Chapter Five
Wedsnday Evening
7:00 PM, Teachers Dormitories
Room 512
Marik Ishtar
It was a Wedsnday night, and Marik was merely preparing supper. His little dwelling was composed of an attached office (with a seperate door leading out to the hallway), a bathroom (tub, shower, toilet and sink, all the necessities.), a small dining area that sort of merged with the kitchen (a stove, a mini-fridge, sink, counter and table.) and his bedroom/living room. It appeared much like a bachelor suite, which fitted Marik's needs quite fine.
On this particular Wedsnday night, Marik was setting up the stove for some light cooking. Okay, well, Marik actually had no idea how to cook very well - he wasn't exactly what you would call a 'culinary expert.' Hence, tonight he was eating yet another round of RAMEN (a boxful as a gift from Bakura - authentic Japanese Ramen and not that terrible English-dubbed stuff.) and some vegetables. Touzoku was on his way over from room 522, since Touzoku was an even worse cook than Marik (the only thing that man knew how to do was a damn good BBQ.).
The school technically served very good food - a feast, one could call it - every night at 6:00PM for supper in the Main Hall. The Main Hall was ...just that, a great long hall that was filled with tables. One side was reserved for the boys, the other side for the girls, and up at the front, there was a long table, just for teachers. It was here where most students and teachers gathered for their meals. From 6:30 -7:45 breakfast was served. At 12:00 lunch was served, and at 6:00 there was dinner. Normally both Marik and Touzoku preferred to eat in the Main Hall - the food was rather good; but tonight, Marik had too much work to do and missed dinner. Hence, here he was, waiting for Touzoku (who was practicing again.) with some good old Bakura-approved-Japanese-Ramen.
While waiting for the noodles to boil and for his friend to arrive, Marik began to wander around his little apartment aimlessly. He entered his living room/ bedroom (sofa-bed, wheee!) and that's when he noticed the three shirts lying on his bed.
The two were the ones from the store- one white and one black; they weren't even unfolded yet, still in their packaging. The other was his own good shirt, clean, good as new, lying folded oh-so-neatly and just-the-way-he-liked-it on the bed.
The image of the boy who took them floated into his head. During lunch, Ryou had stopped off the dirtied shirt back at Marik's classroom. Marik hadn't been around to accept it; he merely found the shirt, bagged, packaged, stuck to the front of his door with a sticky note that said "From Whyte."
In a great span of less than two days, Marik's usual route of normality was being jarred. He took it as another challenge though - after all, life popped up with many things that he couldn't control. Like his father dying, for instance.
Marik scowled at the mere thought of his father. He turned away from the shirts and went back into the kitchen, picking up a knife and snapping a block of noodles violently.
Yes...that idiot of a father...
He left the knife on the table, and returned to his bed. Slumping onto it, he stared at the shirts - what exactly was he supposed to do with those? It wasn't as if he wanted to show the boy he wanted to get close or anything...
Then again, English customs were stranger than Egyptian's sometimes. Perhaps if he didn't wear them, the boy would be offended. ...But then why would Marik care about the boy being offended anyways?
At that last statement, Marik sort of came to his decision. Perhaps if he just left the boy alone and never saw him again, perhaps nothing will happen.
But do you want -
A knock came on Marik's door, interrupting his thought. The knock, though, was extremely short and was followed by a burst of the door slamming open. Marik didn't even need to look up to know that Touzoku had made his entrance.
"Man what a practice!" Touzoku exclaimed, not even so much as a 'hello' in greeting. "I swear, some of these kids have forgotten how to shoot balls over the weekend..." Here, Touozoku stopped, then snickered. "Heh heh, shooting balls...that reminds me..."
"Don't," Marik held up a hand, but he was smirking. "No more with the perverted jokes of Touzoku-bad-assness."
"Aw," Touzoku 'whined', punching Marik lightly in the arm. "You're no fun. Who else am I going to gloat to when I have someone to shoot balls with?"
"Don't. Even. Go there." Marik stood up and wandered into the kitchen. Touzoku smirked.
"Aw, the itty bitty bachelor hasn't found a heart-cock companion."
Marik shook his head at the randomness of his friend. "And you have, excuse me?"
"Of course not," Touzoku snorted, sitting himself down on Marik's sofa-bed. "I just like teasing you to see if you even bother trying to knock it up with someone."
"There's really not many people available in our vicinity," Marik replied, sliding in the noodles into the pot. Touzoku sniffed the air -
"Noodles!"
"Yes, Touzoku. Noodles."
"Hey, you got any of that veggie-burger stuff? Or some of that tofu-turkey? I could roast that if you want."
Marik shook his head. "Hell no. You're not charring my food."
Touzoku snorted in response, and Marik distinctly heard the sound of the other landing on his bed. A crinkle of plastic.
"...Dude. New shirts? I thought we weren't going shopping till the end of this month."
Marik put the lid onto the boiling pot. "Shit. No, those aren't new shirts."
"Judging from the packaging and the barcode at the corner, I'd say they're new."
"No." Marik came back out to snatch those things back.
"Oh? Then who are they from?" Touzoku asked, suddenly interested. "Last time I checked, our budget wasn't entirely good for fifty-dollar shirts apiece."
"It's nothing." Marik chucked the shirts into his closet. Touzoku snorted in disbelief.
"Yeah right. You better not be hoarding any of our money. I may not get finances, but I worked my ass off getting that money-"
"Shut up already," Marik rolled his eyes. "I haven't been hoarding our money - it's sitting in the bank, the emergency provisions are in a safety deposit box in my room - you can go check, if you still have the key, dimwit, - and everything else we have is split." He heard the pot rattling, and slid it off the stove, shutting it off.
"So what, they were a gift?" Marik really didn't like the sneaky tint Touzoku's voice was sporting.
"...I guess you could call it that."
A burst of triumphant laughter from the other room.
"HA! And you tell me you haven't been living the scene. Who have you been shooting balls with, huh?"
"Is it everyday occurance a girl gives a man shirts for a night of sex?" Marik asked sarcastically. Touzoku thought about it.
"Unless you were an idiot enough to leave you shirt there with her..."
"Oh shut up." Marik chucked some Ramen at Touzoku's head - the eldest merely ducked easily and caught it in his hand.
"Hn. Ramen." He inspected it. "Huh. Must be authentic Japanese. I can't read it." He looked up at Marik again. "These are the ones Bakura gave you for your last b-day?"
Marik nodded.
"Huh." Touzoku snorted and crushed the bag in his hands alone. "Figures. I think his present to me for my last b-day was a candle."
"It's the thought that counts," Marik retorted, grabbing the pot. He walked back to the "living room", picking up two bowls and forks along the way. He threw these items at Touzoku, who caught them deftly in his hands, before putting the pot on the bed.
"You spill one fucking thing, you're hanging from my ceiling fan again, you got it?" Marik threatened. Touzoku snorted and swore in return.
"Fuck off. I won't ruin your precious bedspread."
Scowling, Marik eyed Touzoku as the other began to drip noodles into his bowl. Touzoku noticed Marik staring and sarcastically held up a pinky as he forked up some more noodles.
"How's this, Oh Ra-ful Godly One?"
Marik snorted and was thiiis close to hitting Touzoku across the head, but then remembered that Touzoku had a bowl of noodles and soup in his hand, so instead, Marik controlled himself and decided on hitting Touzoku later.
"So." Touzoku leaned back against the headboard as Marik helped himself. "Where did all these shirts come from, if you didn't buy them?"
"They were a gift," Marik said shortly.
Touzoku made a noise of disbelief before slurping his noodles loudly. "Uh huh. And who were they from?"
Marik growled lowly under his throat. "Not that it's any of your business."
"Of course it's not," Touzoku admonished, in an almost cheery voice. "But I just love poking fun into your personal life - you know. Cause you're always so uptight and all."
"Excuse me?" Marik actually laughed in disbelief. "Me? Uptight?"
"Well, when it comes to relationships," Touzoku slurped some more. "I mean, come on. You haven't had a decent date since like, what, when we moved here? And that doesn't count - you know, the girls we pick up once in a while. That totally doesn't count."
"They weren't that interesting anyways," Marik replied lazily, picking up a slip of green onion and flicking it away. "An occasional fuck is fine."
"I don't know...'occasional' doesn't sound like an appealing word." Touzoku crammed another mouthful into his mouth.
"Well, sex-wise, your only vocabulary consists 'every minute of every day,' so..." Marik turned back to his food. "What about you? Found someone you're interested in yet?"
"Not really." Touzoku helped himself to another bowl (yes he ate that quickly.) "Most women want committment around here. I can't give that."
Marik chuckled. "For once, you're entirely right."
Touzoku shook his head. "Whatever. So." Changing gears back quickly again, Touzoku leaned back against the headboard and gazed at Marik seriously. "Hm. Whyte, was it?"
Marik immediately scowled. "Excuse me?"
Touzoku smirked when he noticed that he had gotten a rise from the other. "Ah. I was right. You know, despite the fact my attention span seems to be fucking short, I'm not dumb." Touzoku's red-brown eyes mischeivously flickered to the closet door. "You ought to be more subtle if you want to hide something from me, Ishtar."
Marik narrowed his eyes at Touzoku. "As if knowing the giver of my shirts has any meaning at all. So? Whyte could have been anyone. Not meaning that I'm interested in him or anything."
"A him?" Touzoku repeated, laughing. "Hmn...interesting."
"Oh shut up," Marik scowled. "Apparently I still have the Ishtar touch if I can get some boy to buy me expensive shirts."
"Hn, yeah," Touzoku admitted. "Although, I think Puffhead giving you shirts is different than all those times you suckered the mothers into giving us food."
"It was your fault you broke your ankle that time and couldn't steal," Marik said darkly. "I told you not to go that way..."
"I got the goods faster, what more can I say?" Touzoku waved the subject away. "And my ankle's fine now, anyways."
The two lapsed into silence, as they usually did when they recalled the times when they were younger. The silence was a bit long, before Marik finally turned back to warily stare at Touzoku. He picked up his fork and began to eat again.
"What did you call Whyte?"
"You mean Puffhead?"
Marik abruptly stopped eating and looked up again. He gave Touzoku a flat, dead-panned look.
"Puffwhat?"
"Puffhead," Touzoku repeated again, stuffing more noodles into his mouth while still watching Marik. "I've never told you about Puffhead?"
Marik made a face. "I'm quite certain you didn't," he said, wrinkling his nose. Touzoku frowned.
"That's funny. I'm pretty sure I-"
"So how did you meet him, anyways?" Marik interrupted Touzoku loudly. "It's not like as if you normally have acquaintances among the English department, do you?"
Touzoku's frown deepened in thought. "No...I didn't meet him in sch--"
Immediately, Marik frowned. "You didn't meet him in school? Then where the heck did you -"
"Oh. Yeah. Right. I totally forgot." Touzoku immediately crammed more noodles into his mouth, muffling his voice. "Yeah, I met him at school."
Marik scowled supsiciously. "...Really."
"Really." Touzoku looked up, beginning to smirk. "So what... Puff- excuse me, Whyte, gave you these shirts? Well." Satisfied, Touzoku leaned back against the headbaord again, smirking triumphantly.
"I guess now I know why you've always liked purple."
Wedsnday Evening
9:00 PM, Main Office
Malik Ishtal.
Malik was heading towards the main office. It's lights were dimmed, as the secretaries had all left. All the teachers' mailboxes were inside- Malik wanted to pick up any last minute homework assignments from his students before he started marking. He was a really nice teacher that way.
Today, Malik had discarded his purple vest and black pants - instead, he was wearing a simple short-sleeved black collared shirt, with a white tie to match his khaki pants. Gold hung from his ears, neck, and wrists. The students always enjoyed his new accessories from Egypt - each piece of jewlery was linked to some sort of crazy Egyptian history, which Malik was very proud of. His clan, after all, back in Egypt, had been tomb keepers. Their clan, along with the nearby clan of the Tau, the tomb-makers, were the ones who protected the pyramids for millenniums.
Malik's major was in Egyptology. He also had a minor in History in general - hence, he was Westhall's history teacher. Most of his students enjoyed his classes - he tried making every lesson a play or a story of some sort, because history was easier to remember if it appeared like a story. This suited Malik fine - he enjoyed acting, so during classes, he was very animated about his lessons.
All the kids liked him. He was a fair marker, usually really nice when it came to lates, and just in general, Malik had something about him. Most of the younger students were simply attracted to him. He had this skill with students. Perhaps it was because he was so young (twenty four), he could relate a lot easier. Perhaps it was because he was up to date in all the current popular teenage fads. Perhaps it was also because he had the looks and voice of a hot boy-band. That was what attracted the girls, anyways.
Along with Egyptology and history, Malik's other favourite thing was Japanese pop. It seemed strange at first, to see this tanned Egyptian boy liking Japanese pop, but when one thought about it...no, it wasn't that far off to see Malk spiking his hair that teensy bit, for him to dress up in hot leather, and for him to sing and dance like any other idol. Malik didn't understand a word of Japanese, but he liked the music and the dancing ---and the occasional really hot boys that screamed gay.
No one at Westhall knew Malik's orientation. Heck...even he didn't want to think about it sometimes.
Arriving at the office, Malik took out his keys and unlocked it. Through the windows, he saw another shadow- the shadow was standing in front of the mailboxes, reading something very intently. Malik wasn't afraid; it was most likely another teacher. Clicking open the door, Malik strode inside - the person apparently heard Malik and immediately stuffed the piece of paper in his pocket. Malik raised a quizzical eyebrow but said nothing.
"Hello-"
The other merely sped past him. In the short moment when their shoulders connected, Malik could see the eyes of the person passing by - red, narrow, intense, shielded with long, dark lashes, hidden beneath the bangs. Malik blinked, but before he could register what was going on, pain shot through his shoulder and he was knocked back.
"Hey! Excuse me!" Malik grabbed his shoulder idignantly and turned back to the person, who was striding quickly and forcefully away. "OI! You! Get back here! That was rude!!"
The person stopped short of the door, and silkily turned around. Malik saw in the dim light long, layered white-...blond?...hair (it had to blond, no one had hair that white...) spilling past slim shoulders. Red eyes turned onto him under the bangs, but the man's expression was dead flat.
Malik was even more pissed off that the man wasn't replying.
"I said...that was rude! At the very least, you should apologize."
The man was silent. Malik bristled.
"Look, I said..."
"Forgive me." The two words slipped out, quick and easy. The man eyed Malik briefly and turned back around. He left the office without another word.
Properly offended, Malik merely stood there, very unhappy. Huffing, Malik turned back around.
"Some people," he muttered. He turned to his mailbox and slid out two, maybe three late assignments. He tucked them underneath his arm and was about to leave when he noticed a bright yellow slip stuck to the inside of his mailbox.
"...?" Malik reached in and pulled it out.
To Mr. Malik Ishtal of Westhall Boarding School
Congratulations. Your presence is required at the International Historical Gala this year. We are delighted to inform you that this year, a musical script of Beethoven has been discovered. On March the 13th, 2007, we will have a talented artist attempt to recompose the script for us. Perhaps this musical depth will allow the rest of us historians to have greater depth in the knowledge of the French Revolution.
Your attendance is mandatory. The conference will begin at 6:00 sharp. Enclosed is your ticket and a map to the Antoinette Chalet.
Best regards,
The International Historical Gala Committee.
Malik frowned. March the 13th? But that was...
"Oh no!" Malik crumpled the note and jammed it into his pocket. "That's a Friday!""
Thursday
4:00 PM
Main Office
It was a Thursday afternoon now - every teacher had staff meetings on Thursdays with their department. Thankfully, they were finished now, hence why Marik was heading down to the main office to pick up his mail. After picking up his mail, he was then off to his classroom - some of the semestered classes had a midterm coming up, so now Marik had another session on Thursdays to tutor them. Kazuhiro had done well on his proofs exam, and was now Professor Ishtar's official Proof Helper.
On his way out the back door, Marik had to pass by the copier in the back. He was just about to open the door when someone by the copier caught his eye...
Ryou Whyte, that clumsy English teacher, was trying to copy what seemed like a large tower of files, but was apparently having difficulties. HIs long white hair was disheveled out of his ponytail, and his sleeves were rolled up. Marik caught sight of pale, slender arms attempting to squish the cover of the copier down. Jean-clad legs were spread for balance - Marik smirked. What a nice ass...
"Having a bit of trouble?" Marik asked, coming up behind Ryou. Startled, Ryou jumped up and accidentally bumped into Marik's chest. The white-haired one quicky turned around.
"Ah! Marik!" Ryou let out a sigh of relief. "Er! I mean - Professor Ishtar! You gave me such a fright!"
"Bit intense, are we?" Marik drawled. Ryou's cheeks briefly pinked, but he looked more defiant than embarrassed.
"It's this --- terrible copier," Ryou said, looking a little tired and exhausted. "It keeps on printing my pages slanted..."
"That's what it tends to do," Marik said, looking at the copier disdainfully.
Ryou sighed. "I can't wait for the school to get a new one - this old one's been here for decades!"
"No, it's just incompetent," Marik said. He eyed Ryou ...pouting? ... at the copier, and rolled his eyes. "Here." He shoved Ryou out of the way. "What do you want to copy?"
Ryou turned his big wide eyes on Marik again. "Huh?"
"What do you want to copy?" Marik repeated again.
Ryou furrrowed his eyebrows lightly. "Ah...well, it's just the seventh years' and their Extended Essays...It's all aligned but it won't copy straight."
"That's fine." Marik placed a hand on the side of the copier. "Now watch."
Shoving Ryou aside, Marik began to examine the copy machine. Obediently, Ryou stood back, watching as Marik looked here, prodded here, jiggled with the thing there. Anxiously, Ryou tried to look over Marik's shoulder, but to no avail -he couldn't tell what the other was doing.
Finally, Marik stepped back. He looked at Ryou like a mechanic would after a car-check up. Marik pointed a finger at the copier machine, his finger looking like a gun.
"That." He looked at Ryou again. "Is your problem."
Ryou followed Marik's finger with his eyes, but saw nothing out of the ordinary." ...Oh." Ryou said.
"And this," Marik stepped back; his right leg was pulled back a little, "is how you fix it."
WHACK.
"OH MY GOSH!!" Ryou spazzed. "Marik!! Did you just -"
"Give it a good kick, right there," Marik said, smirking. He patted the machine, which was beginning to whirl and click as if alive. "There. That should work."
Ryou looked disbelieving. Marik snorted and pressed the green button.
"Don't trust me?"
Three sheets of paper came shooting out onto the tray at the side. Immediately, Ryou rushed over to check the pages...
"Oh my gosh," Ryou repeated again. "They're straight."
He looked up at Marik in disbelief. Marik's smirk grew smug and he held out his hands.
"What can I say? I'm a genius."
4:26 PM
Random Hallway
Marik was still pleased when he had left Ryou at the copier's. The white-haired boy was so amazed that he had almost tentatively pushed the green button again to see if Marik wasn't fooling him. Marik wasn't. Ryou was overjoyed and looked like as if he came thiiis close to giving Marik a hug. Unfortunately, Marik had gotten distracted - a few students had come by asking him if he was going to open the door to his classroom soon. Remembering he had to tutor, Marik quickly left. As he left the main office, he looked back and saw Ryou gleefully pressing the green button over and over again, happy that the copier was finally doing something right.
He was walking down the hallway, feeling distinctly proud for showing off. He wasn't sure why, but he liked the look on Ryou's face when Ryou spazzed at him. It looked so dumbfounded that it was almost...cute.
Marik stopped himself. Did he just...find another man...cute?
Smirk wiping off entirely, Marik shook it off. No, really, it wasn't the time to get interested in a companion, even though Touzoku kept on insisting that he had to get laid sometime. Personally, Marik's orientation interests had never been a problem - sex was sex, lust was lust, no matter who it was. He had never given it a second thought and was always comfortable with his orientation.
Marik paused, and smirked thoughtfully. For a boy, Ryou had a really nice ass.
Turning around the corner, someone bumped into his side. Grumbling, Marik was not happy that this week everyone seemed to be bumping into him - although this time, it wasn't Ryou.
"Huh? Oh." Malik stepped to the side. "Ra, Marik, look where you're going."
"Excuse me?" Marik repeated. "Look where I'm going? I was looking perfectly fine until you come along, haphazardly, not even looking up-"
Malik rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He stopped and noticed a crumpled yellow note on the floor. "Oh sho-"
"What?" Marik saw Malik's gaze and picked up the yellow note before Malik could get at it. Malik was immediately indignant.
"Excuse me? Violating privacy!" Malik reached out to snatch it from Marik but Marik was too tall.
"Hm? What was that?" Marik asked sardonically. "I don't remember helping other people to pick up their trash was violating privacy."
Malik growled and looked as if he wanted to kick Marik very hard. "Give it back, jerkass."
"Ah, Malik, you're too kind to me," Marik smirked, ignoring the smaller one and uncrumpling the note. He read it much to Malik's annoyance, even holding it up above Malik's head and reading the note against the lights of the ceiling. Malik frowned and grumbled.
"...Friday night?" Marik snorted, lightly throwing the paper back at Malik. "Let me guess - you forgot about it entirely and then you left it last minute and now you have some pain-in-the-ass rescheduling to do?"
Malik bristled. "For your information, I got it last night," Malik said huffily.
Marik's smirk grew. "But I'm right about the last minute pain-in-the-ass rescheduling, aren't I?"
Malik scowled darkly at Marik. "Oh shut up."
Marik laughed, a somewhat hard sound. "So is that why you're looking so frazzled? Trying to get some last minute things done before Friday?"
Malik glared at Marik in response. "For your information, I'm actually rescheduling for a friend."
"Huh. A friend," Marik repeated, as though he had rarely heard this word. "...What is it, one of those...what do you call...companions, am I right? The type of people who hang out with you because they 'like' you or actually enjoy your company..."
"Just because you were a psycopathic child and never had friends doesn't mean I can't," Malik said heatedly.
"And here I was thinking that you were getting a mail-order gay bride," Marik retorted back. Malik grimaced.
"Asshole!" Malik hissed, swinging out a leg. Marik stepped to the side coolly.
"So who's your little friend, if not a mail-order gay bride?" Marik asked conversationally. "It better not be that ass of a dog again ---"
"Shut up," Malik hissed again. "And it's not like it's any of your business."
"Why are you even rescheduling for a friend, anyway?" Marik asked loudly, ignoring Malik's last statement.
Malik bristled again. "Because if I don't bring him out, he's going to remain cooped up in his miserable house and never have a social life?"
Again, Marik laughed. "Interesting. And who is this friend of yours?"
Malik glared. "I'm surprised you even care."
"Oh I don't, really I don't."
"...Idiot." Malik tried to step to the side again. Marik stopped him.
"Who's this friend?"
Malik looked up, lavender eyes glaring intensely at Marik's amethyst.
"...You wouldn't know him."
"Try me."
"..." Malik finally sighed. "...Ryou Whyte, from English."
Slightly surprised, Marik stepped back and crossed his arms thoughtfully. "...Whyte, did you say?" he asked, his voice low and quiet and thoughtful.
Malik didn't notice the change of atmosphere. "Yes, Whyte, now if you will excuse me -"
"OI! THERE YOU ARE, ISHTAR!"
Startled by the loud voice, Malik jumped a little bit. Marik, however, was long used to this voice.
"...Hello, Touzoku."
The gym teacher was walking up behind Marik, a few papers clutched in his hand. His toned muscles were glistening slightly; his muscle shirt was all messed up, his socks were swimming at his ankles, and his sneakers were undone. Malik saw the oldest one striding towards them and smirked.
"Speaking of one of those 'companions'..."
"Oh shut up."
Touzoku came up behind Marik and roughly grabbed the other's shoulder. He nodded at Malik. "Hey."
Malik smiled. "Hey."
Touzoku held up a finger. "Excuse me for the interruption. You get him back after about...five minutes."
"Oh, it's fine, I really don't want him back," Malik smirked. Touzoku snickered.
"Hmn, neither do I. Aw, poor Marik, he's unwanted."
Marik shot Touzoku a dark glare and clenched one of his fists over his crossed arms. "You want me to stick your miserable excuse for a cock where the sun doesn't shine?"
Touzoku ignored Marik. "Anyways." He waved the papers in his hand absentmindedly. "Sorry to tell you about this - you guys will have to go on Bachelor's Night out without me tomorrow."
Marik immediately frowned at this news, not happy at all. "Excuse me?"
Touzoku held up his hand. "Don't shoot me, Ra." Touzoku waved the papers again. "Tournament starts this week. We're going to be away for most of the weekend for opening ceremonies - not like anyone gives a fuck for those things anyway."
Marik's scowl did not lighten up. "...We have resevervations."
"We always have reservations," Touzoku retorted. He waved the papers again in front of Marik's face, as though they included the revelation Marik needed to see. "Look, I'm sure Mai won't miss us this week. We can always go on Sunday after I come back."
Marik was still not happy. Touzoku groaned and landed an arm against the wall.
"For fuck's sake, Marik - it's only this week. Bakura can't make it either."
"What?" Marik stood up straight, totally not happy now at all. "What -"
"He's got some fancy fucking Gala thing to go to," Touzoku waved his hand, not really caring. "I don't know. Something preppy. He wanted me to pick up some roses for him on the way out because he can't bear to leave his precious piano. I denied, of course." Touzoku said that as though it were the most obvious thing of the world- him? A fucking sexy basketball coach, buy roses? HA! Never.
Marik sighed, glaring darkly at Touzoku. Touzoku rolled his eyes.
"Ra, Marik, let it go, it's just this week."
Marik rolled his eyes too. "...Fine." He turned away from Touzoku. "I'll cancel our reservations."
Touzoku grinned. "Excellent." He turned back to look at Malik. "Well. I guess I should be on my merry fucking way." He punched Marik in the arm. "See you later, Ishtar." He nodded at Malik. "Ishtal."
And he left around the corner, on his merry 'fucking' way.
Sighing, Marik uncrossed his arms and shook his head. Another nice reservation, down the drain...
"Ah, if you don't mind me asking..." Malik took a step up to Marik warily. "Where was your reservation?"
"The Red Sparrow," Marik said shortly, reaching for his back pocket for his cell phone. "I don't know, I was planning on going somewhere else this weekend - but we always make a reservation with them by default..."
"Well..." Malik thought about it. "...You don't have to cancel it."
Marik stopped - he was about to flip open his cell. "Excuse me?"
Malik sighed and crossed his arms too. "...Look, normally, I wouldn't do this, but I haven't found anyone else I can trust to take Ryou out...not that I trust you, of course..."
"...Excuse me?" Marik repeated again. He couldn't quite believe to what this was leading up to. If it was...
Malik sighed again. "...I don't know, I wouldn't usually trust Ryou with you, but ...seeing as you're a better candidate than some random other teacher that Ryou doesn't know..." Sighing again, Malik took out a fifty from his back pocket. "Would you mind taking him out for me this Friday night?" He held out the fifty.
The other Egyptian eyed the fifty incredulously. " You. Want. Me. To take..."
"Oh shut it," Malik stuffed the fifty into Marik's hand. "Just take him out. Bring him to the Red Sparrow - I brought him there last week, he'll like it. I'd rather him hang out with you than give him the temptation to be cooped up in the house again."
Marik gave Malik a look of utter incredulity. He was about to throw the fifty back and deny, when he thought about it.
A Friday night with Whyte...
He slowly switched his gaze to the fifty in his hand. ...This could be a good opportunity...He smirked.
"Whoa, I don't like the look on your face," Malik said warily. "You better not scar him for life or I'm coming after your ass, you got it?"
Chuckling, Marik pocketed the money. "Don't worry your blond pretty head," Marik said smoothly. "I'll be civil, I promise."
"You better be..." Malik slowly took a step to the side. "I don't normally let Ryou hang out with my psycopathic cousin, but..." He gave something akin to a helpless shrug.
Smirking, Marik patted the pocket with the fifty in it. He gave Malik a bit of a sinister chuckle.
"What are families for?"
Whoa, that was a bit weak at the end, but I was really tired. I have a packed two weeks ahead of me, so I might not update as frequently, so please give me a lot of reviews to keep me going! I have a terrible chemistry lab to do tomororw and just...two crazy weeks coming up. Please read and review tons!!
Love, AphroditeLove