"You need to understand that you don't have bad mental health - you have mental illness."
Malik didn't teach Bakura how to love himself, but he was the bridge that helped him get there.
[ Credit for cover: samael_dire on Instagram ]
[ MLM, Thiefship...
Hey, guys! Here's chapter four a little early! This is because I was late posting chapter three, and because I finished my first semester of college. I just have exams to get through, and then I'm off! Anyway, hope you enjoy this. Malik and Bakura finally meet in this chapter, so the last third of it is basically just smut. Also, just as a side note, how many people reading this are LGBT? Just wondering. Anyway, enjoy!
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Malik took a slow breath as he closed his apartment door behind him. The lock automatically clicked into place. This was fine. He was fine. This was okay. He could do this. He hadn't left the apartment in the three days since he had arrived in Domino, since he had seen Atem, even to eat, but this was fine. He was fine. This was okay. He just needed to get some groceries so he wasn't completely dependent on one room service order every day.
He had pulled on his baggiest jacket. It was comfortable and easy to feel like he was hidden away in as he waited for the elevator - almost like he was still curled up under his blankets, just staring at the wall. He had blacked out a lot. A few things were broken, but he could pay for them. He had asked to have his room cleaned while he was out anyway, so it wasn't like he was at risk of hurting himself on the shards. It was all in the bathroom anyway.
The receptionist that had checked him in gave him a wave as he left the apartment complex, and he returned it with a smile. This was fine. The sun outside blinded him a little when he stood under it. That's what three days of sitting in an entirely curtained hotel room does, even with every light at full blast. But he was fine. He made his way down the path.
He hadn't worn anything flashy like he normally would. His jeans practically burned his legs - he fucking hated wearing them. And his sneakers were a discounted trash heap, but nothing drew attention to him. Nothing but his hair. He kept his head down as he walked. This was okay. Most people would just assume that he had dyed it - it wasn't that uncommon of a thing in Japan. He stared down at the path. Plus this was a very tourist-y area of Domino.
He risked a glance up. No one was looking at him. Not a single person. He relaxed a little and took out his phone. He had to check where the nearest Ozeki store was - he had never bothered with groceries during Battle City. Expensive, elaborate menus in the best restaurants had been more his style. Not that it still wasn't, but going out every night simply wasn't practical.
He walked the five minutes to the store in silence, not quite thinking, not quite present. It was kind of nice. He grabbed a basket once he got inside. He didn't need too much - just enough to make a stir fry, and maybe some rice and cereal too. And soy milk. He needed some soy milk. He wandered through the meat aisle into the cereal shelves, right across from the frozen sweets. He could do this.
"Malik?"
Malik knew who it was before he turned. Ryou Bakura was the only Japanese native he had met in Battle City who had pronounced his name right. Still, his mouth went dry when he actually saw him. "Uh-"
