A/N: I FOUND THIS FOLLOWUP HIDDEN DEEP IN MY WRITING FOLDER AND I'M SO EXCITED. I don't even remember writing it so it was like reading something new from an author I like. Wait, is that conceited?
Now with hints of bronzeshipping and angstshipping. Also, I'm sorry. I tendershipped all over a perfectly good psychoshipping story.
"If you're going to have someone ever, would you kindly keep it down."
Bakura didn't respond, but then, he never responded to any of Ryou's requests and neither looked in the other's direction for the rest of the morning.
"Why should I care who he sleeps with?"
"Because you've complained about it ten times in so many minutes?"
"Because I couldn't get any sleep! I don't care if he brings someone home or who he brings home or what they do when they're there as long as they're quiet."
Ryou fidgeted under Malik's disbelief.
"I don't!"
"You are an idiot."
"And you are an asshole." Bakura looked up at his unwelcome company. "I'm so glad we were able to sort that out."
He glared hard but his old enemy didn't leave. Maddeningly, he took a barstool next to Bakura and ordered a drink.
"When you spend so much time protecting someone like we did, it's natural to form an attachment."
"Do NOT imply that we're the same and I do NOT know what you're talking about." Bakura's own glass hit the bar harder then necessary and he left before he broke the only promises keeping him here by killing Atem like he should have done the first time around.
"Look, I'm just saying that you don't have someone inside your head without growing to love them or hate them and I know you don't hate him."
"I can't believe you're implying that! It's not- You're the one I'm seeing right now," Ryou said in exasperation, trying to put an end to the conversation before it progressed any further into territory that he had so carefully avoided since the spirit's return.
"Ryou . . . We've never been more than friends who sleep together. You don't have a place in your heart for me like that." The statement was simple and quiet and Malik hurried on in a normal tone of voice as though it hadn't been said. "Anyways, it's alright, sometimes Marik and I . . ."
Ryou's eyes narrowed and his gaze became sharp in a way that Malik could feel, causing him to cut off what he was going to say.
"Marik . . . and I . . ." he hesitated, then took a deep breath. A very deep one. "You know there are days when I'm perfectly ok and then days when I'm not... doing so good. And, well, he has the same cycles and we don't mean for anything to happen but it just does and it's a good thing that it does because it keeps either of us from really loosing it." What was once secret was spoken in a rush and Malik let blond hair fall over his face to keep from having to see Ryou's reaction.
A long moment passed. Then Ryou stood and left.
"Ryou?"
"I don't care who you bring home, who you sleep with, and I don't hate you but it definitely doesn't mean the other thing!"
Accusatory, confrontational, and shouted loud enough for the neighbors to hear. All Bakura could do was stare after his counterpart in bafflement as he disappeared into his room and slammed the door hard enough to shake the frame.
Marik was the one who had trouble with personal pronouns but sometimes even Malik became confused. Was he Malik, was he Marik, was he both, was he neither? He was himself but what meaning did that hold. Who was himself? Sometimes there was only one way to find out.
Sometimes . . .
Hands all over and mapping every inch of skin, every imperfection, everything beautiful, discovering each for the first time even as each had always been there.
Sometimes . . .
One was always inside and one was always filled and it never changed but it was new each time.
Sometimes . . .
Pleasured cries broke the thick black night and they were separate and one and all and nothing.
Sometimes the lines between them had to be blurred entirely before new ones could be drawn.
