Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, Mello or Sayu. The lyrics line is the same song as the last chapter, Patent Pending's Los Angeles. I'm going to try for all the lyric lines in this fic being from that song.

Note: Yeah I meant to update this faster. I don't know if this works very well as a MelloxSayu pairing story because it feels like I forced it, so please let me know what you think. I am horrible at writing pairings, which is of course what this is an exercise in practicing. I did enjoy describing Mello here though. And always. As anyone who reads my stuff will notice, I go off on rambling lyrical descriptions about Mello, because apparently I am in love with him. Anyway, enjoy.

x

Chapter Two

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Theme line: You're worth it.

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You and me are so blind

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There is never enough time.

Sayu is there for days, at the most. In any normal situation that would not be enough time for anything. Not time for her to get to know Mello, not enough time for Mello to get to know her. The time they spend together is best measured in hours, in snatches at mealtime and in the dead of night. In total, they spend perhaps four hours in the same room.

The final time he comes to her, her father is on the way. It is just before they are going to release her, trade her for a slim black notebook and the reins to Death's mantle. The guards are outside, and he enters.

He is a skinny boy of eighteen or so. He's all wiry limbs and a kind of strange, untapped fury, energy all bound up and fizzling through his nerves. He's like electricity in the air, and his touch is like static when his hand falls onto Sayu's arm.

"You're older than me, do you know that?"

He is looming over her, looking down, head cocked to one side. Sayu notes, as she always does, that his hair is perfectly cut, a straight line across. Not mafia.

"I didn't know that," she says, though she's guessed. Her voice is dry, hoarse. She coughs.

"Cover your mouth." He smiles wryly. It's funny, she knows, because her arms are tied. He is making a joke. That means he probably won't kill you. Then he says, "Your father is on his way."

"My…father?"

"Yeah. Dad. Soichiro Yagami. Him? Yeah, he's coming to get you." There is a sudden pressure where his palm meets her arm as he propels himself away from her. He takes long, loping strides away from her, the same walk he always uses, paradoxically lazy and energetic all at once. Sayu thinks of him as a coiled spring, desperate to release and just expend all the power tied up inside him, to race and rage and laugh and fly, but forcing himself to be calm, to be slow, to be in control.

She imagines Mello to be at his happiest when he is running, nothing to control and nothing controlling him, feet pounding the ground until it feels like he is taking off.

That, she decided, after their first encounters, is the strangest thing about Mello. He does not belong here, and unlike the rest of her kidnappers, she does not mind thinking about him being happy.

He is different. He paces the edge of the room she is in, circling her, like he's just burning up extra energy. He's crazy, she knows that much. He acts like he is drunk on life, like he believes nothing can touch him, like he is invincible. Like a child, Sayu thinks, like she was when she was a child, running and jumping and not associating the risks with the faraway, foreign concept of death. The other mafia men walk and act like they have conquered death, like they have made themselves invulnerable - Mello, he walks like he always has been, like he doesn't even know he can be hurt.

"Are you going to let him take me home?" she asks, because she can't think of anything else, and his rhythmic pacing is making her dizzy.

"Huh?" Mello draws up short, behind her. Quick, heavy footsteps of leather boots with silver buckles tramp up to her and past her and he whirls around, like he's on a stage. He drops to the ground very suddenly, with his legs splayed and his knees up.

"Are you going to let my father take me home?" she asks again. She does not lower her voice and drop her gaze the way she does when other people here speak to her, or she speaks to them. Because Mello is different.

"Yeah. If he upholds his end of the deal."

Sayu doesn't know what deal he means. She doesn't ask, but Mello, studying her face, smirks a little.

"You have no idea what you're in the middle of, do you?"

Sayu raises her chin. "The Kira investigation," she says. She knows that. "If you're lonely why don't you leave?"

Mello blinks and looks at her. "Where on earth did that come from?"

"I've just been thinking," she says, carefully, selecting the English words. "I don't have that much to do down here."

Mello barks a laugh, and it's an odd sound. Everything about him is so feline - the sleekness of his body, the angles of his eyes, the way he walks, his hair. It is strange to her that his laugh should be so different. "Oh yeah? And what have you been thinking about?"

He's far more light-hearted than he was when they first met. That was only a day or two ago, though, wasn't it? But he seems to have fallen into ease around her, and Sayu thinks she might know why.

"I'm your hostage and you spend time down here talking to me. You complain about the mafia men you don't like and you talk about TV shows. You don't have any friends."

He laughs again. "Sayu, this is the mafia. None of us are friends here."

"Yes," she persists, "but I know the others talk to each other. You don't. You are very, very different to them."

Mello does not laugh this time. Instead, he climbs to his feet, and meanders towards her. "How are you so sure?" he asks, his voice a purr, dropping a few octaves as he leans over her.

"I can tell," she says, and she knows he's trying to intimidate her. She knows she should be frightened. Inexplicably, unbelievably, she isn't. "You want to talk to me because I am…" She frowns, looking for the words. "I don't want to say normal, that is not the right word. I am…adjusted? I have a good life. A happy life. My father is giving you something very important to get me back."

Mello shrugs. "You're worth it, I guess. To him." Despite himself, there is curiosity behind the madness in his eyes.

She ploughs on. "I go out at the weekends and watch movies. I go to shops and there are no guns or bombs or people dying. I have a normal life. And you have never had that."

Something flickers in his eyes. They are a deep, violent blue, like electricity, like the ocean in the middle of a storm, like a tempest. "How would you know something like that?" he murmurs, one hand closing around her shoulder, close to her neck. "You barely know me."

"Because teenage boys with normal lives do not join the mafia and kidnap girls."

Mello looks at her, wide eyed, for a second, before letting out a side-splitting laugh. He leans backwards, away from her, and raises a hand to his head. Sayu frowns. Did she say something stupid?

"Oh, Sayu. I do wish your dear old dad wasn't on the way, because I would love to spend more time with you." And then he's over her again, bending again to bring his face next to hers. "Do you want to know why I've spent so much time down here chatting to a hostage? It isn't because you have a normal life and I want it. It's because of the way you think." He taps her forehead with his forefinger, before running it through her matted hair. She shivers.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…listen to what you just said! That's so simple. Teenage boys with normal lives do not join the mafia. See? It's simple! It's obvious. You don't try to complicate it, you don't try to add things, you don't project, you don't rationalise…" He shakes his head, laughing, and his hand is in her hair. Sayu notices - not for the first time - that his face is desperately, painfully beautiful.

"I don't understand," she says, dubiously.

He smiles, and to her great surprise, there is an alarming degree of fondness behind the smile. "I do like you, you know. I didn't think I would, but - I can't explain it. You're nice. I haven't known someone nice in years. I haven't known someone who just says what they're thinking and doesn't over-complicate things in an even longer time. I like talking to you. Isn't that weird?"

"Yes," Sayu says honestly, because it is. He kidnapped her.

He laughs again and, for a shocking, impossible moment, he is every bit a teenager, young and just enjoying the moment. How did they get here, she thinks, from him slapping her face and throwing food over her? Their conversations had changed, slowly, from her being afraid to speak to him encouraging her to, and him changing from verbally attacking her to enquiring into her comments, her thoughts. It was strange. It was very, very strange. Some of it was rooted in a loneliness she could see in him, as plain as the nose on his face, and some of it, some of it was rooted in something else, something she felt too - a strange kind of churning longing in her stomach that she'd never felt before -

"It is weird," he confirms, looking at her oddly. "But I like you, Sayu Yagami. I really do. I think I will be sad to see you go."

"I can't say the same," she replies, smiling just the smallest bit. "But…I think I am pleased to have met you."

"Even though I kidnapped you?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"Yes. I think so."

And it's strange, it's so strange, that they've got here. Two people born across the globe from each other, pushed together by the machinations of brains and brilliance, sitting here in a dark, dingy little room in a mafia base. This should never have happened, this odd camaraderie, because they are on opposite sides of the fence. They are different people. But, Sayu thinks, Mello is fascinating, every facet of his personality, every shift of his mood. It's like holding a prism up to the sun and seeing a thousand different colours come shattering out. Mello can never be known, she decides, at the same moment she decides that she wants to know him, more perhaps than she wants to know anything else.

He is regarding her with his mad blue eyes. There is something she hasn't seen before in his eyes, but she recognises it. He moves closer, his breath warm on her face. It smells of chocolate. She wonders if he tastes of it, too.

"I'm going to kiss you," he says, as if the realisation has just occurred to him.

Sayu knows she is dirty and probably looks like hell, and hasn't had much of chance to wash since she got here. She probably smells like goodness knows what and here, above her, is this brilliant, blazing boy, like nothing she's ever known before, like fireworks, like fiery rain on icy grass, wanting to kiss her.

He leans forward, suddenly, crushing her in a hard, harsh kiss. It hurts, but Sayu finds herself kissing him back, unable to stop herself. He is more than fire.

He pulls away, looking at her like he's seeing her for the first time. He passes a hand over her head, smoothing her hair.

"Maybe I'll look you up sometime," he says, with a roguish wink. Sayu thinks maybe it's a joke. She thinks maybe it's not. With a final flash of a smile, a final glint of diamonds and leather and tempest and gold, he is gone.

She will probably never see him again.