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(Y/N) knew something was wrong. Nothing in particular set her off, but she just knew that something was amiss. She needed to see Marik as soon as possible. He would be home around this time, she thought. She had stopped to pick up a dish of his favourite koshari, as a nice gesture. She hoped it was good, and that it was the right kind that he liked.
Upon nearing his apartment, her dread worsened tenfold. She knocked, and then knocked again. Nothing. Maybe he wasn't home?
No; she was quite sure he would be home. After all, he was always at home on Saturday nights, reorganizing and setting up his duel deck for the thousandth time. Besides, the lights were on, visible through the thin crack between the door and the ground.
“Marik?” She called.
Nothing again. She was getting worried.
(Y/N) tried the door, and was surprised to find it unlocked. It felt wrong to enter someone’s house without permission, but her desire to see if Marik was okay took over her sense of etiquette.
She whispered a quiet apology before stepping inside, shutting and locking the door. It was dangerous to have the door unlocked at this time of night; what was he doing? She removed her shoes, setting them neatly aside before venturing into the familiar apartment she had visited many times before.
The kitchen was as it always was; small, well-used, and trusty. This time, it was empty. She put the koshari in the fridge. They could always heat it up later. Right now, locating Marik was the most important.
First, she checked the living room. He was nowhere to be seen, there. His room? She was only met with the sight of all of the various Egyptian archaeology newspaper clippings he had taped to his wall. He wasn’t on the balcony, either. There was only one other place (Y/N) could think of to check before she would signal a search party.
She slowly pushed open the creaking bathroom door, and was met with an unconscious Marik lying on the cold, blue tile flooring. She panicked, rushing to kneel beside him and scooping him into her arms.
Upon closer inspection, it seemed like he was just in a deep sleep. There were no injuries on him, and no other suspicious items anywhere in the room. He looked peaceful. Despite wanting to let him keep sleeping, she needed to know that he was alright.
Gently, she began to shake him, lightly patting his face and begging him to wake up in a desperate attempt to satisfy her burning concerns.
“Marik… please.” She sobbed.
She was on the verge of calling an ambulance when he stirred in her arms, his eyes opening just a bit. He looked up at her, and it looked like he was having trouble focusing on her.
“Marik!” She hugged him tight, but not too tight to hurt him in his already fragile state.
“(Y/N)?” He whispered.
“I’m here. What happened here…?”
He closed his eyes again and leaned into her hold.
“I don’t know… I don’t remember-” He cut himself off, realization forming in his expression. It seemed he remembered something.
He didn’t speak about it. He looked… ashamed, maybe even scared?
“I-I can’t…” He choked, tears welling up in his eyes.
“You can’t…?”
He couldn’t control the cries that erupted from his heart at that moment, clinging to (Y/N) like his life depended on it. He cried into her shoulder, soaking the fabric of her sweater. She had so many questions; what happened? Why is he so upset? Why won’t he tell her?
Despite the infinite amount of queries flooding her brain, she resisted asking anything while he was in such an unstable state. All she could do was hold him close and whisper words of care and encouragement.
His crying lasted for minutes, each one longer than the last. (Y/N) couldn’t bear to see Marik like this. She wanted to fix all of his problems immediately, if only she knew what they were.
“Please,” she said, tears of her own falling into his hair, “Please tell me what’s wrong.”
Marik’s breaths were shallow and trembling, a futile attempt to calm down.
“(Y/N)...” He sniffled.
There was a long stroke of silence between them, only filled by the soft hum of the air purifier, the dripping faucet, and Marik’s sobs.
His fingers dug into her clothing, the fabric balling up in his grasp. He hated that she had to see him like this. Surely, he looked so weak and pathetic in her eyes, and she would never talk to him again after this.
“I’m here.” She repeated, desperate for him to calm down.
“Please… don’t leave,” He whispered, “I need you.”
He didn’t care if he sounded or looked pathetic anymore. He just needed her. Her voice, her arms, her scent; they were all working in tandem to bring his anxiety down.
“I’m not going anywhere.” She spoke softly, emphasizing her point by holding him even tighter.
They stayed that way forever, Marik huddled in (Y/N)’s arms while she leaned against the cold tile wall. The tile underneath her was also starting to get through to her skin, and she wanted to get up and go somewhere warmer; but she wouldn’t disturb Marik from his position in her protective hold. She rested her cheek on the top of his head, admiring the softness and thickness of his hair.
He was finally at ease, for the most part. His cries were now small sniffles as she rubbed his back and carded her fingers through his hair.
“Let’s go somewhere cozier.” She gently coaxed him up.
He followed her, hand in hand, to the couch where she wrapped the two of them in a nearby blanket. He leaned his head on her shoulder, quiet and unresponsive. She sighed, appreciating the warmth and plushness of the cushions instead of the icy, cold planes of the bathroom floor.
She still wanted to know what happened; but she wouldn’t push it until he was ready.
“Are you hungry?” She asked.
He nodded, to which she sighed with relief. At least his appetite was healthy.
“I brought you some koshari.”
“You did…?” He looked up at her.
She nodded again, rubbing her hand up and down his arm.
“Do you want some?”
He nodded quietly, following her into the kitchen with the blanket still wrapped around him. If it were any other time, (Y/N) would have teased him for looking so adorable.
He stood near her and watched as she started reheating the now-cold koshari. She didn’t speak, leaving the silence open if he wanted to tell her anything; and it worked, once she had gotten his food in front of him at the table. She sat across from him with her own portion of the warm dish.
“You didn’t need to do all of this.” He said.
“But I wanted to.”
He was quiet again and took a bite of food.
“Did I ever tell you about my childhood?” He asked quietly.
“No.”
He sighed and set his fork down.
“I was born in a family of tomb-keepers. Our job was to protect the unnamed Pharaoh from thousands of years ago,” He started, “And I was the only son born from my father. I have an older brother, but he’s not of my parent’s blood.”
He removed the blanket from around his shoulders.
“There was a ritual… and I was the only one who had to do it. My father forbade Odion from taking my place, and so I had to…” He paused, feeling his heart rate start to pick up again.
He took a deep breath, determined to tell her the whole story.
“It gets gruesome. Do you want to hear the rest?” He looked at her.
“If it’s bothering you, I want to be able to share your troubles. I’m here for you.” (Y/N) reached across the table to hold his hand.
Marik took another deep breath, focusing on the feeling of her skin against his.
“They held me down… and carved the engravings of the tomb-keeper’s secrets into my back. It took hours… at least seven.” He shuddered, clenching his eyes shut.
“It made me hate my family. It hurt. It hurt so much.” He said as silent tears fell from his eyes again.
“I became someone else because of that day. I was someone dark and evil, and I couldn’t control it. I realized that after that dark part of me was gone, I…” He trailed off, “I had killed my own father all those years ago. I let my fear and my anger get the best of me.”
The tears turned into sobs again as he clenched fistfuls of his own hair.
“I was chasing after who I thought was the murderer of my father for so long… but it was me the whole time. Oh, (Y/N) – I’m a terrible person, I’ve done so many awful things; and it all started because of these damned scars.”
Slowly, Marik took his shirt off and showed her the scars on his back, intricate and detailed hieroglyphics inscribed onto his tan skin. (Y/N) felt her own tears welling up, trying to even begin to imagine the horrible pain he had gone through, and as only a child.
“Can I touch them?” She asked softly.
He nodded, having complete trust in her. Gently, she traced her fingers over the now fully-healed scars. He enjoyed the feeling of her hands on his back, and his scars seemed even less painful once she touched them.
“They’re healed now… but I can’t forget that day.” He added.
(Y/N) stood up beside him and hugged him. A warm hug, one that he had been craving without even realizing. He hugged her back, sighing as he melted into her once again.
“I have to live with this for the rest of my life… they’re never going to go away.” He whispered.
(Y/N) thought for a moment before speaking.
“Maybe that’s the case… but if you ask me, these scars are just a testament to your strength, a record of your story,” She said, running her hands over them again, “and you will have to live with this pain – but you don’t have to be alone, Marik. I’m here.”
He broke down once again, feeling touched by her words.
“Why do you care about me so much? I’m a sick person. I don’t get it… no one has been as kind to me as you have. What did I do to deserve it…?”
“Maybe it’s because you’re my best friend, or the fact that we’re kindred souls… I don’t know the reason myself, but there’s only one truth in my heart.” She said.
“Truth…?”
At that moment, (Y/N) wanted to tell him her honest feelings for him; she wanted to say that she loved him, but she was holding herself back. She couldn’t tell if that would make his tears better or worse. At the same time, as she looked into his eyes, she saw an unmistakable glimmer of hope and anticipation for what she was going to say.
If she told him, he would either tell her the same, which was highly improbable, or let her down; but in these snippets of vulnerability between them, all she wanted to do was say, ‘I love you’. Those three words held all of her feelings. Saying she cared about him wasn’t enough. She wanted, no, needed to say it.
“I love you.” She blurted out, biting the inside of her cheek as she stared, wide-eyed, into his and waited for his reaction.
Marik was silent as he soaked in her gaze and her voice. He had surely heard wrong.
“What…?”
“I-I love you.” (Y/N) repeated, suddenly a lot less sure of herself.
Marik understood that she didn’t mean love in a friendly or sibling way. It was the other way. He wanted to just fall apart in her embrace even more than he already had; he looked for any hint of deception or dishonesty in her, but found none. He couldn’t find his voice, either, leaving (Y/N) waiting for a response.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, “that was stupid.”
“No, no, it wasn’t.” He said hastily.
He paused, moving his hand to caress her face.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
(Y/N) sheepishly nodded, looking around at anything that wasn’t him. She almost couldn’t bear the silence, her heart heavy in her chest.
Marik gently coaxed her to look up at him. He knew he needed to give her a response; and he already knew what it was. So what was holding him back from saying it? He was silent for a moment longer, but the anxious and rather terrified glimmer in her eyes tore down any reasons he had for hesitating.
“I love you too.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, the air between them was different. Lighter, peaceful — and a deep understanding of feelings being exchanged. They stayed holding each other, silently admiring the other through familiar and deep stares. Marik’s eyes flickered between hers with a small smile. The first smile he had made all night. The once deafening silence was now a time to process new emotions and accept the fact that things would be different from now on.
“Well… what now?” (Y/N) whispered.
“It’s hard to say,” Marik replied, “but I know that my feelings for you are real, and I think yours are too.”
“They are.” She said quickly, wanting him to see her love for what it was.
Marik wrapped his arms tight around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
“I guess I didn’t need to hide my feelings so much after all.” he chuckles.
(Y/N) felt her face heat up as she hugged him back, leaning her head on the top of his.
“I’m worried that I told you at a bad time… I just wanted you to know how much I care about you.” she whispered.
“Don’t be worried about that — there’s never a bad time to tell me,” he said.
“If you say so.”
“I do say so.” He pulled back to look at her.
The longer they stared at each other, the quieter the room became; and the nearer they seemed to drift together. They both felt a new and frankly irresistible desire to feel the other’s lips on their own, and that subconscious longing was what brought them closer and closer. Marik couldn’t take it any longer; he needed to take this a step further.
“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, gulping down his nervousness.
(Y/N)’s heart jolted in her chest, but she nodded, trying to ignore the rapid pulse he had created with those four words. Slowly, Marik leaned in, glancing between her eyes and her mouth as if trying to make sure it was really okay.
His lips pressed gently against hers, and it was ever so tender and affectionate. It was quick and short, but held all the meaning in the world.
“That was my first kiss.” (Y/N) smiled sheepishly.
“Mine too.” Marik smiled back.
They held each other again, both unsure of what came next. (Y/N) knew that whatever happened, whatever got in their way, they would jump over those hurdles together. (Y/N) would support Marik just as he would for her. It was a mutual understanding of love and respect.
Weeks after the incident in Marik’s apartment, (Y/N) convinced him to finally seek help for his PTSD. She was there for him every step of the way, from booking appointments to actually accompanying him to his first session, even if it meant waiting an hour in the waiting room for him to be done.
Marik was slowly getting better. His night terrors were diminishing little by little, and the panic attacks were becoming more manageable. He didn’t let his struggles prevent him from being the best partner he could be for (Y/N); in fact, he refused to let them get in the way. Of course, he wasn’t perfect, but neither was (Y/N). The only thing that mattered was that they were perfect for each other, through their flaws and deep into their souls.
On a lazy Sunday afternoon, (Y/N) lay in his arms on the same couch she had comforted him on months ago. They weren’t doing anything in particular other than flipping through lame channels on the TV and reading magazines; but any time spent with each other was time well-spent.
“Marik,” (Y/N) looked up at him, “I love you.”
“I love you too, (Y/N),” He smiled as his hand gently rubbed her back, “Where did that come from?”
“I just wanted to remind you.”
Marik blushed a bit, a red hue that didn’t go unnoticed by his girlfriend.
“Thank you.”
He sat up, bringing her with him and holding her flush against his own body. He kissed her forehead before resting his cheek on the top of her head. They sat in silence, as was the norm for them. They found that they didn’t need to speak so much, that actions spoke volumes more than words. Their love for each other went beyond the boundaries of the universe, and they both knew it without saying so; but they chose to say it anyway. They would spend the rest of their lives laughing, crying, and enjoying the time spent with each other. When one of them fell, they would fall onto the other’s shoulder to be picked up again; and that’s what love is all about.