(Yami Marik x Amane Bakura)
Darkness covered the everlasting sky. The colors, if any, consisted of dark blues and gothic purples. An Egyptian man lay bound to the cold stone floor by his wrists and ankles by golden shackles with the eye of Horus on them. The horrid breeze brushed against his skin continuously, absolutely refusing to stop. The only thing protecting him from this cold was a thin white shenti, which did little help as the breeze slipped under it.
He inhaled the stale cold air then exhaled only to see his own miserable excuse for breath. He glared at it as he slammed his legs and arms up relentlessly like a small child throwing a tantrum. He was completely sick of this never ending torture, he'd done nothing wrong. It was his nature to kill, hate, and enjoy the torture of others; he was born from the hate, envy, and rage of Malik, what was he supposed to do? Not be born? It wasn't his choice damn it!
He felt something cover his body, causing him to snap his head up in surprise. "Who the hell are you?"
In front of him stood a girl, no older then twelve. She had short wavy white hair with thin bangs and a yellow bow on the front right area of her hair. Her chocolate brown eyes were warm, but held a certain tortured sadness that Marik could depict easily. Her skin was almost as white as her hair. She had a genuine smile on her face that sickened Marik to no end. Oh how he yearned to do something, anything, to her that would wipe it off her face; not by hatred, hell he'd never seen the girl once in his life, it was by nature to want to see others in pain.
"Hello," she said quietly.
Marik glared. The girl sat down and took off her black Mary Jane shoes and fiddled with her white stockings. The Egyptian was revolted by her innocence; her yellow old European styled dress, the natural flush on her cheeks, everything was just too clean, too pure.
She covered Marik up better with the blanket. That moment he noticed, that's what she had put on him. An old but thick blanket that gave him barely any warmth; but hey, it was better then before.
She edge closer to his face on her knees. She looked at him curiously. "I'm Amane." She introduced.
He growled, turning his head to the opposite side.
Amane pouted. She reached out to his shoulder. He flung his head back to her, "Don't touch me wench!"
She giggled, "What are you going to do about it? You're pretty helpless right now."
He glared, she was wrong, he hated to admit it, but he was completely helpless. He turned his head to the side. The girl grabbed onto the edges of his face and began to turn it around. I need to hurt her! Think Marik, think!
"OW! You bit me!" she shrieked. Marik closed his eyes in satisfaction; the first shriek in the Shadow Realm beside his own filled him with content.
"That was mean." She whined playfully.
"Piss off," Marik growled.
"I said piss off you stupid mortal girl."
"But I'm not mortal, and certainly not stupid."
"As well as you're not a girl."
"Don't mess with a ghost you petty prisoner!"
Marik's eyes snapped open, no one called him petty. He snapped up to slap her but the chain held him down and slammed him into the hard grown. He clenched his teeth and mumbled every curse word in existence under his breath.
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have called you that." Amane apologized.
Marik flipped her off. Tears filled Amane's eyes. They began to stream down her face. Marik's eyes rolled back in ecstasy. He needed this; he hadn't had this in so long; he lusted for this kind of torture inflicted on others. The tears fell on to the Egyptian's chin. He reached his tongue out and lapped it up.
She wiped her tears. "I'm dead. I'm a ghost. I was sent to the shadow realm many years ago by a horrid entity. My body's been unoccupied for so long that I was announced dead six years ago. I'm forced to wander the shadows forever, when I did nothing wrong." She explained.
"Hmph, why do you assume that I care?" asked Marik.
"I don't. I've just been alone for so long, my brother doesn't even try to communicate with me any more. I wanted to tell someone my sorrows." Amane answered.
"Well listen wench, you're not getting any sympathy from me, I enjoy your pain." He chuckled.
"Who said I was sad? Even though you're so horrid to me, I'm happy I have any company at all. These are tears of joy!"
Marik felt as if he would vomit how this stupid wench could be so full of joy was unknown to him. Happiness was a foreign feeling to him that he gave off the impression that he didn't want it, but the truth is he was just scared of it. But that was something that he wouldn't admit even to himself.
"Do you know why you're shackled? Most souls in this realm just wander forever, but you're held in one place."
"No, and I don't care, be gone!" he growled, he was beginning to become annoyed with this girl.
She ran her pointer finger of his callused knuckles. Marik shivered as an unfamiliar sensation ran through his body. She moved to put her entire hand over his. She caressed his cold hand, trying to add some sort of body heat to him. She slipped her hand over his arm and shoulder. He rolled his head back and arched his back. He'd never felt someone's touch like this, for no one had ever dared to touch him. Something as gentle and innocent as this, it was so simple yet meant so much.
Marik felt disgusted with himself that he was writhing under the fingers of a twelve year old like this. He felt weak, helpless, not because he couldn't move, because he didn't want to move. He enjoyed this girl's touch.
Amane did the same thing to Marik's opposite arm with her other hand. When both hands were on his shoulders, she began to massage them gently. Her hands ran up and down his upper torso, not in a seductive way, but more of a motherly way. No this girl was not doing this out of attraction, but out of kindness. When she first saw him, she knew that he secretly longed to feel the kindness of another being; that was why he was shackled. Others were cold to him and that he was alone for so long; that's why his punishment in the realm was specifically what it was.
She climbed on top of him and nuzzled her face into his neck as she continued he hands movements. She could feel his hot, jagged breath on her own neck. He was showing warmth to her; he was accepting another person into his personal space.
She kissed his neck gently and moved up his jaw line. Her lip eventually landed on his lips, causing his eyes to snap open. His stubbornness screamed to get her off of him, but everything else screamed to give in. Marik was never one to listen to his gut feeling, but this time, unconsciously, he felt like he'd let it slide.
He kissed back roughly, bruising the other's lips. Believe it or not this was his first kiss. Of course he wasn't going to squeal like a giddy teenage girl, but something inside made him feel excited and jittery from this sensation.
Amane ran her fingers through his hair as she put all of her passion in to the kiss. She had only kissed one person in her life, on the day she died. Or more, he kissed her; not out of affection but to taunt her, to rub it in her face that he had complete control of her brother's body and their wasn't a thing she could do about it. Then he sent her to the shadow realm and ruined any chance at life she may have had.
She pulled away and just stared at Marik. His eyes had been shut, he had actually felt happiness. She smiled at that. The Egyptian opened his eyes to see why she had stopped. She climbed off of him. "You're free now."
"Huh?" Marik looked at his wrists, they were no longer shackled. He sat up quickly and ripped the blanket off of his lower half to see they were no longer bounded either.
He stood up only to feel that his legs were asleep, causing him to fall back down. Amane laughed at this and scooted down to his legs and began to massage them to return feeling. "Get the hell off!" Marik shouted attempting to kick her, but his legs were too numb.
"What, you allow me to kiss you then you go back to this mean person again? That's not cool."
Marik raised an eyebrow, when did she start talking like a regular kid? In fact, when did she start being so happy? Was it that kiss? He brushed it off; he had to get out of the Shadow Realm.
"How do you get out of here?" Marik felt disgusted, he was asking for help.
Amane laughed at him, "If I knew don't you think I'd be gone by now? You sent people to the Shadow Realm, you should know that you can't get out unless the person either, A. dies, B. is sent to the shadow realm himself, or if the person who sent you willingly let's you out."
"How did you know that I sent people here?"
"I here plenty of people screaming from farther ends of the Shadows things like, 'Damn you Marik!'"
"Yeah, but that was, what, like two years ago? Yeah that's it-"
"Wait, two years! I've been trapped for two years?"
"Yeah, I think, it could've been longer; it's hard to tell here."
Marik let out an exasperated sigh. Amane stroked his tanned cheek, causing him to flinch. He went to slap her away," Stop. I can tell you've never let anyone in, just please let yourself have at least one moment of happiness." She begged.
Like he was under a spell, he obliged. The snow white hand stroked his cold cheek. He shivered as the warmth from Amane's hand chased away the icy feeling in his face. She added her other hand to his other cheek and caressed him in a motherly way. She pulled him close to her and placed her lips over his yet again.
She didn't know why, but Amane felt addicted to this feeling. The feeling deep in her stomach she felt while kissing him. It felt at first like butterflies, then complete fulfillment. It was a feeling she'd never be able to share with Marik in real life. Marik's hands rubbed on the girl's flat stomach as Amane's hands twisted in his hair. She gently licked his bottom lip begging for entrance, which he happily allowed as he laid her on her back, his arms resembling that of iron bars on a cage; that, though torturous looking, had a strange safeness that made both prisoners feel calm.
Though completely different, they were exactly the same. They were different entities, never free to live life for real. Their kisses could never be real; their hands would never intertwine like they did in that imaginary world. It was all their minds doing the work. They never really met, Marik was never really trapped by shackles, and Amane never really saved him. They were truthfully just lying alone in different parts of the never ending darkness. That was the true torture of the shadows, though all the pain felt real, though all of the passion felt real, and though everything felt real; it wasn't. It never would be.
They had all the passion and all the want for each other. Even after years of finally agreeing to love each other, of giving into what they thought was weakness; it was never real. They were the lovers that were, but would never be.