A Tale of two Devils
Chapter 1: Reunion
He wasn't quite sure when it began, there was no single moment when he thought 'I want that man to fuck me' but rather it was a slowly building feeling, he found his gaze lingering on him longer than it should, he began to crave the moments when they accidentally bumped into each other, his very presence was intoxicating. At first he tried to keep his mind off it, but there were only so many times he could rearrange his deck, only so many duels he could win before his mind began drifting to his golden skinned acquaintance. Eventually he had to face his feelings, had to confirm what, deep down, he already knew. It was just a shame the realisation came too late.
In the beginning he thought he was just lonely, being trapped in a ring for millennia does tend to deprive people of conversation, but he never attached himself to any of the fools in that school, nor any of the duellists he met on Duellist Kingdom or during the Battle City tournament. The more he thought about it the more he realised Marik was different. He didn't even want to hurt him, something that would have been downright unthinkable even before he sealed himself into the ring. When he was with him, he didn't want to destroy everything, but now. Well now that he'd left Bakura was left with nothing but himself. It weighed heavily on him that now that he'd figured out his feelings he'd never see Marik again, why couldn't he have realised just a few days earlier.
Bakura heaved out a sigh, he may never get to see his Egyptian God again but that was no reason to mope, there were still fools to send to the Shadow Realm. It seemed that even months after the Battle City tournament ended the duelling fever that had gripped the city had yet to break, there was still plenty of fresh, stupid prey to duel, and plenty of tantalisingly rare cards to take. It seemed the duellists of the world took to the new rules like fish to water. Not all of them of course, there were still those vocal few that cried out against the change. It was pathetic, he'd been around when the original shadow games were played and yet here they were complaining about a few changes, to him the entire game was a bastardised version of what was 'played' back then. If a spirit older than their entire civilisation could adapt, why couldn't they, it was just another reason he wanted to purg-
Bakura's thoughts ground to halt as he saw him, the sun glinting mesmerisingly off the gold bands around his neck, he looked as beautiful as ever. Bakura forced himself to blink a few times, expecting Marik to vanish, as he had all the other times he'd 'seen' him. Bakura slowly opened his eyes and to his shock, and secret delight, Marik didn't vanish, he stayed where he was, the setting sun framing him so perfectly he looked like a manifestation of Ra himself. Bakura's throat felt dry and he swallowed thickly, he couldn't do this, he wasn't ready, not yet, perhaps not ever. He simultaneously wanted to get as close and as far away as possible from him. Although it had pained him greatly when his sister took him back to Egypt, he now saw it as a relief. The destruction of Yami Marik would have changed him greatly, much like how Bakura Ryou was much different than he was. At least this way he'd never have to face scorn from him. He could lie in bed and remember their time together.
He had thought he was fine on his own, but now that he had his eyes on him he realised how dull his life had become, he just hoped that if he ever did gather the courage to talk to him there's some semblance of the man he fell for. Shaking his head to clear it of such depressing thoughts, he realised he seemed to be much closer to Marik than he had been just a second ago and it took a far greater effort than he would have liked to admit to stop himself. He saw Marik finish talking to whoever he'd been talking to and begin to turn in his direction. Bakura dashed into a nearby alleyway. The need to be near him was almost too great to bear, but bear it he would, it was better this way. At least this way the perfect version of Marik that lived in his mind would be preserved. During those cold lonely nights at home he could pretend Marik was had his arms around him, when he was prowling around Domino City he could imagine Marik was right there with him and when he lay there in bed after a long day, he felt his face flush as he remembered all the night he spent pretending his own wandering hands were Marik's.
Bakura sank to the ground, his head in his hands. His mind was at war with itself, split between going to and staying as far away as possible from Marik. Time seemed to fade away as he battled within himself, neither side able to gain the upper hand. A cool hand on his shoulder brought him from this mental tug of war. He looked up, venom on his tongue, only to find the wind taken from his sails as he gazed into a pair of amethyst eyes.
His breath caught in his throat as the world faded away until it was just him and Marik. Time once more held no meaning, but this time it was a good thing, he wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to bury his face in Marik's chest and sob like a child. It was pathetic, he knew, he was the great Bandit Kind, master of the Millenium Ring and bonded with Dark Master Zorc, but even still, his emotions swirled around inside him so violently it almost hurt.
Someone was calling his name but he didn't care, he wanted the world to end so there would be no distractions, no need to part again. A hand wiped under his eye and it was only then that he noticed he was crying, the hand slipped down until it cupped his cheek.
"Bakura" His voice, that was all that was needed to break the floodgates, to let loose the torrent of emotions that Bakura had been suppressing. He broke down in Marik's arms and it felt so right.