Damn, I didn't actually realise this single chunk was over 4k words, but have some nerds playing 20 questions because I love doing that with new people. Anyway, magic doesn't exist in this universe, but Ryou is still magic, at least a little. I love the idea of magic existing in mundane situations, like that one person at work who has never broken a nail in their life, or the one at school who never has a typo, so Ryou's magic is getting people's coffee order's fucking perfect. It has 0 plot relevance aside from a few lines, but I wanted it in there.

CW: Talking about Malik's past/abuse, Ryou's mother/sister's death

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Malik barely lifted his head as Ryou walked in the next day, a tight, knitted pain assaulting him.

"Morning," Ryou chirped, apparently unphased by his own night out.

Malik grunted in response and turned back to the computer. He'd already been at work for an hour and had no intention of making small talk when the screen was already hurting his eyes.

"Did you have a good night last night?" Ryou asked, walking up to the desk.

Malik didn't reply, but looked up when Ryou placed a coffee cup in front of him. "I won't drink a nutmeg roast today." He'd barely kept down the toast he'd forced himself to swallow that morning.

"I figured," Ryou replied, still annoyingly awake and cheerful. "Small americano in a large cup with oat milk filled to the top and one sugar."

What the actual fuck? Malik took a sip from the coffee. Exactly as Ryou had said. Malik slammed the cup down on the table. To his credit, Ryou didn't flinch, though he did frown. "Have you been talking to my brother?"

"Rishid?" Ryou shook his head. "No, I haven't spoken to him since the first day."

Malik narrowed his eyes. "Bullshit. No way you guessed my coffees twice." Especially his hangover coffee. A first one, a lucky guess, Malik understood. But a half americano, half oat milk, one sugar?

"I'm good with coffee orders." Ryou shrugged. "I don't know what else to tell you." Malik huffed, shoulders slumping. "But I don't appreciate being yelled at. You don't want a coffee? Tell me. Don't snap at me for getting your order right."

Malik chewed his tongue. "Alright," he said slowly, "I apologise for yelling."

"Thank you." Ryou's scowl lifted to a strained smile. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Don't push your luck." Malik glared at him. He took another cautious sip of his coffee. It really was perfect. "Come on, get to work. We've a lot to get through in the next few weeks."

Ryou rolled his eyes but walked over to his desk, and the two silently worked until the break, and then through until fifteen minutes before lunch - time they dedicated to checking each other's work.

Ryou stretched with a content sigh as the alarm went off in Malik's pocket. "Do you always set alarms for breaks?"

Malik glanced at him as he turned it off. "Of course." He rolled his shoulders back. "It's the only way I can remind myself to stop."

"Mm." Ryou smiled. "It's great you love your work so much."

Malik blinked. "Pardon?"

"Oh." Ryou shook his head. "I just mean it's great that you're in a job you love. I mean, clearly - you get drawn into your work."

Malik blinked a few more times and looked away with a grunt. It wasn't that he loved translating. He certainly enjoyed some projects more than most, and it was a tolerable career. He was just trained to not break focus, to his detriment in many cases. Hence the alarms. It was an improvement on how he used to be, not taking breaks until the end of the day. It had been a full month before he even found the owners' break room on the floor below them. It took Rishid, Isis and Kek together working with him in therapy to slowly work breaks into his day without the vivid flashbacks of their father screeching, spittle flying, whenever Malik got distracted when he was younger.

He shook his head. Any time he thought about it, the screaming came back, and he couldn't deal with that while tired and still a touch hungover. "Let's trade work. I don't want to run into lunch."

Ryou hummed in agreement, carrying his notebook over to Malik. Malik cringed as they traded. Ryou's notes were just as bad as the previous day, but at least he was prepared for it this time. They looked like his when he'd started until- no. He'd already decided not to think about that today.

He leaned in, propping his chin up on his fist. The flowing sleeve of the blouse he'd chosen dripped to his elbow as he scanned the translations. They were good. Precise, with improvement on yesterday's ones too. He made a few notes in the margins, but nothing major. With Ryou not caring about perfection, it was better than Malik had expected.

What he didn't expect when they traded notebooks again was a scribbled note in the margins of his work. "What's this?" His words were tight, as was his back.

"Oh, just a small mistranslation I picked up," Ryou replied. "The tomb was definitely split into a number of different artists, because one used a colloquial word for 'reign' rather than 'time', which is what you had. I only noticed it because I had the same hieroglyph a few years back on another project and we spent a week trying to figure it out." Malik clenched the paper, almost tearing it from the book. "It's not a big deal."

Yes, it was.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?"

Malik flinched, though the room was silent.

"Malik?"

Malik shook his head, staring at the page. He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up.

"Malik, breathe."

He had to be perfect, or what was the point? He'd been trained in this since he was a child, and here came some sloppy, under-dressed museum employee correcting him. Ryou touched his arm and Malik flinched back. His back burned.

"Malik, you're hyperventilating," Ryou murmured. "I need you to breathe with me, okay? In..." He sucked in and waited until Malik did the same. "Out... In... Out..." He guided Malik's breaths until Malik finally relaxed his grip on the notebook, and slumped back into his chair.

He stared up at the ceiling, eyes burning now rather than his skin. He was not about to cry at work in front of someone he barely knew.

Ryou hesitated and walked back to his desk, and Malik closed his eyes. Small mercies. At least Ryou wouldn't bother him about it.

He frowned when he heard wheels dragging along the wooden floor and looked down again in time to see Ryou pull his own chair around to the front of Malik's desk and sit down. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Malik clicked his tongue. "Not particularly," he muttered, looking to the side. His dahlias would need to be watered soon. Ryou stayed silent until Malik sighed. "I... didn't exactly have a good childhood," he finally muttered.

Ryou nodded, as though he could possibly understand.

"I don't love translating." Malik tilted his head back. "My father was... absolutely fucking insane. He forced us all into it. We had to be perfect, from the start. Mistakes were not tolerated."

Ryou leaned forward in his chair. "In what way?"

Malik swallowed. No one knew, but his siblings, his therapist, and Bakura. No one. But Ryou, despite everything, was easy to talk to, for whatever reason. "It differed. I was whipped, with his belt." Ryou's eyes widened. "I still have the scars. It's one of the reasons I force myself to take breaks - if I don't, my back acts up, especially in the winter." The buckle had torn through skin and muscle like it was felt, leaving him with thick, rippling scars. He shook his head. "The bastard died years ago, but..." He sniffed and met Ryou's gaze. "I'm sorry. You don't need to hear this."

"I want to," Ryou murmured. "And you... you look like you need it."

Malik let out a slow breath. "He had this... idea that there was a Pharaoh coming back to save the good and damn the rest," he explained. "So we grew up in... honestly, it was a cult." He swallowed. "He died when I was ten, but it..." He scoffed. "It was ten years of my childhood. Fuck, I started when I was three. So yeah, it... it did some damage. I tried to get away from the whole thing, but... my sister works as a museum curator in Egypt, and I was good at translation so she kept pulling me back in, and it was a stable job. Rishid was good at business too, so we started this up once we moved and had enough money to risk it. I don't love it, but... it more than pays the bills, I guess, and I can dress however I please." And how he needed to dress. His back required light, soft clothes, but he also had sensory issues, and after years of wearing pants, even expensive ones, where his legs burned under the fabric, skirts had provided the relief Malik needed.

"Shit," Ryou whispered. "I- I mean-" He shook his head. "Shit."

Malik snorted, a tiny grin on his face. "Yeah. It really was." He shook his head. "So... look, I'm genuinely sorry if I'm... a bitch about perfectionism. I'm doing my best."

"I get it." Ryou nodded. "It's hard. I..." He looked away. "I obviously can't understand what you went through, but I was bullied a lot in school, and anything that reminds me of that-" He shook his head. "It's a bad trigger. I'm sorry I caused that."

"Excuse me?" Malik raised his eyebrows. "You did exactly what you're paid to do. You found a mistranslation and corrected it. I did that to you all day yesterday, and today." He gestured at Ryou's notes. "I just... need to get over it."

Ryou rolled his eyes. "That's bullshit and you know it. You can't just get over trauma. Honestly, from what you've told me, you're doing amazingly well." He paused for a moment and stood up. "Come on."

Malik glanced up at him but followed Ryou to his feet. "What?"

Ryou grinned. "Follow me. I have a plan."

Malik hummed but followed Ryou out of his office to the elevator. Maybe lunch? Ryou hit the lobby button, so not in the building. Lunch was only an hour, so maybe he knew somewhere nice nearby. Malik managed to put off asking until they were out of his building. "Where exactly are we going?"

Ryou grabbed his hand with bright eyes and a matching smile. "We're playing hooky."

Malik's eyes widened and he pulled them to a halt. "No, we're not. We can get lunch, but we still have work to do-"

"We're ahead of schedule already," Ryou pointed out, "and you're in no condition to keep working."

"It was a small flashback," Malik protested. "I'm fine."

"Malik, you had a panic attack." Ryou shook his head, his smile softening a touch. "Which is fine, of course, but you need a break. That seemed like it was building up for a while."

Malik couldn't deny that, but panic attacks and flashbacks were a part of his life. "I can't just play hooky whenever I have a flashback. I'd never get any work done if I did that."

"That's not what I'm saying," Ryou sighed, "although that doesn't sound healthy. But today, you're absolutely playing hooky. Come on. When was the last time you took the afternoon off?" Malik paused to consider it. "Exactly. You deserve a break." He began walking again, leading Malik with him.

Malik only realised they were still holding hands a minute later, and he pulled his hand free. If Ryou cared, he didn't show it, simply looking back with another of those gentle smiles, eyes warm. They were brown, Malik realised, like dark chocolate, almost black, only adding to the weird ethereal beauty Ryou seemed to possess- beauty? No. No, no, nope. Malik forced himself to stare at the path ahead instead, definitely so he wouldn't trip and nothing else.

He followed Ryou onto the skyline train without objection, though he did comment that he could have his chauffeur pick them up. He could also have driven them wherever Ryou wanted, but he doubted Ryou would enjoy the speeds Malik liked to reach on his Ducati.

Ryou simply grinned and dropped into one of the free seats. "That would ruin the experience."

Malik rolled his eyes but sat next to Ryou, crossing his legs and smoothing out the rich purple, knee-length skirt he wore. He got one or two odd looks, but nothing like he used to get on public transport. The lunch rush hadn't quite hit yet, so the train was quiet, and Malik leaned his chin on his hand, staring out the window behind them.

"Inside or outside?" Ryou asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Malik tilted his head to look at Ryou. "Pardon?"

"Inside or outside?" Ryou repeated. "Where would you rather be?"

Malik considered it. "Outside." His entire childhood had been spent indoors, trapped in a dark apartment, with his father afraid that the perpetual sin of an evolving world would corrupt the family beyond the returning Pharaoh's salvation.

"Perfect." Ryou smiled and stood, wandering over to the doors. "In that case, our stop is next."

Malik followed Ryou over to the doors and down out of the station when the train stopped. They were in one of the middle-class residential areas, larger apartment buildings and quaint shops dotted about the place. Ryou led him past them all, and into one of the parks the buildings bordered.

Flowers grew from the hedges around them, well-tended despite the weather, and large, rich trees hid them from the sharp sunlight, creating a dappled woodland path.

"There's a nice café in here," Ryou explained, turning to Malik as they walked. "They have some outdoor seating around a firepit, so it'll be warm, but we can still stay outside."

Malik hummed. "How did you find it?"

Ryou's smile returned and he tilted his head back. The sun peaking through deep green leaves created shifting patterns on his face. "My mother actually brought me and my sister here, when we were younger. They've passed since, but I like to come here whenever I'm feeling down or want to remember the good times."

Malik pursed his lips. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, please don't." Ryou glanced at him. "I never know how to react when people apologise for someone's death, like they were a burden. It was a long time ago, too, but I had good memories with them, so I prefer to focus on that when I can. Besides, it's far too nice for you, and if I wanted nice, I would never have signed up to work with you."

Malik nodded slowly. That made sense. "Do you mind me asking?"

"When or how?" Ryou smiled again, but it was tight, and didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Both."

"It's coming up on twenty years now," Ryou admitted. "I was about to turn eleven, and my mother was bringing Amane to dance class. I was sick at the time, so I didn't go. The car skidded on some black ice through a red light, and another car t-boned them. They died on impact, so they didn't suffer, which I suppose I should be grateful for." He shook his hair, hair shimmering in the light.

"Did you have anyone left?"

Ryou considered the question. "In a way." He stepped over a root poking out of the earthy ground. "My father was still alive, but he buried himself in his work, and travelled a lot, so I was on my own for a lot. I can't exactly blame him for it..."

"But you resent him." It wasn't a question. It was obvious on Ryou's face.

Ryou nodded slowly. "He lost his wife and daughter, but he still had his son and he chose to avoid that responsibility. We don't speak anymore."

Malik let out a slow breath but a sardonic grin spread across his face. "Well, here's to shitty fathers, I guess."

Ryou's head jerked up, like he wasn't expecting that, like he had been waiting for Malik to insist that they were family, but blood was nothing if effort wasn't put in, and Malik seethed at the thought of someone abandoning their child because it was easy. Ryou's smile returned and he nodded. "To shitty fathers." He focused on the trail again and the two fell into a comfortable silence until the trees thinned and they emerged next to a small cottage. "Here we are."

Malik glanced over the cottage. If it weren't for the sign out front proclaiming its open status and a handful of chairs and tables, he would have assumed it was somebody's home. Perhaps a gardener's.

"You sit at the fire pit," Ryou told him, "and I'll grab us menus from inside."

Malik hummed in assent and made his way over to the table closest to the pit. It was buried into the ground, surrounded by stone with a metal grate over the top for safety, but it let off enough heat for Malik to take off the jacket he'd pulled on as they left the train. Moments later, Ryou returned with menus and they fell silent as they chose what to get until a waiter came to take their orders.

When she left, Malik tilted his head back to stare at the sky. Fluffy white clouds drifted by overhead, foretelling a bitter wind later in the evening, and the sun peeked through them.

"Thank you for this," he said, not looking at Ryou. "I... needed it."

Ryou smiled and out of the corner of his eye, Malik saw him reach out, then hesitate and pull back. "It's not a problem. Really. When you're not snarking every breath, you're not bad company."

"Wow, thanks," Malik snorted, turning his head to look at Ryou. "You're not too bad yourself when you're not spilling coffee everywhere." It had only taken the one day to learn Ryou always came in with clean clothes, but seven cups of coffee later, would inevitably have spilled it on himself at least twice by the day's end.

Ryou rolled his eyes, but he was grinning. "In all seriousness, I'm glad I could help. Even if only a little."

Malik chewed the inside of his lip. "More than a little," he finally admitted. He ran a finger along the poor paintjob, flakes of white peeling off the metal table as he did so. "That was... more than anyone outside of my family has ever done for me."

Ryou blinked but his grin softened into a smile. "Well, I'm sorry no one else has done this for you before. You deserve that in your life." He leaned in. "How many are in your family? I've met Rishid and you mentioned a sister...?"

Malik nodded. "Isis - she works in Cairo. We also have another brother, Kek. He's only a few minutes younger than me actually, but he moved to Osaka a few years back. Works customising bikes."

"That sounds amazing." Ryou's eyes lit up. "Did he do yours?" Malik raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I saw it in the garage earlier. It was purple," Ryou said, as though it explained everything.

Malik supposed it did. No one else in his building could pull off a custom purple Ducati. "Yes. It was a birthday present a few years back."

"That was nice of him." Ryou's smile grew. "I've a few cousins, but they're all still living in Ireland, so I only get to see them for weddings."

"Ah, you're Irish?"

"Half," Ryou confirmed. "My mother was. We moved over to Japan after she died. My father... needed some space from Ireland."

Fat lot of good it did, from what Ryou said. Malik ignored that, instead asking, "What about you? Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes," Ryou replied, "sure. The good parts. But Japan suits me. I might go back and visit sometimes, when I save up, but I've no intention of moving again. I had enough of that when I was young."

Malik hummed softly. "I see."

"My turn." Ryou tilted his head. "Why did you get into crossdressing?"

This was turning into a game far too easily, but Malik allowed it to roll off him. "I don't," he said, leaning back in his chair, "crossdress. These aren't women's clothes - they're mine, and I'm a man, so they're men's clothes."

Ryou nodded hurriedly. "Right, sorry."

"No need to apologise. You're too fond of it." Malik crossed one leg over the other. "Nice doesn't suit you either. But it was sensory issues. Pants are... tight and constricting. And boring." If there was one thing Malik hated, it was boring. "I wore robes as a child, so I assumed it was a sort of growing pain, getting used to pants. After a while, it was actually Kek who picked up on it and got me shorts and a skirt to try. The shorts helped, but again, were boring. And ugly. So I started wearing skirts and dresses, first at home and then full-time when I came to Japan." His lips quirked into a half-smirk. "So why do you dress so drab at work?"

Ryou blinked. "Uh, I..." He chuckled, shaking his head. "I wasn't expecting that. I thought I dressed quite professionally."

"Aside from the coffee stains?"

"Of course." Ryou inclined his head. They fell silent again as the waiter returned with their food.

Malik had half forgotten his question, already eating his falafel sandwich - which, holy gods, was amazing - when Ryou continued.

"I assumed this was how I had to dress, if I'm being honest."

Malik's gaze flickered up from his food to see Ryou frowning at his own soup. "You should wear something else tomorrow," he said.

Ryou's head snapped up. "What?"

"Something like at the club." Malik took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. Ryou was still staring. "Not quite, but... colour. Colour suits you."

Ryou's cheeks pinked. That definitely suited him. "Really?"

Malik nodded. "Of course. I don't lie about clothes."

"Okay." Ryou took a sip of his soup. "I will."

"Good." Malik smiled, even though he wasn't quite sure why the thought made him do so. "I also have another question."

"Hey, it's my turn." Ryou frowned.

"What, is this twenty questions?" Malik snorted.

"I, well, no." Ryou's lips twisted.

"Good." Malik grinned. "So, your makeup the other night..."

"Oh, I didn't realise you'd noticed it." Ryou glanced down.

"The UV paint was very noticeable." Malik's lips quirked up. "I've just... never seen someone accentuate bags under their eyes before. Can I ask why?"

"Oh, that's easy." Ryou pushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "When I was young, I would always stay up late gaming, and that gave me pretty bad bags early on. I got made fun of for that, acne... pretty much everything to do with-" He made a vague gesture to his face. "I was popular with the girls in secondary- sorry, high school, but-" He shook his head. "The acne eventually went away, the bags not so much. I came across a social media trend a while ago where someone was doing makeup looks with conventionally ugly things, like bags and acne, and I loved it. So now, I do the same when I'm in the mood."

Malik nodded slowly. "That makes sense. It looked good. What I saw of it anyway."

"Thanks." Ryou brightened. "Now, it is actually my turn. You were at a... queer bar, so can I ask-?"

"Gay as a fucking maypole," Malik replied, not even letting Ryou finish the question. "You?"

"Bi." Ryou hesitated. "And... trans."

Malik nodded. "Pronouns?"

"He/him." Ryou relaxed. "Thanks. Sometimes people get weird."

"Because people are idiots." Malik rolled his eyes.

"That's mean," Ryou giggled, "but true. What about your pronouns?"

"He, they, just not she." Malik let out a slow breath. "Labels on my gender never really felt... I don't know, they just felt unnecessarily restrictive. I had enough of that in my life."

"Makes sense." Ryou smiled. "I get that. Thanks for telling me."

Malik shook his head. "I don't hide it, just no one bothers to ask."

"Okay, well you got an extra question earlier, so my turn again." Ryou leaned in. "Do you game?"

"Occasionally. I enjoy cosy games and pure gore." Malik grinned. "It's actually really fun when I get into it - I don't know why I don't play more."

"Okay, okay, I need to hear more." Ryou sipped his soup. "What games?"

The rest of lunch was spent talking about various games, including Monster World when they realised they were both avid fans, and quickly delved into their other interests. By the time they finished up, the sun was beginning to set, dying the clouds pink and orange.

"Thank you for this," Malik said as they walked back through the park. "I appreciate it."

"It's really not an issue. I had fun." Ryou gently bumped Malik with his shoulder. "You're not so bad when you're out of the office."

Malik snorted at that. "Neither are you." They paused at the entrance to the train station, and Ryou fidgeted.

"Well, I live the opposite direction to the office, and I don't really have anything to grab, so I should probably go. My train goes from the station a few blocks away."

Malik frowned. "That only goes to Northside. What area do you live in?"

"The Maakawa district."

"That's not particularly safe." Malik nibbled the inside of his lip. It was only a block or two past Nova. "Are you okay there?"

Ryou brushed off his concern as though it were a pestering fly. "Of course. It's not so bad, and I have a reinforced door. I've been living there the past few years. I'm fine." He smiled. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Malik sighed. He did his best to return the smile. "I'll see you then. Get home safe."

"Hey." Ryou nudged him again. "Don't worry. These few weeks will be up before you know it, and you can get back to your Instagram-worthy note taking without me."

A weak chuckle escaped Malik and he shook his head. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ryou." He slipped into the station but glanced back. Ryou was already walking away.

Just a few more weeks. The thought didn't bring Malik as much comfort as he thought it would.