Sin Eaters;; a person who consumes a ritual meal in order to spiritually take on the sins the deceased.
wc: 6707
warnings: cannibalism, stalking, religious themes, religious manipulation, sexual content (not explicit), drugs, alcohol, dark content in general, no happy ending I donβt like those. Writer Mello, non death note au but i did take some things from canon, incel matt (slighlty) but hes a degenerate, made up backstory, kiss canon goodbye because fanon is more fun.
na: vaguely inspired by killing stalking (so sorry..not really) and that one show called You (never finished it). also on ao3 i would really really appreciate some feedback on this, literally any comment will be greatly enjoyed.
he was positive that his needs, his obsession, could all be traced back to wanting to be in control. the need replayed in his head over and over again, until he was unable to control even himself. His body moved on his own and his mouth reaped the rewards, the over-welling rush of ecstasy. It was comparable to nothing.
his luck however, stopped him from even coming close to finding a meal. every tipsy girl at the bar, every guy with his pants half down, he couldnβt get anyone home with him. no matter what he promised or how he followed through with those promises in the back of his car. nothing.
he was hungry, starving. nothing calmed that raging need inside of him. not when he passed a hundred people on the street, all packed full with everything he wanted.
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anytime matt needed a pick-me-up, he found himself at the convenience store. the one thatβs robbed on the regular, the one that doesnβt id, and the one that has the best liquor thatβs ever blessed his tongue and cursed his liver.
the bottles cluttered the bottom shelf, all the glass dusty because, apparently, heβs the only one causing the shelf to call for a restock.
his favorite thing, by far, besides the cheap prices and the seemingly endless cigarettes, was seeing him.
Matt grabbed the bottle by the neck and stood up, a hand coming to his mouth as he pushed away a smile. His night always went well when he got to see him.
Matt remembered Mello like it was yesterday, but from the looks of it, the time has changed, yesterday felt farther than twenty four hours and today felt slow. That blond hair got a little darker, those green eyes sadder, less angry. Overall, Mello..mellowed out.
Last anyone told him, Mello had attempted suicide, and last report from his little investigators told him that after the attempt xanax became life support. And from the looks of it, his information still held true.
Matt wasnβt sure if Mellow Mells recognized him. If he did, he did a really great job of not showing it. Maybe the dyed red hair made him look like a new person, or the height he gained since running away from home. Maybe the weight he lost or the..he wasnt sure what else changed about him, besides his..hobbies.
He stalked the isles, staying just far away to not look obvious but just close enough to get a good look. He wanted to remember what he was seeing for later. The black jeans, worn boots, black leather jacket, not much changed about him.
he peaked into the small basket, bread, noodles, coffee, chocolate..
boring ass.
He wasnβt exactly sure what he got out of short visits like this, if they were even visits at all. Standing near him in the store, watching him, being nosey wouldnβt get him anywhere.
Curiosity could be the blame. But he would get so much more if he just started a conversation.
The blond turned suddenly, and Matt threw his eyes downward, falling on the snacks that he had walked past countless times. He could feel the burning eyes on him, the same green ones that used to get him in so much trouble back at Wammys house.
If time really was slow, he could stand and watch all day long, but he and the seconds ticking by on his watch both knew that wasn't the case. He left Mello at the end of one of the isles, and made a beeline for the front counter, the usual overweight bald dude waiting there like always. Matt fished the money out of his pocket, placing a ten on the counter, his heart racing. He glanced behind him, Mello nowhere in sight.
βThought you laid off the ecstasy, my man.ββ
His eyes flicked back to the man behind the counter, god what was his name? Simon, Solonβ¦Sid? Fuck he couldnt remember. βWhat?ββ the words going in one ear and out the other. It was hard to hear with his mind racing, every encounter past and present with mello replaying over and over.
He wanted more than this. The pointless stalkingβ¦keeping tabs. He preferred to say he was just keeping tabs on an old friend. Nothing more and nothing less.
Sid shook his head, βThought suicide tuesday would have gotten you this time.ββ He laughed to himself, and handed back the correct amount of change. βDont go dying, no one else will buy this shit liquor.ββ
Matt forced a smile, dropping the change in the plastic tip jar, and grabbing the paper bag. βYeah..yeah. See ya.ββ He pushed the door open hard, his hands shaking as he tried to reach for his car door. He hadn't felt this feeling, this high since his first kill, back when he was young.
He could feel his entire body shake as he sat in the car, his head pressed against the wheel as his hands gripped his thighs. He had to stop. He could look suspicious, like another druggie that hung around this place. He peaked over the wheel when he heard the doorbell ring again, Mello walking out, his pale fingers rubbing the rosary that hung around his neck.
He was excited. He would be in control again. That voice in the back of his head, the one that desired, needed, lusted and angered would all be silent soon. Soon he would be given what he wanted by the hand of God.
He spent the next several hours, staring off in the dark, the little pills he kept for nights like these working wonders. He always did his best work loaded. Then after that the next two days trying to make up his mind on how he would go about this. Part of him favored a calmer approach, saying someone in the convenience store next time he saw him. Or maybe βbumpingβ into him on the street sometime. Or maybe he would make mello work for it.
He sunk into his bed, the pillow slighting sinking too in between the mattress and the bed frame. His tv blasted music at him, his video game long since paused so he could try to think this through.
Matt controlled in small ways: surveillance, video games, planning raids and busts. It made him feel something again, like he was still in rebellion against the professors at Wammy's House. Though, thinking about it, he never attempted something so ambitious as controlling Mello (not completely at least.) Not when the hot headed diva refused to even take suggestions.
He had read Mello's novel, or his report, whatever the hell it turned out to be. He knew that the case had captivated his interest, plenty enough to write about it. He wanted his own book too. And at the very end, he would finish it. Matt didn't like to write, but he did like stories.
He laughed to himself, kicking the blankets off of him. He was so hot, burning up. He rolled over on his stomach, his teeth grinding together as he laid there. He wanted his story to be one that would be the read of a century. He would befriend mello again, find an excuse, anything to get close enough to touch, then he would say whatever it took to get him to trust him again.
For the second act, he would make everything so believable, he would even fool himself.
And finally, after all his hard work, he would get his feast, and the book would end with matts final remarks on mello.
His shifted, the weight feeling just right in all the right places. If mello were here he was sure this would be easier. Or if he could reach over and grab his phone off the nightstand, the endless porn feed from twitter would solve all his problems right now.
He groaned as he stretched, the phone a fingertips length away. He snagged it, and immediately unlocked it, going for the video he knew that would always be his savior, one with an actor that resembled mello paired with a girl he found tolerable at best.
He didnt feel shame for what he was doing anymore, not when there was no one to judge him. Not when he knew mello was thinking about him, or at the very least could be thinking about him, in any sense.
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βI see you everywhere.ββ Mello deadpanned, his green eyes glaring. βYou following me?ββ
Oh he had no idea how far this all went. He had no idea how he sat for hours outside his apartment complex in a stolen car, illegal in fifteen states, just to hopefully catch a glimpse, or how he read his blog posts over and over again, under several different accounts just incase mello caught on. How he logged every movement in his journal or how he had so many, so many, pictures stored under his bed in a shoe box. Or he did and he was playing dumb, both of which Matt loved. βGods plan, yknow? Brings people together.ββ
For a split second, maybe less than that, Matt knew that had some effect. Out of all the emotions he didnt understand and hardly cared about, he recognized that look, that mental pull, the questioning. It was nothing short of beautiful.
βReally now?ββ
βYep,ββ Matt said, resting his elbow on the boxes of over processed food. He eyed Mello, pretending to figure something out. βYou good? Looking a littleβ¦ββ he trailed off, it didnt take a genius like himself or mello to know something was off.
Mello rolled his eyes, βFine.ββ He said, taking his case of beer and heading for the front counter.
Matt followed, the shoulder high row of shelves separating them. βI'm just asking, Mells. Just asking..were in the same boat here.ββ When there was no answer, not even a glare, he continued. βWhat is it? Prescription?ββ
βFuck off.ββ He put the case on the counter, Sid looking between the two of them.
Matt smiled, pushing the goggles back on his head. βOh so it is,ββ he asked, teasingly. His hand made quick work of stopping Mello from offering his card to the card reader.
βI got it,ββ Matt said, tapping his own card. The payment was through quickly, as if his card would never decline. It was the only perk he found when it came to having parents, no matter how dead. All the money was left to him, every single penny was his. βNow its only fair you tell me.ββ Or if by some weird situation the money did reach an end, his odd jobs would supply enough for him to get through life.
Mello only scoffed, ignoring Sid asking if he wanted a receipt, and waked out. Matt felt over the moon. βMello dont be soβ¦ββ he couldn't think of anything to rhyme with mello. βDont be so mean.ββ
The door almost fell on Matt as he slipped out right behind Mello. βDont be like that. I miss you,ββ He said, stopping a few feet from Mello, the blond turning around, disgust written all over his face.
βWhat, did we break up or something?ββ Mello sighed, before shaking his head, βI dont have time for your shit.ββ
Mattβs jaw dropped. βWe did breakup!ββ He said dramatically. βyou just ghosted me like a bad hookup!β His mouth was moving faster than his mind. βCan we talk it out, make up,ββ maybe make out, βand be friends again?β
that wasnβt exactly the truth, but it definitely resembled it in Mattβs mind. It had happened years ago, when they were nearing their twenties. Matt had just turned 18, and already feeling the effects of one too many cigarettes being inhaled into his lungs. During that time, he didnβt entirely regret following his friend overseas and starting a new life. But he had been under the impression that the loyalty and team they had in England also extended here in the US.
He had been dead wrong though, and so had been the girl he took his anger out on the first time he felt betrayed. He truly believed that respect was earned and never deserved, and he thought he had earned mellos respect. but he was wrong, for the first time in his life he was wrong because he genuinely was, not because he half assed himself or didnβt care to actually try.
After the breakup, even though there was never anything between them sexually or romantically other than an odd friendship that found its way through shared frustration and anger (though one was angrier than the other.) matt didnβt know what to do with himself. Killing that girl, blonde hair and green eyes, it made him feel something mello sparked within him only once when they first became real friends.
Despite never eating that girl, first kill nerves really getting to him, he fantasized about it. He cut her up, scratched her skin, watching the blood trickle to the surface.
Mello rolled his eyes, walking to his bike without looking back, and Matt let him. Because he planted the idea in the blonde head, it was there. He just needed the idea to sit, sink in a little, fully flesh itself out and then happen.
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the compulsion came from somewhere and the obsession followed. it rooted itself deep in his mind and stuck through his heart, the inability to take control ruined him, from the inside out until the only thing left was a shallow shell of who he used to be.
it had to be a punishment, each and every thought brought him back to his sins, how likely it would be he would go straight to hell, not even purgatory would waste its time on him. mother Mary wouldnβt pray at the time of his death and the Saint gave him the cold shoulder.
he needed a way out. living his life in fear, worrying and stressing was hell already. he wanted to free himself. to feel the heat of hell or see the gates of heaven. he needed to know and he needed to know now.
just because he didnβt take part in detective work anymore, didnβt mean he didnβt want to be the best at something. He craved it, more than anything he could possible think of. He knew what was holding him back, the white piles and the delicately wrapped green, he fell into it right when matt left him. He didnβt realize that everyone was as annoying as Near was.
After realizing being alone was better than being around people who were constantly trying to compete with him, beat him, challenge him, he turned to isolation. Controlling the scene similar to how L did back before him untimely death. He sat in his home, sometimes a club if he found he could handle the silence, and told people what to do, when to jump and how high, who to kill and how.
His work put him on top. No one could affect him with meer words. He was better than that. Or he at least convinced himself of that until Matt came along again.
He knew that face, but his paranoia told him otherwise. He knew those eyes looked familiar, the mischievous glint. He told himself to pay more attention, he told himself it meant something.
He refused to pace, his back met the couch hours ago and he had yet to move. He should have known, should have!
This was Gods way of punishing him, telling him to listen more, to watch. Matt had to be right, this was Gods plan. This wouldnβt be done for any reason, there was always a reason.
God took Matt out of his life because he needed to be humbled, to be shown he wasnβt anything special, and it worked (kind of.) it really only elevated his fears, making them so big he didnβt leave his bed sometimes, kept his hands clutched around the rosary or glued to the Bible.
He sighed, falling back on the cushion. The ceiling fan spun slowly, around and around and around.
If he tried hard enough he could locate Matt. He could ask what he meant by what he said. He was smart, but not smart enough to decode Matt when he was talking nonsense with no deeper meaning because sometimes things meant nothing when spoken from an idiot like matt.
His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him out of his trace. βNEW FOLLOWER!!!ββ notification coming up, the rest blurring out. He brought the phone to the ground, and looked at it from above. He prided himself for his amassed following with his shitty writing, though he would never reveal anything to anyone about it as long as he may live.
βNEW FOLLOWER!!! BB.ROADRUNNERβ
He stared at the name, no amusement was brought to him by it. There was no doubt in his mind that it was Matt, and he wasnt even trying to be slick about it. He felt the anger build up his chest, a tell tale sign that his only real joy in the world, his beloved abused prescription was wearing off.
He clicked the profile, it was empty and new, freshly made just to antagonize mello. Another notification, βBB.ROADRUNNER SENT YOU A MESSAGE!!!β
bb. Replied to a post : i knew you wrote but i didnt know you took it this seriously. Didn't take you for a blog person.
Awfully bold for a person with an extensive criminal background. He closed the dm, he wasnt going to give in. though he wanted to. What if this was the way god was trying to introduce matt back into his life. Everything happened for a reason..
bb. replied to a post: i have a novel idea, if you're interested.
Mihael made the mistake of clicking the notification. He was not interested.
He wanted nothing from matt.
Mihael watched the bubbles appear then disappear, then show up again.
bb: no? Okay how about we talk about another book? How about the death note?
oh this guy, it enraged him.
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For some reason, Mihael let this go on for weeks. Every other day he woke up to a new message, all about different things, never ever going back to the death note. And no matter how many times he utilized the block button, which was often, another account showed up.
Mihael wasn't sure what he was doing anymore. He had, in the back of his mind, desired change. Wanted to leave whatever hell of a life he hardly had in England and create something new, something solitary. He didn't want to feel sick to his stomach every time he got out of bed, he didnt want to bash in his head every time he fell one point behind Near on an assignment he hated. He craved everything he would get in England, and from the looks of it, wouldnt get it in america either.
In the beginning of this, after the bb.roadrunner account fell silent, he stopped replying to the new ones. He ignored temptation and deleted them from his phone. Though more recently, he thought very little of the temptation that was pulling him in. he wanted to indulge. The conversations were innocent, nothing that he would hate himself for later on.
His replies were dry, so when he faced God and was asked why he was doing this, he could say that he put in minimal effort, even if it was taking a lot of it to be as boring as he possibly could.
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Curiosity killed the cat; matt knew this. But it was so tempting to tempt it, to see what would happen if he did things sometimes. He could only imagine how Kira felt when he used the death note, he would only imagine how he would feel if he used it.
He knew Mello either wanted the death note and was trying to get it, or had it already.
Mello wouldnβt tempt fate, he wouldnβt play God when he so carefully worshipped one already. However, matt answered to no god, to deity, nothing. He would tempt fate and use the death note however Mello wanted him too.
It was oddly simple to get into the databases he needed, the Americans, even with the help of a Brit, were still slow at the end of the day. Hole after hole, weak security followed by what he covered up as bad coding. It was easy to get in and get out without being noticed, copy the information off of a computer belonging to someone under, what he was positive to be an alias, as GABRIEL SILAS.
Matt commended Gabriel for being the messenger he needed in his times of true, lust filled need, but also felt a little sorry. If it was that easy to get the info, he couldnβt have been that good at his job.
Which made matt believe this was a decoy. A fake set up by Near for this exact reason. It didnβt matter though, he had the information there, true or false, planted or genuine.
From everything he read, close to a hundred files, all massive, he learned that for some reason, the death note had left japan. L was losing at this, and even though he never found himself competing with the freak detective, he felt some sort of competitiveness build up in him.
If he went about this correctly, he could give mello all the right information he was too blind to see. He could sort everything out how he wanted without leaving his apartment. But leaving meant not seeing, and he had eyes, no matter how bad, and they were meant to see that perfect blond.
Matt bought a printer that night. And if anything in the world would happen each and everytime, more reliably than the morning or the night, it would be issues with the printer. The ink was full, the paper was crisp and nothing close to jammed, and yet, it still wasnt working. βThis fucking thing,ββ Matt whispered, muttered to himself as he stood over the printer. Kicking it was next up on his list of things to try if it didnt work again when he plugged it back inβ¦again.
It beeped, before the selection screen came in for the third time now. Matt selected the correct optionsβ¦and, it worked! He sighed, even tech geniuses would struggle with printers. It was inevitable.
He sat on the floor right next to it, eyeing it, hoping to intimidate it into working until he was finished. The printer spit out paper after paper, all warm and perfectly printed, and he stuck them all directly into the manilla folder. Mello would love this birthday gift, (it was no where near his birthday.)
It was close to five am by the time he was done. He had taken all the papers out countless times, reorganized them, addin paperclips and notes here and there. Everything he thought could be useful went onto those papers, even if it was obvious or would be obvious.
It had to be perfect.
He stood up off the carpet floor once he figured himself done. He dropped the folder down on the coffee table, his arms stretching above his head with a groan. It was time for something of his own, his own celebration.
Matt dug one of his cards from his wallet, a half hole-punched rewards card for a smoke shop, and chopped the tiny white lines until they were to his liking. Three of them, one for each detective he could name. He rolled up his dollar, the funny looking american one he wasn't sure if he liked the design of or not, and helped himself. Each line sends him back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling with a small shiver before going right back at it.
He left the dollar on the table and traded it for the folder. He grabbed his keys from his jacket pocket and headed down the stairs. It was visit time, he only hoped mello had learned to become a morning person.
He shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he waited, the folder under his arm as he looked around. Mello wasnt answering the door. He looked behind him. That black bike was here, so where was its owner.
βWhy are you here?ββ
The sudden voice startled Matt, looking over with wide eyes, before smiling. βBrought you something youll like.ββ He said, taking the folder in his hand and extending it out. βWorked on it just for you.ββ
βI dont want that.ββ
Exasperated, Matt rolled his eyes. βYou dont even know what it is, Mells.ββ
βFuck off.ββ Mello pushed past Matt and unlocked the door. Matt quickly forced himself in behind, before mello would protest it physically.
βYou want beat Near or not?ββ
Hot anger flashed across Mellos face, pure rage.
βWhat do you want out of this? Do you want to be a Saint? We gotta get you preforming some miracles if you want that, Mells. I think killing Kira would be a great first start.ββ Matt putt the folder into Mellos hands. βIm not asking you to be the next Augustine, but I'm asking you to help me write this book.ββ
Despite the plethora of time he had speaking to Mello online, he was struggling right now. He didnt prepare his words as well as he had wanted to. Though the look on Mellos face was akin to the one back at the store, how his words had pulled him in. But this time, there was anger there, deep within.
βGet out of my house.ββ Mello spoke through his teeth.
Matt shrugged. βFine, fine. But think it over okay?ββ He reached for the dorknob, before looking over his shoulder with a small smile, βtext me later?ββ
Matt did infact no receive a text later, or for the next serval days. Not until almost a full two weeks had passed since that day. A notification came acoss his phone in the dead of night, just when he had started thinking he would have to try again.
Mihael keehl. Half of what you gave me is fake
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It took nearly six months for Mihael to get his hands on the death note. And when he actually had it, he didn't want to touch it for himself. His lackeys, the men he had little to no respect for, the men whose lives he would throw away in a heartbeat for his own when the right drugs were flowing through his system, would use it for him.
The first test had been successful, the only downside was that damned shinigami. The second test had been successful too, the only downside was that Mail found out.
Bb. i knew you could do it. So, does it work like the rumors are saying?
It pissed him off how easily Matt was able to get under his skin, how quickly he fuse burned and he snapped. He left the message on read for hours, unsure how to even answer, unsure if he even wanted to answer.
You tell me.
The thought of it working freaked him out. If shinagamis were real, what did this mean for the basis of Christianity, Catholicism? The thing he had based his life around for the last several years. It was the very things that consumed him, and now when faced with the unfamiliar, his beliefs began to crumble.
HIs fears grew, fear of god, fear of not fearing enough.
His phone went off too quickly.
Bb. I have an idea of what it's about.
Mihael ignored him again. His attention turned fully to the computer screen in front of him. He had started recording his day to day life now that he had the death note in his possession. Adding more pages to the collection that would never see the light of day.
He had many thoughts about Matt. One two many to be comfortable.
Tonight specially, the overwhelming dread and doom that over came him made its way into his work. The weight in his chest, the heaviness in his bones. He feared for the worst, something would happen. God's wrath would be unleashed and it would target him once again.
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The death note in his hands didn't feel real. It was a game, a hoax. His first thought, the first action without a plan, was to seal the fate of the man he would travel to the ends of the earth for: Mihael Keehl.
He went to the end of the book, where its pages were empty, and would be empty for a long time, and tore out the last page. He wasn't entirely sure if the papers still worked within the magical rules set in place if they were out of their bindings. But it was worth a shot.
Mihael Keehl will die by the hands of Mail Jeevas.
He smiled, the ink beautifully etched across the paper. It was complete. It was bound to happen now. Dreams would come true, stars would collide, the universe would be complete. Matt would ensure that Mello and him were the same by the end of this. Mello would never be able to leave again.
He slipped the book back where he had found it, exactly how he had found it, and left undetected. He drove in silence the seventeen minutes back to his apartment, climbed the twenty three steps back to the floor he lived on, and then another thirty eight back to his door.
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Mihael stood in front of the shelf, the dust on his bible missing. The dust had been a personal reminder, or maybe more of a personal attack, that he was all a lukewarm believer. But now, with the dust close to gone, and the death note not in the same position he had left it. He knew something was wrong.
Had Matt ventured into the apartment? Or had it been someone else, someone sent by Near or Kira himself? Or maybe it went deeper than that, maybe his lackeys had gotten smarter, gained more awareness.
Hesitantly, he reached for the death note, and flipped through its pages, the spine cracking.
Years of analyzing, years of detective work was the only reason he noticed the page ripped out clean.
His heart went cold. Someone had been here. Someone was going to kill him.
He set the book down on the shelf gently. Was he being watched? Did they want a reaction from him? He stood there, straighter than he was a second ago, his fingers tracing the cross that hung across his chest.
Punishment. That is what this was.
He hummed, his eyes focusing and unfocusing. Something had to be done. A prayer wouldnβt fix this. It was too late. A quick trip to the living room would solve his anxiety. His one true friend would be in there always waiting.
Slowly, he stepped back everything he did, every movement calculated, unnatural feeling but hopefully natural looking. He left his room, shutting the door behind him.
That room was something else. Contaminated. Dirty. Unsafe. Unpure. One of those worked.
In the living room he sat on the couch, closer to the edge then he normally would have sat. He lifted the top of the table, revealing the compartment, and took out a small baggie.
Fifteen minutes of hell passed, he stays as still as stone, his breathing almost shallow. When it started to work, he felt himself relax, his shoulder dropping, his eyes drooping.
His hand found its way to his phone, lazily discarded on the cushion next to him. His fingers moved almost on auto pilot, tapping and swiping until he was face to face with a number belonging to Matt. He was almost certain it wasnβt his main one, despite everything there were even some things Matt wouldnβt be lazy about.
He normally would have felt a panic build up as his fingers moved across the keyboard, a slight tinge of fear and guilt. Though from the number of little white pills he swallowed down, he felt numb, relaxed.
mihael: come over.
seconds turned to minutes, he sat there watching nothing, hoping and praying he did and didnβt see those little chat bubbles appear.
bb: omw
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The room had to be rotting - the stench slipped underneath the door, and down the hall. Mostly bad weed, maybe something stronger, something worse if Matt had to take any guesses. It stuck to his clothes, the peeling paint, the shag rug and the ugly couch.
It was hard to believe Mello was still alive in there, one of his episodes forcing him to the bed, sometimes the love seat, other times the floor.
His highs only lasted so long, the rush and excitement keeping him up for days only to come plummeting down and slamming hard onto the ground, So hard not even the violent video games or the porn he had to offer could help.
Matt was familiar with this game, the running in loops, the pattern. It had been done countless times before. Mello would feel like he was dying, Mattβs heard it all before, he would contemplate suicide, think about turning his gun on himself or slitting his wrists.
Though this time, something about their routine was different. They both knew what was coming, matt was sure of it.
Matt slowly cracked the door open, just enough to peak through and gage the situation. Mello was where Matt had last seen him, wrapped up in the covers, his hair barely peaking out.
βMello,β Matt said and softly shut the door behind him as he entered. His words were so soft, so gentle, like he truly cared, like he didnβt cause this mess in the first place. He crossed the space, sitting at the foot of the bed, his hand coming to rest on mellow calves. βYou wanna talk about it?β
There wasnβt anything to talk about. Matt couldnβt relate to the struggles of caring what a god thought of him. And even if Matt could understand, to any kind of extent, Mello would still remain shut, trapped within the inner workings of his mind.
Mello didnβt move.
βI can help you.β Matt said, laying back on the bed, his hand still resting on his leg. βYknow that I can. Iβll take your sins away. Iβll take them so you can go to heaven.β
Matt wasnβt sure if he believed in any kind of God, but he liked the idea of it, though he didnβt like it enough to believe. All he wanted to do was make mello believe that he could help.
Mello moved his leg, curling up away from Matt.
Matt frowned, tugging gently as the blanket that hid his friend away. βMells you know Iβm right about this.β
Matt moved, sitting up and looking down at his friend before pulling mello over off his side and onto his back. He quickly moved, sitting on mellos stomach, pulling the blanket off his face. βItβs right in there. Let me have it and youβll be free.β He said, tapping a finger on Mellos chest.
Those green eyes stared up at him, nothing but fear and sadness behind them. Exactly what Matt expected, what he wanted.
βYouβre a fucking liar.β
Matt shook his head, care behind his lies but lust just a little deeper. βIβd do this for you. Iβd do anything for you. Let me use the death note for you.β
Mello sighed, covering his hands with his face.
Matt sighed too, almost mockingly, rolling off him and laying shoulder to shoulder. He had known that he hid the paper well enough, that it wouldnβt be found because it wasnβt even here. It wasnβt in his room, or his apartment. It wasnβt in his car or anywhere Mello would find it.
βJust tell me where it is.β Mello whispered, his green eyes wandering, full of something.
βI donβt have it.β Matt lied again. He was always lying. βIt was never even real Mello. I never wrote your name down.β
βYouβre such a lair.β
Matt only hummed, rolling his eyes.
Mello shot up, putting all his weight on Matt as his fists balled his shirt. βYoure going to kill me! Where is it?ββ
The nerve of some people. Truly, it was getting old, annoying even. βYouβre being ridiculous.β His words were cold, flat. His hand came up and gave a playful tug on the rosary that hung above his face, βif youβre so worried why donβt you ask God for help, Mells?β
Another tug, this time less playful, βIβll make it easy for you.β He other hand pushed Mellos hair behind his ear, β I would never write your name down. I would only do what you tell me to do with it. Iβd write every name but yours,β he whispered. βIf you know someone has your name down, let me save you before itβs too late.β
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Disgustingly vile and undeservingly beautiful, it was a sight to be hold as he looked at the blood on his pale shaky hands. No god, no matter how forgiving, could return him to anything remotely pure. Not when the god matt knew, or at least pretended to know for the sake of mello, was angry, bitter and regretful.
And however the bible ended was none of his business.
Never again could he consider being gentle. He could continue to tear the skin away from bones and let the blood drip from his lips. Never again would he be alone.
Mello's voice was on repeat, something about something, this and that, anything about everything. He wasn't listening, the words overtaken by those rushes that coursed through his entire body, excited him. Gave rise to the manic that lived in his brain.
He was shaking horribly, not just his hands anymore. His legs ached from sitting on them for so long. He took in a breath, and let it out labored. He set the part of flesh, whatever part is was, he couldnt remember down softly, like a dog returning a bone to its owner, and stood up. He stumbled back, hitting the wall with a thud. He wiped his face, warm blood smearing on his cheek.
Mello wasn't talking anymore. Why wasn't he talking anymore? Mello was supposed to continue talking.
Matt laughed, his hand reaching for the door knob and sluggishly leaving the body in the dark bedroom. His chest hurt, it hurt bad.
The words were stuck on loop in his head, whispers about dying like a dog, about how Mello was an old name. Matt didnβt understand the meaning, not when his mind was racing.
He limped down the hall way, bracing the wall with every step, bloody drag marks as he went along. His sock was damp, the sleeve of his jacket wet. He felt sick, so sick.
He collapsed down before he fully reached the kitchen, he could still feel the itchy living room carpet under him where his shirt rode up a little, but his head hit the cool tile of the kitchen.
Would this count as falling victim to suicide Tuesday? Would whatever his name was be right?
Matt laughed again, using the last of what he had in him to turn over on his back. He was dying, he was sure of it.
It was satisfying, fulfilling in a way he wouldnβt be able to explain to anyone. Especially not the cops when they arrived in a few days, following the complaints of a fowl smell coming from the apartment.
They wouldnβt understand him or his reasons.
His parents might though, if they were watching him from some higher place he would never reach. Perhaps L was watching, or Beyond Birthday.
Or maybe there was no one at all. And he would die right there on the floor all alone, just as he knew he would from the very beginning.
He had no regrets. He would do it all again. The running away, the drugs, temporary cult presence. Everything.
Everything meant nothing to him when he got what he wanted in the end.
I think it'd be do funny if Sayu met L, absolutely adored him, and decided to start dressing in a more alt/emo fashion. Why is this funny, you may ask?
Your evil boyfriend is corrupting your little sister, and that's nothing you can do to stop him. This is the happiest Sayu has ever been.
GOD I LOVE THIS UPDATE TO IT OMG. I imagine L would be going in that store so many times pretending to be working on a case. Near is helping, but L seems to take Near for a fool, because Near totally knows what's going on and is waiting to see how long it takes for L to realize Near knows that L just has a crush on this employee and is making up reasons to go back in the store, working up courage to try to actually start a conversation with him. Meanwhile, Near is getting annoyed and feels kinda bad for Light and the other employees.
Mello works at the store too and comes home and says "What's all this I hear about a weird customer bothering my coworker? He said there was a total freak who came into the store like ten times getting individual items. You guys have any idea what that's about? Because I only know three total freaks who fit that description, and one of them is currently institutionalized. The other two are in this room. Anyone care to explain?"
Near would adamantly claim he discouraged L from doing this. Mello would say "I don't really care for Light, but you're really pissing him off."
L would play stupid and say "Is that his name? It's none of his business what I do in the store."
Lololol in accordance with protocol Light asks if L would like a bag for 25 cents during checkout and he says yes every time until finally he's got like 3 items left on his list and Light doesn't bother to ask and L goes, for data for the case not because he likes seeing Light frustrated, "oh I actually don't want a bag for this one"
It's at this point that Light has two options: jump the counter, or go on break much earlier than his manager wants him to in order to scream in the walk-in fridge by the loading bay
Conveniently for us Mello happens to work in the loading bay
I COME BACK TO TUMBLR AND YALL ARE WRITING THE BACKBONES OF AN ENTIRE FIC IN NOTES I LIVE FOR THIS
Light: Do you⦠want a bag for that?
L: No. Iβll carry it.
Light, internally:
(Of course. Of course he doesnβt want a bag this time. Why would he? He probably enjoys pissing me off. He thrives on it. A man who drinks sugar sludge for breakfast and crouches like a malformed gargoyleβof course he wants to walk home clutching a single onionβ)
(Heβs doing this on purpose. Heβs testing me. Heβs seeing how far he can push me before Iβ)
L, meanwhile, is staring at Light. Completely serene.
Hi! This is not a submission, but I saw your post about games and I've had this idea for tag game for a while but I'm too shy to start it, and I think it fits your blog:
The first one starts a story (can be either original or a fanfic) and tag some people that they know are writers (and in the fandom if it's a fanfic); the next one continues the story and tag more people, etc (they should check to continue from the last part so it doesn't branch out).
In the end you have a whole story by a lot of people.
The chilly and hard wind howled in the darkness of the night, offering a breath of fresh air in the quite warm darkness of the last few days of summer. An unusually foggy figure walked through the now asleep village, a trail of small imprints following her steps appearing from nowhere if not thin air; some big and heavy, some small and light; but strangest of them all was the mask the woman wore over her face.
The mask curled over her ears, strings worn from wear, threads hanging loose and falling over her jaw in untidy waves. She splayed her fingers over her cheeks as if to press it in further.
And then she turned to face it.
Moon peeling its eye upon the villageβ illuminating them bothβshe gazed upon the withering fog in all its wraithlike glory. It halted its pursuit and opened its gaping maw to speak.
where do i even start !! i 'grew up' on earlier 5sos songs so i'm a lil more acquainted with those (although i am patiently waiting for the new album, kudos to ur fan username)
lover of mine, she looks so perfect, teeth, youngblood, heartbreak girl, amnesia, not ok, me myself and i, killer queen,
all of them basically :')))) theyre all so 2017 sunset nostalgia coded. such euphoria<3
