AN- Mello calms a bit here...-Kani
When they came to release Mello, as he'd already begun referring to himself, they didn't dare touch him. One released the strap on one arm and allowed him to work himself free. He stood, self-consciously brushing his black cotton pants smooth, and refused to look at any of them. Four people were assigned to him, apparently, this small team of young assistants. They knew about his…deviance, but they would not punish him for it?
In truth, that was a grand relief. In the…the other place, they'd done nothing but punish him, forcing him to study his scripture, and whipping him when he dared be insolent. God saw fit to give him a big mouth, and while he wasn't the most courteous of people, he figured that if he spread the gospel while lashing out at his enemies, God would forgive him something. Maybe not his deviance, but he would forgive him something.
They led him back to the room in silence. He realized that it was a bedroom, really, and that they'd removed the furniture to keep him there. He paused outside the door, speaking to his captors for the first time. There was an ice in his voice, a coldness that they had nothing to do with.
"May I bathe?"
"Huh?"
"May I bathe?" He held up a lock of his hair, glaring at it in disgust. "I'm filthy, and I wish to be clean."
One of them spoke up…Eric, he guessed, the one with the kind eyes and big grin. "I'll have to ask, but I'll let you know. What did they name you?"
"I am to be called Mello."
"Well…I'm Eric. We're supposed to take care of you until you get settled in. If you want, I can fetch you some new clothes."
"This place would dress me as well?"
"Yes, in almost anything you want." Mello eyed him suspiciously. What kind of place offered that kind of service for no reason? Was this some ploy…to get him to trust them? He glanced down at his baggy pants and bare chest and decided that it didn't matter. He felt terribly self-conscious, and the pack of men standing around him certainly wasn't easing his tension.
"I don't know what you want from me, but I would appreciate the clothing later." He paused, and then ventured the question that had been haunting his thoughts since he awoke strapped to the chair. "I am not allowed to leave here, am I?"
Eric shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. We have assumed legal guardian ship of you…and in truth, we've bought the right to take care of you."
"You bought me?" Mello's fist clenched as the word slave echoed through his head like a blacksmith's hammer.
"No! No…we did not buy you…we do not own you. We merely paid the fools so that we could take care of you here." Mello was not reassured.
"And what of the other children?" Eric smiled.
"Well…from what I understand, once you were safe, they called the government on the orphanage…neglect and abuse charges. They've all been moved and dispersed."
Mello nodded more to himself, leaning in the doorway to his room. "God saves his lambs…Tell me, how long must you keep watch on me?"
"Until you are no longer deemed a threat to yourself, or the other children."
"There are other children here?"
"Oh yes. We adopt from all over the world. Roger will be along shortly to give you the tour, if you feel you are ready."
"If he holds his agreement, then I shall be fine. No one touches me, no one drugs me."
Eric waved the others off, and they headed down the hall to the stairs. He smiled at Mello for a moment, wonder in his voice. "You have no idea what you are, do you?"
"A sinner, vile spawn of mortal men, with weakness in my heart and soul…the list is quite lengthy."
"I meant your mind."
"No." Mello shifted, arms still crossed defensively over his chest, hugging himself so tight that the beads of his rosary pressed red marks into his skin. Eric shook his head, and pulled out his key ring.
"You'll find out soon enough, I suppose. I'll go talk to Roger about clothes and a bath. Are you hungry yet?"
"I do not eat much…and I am accustomed to eating the little that I do around sunrise."
"It will be taken care of." He waved Mello into the room, and he stared at the door as it closed, once again alone with his thoughts. The sedative was still clinging to his system, and it made him ill. Mello had always been highly sensitive to drugs and medication. His body either processed them too quickly or they had little to no effect at all. They'd barely dosed him, but he felt as though they'd tried to knock a horse unconscious.
He paced furiously, doing laps around his tiny room for as long as his legs would carry him, walking the last of it off. He didn't know what time it was, so he recited his evening prayers anyway, just to be safe. The sun had seemed rather low in the office window.
He paused.
It had been a nice window. It was a strange thing, something a normal child might not have noticed he supposed, but it had been…big. The quarters he'd had at the run-down monastery-turned-orphanage had a hole in the wall. It allowed just enough sunlight into his room for him to know when he should pray. Each night, he could count between eleven and twenty-two stars through that little window…if the glass was not foggy. The window in the office…had been real. Wooden sill, and wrought iron…glass as clear as spring water.
A knock sounded at his door. The paranoia returned, along with a sarcastic amusement. They locked him within these doors, and then knocked? As though he could grant or deny them entrance. He didn't honor the attempt at politeness with a witty remark…it was almost beneath him.
Pride.
Father forgive.
The pacing resumed as the lock clicked open.
"Mello?"
"Eric?"
"Yes. There is a bath ready for you if you still want it. I've brought you a change of clothes…Roger will take you from the bathroom for your tour." Mello hesitated, a hand fisting around his crucifix.
"I will follow."
XXXX
"Must they follow us?"
"They only follow because you proved difficult in the first place, Mello."
"Hmm." Mello walked along side the older man, a careful distance between them. If he could have, he would have behind him, or far in front. He did not trust him at all. 'Wammy House' was extensive, however, and he dared not stray too far. There were children everywhere, ages three to twenty or so. Some studied, most played, either by themselves or in small groups. He dared not get lost because they did not know what he was…he may corrupt them.
He did not know if his deviance was contagious, but he decided to be the bigger man and not risk it.
Roger led him through the place, with his small pack of guards a few feet behind, trying to stay out of the way. Mello just took in his surroundings with a critical eye, his hand shoved deep into his pockets. They'd given him a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Roger had been surprised to realize that his hair was naturally that straight…it fell straight and swung when he walked, blonde as corn silk when freshly washed. He seemed a bit more himself once he was clean again. Still he walked as though waiting for someone to kick him.
He was entirely distrustful of them. He was waiting on someone to pull the rug from his feet and proclaim it all a joke, tell him to get on his knees and recite the old testament like the heretic he was.
They passed the library, and a figure in white caught his attention. He refused to enter the room, pausing just outside the door. Roger turned in surprise when he realized he wasn't there anymore. The kid in white, a boy working a white puzzle…looked up quietly.
"Mello…what is it son?" Mello's blue-grey eyes locked with those empty black ones, and his hand came out of his pocket to hold his crucifix. Roger looked between the two of them.
"Mello…this is Near."
"I don't care what his name is." Neither moved, their eyes never twitching from the other's. Something was decided then, and the old man glanced between the odd pair, confused.
"Mello, that's quite rude of-"
"I said I didn't care. I don't like him." Near brought a hand slowly to his hair; wrapping a lock around his finger and tugging at it painfully hard. His face remained impassive, and Mello watched him warily. Every thing about this kid didn't sit well with him. Something was off, something was wrong.
"Roger, I will not come in there. I see it, it's a nice library, now let's go." Mello hadn't even glanced around the room yet, but Roger seemed to sense that he'd missed something. Mello stepped to the side, careful to maintain his distance as the elder slipped past him. Near nodded to him once, and returned to his puzzle. Mello didn't favor him with a response as he turned and left.
XXXX
"Roger?" The old man paused to look at him. Mello shifted from foot to foot, looking up and down the hall. He really didn't like being this exposed, this…helpless. That's really how he felt he supposed. He suddenly found himself at the mercy of these people, and he did not like it.
It was one thing to be back at the monastery…at least he knew them…knew what to expect from them. This was unfamiliar in the extreme though. He quite literally felt like a cat being carried into a river.
"When do I begin classes?" Roger's white eyebrows rose, but a smile lit his face. Mello looked away. He didn't like it when people smiled at him…especially men.
"If you're up to it already, I'll give you a list of what we offer. You can pick your own schedule."
"I decide what I have classes in?"
"Yes…and what time. All we require is that you actually take classes." Mello absorbed this carefully. Kids went running by the hallway, screaming in laughter, and he looked away. He still was not used to…freedom. He could go where he pleased, do what he liked here.
"I'll put you in a single room tonight…you can have it to yourself for as long as you require solitude. I understand that you've gone through some hard times and-"
"Do not speak of it. Do not ever speak to me of it. I don't care what you think you know, my business with the Lord is mine and his. You had no right to interfere."
"We shall see about that. Come, I'll take you to the clothier."
"Roger?"
"Yes, Mello?"
"I…I want to see a priest." Roger turned to look at him. Mello had a firm resolve about him…it was almost sad to this slip of boy try to be so much more. He had the potential but he had, until recently, lacked opportunity. Roger nodded to himself, resolving to bring the youth back to earth.
"We have one that visits weekly."
"Will he hear confession?"
"Yes." Mello relaxed slightly, and shoved his hands back in his pockets. Roger gestured, and he followed again.
At least he had a priest.
