Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or Harry Potter.
The clock ticked quietly from the kitchen, and because of the peace I could actually hear it for once. I hadn't known it made noise. It just goes to show how rarely there was quiet in this house. Matt and I were usually screaming at each other, or I was screaming at a minion, or I was throwing something. I'm aware of how loud I cause life to be. It's pretty hard to miss.
It was very late, and Matt was falling asleep as he lay in my arms on our decrepit couch. He had never been good at staying up late unless he was playing video games, and now he was warm because I was holding him, which was pretty much guaranteed to knock him out. It wasn't looking good for extended consciousness, but I didn't mind. I had always loved holding him as much as he loved being held. He's beautiful when he's asleep, although I guess he doesn't really look much different than he does when he's awake. Calm, slightly calmer. I'm biased, I guess. I always think he's beautiful.
We were watching Sakura TV, the volume way, way down, the lights off in our apartment. The only illumination came from the screen, and the soft, flickering white/blue glare touched his skin like moonlight, erasing all the small blemishes and making him on the outside as I had always believed him to be on the inside: pure, innocent, and breathtakingly beautiful.
Apparently I was feeling poetic at the moment. But he really was beautiful.
I leaned around and put my mouth gently, chastely to his. His lips were soft, warm. They tasted like smoke and the Chinese food we had had for dinner, but more, they tasted like him. I felt them turn up into a smile beneath mine and he made a small sound of surprise and contentment. That little sound said it all: 'I didn't see that coming,' 'That's nice,' and 'I love you.' I guess the quiet ones are just the people who don't need to say much.
I rested my chin on top of his head, careful not to dig the bone into him. He wouldn't tell me if I was digging my chin into him, so I had to make sure myself that it wasn't. I can't always control my words (sometimes I say the dumbest things to him, the cruelest, stupidest...), but I can control my actions, and I've always tried to never hurt him. He's not weak, but I'm stronger, and with the life I live, sometimes it's hard to turn off the violence quickly enough. Sometimes my first instinct is to shoot. I've... pulled a gun on him a few times. Never, ever on purpose though. Always as a reflex. I'm always able to stop myself before I can fire it, though. I don't know what I'd do if I killed him. I'd probably turn right around and put the gun in my mouth.
He wouldn't approve of that thought. He'd caught me trying, once, and made me promise not to do it again. Between that time and now, he'd given me a reason to live, and I haven't even considered it again. Kill myself and make him cry? No.
He knows it's an accident when I whip out my gun, and he always just stands there calmly and waits for me to put it away. That usually ends our argument because I spend the next five minutes at least holding him and apologizing and kissing him and begging him to understand, which he always has. If I could be less of a monster for him, I would. If he'd be better off without me, I'd leave him. But he needs me as much as I need him.
Sakura TV was always garbage, but lately at least it had been accurate garbage. Matt and I were both pretty good with Japanese, but the reporters were talking too fast for either of us to keep up one hundred percent. We conferred occasionally and it usually worked out that whatever I missed, he got, and whatever he missed, I got. It wasn't rocket science, anyway; the video coverage pretty much explained itself. Some of Kira's stupid minions were rioting downtown, burning anti-Kira books. Two people had already been trampled to death and the fire had caught to a building. It was a mess.
Matt, so alive and real in my arms, cuddled closer to me. "I'm surprised the Death Eaters thought to burn the books," he mused sleepily. "Doesn't seem like something Kira would approve of, even if they're anti-Kira books. But I dunno."
I blinked hard in an effort to not laugh. I love Matt. I do. And I believe I've made it clear that he means more to me than anything. It's just... he's such a fanboy that sometimes I want to beat him over the head with his manga. Or, in this case, his dog-eared copy of Harry Potter.
Okay, yes, I knew what Death Eaters were. He'd made me see the movies (begged me with those puppy eyes until I'd agreed), so I knew the basics of the fandom. And, yeah, the association was there. I could see where he was getting it.
Nonetheless, I wanted to hear him say it. He was cute when he was only half-awake. "Death Eaters?" I prompted him quietly. I ran my fingers through his deep red hair, loving him, loving the feel of him, the pressure of his body in my arms.
Sakura TV had turned away from the live coverage of the book-burning and was now focused on a newscaster. They were talking more slowly now, and I could catch most of what they were saying, although I ignored it.
"Yeah. Voldemort's followers," he protested. "Think about it. Voldemort killed half-bloods, right? Just 'cause they're half-bloods. An' Kira kills criminals just 'cause they're criminals. So Kira's followers'r like Death Eaters."
I held him tighter. I just couldn't get our bodies close enough. I wanted to be one person so that not even physics could come between us. "I guess," I smiled into his hair. I stayed there for a while because I didn't want to move. His hair smelled like smoke, but it's a smell you get used to, especially when it's the smell you associate with the one you love. Sometimes I'd whip around in the streets when I smelled cigarette smoke, expecting to see Matt.
He sighed, a long, contented escape of breath. Breath that smelled like sweet and sour chicken, his favorite. "Good thing we're muggles," he mumbled, burrowing in closer to me, the side of his face pressed against my heart.
Matt's eyes were closed. He probably didn't even know he was talking when he continued. "If we stay out of his way, Voldemort won't kill us."
I assumed he meant Kira and translated it as such.
"... Yeah," I agreed quietly.
He didn't respond. I realized he had finally given in to sleep, and another smile touched my lips before I could stop it.
I turned off the TV. I now sat in complete darkness, but I didn't want to get up and risk waking him. I shifted a bit in my seat until I was at least not completely vertical, and, using Matt's head as a pillow, I closed my eyes. The smile faded slowly from my lips.
I'd tell him about my plan to kidnap Takada in the morning.