Interfereshipping (Jonouchi Katsuya/Kujaku Mai/Yami no Marik)

. . .

Sometimes she woke up screaming.

Sometimes she woke up choking on her own saliva because she thought she was being eaten alive again, thought she was locked inside that glass cage of death.

Sometimes, she woke up feeling an arm draped over her chest and she thought it was someone else, someone with cold, flat violet eyes and a twisted grin and cold golden bracers and those hands were moving up to her throat and she would try to break away, to wriggle free, but something was binding her, holding her, should could get away—

"Mai—Mai! Mai, it's okay, no one's touching you, you're here, you're here, you not wherever he is...Mai...Mai, it's me, it's Katsuya..."

The arm would jerk quickly off of her and whatever was holding her down would be peeled carefully away, and after a few panicked gulps of breath and her heart pounding in her ears her brain would come to the conclusion that she wasn't being bound down, it had just been the blanket and sheets twisting around her. The arm wasn't his, it was a warm hand that stayed on the bed beside her hand, fingers just barely touching hers in order to let her know that he was there, but not touching her, giving her space and time to breathe.

Sometimes, it would take her a long, long time before she was able to do anything other than lay there and sob. And he would whisper to her from just a short distance, a soothing sound; it didn't matter much whathe was saying as much as the tone, the fact that he remained there at her side but didn't touch her, didn't come too close until she had gotten a hold of herself and remembered exactly where she was.

"I'm sorry," she would whisper, her throat closing up and choking her. "I'm sorry. I woke you up again."

And he'd just make a soft "sh...sh...sh...it's okay...it's okay..." and his fingers would touch her hair ever so gently and briefly, a silent question of whether she wanted him to or not. And she did. She always did.

She would put her hand on top of his and guide it through her hair, let it cup her face. He'd settle back down beside her with a sigh, slowly draping his arm over her shoulders again. She'd always hesitate. She always wanted to grab him, then, to pull him close to her so that she could remember how real this was. That she was okay, she wasn't in that nightmare anymore, thisright here was the real world. But she would always feel as though she weren't allowed. She didn't deserve his touch or his comfort, not after everything she had done, after everything she kept doing. Had he ever gotten a good night's sleep since he had begun lying down next to her?

But no matter what, he would always whisper,

"Is it okay if I hold you now?"

And she would only be able to nod. He'd pull her into him then, so that she could nestle her face in the crook of his collarbone and he could rest his head in her hair. She could always feel him breathing in deeply as though memorizing her scent, and she would do the same to his shirt as she curled her fingers into it.

Only then would she be able to fall asleep again.

The nightmare man would be back, eventually. He'd always be back to interfere with her, with this, trying to take away all the happiness she had managed to gain. He'd never leave her alone.

But she would always press her face into her lover and realize...

Neither would Katsuya.

. . .

A/N: Kinda pushing it here, since Yami no Marik's not actually even here, but...whatever. I enjoyed writing this one. Next is Intentshipping (Yami no Bakura x Mokuba).