Thanks for all the lovely reviews! Also, another large thanks to those who viewed/favorited/alerted this story. I know this is coming out a little late, but at I made this long to apologize for that. Please enjoy the insanity, and as always, let me know what you guys think.
Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note, Mustangs, or the Catholic Church
What was wrong with me?
Staring at the bruised backside of my lover as he limped out of bed and into the bathroom, I could feel an unfamiliar feeling bubble up within me. Contempt. Leaning up on my elbow, I glanced at the calendar nailed into the naked wall. Damn, it was fucking Sunday again.
I had promised that Mello could go to mass today, but the thought of him going there alone made me uneasy. He could try to run away again, one of those perverted priests might bribe him into a blow job with a stupid promise of letting him into heaven, or any number of other bad scenarios could happen. Still, if I told him that he couldn't go, we'd probably get into another damn fight.
"Fuck," I muttered as I rolled out of my warm bed.
The cold air stung at my naked body, but the warm moist air from the bathroom took care of that. With a pained grunt, I peeled the bandage and gauze off my fresh wounds. Shooting Mello's rosary a nasty glare, I stepped into the steaming tub. Those turquoise eyes only spared me a brief glance before focusing on the tiles near the faucet. Snorting, I couldn't help but think that even with all those negative feelings brewing inside of me, I couldn't help but stare in appreciation at the body in front of me. Even the scars and other injuries couldn't diminish his beauty.
Rubbing his shoulders, I leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Let's have a quickie, Mels."
Tensing, he looked over his should at me with a scandalous expression. "Matt, I'm about to go to church."
"So? What, are you saving yourself for one of those horny priests?"
"Damn in Matt, I'm not going to sleep with a fucking priest! I never have and I never will!"
"Whatever," I grumbled as I pressed him against the tile. "Spread your legs."
After a moment of hesitation, he sighed and parted his creamy legs. My slick fingers teased the entrance for a moment before dipping into the warmth. I saw his fingers clench at the smooth tile and he let out a faint whimper. He still hadn't recovered from our most recent romp. With a frown, I pressed my hard member into the swollen flesh. It hadn't been hard to get turned on with his smooth body pressed against mine, but the bliss that had washed over me so often during sex didn't flood my veins this time.
The foreign burn of contempt continued to push forward in my mind, searing my insides even as I neared the oblivion that I desperately wanted. That white light had become something of an addiction for me in a time where nothing else was doing it for me. Drugs were worthless, mind-numbing work couldn't stop the night terrors, and talking to Mello or to myself was in vain. Only his body had given me the comfort I needed, that climax that eased my fevered mind if for only a moment. Even with all my selfishness, I didn't forget Mello's needs and my left hand slid forward to stroke on his warm cock. I pressed my forehead against the back of his neck and let the orgasm come quickly.
For a moment I was left disconcerted. There had been no mind-blowing nothingness, no moment of peace. There had been nothing but a tingling feeling run through my body and a few seconds of breathlessness.
"Matt," Mello gasped, "let go!" Still shocked, I released his member which had been clenched painfully by my bony hand. Turning around, Mello gave me a confused glance before hurriedly finishing his bath. Still confused and a bit pissed, I took a little longer to finish, but the fear of him leaving without me made me get my ass in gear.
By the time I finished drying and got dressed, I could see Mello making the last adjustments to his hair and clothes. Black pinstriped dress pants hung low on his hips and a shirt I bought him yesterday covered the bruises and stitches. Not sparing a glance at me, that ungrateful git shoved his gun in the front of his waistband and perched his fashionably oversized sunglasses on his straight nose, effectively covering his blackened eye. I rolled my eyes as he sauntered to the front door with all the swagger of the badass he used to be. Trailing behind him, I pulled on a black hoodie and stuffed my own gun in its pocket. New combat boots were pulled over my skinny jeans and aviator sunglasses that I hated so much shielded my own eyes.
Pausing behind Mello, I saw his trembling hand reaching out for his only jacket. Silver zippers decorated the shiny black leather as it rested on the coat stand, just waiting to be worn once again. My confusion turned to frustration as Mello seemed frozen on the spot. Why didn't he just grab the damn thing? Leaning against the wall in agitation, I tapped my foot against the hardwood floor and waited for him to grab it. Clenching his eyes shut, he jerked it off the hook and slipped the worn leather over his thin shoulders.
Once that was accomplished, we both headed out in my black and gold Mustang. Thankfully, we were back in the states where crazy-ass people weren't driving on the wrong side of the road. The drive to church was silent, with only the purr of my engine keeping my thoughts company. Mello fidgeted in the seat next to mine as he watched the peaceful suburbs shift to shadier neighborhoods. Graffiti painted the walls on every corner and drug dealers were a dime a dozen. Prostitutes waved down cars left and right, hobos pushed their stolen carts, and gangbangers strutted their stuff in the frigid cold.
"Are you really going to park this car here?" Mello asked as he took in the glorious surroundings.
"I've got to friends who'll keep it safe," I replied as I stuck a cigarette in my mouth.
"Hn." After a few seconds he spoke again. "You haven't been wearing stripes lately."
"And you practically cry if you see your damn leathers."
Cracking his knuckles, he kept his eyes on the scenery flying by. My hands clenched around the wheel, pissed that he would even bring that up. I never bothered him about the weird things he did after that day, and he should have just minded his own business. The truth was that I hadn't been able to wear anything similar to the clothes I was wearing the day I should have died. Anytime I try it's like I can see that guy getting all shot up. That was me, it should have been me, but here I was trying to forget all about it. Bastard.
Still, these familiar grey walls, they pushed out the worst in me. Home sweet fucking home. I had to be a glutton for pain coming back here. This was my life before Wammy's, but no one knew that except for me and a select few. Most of those few were dead now, only Roger lived. Still, I couldn't help but wonder…
Parking my car on the near empty curb, I motioned for Mello to stay put. Stepping out of the car, I glanced around and made my way to the apartment I was parked in front of. Before I reached the door, a man came out with a pistol in his hand. His dark skin was peppered with tattoos of all kinds and what hair he had was hidden beneath his du-rag. Outstretching my hand, he took it and proceeded to give me a black man's handshake complete with chest bumping.
"What you doing here, man?" he asked as he slapped my back.
"Since when did I need a fucking invitation to show up here, dog," I shot back, my native accent tearing through. "Damn, 'just need you to watch my fucking car for an hour' so."
Peeking around my shoulder at the car he let out a low whistle. "Shit man, you got a bitch?"
"What the hell? You think I don't need one? I'm a man, ass, and I got me plenty of bitches."
"That'd be a pretty flat-chested one, don't ya think?" he chuckled. "I like big tits on my hoes. But then, maybe you ain't got the skills to get one a them."
I shoved at him lightly and shook my head. "Hell, she don't need no big tits. Spreads her legs just fine and screams like the whore she is. I pick pussy over tits any day, you know what I mean? Fuck, dudes'll be having tits soon."
"Aw man, that's sick," he jested shoving me back. "Can't stand none of that. Fucking homos'll get a nice gift from me if they pass by," he said gesturing to his gun. "You know what I'm sayin', man?"
"Call me up and we'll both do 'em in good."
After a few more minutes of friendly bantering, I went back and pulled Mello out of the car. "Just go with it," I whispered in his ear. "Call me Mac if you have to say something." Even through the sunglasses I could tell that he was glaring at me, but as soon as my extremely tall and well-built friend showed up, Mello settled easily into his role. "This here's Mina from Germany. Mina, say hi to my man Jungle Robba."
Tossing back his golden hair, Mello checked him out and added a little extra by running his tongue over his lower lip. "Hello, Robba," he greeted with a thick German accent and a slightly higher pitch. "This country is good, no?"
"Hell yeah, it is," he replied as he let his own eyes wander. The familiar feeling of wanting to shove pencils into the person's eyes for mentally undressing my lover bubbled up in my chest but I shoved it down.
"Come on, quit checkin' her out, fucker!" I complained with a playful shove. "You got yo own hoes to take care of. Just take care of the car, 'kay?"
"Sure thing, Mac," he said with a wink to Mello. I grabbed his recuperating arm and dragged him away from my acquaintance before Robba got a chance to see that Mello was anything but a stupid European chick. As a matter of fact, he was an I'll-kick-your-ass European dude.
We walked together in silence for another ten minutes until the familiar dark stone face of an old Catholic church made itself known. People were filing in quietly, respectfully, through the thick oak doors while the father shook hands and spoke kind words to his idiotic flock of believers. Mello pulled his arm away from mine and shook hands with the old fart.
"Hi, mate," he said quietly with an Australian accent. "Been visitin' around here parts, an' wanted to make right with God."
"Welcome to this flock," the old man said with a well-practiced smile. "I hope you will stay for a while."
"Sure thing," Mello replied with a smile. I merely rolled my eyes and shook the guy's hand.
"Welcome, sir," he greeted, those grey eyes flickering up to my green tinted hair.
"G'day, mate," I replied in a sad attempt at following along with Mello's Australian cover. I really hated how he was so good at faking accents.
Not wanting to lose Mello in the small crowd, I brushed off anything else the geezer was going to say and found my place beside my blond. He found us some seats in the middle of the room and we sat there for a while. Looking around the interior of the musty old chapel, I couldn't help but frown at how familiar it looked. I could have sworn that I had been here before but that idea was ridiculous. I hated churches; they were all a waste of time and money. Perverted old men made use of young bodies to sate their wicked desires, and the children were left to pray and tend to their broken bodies.
"I didn't know you knew where a church was around here," Mello whispered in my ear. "Thanks."
"Wait, didn't you tell me where this place was?" I asked in confusion. Surely I didn't know where the heck a fucking Catholic church was. I mean, it was my home town and stuff, but…
"No, I didn't know where one was," he replied as he adjusted his sunglasses. "Hey, I'll be back. I need to make my confessions before the mass starts."
I didn't want to let him go by himself into that wicked box, but there was nothing I could do. No one was allowed but the priest and the confessor in that booth and even if I wanted to sit by the door and wait, it would make too much of a scene in front of all these people. A scene was something that me and Mello couldn't afford. We needed to fade into the background and remain unidentifiable. Still, that didn't make me feel any better about it.
Seriously though, what did he need to confess about? He hadn't murdered anyone or committed any kind of sin lately. Well, if you take out the cursing, the fucking, and the attempted murder of me several times. Still, his god would surely overlook all that, right? He did all his little prayers, and he clung to that stupid rosary all the time. What really pisses me off is when he does his prayers during sex, like he needs the strength to deal with me, a demon. Yeah, he really does piss me off a lot.
An old lady took her seat next to me as I waited anxiously for Mello to get out of confession. She also glanced at my hair which made me consider dying it another color. I liked being a little original but at the cost of our obscurity, it wasn't worth that much. I didn't want to dye my hair black or anything emo like that, but definitely something that didn't stick out so much at my green tint.
"Hello young man," she greeted with a thin wrinkled outstretched hand. Deciding that I couldn't ignore a nosy old hag, I just shook her hand and turned my attention back to the booth. She seemed to have other ideas. "Are you new here?"
Yeah, punching her would give me some unwanted attention. "Yeah, jus' got in lately, miss," I replied, doing my darnest to imitate that crocodile hunter guy.
"Oh, that's nice. Where'd you come from?"
Like my accent didn't tell her that much. "Sydney in Australia."
"Are you with anyone?"
Sigh of eternal patience. "Yeah, my mate is in the little booth for confession."
"Oh how nice. Is she pretty?"
"My mate, miss, is a guy. Been buds for the past fifteen years."
"Oh, a friend."
"Yeah."
"Don't you need to go to confession too?" she asked with another glance at my hair. Fucking shit, did I have a sign painted to my chest saying that I was a non-believing sinner?
"Nope, been a good lad this week."
"When you get to be my age," she started with a large toothless smile, "there's not much temptation left. Just got to watch for that gossipin'."
I gave her a pleasantly fake laugh as I looked back to the booth. Why wasn't he done yet? He really didn't have that long of a list to pray for! What, did he give the fucking priest his whole life story? Why wasn't he out yet?! The idea of him sucking off that priest floated around in my head again making me grit my teeth in anger. Just because I had issues with blowing priests didn't mean he did. He promised that he wouldn't do something like that and he always kept his promises.
"I'll never leave you, Matt. Never ever."
So he kept most of his promises. What if this was one of them that he wasn't keeping? What if he was pleasuring that bastard instead of me?! The pressure was building to near unbearable levels. A headache pulsed behind my eyes making this painful experience almost too much to handle anymore. I wanted to be back home, under the covers asleep and at peace. Why did I have to submit and let him come here?
"Scoot over, Matt," a soft voice grumbled as a familiar body tried to squeeze between me and the armrest. Looking up in surprise, I saw Mello trying to wedge between my body and the wood. I scooted over and gave him a scrutinizing glare. There were no strange fluids on his clothing, no signs of wiping off semen, and his hair was impeccable. The only thing unusual was the slightly red streaks on his face.
"Were you crying?" I asked in confusion as he tried to adjust his glasses.
"No," he snapped back defensively. "Drop it."
Just as I was about to snap back at him, everyone stood up and began singing some song. Mello grabbed my arm and forced me to stand up along with him and he sang along without having to use the song books. I just stood there in silence and watched as the priest walked in with the alter boys carrying a cross, the mass book, and candles. I clenched my hands into fists as I glared at that solemn face of the "father".
After a prayer, everyone sat down and listened as the priest read some damn scriptures. Looking to the side, I saw that Mello was totally enraptured and it just made me even more pissed off. What was he hearing that I wasn't? It was just some boring shit that some dead people wrote. On top of that, those dead people took the liberty of telling everyone else on the planet how they ought to live! I'd be damned before letting some person I don't even know tell me what to do. For that matter, I don't even let people I do know tell me what to do. So there.
Still, Mello's obvious dedication was making me sick. Maybe this'll be the last time we come to church. He can do all his fucking praying at home while I screw his ass. Nodding to myself in agreement, I stared forward at the "father" reading with such emotion. Suddenly, everyone was standing up again and singing another song. Mello had to haul my ass up again and he shot me an annoyed look. I'm not going to make this easy for him.
My eyes wandered as usual, and then something unusual caught my glance. Those eyes, those filthy perverted eyes of the priest glanced over the backside of the shorter of the alter boys. Anger and disgust shot through my veins with such intensity that I was left dizzy. Suddenly, I was sitting down again and Mello was hissing in my ear. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"
"Piss off," I replied a little louder than necessary, earning a few glances and making my dearest lover turn two shades of red.
Turning my flaming eyes at that priest, I began studying his sagely visage. There was a monster in there and I just knew it. Watching his wrinkled mouth forming words to his flock, realization began to dawn on me. I knew who that fucker was.
"You need God's mercy far more than any normal person does."
"But why, Father?"
"You father's an evil man and your mother is a wretched soul. You were born of two evils, Mail, and if you don't work extra hard, you can't make it to heaven.
"B-but (sniff) I don't w-wanna go to Hell…"
"I don't want you to go to Hell either, my child. Here, because I care so much for you, I'll give you some extra help. If you perform certain duties for the priests on earth, you will be awarded in heaven."
"R-really?"
"Son, I never lie."
"I-I'll help any way I can, Father…"
I felt sick. As a matter of fact, I felt like I was about to spew all over the old guy in front of me. Pinching my nose, I leaned forward and took deep controlled breath. I could feel Mello fidgeting at my side, debating whether he should see if I was ok or pay attention to the sermon. The little old lady at my side didn't seem to have that much of a problem deciding.
"Are you ok?" she whispered loudly, patting my back in a grandmotherly way.
My eyes were watered up and I didn't trust my voice to be steady, so I just settled for nodding. She continued to pat my back and offered me an old dirty mint from her purse. Mello grabbed it for me and finally graced me with his concern.
"Mattie, do you need to get out of here?" he whispered in my ear.
I thought about nodding and getting the fuck away from this hell-hole, but an idea struck me. "N-no, I'm fine. Let's just finish this, 'kay?"
Brushing my hair back a little he nodded and patted my elbow before turning his attention to that child-raping faggot. The little sermon went by quickly and soon we were all reciting the Profession of Faith.
"We believe in God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and all that is seen and unseen."
My mouth was dry.
"We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, one Being with the Father…"
Rational thought was the last thing on my mind as empty words of faith spilled from my chapped lips.
"We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen."
~_~_~_~_~_
As soon as the services were over, I headed straight to the confession booth. Mello tried to question me, but I just pushed him away and made a bee-line for that damnable box. The priest saw me and made his way into his side. Tch, always ready to hear the words of a fallen brother. As I closed the little door behind me, I got comfortable on the hard wooden bench that was provided. The sound of people talking was nearly deafening and that brought a contented smile to my lips.
"Speak, my son," the priest commanded once he was all situated.
Leaning my head back, I let the well-practiced words slip out. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It's been sixteen years since my last confession."
"Sixteen years?" he asked in astonishment.
"Yes. I have a confession for you Father, something that's been weighing on my mind."
"Speak."
As I spoke, I gently pulled out the gun from my hoodie and screwed on the silencer I always carry in my back pocket. "Years ago, I was violated by a man, Father. He sexually abused me, but I was too scared to go against him."
"What a horrid creature," the man murmured.
"Oh yes, Father. He promised me many things, but in the end, I got nothing but pain. Years later, I'm living happily with my boyfriend, and I see him again!"
"What did you do?" he asked. "God will forgive the harsh words and reckless actions of any man. Also, he will damn such a sinful man to the fiery depths of hell. Now pray, tell me what you did."
"Please, come a little closer to the screen," I whispered. "I'm afraid that the others might hear of my sinful deeds." That man was too engrossed to even realize that I wasn't speaking with my Australian accent. Instead, he leaned his head against the grate. I pressed my lips against the metal that separated us and pressed the nozzle of the gun against it too. "I…murdered him."
The trigger was pulled and warm liquid splattered on my face. I felt the chuckle force its way through my chest as I opened my eyes and watched his body twitching. I couldn't have him living and identifying me later, so pulling that weak grate from the wall, I aimed two more shots and finished the job. My personal job. Still chuckling, I dragged my tongue over my upper lip, tasting the filthy blood that dripped down.
Wiping my face on my hoodie, I was pleased to see that the black material did a decent job of hiding the blood. It wouldn't hold up to close scrutiny though, so I needed to get out quickly. Resisting the urge to spit on the corpse, since that would only provide the police with my DNA, I eased out of the booth. I made sure that no one noticed my departure and I grabbed Mello's arm and headed out of the church.
"What the heck's going on?" Mello asked as soon as we were half-way to the car. "First you head off to the confession and then you tear out of there like hell's hounds are at your heels! If you're just embarrassed about confessing, then-"
Anything he was thinking about saying was immediately lost as I pulled my hand away from his and flashed the bloody appendages in front of him. His mouth dropped open as he noticed the blood on my hoodie and some still clinging to the tips of my hair. Absolute horror and confusion was etched on his face as I tugged him along to the car.
Jungle Robba was sitting on the hood of my Mustang and smoking a cigarette. When he saw us coming, he hopped off and gave me a wide grin. "How'd it go, fucker?"
"Eh, it was fine, ya know," I replied, motioning for Mello to get in the car. "I got a job call though, and I need to run off. I'll catch up with ya later, man."
Nodding, he blew a kiss to Mello before waving us off. Once back on the road, I just focused on getting us home without anyone tailing us. Mello remained dumbfounded for a good fifteen minutes of evasive maneuvers until he finally went off on me.
"What the hell where you thinking!" he screeched at me as we sat at a stoplight. "You killed a motherfucking priest of God!" Pausing in newfound horror, he proceeded to make the sign of the cross and mumble some gibberish in Latin. "Hell, Mattie, a priest, a priest!"
"I know what's a priest!" I screamed back as I clenched the wheel. "Do you really think that I would have killed him without a good reason?"
"What, did he refuse to pray for you?" Mello sneered in annoyance.
"It's none of your damn business," I snarled. "I don't need your permission to kill."
"I'm going to hell," he mumbled dejectedly as he leaned back. "There's no way out, I'm so going to hell."
"Shut the fuck up," I hissed as I pulled into our driveway.
I could never admit to him why I killed that guy. It was something that I had blocked out of my memories for a long time, and it was something that I wasn't proud of. For years, I sucked off that guy and did other things with him just to get my ticket to heaven, but it was all a lie. A lie that I was going to make sure he never told again. Still, I felt that fear fluttering against my ribs, the same fear that would haunt me every time I walked into his office. Even though he was dead, I didn't feel at peace.
Just as Mello was about to step out of the car, I grabbed his wrist. Looking down at the steering wheel in shame, I tugged him closer to me. "Kiss me, Mels," I asked quietly as the tears blurred my vision. He was my only god, the only one who had ever made that pain go away. Like a true god he gave and he took away, but at least for now he was still with me. A sigh of annoyance brushed against my ear before I felt that supernatural kiss against my lips. Salty tears slipped past my lidded eyes and down between our lips, but that was the least of my concerns. Caressing his lips and feeling those fingers in my hair, I felt the peace again.
That was the peace that would be torn away painfully.
Author's Notes: -wicked grin- I hope you all enjoyed that! Can you guys tell that something is up? -dooooom- Also, I think it is important to note that I do not believe that all Catholic priests are pedophiles or even homosexuals. That's just how it worked out in this story. So please review and I'll try to update this soon.