He needed to stop. He needed to quit. Why was it so hard? Borderline addiction was always a bitch. You convince yourself it's a choice, and it sort of is, but then you find yourself always saying yes, even if you're body isn't craving it.
This night he was taking it slow, sticking to drinks and spliffs. His dopamine receptors still hadn't fully recovered. Best not to play with fire. Besides, the combination allowed him to knock off into a deep sleep most nights. He never felt fully rested, but at least he didn't dream. He hadn't dreamt in months. The days all blurred together lately. He hadn't really thought about anything in months. Not Amane, not Ryou, not his own sad existence, not even if he'd turned off the oven. Let the flat burn.
James never asked him about Marik or the fact that Bakura was spooning him in his bed. James was good like that. He did ask him something different though. James was his closest thing to a best mate for a reason. James understood the loneliness. The empty feeling. James also came from middle class neglect. "How's it going?"
"I'm here," the paralegal replied. James knew what that meant. He wished he could love James instead. That would be much simpler. No, love wasn't the word for it.
What to do about Marik? End it completely or go for it? The latter lead to being rejected twice, and the former never discouraged the blond. There was also the other half to consider. If he stayed with Marik, he'd be seeing him, too. Truthfully, Marik was too repressed. He wished the blond would just tell him to fuck off for eternity. That would be easier.
For now, they remained at a stalemate. Bakura dulled his pain. Marik dissociated. Marik fumed.
He'd deal with him tonight. It was nearing 1am, but he'd do it.
Hastily, he rose from his seat and gave the group a sloppy wave. He made his way to the tube. Surrounded by equally pissed people, he stumbled and swayed, slowly making his way to where Marik lived.
It was nearly 2 when he arrived. Bakura had to pound on his door until Marik opened it. The Egyptian looked surprised and pulled him in, shutting out the cold air. It would soon be December, their birthdays.
They silently went to Marik's room.
Bakura spoke, "You need to decide, Marik."
"You're drunk." Barely.
"Don't deflect. Your other half is getting tired of it and so am I frankly."
Marik bristled at that revelation, his fists clenching at his sides. "I can't believe you've been speaking with him."
"Marik, he is you." Bakura was starting to become exasperated. Three minutes. A new record for them.
"You woke me up." The blond did look unimpressed. Bare faced with mussed hair, he stood in a thick aubergine jumper and joggers that complemented his skin tone… focus, Bakura.
"Marik, this is going to be the last time."
The other stilled. "Wh…what?"
"We're deciding tonight. I can't put it off for much longer. We either end this or continue, but it's the last night I'm living in limbo. Don't you dare disassociate either or else he'll be pissed!"
Multiple emotions fluctuated on Marik's face. Bakura sighed.
"This is it, Marik. I'm not perfect. We both know that. I've done a lot of terrible things in my life, but I'd like to think you won't be one of them. If you say no, you'll never see me again. Not because of you but because of me. I wouldn't be able to handle it."
"Ba-"
"No, let me finish. I know you're concerned, but I'll be fine. Sure, I'll fuck around but it will pass. If you say yes, then this can continue and I'll stop. I'll do my best to stop everything bad and to get better. I'll even accept your demented half, but you need to decide. You have to tell me."
A long pause filled the air. He'd feel more anxious if it wasn't for his body's intoxicated state, but that was slowly fading away.
"What about you? What do you want?" the blond asked, a poorly masked avoidance tactic.
"Marik, how can you not fucking know by now?" Oh shit. It was happening. His eyes were brimming. Holy shit, this was not fucking happening. Why was this the moment where it would finally happen!? Internally, he panicked.
"I need you to say it," the blond replied.
"Marik…"
"You're asking a lot of me." Marik was determined.
Those words angered him and he did his best to remain calm. "I'm asking you to choose me. It shouldn't be a burden!"
Marik remained silent.
"Please let me go. Isn't it obvious? It's pathetic how much I do for you." He hated himself for speaking that truth. No one should make him feel this way.
"No," Marik stated.
"No?" He was sceptical. Marik always made it difficult.
"No, I'm not letting you go." This fucking wanker.
"But you're not saying yes either." He already knew the answer.
"I need to think."
Bakura gave a defeated laugh and shook his head. "You know…all along I felt bad for myself. How stupid I was to keep chasing after a silly boy. It's been months and you still need to think? You're a fucking imbecile. Your other half was right; you are weak. I tried. I really did-no don't start crying! Motherfucker." His vexation quickly melted into consolation.
It wasn't like before. Tears were silently streaming down the Egyptian's face. Bakura felt his resolve crumble again, but he couldn't, not this time… so why was he automatically all over the Egyptian, wiping his face in a half embrace? This is what Marik liked about him, the doting attention. Affection. Fuck.
"I'm sorry, Marik. We're terrible together. Let me go." The blond's grip tightened on him. "Please."
"I said no," Marik replied harsher than intended.
"I'm not going through this again." His voice was steady. His resolve was fading.
"No."
"Marik."
"Why don't you ever cry over me!?" the younger man retaliated. Believe me, I'm so fucking close.
"Marik, don't be daft." I spend all my time trying to forget you. "I'm passed the point of crying."
Another firm no. He knew Marik was coming soon. This Marik continued to hold onto his sides, glaring at his chest, saying nothing. Bakura did the same with a lighter grasp, waiting. The quiet was followed by a cry of frustration. "You fucking failed again!" He's back.
"I tried damned hard to break up with him!" the paralegal argued back.
"Oh, that's it, Bakura. You are really pissing me off!"
"Blame your-fucking-self!"
The Egyptian responded by giving him a rough shove which caused Bakura to fall back onto the bed. "Fucking do it right! I should be the main personality. He can't do anything for himself for fuck's sake!"
Bakura watched as the raging madman tried to calm himself, pacing back and forth in the small room. Ironic. Eventually, the blond rounded on him and pointed an accusatory finger. "Stop giving him the choice. Cry and leave. Or don't cry and leave. I don't care. Just give him a solid no. Stop hoping he's going to change."
"You're right. Is he really that flaky?"
"Yes." The blond sat down beside him. He could tell he was growing tired of all this bullshit, too.
A defeated sigh and this Marik was laying down beside him. "Let's go the fuck to sleep. There's no use figuring it out tonight. He won't be back for a while anyway."
Bakura nodded and let himself be drifted away. This was such a bizarre scenario.
He woke up to loud snoring, a heavy leg on top of his, an arm splayed across his face. This Marik took up all the room in bed.
Bakura rubbed his eyes and sighed. Nothing ever went to plan. Here he was, conspiring with a split personality that potentially wanted to fuck him? Or kill him? Bakura wasn't sure anymore. He'd been receiving many mixed signals lately. Or maybe he was just terrible at reading them.
He nudged the other Marik until he woke up. The Egyptian was already pissed anyway, so what difference would it make?
The blond responded by growling and gripping his shoulder tightly, bringing faces closer than he wanted. "I said you'd regret it."
"Maybe you should be the one to control him. Keep him away from me."
"What does he even see in you?" Human rubbish.
"I'm amazing," he responded.
The other man smirked. "Welcome back, dickhead."
Marik didn't move, still too close for comfort. Bakura wondered why he didn't want him this time, as much as he hated to admit from their previous encounters. Was he just too sad? Too sad to fuck? Had he finally reached rock bottom? It was cold down here.
"So where's your wrath?" he prodded.
The other frowned. "Honestly, there's no fun for me if you aren't into it." Marik finally let him go. There was his answer.
"I'm confused. Do you want us to break it off or not because, well, you're Marik? You want this, too. Don't you?" It was time to be blunt and face it head on. They were attracted to each other; it was the same bodies after all.
Hardened lavender eyes examined him. "Only in theory. Same for you. In practice, this is a nightmare." An astute observation.
"What will we do?"
"I suggest you stop talking before I hit you. I want to sleep." With that, the blond put a pillow over his own face, blocking out the world.
Bakura contemplated leaving. He didn't want to face Gemma, especially after everything. This is why you don't get involved with people. Everything was so much easier when he didn't care. This entire situation…he just had to fuck around and find out.
Maybe he could suffocate Marik. Both of them, right here, right now. Put them all out of their misery. Prison wouldn't be so bad.
He checked his phone. Missed calls and messages for days, weeks even. He only bothered answering James and co. He'd have to answer Ryou eventually. He couldn't just stay here for hours. Then he'd have to think! And that was a very bad idea right now. Maybe smothering Marik would work, wake him.
Quickly, he straddled the other man and pressed down on the pillow. Instantly, Marik struggled and began to flail. Muffled screams came from the pillow as hands reached out, clawing at him. Finally, a hard push got him off.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" The blond was infuriated, breathing heavily.
"I'm not waiting all day for-" Bakura was swiftly kicked off the bed, falling over the edge. His body clumsily hit the floor.
"Oh, I'd so murder you if it didn't mean I'd be locked up again," Marik spat back. Again? The blond was looking down at him from the edge of the bed, his eyes narrower than usual.
"Just tell me the plan, Marik." His body felt sore. He desperately wanted to go home.
"The plan is we both stay the fuck away." A tan hand suddenly fell, index tracing his jaw, a sharp contrast to its owner's speech.
He felt a small jolt run up his spine. Delicate contact and nefarious intents. "This is what I meant earlier. What do you even want?"
The blond retracted his hand. "To not be like this. It's his fault. Leave before I do something I'll regret."
That could have meant anything. He left.
Bakura isolated himself over the next week. He spent his days curled up on the sofa, watching old Peep Show episodes. The age-old question 'Are you a Mark or a Jez?' came to mind, both equally fucked up in their own ways. Even worse, he was a Super Hans.
He continued to ignore Marik and vice-versa. What a mistake all of that was. He winced at the memory of how close he was to actually saying…nothing really. It's a phase that will pass any minute now. He'll get bored soon enough.
It was back to life soon. He'd stop running to Marik. He'd start paying attention to his work again, the projects piling. He'd reduce his drug and alcohol consumption. He'd done it before. He's not completely screwed. He's fine. I can do this.
He'll stop thinking about that blond wanker soon enough. Truly.
The music was blaring in the background: Paranoia, paranoia - Everybody's coming to get me. He reached over and took a drink from his cider can.
So why did he fucking miss him so much?