Finally, an update! Sorry it took so long, and sorry this chappie's shorter than the others…the next chapters will be longer, promise!
Ladywolf Terri – About living with them, definitely makes sense, no? But there's still time until we get there! Biiig important things still need to happen, yep yep!
Little Q – Your review made me feel all fuzzy inside! Actually, I have this weird disease called 'plotosis', which demands that everything have a plot and a reasonable explanation yadda yadda (well, the snake was an exception…). Hence, consequences of actions. And don't worry about Malik, he'll survive the lawn mowing.
Akuryunoseiki – I promise I'll read your fic after my tests in physics, citizenship, writing, and art, k? Before then, I hardly have time to breathe….
HANDHELD Uber Rei Model 05 – Well, which melody of 'Hallelujah'? I know quite a few…glad you're enjoying!
And thanks to : Ishtar Maliku, Chibi B-channie, Lilmatchgirl007, Esprit and Tessa, Forbidden Pyro, WolfBane2, Chibichibimalik2, Dark Magician Girl /Hikaru, and Violet Dust! We love you all!
Of course, let's not forget Nehti our beta and SeventhDaughter the coauthor. You're not hearing from her so much 'cause she has a crazy school, and a sucky computer which is going cuckoo as we speak.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Malik climbed out of the car, off to another day of backbreaking, inhumane, devastating manual labor. At least Ishimura Sensei had agreed to drive him (to make sure he didn't try to shirk), which saved him having to get all across town on his own.
Malik looked up at the huge building at the end of the seemingly endless lawn he was supposed to mow, with some surprise. The large 'K.C' symbol seemed familiar, for some reason.
"Is this Kaiba Corp.?" he asked, when he finally placed the initials.
"Yes. Have a nice day!" Ishimura Sensei said nastily.
Malik dragged the Ugly Thing over to the corner of the lawn, purposely ignoring the teacher. He didn't want to find out how the authorities would react if he smashed the Ugly Thing down on someone's (namely the Evil Bastard Teacher from Hell's) head.
Malik began to mow, his mind blanking out once again, as it tended to do now that all he had to do was manual work that demanded no thought at all. Back and forth he pushed, back and forth, across the huge expanse of green grass. He had tried to make the work interesting once, but after mowing the phrase 'Ishimura is a bastard' into the lawn in front of the museum, they had threatened to double his workload if he pulled the stunt again.
Maybe I'll try drawing Kaiba's face into the lawn, he mused to himself, trying to imagine people's expressions when confronting the green face of the CEO in the grass.
On second thought, maybe he didn't want to see if Kaiba had any homicidal tendencies. Besides, he already had an enormous area to mow, and adding more to the workload would be just plain stupid.
He took a lunch break sometime during the long afternoon. Stepping into the shade of the first huge K.C building in the complex, he munched dejectedly on a Mars Bar before returning to work.
A familiar arrogant voice from the path attracted his attention. "So Ishtar, this is where you vanished to. I suppose you're enjoying finally putting your full potential to good use."
Malik's head shot up from contemplating the grass (which he was beginning to detest with a passion) to look at the brunette CEO. Kaiba stood with his hands in his pockets, a smirk stretched across his face.
Malik stared at him tiredly, his mind completely blank of any smart retort. Instead, he walked over, and as Kaiba watched him with interest, picked up and handful of grass and threw it in the general direction of Kaiba's face.
The grass didn't even come close, fluttering pathetically to the ground between them.
Kaiba raised an eyebrow. "Ah, yes. NOW I'm impressed."
Malik turned away in mock defeat. Then he swung around swiftly and, catching them both by surprise, leaped at the CEO. They fell in an undignified tangle to the grass, where Malik rolled free quickly. He grasped a handful of grass and lunged at Kaiba, stuffing the handful down the front of Kaiba's stiffly pressed shirt.
Kaiba clutched at the collar of his shirt. Malik looked down at him triumphantly, then moved off and wiped his hands on the CEO's pants. "That'll teach you not to mess with me anymore, grapehead."
Kaiba stood up and shook himself off, but succeeded in getting rid of very few of the stray grass stems in his shirt. "You're such a loser, Malik," he told the Egyptian's back.
"You're a SORE loser," Malik answered.
"I haven't lost yet." Kaiba lunged forward, and, in one perfectly executed movement, knocked Malik to his knees, at the same time stuffing a grassy handful of his own down the back of Malik's tight black shirt. Malik instinctively rolled over, trying to get away, which brought his face within centimeters of Kaiba's.
He grinned mischievously, putting both arms up around Kaiba's neck. "Ohh, Kaiba," he mock purred, "I didn't know you felt this way about me!"
Kaiba abruptly did a double take, noticing their position. He didn't want to know what the paparazzi would make of this, if they got any pictures. He sighed tragically. "Much as I would love to consummate our undying love right now, I don't think that the half-mowed lawn is the right place for it." He got up in as dignified a manner as he could, and gave Malik a hand up as well. He restrained the urge to mirror Malik's silly grin. He could hardly admit to himself that rolling in the grass with Malik was fun.
Malik turned ruefully to his lawnmower. "I guess that's my cue to get back to work."
"I do have a gardener, you know," Kaiba said.
"But, if I shirk-"
"Who's to know that you left? Don't worry, one way or another the lawn will get mowed."
Malik ran fingers through his messy hair. "Geez, Kaiba, that's really nice of you. I never thought you were like that."
"Whatever. Just get going." Kaiba wasn't quite sure what made him act so...nice to the Egyptian. Maybe because he's my friend? he thought in surprise. He had always thought that being friends was a great demand on one's time, the way Yugi's crowd seemed to spend every waking minute together and worrying about each other. Now though, it seemed like something much more casual, and involving much less effort. And a lot more enjoyable.
After ditching the Ugly Thing, Malik happily started home, looking forward to the prospect of a free afternoon. He was supposed to get the next two days off too, as his weekend, and then go straight back to work, but the bright vision of Saturday and Sunday kept him bouncing happily along the way home.
He passed the street where Ryou lived, and after a slight hesitation, decided not to visit Ryou just then. He intended to spend some time with Ryou while he could, but for now, he wanted to take some time off by himself. Especially after his friendly brush with Kaiba.
Who'd have thought the stiff CEO could be so nice?
"My, my, look who's so happy today."
Malik spun around, flinging his hair into his face in the process. Bakura stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning against a nearby tree.
"What do you want now?" Malik wasn't in the mood to deal with Bakura. And the afternoon had been looking so good, too....
Bakura sauntered forward, smiling slightly. "You have some grass in your hair," he commented, reaching one hand to sift through the fine strands.
Malik slapped his hand away.
Bakura sighed. "Why are you always so hostile? Do you feel threatened by me?"
"As if," Malik all but snarled back.
Bakura advanced on Malik, making the Egyptian take a quick step back. "Not threatened at all, eh."
"Fuck you."
One of Bakura's hands was on his shoulder, holding him against the tree. "With pleasure," the thief purred.
Malik removed himself and put a few meters' distance between them. "Was there something you wanted?" He struggled to keep his voice even, resolving to hold his ground this time.
"Of course. You."
"I FIGURED THAT OUT ALREADY!"
"But Malik, it's natural for someone like me to be attracted to someone as smart and as pretty as you."
"Someone like you?" Malik asked with an elegantly arched eyebrow.
"Someone as unscrupulous and beautiful as me."
"More like a narcissist and an ass."
Bakura smiled, almost sheepishly. "Yeah, that too."
Malik gave Bakura a weird look.
"What?" Bakura immediately snapped back.
"Nothing," Malik said. He walked off in the direction of his apartment, Bakura falling into step beside him. "Why are you following me?"
"I'm trying to have a civil conversation with you."
Malik rolled his eyes.
"You even get along with the Pharaoh's brat. Why do you refuse to give me a chance?"
"Because Yugi's nice and you're an annoying dolt," Malik answered absently.
Bakura fell silent, something within him shriveling up. Did Malik really feel that way about him? It looked like no matter what he did, Malik truly detested him. "Other people have feelings too, you know," Bakura blurted, before he could stop himself.
Malik stumbled and nearly fell. What did Bakura mean? He had never thought something like that would hurt the tomb robber's feelings! He had never thought that Bakura had any feelings, truth be told. "Sorry," Malik said lamely, "I didn't mean- well, not really- I just- I-"
"Oh, quit making an idiot of yourself," Bakura said, with a definite hint of fondness in his voice.
Before Malik knew what he was doing, he had flashed Bakura a small grin. "So far, the only idiot here is you, a fact which you seem to enjoy making painfully obvious."
Bakura playfully punched the Egyptian's shoulder. "It's ok, Malik, I understand that being with me causes you to have feelings of inadequacy. Don't feel bad, it's only natural."
They talked freely and joked as they walked, and were almost at his doorstep before Malik noticed how far they'd come. Suddenly it hit him, as he looked at Bakura's white head thrown back as he laughed at a dumb comment one of them had made, that something was different.
It scared him, that difference, that easy camaraderie he and Bakura had slipped into as soon as he'd forgotten to act hostile. It was frightening, yet pleasant.
No matter how he looked at it, though, any friendly relations he would maintain with the tomb robber would forever remind him of the Malik from Battle City, that wild and crazy boy who had stopped at nothing to gain what he wanted.
Malik put his hand on the handle of the door to his apartment. His expression grew frosty, his eyes cold. "Thank you for walking me home," he said stiffly and turned his back on the other.
Bakura stared at the sudden change. They'd been getting along so well, what had happened? Had he said something to trigger such an abrupt switch? He reached out and put a hand hesitantly on the small of Malik's back. "Malik, what's wrong?"
"You really should go now." Malik didn't turn around. He was fiddling with a key in the keyhole, trying to drag it out as long as he could. Under no circumstances did he want Bakura coming into his house with him.
Suddenly, Bakura's hands were around him, enveloping him in a hug. "I'm sorry," Bakura muttered.
Malik held his breath, the let it out slowly. "For what?"
"For whatever it is that I did that makes you act so... scared, so utterly freaked out around me."
"I'm not scared," Malik hissed, pushing Bakura away.
Bakura nodded, his reddish eyes boring into Malik's lavender ones. He raised a hand in front of him and backed away. "Ok." He turned and left, down the stairs to the bottom floor of the building.
Malik stared at his back as it disappeared from view, and stood there long after he'd gone. He leaned weakly against the door.
Damn. Why did he feel so guilty, for treating Bakura like that? He knew the Tomb robber, dammit, and all Bakura cared about was himself! He refused to believe that Bakura could have changed like that! He shouldn't be able to relate to the tomb robber any more, not now that he himself had changed so much for the better!
The familiar, bitter guilt stuck in his throat again, and Malik closed his eyes, refusing to give in to it this time. He would not become a miserable wreck every time he remembered Battle City!
Malik made a small sound, something between a sigh and a whimper. Isis always used to comfort him when he was unhappy.
Suddenly he wished that Isis were there, with her warm embrace and soothing voice. The old ache for home, for the familiar sights and sounds of the desert, the one he'd managed to suppress since he'd left Egypt, returned in full. He desperately attempted to push it away, to drown it out, but it stayed, anchored to his very soul.
He choked back a sob and pushed the door open. The laptop on his table drew his eyes, and he itched to type a message to his sister. At the last second, he restrained himself. He would not call for help like a dependant child. He would not prove Isis' fears true, but would survive on his own. He burst through his bedroom door and fell into his bed, burying his head under the thin pillow and willing the hot tears away. Ra, but he hated his life. Why did he always mess things up? WHY?
Later that afternoon found Malik in front of Tristan's house. He had looked up the address on the Internet, and had decided it was cheaper to walk than to call. He smiled brightly when Tristan opened the door, noting the immediate double take the other teen did when he saw who had knocked.
"Malik?" Tristan asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
"Hey," Malik said easily, "I came to ask you a favor."
"Sure. Do you want to come in?" Tristan offered, opening the door wider.