Title: Illicit Love
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Warning: Yaoi, drug use, swearing
Chapter Two
Bakura sat broadly in his history class, listening as their teacher kept going on about their up coming project. It was aone monthproject, and it was to be done in groups of two, and it had to relevant to World War II. Sighing to himself, the snowy haired teen listened to everything involved. A class presentation, complete with power point, and a ten page paper. They were to have at least six sources, and couldn't have more than two internet sources.
"Okay, now, I'm going to assign your partners..." their teacher stopped, hearing a good portion of the class groan. Shaking his head, he was about to assign partners when the door opened and Marik stepped inside, closing the door. "Well, nice of you to join us today, Marik."
"Oh, yeah, because I'm sure me being hear makes everyone's day," Marik grumbled, and Bakura's eyes narrowed. The blonde shoved a note from the principal at the teacher then made his way to his seat at the back of class, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Are you feeling okay?" his teacher questioned him, staring at the wet finger prints on the piece of paper.
"Fine," Marik snarled, sitting down, putting his feet on his desk, crossing his arms over his chest as his began to shake. "So, what are we doing?"
The teacher stared at him. "A group project on World War II, I was about to assign partners," he stated.
Marik rolled his violet eyes. "Might as well fail me now," he mumbled. Shaking his head, the teacher started assigning partners, not that Marik really cared.
Bakura kept a steady glare in Marik's direction. He was only half way listening to the teacher, silently hoping he didn't get paired with Marik, knowing he'd end up doing the whole thing. Shaking his head, the dark eyed teen returned his attention to the front of the class, eyes falling on his history teacher. He watched as everyone was paired up slowly, until the teacher finally called out his name.
"Bakura, I think I'll have you work with..." he paused, looking through the list. "...Marik!"
"What?" Both teens in questioned snapped, standing quickly, their chairs getting pushed backwards.
"Is there a problem?" their teacher questioned.
"Yes!" Marik snapped. "I refuse to work with a stuck up prick like him!"
"Stuck up prick? You fucking bastard!" Bakura snarled. The students around them quickly moved away. "I refuse to work with the inconsiderate asshole who messes with my brother!"
Marik grinned. "Why, want him all to yourself?" he questioned.
Bakura's eyes widened and he looked disgusted. "You sick fuck!" he shouted.
"Bakura! Marik! Enough!" Their teacher snapped. "You two are working together, and that's final! If you don't do it, then it's your grade that will suffer, because this is worth twenty percent of your final grade!"
"What?" Bakura returned his attention to his teacher. "You expect me to work on a project that big with this fucking jackass!"
"Yes, I do!" Their teacher snapped. "Now, sit down! If you don't like it, then do it alone, and say so in the student evaluation!"
The two teens huffed and plopped into their seats, looking away from each other with a glare. They sat there for the rest of class, even as the teacher made them split up to discuss their projects. Nearly twenty minutes before class was over, Marik pulled his coat off, sweating immensely, feeling the effects of his body's withdrawal. He knew the only reason it was happening now was because he went through a weeks worth of cocaine in an hour; making him sweat and shake. He tried to remain as normal looking as possible, but his dark blue shirt was growing darker by the minute as he body continued to sweat.
From his seat, Bakura watched Marik carefully. He couldn't figure out why they day before he seemed to be fine, and now it seemed like his body was falling apart. He shook continuously, and he could see the sweat pouring down his face. When he started thinking about seeing him the day before with Keith, and recalling the rumors concerning Keith being a drug dealer, he started thinking Marik's body was suffering from withdrawal. However, without evidence, he couldn't do anything about it.
The bell to end classes rang, and Marik stood quickly, grabbing his jacket, leaving out the back door of the class. Bakura rolled his eyes. "Probably going to get high..." he mumbled. Leaving the class, he made he way to the cafeteria, catching up with Tristan and Malik.
"What do you looked so pissed?" Malik questioned, sitting at their usual table.
"I got paired with Marik for a history project," Bakura grumbled, sitting next to Malik.
"That sucks," Tristan stated. "So, are you going to do it all yourself, or try to get Marik involved?"
Bakura huffed. "Like that idiot gives a damn," he grumbled, resting his head on the table.
Marik entered the cafeteria halfway through lunch, having already gone to look for Keith elsewhere. Violet eyes looked around the cafeteria before settling on a table in the far corner, and he quickly went over to it, taking a seat in the vacant chair. He got a few strange looks from the people at the tables and around him, but a heated glare quickly had them looking the other way.
"Wow, Marik, you look like shit," Keith stated, fixing the bandana on his head. "What happened?"
The boy next to him, Rex, laughed, shoving some of his wild brown hair from his face. "Someone's going through withdrawal!" he stated.
Marik glared. "Shut up," he growled, handing Keith some money. "Give me two."
"Two? You just bought one yesterday!" Keith stated, taking the money. Counting it quickly, he shoved it into his pocket before pulling out two small bags, handing them to Marik. "So, why do you need some again so quickly? Not that I'm complaining..."
Marik growled. "My father really pissed me off, and it was gone within an hour," he stated.
Rex made a face. "Suckage," he commented. "Being high when you're pissed is no fun. ...you should come over later. We're all gonna get totally shit faced."
Marik shook his head. "Are you kidding? I'm gonna go home, do a line of coke, and go to bed," he stated.
"You still using the ace of spades?" Keith asked and Marik nodded. "One of these days, that'll bite you in the ass, and you will die."
Marik shrugged. "Like anyone will care when I die..." he mumbled, standing, heading off.
Bakura left after his last class and ran around the school, looking for any sign of Marik. He refused to do the history project by himself, and was going to get Marik to work on it even if it killed him. The snowy haired teen turned another corner, seeing Marik getting his leather coat from his locker, looking dull.
Scowling, Bakura stormed over to Marik and shut the locker door just as Marik was about to. "Listen," he ordered, and Marik raised an eyebrow, putting his coat on. "I'm not doing this whole damn history project alone, and I don't care if you hate history or how fucking lazy you are, you're going to help with it."
Marik stared at Bakura for nearly a minute before he started laughing. "Listen, pal," he said sarcastically, "I don't give a damn about this assignment, and I don't give a damn about you. Just do what the teach said; do the whole thing yourself, then slam me in the partner evaluation."
Bakura glared, grabbing Marik's arm as he tried to walk off, shoving him against the locker. "You don't get it, do you?" he demanded. "I'm not doing this all by myself. You will help with it, or I'll hurt you."
Marik stared at him and laughed. "I think we proved yesterday that you can't hurt me," he said cockily.
Growling, Bakura sent his fist into Marik's gut. "You pathetic junkie," he sneered. "You may not give a damn, but pretend for a month that you do, and once this is over, you can go back to whatever drugs you do."
Marik gasped softly, gritting his teeth. "You don't know a fucking thing about me," he seethed. "Do the damn project yourself." Shoving Bakura away, Marik pulled his leather coat on, arm wrapping around his gut, his body starting to shake. Physiologically, his body was craving the white substance in his pocket, sweat breaking out on his forehead. Psychologically, Marik needed it. He knew he couldn't go a day without, and he didn't care that one person was able to figure it out.
Leaning against the lockers, the blonde continued to watch Bakura, waiting to see if he'd leave, or if he would continue to stand there. Violet eyes stared dully, the spark that once shined long since dead. They eventually locked with dark brown; and Marik suddenly wanted to leave. There was something about Bakura's eyes that bothered him, made him feel uncomfortable. He held the gaze before he blinked, and looked away.
"What's wrong? Scared?" Bakura taunted. "You can beat up my little brother, but you can't look me in the eye?"
Marik glared at him. "I'll have you know, I haven't beaten your brother...physically," he stated.
"Oh, well, even though he still fears you, that's comforting," Bakura commented, sarcasm dripping with ever word. "I'll consider that when I'm pretending to give a damn."
"Glad to know I could help," Marik grumbled, turning to walk off.
Bakura grabbed the back of Marik's jacket and slammed him against the locker, his hands coming down on both sides of his shoulders, the sound of flesh hitting steel echoing throughout the hallway. The blonde stared with wide eyes, before narrowing at the snowy haired teen. Grabbing his wrist, he shoved the other teen away, nails digging into his pale flesh.
"Let's get this straight," Marik hissed dangerously, "I don't give a flying fucking Ra about the assignment, so if you want it done, then you can do it." Releasing his wrist, Marik stalked off, and Bakura growled in frustration.