I'm late, I'm so sorry, but it's here now. Stupid health. DX

I'm just going to go ahead and give you all a bit of a heads up here – there is a high chance that my updates will be late again next week, for which I profusely apologise. My health is doing strange things for no apparent reason, so I cannot predict when/if I'll be able to write, which is just a load of fun. XD Thank you so much to everyone who is sticking with me and reading and reviewing this, I have to say that you guys are fantastic and never fail to keep me motivated. So, I will write when I can and I'll still aim to update every Tuesday and Thursday, but if I am late, don't be too surprised. I'm sorry. ^_^

To guest reviewer Ibbnu: Aw, thank you so much! I'm flattered. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long!

Anyway. I hope you enjoy this update! - Jem

The rest of the winter holidays passed in relative peace and quiet, save for one day.

Neither Marik nor Bakura were very interested in celebrating Christmas; for Marik, the holiday held no significance, and Bakura had never had anyone to celebrate it with – at least, not for most of his life. Therefore, the time free from university was spent mostly in just enjoying each other's company. Except for one day.

Marik could feel it approaching as the days rolled by, each second ticking with awful finality towards the anniversary of the act he least wanted to remember. His scars burned at just the thought. Bakura would notice the change in him, often watching with narrowed brown eyes and an impassive pale face, features furrowed in unfamiliar concern whenever Marik would snap or fall uncharacteristically silent. It wasn't until the morning of that day, however, that Bakura fully understood.

Marik was dreaming again, and he was locked in the tomb. His room was fastened firmly shut, the darkness pressing heavily on his eyelids, the torch long since burned out. Silence settled like a thick blanket, weighing down Marik's every movement as he curled in a corner, rocking with the waiting, scared out of his wits. He had not seen his family in three days – all part of the purification – but now he was cold, hungry, alone, and afraid.

He longed to be touched. By anyone – brother, sister, even father at this point. He just wanted something substantial, something to remind him that he wasn't merely a forgotten shadow in the never-ending darkness, lost and alone, a floating spectre. Marik craved touch above all else.

But no one came. The darkness stretched on, the silence roaring and blinding and terrifying, the endless fear of what was coming, the craving not to be alone. But when the people did come it only brought fire and burning and bonds and pain, flesh tearing, blood flowing freely as the shadows leapt on the wall.

Marik was tired of this nightmare. It was always the same. He woke quietly this time, dragged out of the remembered darkness like an anchor out of deep water; the surface came closer at a slow, sluggish rate. Marik woke to just the touch he had once craved so badly; a white arm flung securely over his chest, white hair strewn haphazardly across the pillow, stern features loosened and relaxed in sleep. Marik rolled slightly, just watching him for a moment, allowing his hazy mind to remember that he was here, in England. The date might be the same, but nothing else was.

With a low sigh, Marik twisted his body onto Bakura's, falling gently across his chest in a tangle of blond and brown. He clutched tightly onto the rise and fall of Bakura's breathing, slow and steady with sleep, the faint sounds of his heartbeat, the way his hair rustled against the pillow with each movement. Marik curled up, safe in the warmth, and drifted once more into a comfortable sleep.

Sunlight just barely managed to filter through Bakura's dark curtains, appearing in narrow cracks and spots, dust dancing through the visible air in the none-too-clean room. Bakura awoke to a warm weight nestled firmly on his chest, a blond mess of tangles splaying across his pale skin and tanned arms curled insistently around his torso. Bakura sighed loudly. Wriggling slightly and freeing one pale arm, Bakura deliberately poked Marik's side, giving him a light shove. "Oi, wake up. I need to use the bathroom."

Predictably, there was no response from the mess on Bakura's chest.

Bakura rolled his eyes, poking again and attempting to sit up. "Come on, Ishtar. Shift."

A small muffled mewl sounded through Marik's lips and he pressed himself closer, digging his face into the crook of Bakura's neck as his arms tightened around Bakura's chest.

Bakura frowned. "Are you awake?" When he still got no response, Bakura used his free hand to brush back some of the blond tangled strands, revealing slightly flushed tanned skin. Violet eyes were firmly closed as Marik shifted closer, steadfastly refusing to allow Bakura to move.

Bakura growled. "I mean it, Ishtar. Move." Placing both his hands on Marik's shoulders, Bakura attempted to lift them both up, despite Marik's increased sounds of displeasure. When he finally manoeuvred them successfully into a sitting position, Bakura firmly tipped Marik's head back and forced him to meet his gaze, giving him a quick shake. "I know you're normally sleepy, but this is ridiculous. Let go of me."

Violet eyes opened reluctantly and Marik blinked, speaking without his usual venom. "You're the one who needs to let go of me, Bakura."

"Well, I would, if I didn't think you were going to collapse on me the moment I did." Bakura's lips twitched upwards slightly. "Happy birthday."

Marik's eyes slid closed and he groaned, falling forwards and crashing his face back into Bakura's chest. Bakura's mouth curled into a smirk, but his arms still found their way around Marik's back, drawing him nearer and resting his chin in Marik's blond hair. Marik clambered clumsily over Bakura's legs, moving as close to the pale student as he possibly could, eliciting a darkly amused chuckle from Bakura. Brown eyes glittered. "Much as I like it when you sit on me, I really do need to use the bathroom."

Marik mumbled something incoherent and didn't move.

Bakura scoffed, bodily picking Marik up and dropping him unceremoniously on the sheets next to him. Marik yelped a bit, sending Bakura a glare; he merely smirked back and stretched, heading for the door and leaving without a backwards glance. Marik instantly missed his presence.

With a low sigh, Marik fell back against the pillows, the sheets tangling around his slender form. He was clad only in a pair of boxers, the scars on his back open to the freezing air as he rolled onto his front, eyes sliding closed again. Marik welcomed it on a day like today, though; the goosebumps spreading across his flesh were another reminder of how real the present was, as opposed to the nightmares of his past. Stretching luxuriously in the space of the bed, Marik pressed his forehead into the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. He was determined not to make this day a depressing one; he would not freak out, and he would not take it out on Bakura. He was hoping that the pale student had some form of contingency plan to keep him distracted. The last thing Marik needed was to spend this day locked in his past.

"Sleeping again, Ishtar?" A dark tut sounded through the room, followed by a chuckle. Bakura stood framed in the doorway, clothed in a blue jumper and jeans, looking more casual than Marik had ever seen him before.

Marik groaned in response, turning his head just enough to crack open one eye, meeting Bakura's gaze through the fading shadows. "You kept me up half the night. I'm allowed to be tired."

"I heard no complaints." Nevertheless, Bakura closed the distance between them easily enough, perching on the end of the bed by Marik's feet. On pale arm curved through the darkness to push back Marik's matted tangles of hair, resting almost tenderly against his brown skin, turned almost black in the darkness. Marik's eyes closed again and he relaxed imperceptibly.

Bakura continued to brush cold fingers against his skin until Marik was mostly calm. One violet eye seared through the darkness again. "You're freezing. Get off me."

"It's cold out here," Bakura shrugged with a grin. "What can I say."

"You could get back in here instead." Marik yawned widely and stretched, pointedly pulling the covers back up over himself.

A wicked smirk decorated Bakura's features and he edged closer, leaning right over Marik and placing his lips on his jaw. "Well," he all but purred. "I could..."

Marik looked at him through sleepy violet eyes, reaching up to wrap his arms around Bakura's neck, pulling him into a kiss. Bakura only responded for about half a second before pulling back and sliding back off the bed, standing with a stretch. He tossed a wink to Marik. "Or I could just get on with more important matters."

"Are you calling me unimportant?" Marik huffed a little.

Bakura chuckled, the sound low and comforting in the darkness of the room. "No, Ishtar, I'm telling you to get your lazy ass out of bed."

Marik grumbled but sat up begrudgingly, stretching with a yawn. Bakura smiled a little, reaching over to ruffle Marik's mess of golden tangles before he stepped fluidly across the room and pulled open the door, beckoning. "Come on. I'm hungry."

"One of these days, you're going to have to learn to cook for yourself," Marik grumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and yawning again. His back prickled a little, but it wasn't unbearable, and although shadows still flickered at the edge of his vision one look at Bakura was enough to keep Marik anchored in the present. The room he currently occupied was far removed from the tomb he grew up in, after all; it should be easy enough to keep the memories at bay.

Still, Marik stood up hesitantly, all too aware of how heightened his awareness of his scars usually was on this date. He was right to be wary; they burned afresh with every movement, causing a slight wince to cross his face. Bakura, of course, noticed.

Closing the distance in three short strides, Bakura's arms found their way around Marik's shoulders, bringing him firmly into his chest even as long white fingers searched his back, tracing the familiar patterns and bringing cooling comfort with them. Marik tilted his head up, eyes widening slightly at the gentleness in Bakura's movements. Bakura met his gaze with an unreadable expression, wordlessly tightening his grip, the soft material of his jumper soothing Marik's freezing skin as he encircled him securely in his arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I -" Marik cut himself off with a low groan, allowing eyes to slide closed and his head to drop forwards, his forehead finding purchase on Bakura's shoulder.

Bakura pulled him imperceptibly closer. "If you want to, you can."

Marik's hands clutched at the front of Bakura's jumper as fingers continued to lightly trace his scars, cooling and soothing with each motion. The words were there, in the shadows in the corners of his eyes, so Marik began to speak.

"I was ten," he started in a low monotone. "I was shut in my room for three days leading up to my birthday. I had one torch, one bowl of water, and three meals to last that time. After the three days, they opened my bedroom door and the light practically blinded me, so I didn't see the guards when they picked me up. I saw my father though, and the knife." Marik's brow creased, his mouth snapping shut.

Bakura rested his chin gently in Marik's hair. "How did they do it?"

"They tied me to a table." Marik's voice was still a monotone. "Hands and feet. My dad put the knife in a hot flame and ... well ... I'm sure you can imagine the rest." Marik tilted his head up again, meeting Bakura's gaze with a small frown. "You must know about heat and pain, if you were there in the fire that killed your parents.

Bakura hesitated but nodded slowly, continuing to caress Marik's scars. His tone was low, without its characteristic dark amusement when he spoke. Marik almost wanted to call it chilling. "It wasn't just my parents."

"What?" Marik looked at him with slightly widened violet eyes, but Bakura's expression was as impassive as ever. The only change was a slight tightening in the skin around his eyes.

Bakura pulled Marik back towards him, laying Marik's head on his shoulder and resting his chin in Marik's hair. He spoke softly. "I had a sister."

"Sister?" Marik instinctively wound his arms around Bakura's waist, holding him much as he was being held. A flicker of a memory slipped through the back of his skull. "Wait, yes – there was a photo of a girl on your desk. Is that her?"

Bakura growled a little. "When were you looking through my things?"

"It was the day I was leaving, before you got back," Marik remembered, brow creasing slightly. "I was just looking around in here. I thought it would be the last time I was near you, anyway, so even if you found me there wasn't much you could do to me."

"Except make you stay." Bakura chuckled lowly, fingers shifting down to dance along Marik's sides, eliciting a small wriggle from Marik. "But yes, that is Amane."

"Your sister." Marik closed his eyes, lifting his hands to gently wind around Bakura's neck. He leaned against him with a sigh. "But you and your brother survived? How?"

"I ... I got us out." Bakura closed his eyes, the smell of smoke and flames burning his nostrils as half-remembered screams filled his ears, wood creaking as it collapsed around them. Gold and orange flickered in his vision, mixing with Marik's hair.

Marik straightened in Bakura's grasp, meeting his eyes dead-on as he threaded fingers through white hair. Bakura seemed faraway, though, only slightly responding to Marik's touches, the hands at his sides dropping a bit. Marik pulled him closer. "How did you manage that?"

"I was eight." Bakura's voice was still unnaturally soft, laced with an edge unfamiliar to Marik. "But Ryou was only five, he couldn't get out on his own. Amane was ten, she should have been able to get herself out, and mum said she would help the others if I got Ryou..."

"Go, Bakura, get your brother!"

"But what about you?" Brown eyes stared in horror at his mother. She leaned down to him, one soft hand brushing his cheek, searingly hot with the heat of the fire.

"We'll be fine," she breathed, a hysterical tinge to her voice. "But you've got to find Ryou for me, ok? Then get down the stairs and out of the house."

Brown eyes blinked, a quick head jerk of a nod, and she was gone.

Bakura turned, the smoke streaming through his eyes as he battled his way through flames and debris, tracing the once-familiar path down the landing to Ryou's room. The door had crumbled and cracked, hanging half off its hinges in the spitting flames and hazy, smoke-filled air. Bakura kept fighting, though, his brow furrowing as he battled his way past the wood, entering the blackened, twisted horror of his brother's room. "Ryou?"

"Bakura!" Hands fell around his waist, a head buried in his stomach as his small brother clung to him. Bakura turned swiftly, tugging one of Ryou's hands free and pulling, dragging him out of the room.

Ryou stumbled along, clutching tightly to Bakura's hand, his eyes streaming in the heat and smoke. "What's going on? Where's mummy?"

"She'll be here soon." Bakura stopped, coughing.

Ryou gazed up at him with frightened brown eyes, his nostrils flaring in the heat. Bakura met his eyes and tugged, speaking around the soreness in his throat. "Don't just stand there, let's go!"

The two boys rushed to the head of the stairs, the creaking of the house filling their ears and acrid smoke coating their lungs. Ryou faltered when he looked down and saw the blackened crisp of the banister, the torn holes in the carpet that still singed orange at the edges. Most frightening of all, the flames themselves that still leaped up the walls, climbing their hungry way up to the ceiling.

Ryou clung tighter onto Bakura's side.

Bakura looked down at him, brown eyes creasing in worry, before he squared his shoulders and started forwards. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

They started down the stairs, the steps creaking worryingly loudly under their weight. The whole structure shifted and Ryou squealed, burying his head in Bakura's waist, grabbing onto his hips and sobbing with fright. Bakura determinedly carried on, physically dragging Ryou behind him, ignoring the ever increasing groans and growls of the house as it slowly caved in on itself, bricks and mortar crumbling. Bakura tripped the last few steps, sending them both sprawling across the too-hot floor, the air sizzling around them as the flames leaped higher.

"NO!"

Eyes streaming, hands flailing, confused dust leaping in the air. Scrabbling upright, grabbing a hand, running, pulling, tugging. The door had to be here somewhere...

"BAKURA!"

"Ryou, I've got you, don't worry -"

Choking smoke, hacking coughs, gasps for breath in a searing chest.

"No, where – AH!"

"Nearly – door – come on – !"

A burning handle.

Pushing.

Sunlight. Air.

Breathe. Gasp. Pain.

A hand in his.

A dirt-streaked pale face, wide staring eyes, horror-filled mouth.

"Ryou!"

Bakura pulled him close, hugging him more tightly than he'd ever hugged anyone before, feeling desperate arms cling to his waist, wet tears run down his burning chest. The two boys held each other and cried, the fresh summer air such a contrast to the horror of their home, the terror as their world collapsed.

An ominous creak.

Bakura's head shot up and he turned, gaze going blank.

Flames were still eating the house. It stood out against the clear blue sky, a bright orange blot sending tendrils of smoky blackness swirling into the air, blurring the lines of the horizon. As Bakura watched with fear wrapping icy cold hands around his heart, the roof started to crumble at the edges, sagging down as the building gave a long groan. Ryou followed his brother's gaze and shrieked, his eyes going wide before he buried his head back into his brother's chest, eyes squeezing shut. Bakura was frozen, watching as the house folded in on itself, the roof tumbling down to crash into the first floor, sending the crumbling structure tumbling down to the ground with a resounding crash. It echoed with an awful finality. The walls crumbled, the rafters creaking, the whole structure becoming a mess of twisted, burned crisps and waifs collapsed on the floor.

Bakura released Ryou and stepped forwards, his eyes desperately searching, gaze flicking left and right around the broken shell of the house. "Mum?"

He took a small step forward, ignoring Ryou's shaking shoulders. "Dad?"

He drew in a painful breath. "Amane?"

Silence.

Bakura stepped forwards again but there was a shout from behind him. Crowds from their town had appeared, people calling and babbling, desperate to help. Ryou was engulfed in unfamiliar arms but Bakura ignored them all, gaze still intent on the broken house. He took another step.

Bakura couldn't see them.

The house was a blackened and twisted carcass, staining the earth with black and brown, leaking onto the concrete. But it was empty. It wasn't supposed to be empty.

Bakura fell to his knees, nails digging into the path beneath him, fingers still blackened and smeared with smoke and debris. His lungs burned as he drew in another breath, hot tears coiling down his face. "Where are you? Mum?"

She had promised they'd be alright. She'd be here somewhere.

Deep in his heart of hearts, Bakura knew they were gone. He felt emptied, as if half of him had been ripped away and tossed amongst the flames with the rest of his family. They were gone.

Gone.

Bakura howled and lifted his head to the sky, tears streaming down his cheeks.

When he turned back to the crowd, the first face he saw was Yami's.

Bakura's hands balled into furious fists by his sides.

"At least you got Ryou out."

Bakura blinked, his gaze zeroing back in on Marik, meeting violet eyes laced with understanding.

Bakura tightened his grip, feeling the hot scars beneath the pads of his fingers. "I did."

Marik half-smiled, resting his forehead back against Bakura's shoulder and allowing his eyes to slide closed. "And you're here, with me."

"Yes." Bakura's voice was still uncharacteristically soft as he traced the patterns beneath his hands. Blond hair in his vision, the colour of flames. Tan skin pressed close to him, the colour of burned wood.

Bakura closed his eyes and rested his head on Marik's. "I'm here with you."

...

Marik lay between Bakura's legs on the bed, his back firmly protected and his head resting comfortably on Bakura's chest. Bakura had his arms around Marik, his chin resting in blond locks as he pressed the other student close to him. Marik's laptop was open on the other end of the bed, playing a film for them both to watch. Marik's eyes were mostly closed, however, and he sighed as he shifted a little closer to Bakura.

Bakura glanced down at him and snorted softly. "Are you even awake?"

"Y-yes." Marik yawned. "Well ... mostly."

Bakura shook his head, small smile quirking the corners of his lips. "You are the laziest person I have ever met."

Marik swatted feebly at him, curling up and fully closing his eyes. His night had been disturbed, after all, and he was enjoying the peace of this little moment.

There was a loud, clear knock at the door.

Both students groaned. Neither moved.

Bakura prodded Marik's side, digging his nail into Marik's black jumper. "Go get it."

"You go." Marik responded belligerently.

Bakura grinned. "If I move, you have to move too, as you insisted on sitting on me again. If you move, I get to stay here. Win-win."

"That is not win-win," Marik grumbled, but he begrudgingly shifted and clambered clumsily to his feet, stretching. Deliberately lifting his middle finger and shoving it in Bakura's face, Marik turned to the door and entered the hallway, yawning once more before unlocking the door and opening it.

"Cousin!"

Marik groaned, running one hand through his tousled hair. "Kek. Fantastic. Just who I wanted to see today."

"You know you did," Kek grinned. "Who else would you want to hang around with?"

"Kek, stop screwing around - we need to see Bakura," an ice-cold voice interrupted.

Marik blinked, peering past the vast form of his cousin to catch piercing blue eyes and a long white coat. Rolling his eyes, Marik stepped back, shouting over his shoulder, "It's for you, Bakura!"

The bedroom door opened and Bakura nonchalantly appeared, lifting a brow when he saw who it was. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk," Kaiba said. "Preferably without the idiot present."

Bakura grinned. "Marik, go wait in the bedroom."

"Like hell!" Marik sent Bakura a dangerous glare, his eyes narrowed and his brows lowered. "Fucking asshole."

Bakura smirked at him before stalking past them all, opening the kitchen door. As one of the chairs was still broken, Marik was forced to stand against the counter, watching the three of them sit around the table and plan.

"I've got a job for you both," Kaiba explained, his blue eyes gleaming slightly. "It won't actually be achieved for a while yet, but I need you both to start watching the place and the people involved as soon as possible."

Bakura smirked arrogantly, placing the tips of his fingers together and peering at Kaiba, brown eyes glinting. "And what, pray tell, is this job with which you so rudely ask for my assistance?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Bakura," Kaiba snapped, his face paling a little, nostrils flaring with fury. "You know full well what I'm asking you to do. I expect it done quickly and efficiently."

"I get the feeling I'm missing something here," Kek interrupted loudly.

Kaiba and Bakura stared at each other for another minute before Bakura sat back, lifting his hands in the air. "Alright, I had a hunch you'd ask for help on this one. Kek, Kaiba's had some trouble with a German company competing in the same field as him. I guess you'd be happier if they were out of the picture."

Kaiba nodded curtly. "It runs a little deeper than that. You need to destroy their business as well as remove them – look through their papers, steal their money, I don't care. Just get rid of them."

"And what do we get out of this venture?"

"Money, like usual, right?" Kek looked at Kaiba with a grin. "I'm getting rich fast."

Kaiba, however, looked to Bakura, who was casually polishing his nails.

Kaiba hissed. "Fine. I'll tell you the location of ... three of the Items."

"Five," Bakura responded smoothly.

Kaiba glared at him. "Four is the most you are getting out of me."

"Deal." Bakura jerked his head, lacing his fingers together. "But I will get all seven eventually."

"All seven of what?" Marik looked at Bakura suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

"Nothing. Tell you later."

Kaiba interrupted before Marik could question further. "I'll leave the two of you to work out the details. Be rid of them as fast as you can, but do the job thoroughly. Do your research. And keep the idiot out of the way."

"I do know what I'm doing," Bakura responded sagely, waving Kaiba away and ignoring Marik's splutter. "Get out of here."

Kaiba stood with a final glare at Bakura, turning with a swirl of his cloak to leave the flat.

Marik lifted a brow at his rather sullen exit, taking the newly vacated seat with a frown. "What's got into him?"

Bakura burst into loud peals of dark laughter, grin stretching his lips wide. His pale skin was creased with amusement, long hair thrown back over his shoulders, brown eyes sharp and gleaming when he turned them on Marik. Quietening slightly, Bakura stood up and firmly sat himself on Marik's lap, pulling him into a deep kiss, to which Marik happily responded.

A cackle sounded from Kek. "Gods, you two. Keep it in your pants."

Marik broke from Bakura with a hiss, turning to glare at Kek. "Say nothing. I'm warning you."

"Or what?" Kek's grin widened. "Calm down. I don't care if you two like to fuck each other."

Marik glared but Bakura just laughed, turning Marik's face firmly back towards his and kissing him again.

Marik's brow rose higher, breaking the kiss, leaning back and sending a pointed glare Kek's way. Marik tugged Bakura closer. "What the hell has got you so happy?"

"I've been trying to get information out of Kaiba on those Items for years." Bakura's eyes gleamed. "He must be absolutely desperate to come to me, knowing what I would ask."

"And what exactly did you ask? What are these Items?" Marik still looked suspicious.

"Later." Bakura swung his legs over Marik's as he turned to Kek, who was watching them with a wide grin. "I won't need you for a while, Kek. I'll take care of breaking into the house."

"What?" Kek looked a little affronted. "I'd better still get my cut."

Bakura smirked. "You'll get your money. Keep out of my way until I call you – I'll just need you for actually taking them out."

"I see." Kek's eyes gleamed. "I'm certainly up for that. I will destroy them"

Marik's nose wrinkled, his features screwing up as he looked between them. He had always known Bakura and Kek's activities weren't exactly legal, but hearing them discuss it so plainly reminded him a little too much of the act that had driven him to England in the first place. Although, with Bakura on his lap, it was a little easier to be pleased about that.

Kek left them soon after and Marik and Bakura curled back up on their bed, playing the last of the film they had been watching before they were so rudely interrupted. They sat side-by-side, backs resting against the wall, heads lying against each other. The laptop ran out of battery before the film ended, and neither could be bothered to get the charger, so in the end they just lay together, Bakura pulling Marik into a deep kiss. Marik smiled against his lips, pushing him down to lie flat on the bed, film forgotten as limbs tangled together and mouths moved against skin.

"I never gave you your present," Bakura murmured after a while, fingers tangling in Marik's hair.

Marik arched a brow, faux-surprised. "You actually got me a present? The world must be ending."

Bakura shoved him over onto the sheets, standing up and heading to the desk. Marik watched him curiously, arching a brow when he pulled open a drawer. "You hid it there? I could have found it anytime."

"You're never in here without me," Bakura snorted. "And you're the least observant person in the world."

"Still with the insults," Marik murmured, but his interest was piqued.

Bakura rummaged for another long moment before finally turning and heading back to the bed, his fist tightly closed. Marik watched with interest as he crawled back up the sheets, collapsing against Marik's chest and turning onto his side, meeting Marik's eyes.

Marik quirked an eyebrow, looking down at him. "Well?"

"Demanding, aren't you?" Bakura grinned before opening his palm and extending it towards Marik. "Happy birthday."

Marik accepted the thing with a small frown. It appeared to be a tiny purple box with a bit of string attached, one huge white circle in the middle. He held it between one finger and his thumb, his face creasing up in confusion. "What the hell is it?"

"Idiot." Bakura snorted, reaching up and taking the thing off Marik. He turned it around, untangling the bit of string into two parts and extending them to Marik. "Put these in your ears."

"The fuck?" Marik glared at him.

Bakura rolled his eyes and demonstrated. "They're headphones. Now put them in your ears."

Marik looked suspicious. "Is it going to explode if I do?"

"Just fucking put them in." Bakura shook his head, shoving them at Marik and taking the small purple box. Marik obeyed sullenly, placing the things in his ears and shivering at the coldness against his warm skin. Bakura grinned when he saw that they were fully in, deliberately placing his thumb over the white button. He pressed down.

Marik's jaw dropped when silvery music hit his ears, his eyes going wide. Tanned hands automatically flew to his ears, pressing against the headphones in shock, his expression turning into one of wonder. Bakura grinned at his reaction, tucking the player safely into Marik's pocket and curling up against his chest, closing his eyes. "I'm guessing you like it, then."

"It's – I –" Marik shook his head, arms tightening around Bakura. He placed two fingers under Bakura's chin and kissed him firmly, allowing his actions to explain his thanks better than his words ever could. Bakura smiled and pulled himself up, breaking the kiss after a long moment. He lifted one pale hand to one of Marik's ears, removing the headphone and placing it in his own.

Marik looked at him questioningly. Bakura grinned. "It's only fair I get to listen, too."

Marik rolled his eyes but allowed it, squeezing Bakura tightly. They lay in peaceful silence, eyes closing, both inherently comfortable in a way neither of them had ever been before.

Unfortunately, another knock at the door interrupted them.

Marik groaned softly, prodding Bakura. "Your turn this time."

"Fine." Bakura grunted, tugging out his headphone and chucking it at Marik as he stood up. Marik glared at him but Bakura just laughed, turning to the door. "Lazy ass."

"I am not," Marik grumbled, watching Bakura leave the room. He stretched out in the sheets, yawning widely before his hand dipped into his pocket and removed the small purple player. He examined it curiously – Bakura would have to show him how to work it, later.

Bakura entered the hall with a small smile at his lips; Marik's reaction had been even better than he had hoped. Marik was so naive about everyday things it was easy to wind him up and tease him, but Bakura also loved the way he would stare in wonder at every new pleasure that was revealed to him. Bakura rather enjoyed being on the receiving end of those smiles, rather than the harsh glares and angry stares Marik used to send his way.

Going to the flat door, Bakura noticed that Kek had left it unlocked, so he threw it wide open and looked out.

His jaw dropped.

Silence weighed through the hall, Bakura's skin paling to almost worrying transparency, his brown eyes narrowing, then widening, than narrowing so far that they became snake-like slits buried deep in his features. His mouth drew into a thin line, hands clenching into taught fists by his sides.

The newcomer looked out of an equally pale face, white hair falling in streaks down past slender, pale shoulders. A suitcase sat on the ground beside him, a backpack on his back. Brown eyes, the exact same shade as Bakura's, glimmered defiantly up at him. "Hello, Bakura."

Bakura's glower deepened at the sound of his name. His lips pursed, words tearing their way out of his throat like a plaster ripped off tender skin.

"Ryou. What the fuck are you doing here?"

Ok, so I know I'm leaving it on a cliffhanger, but I promise I'll have the next chapter out as soon as I possibly can. Hopefully Tuesday, but like I said earlier, depends on my health. I shall do my best not to be late, though. XD Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! – Jem