Yet another part of fanfic100 XD This one is gonna be a series of one-shots that may or may not link together, all of which have a love poem in them. Mainly because I was stuck for ideas and I had a lil book I bought years ago full of love poems so I thought I might as well use it.
This one is for the prompt Hours.
Enjoy!
Madness
It was one of those rare days when both of the 'psychotic' darker halves just sat (or lay) in each other's company. Today it was a warm, nearly melting July morning, and they were sat in the shade of a tree in Ryou's back garden.
Marik had his back against the tree, legs sprawled out in front of him, Bakura lying half asleep between them. He idly played with the other's off-white locks, thinking about something Malik had forced him to read the other day; a book of love poems. It was times like this that he hated being able to remember most of the things he read, because he couldn't get the damn things out of his mind. But to amuse himself, Marik was changing some of the words to make them fit him and Bakura (basically, changing she's to he's).
"It's not, Bakura, in our power," The blonde began, making the white-haired boy crack open a lazy eye, "To say how long our love will last. It may be we within this hour may lose the joys we now do taste. The blessed, that immortal be, from change in love are only free."
"What are you on?" Bakura asked, gazing up at his grinning partner, "Psycho."
"Then since we mortal lovers are, ask not how long our love will last," Marik continued as he stroked Bakura's neck, "But while it does, let us take care each minute with pleasure passed. Were it not madness to deny to live because we are sure to die?"
Bakura sat up, turning to almost straddle the Egyptian's hips. "You, my psycho, are pure and simpole stark raving mad." He told him, smiling fondly.
"Yeah, blame Malik. He created me." Marik retorted, leaning in to lick the other's cheek.
R+R, you'll get cookies!
The poem I used is by George Etherege.
It is not, Celia, in our power
To say how long our love will last;
It may be we within this hour
May lose those joys we now do taste:
The blessed, that immortal be,
From change in love are only free.
Then since we mortal lovers are,
Ash not how long our love will last;
But while it does, let us take care
Each minute be with pleasure passed:
Were it not madness to deny
To live because we're sure to die?