So on the positive side, I posted this before June; on the positive-negative side, it's a bit overly long; on the negative-positive side I guess I won't continue naming the chapters like I have/I won't continue the epigraphs (I didn't know/don't think they added to the story for you guys much); on the negative side, I don't think I got my IB diploma, and the college I'll attend is easier than my high school with absolutely no prestige attached to the point I feel like I wasted four hard years of my life.

Also, the end of the first scene features Marik rather un-Marik-y, but remember that sometimes he isn't QUITE Marik. I do this as a warning because I LIVE for being as IC as I can be within reason, so no one fault me.

ALSO, I think some of you all really love to challenge me. Whenever I read a review or note that someone "just always loves what I write," I have this sort of "challenge accepted" look on my face and think of all kinds of horrors. Like, I wonder how many followers and fans I'd have if I wrote a really bad high school AU/Genderbent/Mpreg/rape/guro-vore/OOC/bad-OC/self -insert/Grammar hell/unreasonable crossover/etc type of fic.

Then I remember I'd kill myself before writing that, and I'd probably kill anyone who actually read it. C'mon, guys. You read from ME; you have to have higher standards than that!

Also, the lovely miss Jem Kallop looked this over before I posted it. I literally I'm just going to trust her, and if there is a mistake, she should have caught it. (I love ya, Jemmy!)

Marik sat firmly and quietly on one of Bakura and Ryo's hard kitchen chairs. The Egyptian made no complaints as he waited for his companion, Bakura, though he grew increasingly bored and agitated. Marik wanted nothing more to do with the thief, yet mostly occupied himself just by admiring the small apartment's quaintness and persona. Oddly enough the home's style looked liked neither Ryo's nor Bakura's taste. The place was possibly too small to make personal. The only furniture was the kitchen table and chairs, a small two-person couch, a TV with a TV set, and a lamp on a scratched-up wooden desk. The living area's faded red floor rug began to lift and wrinkle, and the tile in the kitchen looked old and cracked. Overall, the kitchen remained almost modern with a cleaned stainless steel fridge and microwave, but nothing else in the home had a sense of newness.

Bills and receipts lay on the kitchen table where Marik sat, and after so many minutes of tedious waiting and observing, Marik could no longer resist peeping at the two brothers' expenses. A bronze hand reached out to grab whatever was closest, and Marik scanned it. The bill was under Ryo's name, and apparently he was a month behind on a 121.57 dollar utilities bill. Soon enough Marik realized how bored he could become even being nosy. Bakura left Marik alone for far too long, and the blond has never been known for his patience.

Marik only followed Bakura to his home to retrieve his item. The older male insisted he knew exactly where it was and that he would return it quickly. Bakura locked himself in his room and insisted he look alone. After five minutes had passed, Marik had offered to help look through everything, but he was replied with an angry grunt of rejection. Fifteen minutes had passed, and Marik still waited in the kitchen, bored and agitated.

Marik finally decided to stand and barge into the room, until he felt pain in a leg and sat back down. Before the two decided to go to Bakura and Ryo's home, they began another nasty fight. Both had lain panting, but each knew that their mindless quarrelling needed to cease. Marik could not even remember why the two had fought again, and he actually regretted continuously arguing with the thief. After the small romping on the couch, Marik realized that, physically, Bakura was attractive, but not if Marik kept leaving bruises and cuts on the once perfectly porcelain skin. Marik took pride in his appearance, but he could hardly tell his skin used to be a beautiful bronze with nasty swelling and cuts marking his body.

Marik knew he had a short fuse, knew Bakura purposely annoyed him, knew the thief wronged him, knew the pale teen hurt him in those long fights, knew he hated the thief for what he had done, but Marik never truly fought Bakura for any of those reasons. Every time their eyes met, when their souls clashed, Marik's heart fell a little harder. Marik never felt such sorrow in all his life, his abusive and unfortunate life. While Marik had always been raised in less-than-loving conditions, he never felt sad about his circumstances. Marik experienced bitterness, rage, and envy of all those who could laugh even once without being scorned, yet never felt such a true and genuine sorrow. Marik fought Bakura so often because Bakura gave Marik an emotion even worse than those he had felt. Marik knew the life he so desperately sought since leaving his home country was shattering, and Marik wanted revenge on Bakura for ruining his small peace.

Yet Marik still stood in the pathetic home, reflecting on the small time he had spent with the thief. Marik loathed feeling the sadness from looking at Bakura, wanted the thief to simply rot for his inference, yet Marik also dreaded the fact that even a small door separated them. Bakura interacted with Marik easily, made everything seem liked a natural stream of events despite their unusual circumstances, created emotions in the heart Marik already assumed was dead - ones of security and openness, and most importantly always fought back without really going too far. Bakura stayed even though he kept ranting his disapproval. Bakura planned to return his item, something precious and that could easily afford two houses for both Ryo and himself. Bakura deserved to be hated by Marik -and Marik did certainly hate him- but Marik seemed to hate him for the wrong reasons.

Marik rested his leg a moment longer before getting up once more. Marik stretched to pop it in its place, which relieved much stress, and walked around. Bakura told him to stay put, but the thief took far too long. Marik eyed the kitchen for anything interesting, and noticed a note on the counter between some pots. The penmanship looked too clean to be Bakura's, and Marik did not really want to involve himself in Ryo's business, but, well, he was bored.

Marik imagined the twins would be too unsocial to have many friends, and the apartment clearly only homed the two, so Marik assumed the letter could be distant family. When he skimmed it over and saw the word sister, Marik figured he was right. Since it was not a love letter or anything, Marik decided to ease his curiosity and read the note.

Hey, Amane,

Bakura is an idiot. He really is. I know I wrote last time that he was caught stealing, but now we know his sentence. He's so lucky about his punishment, but I think he's out stealing again. I heard him sneak out, and I checked his room to find it empty. He's really angry about being caught, but I can't stand the idea of him leaving again. I know something is going to happen tonight. I know you must think I'm crazy, but I know.

Something is off about tonight. Bakura is a great thief, so I should never be able to tell when he sneaks away. I want to say it's because I was actually awake, but even despite that he was loud enough to hear. I really have a bad feeling about this, sis. The main reason I was awake was because I had a bad dream, too.

I don't know why, but I just kept seeing these shadows, just the two of them. They didn't talk, but they kept pushing gold at me, and shoving it my way, and I couldn't even carry it all. Gold is naturally heavy, I guess, but it was different. The shadows - whom I could just tell were smiling cruelly - kept pushing me with the gold after I told them to stop crushing me with it all, like it was weighing down the entire world on me.

I know you never understood greed very well, Ame, but there's something wrong with gold. Bakura should not be going out tonight, I know it. It's so heavy. It's such a heavy burden to carry when stealing, and that is just … He's going to get caught. I know he doesn't normally steal for selfish reason, I know, but tonight is different. He's not doing it to make some money for us, so he's just being stupid. He's stupid for trying to make money that way, but I know he's doing the best he can for us, for me.

Just not now. Not tonight. I know I should have stopped him, but a part of me …

Ame, please look over him. He's doing something bad, but somehow this could be a blessing in disguise. The shadows know, and they told me so. The shadows looked cruel, but they still understand and give a sort of wealth. Whatever happens, please help it be for the best.

Sorry for not writing in awhile. Bakura may be coming back in, and he sounds really disgruntled. Gotta stop and hide this before he sees me!

Please watch over him,

Ryo.

Marik furrowed his brows in confusion after reading the note. The blond folded it like it was originally and put it in its original spot. Marik's heart almost softened for Bakura when he realized that the thief stole for his brother, but the fact that he stole from Marik simply from bitterness brought Marik's respect back down. Still, Marik noticed the eerily prophetic dream Ryo recalled, and wondered what else the dream tried to tell the boy. A part of Marik wondered a bit about Amane, but his distraction ended, and the note reminded him that Bakura took his gold.

Marik finally decided to ignore Bakura's request, and barged into the young thief's room. Marik's eyes widened, and he rushed inside. Bakura, with the ancient golden ring around his neck, lay unconscious on the floor, a position that no one would be in if they were purposefully sleeping. His tongue fell from his open mouth, and his white skin seemed to pale even further from a lack of blood flow. Marik touched Bakura's cold skin, a pulse present but faint, and assumed Bakura fell ill the moment he walked in the door.

The pain at seeing Bakura lying unmoving and so unlike his snappy self knocked the wind from Marik's lungs. Marik tried to remain calm, but the sight of his companion in a comatose state unnerved him, causing him to hyperventilate. Marik started gasping hard and reaching for Bakura, clutching the still body. The blond took deep, long breaths whenever he could rationalize that he needed to calm down, but seeing Bakura in such a state reminded him of the darkness in his childhood, as well as another past that he actually failed to recall.

Marik knew he needed to compose himself, but his head pounded with painful memories and his heart swelled with a sadness that he had never felt before. The worst part of the situation was that Marik simply could not understand why he reacted so strongly when the man he claimed to hate looked dead on the carpet. Something gnawed at Marik's heart, guilt and pain, but why he had to sense them so deeply unnerved the blond even more. Marik reached for Bakura without looking, straining his uncontrollable body, and grasped the ring lying on Bakura's heart.

Within moments Marik lay unconscious as well.

[M*S]

Isis eyed her brother warily when she caught him sighing for the fourth time within the hour. As poor runaways, the older sibling knew life constantly avoiding the outside world and people was difficult for anyone, but Namu never fussed over leaving as much as he had recently. The marketplace contained so many people and countless chances of being taken away and sold into slavery, but Isis took their chances at the marketplace over certain death in the desert when she sent Namu. After the rare experience, Namu held more hope than ever in his eyes, but also a bitter sadness.

"A sandstorm is brewing near us," Namu commented nonchalantly as he gazed out of their small hut in the open desert. After Namu's encounter with Akefia, he and Isis finally had enough energy to wander the brutal sands longer to find an actual place to protect them from the blazing sun. Shelter, though indirect, was another gift to add to Namu's ever-growing list of debts to the supposed heartless thief.

"You should close the window then." Isis watched Namu's hesitant hands lethargically close the small entrance as the storm approach and sighed. "When the storm passes, would you like to go into town?"

Namu turned on his heels quickly and nodded furiously. "Wh-why the sudden desire to go?" Namu asked trying to not seem so eager and question Isis.

Isis smiled softly. The mature sister stood and kissed Namu on the forehead, wiping away some of the sweat and sand there. "My heart is not the one changing, brother. Never have you asked for anything but measly portions of bread when we can get it, but you want to go. I know your heart desires it. All I wish to know is why," Isis explained gently despite her strong intuition knowing already.

Namu sighed again and looked at the closed window, hoping the storm would pass quickly. "You are not to know, sister."

[*]

Though highly beautiful beyond her lowly status, Isis walked into the marketplace wearing a full body covering as she scouted the area. No one of certain authority ventured through the bazaar, and Isis motioned for Namu to follow. The boy worried about someone recognizing him from his last visit, but he realized that after so many days, every face blended together. Besides, Akefia returned his money, so when Isis was not looking, Namu could buy something nice for the two.

Namu assumed he would buy her a watermelon as a special treat, but after passing through the vendors, Namu saw Isis stare at a trinket stand for more than two seconds. Considering how low maintenance Isis learnt to live, knowing that something caught her eye at all proved she wanted it. Isis continued walking aimlessly afterward, but Namu held her hand and firmly stopped.

"Namu? What is it, brother?"

"You! We are here, and all you have done is walk around aimlessly. Let us actually look at the items here, sister Isis! Come," Namu ordered walking to the trinkets.

"Brother, we mustn't! We have no place looking at fine items like that. Please, let us find a fruit vendor and leave. We came so that you could relax and feel more social, not to buy anything in particular!" Isis, despite her protest, found her feet following Namu's steps and walking to the vendor that caught her eye before.

"Oh? Not buy anything in particular, miss?" an elderly woman repeated, surveying Isis with a keen smile. "Not so, my dear. Why, you remind me of my own daughter before she got hit by that small plague years ago. Except you have the most beautiful sky eyes, and your brother such sweet sand-colored eyes."

"Thank you, madam," Namu peeped with a sense of both pride and embarrassment. "I, uh, just wanted my sister to look around. Would you mind if she tried on some of your items? We can't buy any, but we've never been able to be around such beautiful trinkets before."

"Son, of course she may!" The woman beamed as she urged Isis and Namu closer. "I have plenty for you, sweetie. You both have such great eyes. I can see a very long and important destiny for each of you. Give an old woman the small pleasure of helping such spectacular youth!"

"Miss, we really ought not. I am sorry for wasting your time, but surely you should spend your time on people interested in buying."

"Not true! Most of my items are worth a fortune, and I'm located in the poorest bazaar within all the land where the sun shines! I set this stand up as a hobby. Most of the time thieves strike when I'm not looking anyway, or the poor just ignore me. You two are the first to stop by my stand honestly in years!"

Isis pursed her lips, but eventually succumbed to the pressing request. The old woman beckoned her behind her stand, closing the fabric curtain so Isis could change in private, and Namu stood waiting outside the stand, wondering why he could not join his sister. Even though the market held fascinating places, he did not want to stray from his sister. Namu fooled himself into thinking a visit to the marketplace would bring a special adventure. The young boy smiled when he remembered his last encounter with someone his age, and wondered if anyone else would talk to him.

Sadly, Namu knew even the poorest of marketplace dwellers would not waste time on riffraff. In comparison to someone like Namu who looked battered and worthless without actually working an honest position in the workforce, even slaves were regarded more kindly because they actually served an important part in society. Other than Isis, no one would mind if Namu died, and that thought sat far too heavily in the heart of the young child.

Namu sighed, wondering why Isis took so long to try on the various trinkets, but waited alone yet. Gazing longingly at the citizens walking by him, Namu finally sat down and leaned on the board of the trinket sign. Soon, before he even noticed, his eyes and mouth were covered, and someone from behind was ushering him to his feet.

"Miss me?" a familiar voice chuckled as the hands roughly spun Namu around, detaching themselves from his eyes.

"Yes," Namu whispered almost dreamily with his voice airy and disbelieving. The boy before Namu had smeared ink across his entire right side, and dirt mixed as solid into his hair as to make it appear as one solid mass. The boy wore tattered clothes, like the clothes of a slave, and walked on bare, black-bottomed soles. Regardless, Namu knew those hard amethyst eyes. "Akef-"

"Not my name!" Akefia scolded in a harsh but hushed tone. "Never my name. Not without 'Thief King' attached."

"But then what do I call you?" Namu asked innocently. "I've been wanting to see you for so long. I need to thank you properly!"

Akefia smirked and shook his head. "Even if we look like scum of the streets, people are questioning us. We deserve no gratitude, in their opinion. We should talk in private." Akefia quickly glanced around the street, but Namu grabbed his face and forced the thief to keep eye contact.

"I can't leave now. I'm with my sister." Namu pursed his lips and eyed the thief longingly. "Please, stay with me. We can laugh, and play, and live, and help each other. We can be friends. My sister and I struggle, but we can always extend a hand to the person who saved our lives!" Namu's normally soft honey eyes raged with determination and hope, ordering Akefia to agree to a futile request.

Akefia disregarded Namu's request and turned his side to the boy as he sat on the hot street sands. "I am not your savior, nor will I ever be your friend."

"Then why have you come to see me? Is it time for you to collect your due?"

"No." Akefia sighed to himself and took a small breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were really here. I mean, you are an idiot, so I need to make sure you survive long enough that you serve me at some point or another. I can't believe you're stupid enough to even come into the marketplace so soon after that horrific event last time. At least try to look unrecognizable!" Akefia scolded as passionately as he could while still keeping his voice down. The thief gestured to his current appearance, and Namu realized why Akefia looked so covered.

"So if you're all disguised, does that mean the great thief king was caught? Do you hide in fear?" Namu asked jokingly as he decided to sit near the thief.

"Of course not! This is my disguise to thieve whenever I want the rumors to stray away from my true appearance." Akefia glared at Namu, but the corners of his lips flicked upwards in a real smile.

"You're amazing then. You have so much experience doing things like this. I almost lost my arm just for a rotten apple." Namu sighed in awe, looking up at the sky. "It would have been easier if you let me die then. Isis would die as consequence, but that may have been better than owing my salvation to some kid thief."

Akefia growled. "Take that back, brat!" The thief ordered grabbing Namu and shaking him roughly.

Namu pushed Akefia away with a hard shove, but Akefia only pushed back. In turn the two began a pushing contest, both smiling and laughing with each playful shove. Namu went in for another push, but jumped to his feet after hearing a voice shout his name from behind.

Namu turned to face an unusually angry Isis. The brunet gulped and questioned the beautiful woman before him. Instead of rags, Isis wore a gown fit for the royals, with colors of myth like deep blue and emerald green adorning the fine silken fabrics with gems and embroidery of rare dyes. Her gown, for all its heavy decorations, actually did fit her gentle hourglass frame. Isis wore a clean white covering that had golden trim and a head covering specially cut to be shaped like a fierce bird, golden trim for the beak. Best yet was the fact Isis' youthful and hardened face actually glowed from the small wash the old woman gave her behind the stall, and the cleanliness alone set her apart from the entire plaza of people. The last part of her transformation involved a renewed kohl tracing neither had gotten for several years, almost promising that Isis' grand and intuitive sight would be protected by the gods.

"Isis, you look like royalty," Namu dumbly said, awestruck.

Isis' hard gaze never faltered as she inspected Akefia. "No time for flattery, Namu. Who is this boy?" Isis' tone was cool and collected, but worry and pity stirred in her stomach the longer she looked at the dirty boy's visage.

"I'm leaving," Akefia quickly replied. "We shall see each other soon, Namu," The thief stated while looking solely at Namu with a mixture between need and authority in his eyes. Isis reached out to grab Akefia's arm, but he disregarded her easily. "You should be ashamed of yourself for looking like one of those palace scum," The thief commented darkly.

Akefia turned on his heels and sprinted faster than Namu or Isis could even blink. If the two siblings had not been watching Akefia before he escaped, they would never have noticed him at all. The way his dirtied body glided cleanly through the streets awed Namu, who noticed every flex and twisted position the thief morphed into to maneuver between the small nooks hidden in the market streets. Stands stood with ample room between, and people walked among all spaces, yet Akefia continued to move seamlessly. Akefia's hurried movements created an irregular type of dance that fitted the light music in the air played by various of the street performers. What could be seen enchanted everyone so well with its keen movement pattern, they had no time to register at all that Akefia really ran by at all versus just being a mirage caused by the blazing sun on the bustling streets. All especially could not notice that Akefia pocketed some of their money as he flitted away.

Namu instantly understood why Akefia boasted that he would become the 'Thief King' of the ages. In all honesty Namu would call the child the master of thieves already. In his improved comprehension of how one acted as a great thief, Namu's heart swelled and beat a little faster in admiration. Thievery would cause heartache, he knew, with punishments no less than limbs being painfully hacked off, but then the riches and freedom almost seemed to outweigh those consequences. Releasing another sigh of admiration, Namu turned back to Isis.

"Aren't you going to take those clothes off? I think people will get angry if you fool them into thinking you're someone special," Namu explained.

"Everyone is special, Namu. The kind vendor has given me all this. She would not explain why in words, but I know she expects these clothes to change our situation in a very big way. Somehow this makes me appear a little bit … more special." Isis closed her eyes and sat by Namu, ignoring the odd stares as usual.

Namu never understood as much as Isis did, but he knew that his sister knew more than she would say. The young boy held his sister's glorified face and examined her with the curiosity that only a child could possess. Isis looked more than special, remarkable even, but that only reflected on the outside how Namu always saw her on the inside. The idea of mere clothes changing anything baffled the younger sibling, yet he accepted that if Isis predicted internally that, in essence, the sands in an hourglass would fall the other way, the only truth would be such.

Isis swatted Namu's prying hands away from her face, and she gave him a small, gentle smile, a smile that pierced through his unasked questions and curiosity. "Everyone is special," Isis stated again with an unexpected gravity to her tone, "Do remember that special does not always mean good. That boy … is special beyond belief. I want you to cease any contact with him. That is an order, brother." Isis grabbed Namu's shoulders and met his defiant and hurt gaze. Though she desperately hated that expression, Isis had no intention of backing down.

"An order I am in no control to follow, sister."

Isis still held onto Namu, yet she knew that where he stood on the matter could not be changed. Honey drops grew as black pupils narrowed in unleashed rage. The two exchanged no more words, quieted by their mutual disagreement. A forceful wind blew and sprinkled sparse specks of sand into their open eyes, promptly separating the siblings who needed to rid of the annoying grains.

With the wind came a wave of palace riders. The camels and horses rushed directly to Namu and Isis in an unstoppable stampede. Any attempt at halting the moving creatures would have been laughable, as they crashed directly into the small shop of trinkets Isis visited prior, squashing the feeble structure in its entirety.

Wooden pillars tumbled on the siblings, but Isis' instincts reacted quickly and she grabbed a loose pillar in an angle over her and Namu to hinder the other falling beams. The camels in the back stopped well enough and did not cause more damage, but the few in the front caused more than enough damage. Items of every kind littered the hard dirt street, and many crude individuals ran off quickly after taking at least one. The thievery held little consequences because the kind owner's blood leaked into the ground quickly under the rubble, signifying her quick death. The rider of the first camel had fallen, but he died by the other creatures stomping on his prostrate body.

Unlike the first camel's rider, another man had fallen off after the crash, and lay on top of the shop's debris. Isis strained her arm, but her plan worked as much of the worst debris bounced or fell away from her and Namu. The wise sister discarded the beam quickly and assessed her surroundings. Once Isis noted that Namu remained completely unharmed, she headed to the person lying on the old shop; he looked wounded, but not in the way that signified helping him would be a fruitless effort. The man wore royal blue clothes adorned with gold, and Isis assumed the gold likely acted as a small shield from any of the major damage.

The man did not whimper in pain, but his wounds were clear, and Isis approached him purposefully. At the moment she stepped less than a foot away from the royal, a pointed spear dived only an inch from her throat.

"Halt! No one may touch the High Priest Set!" a guard shouted.

"I do not need to touch him. I only wish to observe. His neck is obviously hurt, but not shattered or broken. Someone who knows pressure points in the body should handle him very soon." Isis gave the man another once-over. "He will definitely survive," Isis commented while she also observed the lessening blood soaking into the sand. The old woman and Isis never even exchanged names, but oddly enough Isis still felt an undesired loss. She was a nameless merchant, yet worth more to Isis than the royal Priest Set who remained relatively unharmed.

Namu regarded the situation with even colder and duller eyes than Isis. The boy's heart dropped upon seeing the accident, knowing he could just as easily have been crushed and killed, and not one of the palace guards would even bat an eye. The old woman never deserved her death, but she was treated as a fly on the wall, and even the one crushed by the horses merited no attention. If only ever so slightly, Namu experienced his first taste of the true nature of the royals, realizing why Akefia scorned them so deeply.

"Your words have been regarded, miss!" Another guard shouted, giving Isis a small bow. "We shall take Priest Set away immediately. You are ordered to join us in case we need the words of a mystic," The guard commanded as two guards carried Isis to the riderless camel.

"Hey, what are you doing! Give her back!" Namu order as he ran to Isis before a guard stopped him in his place.

"Halt! We shall not let a mighty mystic be tainted by riffraff. Be grateful she saved you from the falling rubble. From her elegant form and wisdom, she is clearly above you."

"He is my brother, and will come with us," Isis nearly spat, unlike her usually calm demeanor. "Allow him to ride with me, or I shall not permit you to use my services." Isis' tone spoke so firmly and absolutely that no one could argue, especially because they still needed to help Priest Set quickly.

Namu was unwillingly hoisted up to ride with his sister, and he hated every moment of it. Isis apologized with her rueful eyes, but Namu knew she would not ignore the chance to be treated well and possibly to gain a real meal. The betrayal stung, but Namu silenced himself, if for nothing else than to finally see Isis treated like a worthy noble. The charade would likely not last long anyway, but Namu had first hand experience of just how fickle the palace kind were, and he steeled his nerves for anything.

In that moment, Namu decided he would never let anything happen to those he loved, especially Akefia. Isis loved and provided for Namu much like a mother, to which Namu could never vocalize his proper gratitude, but knew Isis would live well or better without Namu. Akefia was different, noble though a criminal. Despite everything the thief could do, some things in life were hard to avoid, and Namu knew Akefia thought too highly of himself to prepare for those unexpected hindrances. Namu would not let anything happen to the thief, not ever.

Namu promised himself that he would not let Akefia fall, or that he would fall himself.

[M*S]

Ryo entered the apartment slowly, observing every little detail. As a whole, not much was broken and destroyed, but the mess still remained. The couch had a few tears, and a glass or two shattered on the kitchen tile. Other non-breakable items scattered across the floor and tables in disarray, but at least with a little organizing those would be alright. Melvin followed inside with inflamed eyes. Ryo turned to his lover and grasped his hand calmly.

"I-I'm sure there's a reason for this. They probably got into a big fight," Ryo noted as he surveyed a bit more.

"This isn't even a fight scene! It looks like they tried to kill each other, and it's pissing me off that I don't see any corpses!" Melvin punched a spot in the wall that already had a dent, causing a large hole. The hole fumed Melvin's rage all the more.

Ryo sighed at Melvin's behavior. While he understood that the destruction to his home was uncalled for, Ryo wished Melvin understood that his anger only made things worse. Feeling gutsy, Ryo made another approach to the livid blond, stood on the pad of his foot, wrapped his arms tightly against Melvin's rigid body, and kissed him softly on the mouth. Luckily the kiss assuaged Melvin's hot fury, but all those pent up emotions were released on Ryo as the kiss heated.

Melvin pressed their bodies closer, pressing his hands on Ryo's back. Ryo did not try to leave or stop at first, but when air became a need, both understood and parted for some shallow gasping. Neither really moved from the close position, but a small blush did grace Ryo's cheeks. "This is kind of inappropriate. We should tidy the place up a bit."

Melvin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Those bastards ruined it, so they should clean it."

Ryo inwardly smirked, but kept his outward expression clean and innocent. "If the place remains so scattered, it would make doing certain … activities difficult and uncomfortable," Ryo explained smoothly as he traced two fingers down Melvin's form. Ryo's eyes bore straight into Melvin's soul, and as unnerving as the concept was, Melvin did not mind surrendering to the little manipulator in his arms.

"I'd rather just do those 'activities' on the wall then. No cleaning needed, and I'd certainly 'support' you so that you won't be too uncomfortable." Melvin waggled his eyebrows, but Ryo rolled his eyes.

"That could only work well if you were the one penetrating. You and I both know that will not be the case," Ryo replied simply before slipping effortlessly from Melvin's grip. The shorter male carefully walked into the kitchen and beckoned Melvin to follow, which the blond did.

"Well?" Melvin asked irritably.

"Where is the broom or other cleaning items? Despite your complaints, we should clean the mess up."

Melvin glared at the other male before turning around and grabbing a broom from the kitchen closet behind Ryo. "Here," Melvin mumbled.

"Thanks," Ryo said with a smile, kissing Melvin on the cheek. "But I didn't stutter when I said we should clean this mess." Ryo noticed Melvin glare again, but held the other to assuage his temper. "We can make it a game."

"A game?" Melvin questioned. The blond's eyes drooped a little as though he were bored of the idea already, but Melvin honestly loved games, or rather, loved winning them.

"Well, yes and no." Ryo sucked on his lower lip before continuing. Ryo enjoyed the idea of just being around Melvin, and he had learned much about the other in the time they had shared, but he was not satisfied. Ryo knew so little of Melvin, and the thought almost frightened him when he recalled all that they had already done and wanted to do. "How about we just ask each other questions back and forth. Whoever refuses to answer one first is the loser."

Melvin rolled his eyes, but suddenly understood how to make Ryo's pathetic excuse for a game fun. "Will there be a prize for the winner?"

"Naturally," Ryo answered with a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Can I go first?"

"Sure, but you better get in the living room and start organizing." Ryo quite literally pushed Melvin out of the kitchen into the supposed living area. Melvin grumbled, but started to collect the torn sofa cushions and clean the room in general.

"I'm going first, so I have to ask, why the hell do you want to top me?"

"Because all things considered, the idea of taking you down seems so … natural. I never even kissed anyone on the lips before I met you, and I barely know you. I feel so comfortable with you, like I'm naturally supposed to control and be controlled by you. That, and it's completely fair of me to ask!" Ryo said the last part in a huff, almost losing his grip on the broom as he swept because he could not control his emotions very well. "Anyway, uh, what stopped you from completely beating me up at the library yesterday?"

"Honestly, you made me so hard when you got on your knees, touching me, that if I didn't leave I'd have fucked you right there." Melvin finished placing the last cushion in the right spot on the rickety sofa, and decided to rest on the freshly made area. Ryo cleaned well enough, so Melvin figured that the smaller male could finish the rest. "Anyway, why is your hair so damn long?"

"It's not as long as Bakura's! My hair just … I don't want to cut it. My sister always liked it long, so I do it in her memory. I'll … cut it one day, but not yet." Ryo mindlessly swept the same spot in the kitchen twice, becoming so lost in thought that he barely registered even his own response. Ryo vaguely recalled that he needed to ask a question, and snapped from his daze. "Do you hate your brother?"

"With every pulsing vein in me. It's his fault. Everything is his fault." Melvin sighed and closed his eyes. The blond swayed his long arm over the edge of the sofa, and suddenly touched a sheet a paper. Pulling the paper to his face, he read the note that was not written by Marik with a sneer. "Our asshole brothers left a note. They're at your place. Doesn't say when they'll be back."

"Huh? I hope they don't tear apart our place like here. Not that we have much anyway," Ryo commented lowly as he picked up the larger pieces of glass that were too heavy for the dustpan to hold. "Don't you owe me a question?"

"Huh? Yeah. Uh, do you hate your brother?" Melvin asked almost nonchalantly, honestly growing bored of their game.

"Not entirely. Bakura's both the reason for all of my grief, and many of my joys," Ryo noted with a distant smile. His feet started to move before he really realized, and suddenly Ryo found himself lying atop of Melvin, content not to clean for awhile. "His stupidity helped me meet you, after all."

Melvin began running his hands with ease over Ryo's body, touching the long white hair as well. Melvin secretly adored Ryo's hair, and liked the length greatly. On one hand it was not cliche "silky smooth and soft," but on the other hand it was strong and able to be gripped in the throes of passion without damage. Ryo was much like his hair: clean and pure, but still with more than a few hard knots and difficult to completely manage. Ryo did not falter under Melvin's touch from fear or panic, but merely let things happen and flow through him, even if it caused a small tangle or made things a little dirty. In the end, Ryo always turned back to white and fixed the little knots and tears in his life, and Melvin understood that to be truly tremendous. Melvin never realized how much he could want to just hold someone, but Ryo made it seem so natural, and that pressed the most important question of all: "Seriously, why haven't we had sex already? I know you want to, creampuff. It's only natural that we do!"

Ryo released a hearty laugh at Melvin's expense. The blond sounded so offended and distressed, that Ryo could only cackle at the insultes tone. Melvin could feel the ripples of laughter on his own body as Ryo lay on top of him, and the blond almost would have laughed too until he remembered the agreement.

"You better answer me or I win!"

"Y-yeah, yeah," Ryo responded, still with a smile in his voice. "Other than the fact that I want to top, I'm entirely uncomfortable with sleeping with someone I hardly know. Even though I'm comfortable around you, and it seems natural to have sex with you, I can't help but remember how distant we really are."

"Oh," Melvin said simply. "So after this game, if you know me better, you'll have sex with me?"

"You can't ask two questions in a row, Melvin. That's cheating. As penalty, I ask two and don't answer that one." Ryo smirked and tried to think of an important question. "So … why, uh, Melvin? Marik has an exotic name, but then you have Melvin, and it's kind of, uh, unexpected."

Ryo could feel Melvin tense. The blond stopped moving his hands over Ryo, actually stopped moving in general, and his beautiful violet eyes were hidden behind bronze lids. The blond was fully aware that he needed to answer the question or lose the game, but Ryo never said he had to answer honestly. Melvin tried to think of a reason other the truth, but when he opened his eyes and gazed at Ryo's curious brown orbs, his mouth shut. Before he could stop himself, his lips began to shape the words of the truth, and knowing that he was telling Ryo everything, Melvin did not entirely mind.

"It isn't my real name. I chose it on the boat ride to this country. I was smuggled in. My sister, well, the woman who shares my blood, only got passports for Marik. I was livid, so livid, that when we, Marik and me because Ishizu lived in America, still lives in Egypt, I lashed out at Marik. He was the favorite and perfect son. He's the firstborn, the pampered little prince in the tomb we called home. I was so mad that no one bothered to try and take me with them legally, that I stayed in the darkness of our home, pretending like I ran away.

"No one cared really that I supposedly left. I heard that Marik was upset if only even barely, but he still continued to pack his bags in preparation of leaving that hellhole. Eventually, I managed to sneak into Marik's larger bags, hiding in the darkness, and snuck aboard. Marik pretended to be happy to see me when I revealed myself halfway through the sea journey, but he hates me. He blames me for things I couldn't control. He told me I better create a name for myself if I intended to stay in America with him, but I wasn't very good at English and idioms, so I took it literally. One of the people inside the room on the ship was named Melvin, so I took it. It was the only name that didn't seem Egyptian, so I thought it would help me to fit in better. I know it isn't completely relevant to the first question, but I figured that the sooner you learn about me the sooner you'll let me fuck you, right?"

Ryo had remained silent for the duration of Melvin's story, but slightly punched the larger male for the comment at the end. Ryo should have known Melvin would not have revealed such a personal story so selflessly, yet the white-haired male could not help but feel slightly giddy to know that much more about his supposed lover.

"I have another question left that relates to that," Ryo said sweetly, still happy with the last answer. Melvin scoffed because he felt slightly cheated out of a question, but let it go and allowed Ryo to ask his question. "What is your real name?"

"Kek," Melvin gave no hesitation. The single syllable almost sounded foreign even on his own lips, though he honestly did try to forget it.

"Kek," Ryo said to himself. "Kek. Kek, Kek, Kek," He repeated, enjoying how it rolled from his tongue, really tasting the feeling of saying it. "Kekekekekek!" Ryo said even louder, almost as an awkward chuckle.

Melvin glared at Ryo, but did not stop him. "That isn't my name now, Ryo."

Ryo froze and stopped, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, Melvin. I just … I think it really suits you. It's a little dark, almost like a deep, cruel chuckle, but then it's simple and to the point. You look like a Kek. I like it. Your name … your name is Kek," Ryo stated softly, not wanting to offend Melvin, but also wanting to use his love's true name.

"That doesn't matter!" Melvin exclaimed with a scowl. "It means god of darkness. That's what they thought of me when I was born, that I was a dark monster! It even sounds a bit like Marik. They just named me something as a default. They didn't care. They just wanted to keep me in the darkness." With each passing word Melvin gripped Ryo a bit more tightly, not even aware of his own crushing strength.

Ryo winced from the pain, but he still reached out a hand and cupped Melvin's face sweetly. "Melvin, you are a god of darkness. You're an absolute psychopath with a bloodlust the likes of which I've never seen before. They gave you a name, they did, and so they cared. You became a god to them. You're utter darkness and everything scary about and in the darkness, and yet you refuse your name? Melvin doesn't suit you at all. Melvin wasn't your real choice. Melvin doesn't define you." Ryo kissed Melvin on the lips sweetly for a calming effect. "If nothing else - if there's one thing that I know matters to you - know that it will be a lot more pleasant to scream Kek when we will have sex than Melvin. So can I, Melvin? Will you let me call you Kek?" Ryo asked with the kindest expression.

Melvin remained silent for a moment, keeping his arms around Ryo, but loosening his grip slightly. "You think I have a bloodlust?"

"Well, I think you're more of a sadist than anything," Ryo answered simply and honestly.

"You just called me a psychopath," Melvin retorted.

"I think it's kind of cute on you. A little creepy when the veins show, but cute." Ryo shrugged his shoulders, and pretended like it was only natural to find the deranged male rather handsome.

"You think I'm a god of darkness?" Melvin questioned at last. Pondering violet eyes observed the striking nonchalance in the maroon eyes. Everything seemed to depend on Ryo's final answer.

Ryo smiled and kissed his lover again. With a smirk, he confidently replied: "You're possibly the God of darkness."

Melvin brought Ryo closer again, but instead of merely kissing, the blond trailed his hands lower and into Ryo's pants, causing the smaller male to gasp.

"Melvin!" Ryo exclaimed, cheeks flushed.

"No," the blond replied with a smirk. "Call me Kek."

Ryo chuckled as best he could when Kek still had his hands down his pants, but moaned all the same, "Keeek! It's your turn to ask a question!"

[M*S]

Marik opened his eyes hesitantly. The blond noticed himself lying on a relatively comfy bed instead of the floor, and that Bakura was nowhere to be found. The blond lifted himself from the bed slightly, resting himself on his elbow, and wondered what exactly could have happened. With a slight awkwardness, Marik kicked his feet over the side of the bed, but before he got up, Bakura already walked into the room.

"Well," Bakura spoke dully, "What happened?" The older male's tone held a hint of accusation, but Marik let it slide.

"I'm not exactly sure. I hoped you could tell me." Marik surveyed the small room, saw the faded carpet and sheets, noted the lack of pictures or personal mementos, witnessed flies buzzing around a pizza crust on a dirty plate on the dresser, and most importantly observed the tiny gleam of gold from the Millennium Ring around Bakura's neck. "Aren't you supposed to give that back?"

Bakura sighed. The thief stared at the golden item hanging around his neck. Hesitantly, he lifted the item by its cord to pass to Marik. When Marik did not openly reach for it right when he extended the thing to him, Bakura growled. "Take it if you want it so much!"

Marik stilled. The blond eyed the object before him, and wondered what magic it truly possessed. When Marik reached for it, he also grabbed it by the cord, and placed the item to the side. "I had an … unusual dream. I found you lying on the floor, and I guess I, I guess I passed out, as well." Marik sighed and looked up at Bakura's angry eyes. "I panicked when I saw you like that. I wanted to help you, but I still failed. I failed … you. Somehow."

Bakura scrunched the bridge of his nose and turned away. "You aren't forgiven. You're bloody heavy! You had your hands on the ring, and all your body on top of me!" Bakura fumed. "I fucking worried that I'd have to hide a corpse or something! I especially didn't want to deal with yours!"

Marik smiled and stood, towering over Bakura by perhaps two or three inches, and completely forgetting about the Ring on the bed. Bakura found it too cowardly to turn away, even when he felt one of Marik's hands cup his face, almost in an endearing caress.

"Thanks for not leaving me on the floor. You … are not so bad." Marik, for whatever reason, smiled at Bakura just before leaning in to hug the other. Bakura did not wrap his arms around Marik, yet the blond knew he felt Bakura's arms twitch as though he wanted to. Every time he referred to Bakura as you, a string tugged inside him, and Marik wondered what exactly he meant by the statement. Marik did not allow himself to focus on that detail, remembering all that still needed to be done. "I should probably get back. Melvin is going to be livid with how we left the house."

Finally Bakura showed his typical smirk. "Yeah, well, it was a very good fight. I'm surprised no one lost a tooth." Just to be safe they both subconsciously licked their teeth to make sure all were present. "Anyway, maybe a messy home will distract that idiot from laying any fingers on Ryo."

"Ha! That is a good joke. Without our supervision, I bet they are having sex right n- We should go."

Bakura's eyes hardened, but nodded in agreement. "If they are, I'm killing you for taking so long to wake up!"

"You waited for me?" Marik asked with a smug smile.

"Of bloody course not! I just wanted you to explain what the hell happened, which you proved unable to do, useless," Bakura added with a hint of annoyance. "Besides, if I have one more damn dream or vision or whatever with those little Akefia-Namu brats, I will maim you. They're getting too bloody weird to handle!"

Marik eyed Bakura, but understood fully well. "It is closer that they, I cannot explain it well, that they just seem so personal and close-to-home at times. The one you had just now, were they of the two as children?"

Bakura remained silent for a moment. Marik had all the answer he needed, yet a thousand more came into his confused head.

"Seriously, we need to go. Your brother will die if he dares to try and touch Ryo."

The two needed no more words to be exchanged to understand the clear mission at hand: ruining their brothers' sex lives swiftly and assuredly. In their daze Marik entirely forgot to grab the Ring, forgetting its importance the more he spoke to his supposed enemy and friend.

So I will officially refer to Melvin as Kek now. I love that name, and I hope other it spreads within the fandom. It's a million times better than Melvin or Mariku or whatever. Plus, it does have meaning. I explained my love of that name within the chapter by Ryo's evil chuckle of Kek and the god of darkness thing. It's nice that he has more backstory now with his name and vaguely his and Marik's childhoods.

Quiz time!

(1) What is my favorite sentence from this chapter?

(2) Which scene/description is my third favorite within the entire story?

(3) What is my middle name? (Those who I've told are not eligible)

(4) What was the second essay on which I wrote for the timezone 1 IB History of the Americas Communism and Crisis Paper 3?

(5) Name all the senior superlatives given to the Bartow Class of 2013, who received them, and what I wore for mine.