Slipping in a content warning here for vomiting at the beginning of the chapter.

Bakura awoke to an unpleasant sensation in his throat, like thousands of needles he'd been forced to swallow, and a distinct churning in his stomach that could only mean one thing - he'd overdone it on the booze again.

Fuck, fuck, fuck - !

He jumped off the sofa, clapped a hand over his mouth as the first involuntary retch doubled him over, and stumbled to the bathroom. He slumped against the toilet and heaved; nothing much came up in the end, but the telltale nasty, sour taste in his mouth lingered afterwards. A trembling hand fumbled blindly to flush the toilet, then he hauled himself upright and leaned against the sink to rinse his mouth out and brush his teeth.

Hang on a sec… Bakura glanced around the room, frowning as he brushed. He could have sworn that the last time his shower shone like polished gemstone, it had been when he'd moved in, and that must have been almost a year ago now. Did I clean up last night? I don't remember doing that…

"Bakura? Are you okay?"

The soft call from outside the bathroom door nearly made Bakura jump out of his skin in shock, and with that, the memories of the previous night flooded back. The nerve of him, to still be here!

Bakura threw his toothbrush into the sink and flung the door open, ready to snarl a multitude of threats in Malik's face -

Or that's what would have happened, had a mug of dark, heavenly goodness not appeared suddenly under his nose. Bakura stopped mid-snarl and jerked his head back, dark eyes scrutinising Malik warily. The young Egyptian looked as tired as Bakura felt, but the earnestness in his gaze made even Bakura's hardened heart soften a little. Damn it, Malik had always been too pretty for his own good.

Malik continued to hold the mug out with a small attempt at a smile. "I, ah…heard you throwing up, but I didn't really know what to do. Coffee usually makes me feel better, so…" Malik shook his head, smile dropping into a blush and a frown. "I mean…you don't have to drink it. I just thought maybe – "

Bakura blinked, his surprise doubling. Malik stuttering and stumbling over his words, like Ryou often did when he was nervous, took him aback completely. It was weird, and he didn't like it; it was clear that Malik wasn't used to feeling like he needed to care for someone.

With cat-like reflexes that even a throbbing hangover couldn't dull, Bakura snatched the mug from Malik's grasp and cradled it to his chest. The soothing warmth sank into his skin, a reminder that not everything in his life had to be cold and dark. "What are you still doing here?" he demanded of Malik. "Don't you have better things to do than bother me?"

"Not really," Malik shrugged. "I mean, I cleaned your apartment. That should probably tell you I have way too much time on my hands."

"Fuck you, Ishtar, don't touch my stuff."

"Kura, around 80% of "your stuff" appears to be vodka."

"Again, fuck you." Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose. "And don't even try that sappy nickname with me. That's what Ryou does when he wants something from me."

"What could Ryou possibly ever want from you? Look at the state of you!" Malik folded his arms and glared. "You of all people, drowning yourself in booze and shutting out everyone who ever tries to care for you. You're breaking Ryou's heart, pissing Kek off, and making Yugi go out of his mind with guilt. Atem at least doesn't seem to give a shit about you, and I wish I didn't, too, but I'm not having it, you fucked-up waste of space."

Malik's voice rose in his passion, cheeks flushing with anger. "I am not going to stand by and watch you throw your life away like this, do you hear me?" he yelled. "It's not fair!"

Once upon a time, Bakura would have exploded with rage, possibly flung his mug at the wall, screamed in Malik's face that nobody knew the concept of unfairness better than Bakura did...but he'd long since lost any will to fight his corner, so instead, he just grunted, pushed Malik aside, and trailed to the sofa before collapsing on it and curling up, sipping his coffee. Malik stared after him, his wide eyes magnified by the ridiculous glasses he wore.

"Where are you staying?" Bakura asked. His eyes trained firmly onto his mug with a resolve to steer well clear of Malik.

"At Ryou and Kek's place for the time being." Malik moved a little closer, eyebrows raised. "Why? You're not inviting me to stay here, are you?"

Bakura snorted. "Fuck, no. I don't want some kid running around under my nose all the time."

"Bakura, I'm twenty-five, not ten."

"Has it really been that long?"

"You'd probably have noticed if you hadn't become such a fucking drunk."

Malik's words should have stung. They should have been slapping some sense into Bakura and making him realise there was more to life than wallowing in his own guilt and self-pity; this he knew for a fact, he wasn't ignorant to psychology. What a shame, then, that he just didn't give enough of a fuck to care.

Bakura turned away from Malik completely. The act was childish, but he didn't feel up to indulging his old friend's ridiculous attempt at altruism. "Feel free to come back when I'm not hungover as hell, Ishtar, but I just don't want to deal with you right now, okay?"

"Bitch, you're always hungover."

"So see you never, then."

"You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"When have I ever not been? Now, are you done? Why don't you saunter off back to Ryou's and put some contacts in - you don't suit the four-eyed look."

That was enough for Malik's jaw to tighten considerably, and Bakura grinned into his coffee, knowing he'd won. "Hmph, say it like you mean it, Bakura," Malik sniffed.

"Sure thing!" Bakura looked up, a false, sickly-sweet tone creeping into his voice. "In fact, I'll even spell it out for you, word by word - I'm. Fucking. Sick. Of. Looking. At. Your. Stupid. Face! There, wasn't that easy to understand?"

Malik's cheeks flushed with obvious fury. With no more words, he turned on his heel, flipped the latch on the front door, and marched out, letting the door slam behind him.

Good fucking morning to you too! Bakura drained the rest of his coffee and dropped the empty mug to the floor before lying back down. Malik was a pain in the ass, but he could deal with that later…after he'd caught another few hours of sleep.