The Assassin and The Thief

Chapter 4

(Bakura's POV)

I groan heavily, shifting in the new morning light. The noises of the city drown on outside my window, screeching of car horns letting me know that happily, I'm home. Stretching, my shoulders pop from their sockets. My hand hits someone in the face, and I jump from the sofa with cat-like instincts. Shakily trying to overcome the heart attack he just gave me, I observe my visitor as the guy I invited in last night. I struggle to remember his name: Melvin, wasn't it? I can't believe I didn't notice how fucking hot he is.

His skin is tanned and almost golden, exotic designs dancing across the smooth tones of his rippling muscles. His biceps are think and toned, leading into a solid torso and thick thighs in dark jeans. I love his hair the most. It's light and fluffy and sticks up messily in all directions, long strands over his shoulders and across his face. Leaning over, I shake him awake.

"Hey, hey man,"

His amethyst eyes snap open, I guess he's a light sleeper. His eyes have many shades of purple in them, possibly even a hint of crimson. They're beautiful, but sinister. Dark and malevolent like the hypnotising gaze of a wizard. "I shouldn't be here," he whispers. I sit up and frown.

"It's cool man, lotsa people pass out here," I reassure, standing up and lighting a cigarette. I walk over to he mirror, examining my dishevelled appearance. Yikes. I've lost weight, sunken eyes and deep frown lines on my face reflecting the recent deterioration of my health. My eyes have sunken deeply into my pale flesh, dark circles framing them. My chapped lips press together, dry from cigarette ash and...when was the last time I drank any water? "I'm going to the shower, feel free to stick around if you want. I got plenty for breakfast,"

Why am I so trusting? He has a kind face. And an even kinder body. Besides, if he tries anything everyone on this damn street would hunt him down at the request of everyone's favourite neighbourhood drug dealer.

(Marik's POV)

I watch him walk, mesmerised by the seductive swing of his hips, curves giving form to his otherwise too-skinny body, long arms hanging by his sides, bright, alabaster skin. His white hair cascades down his back, falling in healthy strands of right shining glory. I'm not blind; I know he look unhealthy. However, I can see past that into the dynamic soul swirling within his chest, just right of his full heart.

He must have a full heart. A kind, generous one, for letting me stay here and use his bathroom, his food, his drugs. I don't remember the last time someone was genuinely kind to me. It's a shame really, that he has to die at my hands. That the blood of someone so nice will spill across his floor after my knife slices through his skin, emptying his throat. But his fee is too high to reject. Seto Kaiba knows how to manipulate me and although I notice, I let him.

I notice something else as well, that artefact he wore around his neck is hanging over the edge of his shelf, golden charms tinkling off one another. I hold it, caressing it with my fingers, feeling the real gold as it shines with every movement. The eye in the centre captivated my attention, deep shadows encircling it like a light guiding doomed travellers in the black abyss. Wheee could he have gotten this? Could this be the reason, why I'm meant to kill him?

"Get the fuck away from my ring," I turn too see Bakura brandishing a pistol, arms extended. He points it right at my heart, walking forward so any shot would be at close range. The barrel touches my skin, the cold prickling radiating across my chest, as if turning my heart to ice before the chills seep through and freeze my arteries solid. I'm paralysed with terror. I look at him with desperate alarm.

He demands something, because I see his mouth move but don't hear him. Rolling my eyes back, I barely slip into a trance before my senses heighten dramatically. "What the hell were you doing with it?!"

"I-I'm sorry I just wanted to look..." I steal another glance to the ring which lays flat on the shelf, as if waiting patiently for something. "It's just... it's really beautiful. The design is odd but archetypical of Ancient Egyptian design, and likely has some superstition attached to-"

"Wait!" Bakura raises his hand to stop me, and for a second a feel a twinge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he won't kill me. How ironic it will be if he does, except with me gone nobody would be around to appreciate it. "You really just wanted a look?"

"Yeah!" I insist, eyes wide with innocence. "I didn't wanna steal it!"

He can tell I'm not lying. I know because as he carelessly tosses the pistol onto the couch, he doesn't cast me another suspicious glance or narrow his eyes. He simply discards any possibility that I'm dishonest. I can't tell if he's naive or extremely emotionally intelligent. "Sorry, man," Bakura scratches the back of his head, fingers knotted in his messy white hair.

"Not...a problem," I relay. We stare y each other in silence for a few seconds, the kind of semi-comfortable tension that between acquaintances after one just threatened to kill the other for a simple misunderstanding.

We're snapped out of this by a rhythmic knocking at his door.