Disclaimer: I don't own DN or any of its characters.

WARNING: Spoilers spoilers spoilers.

This is set post-death note, focusing on the post-mortem experiences of the various characters who died… and the states of the lives of a few who didn't.

Rated for language, gore, angst, blood, and possible sexual references. Darkness and bizarre pairings abound.

This story is dedicated to Tamensei, whose prompt in the DN kissing meme actually inspired this entire story! So, endless gratitude for helping me start my first multi-chapter Death Note fanfic!

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"You're pathetic, you know that?"

"Shut up."

"No, seriously, you're pathetic!"

I said shut up!" Mello didn't feel bad for bitchslapping him... not in the least. Because Mello was Mello, at whatever age, and Mello knew that Mello wouldn't be hurt by being slapped. He looked a bit surprised, but that was the extent of the reaction he got from him.

The thing Mello had not anticipated about being dead was not the constant pain in his chest where a heartbeat should have been. It was how deeply he was haunted. The things Mello had lost while alive constantly surrounded him, whether they were merely the shadows of memory or they were actually there with him. L and Matt were constant visitors, as were his parents.

And then, of course, there was that childhood version of himself, that he supposed symbolized his lost innocence. That, of course, was the most irritating of the bunch. Matt had normal conversations with him, L sat and watched him curiously, and his parents mostly just ghosted around. But the other Mello never shut up. He followed him through his hell constantly, berating him, commenting on him, never giving him a moment of solitude.

This place was not exactly a treat, he mused as he looked around his current surroundings. He supposed the only thing you could compare it to would be a crudely made home that had once been a cave. He had not yet gained the courage (or perhaps the boredom) to venture out the door he so often glimpsed, but for now whatever lay beyond it was a waste of time, and he attempted to convince himself that it probably wasn't anywhere near as bearable as this place... if it could be described as bearable, of course.

"That's child abuse, you know," the other Mello said with a sneer, crossing his arms and taking a nibble from a bar of chocolate. Shit, what Mello wouldn't give for chocolate.

"Shut up. God, I am so damn sick of you it's not even funny.

"So you're sick of yourself?"

"Shut up!! You are so fucking annoying!"

"You shut up!" the other Mello looked about as irritated as he felt, and he stood and marched over to him, sending a brutal, Mello-esque punch into his gut that incapacitated him immediately. He fell to his knees, feeling slightly ashamed that he had been knocked down by a child (himself, no less).

"Dammit," he wheezed, clutching his stomach as the other Mello stood over him, looking smug, before he grabbed the front of his hair and pulled him toward him.

"Look, you don't tell me what to do, and I won't hurt you," the other Mello said in a voice that was slightly ridiculous, their faces inches apart. "I know you may be older than me, but I'm just as crazy as you are."

"But you're forgetting that I'm about ten years stronger than you, Mihael." There was no way he was going to call this child Mello. Mello felt just about as ridiculous as possible as he lay there, growling at the childhood version of himself. Felt ridiculous actually putting up with this kid when he could feel the cold lump that his gun made in his pants pocket... when he could put a bullet right through the infuriating little head right now and end all this.

He did just that, pulling the gun with his usual speed and pulling the trigger without a moment's hesitation. The bullet went in exactly where he aimed; between Mihael's eyes. Blood flew in all directions, spattering Mello's face. But as the gunsmoke cleared, Mihael still stood, looking slightly peeved, blood dripping from the open wound in his head.

"I'm part of you, so I'm already dead. You fucking idiot," he snapped, grabbing hold of Mello's hair again and pulling him toward him. Their lips crushed together painfully, and Mello found himself tearing at Mihael's flesh in an attempt to hurt him as blood poured into the kiss, staining their lips crimson.

Mihael pulled away, dropping Mello back onto the ground, the same madness in his eyes as Mello's own held as he glared at him.

"Look, I might just be an old, lost version of you, but I don't like you. You can fuck yourself for all I care," and with that he turned away and headed for his favorite corner, munching on a chocolate bar, blood staining his long-sleeved black shirt. This left Mello on the ground spitting out blood and wishing he'd never been born in the first place.

"Look, I may be dead, but I won't take shit from a pathetic little kid like you, got it?" he snapped. But Mihael was ignoring him as he often did, nibbling on his chocolate and staring at a particularly interesting spot on the floor. "Hey!" Mello stood up, brushing dust from his shirt, and stomped over to the tiny blond, his combat boots echoing hollowly against the stone of the floor. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, you fucking ingrate!"

It only took seconds to reach him, and when he did, his hand found the soft hair of Mihael's head. He lifted and flung him by it, and the crack and thump he made as he hit the floor was satisfying. Mello almost allowed himself to smile as he watched the child squirm slightly, a fresh trickle of blood pooling around him. He knew he couldn't kill him, but hurting him was the next best thing. Mihael incapacitated, Mello turned to lean against the wall, examining his fingernails and trying to ignore the one truth he couldn't shake.

In this place, he had nothing but emptiness.