[text: So I heard you were in town. I don't really have much going on right now so if you ever wanted to meet up just let me know, ok?]
[Text: I, ah… Yes, actually. But, who told you? I was just at your old place and they said you moved?]
"Malik what are you-…" he stared as the blond locked the door securely shut and then brazenly walked into the rest of the apartment, seeing to the windows and the like.
"They are painted shut-… Malik what are you doing?" he went to grab the blond’s arm, but stopped himself. He merely let it hover above instead, not quite touching.
"What’s wrong? Has something happened?" dread and guilt were all mixing together in his belly making him feel sick. He was surprised his voice was able to sound to strong. He was trembling on the inside.
Malik hadn’t paid any mind to much of the things laying around – the beer cans, alcohol bottles, explicit magazines – quite prioritized with flicking his gaze to every possible window and examining their steadiness, quite literally almost tripping over dirty laundry in the process. What Ryou had said barely registered until the former tombkeeper finally verified for himself that yes, nothing could get in. Finally he turned.
And immediately took in the sight around him, standing in the middle of what looked like… The seventh circle of the after life.
No. Seriously… A kitchen? If it weren’t for the run-down looking appliances steadily buzzing in the odd atmospheric splurge of tense silence (mostly now looking to be used as surfaces to toss needless things onto), Malik would have seriously needed to spend a longer time to re-evaluate where exactly he’d just gone on in and walked into.
Quietly, lavender hues landed on a lonely blade embedded rather snuggly into the wall. Judging by its odd angle, it either looked to have been thrown in anger or infuriating boredom…
The Egyptian could only stare, unsure what to say – or even ask – now. The fuck had happened to Ryou…? Had his friend run out of money? Developed some sort of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder which largely evolved in ugly doses of depression after everything that had happened? Malik glanced at the other male, taking a hard, long look a the teen.
“…I, ah. I’m sorry.. I didn’t know you.. uh, well,” Delicate subjects usually needed a delicate approach, but somehow, the blond felt Ryou had always been the straight forward kind of guy.
“Look… I could have wired you some money. We can still arrange things, maybe even…” He motioned around himself, mostly at the heaps of alcohol bottles around them. “I don’t know, look into A.A.? Or… Are you currently talking to someone?”
Maybe it was best to keep what he’d seen to himself for now, school his emotions into neutrality despite his still pounding heart. Ryou didn’t need the added stress, at all.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! The hell happened here?!
Ryou’s stared, confused as to why the air suddenly felt thick with tension. He watched the blond as he turned full circle, taking in the apartment- oh.
He felt his cheeks colour slightly in embarrassment at the state of his current living area. He had only been living there, days at the most and had not yet managed to put his own homely feel to the place. But he doubted even that would salvage what the two demonic entities had already done to the place.
His brown eyes went wide and his mouth popped open suddenly at Malik’s gushing suggestions. It seemed like wrong assumption, after wrong assumption came pooling out of the blond’s mouth like a waterfall; not leaving any room for the host to object.
"Malik- Malik!" eventually he had to interrupt, "They aren’t mine," he motioned to the bottles and cans; (in particular a set that had been expertly piled in a pyramid shape), "I am fine on money, my father is still sending me a couple hundred a month and I work part time. This is all… my uh… roommates’ stuff,”
To talk about Bakura and Mariku as his roommates to Malik felt less like a cover up, or white lie, and much more like deception.
Perhaps if it were just Bakura he could justify it- but how could Ryou lie to openly about Mariku, to Malik?
As the teen spoke and attempted to rightly justify what Malik’s eyes had taken in, there was another short pause of silence, to which the former tombkeeper took another sparing look around. Going over it all a second time with a deductive mindset allowed his logical senses to quickly validate Ryou’s words as truth (Just from the way the teen still dressed and held himself, compared to the self destructive mess around them), and no cover up. Not that he’d ever doubted the male, but coming in with a muddled mind in frantic alarm over ‘demons from the past’ had definitely clouded Malik’s talent in judgment - and that in itself almost personally pissed the proud blond off. It wasn’t like him to be wrong and get the wrong idea in any situation.
"Oh." Was all Malik could utter, folding his arms and hoping the former host didn’t think him a raging idiot that’d spent too much time under the pounding desert sun. That, or somehow became a slop-minded surfer during that one trip along the ocean’s coast. (The water had been too fucking cold anyway, fuck that.) ”Roommates, yeah. Makes sense. Sorry. Must be tired from the really long journey and stuff.”
The host sighed, rubbing his forehead. He tried to find the right words to say. Was it his place to tell the blond about Bakura and Mariku’s return? Of course… Malik did have a right to know.
But besides that the blond was obviously distressed about something already. Was it possible he already…
The teen sighed and walked over to the sofa, throwing aside some things and making room, “Malik take a seat. I’m going to grab a drink, we have tea or coke, that’s… or beer,” he offered.
A silly pause.
"No beer, thanks." He'd watched Ryou politely clear a spot on the old battered sofa, and felt rude to decline the kind gesture of being allowed to sit where a suspicious sock, odd smelling sweater, and porno mag once made nice. Since when Malik actually started paying attention to performing proper human etiquette, he would forever ponder, imagining it was the multicultural experiences from his travels which incited it all from him. Ah yes, the never ending quest to 'repent' and 'better himself'. Or something in the like, even though he was no fool and knew exactly it was all only to quell this restless abandon within.
"Uh, water would be great, thanks." The seat was examined subtly under mindful lavender eyes for white blotches, before satisfied enough of the lack-there-of. Only then did Malik let himself sink into the old, creeky thing, deciding it actually felt nice to finally just sit and think.
"Yeah, long trip." The blond made sure to remind, only to throw his friend off from anything at the moment. The plan had been to tell Ryou immediately, proverbially puke all and any frustrations related to these recent, bizarre and fucked up events, but now... The chance of actually scaring the other teen instead made Malik reconsider. The guy had been through enough with the Spirit of the Ring after all...
"Nice trip, though. I saw a lot of... strange things and people. The ocean is such a vast thing, too. Hey, did you know they have UFO circles in the beach's sand by the coast here?"
