Oof sorry this is also late, but I was on a train and then at work and I really didn't want to proofread NSFW stuff in public. Hope y'all enjoy! The amazing art in this chapter was done by ThiefKingYall on tumblr! Go check them out!

CW: Slight panic, bleeding, NSFW, trauma

Bakura narrowed his eyes at the glasses in the display case. "Are you sure that pair looked good?" He muttered. "I don't want to look like one of the dweebs. I've already gotten too close - this could be the thing that makes them think I'm one of them."

Malik snorted and pulled up the photo of Bakura in his two pairs of glasses on his phone. "I'm sure. Look." He flicked between them for Bakura. "You look good. Especially in the black and gold pair."

Bakura hummed. "I think I prefer the red-rimmed ones." He flicked back to the ones in question, then forward to Malik's favourite pair. "You just have a thing for gold."

"And you just have a thing for red," Malik shot back, pocketing his phone again. "But you looked good in both of them, so it doesn't matter."

Bakura sank into the white plastic chair by the counter and leaned his head back. A few browsers milled around the shop, looking from case to case, the brilliant white lights reflecting off the glass. He rubbed his eyes as a child hopped up on a stool to properly see a pair of bright blue glasses.

"I don't get why I need them," he huffed as Malik sat beside him. "I've lived without them for ages."

"That's what you said about the inhaler," Malik pointed out. Bakura had ended up being diagnosed with asthma and was due to take a screening test to see if he was on the autistic spectrum. He had taken his shots, squeezing the life out of Malik's hand, and then stole a lollipop from the doctor's desk ("Because fuck her."). "Plus it could be because of your scar."

Bakura grunted. The inhaler had been useful, he supposed. It stopped him wheezing and coughing as much, especially after running or using his ka. And he did struggle to see out of his right eye a lot more. "Still. Glasses sound like a bullshit way to get people to spend money on something that'll break in a week."

"They won't break in a week."

"Then why do I need two pairs?"

"In case you lose or break one pair- you know what, stop complaining." Malik shook his head. "At least try them first."

Bakura huffed and reclined in the chair. His hair fell back away from his shoulders as he did so. "I guess I could."

"You'll have to," Malik snorted. "You've already paid for them."

Bakura shrugged. "I could give them to that kid." The girl was running around looking for her mom now, a pair of green glasses clenched in her chubby fist.

"That's not how glasses work." Malik pinched the top of his nose. "Just get through the end of this without complaining and I'll give you a massage when we get back."

Bakura grinned. "Oh? Just a massage?"

"It depends on how good you are."

"Alright, daddy."

Malik twisted to glare at him, but before he could kinkshame Bakura or call him out, one of the salespeople walked over to them with two green, plastic glasses cases and a brilliant white smile. "Bakura Yuuto?" Bakura nodded at her. She held out the plastic cases. Her black suit crinkled at her shoulder. "Here are your glasses. Please come back if there are any problems!"

"I will," Bakura muttered as he took them from her. They cost him over four thousand yen. If there was so much of a scratch on one lens within the first week, he was bringing those overpriced fuckers back.

The salesperson nodded and hurried over to the child and her mother as they made their way to the red counter, heels clicking out of tune with the crappy pop music playing on repeat.

"Well?" Malik was looking at him expectantly.

"Well?" Bakura prompted, eyebrows raised. "What, you want me to call you daddy again? Gods, I knew you were kinky but-"

Malik swatted at Bakura's arm. "Try on the glasses, asshole."

Bakura stuffed the cases into his jacket pocket. "Nah. Not yet." Malik opened his mouth to argue, but Bakura stood up. "Just until we get outside. The lights are bothering me."

Another thing they had learned from the check-up was that Bakura was extremely light-sensitive, so Malik just pursed his lips and followed Bakura through the shopping centre. They joined hands to make sure neither of them got lost again, and though Bakura knew the crowds bothered Malik, it didn't seem to be at the stage of the market.

Once they were a few minutes away from the centre, Malik pulled Bakura over to a bench outside a restaurant. "Okay, let's try them."

"Don't you mean I try them?" Bakura snorted, though he sat down with Malik.

"No because that doesn't work gram- oh fuck off." Malik folded his arms as Bakura snickered. "I don't know how your lecturers are going to deal with you."

Bakura's laughter died a little and he opened one of the cases. He didn't acknowledge Malik's jab. The black and gold pair were first - a narrow, rectangular frame with gold wiring and black grips on the bits that hooked around his ears.

He looked at Malik once more before putting them on. He closed his eyes as he slid them into place. Malik waited for a moment, and then pulled Bakura's hands away from his face. With no other option, the smaller man opened his eyes. Bakura stared.

"Well?" Malik smiled.

A smile stretched across Bakura's face. "I can see leaves!"

Malik laughed. "Do you like them?"

Bakura looked up at him, eyes bright and wide. "Holy shit. Holy shit."

Malik's laughter only grew and he brushed Bakura's fringe up out of his eyes. "Is it much better?"

"I can actually see fucking leaves - and cracks on the path!" Bakura pulled his feet up onto the bench, knees pressed against his chest. "I can read the sign across the road, holy shit!" He turned and pressed his lips to Malik's.

Malik started, automatically tensing. Public, kissing, Japan. They both knew it wasn't a good mix, but Malik returned the kiss. Bakura's smile ended up breaking the kiss and he pressed his forehead against Malik's. "Thank you," he whispered, "for this."

"It wasn't me who got them for you," Malik chuckled.

Bakura shook his head. "I love you."

Malik's smile softened a little and he pressed another kiss to Bakura's lips, passers-by be fucked. "I love you too." The right corner of his lips lifted higher than the left. "Now, do you want to start heading home? I believe I owe you a massage."

"Sure." Bakura allowed Malik to pull him off the bench and they began the walk back to Malik's apartment. It was quiet enough; because Bakura couldn't take his eyes off everything around him.

Malik had to stop him from wandering into traffic twice. "Honey, the glasses are meant to help you get around."

"Yeah, yeah." Bakura stared at the birds flying overhead in a v-shape. The sky was turning a muted orange colour, and Malik began moving the second the walking man light turned green - he wanted to get home before it got too dark.

Bakura stalled, took a step, and tripped over the top of the sidewalk. His knee slammed into the pavement, and Malik twisted. Cold shot through him and he ran back to Bakura, the other barely able to stop his chin hitting the ground. "Fuck, are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Bakura jolted up. The light turned orange and he grabbed Malik's hand - his palm was grazed.

Malik could feel the angry heat radiate from it, gravel digging into his own skin as Bakura dragged him across the rest of the road. A car beeped at them and Malik snapped at them to fuck off.

Bakura was limping by the time they reached the other side, grinding his teeth. "Fucking weak ass body," he grumbled, leaning against the wall. He released Malik's hand and checked his palm. He winced, and then wiped the gravel away.

"What happened?" Malik shook his head.

Bakura huffed. "Nothing. I was just watching the birds." He shook his head. "Come on - let's keep walking."

Malik frowned. "No. No, we need to get you to a pharmacy at least and treat those cuts." Before they got infected. Before Bakura got more hurt.

"I'm fine," Bakura repeated. Malik raised an eyebrow. Bakura sighed and took off his glasses to check them. "If I show you how to heal them with heka, will you stop bitching at me?"

Malik blinked a few times, then bit his lip. "I can heal you?"

Bakura nodded and put his glasses on again. They suited him. "But I'll only show you at the apartment. It can be part of your training. Deal?"

Malik let out a slow breath through his nose. If he pushed the pharmacy, Bakura probably wouldn't show him how to do it - if only out of spite. "Fine." He took Bakura's uninjured hand. "But I'm giving you the massage too."

Bakura grinned. "You say that like I'd protest."

The rest of the walk was a little slower than it should have been, with Bakura limping and Malik checking on him every few minutes. He also didn't let go of Bakura's hand, and squeezed it whenever Bakura got too distracted. He couldn't fall again. He couldn't.

Once they were up in the apartment, Bakura flopped onto the bed with a groan, and Malik kicked off his shoes. "Okay, what do I do?"

Bakura squeezed his eyes shut. "Do the same as you were doing for yourself the other day, but just- fuck, push your energy out of your hands I guess? That's what it feels like. But do it softly - too hard and you'll blow me through the wall."

"Wonderful," Malik whispered as he knelt down at Bakura's feet.

Bakura grinned. "You look good there."

"Now is not the time to be making sex jokes." Malik rolled his eyes and pulled the leg of Bakura's jeans up. He hissed.

The wound wasn't as bad as it could have been, given how hard he had fallen, but it still hadn't closed over and though it wasn't wide, it was deep. Malik slowly covered the cut with his cupped hands. "Okay..." Like the other day. He could manage that.

He closed his eyes, letting his energy pool in his stomach. Slowly, it began to spread up into his chest, down his arms, across his palms. Bakura's knee felt warm, and Malik risked a glance. He grinned. Gone. "How does it feel?"

Bakura grunted. "Pretty good." He stretched his leg out as Malik sat back on his heels. "Really good actually. Shit."

"Give me your hand." Malik reached out and took it without waiting for Bakura to give it to him. The graze stretched across most of the palm, ripping open one of Bakura's scars- no. Ryou's scar. The one from the tower. Malik closed his eyes again. His palms were still tingling, so it didn't take nearly as much focus to draw on his heka again and ease it into Bakura's skin.

Just like last time, he checked it, expecting to see the usual dark brown palm with a star-shaped scar. But no scar strained against Bakura's hand - just smooth skin. "What the-" Malik's grip on Bakura's hand tightened. "Fuck, what- what did I-"

Bakura pulled his hand back. "Oh."

"Oh?" Malik stared at him. "I fucked up!" Bakura loved his scars - said they were memories, or proof that he had lived or some shit.

"No." Bakura shook his head. "No it's okay." He lowered his hand. "I didn't like that one anyway." He didn't like two of the three he had gotten in the ring. He leaned down to cup Malik's face. He looked concerned - Malik must have still been tense, though it didn't feel like he was. It just still felt like he'd betrayed Bakura's trust. "It's okay."

"But-" Malik pulled Bakura's hand away to look at his skin again. At a second glance, it wasn't gone. Not entirely. The star was still there, but the tight, stretched skin was gone; the different texture too. It was hardly noticeable - just a shade lighter than Bakura's skin.

"It's okay," Bakura repeated. "Ryou and I talked about it before. It doesn't matter."

Malik swallowed and looked away. He should feel bad. He did feel bad - but he felt worse because the only thing he could think about now was his back. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Most people can't," Bakura admitted. "Not on their first try at least. So it's not your fault."

Malik sighed and pulled himself up onto the bed beside Bakura. "Can you do it?"

Bakura hesitated. He knew. Malik couldn't meet his gaze. He was being selfish. "I don't think you want that."

"I do." Malik's hands balled into fists. "Gods, I've never wanted them. I just want them gone."

Bakura placed his hand on Malik's wrist and gave it a small squeeze. "It's not going to fix things." Malik shrugged. "It's not going to erase what happened, and they'll still sort of be there." He flashed Malik the back of his hand- of course. The tower roof had pierced the back too.

The scar was more noticeable there, on the darker skin. It was roughly the same shade as on his palm, but it stood out more. His scars would look like that. An imprint, more than scarring. A birthmark.

"I know," Malik whispered. He shouldn't have brought it up. "And if you don't want to do it, that's okay-"

"No." Bakura squeezed his wrist again. "No, I do. I do want to." He tried to meet Malik's gaze, and this time, the latter let him. "I just don't think this is going to go the way you want it to."

Malik gritted his teeth. How would Bakura know? How the fuck could he? He liked his scars - he was proud of every single fucking one, from the slash on his half-fucking-blind eye to the two dots on his ankle from when a snake had bitten him. How could he understand? "I want," Malik whispered, "to do this."

Bakura let out a heavy breath, and for a moment, Malik thought he was going to say no. But instead, he smiled. "I thought I was the one getting a massage tonight."

Malik's stomach felt like someone had ripped it out - it just... it didn't exist anymore. "I can still give you one later-"

"Nah, it's fine." Bakura grinned and leaned up. He kissed Malik softly, like an angel, and then smirked like a devil when he pulled away. "But you do have lube, right?"

Malik snorted. "Naturally." He had gotten some after the last time. He twisted and pulled off his shirt before lying down on his stomach. When he looked over his shoulder, Bakura was staring at him. "Well?"

Bakura shook his head and pulled off his own shirt. "You're fucking gorgeous," he said as he crawled on top of Malik. "You know that?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice." Malik rested his forehead on his folded arms. He couldn't shake. Not now. He couldn't let anything stop this.

"Ready?"

"Yeah." This was everything he'd wanted since he was ten. He couldn't fuck it up.

Bakura's hands touched the top of his spine and Malik gasped.

"Is this okay?" Bakura murmured as he eased his hands over Malik's wings first.

"Gods yes." Malik hid his face in the mattress. He didn't want it to stop - ever. Bakura's fingers traced over the scars, and Malik writhed. It felt like he was... pushing them back. Gently. But it also felt like when Bakura had dropped down to his knees the first time and traced his tongue over Malik's shaft.

Bakura hummed and kissed the top of Malik's spine. He kept tracing over the scars, easing them down, until Malik had stopped moaning and was merely breathing heavily, Bakura's hands on the small of his back.

Malik didn't raise his head from the mattress. "What does it look like?" He assumed better. It had to be better. But Bakura liked scars. What if he liked Malik's scars? What if he didn't like Malik as much now? What if he left because of it- what if-

Malik flinched when he heard an animated shutter sound, and Bakura slid his phone in front of Malik's face. "See for yourself."

It took Malik a moment. "I don't want to."

"That's okay." Bakura took the phone away. "You can see later."

Malik nodded, but stretched his arm behind him and ran his own fingers up his back. He nearly sobbed. The rough scars were gone, leaving only smooth skin in their wake. Bakura carefully took his hand and kissed his pinky finger. "Happy?"

Malik rolled onto his back under him and pulled him down. "I love you," he whispered against his lips. "I love you. I love you."

"Mm- I love you too." Bakura smiled through their kisses, eyes open and fixed on Malik's.

Malik dragged his lips along the corner of Bakura's mouth, repeating thank yous and I love yous. Bakura shivered as Malik nipped his lip. "Malik," he murmured into his mouth, one hand slipping underneath him to cradle Malik's head.

Malik's right hand ran through Bakura's hair, his left on the small of the other's back. His lips burned and his grip on Bakura's hair tightened. Bakura clutched at Malik's bare side, thumb stretching to flick his nipple. Malik groaned and tugged at Bakura's shirt.

Bakura pulled back just enough to yank it and his belt off before kissing down Malik's throat. Malik cooed in appreciation, but it didn't send the same rush through him as he knew it did for Bakura, so he pulled his partner's head back by his hair and bit his neck. Bakura groaned and twisted Malik's nipples. Malik bit back a whine, muttering curses against Bakura's skin.

He bit Bakura's neck again, sucking, painting it over with red. His hips hitched up as Bakura kneaded his chest, and they both moaned as their groins slid together. Malik raked his nails down Bakura's chest. Bakura's head fell back and he called Malik's name. His hands fumbled for Malik's belt, yanking it free and pulling his pants down.

Malik shifted his hips up to help him take them off, content enough to let Bakura take off his own as well. Malik pulled him back down for another kiss. "How are we doing this?" Bakura gasped against his lips.

Malik reached out and fumbled blindly for the drawer his lube was in and grabbed it and his condoms. "You choose," he decided, pulling back just enough to speak clearly. Bakura stared at him, eyes hazy. "You get to pick," Malik repeated, just in case Bakura hadn't heard him the first time, "whatever you want."

Bakura nodded and took the lube off him. He kissed Malik, and for a minute, Malik expected to feel a finger prodding at his ass any second. But when Bakura moaned into his mouth, Malik pulled back to see him prepping himself, already on two fingers.

He smirked. "You know," he murmured, "I could do that for you."

Bakura shook his head. "No teasing tonight," he insisted, voice shaking. He added a third, spreading them apart. "You always fucking tease, you brat, I just- I just want-" He groaned and his head fell against Malik's chest. "Fuck-"

"What do you want?" Malik prompted. He opened the condom himself to save time as Bakura tried to respond.

"Mm-" Bakura pulled back as he slipped his fingers out. He wiped them on the blanket and Malik caught himself before he could lecture Bakura. Instead, he watched as Bakura crawled over him and lay on his side, back to Malik.

Malik turned onto his side, arms winding around Bakura. "Like this?" Bakura nodded, and Malik nudged his leg up a little. Once it was far enough, he held Bakura's knee, spreading his legs further apart. "Pretty intimate."

"You're the one who said you loved me," Bakura scoffed, breathless.

Malik ran the tip of his cock along Bakura's ass. "Mm, true. Still." He paused and began to ease into him. Bakura moaned. "Didn't think this would be one of your favourites."

"Shut up," Bakura gasped, hitching back, "and move!"

Malik gripped Bakura's waist with his free hand and thrust into him, harder. The position limited his movements a bit, so he couldn't go quite as fast as he'd wanted to - it was new and threw him out of his element, but Bakura moaned like he was in heaven.

"Fuck," he gasped, "oh fuck."

Malik wrapped his top arm around Bakura's waist, tracing his fingers along his thigh, and used his bottom one for leverage.

"Malik, please-"

Malik let his fingers slide up Bakura's thigh again to his cock, and wrapped his hand around it.

"Malik!" Bakura shouted, clutching the sheets with one hand, and reaching an arm around to grab Malik's waist with the second. Malik's stomach tightened - he fucking loved hearing Bakura scream his name - and he hitched his hips a little faster.

"I love you," Malik whispered, voice as tight as his groin, and he moved his hand faster. "I love you."

"I-I-I- fuck!" Bakura's eyes slammed shut. "Fuck, I l-lo- ah- love you-" Bakura bucked his hips forward into Malik's hand as he came, shaking against him.

Malik released him and gripped his hip again, moving faster, faster, as his body tensed, teetering on the brink of an orgasm. "Fuck, Bakura, Bakura, fuck- oh!" He stuttered to a halt inside Bakura, breath heavy and shaking.

His arms slowly wound around Bakura again, and he nuzzled into Bakura's back. Bakura hummed in appreciation. "Gods that was good," he breathed. "Right on my fucking prostate the whole time."

"Mm." Malik smiled. "I was beginning to wonder why you weren't getting louder. Thought I'd lost it."

"Ah yes," Bakura snorted, "because it's so easy to lose someone's prostate." He settled back into Malik's chest. "We should clean up," he finally mumbled.

Malik sighed, sleep dragging his eyelids down, ghosting over him, drawing him in. "I guess..." He reluctantly peeled himself away from Bakura. "Want a bath?"

"You look like you'll fall asleep if we do."

"I'm sure you can keep me awake." Malik smiled at him, and Bakura sat up.

"I suppose."

"Good." Malik pulled his condom off and tied it, dropping it into the bin on his way. "I'll fill it - you grab some towels."

"I'm not your servant," Bakura called into him, but Malik still heard him pad over to the wardrobe to locate towels.

He smiled and leaned over the bath, turning on the hot tap to full blast and the cold one to half-power. Just so it wouldn't boil them alive. He glanced up into the mirror that took up the entire fourth wall of the cream-tiled bathroom. His hair was a mess, scattered up and about his head like he had stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and his khol was smeared across his cheeks. He grinned. It wasn't a bad look, although he preferred it on Bakura.

He hesitated, eyes falling to his shoulder. Slowly, he turned and twisted his head so he could see his back in the mirror. The scars had healed more than Bakura's - while Malik had stopped the second he had realised what he was healing, Bakura had kept going, either until his heka wouldn't work or until they wouldn't heal anymore.

The larger scars were still visible - his wings, the disk on his spine, the three gods, and a few words here and there - but overall, the scars had healed into one another, words blurring, merging, incoherent.

"Hey." Malik turned to see Bakura watching him, concerned. He could feel tears dripping down his cheeks, though his vision wasn't blurring. "You okay?" Malik nodded. "Because if you don't like it, that's okay-"

"No," Malik whispered. He wrapped his arms around Bakura's waist. "No, I love it." He'd never felt so free from the tombs. Bakura let out a slow breath and dropped the towels at their feet, winding his arms up and around Malik's shoulders. His forearms pressed against what was left of the scars, and Malik closed his eyes, relishing in the warm covering. "I love you."

Bakura closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Malik's. "I love you too."

I honestly feel that given the chance, Malik would 100% choose to just get rid of his scars. It might low key come back to bite him in the ass later tho, woops. Hope I'll see you nerds again tomorrow. The next chapter I really want to have checked over by a few friends before I post it though, so I might post two on Saturday instead if they can't look over it in time, but that depends. Anyway, please review and see you next time.