Sticks and Stoners

"KURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" Bakura wearily dropped his head onto the desk in front of him. The last thing he needed right now was Marik on a sugar high. You wouldn't think it to look at him, but Marik Ishtar was highly susceptible to sugar highs. The ivory-haired teen dropped into his seat next to his friend, almost physically buzzing and happy abut something. "What's up, mopey? You look down."

If only I could tell you the truth, Riku, Bakura wished to himself. If only I could make you understand... But if he told Marik, his eccentric friend would no doubt "go over there and lay some serious beatings on that bastard". Which, tempting as it may be, wouldn't really be a good idea on the long run. So, plastering on a fake smile, Bakura shook his head, the white spikes of his hair swishing gently.

"I'm fine, Riku, just a bit tired." He added a fake yawn to the words. He needn't have bothered: Marik didn't seem to be paying the slightest speck of attention. He was more preoccupied with doing a stupid dance in his chair that made him look like the mushrooms out of the Mario games and humming the tune of his new favourite song, Amaranth by Nightwish, albeit a slightly pepped-up version. He was acting like he was on something. "Riku, have you been eating frosting again?"

"Kinda, sorta, maybe, no." Marik held a solemn expression for a second, but immediately collapsed into a manic grin. He started dragging random books from his bag, slamming them onto the table with more enthusiasm than was necessary first thing on a Monday. "Okay, maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. The point is, I got my Field of View tickets and that's all there is to anything. And we have English first lesson, so all's good in Marik-land!!!"

Bakura winced at the piercing happiness in Marik's voice. There was no excuse for it- yes, he had the tickets he'd been waiting for forever, and yes, his favourite lesson was English, but that didn't give him an excuse to be quite so high-pitched.

"Marik, I swear there's something going on with you." Bakura assessed, staring appraisingly at his friend. "You sure you haven't been eating anything?" He barely caught it- that flicker of a shadow that passed over Marik's face, gone almost before it had appeared. But he had seen it. Oblivious, Marik shook his head strongly, his sugar-rush grin a white crescent in his copper-skinned face.

"You worry too much, Baka-kura!" The smile suddenly faded from Marik's face as his razor-sharp lavender eyes caught something odd. "What's up with your eye? There's a massive bruise under it..." He ran a thin finger down the light purple stain, almost worried. "You walk into a door handle or something?"

"Something like that..." Truth be told, he had walked into something. Only it wasn't so much a door handle as a small fist on the arm of a certain "kitten". Shaking off the shivers the light touch had sent through him, he picked up his own bag and hauled out his books, a flicker of happiness surrounding him. English sucked, but at least it would take his mind off his injuries for a while. And who had caused them.

"You seen his Lordship?" he asked, extracting a sheet of guitar tabs from his textbook and replacing them in the bag. Marik shook his head vigorously and went back to his Mario dance. Almost on cue, the classroom door opened to admit Atemu, looking windswept and slightly flushed from an obvious sprint through the corridors. Waving to his friends, he took his seat just as the teacher swept into the room.

"Ohayo, class," she twittered brightly, grinning at the "enthusiasm" of the response. "And don't think I didn't see you sneaking in late, Motou-san. Don't do it again. Anyway... last lesson, I believe we left off in the middle of the imperative, present tense..." Bakura sagged in his seat tiredly, ignoring the way his position pulled on one of his cuts. This was going to be a long day.