares about you. He talks about you all the time!"
Honda attempted a weak smile before asking Ryou: "Was that what you wanted to tell me?"
Ryou hesitated. "Not entirely. Honda, I'm really worried about him. It's Marik, it's all Marik- he- he-" Ryou broke off as if he couldn't bear the words that were coming out of his mouth. "He supplies Malik with the drugs… For a hefty price."
Honda's shock was rapidly becoming anger. "He gives his own brother cocaine? Is he mad?"
Ryou shook his head. "I- I don't know. My brother has been friends with Marik for a long time, and sometimes he can be perfectly fine but at other times… Look, Malik's run up a massive debt with Marik- and the gang he works for are starting to get edgy about the fact that he hasn't paid up."
"But all of his wages go into paying his brother off!" Honda insisted. "There's never any money left after, I know!"
"I know, but Malik's buying this stuff in huge quantities and it costs a bucket load- he owes about $8,000."
There was a sudden noise outside the door; Ryou jumped, although he relaxed when he saw the landlady's cat streak past. "I'm sorry, Honda, but I've really got to go. It's dangerous for us both that I told you this- please don't get involved with the gang!"
Honda rubbed at his face feeling desperate. "If you didn't want me to interfere then why did you tell me all this?"
Ryou stood and walked to the door, only hesitating when he was half way out. "I want you to get Malik to stop. You're the only one he might listen to, Honda. He's taking too much. If he carries on like this he'll overdose. He might die, Honda."
Honda buried his face in his hands again and by the time he looked up Ryou was gone, with nothing but the untouched cup of coffee to show that he had ever been there at all.
x-x-x
"Hello? Honda? Are you there?"
Malik's call echoed through the dark apartment unanswered so the boy threw down his keys and picked up his phone to call Honda; it was strange, because he hadn't said he was going out-
"Malik."
Malik jumped with shock; Honda had been sitting stock still in the armchair by the window.
"Hey, why are you sitting in the dark?" Malik asked softly, walking over and crouching down next to the man. Before Honda could reply Malik picked up the cup of coffee on the table in front of him; "And your drink's stone cold! What's happened? Is something wrong?"
Honda turned slowly towards him and Malik spotted with dread the dried tear tracks that streaked his face. "Your little friend paid me a visit today," Honda finally forced out; slowly, hoarsely. "Ryou."
Malik stood quickly, still clutching the coffee cup, and fixed his eyes on Honda's face with growing horror. "What did he tell you? It's not true, none of it- he's making it up-"
Honda's gaze dropped from his face and Malik followed it down, only to realise that Honda was now staring at his hands.
"You're shaking."
Malik could only watch as the coffee slopped around inside the cup while his hands shook uncontrollably.
"Malik." He looked up to find Honda had stood and was covering his hands with his own. "Malik, I don't know what to do. I love you and I don't know how to help you."
And Malik was shocked to find that he was now shaking all over, and there must be something wrong with his eyes because he couldn't see, everything was so blurry, and his cheeks were suddenly wet- and all he could do was fall into Honda's arms and hope that somehow they could figure it out.
"I need $8,000."
Jou chuckled and turned the page of his magazine. "Don't we all?"
"No, Jou- I really need this money. Malik's in trouble," Honda pulled a chair up to his friend's desk and tried not to smash his fist into the wood with frustration.
"What kind of trouble?" Jou asked suspiciously, closing up his magazine.
Honda hesitated. "Do you have time?"
Jou shrugged, peering around his empty office. "My boss isn't here- I've got time."
x-x-x
When Honda had finished relating the story (with some parts carefully edited- he wasn't about to go spreading his lover's childhood trauma around, even to his best friend) Jou was hanging onto his every word with his mouth slightly ajar.
"Let me get this straight; you're dating a guy that owes $8,000 to a drugs trafficking gang, is dangerously addicted to crack and who lied to you about this for six months? And you want to help him? Honda, I know this is going to sound cold- but for your own good, just throw the kid into rehab and forget the whole thing- these drugs smugglers are seriously dangerous!"
"I know that! It's just-" Honda broke off, and Jou shook his head in irritation.
"Just what? Face facts, will you- this boy is going to get you killed!"
"I love him, Jou," Honda said, and Jou stopped his tirade immediately and stared at him with a slightly exasperated look.
"Really?"
"Yes, Jou. As completely mad as that is, I really do."
Jou sighed and picked up the phone. "Then you know who we have to call." On seeing Honda's reluctant scowl Jou snapped, "You know anyone else who has $8,000 lying around to spare? No. So if you really love this guy then you're going to have to swallow your damn pride and beg."
Ignoring Honda's disgusted expression at his last sentence Jou quickly dialled and pressed the speakerphone button. The dial tone rang out three times, before:
"Hello? Ryuuji Otogi speaking."
"Hi, it's Jou. Otogi, I've got a problem- a really big one."
"Do you need me to help?"
"… Actually, I was sort of hoping to speak to Kaiba about it. Can you get us a meeting?"
"Well, I think so, but- hang on, who's 'us'?"
Honda groaned mentally at the thought of what he had to do before forcing out through gritted teeth: "It's Honda. I need his help."
KaibaCorp was just as impressive as Honda had expected it to be; a massive, towering building near the centre of the city, with the huge initials 'KC' emblazoned at the pinnacle of the building, that glinted as the June sunshine reflected off them.
"Bit over the top, isn't it?" Honda had grumbled while Jou just shot him an amused look and pushed him through the glass doors. They had succeeded in getting through Reception with ease- apparently this 'meeting' had been arranged on highest authority, and they were bowed through all the security checks with such deference that Honda realised they must be down as 'personal friends of Seto Kaiba'. When the receptionist actually offered to escort them up to the office personally, Honda grudgingly thought to himself that maybe Otogi having this sort of connection wasn't too bad after all.
They'd arrived right on time but when they walked into the office Kaiba still greeted them by glancing critically at the clock and saying: "Look, I'm very busy so can we please make this quick?"
Honda had gritted his teeth and let Jou do the talking- which was a sign of how much Jou wanted to help him, because he made no bones about the fact that he disliked Kaiba as much as Honda did himself.
When Jou had relayed the entire story Kaiba was studying Honda with new interest but without pity- Honda was actually glad for this, he was sick of people feeling sorry for him.
"So I assume you want me to lend you the $8,000?" he said, smoothly. "I also assume I would be paid back in full."
Honda fidgeted with his hands, suddenly feeling incredibly out of place in the presence of a man that could hand over a couple of grand just like that. "I know it will be difficult," he answered. "I don't exactly earn that much- but I'm a man of my word, and if I say I will pay you back then I will, no matter how long it takes."
Seto leaned back in his chair, still completely expressionless. "Ryuuji tells me you're honest. I believe him."
Jou's face lit up and Honda suddenly felt a huge sense of relief- if Kaiba gave him the money then he could free Malik from debt and they could concentrate on getting him some help…
"But I'm not going to lend you money that goes straight into the pockets of drug dealers."
Honda felt like the pit of his stomach had just dropped out. "Excuse me?"
Seto shrugged. "I'm sorry Honda, but this isn't legal. I don't want to be associated with something like this. However," he leaned forward with a sudden glint in his eyes. "I will make you a deal."
Honda swallowed. "What kind of a deal?"
"I'll make sure that you're freed from your debt and that the Ishtar boy has the best medical care that money can buy, if you manage to lead my men to this drugs stash."
"What?" Honda asked, slightly surprised. He hadn't expected that. "Why would you want that?"
"Alright Honda, I'll be frank. You are aware of what my company sells?"
"Uh… Cards and toys. Games, things like that."
Kaiba closed his eyes briefly; whether in exasperation or not Honda couldn't tell. "Something like that. But you know what it sold when my father was CEO?"
"Weapons," interrupted Jou, helpfully. "He sold weapons and stuff."
"Yes. Anyway, I have done everything in my power to separate what I do now from what my father did- think of it as father-son rivalry, if you will."
More like father-son hatred; Honda knew perfectly well, along with nearly everyone else in the city, that Seto Kaiba had not gotten along well with his father at all, taking over the company by force (and by the fact that he was fiercely intelligent) at a very young age.
"Some of my father's… clients, I suppose you would call them," Kaiba wrinkled his nose in distaste at this point. "Were illegal weapons dealers who paid him a lot of money for the stuff, and I remember one particular gang also sold drugs to dealers in New York."
Honda shrugged. "I don't think I follow-"
"This gang was based in Columbia, Honda. And believe me, they put up an almighty fuss when I took over and stopped dealing in weapons." Kaiba's lip curled, and Honda caught a frightening glimpse of the man that his enemies faced. "They called me a foolish child and threatened Mokuba; I don't intend to let them get away with something like that."
Honda didn't have to ask further, even though this deal may seem uncharacteristically petty on Kaiba's part, because he knew only too well what people would do for the burning, all consuming need for revenge.
"Kaiba, if I lead you to this stash then it doesn't necessarily mean you'll find the leaders, they're better organised than that!"
Kaiba's eyes gleamed once more. "Leave it to me. All I need you to do is give me the name of the hideout, that's all." He raised his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
Honda was about to raise his own to shake Kaiba's, when he thought of something. "This will mean Marik Ishtar will go to jail."
"Yes," Kaiba shrugged. "What of it?"
Honda clenched his fist angrily. "I can't sell out Malik's brother! He'll hate me- apart from anything that's who he gets his fix from, he'd have to go cold turkey if the dealer gets busted."
Jou raised his eyebrows. "Honda, don't you want him to quit?"
"Of course I do! But this is really sudden, he won't be able to cope- what if he can't deal with it and gets sick…"
Kaiba stuck his hand firmly out. "Honda, do we have a deal?"
Honda stared at it- if he didn't he would be out of options, there would be no money, he would be left to deal with a dangerous drugs trafficker; if he did, then would he be betraying Malik?
I'm doing this for his own good, Honda told himself and willed himself to believe it as he shook Kaiba's hand.
"I'll get the information to you by tomorrow."
Malik was shaking much worse than usual. That was the first thing Honda noticed when he arrived home that night to the dark apartment- he hadn't paid the electricity Honda remembered, dully. Stuff like that didn't seem to matter much anymore
"Hello."
"Honda!" Malik whipped his head around and Honda noticed that his hair was matted and beads of perspiration were rolling down his neck. "Honda, where have you been?"
Before Honda could answer, noticing with dread the familiar paranoia (now he knew what all these signs meant he could see that they'd always been there, why hadn't he figured it out earlier…) Malik continued on, crossing his arms in front of his chest and clutching his upper arms protectively. "Honda, I need cash, I really need money- they won't give me any if I don't pay-"
Honda immediately crossed the room and knelt down by Malik, stroking his hair gently. "It's okay, calm down. When did you last take-"
He couldn't bring himself to name it, but Malik replied nonetheless. "Two days ago."
Honda hesitated and laid a soothing hand on his arm. "Malik, I think you're in withdrawal."
Malik nodded, his panicked wide eyes lit up by the moonlight that streamed through the window. "I need some, Honda, I need some…"
"Malik," Honda answered, cold dread weighing down on him like lead. "Tell me the address of the hideout and I'll go and get you the drugs."
Malik seemed to stop shivering for a second and turned his piercing eyes on Honda as if he knew he was lying. "You'll… You'll get me them? What about the money? Did you manage to sort that out?"
Honda closed his eyes for a second. "Yes, Malik. It's all taken care of. Just trust me."
Malik stared at him for a moment more. "You'll just go there and get the drugs? They'll let you in- I told them about you. You promise? You can't tell anyone about it, Honda, you can't tell!"
"I won't tell," Honda replied, soothingly. "Trust me."
Malik leaned his head on Honda's shoulder and Honda suddenly realised how ashen grey he had become, even with his tanned skin. "I trust you," he murmured.
And as he scribbled the address down Honda suddenly found that telling himself 'It's for his own good' wasn't working anymore, and the plain fact was that he was lying to someone he loved and this was going to change everything.
"My brother has been arrested."
Honda looked up to see Malik standing in the doorway, eyes burning in anger. "My brother has been arrested, and the gang's been exposed, and it's all over the news and the drugs are gone."
Honda stood to face him. "I couldn't let you do this to yourself, Malik," he said, quietly.
"You did this."
"Yes. I made a deal with Kaiba."
"You did this!"
"I'm sorry-"
"You betrayed me!" Malik's tone was fevered, and suddenly tears were spilling down his face as if he couldn't stop them and he was shouting at Honda and then he was just coughing and coughing, clutching the back of the sofa as he hacked up black phlegm.
"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," Honda repeated the words like a prayer as he rocked Malik back and forth- he'd read enough about the first withdrawal signs to know that these coughing fits and mood swings weren't uncommon, but god he hadn't expected it to be so scary…
"Malik, we need to get you some help. I'm taking you to the hospital."
It was the fact that Malik didn't even protest anymore that scared Honda more than anything.
x-x-x
The doctor that they met in the hospital inspected Malik immediately before taking Honda aside and scribbling a few things down.
"He's going through severe withdrawal- he must have stopped using very abruptly. I'm prescribing him bromocriptine to work on his dopamine system- it should decrease the cocaine craving, and calm him down," he added at Honda's blank expression. "I don't want to give him any more medicine than that otherwise he'll become too dependant on it, but if he becomes really agitated then come back and I'll prescribe some propanolol. But Mr Honda, I really think there is only one course of action to be taken here."
Honda nodded, and glanced back to where Malik sat on the examination table with his head in his hands. "Rehab."
The doctor sighed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It will be difficult, I know, but he's going to have a very difficult couple of months. The next week especially; he's going to experience even worse mood swings, he'll experience insomnia, loss of appetite and extreme cravings. He'll lash out- if you take care of him by yourself he will lash out at you. He'll end up hating you."
Honda bit his lip. "He'll hate me if I send him into rehab." It'll be like I'm locking him away, Honda thought. I'd be taking away his freedom. I'd be taking away his life- his dream.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think you have a choice in this. He needs professional care. Might I suggest the rehabilitation unit at this hospital?"
Honda ran his hands through his hair. "Okay, okay, this is all a bit fast… Can I have a moment alone with him, please?
When the doctor had left them alone together Honda wrapped an arm around Malik's shoulders, but before he could say anything Malik spoke in a dull tone: "You want me to go into rehab, don't you."
Honda didn't say anything and just pressed his lips to Malik's hair.
"You're shutting me away. You're giving up."
Honda took a long shuddering breath and pressed a hand to his eyes as if he could rub away the tears he felt pricking at the back of his eyelids. "I can't take care of you properly, Malik-"
"I want you to go." He turned those beautiful, haunting eyes on Honda and spat out the words again. "I want you to leave."
Wordlessly, Honda picked up his coat and walked to the door because he could read the message Malik had meant only too well. You have betrayed me and that isn't something I can forgive.
"I'll call to see how you're doing, Malik. And I'll wait for you. Know that."
And with that he was gone- striding through the hospital and trying to concentrate on something anything else to distract himself from the fact that he had lost.
Six Months Later
"Can I get you anything else, hun?"
"No, thank you."
Honda stared out of the grimy window of the café and thought, wryly, how far he had come since he'd last sat here. He'd thrown himself into work- finally starting to get real offers from big name magazines- to fill the gaping hole that losing Malik had left. His friends had been worried about him for a long time, until Otogi (of all people) had just told them simply, "He's suffering from a broken heart. Happens to us all- let him get over it the way he wants to."
So Honda came back to the café on Christmas Eve (he noted that they were playing exactly the same music- didn't they have anything else?) telling himself that he just wanted a cheap cup of coffee, even though he could actually afford better now, but really hoping in his heart of hearts that maybe he would see him again- it was the same place, the same time...
But he looked across the street and the wall was clear of the one, familiar poster and this year there would be no chance meeting-
"Honda."
Honda glanced around and nearly choked. "Malik?"
The boy standing at the door smiled tiredly. "I thought you might be here." As he walked towards him Honda studied the boy critically, checking for the signs that he'd missed last time…
"You don't need to worry," Malik said, amused, as he slid into the booth opposite Honda. "I'm completely clean. I finished rehab but I'm still going regularly to support groups. I haven't touched the stuff in six months." He smiled, darkly. "Anything else- would you like my full medical report?"
Honda grinned; at least the same sense of humour hadn't gone. "No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You look well."
Malik smiled. "Thanks."
It wasn't a lie; Malik really did look much better. Instead of skinny he was slim, his skin was a golden tan and his hair was no longer limp and straggly. Even his eyes, which Honda hadn't thought could become more beautiful, had a new life in them- a real life this time, not the artificial one he had got from the drugs.
Malik twisted a lock of his hair round a finger. "I'm sorry, Honda," he suddenly said, much to Honda's surprise. "I shouldn't have treated you like that."
"It's alright. I understand why you did," Honda shrugged; he wouldn't bring up how much Malik had hurt him, because he couldn't do that to someone already so fragile.
Malik would never admit it, but he could break so easily. Maybe that was why he had turned to drugs in the first place. But enough- he wouldn't think like that anymore, Malik had sorted himself out.
"Malik, I don't suppose there's a chance-"
Malik stopped him by raising a hand. "I'm not getting back into a relationship now, Honda. I need to focus on the rehab- you understand that, right?"
Honda nodded. "I was actually just going to ask if you wanted to have a cup of coffee?"
"Oh," Malik blushed, and put a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. Yes, that'd be great."
Honda waved to the bored waitress and she brought over another cup. Well, a cup of coffee was better than nothing. He smiled and raised his glass to Malik who smiled weakly in return.
It was a start.
Well, I hope you enjoyed it! :)
I just want to say that as this is such a serious issue I really did my research (having very little personal experience with drug abuse); the medical drugs I mentioned are both used to deal with cocaine withdrawal, even though there is no actual medicine that can cure addiction to it. All the information about the 'gangs' is taken from various websites with info about the drugs smuggling ring in New York- obviously I did use a fair bit of creative license. If you have any questions about drug addiction/trafficking gangs then ask in a review and I will happily direct you to the sources I have taken my information from.
For more information on Cocaine withdrawal (and how to spot the symptoms): www. cocainerehabtreatment . com (remove spaces)
Anyway, the reason Honda was a poet? Because I'm sick of writing him as a policeman/bodyguard/something along those lines. I think he's more deep than we realise! ;D
Thanks for reading- this story was a bit of a monster! I wish you all a Merry (belated!) Christmas, a Happy New Year and I hope you all have a great 2011! :D
Bookworm