I decided to get this chapter uploaded pretty quickly as it's sort of a filler. It focusses a little more on Marik's past but don't worry, the next chapter has enough action for this one and itself! Thanks to everyone who's been reading this story so far, I hope you enjoy this instalment. Please leave a review, I'd love to know what you think!

Lakeyes123: Your review made me very happy, I'm glad you like my writing! :) Plot twists are my speciality and that one was way too fun to write ;) (Also I've never PM'd before so I'm not actually sure XD )

Chapter 4- The Aftermath

Marik awoke to the sound of birdsong, which was rather unusual yet rather pleasant. He turned over sleepily towards the sound of the noise before a realisation hit him. He wasn't in his bed.

The Egyptian opened his eyes and shot up: startling the small flock of birds that were milling around at his feet. He instinctively threw his hands up to shield the harsh light that hit him, and it was only after a minute of careful adjustment that he was finally able to make out his surroundings. There were trees, grass and a rather inquisitive looking sparrow a few meters away from him.

Marik had fallen asleep on a bench in the park.

He stood slowly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and the dryness if his throat. Getting his bearings, he managed to work out which direction his home was and headed that way, trying to straighten his rumpled clothes on the way. He struggled to remember the events of last night: it was clear he'd had a lot more than he was supposed to if the headache was anything to go by. He recalled drinking and laughing with Ryou, and he could dimly recollect the stranger's face, whose name was… Mariku, that was it.

Marik remembered dancing with the man and kissing him. He stopped dead. Had he really kissed another guy? He groaned, and vowed to himself never to let Ryou buy his drinks again. He couldn't really remember much about the kiss for he had been too far gone, but it hadn't seemed that bad at the time. Of course it brought up awkward questions concerning his sexuality, but Marik decided to ignore them for the time being.

Resuming his walk, Marik then recalled what had happened next. They had been making out before some absolute idiot had gone and poured their drink all over the pair of them. Marik put a hand up to his hair: sure enough it was still a little sticky and no doubt looked terrible. Mariku had gone absolutely crazy, yelling insults and curses and the person responsible, who was sadly nowhere to be seen. They had parted ways after that, neither of them willing to remain in the club in the state they were in.

Marik had headed to the toilets to attempt to clean up, and with nobody with him, he assumed that he had headed out of the club and ended up at the park. He couldn't really remember much after the drink had been poured on them: he did hope he hadn't done anything too embarrassing.

He continued to think about the night before as he left the park and entered the suburbs of Domino. Why had Ryou been crying? The thought came to him before he could even picture his housemate, but as he thought it the image of Ryou hiding behind Jonouchi sprang to mind. He could only assume Ryou had left with Jou soon after, and Marik felt a little guilty for not having stopped them. After all, it seemed to have been his fault Ryou was so upset.

Marik continued to ponder this particular mystery as he continued home, and within the hour he found himself on the front steps and none the wiser. Luckily he still had his wallet, phone and keys, so he was able to gain entrance to the apartment. Setting his keys down on the table he checked around the apartment to find Ryou wasn't there. Instead a note was on the kitchen table.

'Marik, I've gone to class, will be back later. We need to talk. Ryou.'

Marik gulped. That didn't sound good. For some reason he had managed to anger the small teen and he didn't even know why. Unable to come up with an answer, Marik put the note in the bin and headed to the fridge. Half a bottle of orange juice and some toast later, not to mention several ibuprofens, Marik decided to clean himself up before retreating to his studio for a few hours. Checking the clock he realised it was close to midday, it was no surprise Ryou was already in class: he had probably been up in hours already.

He headed to his room where he collected a fresh set of comfortable clothes and, after a little struggle to find some matching socks, entered the bathroom. The shower helped drive away the headache somewhat, and once the stickiness was out of his hair he switched the shower off and towelled himself dry. After putting on the clean clothes and fixing his hair Marik quickly checked his phone to see if he had any texts. He didn't. Sighing he put the phone back in his pocket and headed to the kitchen.

Marik grabbed some biscuits to keep him going and a cup of water before walking down the hall and opening a door about halfway down. He smiled at the sight before him. Paintings, all his own, adorned the walls of his studio, giving the room a vibrant and colourful feel. After so many years with only plain, beige walls for company, Marik loved to experiment with different shades of colour, ranging from dark, smoky greys to bright yellows and reds.

A rather battered dark red sofa ran across the right wall of the small room, across from the window on the left wall. Ryou sometimes sat on it when he wanted to watch Marik work or needed to talk, and Marik himself had spent many hours there searching for inspiration for his next piece.

There was a single large cabinet in the corner of the room that held all his supplies: pencils, crayons, canvases and different kinds of papers, and of course, his beloved paint box. Marik enjoyed most forms of traditional art, but painting was definitely his favourite. The box held not only a whole rainbow of paints and brushes: it was also home to the small pad of paper Ishizu had given him in Egypt all those years ago. It was full now, full of the first ever drawings and sketches Marik had done when he had first started out.

The Egyptian often liked to skim through the pages, admiring certain drawings and smiling fondly at others. His favourite was one towards the end of the book, completed about four years ago when he was still a relative beginner. It was one of himself and his two siblings, drawn from memory and shaded with the same pencil. They were stood side by side as though in front of a camera, and they were all laughing together. There were some mistakes, of course, like the fact that Odion's smile didn't resemble reality and Ishizu's hair was shaded oddly, but Marik loved it all the same. There were no photos of him and his siblings: to him this was the next best thing.

Marik set down his biscuits on the small table near the door before placing the cup of water on another table next to his easel, which sat in the centre of the room. The easel currently held his latest piece, which was still just a sketch but ready for its first layer of paint. It depicted the park Marik had found himself in earlier, but it was at the far end of the grassy area, where a small pond was located.

The pond was the focus of the sketch, with the trees and flowers added in almost as an afterthought, even though Marik knew that he had placed everything correctly as it existed in real life. Not many people knew the pond existed, as the park was rather large and people tended not to venture far enough to find it. Marik had been thinking one day whilst walking and before he knew it he had walked the length of the park and stumbled across the place by accident.

He often zoned out of reality whilst thinking, and while the thoughts could be rather productive in sorting things out, they had often got him into some interesting situations. The little pond surrounded by trees was one of them.

Retrieving his paint box from the cabinet and setting it next to the cup of water, Marik debated which colours he would need to start with. He was painting the scene at the time of sunset, so although he would need greens for the surroundings, he would require warmer colours for the sky and the light the sun cast. As he was searching though the box a specific tube of paint caught his eye. At first glance it was brown, but on closer inspection it was redder than plain brown: as though the two colours had mixed perfectly to form an entirely new shade. Marik picked up the tube. The colour reminded him of…

Bakura's eyes.

The Egyptian sighed. Was he ever going to get that annoying man out of his head? At this rate it seemed highly unlikely. Truthfully Marik hadn't really thought too much about him since he left the house last night with Ryou, and when they had got to the bar he had had other things on his mind, but at the sight of the colourful paint his mind had gone right back to Bakura. He sighed ruefully. He was going to have to deal with those thoughts sometime in the near future, even if he was never going to see the driver again, which was a distinct possibility.

Marik put the tube back before determinedly sorting out the other colours and mixing them to make the correct shades. Then, with one last glance at the red-brown tube, Marik began painting.

It didn't take long for him to become totally absorbed in his work. The flow of the brush as it blended colour on the canvas blocked out all other thoughts in Marik's mind. He barely noticed the time pass as he worked to complete the first coat of colour, and it wasn't until he was three quarters of the way down the large canvas that he paused for a few moments. Standing back the painting really didn't look that impressive, but this didn't bother Marik: the real magic came when he was a few layers into the work and he was finally getting the effect he wanted. Right now it seemed to be a mess of green and orange, but that would soon change.

He grabbed a few biscuits before looking at the time: three in the afternoon. Ryou would be home soon as the university finished early on Fridays. Marik sighed as he realised he wouldn't be able to finish the first coat before his housemate returned, and regretfully went to wash his palette and brushes.

He was just returning the paint box to its rightful place in the cabinet when he heard the front door slam: Ryou was home. Marik quietly closed the door to the studio and stood in the hall for a second. He was about to find out what he had done wrong last night, but honestly he wouldn't have minded prolonging the moment of truth. Taking a deep breath, he headed down to the kitchen where he could hear Ryou moving around.

On entering the room he could see that the next few minutes were going to be pretty painful for him. His small house mate was making himself tea, and by the looks of it everything he touched had personally offended him. As he slammed the kettle down and yanked open the cupboard door to get the sugar Marik decided to intervene before Ryou broke something.

He cleared his throat and stepped further into the kitchen, causing Ryou to whirl round, brandishing a spoon threateningly. On seeing it was only Marik, his expression changed to one of sadness briefly before reverting back to its angry state.

"So you made it back then," he said haughtily as he turned back to his drink.

"Yeah I did. Ryou, what's going on?"

The white haired boy made him wait for an answer as he finished making his tea. After slowly putting the milk back in the fridge he turned to Marik again.

"You really don't know?"

Marik shook his head.

"Do you even remember who you were with last night?"

This time Marik nodded. The gesture alone made Ryou's eyes narrow.

"Do you know who he is?"

Marik was confused now. Was this guy famous or something? "He said his name was Mariku… I don't really know much else."

"Did you not stop for one minute to realise he was the guy I liked? That he fit my description perfectly? Did you not think that I might be a little hurt to see you practically molesting him right in front of me?" Ryou's face was turning red and he looked close to tears. "No, you didn't!" he carried on. "You just went and stole him, didn't you?"

Marik was shocked. The thought hadn't even crossed his mind, but now he thought back to Ryou's description…

"Oh my God, Ryou, I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I had no idea…"

"Of course you didn't!" Ryou practically screamed. "Because I wouldn't let you look at him in case it drove him off! I was so stupid, it's my fault and now I'm just angry at myself for being so hopeful about him. It's quite clear that I'm not even close to his type so I suppose I should just forget about it." Ryou's anger seemed to be fading fast, replaced by guilt and sadness. "I wish we'd never gone, I've been so wrong." He tailed off and looked away.

Marik, for his part, felt awful. He couldn't believe he hadn't recognised the man by Ryou's description: he had even been wearing all black for God's sake! Slowly he moved round the table and held his arms out to Ryou for a hug. The smaller boy looked at him for a second before putting his mug down and accepting the embrace.

"I'm so sorry," Marik whispered. "If I'd have known I would never have even talked to him. I should have realised." He felt Ryou sniff slightly and his guilt increased. How could he have been so insensitive? "If I'd had any idea I would never…"

He was interrupted by Ryou pulling away and wiping his eyes. "It doesn't matter, Marik. I don't have a claim to him so I guess I should stop acting like a jealous boyfriend." He gave a weak smile. "I'm sorry for shouting at you, I was just upset."

Marik nodded. "I know, even though I feel awful about it. It'll not happen again. Especially not tonight."

"Tonight?" Ryou looked confused. "What's happening tonight?"

"I need to apologise somehow, don't I?" Marik said, smiling. "First round is on me?"

Ryou looked at him before realisation kicked in. "Do you really think that's such a good idea, Mar'?"

"Of course it is! I mean I got a drink poured on my head last time and I really don't think things can go worse than that in the space of a night."

Ryou's eyes widened. "You got a drink poured on you?"

"Yeah, some idiot obviously felt like being homophobic or something, it took ages to get out of my hair this morning."

Ryou thought about this before laughing weakly. He knew what the Egyptian was like where his hair was concerned.

"So what time did you get home?" he asked as he picked up his mug and took a sip.

"Around midday I think. I, um, slept on a park bench…"

"What?"

"Yeah…"

Ryou looked at him in slight shock. "So you two didn't…"

Realising what he was implying Marik frantically shook his head. "No, he left as soon as we got attacked, I don't think he was even that bothered about me. It was only a few minutes after you'd left, I think."

Nodding, his housemate said, "Well if you want to go back I suppose we can go back. If you're right about him not being too bothered then maybe…" Ryou seemed to realise he was still talking aloud and quickly shut up, leaving Marik to guess what he had been about to say.

Truth be told he was a little concerned about Ryou's attention towards Mariku. He didn't think the tall man was particularly bothered about commitment, and he happened to know that was what Ryou craved from a relationship. He hoped Ryou wouldn't end up hurt by all of this.

"We'll go out around the same time as last night then," Marik said, breaking the silence, and Ryou nodded in agreement.

"Don't forget it's your turn to cook," he said distantly before heading off towards the living room. Marik heard the TV being switched on and decided to leave Ryou to his thoughts.

Anyway, he needed to start the food soon if he wanted enough time to get ready for the evening.