He curled up. He curled up as tight as he could. Wishing away the pain. Wishing it all to go away.
Every night he used to hide, hide in a place he thought they couldn't find him.
Every night they did.
The beatings were the same; he should've gotten used to it by now. His head would be slammed against the floor. His legs hoisted in the air by two pairs of gloved hands. Sometimes he'd be lucky enough to pass out whilst being dragged outside. Outside in the cold. Their hands would reach out and hit, punch, slap whatever they could find. His head. His chest. His legs. When his eyes would open again, a new drop of his crimson would be spilt on the floor. The essence that kept him alive dripping onto the frozen floor. The cold, frozen floor. He would close his eyes again, only to have them re-opened by another hand. Sometimes around his throat. Sometimes around his wrists. Squeezing. Squeezing as hard as they could. Squeezing the bruise onto his snow white skin.
"Open your eyes."
Another punch. Another cut. Another bruise onto his snow white skin.
Just another punch. Just another cut. Just another bruise onto his snow white skin.
He would never call out. Always stay quiet. Stay quiet and they'll stop. Stop hurting you. They will never stop hurting you.
Every night he'd be forced to look at them. Watch as they bound his wrists. And tie him against the bordering fence. Only once did he ever scream. Only once did he regret screaming.
He was ripped apart. Torn. Bleeding. He never thought it would go this far.
The beatings. He could handle the beatings.
This pain was just too much.
They entered him. Slamming into his tiny fame. Gripping his hips as though they were handle bars and pushing themselves into him. Taking turns releasing into the child. The broken child. The broken boy.
It was a new thing to become used to.
Every night they would slam his head into the fence. Leaving him passed out. Shuddering in the cold. Every night he would awaken to new ties and knots. Having to come up with a new way to free himself and return to the warm compounds of his room. His ever so soft bed sheets. And every night he would pray. Pray to a god that doesn't exist. Pray to a god that intellect and logic could not uphold. That one day. His god of no logic and no reason would send down an angel. His angel of no logic. His angel of no reason. His angel. The angel for Nate River.
It wasn't as if people knew and didn't care. He never spoke out. No-one knew what he faced every night. What the number 1 boy at Wammy's faced every night.
Again. He was awoken. Awoken by hands grabbing his lifeless form. He always gives in. Put up a fight and it'll hurt more. It can't hurt more. It's impossible to hurt any more. What is the point of fighting when you'll die in the cold.
"You'll die in the cold Near."
He was dragged by his feet this time. By only one of them. His crimson dripping as they pulled. He closed his eyes. Begging for the dark to encircle him. To hold him.
Begging.
Its shadow wrapped its arms around him. Rocking him to sleep.
Shush now Nate, it'll all be over soon. Shhh.
His grey eyes slipped shut. Consciousness fading.
Alone. The yellow angel. The yellow angel came. Wings spread. Stepping through them all. The yellow angel.
The yellow angel. He wrapped his arms around the broken boy. Wings spread. Holding him. Rocking him.
The yellow angel.
Just holding him. Just rocking him.
The yellow angel.
He held the boy close. Holding him. Rocking him. Loving him.
The yellow angel.
Wings spread.
Grey eyes opened. Opened and saw. The invisible fence. The invisible tree. The invisible cold.
The bed. The curtain. The warm.
The yellow angel. Wings spread.
His crimson stopped falling. His bruises no longer blue. His bones no longer broken.
The yellow angel. Wings spread.
"Mello?"
The blonde boy smiled. The first smile. The first pure smile Near had ever seen on his face.
"Near."
With that he left. Left Near alone again. Left him to close his eyes. Close his eyes. And sleep.
He dreamt no dreams, Feared no fear. For his angel. His illogical angel from an illogical god. The yellow angel. Near's yellow angel. Wings spread wide.
The next night was warm.
No hands grabbing. No feet kicking. No waists pounding into him.
Arms holding. Legs entwining. Waists joined together.
Mello snaked a slender arm around him. Pulling him closer.
"I swear. They wont again - they wont hurt you like that again. Never."
Near lay his head onto his chest and listened. Listened to his heart beat. Thud Thud Thud. Just for him. Just for the small white broken boy. He slowed his breathing. Just to breathe in time. In time with his mello.
Yes there. His Mello. His heart beat in time. One beat, that was all he needed.
Eyes slipped shut as warm lips kissed his head.
"Near I love you."
"I love you too Mello."
He resisted the urge to say his name.
His Mello.
His Mihael.
~
He searched all day. The kitchen. The library. The study hall. His mello was no where. He just wanted to be held again. Rocked again. Kissed again.
He searched. Every second that passed. Every heart beat. Every breath. He was needed. He was needed by mello. His mello that he couldn't find.
Again he searched. Not asking anybody.
Scared.
Vulnerable without his protector.
His Mello.
It was growing dark. No, please no. They were scared of mello. Scared of him. They wouldn't touch him when he was there. No please no. Please. Mello where are you.
Near ran. Ran through the corridors of Wammy's house. Through the corridor with the girls rooms. Through the corridor with the boys rooms. Not here. Not here. Please.
Through the library.
Through the kitchens.
Through the test room.
Into Roger.
"If it's Mello you're looking for... Hes's left. He took Matt and left."
Slammed against the fence. Tied against the tree. His eyes stayed open.
Another drop of crimson spilled. Another essence dripping. Another bone of glass breaking.
He begged for him.
The yellow angel. Wings spread.
He begged. Begged out loud.
"Mello."
He was kicked in the ribs. A crack and kicked again.
"Mello! Save me!"
His shirt was ripped away. Ripped from his shaking form. His eyes looked into the sky. Searching for something that would never return. Searching for the 17 year old boy with his heart. His soul. His love.
He screamed. For the second time in his life he screamed.
He wasn't torn. He wasn't ripped apart. He wasn't even hurt. He felt nothing.
He just screamed. Screamed with the pain of his soul. Inside his soul.
He felt nothing of the loveless seed inside him. No pain.
Your body can only feel one pain. One pain at a time. You get stomach ache, bite your hand. You wont feel it anymore.
You feel alone. You wont feel the beating.
The beating
The rape.
So cold.
So alone.
He ran. He couldn't take it anymore. He broke free and ran. Broke free from their grasp. Their grabbing hands. Running. Just running. That's all he could see. The words in front of him. Run. Run. Forget about your broken bones; your bleeding heart. Your pointless life. Just run.
Run far away.
Forget about the nights that will be spent alone. Forget about how cold your soul is. Forget about your pointless life; just run.
Forget about your pointless life; just run.
Run far away.
Nate River. The lonely boy. The broken child. The boy that kept on running. He didn't stop to pick up his shoes or a change of clothes. He didn't stop to pick up his favourite collection of robots. He didn't even stop for his jigsaw. His favourite jigsaw.
"If you cant do the puzzle, you're nothing but a loser."
Nate River. The boy that feels alone in the dark streets of London.
The boy who sleeps alone in the cold. Hoping they wouldn't find him.
Nate River. The boy who sleeps on the floor without a blanket. Hoping, that the next night will be warmer.
Nate River. They broken boy.
Nate River.
Near.
Three years later. Three years living in the cold. In the dark. Hoping to not be found by those reaching hands. Those fists. Those hips.
Every night he spent shaking; longing for warmth. He'd managed to beg money to kept himself alive. Barely. But alive. He grew thin. Tired. Every so often he'd spend 3 days without food to save up. For a blanket. A sleeping bag. New clothes. Socks. Something warm.
He would try to stay inside as much as he could. Lingering in shops and public toilets just begging for warm air. Warm something.
A call. A phone call. A call to the phone he'd kept on him for 3 years in hope. In hope his mello would call him.
A call from Wammy's.
He was now 17, and therefore had right to the house. The house saved for him when he became L's successor. A house. A warm place. A warm comfortable place.
This was the best birthday present anyone could ever give him. A warm place. With a house he could get a job. A bank account. With that he can get food. He can live. He can search. Search for his mello. His angel.
His yellow angel. Wings spread.
That night was warm. Warm and comforting. A fire. A blanket.
A bed.
He curled up. Entangled in the blankets, still fully clothed. Hair pooling around his face. Hands and knees brought up to his chest. He was on the left hand side. Looking to the middle. The other pillow. A photo. The only photo ever taken of mello.
Mello always slept on the right.
He spent days, weeks, months waiting. Waiting for an innocent nothing. An illogical angel from an illogical god. A pure, innocent nothing. A pure innocent everything.
Everyday he would work. Work on cases sent to him. Boredom would strike so he would spend an hour, possibly 2 working on a case. Always looking up to that role. L's successor. Always looking up to that role. Mello's everything.
"If you cant finish the puzzle you're nothing but a loser."
And every puzzle he finished, every case he solved, every day he awoke alone.
Alone in a double bed meant for 2.
Alone in a house meant for 4.
Mummy Daddy and 2 children.
Near, Mello, a house, a life, and an eternity.
That one day. He was out shopping. Spending the rewards of solving the latest case. A case of murder; simple enough. Murderers are stupid. Stupid human beings.
Shopping for food. He had enough money to get whatever he wanted. Cake, Sweets, ….Chocolate….
The shopping trolley became full with vegetables and sweets, toothpaste and shower gel. He hated shopping, liked to do it as little amount of times as he could. Stock up.
He walked down an aisle he didn't need to. An aisle where there was nothing he needed. An aisle he needed.
His grip loosened on the trolley handle bars, leaving it behind and he walked. Just kept walking.
The yellow angel. Wings spread wide.
He walked. Walked to him. Walked to him and said his name.
"Mihael?"
His need. His want, his everything looked down at him.
"Near."
No expression of guilt for leaving him. No remorse. Shock. Meer shock at seeing the boy alive. Alive and healthy. He left him for dead. Destined to die alone within the compounds of the institution. For him to no longer be number two. No longer the loser.
Feeble arms made there way around the obviously larger and fuller waist. Feeble weak arms. Feeble without him.
"You came back for me..."
The yellow angel looked down. Looked down at the boy clinging to his body. Clinging as if his life depended on it. His life depended on it. He pitied this small child. The child destined to die alone. To die alone in the cold dark compounds of Wammy's house. To die alone in the cold dark streets of London. To die alone in he cold and dark.
He pitied the boy. The small feeble boy.
Near. His heat was sewn back together. His feeble heart re pieced. His heart beat again as long, slender arms wrapped themselves around his small frame. Holding him. Rocking him.
The yellow angel. Wings spread wide, Wings enclosed around him. Around Nate River. The boy destined to die alone.
They returned to Nears house together. Together arm in arm. Hand in hand. Hearts joined.
One heart beat for the other. One heart beat out of sheer pity. This yellow angel. He did not love the feeble child. He did not want this feeble child. He pitied his weak innocence. He pitied him. Sheer pity.
"I have to go, Near. I need to go now."
His heart sank. Not again. don't leave me again. In the cold in the dark. they'll find me. they'll hurt me. don't leave. don't leave. they'll hurt near. They'll find me they'll hurt me. Protect near. Don't leave don't go. Please don't go. Don't leave near.
"I'll be back tomorrow."
He lay that night. On the left hand side. Mello always slept on the right. He lay with a rosary around his neck. A present… a forgotten rosary. A essence of promise. A crimson of promise. The rosary beat with his heart. his mello's heart. It was part of him. The essence of his promise. With the rosary beads around his neck near was whole again. Never again will his heart beat alone. Never again will his crimson be spilled on the cold floor. The cold frozen floor. Never again will near be alone. Never. Never again will the cold streets of London hold his nightmares. The hands grabbing, the feet kicking. The hips consuming him. His heart will beat freely. Never again constricted with his nightmares. His dreams converted. Never again will he feel the pain of being alone. That crushing pain. The pain he felt every night in Wammy's. Every night on the streets. The pain he will never feel again. Never in Mello's arms.
"Please…Please…I love you."
His breath hitched. His face flustered. Legs wrapped around his angels waist pulling him. Pulling him deeper. He was given no reply. No, I love you too. That didn't matter. His actions spoke louder than words. the gentle of his touch. The deepening of his kiss. The way his heart beat. That said I love you.
Near wrapped his limbs around the man. With the only strength that remained. Wrapped, entwined with the man that owned his heart. That broke his heart. No. no he didn't mean to. Hair was held. Not pulled. Oh so gently. Their hearts beat as one. They moved as one. Thrusts met with moans and sweet nothings. Pure sweet nothings. Pure… Sweet….Nothings…
"MIHAEL!~"
He was scolded. Scolded when breathing returned to normal for using his name.
"Don't say that again."
Using the name that was forbidden. Using the name that will eventually end him.
Clothes were put back on and hair slicked back into place, all as if nothing ever happened.
He begged, begged as he did for his angel to appear for him to stay the night. Their first time as lovers. Please stay, don't go.
He has to go back home. Home to a family, a family held secret. A wife and two children. Mello's family. A family without near. A love without feeble little Nate River. A love without the broken boy Nate River.
A love without Nate River.
Most nights stayed the same. They would lie together on the sofa. Talk. Near would plead his heart for his love to stay. Just to hold him again. It would always be another night alone. Always. Never a night in his lovers arms. Never a night feeling warm.
Always alone.
"Near. I can't do this anymore."
He stood at the door. Facing the yellow angel. Wings spread. Facing the cold. The dark. The midnight wind. The midnight wind that whips at his face, telling him to return to the warm compounds of the bedroom, of the house itself.
"She found out. My wife. I can't see you anymore."
Tears wouldn't stop falling please no. I'm more important than her. No please.
"Please. Don't leave me. Don't go."
The wind blew and took his angel away. Al the tears all the screaming would never bring him back. The angel that protected him. The mello that protected him. That stopped the pain. The pain of broken bones. The pain of his crimson falling. His eyes blinded. His ears deaf to the world. The world that was truly in fron of him. Nate River, destined to die alone.
He could hear them. They would hurt him. They would tie him to te fence, tie him to the tree. Those gloved hands never stopping never stopping. There forth his yellow angel. The man that lamed his heart. The rosary beads around his neck stoped beating. Stopped humming. Stoped sothing his broken body. His broken heart.
He lay down. Curled up on the step outside his house. The cold was the only one that was always there. Unlike his parents, unlike his Mello. The cold never left him. The cold never left him all alone.
He walked to the kitchen, rosary beads shaking. Never beating. Never beating. His Mello. His Mello left him. His mello never shared his heart. He owned his heart. Never returning it. leaving him empty. Alone again. Destined to die alone.
Memories. Stupid memories. Memories of his non-logical, non-existing angel. He gave himself to a man that pitied his youth. A man that pitied his broken soul. He gave his love to a man that could never return it. Never. Return it.
His eyes stung with the liquid pain that ran freely down his cheeks. The cheeks he used to caress. The cheeks I gave to him
He was foolish.
If you don't finish the puzzle. You're nothing but a loser.
He failed. He didn't see the lies and deception.
The boy. So young. His eyes opened to see the world for the first time. The cruel world. Eyes glistening. Seeing what is truly in front of him. The beatings. The rape. The cruelty of being left alone. Just as his parents did.
That. That thought, of being left. Cold. All alone in the cold. Crying. Tears freezing to his cheeks as the wind chilled them to a stand still. As if soothing him. Don't cry. Your tears won't fall.
With cold arms of the wind holding him. Rocking him to sleep.
The silver stopped shining.
The silver. Encircled with his crimson.
The warm arms. Soothing him, rocking him to sleep, allowed the blade to pass without pain. Into his lifeless form.
No more pain.
The yellow angel. Wings spread wide.
"I loved you Mello."
