So I'm starting a new story! I'm aiming to have this mostly written within the month because that's when I go to uni, and studying physics means I won't have much time for writing at all. I'll be updating this as and when I can, hopefully I can stay a few chapters ahead of my updates. Anyway, enjoy this thief/death shipping story, dear reader, and if you have time I would love to hear what you think.

Note that the rating of this fic will be going up later.

Warnings: Strong language, eventual yaoi.

Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh, and I won't for this whole story so I'm doing a blanket disclaimer right now. I won't own it for the entirety of this fic!

Enjoy!

DustyStars

Chapter 1- Killing Time

Marik sighed as his fingers moved across the keyboard of the laptop. He was replying to yet another internet advertisement asking for talented artists: it was the third one this month. The sound of clicking was the only noise in the apartment he shared with Ryou Bakura, as his friend was currently out at university.

Marik had recently moved to Domino from Egypt seeking work and intending to live on his own, but he had bumped into his old friend and Ryou had been kind enough to allow him to move in. The two had met when Marik had last visited Domino last year. They had both applied for the same job in a coffee shop and had talked before the interviews. Neither of them had been successful but the friendship had been formed, and both of them had been sad when Marik had to return to Egypt a couple of months later.

Ryou had been overjoyed to see Marik in Domino again, and had wasted no time in finding out how long he would be there for and where he was staying. When he had found out that the Egyptian was currently staying in a hotel, he had insisted that Marik come and live with him. That had been three months ago and Marik was still out of a job.

He finally finished the tedious application and sent it off with a satisfied 'click'. He had an interview tomorrow, but in the likely event that he was rejected again he needed some form of back-up. He felt bad that Ryou used the money he got from his father on the rent when Marik himself should be contributing.

The nineteen year old turned off the laptop and stretched slowly before looking at his watch. He had a couple of hours to kill before Ryou got home so he decided to go for a walk. The white haired boy had said something about some of his coursemates coming over for the evening, and Marik wanted to be out of the way for as long as possible. He could be confident when he wanted to be, but most of the time he preferred his own company over others, other than Ryou of course.

Marik stood and headed down the hall to his room which was at the very end. He entered, grabbed a purple hoodie out of his wardrobe and hunted under the bed to find his boots. The rest of the apartment was kept clean and tidy by Ryou, but Marik's room had clothes strewn over the floor and most available surfaces were cluttered with various items that could only be describes as 'stuff'. He wasn't exactly the tidiest of people.

He finally found his boots and pulled them on before retrieving his phone, wallet and keys and heading out of the door. It was a cool February afternoon with the sun shining weakly through the clouds and a slight breeze that ruffled Marik's hair. He shivered slightly: he still wasn't quite used to the cooler weather having grown up in Egypt.

After locking the door he set off towards the right where he knew there were more open spaces and it was quieter. The left path would have taken him into the centre of the city. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked and wished he'd brought his gloves, but continued walking regardless. He passed the tall, imposing building that was KaibaCorp on his right after about twenty minutes, and half an hour later he was into the parkland that stretched for a few miles and was practically deserted this time of year.

Entering the park Marik wondered for the hundredth time in the last few months whether it had been a good idea for him to leave Egypt in the first place. He had had his reasons for leaving: his father was a cruel man who took great delight in the pain of others, and eventually it had become too much. After his siblings, Odion and Ishizu, had been forced to move out Marik had been subject to his father's bad moods and drinking habits. The only reason he had been allowed to visit Domino last year was the promise of money to his father. When none had materialised Marik had been forced to return home to the abuse for another year until his brother and sister had intervened, finally breaking his father's hold on him.

That was how he came to be here, halfway around the world and living with the only person outside his family that cared about him. Marik owed a lot to Ryou, he knew that, but he sometimes wondered if the gentle boy was simply taking pity on him, an idea that made him feel sick.

The Egyptian wandered over to a clump of trees and settled on the hard ground beneath them. He watched as a family made their way through the otherwise quiet park. The mother was pushing a pram with a baby and the father was chasing a couple of other children, laughing as they went. They all looked happy. As Marik watched he found himself wishing he had grown up with a family like that: his childhood had consisted of fear and constant worry, most of which he still possessed.

The family continued their progress through the park, eventually reaching the gates and disappearing from Marik's sight, leaving him alone again. He didn't mind being alone, he was used to it and it gave him time to think. Usually when he wanted to think he would disappear into his studio in the apartment to draw or paint. That was how he had spent most of his time in Egypt- it allowed him to block out thoughts of the real world and forget, even just for a little while. His teachers at school had soon picked up on his talent, and encouraged him to practice and improve. So Marik had become an artist.

He had started small, practicing sketches, in a pad of paper Ishizu had given him, late at night, so his father wouldn't see. As he had got better he had progressed to larger drawings on bigger sheets of paper, and then he had added colour, losing himself in the way the colours blended on the paper to create new shades and add warmth to his pictures. He would draw anything, from plants and animals to people and buildings. It was the one thing in his life that kept him going.

Marik stared out across the deserted space. He was certainly happier here that he had been before, he was free from the constant fear that had followed him like a shadow, but still, he felt that something was missing. He could only assume it was due to him not having a job yet- he wanted to show the world what he could do but there were so many other talented artists that standing out from the crowd was a difficult thing to do.

Marik was unaware of how long he sat there, watching as the sun moved across the sky, lengthening the shadows of the trees until most of the park had lost its light. It was only as the air grew cold around him that Marik realised how late it was. He had been sat there for at least three hours without even realising it. Sure enough, as he stood up his phone vibrated, signalling a text from Ryou.

'Where r u? Friends are here, hope ur on the way back AS FAST AS POSSIBLE!'

The tanned teen smiled slightly as he replied saying he was on his way before pocketing his phone and heading towards the exit of the park. He didn't really fancy the hour long walk back the apartment, so instead called the number of the nearest taxi service and gave them his location. After being told he would be picked up in five minutes he headed to a nearby bench to wait.

Once again he got lost in his thoughts. This time he was wondering who Ryou had invited over to the apartment. He often had people over actually, he could be quite the socialite when he wanted to be, and was quite popular due to the fact that he would do anything for anyone. The course he was studying at university was Literature, so there were a lot of different types of people on the course with him, and he seemed to be friends with most of them. It also meant he wasn't at the university every day as the course mainly required reading around the subject out of hours.

Marik was just wondering what his chances were of sneaking by unnoticed (slim to non-existent) when he was interrupted by and aggressive car horn.

He jumped in surprise and looked up to see the taxi had arrived. He stood and hurried over to the vehicle, opening the door and sliding onto the backseat.

"182 Cordon Road, please," he said to the driver whose face he couldn't see. He soon realised this was because the man was actually looking at his phone instead of paying attention to his passenger.

"Hey," Marik said irritably. "Are you going to do your job or not?" Once again the man ignored him. Marik growled in frustration before deciding to tap the driver on the shoulder. "Anyone in there?" he practically shouted.

The man finally shut his phone off and pocketed it, before turning in his seat so that his face could finally be seen. Marik couldn't help it- he gasped. He had never seen anyone like the man before him now. He had pure white unruly hair, a little like Ryou's actually, and a piercing gaze that was currently fixed on Marik. His eyes were a deep brown with a hint of dark red that gave them an almost eerie quality, and they were certainly nothing like Ryou's. Marik found himself unable to look away.

He looked a little older than Marik, maybe early twenties, but it was hard to tell in the poor lighting. The man said something to him- Marik could see his lips moving- but the words fell on deaf ears.

Marik physically shook himself before saying, "S-sorry?" He was immediately embarrassed by the stutter but hey, it wasn't his fault his driver had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

The driver simply quirked an eyebrow at him and replied, "I said, 'I heard you the first time'. No need to shout, kid." He had an accent, but the Egyptian was too taken aback to place it.

"Hey, who are you calling kid?" he opted to ask instead, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

The driver simply smirked before turning to face the road and finally started the car. "Well unless you brought along an imaginary friend then you can assume I'm talking to you. Kid."

"Don't call me that," Marik growled. "You don't look much older than me yourself."

"Ah but looks can always be deceiving, can't they?" British, Marik decided. That was definitely a British accent, not quite as heavy as Ryou's but it was still there.

They were silent for a couple of seconds as the driver pulled away from the kerb and set off down the street.

"So, good evening?" the man asked just as Marik thought he might have got away without more talking.

"None of your business," he said a little sharper than intended.

There was a chuckle from the front seat. "Oh so that's how it is, huh? You think I'm beneath you so you're just not going to talk to me at all?"

Marik wasn't sure how to respond to that. The voice continued. "Well if you're going to be so high and mighty about it then I could just leave you here and make you walk home."

"And if you did that I'd call your employer and get you fired," Marik shot back, pleased he had actually found intelligent something to say.

"Go ahead, I don't really care anyway," the driver said. "Wouldn't be the first time I've been fired, I'm sure I'll live. The name's Bakura by the way. Bakura Tozokou if you ever feel like booting me out of another job." He gave a mocking laugh. "Bet you wouldn't do it anyway, kid."

Marik was once again taken aback by the man's behaviour. He obviously didn't care about what happened to him at all. They were silent for a few minutes as the scenery changed to show more built-up areas. Marik was thinking he might have got away without any more talking before the driver broke the silence again.

"So if you don't like me calling you kid, what's your name?"

"I'm not just going to give a stranger my name," Marik said with exasperation, wondering why he was cursed with the employee who seemed to want to annoy him to extremes.

"Fine, be that way, I was just trying to be friendly, and believe me, I don't do that very often," Bakura returned. "You should actually feel honoured that I even talked to you at all."

Marik openly laughed at that. "I should feel honoured that you keep interrupting my train of thought? Oh sure I do, please, interrupt some more!"

Bakura grinned. "But of course, after all you seem far too easily wound up by me; it's too fun an opportunity for me to pass up on."

"Oh, lucky me," Marik muttered quietly, earning a chuckle from his wayward driver.

"As it is, it seems you actually are in luck, we're here."

'Thank God!" Marik thought as he flew out of the door just as the car stopped. He headed quickly round to the driver's side, where the window was down and Bakura was looking out expectantly. Marik opened his wallet and paid him, but not without saying, "You're lucky I'm even paying you at all."

Bakura took the money before looking directly at Marik with those haunting eyes and saying, deadpan, "If you didn't I would break into your house and take it anyway."

Marik hadn't been expecting that. Unsure of whether Bakura was joking or not, he opted to shrug and turn to go.

"I hope we meet again," a voice sounded behind him. "You're the most interesting customer I've ever had."

Before Marik could turn back and respond the vehicle revved and set off down the road and out of sight. Shaking his head the Egyptian headed up the steps to the door of the apartment, thinking about the man's parting remark.

Was he really interesting? He doubted that. But as much as the driver had wound him up, Marik had somehow found the exchange rather interesting himself. Strange.

As he opened the door he was greeted by the smell of pizza and the sound of voices coming from the living room. It sounded like there were a fair few people in there. Just when he wanted to be alone and think. Bracing himself, Marik threw his keys into the bowl on the table, slipped his boots off and headed towards the living room.

As he entered the smell of alcohol hit him. Marik took note of the unnatural brightness in Ryou's eyes as the small boy came and greeted him, and realised that he was expected to join him and his friends.

There was a small boy with multi-coloured hair in the corner- Yugi, Marik had met him a couple of times before. A brown haired girl named Anzu and a blonde called Mai were also present. Marik made a mental note to avoid them for the evening, as both of them had hit on him the last time they had spoken and, being a little drunk at the time, he had rejected them rather more forcefully than intended. It wasn't that he didn't like them, it was just the awkwardness that he felt whenever a girl started making a move on him- it often gave him a sense of great distaste and he had no idea why.

He eventually identified the other people in the room as Jonouchi Katsuya, Hiroto Honda and Ryuji Otogi. He often tried to steer clear of those three too- they were alright but a little too cliché as far as university students went, always getting drunk and trying to pull girls. Marik sighed and headed towards the nearest bottle. He knew Ryou would never let him leave- the white haired boy was always encouraging him to widen his social circle and often made him endure parties such as this. Marik didn't mind too much, but right now all he wanted to do was go to his studio and work on his current piece.

However as Mai and Anzu started dancing with Jou and Ryuji, Marik knew it wasn't going to happen. Opening the bottle, he decided to take the viewpoint of 'If you can't beat them, join them'.