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“Look!” Bakura calls out, throwing the rolled-up tent down on the field. “We’re doing it! We’re sleeping outside!”
The irony is so thick in his voice, it makes Malik roll his eyes behind him, crouching down to get their stuff out of his bag. “For once we’re doing something I asked you to. Wow, miracles do happen…”
Bakura holds his hands out like he’s hugging the wind, standing in the middle of the field they have chosen on the edge of a little hill, with quite some forest sheltering their perimeter. It’s a cold day in autumn and after many days spent lazying at home, Malik had asked Bakura to spend one night outside in the open, just to watch the sunset.
His arms drop once he hears Malik’s comment, turning to him with a glare. “For once !?”
“Come over here and help me unpack already!” Malik calls out to him, tying his hair up in a ponytail, which keeps getting in the way during this windy season. Bakura turns to him and - begrudgingly - complies of course.
It takes the two boys much longer than normally required to make their tent sit up. Malik keeps correcting whatever Bakura is doing by pointing at the instructions, but the other doesn't care much about that and tries his own creative ways to make it stand - with various fails. The sky acquires some pink and orange tones once they’re finished.
Malik sits on a soft groundsheet in front of their little campfire, his magenta scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and his vacuum flask firm in his gloved hands. “It’s not even that cold,” he sighs and shivers comfortably, letting the heat of the fire warm his body. His eyes roam cautiously all over the place, most of all in the dark corners of the forest. He’s dreading the darkening sky but he doesn’t want to think about it now.
“You’re sitting in front of the fire, Malik,” Bakura’s voice calls out from the tent as he’s crawling over to him. “Move a few inches in the forest there, and you’ll see how cold it is.” He’s standing on his knees behind Malik, a gentle, fingerless-gloved hand on his shoulder as he hands him a package of marshmallows. His hair is tied up as well, his long ponytail set on the turquoise scarf wrapped around his neck.
“I know that, Bakura.” Malik scolds him like he can’t believe he has to be corrected on that. “But you kept nagging at home how I will be complaining about the cold.” He sighs comfortably again as he relaxes into Bakura’s massaging hand on his shoulder. “But I’m doing just fine.” His lids drop almost completely, as he still keeps an alert eye on their surroundings.
Bakura grins cheekily down at him. “Well, just in case, I’d know many ways to keep you warm even without that fire on.”
“Of course you do,” Malik breathes out and then takes a sip of his flask. “And no, we’re not gonna fuck tonight, Bakura.”
Bakura stops every movement, his hair horns mimicking his brows as they rise up. “What.”
“You heard me,” Malik replies calmly, taking out a marshmallow and sticking it to his skewer.
Puzzled, Bakura leans his head down to face the other. “Are you being fucking serious?”
“Yes,” Malik shrugs, holding the marshmallow by the fire. “I came here to watch the sunrise and not… fuck in the open.”
Bakura keeps blinking nonplussed at him.
“Altho’...” By Malik’s expression, it looks like he’s thoughtfully rehearsing his own words in his head. “It does sound quite appealing…”
An enthusiastic, wicked grin forms on Bakura’s face. “Right?!” He sits down next to his partner, sneaking his arm around his waist. “You just need to think about it for a little… and you’re sold, eh?!”
Malik’s eyes travel towards the forest, restlessly like always. He seems to consider the idea.
“Right?!” Bakura‘s grin keeps spreading, his pointy teeth exposed as he’s about to burst from excitement.
“Hmm… no.” Malik directs his eyes back on the marshmallow he’s roasting, clearly not planning on adding anything more on the matter.
Just like the marshmallow slowly melting on the stick, Bakura’s grin sinks away. “Tsk,” He scoffs and grabs for his skewer. “Brat,” He sticks a marshmallow with much-unrequited violence on it and moves over to sit on a spot further apart by the fire - like he’s pettily making a point to put more distance between them. “Killjoy,” he mutters under his breath, between various different curses.
Malik looks sternly back at him, batting his lashes slowly. “Stop acting like a child.”
“And you stop acting like a mom … or a teacher, or whatever.”
The choice of insult makes Malik frown for a second. He retrieves his stick and inspects the softness of his candy before sighing impatiently, “Are you now planning to be grumpy all night because of that?”
“I’m not grumpy, I'm mad!” Bakura hisses at him, cheek leant broodily against his knee as he’s holding his marshmallow on the fire. He seems to enjoy making it burn intentionally.
Malik fixes his eyes on the carbonized candy and then back to Bakura. “Why don’t you drink your chai and calm down a little?”
“What chai?” Bakura raises a questioning brow at him before following his line of vision to his vacuum flask. “That’s coffee.”
“Coffee?! ” Malik exclaims in an exaggeratedly pitched tone. He rests a dramatic hand on his forehead. “Are you really so stupid to pull an all-nighter even here or what?”
“What the fuck do you care?” Bakura bares his teeth at him, resting his chin on his knee again before throwing his candy in the fire. He has given up on grilling. “And whatever you’re drinking you should better stop cause it’s making you unbearably sour.”
Malik blinks offended back at that. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.” Bakura grouses, “You are sour.”
Malik’s mouth turns angrily into a frown, his chest rising up in appalling anger. He reaches for a marshmallow inside the bag and just throws it to Bakura's head.
“Hey! ”
“Just stick it in your stupid hair, no one would notice the difference anyway!”
Bakura frowns disturbed at Malik’s words. “Listen here, you little brat…” He stands up and heads towards him.
“Stay back!” Malik cries dramatically and holds out his stick like it’s a sword.
Bakura frowns at it for a few seconds before grabbing it with his gloved hand and tugging it away from him. “Or else what?” He snickers and goes to push the other on the ground.
“Get off!” Malik squeals as he’s being tackled to the ground, but he soon starts laughing as he feels how Bakura’s fingers are tickling at his ribcage.
“Or what, eh?” Placing himself on top of Malik, he uses his weight to pin him down, his legs kneeled down on either side of his hips. He fights to get hold of his evading hands.
“Stop!” Malik yells as his wrists get pinned to the ground but he manages to free one hand and reach for Bakura’s scarf. “You brute!” He hisses, before pulling at it, dragging him down and making Bakura’s lips land on his.
The white-haired horns rise up for that, and Bakura hums approvingly into the kiss. He lets go of Malik’s wrist to sink his arms lower, hugging Malik’s body tighter to him and kissing him vigorously.
Both boys are toppled on the grassy ground, rather than on the groundsheet. Leaves blow around them as the air gets chillier and the sun starts slowly to descend.
Bakura pulls back from the kiss with quite some spirit, panting and grinning cheekily down at Malik. “That’s more like it…”
Malik is panting too, his cheeks reddening as he scoffs, “Shut up!” He looks up at Bakura, and how he contrasts with the pinkening sky in his background, his grin as bold and as real as always. His garnet eyes are alight and gleaming, and Malik just has to look away because it makes his heart flutter too fast. “Idiot...” He mutters softly, and turns his face away, everywhere but on Bakura.
As his eyes land on the horizon, he gasps. “It starts!”
He shoves Bakura hard off of him, making the other huff out an exhale as he lands on his back. Confused, he looks to where Malik is going and sees the Egyptian sitting up excitedly as he stares at the far off sky. The sun is starting to sink.
Groggily, he stands up, scratching at his head. “Whatever…” he mutters under his breath. He moves his coffee inside the tent and goes to grab some cushions and his quilt out.
The dusk starts to fade the brighter colours from the sky, as slower darker tones are invading it. Malik’s eyes are fixed, both in fascination and worry, on the panorama displayed in front of him. The next sound he hears however makes his body tense in fear.
Bakura extinguished the fire.
Malik turns to the dissipating smoke with worried eyes and his heartbeat starts to race. Bakura doesn’t seem to realise it as he walks over to lie on the bed he prepared for himself outside the tent.
“Why…?” Malik asks softly, hiding the tremor in his voice. He can’t let Bakura see how scared he is. Now is not the time for that, even if it’s already getting too dark for his liking.
The other makes himself comfortable on his blanket, his arms crossed behind his head on the propped up pillows. “Why what?”
“The fire…” Malik points weakly at it. “We could have left it on.”
“Na, that thing is dangerous. It’s better not to sleep with all that fire on.” Bakura’s eyes move to the horizon. “And also, too much light ruins your spectacle.”
Malik racks his brain for another excuse. “But it’s gonna be so cold, Habibi.”
“Come on, you brought a heatable quilt here.” Bakura taps on the sheet he’s resting on. “And we have those little stoves in the tent. Don’t worry, you won’t be cold.”
On one hand, Malik is quite relieved Bakura didn’t catch up on him being actually afraid to sleep in the dark. It was his idea to sleep outside. He shouldn't be complaining. But on the other hand, he knows he has a hard time ahead of him now. He might as well glue himself to Bakura’s hip for the rest of the night.
Taking a deep breath, he crawls over to him, slipping inside the quilt as well. He baffles the other as he snuggles to his side and makes himself comfortable next to him, using his chest as a pillow.
Bakura’s brows raise. “You really that cold?”
“Yeah, a bit,” Malik mutters, averting his eyes as he looks at the sunset. The sight is spellbinding yet it makes him sigh sadly. “It’s so beautiful.”
Bakura places a protective arm over Malik’s shoulder, his eyes moving to the panorama. He inspects it for a few seconds. The last sun streams reflect into his pupils. “You think so?”
Malik blinks. “You don’t?” His chin rests on Bakura’s chest, looking back at him. “I never heard anyone say the sunset isn’t beautiful.”
“Well,” Bakura shrugs, his eyes fixed on the subject matter. “It is beautiful, yes, but I mean…” he shrugs again, “It’s just… there.”
“Maybe there was a time when you enjoyed panoramas much more.” Malik ponders. “Also because Egypt offers an even more spectacular sight than that.”
His words make Bakura’s skin tingle as they cause a warm feeling to bloom inside his chest. A nostalgic, warm feeling. Like he spoke from a very distant memory.
“I think it’s also sad,” Malik whispers and is back on placing his cheek on Bakura’s chest, glancing at the last traces of orange and pink painting the distant clouds on the darkening, sapphire sky.
“What is…?” Bakura’s voice is very soft.
“The sunset…” Malik sighs. “It’s like light can’t be here forever.” He shifts gently around. “I’ve been thought to see it as the beginning of Ra’s journey through the 12 kingdoms of night.”
Bakura blinks softly as Malik’s words keep making that fluttery feeling go through his stomach. “What…”
“You know,” Malik starts, resting his chin back on Bakura’s chest as he starts tracing with his finger on it, “he travels 12 kingdoms in the sky during the day and then another 12 in the underworld during the night.” While he says so he draws a circle on Bakura’s chest. “He makes his journey on a holy barque so that's why it's seen like a river loop. And in the point where it intersects with the Nile forms the horizon. Akhet .”
Bakura’s eyes are fixed on the darkening panorama, but he frowns at Malik’s last word. “Eh… what?”
“Akhet,” Malik repeats as he keeps retracing the circle with his finger. “The hieroglyph.” He draws a rectangle over the circle that has its upper side overlapping with the circle’s diameter in the centre. “The place in the sky where the sun rises.”
Bakura looks down at his chest as if Malik just drew the hieroglyph right there with a pen. “This is the sign for sunrise?”
“Horizon, more specifically,” Malik continues, and then he motions to the sunset. “If you look at it, it quite resembles a circle sinking into a square, don’t you think?”
Bakura looks back at the disappearing sun and nods, his voice dropping low again as he sinks into that warm feeling he keeps sensing. “Akhet…”
“And on the horizon,” Malik continues as he traces over the two upper angles he drew of the rectangle, “is where Ra starts his descent in the underworld, through the two mountains at each pole. Manu in the west and Bakhu in the east.”
Bakura’s hair horns rise up. “Did you say Baku?”
“Bakhu! ” Malik laughs and corrects him. He rests his cheek on Bakura’s chest, looking at him with a fond smile. “But it’s quite funny how similar they are…”
A smirk shapes unwillingly on Bakura’s face as he looks down at him. “And Ra has to climb over that mountain, you said?”
“Yeah, it’s the last step of his journey.” Malik keeps his eyes fixed on Bakura’s face, trying to distract his mind from noticing how it’s slowly getting darker around them. “Through the Manu mountains it starts and through the Bakhu it ends. And then it’s finally daytime again.”
Bakura keeps grinning as he mulls over it in his head. “So you’re saying the Bakhu mountains are some kind of hindrance for Ra?”
“Yeah, of course.” Malik shrugs, “Each step of the journey in the underworld is like a hindrance because he’s working his way back again to bring sunlight. And the mountains are part of that.”
A soft chuckle bubbles in Bakura’s chest, making Malik feel its quivers. “Nice, nice… I’m glad to have a similar name to one of Ra’s obstacles!”
“Oh, come on now…” Malik rolls his eyes but can’t keep the smile off his face. He turns his head around for a second but once he sees how the sun has disappeared and how almost complete darkness engulfs them, he turns it quickly back to Bakura, grabbing at the fabric of his sweater tightly. “Um…” his body starts to shake, his mind completely shut out over what he was planning on saying.
“What’s Ra’s biggest hindrance?”
Bakura’s question brings Malik to focus on him again. Even though there’s just a dark, blue colour barely illuminating them now, he can discern how Bakura’s eyes are set towards the sky, like he’s really wondering about it.
Malik blinks. “Apophis, of course.”
Bakura wears a curious expression. “Who the fuck is that?”
“You know, the gigantic snake…” he starts, and Bakura’s eyes seem to gleam in fascination. Malik’s smile starts to tug at his lips again. “Does it ring any bells?”
“Yeah…” Bakura nods, his voice soft. He’s staring distantly at the horizon again. “Keep talking…”
“Apophis is in one of the 12 kingdoms Ra visits at night, during his journey in the underworld, and it’s, like, his main goal to destroy Ra, and his kingdom, and ma’at, and everything that builds order, really…”
“Was he powerful?”
“Yeah, he is a God. And he’s always there. Every night when Ra descends we have to pray for his uprising again. Pray for him to make the journey safely cause Apophis might risk swallowing him whole.”
Bakura starts to grin.
“Which isn’t a good thing, Habibi…” Malik pouts at him. “If he swallowed the sun we’d live in eternal darkness…”
Bakura shrugs, closing his eyes. “Sounds fine to me.”
Malik has his pout still on, his eyes moving down to where his fingers kept scribbling on Bakura’s chest. “How can you…” he starts, but then sighs and stops himself. “Anyway, we are all mourning and praying every night when Ra descends through the Manu mountains, hoping he survives and comes back again to end the night.”
“Mh…” Bakura nods, a soft smile still on his face as he’s becoming comfortably numb for that warmth in his chest caused by Malik’s words.
Malik’s eyes move to the last discernable traces of Bakura’s face in worry, as the darkness keeps taking everything away. “A-Are you falling asleep?”
“No, no…” Bakura mumbles, “just keep talking…”
Malik keeps tracing on his chest nervously, moving closer to him, “What do you want me to say?”
“Tell me about Ra’s journey,” Bakura yawns, stroking Malik’s shoulder, “but in the underworld. I wanna hear about all the dangers he faces in each hour of the night.”
Malik thinks for a bit in silence, “You mean what happens in each of the 12 kingdoms in the underworld?”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Bakura’s breathing gets deeper and Malik fears he’s going to doze off soon, leaving him alone in the darkness. But he knows there isn’t much he can do against this now, so he just clenches the fabric of his shirt in his fists, closing his eyes and listening to Bakura’s steady heartbeat as he starts talking.
“Alright… l-like I said before, Ra passes over the Manu mountains to enter the first kingdom of the underworld. He’s practically dead at that time, so the sacred apes that live on the mountain start weeping and mourning for him as he passes through with his barque… Once he arrives, there are 12 goddesses, each for every kingdom, that pick up his barque and help tow it along. The first hour is called the Watercourse of Ra, where the God Wepwawet finds him and guides the boat …”
𓈌
The sun was blaring far too bright from what he has been growing used to. A sun like that hasn't touched his skin for… a very long time. It’s hard to remember. But as his feet run on the dusty, familiar road, it all starts to get back to him.
He’s running down the road he’s always known. He knows that one by heart. Each turn and each building he passes by were memorised in his head. It all just comes automatically as he goes. Because everybody knows their way… where is he going?
The loud traders by the pub, the little corner he has been taught to pass through rather swiftly, the gathering of people by the fountain. They all feel so familiar as he runs through this village. And once he turns that one corner, he gets hit by a warmth that nothing compares. He knows where he is. Now it’s all coming back to him.
He is home.
~
“Did you scrape your knee?”
Bakura turns around. He feels ashamed.
"Come here…”
That gentle voice makes him almost feel better already. He sniffs as big tears keep trickling down his face. He wanted to hide it.
“Come on, it’s alright…”
He walks over to her.
“Does it hurt?”
The touch is just as gentle as that voice. Just as warm. He nods as he rubs one fist against his wet eyes.
Those soothing fingers are cleaning and mending his wound, rubbing some healing lotion, touching him in just the right way to make it hurt less.
“What happened?"
He stays silent for a little while. He doesn’t want anyone to know he fell. Until she crouches down in front of him.
He’s face to face with lilac, kind eyes.
“What you don’t tell no one, you can always tell me, Bakhura…”
He falls right into her warm arms, into the safest place in the world. He cries softly against her chest. “I tripped...”
She gives him the most gentle of smiles he’s ever seen. Her hands stroke his hair, rub his little shoulders, make him feel okay.
“Everybody trips sometimes…”
“Dad never trips when he climbs on the roofs!”
“Oh, believe me! He trips too.”
She laughs so warmly it makes Bakura look up at her. It feels like being warmed by the sun and all his tears are drying.
“But you climbed up a roof, Bakhura. Wow, you’re very brave.”
He smiles back at her, an undefinable happiness blooming in his chest.
“Were you scared?”
He nods and then sinks his face into her embrace again.
“Don’t worry. Mommy is here now. Nothing can ever hurt you as long as I’m here.”
~
A burst of loud, booming laughter resonates from outside, reaching inside the kitchen where Bakhura is sitting on the floor, braiding the carpet just like his mom taught him to do.
“See you tomorrow,” his father calls out to someone as he opens the entrance door and lifts up the curtain. “Well, hello there.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little too late?” His mother is kneading the yeast as she gives him a pointed stare.
“Oh, sunshine, don’t be like that.” He jokes, a dimpled smile forming on his face as he’s hugging her from behind, giving her a kiss on the temple.
“Hmph, that’s what you say every evening,” she counters, “but then you-” as he pulls away she interrupts herself with a gasp as he sneakily ties a golden necklace around her neck. “Oh my Gods, it’s gorgeous!”
“You like it, eh?” He chuckles before he senses someone tugging at his shenti from below. It’s his son calling for his attention.
“And for me? And for me?!” Bakhura stretches his grabby hands at him.
“For you, my little beetle,” He crouches down and takes the little Bakhura in his grip, rummaging in his pocket and taking out a golden scarab. “another beetle!”
Bakhura beams and starts laughing, holding the golden artefact tight in his hands. “I can add it to my family of beetles!”
His mother approaches them with a worried hand placed on her chin. “But I don’t know, love…” she says, gripping her necklace. “Maybe it’s better if you melt them. They can’t see us with this much gold.”
“Nah, don’t worry,” His father scoffs, still holding Bakhura in his grip as he strokes her hair softly. “It looks too good on you to be melted. But I have to say I have a feeling the guards have been doing more turns lately.” He turns his face to the window with a worried expression. “I saw some troops gathering just a few hours ago.”
She looks at Bakhura and then pointedly at him. “Tuck him to bed first, then we can talk.” And moves back to carry on baking.
“Alright,” he sighs, “let’s take the little beetle to sleep.”
He tickles him as they move behind a larger tent, where Bakhura’s small, cosy resting place is. Bakhura keeps laughing until he’s placed neatly under a bundle of linen sheets.
His father smirks down at him. “Where’s your little beetle?”
“Here!” Bakhura holds it proudly out to him.
“Good boy,” He smiles and ruffles his hair.
A pensive expression falls over the child, looking down at the golden artefact. “Why is mommy so worried?”
“You know how mommy is,” he rolls his eyes comedically, “always worried about everything.”
He pulls a funny face and makes his kid laugh, who’s looking back at him with gleaming eyes. “Are we safe here?”
“Let me tell you a secret,” he leans further down to him, his voice lowering to a whisper, “as long as we have you, we are always safe.”
Bakhura gasps excitedly. “Really?”
“Yes, my joy.” He keeps stroking his hair, the dimpled smile unmoving on his face. “You’re the mountains that bring the sunrise. You are our light. There’s nothing more powerful than you!”
Bakhura smiles excitedly at him, giggling as his father leans down and nuzzles his nose.
“Alright? Now sleep tight to gather your energies.”
He’s about to stand up when Bakhura holds him back by his arm. “Can you- can you sing me the lullaby for Ra’s journey?”
“Ehh… honey?” He calls out to Bakhura’s mother in the kitchen. “I need your voice, dear.”
While towelling her hands she enters the little room with a smile. “What is it? You wanna hear Ra’s journey again?”
“Yes! Yes!” Bakhura cries excitedly, "From Manu to Bakhu!"
She crouches down next to them, “Then I guess you’re right. Otherwise he’s just gonna have nightmares if you sing,” she pats his lover gently on the back. But Bakhura’s father is too distracted leaning his head back to look at the window to listen to her joke.
“What’s all that noise outside?” He wonders before a brisk slam of the entrance’s door disrupts the peace and quiet, tearing his home apart.
And Bakura opens his eyes.
𓈌
He blinks in confusion, in the darkness.
He can’t manage to gather his emotions. They are all over the place like a whirlwind just passed through his chest. He’s panting and looking around him, his heart beating a mile every second.
It's too dark to make out much but he senses someone trembling on his chest. It’s Malik, who has his face hidden but he’s speaking, something in a muffled, tight voice. And it's a different language. Bakura feels like he could have discerned it just a few seconds ago but now it’s fading away. The meaning and its sense are slowly fading into nothingness. Just like his memories, the pictures of his parents in his head, the warm embrace-
“No no no! ” Bakura screams as he sits up, his hands grasping at his hair.
Malik gasps in pure fear as he realises Bakura woke up. “B-Bakura!” His voice is too brittle, shaking in fear. “You’re awake! You scared me!”
“Just a little longer,” Bakura’s hands sink to his face, his voice muffled and rough. “Just a bit longer, please…”
Malik can’t recognise much in the darkness but he can see how Bakura is crouching in himself as his body trembles. “Habibi?” He asks worriedly, his hand moving to his shoulder, “Bakura, what is it? What’s going on?”
“My parents,” the other sobs, “they were with me! I can sense it!” He removes his hands from his face as his voice gets clearer, still shaking. “They are f-fading away now, but they were here! I know it! I felt it- it- it was so strong!”
“You dreamed your parents?” Malik gasps softly as his grip on his shoulder tightens, moving closer to him. It’s far too dark to make out anything, only soft traces of the clouded moonlight shapes their frames. But it’s only thanks to Bakura’s voice and his body's warmth that Malik knows he’s here. He can’t even see if he’s crying.
“They were laughing, we were-” his voice breaks and he coughs, his hands moving back to his head. “We were finally together again, but it ended bad, and I wanna be there again! Just a little more!” He laments like a child. “I wanna go back, Malik! I don’t want them to be gone-”
“Bakura,” Malik cries his name softly. It’s rare to catch him in such a vulnerable and emotional state. It confuses Malik. He doesn’t know what to do. His body is still trembling for his own fears, he was just fighting against his own demons, but he puts it all aside for Bakura. He just holds him tighter to him, hugging him until he has his head pressed against his chest. “Bakura, listen to me… It's all good now…”
“Nothing is good! They died!” Bakura screams but lets himself be hugged. He slams a fist against Malik's chest, making the other wince but not yield in his tight clutch. "They died and I never saved them! I should have saved them, Malik! I wasn't brave enough!”
“Shh, Bakura!” Not even his fear of the dark could pierce through the pain he feels in hearing Bakura talk like that. He never realised how much of an open, bleeding wound it is. “Listen to me, Habibi. It was a dream, it’s all over now, I-” Every word he says sounds ridiculous against the painful truth. They sound useless and ineffective. “I-”
“It felt so warm,” Bakura’s muffled voice speaks against him. “Her embrace felt so real and so warm-” his voice cracks, “I forgot what it felt like…”
Malik feels his own lower lip tremble as he hears him talk, unable to speak a word.
“It’s too far away, it’s all so far gone…” The tremble in his voice sinks to an angry growl again. “I thought I was over it… I thought it won’t hurt me anymore…”
Malik tightens his hold on him, kissing the top of his head. “It’s okay, Habibi, it takes time… We always think it’s over but… it takes more than a lifetime…”
“It’s just not fair-” And by the way Bakura sobs and grips Malik’s sweater so tightly, he understands, he’s crying. “It hurts…”
“I’m here now, Bakura. I’m here for you,” He strokes his hair softly, holding him impossibly tighter in his arms. “I will take care of you, okay? It will be good again.”
Bakura breathes against Malik and he can feel how he calms down, his breath becoming more even, his hold softening.
“You don’t need to be brave, Habibi” Malik sobs, his hand restlessly running through his hair, “I’m here for you. Hold my hand.”
And Bakura does as Malik tells him, gripping the hand he slipped between them. “It hurts…” he repeats softly, his voice so broken and sleepy.
“Shh…” Malik’s voice is as soft as ever, his thumb rubbing against his knuckles. “Sleep, Habibi. I will be here to take care of things.” His own voice trembles but nothing matters but to hear Bakura’s breath calming down now. “When you wake up everything will be good again. I will be brave for you.”
And while the night still scares him, while he still trembles in fear, he starts singing an old, soft lullaby he knows for Bakura. The lullaby of Ra’s travelling through the underworld. Praying for Ra to rise over the Bakhu mountains, to make it out of this unending tunnel of darkness and sufferance, for the sun to enter in their lives again, and for the pain to end.
Until the sunrise reaches them.