Okay….TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH! But, it's done, Chapter 3 of "In This Game Called Love" I, like said, adore this story, and I could only wish I could get the chapters out faster. I warn you now…this is a really long chapter…21 pages handwritten. Hehe… Thanks for watching out for this! Okay…shoutout time!
Silent Dreamweaver: I'm glad you think DDR and YGO is a great combo. ::Smiles:: Same here. Glad it's workin' for ya and I love ya too! ::TackleHugs::
MariksMyra1614: Yes! Another Malik/Ryou fan! ::waves the flag:: Anyway, thanks for reading, and ::Grins:: I'm glad you liked how Malik was described. ::Wink::
KentouKurige: Yes! Dancies for all! Thanks, Shouri.
Terri: I agree, Ryou does need saving! This chapter is just for that…hehehe…anyways! Malik and Ryou are gonna hook up around chapter…hmm…6-ish. Sorry for the long wait. Don't worry…only 3 more to go. ::Smiles:: Thanks for reading!
So, thanks to everyone who reviewed or read and just didn't review…either way, Thanks! So, on with the disclaimer!
Malik: ::Sighs deeply and looks around:: Ya know what…I'm beautiful…and I need to be told…::Walks around shirtless::
Ryou: ::Nosebleed:: Malik, you're beautiful…
Malik: I know…::Winks:: Anyway, Kei doesn't own Yu-Gi-Oh, Dance Dance Revolution, or any of the lyrics used. Thanks for reading! No flames, please…me and Ryou will cry….
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Chapter 3: Destiny
A crowd slowly fathered around the two Dance Dance tycoons, mumbling under their tired, sweat induced breathes.
I've played that guy…he killed me!
He came close to a Triple A!
The triple A, the most sought after prize in the DDR world. Playing an entire song Perfect, not an easy task.. In this arcade, no one had ever achieved the accolade of a Triple A, though many would try and fail, try and fail, and eventually lose all the faint confidence they had had, retreat from the arcade and go on a temporary hiatus, rethinking why they wasted time and money on a stupid game. They would return the following week with pockets overflowing with new, shiny quarters, jingling excitedly as they were slipped into the machine, knowing full well they were part of a full hearted attempt, which would like the many before, fail.
Auburn eyes gazed into violet, sickening determination consuming those dark orbs. The main course was about to be served, and Bakura was quite enticed by the appetizing opponent. With a curved tongue, he licked his hungry lips, leaving a dull shine upon the thin, pink slits. His forehead glistened slightly, the sweat slowly gathering. All the hot, never-ending breathe of the fathering crowd added to the all around humid, muggy temperature of the cluttered arcade. The droplets that trickled down the challenger's temples accented the paleness of his face, though the one who stood beside Bakura stood paler then he. Not even the lights, as dim as they were, could darken the pasty complexion of Ryou. He was silent beside Bakura, but he couldn't help but glance at Malik.
Ryou lacked many things, but for what he lacked, a unique gift was bestowed upon him, a keen judge of character. He could look someone in the eye and in moments, he knew if a terrible past plagued them or if selfishness is what drove them. What he saw in Bakura's eyes was egocentric greed and an immense hatred for many, maybe all. It mattered not, but he wanted to analyze Malik. Ryou wanted to know what was so special about him.
Shyly, Ryou lifted his head and tried to peer into the lilac pools, rippling with confidence. The ashen haired one was taken back by what he saw in his eyes, such eloquent elegance, benign beauty, and a genuine glimmer that entranced him. He soon became lost in the abysmal glory those lilac orbs provided for him, a kaleidoscope for things you had failed to see in himself or anyone else for that matter. He really is something, though Ryou as he was slowly hypnotized by Malik, but he was brought out of this deep thought by a powerful voice, one that forever haunted his fragile mind, though the voice for once snapped not at him, but the voice's opponent. The blonde stood solemnly, expressionless, steady.
"So, King," He, Bakura, said the word as if it were lethal poison plastered upon his lips. "Do you except my challenge or are yo--?"
Malik snapped. "I accept." Bakura wasn't given time to complete his vicious remark, and in any other case, he would have been simply and immediately annoyed, thinking his words were those which to be respected and feared, though now, when someone who knew nothing of his reputation had the nerve to challenge his words with ease amused him. Bakura chuckled.
"Very well." With light steps, Bakura stepped onto the now emptied board. Those who were playing heard the challenge laid down and quickly cleared the battlefield. The challenger stepped onto the second player position, awaiting the spot to his left to be filled, and it was rather anxiously by Malik. A crowd fathered slowly, then more and more, then by the droves they gathered to watch the colossal clash. With slender, steady fingers, the quarters were slid into the small slots, though the glimmering silver coins clung desperately to their sweat drenched palms and fingertips. The sound, soon after, blared as the game was about to begin.
As odd as it sounded, there was a designated DDR referee for matches such as this. He always positioned himself where he could clearly see both combatants and make a judgment call if need be. Today's official was a lean blonde with orbs flaring with amber embers. He looked to his right, then his left, and proceeded to speak.
"This will be a three song battle on Heavy!" His voice rang loudly and clearly, as the two stared each other down, adrenaline pumping. "The song selection will be as follows; the champion, then the challenger, and finally, a song selected at random. Agreed?" Malik nodded though Bakura's obnoxious opinion had to be let loose.
"Why does he get to pick first?"
"That's just the way it always has been. I just--"
"Well, I just don't get why we can't change that. I mean, haven't you ever heard 'change is good'? I mean, it's stu--"
"Let him pick first…" Malik hissed in an aggregated tone. "I could care less."
Bakura snorted, rather pleased with his actions. "No, your majesty…you can do first."
Though on the sidelines, Ryou heard the entire conversation and he pondered all the words spoken. He noticed the sharp change in the tanned one's personality. He watched the gentle lilac hues dramatically shift into a violent violet, ablaze with malice intent. This scared Ryou, for he had never before seen a change as drastic as Malik's so quickly. This…this is amazing…I've never seen anything like it. He has such passion in both anger and joy. It's amazing… The ashen haired one slowly was forming an interesting obsession with him, whose emotions were scattered and profound, though readable and oddly inspiring. He continued to study this fascinating specimen, observing his fixated glare upon the ashen haired one who smirked rather devilishly.
"And now, the match to decide the Dance Dance Revolution champion!" The blonde official announced in a clear, booming voice as everyone cheered with rabid excitement. "To my right, the challenger, Bakura!" A few scattered in the crowd applauded weakly, as if they were nothing more then fear induced claps, but it was all Bakura needed to further inflate his already enormous ego. "And to my left, the reigning champion, Malik!" The small arcade exploded with wild whistles and powerful praise. This caused Malik, in his deep concentration, to crack a smile. The arcade minions adored their king and this admiration sickened the challenger. "And now, let's get ready to dance!"
Again, the crowd exploded as the two took their ready stances, eyeing the screen though not focusing on the blaring, vibrant colors that the screen provided, no, but only using it as a medium to glare at the foe's glaring reflection. Bitterly, Malik clenched his ecru fists as he was forced to look into the eyes of the one whom, for reasons not even he knew, annoyed him to the endless point of no return. He couldn't explain why or how in the short time he knew him, Bakura was able to push all of Malik's buttons and become quite the bothersome pest. Maybe it was because of his blatant disregard and disrespect of the game and its use of instilling fear on others. Malik tried to conjure up every reason he could possibly thing up to hate him. The feeling was mutual.
He snapped himself out of his trance as it was his turn to select the first song. He scanned through the vast library of catch tunes and entrancing lyrics. Round and round the list spun, passing each song at least twice, not being satisfied with beats he would usually adore. The indecision caused undue irritation to Bakura, as he angrily folded his muscular arms neatly over his chest, his heavy black boots tapped against the metal face of the board. Time was against him as it ticked away, a few seconds left to pick the song that may give him even the slightest advantage in this match, an advantage that was extremely critical. Finally, the song list stopped revolving and a song was selected with but a few seconds to pare. Bakura's expression shifted to one of extreme disgust as he glanced over at the horrible song's selector.
"What are you," He paused and spat out the words with a cruel tone. "A fag?" A few were entertained as the childish 'Ohhs' and 'Ahhs' filled the air. This caused the tanned one to gain a smirk.
"You're one to talk, aren't you?" More 'Ohhs' and 'Ahhs' filled the air thick with the rivalry that with each passing moment escalated. An annoyed scowl plastered itself upon Bakura's lips as he parted them to retort, but was quickly and cleverly interrupted. "If I'm correct, you're the one who makes a boy follow you around 24/7." He chuckled softly, "Surprised he doesn't come into the bathroom with you to wipe your ass." Eyes widened, jaws dropped and gasps echoed as everyone around roared with laughter.
"I can't believe he said that!"
"Does he know who he's talking to?!"
"Now he's really gonna get it!"
Mindless chatter ruled amongst all as Bakura, for once, was rendered speechless. No one had ever been so openly disrespectful to the most feared being in the arcade, and his methods, with such ease and unwavering confidence, never once caring that a fist would meet his face, stomach, and ribcage. Does he have a death wish?! Was the most frequently asked question amongst the gossiping gaggle that surrounded them.
"How dare yo--!"
"I say we make a wager."
Bakura cocked an eyebrow, rather intrigued by the tanned one's proposal. "I'm listening."
"If you win, I'll leave this arcade and never dance again." Horrified gasps filled the air as all the onlooker's jaws hung slack. They objected to Malik's proposal, but the champion's genuine smile returned. "But, if I win," He paused, letting his lavender orbs trace around the crowded room with careful concentration until they met a set of chocolate orbs that sparkled with minute curiosity. When he knew his target was aware, he lifted a caramel colored finger to address, without words, the prize he wanted to claim. "I want him for a month." The entire crowd seemed a bit perplexed, as did poor Ryou, who had just been announced as the prize for the match. "So," That same hand extended towards Bakura, who looked a tad apprehensive. Quickly stripping himself of his cowardice façade, he grasped Malik's hand with fierce force, his alabaster hand blushing as more force was applied. Malik still grinned as Bakura snarled with sickening satisfaction. "Do we have a deal?"
"You're on."
With the first song chosen, the challenge set down, and the crowd buzzing, the stage was set for round one!
The aforementioned song that Malik had chosen, the one Bakura had objected to rather harshly, was a song by the name of "Speed-Over Beethoven", an interesting take on a classic. Like Malik's personality, the song was very lively in beat, cheerful, but the words themselves were rather sad, lonesome.
Into the night, you'll make me cry
I need your love to save my life
Those words repeated over and over in his head, because in all honestly, that's all he did want, was love. He was a very outgoing, charming person, but he often, more like always, kept to himself. He adored being noticed, being talker to, but he rarely was. He had no true friends, only those who admired him on the Dance Dance floor. No one had ever said to him with truth in their eyes 'I like you for you.' It was something Malik longed for, a reason why he woke up each morning, hoping, praying that today would be the day he found a friend.
He lived alone, Malik did, in the district of town even the rats had forgotten. Malik had once heard someone say 'It can't wait all the time', but that didn't apply to the neighborhood shunned by the light. Quiet, though busy with the nightly robbery and police search. The bars overflowing every night while the malnourished and under funded library lay in ruins, only now used for not to gain knowledge, but as a hideout for the drug addicted. Malik was no stranger to this life without light, living a life shrouded in doubt and darkness. That's why the arcade was Malik's sacrilege, his sanctuary, and by Ra, he wouldn't allow it to be stolen from him!
The dance began, rather quick tempos hastily taking control of Bakura and Malik's bodies, throwing them into a whirlwind of upbeat movements. The arrows blazed by, leaving a blaring trail of vibrant colors behind. Their feet slammed hard against the metal dance pad, the bangs echoing endlessly through their ears. Such sleek, fluid movements, smooth transitions, all perfectly executed in a flash of brilliant light and symphonic melodies, it was poetry in motion, two bodies controlled by the enslaving music. The onlookers cooed and purred, watching the heated competition, though one person's fascination was deeper then others.
Ryou's gaze was focused upon the tanned one. For a reason not even he knew, Ryou had an immense fascination, an obsession almost, for the tanned one dancing before him. Something he couldn't explain, a force beyond control, he was a slave to the exotic vision, so close, yet so far away. His immense beauty was in a class all its own, hypnotic and contained divinity unmatched, yet so out of reach for someone like the pallid one.
No! He slapped himself mentality, ridding himself of the saint dancing in his daydreams. I'm with Bakura…well…am I really? He threw a glance at Bakura's cocky grin, his cynical eyes. Was this what Ryou wanted? He dare not let his thoughts drift only further into the land of reckless fantasies and dreams beyond the grasp of man.
When Ryou's gaze focused back up to the game, he was shocked to find the first song was coming to a hasty end, both dancers not even breaking a sweat. Their steps slowed, breathes steadied as the scores displayed themselves before the two anxious sets of eyes. Before the grades were shown, Bakura chuckled.
"Heh. Child's play."
"Really?" Snorted Malik, a grin dancing upon his lips. "From what I could see, on line…oh say, 45…you stumbled a bit. Still nailed it though. Impressive." Bakura's face contorted, forming an expression of sheer loathe. How did he…the mistake was no minor…I just lifted my foot a fraction of a second too late, and he fucking noticed! How the hell… Bakura lifted his eyes slightly to see that confident grin upon Malik's lips, and this filled him with anger beyond comprehension. The crowd spoke amongst themselves, some having a want to feel intelligent, though this attempt was horribly executed.
"He did! Line 45!"
Bakura heard this mindless chatter and from the back of his throat came a hoarse, vicious snarl, much like that of a hungry wolf's growl as with knifelike movements, he whipped around and roared.
"Shut up!"
Everyone silenced, fear taking control of the aggravating situation. The onlookers were reduced to looking like dozens of deer caught in a headlight's glaring gaze. Satisfied, Bakura turned to fact the screen, the scores revealed.
Player 1: A
Player 2: A
Tied! The audience who still dared to speak after Bakura's booming intervention murmured comments of confusion. They knew Bakura strived for the best, and never had he tied! The one with the flaring auburn eyes fumed silently as now it was his turn to choose a song, and with no hesitation, his fingers slammed down hard when the song entitled 'Afronova' blared through the speakers. That devilish smirk reappeared The song he choose had a rather tribal beat, quick in tempo and plentiful in steps.
"Now, this is my song, ya stupid punk." Bakura viciously snarled, an overconfident smirk setting upon his thing, sharply curved lips. A small, though finely pointed ivory fang poked through his hungry lips. He gave his opponent a final wicked flare before the music began and their legs and feet stomped to the beat.
Ryou's shy gaze again focused upon the two bodies, watching them push themselves to limit's never before met. He admired these musical warriors, one just a bit more then the other, though it was silent admiration, which is what it would forever remain. He would not vocalize his odd fascination, for he did vaguely remember what happened the last time his eyes innocently met another:
"Why are you looking at him?!" Bakura snarled, raising a powerful hand only to bring it down upon Ryou's pale cheek with anger and furious vengeance. The one with the gentle honey orbs flew back, hitting the opposing wall with a sickening thud. Letting out a sharp, pain induced whimper, his body, like that of a neglected rag doll, lay barley breathing, limp upon the navy blue carpeted rug. Eyes half lidded, he looked about to see his attacker absent, only seeing the white walls. Oh, how Ryou wished to be cleansed untainted, like that wall. He sighed deeply as he sat up, feeling his face start to numb and swell. Before he would regain his balance, he was struck down once more, this time by a foot clad in a thick leather boot. He let out another shrill cry, falling back against the wall once more, though he didn't fall. Two strong hands pinned his weak shoulders against the hard surface, digging sharp talons into the innocent, virgin flesh. Ryou let out a defenseless whimper as Bakura advanced upon the other, pressing his muscular frame against Ryou's with bruising force. "You're mine, dammit! Mine! Say it!"
"Yours."
"Go on."
"Yours, Bakura."
With force, Bakura grasped Ryou's chin and pulled him into a harsh, painful kiss, sliding his serpentine tongue through Ryou's barrier and deep into his mouth, His taste was rather addictive, and Bakura was always ready for a fix. He pulled away, still holding his chin. "Mine."
He cringed, remembering greedy hands roaming his trembling body, feeling so dirty and tainted. Ryou's thoughts were once more interrupted by blaring applause, 'Afronova' ending with the final fatigue induced steps, as through a drizzle of swear, Malik turned and flashed a soft smile at Ryou. The ashen haired one froze, his eyes falling directly to the floor. A blush hastily formed upon his alabaster cheeks, as he thought to himself, the little voice in his head stammering.
His smile…i-it's so pure…
As if Bakura could read the thoughts of the one with the love struck gaze, he shot a glare so vile that if looks could kill, Ryou would have been six feet under within moments. As the gaze connected, Ryou seemed to freeze even furthermore, a cold sweat cascading down his pale face. Malik noticed how Ryou's expression shifted to one of terror, as if untold misfortune were soon to follow. The tanned one followed the apprehensive gaze to the one beside him, Bakura. Malik had to stop and ponder the obvious, He had come to the realization that Bakura was like a tyrant, a fearful look acting as a staff to rule all around him. Just lifting his hand could make everyone below him cower. With his booming voice, he could bring his followers to tears. He couldn't stand this, no, not a life where fear instilled was what caused fearful hearts to cower further and skip a beat.
"Bakura, you are certainly a foul creature."
He cocked an eyebrow, half confused, half annoyed with his comment. "What the hell do you mean by that?"
"I know how you work. You don't have the audacity to be a normal person. You have to be a God, worshipped by those you feel are below you. You are far from a God, you're a bully. You don't earn respect, you demand it because you can't get it any other way and you know you can't!"
Bakura's eyes widened. "How dar--!"
"No, Bakura, how dare you!" Everyone surrounding gasped and gaped, including the ever timid Ryou. "You don't have the balls to earn respect, so you think that being a feared jackass will provide you with that you lack, which is plenty!"
The room fell silent for moments after the statement, Malik's eyes again shifting to a malice tinted violet. Bakura said nothing, but the onlookers felt they need to chatter mindlessly amongst themselves. What they spoke of was insanely inane, and therefore, annoyed the already snarling beast, like holding a juicy steak before the jowls of a starving jackal, but he said nothing, not even giving a second glance to the one beside him. The room was tense, the air thick with the bitter silence that plagued the ears of everyone surrounding them. After the infectious silence, Bakura chuckled softly, though this soon escalated into a rather amused cackle. Malik lifted an eyebrow as the other regained his composure, the insane laughter reduced to a soft chuckle.
"I'm sorry."
Malik knew he wasn't.
"That was just the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard. You talk so fucking much, but in truth, you know nothing. You don't know anything about me, this game, or the shit you're getting into by challenging me. Like you supposedly know me and can see through me, I can see through you. You're a wannabe, nothing more. You're fooling yourself by playing with me and playing with the big boys."
Almost forgotten were the scores for Afronova. Attentivly, the crowd looked on, gasping at the results.
Player 1: AA
Player 2: AA
Another tie! The crowd roared, though the sound seemed to diminish into a soft him, barley audible over the heavy breathing of the two combatants, whose purpose for their musical war was not but a blur. At first, it was a gladly accepted challenge, and now, it was war! Despite the fact that both of them were an asthmatic catastrophe, they still pushed their fatigued bodies to painful limits, and why? The answer was clear to the two but to no one else around them, for stupidity had rendered them blind. It was obvious why the two men went to Hell and back during the first two songs, and the reason was Ryou.
Oblivious to all of the high strung emotions, the ashen haired one looked on with such intrigue, almost hesitant interest. Though he had no say in his involvement in this battle, he pondered the outcome. In anyone else's eyes, this whole situation of gambling with people instead of money was ludicrous, but Ryou didn't seem to mind. He was almost anxious for the last song to play, the final steps to be taken.
The official made himself vocal for the first time since the game's beginning. "The final song will be chosen by roulette. Each player has obtained one A and one double A each, the scores being close. This final song will decide the winner and as requested by Malik and accepted by Bakura, the winner will have him as a prize." The ref pointed to a blushing Ryou. Like a disease, wild applause spread as Malik was the one to lift his finger to guide the scrolling menu to the roulette option, but Bakura was the one to slam down a crooked index finger onto the glowing green select button.
Round and round the menu spun, names of the songs flashing before their tired gazes. This was it, the final song. With this selection, the favor could be easily swayed towards the pale one or the tanned one. The scale could be tipped with the slightest touch. This would effect Ryou's next thirty days, Malik's life, and Bakura's ever raising blood pressure. The list slowed and the seconds past like minutes, until the final countdown did end and the song that was the grand finale had been chosen.
End Of Century.
The onlookers chattered a bit, but Malik and Bakura jumped right into the seductively addictive booming beats of the randomly selected song, though the thundering bang of their heavy boots sometimes overruled the song. This was about more then music.
Malik lost focus about halfway through, his eyes slurring the arrows into a neon glare. He didn't care, though. He just kept moving. He didn't know what arrows he was hitting anymore, but it mattered not. The music controlled him, mind, body, and soul.
Everyone watched eerily silent, heavy, intense breathing taking the silence's place. The bewildered and apprehensive Ryou only watched, as would the fabled princess locked away in the highest, darkest tower, waiting for the battle for her to end, good vs., evil, man vs. beast. He didn't have to worry for too much longer, however, for the music halted and the scores were tallied.
The two exchanged not even one glance as they waited for the grades. Malik hunched over a bit, feeling the tickling trail of sweat fall down the sides of his face. He caught his breathe, which fought arrest, mind you, as his eyes darted up to the screen when he saw the colors shift and the grades presented.
Player 1: AA
Player 2: A
Bakura's expression of nonchalant confidence swiftly melted into one of pithy hatred. How could this have happened? Malik had beaten Bakura! No! His mind snarled as he bared his fangs. How did this happen?! How could I lose to a stupid punk like him?!
Bakura didn't even wait for the ginal score to come up. Childishly, he slammed down his foot harshly upon the silve dancepad, storming out of the arcade with no even a closing remark. It was all over. Malik was victorious!
The crowd was chocked, to say the very least. Their jaws hung slack and no sounds could exit their already open mouths, none seeming justly fit the situation at hand. The former dominion prince had been outplayed and overruled by the new people's king.
Soon, everyone left, the last minutes before the arcade closed down the night were rather silent. All fled, except for Ryou. He stood silently beside Malik, who remained on the board, slowly turned his gentle gaze towards his prize…no! How wrong that sounded! His new friend. Placing a gentle hand upon Ryou's shoulder, he spoke softly.
"Come on. Let's get outta here." With that, the tanned one's hand slid from his shoulder and grasped Ryou's pallid hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. Ryou felt his fiery blush return. He could only nod in reply, as all the machines, lights, and shine soon faded into the unforgiving night as the arcade returned to a state of slumber until the next morning.
Ryou, though hand in hand with Malik, walked a substantial amount behind him, his thoughts thrown to the starlit sky. Maybe, just maybe, this will be okay…for a while…
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You were my destiny
That's how it was supposed to be
That's the way it was really meant to be
I knew I just had to set you free!
"Destiny"
::Naoki::
