Promise Me Nothing

Chapter Six: Bakura

"Fluuuuuuuuuuuuuffy!" Marik's voice cut a shrill, resounding break through the haze of music from Ryou's iPod. He only had crappy music, of course-it wasn't like I enjoyed it. I pulled out one of the black ear-buds, listening again.

"Bakura!" Another shout and I was scrambling out, to see if Marik had hurt himself, the iPod left on the floor in my wake. I followed his voice, a short way to the kitchen, where he was on the floor, legs splayed, head thrown back, calling for me still.

"Are you okay?" I dropped next to him, checking for burns, cuts or bruises with my hands. "What's wrong?"

"Frig Bakura, don't touch me." He shoved my hands off before pointing to a row of cabinets, interrupted by a gaping hole. "There's no oven! We can't eat anything!"

"For Ra's sake, Marik! Don't scream about something like that; look, there's a microwave." I stood up with a short exhale, pointing out the appliance. Per usual, he was over-reacting without taking adequate measure of his surroundings.

"Oh. Oops." Marik pulled his body into a cross-legged position, blowing hair out of his lavender eyes.

"And I know you always have those microwaveable meal things lying about, so there's plenty to eat." I patted his head, his hair rubbing between my fingers. MY heart was still pounding too hard for me to really be upset. "When do you use the oven for cooking anyway?"

"Um." Marik tilted his head, causing my hand to slip over his ear. I jerked away quickly. "Well, there was this one time-no, wait, that was Ishizu. There was. . ." He said nothing after that.

"Marik," I said helping him stand, "you go play something, or do whatever and I'll make you something to eat. How about that?"

"Sure, Bakura." He smiled, looking around, fingers still delicately hooked into my own from where we'd grabbed onto each other as I helped him up. "You know, once we really make it feel like home, this place'll be perfect."

"If I survive that long,"

"What?"

"Nothing."