Words of the Wise Authoress: Do you ever get the sense that all those introductions authors stick in before their stories get kind of too stupid and redundant? You know, all those authors and authoresses who bounce around the room, claiming ownership of our favorite, drop-dead gorgeous anime characters and sticking them in broom closets for minor insults? Well, I dunno about you, but I'm getting really sick of those… so I think I'll just skip it, and try to come up with a good, original intro next time.
Have fun reading this story! Even thought I'm not the author, I'm supposed to pretend I am, and relay your lovely reviews on to the real author. So don't forget to leave a nice review!!!!!
Love ya, SeventhDaughter. Yu-Gi-Oh cast waves an enthusiastic hello from behind SD's back
Disclaimer: I would if I could, but… I don't.
On with the story!
England. A normal street. A normal house. A normal family.
The house was a typical English house, with a cute tile roof, big bay front windows, and two floors. The family had moved to England several years before from Japan. The father was English, the mother Japanese. They had a three-year-old daughter, already bilingual, and wanted more children.
The day was typically overcast, casting a dreary, gray tinge over everything. Everything, that is, except for the tall, thin teenager walking down the street. He was a bright blot of color in the gray late-autumn day.
He glanced nervously at the rumpled piece of paper in his hand. He had only checked the address written on it about a million times in the last hour… there. That was the house. Was this truly a good idea? It had been years ago, since the last time they'd seen each other. It was stupid, to want to push himself back into the other's life like this. But-
He walked up the stone path, between colorful clumps of flowers, and rang the doorbell. I have the feeling I'm going to regret this.
Tamae Bakura opened the door to a strange sight. On the doorstep stood a teenager whose pale blond hair contrasted with dark mocha skin and startling lavender eyes. He wore a cut-up black sweatshirt that was slightly too big and hung off one shoulder, showing the blue shirt underneath. His jeans were worn, and he carried a large brown backpack on his back. He just stared at her nervously for a moment, before speaking.
"My name is Malik Ishtar… I think I'm an old friend of your husband's."
Tamae raised an eyebrow at his strange announcement. Was this some kind of scam? Should she call the police? "You think?" she asked. He flushed.
"We've been out of contact for many years…we used to be great friends, so I decided to look him up…" he trailed off, swallowed, tried again. "His name is Ryou Bakura, isn't it? White hair, brown eyes, used to live in Domino, Japan- Oh! His favorite fruit is strawberries! Or maybe that's changed by now?" Conscious that he was rambling, Malik fell silent. Stupid, stupid, stupid idea to come here. This was Ryou's wife, for goodness' sake! What was he thinking, that they would actually be happy to see him?!
Tamae smiled at him. "No, he still likes strawberries. He should be home very soon. Would you like to come in and wait for him?" Malik flashed her a grin, and stepped into the house. Well, he looks nice enough, Tamae thought to herself, then laughed inwardly at the double meaning to the words.
Malik followed Tamae into the house. She was shorter than he was, with silky mouse-brown hair but vivid green eyes. So, this was the woman Ryou had chosen to marry. Ryou loved her – the way he had once loved Malik? Did he still love Malik? The boy felt a sudden surge of jealousy, which he quickly suppressed. I said I wasn't going to think of that, he admonished himself. I was the one who told him to go get married. It wouldn't have worked between us. We broke up, and that's final. We're just friends now. Maybe…what if he doesn't want to see me? What if he throws me out, or says he doesn't know me? What if- His train of thought was cut off as he realized that Tamae had asked him something.
"What?"
"I said," the woman repeated, "where do you know Ryou from?"
What to say, what to say? "I used to live in Domino too, and he would sorta help me with schoolwork," only part lie, "and we would hang out a lot doing other stuff, but then I had to move away." Malik stopped. Frankly, he didn't know what else to say. I guess Ryou never mentioned me to her…did I not mean anything to him? Could he have forgotten me?
The sound of a car pulling into the driveway was heard, then the slamming of car doors. "Oh!" Tamae got up, "that must be him and Rei now." Not quite sure why, Malik also stood up, and waited awkwardly in the neat living room. The front door opened and shut, and he heard Ryou's unmistakable voice calling out, "We're home!" followed by a shriller, cute "We home!" A small girl with grayish-brown hair in two braids bounced into the living room, stopping short when she saw Malik. And then Ryou entered.
Ryou's greeting died on his lips when he saw who else occupied the room. He stared in disbelief, hardly believing his eyes. He's so young, was the first thought that went through his head. Was this really Malik? He's a teenager, Ryou noted with some surprise. It hadn't been so obvious seven years ago, but now the difference in their ages was extremely obvious. Malik seemed horribly out of place in his living room, from a time and place so distant it seemed unreal. Memories of what they had shared rushed through his mind, and he pushed them back. He was married now; he had a new life, and a child. Where did Malik fit into this picture?
Malik stood silently, watching Ryou, who hadn't said anything yet, only stared at him. This really had been a bad idea, he thought, stomach plummeting. Resisting the pathetic urge to cry, he wrenched his gaze away from this white-haired man, telling himself it was only to be expected. Life was dynamic; there was no space in the world for someone as static as him. "Sorry," he said, swallowing his disappointment with supreme effort, "I guess I came to the wrong house after all. Sorry I bothered you, Mrs. Bakura, I'll just leave…." He would go find some quiet place to commit suicide and have a good cry.
"No, Malik," Ryou suddenly said, "don't say that." The tragically hopeful look the Egyptian was giving him only strengthened his resolve. I won't turn him away, like so many others have. No matter how long past, he's still the same Malik – obviously so, painfully so, more the same than any human being should be – and I loved him once, and he's still my friend. "I'm glad to see you again. I was just surprised." He pulled Malik into a hug, which the other returned enthusiastically. "I missed you," Ryou said, when they finally pulled away. "Come, sit down. What have you been doing all these years?" he fell into Host Mode easily. Questions like this didn't demand much thought or concentration; he'd had plenty of practice asking them during family gatherings and such.
Malik was so giddy with relief he hardly knew where to start. "Well, I wandered, not really, I actually spent a few years in one place, a few in another, you know, I went backpacking a little, since I don't have to worry about all those nasty diseases you know, I wish I could have come back sooner, I mean, uh," Malik blushed again. What was with him? He was babbling like some kid with a crush! Not for the first time, he wished he could act a bit more mature. He organized his thoughts. "I was in Kenya for about two years, just wandering around. I think most of the rest of the time I worked on the docks in Mexico."
What a strange person, Tamae thought. Not the kind of person she would have thought her Ryou would be good friends with.
Ryou, for his part, was still trying to link Malik to his present. When had he become so deeply set in reality? Way back when, magic had been and integral part of life. Now, he sometimes had problems believing those adventures had ever happened. But Malik….
Suddenly he noticed the slightly awkward silence that reigned once again.
Malik stared at the floor, one hand absently picking at stray threads in his sleeves. If he'd already come this far, there was nothing he could lose any more…
"Ryou, Tamae," he called them by their first names; after all, he was older than them! "Do you think I could stay with you for a little bit? I mean, Ryou, remember what we said back… then? I want to baby-sit your kids… I promise not to be a bother! I'll even clean the house and cook for you, if you'll only let me stay!" God, he was so pathetic. Malik regretted his words immediately. Was he that starved for companionship? Every moment he spent with Ryou only deepened the hole he was digging himself into, a situation where he was connected and dependent on a mortal. So little time… luckily, he was currently out of contact with Isis and Rishid. They would both have chewed him out soundly for the suggestion he had just made.
He had broken the Ishtars' ironclad law: Do not get connected! No long-term relationships of any kind, no falling in love. And most of all, never tell anyone about the curse. How easily he had gone against every one of those rules! He would no doubt pay for these transgressions later on….
Ryou honestly didn't know what to say. The old Ryou would have agreed wholeheartedly, immediately, to the suggestion, but he was no longer the old Ryou. For the first time, he felt trepidation. What kind of influence would Malik be on little Rei? How would he explain this to his wife? She was now looking at him almost helplessly, not sure what to say. After all, Malik was his friend.
"Why don't you stay for tonight, and we'll see about what happens later, ok?" Ryou finally gave a non-committing answer.
One night became two, which became a week, and then a month, until Malik was pretty much adopted by the Bakuras. True to his word, the teenage immortal insisted on cleaning the house and helping with other chores, and babysitting Rei. He said he didn't need to go to school.
Ryou fabricated a story for Tamae, sick at himself for lying, but seeing no other option. How could he possibly tell the whole story? Instead, he claimed that Malik came from an obscure country in Africa, and that he had a strange disease born of inbreeding that prevented him from ageing normally, both physiologically and psychologically. Tamae accepted his explanation, though she suspected there was more to the story. Much more.
Rei got used to Malik very quickly, and they soon shared a strong sibling bond. Her older brother Malik was the coolest ever! He told her stories about many strange things and places, and knew how to do lots of strange things. Once he even showed her how he made a small white light in the palm of his hand, but he told her she mustn't tell Daddy about it. It was their little secret. On the other hand, she learned that she also shouldn't ask him how old he was. He always gave the same answer, sixteen and a half, and he always looked sad. So Rei stopped asking, and accepted that her brother stayed the same, and didn't ask anymore. She didn't like it when Malik was sad.
Tamae was a lawyer, and a successful one. Being bilingual was a big help, and she did brisk business between Britain and Japan. One spring, about three months after Malik had moved in, she went on one of her routine trips, leaving Ryou and Malik home with Rei. She wasn't worried about them; both had already shown that they could manage quite handily.
For the first few days, things were fine. Until the evening Rei stayed over at a friend's house.
The house was unnaturally quiet and empty. Malik prowled restlessly, looking for something to do. He wasn't used to being practically alone in such a big house. Despite the fact that he had a lot of money that just sat around in banks collecting interest, he didn't use most of it. What was the point in having a big conspicuous house, only to desert it a few years down the line when he moved? And Ryou was in the house with him. He was almost afraid to be alone with Ryou now. Ever since he had moved in, it seemed like they just couldn't talk to each other normally. Malik got along better with Tamae and Rei than with Ryou!
Ryou listened to the almost-silent footsteps moving restlessly on the second floor. Now, when the house was finally empty, maybe he could talk to Malik properly. Decisively, he got up and went to look for the boy.
Ryou had just turned to the stairs when Malik came barreling down into him. As usual, Malik had taken the stairs two at a time, and didn't stop soon enough to keep from slamming right into Ryou. The impact knocked them both against the wall, and Ryou grabbed onto Malik to steady them both.
They both froze, noticing their proximity. Ryou had his hands around Malik's waist, and Malik was pressed against him from the fall, his tanned hands gripping Ryou's upper arms. Their eyes locked on each other, lavender drowning in deep pools of brown. It was impossible to say who leaned forward first, but the next thing they knew their lips were pressed together.
For one wonderful moment, they held each other, kissing with shared passion that had lain dormant for so long.
Ryou reveled in the feel of the warm, hard body against his, until suddenly his mind froze in horror. Tamae!
Malik was shoved away so suddenly he fell down, and just sat there, staring at Ryou with a worried expression.
Shit, was the only thought running through his mind. He's married…he's married and I touched him! Hopeless…he was going to be thrown out now for sure. He knew that this was a transgression Ryou would never forgive. He hung his head, pale blond bangs hiding his face, as Ryou stormed off. I'm sorry, Ryou. His eyes were suspiciously wet. I'm just a teenager, with teenage hormones. What am I supposed to do? I still love you. All these months of living with Ryou in the same house, pretending they were no more than casual friends, had been very hard on him. He couldn't help but secretly want his former lover back. At least he had been able to integrate as part of the family, in some way. But this was impossible to overlook. He might as well just get going, before Ryou could kick him out.
Ryou was dizzy, disgusted at himself for what he had nearly done, and angry with Malik who had pushed him to that state. Some part of him recognized that it wasn't really Malik's fault – what could he expect from the immortal teenager? He was the grown up, the responsible one, not the kid. Damn it all. Ryou leaned against the wall, eyes closed, trying to organize his thoughts. It didn't help that he still felt the burning lust, Malik's mouth moving hungrily against his own, the sweet taste of desire on his tongue.
The opening of the front door alerted Ryou, who jerked up, puzzled. Who had come… no! He tore down to the front door, just in time to see Malik walking out, shoulders slumped and head hanging. He ran toward him, automatically reaching out one arm to grab Malik's shoulder and drag him back roughly.
"You are NOT leaving," he said urgently. "Not this time. That's not a solution." Malik wouldn't look at him; instead, those lavender eyes were fixed dully on the floor, and his shoulder in Ryou's grip was tense. Ryou rigidly controlled his lust, and tried to state his feelings. No matter what, it wasn't fair to blame Malik for this, and it wasn't fair to punish him for it. He knew that the one thing Malik wanted more than anything was to be normal, and he wasn't about to take away what little the immortal had gained. "So something went wrong. Walking away from problems never gets them solved."
Malik shook his head. "The problem here is me."
"No, it's not," Ryou said softly. "The problem is what we used to have between us. I loved you very much, and I still love you, but not in the same way. I'm married now."
"And I'm the one who told you to get married," Malik added glumly. "I'm sorry Ryou," he was calming down now, "I- I guess my hormones got the better of me… you try being a horny teenager for two hundred years…."
A smile quirked Ryou's mouth, and he tugged Malik gently back into the house. "Well, you're doing a fine job regardless."
Malik gave Ryou a fake grin, a quick hug, and escaped upstairs. Ryou collapsed on a sofa, put his head in his arms, and hoped to God things would be okay.
Malik fell onto his bed, willing away the tears. He hugged his pillow tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I love you, Ryou," he whispered, resolving that this would be the last time he ever thought or vocalized those words. When he had asked Ryou to go have a family, he hadn't thought it would hurt this much. For the first time in months, Malik locked himself in the bathroom and stabbed himself to death.
The worst part of the day, Malik thought, was the part after he had finished his morning chores and before everyone was home, when he was all alone. Sometimes he would find things to do, such as reading, wandering around the neighborhood, stuff like that. But there were plenty of days when his melancholy would begin to catch up with him and he'd wander around, not knowing what to do with himself.
Someone was watching him. During the entire time Malik was alone the spirit would float behind doors and around corners, silently watching him. So long had passed… and he wasn't as strong as he had once been. The Pharaoh had eventually moved on to the next world, but he was still stuck in this one, frozen in time, with no purpose, nothing to look forward to. He was hopelessly tired, and horribly alone. He was now weaker than he had ever been, exiled from Ryou's body most of the time. With time, Ryou had forgotten about him, had even stopped believing he had ever really existed. Now he wasn't able to take over Ryou's body, even when he wanted to. He was simply a wandering spirit, kept close to Ryou's body or his house. And he found himself hopelessly attracted to Malik. Malik was just like him, wasn't he? Neither of them had a purpose; both lived in existences separated from the rest of humanity, locked in this moment. But Malik never noticed him. Malik was too caught up with Ryou. The spirit watched as day after day Malik pined after the man he could never have, whom he had willingly given up.
Being alone does things to people. Existing in virtual vacuum, ignored by everyone, had made the spirit doubt his own existence. What was he going to do with himself now, surrounded by people whose disbelief in him made him lose what tenacious hold on reality he had?
Finally, one day, the spirit decided to do something. Malik, alone in his room, sat morosely on his bed, idly wondering what to do, trying not to think about how desperately horny he was. Ever since he had moved in with the Bakuras, and especially ever since the incident with Ryou, Malik had hardly dared even think about sex. Which was incredibly hard, considering his physical age.
Soft footsteps startled him into look up. The spirit had used what little power reserves he had in order to make himself temporarily solid. Of course, this solidity was only visible to people with a strong grasp on the supernatural.
"You?" Malik said, recognizing him. "I didn't know you were still around."
The spirit didn't answer, rather knelt on the floor in front of Malik, pushing the boy's knees apart.
"What are you-?!" Malik protested, momentarily shocked.
The spirit's voice was husky, though not just from disuse. "You want Ryou, don't you?" He leaned forward, his hands on the zipper of Malik's jeans.
Ryou… he really looks like Ryou…. Malik found himself unable to resist as he fisted his hands in the soft white hair, whimpering Ryou's name.
From then on, the spirit would show up every once in awhile to have sex – for that was all it was. Malik felt guilty every time he used the other like that, but the temptation was too great, and each time he was unable to resist the silent invitation. He never dared ask why the spirit did it; he was too afraid it would make him stop.
After a while, Malik dubbed the spirit 'Bakura', and would talk to him. Bakura wasn't very talkative, but was happy to listen to someone who treated him as if he was really there. His sense of self wasn't strong enough yet to have long conversations. And besides, what would he possibly say? It wasn't as if he had done anything noteworthy lately. So he just sat quietly, listening to Malik talk about anything under the sun, and wished that Malik would cry out his name in passion, instead of Ryou's.
Years passed. Malik became an integral, if unchanging, part of the Bakura family life. Tamae didn't fail to notice the strangeness about him, and she still harbored suspicions that things were not as simple as they seemed. But she too grew to love him, and decided to wait until Malik or Ryou let her in on the secret. Meanwhile, she had no reason to distrust him.
Rei grew older, and soon had a younger brother and sister. She and Malik were best friends. She knew that she could trust him with anything, and he would never betray her. If she had trouble with bullies, Malik took care of them for her. She told him about her secret crush in fifth grade, about the best friend who hurt her badly in seventh, and anything and everything else in her life.
For Malik, the years were happy, but trying. He lived in the moment, trying not to notice how everyone else kept growing older. Countless times he found himself standing in front of the door, resolving to leave once and for all. Each time he fought with himself, and finally decided to stay just one more day.
Each time, that is, until Rei's seventeenth birthday.
The preparations for the party were extensive, and it seemed like Rei was inviting everyone she knew. After all, this was her last birthday as a child. Malik helped out with everything, trying hard not to let the occasion get to him.
He hated birthdays – detested them with a passion. But other people didn't agree with him, and Rei wouldn't understand anyway. So he pretended. He was a good liar.
The entire evening he wandered among her guests with a smile plastered on his face and a wooden feeling in his heart, receiving appreciative looks from the girls and curious or jealous looks from the guys. He desperately wanted to get away to sit alone on some rooftop and blank his mind. If only he could go to Ryou…but Ryou and Tamae were upstairs so as not to bother, and he didn't want to intrude. He wondered how much longer he would have to stay downstairs for politeness' sake, for he didn't want to hurt Rei by leaving.
Rei was getting a drink with her friend Linda, who was giddy from dancing.
"I just danced with that cutie over there," she gushed. "Who is he, anyway? I don't think he's in our school."
Rei followed the finger. "Him? He's Malik, my older brother."
Linda looked between Rei and Malik, confused. "You don't look alike."
"Silly, he's adopted!"
Linda shrugged. "Whatever. How old is he?"
Rei laughed, and gave the answer Malik always gave. "Sixteen and a half."
Her friend looked puzzled. "Then why do you call him your older brother?"
"Hey…you're right! Malik!" Rei called out, catching his attention. "If I'm seventeen now, I guess you're not my older brother anymore! I'm older than you!"
Malik's jaw tightened, the words reverberating through his mind. Not my older brother anymore. It was true, it was true. Rei, whom he had babysat, seen potty trained, walked to her first day of school, was older than him. She was seventeen. How many times had this happened? It seemed as though he'd barely turned around, and another person he knew was growing old. First Ryou, now his daughter, how many years would it be until they were dead? He hardly registered the people around him as he walked numbly away, climbing up the stairs. Damn it! Did she have to point it out, and tonight of all nights?!
Rei watched him go, worried, and would have gone after him, but for her friends who surrounded her, chattering. She would talk to him later.
Malik went into the bathroom, and closing the door behind him, sank to the floor, hugging his knees. Damn, damn, damn. Maybe… maybe tonight…. He pulled out his pocketknife, climbing into the bathtub.
"Malik, stop, it's not going to help!" It was Bakura, his transparent form hovering nearby. But Malik didn't want to listen to the voice of reason, and ignored the spirit. With a practiced, familiar movement, he slashed the knife down his forearms, from wrist to elbow. Bleeding to 'death' always took him longer to recover from than just a stab, and he wanted to be 'dead' for as long as possible tonight.
"Malik," Bakura said softly one last time, already fading out.
"Wait…" The quiet voice startled him back, and he looked at the blonde Egyptian curiously. "Stay with me a little?" Malik pleaded, blood bubbling out of the wounds on his arms.
"Of course." Bakura sat down by the tub, and played with the soft blonde locks, until Malik was still.