WARNINGS: Rated NC-17/R-18 (whatever it is depending on your country of origin), yaoi (boy x boy sex), OC, random OOC-ness, made-up past memoirs, some coarse language, some violence, graphic & explicit under-aged sexual content. References to Catholicism & sacrilege.

ORAL FIXATION.

Winchester, UK, 2005.

MELLO:

One.

In the name of the Father.

"Aahhh...ahhh..."

Two.

In the name of the Son.

"Ahh...Neiar..."

Three.

In the name of the Holy Spirit.

"Mel...! Aahhh..."

Forgive me, God, for I have sinned.

I didn't want to think about that now. Memories of Father Samuel was well buried behind me. All that was left was the random images attached to the rosary dangling around my neck.

Christ, I never thought how committing a sin could feel this good.

There was this small room in Wammy's House that was very rarely used. Most of the kids called it the White Room, because everything was white, from the floors to the curtains to the window sills. Rumours said that it was once used as an isolation room for anyone who was being disobedient. But I guessed in this day and age no one resorted to such old-fashioned measures anymore. It was more like an emergency store room, but even so, there wasn't much stored. All there was was a chair, a small table, some sheets and curtains dangling at random. But one of my personal favourite was the antique white shelf at the corner of the room. It wasn't very tall, but in it were a few books from God-forsaken time periods and a silver-plated candle stand. On top of it was a large crucifix, complete with a crucified Jesus Christ and a ceramic Mother Mary icon right beside it, slightly shorter than the cross. And to top it off, there was a rather large self-portrait painting of L hanging on the wall, framed in fancy golden carvings. He was looking straight at the viewer, in a white shirt, contrasting with his wild jet black hair.

I remembered Neiar once calling it some secret Shrine to L. I wouldn't say he was 100 wrong.

But considering the situation now, we could both call it the Shrine of Sin.

"Oohhh...Mel..."

When did this become a routine?

When did this become almost like...an addiction?

That night at the library, that I thought was a one-time mistake, never left either of us. Apparently.

I remembered feeling very sick the morning after, and so did Neiar. He skipped school and stayed in bed with a high fever being the excuse.

He had it easy.

I locked myself up in the bathroom for what must've felt like hours, bending over the toilet bowl, ready to hack my guts out but nothing came out. Then I remembered feeling light-headed and fainted for about half an hour.

But now...

"Mel!"

He called out my name in between gasping and panting as he came hard and messy against my stomach. I continued thrusting into him a few more times, before finally reached my own climax and sprayed hot juices inside Neiar.

Oh...Gods...

I collapsed on top of him, all sweaty, sticky and feverish hot. His ragged breaths scorched against my hair, before he finally turned around and laid his head sideways.

I looked up, and saw L staring back at me. Every time I saw that painting, I couldn't stop wondering why it was put in this room instead of the study or somewhere else.

"Mel..." Neiar's monotonous voice broke my train of thought.

"What?"

"I think we should stop doing this."

NEIAR:

I felt him tensed for a second, then got up and spat out, "Speak for yourself, hypocrite."

He got up and cleaned his stomach off my cum, before quickly wrapping his naked pale body randomly with the black shirt. The contrast was so...

When did he become so...desirable?

I saw him, and apart from this fascination I got everytime I tweaked with him, he'd send shots of electricity down my spine as soon as he reacted.

Also, he never just reacted. He always reacted dramatically. Making sure that I noticed.

All because of me. And it was all just for me.

My Mel.

Like dark and dirty sin, like the Devil seducing its victims ruthlessly, he always caught me off guard at the most inconvenient times possible.

I couldn't get enough of him. But still, things didn't change one bit. We were still rivals. I was still entertained by the fact that I could always outdo him in everything. That I snatched away all the attention, compliments and praises and didn't leave one bit of a limelight for him. He still annoyed the hell out of me frequently. And he still hated my guts.

Hated me so much that he wanted to fuck me over and over.

I wasn't any different either.

Maybe that was what made the sex so incredible.

Like the other day.

"Howcome you were always the one who got first access to the latest development in the Kira case!" he snapped at me. After making sure that everyone else in the House was well asleep, of course.

And I was somehow horney as hell.

"Well, if you were a bit more observant, you'd notice that it was loaded to the Classified Folder after hours."

"Liar. It didn't load until after you used the computer."

"It's called 'password', Mel."

"So what the fuck is it!"

"Same as always! Like how you opened up any fucking file in that folder!"

He shoved me aside and took over the keyboard.

"Hey, I was using that!"

"Oh, fuck you. Sod off."

So I pushed him over and he fell on the floor.

"No."

I swear my hand had a mind of its own. It dragged Mel up and chucked him against the table.

"Fuck you."

Without further notice, I yanked his pants down and pushed him to the edge of the table, so I was bending over him.

"Neiar, stop!"

I had my hands fumbling with the zipper of my pants, before finally setting my nagging erection free.

"Make me, Mel. Make me."

As he struggled and started yelling out profanities, my other hand reached up and covered his mouth. The next thing he tried was biting my hand, which was quite predictable, so I quickly grabbed a pen and set it across his mouth. After biting on it reflexively, he spewed it out angrily, but as soon as I entered him, he didn't say a word.

"Neiar..."

I'd do just about anything to hear him call out my name like that.

But most of our coupling took place at the White Room. The least likely place for anyone to find out. We'd done it on the floor, covered with a few sheets, on the table, on the chair, against the wall...everywhere. And it would mostly take place after midnight, where everyone was far in their own dreamland. Or in the wee hours of the morning. Just before the sun comes up.

And the man I was supposed to be a successor for stared right back at me in the face.

It was, after all, quite an impressive self-portrait. I've always wondered who painted it.

Sometimes, though, it was an amusing challenge. I'd stare right back at him while fucking Mel, counting the time I could last, every single second.

Look at me, L. Look how much better I am compared to Mel and everyone else.

And shameless to say, I got the most amazing orgasms. But more importantly, the most obscene sounds out of Mel.

Whenever Mel fucked me though, I preferred simply keeping my eyes shut.

MELLO:

I still hated him. Even until now.

I hated the fact that he hardly said anything. I hated how he constantly twirled his fingers around his silver hair. I hated how he was always so arrogant, ignorant, and oblivious to everything around him. And most of all, I hated how I couldn't get enough of fucking him.

Neiar was brilliant with his hands. Sometimes his mouth too. Whenever we did it in the White Room, I couldn't care less about the hard cold surface of the floor against my skin. All that mattered was his arms wrapped around me. And we always came hard and messy, sometimes noisy...never without fail.

We realised we hated each other so much and so used to it that we needed it.

We needed this hate.

This contempt...this sin. The one thing that felt liberating as ever. Probably the only way we needed each other by some twist of fate.

Once I was so angry, so angry I didn't know why. As soon as darkness fell, we were in the dark room. And I had Neiar impaled on me as I sat down on the chair. I bit down on his nipples as I pounded into him again and again. I fucked him so hard he had tears streaming down his face.

But he didn't say a thing.

Muffling his screams by biting on his sleeves, he only turned me on even more. As expected, I came twice within minutes.

Fuck, Neiar...

He was always the reason why I felt anything worth feeling. The fact that he wanted me as much as I wanted him probably didn't help much.

Sometimes he even let me tie him up. With a piece of rope, ribbon, the sheet, his shirt, whatever I could find. And the view couldn't get any better than that. When he was lying there, naked and perfect, panting and wanting, his pale face tainted by hot pink flushes, the view sent jolts straight down between my legs.

"Mel...stop..."

So he had breathed the words. And it only made me hot even more, particularly down between my legs.

I want you, Neiar...

His empty uncaring eyes hid a thousand carnal desire. It was sinful. It was taboo. It was degrading. It was discreet. Only I cracked the codes.

"No..."

But I knew he was dying for me to touch him.

When did this become my need? When did this become our needs?

I'd have sex with Neiar just as much as he'd have sex with me.

It was almost like back then.

Only better.

Partly because of one thing...probably.

He was loving it. On the outside he may be this perfect genius with praises and compliments up his arse but I was the only one who knew he liked taking other things up his arse. I was the only one who could see him beyond that.

What I felt with Father Samuel back then felt nothing compared to now. Although this was nowhere near as affectionate.

"Aawhh!"

Neiar's helpless moans zoned me back in.

He just exploded in my hands again.

NEIAR:

I knew he hated me so much he couldn't get enough of me. Or couldn't get enough of fucking me.

And I couldn't get enough of making him tick.

Once Roger had asked me, "Neiar, I couldn't help but wonder what is it that you either did or say that always seem to set Mello off?"

It's been a while now since the answer to that question mattered at all to me.

"I don't know, Roger." And I wasn't lying.

"He seems to be always angry with you. Always."

Not always. Oh, if Roger only knew.

We hated each other so much that we loved each other to the point of destruction.

Could I have reminded him of something the way he reminded me of Mellina from time to time? Sometimes I couldn't help but wonder. But I do remember though, that ever since that incident at the football field he seemed to hate me more. And that was when we haven't even begun doing those things that are forbidden...

He was pissed off at me because I didn't speak up for him. He thought I saw everything, and I swear I didn't. But he wouldn't mention it to me because if there was one thing called an ego bigger than anything, then that would be Mel. Maybe I was wrong. But I really was so caught up in what I was doing at the time that I didn't see the whole thing. The next thing I saw was chaos as one of the kids was holding his bleeding hand. And Mel took all the blame.

I never said anything.

Neither did he.

I'd be lying if I said it was completely unintentional.

Or to find out how he would react.

And that question continued to linger on in my mind. Had I seen the whole thing, would I have spoken up for him?

Or would I have been way too fascinated with the fact that I could tick him off once again? Big time?

Either way, Mel never did mention it. He probably did in other ways, though...

"You like that, you little slag!" he whispered sharply as he slapped my cheek promptly. I could only wince and waited for the burning sensation on my face to subside.

The White Room was quiet, as always. And L's eyes were still looking at me from the top. Mel had my wrists tied up around the leg of the bookshelf with a leather belt. It wasn't long after the incident at the library. And as usual, his murderous eyes were glaring daggers at me, but aside from that, was burning with hunger for something else.

Since when did I start to enjoy having him looking at me like that?

It must've been one of those sick masochistic outbursts. But right now I couldn't care less, because Mel was ripping my clothes open and bit on my neck with his lips. I was already hard for quite a while. Then he went lower...

I've always noticed Mel's oral fixation with chocolates. How he always seemed to devour it with such lustful appetite. How he always seem to have such a blissful expression on his face when he's licking, biting and munching on the sweet treat. And let's just say that his mouth wasn't just good with chocolates.

But to me, it felt like I was more than chocolate to him.

When he touched me, when he devoured me, he savoured every moment, tasted every flavour and drained me to the very core. Needles to say he was really good at it.

"Uuhhh...Mel..."

I wanted to...fuck, wrapped my legs around his neck and shoved myself deeper into his mouth, forcing him to take more of me. But he wasn't planning on losing control. No matter how many times he'd done this to me, it always felt like the first time. Every orgasm I had was always mind-blowing, and sometimes I'd come more than once. Maybe it was simply the teenage hormones talking.

But hormones or not, Mel was there, always there...watching me, enjoying me, finishing me off, pouring all his emotions to me like boiling blood.

And I kept wondering how much more I could push him. Although I often wondered how much longer I could play this game. But it was so much fun...and addictive, I couldn't stop.

How far would he go to deny how much I was affecting him? How much have I gotten into him anyway?

The curiosity was always there. Just like the desire I had for him alone.

"Aa...ahh!"

The familiar smell of raw protein filled up the White Room once again.

Tugging on the belt tying up my wrists, he climbed up and looked down on me...his rosary dangling around his neck...it's hard and cold crucifix pendant brushing against my chest and a bit of my nipple...

I'll make you remember me for the rest of your life...

God, if you really exist then say something. I wonder if it really was a sin...

Because nothing dramatic has happened ever since that night. I wasn't thrown to the burning flames of hell or struck by lightning or anything.

And it was becoming a routine. An undying need...

MELLO:

Maybe it was true what they said. That there was a really thin line between love and hate.

I think I've hated Neiar to the point where I couldn't hate him anymore. To the point where there was nothing left to do or say except this. And this thing between us was more than anything that could be explained with mere words.

He had me, alright. My mind, my soul, my heart, and now even my body. I couldn't get enough of him. Breaking him over and over never seemed to be enough.

Neiar was always there. Either sitting down on the floor playing with his jigsaw puzzles, squatting on the chair fiddling with the computer, leaning on a bookshelf flicking through thick textbooks, or simply twirling his finger around his hair...wherever he was. Just watching him like that got me hot.

I remembered one afternoon. The whole day beforehand I was so irritated by yet another one of Ms.Cassera's comments about me not focusing enough like Neiar did.

And what I overheard later made it worse.

But for once, that wasn't the only cause. I was just walking down the hallway, when I heard some girls gossiping near the leisure room.

"Oh my God, is that true?"

"Yes, Neiar, of all people!"

"That weirdo?"

"Can't help it, the boy's a genius though."

"I mean, isn't it kind of obvious though? Linda was always the first one to urge him to go play outside, you know."

"...Or sometimes, try to chat him up."

"But anyways, what did you see, anyway?"

"Well, I was just walking past the leisure room, and I saw Neiar doing this paper-folding stuff..."

"You mean origami, like the Japanese art?"

"Yeah, sumthin' like that. So anyway, Linda tried to get him outside again, and they were talking for a while..."

"Let me guess, he gave her a paper crane."

"Something like that, yeah."

"Oh, so what? You expect us all to go, 'awww, what a darling'?"

"Yeah, but this is Neiar we're talking about. He doesn't do nice things to girls."

"Either way, Linda's after him."

Then it all dissolved into giggles.

Girls!

Pathetic. They're nothing but trouble. Only to grow up to become another Ms.Cassera. But it wasn't just them that kind of bothered me. I have noticed how Linda's always been the one most friendly to Neiar. You know, inviting him to go play outside and all.

Feh.

Neiar this, Neiar that.

It was always about him.

Like a robot automatically programmed to do things, I rushed into the White Room, undeniably expecting him to be there.

Why was I feeling like shit?

I opened the door in a hurry. And the view I got straight away was pretty much how I wanted it to be.

Jealous? Please!

It was the period of transition between day to night. The whole room was as white as usual. The dim glow of the last sunrays of the day added a dramatic touch to the room. There was something unreal about the whole presence.

Why was it always about him?

Neiar was just sitting there, his legs folded beneath him, his right hand playing with his hair. His eyes empty as ever.

Why can't he stop getting into me?

L's portrait was hanging straight above him, as if creating a guarding presence behind him, protecting his frail and pale figure. His skin was as pale as his white outfit, and it was like he was part of the White Room itself, his white appearance camouflaged by the walls around him.

I couldn't quite explain what it was that drew me to him so badly...

NEIAR:

There was a period where I didn't notice anyone other than Mello.

I could even hardly remember any of the other kids at the House.

I did remember Linda, though. But I guess she only stood out because of her superior artistic talents. She's probably drawn sketches of every single person at the House, including me and Mel. And probably because she was the one who urged me to play outside the most, which I normally replied with "I'm fine, Linda."

So when I sometimes talked to her briefly and didn't see images of Mellina haunting me, I thought it was just alright.

While the truth was all I had in my head was Mello.

I had planned to wait for him again in the White Room as usual, later today. The anticipation was killing me, I couldn't wait until dark.

"Neiar..."

I turned around and there she was, holding her A3-sized sketchbook.

"Don't you want to play outside? The weather is nice, you know."

"I'm fine, Linda," I said as I went back to my 16th paper crane.

"What's all this?" She moved closer and squatted beside me.

"This is called 'origami'. Japanese traditional art of paper-folding."

She looked impressed. "Trying something new, are you?"

"Uh-huh."

When I started stacking them up into pyramids, she was beside me, watching intently.

I didn't expect to go far with arranging these paper cranes into pyramids, as they were in the brink of collapsing just as I reached halfway of the third line. But I wasn't planning on stopping, at least not with a simple 5x4x3x2x1 pyramid. I was one paper crane over, though.

So without thinking twice, I gave it to Linda.

And she accepted it without thinking twice either.

So that was it. I didn't realise that the whole thing had become news of the week among the girls until a few hours later.

That kind of annoyed me. Not to mention that I've had an unexplained headache that's been bugging me since earlier in the morning. Or maybe because I haven't seen Mel for quite a big chunk of the day. Either way, I was kind of more irritable than usual.

Suddenly the day became so long and it seemed like the sun was never going to set.

When it finally did, I walked over to the White Room, undeniably expecting him to be there. But when he wasn't I just sat there, leaning against the wall.

I glanced around the room, thinking about the things I'd done right here, in this very room...with my ultimate sin that was Mello.

If these walls could talk...

The door opened with a bang, and there stood a very irritated-looking Mel.

The look of someone who hasn't got some for quite a while...

Come over here...

Without saying anything, he walked over and sat right in front of me, as if anticipating some kind of reaction.

Reminds me of that night...

SLAP!

I didn't flinch, even after the burning pain subsided.

Doing something just because he felt like it was so like Mel.

"You just had to show off and get all the girls, don't you?" This time he grabbed me by the collar and for the millionth time I let him.

Bring it on, Mel.

"Attention whore."

How far would you go?

"Say something you fucking slag!"

What would I say? That you're jealous?

All I did after that was pushed him over until he was lying under me, and I looked into his wild predatory eyes, looking back at me as if wanting to burn me over.

"Do you want me that much?"

He spat at me. No surprises there either.

"Fuck you."

I held him down with all my strength although his overwhelming force was threatening to overtake me.

Maybe he really was jealous.

How interesting.

I silenced him with a deep, hungry kiss. Damn, he was like a drug. And he wouldn't back off either. Every time he kissed me back it was like some sort of aspirin easing my blood flow in every single vessel. I felt hot and feverish all over, my headache long forgotten, all I had in my head was him. I only stopped briefly to get some air, and then noticed something. There was music playing in the background...very softly, and I could make out it was in some language other than English. Maybe Roger was playing his old LP in the office like he sometimes did.

And it only reminded me of one thing.

Original sin.

MELLO:

Why I was so annoyed at him back then, I couldn't quite remember. All I could think of was how I wanted to have my way with him over and over.

There was music playing from Roger's office.

Like the devil, he was alluring, tempting...insatiable. And was lusting after me, the same way I was over him. Like sin, he was wrong and taboo, but isn't the greatest atrocity also the greatest pleasure ever? To hell with them.

Neiar was kissing me like never before, holding on to me beneath him like he'd never let me go, breathing hard in my mouth.

Then I realised it was the same piece of music that Father Samuel had played many years ago during our little tryst.

/Amplius lava me ab iniquitate mea.../

This sinful treat was like no other. As I tried to shake off images of Father Samuel, I grabbed on to Neiar's head, trying to hold on to something real...

/Et a peccato meo munda me.../

Neiar, I...

He continued kissing me, down lower to my neck, my collarbone, pulling my shirt down...

I hate you...

I let him pull my shirt off, as he kept leaving trails of his warm saliva down parallel to my sternum, then my stomach...

...for making me feel this way.

Neiar stopped for a second to catch his breath, then found my rosary necklace. To my surprise, he then took it into his mouth and let the crucifix pendant sat between his teeth. Then he looked down on me, with that usual pink flush staining his cheeks.

I've never seen a sight quite so sinful and...fascinating.

And fuck, that look on his face...

He let go of his bite and let the pendant fall back on my chest, making a faint 'clunk' sound. The once cold pendant was now warm from his mouth. Neiar was aroused beyond words, as I felt his hardness brushing against my leg. And I wasn't any better myself.

"Aa...ah..."

Before I knew it, his tongue was on my bellybutton, and his hands were fiddling with the zipper of my pants.

Don't stop.

/Do you know...you're beautiful.../

Just don't.

It was like he knew exactly what I was thinking and what I wanted him to do.

If Neiar didn't have any sort of oral fixation with anything, then I had no idea how the hell he learnt to do fellatio so well. He didn't just suckle and lick, he savoured every inch, every texture and every taste. I was just lying there beneath him, writhing and moaning helplessly as he pleased me like no other. It was so deliciously degrading for him, and that made me enjoy it even more.

That's it, suck me, you little slag.

When he grabbed on to the sacs beneath as he gave me one last pump deep to the base, I lost it completely.

Suddenly everything else was forgotten, and like a drug addict just completing his fix, I laid there panting in the afterglow with Neiar still between my legs. He looked up at me with his usual expressionless face, wiping down drops of my protein from the corner of his mouth.

Alright, I admit it. Maybe I needed him more than just anything.

The next day, I woke up with the usual satisfaction. But then I didn't see Neiar the whole day. The usual figure I would usually find heaped on the carpet playing with his jigsaw puzzles was nowhere to be seen. When darkness fell and he wasn't in the White Room I couldn't help asking Roger about it.

All I got was two short sentences.

"Neiar's sick. He's been in bed all day."

NEIAR:

The headache that was bugging me the other day turned out to be a prelude to something else. That particular morning I woke up feeling like the weight of a planet had been set on me. Every single joint I had in my body hurt whenever I moved. It was so uncomfortable.

Moving off the bed was a struggle, let alone leaving the room. Roger had suggested that I took a rest and gave me some paracetamol. I felt slightly better for a while, but as darkness fell the fever and sores went back again, maybe even worse. In the end, he sent someone from the House to call a doctor and when he got here, my body temperature must've reached at least 39 degrees. I kind of predicted his verdict as well. Acute bacterial infection. Must've wounded myself somewhere without realising it, and got infected just when the immune system was down...

Or maybe it was that time when Mel and I...

The doctor gave me prescription for some antibiotics and more paracetamol.

"...and give him plenty of fluids as well." Was the last thing I remembered the doctor saying to Roger.

"I'll check back on you from time to time. So you just rest there, Neiar."

Well, what else was there left for me to do?

Tonight was going to be hell. I just wanted to collapse until at least the next morning, but even falling asleep was difficult. I was sore all over.

Not to mention down there...maybe it was where the infection originated...

That night was colder than usual too, and it didn't make the situation any better. There was a huge bottle of water on the bedside table and a packet of medicine sitting beside a small plastic container of ice. And I had an ice cold cloth over my forehead. But I just felt so...uncomfortable. I couldn't even tell whether I was feeling cold or hot, and all my joints were sore. Not to mention there was a hint of nausea sitting at the pit of my stomach.

Maybe it was the fever talking, but suddenly I felt helpless and fragile. Even Roger wasn't looking after me constantly, he just said he'd check back on me once in a while. There was a certain fear forming in my head, what if things got worse? What if I needed to vomit or had spasms or something? I was alone in my dark room, and no one was within an arm's reach.

I hated being sick.

I remembered thinking that when I finally managed to fall asleep briefly, but it wasn't such a pleasant experience after all because I had dreams about Mellina. That girl hasn't crossed my mind for ages now, and now suddenly she was haunting me in my dreams. I jerked awake and found myself drenched in sweat, then the sore joints hit me again.

That little slag...

My head was killing me.

And it was suddenly so cold.

I couldn't escape. All I wanted to do was sleep and hoped the headache would disappear eventually, but as soon as I closed my eyes I was terrorised by images of Mellina again.

Go away...

I felt sick. But nothing would come out. I know I hadn't eaten anything the whole day, which was not a good idea, but it wasn't like I had any appetite anyway.

Someone...would someone...?

Roger didn't check on me. Maybe he did when I was asleep and assumed everything was alright.

My head hurt so much...

Then I felt a sudden violent jerk all over...it felt so cold and hot at the same time...

The inflammation was getting worse...and this was probably the last intervention my immune system had to resort to...

I was about to have minor spasms...

That was when I sensed a sudden warmth gripping my wrist tight.

Was that who I thought it was?

"Neiar!" the familiar raspy voice confirmed it all.

Mel held down the newly-dipped cloth over my forehead firmly, letting the ice-cold dampness seeped through my skin...and then...

"Wait...!" I felt something shoved into my mouth, and then reflexively bit on it.

It was Mel's fingers. He let me bit on them so I didn't have to bite my own tongue.

"Wait...here, bite this..." he pulled his fingers out and replaced them with another piece of fabric.

I thought he hated me.

"Mel...you..."

"Just shut up, you moron." he snapped at me.

His other hand was still holding on to my wrist.

"Only stupid sods like you come down with an infection this bad." he whispered again.

Great. So he believed I fell sick because I wasn't smart enough not to.

So yeah, maybe I didn't feed myself right, maybe I never exercised enough, and none of them did my immune system any favour, but all I knew now was that I was very sick and Mel was taking care of me. Of all people.

MELLO:

Stupid sod was literally dying from a mere bacterial infection.

Neiar was weak as hell and it would've been so easy to kill the bastard.

Why was I helping him anyway?

Because he didn't know how to take care of himself? Or because I enjoyed watching him in pain?

Neiar, you idiot.

His white shirt was drenched in sweat, yet he was shivering. Great. Well on your way to potential pneumonia. So I ran to the nearest bathroom and nicked a towel, before rushing back to his room. Without any warning, I hauled him up and pulled his soaked shirt off. He was looking at me strangely through heavy-lidded eyes, but I ignored them.

"Don't even say anything, Neiar."

The sheets he was sleeping on were damp too, so I set the towel there and laid him back down on the dry layer.

He was thin as a rake, and paler than anything I've ever seen. I could even see his ribs protruding out in the limited light.

The spasms didn't end up attacking him fully. He was just trembling fervently, his body struggling to fight off the pathogens. So I carefully slid the piece of cloth out of his mouth, and used it to wipe sweat off his body.

"Mel..."

"Oh, please. It's not like I haven't seen anything, Neiar."

If he could just stop being stupid for one second, I probably wouldn't have been half as annoyed.

Did Father Samuel felt like this too when he was washing me?

I shook the memoirs off and concentrated back on drying him up. Images of Neiar and me filled my mind instead. I've seen this body so many times. I've felt it inside me. This skin, this smell, so familiar...so intimate...

Mel...stop...

Did you like me touching you like that?

I think we should stop doing this.

Did you like me kissing you like that?

Do you want me that much?

Did you like having me inside you?

Neiar was always such a paradox...cold on the outside, but boiling hot on the inside. I've felt him like that in more ways than one.

And now he was lying there, weak and helpless, all dependent on me.

When I was done cleaning him up, I pulled the blanket back up and covered him again. The images stopped immediately.

Why did I care about him so much anyway?

So I sat down and leaned against the side of his bed as I watched him slowly drifting off to sleep.

This was going to be one hell of a long night.

And I was right. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep myself, Neiar got delirious. Although it wasn't until I heard his head thrashing from side to side.

I lifted my head heavily and reached up...

Did he just grabbed my hand?

"Uhh...Mel..."

Rubbing my eyes, I tried to think of the best way to wake him up.

He was still pale as ever, this time even his lips hardly had any colour in them.

His blood pressure must've hit rock bottom.

"Sssshhh...Neiar...hey..." Changing the ice cloth on his forehead was the best I could do.

"Mel...lina..."

What?

I've missed that...since it clashed with my own shushing.

Although I knew better than to try and make out something intangible like that. It sounded like he was saying 'Mel' then 'Linda' or something...

Like I cared.

Neiar's grip on my hand tightened briefly. And I let it.

What time is it anyway? I glanced at the near-by clock.

02:36AM.

Ah, shit. How much longer of this will he have?

Then everything went quiet. He was lying there limp again, breathing quietly. His grip on my hand weakened and dropped.

Neiar, you...

"Idiot."

NEIAR:

When I woke up the next morning, I felt much better.

The room was empty as expected.

I looked up at the clock, it said 10:15AM.

Last night...

What happened last night anyway?

I thought I was imagining Mel coming over and looking after me.

But when I saw the tell-tale dent on the side of the bed, I knew that night wasn't a dream.

So, feeling healthier than ever, I leaned back and let out a contented sigh.

Overloading on nutrients and vitamins and getting maximum rest was definitely on the agenda for today. I'd need the extra energy.

That is, if I wanted to be good as new tonight.

And my calculations worked out perfectly. So before I knew it, I was heading down the White Room again.

He was already there, standing right in front of L's portrait.

The familiar platinum blond hair and wild eyes was staring back at me.

"Mel..."

"Neiar..."

For once, the violence subsided. Then he opened his mouth.

"I think we should stop doing this."

That was unexpected, but it didn't stop me from backing him against the wall and pinned his wrists over his head, whispering softly in his ear,

"Speak for yourself...hypocrite."

END OF INTERLUDE