Dark Roses

Disclaimer - Nope, still don't own them. But one can always dream, yes?

Author's Notes - here's another chapter for you . . . and a little bit of action for our smaller blonde. Not much, mind you . . . but enough, I think, considering the circumstances. Enjoy!

Chapter 11 – Eternal Seconds


Curled up on the leather sofa in the den the following Friday, lost in another book, Malik didn’t even hear the front door open and close, nor the sounds of the friends as they arrived from school.

He hadn’t been able to bring himself to face Bakura and Ryou after spying on them that night, so suddenly finding himself buried under a certain white-haired youth was a shock to his already overloaded system. He gasped, his book landing on the floor with a thud, lavender eyes wide and heart racing as Ryou backed off him, apologizing profusely.

“I’m so sorry, Malik . . . I thought you knew we were back,” he said, seeing the frozen, stunned way the blonde was sprawled. Malik shook his head slightly, blonde bangs brushing against his neck as a flush slowly crept into his cheeks, images of a very naked Ryou dancing before his eyes as he stared down at the couch.

“You just . . . surprised me, is all,” he murmured finally, forcing his voice past his constricted throat. “It’s okay, really.”

Yugi watched it all from the circle of Yami’s arms, amethyst eyes considering as he noted the careful way Malik avoided looking at Ryou . . . and Bakura. He hadn’t managed to come up with a reason for Malik’s break down of the other night yet, and the blonde had steadfastly refused to talk about it, but he was beginning to see a pattern. The way Malik avoided looking at either of the white-haired teenagers, the flush that deepened when they were in the room . . . suddenly, he was willing to bet Malik had witnessed something between the two of them that had made him uncomfortable and caused him to question the way he was.

His thoughts were interrupted as Yami spoke, his light baritone rumbling against Yugi’s shoulders and head from his chest.
“We’re having a party tonight, just to warn you,” the taller teen said. “In case you wanted to . . . avoid anyone. People at school have been asking about you, wondering where you’ve been. We thought perhaps it was time they knew you were safe.”

“They’ve . . . been asking about me?” Malik asked, wonder and fear evident in his voice. He could scarcely believe it . . . why would anyone at the school care what had happened to him? It wasn’t as if he’d made friends with any of them . . . far from it, in fact. “Why?”

Yami smiled slightly and shrugged, but it was Bakura that answered his question.

“You’re actions against Ushio put you in the limelight at the school, and with the events that brought you to us . . . well, everyone was a bit concerned that something bad had happened to you. They’ve actually been pestering us for weeks about it, but we didn’t think you were ready to hear that before now.”

“Anyway . . . we just wanted to warn you in case you wanted to avoid being seen. We’ll understand if you want to stay in your room. Actually, if you want you can just relocate to the second floor for the night . . . no one goes up there.” Malik considered it for a moment, lavender eyes dark with thought.

He’d done a lot of changing since coming to live with Yami and the group of friends that he now safely considered his own as well. Although he still shied on occasion from an unexpected touch, he’d gotten used to having people within his personal space, finally able to relax when someone sat near him, or gave him an unexpected embrace. It was a good feeling . . . but he knew he still had a long way to go. And staying in his room wouldn’t help him advance further toward healing. Lost in thought, he wasn’t aware of how everyone in the room was watching him, practically holding their breath as they waited for him to respond.

There had been a huge argument at lunch over whether or not it was a good idea . . . mainly, between Yami and Marik. The tall blonde had been adamant that Malik wasn’t ready yet for such a social activity, to which Yami had snapped that maybe if Marik spent a little more time in his presence, he’d be a better judge of how far Malik had come out of his shell. For a minute they had actually feared that Marik would take a swing at Yami . . . his eyes had practically narrowed to slits, before he’d carefully told Yami to mind his own business and had stalked away.

It was a strange breech in the otherwise stable group, and they were all a little concerned over it. Marik had been acting strangely ever since Malik had moved in . . . he was often moody, and spent more time alone in his room then he had since they’d first met him. Was it something about Malik . . . or was there something going on in his head that had him turning into a hermit?

“I think . . . I’d like a good party,” Malik said finally, and they all let out a quiet sigh of relief. “I can’t stay cloistered in my room for the rest of my life.” He looked up at Bakura with a smirk, the first eye contact he’d made with the other teenager in days. “As long as you keep an eye on how much I drink. I’d rather not end up puking again.” Bakura smirked and nodded at the reminder of what had happened the last time, and Malik shifted uneasily before looking away again.

Bakura frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing as he sensed Malik withdrawing from him again. Something needed to be done about this . . . first off, Yugi needed to spend some time with Yami, and Malik had been reluctant to allow Ryou back into his space since Wednesday, for some strange reason. He remembered his strange feeling of being watched as he loved Ryou, and the figurative light bulb came on in his head.

Glancing at Yami and Yugi, he gestured silently for them to leave him and Ryou alone with the blonde. After a moment of concerned eye contact between magenta and crimson, Yami nodded, clapping a hand over Yugi’s mouth the still any protests that might be forthcoming before dragging his diminutive love from the room.

He caught a confused glance from his own lover, and held a finger to his lips to silence the questions dancing in those chocolate orbs before settling on the couch next to Malik, carefully outside of the blonde’s personal space, but close enough to let him know he was there.

“You know, Malik,” he murmured after a moment. “I don’t mind that you saw us. We like to be watched sometimes.” He smiled as the blonde jerked as if he’d been shot. So his idea had proven correct . . . Malik had walked in on them in the den. Ryou’s quiet gasp alerted him to his lover’s surprise, and he shook his head quickly to quell any more outburst’s before the blonde could respond.

“I . . . I didn’t mean to watch,” Malik said quietly after an uncomfortable silence. “I had just planned on watching some TV to help me sleep . . . I didn’t know you were there.” Lavender eyes met magenta, shame and worry swimming in their depths. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“How much did you see?” Ryou asked. It hardly seemed possible, but Malik’s face got even redder beneath the light bronze skin.

“All of it,” he responded, shame forcing him to drop his eyes. He didn’t know how Bakura had found out, but now he was absolutely positive the recriminations would begin, and he would simply die. He wished the ground would just open up and swallow him whole.
He started slightly as Bakura shifted closer, leaning over to tip his head upright with the gentle press of fingers against his chin. He stared into those magenta eyes in shock, frozen at the flame burning deep within them. Why was Bakura looking at him like that? He didn’t look angry . . . he looked . . . aroused?

“You’ll have to join in next time,” the thief murmured, before leaning forward to claim his lips gently in a kiss. Lavender eyes widened before they slid closed, the feel of those petal soft lips against his just about heavenly. It was gentle, which was surprising considering the source, but there was a quiet passion behind it that surprised him. He hadn’t thought Bakura was interested in him in THAT way.

Surprisingly, he didn’t feel remotely threatened by that, as he would have three weeks previous. Not only had he come to like and respect the small group that had admitted him so suddenly into their ranks, but he trusted them as well, which was far more important in his book.

Hesitantly at first, then with increasing sureness, he returned the kiss, his tongue moving against Bakura’s gently, delving into the white-haired teenager’s mouth to sample him before retreating, only to do it again just as tentatively.

Bakura had all he could do not to crush that bronzed body to his and ravish the poor Egyptian. If Malik had any idea what he was doing to him, he didn’t show it, remaining in his position on the couch with his body propped up slightly on his elbows. How anyone could be such a great kisser, and yet be completely innocent of the effects on their partner was beyond him, but he kept a rather firm grip on his self-control, not wanting to scare Malik out of this first tentative passionate embrace.

He allowed the blonde to dominate the kiss, only returning the gestures that were offered him, but he couldn’t help the low, needy moan that was torn from his throat as he felt teeth nibble lightly at his bottom lip. He was going to lose it if this continued much longer, and then he was pretty sure Ryou and Yugi would be after him with a vengeance for scaring Malik . . . not to even begin to mention what Marik would likely do to him with how protective he seemed of his look-alike.

So he broke off with a gasp, magenta eyes practically glowing as he met the lavender gaze from barely an inch away.

“Wow,” he murmured. “You have definitely got to join in next time, Malik.” He was surprised when the blonde smiled, a sultry turn of lips that did nothing to calm his raging blood at that point.

“Is that an invitation?” he said quietly, one eyebrow rising cockily. Now there was a flash of the Malik that had caught their attention.
Ryou watched the entire exchange with an air of complete astonishment. The revelation that Malik had watched him and Bakura make love, on top of what was currently going on between his love and the wounded soul they had set out to heal, simply left him without words. The change in Malik from the hurt, carefully cool teenager they had first met, to this quirky, completely confident individual that could trade sexual barbs with Bakura was too vast for words to encompass, but he was very glad to see it. And it was a rather new development from the quieter, more reflective side they had seen up to this point.

He sidled up beside the two, squeaking slightly when Bakura stood and pulled him into a very heated kiss.

“Bedroom . . . now . . .” his lover growled, and he chuckled slightly before looking down at Malik.

“Not often he gets riled up like this from a simple kiss, Malik . . . I’m half tempted to make him wait so I can see what you did to him for myself,” he said teasingly, wanting to see if this new Malik was going to stick around. Chocolate eyes went wide as Malik reached up to tug him down, a playful smirk crossing those aquiline features for a moment before Ryou found himself engaged in the same embrace as Bakura had before.

When they finally broke apart, Bakura was hard pressed to catch his small counterpart, who practically pounced on him in an effort to keep from doing so to Malik instead.

“Definitely to the bedroom,” Ryou muttered. One snowy brow rose questioningly before the taller youth found him self being practically dragged out of the room.

“Later, Malik!” he called over his shoulder, just before his diminutive love yanked him out of the room.

Malik chuckled slightly, lying back on the couch with a satisfied sigh, crossing his hands under his head. He felt . . . surprisingly good, considering what had just happened. He was relieved that Bakura and Ryou weren’t upset with him for seeing them, and more than a little amazed at himself for his sudden spurt of forwardness. But he’d realized long ago that the entire group was very affectionate with each other physically, and he was tired of being left out of it. He hadn’t been sure he could do it . . . but that had been proven to him. He wasn’t afraid of them anymore.

With a sigh, he arose from the couch and headed for his room, intent on getting his stuff together for the party that night. He found he was actually looking forward to it.


*-------*-------*-------*-------*

Standing before the floor length mirror in his room, Malik was hard pressed to determine which he was more nervous about . . . the pants that Yami had loaned him or the shirt he was wearing.

He looked good . . . of that he had no doubt, considering that Yami had excused himself nearly as soon as he’d stepped in to check on him, looking rather flustered. He actually found he enjoyed that kind of attention, especially from people he trusted so much. Once upon a time, such a thing would have made him highly uncomfortable, if not downright afraid. No longer though, for which he was highly thankful.

The white leather pants hugged his slim hips, dipping low enough that they showed quite a bit more flesh than was usual for him. They were snug, but not uncomfortably so, and they showed off his legs and contrasted rather nicely with his bronzed skin. He looked like a walking sex object, and when he moved they tightened ever further across his ass . . . which was why he wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.

The shirt, on the other hand, was loose and flowing . . . and mesh. That worried him . . . his scars were in plain sight for anyone who cared to look. He really didn’t want to be answering uncomfortable questions about them all night, but the black midriff shirt went extraordinarily well with the pants, better than anything else out of his wardrobe. He looked in the mirror again, considering, before pulling the shirt back over his head and adding a white silk tank top underneath it. That was much better. A little bit more concealing, without ruining the effect of the outfit. Perfect, in his opinion.

Gold armbands, and a golden ankh for an earring, with his eyes lined slightly with kohl pencil . . . he was ready. Or as ready as he was ever going to be. Suddenly he was nervous . . . could he handle so many people without closing back in on himself? This would be his first major gathering since the others had pried him out of his shell . . .

Sighing, he strode to his bed, sinking onto it to pull on the black boots he usually wore, shaking his head slightly. He would never heal if he didn’t at least try, and he wanted to heal. He wanted it for himself, but also for these new friends who cared so much about him without knowing hardly anything at all about him. He wanted to be able to be close to them, to participate in the things they did with each other . . . to show them how much he’d come to care in return. He couldn’t do that if he didn’t take this step.

Lacing the boots with a sharp snap of his wrists, he tied them off quickly and strode for the door. Opening it, he suddenly froze . . . finding himself unexpectedly staring at Marik, who had been gliding down the hall before his abrupt appearance.

He couldn’t help staring . . . Marik looked good! More than good, in fact, but Malik was at a loss for the word. Baggy black jeans that still managed to cling in all the right places, and a black muscle shirt that clung to his upper torso like a second skin. And a collar . . . a huge, black leather collar with studs that made him look completely badass, and highly desirable.

Malik could feel the flush starting over his face, his heartbeat picking up rapidly as he tried to tear his eyes away and simply couldn’t. He finally managed to get his eyes up to meet Marik’s . . . and felt as if he’d been burned.

Those violet eyes were very dark, intense . . . and hungry. And if he hadn’t known better, he would have said that he was on the menu. But that wasn’t possible . . . was it?

Marik, for his part, was just as caught as Malik in looking his fill. After the numerous sleepless nights he’d spent thinking about the younger Egyptian, suddenly seeing him . . . and seeing him dressed the way he was . . . was like a horse kick to his stomach, and he struggled to breath around the heart that had risen to his throat. What he wouldn’t have given at that moment to simply reach out and pull that lithe, white leather and black mesh clad body against his.

One thing seeing Malik did, however, was make him realize that maybe Yami had been right that afternoon. Maybe he was ready for this step . . . he was certainly dressed for it! And he looked better – more comfortable, a little more relaxed then he had. It seemed he owed Yami an apology.

“Hey Malik,” he finally managed to say, proud of himself when his voice actually came out sounding normal. “You ready for this?” The sound of his voice seemed to break the younger blonde out of his shock, because he smiled slightly and nodded.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied. “I’m sick of staying cooped up in here. It’s time for me to ‘rejoin the world’, I guess you could say.” He stepped out of his door, closing it softly behind him before joining Marik in the hallway.

On a spur of the moment thought, Marik held his arm out for Malik to take. He thought for a moment that the shorter teen wouldn’t do it, and then he nearly jumped when one arm linked with his, Malik smiling up at him mischievously with laughing lavender eyes.

“Shall we?” he asked sweetly, and Marik couldn’t help but chuckle at his tone. Yami was right . . . Malik was changing, was getting better, and he had missed it because of his own fear of pushing the blonde too soon. Well, he was going to change that tonight. He would make sure of it.

Walking down the hallway side by side, they had no idea they were being watched through a small crack from Yami’s room.

“Those two look so good together Yami,” Yugi said, shifting so that he could look up at his lover who stood behind him also watching the two blondes. “But they’ve both got a lot to overcome. Do you think they can?” Closing the door softly, Yami tugged Yugi into him, happy to have his lover in his arms.

“I think,” he murmured in reply, “that the human heart can overcome any obstacle if the love within is strong enough. They just need time.” With a sigh, he buried his face in Yugi’s hair, cuddling the smaller youth closer to his heart, enjoying this time alone with the boy he considered the other half of his soul.


*-------*-------*-------*------*


“He’s doing well,” Bakura murmured to Yami, lounging against one wall as he watched Malik, Ryou, and Yugi all dance together in a tight group in the middle of the space they had cleared earlier for such things. “As long as no strangers get too close, he’s fine.”

Yami nodded, crimson eyes watching the three with a slight smile. Yugi and Ryou had Malik bracketed between them, keeping anyone but them from touching him as a precaution. It was a smart move, and just like the two of them to think of it before anything happened. And since Yugi and Ryou were both very well known as ‘hands off or die’ material, that automatically gave Malik the same protection.

“He’s come a long way in three weeks . . . especially around us.” His eyes slid sideways to Bakura, and he grinned suddenly. “Speaking of which, something sure had you and Ryou riled up this afternoon. I’ve never heard so much banging and screaming in my life out of the two of you.” Bakura smirked, and tilted his head toward the dance floor.

“I think we’ve met your match in kissing,” he replied. “Malik surprised the living shit out of me this afternoon . . . and caught Ryou off guard too.” One dark eyebrow arched before he turned his gaze in consideration toward the dancing blonde. “He’s hot, Yami . . . and if it weren’t for worrying that I’d scare the living hell out of him, I’d get permission from Ryou to bang him into the next century. I was seriously hot after that one kiss!”

Yami chuckled slightly, but he had to say he was honestly surprised. While Bakura was nigh onto insatiable when it came to sex, it usually took a hell of a lot more than a kiss to get him as worked up as he had sounded that afternoon. But that brought up another question he’d been meaning to ask the quasi-albino.

“That reminds me,” he murmured, leaning a bit closer. “Just what was it that you needed to talk to Malik about this afternoon?” Bakura grinned.

“Seems Malik walked in on me and Ryou the other night in the den,” he said. “We wanted to reassure him that it was okay . . . that we didn’t mind.”

“Ahh . . . so that’s why he seemed so uneasy around the two of you,” Yami said quietly, nodding his head slightly. “And this led to a kiss?”

“He looked too cute and flustered to leave alone!” Bakura protested. “And . . . whoa, what a kiss! Completely different person there, I tell you.” The music ended, and they turned to watch as their loves and Malik removed themselves from the dance floor in a laughing cluster, the crowd parting before them and closing behind them until they disappeared from sight for a moment. From the looks of things, they were heading to the bar to get a drink.

Malik, from what they had seen so far, was steering pretty much clear of any alcoholic drinks, sticking to the punch and soda that they had set out for those who were averse to getting drunk. Ryou and Yugi were doing pretty much the same, although whether that was for the blonde’s benefit or their own choice this evening was unknown.

In either case, they had all been keeping an eye on Malik, and so far nothing bad had happened. A few people had gotten a bit closer than he had been comfortable with, but other than that there had been fairly little flinching from accidental touches, and he hadn’t disappeared into a dark corner yet.

Thinking of dark corners, crimson eyes turned toward the one across the room . . . the one in which a second blonde sat, quietly getting drunk. That worried him . . . Marik didn’t usually indulge in too much alcohol due to his own past problems, and he wondered what had caused his friend to sink back into the habit of drowning his problems in liquor. He suspected it had something to do with Malik, and he resolved to talk to the blonde about it the next morning.

It was obvious to everyone that Marik had a thing for their new friend. The protectiveness, going out of his way with his limited funds to buy things for the blonde . . . it all pointed toward Marik having finally fallen in love. And while Yami was all for it, and was actually very happy to see it, it worried him as well. Both of them had a very bad past to get over, and the relationship was doomed before it even began if they couldn’t do that first.

Marik had a tendency to react with violence before thought in situations he was uncomfortable with, and Malik had a lot of issues still left to be taken care of that Marik would find hard to handle. He knew his friend was trying to avoid Malik in the hopes of keeping himself from pushing, but after having been alone for so long, they could all see the strain it was taking on him. He wanted Malik, wanted to be close to Malik, and it simply wasn’t possible yet. That had made him extremely moody and irritable over the last few weeks, and his sudden decision to isolate himself wasn’t helping matters.

His thoughts were broken off as a slim body pressed against him, and he looked down into glittering amethyst eyes lovingly.

“You’re so serious tonight, Yami,” Yugi said, rising up to place a brief kiss on his lips. “You need to loosen up. Malik is doing fine . . . more than fine, actually. Stop worrying about him, and come enjoy yourself.” He tugged his lover off the wall. “Come dance with me . . . please?” Yami hesitated, and that’s when Yugi struck with those dewy, pleading eyes that he simply couldn’t fight.

“Alright, love,” he sighed, shaking his head and smiling. One day, he would become immune to those damning eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryou coaxing Bakura onto the dance floor as well, and grinned. At least he wasn’t going to be alone in this.

Across the room, Malik leaned against the bar, sipping his soda and smiling. It had taken him nearly fifteen minutes to convince Yugi and Ryou he would be fine on his own for awhile. He couldn’t help it . . . he felt guilty for hogging their attention, and they had been stuck like glue to his side all evening. He had to try this on his own, without their comforting presence beside him. He couldn’t rely on them to be near him the rest of his life.

So far, he counted the night a success. There had been a few times when he’d wanted to bolt because someone got too close and didn’t take his hint to back off, but otherwise, he’d managed to interact like any normal member of society. If felt good . . . like he was regaining control of his life, a control that he really had never had to begin with.

He hadn’t seen Marik at all really since they arrived, and he found that was bothering him a little bit. What few times he had been graced with his look-alike’s presence he’d enjoyed, and he found the he desired to get to know him better. Turning back to the bar, he got a refill on his soda before moving outward to mingle, and to test his newfound courage at interacting with people on his own.

Talking and moving about the huge room, he didn’t feel the violet eyes that followed him everywhere, the very object of his former thoughts keeping tabs on him silently from one lone corner.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Marik thought to himself, taking another sip of his beer absently. ‘Absolutely fucking gorgeous. And he doesn’t even realize it.’ He knew he was drunk, but at the moment that didn’t bother him as much as it usually would have. He usually despised being drunk . . . it reminded him too much of his father, and his past. But tonight he needed it. It was all he could do to stay away from Malik and not push his boundaries . . . it was like a fire burning in his blood, the need to let his twin know how much he desired him . . . how much he loved him.

Pathetic, really, in his mind. After all his bitching about love, and how it was a useless fucking emotion, he’d fallen into it, and fallen hard. He still didn’t quite understand what it was about Malik that drew him so strongly, but he’d given up trying to figure it out. Now he could only sit back and wait . . . and hope that someday Malik would be able to return his feelings.

He stiffened as he spied a guy approaching the object of his attention, and he was on his feet and moving before it had even registered that there was going to be trouble.

In the middle of a conversation, Malik didn’t even realize they had company until he felt someone press tightly against his back, arms wrapping around him, effectively trapping him in their embrace. Whether or not that was their intention, he didn’t really care . . . he stiffened in panic and anger, lavender eyes shooting wide as he felt warm breath against his ear.

“How’s about you and me do a little one on one ambo, hot stuff,” the guy slurred, grinding his hips into the white leather clad ass teasingly. Malik growled, low in his throat, struggling to remain in control as memories threatened to pull him under.

“Get . . . the fuck . . . off of me,” he snarled, his voice low. He was tense and stiff, his muscles locking up, but he refused to let the fear control him, even as he remembered other arms trapping him, other voices cajoling his stiffness at their advances.

“What’s the matter, beautiful? Did the gang bang group ruin you for any one on one fun? I can show you a good time . . .” A rough hand groped at him through the leather, and he shuddered violently, the memories only growing stronger with the unwanted intimate touch. He fought to hold them off, tried not to let them drown him, but his heart was suddenly thundering in his ears, his breath coming in harsh gasps as a hard body was pressed tightly against his back, the wandering hand beginning to work itself under the waist of the leather.

“Let go,” he whispered, unable to gather the strength in his voice while fighting back the memories of his past.

“I want to hear you scream, gorgeous,” his molester growled, and suddenly the memories were simply too strong to fight anymore. How many times had he heard those very words before? He whimpered unconsciously, going limp in the guy’s grasp . . . and fell forward into pale, protective arms as he was suddenly released.

“Malik!” Bakura whispered, calling to him as lavender eyes rolled back, the bronzed body suddenly limp and unresponsive. The white-haired teenager cradled that unmoving body to him, magenta eyes going to the scene unfolding before him with worry.

Yami knelt on the floor beside Marik, who had the man responsible for Malik’s collapse pinned underneath his knee, a blade held to his throat. He was snarling, like a wounded animal, the violet eyes gleaming with a madness that they had not seen for a very long time. Few things frightened Bakura, but at that moment, that unfamiliar emotion was quite evident in the magenta gaze. One wrong move could send his blonde friend over the edge and end this party with blood on the floor, and he hoped Yami could back Marik down before it was too late.

Fingers tight on the bronze arm, leaving white mark’s around the indentations they were making in the flesh, Yami barely held Marik back from pressing the blade home and slitting the man’s throat.

“Marik . . . back off. This won’t help anything! Malik’s safe now . . . please, let the guy go . . . he’s not worth it!” He could see his friend struggling with the rage, trying to push past it, but it was a losing battle. The guy was going to die . . . he could see it in those narrowed violet eyes. Yami tried one last ploy, hoping to all the gods ever prayed to that it would work. “Marik . . . Malik needs you now. Please, let him go.”

That did it. With a last snarl, Marik shrugged Yami off and arose, the knife disappearing back to wherever it had been hidden, the violet eyes still dark with rage, but it was back under control.

“Get this fucking piece of shit out of my sight,” he snapped, before turning to Bakura, who was still holding the limp form of Malik in his arms gently, calling to the smaller blonde in an effort to revive him. Nothing seemed to be working.

“I can’t reach him,” Bakura murmured as Marik came up to him. “It’s like he’s completely gone.” He was surprised when Marik took the boy in his arms, swinging that limp body up to carry Malik cradled against his chest.

“I’ll take him to his room,” he said quietly. “Some calmer and more familiar surroundings might help.” With that, he strode off, the gathered teenagers fleeing from his path like debris before a tornado.

Staring after him, the gathered friends could only hope that Malik would be okay . . . and that one freak incident hadn’t undone all the progress their newest friend had made in regaining control of his life.


Author's Notes - And the award for for worst bitch author of the year? *shrugs* I couldn't help it, honest! Anyway, review and make me feel good . . . my life outside of my writing is still shit.