2.

Bakura exhaled deeply as the rain pelted him, taking in the petrichor scent in the hopes this stimulus alone could purge the events from a few minutes ago from his mind. His forearms were still tingling after his elbows were rammed into the wall when Marik shoved him. His host's voice rang out in urgency, piercing through the sound of pouring rain.

What was that for?

What was what for? He thought it was quite explanatory.

You didn't have to leave him alone back there!

I would've appreciated if he let us process what he was trying to tell me rather than force himself onto me. It was this sort of back and forth banter between host and spirit that was most of the reason Bakura did not respond to Marik's outburst before.

Could you at least give a better reason than that? I know you were lying about not having a weapon on you, too.

Bakura grumbled and touched his front pocket of the trousers he was wearing, touching the bulge made from a Swiss-army knife being carried inside; a gift from Marik ironically enough.

I just need to process what the hell is going on, host. That was most uncharacteristic of him.

A soft sigh echoed in Bakura's mind; he could almost see his host shaking his head and putting a hand to his temple in annoyance. It's obvious to me that he's taken a liking to you. Why else would he say what he did?

A liking for me? This was ridiculous. Marik should've known what he was getting into, so why did he bother making an attachment, and in such a small amount of time?

Yes, Ryou went on, he's afraid of losing touch with you because you mean so much to him. You're probably the very first person he's ever felt this way about.

A poor choice on his part.

Perhaps, but don't you think you should at least give him a chance? Why were they still even discussing this? Ryou should be well-aware they were busy planning the despise of his friends. Was this a ruse to distract them?

I don't have time for matters like this, host. You should learn to mind your own business.

Ryou was not easy to let up. Well, what was that remark about how you don't own the body you're inhabiting? The one Marik pressed against the wall and kissed? At that rate, I should have as much say in this as you.

Bakura scoffed. And how do I know you're just not trying to distract us from reaching our goals, from assassinating Yugi and accessing the power of all seven Items.

He could almost hear the smirk in his host's reply. I don't need to do that when you two have been slipping up plenty before this morning's fiasco.

Bakura felt in that moment Ryou should consider himself lucky that it was impossible for the two of them to inhabit the same physical space at once, for he might have just received a similar response to Marik's behavior earlier. For now, he would just have to settle with more scolding. Hilarious. Accusations aside, you're basically telling me to give him a chance and let chance take control?

That's right. I think we both know what I'd be doing to keep you from my friends, and it'd be far worse for both of us than asking you to let someone display their affection for you.

This was true. Bakura almost shuddered at the memories of the handful of times Ryou had attempted to sacrifice himself when things got bad. He shouldn't worry so much about having his plans foiled with a simple matchmaking session, given these past experiences.

Fine, he finally said, I'll let him try it, but there is no promise I'll ever reciprocate his feelings.

Ryou gave a final reply before Bakura could sense him drifting into unconsciousness. That's the thing about falling in love, spirit. It doesn't happen on purpose.

By the time Bakura returned to the alleyway, it was still raining and a few puddles had formed. Marik was standing upright, his clothes and hair soaked. He turned at the sound of the splashes from the other's footsteps.

"So," he said flatly, "are you done recollecting your dignity?" Bakura could see that his whites of his eyes were slightly red from being strained by something, and his face appeared to be a bit wet. Something told Bakura it wasn't rainwater, and there was also a slightly uncharacteristic nasal sound to his voice when he spoke.

"Yes. If you'd like we can get back to our original plan for the day rather than sulking around."

Marik shivered. "I'd prefer to move somewhere warmer, where we're less likely to contract a debilitating illness from the weather."

"As you wish," Bakura replied, feeling a small chill as well though paying it little mind. "It may interest you to know that my host has given us permission to use his flat as a refuge from the storm, provided of course that we don't make a mess."

It wasn't entirely true, but he felt Ryou wouldn't mind as long as they kept things looking fairly normal and didn't make too much noise.

"Oh, really?" Marik raised a brow in semi-interest. He was the only one of the two to show his base of operations, but he didn't seem as enthused by the idea as he was saying he might be; even his voice seemed unusually flat. Bakura considered asking what was wrong, but he felt what he had already done earlier would just make things hurt more.

"Come along," Bakura continued, motioning the other forward with his hand, "we don't want to sit out in the cold for too long, do we?"

Marik said nothing and simply followed Bakura. They wound through the alleyways and the streets in silence; Bakura mostly trying to pry Ryou for directions to the flat and Marik following without a word to say. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so quiet...

When they finally arrived at the flat, the rain had settled a bit but both boys were soaked from the downpour. They went inside quickly, Marik actually throwing off his shirt and wringing it out in the kitchen sink.

"I don't know if I'm ever going to get used to how humid it is here," he said, flattening his shirt and smoothing out the wrinkles.

"You might not if you're still not planning on staying for very long," Bakura told him.

Marik glanced up at him, his eyes narrowed a bit in annoyance.

"I may as well make plans to leave soon what with the way things have been going. Can I borrow a hanger?"

Bakura took a moment to look through the flat for a spare clothes hanger, handing one to Marik once he found one.

"It's small, but it's pretty tidy here." Marik was looking around a bit more, taking in what little the small flat had to offer compared to his own hideout.

"I really don't spend that much time here," Bakura explained, "I let my host go about his daily routines here undisturbed unless it's urgent. He doesn't like it when I mess with his things."

Marik gave a hollow laugh. "I've noticed there are a lot of things you two don't see eye-to-eye on." He hung up his shirt on a doorknob for the time being, standing topless in the middle of the flat. The window had been left open and he made his way toward it. "The view is nice from here."

Bakura shrugged. "I suppose so." From here he could see the marks carved into Marik's back, his token for vengeance. While there was certainly something familiar about the hieroglyphs, Bakura could not decipher them. He wondered if this had to do with Ryou's own lack of knowledge on the subject or perhaps something he was at fault for.

"I'm going to make something hot to drink," Marik said, pulling Bakura out of his wandering thoughts, "and then we'll get to the subject we've been trying to get to." He rummaged through the kitchen to put something together.

"You know how to cook?"

"Of course I do." He didn't turn around, but the annoyance in his voice was there, and seemingly heavier than usual; his patience was wearing thin. Bakura half expected him to offer lessons of culinary variety, but the conversation was cut short again. He was starting to feel strange with the silence Marik was forcing, almost uncomfortable.

He sat down at the table and waited for Marik to finish in the kitchen, drumming his fingers in time with the rain outside. A few minutes later, a mug full of hot red liquid was placed in front of him. Marik sat at the other side of the table, already taking a drink.

Bakura stared at the drink for a moment. The crimson color appealed to him greatly; he seemed to be drawn to warmer colors. He slowly raised the mug and took an experimental sip. The drink was slightly bitter, but not unpleasantly so. It was still enough that he pulled away for a moment in surprise.

"Hibiscus," Marik said.

"What?"

"The tea. It's hibiscus. I was surprised to find some in the cupboard; it's a bit of a staple back home." Marik had another drink before giving a sigh of content and setting the mug down. Bakura had a few more sips as well, starting to enjoy the taste after a moment.

"Now, do you think we're ready to discuss things?" Bakura asked with a small smirk.

Marik settled a bit in his seat and gave a half-hearted smile. Still out of character, but it was the only queue he needed to give.