Hey guys! Here's the new chapter.

CW: Hints towards Malik's father, familial victim blaming/gaslighting. 

The next morning, Mehi did her best to be quiet. She crept out of the bedroom at ten to six, prayer mat under her arm. She tripped over a pair of shoes, but caught herself and yawned as she traipsed towards the kitchen. Summer was a bitch for the fajr.

She ran a hand through her hair, and it stuck up as though she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket. She hated when it did that.

She turned on the coffee pot as she rolled out her prayer mat and took a breath. Her eyes fell closed and she murmured verses from the Qur'an under her breath. "By the dawn and ten nights and the even and the odd-"

It was short – she never had the will to do a very long fajr. Not when her coffee was waiting. Once she had finished the two ra'kah, she rolled up her prayer mat and pulled open the cupboard, promptly smacking her forehead against the door.

She cursed and took down a mug, rubbing her head. Hopefully it wouldn't bruise.

"You okay?"

She glanced up at the doorway and yanked a tea towel over her head as Malik walked into the kitchen. "Yeah, sorry."

"Oh, sorry, I thought you had your shayla." Malik quickly looked away from her.

Mehi shook her head. "It's fine – not your fault." She had half forgotten that he was there. "I'm just- I'll just go get it. There's coffee if you drink it."

"Thanks." He kept his head down until Mehi left the kitchen. She ducked into the bathroom and pulled off the towel. She glanced at her chin. Good. The electrolysis seemed to be working.

May as well actually shower while she was in the bathroom- nah, her coffee would get cold. She looped her shayla around her neck, crossed it, and pulled it over her hair.

When she got back to the kitchen, Malik was pouring coffee into a mug for her. "I wasn't sure what you took in it-"

"Black is perfect." She took the cup and drained half of it, ignoring the burn in her throat.

Malik raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his own coffee before grimacing at the heat. "Sorry about earlier."

"You're fine," Mehi assured him. "I should have known you'd be up."

Malik glanced down at his cup. One or two coffee grounds floated in the mixture. "I, uh... I wasn't. I only woke up when I heard you hit your head."

Mehi blinked a few times. "You don't do the fajr?"

"I only did Friday prayer because Isis made me." Malik shrugged.

Mehi nodded and took a smaller mouthful of coffee. "Do you still believe in Allah?"

After a moment, Malik glanced at her. "I think so. I mean, I don't really believe that there's nothing. But... I just can't really pray anymore."

"Because of Isis?"

He shook his head. "No, my-" His throat closed up. "It's not really important."

After a moment, Mehi nodded. "If you're sure." She finished off her coffee. "I need to go to the gym, but I'll be back for breakfast. Feel free to steal a book or watch TV."

Malik mumbled a quiet word of thanks but didn't move until Mehi trudged towards the bathroom to get ready.

In fact, he didn't move until ten minutes later when she emerged in her tracksuit and hijab, and left the apartment. He closed his eyes and slipped back onto the couch, still holding his empty cup.

He must have fallen asleep at some stage, even though he didn't remember it, because one moment he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was bright, and Bakura was cooking. His heart was pounding and blood swam in the forefront of his mind, but all memory of the nightmare he must have had was gone within seconds.

Malik groaned and rubbed his face as he sat up. Bakura glanced back at him. "Hey. You can take the shower when Ryou's done if you want."

Malik staggered to his feet and walked to the kitchen. "I'm okay for the moment. I took one last night."

"Well then you sweat a lot in your sleep because I can smell you from here – you're taking the shower after him." Bakura stirred whatever was in the pan.

Malik folded his arms. "What are you making?"

"Eggs, toast, protein shake for Mehi, bacon for Ryou." Bakura glanced at him. "Anything there that you don't eat?"

"I'm vegan," he admitted.

"I can make porridge if you want?"

"Okay... Thanks..." He watched the other man fetch the bag of porridge mix from the press. "Why are you being so nice? Not that I'm complaining, but you're an ass."

Bakura scoffed. "Gee, thanks." He flicked hair out of his eyes. "Well Ryou and Mehi aren't making me, if that's what you're thinking."

"I wasn't until you said that."

"I just think you've had enough assholes to deal with recently," he continued, as though Malik had never spoken. "I don't need to add to their shittiness."

Malik snorted and leaned on the counter. "Thanks," he mumbled, "but it's kind of weird. You can stop."

"You sure?" Malik nodded. "Thank God." Bakura grinned and shoved the porridge at him. "Make your own damn breakfast."

Malik rolled his eyes but grinned and poured some of the mixture into a bowl with almond milk. He set it in the microwave and turned it on for two minutes. "I'll shower after breakfast."

"At least slap on some deodorant or something." Bakura wrinkled his nose.

"Oh come on – I'm not that bad."

"Dude, you kind of are."

Malik rolled his eyes but dug around in his bag until he found a can of Axe. He made a show of spraying it, and even pulled on a fresh shirt. It kind of eased the uncomfortable heat under his old t-shirt anyway. He could never get accustomed to high summer temperatures. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Bakura pulled his hair back into a ponytail and dumped four spoons of sugar into a mug, followed by half a cup of coffee, and filled the rest with milk.

Malik stared at the cup. "That's an actual travesty."

"Oh, trust me, I know." Bakura shook his head and carried the cup to the bathroom. He reached the door just as Ryou emerged, rubbing his eyes, hair still damp.

Ryou took the cup and gave him a groggy smile. "Thanks, Bakura." The other grunted and went back to cooking. Ryou wandered over to Malik. "Hey. Did you sleep okay?"

Malik nodded. "Yeah. Sorry I slept for so long."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Ryou shook his head and took a sip of the coffee. He grimaced and proceeded to add another spoon of sugar.

"Seriously, Ryou?" Bakura groaned.

"I don't judge you when you cheat. Don't judge my eating habits." Ryou took another sip and smiled at Malik. "What do you want to do?"

Malik hesitated and shook his head. "I..."

"I'm cooking," Bakura called back, "so whatever it is can wait until after breakfast."

Malik's shoulders dropped the tension he didn't know they had been holding. That gave him a little time.

Ryou gave him a smile. "Bakura has a performance in a few days if you want to come and watch it. We always have a spare ticket."

"Shut up, Ryou."

Malik looked over at him. "You actually perform?"

Bakura huffed and began beating the eggs faster. "Yeah."

"I thought you just... taught classes."

He shook his head and turned on the pan, dropping some butter into it. "No. It's only small so it's not a big deal."

"It's Swan Lake," Ryou corrected, "in the War Memorial and Performing Arts Center."

Malik's eyes widened. "Holy shit, honey, that's huge!"

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stop telling people." Bakura glared down at the sizzling butter.

Ryou sighed and turned back to Malik. "He gets a little nervous," he mumbled, "but he's fantastic. Especially when he's actually stuck to his diet for once in his life."

"I can still hear you." Bakura dumped the eggs into the pan. Malik glanced towards the microwave as it beeped three times, and fetched his bowl of porridge. He hissed as it burned his fingers, and was in the midst of taking it out with a tea towel when Mehi returned.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." She rolled her shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, go change and get in here." Bakura waved his spatula as he began scooping everything except the eggs into a large bowl, though he kept the bacon separate. "Ryou, would you butter toast?"

"Sure." Ryou grabbed the toast as Malik spooned a tiny bit of maple syrup into his porridge.

He frowned at it for a moment before starting. "Shit, my phone." He made his way over to the plug. On silent, fully charged, and ten missed calls, all from Rishid. "Shit." Just as he turned his phone off silent, Rishid called again, his ringtone echoing through the apartment. He took a slow breath and answered. "Hey, 'akh."

"Malik." Rishid sounded exhausted. "I've been trying to reach you all night – where are you?"

"I'm... I'm just with some friends." Malik slowly sank down the wall until he was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. Ryou peeked out at him, but ducked back into the kitchen after a second. "Did Isis tell you-?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she did." Rishid let out a slow breath. "Malik-"

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, I know you didn't. But you've put us both in an awkward position."

Malik chewed his lip. "I know." Rishid didn't respond. "What should I do?"

"Nothing," his brother sighed. "Just... Why now, Malik? You were so close."

Malik swallowed. "It needed to be said," he muttered, "and I wasn't going to let her say that about Mehi."

"You know what she's like-"

"She still doesn't get to say that," Malik insisted.

Rishid just sighed again. He sounded even more tired now. "Okay."

Malik waited. Silence filled the line until he coughed. "What should I do, 'akh? Can- Can I come home?"

"I... Not right now, Malik." His heart dropped into his stomach, eyes burning. "Isis needs some time."

"Well what am I meant to do?" He didn't mean it to sound aggressive, but it was nothing short of a snap. "I can't just stay here the whole time- that wouldn't be fair on them-"

"I don't know, Malik. I'm trying, but she's stubborn and traditional. She needs time."

Malik squeezed his eyes shut. "I just want to see her again."

"And you will," Rishid promised, "but you need to wait until she wants to see you."

The tear came unbidden, falling down his cheek from a pool in his eye that he couldn't quite get rid of. He squeezed them tighter, shoulders shaking.

"Malik? Malik, you know I-"

The phone was snatched from Malik's hand and he looked up as Bakura held it to his ear. "Fuck off," the other snapped. "You're supposed to be his family. If you aren't going to fucking act like it, then you can piss the actual fuck off and leave him to have his breakfast in fucking peace." He hung up without waiting for a reply and looked at Malik. "Too much?"

Malik dug his palm into his eye. "Fuck," he hissed, teeth grinding. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just-

"Hey, it's okay. Don't- don't do that," Mehi told him. He looked up to see both her and Ryou watching him. "They need to get their act together."

"I guess." Malik wiped his cheeks on his sleeve and pushed himself up. "Still."

Ryou shook his head. "Still nothing."

Bakura offered his hand. "Come on. Let's go eat before it gets cold." Malik hesitated, eyes flickering to Ryou and Mehi before he took the hand and allowed Bakura to lead him into the kitchen. "Besides, we already told you that you can stay as long as you need to."

"Exactly," Ryou agreed, sliding into his seat.

Malik managed a small smile as he sat down, the sweet scent of the porridge easing his tumbling stomach. "Thanks." He took a bite and relaxed as everyone else began to eat as well. "So we're all going to the show tonight, yeah?"

Bakura smacked his head against the table. "Okay, I will literally stab the next person to fucking say the word performance."

Mehi smirked. "But that will have to be you, since you need to tell us where to go."

"Nope. I could just let you all suffer." Bakura smirked.

"How?"

"By not telling you where the parking is or where to get the tickets, so you can't get into the performance- fuck." He scowled. "Okay, Ryou, get me the knife. Mama didn't raise a quitter."

"Bakura, no."

"Bakura yes."

"But if you stab yourself, you can't perform." Malik grinned, swallowing a large mouthful of porridge.

Bakura glared at him. "Make it two knives."

Hope you enjoyed! I'll be doing a special update on Monday because of my birthday. See you then!