Aaargh this chapter! I feel like you guys deserve so much better than this chapter- especially as it took so long to write. I've been back at uni for a few weeks now and that's taking up all my time, so I've had to write this whenever I've had a window of free time, which are few and far between! Anyway, I'm so sorry about the ending to the last chapter, I think I may have actually lost a couple of followers because of that… (I'm sorry, come back!)

Hope this chapter makes up for it, even though it's a little short compared to the others…

Reviewers! I love you all!

All the people who are worried about Ryou- I'm so sorry!

LaminateGem12: As always I loved reading your review. I'm so sorry I made you cry! *hands tissue and cookies* And yes, Ry was totally writing fanfiction. All the time, no question about it! Wonder what his OTP is… Haha me too- whenever I draw or write or work I have to have some sort of music going on in the background, otherwise I just get distracted by other things… That doesn't even make sense haha. Again, so sorry about the angst (not too much in this chappie!) and thanks again for the lovely review!

Anyway enough of me waffling- enjoy the chapter and feel free to leave a review!

DustyStars

Chapter 12-Shut Up

Beep… Beep… Beep…

'He's lucky to even be here.'

Beep… Beep...

'He's lost a lot of blood.'

'We'll be operating tomorrow to complete the transfusion.'

Beep… Beep…

'We can only hope that he makes it.'

'Do they know any more about the attacker?'

'No, they haven't been caught but they're looking.'

Beep… Beep…

'Poor boy.'

Beep.

Marik's eyes slowly opened, half blinded by the bright white walls of the hospital room. He had fallen asleep in the chair next to the single bed, the one which held Ryou. The boy looked terrible, pale skin barely contrasting with the sheets around him, various tubes stuck into his skin and hooked up to all kinds of monitors, most of which were letting out quiet beeps at regular intervals.

Marik sat up straighter and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He had felt awful yesterday after he had snapped at Ryou, partly because he knew he had been in the wrong and partly because he hadn't reacted like that in a long time. He had sat in the kitchen, unable to paint, waiting for his roommate to return.

But he hadn't. Instead Marik had received a call to the apartment telling him that his best friend had been shot almost fatally. He had raced to the hospital only to have to spend a tense few hours sat in a waiting room sick with worry, the life of his friend hanging by a thread.

When they had eventually told him that Ryou had survived he had sprinted into the room they directed him to, only to find that his friend was sleeping. He had apologised again and again, not caring whether Ryou could hear him or not, before slumping into the chair to wait for him to wake up.

And here he was, hours later, watching the sun rise through the small window in the room. He couldn't believe what consequences had come of his stupid actions. He had no idea it would come to this, there was no logical explanation for it- Ryou would never hurt anyone so why would someone try to kill him?

He put his head in his hands, unable to think straight what with everything going on. He felt… Helpless. Useless. Hopeless. All the things his father had made him feel he felt again. He stood and wandered over to the window, shielding his eyes against the light coming through. If Ryou didn't make it through this… He didn't know what he would do. He wouldn't even have anywhere to live anymore.

A quiet knock came from behind him and he turned to see a nurse stood in the doorway wearing an apologetic expression.

'I'm sorry, Mr Ishtar,' she said quietly. 'We're going to have to ask you to leave. He has to have one more operation and will likely spend the rest of the day unconscious and we would prefer for him to have as much peace and quiet as possible.' She caught sight of the look on his face. 'You can come back tomorrow, of course,' she reassured him. 'He may be awake by then.'

Marik nodded numbly and walked over to the chair he had recently vacated. Picking up his coat he cast one more look at his sleeping friend.

'I'm so sorry,' he whispered before he turned and walked out of the door and down the corridor. A few minutes later he was stood in the bright light of the sun, wondering what to do. There were just so many emotions and feelings in his head, buzzing like flies and making him unable to think. All the worry, guilt, fear, it was all building up inside him and if he wasn't careful it could overpower him.

He knew what to do.

He turned and walked as fast as he could back to the apartment, trying to avoid falling over his own feet on the way. He needed to get back before he cracked under the strain, before he did something stupid. Something about his mood must have shown on his face because people were moving out of the way for him, some shooting him concerned glanced. He didn't care- all he wanted to go was get back to the apartment. After what seemed like too long, he finally turned onto his road. The apartment was in sight. He stopped dead.

Someone was waiting outside. Someone with white hair wearing a long, black coat. Someone who clearly did not want to be seen.

'Bakura,' he said under his breath before he was running. The white haired man looked up as he heard Marik's quick footsteps and he stood immediately, looking around swiftly. There was a tense air around him as though he was a coiled spring, so when Marik crashed into him he staggered backwards, almost knocking his head into the door. The blonde wrapped his arms around Bakura without even thinking- he just needed something to hold onto as the tirade of feelings threatened to overwhelm him.

'Marik you need to get inside, it's not safe,' Bakura said quietly, fighting every instinct he had to wind his arms around the boy and hug him in return. They needed to get out of sight in case he was seen. After a couple of seconds where he thought the blonde was going to ignore him, he felt the arms around him loosen.

Marik was shaking slightly as he pulled away and he hurriedly got out his keys and opened the door. Bakura's tone had been urgent and Marik wasn't inclined to wait around discussing why. They entered and Marik locked the door behind him.

He turned around and suddenly found himself wrapped in a pair of arms, white hair obscuring his vision.

'How is he?' came a small voice from Marik's right.

'Alive,' Marik replied as his arms slowly found themselves returning the hug. However a second later he froze, pulling away.

'Wait, how do you know about that?'

He was watching Bakura as he spoke, so he was able to see the expressions on his face. Guilt, pain and anger were all there, and suddenly Marik realised that Bakura was shaking too, as though from shock.

'I saw it,' he said slowly, and so quietly that Marik almost couldn't hear him. 'I saw it happen. They were aiming for me but we look so alike…'

His voice dropped too quiet for Marik to be able to make out what he was saying, so he wordlessly led the other man into the living room where they sat down.

'I saw it,' Bakura said again. 'It was in the square, the perfect place. High buildings, no chance of being seen, good vantage points. I was in a side street hidden from view…'

They were watching for him from the tenth or eleventh floor of the building. Bakura had seen what he was looking for, slight movement in two opposite windows and the flash of weaponry. They never intended to let him leave this alive- clearly his tactics hadn't worked on them.

He checked the time- only a few minutes now. He wondered what they would do. Would they wait around for him to show, or would they go and hunt him down, checking all his regular hangouts for signs of him? It was impossible to say. He looked out across the square once more, only a few people milling around- nobody would be able to catch them from down here.

Something white flashed in his peripheral vision and he turned. His heart almost stopped. What was Ryou doing here? No, he couldn't be here, it was too dangerous, they looked so alike! He even had a dark coat on…

There was nothing he could do. He was forced to listen as the gun fired, forced to watch as the pale body fell to the ground in his stead and the blood leaked onto the cobbles. He kept his eyes fixed on the tenth floor as he heard screams and shouts around him. Someone was calling an ambulance but they would never get here in time. Finally, as he was about to give up hope, he saw the two small figures retreat away from the windows and the glint from the gun disappeared.

Bakura acted quickly. He sprinted to Ryou's side and knelt down, heart skipping a beat as he saw the boy's unblinking eyes. Then there was movement- Ryou was going into shock. He quickly shrugged off his own coat and bundled it up before pressing it to the wound in his chest, not being able to spare any time to expose it. He kept the pressure on as he spoke to Ryou quickly, taking hope from the way the boy's eyes flickered every now and then.

There was the sound of an ambulance siren in the distance, and a few minutes later he was surrounded by people pushing him away, holding medical equipment and wearing stressed expressions.

Bakura had melted into the crowd after that. There was nothing more he could do except try to deal with his guilt.

Marik's eyes had shut around halfway through Bakura's story and now he sat with his head in his hands, trying to understand what had happened. It was clear that Ryou's chance of survival would have been much lower had Bakura not been there but… Why had Bakura been there?

'Who was it?' Marik asked in a low voice. 'Who shot him?'

'Mariku and an acquaintance of mine,' came the reply. Bakura's voice was emotionless, as though he had no more to give. Marik opened his eyes to the sight of the man laying back against the sofa, eyes half closed and a drained look on his face.

The Egyptian was struggling to fit everything together in his head. There was something Bakura wasn't telling him for some reason and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to know or not. Marik felt the wave of hopelessness threatening to crash around him again and he stood suddenly.

'There's something I have to do,' he said abruptly, causing Bakura's eyes to widen. Without waiting for a reply Marik headed out of the room and straight to his art studio. He went over to the cupboard and pulled out colours at random, barely noticing which ones he picked. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he needed to get all this turbulence inside of him and put in on canvas. Carefully moving his unfinished piece off of his easel, he proceeded to grab a new one and set it up, registering that Bakura had quietly entered the room behind him and sat down.

Then Marik painted. He barely knew what his brush was doing- he just let all the worry, anger and guilt flow through onto the material in a mix of colours, dark greys and blues, purples and greens, heading towards the fiery red of anger and the softer colours of guilt.

He stood there for hours, brush in hand, daubing paint onto the canvas until it came alive with emotion and feeling. He didn't stop until the final piece of pale white had been covered with colour, and only then did he let out a deep breath, replacing his brush in the cup of water next to him and looking at his work properly for the first time.

The canvas was alive in front of him. A whirlwind of colours had hit the material, becoming an embodiment of everything Marik had been feeling. He saw the still-drying colours mixing and interlocking with each other to create an overall effect of turbulence in the centre of the canvas, the bold colours vying to be seen. As Marik's gaze progressed outwards the colours became calmer, the brush strokes gentler and the dark colours giving way to more neutral tones.

It was everything Marik had been feeling. Now he felt… Empty. As though all the feeling had been sucked out of him and placed on the square of colour in front of him.

He turned away from the drying paint and found Bakura sprawled on the sofa, eyes barely open. He hadn't spoken a word throughout Marik's work and the Egyptian strongly suspected he had fallen asleep at some point. Sensing Marik's gaze on him Bakura opened his eyes fully and sat up, running a hand through his hair before standing.

Looking past Marik he saw the canvas on the easel, eyes widening slightly as they took in the sight. Marik sat heavily on the sofa and put his head in his hands, past caring about what Bakura might think of his work. He was past caring about what anyone thought right now. He heard a sigh come from the other before he felt another weight on the sofa beside him.

A few seconds passed in which neither of them moved, before Marik felt an arm slowly go around his shoulder and Bakura moving closer towards him hesitantly.

'So that's what you've been feeling,' he said quietly. It was a statement not a question, so Marik remained silent and tried not to focus on the warmth of Bakura's hand on his shoulder.

'Tell me why you were there, Bakura.'

Unbeknownst to Marik the white haired man's eyes closed and he dipped his head in defeat. He had known there would come a point where he needed to tell Marik his recent past or have to leave him completely. It was now up to him- either trust Marik with where he used to live, the deal he had been offered by Mariku and why he had pretended to agree, or leave now and never return.

Bakura felt Marik lean a little closer into his side and made up his mind.

He told Marik everything right from his time in the abandoned house right up to the present. He left out no details, even speaking of his inability to hold down a job due to his drinking habits with Mariku. He explained why he had left the house and been unable to return, and how he had spent a night in the park because he had had nowhere to go. Finally he explained Mariku's other job and the offer he had put to Bakura, who had been forced to accept if he wanted to make it out of there alive.

All of the time he was talking he had his arm around the other boy, who said nothing throughout the explanation, choosing to keep his face hidden so Bakura couldn't see his reactions. After he had finished they sat in silence, the only noise coming from the radiator behind them as it heated up.

Bakura was trying not to force Marik to say anything quickly, but to say he was worried would be an understatement. Even though Marik hadn't done so yet, it was perfectly possible for the boy to kick him out and tell him never to return. After all Bakura had just admitted he was probably an alcoholic with no place to call his own. It would be enough to make anyone disgusted.

It was a few minutes before Marik moved, and Bakura was beginning to wonder whether he should just leave by himself, but when the Egyptian looked up there was no repulsion in his eyes. Instead they were filled with tears waiting to fall.

'What's wrong, Marik?' Bakura asked, worried that he was about to have an emotional breakdown of some kind.

'I had no idea what you were dealing with,' Marik said quietly, and his voice cracked on the last word. The first tear leaked its way out of his eye. 'You've had so much happen to you yet you're still here.'

Bakura held his watery gaze and smiled a bit. 'I guess I am,' he said quietly.

There was a pause as they continued looking at each other. Another tear fell to join the first.

'Thank you for trusting me,' Marik said finally, voice barely above a low whisper. 'I know you don't do that very easily.'

Bakura nodded his head fractionally. 'I never have.'

Marik leaned slightly closer, eyes still fixed on Bakura's russet ones. 'And you chose to trust me.'

Bakura felt himself move closer too. He was so close now he could see another tear threatening to fall- it was quivering on the edge of Marik's purple eye yet somehow managing to cling on.

'I guess I did.' It was barely above a whisper.

This was wrong- they shouldn't be doing this. There were other things they should be worrying about, and he was sure Marik knew as well but he didn't seem to care.

The Egyptian's eyes were closing. Bakura was leaning forwards. The tear fell. Their lips met.

There was a moment where neither of them moved. They just sat there, eyes closed, mouths pressed together lightly. For that split second Bakura could honestly say that his mind was completely blank. Then Marik moved.

He wound his arms around Bakura, pulling them closer as his mouth moved and he deepened the kiss. It was frantic, almost, as though he needed the contact, and the white haired man was more than happy to oblige. Marik let out a small moan as he pressed closer to Bakura, arms tightening around his neck, and Bakura responded by opening his mouth slightly, allowing Marik to take control.

He had no idea why Marik was doing this or where it was coming from, but at that moment he wasn't in any state to question it. It was difficult to focus when the blonde was swiping his tongue across the other's lips, forcing them to part further so he could access his mouth more. Especially when Marik let out another moan and pushed Bakura backwards, toppling them back onto the sofa with Bakura underneath the Egyptian.

Marik began to kiss him more urgently and Bakura responded, moving his hips up to meet the other's. Marik suddenly gasped and shot up, breaking the kiss.

They took a moment to look at each other, both flushed and panting slightly, neither willing to speak first. Finally Marik seemed to realise that he was still pinning Bakura down and hastened off the couch to stand awkwardly in the centre of the room.

'I'm so sorry,' he said quickly, determinedly not looking at Bakura. 'I don't know what came over me, I shouldn't have done that.'

He continued apologizing rapidly, still looking at the floor and blushing a bright red. Truthfully he had no idea why he had done it- it had just seemed on instinct to be the right thing to do. He heard Bakura sit up from the sofa and let out a sigh. Great, now he had messed things up and the white haired man was going to leave him and he was never going to see him again and-

His talking and his thoughts were cut short when Bakura appeared in front of him and put a hand under his chin and tilted his head up to look at him.

He waited for a couple of seconds to make sure Marik as paying attention before letting go, holding his gaze.

'Shut up,' he said simply, before reconnecting their lips once more.