Title: Illicit Love
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Warning: Yaoi, drug use, swearing, violence
Recommendation! Okay, if you like my story, then you'll LOVE Colour Me Blood Red by Meine Liebe. So read and review it! I promise you'll like it!
Note: Sorry it's taken so long! I got hit with writers block and a shit load of homework, and then college classes took over my life. But I promise the next chapter won't take so long to get out.
Chapter Six
Bakura stared up at Marik's house, wondering if he should go up to the door. The once cluttered Nissan was no longer full of junk, instead cleaned inside and out, the black paint restored to a glossy shine. The newest addition in the driveway was a new, midnight blue, corvette. The snowy haired teen assumed it was Rishid's, seeing as the blonde wasn't at school, and he doubted that he'd willingly stay home with his father; so his brother had to be there if Marik was home.
Sighing, he stepped up to the door, and knocked gently. He got no response at first, but after nearly a minute, the door swung open, revealing Rishid, angry shouts coming from inside the house. Bakura wondered if he had come at a bad time, but when the older man stepped aside, opening the door even more, he nodded, entering the house, finding that the shouts were coming from Marik.
The blonde was in the living room, now free from empty beer cans and bottles, sweat rolling down his face, soaking his shirt. Violet eyes settled on Bakura, his lips curling into a sneer, eyes narrowing dangerously. He spoke to Rishid, speaking angrily in a language that Bakura couldn't comprehend. The man next to him shook his head, before turning to the snowy haired teen.
"He wants to know what you're doing here," Rishid stated, turning to Bakura.
Shrugging the snowy haired teen turned to Marik. "We have a project to work on, remember?" he said to the blonde, who narrowed his eyes in return.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the angry Egyptian spat, heading for the stairs.
"Nice try, Marik," Rishid countered, shaking his head. "I've already checked with your school, so I know all about your current...and missing assignments."
Marik growled. "Fuck off, Rishid," he snarled. "Go back to your corporate world and leave me alone."
"Marik, I'm not going back until you're better," Rishid snapped. "Now go work on your project, and maybe I'll buy you a pack of cigarettes later."
"I don't want a fucking pack a cigarettes!" Marik shouted before storming up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Bakura watched as Rishid went back into the kitchen and sighed, heading up the stairs. He could hear the music coming from Marik's room, the door shaking in the frame. He let himself into the blonde's room, finding the other teen on his bed, reading a magazine. "What the fuck do you want!" the violet eyed teen demanded.
"Project," Bakura stated, speaking slowly as if he was talking to an idiot.
With a glare, Marik got off his bed and went over to Bakura, shoving him back out the door with a hard shove. "Do it yourself," he snarled.
"No!" Bakura said, shaking his head. "I know you're going through a rough time with your drugs and shit, but I'm not going to keep having this argument with you! Now you're going to sit down, shut up, and help me with this fucking project!"
Marik stared at Bakura for a couple seconds before turning and going back into his room. Although the blonde said nothing, the fact that he didn't close the door was enough for Bakura to allow himself to enter. He watched as the violet eyed teen went over and lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His brow came together, deep in thought, as he tried to sort out everything that happened.
"You know, we could help each other," Bakura said from the doorway. "You're going through a rough time, with your dad and with the drugs, but I can help."
Marik snorted. "How could a priss like you help?" he questioned. "Your biggest trouble is a bad grade, what could you know about drugs and abuse."
Bakura twitched, but managed to keep his cool as he went over to the bed. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "You put some effort into this project, and leave my brother alone, then I'll help you when you need it. You're dad won't be staying away forever, so if it ever gets too bad, then you can come to my place." Watching Marik's reaction, he sat down next to him. "That way, when he really pisses you off, your first reaction won't be to do a line of coke."
Violet eyes narrowed slightly in question. He'd been given many offers of help in the past, even by his own brother, but always turned them down, or forgot about them. However, with Bakura, there was something even more that wanted to make him turn the snowy haired teen down even more. He had something to gain if the blonde accepted his help; if Marik went to him for help, then he'd owe Bakura, and the Egyptian didn't like the thought of that. He already felt he owed the snowy haired teen for finding him after he overdosed.
"I'll leave your brother alone, and I'll even help you with this assignment," Marik stated, sitting up. "But I'll be damned if I go to you for help."
Bakura shrugged, looking away from the blonde. "Whatever," he said. "At least I'm getting you to work on this."
The Egyptian stared at the snowy haired teen for a long time before looking away. "Why did you help me?" he asked, staring out the window. "Why didn't you just leave me to die?"
Blinking, Bakura's eyes narrowed, before turning to Marik. "Why are you so willing to die?" he countered. "And why should I make your life easy?"
Glaring, Marik got off the bed, going over to his dresser, grabbing the pack of cigarettes he hid from Rishid, lighting up before going over to the open window, allowing the smoke to escape. "It wouldn't make life easier," he stated, "it would make your life easier, and your brother's life easier."
Bakura shook his head, standing to go look through Marik's books. "And what about your brother?" he questioned, plucking a book off the shelf. "Would you dying make his life easier?"
"Probably," Marik answered without hesitation. "He could focus more on work. And my father might get over his alcoholism."
Bakura rolled his eyes. "Your father was an alcoholic long before you came into existence," he said. "A person knows long before they are considered an alcoholic that they are." He paused, turning to Marik. "Same with druggies. After you did your first line of coke, and all your troubles in the world vanished, you felt great, and you were hooked."
"Cocaine is a drug your hooked on after one hit," Marik argued.
Bakura shook his head, putting the book away. "You got hooked on it because your mind liked what it did," he stated. "Mentally, you needed it to go on, and you decided that after your first line."
Frowning, the blonde looked out the window, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Slowly, blue smoke left the Egyptian's nose, a trail of smoke traveling up from the white stick. He tried to push Bakura's words from his mind, not wanting to believe that he was weak enough to need drugs, but at the same time, he knew it was true. After every line of coke, and after every drink, he had no problems. All the physical and mental pain was gone. Then his high would wear off, and he'd crash back to reality; fall through the thick shell of pain that reminded him of his weakness.
When his cigarette was gone, he stubbed it out on the window still, tossing the butt into a bowl of sand by the desk. His eyes settled on Bakura, watching as the snowy haired teen looked through his books, before pulling one out, leafing through its pages. Violet eyes widened when he realized which book it was and quickly moved over to him, taking the book away. "I think you should leave," he stated.
Bakura watched Marik oddly then nodded, grabbing his bag, staring at the blond. "If you're serious about helping with the assignment, then you could do some more research," he stated. "Your books are good, but we need more information for the whole thing."
Nodding, Marik tossed his book onto the bed. "I'll consider doing something," he mumbled, looking away from the snowy haired teen. With a sigh, Bakura left Marik's room, truly doubting the blonde would do anything.
The next day, Bakura sat at the lunch table with his friends, each of them talking about their weekend plans. So far, they planned to see a movie on Friday night. Saturday, they were going to an underground rave. Finally, on Sunday, they were going to the mall; Malik wanting a new pair of leather pants, and the rest of them needing new CDs, or wanting a new movie to watch. Sighing, the snowy haired teen continued to go through one of Marik's books, making little notes on a sheet of paper for the report.
"Great, look who decided to join us," Malik grumbled as Marik entered the cafeteria. The blonde had his hair pulled up, not having the energy to spike the long strands. Violet eyes settled on Bakura, and his slowly made his way over to him. Chocolate eyes made their way to the big stack of white papers in the tan hands. The first thing that surprised him was it had to be at least a hundred pages, and he couldn't believe the same person who was so adamant about not doing the assignment could find that much information.
"Here's everything I could find," Marik stated before Bakura could ask, dropping the huge stack of papers in front of the snowy haired teen, who just sat there, dumbfounded. "I'm sure there's more I could get if I tried harder, but I figured that on top of the books would be enough."
"Plenty," Bakura commented, looking up at the blonde. "...you actually looked this all up?"
Rolling his violet eyes, the Egyptian nodded. "I couldn't sleep," he said, shrugging. "So I looked up a few things for this project." Reaching up, he ran a hand through hid blonde hair, stopping at the bun. At times, his skin would crawl, making his head feel like it was covered with bugs. He blamed the withdrawal.
"What does this say?" Bakura questioned, pointing to some written Egyptian.
"Shit," Marik swore, flipping through the pages. With a sigh, he pulled a pen from his pocket and sat down, going through the pages, translating his own words.
"So, I'm surprised they let you back in school," Malik commented, somewhat viciously.
Marik glanced to Malik, eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm surprised you've survived this long with that mouth of yours," he said, going back to what he was doing.
The other blonde snorted, packing his stuff and standing. "Whatever," he grumbled, storming off.
Marik rolled his eyes, going back to translating the Egyptian written on the paper. Ryou leaned over, looking at the foreign words. "Who taught you Egyptian?" the small teen asked softly.
The blonde glanced to Ryou and shrugged. "My mother taught me," he stated. "It just stuck because I write to my brother in it." Bakura listened with interest, watching the violet eyed teen leaf through the pages. Parts had been highlighted, the colors varying. He assumed each color had a purpose.
When the bell rang, they all stood and headed to class, Marik and Bakura walking together. "Want to come over after school?" the snowy haired teen asked. "We can sift through all this research."
Marik shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I guess," he said. "Are you sure your brother won't freak?"
"If you leave him alone, he'll be fine," Bakura stated. "See ya."
"Later," Marik said, walking off.