Heavy subject matter in this chapter. Trigger warning to anyone sensitive to subjects surrounding death and loss.

Around two in the morning, Ryou boiled water in a pot. Steam erupted from the spout while he looked for a tea that would comfort Bakura's companion.

The poor bloke seemed pretty shaken up about something Ryou felt in no place to ask about. Bakura did promise an explanation, at least.

Marik sat on the couch, staring at the TV screen that played nothing but static. Bakura had treated him to a blanket around his shoulders and a stuffed bear that Ryou had in one of his boxes he'd yet to unpack.

Ishizu had called him sometime around 1, 1:30. Bakura hung up the first time, not recognizing the number. Then Marik's phone called, and Ishizu was in hysterics, pleading for Bakura to look after Marik. Then Bakura asked why.

"Do you want me to put something on? We can watch Netflix, or pull up a DVD?" Bakura had no idea what to do or say.

Marik just nodded, reaching for Bakura's hand. He let him hold it, and he squeezed as tight as he could.

Ryou stood in the doorway, watching Marik curl onto Bakura's shoulder and breathing heavily. A brief, guilty pang of envy rose up in him, but he brushed it off and entered the living room with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"I made you chamomile. It'll help with stress, and with sleep." Ryou set the tray before them on the coffee table, then pointed to the biscuits. "I added a treat, I thought..."

He looked up, seeing Marik completely inattentive to his words as he lay in Bakura's comforting arms, his head rested on his shoulder.

"...I'll leave, don't want to disturb you both."

Then he got up and retreated to his room, unsure of what else to do or say.

Bakura didn't have much to say, either. He rubbed Marik's back, stroked his hair, any gesture he could think of that was relatively calming. Every gesture was foreign to his muscle memory, but he plowed through, for Marik's sake.

Marik could not find it within himself to cry. His throat hurt too much to speak, his stomach was too empty to vomit again. That image, his father on the ground, and...so much...blood...

"Do you want some tea?" Bakura picked up the mug for him, sniffing it--- he was rather fond of chamomile, its scent alone granting some relief. "You don't have to drink it all."

"I'm not thirsty."

Bakura set the mug down. "Alright. Do you want me to put something on the telly?"

Marik broke from him for a moment to glare at him. "The what?"

"Telly. You know, the television."

"Oh. Why can't you say 'TV' like a normal person?"

"Excuse me?" Bakura figured a light argument could take his mind off of things. "It's a telly, just as chips are chips."

"Again with the chips? They are fries and I thought we agreed on that!"

"We did not agree! I certainly would not agree to such uncanny conditions."

"I declared it final, so it became final."

Bakura took on of the biscuits and munched on it bitterly. Marik half laughed, and the energy died, soon letting the quiet remind him where he was and what had happened.

A moment or so passed. Marik did not stare blankly at anything, but his eyes glossed the room with little thought.

"Ishizu said a million times, she saw this coming," Marik's words hid like a child beneath a blanket. "I didn't believe her. I don't even believe it now."

"Marik, no one could have seen it coming. You certainly shouldn't blame yourself."

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch cushion, adjusting himself again and again until he gave up, flopping back into Bakura's arms again. "Melvin was never a real threat. He was all talk. All talk, all the time. I didn't think--- there was no way. He would never...I didn't think he'd ever..." He didn't want to close his eyes. He didn't want the scene to replay anymore.
"The other day...it could've been you..." he whimpered into Bakura's shirt. "This is so fucking messed up...I...shit...fuck!"

"Take it easy," Ishizu had told Bakura that Marik threw up twice already, so Bakura was hesitant to push him too far or even be too near. "You're here now, we're safe. Melvin won't find you here."

"That's not what I'm worried about at all! He's still out there, Bakura. For all I know, you're next! Or Ishizu! Or Odion!" he pulled Bakura to himself even tighter, not letting go. Not once blinking. "I don't care what happens to him. I just want him found and...!"

Bakura felt Marik's tension stop, catching him as he crumbled.

"...killed, for all I care."

"Marik?"

He hid his face. "To think...I even pitied him."

Bakura chewed on his lip, unsure of what to say. This entire situation unfolded, sticky with complications and the fine line of good and bad. Soon it would be lawsuits and confessions, and Bakura would find himself caught in the crossfire. He would have to pick a side. Right now, that side looked obvious.

Since when did Melvin really have it in him? To kill?

"There's not going to be anything done unless you guys take this to court, and in order to do that they have to find Melvin." it was already playing out in his head: Melvin was likely hiding somewhere, perhaps an alley, or a dark corner of the park. Behind trees, veiled in shadow. Bloody. Trembling. "Once they do, they'll arrest him. You might have to testify against him."

"I don't know what that means, but if it means seeing him again, then count me out."

Bakura frowned. "It means that you'll have to get a lawyer, and tell that lawyer why you want him imprisoned. Then, with evidence and convincing a jury, the judge will decide what to do with him."

"Court? Lawyers?" Marik lifted his head, his expression littered with disbelief. "Bakura, my father is dead. What is there to prove? What is there to even discuss?"

"I'm just telling you how it is, Marik. If you want him punished, this is what has to happen. All the cops have are a body and the word of three people to go off of, that's not enough evidence against Melvin specifically. They can't even arrest him without putting him at the scene of the crime, time of death---"

"Bakura! Shut up!"

Marik broke from him, crossing his arms and turning away, facing the window and the early morning sky.

"I don't care what they have to do, Melvin was there that night! He stabbed him! There was blood all over him, all over the floor..." he clutched the sofa, taking control over his breathing so he wouldn't hurl on Bakura's carpet.

Bakura moved to him to rub his back. "Really, have some tea. Try to rest some before you go on some sort of tangent, alright?"

Marik took the mug and sipped, the tea's scent alone easing him some, but not by a lot. His hands quaked as he admitted, through a whisper, "He's...he's still out there, Bakura...I'm scared."

Bakura's lips pressed on the top of his head. "Don't be, Melvin doesn't know about this place. He would never think to find you here."

"Okay," he breathed. He sipped. He nodded. "Okay."

"You can sleep in my bed, just lie down at least. Ryou is in the next room, just in case you need anything from him at all. He's really nice, ask him for anything and he'll figure it out for you."

Marik looked at him, up and down. "Are you leaving me here?"

"Your sister wanted me to call her once you were settled, she promised me more details." he fibbed. "You don't have to worry, we're all going to sort this out."

Bakura was soon greeted with Marik's tight embrace, squeezing his torso with all the strength he could muster. "Be careful."

"I will."

***

Once Marik had settled himself in Bakura's bed, Bakura crept into the hallway outside his apartment room and briskly descended the stairs to find Melvin. His thoughts zipped around his head, deafening him to the thoughts of anything else.

He knocked on the door of the apartment below him, loud enough for neighbors to hear and not nearly quiet enough for any mind to them. "Melvin, its me. Open up!"

He waited for the door to open, tapping his foot while adrenaline pumped through his veins with urgency. A moment or so passed by until he knocked again. "Melvin! You can't afford to start ignoring me!" He pressed an ear to the door only to find the white noise of air conditioning.

Bakura pulled out his phone and called him. He already had a feeling that Melvin wouldn't answer, considering he might've been hiding. But sure enough, his phone rang inside the apartment, ringing and vibrating on the counter. He didn't hear any other movement until it went to voicemail.

"Damn you, Melvin!"

Picking a lock felt as simple as walking; Bakura learned it very young and exercised that skill often enough where he wouldn't forget it. He plucked a pin from his hair and pried open Melvin's door. The apartment was dark and cold, uninhabited and vacant.

"Mel? Where are you?" To an extent, Bakura did not want to find him. Would he have to take him on again in case Melvin decided to attack? He kept his knife in his pocket, his grip on its handle only tightening with every step into the darkness. "It's me, Bakura. I heard about what happened."

Still no response. Was Melvin even home?

"You don't have to hide from me, Mel. I'm not going to turn you in. Just talk to me."

His cheap apartment consisted of two real rooms; one was a kitchen and living room conjoined, the other a bedroom. A small bathroom attached to it, but that was all the rooms, maximum. There weren't a lot of places to hide.

Bakura checked the kitchen/living area, finding only Melvin's phone on the counter. He proceeded cautiously into the bedroom, flipping on the light to undone bed sheets and an empty bathroom. The closet didn't even have clothes inside, much less a person.

The treehouse.

Bakura wish that occurred to him sooner. For all he knew, Melvin was already caught and turned in. He couldn't imagine the guy in jail, but he could imagine him resisting arrest and worsening his situation entirely. Although, he wasn't certain how much worse things could possibly get.

***

The ladder to the tree was gone, and the trap door was shut tight. Bakura looked up, trying to get a glimpse into the window of it. He didn't see anyone inside, but he knew in his gut that Melvin was up there.

"Mel!" he whispered with the support of a yell. "Melvin!"

At first, he received no response, until suddenly he saw someone peering out of the window corner. The silhouette of his hair was an instant giveaway.

"Let me up!"

Melvin disappeared again, but the sound of wood shifting was all the consent Bakura needed to start climbing up the tree. He crawled through the top, grunting as he pulled himself up. Melvin offered no support as he was too busy fitting a rope around his neck that he had tied to one of the upper branches.

Is that a fucking noose?

Bakura scrambled to get to him, his hurriedness sloppy as he fell onto his hands and knees and reached out, trying to get to his feet and run to him all at once.

"I—" Melvin's words didn't come out.

Bakura was already grabbing at his ankle from the floor, pulling himself up to pull Melvin away from the rope before he could tie a fatal knot. "What the hell, Melvin? What—what's gotten into you?!"

His mind went blank despite it having been crowded a second ago. Melvin didn't realize he was already reaching around Bakura's body, a tight embrace he wouldn't have dared otherwise. It was all he wanted, now. All he could think about.

"Mel..." Bakura let him have it— he wasn't about to push him away right now. But he didn't hug him back. He wanted to console him. To reprimand him. To cry with him. To try and relate. Nothing would work, there was nothing to say. Would Ryou even know what to do?

"You mind telling me what happened?"

Melvin's face was hidden to Bakura's view, just behind his shoulder. "Did Marik tell you?"

"Marik can hardly think right now, much less tell me anything."

"You had to find out, no other way you would've come for me."

Bakura didn't want to tell him what Ishizu had said, he wanted Melvin's untailored perspective on the situation at hand. He also didn't want Melvin to think he was taking anyone's side. "I tried to call you but you didn't answer. And your apartment door was locked."

Melvin's deductive skills weren't at their prime. He couldn't think straight, not enough to debunk Bakura's story. He looked down, blood on his shirt and his shoes, some under his fingernails.

WHATHAVEIDONEWHATHAVEIDONEWHATHAVEIDONE

The veins in his face pulsing, throbbing, blood rushing through every part of his body, he clutched his head and tumbled to the floor.

OHRAMYHEADHURTSITHURTSSOMUCHSOMEONEMAKEITSTOPMAKEITSTOPPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE

"Look at me, Mel," Bakura dripped to his knees to match his level, although Melvin was already in a tight ball on the floor.
"I'm here, I'm not going to hurt you.I just want to know what happened."

"No, no! I only made it worse for them! I only made everything worse!"

"What? What did you make worse?"

"I...! Oh Ra, I fucked up! I fucked it all up and I thought I was doing something right! I thought they were gonna finally love me!"

"Who? Your family?"

"I don't have a family, dumbass!" Melvin spat poison at him, only to shrink into himself as his migraine grew more intense. "I never...I never did..."

"Melvin, what did you do?"

His head popped up, a jack in a box triggered by so much internal pain. "I cut him from my life! Just like you said!"

Bakura's face drained of its color.

"He was abusive to me— to all of us. His children never saw eye to eye but we all hated him! I knew what I had to do, and I was the only one with the balls to follow through."

"I saw him coming home from work, so I followed him in. When he saw me, he told me to leave and when I didn't, he told me I was a mistake. I wasn't afraid anymore, Bakura, because I knew what I would do if he tried to hurt me. And when he tried to hurt me, I threatened him. He— he laughed at me, Bakura! He told me..." Melvin's eyes looked nowhere at all. "He said, 'Are you going to kill me just like you killed your mother?'"

There was a pause while Melvin fidgeted with his fingers, staring directly ahead while his head hurt and his stomach tightened.

Bakura backed away in case he would try and reenact it.

"Unfortunately for him I don't remember how I did it. So I grabbed the knife from the rack on the counter..." An unsettling sneer stretched across his mouth. "...and I stabbed him—I stabbed him for every lashing, every insult, every glare and frown and every time he blamed Mom's death on me!"

"And for the first time in my life, I felt...free." He laughed some; a chuckle that emerged from his insanity and crept up his throat. "I felt like I could do anything— I could take over the world, if I wanted to!"

Bakura's hands kept still in his pockets, clutching his pocketknife that Melvin knew was there. He tried to keep calm but, this was a Melvin he'd never seen. A Melvin that was bred from all the pain and guilt he had no choice but to face alone.

"Funny," Bakura said, trying to sound smug. In reality he was terrified. "For a second I thought you were upset about this story."

Melvin laughed again, letting his aching head fall back and hit the wall. "I thought they were finally going to take me in. I was gonna be a part of that family."

"Naturally, murder is the way to form a familial bond."

"Bakura, shut up." His darkened eyes shot him a glance, both pleading and apologetic. Pathetic. Bakura bit his tongue.
"I didn't even see Ishizu there, not until she was screaming. And then Odion was pushing her away from me, and Marik threw up right on the floor."

Melvin sank in his spot, his eyes lifted to the branches that twisted and stretched over his head. He watched the abandoned rope gently swing.

"There isn't anything left to do. I might as well die."

Bakura had no idea what else to say. Of course Melvin didn't deserve to die, not even now. But fixing this would take a miracle that neither of them had enough karma to have. Bakura couldn't tell him his family would miss him, and there wasn't much else he'd be leaving behind.

Melvin looked at Bakura expectantly, hoping he would say something. Wishing he would say something. He wanted Bakura to assure him somehow.

"When I said, 'cut out toxic people in your life', I meant you forget them. I meant you take up some sort of hobby— baking, knitting, or drawing—" he tried to contain his frustration. "—not to kill your fucking dad!"

"How was I supposed to know what you meant?" Melvin shot back instantly, and felt stupid in that same amount of time.
"When you said it, it just kind of...clicked. I knew what had to be done, and I did it. I thought following your gut was what you're supposed to do?"

"Well, your gut is a moron—!" Bakura stopped and asked, "Wait...what did you just say?"

"I was following my gut."

"No, before that. What about it clicked?"

Melvin could feel Bakura's eyes on him, now they were unwelcoming and he wanted to be alone. And he didn't at the same time.
"It had to be done."

"Had to?" Bakura's face twisted in disgust, confusion, and so many other things that he wished he grabbed a coffee on the way out. "Melvin...do you regret what you did?"

"HA!" A boisterous laugh erupted from the core of his being. "Are you kidding?! That man beat me for existing. I hope he's crammed in a boiler room in hell, for all I care—!"

Bakura grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to his feet, pinning him to the wall. "You need to shut up, right now."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"You need to tell everyone this was a mistake. You weren't in your right mind. Tell them that you loved him and that you wish you never had to lay a hand on him."

Bakura looked right through him, his focus on a picture that Melvin was too naive and uneducated to see.

"It's bad enough that you run, your family saw you doing it..."

"They didn't see me do it. They just saw the knife in my hand."

"And the knife had blood on it, and you said you 'fixed it'. You really fucked yourself over, Mel."

"Bakura?" He didn't like Bakura's tight hold of his shirt. He didn't like the look in his eye. He didn't like his tone of voice. He didn't like his expression. "...what's gonna happen to me?"

"I..." Melvin was a child. The body of a young man, but a child nonetheless. His eyes, glossy with fresh tears, didn't break their gaze from Bakura's.
"I don't know, Mel. That's why I'm here."

Melvin nodded. That answer was enough to settle him for a moment.

"You're going to have to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he let go of him, taking his hand tight in his own. "First, you need to turn yourself in."