Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: AxBB

Word Count: ~780

A/N: I have always thought of Beyond as a psychopomp. (Also, Alistair = A, for the sake of grammatical sanity. Also, this is the Alistair of The Grave of Alistair Ipswich, but this does not necessarily take place in the same universe. Also, this is part of my seemingly endless series of Beyond Birthday backstory snippets called A Beast, An Angel, A Madman.)

TW: character death, suicide

The Eye of a Little God

"I am not cruel, only truthful,
The eye of a little god, four-cornered." – Sylvia Plath


It is the twelfth day of autumn and Alistair won't be dead for another eight hours. He waits with Beyond in the deep yellow field behind Wammy's, watching pumpkins push their way out of the ground like hatchlings.

"Will you be with me when it happens?" Alistair asks, and flattens a hand against the base of his throat. His medallion leaves an imprint on his skin of a man on horseback sending a spear through the mouth of a dragon.

Beyond tucks in the tag of Alistair's shirt.

"I wouldn't miss it," Beyond says, and lays his head atop Alistair's shoulder. October constellations drag across the sky above them.


Beyond is privy to everyone's deepest secret. The kind of secret that is like a bone, Alistair thinks, to be carried inside forever but never seen.

Beyond clamps his teeth around Alistair's collarbone while they're having sex beneath a skylight in the abandoned observatory on the hilltop. Above them, bats wake with sonic barks that rattle Alistair's eardrums. Wildflowers sprout from the asphalt around Beyond's hair.

"Tell me how," Alistair says, post-climax. His body sinks into the fractured concrete. Beyond lays against him, heavier than his delicate frame suggests.

"That I can't be sure of," Beyond says, pushing his index finger into Alistair's belly button. "I'd always assumed it'd be a suicide."

"Yes," Alistair solemnly agrees.


They learn to tie a hangman's knot together, and attempt four before they are satisfied. Beyond examines it beneath Alistair's desk lamp and says, "Do you believe your path has been decided from the very beginning?"

"I believe in you," Alistair says. He pinches a blister on this thumb and it collapses beneath the pressure. Both his palms are pink with rope burn. A sob lingers in his chest, waiting for a moment to escape. He has never once cried since coming to Wammy's House. All orphans know better. Sometimes a cry attracts a friend, but more often than not, it attracts a predator.

"That's why I'll help you," Beyond says

Alistair wants to kill Beyond, and he also wants to fuck him, and he also wants to press his face against Beyond's kneecaps and say a prayer to St. Anthony, the patron of lost things.

Instead, Alistair wonders how much in his life has slipped away or been omitted, without him ever knowing.


The whippoorwills arrive an hour before Alistair's time runs out. Alistair watches them dive after moths through wispy, ill-defined clouds. His palm leaves an oilslick against the windowpane. He wonders what else will linger, after he is gone.

"The attic is ready," Beyond says, pushing his fingernails into the nape of Alistair's neck. Beyond carries his own weather with him. Storm clouds gather against their bedroom ceiling. The air near Beyond's skin smells of candlewax, electricity, and ozone.

Beyond pulls Alistair's hand into his own.


In the attic, Beyond ignites emergency candles in tin holders. They fill the space with slick, metallic light. For a moment, Alistair fears he is dreaming and that if he wakes, he will not be able to return. He verbalizes this to Beyond, who nods and smiles, in a terse, melancholy way. The shine of Beyond's eyes is hidden admist the darkness of his sockets.

"You won't wake up. I promise," Beyond says, and Alistair believes him.

They stand together for a moment, listening to water drip against bedrock in a hidden corner of the attic. Alistair can feel his heart swelling and shrinking like the dying body of an animal, punctured by a hunter's bullet.

"What if none of this happens? What if everything changes right now?" Alistair asks, staring at the noose swaying from the ceiling.

"You know that isn't possible," Beyond says.


Beyond waits for a long time and, eventually and despite expectation, the sun rises. When Beyond closes his eyes, he sees the lantern of Alistair's soul fading into the far horizon.

He squats atop Alistair's shadow, and traces its outline with his index finger.

The night shifts into a shade of coffin-black.

Outside, the whippoorwills dive after ghosts, mouths hollow and pink.

Fin.