A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys are awesome! I'm so glad you all enjoyed that heart-wrenching last chapter...and I hope you're prepared for an even bigger boatload of angst this chapter! Also, I'm sad to say this is the PENULTIMATE chapter. That's right, second to last...I've enjoyed this story so very much, and you guys have made it absolutely wonderful! I'm not going to get too sappy, because there's still another chapter to go, but I just wanted to say how much I love you guys and how much you've made this story a success in my mind :)

Disclaimer: Only that sappy author's note and the angst-y story line to come is mine..

I remember that horrible in between time.

Three months and then a visit. The next time, only a week before he reappeared. Never an answer about how long until he'd come around again.

It became an unspoken topic.

He'd appear. We'd have a day, maybe two at best.

Then he'd be gone again, like a ghost, fading in and out of existence without a word.

Or like a drug that I couldn't get enough of, never knowing when I'd get my next fix.

It taxed me, made me want more, made me want to quit, made me want to rip out my own hair in madness. Because that's what this was.

Pure madness.

No one could really live like this and not lose it a little around the edges. I was losing it a little more than just around the edges, though. I was losing it everywhere.

Weight. Grades. Relationships.

Mostly, I was just losing focus, spiraling downwards.

I used to think it was pathetic, people who put so much into a relationship that they couldn't pull it together when the other wasn't around. But this…this was worse than anything I ever could have imagined.

The first week without him, my spirits would stay high. Memories of our time together keeping me afloat.

The next week, things started to simmer, burning up what reserves I had left.

Soon after that, it would all crumble again.

Darkness was sucking at my heels, making my back burn, trying to pull me under.

At times, I was beginning to like it when my back hurt. It reminded me of when Bakura first saw my scars, first laid eyes on them, ran hands over them, told me I was more than them...it was during our first time, that night after his 'talk' with Ishizu.

On the way there, he could tell something was wrong. I was excited to actually have sex, yes, but I also knew that there would be no more excuses for keeping my shirt on, for showing him the ugliest part of me.

"Marik", he was still driving to his apartment at breakneck speed at this point, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"There is. I think I've known you long enough to think you'd be a bit..."a vague hand gesture, probably trying to describe my nerves in some non-sappy way, "more excited. If you're not ready-"

"I am. It's not like that. You know it's not like that."

"Good. Because I don't know if I have enough willpower to turn around at this point."

I laughed, shaky at best. We were going to have sex. Strangely, I wasn't concerned about how the actual sex went -I was more concerned with it actually happening even after he saw those ugly scars. Maybe he'd be revolted.

Maybe he'd suddenly find all sorts of willpower to turn around and leave me.

"Stop the car."

He didn't need to be told twice, almost like he knew I was going to ask him. I'm so cold and afraid at this point that I think he might have been wondering if I'm about to throw up.

I couldn't throw up even if I wanted to, though. That would be too easy.

"Marik, I was serious when-"

"Shut up."

I didn't even wait to see if he would, I was already twisting around in my seat, pulling my shirt off with fumbling fingers before I could chicken out.

There was a moment of silence, a pause that seemed to last an eternity.

"You know, I'm flattered that you're so eager to get started, but the rule still stands that we're not going to do this in the car. At least...not the first time."

I nearly choked on his unabashed, seemingly unaffected words. Could he not see them? I couldn't even see them, but the knowledge that they were there pressed on my chest like an anvil.

"It's -It's not about...I mean, don't you see them? Aren't they...hideous?"

Another pause, though not so long. This time it was broken by my own gasp, as one cold fingered traced the 'F' cut deeply into my back by my left shoulder. It burned and stung, my eyes beginning to water.

Despite knowing how much pain I must be in, he didn't stop, simply moving on to the 'A', taking his sweet time.

When he reached the first 'G' and my breathing had become positively ragged, he finally began to talk.

"You think I didn't already know about this, hm? That's a nice fantasy. The moment you first were more squeamish about taking off your shirt than your pants, I knew it was something worth looking into."

He was finished with the second 'G' and onto the 'O' now. The pain seemed to intensify with my fear, the closer he got to the end. What would he say when there were no more letters to trace?

I didn't have to wonder for long. Tracing the scar of a 'T' can only take so long.

His hand dropped away from my back with a sigh. There was a rustle of movement, and then I felt myself being pulled backwards, my burning back settling against the coolness of his clothed chest.

"B-Bakura -"

"They're not hideous, Marik. They're just the mark of a...past life. A part of you that makes you who you are today. And since I'm rather fond of the you I know now, I cannot truly regret that they were inflicted upon you."

"You...you like them?"

"I wouldn't say that. I like that I have you, and I like...you. They are a part of you. And I don't hate or find any part of you displeasing. Do you understand?"

"I don't think so. I can't imagine not hating them."

"That's because you can't see yourself in the same light that I do."

"Are you trying to be romantic?"

"If I was, it was an accident, I assure you."

"Well, you certainly know how to ruin the mood."

"Oh, you don't know anything of how I set the mood."

"Is that a suggestion I sense?"

"If you're finished with your existential crisis, I could certainly show you."

"Hm, you should have joined the debate team. You're very convincing when you want to be."

"Now would that really have been fair to the opposing team if I did?"

These memories both pleasured and tortured me in the in between times. I would wait desperately for him to return. I'd think of our first time. I'd think of his acceptance of my hideous scars. I'd think of...him.

But soon thoughts of him just wouldn't be enough.

I would be sure I couldn't make it, and then he'd appear again, bringing me back to life.

It was a mess. Not even a hot mess anymore. Just a cold, broken mess.

This time, he came back too late. I didn't want to be brought back. I just wanted to be let go.

"I can't do this anymore."

I finally said it, shrivelled in his embrace after compassionless sex.

My body was there but my mind wasn't, and he knew it. But he kept trying to bring me back.

Desperation. I sensed it in him, too.

He didn't show it like I did. Instead, I got his wrath that I had the audacity to quit.

"Yes you can."

"No."

"You're just giving up."

"Fine. I'm tired of trying."

"You can't give up."

"Yes I can. It's not worth it. Hurts too much."

"You're being pathetic."

"I don't care."

"Well you should! It's disgusting. You're just weak."

His words ignited something in me, like the spark on a rope leading down to a pool of dank, swarthy, foul emotions that had just been sitting inside me, weighing me down for months on end.

"Of course I am. Of course I'm weak. You know what makes me weak? The fact that I need you. I should have known better than to ever need anyone. I should have taken that lesson from Ryuji back when I had the chance."

"Well it's too late for that now."

"No, you know what? It's too late for this. It's too late for you to try to tough talk your way out of this fucking mess you've made of me. You have no idea what it's like."

"Don't I?"

"No, you don't. You're the one who chooses to leave, every time. And you know what? I let you. Because obviously, that's what you want. To leave and come back for a couple of good times, good memories, just so you can leave again! Well that's fine. I'm done with just lying here week after week, moping, waiting for you to come back and pretend to care about me."

"Good. It's pathetic."

"You don't even get it, do you? The pathetic part is that I didn't need Ryuji or anyone else to tell me. I could have learned it from my father. I saw what happened to him. Maybe it was my fault, maybe it was my mother's fault, it doesn't even matter. He told me before anyone else needed to."

"You're being melodramatic."

"Melodramatic? Fuck you, Bakura. Fuck all of this. He should have just written 'Bakura fucking Touzoku' across my fucking back for how pathetic I am, because all I can think about is you, and whether or not you're even going to be there when I wake up in the morning, and how long it's going to be till I see you again and how I'm going to" –

No more words. Just lips, kissing, fierce and hurting.

It wasn't about the sex this time, it was about hurting one another, pushing each other to our limits, because it had gotten to the point where we hated each other but didn't know how to do anything else other than be together.

Was it worse to live like this or to live lives that didn't include each other at all?

I was tired of thinking about it. It was easier just to take what Bakura was giving me, the opportunity to punish him with more than just my words.

He took the pain, the biting, the rough and unpleasant sex.

That's not to say it was better for me. Every wince of his hurt me just as much.

I hated this, but I wanted him to know. It was wrong, very wrong, but I wanted him to know how much it hurt every time I woke up and he wasn't there.

It wasn't like in some cliché movie. There was no rose on my pillow, no note, no indication of whether he was just in the washroom or gone for good.

Or if he ever planned to return again at all.

It was madness.

Complete and total madness.

We lay there, panting, exhausted and in pain after the act. I wondered how stealthy Bakura would be feeling in the morning, trying to creep away while every one of his muscle protested.

The thought amused me, darkly.

As if in contradiction to my surety that he would be hampered by the violent experience, he reached out to me. Grabbing me around the waist (possessive grip still intact, I see) he dragged me closer, forcing me to look him in the eye.

Our breathing was still harsh, the event still raw and fresh. His glare was intense, not cooled at all by the release.

Drawing in air, he clenched his hand tighter around my waist, as though certain I was going to jump up and run away before he could speak.

"I'm leaving again."

"Right now?"

Already the misery was dulling my sense, whittling away at my innards. He grabbed my hair in a painfully tight grip, jolting my gaze back to his.

"In the morning. I will leave. But I'm coming back, and you better wait. Understood?"

I understood, but I didn't respond. I didn't want to, didn't know if I could.

The words just wouldn't leave my mouth. My lips felt too numb to move, like they had been frozen and couldn't thaw fast enough.

He snarled slightly, jerking me closer for another bruising kiss, demanding my attention.

"I –said –do –you –understand?"

"Is that a promise?"

My voice was dull but with a hint of my old snarky exterior, mocking our conversation at the end of my junior year.

Mocking his inability to ever promise his return, whether he even would or not.

He said nothing for a moment, glaring at me, fuming, stewing, absolutely enraged for some reason that I couldn't fully understand.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes…I promise. I'll come back. But you better fucking wait for me, or so help you Marik, you won't even be able to go to hell without me following you down there for eternity."

And he did leave, just like he said he would. The next morning, he was gone.

No note, no flowers, nothing except the indentation of his body where it had been lying next to mine.

I rolled over, emotional, hurting, and pressed my face to where the bed was still warm from his body. My hand curled around his pillow.

It was there that I felt the tear in the fabric.

I looked up, through glassy eyes, and saw the word he had carved into the pillow case, scattering feathers in the wake of his knife.

"WAIT."

I laughed.

I laughed so hard that the tears came running down my face, or I cried so hard that I had to start laughing.

I wasn't sure which.

It was madness.

But I knew as I traced the letters he had put into his pillow just to remind me of both our promises.

I knew that I would wait, not matter how pathetic, no matter how painful.

I knew that I would always, always wait for him, no matter what.

A/N: Oh gosh, that was so angst-y, it hurts to even edit...hopefully not too angst-y for you guys to enjoy it...but as you can see there is a (slight?) hint that things are looking up for our favorite baddies! Also, I inserted that (kind of awkwardly placed) scene where Marik remembers the first time Bakura saw his scars because I swear every other review was requesting it! So, since I do my best to listen to my lovely reviewers, I took some time to put it in. It is a bit random, but hopefully you still enjoyed it! Let me know what you think and see you next week for the final chapter!