Years had gone by since then, since that month, and I knew the fucker wouldn't grace me with his mighty presence willingly. But I needed that picture. That god. Damn. Picture. And hey, reunions are always a joy. I found him. He was doing well for himself. Well, besides the whole putting his life on the line thing.
"So, how long do you think we have to live, Near? Which one of us is gonna die first?" I muttered the words quietly but taking care to distinguish the syllables, drawing each word out to make sure he could hear me as I drew closer to his hunched, anonymous, backside.
"You, obviously," he responded without a second thought. Ha, well, that's one thing I liked about that shitbag, he didn't bother with the preservation of anyone's feelings, especially mine, "because I'm not going to die; you know I'm going to win. Do you not remember what I told you? Do you not remember what you saw?"
I don't know why the fuck I thought I could startle him. Am I really still losing? And did he really need to remind me? He's still fucking retarded I guess, and oh look, I guess he's still playing with puppets. Gee, I thought he'd move on to dildos or something by now. (Maybe he keeps them out of sight, but who am I kidding?) After all, he's an even bigger fag than I am. But who gives a shit? There's really only one reason I came here.
"I came here to get that picture. Hand it over, bitch."
"….ah well, looks like I'll have to give away one of my precious treasures. You know, between you and me, looking at that hair of yours still makes me—" Ugh, scratch out that part about liking any aspect of his ridiculous persona whatsoever.
"Don't finish that fucking sentence. Just hand it over." And that's when he turned towards me and I finally saw what that month had taught me. He had everyone fooled but me. I saw it right away…he wasn't doing so well for himself after all.
And it flooded back to me like a downpour as he handed me that glossy faded photograph. As I turned to leave. As I saw the fear and exhaustion in his eyes that nobody else could see. Oh Near, you've fooled them so well, but did you really think you could fool the man who knows you the best? I left that blue, monitor-lit room, a fortress of cold machinery, drowning in the songs he sung of his past, present and future. Gasping for air as he pulled me down deeper. Deeper. He wasn't fucking scared of death at all. Of all things that little shit was scared because he couldn't die.
When I came into his small room I was surprised to find a cup of pathetic, crushed flowers shooting out of a pathetic, crushed tin can. Well looky here, did he spruce up his little hidey-hole just for me? Change out of that fucking ridiculous set of pajamas and pop out a bottle of pink champagne and we just might have a ticket to romance here, Near. Not.
"You're welcome to sit wherever you please Mello, but I must ask that you don't disturb me at this point in time. I'm conducting some very important research. Our usual mediator has fallen ill, so our time together will be halved. However, I've made a request that the staff place surveillance cameras in both yours and my rooms to be turned on during our time together. I'd prefer to avoid violent incidences, as I am willingly volunteering for the sake of remedying your frequent…absence of emotional control. You'll be happy to hear, however, that the room has not been bugged. You're free to offer as much verbal abuse as you wish."
"Well, enjoy your fucking research. In the meantime, I'll be looking for that camera so I can get to punching a hole in your dick. With a shoelace. Maybe you should take a trip to the can while you still have the ability to piss in a normal fashion."
"It's impossible to pierce such tissue with even the end of an exceptionally thin shoelace, my dear friend. Oh sure, you'd be able to cause me a great deal of pain, but I'm sorry to tell you that I'd suffer no permanent damage to my genitalia. If anything was to suffer, it would be any form of pride you have in your manhood. I say this from a purely objective and disinterested standpoint, but I'll have you know I'm what many would consider 'well-endowed.'"
Did he really just say that? Oh for the love of god, look at him enjoying himself over there, all smiles. And this isn't the first time he's made a hint at the size of his dick either. Nice try with the whole male pride thing, because you obviously have a good deal of it, Mr. Disinterested. Now, to find that camera…
"Say bye-bye to that shit, Near. You insult me thinking I'm stupid enough to not find such a pathetic piece of trash."
"I knew you'd find it, after all, that was key to my research. I'm observing you, Mello, and to be honest, I don't really care if you hit me, maybe you should think of it as compensation for being my lab rat, so go ahead. You won't be gaining anything out of it. Maybe it's not real compensation after all."
I should have known. To be honest, I knew all along that he was just doing the whole thing for shits and giggles, but he did it again. He beat me by exposing my emotional weakness and anger, and I let him, purely because I was angry. I was insulted. I needed to take back my control of the situation, because today, in less than ten minutes, he'd managed to take it all away from me.
And then I remembered him drawing on that thick, pale printer paper that so closely resembled the shade of his smooth skin. Red marker. There's a red marker in his drawer, and I'm gonna have a little fun. I knew he'd do whatever I asked, or go without resistance when I used force. That kid was a freak of nature, beyond apathetic: he was dead.
"Little shit, get over here. I want you to sit on your bed. You said you'd give me compensation, right?" I managed to pull off poisoning my already aggressive manner of speech (and yes, I know it's fucking aggressive because I practiced) quite nicely.
There was a pause, and he actually looked rather pensive for a change, before he let off a deep sigh. How odd…seeing him look like anything other than a reanimated corpse.
"Very well."
And I saw him walk slowly, deliberately (fucking creep,) to the designated location. I was actually getting pretty damn excited for what I had in store, so I turned to go invade his limited personal belongings, only listening to the creak of his cheapass bed. Rummaging through his shit was actually pretty fun; it was all so fucking pathetic. And then I found it.
I sat next to him, weapon in hand. This was just too great.
"Hold still," and he did what I commanded. I opened the cap with a satisfying click, and smiled before pulling him down. He didn't even look remotely fazed, but what did I expect?
I put the marker to his lips, and god, it was so red it looked like fresh blood. Or maybe a particularly juicy apple just waiting to be bitten, chewed, swallowed. I wasn't lipstick, but it was the best I could do. What the fuck? Was he…blushing?
"Wanna see?" Not that he had much of a choice as I grabbed harshly by his left wrist, pulling him to the nearest restroom. And this was just the beginning of my effort at absolute humiliation. Even if I knew it was impossible, I was allowed to imagine, right?
"Oh wow. I look lovely."
Haha, oh yes you do. That one was actually pretty good coming from a fucking faggot. And I dragged him off again, back to his little cell next to mine. Before I entered that room, closing the door behind me, I saw the door to mine was open. And I saw a quick glimpse of Matt, staring right at me, burning a hole through me with his eyes. He saw me with Near. Good. I'm getting pretty sick of having to live in the same room as that jilted bastard.
"Our time is almost up, according to my clock. Three minutes, Mello. Anything else you'd like to do? Though I must say that by your standards I've more than compensated. You're lucky I'm such a nice guy."
Man, he was just on a fucking roll today, wasn't he? Ba-dump shhh.
"Yeah, one more thing…and just enough time. It's your lucky day, faggot. Lean up and kiss me. And I expect you to act like you want me. Chop chop."
"Okay. Let's sit down then. Though I thought you just told me the other day something about me not 'deserving' a kiss?" He actually looked surprised…this was even fucking weirder than that pensive look he donned earlier.
"That was then, this is now." He responded with another sigh before dropping to the ground in his usual, eccentric postion.
"Once again, very well."
And he actually did it. He grabbed me by my shirt and pulled my lips to his. Hmm, soft. And then, it was over. He shuffled away on his skinny, anemic ass within seconds. Just a peck, really, more than anything else.
"I always knew you wanted to steal my first kiss. I'm flattered, but our time is up. Oh, and please leave that camera behind. I know you put it in your ear, Mello, and I know it still works, seeing as how it was never connected to surveillance to begin with. But you knew that too, didn't you? That's all. Have a lovely afternoon."
God damn him.
I know I'm pretty unreliable as far as updates go, huh? As in...unreliable in terms of years. I've just been writing a lot of my own personal work, and I'm happy to say that I've managed to have a collection of short stories published. To be honest, the thing bombed, and I'm surprised Penguin didn't make me pay them for taking it. Maybe you'll find the thing one day, but I'm sure there won't be any second printing. I'd rather keep my name a secret though, sorry.