Hi, this is an old story that I've decided to repost onto my main account. (for some reason I made two, silly me T_T)
I would like to thank NimayTheAirbender for being so kind and helping me decide that I wanted to continue on with this story.
Anyway, hope you like! Chapter 2 is coming soon =3
A/N =This story is entirely AU, and probably quite OOC. I tried to explain a few things in this chapter, so the next one will probably be more entertaining (I hope), and I do aim to make Matt and Mello my main couple after a few more chapters. So, please let me know what you think, especially how you think I can improve! *^_^*
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Where am I? Matt thought, knowing that he should probably be panicking right now, but feeling only a dull boredom instead. He wriggling slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position on the cold tiles and realized that both his hands and feet were numb. He could no longer feel the bite of the rope that he knew to be wrapped about his limbs, and he found himself wondering how long he had been here, wherever here was.
The last thing that he could remember before being engulfed in this dark prison was sulking in his room. Then he had jolted awake, struggling to see through the dense blackness that hung all round him. It soon became obvious that he was blindfolded; the rims of his goggles were pressed uncomfortably tight around his eyes, and he could feel the faint whisper of soft material against his face. He had attempted to shout for someone, to figure out what the hell was going on. His voice had sounded small and reedy in the heavy silence, and after a while it became obvious that nobody was going to answer. He stopped calling out, hating how the fear was so obvious in his voice.
About an hour later he vaguely realised that he must have been floating in and out of sleep, but he didn't care. If he fell asleep he could escape the oppressive silence.
What was that?
Just as Matt had been halfway to slumber, a loud, striking noise rang out. Matt felt his chest constrict in sudden fright. No longer did he want to attract attention to himself; whoever had brought him here was certainly not a friend, and he found that he didn't want to know just how much of an enemy they were.
Cocking his head to one side, he decided that he knew that sound. As the noise grew closer it also became clearer, and Matt recognised the clacking to be a woman in heels. Then the sound was gone, replaced by the creaking of a door hinge. Matt almost stopped breathing, uncertain of what he should do.
After what felt like an age, the woman in the heels stepped through the door. He realised that the room he was in must have been smaller than he thought, as with only four clicking steps the woman was before him. He could feel her presence, but could no longer hear anything, not even a quiet sigh of breath.
Suddenly her small fingers were wrapped tightly in his red hair, gripping tightly and pulling his head painfully to the side with surprising strength. A strangled cry caught in Matt's throat at the unexpected contact.
"Is it him?" a man's voice rang from behind him. Matt jumped. He hadn't heard anyone but the woman enter. The motion caused his head to jerk slightly, but her grip might as well have been made of iron and he felt a sharp pain as a small clump of his hair parted with his scalp.
"Yes, the distinctive hair and the circumstances in which he was found are too coincidental," the woman's voice was soft and musical.
"What should be done with him," the man answered.
"For now, he should stay here. My adviser and I will decide what shall be done with the boy, after his business is completed."
All at once, the girl's fingers had disentangled with his hair and the door had slammed shut. The room was silent once more. Matt didn't even hear the sound of her shoes on the tiles as she left.
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Mello stalked down the tiled hallway, leather booted feet falling heavily. It was the middle of the day, and the thick strands of sunlight filtering through the high windows was starting to give him a migraine.
He tucked a lock of his blonde hair behind his ear, trying to ignore the pain spreading through him at being in the sunlight the day after the full moon.
The mission he had been sent on was dangerous, he mused. Not just dangerous in a sense that he might be killed, which was a small possibility, but dangerous in a way that might force him to be expelled, which in his opinion was a lot worse.
Since that mindless beast had ripped his shoulder open as a nine year old child, tearing not just flesh from bone, but the humanity from his soul, Wammy's house had been everything to him. In fact, the years he had spent here as a werewolf had been infinitely more pleasant than those in which he'd been a human. He no longer even felt any of the trauma that losing his parents had once brought him, when they had been torn apart before his very eyes on the night of his brutal transformation.
As a kid he had felt nothing but the complete horror of a child losing both parents, but looking back on those days as a teenager had changed his perception. His parents had been drunk and abusive, never treating him the way that he deserved, and thinking about their cruel end now filled Mello with a kind of bitter satisfaction. They had gotten what they deserved, which showed that there was a twisted sort of karma after all, and anyone who tried to treat Mello like his parents once had would soon find that out.
Mello let these familiar thoughts drift through his head as he turned off down another corridor, hearing a number of muffled voices floating out of the nearest room with the sign 'STUDENT COUNCIL' above the door. He stopped for a second, listening to the tone of the voices, and guessed everything was going just fine in there.
He branched off into a new hallway, this one noticeably more grand than any of the previous ones. The vampire dorms were down here, and Mello, a werewolf, was certainly not allowed to enter this area. Happily disregarding the rules, Mello carried on anyway.
The vampires were always treated like lords at Wammy's, but Mello smirked to himself as he realised that if he succeeded, that was going to change. And when the werewolves ruled the roost, the vampires would be lucky if there were any of them left in the school.
Mello emerged from all the finery of the vampires quarters and started down a few flights of stairs. The steps to the basement level were old and worn, but Mello made his footsteps as stealthy as possible, and managed to make his way without rousing anyone.
The storage area was old, and for the most part unused. The floor was layered with a thick carpet of dust, contrasting nicely with the darker splotches that showed a set of tiny footprints.
Mello smiled to himself. Misa had obviously organised this whole thing; Yagami would never leave a valuable prisoner in such an obvious spot, and would certainly never leave a trail leading right to them. He left his own set of prints over the considerably smaller ones left by the vampire girl.
Light may have trained his little puppet to talk like she has some brains, but she's still an idiot…
Mello found the door at the end of Misa's path, and hesitated. He wasn't really sure what to do now. If the boy really was in here, it was going to be pretty hard to get him from here to the werewolves quarters. He would almost certainly make a scene…
Mello plucked the gun from the belt of his trousers and made sure it was loaded. Nowadays he had no real need for such weapons; his brute strength was usually enough to do him, but sometimes, like now, it was still good to have one on hand.
Not seeing the need for stealth whilst he was a good few floors beneath anyone, he lifted one foot and gave the edge of the door a firm kick. It burst open, extracting a startled cry from whoever was inside. Mello stalked in, gun raised threateningly, only to find that his prey was blindfolded and oblivious to his dramatic entrance.
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Light shifted slightly, leaning forward to pour himself a drink. Unfortunately, there was only water, but a vampire as intelligent as he was soon learned to control their bloodlust in front of company. Especially in his company, Light thought, though he quite enjoyed the verbal sparring he and L took part in each meeting.
The man in question was currently hunched over in his distinctive manner, toes curled around the edge of the cushion on his high backed chintz armchair. He was up to something, Light knew, though his vacant expression gave nothing away to the cunning mind that lay beneath. Thick bags underlined his eyes, and had become a permanent fixture on his pallid face for a few years now… for about as long as they had been playing this game, now that Light thought about it. Perhaps he knew that he would never win this. That thought was very welcome, and he felt a zing of pleasure shoot through him.
Really, he should just give up already. He had been trying for so long to push the status of the werewolf clan to equal that of the vampire clan, but that would never happen. Everything in Wammy's house was set up in the vampires' favour, and it was a surprise that werewolves were even allowed to attend the elite boarding school.
The world belonged to the vampires.
It was just so much easier for people to like vampires. Everyone knew that werewolves were barely more than animals, just one second from turning into brainless, uncontrollable monsters. Light was too smart to think that way. Werewolves were not unintelligent, as the man sitting opposite him could attest to, but once again, appearances were the more important matter.
Vampires were undeniably sophisticated and regal, impressive and graceful. They oozed sex appeal, and radiated an air of intelligence. When compared, werewolves were like overgrown dogs standing next to the most elegant of humans. And this was something that even the resourceful and erudite L would never be able to change, but the stubborn bastard was still trying, despite years of failing.
L leaned forward, pinching a sugar cube between thumb and forefinger before popping the whole thing into his mouth and crunching with obvious relish. Light felt a flash of annoyance; the werewolf had went completely teetotal, replacing the craving for flesh with that of sugar and sweets without any difficulty. Light was still very addicted to blood, but he had absolutely no wish to change that. There were a few select individuals that would volunteer to become his dinner, though admittedly such people tended to be rather… weird. He didn't see the point of turning down that which was offered to him so freely. However, L's diet was likely to prove popular with the majority of humans.
"Is something the matter, Light?" L asked, cocking his tousled head to one side.
"No, I was just thinking," Light replied airily, taking another sip from the glass he still clutched lightly in one hand.
"It was a disappointment that Misa could not make it," L said, crunching another sugar cube. "She has been rather held up of late."
L's tone always tended to be monotonous, so it was hard to tell, but Light thought that there was a touch of accusation in that statement.
"Yes, well, she is the head of the vampire clan," he said easily. Of course he was trying to keep her away from L. Light had been trying to teach her how to act the part of a leader, but if she was left alone with the alpha of the werewolf clan for ten seconds, L would have managed to extract any information he wanted about the vampire clan's plans. Misa could act with intelligence at times, but she could be dangerously stupid at others. Still, Light was glad that the leader of the vampire clan was so easy to manipulate.
"Yes," L answered noncommittally.
A quick glance at the clock told Light that Misa should have finished talking to their source by now. God, he hoped she hadn't screwed up.
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Matt squinted in the gloom, the pale sunlight seeming incredibly bright to his unaccustomed eyes, and tried to make out the figure standing before him.
Shit… As his vision stopped blurring, he realised that he was staring right into the barrel of a gun.
"Get up," a silky voice demanded. You didn't argue with a voice like that, not if you wanted to live.
Matt's limbs were still numb from being bound, and as he tried lifting his body from the ground he found pins and needles nipping at him mercilessly. Finally, and rather shakily, he made it to his feet. For the first time he got a got glimpse of his maybe rescuer, or more likely, captor.
The man (and he was a man, Matt assured himself, despite the delicate, feminine features) had a slender, yet wiry frame, that suggested compact strength. His entire outfit seemed to be made of the deepest, midnight black, and clung to his body in a way that Matt couldn't help but find quite… appealing. Beneath a fringe of thick blonde hair, Matt met the man's striking sapphire eyes, which were regarding him as though weighing him up. Then the gun came back up to rest inches from his forehead, causing Matt's breath to hitch slightly.
"You're coming with me," the blonde said in that pleasant, yet dangerous voice. "And don't you even think of making a break for it."
The cool metal of the gun's barrel glinted cruelly in the faint sunlight struggling to get through the tiny basement window, emphasising his point. A slender, strong hand caught in Matt's baggy, striped top, and shoved him towards the small room's only door.
Unfortunately, he was not very steady on his legs yet, and he found them buckling as he tried to take a step. He landed on his knees with a thump, and he turned to the blonde, expecting to be struck for messing up.
But instead the other boy crouched beside him, gun lowered for a moment. "Rub them," he said.
"W-what?" Matt asked, confused and disoriented.
"Your legs. If you rub them the blood will circulate better," the blonde replied calmly. "You were wrapped up pretty tight, so I'll give you minute to recover, but you better hurry up."
"Thanks," Matt answered uncertainly.
"Why are you thanking me?" the blonde asked, standing up again. "I don't want to get halfway up the stairs and then have to carry you for the rest." The other boy was looking down at him, in more ways than one, Matt was sure.
"But why me?" Matt blurted suddenly. "I don't understand what's going on, or how I got here. I mean, I'm not worth anything! If your expecting my parents to pay some big ransom for me, then you're out of luck, because they died eight years ago!"
"I don't care what happened to your parents," the blonde said, glancing around the slightly open door. "Now, do what I tell you before I lose my temper and fire this thing at your head."
Matt started rubbing gently at his legs, and began to feel the anger that had been stifled by his fear start to build. "You aren't going to kill me. If you were, you would have done it already." The hands that were gliding up and down his thighs were shaking, both with fear of his captor and the realisation that he was in a bad situation that was likely to get worse.
The blonde turned a playful, yet wicked smile his way. "Maybe I just don't wanna make a mess down here for someone to find."
Matt felt as though someone had poured ice water down his back, although he was pretty sure that this guy was bluffing. Still, he decided against testing that theory, and kept his mouth shut after that.
After a few minutes the blonde gave him a sharp kick in the ribs and told him that his time was up. He clambered heavily back to his feet, and found that they were finally ready to carry his weight. The man stepped through the door, motioning with his gun for Matt to follow.
"Keep behind me, and don't dare make a sound," he said when they were standing in the dusty corridor outside his recent prison. "Otherwise," he allowed the barrel of his gun to trace a cold, tender trail across Matt's temple, "things could get very unpleasant for you."
Matt heeded the stranger's advice and followed him up a number of winding staircases. Even under the best of circumstances, Matt was hardly the picture of fitness, and these were certainly not the best of circumstances. When they had at last reached the top of the seemingly endless stairs Matt was wheezing and clutching hard at a painful stitch in his side.
God, I'm dying for a cigarette, he thought miserably, his mind drifting longingly to the pack of Mayfair lying unopened on his desk. Right now he could happily work his way through the whole pack.
"Stop that, you sound like you're having a heart attack, and they have very sharp hearing," the blonde said, glaring and jabbing the barrel of the gun into his chest. The man seemed no worse for wear, and wasn't even breathing heavily. Probably not a forty a day man, Matt thought.
Matt sucked air in hard, trying to regulate his breathing and failing. This earned him a smack across the face as the gun wielding blonde obviously found him to be taking too long. The stranger was more nervous now, and more violent. He was clearly very eager to get moving again. Matt wondered who 'they' were, and if they were the reason for the man's apparent distress.
Once again, Matt felt ready to move again, and allowed the blonde to lead him on.
The corridors he was led down astounded him; he had never seen anything like this, other than what he'd seen on the telly. Crystal chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling, and every inch of the hall seemed to be filled with some sort of intricate decoration or gold laced ornament.
The further they walked, the more he was starting to realise that this was a school, albeit a school for the rich. It was definitely not what he had expected when he had found himself cuffed and shackled in a cellar.
So, he thought, trying to summarise things in his head, just yesterday, or at least, I think it was yesterday, I had been looked in my room for hacking the school computers and was facing a month's worth of detention. And now I'm being led around some school posh enough to put Buckingham Palace to shame, with some blonde guy, who is almost definitely insane, levelling a gun at my head…
The unreality of it all hit him, and, incredibly, he found himself laughing. The blonde whipped his head around, fixing him with a glare that would freeze over a bonfire, and he realised that this was not a laughing matter, it was in fact more likely to be a fatal matter.
After a while, the finery and elegance of the halls began to taper off, and he found that they were heading down a new corridor that was almost a duplicate of those in his own school. It was as though the place had been split in half; the luxurious part and the common part.
They had travelled an awfully long way, or so it felt to Matt. He would have almost dismissed the idea that this was a school, but they passed a roomed that had been labelled the student council room, which pretty much removed all doubt. But still, it was one hell of a big school.
Finally the blonde stopped, and gestured to a door that looked no different from any of the others in the section of the school that Matt had mentally dubbed 'the poor part'. Matt took the hint and opened the door, which lead into a surprisingly large dorm room, and they both entered. Now that he was inside he noticed a heavy, cloying scent of chocolate which seemed to have permeated the entire room.
There was a click as the blonde closed the door behind them. Matt was still studying the room, which was rather messy, but seemed quite comfortable.
"Here," Matt turned back to the blonde, who was holding out a bar of chocolate. "I'm sure you're hungry, but that's all I have in here." The gun had disappeared, and Matt almost sighed with relief as he took the bar and began to peel it out of the wrapper. He only realised now how afraid he had really been, and felt his body begin to unwind ever so slightly. He wasn't out of the danger zone yet, but the blonde seemed to be more relaxed now, and less likely to kill him on the spot.
The blonde sat down on the double bed, poking about in the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and removing another bar of chocolate. Feeling a little awkward and unsure, Matt settled himself down on an armchair at the back of the room, but making sure he had the strange boy within his view.
"What's your name?" the boy said suddenly, around a mouthful of chocolate.
"Matt."
"Good. I'm Mello, by the way," he answered.
'Good'? What does he mean by that…? Matt thought nervously. Still, the change in Mello since they had entered the dorm room was clear. The blonde seemed to think that he was safer in here.
"Mello… Why did you bring me here? Are you going to kill me?" Matt asked hurriedly.
"What do you think?" Mello answered haughtily. "No, I'm not. But if you do something stupid, like try to leave with out my permission, for example, then I'll make you wish I was."
Matt started to eat his chocolate, which kicked his hunger into gear fully. He almost ate the whole thing in one gulp, and his stomach growled loudly for something more filling. Despite the threat, Matt felt a little reassured by Mello's comments.
"But it won't come to that, will it. You seem like a smart enough guy," Mello said, "so I expect you to still be here when I get back. Of course, I'm locking you in anyway, just to be safe." He flashed Matt another devilish smile, before getting up and opening the door again.
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Please review! I would really appreciate your thoughts! =)