Defeat

Defeat

Rated: PG-13

Pairing: Bakura/Yami

Summary: Bakura cheats on Yami. This is the aftermath.

Part I: Betrayal

Yami comes home to suspicious moans and loud shouts. He follows them to the bedroom of the apartment, eyes narrowed and body tensed. He opens the door and stares. A sweaty, naked Bakura lies panting like an animal in heat under Malik, whose gold earrings glint in the dim light. Milk white fingers grip dark buttocks. Yami closes his eyes but cannot erase the image of the two joined below the waist.

"Shit," Bakura swears, and Malik groans in shame.

Opening his eyes, Yami sighs wearily. Looking past Malik, his eyes meet Bakura's. Bakura doesn't miss the hurt, disappointment, and anger in those eyes. Already, he feels bad. Already, he wants to fix this. Already, he knows that they are ruined forever. He feels helpless. "I'm sorry," he blurts out, like apologizing to a prized glass cup that he carelessly dropped.

A resigned man, Yami shakes his head. "Bastard," he says simply, feigning an indifference that he does not feel, and closes the door. Inside, he hears Bakura demand that Malik get off of him. He wipes his eyes and runs out of the apartment. The bedroom door flings open and Bakura sprints after him, shouting his name.

Yami keeps running.

Part II: Helplessness

Bakura sits on the couch of the apartment, staring at some American film playing on the television but not watching it. He wants to say ‘Screw Yami,’ but he can’t—not after seeing the disappointment and the strange sadness in those eyes.

He glances at the telephone receiver lying on the coffee table. It’s taunting him. Even though they both hate using phones, Yuugi and Ryou had forced them to install one in the apartment and demanded that they each carry a mobile phone at all times. Bakura snorts. The image of Yuugi and Ryou trying to order their other halves around is still as amusing as ever. Still, they had eventually caved in to their lights’ mandates. They had just been glad that their other halves had supported their relationship.

Bakura sighs and picks up the phone. He presses the ‘Talk’ button.

After listening to the dial tone for a few seconds, he hangs up.

With only his dark thoughts for companions, Yami sits on a swing in the park. Back and forth, back and forth he swings. A pendulum traveling nowhere, stuck in an endless cycle. An anachronism stranded in a time not his own.

He isn’t surprised, no. He had expected Bakura to do something like this ever since the first kiss. Bakura is an immensely selfish, vicious man, after all—but that has always been all right with Yami, until now. It has always been all right because Yami often trips on his own flaws, and Bakura understands and stays with him, even though they fight over every little thing, each desiring dominance over everything and protecting their pride at all costs. But lately, the fights have shrunk to mere quarrels, and they have been spending most of their time laughing together, lying together quietly, making love slowly—passionately, but gently.

This is why Yami feels so hollow at Bakura’s betrayal.

He can’t help but wonder what he did wrong. He supposes Malik is a valid choice—bronze skin, long blond hair, fierce purple eyes, an admirable natural defiance and a strong sense of kindness towards the deserving.

But it doesn’t hurt any less.

Yami bites his lip in frustration. He wishes that he cared less.

He really doesn’t understand what went wrong.

Remembering a night filled with hot kisses and the feeling of calloused, pale hands roaming his body possessively, he sighs with helplessness.

His mobile phone rests heavily in his right pocket.

Yami doesn’t come back that night. Bakura lies in their bed, wide awake, and wonders where he went wrong.

Yami wakes up on a park bench with a massive headache and his wallet gone. Groaning, he blocks out the angry sun with his hands and stumbles back to their—his—apartment. Too sick to care about hygiene, he flops onto the bed, turns his back to Bakura, and promptly falls asleep.

Next to him, Bakura lies wide awake, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. He scoots closer to Yami and extends an arm out to touch his alcohol-stained clothes—before thinking better of it and just settling for watching the pharaoh breathe—his firm chest moving rhythmically up and down, up and down.

Chapter III: Separation

They lie in bed for the rest of the day, Yami sleeping like a rock and Bakura dozing off and waking up at random intervals. Late in the afternoon, Yami finally wakes up. Bakura glances at him, then goes back to staring at the ceiling.

“Why are you here?” Yami asks bitterly. Bakura is drilling a hole into the ceiling with his eyes.

“This is my bed, too, Pharaoh.”

Yami sighs, the image of Bakura with Malik rising in his head again.

“I’m leaving,” he says hollowly, sitting up and drawing his legs out of the warm blankets.

“Don’t,” Bakura barks hoarsely. He doesn’t know if Yami means that he’s leaving for good. Laughing emptily, Yami leaves the room, slamming the door. Bakura leaps out of bed, slips on a jacket and the Millennium Ring, and storms out of the house. Yami is already gone—probably fused with Yuugi. Growling, Bakura leaps off of the terrace and heads toward the seediest part of Domino, seeking some release from the loud, conflicting emotions within him.

/Mou hitori no boku?(1) What’s wrong?/

Yuugi has been trying to reach him all day; one could sense his darker side’s agitation from miles away. His only response is a miserable sense of betrayal, sorrow, and anger.

/What happened? Is it Yami no Bakura? Are you hurt?/

An anguished howl emanates from Yami’s soul room, and Yuugi flinches at the intensity of emotion flooding his mind.

Anzu notices Yuugi’s flinch and asks him if he’s okay, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Realizing Yami probably doesn’t want to talk to anyone about whatever is wrong, Yuugi smiles and nods at his friend. But when Anzu turns away to continue her conversation with Jounouchi and Honda, Yuugi’s brow furrows with worry for his other half.

Yami doesn’t leave his soul room for three days, and Yuugi’s anxiety and worry increase exponentially. But Yami still won’t speak a word.

Deciding that if Yami wont’ tell him, he’ll just have to find out on his own.

Yuugi visits Ryou, and they drink tea, watch TV, and exchange small talk for a while before Ryou asks Yuugi why he looks so worried.

“Three days ago, Yami went to his soul room really angry, and he hasn’t come out since. He won’t tell me what’s wrong, and all I can feel is sadness from his end… I’m really worried about him, Ryou. Has your yami been acting any differently lately? I’m afraid it has something to do with him…”

Looking thoughtful, Ryou answers, “Now that you mention it, Yami completely blocked his end of the link a few days ago. Do you think they’re fighting?”

“Maybe, but it must be really bad for them to avoid each other like this…” Since they’d gotten together, the two had been inseparable. Their petty arguments lasted for six hours, tops.

“…mysterious murder of several major criminals. In the past few days, police have discovered the bodies of a number of convicts who were supposed to be in prison…”

“Well, that’s weird,” Yuugi says, and frowns at Ryou’s pale face as the news channel flashes gruesome stills of the victims’ bodies.

“It’s Yami,” he says. “That’s…” He looks sick, his mind suddenly conjuring up old images of what he’d been left with in the morning after his darker half had gone out and had his fun for the night. “That’s Yami’s work. I remember…”

Eyes wide, Yuugi asks, “But…but why would he…”

“He’s lashing out,” Ryou says grimly. “He must be really angry to have killed them….”

“I wonder what happened…” Yuugi trails off, eyes full of fear, anxiety, and concern.

A week passes by, and the emptiness of the small apartment begins to haunt Bakura. He eats his raw steaks alone, watches inane cartoons alone, and sleeps alone on the left side of the bed. Sometimes he begins to say something to a Yami who isn’t there and just barely stops himself.

Bakura has never felt alone before—he has never needed anyone enough—but he feels loneliness course through his blood every morning he wakes up to an empty bed and rumpled sheets on which Yami’s distinct scent has begun to fade.

The truth is plain and simple: He misses Yami deeply, and the heavy, constant weight in his heart is none other than guilt.

(1) Japanese for “Other Me”; how Yuugi refers to his other half.

Chapter IV: Confessions

Malik spends a horrible week coming to terms with his guilt and gathering up his courage. At last, he goes to Yami and Bakura’s apartment. Bakura answers, and Malik notices the desolate expression on his face before he fixes his mistake with a mask of disgruntlement.

“What do you want,” he grinds out.

“Is Yami around?”

Bakura’s guise slips for a moment. “He left,” he says faintly.

“When will he be back?”

Bakura looks away, staring a hole into the floor under Malik’s feet.

“I don’t know if he will,” he says, and Malik jumps as the other’s fist slams into the door. “What do you want with him, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Malik lies. “May I come in?”

“Whatever,” Bakura replies, and he goes back inside the apartment. Malik follows him into the kitchen, which has dirty dishes everywhere. Searching for something in the refrigerator, Bakura growls before slamming the door shut.

“Are you okay?” Malik asks, realizing the idiocy of his query only after the question materializes.

“No,” Bakura answers gruffly, downing the remnants of a can of beer left on the counter. He chokes for a moment and pounds his chest. “God, I miss him,” he coughs, and Malik’s sense of guilt increases tenfold. In trying to help a friend, he has unintentionally caused him more pain.

He has to find Yami.

He has to fix this.

Yuugi opens his back door to the sight of a nervous Malik Ishtar, fidgeting with one of his gold earrings.

“Malik? What are you doing here?”

Malik swallows and gives him a nod of acknowledgment. Tilting his head, Yuugi takes a tiny step backwards. They are both wary of one another, Battle City still fresh in their minds.

“Yuugi,” Malik greets, “Is the Pharaoh around?”

Yuugi’s hand covers the top of the Millennium Puzzle. “In here,” he replies, and he peers closely at Malik’s anxious expression. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“Yes. May I speak with him?”

“Tell me what’s happened,” Yuugi demands, eyes clouded with concern for his other half. “Please. He hasn’t come out for a week.”

Looking agitated, Malik shifts nervously on his feet. He knows Yuugi won’t relent. “If I tell you, will you call him out?”

“Yes,” Yuugi promises.

Malik sighs. “May I come in?”

“Oh!” Yuugi scuttles out of the doorway. “Of course, of course. Would you like some tea?”

Nose wrinkled, Malik refuses politely. “I’ve never gotten used to it,” he explains. When Yuugi invites him to sit on the couch, he complies, looking down at his feet.

Yuugi wastes no time: “So what is it?”

Malik sighs and looks at his hands. “I slept with Bakura,” he says bluntly.

Silence.

“What did you say?”

“I slept with Bakura.”

“Why?”

“They were having problems. We talked about it and then things just…escalated from there.”

Frowning, Yuugi says,” Problems? But Yami’s been happier than ever lately. I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you anything, Yuugi… But the gist of the problem is that Bakura felt too trapped by the way their relationship had evolved into a tender, emotional affair. He didn’t want to talk to the Pharaoh about it.”

“Well, that’s not very honest.”

“No,” Malik says sadly, “it’s not.”

“I don’t understand. If Yami Bakura didn’t talk to Yami, then how did Yami find out about…”

Malik laughs hollowly, looking away. “He saw us.”

“Oh,” Yuugi says, eyes wide. “I see.”

For a moment, the only thing piercing the silence is the sound of Malik’s foot tapping nervously on Yuugi’s living room carpet.

“So can I talk to the Pharaoh now?” he bursts out suddenly. Yuugi looks worried. “I’m going to apologize,” he explains, assuring the other. Yuugi nods, and in a span of a second, his body begins to glow and Yami appears in his place.

Malik swallows nervously.

Tearing up a raw steak with his teeth, Bakura slumps lower on the couch, grumpy and all-too-aware of the silence of the apartment. Suddenly the door swings open. Startled, Bakura jumps up to face the intruder—

And his face lights up. “Yami!”

But Yami isn’t as happy to see him: “Let’s talk, Thief,” he demands. Bakura frowns; Yami hasn’t called him that since they got together.

“Okay,” he agrees, feeling better just having Yami around again. “Sit,” he gestures to their couch.

“I’m fine,” Yami says coldly, and Bakura blinks.

“Suit yourself.” Yami glares at him and receives merely a raised eyebrow in response. “Well? Speak.”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Yami yells. Bakura’s eyebrow rises higher. “Was I wrong about this relationship? Did I think wrong assuming that you understood the concept of monogamy? I gave you a chance and stood by you even when my friends thought you weren’t trustworthy; even when Aibou(1) thought you weren’t trustworthy. I guess I did it for nothing. You ended up immoral and sadistic, just like they’d predicted. I don’t even know why I wasted time on you. You’re worthless, Thief. Worthless!”

Bakura doesn’t say anything but refuses to meet Yami’s angry eyes.

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you been sleeping around behind my back? Was that the first time?”

Bakura looks him right in the eye. He wants to salvage this. He wants to end this strange, uncomfortable distance between them. He wants things to go back to the way they were before this entire mess.

“Yes,” he says.

A fist comes flying at his face.

“Bullshit!” Yami shouts. “That’s bullshit, you damned liar! Weeks, huh? It’s been going on for weeks!”

Eyes wide, Bakura reaffirms, “It was the first time.”

Another punch, and Bakura grabs his nose, blood rushing out of his nostrils. His tongue laps absentmindedly at the blood on his lips.

“Liar!” Yami yells, enraged. “Malik came and apologized to me! Because he felt so guilty, you bastard. And you hadn’t even—”

“I—”

“You what, Thief? Were you ever planning on telling me? Were you just going to lead me on forever? How could you do this to me?”

“I—”

“Shut up! What, were you not satisfied with me? Did you need something new to play with? Because I sure as hell know that I didn’t do anything wrong. I gave you everything you wanted! I gave you sex, I got a job and earned money for us, I even bought you your filthy steaks. You should be groveling at my feet, not sleeping around behind my back!”

“Listen to you!” Bakura bursts out in disgust. “You arrogant bastard! You wouldn’t know what I need if it sent you to the Shadow Realm. Even Malik understood!”

“Don’t bring Malik into this!”

Bakura snorts. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“What is it, then?” Yami asks sullenly. Silence.

“You stifle me,” Bakura answers. At Yami’s horrified expression, he goes on to explain himself. “We’re so…sweet, Pharaoh,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “We hold hands and hug and kiss in public, and we spend all of our time together. We don’t even argue anymore. We might as well buy each other roses and fluffy pink bunnies. It’s disgusting.”

Yami doesn’t say anything. “I like it,” he says. His face is sad. “It makes me feel less alone.”

The guilt resting in Bakura’s stomach grows exponentially. “I…I did, too, for a little while. But we’ve just become so…domestic. I can’t stand it. I need…” he looks Yami in the eye, “something wilder.”

“Are we not going to work out, then?”

The vulnerability naked in Yami’s eyes makes Bakura’s heart ache.

“No!” he shouts suddenly. “Don’t leave again.” Startled by his vehemence, Yami raises his eyebrow, prompting him to continue. Bakura takes a deep breath; this is his chance to prove himself. “Don’t leave again,” he repeats. “Please.” Yami still doesn’t say anything. Bakura secretly curses the Pharaoh. “I’m lonelier without you, too,” he admits. “This past week was…bad. I…went back to my old habits. There was blood everywhere…” He chuckles a little. At Yami’s horrified look, he quickly corrects himself. “They were all criminals! Life-sentenced…” He smirks weakly. “See, you make me better, Pharaoh. You make me want to be better, for you. You give me a purpose.”

Yami finally speaks: “And what’s that?”

Bakura coughs awkwardly. “Making you happy,” he says quietly.

But Yami looks away. “If you wanted to make me happy, you wouldn’t have slept with Malik.”

“I…” Bakura slumps in shame. “No, you’re right.” After clearing his throat, he mumbles, “I apologize. It was…selfish of me.”

Yami smiles a little and takes a step forward, an understanding look in his eyes. “Yes,” he agrees. Standing before Bakura, he tilts his head up and presses their lips together firmly. “But I forgive you,” he adds softly. Relief flooding his body, Bakura lets out a sigh he wasn’t aware that he’d been holding.

“Thank you.”

“I won’t forget, though,” Yami warns. Bakura can still hear the hurt in his voice, see the wariness in his eyes, sense the nervousness his body exudes. Looking into his lover’s eyes, he tries to convey his sincerity—something in which he doesn’t have much experience.

“It won’t happen again.” He hates the way he sounds like a chastised child, but he wants—needs—Yami to understand that the thrill of sleeping with Malik was not worth being away from Yami.

Yami smiles a little wider this time. “I hope not, Bakura.”

Warmth fills Bakura at the open expression on Yami’s face. Shoving him against the nearest wall, Bakura kisses him passionately, hands everywhere, re-familiarizing them with a body that they have greatly missed in the past week. Yami melts against him and pulls Bakura closer and closer, until their arousals are pressing urgently together. Yami moans into Bakura’s mouth, tongue fiercely battling the other’s.

Bakura suddenly pulls away, placing a gentle kiss on Yami’s forehead.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, and hopes that Yami knows that he is telling the truth.

“I know,” Yami whispers back, holding his lover tightly and closing his eyes. “I know, Bakura.”

(1) Aibou: Japanese for “partner”; what Yami calls Yuugi

Chapter V: Resolution

“God, Malik, you take as long as a woman to get ready,” Bakura complains, scrounging the Ishtars’ refrigerator for something raw. The light in his eyes is different now, its mischievous defiance dancing along with a quiet satisfaction.

“I can’t find my other earring!”

Amused, Bakura gives up on his search, grabs a can of soda, and goes to Malik’s small room.

Running around frantically, searching everywhere, Malik hollers at him to help find his jewelry. Bakura shakes his head and holds up a gold earring lying a few feet away from him on the ground. Murmuring a word of thanks, Malik continues getting ready while Bakura lounges on his bed.

“So what did you and the Pharaoh argue about today?”

“He wants me to go to the zoo with him and his friends. Ugh. You’d think he’d be satisfied with them and not want me around ruining his fun,” Bakura grumbles.

Smearing the last bit of kohl under his eyes, Malik comments, “Maybe he feels out of place without you there.”

“Maybe,” Bakura echoes, annoyance still apparent in his voice.

“You should join them.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

Shrugging, Malik finally departs from his mirror; Bakura follows him to the kitchen.

“You owe him,” Malik says bluntly.

“I don’t owe him anything,” Bakura protests. Malik snorts.

“Would you have forgiven the Pharaoh for sleeping around?”

Silence. Confusion clouds Bakura’s face, his russet eyes dark. He laughs suddenly. Self-loathing—even rarer than kindness for Bakura—fills his voice.

“No,” he admits, “I wouldn’t have.”

Malik smiles. “Go,” he urges. “Make your honeypie happy.”

Growling, Bakura tosses the nearest thing on the counter—a moldy orange—at his friend. “For that, you’re coming along.”

Tanned face illuminated by an impish grin, Malik retorts, “Fine by me. I like them.”

“Asshole,” Bakura mutters.

Rolling his eyes at the stubborn former thief king, Malik stops, crosses his arms, and stamps his feet. “Bakura,” he whines, glaring at the offending man, who is dragging his feet, three yards away. “We’re never going to get there at this rate.”

“That’s the point,” he mutters under his breath.

“Don’t you want to see the Pharaoh?”

“No,” Bakura shoots back resentfully, but his quickening footsteps belie his protest.

When they reach the zoo entrance, Malik exclaims, “Over there!” and points out Yuugi and his friends. Bakura has never understood how Malik could like the annoying brats, although he supposes that living underground for ten years could mess with anyone’s state of mind.

As they near the happy-go-lucky group, Bakura picks out his lover instantly, a warmth filling his chest and erasing any annoyance from the early-morning quarrel.

“I brought Malik,” he says to no one in particular as soon as they’re within earshot.

“Bakura!” Yami exclaims in surprise, obviously both happy and triumphant. The group ignores Bakura and greets Malik politely (they, like Yuugi, are also wary but accepting of their former enemy), to which he murmurs a pleased, “Hi, everyone.”

Yami moves to stand with Bakura and reaches for his hand—before suddenly pulling it back to his side. A sense of loss fills Bakura, and Yami mutters a resentful “Sorry.” Bakura realizes that Yami is trying to be sensitive to his complaints about the relationship, and the sense of loss is replaced by a warm, fluttery feeling in his stomach. Yami’s sensitivity to his comfort never ceases to surprise him.

As the afternoon proceeds, Bakura mostly just stands next to Yami, who makes occasional comments to him and laughs sporadically at something the group says. Yami has lost the exuberance he wore earlier, and Bakura catches him staring anxiously at him several times. Besides the strange aloofness, Yami is also walking strangely—with his arms crossed tightly against his chest.

Again, that hated feeling of guilt sweeps through Bakura. When Yami is captured by the lion exhibit, he leans close to the bars and reaches a hand up to absentmindedly push his bangs back.

Bakura grabs it before Yami shoves it back under his arm.

Yami looks to him, alarmed, and Bakura stubbornly turns his head the other way, pretending to be interested in the sign describing the exhibit.

“Bakura, I thought…” Yami’s voice sounds strangely wobbly.

Bakura still refuses to look at him. More than a little embarrassed by his change in behavior, he merely squeezes Yami’s hand assuringly and follows the group to the next exhibit, dragging a confused—but clearly happier—ex-pharaoh with him. Feeling much more at ease now that Yami’s familiar grin back on his face, Bakura smiles a little to himself, the palest pink highlighting his cheeks.

He can handle the embarrassment. Like he cares what those brats think of him, anyway.

As long as Yami keeps smiling at him like that—

He can handle anything.

END