Another update, and I'm sorry I'm a day late! I'm hoping things get clearer again here, but don't worry if things seem a little fast – all will be explained. Sorry for the lateness and the general rubbishness of this chapter, my health has decided it doesn't want me to be able to do anything anymore. Including sitting on a sofa and writing fanfictions. *Sigh.* ^_^

To the guest reviewer: Thank you for reviewing! Don't worry, Bakura's side of things will be explained and explored. It is touched on in this chapter, but there is more to come. I hope you like! XD

Well, I shall shut up now and let you read. I hope you enjoy! - Jem

The next morning Marik awoke to a silent, empty flat. It was eerily dark and quiet without Bakura's lurking presence, so Marik wasted no time in grabbing breakfast and heading straight out of the door, making for his first lecture with trepidation pooling in his gut. There was no way Marik would be able to escape Yami and Tea's inevitable questioning.

Sure enough, no sooner had Marik entered the lecture hall than he was instantly cornered by two worried gazes, one blue, the other purple. Marik looked between them and rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. Will the both of you please leave me alone?"

Yami and Tea shared a look before Tea shook her head, her blue eyes crinkled with concern. "Marik, whatever happened to you looks really serious. You should get it seen -"

"I am fine," Marik snapped through gritted teeth. This sort of questioning was precisely what he had been trying to avoid. "Do you hear me? The both of you should learn to mind your own business."

Tea looked slightly hurt and Yami looked ready to say something, but the lecturer at that moment chose to enter and so they had to take their seats. Marik was all-too-aware of their frequent questioning glances, though, as he stabbed his pencil into his notepad, creating various ferocious doodles.

The seminar later that day wasn't much better. Tea, thankfully, wasn't in their group, but Yami plagued Marik with constant stares and various scribbled notes; much against the stern student's usually strict work regime. Marik ignored both him and the tutor, instead scrawling random faces across his page, depicting expressions ranging from anger through to hate. Bakura was constantly in his head.

Why had Bakura kissed him again the night before? It made no sense to Marik's confused mind. Marik could hardly even understand Bakura's wish for him to stay in the same flat – ever since he had first moved in, Bakura had made it perfectly clear that Marik wasn't wanted. No doubt Bakura will just get fed up of having to cook and clean for himself again, Marik thought bitterly as he stabbed his pencil into the clear white page. Except, even in his head, that thought didn't ring quite true. Bakura had definitely been ... different ... recently, and Marik wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. The pale student was a confusing sadist, Marik knew that for sure. After all, Bakura manipulated each situation perfectly to his own advantage, the night Marik got drunk being a perfect example, as well as the many, many times Marik had found himself bruised after an encounter with Bakura. But then...

Then, there were all the little things Bakura would do that actually make him seem pleasant. Like playing piano for him, giving him lotion for his back that Marik was pretty sure he would have had to buy specially, although knowing Bakura it was probably stolen. Even that had been fun, though; Bakura had trusted Marik enough to take him out stealing, even though they had hardly known each other then. Marik hated how he could never seem to get Bakura off his mind, a strange tug in his chest attracting him to his unwanted flatmate whenever they were together. Of course, Bakura randomly kissing him in the hall of their shared flat was hardly helping matters.

Marik dug his pencil in further, cursing under his breath when the lead snapped. He examined the broken tip, his thoughts incessantly creeping back to Bakura, no matter how much he tried to train them in a different direction. His unwanted flatmate was just so damn contradictory. One minute he was cursing at Marik over the tiniest thing, the next he was ordering him never to leave. It didn't make any sense and Marik was too tired to try and figure it out; there were more important things he should be focusing on. Like what on earth he was going to tell Yami when he was finally cornered after this damn seminar.

Marik was right, of course. No sooner had the seminar ended than Yami turned on him, his eyes serious and demanding as they took in Marik's form. "What's going on with you? You look really tired."

Marik sighed, his eyes closing as he allowed everyone else to stand up and leave the room. He could feel Yami's gaze still trained on his face, so Marik reluctantly opened his mouth, starting to speak with a heavy sigh. "I really am alright, Yami."

"You don't look it." Yami was blunter that Marik had ever heard him before. "You look exhausted, and you can't tell me those scars on your back are nothing. What did you do?"

Marik tiredly swiped away the haze of memories that threatened to fill his skull, pushing his chair away from the desk and grabbing his bag as he made to exit the room, Yami at his heels. As they descended the stairs back to the foyer, Yami muttered quietly, "I am not letting this drop, Marik."

Marik merely sighed. He groaned, however, when they reached the entrance and spotted a familiar brown head awaiting them in the doorway, blue eyes flashing as they sought out Yami and Marik. Tea was by their side in an instant, grabbing Yami's hand as she turned on Marik. "You need to explain what's going on in your life, Marik."

"Like hell I do," Marik muttered sullenly, not really surprised when they followed him out of the building and into the grey street. Tea didn't let up as they walked, her shoes slapping on the wet pavement as she pulled in front of him and forced him to a halt.

"Marik," she started, concern floating in her blue eyes. "Look, I get that you might not want to talk about your past, but you don't look well."

Marik merely rolled his eyes.

"I'm serious! We're worried about you." At that, Tea tugged Yami closer to her side.

Marik scoffed as he met Yami's serious gaze. "You've got bigger things to worry about. Aren't your family sick?"

"That is none of your concern," Yami responded stiffly, his brow creased as he narrowed his eyes, flicking them over Marik's face. "You look exhausted. Has Bakura been bothering you?"

"Or keeping you up?" Tea almost grinned, completely missing Marik's dangerous glare. "Everyone knows you two have got a thing for each other -"

"Stop. Talking." Marik's teeth were quite clearly gritted, his hands curling into fists by his side as he stared at Tea's vacuous blue stare.

She ignored him, as ever. "I didn't really believe it until we saw you at the club – he was really protective. And Mai says she saw you leave together, and Joey was laughing about how he'd seen you kissing and it had completely freaked out this other guy on his course -"

Marik tuned her out, his jaw going slack. Someone had seen him and Bakura? Kissing? Oh, Gods, that was not going to help matters. Marik was getting out of his flat for a reason; he didn't think he could deal with constant rumours reminding him of Bakura. The thought of it sent twists of pain shooting through Marik's chest. Once he moved out, the chances were that he would never see Bakura again – they would have no reason to keep contact, sharing no classes or friends other than Kek, and Marik couldn't see Bakura visiting him. No, once Marik had left, that would be the last he knew of the pale music student. Which was what he wanted. Wasn't it?

"Marik?"

Yami's quiet voice brought him out of his thoughts and Marik sighed, passing a hand across his forehead. "I'm fine."

"So is it Bakura that's been bothering you?" Yami's gaze was narrowed and sharp, raking easily over Marik's features.

Marik shifted uncomfortably. "No. Well, at least, he won't for much longer. I'm moving out on Monday."

Both their jaws dropped, identical looks of surprise covering both of their features. It would have been comical, had Marik not been so aggravated.

Tea pulled herself together first. "Well, I guess that makes sense, if it's what you really want."

"Of course it is," Marik snapped. "Why the hell would you think it isn't? I hate him!"

A brief look of confusion flitted across Tea's face. Her blue eyes dimmed. "But at the bar -"

"He got me drunk," Marik growled, his fists clenching by his sides as he stared furiously at her. "I had no control over what I was doing."

Tea swallowed and backed off, deciding (wisely) not to say any more. Yami, however, did not drop it there. Marik raised his eyes to the heavens and resisted throwing a punch when he started to speak. "I thought you were happy there, Marik."

"Well, you thought wrong," Marik responded, his tone dripping. "The sooner I'm out of there, the better."

A strange look passed Yami's features as he turned his stern gaze on Marik. "I bet Bakura will miss you."

"Are you kidding? All he's wanted since I arrived is to get me out of there!" Marik kept the frustration evident in his tone, despite the small tendrils of doubt he could feel slithering through his skull. Those words didn't ring quite true anymore – the last couple of times Marik had seen Bakura, the music student had made it fairly clear that he wasn't happy about Marik leaving, although for the life of him Marik couldn't figure out why. He hated that insufferable bastard, and he was convinced that Bakura hated him just as much. Nothing else would make sense.

Yami was smiling at him, a small self-satisfied expression that just lifted the corners of his mouth. "You're wrong, Marik. He acts like that all the time, but the few times I've seen you together, he practically goes out of his way to make sure you're alright."

Marik actually laughed at that, peals of mirth making their jagged way past his lips. "Now I know you're joking. He spends half his time yelling at me and the other half beating me up."

"Are you honestly telling me he's never given you any reason to think he might actually like you?" Yami shook his head. "You're wrong, and I think you know it."

Marik stopped short. The truth was, Bakura had, on several occasions, surprised Marik by being surprisingly gentle. But that didn't mean anything – Bakura had always been absolutely clear that Marik was just an inconvenience, nothing more, and everything he did was to cause as little disruption to his own routine as possible.

Except...

Yesterday, Marik could have sworn Bakura went out of his way to get Marik some treatment for his back. And the night they first kissed, Bakura had actually allowed him into his room and played for him, without even Marik suggesting it himself, just to help calm him after his rush of flashbacks. Did you really do that sort of thing for someone you hate?

Gods, Bakura was confusing.

Marik shook himself out of his reverie and fixed Yami with a piercing glare. "What I do is no concern of yours; I'm moving out on Monday for my own sanity, and that's final. Now both of you get out of my way." Marik barrelled through them without another word, not paying any attention to where his feet were going, the most prevalent thought on his mind just to get out of there.

The rain was a mere dribble today, spitting occasionally out of the sky but never enough to actually make Marik uncomfortable. He wandered the streets with no real idea of where he was going, merely sure that he didn't want to spend time back in the flat again or face any more awkward questioning from Yami and Tea – he had had enough of them to last him a lifetime. Pacing aimlessly across the stone pavement, Marik pursed his lips when he realised he was entering Kek's neighbourhood. Well, paying his cousin a visit had worked as a timekiller yesterday; perhaps Kek could provide a refuge whilst Marik tried his best to avoid Bakura.

Who was he kidding? Kek would just tease him and make things a million times worse.

Still, company was better than wandering the streets on his own. Marik heaved a sigh, allowing his feet to tread the increasingly familiar path to Kek's luxurious flat, pressing the buzzer as soon as he got there. It was answered after a few minutes, Kek's threatening tones growling out, "If you're another fucking salesman I am going to rip your throat out, tear it into shreds and then eat it. Slowly."

Marik couldn't hold back a chuckle, despite the anger he still felt pooling in his gut. "Still so violent, Kek."

"Twice in one week, Marik. I'm impressed. I'll come and let you in." The buzzer clicked and the door was soon flung open, revealing a tall broad-shouldered Egyptian with familiar spiky hair. Kek grinned. "At least you don't look like a drowned rat this time."

Marik swatted him playfully as he stepped inside, following Kek into his flat. It was messier this time, papers and boxes carelessly tossed around the hall and the kitchen as Marik took a seat at the table, stretching and glancing around with a raised eyebrow. "What are you doing, planning a bank robbery?"

"Train robbery, actually," Kek said perfectly seriously, his face deadpan as he turned to his cousin. "I've got to go out and get a couple of knives actually, I couldn't smuggle them over from Egypt. You can come with me, if you want."

Marik shrugged. "Eh, I've got nothing better to do. Just don't do anything illegal. Or dangerous."

Kek merely leered at him.

They headed out of the flat, walking quickly through the rain towards the centre of the city, Kek a tall leering shadow by his slightly smaller cousin's side. The shops were busy, teeming with people even this late in the day. Kek soon led them to a more run-down side of town, though, where the crowds were far fewer and the people more menacing; Marik instinctively drew closer to his cousin's side.

Kek laughed at him. "We are going to buy knives. What did you expect?"

"Just hurry up so we can get out of here," Marik muttered by way of response, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso. Kek grinned but obediently quickened his steps.

Marik decided to wait outside the shop whilst Kek was inspecting the weapons, lounging against the wall and doing his level best to look nonchalant. This side of the city was definitely not as well-looked-after as the main shopping streets; the corners were deeply shadowed, the rain dribbling hazily through the air and setting a dull, grey mist over the hidden shops. Marik leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, attempting to empty his mind. He still wasn't sleeping well; the knowledge that Bakura was in the next room always seemed to stress him. Marik needed to get out of there as soon as he could.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite Ishtar."

Marik cursed under his breath. Why was it that everywhere, everywhere he went, the chilling dark voice always seemed to follow him? Could he not get even five minutes away from that insufferable bastard?

"We're in a practically deserted street, Marik. You can't ignore me out here, as much as I'm sure you'd love to."

Marik winced at the venom lacing the familiar dangerous voice, crossing his arms over his chest as he reluctantly opened his eyes. Sure enough, white hair met his vision. Bakura was standing no more than three feet away, his feet planted firmly on the cold stone pavement and his chin tilted in the arrogant manner he always wore, his long black coat flaring around him as he stared straight at Marik.

"I should have known you'd show up," Marik groaned, massaging his temples. "I shouldn't hang out with Kek if you're just going to follow him."

A snort ripped between Bakura's lips as a corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk. "Perhaps you should go play with your new best friends instead. I'm sure Yami would just love to hear all about your problems"

"You dare say anything to them about me and I will kill you," Marik hissed, instantly bristling. Bakura just laughed at him, his hands dropping into his pockets as he shifted his weight. Marik glared at him before leaning back against the wall, releasing a resigned sigh. "What do you want?"

"I can't come and talk to my flatmate without being questioned?" Bakura arched an eyebrow, his lips twisting into a sneer.

Marik's eyes closed again. "I told you, I'll be out of the flat on Monday. Then we can both get on with our lives. Separately."

Bakura's eyes flashed, something Marik missed, and a myriad of expressions crossed his usually calm pale features. White fists clenched inside the sleeves of a black coat, but before Bakura could speak again a tall leering shadow stalked out of the shop, new possessions tucked safely inside the pockets of a cloak. Kek's grin widened when he looked between Marik and Bakura. "Aw. Having another lovers' tiff?"

The effect was instantaneous on both students; Marik's eyes flew open and he bounced away from the wall to fix Kek with a furious glare, whilst Bakura visibly paled, his nails digging into his palms as he released a low poisonous hiss. Kek merely laughed at them. "Gods, you two are so sensitive about this."

"Let's just get the fuck out of here," Marik growled, stalking away down the street without a second glance. Kek was about to follow him when a pale hand snaked forwards and caught his arm, grip surprisingly strong. Kek turned, not really surprised at Bakura's question.

"He's really leaving, isn't he?"

Kek shrugged, the grin dropping from his face momentarily as he took in Bakura's burning gaze. "He thinks he is. He's an idiot – he's never been able to see what's right in front of his face."

Bakura folded his arms, his brows furrowing before his lips stretched into a sly smirk. "Well, I might just have to change that. He isn't going anywhere."

"You can go ahead and try!" Kek shook his head. "You're both hopeless. It's very entertaining."

Bakura merely winked before turning and starting back down the street, the opposite way to where Marik had disappeared. Kek looked after him for a moment, releasing a low chuckle. He started after his cousin with a small smile playing about his mouth.

...

Marik spent the rest of the weekend as far away from his flat as he could; or to be more precise, as far away from Bakura as he could get. Unfortunately, that meant spending time with Kek was also out, as the two of them were involved in some scheme of Kaiba's that Marik thought it generally safer to stay well away from. Left without many options, Marik begrudgingly joined Yami when he invited him on a shopping trip with Tea, Joey and Mai, along with another guy called Tristan that Marik hadn't met yet. As a result, Marik spent most of the weekend gritting his teeth.

Yami noticed his discomfort and took him aside from the group a little way, leaning against the wall of a shop whilst they waited for Tea to try on some new dresses. Marik sighed when he saw the questioning look in Yami's eyes. "Whatever you want to say, just spit it out."

"As long as you don't snap my head off this time." Yami's expression remained serious as he continued. "Are you serious about moving out?"

Marik rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to say it before you people believe me? Yes, I really mean it. I am moving in to my new place on Monday."

"Well, in that case, I'd like to help you." Yami nodded. "What time are you thinking of leaving?"

Marik frowned, folding his arms. He didn't really want anyone to help him move – it wasn't as if he had much stuff – but the determined look in Yami's eyes spoke volumes. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have someone else there, Marik mused. Especially if Bakura starts causing trouble. "Alright, sure," Marik shrugged. "I want to move out first thing Monday morning – I am not staying there any longer than I have to."

"We've got lectures first thing," Yami pointed out gently. "I can come with you in the evening though, help you move then?"

Marik grimaced. "No, I want out straight away. I'll move on my own, I don't mind skipping the lecture."

"It will take a long time by yourself," Yami disagreed, pursing his lips. His purple eyes glazed over in thought as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight. "Tell you what, if you're so desperate to move so soon, come and sleep on my floor Sunday night and I'll help you move in to your new place after the lecture. That way, you won't have to see Bakura after this weekend if you don't want to. What do you think?"

Marik thought it over, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Yami had a point – that way, he would be out of Bakura's way much earlier. Marik didn't really care about going to the lectures, but it gave him a faster way out, and that was something Marik was certainly interested in. He even managed a genuine smile when he looked at Yami. "Yes, let's do that."

"Great!" Yami smiled back. "Come over Sunday evening, whenever you want to, I'll be in. I hope you won't mind one night on the floor..."

Marik shrugged. "I'll be fine."

Yami sent him one final smile just as Tea reappeared from the dressing rooms. Marik tuned them out again, his thoughts going to Sunday evening – so soon, and he would finally be rid of Bakura. Marik's gut twisted at that thought, but he put it down to anticipation. Living in a flat on his own had been his goal ever since he first left Egypt, so to finally be achieving it should make Marik very happy; he could finally be truly independent and live life his own way, with no regard to what anyone else wanted.

Still, with the fake smile Marik plastered on his face as he left the shop with the vacuous group of people he now called his 'friends', Marik couldn't help but feel he was still missing something.

...

Notepad, pencils, sharpener, colours.

Clothes, shoes, jacket.

Raincoat.

Gloves, scarf, hat.

Jewellery, knife.

Laptop, alarm clock, timetable, pens.

Was that really everything?

Marik looked at his one small suitcase, scouring all his worldly belongings with something close to sadness pooling in his gut. He had never had much to call his own, but this seemed even worse than it had when he first arrived; he didn't even have any of his own kitchen stuff, having just borrowed Bakura's up until now. Thinking of the music student only sent sharp stabs of pain through Marik's gut, though, so he quickly shut down that train of thought, snapping the suitcase shut with a sudden flare of anger. He was doing the right thing! Yami would be waiting for him in his own flat and the sooner Marik was out of here, the better for all involved. The flat was silent, signalling that Bakura was out, so there was absolutely nothing stopping Marik from just standing up and walking out of here, for good. Still, he couldn't resist one last wander around his room, brushing his fingers gently over the cheap wood of the desk. This was the first room that had been truly his, after all – he was bound to feel a little nostalgic.

Casting one final glance around his bare room, Marik scooped up his suitcase and left, locking it behind him for the last time. He looked around the small hall, wincing at the remembered pain of being slammed against the wall by Bakura on so many different occasions ... but thinking about his unwanted flatmate caused another sharp twist, so he blocked the memories again. As he stepped towards the door, however, Marik couldn't help but pause outside Bakura's room. The door was ever-so-slightly ajar, as it had been the first time Marik sneaked into it, but that had only resulted in Bakura chucking Marik out into the corridor with a few added bruises to remember him by. But that was before Bakura had known about Marik's scars...

Hell, one last look couldn't hurt.

The suitcase was dropped in the hall as Marik pushed the door open, a quick flick of violet eyes showing him that the room really was empty, Bakura's intoxicating presence nowhere to be found. Marik edged further into the darkened room, his eyes picking out the shape of the desk, bed and piano – he skimmed over the bed, memories of the morning he had woken up there rising in his head. He wrinkled his nose a little as one tanned hand slowly caressed the sheets. His night spent between them had been far from bad, although he admitted with a small, wry smile that his memory of that night probably wasn't too perfect.

Turning away from the bed, Marik crossed the room to the desk, stepping around the mess of clothes that littered Bakura's floor. His desk wasn't much tidier, littered with papers and music and random bits of jewellery, the occasional glint of real gold shimmering through the mess. Marik shook his head; the police would have a field day if they ever got to search this room. Bakura was too arrogant for his own good.

Absentmindedly turning over some of the papers, Marik went still when a flash of dull colour slipped through his fingers. It was a photograph. Marik frowned down at it, not recognising the girl it depicted – she had pale skin and light blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, her brown eyes smiling at something just to the right of the camera. She was very pretty. Laying the photo down carefully, Marik glanced once more around the empty, shadowy room, his gaze coming to rest on the proud piano tucked away in one corner. He was beside it in seconds, his fingers stroking the brown wood of its top as he stared hungrily down at the black and white keys. The stool looked soft and inviting, situated perfectly in position, and Marik was seated before he remembered moving. His dark hands hovered uncertainly over the keys, remembering the perfectly natural way Bakura's slender fingers picked out endless melodies. Envy rose once more in Marik's gut.

Still, Bakura had showed him something, the time he promised to teach him how to play. If Marik could just remember where his fingers were supposed to go ... He hit the keys a few times, disappointed at the crash of dissonance that rang angrily through the room. Why couldn't he make it sound as beautiful as Bakura did? What the hell did that pale idiot have that Marik didn't? Tanned hands pressed into the keys again, searching for the right melody, wincing at the ugly sounds that sprang from his fingers. Marik almost wanted to scream in frustration.

"...Are you quite done with destroying my piano?"

Marik hissed, his head snapping around to meet a familiar brown gaze. Bakura rested lazily in the doorway, his arms folded as he leaned against the frame, regarding Marik with a painfully familiar smirk on his face. Marik glared right back at him, remaining in his seat. "I was trying to remember."

"And failing, clearly." Bakura rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "I certainly never taught you anything as horrendous at that."

Marik's back bristled. He stood up furiously from the piano, stalking away from the stool and keeping a wary distance from Bakura. "Good thing I'm leaving, then. You won't have to put up with me for much longer."

Something flashed across Bakura's eyes. "I thought you were going tomorrow."

"Change of plan." Marik kept his tone carefully neutral, dropping his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look into Bakura' burning gaze any longer. "I'm staying at Yami's tonight. He's helping me move after lectures tomorrow."

There was a distinct silence, during which Marik shuffled his feet uncomfortably, until Bakura spoke again. There was an underlay of anger in his tone. "Of all the people in the world, why the hell would you stay with Yami?"

Marik exploded. "Oh, of course, that's the only thing you decide to comment on! Why the fuck wouldn't I? I don't know what the hell your problem is with him, but Yami is one of the few people in this damned country who actually talks to me like a human being."

"He's a bastard," Bakura hissed, his fists clenching as he met Marik's furious glare.

Marik had to hold back a snort of laughter. "Coming from you, Bakura, that is really rich."

"Why?" Bakura growled, advancing a step and allowing the door to snap shut behind him. "Why do you hate me so much, Marik?"

Marik was brought up short by that question, his wide violet eyes momentarily showing his surprise. "I – well – because you are! You're a malicious, vindictive, cruel, insufferable bastard. What's not to hate?"

"Brat," Bakura snarled, taking two steps closer; Marik skittered back nervously, cursing himself for getting trapped in Bakura's room. The other student clearly had the upper hand. Bakura's eyes narrowed as he raked them over Marik's form, hissing, "I've done nothing to you. Hell, I've fucking helped you more than anyone else here!"

"You call taking advantage nothing!" Marik snapped, fury making him shout the words in the small, stuffy air of the room. "You call making me your fucking slave -"

"I never did anything you didn't want!" Bakura roared, his hands grabbing onto Marik's shoulders, fingers digging in to his exposed skin. "You can't deny that, Ishtar, so you can fucking stop saying I took advantage."

Marik froze under Bakura's touch, his eyes going wide. Bakura had a point, after all; Marik had always been the one to initiate anything between them, when he was sober as well as drunk. Bakura had always just been there, whenever Marik could feel himself sliding out of control or falling into the flashbacks of his past. Bakura had always helped him. In fact, he was the only person Marik trusted enough to tell his story too, although Gods know why he had done, really. The favour had never been returned.

Marik glared back at Bakura, his hands clenching into fists by his side. "Get the fuck off me, bastard. You made it perfectly clear from the second I walked in here that you didn't want me around – now I finally am leaving, and you go completely crazy! You don't make any sense."

An inhuman growl ripped between Bakura's lips as he shoved Marik back, paying no mind to his wince when his back hit a wall once more. "Yes, I wanted you to leave, Ishtar. You just came waltzing in here like you fucking owned the place, you showed me no respect -"

"Respect?" Marik was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with rapid movements. "Why the hell do you deserve any? You made me feel so unwelcome -"

"Because you fucking were!" Bakura was completely irate by now. "You just took over my flat, like you had any fucking right to invade my space, and you completely refused to leave me alone no matter how much I warned you off. And then you had to go and have a fucking breakdown and I realised what your past was, and you actually made me feel sorry for you!" Bakura lifted Marik away only to slam him back into the wall, his burning gaze inches from Marik's face as he held him firmly in place. Marik stared back, nonplussed – this was not a side to Bakura he had seen before. He couldn't unravel all the emotions in Bakura's features.

"I warned you to leave," Bakura growled, his teeth inches from Marik's throat. "I warned you, but you, Marik motherfucking Ishtar, are too Goddamn stubborn for that. You kept getting in my way and breaking down in front of me; what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn't have you falling apart. But then you go and flip over every tiny thing, overreacting like you always do, to the point that now you're actually doing as I said in the first place and leaving, when I no longer even fucking want you to!"

Marik was dumbfounded. He blinked at Bakura, his mouth slightly open, sagging against the wall for support. His wind was racing. "You – you don't want me to go?"

"Fuck no!" Bakura slammed him against the wall again, his mouth far too close to Marik's as he hissed, "Why the fuck would you even think that?"

"But I – you – " Marik was lost for words as he gazed in shock at Bakura. This didn't make any sense. "You hate me!"

"Fucking hell, how dense are you?" Bakura barely had to lean forwards as he pressed his lips to Marik's, moving aggressively against him despite the lack of response. It only lasted a second before Bakura was speaking again, leaving Marik slack-jawed and in shock. "You fucking idiot, Ishtar."

Marik just stared, his mind stumbling and tripping to attempt to catch up with whatever Bakura was trying to tell him. Did this mean – did Bakura not hate him at all? Did Bakura actually like him? Why would he – why would he even - ?

What?!

Bakura growled at Marik's lack of response, leaning back imperceptibly. It was enough to pull Marik out of his daze, though. Brown fingers curled around black-sleeved arms, pulling Bakura's attention back onto him. Marik was still in shock, but he had enough of his wits about him to form a coherent sentence – at least, he hoped he did. "You have a really fucking strange way of showing that you like someone."

"I don't like you, Ishtar," Bakura growled, but he stopped talking at Marik's flashing eyes.

The fingers on Bakura's arms tightened as Marik leaned away from the wall, pulling the pale student towards him and joining their lips in a heated, desperate kiss.

At first, Bakura was too stunned to move. Marik was demanding, his hands sliding up Bakura's arms to tangle in his hair, tilting his head to get the best angle to attack him. Bakura stumbled back a step, his eyes going wide. Marik quickly took advantage, latching his arms around Bakura's neck as he pushed away from the wall, prying his mouth open and brushing their tongues together.

Bakura's senses finally returned.

He slammed back into Marik, kissing him deeply as he slid his arms around his waist, catching Marik's hips and crushing them against his own. Marik couldn't hold back a moan, bucking against Bakura as he tangled his fingers in white hair. Bakura span them around, Marik's back connecting with the wall again, and he found himself relishing the strength in Bakura's arms as he held them close together, never breaking the kiss. Marik couldn't hold back a low, "Mmm," when Bakura's hands wound their way under his shirt, grazing the silky skin of his stomach.

Bakura grinned against his lips. "You're so fucking clueless, you know that?"

"Stop talking," Marik growled, bucking against him impatiently and tightening his stranglehold around Bakura's neck. "And you didn't exactly make it obvious."

"You're just stupidly unobservant," Bakura chuckled, swallowing Marik's protest with another deep kiss.

"Mmm..." Marik couldn't resist moving closer, his fingers gliding down Bakura's chest and inside his black jacket, tracing the lines of muscle he knew were waiting under the fabric. Bakura growled, his fingers tugging at the hem of Marik's shirt before he pulled away just a little. Marik met his gaze with a frown. "What?"

"Just..." Bakura tilted his head, his brown gaze searing. "This means you're not leaving, right?"

Marik couldn't hold back a smirk as he wound his fingers around Bakura's waist. "Are you that desperate?"

"You're a fucking brat," Bakura hissed.

Marik just laughed at him. "Well, if ... if what you were saying earlier means what I think it means, then yes, I will stay."

"But you -" Bakura stopped, gliding further out of Marik's reach as he met his gaze.

Marik frowned, annoyed at the loss of contact. "I what?"

"You ... hate me." Bakura kept his tone carefully neutral, his eyes boring into Marik's. "Every time you initiated something – kissing me, fucking me, whatever – you ran away and acted like it never happened. You hate me. So what the hell is this, now?"

Marik was brought up short. He frowned, thinking it over, chewing his swollen bottom lip before glancing back at Bakura. "I don't hate you. I thought you hated me. I thought you'd kill me if I tried anything. That's why I wanted to leave – you have always made it perfectly clear that I am not wanted around here."

"That hasn't been true for a while," Bakura interrupted, his expression unreadable. Marik almost wanted to call it gentle.

Marik took a step away from the wall, edging closer to Bakura before wrapping a hand around his, meeting his gaze hesitantly. "So – what, you like me?"

"I..." Bakura blinked, frown instantly covering his features again. "Goddammit, Marik, you are not getting a fucking confession out of me."

Marik laughed, sliding another step closer, both arms winding around Bakura's waist. "If you want me to stick around, you're going to have to."

"Fucking brat," Bakura hissed.

Marik's violet eyes were dancing. "Insulting me is not the best way to get back in my good books."

Bakura rolled his eyes, his hands coming to rest on Marik's shoulders as he tugged him nearer. "I fucking hate you."

"Love you, too," Marik grinned before joining his lips with Bakura's.

It ends fairly abruptly, I know, but I didn't feel up to writing another lemon, so... ^_^ The first half of this was written yesterday when I was feeling very unwell, and as a result I think the second half (written this morning) is of better quality, which makes the whole chapter feel really bitty and uneven to me. Sorry about that. *Sigh*. Anyway, next week's updates will hopefully both be on time, all being well. Thank you for reading! - Jem