A fair warning: this chapter is all over the place. All. Over. The. Place. Because I write drabbles, and when you try and put drabbles into a chapter-story...well. It doesn't seem to work out so great sometimes.
000
The days went by slow, and boring. Ryou slept a lot, the heat and darkness making him sleepy all the time, along with his still healing body. Mariku would often dab his wounds with more beeswax and he found the oily feeling bothersome. His shirts often stuck tight to his skin, and he was constantly pulling at them with great annoyance.
He had come to realize that Mariku did not eat very much. Ryou was not used to this, and often found himself pestering Mariku for food. He felt like a dog begging for scraps, and was embarrassed every time he felt hungry. Yet Mairku was a good caretaker, never openly miffed by Ryou's appetite.
He ate all sorts of weird, new things: porcupine, squirrel, small birds, rabbits. Small things with barely enough meat on them for a quick snack, the large animals lasting only a day or two. And then, by a bit of luck and chance, Mariku had managed to nail himself a caribou. Ryou had asked him how on earth he had done so, to which Mariku had shrugged, a longbow slung across his back. He had returned to the cabin to gather supplies for butchering it.
Ryou had offered to help out with the large animal, though Mariku was hesitant to agree with allowing his proposal. He was weary of Ryou's wounds and strength, or if he even had the stomach for it. Ryou wasn't going to take "no" for an answer, and had pointedly argued for the sake of "fresh air" and "a change of scenery", to which Mariku couldn't dispute. The animal had been taken down relatively close to the cabin, down on a frozen lake that Ryou hadn't even known existed. They traveled on a well-used trail that led down to a fishing hole that was frozen over, a small log set next to it to be used as a makeshift chair. There were multiple hoof prints scattered all over the place, weaving through the trees and across the bare snow along the edges of the lake.
A small trail of blood had led them back to the caribou, lying against the cold snow, nearly to the other side of the small lake. It had made a last break for the woods, frenzied in its attempt to outrun its death. The caribou was a dark mass against the great expanse of the white wasteland. It was still, blood spilling from its nose and mouth, blossoming out on the snow like a macabre flower. An arrow was set deep into the animal, between the shoulder and belly. Ryou stared, saddened for a moment, then jumped slightly as it moved. Feeling stupid, he realized Mariku had rolled it slightly. He pushed it to its side, then lifted its back leg up, looking to Ryou, "Hold this," he mumbled.
Ryou tentatively did so, reaching out a gloved hand and grasping the leg just below the hoof. Mariku took a large knife out, and carefully stuck the blade into the beast's crotch area, and Ryou had to look away.
The way Mariku had easily cut into the animal had made Ryou a bit nervous. The quick, precise, and perfect movements. Practiced. It was almost sickening at how effortless it was to him. The hot, coppery smell of blood met Ryou's nostrils, and it almost made him gag. Mariku was careful, slicing up to the caribou's neck, then splitting it open as the guts came out in a massive pile. Ryou released the animal's leg in shock, and jumped away, eyes wide as the insides steamed in the cold air.
"Oh, no, ew ew ew ew, what," Ryou shook his hands in distress, "No. No no no. Ew."
Mariku made a funny noise at him in amusement, a sort of cross between a snort and laugh. It was the first time Ryou had seen that sort of reaction from him, "It's not funny! It's gross," he laughed tensely, completely mortified.
Mariku didn't say anything, and simply indicated for Ryou to grasp the leg once more. Stepping to a more favorable position, Ryou grabbed the leg again, leaning away as far as he could. He grimaced as Mariku began to cut around the leg, cutting away the skin. After a few moments, he felt the leg shift, and it popped out. He screamed, startled, and released it. It fell to the snow, and he began to shake his hands again, a small squeal stuck in the back of his throat.
He repeated this three other times, and before long all four of the legs were lying out against the snow. Mariku had then taken an axe to the poor animal, hacking at the neck to release it from the ribs. Ryou had wandered away at this point, losing any and all interest over the gruesome display. He walked over to the frozen fishing hole, staring at it longingly. He wanted to go fishing later.
Finally finished, Mariku clicked his tongue, then washed his knife and axe in the snow. He tied a thick rope around the bottom part of a leg in preparation for hauling it back to the cabin. He shouted for Ryou, who was slightly offended by having to go back to the revolting display so soon. He'd rather just waltz right back up to the cabin and let Mariku do the rest of the work.
Ryou had dredged back over to the grotesque pile of guts and blood, dully realizing that Mariku had also sawed the antlers off. Ryou had assumed that it was a male due to its relatively small display. Mariku was quick to correct him, and he assumed that carrying the rack across his back had been a sort of punishment for getting the gender confused. It gave him chills thinking about the bloody scalp slung across his back, though he wasn't too keen on carrying what Mariku had: the thick, heavy legs.
They made multiple trips back and forth. Ryou had ended up carrying the ribs, and the pelt once Mariku had skinned it. "Blanket," Mariku had replied to Ryou's inquisitive stare.
Mariku acted quick to wash off the antlers and set them on the porch. A small trophy that Ryou thought pointless. He had also helped Mariku hang the legs and skin in one of the sheds, and had gotten thoroughly bloody in the process. Disgusted, he had stared Mariku down, silently boring into his mind to go and warm the sauna shed.
Mariku must have had the same thought process, as he had teetered off down the pathway, carrying a small armful of firewood. Waiting in the cabin, Ryou had simply sat at the table, miffed and revolted, too irritated to move. He hated the feeling of the blood flaking and peeling from him. He also hated the smell. The solemn, putrid smell of death and blood. He decided that he wouldn't help Mariku with a kill ever again.
When the sauna shed was ready, Mariku had let Ryou bathe first, in privacy, to which Ryou was very grateful. He had resorted to several spitbaths before, realizing that the sauna shed was more of a pain than he knew of, and Mariku wasn't one to constantly have it available. After his bath, he had snuggled into his massive pile of blankets, waiting for Mariku to return with his borrowed shampoo and conditioner bottles.
000
Mariku was quiet. He never said anything unless spoken to, and even then, he was curt and didn't elaborate. When he wasn't out scrounging for something to eat, he had stayed in the cabin with Ryou, dealing with pelts, wood, teeth and bones. He made things. Made little pieces of dead animals and wood into beautiful works of art. Jewelry from bones and teeth, hats and gloves out of fur. He carved little figures and toys out of wood. He used cut up patterns, yellowed and falling apart. They were old, but they still did their job. Ryou wondered how Mariku learned how to use them, or how to sew for that matter. The stitching on his items was phenomenal, and Ryou was grateful that Mariku had known what he was doing with his wound.
Ryou had asked him why he made these things, and why so many. "Trade," was the short answer. It was partially true, but Mariku would never say that they also helped him heal his mental wounds. To create something, rather than destroy it.
When Mariku wasn't using the carving tool set and knives, Ryou would sometimes work on his own little carvings to chase away the boredom. They were the same kind that he made for table top games back home. He even wound up making a little Mariku figure, complete with a fur coat and little fur boots.
Sometimes, they would play cards. Not Duel Monsters, as neither one of them had a deck with them, and the memories of the game probably would have hurt. They used regular playing cards, the edges yellow, the paper thin and wispy. Rummy was a favorite, though Ryou had to teach Mariku how to play at first. Mariku had been used to solitaire, but he was open for something new.
At times, Mariku would leave the cabin for a long time, though he told Ryou he wasn't hunting or setting up snares. Ryou wondered what he was doing, and had half-stalked him once, just to find out. Taking a peek outside and around the corner of the cabin, he had watched Mariku go into one of the sheds, and, curious, Ryou had followed.
He had been slow and quiet when he approached the shed, or at least he thought he was. Mariku was staring at him from the doorway, his face blank. Ryou had stopped walking, feeling a bit awkward for being caught so easily. Mariku was obviously not going to make a move, as he simply stood there, staring Ryou down, completely devoid of any relative expression.
"So. Uh. What're you doing?" Ryou asked, feeling stupid.
Mariku averted his gaze from Ryou, contemplating. He then motioned for Ryou to follow him into the shed before ducking into the doorway. Feeling a bit uneasy, Ryou followed. He could hear the telltale crackle of a fire. The shed was hot, the air thick. It almost reminded him of the sauna shed. Looking around, he was a bit confused. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. Strange copper barrels, tubes, crates, some wooden barrels. He noticed a pile of potatoes and corn sitting in a large galvanized bucket, unthawing. He had to fight the sudden urge to eat them, and briefly wondered why Mariku had been hiding them. In a corner lay a few bags with mysterious contents, along with several tools.
"What is this?"
"A distillery."
"For what?"
Mariku was quiet for a moment, then "Moonshine."
Ryou couldn't help himself, and burst out into laughter. The concept was so horribly absurd and seemed so utterly random, "No way."
Mariku didn't know how to respond to this, so he stayed quiet.
Calming himself down, Ryou studied everything, attempting to understand. Unable to do so, he bobbed his head to the side, then looked over towards Mariku, who was eyeing him wearily. "This is isn't legal stuff."
Mariku shook his head in confirmation.
"...but then, neither was killing that caribou, I don't think."
Mariku didn't say anything, continuing to stare at Ryou, somewhat afraid of the implications that were being brought down onto him. Mariku knew the laws. Knew he wasn't supposed to kill and eat certain things at a certain time, of a certain gender, make stuff without having a certain piece of paper to say he was of a certain ethnicity...and he definitely knew that he shouldn't be making moonshine, especially if he was selling or trading it. But these were his survival methods. Methods for food and trade. Methods to keep himself alive.
Ryou's expression slackened a bit as he watched Mariku. Fear had ignited in his eyes, and Ryou thought this strange and interesting. With a straight face, he shot his hand out, holding his pinky finger up. "I pinky promise not to tell a single damned soul."
Ryou had added the curse word for extra effect, though he wasn't sure that Mariku was buying it. Mariku stared, wide-eyed at Ryou's little finger, as if it was rotten and gruesome. Ryou raised his eyebrows, wondering if he had perhaps offended Mariku. However, Mariku slowly, hesitantly reached his own pinky finger out, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Ryou laughed softly, then curled his finger around the darkness's own, shaking and jerking it, "Pinky promise," he simpered.
Ryou pretended that he didn't see the small, coy grin curl around Mariku's lips.
000
Ryou had become much more demanding the longer he stayed in the cabin, irritable and easily agitated. A small bout of cabin fever had struck him, and he often lashed out over the smallest of things. Mariku had attempted to steer clear from the whitenette who often mulled around in the cabin, like some foul beast. He had become a festering, pale creature hellbent on any sort of activity that would get him out of the small, hot quarters. He was constantly seeking out something to do, and was easily captured by boredom.
At times he would help Mariku feed the chickens and goats, collecting eggs while Mariku milked the small, female goats. After getting his hair chewed on, and getting rammed in the knee and side, he decided not to go into the goat pen again. Eventually the roosters started attacking him with their spurs, and the hens pecked at his hands. And that was the end of his adventuring with Mariku's pets.
"I want to go fishing."
Mariku looked up from his carving, nervously stealing a glance at the grumpy boy sitting in his bunk, curled up in a mound of blankets. The stormy, intense gaze bore into Mariku's mind. He went back to his carving, pretending he hadn't heard or seen.
"I want to go fishing," he repeated.
Again, Ryou's statement was met without an answer.
"Mariku."
Mariku sighed, "Pointless."
Ryou glared at him, "What's pointless? Going fishing?"
"Yes."
"No. No, it's fish. We can eat it."
Mariku knew he was going to lose this fight. He knew it, but he didn't want to go down so easily.
"We have a lot of food -"
"We've been eating the same food since forever. I'm sick of...all of it. It's all the same and stupid. Fish is good and new and awesome. I want to fish. I want to eat fish. I want to stuff my face with fish."
Mariku still hadn't entirely gotten used to Ryou's bottomless pit of a stomach, nor with Ryou's irked attitude. He always attempted to make sure there was extra food lying around so he could quickly sate the other boy, or provide small tasks for him to do. But it only went so far.
He set his wood carving down on the table, along with the knife, then he rubbed at his face, a bit peeved. He refused to look up at Ryou, knowing it would break him.
"Mariku," Ryou whispered, harshly, "I want to go fishing." He repeated the phrase several times, relentless.
After awhile, Mariku put his hands up, nodding erratically, "Okay, okay."
Ryou's face split into a wide grin as he watched Mariku put his boots and coat on. A hat and some gloves soon followed. He looked at Ryou before leaving through the door, and was a bit miffed at the boy's maniacal, dominating expression.
It was a winner's face.
000
It had been snowing for several hours, big, soft flurries slowly falling to the ground. Agitated, Mariku had dug out a large ice auger from one of the sheds, and drudged down to the lake, breaking a new path in the virgin snow. Huffing, he cranked the auger in the previous hole next to the log-chair he had placed next to it the last time he had decided to fish. He stared off into the white expanse as he cranked, attempting to find the leftover carcass of the caribou across the lake. It had disappeared, and he suspected some sort of animal had drug it off. This slightly worried him, as the beast might be back. He had chickens and goats and he knew their smell was like a a beacon.
He cranked, lower and lower, mind elsewhere. Not paying attention, he was slightly startled when a gush of ice cold water flooded over his boots. Looking down, he pulled out the auger and set it to the side of him, lying flat in the snow. He then removed his gloves, and dug out the remaining ice chunks that were floating to the top of the hole. His hands stung from the shock of cold, the liquid falling freely from his fingers. The ice inside was a smooth blue, the hole deep and dark.
Standing, he brushed the snow off of the log, grabbed the auger and flung it across his back, and drug himself back to the cabin. Too irritated to place the auger back in the shed, he had set it against the wood stacked on the porch, then entered his warm, inviting home. Or so he thought. Ryou was raging around inside, in a mad fit. Mariku was half tempted to leave and wander off in the woods for awhile.
"Where are my boots?" he almost screamed.
Mariku pointed at them, over in the corner of the cabin. He kept his gaze low.
Ryou quickly put them on, pulling and tugging and stomping around once they had encased his feet, "I need a coat. And gloves and a hat."
Mariku attempted to walk over to his bunk to dig around and find what Ryou had asked for, but Ryou had beaten him to it, shuffling past him. He had quickly found a coat and hat, but he was having trouble finding a matching pair of gloves. After a few moments of feverish searching, he settled for a mismatched pair. One was a large, military grade mitten with a tuff of beaver fur over the top. The other was a yellow leathered, 5-fingered glove.
He grinned over at Mariku, who had tensely picked up a coil of fishing line from a cabinet, along with a small box full of lures. He walked back out the door, keeping it open as a sign for Ryou to follow. He plodded back down towards the lake, Ryou right on his heels.
Ryou hadn't seen it snow yet - not here, anyways. The sky was a solid white, the small flakes falling slowly. He stuck his tongue out to catch some, but they often hit his eyes instead. He began to stumble a bit, then decided it wasn't a good idea to attempt to eat snowflakes while walking down a rugged trail.
Once they had gotten to the edge of the lake, Mariku had wandered off to a low-sitting birch tree, and began to cut away at a few branches with a pocket knife. Ryou had waltzed right over to the hole, and stared into the dark depths of the it. He plopped himself down on the log, playfully shuffling the snow with his feet. Before long, Mariku had returned to him, then removed his gloves as he dug around in the tiny tackle box. Removing a lure, he tied it to the end of the fishing line, then told Ryou to hold onto it. It was a small revenge that was ill-received, as Ryou had been careful when grasping it.
He walked away from Ryou, unraveling the fishing line from the spool as Ryou held the other end. Once satisfied at the length, he brought the line up to his mouth and ground his teeth, breaking it away. He put the spool in his pocket, then tied the loose end on one of the large branches he had cut, tying and winding it several times over. He then walked back over to Ryou and handed him the makeshift fishing pole.
Ryou grinned madly as Mariku set the lure into the water. It sunk out of sight, into the cold, dark depths. He felt the branch bob as the line jerked, a signal that the lure had gone as far as it could reach. Mariku stood next to him as he began to bob the lure, jigging it up and down in slow movements. Ryou scooted himself over a bit, making enough room for Mariku to sit. His butt was already numb from the cold log, but he didn't really care.
Stubborn and still slightly irked, Mariku simply stood next to Ryou, looking off into the white surroundings. He blinked as snow hit his eyes and cheeks, the cold spots agitating him. After awhile, he decided to sit, and placed himself next to the pale boy with the mismatched gloves.
"So, hey," Ryou started.
Mariku looked away, staring off towards the cabin, acting uninterested.
"How'd you get all the way out here? I mean. Here. In the middle of nowhere. So far from...anywhere."
After he had said that, Ryou mentally slapped himself. The way he had phrased it had sounded relatively stupid. After receiving no response from Mariku, he gently bumped him. Mariku shifted away from him, farther down the log. Offended, Ryou scoffed, then rammed into the other boy, sending him sprawling off the log and into the snow.
Annoyed and confused, Mariku glared over at Ryou, and attempted to rouse himself from the white fluff. Ryou laughed at him, watching as Mariku stood next to the log, refusing to sit back down. It went quiet again, then Ryou let out a few mumbles as his branch began to bob. He tested it, rising it up high. It continued to bob, then bent down harshly. Excited, he stood, then was completely lost with what he should do. He didn't have a reel.
Noticing Ryou's confusion, Mariku grabbed the branch from him and began to twist the line around it, hauling the fish slowly and surely to the surface of the hole. Ryou watched, excited, staring down into the cold darkness. Eventually, a tiny little trout popped to the surface, squirming and writhing. Ryou smiled as Mariku set the branch down, then firmly grabbed the body of the trout. He wrenched the small hook out, lying it next to him in the snow. With a snap, he opened his switchblade and stabbed the fish's head, twisting it. The trout jerked still, then trembled in its death throes.
Ryou watched this display with slight shock. It had happened so quick, so smoothly, it was hard for him to take it in. Mariku was so abrupt, so swift. It reminded Ryou of the butchering of the caribou, how Mariku had acted almost on instinct. Especially with how curt and acrid he acted while doing it.
Ryou stuck his tongue out as Mariku began to gut and clean the poor little fish, then looked away. He heard a few quiet splashes: Mariku was throwing the guts and insides back into the water. They sunk down into the deep blackness, disappearing from sight.
Mariku, thinking Ryou would have been satisfied, began walking back towards the cabin. Realizing this, Ryou grabbed at the hem of Mariku's jacket, pulling it slightly, "No. No. I want more. That fish is tiny."
Mariku sighed heavily, then dropped the little fish onto the snow. Exasperated, he collapsed to the ground, lying on his side, right next to the little carcass. He flapped his arm lazily, then lay still, facing away from Ryou. Ryou watched this odd display with bemused delight.
Knowing he had won, Ryou stuck the lure back into the water, and began unraveling the fishing line. It sunk into the deep depths, and he sat back down on the log, jerking the lure up and down. They stayed as they were in silence, with the snow cascading down upon them. The cold expanse closed in on them, casting a spell of peaceful lethargy. Ryou looked over to Mariku's prone form, and smiled quietly to himself.
000
Mariku had gone back to his carving, and Ryou had fixed his own supper of fish. He had caught 3 more after Mariku had his muted fit down on the lake. He had no idea what herbs and spices were in what cans, but when he asked, Mariku had simply shrugged, stating he didn't know. This baffled Ryou, and he wondered how Mariku knew what herbs and spices went with what. He resorted to sniffing them, but even then, he still wasn't sure what he was getting himself into. He hoped he wouldn't ruin his meal.
In the end, he had an overbearing meal, tasting heavily of different herbs and spices. He didn't really mind, and had picked the meat from the fish, until there was nothing left but skin and tiny little bones. He watched Mariku carve, studying his face and the way his hands moved the blade and turned the wood. It was a figure of a man - with a large beard and hat. The details were still lacking, but Ryou knew it would be beautiful by the time it was finished. He had already seen Mariku's other carvings that were lying around, hidden in the bunks and cabinets.
He asked Mariku if he wanted to do anything with the fish bones or skin, to which Mariku shook his head. Shrugging, Ryou threw them into the stove, using a cloth to open the door, as he had seen Mariku do. He then decided to dig around in the cellar, looking for some milk. He changed his mind once he saw the large, clay jug sitting next to the eggs, dully realizing that it would provide an escape from the inert boredom. Mariku looked to Ryou once he rose from the cellar, eyeing the jug with displeasure.
Ryou smiled wistfully at him, slamming the jug down on the table. Mariku jumped a bit at the sudden, loud noise, then stared at the jug, refusing to meet Ryou's gaze. At this, Ryou slid the jug closer to Mariku, bumping it against the carving he was working on.
Flustered, he looked out the window, then to Ryou. He was met with a sneaky smile, and he knew, by this time, that Ryou's smiles usually meant that he would suffer in some sort of arbitrary way.
000
Ryou had discovered a hand-knitted hackeysack underneath his bunk, shoved back in the corner in a pile of dust bunnies. He was elated at this small discovery, and was prompt in showing Mariku how to play with it. It had fallen apart after awhile, the little beans scattering across the floor as the colorful material frayed. Ryou wanted to eat them. He wanted to eat those old, hard little beans so bad that it hurt.
Fruits and vegetables were incredibly hard to come by. Mariku had used them as a sort of treat, somewhat like the sauna. They were scarce, and had to be unthawed. Even then, they didn't taste quite right. Not as good as they would have when they were fresh. Mariku would sometimes surprise him with a small fistful of blueberries, or a couple of potatoes and corn cobs from the distillery. Even so, most of their diet consisted of meat, eggs, milk, water and whiskey.
Especially whiskey. Because Ryou had his starched boredom, and it was never any fun getting drunk alone. And in the end, Ryou realized that Mariku was much, much more talkative and happy when he had a belly full of liquor.
"Can we eat those beans?" Ryou slurred.
Mariku let out a short, amused chuckle, something he had done more of in the increasing amount of days that Ryou had been there, though he would blame it more on the whiskey, "I don't know."
"Well," Ryou huffed, "...Well, I want to eat them."
Mariku had shrugged, then began picking them up off of the floor. Ryou helped, and Mariku began boiling a pot of water.
"I might get sick," Ryou stated.
"Probably."
"You'll make me all better if I do, right?"
Mariku pondered a moment, "No. No, this one is all you."
Ryou laughed, a low pitched jingle that made Mariku smile.
000
Ryou hadn't gotten sick. It may have been from the minuscule amount of beans, or it may have been from the large amount of whiskey that was residing in his belly, killing off any harmful germs.
"So. You were ignoring my question, a long time ago. On the lake. Few days ago. Whatever. Um. How did you get out here? All the way out here? Why not. Um. Egypt. Or something?" his hands moved erratically with his questions, and he blinked slowly, as if he were tired.
Mariku stared at Ryou from across the table, his eyes bleary as he slowly thought over this question, "I got...he wasn't...hm," he fumbled, voice quiet.
Ryou waited for a proper response, staring at the dim light of the kerosene lamp.
"...Malik..."
At the name, Ryou's eyes shot up to gaze at Mariku's face, which had become contorted.
"Malik...um. He didn't want anything to do with me. You know? So I uh...I ran."
Mariku was quiet for awhile, and began scratching at the back of his neck, his fingernails clawing at the table. Ryou watched this in a stupor, attempting to sober his thoughts. The familiarity of the situation crushed him.
"I...I ran forever. Then Otto - Otto found me. Gave me a place to stay, as long as I worked and stuff. He gave me this -" Mariku lifted his arms, indicated the cabin, "-in exchange for making moonshine. Keep the still going. It was - it was his grandfather's. But he always said. Um. Always said that..." he trailed off, thoughts breaking. He rubbed his eyes, then looked at Ryou, dumbfounded, "I don't remember what he said."
Ryou briefly wondered who Otto was, but he supposed the short explanation suited him just fine. Ryou ran his right hand over the left, fingering the large scar that resided there, then slowly made his way up to the scar at the top of his arm. His thoughts went to his spirit, his own darkness that had run from him as well. Mariku watched this movement, and watched as Ryou's face melted into a look of pure anguish.
"Have you played 'Never have I ever'?" Ryou asked, attempting to change the subject towards something fun.
Mariku shook his head.
At this, Ryou gave a sloppy, toothy grin. Mariku attempted to grin back, but Ryou's smiles still worried him.
000
"Never have I ever skipped school."
Ryou drank to this, a quick shot that burned the back of his throat and festered in his belly.
"Never have I ever been in handcuffs."
Mariku stared off a moment, then took a shot. They were using little copper measuring cups, a thing Ryou had insisted so neither one of them could cheat. Their words were blending together, their hands sloppy, their eyes bleary, and they didn't care about anything in the entire world at this very moment.
"Never have I ever shot a gun."
Ryou wondered if a BB gun counted, but decided it did.
"Never have I thrown up on a complete stranger."
Mariku laughed, but left his cup on the table.
"Never have I ever been in the hospital."
Ryou let out a scoffing noise, then drank.
"Never have I ever caused someone to need stitches."
Mariku grimaced, and took a shot. Ryou grimaced back, thinking about it. They kept bantering back and forth, hitting a sudden dry spell where neither one of them drank. They laughed at each other's interesting mentalities and life incidents, but then - a hard, cold, horrible hit, one that Ryou hadn't even meant to ask - he had just been shooting out random phrases, random scenarios.
"Never have I ever killed someone."
Mariku's smile left his face, and he stared down at his little measuring cup. He brought it slowly to his lips, then shot it down, quick and scalding, and Ryou stared at him, horrified in a drunken daze. "No. No, now. No. I mean -"
Ryou's entertainment had dove down into a serious low, and he felt confused and sick. His stomach churned and he suddenly wanted to throw up, but managed to hold it down. Ryou stared into Mariku's eyes, those eyes that had gone dead and dull again. The violet gaze stared back at Ryou, and he wanted to cry, "What? Who? I mean - What?" He wouldn't have dared to ask such questions if he were sober. He would have been too afraid to.
Mariku looked away, furrowing his brows. He stared down at the table, bringing his hands up to his hair. He scratched his head irritably, then looked out the window. A deep sadness fell across Mariku's face, and he hunched down, his shoulders going slack.
Ryou knew he had lost Mariku, had lost the magic that had previously been shared between them, adrift in a blazing sea of whiskey. Mariku had fallen back into his depression so quickly that it somewhat disturbed Ryou. They stayed silent for a moment, then Ryou heard the soft whisper that caused absolute dread to spread across his entire body.
"Malik's father."
Ryou felt hot tears fall down his cheeks, and he began to understand, just a little bit, "Oh." was the only thing he could manage in reply. Mariku shrugged, still staring out the window. Ryou watched as a single tear fell down the tanned boy's cheek.
And then, Mariku burst forth.
He began slurring such a long, horrid tale of his life, of Malik's life. Of what they felt, how they felt, what they went through. Of the scars, the horrible, beautiful scars that resided on both his and Malik's back. He told how everything happened, how he could feel the darkness of the shadows taking ahold of him. And how he reveled in it, how he welcomed it. He told of how they heard of the Pharaoh's soul in the body of a young boy - in Yugi's body. How they sought it out, what Malik and Ryou's spirit had done together. How he ripped through Malik's mind and body to take it over, how he destroyed Mai and sent Ryou's body and spirit into the shadow realm. He told it up to the point of his own defeat on the top of Alcatraz tower. His tale was long and harsh, not lacking in details. It was numbing and frightening, cold and demented. After that, there was nothing, just stunned, despairing silence.
It was such a long, tortuous story. The fire had gone down to a low simmer, the coals red hot, waiting to be fed again.
Mariku put his hands to his face, covering his eyes as he shuddered. Ryou liked a talkative Mariku, but this was too much, it had gone too far. They had drank too much. They had gone past the happy area, and had fallen into the melancholy doom, full of anxieties and life woes. Ryou cried silently, tears freely falling from his face as his nose ran. His inebriated mind was having a hard time thinking about all of this - of understanding and filtering it. He felt sad for Mariku - for Malik, for Yugi, for Mai, for Malik's sister and brother. For everybody, even himself, because he had somehow got tangled up in that jumbled mess.
Ryou kept quiet, biting his lip as he sniffled. Mariku looked around the room, as if thinking. Then, he stood up, and quickly ran outside, his body teetering as if he couldn't see straight. Ryou heard retching, and the mere sound made him want to do so as well. Mentally and physically sickened, he followed Mariku outside, and, together they vomited the contents of their stomachs. The dark quiet of the outside world was broken by the two grieved individuals, their chests heaving with their sickness.
Ryou, finished and with his stomach empty, laughed at the absurdity of it. Before long, Mariku followed suit. The magic was still there, but in short, tentative waves. They went to bed with heavy thoughts and tired bodies, and Ryou decided that they shouldn't drink again any time soon.