Escape

by Jem Kallop

Marik's favourite place to escape is his local cafe, although the white-haired waiter there often drives him insane. There is more to him than there first appears to be, however. Simple thiefshipping AU oneshot

Just a simple thiefshipping oneshot. Originally posted on tumblr for a friend's birthday

Marik stared at his laptop screen, chewing his lower lip, undecided. The create account button flashed appealingly up at him, his details already inputted – all he would have to do was click it and he would have joined the chat site. So easy. So why was he hesitating?

Maybe because you know how disappointed your siblings will be.

Marik rolled his eyes. Yes, it was true, Ishizu and Rishid would likely never let him near a computer again if they discovered he had joined a site like this, but Marik was almost past caring what they thought. Well, he was definitely past caring what Ishizu thought, but Rishid was a different matter; Marik had always held far more respect for his brother. He didn't want to let Rishid down.

"Master Marik?" A soft knock at the door sounded.

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive. Marik turned to his door, beckoning with a sharp call, "Enter."

The door slipped open, revealing Rishid's tall, calm form standing in the hall. He ducked into Marik's room with a respectful dip of his head, not commenting on how Marik quickly shut his laptop screen. "Sister is asking for you downstairs."

"Tell her I'm busy," Marik answered with a scowl.

Rishid half-smiled. "I did, and she sent me up here to get you."

"Well what does she want?" Marik leaned back in his seat, folding his arms with a small huff.

Rishid dipped his head again. "I'm afraid I do not know, Master Marik. You would have to ask her yourself."

Marik hissed. "Well tell her if she wants to talk to me that badly she can come up here. I'm not going to move to her every whim."

"Yes, Master Marik." Rishid turned away and moved back to the door, his long robes snapping around his ankles.

Marik's eyes softened a little. "…And brother?"

"Yes?" Rishid turned back to meet Marik's gaze.

"…You don't have to call me that anymore." Marik blinked, leaning a bit closer. "I'm just your brother."

Rishid gave a small smile before he turned and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Marik sighed. He turned back to his laptop, lifting the lid again to be met with the still-flashing button to create his account. He pursed his lips. The thought of Rishid finding out about this actually hurt him a little – he could just imagine the slight disappointment in Rishid's dark green eyes, the way his brow would furrow in that way that had always told Marik he was doing something wrong. His mouse hovered over the little x in the corner that would exit the page…

"Marik!" The door burst open and Ishizu strode into the room, glaring at her younger brother. "I thought I told you to stop this?!"

Marik's brows furrowed and he slammed the laptop lid back down again, spinning around in his chair to send Ishizu a deathly dark glare. "Stop what, exactly?"

"Disobeying me!" Ishizu's blue eyes flashed with fury. "If I ask to speak to you, I expect a civil response, not you sending Rishid down like he's still some servant to do your bidding."

Marik rolled his eyes. "It was his choice-"

"And I don't want you to backchat me, either!" Ishizu continued to yell. "You treated everyone as servants for too long, how can you even stand to live with yourself?! Rishid still calls you Master! Your own brother!"

Marik, despite himself, flinched.

"You are certainly an Ishtar," Ishizu breathed in a dangerous hiss. "You are acting just like Father."

That did it. Marik shot up from his chair, towering over his shorter sister with his fists clenched and his eyes flashing anger. "Shut the hell up! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"I know what I see." Ishizu's voice was taught.

"You don't fucking see anything," Marik hissed, "And you're judging what you don't know. I am nothing like him, and I never will be."

Ishizu stayed silent for a moment. Her eyes were narrow, her expression cold and dangerous as she eyed her younger brother. "I hope so, brother."

Marik went still.

They remained facing each other, gazes locked, for a long, long moment, until Ishizu finally turned and went back to the door, her long white dress flicking around her ankles. Marik watched her out with a glare. When she was finally gone, he turned back to his desk and returned to his laptop, lifting the lid again with a hiss. Ishizu's words had got to him more than he would like to admit. The same screen from before flashed up, the mouse hovering over the exit account page. Marik pursed his lips. Should he do this, even when he knew it would wind his siblings up more?

Marik didn't even have to think twice. He hit the create account button with a ferocious click.

—-

A few days later, Marik was once again sitting at his laptop, staring at the screen with a small frown creasing his brow. He had had a few messages, but nothing that interested him enough to continue replying after a few exchanged details – it turned out that everyone online was just as dull as the people he met in real life. No one held any interest for him. He scrolled through his inbox with a bored sigh, eyes flat and glazed with boredom. Why had he even bothered joining this site? He was hoping it would give him some space away from his siblings, an escape from the mind-numbing dullness of his everyday life, but so far there had been nothing at all to make it worth his while.

"Marik!" Ishizu's familiar voice called up from downstairs, and Marik resisted the desperate urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he pushed his chair back from his desk and closed the lid of his laptop, exiting his bedroom and pausing at the top of the stairs.

"What is it, sister?" He yelled back, doing everything he could to keep his tone light.

Ishizu appeared in the hall, glancing up at him with harsh blue eyes. "You didn't wash up the dishes from last night."

"Was I supposed to?" Marik arched a brow.

"Well, you do live here, Marik," Ishizu responded snippily, "And it isn't like we ever ask you to do much. Honestly, you could have just seen the washing needed doing and done it without us having to ask you. I am assuming you do have some common sense in that blond head of yours?"

Marik's nostrils flared. Oh yeah, that's why I joined the site. Anything's better than this, even boredom. Still, he managed to send his sister a sickly sweet smile. "Well, I haven't been in the kitchen today, so I didn't see."

"You haven't?" Ishizu's expression changed from frustration to worry in a heartbeat. "Have you eaten yet?"

Marik huffed, leaning against the bannisters with a glare at her. "No, and I'm fine."

"Marik!" Ishizu shook her head. "What have I told you about taking care of yourself properly?"

Marik blew a short, sharp breath of frustration out from between his teeth before he sniffed haughtily and tripped down the stairs, pushing past Ishizu with a rough shove.

"Brother?" She caught his arm, turning her to face him with narrowed blue eyes. "What are you-"

"I'm taking your advice," Marik interrupted. "I'm going to take care of myself, and right now, that means getting away from you."

Ishizu's eyes widened with hurt, but Marik was past caring. He ripped out of her grip and stormed straight out of the front door, slamming it behind him with a loud crash and a rattle of fragile glass.

Out on the sunny street, Marik massaged his temples, closing eyes with a low growl. His sister was going to drive him insane. He took a few moments just to pause in the street, letting the familiar sounds of the traffic and noise of daily life settle his hot temper back down again before his feet automatically carried him to his favourite escape shop, just a few streets away.

The familiar scent of coffee pervaded the air, the small bell of the café window tinkling as Marik pushed it open and entered the comforting, small space. It was a little busy, but not full. Marik joined the queue at the counter, glancing up disinterestedly at the list of specials before deciding he would order his usual black coffee – none of the fancier drinks appealed to him. He lacked enough simplicity in his life already. It was only a few steps later that Marik glanced at the person working behind the counter today, and he resisted the urge to curse aloud. Shit, that was just what he needed. The figure was dressed in his usual striped, casual t-shirt and jeans under the café apron that he wore, his long white hair tied back in a ponytail safely away from the coffee. Adorning his pale face was the familiar arrogant smirk; the expression that Marik detested. Marik's eyes narrowed. Bakura. Perfect. Just who I did NOT need to see today.

The queue shuffled on until it was Marik's turn, and he met Bakura's dark brown eyes with a glare. "Black coffee."

"Oh really?" Bakura's low, dulcet voice answered, and Marik swore there was a hint of amusement in his infuriating tone. "Not going to branch out and try something different today?"

Marik was not in the mood to play games. He glowered straight at Bakura and ground out between clenched teeth, "Black. Coffee."

"As you wish," Bakura shrugged smoothly. "Though one day you're going to order something different, and it will be the first sign of the apocalypse."

"And one day, Bakura, you are actually going to do your job properly, and hell is going to freeze over," Marik shot back with a growl.

Bakura arched a brow. "My, my, someone is pissy today."

"I'm pissy because I want my coffee, and as always, you are too much of an asshole to make it." Marik placed his palms on the counter and leaned towards Bakura with a narrowed glare, his lips pursed.

"Asshole?" Bakura answered mildly. "I think I preferred it when you were calling me by my name. One day you will have to tell me yours, oh mysterious repeat customer."

"I told you; you're never getting my name." Marik growled.

"Maybe I should give you a nametag, too," Bakura answered with that irritating smirk, gesturing to the tag on his chest that clearly spelled out Bakura. "That would even the odds between us enough, don't you think?"

Marik clenched his fists. Why could this asshole never just take his order and bring him coffee, like he was supposed to? Why did he always have to try and be such a smart-mouth, especially on days like today, when all Marik wanted was to nurse a warm drink in a dark corner somewhere and hope that his tension headache went away? He rubbed his forehead with a low sigh, closing his eyes. The faint sounds of the coffee machine whirring sounded and soon enough a warm, steaming cup was placed in front of Marik, followed by a pale hand held out palm-up, expectant.

Marik dropped the coins into Bakura's hand without meeting his gaze again, picked up his coffee, and moved straight for his favourite table hidden far away in a secluded corner. He didn't drink for several minutes. Instead, his mind slid back to home, where his sister and brother were no doubt wondering where he had gone and why he had stormed out again, when they hadn't done anything especially bad to wind him up. He sighed. Lately, it just felt like everything was disappointing him. The website so far had not provided him with any interesting contacts, and his siblings were just driving him more and more insane. Rishid was a little more bearable, it was true, but he still insisted on bowing to Marik and calling him Master, when Marik knew he was not even close to being worthy of that title. He never had been. And that coupled with Ishizu's disappointment in him just made Marik feel more and more like a failure – perhaps his Father had been right after all…

Marik took a sip of his coffee, mind still miles away, until he spat it back out with a surprised, disgusted sound. "Blech! What is that?" He turned his gaze down to the drink and his eyes narrowed in horror when he saw that it was a much lighter colour than it should have been. "There's milk in this!"

"Oh, is there now? I am so sorry about that." A very insincere and very unwelcome voice sounded in Marik's ear.

Marik turned with a hiss, and sure enough, Bakura was leaning over him with that stupid, arrogant smirk back on his lips. Marik pointed at him and yelled, "You did this on purpose?"

Bakura arched a brow. "Me? Whatever do you mean?"

"You know full well!" Marik stood up, flinging his chair onto the ground in his anger. "You put milk in my coffee!"

"I doubt it will kill you," Bakura answered coolly.

Marik flared. "It could! How do you know I don't have that intolerant-thingy?"

"Lactose intolerance, I think you mean," Bakura responded with an amused chuckle, "And even if you did – which you don't – it wouldn't kill you."

Marik's fists clenched. He strode up to Bakura, backing him up with a dangerously narrow violet glare, his voice even and throbbing with tension. "I don't know why you always have it in for me, but stay out of my fucking way. Understood?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bakura answered with an expression that was anything but innocent.

Marik threw his hands into the air, turned on his heel, and left the café. It had once been his refuge, his safe place to escape from the craziness of his house, but ever since he had first run into Bakura there a few weeks ago even that had been desecrated. For some reason, that pale man seemed to have it in for Marik, though for the life of him Marik could not think why. Perhaps he should start avoiding the place.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Marik wandered aimlessly through the streets for a while, attempting to clear his head at least a little before he had to return home again. He couldn't delay forever, though, so soon enough he directed his steps back through the familiar streets towards his home again, sighing as the plain house came back into view. He laid his hand on the front door with pursed lips. I wonder what would happen if one day I didn't come home … I just stayed out, wandered forever, until I found somewhere else I could live … somewhere better, somewhere free…

He could never do that to his siblings, though. Just the thought of the worry on Ishizu's and Rishid's faces was enough to have him opening the door and stepping back into the hall, closing the door behind him.

Predictably enough, Ishizu jumped on him as soon as he was through the door. He pushed her away as best he could, fobbing her off with some excuse or other before moving to the stairs, sending Rishid one small smile as he disappeared back into his bedroom. Marik closed the door firmly behind him. He rested against the wooden door and rubbed his forehead again with a sigh, shaking his head, before he moved back to his desk and opened his laptop again.

There was a message in his inbox.

Marik's brows lifted in surprise and he clicked the message quickly, opening it to see it was from a new contact. Perhaps this one would be different. He read the message, his head tilting.

Unknown: What are you doing on this site? You don't strike me as the sort of person who would resort to the internet to meet people

Marik's brows furrowed. He attempted to click on the profile of the person who had sent the message, but they must have had their anonymous setting on as he couldn't get any details about them to come up at all. Not even their gender. Still, the person seemed to know Marik, at least a little. Marik opened up a new tab and checked his own profile – as he thought, he hadn't included much personal information of his own; just his online alias, age, and location. Oh, and a picture of himself. Hmmm. Well, this message was certainly the most intriguing he had received so far, so Marik decided he would actually bother to reply to this one.

HunterIshtar: And how exactly do you know what sort of person I am? You shouldn't judge people before you know them, you know

Marik paused, watching the screen for a few moments to see if a reply would appear. He couldn't even check if the mysterious messenger was online, due to their anonymous state, although as it turned out that didn't matter. Less than five minutes later, the message symbol once again flashed in Marik's inbox.

Unknown: I'm good at judging people

Marik arched a brow. Good, the person was online; hopefully this could be a source of entertainment at least for a while this evening. He typed out a response.

HunterIshtar: Oh are you know? Care to share some secrets with me?

Unknown: Oh please, it is far more difficult than that to learn the tricks of the trade

HunterIshtar: What trade are you talking about?

Unknown: Internet messaging, of course. Do you really know nothing?

HunterIshtar: Hey, watch who you're insulting there. I know far more than you, I guarantee it

Unknown: You think so?

HunterIshtar: I know so.

Unknown: And I thought I was arrogant. Well, if you know so much, what is it you think you can teach me?

HunterIshtar: As you said, it takes a lot more than that to get secrets out of me

Unknown: Oh, I'm sure I could think of something to make you tell me ;)

Marik paused in his reply, staring with a slight frown at the last message. It seemed this stranger was … playing with him? At least, Marik thought so, from what he could tell of the tone of the messages. He narrowed his eyes a little, unsure exactly what to say to that, if anything at all. He pursed his lips.

HunterIshtar: …I'm not entirely sure how to take that

Unknown: Take it however you want

Marik hissed. That was perhaps the least helpful answer he could have got, but he supposed he shouldn't really have expected anything less from someone who wouldn't even give so much as a hint to their identity. Marik shook his head, deciding not to reply for the night. His head was aching and he was tired, so he merely shut down his laptop and went to bed.

—-

The next day, Marik couldn't help but go straight to his laptop as soon as he woke in the morning. He had been unable to get that weird conversation with the unknown stranger out of his head, and it made him smile to think that he might finally have met someone who could actually hold his interest for more than a few minutes. He would have to think of some sort of suitable reply.

Logging onto the site, Marik's brows shot up when he saw that he had five unread messages in his inbox.

Unknown: Have you gone off to sulk?

Unknown: I'm actually a little disappointed. I thought you might have been someone interesting to talk to

Unknown: Ignoring people is rude, you know

Unknown: Hm, maybe you really are sulking. I wouldn't put it past you

Unknown: As soon as you get these messages, you had better reply

Marik leaned back in his seat with a small chuckle of surprise. Huh, this stranger was very persistent. It was almost … flattering, in a weird way, that someone actually bothered to talk to him like that, and in a way that actually managed to hold his interest, too. He thought through a reply carefully before sending it.

HunterIshtar: I wake up to this. Huh. Not a stalker, are you?

To Marik's surprise, once again a reply came through almost straight away.

Unknown: Finally. There you are. Don't leave me waiting that long again.

HunterIshtar: Leave you waiting? You really are sounding like a stalker. Should I be worried?

Unknown: You should always be worried about me. The sooner you learn that, the better.

HunterIshtar: Haha. You're not scary.

Unknown: That's another mistake on your behalf, I'm afraid.

HunterIshtar: I think I will be the judge of that. Why are you so obsessed with me, anyway?

Unknown: You're interesting

HunterIshtar: You don't know me. How can you think I am interesting?

Unknown: I know you more than you think

HunterIshtar: …You really are sounding like a stalker right now

Unknown: Hahaha. Good. So what were you doing yesterday that meant you disappeared so rapidly?

HunterIshtar: Sleeping

Unknown: So early?

HunterIshtar: I'd had a long, frustrating day. Believe me, if you'd put up with the shit I had, you'd have gone to bed too

Unknown: Oh? Shit like what?

HunterIshtar: Like my siblings yelling at me and nagging me and never leaving me alone and then when I finally escaped and went out to get a coffee this bastard got my order wrong and I'm sure he did it deliberately just to wind me up and then I came home and you were here being a weirdo so I left

Unknown: That certainly sounds like an eventful day. Why do you think that 'bastard' got your order wrong deliberately?

HunterIshtar: It's a long story. He seems to hate me for some reason that I cannot understand

Unknown: That's a bit of a harsh judgement if you don't know him, isn't it?

HunterIshtar: Oh believe me, if YOU knew him, you wouldn't think it was harsh at all

Unknown: I suppose I will have to take your word for it. Perhaps I know this person, though, Domino isn't that big

HunterIshtar: …You're in Domino too?

Unknown: …

Unknown: Yes. Yes I am.

HunterIshtar: What, didn't want me to know that? You should really come off anonymous, you know, it feels weird talking to a grey icon

Unknown: I'm sure you can deal with a little weird

HunterIshtar: At least give me a name to work with?

Unknown: Why? I don't know your name, assuming 'HunterIshtar' is an alias

HunterIshtar: Of course it is. What sort of a person has that name for real?!

Unknown: What sort of a person chooses it for an online nickname

HunterIshtar: …Shut up.

Unknown: Or what?

HunterIshtar: If you carry on like that, I am just going to leave again

Unknown: If you think you can actually stay away this time, I'd love to see you try

HunterIshtar: You were the one stalking me!

Unknown: Well, it worked, didn't it? Here you are, talking to me.

Marik rolled his eyes, pushing back from his laptop with a low huff. This stranger was clearly still playing with him, and apparently having a lot of fun with it at the same time, and even though Marik pretended to be grumpy he couldn't stop a small smile from gracing his lips. He didn't usually let anyone laugh at him. This, though, felt … different. Oddly natural. How could talking to someone without a face be natural? And yet, Marik felt more comfortable talking to this stranger than he had with anyone else before.

Their conversation continued for the rest of that day; hours of just talking to someone. Marik never realised he would be comfortable talking to just one person for so long, but this stranger was interesting enough to hold his attention. Plus, it was a more-than-welcome distraction from his siblings. By the time Marik finally said goodnight and logged off for the evening, he was wearing a warmer smile than he had in weeks.

—-

Several weeks passed, and every day consisted of at least one conversation with the stranger on the website. Marik even found himself looking forwards to such interactions, surprisingly enough; the stranger often made him smile on days when he thought he'd never be able to, and laugh at situations that once would have made him lose his temper. Whenever he had a clash with his siblings, he would log online, and the stranger would always have left a message for him to return to.

Unknown: Ignoring me again?

HunterIshtar: Gods no. Stupid family

Unknown: Again? What happened this time?

HunterIshtar: The usual. Sister yelling, brother trying too hard. Apparently today I didn't do the laundry correctly or something

Unknown: How can you get laundry wrong?

HunterIshtar: The colours are wrong. Or something. Ishizu was moaning about her dress turning purple

Unknown: …Purple?

HunterIshtar: Yes, purple. Problem?

Unknown: Not in the slightest

HunterIshtar: So anyway, my sister yelled at me again and I have retreated to my room for safety but I wouldn't put it past her to just barge in here and tell me to get off the computer so don't be too surprised if I stop replying

Unknown: Why don't you try and fix things with your sister?

HunterIshtar: HAHAHA. If you knew her you would not suggest that. She's impossible to talk to and she yells at me for no good reason and she always ruins everything and tries to order me around

Unknown: If she's that bad, why are you still living with her?

HunterIshtar: …I don't know. Nowhere else to go I guess. I don't usually stay in the house when she's really driving me insane though

Unknown: Where do you go?

HunterIshtar: There's a coffee shop around the corner that usually makes a good escape

Unknown: The one with the person who got your order wrong last time?

HunterIshtar: Ugh yes. He's the only bad thing about that place

Unknown: Then why do you keep going back?

HunterIshtar: …They do good coffee

Unknown: Even when they get your order wrong?

HunterIshtar: Well it's still better than home

Unknown: Then you should probably go there now

HunterIshtar: What?

Unknown: Go there now. Sounds like you need a break for a bit

HunterIshtar: Well yes, but I'd have to stop talking to you

Unknown: That cafe does have wifi, you know

HunterIshtar: It does? How did I now know that before?!

Unknown: Probably because you're an idiot. Go there now

HunterIshtar: Huh, thanks so much, fool

Marik leaned back from his laptop with a small smile gracing his lips. He closed the lid easily before standing and moving to the door, sliding down the stairs and out of the house easily without alerting his siblings at all. Many years of practise had taught him how to move silently. He walked through the familiar streets with his laptop tucked under his arm, ready to turn back on in the café and get back into the conversation with his still-anonymous conversational partner.

The café was quiet today; only two other tables were occupied and there was no queue at the counter. Unfortunately, however, Marik glanced up and saw that the server had long, messy white hair caught back in a mop of a ponytail, his fringe still hanging in his dark brown eyes. Bakura looked up and met Marik's gaze. Immediately the smirk that Marik hated was back on his face, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. "Back again, I see."

"Just give me a black coffee," Marik responded tetchily, "And make sure it is actually black this time."

"Can I at least get a please?" Bakura put on a faux-hurt look.

Marik merely sent him a glare. "Just bring it over when you're done. I need to sit."

Bakura smirked in response. Marik turned his back on that infuriating expression, striding over to his favourite table and placing the laptop down, opening the lid straight back onto the conversation with the stranger. He grinned.

HunterIshtar: Ok, I'm here now

He leaned back, glancing over at the counter as he waited for the stranger to reply. Bakura was still standing there making his coffee, and Marik wanted to make absolutely sure that the fool would actually get his order right this time. Bakura looked up, as if he sensed Marik's eyes on him, and he smirked. "Having fun checking me out over there?"

"I am not!" Marik's eyes widened, the denial fleeing his lips easily. He narrowed his eyes and turned with a huff back to his laptop screen.

Bakura chuckled. He soon appeared back at Marik's table with a cup, placing it down with a flourishing bow. "There you go, sir, I hope everything is to your satisfaction this time."

"No you don't," Marik glowered back.

Bakura's smirk grew. "What a harsh thing for you to say."

"True, though," Marik shot back with a glare, but Bakura had already turned away and disappeared somewhere around the back of the shop. Marik shook his head with a sigh. He picked up his cup and sniffed suspiciously – at least it looked the right colour today – and when he took a sip he realised it was actually the right order for once. He blinked.

Turning back to his laptop, Marik saw that his unknown contact had finally replied. He grinned, setting his cup down and clicking back onto his inbox, preparing to type. Amazingly, even just being out of his house and back in the familiar setting of the coffee shop was helping to calm him down.

Unknown: About time.

HunterIshtar: You're the one who ordered me to leave

Unknown: Well, aren't you happier in the café?

HunterIshtar: …Yes, yes I am actually

Unknown: They must have got your order right

HunterIshtar: They did for once, or I swear I would have murdered that pale bastard

Unknown: Well, you could have tried. I think he might have proven more than a match for you

HunterIshtar: Ha, he wishes. I could take him easily

Unknown: Oh I wouldn't be so sure

Marik arched a brow at that. Sometimes the tone of this unknown person was almost … familiar, in a bizarre way, as if he knew more about Marik than he was letting on. And Marik still knew absolutely nothing about who they were. Not even their gender. He took another sip of his coffee. Placing the mug back on the coaster, Marik leaned forwards, debating his reply with pursed lips.

A sudden noise at his elbow made him jump. He glanced sharply to his right only to see the pale, lean form of Bakura leaning over him with that stupid smirk back on his lips. Marik narrowed his eyes. "Can I help you?"

"I'm almost certain that's the question I am supposed to ask you," Bakura answered smoothly. Without even batting an eyelid, he slid into the seat opposite Marik and leaned back luxuriously.

Marik glared at him over the rim of his laptop. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Sitting." Bakura didn't even miss a beat.

"I can see that," Marik hissed, "But is there a particular reason you're at my table?"

"Nope." Bakura was smirking again; Marik could practically smell it.

Marik furrowed his brows. "Are you going to move?"

"Nope." Bakura glanced down at his fingernails, expression mildly bored, before his slender fingers dipped into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"…Suit yourself." Marik gave up with an exaggerated eye-roll before turning back to his laptop, typing out a quick reply.

HunterIshtar: You might be about to find out. I haven't completely decided not to kill him yet

To Marik's surprise, the stranger responded almost immediately:

Unknown: Hmph, I'd like to see you try

Marik arched a brow. He glanced across the table at Bakura, who was still tapping around on his phone, seemingly not taking the slightest bit of attention to him. Still, Marik prudently turned the screen of his laptop away.

HunterIshtar: You can't see through an anonymous mask, you know

"So maybe we should try actually speaking instead, hm?"

Marik almost jumped out of his skin. That voice was dark, tinted with just the slightest hint of humour, and it was instantly, horrifyingly recognisable. Marik's eyes went wide and he stared across the table to find Bakura's deep brown gaze boring straight into him. The smirk was back at his lips.

"What did you say?" Marik's voice squeaked a lot more than he would have liked.

"Would you prefer if I typed it?" Bakura's smirk grew and he lifted his phone, tapping quickly. Marik's frown deepened until a message flashed up in his inbox again, once again from the same anonymous user he had been speaking too for weeks now.

Unknown: I seem to be able to see you no problem

Marik stared at his laptop screen. Then at Bakura. Then back at his screen. He blinked several times, shook his head, and then stared back over at the white-haired man sitting in front of him. "You mean … is it … is it you?"

Bakura's eyes glinted, the smirk still decorating his face. He turned his phone for Marik to see.

"Give me that!" Marik launched across the table and snatched the phone out of Bakura's grip, holding it up to see the same site that he used to talk to the stranger. And there was their conversation – every single message – typed out in exactly the same detail as it was on Marik's laptop.

Bakura was the stranger.

Bakura was the stranger.

Marik gaped. His face very much resembled a goldfish as he stared over at Bakura, eyes wide and jaw dropped. "…Are you serious?"

"Your face is a picture." Bakura's smirk morphed into a grin and he extended a hand, palm-up.

Marik didn't move an inch.

Bakura chuckled, leaning back in his seat with a nonchalant stretch. "I must admit, I imagined what it would be like when you finally worked out who I was, I thought you'd be a bit more vocal."

Marik snapped his mouth shut. "…What the hell?!"

"You know," Bakura grinned, "Shouting the house down about what a bastard I am. Or screaming at me like you normally do."

"…" Marik remained silent, just staring, before his eyes narrowed. "Yes, well, usually you deserve it."

Bakura shrugged easily.

"But you … you're so different online." Marik blinked, turning back to the messages. He was so confused. He actually liked the stranger. But Bakura? … How could it be Bakura?

Bakura leaned forwards, and his expression became serious for once. "I am always myself, Ishtar."

Marik shook his head again, standing up slowly. He felt oddly … violated. Like everything he had been hoping for these past few months had turned into someone else's bad joke. He closed his laptop with a slap. "No. I don't like you. You're not … you're not the same person."

Bakura's intense gaze remained trained on Marik. "Or perhaps you just don't know me that well."

"I know him," Marik spat back, gesturing to his laptop. "The stranger. The one who was actually nice, who actually understood me!"

"That's me, remember," Bakura rolled his eyes. He lifted his phone.

Marik shook his head with a vehement hiss. "No way." He turned with a dramatic growl, tucking his laptop under his arm again.

"I am, whether you wish to accept it or not." Bakura's voice was low, but it carried through the quiet café. "And when you are ready to deal with it, you know where to find me."

Marik screwed his eyes shut. No. This was not happening. He gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and exited the café without a single look back.

—-

Marik was not happy.

It had been three days since the café trip when he had discovered the true identity of the stranger, and Marik hadn't once logged back into the site. He flopped back onto his bed with a low hiss. Ever since he had realised it was Bakura, his whole life had slipped a little. It was like the one and only thing he had started to enjoy was ripped away from him – or even worse, that he turned out to be the butt of a joke. And he did not like being made fun of. Just the memory of Bakura's arrogant smirk was enough to make Marik's blood boil.

I do not miss him.

That had become Marik's mantra; he repeated it to himself throughout the day, in the shower, during his meals, at night when he stared aimlessly at his laptop without going near it. He most certainly did not miss those long talks with the stranger – Bakura. He did not miss the way he could speak about anything and not feel judged. That cold, empty hole in his stomach was not because he felt like he had lost the closest thing to a friend he had ever had.

Marik groaned. He rolled over onto is front and buried his face in his pillow, screwing his face up with a low growl. Who was he kidding? Of course he missed those talks. But he missed the stranger for when he was a stranger – he couldn't miss Bakura. Bakura the asshole, who constantly wound him up, deliberately needling him until Marik snapped. No. Marik couldn't miss that…

So why did it hurt so much to think about him?

Marik hissed, digging his nails into his palms. He had been sorely tempted to return to the café, especially when his siblings were pressing on is nerves again, but he had just thought of Bakura's smirk to know he couldn't face the white-haired idiot again yet. But Marik was growing desperate. Could it hurt that much, to go to Bakura as he was now, knowing everything about who the other really was?

There was only one way to find out.

Determinedly, Marik got to his feet and left his room, striding purposefully down the stairs and back out onto the street. He traced the familiar path to the coffee shop almost without thinking. When he reached the door it was late, the lights already off, and for half-a-second Marik worried that the shop was actually closed. However, peering through the window gave him one glimpse of white that looked suspiciously like hair, and Marik guessed that Bakura was still in there. Perhaps it would be better if he was on his own, anyway.

Marik swallowed, placed his hand on the door, and entered.

The small bell rang to signal his entrance, disturbing the tranquil air of the shop. Bakura turned instantly, one brow arched, and he went utterly still when he saw Marik. Marik glanced down, shifting a little awkwardly on his feet. He took a deep breath.

"…Was there something you wanted?" Bakura's low voice was wonderfully familiar to Marik's ears, actually allowing him to relax.

Marik looked up and met Bakura's dark brown gaze. He nodded once. "I want to talk to you."

"Well. That's new." The smirk was soon back decorating Bakura's face. "With how you ran out of here last time, I almost thought I'd seen the last of you."

"You caught me by surprise," Marik muttered. He took another step into the café, a little closer to Bakura, and surprisingly now it was much easier to speak. "But it is you, isn't it? The stranger I spoke to."

Bakura inclined his head once.

"But … how?" Marik took another step closer, his eyes narrowed just a little. "Why?"

Bakura shrugged nonchalantly. "I recognised your picture as soon as you joined and thought I could have a little fun. You turned out more interesting than I expected, though."

"So did you," Marik murmured. "Well, I mean – you were actually bearable. Unlike in person." He glowered.

Bakura gave a small dark chuckle.

"Why are you so different in person?" Marik asked again, taking yet another step closer. He noticed that Bakura's hair was no longer trapped back in the ponytail. Instead, it spilled down around his face, long enough to reach passed his shoulders – unusual for a male, but the look suited him.

The corner of Bakura's mouth twitched. "I'm not so different really."

"Please," Marik scoffed, "I actually liked you online."

"Then you should like me in person, too," Bakura responded easily. "I'm really not different."

"You always got my order wrong!" Marik glared.

Despite himself, Bakura laughed. "Because your reaction is priceless. Every time."

"It gold old very quickly," Marik hissed, furrowing his brows at Bakura. He glanced away again. "And online you were … fun. And understanding."

"I am the same person," Bakura reminded mildly, "So stop acting like I'm not."

Marik shook his head. "Maybe you should stop acting like you're not."

Bakura's hand shot out, grasping Marik's arm in a surprisingly tight grip. He peered earnestly into Marik's gaze. "I know that your sister is overbearing and overprotective and she drives you up the wall. I know your brother is subservient, to the point that he depends on you to use him. I know you want nothing more than to be out of there. I know this place is your favourite escape route."

Marik paused. He glanced into Bakura's eyes, his head tilting at the softened expression he found decorating Bakura's pale features. His lips parted. "You know…"

"I know everything you told me." Bakura's other hand lifted carefully. His thumb brushed Marik's cheek. "Everything you trusted me enough to share with you."

"…I did," Marik admitted with the tiniest jerk of his head. "But you never returned the favour."

Bakura chuckled again. "If I had, you would have yelled at me."

Despite himself, Marik felt a sharp grin lifting his lips. "I suppose that is true." He met Bakura's eyes with a glittering violet gaze, his shoulders losing some of their tension. "Still, I would have liked to know who you were."

"You know more about me in some ways," Bakura responded softly. His thumb remained against Marik's cheek.

Marik arched a brow. "How so?"

"You know my name, for example," Bakura answered smoothly.

Marik blinked. "…You don't know my name?"

Bakura shook his head with a low chuckle. "Unless HunterIshtar really is your name."

"It isn't," Marik snickered, "Well … not completely."

Bakura cocked his head, his expression asking a question.

"Ishtar is my surname," Marik explained.

Bakura nodded slowly, the smirk gracing his lips again as he gently stroked Marik's cheek. "And here I thought you were naming yourself after a Goddess."

"You thought … what?" Marik shook his head with a snort.

"It did raise many questions." Bakura chuckled.

Marik glared at him, though the expression was much softer than usual. He sniffed haughtily. "Carry on like that, and I'll never tell you my first name."

"Your threats are always empty," Bakura shrugged easily.

Marik narrowed his eyes. "Like hell they are."

Bakura's smirk returned and he inched his face closer to Marik's, chuckling, "Oh, I'm sure I know a way to get you to tell me."

Marik raised a brow, but before he could formulate the question, Bakura had closed the last vestiges of space between them and pressed their lips together.

Marik went absolutely still.

When the kiss ended, Bakura drew back, his dark brown eyes meeting Marik's through the darkening café. He murmured, "What was your name?"

"…Marik." Marik spoke clearly. He lifted a hand to touch Bakura's arm.

Bakura's eyes slid closed. "Marik Ishtar."

Marik nodded once, smiling just a little. It felt oddly right to hear his name from Bakura's lips.

Bakura returned the smile, and for once it was a true smile, not that infuriating smirk. He leaned closer again, and this time Marik responded to the kiss, winding his arms around Bakura's neck as he pressed them closer together. With every touch, every moment that passed, Marik found it easier and easier to believe that Bakura really was the stranger he had spoken to so easily. And he was glad.