Artichokeshipping (Honda Hiroto/Yami no Marik)
. . .
Honda had tried not to feel hatred for a long time. It did things to him. He remembered his middle school days with some amount of dread, and he didn't want to turn into that person again. Let him just be the affable, barely noticed best friend who fiddled with motorcycles for the rest of time, so that no one could peel back any of those layers and see the stains underneath.
This guy, however, was testing his resolve.
The wild grin made him stop in the hallway, made his hands curl into fists. The others were charging ahead, following the hall to where Mai had been taken for recovery.
Marik was waiting, just waiting, smiling as the others ran past. His flat eyes slid to Honda, smile only widening to see him stopped.
"Have something to say?" he said. "Some grand speech about how the pharaoh will take me down and friendship will win?"
Black. That's what it felt like when he got like this. Tunnel vision that turned the outsides of his eyes black, that turned his insides all into a burning, deep black that even he couldn't see the depth of.
"Sometimes you're scary," Jonouchi had said once. "Really scary. You could be a gang boss yourself if you decided to."
Marik didn't know what hit him until Honda's fist connected with his jaw. The other man's eyes bulged, his tongue flapped out of his mouth, and he stumbled, looking for all the world as though he had never been hit in his life.
Honda wanted to continue. He wanted to pound his fists into his face until he didn't have a face.
"Honda!" Anzu shouted down the hall. "Are you coming?"
He didn't want his friends to see this part of him.
He just spat on the ground near Marik's feet.
"Friendship will win?" he said. "Maybe—if friendship means my fucking fist in your fucking gut."
He spat again, shoved his hands in his pockets, and left the madman to figure out the aftermath of being physically struck.
. . .
A/N: Honda is a badass, this is not up for debate. Next is Arrogantshipping (Seto x Mai).
