Chapter Twenty-One: Stupid
A few days, life passed smoothly. At first, Marik would only occasionally come and visit Ryou each day, stopping by purely just to keep his promise of a "Talking Time", before leaving abruptly. Eventually, as the next few days wore out and became stretched into a week, Marik came by more frequently, stayed longer, and even occasionally came with Ryou's breakfast, or lunch, or dinner.
However, despite his longer presences and extended acquaintances, Marik's attitude towards Ryou did not seem to faze very much. He was still short and still hard, but sometimes, when Ryou would wake up from slumber to see Marik walking through the door, a faint smile could be seen on Marik's face, but only for a second.
Yet, slowly but surely, Marik's heart was attaching itself to Ryou again, without either of them knowing.
One morning, Marik came walking down Ryou's hallway, not thinking about anything in particular. His mood was rather high…or at least, high for him, because he wasn't committing a homicide with vigor.
I wonder how he's doing…Marik thought to himself rather suddenly. It was the first time in a while that he had pondered that question; before he would always stifle it down with the Shadows within him. However today, the thought just occurred to him rather naturally, as though there was nothing wrong with worrying over someone kind, gentle and pure.
Shrugging off-handedly, Marik turned towards the door. Ryou had seemed to be getting better lately. If it weren't for the former Light's stupid nightmares, perhaps he would've been fully healed by now…
Marik opened the door.
Sitting in his bed, propped up by large pillows, sat his Ryou. Though unblemished by bruises and cuts and looking a bit more robust, Ryou's cheeks were still flushing with fever. His legs were still extremely weak from their injuries, forcing the white-haired boy to remain in bed all day and night.
Every second day, Marik would attempt to help Ryou walk again. However, the lessons seemed futile in the short run. Ryou's legs were far too weak and most surely damaged. At some point, Marik feared-worried---thought---about how Ryou was never going to walk properly again. Ryou seemed to never be fazed by this prospect, however…at least, not in front of Marik. In the times when they did spend time together, Marik had noticed how Ryou had already seemed to accept his fate; merely sitting in the bed quietly and smiling softly.
And indeed, Ryou was sitting that way again; his eyes softly looking down at the piece of silk he was stitching, his cheeks flushed modestly from his fever, his quiet smile hesitant and small…
However, today, someone else was sitting next to Ryou, instead of Marik. In fact, two people were sitting next to Ryou…Malik on the bed, and Bakura leaning against the wall, next to Marik's seat. A basket overflowing with the finest rolls of silk and bundled rolls of yarn sat next to Ryou's lap, its handle wrapped with a large, lavender ribbon. A small roll of parchment paper was stuck onto the ribbon, bearing the hieroglyphics and Japanese characters, GET WELL SOON!
At the sound of the door opening, Ryou looked up, and immediately, a large smile graced his flushed features. His tired eyes twinkled and brightened simultaneously along with his smile.
"Marik!"
Arching their eyebrows, both Malik and Bakura turned their heads towards Marik. The Thief King's eyes were still hard and hateful, and without another word, Bakura turned back to watching Ryou stitch away. However, Malik continued to stare at Marik with wide, unreadable eyes.
Marik narrowed his eyes warily. "What is going on here?"
Cocking his head curiously, Ryou smiled brightly. "Bakura-sama and Malik brought me a present, that's all! See, Mariku?" With a gleeful, enthusiastic squeal, Ryou picked up the basket of yarn and silk and sat it on the side of the bed, showing it to Marik. "See? It has yarn, and it has silk…oh, Marik, such beautiful silk! And they also got me lots of needles and pins and lots of buttons and even some wood at the bottom…!"
"I don't give a damn at what they gave you," Marik snapped coldly. He narrowed his eyes hatefully at Malik. "What are you doing here, Light?"
"Visiting Ryou," Malik said bravely. He gave Marik and equally hard stare. "Something wrong with that?"
Again, Marik merely gave the other a sharp glare, before turning to Bakura.
"You! I thought I told you get out of here already!"
"You never told me that," Bakura said coolly, not even looking back to address Marik. The white-haired thief pointed to the silk in Ryou's hands. "You're missing a stitch there, hikari…"
"What? Oh!" Ryou hastily returned back to his piece of silk, carefully picking out his mistaken stitch with the needle. "Thank you, Bakura-sama…"
Bakura merely grunted in response, but remained watching Ryou stitch. Malik finally turned away from his glare on Marik, and crawled over to Ryou's side, giving the sick boy a large hug.
"Do you like the present, Ryou-chan?" Malik grinned, hugging Ryou tightly. Laughing softly, Ryou nodded, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red from his blushing.
"Yes, Malik," Ryou replied. "Thank you."
"We went through a lot of trouble getting it for you," Malik grinned. "Buying the yarn was no problem, but Bakura really wanted to go raid another tomb, so we got all the silk from some dead pharaoh's chambers…"
Jumping, Ryou abruptly dropped the piece of silk. "Malik!" he cried, as Malik burst out into laughter and rolled onto his back on the bed. Bakura lips twitched.
"Don't worry, hikari, it's never been used," Bakura grinned off-handedly. "Pure silk, never worn, never going to be. If I hadn't stolen it, it would've been just sitting there, collecting dust."
"You raided a pharaoh's TOMB?" Marik snapped spitingly, irritated that he was being ignored. "What's the matter with you?"
"Aw, does little Mariku still believe that Ra will grant the pharaohs a good afterlife?" Bakura mocked, still not turning around to face Marik. "Che, what an idiot…"
"Bakura," Malik sighed, shaking his head. "I know you don't believe in Ra…"
"Of course I don't believe in Ra," Bakura said shortly. "Nor do I believe in Osiris, Ammut, Sekhmet, Nut…"
"It's pronounced 'nuut'," Malik corrected cheerfully. "Nuuuuuuuut."
Bakura gave the other a feral grin. "What about your nuuuuuuuut?"
"Bakura-sama, Malik-kun," Ryou sighed. "Please stop." With a smile, Ryou turned towards Marik, and held out his hand. "Marikuu…!"
"I'm not joining you if those two are here," Marik said harshly. A look of disappointment and hurt crossed over Ryou's face, and his hand dropped sadly. Sighing softly, Malik looked forth between Marik standing in the doorway, and Ryou looking dejectedly at his lap. Reaching over, Malik tugged softly on Bakura's coat.
"Baku…" Malik whispered softly. "Let's go home."
Bakura arched a pale eyebrow. "What?" he asked loudly.
Malik shook his head and sighed. "Bakura, come on, let's go home…"
"I'm not letting Marik drive us out, if that's what you mean," Bakura stated bluntly and loudly, not caring that Marik was standing right in clear earshot. "You wanted to see Ryou, so I got you to see Ryou. You wanted to give Ryou a present, so I helped you get Ryou a present. And you wanted to talk to Ryou, so go on and talk. I'm not letting Marik screw this up for you."
"Bakura…" Malik and Ryou sighed softly at the same time. Bakura shrugged.
"Why?" he asked at the top of his voice. "You shouldn't let him push you, you know…he's just a thick-headed, arrogant, cocky, perverted, slimy, empty-skulled, hollow-headed Shadow Master…"
"GET OUT."
In a blink of an eye, Marik had stridden in front of Bakura, and slammed the other away from the bed and towards the door. Hissing, Bakura waved his arms and immediately regained his balance and maintained his foot.
"Ooh, I think I hit a nerve," he smiled conversationally. "I'm sorry, did you hear us speaking?"
"Get out," Marik snarled. He whipped around and bent over Ryou, grabbing Malik's collar and promptly throwing the other over his shoulder and out the bed. "GET OUT!"
With a cry, Malik landed hard onto the ground, skidding on his shoulder. With a roar, Bakura pelted forwards, bringing his fist up to Marik's face. With angry grace, Marik swiftly pulled out a long dagger, and almost slit Bakura's wrist, snagging onto one of the tomb raider's many stolen bracelets.
A flash of cunning flicked through Bakura's eyes. With a swift twist of his wrist, the bracelet snagged firmly on the point of Marik's dagger. For a moment, both pulled back, but before anyone can do anything about it, Bakura yanked his arm back, and Marik's dagger came soaring through.
However, that was not the thing that prevented Marik from strangling Bakura on the spot. In fact, even the dagger hadn't been the object of interruption. If anything, the two former Yamis were not slitting each other's throat because both Lights had their arms wound around each waist.
"Bakura, don't do this!" Malik whined. He clamped his arms harder around Bakura's waist. "Bakuraaaa…."
"Mariku, please don't fight," Ryou pleaded. His thin, frail arms were also entwined around Marik's waist, his hot face pressing tightly against Marik's back. His eyes were squeezed shut, and his voice was pleading. "Please, Mariku, don't fight with Bakura-sama…"
"Then he's going," Marik snapped. "If he's not going, then I'm leaving."
"Fine!" Bakura snapped back. He wrenched Malik's arms away from him and grabbed one of Malik's hands. "Come on, Malik. We're going." With a jerk on Malik's hand, Bakura stormed out of the room, Malik behind him. With a snarl, Marik promptly grabbed the basket of yarn and silk from Ryou's bed, and threw it after Bakura. The basket hit the thief square in the back, though it hardly did any damage. In fact, it only angered Bakura more.
"DAMN YOU!" he bellowed behind him.
"DAMN YOU TOO!" Marik bellowed back. "NEVER STEP FOOT IN HERE AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND!"
"LIKE I'D WANT TO!" Bakura yelled back. "WHO'D WANT TO STAY WITH YOUR SNIVELLING SICK ATTITUDE ANYWAY!"
"WHO'S THE ONE IN THIS BED HERE!" Marik yelled back. Bakura laughed coldly.
"HE'S ONLY THERE CAUSE YOU KEEP HIIM THERE!" the thief laughed. "LIKE A LITTLE PRISONER! JUST FOR YOUR LITTLE MASTER/SLAVE FETISH!"
"KEEP YOUR LOWLY MOUTH SHUT!" Marik bellowed. With everything he had, he hurled the fallen dagger after Bakura. Thankfully, Bakura had just shut the door, so the dagger merely impaled itself against the wood with a loud thud.
Panting, Marik stared at the door for a while. The sound of Bakura's laughter echoed in his ears, and snarling, he whipped back around, and struck Ryou across the face. With a cry, Ryou released his hold on Marik, and fell back against the mattress.
"What the hell was HE doing here!" Marik yelled at Ryou. Whimpering, Ryou curled into a ball, his entire frame quivering again. "I thought I told you to never see him again!"
"B-But…I didn't know Bakura-sama was coming too," Ryou stuttered, his face growing redder and redder. "I o-only thought that Malik-kun was coming, not Bakura-sama…and I couldn't tell them to go away, I didn't know…"
"You don't know anything," Marik snapped. "You didn't know how to keep your mouth shut when you were blabbering with Bakura. You didn't know how to stop him when he wanted to bandage your wounds. You didn't know how to avoid yourself getting caught by the guards. DAMMIT, what do I have to do to you get to things through your stupid skull!"
With another snarl, Marik backhanded Ryou again, this time on the other side. Crying out, Ryou uncurled form his ball, tears streaming down his cheeks. Marik snarled again.
"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO CRY!"
"I---I---I'm sorry," Ryou sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I'm sorry, please don't be mad, Mariku, please don't be mad…"
"Don't call me that," Marik snarled. "I hate it when you call me that."
Sniffling, Ryou gave a small whine, his eyes shutting tightly. His frame quivered again, and he slowly curled back into a ball.
"I---I…I'm s-sorry," he wept. "I'm sorry…I didn't know…I'll tell them not to come next time, I'll tell them I can't see them next time…I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry…"
Snarling, Marik whipped around again. Stalking towards the basket, he grabbed its handle and seized the fallen rolls of silk and yarn, and stuffed them back into the basket.
"Look at this," Marik sneered spitefully. "What is all this? Just some yarn, some silk, nothing of any importance! You succumbed to THIS?"
"I-I…I'm sorry, Marik," Ryou whimpered. "I…they…I l-like making things…that's w-why…B-Bakura-sama and Malik-kun both knew, s-so…"
"Are you implying that I don't?" Marik hissed dangerously. Squeaking fearfully, Ryou shook his head frantically. Marik's eye twitched and he turned away. "Fine. Then you won't be needing this piece of crap then." He hurled the basket through the door and disappeared through it. "I'm throwing this out. See you."
And with that, the door shut.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid…DAMN THAT THIEF!
For a while, that had been Marik's rant, as he stormed his way through the halls of the labyrinth. Despite how large and winding and grand the maze was, he still could not find some place to get rid of the thing. He wish he could just throw it in a fire, but there was none at the moment.
I could just set up a bonfire right now, Marik thought, glancing at a nearby oil lamp. Or maybe I could do that later…maybe when Bakura's around…yes, that's a good idea. Burn Bakura, then kill Malik…then they can't give Ryou stupid presents anymore…
His conscience probed him again, this time slightly angrily.
You're jealous again, Mariku!
"No I'm NOT!" Marik suddenly said out loud. "I am NOT jealous!"
So Bakura and Malik gave Ryou a get-well present before you could, the conscience snapped. You just HAD to hit Ryou…again! You just HAD to take away his present! You just HAD to drive his friends of! Good grief, what are you, a grief-bringer? I'm surprised you're not wearing this big black cloak and holding a scythe!
"SHUT UP."
With all his might, Marik hurtled the basket into the floor, his eyes squeezed shut. "Shut up shut up shut up shut up…!"
Don't be such a baby, the conscience scolded. You're just jealous Bakura and Malik got Ryou a present before you. Well suck it up! At least they actually TELL Ryou they care for him…not like you…
"I can't say it yet," Marik snarled. "You know I can't.
Of course you can't, Mariku. But don't blame RYOU for something YOU can't do. Now go give him back his present!
"Never," Marik snapped. "NEVER!"
You're making such a big deal out of a stupid little basket…come on, it's his present, you have no right to just take it away from him like that….and he didn't even put up much of a fight. And yet you SLAPPED HIM!
"I didn't MEAN TO!" Marik yelled to his head. "It's his fault! He shouldn't have let Bakura come in! He KNEW not to…"
No he DIDN'T! the conscience yelled back. How else can Ryou stop him, huh? Look at him! He's weak! He's tired! He can barely stand, much less tell Bakura to get out of there! Even Malik couldn't get Bakura out of there! You're just being jealous and stupid again…
"I need to sleep," Marik said abruptly. He quickly ran down the hallway, and promptly ended up in front of his own bedroom door. "Leave me alone. I'm going to sleep." With that, Marik tossed the basket behind him, entered his room, and shut the door. With a furious amount of Shadows, he stifled his conscience and slid into bed.
I don't need him…I don't need him…
Shaking his head furiously, Marik shut his eyes, and forcefully blocked out his conscience. Slowly, he slid to sleep.
Darkness.
Not again.
Groaning, Marik stirred, attempting to get up. Darkness…darkness again…this was getting ridiculous…
A soft giggle laughed next to him, and he looked up. Staring down at him was the most adorable angel he could have possibly imagined…round, childish face and colossal, adorable brown eyes…white hair curled and framed the smooth, rounded cheeks and splayed across the small shoulders.
It took a while for Marik to realize that he was staring at a child Ryou.
Shaking his head abruptly, Marik got to his knees. It then occurred to him that he was no longer wearing his usual attire of black, but rather, a simple tunic. And what was worse, he wasn't big, bad, pharaoh master Marik anymore. If anything, he looked like Ryou's current age.
By the gods, he had turned into a child!
Startled, Marik shot to his feet and stared down at him. Yes, it was true! Horridly true! Small, pudgy brown hands stared back him, devoid and bare of golden accessories. He quickly felt his hair. Still high, but his hair was shorter than before. His face was a bit rounder, and his eyes a bit bigger…
Giggling, Ryou looked up at Marik, his eyes big and wide and cheerful. With a small squeal, Ryou poked Marik in the nose. Shaking his head again, Marik jolted up, and stared at Ryou accusingly.
"What was that for?" he snapped. At first, Ryou looked taken aback at Marik's outburst, but hesitantly replied with a smile anyways.
"Mnh," Ryou replied. Marik narrowed his eyes and glared at the other.
"Can you not speak?" Marik snapped. Ryou's eyes widened fearfully again, but he tried to compose himself. A small blush crept across Ryou's nose. He pointed to himself and said, "Ryou."
"Yes, I know that," Marik growled. He poked Ryou harshly in the stomach. "How old are you?"
Grinning, Ryou held up two fingers. Marik nearly fainted.
"YOU'RE TWO YEARS OLD!"
Startled by Marik's outburst, Ryou toppled back a bit, landing on his bottom. Now that Marik was taller than Ryou, he could now analyze the other more carefully. Obviously quite small, perhaps really only two, little Ryou was clad in one long, linen robe. It seemed too big for him, so the sleeves were rolled up as well as the bottom hemming.
Whimpering softly, Ryou's childish face grimaced, his little hand rubbing his bottom. His bottom lip began to tremble.
"Don't cry," Marik snapped. "Crying is for babies."
Whimpering softly, the other looked up, his large eyes swelling with tears. He gave Marik a painfully pleading gaze, before sucking a deep breath, and controlling his tears.
"That's better." Crossing his arms, Marik looked about. "Where the heck are we?"
Ryou cocked his head to the side, and gave a shrug. Marik scowled.
"Do you know anything?" he snapped.
Again, Ryou's large eyes widened even bigger, welling with tears again. Marik sighed exasperatedly.
"Don't cry!" he yelled. "It's not going to do any good!"
Whimpering, Ryou looked away, his pleading eyes searching the dark abyss. His bottom lip trembled as his eyes seemed to be unable to find what they were looking for, and fearfully, he stared back down at his feet.
"Mummy…"
"For Ra's sake, I'm not your mommy!" Marik snapped. A sudden realization struck him. "You…you lost your mother?" he asked.
Whining quietly, Ryou crawled forwards onto his hands and knees, before standing up wobbly. When he managed his footing, he looked around him again, his eyes threatening to spill the tears he was trying desperately to hold back.
"Mummy…mummy…?"
Frowning slightly, Marik reached out with his hand, and gently laid it on Ryou's shoulder. With a gasp, Ryou gave a start, before turning his big childish eyes back upon Marik. Marik, however, merely narrowed his own.
"So you lost your mother. Is that it?"
Sniffing, Ryou nodded weakly. "Mummy…Amane…"
"Your sister?" Marik said firmly. It was more statement then question. He turned away, thinking. "Well, haven't seen them, so don't ask me. I don't even know where we are." He turned back to gaze sharply at Ryou. "And don't start crying again. You'll find them. I know you will."
Whimpering, Ryou nodded weakly. He glanced at Marik for a while. Marik scowled.
"What are you looking at me for?"
Startled, Ryou jumped a bit. Nervously twiddling his thumbs, he casted his large eyes downwards, a soft pink blushing across his face.Marik sighed exasperatedly.
"What's the matter with you?"
Whimpering, Ryou clutched his fingers, and squeezing his eyes, he took a step towards Marik.
But the step didn't last long.
With a small cry, Ryou's knees buckled beneath him, sending him crashing onto the floor. The linen tunic draped upon him rose and swelled about him, deflating flatly against the ground.
With an alarmed 'ack!' Marik rushed forwards, and quickly scooped Ryou up by his arms. Weakly, the two-year-old gripped the other tightly, burying his whimpering face into Marik's chest.
"What's the matter with you!" Marik cried in alarm. He roughly pulled Ryou back to his feet, grasping both shoulders. "What is the matter with you? Can't you even walk?"
A tiny whimper escaped Ryou's lips, and he hesitantly shook his head. Gripping Marik tightly, he buried his face deeper into Marik's chest, a soft, fearful whine floating from his throat. Hot droplets of tears sank into Marik's skin.
"What is the matter with you?" Marik asked exasperatedly. "You can't even walk, you can barely talk, and you've lost your mother and sister! Good grief, what are you?"
Whimpering, Ryou clutched closer to Marik, his childish ball shivering slightly with tiny sobs.
"L-lone…lonely…"
Rolling his eyes, Marik shook his head. "Good grief, is that all you can feel? Loneliness? Forget it! I'm not staying in this hell pit holding your hand. Get a life!"
"B-Bakura…Bakura-sama!" Ryou cried out fearfully. 'Baku-…Bakura….Mommy…mommy…mommy…"
"For gods sake, I'm not your…!"
Marik jolted awake.
Shaking his head furiously, he hastily sat up.
…What the hell?
Again, Marik shook his head, this time, holding a hand up to his forehead. By the gods, what the bloody hell was that?
Stupid dreams, Marik muttered to himself. By the gods, what was going on with him? Stupid stupid soft, lovey dovey dream…
…
…stupid stupid squirmy, guilty writhing insides…
…
Cursing, Marik abruptly got up. Stomping over to the door, he threw it open, and for a moment, stared at the basket of yarn that laid overturned next to it.
….
Cursing, Marik promptly snatched up the basket and its contents, and slammed out the door.
…
Stupid stupid filthy conscience…
Just when he was about to drift off to sleep, Ryou was rudely awakened by the loud SLAM of his door. Well…to say that he was 'rudely awakened' would be a euphemism…needless to say, the SLAM of the door had shocked the living daylights out of the Light, especially after experiencing new blows from Marik.
Crying out in start, Ryou's eyes shot open and looked fearfully towards the door. Standing in its way was Marik, his eyes narrowed so lowly that they were slits, and in his hand gripped the handle of the basket. Whimpering softly, Ryou hunched a bit into a ball again beneath his covers, his eyes shut tight, fearfully awaiting what could be Marik's wrath.
Growling, Marik stared piercingly at Ryou for a moment, his hand shaking.
Dammit, he's crying again, I bet, Marik thought darkly to himself. I thought I told him not to cry….
His conscience smirked and prodded him painfully.
And WHO made Little Ryou cry, hmn?
Hissing, Marik furiously shook his head, and promptly stalked to the side of the bed. It was rather strange, to be truthful. He had absolutely no clue as to why he was going back to Ryou at all…was it just his heart that was controlling him?
I don't have a heart, Marik thought brusquely. With an unnecessarily hard wham, he slammed the basket down onto Ryou's bed, and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Here," Marik snapped roughly. "Take it, if you won't shut up about it." When Ryou didn't do anything, Marik narrowed his eyes, and sharply smacked Ryou about the head. "For Ra's sake, get out from there!"
Trembling, Ryou weakly peeked out from underneath his blankets, his mind throbbing slightly from Marik's smack. Teary brown eyes traveled uneasily from Marik's tall, towering shadow, to the slightly bruised basket on the bed. Ryou blinked unsurely.
Marik…was…giving it back?
Growling, Marik ran a hand through his hair, and shoved the basket into Ryou's lap.
"There, take it," Marik snapped. "Obviously you want it that badly, so take it." Huffing, Marik turned away, and scowled at the wall. "Take you stupid damn gift…"
Blinking unsurely, Ryou looked at the basket. It was unlike Marik to give something back, especially if it was once touched by Bakura. Nervously, Ryou's insides writhed. He didn't want to upset Marik any longer…he didn't like upsetting Marik at all…what if Marik left him? What if Marik eventually got fed up with him? He didn't want to upset Marik any more…
As much as he loved the basket of yarn and silk, he loved Marik more, and casting his eyes down, Ryou shook his head, and put the basket onto the floor next to him. Immediately, Marik spun around and stared at Ryou dangerously.
"What are you doing?" Marik snarled. Ryou whimpered softly and scooted back, still staring at his lap.
"I…I…don't want it," Ryou whispered lamely. Marik's left eye twitched.
"Excuse me?" Marik asked, dangerously soft. Swallowing, Ryou rubbed his arms, still not daring to look up at Marik.
"I…don't want it," Ryou repeated again meekly. "Not if…not if it makes you…this unhappy…I don't…" Ryou took a deep breath. "I don't want it," he lied.
Marik's eyes widened fractionally for an instant, before they narrowed again. With a suspicious look on his face, he advanced upon Ryou, and promptly grabbed Ryou's chin, forcing the other to look straight into his eyes. With a small yelp, Ryou obeyed, his large, doe-brown eyes twinkling with fear and apprehension. Both cheeks were turning slightly purple from the force of Marik's blows.
Please don't hurt me…
Again, Marik's eye twitched.
"And why don't you want it?" he hissed suspiciously. "Surely something like this from your precious Bakura-sama would make you happy, wouldn't it?"
Shivering, Ryou shook his head and closed his eyes. "…N-no…I…I don't want it…if…if it makes you…" Gulping, Ryou opened his eyes again, shying weakly away from Marik was possible. "If it makes you…so unhappy…"
Snarling, Marik harshly released Ryou's chin, and turned around. Scowling, he picked up the basket and thrust it into Ryou's arms, his amethyst eyes flashing.
"Take it," Marik snapped. "I know you like it. There would be no point in you giving up something you like just to make me happy. Personally, I don't give a crap."
Weakly, Ryou gripped the handle hesitantly, unsure of what to say.
"You….you sure..Mariku—I-I mean, Marik…sama…?"
"Don't call me that either," Marik snapped suddenly, before he could control himself. Squeaking, Ryou scooted back into his corner, looking at Marik fearfully.
"A-Alright….M-master…?"
Growling in exasperation, Marik shook his head and grabbed the basket.
"Whatever," Marik muttered. "Stop looking at me like that, will you? It pisses me off so much." Looking at the basket with distaste, he wrinkled his nose and picked up a ball of yarn gingerly. "What the hell do you do with this, anyway?" he asked with distaste, as he watched the ball of yarn unravel onto the ground, trailing by a string from his fingers. Smiling weakly, Ryou hesitantly shifted forwards and tangled the thread between his soft fingers.
"It…you can make…lots of things with it," Ryou explained shyly. He expertly wound the string around his fingers, quickly retrieving the ball of yarn back into his hands. "…I…like making…little clothes, and knitting or crocheting is really easy, because you don't need much yarn or anything…I could…" At this, Ryou looked up at Marik shyly, and blushed softly. "…I could…make you something…if you want."
Unable to help himself, Marik arched an eyebrow. He had just…yelled at Ryou, inexcusably beaten Ryou, and yet, Ryou was willing to make him something as a present? For a while, Marik could only stare incredulously into Ryou's face, flushing bright red with fever and purple from his bruises. A heartstring tugged mournfully.
Uneasy with Marik's unreadable gaze, Ryou averted his eyes back to the basket, his insides writhing. Did he upset Marik again? Swallowing nervously, Ryou shuffled through the basket, and retrieved the little doll that was hidden beneath.
The little plushie was simple; barely the size of Ryou's hand, and limp from use. Little black-button eyes looked up at Ryou, beneath a short bob of white hair. Smiling sadly, Ryou gently soothed over the red dress of Amane's doll, currently forgetting that Marik was still watching him.
"Did you…make that?" Marik asked abruptly, staring at the doll in Ryou's hands. With a start, Ryou hastily clutched the doll in his hand, and looked up at Marik fearfully. A spark of understanding flickered through Ryou's eyes, and the other relaxed slightly, looking back down at the doll in his hands.
"Ah…yes…" Ryou blushed softly. "When I was…six…or almost seven…I think…" Blushing brightly, Ryou turned away, and gently laid the doll back among the midst of silk and yarn. "I've been using that as an example lately," Ryou explained, side-stepping around any mention that might indicate his lost sister, "…I haven't made plushies…for a while now…" Again, Ryou blushed, and looked up at Marik hesitantly. "I'm really girly, I know…"
Again, Marik didn't say anything. Instead, the other merely continued to look at Ryou with a strange look in his eyes, making Ryou feel even more uncomfortable. Was he doing anything wrong?
Laughing weakly, Ryou dug around the basket a bit, and found another plushie doll. This one, however, was unfinished, and was merely a pale, naked ginger-bread-looking-man, needing features desperately. A stitch was trailing from its hips, where little stuffing was poking out.
"See? This…this is where…you make the stitch," Ryou explained weakly, showing Marik the stitch. "And…well…after you cut it out, and sew it together, you leave a hole, flip it around, and then start stuffing the doll…" Again, Ryou found himself blushing hotly. "I could…make one…for you….if you want…"
"It was your sister, wasn't it?" Marik suddenly said. Startlred, Ryou dropped the unfinished doll, and looked up at Marik with frightened eyes. Swallowing, Ryou nodded, and tears filled his eyes.
"Yes…" he whispered. "It…I…made it for Amane…for her first …" At this thought, Ryou's eyes drifted away from Marik, and a single tear made its way down Ryou's cheek. "…birthday.."
Blinking once, Marik frowned slightly. A small, serene emotion swept through his heart at the sight of seeing Ryou mourning over the loss of his beloved sister…and once again, Marik's insides writhed when he remembered just how cruel he had brushed away the idea of Ryou's sibling…
Please stop crying, Marik's conscience whined softly. Please stop crying…I'm here…you can teach me how to make dolls too…I want to make you feel happy….! Please stop crying…
Rolling his eyes, Marik sat himself on the bed. Grabbing the basket, he searched around in it, giving himself an excuse to do something with his hands.
"Get a grip," he muttered. "Your sister is dead now, Ryou. It's been nearly ten years, so forget about it." Grumbling under his breath, Marik held a needle in one hand awkwardly, while the other found the unfinished doll. "How the bloody hell do you do this anyway…"
Sniffling softly, Ryou watched from the corner of his eye as Marik struggled to find a way to fathom how to do something so…human. Something so…mortal. Something so…common. A smile almost spread on Ryou's face. Seeing Marik attempting to figure out how to do something so common looked just too cute for Ryou. In fact, if it wasn't for Marik's scowl, the Egyptian almost looked like a pouting child who had no idea what to do.
Smiling weakly, Ryou shuffled slowly towards Marik's side, in case Marik didn't want to be near him. When Marik did not respond, or did not seem to notice, Ryou sat himself next to Marik, and gently laid a hand on the one that was holding the needle.
Startled, Marik turned to face Ryou, who was smiling softly.
"You hold it like this," Ryou whispered gently. Tenderly, he soothed his fingers over Marik's, slowly shaping the other's hand to properly hold the needle. "And then you…hold the doll like this…"
As Ryou continued to shape Marik to hold the doll and needle properly, Marik could not but help stare at the other with incredulity. In fact, Marik was so surprised, he did not hear Ryou say anything at all. The only things that made itself apparent were Ryou's soft, delicate hands…his smooth, tender cheek, leaning against Marik's shoulder…his warmth that snugly warmed every inch of Marik's skin…
…but most of all, how Ryou's eyes seemed to glow…how even though they were half-lidded with weakness and exhaustion, they were still glowing…still twinkling with that same twinkle Marik saw in Battle City…the same warmth that glowed forth from their touch…
Slowly, Marik felt his hand moving, being guided with Ryou's.
"And you…sew it through…like this…"
I should be leaving, Marik though numbly, still staring at Ryou. I should be yelling at him, screaming at him…telling him to get away from me, to stop babying me…I should be hitting him, dominating him, telling him to go screw off...
…I should be hating him…
Nevertheless, Marik stayed where he was, his heart enjoying the warmth that he hadn't felt since he came back. Nevertheless, Marik surrendered to Ryou's touch, nodding his head silently as Ryou continued to teach him how to sew. Nevertheless, when Ryou bent forwards to reposition the doll, Marik laid his head on Ryou's shoulder.
Freezing slightly, Ryou slowly turned to look at Marik.
"Mariku…?" Ryou whispered unsurely.
Though his face was hidden by the shadows, Marik smiled. For that one moment, he enjoyed being normal…being mortal…being…
…human.
As Marik watched Ryou nervously regain teaching him how to sew, Marik smiled softly to himself. It wasn't so bad, visiting Ryou so much…it wasn't so bad, occasionally surrendering to Ryou and letting Ryou teach him something so girlish. It wasn't the sewing that caught Marik off, but rather the human feeling itself…the feeling of warmth, compassion, and tender care that he had long forgotten in his quest for darkness.
Plus…as Marik leaned his head on Ryou's shoulder, watching as Ryou continued to ease his hands into formations, Marik smiled.
…He loved it when Ryou called him Mariku.
AWWWW! KAWAIII!
I just wasted my Chinese homework hours doing that. XD But I liked this chapter. I thought it was very sweet. YES! MARIK IS STARTING TO BECOME NK MARIK AGAIN! WOOT!
Oh, and for those of you who didn't know what was the torture device those guards used on Ryou (since I can't answer reviewers individually, because of this site) what they put Ryou's legs in were actually an old torture device. I read about it in "Hunchback of Notre Dame". What they did was put Ryou's legs in these encasements, with a handle. The more you screw the handle, the tighter the encasements get, eventually nearly breaking Ryou's legs from the pressure. Ryou can still walk, slightly, but he's very weak, and there's going to be a really cute scene coming up with Marik pushing Ryou around in a wooden wheelchair. XD
And yes, I'm going to write a Thief Bakura x Malik lemon soon. It's going to be really heated, cause I got the idea from reading tons of Thief Bakura x Malik doujinshis. I love Thief Bakura!
Oh, btw, I don't think Ryou and Bakura are the same person, in response to one reviewer. (Again, I can't say the name, because this site has banned that). But you asked that why Marik still liked Ryou, if Marik hated Bakura, because Bakura and Ryou were the same person. There are some theories that Bakura and Ryou ARE the same person, and that Ryou was like, Thief King Bakura in ancient Egypt. (At least, that's what Shonen-Jump made it look like…)
But in my opinion, Thief King Bakura is Bakura, and when he died, his soul got trapped in the Ring. Ryou, however, is a separate entity that came across the Ring, not Bakura's reincarnation. Bakura found Ryou and took advantage of Ryou, and that is why Ryou and Bakura are not compatible with one another.
OH yes, and I also have an opinion that Yami Bakura is different from Thief Bakura. Thief Bakura in my mind is more human, and Yami Bakura's just deranged. Ryou is just a human being who accidentally was burdened with Yami Bakura, not actually Yami Bakura's reincarnation. Therefore, Yami Bakura and Ryou are NOT the same person. Hope that cleared things up.