Akefia was… anxious. Anxious to say the least. It had been a week since he had seen Marik, and for whatever reason, he wasn't answering his phone. Texts, calls, picture messages accompanied with all capital letter text screaming at him to pick his phone the fuck up, all went unanswered.

"He's embarrassed," Bakura chuckled, pulling her shirt back over her head. "Let him sulk it out, he'll be fine."

"Eh, you don't know him," Akefia returned, running a hand through his tussled hair. "He wouldn't just skimp out on me like this. When he's embarrassed, he tries for humour. Avoiding me all together…" He frowned, sitting up in bed to properly see the girl.

She rolled her eyes, tugging her skirt back on. "You know, as sexy as it is to complain about your friend right after fucking, I think I'm gonna get goin'. I've got shit to do tomorrow, I'm actually going to need to sleep."

Akefia only hummed, flopping back in his bed. "You know the way out."

"How gallant," she snorted, flipping her hair as she exited.

He sighed, staring at his ceiling. Things had progressed in an unexpected matter, after the party. The two had laid together for quite some time afterwards, making jokes that were funny only to those coming down from drugs and crazed sex. But some amount of lucidity remained, for the two decided they wouldn't say goodbye at the end of the party. They exchanged numbers, and agreed on a no-strings-attached relationship of sorts. Just fun. They had been with each other three times already since the party, twice at Akefia's, once at Bakura's places.

Akefia's life felt rather full, now. He was a building services engineer, which was a nice sounding title for designing, installing, operating, and monitoring the mechanical and electrical aspects of buildings being built. He was an educated electrician, essentially. Waking up at 5 in the morning, being on site between eight and ten hours, smelling like burnt cloth and wires, and staring at light fixtures in buildings were all normal facets of his life.

He spent most of his day working, his evenings either relaxing or hanging out with Marik when he invited himself over, and his weekends and Friday nights out on the town doing whatever he liked, again, usually with Marik. He was his only real friend left over from college, and being usually anti-social with males, he didn't make any others. But then, he didn't really feel the need to. And now, with Bakura just a text away and willing, he wouldn't have to go far for sex.

Akefia wasn't really one to date, either. He didn't see the point. He'd have to spend his precious time with another person all the time, buy her things, surprise her, keep her happy, talk to her, woo her, and only occasionally get laid. Why complicate his life with that? Now he had Bakura mutually at his beck and call, he had everything he needed.

Yet he still felt somewhat empty. He assumed it was due to the absence of his friend, and once he had him back, everything would be perfect. … Perfect.

Without that major facet of his life, Akefia felt almost as though one of his limbs was missing. It wasn't so much that he had gone a week without seeing him - that would be a bit clingy, and if there was one thing that bothered Akefia, it was clinginess. No, it was more the obvious inability to contact him. As long as he had the capability of sending Marik a text and having him answer, even if it was just a short dialogue of 'My place, now.' 'Aye, aye, captain,' he would be placated.

But not being able to reach him at all was making him antsy. Would he just leave his phone somewhere and choose to avoid him, just because of a threesome? He wouldn't have thought so, and yet, here they were.

Thinking back on what they did was a bit of a haze. The last he remembered was Bakura's instruction to go at each other, and after that, things were a blur of colours, moans, sensations, pleasure. Bakura had told him what had happened in vague tones; Marik had taken him into his mouth and sucked him like a kid with a lollipop, while he himself all but melted into the sheets. Bakura then hopped up and rode him for all he was worth.

Blood rushed to his face in a blush, his eyes narrowed and looked away, remembering flashes of the incident. Marik's hand around him, stroking, his lips sinking down on him, finally finding a practical use for that damned long tongue of his, other than licking Akefia's face. Rather, he licked something much better entirely. Their eyes met, moans bubbled to their lips –

"Tch."

Akefia scowled at the ceiling. He had not had any sort of sexual contact with a man before then. It just wasn't what he was in to. So it was with frustration and irritation that he found he had done nothing to stop him, beyond his original apprehension. Once the actual foreplay started, his defenses dropped faster than a ton of bricks. Why?

He sighed and rolled over, burying his face into one of his pillows. Sleep now. Tomorrow he'd go bang on Marik's door until he answered. All he needed was to talk to him, and then things would be back to normal. But for now, sleep…

BREAK

Marik was currently in quite a similar position. Face buried in his pillows, flopped on his stomach, he, however, was just waking up. "Mnnh…"

"Oh, Jesus Christ." The slightly nasal-y voice Marik so dreaded hearing was huffing at him from the open door to his bedroom. "Are you still sleeping?"

Clinging to a pillow more tightly, Marik said nothing. His eyes shut tightly, and he concentrated with all of his might, willing his brother away. It was such a curse, sharing an apartment with your twin.

His intent ignoring of the other was cut short as something hit him across the head. "OW-! Malik, what the actual fuck!"

"It didn't hurt that bad, whiner. Get up. It's nearly eight at night."

Marik grumbled as he reluctantly kicked the blankets off of himself, rubbing the spot on his head. His eyes landed on the object just a hand's reach away. Picking it up, it only took a few seconds for him to realize what it was. "… You threw your shoe at me?"

"Your shoe. Which I tripped on in the kitchen. Again. Get up." Malik flicked the lights on and off on him, scowling. "Come on, boy. Up up up."

Growling, Marik stood, stumbling toward the door. "What do you even want," he huffed, clearly irritated. "Can I not just live here without occasionally being struck with footwear?"

"No." Turning, Malik strode through the small apartment to the kitchen, where the empty pastel coloured cardboard boxes led Marik to believe he was nuking a frozen dinner. "You've done nothing but lie about and watch the television for the last week. And as much as I love walking out here and seeing you eating cereal out of the box in your underwear…" The tone was irritated, but seemed to mask something else. Worry, perhaps? "Have you been looking for a job?"

Marik rolled his eyes. "If I'm just going to be interrogated, I'm going back to bed." He folded his arms and leaned on the counter next to the refrigerator, debating the pros and cons of cracking open a can of Red Bull.

"Look," Malik sighed, turning back to look at him again, a frown on his face to go with his tone in his voice. "Something's the matter with you. You don't have to talk to me about it, but that means I can't help you with it. And, I love you, but shit; you're becoming such a burden. You need to get a job, or I don't know what I'm going to do. You need to do something to help me help you."

Frowning back, Marik stood a little straighter. "You know I can't do that pussy pencil-pushing job like you. I tried."

Marik had been out of work for eight months now. He and Malik had both gotten entry-level jobs at a local business, making phone calls and trying to get people to buy things they don't need with money they don't have. Or at least that's how Marik remembered it. It was a blur, most of the time.

They would wake up at six, shower and change, sit in traffic, walk to work from a parking lot way too far away, sit in a cubical, do the same thing hour after hour after hour until four thirty, punch out, sit in traffic on the way home, heat up a frozen dinner, eat, sleep. After about two weeks of this, Marik had gotten quite unstable.

That was how he lost his job. Sitting at his desk, jiggling his leg to keep himself awake as he stared at text on the screen that all ran together, one of his bosses approached him. "Malik, isn't it?"

His eye twitched. "Marik," he had corrected, chewing his lip and keeping his eyes on the screen.

"Ah, yes. The other one. Well, Marik," He remembered his voice being incredibly grating, a dull drone of monotony. He was sure if he recorded his boss talking, he would have the universal cure to insomnia. "You know, that paper you turned in to me? Yeah, it was on golden rod. I get the periwinkle."

This time his shoulder had twitched. "My mistake," Marik responded dryly, mechanically. "I'll fix it in the future."

"See that you do," his boss nodded, turning and heading out.

Not ten minutes later, his other boss was knocking at his cubical. "Malik, right?"

"Marik," he corrected in the exact same tone as before.

"Ah, yes. Well, Marik, that paper you turned in to me? Yeah, it was on sea foam. I get golden rod."

He cleared his throat. "My mistake," he said, mechanically. "I'll fix it in the future."

"Please do."

Ten minutes after that, his third boss came to his cubical.

"Malik, right?"

"Marik."

"Ah, yes. Well, Marik. That paper you turned in to me? Yeah, it was periwinkle. I get sea f—"

And before the statement could be finished, Marik snapped. He stood and punched his boss so hard, he had a black eye for the week to come. Or, that's what Malik told him. Marik had been escorted off the premises by security, and was barred from returning to the building.

"Yes, it didn't work out," Malik rolled his eyes. "And that's fine. There's plenty else out there that you could do if you honestly thought about it, actually tried to get a job."

Marik's lip curled. Turning away, he extended a hand, grasping his dark purple coat he wore whenever he went out at night. "Look, I'm going to get going. You should get some sleep. You sound tired."

"…" Malik rubbed his eyes and wearily eyed him. "Marik… wait."

It was with no shortage of reluctance that Marik turned on his heel and looked back at his twin, hands curled into fists and resting on both his hips. "Yes?"

"… I'm sorry. I'm stressed, I shouldn't take it out on you." Malik sighed, refusing to look at him. He never willingly admitted he was wrong, and even more rare was it that he would discuss his feelings. The vague hostility drained from Marik's face, rather listening with a different sort of frown. Malik still did not look at him as he continued. "I'm… getting worried about you, alright? I don't know how else to deal with this, other than yelling at you, and that doesn't seem to be working. Ordinarily I'd let you work all this out in your own time, but you've been different recently. Distant and defeated. It's not like you. Please just ––" His eyes hardened, a scowl on his face, fixated on some point on the wall. "…Go. Go get your life sorted. Or I'll throw another shoe at you."

Without another word, Malik grabbed a plate from the microwave that was still half-frozen, and stalked off for his bedroom, slamming it behind him.

Marik's eyes widened as he departed, and winced as the slam shook some of the plates in the cabinets. He was taken aback. His situation must have been worrying and draining on him for some time if he went out of his way to make a point at it, rather than darkly hinting.

Running a hand through his hair, Marik shook his head. Whatever. Malik was not his concern. And though he trailed off after suggesting he might throw Marik out, he highly doubted his twin would do something so cold to him.

He returned to his room, threw on cargo pants, a black shirt, and tugged on his purple coat. He could see his phone in the corner of his eye, lying untouched for the last two days. Morbid curiosity more than anything drove him to walk over and gingerly pick up the device, checking his messages.

Four text messages, three calls, one picture message, all from Akefia. One message from Malik and one from a number he didn't recognize.

'Hey, you busy?'

'I'll take that as a yes. Tomorrow, then?'

'Marik, where are you? Why aren't you answering?'

'That's it, I'm filing a missing persons report.'

The picture was of a Domino police station, with the caption 'I'LL DO IT. ANSWER ME.' underneath.

The corner of Marik's mouth twitched upward. He was really missing Akefia. But he just wasn't ready to talk to him yet. Going over to his place risked running into Bakura again, something he wasn't sure he'd ever really be able to handle.

He could see Akefia's face, playfully threatening him as he wrote the text messages. Suddenly, it felt as though a fishing hook pierced his heart, being reeled in haphazardly with the extremity of his yearning to go to his friend's house, plop on his couch, and pretend nothing had happened. Pretend there had been no threesome. There was no Bakura. No stigma.

But that was going to be impossible. Not when he was actively and consciously trying to deny the obvious.

He put the phone down, a sinking feeling emerging from the pit of his stomach. Expertly keeping his face blank, even though it was only for his own benefit, he turned without another glance at the phone and strode out of the small apartment, heading wherever his feet would take him.

The phone would just sit there, blinking its lights for no one to see as it ran out of battery.

BREAK

It was the crack of early when a knock resounded in the apartment, causing Malik to look up from the pot of coffee he was in the middle of brewing. At first, he thought it was a trick his mind was playing on him, but as the sound happened again, louder this time, there was no mistaking it was indeed some idiot knocking on the door this early. Scowling, he set down what he was doing to shuffle off to the door.

"What do you want," he said loudly, suspiciously to the knocker.

"Oi, is Marik here."

Malik's shoulders slumped as he recognized the loud, gruff, none-too-pleased voice. Of course. "No. He hasn't come home since last night."

Malik could almost feel the air get tenser, the temperature drop a temperature or two as the other replied. "…. May I come in."

It was a question, but one that was clearly meant to be answered with a 'yes'. Malik didn't really see much of a choice, so he carefully pulled the heavy door open.

Striding in, Akefia's eyes were narrowed; his entire body seemed to be tense. "Where is he."

"I don't know." Malik's eyes rolled as he returned to what he was doing before he was so rudely interrupted. Tan fingers found a deep ebony mug, and just as they were about to pry it from its perch on the cabinet shelf, a large hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from moving. Malik's grey eyes met Akefia's angry violet ones, and even as he steeled himself and made his own eyes cold, he knew he wasn't getting out of this. Much as he put on a front, Akefia could scare the living daylights out of him if he actually tried.

"Where did he go. Why isn't he answering my attempts to contact him." Akefia all but growled, grip on Malik's wrist tightening.

"Ow – Let me go first." Malik sneered right back.

After a moment of silence, Akefia's hand reluctantly let go of the smaller wrist, but he did not step back. Malik bit back a sigh. "…Well?"

"…" Rolling his eyes again, the blonde turned and leaned on the counter, looking at the wall rather than the (as he wouldn't admit) intimidating man. "I honestly don't know where he went. He left last night around eight thirty and he doesn't seem to have returned since."

Akefia's eye twitched.

"… As for why he's not answering you, I don't know. All I can say is he's been sleeping from dawn till dusk, and when he is awake, all he does is sit on the couch and stare mindlessly at the television. His eyes are glazed over; I'm not sure he's... actually watching anything." Halfway through his explanation, his cold expression faltered, giving his real feelings a chance to peek through: concern.

The bigger man didn't move. That definitely wasn't good. Marik ordinarily was energetic, upbeat, joking. For him to just sit, stare, sleep, and ignore him, something must be seriously wrong. Perhaps worse than he had thought.

"… And you have absolutely no idea where it is he might be."

Malik sighed. "All I can tell you is some nights he smells like alcohol, and others pine."

He was just about to ask where Akefia would start looking, when he heard the front door slam. Shaking his head and allowing his worry to come through again, Malik returned to his morning routine, reaching for the pinch of sugar he liked with a distracted hand. It was as he was pouring salt into his hot cup of coffee that he really stopped, and shook his head. "Oh, Marik…" He frowned, rubbing his temples. "If you don't get better soon, I'll end up accidentally poisoning myself."

BREAK

Akefia threw his phone into the glove box of his car, angrily yanking the wheel to the left. He had just called off work with the transparent excuse of being sick. But if he got in trouble later, that was something he was willing to risk. Tapping his wheel without any real pattern to it, his narrowed purple eyes scanned the streets and street signs, looking for any trace of to where his friend might have gone off.

Alcohol and Pine… That really only led him to two conclusions. One, he was at a bar, two, he was at a park or a forest. The only forest in Domino was a dense trail leading up a small mountain just outside of town, and he was sincerely hoping that was not where he had gone; it would take hours to find him.

Though that might have been in his personality to traverse a large expanse without a map or any sense of direction. Akefia chewed his lip as he thought of this, eyes narrowing further. When he finally did find him, he was torn between what he would do. On the one hand, he could pull him into a tight hug, then shove him away and demand he explain himself. On the other, he could slap him in the face and demand he explain himself. It all depended on the condition he found him in.

Tires squealing in protest as he peeled up to a bar near to Marik's apartment, Akefia's eyes glared down the sign in front of the dingy looking building. Tipsy McStagger's. Lovely.

He cracked his knuckles as he strode inside, his stomach muscles clenching in preparation of the worst.

Inside was a dull, dreary atmosphere. Early morning meant the bar was officially closed; the bartender in the middle of shooing away drunks slumped over on the not-so-clean counter. Hung all around in the bar were burnt out neon signs, some still flickering pathetically. The place smelled strongly of vodka – which Akefia saw was due to one of the drunken men having knocked over a full bottle onto the entire floor.

The man was currently being shoved at with a large broom by the agitated bartender, being cursed at with murmurs of: 'Geddup ya lazy bum,' and 'Clean up's added to yer tab, ya ugly brute...' The bartender was a portly man in his late fifties by the look of him, bald save for tufts of hair on either side of his head, and very red in the face. He looked up with small eyes at Akefia, who was currently scanning all the slumped over men for any hint of wild blonde hair or tan skin.

"Oi, sorry mate, we're closed."

Akefia turned to the bartender, giving him a dark look, which made the man shrink back just slightly. "I don't want anything from here. I'm sure I'd get some sort of disease." He advanced on the bartender, the drunk rousing to see him coming and instantly pretending to be asleep again.

"I'm looking for someone. I need to know if you've seen him."

The bartender puffed himself back up, resting a red hand on the grey-ish bar and trying to be self-important once again. "I seen a lot of people 'round here, what with this bein' a bar an' all. I might need some help."

Akefia's upper lip curled, and the bartender seemed to deflate a little once more. "You would remember him. Tall, lavender eyes, tan skin, violently wild blonde hair…"

His eyes widened, and he seemed to shift his posture just slightly. "…. Yeah. Yeah I know 'im. Odd lookin' fella, but keeps t' himself."

"Tch." Akefia didn't take kindly to the description, but he was in need of finding Marik. The unflattering comments can wait. "Has he been here recently."

"Yeah. Earlier t'day, as a matter of fact. Came in 'ere all angry and twitchy, demandin' drinks and slamming money on the table. Didn't mind, o'course, money's money. But 'e kept mumblin' t'imself. Seemed a bit… er… unstable, there's the word. Broke one of my glasses an' all! Squeezed it in 'is fist an' smashed it. 'e left after that." The bartender's fingers stroked the tufts of grey hair as he remembered, nodding as he finished.

"… Any hint of where he might have gone." Akefia scowled, disliking the man more and more. He could picture the incident fairly well, and it didn't sound promising.

"Eh… Stars. 'E said somethin' about stars. Now either get out or 'elp me get these bums outta my bar, big guy." The man picked up the broom once more and resumed his haphazard jabs of the man still slumped over on the rickety stool, groaning loudly in protest as the broom hit him.

Akefia said nothing else as he turned on his heel and strode out.

BREAK

It took three more stops until Akefia finally found him. The stars comment led him to the nearby park, where at least he found an earring of Marik's. But clearly, he was not there. The trail went cold for an hour in which he looked in the forest but saw no sign of anyone there recently, and then at a nearby meadow. Nowhere could he find any other sign of him.

He ran his hand through his hair, debating getting some breakfast and going in for at least a half-day, when it dawned on him where he might have gone off. And sure enough, as he peered through the windows of the Hangover Diner, he saw wild blond hair hunched over in a booth to the far corner of the diner.

He frowned, first at his own stupidity to not even have thought to check here until he was hungry, and then again at the imminent confrontation that was sure to take place. But he sighed, fixed his expression, and carefully got out of the car.

By now the walk inside and to the booth was mechanical, and by his luck, Marik was facing away from the door. He managed to be completely silent as he walked up, eyes fixed on the other. Marik hummed, his eyes shut as he savoured the bite of food he was chewing, his plate of biscuits and sausage smothered in gravy 2/3rds eaten.

"… That gravy does wonders, huh."

Marik jumped, and flinched away from the sound of the voice. His eyes shot up to look at Akefia, who was smirking tiredly at him. An awkward moment passed wherein Marik did not respond, so Akefia took the liberty of sitting himself across from him instead.

"Thought I'd find you here. The alcohol at the bar I looked for you in did not seem high-quality."

Again, Marik was silent. He just fixated his for-once wide purple eyes on his friend, sitting back in his seat.

Akefia frowned, looking wearier still. "…Are you even going to talk to me face-to-face, or are you ignoring me here, too."

Marik winced. He cleared his throat before speaking. "… Yeah. Sorry about that."

Another tense silence followed until mercifully a waitress sauntered to their table. "And hello there sir, can I getcha anything?"

Akefia ordered what Marik had and leaned back in the booth, arms folded, making it clear he was not going anywhere. Marik frowned, going back to eating his food. Several minutes passed before Akefia spoke up again.

"…. Okay, seriously, Marik, what the fuck are you doing."

Sighing with recalcitrance, Marik slammed his fork down on the table and gave him an almost exasperated look. "That's just it, Akefia. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Isn't that obvious?"

Masking the slight surprise at his outburst, Akefia narrowed his eyes further. "Well what's your problem?"

"I don't fucking know!" Marik angrily rubbed his face, saying nothing as the plate of piping hot food was set in front of the man opposite him. He waited until the woman walked away again before continuing. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to you? Fine. I'm sorry. Are we done?"

"…. What is the matter with you? You're behaving so unlike yourself."

"Just because I'm not answering you? Maybe I just wanted a break. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know."

Akefia just blinked, staring at him. He didn't know what to say to that. After a moment of being stared at, blood rushed to Marik's face and he returned to his plate, inwardly cursing himself for lashing out at him like that.

The food untouched in front of him, Akefia just studied Marik's face, seeing the red there. There was clearly something he wasn't telling him. But what was it? "…I talked to Malik this morning. He told me what you've been doing the last week. Or rather, not doing. He's almost as worried about you as I am, you know."

Marik's fork stilled and he was silent, but just for a moment, as he picked the fork back up and more forcefully stabbed a piece of sausage.

"…Marik, please. Is… this about what happened at the party? With us and Bakura?" He twitched quite noticeably. "…I'll take that as a 'yes'. … What about it bothered you? Talk to me – I can't help you if you don't."

He took his first bite of his own food as he carefully eyed Marik, waiting for a response. And for once, one came, after a minute or two of the blonde chewing and thinking it over.

"… Ah... For one, it was extremely uncomfortable running into you and her again, clearly just after having sex."

Akefia nodded slowly, looking at his plate as he smeared the gravy around. It wasn't as good when you weren't hung-over. "… To be fair, you didn't let me know you were coming. I would have warned you."

Marik only shrugged.

"Is my relationship with her bothering you? We're just fuckbuddies, really. She's not going to be my new favourite friend to hang out with, or anything."

Marik sighed again, putting his fork down to rub his head slowly.

"…Marik?"

"…That you are fuckbuddies… is what bothers me," he sighed, shoulders slumping slightly.

Akefia's brow furrowed. "Did you want her? I can text her, I'm sure she'd be willing to fuck you, too–"

Marik groaned in annoyance and frustration. "No. Akefia–– … I don't want to talk about this anymore."

The white-haired man frowned at him in confusion, eyes boring into his, trying to decipher what it is exactly that was bothering him. He kept coming up empty. It was extremely irritating- he felt as though he had been so close to getting it!

"I'll see ya." Abruptly, Marik stood, tossing some money on the table as he turned to leave, taking quick strides back out the door.

"… Wait—" Almost panicked, Akefia yanked out his wallet, threw a ten on the table, and stood, hurrying to follow him out. "Marik—"

It wasn't until they were out in the parking lot, under the beams of the sun starting to really rise in the sky, that Marik whipped around and glared at him. Akefia stopped two paces behind him.

"…You really want to know what's bothering me."

"Yes." Akefia gave him a hard look, face set.

"No matter what it is, you really want to know."

"Yes," he repeated, growling this time.

"Are you sure."

"Marik, just fucking tell me alread–– Mnf –!"

But before he could finish his sentence, Marik grabbed him by the front of his shirt and crushed his lips on the other's, eyes shut tightly.

Akefia just blinked, not moving. Far too surprised to react to the kiss positively or negatively, he did nothing until Marik shoved him away again. It was with still more confusion and almost pity that he saw the redness tingeing his cheeks, and the embarrassment surrounding him as he looked off to the right, glaring at the asphalt.

"…Er," Akefia tried, blinking again and rubbing his neck awkwardly. "You… like me, then?"

Marik sighed heavily. "Yes – No– I don't know." Shaking his head, he seemed to struggle for words. "I… am not sure what I think. I don't want to like, go out with you or anything," he wrinkled his nose at the prospect, "I just want us to be back to normal. … But at the same time, I want to fuck you," he winced, refusing to meet his eye.

Flashes of that night appeared in both of their minds, neither one of them wanting to grasp onto it in a sort of masochistic way, denying themselves the dwelling on memories they wished they could let themselves revisit, but couldn't. It hurt, but a sort of good hurt. The kind that comes with having a dirty little secret you try and keep even from yourself.

Akefia shook his head slowly. "I… Don't know what to say," he said lamely, a hand rubbing over his mouth and chin.

Marik's eyes shot up to his, searching them, embarrassment creeping up on him again. "… Yeah. So uh, I guess I'll get going. Again. See you," he fidgeted, turning around again and starting off.

He didn't get very far, however, as a hand gently wrapped around his wrist to stop him. "No, don't leave."

Marik tensed, but turned around to look at his friend (was he still his friend?) again, silent.

"…. Let's… go back to my house. We'll talk and shit. Or whatever," Akefia said awkwardly, though his eyes met Marik's with sincerity. He didn't know how he felt about this yet, all he knew was he didn't want the other just walking away from him again. If awkward conversation meant he knew where Marik was, and that they were talking again, that was good enough for him.

Slowly nodding, Marik took his wrist back and – using it as an excuse not to meet his eyes any longer – looked around the parking lot for his car. "Taking off work, are you?"

"Yeah," he sighed, leading him to his car a short walk away and hopping in. "I thought this was more important."

Marik slid into the passenger seat and rested his cheek in his palm, quite forcibly staring out the window during the drive, rather than look straight ahead, or lean anywhere near him. The air in the car during that short drive was as tense as the two men in it, each of their minds going a mile a minute. They were both thinking quite similar thoughts, mostly along the lines of 'Well, what on Earth do we do now?'

The tires crunched on the gravel drive way up to Akefia's ranch house, and, without speaking, the men got gingerly out of the car and shoved their hands into their respective pockets, shuffling inside. Habit more than anything else caused them to deposit themselves on opposite ends of Akefia's beat-up couch, both of them looking down at their hands in their laps.

"So," Akefia tried after a minute or two of silence. "Let's… Talk."