Disclaimer: I own nothing. HA! Oh yes, I own Macbeth. I wrote it man. William Shakespeare has nothing on me ;)
... That was a joke, BTW... I didn't write it... -hides from the lawyers-
"Ugh. That was a load of fucking crap." Bakura moaned as soon as he had left the sun-streaked classroom, joining the thick flow of students that rushed down the grey-tiled hall. "And you do that four times a fucking week?"
"Sorry." Ryou murmured apologetically. "But I think it's so fascinating..." The white-haired man rolled his eyes, letting out a short sound of annoyance.
"And you like it too?" He inquired in Malik's direction, locking eyes with the sandy-haired teenager. "You were looking pretty bored in there."
"Oh, I was." Malik muttered dryly, slinging his book bag over his shoulder. "Trust me, Bakura, that class is a... A brain-numbing waste of valuable time." Bakura chuckled, and the Ryou only sighed, lightly shaking his head, stray hairs falling into his eyes. Bakura stared at the teenager for a few moments as he pushed them away, before regarding Malik keenly.
"Then why take it?" He frowned. "Why waste four hours a week in that that fucking stuffy hell-hole when you could be... I dunno. Doing something else, anyway." The Egyptian smiled weakly, and shrugged.
"Because." He sighed. "Ryou may be a total smarty-pants, but I'm not even close. The careers' advisor practically ordered me to take some class of 'academic merit.'" Malik rubbed at his forehead. "And anyway, it was good last semester... We had that bit on the history of theatre."
"Yeah..." Ryou murmured off-handedly, before looking down at his watch. Naturally large brown eyes widened. "Oh shoot! Come on Bakura, we have to go to Chemistry now..."
"Chemistry?" Bakura wrinkled his nose. "Isn't that... sciencey?" Ryou nodded, staring at the white-haired man intently.
"Yeah... Why?" He inquired in his naturally gentle voice. "Doesn't spark your interest?" Bakura snorted, before turning to Malik.
"What do you have?" He interrogated in a rather demanding tone, his forehead creasing slightly in a frown. Malik smiled, his stomach fluttering ever-so-slightly.
"Drama." He announced, fluffing his hair out from under his collar. Bakura's eyes lit up. "Why? Would you rather join me?" The man smirked, his eyes glinting, before he turned to the docile teenager on his left, resembling the most pleading look he could on his angular features.
"Pleaaaaasseeeee?" He wheedled childishly, cocking his head to one side, silvery head falling into his eyes. Ryou groaned, and slumped his shoulders, before inclining his head silently in a slight note. "Yes!" Bakura punched the air, before grabbing Malik's arm. "Let's go! Come on, I love drama and acting and shit. Are you doing a play? Which one? Is it one of those famous ones? It better not be old and stuffy..." Ryou hid a smile as Bakura began to drag Malik off. The Egyptian turned his head to look back at Ryou, a slightly despairing look on his face.
"See you on break!" He called out, waving weakly. Ryou forced a smile, and nodded, before turning away himself, his naturally rounded shoulders sagging further.
"Okay..." He murmured to himself, his heart slowly sinking as Bakura and his best friend left him. He slowly started to walk, jostled along by the throng of students, to his Chemistry class. Oh well. At least I get to sit next to Seto in this class. Ryou remembered how him and Jounouchi had broken up, and his heart skipped a beat, lightening considerably. Oh come on. Don't be like that, it doesn't really mean anything. They have fights all the time. They'll be together by the end of next week. It's just a pity that they're fighting now, what with the Dance on Saturday night and all... Ha, the dance. I wonder what Bakura would think if I took him along. Maybe I could persuade Malik to let Bakura ask him out. Although he should have technically been happy for the two teens, the thought made him a little sad. I'll be at home alone on a Saturday night again... He shook his head slightly, trying to get the thought out of his head as he approached the door to his Chemistry class. He turned the brass knob with deft, bony fingers, and pushed the door open, stepping inside the class.
Because his History class and his Chemistry class were so far apart, Ryou was always the last to class every second period on a Thursday, and this morning as no exception. However, his seat next to Seto was empty as usual, the brunette at his laptop with a focused expression on his face.
"Morning." Ryou forced a smile on his face as he sank into the grey plastic chair. Seto merely grunted, not looking up from the slimline grey laptop, his fingers clacking furiously on the keys. "Okay then..." He sighed, drumming his fingers on his stack of textbooks. "Ignore me."
"What?" Seto blinked, and finally shifted his gaze from the LCD screen to the teenager who sat next to him. "Oh. Hi." He tossed a quick nod in Ryou's direction, before returning to his computer. "Do the homework last night?" Ryou's eyes widened, and he swore, shaking his head.
"Crap, no." He gasped, momentarily closing his eyes. "I got sidetracked..." Seto smirked, still typing, eyes fixed on the screen.
"Copy it out of my book." The brunette muttered, allowing himself to roll his eyes for a moment. "The teacher's gone to sort out a fight in the halls... You must have just missed it."
"Must have." Ryou said gratefully, leafing through Seto's notebook, examining his neat, narrow handwriting, until he got to the back page, where the brunette's equations were perfectly written out, tidy and immaculate. "Thank you..."
"Whatever." Seto muttered, still at his keyboard. "Hell, Ryou you copy off me at least once a week..."
"I know..." Ryou winced as he quickly transferred the answers onto his own page, keeping an eye on the door. "I'm grateful, really."
"Uh-huh." Seto wasn't really listening as he continued to type. "Oh shit." Ryou jumped as the curse spilled from the taller teens' lips, accidentally marking his page.
"What?" He bit his lip, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he stared at the brunette, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks.
"The wireless is down again..." He groaned, slamming the lip of his laptop closed. "Man, this school is crap." Ryou hid a smile, and nodded obediently, still copying Seto's answers. "You done yet?"
"... Yep!" Ryou set his pen down, pushing the notebook back towards the brunette. "Thanks a lot Seto, I really appreciate it."
"Sure." Seto muttered, rubbing at his eyes. "Man, how can you not do your homework, Ryou? You never go out or anything..."
"I work." Ryou murmured defensively. "And I have... Other stuff." Especially on Friday's... Ryou's insides curled in disgust. Seto only shrugged, managing to shoot Ryou an odd glance before the teacher walked into the room, slamming the door behind him and straightening his clothes.
"What happened, sir?" Someone piped up from the front row, clearly interested. The man rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed.
"Freshmen were fighting." He muttered. "If there's one thing I can't stand, it's fighting in the halls. Now, everyone get out your books... Seto, put that computer away before I confiscate it."
"Yes, sir." Seto muttered dryly, sliding it into his case, before unzipping his pencil case. "God, he's in a bad mood today..."
"Oh no." Ryou made a face, biting his lip. I wonder how Bakura and Malik are going? "Aren't we assigned for science fair today?" Seto groaned, nodding. "Go with you?"
"Yeah." He muttered, starting to copy out the notes that the teacher was writing out. "I always do, don't I?"
"Well, no one else in the group takes Chemistry." Ryou reasoned, tightening his hand on his pen. It was a slightly disheartening thing to think, but Ryou knew it was true. Seto and Ryou weren't even that friendly outside of Chemistry or Physics, the only other subject they shared.
"Mmm..." Seto muttered boredly, his head in one hand as he wrote.
"Ryou, can you get the Hensmen books from the back of the room and hand them out, please?" The teacher called from the front of the room. Ryou sighed, but nodded, sliding out of his chair and slowly walking up to the back of the room. Looking for any distraction from his notes, Seto's eyes followed Ryou. After a few moments, the brunette blinked, staring at the whitenette.
Because he had failed to do any washing in such a long time, Ryou was forced to pull on his jeans that were too small for him that morning. Although the teenager occasionally still wore them, he usually coupled it with a long, baggy shirt, to try and hide his body. But that morning, Bakura had convinced Ryou to wear his new, tight sweater, which clung to his stomach, and was hiked up just a little bit, and as a result, Ryou's tight jeans, which came halfway over the jut of his hipbones, showed just an inch or so of his creamy white skin. Ryou was silent as he handed out the books, two per table, not noticing he had Seto's eye on him as he did so.
"Good." The teacher muttered as Ryou sat back down in his seat, picking up his pen, and starting to catch up on his notes. Seto shook his head, and followed suit.
"Malik! You're here! And- Oh my. Who is this?" The Egyptian smiled widely at his Drama teacher.
"This is Bakura." Malik announced, turning to the white-haired man. "He's just going to be with us for a week. Hey, that means you can watch the production!" Bakura blinked.
"Production-"
"Malik, there's not going to be a production." His teacher sighed dramatically. "I knew it was bad luck, I knew it... I could have gone with something safe, something a little less... Cursed." Malik only rolled his eyes.
"I don't get it..." Bakura blinked.
"Sir... Really." Malik's tone was clearly exasperated. "It's just a rumor..."
"What is?" Bakura almost stamped his foot. Malik chuckled, shaking his head.
"Well, every year, as part of the course, the drama has to perform a Shakespearian play." Bakura's eyes lit up. "And this year, we chose Macbeth-"
"Malik!"
"The play's not cursed, Sir!" Malik's hands were on his hops. "Get over it! Has anything back actually happened?"
"Yes!" The teacher retorted. "Gregory was in a car accident last night! He's broken both legs and his collarbone." Malik froze, and his eyes widened.
"Gregory?"
"Our Maduff." Malik paled. "Shit." For once, the Drama teacher didn't reprove Malik for swearing, wracked with the same fear. Bakura stared still, frowning slightly. Macbeth... Macbeth... I've seen it! I've seen it on stage when I was with that Peerage person way back when... And I've seen it since, I know I have. Lot's of times. Shakespeare's plays are one of the few things that have stayed the same over all these years. It was the one with the Scottish guy and the witches...
"Don't we have an understudy in case things like this happen?" Malik pleaded. "I thought Rhee and Gregory were friends-"
"They are." The teacher moaned. "He was in the car too... He fractured half of his ribs." Malik screwed his face up, groaning.
"Well, this is just peachy." Malik muttered under his breath. "Can't we bring in someone else? Or something?"
"Who else?" The teacher, dramatic at the best of times, due to his profession, appeared almost beside himself. "No one else around here performs Macbeth. They're smart and stick to Midsummer Nights' Dream or Romeo and Juliet... I just wanted to be different this year..."
"I know the lines." Bakura spoke up, his voice low and harsh. Malik and the teacher never paid heed to him, however, continuing to panic.
"Well... I can play Macduff..." Malik thought fast, wringing his hands. "I think I know all of his lines... But you'll have to find someone else to play Macbeth, and that's almost as bad..."
"I know the lines." Bakura repeated, his voice a little louder, gritting his teeth. Why aren't they listening to me? I can solve their fucking problem...
"No no, Malik, you're a fantastic Macbeth..." The teacher sighed. "That wouldn't be fair on you to change characters that quick... I could call up some of my old students... I did this play a few years ago, maybe some of then still live in the area..."
"I know the lines!" Bakura, agitated, stamped his foot. "Hello? I'm giving you a bloody out here!" The teacher slowly raised his head from his hands.
"Really?" He looked hopeful. "All of them?" Bakura shrugged, his hands in the pocket of his long black trench coat.
"I've been watching Shakespeare for a long time." Bakura muttered. "I've seen Macbeth lots. I'd need to like, read over the lines and shit, but I can do it if you want me to..." I would be having so much contact with Malik... I'd be with him all the time. How can I say no to that?
"Oh, my boy!" Bakura blinked as the man clapped his hands on his leather-clad shoulders, looking as though he were about to kiss him. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" Bakura stood stock still, in a state of confusion as the teacher ran down the aisles of seats, up to the stage, and into the wings. "All is not lost, children! We have found a Macduff! Oh this is fantastic!"
"Uh... Is he always so..." Bakura trailed off, casting his eyes to the ceiling as he tried to come up with a word for it.
"Exuberant?" Malik suggested, smiling. The white-haired man shrugged.
"I was going to say insane." Bakura muttered, shaking his head. "But that fits."
"He's a drama teacher." Malik explained, grabbing at his newfound friends' wrist, and starting to run down the aisles, like his teacher had just done. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the cast. You'll like them, I bet. Well, you better, you're gonna be seeing a lot of them over the next week... Do you know what you've gotten yourself into?" Malik paused, turning to look at Bakura. "Our teacher used to be a very famous stage actor, Bakura. And he made an even bigger name for himself as a director before retiring and working part-time here. People are gonna come from miles around to see this play. Our Drama class play is always even bigger than the school play, because it's actually worth marks and stuff..."
"So?" Bakura shrugged. "It's just a play. I go on, say my lines, and get off. No problem. I've got a great memory Malik, I'll be fine." Malik groaned.
"You're going to be performing in front of hundreds." Malik said warningly. "I've done this before, but have you?" Bakura only shrugged, before wrenching himself out of Malik's grasp, and slowly walking down the aisle. He tried to keep a cool, calm exterior, but inside, his stomach was fluttering with nerves. The whole concept of being with Malik was frighteningly new to him, after mourning his death for so long. How badly did he just want to grab Malik, push him against the wall, and roughly kiss him, long and deep? True love's kiss... But he knew that would never work. A witches curse would never work like that. It would have to be consensual. Malik would have to be in the same boat. Bakura could just see it in his minds eye... Ever since he'd realised the spell he was in, and what he was going to have to do to get out of it, Bakura had been running his kiss with Malik over and over in his head. How he was slowly going to seduce Malik, convince him to kiss him...
And he had to be in a straight mind-frame. Bakura mentally groaned. I only have week... I'm going to be cutting it so fine. He was terrified of the thought of losing Marik again, having his love pass him by, being returned to that cat form... No, Malik. Bakura reminded himself. Not Marik. That ship has sailed. But hey, Malik's still good. Better then good. Fucking fantastic. He has this whole different sort of hotness Marik didn't have... And he's young, too. Real young. We're going to have fun when I'm a demon-
That was when it hit him, like a brick in his chest. Bakura pulled up dead short in his walk, and he slowly, shakily sank into one of the auditorium chairs, holding his hands over his mouth. Oh God. I'm a demon... Well, going to be a demon...
But Malik's not. Bakura closed his eyes. He's just a human. He's gonna grow old and die...
I never thought of that. Bakura opened his eyes again, trying not to hyperventilate. No! If Malik dies, then that means he'll be reincarnated into someone else God knows when, and then he'll be even more watered-down than ever...
"Bakura?" The male jumped, staring up at Malik, who looked down at him with concern. "You okay?"
"Uh... Yeah." Bakura finally mumbled, swallowing weakly. He locked eyes with Malik for a moment, and then looked away again, his breath shaking slightly. "Just... I'll be fine." He muttered abruptly, and stood up, leaning slightly on the back of the chair in front of him. Malik frowned, still worried, but finally nodded, forcing a little smile.
"Come and meet everyone." He grabbed Bakura's wrist, and resumed his walk towards the stage. Inside, although he was worried about the fate of the play, the Egyptian was dancing and singing. He was excited, to say the least, to have this strange, eccentric and extremely... Alluring man with him. Something about Bakura sent off a little spark in Malik's chest, a tiny flame he hadn't experienced since... The blonde put the thought out of his head as he increased his pace. The man he was reluctantly dragging along behind him, however, felt as though he had been punched in the stomach. It just didn't seem fair. Why did Marik have to reincarnate into a mortal? There was a cold, hard fact in Bakura's mind, and it burned, like a brand that had been stamped upon his brain.
Even if everything goes to plan, I'm only going to have my Marik with me for a few years before he dies again.
Awwwh, much sadness XD
Oh well. R&R! Please!
