So yeah, angst last chapter. ^_^ This one is mostly a continuation, but I hope that things should become clearer. Thanks to everyone reviewing/reading/following/favouriting, as ever I am eternally grateful! XD

This chapter is dedicated to FanGirl16. I sincerely hope it cheers you up, and I shall always be here. Love you very much and I hope this update pleases you.

I would also just like to reiterate that 'Kek' is NOT a name I came up with for Yami Marik. I stole it from Miss Macabre Grey (with her permission) and much as I would love to claim credit for it, it is hers, not mine. Just wanted to be absolutely clear. ^_^ This is a Miss Macabre Grey appreciation post. I love her, and she's amazing, and she never fails to make me smile and help me be motivated to write this thing. So, thank you, Grey, and you should all go read her awesome stories, because she is a wonderful writer!

I hope you all enjoy this update! – Jem.

The next week was one of the worst of Marik's entire life.

Bakura had been so violent and furious after the phone call to his brother that Marik made sure to stay well out of his way, spending as little time actually in the flat as he possibly could. As a result, Marik found himself much more involved in college work than he had ever planned to be, often spending hours at a time in the university library between his lectures and seminars and when he didn't have any work to do he would simply pull out his notepad and start sketching, usually dark, angry images full of dark scratches and deep shading. The grades on his essays immediately improved; a fact that did not go unnoticed by his classmates, much to Marik's chagrin.

He was seated in the library after a morning lecture, tucked away in a corner with his notepad open in front of him, embellishing a dark sketch full of shadows and creatures, when Yami and Tea cornered him. Footsteps approached behind him and Marik's head shot up. He struggled to refrain a groan at the sight of them.

"Hey, Marik!" Tea pulled up a chair next to him, Yami sitting on his other side, effectively trapping him. Tea smiled. "We haven't spoken to you in a while. How are you doing?"

Marik sent her his best attempt at a grin, although it was hardly a twitch of his downturned lips. "I've been just fine, thank you," he replied through gritted teeth.

"Well, we don't really believe that." Tea's smile dipped, her blue eyes clouding with concern as she looked him over. "You've been spending so much time in here recently, we're worried you haven't even been eating!"

Marik held back a snappy retort about how it wasn't any of her business, instead attempting to look pleased that she was concerned. "Oh, no, I'm alright. Bakura's been getting on my nerves, that's all."

"Is it because of Ryou?" Yami's quiet voice, laced with seriousness, cut through their conversation and Marik turned, a little startled. Yami was looking at him with dark, calm eyes, although there was an implacable emotion behind them.

Marik chewed his lip. "He's definitely been worse since you came around and made him speak to his brother. What's going on there? Why does Bakura hate his brother and you so much?"

"Bakura doesn't hate Ryou." Yami's brows furrowed as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes growing far away. "They haven't always got along, but he doesn't hate him..."

Marik scoffed, shaking his head as he thought back. Bakura's tone had been venomous, dark, and chilling when he was on the phone to his brother, and he had attacked Marik afterwards for even asking for the tiniest amount of detail. "Yami, I hate to contradict you, but to me it certainly sounded as if Bakura hated his brother."

"No, that can't be right." Yami pursed his lips. "What makes you think he does?"

Marik couldn't hold back a grimace. "Bakura called his brother right after you left our flat and told him he never wanted to see him again."

"What?!" Tea jumped in, her blue eyes wide as she turned them on Yami, completely ignoring Marik. "I thought you said Ryou was relying on him?"

Yami nodded, his gaze clouding. "He is. He doesn't have anyone else. If Bakura won't accept responsibility, though, I don't know what we're going to do..."

"Bakura will have to." Tea's tone grew defiant. "You can't worry about Ryou as well as Yugi and your grandpa."

Yami's eyes closed. "I know. But if that's the case, neither Ryou nor Bakura is going to be happy."

"That isn't your problem." Tea leaned across the table, right across Marik, and clasped Yami's hand tightly. "You've got to take care of your family first."

Yami's eyes opened and he sent Tea a gentle smile, squeezing her hand lightly. "As ever, you're right. Thank you, Tea."

She positively glowed, beaming across the table, and Marik glared between the two of them. The way they were looking at each other was almost sickening. "Alright, cut it out, you two. What the hell is going on here?"

Yami jumped, keeping his hand firmly in Tea's as he turned with a grin to Marik. "That's right – you've been so busy that we've hardly seen you this week. Tea and I are officially together now."

Tea nodded her agreement with a beam lighting up her face, her blue eyes shining as she turned them on Marik. "Yes, we've finally decided to make it public. We'd rather you didn't spread it around too much, though – dealing with Joey's teasing is bad enough..."

Marik held up a hand, unable to hide the grimace on his features. Spotting Yami's expectant look, though, Marik forced a smile onto his face and released a small laugh, his fists clenching under the table. "Oh, um, well, that's great and all, but I was actually asking about Bakura. What were you guys talking about, saying he has to take responsibility for his brother?"

Yami's expression immediately closed. Tea bit her lip, her gaze fixed on Yami's face, her brows drawn tightly together. Marik looked between them, his knee jigging impatiently as he attempted to wait, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. Yami didn't look at either of them, his gaze lowering to glare at the table, his brows furrowing together as he pursed his lips. Marik ran out of patience. "Come on, Yami! What the hell is going on? I have to live with Bakura, I have a right to know."

Yami remained stubbornly silent and Marik growled. Tea sighed, gently resting her fingers on Marik's wrist as she leaned closer. "He won't tell me either, Marik. All I know is his grandpa's ill, so he might not be able to care for Yugi and Ryou for much longer."

"Why is Bakura's brother even staying with Yami's grandpa in the first place?" Marik frowned, trying to work it out. It didn't make any sense – all the hints Marik had picked up on Bakura's past pointed to him fending for himself, as his parents were dead; he had even claimed to live on the streets at one point, for crying out loud. Surely if a loss like that happened in a family, it would draw siblings closer together, not pull them apart. That's what had happened in Marik's family, anyway. Well, I thought it did, Marik scoffed to himself. Ishizu and Odion are closer than ever, but me? I get chucked to another country as fast as they possibly can. Maybe it isn't so impossible for Bakura to hate his brother, after all.

"Marik?"

With a wrench Marik pulled himself back to the present, his fists clenched on the table and his violet eyes dark and heavy. Tea was sending him a concerned stare. "Are you alright?"

"Just fine." His teeth were gritted, his tone harsh and unforgiving.

Yami pulled out of his own reverie, shooting Marik a concerned frown. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." Marik stood up abruptly, pulling his chair away from the table and clambering to his feet, grabbing his notebook. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine." He could sense their disbelieving stares. Determinedly ignoring them, Marik bent down and fished his bag out from under the desk, stretching forwards, his top riding up slightly.

There was a shocked gasp.

"...Marik. Marik, oh God, what's that on your back?"

Marik's fingers closed around the strap of his bag and he shot upright, instantly pulling his shirt back down. Tea's blue eyes were full of shock and revulsion, her mouth slightly agape, her lips twisted in horror. Yami was by her side, his pale skin even paler than usual as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his lips pressed together in a drawn frown.

There was a weighty silence.

Tea spoke first. "What ... Marik, what on earth happened to you?"

"Nothing," Marik spat, edging away instantly. His shirt scratched against his marred skin and he winced, burning pain flaring in a couple of the scars, although he fought to keep his expression stoical.

Yami shook his head, disgust evident in his tone. "That wasn't nothing. You had ... there were scars..."

Marik flinched at the absolute loathing lacing Yami's tone. He always knew his scars were a disfigurement; they were ugly and loathsome and it was only right for them to be treated with revulsion and hatred. But for some reason, each hideous reaction from Yami and Tea sent stabs down Marik's back. He looked between them, his brows heavy and his jaw set, before he deliberately shoved his notebook in his bag and turned on his heel.

"Marik, wait!" Tea's shout only served to make Marik's footsteps speed up as he hastened out of the library. A gentle grip on his arm had him whirling around, wrenching free despite Tea's pleas. "Marik, please, they looked really painful – you should get them seen to..."

"Shut the fuck up," Marik hissed. His hands balled into fists by his sides as he fixed Tea with a glare, Yami hovering hesitantly behind her. "Shut the fuck up, and leave me the fuck alone."

Tea swallowed, edging back a step, and Marik span with a growl to leave the library. His back burned worse with each step, fiery heat searing along his shoulder blades. He screwed up his face in pain, rushing out into the cold rain as fast as he could and darting into a slim alley away from the crowds. Marik released a low growl as he pressed his palms into the brick of one wall, his fingertips digging painfully into the cracks in the mortar as his eyes squeezed shut, his body bending and creasing in pain. He took deep breaths, holding back the onslaught of memories that threatened behind his eyelids; this was not a good place to have a breakdown. Knives, lamps, and tombs flitted across Marik's mind's eye and he wacked his forehead into the wall, growling loudly in an effort to distract himself. What had he done last time he broke down? Oh, of course, he had been speaking to Bakura then and the pale music student had been there to stop him destroying the kitchen too much.

Not anymore.

Marik threw himself into the wall again when another shudder wracked down his spine, sending hot flares of pain shooting down his back. The scars were burning; in a desperate bid to cool them Marik tugged on the hem of his shirt, lifting it up to his shoulders and allowing the water to caress his scars. Droplets of rain collected in the marred skin, sending sharp hisses slipping through Marik's teeth, but the itching calmed slightly. Marik rested his forehead against the wall and took deep breaths, his hands shaking, his body trembling. He couldn't believe this was happening again.

"...Marik?"

At first, he thought the new voice was Yami, come to check on him. Marik didn't have the strength to move away from the wall, the water cool and calming as it dripped down his sore back; instead, he allowed the footsteps to edge closer, paying them no mind. It wasn't until the voice spoke again that he finally recognised it.

"You're a mess. You should come back to the flat."

Marik ripped away from the wall with a snarl, his shirt instantly sliding back down as he turned on the newcomer. Sure enough, white hair dripped down a long black coat, damp from the rain, and deep brown eyes looked out from deathly pallid features. Bakura was tense, his hands curled into fists by his sides, but his gaze was more searching than angry as he took in Marik's form.

Marik groaned, backing away a couple of steps. "Oh, fucking perfect. The last person in the world I wanted to see."

The skin around Bakura's eyes tightened a little, but he otherwise ignored the comment. "What happened?"

"I am fine," Marik spat, edging back another couple of steps. "Leave me the fuck alone."

Bakura couldn't hold back a snort. "Like hell you are." He advanced fluidly, ignoring Marik's warning snarl, and gripped onto Marik's shoulders, spinning him around. Marik instantly attempted to wriggle away but Bakura held him fast, muttering, "Don't make me fight you again," as he lifted the hem of Marik's shirt. Marik yelped and wriggled when cold fingers touched the scars, and Bakura tutted into his ear. "These are bleeding, idiot. You need to take better care of yourself."

"Maybe if you stopped feeling the need to fight me every two seconds, I wouldn't have to," Marik hissed back, still attempting to wriggle out of Bakura's grip.

Bakura sighed loudly, tightening his one-handed grip around Marik's wrists and shoving him forwards, albeit more gently than usual. "I wouldn't have to keep fighting you if you actually behaved yourself for once."

"I don't have to do whatever you want!" Marik gave up on struggling and took to verbal abuse instead, flinching every time Bakura's fingers brushed his scars. "I didn't even do anything to you. I asked a perfectly civil question about your brother and you completely flew off the fucking handle."

Bakura growled, his grip tightening almost painfully around Marik's wrists as he continued dragging a finger down his scars. "Shut up and keep still."

"That's what I mean. You think you have the right to tell me what to do, and you get all pissed -" Marik drew in a sharp breath, wincing when Bakura's finger met one of the bloodied wounds, "- when I don't immediately do it. I'm not your fucking slave, Bakura."

"I never said you were." Bakura's voice was carefully neutral, but Marik could hear the anger throbbing behind it.

Marik hissed as Bakura kept working at his back. "Sure, never in those exact words, but the minute I turn around and ask you something remotely personal you flip."

"It's none of your business," Bakura snarled.

Marik scoffed. "And my life story was your business? I've been completely open with you, and you have told me nothing in return! Hell, I didn't even know you had a brother until Yami let it slip!"

The hands finally left Marik's back and Bakura span him back around, his brown eyes burning again as he fixed Marik with a glare. "Don't mention that name."

"Oh, yeah, that's another thing!" Marik got right in Bakura's face, his violet eyes narrowed and flashing with fury. "You won't tell me why you hate Yami, either. Or why your brother is staying with his family instead of yours."

Bakura's glare hardened. He tossed his next words through closed lips. "You know my family is dead."

"You told me you're an orphan, yes." Marik drew in a calming breath, still tense as he kept at perfect eye-level with Bakura. "But you have a brother. A living brother who, by the sounds of it, needs your help. Which you won't give him."

Bakura's expression didn't change as he stared Marik down. The moment could have lasted an age as the two remained perfectly fixated on each other, brown on violet in a darkened alley in the middle of a rainy, dreary city. Bakura remained close-lipped, so in the end Marik heaved a sigh, breaking eye contact first. "See? I knew you would never tell me anything."

Something foreign crossed Bakura's face. "Why do you even care?"

"What?" Marik started, his eyes widening as he whipped around to meet Bakura's gaze.

Bakura took a single step forwards, effectively closing the distance between them as he asked again, "Why the sudden fascination with my life? It affects you in no way whatsoever. Why do you care what I do?"

Marik swallowed, backing up a step as the question washed over him. Fear gripped his stomach when he realised he had no answer. "I just – I – I don't know, I'm just interested!" Sensing Bakura's self-satisfied smirk, Marik continued quickly, jabbing a finger in Bakura's direction, "Why were you interested in my life? You had no reason to be, either!"

"Please," Bakura scoffed, smirk defined by his lips now. "You were blatantly obvious about it. I guessed most of it before you told me, and it did become my business when Kek might have been staying in our flat. No, Ishtar, my reasons for wanting to know more about you make perfect sense, but why would you want to know about me? I still haven't had a satisfactory answer."

Marik spluttered, backing up further as Bakura edged closer. "I – it's to – to repay the favour! You know all about me, it's only fair I get something in return. You're a thief; you should understand that."

"But you already have something in return," Bakura countered, amusement lighting his tone now. "You know that my parents are dead, that I steal for a living; I've even let you in my room and let you play my piano. That is repayment enough, no?"

Marik backed up further, his gut clenching when his back met the wall. Bakura's eyes were dancing as he sidled closer still, grin stretching his lips wide, teeth glistening in the darkness of the alley as he leaned right over Marik, who slid down the wall. "So, come on, Ishtar. Spill."

Marik's mind raced. What on earth could he say? Bakura's brown eyes were fixated on his face, that arrogant smirk making Marik's heart race the closer it got, sending shivers tingling down his spin. Marik knew he couldn't tell Bakura the truth – Marik wasn't even entirely sure what the truth was himself. He knew that something about Bakura inexplicably attracted and intrigued him, making him desperate to know anything and everything about his unwanted pale flatmate. But if he said that Marik knew it would only serve to stroke Bakura's already inflated ego.

Instead, Marik lifted his head and spat, "Get the fuck away from me. I was only trying to be polite – I don't give a damn what you do. The sooner you are out of my life, the better."

Bakura's expression instantly hardened, his brown eyes burning as they held Marik's gaze. Marik flinched at the fury hidden in them. Bakura leaned closer still, his breath washing over Marik's cheek as he hissed, "What if I don't want to be out of your life, Ishtar?"

Marik stopped breathing. Bakura was far too close, his dark stare boring into Marik, his hands coming to rest on the wall either side of Marik's head as he bent down. Marik shrank away as far as he could in the limited space, his hair lifting with static as he rubbed against the brick behind him, his violet eyes widening the closer Bakura got. Marik spat, "I don't care what you want."

Bakura growled in the back of his throat, his eyes narrowing. "Perhaps you should, Ishtar."

"Why?" Marik's voice broke a little at their proximity, but his gaze was hard. "Why the hell should I give a damn about you? You've done nothing but use me for your own gain. Get the fuck away from me."

Bakura eyes flashed, his lips pursing as his face went white with fury. Wordlessly he ripped away from the wall, turning without a backwards glance, his black coat swirling around him. One careless sentence was tossed over his shoulder. "If you truly believe that, Ishtar, then you are not worth my time."

Marik sagged against the wall as he watched Bakura exit the alley, his white hair soon disappearing in the crowds of the street. Marik drew in a deep, shuddering breath and sank to the ground, curling into a ball and grabbing his hair in his fists. He could never think when Bakura was around. The pale student had a way of getting right under Marik's skin, knowing just exactly where to dig to get the worst reaction. Marik was getting sick of it. He needed to get out of that flat, urgently, before he completely lost his senses and got caught hopelessly in Bakura's trap. His unwanted flatmate's question kept whirring around in Marik's head; the fact that Marik had no satisfactory answer to it was really bugging him. He didn't know why he was so intrigued by Bakura. All he knew was whenever Bakura kept something from him, hot harsh anger would flare up in Marik's gut and spread furiously through his veins, clouding his mind over with a red haze and forcing him to push the other farther than he probably should. That was most likely why Bakura ended up fighting him so much.

Marik growled when he realised how easily Bakura had pinned him again just then, in this dark alley. The teen was skinnier than Marik and they were exactly matched in height, but Marik knew he had more muscles than Bakura and he was used to using them to defend himself. It bothered him how easily Bakura managed to overpower him. Manipulative bastard, he always knows where to strike so I can't hit him back, Marik grumbled to himself as he pushed himself upright. A small smile graced his lips, however, when he remembered that he had topped, not Bakura, when they slept together. For some reason, that gave Marik a sense of great satisfaction. He isn't the strongest all the time.

Marik leaned back against the wall with a sigh, his fingers absentmindedly going to his back, tracing the scars through his shirt. It was careless and stupid of him to have allowed Yami and Tea to spot them – admittedly, he hadn't expected them to corner him like that, but he still should have been better prepared. He couldn't cope with episodes like this every day. As Marik's fingers slid under his top, he froze suddenly when he realised what was missing.

He was not in pain.

Shocked, Marik ripped away from the wall and ran his fingers up his back. The familiar marred skin met his touch, but it was different – it didn't hurt. Pulling his hands away, Marik brought the tip of his forefinger to his nose and sniffed suspiciously, getting the faintest hint of antiseptic amidst the slightly-wet skin. There was lotion on his scars that hadn't been there before. Marik furrowed his brows, his fingers going to his back once more; yes, there was definitely something there. The higher Marik went, the more obvious it became that his back had been treated with some sort of lotion or cream that he had never seen or heard of before. But – how...?

Bakura.

Marik's jaw dropped. No way – why on earth would his pale flatmate rub his back with something to make the pain go away? That was certainly not something Bakura would do, especially not when they were on such bad terms as they were now. Marik frowned again as he rubbed his back. No other explanation made sense, but it was so strange to think of Bakura being remotely nice after the events of this week. Marik felt a strange warmth grow in his chest at that thought – Bakura must care a bit about him, to do something like this. He could have no ulterior motive, no reason for helping Marik other than to try and lessen his pain. Marik half-smiled...

...And then came back to earth with a grimace. This was precisely why he needed to get out of that flat. Bakura was manipulative, cruel, and certainly not compassionate, and it was dangerous for Marik to assume any different. No, the sooner Marik found a place of his own, the better. With that thought firmly in mind, Marik started back out of the alley and down the street, resolving to book himself another meeting with the Accommodation Officer as soon as he got back to his building.

...

"I can book you in for two hours' time, if that would be any use?"

Marik tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk of reception, eyeing the lady behind the desk with a dark glare. "He's available today? When I last tried to get an appointment with him I had to wait almost a whole week."

"Yes, the Accommodation Office is less busy at this time of year." The lady tapped away at her keyboard for a moment before turning to him with a wide, fake smile. "I can do five O'clock this evening."

Marik nodded brusquely, turning over what to do for the next two hours in his head. He didn't really want to spend time in the flat – he had spent enough time working in the library that morning, and he had had enough of sitting at a desk. Besides, Bakura wouldn't be there. Chewing his lip, Marik considered wandering the streets for a while before deciding that actually, he would rather pay Kek a visit; that way, there was a much smaller probability of running into Yami or Tea, who would no doubt bombard him with awkward questions.

Marik pushed away from the desk after confirming the details of his appointment, turning to exit onto the streets of the city once again. The rain was still coming down heavily and Marik had no jacket, so he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as he walked, the edges of his vision blurred by his dripping hair and the grey droplets still falling from the sky. It didn't take him long to walk to Kek's, thankfully. Ringing the buzzer with a shaking hand, Marik shivered on the doorstep, wringing out his golden hair as best he could until the door was thrown open and Kek beamed down at him. "Oh, you're coming to visit me for once! About time too, pipsqueak."

Marik merely rolled his eyes, pushing past Kek and heading to the flat he remembered from his last visit. "Shut it, Kek, and let me in. I'm freezing."

"Your fault for going out in the rain," Kek shrugged as unlocked the door. Marik made straight for the radiator in the spacious hallway, pressing himself up against it with a sigh as his still-soggy clothes steamed against the heat. Kek scoffed when he saw what his cousin was doing. "Marik, get in here! I've had the oven on, it's warmer."

Marik moved reluctantly away from the radiator, dripping a path into the kitchen where he collapsed onto a seat at the table. Kek placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of him and sat down too. "Well, Marik. Why have you finally decided to grace me with your company?"

Marik shrugged, taking a long draft before sitting up slightly. "I've got a couple of hours to kill before I meet the Accommodation people. Figured I may as well stop by."

"Nice to know I'm such a high priority for you," Kek snorted. He frowned when Marik's words sank in to his skull. "Wait, Accommodation? Why do you want to talk to them?"

"So I can finally get a flat of my own. Why do you think?" Marik took another long sip of his coffee, inhaling the scent of it and wrapping his freezing hands around the steaming mug. He shivered.

Kek frowned at him. "Why are you moving out?"

Marik almost snorted with laughter. His violet eyes were narrowed in disbelief when he lifted his head to fix Kek with a dark stare, his hands curling tighter around the mug. "Kek, you saw what Bakura was like last time you were around. He's a bastard! The sooner I'm away from him, the better."

"You don't really believe that, though?" Kek was definitely frowning now, his features folded in confusion. "You and Bakura are hilarious."

"Well, I'm so pleased to be a source of entertainment to you," Marik seethed, instantly bristling.

Kek snorted, a grin stretching his lips wide as he remained impervious to the violet glare directed his way. "See? Any mention of him and you instantly blow up. It's fucking funny."

Marik continued to glare at his cousin as he finished the last of his coffee, pointedly slamming the cup back on the table. "Well, if I am merely here to be mocked, I think I'll just go. Even an empty flat is better than your crappy company."

"Don't be like that, cuz!" Kek cackled, leering at Marik as he made to stand up. "You know you love it really."

"I fucking hate you," Marik hissed, crossing his arms and tilting his head back petulantly. "You've never been able to just leave me alone."

Kek grinned. "Well, of course not. It's my job to irritate you."

"Fucking fantastic." Marik closed his eyes, rubbing a palm down his face as he drew in a sigh. He checked his watch. "Look, I've got an hour before my meeting. If you're just going to tease me, I'm leaving."

Kek instantly grew serious, his usual grin dropping into a thin line as he regarded his cousin. "Marik, are you really moving out?"

"Of course I am," Marik growled. "Why the hell wouldn't I? I can't cope with Bakura. He's a bastard."

Kek shook his head, leaning back in his seat. "I don't think you should give up that easily."

"What? Why the hell not?" Marik bristled again as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms on the tabletop as he stared at his cousin. "And it isn't giving up – I'm doing what's best for me."

Kek lifted a brow. "Do you really think living all on your own is going to be good for you? You find it hard to be social as it is..."

"I will be fine, thank you," Marik ground through gritted teeth.

Kek pursed his lips. "No, you won't. I know you, Marik, and you freak out a lot. You don't cope well on your own."

"It will be better than dealing with Bakura." Marik's voice faltered a little, thought; Kek had a point. Marik really didn't cope well on his own, the broken chair and cupboard in the kitchen of Bakura's flat were proof enough of that. Bakura always helped to cool Marik down whenever he suffered through a flashback, always appearing to understand what Marik was going through without him having to explain. It was strange, how close the two of them could be.

But Bakura ruined that by taking advantage of me, Marik reminded himself fiercely. Plus he's manipulative and cruel, and I can't take anything he says seriously. I need to get out of there, before I do some real damage.

Kek had other ideas. "You're wrong, Marik. Bakura isn't so hard to deal with, and you cope very well – you don't just let him get his own way. You should stay with him. Never mind the fact that the two of you are hilarious."

"Shut up about that," Marik hissed, his hands curling into fists. "I can't cope with him! He is going to drive me insane if I'm not careful. I need to get away from him, can't you understand that?"

Kek regarded Marik with dark violet eyes. "I think you're making a mistake. Bakura enjoys having you around -"

"No, he doesn't!" Marik couldn't hold back a snort of laughter. "He hates me being there as much as I do! Why the hell would you think anything different?"

Kek shrugged. "He told me so. Not in as many words, but he helps you out and takes you places, and he gave me a job to keep me out of your hair. Doesn't seem like he hates you to me."

That brought Marik up short. He blinked for a moment or two, violet eyes wide as he tried to think of something to say. "Bakura ... gave you a job to help me? Why?"

"I don't know," Kek grinned. "I just got a call from Kaiba to say that Bakura had recommended me, and to keep me out of his and his flatmate's way. Seems like he was doing you a favour, to me. I thought you must have bugged him to get me it."

Marik looked dumbfounded. "I never said a thing to him."

"There you go, then!" Kek laughed. "You don't need to move out at all."

Marik came back to earth with a start, frown instantly returning a crease to his brow. "No, no fucking way. Bakura makes it perfectly apparent that he hates me. I am not staying there a second longer than I have to."

"You're making a mistake, cousin," Kek advised.

Marik shook his head, his lips pursed as he stood up. "I'm doing the most sensible thing, and getting the hell out of there. I've got to go – I'm going to be late."

Kek watched him out of the flat, his eyes glittering mysteriously. "We'll see how long this lasts, Marik. We'll see."

...

The Accommodation Officer sat behind his cluttered desk, clicking away at an old, grumbling computer, filling the small office with clicks and whirs and the scent of musty old paper. Marik wrinkled his nose. His fingers dug into the cheap plastic of the plain chair he was seated on, his lips drawn into a frown as he shifted impatiently.

Another couple of clicks later and the Officer turned to him with a smile. "Yes, there is an availability. We had a drop out over on Crossworth Street, it's a single flat in a block of fifty on the ground floor. You get your own room and kitchen, but you have to share a bathroom, and the rent is more expensive than your current situation."

Marik turned it over in his head, but really, it was a no-brainer. "I'll take it. When can I move in?"

"Hm..." the Officer clicked a couple more times and then nodded. "The earliest would be on Monday."

Four days. Marik grimaced. Could he cope with four more days of living with Bakura? Things were awkward enough already... "Is there nothing earlier than that?"

"I think that's your best bet, but I'll keep an eye out and let you know if anything comes up." The Officer gave him a sympathetic smile. "Living with Touzoku is tough on the best of us – we've had nine people move out of his flat in the year he's been here. You're the tenth, and you've lasted the longest so far – people don't usually make it a month. You're into your third."

"Second," Marik corrected with a frown, "It isn't December yet."

"It will be tomorrow," the Officer grinned. "You are to be congratulated. I'll get you out of there as soon as I can, but until you get my letter try not to kill him, alright?"

Marik nodded distantly, missing the humour as he stood and slowly exited the office. So it had been almost three months since he first moved here, which made it approximately four since he first escaped the tomb. He had been living out in the open air for four months.

Somehow, Marik had expected these months to have been better.

Still, I can't change them now, Marik thought with a sigh as he made his way to the lift. I've just got to get out of here and make the best of whatever I can salvage afterwards. He ignored the wriggle in his gut at the thought of having to start all over again somewhere new, never having to put up with Bakura again. In fact, once Marik moved out, he would have absolutely no reason to see the pale music student anymore.

For some reason, that didn't satisfy Marik as much as he thought it would.

Soon finding himself in his flat, Marik almost groaned when he walked straight into Bakura, who was exiting the kitchen. Dark brown eyes flicked impassively over Marik's wet clothes. Marik shifted under the gaze and attempted to walk past, but Bakura, unsurprisingly, stopped him.

Marik glared.

"Where have you been?" Bakura's voice was as dark as ever, flat and emotionless as he looked impassively into Marik's eyes.

Marik hissed. "Why is that any of your business?"

Bakura's only reply was to frown slightly, making Marik even more uncomfortable. He still felt awkward about what had happened in the alley earlier, his mind whirring with questions as to why Bakura would have treated his back, which was still pain-free. Asking him would only make things more awkward, though...

Oh, what the hell.

"Why did you help me earlier?" Marik's question dropped into the air like a flung stone, thrown with just the right strength to knock Bakura back a step. The pale student's expression shifted, closing slightly as his brown eyes burned.

Bakura looked back at Marik, his features schooled into calm. "What do you mean?"

"You know full well what I mean." Marik didn't back down, pursing his lips. "You treated my back with something. I'm not an idiot. Why?"

Bakura's lips twitched. "Whether or not you're an idiot is open for debate."

"Don't be an asshole." Marik's eyes slid closed before he forced them open again, folding his arms in front of his chest. "What did you do to me?"

Bakura shrugged. "Found some cream in the cupboard. Figured it could help you."

"And you just happened to have it with you?" Marik quirked a brow. "Forgive me for not quite believing that."

Bakura smirked. "Think what you like."

Marik chewed the inside of his cheek, his brows creasing. Bakura had actually done something nice for him; that was one for the record books. It made his gut clench even more when he thought about moving out of this flat, but he knew he had no choice – Bakura was cruel and manipulative. This was probably all part of some master plan to make Marik do his bidding. Or become his slave.

"So where were you, anyway? You're soaked," Bakura commented, his voice carefully neutral.

Marik shrugged. "Went to visit Kek. Then I had a meeting – they've found a flat for me. A single one. I'll be moving in on Monday, then I'll be out of your way for good. You should be glad about that."

Silence held through the corridor as Bakura digested this information, his expression changing from neutral to angry to downright furious. His dark gaze flashed when he turned it on Marik, advancing forwards a step. "As I said earlier, Ishtar, what makes you think I'm just going to let you walk out of here?"

"Why the hell wouldn't you?" Marik backed up easily, manoeuvring himself away from any walls as he stepped into the centre of the hall. "You've wanted me out ever since I first moved in here. Well, now you get your wish; I'm leaving on Monday, and I'm never coming back."

Bakura growled, a low, dangerous sound, as he circled Marik. "Things have changed, Ishtar. I need you here."

"The fuck you do," Marik spat, feeling anger growing in his own gut at the superiority in Bakura's tone. "You just want someone to play with, and I am fucking sick of being your slave."

"You know too much about me, Ishtar, and I am not letting you leave." Bakura pounced, giving Marik no warning before they were suddenly on the floor. A rush of air escaped Marik's chest as he landed on his back, the absence of pain once again incredible as a weight crumpled on top of him, and Bakura had him pinned once again. "You hear me, Marik? You are not leaving this flat."

Marik took a moment to catch his breath, glaring daggers up at Bakura, heat rushing through his veins at how close his dark brown eyes were as they seared into Marik. "Get the hell off me."

Bakura's only response was to press closer, pinning Marik's wrists by his head as he straddled his waist. "I am not letting you leave."

"You are not the one who decides where I go and what I do," Marik spat, bucking viciously under him. "Now let me the fuck up, before -"

Marik stopped talking when Bakura leaned down and mashed his mouth against Marik's.

This kiss was harsh, searing, and power-hungry, nothing like their first; white hair snapped in the corners of Marik's vision, Bakura's tongue prying his lips open, and Marik couldn't help but respond in like. Bakura's familiar scent was everywhere, pressed against his chest, fingers curling around his wrists and sliding Marik closer, their mouths moving in sync. Shivers rolled down Marik's now painless back and he arched up, unable to stop himself meeting Bakura, curling into the coolness of his clothed chest. Bakura released something very close to a chuckle as he pushed Marik back down...

Marik came to his senses.

He wrenched his head away from Bakura's with a snarl, scrabbling backwards as far as he could with Bakura's weight still pressing into him. Brown eyes flashed as long fingers wrapped tightly around Marik's wrists, holding him firmly in place and preventing him from getting up, despite Marik's futile attempts. Eventually he stopped struggling, instead meeting Bakura's burning gaze with calm violet eyes. "Let me up," Marik said quietly.

Bakura stayed silent, his gaze calculating as he analysed Marik's every movement.

"I said, let me up," Marik growled, refusing to allow any emotion into his tone. Slowly, torturously slowly, Bakura slid backwards until he was kneeling on the carpet. Marik instantly shot backwards, his back coming to rest against a wall as he drew his knees into his chest. The two watched each other, brown on violet, both chests moving rapidly as each waited for the other to speak. Marik's blood pounded through his veins, his heart pounding in his chest, his hands bunching the fabric of his shirt as he kneaded his fists in his lap. Bakura, in contrast, was immobile and immovable, his gaze fixated on Marik's.

Marik broke first.

"And that," he started slowly, noting Bakura's unchanging expression, "Is exactly why I have to get out of here."

Bakura remained silent and stern, his features flawlessly stoical.

Marik waited another moment before climbing slowly to his feet, turning without a word and entering his own bedroom.

Monday couldn't come soon enough.

That's it for now - it actually turned into a pretty long chapter. I didn't expect it to take as many words as it did. ^_^ I am looking forward to writing Thursday's update. I have a feeling you will all like that one. XD Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem