Disclaimer:Once upon a time, there was a brilliant work of the manga kind, called 'Death Note'. If you were to pick up one of these volumes and read the cover, you would not, in fact, find bright, bold text declaring it to be the work of one 'Azar-Apocalyspe'. Therefore, it stands to reason that 'Azar-Apocalype' (ie. Me) does not own Death Note.
Rating: M
Warnings: Death, very bad French, very skewed opinions on what Heaven is, rape/prostitution, slight language, eating disorders, maybe slightly OOC
Spoilers: Near's real name. Exclamation point.
AN: I haven't been around for a while... I apologise. I have a whole list of excuses - I went overseas, I was very, very unwell, my friend and my grandfather died, I've have school word - but they're just that: Excuses.
During my absence from the community, my writing style has changed quite a bit. It's nothing too dramatic, but... -trails off-
As a result, The One I Desire has been deleted. It honestly makes me want to vomit when I read it. God, it is horrible. I don't know why I uploaded it in the first place; it was more a boredom buster than a serious work, but I'd like to thank everyone who read it and reviewed it.
So... without further ado... Here is my first Death Note FanFic ever (:
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Heaven - known also as Nirvana, Devachan, Paradise, Astral Plane, and the Other Side; it is the eternal home where life is unrestricted by space or time.
Just Like Heaven
By Azar-Apocalypse
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Chapter One
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When Near was three, he'd asked his mother if Heaven was real.
"Bien sûr, il est, Nate," she'd replied, smoothing his pale hair back and kissing his forehead.
Near, who was curious and wanted to know everything about everything (and really just wanted his mother to stay there, sitting on the edge of his bed and holding him), had asked where Heaven was.
His mother had smiled and tucked his blankets around him tighter. "Ciel est l'endroit où vous sentir en sécurité et chaleureux et aimé. Le ciel est ici." She pointed at her chest, then at his, and kissed his forehead again.
Near had watched her leave a few moments later, noticing the way that she left the door open slightly so that he wouldn't get scared, and in that moment, he'd been sure that Heaven was his mother.
Two years later, as the firemen had carried him out of his house, Near had clung to them, but had never felt safe, warm, or loved. The fireman's arms were cold, hard, and uncaring - nothing like Near's mother's.
When they'd put him down, Near had hugged his knees and his Optimus Prime close to his chest and closed his eyes, imagining for a moment that his mother was still there, that the smoke in the air smelled like her perfume, that his body heat was hers too, and that the hard ground was his soft mattress. It hadn't worked.
Near mourned the loss of his Heaven that night as he watched it burn to ashes.
A week later, distant relatives from somewhere called Kent had come to pick him up. They'd said that it was a pity about his mother, such a pity, and asked if he wanted a candy, because he was such a quiet child, and wasn't he a strange one?
Near had sat in the backseat of the car, listening to these strangers talk about his Heaven as if they knew her, and kept on about how it was such a pity, a real pity, and how Near had nowhere to go because he most certainly couldn't stay with his mongrel of a father.
The strangers had taken him on a train under the water (it had been cold and dark in there, but they didn't turn the lights on, and Near had thought to himself that his mother would never have let him alone while he was scared like he was then), and then to a big house, where everyone talked in funny voices and laughed loudly like Heaven hadn't just been incinerated.
"C'est là que vous allez vivre à partir de maintenant, Nate," the strangers had said, and left Near in front of the big building.
Near hadn't known what to do. Was he supposed to knock on the door? What if they didn't want him, either? What if they kicked him out? He had nowhere to go now - his Heaven was gone and he was lost and alone and cold and scared.
He'd stayed outside that night, hugging his Optimus Prime figurine, and shivering and sniffling to himself, until an old lady opened the door and started shouting at him.
Near hadn't understood much of what she'd said. She wasn't happy with him, he could tell that much, but she brought him a blanket and hurried him inside anyway, where he got more blankets and some hot chocolate.
The nice lady had then started talking to him in her funny voice, asking him a lot of questions that he didn't know the answers to. Eventually, she'd realised that he didn't speak much English, and had asked him in twelve different languages what his name was.
Finally, Near had replied, "Je m'appelle Nate."
The lady smiled and said, "Enchantée. Je m'appelle Lucy."
Near hadn't liked her funny voice very much, so he tried to talk like her to make her stop trying to speak like him. "You... Do you know... where is ma 'ouse?"
Lucy had looked at him intently for a few moments, before bursting into tears. Near didn't know what to do about that; his mother had never cried in front of him (sometimes, he'd hear her crying at night, but he wasn't supposed to know about that). He did what he liked his mother to do for him when he cried - he hugged Lucy, and offered her some of his hot chocolate. She'd shaken her head and led him to a room after that, and Near had followed her. There were big piles of clothes on the floor, and Lucy picked some up and gave them to him. Then, she showed him a huge bathroom and told him to get washed up.
When Near had taken his clothes off, he'd noticed a note in his pocket, and put it aside to give to Lucy later. It took him half an hour to get clean enough for his liking (Near's mother had never liked it when he was dirty, so Near didn't like being dirty, either), and when he finished, he left the bathroom and found Lucy outside waiting for him. After he gave her the note, she started crying again. Near stood there awkwardly and waited for her to finish - he'd never liked hearing people cry - and she led him to another room.
"Il s'agit de votre chamber," she'd said in her funny voice, and left.
Near opened the door and found a bedroom not unlike his one at home, except there were other children already there, and there was no book of bedtime stories and only his Optimus Prime toy to cuddle. He'd found a free bed eventually, and laid down.
He didn't sleep that night. He didn't know what he was doing in this place with all these weird people who spoke in funny voices, but he wanted to go back home.
A year went by, and Near had realised that he had no home now. He'd asked a few people and they'd told him that no one had ever bothered to repair it, because it had nearly burned down completely.
He missed his mother. Sometimes, he'd go to church, just they like used to do together, and pray for her. It seemed pointless to Near, but his mother had always loved church, and so Near would try to as well. No matter how much he'd tried though, he couldn't quiet the niggling voice in the back of his mind that asked him why God would set Heaven ablaze and watch her burn.
One day, he'd asked a priest. His English was improving each day, even though he was introverted and didn't talk very much, so he could now communicate with people quite well.
"Why did God burn 'eaven down?"
The priest had been surprised by that, and had asked Near to sit down with him. "You are cynical, for one so young."
Near hugged one knee to his chest, wishing it was his mother, and curled his hair around his finger, just like his mother used to. His Optimus Prime toy lay in his lap - he always took it everywhere with him, treating it as if it were Heaven herself.
The priest sighed and sat down beside him. "I'm not really sure what you mean, to be honest," he said in his thick English accent - Near had learned a while ago that that was why everyone spoke funny around here.
Near had looked at the priest and remembered his mother's screams as the fire licked at her skin. "God burned my 'ouse down, and le ciel - 'eaven - too. Why did 'e do eet?" he asked. His speech therapist wasn't happy with him - he stubbornly refused to completely let go of his French accent, because it was the only thing left that his mother had given him, other than his toy.
The priest sighed again and asked, "What do you mean, God burned down 'ea- I mean, Heaven?"
"'e killed my muzza. She died in an 'ousefire," Near replied quietly. He missed his mother; her laugh, her smile, the scent of her perfume, the way her hair tickled his face when she hugged him, her ever-present warmth, the feeling of safety that seemed to surround her.
"Oh, my dear boy, I am so sorry for your loss," the priest had mumbled quickly, as if Near hadn't already heard it from every other person he'd ever met in England. "You must understand, God didn't want your mother to suffer. He decided that it was time for her to join him, in Heaven."
"She eez 'eaven," Near insisted as he shifted away from the priest's pitying eyes.
The priest had given him a small smile then. "Heaven isn't one person, child. Heaven is a Divine place from where God watches over us all, and, if we live our lives without sin, we can join him when we die."
"'e killed 'er. I don't want to meet 'im. I just want my muzza back. 'ow do I get 'er back?"
"I... I'm sorry, dear child... But there's no way, until God wants you to join her," the priest replied sadly, before he got up and walked away.
Maybe, Near had thought as he sat on a bench in the church, listening with half an ear to the priest's sermon, maybe, that's why no one wants me. If God doesn't want me, why would anyone else?
Another two months went by, and Near was no closer to getting his Heaven back. He'd still been praying every day and every night, but he'd never heard from his mother, even though he slept with her photograph under his pillow (he'd managed to find a picture of her on the internet, and had printed it off), and Optimus Prime in his arms.
Sometimes, he'd go out to the city and find jobs, make some money for himself - he needed all the money he could get, because the orphanage only supplied him with three meals a day, a (relatively) clean bed, a bathroom, and one pair of clothes.
This time, he couldn't find anything to do and was sitting on a street corner, counting the few coins that he had, when a man approached him.
"You lookin' for some money, boy?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly
Near had looked up and nodded eagerly. "Ou- Yes."
The man gave him a crooked smile and led him to an alley way (it was dark, and made Near nervous). The man started to unzip his pants, and Near wasn't any closer to understanding what the man needed.
"It's just like lickin' a lollipop." The man motioned toward his crotch and Near stared, wide-eyed.
It was sticking up. Surely that couldn't be healthy.
"I don't understand what you want me to do," Near had said. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man's groin. Did it hurt? Was it uncomfortable? What did the man want Near to do about it?
The man stepped closer and pushed Near to his knees, saying, "It's like a said, boy. Just like lickin' a lollipop." The man pulled Near's head closer to his crotch, and Near tried to pull away, because the man's hand on the back of his head was hurting, but it didn't work. "Get to work, boy," the man growled.
When Near didn't do anything (mainly because he still didn't understand what he was supposed to be doing), the man pinched his nose and Near was forced to open his mouth to take a breath. Almost as soon as he did, he found something long and hard and thick and bad tasting pressed against the back of his throat, and Near gagged.
The following few minutes passed by in a blur, filled with vulgar grunts and groans. Finally, when it was over, the man pulled his pants up and ruffled Near's hair. Near flinched away.
"You look so purty when you cry, boy," the man had said as he walked away, leaving Near with a fifty pound note and a bitter taste in his mouth.
As soon as the man had gone, Near had stood up and vomited behind a dumpster, ridding his body of all evidence of his encounter with the man, but he could never get rid of the taste.
He could never get rid of it any of the times after that, either.
During Near's seventh year of life, a man came to the orphanage (Near had realised that that was where he was - an orphanage - and that made him an orphan, didn't it? An outcast, a stray, a wretch, worthless) asking for him, and Near had nervously gone to meet him in Lucy's office, hugging Optimus Prime (a poor substitute for Heaven) close.
The man was old and kind looking, but Near didn't trust him. He didn't trust anyone now, not really.
"Good morning, Nate," the man had said.
"Good morning." With a look from Lucy, Near quickly added, "Sir." Lucy smiled, and Near felt vaguely nauseous. She reminded him of Heaven, sometimes, and he despised himself for thinking that anyone could ever even compare to his mother.
The old man smiled as well, not unkindly, and asked, "How are you?"
"I am well, sir. 'ow are you?" Near had replied politely. His speech therapist still had yet to convince him to start pronouncing things without his accent, even though he was finding speech therapy easy and could speak without an accent quite easily. Sometimes, he pronounced half a sentence correctly, just to irritate the therapist.
The man's smile widened. "I'm well, thank you. Parlez-vous français?"
Near smiled back tentatively, because this man didn't have such a funny voice, and his French was pretty good. "Oui. Etes-vous français?" The question was pointless because Near already knew the answer, but he was trying to be polite.
"Non. Je suis anglais," the had man said, as if Near hadn't already figured it out. "Et vous?"
Near sat down and hugged a knee to his chest, replying with a quiet, "Je suis français."
The man looked over at Lucy and smiled apologetically. "We are being very rude in speaking French, when our host can't understand us." He obviously didn't know that Lucy could speak fluent (though very accented) French. "Now," he continued, "I've noticed that you seem to be doing very well with your studies, Nate... Brilliantly, in fact."
Near nodded. He'd spent the money he earned doing jobs for people (men, mostly) on books and study material, for the most part. There was nothing else to buy, apart from clothes and toiletries.
The man's smile grew so large that Near wondered if it was hurting. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you here, Nate," the man said. "I manage an orphanage for bright children, such as yourself. I was wondering if you were interested in coming to live at Wammy's House and continuing your education there. We will supply anything you need - clothes, toiletries, cellular phones, music players, laptop computers-"
"I don't need all of zat," Near interrupted quite rudely. "I 'ave everysing I need already, Mr..."
"Oh, forgive me. My name is Roger Ruvie, but you may call me Roger." Roger's smile didn't falter. "I'm sure that you'll find Wammy's to your liking, Nate. The orphanage itself is a mansion from the Victorian era, with over two hundred rooms. You may share a room with another child, if you like, but you're perfectly welcome to your own. We have every art supply, musical instrument, and piece of sporting equipment you can imagine. Most of the grounds consists of a forest, a park, and a lake. In addition, we own a library, a chapel-"
"I'll go," Near had said immediately after hearing the word 'library'. He loved reading - it was the only thing left apart from Heaven that he had to be passionate about.
Roger's smile turned positively radiant as he replied, "Obviously, I can't ask you to leave right away - you must have things to gather-"
Once again, Near interrupted the man. "No, I 'ave everysing I need right 'ere."
Near's most prided possessions were the bible that he'd bought with his own money (he didn't like to think about how he'd earned it), his toy, and the photograph of his mother (which still remained under his pillow when he slept, and in his pocket at all other times). He'd picked all three up that morning, because, before he'd been called to Lucy's office, he'd gone to church.
"Very well then. Would you like to say goodbye to anyone?" Roger asked as he stood up.
Near turned around to face Lucy. "Lucy," he said softly, "Merci... You 'ave been..."
Lucy smiled and said sadly, "I'm going to miss you, Nate."
"And I you, Lucy," he whispered, staring at the ground. How could he say this- this lie? He missed Heaven, he missed his mother, and nothing could ever compare to that.
Lucy's lower lip trembled as she got up and gave him a short hug. Near felt distinctly uncomfortable, feeling her hands on him.
Roger clapped once, still smiling. "I'm afraid we must go now, Nate."
Near said a quick goodbye to Lucy and followed Roger out of the orphanage, reflecting on the fact that he was leaving his home of two years forever, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
As Near got into Roger's limo (he knew that most children his age would be squealing with glee by this stage, but he couldn't bring himself to care - this whole experience would be so much better if his Heaven still existed, and it could've been avoided completely if she did), he saw Lucy watching him from a window on the third floor - her office window, then - and Near gave her a short wave. He didn't see if she returned the gesture, because the door closed and they were driving away before Near had even sat down properly.
"Now, Nate, for safety purposes, we can't give out your real name. You'll be known as... Near. Please refer to yourself as Near from now on," Roger's voice said over some form of PA system.
Near nodded and hugged his knee. "Do I 'ave to earn my own money?" he asked apprehensively. He didn't fancy much the idea of doing more jobs.
"Good heavens, no! Everything you need will be supplied to you."
Near let himself relax slightly at that. As long as he didn't do anymore jobs, he might be able to redeem himself, scrape away the filth, and see his Heaven again when it was his time.
"One more thing, Near... I'm sorry to say this, but you're going to have to disguise your accent. Ms. Harper-" Lucy, Near supposed, "-told me that you've been taking speech therapy, so it shouldn't be too hard for you."
"I understand," Near lied. He didn't understand what his accent had to do with anything. He was from France and he was proud of it - his mother had made him that way - so why did everyone insist that he had to get rid of the only thing that tied him to her?
"You may go to sleep, if you like. The drive might be quite long," Roger said.
Near had no intentions of falling asleep in this stranger's car, but his worn-out body betrayed him, and he was asleep only a few minutes after Roger's announcement.
When he woke up, it was to a dark, inky, suffocating blackness and the sound of gravel crunching beneath tires. For one short moment, Near imagined that he'd finished a job and the trick had left him unconscious in the alleyway again - it had happened to him more than once.
Roger's voice broke through his thoughts. "Near, glad to see you've woken up. We're here."
Near made to look out the window, only to find that it was tinted and he couldn't see anything out of it. He waited (im)patiently for the car to finally stop, and practically jumped out of the car when Roger opened his door.
Roger smiled and put a gentle, heavy hand on his head. "I'm sure you'll like it here, Near," he said as he led Near up a driveway and into a giant mansion which, true to Roger's word, looked like it was from the Victorian era.
Near wanted to shrug Roger's hand off (he'd long since started associating things on his head with jobs and tricks) and fought away the shiver that threatened to run through his form - it was cold and he was scared.
"Now, I've told some children that you'll be coming tonight, so don't be surprised if the whole lot of them are up and waiting," Roger said in a sort of soothing way that reminded Near of a man he'd once seen trying to settle a rabid dog down.
Is that what I am to him? Near thought to himself as he watched Roger open a heavy-looking set of doors. A rabid dog to be pulled under control?
As the doors opened, Near was nearly blinded by the sheer amount of light coming from this place, and deafened by the noise. When he cautiously followed Roger inside, there was a sudden silence, and Near wish now more than ever that his Heaven was here.
"Everyone," Roger said, his voice loud, "This is Near. Near, this is everyone."
Near clung to Optimus Prime for dear life as he hesitantly stepped out from behind Roger's legs and stared at the hundreds of eyes that were glued to him. He didn't want to be here; maybe he should've just stayed with Lucy, where he was relatively safe.
Roger patted his shoulder lightly and whispered, "Introduce yourself."
"Hello," Near managed to squeak out, his voice ridiculously high.
He was met by a deafening silence.
Near turned to Roger and tried to tell the man that he really didn't want to do this, but he was cut off.
"Off to bed, all of you!" Roger shouted, and the eyes reluctantly tore their gaze away from Near as their owners trudged off to bed. "Unfortunately, since this morning, there's been a change in sleeping arrangements, and the room that I intended for you to have is now being used. This means that you're going to have to share with someone. Is that okay?"
Near nodded and followed Roger (much like an obedient dog) to his room. Near marvelled at that phrase - his room. He hadn't slept in a room that didn't have at least four other children in it for two years.
Roger stopped outside a plain, black door and said, "You'll be sharing this room with Mello. If you don't get along with him, we can find you another roommate. Don't be afraid to let us know if anyone's bullying you or making you feel unwelcome, Near." Roger ruffled Near's hair and didn't seem to notice when Near winced. "You'll find everything you need in there, and you have an attached bathroom. I should warn you - the bathroom is shared with two other rooms, so don't be alarmed if you see other boys in there at any time. Now, I think that's about all I have to say. Have a good night, Near. I hope you enjoy your time at Wammy's." With that, Roger turned around and walked away, leaving Near completely alone in the relatively dark corridor, and wishing for some kind of safety.
At least, at Lucy's, Near could be himself to some degree. Now, he couldn't even speak normally. Every word he said would be forced and not at all his.
With a quiet sigh, Near slowly opened the door and tip-toed into his new room. From the dim light provided by the corridor, Near could see that there were two beds in the room - each on opposite walls - with a large window and bookcase on the wall opposite the door. There was a wardrobe just beside the door, and Near saw another door at the foot of one of the beds, which no doubt led to the bathroom.
"Could you shut the bloody door?"
Near looked up at his new roommate, who was sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes groggily. "Dé- Sorry," Near mumbled apologetically and lowered his gaze to his feet.
"Yeah, sure. Now shut the door and go to sleep," his roommate grumbled as he lay back down and groaned.
Near grabbed a pair of pyjamas out of the wardrobe and shuffled to the bathroom. It was bright and big and quite similar to the one that used to be in his old house, the one he'd lived in with his mother; the only difference was that there were a lot more of everything, and they were all in separate stalls.
He quickly stepped into a shower stall, undressed, and washed. The water here was nice and warm (though nothing could ever compare to the warmth of Heaven) and it was so much easier to wash away the repugnant layers of grime that always seemed to cover him than it had been at Lucy's, where the water was always cold. It was strange that no one else seemed to have noticed the filth, but Near didn't pay that fact any attention, because no one really noticed anything about him anymore. His mother would've noticed, but he didn't expect anyone to be able to live up to her standards, and, if even God didn't want him, why would anyone else even pretend to?
He lathered and rinsed his hair three times before he was satisfied, and did the same to the rest of his body, scrubbing until his skin burned. Finally, when he was done, he stepped out of the shower and dressed at a swift pace - being naked felt awkward to him, especially since he'd started taking jobs.
"Who the hell are you?"
Near looked up and quickly finished doing up the buttons on his pyjama shirt. "I am Near. Who are you?" he asked, pleased with the fact that his voice sounded relatively accent-less.
The boy looked to be around thirteen, and had dark skin and hair. He looked extremely thin, maybe even skinnier than Near, but quite healthy. "I'm Abel," he replied.
Near noticed with detached interest that Abel had used Spanish pronunciation when saying his name, which prompted Near to think about just how many different nationalities were being housed under Wammy's roof.
"What are you doing?" Abel enquired. He was easily six inches taller than Near, if not more, and Near backed up subconsciously.
"Showering," Near replied quietly as he picked up his Optimus Prime figurine and fiddled with its arms.
Abel nodded and sat down on the counter where the sinks were. "You're new here," he said.
Near didn't know whether or not he was supposed to reply to that, so he kept quiet.
"Who's your roomie?"
"Mello."
Abel frowned, and Near wondered if he'd done something wrong. "Look, kid..." Abel began, and Near shivered lightly at this newest address - sometimes, that's what tricks would call him when he was working. "Mello, he's..." Abel ran a hand through his hair. "Just... be careful, alright?"
Near nodded tentatively and retreated back into the bedroom, where he put his dirty clothes in the hamper inside the wardrobe and lay down on his bed. The mattress was much softer than the hard, lumpy one he'd had at Lucy's, but it just didn't feel right - nothing had felt right since his Heaven had died.
"Are you my new roommate, then?" Mello suddenly asked.
"Yes," Near answered quietly. It was dark in this room, and cold, and he was scared.
"Just stay out of my way."
Near shrugged to himself and hugged his knees and Optimus Prime (the one last piece of Heaven that he had left), wishing that his mother was there to tuck him in and tell him a story and kiss him goodnight and tell him how much she loved him.
If he concentrated really hard, he could almost hear her whispering in his ear, "Je t'adore, Nate." And if he focussed even harder, he could almost feel her lips brush softly against his forehead.
Almost.
Near curled around himself tighter and buried his face in his pillow. J-Je t'adore, Maman. Je te m-manques beaucoup...
--
Okay. So. Yeah, that was pretty crap.
Anyway, for those of you who can't understand my disgustingly bad French (and I can't say that I blame you if that includes you), here is the translation! Fear not, there won't be much more in later chapters...
Bien sûr, il est, Nate - Of course it is, Nate
Ciel est l'endroit où vous sentir en sécurité et chaleureux et aimé - Heaven is where you feel safe and warm and loved ('Ciel' doesn't literally mean 'Heaven' - it means 'sky', but it's the closest I could get)
Le ciel est ici - It (Heaven) is right here (This actually means 'The sky is here', but... Oh well. My French is poor, and this is the best I could do)
C'est là que vous allez vivre à partir de maintenant, Nate - This is where you'll live from now on, Nate
Je m'appelle Nate/Lucy - My name is Nate/Lucy
Enchantée - Pleased to meet you (I think that it literally means 'enchanted'. You're not meant to translate it literally - it's more akin to 'Pleased to meet you' (because 'I am enchanted' sounds stupid). This is the feminine form of that word - if you want the masculine form, just chop off the 'e' on the end.)
Il s'agit de votre chamber - This is your room
Parlez-vous français? - Do you speak French?
Oui. Etes-vous français? - Yes. Are you French?
Non. Je suis anglais. Et vous? - No. I am English. And you?
Je suis français - I am French
Merci - Thankyou (Anyone who didn't already know that deserves to be shot)
Je t'adore, Maman. Je te manques beaucoup - I love you, Mom. I miss you so much ('Je t'adore' is used here, rather than 'je t'aimé', because 'je t'aimé' is ambiguous and can mean anything from 'I like you' to 'I love you (romantically)'. 'Je t'adore', I think, is more appropriate for family love. I don't know about you, but I'm really not too big on the whole incest thing...)
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So... Love it? Hate it? Want to shoot me? Let me know! :D