Ore no Gakuen
Chapter Six: First Dates Part One
Friday, 16:45PM.
Math Department
Marik Ishtar
"Thank you, Professor Ishtar," Kazuhiro said, in a relieved voice.
Professor Ishtar from behind his desk stood up. "It was nothing," Marik waved his hand absently. "You did fine on the exam. I'm sure this new unit will not be that difficult for you."
Kazuhiro smiled brightly. "It is...a little easier," the teenager admitted. Marik slid his things into his briefcase. "Thanks for all your help."
Marik waved his hand again. Kazuhiro smiled at his serious teacher and bowed a little at the waist. "Goodnight, Professor Ishtar."
Marik merely nodded in response as he watched Kazuhiro leave the classroom. As soon as the door shut, a smirk broke out across Marik's face. He put his briefcase onto his desk,and turned to his coat-hanger, where his leather jacket was waiting.
He stripped off his tie and put on his leather jacket. His pants today were black demin, straight and slimming. They were Marik's favourite pair of pants, next to his khaki pants with the big pockets.
Popping open his briefcase, Marik's smirk turned into a grin. Confidently, he picked up his motorcycle keys from the briefcase and slid them into his jacket pocket. After shutting the briefcase back, he slid it between his desk and his shelf, before heading out the door.
Along the way, he absently threw the key in the air, up and down, up and down, before catching it with his one hand. He felt good today.
After all, who wouldn't be, having a date with a certain pretty white-haired male...?
5:00PM
English Department
Ryou Whyte
The girls had all left, and Ryou was simply cleaning up the tables. They had literature circles today (Ryou's favourite) and the girls had forgotten to put their tables back into their original lines. He was wearning his usual sleeveless sweater and white shirt- he was expecting Malik to come any moment soon. Ryou was almost finished straightening the desks out when he heard a knock on the door.
Curious, Ryou walked to the door and turned the knob, expecting a small teenage girl who had forgotten her homework. Instead, he came face to chest with someone taller than he was - his eyes travelled up from that fine white shirt to the caramel throat ...to that slim but masculine chin, and finally, to those deep, amethyst eyes.
Ryou took a step back, startled.
"Professor Ishtar." Ryou looked surprised to see him. "Wha-?"
Marik smirked as he leaned against the doorframe. "Busy?"
Ryou blinked, looking very confused. "Well, I am supposed to meet a friend in a few minutes...is there something you need?" Suddenly Ryou's eyes shot wide open. "OH! I know that it is! The shirts! They're too small for you! I knew it, I knew it, I totally did NOT believe you were a medium when you said you were, I knew I should've gotten a lar-..."
"Whoa," Marik held up a hand. "Just shut up for a second." His smirk widened a little at Ryou's abrupt silencing. The math teacher was about to continue his question when he seemed to just realize something. "What...what? You didn't believe me when I said I was a medium? Excuse me, where you just implying that I was fat?"
Ryou's eyes widened again. "Oh my goodness gracious, no!" Ryou exclaimed hurriedly, his cheeks flushing immediately. "No! No! Nothing like that! Of course not! I..." Here, Ryou's cheeks glowed an even brighter red, and suddenly, Ryou turned away. "...That wasn't what I was thinking at all..."
Although Marik supposed he should be thinking something different, his mind detachedly decided that he liked seeing Ryou blush. It made the younger male look all the more...likeable.
And Marik normally did not like people.
Smirking again, Marik shook his head. "Of course not." He crossed his arms over his chest, noting Ryou's blush turn a distinctive pink shade now. "No...I was wondering...You said you were busy? Meeting a friend?"
Glad the subject was changed, Ryou managed to look up and nod. "Yes...Malik...Malik Ishtal? From Social Studies? I think you may know him..."
"Malik?" Marik pretended to think about it. "...Yes. I know him."
Ryou smiled, relieved, and nodded. "Yes - Malik's coming soon, I think...we're supposed to spend every Friday night together."
"Ah." Marik uncrossed his arms and stood up straight again. "Well...you see," he took a step forward into Ryou's room. Unconsciously, Ryou took a step back to let Marik in. "I just saw Malik and...he apparently had some urgency to deal with." He took another step forward.
"Urgency?" Ryou repeated slowly. The white-haired one took another step back again. Marik nodded.
"Urgency." They continued this game until Ryou suddenly jumped a little; he had hit the edge of his desk already. "But...he asked me to take you out instead, since apparently he believes if you remain here for at least one Friday on your own, you'll never get out of the house again. So."
Marik, who had followed Ryou, now bowed his head a fraction of an inch. His dark amethyst eyes glimmered egnimatically."I'll be your company tonight."
6:00PM
Red Sparrow Restaraunt, Main Entrance
Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte
"Funny," Ryou said as he got off the motorbike a little shakily. "...Malik had one just the same last week."
"Of course he did," Marik said. Since Ryou apparently was terrified of motorbikes, the smaller one had clung onto Marik the whole way. Personally, Marik found that he didn't mind. He held out a hand and Ryou shakily took in in both of his. "That was my motorbike."
Ryou blinked up at Marik. "You mean...you lent Malik your motorbike last week?"
"Who else owns a motorbike around this side of town?" Marik smirked. Ryou looked back at the bike.
"...It's very pretty," Ryou commented. Marik snorted.
"Well, Touzoku's first reaction was 'damn fucking hot'...I'm not sure if 'pretty' really fits..."
"Does he have a name?" Ryou asked. He looked up at Marik from the bike. Marik arched an eyebrow.
"Who?"
"Your bike."
"Why would I name my bike?"
"Because people name things that they are close too. Well, usually."
"Do you name your books?" Marik asked. Ryou blushed.
"Er...ah...no...because they already have names," Ryou answered sheepishly. He looked back at the bike. "It's ...very nice."
Marik chuckled. "You don't have to be terrified at it," he said. He patted Ryou on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's go inside."
6:00PM (sharp)
International Historical Gala
Antoinette Chalet
Malik Ishtal
The Chalet was apparently a very expensive resturaunt. Everywhere Malik looked, waiters were bringing out petite appetizers, glasses of wine, taking orders. Currently, Malik was seated in a grand hall - apparently this was the Chalet's banquet hall, for a large amount of guests - where round tables sat about everywhere, covered in fine wine-red cloths. Matching curtains draped with gold trimmings fell from the mauve walls. Malik shifted in his tuxedo. The entire place radiated class.
Malik's seat, all prettied up with folded napkins and nearly twenty different sizes of spoons, forks and knives laid out, was placed at a table in the second row from the front of the room. A grand piano stood upon steps where Malik supposed were for announcements or altars or anything ceremonial of sorts - Malik wondered if they had a karaoke machine up there too, usually places with those steppy-stage-things had a karaoke machine.
But seeing all the other patrons with their large noses and monacles, Malik doubted that very very much.
A man with very little hair and a large monocle in one eye came up onto the stage. Everyone hushed, though the waiters were still dispensing out hors d'eurvres. They continued their job as the lights dimmed and people hurried back to their seats. A large spotlight was placed on the man with very little hair and the grande piano.
"Ladies and gentleman..."
After about a few minutes, Malik had entirely tuned out. They were using musical terms that he had no idea of. Instead, Malik entertained himself by watching the man who was standing at the corner of the stage, barely hidden by the darkness. He was wearing a long black tuxedo, like Malik's, except he had several gold chains strung from his buttons to his pockets. Malik spied a strange character on each of them, but couldn't make it out. The white collared was upturned against the man's neck, and a black bow was tied across.
Malik could barely make out the man's face, but he found him alluring all the same. Deep red eyes glittered lightly in the darkness as they shifted from side to side, almost boredly.
Malik was curious. Why was that man standing there? Why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he in the spotlight or sitting down?
Malik couldn't wait to see this man finally in the light.
6:30PM
The Red Sparrow
The Favourite Booth
Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte
Back at the restaraunt, Marik and Ryou had settled down in a circular-horse-shapped booth, the same one Marik had been to last week. They talked for a little bit, Ryou looking around (as this was only his second time here).
"So do you usually come here?" Ryou asked, his arms folded on the table and smiling at Marik. Marik was seated in his corner, one arm on the table and the other spread along the top of the cushy booth.
"Usually," Marik responded. Ryou nodded.
"It's a really nice place," Ryou commented. "The food here is wonderful."
"It always is," Marik said, the hand on the table beginning to flip through the menu. Ryou noticed Marik skipping the first few pages instantly and going straight to the vegetarian section. Ryou looked at him quizzically.
"You're a vegetarian?"
"Hmn." Marik nodded, not looking up. He wasn't in a Koshari mood today.
Ryou thought about it. "...That's very interesting," he said. "...If you don't mind...why are you a vegetarian? Cultural? Health?"
"A bit of both," Marik replied. "I really have no craving for blood and meat. At least, not eating it."
Ryou blinked, not entirely sure what Marik had meant by adding "At least, not eating it." But Ryou decided not to push it.
"Malik's a vegetarian."
"Of course he is."
"How long have you known Malik?"
"Longer than I care to."
"Ah." Ryou nodded a little. "...I've never heard Malik mention you before..."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Marik replied in all seriousness. He took off his arm from the edge of the seat and finally looked up at Ryou from his menu. "But enough about me." His eyes glittered a little. "Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"
Slightly surprised, Ryou pointed to himself. "You mean me?"
"Who else would I possibly mean?"
Ryou laughed a little. "Well...My full name is Ryou James Whyte ...after my father...ah...well.."
Laughing a little, Ryou rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Well...there's really not much to say about me," Ryou admitted, giving up. Marik arched an eyebrow.
"There's nothing much to say about you," Marik repeated.
Ryou let out a soft, bashful 'heh'. "I'm ...ah...quite a plain person in comparison to anyone here ..."
"I think that's a damn lie," Marik cut in.
Ryou paused, a little surprised at Marik's bluntness. Then he laughed and blushed, looking away from Marik. "Well..." Ryou shrugged a little. "I'm pretty sure that you're more far interesting than me...where are you from again? Egypt?"
Marik nodded, Ryou beamed.
"I've always wanted to go to Egypt," Ryou said fondly, his fingers fiddling with the corner of the menu. "But I've never been out of England before - not even to the rest of Europe - Spain, France, ...I've never been anywhere."
"They're not that interesting," Marik said bluntly. He eyed Ryou lightly. "Has no one ever told you how interesting...or shall I say, how alluring... you are?"
"Alluring?" Ryou repeated,blushing. "...No," he said, looking away from Marik. "Like I said, I've always been...a little plain...a little shy..." His brown eyes shifted to the dark, wet window. "I'm not much."
Suddenly, Ryou felt a hand on his. The grip was strong, firm. Ryou turned to look back and saw Marik across the table, his large hand gripping Ryou's. Ryou's brown eyes widened a little, and the bridge of his nose turned slightly pink.
"That's a lie," Marik said simply. Ryou's pink-ness intensified.
"I...er...ah...well..."
A smirk began to spread on Marik's face. "You're very articulate for an English teacher, aren't you?"
That only sent Ryou into more flutters and titters. Marik chuckled evilly when Ryou got even more flustered because he could not speak coherently. Eventually Ryou just ended up blushing furiously, but his laughing was evident.
"Oh be quiet..."
Marik chuckled and leaned back against the chair. His hand still hadn't left Ryou's.
His laughter quietly fading off, Ryou turned and noticed Marik's hand had remained on his. Though Marik was looking in the other direction, Ryou's blush turned pink again. He wasn't sure if he liked the touch or not. But then again, it resturaunt was a bit chilly and Marik's hand was nicely warm.
Suddenly, a waitress pulled up. Ryou turned around and automatically retrieved his hand. Marik did the same.
"Don't say a word, Mai."
The blond was smirking ever so evilly. Her purple eyes were twinkling at Ryou specifically under her long eyelashes. In one hand she held up an empty tray- the other was on her hip. Even in this casual, typical waitress pose, Mai was radiating something terribly triumphant.
Ryou slowly shifted into a corner. Mai turned her head to the side and her evil expression faded away.
"Oh, honey, I'm not going to bite!" She reached over with her free hand and grabbed Ryou's hand, dragging him back out. "Come on, hon, have I ever bitten you?"
"No, but it looked like you were going to," Ryou said childishly. Mai feigned to look hurt.
"Oh honey, I thought you knew I only do that once every full moon..."
"No, just once everytime there is a moon," Marik cut in. "And you're not the only person who does the biting-"
Mai scoffed and held her tray threateningly in her arms. "You want this thing cracked across your handsome mug, Ishtar?"
Marik smirked. "No, thanks. I'd rather leave wtih my face intact, thank you very much."
"Then shut it," Mai retorted, huffing lightly. Ryou merely watched with somewhat fascination. It was like as if they were almost siblings. They smirked the same way, at least. And their similiar purple eyes twinkled the same way when they looked evilly conniving.
Ryou didn't want to think what these two did in their spare time.
"So where's Monsieur Vampire and Beef Jerky?" Mai asked, taking out a pen from her breast pocket. Marik glowered at her.
"They're ...sustained today."
"Oooh, sustained," Mai repeated. "What did you do, finally crammed Monsieur Vampire in his piano? Beef Jerky hanging from your chandelier again?"
"It was a ceiling fan," Marik stated, as if that made all the difference in the world. "And no - Bakura's at a Gala...and Beef Jerky has a tournament this weekend."
"Ah, yes," Mai said, thinking. "Something called the Omni-Britain Basketball Tournament...?"
"Don't ask me, I don't play."
"At least you know where the ball goes through what hoop."
"There are only two hoops, Kujaku..."
Ryou coughed lightly. The two stopped and Mai turned to look back at Ryou. Her eyes looked wide and innocent, as though she had just noticed him there.
"Oh hi honey! And where's your friend?"
"Malik?"
"Hn, that sexy crazy dancer last weekend," Mai smiled. "I need you to give him something for me."
"What's that?" Ryou asked.
"A waiting list," Mai smirked. "He's got tens and thousands of girls and phone numbers who want to meet up with him."
"Playing matchmaker, Mai?" Marik asked dryly.
"Only a messenger," Mai admonished. She looked between Ryou and Marik again, and that smirk returned. "...So. What can I get you two today?"
"Er...just water, please," Ryou said.
Mai looked at him skeptically. "You don't have to lose weight, honey," she said bluntly. "You're perfectly fine the way you are."
"What?" Ryou exclaimed. Marik found himself chuckling at the other end. "No, no, I'm not trying to lose -"
"I know your type too well hon," Mai said, scribbling down on her pad. "Large hot chocolate, with the works."
Smiling, Ryou shook his head, but not at Mai's decision. Mai was right. He did like hot chocolate on a cold, rainy day like this.
Well, he liked hot chocolate all the time, but that was beside the point.
"And to eat?"
"Er...Potato salad," Ryou said quickly. Mai arched another eyebrow.
"We have potato salad with breaded chicken," Mai suggested. Ryou furrowed his eyebrows and looked over at Marik discreetly. Marik shook his head.
"It's fine," Marik said. "I'm the vegetarian, not you."
Beaming, Ryou smiled and nodded. "...Yes please, the Chicken Potato Salad." He looked back over at Marik and smiled softly.
Thanks, his eyes said.
Marik smirked and shook his head.
"Oi. And you, your Majesty?" Mai didn't even bother being polite. Marik rolled his eyes.
"Must you undermine me everytime I have company?"
"But it's just so much fun, dear," Mai said, not even looking up from her pad of paper. "Do you know why Beef Jerky keeps on making bad jokes at you? It's cause it's funny to see you steam up."
Marik snorted and chucked the menu at Mai. "Vegetarian Crusty Potato Peasant Casserole." Mai wrote it down.
"Coffee?"
"...Maybe."
"Try something new, dear. We have a lovely cappucino..."
"Coffee, Mai."
"...With Earl Gray..."
"Coffee, Mai."
"And sugar."
"Coffee, Mai. Coffee. Black. Very black."
Mai rolled her eyes. "You never try anything fun," she snorted, ripping off the paper and stuffing it in her pocket.
"Black coffee is better than your version of 'try something new'," Marik retorted. "For all I know, you could be spiking my drinks out of spite."
"What makes you think I haven't tried that already?" Mai asked lightly. Marik's eye twitched.
"Get out of here!"
"Alright honey," she laughed wickedly. "Don't scare the darling off now, wouldn't want to embarrass you on your first d- Ah! Hey! Watch where you throw those things!"
"I was aiming for your head," Marik said satisfied, (he had thrown Ryou's menu at her too.) "You should be thankful, Mai. I purposely avoided the cleavage at something that's second priority."
Mai picked up the menu and made an immature face at Marik, before stalking off, her hips swaying. Ryou shrank into himself, unsure as to what to say.
"Is she er...ah...your...?"
"No," Marik cut instantly. "And let's not go any further with that."
Immediately, Ryou nodded. He sheepishly tucked a hair over his ear.
"So...are you single?" Marik asked randomly, rounding onto Ryou. Ryou was startled at the question.
"Oh! Er...yes, acutally..." Ryou laughed a bit meekly, looking out the window. "Yes. Yes, I'm single," he said more confidently, calming down. Marik arched an eyebrow.
"Really? Someone and lovely and interesting as you?"
Ryou smiled and shook his head. "I'm not...lovely or interesting, really."
"Liar."
Ryou laughed and turned back onto Marik. Marik was smirking.
"Did you at least have someone before?" Marik asked.
Here, Ryou looked thoughtful for a bit, before replying.
"...Sort of," he admitted. "But it never really became anything."
"I see. Unrequited love?"
Ryou sighed softly. "You could say that."
Marik nodded slowly. Ryou smiled a little, and gestured to the other.
"What about you, if you don't mind me asking," Ryou gestured to Marik's hand. "I don't see an engagement ring or a wedding ring."
"That's because there's no one to engage or to wed," Marik said simply.
"Are you...interested in someone?" Ryou asked cautiously. Marik snorted.
"Not really. I suppose every weekend I try to find someone - but nothing really sparks much. I'm a very picky person when it comes to relationships - better alone than with someone undesireable."
Ryou nodded slightly. "I...see."
"And you?"
"...No, I just...don't find it a top priority in my life," Ryou admitted. "Marking papers and helping around the school is already taking up a huge chunk of my time."
"I see."
Ryou smiled. He turned around and saw Mai coming back up the steps again, tray loaded.
"Oh look!! Food!!" Ryou bounced at the prospect. Marik rollled his eyes, but was smirking.
"Casserole," Mai shoved the tray against Marik. "And salad." She shoved it likewise to Ryou. "Coffee and hot chocolate." She shoved these things again and hurried off. Marik frowned.
"Kujaku!"
"Sorry, Ishtar," Mai apologized, looking a little serious and frazzled. "I've got a badass on the dancing floor causing some trouble - our bouncer's not here yet. I'll talk to you later."
Marik furrowed his eyebrows lightly. Ryou looked after Mai, a little concerned.
"I hope everything will be alright."
"I'm sure she'll be fine." Marik turned coolly to his casserole. "Kujaku's a tough woman. She can handle anything."
"You sure?" Ryou asked, worriedly.
Marik smirked. "She's put up with me, Bakura and Touzoku for a near five years in a row now. I think she'll be fine."
7:45PM
International Historical Gala
Antoinette Chalet
Malik Ishtal
Malik was getting very bored. He had nothing to do other than to listen about this man re-tell the stories of the revolutions. In truth, Malik had acutally expected the Gala to go more interestingly - what with talking to all the other patrons and historians with their theories and opinons. But this guy apparently was too in love with himself talking to stop.
"And now, we will have an example played of the sheet music on the piano..." The man looked up and smiled happily. "Please welcome, the very esteemed Bakura Akako!"
The man from the shadows finally appeared from the darkness. His long white hair flowed after him, loosely tied in a silkly black ribbon. His tuxedo was very elegant - sharp, crisp, simple and black. A black bow was tied under his collar. He was donning a dark vest underneath the jacket of the tuxedo. As he walked to the piano, slimly, elegantly, silently, Malik caught a glint of silver from one of the pockets. He was about to wonder what it was when the musician - Bakura - quietly shed his tuxedo jacket - revealing his vest, from which its pocket hung a silver chain that looped gracefully from the flattened collar of the vest. From the silver chain, a few pendants were hung, but from his distance, Malik couldn't read what they were.
A hush fell upon the audience as Bakura took his seat. His eyes never once met the audience, never once swept the chamber to gauge his viewers. He merely sat, positioned himself, and focused entirely on his music.
His slender hands were poised over the keys. Malik unconsciously bent forwards. Bakura Akako...the name sounded so familiar. Malik wasn't sure where he had heard it from. He was in the History department, after all...the History department rarely co-worked with any other department in the school...
A key rang throughout the room. It was followed by a series of them, all twinkling, all moving. The sudden sweep of the music was startling, yet swift. It lifted a part of Malik that he never knew he had, and swept it away, like a great wave sweeping his soul against a hidden contentment he had never known. Malik took a small breath of awe, gazing at the musician.
The slim, pale, skeleton hands danced, slowly, softly, then rapidly; they were so in sync with one another, complimented one another. The music entangled came out as a chorus of beauty. Malik felt himself smile.
"Have you heard this one? I love this CD. It's so twinkly."
"That's so you, Malik. I thought you liked rock."
"Well, rock is a lot of fun too, but sometimes classical is nice."
"J-Pop rendition of Beethoven isn't classified as classical, Malik."
A laugh. "Just listen to it, you'll love it."
A chuckle. "...Alright, if you say so."
A smile. "Thanks, Jyo..."
Malik quickly shook his head. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed. The music continued to sweep his way, but he wasn't sure if it was now taking his soul to a place he wanted to be.
The music turned tense, yet delicate, as though the precious melodies were hidden and strained to sound powerful. Malik found himself wondering if music was a lot like words ...that there were deeper meanings hidden between the lines.
Guitar music. J-pop rock. Laughing.
"I hope I can be a singer sometime..." A soft feedback of the mike. "Oops."
Another round of laughter. "Sure, if you put your mind to it. You're a great singer, Malik."
Another laugh. "Yeah, and I'm damn sexy too."
A single laugh, before slowly dying out. Malik's voice echoed in the cavernous room, soft and quiet now.
"Hey, Jyo...?"
"Yeah?"
"...You really think I can make it?"
"Sure. You're hot enough for it, like you said. Plus you sing awesome."
"Yeah but...if I make it, ...won't people eventually know that...that we're...well..."
Silence on the other end. Malik didn't like the silence very much.
"...I've been thinking about that too," the other said. "Listen...Malik..."
A shuffle of feet. Malik had stood up.
"...Jyo..."
"No."
"What do you mean?"
"It's nothing."
Another shuffle of feet. "...If it's about me going away because I'll have to sing...I can always just stay here...with you."
"No...I wouldn't want that..."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd rather you go outside, beat your competition. You don't have to stay here with a mutt like me."
"But I love a mutt like you."
A soft embrace. Malik's voice was muffled.
"You'll always be my favourite puppy, Jyo...I'll always love you."
Malik shook his head. No. No. No thinking of that. No thinking of that stupid little fling that lasted so many years. No thinking of those little dog collars and chains that were hidden in his drawer, ones with his name, ones with his name...
Malik turned his eyes back up to the musician. The music was becoming increasingly powerful. Malik's face cracked just a little bit, his eyes on the musician, as though pleading for the white-haired one to stop his playing. Each tone, each note, each key played was beginning to pull strings of memories Malik didn't want to remember.
Seeing those silvery strands too, Malik didn't want to look at them anymore. He didn't want to believe that, after so long, he might've finally be interested in someone else...
He didn't want to see those hands anymore, those slender beautiful hands. Nor did he want to imagine how soft that silkly white hair looked. Nor did he want to even imagine what this musician...this beautiful musician was like in reality...
"Jyo!! Check it out! My first CD!"
"That's great, Malik! Told'ya you could do it."
A tight embrace. "And it was all because of you."
"Naw, not just because of me."
A soft kiss on the cheek. "Hmn...I'm so happy tonight," Malik's voice whispered. "...Would you mind...celebrating with me tonight?"
"Celebrating?"
"Yeah! I'm eighteen now, I can do whatever I want. You're eighteen now too. Please, Jyo...you promised me."
"...That was a long time ago, Malik."
"I know, but this is special to me. Please?"
A hand, shimmying down a chest. Buttons unbuttoned after the hand, as though by magic. Soft, loving lips closed upon silent ones, massaging, begging, needing, loving.
Thrown off clothes, wrapped up sheets. Cries of pain and moans of pleasure. The headboard thudded against the wall in their miserable dwelling, the guitar on the floor laid forgotten. Heat, surging back and forth. Lust, equally shared. Love...
Malik clenched his hands.
Unrequited, his mind hissed bitterly.
"Jyo...oh Jyo..."
"..."
"Jyo...you know I'd rather stay here with you than be out there singing..."
"..."
"Jyo..." Loving arms wrapped around the shoulders of the other, sweating, naked. "...I love you Jyo..."
"Stop!"
Malik shut his eyes. He tried to block out the echos of that voice.
"Stop! I can't do this anymore!"
"Do what...?"
"I can't! I'm not! They find us out, they'll lynch us!"
"But...I..."
"You can't be a singer and still be gay, Malik! Once everyone finds out, you'll be hunted down for life! No one likes someone who's orientation is different!"
"But that was the past Jyo...that was..."
"It's not! It's not the past! I can't live life this way, not with you as a singer - "
"Then I won't be---"
"That's not the point!"
Malik bitterly forced himself to unclench his hands. He heard the music beginning to drift away. He felt his heart slowly repairing old wounds. He looked up to see the musician slowly rested his hands to a stop, never looking up, never opening his eyes to the crowd.
Malik gazed up at the musician sadly.
I haven't felt like this for someone so long...I keep on thinking that maybe it's lust, but that's wrong too...
He watched as people stood up and applauded greatly. The man stood, his head bowed, before turning to the audience. He took a step forward and bowed at the waist, so gentlemanly, so elegantly. However, when he stood up again, he never once turned his eyes to the audience, never once looked Malik's way.
I know men like you, Malik thought. You're the type who bottles up, don't you? The tall, dark, mysterious one...you never let people touch you. You're like one of those crazy artists who never come out of their studio to talk to us useless mortals.
The man slowly flicked his hair away from his shoulders. He never spoke once, not even when the administrator came out to congratulate him and to ask him about his opinion on the sheet music.
You probably have an army of girls after you, Malik thought, noticing the many primped-up women who were fanning themselves. "Oh, that Bakura Akako, what a lovely musician!" "He's quite handsome too, isn't he?" "Very much so..."
Malik reluctantly stood up, clapping once or twice. He wanted to applaud forever, but then, that'd be just like before - just like when he was younger, when he was with him...applauding, applauding, following after the heels of his master so uselessly and so slavishly in love. And Jyo had always thought he was the mutt...
You're the type who never embraces reality, aren't you? Malik asked the musician silently. You have thousands of women at your feet, ready to love you at your command. But you'll never do that, will you? You'd rather keep to yourself, in your own greatness. You'd never let anyone in...
Malik abruptly stopped applauding and bowed his head.
You'll never accept a gay man like me...
The musician slowly walked down the steps of the stage. The administrator concluded the event, but encouraged everyone to gather and talk. There was a buffet table set up at the back. Malik sighed and put his coat on, the mingle and bustle of everyone talking bringing back to reality. No use of self pity now.
He wanted to go home immediately, but he also wanted to eat. He didn't have much food at the school anyway - it was probably late enough that the school cook wouldn't make him a meal anyways. He decided to put up the rest of the night, at least for a quick bite, before hurrying off to home.
He bumped into many along his way to the buffet table. Everyone asked him what he thought the music had served in the enlightenment of the French revolution. Malik merely faked a smile and nodded, saying very little, before finally managing to grab a plate.
As he gathered some fruits and vegetables, he overheard the crowd at the corner. From their conversation, he could tell that they were just incredibly obsessed with the musician.
"Akako, that's a very interesting name, isn't it? What does it mean?"
"You play so elegantly, Mr. Akako. Very elegantly."
"What a fine suit, Mr. Akako, is it tailored here in Britain?"
"Just marvelous, absolutely marvelous, Mr. Akako..."
Malik closed his eyes tightly and randomly grabbed another fruit. He managed to accidently squish his cantaloupe so that his hand was now dripping in sticky sweetness.
Grumbling, Malik bent across the table for a napkin. When he straightened again, he managed to bump into someone.
"Oh- sorry..."
Silence met the other end. Malik didn't like rude people who didn't acknowledge his politeness - ... he turned around to glare at the person when he was met face to face with very beautiful red eyes.
"...!"
It's that man, Malik thought. That man I bumped into in the office the other day...
Malik's mind was swimming.
Bakura Akako is a teacher?!
"Is it a normal accustom for you to bump into everyone you see?" the man asked. Malik gaped. I knew it. I knew it. Just cold like I predicted.
Malik decided to flare right back. "Is it a normal custom for you to never say 'thank you'?"
"Whyever would I say something like that?" the man asked. "Should I be the one thanking you for your mishap?"
"You can at least say 'it's alright' or 'thank you' for me apologizing!" Malik retorted heatedly. In the back of his head, he faintly realized that he was talking back to the the musician...the great musician he had been admiring three minutes ago. He took a step back. What was the matter with him?!
"Hmn, contrary to popular belief, I don't bite," the white-haired man smirked. Malik gawked, totally unsure of what to say. "...Much."
"..." Malik eyed the other. "You're very friendly offstage, aren't you?"
"Oh quite, haven't you noticed?"
Malik rolled his eyes at the man's sarcasm. He took a step back, wanting to put some distance between him and the other.
"However," the musician cut through, "I wasn't merely here to exchange pleasant conversation." He leaned against the table. "I noticed you didn't clap at the ovation. Something the matter? Classical music doesn't fit your taste?"
"Actually, it does," Malik shot back."But whether or not I applaud is none of your business."
"Of course it's my business," the musician admonished. "You may not be able to please everyone, but I sincerley believed you enjoyed the music, did you not?"
Malik took a heated breath. He looked at the other man intently - and reluctantly nodded.
"...Yes. Yes I liked it."
"Good." The man smirked and stood up straight. "That's all I needed to know."
He man was about to walk away, when the purple part of Malik's brain stopped him.
"Wait!"
The man slowly turned back around. Malik took another breath and held out his hand.
"...My name is Malik Ishtal."
A single eyebrow raised. A delicate hand slowly gripped Malik's in return, but its shake was very brief.
"Bakura Akako. Dozoyoroshiku."
9:00 PM
The Red Sparrow
The Favourite Booth
Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte
Back at the resturaunt, both Marik and Ryou had finished their meals. Ryou was happy and content with his food, sitting back comfortably. Marik too, enjoyed his food, but didn't show it as he was still pouring himself another glass of wine.
"Wine?"
Ryou shook his head. "I don't drink alcahol."
"Oh. Pity," Marik said, though he didn't sound upset whatsoever. He poured himself another glass. "I must remember that for our next outing."
Ryou smiled. "That's very kind of you."
"Really?" Marik smirked as he took a sip of his wine. "Most people don't usually say that."
Ryou chuckled a little in response. Below them, the dance floor was all set up already.
Absent-mindedly, Ryou looked out the window.
"...Looks like rain," he sighed.
Marik idly looked out the window too. He said nothing, as rain never really bothered him, though he was just a tad bit annoyed. It meant he'd go home soaking on his motorbike tonight.
"...Do you like rain, Marik?" Ryou asked.
Marik shrugged lightly. "Not really," he said. "It causes inconvience when I want to get home. My bike might rust because of it."
"Oh," Ryou said. "...I like rain."
"I gathered."
Ryou smiled. "I like the rain. It's calming to me, I think. It rejuvinates a lot...it makes me think about stuff I don't usually think about." He looked out the window again. "It's very peaceful."
Marik wasn't sure what to say to all that. He hadn't really had much exposure to rain. After all...he had spent most of his life in Egypt, of course.
"Care to dance?" Marik asked. Ryou turned back around to look at Marik.
"Huh? Oh no!" Ryou quickly shook his head. "No no, really, it's fine...I'm not one much to dance." "Well, I am," Marik said, standing up. He held out his hand. "Shall we?"
Ryou blushed lightly and shook his head again. "No...really, I'm fine..."
"Check, boys?" Mai randomly cut in. Marik rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet.
"Here, I'll pay," Ryou quickly intervened. He grabbed his wallet too and took out a few wads of bills.
"No," Marik shook his head and swept the money back at Ryou. "I'll pay. It's fine."
"But you've already done so much," Ryou protested. "I'll pay, Marik, really. I'll pay. Malik and I always go dutch anyway."
"Hn, dutch is for the stubborn," Marik smirked. "I'll pay."
"No, I'll pay, really-"
"Yeesh!" Mai rolled her eyes. "Decide already. Good grief. Men."
Ryou and Marik both stopped temporarily bickering. Marik's smirk widened a little wickedly and he handed Ryou back his money.
"Tell you what. Do you really want to pay?"
Ryou nodded determinedly. "Yes."
"Alright. Why don't we compromise? You pay for our meal..."
Marik put his wallet away.
"And dance with me?"
Ryou's eyes widened and gawked. Mai grinned.
"Nice one, Ishtar."
"Shut up, Kujaku."
Ryou hestiated. He didn't really want to dance...but then again, Marik had been so kind to bring him out in the first place...
Deciding to give in to his kind nature, Ryou nodded and paid for their meals. Marik smirked and draped an arm around Ryou's shoulders.
"So you really don't know how to dance?"
"Really don't know."
"Well. We'll just have to teach you then."
While Ryou wasn't looking, Marik had snuck Malik's fifty back into Ryou's back pocket. He slapped Ryou ass lightly for good measure. Ryou jumped and squeaked.
"Sorry, hand slipped," Marik apologized, almost looking genuinely embarrassed. Ryou nodded and believed the other, and headed down to the dance floor with Marik.
A little weak, but that's because this whole chapter originally was going to have a lot more to it - but I had finished nineteen pages of basic scenes, so I decided to chop it in half and put up this one first. At least the Malik-Bakura interaction was quite nice. Marik and Ryou will have more fun interactions in the next chapter.
Please read and review! I have a midterm this week so please review so I may update faster!!
-AL