Chapter Seven: You Should Thank the Gods
"Malik's birthday is Christmas Eve, right?"
"There's no way he told you that. He hates his birthday."
"I think he did." Ryou finished painting the eyes on a figurine and laid it on the table to dry. "I mean, it's in my memories, so maybe he told Bakura." Unpleasant as it was to give his own name to the spirit, it seemed to be what Malik and Mariku called him.
"Why would he do that? To him, birthdays are nothing to celebrate. I think Christmas Eve is great, though," he smirked. "After all, I was born then, too."
"I see." Dipping his brush into a wine-red color, Ryou reached for another wooden figurine to paint. He was finally settling back into his old hobby, able to separate it from some of his worst memories. "Well, it's just a month until then. Maybe I can do something to make it a good day for him."
"Why are you so obsessed with making him happy?" Mariku slammed his palms down on the table and leaned over to sneer in Ryou's face. "And I just said twice that it's my birthday, too. Are you going to forget about me?"
The pure rage wafting off Mariku startled Ryou. He hadn't seen him this angry since his early days living with Malik, not even that night he'd nearly strangled his other half. "I didn't mean it to sound like that. Of course it would be for both of you-"
"Forget it, why the hell would I want a party?" Mariku snatched up the figurine of a maroon-cloaked wizard and snapped it between his fingers. He hurled the remnants at the wall before threatening, "Don't bring it up again, or I'll break more than your toys."
Mariku stormed out of Ryou's apartment and locked himself in Malik's bedroom. The scent of his other permeated it and it sickened him. He ripped one pillow apart and sent the rest flying into the far corners of the room. "Malik, you're killing us," he growled, hunching over the side of the bed and balling his fists.
For two weeks, Malik hadn't slept through the night. The intensity and frequency of his nightmares kept traveling unbidden along their mind link and preventing Mariku from resting as well. During the day, Malik pretended to be fine, but he couldn't hide his mental exhaustion from Mariku, especially since it was affecting him almost as much. He was ready to break Ryou's neck at the slightest infraction just to make himself feel better, but he doubted that would ease Malik's nightmares. He had to figure out something, because this fatigue was torture.
Malik kept his face free from dismay as his boss sighed and said what he'd known was coming. "Malik, I'm sorry, but we have no choice. We're going to have to let you go."
"...I understand." Malik wasn't going to beg him to reconsider, of course, though maybe if he had his Rod... Then again, he wasn't sure that he'd be able to use it at the moment. Having suffered from insomnia most of his life, he was no stranger to going without sleep, but to have such an extended episode was keeping him from functioning at all. He'd been caught drifting off in the lounge for the third time that week. It was a miracle it had taken this long for him to be fired.
Without waiting for a dismissal, he left the office, gathered his things, and trudged home. His sleep-deprived mind was yelling at him for his failure, reminding him that he didn't have enough money to support himself let alone Mariku. He couldn't just rely on Ryou, but returning to Egypt wasn't an option with Mariku around.
His darker half was waiting for him in the lobby, leaning by the elevator and watching a couple of children playing nearby with distaste. When he spotted Malik, he jabbed the elevator and stepped inside with him.
"Have a good day?" he asked sarcastically.
"Aside from getting fired, it was wonderful," Malik replied.
"Great, because mine's been terrible. What the fuck's your problem lately?"
"Nothing. Mind your own business."
"That's exactly what I'm doing."
Malik suppressed a shiver at the hatred coating his words. "I'm not in the mood for this." The elevator reached their floor. As soon as Malik stepped off it, Mariku grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.
"I don't care what you're in the mood for. Get in the apartment, go to bed, and sleep."
"Let go of me!"
"Only if you say you'll go to sleep now."
Malik pried Mariku's hand from his arm and stepped aside. "I'll sleep when I want to." Or the moment it's possible.
The added stress of losing his job caused Malik's sleep to become even worse. Neither he nor Mariku left the apartment for three days, ignoring Ryou's calls and knocks. Malik barely came out of his room, but he still didn't sleep. Mariku paced around, trying to keep himself from knocking Malik out. That would be extreme, but his other idea seemed even more so. He didn't want to do it, but after seventy-two hours without even a moment of sleep, he gave in.
The first step wouldn't be hard. After all, it wouldn't be the first time he'd visited Malik's soul room. Before Malik's bond with Rishid gained enough power to stop Mariku from emerging from his small pocket in their shared mind, Mariku had often visited the soul room of his other.
When he was first born, during the initiation ceremony, his senses were only vaguely established and his thoughts were incomplete. In this developing form, he was drawn to the source of his birth, the raging emotions Malik held inside. He found himself, a mere shadow, in Malik's soul room and watched as Malik tossed and turned on an old pallet in the center of the otherwise bare room that remarkably resembled his actual living quarters. Malik murmured over and over, "He should die... I want him to die... I want you to die, Father!"
Those words solidified Mariku's existence. Hatred poured into his being and he was given direction. He would kill their father; it was the perfect, most desirable course of action.
Still, it would be a long time before he could accomplish it. He kept visiting his creator and realized Malik didn't know about him. Mariku would lean over his bed and watch with amusement the tortured expressions flicker across Malik's face night after night.
Most of the time, Mariku stayed in his own room, though it wasn't a proper soul room since they shared a single soul. He didn't sleep, but he did drift towards unconsciousness, and during one of these periods, he felt uncharacteristic happiness surge through their mind, bringing him to attention. Everything looked so strange. Mariku realized they were outside, a place Malik had always dreamed of going before accepting with misery that he never could. Mariku didn't care for his daydreaming, but he loved the horrible feelings of entrapment that inevitably followed; they enlivened him. It seemed, however, that Malik's wish had come true. Mariku hissed and gritted his teeth and avoided looking through Malik's eyes at the disturbingly bright surface world. He remained in tight ball until apprehension replaced every shred of the joy Malik had been experiencing. He peered outward and saw Malik run through the halls of the tomb until he found Rishid, bound and bleeding on the floor.
"Malik-sama..." Rishid grunted out in that insufferable, raspy voice of his before succumbing to darkness. Mariku watched him collapse with glee and immediately began pressing against the walls of his and Malik's mind. It was that damn Rishid that kept him confined, with his tattoos that made him an ally of Malik, and now he was gone! Malik's hands flew to his head, as though holding it could hold his dark nature back. But Mariku, for the first time, was able to seize control of their body.
Killing their father was so easy.
But then, Rishid turned out to be alive, and with one glance Mariku lost control and Malik reemerged, confused.
Mariku was in a foul mood that night when he went to visit Malik.
"I can do everything better than you. I can do everything you dream of, here in this room. If you would just stay asleep, I could take care of everything. I could destroy everything..."
Malik's body shuddered below him on the pallet. "Father... Pharaoh..."
"Hmm, you don't even thank me before giving me my next task?" Mariku laughed and the sound echoed powerfully in the emptiness. "I suppose I'll still accept."
To his surprise, Malik's eyes opened. He never woke up during Mariku's visits. Sleepy violet eyes scanned the room before fixating on Mariku's face. "Am I... dreaming?" Mariku stood motionless as Malik got out of bed and stood before him: the original and the mirrored. With Malik's hair messy from lying down, it almost matched Mariku's natural wild style, and otherwise they were identical, even in dress.
There was, however, one hidden difference. When Malik asked, "Are you me?" Mariku smirked and turned, pulling the top of his robe down to reveal an unmarred back. "No, I am what you wish you could be."
That must have jolted Malik awake, for he disappeared from the soul room, and if he ever thought of the dream again, he must have dismissed the possibility that it had been more than a vivid nightmare.
So Mariku lived. Mariku waited. He once more took over their body and dueled against the Pharaoh that Malik, and therefore he, hated.
Mariku died-
-very nearly. Now he was back at the entrance to Malik's soul room, over five years later, and instead of feeding off the pain Malik exuded as he dreamed, he had to end it.
No, this was not how it was supposed to be at all.
His soul room had changed, Mariku discovered. It was no longer bare and dim with the walls of a tomb. In one corner was the motorcycle he'd cherished. In another, various reminders of his older siblings: a whistle Rishid had carved for him when he was young- his father had disposed of it, but here it was, recreated in Malik's mind- the necklace Malik had bought Ishizu as a gift, to replace the Millennium Tauk she'd grown so accustomed to wearing, and finally a large picture of the three of them. Malik was frowning in the picture, as if trying to figure out how a tiny black box was supposed to produce a lifelike image of them; Rishid was glancing at Malik to see what was wrong; and Ishizu alone was smiling at the camera. It was a terrible picture, really, but Malik clearly treasured it.
Half the room was still in darkness. Mariku could hear snakes slithering on stone and hissing loudly. The cracks of whips and what Mariku recognized as echoes of his own insane laughter joined the reptilian chorus.
In the center was a lavish bed, with silk sheets and embroidered pillow cases, all the fine things Malik had fallen in love with since leaving the tomb. The blanket was partially covering Malik and partially on the floor, and Malik's dark skin was shining with sweat.
Mariku perched beside him and glared down with distaste. The things he feared were long gone, mostly thanks to Mariku's intervention. There was no longer a father to abuse him and his siblings, and Malik's apartment was far-removed from snakes and claustrophobic darkness. And yet, he was unable to let go of the past, unable to feel at peace at night.
The dark was where Mariku thrived. He had no idea how to comfort his weak counterpart in his fear of it, and now that he was next to him the idea seemed more unappealing than ever. Malik had created him because he wasn't strong enough to cope with reality, and even now that his reality had drastically changed, it appeared he needed the strength of his dark side.
Exhaustion was seeping the last of Mariku's willpower to disappear from this soul room and return to his own mind. If these sleepless nights kept up, he'd become as pathetic as Malik. Tentatively, he raised a hand and brushed Malik's hair out of his face. He'd learned from watching television one day that some humans liked to be comforted by having their backs rubbed, but obviously that would do nothing beneficial for Malik, so Mariku kept stiffly stroking his hair. He tried to be gentle, but for him to be gentle would take a miracle, so he settled for not being violent. He slipped his fingers through the strands, petting Malik's head as he did so.
Malik's hair was soft like fresh snow and as Mariku kept running his fingers through it, he began to respond. His trembling ceased but his breathing remained shallow and erratic. Mariku removed his hand as the intensity of Malik's fear faded a degree, but it shot back up when the contact was gone. Mariku scowled, ripped the cover from the bed, and lay down beside Malik. He wrapped his arms around him and pulled his back against his chest. At first, Malik went rigid, and Mariku wondered if he was going to wake up. He really hoped he would not. Then, Malik relaxed in his hold, his breathing evened, and any lingering negative emotions were sucked into the dark part of the soul room.
Mariku lay still, uneager to undo his progress. Even through the fabric of their shirts, he realized he could feel Malik's many scars, the scars that were the reason Mariku existed. Malik despised his scars, and Mariku despised Malik, and now he was being forced to hold him when he should have been sleeping comfortably in his own bed.
"You're very needy, aren't you?" Mariku muttered, letting his head sink into a pastel-purple pillow. With his arms still wrapped around Malik, he closed his eyes and welcomed blissful darkness.
It was morning. Mariku sat up on the couch, groggy but more rested than he'd been in weeks. He must have fallen asleep in Malik's soul room and his consciousness instinctively returned to its proper body sometime during the night. Mariku had wondered if Malik would stay asleep if he left, but the fact that Mariku had slept through the night indicated that he had.
A few minutes later, Malik emerged from his bedroom, stifling a yawn. He noticed Mariku staring at him inquisitively and commented, "You seem to be in a better mood than usual this morning, though that doesn't mean much."
"I could say the same about you."
Malik nodded to acknowledge the truth of this statement. "I slept well last night. Better than I have in months, actually."
Mariku rose and headed for the kitchen, remarking offhandedly over his shoulder, "Sounds like you should thank the gods."
Not gonna lie... Some reviews would be great encouragement for me to continue updating. Especially since the only review I got since the last chapter was some sort of joke/spam/whatever.