A week had gone by since their last meeting. To Bakura's disappointment, his time with Marik had been uneventful. Everything involving his other half seemed to be bothering the student deeply. Bakura wasn't really sure how to proceed. It was a delicate balance.

He was sitting at Natalie's table, drinking coffee. He had a ridiculous pair of blue eye patches on his face, supposedly very useful for fixing your face after a night of drinking. The only thing that brought him comfort was seeing Declan across the table from him wearing the same thing. She'd somehow convinced them. He had to admit it did feel nice.

"So you're gay now?" Declan asked.

The paralegal glared at Natalie. "You told him!?" She shrugged.

"Relax. I just want to know if you still like women."

His eyes returned to the man whom he felt lukewarm towards at best. "Yes."

"It just means more options for you," Declan offered with a smile.

"Whatever," he muttered.

"Maybe you should invite him out next time?" Thinking back to their most recent outing, he was positive Marik would say no.

"It doesn't work like that."

"Oh, it's that kind of arrangement."

"Yeah."

"Then you're free to meet new people?"

"Technically."

"Well, I know someone and who knows? She might be what you need to take your mind off him?" Why was Declan suddenly trying to be helpful?

Bakura looked at him suspiciously. "Next time, we go out," Declan continued, "I'll invite a friend that might interest you?"

"Why?"

"What do you mean why? Obviously to distract you." Distractions. That's what got him here in the first place.

"No. I'd rather not."

The other man held his hands up. "Hey, just say hi and only talk to her if you feel like it. The choice is yours, but she will be there."

Natalie nodded. "She's interesting. You'll probably like her." He hadn't realised his venting to Natalie would have resulted in her insistence on helping. Great.

"When can I take these stupid eye patches off?" he tried to change course.

"In ten minutes."

"And," Declan decided to make himself known again, "the invitation is still open to this guy." For a split second, he thought of dragging along James, hell even Ryou, just to have someone on his side that evening. He could always bail?

"Fine."

Candlelight flickered, the only thing illuminating the room besides the TV. They were drinking wine and absentmindedly watching a film at Marik's. Gemma was gone.

"It's a miracle I can tolerate both of you," Bakura told him.

Marik gave him a look.

"I don't know why. I barely know you," Bakura continued. It wasn't entirely false. There was so much mystery surrounding Marik. He hadn't even known him for a year yet. Yet. He was expecting this to continue…

"Funnily enough, you know the most about me after my siblings. Feel special." The blond continued to stare at the screen.

"And you still won't date me."

Marik groaned. Bakura smirked. The blond threw a pillow at his face. Annoying Marik brought him great joy. He'd been at it for the last hour.

Marik would pretend to be engrossed in the film. Bakura had no idea what was even going on with that mess of a plot. He'd say something to Marik, accidentally nudge or prod him. Marik would swat him away and act annoyed, or at least, Bakura assumed it was acting seeing as he had yet to kick him out.

This time, he tried a softer approach. He reached out and pinched a strand of blond hair, tugging lightly. Marik let him.

"I'm going out tomorrow. Remember Natalie? Her boyfriend wants me to meet someone. He also said you were invited."

This time, Marik actually turned to look at him. Finally. The younger man reached for his hand and stilled his movements. "The guy you hate? Why?"

Bakura shrugged, entwining his fingers into Marik's and pulling him closer. He was getting tired of the distance, of Marik's capricious fucking behaviour. "Apparently, Natalie can't keep her mouth shut."

"What exactly did you tell her?" Marik cautiously asked.

"How much of a pain in my ass you've been."

"What did you tell him?"

"That there was no way you'd agree to come."

"And?"

"I'd politely introduce myself."

Marik narrowed his eyes, his mesmerising eyes. "Are you doing this to get back at me?"

Be the bigger person. "Why can't I have both?" he mimicked. He'd come to regret this.

Waves of emotion flashed across Marik's face as he recognised his own words thrown back at him. "You are doing this to get back at me."

"All I agreed to was saying hello. I have no intention of going beyond that. You're already a handful."

"I'm coming." No fucking way.

"Wait, what?"

The blond looked resolute. "I'll be there to make sure you don't get yourself into another mess."

"Marik, you are the mess," the paralegal corrected him.

"Might as well properly meet the people who know all about our business." The film continued to play in the background, plot now lost on the blond as well.

Bakura took a sip of his drink before speaking. "Marik, don't you ever tell anyone besides Gemma? Or your sister?"

"No, I like privacy. I thought you did, too." Marik hardened his gaze.

That stunned Bakura for a moment. He really did… or used to until it became too much to handle on his own. "I honestly don't understand you."

"Exactly my point." Marik was simmering now. He was a pro at aggravating the younger man. "You don't bother to see my side. You still look at me like a possession, a prize. It's not enough." This was the second time Marik accused him of being selfish and one-sided. He determined it was better not to argue against it. It was the wisest choice he made all week.

"You're right. I don't get you, Marik, but I want to." Bakura's eyes flickered down. Amazingly, they were still holding hands. "You started flirting first." Creating this whole mess. "Why?"

"I liked the challenge," the blond admitted.

Maybe they weren't that different. "Me too."

For some reason, this answer pleased Marik who suddenly gave him a quick kiss before settling back into the sofa to watch the film. They were still holding hands like the not-boyfriends they were. He wanted more.

It was extremely bizarre. Marik here. The other people he spoke to in his life here. Them. Interacting. He'd rather pretend to not know Marik over the next few hours than watch this. There were more people than he'd imagined and they were all seeing Marik. And Marik was pulling it off. Marik, who still chose to forego the eyeliner, wore minimal gold jewelry and casual clothing. He looked…perfectly normal. He fit right in. It disturbed Bakura.

The white haired man walked out to have a cigarette. That's when he met her.

"You must be Declan's friend," she stated.

He frowned. "How do you know?"

"The hair."

"Fair."

"Can I have a light?"

He was not in the mood for it. He didn't care about finding out anything about her. He passed her his lighter and tried his best to smoke silently. She made mundane small talk. He wasn't actively trying to offend her, but he wanted to squash any hope before it had a chance to emerge. To her credit, she didn't push.

Bakura continued to give the expected responses. Luckily, Natalie showed up to have a chat, so he could smoke another one in peace. His mind was preoccupied with Marik, here, in his personal world, crossing boundaries. And it was going well. Why did that bother him?

Like at the cinema, Marik kept his space. He could not understand how the Egyptian went from being possessive to aloof. What exactly had changed except for competing with his own mind? Why was he so concerned? Why didn't Marik tell anyone about him? There it was.

Finally, said student realised that he was outside and found him there. Marik took in the scene, noticing the woman was there. Would jealousy spur him on again? The blond stood close to Bakura but made no move to bridge the gap. They were at another invisible impasse. How badly he longed for him.

He could see Natalie watching them out of the corner of her eye. She was also waiting for the next move. He regretted telling her.

Like the entire night, Marik put on that charming front and began conversing with the women. Way too fucking easily. Bakura continued to feign nonchalance.

Holy shit. He was the jealous one. Since when did he become so introspective? This was not good.

Finally, Marik nudged him. "Stop looking so grumpy."

"Yeah Bakura, why are you so foul? It's Friday for fuck's sake!" Natalie jumped in. The other woman looked relieved, probably realising that she wasn't the problem after all; it was Bakura.

He offered them a half smile, on the verge of saying 'fuck it' and accepting whatever madness came his way. His life had become such a fucking joke as of late.

And then Marik threw his arm around him and began to lead him back inside where it was warmer. To anyone else, it looked casual, but it felt like Marik was throwing him a lifeline. His internal monologue was starting to make him feel sick. It wasn't that special.

He thought they were being led to the bar, but Marik took a sharp turn for the toilets. The blond quickly looked around to ensure they were alone before slamming him against the wall.

Lips were crushed against his own, the shock melting away as his body slumped against Marik's. This is what he wanted.

"Stop acting like a dick," Marik hissed. "I'm doing all the work."

"They're used to me being that way."

"Well, quit it." Marik's fists let go of the front of his coat.

He stared back, letting himself be ordered around by Marik again. "Okay. I will. Sorry."

Marik smiled back, always satisfied with calling the shots. Why did he allow him to do that so often?

Someone else came in and Marik took that as his cue to leave. Bakura stood there for another moment and left before it became awkward.

It was nearing 3 a.m. and Marik was half-carrying him. Absolutely fucking unexpected night to get trashed, but Declan would not stop talking. Anything to put up with the conversation. Why couldn't Nat find someone better?

Marik didn't seem to mind, just a few degrees more sober than Bakura, enough to keep their balance. That was debatable though.

The blond placed Bakura against his building's wall. Bakura leaned as he looked back at him. "Get your keys out," Marik said. Slightly swaying, he searched his pockets before handing them to said blond who dealt with the rest, eventually getting them safely back inside his flat.

"You did well. Nearly tricked us all into thinking you were normal," the blond half joked. He focused purely on the compliment.

"I'm going to shower." He was nearly falling over trying to take off his shoes.

Marik gave him a concerned glance, oblivious to his own impairment. "Can you?"

"It will make me feel better." The fact that he was eloquent, although a little slurred, was a good sign.

Marik still held his keys in his hand. "I'm going to get us some food. What do you want?"

Bakura finally succeeded in kicking off his shoes. "Surprise me."

"Be more specific."

"You." He felt really clever, but that moment was short lived.

"Come on, Bakura, I'm losing momentum here," Marik whined.

Bakura pouted which amused the blond. "Fine. Chips."

Once Marik left, he took that opportunity to hop in the shower, leaving a trail of clothes. This was not like the other times. He may have been a tad uncoordinated, but he was functional and managed to freshen up. That clean feeling made him instantly feel better. He even remembered to take out his lenses.

Marik shortly returned with a brown bag filled with greasy food from the kebab shop. Falafel for Marik. Something chicken for Bakura. Chips for both of them. He never imagined he'd be wanting this kind of moment with the student months ago.

Bakura took a sip of water, slowly sobering up. He was able to keep a conversation, even serious ones.

"Did you know that Declan's birthday is coming up?" Marik was telling him.

"No." He grabbed a chip. His movements were slow and laboured, but he felt fine sitting there next to Marik.

"He invited me to his party."

"You?"

"Yeah. I don't understand why you hate him. He's alright." Was someone with a split personality really more capable of being more social than himself?

"He annoys me."

"Everyone annoys you."

"You don't."

"I did at first."

"Marik, I've always liked you. Even back then. Yes, you continue to annoy me, but that's separate from hate."

The blond froze, expression giving away nothing.

Bakura gave him a lopsided smile before adding, "Just something I've come to realise." He was like a school boy with a crush, seeking any attention including negative. He really needed to work on himself.

"I guess that makes sense. You did start all of this nonsense." Marik was moving again, taking a bite of his food.

Bakura scoffed, not the least surprised by Marik's own lack of contribution. "It takes two, Marik. Or three in our case."

He was half expecting Marik to tell him off for bringing up his other half again. Instead, the blond looked defeated. "You know, I'm happy it doesn't scare you away. I should be thrilled at how accepting you are, but I wish he remained in the background."

Bakura shook his head. Maybe it was the remaining alcohol, but he was going to make a genuine attempt at comforting someone else. "It's fine, Marik. It's really not as bad as you think."

Marik looked up at him with uncertainty. Those lavender eyes never failed to captivate him, even when they were a little morose. He reached out and tucked a strand of blond hair behind Marik's ear. He nearly missed and poked his eye out, but Marik didn't seem to notice that part. "Trust me when I say you're more stable than me," Bakura spoke carefully.

A small smile appeared on the blond's lips. "If only people knew you could be like this."

"Most people are multifaceted. I'm sure they know I'm capable of this in certain situations. You'd be amazed at the things I would do for the right person." Maybe that was the secret. Both be a little drunk so that they could finally talk.

"I already know," Marik whispered before adding more confidently, "You can be a bit extreme."

The older man rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to make you feel better. Don't insult me."

"Insulting you is what makes me feel better." Bakura wanted to tell him that he had that in common with Marik as well, but the blond was smiling again. He didn't want to ruin it. Close enough.

They finished their food before Marik got changed. Bakura was lying in bed, watching, letting Marik go through his things. Something that would have given him a heart attack back in September. He'd become so complaisant with the blond. For too brief a moment, he saw the scars that adorned his back. Marik despised them, but he thought they were beautiful. He could never tell him that though.

Marik lay down to face him. Only small gold hoop earrings remained from his previous outfit.

"I don't know why I'm like this," Bakura said.

Marik furrowed his brow. "Like what?"

He couldn't quite place the word. Nothing in his vocabulary could describe whatever was going on inside his head. He settled on, "Keen."

It took a moment for the blond to register what he meant. Marik's expression softened, arms curling around his body. Bakura accepted the invitation by trapping the blond, limbs encircled tightly, never letting go. He missed this. He didn't realise how badly he missed this.

He fell asleep holding onto Marik that night. His not boyfriend. His not friend. His. Not his.

He was destined to fuck it up soon.