More scenes, don't mind me.

Bakura growled at the man approaching them, subconsciously stepping in front of both Ryou and Malik. "Go away," he commanded once the figure was in a closer distance.

The man only smiled wanly, holding a hand up in a greeting. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Bakura? Ryou?"

"I said: go away," Bakura seethed, fists clenching. "Get out of here. Leave us alone."

"I just wanted to talk," the blue-haired man explained with a sigh. "Can we do that, son?"

Mahogany eyes flared with rage and the teenager took a dangerous step forward, grinding his teeth. "Don't call me that."

Ryou flinched. Mariku was watching apprehensively from the table, while Malik was curiously poking his head out from behind Bakura's shoulder. Tentatively, he met the gaze of the man Bakura was currently having a verbal spat with. Violet eyes locked with brown, and, after a moment of silence, the brown eyes suddenly widened.

"Oh my," he began softly. "Well, now, if I don't believe my eyes…" He adjusted his glasses absently, blinking a few times. "It's the Ishtar boy, aren't you? Malik, correct? Yes, yes, Malik, I remember it. My, it's been years since I saw you."

Malik stared for a moment, lips pursed, before his own eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh. You…" He cocked his head. "You bought something from my father when I was a child. Right? I remember you." The Egyptian offered a small smile. "I usually forget the faces that came by the tent, but I remember because Father was in a good mood after you bought something. That was really unusual," Malik said as he actually laughed. "Do you still have it—?"

Bakura was suddenly defensive, arm shooting out to the side as if to further block Malik from the blue-haired man across from them. "Don't talk to him, Malik," the white-haired teen snapped, glancing back angrily. "And you!" He took furious eyes to the man he called his father. "Don't you talk to him! How the fuck do you know him. How do you know his name."

"No need to be angry, son," the blue-haired man said quietly, holding up his hands defensively. "I bought something from a man when I was traveling in Egypt. I was speaking to a young boy who was helping him with the tent, and the child was very adamant that I looked at one necklace his father wanted to get rid of. That was the necklace I bought for you, Ryou," their father explained with a soft smile. "Ishtar-san and I spoke often. Is he doing well?"

Ryou was silent. Mariku, finally having enough, stood up and walked over to his little brother. He grabbed his wrist, tugging him back and away from the man with a dangerous glare. "He's dead," the elder twin hissed. "He's dead and gone as he should've been years sooner."

"It's okay if I love you, isn't it?"

"While it's probably not the best idea, I can't say I'm much better off."

"Holy shit, Malik, Malik! Do you see this, did you look outside!" Mariku shouted, bounding onto his brother's bed with a jump. Malik flailed for a moment, actually bouncing up and off the bed a bit, before taking wide and startled eyes to his brother.

"W-what the hell is your problem!" Malik snapped, attempting to untangle himself from the covers. "This is not how you wake someone up!"

"The sky is raining sugar!"

"… What?"

The twins were both rushing out of their room and to the front door, Mariku pulling it open before they bounded outside. It was true. From the sky floated down soft specks of white. Mariku stuck his tongue out, ignoring the cold stinging at his arms, and caught a "sugar crystal" deftly. He grinned and laughed, turning to look at his brother who was crouched down beside the walkway, hand reaching out to touch the few inches of "sugar" that coated the ground like a cake.

"It's cold," Malik noted. "I doubt this is 'sugar,' brother." He stood up, cradling a handful of the melting substance in his hands. It was already causing numbness and a bit of a biting pain. "What is it?"

Mariku plopped down and scooped some up himself, wincing at the freezing cold. "It's as cold as ice…" he commented, scrunching his nose up and shaking his hand out. He stuff his hands into his pockets, shivering. "Is it ice? Sugar ice? I doesn't taste like it, but…"

"What are you two morons doing outside dressed like that?"

The twins looked up in unison, spotting none other than Bakura standing there. He raised an eyebrow, looking bored. Beside him, Ryou laughed. Apparently Yugi and his brother Yami had decided to visit, as well.

In a flash, Mariku was bounding up to his white-haired friend. "Cloudy! What's all this… stuff?" He gestured vaguely around them all, looking mystified. "I woke up to it, and it's freezing outside. Is it ice? Or is it sugar? Sugar ice, maybe! It doesn't taste like sugar, but it looks like it."

Bakura frowned. "Again, you're a moron. It's snow."

"Snow?" Mariku repeated, testing the word out on his tongue. "Snow. Snow, snow, snow… What a weird word."

"I don't think you have much room to talk, you're pretty damn weird yourself."

"Snow, snow, snow…"

"Stop saying that!"

"Haa?" Bakura frowned. "Why isn't he jealous?"

Mariku snorted, smirking. "Despite what you'd think, Malik is actually really hard to make jealous," he explained with a shrug, popping the sucker back into his mouth. "He knows you like him, and only him, so he figures you couldn't possibly have eyes for anyone else— at least for the moment."

"… Yet, he knows that I am capable of jealousy and uses it to his advantage."

"Pretty much."

"Goddammit."

"Get that stupid fucking lamp out of my room!"

CRASH.

Bakura and Ryou cast each other a wary glance, the latter slowly getting up and trekking back towards the twins' bedroom. Bakura eventually got up to follow, curious more so than worried, and the two boys made their way back. "There's glass everywhere," Ryou remarked softly, carefully side-stepping all the shattered pieces.

Bakura eyed the glass skeptically, frowning. It was purple. Looking up a bit, he noticed a lampshade and a shattered light bulb. A chain was in the hallway too— the remains of turning on the now devastated device. A cord was limply attached to a wooden block base by Bakura's foot.

"What the hell is your problem?" Malik was heard shouting, and soon enough he stumbled into the hallway. "You threw the lamp at me! What's wrong with you!"

"I hate that fucking thing, I told you not to put it in here!"

"It's a lamp, it's not going to freaking kill you or something!"

( hey look, the reason Mariku was sneaking around ):

"Hey, bro! Come here!"

Malik raised an eyebrow, walking out into the living room in confusion. "Uh, what? What are you yelling about this time— what do you have in your hand?" Malik quickly asked, staring at the bright purple gift-bag that his brother was clutching with one hand.

"A gift," the elder twin replied. With no warning, he tossed the bag to Malik with a grin. The other boy fumbled to catch it, looking up at his brother with a perplexed expression. Mariku rolled his eyes. "Open it, loser."

"Er, okay…?" Malik said slowly, muttering something under his breath as he reached into the bag that seemed to be filled to the brim with tissue paper. After fumbling around, his tan fingers brushed across metal. Raising an eyebrow in confusion, he gripped the object and brought it out of the bag. A key. He blinked, taking utterly puzzled eyes to his brother. "What's this?"

"A gift," Mariku repeated, winking with a smirk plastered onto his face. "Because I know I've been giving you a hard time lately, and I figured I never do get you a gift for your birthday or anything— I figure I'm the best gift there is, after all," Mariku prattled on absently, grinning. "So, yep. That's for you. Don't say I've never done anything nice."

Malik studied the key before skeptically glaring up at his twin. "Did you change the locks?"

"What? No." Mariku huffed, almost offended. "You moron. Follow me," he announced loudly, striding to the door and tugging it open. Malik plodded after him reluctantly, still clutching the bag and the key. Mariku led his twin down the driveway, turning the corner to go around the side of their house. "Ne! Close your eyes!" He suddenly decided, turning around to dart behind his brother and cover his eyes. Malik let out a "gack!" of surprise at the sudden action, tensing up.

"J-just what am I looking at?" Malik spluttered, getting nervous. "Did you kill someone or something?"

"You always assume the worst. Idiot. Walk!" Mariku randomly commanded, starting to guide his brother towards the backyard. "Okay annnnd…" He stopped, tugging his brother to a stop as well, and grinned broadly. "I'mma remove my hands. Keep your eyes closed, okay?" He took his hands away without waiting for confirmation and darted in front of the other blond. "Now, open them!"

Malik slowly opened his eyes, wary of whatever would be standing in front of him. Instead, he was shocked into silence. Jaw dropped, he stared at the sight before him with wide and awe-struck eyes. Violet orbs darted to his brother, as if waiting for the boy to shout, "just kidding" but he never did. The other Egyptian only grinned proudly.

Finally, Malik spoke: "Have I ever told you that I love you?"

The smug look was lost. Replaced by: look of wary. "Uh, no?"

"Well I won't start now, but damn does this situation almost call for it," Malik announced. "Horus! I cannot believe this," he took a few steps towards the thing that caught every fiber of his attention.

It was none other than a shimmering, glorious, steel and red motorcycle.

"What the hell brought this on?" Malik shot over to the side of the bike, eyes dancing with excitement. "Eh, It's not fake, is it? Oh gosh, it's real! Ra almighty, I can't believe this!" He was touching every part of the bike now, hands trailing down the pipes and handles, the grin on his face widening.

Mariku just laughed. "Like I said… I've been giving you a hard time lately, especially with the whole 'got you beat up because of me' ordeal. I'd been toying with the whole idea of getting a motorbike for you, and when Takabaka beat you up it was pretty much decided I had to do something. I got a raise at work a few weeks ago, so I figured it was a good deal. That sucker was on sale too, so it's pretty win-win. I mean, we don't have a car or a bicycle, and we both can use it, right?"

"Oh, hell yeah, I don't even…" Malik's eyes were still shimmering from all the child-like excitement. He jumped onto the bike without another thought, his grin splitting his face as he "revved" it and pretended to drive for a moment. He closed his eyes, imagining it all. "Oh gods, it's gorgeous. Ra. Mariku, you are so fucking awesome. Thank you, thank you! I always wanted one!"

"Yeah, I know," Mariku laughed. "You're welcome."

"Would it be inappropriate to hug you?"

"Yes. Don't touch me."

Malik didn't listen as he bounded off the bike and tackled his brother. "YOU. You are the best brother ever! You are officially my favourite twin."

"… I'm your only twin," Mariku commented dryly, but awkwardly patted his brother's back. "Again, okay, yeah, you're welcome. Off, now."

The younger boy detached almost immediately and was back at the bike, darting all around it. "Shit! It even has a plate with our surname on it!" He slapped his forehead, starting to laugh. It was almost too much for him to take. Then, suddenly, his laughter stopped causing Mariku to raise a brow. Taking dejected eyes to his twin, Malik frowned. "Wait, I don't have a license," he realized, gloom already starting to overtake him.

Mariku just grinned and pointed to the bag that his twin had discarded onto the ground. "Look inside."

"…You did not." The younger Egyptian snatched the gift bag off the ground and stuck his hand into the tissue paper yet again. "Oh my Ra, you did." He pulled out a plastic and laminated card. MOTORCYCLE PERMIT: MALIK ISHTAR. Said boy scowled, lips pursed. "Seriously, psycho? You took the test and classes as me and passed as me? Just so I wouldn't find out?"

"Actually because the teacher was so stupid, I got us both licenses," the spiky-haired teen announced with a wide grin. "I'm sneaky like that."

"Again: best. Twin. Ever."

"And again: only twin."

Malik started to laugh. "So this was why you were sneaking around?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Malik sobbed, cowering against the wall. "I don't know, stop asking me, I don't know! Please, stop asking me! I don't know, I don't know!"

"Hey, I need you to do me a favour."

"Hm? What?"

"Don't change. Ever."

Surprised, Malik looked over his shoulder and back to his brother, who was staring at him with a serious look on his face. "What?"

"You heard me," Mariku snapped, frowning and looking more put off than truly angered. "Don't ever change, stay who you are."

"No, she didn't die when we were born," Malik muttered with a shrug. "I'm not really too sure of our age… the memories have meshed together. I do know, however, that we were around 6 or 7."

"You got to know her then," Bakura countered, glancing over. Although he didn't mean it in an actually "offensive" or "cynical" way, the look on Malik's face said he had taken it that way regardless. Before the white-haired boy could remedy his tone, Malik spoke back up.

"You know, when you're a kid, you take in a lot of things at once," the blond began quietly, a small smile gracing his lips as he spoke. "You learn to walk and to talk, to act properly and to interact. You learn a lot. Growing up, I…" He faltered for the briefest moment, voice wavering, before he finally continued. "Growing up, I didn't pay attention to people like I do now. I could be a detective with my observation skills, believe it or don't," Malik gestured vaguely, without looking, to Bakura. "I've never seen you in that shirt before, for instance. It's new, isn't it?"

Bakura blinked, glancing down at the blue and black t-shirt absently as he tugged at the collar. "Yeah, I guess so. Technically. I've never worn it, at least," he admitted with a shrug. "How do…?"

"I just notice those things." Malik shrugged, keeping his eyes locked off into the distance. "I do now because as a kid, I didn't. I regret it almost every day of my life." That smile was still on his lips and now it was starting to fall. "We were young when our mother passed away," the Egyptian began quietly. "However, it should be easy to recall her face… her personality, how she spoke, how she acted. It isn't easy, though, because I didn't pay attention. I was too busy learning about the world. I was answering my curiosities, the questions that needed answers. I didn't pay attention to the things I should've— like her— because I was foolish," Malik whispered. "I was foolish and thought she'd be there the next day when I woke up.

"She always was before, so she would be the next day." Without warning, Malik let out a laugh. It startled Bakura, but the blond barely noticed. With his eyes closed and head tilted upwards, he continued to speak. "It was the most foolish thing I've even thought, to this day. I honestly believed that she would be there for me and I didn't need to think about losing her— I was just a kid. I had better things to do." Another laugh.

Bakura was beginning to get slightly worried that perhaps his friend was losing his mind. The laugh was hollow, cold, and devoid of any actual amusement— but Malik was smiling when he did it. His eyes were blank, reflecting that sheer emptiness of the sound. What was truly going on in his mind? Bakura didn't get the chance to ask.

Malik kept talking. "I don't remember much, if anything, of my childhood. For that reason, I don't remember her," the Egyptian finally admitted. "I didn't pay attention, so now I can't even cling to a memory. There's nothing," he whispered. "There's nothing at all. I feel like I was in a coma. I remember Mariku's jokes and his attempts to become a comedian, or us acting like wizards in our garage… I remember playing basketball but I never made a basket. Mariku was better at it.

"Ishizu would draw with us, although really none of us were any good. Rishid would bandage us up after getting hurt, but in all of those memories…" He trailed off, looking at his hand. He stared at his palm, closing his hand into a fist (or as best as he could) absently a few times before turning it over to look at the back. "I don't remember her, and that kills me. I'm missing a huge part of my childhood. I need that source of comfort. How do I know that she ever existed in the first place, Bakura?"

Surprised at being addressed, the white-haired teen turned his eyes to his friend. Malik still wasn't looking at him. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but did she exist in my life past my birth?" Finally, the blond took his purple gaze to the boy across from him. "I suppose it's pointless to ponder now, isn't it." He laughed again— that same hollow laugh.

Bakura frowned and without realizing it, snapped: "Stop laughing like that."

(this was upcoming in the next chapter or so, I think.)

Of course the one time Bakura was punctual, his history partner was not. He had arrived at the house only a minute or so late by his watch seeing as he had gotten lost on the walk over. He knocked, waiting, and a young woman ended up opening the door.

Was he at the wrong house after all?

Soft features, deep blue eyes, and long straightened black hair defined her character, a simple white dress wrapped around her body adorned by a lavish gold necklace. She smiled softly.

"May I help you?" She asked.

Bakura stared at her, looking somewhat taken back and feeling somewhat awkward. Was this the twins' sister? She looked much too young to be their mother. "I'm here for Ishtar Mariku," he stated finally, shifting his weight a bit. "He's my history project partner. He said we'd meet at his home to work?" 'That asshole better not have lied to me—'

"Oh, yes," she said to his relief, her eyes lighting up in recognition. So he was at the right house. "Little brother said you'd be coming. Please, come in," she moved aside to allow his entry. "I'm terribly sorry, however. He doesn't seem to have arrived home from school, yet."

'Of course he hasn't— the one time I'm bloody early.' "That's fine."

So there Bakura sat now, in the Ishtar living room, slumped in the chair. He felt uncomfortable simply being there as his eyes trailed around the home. It was simple. Nothing extravagant and if anything it was almost terribly plain. Dark brown carpet, tanned walls, and simple wood adornments along the bottom were all was around. Barely anything had been hung up on the wall besides a framed scroll (bearing hieratic it seemed, with some 'ancient drawing' above) and a shelf nearby. It held a few books and, Bakura had to notice, a knocked over photo frame. He wondered if that was on purpose or if they just hadn't noticed.

The woman asked him if he wanted anything to drink. He declined even though he was sort of thirsty, mostly because it felt weird. He didn't even know her name, still. She went into the kitchen and eventually the sound of water running and a teakettle screaming followed. She must have had it already boiling. The black-haired woman emerged moments later, smiled at him, and took a sip of her tea delicately.

"I apologize," she began, sitting down on the couch daintily. "I never introduced myself, that was very rude. My name is Ishizu Ishtar." She bowed at the waist respectively. Bakura wasn't used to that— he blinked in surprise, before scratching his head as she straightened up. The tea was still perfectly level on the saucer. She was good at balancing.

"Er, that's fine…" Bakura replied awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, Ishtar-san," he attempted his own bow. It was a bit short and not very deep. Sure, he had been taught manners but he never really had to use them— well, rather, he preferred not to. His mother would always chide him for it, but he never saw the need for utilizing them. The people he met were never polite to him, why should he be polite in return? It made no sense.

"Please," she smiled. "Just call me Ishizu. It's easier that way. More often than not, if that name is used, it's addressing my elder brother."

"Oh. Sorry."

Ishizu waved a hand dismissively. They fell into an awkward silence, at least for Bakura. He shifted in his seat, but Ishizu didn't seem to notice. She had closed her eyes, as if in deep thought, and was sipping her tea absently. After a moment, Bakura scooted forward in the chair a bit, lifting himself up just enough to slide the deck of playing cards out of his back pocket. He straightened them, and begun to shuffle.

The woman opened her eyes at the noise, not in annoyance but in pure curiosity. She watched his movements carefully, examining them. Quietly, she spoke back up.

"Bakura-san, was it?" Ishizu began slowly. The white-haired teen nodded silently, continuing to absently shuffle the deck of cards in his hands. The woman paused. "May I ask you something?" She questioned hesitantly.

Bakura looked up, raising an eyebrow in slight confusion. "I suppose so. Shoot."

"How do Malik and Mariku act around each other?"

The question was so out of the blue that is caused a few cards to slip out of his hands. "I... what? How do they act?" He repeated, frowning. "Well ... like themselves?" He responded in a questioning manner, not really sure of the answer himself. He bent down to pick up the cards he dropped, sliding them back into the deck.

Ishizu looked vaguely displeased at the response, but she tried to hide it. She took another sip of her tea. "Do they often fight?"

"Fight? Not really much more than normal brothers, I guess," Bakura replied hesitantly. "Mariku teases the br— Malik a lot, but he sticks up for him just as much." His frown deepened a bit. "Why do you ask?"

Ishizu sighed. The tanned woman let her eyes stray from their guest, landing on the facedown frame in the distance on the shelf. "It's just that it seems their relationship is... very strained when they are here, lately."

"Strained?" Bakura was beginning to feel like a parrot.

She nodded. "Yes. Strained, on edge, over-calculating... They aren't communicating like they used to. I can sense the tension, but neither seem to had become aware of it until I said something." She sighed again, absently rubbing her temple. "Even when I did, they claimed to have not noticed. They're either lying or they truly don't see it."

The teen shook his head, still shuffling the cards. "I haven't noticed anything of the sort." He paused before hesitantly adding: "Sorry."

Ishizu only smiled wanly. "Do not worry about it. Perhaps I'm just imagining things."

Bakura nodded, only vaguely away of what she was saying. Now he was thinking back through the weeks of school he had gone through with the Egyptian twins. Had something been off? No matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn't come up with one instance where the relationship between them had seemed tense. A few more fights than usual had broken out, but it wasn't really note-worthy. Ishizu was, more than likely, just being a protective older sister, worrying over nothing.

A moment later, the door opened, snapping him successfully from his thoughts. In walked none other than the subjects of the conversation themselves.

"Sorry we're late! Practice held me up!" Mariku announced loudly, slamming the door behind him with his foot as he took off his jacket. Malik pursed his lips, glancing back at his twin in obvious disagreement.

"Well, if you had just done what your coach told you, we would've been on time!" He snapped. Mariku only rolled his eyes. He didn't really care.

It was then Mariku suddenly noticed the white-haired teen's presence. "Hey! Cloudy 'Kura!" He grinned. "What're you doing here?"

"Our history project?" Bakura grunted with boredom, much less amused as he straightened the deck before shoving it in his back pocket. "And stop calling me that," he seethed as an afterthought. The Egyptian only grinned wider before the realization dawned.

"Ah shit, I forgot to pick up a poster board. I knew I forgot something, dammit!" The blonde slapped his forehead, ignoring Ishizu's reprimanding of his language. Mariku scowled for a moment before devious violet eyes turned to his twin, feigning a puppy-dog look. "Mal? Go into town for me?" He clasped his hands together, lip jutting out.

Malik thought he looked stupid. "What!" He spat moodily, hanging up his coat. "No! Go back out and get it yourself, you lazy moron!" He glared but his twin didn't relent.

"Please, little brother?" He whimpered, batting his eyes as if that would actually work. "If I go out, we'll get an even later start on our project!" He reasoned. "'Kura'll be bored!"

"Then take him with you!" Malik snapped back.

"Two people can't fit on your bike easily, though!"

Malik looked like he had been slapped. "What? Who said you could take my bike, anyway! Walk! You would wreck it, and like hell I'll let you ruin my baby!"

Mariku could see he was losing the argument, and losing it faster every time he opened his mouth. He thought absently, musing, before skeptically: "What if I gave you a dollar?"

"... No." Malik scrunched up his nose. "That would just about cover the cost of the board."

"Two dollars!"

"No."

A frown. "What if I let you copy my homework?"

"No. Why in hell would I do that? You rarely do it, anyway."

"... Yeah, that's true," Mariku admittedly absently. "What if I made you a cake?"

"No. I don't trust your cooking skills in the least."

Mariku scowled. "What if I bought you a new DVD?"

"No."

"What if I went to gym class in your place?"

"Tempting, but no."

The elder twin paused, thinking hard. After a moment, an idea hit him, and he slung his arm around the other boy's shoulders with a grin. "What if I set you up on a date?"

"N—" Malik stopped dead. He turned red and violently shoved his twin away, "What! A-ah, no! Hell no! I don't want a stupid date, I'm not even interested in that sort of thing,and who the hell even with?" He spluttered, angry.

His twin gave a toothy grin, teasing. "Well, I hear that Devlin guy has the hots for you— ow!" He glared darkly at Malik, who had hit him in the heard. "I was joking! Ra!"

Malik didn't look as remotely amused, but Bakura couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. Ishizu was just watching with a frown. The younger twin shot a glare in Bakura's direction, but was soon looking back to Mariku with an even darker scowl. "Asshole."

"I know." Another grin. "So, will you go?"

"My answer hasn't changed," Malik stated defiantly. His twin frowned. "No, Mariku! I'm not your slave!"

"Well, no, but you're my little brother— it's basically the same thing," Mariku argued absently. His twin only scowled. "... Please? I'll owe you one! Or two! Three, even!"

"No!"

Mariku glowered, thoroughly annoyed now. "... Don't make me resort to blackmail, dearest brother," he threatened darkly, mumbling so only Malik could hear him.

Malik hissed. "I have such on you, too," the younger twin retorted. "I also have little to hide."

The taller Egyptian grinned devilishly, and leaned over to whisper in his ear. A few words in, and Malik was paling- in that was possible. Mariku drew back and his twin looked at him fearfully.

"... What size?" he whimpered.

The grin widened. "28 by 22."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, confused, as Malik turned and wordlessly grabbed his coat before stumbling out the door. The sound of an engine revving came a moment later, and Malik was shooting off into town on his bike. Mariku watched through the window smugly. Ishizu only frowned.

"What did you say to him?" she questioned, her tone dangerous. "Mariku..."

The blonde only laughed. "Don't worry about it, sister."

Ishizu sighed and stood up. She bid her brother a farewell before walking out of the room. She had to get ready for work.

Mariku waved absently before he strode over to Bakura, dropping his bag on the floor. He sat down on the couch across from the chair, slouching forward with a clap of his hands. "So, what was our project over again?"

(-)

Malik, by the time he was walking into the store to get the blasted poster board, was beyond pissed. He stormed to the back of the store and grabbed the paper moodily off the shelf (barely noticing the colour in his rage, he just didn't care) and hoped that no one got in his way as he went to the register. The cashier, slightly terrified of the glowering Egyptian, didn't even bother to attempt conversation past the minimum. Malik was thankful. He at least managed to politely ask for a rubber band or even a paperclip, murmuring an apology for his bad mood as the cashier handed him his change. The girl smiled lightly and gave him a band after digging into her apron, wishing him a good day. He absently returned it.

Malik rolled up the poster, sliding the rubber band on it as he shoved it into his bag and walked out of the store. He got on his bike and begun to slide his helmet on when someone suddenly shouted his name. He stopped, put the helmet on his knee, and turned to glance behind himself. A white-haired boy was walking up to him, waving.

"Ah, Malik-kun!" Ryou called again, laughing. He had a plastic bag swinging in his hand that had various things poking out of it— groceries. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"Hey, Ryou-kun," Malik returned with a smile. "What brings you to this area?"

"Shopping." He held up the bag a bit, grinning. "I was just on my way home, actually. What about you?"

The Egyptian sighed loudly. "Doing Mariku's shopping. He needed some stupid poster board for his project with your brother. Of course, he forgot to get it until the last minute…"

Ryou frowned. "So he made you do it? How rude."

"Actually, he black-mailed me."

"Even ruder."

The two boys started laughing. "Hey, Ryou-kun, did you walk?" Malik asked suddenly, cocking his head. Ryou nodded. "Ah. Well, do you want a ride? Actually…" Malik's eyes lit up with an idea. "How about you come back to our house? I could use some company. We could study for our Lit test tomorrow," He suggested.

Ryou brightened up. He had walked the entire way, and it was a good 30-minute walk, at least, back home. "That's a great idea, why thank you so much Malik-kun." He remarked, smiling. "I have milk, though… perhaps I could store it temporarily in your fridge?"

"Fine by me. Hop on."

Malik had Ryou put his groceries in the bag that the Egyptian had stuffed the poster board in, handing him the extra helmet attached to the back. Ryou cautiously put it on, now a little worried. Malik shot him a reassuring smile as he pulled his own helmet on.

"I'm a safe driver, but hold onto me and don't let go."

Ryou laughed nervously, sweatdropping as he got on. He wrapped his arms around the other boy's waist, burrowing his face into his shoulder blade to hide the blush that was suddenly on his cheeks. "Didn't have any intention to…"

(-)

"Do we need anymore pictures, 'Kura?" Mariku called over as he walked into the parlor where Bakura sat with the Egyptian's laptop. The printer was in his and Malik's room.

"I think we got enough," Bakura remarked, absently typing. "We probably have too many, now that I think about it. We're going to need to gather more information, I'm guessing."

"Ugh, research, the bane of my existence," Mariku remarked, scrunching up his nose in disgust. He plopped onto the floor, grabbing the scissors to start cutting out the pictures they printed. They still had to mount them on construction paper. "Hopefully the brat won't wake too long. Gonna need that poster board soon…"

Bakura grunted. "I'm shocked he even went. What did you say to him?" He questioned bluntly, although he was vaguely curious.

"Nothin' you need to worry about, Cloudy." Mariku ignored his partner's growl of "stop calling me that!" as he continued to cut. The room fell into silence, other than the clacking of Bakura's typing (and the occasional "damn" when he wouldn't find the information he needed) and the soft "snip" of Mariku's scissors.

"Ne, Ishtar?"

Mariku glanced up with his eyes momentarily. "What?"

Bakura hesitated for a moment, but he decided to take the plunge. "Did something happen between you and the brat recently?"

"… Why do you ask?" Mariku mumbled, hoping the strain in his voice or the tenseness of his body wasn't showing.

The other teen continued typing. He hadn't noticed. "Your sister said you two've been acting weird. Something about how your relationship seems strained."

Silence, and then: "… You don't say."

"Mmhm," Bakura agreed. He stopped typing to glance at his partner— it was then he noticed how rigid the boy looked. "Y'okay?"

Mariku seemed to suddenly relax, as if he was just snapped out of a trance. He flashed a grin at Bakura, "Yep! I'm fine. We're fine. Malik was just being overly sensitive as usual," he began. "I made a remark that offended him somehow, for whatever reason. Just a little fight, but he's still moping about it." The lie slid easily off his tongue. "So, I guess you could call it strained."

"Ah."

The door opened and Malik's voice pieced the silence… but then, so did another voice.

"Haha! I know, right? It was really funny, if not awkward. I couldn't look him in the eyes for like a week straight," Malik said with a chuckle. The soft laughter of a certain boy followed.

"You have a lot of amusing stories, Malik-kun," Ryou giggled with a grin. "They're much better than the horror ones that my brother tells. I don't like all that mindless gore he spins…"

Another laugh. "He's as bad as my brother, then. I have too many funny stories! I'll have to tell you some more, later." Malik dug into his bag and pulled out a rolled up poster. "Hey!" He called, glaring at his brother who had now noticed his twin and friend standing there. Mariku turned around on the couched, leaning on it. "Got your poster board, you lazy ass."

Mariku fumbled as the poster was tossed to him. Once he managed a grasp, he examined it before he stared, blank-faced towards his brother. "… Little brother," he started slowly, his voice holding a dangerous edge, "What is this."

"Your poster, what's it look like?"

Mariku snarled, "It's hot pink!"

"That's what you get for making me do your shopping!" Malik snapped back, glaring in return. "You specified no colour, you demanding jackass!"

"I assumed you'd get white," the elder twin growled back.

"Well, you assumed wrong." Malik turned his nose up. "Take it or leave it. That's all you got." He started to walk towards the kitchen, Ryou at his heels. It was then Mariku finally actually noticed who was with his little brother. He shouted, causing the boy to stop.

"Ryou!" Mariku grinned— if he had a tail, it would have been wagging. "Hey! Uh, what are you doing here?"

The white-haired teen blushed a bit, turning to face the blonde. "O-oh, hello Ish— Mariku-san. Malik-kun, uh, gave me a ride back. I, er, am here to study with him."

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"Literature… we have that test tomorrow," Ryou said absently, chuckling when his brother looked remotely startled. "You forgot?"

"…No," Bakura responded slowly but it was an obvious lie. He usually did forget that sort of thing, thus the reason he usually bombed the tests.

Ryou started to laugh and Malik (who had put Ryou's groceries in the fridge or just on the counter with a note that read "THESE ARE RYOU'S, DON'T TOUCH" in Arabic) re-entered the room, raising his own eyebrow at the amusement. Bakura just looked irked. Mariku was in his own little world, smiling happily at the fact Ryou was over.

"What's so funny?" The younger blonde questioned as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Mariku grinned, back down to earth. "Nothing but 'Kura's memory," he replied, taking his eyes to his project partner and winking.

Malik rolled his eyes. "Come on, Ryou-kun… Let's go study. Leave the psychopaths to their work." He grabbed Ryou's wrist lightly and the white-haired teen waved to the other boys before getting dragged off. Mariku stared after them, feeling a vague prick of jealously. He sighed, letting it go, and turned around on the couch only to glare moodily at the hot pink poster tossed on the table.

"… That brat."

Bakura snorted. "He's certainly a smart-aleck, isn't he," he noted bitterly. "Vengeful as a girl."

"Just a bit," Mariku sneered sarcastically. He picked up the poster as if it were radioactive, nose scrunching up in disgust. "Well… it's either this or nothing, I guess." He unfurled it, grumbling moodily as he rolled it up absently the other way to attempt to flatten it out. He plopped back down to the floor, setting it down, before starting to strategically place the pictures. "Guess that's his way of getting back at me."

"Sneaky," Bakura remarked. Mariku only grunted.

"Print the info out, 'Kura," the Egyptian said eventually. "Do we have it all?"

"Still probably not enough," the other replied honestly, beginning to clack away at the keyboard again.

"Bah. Well, print out what we have then, so I can start putting this crap on," Mariku murmured with a sigh. There was more typing and a few clicks of the mouse.

"Sent 'em. Where's your printer?" Bakura asked absently, setting the laptop on the chair as he stood up.

Mariku didn't look up from placing and gluing letters down for the title. "My room. Straight back, last door on the right. It'll have an indent in the bottom corner."

"All right." The white-haired boy walked down the hallway (silently wondering why the other teen's door had a dent in it but then again it was Mariku, it was better not to ask), glancing at the doors until he came to the last one. He heard voices from inside and frowned, opening the door without even bothering to knock.

Malik and Ryou looked over at him, the latter smiling widely. "Hi nii-san!" he chirped.

Bakura hid his confusion. Mariku had said this was his room. Although the wonder vanished as he noted the room had two beds— the twins shared. He supposed that made sense. He raised his hand absently in a returned greeting, walking over to the printer that was beginning to spit out pages.

Malik ignored the other boy, keeping his attention on Ryou. "So," he started, "the reason the main character said that was to draw attention to the concept that he actually had guilt?" Malik questioned, looking at his notes while chewing on his pencil eraser.

"Right," Ryou agreed. "It proves he's changing by developing a conscience."

"… If you ask me, he's still an asshole," Malik remarked while scrunching up his nose. Ryou started laughing, nodding in head in agreement.

Bakura glanced at them quickly before picking up the papers the printer had spat out. He straightened them, and then begun to sift through. He noticed one didn't print right, so he strode over to the door and poked his head out. "Hey!" Bakura shouted down the hallway. "Print out page 4 again, will you? It didn't come out right!"

"Gotcha!" Mariku shouted in reply.

Malik looked over to Bakura with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Getting further in your project?" He asked conversationally.

Bakura leaned against the wall, eyes focused on the printer. "Obviously," he said shortly. He paused, noticing Ryou give him a mild glare out of the corner of his eyes. Right. He was supposed to try and be "nicer" since the brat was the younger twin's friend. "Yeah, we are," Bakura elaborated. "We're trying to cover up as much of the poster as we can," he added with a vaguely sour face and an annoyed tone.

Malik smiled, chuckling. "Would you believe me if I said it actually wasn't on purpose?"

"Not particularly."

The blonde just laughed again. "It really wasn't. I just sort of grabbed one and it just happened to be pink."

Bakura snorted, ambling to the printer, which just now decided to receive its command and print. "Well, if the class thinks we're gay, it's all your fault," he teased with a smirk tossed back in Malik's direction. The Egyptian looked vaguely startled. Bakura turned around and saw the look, frowning. "What?" He grunted, raising his eyebrow.

Malik blinked a few times before shaking his head. "Nothing," he replied dismissively.

"… I'm not gay if that's what you're surprised about," Bakura continued bluntly, looking annoyed. Malik just shook his head again.

"No. I figured that."

Bakura rolled his eyes and left with a wave of his hand. Malik stared at the closed door for a few moments before catching Ryou's curious eyes.

The blonde smiled lightly. "What?"

"You looked so startled, Malik-kun," Ryou explained as he cocked his head. "Why is that?"

"Oh. Uhm…" the Egyptian hesitated. "I don't know if it's my place to tell," he said carefully, frowning and hoping he wasn't offending the other boy.

"Please? I'm mighty curious," Ryou pleaded honestly, smiling. "I can keep a secret. Promise!"

Malik seemed to think on it for a few more seconds before he gave in. He scratched the back of his head before holding his hands out, palm-up and using them to gesture. "Mariku plays the field," he started slowly and hoped Ryou would keep up. "But he's not always in home field…" He hinted heavily.

It went over Ryou's head. He didn't seem to get it.

"I know he plays football. How can he not play for our school, though? I know he's on our team…"

Malik twitched, resisting the urge to face-palm. Better not to beat around the bush, he supposed. "Ryou-kun, my brother is gay."

Silence followed.

Slowly, realization dawned.

"Oh!" Ryou exclaimed, squeaking and turning bright red. He covered his mouth, completely embarrassed. His words were muffled: "Oh my, I can't believe those hints went over my head. They make so much sense now…" He took his hands away, although his face was still holding a dark blush. He paused, seeming to contemplate something. "That's surprising, although… well, I guess it makes sense. He's never seemed to like girls when Jounouchi-kun would bring them up…" He put a finger to his lip, now looking thoughtful rather than embarrassed. "I can't figure out how to word my sentence without it sounding offensive. He didn't strike me as the… well, I don't know. I don't mean the stereotype when I say that, I guess… but he still seemed more, ah, asexual?"

"Ah. Yeah, he does, but he's not. Trust me. So, you mean he doesn't check guys out or?" Malik asked absently. Ryou nodded. The Egyptian just shrugged. "He does. Just when he will, it's subtle— actually, he's really picky. Not many suit his standards. Leave it to the easy-to-please psychopath to have high expectations."

For some reason, Ryou found that funny. He started laughing, eventually causing Malik to join in. Laughter really was contagious.

Bakura glanced behind himself and back down the hallway at hearing his brother and the brat erupt into laughter. He raised an eyebrow before rolling his eyes and walking into the living room. He was met with a most hilarious scene: Mariku had glued one hand to his shirt and the other to their poster board.

Now Bakura was laughing— so hard, in fact, that Malik and Ryou came out of the room to see what was going on. They found Bakura collapsed against the wall, laughing like a hyena as he held his stomach— the most emotion they had seen from him all week. Mariku was screaming at the boy to "shut up it's not funny" and "Ra damn it all, help me!"

From that day on, Mariku was never allowed to touch the super-glue again.

(-)

It took hours to get him unstuck.

When Malik called Ishizu for help, it was hard for him to keep the amusement out of his voice— even his sister, a very serious person who was rarely amused, was laughing. Since she was at work, she couldn't get a manufactured aid, but she did suggest a home remedy. After many unsuccessful attempts, they finally got at least the poster board unstuck so Bakura could work on that while the younger set of twins helped Mariku. Finally, they detached him from his shirt and almost two hours of "home remedying." The Egyptian's hand was red, raw, and stung like hell— but he was happy enough to have it back.

"That was a nice distraction," Ryou giggled.

"Speak for yourself!" Mariku snapped, turning red from embarrassment. "I fail to see the humour!"

"I don't," Malik said silkily, grinning.

Bakura snorted, smirking. "How did you even manage to glue your hand and the poster board?"