Promise Me Nothing

Chapter Eighteen: Bakura

It'd been snowing the day before, the first fall occurring a little past noon, which was when I'd noticed Marik wasn't in the flat. He left a Post-It on the counter, with a simple smiley face. I just hoped a smiley-face sticky note wasn't some serial killer's signature.

Wherever he'd gotten to, he'd spent the night. I wasn't truly worried, though; no one would want to kidnap or actually kill Marik.

Ryou had finished the tree, though it looked wretched. He'd fallen asleep now, curled up on the couch in much the same manner Marik had a week ago. He guard down and duty completed, I regained control, rousing his body out of sleep.

It wasn't till almost three when I heard the Cadillac pass the window, toward the lot for parking. Marik seemed to like vehicles in disrepair, the horrifically pink Cadi being no exception.

A few minutes later, Marik burst in, throwing my keys-my keys-down on the counter. "Bakura!" he shouted, speeding toward me without a decent moment's pause.

I side-stepped him, watching him halt alarmingly close before he would have hit the wall behind me. He walked backward, to stand in front of me, panting. "What?" I said.

"I missed you, Fluffy," he said, face beaming. A vague shadow passed over his face then. "Did you miss me?"

"No," I said. Both of our gazes met. His almond-shaped lavender eyes saw right through the word and we both knew it. "Where were you, anyway?" I hurried on, moving out of the kitchen.

"Your house, picking up all your stuff we left after getting your mattress and the Christmas stuff. It's all in the car." Marik's body nestled against the kitchen doorframe. He was smiling, but there was something wrong with it. It didn't seem happy. "Hey, you got all the decorations done and it looks pretty damn good for you. Well done."

I shrugged, trying to read his expression. Wasn't he hiding something with that look?

"Sorry about leaving on Christmas Eve Eve," Marik went on, "but I left a note. You saw my note, right?"

"Next time, leave something I can read. For all I knew, you'd decided to go to Germany and left that behind."

Marik smiled unapologetically, face contorting truthfully to this expression. But it soon shifted to a forced nonchalance. It was too serious, though. "Su, uh, Bakura. I think we should talk."

His voice, too, was serious, which was more than enough to unsettle me. "What is it, Marik? Is something wrong?"

"I. . .think so." His eyebrows drew in, eyes faltering over me. A strangely bashful look had overcome him, a flush in his cheeks. When he blushed, it was in candied red that seemed to glow deeply under his caramel skin. I loved seeing that blush. It made me want to force it, pry it out of him with kisses and touches, make him mine.

But he was starting to worry me. "Spit it out, then," I said, moving in to grip his arm and shake it a little.

"You're-" he began, meeting my eyes, eyebrows again furrowing. "You're thinking the same thing I am, right?"

I froze. If we were really thinking the same thing, then he knew? I was that easy to read? That would explain his blush, as well. "What's that?" I asked slowly.

A brief pain flickered between the expression he'd had and a new, brighter look. "That we haven't had any schemes to defeat the pharaoh in a while! What else?"

Tension sagged out of this borrowed body, leaving relief and disappointment. From here, he babbled on about various, unimportant schemes and tangents. Familiar words were mangled together, letting me filter out at least fifty per cent of what he said.

Having relaxed, I backed away, sight line accidentally flickering upward. A sprig of artificial greenery taunted me, previously unnoticed by myself and Marik. Ryou must've hung it at some point, and here was Marik, leaning right beneath it.

It wasn't a big distance. One, maybe two steps. Right now, I didn't want to think better of it, or even really think at all. There was Marik, a few steps and a simple explanation away.

"Marik?" I cut him off mid-ramble, taking a half step in closer. My heart felt still, maybe waiting to see what happened next. The Egyptian paused, head tilting, about to question why I'd stopped him. I pointed upward to the plastic weed, his head tilting up to look. "Mistletoe," I said, leaning in and stretching up, my hands sliding to his shoulders.

Before either of us realised it, my lips had touched his, in the most soft way, barely making contact a second. Marik's head tilted down slightly, an accidental reflex that brushed our mouths again. I inhaled, heat flaring in my face and heart rushing.

He'd begun moving back, but I stepped forward, this time pressing our lips in close, gripping the sides of his shoulders. Marik's body was loose, shaking in his warm shirt. If this wasn't pleasure and everything I'd been longing for, I didn't know what was.

Pushing him into the kitchen, I backed him against the counter, not far from the door. His hands had grasped the sides of my shirt, not seeming intent on pulling us apart. Moving my hands from him, I shoved my palms down on the counter, pushing him back further.

I could feel his heart, going fast, resonating from within his shirt. Not only that, but his lips were moving in tiny motions, his fists pressed at my waist.

Eyes closed, I breathed in deeply through my nose, carefully poking my tongue between my teeth, letting it linger behind my bottom lip. Maybe I should back off. Hell, we weren't even under the mistletoe anymore. This was just making out, for close to no reason (not that fake mistletoe had been much of a reason to start with).

Then again, this was my chance. My own fantasy come true, right? Why not enjoy this?

So I pushed my tongue from its place, able to feel his mouth open in surprise, back arching against the counter. But he was shoving my midsection now, trying to get me off, not pull me closer, like he had been before.

Bilking my eyes open, I saw the whole of his dilated pupil, light violet iris surrounded in a panicked white. Our mouths broke contact, Marik having put more strength into his next shove.

We weren't touching, but our bodies were still close. At least, for a moment, we were, but in a hurried motion, Marik snatched my keys, which he'd dropped only fifteen minutes ago, before he bolted out the door.

I was left still, cursing any profanities I knew, hoping the idiot wouldn't drive carelessly on the snowy roads. What had I really expected, though? Shouldn't I've thought it through, said something more than just "mistletoe" before kissing my flatmate?

I hadn't thought it through, though, and so now here I was, standing alone.