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!
CW: Asthma attack, dissociation, mentions of murder, sensory issues
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.
He took a few slow breaths and grabbed his coat from the back of one of the chairs. He needed a walk. Now. He walked out of the apartment and down onto the footpath without pausing to think about it.
He didn't even focus on where he was going. He couldn't. Every time he tried, he fell into a spiral of trying to remember what he had been doing for the past ten, twenty, thirty, forty minutes, and he could always remember eventually, but then it was another ten, twenty, thirty, forty minutes later.
His feet ached, and he could almost feel a blister forming on his right sole. He glanced down. Fuck. He had never put on shoes. Well that made some sense. Once he became aware of it, the pinpricks of pain from stones hit him, and he walked on his toe with large steps to get to the bench a few feet down the road, stapled down at the front of a building. A grey-slab building with a copper plate on the front and a small, brown door. He stared at it for a moment before walking towards it.
When he pushed open the door, the secretary looked up from her desk and froze. Malik just wiped his feet on the mat and made his way over to her. They still hurt, but not as much. "Is Hasegawa-san free?"
"I... will check that for you now." She forced a smile. "You can sit in the waiting room, and if she isn't, I'll get you someone else for a walk-in."
"Thank you." Malik nodded and walked into the waiting room. No one was there. Of course no one was there - it wasn't even nine. They weren't even open an hour.
He sank into the couch and subtly checked the soles of his feet. Filthy, a blister or two, and a few scrapes and puncture wounds from small stones, but nothing more severe. He was lucky he hadn't stepped on glass. He let out a slow breath and leaned his head back. Fuck.
"Marik?"
He looked up at Hasegawa and couldn't bring himself to force a smile. "Good morning."
Her forehead was creased but she beckoned him to follow her. "Come on in and we'll chat."
Malik pushed himself out of the chair and walked after her, his weight on the sides of his feet. The cuts were beginning to sting, and he didn't want to aggravate them.
Once they were in her room, Hasegawa opened a small cabinet in the corner that Malik had never paid much attention too and withdrew a pair of grey slippers. "Here." She set them down in front of him before sitting. "Your feet must hurt."
"A bit," he admitted. He sat on the edge of the chair and slipped them on. "I walked from Bakura's."
"Did you walk straight here?"
Malik stared at the carpet. "I'm not sure." He rubbed the pad of his thumb against his knuckle.
Hasegawa leaned forward, elbow resting on her knee. "Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?"
Malik nodded. "I remember you saying I have sensory issues, CPTSD, anxiety and depression, and probably D.I.D," he said, "and I remember leaving, but- but I called Bakura and-" His breath caught on an inhale and he forced himself to take another, slower. "-and I don't remember what happened after that."
"What's the most recent thing you remember after leaving here?"
"This morning." Malik closed his eyes. "I woke up on Bakura's couch."
"And you usually sleep in his bed."
"Exactly." Malik's teeth clenched. "And I went to get some water, and there was a note for someone called Nasir. I thought it might be someone Ryou knew, but- but he never brings anyone home on a whim." Hasegawa didn't say anything, so Malik took that as a cue to keep going. "So I went out for some air, and I just- I never knew what was going on. I looked down for a minute, and suddenly it was... half an hour later and I was at the docks. And I could remember the entire journey but it was like I didn't exist for it. I was there, but I wasn't. And if Nasir is a..." He stilled. He didn't know what they were.
"Alter?" Hasegawa suggested.
Malik nodded. "If he's an... an alter, then I don't know if he was- in control yesterday, or earlier when I was walking, or any time- I don't even know if I'm the original or-" He cut himself off and stared at the carpet. Something swelled in his chest, and he wanted to cry. "I don't even know."
"That's alright," Hasegawa soothed. "This is a new development, and you need time to process it." She shifted in her seat. "But from the sounds of it, you were in control earlier. Dissociating doesn't always mean one of your alters is in control - everyone dissociates at times. It'd be great if we were present every moment of the day, and we can try to be, but it doesn't work like that." She gave Malik a smile and he did his best to return it, but he didn't think he quite managed. "It's perfectly normal, especially given everything you've been through and the news you got yesterday."
Malik relaxed, a little. "But what about Nasir?"
Hasegawa hummed for a moment. "I think with what you've told me, it's entirely possible that Nasir is an alter," she said, "but it doesn't sound like you need to worry about him. You said Ryou left a note for him, and you woke up on Ryou's couch - I doubt they would have left him alone if either he or Bakura thought Nasir was a danger."
"I guess..." Malik frowned at the ground. When else had he woken up without remembering the day? That time with Atem and Yugi. And a few times in Egypt, especially when he had to work for a long time. One time he'd woken up two weeks after he'd fallen asleep and no one had even noticed. "How do I get rid of him?"
A beat. "It's possible-" Hasegawa inclined her head, voice slow. "-but very rarely, and even more rarely without consequences. What you're going to need to do is learn how to work with this and your alters."
"How?"
"That's something you're going to need to learn yourself." She smiled. "I can help you, but everyone deals with this differently."
Malik chewed his lip. "So I won't need to do it alone?" He hated how hopeful he sounded- how tired he sounded.
"Of course not." Hasegawa shook her head. "That was never an option."
Bakura couldn't breathe. Ryou was scrambling around the apartment for something, but he didn't care. He couldn't. Gold. Gold kept flashing in front of his eyes as he sat staring at the couch with watering eyes. Where was he? Did they get him?
No, they didn't. They couldn't. Malik would burn those fuckers to the ground with his ka before they could even touch him- but no, they couldn't anyway. They were dead. They were as dead as his village, and probably resting in the same place.
What if Malik was there too? With them? No. No, he wasn't. But Bakura's chest wound tighter and he choked on what little air his throat was managing to draw in. Ryou crouched in front of him with something small and plastic, a hideous shade of blue. He held it in front of Bakura's mouth and said something, but Bakura couldn't hear him. He tried to look at him, but the second he looked away from the couch, everything blurred, and when he tried to find it again, it was gone.
The plastic was pressed past his lips, and cold air was sprayed into his mouth. He hacked against the plastic, and even though he still couldn't see, he could hear Ryou's voice. "Breathe, Bakura!" He pressed the inhaler again, and Bakura forced himself to breathe in the medicine.
He coughed again but his chest began to loosen and he slumped back against the table panting for breath. His vision began to return and he stared up at the cracking ceiling until his breath was only a little faster than normal.
Ryou still knelt beside him, clutching the inhaler in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Here," he said once Bakura managed to look at him. "Take a sip."
Bakura reached for the glass, but his grip was too feeble, so Ryou had to tilt the water into his mouth. His tongue felt like sandpaper. Ryou gave him another few sips, and then lowered the glass when Bakura pursed his lips.
"Are you okay?"
Bakura shook his head.
"Can you breathe?"
He nodded. With the water, his breathing speed had gone back to normal, or only slightly above it. He clutched Ryou's hand. "I-Is he- Is he-" He squeezed his eyes shut. Gold.
Ryou squeezed his hand. "He's safe," he admitted. Bakura didn't know how he knew - he hadn't seen Ryou on the phone. But he knew. He had to know. He knew.
They sat in silence until the door clicked, and they both looked up. Malik shuffled in and closed the door behind him, head lowered. None of them spoke as Malik slipped off a pair of slippers Bakura had never seen before- Malik didn't even look at them. As he turned around, Bakura lunged forward and threw his arms around Malik's waist.
Malik just managed to catch him, and sank with Bakura to the floor. Bakura buried his face in Malik's shoulder. He was okay. He was safe.
"Hey," Malik whispered, "it's okay."
Bakura sniffed and shook his head. Malik carefully ran his fingers through Bakura's hair. Bakura heard Ryou's footsteps behind him, but never looked up. "Where were you?" Ryou asked, his voice cold.
Malik's head shifted, and Bakura tightened his arms around him. He couldn't leave. Not now. Not when Bakura had just gotten him back.
No, he's not leaving, a rational part of his mind told him. Sure enough, Malik rubbed his back with his free hand and didn't move again. "I needed to walk," he mumbled.
"You could have left a note. Or turned on your damn phone." The floorboards underneath Ryou creaked. "Do you know how worried we've been about you?"
Malik pursed his lips. "I should have."
"Well that's not good enough."
"Yes it is," Bakura mumbled, burrowing into Malik's chest. It was enough as long as Malik didn't leave again.
"No it's not," Ryou insisted. "Malik, Bakura had an-"
"Ryou-"
"-asthma attack because he-"
"Ryou, knock it off."
"-didn't know where the fuck you were!" Ryou finished. Bakura glanced up at him. The other man was standing with his arms folded, almost looming over Malik.
He's angry at you. It's your fault. Bakura squeezed his eyes shut. It was always his fault. No. No, he was angry at Malik- but Malik leaving was Bakura's fault. He should have woken up, or let Nasir share his bed so Malik wouldn't wake up alone on the couch.
Malik held Bakura closer and kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Bakura started. "I panicked when I woke up, and I saw your note to-" He took a breath. "-to Nasir, so I needed to walk. I dissociated through most of it and ended up going back to my counsellor."
"You should have left a note-"
"I know." Malik gave Bakura a squeeze. "But I couldn't breathe. And I know I should have still done something, but I felt like I was suffocating."
"It's fine, Ry," Bakura mumbled before Ryou could say anything more.
Ryou sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, just-" He sighed again. "Okay." He grabbed his coat. "I'm late for work, just-" His words died in his throat and he shook his head. "I'll see you later." He pulled on his shoes and slipped outside.
Malik turned back to Bakura and peppered his forehead with kisses. "Are you okay?" Bakura dug his fingers into Malik's shirt and nodded. "Are you sure?"
"I'm fine," Bakura mumbled. He still felt like he was about to throw up, but his breathing had eased and his head didn't feel like it was about to concave anymore. "Are you?"
Malik nodded and shifted slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." He sighed. "I went to talk to Hasegawa and she... helped." He swallowed. "I don't know if I can get rid of Nasir, but-"
"You can't." Bakura shook his head. "He's- fuck, do you want to move to the couch? My knees hurt."
Malik snorted. "Now I know you're okay." He gave Bakura another squeeze before pulling away to stand. Bakura kept hold of his hand and led him over to the couch. Once they were both sitting down, he curled into Malik. Malik ran his fingers through the other's hair. "I don't know how you managed to be a spirit for so long," he mumbled. "You're so needy."
Bakura frowned. "Is that a bad thing?"
"Not at all." Malik held him closer. "So what were you saying about getting rid of Nasir?"
"Oh, right." Bakura shook his head. "I was saying you can't. He's his own person, Malik. And I know it's your body but he's-"
"He tried to kill everyone." Malik scowled.
"He tried to protect you." Bakura sat up a little. "Trust me. He's not trying to hurt anyone - no more than I am, anyway." He shook his head. "You didn't see him-"
"That's kind of the point." Malik picked at a loose thread and Bakura's stomach grew heavy again. "If I can get rid of him- It's my body."
"It's his too." Bakura took Malik's hand and squeezed it.
"Why are you even defending him?" Malik looked at him.
"Because Ryou's apparently his friend now and gave me a lecture about being nice to him." Bakura rolled his eyes. "Besides - he's part of you. And I like you."
Malik raised one eyebrow, but a small smile graced his face. "Okay." He sighed. "Did he know why he came out at least?" If he couldn't get rid of Nasir, maybe he could stop him coming out again.
Bakura shook his head. "I think it was just because you panicked." Malik pursed his lips. Come to think of it, saying that to a person with anxiety wasn't the best thing. Bakura tried again. "He's only nineteen."
Malik's eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Yeah." Bakura yawned. "I was looking up some stuff yesterday. It's called age regression - it's pretty common for people with D.I.D."
Malik swallowed. "You looked up stuff on D.I.D for me?"
"I mean it was also for me so I know how to help." Bakura shrugged. "But yeah, I guess so." His face felt far too hot.
Malik pulled Bakura tight against his chest. It was almost uncomfortable, and his hot breath wafted over Bakura's ear. "You're amazing," he whispered.
I know, sprung to Bakura's lips, but that moment didn't feel like the right time for a sassy comment. Instead, he nuzzled into Malik's chest. "So are you."
"Okay, so you got the basics down." Bakura rolled his shoulders back and something at the back of his neck popped. Malik had a feeling it was completely accidental from the pleased smile on the other's face. "Now let's try some other stuff."
Malik raised an eyebrow. "Like what?" He'd been practicing with his heka all month. He'd even managed to make his eyes glow and look like he was actually bleeding on Halloween. Ryou almost forgave him for freaking Bakura out that one time after that - almost. He had absolutely forgiven Malik by the time he managed to make Ryou's Freddie claws look real though.
"Spells." Bakura's smile grew. "I know a couple - I don't have them written down though. If you want those, you'll either need to go to your sister or His Royal Highness."
Malik grimaced. Not the most desirable of options. "Okay, I'll go with your idea," he agreed. "What are we doing a spell for?"
"Protection," Bakura decided. Malik frowned. "I figured given how much shit we've all gotten into in the past, you could use it."
Malik managed a small smile. "Are you admitting that you're worried about me?" He teased.
"Of course not," Bakura scoffed. "I just don't want to lose my body pillow."
"Mhm." Malik's smile grew a little. "And I suppose losing you as my regular pillow would be inconvenient."
"Exactly." Bakura shot him with a finger. "So protection spells."
"Right." Malik pushed himself off the bed. "What do we do?" He glanced around his apartment. "Close blinds, light candles-"
"We just need a mirror," Bakura admitted. "But it's an every-day spell."
Malik sighed. "Bakura, I don't-"
"Even if you don't do it every day - just-" Bakura looked away from him. Outside, the sky was dimming to orange and horns beeped from the work-time traffic returning home. Malik reached out and took Bakura's hand. "I don't want you to get hurt again."
Malik sighed and squeezed Bakura's hand. "Alright," he mumbled, "I'll try to remember at least once a week. Deal?"
Bakura nodded in agreement and rested his head against Malik's arm. "Okay," he mumbled. He pressed a kiss to the bare skin before pulling back. "Okay, you close the curtains and grab candles - I'll get a mirror."
Malik frowned. "I thought we only needed the mirror?"
"Yeah, but a slightly dim room and candles make it look cooler." Bakura grinned. "We can also turn on the fairy lights and take a selfie beforehand if you want."
Malik smiled. "That sounds kind of nice," he admitted. "Okay. But you let me take the photo."
"Yeah, yeah." Bakura waved him off and disappeared to find a moveable mirror.
Malik dragged the slightly transparent curtains closed. Locating candles was easy enough, so he dragged out the coffee table to the centre of the room and arranged the candles around it. He then flicked on the fairy lights he had strung up above his bed and checked his hair and make-up. His legs were beginning to burn again, and he grimaced as Bakura returned.
Bakura frowned and set the mirror down. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Malik rubbed the side of his thigh. "My legs just don't seem to like my jeans."
Bakura chewed his tongue. "You've been saying that about a lot of pants."
"It's fine." Malik waved him off. "It's been happening since I was a kid. It's just these ones are worse than normal. Now let's do the spell."
Bakura sat on the edge of the bed with the mirror. For a moment, he didn't do anything. Finally, he looked at Malik again. "You have SPD right?" After a second, Malik nodded. "Could pants be making your sensory issues act up?"
Malik scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. Maybe." He shrugged. "But it doesn't matter. I'm used to it."
"The other day you literally ripped off your pants when we got home and just lay on the bed for half an hour." Bakura set the mirror down on the mattress. "Just because some people don't have it doesn't mean it's a bad thing, Mal."
"Okay, can you stop with the preaching?" Malik sighed. "You're not my therapist."
"I'm not trying to be," Bakura said. "I'm just saying- maybe pants are a sensory issue of yours. I've never seen you comfortable in a pair. Ever."
Malik laughed. "So what?" Even if it was true, it wasn't like he could do anything about it. "I'm meant to wander around the streets half naked? Tell someone it's a sensory issue if they try to arrest me for public indecency?"
"Well-" Bakura shrugged. "You could try skirts."
Malik's breath caught. No. No, no, no. "I can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm a guy." He couldn't wear skirts. He had already tried as a kid, when he couldn't get used to pants after wearing robes in the tombs for so long. Rishid had been okay with it, but Ishizu had screamed at him when she found them.
"So?" Bakura shrugged. "You wear make-up and jewellery. Those aren't masculine."
"It's different." It was. He had cried when Ishizu had burned his skirts. He and Rishid had left soon after, so it wouldn't have taken much to try them again but he couldn't. "Skirts are for women."
"Mal." Bakura stood up and moved closer. Malik hadn't noticed his breath quickening until it slowed when Bakura put his hands on his shoulders. "You're in Japan. Drag queens' popularity is one of the reasons there's an issue with trans people. They're not-"
"I'm not a drag queen or trans-"
"I'm not saying you are. You don't have to be." Bakura squeezed Malik's shoulders. "I'm just saying skirts might make life easier for you." Malik stared down at the floor. "How about we go shopping tomorrow or later even and you can try one or two on? See how it feels? We don't have to buy them."
"Maybe." Malik dug his nails into his palm. "I also don't want to make Ryou uncomfortable."
"Trust me - he'll be fine," Bakura assured him. "He'll be more uncomfortable about us doing something with a mirror."
Malik frowned and raised his gaze. "Why would he be uncomfortable with that?"
Bakura waved his hand. "Something occult-fuckery related probably. We can ask him afterwards." He moved his grip to Malik's hands. "Now come on. Let's try this."
Malik sighed and nodded, helping Bakura set up the mirror against the bedside table. They put the candles around it and Malik knelt in front of the mirror. Bakura stood a little off to the side. "Okay, what do I do?" Malik asked.
"Just repeat these words while channeling some of your heka towards the mirror," Bakura instructed. He gave Malik four words and repeated them a few times to ensure he had the right pronunciation before letting him continue the spell alone.
Malik stared into the mirror, murmuring the words under his breath. He did his best to keep direct eye contact with himself throughout the spell. It wasn't the easiest, especially with his heka still running at a low enough energy level not to shatter the mirror but also push some energy into it, but he managed to hold out for a few minutes - until he saw Bakura shift out of the corner of his eye.
"That should be enough," Bakura mumbled. Malik finished the last chant and stood up from the mirror. "Do you feel any different?"
Malik pursed his lips. No. Not at all. But he wanted to make Bakura feel better. "I think it worked," he replied, "but I don't feel different." Bakura slowly nodded. Malik chewed his lip and looked down. His legs were beginning to feel worse. "Would you mind if I wore skirts?" He asked. "Like... not just because of the sensory thing. Just... in general." He glanced up.
"Of course not. If that's what you want to wear, let's go get some skirts." Bakura offered him a grin. "But you might want to get a cheap one that you can fuck in too, because I think you'd look hot as fuck in a skirt."
Malik licked his lips. Ishizu wasn't around to take them away, and she had grown over the years. Maybe it wouldn't matter. "And maybe a dress?"
Bakura reached out and took Malik's hand. "Do you want to?"
"Maybe?" Malik shrugged. "I mean, I could try some on at least."
Bakura squeezed his hand and smiled. "Then let's go get you a damn dress."
Hope you guys enjoyed. Things are going to get a little easier for the next few chapters and then it's going to be wrapped up in five weeks! Hope y'all are as excited as I am.