Downfall
By: Rogue Fox
A/N: --;;; Alright. 131 hits, and five reviews? How does that work? I'm seriously considering withholding the next chapter until I get enough reviews. It's written and ready to go… Really, guys, there's a reason we have reviews! It's so writers can get better with the help of constructive criticism! To the people that have reviewed;
Bubble Queen Neko: I'm not sure what you mean… But I think this chapter might answer your question… I hope… I think… ;;
Rapturous Voice: Soon enough for you?
Ai Baka-San Austra: Yes, me and my cliff hangers. Gotta make sure you come back some how.
JitsaruJakara: Oo? Yes, master?
Redconvoy: This should answer your question.
Thank you all very much for your reviews. Be nice. Review. I might update again soon. Be mean, don't review… I have more constructive things to do that this… Like homework… It makes me sad that I can get 131 hits but only five reviews… vv Please help me out here. Here's the story… Really, really sad…
There are many words you could use to describe living with the Ishtars. Uneventful is not one of them. Psychotic might be more appropriate. Random also comes to mind. Unpredictable, bizarre, slightly uncomfortable, weird… Strangely enough, erotic also ends up on that list. Funny how life works, huh?
" Good morning, Ryou!" Malik chirped at me, bouncing into the kitchen. I really can't think of a better way to describe the way he moves. As a matter of fact, I think "bouncing" is really the only way to describe it.
" Good morning, Malik." I answered him as he bounced right up behind me, hugged me around my waist and kissed my cheek. Before anyone reads too much into it, this is how Malik greets everyone. Even Seto Kaiba gets a hug and kiss. I don't know how Malik got it into his head to do that, because Isis isn't very touchy-feely and his yami is quite gruff at times and although I never got to know Rashid, he didn't strike me as that type of person. But Malik is… well, I guess "flamboyant" is the only way to describe him, aside from simply saying that Malik is Malik. Malik is one of those people that the only way to describe him to someone who has never met him is by using Malik himself as an adjective. More outspoken than his yami, more sentimental than his sister… He's really just a strange little bundle of emotions that I couldn't help but love.
" Whatcha making?" he asked, propping his head on my shoulder and keeping his arms around my waist. I leaned back against his chest and tried very, very hard not to think about the fact that a very attractive Malik was pressed against my body very intimately. I was just responding to Malik the way he liked to be responded to; affectionately.
" Pancakes." I said.
" They smell kinda funny." Malik said, sniffing at the pancake on the griddle over my shoulder. I smiled at him, watching his expression out of the corner of my eyes.
" That one's a banana pancake." I said.
Can't you see that it's just rainin'?
There ain't no need to go outside.
But baby, you hardly even notice
When I try to show this
Song is meant to keep you
From doing what you're supposed to
Like waking up too early
Maybe we could sleep in
I'll make you banana pancakes" Banana? Pancake? That sounds weird." He told me, looking me square in the eye. I chuckled at his serious expression.
" And that's because they're Bakura's favorite." I told him. I do call my yami Bakura to avoid confusion. Malik calls his own yami Marik and both of us called them other names before we heard the word "yami," since neither of us speak Japanese as our native tongue. Yugi is the only one who initially referred to his other self as Yami, and so, the name stuck. Malik laughed out loud.
" Bakura likes banana pancakes!" he yipped, running out of the kitchen and through the house, giggling and chanting that Bakura liked banana pancakes. I leaned out the kitchen door to watch the show, and waited. Sure enough, right as Malik went by Isis's bedroom, a shoe flew out and hit him dead in the head.
" You woke me up you little brat!" Isis screeched.
" Ow! That hurt! Marik!" Malik yelped in pain. Marik came thundering down the stairs.
" What? I'm in the middle of something very important!" He bellowed.
" Isis threw her shoe at me!" Malik wailed, sitting on the floor with a hand to his head and pointing at Isis room, like a child. I could just see Marik glare at him, to which Malik responded by pouting a little harder.
" Gods above, why I subject myself to this, I don't know…" Marik muttered, turning to the door and approaching said room. Just then, Isis stuck her head out and gave him the most threatening "go to hell and die a thousand bloody deaths on the way" look I'd ever seen. At which point, Marik, all of at least six foot four and over two hundred pounds of what certainly looked like pure muscle, put his hands up and backed slowly away. " You're on your own, hikari." He said, the turned tail and ran. May I remind you that I stand at about five foot two or so and Isis is only an inch or so taller. Isis looked down at Malik, who was still sitting on the floor but whose pout had rapidly become an expression of sheer terror.
" Be. Quiet." She snarled at him. Malik made a small noise, and I quote it to be:
" Eep!" and scurried off. Isis, satisfied, ducked back into her room and slammed the door.
" Did someone say banana pancakes?" my own yami hollered down the stairs, and I could hear Isis growl all the way in the kitchen.
" Ooh! Banana pancakes!" Marik cried, coming barreling into the kitchen. I laughed at his eager expression.
" There's some ready over there but leave some for 'Kura!" I said.
" Ooh, yay! And the syrup's even warm!" Marik cried. He looked at me with tearful eyes. " Ryou is so good to us…" I felt myself blush and laughed his praise off.
" Just leave some for Bakura." I repeated, turning back to the griddle. My own yami came running in and set a record time for buttering his syruping and his own pancakes. Malik came bouncing (again with the word, I just can't think of anything better) into the room and latched onto Marik.
" Can I try a bite, please?" he asked. Marik held up a bite on his fork and Malik snatched it with his mouth. I watched him swallow and make a face. " I don't think I like banana pancakes." Both the present yamis stared at him as though he had suddenly sprouted a second head.
Pretend like it's the weekend now
And we could pretend it all the time
Can't you see that it's just rainin'
There ain't no need to go outside.
But just maybe, hala ka ulelele
Mama made a baby,
I really don't mind the practice
Cause you're my little lady
Lady, lady, love me
Cause I love to lay here lazy
We could close the curtains
Pretend like there's no worries outside" Don't worry, Malik, I made you some with strawberries." I said, setting the plate in front of him. I was rewarded by a very enthusiastic hug. Strawberries were Malik's favorite.
" Yay! Ryou is so good to me!" he cried. I smiled as I watched him attack his food.
As I said. Unpredictable, psychotic, random, bizarre, weird… But never uneventful.
As I watched Malik, I thought back to his storm of pain and tears the week before. Malik is the kind of person who never does anything halfway. If Malik wants strawberry pancakes, he has enough to feed a small country. If Malik likes an author, he buys all the books by that author. If Malik likes a song, he finds the name of the singer and buys every single CD by that singer. If Malik is happy, then everyone and everything with eyes and ears is completely aware of it. He jumps and yells and hugs people and makes a general ruckus. But if Malik is sad… You can't help but know when Malik is sad. The lack of noise is enough to set off alarm bells. That, and Malik can't hide what he's feeling worth a damn. The only thing I've ever seen him successfully hide is his attraction to my yami. Speaking of the other me… He was blissfully unaware of the longing looks Malik cast him when he thought no one was watching. He was unaware of the color that rose in Malik's cheeks when he did something flirtatious. Or, if he was aware, then he was being even more cruel than I thought he could be. He didn't seem to be aware, though, of the way Malik hung off his every word. It pained me. It pained me in a way I never would have thought it would. Naturally, I hurt for my own yami who would eventually become aware of Malik's attraction and be faced with a rather cruel decision. I also hurt for Malik, knowing that this would inevitably lead to his complete and total heartbreak. But also, way back in the very back of my mind and heart… I also felt just a tiny bit jealous. A very, very tiny bit, but jealous nonetheless. But there was no way Malik could have known that… I never told anyone, and thankfully, neither did Bakura. And if Malik had known, somehow, I doubted he would have allowed himself to develop feelings for my yami. Malik is very considerate of those around him, and very, very loving to the people he cares for.
I got stuck doing the dishes, of course, while Malik went up to his room and my yami went out for some reason he chose not to disclose and Marik settled into "his" recliner (actually, it belonged to my dad, but it was much to big for me and my yami shunned anything associated with my father, and good luck getting Malik to stay sitting for any amount of time, so Marik claimed it) to watch TV. After I finished the dishes, I went into the living room and sat on the arm of the recliner, listening to it groan in protest while Marik sniffed.
" You smell like dish soap." He told me.
" That's because I just did all your dishes." I said. Marik smirked, still watching the TV.
" You're such a housewife, Ryou."
" I am no such thing." I calmly retorted while the tan yami chuckled. " What are you watching?"
" I don't know. Sounds English, and the English I know is way different." He told me.
" It's American." I told him.
" And that would be why I can't understand a bloody word. Gods above, they mutilated that language." He muttered, shaking his head.
" When did you learn to speak English?" I asked. I'd never really gotten the chance to really get to know Marik. He'd always been the kind of obscure big-brother figure in the background. He really reminded me of a big brother, calmly watching all our lives and predicting what would happen next and occasionally manipulating the situation to better benefit one of us, particularly Malik.
" I don't fucking know, hikari." Marik said loosely. His words would have told me to shut up, but his tone was warm and comforting, like he was pleased with my interest. " Couple centuries back, I guess. You're the one that taught me… I never was good with dates… I can't remember what year it was."
" A couple of centuries ago, English would have been radically different than it is now." I said. Marik made a noise in his throat and reached up, wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me off the arm of the chair into his lap. I looked up into his smiling eyes, a little afraid and more than a little confused.
" That's what sucks about being immortal. Things always change." He told me softly. " Except for you, and Malik and Yugi. You three stay the same." He paused and nuzzled my hair. " So soft… It's good to know that no matter how much things change, you'll always be just like I remember you. It's comforting. So sweet and understanding… You worry too much, little Ryou."
" I do?" I asked, unable to stop my self from leaning into his gentle nuzzles and caresses and purring just a little. There wasn't anything seductive or romantic about it. Malik had told me Marik sometimes acted like this. Soft and cuddly. I thought of Malik telling me that he just needed someone to hold onto. I supposed that everyone needs someone to hold onto, sometimes.
" Yes, you do. Don't fret your pretty little head and don't break your fragile little heart. Malik will work his way through it, he always does." Marik told me, nudging his nose against my cheek. I pushed back against him, returning his gentle caresses for my own as I looked up into his eyes questioningly. " Yes, I know. I always know with Malik. He's starved for love, the poor child, and it's gotten so that he's wanting the kind of love I simply can't give him." He explained to me. " Bakura has been kind to him. That's new to my poor hikari. He misinterpreted it. Yes, Malik will eventually be hurt, and yes, Bakura will eventually have to hurt him. Yes, it's painful to watch, and yes, I want to do something to prevent it or make it a little easier for them both just as much as you. But neither of us can. It isn't our place, it's not our hearts, not our lives. This is something Malik has to work through on his own, and he will, and he'll come out on the other side no worse for the wear. A little wiser, but not scarred."
" And what about Bakura?" I asked. I knew Malik would be alright; he was resilient. But my yami had already suffered so much…
" Bakura… his pain is a little more complex." Marik said, wincing as though pained. " There are things that have made all this bearable for each of us. For me, it was you hikaris. All three of you are my greatest joy, and watching you grow and learn and love has been my blessing, and I thank the gods for it every day. It's only recently that I've remember how much I love watching you three." I smiled into his warm eyes. " This has not been a good life for any of us. Other lives, other places, other times… it's been easier. This has been the hardest. Amsterdam was the best. A whole lifetime of just the six of us, going where we wanted when we wanted. Bakura, Yami, and I… we all remembered everything there was to remember. I knew more about myself then than I do now. And you three… You had the prettiest blue eyes, Ryou, and Malik and Yugi didn't look too much different than they do now, but Yugi was a redhead with green eyes. Malik was a little paler. A whole life. But… There was a plague. Malik was the first to go." I watched as Marik's face seemed to collapse in the remembered pain. " I don't remember much after that, it all got so hazy. But the plague was bad. The people who caught it died horrible deaths, screaming in agony. I'll never forget the screams… Malik's screams. My precious little hikari's screams. Even in the shadows, I never forgot those screams. You died soon after… But you didn't catch the plague. You just kind of gave up. Bakura kept you alive as long as he could but… Then Yami died, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Bakura went mad. Yami died from the plague, but when he died, Bakura screamed instead. Yami didn't scream, not once. He whimpered, cried out, even moaned, but never screamed. I never thought I'd see the day when the King of Thieves screamed like that. I never wanted to. People were desperate, things were so bad, and a man came up and tried to steal Yami's clothes and Bakura attacked him… I don't remember, I think that's what happened. Somehow or another, I wound up getting stabbed, and that was how I died. Yugi died just after me, I think he committed suicide. Bakura was the last one to survive. I don't know what happened. After I remember Amsterdam at all… You see, the plague was so horrible that it clogged our memories. I don't remember everything anymore. Yami remembers only that precious little we managed to recover. But Bakura… Somehow or another, that sadistic yami of your remembered every single awful thing there was to remember, and it fucked him up. He's coming back, back to how he used to be, but it was only after I started to remember things. After I remembered what happened in Amsterdam, I tried to ask Bakura what happened, but he wouldn't talk about it. You see… Yami and Bakura were in love." I mulled this over; I wasn't all that surprised.
" I always though he acted weird around Yami." I said. Marik laughed.
" Crazy little bastard. Yeah, he does. For a while, though, all he remembered was the bad shit. The stuff about Egypt and Kul Elna were all he knew, and that was all he cared about… Revenge. To carry out the wish of the man who split his soul to give birth to you and Bakura. But that man was more than the negativity that resided in Bakura, he realizes this now. That man had other emotions, love and compassion and humor… He must have really liked to cook." I grinned. " And Bakura knows now that to ignore those emotions would be to dishonor the memory of a man who, if nothing else can be said of him, was great. He did great things. Some terrible, some wonderful, but great things. My memories of Egypt still need to be recovered. But, after Egypt, somewhere in the number of lives we've had since then, Yami and Bakura managed to overcome their past and fall in love. What happened in Amsterdam was beyond anyone's control, but… In the course of a few weeks, a relationship that took thousands of years to build was utterly wiped out. Yami doesn't remember any of it, now, but Bakura does. It hurts him."
" I suppose he can't just tell Yami. That'd be too easy." I grumbled, curling closer to Marik and burying my face in his neck.
" Not only that, but do you think Yami would believe him?" Marik asked, smoothing my hair.
" No, I suppose not." I conceded.
" It's a conclusion about one's life that one must come to all by one's self. Love is, I mean." Marik told me as I sat up and looked him in the eye. " It's not something you can define to anyone else. Only you, yourself, can know what it means to be in love. No one else can tell you. If Bakura were to tell Yami that they were in love once, Yami would immediately be on the defensive. How dare Bakura do that? It infringes on every right Yami has as a human being. His free will, his right to pursue happiness… everything. Bakura would be trying to force a past on Yami that Yami doesn't remember, and so, as far as Yami is concerned, isn't real. On the other hand, if Bakura were to confess his love to Yami, leaving past events out entirely for the moment, Yami would just be confused. He might push Bakura away, he might accept him just to avoid hurting him… either way would turn out painfully for all involved parties. Of course, human beings are unpredictable, but Yami, being Yami, has a limited number of reactions to any given situation. But, I digress. The point is that love is an answer to its own question. You can't put a label on it, or a price tag, and you can't force it on someone. You have to come to that conclusion all on your own. You alone can decide what it means, how much it's worth, how far you're willing to go in its name. In essence, you can't truly love someone else until you truly know and understand yourself."
" Does Bakura not truly know himself?" I asked.
" He did, but he lost himself in Amsterdam. I think a lot of him died with you and Yami." Marik mused. " But, little hikari, such thoughts are for philosophers, not for a yami and a hikari not his own. It's nice outside, care to come for a walk? We'll talk of cabbage and kings." He offered me. I smiled and slid off his lap.
" No, thank you. I really should get started dusting. Thank you, though. I'd love to talk about cabbage and kinds with you some time." I said. Marik laughed.
" I knew you'd get that allusion, Ryou." He noted, turning toward the door.
" Marik?" I called after him, and he turned back to me.
" Yes, little one?" he responded gently.
" Do you really know yourself?" I asked.
" No." Marik answered, smiling softly at me. " But I'm learning."
" Does Malik?" I asked.
" Most definitely not." Marik said with a chuckle, turning and heading out the door, closing it with a resolute slam.
" Do I know myself?" I asked the empty room. " Probably not." I answered myself. I wasn't even sure what love was. I sighed and headed up the stairs to change find my dusting stuff. I don't keep it upstairs; I keep it downstairs in the kitchen. Which is why I was almost positive that it wasn't there. Nothing stays where it was put as long as Malik is around, especially cleaning things. Sure enough, I found the stuff under the bathroom sink. How or why it got there, I wasn't sure, nor was I asking. On my way back downstairs, I stopped and rapped softly on Malik's bedroom door. Funny. He'd only been there a week and I already thought of it as his room.
" Come on in." Malik called. I answered by turning the door knob. Malik was laying on his back, hands behind his head, on his bed, listening some really mellow music.
And we could pretend it all the time
Can't you see that it's just raining
There ain't no need to go outside
Ain't no need, ain't no need,
Can't you see, can't you see
Rain all day and I don't mind" Hey, Ryou." Malik said, smiling at me. His smile seemed a little strained. I remembered Marik telling me not to worry, and I tried not to.
" Hi, Malik, I was wondering if you wanted to help me dust?" I asked. Normally, I wouldn't have bothered asking anyone for help. But Malik is not normal.
" Dusting? Alright! Of course! Tell me where to start!" he jumped off his bed and hopping excitedly in front of me. I smiled at him. Only Malik would get so excited about dusting. I only asked him because he would actually feel left out if I didn't.
" Why don't we start in the living room?" I asked him. I wondered why I felt so warm when he smiled that smile, the real smile. The smile that said he was truly happy, not just pretending for the sake of the people around him.
" Okay!" he squealed, grabbing a rag from my outstretched hand and running down the stairs. I followed him at a slower pace, only to be tackled into a hug at the bottom of the stairs.
" Ryou really is so good to me!" Malik squealed, squeezing me a little too enthusiastically. " You're so awesome, Ryou! You really are good for me! I haven't been this happy in so long! I love you, Ryou!" and with that said, Malik Ishtar kissed me full on the mouth, put me down, and went skipping into the living room. I knew that Middle Eastern culture was a little different from British culture where kissing was concerned. I wasn't sure if it was that different. I put two fingers to my lips and felt a thick red blush creeping up my neck. Surely, Malik didn't mean that the way I interpreted it. Malik is just a very, very friendly person, I told myself. Malik is a borderline flirt. That's just the way Malik is. He didn't mean anything by it. He didn't. Did he? And do I want him to?
I couldn't possible have a crush on Malik, could I?
Telephone singing, ringing, it's too early
Don't pick it up
We don't need to
We got everything we need right here
And everything we need is enough
It's just so easy,
When the whole world fits inside of your arms
Do we really need to pay attention to the alarm
Wake up slow, wake up slow