A/N: Poor Light, he really has the worst luck.
R&R and enjoy.
Cold, blue eyes glared at me from behind the gun. The boy had to be younger than Light. His blonde hair swept down to his chin and his body was obviously under-developed, yet those melancholy eyes were void of remorse.
"Hands up," he barked.
Light raised his hands, remaining composed. It was no use to react frantically; it would probably entice the boy farther.
"Mello, relax," a redhead with strange goggles touched Mello's waist. "He looks thirsty. Give'm some water before you decide whether or not you should shoot'im."
Mello hesitated and finally signaled the bartender to get Light a drink. "Drink up, boy," he demanded.
So Light gratefully did. He drank it slowly, the water rushed down his throat, cleansing the burning thirst. He closed his eyes, trying to devise a plan while. The saloon composed of large, pissed off men who could snap Light in half with their pinky fingers. Mello and his redhead friend stuck out, though. Light assumed Mello commanded these men and was the brighted, with the exception of the redhead lounging in the chair. The cup drained and Light no longer had an excuse to keep his eyes closed. He had yet to think of a plan.
"Who sent you?" Mello asked, his voice suddenly calm. Matt caressed Mello's thigh, easing him in ways only Matt could. If it weren't for his idiot followers in the room, he would've grabbed Matt and ravished him on the table. But, first he had to deal with the skinny prick who strutted into the saloon like he owned it. He was a good looking guy, except for the fact that he had no shirt and his skin had been burnt bad. There was only one reasonable explanation; he was sent to spy on Mello. What he didn't know, however, was this saloon was only for the members of Mello's gang.
The boy's eyes narrowed; he was thinking. Immediately, Mello couldn't stand him. He had always been competitive, and this man was about to pose a challenge.
"Sent me?"
"Yeah. The sooner you admit it, the sooner I'll let you go," Mello lied.
His lie was obvious; Light picked up on it immediately. Even though he hadn't been 'sent', he was immediately put under suspicion because he was a stranger. Unlike the other saloon, this place wasn't full of visitors; these men all obviously knew each other. Light cursed himself for letting his obscene thirst lead him to this place. He could run, but not with the gun aimed right at him. And this Mello was anticipating pulling the trigger.
"I just wanted some water," Light promised.
"Get him another glass," the redhead suddenly spoke. The bartender immediately passed Light another glass. Maybe Mello wasn't in charge.
Mello shot Matt a dirty look. His loyalty seemed to have a limit; he never followed Mello blindly. But, maybe it was why Mello couldn't keep his hands off him when they were alone. It was considered dirty where he was from, man with man-which made it all the better.
"Alright, if you won't admit it, I'll just kill you," Mello cocked the gun.
Matt stood up, placing his hand on his lover's. Sometimes Mello could be so impulsive. He was a genius, but he was too passionate. If he gave way to every emotion, it would certainly lead to his death. That was why Matt was there; he was Mello's balance. Matt didn't believe in random murder, and always encouraged Mello to not act so abruptly. Mello yanked his hand from Matt's, immediately understanding the message. He was sick of Matt telling him what to do, though.
"Don't let him leave your sight," Mello barked. "I'll be back in a second. And you-boy-don't move." He began to walk outside with Matt nearly trudging on his heels.
Light leaned against the bar, deciding if he was going to die, he wouldn't beg. Sure, he didn't want to die, but like Hell he would ask anything from these pathetic people. In fact, he might get the chance to manipulate them. A man with a broad jaw caught his eye from across the room and a frightening grin spread across his face. Light averted his gaze, deciding not to make eye contact with these sick people. He partly wished he were a spy, sent to find this gang; at least his demise would've been much more interesting. Instead-he was running from an idiot because he had sex..with an idiot.
'I'm an idiot,' Light decided. 'From now on, I have to plan my actions much more carefully. And no more drinking-heavily.'
Outside, Matt pulled a rolled up cigarette from his pocket. He stuck it in his mouth and lit it, sucking in the sweet tobacco. "What is it, Mello?"
"As if they ain't suspicious enough, you keep touching me," Mello snapped. "Shit, Matt, fuck off."
Matt chuckled, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Mel, don't hide it. You're just angry 'cause I keep tellin' you what to do. I told you from the beginning, though; I ain't gonna tolerate your reckless behavior. You'll get yourself killed and I don't want that to happen."
"I can take care of myself."
"Whatever you say, Mel."
Mello boiled with rage. His lover was so casual, so indifferent, yet he always wanted Mello to follow his beliefs. His fingers shook as he tried to decide what to do with the man inside. Normally, he would just have killed him. What's one more death on his conscience? Yet, he couldn't get Matt's nagging morals out of his head. The damn guy had really shoved them in hard.
Finally, Mello gave in. "If we don't kill him, I'm gonna keep'im here until we figure out what to do with him."
"Fine," Matt agreed. A triumphant smile spread across his face, tempting Mello to punch him in his jaw. With a grunt, Mello turned to the door and walked inside. He grabbed a tuft of Light's hair and pulled him close to my face.
"Listen here," he spat. "We're gonna keep you here. You'll do house work and all the shit that these boys refuse to do."
Light couldn't argue with that. At least in that scenario he got to live. Plus, it gave him a plethora of time to devise an escape plot. Maybe one that involved killing all these low lives-but what would Lawliet think? He had always encourage Light to see the world through merciful judgment's eyes. Did he still believe that?
Mello dragged Light through the room, yanking him by his hair. Cat calls enveloped the room, all directed at Light. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable, conscious of all the eyes watching him. He had never received so much attention, negative or positive. He glanced back, catching the red head's eyes. He threw him a sympathizing glance, but immediately covered it up. At least there was one sane person besides Light in the room.
The room that Mello tossed the in was more like a closet. He chuckled, gazing down at Light maliciously. "So, if you're going to be here, what's your name?"
Light didn't give him the satisfaction.
"Aw shucks, you don't have one?" Mello mocked him. "Well, I guess I gotta give you a name then. Aw'right, lemme think. How about Kira? 'Cause you got killer good looks."
Mello laughed at his own joke and slammed the door, leaving Light in the dark. He sighed, his breathing escalating. He had to recount the events in his head; he arrived as Saisho, met Higuchi, got plastered, slept with a girl he just met, nearly was murdered by Higuchi, rode out to the desert without a shirt to escape, suffered from dehydration, and winded up in a strange saloon with a bunch of bandits. Maybe he wasn't cut out for adventures. But, he had a strange inkling his journey was far from over. He still had yet to settle at a destination, whether it was Lawliet or something else. He partly hoped it was Lawliet.
He was left alone for hours and he found himself drifting off to sleep.
"Did you do it?" Lawliet asked.
"Yeah. How many you got?"
"4,562,712," Lawliet proclaimed.
"Really? I only got three." Light frowned, wondering why their numbers were so far off. He glanced back at the sky, only counting three stars. "Yeah, look Lawli, there are only three."
"Oh, that's strange. I counted much more than that."
Light laughed, turning on his stomach. It was nights like these he always looked forward to. Lawliet's lips were swollen from the heat and his shirt was clinging to his body. Light had the strange desire to touch him.
Suddenly, a strange sound roared behind them. Light turned to face a tidal wave rushing towards them.
"Come on, Lawleit!" he cried, but the stunned boy just lay, watching it. "We have to go!"
Light had no choice. He abandoned Lawliet and ran as fast as he could. When he glanced back, Lawliet and the water were gone. Instead, there was a strange rock, eroded with intricate patterns; water poured from it's mouth. Light was parched.
"Is he dead?"
Who said that? Light glanced around, trying to find the source.
"I donno, kick'im."
A leg suddenly slammed into Light's stomach. His eyes flew open and he curled into a ball, whimpering. He was sure he had heard something crack. The blow caused a pain that pulsed through his body over and over. He coughed, blood spat from his lips.
"Yeah, guess so," the kicker said. The two shadows stepped from the door frame; light poured into his tiny room.
"Sorry about that," Mello suddenly appeared, a coy smile perched on his lips. He wasn't sorry.
Although, he knew the pain Ross' foot could cause first hand. Before Mello controlled the gang, Ross had been the leader. But, he was unorganized and nearly got them all killed several times. The men's shallow brains made them easy to manipulate. So, Mello stepped in, promising safety, money and women; and he provided it, too. Under his orders, rarely no one was hurt. Sometimes, someone would break from the original plan and they would either die or get caught, but it wasn't Mello's problem if they didn't want to listen. Ross originally hated the idea of Mello in charge and, after an argument, he proceeded to kick Mello in the stomach. For several days, he couldn't move. But, his leadership skills never withered and finally, Ross accepted him and apologized. He became Mello's puppet, like the rest of them.
"So, are you ready to tell me why you came here?" Mello smirked, wondering if the boy could talk.
"I came here because I was thirsty."
The boy gazed up at him; his eyes were hollow and blood leaked from his lips. He looked pathetic, but Mello couldn't help but note he was tougher than Mello originally perceived. After such a painful blow to his ribs, the boy composed himself and proceeded to glare at Mello. Mello decided he would break him.
"If you were thirsty, why the fuck would you be roamin' 'round in the middle of the desert?"
"I was thirsty because I was in the middle of the desert," the boy coughed.
Mello raised his eyebrow, chuckling slightly. "You got a pretty bad temper-but not worse than mine. So I suggest you start talking."
The boy sighed and began to tell his story. His voice was weak, but he held himself together quite impressively. The story of a dreary romance and failed journey sent Mello into a hysterical fit. He hoped it was true, just because it was the most entertaining story he'd heard in a while. "So, you fucked this girl and then you almost got killed 'cause someone else was crazy 'bout her?"
"Yeah, pretty much," the boy murmured.
"You're aw'right," Mello laughed. "But it doesn't mean I'm gonna set you free."