A/N: I'll be honest, every time I sat down to write this I got distracted.
HOWEVER, I do come bearing, not only a chapter, but a bit of cosplay awesome. My darling BB-chan, Azeira, more commonly known as Shizuka no Taisho here on FFN, has done a brilliant cosplay of Pink Haired Matt! I demand you lot go check it out, tell her how much you love it. XD
(Just delete the spaces in the URL)
http: / / azeira . deviantart .com/art/A-Much-Needed-Smoke-Break-203910042?q=gallery%3Aazeira%2F4200558&qo=9
http: / / azeira . deviantart .com/art/Where-Are-You-Mello-203911197?q=gallery%3Aazeira%2F4200558&qo=7
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Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and thus no money is being made off of this work.
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Chapter 16
They sat, shoulder to shoulder, in a blank silence. Emotions were not allowed in this game; furthermore, sound was inconsequential, rendering speech meaningless. But touch… touch was the grand communicator between the two of them.
Gone was the double pained glass that they had grown so accustomed to. Like a mirror, separating two distinctly different worlds, two halves unable to make a whole, not even sure if they were meant to. The glass had been the status quo. A defining characteristic. The glass could be touched, but never passed, never broken, never breached. One of them could lose themselves that way. And Beyond Birthday felt so dangerously close to losing himself.
But then again, he was in a straight jacket. That didn't speak much for his possession of fully functioning mental capacities. It was also demeaning, but B had a feeling his Sweetest Jam liked it that way. The boy played rough. It brought a smile to B's face and he nudged Light with his shoulder.
The ease of his escape had been a demonstration. To show that he could actually do it. There was nothing keeping him behind the bars. Leaving he could do at his leisure. B had always known that, the doctors on the other hand had not.
Light had though.
Light always knew.
B rested his head against the college student's shoulder, nuzzling into Light's neck. The tickle of his hair against Light's cheek brought out a beautiful sound from the boys lips, a gasp, short, undignified, cute. B rather liked hearing it.
"I told you we could do it."
Light's eyes rolled down to inspect the tufts of wild hair cuddling against him. "What we? I did nothing."
"You didn't tell them," B pointed out.
Light chuckled. The sound was bitter, but then B figured Light had a lot of things to be bitter about. "And what would I tell them? That you were planning to break out, again? I didn't know!"
"I didn't break out last time," B argued. "That was your idea, your fault. And I stayed inside the ward. No breakout necessary."
"Semantics B, semantics," Light drawled, a thin smile making its way across his face. B loved that smile. "Besides, I'm not your accomplice here."
"If you're not my accomplice than why are you not marching me back across the street into that hell hole?"
"Because that hell hole, as you so lovingly call it, is run by idiots. I'm curious to see how long it takes them to find you."
"To find us," B corrected. He wondered when Light would begin to understand, they were no longer separate entities. The glass was gone, no more obscuring each other from view. B could see Light clearer than he could any other individual on the planet and he was fairly certain Light saw him in that exact same glow. A halo of vision better than 20/20, it was crystalline. The rosy flush that descended over Light's features as Beyond stared, taking in the unblemished perfection of simplistic insanity. Light didn't know he was insane, or maybe he did and just hid it well, but Beyond knew there were portions of that soul so intrinsically shadowed it was hard not to stare. B rather enjoyed poking at those shadowy filaments, petting them, stroking, they reacted to the touch. Only he could make them happy, make them bubble to the surface and bask in the glow.
Sweetie Jam needed to understand, he was Beyond's now. The obsession was real and there was no backing out.
Light, oblivious to the thoughtful stare Beyond was directing at him, rolled his eyes. "Again, I ask, what us?"
"The kind that lasts forever," B whispered happily against Light's shoulder. Contentment was sitting in that little hill of dirt, hugging himself in the new straight jacket Light had bought him, the two of them counting down the seconds until the prison guards finally realized where B had run off to. It was one moment Beyond would have liked to immortalize, his sentimental side shining.
"How romantic." The sarcasm was bitingly playful and only had Beyond's smile widening. His Sweetie was happy too it seemed, if not a little bitter about the fact.
"You'll find I'm quite capable when it comes to the art of love."
"…"
B wiggled in his straight jacket, angling his head to better view Light. There was a grim line on the younger male's face, amber eyes directed straight ahead as if frozen in place. The stiffness was hard to miss, especially with all the cuddling B was instigating. The murderer sobered. "You are displeased with me."
"I'm not coming back tomorrow," Light informed blithely. Really that was all that needed to be said. He wasn't going to return. He wasn't coming back. B would be alone again.
It was a startling change of subject that didn't bode well. Or maybe there was no subject change there at all. In which case, B was annoyed. "You're leaving," he restated, cheek plopping with a pout onto Light's shoulder again.
"You knew this was a temporary arrangement." Light's voice was stiff, the words more erect than a plank of solid wood. "It's not like we could talk forever."
"I think we could. And never get bored. You aren't a boring individual Sweetie Jam, despite what you try so hard to show the world. And me, I know I'm not boring."
"Don't be too sure hun, the killing people thing gets old real fast." And now his Sweetie Jam was mocking him, how quaint.
B mocked him right back. "How would you know?"
"We all have fantasies. Some are just bloodier than others."
"Hmmm," B murmured. There was such truth in that statement.
The prison they observed was unruffled by the smooth California wind threading its fingers through both their hair. The stark, gray mass of concrete and caging steel used to look impressive, instilling thoughts of bleakness that terrified every new incumbent that entered, sporting sparkling chains and the latest in prison fashion. B's suit had been orange, one piece, and incredibly unattractive. It clashed with his eyes. He'd been hoping for something more traditional, black and white stripes with a bowling ball strung to his ankles.
The fences winding neatly around the perimeter, separating the criminal from the citizen, were electric, buzzing with energy. Or they had been before Light had cut the power. Nice to know the man truly did care enough to break the law. He'd known B wouldn't have had time to shut down the generator and most likely would have just cut through the wire or vaulted over it without care for the four hundred volts of electricity that would course through his body on contact. Both of them imagined the interior of the prison to be wracked with chaos. B had been delivered to the institution via L's personal courier, to lose such a valuable prisoner would not reflect well on the prison's reputation.
"I could see you covered in blood," B commented thoughtfully. "And Jam…."
"That's disturbing."
"And why do I think that way?" B asked. He enjoyed it when Light rummaged through his brain, picking and dissecting the organ. It was exciting to find someone understand him so well, if not a little erotic.
The college student's response however was less than satisfactory. "Because you're a sick fucker," he murmured, face twisted in an expression far too unsightly for the rather soft features in B's opinion. Something would need to be done about that.
"Language Sweetie Jam. Why are you being so course? This is a disturbingly foul mood."
"Gee, I don't know," Light sighed in a mockery of consideration. "Maybe because I'm sitting on the side of a road, in the middle of the day, with you, while the Prison staff runs around like a bunch of headless chickens."
Oh how his Sweetie Jam could lie. "I don't believe you," B called him on the bluff and brought his face closer to Light's, nose barely brushing against the other's cheek. "Come, lovely, tell your dark master what's bothering you,"
That had an eyebrow arching alongside a rather pretty glare. "I'm leaving B. No matter how long you stall, I'm not coming back."
Now it was B's turn to glare. "What makes you think I'm not going with you?" The glare turned threatening. "What makes you think I'd even let you go without me?" It was more than frustrating, how little his Sweetie Jam really grasped of the situation. They were a coin, one in the same, each of their heads a finely minted carving on opposite sides. But one could not exist without the other. Beyond wouldn't let that happen.
They were one.
Codependence. It was dangerous, the thoughts B was having, as was the reality of the situation. But he doubted Light felt differently. From beneath the windswept fringe of unevenly chopped hair B regarded Light coolly. The boy was still staring stonily across the street and through the chain link fence which had really been too easy to scale. For the both of them.
"You don't want to go…" B realized. The murderer straightened, removing himself from Light's personal bubble and appraising the younger male critically.
"I'm not done here," Light replied softly, finally turning to look at Beyond, to actually show himself to the murderer.
"Aren't you?" B inquired, not exactly understanding what Light was saying. "I find you've uncovered a healthy amount of information about me as a person. You know what makes me tick Sweetie Jam, you and only you."
"Is that a compliment?" Light smiled.
"No, merely an observation." B smiled in return, though it was anything but a friendly motion. B didn't do friendly. "You understand me now, don't you?"
"In a way," Light said slowly, smile grim, if not thoughtful. B liked knowing he was the one on Light's mind, and for awhile he was going to be the only thing on Light's mind. "Your motives have always been clear to me, even now. The reason you're not miles down this stretch of godforsaken road, I understand that."
"Because?" B prompted.
"Because like me, you still have work to do. It's too soon for you to leave."
B nodded, smiling. His Sweetie Jam didn't want to leave him. As nice as that was, Light was right. It was too soon to leave. Way too soon. There were no pawns in play yet, hell he didn't even have any pawns to play. The chessboard was an empty expanse of a black and white picnic blanket with him in one corner and Light too hesitant to step onto the bored. There were only three others who'd thrown all their chips down on the table to mix with his. Two weren't even aware of the fact. And one could not play chess with only four pieces, no matter how good they were at cheating. It was too soon. Yet, everything was moving according to plan, just the way Darling wanted it to.
"I like you," B concluded after a second and a half of thought.
Light rolled his eyes. "I thought I was a jackass."
"That's why I like you."
The men in white coats appeared from within the Institution, minute pinpricks of blankness, like tiny scraps of paper blowing wildly across the ground. And wild they were. The doctors - they had sent doctors instead of guards – were moving over the grounds of the prison in frenzy. Headless chickens indeed.
"Oh look," Light whispered, a cunning grin moving over his lips. "They're coming to take you away."
"Ha ha hee hee ho ho!" B sang gleefully.
Light stood, the graceful movement leaving Beyond to stare up at him with a mixed expression of triumph and annoyance. Light however didn't even look the murderer in the eye as he began to cross the street, not even pausing to look out for oncoming cars. They both knew there would be none. To B the sudden movement was an acquiescence of point, Light knowing he needed to leave for the very same reason B was going to be staying put. Which was terribly dull, only thing to look forward to was Spaghetti Day given that the dish reminded Beyond of slurping intestines. Both had separate directions to walk, and that was because they were one and the same. Tied together at the finger with a nice, blood red string.
However, his Sweetie Jam's little notion that he could just turn his back on him, that wasn't okay.
Not.
At.
All.
The straight jacket fabric tore easily, Beyond had always been unnaturally strong. The sound of ripping canvas perforated the air as B dove to his feet, the arm strands of his hug-me-jacket flying through the air with him as he pummeled into the back of Light, tackling the younger male down onto the asphalt.
B sat up, allowing for Light to roll over and face the feral grin plastered widely over Beyond's face. Light didn't flinch at the expression of clear, cold cut possessiveness burning in Beyond's bloodied eyes, he accepted it, accepted B, but not without protest.
That was to be expected.
B pinned his Jam down, ramming his hips against Light's as cloth covered hands slammed the student's wrists against the pavement, rubbing them into the black, tar for good measure. The boy would have cute little scars and bruises around his wrists the next day, B's favorite brand of jewelry. The possessive leer leveled at Light widened as Light winced in pain, but his eyes never left B's.
"Remember dear," B said, voice puncturing every word with a hidden threat and obvious passion. The murderer meant what he was saying, what he was promising. "I'm the one who's going to kill you."
Light scoffed, eyes narrowing at the man. "I thought we'd already gone over this B."
B smiled. The heavy footfalls of the doctors running towards them was suspended in the background of his mind, each step the tick of a countdown till he would have to let his Sweetie go. So he savored it. His head fell down into the all too familiar crook of Light's neck, the sweet scent of caramel, coffee, and jam filling his nostrils as he breathed in the essence of his other half.
Hands fell over his arms, doctors pulling him back. But he didn't let go of Light, he didn't want to. "This isn't a goodbye." The statement wasn't whispered and the doctors heard it loud and clear, but none so clearly as Light.
B smiled as those pretty eyes widened up at him, and then he pressed his lips to Light's.
3B
The fluttering motion of sleep filled amber eyes was accompanied by a less than pleased groan. Light could detect the neon of an alarm clock somewhere to his right, the fait light of the cursed devise refracting off the bare hotel room walls. It took him less than a second to remember he was not, in fact, sleeping in his own hotel room but instead residing in one of the spare rooms L had, the paranoid detective deciding it best to hold Light hostage. That however did not explain why Light was waking up a good four hours before seven AM. The wide, unblinking gaze observing him, however, did.
God he could feel those fucking eyes in his sleep, the stare alone spreading a pulse of electricity through his hair, raising the strands on end. Blankly, Light looked over his employer, the man he'd made out with in the kitchen mere hours ago. To see L sitting there, apparently foregoing the need to hydrate his eyeballs, hovering over his bed while he slept… well that wasn't awkward at all. Yet, to Light's sleep muddled mind, the poof of raven hair haloing over L's pale visage gave the man a distinct, baby hedgehog like appearance. Coupled with his terrible posture and chewing habits, it made for a rather cute picture in Light's eyes. If only the detective wasn't acting like a deranged stalker.
"How often do you watch me sleep?" Light asked softly, sitting up slowly and reaching for the lamp.
"Often enough," L shrugged, as if admitting to the possessive tendency was entirely normal. "I find it intriguing."
Light blinked. "You find watching me sleep intriguing?"
L nodded, leaning forward slightly, thumb still in his mouth. "You're peaceful, restful. Yet, sometimes you whimper as if in pain."
Light was unsure what to makes of the assessment. It was one of those moments where he wished he actually could see himself from another prospective, watch himself as he slept. Out of body, out of mind.
Taking in the bags and the darkened skin beneath L's eyes, it explained a bit of L's character. People were vulnerable when in slumber, unaware of everything but the dreams their minds threaded together out of boredom. L would rather work than give into such vulnerability, than admit to such humanity.
"I can't help but wonder what Light dreams about," the man said, genuinely curious.
"What do you think I dream about L?"
L's head tilted, a familiar sign of him falling into thought. "I suppose Light would dream about his past. His is more exciting than normal."
L wanted to discuss Beyond again. Light could suddenly see the burning desire to ask after the murderer in L's stance. But he wasn't going to go there. Not now.
"Unfortunate things happen," Light said, completely uncommitted to the conversation at hand. "With my father's line of work a lot of unfortunate things happened. I can't plan what I dream about, but remembering the events that way is a lot better than having them assault me as I'm walking down the street."
L hummed in agreement. "Yes, people would stare at you funny if you broke down in public. But dreams don't have to be unpleasant."
"I didn't say all of mine were."
"What are your pleasant dreams about?"
"What are yours?" Light countered. Personal questions. He wasn't entirely ready for those either, not when L had a motive.
L thought the question over for a minute or two. "I think it may be best if I show Light instead."
And then L stood on his chair and stepped onto the mattress, the soft bed dipping under his weight as he moved over Light's body to straddle the other's waist. Gripping the back of Light's neck with his hand he firmly pulled Light towards him, claiming soft, pink lips with his own slightly chapped ones. His tongue delved into the younger's mouth, exploring, mapping the very feel of the warm flesh and memorizing every taste Light had to offer. And it was beautiful, the feeling of Light's tongue battling, tangling, clashing against his own. The unmistakable flavor of passion that L couldn't help but mark as distinctly Light, it was exactly as he'd imagined the boy tasting. L knew he didn't have Light. Not yet. Not completely. But the willingness the boy displayed certainly spoke of L's chances.
Light responded to the kiss, the presence of L's tongue flicking down his throat and marking the territory as its own. He pressed against the detective's chest, basking in the surprising warmth L gave off, lithe muscles pulsing against his hands as they moved over L's chest, the soft whiteness of L's uniform apparel sliding comfortingly against his palms. It felt safe. Light didn't know how else to describe it, he didn't even know why he would have described it that way. There was nothing secure about the way L was touching him, moving against him, the detective's sudden arousal grinding against his hips, toying at his boxers and eliciting a similar response. The rational side of Light's brain, which at that moment was shrinking and shrinking fast, clamored against the movement of Light's lips, nipping and sucking against L's own. Nothing good would come from this, no matter how blissfully serene Light felt in that moment, breath tangling against L's own.
The two breathed heavily against each other, moths still meeting, teeth still clashing, tongues still dueling, hands never ceasing to explore the curvature of the other's body. But their actions were slowing, the times they'd separate for air becoming longer until they were simply pressed against each other. Light's body was flush, pinned between the headboard and L who had no desire to let the boy go. L kept one hand firmly on the back of Light's neck, fingers toying with the light, brown locks, the other hand held over the band of Light's boxers, thumb playfully dipping beneath the elastic. And they stared. L gazing downward, Light looking up, the fall and rise of their chests perfectly in sync.
They stared at each other in horror filled anxiety.
Things like this were never supposed to happen. Light, however, didn't have the strength to push L off of him. Fuck, he didn't want to push L off. The weight of the detective was simply comfortable, reassuring.
"L…" The syllable fell heavily off the tip of Light's tongue, as if weighted down by chains and an anvil. There was a question somewhere in that single syllable, Light just wasn't sure what he was asking. Though the word 'why' seemed like a fairly reasonable guess.
L's wide, black eyes blinked slowly, contemplating something. Light could see the brilliant mind racing but he honestly had no idea what L was thinking. It was disturbing, as normally he could read the detective so well, not like a book, that would've been boring, but better than perhaps anybody else could. It spoke of how out of their depths they both were. Light was no stranger to physical contact, even intimacy, but when your partner was the Greatest Detective in the World things became muddled if not chaotic in Light's mind. He could only imagine the havoc moving through L's, whose social skills seemed to go no further than annoying the hell out of people.
"We have work to do Light," the detective finally whispered, sitting back down atop Light's legs, removing his hand from Light's waist to place a thumb between his lips. But he did not relinquish his hold on Light's neck.
"It's barely morning," Light protested, eyes widening at the thought of not being allowed to go back to sleep. Neither of them wanted to discuss emotions, and if they weren't going to be doing that then Light was going back to bed.
Irritation flashed over L's eyes, but it was fleeting. "Yes, but we are on a countdown. I believe Light has had ample time to rest and readjust his mind so he should be fully functional at the moment."
"So making out was just your version of a wakeup call?"
L had no answer to that, which made Light growl. Easily he pushed L off of him, scrambling out of bed and for the bathroom.
"I'll be out in five minutes, just let me shower," he called over his shoulder.
But L's sudden hand around his wrist made him stop and turn. The uncomfortable glaze on L's face was apologetic, something Light knew L was unused to feeling let alone communicating, especially when there really was nothing to apologize for, save confusion. Chapped lips pecked Light's own hesitantly before L released his grip and shuffled hurriedly out of the room.
Light couldn't help snorting in amusement. Damn detective was too cute. Smile softly sparkling in his eyes, he moved into the bathroom.
It was a record shower time for Light. He was out within three minutes, got dressed in four, so L was just sitting down to the dining table with a platter of chocolate, caramel cheesecake, fork hanging out of his mouth, eyes soaking in a large roll of paper, which took up most of the table. Light took a seat aside L, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he surveyed the map of London. Though it was more what was on the map that had him perplexed, if not a little concerned for the sanity of those he worked with.
"What's with the robots?" he asked slowly, fearing the answer.
"They are not robots," said Near, fixing Light with a very pointed glare. "They are Transformers." And then he began explicating further, the information making Light's mind reel. "This is Megatron," Near pointed towards a silver robot with fierce shoulder pads and claws. "He is the leader of the Decepticons and our representation of Beyond Birthday. Decepticons have red eyes and often transform into aircraft."
Light nodded slowly, noting that the silver robot, Megatron, was standing over the street Unnatural Flooring Co. could be found on, the last place they'd seen Beyond.
"These transformers are us, the Autobots." Light didn't miss the spark of pride in Near's voice as he said that. "We're the good guys, as shown by our blue eyes. We hail from the planet Cybertron."
L took a bite of cake, taking a moment to savor the overly sweet flavors before breaking into the conversation. "Near uses toys to assist his mental processes, in much the same way I eat sweets and you drink coffee," he nodded pointedly towards the cappuccino Watari had just passed to Light.
"I wouldn't need the coffee if we were working at a normal hour," Light grumbled, before raising his voice to address Near. "Why is there a Decepticon with the Autobots?" he asked, noticing that one of the robots had red eyes, not blue.
"That is you," Near explained simply, nodding to the cluster of robots he'd assigned their motley crew. "Undercover operative of Megatron."
"You're saying I work for Beyond," Light concluded.
"Yes," Near nodded, happy to see Light understood. "You've been befriending Optimus Prime, who represents L, when in reality you are trading information to Beyond. Rodmius Major, that's Matt, and Ultra Magnus, me, are suspicious of you, but Optimus Prime refuses to yield to reason."
"…" Light didn't quite know how to respond to that particular branch of information, so he took a sip of his coffee and tried not to burst out laughing.
"I don't know what Little Bunny Foo Foo there is talking about," Matt announced, coming into the room from the kitchen, soda can in one hand, an older gameboy model in the other. "This Rodmius Major has no idea what to think of you, other than you are intelligent and way to pretty."
Near's mouth thinned as Matt spoke, but otherwise the boy remained silent, intently contemplating Megatron.
Light, anxious to return to planet Earth, turned back to L. "Is there a point to this beyond Near's playtime?"
"We are examining things from a different angle," L informed through a mouthful of cake. "A visual representation of events may in fact assist us in gaining further insight into the case."
"Did it have to be done with robots?"
"Transformers," Near corrected with a scowl.
Matt rolled his eyes. "Near volunteered to set the table," he said, looking over the map in distaste similar to Light's. "We honestly had no clue he'd do this."
"Has it helped us find anything?" Light asked, ignoring Near and the obnoxious sounds coming from the cake slurping man who could have fathered the irate albino.
"Not a damn, fucking thing."
L let out a depressed sigh. "Is there anything on this map that strikes you as connected to the letter B left us?" the detective inquired, languidly licking caramel from his fork with childish displeasure.
Light scanned over the map once more, his mind quickly picking out every avenue and street he'd walked down since coming to London. There weren't many of them and most he wouldn't attribute to Beyond Birthday. The man's taste's were far from simple, in fact B could have a rather large flair for the dramatics if he wanted, a flair Light suspected Beyond would be sating with his next kill. The elegance and flamboyant nature of the calligraphy note B had left behind said as much. Which is why the area would be rather large, a stage fit for theatricality… a stage fit for a B…
Light's eyes were instantly drawn to the winding River Thames, which stretched across London. There was a portion of it, towards the eastern end of the River, just before it emptied into the North Sea, which his mind highlighted. The S-curve, or more accurately, the B-curve stood out atop the map, illuminated, taunting.
"Can I see the note B left," Light asked softly, standing and walking around the table to better see the river.
Matt nodded, picking out a copy of the note from a stack of files sitting at the end of the table and handing it to Light. "What are you seeing?"
"I don't know," Light answered honestly. His mind was far from working at full mental capacity, running only on caffeine and a smore from mere hours ago. Such was hardly a proper condition for one to be making educated deductions, not that the World's Greatest Detective seemed to care, but Light couldn't help but feel he was stretching things some.
Carefully he looked at the fastidious letter 'B' curving across the page and then at the curve of the river's east end. The center line of the letter matched exactly, the degree of the curve, the diameter of the swirl, the two images were perfectly congruent.
But it was a squiggle of a river. He could just be projecting. Yet, Light knew he wasn't. He was never wrong. Not ever. No matter how unlikely the case, or how desperately he seemed to be grasping for a thin, little straw, he was never wrong. In which case, he knew exactly where Beyond was headed.
"What are you seeing Mr. Yagami?" L asked stonily, tone suggesting that Light hurry his ass up and share with the class.
Light didn't answer, he saw no reason to do so, showing L would be much more effective and maybe he'd come off looking less like an idiot deriving meaning from squiggly lines and more like the renowned profiler he was. He grabbed a pen off the table and carefully traced the curve of the river bank before mimicking the calligraphy of Beyond's letter 'B' over it. The designs lined up perfectly, and the elegant 'X', written at the top of the note, marked the spot.
Matt's eyes widened and he tore the riddle from Light's hands, rapidly glancing back and forth between it and the portion of the map now shaded in black sharpie. "How the hell did you see that?"
Near and L's reactions were more subdued, as in not present at all, but their eyes were trained on the 'X' dotting the bank of the River Thames. Apparently they weren't going to question Light's deduction at all, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He'd been prepared to back the thought up vehemently, but that seemed to be unnecessary, and perhaps it was because L was getting desperate. It showed in the tension of his bad posture, spinal column tingling with duress and repressed anger. There was no time to question Light, and the possibility of Light being right far outweighed the possibility of him being wrong.
"Pull up that address," L demanded steadily, oblivious to Light's own misgivings. A plan was already beginning to form in the Detective's mind as he took in the areas surrounding the mark. There were less than forty eight hours until Beyond claimed his next victim, and with a plausible location to work with it gave them an edge, blunt though it may be. "I want surveillance from all street cameras in a two mile radius of the area and a detailed log of everything that's been floating down that river."
3B
It was like being a teenage girl waiting for the phone to fucking ring, and it absolutely was not a feeling Mello enjoyed. Didn't matter how many times Matt had told him his hair and constant mood swings made him look like a female PMSing, Mello didn't like sitting by the phone waiting for it to ring. …and his hair was fucking perfect.
"You should go to sleep Little Dear."
Mello shivered as the voice hissed pleasantly into his ear, moist lips brushing against the shell of his ear.
That was another thing. If the phone in fact did ring Mello wouldn't be able to answer it, not when he was caged in Beyond Birthday's lap being petted like a fucking kitten.
"If you want me to sleep than you should let me go," Mello gritted angrily.
B chuckled darkly, the amusement he breathed outward positively toxic. "You're not comfortable here?"
"No. You're bony and the stupid petticoat is itchy and there's just no fucking way I'd be able to fall asleep in your arms. The thought alone is disturbing."
B writhed slightly, arms encircling the blonde tighter, digging into the boy's stomach. "Do you really find me that repulsive Little Dear?"
Mello craned his neck, taking in as much of Beyond's form as he could view. The man was dressed rather eccentrically, a white, entirely too translucent, petticoat fluffing around the man's waste in waves of tulle while his normal, white, stained and torn, cotton shirt feel baggily over his chest. White combat boots completed the "look" alongside black fishnets. The man looked like a Lolita prostitute with scraggly hair falling in a deranged pattern over his face, obscuring dark, red eyes from view. At his feet sat his eclectic bored game, bright childhood figures scattered across the surface.
In a word, the picture Beyond Birthday made was indeed, repulsive.
Mello scowled, armed with a healthy dose of sarcasm, and attempted to extract himself from the cross dresser's hold. "No, really I'm madly in love with you Uzhas, this is just me playing hard to get."
B nuzzled his head into Mello's neck, laughing fondly. "Then let me catch you."
He was flirting with a murderer… fuck there was something incredibly wrong with him if he was flirting with a murderer. Mello's eyes went wide and he struggled against B harder, fervently, as if his life and sanity depended on it, which they both in fact did.
"Let me go B!" he exclaimed violently, clawing at the think fingers digging into his stomach painfully.
B's laughter floated throughout the room, an echo adorning the gilded walls and crystal fixtures with a haunting lilt. "Please Little Dear, don't fret. You're not my type," B whispered against the pale neck below him. "I like brunets."
Mello stilled. "Like L?"
An affronted sniff came from the serial killer, B's grip loosening a fraction, allowing Mello to breathe better. "L is…lovely in a way…"
Lovely. Beyond practically purred the word, treating it as something soft and erotic, like silk sheets pouring over bare skin, liquefied by moonlight. It wasn't vulgar, the phrase was longing, it's hesitance filled with a viscous curiosity, innocent despite the intelligence buried beneath its surface. It disturbed Mello, twisted his insides like putty, squeezing, stretching, and kneading his intestines until they were an unrecognizable mass of nausea. It was sickening because he felt it too, the burning desire for L, the need to uncover the mystery and claim it for himself. The simple idea of it all was…lovely.
"You hate him," was all Mello found himself capable of saying in response.
B nodded. "This is why I'll make him even lovelier. It may be cheesy to think, but that pale skin would contrast so beautifully with the cold, blue blood running through that man's veins."
"L is anything but cold."
B laughed again, but the sound was biting, caustic, like a cheese grater rubbing against Mello's ears. "You think he cares about you?" the murderer taunted, mockingly caressing the blonde's shoulders. "You think he's rushing to save you?"
"I'm second place," Mello scoffed. "He's not coming for me." Second place didn't matter, not even to the individual standing on the highest level of the podium. Maybe Matt cared, actually Mello was damn sure the pink headed idiot cared, enough to go looking for him at least. But L? L wasn't engaging Beyond for the sake of a child born in second place, he was opposing B because it was B. "He's coming for you. He cares enough about something to come after you."
"The alleviation of his boredom," B drawled automatically, as if he'd gone over the reason for L's involvement numerous times before and had become bored with the topic.
"No," Mello said, fumbling against B's hands, still trying to free himself from the man's skeletal embrace. "That's why he solves other cases. His coming after you, that's a matter of pride. His pride. Wammy's pride."
Beyond considered the idea in interest, inspecting the notion from every facet, staring into its brilliance with a microscope before reaching a conclusion. "Pride is easily broken. It may bring him to me, but when he leaves he will have none."
"You're going to let him live when he finally comes?" Mello hadn't expected that to be the case.
"Yes, because that will hurt him. He will hurt when I leave him, and after I leave he'll never find me again."
"He won't," Mello agreed. There was no reason the detective would be able to find Beyond after this, if he could have Mello wouldn't be wrestling with the murderer now. "He won't find you, but I will."
More laughter filled the negative space surrounding them, once more chilling and playful. "Oh no, Little Dear," B smiled condescendingly down at the top of Mello's head, "You'll be coming with me."
A soft buzzing came from the pocket of Mello's pants, and B stilled, glancing down at the small bulge. A knowing smile turned the corners of his lips upwards, filling Mello with a keen sense of dread. Adroitly, thin, spider like fingers descended into Mello's pocket and the phone was removed, pinched between two fingers. Green eyes followed the graceful, taunting movement with baited breath. If B looked at the number…
But he didn't. With a smile Beyond passed the phone over, kissing the boy on the cheek. "Here you are Little Dear. I'll leave you to it." And then he left, carelessly shoving the teen onto the floor as he stood, a psychotically amused grin on his face, which did nothing to quell the unease simmering the boy's gastric juices.
He waited until the serial killer left, a cute little tune being hummed from between his lips as he walked, petticoat swaying in time to the deranged noise. Beyond waved jauntily over his shoulder as he stepped over the threshold of the ballroom, leaving Mello alone with the disposable cell phone.
B knew who was sending the message, and he wanted Mello to look at it. The entire thing screamed "trap" the way an uncovered hunting snare did. But Mello didn't care. The notion was more than a bubonic plague to Mello's mind, it was a ravaging, churning, cancer mutating and spreading through every corner of his mind as he worked at full mental capacity to solve the problem. Issue was, the trap had to be sprung before the pieces could fall into place.
Hesitantly, pulling his eyes from B's departed form, Mello flipped the phone open and read the text.
'He'll be gone tomorrow. Call this number the moment he leaves.'
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A/N: So? What are your thoughts?