Title: Illicit Love
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Warning: Yaoi, drug use, swearing

Chapter One

Bakura sat in his last period English class, head resting against the desk as he tried to stay awake. He didn't care about whatever the teacher had to say, or what book they were reading. All he wanted to do was go home and nap; curl up under his thick blue comforter, buried away from the rest of the world and its troubles. He had one person in the class he could talk to, Seto Kaiba, but he was too busy typing his notes as the teacher spoke.

The bell finally rang, and Bakura stood quickly, making his head spin. Deep, chocolate brown eyes went out of focus as the room spun before refocusing, and he caught his balance. The teen stood tall at 5 feet 11 inches, his snowy white hair falling around his face, contrasting with chocolate brown eyes. He wore a normal pair of dark blue jeans, black shirt hanging off his shoulders, shoulder bag swaying at his hips as he walked, his work boots clapping against the floor.

Bakura left the room with his friend, the two of them heading for the front parking lot. Seto Kaiba was six foot two inches tall. Vibrant blue eyes stared intently in front of him. With a wave to Bakura, he turned down a different hallway, heading for his locker, white trench coat waving behind him.

Heading down the hallway to the locker Bakura shared with his younger brother, Ryou, he stopped, watching at the event before. Over on the other wall, his younger brother, who looked like he could be his twin, except smaller, stood pressed against the lockers, terrified. The older teen watched, waiting to see who the culprit was, and wasn't all that surprised to see wild blonde hair.

Marik grinned wildly as he approached Ryou, violet eyes watching the shaking teen. His combat boots clicked quietly against tile as he walked, the boots enclosing around the bottom of his dark jeans. Dark blue lead to the white shirt he worse, covered by the black leather jacket. Blonde hair fanned out in large spikes, violet eyes shining against bronze skin, black eyeliner pulling out around his eyes in a simple pattern.

"What's wrong, shrimp?" Marik asked Ryou, pressing his arm against the locker, looking down at the smaller youth. He reached up, trailing his finger along Ryou's jaw line.

"N-nothing," Ryou stuttered, moving away. Marik's large hand slammed the locker next to his head, the small teen flinching, his escaped blocked off.

"Now, you wouldn't be lying, would you?" Marik asked, his voice dripping with false concern. Ryou only shook his head. "Good, because I hate liars," he sneered.

"Hey! Get away from him!" Bakura ordered, stepping around the corner, glare on his face.

Marik turned, a grin spreading across his face. Pushing off the locker, he slowly made his way over to Bakura. "Or you'll what?" he questioned. "Call for mommy and daddy?"

Bakura glared dangerously. "Leave my brother alone," he ordered, walking straight up to Marik. They both came eye to eye, and Marik laughed in his face. "What's so funny?"

"You," Marik replied. "It's cute how you think you stand a chance against me. I haven't lost a fight since I entered high school, and I sure as hell ain't gonna lose a fight to a priss like you."

With a glare, Bakura moved away and sent his fist into Marik's jaw, sending the blonde reeling. Violet eyes narrowed dangerously, and the blonde reached up, wiping the blood from his lip. "You hit like a girl," he sneered. Sending an upward punch to Bakura's nose, the other teen went sprawling onto the floor, hitting his head against the peach tile.

"Bakura!" Ryou cried, moving away from the locker, but not getting too close. He looked up the hall as Seto and Yami came running towards them.

Groaning, Bakura rolled over and pushed himself off the floor, glaring at Marik. When he saw the grin on Marik's face, he lunged, tackling the blonde to the ground, sending his fist into Marik's nose. The blonde glared up at him, catching his fist as it came down a second time. Using his body weight, Marik managed to flip them over, pining Bakura's hands on either side of his face, sitting on him. He watched as Bakura struggled under him, trying to force him off. Marik dug his nails into Bakura's pail wrist, watching the area turn red.

Marik grinned sadistically, sticking his tongue out, dragging it along Bakura's bottom lip, collecting the blood that welled there, moaning softly at its taste. He glanced down with angry violet eyes as Bakura stared at him with wide eyes before pushing himself off the ground, heading out of the school, laughing the whole way.

"Bakura?" Ryou moved over to Bakura as his brother sat up. "Are you okay?"

Bakura nodded, standing. "What about you?" he asked.

Ryou shrugged. "I've been better," he muttered.

Bakura shook his head. "Next time he's bothering you, come get me," he ordered, going over to pick up his bag.

"What the hell is that guy's problem?" Yami asked, crimson eyes watching the brothers carefully. His spiky, tri-colored hair was almost as bad as Marik's, but a little neater due to the amount of hair gel he uses. Standing nearly six inches shorter than Seto, he was probably the shortest of his group aside from Ryou and Yugi, but they were three years younger than him as well.

"You mean besides the fact that he's a complete nut case?" Bakura questioned, getting into his locker. "How long has he been messing with you?"

Ryou shrugged, looking down. "Couple months..." he mumbled. Bakura stared at him and sighed irritably, slamming the door shut. Ruffling his brother's hair, the four of them left the school, heading out to the parking lot. The four of them were going over to Seto's house to hang out, relax from the stress of the week. They'd talked Seto out of calling the driver, wanting to walk for once.

People form their school were everywhere on the streets, shopping and messing around with friends. Across the street, Bakura's dark eyes fell upon a wild mess of blonde hair, and growled deep within his throat. He watched as Marik made his way over towards Keith, another known bully around the school, and was confused when they greeted each other like old friends.

"I wonder what those two are up to," Seto mused, and Yami chuckled.

"Probably conspiring to make the lives of freshman hell," the crimson eyed teen said.

"I don't think so," Bakura said, watching as the two across the street. Keith was speaking to Marik, looking stern the whole time, while Marik held a scowl and a glare. Nodding, the two blondes shared a hand shake, and from a distance, Bakura was able to see something being exchanged. Marik instantly shoved his hand into his pocket and walked off. Grinning, Keith looked at the money in his hand, before he, too, left.

"...what was that about?" Seto demanded.

"I'm not sure..." Yami admitted.

"'Kura?" Ryou looked up at his older brother, silently questioning.

"Don't worry about it," Bakura said, smiling softly. "I'm sure it was nothing." Ryou nodded, but didn't look like he believed him. The four of them began their trek to Seto's once again, seeing no more of Keith or Marik.

Marik scowled as he walked up to his home. Outside, the Nissan Sentra sat, parked, the backseat piled high with random things. Sighing to himself, the violet eyed teen went up to the domicile and entered, kicking the door shut as he tossed his keys onto the side table. Looking around, he listened for any signs of life, hoping silently that his father had passed out drunk again.

When he heard nothing, Marik went into the kitchen and over to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of imported beer before heading for the stairs. He heard the TV going, and looked towards the living room, biting the inside of his cheek, setting the beer on the stairs before entering the other room. Quietly, he made his way over to the couch, and scowled.

Passed out, arm hanging over the side, half empty bottle of beer in hand, was his father. Still dressed in his work clothes, his father wasted no time in empty the fridge of half its content. All around him, empty beer cans and bottles littered the couch and floor. Shaking his head, Marik glared down at the man on the couch before heading back to the stairs, grabbing the bottle of beer on his way.

Marik entered his room and silently shut his door, leaning against it with a sigh. His room was unlike any other room in the house. The full size bed was pressed against the wall, the black comforter with gold detailing falling to the floor. Black walls made the room appear dim, even with the light on. His tall, black lacquered dresser was pressed against the opposite wall, a black book case on the third wall, filled with all sorts of books.

The last piece of furniture in the room was the small side table next to his bed. The black alarm clock and lamp sat there innocently, hiding Marik's biggest secret. Smiling to himself, the blonde made his way over to the bed, taking his leather coat off, sitting down, bed groaning under his weight.

Digging around in his pocket, Marik pulled out the little bag of white powder, staring at it. Shaking his head, shivering, Marik opened the drawer to the night stand and reached in, pulling out a glass plate and a deck of cards. Setting the bag on the glass place andmoving them aside, he opened the deck of cards, pulling them out. Shuffling through them, Marik finally selected the Ace of Spades.

Since he'd started using months earlier, this had been the only card Marik would use. A card that symbolized death, and the blonde was using it to cut the drug in the bag, dealing him his own, slow death. There was nothing he could do though; having gotten himself too drawn into the wonderful feeling of his high. It allowed him to escape from everything. School, his home, his father.

Setting the other cards aside, Marik opened the small bag and carefully poured the contents onto the glass plate. Taking the card, Marik slowly moved the white powder around the plate, forming a little rectangle because separating it into quarters, pulling one quarter off on its own. He reformed that small section before splitting it in half, and then started forming a line with it, stretching it out, making a thin line.

Setting the card down, Marik leaned down, his nose against the glass and reached up, pressing one side of his nose, and breathed in, quickly traveling down the line, the white powder going up his nose. He pulled away, still breathing in, making sure that none of it fell from his nose. He smiled contently as he started feeling the drugs go to work. His room started spinning, and he laughed to himself.

"Marik!" The blonde growled to himself, hearing the only person he never wanted to hear again.

"What?" Marik snarled, standing, wiping his nose, leaving his room. He headed down stairs, going into the living room to see his father sitting up, drinking his now warm beer.

"Clean this fucking place up," his father ordered with a glare.

Marik returned the glare. "You fucking clean it up," he seethed. "It's your drunken mess!"

"I don't care!" his father shouted, standing. "You live in my house, under my roof, and you will abide by my rules! Now clean this up!" Shaking his head, Marik watched his father go into the kitchen, and he assumed it was to grab another beer.

Looking at the scene before him, Marik's face contorted with disgust. The couch was covered in sweat, leaving the perfect impression of his father's form. Cans of beer he hadn't seen before suddenly appeared before him. Rolling his violet eyes, Marik turned to head for the stairs.

"Where are you going?" his father demanded.

"Upstairs," Marik answered. "Clean up your own damn shit."

Marik watched as his father stormed over to him and nail a punch to his cheek. "Listen to me, you little punk bastard! I want this place cleaned up! So fucking clean it up!" Glaring, violet eyes turned dangerous, and he shoved his drunken father, watching the man topple over, hitting his head against the table. Shaking his head, he stormed upstairs, slamming the door to his room. Within an hour, the bottle of beer he took, and the white powder would be gone.