Chapter Fourteen: Intoxication

Malik POV

The night was long, and young. I was on the balcony, where most of the servants usually stayed, to help shade the large windows. No one was here now. The banquet hall was below me, and faintly, I could hear the orchestra perform every song that Bakura had composed.

Masquerade…paper faces on parade…

Masquerade…Hide your face so the world will never…find you.

Someone came up from behind me. I could feel their breath on my neck, but before I could turn around, Bakura had gently laid a hand on my shoulder. I paused.

"And what, may I ask," asked Bakura softly, "are you doing here all alone, prince?"

I paused, and slowly turned around, raising my face to meet his. Soft, concerned red eyes glowed at me from behind the black half-mask.

Masquerade! Every face a different shade!

Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!

I smiled softly, and returned to gazing up at the stars. Bakura slowly sat down beside me, and watched me inquiringly as I took my time. He could be such a gentleman, at times.

"Just…star-gazing," I said, quietly. Bakura nodded softly, and sat closer to me.

"Why aren't you downstairs…dancing?" he asked. I smiled and lowered my gaze down to my lap, fiddling with my clothes.

Flash of mauve, splash of puce

Fool and king, ghoul and goose

Green and black, queen and priest

Face a rogue, face a beast.

I watched the people below me dancing, their skirts swirling, their costumes flashing. The entire ballroom was a sight to behold, with exactly what Bakura had written in his lyrics… fool and king, queen and priest…

I looked up again, and saw that Bakura was very close to me. His eyes held a certain quiet voice about them, as though in this one moment in time, he was at his most peaceful, serene self. I wondered if it was his most vulnerable one too, as normally, he was loud and brash and cold and sarcastic to defend himself.

I subconsciously scooted closer to him. No, I was wrong. Maybe he was this way because he finally discovered that he didn't have to defend himself anymore.

Faces!

Take a turn, take a ride!

On a merry-go-round

In an inhuman race!

I was still quiet, but he was being polite enough to not question me. Strangely, I felt mostly at peace…my heart was at rest, my soul in tranquility. And by his side, I felt nothing else but serenity.

Hesitantly, as though even slightly unsure, Bakura's hand slowly eased over mine, and gripped it lightly. I knew he had expected me to recoil, but just as how I gained his trust in letting me see his face, I ensured that trust by tightening my hand in his.

I looked up and gave him a tender smile. His eyes were flashing bewilderedly, like all the times they did when he was confused or unsure of his own doing. However, his smile showed all of the joy and confidence he needed, and I was happy.

Eye of gold, true is false

Who is who?

Curl of lip, swirl of gown,

Ace of hearts, face a clown.

"You seemed busy," I said, very softly. I felt my eyes fall, half-lidded as I gazed at him fondly. My heart began to beat in loud but peaceful rhythms. Bakura gave me a curious look through his half-mask.

"So?" he asked, but his voice was void of bitter sarcasm. He gripped my hand firmly. "What does that have to do with anything?"

My smile broadened into a wide grin, and scooting closer, I cuddled close to him. Many a nights had I done this; held him close to me, nourished his broken heart and his shattered dreams. Bakura acknowledged me and cuddled closer too…so close that our bangs swept and intermingled with each other's and his nose just barely skimmed my cheek.

And his lips just an inch above mine…

I raised my hand and gently caressed his masked cheek. "Well…I just wanted to dance with you."

"Just with me?" Bakura repeated, so softly, so surprised. "Really?"

I nodded. "Really."

Bakura lowered his head, and our lips just grew half an inch closer. He closed his eyes.

"You could've asked," Bakrua whispered. "I was worried when I didn't see you in the crowds."

I giggled lightly, and nuzzled him softly. "You were worried about me?"

He chuckled and held me close. "But of course…"

I smiled and closed my eyes too.

I was…truly glad for the light that I had introduced him with. No longer was he cold, hard or cruel. I had seen past his true mask; the one he wore in fear, in defense. The bitter, cold mask that he wore of stone…the one that everyone was afraid to touch, afraid to look past.

I had looked past. And what had I found? A boy… a beautiful boy who was truly talented. A happy boy, a young boy, an energetic boy, who played with me, talked with me, laughed with me.

A boy I loved.

"Malik?"

I looked up, and saw Bakura gazing me in a way that for a moment, I thought I was looking in a mirror. That same, loving gaze…I smiled.

"Yes, Bakura?"

Bakura began to look uncertain, but I knew what he wanted. After so long, I finally learned.

I had looked past his mask, and I liked what I found.

When our lips embraced, Bakura made no move to tear away from me. His lips were so soft, so supple against mine, and for that beautiful moment, I was certain that there was no magic greater than our love that night.

Faces!

Drink it in, drink it up

Till you've drowned in the light,

In the sound

But who can name the face?

We spent some of the night dancing together, drinking in each other's presence and gazes in the most romantic setting ever. I was dancing with such a beautifully handsome, splendid lord. He was dancing with me, a young tomb-keeper who had nothing to offer except myself.

But I guess my presence was all he needed.

Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!

Masquerade! Take your fill of the spectacle around you!

Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!

Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!

We danced, people stared, but no one hissed at Bakura in contempt any longer. As I gazed deeply in his eyes as he swept me about, I came to realize that he didn't care about them anymore either.

I raised my hand to his bare cheek, and gave it a soft kiss. He was quiet, so touched, touched beyond words, I knew. I felt his lips tremble in an attempt to control his tears, and to help him, I gave them a kiss too.

Masquerade! Seething shadows, breathing lies!

Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you!

Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes!

Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you!

Knowing that he loved me too made my heart swell. In content, I rested my head on his chest, as we listened to everyone else singing and dancing.

"What a night!"

"What a crowd!"

"Makes you glad!"

"Makes you proud!"

"All the crème de la crème…"

"Watching us and watching them…"

I raised my head, and reading his eyes, I nodded. Bakura and I smiled at each

fondly, and hand in hand, we left the ballroom, and began to run down the privacy of the hallways.

All our fears are in the past

Three years of relief

Of delight!

We ran down the empty hallways, laughing and giggling so happily, with the ballroom music in the backround. We danced drunkenly and swirled randomly, too happy in each other's presence to give a damn about anything else.

Of Elysian peace!

And we can breathe at last!

No more notes, no more ghost

Here's a health, here's a toast

To a prosperous, to our friends, who are here….

Bakura, grinning so happily, grabbed me around the waist and hurled me up in the air. I gave a squeal, loving this game ever since I was a child. I looked down on him lovingly as he twirled me about. I bent down and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

And may the splendor never fade!

What a blessed release!

And what a masquerade!

He put me down, and I quickly grabbed his hand in mine excitedly. In the secrecy of the hallways, he had given me a diamond ring he had made himself. I was touched beyond words.

"Think of it," I sang, "a secret engagement! Look, your future bride. Just think of it!"

He said nothing, and I pushed him lightly. "But, why is it a secret? What have we to hide? You promised me."

Bakura looked at me, a slightly regretful look in his eyes. I knew, of course. Regardless of engagement or not, Bakura was still afraid that someone would hurt him…hurt me… hurt us.

"Please Malik...Just pretend..."

"Bakura, you're free..."

"Malik..."

"It's engagement! Not a crime...Bakura,what are you...afraid of?"

"Malik, let's not argue…" he sang to me.

"Let's not argue," I agreed. "Please pretend…"

"I can only hope…"

"You will understand in time," we both sang at the same time. He smiled at me, and I smiled back at me. Rather than thinking about the engagement, both of us hurried quickly to the basements.

Our love conquered the rest of our senses and our logic. As the music continued above us, Bakura and I found ourselves in one of the servant's rooms, and without even much ado, I was crushed up the wall, and Bakura was against me. His hands roamed, so skillfully, so wonderfully against my skin. Our lips were locked, our hands exploring each other's body in tune to the music upstairs.

"Bakura," I once breathed, raggedly, amongst all of the music and lust. "If you keep this up…we'll…have…to…make you…a eunuch….AH!"

"For being so naughty?" Bakura panted back, groaning in pleasure.

"Y-Yes…" I panted too. "A small jar …."

"Are you sure a small jar would contain me, Malik?" Bakura grinned. I grinned back and slapped him playfully in the head.

"Obviously not," I gasped. "Bakura…I love you…"

"I…love you too….Malik…"

We swayed in tune with the music, danced the dance of lust, of love. Our hips bucked and retreated and rocked with the music, our hands found each other's, our lips never left and when they did, they found other places to kiss.

Our costumes laid forgotten on the floor, ripped and tattered, and Bakura and I found comfort in each other's warmth on the bed. The sheets slowly began to entangle between us. In one supreme act of love, I ripped of his mask, and continued making love to him, with his entire, purely naked body. No more lies, no more hiding.

I kissed and caressed his mutilated cheek, and I felt tears wetting my fingers. I broke away and licked them away as he gripped me tightly.

"No more hiding," I whispered. "I love you, Bakura."

Bakura grunted and kissed me back, straddling my hips. "I…I love you too, Malik," he whispered, his breathing ragged. "Thank you…"

Masquerade!

Paper faces on parade!

Masquerade!

Hide your face so the world will never find you!

We made our love to each other that night. In a way, it was our way of devoting ourselves to each other…we had finally realized how much we cared for one another. We had fallen in love, and there was no way we were getting back up.

But that was alright. Lying in love next to Bakura was fine too.

Masquerade! Every face a different shade!

Masquerade! Look around, there's another mask behind you!

Masquerade! Burning glances, turning heads!

Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!

As long as I loved him, nothing else mattered.

Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds!

Masquerade!

Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!

A few years passed. I was about…sixteen or seventeen when I was first taken by Bakura. After that first time, Bakura and I often found each other again and again, displaying our love in a passionate torrent of physical contact. And I loved it.

I loved him.

For the next few years, Bakura and I became unbearably close. Wherever I was, he was there. Wherever he was, I was there. I was no longer impatient with his compositions and his practice…now, I even sang along with him. My voice wasn't the greatest…it was a low alto, near tenor, but not as nice as his. Often, I wondered if Bakura ever secretly scorned me for not knowing how to sing, but if he was, he never showed it. He patiently taught me and appreciated it every time I gave it my best shot.

Masquerade became my favourite song. Bakura and I spent so much time dancing to it. It was our 'song'.

Our love grew for the next few years. We told no one of our engagement except for Rishid. It was possible that I could marry him, since I was a servant too, but Bakura knew it would be dangerous if anyone found out we were together.

We never thought that one day, our love would shatter. When I turned nineteen and he turned twenty two, our world was destroyed.

My father recently passed away before I turned nineteen. It was a sad procession for us all. Although my father had been a strict man, he was still a good father, even if he wasn't a very affectionate one. He was very down-to-earth and very serious, and often a times I had been beaten by his hand for being too carefree. Nevertheless, I had admired my father, and it was sad to let him go.

I was too sad about father's death to realize that I was to be the next tomb keeper. My initiation was to be in the next few days, on my birthday. When I remembered, I was terrified, and burst into tears, wailing for Bakura.

Bakura had listened to my anguish, his eyes sharpening and his face set in silence. Although he said nothing and comforted me with his hands, I knew he was boiling inside. He had always thought that the initiation was absolutely barbaric…just as keeping slaves and having harems was equally barbaric.

"Oh, legalized rape is the done thing here, is it?" he once said bitterly to Nadir. "A man can take an innocent woman to bed and call it custom? What a country!"

As he held me, I felt his hands begin to shake. As he grew, his temper with other people seemed to darken. I wasn't sure what had changed; he was very kind to me, but strangely enough, he hated the priests, especially the one named Akunadin.

"Please don't do anything to them," I pleaded to him. Throughout the years, his body had grown from skeletal to handsomely built. He was now very tall, and very big too. His shoulders were broad and strong, his calves were rapid quick and strengthened from jumping from tall places all the time. He was even more toned than me.

When I had turned nineteen, everyone realized that Bakura and I, although we were adults when we met, were no longer little children. Bakura was now a man, a very piercingly handsome man, and very strong.

"What makes you think I'll do anything?" he asked, though his voice was hard and rough with hatred.

"Bakura, please," I pleaded through my tears. "I know about the dancing boy…"

"It was an accident," Bakura said shortly. He raised my face to him. "You had given me life. I can't stand here knowing that you are going to be hurt and I can do nothing about it. I must protect you."

I shook my head tearfully. "There's nothing you can do, Bakura," I whispered, fingering the ring that hung from my neck. I lowered my head. "They don't know that we love each other. If…If I become tomb-keeper, I'll have to marry a woman…a woman I don't love!"

Bakura's arms tightened around me at that. He quickly grasped my tear-streaked face and forced me to look at him.

"No," he said firmly. "I won't let that happen. We'll run away together. We'll run far away. We'll elope!"

"But Bakura," I sobbed, "they'll find us. And if they find us, they'll kill us! They'll kill you…"

"No one can catch me," Bakura assured. "I am a magician, I am a thief. I'm the King of Thieves, Malik, and I promise they won't catch us." He gave me a kiss on the lips. "I love you."

He had grown to say those three words easily from his lips. Easily and sincerely. I choked back on my tears and kissed him back.

"I love you too."

Bakura POV

For the next few months, I prepared for our miraculous escape. Rishid, who had always wished to be a tomb keeper, offered to take Malik's place. We decided that Rishid was to dress as Malik and lead the procession to the initiation, while I went to get Malik and we were to run away. I had set up a boat as an escape route distraction for the guards, for surely they'd think we went the easiest route, which was to go down the Nile.

Instead, Malik and I were to take an Arabian caravan up to Morocco, and leave boat there. We were going to sail to Greece and hide in Rome, and soon, thereafter, we were going to go to Persia.

Nadir offered his hand in help. He gave us his key and possessions to his house in Persia, as well as his private boat. I was thankful for his friendship and when he told me, I had given him a great hug.

Nadir paused, and slowly wrapped his arms around me. "Take care, little Baku."

I was a man by then, but I knew in Nadir's eyes, I would always be a small child with hunks of bread and bulging cheeks to him. "I will Nadir," I promised. "Thank you."

With Malik's initiation slowly approaching, I had to ready myself. Anything for the boy I loved.

Months passed. Each day we feverously ended up making love, trying to ready ourselves for the long, arduous journey ahead. On the eve of Malik's birthday, Rishid and Malik dressed up as one another, and prepared themselves for the switch.

I had been outside preparing the boats and illusions when the time struck. I quickly left my bearings and returned to the palace, intent on making my ultimate theft. I quickly ran to the underground room where we always made love, and found a cloaked shadow sitting on the bed.

When I grabbed the person's wrist and took off their hood, it wasn't Malik.

…it was Rishid.

Bakura POV, present

And oh, imagine my terrible devastation when I had realized Malik had betrayed me. After interrogating Rishid, he ended up telling me that Malik had long ago left, and was undergoing his initiation in a secret, underground home made especially for him and his keepers. At first, I didn't believe Malik would betray me, but when Rishid stood and soldiers marched and surrounded us, I knew I had been had.

My heart filled with utmost rage at the idea that I had been betrayed. The soldiers kept me alive in the dungeons for a couple of years, before I was sentenced to death. They had beaten me, taunted me, ripped my mask into shreds and forced me to cut open my scar. Never once, even though I hoped, never once did Malik ever try to find me, ever said goodbye.

He had left me. For good.

Years of torture and hatred built up in my shredded heart. Once more I was confided in a cage, a wretched cage, just as I was when I first came to Egypt. Before I was to be executed, a note was sent to me. It was 'from Malik', and at first, I didn't believe it. He had remembered me? Perhaps this was a letter of apology, of love. Perhaps he still did love me…and there was some mistake.

No. When I opened the letter, a familiar score fell from its contents. Masquerade looked back up at me, ripped and shredded to pieces.

My work. My art.

Our song…

When I was brought out to be executed, I fled. I broke free and I fled. My heart was filled with anguish….great anguish!..that I immediately vowed vengeance against Malik and all he stood for. The Pharaoh was already the object of my hatred; after Malik and I fell in love, I had overheard the priest Mahaado telling the dying pharaoh what had truly happened in my village.

Slaughter. Pure, sick, manslaughter.

Taking Malik away from me; his betrayal, his love, his illusion…I channeled all my rage and hurt and bitter resentment to that. Never again did I love once more; there was no such thing as love, as I realized. No women would ever have wanted to bed me, or to love me. Neither did Malik, the wicked, sly-headed snake! To lure me into a sense of security and shatter it so!

I had given him my love! Showed him my face!

My face…

I realized then it was because of my face he left me. My face was my curse. It would never bring anyone close to me.

I fought the Pharaoh, and we battled to the bitter end. Atemu and I had never been very close, and after his father's death and Malik's disappearance, he grew to hate me as much as I hated him. In his eyes, I had taken away his only friend, and in my eyes, he had taken away my life.

But he was going down for it, yes he was.

I had died, but I wasn't defeated, no I wasn't. I remained, trapped in the Millennium Ring. Although at first to me, it was another cage, another wicked, blasted cage, I grew to fond the Shadows that remained there. They were my companions, they were my friends. They listened to me, calmed my heart, made me realize that there was no such thing as love in the world.

I grew to hate Malik even more, and ever fiber of my ancient Egypt self slowly disappeared. No longer did I wish to be something that Malik once desired…it was a wicked mirror to me. I changed; no longer was I loud, abrasive, and bold. I abandoned my habit for stealing and wishing for sunlight, and instead, found an organ and began to force myself once more into music.

My Thief King self slowly slipped away into nothingness. The young little boy with the wicked scar but bright smile was no more. No longer did his quick feet pattered the stone floors; nor his laugh echoing in the recess of my mind. I grew out my 'short' cropped hair, and with time, it grew to my waist and became soft and silky to the touch. My body was no longer wide and built and strong, made to protect boys like Malik and to guard my heart. No…I became pale once more, slender now, and my fingers more skilled than ever at composing, at tarot, at anything I had ever set my eyes to.

I abandoned my brash, rude attitude and adopted something much more wicked. I force my voice to be soft, manipulative, like a serpent's tongue licking on a delicious, forbidden apple. I held myself with a strange sense of elegance, with calm disposition, with cold, uncaring shrugs and casual smirks that showed that I no longer cared what other thought of me.

Rather than standing tall and beating the topic to the death, as I would've done with Malik before, I was now able to simply slip away into the darkness, letting the other to his or her own devices. I was my own man, my own spirit. I didn't need any more protecting.

My heart was no longer warm. It didn't need defense. Stone could stand well on its own.

Three thousand years later, I was sleeping. My composition of 'Don Juan Triumphant' had still not been completed. It was my opera, my own opera, based on my life and my world and my opium-like Shadow world. I covered my right side of my face with a white mask, knowing now why it was there. It was no monstrosity. It was fate. For when I dueled with the Pharaoh, my face had been bare.

My mother had been right. It was my scar that would begin the Shadow games, and my scar that would end it.

But neither one of us lost nor won. I still had the scar, and therefore, I still had to begin the Shadow games once more, when the time was right. Now that I was alive once more, I was determined to do that: to kill the Pharaoh and to kill Marik. I didn't need to know that Marik was Malik's reincarnation. I could already see in those amethyst eyes that once looked at me with love. But this was Malik's true self, was it not? Marik…Marik Ishtal…

I was happy living in my cold, recess of a world. It was dark, it was comforting. No longer was my face despised upon in the light. There was no light in this world. Only Darkness.

But then…

Then came Ryou.

Ryou, my precious, soft little angel. Looking in his eyes seemed to be like looking in a mirror. His identical, white ivory hair, his big brown eyes. When I had first seen him, my heart had stopped. This boy…this was the boy who had to contend with the legend of the Thief King? The Thief King who turned into what he was now…the Darkness?

I wasn't sure what drew me to him, other than how similar we resembled on another. I was curious, I wanted him. I wanted him so badly that I hadn't realized that I had neglected that feeling in my heart for 3,000 years.

So…I became his Dark Angel. I became someone that I never thought I could be, changed myself entirely from the name of the Thief King, hoping that this time, things would turn out right. That maybe he wouldn't betray me, and then, I could be satisfied.

But when I saw him with Marik, my heart refilled itself with the strange sense of coldness, of hatred.

I realized then….caressing my mask…that nothing ever turned my way. No amount of praying or worshipping could ever change my fate.

The fate of my mask, my monstrosity, my soul.

Love is like the first intoxication of morphine...

…it doesn't last very long.

Why? Why must I keep away from the edge?

…

But I wasn't going down…no, not going down…

I wasn't going to lose, not again…

…without a fight!

I certainly hope I didn't end it on a too-rushed note. I wanted to get this chapter done as soon as possible. A lot of you liked the last chapter...Yay, citronshipping! Go Thief King Bakura x Malik!

I did make it clear, right? Malik is the young, cute, big-eyed, GOOD Malik. The 'Malik' that likes Ryou is the EVIL 'Marik'. They have a story too, and I'll get to that next chapter. That one half of the story of 'Malik's betrayal' has to do with Marik, but Thief Bakura and Yami Bakrua didn't know that, which is they he was pissed.

I hope I was able to write Bakura's emotions good. He was raelly upset when he found rishid instead of Malik..could you guys tell?

READ AND REVIEW! And please, I beg of you, give me longer reviews than just "plz update!" I want to know how this story is going well for you guys...anything you like, disliek, approve of, not approve of, etc. I want to know how this story is going for you all!

HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE CHATPER!