Chapter Four
After the rather eventful Friday night, the rest of the weekend was remarkably boring in comparison. The weekend passed quickly, mostly because Bakura had disappeared to his basement to compose with a cup of tea,(he owned his own flat, unlike Touzoku and Marik.), Marik woke up late and began to mark (he liked to keep on top of his work, no sense delaying it last minute.) and Touzoku had a very bad hangover, slept in until five to three (as predicted), scrambled out in five minutes flat to get to his practice. (On his way, he had spilled Marik's coffee all over Bakura's floor. Bakura had not been the least bit pleased, and had poured himself another cup of tea.)
The rest of the weekend continued in such a manner. Occasionally they got together to watch a horror movie or two, before disappearing off to do their own little things. Touzoku had left sometime early Sunday morning because Marik and Bakura were "too boring" - so the eldest left to the nearest basketball court to have a little fun.
Sunday night flew by, and Monday morning arose. The three of them, Monday morning, arrived at their usual time(s): Marik first, at 7:30 AM and no earlier, no later; Touzoku last, nearly 3 minutes late for his first class; and Bakura somewhere in between, as no one ever really knew when Bakura got to school, he was always so illusory about it.
Thus, another week started, as normally as it always did. No change, no alternations, nothing out of the ordinary as another day at Westhall continued.
Monday morning
7:17 AM
Ryou was late. Really really really late.
After Friday night, he and Malik had spent a lot of time over the weekend at movies, arcades, and playing board games together. (Ryou was a huge fan of RPG board games so they spent most of Saturday doing that.) But that meant that Ryou's workload of marking and lesson-planning was left until Sunday to do - while he had finished, he had went to bed at around two in the morning. Thus, he woke up late for once, and was scrambling around like crazy on a Monday morning to get things prepared.
Eggs, bacon and hash browns were sizzling in the pan as he gathered his folders (neat, of course, but they were beginning to get mussed up from him panicking.) He stuffed his bag full of files and books, before piling everything else up that didn't manage to fit. The eggs began to burn - Ryou quickly took off the pan and shut off the oven, before shoving all the breakfast goodies onto a plate.
He didn't have any time for breakfast. Hectically,he threw on his coat, his bag, and gathered up his huge pile of books, files and paper. Lastly, he grabbed his thermos and stacked it on top of his books. Hastily, he gathered his things and sped out of his flat.
7:50 AM
Westhall Boarding School
Professor Marik Ishtar was a very serious man. While most students admired him, there was always something strangely authoritative about his atmosphere. He was the type who spoke little unless it was with someone of familiar acquaintance, and when he did speak, he possessed a deep, low voice that could either mimic that of a godly figure or a deadly villain.
Outside educational atmosphere though, Marik knew himself to be a very indifferent man. He knew he was extremely determined, masterfully authoritative, but emotionally-wise, he couldn't care less about one thing from another. He knew he liked girls, fine wine and food, and dancing. He also knew he didn't like eating meat, he didn't like cute things, and especially, really didn't like things that were out of his control.
He also knew, on a subconscious level, that he was also an extremely dominant man.
On a personal level, Marik also knew he was also very dark. He tried not to let his darker aura show at school - after all, he had to be at least partially sociable to work here. However, among himself and perhaps his closest acquaintances (-cough- Bakura and Touzoku -cough-) Marik was well aware of how his dominant side and darker side co-mingled. And Marik was perfectly fine with that.
Thus, Marik didn't quite care what others thought of him. This was simply the way he was, and there was nothing to discuss about it. Personally, Marik believed, just ignoring his personality quirks entirely could save a lot of people pain and sanity.
Therefore, Marik had a lot of things that he didn't like. He didn't like faking, didn't like ass-kissing, and most of all, didn't like close, emotional contact. Overall, Marik had no exact hatred for emotional contact, but he always thought it was an unneccesary thing and managed to live quite fine without it. Marik liked living fine without it.
This, being Marik's dark and indifferent psychology, obviously made him very anti-social, with the exceptions of dancing and hanging out at bars (-cough Friday night cough-). But of course, Marik never really cared for those instances anyway - any girl he did happen upon never stayed long enough to even be close to emotionally attachable.
On this particular Monday morning, Marik was in the staff room, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper. He was dressed in his best workshirt and tie, and smart canvas-colored pants. He looked up at the clock: 7:50 AM. He looked back at his newspaper. Good. He had at least twenty minutes before he had to leave to get to class. Class started at 8:15AM at Westhall.
Another thing Marik liked: control.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Marik slid away his newspaper, finished his coffee, and left the staff room for his classroom. He had ten good whole minutes to get there. Since Marik didn't like people either, he took a deserted route to class. Most of the students were in class by now, anyways. Being so much as a second late cost them multiple disciplines: detention, cleaning the room, hallway, etc. So most of the studetns were already in class, awaiting their teachers.
Yes, Marik liked control. He liked meeting dangerous ends, just to prove that he...yes he, Marik Ishtar, ...could overcome it like -snap- that.
Unfortunately, Marik was thinking too distantly to notice a blurry of someone turning around the corner. In the span of a second, something collided into him; books, papers, and files flew in a flurry that resembled a mushroom cloud as the two strangers crashed onto the floor.
It all happened so fast. Marik was still trying to figure out whether he should sock the person or whether to stand up first then sock the person. Most likely some stupid little student that was late for class -
Something splashed onto Marik's shirt. It was hot. It was sticky.
Marik froze.
It was on his good shirt!!
"OH MY GOODNESS!"
The chaos cleared, and Marik shook his head. He scowled lightly at the person who was interferring with his personal space. He was about to tell this person off when he realized who he was looking at.
Marik was stunned.
Lying on top of him, arms on either side, was a...he? She? Marik honestly couldn't tell.
That was when the ...person...decided to slip on the floor again. The stranger slid forward and landed onto Marik's chest clumsily. Marik's eyes shot open from the brief contact their pelvises experienced...oh yeah that was a guy.
So it was a young male ...but what a stunning young male he was. Long white hair spilled over his shoulders and into his large, deep brown eyes. His slim frame was donning a caramel sweater with stripes of a nice, complimentary tan and yellow shade. His white-collared shirt underneat was rolled up at the sleeves to his elbows, revealing delicately thin arms.
Marik blinked up into those eyes. They shone and glimmered with something akin to urgency, but Marik couldn't help but stare at them.
Those eyes - big, wide, and brown. They were frantically blinking from side to side, trying to figure out what was going on. A sense of panic aroused in those eyes as they futher flickered from one side to the next. The pale cheeks were flushed pink. The long white hair, Marik noticed, was tied loosely in a pony-tail. Marik arched an eyebrow at the pony-tail. He wondered briefly if the boy had ever let his hair loose before.
The boy's eyes suddenly locked onto his, and widened as big as saucers. The pink cheeks flushed red and the boy struggled to get off.
"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry -
Marik looked down on his shirt.
"...You stained my shirt," he said simply.
Ryou moaned silently to himself. How embarrassing!!! Here he was, sprawled out on the floor on top of some ...other man!...and he had spilled his thermos on the other!!
The white-haired one began to panic, scrambling to get all his papers and books into one arm and trying to apologize by waving the other.
"Oh!! Ohmygoodness, I'm so sorry - Here, let me clean that up for you -"
The thinner one instinctively grabbed a napkin and leapt forward to wipe at the other's shirt; but a tanned, strong hand flew from out of nowhere, and grabbed the Ryou's arm, nearly snapping it.
Immediately, Ryou gasped in pain and released his grip on the napkin. He turned his eyes up to the blond-haired man, wondering detachedly about the frighteningly fast reflex the man possessed.
Those amethyst eyes remained on his, unblinkling, unmovingly. Those beautiful eyes were half-lidded, yet focused at the same time, as though the other was eying him with the same amount of interest as one does when passing by sign on the road. The grip lessened slightly, but barely.
The grip suddenly disappeared. "Excuse me," the other said abruptly. He pushed Ryou off of him, and sat up properly. "Personal space and all that jazz."
Ryou smiled weakly at the other's attempt at humor - though it was very dry.
"I understand," Ryou bent down to pick up the rest of his junk. "Oh...oh dear," Ryou began to scramble on the floor agian. "Oh dear - thank goodness I numbered this pages..."
Marik was about to stand, but seeing the smaller one still on the floor in a desperate attempt to pick up his papers, Marik sighed and remained as he was. The smaller one was frantic about picking up his papers- rolling his eyes discreetly, Marik swiped out one hand gracefully and slid all the papers into his hand. The smaller one paused and looked up, his wide, big brown eyes at the stack of paper Marik now offered.
"Here." He thrusted the papers to the younger male, startling him. "I'm afraid I can't help you with the numbering of your pages - " He started to stand. "I should get going now - I will be late."
The younger one stood up quickly too, albet clumsily. The cloud of papers, folders, books and thermos were still all balanced haphazardly in his arms. Despite the craziness of the situation, Marik distinctly found himself finding the white-haired male almost...cute.
The younger one blushed, a pretty pink color that somehow matched his eyes. When he spoke, he was stuttering most adorably.
"OH!! Ohmygosh, you're right, I'm sorry- I didn't mean to detain you - Eeep!"
The open thermos came flying once more; thankfully, Marik caught the airborne hell-raiser before it did anymore damage.
"Does your ...insurance cover all this?" Marik asked, smirking when the white-haired one nearly stumbled in an attempt to reorganize the things in his hands.
"Ha ha, very funny," the younger male struggled to pack his papers into a folder. "Ohmygosh-good grief, I --"
"Here." Losing some of his patience, Marik gave up trying to be polite and shoved the white-haired male to the side of the wall. Heaters ran along the side of the school, and thankfully they were rectangular-shapped, which made seating very convient. It was upon these heaters that Marik shoved the younger one onto, before taking the mess of things and dropped them onto the heater, beginning to sort them out.
In a very definite and commanding manner, the blond-haired teacher then began to sort through Ryou's things - books here, coffee there, papers there, folders here. Even though the papers weren't in the right order, they soon were straightened, thrown in randomly in a folder, and the folder was then stacked between two heavy books. Finally, like topping off ice-cream with a cherry, he added the nearly-empty thermos cup at the very top of the pile.
"There." He stood back. "There you go." He slid the things over to Ryou, who met them with open arms. "Good?"
Ryou lifted his head to gaze at the teacher, embarrassedly. "Yes...yes, thank you." Ryou then stood up, balancing everything in a much more ordered fashion. The cup came up to just under his eyes. "Sorry about the mess -"
"It's no problem," Marik said succinctly. Ryou blushed agian and shyly held out his hand.
"...Er...I'm Ryou Whyte," he blushed again and was thankful for the books that were hiding his face.
The man took his hand in a firm but very brief shake. "Ishtar," the other said shortly. He stopped a little and gazed at Ryou a little. "...English Department, I'm assuming?"
Ryou nodded. "Er...yeah, I am." He felt his face going warm again and ducked a little behind his books. "Pleased to meet you."
Marik nodded before taking off his jacket and flipping his tie over his shoulder. "Nice to meet you too," he said offhandedly. "Listen, I really hate to cut this short, but my class is waiting. You sure you can handle from here to the Language Wing?"
"Er..." Actually Ryou was very doubtful, but if he was careful, he guessed he could make it. "Yeah. Yeah I can."
Marik nodded indifferently, looking much more concerned about his shirt. "Alright then. Well - I'll see you later."
Not even waiting for a goodbye from Ryou, Marik began walking in the other direction, analyzing his shirt. Gaining his senses, Ryou turned around to call out (the books swayed dangerously in his arms). "Wait! Wait!"
Marik stopped and turned around, amethyst eyes slightly annoyed. "Yes?"
Ryou carefully stepped around, so his books wouldn't fall over. "What shirt size are you?!"
Marik blinked, totally surprised. "Excuse me?"
"What shirt size are you?"
"..." Marik looked at his own shirt now, stained. "..Medium?" he answered, wondering what the hell was going on here.
"And your favourite color?"
"...Black," Marik answered again, beginning to be totally confused. "What -"
"Thank you!" Ryou smiled brightly and nodded his head. He turned around and began to hurry off. "Sorry for making you late!" The white-haired male continued down the hall, before turning the corner. "Goodbye!"
And there, in the middle of the hall, poor Marik was standing. Even though the boy was long gone, Marik raised a hand, and gave a hesitant wave.
"...Yeah...bye?"
The rest of the day cotinued as ordinary. By the end of the day, Marik had almost forgotten that he had met the English teacher that morning.
Tuesday
1:45 PM, Period 3
Mathematics Class
Marik Ishtar
A knock came on his classroom door. Looking up, Marik paused from his marking - his students were working steadily on their homework assignment. Frowning lightly, Marik stood up and walked briskly to the door - none of the students were distracted, thankfully. The lesson was hard enough as is without any other disruptions.
Arching his eyebrow, Marik turned the knob and opened the door. He expected to see someone at face-level, perhaps Touzoku demanding to borrow another T-shirt because he had violated the school dress code again, but actually, when Marik first opened the door, nothing met him face to face.
It was then when he heard the softest of shoe-scruffles that he looked down just a fraction. The English teacher of the day-before was looking up at him, looking awkwardly shy and holding a package in his hands.
"Marik Ishtar?"
Marik immediately scowled, but he was a little surprised at the male who was standing before him.
"Ishtar. Professor Ishtar."
The boy - ...Ryou Whyte, was his name? - immediately blushed and bowed his head.
"Excuse me...Professor Ishtar." He looked a little past Marik and the doorframe. "Ah...I'm not disrupting anything, am I?"
"Huh? Oh no." Marik quickly closed the door. "...No. Of course not." He made sure the door was securely shut, and then turned back to the English teacher. "So. What precisely is the importance of this...special occasion?"
The English teacher looked up at him, before laughing a little shyly. He held out the package.
"This - er...well, this is for ..." The boy took a deep breath, as he seemed rather flustered. "About yesterday...I'm terribly sorry about the spilling and the ruining of your shirt. These..." The boy held them out to Marik. "...These are for you."
Totally surprised, Marik took the package warily into his hand. Arching an eyebrow, he unwrapped it - lying in his hands were two medium work shirts - one black, and one white. They were folded and wrapped immacuately.
Marik raised his other eyebrow. This had come totally out of nowhere and Marik wasn't entirely sure what to say.
"Ah." He looked at them for a little bit, trying to figure out how to answer. "...Well, you didn't have to, really." He looked up to the boy again. "Really. The shirt's fine. It's just coffee."
"It was um...hot chocolate, actually," Ryou corrected.
"Hot chocolate?" Marik repeated. "Oh, that makes it loads better now. Rather than hot, tangy, bean-drained coffee, my shirt is now soaked with hot, sugary lovey-dovey sweetness!" Marik was about to continue, but when he saw Ryou's partially disappointed look, he decided to stop. "You like hot chocolate?" Marik asked, never actually having tasted hot chocolate before.
Ryou looked up. "Oh..yes, yes I do!" His big brown eyes twinkled as he smiled happily. "Yes - I love hot chocolate."
"You're not a coffee person?"
Ryou shook his head. "No, not really - I do drink it sometimes, but I'm not one for much caffeine..."
Marik nodded a little. He looked down at the shirts, all immaculate and neatly folded, just like he liked it. "Well...thank you," he said, gesturing to the shirts. Ryou blushed and shook his head.
"It's alright," Ryou assured. "I hope they fit you well though - if not, the receipts inside...if they don't fit or anything, you can always go back to get something a little more, you know, for you..."
Marik arched his eyebrow. "...Yeah, well, I'll see," he said, tucking the shirts under his arm. "Well, listen, I have to..."
"Have you ...washed the shirt from yesterday?" Ryou asked suddenly. Marik arched his other eyebrow, making both of them disappear into his hairline.
"...No, I was planning to take it to the dry-cleaner's..."
"Oh no, you shouldn't," Ryou said quickly. "Dry-cleaners are notoriously expensive for something so small...if you still have it, I could wash it for you -"
"You can wash it for me?" Marik repeated, totally dumbfounded. "Whatever for-?"
"Chocolate stains are really easy to get out," Ryou explained. "Well, with this little trick I do at home - baking soda really helps with stains like those -"
Marik leaned against the doorframe, slightly amused now. "So what, are you a housekeeper by night or something?" Ryou looked up blankly. "Teacher's pay not good enough?"
Here, Ryou flushed, laughing shyly a little. "Er...no no, really - it's just...I find I save more money cleaning my stuff on my own, rather than bringing them to the dry-cleaner's, or waiting for the school custodian to take another load of laundry..." Ryou looked up again at Marik. "If you want, I could um...drop by later today, after school - and maybe pick it up - I promise I'll have it cleaned by tomorrow..."
Marik was having a bit of a hard time processing all this at once. "Sure, I guess," he said, answering the first thing that came to mind. "Although, I have some work to do, and the shirt is in my room..." He was referring to his teacher-residence room in the teacher dormitories. Like students, teachers had their own offices and living spaces in the school. Since Marik and Touzoku were fine with living in the school this way, they did so. Bakura, on the other hand, apparently detested living amongst the 'people of the living' (quote Touzoku), so he had his own flat.
"I can stop by your room and pick it up," Ryou assured. "What room number is it?"
Marik frowned, actually not liking it when people came to visit him in his apartment. "...You know what?" Marik stood up straight. "It's alright, really. I can just pick it up later and drop it off here after school - I have a spare next, anyways."
"You sure?" Ryou inquired.
Marik rolled his eyes. "I said it was alright, didn't I?"
Slowly, Ryou broke into a smile. He laughed a little bit.
"Yes, alright." He looked over his shoulder. "I really should get going now...my class is working in groups but I'm not sure it's a good idea."
Marik straightened from his leaning-against-the-wall. "Oh of course." He looked back at his door too. "I suppose I should head back to my class as well."
Ryou smiled. "Yes. Sorry for bothering you." Nodding his head a little bit, Ryou held out his hand. Marik merely looked at it - Ryou quickly took it back.
"Oh. Right." Ryou blushed a little. "Personal space and all that jazz."
Here, Marik couldn't help but smirk a teensy weensy bit. "Yeah."
Giggling, Ryou nodded his head again, before bowing a little. "Well...Have a good day, Professor Ishtar." He turned to leave.
"Hey." Marik called. Ryou turned around, stopping briefly. His brown eyes looked at Marik puzzedly.
"Yes?"
"You're that teacher who's teaching in the girl's wing too, aren't you?" Marik smirked. Here, Ryou blushed, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Er...yes, I am."
Chuckling to himself, Marik shook his head.
"Not that I teach the girls, but I hear you have your own fanclub. Is that true?"
The English teacher's eyes bulged out. Apparently even he didn't know that was true or not.
"I have my own..fanclub?" the teacher repeated, mortified. Marik laughed.
"I just heard down the grapevine, don't take my word for it."
Ryou made a face. "I think...I better go."
Marik laughed. "Yeah. See you."
Hastily, Ryou hurried off, quickly returning to his class. Putting the girls into groups better not have given them the inspiration to start their own fanclub...
A/N: Kinda a weak place to leave it off, but my finger was hurting quite badly by the end of this...so here's Chapter Four of Ore no Gakuen. FINALLY some MarikxRyou confrontations, etc.
Thank you for all the reviews so far and please continue to read and review! They encourage updating this fic faster!!!!!
-AphroditeLove