-Rises out of a coffin vampire-style- Bleh! I have come back from the dead to bring you a new chapter! I have not been given any feedback on this thing by anyone so this is a bit of a shot in the dark here
Either way I AM SORRY for this huge delay it's just this is my freshman high school year so I was distracted by all the new thingies around when I started BUT I shall do my best to make it up to you!
Happy belated Halloween and enjoy the new chapter.

Marik knew damn well smoking was forbidden inside the apartment building he lived in when he took a puff in the stairwell the following morning. He just didn't care.
Hell, it wasn't like his neighbours did either... And even if they did, they had no fucking right to complain considering how often they'd kept him up all night with their goddamned rave parties or stolen his washing times, the bastards... Yes, the great Marik Ishtar had to do his laundry just like everybody else – real shocker, huh?

As mentioned before, Marik would usually only smoke when he was either feeling depressed or under a lot of stress - and possibly while intoxicated.

And at the moment, Marik was depressed, stressed as hell, and wishing he was intoxicated.

A tired sigh escaped the former tomb keeper's lips where he stood leaning against the wall, inhaling one more breath of calming nicotine.

The white haired demon was still inside his apartment. Yup, he was in there all right; currently roasting foam bananas on Marik's toaster, apparently beginning to feel rather at home in the epyptian's apartment.

It's officiall; the man's insane. Completely, incureably, and absolutely batshit insane...

The tanned youth shook his head in disbelief, letting out a hollow, half-suffocated laugh, cigarette still between his teeth. Because really... what else could he do but laugh? A psychopathic, sadistic lunatic from his past he believed to have been dead for years had just suddenly popped up out of frigging nowhere and occupied his apartment (and toaster) and then refused to leave no matter what he did, seriously, what the fuck was he supposed to do in this kinda situation?

And yes, he'd tried to make the bastard leave. Bloody hell, of course he had tried - with little to no success.

At first he'd tried using brute force, which unfortunately had only earned Marik a nice set of bruises and a good dose of humiliation since Bakura could take some serious pain without as much as flinching, while Marik, despite being the physically stronger of the two, couldn't withstand nearly as much and therefor got his ass handed to him. And calling the cops was completely out of the question since Bakura knew of Marik's criminal past as the former leader of the Ghouls, whom the authorities were still looking for, despite the fact that it was common knowledge in the criminal underworld that the group had been disbanded almost three years ago.

And Marik was quite certain Bakura wouldn't think twice about turning him in, should he feel the need to. It was pure blackmail of the worst kind; Bakura had him wrapped around his stupid, pale finger, and was loving every minute of it, the twisted bastard...

Marik let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm fucked," he said out loud in a monotone voice, taking another puff. "I, Marik Ishtar, am royally fucked."

He'd smoked up almost the entire cigarette now, his third this morning. The tanned man cursed silently, seeing how short the cig had gotten during these past few minutes.

"Damn. And this is the last one I got on me..." he muttered irritably as he took what was left of the white-orange stick between his fingers and glared at it for a good few seconds before he tiredly pinched the bridge of his nose in resignation and threw the cigarette on the floor, stomping out the glow with his shoe.

"To hell with this, I need coffee."

And with this, the Egyptian went down the stairs and out on the streets of Domino to find a place where he might finally enjoy some goddamned caffeine, preferably as far away from a certain white haired kleptomaniac as possible.

Bakura watched him leave from the open kitchen window; open because the thief was planning on getting rid of the cabbage head in the back of Marik's fridge, because, well, cabbage is fucking disgusting - and this particular cabbage was no exception. In fact, Bakura could swear that the vegetable had been giving him dirty looks all morning; making it not only revolting, but also hostile.

The only reason he hadn't thrown it out yet was because there hadn't been enough people walking by the window, since it was still early in the morning. And Bakura was not one to throw things away without actually hitting someone in the process.

That was just a waste of first-class entertainment.

And so, while searching for a suitable victim though the open window and roasting the foam bananas he'd found in the kitchen cabinet on Marik's toaster, the former spirit had an excellent view of Marik's departing form moving further and further away from the building.

From him.

Bakura frowned in dissatisfaction.

"How rude," he spoke out loud. "I go though all this trouble to visit him and he just walks away? Really, I think the brat's gotten even more impolite since last time we met..." the thief trailed off, a wicked smirk replacing his scowl.

"But it's fine. He is just a brat afterall, I guess I can't be too hard on him..." Bakura chuckled darkly.

"Though I really think he went a bit too far this time. As punishment, I believe I shall have to do his lungs the great favor of throwing away all of his cigarettes. His precious organs will praise me for years to come," he decided with a snicker.

"And last time I checked, he kept them in the bedroom closet."

Knowng where your victim keeps his beloved nicotine truly is one of the great advantages of being a stalker.

With his trademark smirk twisting his would-be angelic features, the thief headed off to the egyptian's bedchamber, swiftly opened the closet-door and snatched all of Marik's cigarettes from their place on the top-shelf. Bakura weighed the three packages he found in his hands with a thoughtful look on his face.

Would be kind of a waste to just throw them away like that...

Finally, he shrugged and decided he'd hide them for now, and then maybe burn them up or something later.

Right now, he was a bit too tired to come up with something creative. The thief hadn't slept at all the previous night thanks to Marik's attempts at removing him from his resident, (as if Blondie would even be able to make Bakura move a fucking inch) an escapade which frankly had been, while terribly entertaining, rather exhausting.

Though Marik was probably even more worn-out than he was. It really was absolutely precious, how he'd fought him so hard. Simply adorable. Bakura would cherrish the memory of the frustrated look on the egyptian's face forever.
However, now he was tired, and wished for nothing else but a nice nap.

And Marik's bed was simply perfect for said nap.

Deciding he would take care of Marik's death-sticks after his quick rest, Bakura put the three packages back on their place on the closet-shelf before pouncing on the egyptian's unmade bed, not even bothering to remove his shirt nor using the bed's lilac cover, and buried his face into the dark mauve pillow, tiredly draping his pale arm around it.

Marik really likes purple, huh?

With a tired smile playing on his lips, the thief slowly shut his heavy eyelids and nuzzled further into the lilac pillow.

The smile turned into a full-fledged grin when he caught the faint scent of...

Oh gods, you're kidding me, fucking lemon*? Seriously?

Snickering softly, Bakura's last thoughts before falling into unconsciousness were:

Nice choice of shampoo fragrance, Marik. Fits you to a T.

A few blocks away, on a white painted bench in Domino Park, Marik Ishtar sneezed loudly.

After spending a whole night in the company of the infamous(ly irking and obnoxious) thief king Bakura, Marik was in a rather asocial mood.

And since he hadn't felt particiularly hungry either this morning, the Egyptian had simply ordered a large cup of black take-away coffee at the first café he'd spotted, then walked straight to the empty park and seattled down on the nearest bench; enjoying his coffee in silence.

Above him up in the tree's thick, green foliage the birds were chirping their usual morning melodies, like always on an early summer morning in Domino City.

Marik sighed. The calm environment soothed his last few worn-out nerves after his several hour long spat with Bakura last night and helped him clear his head slightly, but did by no means make him forget the little 'problem' still left in his apartment.

What if I simply killed him then? Is it really murder if the person in question used to be dead?

Marik shook his head violently. No, no, no, he hated Bakura but surely not enough to actually kill him, right?

... Right?

The Egyptian started chewing on his bottom lip; a sense of dread slowly filling him to the brim – coiling its way though his intestines and stomach like a giant, slippery worm.

"I... am no killer..." he could hear himself croak out hoarsely. A lie, of course, he was a killer. He had murdered his own father in cold blood – no, on second thought scratch that, it isn't cold blood when you're totally cracking up while doing it, right? - he had killed lord knows how many of his ghouls, indirectly mostly yes, but still, and finally there were (obviously) the victims of his ghouls; the many duelists he'd robbed and stolen from, the people who simply knew too much and finally... the ones that just got caught in the crossfire.

Marik's hands were completely and utterly soaked in the blood of both sinners and saints.

However, it was dried blood. After Battle City, he no longer felt the need to hurt others; was no longer given the satisfaction it once brought him to toy with human life.

He no longer felt the need to play God.

And yet he'd most definitely give an arm to see that fucking Bakura six feet underground. Yet, he couldn't stand him.

And the funny thing was, it wasn't even about loathing Bakura. Not his smirk, his laugh, his over-confidence nor cruel ways nor sadistic quirks, no, the thief himself was not the issue here.

The issue was Marik. The issue was that Bakura was a thing of his past - a reminder of the person Marik despised the most: The Marik that he used to be. A selfish, foolish brat who didn't know his damned place.

Sighing deeply, the Egyptian threw his head back and closed his eyes. A few sunrays were seeping though the greenery, lovingly caressing the Egyptian's bronze face.

Marik took another sip of his coffee; the last few drops the tanned man noticed to his great vexation. Muttering something about coffee cups being way too small in Japan, Marik felt something vibrate in his left pocket, followed by a familiar ringtone. The Egyptian sighed heavily.

This phone sure knows when the hell to ring, doesn't it...?

Quickly checking the caller ID saying "Rishid", Marik's dark mood brightened slightly before picking up.

"Mornin', Rishid. Care to tell me why you're calling me at this hour?" He could hear his brother in law fumble nervously with the phone for a bit on the other line; clearly stressed or worried – most likely a combination of the two.

"Marik! What a relief, I thought something might've happened to you; I was so worried!" Marik smiled faintly. Good ole' Rishid.

"What on earth gave you that idea?" the tanned youngster asked amusedly, leaning back on the white park bench.

"Um, well, I tried calling your apartment just now, but it didn't connect so I just assumed..." Rishid trailed off, most likely biting his lip in uneasiness if Marik knew him at least half as well as he thought he did.

Sighing at Rishid's over-protective ways, the Egyptian calmly explained to his brother that he was perfectly safe and sound and that he accidentally broke his phone the previous night, and therefor had been unable to recieve his calls.

Well, it was true, in a sense; he was perfectly safe and sound, save from a few bruises, and the phone had "accidentally" been broken the previous night; when he had attempted to hit Bakura in the head with it.

His DVD remote had shared its fate.

May they both rest in peace.

This bit of information seemed to calm the other down enough to start asking worried questions of the more ordinary kind, such as, "Are you getting enough sleep?", "Did you make it home safely after the party?", "Are you eating properly?" and so on until Marik finally snapped at his former right hand saying he was more than capable of taking care of himself; he was going to be nineteen this winter! Dear gods of old!

Then again, Marik thought bitterly, Maybe he's right to be worrying about me... considering that there's a mentally unstable man in my apartment as we speak...

A tiny, irritating voice in his head that sounded far too much like said unstable man to Marik's liking rolled its eyes at him and sassily told him that he didn't exactly have the right to call anyone "unstable", making the Egyptian groan in absolute misery.

Great, now that fucker was in his head, too!

"Marik? Something the matter?"

Sighing, Marik replied; "No, I'm fine Rishid, I've told you like ten times already. So how are you two doing then; you haven't said a word about that, Rishid...!" He really did try to keep the venomous tone out of his voice, but didn't quite succeed in his task. Rishid undoubtedly noticed, but chose to ignored it.

"Erm, well... We're having a wonderful time, Ishizu and I, but we do miss you terribly," Rishid spoke gently, his voice filled with all the sincerity in the world, and Marik smiled. Smiled simply because he was loved. Most people probably wouldn't find anything particularly remarkable about your siblings feeling affectionate towards you; but to Marik it was such an amazing thing – such a privilege to be loved.

Too many in this world take love for granted.

"I miss you too, both of you," he awnsered softly. "But I'm fine, honestly. No need to worry; I'll take care of myself so you two just have fun. You did not travel all the way to Europe to worry about me, right? And this call must be costing you a fortune as it is..."

"Well it's not like we can't afford it, now is it?" Rishid chuckled on the other line. "That was a very generous wedding gift you gave us, Marik... Are you absolutely certain you have enough to pay for it?"

Marik sighed dramatically.

"Yeeees I'm sure: Just like the last fifteen times you asked, Rishid." Their honeymoon in Europe had been his wedding gift to the two of them. Originally, Ishizu and Rishid had actually planned to have it in Japan since it would be both cheaper and easier, plus if something were to happen to Marik, they would be able to quickly get back home.

But Marik, being the good (and ridiculously stubborn) baby brother he was, simply wouldn't have it. He wanted the newlyweds to finally have time to focus on each other for once instead of worrying about him. At least on their bloody honeymoon for crying out loud!

For the love of crap, these people had practically raised him and he'd spat them in the face as thanks. And yet, they had both merely turned a blind eye on it and forgiven him without a second thought. He owed them so much at this point he'd never be able to fully pay back the debt. But at least he could try. At least he could spoil them a little.

After all, they definitely deserved it.

Besides; money wasn't even an issue here. Marik wasn't stupid; he knew money made the world go 'round, and he had known it three years ago as well. Whilst his intentions at the time were indeed to become an honest citizen, the ghoul's fundings... oh, it had just been too tempting! Marik wasn't a bloody role model dammit, he was and would always be a thief at heart! With that kind of money he would be able to support himself though his entire life, and there'd still be plenty left over!

He had, however, ended up splitting up the lesser fortune in two, taking one half for himself and donating the rest to various charity organizations; His conscience just wouldn't shut up about him living off "dirty money".

Though to be quite fair, he wasn't really planning on doing so either. He'd much rather get a good education and a good job that he enjoyed doing and live off that. The money from his old days of crime and murder in the bank were more of a security than something he actually planned to use. His (hopefully) future children children would most likely come to inherit the majority of it.

Good, at least some joy would come from his criminal record.

Well that is, if he could find a suitable wife. Marik pouted, feeling the usual sting of jealousy that hit him whenever he'd think about women or relationships in general. It was stupid and incredibly girly of him; but he truely did long for love.

Then again, most people do that, don't they?

Still, that wasn't going to keep him from complaining about it, that's for certain!

"Money I have far too much of, in my opinion," Marik continued, "What I'm having trouble with is this stupid craving I have for romantic affection," the egyptian muttered sullenly, causing Rishid to chuckled a bit.

"Don't worry Marik, I'm sure you'll find that special someone soon enough." Marik raised an eyebrow at his brother in law's reply.

"Is there any spesific reason you said "someone" and not "girl"?" the Egyptian asked suspiciously.

"Well I'm... I mean please don't get me wrong here Marik, I'm not implying anything with it, I'm just saying that anything's possible."

Marik was incredibly close to hissing into the phone that he for Ra's sake wasn't a fucking faggot, so why the heck did everybody automatically assume he was, but suddenly remembered that Yugi wasn't gay either. And yet, he'd still fallen for Atem, and the boy didn't seem interested in any other guys...

Maybe I shouldn't exclude the possiblility after all...? the former tomb-keeper pondered.

"I suppose you make a valid point, brother..."

As the words slowly slid out of his mouth, he couldn't keep himself from asking: Would I be able to date any of the men I know, then?

He decided to tackle this issue by making a mental list in his head.

Yugi? Oh nononono, that was just plain wrong, it was like imagining him and Rishid –

Oh sweet Gods NO, the mental image, I can't get it out of my fucking head makeitstopmakeitstop!

Shaking his head violently, he decided that Yugi was completely out of the question.

Honda? Pfft. No way. Jonou? Nah, too... blond, and probably straight too. Kaiba? He almost laughed out loud at that one. No way, absolutely no way, not that damned asexual stick in the mud!

... Ryuuji?

...

Fuck yes. But then again, Otogi-kun could probably turn even the straightest of men into flaming homosexuals with a sway of his hips; so that one didn't really count.

Kinda like David Bowie**, Marik concluded.

Then of course, there was Ryou.

And this one definitely counted.

Speaking purely hypothetically now, if Marik had actually been gay, he most definitely would've asked the boy out in a heartbeat. Ryou was pretty much all you could ever want in a... well, boyfriend; He was kind, gentle, intelligent, witty and full of surprises (not to mention he wasn't exactly that bad to look at either). All in all, it seemed quite possible...

Well... it did until Ryou's appearace made his slightly more unpleasant if not flat out sociopathic alter-ego cross the egyptian's mind due to their striking simularity, causing him to shiver – anddefinetly not in a good way.

The very thought of him and Bakura as... lovers... was almost as disturbing as the idea of him and Rishid having – okay no, just no, he had to stop his own thoughts right then right there because he never ever ever wanted to think of such things ever again, seriously.

Though much like his previous thought, this one was also extremely difficult to let go of. His brain seemed rather hellbent on sexually and morally torturing him today, he observed bitterly.

But the worst part of it was most definitely that he had subconsciously just admitted that Bakura was good-looking by deeming Ryou as such since the two were close to identical in appearance.

So...

You know that little voice in you head that tells you when to stop?

Which one of the two is the hottest then?

... Marik's was either asleep or taking a vacation.

And to make maters worse, he did not like the answer to that question. Not. One. Bit.

"MARIK!"

Rishid's worried voice immediately snapped him out of his trance-like pre-tantrum.

"Oh, sorry I got caught up in thoughts-"

"Don't do that, I thought something might've happened to you!"

"Yes, but you always think that, Rishid," Marik replied patiently. He could hear his brother in law sigh on the other line.

"I know, I suppose I worry a bit too much about you..."

"Oh, you think?"

"But really Marik, are you sure you're alright? No problems at all?"

Oh, he had problems alright. In the form of a sadistic, and apparently good-looking according to himself, sociopathic kleptomaniac...!

But he wasn't going to tell Rishid that. He couldn't! He couldn't bother Rishid and Ishizu with his problems, especially not on their bloody honeymoon, dammit!

Even if it killed him, he refused to ruin this for them. Ever. He wasn't going to tell them at all.

Even if the meant he had to... get along with Bakura.

Ra, death actually sounded tempting now... But he couldn't risk their happiness over this; not to mention their lives! Bakura was fucking insane – there's no telling what he's capable of!

... No one would know. He would make sure of it. That was the only solution he could find.

He knew what he had to do.

"... Everything's perfect. You and sis stop worrying bout me and take care of yourselves, and this call is getting way too expensive, Rishid," Marik smiled gently.

I'll manage. I'll get through this on my own. So please just be happy and have a good time together. That's all I ask of you.

"Alright. You take care of yourself too, Marik."

The younger egyptian chuckled softly. He'd try.

"Of course. Oh, and do tell my sister I said hi. Bye, Rishid."

"I'll do that. Be seeing you, Marik."

They hung up simultaniously. Marik tiredly shoved the phone back into his pocket and sighed.

He knew what he had to do. He just didn't want to do it.

He was going to have to put up with Bakura.

* For those of you who didn't get that... Google is your friend^^ And for you who did; Oh YES, I went there D

** Otogi Ryuuji is the David Bowie of YGO! SPREAD THE WORD!

So yeah, Marik's finally come to terms with the fact that the plot is going to move on here XD

Marik: I hate you so much.

But I love youuu!^^ Yeah, there wasn't a lot of Bakura in this chapter, which sucks cuz he's INCREDIBLY fun to write, but he'll be right back next time.

...

Bakura reads lemon. THERE, I SAID IT! Mwouahahaha! See y'all next time!