The sky was clear and star-flecked, the air cool but not too cold. Marik had lost track of where they were...somewhere in France, perhaps. Their clothes were tattered from life on the road, but not so much that Bakura would dip into his host's funds for new ones. A blanket from Ryo's apartment, more threadbare than it could have ever dreamed of being back in Domino City, was spread out at the base of a hill where they had decided to stop for the night.
They barely spoke...were they anyone else, they would have been asleep hours ago. Anyone else would be at home, curled up in bed or watching late night shows on tv. Anyone else wouldn't have gotten their food from raiding an open-air market or been kicked out of their seedy by-the-hour motel for being too loud, both within hours of each other.
Bakura tore into a stolen orange, throwing the peel away from their blanket. He ripped it in half and tossed a piece to Marik, who caught it effortlessly. The citrus sweetness ran over his tongue and dribbled down his chin as his eyes turned to the sky. The same sky that he had seen through the hole in the tomb's ceiling as a child, that hung over his brother and sister even now. He calmly wondered how they were, though he knew Odion and Ishizu could take care of themselves. In truth, he wasn't worried about much of anything for the moment...they had been wandering for long enough that sleeping on hillsides was almost the norm, and he knew that they'd manage to find their way to somewhere new by the same time tomorrow. They weren't searching for anything in particular, besides maybe a little adventure. They already knew where home was.
Noiselessly their hands found each other, fingers interlocking as Marik rolled closer, pressing his lips to the side of the pale face. He had given up searching for the words to tell Bakura what their being together meant, how much this trip mattered...they both knew in their own silent way. They showed it in every glance, every moment, every brush of skin against skin.
Their serenade was only the chirp of crickets and the far-off whir of cars on a highway, the only light from the stars and the tiniest shaving of a moon. With Marik's head resting on Bakura's shoulder, their hands laced together, they watched the night fade to morning.