"Lullaby"
The music played loudly in Nate's head. It drowned out the voices.
"I'll kill you," the woman whispered into soft white curls. "I'll kill you for what you've done to me. For what you've done to my body."
She used to keep him in the closet when the men came through the kitchen. The creaky closet door did much to block the light, but little to shadow the music. He heard it all.
He heard the guttural bass tones and grunts, he heard the poison soprano sing a tuneless lullaby, and he heard the screamed chorus.
He heard music.
Until the beat changed, and the chorus rang louder, steeper, shriller.
That was the day Nate River arrived at Wammy's. They left him lost and silent, with a new name and the music -- the music.
A red-haired teenager approached him. "You think I'm here, don't you?" he asked, leaning in close.
Near blinked back, impassive.
"Hah, you really think I exist." Then he spun on his heel and strode away.
Near watched him quietly has he crossed the room coming to stand proudly before a tall blond boy. He watched him lean in slowly and whisper conspiringly. He watched the taller of the two deck the other.
"Yup. I think you exist," he said, before helping the laughing teenager to stand.
These were the first words Near heard Mello speak, and this was the first time the music stopped.
The silence shocked him.
--
Sometimes, the music would get too loud. These were the times when Near would settle close to Mello, and let his deranged voice and insane words stop the music, quiet the voices.
"I'll kill you."
And then, one day, Mello said that, too, when they had both fought their way to the top, and Near had come out one better.
New distractions, puzzles, bright toys, colour --
Because Mello wasn't around anymore, and oh God that was his mother's lullaby, and he couldn't listen anymore, and --
Small hands shook as the pieces fit neatly, easily into order, and the chorus tore through his mind. The piece, small and white, slipped from his fingers. He scrambled to his feet and ran because he had to move, but his mind -- oh, he was losing it.
He scampered through Wammy's, hard white walls mocking dark closet door that covered the light, but never the music, no, never the music.
He collapsed into a body, then. A tall, thin body with blond hair and angry eyes.
"Near, what the fu --?"
"The music," he whispered, choking on his words. He didn't use words very often, because they were so weak compared to the rhythms and beats and perfectly phrased lyrics; that was true communication.
"Near," Mello was pushing at his shoulders, only just level with his chest. "Near, get off me."
He hadn't realized until now that his fingers were curled hard into a black sweater. "N-no. T-talk to me."
"I've got nothing to say to you, Near. Get off."
"Please."
"Tch. 'Please'? Nice touch. No, Near, get off me." Mello's hands, tugging at his wrists, stopped suddenly. "Bells," he whispered.
Near couldn't hear anything for the music, but he felt Mello take a step toward the closest of the large windows lining one wall of the hallway they were in. He nearly tripped over Near. "Near," he hissed. "Let go. I'm serious, the church-bells, I want to --"
Near heard them, then; the hard, steady tolling. It rocked through him. Slow and loud, the bells jolted through his mother's lullaby, destroying it. Mello's heartbeat thudded in tandem against Near's forehead.
When the bells stopped, he heard silence.
Author's Note: How many times did I change the ending of this thing? Way too many. 'Ventually ended up asking my little sister to 'pick a hand'. I'm useless.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed.
Steph R.