Why am I starting new stories when I have so many left to finish? Simple. Because I am Ninjabelle and therefore your argument is invalid.
Rated M because that's what's going down in the next chapter.
I wanted to write thiefshipping. Good thiefshipping set in the 'a few years later somehow a certain Yami Bakura miraculously shows up alive and well, with a body of his own' kind of AU. So it won't even be AU. The canon has happened, we skip some years and BAM. Here's 'Warm'. I tried to make this as believable as possible and I want this to become a masterpiece on its own... so for now, no warnings, just a total ENJOY and don't forget that I love you. And Malik. And Bakura.
DISCLAIMER: I own my skills as a writer and a decent amount of imagination? XD
I follow your scent all the way back to your precious Egypt.
Watch you dab your pretty gold locks dry with a pristine white towel, one that so magically brings out the delicious deep tan of your skin.
Your hair has grown out since the last time I laid my dark eyes on you, sitting and waiting anxiously in that car that one day another life of mine ended. How I missed you, I realize now.
You're unaware of my presence, but that isn't a bad thing. I'm very aware of yours however, and every move you make, every shift of your limbs, flutter of your eyelids, I watch.
You're beautiful, Malik.
But you must be punished for turning your back to the past and never looking back.
Did you forget about me too?
Surely it must've been hard to overcome the things you had to, in order to start anew. But I was cast aside so easily and you never once tried to retrieve me. Oh how I was so determined to change the past and set certain things straight back then I hardly noticed you were missing. But when I did, the feeling of disappointment washed over me like the saltiest waves. You weren't there to watch me rule, to put the Pharaoh you once claimed to hate so much right in his place.
Oh how I would've loved to see those pretty eyes of yours flicker with barely hidden excitement as I plunged a dagger in his heart- but maybe it's all for the better you weren't there to watch. At least you didn't witness my ultimate failure. That'd been too much to bare, even for me.
Nothing should soil the picture of the darkest darkness, the everlasting all consuming shadow I still resemble in your memories. If only you knew how easily defeated I was.
Ah well, that's all in the past as well. Times have changed a bit, I noticed, during the time I was away, if you prefer to call it that. A lengthy absence, I suppose. I had plenty of time to think things through though, but I walk this earth now with nothing of my original strength restored. Perhaps that's my punishment for fooling the gods over and over. Shadows never die. The sun can shine as he wants, blinding and tricking one into believing there's no such thing as a darkness looming over them. But as soon as the moon rises high, their fate will be sealed and they will pay for their mistakes. Shadows never die.
But life goes on.
First thing I did when I awoke in the middle of the abandoned desert at dusk was throw my head back and laugh. Once again I had tempted faith, and I was back. But nothing connected me with my old host, and the pendant, the only thing I wore, was nothing but empty gold on a leather strap.
I quickly noticed my skin was pale and thin, hands unmarred and nails finely manicured. At least Ryou had been good enough to provide me with a nice replica of his body in my third lifetime.
I should consider myself lucky, however, making one's way through a desert with nothing but the whitest skin brutally exposed isn't much of a blessing at all.
I overcame that though, and somehow made my way to the outskirts of Cairo, where the smallest hints of you, my Malik, soon became visible as I wondered around aimlessly.
Your beautiful sister I found before you however, as expected she was managing the museum, busying herself with archeological business and whatnot, accompanied by your dearest brother and protector. Despite how I can appreciate her fine and elegant features, her dark wavy locks do nothing for me, I long for only you, Malik.
This is how I found you, by following the two of them after a long day of hard work. Their jeep drove to an enormous mansion with balconies and lush flower gardens a plenty. And as I shifted my gaze upwards I found you, sitting on the highest balcony's ledge, eyes cast over the city below. Finally, finally.
I have been watching you ever since, it must be your room up there, and you hardly ever leave it. Sometimes you go for a casual drive on your old bike, or take a dip in the swimming pool on the lower level of your grand mansion. I watch it all, I've secured a shabby apartment with a window that allows me to shamelessly eye you, and despite it being warm and dusty it feels like home simply because I am in my beloved Egypt, and because if I look through my only window I can see you reminisce on your terrace at sunset, every evening.
If I hadn't fallen for you before, I have now. I want nothing but to make you mine, however my return to your life, I fear, might not be as welcomed as I'd hoped.
Perhaps now that I am granted a more human life, with a body of my own, that feels thirst and hunger and all kinds of needs I had forgotten one could feel, this insecurity is a part of it too.
What if you're not thrilled to see me? What if you've truly changed so much the Malik so vividly in my memories is no more?
Still I want you… and as I watch you retreat for the night I finally tear my gaze away and rest for a while. I have time. I needn't rush.
The next morning I awake to the loud baritone of my next door neighbor, shouting something from his window to an equally annoying man down below. I groan and make a move to turn over and block out the sounds with a pillow conveniently pulled over my ear, but as usual my mind fills itself with thoughts of you and I can't suppress the urge to crawl from my mattress and sit myself in front of my window, eyes on your bedroom door, always opened slightly. So easy to invade…
Although I can't really see into your bedroom -all I can see through one window, if I crane my neck real far, is a bedside table with a glass of water on it. Standard, in case you get thirsty in the middle of the night- I do assume you're sleeping, you've developed lazy habits, Malik. You stay in bed until noon, then disappear to one of the lower levels for a while and come back to your chambers at sunset, always.
It pleasantly surprises me though, when I find you sitting at the breakfast table with your siblings after I put some effort in scanning the entire house for signs of life. You look almost bored as you watch your sister talk, your elbows rest on the table and your hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. What I wouldn't give to entertain you now, but no… not yet. Suddenly you both stand up and hug, when you step back you pull that goofy smile you could never fool me with, though it seems to work fine enough for your family members. Your sister hugs you again before disappearing from the room and you continue to talk to your brother as you finish your crackers. -and yes, by now I've even memorized your eating patterns. You truly appear to have a love for crackers.
A while later I'm surprised to see both your sister and brother exit the mansion with big bags if luggage as you wave them goodbye halfheartedly. So they've left? I wonder to where… but my eyes are only on you as you walk back in, snatch yourself an enormous bucket of ice cream -it has to be vanilla. You've always loved vanilla. -and manifest yourself on the couch, in front of a TV the size of my entire wall. Veeery classy, Malik. Truly. You seem content though, and not at all intent to leave anytime soon so I shower and dress instead, making my way to the city as the sun blazes down upon me.
It hasn't changed here much at all, the markets are still crowded and salesmen still roar loudly over the sounds of content rumor left and right. I come here daily, for a change of pace or perhaps a reminder of my childhood days. Old habits die hard, though with the years came more awareness it seems. My rivals are no longer skilled bandits but groups of arrogant teens pretending to be more than meets the eye. It makes me laugh now, as I'm still the absolute King. I don't steal for the thrill anymore, simply for what I need to get by. Foolish tourists a plenty, and vendors never notice a fruit or two missing. No, my new thrill sits on a soft couch, unbothered and unmotivated, not even aware of my presence.
I stop by the museum, just to check. "Would Miss Ishtar be present today? I would like to discuss certain matters concerning the gallery." The young lady behind the reception desk shakes a no and I feign disappointment as she chatters away of how "Miss Ishtar is away for an excavation, she won't be back for another month I'm afraid…" That's it then, I muse, and I stroll back home. Those bags, your poor attempt at a 'I'll miss you guys' smile. I smirk. So you're all alone now, my Malik. All alone in your big home, unaware of the stranger so aware? My chance is now, or so it seems. The circumstances will not be so perfect ever again, and all I can think of is the look in your eyes, should you see me stand before you alive and well after all this time.
Tomorrow, I decide, as I sit and watch you reminisce at sunset yet again. Tomorrow we'll meet. My chest tightens, old emotions that scream to me of how 'the past is the past' or 'let him go, he'll come too close…' but I'll dismiss them. I want this. I want you, Malik, and after thousands of years wanting nothing but revenge and living on nothing but a grudge and all the unhealthy emotions that come along with it, I am finally starting anew. You'll be the only part of my past I wish to take with me on my new journey. You'll be the only one I ever truly wanted.
-don't ask me how Bakura's able to see into every room of Malik's home, and don't ask why a total shabby apartment building is somehow standing directly across a million dollar mansion. Just don't.
BUT YOU MAY REVIEW. In fact, I'd love that so much I might actually post the delicious next chapter, after I write it, of course.
Thiefshipping FTW. It deserves more love.