Prompt: New Year. I love this one. SO much. Includes little!Mello/little!Matt, little!Near, notsolittle!B/notsolittle!L, little!Light/little!Misa, and mini!Sayu.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or the characters in Death Note. Nor do I own jam cookies or, sadly, a scarf.
~ p a r t o n e ~
The orphanage is peaceful and quiet for once. Of course, it's still very early in the morning, and the kids are exhausted from the previous night's celebrations. Snow falls from overcast skies, filling in tracks made in days past and building up over snowmen and snow angels. The front gate swings back and forth from a small breeze, creaking on its hinges, keeping a steady rhythm that is the only sound filling the air. Ice clings to the steep rooftops of Wammy's house, threatening to give at any moment and land on an unsuspecting passerby.
"Stop hogging the blankets, Mello!" Matt whines.
"Stop breathin' my air, little brat!" the blond retorts, pulling the fuzzy warm sheets toward himself and away from the redhead, who, defeated, scoots closer and hugs his knees in an attempt to make himself as small as possible for less blanket surface area.
Near sighs, stirring his hot chocolate with a spoon. The morning has been quiet — until now. The only ones up and awake and louder than ever are these three. And it's not like Near wanted to get up, but he couldn't sleep with all the arguing going on and it seemed only fair to apply the saying: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Mello, wide awake, hadn't partaken in the New Year festivities late in the evening; he thought they were stupid and pointless, so he woke up Matt for company, Matt who had celebrated the new year with the other kids and was still tired but afraid to go back to sleep lest he face Mello's wrath.
Near takes a cautious taste and winces; it's still too hot to drink. He sets it aside for now and goes to play with the puzzle he'd received for Christmas.
"What— it's not like I can help breathin' your air! It's not even yours to begin with!"
"Get your own goddamn blankets!"
"You took 'em all!"
Matt tugs on the sheets, but to no avail; Mello is stronger than he is, despite his small frame. The redhead kicks blindly, and the two flail their arms at each other and scream loud enough to wake up the entire orphanage. Mello succeeds in grabbing a fistful of Matt's hair and yanks it, hard.
"Ow!!" Tears begin to bud from Matt's eyes.
Mello smiles maliciously, able to see victory now. "Serves you ri—"
Matt is able to get in one last kick, which zeros in on Mello's legs and buckles the boy's knees. With a yell, he comes crashing down on top of Matt. Elbows jab at stomachs and shoulders within the tangled mess of arms and legs and boys and blankets.
Near finishes his puzzle quickly, glad for the challenge but a bit morose — he's done it once before, it's too easy, and now he needs something else to keep his brain active.
Mello is sprawled over Matt, their limbs dangling over the sofa's edges. It's a strange position to be in, but oddly comfortable. There's a silence as they both realize what's happened, but Mello doesn't move. It's actually kinda nice... Matt cranes his neck up to meet angry blue-green eyes and messy hair, then lets his head fall back onto the cushions and laughs. Mello can't help but let a smile creep up; he chuckles, just now catching his breath again. The redhead notices that's it's unlike Mello to not demand an apology for the blow, but considers it payback for the foulplay of hair tugging and ignores the fight.
"Sorry" the two boys say in unison, which causes them both to laugh even harder.
"You are not, Mello," Matt says between fits of giggles.
The blond pouts, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Are too."
"Haha, are not."
"Are too!" Mello huffs.
"Jeez, I'm cold," Matt says, letting Mello win like he always does. "Pull the blankets up, would you?"
Mello lazily turns his head around, reaches for them only to grab at air, and notices the absence of the blankets they'd been fighting over only moments before.
"...Uh." He sees the additional absence of a certain white haired kid, puts two and two together, and seethes angrily. "NEAR!" Mello sits up and scrambles off Matt just in time to see a trail of blankets turning a corner and leaving the room. "Goddammit, fucking...!" He doesn't bother to finish the insult and launches himself after the boy. Matt obediently follows, laughing and practically tripping over his own feet as he clambers off the sofa to catch up with Mello. The thundering sound of feet slapping on hardwood in the empty hallway is probably enough to wake up several sleeping children while the two pass their bedrooms.
Near manages to keep his usual straight face as he outmaneuvers the boys with shortcuts and small hallways and ends up at the same room, back where they'd started. Alone, finally, and with all the blankets to himself, he grins. What a great way to start off the new year.
~ p a r t t w o ~
"You know, I can have Roger bring down those jam cookies you like."
B looks up, his head pressing further into L's chest for a moment, eyes piqued with interest. "Really?"
L gives him a look as if he's wondering whether or not B is serious about not remembering this. It's almost uncharacteristic. "As long as you stop stealing my food," he says, taking another chocolate-covered candy out of its paper cup. B reaches for the tray to grab one too when L slaps his hand and grins down at him, and B laughs. It's not a laugh L gets to hear often, so he caves in. "Fine, one more."
B cheers in quiet triumph and grabs at a candy, touching several surrounding ones as he does.
"Don't do that."
"What?" B licks chocolate off the candy's coating.
L's brow furrows. "It's unsanitary."
"Is there anything relatively sanitary about me?" B asks, in reference to his jam-eating habits. He bites into the candy and grimaces. "Eugh," he says.
"Something wrong?"
B makes a face, holding his throat, refusing to swallow. "It's peppermint or some shit."
"Since when do you hate peppermint?"
"Fuck, since always."
L bends over so he can see B's face. "Do you not want it then?"
He sighs. "I'd rather not have to eat it," he says, making a move to spit it back into the paper cup.
"Don't waste it," L scolds, tilting B's head upward. He bends over further and presses his mouth to B's, tongue asking for entrance that is eagerly granted. His tongue roams around, and breaks from the kiss with the candy now in his own. B licks his lips, grins, and holds up the rest of the candy. L can see its inside now, displayed with teethmarks and all: it was buttercream.
"Gotcha."
L wipes his mouth and averts his eyes. "What a cheap trick."
"But you fell for it anyway," B says gleefully, having won at something for once.
"Maybe I wanted to," says a grinning L.
B stares up into his black eyes, not able to tell what they're saying or if they're even telling the truth. His pale skin actually complements his complexion and serves as a beautiful contrast with the messy black hair that falls over his face. It's something B hasn't been able to copy masterfully — yet. B's hair has yet to fly out carelessly like L's does, but he's given up trying to brush it every day. The bags under his eyes are to him the work of a god and give L a complacently daring countenance, whereas B still uses a fair amount of makeup in his attempt to achieve the same effect. Even L's neverchanging white top & baggy jeans differs from B's attire today — it's red in the spirit of the holidays, or maybe something else. When B looks at L he sees his own admiration, ambition, his desire and determination to surpass L — and the name floating above L's head, accompanied by numbers that mean nothing and yet everything, like a guillotine suspended gravely over his neck waiting to come down. A sickening sort of respect runs through him, causing him shiver, and he turns away from a face that doesn't make him feel any better. B sighs at the same time L does.
"Well, it's a new year, B," L says quietly as he stares at the blinding white light that the snow brings gleaming through the window. No shit, B wants to say, but he holds his tongue and squirms into a more comfortable position between L's legs. B's resting his back against the older boy's chest when he reaches up to wrap his arms around the back of L's neck, interlacing his spindly fingers and noticing for the first time how cold they are. He feels him flinch before L puts a hand on B's head and tousles his hair.
"Unfortunately," says B. It's the only thing he can say.
"Why's that?" L's voice is hushed and slurred, as if he doesn't want to ruin the pretty scene outside by making too much noise. Or maybe he's still a bit drunk from last night's permission of champagne even though he's still underage. He hangs his head over B's, but B doesn't look back at him.
"You know why," he says curtly. He feels pain, longing, mostly frustration. Some is directed at L, but it's mostly frustration with himself. L only nods, not exactly sure how to console someone who doesn't want their best friend and rival to leave. "Can't you just work here?"
"It's not that simple, Beyond." L is the only one who calls him Beyond; he's always let it slide, he just can't say no to him. "I wish it was."
"But it's not fucking fair!" B shouts angrily at the ceiling, which isn't the target of his rage — but he doesn't want to yell at L. Besides maybe that blond kid he's seen around, B has never seen anyone yell or be irate with L. The two can suddenly hear yelling from the other side of the door, followed by loud footsteps and inaudible cursing. Any other time he may have wanted to go out and see who was causing so much trouble, but he's too vexed at the moment to do so. B is at a loss for words, wondering if he'd even planned out at all what to say next. He traces L's vertebrae with nimble fingers, seeing that they're protruding as if ready to burst from his skin. B realizes how easy it would be to pull L further down than a normal spine would allow, to curl his thumbs around the front side of his neck and squeeze, to press deep into the pressure points of the jugular vein and wait for the throb of a heartbeat to flutter and die away. Then maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright — B could keep L for good.
"I'm sorry," says L. It's the only thing he can say.
~ p a r t t h r e e ~
Back in Japan, the Yagami family has celebrated the passing of the old year and is ready for the new one. Snow blankets the small lawn outside their home as Light races outside with small Sayu in tow. Sachiko calls out for them to stay safe in the dark, but as usual Light says an automatic "Sure, mom!" and pulls her along to the park.
"Onii-san," Sayu whines. "I'm cold..."
Light rolls his eyes. We're nearly there! he wants to shout. "I told you to get your scarf," he scolds.
"I thought I wouldn't need it," she says, pouting. She pulls her furry hood farther over her ears with mitten-covered hands.
They're at the park now, which is surprisingly crowded for it being only 5 am or so. A few children their age are making snow angels, while an even larger group of kids have engaged in an all-out snowball fight that seems more like a brawl. Light directs her to the swing set and sets her on the one open swing next to an older blonde girl who's alone, rocking absently back and forth while making the cold metal chains creak and seemingly adding to her loneliness. He removes his own scarf and wraps it snugly around Sayu, who beams happily. "Thanks, onii-san!" Light returns the smile.
"No problem." Light turns to see the blonde girl with pigtails staring at him with large brown eyes that plead for hope, a friend, anything. He gives her a smile, and she wipes budding tears and smiles right back at him.
"Are you all alone?" he asks. He's been considering taking Sayu farther down and to the field so they can get a good spot for the coming attraction, but he doesn't want to leave the girl by herself if he can help it. The girl tilts her head as if she doesn't understand, or as if she merely doesn't know. Light can't take those doe eyes any longer; he stays, giving Sayu a push on the swing now and again.
"What's your name?"
She shakes her head.
"You're parents taught you not to talk to strangers, didn't they?" His parents have told him the same, over and over.
She nods.
"I'm Light," he says, despite all the warnings in his head that tell him not to. He holds a hand out, and the girl takes it eagerly.
"Amane," she says finally, in a slanted tone. Unbeknownst to Light, she gives him her last name.
"Onii-san!" Sayu tugs at Light's sleeve and points in the direction of the field. Ignoring him, she runs toward the growing orange light. Light grins at Amane and grabs her hand.
"Wanna see something cool?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulls her after him and follows Sayu. They stop at the tall crowd that is forming on the field in a thick line. Amane manages to find a boulder to stand on, but Sayu is left on her own, so she climbs over Light and sits on his shoulders.
"Jeez, sis, you're heavy."
"There it is!!" Her voice grows higher in pitch the more she speaks, her excitement growing along with it.
The light grows to a deeper orange, engulfing most of the adults in front of them and casting a brilliantly hued glow on nature's audience. Sayu's eyes sparkle brightly as she shields a hand over her them and gasps in amazement. Light cannot see the sun until it's gone over the adults' heads, but he doesn't mind. Amane covers her mouth in astonishment; this is the first time she's seen such a beautiful sunrise. "So lovely," she breathes almost inaudibly. Light takes Amane's hand and looks up at her, giving her a warm smile that's smaller but somehow even more meaningful.
"Onii-san, onii-san!" Sayu bounces on his shoulders, and Light finds it more and more difficult to keep her up there. He winces.
"What, what?" He's still holding Amane's hand.
"Onii-san, it's the... the hatsuno..."
"It's hatsuhinode, Sayu," Light corrects her.
"Hatsuhinode, hatsuhinode, hatsuhinode," Sayu chants in a sing-song voice, as if demanding an encore of the sunrise, and claps.
Amane squeezes his hand to get his attention. "Light-kun, what's hatsuhinode?"
Light gives her an even bigger smile, showing his teeth this time. "First sunrise."
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