You can't banish a mental disorder

Ryou had never liked the lapses in his memory. The times when he would be doing something completely mundane and then find himself in a horrible situation were by far the worse. More often than not, though, he would often find himself in his apartment or bed. It was a strange consideration the spirit always had; to make sure Ryou knew where he was when he awoke. The few times Ryou woke up in strange scenarios were usually out of the spirit's hands or a key point of a plan.

Either way, he didn't like it.

He had always assumed that when the spirit had control of his body he was up to no good, doing misdeeds and causing havoc for his friends… the last thing he expected was the spirit to be out making acquaintances and recruiting new roommates. And the thought troubled Ryou more than he cared to admit. You see, all this time Ryou had reasoned the spirit was an un-reasonable force of evil, hell-bent on destruction, but this new development seemed oddly… human. And normal. And other than a little unsettling to Ryou's own personal life, the act was not destructive at all.

Not every moment of my life is dedicated to making yours a nightmare, landlord, the unsettling voice called from the back of Ryou's head, causing him to shiver and shake off that particular train of thought. Despite having lived with the other in his head for the better part of seven years, he still managed to let his thoughts wander, even when he knew the other was listening.

Gathering himself back up, he pulled on the strap of his messenger bag and continued down the chilly streets. The road was layered with a thin sheen of frost, and the trees that lined the way were barren and dark, twisting up in a stark contrast against the pale grey sky. The simple task of going to the shop had led him to ponder on the thoughts that had plagued him… As far as he could tell, Malik had been living with them for two weeks now and Ryou had barely been conscious for a second of it… It made him wonder what on earth the former-thief and former-tomb keeper got up to.

That's hardly any of your concern.

Ryou frowned at the intrusion on his thoughts again and hurried up his pace. He knew the sooner he was inside, the sooner Bakura would take over once again. Of course, the spirit left going outside in the cold to his host…

Once the apartment complex was in sight Ryou's pace quickened to a jog. He pushed the front door open and continued to jog lightly up the stairs, his once shivering self now warming up under his layers of clothes. Once he reached the door of his own flat, his numb fingers fumbled with the keys for a moment before gaining control and successfully managing to swing the door open. Just as the door opened, the world began to fall out of definition just as he had assumed it would. The world blurred in and out of focus before he was pushed aside.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo oo

"Welcome back~" Malik cheered in a traditional greeting, peering over his shoulder to see the flushed white haired man stripping off his outer clothes. "What happened to you?"

Bakura huffed and dumped Ryou's clothes and bag on the sofa before swinging the small plastic bag on his wrist and walking over to the small kitchenette. "He decided to run… the rest of the way," he explained with a grunt.

Malik raised an eyebrow; in his time living here he had discovered the host could be particularly… odd, at times. "Riiight, did you get what I needed?"

"Yes, although I fail to see the point… No matter how extravagant a dish you attempt, you will never be any good," Bakura criticized blandly and earned a glare from the blond.

"At least I'm trying to learn!" Malik protested as he took the plastic bag from the other and started to go through to check that the thief hadn't forgotten anything vital until something caught his eye. He pulled out a clear bottle and read the label, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Why did you buy vodka?"

"What? Hm…" Bakura's attention had been momentarily distracted by the TV atop the fridge before it was brought back to the other. "I've never seen you drunk. I thought it could be amusing considering at the best of times you talk like a drunken buffoon."

Malik decided not to dignify that remark with a response and started to unpack the ingredients onto the counter top. Bakura's attention stayed on the TV until he finally had the sense to perch himself on a stool, while the blond busied himself with attempting to fight a battle he was bound to lose.

Bakura snorted a little as Malik cursed under his breath for the umpteenth time. He was obviously struggling and kept running from the stove over to a set of papers he had perched awkwardly against the bread bin.

"Shit, I wasn't meant to put the rice in with the meat…"

Despite his better judgment Bakura acknowledged the other's distress, "What are you even trying to make?"

"Hayashi Raisu," Malik replied offhandedly as he thoroughly went through the printed notes.

Bakura raised an eyebrow, having known the dish but whatever it was Malik was preparing looked very unlike what he knew. "…The rice and meet go separate. Actually… I think most dishes served with rice don't actually cook them in the same pot,"

"I know that now." Malik snapped back, and Bakura felt his lips twitch into a smirk; it was a rare thing for him to wind up the other.

"I told you it was hopeless… surely there was a picture you could of used for guidance."

"On the laptop yes but your host doesn't have a damned printer!" Malik growled as he started to tear up the notes and then pour them into the pot on the stove.

"…What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Bakura leaped from the stool and stared, as Malik apparently seemed to have snapped completely.

"Giving up!" Malik yelled as he frantically grabbed at the cooking utensils and started to throw them into the pot too.

"You bloody lunatic, you're going to cause a fire!" Bakura growled before darting around the counter island and grabbing the blonde's arms. Malik threw his head back and started to laugh inanely, "Cooking is for women anyway!"

Bakura managed to successfully swing the other around and away from danger, swivelling back towards the stove. Quickly, he turned everything that could potentially cause a fire off before he turned around again to stare at the blond with a seething growl. He happened to quite like this apartment, and for the blond to use his things—his host's things—with so little consideration…

Malik had fallen against the counter top, his face buried in his arms, laughing hysterically. So much so he almost sounded like he was crying.

"You're an utterly hopeless fool," Bakura snarled before walking around the other and towards the bedroom, allowing his grip on the host's body to fall away and watched as things began to blur around him. He wasn't going to deal with Malik when he was in this state. He knew it best to leave the blond alone before things got terribly out of control.

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Ryou felt his body come back to him with a rather sudden jolt. He wasn't exactly sure why until he found that his body had been rather unceremoniously dumped face first on the bed just between the transitions of souls. Ryou huffed at the spirit's lack of consideration and pulled himself into a sitting position, calming his beating heart. He blinked and placed a hand to his chest, his heart was thudding under his shirt… had the spirit been angry?

"Bakura!" The bedroom door suddenly swung open, revealing Malik standing there like a coiled spring.

Ryou felt his thudding heart go suddenly still. During Malik's stay Ryou had come to know what he called Malik's 'half state'. It was a strange deluded state the blond would get himself into when stressed or annoyed or sometimes utterly unprovoked. It was a cross between his normal self and the darker half that had been banished to the Shadow Realm back in Battle City. It caused the blond to become utterly untameable and unreasonable, and Ryou had learnt the hard way Bakura had no intentions of being around when the blond threw himself into this deranged tantrum. So Ryou was often left to deal with the rampaging blond.

"Ugh," The blond looked at Ryou in distaste. "You," he spat in annoyance, obviously having been looking for the other soul that inhabited Ryou's body. Without another condescending word, the blond left the room and stormed back into the living area, giving Ryou the opportunity to scramble off the bed with the intentions of getting out of the apartment until the blond had calmed down. He hurried into the lounge to see Malik throwing things carelessly around the kitchenette, but Ryou paid no mind and instead focused on gathering his coat and other things from the sofa where the spirit had carelessly dumped them.

"Wait," the voice called from the other side of the room, and Ryou hesitantly turned around to face the half state. Malik was leant over the counter of the island that separated the small kitchen from the lounge, pointing a clear bottle in Ryou's direction. "Open this for me."

Ryou slowly turned and walk towards the other, glad there was a countertop between them, as he reached out and took the bottle from the blond. He eyed the bottle with concern before doing as the other commanded, and his worry hitched up another notch. "Vodka?"

"Yes, well done cotton ball you can read. Now open it for me would you?"

Ryou hesitated again. Was giving the half state alcohol a particularly good idea? No. He didn't need to think about that very long at all… giving alcohol to Malik's half-mad self was not a good idea at all. Without thinking, he turned and quickly headed towards the front door, grabbing his keys and shoes as he went, deciding to forget his jacket for now.

"Hey!" the blond growled, and just as Ryou had managed to get his hands on the door, his whole body was slammed roughly against it. "Cotton ball, really now, you shouldn't test my patience. I've been an awfully good tenant so far, haven't I stayed out of your way? Much more than Bakura has I must say. Now, it would be a shame if I had reason not to be such a good little tenant, so be a good landlordand hand me the bottle again," the blond hissed into Ryou's ear in a scarily similar tone to the one Bakura used to address him. "Oh, and open it for me too if you wouldn't mind," He added as an after thought.

Ryou decided to forgo being a good influence and nodded his head obediently just before the blond swung him around and pushed his back against the door. Malik stepped back, giving Ryou his space, and then he held out his hand expectantly, waiting for Ryou's compliance.

Ryou dropped the shoes he held in one hand to grip the bottle with both hands now, his palms sweaty from the initial panic he felt for being around the uncontrollable blond, and then twisted the cap off with little difficulty and handed it to Malik. To Ryou's surprise, Malik didn't take the bottle. Instead, he stared at it, his smooth, tanned forehead crinkled in deep thought… he actually looked a little pained. Eventually those colourful eyes travelled up to look at Ryou, his teeth gnawing into his own lips, and again Ryou found reason to be scared. The blond looked like he was trying to restrain something, to stop something from pouring out or exploding from him.

"M-Malik?" he stuttered out despite himself, feeling genuine concern for Malik's well being even though he was caught up in his half state.

Malik chuckled and shook his head. "No… I don't think so."

"…W-what?"

Suddenly a large, tanned hand grabbed his face and slammed Ryou's head against the wooden door much rougher than before. He felt his neck crack painfully at the sudden forceful motion and the open bottle of vodka fell from his hand. He heard it smash against the floor, falling into hundreds of tiny glass splinters. Ryou barely had a moment to react before the world blurred and fizzled around him, and for once he gladly handed over control to the spirit.

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A/N who's that I spy? A psyco in the sky~