FicWad

How long have I been staring down at my ice cream? I'm not sure... but it's been long enough for it to melt into a cloudy soup. I idly poke at it with a spoon.

I should just be enjoying myself at the moment, but I can't help but let my mind drift ahead once again to the point when I will have to tell Mariku exactly why I am here. Well, maybe not exactly why... No. No, I have to tell him.

"Bakura-kun, what's wrong?"

I suppose he must have noticed my change in mood from the delight I'd had upon realizing he still remembered my favorite flavor of ice cream to my current silent brooding over the inevitable, impending future. "Nothing's wrong." He regards me with a look, and I sigh. "Why is it that you can see through me so easily?"

"If I could see through you like you think I do, I wouldn't have needed to get that promise from you earlier."

Isn't he the one who said not to worry about that now? Yet, he surprisingly doesn't seem bitter, considering the way he worded that statement. "But you could tell that something was on my mind," I say pointedly.

He smiles. "Is that really supposed to be so hard to see? You've seemed to have something on your mind all day." His eyes shift downward to what used to be chocolate marshmallow swirl. "Besides, you haven't even touched your ice cream. I'd consider that at least something of an indication that your thoughts are preoccupied."

I poke the cloudy mess again.

"You know that's not what I meant."

Sighing, I put the spoon down. "I know..."

"Bakura-kun..." I look up, but he is looking down, away from me. "If this is causing you so much anxiety, then just... forget about the promise." He finally raises his gaze; there's a smile on his lips, but it isn't in his eyes. He's forcing it. "I shouldn't have asked it of you in the first place. It's not something that I want to force out of you. Whenever you feel ready to tell me whatever it is that you've been hiding, that's when I want to hear it, not a moment sooner. I'm sorry for making you feel so uncomfortable about this-and don't try to tell me that I didn't, because it's rather obvious from how you've been acting."

I stare at him blankly-for how long, I'm not certain.

Forget about the promise?

I should be happy about this. Really, I should be thrilled.

But then... why do I feel like crying?

Maybe it's because I'm scared that I won't tell him unless I have to, unless he draws it from me himself. Maybe it's because I feel like my emotions have been toyed with, even though I know that Mariku would never intentionally have done that.

Maybe it's because I'm afraid of running in circles around these feelings I have for him for the rest of my life, never to do anything about it, never to know how he feels.

...I don't want to be afraid anymore.

"Mariku..." I start, but before another syllable can make its way from my throat, I freeze as an unfamiliar hand drops down and smacks the table, shaking it rather violently.

Two men-probably just slightly older than Mariku and myself-are looming over us, and I can't help but feel extremely nervous from the way they are leering at me. "Hey baby, we haven't seen you around here before. How about you ditch this guy and come with us?"

Words cannot express how very much I would appreciate it if a large falling object... perhaps a meteor... would crush me right now. Or these two jerks. Whichever would be fine. Maybe if I pretend they don't exist, they will go away.

However, it seems this doesn't work, as the second of the two men leans much too close and snarls. "You'd better not ignore us, or we won't go easy on you."

Why does this have to happen now? I was ready to tell Mariku, I was finally ready... but then this has to happen. I'm starting to think that someone Up There doesn't like me very much.

"Leave him alone."

The two men raise their eyebrows, in what I assume to be shock from finding out that I am actually a guy and not a girl, and they turn their attention from me to Mariku. "What did you say?"

"I said, leave him alone."

Oh my...

I haven't seen Mariku this angry in, well... a very, very long time.

Apparently the jerks don't notice-or simply ignore-the dangerous flash in his eyes and the intensity in his voice, and they smirk. "What are you going to do if we don't feel like it?"

"Ana raieh ela..." (1) His hand deftly swings out in a blur and he clutches the collar of the one who more or less threatened me. "What do you think I am going to do?" he demands in a low voice.

The other man takes a step toward Mariku. "I think you're going to get a beating if you don't let go of him!"

Mariku's eyes narrow; he shoves the first one away and rises from his seat.

During all of this, I can only manage to sit here dumbly, watching my limited world crumble around me-watching as the other people in the ice cream parlor excuse themselves quietly, watching in horrified silence as Mariku fights furiously against the pair of jerks.

Why is this happening?

Why can't I do anything?

Why am I so useless?

Suddenly, the manager comes out from the rear area of the building. "I told you boys not to come back here again! Beat it before I call the police!"

One of the men curses under his breath and yells, "Hurry up, let's get out of here!" to his partner, whom Mariku currently has in a stranglehold.

But then-there's a flash of glinting metal.

Then red.

It's at that moment that I feel my blood stop cold in my veins. I'm not sure if I scream-I don't know much of what is going on anymore-all I know is that, in a instant, I am kneeling by Mariku's side, trying to help stifle the small stream of blood flowing from his arm.

"Sharmute..." (2) he mutters, glaring at the retreating figures, hissing slightly at my touch. "It figures that their type would carry a switchblade." He looks down at the gash on his arm. "I'm lucky, though. He was only trying to get me to let go. If he'd been trying to seriously hurt me, it would have been much deeper."

I feel a stinging sensation on my cheeks. Tears? Am I crying? Yes... I'm crying. I'm crying because I was scared for Mariku, because I'm glad he wasn't hurt badly... and, selfishly, because I couldn't tell him what I'd wanted to say.

"Bakura-kun..." Mariku turns his attention to me, concerned. "It's not that bad, see? Everything's okay..." Despite his wound, he pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. Part of me thinks that this is just because he is not sure how to deal with me in my emotional state, while another part of me takes guilty pleasure in the warmth of his embrace.

It's silly... for the past five years, I'd thought of Mariku as the Dulcinea to my dream-deluded Don Quixote-but it seems that he makes more the knight-errant than I. (3)

"You... you need to get that cleaned..." words finally find their way from my throat. "I have First Aid supplies, but they're back at the apartment..."

He doesn't say anything, but merely nods in assent. We soon exit the ice cream parlor, leaving behind the conversation I'd hoped to have and my cloudy mess.

But then again, isn't this entire situation one big, cloudy mess?




Notes:

(1) Arabic for "I am going to..."

(2) Arabic, most easily translated as "bastard."

(3) Yet another Don Quixote reference. Refer to note 3 of chapter one.