Dark Roses

Disclaimer – If I owned them, do you really think I would be writing this? Or that they would be showing it on television?

Author’s Notes – Umm . . . yeah, hi everyone! *scratches head* In the middle of Going On, Redemption, and Affectionate, I decided I needed a break and turned to lady_wolf5 to give me a plot bunny and go. The plot bunny she gave me is cute, fuzzy . . . and has one wicked set of teeth, let me tell you. He already bit Bakura . . . then again, my beloved Tomb Robber was too stubborn to simply leave him alone, so he deserved it.

Anyway, here’s a yami/hikari pairing story, featuring Marik/Malik, in alternate universe format, and romantic (although you know I’ll put lemons in here, I can’t resist) There will be angst (cause I can’t leave that out either).

This whole story is a big THANK YOU to lady_wolf5, who puts up with me pestering her for new chapters of One Dance and Alone, and chats with me late into the night when I don’t feel like sleeping. You’re great hun!

And for once, I will be using Marik as the yami, and Malik as the hikari . . . because that’s how my lovely lady_wolf5 writes em : ) Enjoy minna!

Dark Roses


1 – New School, New Beginnings


Walking into his new homeroom felt like he’d literally walked into the Nile in the middle of the night. Goosebumps broke out over the exposed golden flesh of his arms, all the way up to the sleeveless shoulders of the tight black shirt he’d worn to school that day. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his white jeans, trying to hide the nervous clenching of his fists as he stared at all the eyes staring back at him, trying to meet them with a glare.

It was hard, acting like a bad-ass when he was so fucking nervous. This was the third time in a year that they’d been forced to move . . . him, his sister, and his adopted brother. He wished Father would just give up trying to bring them back to hell . . .

Shaking his head slightly, pale blonde hair swaying with the movement as his golden earrings swayed against the gold choker he wore, he shoved that thought away. Father would never give up . . . not until he was dead, they were dead, or he had them in his grasp again.

“Malik Ishtar?” the teacher asked, tearing him away from his never-ending circle of thoughts as she glanced down at the paper in her hand. He nodded briskly, once again drawing his ‘touch me not’ attitude around him like the protective cloak it was. It wouldn’t do to let them think he was a victim . . . even though he was. His father’s victim . . .

“You’re in the last seat in the far row, next to our dear Bakura,” she said firmly. He looked where she nodded, taking in the empty seat next to a lounging . . . well, albino was the first thing that came to mind, until you got a look at the startling magenta eyes. Which were narrowed . . . and not at all welcoming. Snorting mentally, he made his way down the row and sank into the seat gracefully, ignoring the pale youth beside him. The guy could be a bad ass all he wanted . . . as long as he didn’t bother him, Malik couldn’t care less. He wasn’t here to make friends, or enemies for that matter . . . what was the use when they would simply have to move on again anyway?

Shifting in his seat, he leaned forward, placing his elbow on his desk and his chin in his hand, staring out the window and wondering how long it would be until they had to move on again.

By lunch time, he was thoroughly bored and annoyed. The classes here were dull, and far too easy . . . he’d been an advanced placement student in his last school, so he was months ahead of the classes here, where he’d been placed in a normal regiment. And he’d already identified the main group of trouble makers by the way the students acted around them . . . one was his homeroom seat-mate, Bakura.

The other’s he’d seen in the halls, and some cases had a class with them. They were all interesting in their own right . . . and if he’d had any chance of staying here, he might have been tempted to get to know them. It was like the beautiful bad-ass club . . . Bakura, the pale haired guy from his homeroom; Yami, who had the oddest hair he’d yet to have seen anywhere, and the most captivating crimson eyes that just seemed to look right through you; Seto, who was tall, muscular, aloof, and spectacular with sable hair and sapphire eyes. All of them were gorgeous, from what he’d seen of them.

But what was the point? He wouldn’t be staying, and they likely would have no interest in getting to know him anyway. From what he’d seen of them, they were a pretty tight knit group . . . and they scared the living hell out of the rest of the student populace.

Getting through the lunch line was easy enough, but as he turned he found that all of the tables were claimed. With a sigh, he took his tray of un-edible looking goop and plopped down at the nearly empty table of geeks, who all looked at him like he was some god descending from on high. He glared at them, lavender eyes flashing coldly for a moment until they turned back to their food before settling down to pick out what, if anything, was edible on his tray.

A stir near one of the other tables caught his attention, and he glanced over that way . . . and froze.
“MARIK! GOD DAMN IT!” Yami shouted, pulling his tight leather shirt out of his equally tight leather pants and holding the back out . . . from which came two clumps of ice. But that wasn’t what caught him, as interesting as it was to catch a glimpse of Yami’s flesh. What had his attention was the tall blonde standing nearby . . . who could have been his twin if not for the longer, slightly more ragged blonde hair and the deep violet eyes that were twinkling mischievously. Those violet orbs swung his way as if feeling his gaze, and he turned back to his lunch hurriedly, trying to get the feeling of his heart climbing into his throat to go away. The vision of what could have been his body in more muscular form, wearing tight beige slacks and a white silk shirt danced before his eyes, and he quickly shut them and tried to will the image away.

“You needed to cool off anyway, Yami,” Bakura chuckled, leaning back in his seat and stretching before standing up to look towards the door. “Yugi’s late and you start getting bothered. They’ll be along soon enough . . . probably had to run by Ryou’s locker.” Just as he said it, the two beings in question waltzed through the door, their small bodies winding through the crowd easily toward their table.

Ryou didn’t even have a chance to set his bag and his lunch down before Bakura pounced on him, growling like a large, overly playful feline as he nipped at the side of the smaller boy’s neck. Ryou giggled slightly and swatted him away, even as Yugi found himself pressed up against a very hard body and found himself enveloped in a breathtaking kiss.

Marik noticed none of this . . . it was typical for a lunch time with them. He was more interested in the blonde that had been staring at him a few moments ago. The fact that the new student looked like him was something of a second consideration . . . what had him caught was those startling lavender eyes, which didn’t hide nearly as much as their owner probably wanted them to. There had been surprise there . . . but also a shocking amount of hidden pain and darkness. If there was one attribute that Marik could definitely say he was cursed with, it was curiosity . . . and right at the moment, it was running a full speed.

“Get a room, you two,” Seto growled from his spot at the table, where he was typing away at his laptop.

“Get a life, Kaiba,” Yami snapped back, looking up from where he was leaving a rather spectacular mark on the side of Yugi’s neck. “Just because you haven’t found the right person yet . . .” Seto calmly flipped him off, not even looking up from the screen.

“Bakura,” Marik said, drawing the white haired youth’s attention from where he was busily feeding Ryou . . . or tossing grapes at Kaiba, whichever happened to be more amusing at the moment. “You said you had a new student in your homeroom this morning . . . is that him?” He nodded towards the blonde at the ‘geek boutique’. Magenta eyes swung that way for a second before Bakura turned back with a nod.

“Yep, that’s him,” he confirmed. “You know, I completely forgot to mention how much he looks like you, man. Too much on my mind, I guess.”

“More like Ryou on your mind, you love besotted moron,” Marik said, earning a glare from his pale friend. “You’re all fucking pathetic.” He sat down in his seat, the image of the new student etched into his head. He wondered what his story was . . . it took a lot to put that much pain and darkness in someone’s eyes. He knew, because once he had been like that . . . before he’d hooked up with his friends.

Used to being alone all his life, it had taken a lot for him to even let them talk to him, much less actually befriend him. A life spent in a house where he wasn’t wanted, with a father who hated him and a mother who resented him, he’d gotten used to not being near anyone.

Then he’d run into Bakura . . . who, of all things, was practicing his thieving skills at the time. Having accidentally got caught up in the heist, he’d made the foolish mistake of attacking the pale youth for making him an accomplice to petty robbery . . . and Bakura had literally handed him his ass. He’d never met anyone who could take everything he had to give from a lifetime of being beaten and give it back tenfold . . . so he and the thief had become friends.

He’d gone on to meet the rest of the small band of hellion’s, and he’d been surprised by the variety of backgrounds that the group possessed. Kaiba was actually the teenage CEO of his own corporation, a millionaire in his own right . . . but he’d been an orphan growing up, and he and his brother had been adopted by an abusive man early in life. He was cold, and slightly egotistical . . . but he had a big, loyal heart for those who got to know him. It was just difficult to get inside that icy shell.

Yami was an interesting individual as well . . . also rich, but from his own skills, not those of his parents, who were constantly off doing something somewhere in the world. The tri-haired boy was a game master . . . not only did he hold the current title for Chess, but was also the King of the newest card game, Duel Monsters. He made more money playing games than Kaiba did selling them . . . but surprisingly, he wasn’t very stuck up about it. Probably because his parents didn’t seem to give a shit what he did, as long as he didn’t interfere with their lives.

And then there was the other part of the group . . . mainly, Ryou and Yugi. It had been startling, at first, to discover that there were two young, innocent people who looked almost exactly like his new friends . . . but once he’d gotten to know them, he could understand why they fit in. Even though they both had pretty normal homesteads . . . outside of Ryou’s father being an archaeologist that was away all the time . . . they both had a niche in the small group of miscreants.

Ryou, while being almost the exact opposite of Bakura in temperament, did have a mischievous streak that complemented the thief really well. Nine times out of ten, if Bakura pulled off a heist, Ryou had done the planning for it.

Yugi, on the other hand, was very laid back and almost naïve . . . until you hooked him up with Yami. When that happened, his quick wit and razor sharp tongue came out in full force, and then you had a real hellcat on your hands. Yami was cool and calculating, but Yugi was his heart and soul, the passion and fire that made him human.

It was almost narcissistic, the way his two friends were dating people who looked almost exactly like them . . . but Bakura had said, in sort of an odd way, that it was like an outward sign that they were meant to be together. It was one of the few philosophical and overly-intelligent comments the guy had ever made . . . Bakura didn’t let his rather high IQ show very often.

That, of course, was what had him wondering right now. Could it be possible that Bakura’s statement held more truth than he’d originally thought? How often was it that you actually saw someone who could have passed as your mirror image? Or had an instant attraction to a complete stranger, especially when you usually took an instant disliking to everyone until they proved otherwise?

He glanced back up to find his living mirror . . . and blinked to find that he was gone. That was odd. He turned in time to see the back of his blonde head sliding out the door quickly, and he almost rose to follow him and find out what was wrong before he forced himself to stay seated. This was out of character for him, and until he found out just exactly what was going on, he wasn’t going to act on it. But the image of haunted lavender eyes stayed with him, and he found that lunch had lost it’s appeal, no matter what the antics of his friends.


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


The bathroom wasn’t exactly the safest refuge in the world, but it was the only place he could find, and he dashed into it and locked the door, sliding down the tiled wall to sit staring at the closed portal with wide lavender eyes.

Who was he? And more, what was he doing here? That kind of coloring could only come from an Egyptian heritage . . . was his strange look-alike somehow connected to their father?

With shaking hands, Malik pulled his cell phone out of his book bag, hitting the speed dial for his sister’s phone. He waited anxiously for her to pick up, and nearly sobbed with relief when she finally did.

“Ishizu . . . this kid . . .” he babbled. “Oh gods . . . he looks just like me . . . what if Father planted him here . . .?”

“Malik! Calm down and talk rationally! What is going on?” Ishizu murmured calmly into his ear. Just the sound of her voice managed to calm his whirlwind thoughts . . . his sister had practically raised him, and sometimes she was more mother than sibling to the over-wrought boy.

“There’s a kid here at the school . . . he looks just like me, Ishizu,” he said finally, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “You don’t think Father . . .”

“Father could not have placed him here, Malik,” she said rationally, her soothing voice brushing his raw nerves comfortingly. “There is no way he could have suspected we would come here . . . this city isn’t even on the map, it’s not a major metropolis. Father won’t think to find us here . . . we’re safe, little brother, for a while at least. Calm down. Coincidences do happen.” Malik nodded at the rational words, even though his sister couldn’t see him. He was still shuddering like a leaf caught in a strong wind, but the tremors were slowly dying off as his sister spoke.

“Okay,” he whispered finally. “I just . . . it was so shocking . . . I over-reacted. I’m sorry, sister.” Ishizu sighed, but laughed a little on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay, Malik,” she murmured. “I can understand why. Do not worry about it.” There was some talking in the background. “I have to go, Malik,” she said after a pause. “Will you be okay? Or should I send Odion to come get you after school?” Blonde hair swayed gently as he shook his head.

“No . . . I’ll be fine, Ishizu,” he replied. “It was just a shock, that’s all. I’m good.” Saying his goodbyes as the bell rang for the next class, he gathered his things and shut the cell phone, tucking it back into his pocket carefully. He could make it through this day . . . it was just one class at a time.


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


The last class of the day arrived without anymore incidents . . . until he stepped into the classroom and nearly ran head long into a white silk clad chest. He stepped back, planning on glaring at whoever had gotten in his way . . . and froze as he met violet eyes in a face that was too familiar for his comfort.
Marik was just as startled to see him as he was to see the taller boy, and they stood there in a strange taboo for several moments before someone cleared their throat behind Malik. With a slight start and an angry shake of his head, the shorter blonde walked around his look-alike and strode to the front desk, tossing his name slip onto it before getting his seat from the teacher and making his way toward it, acting as if nothing strange had happened.

Yami glanced at Marik as he stepped into the room, immediately noticing his friend’s preoccupation with the new student.

“My friend, you look like you just got hit between the eyes with a hammer,” the tri-haired teenager murmured, shoving his slightly taller friend toward their shared table in the back right corner of the room. “See something you like?” Marik growled at him, and he raised his hands playfully in surrender before taking his seat. “You have to admit, it is interesting . . . if you follow Bakura’s little philosophy,” he said, earning another growl.

Deciding to leave it alone . . . pushing Marik toward something inevitably meant he went the other way . . . he turned to his books and flipped open the binding to page through for the lesson of the day. It didn’t escape his notice, however, that his friend kept shooting glances toward the new student, and inwardly he smiled. Marik could be stubborn and a bit psychotic at times, but even he couldn’t deny what was obviously already worming its way into his heart.

‘Curiosity killed the cat,’ he thought to himself dryly. ‘But getting the cream is what brought it back.’