Wow this was not supposed to be this long of a chapter, but I couldn't really find a good way to split it up. I'm sorry for this massive wall.

"C'mon, you never come out with us! It won't kill you to have one night of fun with your friends! Don't ignore us again, Marik!"

The Egyptian rolled his eyes and kept his attention focused on sweeping the floor. Every night that he, Jounouchi, Honda, and Atem closed up the restaurant, Jounouchi invited Marik to go out with them after. It usually included having dinner and a couple of drinks. Every time, he would either reject their offer or made some excuse as to why he couldn't go. However, instead of taking the hints that Marik would rather chop off his own hand than be forced to spend time with the three outside of work, Jounouchi just became more persistent.

"I know you want to let loose and have fun like the rest of us!"

Thankfully, Marik was saved from having to give the other an answer again when Honda hurried over to put Jounouchi into a headlock.

It was how the nights at work always seemed to end, with the two of them roughhousing. Rather than watch the grown men acting like children, Marik just kept on sweeping.

Despite the routine of the night continuing on the same as ever, Marik wanted to break that mold tonight. Ever since he and Bakura had come to a very tentative sort of understanding the week prior, his curiosity about the white-haired tenant had doubled. Marik told himself that he should just drop it so that he didn't make things worse again…but his resolve never usually lasted more than a few hours before he was curious and wondering once more.

It was why he had a plan for tonight. Atem seemed the most levelheaded out of the trio, and it seemed from his previous evasion that he had the most history with Bakura. Marik was going to find out more about Bakura if it was the last thing he did. Then perhaps he could put the whole issue to rest and go about his life normally.

Making his way over to where Atem was organising menus, he finished sweeping the area before leaning on the end of his broom to speak to the other.

"Those two are as rowdy as ever, hm?"

Atem looked up at the voice, surprised for a moment that Marik was the one instigating a conversation for the first time in a while. However the surprise faded away quickly, a smile overtaking his features.

"Yes well, they've been that way since high school. You get mostly used to it once you've been around it long enough."

Marik let out a strained laugh as he moved to start sweeping the trash and dust up. The last thing he wanted were some length anecdotes about the high school lives of his coworkers. But at least it was a good Segway into the part of the conversation Marik had actually planned for.

"It's really…something that you guys have been friends for so long. Ah, but I wonder what happened with Bakura?"

The moment Marik mentioned Bakura's name, Atem flinched and he looked away with dark eyes. A spark of curiosity lit inside of him at the action, but Marik decided to continue before he lost his nerve and called off the entire thing.

"You guys mentioned that you used to be friends with him, but now you aren't. I wonder why that is?"

Atem sighed, hands stilling and there was a moment where he wondered whether the other would actually answer his question. However, after a minute of silence, Atem turned to Marik.

"Things just got…complicated with him."

"Complicated? What do you mean? Last I heard you guys seemed to just…fall out of friendship with each other."

Atem sighed once again, as if the action could rid himself of the weariness that seemed to have settled over him suddenly. He rubbed the back of his head as he attempted to collect his thoughts, and Marik waited patiently, trying not to laugh as the spikes on Atem's head seemed to sway. The motion reminded him of a starfish yet again and he tried to keep his composure as Atem continued.

"Well, that's not the entire story. Bakura and I, well…we dated towards the end of high school and were pretty close."

And that shattered Marik's carefully constructed unfazed façade. His jaw dropped a bit as he moved to lean on the end of his broom.

"No way, really? So then, what, he doesn't like you guys just because you and he broke up?"

Atem looked away as if the question bothered him, though Marik couldn't imagine why. Finally, after a whole minute more, Atem finally turned to answer, face twisted into a pained expression.

"That's not it; he broke up with me because of something else. And then he just…shut down, cut off contact, fell out of our group and our lives. Really, everything started when his–"

Atem's words were drowned out by Honda and Jounouchi's roughhousing and Marik could have screamed at it. He had been so close to unlocking another mystery of Bakura, finding more answers. But his anger was short-lived.

Jounouchi and Honda's horseplay had made its way over to them, and they pushed each other without noticing how close they were to Marik. One shove pushed Jounouchi into Marik, the blonde colliding with the Egyptian's back. The moment the two collided, Marik nearly screamed as pain flashed across his back. His vision blurred for a moment as nausea welled up, rising in the back of his throat. Marik used all his strength to keep himself upright and keep himself from heaving on the floor.

At once, he saw Atem, Jounouchi, and Honda's eyes fill with confusion and concern. Before they could ask what was wrong or even offer to help him, Marik rushed away. Atem's voice called out after him but Marik ignored everything.

He wasn't sure how he managed to get outside and onto his bike, but before he knew it he was speeding down the street. He was thankful that even in an emergency his body knew how to try and get his somewhere safe. Of course, he supposed it matter little how he got out; all that mattered was that he was away from prying eyes and questions he wasn't mentally prepared or capable of answering.

How could he explain his reaction to anyone? They wouldn't understand, even if he wanted to explain about the pain and why he had run away. Even with his father long dead, the bastard's pain lived on, like a parasite on Marik's skin.

The entire long, agonising ride back to the apartment building, Marik's brain kept replaying memories from his childhood. Memories of his father screaming, voice loud enough to fill the entire room and invade every inch of Marik's mind. Memories of bruises that sent dull echoes of pain through every motion and sleepless nights spent holding back tears because if he let himself cry then he would shatter.

Memories of that night when his father had come into his room, the smell of alcohol cloying and nauseating before he even took a step towards the frightened child. The sharp knife that glinted menacingly in the dim glow of multiple nightlights. The fear in Marik as he tried to run, to escape only to be pinned to the bed under his father rough hands. The rest of the memory was nothing but waves of pain, burning and searing as the knife came down in deep slashes along his back over and over and over again. His father's voice cut through the haze, the hatred and anger boring into Marik like a knife to his ears.

He cried out as old pain mixed with new, burning like a forest fire along his skin. He needed to get back to his apartment so that he could try to escape the rising panic.

When he pulled up to park, Marik climbed off of his bike faster than he thought he was capable of. However, it took him a few moments to start moving, fighting back pain with every step.

Of course, the elevator was still out of order; it was an odd passing thought, but Marik was amused that even though his life was turning into a mess in mere minutes that there were things that never seemed to change.

However whatever amusement he gleaned from the moment evaporated as he took long laboured strides towards the stairwell.

Every step sent shockwaves of pain from the bottoms of his feet all the way up and across his back and shoulders. His mind began to helpfully supply the memories to go along with each step, like a macabre soundtrack of each wound.

"You should never have been born, worthless piece of shit! My unhappiness is all your fault!"

Marik's feet seemed to drag, each step draining him of energy as he gripped for the railing in the hopes it would support his climb. However helpful the railing was, the stairs seemed endless and by the time he arrived to the second-floor landing, his breath was coming out in wheezes. Marik wasn't sure whether or not it was due to his pain, rising panic, or a mixture of the two.

Whatever the case, his legs seemed to give out on him without warning as Marik collapsed to the stairs, holding his head in his hands. He hunched tight, closing in on himself as if the simple action alone could ward off any of the memories. Still, they came and bore into him all over again.

"You are a disgrace! You are better off dead, stupid fuck!"

Tears, unbidden and unwelcome rose in Marik's eyes as hid chest ached from his rapid breathing. He tried to sink his teeth into his lip to gain some semblance of control over the moment but it was a futile effort as the offending tears rolled down his face.

There was no time to break down in peace, as much as he needed to, for a familiar voice filled the stairwell, echoing from below Marik.

"Well, well, can't climb a few stairs without getting winded? You need to get in shape, Ishtar. I hear gym memberships are relatively cheap nowadays."

No, no, anyone but Bakura, not now. Hell, he would rather Atem see him like this, vulnerable and exposed. Marik made no motion to respond or react to the words. Perhaps if he just ignored the other, Bakura would lose interest and walk on by without incident. But fate was pressing and pressing, not on his side as echoing footsteps alerted him to Bakura's approach. Realising that his words seemed to have no effect on Marik, Bakura scoffed and continued to climb the stairs towards Marik.

"Ignoring me, are you? My how rude! And here I thought we had both come to some nonsensical truce with one another. Don't go putting us back to square one now."

Silence filled the air between the two men and he heard Bakura grunt in frustration as his words were met with no rise.

"This is the longest I've heard you be quiet, Ishtar. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Marik took a moment in an attempt to compose himself once more before peeking out from behind his hands. It was in time however to see Bakura reaching out to grab onto his shoulder.

Marik flinched so hard it looked as if a shockwave had overtaken him before he found himself nearly shouting at the other.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

Bakura's hand stopped midmotion and he hesitated a moment before pulling back. There was a tense moment as brown eyes stared deeply at Marik's shaking frame. It wasn't forever however as the white-haired male let out a deep sigh and took a step back, offering a hand out.

"C'mon then; I'll help you to your apartment. Better than sitting here, right?"

No sarcasm, none of his normal snarky behaviour or words. There was a moment of surprise as Marik took in just how calm Bakura was seemingly acting.

It took a moment but Marik managed to untense and stand, though he leaned against the wall until his legs were steady enough to hold him. Bakura held out a hand before him, offering it to Marik to steady himself.

It took a few minutes, but Bakura waited patiently, watching Marik with steady eyes. He only began to move when Marik slowly began to ascend, ignoring Bakura's helping hand. He felt no better than before, but with Bakura walking beside him, Marik felt a strange sense of safety. As if Bakura's mere presence could keep the memories that threatened to overwhelm Marik at bay.

They arrived to the third floor before long and Bakura stood back, allowing Marik space as he searched his pockets for his keys. Once he found them and opened the apartment, Marik turned to Bakura and gave him a curt nod.

"Thanks for walking up with me, but I'm fine now. So you can–"

His words were cut off however as Bakura walked past him and into the apartment beyond. He stared after the albino for a few moments before he stepped in and closed the door with a mutter.

"No, by all means, please come in. Make yourself right at home."

There was no way Bakura could have heard his words but he acted as though he had, wandering into the kitchen. Still in immense amounts of pain and feeling more worn out than he would like to admit, Marik remained standing by the door.

The way Bakura was acting made him feel more like the guest instead of the apartment owner.

He remained standing until Bakura appeared around the corner of the kitchen doorway, frowning at the blonde.

"Sit on the couch already. And where do you keep the kettle?"

"Kettle?"

Bakura scoffed before disappearing back into the kitchen, voice raising as he continued his search.

"You know, metal thing meant for heating up water, usually for tea."

"I know what a kettle is, asshole," Marik snapped before he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and continued.

"What I want to know is why you're tearing apart my kitchen looking for my kettle. I already told you I'm fine and I don't need you to stay."

"Why else would I be looking," came the reply and Marik could practically hear the eyeroll in every word. "To make tea. It's helpful for calming you down, especially when you're shaking."

Marik prepared to snap at the other, tell him that he wasn't shaking, but as if Bakura's words had opened his eyes, he realised that his hands were trembling. It made him feel weaker than he had before and he moved to press his hands against his torso to force them to still.

There was a moment he hesitated before Marik moved to sit on the couch. He heard more banging from the kitchen before a sound of triumph sounded as Bakura had successfully completed his quest for the kettle.

The shrill voice of the whistling kettle filled the apartment before long and Bakura reentered the living room holding two mugs. He handed one to Marik and seated himself on the same couch with his own mug.

The silence that filled the room was a comfortable one, and Marik would have been content to sit there for a while and sip at tea…but his back still ached and would persist if he didn't try to soak it or try to relax it.

However Marik couldn't do that while Bakura remained; he didn't want Bakura to know what had happened in his past and if he stayed he would have questions.

So instead, he remained silent, sipping at his tea as he attempted to relax as much as he could with the other male sitting beside him. He had nearly finished his mug when Bakura finally spoke, agitation lacing his words.

"So after being such a courteous gentleman, bringing you to your apartment, you won't offer me any sort of explanation?"

Marik turned a glare on the other, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

"I did not ask for your help. So the way I see it, I don't owe you a god damn thing."

"How cold! That sure shows me being nice is a perfect way to get penalised."

Sarcasm dripped from Bakura's words and his grin did nothing to infuriate Marik further.

"I'm glad this is all a game to you. Look, if you're going to be an asshole…well, more of an asshole than you usually are, then you can just get the fuck out of my apartment."

Bakura held up his hands in a show of fake surrender, his grin only widening.

"Damn, you're so crabby when you're upset. Calm down, Ishtar."

"I am calm," he snapped in a most assuredly uncalm voice. Bakura huffed at the stubbourn male and stood without warning. As he began to advance on Marik, the blonde jumped up and began to back away as fast as he could. He felt unsafe as it was and the way the other advanced on him made Marik feel like prey under a predator's gaze.

When he felt his back hit the wall, Marik cried out and grimaced, closing his eyes as new pain wound with old. Normally his back wouldn't have been so sensitive, but when it was hit hard enough, it radiated pain for hours after, even at the slightest touch.

When Marik finally opened his eyes, he was surprised at the look on Bakura's face. No snark or normal smug satisfaction marred his features. Instead his face was calm, eyes sad as he looked over Marik. When he spoke, the words were calm and quiet.

"Jesus Marik, just let me help you. I'm not going to hurt you, promise."

Perhaps it was the quiet words, or the way Bakura's brow wrinkled attractively that made it all seem so believable. Whatever the case, Marik hesitated for a brief moment before he finally nodded and let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding in.

"Alright."

Bakura let out a gentle breath before he nodded and leaned away to give Marik a bit of space.

"Tell me what you want me to do."

Marik took a moment to push away from the wall, walking towards the couch as he answered over his shoulder.

"Go get a towel from the bathroom and soak it in hot water. Then bring it and some more hot water back here."

If the request was confusing or strange, Bakura didn't ask and Marik offered no explanation. The white-haired male simply nodded and headed into the bathroom.

Marik situated himself on the couch, making sure Bakura would have plenty of room to sit behind him. When the pale man returned with the items that had been requested, Marik patted the couch next to him, beckoning to Bakura.

"Bring that over here and take a seat."

Bakura once again obeyed silently, putting the bucket of hot water on the coffee table before sitting and returning his gaze to Marik. After a minute of silence, he cocked a brow, opening his mouth to say something. But, Marik held up a hand to silence the other.

"Don't. Just…be patient, please. This isn't easy for me."

Bakura's mouth closed and he gave a curt nod before falling back into silence. The calm demeanour threw Marik, and it was the other's patience that finally allowed him to exhale and start to position himself, back facing Bakura.

"Before we start…know that I'm not prepared to talk about the things I'm sure you will ask about," he warned before he cautiously peeled off his shirt, revealing his back.

Silence filled the room like smoke, a choking lingering thing. He could feel Bakura's eyes staring at his back, the stare heavy enough to feel as though fingers dragged over each scar.

For that was what marred the otherwise flawless bronze skin. Long jagged scars, some deeper than others that crossed like macabre lattice work. They spread from his shoulders all the way down the full expanse of Marik's back.

To his credit, Bakura was able to remain silent for a full minute before his words seemed to burst from him, like water from a dam.

"Christ, what the hell happened to you, Marik?"

With effort, Marik managed to twist around, wincing in pain before he trained a vicious glare on Bakura's baffled face.

"I told you, I'm not ready to talk about it, so if you can't listen to that simple thing then you can get the hell out of my–"

"Alright! I won't ask," Bakura interjected, throwing up his hands in a show of surrender. The two stared at each other for a half minute before Bakura continued in a quieter tone.

"Tell me what you need me to do, and I'll do it."

Marik sighed deeply, feeling exhausted as he turned his back to Bakura again.

"Take the towel and soak it in the water before gently laying it over my back. When it gets hurt, I usually need to soak it to start making it feel better. Sometimes, using the cloth and laying it on my…scars is better though. And it can be helpful to have someone else help to reach everywhere."

Bakura remained silent, his own hesitation taking over him for a moment before he soaked the towel and rang it out before laying it over the other's back. Marik hissed in pain as the sudden heat and towel on his scars made the pain flare to life tenfold.

Immediately, Bakura pulled the towel back, asking, "Are you alright?"

Marik tried to pull some bit of calm from the deep breath he inhaled before he nodded.

"I'm fine. It hurts, but it will feel better before long. It usually does, anyway."

Bakura nodded unseen to Marik before he replaced the towel once more, gentler than before and the motion caused confusion to stir in Marik. But as the heat brushed his pain, the Egyptian's teeth gritted once. He used every ounce of his strength to remain quiet, keeping the pained sounds inside himself.

Bakura seemed to take the silence as a good sign as his hands started to move the towel in gentle soothing motions.

The longer Bakura worked, the more relaxed Marik became as his tense body seemed to visibly untie itself from the knots of anxiety it had gotten wrapped up in.

But things were still hazy in Marik's mind and the longer Bakura stayed, the more confused the blonde became. After yet another minute of silence filled the space between them, Marik decided to risk the peace and sate his curiosity.

"Bakura…why…why are you doing this? Why are you staying and helping me?"

He expected an immediate scoff, some sort of excuse that the other had only come along to make fun of and irritate Marik. However, what he got was silence followed finally by even words.

"I honestly didn't expect you to be able to make it up to your apartment on your own. I don't think you realise just how near passing out you looked."

There was a pause before Bakura continued, grin evident in his words even without seeing it.

"But you owe me big time for all this trouble, you know. Two or three steak dinners should about cover it."

Marik's own smile lifted his expression as he looked over his shoulder, eyes glimmering mischievously.

"Asking me out, are you? My, who knew that allowing you to play the knight in shining armour would turn you on so much."

Marik grinned when Bakura's pale cheeks became painted with a faint blush, his own grin turning to a jagged frown.

"Who the hell said anything about a date, idiot? I meant that you can go and buy them for me and deliver them to my door."

"And do I look like I'm made of money? Find something else to fantasize about."

There was a moment of stillness before both men burst into laughter at one another. If anyone had walked in on the moment, they would have written the two off as insane. But after the night he had gone through, Marik could have used a little insane.

They weren't at it long before their laughter died off. Bakura managed to get himself under control before Marik as he gently began to peel the towel off of his skin.

"Do you want me to soak it again, or…"

Marik shook his head and slowly began to stretch out, assessing how he felt as the pull of the muscles in his back ached, though not in a bad way.

"I think I'll be okay. I feel better, at least enough that I can sleep tonight. If I can spend a few hours resting then I'll be okay come the morning."

He turned back to Bakura before grabbing for his shirt and the bucket so that he could begin to clean up.

"You really are okay to head out now. I won't pass out or anything like that, trust me."

He moved to dump the water in the kitchen sink before returning, surprised to see Bakura sitting on the couch still.

As he began to open his mouth to retort, brow furrowing in frustration, Bakura cut in and interrupted the other's oncoming rant.

"Look, I get that you're not really open to talk about this, but really you can't blame me for my curiosity. What the hell happened to you? Who or what did that to you?"

At once, Marik felt conflicted; he could very well tell Bakura about what his father had done to him, but it was a terrifying thing. Never had he opened up to anyone, not even his own siblings who would understand more than anyone. It was inconceivable to think about opening up to Bakura, especially considering the other's temperament.

After the torrent of quick thoughts speeding through his mind, Marik made up what he planned to say and moved closer to Bakura, leaning against the wall where the other sat on the couch.

"I'm only going to say this once and if you bring it up after this I will make sure you regret it. You clearly have your secrets that I have learned not to pry about, and I have my secrets that I expect you to respect as well."

Despite the exhaustion clawing deep lines down Marik's face, his violet eyes were aflame with anger that had been smoldering for longer than the evening he had been through.

And those eyes seemed to be enough. Bakura looked into them for a long while as they stared one another down. But a switch seemed to flip without a moment's notice as Bakura broke his gaze away.

"Alright, I get the point. I have your secrets, you have yours. I won't pry anymore. Besides…"

He took a moment before that natural Bakura grin fell back into place, pose relaxing in an instant, as if poking fun at Marik was his favourite way to wind down.

"You're no fun to tease if you get crabby about it and snap back. And I like my entertainment to be fun."

Just like that, all of Marik's worries seemed to melt away. The casual teasing was the best medicine and he couldn't help his smirk.

"Yeah yeah, enjoy teasing me while you can. I'll get you back for it. Now get the hell out of my apartment. If you keep hanging around, someone might get the wrong idea that you actually like spending time with me."

"In your dreams, Ishtar," Bakura said, standing and quickly flicking Marik in the forehead before he chuckled and made his way to the door.

"Remember, I want those steaks," he reminded the other, winking at Marik as he slid out of the apartment like a phantom. Once he was alone, Marik slumped onto the couch face first so as to leave his back free of irritations. He felt like someone had popped a hole in his body and the longer he laid there the more his energy leaked out of him.

It had been a hell of a night, one he didn't want to relive any time soon, but one that had had its good moments as well. It had been more than a surprise that Bakura had been so civil. Well, as civil as he could be. The more that they encountered one another, the more that the blonde felt the wall between them chipping away little by little.

But he couldn't trust him with the story, not yet. No matter how close anyone got to him, Marik felt like the story of his scars was a small part of him that remained under lock and key. If anyone knew that about him, he would be seen as weak. After his past, he couldn't afford to let anyone have that power over him. Not even a tenant that he was really warming up to.

He had intended to crawl his way into bed, but the longer he laid there the more exhausted he became until sleep dragged him under with greedy hands.