DD: Hey guys. Sorry it took a while to update. Writer's block and up at CTYI at the moment so I don't have much time to write. However, here is the much-anticipated chapter with the Artist! Enjoy!
The trapdoor was heavy, but Heru managed to lift it. He was used to the heavy lifting; whenever he went with his father to work, it was always him who passed up the hammer, or brick, or tub of wet cement.
Granted, the trap door was heavier. But Heru didn't need help. He would have to ask a classmate for help and he didn't like them.
They would just ruin his secret. He could always ask Heba, but they were fighting because Heba was a meanie and wouldn't share the toy truck.
He managed to pull it up just enough to slip through. It slammed shut over him, and he tensed on instinct. The sound rang through the dark hall in front of him.
He waited until the ringing stopped before taking a small step forward. Then he paused. The ringing had stopped, so why wasn't his breathing and footstep the only sound?
He could hear another breath; shaky and loud and panicked. A sob.
"Hello?" For a minute, there was silence. Then another sob. "Who's there?"
A sniffle. "G-G-Go aw-way..."
Heru took a step towards the sound. Then another. "Who's there?" He raised his foot to take another.
"S-S-Stop!" Heru stopped. Another sob. "I-I-I'm s-sorry, t-there's a... a t-tr-trap..."
Heru looked down. His eyes were growing accustomed to the dark; a wire line ran across the floor. Heru stepped over it.
Another sniffle. "W-why a-aren't you le-leaving?"
"Why are you crying?" Heru shot back. He could see the figure now. Small – smaller than him – and curled up in the corner of the hall. He made his way over.
The figure whimpered softly but didn't protest again. Heru slid to the ground beside him and touched his shoulder.
The figure yelped and Heru pulled back his hand. "Are you okay?" The figure shook his head. "Okay, sorry. What's your name?"
Another sniffle. And sob. And sob. And sniffle. "M-M-Mar-rik..."
"Marik?" The figure nodded. "Can you stand?" Another nod. And sniffle. "Come on." Heru stood and held out his hand. Marik shook his head. "Why not?"
"C-Can't l-leave him..."
"Who?"
"I-I don't know..." Another sob. "He-he l-looked like me..."
Heru nodded. "Okay. Okay, we can do that. Where is he?"
Marik raised a shaky hand and pointed to a room with a closed door. "T-There..."
"Just in there?" Heru blinked. "Then let's get him out."
Marik grabbed his sleeve. "W-Wait until they leave..."
"Who?"
"Just w-wait..."
They waited. And they didn't leave. Heru could hear murmurs through the door. There were people still there.
"Marik," he mumbled after an hour, "they're not coming out."
"T-They w-will," Marik sobbed.
Heru shook his head and outstretched his hand. "We need to go. We'll come back for him."
Marik looked up at him. "P-Promise?"
"I promise."
-DDLDHoW-
The tap-tap-tapping was echoing through the grey halls like bullets. Heru could see the guard on duty scowl and flinch with each one.
He couldn't help it; it was natural to be on edge.
The guard turned a page. Heru's teeth ground together and the tap-tap-tapping grew to taptap-taptapping.
The guard glared at him for a second before sliding his papers back under the glass. "I'm sorry but he already has a visitor at the moment."
Heru growled. "If you already knew that then what was the point in checking my papers?"
The guard sighed. "You'll have to wait for a while."
"How many visitors is he allowed?"
"Two, but-"
"It's highly unethical right?" Heru's glare pierced the guard's. "So am I. I'm allowed to go in there."
"He already has a visitor."
Heru clenched his fists. His papers crinkled in his hand. "And you're saying that he's allowed two at a time, so you're denying both him and myself a basic right. Let me in or get your supervisor."
Heru knew he was talking utter bullshit. And the guard probably did too. But Heru knew these types of people – they were the easiest to sway.
They were taught to do their job, and they didn't want to do anything more. Getting his supervisor would involve movement and a probable argument that would take effort. Too much effort for the guard to be bothered with.
He picked up a visitor's pass, stamped it, and slid it through to Heru. "You're entitled to a thirty minute visit. No more. You will be checked for weapons once you go through the first set of doors, and you will be required to remove your shoes, jacket and any jewellery, belts or watches once you go through the second set. You will be led to a table by a guard, who will stand out of earshot but close enough to stop any trouble from occurring. Understood?"
Heru nodded. "Understood." He took his visitor's pass and walked to the doors.
The guard was already back to reading the latest issue of Playboy under the table before Heru even got there. Typical. He was probably planning to jerk off in the toilet on his fifteen-minute break at eleven.
The guard by the door only glanced at Heru's visitor pass before leading him over to the table Marik was sitting at. The second the guard left, Heru threw his arms around Marik.
"What the fuck? Never pull this shit on me again, you little shit! I want to fucking strangle you right now!" He hissed into Marik's shoulder. His language always got a bit... out of hand when he was emotional.
Marik chuckled, shaking his head. "Shrew calm down."
Heru sighed and pulled away. He glanced over Marik. Orange overalls, white t-shirt, handcuffed to the table. "I'm going to kill them."
"Then you'll just be in the same place."
He turned at the sound of the voice. Pale, tri-coloured, purple. Yugi.
Heru slid into the seat beside Marik. "What're you doing here?"
Yugi looked down with a shrug. "I came to see Giraffe."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to." Yugi raised his gaze to meet Heru's. "Why did you come?"
Heru scowled at him. "I came to see my friend."
Yugi frowned. "Giraffe's my friend too."
Heru stubbornly took Marik's hand and held onto it – tightly. Marik sighed. "You're both my friends." He squeezed Heru's hand. "Thanks for coming. I appreciate it."
Yugi shook his head. "We're getting you out of here, Giraffe. You're not the Artist."
"But Zorc – and now Pegasus too – thinks that I am. Hell, the whole section does."
"Phoenix doesn't," Heru commented. He had met Malik on his way into the prison – standing outside, unsure whether Marik would welcome him in or not.
Marik kept his gaze on a dark stain on the steel table. "Yeah, well he's one in twenty something."
"We don't think you're the Artist either."
"Three in twenty something. That still holds the majority."
Heru swallowed, his grip on Marik's hand tightening. "Why aren't you scared?" His voice came out as a whisper.
Marik glanced at him and smiled softly. "I'm not scared of death," he replied. "I know I'm going to die. But..." He sniffed. "I get to see my mother again. That makes it worth it."
Heru shook his head. "You can't just give up on us, you asshole," he protested, but he could barely even finish the sentence.
"I'm not." Marik squeezed his hand again. "I'm giving up on me."
"You don't even know that they're going to-"
"Zorc personally delivered the execution date and time this morning." Marik smiled again. "I'm going to die in two days at noon – publically."
Heru's free hand balled into a fist. "They can't do this."
"They already are doing this."
Yugi shook his head and stood up. "No. We're not letting this happen." He turned away from the table. "You're not going to die, Giraffe. We'll sort something out."
"I fucking knew it was you."
"I know."
"I could turn you in you know."
"I know."
"I could let Giraffe die."
"I know."
He sighed. "So why am I choosing to help you?"
The Artist shook his head. "I don't know."
"I'm going to die, aren't I?"
"No." The Artist's heart thudded.
"Don't lie."
"I'm not lying."
"You don't think you're lying. I'm going to die."
"You're not."
"Whatever." He looked at the can in his hand. "All over the wall?"
"All over it. And then scream. Got it?"
"All over the wall and then scream. Got it."
"Good." The Artist hesitated. "I really appreciate this. You know that, right?"
He snorted. "I'm not doing this for you."
"Who for then?"
"The section."
"Crystal and Polar?"
"They'll get pulled in and hurt. Giraffe is their friend. And the section needs this." He grinned. "Just promise me; if I die, get everyone the fuck out of here."
The Artist nodded. "I promise."
His grin fell. "And tell my parents how I died."
You won't die, lingered on the Artist's lips, but again, he nodded. "I promise."
The wooden stage was crowded. Everyone from section seventeen – and one or two others – stood in front of it. Specks of Miho's blood still dotted the beams.
As Marik was shuffled up the steps, he kept his head high, as though he wasn't wearing an orange jumpsuit or shackles.
Malik, standing at the front, clenched his fists, but said nothing.
Marik's gaze flickered to him, but he too said nothing.
When he reached the wooden block at the centre of the stage, he was forced down to his knees.
Zorc stood in front of him. "For months now," he began as the camera focused on him, "the Artist has been plaguing section seventeen. Spreading rumours and lies in order to disrupt our society. He made the mistake of taking it out of his own section and was caught because of his stupidity." He waved a hand at Marik. "Now, he will pay for his crimes."
With everyone from every section watching. A live execution, televised to the whole of the ICU.
Marik closed his eyes as he was pushed forward. His chin hit the wooden block and he bit his tongue.
It would bruise, was his first thought. Then he remembered that it wouldn't matter – he was going to die.
His shackles were attached to the ground so he couldn't escape, but he knew that he wouldn't have been able to, even if they weren't.
Zorc had a gun; he had shown it to Marik in the prison.
"If you run, I won't shoot you. I'll shoot them. I'll fire into the crowd and once again, others will pay for your mistakes."
His eyes opened for a moment. Malik. Heru. Malik. Yugi. Malik. Ryou. Malik. Bakura. Malik. Heba. Malik. Malik. Malik.
He closed his eyes again. He couldn't watch. He couldn't watch. He couldn't watch their expressions as he was killed.
He couldn't.
He heard Zorc pick up the axe. "Now, the Artist's reign will end, and peace will return to our section again." The swish as it was raised. "The Artist is no more."
Marik tensed, but didn't scream. Someone else screamed for him.
"Stop! Look!"
The axe dropped. Marik heard it hit the floor.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up. Across Zorc's cube, in large, red writing read a new message.
MARIK ISHTAR IS NOT THE ARTIST.
At the foot of it, someone was dressed all in black. "The Artist lives," he screamed. "The Artist lives to fight another day! We will no longer allow you to keep us like this! We have been kidnapped and raised in a worse world than the one we were taken from! The Artist will free us from this hell. We-"
Marik didn't even see Zorc aim. He just heard the bullet fly from the barrel. It missed.
The man tried to run, but Zorc had better aim with a moving target than a still one. He shot again.
To all watching, the man could have easily just tripped or fainted. He just fell forward.
But Marik knew he wouldn't get up again. Zorc was scowling.
"Free him," he muttered to the guard that had brought Marik.
"But-"
"If he's not the Artist and we kill him, there will be nothing short of mass outrage. Free him."
Marik's eyes widened as he felt his shackles fall to the ground.
"You're free to go," the guard told him. "Your belongings will be returned to your unit by the end of the day."
He wasn't going to die. He could hear Zorc talking to the camera again, but he couldn't focus on it.
"The Artist is still- We will not let him- Anyone withholding information on his whereabouts- There is no such thing as Marik Ishtar- He is only Giraffe-"
"You're free to go," the guard repeated.
Marik staggered to his feet and made his way down the steps.
He was tackled into a hug by Yugi. "I told you," he mumbled just before Heru pulled him away.
"Give him a bit of space, Calico!"
A sob bubbled up in Marik's throat and escaped.
Heba was there too. Marik didn't know why. They weren't friends anymore.
"Giraffe?" Despite this, Heba took Marik's hand. "Are you okay?"
Tears slipped out of Marik's eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Another sob escaped his throat, followed by yet another one.
"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I-I can't-"
Heba wrapped his arms tightly around Marik. "Don't be," he murmured. "It's okay. I've got you."
Marik buried his head in Heba's shoulder, wailing. One or two looked on uncomfortably. A few had left. Some had gone over to the ally of the Artist's body.
Yugi, Heru and Heba were still there. Malik? Marik didn't know.
He raised his gaze and looked around, still crying. He couldn't see him, but he couldn't see through his tears very well.
He jumped when Heru touched his shoulder. "Let's go back to your cube," he murmured.
Marik shakily nodded, crying even harder. His legs shook; he had to lean on Heba as they walked.
Yugi smiled softly at him. "I told you that you wouldn't die," he murmured. "I told you we'd sort something out."
Marik nodded through his tears.
He wasn't going to die.
Heba sat beside Atem on the couch and handed him the bowl of popcorn. "Here."
"Thanks." Atem pressed the play button. A film from section one – a remake of The Princess Frog – began to play. "Want some?"
Heba shook his head. "I'm not hungry." How could he be? Marik had nearly died, and Ushio had died.
His body wasn't hard to identify. Miho had broken down into tears when she heard, and Mai had called in sick for both of them so she could comfort her. Though Heba suspected Mai could have used the comfort too.
The section had gotten a night off. The whole section. Even Seto and Atem.
Malik had gone into work anyway, but everyone else was taking advantage of their night off.
It wasn't often that they got one.
"Is everything okay?" Atem asked after a few minutes. "You're quieter than usual."
"That's 'cause we're watching something."
Atem snorted. "You always critically analyse films and break them apart piece by piece."
"Yeah, well." Heba shrugged. "This seems like a good one so far."
"You can clearly see the camera in the reflection of the window," Atem protested.
"So? They did their best."
"Their best is terrible."
Heba snorted. "Now who's the one acting out of character?"
"Still you," Atem insisted.
"I'm not the one completely destroying someone's work!" Heba protested.
"That's the point." Atem took his hand. "You always do. You find it fun."
"Well you told me to stop." Heba pulled his hand away. "So I did."
"I wasn't being serious." Atem took his hand again. "You know I wasn't."
"Actually, I didn't." Heba folded his arms so Atem couldn't grab his hand anymore. "Too bad, so sad. Your actions made me doubt myself so now I've stopped. Oh well."
Atem was silent for a moment. "You're the Artist, aren't you?"
Heba's eyes widened. "What?"
"You're the Artist, right?" Atem repeated. "It makes sense. That's why you were so worried the past few days."
Heba couldn't help it. He threw back his head and howled with laughter.
Atem frowned at him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Heba shook his head, still laughing. "Strix-Strix, no!" He laughed. "No, I'm not the Artist."
"Then why-?"
Heba shook his head again, his laughter dying down. "Look, Giraffe and I were friends. I was worried about him."
Atem raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Heba nodded. "If you're sure."
"I am." Heba settled into the couch again. "You know, you're not a very good officer if that's all it takes to make you believe someone."
A small smile crossed Atem's face and he leaned down, pressing his lips to Heba's. "That's all it takes for you to make me believe you."
Heba rolled his eyes and turned to the screen. "You need to just let things happen," he commented after a minute. "Right now, we don't have a part to play in this. If this was a film, we'd be background characters. Those ones that get the 'help', 'look' or 'hooray' lines. We can't do anything."
"For now," Atem agreed. "But we'll work our way up. We're not letting this push us to the side." Heba looked up at him. "I'm not letting people die from this. Not again."
Heba sighed but rested his head on Atem's shoulder. "If you say so."
"Hey."
Malik looked up and sighed. "Hey," he greeted. "You really need to stop visiting me during feeding hours. It's not a good time."
He glanced at Keith's now-empty cage. They had let him out early. Ushio had been one of his friends.
"Sorry." Marik shrugged.
Malik glanced at him sharply. His head was lowered, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. He wore a skirt, but it was pleated and dull, and he wore black shoes, black socks and a white shirt.
It didn't exactly match his usual eccentric style.
"Everything okay?" Malik asked as he poured feed into Tori's bowl. She was due to be released the next night. They all were; that punishment faze was over. It wouldn't be long before the next one started and things would get busy again.
"Considering I started crying earlier?" Marik snorted. "No."
Malik hummed. "Yeah. You don't seem like the type to cry."
"Everyone cries."
Malik shot him a look. "In public. I picture you more getting angry. Yelling. Not crying."
Marik leaned against the barred wall. "That's because I generally do," he mumbled. "I don't cry a lot. Definitely not in public."
"So why this time?" Malik set the feed down.
Marik shook his head. His nails dug into his arms. "I didn't die."
Malik raised an eyebrow. "Normally that's something people would be pleased about."
"I am, I am." Marik shrugged. "But I was prepared to die. I wasn't scared of it. Knowing that I got to live, just... I don't know." He swallowed. "That wasn't what I came here to talk about anyway."
"Oh?" Malik's other eyebrow arched to join the first. "You came here with a point in mind? That's a first."
Marik's face burned. "Shut up." He swallowed again. His throat was still dry from the previous topic. "You didn't visit me while I was in prison."
"You weren't even there for a week." Malik shrugged. "I didn't see the point in it."
"Yet you saw the point in sending me things?" Marik pushed off the barred wall.
Malik shrugged again. "I thought you'd need them."
"The food?"
"Prison food is awful."
"The pillow?"
"I heard they only give you one."
"The blanket?"
"The sheets they give are too thin."
"The giraffe plushie?"
"Inside joke."
"The clothes?"
"Orange isn't your colour."
"The chocolates?"
"Thought it'd cheer you up a bit."
"The card?"
Malik had meant to take that out before he sent the basket. He shrugged again – silently this time.
Marik sighed. "Look, I just wanted to thank you," he mumbled. "You didn't need to do that for me."
Malik picked up the feed bag. "Yeah, maybe. But I wanted to."
Marik raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Malik shrugged. "I just did."
"Yes, but why did you want to?"
Malik blew hair out of his eyes. "I don't know."
"Then-?"
"I just wanted to, okay?" He turned away. "You're welcome for the things."
Marik stayed where he was. "I would have preferred if you'd visited me."
Malik paused, then sighed and set down the bag. He turned to face Marik. "Well what's done is done. And why would you want me to visit you?"
Marik shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? We're friends, aren't we?"
Malik chuckled. "You show up randomly at the zoo to talk and for some reason, I don't kick you out. We're friends."
"Then why wouldn't I want you to visit me?"
Malik sighed and looked away. "I was the reason you were in there," he mumbled. "I was the one stupid enough to think that a mat was a good enough hiding place for a key. If I had thought of somewhere better, they wouldn't have blamed me and you wouldn't have had to step in to save me."
"I didn't have to," Marik protested. "I wanted to."
"Why?" Malik swallowed.
"I just did." Marik shrugged one shoulder.
Malik sighed. Was he purposefully turning Malik's tactic on him, or was it coincidence? Probably the former. "Yes, but wh-?"
Marik stepped forward and pressed their lips together. Malik's eyes widened.
Marik was kissing him. Marik was kissing him. Marik was kissing him.
Before he could even return the kiss, Marik pulled back. His lips were parted, panting slightly, and his eyes were wider than Malik's.
"I-I'm sorry," he gasped. He turned and ran.
"Giraffe!" Malik called, but Marik kept running.
Malik wanted to run after him. And yet, for some reason, he didn't.
No streamers. No balloons. No cake. No parties. That's how birthdays went in the ICU.
If one was lucky, a teacher might give the class homework off for the night. Might.
Yugi, naturally, was one of the lucky ones. No homework; three out of five classes.
And a few small presents shoved into his locker by his friends.
A new notebook from Marik – purple with a Calico on it. Of course. Some cards from Ryou. A small chocolate bar from Heba – with the price tag still on it.
Yami had promised a present; later. Just not at school.
After Yugi received his requested present.
His heart thudded painfully as he walked towards Zorc's cube.
We can go in with you if you want, Ryou offered. We don't mind.
Marik nodded in agreement, but Yugi shook his head. "There's no point; Zorc will kick you guys out." He shrugged. "Besides, I'll only be in there for a minute."
"If you're sure," Marik mumbled.
Yugi wasn't sure, but he had already knocked on the door. Ryou and Marik reluctantly turned and walked a few metres away.
Marik had a few more days off because of the 'little fright' his near-execution had given him.
He still woke from nightmares about it, screaming.
Zorc opened the door, smirking down at Yugi. "Well, Calico. Sixteen? How do you feel."
Yugi shrugged. "I feel fine," he mumbled.
Zorc's smirk grew and he opened the door wider. "Want to come in?" Yugi shook his head. "Then wait here while I get your request."
He walked back into his cube. Yugi used the opportunity to glance around.
There was still a slight stain of MARIK ISHTAR IS NOT THE ARTIST, but most of it had been cleaned away.
"Here."
Zorc was back faster than he had expected, holding a carrier.
Yugi took it with a small smile. "Thank you."
Zorc smirked again. "Enjoy the rest of your birthday." He closed the door in Yugi's face.
Yugi turned and ran down to Ryou and Marik, careful not to jostle the carrier too much.
Marik's eyes lit up at the sight of it. "What'd he get you?"
Yugi opened the latch on top and all three peered inside.
A small, Calico kitten with white paws and beautiful amber eyes stared up at them and mewed.
Marik smirked, but his eyes were soft. "Didn't think even you would bend and joke about your name."
Yugi shook his head. "That was him," he sighed. "I just asked for a kitten." He set down the carrier and lifted the tiny creature out.
The kitten looked around before focusing on Yugi. It raised a paw and booped Yugi's nose before sneezing.
What are you going to name her? Ryou asked, after checking to make sure that it was indeed a her.
Yugi grinned. "Rosa Parks."
Marik knocked on the door to Malik's cube. The restrictions had finally been lifted.
Pegasus had visited their section during Ushio's cremation to tell them.
Something along the lines of the Artist still being able to get out with them, and it hindering their ability to catch the Artist if no one could catch him in the act.
Zorc hadn't been happy about it, but he didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. He had been disgraced when he shot Ushio.
Now, aside from those who didn't have work, they had about four hours of free-time.
Malik was probably going to get extra hours during that free time, so he could get into a good college. Marik didn't blame him. He should be doing the same.
But he was more likely to get a scholarship than Malik was.
After a minute, Marik knocked again. The walls were dark, so Malik had to be inside.
"I'm coming!" He heard Malik snap from inside. The door swung open, revealing Malik with a towel around his waist. He froze mid-scowl. "Oh. Hey, Giraffe."
Marik offered him a small smile. "Expecting someone else?"
Malik shrugged. "Necro sometimes comes over just as I'm about to go into the shower to piss me off." He held the door open. "Come on in."
Marik stepped through the door and Malik closed it again.
Malik's cube was... interesting. Paintings lined the bathroom wall and door; black, and red, and blue.
Marik never had much time for art, but even to him, they didn't look similar. "Did you make those?"
Malik nodded. "Yeah. I love painting. Hoping to get into an art school."
"Cool." Marik slipped his thumbs into his pockets.
After a moment of silence, Malik sighed. "What are you doing here? I know you didn't come by to make small talk."
Marik shrugged, kicking the ground. "I got bored and decided to visit you. I never see you outside of the zoo."
Malik raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware that you wanted to see me after what happened." Marik looked away. "Look, if you don't want to talk-"
"No!" Marik swallowed before repeating, "No," in a quieter tone. "It's not that. I just..."
"You just...?" Malik prompted, leaning against the wall.
Marik shrugged. "I'm not good with dealing with things like... like that." He wasn't good at dealing with things in general. Especially not emotion-related things. "I didn't mean to run off."
Malik mimicked his actions. "I figured as much." He turned away. "Again, I don't mind if you don't want to see me again."
Marik swallowed. "But I do..." He whispered.
Malik turned to him. "What?"
Marik took a step towards the taller man. "I do still want to see you," he insisted. "I kissed you. I do like you. I'm just... not good with relation-y things." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I'll go now." He turned away.
Malik caught his hand. "Wait!" He dropped Marik's hand almost immediately after catching it. "Sorry, I just- I wasn't thinking there."
Marik turned to face him again. "What is it?"
Malik hesitated, and looked away. Then he looked up at Marik again. "I like you too," he muttered. "I'm just shit with emotions too. More than you are."
Marik couldn't help it; a wide grin crawled across his face. "Really?"
Malik nodded. "Yeah, I can't deal with emotions; my own or oth-"
"I meant- You know what I meant." Marik rolled his eyes.
Malik chuckled. "I know, I'm just messing." He met Marik's gaze again. "But yes. I really do like you."
Marik's eyes lit up. Malik hesitated before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Marik's lips. When they pulled away, Marik grinned at him. "Just to piss people off, can we say we're partners?"
Malik frowned in confusion. "Rather than boyfriends?" Marik nodded. "Sure, but why."
Marik's grin grew. "'Cause that way we can say we're... Partners in Crime."
Malik's face fell. "Like the Set It Off song?" Marik nodded. "Get out." Malik pointed to the door. "The door's right there."
But he couldn't stop himself from grinning.
Marik laughed and wrapped his arms around Malik. "You'd miss me too much."
Malik chuckled. "Yeah, I guess. That's why we're-" He pressed a kiss to Marik's cheek. "-Partners in Crime."
"Happy Halloween."
Keenan from section fifteen threw him an odd look. "It's July."
Heru shrugged and smiled a little too sweetly. "Then happy Freak Day. Enjoy your costume."
Keenan glared at him as he left the shop. Once the door clanged shut, Heru called over his shoulder, "That's another one; now I'm on forty. What's your score?"
Akefia pushed out from behind the curtain that led to the back of the shop, scowling. "Seventeen."
Heru couldn't help but laugh. "I want to believe you let it stay on that number on purpose. I really, really do."
"Shut up." Akefia folded his arms. "We can't all be as good as you are at insulting people."
Heru flicked the till open and jammed the Aira into it. "I've just had more practice than most." He scribbled the sum into a book. "That in Zira is twelve hundred and forty, right?"
Akefia shrugged. "You're the maths whiz. You figure it out."
Heru glared at him but continued scribbling. "One Aira is worth one point four nine five Zira. The costume was eight hundred and twenty nine Aira. Eight two nine by one point four nine five is..." He paused and did the calculations. "Twelve hundred and thirty nine point three five five. Rounded down, that's twelve hundred and thirty eight." He frowned. "Damn it, two Zira off."
"But if you round up, you're only one Zira off," Akefia pointed out.
Heru sighed. "But I can't round up because they're all on the underside of six. If it was point five six six, then I could round up because both sixes would round up into sevens, which would round the five up into a six, which would round the nine up into a ten. But because it's point three five five, the fives can round up into sixes, but the three can only round up into a four, so it has to round down to an eight."
Akefia shook his head. "I didn't get a word of that. Simplify it for me."
Heru sighed. "I can't round up because the numbers aren't big enough. Look, the-" He paused and turned to glare at Akefia. "Was that a fucking pun?"
Akefia snickered. "Maybe, maybe not."
Heru huffed, his glare deepening. "I hate you."
"You know you love me," Akefia protested, leaning on the counter.
Heru grunted in agreement. "Yeah, but I should hate you."
"You should," Akefia agreed, "but for some reason, you don't. So I win."
Heru scowled at him. "Pleased with yourself?"
A Cheshire-like grin curved onto Akefia's face. His scar warped from a jagged line into a crescent moon with two lines breaking it. "Extremely."
Heru rolled his eyes. "I swear, I should just join the Artist to get out of here and leave you behind. That's the only way I'll escape from your puns." When Akefia didn't reply, Heru peered up at him. "That's your cue for another comeback in the form of a pun."
Akefia shrugged. "Didn't feel like it." He sounded quieter than usual.
Heru frowned and pressed his hand to Akefia's forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"
Akefia shook Heru's hand off. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. After another moment of silence, he looked at Heru. "So you agree with him? The Artist?"
Heru raised an eyebrow. "That's what this is about?"
Akefia scowled. "Yes, that's what this is about."
Heru rolled his eyes and turned to the book, adding the rounded down Zira to the lodgings. "I agree with him on some of the stuff he says. And I want to get out of here."
"Why?" Akefia shook his head. "We've got a pretty good life here."
Heru looked up at him, his eyes narrowed. Calculating. "We live in see-through, twelve-by-fourteen metre boxes with two hours of privacy a day in a section that's receiving eighty four percent of the prejudice in here and with a sadistic freak who just tried to publically execute one of our friends as our leader. We work in a costume shop for minimum wage with no breaks every day with five days off a year – generally – where our only entertainment is who can insult the most customers. We steal for extra money and if we get caught or do something wrong, we're thrown into a humiliation-run, dehumanitising zoo where we have to dress up as an animal based on our name and be the attractions that people go to visit." He spread his hands. "Give me one part of any of that where it's a 'pretty good life'."
Akefia reached out and took one of his hands. "The part where I still have you."
Heru's gaze softened – slightly. "So you're worried about me." Akefia nodded. "Don't be. I'm not stupid enough to do anything." Heru leaned up and pressed a kiss to Akefia's cheek. "I'm not going to leave you."
Akefia sighed. "You don't know that."
Heru grinned. "Yes I do. Because if I go anywhere, I'm dragging you with me."
A weak chuckle escaped Akefia's mouth. "What makes you think I'll go with you?"
Heru smirked. "Because it's Freak Day every day, and two freaks in a relationship on Freak Day is the ultimate luck."
When Marik finally came back to school, Yugi cheered. Literally.
Marik rolled his eyes and pushed Yugi's hair down onto his head. "Shut up; you're drawing attention to us."
Yugi grinned and ducked under his hand. A week. Marik had been told by the school that they understood him not coming back yet; they had offered him a two-week holiday.
And Yugi hadn't seen him since the near-execution.
Except for Ushio's cremation, but that wasn't exactly a good time or place for small-talk. Or big-talk. Or talk. And his birthday, but Marik had been quieter than usual. Not himself.
Yugi had also been working over-time at the game shop to make enough money to buy food for Rosa Parks. So he hadn't been able to visit him.
"I'm sorry," was the first thing that escaped his mouth.
Marik blinked. "What for?"
Yugi shook his head. "I haven't been a very good friend. I should have visited you and-"
Marik covered his mouth, cutting him off. "Calico, it's not your fault. You did your best; and you have to feed Rosa now. I know you're busy."
Yugi looked down, pulling away from Marik's hand. "Still."
"No stills," Marik insisted. "I know you would've visited if you could have."
Yugi shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Still; I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Marik insisted. "I'm fine. See?" He splayed his arms out. "I'm even back at school a week early."
Slowly, Yugi nodded. "Yeah. I guess."
"No guessing. I'm fine." Marik adjusted his bag strap. "So what's up? You seem down." Yugi shrugged. "Calico."
"I'm fine," Yugi mimicked. "I'm just still a bit... shaken after Grizzly died." Marik narrowed his eyes. Yugi looked away. "I'm sorry."
Marik shook his head. "Look, you don't need to apologise for being upset by watching someone die. It's fine." He pulled his skirt down a bit. "I'm sorry too."
Yugi blinked. "Sorry? What are you sorry for?"
Marik shrugged, buttoning and unbuttoning the bottom button on his jacket. "I just am. You went through a lot of worry for me."
Yugi shook his head. "It's fine. I wasn't worried. I knew you'd get out."
Marik didn't look up at him. "How?"
"Hm?"
There was an interesting crack in the tiles that he kept his gaze on. "How did you know that I'd get out of prison? How did you know I wouldn't be killed?"
Yugi shook his head. "I just did. I just... I just knew. I believed in you."
"How?" Marik looked up at him. "I didn't believe in myself. How did you believe in me?"
Yugi swallowed. "I just did. And you managed it."
Marik shook his head. "No, Grizzly managed it. Grizzly and the Artist managed it." He looked down. "And now Grizzly's dead because of me."
Yugi took his hand. "Giraffe, it wasn't your fault," he insisted. "Grizzly chose to do it."
"But he still died because of me," Marik pointed out.
"He knew what he was getting into." Yugi squeezed his hand. "He wouldn't have done it if he didn't. If it was anyone's fault, it was the Artist's."
Marik shook his head. "Yeah. Maybe." Yugi's grip on his hand tightened. "There's something you're not telling me."
"I'm f-"
"I know you're fine." Marik met his gaze. "Or rather, I know you think you're fine." Yugi flinched. "But this is affecting you way more than it should be. Grizzly was an asshole to you. He bullied you and Griffin constantly."
Yugi shrugged and ran a hand through his hair. "He didn't deserve to die."
Marik squeezed his hand and kept his grip. "Tell me."
"I don't-"
"Tell me."
"Giraffe, I-"
"Tell me."
Yugi closed his eyes.
"Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell me. Tell-"
"Alright," Yugi hissed. "Alright, I'll tell you." His eyes opened again. "It's my fault. It's my fault Grizzly's dead. I got him to help me get you out."
Marik shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. He was with the Artist, and he would never agree to help you." He squeezed Yugi's hand again. "It wasn't your fault."
Yugi pulled his hand away. "Yes it was! Don't you get it?" He lowered his voice. "Marik. I'm the Artist."
DD: C'mon, you didn't really think it was Marik, did you? You guys know me better than that. Well done to everyone who correctly guessed the Artist's identity! Please review; see you next time, Killer Queens!