So I am finally back with an update! I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting so long, stupid health, grrr, but here is the new chapter. It's quite short, which I am sorry about, but I just wanted to update with SOMETHING, even if it isn't much. I hope you don't mind. ^_^ I still don't think I'll be sticking to a regular update schedule but there will still be new chapters, just less frequently. I have every intention of finishing this story eventually, so stick with me!
Special thanks must go to FanGirl16, Miss Macabre Grey, and CursiveBlade13, who keep me sane when I can't write. The fact that this story is being updated is largely down to them. XD
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter, literally every single review made me laugh out loud. You lot are all incredible. I hope you enjoy this (short) update now that it's finally here! – Jem
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?"
"Well, if you actually picked up your phone once in a blue moon, you would know!" Ryou glared, his eyes narrowing.
Bakura growled low in his throat, blocking the door as he leaned threateningly over his younger brother, expression darkening into one of absolute hatred. Ryou glared right back, his features not as twisted as Bakura's but certainly not welcoming or loving. Both brothers were deadlocked, refusing to back down.
"I seem to remember," Bakura's voice was deceptively calm, "Telling you to not, under any circumstances, get involved with my life."
Ryou hissed. "Well, it isn't exactly like I have much choice."
"Find somewhere else," Bakura deadpanned and made to slam the door.
Ryou stuck his foot in the way, his eyes widening alarmingly. "Bakura! There is nowhere else for me to go! Are you really going to stick me back in care because you can't be bothered to look after me?"
"Nope. Too much paperwork. Go live on the streets for all I bloody care." Bakura made to slam the door again but Ryou shrieked, forcing himself bodily forwards.
The noise finally alerted Marik, who up until this point had remained curled up on the bed. With a low grumble, he clambered painfully off the bed and made his way to the door, back stiff and a little sore. It would need to be treated again soon. So far, however, this day had gone much better than any year previously, and Bakura was a large part of that.
Bakura, who was now dragging Marik out of bed.
Marik growled as he threw open the bedroom door, rubbing his eyes as he entered the hallway. "Bakura, keep it down, will you? I was trying to -"
Marik stopped speaking and his jaw dropped.
Stood in the doorway was another Bakura – someone with long white hair and angry brown eyes, lips drawn into a thin line, pale skin covered with livid lines. Fists clenched by his sides shoulders hunched forwards, almost perfectly matching Bakura's stance. Bakura hissed when Marik appeared, his jaw rolling as he clenched and unclenched his teeth, fingers flexing. "Get back in the bedroom. Now."
"What? No way!" Marik blinked several times and stepped further into the hallway, running his eyes over the new arrival in the doorway. Bakura snarled but Marik ignored him, instead striding forwards and pulling the door wide.
Brown eyes widened in shock when they alighted on Marik. "Who are you?"
"I could say the same to you!" Marik turn to glare daggers at Bakura, who glared just as harshly back. Marik snorted. "This is your brother, right?"
"No shit, fucking genius," Bakura snarled. "Whatever led you to that conclusion? Was it the near-identical looks that had you, or the fact that he's a complete twat?"
"Bakura!" Ryou drew in a deep, calming breath, dropping his head into his hands before looking back at Marik. "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are, but yes, I'm Ryou Touzoku. I thought my brother lived alone."
"It's none of your fucking business," Bakura growled. "Get the fuck out of here."
Ryou shook his head. "You know I can't do that."
"I don't fucking care, just get the hell out." Bakura clenched his fists and took a threatening step forwards, sending Ryou skittering backwards, his eyes opening wide.
"Stop!" Marik stood between them and glared back and forth before deciding Bakura was the most urgent. He turned on his pale partner and backed him up, frowning heavily. "Get back in the bedroom."
"Like hell. That's where you need to go whilst I take care of that." Bakura gestured angrily to Ryou, who hissed.
Marik rolled his eyes, breathing slowly as he continued to back Bakura up. A growl ripped out of Bakura's throat as he met Marik's eyes, firmly standing his ground, brows lowering dangerously and hands curling into fists. Marik refused to back down. When he spoke, he made sure to keep his tone smooth and even, placing calming hands on Bakura's shoulders and murmuring softly. "Just go in the bedroom. You can't think straight like this."
A snarl tore through Bakura's lips.
"Go on." Marik gave him a small push, smile flickering about the corners of his lips. "I'll be in soon. If you feel the need to destroy something, don't touch the piano – I quite like when you play that."
Despite himself, a smirk twitched Bakura's lips. "Don't worry; destroying things is your speciality."
Marik scoffed a little, watching as Bakura turned and stormed into the bedroom. Less than a minute later an angry clash of notes sounded from the piano, followed by another, and another, as Bakura ground out a furious tune.
Marik sighed.
"Um ... thank you."
Marik turned with surprise, having almost forgotten the newcomer still standing outside the flat. Ryou looked a little sheepish, his hands clasping and unclasping nervously in front of him as he rocked from foot to foot. He swallowed before speaking again. "I never know what to do when Bakura gets like that."
Marik shrugged. "He's alright if you let him calm down."
They both winced when a particularly cross chord sounded through the flat, and Marik had to bite back a smile. "Well, mostly. I guess you'd better come in."
Ryou chewed his lip. Slowly, he complied, bending down to pick up his suitcase before staggering into the hall, shutting the door lightly behind him and switching the hand holding the case. He shivered.
Marik just stared at him for another long moment before turning with a sigh. "I guess we should go in the kitchen."
Ryou followed quietly. The suitcase was placed near the door, Ryou on a chair, and Marik flicked the kettle on before sitting opposite him and just staring. He ran his eyes down Ryou's form, taking in the obvious similarities to Bakura with a small shake of his head. The likeness was uncanny. Ryou's eyes were perhaps a little softer, his hair a little tamer, but otherwise they were almost identical.
Ryou half-smiled. "I know I look a lot like him."
"You do." Marik continued to stare.
Ryou shifted a little uncomfortably. "Um, so ... who are you, exactly?"
"Oh! Right, yeah, I forgot you didn't know about me." Marik grinned, resting his chin on one elbow as he watched Ryou. "My name's Marik. I'm your brother's flatmate."
"Flatmate? I didn't think Bakura was living with anyone. Oh, I'm so sorry to be barging in like this..." Ryou rubbed his hands apologetically, chewing his lip.
Marik waved him away. "It doesn't bother me. Bakura shouldn't be surprised either – Yami's been warning him for ages that you would need somewhere to stay. I'm guessing his grandfather's in hospital, and you're stuck for somewhere to live?"
Ryou nodded slowly.
"You'll have to stay here then." Marik grimaced a little; there was no denying that it would be inconvenient to have another person in the flat, getting in the way, but at the same time Marik knew that Bakura couldn't just abandon his responsibilities. Like it or not, Bakura was all that Ryou had, and Marik wasn't about to let him destroy his family.
Ryou sighed in relief, allowing his head to drop into his hands. "Really? You'll let me stay? I was so sure, when Yami said Bakura wouldn't accept me at all..."
"I won't let Bakura kick you out," Marik promised. He took in Ryou's trembling form and shook his head, pursing his lips. "I can't believe he's abandoned you like this, considering that you're all the family he has left. I can understand him hating Yami, but you?"
"He still hates Yami?" Ryou groaned, massaging his forehead. "I hoped he'd be over that by now..."
Marik instantly flared with curiousity, fire burning through his veins, his head fuzzing over slightly. He frowned over at Ryou. How much could he push, without seeming suspicious? Bakura would never tell him what was going on, but Ryou? Ryou just might be Marik's key to finding out more about Bakura.
"Well," Marik began carefully, "I know Bakura hates him, and he shows no sign of getting over it soon."
Ryou sighed loudly. "He needs to get over himself. Yami didn't start the fire and that's that; he needs to realise that no one is ever going to believe his lies!"
Marik's jaw dropped. "Bakura thinks Yami started the fire?!" That made so much sense, but at the same time, so little. It completely explained why Bakura would hate Yami as much as he did, and it even explained Yami's attitude sometimes, how he always seemed to defer to Bakura. But surely Yami wouldn't have ... he couldn't have...
"Bakura didn't tell you?"
Marik shot back to the present, meeting Ryou's wide-eyed gaze. Ryou swallowed. "I thought Bakura would have told you! Ah, no, what if he was keeping it secret deliberately?"
"Trust me, I would have got it out of him eventually." Marik's voice was low and stern, his brows firmly furrowed. His mind was stumbling to catch up with Ryou's words, attempting to piece the story together. "Why would Yami have started the fire?"
"He didn't." Ryou's voice was flat. "Bakura's paranoid."
Marik blinked, turning to look at Ryou, his eyes widening slightly. Ryou was staring down at the tabletop, his hands curled determinedly into fists, his brows furrowed heavily and weighing low over his eyes. He looked sad.
Marik sighed. He had no idea how to cope with this - dealing with Bakura was bad enough, but now there was a perfect stranger in his flat and Marik was supposed to be making him feel welcome. Marik shifted, saying the only thing that came to mind. "I'm sorry."
"You don't have to be." Ryou sent Marik a half-smile. "You've given me a place to stay, so I have to thank you for that. Do you ... do you have a spare bedroom?"
"We've got two." Marik grinned and stood up. "There are only two of us in this four bedroom flat. Come on, I'll show you to your room."
Ryou smiled and stood, picking up his suitcase, his backpack still slung over his shoulders. When Marik opened the kitchen door they were still greeted by piano music, although it was slightly calmer now. Ryou looked worriedly at the door hiding Bakura but Marik led him straight passed it, opening one of the unused rooms and ushering Ryou into it. "I'll talk to Bakura. Don't worry about that. You just ... settle in, or whatever..."
Ryou nodded with a small smile, entering the room.
Marik shut the door after him and rested against the frame, closing his eyes in an attempt to clear his head. Ryou was so like Bakura that it was almost surreal; his voice and mannerisms were all so much calmer, they almost sounded wrong coming out of his mouth, when Marik was so used to harsh words and thinly veiled threats from Bakura. Ryou was just ... wrong.
Another angry clash of notes sounded from the piano and Marik winced. Bakura was quite obviously livid; earlier he had been the most out of control Marik had ever seen him, almost frighten in his absolute anger. But what on earth was it about Ryou that made him so furious? Marik was going to have to get it out of him, no matter how angry he was.
Drawing in a deep breath, Marik strode determinedly back to Bakura's bedroom and flung the door wide open.
The piano music instantly swelled in volume, the door swinging shut behind him as Marik leaned against the wall. Bakura was hunched over the piano, his fingers flying over the keys, long hair streaming down his back as his face contorted into furious expressions, angry lines marring his eyes and mouth. Marik chewed his lip.
They remained in silence except for the flying keys until Bakura finally stopped, abruptly, leaving an angry dissonance hanging in the air. He didn't turn to look at Marik as he spoke. "Is the bastard gone?"
"Presuming you mean your brother," Marik spoke slowly, licking his lips, "Then no. He's still here."
Silence.
Bakura remained stiff as Marik edged closer, sliding onto the other end of the piano stool and facing Bakura. "He needs somewhere to stay. You can't just abandon him."
"The fuck I can't," Bakura snarled, but when he turned to face Marik there was an almost hopeless despair behind his deep brown eyes. It tugged at Marik's heartstrings.
With a low sigh, Marik slipped forwards and wrapped his arms around Bakura's shoulders, pulling Bakura over so that his head rested on Marik's chest. Bakura remained stiff and still, unresponsive as Marik rested his head in Bakura's hair.
They sat in silence for a while, discord still hanging heavily in the air. Bakura slowly, imperceptibly, began to sag against Marik, his eyes sliding shut and his head dropping. Marik cradled him close, lightly stroking his shoulder and breathing in his now-familiar scent, sighing a little. "Why do you not want him to stay?"
"He's a bastard," Bakura growled. "A bastard and a gullible idiot."
Marik chewed his lip, debating how much to say. In the end, he just blurted it out. "Ryou told me that you think Yami started the fire."
Silence.
Bakura slowly turned his head, meeting Marik's eyes with a searching, painful gaze. "I don't think, I know," Bakura snarled. "And why the fuck would he tell you that?"
"Because he actually does what I ask, unlike you," Marik snorted softly, continuing to hold Bakura close. "Why do you think Yami started it?"
Bakura fell silent, his brows furrowing. "He did," Bakura growled quietly. "I saw him do it."
Marik shook his head, running his fingers lightly through Bakura's hair. The anger was still evident, burning behind his every word, but at the same time Marik knew that Bakura was hurting. He had never seen Bakura this vulnerable before, and Marik was burning to know why.
"Why would Yami start a fire in your house?" Marik questioned softly, rocking Bakura with gentle movements on the piano stool.
A snarl ripped past Bakura's lips and he pushed himself away, launching up onto his feet and backing away from the piano stool. Marik turned to him with questioning violet eyes, but Bakura's expression was fiery and burning; his lips were pulled back, exposing sharp white teeth, and his brown eyes were gleaming with an inner rage that Marik could only begin to guess at. There was more to this situation than Marik yet knew.
"You know nothing," Bakura growled, echoing Marik's thoughts. "You know nothing about any of this, so just stop fucking assuming."
Marik felt the beginnings of anger stirring in his own stomach. He clambered to his feet and turned to face Bakura, brows lowering and lips pursing. "Maybe I wouldn't have to assume if you actually shared your life with me."
"It's none of your fucking business," Bakura snarled.
Marik hissed, easily ducking around the piano stool and advancing on Bakura. "Of course it is! I shared everything with you -"
"We're not back on that again," Bakura snorted, dodging Marik's lunge and whirling away to the other side of the room. They faced each other, identical expressions of anger twisting both their features, perfectly at eye level. Bakura growled, continuing bluntly. "I needed to know your story, Marik. You don't need to know mine."
"I do now!" Marik responded hotly. "Now your brother's fucking moved in, I think I have a right to know -!"
"It's your damn fault he's still here!" Bakura's low voice was growing raspier and more agitated with each passing second, his eyes flashing with a searing heat. "If you had just done as I said and left us alone I would have got rid of him by now!"
"And what? Abandoned him on the streets? Left him to fend entirely for himself?!" Marik could feel hot flames shooting through his veins. "You can't just leave him like that when you're all he's got left!"
"I don't fucking want to be!" Bakura was breathing heavily, the words flung at Marik as hard and tough as boulders. "You think I want to have to take care of him, or that he wants to be here? Trust me, he would much rather be as far away from me as I would from him."
"But why? Why wouldn't you want to stick together? You're all the family you have left..." Marik trailed off when he saw Bakura's furious expression.
In less than a second, Bakura flew across the room and slammed Marik backwards, both of them tumbling to the ground at the force of his momentum. Bakura flipped Marik around onto his front and crashed on top of his back, capturing both of Marik's hand and trapping them even as Bakura hissed into Marik's ear. "He hates me, Marik. It would be better for both of us if you had just let me kick him out."
"Well, I'm not going to allow that," Marik gasped, winded from his sudden knock onto the floor. Bakura snarled into his ear and Marik winced, attempting to get up only for Bakura to slam him back down again. "Let me the hell up!"
"Fuck no. You need to understand what you're doing." Bakura growled lowly, hissing the words quietly into Marik's ear. They dripped like slivers of poison. "Ryou hates me because he thinks I started the fire."
Marik went utterly still.
Bakura scoffed. "That's how I thought you'd react."
Without another word, Bakura's weight was suddenly gone from Marik's back. Marik moved slowly, bringing his knees painfully up under his chest and sitting upright before clambering slowly to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. He turned with slow movements to see Bakura watching him, gaze fiery and stern, expression impassive.
"I suppose you think he could be right," Bakura stated; his tone was deceptively calm, but there was fire behind his words. "I'm violent, dangerous, and quite obviously capable of murder. I could have started the fire. I could have killed my family; hell, that would explain why I pushed Ryou away. It would explain everything and tie up all the loose ends in a neat little bundle, right?"
Marik opened his mouth, but Bakura was already speaking again.
"Much as I'm sure you would love that to be true, it isn't. Yami started the fire. I was there, I fucking saw it, only no one would believe me because he was such a fucking good student and I was the untrustworthy one, so there is absolutely no way anyone would take my word over his! Never mind that I was telling the truth, or that it was me who lost everything..."
Marik blinked, stepping forwards slightly. "I don't think you started the fire."
Bakura instantly stopped speaking. His head snapped up, gaze locking onto Marik's.
Marik continued carefully, "That makes even less sense than Yami starting it. But you have to tell me what happened."
"The fuck I do," Bakura growled.
Marik shook his head. All the tangled threads were just hanging there, none of them linking up, and he would be damned if he didn't get Bakura to explain, now, exactly what he was talking about. "Tell me everything, Bakura. Right now."
"No fucking way." Bakura hissed.
Marik advanced, for once trapping Bakura in a corner, refusing to let him leave. Marik's violet eyes were narrowed dangerously, his expression demanding and unforgiving. Bakura's back hit a wall and he looked vaguely startled.
Marik leaned right over him. "Tell me everything. Now."
"When did you grow a backbone?" Bakura's tone was faintly amused.
Marik snarled.
Bakura lifted his hands, faux-submissive. "Fine. I'll tell you, but you better just shut the fuck up until I'm done."
Marik pointedly snapped his mouth shut.
Bakura grinned, but it was a feral action, no humour behind the expression at all. "I was there when the fire started. It was the middle of the night and I went downstairs to get a glass of water, and what do I find in the kitchen? Yami with a box of matches."
"What the hell?" Marik interrupted, forgetting Bakura's order. "Why the fuck would he be in your house?"
Bakura's expression grew dangerous. "Shut the fuck up. You know Yami and I have both lived in this city for our entire lives – at least, Yami has. I moved here with my family when I was seven, the year before the fire. I was already very musical, but turns out this place already had its little star – Yami. We both competed together frequently, but poor little Yami couldn't handle that I was better than him. It probably didn't help that I taunted him at every possible occasion, but honestly, the little fucker deserved it. He was horribly jealous.
"Anyway, we both entered the same music competition when I was eight and he was seven. I won, of course, but poor jealous little Yami couldn't cope. He sneaked around to our house in the middle of the night and saw the matches, just as I came down the stairs. He was scared when he saw me and ran, but he'd already lit a match. I just watched the flames spread, whilst he legged it...
"I came to my senses soon enough, of course, and ran back up the stairs. I met my mum. I told her what had happened and she told me to get Ryou and go, she'd fetch Amane and dad and meet us out there. I did as she asked, only no one else ever got out. Just Ryou and me."
Bakura's expression darkened dangerously as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms. Marik backed off a little, his eyes widening as he ran his gaze over Bakura's form, mind struggling to catch up with what Bakura was saying.
"So..." Marik stopped, licked his lips, then tried again. "Yami started the fire?"
Bakura nodded once. "As I told you he did."
Marik shook his head, tone incredulous. "He started the fire because he was jealous?"
"You have to remember that he was seven," Bakura sighed, running a hand over his face. "Not that that excuses him at all, but a seven year old doesn't exactly have rational reasons for burning down a house and murdering three people."
Marik walked towards Bakura slowly, hesitantly, swallowing as he reached out a hand. "But why – why doesn't Ryou believe you?"
Bakura's eyes closed. His head dropped into his hands.
His shoulders shook.
Marik sighed and pulled Bakura towards him, enfolding him in a hug. Moving carefully, Marik found his way to the bed and sat with his back to the headboard, Bakura ensconced firmly on his lap, wrapped up tightly in his arms. Bakura, for once, curled up without complaint.
"He questions how I got him out," Bakura started slowly. "It took years, but Ryou grew suspicious. He thought the only way I could have known about the fire in enough time to get him and me out was if I'd started it myself. He never believed what I said about Yami – Ryou and Yugi, Yami's little brother, have been friends since we first moved here. That family can do no wrong in Ryou's eyes."
Bakura's lips twisted in a sneer and Marik pulled him a little closer, lips close to Bakura's ear. "I get that. But you can't just kick Ryou out."
"The fuck I can't," Bakura snarled. "He's still an ungrateful bastard."
Marik shook his head, rocking Bakura gently at the hidden pain still evident in his tone. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. It's late – you should sleep."
"So should you," Bakura countered, but he lay down obediently enough, pulling Marik down with him.
The two students curled up together, Marik pulling Bakura safely into his chest, running light fingers along Bakura's back until the pale student dropped off to sleep. Marik remained awake for a long time after, however, as he tried to wrap his mind around everything Bakura had said. So much was still unclear, despite how much had been revealed...
Yami started the fire. Yami. Whenever Marik thought of his fellow art student, it was through a haze of hot rage. It was so unbelievable at the same time, though, because how on earth could a seven year old boy have broken into someone's house, stolen matches, started the fire, and then run off, all without getting caught? Never mind the fact that Yami seemed perfectly placid nowadays, if a little irritating.
But then, why would Bakura make up such a story?
Marik knew who he believed. He tightened his arms around Bakura's back, holding the sleeping student close.
Regardless of who was telling the truth, why had nothing been done? Surely the police must have investigated. Marik would have to ask Bakura for more details in the morning, assuming Bakura would still want to talk about it, which was unlikely. Marik would just have to make him speak.
And then, there was Ryou.
Ryou, who had lost just as much as Bakura. Ryou, who believed that his own brother started the fire that killed their parents and sister. Ryou, who was sleeping in the next room.
No wonder the two brothers were so often at loggerheads.
Marik sighed, attempting to calm his racing thoughts as he held Bakura close to him. Marik buried his head in white hair, allowing his eyes to slide closed as he attempted to relax his taught muscles, trying to sink his unwilling body into sleep. It had been a wonderful day up until Ryou's entrance; Marik had never experienced such a happy birthday. But it seemed that this day was cursed, no matter where Marik was.
Marik sighed, breathing in the scent of Bakura's hair as he attempted to sleep. It was a restless night, but Marik knew the next day would only bring more strife.
How in the hell was Marik going to manage Bakura and Ryou living in the same flat?
Finished for now! I'm sorry that this is a little rushed, I'm about to go to another appointment to see if they can sort my health out. I have absolutely no idea when the next update will be done, as I said earlier I certainly won't be back on my regular schedule yet, but trust me, this story will be finished. I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I possibly can! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem