Of the Sun and Moon

What was I supposed to say? I enjoyed his company, that part was undeniable. I wanted to see him again, too. So I told him the truth. I have absolutely nothing to do today. There was just a small project I had to do at school, so I agreed to meet him at his ship sometime early in the day –right after I left school- so we could go do something. He’s not familiar with this place, anyway. It must be hard to find something entertaining to do.

Walking along towards the ship, I hear a splash. Perhaps someone dropped something? But as I get closer, I hear more water, not really a splash this time, but more like someone swimming around. And sure enough, a tan body with white hair can be seen scaling the ladder on Malik’s ship, clad only in black swimming trunks. My eyes are caught on his back, though. I can’t make out what it is, but there are marks… tattoos, perhaps?

He must’ve sensed me watching him, because out of nowhere he looks over his shoulder at me, then breaks out into a smile. One hand leaves the ladder and waves at me.

“Bakura! Come on, I’ll meet you on deck!” he calls out, resuming his climb at a somewhat faster pace.

~~~~~

I’m glad he came. I was beginning to wonder if he would. I wouldn’t have blamed him, though. I’m practically a stranger, from a strange land, and I’ll be leaving here tomorrow…

“So,” I ask as he finally makes it up the stairs, “what do you want to do today?” I snatch a towel off of a chair on deck and begin drying. He fumbles for a minute, then shrugs.

“Well… you seem pretty athletic,” he muses aloud. “How about a little game of tennis, first?”

“Tennis?! I haven’t played a good game of tennis since I left home!” I gush, completely thrilled that he enjoys the sport, too.

“Wonderful. I know just the place.” I somehow figured he would.

I rush off to get dressed, my confidence returning that this will be a day to remember.

~~~~~

I was pleasantly surprised at his eagerness. Now that we’re on the court, I can see that he’s good. Really good. He’s so slender; I hadn’t thought him very athletic. But then… I’m a little thinner than him, so I’m sure the surprise is mutual. One warm-up game, and nine hard-core games into it, we’re beginning to sweat and it’s hard for us to catch our breath.

“Prepare to be crushed!” he hollers from his side of the court. A grin in place, I bounce the ball a few times before replying.

“Hey, five of the games were mine! PLUS the first one! That’s set!”

“The first one didn’t count!” he ‘reminds’ me. “It was just warm-up!”

I just shake my head at him and bounce the ball one more time before serving it over the net. Normally it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but my arm is getting tired, and I’m almost positive I injured a muscle on that saving stroke that bought me the last game. Physical ailments aside, the ball makes it right where I wanted it to go and he hits it back with great ease.

From there we rally it across the net. I gain the upper hand, leading him three to two. But my arm is getting worse. I rotate it a bit, trying to work the pain away, or at least to the point that it’s numb.

“Are you alright?” he shouts over at me, concern in his voice.

“Yes, yes… I’m fine…” I shouldn’t lie like that… but it’s such a good game, the best I’ve played in forever, and I’m so close to winning. I bounce the ball, then throw it up and swing. The racket connects with the ball and sends it across the court to his side. He swings, returning it far to my right and making me run for it. My arm extends and I swing… and the pain shoots straight up into my shoulder, causing me to yell and fall to the ground.

“Bakura!” he calls, partially veiling the sound of his racket clattering on the ground. Then come the thudding of his shoes against the court, and then his voice in my ear. “Bakura…” he whispers, helping me upright a bit more. I sit here on the ground, holding my arm.

“Okay… not so ‘fine’,” I admit with a shy smile. “Did I win…?”

~~~~~

Now that’s a dedicated player. His arm could be all sorts of fucked up, and he’s worried about if he won or not.

“Yes,” I lie, knowing full well that the ball hit a foot over the boundary line from the impaired save. “You scored… Game and set…” His smile grows despite how he must be feeling, and I try to help him to his feet.

“I think it’s alright,” he tries to assure me. “Nothing a little ice won’t help.”

“Good. But how about a good hot shower, first? I feel kind of… gritty…” He chuckles, then gives in with a nod.

“That sounds good. We could both use some cleaning up, I’m sure.”

~~~~~

We both shed our dirty outfits and step onto the tile of the shower room. It’s just a long room with several shower heads sticking out from the walls. No privacy. But then, men aren’t usually all that embaraced with such things, so there’s no need for separating walls. He turns on the water several spaces away from me on the opposing wall, and I do the same, adjusting the temperature and then letting the hot water pour down over my head. It feels good to be rid of the sweat I worked up playing.

But I’m more than just a little curious… I never got a good look at those marks on his back, and I felt weird when I wanted to ask him so I never did. This would be the perfect opportunity. I glance over my shoulder at him and study the markings. I’m close enough now to make out that they’re hieroglyphics. Nice ones. I wish I knew what they meant…

My eyes become interested in more than just the writing, and more with the dark flesh that it’s inscribed on. I follow the gentle curve of his back, and find myself staring at the more rounded curves below… Very nice… Beautiful… He pauses in his washing and slowly turns his head. I whip my own back around, hoping he didn’t notice my stare, and just what I was staring at.

So I try to avoid people finding out… but I’ve known for some time that I’m more attracted to men than women. For some reason, I just think male bodies are more striking, and even many faces are more appealing to me if they’re men. I suppose the way I act sometimes, my shyness, my gentleness… It can be pretty obvious what my preferences are…

~~~~~

I thought I felt that stare. I could’ve sworn it. But as I look over at him, I see that he’s not even facing me. So strange… Yes, I could’ve sworn I felt the same piercing gaze that I felt the day we met… Was it my imagination then, too?

I stop and wait, wondering if he really was staring and if he’ll turn around to do it again. But nothing. He just runs his fingers through his wet hair, rinsing out any sweat that would dry it out. Such nice hair. And since I’m already thinking about it, I look over the rest of him and decide that it’s a rather nice body, too. Which is strange for me to think, because I’ve never really studied another guy’s body like that before. He has such a small frame, but the curves that are there are quite fetching. Smooth.

Pushing these thoughts aside, I notice he’s now rubbing at his injured arm. It must still be hurting him. My worry begins to overcome my interest in his figure and I shut the water off, crossing the shower room to where he is.

“It’s still bothering you?” I ask him, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

~~~~~

Oh, no. Anything but this! I turn towards him and try to keep the red out of my cheeks. My voice doesn’t seem to be working, so I just nod. He reaches out and takes my arm in his hands, moving it around and testing the muscle. His touch is gentle…

Alright, so I’m in a shower with a strange, exotic boy that I already know I’m physically attracted to, we’re both naked, and he’s touching me…

It’s inevitable that my body is going to respond, and it takes fives seconds at most before my blood is conveniently relocating itself. I don’t want him to notice… I’ve got to think of a way out!

“I-I think the hot water is aggravating it…” I lie, smoothly pulling my arm from him and turning around. “I’m going to get some ice- I’ll meet you out front!” I try to sound chipper as I turn the water off and head towards the changing room, but my voice is threatening to waver.

I dress quickly, not wanting to be caught in another situation like that, again. How embaracing that could’ve been had he noticed…

~~~~~

I noticed. He didn’t want me to, but I noticed. He acted so anxious over it, though… I couldn’t say anything. I just ignored it and let him ease out of the situation. Was it just the warm water…? Or was it our nakedness and close proximity that aroused him? I may never know. And there’s no way I’m going to bring it up. After the friendship that we’ve been forging, I’d hate to scare him away by letting on that I perceived his… little dilemma.

Not that there was anything ‘little’ about it…

By the time I finish in the shower and return to the dressing room, he’s already gone. He said he would meet me out front… but what if he’s running away? That’s a foolish thought, though. Even though he’s shy, I don’t think he would run from such a thing. Would he?

I dress and grab the bag with my things in it before exiting, eager to meet up with him. And yes, there he is… just as he said he would be… ice in hand- err… ‘on arm’, as it were.

“Feeling better?” There’s a noticeable blush –of course on him, any amount of blush would be noticeable- before he manages to smile and nod. His white locks are still dripping, and I have to reach out and nudge a strand from in front of his eyes. “Good.” My voice is softer than I wanted it to be, but I don’t think he notices.

“What else did you want to do?” he asks, removing the ice from his arm long enough to hoist his own back over his unhurt shoulder.

“I’m not sure. Let’s drop these off with the car, at least.” He agrees silently and we begin the short walk. “Are you sure you’re alright? Should we go to a doctor?”

“Oh… no, it’s fine. It’s feeling much better, already.”

“Alright.” We reach the car and the driver loads our bags into the trunk. “Hnnn… how about some shopping?”

~~~~~

Shopping. It’s not the most interesting of choices… but it certainly works. Some things he could buy would be like souvenirs, after all. The car drops us off and we venture into all kinds of shops, some that I’ve never been in before. We look at everything from candy to clothes, buying whatever strikes us at the time. That car really comes in handy for storing bags full of recently purchased goodies and things…

“How about some ice cream?” he asks, pointing to a big cart selling said frozen sweets. “I love ice cream…”

“Okay, sure.”

A few minutes later, we each have a delicious ice cream cone, mine vanilla and his strawberry. After a few licks, he seems far too hyper, though. I guess he really does love ice cream…

“Look, Bakura… a photo booth!” he shouts joyously as we proceed down the street. “Let’s get a picture!”

“A picture?” I stall, trying to hide my loathing for cameras. “Oh, I-I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!” He grabs my hand and tugs a bit, then tugs a bit more until I can’t keep myself from moving forward. “Please…?” He looks at me with sad, pitiful eyes and sticks his lower lip out at me just a little.

“Oh, alright,” I whine, letting myself be lead to the contraption. I hate pictures. But I guess it could be worse…

~~~~~

I thought I’d never get him into the booth. But puppy-dog eyes prevail, and I drag him inside and lean over him to pull the curtain shut.

Several pictures later, I notice our ice cream beginning to melt, and he has a nice unsuspecting look on his face… Before the camera takes the next picture, I bump his arm and the ice cream is smeared right onto his nose. First he looks stunned, then embaraced. It’s absolutely adorable. But funny, too… so I have to laugh.

“Malik!” he protests my seeing humour in the matter.

“Oh, don’t be mad, Bakura,” I chuckle at him, watching the melting ice cream drip down his fingers. “It was funny!” He stares at me as soberly as he can for several seconds, then finally gives into a fit of soft laughter of his own.

“Yes… so maybe it was…”

“Mmmm-hmmm, and now I have a Bakura sundae!” With a sly smile I lean over and lick at the sweet, melting dessert on his nose, then use his state of shock to slip past him out of the booth to make sure I get the pictures before he does.

“Hey! No fair!” he calls after me, shoving the curtain aside and chasing me for the photos. “I want to see!”

“Oh, you look soooo funny in this one!” I tease him from several feet away, pointing dramatically at the picture. “And in this one, too! Oh! It’s funnier with ice cream!” My taunting makes him give chase again, and I take off into the park.

~~~~~

I’m going to catch him. I’m going to get those pictures. And then I’m going to burn them. He races into the park, but I know my way around there rather well. I’ve done some nice drawings there, actually…

He disappears from my view, though. It’s hard to lose a white-haired, tan boy in this part of the world… but I’ve effectively done it. I wander around for a while, casually finishing off the ice cream as I do so. My hand is getting all sticky, anyway.

Finally I investigate a small enclosure of bushes and trees, turning around in it and stopping with a sigh. I’m never going to find him… And just then, he pops out of a bush and grabs me.

“Hah!” he shouts, tickling me right down to the ground, even as I squeal and kick in protest. “I’ve got you, now!”

“Malik!” I gasp. “S-stop! That tickles!”

“That’s the point!” I wrestle with him to claim his wrists, then roll right over on top of him. “Hey!”

“Eye for an eye, Malik?”

“No!” I tickle him back a bit, seeing his own attempts to catch my wrists as I did his, and grab him instead and pin him to the ground. By this time we’re both breathing hard from the laughing and struggling, and I’m sure if anyone happened upon our little situation, they’d think the wrong thing.

But thinking that makes me think the wrong thing…

I release him and roll back onto the ground before my physical response is noticed, propping myself up with my hands behind me firmly on the ground. He doesn’t seem anything but happy, staring straight up at the sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees above us.

“This is the best day I’ve had in a long time, Bakura… Thank you.”

“Me, too…” I admit, leaning back onto the ground as he is.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave…”

“Me, too…”

~~~~~

“I love the sun,” I say out of nowhere.

“The sun…?” he asks.

“Mmm-hmmm. The sun. My ancestors worshiped many gods, but one of the most important, especially in the beginning, was Re. From the Old Kingdom on, they believed that the pharaohs were his descendants.”

“What does Re have to do with the sun?”

“Well… in the Book of the Dead, it says Re has a boat… and he travels across the sky each day, disappearing into the Underworld at night. He was the sun-god, you see. When he was in the underworld, Osiris would guide his journey through an underground river, and in the morning, if he would successfully make the voyage, he returned above ground… to light the sky…”

“That’s beautiful…” he whispers, not moving from his position for some time. When he does, it’s to prop himself up on one elbow and face me. “Do you believe it?” His voice holds only interest, none of the superstitious fear or criticism I usually find in those not native to the beliefs. I pause and think on it long and hard, trying to decide if I only learned the stories I was taught, or truly believe in the old mythology.

“I don’t know…” He ‘mmm’s to himself, then lies back down.

“Either way, it’s still beautiful.”

“Bakura?” I interrupt a long silence. “This is my last full day here… if there’s anything else you want to do…”

“Anything?”

“Name it.”