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Author of 41 Stories |
You, My love, are Mello's...
Ice-Puppet
Author Note: Just a little one-shot I wrote to try and get myself out of a slump. It's not amazing. I'm not claiming its my best work, by far- in fact, I think its crap. But, eh. Writers block sucks.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, obviously.
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You’ve always been Mello’s bitch.
Excuse my crude language, but there’s really no other way to put it.
Mello asks for you and you come running, no matter what you are doing.
Mello wants to go outside and you follow him, despite your fear of the out doors. Mello wants chocolate and you sneak into the cafeteria, despite the fact that you might get in trouble for it. Mello wants to beat the snot out of me and you stop him, despite the fact that he beats the snot out of you, instead.
You, to put it plainly, are Mello’s bitch.
And when he leaves you, you find yourself lost. When L dies and Mello hits the road instead of sticking around, without so much as a goodbye, you don’t know what to do.
So you follow me around, instead. You ask me for something to do. You get confused when I do nothing more then sit there and play with my toys, with my puzzles. And you feel lost, once more.
I’d probably feel sorry for you, if I had it in me.
The years start to pass and you age, as do I. We grow closer. You are the first (and last person) I’d consider a friend.
You are also the first (and last) person I’d consider a lover.
It’s rough, at first. And it hurts. Not only physically, but on the inside. Because I know deep in your heart, you’d rather it were gone and Mello in your arms.
You probably think I don’t know how to feel hurt, don’t you? Because I’ve never shown you that I know how to feel anything. But, despite popular belief, I am not a robot. I do feel emotions. And it does hurt me that you love him, even after he abandoned you.
Even though I’m still here.
The Kira case progresses and soon I find myself amongst the SPK members. And you stand in the background, watching as I narrow down L’s murderer piece by piece. Waiting, watching- hoping. And I know. I know what you are hoping for.
Soon enough, he makes his entrance. Flashy, per usual. Dangerous and rugged. He wipes out most of the SPK members. He kidnaps the chief of police, and when that doesn’t work out he goes after Yagami Sayu- So he, too, has figured out L’s killer. He knows Yagami Light won’t kill his own sister.
Mello either isn’t thinking or has this planned out from the beginning. I lean more toward the first one as we watch the explosions from afar. It takes me only a second to realize that you are gone.
Without a goodbye.
I realize, then, as I stare at the empty bed we’d been sharing, that I wont ever see you again.
Because you are Mello’s bitch.
Crude as it may be, my dear, it is the truth.
Linder asks if I am alright, but I don’t answer. Instead, I continue staring at our empty bed for a few more moments before I finally leave.
Not much later, I am watching you die.
On Television, what a way for you to go. And here you’d always joked that Mello was the flashy one, that you preferred to stand around in the background.
Rester sends me a look but I am already standing, already leaving the room. I am in what used to be our bedroom now, dragging all of your forgotten things from their hidden crevices. Throwing them, tearing them, breaking them. Throwing a childish fit, showing anger, sorrow- things I’ve never shown to anyone, save for you.
You died for him. I know that. It’s like a stab in the back. It wasn’t for me- you can claim it was all you want, you can claim it was for the case, but in the end you and I both know that you died for him.
You died for Mello.
Because you are Mello’s bitch.
I eventually find myself laying amongst your broken games, your ripped clothing, your destroyed things laying around me. I’m not sobbing, but I can feel the tears in my eyes.
Rester knocks on the door. I ignore him.
“Mello is gone,” he says after a moment. Then he leaves.
I don’t cry for Mello. Only for you.
You would cry for Mello, if you were here. I wouldn’t comfort you, because I don’t know how. I would just let you cry.
But you are not here. You are dead. You are gone.
For him.
Because you, my love, are Mello’s bitch.