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Fic: Unwritten
comment!fic for my dear ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
shiny_glor_chan, and the prompt Death Note, Mello/Matt, they were just a bunch of numbers to Kira but that would change.
Mello had never had the eyes himself, but he'd been hyper-aware there was information, floating invisibly around him, ever since he'd learned about them, and never as much so as when Soichiro Yagami spelled his own name out to him.
Hearing out loud what he hadn't even said himself in years was a nasty shock. But afterwards, recovering, waiting for Matt, Mello told himself that the threat was contained, that the only person on Kira's side who knew his name and face was dead.
It wasn't until Matt had gotten there, yelled at him with anger they both knew was really relief, and made him get in bed, though they both also knew he wouldn't sleep much, that he wondered: what does a lifespan look like? A countdown? An hourglass? He must have still been loopy on pain and fever, because that idea made him laugh. He started to drift off.
And he was back in the hideout again, detonator in his hand, a gun he knew he wouldn't need ready in the drawer, and he almost asked, So, how long do I have? But Yagami wasn't following the script, he was pausing in his writing, he was turning to look at someone in the corner. Matt, who couldn't have, shouldn't have been there. "M-A-I," Yagami began, and Mello thought he could see it all, the name he knew, the sand running out, the numbers rolling backwards, and he snatched up the gun and took shaky aim. No! Not him.
He hadn't shouted in the dream, but he seemed to hear the echo of the denial here in the chilly bedroom, and Matt threw the door open, there and whole, unwritten, safe. "Mello?"
"Bad dream," Mello said, sitting up, catching his breath. "Just a bad dream. Come here."
Matt did, without a protest, and Mello tugged him onto the bed, wrapped his arms around him, and held on tight.
"Hey," Matt said into Mello's hair, with that little laugh he still gave, even after five years, when he was pleased but unsure. "That bad, huh?"
"Bad. But not real." He shifted back to look into Matt's eyes. "It won't be real, I swear it. You have to be careful, Matt. Kira can see us, names and numbers and..." He lost his train of thought for a moment, sidetracked by names they weren't supposed to say out loud, by other numbers that had defined his whole world. He dragged himself back to here and now by force of will, and grabbed Matt's shoulders to be sure he was listening. "Don't ever let them see you."
Matt's eyes were huge behind the goggles, and looked even huger when he pushed the lenses up onto his forehead. "Mello... I'll be careful, I won't let them, but. That's not us. No one can see us. And... we've always been more than numbers."
"You're so fucking cheesy sometimes." But he pulled Matt close again, settling his head on his shoulder. "No one's going to write us off," he whispered, and he meant it both ways. Their names would stay invisible, floating around them or whatever the hell they did; the sand wouldn't run out; the countdowns wouldn't hit zero, not until Mello was damn good and ready. And before long, everyone would know they were more than two and three, more than anything even shinigami eyes could read. "I promise."
shiny_glor_chan, and the prompt Death Note, Mello/Matt, they were just a bunch of numbers to Kira but that would change.Mello had never had the eyes himself, but he'd been hyper-aware there was information, floating invisibly around him, ever since he'd learned about them, and never as much so as when Soichiro Yagami spelled his own name out to him.
Hearing out loud what he hadn't even said himself in years was a nasty shock. But afterwards, recovering, waiting for Matt, Mello told himself that the threat was contained, that the only person on Kira's side who knew his name and face was dead.
It wasn't until Matt had gotten there, yelled at him with anger they both knew was really relief, and made him get in bed, though they both also knew he wouldn't sleep much, that he wondered: what does a lifespan look like? A countdown? An hourglass? He must have still been loopy on pain and fever, because that idea made him laugh. He started to drift off.
And he was back in the hideout again, detonator in his hand, a gun he knew he wouldn't need ready in the drawer, and he almost asked, So, how long do I have? But Yagami wasn't following the script, he was pausing in his writing, he was turning to look at someone in the corner. Matt, who couldn't have, shouldn't have been there. "M-A-I," Yagami began, and Mello thought he could see it all, the name he knew, the sand running out, the numbers rolling backwards, and he snatched up the gun and took shaky aim. No! Not him.
He hadn't shouted in the dream, but he seemed to hear the echo of the denial here in the chilly bedroom, and Matt threw the door open, there and whole, unwritten, safe. "Mello?"
"Bad dream," Mello said, sitting up, catching his breath. "Just a bad dream. Come here."
Matt did, without a protest, and Mello tugged him onto the bed, wrapped his arms around him, and held on tight.
"Hey," Matt said into Mello's hair, with that little laugh he still gave, even after five years, when he was pleased but unsure. "That bad, huh?"
"Bad. But not real." He shifted back to look into Matt's eyes. "It won't be real, I swear it. You have to be careful, Matt. Kira can see us, names and numbers and..." He lost his train of thought for a moment, sidetracked by names they weren't supposed to say out loud, by other numbers that had defined his whole world. He dragged himself back to here and now by force of will, and grabbed Matt's shoulders to be sure he was listening. "Don't ever let them see you."
Matt's eyes were huge behind the goggles, and looked even huger when he pushed the lenses up onto his forehead. "Mello... I'll be careful, I won't let them, but. That's not us. No one can see us. And... we've always been more than numbers."
"You're so fucking cheesy sometimes." But he pulled Matt close again, settling his head on his shoulder. "No one's going to write us off," he whispered, and he meant it both ways. Their names would stay invisible, floating around them or whatever the hell they did; the sand wouldn't run out; the countdowns wouldn't hit zero, not until Mello was damn good and ready. And before long, everyone would know they were more than two and three, more than anything even shinigami eyes could read. "I promise."