Hey everyone, long time no see!

I'm really sorry that I abandoned this story. I just totally lost my muse, and I wish I hadn't because this had been fun- and I put a lot of work into it, but, alas. However, I realised that I have a ton of extra information and stuff just... lying around. I wasn't sure what to do with it. Deleting was stupid and just letting it sit there and rot? Sad! So...

I decided I'd post this up as sort of an apology? Ahhh I don't even know. These are all pretty random and, unless I state, have no set time I was going to put them in. Just sort of were written as ideas and stored.

This got really long, so I split it up.

So, enjoy!

Mariku usually wasn't one to confide things into his older brother, but he couldn't see things going over well with his twin if he brought up the subject. Rishid didn't get home until the later hours of the day, so they rarely actually bumped into each other but he knew that today was the one day he didn't work until that ungodly hour of night.

Glancing down the hallway, the elder twin checked his room to find Malik still in there. He crept into the kitchen, poking his head in. "Rishid?"

Suddenly, he was crying.

Bakura barely realized it— blinded by his anger, he continued to glare heatedly at the Egyptian across from him. The violet eyes were glistening with water, kohl lines scrunched, and hands clawing desperately at his face. After a moment, the white-haired teen noticed the trembling shoulders, before taking in everything else. Malik was crying.

Blond bangs were sticking tactlessly to his face now from smearing the salty tears over his face and catching stray locks. His breath was hitched, choked, and out of sync. He was breathless. Finally, he swiped at his eyes once more before, suddenly, Malik lashed out. It was blind and a simple backhand, but it struck Bakura right across the cheek. He didn't react, only winced a bit and took a step back. It wasn't a head snap to the side, or a cry. It was just silence.

Malik was still crying, even when Bakura left minutes later.

The tears didn't make him feel guilty.

"Don't get involved with him," Rishid warned as gently as he could, but his voice was firm. He intended to be heard.

"I won't," Malik mumbled absently, leaning back on the counter and cabinets as he watched his elder brother do odd and end tasks around the kitchen.

Rishid frowned, glancing over. "Little brother, I mean it. I don't think you should get involved with Bakura." He purposefully left any suffix out.

Malik noticed, but said nothing about it. "Is there any particular reason?" He asked, walking over to the table and sitting down in the chair. He laced his fingers together and set his chin on them, elbows on the table. "You don't trust him, don't like him? What is it?"

"I trust him enough," the oldest Egyptian replied with a soft sigh. He was cleaning the counter now. "True, I do not like him much— but that's not why I want you to stay uninvolved."

Malik was silent for a moment, his gaze fixated off in the distance and down the hallway without much thought. "I'd like some sort of reasoning or explanation, then," he finally replied, violet eyes darting over to his brother. "You have one for everything."

"Twin situations are problematic," Rishid explained vaguely, heaving another sigh. "I think if… something were to happen involving Ryou-san and your brother, it would become awkward for you and Bakura, and vice versa. That's why I don't think you should become involved."

The blond raised a brow skeptically. It was then he noticed just how Rishid was wording things— and, again, he left off a suffix for Bakura. "Wait, brother…" Malik lifted his head and crossed his arms on the table, frowning. "Ryou-kun and Mariku, what about them? I don't see how they tie into this."

"They're…" He hesitated on the word, cheeks turning an absent pink of embarrassment. It was sort of awkward for him. "They're an… well, they're an item, right? Or at least highly interested in each other…"

Now Malik turned red, blinking his wide purple eyes a few times. "Oh." He stared at the table before looking back at Rishid. The red in his cheeks was dying down a bit, now, and the pink wasn't even visible in Rishid's. "They aren't, er, dating," Malik added with a shake of his head. "No. At least not from what I'm aware of, though I know Mariku does like him…" He paused, contemplating. "Brother, why do you keep saying 'involved' and such?"

"Because I don't care if you're friends," Rishid went on to say. He was washing the dishes now, frowning absently at the bubbles and soap. "I don't care if you see or hang around with him. That doesn't bother me."

"Well, then, I don't understand," Malik admitted with a sigh. He frowned, but it looked more like a pout rather than anything else. He cocked his head, staring at his brother's back pointedly. "If you're okay with us being friends, I'm not getting the problem here. I especially don't see how Ryou-kun and Mariku are tied into this."

Rishid heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "Little brother, do you honestly not get what I'm trying to say?"

"I don't try to make myself look stupid on purpose, if I can help it."

Deciding to be straight to the point, Rishid glanced over his shoulder to look at the blond. "I don't want you to develop feelings for him— or if you've already have, I don't want you acting on them. With that matter, I don't trust him." He turned around, unable to stare into the suddenly shocked eyes of his little brother. He continued: "He'll break your heart— and if something goes wrong between the two of you, it will disrupt Ryou-san and Mariku's friendship as well. Probably Ryou-san's and your own, too."

"Feelings?" Malik repeated, jaw dropping. He had honestly stopped listening after the first sentence. "I don't have fe-feelings for him!" He spluttered, quickly waving his hands back and forth in defense. He was bright red now. "No! No! He's just my friend, that's it! Gods, no, I don't like him like that!"

Rishid looked skeptical, glancing over his shoulder again with a frown. "I just worry," he admitted, turning fully around and walking over to Malik. He set his hand on the blond's head, ruffling his hair absently. "It's never good to have something with your best friend's brother. With twins especially, it's a bad idea. It's a dastardly effect."

"You speak as if you have experience," Malik commented dryly, blowing a strand of hair out of his face with a heavy huff. He was still red. "I'm not going to…" he couldn't possibly turn any redder because now even his ears were tinted. "I'm not going to ever date him. I'm pretty sure he doesn't like me like that, either, Brother!" He jutted out a lip. "Where did you even get this idea?"

Rishid hesitated. 'Well, I could be honest and tell him that Mariku spoke of Bakura having an interest in Malik, and that worried him a bit.' His thoughts paused. 'Somehow, I doubt that would go over well at all.'

Mariku grinned. "It really kills you to know he's pissed beyond belief at you, doesn't it, 'Kura?"

"Shut up. I know. What the hell can I do? He won't even look at me."

"Apologize. It's not rocket-science."

"I already tried! He stormed out of the room."

A sigh. "Fine. Leave this to me."

"I doubt anything involving the two of you is a good idea," Malik said dryly.

Mariku snorted. "Thanks for the trust, Mal."

"I offer what I can."

"He said he hated me," Bakura murmured, running a hand through disheveled white bangs.

"He was lying," Mariku replied with a shrug. "He's an emotional roller coaster, you know that."

Bakura sighed. "His eyes said otherwise... He hates me."

"I feel like you're going soft on me," Mariku retorted with a snort. "But seriously, Cloudy, he doesn't hate you."

"He slapped me."

"What? Tch, that girl," Mariku grunted. "He'll apologize later, promise."

Bakura was silent for a moment. "I think... it's me who should..." he choked on the last word, "who should apologize."

"Ehh, you? Apologize? Why's that?"

Hesitation. Slowly, Bakura replied: "I grabbed his arm. I wanted him to tell me what he was hiding."

Mariku's eyes widened before they began to dangerously narrow- but he said nothing, only waited for his friend to continue.

Bakura began again, treading lightly. "He told me to let go. I said 'no, not until you tell me.' He struggled and repeated himself. I repeated myself... so when he tried to push me away, I pulled up his sleeve." At this point, the teen's voice had fallen to a murmur as he rubbed his temple. "All those scars... cuts, wounds, horrible gashes. One was bleeding, probably where I grabbed him. I said it was stupid to cut yourself." A sigh. "He tore his arm away and hit me, screaming how much he hated me. He ran." Bakura paused, whispering out: "... I just stood there."

Mariku looked furious, but his voice restrained himself as he grumbled out: "Yeah, you really need to apologize. He doesn't self-harm. He never has. To accuse him is to make a mighty big assumption that just makes you look like an idiot."

"I'm aware!" Bakura snapped, glaring up at the blond. "I know, okay. If he didn't do it, then what did cause those scars?"

"I'd rather him tell you," the Egyptian replied easily, looking away. He was calmer now. "It's not my place."

"... Will he forgive me?" Bakura asked hesitantly, looking to the floor.

"You actually intend on apologizing?" Mariku raised an eyebrow. Bakura nodded, causing him to whistle. "That's new. You're really that upset he hates you? Here I'd thought you'd relish it."

Bakura paused. "... Me too," he admitted quietly, focusing all his attention on a spot on the carpet.

Mariku looked completely blown away. "Touzoku Bakura," he started slowly, "are you telling me that you actually like my brother? Wow. You. Friends with him."

"... I think..." Bakura hesitated. It was now or never. "I think it's more than that."

Mariku pursed his lips, looking vaguely irritated in a joking manner. "Did I just lose my 'best friend' status?"

"He's not my best friend."

"Don't beat around the bush, then!" Mariku snapped shortly, bopping the white-haired teen on the head lightly. Bakura swatted at him, silently cursing his friend's oblivious nature.

"Malik isn't my friend because he's something else," Bakura grumbled. "Something different."

"Bakura. Spill." Mariku huffed, crossing his arms in pure annoyance. "I'm not good at guessing games, you know this. Spill your deepest thoughts, Cloudy!"

The teen rolled his eyes and ignored his friend with a scoff. "He's something else because... I think I have a crush on him," he said the last sentence so quietly that he wasn't even sure Mariku caught it. By the blank look on his face, he had to assume he didn't. Bakura was about to repeat himself when the Egyptian started to slowly chuckle until it erupted into a boisterous laugh, letting out a loud 'whoop!' and punching his fist into the air.

"Oh, I so totally called that one!"

"... You what?"

"Sometimes I question your sanity," Malik grumbled dryly, rubbing his temple.

"You're not alone," Bakura agreed with a grunt.

"I question yours, too."

"Agreed— wait, hey!"

"You're undeniably gay," Bakura announced, nodding as if to further assert his point.

Malik glowered. "Your hair's longer than mine, you know. I'm not gay."

"Hair length is irrelevant. So you're, bisexual, then?"

"No."

"Well, obviously you're not straight."

"What makes you say that?" Malik grunted, eyes narrowing.

"You've never had a girlfriend," Bakura replied easily, smirking. "That's what."

Malik deadpanned. "Because you have?"

"Two, in fact," he replied smugly.

The Egyptian rolled his eyes. "What's this matter, anyway?"

Bakura glanced over his shoulder once as Mariku shuffled off to his room to change out of his uniform. He had to absently wonder where the younger twins got off to, but the thought was dismissed as he returned his gaze to the TV.

Mariku shut the door behind him quietly, smirking in amusement. 'This is going to be a lot of fun...' he thought deviously. He opened Malik's dresser and tugged out some of his twin's clothes and tossed them onto the bed. He'd get to those in a minute.

He looked into the mirror situated on the dresser (Malik was too vain for his own good, seriously) and stared at his hair. This would work. Somehow. He put his hands on his hips in thought, jutting a lip out. Good thing Malik was basically mute today, seeing as he was sick and lost a lot of his voice. The most distinguishable thing between them was their voice, after all.

Mariku started to comb down his hair as roughly as he could, breaking the spikes as he did and attempting to style his hair like he had just woken up (or, in this case, was his brother).

Smirking at his handiwork, he gave himself a thumbs-up before starting to change.

Malik was going to kill him later, probably.

(-)

Bakura had closed his eyes, leaning his head back onto the couch lazily. His friend was taking forever.

He heard footsteps and lifted his head a bit, starting to open his eyes when he was suddenly face-to-face with Malik. He raised a brow, looking at the Egyptian questioningly— but the boy just stood there. The blond bit his lip nervously and glanced away, shifting his weight.

"Is something wrong?" Bakura asked skeptically, wondering why he was acting so strange. Malik was bizarre to begin with, yes, but this was a new level of odd for him. "Malik, are you okay?" Now that he thought of it, he almost looked off. "You don't seem well."

The shorter boy only shook his head (whether that was an answer to the first question or second question, Bakura never found out) before moving a bit closer. He locked eyes with the crimson ones staring up at him, hiding their worry, and released his lip. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it, shaking his head again. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, as if steadying himself. Violet eyes were revealed as Malik locked gazes with Bakura once more, taking another step towards him.

"Malik?" Bakura pushed absently, frowning as he furrowed his eyebrows. "Hey, are you—"

Lips were suddenly crashed onto his.

Mahogany eyes shot wide and his face contorted into one of pure confusion and shock, but he couldn't pull back. Bakura sat there, frozen, his mind racing in a million different directions and going in vast circles of thoughts. Malik was kissing him? Why? Was this a joke? What was going on?

Malik pulled back reluctantly a moment later. He opened his eyes slowly, still close to the pale boy's face, before moving his head away and straightening himself up. He was blushing now, looking away, but he somehow seemed contented. His eyes trailed to Bakura quick before he let out a yelp, as if realizing what he just did, and covered his mouth. If he squeaked a 'sorry,' Bakura didn't hear it as the boy quickly turned and strode out of the room as fast as he could.

Bakura just stared, jaw dropped, and eyes transfixed.

'Malik just kissed me?'

His lips moved as if silently reading the words aloud to himself, softly parting to breath out only air. His eyes were intense and focused, his brows knit together in the utmost concentration. The book was gripped tightly in his hands but despite the strained aura, he still somehow seemed so relaxed.

Finally, Bakura leaned over near Malik's ear and murmured: "What is your brother doing?"

Malik glanced up briefly, figuring what Bakura meant but double-checking anyway, before looking back down boredly to his notes. "Reading," he said absently with a shrug. "He reads out loud when no one's around, but since we're in the room he's gonna be quiet."

"Why?" Bakura frowned.

Violet eyes looked at Mariku once more before shifting to Bakura. Leaning into his ear (and causing a nasty shudder to shoot down the pale boy's spine), Malik whispered back, "He has trouble reading."

"… Please. Don't cry."

"How the hell can you tell me not to when you just said you hated me?"

"My apologies for dragging you out of class," a brunette woman began with a smile as the Ishtar twins sat down. Bakura, who had tagged along much against the lady's will, sat down next to Malik on the far end of the couch. "Hopefully you were not too involved," she continued, her emerald eyes sparkling with maturity behind her square glasses. She was dressed nicely and properly— she wore a simple white blouse with lacy sleeves and a long flowing dark blue skirt. Her hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail and despite the mature appearance, she couldn't have been older than 25.

Mariku just waved a hand without much thought. He was staring distractedly out the window. Honestly, he was just wanting to go back to gym— they were playing kickball and he was actually having a lot of fun smashing into the ball as hard as he could kick, whipping it to the bases as hard as his arm could throw. Plus, since Bakura was on the other team, he was having fun rivaling the other boy. Speaking of Bakura, he couldn't figure out why the white-haired teen had been so intent on following him to the office.

"What did you need?" Malik asked curiously, his voice attempting to sound polite.

"I just need some information, is all," the woman explained with a smile. "I noticed on your transfer forms…" she paused for a moment, sifting through papers as she tried to find them. After a few seconds, she found what she wanted as she pulled the two pieces of paper out and set them on top. She pushed her glasses up absently. "I noticed your guardian had neglected to fill out parts of the form."

Mariku let out a "tch" of amusement. That wasn't unlike Rishid. As together as the man was, he had a bad habit (if not knowing what to write) of skipping questions and such on paperwork. Ishizu usually went over them but she must've neglected to this time.

"Oh." Malik tilted his head a bit. "I see. Well, uh, we'll help how we can, I suppose." He nodded awkwardly, glancing to his brother as if wanting approval. Mariku didn't notice, only kept looking out the window. After a moment he finally took his eyes to the counselor (he guessed) and frowned a bit, but said nothing.

"Good, thank you." She shuffled through the papers again. "Now, I need to know your birthday. You two are twins, correct? So it's the same day?"

The younger Egyptian nodded numbly. "December 23rd."

Mariku grunted, finally speaking up. "As far as we're aware, it's the 23rd of December… For all we know, it could actually be in August." He paused, and then raised his eyebrow after thinking about something. "Nice to know Rishid left that one blank."

Malik shook his head, bitterly agreeing, but said nothing.

The counselor was just writing things down. "Rishid?" she mimicked. "I saw that name on here. Your legal guardian, correct?"

"Uh, yeah," Malik replied absently. "He's our brother." He was going to add something else ('well, brother by theory because really he's adopted and I doubt it was ever anything official because that's not how father worked' sounded right) but didn't.

She just nodded. "I see. Now, it seems he filled out the rest of the form, although a few things he left out I can look up myself. Now, he also left your parental information blank?"

The twins were suddenly tense. Mariku's head snapped to the woman, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open slightly as if he was about to retort. He just shut it after a moment, letting out a muffled grumble, and rubbed his temple. The woman was completely oblivious the reaction with her eyes trained to the paper, although Bakura wasn't. Worriedly, he looked at Malik sitting directly next to him and tentatively started to put a hand on his shoulder. Violet eyes flicked to him and Malik offered a small smile, silently saying he didn't want the touch. The pale hand was withdrawn without a further thought.

"Your mother's name and her maiden surname, please? We need it for the records."

The Egyptians fell silent. After the hesitating silence, Malik spoke— granted, even Bakura who was less than a few inches away had to strain his ears to hear the boy. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" She repeated, incredulous. Who didn't know their own mother's name? "That's bizarre. I don't see how you aren't sure—"

Mariku was at an immediate defense, eyes narrowed dangerously at the counselor as he leaned towards her. "She's dead," he snapped shortly. "We never met her on a cognitive remembering and we don't speak of her." Even inch of his tone screamed 'drop this or else' and the woman finally picked up on it.

The counselor flashed a sympathetic look, realizing she had overstepped the boundary she didn't know was there. Quietly, she nodded. "Your father's name, then?"

There was more silence and hesitation. Finally, Malik was the one to break it. His voice had steadied. "Our father had no name. He was just... father, to us. To others, he was Ishtar-san." Malik paused. Somewhere in the back of Bakura's mind, he remembered Ishizu talking about how she didn't want to be referred to by her surname. Then she had said it was because her brother, Rishid, was usually called that. Was this the real reason she had such an aversion towards it?

Mariku snorted, breaking Bakura's train of thought. The Egyptian met the eyes of the counselor, violet boring into the green harshly. "Sometimes he was Ishtar-sama, if he felt particularly arrogant that day."

The woman frowned. "No name again?" she repeated. She wrote something down on her clipboard, and Mariku arched an eyebrow (whether he was irritated or curious, Bakura couldn't tell). "That's unusual," she remarked.

"Everything about the man was," Mariku replied easily, glancing away and out the window again. "He wasn't mourned at the funeral, that much I'm sure of. Honestly who would've?" He snorted again, waving a hand absently. He was still looking out into the courtyard. "It was a welcome thing, dare I say. Best damn thing of our childhood hell."

Her frown deepened (be it from the vulgarity or the actual comment itself). Malik barked a laugh, causing the woman to look at his oddly and almost in a gaze of concern. "I don't disagree," he added with a smirk. He tilted his head gently, "it was a sick pleasure to watch that body buried."

"You were crying," Mariku reminisced with a chuckle. His eyes trailed over to his brother for a moment before looking back out the window almost longingly. "I remember. You said they were 'not-sad' tears."

"Ones of joy, I'm sure. Were you?"

"I think so." Mariku looked thoughtful, his bent finger to his lips. "I don't remember. Ishizu was crying… I don't think she was happy. Rishid didn't."

The woman was watching them with silent apprehension, her frown almost overtaking her entire face. Her eyes looked incredibly untrusting. Mariku must've recognized the look for he took his gaze to her and his face split into one of a maniacal smirk.

"I feel no pity about him dying," he stated. The smirk never fell as their eyes locked— violet clashing violently against emerald. "In fact, some days, I wish I could return home if not just to spit on his grave and kick over that tombstone. Perhaps I could smash it with a mallet, because… well, let's face it: he barely deserves the hole he lies in."

She shook her head. "That's an awful thing to say about your father," she reprimanded gently. These two must've been a troublesome childhood duo, she thought to herself. Their father was probably strict— she doubted he had nothing but good intentions and the twins only misinterpreted it like a lot of children did.

"Ha!" Mariku threw his head back and laughed. It was a rough, coarse, and gritty sounding cackle. "Well, he was an awful man."

"In all due respect," Malik began softly, the smirk he wore mimicking his brother's, "I believe 'awful' is a way of putting it lightly. The scars see to that. Ma'am, may we go now, please?" He stood up without awaiting her response and sent her a sweet, almost childlike innocent smile. "Excuse us."

The counselor (none of them had caught her name, if she had even said it to begin with) was silent before she sighed, nodding her head with closed eyes. "Goodbye. Thank you for the… information." She scribbled something down before quickly looking up. "Wait, Ishtar… Malik, was it?"

Malik nodded absently, face withdrawn of any real emotion. In all honesty, he was tired.

"Are you aware that your necklace breaks dress-code? You shouldn't wear it." She pointed gently to the golden choker tightly around Malik's neck. Without much thought, tanned fingers went up to touch it and run the length of the smooth metal. His eyes looked momentarily pained before, like a blink, it was gone. His eyes were blank now.

The young Egyptian only shook his head. "It does not come off," Malik murmured weakly. Mariku realized the lie but said nothing, only getting up with a grunt and starting to walk out of the room. He was sick of this woman. Bakura got up and followed him, glancing worried glances back at Malik who still hadn't moved.

She nodded a few times, not really understanding but not wanting to argue, and waved the three boys out. The door shut behind Malik, who immediately snapped out of his "sullen quiet" demeanor as he angrily hiss in the direction the woman was behind the wall.

"I can't believe that woman," he growled, angrily storming out into the hallway and towards his locker. The period was basically over anyway. "Asking stupid questions about mother and him, then telling me to take off my stupid necklace."

Mariku only laughed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He was still in his gym outfit, just like Bakura. "Ha, don't get your feathers so ruffled."

The car was eerily silent as the ride continued. Yami wasn't saying much of anything, unless he was asking Bakura for further directions or verification he was going the right way. Ryou was sleeping, head lazily against the window as Mariku kept his focus on the GameBoy in his grasps. Whatever game he was playing kept him completely enthralled seeing as he had barely said a word the entire ride. Malik would occasionally strike up a conversation with Bakura through the seat, although it never got far, so mostly he was staring out the window in deep thought.

Deciding the silence was best off broken, Yami reached over to pop the radio on. Rough guitar noise soon flooded the car.

[… Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness
I need to calculate what creates my own madness
And I'm addicted to your punishment
And your the master, and I am waiting for disaster—]

"Oh, I know this song," Bakura commented absently.

Malik was curiously listening, analyzing the lyrics silently to himself. "I've never heard it before," he stated with a small chuckle. He glanced over to ask his brother if he had (seeing he was the bigger music buff), but Mariku looked frozen. The GameBoy was clenched tightly in his hands and his eyes were slowly widening— normally stoic and cold, the eyes suddenly held thinly veiled fear. His face even looked faintly pale in colour. "Mariku?" Malik started hesitantly, getting steadily worried. "Are you all right?"

"Turn it off."

The reply was so stiff and forced-sounding that the younger Egyptian wouldn't have believed it came from his twin if he had not seen his lips move. Harsh violet eyes shut tightly, trying to block out the song. Malik withdrew his outstretched hand, reluctant now to set it on his brother's shoulder.

"Turn it off," Mariku repeated hoarsely. "Now."

[… I think my thoughts when I don't even need to
I never look back cause I don't even want to
And I don't need to, because I'm getting away with murder—]

Yami looked into the rear view mirror seeming a bit worried. Bakura frowned, especially at the tone, as he glanced to the back seat at the person he could vaguely call his best friend. Curiously, Bakura muttered: "Why?" He then noticed how pale he was suddenly looking. "Hey… are you—"

"TURN IT OFF!"

The yell was so out of the blue it startled Ryou awake with a jolt and Malik looked like he had had a heart attack, his back pressed against the car door and away from his brother with his eyes wide. Even Yami, and strangely enough Bakura, jumped slightly. Without a word, Yami's hand shot out and clicked the radio to another station. Some classical music was playing, but eventually it turned out to be a commercial. The silence of the car returned, except for Mariku's suddenly laboured pants. After a moment he seemed to have calmed himself down, remotely— enough that he flicked his GameBoy off and tossed it carelessly to the floor in irritation. He had died anyway.

Why did that song suddenly bother him so much?

Scratch that. He knew why— but the question was rather why now of all times? It was so long ago. It shouldn't bother him. So why were visions of the past suddenly flashing in front of his eyes again? That song. That stupid, pointless song…

Malik was at his brother's side in a moment, Egyptian-Arabic quickly flowing out to keep the conversation somewhat private. "Are you okay? Mariku, what's wrong? Tell me!"

The twin tensed up, hanging his head with his eyes hidden by his bangs. "It's nothing."

"Liar."

Mariku took his gaze over to his sibling, glaring darkly. "I'm not lying. It's nothing." A pause and then a small, forced smile. His face lightened up despite still being plagued with worry and badly hidden fear, and his eyes grew just slightly softer. "Don't worry about me." He reached out, setting his hand on Malik's head and ruffling his hair. "Please."

The other didn't look even remotely convinced. "Mariku… You looked terrified."

"Little brother, please," the elder twin repeated patiently. "I promise. I'm fine." The smile widened, but the sincerity of it was still nonexistent. "I had a nightmare. This song reminded me of it. That's all." 'I'll protect you no matter what.'

Malik frowned. "But…" He trailed off, biting his lip. His brother complained about nightmares before but he always laughed about them. They had never seriously plagued him (not since back then), why were they beginning to now? After a moment, he sighed in defeat. "I don't believe you. But... Okay. I won't pry."

"Thank you."

They both fell silent. Ryou watched them with a worried expression, not entirely sure what just happened, while Bakura stared at them from the rear-view mirror, looking completely confused at the incomprehensible exchange. Yami didn't say a word, only kept driving with his eyes fixated forward. After a moment, Mariku bent down to pick his GameBoy back up, flicking it on, and started to play again. Malik watched him with almost sympathetic eyes, before looking back out the window.

Bakura expected the anger in Malik to flare. Instead, the scowl only deepened. After a moment, the sour look slowly faded and a devious smirk replaced it. "… I have no reason to move nor be afraid of you, Fluffy."

That did it.

"Why would I ever like someone like you?" He snorted, scrunching his nose as if to emphasize a point.

Malik frowned. "Looking back on this, I'm wondering the same thing."

"So you agree."

"Yeah. I do. I'm not sure how I ever fell for such a conceited asshole."

The white-haired boy shot at the smaller blond, breaking free of Ryou's grasp. The snarky kid didn't even flinch as the fist came barreling towards him. It wasn't because he didn't see it coming— it was because another tan hand shot out and grabbed Bakura's right before it smashed into the younger boy's "pretty little" face. Mariku looked furious as his grip tightened and for a brief and quickly fleeting moment, Bakura was positive that the enraged blond might rip his hand off or at least kill all the circulation.

"You do not fucking touch my brother," he snarled. "Do it, and I swear to all the Egyptian Gods," He slammed Bakura's fist down into the desk, putting them at even heights as mahogany eyes clashed with violet. "I promise you will sorely repent it."

"Regret."

The grip was suddenly gone and the anger was turned to his sibling. "Of all the times to correct my Ra-be-damned terminology, brat, ya choose now?" He snarled, grabbing his little brother's collar and tugging it threateningly. "I am trying to save your sorry ass from getting kicked, Malik!"

"I get punched, I get punched. I don't see the problem here."

"You're impossible—"

"You are not one to talk!"

Bakura was too busy fuming and debating internally whether or not to nail the tall blond when Ryou started laughing.

"Get back here, brat!" Mariku snapped again, about to go around the desk to grab his irrational little brother.

"Stop calling me that, you psychopath!" Malik shot back, still fuming. The two were just about ready to claw out each other's throats when a few more classmates filed in. Though they stopped at the front of the classroom, watching the heated exchange with vague curiosity. Neither twin seemed to notice the sudden attention. "Stop ordering me around, you're not that much older you know! Minutes are not long periods of time!"

"Try being 7 minutes late to class!" Mariku retorted and looked extremely smug by the fact he had just successful won that specific argument. Minutes counted.

"… Well, in that context!" Malik shouted back, throwing his arms in the air. He scowled but after a moment let out an irritated sigh. "Ugh! Forget it." He stormed past his brother, making sure to collide their shoulders roughly, as he grabbed his stuff and stalked to the other side of the room. He grumbled something in Arabic when he passed his brother— whatever he said, suddenly had the boy flustered.

Something responded in Arabic.

A smirk on Malik's part. Something else.

Finally, in a language they all understood: "… Fine. Okay. Whatever." The boy skulked to his desk and slumped into it angrily. "… Prick," he hissed under his breath.

"I can hear you."

"Curse you and you Ra be damned bionic hearing!"

When the doorbell rang and knocks in quick succession sounded at what Bakura would soon notice via his alarm clock was 3AM, it was needless to say that he was pissed about it. He stormed downstairs, wiping furiously at his eyes to rid the sleep, grumbling as he grabbed the door handle and attempted to open it. It was locked. Undoing the deadbolt irritably and clacking the lock to the side, he tore the door open ready to kill whoever woke him up.

He didn't expect to see Malik on the doorstep, soaked from the rain, clutching a backpack to his chest with reddened eyes. He was crying; even in the rain, Bakura could tell.

"… Malik?" Bakura said slowly, as if he wasn't sure the other boy was really standing there. "What are doing here?"

Malik was silent for a moment. Finally: "C-can I come in?" The Egyptian whispered, sniffing. He trembled a bit, freezing. "I-I… I need to talk to Ry-Ryou."

Bakura quickly moved aside and let the blond come in, worriedly looking at his back as shut the door, re-locked it, and led Malik to the couch. "I'll… go get him up, hold on." He cast a wary glance behind himself before jogging to his twin's room. Despite the concern flooding over him, he couldn't help the jealousy that snuck in as well— why couldn't Malik talk to him? Did he still not trust him?

The thought was dismissed as he opened the door, slipping inside Ryou's room. He walked over to the bed and placed a tentative hand on his twin's shoulder, jostling him a bit to wake the other up. "Ry, hey, wake up. Ry? Ryou? You gotta get up."

The fawn eyes squeezed shut tighter, Ryou mumbling something about 'it cannot already be 9 AM' before attempting to turn over and tug the covers over his head. He never liked to get up even though he was a morning person once he did. Bakura rolled his eyes and shook his shoulders a little harder, trying to sound more urgent.

"Ryou, you need to get up," he repeated. "I will rip the covers off of you if you don't, this is serious."

Finally, the boy rolled back over and squinted at his brother (or what he could see in the dark) through a hazy stare. "What is it?" He glanced to the clock, focusing his vision. "It's… 3:05 AM, brother. I'm tired."

"I know." Bakura straightened up, sighing. "I got woke up by the doorbell. Malik's here, he looks really upset and I think he was crying—" Before Bakura could blink, the lamp by the side of Ryou's bed was flicked on and the younger twin was awake and alert as if he just guzzled 3 galloons of coffee. He threw the covers off and grabbed his pajama bottoms off the floor, slipping them on as he rushed to the door while fumbling over his own feet. Bakura stared, stunned, before following without a word.

"Malik!" Ryou called quietly as he raced into the living room. Malik had his head in his hands, soaked shoulders trembling from the racked sobs. "Malik, what… what's wrong?" He sat down on the couch and pulled the Egyptian into a tight hug. Bakura watched quietly, frowning.

The blond choked on another sob. "R-Ryou, I-I'm so-s-sorry, I… oh gods," he whispered, shaking his head. "I c-can't… I c-c-can't do it, I…"

"Don't be sorry," Ryou ordered, tightening his grip. "You can't do what?" he urged softly, stroking the boy's hair as soothingly as he could. "Take your time. It's okay."

"I…" He hesitated and lifted his head after a moment. He glanced over to the right, noticing Bakura standing there. He took his eyes away quickly, shuddering, and shaking his head again. "T…they don't know."

"Who?"

"My-my siblings," Malik explained quietly. "I… It was y-years ago, b-but… They… they don't k-know."

"Don't know what?" Ryou pressed. He noticed Malik's eyes glance towards Bakura again and frowned. "Do you want Bakura to leave…?" The white-haired teen asked tentatively. Bakura felt his stomach do a flip, uncomfortable— did him being there bother Malik? That sort of hurt.

Malik murmured something with a shake of his head. Ryou felt a smile tug at his lips in spite of himself, and looked over to his brother, mouthing 'come over here.' Bakura raised an eyebrow but walked over slowly, hesitantly sitting on the arm of the couch although, secretly, he was content that Malik didn't want him to go away. Whatever he had to say, he trusted Bakura enough to hear it.

"R-Ryou, I… I need help," Malik finally said after a long moment's pause. "I n… need a-a lot of it."

"We'll do whatever we can to help," Ryou whispered supportively. "No matter what it is."

Bakura cautiously set a hand on Malik's back. The blond jumped and turned around best he could in Ryou's grasps, eyes wide. Bakura retracted his hand guiltily, but forced a small awkward smile. "Even if you killed someone, we'll help hide the body and clean up the crime scene."

"… 'Kura," Ryou started, glaring half-heartedly at his brother, "not the time."

"Er… sorry."

Malik just buried his head back into Ryou's chest, choking on another sob. "T-these nightmares I keep having… t-they a-aren't— they aren't j-just nightmares. I-I lied." He shuddered, flashbacks plaguing his mind. "Ry-Ryou, something really t-terrible happened w-when I was a— hic— a kid. I have-haven't told anyone… n-not e-e-even M-Mariku knows."

"You can tell us anything," Ryou repeated as he hugged Malik closer. His trembling was slowly stopping and despite his voice becoming shakier, it was stronger in tone.

Malik hesitated. Quietly, he lifted his head only to hang it, looking off to the side. He couldn't bear to look into Ryou's eyes— but he still felt them burning into him, just like Bakura's were burning into his back. Slowly, carefully, and breathlessly, Malik spoke:

"I … was r… I was raped."

Bakura felt all the colour drain from his face.

They were eating the popcorn out of the two bowls, all four transfixed on the movie. There had been a few awkward grasps of hands (usually Mariku grabbing Bakura's, which caused both to let out a yelp of distaste) but it was brushed off as quickly as it happened, usually. Mariku and Ryou eventually ended up sharing the one bowl, pointedly not bothering to see if the other boy's hand was in the popcorn already— Ryou would blush but smile when they'd grab each other's hand, and Mariku would grin. He had tried to work up the courage to actually kiss the slightly younger boy, but so far it hadn't worked.

Since they were sharing a bowl, Malik and Bakura were left with one. Bakura was tentatively reaching in, watching Malik's every move to avoid his hand.

"Bakura! Dance with me!"

Mahogany eyes glared up into innocent and excited violet ones, narrowing dangerously. "I don't dance," he hissed. He had just gone over this with Mariku, who had gone to great lengths to get the boy to even remotely stand up from the table. He had just sat back down, and the elder Egyptian stormed off to find his "date." He had better things to do than bother Bakura, for once.

Malik frowned. "Why not? It's fun." He grabbed the boy's sleeve and tugged, pouting a bit. "Please?"

"No," Bakura repeated slowly, "I don't dance." 'I don't care if it's with you or a bloody curtain rod, I'm not dancing.' "Leave me alone."

"Oh, come on, Bakura," Malik tugged again a little more desperately before suddenly dropping to his knees and setting his elbows on his friends lap. He rested his head in his hands, glaring with a pout up at the boy. Bakura twitched and attempted to hide the blush as much as he could. He looked away, hair flopping into his face, but Malik didn't relent. He put his hands on Bakura's legs and leaned up into the other boy's face, the pout intensifying. "Dance with me! Come on!"

"Malik, go away," the white-haired teen growled with as steady a voice he could.

[No, no body stop, everybody move
Get up and dance get up and dance
Move your body b-b-body…]

Malik's ears pricked up and he turned his head towards the stereo, blinking. "Whoa! Didn't think they'd play this! Okay, now you have to dance," the blond announced with a wide grin (Bakura couldn't help the fleeting thought that he looked cute with it). He bounced to his feet and grabbed Bakura's hand, tugging. "Come on!"

"Hell no," Bakura seethed and this time he couldn't hide his blush. He snapped his hand away. Malik's eyes flashed a look of hurt before it was quickly smothered.

"Do you not hear the lyrics, Bakura? It's time to dance, everybody must! Come onnn…" He reached for the white-haired boy's hand again, but the dark glare he sent caused Malik to rethink. He pulled back and stuffed his hands in his pocket, frowning. "You really won't dance?"

"Really."

The frown deepened. "Why did you come then?"

'Because you were going to come...' "Your brother already shoved the ticket in my hand," Bakura murmured, slumping in his seat and resting his chin in his hand. 'That and Mariku black-mailed me…' He scowled and glanced away, avoiding the upset violet eyes locked onto him. "I had to."

"… Fine. Well, if you're going to be a grump, I'm going to dance. You know, the purpose of this thing?" Malik grumbled and turned on his heel, walking off. Bakura waited for a moment before looking in the blond's direction with a sigh. He'd get a mouthful later, probably, from Mariku.

Speaking of whom, the said blond was storming over (Ryou in tow) to the table Bakura had taken over. Mariku narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms moodily as he tapped his foot impatiently. "Seriously, Cloudy?"

Even Ryou frowned, fidgeting awkwardly beside his angry "date." "I thought you said you liked Malik-kun?" the younger twin started softly. Bakura grunted, looking away and resting his chin back in his hand. Mariku's glare hardened at the lack of response.

"He does," Mariku answered for his silent friend. "And that was why he was going to this function, so he could dance with him," he continued, seething. Bakura turned his head to glare, but Mariku only bent down a bit to level their gazes. "You need to stop waiting."

"I don't dance," Bakura growled in retort.

"Do you ever listen to anything I say?" Mariku snapped irritably. "I told you before, he will not wait forever. You need to make a move. If you don't, I won't hesitate to make sure you don't ever come within two feet of him again." The eyes narrowed and suddenly, the protective brother front was up. "Make your choice, and make it now."

"Ryou likes you!" Mariku growled, glaring darkly at his twin who only met the glare full-force.

"I can't control who likes me, brother," Malik replied calmly but the anger was lacing his voice. He narrowed his eyes as the older Egyptian let out a cry of frustration and threw his fist into the wall. He panted, unmoving for a moment, before hissing and slamming it once more furiously into the wall. "This is probably a misunderstanding. You're over-reacting. Calm down."

"I won't because I'm not!" He roared as he spun around, seething. "I ask Bakura what the fuck was wrong with Ryou because I noticed something was up and he noticed too— what the hell's he tell me? That even he doesn't know but apparently Ryou likes someone. Great, right? So, I get the courage up to ask Ryou subtly about it and he says he won't tell me. I try to get him to even just walk home with me and what's hesay? He wants to know if you'll be there because he doesn't want it to be just him and me. He wants you there. He starts asking me about you and your availability. You? You? He fucking likes you!?"

"You're misinterpreting!" Malik snapped back, starting to get annoyed at the accusations. "I doubt he likes me, and do you think I purposefully made him get a crush on me even if it is true? You're a moron!"

Mariku bristled, growling as he spun around to confront the other. "Shut up! Just shut up, Malik!"

"Stop acting like I'm going for him anyway!" The younger twin snarled in retort, taking a furious step towards the other. "I don't like Ryou like that, he's just my friend like Bakura is just yours!"

"It's different!" Mariku shouted, slamming the side of his fist into the wall behind him. "It's different because Bakura doesn't like me! Fuck, you could develop feelings for Ryou easily!" The Egyptian shook a bit, breathing heavily as violet locked onto violet. "You could easily fall in love with him," he seethed darkly. "You two spend enough time with each other. You'll fall for him and you two will get together. Where the hell would that leave me?"

"I'm not going to steal Ryou from you!" The younger Egyptian snapped defiantly, clenching his fists tighter. "I won't fall in love with him, I won't develop feelings for him! Do you even remotely understand the words that come out of my mouth? For once in your life, fucking listen to what I'm saying!"

Mariku couldn't bear to hear it anymore. With a quick swipe, he drew his fist back and hit his brother across the face before he quickly stormed off to their— no, his— room, slamming the door so hard that it was a surprise it didn't fall off the hinges. He threw himself onto the bed and buried his face under the pillow, holding it tightly over the back of his head. He squeezed his eyes shut, panting still from fury. There was no fucking way he'd give Ryou up to his brother.

He wasn't going to step aside.

(-)

Malik didn't move. Tenderly he touched his jaw, upper cheek, and temple area, wincing as he pressed them. He was going to bruise. It honestly took him a moment or so to even formulate the idea that Mariku actually hit him. While they fought viciously sometimes, they never laid a hand on the other.

Suddenly, Malik felt like something broke— something between them shattered, didn't it?

Quietly, he grabbed his coat and tore the front door open, slamming it shut as hard as he could just to see if he was able to piss his brother off. He started walking down the street as he put his coat on and zipped it up, shoving his hands into the pockets without a further thought. He barely realized he was crying until a tear hit his lips— and they kept falling from there. His head hanging low, the silent tears kept falling.

They stopped only when he reached the house he was headed to.

(-)

"Malik?" the voice said slowly as the door was opened.

Said Egyptian hesitantly looked up from the 'WELCOME' mat, eyes pleading for entry he hadn't even asked for yet. "I-I'm really sorry, Mutou-san— no, I, er, Yugi-san, but I…" He sniffed and realized he was ready to start crying again. His cheek was starting to burn painfully and his jaw was throbbing, a flash of pain going by every time he opened his mouth. "I needed someone," he explained as the strength returned to his voice. "My first thought was you. I'm… I'm really sorry."

"No!" Yugi said quickly, moving aside to allow Malik to come in. "No, no, don't be sorry! Malik-kun, please, come in, come in. What's wrong?" He asked restlessly, eyebrows creasing in worry as his red-violet eyes watched Malik hesitantly enter the Game Shop he called home. "You have a huge bruise, and your lip— it looks a bit split. Oh gosh, did you get into a fight? No, no, sorry, I shouldn't ask. Oh, uh!" He shut the front door and was moving towards the register's cabinet, although he was fumbling awkwardly as he did. "A band-aid! Do you want one? Or, uh, pain killers? Something? Anything? Maybe you'd like something to drink, or—" He kept prattling on.

Malik would've been amused at the boy's dismay if he wasn't so upset still. "No, no, Yugi-san, it's fine. I'm fine. No thank you," he replied as politely as he could, holding a hand up. As he did, he noticed it was shaking lightly— the fingers jittered from side to side, uncomfortable and slightly panicked. He shoved his hand back into his coat pocket without another thought. Yugi didn't seem to notice, Malik noted thankfully. "I… yeah, I got into a fight."

"Was it— no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking," Yugi dismissed himself again as he slapped a hand to his forehead. "I'm so sorry, I'm being unusually nosy..."

"It felt more like…" Malik paused, fumbling for the word, "like concern. An over excessive amount of it," he added and managed a small smile.

Yugi felt a smile tug at his lips regardless of the creased brows and worried expression. "…Yeah, I don't like seeing my friends come to me with a bruise. I like to fix things too much, I guess," the small boy admitted with a soft laugh. As he invited Malik to follow him into the back and sit down on the couch, Yami walked out of the storage room. Upon seeing the younger Egyptian boy with his little brother, he raised a brow in vague confusion.

"Ishtar?" Yami began, cocking his head a bit. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Malik awkwardly sat down, coat still on and hands still in his pockets, and looked to the ground. "… Yeah. Me either. It was sort of last minute." The Egyptian hadn't noticed Yugi left until the shorter boy returned a moment later, two mugs in his hand. He handed one to Malik with a smile.

"Hot chocolate. My mother makes it for me when I'm upset," he needlessly explained as he sat down across from the boy. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Malik took a tentative sip from the mug, inwardly wincing at the scalding hot that slid across his tongue and sliced his tonsils. He waited a moment before he sighed, nodding. "Sort of." He looked at Yami, who was now sitting in the nearby chair with a look of concern that matched his brother's. Frowning, Malik cocked his head a bit. "Mutou-san, do you two fight?"

Yami looked a bit confused. "Yugi and I? Not really, actually," he admitted as he put a finger to his lips in thought. "No, we don't really fight."

"Sometimes we argue over the bathroom," Yugi provided with an almost child-like laugh. "Or what we watch on TV, but really, yeah, we don't fight much if at all. It's usually playful, if anything."

Malik smiled wanly. "I see."

While Yugi seemed oblivious, Yami caught on immediately— the reason Malik asked was not random, he was hinting at the problem. With a reproachful frown, he narrowed his eyes. "You and Mariku-san got into a fight."

"I guess you could call it that," the Egyptian muttered softly, that thin smile still on his lips. He looked upset in every part of his face except for that empty, hollow smile he was wearing. "Yeah. That sounds right."

The realization hit the younger Mutou brother like a ton of bricks. He gasped, straightening up almost in a quick snapped gesture. Yugi just barely managed to keep a hold on his drink, spluttering as he stared at Malik with unbelieving eyes. "M-Malik-kun! He hit you? He was the person you got into a fight with?"

"Hard to believe, huh," Malik agreed as a hollow laugh escaped his lips. He shook his head a few times, chuckling with no trace of actual amusement in it. "He's never hit me before. We've fought a lot, we always have, but he… he's never dared to hurt me, just like I've never dared to hurt him." A tanned hand gently went to his cheek, touching it hesitantly. His jaw was turning a nasty purple already, he could tell from the window's reflection. "It was a full-blown punch, too."

"Happy Halloween, you guys!"

"What the fuck is 'Hollowed-weaned' and why did you put this… this… orange thing on my desk!"

The group almost died laughing.

Mariku didn't find it as funny. He was flushed from anger and was nervously backing away from his desk as if the offending object would somehow sprout legs and kill him. Malik was just curiously looking at it.

"S-shut up!" The elder twin hissed, scowling (but with how scared he looked it was more so a pout) at the group. "Shut up! Tell me! What the fuck is this thing?"

"I-It's…" Yugi laughed a few more times before finally catching his breath. He smiled sympathetically at the foreigner, attempting to explain. "It's a Jack-o-lantern."

"Jack in what now?"

Honda and Otogi, who had calmed their laughter, burst into another fit of hysterics. Mariku only looked more pissed off as Yugi sweat-dropped, chuckling nervously as he raised his hands in defense. "No, it's a Jack-o-lantern," he repeated slowly. "Jack… o… lantern!" He grinned.

"… Jack-o-lantern?" Mariku finally muttered in understanding, raising a brow as he looked to the orange "jack" on his desk. He glared at it skeptically, inching towards it. "What the fuck is it specifically? Weird looking… fruit. Melon. Err, vegetable?"

Jounouchi was laughing again now. "It's a pumpkin, ya goof."

"That's the stupidest name I've ever heard," the Egyptian remarked haughtily, crossing his arms and turning his nose up. He glanced over his shoulder to his twin, who was looking with high curiosity at the so-proclaimed 'jack of the lantern.' "…So why's it on my desk?"

Anzu seemed completely oblivious. "It's for Halloween, silly!" She chirped with a smile. Her smile fell a bit at the twins' identical looks of confusion. "…You know, the holiday?" She weakly elaborated, now losing the smile faster with each second of utter uncertainty. The twins both looked completely lost.

Finally, Malik frowned. "Halloween," he repeated with almost a sound of disbelief. "We never heard about it. What… is it? A holiday, you said? But I don't see what it could be celebrating at the end of October."

"Nothin', really," Jounouchi decided with a shrug. "It's mostly jus' for fun! Y'know, dressin' up and gettin' candy and stuff!"

Mariku stared, his face a mix between vague irritation and confusion. "That sounds stupid. I don't even like candy."

Malik looked just completely confused. "Dressing… up? Why?"

It took them almost all of first period to explain the concept to the twins. They managed it by writing down and doodling pictures, passing it to the each of the twins as secretly as they could— eventually, once the teacher deemed class was well enough accomplished for the day, they were able to talk and explain the rest.

While Malik seemed to understand the concept more than before, Mariku was just getting even more lost. Holding up a hand, he scowled. "Okay. So let me get this straight. The 31st of October comes and everyone decides to dress up as either scary as shit things or slutty as shit things—"

"Cute things too," Malik provided as he cut him off, cocking his head. His twin only glared.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. And these dressed up fools go around to random houses they've probably so much as never even looked at to ask for a 'treat' or a 'trick' which just sounds potentially lethal to me, by the way, and the people that don't dress up for that go to parties with a big basin of water and apples? Yeah. Perfect sense." Mariku narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms moodily. "What the fuck sort of country did we move to, geez."

Jounouchi was laughing again. "You make it sound crazy."

"It fucking is!"

"Oh calm down, no need for obscenities," Malik chided absently with a wave of his hand. Again, his twin glared him at darkly but he paid little attention to him. "It's a… weird concept, to say the least. I do have to agree with Mariku, though. It sounds kind of dangerous. Going to random people's houses to ask for a trick or a treat? Bad things would happen if you did that back home…" He shook his head.

Anzu chuckled nervously. "Well, uh, bad things have happened. I mean—"

"There was that whole razor incident," Bakura cut in smoothly, grinning maliciously. "People have been known to put razors or poison in the candy. Cut your mouth apart, quite literally, or make sure it's… heh, well, one hell of a trick." His grin widened.

Mariku blinked a few times, looking almost innocently curious. "Wow. That sounds like something you'd do. Did you happen to be the one—"

"Oh shut up, I didn't freaking do it!" Bakura snapped, cutting the other off with a slam of his hand onto the desk. "That was before my time!"

The elder Egyptian burst into coarse laughter, throwing his head back. "Don't get your panties in a knot, Fluffy, Horus almighty… Although you do seem the type to—"

"Shut up!"