Malik could feel Bakura's eyes on him.

The thief thought he was sleeping; he watched the slow, easy rise and fall of his chest, admired the dark skin and the intricate designs across his back.

Without warning, pale fingers skirted along the foreign markings, harsh and dark. He shivered at the touch, but didn't dare move. Malik thought they were ugly.

Bakura thought they were beautiful.

Malik smiled and fell asleep.