Bakura left the warmth of the mansion and walked down the street. He did not intend on going home right now, and instead just went for a brisk walk. Not far from the house, he heard a shrill cry come from the mansion behind him. He ignored it and continued on. The gently pallid snow coated his silver tendrils as he walked against the storm.
Malik leaned forward, his clothing now shed; Ryou's as well. The clothing was in a large pile on the floor next to the couch in the living room. The sandy-blonde Hikari leaned over Ryou and softly kissed his bare neck. Ryou moaned faintly.
Malik straddled Ryou's hips, their flesh meeting at the hip. Malik's right hand danced down the virgin Ryou's slender hips and thighs. He smirked as he heard Ryou gasp oiut suddenly as he was surprised and now blushing madly.
Bakura had unconsciously walked to the park. He had stopped to sit on a park bench. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a pocket knife that was new and unused.
The blade was flawless and had a handle the color of black that was finely crafted by skilled hands. It was a beautiful weapon. He pulled back the sleeve of his trench coat and sunk its beautiful silver into his flesh, cutting ddeper than usual.
He thought of Mariku as he did so. He thought of how he longed to be with the dark spirit that sealed him away in the Shadow Realm.
Through the link Ryou shared with Bakura, he felt the unbearable pain of the cutting taking place in the park. Malik saw the same pained look on the other's face and stopped what he was doing.
"Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" Malik inquired, concerned for his lover.
"Its Bakura…he is still cutting himself…" Ryou's expression was both pained and upset. "I tell him to stop…but he refuses to listen…I'm merely a Hikari…"Ryou muttered.
Ryou felt Bakura close off the link for now. "We should go find him…" Malik said sadly. He didn't want to stop what he was doing, but Bakura's life was more important. He climbed off of Ryou and quickly dressed; Ryou followed in example. They left the house to search for him.
Malik reached over and took Ryou's hand as they walked. Ryou moved to clinging to Malik's slender arm. "I don't know where he is…" Ryou said in a slight panic.
"We'll find him, don't worry about that," Marlik assured the pallid-haired Hikari.
"Why would he cut himself," Malik though aloud without meaning to.
"Its relief to him."
"But its bad for him, Ryou."
"I know it is, but he doesn't care.
The crimson life escaping Bakura fell onto the virgin snow. Suddenly, he felt a certain presence standing not far behind him. The white-haired Yami sighed and closed the knife, placeing back in his pocket. He stood from the bench and began to wander off in the opposite direction of the quiet presence.
"Bakura."
The egyptian theif turned slowly, facing the sandy-blonde, looking more pale than usual. Mariku slowly approached him, and reached into his pocket for the knife with a serious look bound to his features.
"What arou you doing, Bakura?" Bakura took back his knife and stored it away in his pocket once again. "Taking back my knife," he replied. Mariku glanced down and saw the blood dripping from the tips of Bakura's fingers.
"You're bleeding," he whispered.
"Its no big deal," Bakura shrugged, taking the subject lightly. Fitfully, Mariku struck him across the face. Bakura's head was turned slightly in one direction. He did nothing and said nothing. "I told you not to fucking cut yourself!"
"Well, its not like it fucking hurts," Bakura replied calmly.
"Why? Why do it at all?" Mariku looked to be on the verge of tears. He struck him again. His fist ached as much as his heart had begun to. Bakura didn't become angry, nor did he strike back. "It helps me feel better," he mummbled.Mariku looked absolutely disgusted with him.
Bakura held out the knife to the sandy-blonde Yami. "I don't want this. You can have it if you want it." Mariku angrily snatched it away. Bakura walked over to the park bench across the way. He laid down and watched his breath dance on the wind until he finally nodded off.
Marikut sat down in the snow and stared at the knife. It seemed to be well-cared for. He glanced over at Bakura, and saw the blood still oozing from the sleeve of his coat.
He pulled his sleeve back, wondering how it would feel, and dug the blade into his own flesh. "I understand," he thought as he tore further down his arm and watched the wonderful crimson come free from within.
"What the-" Malik stopped in his tracks. "What is it?" Ryou turned and looked back at him. "Are you….? Mariku…" he whispered and bolted off with Ryou running after him and catching up.
Bakura's eyes opened slightly as he stared off in Mariku's direction. He noticed that Mariku was copying his example.
"Now do you understand?"
Mariku had gone mad in his new addiction. He continued to cut himself. Bakura padded over to Mariku and sampled a taste of his blood. The tomb keeper's clothing was now steeped in his blood. Bakura took the knife and used his dark magic to heal the minor cuts Mariku was giving himself.
"You shouldn't do it in mass amounts. You could kill yourself," he explained to Mariku. The Sandy-blonde stared at his newfound scars with delight. He quickly grabbed for the knife, beginning the addictive process all over again. Bakura stole it away and put it in his pocket where Mariku couldn't easily get to it, now that Bakura was aware of his intentions.
Mariku backed up against the nearest tree, his breathing had become much heavier and his eyes were wide. He had addiction written all over his face.
"I….need that knife…" he thought. "G-Give me back the knife," he muttered.
"I think you are done for today." Bakura stepped back. "I-I don't need your…knife…" Mariku whispered loud enough for Bakura to hear. He then disappeared leaving behind a print of his body in the snow.
Mariku appeared back at his mansion. He ran to the kitchen and searched frantically for a knife of some kind that was sharp enough for the job.
Bakura could feel that something bad was about to happen. He was quick to get back to the mansion of the other Yami. He ran in and saw pots, pans, and other such kitchen items being thrown from the kitchen.
"God damn it! Stop it, Mariku!"
Mariku ran by with a rather large chefs knife in hand. He bolted up the numerous flights of stairs, down the many corriders, and into his master bedroom; all with Bakura trailing behind him. The sandy-blonde locked the double doors of his bedroom and leaned against them with the knife, cutting into himself once again. The dripping crimson was absorbed into the pure white carpet.
Bakura loudly beat on the locked doors. "You know, if you keep doing this that you might die, you stupid bastard!"
"I can't stop…" Mariku chanted in a dulled tone. "Its so addictive…such pleasure," he said more loudly that it could be heard beyond the doors of his room.
"You can find other ways of feeling pleasure," Bakura commented and left him to do as he pleased. He flopped down on the Futon in front of the biggest television screen he had seen yet, and flipped through the endless number of channels.
Mariku floated up to the ceiling where he could not be interrupted. He continued to mutalate his body. He began to feel faint, but that wasn't about to stop him.
Bakura could feel the heavy burning sensation running throughout his own body. "You should stop now!" He yelled as louldy as possible.
Malik and Ryou walked in through the front door just as Bakura made his last comment. "Bakura?" Malik said a little shocked to see him in the house. "What are you doing here?"
"I came back here…you should tell Mariku to stop being an ass."
"An ass?" Malik echoed, and looked back at Ryou with a puzzled look.
A large crash suddenly ran throughout the house. Malik jumped a little and looked around as if a shot had just been fired.
"He won't stop cutting himself. He has no control whatsoever, does he?"
Malik bolted up the stairs. He burst into the room, breaking through the locked doors and was horrified to see what he did. His Yami had fallen onto his wooden dresser, smashing it to bits and pieces, and he was unconscious and drenched in blood.
Malik pulled him from the broken pile of wood and held him close. "Mariku," he screamed, pulling him even closer. Ryou's hands were clasped over his mouth and tears rested in his eyes, just waiting to errupt.
Bakura came walked into the room and leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. Malik glared daggers at him. "You stupid bastard! How could you let him do this?" Malik yelled from across the room. Tears flooded form his light purple orbs.
"My god, it wasn't my fucking fault! I told him to stop, but he wouldn't!" Bakura retorted. Malik laid Mariku down gently and charged at Bakura, blinded by his hatred for the tomb robber. He threw several punches, but none fazed Bakura even the slightest. "You could have physically stopped him, but instead you went to watch tv!"
Bakura pushed him to the ground and hovered over him. "If he won't fucking listen to me, then he obviously doesn't give a damn about what I have to say."
Well, I am just going to leave you hanging there. Don't worry, there is more, but I wanted to see how badly you people wanted the chapter. Plz RxR! Peace, love, and padded walls.