***Gonna try to post all five chapters throughout the day***

They went to a local Italian place between Mariku's apartment and the hospital. Ryou sipped his second cappuccino as he waited for his order of penne.

"Coffee will only keep you awake for so many days." Mariku shook his head as he sipped a glass of wine.

"Perhaps alcohol is a better choice?"

"I told you, I don't want the shakes."

Ryou sighed. "It's none of my business, really. It's not like my sister doesn't already know you're a drunk and a bastard. I just wish . . ." his sentence floated out into the room with the smells of garlic and rosemary.

"That has nothing to do with me. You wish she wasn't going to die."

Ryou shot a cold stare at Mariku. "That's obvious. I wanted to say I wished she had a better artistic role model."

"Bunny, I'm hurt. You think so low of me when I've been nothing but nice to you."

"You're not nice. You're not nice at all. Anybody can suck a dick."

"Bunny, that's no way to talk in public!" Mariku gasped with mock offense.

"Wikipedia made you seem so dark and menacing, but you're really just annoying."

A guttural chuckle left Mariku's mouth. "Dark and menacing helps sales, and you're simply lucky - if anyone else barged into my day like you did, I would have sent them home with a broken face." Mariku finished his wine with a large swallow. "You just happened to catch me in a mood where I wanted to pet a bunny."

Ryou snorted at that. "And normally I don't tolerate that kind of haphazard treatment. You just caught me on a day I needed a distraction."

"No insult in that. This whole thing is a cheap distraction. You're trying to forget why you came to see me in the first place - I'm trying to forget that I was in the middle of drinking myself to death when you interrupted me."

"You make me sick," Ryou snapped. "So many people want to live and can't. How do you just toss your life in the trash like that?"

"Fuck you. If I jumped into traffic right now it wouldn't make your sister live a single day more or less so don't project on me."

"It still seems like a waste. You have money and talent and admirers of that talent, so what's with the vodka and self pity?"

The waitress brought their food. They paused and smiled at her, stabbing at their plates with forks but paying more attention to their conversation.

Mariku gave Ryou a wry smile. "It's going to take more than one date to get my life story, Bunny."

Ryou flushed. "This isn't a date."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Dates are with people you're interested in."

"It just so happens." Mariku leaned close to whisper in a conspiratorial tone. "That I find you very interesting."

"I'm only doing this for my sister."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"You secretly find this engaging, but to admit that would leave you emotionally vulnerable - a luxury you cannot afford under the circumstances." A villainous grin curled around Mariku's face. "Prudent of you, really. I'm not safe, I'm not stable, and I'm definitely not good for you, better to keep your walls up around me, regardless of my bad boy charm."

Ryou found himself returning Mariku's smile. "Hmmm ... you're so full of yourself that you can't even analyze me without making it about you. Am I allowed to play this game as well? You suffer from delusions of grandeur, perpetuated by your artist status, but like so many others with artistic bents, you suffer with bouts of depression and anxiety, often feeling like you're unworthy of your success and then you feel pressured to maintain the facade so no one realizes your talent is fake."

"What are you? My therapist?"

"Hit the mark, did I?"

"Did I not as well?"

"I'm a florist," Ryou answered Mariku's earlier question."

"Gay florist. That's very original of you, Bunny."

"Yes, well, we can't all avoid the tropes of our social groups and be broody, manic-depressive artists."

"Touché, Bunny. You know, we should really quit talking. I think I'm growing fond of you."

"I think I'm too numb to feel anything right now. I don't even mind the nickname anymore. You overused it, and the irritation factor lost all its potency."

"What a mutually satisfying relationship we've seemed to struck up this afternoon."

Ryou snorted laughter, his head floating in a pool of sleep exhaustion. "Satisfying relationship indeed, I can't tell how much of you is manipulation and how much is the alcohol leaving your system."

"The game is more fun when you have to guess."

"Wouldn't that be a twist? If sober you were a semi-pleasant human being?"

"Seems unlikely."

"Do you even remember how you act sober?"

"Not really."

They finished. Mariku covered the check and then winked at Ryou as if it proved that they were, indeed, on a date. Ryou rolled his eyes and kept his arms crossed to suggest otherwise. They walked to the hospital, Ryou leading Mariku to Amane's room.

She lay in a hospital bed, a mess of wires and monitors, but Ryou noticed she wasn't on oxygen anymore. He hoped it meant she was feeling better, and not that she'd ripped the tubes out of her nose until the nurses gave up again.

Her eyes, verdant green despite the frail white body failing all around her, rolled up to see Ryou and Mariku enter the room.

"Holy shit they must have me on some good drugs, because I'm hallucinating."

Ryou smiled, happy even if for only a brief moment. "No Amane, it's really him."

She started at Mariku, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't my make a wish thing, is it? Because I was going to wish for three wishes. No matter how many times they tell me no, and then after all the fuss, I was going to use each wish on one cheesecake."

Mariku smirked. "Oh, I have a feeling that you and I are going to get along."

Ryou frowned. "Why not just wish for three cheesecakes?"

Mariku laughed. "Strike that. I know we're going to get along, and your brother will hate it."

Amane grinned. The cancer hadn't managed to stop that either, not her eyes and not her grin, but everything else ...

"Goddammit Ryou, you missed the point entirely." Her eyes flicked to Mariku. "He got it."

"I was at home," Mariku explained, "and some asshole I've never seen before shows up unannounced insisting he talk with me. I tried to scare him off, that works with everyone else, but he didn't give two shits, now here I am."

Amane rolled her clover-green eyes. "Bullshit."

Mariku smirked. "What?"

"You're not fooling me, and I doubt you're fooling my brother. Mariku Ishtar does not do charity."

Mariku crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "I was curious. I wanted to meet the sister he cared so much about."

"No. You want to fuck him."

Ryou blushed at her blunt words while Mariku's smirk widened.

Amane continued. "You want to fuck him, and you're hoping if you came here and patted his kid sister on her bald, little head, that he would spread his legs in gratitude to you."

"Well, is it going to work?"

"Pffft, no you fucking retard. He's damn near demisexual. You'd have to all but marry him to get him in bed."

"Amane, I'm standing right here."

"So what?"

"Shit, I walked three blocks for nothing, then." Mariku plopped into a chair besides Amane's bed, his legs spread gracelessly to either side of him. He grabbed Amane's sketch pad off of the bed.

"Bitch, don't you do it," Amane warned.

"Too late." He opened the notebook to look inside.

"Everything in there is shit," Amane murmured. "Chicken fuckers won't let me have any of my proper supplies in my room."

Ryou could have interjected, but he stayed still and watched because of the look on Mariku's face. His eyes studied each page, thoughtful, sometimes he muttered soundless comments to himself, and a soft smile teased his face. It didn't even look like Mariku, and the change fascinated Ryou.

"I can see my influence in your brush strokes, but you're not another cocksucker trying to imitate me. You get bold with your colors and make these your own pieces."

Amane returned Mariku's smile, and Ryou saw unique love on their faces, the love of a shared art.

"Your work is amazing," Amane said, "I never tire of staring at an Ishtar, but they're dark, too dark. I had to fix them. I couldn't stand the loneliness, so I started saving for paintbrushes and canvas. Something inside me, I don't know, wanted to balance the universe ... add light to it."

Ryou held his breath. He knew what Amane said wasn't just words, the fan-ecstatic prattle of a teenager. What she said was her soul, bared in all its beautiful, vulnerable glory, to someone she didn't see as a god, but as an equal in her craft.

And Mariku nodded. Simply nodded. Ryou wasn't sure what that meant, but Amane looked pleased. She looked at Ryou. "Hey, big brother?"

Ryou sighed through his nose. "You want something. You don't have to prime me for it. It's not like I can say no to you."

"Ice chips?"

"Of course."

"The machine is to the left."

Ryou noded and went to find the machine. He got lost, and had to circle around a different hall to find a nurse. He'd gone the wrong way somehow, left when he should have gone right, though he was sure Amane said left, but he was exhausted.

He knew something was wrong before he entered the room. There was a pre-quiet that he only picked up subconsciously. Ryou pushed into the room and gaped at the empty bed and disabled heart monitor. Panic blinded him. Ryou swallowed and dropped his cup of ice, pivoting on the linoleum and sprinting out of the hospital.

By the time he reached Mariku's place, Ryou felt as if he breathed in broken glass instead of air, and the stitch in his side wailed from running too long. His hands shook as he pressed for the elevator.

The ride felt slower. The rust looked more sinister on the cage bars, like old caked blood. When the door finally slide away, Mariku stood there, waiting to open the elevator gate.

Ryou punched him as soon as the door opened.

Mariku staggered backwards, and Ryou tackled him to the ground before Mariku had a chance to register what was happening.

He heard Amane screaming for him to stop, but Ryou couldn't stop. Every big-brother instinct in his head demanded he beat the shit out of Mariku.

Mariku grinned, lip bleeding. He kept whacking Ryou upside the head with his palm. Ryou knew he was holding back, hitting with an open hand instead of fists, but each strike jarred Ryou's head and made sparks fly in his vision. They grappled on the floor, elbows and knees finding random marks and hands tugging at hair.

At some point in the tangle Mariku slammed Ryou onto his back and pinned both hands over Ryou's head, lavender eyes flicking towards Amane.

Ryou followed his gaze and noticed his sister grinding her teeth, red faced and pissed off. Ryou shot his stare back to Mariku. "Explain."

"She wanted to bail, so we bailed."

"That wasn't your decision."

"No. It was hers."

Ryou blinked twice and then pushed himself out from under Mariku's form. He walked over to his sister, still pink-cheeked, but calmer since the fighting stopped.

"You idiot," she chastised him. "I used to beat up the bullies who picked on you on the playground. What the fuck made you think you could start a fist fight?"

"Amane, this isn't high school. You can't ditch it like it's history class." He ignored her question and sat beside her on Mariku's daybed.

"Ryou." Amane held both his hands. "We both know ..." her sentence faded.

Her eyes begged him to let her go, but he wasn't willing to. Her smooth, paper-thin scalp and sallow cheeks made her eyes look too big for her face, and Ryou fought back tears.

Mariku pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed a pair of motorcycle keys from a nail near the elevator.

"Where the hell are you going?" Ryou demanded. It wasn't fair, to yell at the artist, Ryou only wanted the distraction. He wanted anything to pull him from the conversation Amane was trying to have.

"Hungry," Mariku grumbled as he disappeared into the elevator.

"No you're not!"

The slamming gate muted Ryou's words. They sat in silence for a moment before Amane frowned. "Ryou Bakura what has gotten into you? You're so polite to people that it makes me puke, do you hate him or something? It really was my fault that we left the hospital."

"I don't hate him," Ryou whispered. In fact, he found himself loving Mariku, in the way that one loved a hero - or perhaps villain - in a story because of their pure, bold actions and unbendable character.

Amane knew Ryou wouldn't allow her to leave the hospital. He followed rules. He always took the path of least social resistance. But people like Mariku, like Amane, couldn't live in society's box, couldn't be happy in it, and that hospital room was so much like a box.

Amane sat back, smirking. "I challenged him."

"To kidnap you?"

Amane snorted. "No, he did that for shits and giggles - and it was more of a rescue than a kidnapping. What I challenged him to was a sort of dark game."

"Monopoly?"

Amane laughed. Ryou hadn't heard that specific laugh in a while and it made his heart swell and hurt at the same time.

"It's a sort of macabre race. We're going to see who can paint the most pictures before I die, and they can't be shitty sketches, they have to be complete pieces."

Ryou smiled, wondering if this meant Amane would get her painting, the one that started Ryou's crazy day.

"He even said he could get paints and easels into my room without those bitch nurses complaining."

"Hmmm ... I fear his methods."

"Who cares. Honestly he could stab everyone who objects for all I care. As long as I can paint again."

Ryou happened to notice the window at that moment and gasped. The last of the sunlight slanted into the room, striking the painted window glass and turning the dim colors into a glowing masterpiece.

"It's beautiful."

"Why do you sound so surprised, Ryou? You should know if he's my favorite artist then he's amazing."

Ryou stood up, getting closer to the window. He heard the grinding and moaning of the elevator behind him, but ignored it as he admired the colored glass.

He heard Mariku's voice behind him. "I always thought there was something missing from that. I should nail your feet to the floor and make you part of the work."

Ryou turned around and noticed Mariku holding three boxes. "What's that?"

He grinned. "Three cheesecakes."

"I'm still wishing for three more!" Amane shouted as if offended by the desserts in Mariku's arms.

"Not my problem."

Ryou swallowed hard, feeling like an asshole as he watched Mariku opening up the boxes on the island counter and serving Amane a plate with three different types of cheesecake on it.

"This is going to make me sick and I don't even care." She grabbed the fork and plate with a greedy smile.

Mariku tossed a dismissive hand in Ryou's general direction. "You can get your own, asshole."

Ryou shrugged, unapologetic. His head still rang, so he felt proud of the little cut decorating Mariku's bottom lip. Ryou almost regretted that their fight ended so soon, or perhaps he regretted that he wasn't still pinned to the floor beneath Mariku's body weight. Ryou shook his head and distracted himself with cheesecake.

They sat on opposite sides of Amane. The other two talked about painting and painters, Ryou could only half follow their conversation. He frowned as he noticed that Amane couldn't finish more than a few bites of her favorite dessert. She kept looking at her plate like she wanted to eat more, but then frowned without taking another bite.

Mariku stabbed into her French Silk slice and stole a generous bite.

"Hey, jerkoff, I'm still eating that!" Amane shouted, though she looked happy.

"Well, you're too slow."

"I'm savoring it."

"Yeah?" He took piece of the turtle cheesecake and ate it even as Amane have him a weak smack.

While she argued with Mariku, Ryou stole a bite from the vanilla bean cheesecake, always loving the simpler desserts.

"Ryou Bakura, I am shocked." Amane's mouth hung open. "This asshole must have been a bad influence on you."

Mariku snorted. "Apparently, he keeps insisting he's nice, but I've yet to see evidence of this."

"Ryou's the sweetest person in the world. He's like a cuddly, white bunny."

Mariku cackled at Amane's words and Ryou swore.

"Goddammit, Amane."

"What?"

"See, Bunny? I call it like I see it."

Ryou felt his face burning. Not so much from the nickname itself, but rather because he had a good view of the copper bathtub from where he sat and couldn't seem to shake the calls of oh bunny from his head.

"What am I missing?" Amane asked.

"Nothing."

"Really Ryou? Nothing? Because he's grinning and you're blushing."

"The nickname pisses me off."

Amane grinned. "You know I saw the hickey as soon as you walked into my room, right?"

Ryou smacked the area that Mariku bit in the tub. He'd forgotten all about the damn thing. Mariku laughed, and the only reason Ryou didn't punch him again was because Amane sat between them.

"Personally," Amane continued, "I'm touched that you were willing to sacrifice your virginity just so I could meet my favorite artist."

"You know damn well I'm not a virgin."

"You might as well be. You're so damn picky."

Ryou rolled his eyes. It was a familiar argument between them. Amane had an odd obsession with trying to fix Ryou up with a boyfriend - he was rather sure it was so she felt like she wasn't leaving him alone when she died.

"I didn't sleep with him either."

"Sure. Uh-huh. Who would refuse Mariku Ishtar?"

"Your brother." Mariku stole another bite of cheesecake despite Amane trying to cockblock him with her fork.

"Yeah? How'd he get the hickey?"

"I bit him. He slapped me."

"Ryou, seriously, when did you become so violent?"

Ryou answered by taking another bite from Amane's vanilla bean cheesecake.

Amane grabbed her own bite, as if to defy the thieves surrounding her. Together they managed to clean Amane's plate, which seemed important somehow, that she didn't have to stare at the leftovers that she was too sick to eat.

Ryou wasn't sure when he fell asleep. One minute they were discussing watercolors by Amano - Ryou was able to join in on that conversation, he didn't know painters, but he knew Final Fantasy - and the next minute, his sister was shaking his shoulder.

"Ryou. Ryou, wake up."

"No." Ryou pushed the hand away. He was the type to wake up swinging, but had learned to temper himself with his sister because of late night trips to the ER.

And that thought made Ryou jump to his feet because he remembered where they were and why they shouldn't be there. "Amane?"

"Sorry." She offered him a queasy smile. "I thought I was hardcore, and could tell the system to fuck off ... but I feel like shit. I should probably go back to the hospital."

"We're leaving." Ryou rubbed his face, waking himself up.

"Cab is on its way," Mariku said.

Ryou glanced at him. "Thanks."

Mariku averted his eyes. He had the look of a teenager realizing actions had consequences for the first time. "Look, I'm-"

"No you're not. Not really," Ryou said. He didn't mean it harshly, though it sounded harsh coming from his mouth.

"Hey." Amane stood. She looked regal in her dying, a victim of the fairies more than disease. "I wanted out." She smiled and Ryou knew she hurt. "My last adventure, I guess."

She swayed. Ryou reached out to catch her, but it was Mariku who scooped her up and held her. He carried her to the elevator and Ryou followed him in silence.

"I'm okay," she said, but she didn't look it.

"Shut-up," Mariku muttered as they sank to the first floor in the rusty elevator.

Ryou expected Mariku to load Amane into the cab and send them on their way. He didn't know how to feel when he slipped into the seat with them, only releasing Amane in order to buckle her into the car.

"So here's the plan." Amane smiled. "We sneak me back inside, hook me back up to the rack, and pretend I never left. No one will be the wiser."

Ryou shook his head. He couldn't process the fathomable repercussions of taking a dying patient out of the hospital, perhaps they'd be charged with homicidal neglect, perhaps it didn't matter because Amane was legally an adult. It didn't matter. He just wanted her back.

No. He wanted her well, but that wouldn't happen so he wanted to selfishly cling to her as long as possible.

Every day it was just one more day, but then the next day came and he wanted that one as well. Even when she puked and only ate ice chips, even when her eyes bleared from the pain and Ryou knew he was being a selfish bastard for wanting her to go through all that for another day. He wanted it regardless. She was a three year old coloring on his bedroom walls with crayons. She was a twelve year old beating up bullies for calling Ryou a girl. She was a fifteen year old setting Ryou up with her friend because he'd wanted to go to senior prom without being made fun of for being gay. She was his sister. He remembered the day she was born. He did not want to see the day she would die.

The nurses rushed her back to her room. There was no official punishment, only lectures directed at Ryou for being irresponsible, for being a danger to her. He wanted to shove their papers and clipboards back into their faces and scream at them. They couldn't cure Amane. They could barely dull her pain with drugs, so why shouldn't she leave whenever she wished?

After an hour of being spoken to as if he were six, Ryou found himself sitting in a waiting room with CNN mumbling in the background on a television screen.

"Okay ..." Mariku muttered, and it wasn't until that moment that Ryou even realized Mariku was still there. "I'm an asshole. I should have known better, and I should-"

"Do it again, if she ever asks."

"What?"

Ryou glanced to the side, studying Mariku's profile. "Fuck it. They can't save her. No use holding her prisoner."

"Listen, Bunny, I ... get it - well, not really I don't. It would take nineteen years to really get it, but on some level I understand why you went through so much trouble just so she can have a stupid painting on her wall. She's a muse." A soft laugh escaped Mariku. "Damn, pretentious brat, trying to add light to a universe with a brushstroke."

"Mariku." Ryou's voice grated in his throat. "I can't take this. Oh my God, she's going to . . .."

Ryou did finish the sentence, couldn't finish it. He curled against his lap and trembled with the weight of his last sentence.

He felt a hand petting his hair. "Bunny, why are you here alone? Where's your family?"

"Amane is my family. Mother died in a car crash when Amane was five. My father hid in his work. He's in Egypt right now. He says he'll come, but ... We know he won't. He doesn't want to see her die, so he'll hide in his job and pretend everything is fine."

Mariku snorted, bitter and wounded. "Dad in Egypt, say no more. I already hate the guy."

Ryou glanced his question at Mariku.

The artist shrugged. "I'm half Egyptian. My father came here for work, stayed for drugs."

"Your scars," Ryou whispered.

"He was high on heroine. Thought he was some chosen protector of an ancient pharaoh. Thought he was carving hieroglyphs into my back, but really he was just scribbling with his knife. CPS took me away for a few weeks, but they gave me back once he got out of rehab. He OD'd the week after that and died. "

"Oh my God. How old were you?"

"Ten. That's when I started painting. You can push everything else away when you're painting."

Ryou took Mariku's hand, needing the comfort more than giving it.

"I hate all things Egyptian," Mariku said.

"Me too. Fuck our dads, right?"

Mariku stood up, squeezing Ryou's hands before letting go. "I'm going home and painting."

Ryou nodded.

"Hey, Bunny?"

"Yeah?" Ryou answered, horrified at how the nickname was starting to sound sweet.

"My place is close, so if you need a nap, or a shower or something ..."

"I might take you up on that sometime."

Mariku looked surprised at Ryou's answer, then grinned. "Later, Bunny."