The X-Effect

- ThiefShipping: Yami Bakura x Malik -

- DeathShipping: Yami Mariku x Ryou -

I'm back with yet one more addition! This one didn't take as long since I had most of it typed up already. I tend to get "random scene" ideas into my head and just go to town with them. Basically this entire chapter was pre-written, haha. It needed major editing though. But! It's done.

It was good for me regardless since I seem to have damaged a nerve in my hand or something. Hurts like hell to type, but it's getting better…

Chapter 6: Eruption

Bakura snorted. "You defend him, and yet don't defend yourself. You're some sort of fucked up, aren't you? Face it, brat. You can't stand-up for yourself. One of these days, you're going to get into some major trouble and big brother won't be around to save you like he always seems to."

Mariku bristled at that, taking hard violet eyes to his friend. "You leave me the hell out of this argument," he said shortly.

"I won't," Bakura argued back, eyes shifting to the elder Ishtar for a moment before they returned to Malik. "Brat needs to get this through his thick skull. Life won't be handed to you on a silver platter, you bloody git," he muttered off-handedly. "Stop acting like some spoiled rotten rich-kid."

Malik's jaw dropped, and their lunch table was stunned into silence.

This wasn't going to end well.

Malik suddenly slammed his hands on the table as he stood up, snarling. He was furious. "Excuse me? Spoiled rich-kid? Me? What the hell gave you the right to call me that!"

"It's pretty bloody obvious," Bakura seethed back, glare hardening. "With the way you protect those stupid earrings and necklace you wear, I feel right to assume they're pure gold. Are they not?"

"That's none of your business," Malik snarled, but Bakura either didn't hear him or just chose not to listen.

"Just sit down, you're causing a scene."

Violet eyes narrowed dangerously. "You started this battle," he hissed, "if you have forgotten that already."

"I'm sure you'll be pissed about it for days, really I am," Bakura muttered, rolling his eyes, "but I honestly don't feel like listening to your bullshit anymore. So, sit down and go back to silently fuming like some girl. You'll be over this before we all know it."

Malik tensed up, teeth gritting. "Will you stop acting like you can read my mind and predict my every move?"

"I won't, since I don't need to act," Bakura snapped back. Now he was starting to get pissed. "You're as open as a bloody textbook!"

"Ha!" Malik spat. "Maybe your math book, since I've never even seen you so much as once crack it open!"

Bakura growled. "I'm passing and that's not the point," He hissed. "Regardless, maybe if you stopped being so obvious about your emotions—"

"You don't know anything about me!" Malik shouted, slamming his hands into the table once more.

Suddenly, it seemed like the whole cafeteria was thrown into silence, the attention focused solely on the argument as heads turned towards them. Murmurs were floating around, whisperings about what could be happening and some of the students seemed to be hoping for a fight.

Malik didn't even notice— his eyes were fixated on Bakura. "You think you have me figured out— well, you're wrong!"

"Somehow I doubt that!" Bakura stood up now, eyes narrowing dangerously at the blonde. Oh yeah, he was getting really angry now. He leaned on the table and closer to Malik, snarling with a dark glare as their eyes violently clashed. "Trust me, brat, I sincerely doubt you have anything significant to hide! You're obvious, so stop pretending like you're so fucking special!"

Malik growled and once again looked ready to lunge across the table and strangle the white-haired boy. Ryou was worriedly grasping his twin's sleeve, tugging slightly as he looked panicked. "K-Kura-nii, please—"

"You know nothing!" Malik yelled, screwing his eyes shut as his shoulders shook in fury. "Do you hear me, you conceited bastard? NOTHING!" He shook his head a few times before hanging it as his hair flopped into his eyes. "You don't know a damn thing about my life, my family, and you don't even know a single thing of what I've gone through!" His eyes snapped open as he brought his head back up, fury flaring dangerously in the violet orbs.

Bakura only threw his head back and laughed— a cold, malicious and coarse sound that was devoid of any actual amusement. "HA! What a joke! I could say the exact same thing to you!"

"This isn't a fucking contest!" Malik snarled loudly.

Mariku was watching the fight with an unreadable expression. He looked like he wanted to desperately intervene, but wasn't sure how to do it or if he even should. In the end, the elder Egyptian just took his eyes to the table silently, poking at his food absently. He was going to stay out of it.

Malik continued to seethe with another few shakes of his head, "Are you listening to anything I'm saying!"

"Why in hell would I want to?" Bakura shouted in retort, growling. "Your voice is shrill enough to break god-be-damned glass!"

Malik turned red— not from embarrassment but pure fury. "You son of a— your voice isn't angel songs and melodies either!" He snarled. "Whether you like my voice or not, you're missing the point!" He leaned closer to Bakura, eyes dark and narrowed. "You don't know anything about me," he hissed lowly.

"Honestly, I have no intention to get to know you!" Bakura ground out through his teeth. "The only reason anyone would is for your 'pretty little face' or your body since your personality leaves much to be desired! Your body is the only thing worthwhile about you!"

He expected a retort— a shout, a yell, something. Anything… but, nothing came. What Bakura didn't expect was for Malik to look slapped as he leaned away, stumbling back and away from the table, his chair clattering to the floor.

"But— I… my body, it…" Malik whispered incompletely and Bakura could've almost sworn he saw water pooling in the boy's eyes. The Egyptian trembled a bit, still attempting to back up all the while his violet eyes were fixated on Bakura. Mariku, the argument finally caught up to him, turned around and quickly tried to grab his brother's arm— but Malik flinched away from the touch with a terrified expression directed at him.

Mariku recognized these eyes.

His own eyes widening, the older Egyptian reached his hand out once more. "M-Mal, are—"

Malik ran.

He turned and bolted out of the cafeteria before Mariku could even blink. The elder twin shot up as fast as he could, fumbling to get out of his chair which kept getting its legs caught on the table.

"Malik!" He shouted after the other, but his brother was already long gone and out of the room with the cafeteria doors slamming loudly as they shut. He stared at the exit, stunned into silence, before turning back towards Bakura. The Egyptian was positively livid. He bore his teeth, showing off sharpened and almost fang-like canines, with his face screwed up into an angry twist of kohl lines and pure fury. "How. Fucking. Dare you," he seethed dangerously, shoulders trembling from the building anger. "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT TO HIM?"

Bakura was silent—to say he was surprised at Malik's reaction would've been an understatement— but when Mariku shouted at him, the shock faded back into anger as his fists clenched dangerously. Mahogany eyes redirected towards the other Egyptian boy, narrowed. "Brat had it coming," he growled. "It's true, anyway—"

Mariku punched him.

It was all so fast that it took even Mariku a moment to figure out he did it. He hit the other teen right in the side of his face, smacking his jaw, and Bakura ended up losing his footing. He fell messily backwards and whacked his head on the empty table behind him, white flashing across his vision for just a moment. He lay there on the ground for a few seconds, blinking and collecting himself, before he slowly lifted himself up by his elbows. Ryou let out an "eep!" and was immediately at his brother's side, Bakura hissing as he held his head before moving on to rub his cheek. It was going to leave one nasty bruise.

Mariku panted, but only watched the white-haired boy with hatred burning in his eyes. He ignored the shouts from the people at their table and the ones nearby— some aimed at him, some at Bakura— and looked away. He wiped the back of his hand against mouth, as if ridding a bad taste from it. Quietly, he murmured:

"… Don't you ever make my little brother cry again."

Without saying anything else, the Egyptian was walking away without looking back.

He had to find Malik.

(-)

"Are you okay?" Ryou asked his brother tentatively, helping his brother walk to the nurse's office. Despite the protests, he had slung the older twin's one arm over his shoulder let Bakura lean on him. The older twin was steady enough on his feet, but Ryou was worried about whether or not he was dizzy and he didn't want the other boy toppling over. "You fell back pretty hard," he whispered.

Bakura grunted, rubbing his head absently. "Yeah. Hmph, he has a mean right-hook, I'll give him that…"

"… Well, I can't say you weren't asking for it," Ryou murmured with a frown after a slight hesitation. He looked to the ground quietly. "Brother, that was an awful thing to say."

"Spare me the lecture, I know."

"Yes, but— wait, you know?" Ryou repeated after cutting himself off, looking shocked. Had he heard him right? He glanced at his brother, as if to check if Bakura was joking. He wasn't.

The nurse wasn't in her office when they got there. Ryou just led his brother over to the back corner where they could wait for her to return and hopefully not be late for the next class (although lunch wasn't over yet, so it gave them some time). Bakura sat down on the nurse's bench, wincing slightly as he did, and leaned against the wall. Finally, he spoke: "I'm not going to apologize, though. It's true."

"Nii-san…" Ryou began slowly, looking almost angered. "You had no right to say what you did," he stated defiantly.

"He said shitty things to me, too!" Bakura hissed, glaring darkly at his brother. "But you're defending him instead? I don't see the bloody problem here, anyway!" He snapped. "He shouldn't be so overly sensitive like a god be damned girl in the first place!"

Ryou's frown deepened. He briefly wondered if it was his place to tell, his secret to divulge, but decided it wasn't. Malik wouldn't want him to, more than likely, even if it seemed like an insignificant thing to him. He sighed and shook his head, dismissing the thought. He wouldn't even bring it up. "Just please," he started softly, looking to his clasped hands with an almost sad expression, "you should apologize— to both of them."

"I won't do that." Bakura looked away, his eyes flicking to the door as the nurse walked in. Ryou glanced up to her and offered a shaky smile. She returned it slightly, but then frowned as she noticed the growing purple and blue bruise that had found its way onto Bakura's jaw and cheek.

"Well… what happened here?" The nurse asked worriedly. She assumed it was yet one more fight that the older Bakura twin got into, and that another student would be coming in soon enough with similar injuries (or, given who exactly this was, worse ones).

"I fell," Bakura replied shortly. "That's all."

He technically wasn't lying, Ryou had to think, but he wasn't really telling the whole story either. Maybe that was for the best.

The nurse frowned but decided to not to question it. It was too much effort and really, she couldn't accuse him of anything without proof, regardless. Bakura glared absently at her for a moment, knowing she wasn't fully believing him. Ignoring the nurse as she started to get out some band-aids and aspirin, he turned to Ryou. "Besides, Ry… he was still too bloody sensitive."

Ryou bristled, muttering in a hushed voice, "Excuse me?" He frowned, looking almost angered. "I'm beginning to think Ishtar-san should've punched you twice," Ryou commented dryly. Louder, he announced. "You need to be nicer to them, not snap such mean things to Malik especially. Come on, brother… Remember, when we transferred here? It's hard to be the new kid— and they're from an entirely new country."

"I really don't care, Ryou," Bakura snapped shortly. "Save it."

"Touzoku…"

"Don't call me that! I said save it, Ryou!"

The nurse, who had started to wipe up Bakura's face with an alcohol swab, sighed. After putting a band-aid on his cheek, she forced a small smile. "Well, I patched you up. Did you want some aspirin or anything for pain?" She asked, but the teen only shook his head, still glaring. "Okay. Well, you're free to go back to class, now, if you don't need a pass," she absently walked away and washed her hands.

Bakura mumbled something as he stalked off, hands in his pockets. Ryou cast a "thank you" to the nurse before following his brother back to the cafeteria.

(-)

"Malik!" The elder Egyptian wandered the hallway, yelling for his brother as he looked around, beginning to get vaguely more worried that he couldn't find his 'other half.' He cupped a hand to his mouth, calling: "Mal! Come on, brother! Ugh. Malik, where are you?" He frowned.

Mariku glanced into classrooms, hoping to find an empty one with a blob of light yellow hair inside. No such luck. He was about to give up when he noticed the door leading outside to the courtyard— it wasn't completely shut, letting in the soft wind of September and the sunrays of the day. Cautiously, Mariku walked over and pushed it open the rest of the way. There was a steady sound of chattering from the other students eating outside, some on the bleachers and some sitting on benches near it.

The Egyptian was about to turn around and leave, when he saw yellow against the dark brown of a tree—Mariku felt a sudden wave of relief overcome him as he realized it was his twin. Malik had his knees pulled to his chest, head resting against the tree behind him as he looked up to the sky. Without another thought, Mariku was out the door as it shut loudly behind him.

"Mal!" The older Egyptian called, racing over quickly. "Thank Horus I found you… I was worried, you dolt!" He snapped, waving a hand as if he'd smack the boy in the head. Admittedly, he was tempted.

Although the tone was harsh, Malik knew his twin meant well. Looking over to his brother, he attempted a small and forced smile. His eyes were red from crying and even then still glistened with remaining unshed tears, something Mariku hadn't seen in years. "Sorry," he said finally, and that was all he said about it. Mariku only sighed, anger drained, sitting down next to him with a flop as he leaned against the large tree trunk.

"Are you okay?" He asked tentatively. After a moment's hesitation, he added with a deep frown: "Don't be insecure about that, of all things."

Malik just shook his head, more so in disagreement to the latter than anything else. "I'm fine. You know I'm just sensitive about my body."

"I do, but you shouldn't be because, I'm sorry, it's a bit stupid to be." Mariku sighed again, running a head through his spiked bangs and ruffling them absently. He tugged at them for a second or so, shaking his head. "Would it make you feel better if I said I punched him?"

"You what?" The blonde straightened up a bit, taking his shocked gaze over to his brother. "You punched him?" Malik repeated. "'Riku! Who's stupid now?" He snapped a bit irritably, lips pursed. "You're going to get suspended or something, idiot!"

"Well, it'll be worth it," Mariku retorted off-handedly with a huff. He laced his hands behind his head, leaning back lazily. "He made you cry."

'Not one of my better moves.' "Yeah, but…" The younger blonde bit his lip. "He seems to be the vengeful type. What if he hurts you?"

"I could take it."

"He's strong," Malik countered.

Mariku frowned, eyes darting over to his twin. "I'm stronger."

"Well, what if he breaks your neck?"

"I have a spine of steel."

"What? Okay, so, how come you didn't go off in the metal detector at the airport?"

"… It's a… special metal," Mariku said slowly, wiggling his eyebrows for effect.

Malik scowled. "Yeah, special as your head."

"… Ouch. Low blow." A (faked) wince. "Either way, I could totally handle him!"

"Even if he jabs you in the eye with a switchblade?"

"Yeah, of c— wait, does he carry a switchblade?"

A pause. "Uh, I don't know. Maybe." Malik blinked. "For the sake of this hypothetical situation, let's say he does."

"Fair enough. Well, then, I'll wear protective sunglasses."

"… Glass breaks when confronted with a knife, especially a thin type like lenses."

"No worry: I'll have unbreakable glass, like the stuff they use for windshields and stuff." Mariku grinned, pointing his fingers like a gun childishly at his brother with a wink.

Malik deadpanned. "It can still break, but either way they don't make that for sunglasses."

"Oh. Uh, normal glasses then?"

"Don't make it for those either… You look stupid in glasses, anyway."

"Stop poking holes in my story!"

"Like Bakura would poke holes in your g-gl…glasses-s?" Malik trailed off, unable to suppress his growing amusement as he began laughing.

The twins couldn't help bursting in identical bouts of loud laughter. Malik held his stomach, flopping over onto his brother a bit while Mariku leaned on him in return, laughing in his own amusement. He had a hand on his forehead out of an old habit. As the laughter died, the twins turned to smile at each other once they completely calmed down. Malik finally relaxed a bit, letting go of his knees and extending his legs lazily. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly to calm himself down before deciding to return to a more serious topic.

"… So, what are we going to tell sister? She's bound to find out."

"The truth," Mariku replied simply, shrugging. He was still smiling a bit. "I mean… he made fun of you and I hit him for it." The smile fell a bit further. "Not much else to the story, I'd say." His twin fell silent— the amusement that had lingered was now completely gone. "She'll be mad, sure, and probably so will Brother— but it was worth it, though. He deserved it."

"He's sort of right, though," Malik admitted quietly after a moment. "I mean… my personality sucks."

Mariku huffed, pursing his lips. "Pssshh! Mine maybe, but not yours… well, usually." He looked upwards at nothing, shrugging again with a teasing smile. Malik whapped his shoulder and the twin turned his head to grin at him, before returning a now placid face back to the sky. "Besides, Mal…" he hesitated. "Don't be ashamed of it."

"I try not to be. It's hard. It's mostly the scars, anyway."

They fell back into silence. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either. It was just silence, lacking either of their voices. A few birds would chatter off in the distance and some voices from the other outside-lunch-eaters (they were smarter than he was probably, sitting on the bleachers, since the ground was, Mariku just now noted, sort of wet) floated over— but between them, there was nothing.

Mariku flipped a rock absently with his foot before piping up: "I have football tryouts today after school… I already signed up."

"Oh?" Malik began dully, glancing over. "What happened to lacrosse? You quit already, I see. It's barely been a week."

"No… no, I didn't quit, per say…" The spiky haired Egyptian coughed awkwardly. "Er… I might have possibly gotten kicked off?" Mariku laughed a bit, sweat-dropping as he scratched the back of his head. "Sort of kind of accidentally might've blinded someone a little and hopefully temporarily with my stick?" (1)

"… Wow. Really? Really, brother?" Malik frowned disapprovingly, furrowing his brows. "The team didn't even play a game yet. You guys— well, they are still practicing for the upcoming ones. Was it seriously an accident? Because somehow I doubt you can get kicked off for that."

Mariku coughed again, looking away. "Well… an accident as far as I'm concerned…"

"So it was on purpose, then."

"Shut up, American football's more fun anyway," the elder twin snapped defensively as he turned his head back to Malik. "Get to tackle the hell out of people!" He upwardly punched the air triumphantly, grinning, "Hopefully the try-outs will go well!"

Malik just laughed a little, shaking his head slowly. "Just try not to shatter anything."

"Tch, you know I won't. I'm tough! Thick skin, strong bones and all that!"

"… I wasn't concerned about you."

"Oh." The other Egyptian looked dumbfounded as he blinked a few times. "Oh. Well, in that case, no promises."

Malik couldn't help it as he laughed again, this time feeling his worry and anxiety melt away as his shoulders shook from the amusement. Mariku smirked, looking to his brother with vaguely affectionate eyes.

"We made it once," he began absently, standing up with a dramatic stretch. He cracked his back (Malik scrunched his nose at that), and stretched his arm before looking back down to his twin. "We'll make it through this, too." He extended his right hand, winking. "I promise."

Malik grabbed the offered hand and was hoisted up with a grunt on the elder brother's end. Malik chuckled, smiling. "Right." His expression slowly became sullen, amusement falling to a frown. He just assumed Mariku would make the team. "Won't you have to wear short-sleeves and shorts for practice and such? Even occasionally?"

"Mm. Yeah, I guess I will," Mariku replied distantly, shrugging lightly. "That'll be hard to get out of. I can manage well enough in gym, but this I might not be able to avoid." He thought for a moment before sighing. "Ah, well, I knew it'd happen eventually. I'll handle it somehow I suppose… Mal?" He suddenly started, looking at his brother with a frown. "I know I already said this, but don't be ashamed of your body."

"I'm not," Malik replied simply. Absently, he looked at his left palm. "It's not my body specifically I don't like. I don't have some stupid insecurity about being fat or anything like that. It's just… who would ever want me for it, especially after they saw…" He trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head a few times as if to erase the thought. "Never mind. I just wish it'd all go away."

The Ishtar twins fell silent, walking towards the school without a word. Mariku opened the door to the hallway and held it open with his elbow for Malik, who skirted by just as Mariku let it loudly shut behind them. He glanced to the clock, noting the time. Lunch was just about over.

Suddenly, Mariku spoke back up with a sigh. "We're in the same boat, you know."

"I know, but I wish we weren't in a boat at all."

The older boy chuckled. "Swimming in the ocean instead, are we?"

"You know I can't swim," Malik laughed.

"Oh. Right. Drowning, then!"

"What?" Malik shoved his brother's shoulder, laughing harder. "Hey, don't be an ass!"

The bell rang.

Malik waved and turned to leave, only stopping once he heard his twin's voice.

"Brother? One quick thing," Mariku grabbed the other boy's arm before he walked off. Malik looked at him attentively, cocking his head. The older boy continued. "I know you're mad at Bakura. Trust me, I'm mad at him too, but… I think it'd be in your best interest to at least feign indifference."

"I don't need to," Malik replied, blinking as if the entire idea of being angry was a foreign concept he didn't understand. "I'm not mad at him, so, it's okay. He might be mad, though."

"He might," the twin agreed absently, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Mm, so you're not actually mad?"

"Not really."

The elder twin looked like he didn't believe it, but he knew it was better to not press the matter. Mariku was worried about leaving his brother but Malik insisted he was okay. The younger boy smiled in that carefree way he did (it looked fake to Mariku's eyes) and promised, holding out a pinky. How childish, Mariku had said— but he extended his pinky finger anyway and they locked them. Promise. He was fine. Mariku sighed and gave in. Only slightly reassured, the two parted ways for their next class.

The older Egyptian was almost to the gym when he remembered— Bakura was in his next period. Silently berating himself, Mariku only hoped he wouldn't walk out of class with a black eye. Even if he did— though it probably wasn't the best idea now that he thought of it— he still felt like it was worth it.

If anything else, he'd have his own bruise to prove that.

(-)

The two "partners in crime" ended up just not speaking most of the period, until Bakura decided to act like nothing had happened. He brought up a topic, seemingly indifferent— Mariku didn't know, but the white-haired boy was testing the waters to see if the alligator (Mariku) would bite (hit him again). But the worries (could they be called that?) were quelled— Mariku responded and suddenly all was good with the world. If anything, he sounded even remotely content with the world at that moment. Was it possible?

Bakura still felt like he said nothing wrong, though. He shouted what was a double-edged compliment-insult (he'd admit that) and Malik— well, Malik over-reacted. He had, hadn't he?

He didn't really think he himself was at fault. He didn't think that at all… but then why did he feel so… so guilty? Touzoku Bakura did not feel guilt… but if he wasn't feeling guilty (which he wasn't), then what was he feeling? He honestly had no clue. What he did have a clue to was that chemistry was going to be awkward.

He and Mariku parted on good terms— it was like the punch to the face never happened even though the blue and purple bruise poking through the band-aid on Bakura's cheek said otherwise.

(-)

Chemistry wasn't what Bakura expected in the least.

He was almost 100% positive that Malik would still be livid about the fight from earlier and he'd probably have to listen to the brat's snide remarks the entire duration of the blocked class. If not that, he figured Malik wouldn't talk to him, or, even more extreme, he would move desks

Did the idea entirely bother Bakura? Not really, but it still did in the slightest bit which threw his internal thoughts for a demented loop. Something bothered him as he strode down the hallway to the Technology Wing of the school— he had no idea what specifically, but it was enough to get on his nerves.

Maybe the falling messed up his head more than he thought. Perhaps slight dizziness and an aching headache weren't the only side effects. Now he was going to go crazy, too. Great.

When Bakura walked in, Malik was in his normal seat. The white-haired teen frowned a bit, waiting for the rabid fire remarks. Malik looked up and— to Bakura's shock— actually smiled at his lab partner. Bakura stared, face showing clear surprise— he didn't even bother to hide it as he studied the other.

"Hey," the Egyptian chirped, and the smile fell a little bit. "I heard Mariku hit you. How's your cheek?"

Bakura hesitated as he walked over slowly. "Fine." He sat down in his chair (Malik didn't do anything to it as far as he could tell— no glue on the seat, all four legs were sturdy and whatnot), eyes watching the other boy carefully. Was he planning something? Did he plan something already? This wasn't the Malik he knew— that one would've been pissed all week, more than likely, or the one that would've held his nose high and ignored him bitterly. He saw no signs of fury or anger, or even vague annoyance.

What the hell was going on?

Malik was oblivious to the white-haired boy's inner 'turmoil' as he smiled. "That's good," the blonde replied, nodding. He went back to reading the book in his grasps without much more of a thought. "Looks like it's not too bad of a bruise."

"… Yeah," Bakura agreed quietly, wondering to himself if Mariku had done something to mentally damage his twin. What sensible person wasn't mad after they ran out of the room basically crying? Especially because this was Malik they were talking about. Malik didn't do the quick "forgive and forget" ordeal. Hell, Bakura himself didn't even do it— so why the hell was Malik acting so weird? He came to the conclusion that Mariku must've swapped places with him (although it definitely didn't sound like the older twin's voice) or just mentally damaged him.

"You have gym before this, right?" Malik continued. There was still no malicious tone in his voice. "Hopefully you and my brother didn't get into it." He turned to look at Bakura again, smiling. "He gets really protective sometimes, for whatever reason. I'm sorry."

Bakura almost felt his jaw drop. Only almost. Instead, he stared in bewilderment, and almost irritation, at the Egyptian beside him. "… You… you've got to be kidding—"

The bell ringing and the teacher beginning to talk drowned out the rest of his sentence. Malik, having only caught the first few words, only shrugged and with another smile, turned to his notes. Bakura stared at him, mind reeling, before shaking his head slowly. He muttered something similar to a curse and turned his gaze from the blond boy next to him down to his notes.

His mind ended up wandering.

While Malik— like the good student he was— filled out his notes, the sound of the pencil being a testament to that, Bakura was half-heartedly scribbling in the blanks with whatever word came to his mind. He kept noting how Malik's arm would inch towards him but soon enough he realized the actual reason: Malik's dominant hand was the opposite of his, and because of the side he sat on, they kept almost bumping into each other. So he was left-handed. Maybe he should bring that up soon. Not now, though.

It sort of bothered him, still, why Malik wasn't angry. He couldn't figure out why he cared whether Malik was or not, because if the Egyptian wasn't angry then he was out of the storm. He was in the clear. That was a good thing, wasn't it? It wasn't like he wanted to apologize or anything (and he didn't), because he didn't regret saying what he did, but he had to wonder. Was Malik putting up a front?

Finally, his curiosity had reached its peak. Tearing out a page from his notebook, he quickly scribbled something down before shoving it unceremoniously onto Malik's notes, causing the Egyptian to stop dead in the midst of writing. Raising a delicate brow, Malik poked the note with his pencil and dragged it down a bit more into his vision.

[Ishtar. Aren't you mad at me?]

The Egyptian blinked a few times before scrawling back an answer. That was weird, why would Bakura of all people care? Regardless, he shrugged it off and slipped the note back over to Bakura's side of the desk after writing his reponse. The white-haired boy absently tugged it over and read it.

[I was. I'm not anymore.
(P.S: You used the wrong katakana for my name.)]

Bakura frowned. He glanced to Malik, but the violet eyes were fixated on the screen up at the front of the room. Rolling his own eyes, Bakura jotted back a reply.

[I find that hard to believe, with the way you are.
(and then what the hell is it?)]

[If you say so, but I'm not mad. It's true, what you said after all.
(I-shu-taa-ru. It's not shi. That's what my sister decided.)]

Bakura froze after he read it, confusion whirling around in his head. It was true? No, he doubted that. He was just blowing steam (and that was a stupid way to write his last name, what was his sister thinking) after Malik managed to piss him off and all the banter beforehand was just Bakura running his mouth. He tended to do that without really realizing it. Ryou hated it.

He looked to Malik, staring at him with a frown. Malik didn't look back. Lowering his eyes, Bakura returned his gaze back to the paper and writing his last note.

[I need to talk to you about something. After school?]

Malik looked confused after his eyes scanned the (somewhat sloppy) writing. It took up the rest of the page, leaving him no room to write. He flipped the paper over, but the backside was covered with random phrases, notes, and doodles. No room, either. With a sigh, Malik glanced to his partner and waited to catch his attention. When Bakura didn't notice him, he reached out and poked the boy's arm. When he didn't react to that, Malik opted to simply grab the wrist that was furiously jotting down the notes he had ignored. It stopped him in his tracks. Bakura tensed up for the briefest moment before looking over in annoyance at the boy, wearing a clear "what do you want?" sort of expression.

Malik ignored the irritability as he nodded and mouthed "sure," a soft smile gracing his lips before retracting his hand and shoving the note back to its "owner" almost pointedly to show he couldn't have written a response. The violet eyes returned to the screen and finished what he had been writing before the distraction, not even taking a second glance to his lab partner.

The white-haired boy cringed a bit, feeling his wrist burning where the other boy touched him. It was an odd feeling that was somewhat frustrating him, because he couldn't place exactly why it felt like that. Maybe he had a really low body temperature and Malik ran higher. Yeah. That must've been it.

Bakura stared at Malik for a moment longer before returning his eyes to his (actual chemistry) notes, absently stuffing his ('and Malik's') note into his pocket.

Chemistry dragged on, it felt like to Bakura. Soon enough though, it ended, as did the day— Malik walking out first with Bakura trailing a bit behind, the two boys left the chemistry room and ventured down the hallway towards their lockers.

"So. What did you want to talk about?" Malik prompted, shifting his bag as they walked. He glanced back over his shoulder a bit, noting that Bakura was hanging back. The white-haired boy eventually quickened his pace just a little, only to still stay about a pace behind.

Bakura stiffened beside him, before finally he was able to spit it out. "It's not true."

Malik looked at him, shocked. "What?" (No, he was confused. Bakura had read it wrong.) "Uhm, what's not?"

Bakura didn't answer, he only kept talking as if Malik never said anything. "It's not true, and you're the last person that should be giving an apology, Ishtar."

Even though the rambling was hard to follow, Malik managed to stay slightly kept up. Okay, so Bakura was saying something wasn't true and Malik shouldn't be apologizing for something. What for? Wait, oh, he apologized for that thing—

"My psychopathic brother beat you up," Malik replied, raising an eyebrow. "I think I can apologize for that, since it's not like he will, and it was my fault he got so pissed off."

"It wasn't your fault, and he was just being a big brother. I would've done the same thing if…" There was the briefest moment of hesitation. "If he talked like that to Ryou."

They both fell silent.

Malik shifted his bag again, a bit awkwardly. He kept his eyes to the ground, trying to take in everything the other boy was saying but not really sure how to respond.

He didn't have to. Bakura spoke again. "I was caught up. Blowing steam." He paused, eyes forward blankly. "Yeah— you're a brat, pretty annoying, awfully feminine, and sometimes I question your intelligence, but…" he sighed, looking at Malik with a frown. "Your body isn't the only reason someone would like you. Okay? So, it's not true."

What that a subtle apology that Malik heard? Surprised, he tore his eyes from the ground to stare at Bakura and, for one moment, their eyes locked.

In that very moment, something passed in Bakura's eyes. Malik couldn't place it for as quick as it was there, it was gone. Had it been sympathy? Guilt? The Egyptian wasn't sure. He decided to just not say anything, because it was none of his business. Maybe nothing had passed at all, and he was imagining it.

Bakura knew exactly what he had felt.

Desire.

He kicked himself for even thinking the idea, tearing his gaze away from Malik almost guiltily. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching a bit as he kept his eyes focused bitterly forward. Don't think about it. Don't even think about thinking about it.

Malik spoke up, successfully breaking the internal conflict of Bakura's train of thought. It was derailing, anyway.

"Thanks, Bakura," the blonde said hesitantly as if waiting for the other teen to take it back. He didn't. "I over-reacted a bit. I know I did. So, I'm s—"

"Hey. Broken Record, I told you: don't apologize," Bakura cut him off, holding up his hand. He still didn't look at him as they arrived at his locker. After messing with his combination and opening his locker, Bakura started packing what he needed into his bag (which was basically nothing, he didn't feel like homework that night).

"You're adamant on that," Malik commented with a smirk. "I would've thought you'd be lording this over my head, parading about how I over-reacted like a girl or something."

Bakura snorted. "You did over-react, I don't argue that… but I argue what I said, at least some of it— however, I don't take it back."

"I didn't expect you to."

Malik was suddenly grinning at him, doing an emotional-180. Bakura couldn't help but smirk back, letting out a "hn" of amusement. "Good," he began, his smirk widening, "because I won't."

"That's fine with me," Malik replied with a laugh as they walked down the hallway to the last "stop." Bakura ambled with Malik down to his locker, still feeling really awkward. He leaned against the nearby wall, frowning as he watched Malik's back and movements. He was still talking; there was a grin on his face and chuckles erupting from his lips as he rambled on about something that Bakura didn't really catch.

The feeling of desire passed again as Bakura looked at the boy smiling and laughing. The wave of strange emotion didn't pass as quickly this time, but it still made him want to kick himself. Suddenly, against all his normal nature, all he wanted to do was shut Malik up, crush his lips to his, and hungrily crave for the taste of his mouth. What did he taste like, anyway?

That was an awkward thought. Moving on.

Bakura was suddenly aware of how, dare he say, gorgeous Malik was. The amethyst eyes that sparkled with amusement when he got his way, the sandy blonde hair framing his sun kissed tan face, his thin body that moved to a rhythm all his own— it was an understatement to say Malik was eye-candy. Bakura was only vaguely aware he was staring (and practically molesting the boy with his eyes) until Malik spoke again.

"I have to start walking home so I don't get back too late," the Egyptian announced, still softly smiling. "So, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Oh, yeah… Er, see ya," Bakura replied with an absent wave as the other teen started to walk away. "Hey!" he called after suddenly. Malik stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Mariku's not going with you?" Bakura added, frowning.

Malik shook his head. "He has try-outs, and I don't want to wait for him."

"Ah." Bakura rubbed the back of his head. "Wait, try-outs for what?"

"Uh, what do you call it here… Football?" The Egyptian shrugged, hands up in a "who knows" sort of gesture. "The sport with the weird shaped ball. It's brown. Guys wear helmets and tackle each other for it like it's some girl they're fighting for, or something. I think it's stupid. How is it manly— eh, anyway, is that it? Football?"

If Bakura was the type to be easily amused, he would've laughed at the description the younger Ishtar twin had just offered— but since he wasn't, he only snorted. He smirked, shaking his head. "… Yeah, that's it. So why is he trying out for that? I thought he was on the lacrosse team."

"Was." Malik reiterated, pointing one finger at Bakura with a chuckle. "Ask him about that one. I gotta go, say 'hi' to Ryou for me!" Malik was now jogging down the (basically empty) hallway backwards, waving.

Bakura coughed ("what an idiot") and bid another goodbye before walking off to find his brother.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

(1) This is almost solely because the authoress does not know how to play Lacrosse and while she sucks at Football, she at least knows a bit more of how it works. Plus, you know Mariku was bound to hurt somebody in a game like that.

Gasp, relationship development! Haha, I was tempted to hack-out the last scene and put it off until the next chapter, but I figured that with the way I want things to move along, it was easier to just leave it there. So, you get a longer-ish chapter to appease you for now, while I recover from my arm trauma.

Next up, things you didn't expect! Or maybe you did. I mean, one person has, although I doubt we should really take Bakura's word for much of anything other than suggestion. Or white-noise.

Anyway: Read & Review & Critique please!

You guys all shocked me the last time I uploaded a chapter! I normally get like one review right away, this time I had 4 or 5! Eep. You all make me blush [swoons a bit]~ Also, on a random note: MY ITALICS WORK AGAIN. I don't know why, it's not like I saved it any differently. How queer. [toddles off to get pain meds]