"You need to understand that you don't have bad mental health - you have mental illness."
Malik didn't teach Bakura how to love himself, but he was the bridge that helped him get there.
[ Credit for cover: samael_dire on Instagram ]
[ MLM, Thiefship...
Mothers and fuckers of wattpad, I have now registered to change my name by deed poll! It'll take a few weeks to process but AAAAAAA I'm so HAPPY!!! You guys have no idea how long I've been waiting for this! Oof also sorry that this chapter was a week late. Honestly it wasn't even for a valid reason this time - I just forgot lol. Hope you enjoy it anyway!
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CW: Asthma attack, dissociation, mentions of murder, sensory issues
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Malik's eyes flickered open and he pushed himself up with a small groan. His body ached - especially his right shoulder. He must have slept on it. He glanced around. Ryou's apartment - the couch. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown. How had he gotten back?
He slid off the couch, and the floor was cold on his bare feet. Winter was setting in. He made his way into the kitchen. The curtains were still closed, and a dull light was filtering through them, but it wasn't quite bright enough. Malik turned the light on and glanced at the clock. Just after six. No one was up yet.
He wandered over to the fridge and pulled it open, then closed it. What was he doing? He wasn't hungry.
He opened it again and scanned the contents before stealing an orange. He wasn't hungry. He nudged the door closed with his foot and began to peel the orange. A scribbled note pinned to the fridge by a blue smiley-face magnet caught his eyes, and he pulled it down.
Nasir - if you're hungry, there are leftovers in the fridge. I'll be up at eight to go to work, but Bakura should be up around noon - Ryou.
Malik scowled. Who the fuck was Nasir-? Oh. The orange slipped from his hands and rolled over to the wall. You also appear to have Dissociative Identity Disorder. Another personality. Was that Nasir? It had to have been. He frowned at the note. No. No, maybe Ryou just brought someone home that night called Nasir. But what were the chances of that? Ryou never brought someone back to his apartment. To Malik's knowledge, he hadn't hooked up with anyone in months.
The note crumpled in his hand and he hurled it at the window. It bounced off the glass and dropped down into the sink. Malik strode over to the disposal switch and turned it on, watching as the note was shredded.
