Hope in Faith is a Backward Way of Thinking
Pairing: Thiefshipping (Bakura/Malik)
Chapter Rating: T
Warning: This is a morally unsympathetic fanfiction. Expect lemons, shotacon, rape, violence, swearing, and death. Among other things I don't want to put warnings for in fear of spoiling the story. Please do not read any further if you're easily offended. I will not be help responsible for upsetting you with what I've written if you've disregarded my warning.
Author's Note: The first bit of this story is somewhat based on (moreso just inspired by) the doujinshi "Color of Life", so if it looks familiar, that's why. I haven't really sat down to write anything in a good long time and I'm a bit rusty. I'll do my best to keep this updated, but I'm lazy, so expect them sparadically. And um, try to brace for typos and minor grammatical errors; I have no beta reader.
Disclaimer: -insert smartass message about how I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! and what I'd do if I did here-
In the heat of the midsummer night, the frantic cries of animals broke out across the vast manicured lawns of the Ishtar estate. Dogs, specifically, guard dogs, barking frivolously at what could only be an intruder. Despite the size of the mansion, the noise roused everyone resting soundly in their beds to the din. Alarms raised and servants frenzied, lights were hurriedly lit and doors and windows locked.
The Ishtar's never got intruders. Their property was too massive and well-guarded for such events to occur. Who on this forsaken Earth was mad enough to attempt such a daringly foolish act? It was the thought racing through everybody's minds. Many too stunned that something so unlikely was happening to respond in a desirable manner.
Odion was the first to work up the courage to investigate the scene outside. Striding confidently up to the front door where the dogs were being the loudest, clearly directly on the other side, Odion hesitated only for a moment before reaching out for the doorknob. Before he could grasp it, however, the door was ripped violently open, and a bloodied mess stumbled inside. Odion staggered backwards in surprise, nearly toppling over. Collective gasps and shrieks from the maids rose from behind him, where they were hanging back out of fear.
The door slammed shut just as violently as it had been opened, a few yelps from dogs that had been hit by the heavy wood erupting from the other side. The man who had caused so much turmoil leaned back against the door before dropping haphazardly, landing in an disheveled, slumped wreck on the marbled floor. Streaks of blood ran down the mahogany where he'd slid down it.
"Bakura?" was the name being repeatedly whispered and growled. Odion could only stare...
The man in question was exactly who they thought he was. Out of breath and in incredible pain, it took all he was worth to pull his legs out from under him so he could rest his bleeding arms on his knees in a more comfortable position. A scratchy chuckle rumbled up from Odion's feet where Bakura sat, blood dripping from various bites all over his body. His battered jeans were torn open at the knees where the tattered flesh bore dirt and gravel, his greasy hair ripped and sloven, deep scratches marred the pale, sweaty flesh of his face and neck.
And yet still, he laughed as if this was the most normal thing in the world.
"What?" he rasped. "No formalities? I'd expect as much from you, at least, dearest Odion." He coughed sharply, not bothering to cover his mouth.
"We thought you were dead, master Bakura. You haven't been home in weeks, your belongings left untouched, and we were left with no means of contact."
Bakura merely smirked in response.
"I trust my things have not been removed. I'm surprised nobody suspected anything when I'd paid two months rent at once," the white-haired man retorted after some time. He made no eye contact as he spoke, choosing instead to hang his head stiffly, staring uninterestedly at the droplets of blood accumulating on the ground around him.
"Your belongings have not been touched, at the request of the young master-"
"Bakura!" A shrill voice broke through the scene, the soft thupping of feet on the polished floor was at first the only sign anybody was arriving, until a young boy, no older than twelve, dashed in through the extravagant archway leading to the main part of the house. Pale blonde hair whipping behind him, a hopeful expression gracing his soft features.
Within moments he'd pushed past the mansion's servants, who had created a small crowd near the door. He skidded to a halt, blood running cold at the sight that met his wide, lavender eyes. "Bakura!" he cried, his voice radiating a choked combination of relief and horror. He darted to the older boy's side, and kneeled in front of him, after having carelessly shoved Odion out of the way. "Oh Ra, Bakura. You're... You're..." Words failed him as he reached a trembling hand out to the man's bleeding face. He halted before actually touching the chilled flesh of his cheek, afraid he may hurt him, and dropped his arm.
"Why... Where did you go, Bakura? You're hurt! Why did... You... Should've..." The boy's voice shook before he suddenly let out a terrified sob. Bakura blinked at him, not knowing what to say that would soothe him. A chatter slowly rose from the servants standing around them before they broke apart to go about taking care of the situation. Bakura had returned, preparations were to be made. The word was to be spread! The alarms turned off, the dogs calmed, the master informed...
Bakura had abruptly lost all interest in the things going on around him not pertaining to the weeping child on his knees in front of him.
"Malik," he whispered, as softly as his dry, hoarse throat would allow. Malik gazed up at him, a wall of tears blurred his vision, and he wiped at his eyes so to meet Bakura's gaze. Dirty, moist bangs shrouded the man's eyes from Malik's view, but Bakura could see him, and he was watching him intently.
"Don't cry, Malik. I'm home now." A soft smile curled his chapped lips reassuringly, and Malik stared at him for a moment, before he replied with his own weak smile, hiccuping back the tears that hadn't quite finished falling.
Malik abruptly stood up, his silk night gown now wrinkled, with specks of red from the floor marring the hem. He reached his hands down to Bakura.
"Please, Bakura. Stand up. We have to get you somewhere where my father can't see you. He'll be very upset, and the servants are surely on their way to tell him you're back, as we speak."
The boy was wise far beyond his years, and he knew he was right, but he was so sore, so tired...
"I... Can't," Bakura murmured. He wanted to, he wanted to do whatever Malik asked of him. But he could barely sit upright.
"Please! Please try!" Malik pleaded, his voice cracking again, the tears threatening to come back as he grasped Bakura's frozen hands. It was warm outside, why was he so cold...
"Perhaps I can help," Odion tentatively made his presence known as he squatted down beside Bakura, who painfully moved his head enough to see the tall man out of the corner of his eye.
"Oh, Odion..." Malik started, looking momentarily lost, before his gaze sharpened. "Bring him to my room, quickly, I'll go distract father."
Odion slipped Bakura's left arm over his shoulder, and wrapped his other arm around his ribs. Bakura groaned in protest, gritting his teeth against the pain, but allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet, regardless. Malik, now certain Bakura was (literally) in good hands, began in the direction of his father's study. He hadn't gotten far before he skidded to a halt and turned on his heel.
"Odion, once he's in my room, sit him in the bathroom with a blanket, then turn out the lights and leave. Bakura, stay quiet. If father finds you're in my room... I... Don't want to know what he'd do..." Bakura blinked at Malik, such brilliance, always thinking on his feet. Odion nodded in understanding and returned to assisting Bakura as he walked him down the vast corridor and up to the grand staircase. Bakura watched over his shoulder at Malik, whose eyes sparkled with determination, before darting off again.
The struggle up the staircase was quite possibly the worst part of the whole ordeal. Sixty-eight steps with a sprained ankle. Not to mention an awkward run-in with one of the maids. Malik's bedroom was the very last room at the end of the long corridor on the second floor. Two more long hallways spanned out from either side of the large decorative door, making the room appear to be some kind of centerpiece.
Odion leaned Bakura against the wall next to the door as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a large ring of identical keys. Without looking at them, he parted them to reveal the one he wanted and proceeded to unlock the door. It didn't seem possible to Bakura, to be able to put a door to each and every one of the fifty plus keys on the ring without looking. He supposed, though, that these things become second nature to you after a while.
Odion reached in and flicked on a light switch next to the door, soaking the room in a rich yellowy glow, before dragging an increasingly annoyed Bakura inside. He wasted no time kicking the door shut with his foot. Odion led him unceremoniously into the private bathroom straight across the room.
He didn't need Odion's assistance to flop onto the tiled floor. He gazed around the bathroom with mild curiosity, as he'd never been in it before. It was surprisingly small, compared to the other lavatories in the mansion. The walls and ceiling were painted a dark brown, and everything else was a sandy color. Various other things, such as towels, the bathmat, even the small toothbrush in it's holder, were all purple. Lavender, more specifically. The color he identified to be Malik's favorite.
He hadn't noticed Odion's absence until the brawny man returned with a large soft blanket. He placed it over Bakura's shoulders, and then stepped back.
"Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave, master Bakura?"
Bakura was slightly distracted by the smell of cinnamon, as he was trying to place where the source was. He looked up at him and blinked.
"Turn the heater on," he stated simply. Odion nodded and fiddled with the switches on the wall across from the sink for a moment before looking over his shoulder at Bakura.
"It seems the young master is quite fond of you, to so willingly put himself in line of fire of his father's wrath to ensure your safety," he turned around completely, now satisfied with the temperature on the dials. "If I'm not stepping out of line to say so, I believe you owe him your thanks."
Bakura adverted his gaze and grunted, staring at a bath toy leaning against the tub. Odion said no more and flicked off the light, then closed the door. Bakura sat awkwardly in the darkness for a few moments, until he became aware of a small night light, giving off just enough light that he could still see the toy.
Blinking, he reached out and picked it up. A smallish plush seahorse, purple of course. It was still somewhat damp to the touch, suggesting it had been immersed in water quite recently. He smirked.
"Oh, the things you've seen."
He chuckled after he realized that he'd just spoken to a toy. About improper thoughts, no less. "Must've lost more blood than I thought."
About an hour later, he awoke to the sound of the door to the bathroom opening, and the blood still sitting in his veins ran cold. Had he been discovered? His body sat completely frozen, pressed tight against the wall next to the tub. He subconsciously tightened the blanket around himself, as if it would help to hide him.
Suddenly, light flooded the room, blinding him until his eyes focused enough to dart up to the boy standing in the doorway.
"Bakura?"
He smiled. "I'm okay, Malik."
The Egyptian walked over and kneeled in front of him. "I'm sorry that took so long, but it was a mess. I had to talk my way out of leaving my homework, and about you coming back with all those stupid servants there trying to convince him otherwise. And you hurt one of the dogs, father wasn't impressed with that..."
He rambled on and on, his voice shaking a little, the puffiness around his eyes making it clear he'd been crying, but was being brave in Bakura's presence.
"Anyway, he wound up going to bed, so we don't have to worry about him finding you in here for now..." As he spoke, he gently removed the blanket from it's comforting embrace around Bakura. Malik paused in his speech, looking down into the man's lap.
"Bubbles...?" He questioned softly, no mockery in his tone.
Bakura looked down, too, to see the bath toy resting on his thigh. He picked it up and examined it again. "I was looking at it," he explained, embarrassment evident in his voice. He placed the toy in the boy's hands. "It's cute." Like you, he added mentally.
Malik gazed at the toy for a moment, then set it aside.
"You're hurt... We can't get you a professional. Let me help you, okay?" Malik voiced meekly. Bakura answered with his eyes.
"Um... You'll... Need to bathe first. Your wounds must be cleaned," the blonde stated awkwardly.
Bakura could have laughed at the situation, and how easy it could be to take advantage of, but he didn't.
"I've been slipping in and out of consciousness for a while now," he lied. "I think it'd be best if you were here."
In honesty, Bakura felt quite rejuvenated after his short rest, and he didn't need to be nursed by a child. But Bakura was never an honest man. He leaned forward and pulled his dirty white shirt t-shirt over his head. He placed his hands on his belt before chancing a glance at Malik. The child was blushing furiously, his brows furrowed as he glared at the floor, desperately trying not to stare. Bakura smiled and helped himself up by grabbing onto the edge of the counter. He stood awkwardly on his good foot and removed the remainder of his clothing. Without being told, Malik had pulled back the glass door and started up the bath, fooling with the taps until the water was warm. Without looking at Bakura, he sat back and murmured "It's ready."
Bakura hobbled over to the tub, and felt as Malik gently took hold of his arm, helping lower him into the water. He hissed as the warm water touched his bites and scrapes. He eventually eased back into the tub, the water having gone from painful to soothing. He opened his eyes, which he'd screwed shut at first, and gazed up at Malik, who was busying himself finding various soaps and digging around in the cupboard under the sink for the softest washcloth he could find.
He padded over to the tub and set the supplies on the floor next to it. Kneeling, he picked up the washcloth and dropped it in the water to get it wet. Bakura smirked as the child's curious eyes defied him, scanning up to the albino's taut, battered body. He momentarily met his gaze and Malik shied away, flustered. Bakura cocked his head a little at him. "It's going to be uncomfortable for you to have to lean all the way over to me to treat my wounds." Malik said nothing, only nodded slightly, reading the label of a bottle of liquid soap before setting it down and picking up another.
"Why don't you come in here?"
Malik started and stared at Bakura, wide-eyed. "Huh?"
"Come into the tub with me. You'll be able to reach better," he suggested, attempting you make his gravelly voice sound innocent, and not succeeding very well. Malik was still blushing furiously, his face bright red as he gaped in shock at Bakura. "But..."
"You can keep your clothes on," Bakura chuckled, knowing what Malik meant even before he said it.
Malik hesitated, moving his gaze down to his hands, now sitting idly in his lap. After a moment of contemplation, he sat up onto his haunches and then carefully crawled into the tub, sinking down into the warm water between Bakura's legs. His stained nightgown floating out around him in an endearing manner, especially to Bakura's hungry eyes. He leaned over the side of the tub to retrieve the special soap he'd picked out, and... The bath toy.
Bakura blinked curiously at him. "I don't like having baths without Bubbles," Malik explained. He placed it in the water, and to Bakura's surprise, it stayed upright, floating at the surface. Malik prattled on about how it did that because of a buoy in the center of it, and the science behind how that worked, but Bakura wasn't paying attention anymore. He was entranced by the boy's lithe, nubile body, almost totally exposed due to the water that hugged the fabric to it. He could see everything. How the child's chest would rise and fall with each breath, every rib on his far too thin torso, his nipples, erect at the sensation of the water...
He barked in surprise when he suddenly felt a sharp stinging sensation in his knee. Malik was carefully cleaning away the dirt and gravel with the bar of soap and washcloth. His knees were in bad condition, the flesh more shredded than scraped. He grit his teeth against the pain, and distracted himself by continuing to stare at Malik.
It took a long time to get all of his wounds clean. At some point, Malik had gotten quite comfortable in the tub with Bakura and continued to bathe him properly- something Bakura probably could have done himself- even going as far as to wash his hair. Conversation was kept to a bare minimum. The silence only broken ever so often by soft "ow"s from Bakura and Malik counting his injuries. He'd been bitten sixteen times, mostly on his calves and forearms. The sides of his hands, his elbows, and of course his knees were badly scraped from where he'd braced a long fall over a fence onto the concrete below. He also had a fairly large chunk of hair torn from his scalp, enough to have made it bleed. Not to mention countless bruises, a deep cut on his face, and the sprained ankle.
After some time Malik stood up and stepped out of the tub, his night gown soaked all the way through. He placed a towel across the toilet seat and turned back at Bakura. Bakura had to fight not to stare at him while he was watching. Malik smiled warmly at him and held out his hands for Bakura to grasp.
"It's okay, I think I can manage," he muttered, heaving himself out of the water, he stepped out of the tub onto his good leg and spun at an angle so he could drop onto the seat. Malik's expression hardened just a little. "You're very stubborn, Bakura."
"Yeah, well. I don't like feeling helpless."
Malik didn't argue and proceeded to dry Bakura off. Bakura bit his lip at the sensation of those small hands behind the plush towel, stroking the water from his body. All too soon those hands were gone. He looked up to see Malik had retrieved a first aid kit.
The sting of alcohol and various antibacterial cleansers numbed his growing state of arousal. Much gauze was used, among bandaids and tenser bandages for his knees and ankle. Eventually Malik sat back and examined his work. After a moment of awkward silence, he stood. "Um. Stay here. I'll go get you some clothes."
Bakura was left, yet again, feeling useless. He busied himself by draining the bathtub and putting everything away- not an easy task in his current state. He'd only been sitting down again for minute or two when a panting Malik rushed back in, a clean pair of jeans and a black t-shirt folded neatly against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around them.
"Are you oka-"
"I was almost caught," Malik huffed out before Bakura could finish. Bakura didn't press the matter and took the clothes from Malik, laying them in his lap. "... No boxers?"
Malik turned away, now finding the door interesting. "I didn't want to root through that drawer." Bakura smiled at him, although he wasn't looking, and struggled into his clothes. He sat back down on the toilet seat, and crossed his hands in his lap.
"Thankyou, Malik," Bakura suddenly stated, remembering what Odion'd said earlier.
Malik looked up at him, surprised by his words.
"Oh... No, it's nothing. Really," Malik assured, blushing for the zillionth time that night. Bakura shook his head. "Don't be so modest. It took guts to stand up to your father for me coming back. After all I did..." He trailed off for a moment. "I really have no business here, anymore. Everyone can see that, even me."
"Don't talk like that!" Malik shouted, suddenly panicked. He dropped to his knees in front of Bakura, gripping his sore hands tightly, his own trembling slightly.
His voice hitched with emotion. "Please... I... I was so lost when you left. You didn't say goodbye, and they all thought you died. But I told them you were still alive, and I made them keep your room, and made sure they didn't lie to anybody about you passing. And I was right, and you're back, and oh Ra please don't leave again!" Malik began to sob uncontrollably, his lavender eyes wide open and glistening with tears. He stared directly into Bakura's eyes, and the man suddenly felt so exposed under that pleading gaze. He stared straight into them, mezmorized by their sincerity, and the ever-present innocence of youth.
"Please... You're the only friend I've ever had."
Bakura didn't know how to respond. His mind told him to tell the truth of his plans, but his heart cried out far louder than his logic. He gently removed his hands from Malik's vice-like hold on them, to gently pull the boy into his arms.
"I'll stay for you."
Malik released a shuddering breath of relief, and he wrapped his arms around Bakura's back, burying his face into his chest. His tears slowed to a stop quite quickly as Bakura hushed him, gently stroking his back in what he assumed was a soothing gesture.
Malik yawned loudly, exhausted from his weeping and stood up and away from Bakura. "They'll question you if you go back to your room. You can sleep here with me. We'll deal with them tomorrow, together. Okay?"
Bakura was tired, too. His desperate escape during the night and the events that followed having sapped every ounce of energy in him, the short nap he had failing to do much in the long run. He was too tired to even consider taking advantage of having to sleep with Malik... Especially not after what the boy'd just said to him.
Malik had changed into a dry nightgown and underwear before going back into the bathroom to fetch Bakura. He helped him over to the massive queen-sized bed he normally had all to himself. Bakura sat at the end and watched as Malik rushed about preparing for bed.
It didn't take long, however, and soon Malik crawled into the bed behind him, having turned off every light except for the lamp on his bedside table. He picked up a brush from his dresser, and sat himself behind Bakura. No permission was needed as Malik gently started working out the nasty tangles in Bakura's colorless hair.
"Malik," Bakura started.
"Yeah?"
The man sat quietly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of the Egyptian's fingers working through his hair with the brush. "Why do you do all of this for me? Ever since we met, I'd done nothing but take advantage of you, and yet you still treat me with the highest regard. I don't understand your motivations."
Malik's hands stilled for a moment before continuing.
"Hope, I guess. Father always said I was too trusting, but I don't want to believe that's a vice," he explained, his voice a low murmur in his sleepiness, soft and laced with a lingering sadness.
Hope and trust were two things Bakura carried little of. Malik truly was his opposite.
He couldn't think of anything to say to the boy as he finished with his hair and put the brush back. He crawled under the covers and got comfortable, before lifting the other side of it for Bakura to join him. He did so with some difficulty, careful not to agitate his injuries.
Malik reached out and turned off the light, and they were engulfed by a cozy, yet somewhat smothering darkness. Bakura was lulled nearly to sleep by the gentle sound of Malik's breathing, but he felt sleep wasn't quite ready yet, and he was right.
"Bakura?"
"Hm?"
"I'm... Right to have faith in you, aren't I?"
Bakura was silent. Faith? Malik had faith in him? In someone so lowly and despicable?
"I... Hope so," he answered genuinely.
He held in a gasp as he felt Malik move to cuddle against him, sugar-sweet breaths ghosting over his face.
No more words were needed as Bakura let loose all reservations and morality and pressed a light, chaste kiss to Malik's supple lips. Malik purred in response and nuzzled his head against Bakura's neck as the man draped an arm over him.
To have hope in faith is a backward way of thinking, yet, it may just be worth it, Bakura thought as he was consumed by the most contented sleep he'd ever had. To be continued...