06.20.09
Status Quo
Mello smiles. He's knows he's the best. This new kid? It's only a matter of time before he breaks.
USB cords and motherboards. Post-its and loose leaf. Romeo and Juliet open to act I, scene IV, a blue highlighter cradled by the seam of the fold of the pages. A mess, as it had been last night, as it is this morning, with a long ribbon of electrical tape down the center of their dorm room.
As soon as he's oriented, Mello rises off his bed and stumbles through the debris of a battle not yet lost. The tape warps as his sock skids over it. He feels it, he scowls, but he doesn't look down. He continues on, he intrudes, he steals a shirt even though he never wears yellow.
Mello's halfway home free when a knock on the door, like an earthquake, rips through the perfect lull. In a flash and a flick of his wrist, Mello's prize goes sailing into a dark corner beneath his bed, and every thought about it becomes like rain in the background as he's opening his mouth and saying, "come in." Because really, there's only one person in the whole of Wammy's House that knocks on dorm doors anymore.
It's the headmaster, Roger Ruvie. There's some sort of light-hearted expression on his face, but it's gone when he notices the repulsive state of the room. The wrinkles in his old face deepen as he frowns.
Mello is aware that Matt is now awake. He doesn't have to look. People that have grown accustomed to one another are like this, even when they're angry. They don't look angry at each other, though; nor frightened of the demerits mister Ruvie may bestow upon them any second now. They're curious. Sleepy, bleary, but eternally curious, because they are Wammy's boys.
"Matt." Roger sounds tired, but not for a lack of sleep. "Please collect your things. You're moving next door." The old man shifted. The doorway was partly cleared and the small figure he had once eclipsed became visible. A boy. Young. Pale. Frail.
Not strong enough, Mello decides. "A week?" His blond hair shimmers as he speaks from the corner of his mouth. It was a question for Matt only, but it was loud enough for the newcomer to hear. "Maybe half that?" Matt mutters something and drags himself out of bed. It isn't enough for Mello. "How long until you oust the new number two?"
"Mello." Roger speaks a bit more clearly, like he's forgotten the paltry, monotone trials and tribulations of running the orphanage-school. Just from the way his name is enunciated, Mello knows what's happening. "Once Matt is through, please move your belongings to this side of the room."
Mello smiles. His bravado won't be stifled by this minor mistake. These ranks, these rituals, it's all stupid, it doesn't matter. He's knows he's the best. This new kid? It's only a matter of time before he breaks.
Matt jostles him on purpose, but he pretends it was an accident. He pretends he can't even see Mello, because Mello's stupid and he doesn't matter. At least not until he apologizes. "Yeah, maybe half that."
Although he makes no sound, Matt knows it when Mello leaves the room in a huff.
There are ghosts at Wammy's House. Not really ghosts, but people like ghosts, who are the dismal shadows of the pupils. Without ranks, they are dead to the institute. People, ghosts. Some like Backup, who fail to look the part, or worse, those like J, who succeed.
Mello likes dark things, eerie things. Homicide cases. Midnight. Dark chocolate. Maybe that's what attracted him to J, with his hollow eyes and black hair and deathly pallid skin. But J's not like Mello because he doesn't wear form fitting clothes, or a certain fashion, or the color black. J doesn't seem to care about exams or Shakespeare or hypotheticals. Mello is curious. J is content. Mello doesn't know why J talks to him at all. Mello can't even comprehend why J exists. All that matters in life is being the best.
Being the best is something that somehow matters more to him now than before Near arrived on the Wammy's House doorstep. If the Wammy's failures are ghosts, then Near is an angel. He is becoming untouchable—unreachable in spite of the wad of electric tape in the waste bin in their room—unsurpassable in a week, and another. Mello has started studying again. He made up with Matt, too. It wouldn't have been so awkward, wouldn't have required a formal apology if they'd still been sharing a dorm. Things like that should happen inside of other things, like returning a stolen shirt while one of them was still at breakfast.
Matt's wearing yellow today. Mello notices while he's sitting with J, and J is going on about the Winchester Mad Bombings. The marble bench beneath them is a memorial, and it's got something to do with the story, but Mello's drifting in and out of listening. He's actually half asleep.
"You know, staying up all night to study is pointless if you can't keep your eyes open for the exam," J says and finally retrieves Mello's attention.
Mello makes an ugly sound in the back of his throat. "My circadian rhythm is pliable. I'll sleep when I have time to sleep." Then, he's sliding off the bench. He's still a bit too short to touch his feet to the ground while seated. "I could play football if I wanted to," he asserts, as if saying so will energize him and make it true.
J gives him a very fake-looking impressed expression.
Matt arrives. Mello isn't sure if this is because of the shady oak looming over the bench, or if it's because they're friends. Their relationship has changed. It is different and weird now that they no longer share a dorm room.
Lately, Mello considers his words before he speaks. Sometimes, he doesn't speak.
"I heard Near is sick. Are you going to bleach the dorm?" Matt probably cares more than his lukewarm tone indicates. He's focused on his handheld game, but he's aware of the moment Mello takes to consider the notion of disinfecting his room. "That's a joke," Matt clarifies.
"He was puking all morning. It's not good."
"Well, maybe he'll screw up his exam."
"No," Mello growls. "If he does, I'll wring his stupid neck." A familiar tune from the handheld extinguishes Mello's frustration for a moment. His sigh turns into a yawn.
There's a sputter of laughter from Matt. "All's fair in love and war." But Mello's already leaving and he obviously doesn't care what Matt's got to say. It's just Matt and J, suddenly. J waves. Matt flees.
"I worry about you, sometimes," Mello's saying when Matt falls in beside him. "You're going to end up like J and Backup and their lot if you keep thinking this has anything to do with the number one failing an exam because he's sick."
Matt switches off the game. "Well, can you beat him otherwise?"
Mello stops dead. Matt falters. They exchange a look, and then Mello slugs him.
"You think I can't beat him unless he's delirious from fever?"
Once he's sure his jaw is still intact, Matt replies, "I don't know." It's honest. How could anyone know? "But you haven't, yet."
Mello keeps his curled fists at his sides. There's an urge in him to swing again, but Matt remains sprawled on the ground. He won't get up and that bothers Mello. "Neither have you!" he counters, he redirects, he projects. "Are you even trying?"
"Not really, no." Matt's hurt. It has nothing to do with the bruise that'll surface beneath his skin in a few hours. "I don't want to compete with you, Mello."
"If you don't try, the ranks don't mean anything! We might as well not be here."
Matt's noticing something he might have detected sooner if they still shared a dorm, or if Mello didn't spend every waking hour studying. "So ranks matter now? Now that you don't have the one you want."
The truth is, Mello didn't notice until just then, either.
Mello spends the afternoon in the infirmary, with Near and the House's RN. One time, when they were alone and Mello figured Near wasn't cognizant, Mello kissed Near's mouth. Mello waited, but he never became ill.
Being drowsy from medicine, Near slept on and off and through the exam. Mello outright refused to look at the question booklet and sat with his arms crossed throughout the class period. Matt pretended to fill in his answer sheet, but he didn't really.
So for a week, the House's number four overtook Matt and they switched beds. Mello was furious, and he insisted Matt study, and he sat with him and kept him up late at night, and they did mnemonic drills together. Matt reclaimed the third rank in the following week. He doesn't study with Mello anymore, and he's still number three.
Mello studies every night and every morning and on Sundays. He keeps his rank but never transcends it. When he gets sick, no one boycotts exams.
Near plays with robots, and matchsticks, and Rubik's cubes, and makes perfect marks.
J tells Mello he's leaving. He tells him in Japanese.
Author's Notes
This was supposed to be a fic about Mello introducing the Wammy's House life to Near. Whoops. At least I accomplished what I had wanted since writing And Hope To Die almost a year ago (sans the B story.) I also got to relate to the Wammy's House scene in the second anime director's cut (which I've only seen a screenshot of, woe!) This fic and And Hope To Die are supposed to be in the same fannon, even though the rank-to-bed ritual doesn't occur in in the latter.
Fun facts: 1. B, as in Backup, doesn't actually look like L. During his time with Naomi Misora in Another Note, "he had always disguised himself with heavy makeup." (p. 162) So that is why he doesn't look like a ghost here. 2. According to How To Read 13, one of the letters considered for L's name was J.
This is a oneshot.
( I disclaim Death Note.)