Melvin opened his eyes after Ryou had closed the door to his room. There was a big, silly grin on his face as he pulled his pillow closer to himself.

"He even tucked me in." He said, feeling warm and fuzzy and happy.

No one had ever tucked him in before; it just felt nice to know that someone didn't want you to go cold as you slept.

Ryou was obviously suspicious about the tea, but surprisingly he didn't accuse him for the safety pins on the curtains, nor the hidden alarm clock.
He probably didn't even notice that the carton of milk in the fridge was empty. That was Melvin's greatest calcium intake in his entire life.

Still, more damage was to be done. That was his only motivation for the day; the only reason he would get out of bed.
Ryou didn't really do anything to "deserve" it, , but then again, no one ever "deserves" anything that happens to them. Shit happens to everyone, so deal with it.

Melvin did eventually get out of bed. When he did, he still felt warmth at his chest and couldn't help but feel like something in the back of his mind didn't want him to continue. Something told him that he should just lounge in bed all day instead.

As pleasant as that sounded, he remembered that this bed wasn't his, nor was the food his own, nor the apartment he was staying at. It all belonged to Ryou, and if he were to get comfortable here, then Ryou would grow more attached to him, and soon enough he would see sides of him that he had hidden away.

He'd rather have Ryou attached to the reins in his hands, and be under his control.

And how would he do that?

By eating everything in the fridge.

***

Melvin lay on the couch with the worst headache and intolerable nausea. Not only did he drink every single raw egg in the carton (due to the fact that he had no idea how to properly cook eggs), he ate containers of food that he wasn't sure how long they'd been there.

He clutched his stomach tightly and wondered if he could just vomit on the floor. It would be asshole-y, right?
Yes. Yes it would.
But a little too much.

Instead, Melvin just got up and hugged the toilet for about ten minutes.
After vomiting everything his stomach held, he lay on the cold floor, feeling miserable.

This was one of the few times where Melvin actually asked himself, "Why did/would I do something like that?"

He had no idea if Ryou had any medicines he might've needed or where they would've been. Hell, his hair was dropping and he was lost without his cape. He missed his apartment and everything in it-- even if it was just a cleaned out, lemon-scented den.

Melvin forced himself to get up off the floor and walk it off. He had this sudden determination to at least get back the access to his own place. He missed his cape and his gel and his weapons.

He needed to go find Bakura and get his stuff back.

In the kitchen, under all the empty cartons and dirty containers were the keys and phone that Ryou had left him. It was just a stupid and naive act of "trust". Melvin just snagged them and shoved them into his pocket.

With a quick glance out the window, he saw some clouds in the sky that were friendlier than before, but weren't exactly rainless.
It didn't matter. Rain washed away evidence.

For a moment, he thought about calling Ryou and telling him where he was going. He wasn't sure exactly where he was going-- much less did he know where Bakura lived. It was most likely that Marik would force him out of bed and they would go on some wacky adventure. At least that's what the fanfics said, anyways.
That would mean they could be anywhere in the city.

He wasn't going to call Ryou. There wasn't anything to be discussed.

A glass of water settled his stomach for a moment, then he locked the door behind him on the way out. Melvin felt lightheaded, and nauseous again. The raw eggs might've had something to do with it, but for the most part he just felt uneasy. 

Would Bakura still feel indifferent about him?
He never cared in the first place. Why would he now?

Next thing Melvin knew, he was in the park, wandering around. He stayed in the more wooded area, surrounded by trees and bushes so that he could remain unseen.

He was right about Marik dragging Bakura out. He heard Marik saying the name "Florence" and then some rambling about how foxes in boxes or whatever it was.

Then Bakura would say, " You're a bloody imbecile."

Marik and Bakura had continued to talk about whatever until they stopped, feeling an eerie silence around them in the middle of the day. They looked around, seeing that parents had grabbed their children's hands, taking them out of the park.

"Seriously, how rude are people?" Marik scoffed. "I'm not even gay!"
More silence, and Marik looked at Bakura. "What, you've got nothing to say?"

"Marik." His words were curt and his voice quiet. "Get behind me."

Marik finally turned to see what he was looking at, and didn't hesitate to move from his spot.

Against the trees stood Melvin, twirling a knife in his hands. A psychotic grin was plastered onto his face.
"Been a while, Florence."

"...It's been two days."

"Two days too many." As Melvin approached them, Marik's grip on Bakura's shoulders tightened. Melvin continued, hiding his repulsion, with, "I want my stuff."

"Your stuff?"

"My phone. My keys. You have them."

Bakura wanted to cross his arms, but he hadn't a clue whether or not Melvin would attack him or something. It was two against one, but for some reason he felt like even though Melvin was unevenly matched, he could take them both on and still win, no sweat.

He had no idea why, though.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Melvin wanted to hit him. "They're in your car."

Now he crossed his arms. "What about my stuff?"

"Your stuff?"

"You owe me." Bakura smirked. "You owe me a lot."

"Don't turn this on me. I can't even get into my apartment, let alone get to my wallet."

Before Bakura could acknowledge the point, he looked again at the knife in Melvin's hand. "Is that a kitchen knife?"

Melvin stopped smiling. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Your knife. It's a kitchen knife."

"You said that already."

"I thought you couldn't get into your apartment." He looked up at him. "Where have you been?"

"Why do you care?"

Bakura knitted his brows. "Well, if you're already somewhere, do you really need your stuff?"

"To pay you, yes."

"Where have you been?"

Melvin took a step closer and Bakura involuntarily stepped back. "Give me my stuff."

"Where?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just tell me."

Then Melvin grinned. "I tell you where I live, and I also tell Marik about what we've been doing."

That shut him up.

Bakura growled, knowing that he'd have to put up with a lot soon. "They're at my apartment. I'll take you."

Obnoxiously, Melvin ruffled his hair. "There's a good kitty."