Chapter Text
Bakura woke up, again. Sleep had mostly evaded him. The alarm rang loudly, indicating it was time to get ready for school.
Nothing new. Nothing exciting. Another mundane day. At least it was Friday.
He got out of bed groggily, immediately getting angry at the clock’s loud tune. He punched the top of it, turning it off in a way that should’ve broken it, but somehow didn’t.
Bakura picked up his flip phone, checking for any missed calls or messages. Nothing. Suddenly, the screen went black. Bakura quickly pressed the keys on it, before angrily sighing in defeat; he forgot to charge his phone overnight again. “Guess I’ll have to go without a phone again today…”
The phone was set down on the table where it originally lay, now charging, and Bakura put on his school jacket, leaving it unbuttoned. He didn’t bother changing the base shirt from the one he slept in, but at least this one didn’t have a graphic on it; he was tired of being scolded for something he thought was pointless to even care about.
Bakura walked past his kitchen, not feeling even the slightest bit hungry.
His outdoor shoes were waiting for him, perfectly set down. He changed into them and walked out the door slowly. He hoped no one would try to fight him today; he was way too sleep-deprived to be able to retaliate.
— — — — —
Luckily, no one bothered him on his tired walk to school.
Bakura went to his shoe locker and changed into his school shoes. They were much more comfortable, and for once, he felt grateful.
Bakura felt a slap on his shoulder, not even caring to go on alert. He looked back to see his only friend, Marik, the culprit of the friendly gesture.
"Hey, Bakura, I- woah, seriously, the bags under your eyes are crazy. You look like you got punched in the face."
Bakura narrowed his eyes in irritation, "Just couldn't sleep."
Marik sighed dramatically, unsure how to act in a situation like this. "I actually brought lunch money today, maybe we can get some food from the cafeteria and go to the roof? I need you to lockpick the door again, though. Those annoying bastards..."
"Is this secretly just a ploy to avoid your fangirls? Heard they're gonna make an honest-to-god fanclub endorsed by the school."
"Of course," Marik's sigh was somehow deeper than the last, "I also thought you could use the change of pace. Maybe it'll help you sleep properly, for once."
Bakura snickered. "What a nice guy you are."
Marik pretended to be shot in the chest, and his tone of voice became something out of a highschool play. "The sarcasm! You're killing me, here." He put his hands behind his back, and put on a light smile, tone changing. "But seriously...let's hang out more. It's boring without you."
Marik’s unusual admission of genuinely caring about him sent a small shiver down Bakura's spine. Usually, Marik is way more cagey than this. Something must seriously be wrong with him if Marik of all people was worried about him.
"Yeah, yeah, alright. You're lucky I brought some hair clips." Bakura smiled genuinely for the first time in weeks.
— — — — —
Marik and Bakura sat on the roof, eating lunch. Bakura was eating sweet bread, and Marik was chowing down intensely on his small portion of spicy curry. Bakura would never admit it to anyone but Marik, but he actually hated anything spicy, so seeing his friend absolutely demolish his own food made him feel a bit nauseous.
“Seriously, how can you even stomach something like that? Gross.”
“Mpit’s myummy,” Marik replied, mouth completely full of his curry. He quickly swallowed it and continued, “You’ll never understand how amazing spicy curry is. All you eat is that bland, unseasoned shit.”
“I grew up in Britain for a lot of my childhood, and I’m also half British. I’m too Western European for this.” Bakura huffed jokingly.
“White people.”
Bakura took one of his last remaining hair clips out of his bag and put the middle part of his bangs back, as his attempts to eat were thwarted by his unruly hair in his face. He was a bit irked; he had broken two hair clips trying to unlock the roof door. Maybe he was getting too out of practice. He hadn’t cared to be as chaotic recently. “I need to fix this. I’m losing my “spark.” Bakura reflected.
“...Are you okay? Seriously.” Marik suddenly blurted out.
Bakura almost choked on his bread. He definitely didn’t expect that. “Bold of you to ask. I’m fine enough.”
Marik didn’t seem convinced. “We both know that’s a lie. You haven’t stolen anyone’s wallet in probably two weeks. You’ve been an unresponsive zombie until today.”
“Why are you asking me this now? Not like you cared until today.”
“I did. Everytime I came up to you, you wouldn’t even flinch. No one has even tried to fight you since the day you started acting weird.”
Bakura didn’t respond. He honestly couldn’t remember Marik ever coming up to him. Or anyone trying to fight him or beat him up. Looking back, he couldn’t actually remember anything happening the past few weeks. Why couldn’t he picture anything in his head? Not even his homework or lessons could come to mind.
“Did something happen with your dad again?”
“No,” Bakura paused under Marik’s scrutinizing stare, “at least, I don't think so. I can’t remember.”
“Where’s your phone? We can look through your call history.”
“Didn’t bring it. Forgot to charge it last night.”
“Seriously? Who forgets to charge their phone?”
“Me,” Bakura snapped, “and why does it matter anyway? I don’t see how being reminded that the bastard never calls will make my situation better.”
Marik went silent for a while. He finally replied, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Sorry.”
Both friends went silent again. It was awkward and lasted way too long, making them both uncomfortable. Bakura started feeling worse and worse, feeling guilty for snapping at his only friend for trying to help him feel better.
“Thanks for lunch. I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” he admitted, feeling a bit pathetic.
Marik smiled warmly. “Of course, I’ll always help you out, don’t forget it.”
Suddenly, Marik seemed to remember something. He turned around and started looking through his bag. After some searching, he pulled out what looked like a flier of some sorts. He handed it to Bakura, who started reading;
“The Domino City Museum would like to present:
The Ancient Egypt exhibit!
Rare, one-of-a-kind items never seen by the public are coming to Domino City! Sponsored by Ms. Ishizu Ishtar, head diplomat of Egypt, has graciously allowed us to present these. For a limited time, Saturday and Sunday (Sept. 22-23) only! Buy your tickets today!”
Bakura tilted his head. “What’s this?”
“My sister is the one hosting the Ancient Egypt exhibit at the museum tomorrow and Sunday… I haven't seen her in months, and it’s awkward.” Marik then mumbled “Also, stuff like this is a big deal in my family, and I really hate it…”
Blinking in surprise, Bakura replied, “I guess I can, as long as you’re paying.”
“My sister can get us in for free, if that matters.”
“Can we get lunch afterwards?”
“Sure, sure, we can, please come with me.”
Marik never seemed this desperate for Bakura’s help before.
“Okay, I’ll come and meet you there tomorrow morning.”
“Great! Around 9am.”
“Ugh, so early…” Bakura mumbled.
Marik laughed. “That’s the Bakura I know. Welcome back.”
— — — — —
Bakura made it back home safely.
He tossed his bag onto the kitchen floor in front of him. He took off his outdoor shoes and set them down orderly. He passed the kitchen, still feeling full from lunch.
When he made it to his room (which was also, unfortunately, the only living space in his tiny apartment), he plopped down on the floor next to the futon he never bothered to put away. He pulled his phone charger from the wall, bringing the phone closer to him. He opened it, and saw a missed text from Marik.
Marik (4:55PM): “Hey, thanks for being willing to come with me tomorrow. At least today was Friday AND we didn’t get cleaning duty. Imagine if we had to clean on a Friday again, ew.”
Bakura (5:03PM): “Yeah, np. I’m glad too.”
Setting the phone down, he grabbed the remote for his TV and turned it on. The TV itself was something Bakura picked up off the side of the road. It was incredibly small and could only project things in black and white. He despised it because it couldn’t play any of his game consoles, but he tried to be grateful that he had a TV at all. “Seriously, who is just now throwing out a black and white TV this late in the 90’s…old people, I guess.” Bakura had originally thought to himself.
He flipped through the very few channels the antenna could pick up. It was mostly old dramas or reruns of now-defunct game shows. Bakura sighed, turning it down to the lowest volume for background noise. He stood up and opened the sliding glass doors to his apartment’s balcony.
It smelled weird outside; one of his neighbors had been smoking, probably. He frowned, annoyed, but not fully deterred from staying outside. His balcony was bare, except for a single house plant. Bakura didn’t even know what kind of plant it was – a neighbor had given it to him as a welcome gift – but he had been good about keeping it alive. Even during these weeks he was seemingly disassociating, it was alive and well, and he was grateful.
Bakura sighed deeply, despite the cigarette smoke. He looked up at the sky. “Dad would’ve liked this sky,” Bakura thought to himself “so many stars.”
A thought crossed his mind, and Bakura’s face flushed. He desperately wanted to wish upon the stars again, like he and his father used to do. It was embarrassing to think about.
But, at this moment, Bakura felt truly alone. He looked up and saw a star, probably the biggest and brightest, as if waiting for him to make a wish.
He reluctantly closed his eyes, thinking of how he and his father would also put their hands in a prayer position. He tried to follow the steps as closely as he could remember.
Finally, when he felt ready, Bakura prayed, thinking of the brightest star he had just seen.
“Oh stars above, please grant my wish.”
He stopped, unsure of how to ask such a silly wish. Finally, he figured it out.
“Please make me feel complete again.”
Bakura slowly opened his eyes. Nothing seemed different. However, mentally, he felt slightly more free. A weight lifted off his shoulders.
He turned around to go back inside, feeling a bit silly for having such a vague wish.
Suddenly, something hit him in the back of his head.