Wow! Another chapter! Well I hope you guys enjoy! Obligatory Marik backstory this chapter (I promise that things will get more exciting after this point!)

As Marik left class, books being shoved carelessly into his bag, he looked around at the throngs of people around him. There were groups of friends around, chatting with one another and making plans to spend time together.

And there he was, alone and scowling as he headed towards his bike. He had been living on his own for just over a month and yet, he didn't have anyone he considered as a friend. The closest person he could even consider close to a friend was an asshole tenant in his building. And they constantly kept fighting when they encountered one another.

However, he hadn't seen Bakura since that day in the hallway where he had upset the other. So, he hadn't had a chance to apologise or talk to him as Rishid had suggested.

Once again, as it always tended to happen when he spent too much time thinking on Bakura, Marik scowled and moved to straddle his bike to head home. Bakura wasn't worth spending so much brain power on and yet, despite knowing that Marik couldn't seem to help himself.

The air had grown colder, much to Marik's dismay and he shivered until he finally made it to the apartment, heading inside and leaning against the wall by the stairs. He rubbed his hands together for a moment before taking a deep breath and beginning the, by now normal climb to his apartment. No one had fixed the elevator yet and instead of being angry about it, it had just become part of a normal routine.

Once he had finally gotten into his apartment – it was still weird for him to think of it as "home" even though it was his own space – Marik went about making a small dinner for himself. It didn't take long before he was sitting on the couch with a bowl of left overs and a can of soda. In the moment of lulling and silence, he stared at the wall as he began to think yet again on thoughts he couldn't avoid.

He just wished he knew why he had pissed Bakura off so badly to begin with. Out of all the things he had said to the other guy, what had made Bakura snap had seemed trivial.

And yet, he knew he wasn't the best when it came to people. Maybe there came a point with teasing and poking fun at each other where the white haired asshole drew the line.

Still, he knew that Rishid had given him good advice and he needed the time to follow it through. But that also required being able to find the other to apologise to him and figure out how to fix whatever he had broken.

It wasn't like Bakura was someone Marik saw often. Despite them living across the hall from one another, the white haired asshole was just as elusive as ever. Marik had tried to listen in the hall, to see if he could hear the other from within the closed apartment, but to no avail. He never saw Bakura in the apartment lobby or really, anywhere. The only place he had seen him with any regularity was in the laundry room.

At the thought, Marik lowered his bowl of food and looked over to his basket of dirty clothes. Was it worth seeing whether or not Bakura would be down there? Was it worth even trying to talk to the other?

Just the fact that Marik couldn't seem to let the thought go was, he thought, an answer enough. He just needed to get Bakura to admit he had overacted, and then Marik could let this whole thing fade away. At least, it's what he told himself over and over again as he finished his food.

Marik took a deep breath as he exited the stairwell. He could hear the machines in the laundry room, a soft sound that floated down the hallway.

Could he really get that lucky? To have Bakura show up on yet another laundry visit?

Well he did seem the type to be, at least in some aspects, a creature of habit. But it wasn't a guarantee that the person running the machines was indeed Bakura.

Marik steeled himself and finished the rest of the journey down the hall, eyes widening at his luck.

There sat Bakura in the same chair and using the same machines as he had been last time. Other than the change of clothes he wore and the different book in his hands, it was like the other hadn't moved.

Although, his eyes did flick up when Marik walked in and when they fell on the other, a frown marred his otherwise blank face.

Well, so much for hoping that this would be easy.

Marik took another deep breath before he moved over to the other as he began to put his clothes in to wash. When they were taken care of, he sat down across from Bakura and waited for a moment.

While the pale man continued to ignore Marik, Marik took the time to look over Bakura. Being closer, he could see dark circles painted under the other's eyes, showing many sleepless nights. His hair that had been disheveled before was in more of a state of disarray like he hadn't brushed it in many months.

But overall, Bakura just looked tired.

At that thought, Marik pulled back a bit and scowled at himself. Like it mattered what the other looked like or if he was tired. Served him right for being such an ass.

And yet, he couldn't let the thought go. Maybe he could ask the other about it, if he had the chance to apologise that was.

Better now than never…

Marik took a breath before leaning forward and giving the other a short wave.

"Uh, hey Bakura."

No response came which didn't surprise Marik. He continued to talk though, knowing that the other could hear him.

"So I haven't seen you recently around. I wanted to talk to you."

Silence again, broken only by Bakura licking his finger to flip a page in his book. Anger bubbled up in Marik but he swallowed it down to continue.

"Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about the other night when you slammed me against a wall and ran off."

That got a reaction. Bakura flinched and his hands gripped his book hard enough that Marik wondered about the poor thing's safety. Glacial dark eyes shot up to look at Marik who recoiled back. He had never had someone look at him with such eyes and it made Marik's heart stop for a moment.

Bakura, despite looking like he was ready to murder someone, folded his book with calm hands and placed it in his lap.

"Oh please, pray tell, what do you have to tell me about you butting into my business? You annoying the hell out of me until I snap?"

"Hey," Marik interjected as he folded his arms in front of him. "I didn't do anything wrong! You're the asshole who assaulted me just because I spoke to you!"

Clearly, that was the wrong approach to take. Bakura let out a sharp hiss and stood in one fluid motion.

"You keep your damn mouth shut about things you don't understand."

He turned to walk away and Marik realised in that moment that he had fumbled the only chance he might get to apologise to the other. He followed Bakura up and grabbed for the other's wrist.

The white head spun around to glare daggers at the cinnamon hand clamped around his slender wrist.

"Get the fuck off of me."

"No, you stupid asshole. Here I am trying to apologise and you're throwing a fit!"

Marik saw that Bakura opened his mouth to retort, but when Marik's words caught up with him, his jaw hung slack and his eyes widened.

"A…apologise?"

"Yes, you idiot," Marik said in an exasperated tone, rolling his eyes. "Clearly, what I said upset you the other night and I wanted to apologise. I may not know why it upset you but it did, so…sorry."

Whatever Bakura had been expecting Marik to do, it hadn't been apologising. His surprised face showed that much. The room was silent for a few moments, save the gentle rumble of the machines still at work.

Marik was the first to break the moment, smirking as he leaned closer to the other.

"If I knew all it took was apologising to shut you up, I'd have used that ages ago. Of course, you're not much of a conversationalist."

The edge of Bakura's lip curled up at that as he looked to Marik's face. The anger had mostly faded from his expression and the surprise vanished as Marik spoke.

"You're as charming as ever. However, could you kindly let go of me now? Of course, unless you like hanging over me like a lovesick teenager."

Marik looked down to where he kept a firm grip on Bakura's wrist. At the joke, Marik released Bakura as if the pale skin was made of hot iron.

"Don't make it sound like I've been dying to get my hands all over you. I told you before, I'm not gay."

"Right," came Bakura's response before he shook his head and moved to take his seat. There was a hesitation before Marik moved back to his own seat.

"So, we're alright? Like, you won't avoid me or shove me into walls again," Marik asked Bakura as he leaned forward again. The smile on the other's face, as small as it might be was enough of an answer.

"If you can keep your nose out of my business."

That wasn't the best, but it was enough of an answer for Marik. He nodded and grinned.

"Fine fine, I'll try. I just can't help natural curiosity when people are clearly hiding something. You're not in the mafia are you," he asked, cocking a perfectly arched brow at the other.

That earned a laugh as Bakura threw back his head.

"Hell no. I don't need to lower and debase myself by getting involved with the likes of the mafia. I'm above that type."

Marik knew that he should let it go, not push the other just after they had mostly made up, but it had been bothering him just as much as the fact that Bakura had been angry at him. However Bakura seemed to be in a better mood already and Marik felt like he could still tease without ending up back at square one.

"That makes it sound like you know people in the mafia," Marik said as he folded his arms.

"Who says I don't? Seems like it's good to have friends in power, wouldn't you agree?"

Marik frowned at the other's words for a moment, wondering if Bakura was serious. But the laugh that echoed through the room a few moments later gave him his answer.

"You're an asshole. I don't believe anything that comes out of your mouth," Marik said as he folded his arms in front of him.

"Good," Bakura replied as he mirrored Marik's motion and folded his arms in front of him. "It is unwise to trust strangers."

"Are we strangers though? After all, you've let me into your secret mob boss life now," Marik responded before he heard one of the machines going off, signaling the end of his load of laundry. He hadn't had that many clothes to wash and he stood to pull them out of the dryer. When he turned back, he was surprised to see Bakura looking at him with a bemused expression curving his face.

"What? Staring at my ass," Marik asked, pleased with himself as the quip as Bakura's lips downturned into a frown and his brown eyes shifted away.

"Trust me, asshole brats are not my type," Bakura said as he let out a huff. "Why don't you get out of here already, Ishtar. I'm sick of seeing your face."

"Sure sure, you say that now. But I bet before long you'll be begging to have me near," Marik said as he rolled his eyes and rested his basket on his hip so that he could begin to exit the room. Bakura's voice followed him as he moved towards the door.

"Keep dreaming, idiot."

"I'll see you later," Marik chimed, ignoring the idiot comment as he grinned. It hadn't been the smoothest transition, but at least they had made up. Still, for all the teasing, Marik wondered why what he had said to Bakura had upset the other so much.

Still, they had finally gotten back to decent, albeit shaky footing with each other and he wasn't about to put that in jeopardy for a little curiosity.

It wasn't like they wouldn't see each other again. And when they did, well, maybe they could get through one conversation without snapping at each other.

As Bakura's chuckle slithered up behind him once again, Marik grinned and rolled his eyes.

Then again, maybe not.

I was going to make this whole thing one chapter, but I split it up into two because it was running super long. So, hopefully, next chapter soon!