A/N: Just a quick note, although there is something developing between Bakura and Yami Marik, this fic will still mainly be thiefshipping.
Also, there might be more errors than usual. I'm very jetlagged
It was a weird night to say the least. They didn't find James, to his relief, but Marik continued to drag him around. He followed him outside for smoke breaks where they barely spoke. They were both in their own world.
Bakura remembered little of it. He couldn't let his guard down around that Marik in particular. Besides, what if he had to take care of him? Luckily nothing happened, and despite his incessant taunts, Marik didn't try anything on him. It seemed the blond simply enjoyed aggravating him by any means possible. That's what he told himself at least.
He'd resolve to call Ryou.
"You're alive."
"Who's your therapist?"
Silence. "Shit! You're finally going to do it."
He flinched against the phone. "Just tell me the damn name."
"Of course, I'm just shocked that's a-"
"Never mind. I changed my mind, Ryou" This was a stupid idea. He wasn't ready for that.
"No! No-" He hung up. That was close. Of course, Ryou immediately called back. He pressed the side button, sending every subsequent call to voicemail. Ryou gave up after the sixth try.
He wondered if the other Marik was back. He wondered if everyone else who managed to maintain a functional persona were also struggling on the inside. Telling themselves they were normal; it wasn't addiction yet. They could quit anytime. He wanted, needed that chemical buffer.
[7700-900391:
I am hungover and trying not to murder anyone at work]
[REPLY:
When will your meds be ready?]
[7700-900391:
Tomorrow and it won't stop fucking raining]
It was almost funny how much Marik complained about everything in his life. He claimed to be the resilient one.
[REPLY:
Didn't you want to be the dominant personality?]
[7700-900391:
Not like this]
[REPLY:
Just go home. Say you're sick]
He heard nothing from Marik until Tuesday. After work, waiting on that familiar bench. Same outfit, different demeanor.
Marik's dark circles rivaled his smudged eyeliner. "I don't remember this past week," he whispered but didn't dare look at Bakura.
The paralegal sighed and lit his cigarette. He should have felt happier in this moment, or maybe even sadder, but everything felt off. "I know."
"You've been talking to him again, haven't you? I saw the messages. He didn't bother to delete them."
"Marik, he is you," the older man shot back.
"No, I'm nothing like him," the blond stubbornly replied. "What did you do together?"
Months ago, he would have made some jab about Marik being jealous, but he was too tired. "Talked. Drank. Mainly talked. Tried not to kill each other." Tried not to fuck each other. "Nothing special."
"I was nearly sacked. Multiple customer complaints. Also, apparently, I dumped Ava. Let's just say it was an interesting week to wake up to. You must be happy about that last part."
"I'm not actually." Oh you bloody, stupid fool…
Marik chose to ignore that. "Anything else I should be made aware of?"
Bakura sat down beside him and took a long drag. Here goes attempt number three. "Listen, Marik. Really listen. Why do you run off every time we try to talk?"
"Because it makes me angry."
"Why?"
"It's you. You make me so angry all the time. You're always doing dumb things, like this stupid haircut." The blond waved his hand dramatically towards his head as he grasped for weak reasons. "Your constant smoking. Your face…"
"What about my face?"
"I hate it, too. I hate you, Bakura. I hate the way you make me feel." It was not lost on him how it nearly mirrored his own words back in October. But did they hold the same meaning? Would Marik dig his own grave until he'd have a revelation or was it real hatred? 'He's a coward.'
"That's what your other half says, too. Yet, you both keep coming back to me."
Marik's frown deepened. "I'm being serious, Bakura."
"So am I. Why don't you ever believe me?" 'Just tell him. Get it over with.' The words echoed in his head. Even in this moment, looking stressed on a bench, he found Marik captivating.
"You never look like you take anything seriously." I'm taking you more seriously than anyone.
"If you hate me so much, why won't you just let me go?" Bakura countered.
Marik said nothing, opting to look into the distance. The blond's hand reached out and placed itself on top of his own. Marik gave him a squeeze before standing up and walking away.
Bakura watched him silently, the forgotten cigarette dying between his fingers. It made Bakura want to dull his senses. Again. You bloody fucking fool.
Therapy was for wankers. He'd be fine. Ryou was exaggerating again.
Said man was looking at him disapprovingly. "Can you at least clean all that stuff off your table? I don't want Tarot accidentally eating any of it. I thought you were passed this."
The paralegal had just endured a ten minute lecture on how iced coffee was not a meal, that there was a burn mark on his sofa, and that he looked like he hadn't slept in a month. All were true.
"Ryou, just leave your dog and go. She'll be fine. Enjoy your nerd trip."
"It's a scholarly conference."
"Whatever. I'll keep her alive." The dog had gotten a little bigger now. She was busy in the corner, chewing on a toy. Ryou's little princess.
"What do you want for your birthday by the way?"
"Huh?"
"You know it's nearly your birthday, right?" And Marik's.
"I want my younger body back. The hangovers are getting worse."
"Ha. No, seriously."
Bakura actually hadn't given it a thought. "Honestly, nothing." A new life?
The dog pranced over excitedly and attempted to jump up on the sofa. He took another sip of his watered-down iced coffee. His other hand gave her a little pet. She responded by lightly biting his finger. He didn't react. This is what they did.
He was waiting for Ryou to leave so that he could walk the dog and pop a Valium. Courtesy of James's flatmate who was open to sharing just about anything. Benzos were not really his thing, but the few times he took them, it knocked him the fuck out. He just wanted to sleep tonight.
Ryou gave him a strange look. He felt scrutinized. "Sod off," Bakura told the brat.
"See you in two days."
He waited fifteen minutes to be sure that Ryou was fully out of the area, anticipation building. Yeah, he definitely didn't have any problems. This was normal. Taking other's prescription drugs were normal. Everyone in uni tried someone's ADHD meds in a last-ditch effort to write a dissertation at least once. Perfectly normal.
Quickly, he got Tarot ready and swallowed the pill. By the end of the hour, he'd be in bed.
It was an uneventful walk. Misty rain clung to his hair as his body slowly began to feel heavy. His reflexes were disappearing. The dog seemed to hate the rain as well. He grabbed a sandwich from Pret on the way home and quickly ate it on the sofa. The drowsiness was taking over. He knew he had to get to bed soon, but he'd lie down here for just a moment…
Another night without any dreams. He should be concerned by now, but he wasn't. Black empty nights were better than nightmares.
He woke up on the sofa. It was about 6am. Tarot had managed to get herself on top and was sleeping on his lap. One more day with the dog. He had to get ready for work in an hour. Those pills were intense.
Why didn't Ryou end up like him? He knew the prat had experimented before. Hell, they'd even done it together a few times. Now, he was off pretending to be a wizard or some shit. Scholarly conference. There were times where he was able to just try it and quit though.
Today, you will not drink. You will not smoke anything beyond a cigarette. You will eat a fruit and some veg. You will start to be somewhat healthy again. You're serious this time. You will get over Marik. He began his morning mantra. It had failed for the last month or so, but today, it would for sure work. Lies. As if he wouldn't jump if Marik asked. How fucking high? This fucking high. Fuck.
Clean the flat. Stress and obsess over something inconsequential. Go back to your pristine bullshit. This is the way. Have a mental breakdown later. It's all fine. You are functional.
The funny thing about functional people is that it's only an image meant to trick others.
His phone buzzed. Who the hell was messaging him this early?
[7700-900391:
Drinks later?]
Thank god, fucking yes. The sober life was not for him. He wanted that dazed euphoria.
[REPLY:
At 7]
He didn't care which Marik it was.
They sat inside a pub, a drink each and a plate of chips between them. Tarot was lying by Bakura's feet, bored. It was that Marik.
"It's getting easier to take control. I think we're at 50/50 again," the blond was explaining all too happily. If he was even capable of that emotion.
"I thought you hated being in control?"
"I said I hated being in control all the time. When I feel like it, it's fine," Marik clarified.
"I'm never getting rid of you, am I?" Bakura relented. The other smirked. For a second, he swore the student looked seductive. He shook his head. Not him, too.
Marik leaned over the table, too close. "You don't want that."
Bakura met him halfway, challengingly. "Clearly, you don't either."
"I just like seeing you sad." Slowly, Marik grabbed a chip and placed it in his mouth. Only then did the blond lean back and start chewing.
"What an odd thing to be turned on by." He wasn't going to let him mock him so easily. Not this time.
The Egyptian became quiet for a moment. His blank expression was replaced by a smug smile. He said nothing and took a sip of his drink. Bakura couldn't tell if this was another tactic to get under his skin. It had him feeling some kind of way.
A look of displeasure graced Marik's face as he took a quick peek under the table. "I'm tired of being surrounded by animals. I don't like animals."
"What do you like?" He didn't think the blond liked anything at this rate.
Surprisingly, Marik had a list ready. "Pizza. Horror films. Fight Club – yes, I know. I can definitely relate to that one. Breaking shit. Fucking with you. Rugby."
He wasn't going to reply to the one about him. "Rugby? Do you play?"
"Of course. It's the only time where tackling people is acceptable." Marik always managed to make his answers sound ordinary.
"I'm sure you love being groped by a bunch of strange men, too." Bakura took a sip of his drink.
The other laughed. It was booming and unexpected. "Stop projecting, Bakura. You could always join if you're that desperate."
"I'm not into sports much."
Marik ate a few more chips. "There's a whole other side that he's ignorant to. I have my own life. I keep us fit. The ingrate." Bakura wasn't expecting these small revelations.
"I didn't realise you resented him so much."
Marik shrugged. "That's just hating yourself. What's the use? I already figured that part out. He hasn't though."
Bakura nodded. He was starting to like, no, not like… respect him. That's not right either. Maybe accept his existence? All he had to do was stay on his side of the table tonight. He already had enough problems with one Marik. He didn't need for this one to go sour as well.
"You're trying to resist. I can tell," the blond spoke. The paralegal felt his face slowly drop. "It's the same look you would give him in the beginning. Sometimes, you look like you're in pain." The blond man chuckled, low and cruel.
"You really do enjoy torturing me."
Marik quickly leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. His face crept closer. Bakura held his breath but didn't back away. Was he… Sharply, the blond veered to the right to whisper in his ear. "Only cause it's you." Again, Marik gave a short laugh before standing up and heading to the toilet.
Bakura rubbed his face in his hands, cold against his warm skin. He felt Tarot readjust herself beneath him. He could also feel that familiar longing. Don't do it. Fuck!
He was talking himself up, or down, whichever direction led to the smoothest conclusion. Just go with it. It's fine, Bakura. Everyone leaves in the end anyway, you included. Lost in his mental musings, Marik returned and ate the final chip. "I know that look, too. Let's go back to yours."
His eyes widened. This was too easy. Was he that easy? This version of Marik made him feel like prey.
As they walked, Marik rambled on about rugby or some nonsense about how to sneakily throw in a punch during a tackle. Bakura wasn't listening. Didn't care. His thoughts were too pre-occupied with the fact that there was an actual chance they might fuck. He was really banking on it being another sadistic joke.
Every time Tarot stopped to sniff something, Marik groaned in annoyance. He even suggested abandoning the dog in a park. Sadly, Ryou would kill him.
They passed by the tube station near his flat. It suddenly became quiet. Marik had stopped talking and walking, so did Bakura. He turned around to face the other, ignoring the tugging lead.
Dulled lavender eyes stared into his intensely, appraisingly. This is the part where Marik would reveal the joke, right? Just for bants.
The world was still for a moment. The same misty rain from this passed week continued to annoy them, but he didn't blink. Marik's lips quirked into a lazy smile before emitting a dismissive snort. "You wouldn't be able to handle me. Goodnight, Bakura." With that, the blond turned around and descended the stairs.
Bakura said nothing. He felt relief and an ache. He wanted to run after him. If it wasn't for the dog, he just might have.