"Stop talking to him."
Marik and himself agreed to grab dinner one evening. It was a week before their respective birthdays, but no one brought it up. No one brought up the previous week either. Or the one before. And before. And before that.
Bakura's hair was finally long enough to partially tie back. He wore glasses all week as abusing his contacts were taking a toll. Plus, he had forgotten to order a new box and ran out. He managed two weeks without cocaine. Other drugs were still on the table, but the little wins counted.
"Marik, for the last time, he is you. You may not like it, but I don't mind it. At least, accept it," he explained. He decided to focus on his carbonara. Nothing like Italy, but close enough. That made him sound like such a privileged prat.
"Bakura, I'm really not happy about it."
"You had your chance. Now, it's his go." He hadn't intended in revealing this much but time to stir the pot. Maybe, it would get Marik on board. Maybe it wouldn't. Maybe it would make him jealous? He didn't have much to lose.
He could have sworn he saw Marik's eye twitch. Why did he always look so bloody attractive? Fuck.
"That's not funny, Bakura," the blond warned.
"Why do you think I'm joking?"
"Stay. The. Fuck. Away." Marik enunciated each word sternly. He hadn't seen him this serious before. He could see how they were the same. That anger ran deep.
He responded by taking a bite of his incorrect pasta. The wine bottle between them was mainly drunk by him. His shirt was wrinkled. His hair was dishevelled, even when half up. He did not care anymore. He hadn't cared for nearly two months. It was nice not to care about order and perfection, in spite of its detrimental effect. He gained back two kilos over the week. He also woke up on the bathroom floor again, but Marik didn't need to know that part. That fiasco was purely accidental.
"What should I do if he shows up then?" the paralegal dared to ask. He was quite enjoying this dinner. One fucking twat jealous over another twat, himself, about his own damned mind. How amusing.
"Absolutely nothing," the Egyptian replied through gritted teeth.
"Sure. So, what about us then? Still a no, yeah?" It was becoming easier to accept. Did he feel great about it? No. But what could he feasibly do? Just go back to not caring? It was barely working, however, he needed to convince himself to get through this dinner. For the first time in his life, he was wishing to find someone new. Someone, anyone, to attract him. Distract him. Enslave him.
Marik grimaced and returned to his veggie pasta. Twat. You are weak.
"Oh, so we're still in denial? Sure," he muttered, stabbing some food.
"Bakura, shut up."
He smiled for a second; some things remained the same. "You're lucky you're cute," he relented, brazenly. He'd clearly been the chaser as of late. Marik appeared to blush for a moment and that made him happy.
"It's weird when you don't care," the student finally said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, whatever you say doesn't reach your eyes. You still look sad."
"That's your fault," Bakura obstinately replied.
"Don't fucking blame me for your bullshit!" Marik was easily aggravated this evening. Maybe, it was just Bakura's special talent.
"Fine, it's like eighty percent your fault." Making him squirm was way more enjoyable.
"Why are you blaming me for everything? You were just as much a part of this mess," the blond retorted, forgetting his meal.
"That may be true, Marik, but I did try to fix it multiple times now. You're the one who won't make up his mind."
The blond quickly changed the topic. "I found the book."
"What?"
"That stupid library book. I found it in Gemma's room. She borrowed it and forgot about it. I paid the fine. It's done." Marik's words were calm and measured.
"I forgot about that." Sort of. He ignored the multiple calls and emails. He hadn't read a book since meeting the man before him.
"You can blame me for that, too, while you're at it."
"Marik, I've always blamed you for that," he offhandedly stated.
The student cracked a smile and suppressed a small laugh. "Yeah, you did." Why was he so attractive? Even his shitty eyeliner…
"Let's start over then. Hi, I'm Bakura," he held out his hand waiting for Marik to shake it. "I'm an insufferable dick even to myself."
Marik rolled his eyes and shook his hand. "I'm Marik. I'm everything you wish you could have and more." Arrogant as ever.
He retracted his hand. "That's not very self-aware, Ishtar." He could feel a hangnail and began subconsciously picking at it under the table.
"What should I say instead?"
I'm a selfish tease. "I have the most irritating voice on the planet and I'm in deep denial about myself." Marik frowned before taking a sip of his wine. Bakura was attempting to rip his annoying skin off under the table.
"Anyway, I'm going to Egypt for a few weeks. Just thought you should know seeing as you love to show up at my house in the middle of the night." That left a bad taste in his mouth.
"When do you go?" Bakura quickly asked.
"Next week."
"You shouldn't have to worry about us doing anything untoward until then."
The blond frowned. "Seven days…I've seen you do a lot of damage in just a few hours."
"You liked it." Marik said nothing and looked off to the side. Touched a nerve?
"What will you do during the holidays?" the blond finally spoke again, pretending to be unbothered.
Bakura had managed to rip off the hangnail. He felt a sting as it began to bleed. "Might pick up a book now that the library is no longer hunting me."
"You will be okay…right?"
"Marik, stop worrying."
"I just don't want you to die."
He snorted. "Believe me, it will take a lot more than that to kill me. It's fine. I slowed down."
The blond nodded solemnly.
Bakura had stuck to his word as he lounged on his sofa reading a collection of Kafka's short stories. The absurdist nightmares were more bearable than his own life right now. He managed to get through his birthday without any issue, though James insisted on going out after Christmas as a late celebration.
For the first time in nearly two months, he deep cleaned his flat. Organised his life. Almost to his previous level. The intrusive thoughts hadn't fully come back yet and he was dreading them. For now, he managed to stay away from the heavier drugs for three weeks. He was in that danger zone of false safety. The one where you tell yourself 'I did it. It won't hurt for just tonight, and I'll stop again for a few weeks.' James was a bad influence but so was he.
Marik hadn't contacted him yet. However, Marik did once to complain. He was bored. He soon made some joke about the British weather in comparison to his homeland. The conversation ended with a final complaint about how the paralegal was being moody again. Apparently, that made him extremely dull.
Things were becoming easier with his resignation. Marik would most likely live in denial for a lot longer. He saw no point in hiding his side anymore. They'd probably continue to meet up until it became a chore. Then it would end for good. Same with Marik. The forbidden fruit.
Maybe that was the last remaining attachment? The thing that kept him coming back; stopped him from moving on. It was happening again. Just forgot about him. He's not your problem for another two weeks.
In the corner, Tarot slept. He was also stuck dog sitting for the week. Ryou had gone on holiday with some friends. This pet watching was happening once a month and it was starting to aggravate him, especially with such a high energy dog. He had to throw sticks in parks and chase her around. Otherwise, she'd bother him at home.
He put his book down and lit a cigarette. Not only was he slowly recovering from the neglect he'd put his body through as of late, but his social battery was drained. He desperately needed a break from people.
Naturally, that's when Marik decided to message.
[7700-900391:
Stop talking to him!]
Bakura rolled his eyes.
[REPLY:
Stop being jealous of your bloody self!]
[7700-900391:
I'm not jealous!]
[REPLY:
You can very well read that it was a perfectly innocent conversation]
[7700-900391:
I'm warning you]
And what exactly could he do to him? It was the other Marik that he should be afraid of. He had the potential to commit real damage. He could emotionally crush you again though.
[REPLY:
Fuck off Marik]
Despite the turmoil he'd been through, the younger man still managed to infuriate quickly. He'd do unspeakable things to him and would want to murder him afterwards. It made him wonder why he even liked him. You know why. Marik was certainly an acquired taste.
He took another long drag. His lungs must hate him, but it had a calming effect. The grey skies outside threatened rain. They always threatened rain. He decided to message again.
[You should be thankful that I accept your mind for what it is]
It took some time before he received a reply.
[7700-900391:
Thanks]
He wasn't sure just how sincere that message was, but he'd take it for now.
Bakura observed Tarot again. He couldn't believe he was spending Christmas with a dog. He'd be lucky if his estranged father sent him a message. He'd ignore it anyway. Twat.
Mummy and daddy issues. Of course, he had to get both. He couldn't just have one side of the coin.
"Are you still sulking?" Marik inquired. The madman had video called him one afternoon. The background showed a warm home full of colours, sunlight seeping in from every window.
"I never was."
"You tell yourself that. Anyway, I'm home alone. Marik took a nap, so I finally had a moment to myself. It's hard when they're always around."
Bakura shifted in bed, making himself more comfortable. He'd been watching a documentary on how food production was killing us. Everything was killing us. "Who?"
"His siblings. I need to be careful. If they notice anything, they'll up my meds again and I'll fade away for a while."
"What a shame that would be," he said dryly.
"You'd miss me too much. You love our little chats. You get to look at Marik without having to talk to Marik. A perfect world for you." Bakura supressed a small laugh.
"So would you seeing as I'm your only mate."
"You flatter yourself."
He sighed. "I rarely do."
"You taste like an ash tray. No one desires that." He flinched at recalling that memory.
"What do you want? Do you want me to change to menthols for you?" Both Mariks exasperated him.
"A little banter, innit?" Marik mimicked a South London accent looking too pleased with himself.
"Get fucked." Bakura took a sip of his drink.
"I think it's the other way around." He nearly choked on his drink. The other cackled.
"Right. I'll be hanging up now."
The other shook his head before speaking. "Don't do that. We need to make plans for my return."
He raised an eyebrow. "We do?"
"I'd rather say it than leave a message trail. I need to be careful not to annoy him too much as well. He might want to increase his medication on his own."
"Hmm."
"I'm better company than him anyway. You have yet to deny it."
"Hmm."
"Day time or night time?"
"Day time."
"Inside or outside?"
"Outside."
"Playing it safe I see."
"You did say something about destroying me next time. It's merely self-preservation." He took another sip of his drink, judging it safe.
"Fear not. I have better self-control than you and him combined," Marik continued, undeterred.
"Ironic."
"Food or no food?"
"Flexible."
"Drinks?"
"Absolutely."
"Cool. I'll think of something. See you then." The blond hung up before he could reply.
The week went by. It was a very uneventful holiday. Bakura spent most of it alone and felt indifferent. He started dreaming again, but he could only recall incomprehensible snippets. He didn't know how he should feel about it.
Work was the same. He was a little more focused. A little more present.
He declined a dinner invitation with his father. It was sent through Ryou, of course. Their mutual contempt always made Ryou uncomfortable, but it never stopped him from taking advantage of their father's favouritism. It sickened Bakura, but he couldn't entirely blame him.
One evening, he found himself at the corner shop to purchase more cigarettes. He considered buying menthols. The hesitation unnerved him.