Reading my reviews, I suppose that I should have made this more clear… It's not that Bakura truly believes that Malik was lying, it's more that he doesn't want to believe that he's telling the truth. In the back of his mind, Bakura knew that eventually, Mariku would have sex with Malik, and that is one thought that he could not handle. In Bakura's mind, sex is a major part of their relationship, and if Mariku loved him, why would he do it with anyone else? It would be the ultimate betrayal. Angry at the fact that he is no longer the main center in Mariku's mind and love, he takes it out on Malik, as much as he can. Without Mariku, Bakura truly has nothing. And…it's much easier to take it out on the cause of why Mariku no longer loves him as he used to (Malik) than Mariku, himself. Just thought I should clear some things up. And ohmigod, an update in a week!? Blasphemy!
--
"This is it?" Bakura looked over at him, eyebrows raised in a sarcastic manner as he questioned as to why he had chosen this restaurant, of all places, instead of something nicer.
Mariku shrugged. "I thought it would be nice if we just went some place normal. I don't really feel like spending a lot of money today."
Bakura scoffed, looking a little annoyed, and frowned at him, opening the door and gestured for him to enter first. "Your majesty…" He gave a fake bow, and Mariku laughed. When he wanted to be, Bakura could be good company. Walking through the door, Mariku opened the next one, and bowed the same way to Bakura.
"Your highness…" Bakura merely looked down at him when he passed, as if he had made an idiot of himself.
"Next time, I expect a red carpet."
Mariku often took Bakura out to eat, happy to spend money on him and to be around him. Bakura wasn't home often, and the times he was, he took advantage of the fact. They would eat out at expensive, nice restraunts, their lifestyle allowing it, and Bakura made up for the money they spent once they got back home. It was a fun thing to do, something to look forward to, and it gave their relationship renewed life. With all of the fighting they had been doing recently, Mariku was surprised when Bakura asked to go out again, not expecting him to want to be around him much. Happy to appease him and hopeful that Bakura was getting over himself, Mariku had agreed. But he had been spending so much money lately, and he didn't really feel that he should use up what he had saved for dinner tonight. Because all of his finances were being used up for something much more meaningful and fulfilling. On his Malik.
Every couple of days, he would send him money and a letter, and it was starting to affect his credit. Of course, not drastically, but out of his spending money. He gave himself limits, not to use up or waste any of his inheritance, so he set away a couple hundred dollars for himself every month, which included taking Bakura out and spending money on him. But… Malik needed the money much more than Mariku or Bakura did, and Mariku couldn't be happier to be his benefactor. He knew that Malik appreciated the money, that it was slowly bringing their family out of debt, and the he, deep down, loved him for it, even if he didn't know who he was.
Not wanting to spend a lot of money, the place that he had chosen to take Bakura to was, in a sense, very lack luster. It wasn't bad: fast food, or anything like that, but it wasn't the nicest place to go to. It was just very… common. A regular restraunt that everybody and their family went to. Bakura deserved so much more than that… But Malik deserved his money more. Mariku had made his decision.
"Can I help you?" Having walked to the front desk, Mariku waited for a waitress to seat them, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Bakura scrutinized the restaurant. A short brunette girl had smiled at them, holding a couple of menus in her hand as she waited for his answer.
"A table for two?" She moved over behind the counter and checked off a place on a map of the ground floor of the restaurant, finding a table available. Writing something down on the side of the paper, she glanced up at them and smiled. Mariku could feel Bakura shift beside him. He was never really fond of strangers.
"Follow me."
Leading them to the table, Mariku stopped her when she set the menus down, and she looked up questioningly at him.
"Actually, can we have a seat over there?" Mariku gestured with his hand to a booth seat near the corner of the room, and she nodded, picking the menus back up, looking the smallest bit annoyed. She would most likely have to go back and change whatever she had written on that paper.
Handing them both menus when they sat down at their new table, she asked for what they would like to drink, and Mariku's eyes flicked up to Bakura, who was currently ignoring her.
"I'd just like water." Taking out her note pad, she nodded, and looked over at Bakura, who was staring out the window. Mariku kicked him a little under the table when he did not reply, and scowled when he was forced to converse with her.
"God, just give me a beer." Looking a little oddly at him, she wrote the order down and left, saying that she would give them time to order.
"Did you have to do that?" Mariku frowned, whispering softly.
"What?" Bakura scowled again, and folded his arms, trying to be as stubborn as possible.
Mariku sighed. "Nothing…" He didn't want to get in a fight, especially now, when it looked like things were turning around. If Bakura wanted to be rude and act like he was immature and crude, then fine. So be it.
Opening the menu, Bakura did the same, and it was quiet, the only noise being the conversation of the people in the booth in front of them.
"How have your grades been in school?"
"They're good. You don't really need to ask, you know."
"We know, it's just that we like to check up on you. I'm usually away at work, and your sister's busy with her own."
"Sorry, it's just that…I've been a little nervous lately."
"Why, what's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just someone. …Whatever. I don't want to make you worry. It's nothing."
"What are you looking at?" Bakura glanced up at him, and Mariku shook his head, feeling a little dazed."…Nothing." Frowning, Bakura narrowed his eyes at him. Turning around, he looked at the table behind him, trying to find what he had been staring at.
"You looking at that kid?" His voice was low, and he leaned himself down onto the table, head propped up by his arms.
"No, why?" Mariku gulped, and his eyes flicked up again.
"Well, I mean, what else would you be looking at?" A suspicious look on his face, Bakura straightened up and lifted his menu up and pointed to something on it. "I'm getting this. Hurry up and order so I can eat. I'm fucking starving." His quiet voice gone, Bakura went back to being demanding and loud.
A couple minutes, and the waitress returned, asking what they would like, and gave their orders. Having time to spend until their food came, Mariku asked Bakura what he had been doing lately, not surprised with the answer he got. The atmosphere starting out tense, Mariku felt guilty for not spending more time with the other man. Yes, it was true that he wasn't home often, but… he could try and make more of an effort to see him. But the more time that went by, the mood that had settled over their table had let up, and Bakura began to talk more. He had never been much of a conversationalist, and what he did say was either crude or an insult. At least he hadn't been as dominating lately… Not as if Mariku didn't enjoy it…
"Bourbon Street Steak, with sautéed mushrooms, and Parmesan Tilapia." They looked up when the waitress returned, carrying with her a tray of what they had ordered. Setting the food down in front of them, Mariku smiled at her and looked over at Bakura, who had his eyes on his food. "Do you need anything else?" Mariku was left to answer her, as Bakura outright wouldn't. "Okay, just call me if you need anything else."
Opening his mouth to continue the conversation they had been having after the waitress left, Mariku wasn't surprised when he found Bakura to already be eating. Since he was never really inclined to talking, and was 'fucking starving,' Mariku shrugged it off and looked down at his old food, picking up his fork, and taking a bite. It was good, for a lackluster restaurant, and Mariku was content.
The rest of the meal was spent in silence, only a couple words between them exchanged, and Mariku wondered vaguely if Bakura would be rough that night (even if Bakura didn't like his restaurant choice, he would still take him home and be dominating like usual). Nothing to listen to other than the sound of the British man's chewing, Mariku concentrated on the family in the booth in front of him, scooting over just a little so he could watch the boy sitting down across from him eat.
"Are you okay? You've barely touched your food."
"No, really, I'm fine. Why do you keep asking stuff like that? I'm just not that hungry tonight."
The other person laughed. "Not hungry? When are you ever not hungry?"
The woman laughed too. "Yes, I can't remember a time that you didn't eat everything on your plate. You aren't sick are you?"
"Yeah, because I'm just coughing it up, can't you tell?"
Mariku was jealous of the way that they could be so happy and talk to each other, jealous of the woman and man as the boy smiled at them, and jealous that they were talking, and Bakura was not. Feeling angry, Mariku hid his anger by jabbing his fork down a little too hard into his food. Not repressing the feeling well enough, he scowled outwardly.
"What's your problem?" Bakura looked up at him, food still in his mouth, and Mariku scowled more. He could at least swallow before talking!
"Nothing." He was in a bad mood now.
"The last time I heard that, you went bitchy on me for a week. Are you going to tell me what you're all pissed about, or am I going to have to get it out of you a different way?" Bakura grinned deviously at him, and he could feel his foot press up against his leg under the table.
"I told, you it's nothing! God, just drop it." He really didn't want to deal with Bakura's taunts right now, and it only made him upset when the foot that was touching him was Bakura's, and not someone else's…
"Are you telling me what to do?" Bakura's foot stopped, and his voice was dangerously low, eyes glinting with an odd red color from the light that was above their table. Mariku gulped.
"No." Bakura was the one in charge, the one in control, and Mariku could not tell him what to do. It was one of their rules, along with many others.
"Good." Sitting back up straight, Bakura pushed his plate away from him, signaling that he was done, but that domineering look was still in his eyes, and Mariku wondered when he last saw it. "Get that waitress over here. We're going home now." Taking another fleeting glance behind Bakura to the boy sitting across from him, Mariku's eyes slowly traveled back to the aisle, waiting for her to show up. When she finally did, Mariku paid with cash when she gave them the bill. Bakura wouldn't be happy if he had to wait and use his credit card.
Bakura looked pleased at him, and stood up, putting the coat he had taken with him back on. Doing the same, Mariku's heart stopped when that boy's eyes flicked up to meet his own. They stared at each other for what Mariku saw as an infinity. One glorious, beautiful infinity. The boy looked at him like he was remembering something, knew who he was, and a tiny flicker of fear could be seen before it was crushed, finally breaking their gaze as his family asked what was wrong. Like he had seen a ghost…
"Nothing, I just thought that I saw something…"
Bakura taking his arm, Mariku looked back at that table when he dragged him out of the restaurant. That one second was everything that he had wanted, the reason that he had chosen this place to eat out of all others. Mariku would give anything to have Malik look at him.
--
It had been one day. One day since Malik had felt happiness, and already, he was hungry. He had not seen Mariku much, only when he came to take away his books and the other little possessions that he had given him. And he had been tired, too. Ever since his return, Malik had felt fatigue. Had his escape took that much out of him? Malik had never been physically weak, and wondered faintly why he was so… so… tired. But he just felt drained, emotionally, mentally, and physically. Moving was hard, his legs weak, and his head swirled and ached when he stood. Too tired to set his mind to standing and dealing with the consequences, Malik sat perfectly still in his corner, only leaving to use the bathroom or get a drink when he absolutely had too.
The carpet felt cool against his skin as Malik laid in the corner, staring blankly up at the white ceiling, watching sunlight come and go through the clouds. He felt hot, and his forehead burned, making him faintly wonder if he was sick, but didn't dwell on it much. Even thinking took energy, something that he did not have at the moment. Everything was hazy around the edges, as if he couldn't think straight, and so he stared straight above him at the ceiling, figures coming out of the patterns on it. His eyes slowly traveling over to the window, Malik contemplated opening it, anything to make him even a fraction less hot, but never summoned the will to actually open it.
Malik sighed, rolling onto his side and leaned his forehead against the cool floor. He didn't think of anything. Not his family, not Mariku, not his friends, the only thing being the depression resting in the back of his mind, and how it would resurface when his mind drifted to his failed attempt to escape. He felt so tired… but he could not sleep. The ground was too hard, and everything was uncomfortable. His head hurt, he knew that, and he felt very hot. Whimpering unhappily, Malik moved to rest his arms underneath his head, a substitute for a pillow. Using his bed was out of the question. There were too many bad memories of beds in this house… Malik didn't want to remind himself of why he was still here.
Lowering his eyes half way, Malik sighed again, and tried a more comfortable position on his side, facing the doorway. That door… it was his only escape, the only entrance or exit from his hell. The window did not count. He wouldn't be able to jump, and live, anyway… Stomach rumbling, Malik groaned, turning his head so that all he could see was the soft blue carpet. He was so hungry… he hadn't eaten in three days. This was the second day of his 'punishment', and he hadn't eaten the day of his escape, that slapping only a prolonged torture until he would be fed again. But it was his fault, he supposed. His fault for becoming used to eating so much, and so often. The idea that he had become dependant on the food Mariku gave him was sickening. Or maybe, that was just what his stomach was telling him now…
A wave of nausea washing over him when he, once again!, tried to move into a more comfortable position, Malik gagged, repressing the urge to throw up. His body's instincts disgusted him, even if it helped him in the long run. He felt so weak… and he hated it, so, so much. Never had Malik been so helpless as he was now, and had been since he had forced to stay here. Every day he struggled with… something, whether it be depression, Mariku's continuing touches and love, or, now, sickness. Too tired to even reflect on his life, Malik closed his eyes, not wanting to think anymore. It just made everything worse.
As the day went on, the sicker Malik got, and the more his head hurt. Everything ached and was hot, burning up as he scooted closer to the wall, pressing himself close next to it, loving the way the freezing temperature leaked in a little to where he stayed now. Thoughts and feelings slurring together, Malik's world consisted only of his sick, aching stomach and the scratchy carpet beneath him, his only want being to make the horrible heat go away.
At some point, Malik saw the door open, and simply closed his eyes when Mariku walked in, closing it softly behind him. He was too tired and miserable to defend himself… Remembering faintly that he was still in his 'punishment', Malik struggled to open his eyes, watching Mariku's fuzzy outline cross the room to kneel in front of him, not knowing what he would do, or try to do to him in a state of such weakness. Whimpering when Mariku reached out to stroke the side of his face, Malik sighed when his hand moved to rest on top of his forehead, his palm cool. It felt nice… Malik wondered vaguely how he would have reacted if he had been told earlier that he found pleasure in Mariku's sickening touch, but it was gone quickly from his mind. He could think nothing else than of his sickness and what revolved around it, and now, Mariku's cool hand was making it better.
"Why did you have to make yourself sick, Habibi?" Or at least, that's what he thought he said when Mariku spoke to him. He couldn't really be sure, everything just seemed to slur together… But instead of saying it with a chastising and cruel manner as he had expected, Mariku smiled down at him, speaking softly in the manner he often referred to as loving. Malik did not reply, not having the strength left even for such a simple thing. "Stay still, okay? I'm going to go get a thermometer." And he smiled again, rising to leave.
It took entirely too short of time for Mariku to come back, and lifted his eyes again when Mariku tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, thinking that he must have fallen asleep for that short period of time. Mariku held a thermometer in his hands and took off the clear plastic cover around it, pressing a button it before looking back down at Malik, who had closed his eyes once again, concentrating on just breathing and trying not to become scared with Mariku so close to him.
"Open your mouth." Malik frowned, furrowing his eyebrows, not understanding what Mariku meant, and not liking what he had asked him to do. "Come on, my Malik. I just want to see how sick you are." Mariku's hand finding it's way back into his hair, Malik complied, parting his lips slightly, but not too much.
Mariku set the thermometer underneath his tongue, and Malik was disgusted with how he was treating him like a child, helpless to do anything for himself. Letting his eyes drift closed again, Malik waited for it to beep and show him that he didn't need anyone taking care of him, let alone his tormenter. When it did finally beep, Mariku took the plastic appliance out of his mouth, making Malik sigh in relief at it's absence. Mariku looked at it briefly before leaving again, for what, Malik did not know.
-
Again, he was awoken from his haze of sleep by Mariku's touch, and was disappointed when he was returned to the real world and the sickness and depression that came with it. Mariku smiled when he opened his eyes, and moved his hand out of his hair to trail along his jaw, rubbing his thumb where he stopped. Leaning in close to him, Mariku whispered something that he could not make out, and shivered at their close proximity and the way that his breath ghosted over the tip of his ear.
Giving him no warning other than another ambiguous whisper, Mariku gently rolled him away from the wall, bending his legs so that he could put his arm underneath them. Using the other to support his head and back, Mariku lifted him up with a little effort, and Malik could vaguely hear his mind yelling at him to 'get away' and to be terrified, because this was the man who had done everything to him. Meaning to try and struggle out of his hold and to have his feet touch the floor, all Malik managed to do was shift a little and moan when he did so, the feeling not settling well with his stomach. Mariku shushed him, moving his arm a little to hold him better, and slowly crossed the floor, carrying him to his bed on the opposite side of the room. Scared of falling, Malik subconsciously drew closer to him, something that he could not help but do, but hated himself for it anyway. Scared when Mariku set him down on the bed, he tried to sit up, but Mariku pushed him back down, extirpating any strength he might have had.
Becoming panicky, Malik tried to roll away from him to the other side of the bed, but Mariku stopped him easily. Even through the heavy haze of heat and nausea, Malik knew that he should not be anywhere near his captor, especially not in such a weak state of being. Being in bed and having him so close-…he'd rather be touched. Dragging the back of his hand across his forehead, Mariku frowned lightly and sat down next to his side, leaning over him slightly to brush a clump of his bangs out of his face. Malik's breath was heavy and hot when his hands moved down lower, and with muted horror, he watched as he lifted the bottom of his shirt up. Trying again to get away, that horrible pit of fear that resided in him beginning to act up again, Malik whimpered and squirmed, kicking his leg slightly to the left, as if he could save himself… But as was becoming customary, Mariku only stifled the physical attempts to portray his fear and shushed him again, like a child. Returning to his shirt, Mariku slowly pushed it up his torso, and Malik's breath caught in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut, nausea working it's way up his stomach as Mariku's hands ran across the flat expanses of his abdomen.
He was brought back suddenly to the reality of what was happening when Mariku did this, and Malik was bombarded with the sickening remembrance of his night of hell, which he tried so hard to forget… Mariku's hands were now something else. They were the reminder of how he had raped him, with those same hands… they had done so much to him, and now they were back. Touching him, they moved over his skin, feeling him, touching him. And their skin connected. Malik couldn't think of a feeling worse than human contact, not anything. Not fear, or depression, or loneliness, or hatred. And his fear only mounted when Mariku's hands moved to his chest, pushing his shirt as far as it could go.
"Can you move your arms for me, Habibi?" Mariku spoke gently, like he thought that if his voice was too loud, it would hurt him. "I need to take your shirt off. It will make you more cool." He smiled softly down at him, and Malik only looked away. It hurt to move… but he just didn't care anymore. What was the point of fear, of his sadness? Nothing came of it, Mariku would always touch him in the end, anyways… there was no point in resisting. He had been beaten.
But he must not have been quick enough in Mariku's eyes, because he reached out to move his arms up near his head, making it awkward when he gently slid his shirt over his head, which required him to lift him up a little. It was not the first time that he had been exposed under Mariku's view, but it didn't matter, and those little butterflies of fear began to flutter in his stomach, feeling naked, helpless, pathetic. And hungry. Malik remembered that he was hungry. Smiling down at him again, Mariku folded his shirt and set it down near the edge of the bed after moving off of it to stand up again. Shivering a little from the cold air that hit his skin after his shirt was taken from him, Malik turned to his side, covering his eyes with his hand. Mariku seemed to notice this, because he felt him pull the blankets up around him afterwards, and Malik no longer felt as naked. He hated this, being treated like a sick child… but he was too tired to fight back. And it did feel better to lie on bed than on the floor… even with the memories that it renewed.
Closing his eyes, Malik continued to focus on breathing, feeling a little better and less hot, even though his forehead still burned and his breath was heavy. It was strange, how he could take comfort in what his tormentor provided, the cause of why he would need them, but the thought was quickly gone from his mind, like everything that he would think about now. It just… didn't matter. He couldn't concentrate on thinking, just the feeling of being cool, and how his stomach was quiet for the time being. But faintly, he wondered when Mariku had gone, and when he would come back, the room being oddly quiet. Having nothing left to worry about, only the feeling of apprehension in the back of his mind, Malik took the opportunity of a quiet room, and fell asleep.
-
Mind lethargic from sleep and his body's recovery, Malik only faintly noticed it when Mariku came back. His hand was there, and it brought something cold and wet with it, a washcloth with ice inside, and he set it on his head. The relief was instant, and Malik sighed at the feeling, no longer as hot. But everything came with a price, and Mariku's hand did not leave, only continued to stay long after he had given him his temporary panacea. Mariku did not stand anymore, but had brought a chair with him, and his body was close as he slowly stroked the side of his face. His fingers drifted down past his cheek, lingering on his chin, where they would move back up to his temple, the cycle repeating itself so long that Malik lost track of when he had first felt the fear of his touch. Trying to open his eyes and look to the side of him, Malik gave up when his eye lids refused to move, only his eyebrows furrowing when Mariku's hand stopped, cupping his cheek. He heard Mariku sigh, and he rubbed his hand where it had stopped, Malik's mind telling him to wake up and get away, the voice easily ignored.
"Malik…" Mariku's voice was soft, still, and Malik knew that he thought that he was still left in repose. He would not give himself away, even if it was half true. "I love you, Malik. I know that you love me, too, I do, it's just that… god." He exhaled sharply, hand moving at an odd angle with his breath. "I'm waiting for you, can't you see? One day you'll realize it, and we can be happy, forever, and I can love you, forever. I wish you could realize this sooner. Oh, Malik… I love you so much. How many times have I told you? A hundred? A thousand? But it's okay, I could say it forever. I love you, Malik, I love you. Don't make me wait long, please. I don't think I can hold it out much longer… Don't make me do something that I will regret." And Mariku's hand fell away, Malik internally sighing in relief, his mind half awake. But relief was short lived as he felt him leave that chair and move to sit next to him on the bed.
He could hear Mariku breathing as he moved over him, hands on either side of his head, making Malik feel claustrophobic, in the very least. He didn't like this, he didn't like this, he was scared, scared, scared! But Malik couldn't will himself to wake up completely. His mind was keeping him in suspended animation, forced to endure terror while his body slowly recovered. Mariku's face was close, inches from his own, and he could now feel his breath as well, so close to him. But Mariku did not do anything, he only sat there halfway over him as he looked down at him. Malik didn't like it, didn't like the way he was so close, the way that he watched him so intently, the words he had said, and the horrible realization that… even though he had been raped, it was only the beginning, and it could get much, much worse. Every second that went by added to his mounting fear, that horrible, ever present fear that was becoming so accustomed that he couldn't remember a day that he had not felt it.
Everything was give and take. Mariku had graced him with the washcloth, taken away the heat, and allowed him to move to the bed, but the 'take' overwhelmed the 'give' so much more, and the equivalency was overbalanced. All he had done was take. He had taken his life, his family, his friends, his possessions, his freedom, the remainder of his virginity, his food, and now, he took the feeling of security from him, or at least, the little bit of it that was left. Their faces close, Mariku's lips brushed his own, soft, tentative, and he kissed him slowly and deliberately. H-he was scared. He was so vulnerable, weak, and he couldn't do anything to stop him if… if… Mariku decided to…- Malik was scared. But he had been blessed, and Mariku moved away quicker than he had expected, the feeling of his lips still lingering.
Time passed slowly, after that, and he felt Mariku gently move off of the bed and away from him, to sit in the chair by his side. With his absence, Malik's fear left as well, and he was grateful for it's departure. Having not noticed Mariku take the washcloth from him, he felt him set it back down onto his forehead, once again cold when the ice had melted. A tiny bit more comfortable, Malik's subconscious won the battle in his head, and Malik fell back to sleep, listening to Mariku's soft proclamations of love.
-
"Here, take this."
Malik slept fitfully, and he woke up many times, always feeling hot and sick. And Mariku was always with him when he did. He would check his temperature and fix the covers around him, touching his face to feel if he was as hot, and Malik endured it. Strength gone, he let Mariku touch him, because he was so tired… He had thrown up, once, and felt immediately relieved afterwards. It was as if he was being purged, of sickness, his fear, and the disgusting feeling of Mariku's touch. But the feeling of despair and hopelessness still remained, long after his tormentor had taken away what he had gotten sick in. His family was gone, he would never see them again… Faintly, in the back of his mind, he remembered when Mariku had told him that he would come to depend on him, and he was right. Mariku was his everything, now. He was his food, his clothes, his bed, his caretaker, and the source of his pain, his world. Without him, he had nothing, no one to take care of him. …Did he… really think that? Or maybe, Malik was just too sick to think straight…
Mariku leaned over in his chair and held out his hand, two pills resting in his palm. Moaning softly, Malik rubbed his eyes with his hand, trying to wake up, not wanting to sleep any longer. Sitting up straight so that his back rested against the headboard, Malik's head spun, feeling dizzy, and he moaned again, clutching his head. Mariku looked at him worriedly, and moved to run his hand down his back when Malik bent forward slightly. Looking up at him sharply, Malik's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to convey the terror and revulsion at having Mariku touch his bare back. Mariku's hand left him.
His breath still heavy and hot, Malik watched as Mariku once again offered the medicine to him, but refused it, not wanting to take anything he gave to him.
"Habibi, it will make you better. It's just Tylenol…" Mariku smiled, keeping his voice soft as he continued to persuade him to take the medicine. Eventually, Malik complied, and held out his hand. Mariku looked please and handed him the pills, closing his hand around them, and looked at him a while until Malik jerked his hand out of his grasp.
Handing him a cup of water, Malik took it eagerly from his hands, placed the pills on his tongue, and quickly took his first gulp, feeling them go down his throat. His mouth tasted disgusting, making the water have a distinct metallic tang to it, but he drank deeply, the water feeling good and cool in his stomach. He didn't remember being so thirsty… Malik coughed a little bit when Mariku lowered the cup from his mouth, sputtering when it was gone, and reached back for it, but Mariku only held it farther away. He didn't understand… why couldn't he have water? It was… only food that he was banned from having. He couldn't take away his water, too, could he?
"If you drink too fast, you'll make yourself sick again. Your stomach is empty, and if you swallow too much too fast, it'll upset it. Drink it slowly, Malik. I can always get you more." Mariku chided him, making sure that he was listening, and once he was sure that he was, he handed Malik back the cup, which he took back quickly.
But it wasn't that easy, and Mariku's hand refused to leave the glass of water, making Malik confused and uneasy. He tried jerking his hand away a little bit, to get him off of it, but Mariku would not let go, and Malik sighed dejectedly. Nothing ever went right… Understanding what Mariku wanted, Malik pursed his lips, refusing to move. He would not humiliate himself for such a small gain, and the cup sat still in their hands.
"Aren't you thirsty, Malik? You were so eager to get it back. Drink." He looked down at the cup, the clear water taunting him. He was still so hot and thirsty…
A little shakily, he raised it to his lips, letting the rim rest on them a little, but not yet drinking. Debating on whether or not he should drink, Mariku made the choice for him, and gently tipped the cup up the little bit he needed to taste water once again. Face burning in humiliation, Malik let Mariku hold the cup for him as he drank, not knowing if the water and everything it brought was worth the embarrassment and degradation. Lowering it from his lips, Mariku let Malik breathe as he smiled at him. Malik closed his eyes, the water not settling well within his empty stomach, and looked back over at Mariku after a while. He hadn't talked to him since-… Malik felt sick again.
"M-Mariku…" Malik's voice was raspy, having not used it for a couple of days. He coughed and tested his voice again, finding it better, and spoke again. "Mariku, how-…" What did he want to say, what could he say? Terror, depression…Mariku had caused all of these things. Mariku had touched him in a place that was only his, he had touched him, everywhere, and he had not stopped. He had not stopped when he begged him to take pity on him, when he had cried and cried for him to make him stop reliving his nightmare. What Mariku had done… there would never be anything worse than what he had done to him. It was the quintessence of his phobia, the one thing that he could never forgive, that he could never forget. Malik didn't know what to say. "I'm hungry." Giving up on trying to portray the emotions that were eating out at his heart, Malik looked dejectedly down at his lap. It was all Mariku's fault.
Mariku frowned, looking a little upset when he said this, and sat up straighter in his chair, eyes never leaving his own. "I know you are, Malik." He never gave him an answer, just shot agreements back at him, as if he was avoiding the reason behind his question. "But Malik, you are the one who has done this to yourself, not me. I'm not the one who made you leave, my Malik. It was you. You did this to yourself, your actions are what made me punish you. I told you, my Malik, I told you to not leave me, and you disobeyed me. …How could you do that, Malik? After all I've done for you…" Setting the cup back on the table, Mariku sighed, and Malik mourned it's loss.
"I want some more…" Malik didn't want to think about what Mariku had told him, didn't want to think of how he could possibly doing this to himself. It was just so sick and twisted.
Looking back down at him with an odd expression on his face, Mariku shook his head, refusing his request. "If you drink any more, you'll make yourself sick." Maybe, Mariku now knew what it felt to not have his questions answered.
"Mariku…!" Malik groaned, clutching his head, a throbbing headache beginning to start up. He was so exasperated, tired, thirsty, and hungry. If Mariku could take away the heat, he could give him the water back. "Please, Mariku, my head hurts. I just want something to drink..." Looking a little pleadingly up at him, Malik frowned, his head starting to spin again.
"I'm sorry, Habibi, but no. The medicine should start working soon. You'll be okay, I promise. I know you feel bad, but it will all be over soon. …Hopefully, you will have learned your lesson." Reaching out to pet the side of his cheek, Mariku gave his alien smile, and gently pushed him back down from his sitting position so that his head rested against the soft pillows. Brushing a couple pieces of hair from his face, Mariku pulled the blankets back up around him. "I don't want you to be upset. In a week, it will all pass, and we can be happy again. But for now, you need to rest and let your body recover." Happy… Malik didn't think there was such a word.
"I'm hungry…" And his words were reinforced by a loud growl from his stomach, making Mariku look a little guiltily down at him, but his standing point did not waver.
"Then you should have thought about what you had done before you did it. You hurt me much more than you hurt now." His tone of voice had grown a little angry, and Malik flinched back away from him when he reached out to touch the side of his face again. Sighing, Mariku picked up the glass of water and stood. "I'm sorry, Habibi. Just try and get better soon." Looking back at him one last time, Mariku left the room, taking the water with him. Giving his own little relieved sigh, Malik stared up at the ceiling, his eye lids lowering until sleep took him over once again.
The next time that Malik woke up, Mariku's presence had been replaced by a bowl of fruit.
--
Just like before, how Malik had tried to block the memory of Mariku masturbating in front of him from his mind, he does this with his rape. It is something he cannot handle, and cannot cope with. So he tries to ignore it, even though it still resurfaces often in his mind. Not being able to think straight because of his sickness -don't you remember being sick? Everything becomes muddled and the only thing you can think about is getting better, and how uncomfortable you are-, his mind is muddled, and he gives up easily, giving in to even fear and Mariku's touch. His submission won't last long. Or at least… he hopes.
As for Mariku, he is just glad that Malik is back with him. It has always been his dream to take care of him, quite literally, and so he jumps on the opportunity. Although, he does hold blame and anger towards Malik, since he had thought that Malik would never try to leave him, and had been horribly upset when he had. Remember, there is that part of Mariku that sticks true with the canon series. He is not mentally healthy, and harbors extreme violence and anger, especially when things do not go his way.