Promise Me Nothing

Chapter Twenty: Bakura

I'm at Ryou's house. Can you come over? At two AM, Marik was texting me awake. I yawned, wondering what he needed from me, especially after last night and why the bloody hell he hadn't just come home. Using my phone as a light, I stumbled around my room, finding and putting on my coat.

Going to the entry hall, I slid into my shoes, tapping the toes on the floor out of habit from the host's body. I stumbled outside, stretching and squinting, still hazy. I hailed a cab off the street, directing the cabbie to Ryou's place. In the backseat, I texted Marik that I was on my way.

Once the cab pulled up, I paid and got out, more awake by then. The building was shrouded in half-dark, partially lit from the streetlamp off a ways. I came in through the unlocked front door, dust left behind on my palm. Within, I could see Marik's form snuggled into the couch, face illuminated by phone-light.

"Marik?" I said, sliding my hands into my trouser pockets, staying where I was. I hadn't slept much, I hadn't slept well, trying to determine whether kissing him had been such a great idea, especially since he'd left mid-way through.

He rolled more to his side, phone clamped firmly in his hand. "Hey," he said. "Sorry for waking you up."

"It's fine," I said, scotching closer. "About last night-"

"I thought a lot about that." He sat up, going to one side of the couch, patting the now-emoty side. I came and sat, bringing up my legs and crossing them beneath me.

"That was-"

"I'm not done." Marik's mobile turned itself off, leaving us in darkness. "I thought about us, Bakura."

I stayed quiet, feeling my heart pound under the heavy fabric of my shirt. His tone was completely serious, unmarred by emotional undertone.

Marik didn't say anything for a bit, probably waiting for me to say something first. When neither of us said anything, he sighed. "I think I," he said, voice faltering and dropping, "I think I like you."

My heart caught sharply. I gripped the sleeves of my coat, looking at where I should've seen his eyes but for the darkness. "Marik, I really like you, too, "I said, breath punchy and short.

In the black, I heard Marik's own breathing, heavily rising and falling, hitching in his lungs. I fumbled for his hands, finding them in overly-tight fists on his knees. I squeezed his hands, before tracing up his arm with one hand, to his shoulder, then cheek.

"I wasn't sure," Marik said, laugh following a catch in his voice. "I couldn't tell."

I turned his head, my eyes having now adjusted enough to see his outline. Then, at almost the same instant, we both leaned toward each other, lips meeting.