All You Could've Been
Rated: Eh... K+ maybe.
Warnings: Thiefshipping, minor language
Character(s): Yami Bakura and Marik Ishtar
Bakura pulls his hood over his fluffed white hair, hissing as the rain pelted his tender skin, drenching and freezing him effectively at the same time. Shoving his tongue between his teeth, he resisted the urge to turn back, knowing that no matter what, he had to do this.
Water soaked his sneakers, and drenched his pants-legs, but he couldn't really be bothered by that. He just continued walking, ignoring the rain and the squelching noises his soaked socks were making as they rubbed at the heel of his shoes.
Finally, he crested the hill, and was face with the full-frontal assault of the rain, feeling it lash angrily at him from his now higher perch. Grumbling, he fiddled with his hood, and stomped down the hill, slipping and sliding in the mud.
He passed several markers, but paid them no heed, not caring for these pathetic mortals. Those flowers meant nothing to him, because he knew they, too, would soon age and decay, just as the rotting corpses lying beneath his feet would do.
So, passing all of these, he finally reached the one stone he was looking for. Staring at the name engraved onto the stone, Bakura had to bite his lip to hold back any incriminating noises, since memories seemed to be pouring in...
"Bakura..." a nasally voice interrupted Bakura's sleep. Growling, he rolled over, feeling the covers shift against his skin as he situated himself to be able to look at the bed across from his. Marik had insisted that he and Bakura have separate beds; something about it being improper for two friends to share a bed.
"What is it, you insufferable fool?" Bakura snarled, lips twisting upwards into a sneer as he revealed his sharp canines. It was all in good fun though, and he knew that Marik was tough enough to take his insults, and even laugh at them.
"Bakura... What do you think of me?" Marik questioned, voice small and quiet. Bakura blinked, clearly startled at this turn of events. He had expected the blonde to command him to fetch a sandwich or something but...
"You're a pathetic mortal, and that's all you'll ever be. You'll die, and I'll live. However," Bakura interrupted, sniffing and turning his nose up as he pushed hair from his burning, scarlet eyes, "while you're still alive, you should feel grateful that someone as great as me is gracing you with their presence. Now good-night!"
With that harsh, final sentence, Bakura rolled over, tugging the covers around his shoulders and glaring angrily at nothing in general. He heard Marik make a small noise, and Bakura clenched his eyes shut.
He hadn't wanted to say that but... It was true enough. Marik was a human, and they all died eventually. Bakura didn't want to be hurt that way. So he would keep Marik as a friend... A friend that he knew was waiting in line for death.
Bakura snorted as he stared down at the tomb-stone, anger welling up in his eyes.
"Stupid bastard, I told you you'd die," Bakura spat harshly, crossing his arms over his wet jacket, and pressing it into his shirt, effectively chilling his chest. He ignored the cold coursing through his body, and instead kicked angrily at the tombstone, cracking it up the middle.
Wincing, he gripped his foot, mouth wrenching open into a snarl again.
"You... You disgusting fucker! How could you!-? You couldn't even give me eighty years you... You... DAMMIT!" Bakura yowled, hood falling back and releasing his mane of white hair to the pelting of the rain.
"Bakura... Ishizu wants me to go home with her... To Egypt," Marik informed his friend. Bakura's head immediately snapped around, the dread in his eyes diminishing any hopes he had of playing this off.
"Why.. What for?-!" Bakura demanded, rising up from the couch and stomping over to the blonde. Marik grimaced at their close proximity, but offered a shrug.
"She just wants me around."
"Marik, you're twenty-eight years old, you don't-"
"Actually, that's my line of thought exactly," Marik interrupted, a cold, hard look coming into his eyes. "Bakura, I'm twenty-eight! I've waited twelve years for this," Marik waved a tanned hand savagely between the two glaring men, "whatever it is, to go somewhere!"
Bakura averted his eyes, allowing them to narrow as he stared angrily at a sculpture that Marik had bought a few years back. It was a man with the head of a cat, wearing clothes and jewels befitting the Pharaoh. Marik had claimed it reminded him of Bakura. Then they'd fought, rolling on the floor, laughing and breathless.
Bakura remembered that Marik had even grown close to kissing him, but the Spirit had disrupted that attempt, and Marik had quickly left it at that. Letting out a hiss of exasperation, Bakura turned back to Marik.
"You can't be happy with friendship? How like you stupid mortals. You just want more, more and more!" Bakura crossed his arms over his chest, thinking he had ended this conversation. Marik, however, seemed angrier then before.
"Mortal!" Marik shrieked. "Mortal! Mortal! Mortal! That's all you ever say! You were human once to, Akefia Bakura! And is that all I am to you? A stupid mortal?" Marik's face was scrunched up from the effort of yelling, and Bakura could see something glistening around the rims of Marik's eyes.
Steeling himself and gritting his teeth, Bakura answered:
"Yes."
The Egyptian froze before him, and a sad, desolate look crossed over his face. Bakura opened his mouth, possibly to question what was wrong, but Marik stepped past him, moving towards the bedroom.
"I leave tomorrow."
And Bakura didn't stop him.
Bakura knelt down next to the grave, supposing that if he was still Akefia Bakura, he would've broken down and cried. But he wasn't. He was Yami No Bakura, a person crafted of death and anger; embodiment of the shadows themselves.
Marik never seemed to grasp that, even now, when his dead body lay beneath Bakura's feet. Leaning forward, Bakura stroked the cracked tomb-stone, wondering how differently things could've gone if he had kissed Marik that day. Or if he had told the blonde how much he meant to him.
But he'd done none of those things.
Clenching his eyes tight, Bakura remembered when he'd heard that Marik's plane had crashed. He remembered the nightmares that had plagued his mind, as he wondered how Marik's face had twisted, how his burnt flesh looked as it simmered away from his skull, leaving him clean as they crashed into the land.
Letting out a breathy rattle, he couldn't help but feel relieved that Ishizu and Odion had died too. Seeing them... Wouldn't have helped his current frustration. Not to mention, it allowed Bakura to choose where Marik would be buried.
And he'd chosen hear. This graveyard where so long ago he'd defeated Bonz for Marik, obtaining he cards. With a savage grin, Bakura continued petting the tombstone, remembering everything... Everything that was Marik.
Everything he could've been to Marik.
And everything that he wasn't.
Gulping, Bakura rose to his feet, extracting something from his pack-pocket.
"I don't know why I'm doing this for you," Bakura croaked, voice scratching the inside of his throat, "when you couldn't even give me more then twelve years to see your face. To hear your voice. To... Know you.
"Stupid human," Bakura interrupted himself, snarling angrily. "But either way. Yugi was out on a date with pretty little Anzu, and Yami was missing so... I ... Stole this for you. To take with you, since I know how much you loved it."
With that, Bakura lifted the golden shaft clasped in his hand; the Millennium Rod. Marik had truly loved this thing, before Yugi had obtained it, and Bakura figured it was only fair that he had it in his after-life, possibly to fight away the shadows of his sins. His sin for loving the shadows themselves.
"Good-bye, Marik," Bakura muttered, stabbing the Millennium Rod into the ground.
Then he left, never looking back, and never visiting again.
-(-o-)-
I usually hate sad Thiefshipping, because there's just SO. MUCH. But...
... I wanted to write something sad... I have no idea why, though. xD And holy crap, I just now found out, that Marik was sixteen back in the nineties; he's older then my mom (current day)! He'd be in his thirties, round-a-bout. o.O