So this story is going to be a little slow, but that's because I don't want it to be rushed. There are no important events in the first chapter, just preparing you for the real plot. I know its beginning is not the most original, but that's the best way I could write it.
Ryuk and Matt will meet right in the next chapter. Also, I will be switching between their POVs, starting with Matt.
Rated T for minor cursing.
I hope you enjoy reading this, and if you don't, wait till the next chapter because that's where the story actually starts :)
This fanfic takes place in Wammy's House in an alternate universe, where Kira does not exist, but Ryuk is still a shinigami and there is such thing as a Death Note.
BANG! CRASH! THUMP! BOOM!
Boom? That's new. Looks like he's started to blow shit up too.
Ugh, and I was just thinking today was a good day, with the sun shining, birds singing, cats wailing and all that cliché crap, but noooo, it's ranking day and they just have to ruin a poor gamer's peaceful slacking. Let me tell you, nothing good comes out from ranking day, I've learned that the hard way.
I couldn't care less about rankings actually, I don't want to be "The Great L", it has never been my dream. So you find me sitting around in the room I share with Mello and playing my hands off.
I sigh and roll around, plopping on my stomach, the bed shifts slightly under my weight and the wood creaks in the most annoying sound.
I just lay there; with my hands working frantically on my beloved DS and...Awh crap, I've never been able to get past this level, and I'm already beginning to lose again. I should be ashamed of myself; my record's going down the drain.
You may be wondering why I'm not reacting to my best friend's almost bringing down the orphanage, causing our possible death, and cursing in seven different languages. Well, after a few bruises and a few more broken teeth, I've learned not to stand in his way when he's on one of his infamous temper tantrums. I'd like to keep all my organs exactly where they are, thank you very much.
It's getting boring actually; same thing happens every week. Mels looks at the scoreboard, finds out he's been ranked second again, losing to that cotton candy dude and all hell breaks loose. Every single week, he has to make at least one person cry and mutilate no less than two valuable pieces of furniture.
Last Tuesday, Linda was sent for extensive therapy. Poor girl, yelling "Not the chocolate!" over and over again like a mantra. I'm too scared to ask what he's done to her; I've already seen a lot of mentally scarring things, most of which were induced by our beloved chocoholic psychopath.
The aftermath is as bad as the tantrum itself, because of course; I'm the one who has to clean up all the shit he broke down. He doesn't want his manicured nails to be chipped now, does he?
Speak of the devil, here comes my favourite PMSing blond, stomping like a herd of elephants on crack, causing a 3.8 Richter earthquake. (Yes, sometimes I DO pay attention in class. When the teacher has found all my games' hiding places, I need to spare some time to glare him down, I happen to catch a few words every once in a while) Anyway, if I didn't need all my limbs intact, I would burst out laughing in his face right there and then.
He looks like an asylum escapee, with his usually neat, oh-so-perfect hair sticking out in every possible direction, some of his strands smeared with what I hope is chocolate sauce and his ice-blue eyes are rolling around madly in their sockets. Heh, he looks like B's long lost blond brother.
I roll off the bed, dropping gracefully on the floor, almost dislocating my shoulder, and I stay there.
I just stare at him, my game long forgotten –which is a first, actually. Yay me! Okay, that sounded…quite homosexual. - Anyway, he's tapping his foot impatiently, muttering under his breath and smoke is practically coming out of his nostrils. I'm trying so desperately to hide my guffaw. If only cameras were allowed in Wammy's House, I'd be able to blackmail that ass for years to come.
"What the hell are you staring at, you retard?" he snarls sweetly –note the sarcasm- effectively snapping me out of my evil, conspiratorial thoughts. Ouch, that's a bit harsh, even for Mello. Awh, he's staring at me in his I'll-make-sure-you'll-die-a-very-painful-death way.
Really, he's such a sweetheart, spreadin' the love everywhere, loved by all people.
Not in the mood for another broken rib or twisted ankle, I purse my lips prissy librarian-style and shake my head solemnly. "Nothing," I manage to say in my most innocent voice.
"That's what I thought," he growls threateningly, throwing himself on the bed previously occupied by yours truly.
He's starting to calm down. Cool, I'm not going on a trip to the hospital today. I relax and let out a quiet sigh that goes unnoticed by Mello, who's still fuming into the poor, unprepared pillow.
Being the considerate, understanding, awesomesauce friend I am, I wordlessly shuffle across the room and open the bedside drawer, shove my hand inside and draw it again, revealing a bar of chocolate wrapped in my gloved fingers.
I watch him in amusement as he lifts his head, sniffing around slightly. His eyes light up as he snatches it away from me with more force than necessary, causing me to yelp in pain. He tears the wrapper at an inhuman speed, sinking his teeth into the chocolate and losing himself in its "heavenly comfort" or so he usually says. He nods slightly in a silent "thanks" because he's too much of a badass to utter such a wimpy word.
"Sod off," he snaps harshly. I obey him quietly, picking up my DS and sitting cross-legged on the floor, waiting for him to say something.
A few moments pass in silence, the only sounds breaking it are the beeping noises coming out of my game and his familiar occasional crunching.
I hear him clearing his throat slightly and I roll my eyes, half expecting what he's about to say.
"I'm…" he hesitates and chokes a bit, like the word waiting to come out is killing him slowly.
Mello and his pride.
"I'm s…s…are you hurt, Matt?" he mutters in one quick breath. Typical of him not to say that he's sorry. Can't say I'm surprised.
I pause and look up from the virtual battle I'm going through to flash him a small smile. "I'm fine," I say shortly.
I'm still hurt, but I know he never means anything he says or does when he's angry. He always does that, so there's nothing new. In fact, he's become so predictable that by the time he came harrumphing into our room; I had had all of his words and acts completely expected. I would never tell him that, though. It could kill him.
Our peaceful silence is interrupted by a timid knock on the door and when I grunt in approval that whoever's at the gate of doom -That's what I've called our door, it sounds much cooler- may come in, the door is slowly swung open, revealing a slight, dark haired girl, who takes in a deep, seemingly calming breath before she comes in.
"Umm…Mello?" she asks in an annoyingly soft voice.
"What the hell do you want?" he snaps at her, his eyes flashing with anger, AGAIN. Oh great.
"Look, I'm sorry you're…s…second again," She utters the word "second" quickly as if it's a curse. "You deserve much better than that."
Is she hitting on him or something?
She closes her eyes, waiting for Mello to throw a vase at her small face, but she gets no response.
"Oh, and Roger told me to tell you that your friend's third again," she adds as an afterthought, not even sparing me a glance. Yeah, that's not rude at all. Fine by me, she's weird anyway.
When he still ignores her, she silently backs away, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.
She doesn't even know my name; she addressed Mello in something concerning me, as if I was nonexistent. I may seem like a chilled gamer who doesn't give a shit, but this crap matters to me. Come to think of it, people have always referred to me as "Mello's follower", "The redhead" and "That gamer dude", they only talk to me when they're too scared or creeped out to speak to Mello directly and not once have I seen anyone approach me for something not Mello-related.
I frown as I find myself consumed by anger that I never dared to feel before. In a moment of pure fury, I throw my DS to the opposite wall, shocking Mello into a weird facial expression.
Luckily, the game's unaffected. Good stuff.
He's about to talk, but I shut him up with a silent glare. He falters, knowing that my rare anger is a sign for something serious.
At a loss for words, he reaches out for another chocolate bar. I look away, staring out the window and blowing my overgrown bangs away from my eyes in frustration.
After all, it's not everyday that you learn you're an absolute nobody.
Life's good.
I wrote this twice, it was exhausting, since I'm an average writer.
If you have time and patience, please include the answers to these questions in your review (provided that you review in the first place :D)
1. Is the idea original? Is it well written so far?
2. Are the characters too OOC?
3. Did the first chapter bore you?
4. Not enough description? Too much of it? Just the right amount?
5. Do you like me writing it in the present tense or is the past tense better?
If you don't have the time or patience, just review anyway, it would mean so much to me because that's how I would know what people actually think about my writing :)
Thanks for reading :D