Note: Shorter chapter, but full of events hehe ^^ aaaand... a cliffie, muhahahaha! Sorry for being so mean with the updates, but my apartment being the hellhole it is, I need to reorganize everything because my girlie-girl side wants a real dressing room, because you can't be a real punk lolita if you don't have a dressing, I said so! (Ok, just a bad excuse not to say I have too many clothes and shoes hehehe).
Now that I'm over with the usual stupid rant, onto the chapter! Be careful where you walk, you could trip on a lemon... and I need them for a little squeeze in next chapters!
January 23th, 2007 part 2 (Mello is 17 and Matt almost)
The corridor was still almost untouched, past the entrance door hanging loosely to its hinges. The black and cream tiled floor, dirty with dust and fragments of the half collapsed building, was drawing a line to the opposite wall, but the side walls were absent and only left place to debris and huge pieces of what were previously rooms. Even the large stairs had fell under the weight of the explosion, a few steps still rising up to nothing anymore, the banister continuing a bit further in the air, shards abruptly spiking where it had been broken.
But strangely, this alley and the window in the opposite wall were still standing, the light of this grey winter day bathing the inside remains through partly broken glass. It could almost have been a beautiful sight, if it hadn't been under those circumstances.
Mail stopped in the doorframe, pocketing his gaming console, and looking around him. Mihael stared at him a few seconds, eager to see any reaction from the redhead. Mail then looked at him, blankly, and resumed observing the remains from where he was standing. But apart of that, nothing there seemed to awake any memory to him.
Mihael breathed deeply, trying to erase the sick feeling in his stomach. He could almost revive the scene, the flames, and the ever present smell of ashes and old fire was filling his lungs in an unpleasant way. He had the impression he was breathing the ashes, and that they would suffocate his lungs. He shook his head, willing to get rid of the feeling, and began walking slowly to the window, leaving Mail to his contemplating after a last glance at him to make sure he wouldn't freak out.
"I can't believe it's still standing, all the rest has collapsed all around..." the blond whispered as he brushed over the wood of the window with the tip of his fingers. Far away in the fog, he could distinguish the top of Winchester's cathedral, a sight he had stared at so many times from the bedroom's window, not so long ago. Nostalgia gained him, along with the remembrance of all the good times this bedroom had witnessed: when he had confessed his love to Mail, when they had made love for the first time, all the nights cuddled together and the long talks until early morning...
Why were Mail and him bound to lose everything by fire? It had been the second time, and Mihael wondered if fate would strike a third time. He didn't want to be superstitious, but he was afraid.
Shaking these thoughts from his head, knowing that the only person responsible was MacKenzie, and that he was dead, he turned on his heels, not wanting to let Mail behind too long.
As he walked slowly back, stepping carefully to avoid the various fragments scattered on the floor, he went past what had previously been the common room, and, stopping briefly, remembered how Mail had pulled him through the fire, protecting him from the flames as they tried to reach the front door. After that, all he could remember was coughing, feeling like he was dying from suffocation, and collapsing on the ground. From that moment, no one knew what had happened, except Mail. All himself knew was what he'd been told or what they all had supposed with the few hints they got after the events.
And all those people killed... an act of pure madness. Even if he had never really appreciated anyone in the orphanage, he felt sorry for them: Near, Wammy, Linda, Cassie, May, Roger, Ike...
He knew since he had woken up after the Mafia had found him there why he had never liked L and had always had a bad feeling toward him. But still, someone who had dedicated his life to solving cases and saving lives...
The part of bad in everyone can really be stirred out by this Death Note, it's scary. Light didn't seem so bad himself as a person... it's like signing a pact with the devil, having the note...
And Near... used like this, just like a pawn... maybe he's better dead, I don't know how someone could get over all this after knowing the person you loved like a big brother never really cared. He would have taken him with him, if he cared...
Something he had totally forgotten until now came to his mind. The run in the woods, the mud, L's neck cracking under his grip. Was that enough to have avenged all the Dead from Wammy's?
The blond glanced back at Winchester's cathedral's roof in the mist, he would have to go there once they would be done here. He crouched, and, with his index, drew a cross in the dust covering the tiles.
"Rest in peace, all of you..." he murmured, before straightening, and looking in front of him, where Mail was waiting, still looking all around him quite surprised, but not showing any sign of imminent crisis or fear.
Mihael felt suddenly weak at the sight of the place where he had fell after Mail had smothered the flames burning his clothes, the spot just behind the left half of the entrance door where everything had gone blank, and where Mail's nightmare had started.
"Will you ever tell me, Mail?..." he whispered, beginning to walk again in the direction of his boyfriend. He waved a hand in a reassuring sign to the others in the distance, as he saw Taka's worried look, the man standing with Marty, Linden and Vern next to the iron portal.
As he approached Mail, Mihael felt the sudden change in the redhead who was looking at him, still standing beside the doorframe.
He saw the eyes light up to life, the shoulders tense, the stance go from hunched to straight, the fiddling hands fall to his sides.
My angel, he's so beautiful, is that heavenly light? Mail thought as Mihael walked to him, the grey halo from the window backlighting his frame, Is he coming to take me this time?
His eyes traced the contours of the scar on the blond's face, running downward to his neck and chest. Leather. The leather was there. Hips swaying with each step Mihael took forward. All those memories... happy memories, the smell and light creaking of the garment, soft touches and this smile, echoing from his memory to the person approaching him right now... it was all the same person... the one he tried so hard to remember.
But why does he look different? This scar... am I getting confused? He wasn't like this in my mind... what happened? And what are we doing here? It's cold... I'm cold... and it's so horrible here. Is that hell? No... it's too cold to be hell... but it smells like smoke...
A wave of memories rushed back into his mind all of a sudden, creeping from the shadows to flood him, washing the daze he was living in away.
His arms fell to his sides as the images of what happened in that place suddenly reappeared, as Mihael closed the distance between them, sensing that something was wrong.
Mail grabbed Mihael's shoulders, in need of support as his legs almost gave in under the violence of the feelings overwhelming him. Mihael quickly snaked his arms around the redhead's waist to prevent him from falling, and gazed in his eyes, anxious, as Mail secured his feet to the ground, leaning lightly on Mihael to regain his stance.
Mail felt dizzy, his mind trying to sort out the memories, to fix the pieces together in the right order, each one making him want to scream, as he realized again all he had been through during the previous weeks, and what exactly happened: White Hope, the director, the rape, the murder, Light, L...
But his mind switched back to the beginning in a start, and put all this aside in an instant at the souvenir of Mihael in the flames, Mihael on fire, Mihael collapsing here just where they were now standing...
Mail's hands crept from his boyfriend's shoulders to his cheeks, cupping his face, as his eyes widened even more than they already had.
The fire, the scar... this beautiful face, hurt...
Holy fuck, I let him on the floor, I left him alone! Why... How could I have done that?
That scar was all my fault, then?!
He held the face tighter, worryingly looking in those clear eyes that didn't show an ounce of resentment, only worry and questioning, and... as he realised that the love he felt for that blond angel was echoing in the other's eyes, the name escaped his lips as the last piece, the one casting light on the identity of this blond angel, finally completed the puzzle: "Mihael..."
Mihael broke up in tears at the sound of his name. It was like being washed away simultaneously by a wave of relief, and one of tiredness as well, like being high and hitting the bottom all at once.
Unconsciously, the blond's head fell against Mail's chest, gripping his stripped shirt and sobbing as tears flooded out of his eyes. He had taken too much, it had gone too far, it had lasted too long, and he was breaking down out of exhaustion, unable to hold on to himself anymore.
Mihael fell on his knees, pulling Mail with him, both weak with emotion, tears flooding from their eyes.
And Mail encircled the shaking form curling against him, carefully, and stroke the long blond hair softly, as he whispered a melody tenderly: Deta deta tsuki ga, marui marui manmarui, bon no you na tsuki ga, kakureta kumo ni, kuroi kuroi makkuroi, sumi no you na kumo ni, mata deta tsuki ga, marui marui manmarui, bon no you na tsuki ga...
They stayed this way for a while, as Mihael let everything he had kept inside of him pour out completely.
"I'm sorry Mihael, I'm so sorry..." Mail whispered, softly rocking his boyfriend in his arms.
Mihael's head rose, looking at him questioningly. "Sorry? What for?" he sobbed, lovingly stroking the redhead's cheek. He felt so tired that he just wanted to stay there, even with the cold, curled against the one he loved.
"I've abandoned you here, this scar... it's my fault... I'm sorry!" Mail began to cry again, holding Mihael tighter as he buried his face in the crook of the blond's neck.
"Mail, look at me." Mihael said in a firm voice, grabbing Mail's face to force him to look him in the eyes, "I don't give a fuck about this scar, all that matters to me is that you're alive, and that all this is finally over... I was so scared that you would never remember me... Mail, I..." Mihael broke down in tears again, "I... missed you so much! So much..."
"Mihael... Mihael..." was all Mail could reply, repeating his lover's name again and again, like if he wanted to make sure he would never forget it again.
Seeing that the teenagers were on the ground for a long moment now, and crying, Taka decided he would check on them, and walked to the place where they were knelt, followed by the three other men.
As the tears stopped, leaving Mail and Mihael exhausted, finally relieved from sorrow, the redhead wiped his eyes and smiled weakly, looking at his boyfriend. Mihael smiled back, and, standing, he helped Mail do the same.
Suddenly, eager and needy after all this time, he pulled Mail against him, one of his hands sliding in the red locks of the back of Mail's head while his other arm snaked around his neck, and kissed him, his lips pecking at Mail's first, then deepening the exchange as the redhead parted his lips as he tilted his head, wanting more from the contact he had missed so much. He held onto Mihael's waist as the kiss became softer, the chocolate taste of Mihael's mouth mixing with his own smoky breath. This was finally heaven.
Taka froze, speechless, Linden bumping into him because of the sudden stop. Marty gasped, while Vern looked at all three of them worriedly.