I'm so sorry this chapter took so long! I know it's been ages since the last one but I've had a terrible case of writer's block and I really couldn't get this chapter to work. I still don't like it much, it's been written in bits throughout the year, but it's finally done. Thanks so much to the lovely people who have reviewed this story, every time I got a comment I found myself forcing myself to write more, so here you go! I will be trying to update soon, so thank you so much to everyone for sticking with it, I promised this story wouldn't be abandoned and I stand by that!
Enjoy the chapter, I would love to hear what you think!
DustyStars
Marik worked through the whole day on the first piece of his commission. Kisara had said she wanted regular updates to see how he was going with the work since he was working to the deadline, and Marik had no intention of slacking. Finally, his life was looking up.
He finally had a job that he loved, and even though it was temporary he was sure if he performed well enough he'd be able to get more projects to work on. Ryou was finally recovered from the events of a few months ago and was doing well at university and Bakura… Well, Bakura had come back into Marik's life and seemed fairly happy to stay for the time being.
Marik smiled as he sketched out the plan for his first piece. It was going to be quite a simple one: a redo of the picture he drew of himself, Ishizu and Odion all those years ago, but painted with the high quality materials he was intending on getting.
The painting was going to be simply entitled, 'Family'.
Marik wasn't too sure what the rest of the pieces were going to be. He knew there was going to be a piece featuring Ryou and himself, and perhaps one of the apartment they lived in, but as for the other ones? Marik wasn't sure where to even start.
After he had been sketching onto the canvas for about an hour, Ryou entered the room, smiling.
"Hey, Marik, you're up early."
"Ry, it's already eleven o'clock."
"Yeah? That's still pretty early…" Ryou said, pouting slightly.
Marik looked up from the base of his painting to see that his friend had clearly just rolled out of bed.
"Don't you have a lecture or something today?"
"Nope," said Ryou happily. "Normally I would but our teacher is away this week so we get the day off. I'm heading to Yugi's later though to do some work."
"Lucky for some," Marik muttered, returning to his sketch. He heard Ryou moving around the room, no doubt to investigate the various sketches Marik had pinned to the walls for inspiration. Many of them he had already showed Kisara, and she had encouraged him to work on some of them more to turn them into full paintings.
"Which ones are you going to do?" Ryou asked curiously as he examined a small picture of a landscape.
"Not sure yet," Marik said vaguely, absorbed in his work. There was a piece of Ishizu's hair that just wasn't going right and it was starting to frustrate him.
Ryou smiled at his friend's distant answer and continued looking around the walls. His eyes fell on the sketch he had seen yesterday morning that he had at first mistaken for himself, but on closer inspection he suddenly realised who it was. The spiked hair, the narrow eyes…
"Are you going to paint Bakura?"
Marik's pencil slipped and an ugly line appeared down the side of his sister's unfinished face. "What?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Marik!" Ryou cried, realising what he had made his friend do. "I just saw this sketch and recognised who it was, I'm sorry!"
Marik sighed as he hunted around for his eraser, which had fallen off the edge of the table. "Don't worry about it, I guess I was just a little startled by the name." Honestly, Marik had been trying not the think about the white haired man while working, he did make a very good distraction.
Bakura hadn't replied to Marik's text last night, leaving the latter not knowing when, or even if, the former was going to be coming over later. For some reason this irked Marik, who liked to know what was going on and when, and so to ensure he was able to do his work in peace he had resolved not to think about the whole issue.
"He apologised to me, you know," Ryou said as Marik ducked under the table in search of the lost object.
"Really?"
"Yeah, yesterday when you ran into the kitchen. Apparently Mariku has always been a little bit out of it, but Bakura didn't realise he was still as bad as he is. He was actually really kind to me about the whole thing, so I forgave him."
"That's great," Marik said distantly, still trying to find the elusive eraser.
"In fact he said he'd probably be seeing me again soon," Ryou continued, and was unaware as Marik froze under the table. "Wonder what he meant by that."
"Um, cool." Marik slowly regained the use of his limbs and finally found the eraser behind one of the table legs. Straightening up he tried to look indifferent and smiled at Ryou. Internally though, his mind was trying going through all the connotations of the comment.
Did Bakura actually like Ryou more than Marik? Was that what he had meant? Or was he trying to hint to Ryou that he would be coming round the apartment more often to see Marik? Trying not to go along with that particular train of thought lest it lead to disappointment, Marik attempted to continue with his sketch and not look at Ryou.
"I knew it."
"What?" Marik looked up at the sound of triumph in his house mate's voice. "Know what?"
"You and Bakura," Ryou said, an almost devilish smirk on his normally passive features.
"What about us?" Marik asked warily.
"Oh come on, you should have seen your face when I said Bakura may be seeing me more often, you're jealous, aren't you?"
Marik blushed. Of course he wasn't jealous! Before he could vocalise this fact, however, Ryou continued talking.
"Though there's nothing to be jealous about, Mar', I believe he was actually referring to him coming over to the apartment more often to talk to you."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Marik said, trying to hide the slowly rising blush on his face. "Just because I gave him my number doesn't mean he's going to be coming over more often."
Ryou just fixed him with a piercing stare until Marik relented.
"Okay, fine. He's probably coming over later today after work," he said quickly. "But it doesn't mean anything!"
Ryou continued staring at him.
"Oh shut up!" Marik said, pretending to be annoyed with his friend.
"I didn't say anything," Ryou replied, trying to hold back a laugh as Marik attempted to focus on his sketching once again. "When's he coming over?"
"I don't know," Marik said vaguely, and Ryou could sense he was getting lost in his drawing again. Deciding not to distract his housemate with more talk he left the room in favour of revising one of his set texts for an upcoming exam he had.
Alone once again, Marik was able to concentrate fully on the finer details of his first commission piece, and a few hours later he was ready to begin applying the first layer of paint to his work. Smiling at his efforts he was about to head over to his storage area when he heard the doorbell ringing through the apartment.
His thoughts instantly turned to Bakura, but on checking his watch he saw it was only four o'clock- the white haired man wouldn't have finished his shift yet. Still, Marik headed out of the room and down the hall to the front door, his curiosity getting the better of him. Perhaps Bakura had managed to get off his shift early or something.
Ryou was already at the door and about to open it when Marik got there, but after exchanging a look the white-haired boy smiled slightly and headed off into the kitchen again, leaving Marik to get the door. Struggling to keep his own smile off his face, Marik opened the door to find none other than Bakura stood outside.
"You're early," he said, trying not to sound too happy. "You get off work early?"
"Something like that," came the reply.
It took Marik a moment to realise something was wrong. Bakura was dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, only now they were rather dirty and bloodied and he appeared to have misplaced his coat. There were pronounced bags under his eyes and the expression on his face could only be described as pained.
"Hey, are you ok?" Marik asked, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. "No offence, but you look like shit."
A wry smile broke out onto Bakura's drawn features and he appeared to be thinking how best to answer the question. "I've been better," he conceded eventually. "You could say I had a rough night."
Marik nodded slowly before stepping aside to allow Bakura to enter.
"Do you… Um, do you want to take a shower or something?" he asked awkwardly as Bakura began to unlace his sneakers. "I can find you some clean clothes if you like and you can tell me what happened…"
Bakura froze, and Marik suddenly had the impression that he'd managed to say something wrong. The white haired man stayed still for a moment longer before straightening up and, avoiding Marik's eyes, began to back away.
"What are you doing?" Marik asked, his voice rising in pitch.
"I shouldn't be here," Bakura said hurriedly, still refusing to meet Marik's gaze. "This was a mistake, I should have stayed away." He began to turn away and reach for the door handle.
Marik didn't think, he instinctively reached out and grabbed Bakura's arm. "Hey, don't go!" His voice came out more of a plea than a command, but he didn't care. Something big had clearly happened and even if Bakura didn't want to tell him what was wrong it was clear that he needed someone to help him through it.
Bakura stopped with his hand still on the doorknob, head turned away from Marik so it was impossible to read his expression.
"This was a mistake," he repeated again, quieter this time.
"What was?" Marik asked desperately, still not releasing his grip on Bakura's arm.
"Everything," Bakura whispered. Without warning he sunk against the doorframe, letting his hand fall to his side and bowing his head.
Marik was at a total loss. What on earth was going on? This wasn't the Bakura he knew, the one with the don't-give-a-crap attitude who didn't let anything get to him- this was like talking to a different person.
"You don't want to associate with me, Marik," Bakura said, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not a good person."
Marik's eyes narrowed. "Then why did you come here?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice level. "We agreed we would get to know each other better yet you're already putting up barriers. It's almost like you're scared!"
Bakura's head shot up at this and Marik was taken aback by the intensity of his stare. "I came here because I felt as though I had nowhere else to go," he said after a moment, voice bordering on anger. "But I realise now that all I'll do is drag you into things you should stay out of and I should just leave you to get on with your life. I don't deserve your kindness or charity!"
Marik could sense that Bakura was on the edge of a breakdown- his voice was getting louder and he had begun shaking. So he did the only thing he thought might help. He pulled Bakura into a hug.
The white haired man went tense for a moment before slowly beginning to relax into Marik, allowing himself to calm down and let the anger fade away.
"Stop saying things like that," Marik said quietly. "I want to associate with you, I thought that much was clear. I don't want you to leave and I want you to stop thinking so negatively. I don't know what happened last night but I can tell it's affected you badly, so you need to calm down and let me help you, please." Marik could feel Bakura shaking slightly, but the tremors were less than they had been and it seemed as though he was calming down.
The Egyptian was about to say something else when a small cough from behind him distracted him. Bakura shot out of the embrace and Marik turned to see Ryou's head peering out through the kitchen door.
"Is everything ok?" he asked timidly. "I heard raised voices…"
Marik thought before answering. Clearly Bakura needed help, but whether he would accept it or not was another matter. He appeared to be rational now though, and if Marik could get him cleaned up a bit perhaps he would be more willing to talk. Bakura had turned to face the door again, but didn't look as though he was about to leave, so Marik made a decision and quickly walked over to his housemate.
"Would Bakura be able to borrow some of your clothes?" he asked quietly. "He's had a rough time and will be staying for a while. I think something big happened."
Ryou's eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded in acceptance and headed off down the corridor without question, leaving Marik alone with Bakura.
"Come on," he said quietly to the man slumped against the door. "You need help, and I'm going to give it to you."
Bakura sighed and turned to face Marik. "I can't tell you what you want to know," he said in a resigned voice. "Not yet. I just want you to know that."
Marik nodded. "I thought as much. But regardless I want to help you."
There was a moment of silence in which Bakura appeared to be fighting an internal battle- as though half of him was still considering bolting out of the door.
After a few seconds, however, he simply said: "Then… Thank you."
Marik smiled slightly as Bakura finally moved away from the door and took his shoes off before following him down the hall to the bathroom.
"You can use anything in there," Marik said, opening the door. "There are some medicines in the cupboard if you need any and Ryou has some clothes for you when you're done. I'll be in the room down the hall when you're ready."
Bakura nodded slightly and entered the bathroom, hearing Marik head off down the corridor behind him. He shut the door and looked around to confirm that he was alone before he sank to the floor and closed his eyes.
The last twenty four hours had been hell. After he had stormed out of the house to get away from Akefia, Bakura had found himself with no money, no food and no shelter for the night. He would have gone over to Mariku's apartment, but he was fairly certain he would have ended up in a fight with him as the tall Egyptian could hold one hell of a grudge, and Bakura had punched him in the face last time they had spoken.
And so Bakura had spent a night in the park, Akefia's words still haunting him. The leader's words had got to him more than he could admit even to himeslf. Were they true? Should Bakura really remain in the house and take control, even though it was far beyond his capabilities? At least now he had some freedom to come and go when he pleased without hassle, was he within his rights to keep that after all Akefia had done for him?
Then the other accusations had flooded his brain no matter how hard he tried to keep them out. Was he really alone? Did he really have nothing in this world other than a tiny room in a house that should have been demolished years ago? Was he destined to spend his time drinking himself into an early grave, never doing anything with his life? It was true that Bakura spent most of the money he earned on alcohol, but the fact that it may have become a problem had never crossed his mind.
He blamed his past for his drinking habits. Alcohol helped keep the nightmares at bay and the thoughts out of his mind, even though he paid for it dearly the day after. It helped him forget.
And then the determination had kicked in. Laying alone in a small patch of trees in a deserted park watching the moon crossing the sky, Bakura had made a choice. He wasn't going to allow himself to become the person who died in obscurity; he was going to do something with his life, even if just to prove Akefia wrong. He was going to quit destroying his body just to forget, he was going to face up to his fears and overcome them even if it killed him.
With this promise in his mind, he had managed to fall into a light sleep, and when the sun rose Bakura had returned to the house to inform Akefia of his thoughts.
To say the ex-Egyptian had exploded would be an understatement. He looked as though he had done nothing but simmer since Bakura had stormed out and almost before Bakura had gotten his words out Akefia had gone into a fit of rage, throwing things across the room and shouting accusations. Bakura had attempted to reason with him until Akefia had finally grabbed a heavy candlestick and thrown it straight at him with alarming speed. Bakura hadn't been able to duck in time and found himself knocked to the ground.
"Get out," Akefia had said, looking down at his second on the floor. "If you have somewhere to go you seem like you would be happier there. So go."
Bakura had known there was no chance of arguing with Akefia in this state, hands curled into fists and murder in his eyes, so he had shoved the candlestick off of him and left the house, only stopping to pick up his smaller possessions from his room. A few of the younger kids looked at him strangely as he passed but he was in no mood to humour them. For the second time that week he left the house without a backwards glance.
And after wandering the streets lost in his own thoughts for a few hours, fighting an internal debate in his head, he had finally seized the courage to end up here. At Marik's. Even against his own better judgement he had come here, knowing he could never tell the Egyptian the truth, having no idea what to say and no idea how to repay him, but doing so anyway.
Bakura sighed and slowly opened his eyes. He was slumped on the floor against the door of the bathroom, head in his hands. He needed to get himself sorted out if he was to have any hope of being able to step out of the room and face life once more.
Slowly, he stood and undressed, turning the shower on and allowing it time to heat up whilst examining his injuries. There was a nasty looking cut on his forehead which was swelling into a bruise, no doubt from the candlestick earlier, and there were a number of smaller bruises and cuts on his arms and across his chest which would require attention. Sighing, Bakura stepped into the shower, wincing slightly as his cuts stung slightly, and allowed the dirt from the past couple of days to be washed away down the drain.
He remained in the shower for a long time, lost in his thoughts and staring at the paths the water made as they headed towards the drain. It calmed him slightly to watch them spiral away down the plug hole, carrying some of him pain with it. He wished memories could be swirled away like that, bad experiences just wiped away as though they had never happened. Life would be a lot kinder if such things were possible.
Bakura knew he couldn't stay for long here. He could beg for one night's respite, maybe two, and then he would have to be on his way again. The logical option would be for him to straighten things out with Mariku, at least then he would be able to bargain for somewhere more permanent to stay, but he was unwilling to get himself into another fight so soon. He couldn't go back to the house for some time though. His small corner room with the bed on the floor would have to do without him until he figured out a way to enter undetected. He had left his coat there, which he would rather like to get back, but he couldn't exactly waltz back in and take it; someone would be bound to snitch on him to Akefia.
Bakura sighed. He didn't want to think about anything like that now. He also didn't want to think about the probability of him being fired again, as he knew he should have been at work today and it was only a matter of time before his boss got fed up and gave him the sack. He had screwed up. Again.
Luckily, before he had time to venture too far down that particular road, there was a quiet knock at the bathroom door.
'There are some clothes that should fit you just outside the door,' a timid voice said, and Bakura recognised it as Ryou.
The smaller teen had spent about fifteen minutes searching through all his drawers to try and find some suitable clothes for Bakura, finally coming up with a pair of faded blue jeans and a blue and white striped top, which he had folded neatly before heading to the bathroom. Hearing Bakura's shouted thanks, Ryou retreated to Marik's room where he found the Egyptian sat on his bed, staring out of the window.
Marik looked up as Ryou entered and gave a small smile before turning back to the window. Ryou tentatively went to sit on the bed next to him, waiting until Marik had turned to face him before speaking.
'Are you ok?'
The Egyptain nodded slowly. 'I just hope I'm doing the right thing, Ry,' he said hesitantly. 'I don't know why I'm doing this or if there's even a logical explanation. I barely know the guy but I knew I couldn't just let him walk away, I feel like I have to help him or I'll always regret it. Even though he's warned me against it himself and I know I shouldn't care.' Marik paused, blushing slightly, allowing Ryou to process what he had just heard.
He was about to speak when Marik said abruptly, 'I think I like him.'
Ryou nodded slowly. Marik himself looked surprised with the certainty in his voice, nevertheless he wasn't taking the statement back, instead looking at Ryou with an almost challenging look, almost daring him to make a comment.
Ryou sighed. 'Well that took you long enough,' he said lightly.
'W-what?' Marik looked shocked. 'You knew?'
Ryou chuckled as he got off the bed. 'Of course, it was pretty obvious to be honest, though I would probably make sure he's alright before getting yourself into anything with him if I were you.'
Ignoring Marik's stare, Ryou headed to the door. 'I just heard the shower go off, so he should be out soon. I'm heading to Yugi's now and I'll be there most of the evening so you can find out if he's alright without worrying about me interrupting. See you later!'
Marik was too shocked to do more than nod slightly. Had he been so obvious? He couldn't have been! The realisation that he probably did actually like Bakura had only hit him a few moments before Ryou had entered his room, and even now he was still coming to terms with it. How could he have been obvious if he hadn't even known what he was doing? If Ryou had realised… Had Bakura also noticed? No, Ryou had only noticed because he knew Marik so well, right?
Besides, Marik decided that this realisation wouldn't change anything. He was fairly sure Bakura didn't like him back, the guy had proved he was pretty cynical and he obviously didn't trust Marik enough to talk about his past, plus they were about as different as chalk and cheese. No, Marik wouldn't act on his little crush, for he was determined that it would remain small and eventually die out, as Bakura clearly had other things on his mind right now and Marik had his commission to focus on.
He couldn't lose sight of his project.
Still, it couldn't hurt for Bakura to stay for a while; he looked like he needed it.
Marik heard the front door close behind Ryou just as the bathroom door opened, and he hastened off his bed and out into the corridor. Bakura was stood there, hair dripping slightly, dressed in one of Ryou's striped shirts and jeans, looking a little lost.
'Hey,' Marik said. 'Kitchen is that way.' He pointed down the hall, wondering when his voice had got so strained. Bakura nodded slightly and headed towards it, Marik following.
'How do you feel?' Marik asked once Bakura had seated himself at the table and Marik had set the kettle to boil.
'Slightly better, thanks,' Bakura replied quietly. 'My head hurts but other than that I'm fine.'
Marik took a note of the nasty bruise on the white haired man's forehead, looking more pronounced now the dirt had been washed away from the rest of his face. Bakura noticed him looking, and as he caught Marik's eye the latter turned away before the former could see him blushing slightly. Marik suddenly felt shy around Bakura, and he was worried that he would seem suspicious if he began acting out of the ordinary. Instead he busied himself with making tea for them both, making sure to keep his back turned as he heard a small chuckle from behind him.
'You want to know how I got it, don't you?'
Marik made a non-committal noise and shrugged.
'You understand that I can't tell you.'
It was a statement not a question, so Marik kept his silence until he set the tea on the table, earning a word of thanks from the Brit.
They sat in silence for a few minutes until Bakura finally spoke.
'I can't stay here for long, Marik. I have a lot of things to sort out. I don't really know why I came here.'
Marik set his cup down and folded his arms. 'I knew you were going to say something like that. And you probably know what my reply is.'
Bakura gave a ghost of his old smirk in return. 'You're going to tell me that I can stay for as long as I need and that I came here because I'm learning to put up with your company?' His smile widened slightly as Marik let out a laugh.
'Actually I was going to say the reason you came here is because you know I make awesome tea!' he snickered, before growing serious again. 'But honestly, what are you going to do? Because I know you aren't going to stay forever.'
Bakura considered this for a moment. 'I'm not sure,' he said hesitantly, staring into his drink. 'I have a few ideas, but none of them are particularly pleasant. I'm just trying to deal with each day as it comes, as I have done all my life.'
Marik nodded and let the matter drop. What mattered was that Bakura was here now, and despite the unusual circumstances, they were able to talk with relative ease as they finished their tea. Once done, Marik made Koshari for both of them before they headed into the living room to continue talking. The topics were superficial, both unwilling to talk about serious matters, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Ryou returned around half 11 to find the two sat on opposite ends of the sofa, laughing at some joke or other.
The sight made Ryou feel a sudden rush of loneliness, they looked so comfortable sat together, so at ease with one another's company. It seemed that Marik had managed to make Bakura feel a bit better after whatever ordeal he had faced the night before. Pushing back the strange feeling, Ryou bade them both goodnight and headed to bed, leaving them to it.
Bakura and Marik stayed up talking until the sun slowly started to rise, giving the room a slight, soft glow.
Noticing this, Marik asked for the time.
'It's five in the morning,' Bakura said after checking his phone.
'Oops,' was the only thing Marik said to that before he pulled a blanket over himself and curled up under it, falling almost instantly to sleep.
Bakura waited until the sun was almost fully up, watching the shadows be chased away and listening to the sound of the Egyptian boy's breathing, before finally doing the same thing himself, soon falling into a dreamless sleep.