(GAH you guys are SO patient. Thank you! I'm sorry sorry sorry for taking needlessly long to update, but I fail at time management, and the heavy schoolwork + job hunting doesn't help either. So thanks for the patience, and have some free hugs! ^_^)
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note!
Hope
"I … I can't take it anymore." Her voice trembled as she dropped the dish rag to the floor.
Their family had not always been so unstable, so pathetic. They had been happy once, but at hat moment she just couldn't remember why.
"Not this again." A man whined.
They had had family bonding times, had comforted each other, laughed together, making the best out of their less than ideal financial situation. The man had been perfectly fine with such a lifestyle, but the woman had wanted more.
She swiped her hand across the counter, knocking the undried dishes onto the floor. "Just because your fine with being a bum doesn't mean the rest of us are!" She held back those tears that burned harder than acid. "We deserve better than this! I want to work, to make something of myself! I want a real life damn it!"
The man sighed. "We have each other. Isn't that enough?"
But they had had unspoken grudges as well, and that laughter slowly faded with time. The small blond toddler peeked from behind the door, looking for the source of those noises that had kept him from sleeping.
"No! I can't stay here anymore. I'll get nowhere like this." Curse that man who had dragged her down with him. She could have been someone. "I'm gotta get away from this god damned place. From you." She hissed. And then she spotted him, the boy.
"Mihael, come with me." She demanded. "Mommy will take you to a better place." She reached for him.
But he was only three and could not comprehend the situation, only knowing that he was scared. He backed away in confusion.
"Mihael …" She was already furious.
He shook his head sporadically from side to side, not to say "No," but to say "Leave me out of this." Unfortunately, body language comprehension was not a universal skill.
"You … Both of you. I see how it is." Fine! How dare he choose that loser. She did not have to take this. She was better than all of this! She deserved more. She would break away from those who held her back and secure the freedom to make something of herself in her own way.
She would show them. She would show them all.
It wasn't fair.
It was all just chasing an illusion. Every time he would reach the top only to discover that there had actually been another hill waiting for him. The climb never ended. He had worked so hard, harder than any of them, and just as suddenly as he had shot up, his improvement had stopped dead in its tracks. What kind of sick divine prank was this? Near, he hadn't even needed to work hard. Everything just came so fucking naturally to that undeserving punk, and what do those who constantly work themselves to the bone get in return? Where was the justice? He had wanted this more. He had needed this more. Hell, he deserved this more. And it just wasn't fucking fair!
And now here he was, sentenced to temporary solitary confinement and permanent probation. The staff hated his guts, and the children feared him. He would forever be the villain of the House, and one wrong move could get him kicked out for good. Who knows? They might have already even taken him out of the running, which would have been no different than expulsion for him anyway.
Mello sat at the lone desk, both hands clenching fistfuls of hair, still shaken.
The most terrifying part of all was what he had seen in front of him and in himself, traces of that bastard. He was just like him. Useless, insecure, emotional, impulsive, violent. It was an accident, a momentary lapse of judgment. He hadn't meant to. Yet no matter how hard he had tried to justify or deny it, he still ended up being just like him! Damn it. He had lost himself, and now it's too late to take it back. Damn it! Why did it have to end up like this? Mello clamped his eyes shut in an attempt to blot out the tears and the world.
What good came out of any of this? Perhaps he had shown Near his place, but not even that was worth it. It couldn't even be considered victory over Near anyway. The boy scowled. No, it felt nothing like victory. He did not feel proud at all, considering the savage way everything had played out. It was disgusting, shameful really. It anything, he would have been the one who- Mello jumped out of his seat in realization, as both fists slammed onto the desk in utter defeat. Near had won.
Because after this, Mello would never bring himself to directly attack him again. Because now, he was forever marked by the House, watched by the staff, branded by the shame of what resided within him, bounded by it forever. By letting himself succumb to that momentary madness, he had lost control of himself and therefore lost the game, placing himself under that brat's power indefinitely. N had always known where his buttons resided since the beginning, and now the entire fucking House saw him as a psycho. Mello clenched his fists so hard, his palms started to bleed under the pressure of his nails. But what could he do anymore?
He could threaten Near, but he would never be able to attack him. He could raise a fist, but he would never be able to strike. And even if one day, he could point a gun at his back at point-blank range, he would never be able to pull the trigger anyway.
...
Over time, everything became severed. Mello left Near alone, or rather, he actively tried to avoid him, only talking to him if it was absolutely necessary, such as to discuss some group project that they had both been unfortunately assigned to. Because he could not afford to lose himself again. He had to keep his distance from that kid, who was nothing but poison. Near, as well, distanced himself. He never looked up at Mello when he spoke to him, if he had to speak to him at all, anymore. In fact, he no longer even faced him, only conversing when necessary with his back turned. And not just with Mello. Near eventually adopted that practice with everyone.
The staff realized that the more time the two spent together, the more aggravating the situation would become, and the worse it would be for both their psyches, so they finally gave up on trying to encourage any interaction between the two. On the contrary, they opted to separate them even further, never assigning both to the same projects again, having each participate in entirely separate simulation games, placing their seats as far apart as possible in a classroom, hoping that the distance would do them good.
For months, M and N did not utter so much as a syllable to each other. Those were the most peaceful few months Wammy's House had seen in a long time. Underneath that false sense of peace however was an obvious tension, utterly straining. Mello had on more than one occasion broke down in the privacy of his room, more than one occasion questioned himself on whether or not staying around was worth it, seriously considering just accepting expulsion, breaking away from the system that held him back and securing the freedom to make something of himself in his own way. They wanted him gone anyway.
The pressure of forced silence and inhibition along with the neverending studies continued to take its toll on Mello. He constantly berated the system. What good were these paper exams when applied to the real world? Why should he have to restrain his behaviors just because the others were too weak to defend themselves? That's not how the outside operated! Wammy's House. It's rules. He detested them. With its impractical restraints and scoring systems, he could never win here, there was no hope for him left here. He would gaze beyond the gates longingly.
However, if this was the only way to get to L, to remain here, then he had to persevere, and how hard that was.
…
Kira this. Kira that. It had only been two days since the killings, no, murders had started, and it was already a huge topic of discussion at the institution. Everyone at Wammy's hunted for any information regarding the case, and M and N had been no exception. Although L had not publicly announced his involvement in the case yet, there had been rumors. Finally, they appeared to be confirmed when someone leaked the news that L would pay a visit to the orphanage in preparation for some big case, and he did not return very frequently.
Mello's eyes' lit up at the news. He could not miss this opportunity. If he didn't to something about those unanswered questions, he might just snap for good. That night, he requested one last favor at Wammy's from an old comrade.
…
With Matt's help in impairing a few selected surveillance cameras, Mello had been able to easily sneak to what he had predicted to be L's location. He had some lock picking tools hidden in his pockets, but to his surprise, the door had been unlocked, even slightly open. Was this expected?
He decided to knock anyway.
"Yes?" A voice that was both foreign and familiar greeted him. He took a breath.
Neither of them had been one to dawdle (although the detective's odd, unexpected appearance, completely unlike what Mello had imagined, did cause him to hesitate for a few seconds), so Mello cut straight to the chase after making the proper introductions. He wanted to confirm whether or not he was still in the running, as he did not trust the staff.
"As far as I know, and no one's informed me otherwise." L stated, as if it had been so obvious.
"But N outranks everyone, consistently. Wouldn't he be the clear choice, rendering this whole race pointless?" Mello kept his emotions down, attempting to match his tone with the detective's.
"Ah yes, that does make sense. He would be the obvious choice," L paused to nibble at a cupcake, "if he does indeed outrank everyone as consistently as you say. But unless I'm mistaken, don't the two of you have equal wins and losses in those detective games now?" He did not even make a reference to the other exams.
Mello considered the repercussions of his next statement, but if he did not get it off his chest, he might not get the opportunity to do so again. "You know that I often cheat on those." His instinct was to look down, to hide his face, but he mustered enough courage to keep his composure. For some reason, he felt that L was testing him.
There was a pause as the detective unwrapped another cupcake, carefully and cautiously. He looked up at the ceiling, as if he were contemplating. "I also cheat."
The blond blinked. Of course, he had already known that, but to hear that as a response to his own admission of guilt was rather unexpected. He felt almost relieved, but something was not right. The test was still going. "But you still follow the rules."
"Ah, your right," as if he was realizing this for the first time. "So I do." Of course, if a game had no rules, it was not worth playing in the first place.
"I see," said Mello, even though L had not explained anything. "What matters is how clever you can be while still playing by the rules, or rather, how much you can cheat without getting caught. In that case, I suppose I need to find that fine line of distinction." The distinction between a clever detective and a desperate criminal.
"Yes, that would be ideal." L reached for some notes, clearly losing interest.
Mello couldn't stifle it anymore. "But I've already crossed that line." That shameful episode with Near, L had to have been informed already. "They wanted to take me out of the equation, and they came to you for permission, didn't they? But you didn't let them. Instead you kept me. Why?" He wasn't nearly as good at patience and subtlety as Near and L were apparently, but at that point, all Mello cared about was an answer.
"Probably because one of you possess something the other does not. Humans are imperfect beings." He says dispassionately, never once taking his eyes off the notes. "Now the question that remains is who will amend their flaws first."
What? Mello pressed his lips together. What was this, some kind of freak personality evaluation? Still.
"Then I had clearly failed that test as well." He stated. His giving in to violence proved that, and he was practically treated as a criminal now anyway.
L looked down at the blond for the first time since his arrival, observing him with the finger tugging at a corner of his lip. Finally he said, "Let me tell you a story about another potential successor."
Everyone knew who B was, but very few knew the exact details of what had actually happened to him at the orphanage, and even fewer knew the details of what had happened afterward. That night, Mello heard the entire story. It frightened him, because he saw similarities between himself and B. On the other hand, it relieved him, because he also saw the differences. The detective did not disclose his intentions for telling the story, whether it be to warn M not to progress too far or to assure him that he had not progressed that far yet. That was not important to Mello anyway. All that mattered was the knowledge that while some people were lost causes, Mello was clearly not one of them. So L saw the potential in him, potential to improve his strengths and amend his flaws. He had hope for him. At that point, Mello himself knew that he really was worth something. And for the first time, he actually believed it too.
"I understand," said Mello, and that was enough.
"Well, that's good," L mumbled, holding by the corner some more notes that no doubt related to the Kira case. "I'm glad we cleared something up, but as you can see, I'm busy." The detective lifted a teacup with the other hand. "So if you don't mind, I'd like to continue this conversation another time." He took a sip. "You may leave now."
The fact that he intended to continue the conversation meant that there was a second portion to the test. He would re-evaluate Mello at another time, to see whether or not he had indeed changed for the better, both intellectually and emotionally. More importantly, it also meant that he had passed the first portion.
"Do you promise to execute Kira?" Mello dared to ask. "And come back afterward?"
L again stared at this bold, odd teenager with blank eyes, head tilted at a perfect 45 degree angle, as if he was eying not a person at all but some strange specimen. So this boy had already known that he was working on the Kira case even though he had not yet disclosed anything to anyone besides Watari about it. Finally shifting his attention back to the teacup, he stated "Very well, it's a promise." And took another sip. "Now please leave."
The blond nodded once and left without another word. He had not smiled in years, and suppressing that burning one now felt like the most physically demanding task he had ever undertaken. L had recognized his potential. All hope's not lost. Near might have thought he held all the cards, but this man, he's the final trump card, the only one Near did not possess, and the only hope left for Mello to still win at this game. Mello would do anything for him, even if that meant persevering through Wammy's and all of its bullshit. If it would make L see him in a brighter light, give him that one last advantage over Near, he would do it. He may be Mello's only hope left, but thank god, there was still hope at all.
Out of sight and earshot, the adolescent broke into a run, setting free a smile so big and laughter so strong his face and stomach would ache for days.
"Mello,"
He would be good from now on. He would train himself to control his impulses. He would take those anger management sessions more seriously. He would play by the rules, or at least appear to, and when the detective finally returned with Kira's head, as promised, he would be there waiting, waiting for the next test.
"and Near ..."
And he would pass, because L would see an M, one who would be as driven as ever but also more disciplined and focused, more fit for a successor, as he had intended. Mello had newfound strength now. He would handle his emotions and would never again get in trouble with the staff, which translated directly to never again getting caught. L would see the result of his development. He would see how capable his potential, no, his true successor was.
"Please come to my office."
All he had to do now was wait patiently, and he did. For the first time, Mello felt a real sense of self-control to the point where he could confidently call temper a problem of the past. Mello followed the Kira case religiously for any sign of it's ending. He waited diligently for the only man that even mattered anymore, the only man that had, for the first time in ten years, given him a reason to laugh again. And the only man that had, for the first time in Mello's almost fourteen years of existence, finally convinced him that he was anything more than worthless.
"What is it, Roger?"
The staff hated him, and Near still outranked him, but who cares what they think anymore? So long as L saw his worth, he still had a shot. When it came to L, Mello was, for once, a step ahead of Near. He was essentially the boy's last and only hope left here.
"L is -"
But of course, even that had to be taken away from him.
(dfhksdfhlsdkjf.)
