fluffydeathdealer | [CAMPUS/IC]

Kh... I'm three thousand years old and I don't have as many fragments as you!

[Leaning over, he grabs Malik by the shoulders.]

Malik... please. Promise me you won't make many more of them.

[The grab surprises him and Malik tenses in response. He looks Bakura straight in the eyes, defiant.]

I'll make whatever I have to.

...

[Letting go of him, he sits back.]

It's your funeral.

I'll be fine. I'm sick of you not having any faith in me, Bakura... I'd stop if I felt too weak, but the fragments I've been putting in most people have been small.

I have no faith in you because you don't give me reason to have any! Respect has to be earned, Malik, not demanded.

You insolent...are you saying you don't respect me?! After everything we've been through...!

[Beneath that rising fury, Malik sounded hurt.]

Why not? It's obvious that you don't respect me.

[Folding his arms over his chest, he looks away.]

If you did, you'd treat me like a person instead of acting like I'm some sort of toy for your amusement.

Fool. I already told you... [He doesn't want to say it again...that Bakura was more than just a "thing" to him. It was hard enough the first time.]

[Malik reaches down, pulling off one of his fingerless biker gloves so he can show Bakura the scar stretched across his palm.]

If you were just a toy...I wouldn't have done this! I'm not beyond manipulating others to achieve my own goals, but what benefit would this possibly have for me? It's not like you listen to a damn thing I say anyway!

...

[He moves to take Malik's hand, pressing a light kiss to the scar. That's right... As unkind as Malik acted, he had made that promise regardless, hadn't he?

A sigh ghosts over the raised flesh as he lets it go.]

I listen. But the way you talk is sometimes... a lot colder than that. Sometimes it sounds like you don't care for me at all.

Heh... I guess I'm the same, aren't I? Old habits die hard.

[Malik watches and feels that affectionate gesture against his skin, his anger cooling with it.]

You are the same. [He says flatly, taking his hand back and pulling the glove over it.]

We're... [His fingers were still gripping the edge of his glove, stuck there in mid-motion. Where had he even been going with this...?]

[Resting his arms on his knees and looking down at Malik from the table, he ponders it.]

We're both new to this. It's only natural.

[Sigh.]

But you know, I'm worried about you.

... [Malik hunches over, wishing he could rest his head. All of this...it reminded him of being a child again. The novelty, the intrigue, and the fright of it all.]

[A bit of irritation enters his voice again.] I hear that enough from Rishid and my Sister. I'm doing what I have to do--and as long as it doesn't let that other half of myself out again, I don't care!

But it might.

[His voice is quiet. Sitting back, he looks at the ceiling, almost expressionlessly. It's an eerie look for his usually expressive face.]

The more your soul divides, the weaker you'll get. And the more easily he'll be able to corrupt it.

...Why? [His voice is soft, almost a whisper. Malik's head droops then, his eyes pointed to the floor. It was a desolate sight, a defeated look on what was usually such a confident boy.]

Why do I have that thing inside of me...?

[His gaze softens at the sight and he shakes his head despondently. He has no idea what to say. It must be hard, having something like that inside of you.]

I don't know. If it was possible to separate him from you, I would... but it's not within my power.

[It was frightening. Whenever he thought about it, Malik felt as if the darkness itself was going to swallow him up.

There was nobody who could possibly understand what it felt like...to have something inside you that would destroy everything you cared about the instance it had the chance. To be trapped in your own body, out of control and blind to the world around you.

...Wait.

There was someone who might understand. Malik himself had told that boy he understood how he felt not that long ago. But the last thing he wanted to do was reach out for comfort from Ryou, of all people. Even if that kind-hearted fool had held him when he was having nightmares...]

I know...it's fine.

[There was nothing he could do. Bakura had no idea how it felt to be as vulnerable as Malik must. He didn't know what it was like to be afraid of yourself, to hide from yourself, to know that you could wake up to find everything you loved gone. He was discomfitted enough by what it felt like to care for someone at all.

But despite Malik's words, he knew it wasn't fine. His rage was gone, his irritation dimmed. There was little he could do save for this. Slipping off of the table, he drew Malik into his arms in a tight embrace.]

...I do respect you. Even if I don't act like it.

[Malik doesn't try to deny himself the comfort of Bakura's embrace. He just doesn't have the strength for it.

All he can do is press his face into the other man's shoulder and sit there, one hand lifting up to rest at Bakura's side as he tried to ignore the numbness taking over him.

If splitting his soul really made it easier for his other half to corrupt him...maybe it was too late. Maybe that's why he was able to come out in the first place.]

Bakura...

[He brings a hand up to cup the back of Malik's head, fingers stroking through his hair. He keeps forgetting how young Malik really is. There's still only a small amount of guilt, but it grows the more he sees Malik like this. It's a spiral of unending darkness.]

What is it?

Nothing. I was just saying your name.

[It was kind of silly, now that he thought about, but...

Whatever. He was just going to stay in this hold as long as Bakura would allow it, slowly easing his worries down to their usual tolerable toxicity.]

...heh. I see.

[He lets the hold stay until he feels Malik is safe to let go, before drawing back to look at his face seriously.]

How are you feeling?

[While still looking melancholy, Malik looks considerably less hopeless and desolate than before.]

Better... [He lifts his scared hand, looking down at the glove wordlessly. Despite everything...he still wanted to put a fragment of his soul directly into Ryou's body.

Maybe that would have been a better idea than the knife. Chances are Bakura wouldn't have even noticed.]

But I didn't expect it to go away that easily either. Until I'm sure my alter ego can't take over...I'm always going to feel like this.

It's like a knife hanging over our heads... that guy. Keh...! I'll rip him out of your mind someday!

[With that sharp threat, he looks around thoughtfully. The shards can be left for Ryou to clean up... Malik probably won't feel like food... Nope, nothing of too much interest to be done to distract him. Too bad. But he has to do something...]

With any luck, we'll be out of here soon anyway. He'll surely disappear then.

["Our heads". No, wasn't it just his? But Bakura cared about him, and he cared if that alter ego took over. In that sense, he was in this with him...he had something to lose, too. That thought alone was comforting.]

That's right. Once I kill the Pharaoh, my other half won't have anything to fuel it. That's why getting out of here is so important.

[But wait, hadn't Henry said something about that? It's coming back to him now, those words that stuck with him so firmly at the time. "Hatred and rage are a terrible burden . . . with no end and no way to satiate it."

Even if he succeeded, and he was sure he would...would that other half of him still remain?]

Edited 2013-10-09 23:21 (UTC)

That brat won't know what's coming to him... Heh.

[Taking a seat on the table again, he swings his legs idly, looking for all the world the picture of an ordinary teenager.]

But you don't look too confident... are you going soft on me?

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