The X-Effect

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

I'm… incredibly tired. I'm somewhat nervous about this chapter but I'm not really sure why— maybe because I'm finally working in the friendship? Or maybe it's just because I'm always nervous when posting things I wrote. Anyway, I'll cut to the chase.

Thanks again to the lot of you reviewing, and even those simply reading but saying nothing. I don't mind, because I'm notoriously quiet myself despite always replying— I'm grateful for the views, favourites, and alerts! Now, I won't ramble any further...

Chapter 3: Mixing the Elements

Although Malik had thought it was hell, Bakura (to his own surprise, despite never allowing himself to admit it) felt otherwise by the end of class.

It started out like it, though.

When Bakura walked in, Malik was already at his desk— not Malik's desk, his desk. Bakura's desk. He narrowed his eyes tiredly, walking up and setting his books down on the empty side of the desk. "Really?" He murmured, gesturing vaguely to the seat. "You're not only my partner, you're also still in my seat?" The Egyptian glared up at him, but just shook his head.

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't sit next to you," he retorted. "The teacher decided we'll be partners, and he's vehement on not altering the seating chart." Violet eyes went to the desk, focusing on the notes he was given. "Looks like I'm stuck with you."

"Great. Likewise. Now move."

Malik rolled his eyes and scooted to the seat on his immediate right. No use in arguing.

There was something with that boy. Bakura wasn't sure exactly what it was as he sat down, irritably pulling out his chair. He fiddled with his pencil, leaning his elbow on the desk with his hand cradling his cheek. But he soon noticed his mahogany eyes kept stealing glances at Malik. There was just something about him. He wasn't sure why, but it made him curious. Malik, despite his less than appealing attitude, was interesting. Perhaps that was it: he was interesting. From his dark skin to his bright blonde hair, Malik was interesting— although, he was also unpredictable in addition. As the period progressed, Bakura started to grow more and more positive that the boy must've been bipolar. It was either that, or he was secretly a girl and he was damn good at hiding it.

He figured the former was more logical (though the latter would've been hilarious).

They prepared for a lab the first period, their teacher rambling on about what to and not do during the experiments. He continually went back to his points of 'be sure to fill out the worksheet packet as you work' and to 'never mix the wrong chemicals because someone in fourth-fifth did that and they blew up the lab and that trouble-maker's partner has second-degree burn on his arm now from it so do it and you're in for it.' He was glaring half-heartedly in a certain Egyptian's direction for that one.

Malik died a little inside upon noticing, slamming his head to the desk. He muttered in weak Japanese about how his brother's already forming reputation was going to ruin his non-existent one but Bakura paid little mind. He was absently staring off out the window, trying to figure out his sudden interest in the shrill-voiced feminine-looking boy beside him. Eventually, he settled on the fact that Malik was interesting only because he was different from everyone else he had met, from the personality down to his appearance. Mind somewhat at ease, he felt a little more concentrated as the teacher passed out the materials and they begun their lab.

Malik was staring at the chemicals with a frown. At Bakura's taunting smirk and snide remark of: "What, afraid you'll screw up like your brother?" the Egyptian was quickly bristling and ready to go. They did end up screwing up a few times throughout the lab (sometimes Malik's fault, sometimes Bakura's), but it got done and it got done well enough they deemed it "passing."

They didn't talk much throughout the lab, causing a few awkward silences here or there.

It wasn't only Bakura who had trouble concentrating— Malik did as well, although he was much more subtle about it. His thoughts kept drifting to his partner, though the mindset was vastly different than the other teen's had been. He was mulling over how irritatingly rude Bakura was. He was arrogant, crass, sarcastic and a bit of a bully; basically, he was a pale skin white-haired version of his brother, if he thought about it. It bothered him because that meant if his brother and Bakura ended up being friends, something bad would happen and it'd be one big ass dose of hell. Mariku was an idiot like that. A blind leader and a blind follower if that made any sense— he didn't think anything through. That was what made him honest, though, and sometimes even vaguely amusing— Malik would never tell him that, however.

He went back to filling out the lab packet, not noticing the brown-red eyes that kept flicking over to him as he wrote.

(-)

Speaking of Mariku, said Egyptian was currently carving lines into his desk in Study Hall with his pen. He was, needless to say, bored to death. Huffing, he glanced at the clock with half-lidded eyes. Maybe he'd go to the drawing room. It was better than sitting here, chucking pieces of paper at the kids in front of him.

He signed out without waiting for any permission (not like the teacher seemed to notice anyway as she went on reading her book) and started down the hallway, absently strolling to the art room. He didn't expect to walk in and see an entire class in there, and painting none the less.

'Wait…' he mused to himself, glancing around the room none too shyly. 'Didn't Ryou say he was in painting?'

As if reading his mind, a voice suddenly piped up. "Ishtar-san!" Ryou chirped, smiling as he peered out from behind a canvas. He was completely hidden behind it otherwise. "I didn't expect to see you. What are you doing in here?"

Mariku shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "Got bored in study hall, so I thought I'd come down to the drawing room to work on my project or something…" He trailed off, noticing the teacher was staring at him. He raised an eyebrow but his teacher only smiled and gestured to the back of the room. His paper was over there.

Ryou continued to paint, stealing glances at Mariku as he dug through the rest of his classes' drawings to find his own. Fawn eyes tried to stay as concentrated as they could on his work, but he found it hard especially as the Egyptian wandered back over with his drawing in hand. Ryou was wondering why, until he remembered no one sat next to him.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" Mariku asked absently, setting his paper down without waiting for an answer. The English boy didn't mind anyway, shaking his head with a smile.

"No, go right ahead."

Mariku sat down at that and attempted a few lines of sketching on his paper before he found himself completely distracted, violet eyes looking over to the canvas that Ryou was focused on— and Ryou himself. The white-haired boy had taken off his school jacket and threw a messy white apron on over top of his clothes. His hair was tied back into a low and loose ponytail and despite being careful, he had already managed to get some paint on his cheek, the apron, and a bit in his hair. Mariku stared, in a daze, before someone behind them dropped a palette, which caused him to snap out of it.

"What are you painting?" Mariku finally asked, curiously leaning back to see. "Fruit?"

Ryou chuckled. "Sort of. It's some sort of surreal and malformed world." He pointed with the end of the brush to the corner of his piece, where a bright orange was taking shape. "It's underwater."

"Is…" Mariku squinted, getting up to peer over Ryou's shoulder. "Is that a banana and an eel?"

The white-haired boy started laughing. "Well, when you word it that way, I suppose it sounds silly," he admitted, grinning, "but yes, it's an eel."

"Eel banana. Interesting." He paused. "So is it a Baneel or a Eelana?"

"Whichever you prefer," Ryou giggled. "Both are silly names." He smiled, looking back to his canvas and continuing to paint. "What are you drawing, Ishtar-san?"

"Hn." Mariku grunted, slinking back into his seat and staring down angrily at the paper. "I don't really know. I'm just sort of adding lines and hoping that it goes somewhere."

Ryou leaned back from his canvas to see. The paper was a mess of graphite and smudges, lines going in every which way but somehow the young teen was able to make something out of it— it almost looked like a scene of war, but only one person was present in the midst of all the chaos. Was it a person? It seemed to be, but Ryou didn't want to assume, although Mariku would likely not be offended if it weren't. He decided to take a plunge.

"That person… Is that anyone in particular?" He asked cautiously, pointing a delicate finger to the mess of lines possibly resembling someone.

"Oh." Mariku's eyes seemed to light up a bit. "You can tell? Yeah. I guess it is someone." He added a few lines absently to the clothes of the person, frowning almost contemplatively. "I don't know who exactly he is, though."

"It's good."

Mariku suddenly looked confused. He took his eyes from the drawing to look at Ryou, who had focused his attention back on his painting and was mixing colours absently. "This? The drawing?"

"Yes." Ryou nodded, but his eyes never left his palette. "You're a very good artist."

"I don't think so, but…" Mariku trailed off awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. He felt his cheeks heat up just a bit. Was he blushing? Probably just from embarrassment. "Thanks anyway," he added quickly, lowering his head so his bangs fell in his face. He was hoping to hide the slight pink that was crawling over his face, but Ryou didn't even seem to detect it. He was intently painting now.

Mariku couldn't help but notice: he looked, dare he say, cute (in a sort of 'teddy bear' kind, he supposed, which didn't really suit him but hey) when he was concentrating so hard. The brown fawn-like eyes were almost glazed over in pure focus, mouth thin and face blank— but at the same time, it was obvious he was enjoying what he was doing. There was a spark in his eyes as he put strokes to the canvas, splashing colour into a surreal world only he truly understood. Was it really just "cute" in an endearing manner or…

Mariku shook his head a few times, as if the thoughts would shoot out if he did, before starting to vigorously scribble onto the paper. He had his cheek and mouth hidden in his hand as he leaned his elbow on the table, trying to rid the blush that was accumulating on his cheeks again. He didn't end up talking to Ryou much because their teacher (who taught both drawing and painting) had wandered over to see their progress. He spoke a little to Ryou, offering advice (that the Egyptian honestly thought Ryou was better off without, but whatever), before turning to Mariku.

"How are you doing, Ishtar-san?" Mr. Saato asked, leaning on the desk to peer over the Egyptian's shoulder. "Looks like you're off to a good start."

"I guess." Mariku fell silent again.

It seemed Mr. Saato wasn't pleased with the short answer for he pointed to the drawing and smiled. "So, what is the theme?"

'Does it seriously need one—' "Family," the Egyptian replied without missing a beat.

The teacher was the one to fall silent this time. He stared at the picture, in thought, as he frowned. "Family?" He repeated, trying to hide the skepticism in his voice. There seemed to be only one person there, and the entire thing was a convoluted mess of chaos and almost war-like area. Was this the boy's actual perception? It'd be scary to think it. "… I see. Well, continue what you were doing. It looks good. Keep an eye to the clock."

Mariku only nodded, continuing to add lines as the teacher finally wandered over to a different student. The Egyptian paused, feeling the burning sensation of someone staring before he glanced to Ryou, who was looking at him with a frown. Mariku raised an eyebrow as he caught his gaze. "What?"

"… Is that really the theme?" The English boy asked carefully with hesitation in his voice.

"Nah," Mariku smirked devilishly. "I just said the first thing that came to mind."

"Oh." Ryou paused before letting out a sigh. "That's good."

"Eh?" the blond raised his eyebrow again, looking confused. "Good? Why is that good?" he asked slowly, turning around to face the white-haired teen better. Ryou smiled a bit, but returned his eyes to the canvas and continued to paint.

"Well," he started casually with a shrug. "It's good. I'm not sure how to word it, but I'm happy that…" he trailed off, losing his train of thought. After a moment, he spoke back up. "I'm happy that it doesn't represent your idea of family. It'd be sad to think it did."

Mariku let out an "oh" of understanding. He didn't say anything, though, as he turned back to his drawing. He glanced to the clock, noticing he only had a few minutes left. When he returned his gaze to Ryou, the English boy was off cleaning up and washing his hands off. Mariku absently rose and put his drawing away, passing Ryou on his way back to the table. When he looked at the pale boy, a bright blue stuck out on his cheek— he had paint on his face still.

"Ne, Ryou."

The white-haired boy stopped and turned around, smiling pleasantly. "Yes, Ishtar-san?"

"Mariku," he corrected without much thought. "But…" He licked his finger and reached out to the boy's cheek, wiping off the blotch of blue paint with a few strokes. Under his fingertip, Ryou started to turn bright red, spluttering. He bristled a bit, shaking.

"W-what— w-why did—"

"You had paint on your face," Mariku said easily, shrugging. He wiped his hand off on his pants, not noticing the bright red tinge that was suddenly on Ryou's entire face as he turned and walked back to his seat. Ryou just stood there, fawn brown eyes wide. He shook, a hand to his mouth, as he desperately tried to calm himself down before shakily walking back to his seat to resume cleaning up. Mariku was indifferently grabbing his bag and shouting a "see ya" over his shoulder as he left to go back to study hall.

Ryou barely waved, staring at his back with an almost pained expression.

What just happened?

(-)

The end of the day didn't come fast enough as far as both sets of twins were concerned. Malik collapsed on the couch almost as soon as he got home, and Mariku decided he would collapse right on top of him. That elicited a grunt of protest from the younger boy, the boy craning his head up best he could to glare at the weight.

"Get off me," he mumbled, scoffing. "You're heavy."

Mariku only shifted his weight, toothily grinning at his little brother with closed eyes. He poised his elbows on either side of his little brother's neck, head resting in his hands. "Maybe I'm not heavy so much as you're nothing but bones."

"Am not," Malik retorted weakly, glaring.

"… Brothers, what are you doing?"

Mariku glanced up to see Ishizu standing there on the side of the couch, eyebrow raised. "Talking," Mariku replied, blinking innocently. "Why?" From underneath him, still uncomfortable, Malik snorted.

Ishizu just stared for another moment. "It's quite an… awkward position," she elaborated softly.

"He took the couch," Mariku argued with pursed lips, as if the logic actually made sense to anyone that wasn't him and it was actually understandable. It wasn't.

"That's… quite possibly the worst argument you've made yet," Ishizu announced with a sigh. She closed her eyes, shaking her head and turning to leave. Mariku stuck his tongue out, but ended up toppling off the couch as Malik jammed a hand into his chest, shoving the other twin off. He crashed unceremoniously to the floor with a cry of surprise, holding his head. Ishizu turned around, frowning as Malik sat up laughing. "… You two," she sighed again, walking out of the room, rubbing her temple.

Mariku swiped absently at his twin, snarling. Malik dodged the weak attempts, laughing until the other boy decided to tackle him. The younger twin let out a squeak of surprise, ducking and scrambling off the couch. Hell fell to the floor himself, still laughing, quickly regaining his footing as he ran to the bedroom. Mariku chased after him, on his heels, and the last thing Ishizu heard after the slammed door was a loud CRASH and a shout of "OW, why did you just tackle me— wood floors hurt, you psycho!"

Ishizu decided she would tune them out.

(-)

The Bakura residence was much quieter and much less rowdy— not to mention lacking violence. Ryou, being the good student he was, had taken the living room's coffee table "hostage" as he sprawled out to do his homework. He was working away diligently, while Bakura attempted to find something to eat. He strode out into the living room a moment later, a bag of his chips hanging from his mouth and a can of coke in each hand. He slid one onto the table for Ryou, who chirped his thank you, before the older twin plopped onto the couch lazily. He sighed.

"You know, your new friends are weird," Bakura commented to break the silence, clacking the can open noisily as he took a hearty swig.

Ryou laughed, but his eyes stayed locked on his homework. He felt his cheeks heat up a bit, remember painting class but the thought was quickly pushed away to dawdle on his homework and other pressing matters. "That so? I heard through the grape-vine that you're getting along well with Ishtar-san."

"Mariku? I guess." Bakura fumbled with the chip bag, attempting to open it. When it didn't open for his fingers, he went to gnawing on it with his teeth and pulling. Ryou glanced over at the noise, frowning as he extended a hand.

"Give me that," Ryou ordered softly. "You're going to make them go everywhere. Again," he reminded. Bakura grunted but shoved the bag to his twin's grasp (admittedly, he did have a notorious habit of making chip bags explode) without any argument. The younger white-haired boy fiddled with the top crease before expertly opening it—no teeth required. He smiled and handed it back to Bakura. "Here."

"Thanks."

As he was shoving the chips into his mouth, Ryou went back to his homework. "So," he begun in an attempt to keep the conversation lively, "are you on level ground with Malik-kun yet?" He asked absently while attempting to do Algebra in his head or with scrawls of numbers on the scrap paper beside his hand.

Bakura grunted. "He's feisty. I'll say that much," he admitted with a huff. He pulled his legs up and sat cross-legged on the couch, taking another large gulp of soda. It stung his throat a bit, but he paid little mind as a sour look crossed his face. "Of course he's my partner in chemistry, by the way. Peace successfully disrupted, you know."

"No thanks to me?" Ryou piped up, laughing a bit. Bakura shook his head, still scowling, although he knew the other boy wasn't looking.

"Au contraire. All gratitude goes to the teacher for this round of misery— the only seat open was next to me, apparently," the messy haired teen grunted again. Ryou glanced over his shoulder, smiling lightly, before returning his focus to his work. His twin quickly grew bored and dug for the remote in the couch (it always ended up in the cushions— no one knew why; the stupid thing could be on the coffee table or on the kitchen counter and still end up in there). He turned the TV on, flipping through the channels in an effort to find something at least remotely interesting. Ryou paid no mind to him as he continued to tap away on his calculator and work out his calculations.

They didn't speak for the longest time. Bakura settled on some bizarre horror movie and was watching it with boredom, pointing out loudly all the things 'wrong' with the movie as he did. Arterial spray didn't shoot like that. The wounds looked pretty fake and phony to his eyes. It wasn't even possible to break someone's finger with a toothpick (maybe he'd try, just to be sure). Most importantly: knives didn't cut immediately through someone's appendages, especially an arm. Were these movie producers utter morons? Obviously they never did their research… or field work.

Bakura looked to his brother, about to ask his opinion on the matter (granted Ryou probably wasn't watching anyway, but regardless) when he noticed how clouded and glazed over the round brown eyes suddenly seemed. "Ry?" He murmured with a hint of worry, prodding Ryou's shoulder tentatively.

The younger twin snapped from his stupor with a jolt, whirling around to stare in shock at his brother. His fawn eyes were wide but they slowly returned to normal as he recognized the other. "Oh, Kura-nii! Sorry, I… I was spaced out, I guess."

Bakura raised a brow, retracting his hand hesitantly. "Apparently. Why's your face bright red?"

Ryou turned darker. "It's… not."

"… I'm not colourblind, Ry."

The other boy actually pouted, lip jutting out as his eyebrows knit together. "Okay, fine, you aren't. I was just surprised is all," he lied lamely.

"You don't blush when you're surprised, you blush when you're embarrassed," Bakura pointed out smugly, smirking as he twirled his finger in his brother's direction. Ryou's frown deepened. As cold and indifferent as his twin was, he was damn good at reading people's emotions and thoughts— he just rarely ever acted on them because, let's face it, he didn't care.

Eventually Ryou sighed, defeated. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear absently, looking at the floor. "I was just thinking about painting class," he began quietly with a barely noticeable shrug of one shoulder. Bakura raised an eyebrow as if to say "so?" but Ryou wasn't done yet. He elaborated vaguely: "Ishtar-san visited."

"What, he skipped?" Bakura snorted, looking amused again. The fact that Mariku was brought up as more than likely the reason for the blush went completely over the boy's head. "That's a shocker," he commented sarcastically with a little smirk. Ryou shook his head, glancing up.

"No. He was in study hall."

Bakura mumbled an "ah" in understanding, and waited for his twin brother to elaborate— but he didn't. "Is there more to the story?" He pressed after a moment, hand lifted in a vague gesture. "Why are you calling him Ishtar-san anyway? That psycho doesn't deserve the respect, if you ask me."

"No, that's it," Ryou lied. He decided to leave the part about Mariku wiping the paint off of him out. He didn't know how Bakura would react.

Had the action been one of good-intentions and probably without much of a thought at all? More than likely. Did Ryou interpret it as something that made his head reel? Definitely. He wasn't used to being touched like that by someone other than his mother, and by another boy nonetheless. Something about Mariku's touch was bizarre— he was careful as if the action would shatter Ryou's cheek but at the same point he did it with so little thought like the action was something he did everyday. Come to think of it, Mariku was drawing— did that mean he painted as well? He wasn't sure.

After being lost in thought (and realizing he was supposed to be speaking), Ryou continued. "I… I don't know why I call him that," he faltered shyly, almost smiling crookedly. "He intimidates me a bit, honestly, I guess," he admitted, looking back to the carpet.

"Don't feel intimidated by him," Bakura said slowly, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head loosely. "Has he been threatening you?" He asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge as his eyes darted to his brother. He tensed up just slightly, awaiting the response with a tight jaw.

"No, no!" Ryou said quickly, waving his hands defensively as he turned a little red. "No, he hasn't!"

The eyes narrowed. "Has he hit you?"

"No! I promise, he hasn't done anything," Ryou pleaded, frowning. "Believe me. He hasn't done a thing. I don't know why he scares me, but… he does."

Something hung on the tip of Bakura's tongue— something like 'does he remind you of that man?'— but the thought was dismissed almost as quickly as it came. "Well, if he ever does anything to you— tell me. Got it?"

"I will, but I doubt he'll do anything."

"I don't. I'm serious, Ryou. No secrets."

"I know, and I know." The younger one fell silent for a moment, before looking at his brother almost thoughtfully. "Why do you distrust him so much? You said yourself you two seem to get along."

Bakura grunted, taking a hearty swig of his drink again. "I didn't exactly say that, but anyway… The reason we do is because of similarities. He's a lot like me," he shook the can absently side-to-side, hearing the little bit of liquid left swish against the aluminum. "That's also why he gets a red flag from me. He seems liable to snap easy."

"Quick to anger?" Ryou provided, turning around fully to face his twin. Looking up with his big fawn eyes, his elder twin almost drowned in the amount of innocence that was being set off. Sometimes, he had to think that Ryou either trusted too much or was too oblivious to think otherwise— although he knew Ryou was actually extremely skeptical. It was just the air the younger one gave off, he supposed.

"Something like that," Bakura agreed absently after a moment.

Ryou fiddled with his pencil a bit before touching it to his lips, looking thoughtful but somewhat hopeful. "Nii-san, can Malik-kun come over sometime for a sleep-over?"

"Why are you asking me?" Bakura grunted, eyes going back to the television as he got sucked back into the horror movie playing on the screen. "I don't care what you do or who you invite over. I'm not mother."

"I was just making sure," Ryou defended weakly, frowning. "I never know with you… "

"Invite his psychopathic brother while you're at it," the white-haired teen murmured sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. He shifted on the couch and groped for the remote, which had found itself (again) in between the cushions. "Make it a party."

Ryou frowned. "You're being highly cynical today."

"Aren't I always?"

"More so than usual," the other remarked with a sigh. "Is something bothering you?" Ryou pushed, leaning forward a bit with a cock of his head. "It seems like it. Do you want to talk about it?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, flipping through the channels. He kept his eyes on the screen, trying to find something of interest and so far not succeeding. "There's nothing wrong."

"You're sure?"

"… Ryou," Bakura began almost dangerously, eyes narrowing a bit. His tone was rough and coarse, but Ryou at least knew it was more so one of insistence. "There's nothing wrong," he repeated, emphasizing each word heavily.

The other boy held his hands up defensively, lips pursed. "Okay, okay. I'll back off." He sighed, taking his eyes to the TV. "Uhm, actually… can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," the elder teen replied without much thought. His eyes were glued on the scene displayed on the TV, some sort of action movie playing involving a boat blowing up and guns being fired in random directions with no relevance whatsoever to aim.

Ryou hesitated for a moment, thoughtful. After another few seconds of silence, he cocked his head and stared at his brother intently. "Does something bother you about Malik-kun, like how he acts every now and then? Anything strike you… as bizarre?"

"… What?" The slightly older twin looked over suddenly, raising an eyebrow. The movie was forgotten. "Uh, no. Should there be?"

If he wanted an explanation, he got none as Ryou only started to laugh. "Don't mind me," he said, dismissing the thought with a wave of his hand. Bakura shook his head and turned back to the TV, while the other boy went back to his work completely, turning away again— his thoughts were filled, though.

To be honest, something bothered him— gnawed at him, clawing as if it was desperately trying to surface. Ryou wasn't sure why he felt like there was something off in the other boy, but it was becoming more dominating in his head as he mused. Although perhaps, he was just over-thinking things (he was told he did have a habit of that).

It was only their first day, after all.

Yep. Only their first day. Can you believe that four-ish chapters somehow spanned all of one day? And to think people said I don't dawdle… Erk. I hope it was at least interesting?

It's been a long week. I'm graduated now, can you believe that? I'll be going to college soon… At least it's not until September. Hopefully I can chop a lot of this fic off by then! I hope to. I really want to complete this…

Anyway. Moving on: Read & Review & Critique please!