Thank you for all your wonderful reviews! And to those of you who asked about pairings- sorry, but you'll just have to wait and see! That's part of the story, you know. Read, enjoy, and review!
CHAPTER FOUR
Wednesday after handing in their bothersome World Geography projects, Malik once again found himself at Ryou's house. Sitting at the dining room table with his usual sliver of chocolate cake, Malik watched Ryou do his homework. He leaned across the table, spoon in hand, to look at Ryou's math notebook. "Hey, Ryou."
Ryou looked up, used to Malik's random and irrelevant interruptions by now. "What?"
"Why are you doing math problems from a twelfth-grade workbook?"
Ryou snapped the book shut. "Never mind."
"Sorry, sorry." Malik held up his hands apologetically. "If you don't want to, you don't have to answer anything."
Ryou decided that he'd had enough of schoolwork for the day. He got up and moved toward the living room. "Wanna play a game?"
Five minutes later, they had settled themselves on the floor around the coffee table, a game of Othello on the table before them. The game, an involved one that took them the better part of an hour to play, ended with Ryou as the winner.
While they waited for Yugi, who was going to study with them for a Literature test to arrive, Ryou picked up a book. Malik seemed content fiddling with something small he'd picked up from the table. Ryou was deeply engrossed in his book, so Malik caught him completely by surprise when he dropped his bombshell.
"Hey Ryou, wanna screw?"
Ryou's mouth opened and closed a few times in shock. His book lay forgotten in his lap and his heartbeat tripled its rate. His face turned red, embarrassment blossoming in his cheeks. "What?!"
"I said," Malik repeated patiently, holding out his hand, "do you want a screw?"
Ryou stared at the small, silver screw that lay in Malik's palm. "Good God Malik, don't do that to me!" he gasped, just as the doorbell rang. Ryou rushed over to get it, but was followed by Malik's voice.
"But Ryou, screws are good! What would you do without screws in your bed, for example?"
Ryou stood with the door open, his face scarlet. "Shut up, Malik!"
Yugi was staring at him in wide-eyed disbelief.
"It's not what you think!" Ryou gasped at him. Malik strolled over to the door, a mischievous smile on his face.
"Hey Yugi, you appreciate screws, don't you?"
At that, Yami took over and grabbed Malik by the collar. "What the hell do you think you're saying to my hikari!" he spat.
Malik innocently held up the screw. "It's a screw, see. Do you want it?"
"A screw," Yami repeated numbly, staring at it.
"Yes," Malik said. "Wonderful things, screws. They hold stuff together really well. Like your closet or the dining room table, for example."
Ryou snatched it out of Malik's hand. "I'll take that."
Malik grinned at him and gave him a quick hug, before running back into the living room calling out, "Yay, Ryou took the screw!"
Ryou and Yami exchanged a long, expressive look.
"Maybe he's smoking something," Ryou suggested timidly. "He sounds totally wonked."
"I think you're right," Yami muttered, as he followed him into the living room.
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Thankfully, Malik seemed to have calmed down a bit by the time Yugi and Ryou got to the living room. He didn't make any more perverted comments while they were taking out their books, which they took as a good sign. On the other hand, they discovered that this study session might be taking a lot longer than they thought, because Malik had a thing against literature. He persisted in pointing out all the reasons why what they were studying was stupid and unrealistic, and made fun of everything he possibly could.
"I can't believe they call this literature," Malik grumbled, waving the thin paperback through the air. "This has got to be the stupidest short story in existence!"
"Malik," Ryou sighed, "it's a commentary on the materialism rampant in today's society."
"It's a story about a delusional boy who thinks his piggy bank is a real pig."
"He doesn't think it's a real pig," Yugi protested.
"He talks to it," Malik said. "That is not normal."
"You're missing the point of the story," Yugi said. "The pig symbolizes-"
"Yeah, I know. Friendship, unconditional love, contrast with the nasty father, blah blah blah." He slumped down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. "I hate this."
"We hadn't noticed," Ryou said dryly. "Look, the test is tomorrow, so you'll be getting over with it soon. Besides, all you need to do is spout a few pages of nareshkite-"
"What?" Yugi and Malik asked.
"It means nonsense. Just pretend you know what you're talking about and everything will be fine. So can we please get on with studying, so we can finish today!?" he looked pointedly at Malik.
With a tragic sigh, Malik put down his book. "I'll just listen to you two," then, in an undertone, "I hate literature."
They finished studying around 21:00. Malik was ecstatic that they were finally done, even though it hadn't really taken them that long. Before he and Yugi left, Malik gave Ryou a goodbye peck on the cheek. He smiled brightly. "Thanks for tolerating me." Yugi looked at him oddly, and Ryou stood paralyzed in shock, but Malik seemed not to notice.
"Let's go! See you tomorrow, Ryou," he called, dragging Yugi out the door.
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"You know, if you put as much energy into studying literature as you did refuting it, you'd have a much better time with it," Yugi commented as they walked down the road.
"But that's the only fun thing about it!"
Yugi sighed and gave up, deciding to try a different track.
"Where have you been, in the four months between when you came back to Domino and Battle City?"
"Why are you asking?" The slight tone change in Malik's voice alerted Yugi that something might be wrong.
"Because I worry about what happens to my friends."
"You do, don't you," Malik said softly, in a reflective tone. "I'm your friend?"
"I'd like to think so," Yugi said truthfully. "If anything is stopping you, it's not me."
"But, after everything-!" Malik blurted, then shut up.
"I believe in second chances," Yugi said, smiling at him. Malik still looked startled, but happier, too.
They were almost at his grandfather's game shop when he suddenly wondered something. "Malik," he asked, "where do you live?"
"Oh," Malik replied vaguely, waving his hand in half a dozen directions, "over that way."
"That's real specific," Yugi pointed out. "You just included all the places between Hawaii and Australia."
"I know," Malik said cheerfully. "I live in Micronesia."
They reached the game shop. "Why are you being so stubborn?"
"No reason in particular." Malik leaned forward and pulled Yugi into a quick hug, before skipping off down the road. "See ya!"
Yugi stood frozen, trying to understand what had just happened.
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Malik walked quickly, dropping the cheerful façade, hoping he wouldn't run into any thugs tonight. He really didn't feel like dealing with them right now. He could still hear Yugi's voice, 'I believe in second chances', but that also brought Bakura's words from before to mind. 'You aren't as changed as you'd like certain people to think'. He was starting to feel as if he was unworthy of Yugi's trust, as if he was hiding something from him. After all, nobody knew all the particulars of his life before he'd showed up during Battle City. He was probably quite a bit worse than they imagined. He knew that he had been bad, but in the few weeks right after the end of the tournament, he had discovered just how awful he had actually been. Even now, if he had any decency at all, he would hand himself in to the authorities and accept their punishment. His steps slowed, until he stopped moving entirely. He was a coward too, because he knew that he would never go and admit to his crimes. He was a truly disgusting person.
He heard the roar of a motor approaching quickly, and abruptly registered that he was standing in the middle of the street. He didn't move, waiting for the impact; a clean solution – he would finally get the fate he deserved.
Something barreled into him, knocking him out of the road, just as the car roared past (quite beyond the speed limit). Malik sat for a minute, dazed, wondering what had just happened.
Behind him, Bakura sat up and whacked him on the back of his head. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he yelled angrily.
"Bakura?" Malik said in surprise. The response was another smack.
"Answer me!" Bakura was surprised at how angry he was at the Egyptian. How dare Malik try to commit suicide? If anyone was going to kill him, it should be him, not some stupid drunk driver. Underneath that anger, though, was a knot of cold fear that drove him to grab Malik's shoulders and shake him, anything just to get some kind of response.
"I don't know!" Malik yelped, trying to dislodge Bakura's iron grip.
"What kind of answer is 'I don't know'?!"
"I don't know! I'm sorry, I don't know!" Malik cried, pulling away and hanging his head. "Stop hitting me."
"Quit acting like that," Bakura said, disturbed. He had never seen Malik look so pathetic before, and he sure as hell didn't like it. Malik ignored him, continuing to sit listlessly, staring at the ground.
"I really wanted to die," he whispered.
"Come on," Bakura said, dragging Malik to his feet. "I'm going to take you home. Where's your house?" Malik pointed mutely. Bakura led Malik through the streets, until Malik indicated the house that was his. Bakura could hardly believe that this was where Malik was living, but he went in anyway.
"This is it?" he asked, turning to Malik for confirmation. At the nod, he went in, up the stairs and into the apartment. He was even more shocked by the inside than he was by the outside. This wasn't where someone like Malik should be living. Malik was the kind of person who should have luxury. He could easily imagine Malik living in a palace, tall marble pillars and hieroglyphics, where he would fit right in. Here, in the very essence of the word poverty, Malik looked completely out of place. He tugged the still unresponsive boy into the single bedroom, and pushed him down on the shabby mattress.
"Stay here," he said gruffly. "I'll get you something to eat?" Without waiting for the response he knew wouldn't come, he turned and went to the kitchen.
He opened the tiny fridge, only to discover it was practically empty. There were a few tomatoes and cucumbers, several apples and a bottle of milk. He closed the fridge in disgust, turning to the cabinets. There was half a loaf of bread sitting in one, and some plates and silverware, but other than that, they were empty. He stormed back to the room and gave Malik a dirty look, before sitting next to him on the bed and running his hands up Malik's sides. He had never registered before then how thin Malik actually was.
"Do you eat?" he demanded. "No, scratch that. How much do you eat?"
Malik muttered something about cafeteria food.
"I can't believe you're trying to exist off that crap," Bakura growled. "Don't you eat at home?"
Malik refused to look Bakura in the eyes, and mentioned bread. And vegetables. And that apples were quite cheap this season.
"Fuck." Now he understood why Malik liked Ryou's cake so much. Malik probably got every single calorie he had from that cake.
On the bright side, Malik finally reacted. "Shut up!" he snapped. "I don't need you passing judgment on my lifestyle! What do you know about anything?" he added bitterly.
"I know that starvation is a nasty way to die, that's what."
"I don't care. I don't need anybody. I'm going to get through this on my own."
"The hell you are. Did you at least save some money for a nice gravestone, then?"
Malik turned away from him, flopped down on his bed and put his head under the pillow. "Go away."
"Stay here. I'm going to get you some food, I'll be back soon. Maybe I'll get you some psychiatric help on the way."
Malik sat up, his eyes burning. "Bastard!" he hissed, pouncing on Bakura and shoving him into the wall before punching him across the face. Bakura kneed him in the stomach and grabbed his neck, causing Malik to double over and choke. He shoved Malik back onto the bed roughly.
"I'll be back in a bit," he snarled, and slammed the door behind him. Malik sat up, refusing to let the tears fall, even though an angry sob had caught in his throat. Since when had his life gotten this bad?
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Bakura opened the door to Malik's apartment half an hour later, four bags of groceries in his hands. With all the money he'd had on him, he'd bought a package of flour, some sugar, a carton of eggs and some butter, a bottle of coke and anything else full of sugar he could think of. He put them away in the fridge and in the cabinet, then went to look for Malik. He stood in the doorway to Malik's bedroom and stared down at his prone figure on the mattress.
Malik, curled up around himself, was fast asleep. He looked so vulnerable, like a lost kitten. On the one hand, Bakura preferred Malik when he was full of fiery spirit, but on the other hand, he couldn't help but find this vulnerable and lost Malik very appealing. He closed the distance to the bed and bent down, staring at Malik's still face. He gently traced Malik's cheekbones with his thumb; he contemplated marveling at their softness and decided that that was too sappy.
Malik cracked open one eye. "When you're quite finished?"
"Gah!" Bakura snatched back his hand and leaped backwards, tripping over his own feet and collapsing on the floor.
"Go ahead, molest me in my sleep, why don't you?" Malik grumbled, pushing himself onto his forearms and rubbing one hand over his eyes.
"Fine," Bakura said. "Go back to sleep and I'll molest you." He got up, dusting off his pants and trying to regain his dignity.
Malik laughed a little. "You never change, do you. Ah well, it was worth being molested just to see you fall down like that. I mean, 'gah'?" he started laughing even harder.
"If I had really molested you, you'd be saying much more than just 'gah', believe me."
Malik stopped laughing. "Not funny."
Bakura now grinned. "Bakura: one. Malik: zero."
"Oh really?" Malik got up quickly. "Well, you can get out now. Go play table hockey somewhere else!"
"What?" Bakura asked bewildered. "Table hockey?" He didn't resist as Malik pushed him out of the apartment, still trying to figure out what Malik had meant. How was table hockey related to anything? He banged his fist against the wall in annoyance. What was Malik playing at?