*This is shit, please forget about this.
Title: We Are All Too Fragile
Summary: Because in B's little dollhouse, everything is too easy to break.
START
He watches with a smile as they kill themselves.
Mello and Matt are used to the red. Confined in the castle-like house, they roam around, leaving trails of footsteps in the thick dust. Everything is red here. In B's kingdom, everything is the colour of strawberry jam.
Mello bends down, picking up a rusted blade. It is only about an inch long, and he snaps it in half. The pieces are no longer of any interest to him, so he abandons them, letting them fall carelessly from his hand as he continues walking.
When he catches up with Matt, he slows, and the two of them walks along the corridors with no apparent purpose.
Nothing changes here.
The dull maroon of the velvet curtains is yet another lie that B has implemented - there are no windows. The velvet covers the concrete walls where windows are supposed to be.
Nothing changes, and Mello eventually turns away from the curtains, returning his gaze to the floor and Matt's shoes.
Today, Matt's shoes are white.
Mello knows what it means - so does Matt himself - but neither voices it out loud. B's kingdom, B's rules. B's continued happiness ensures their survival. They are not sure if speaking about it will make B angry, but it is always better not to take chances.
Because, they remember, Light Yagami had taken chances, and B does not like anything to be similar to Yagami, not after that.
And so they keep walking, retracing the previous days' footsteps. Done with this floor, they go down the stairs slowly, to the floor below, and after they have finished that floor, they proceed to the one below that. Until they reach B's door, then they pause, tilting their heads to consider.
They could always not go.
They could always refuse to walk through the door, and seek refuge in the other rooms in the large building. It is sufficiently big that it would take a few days for B to find them, but although the delay of a few days is tempting, B's punishment at the end is not worth it. They know it well.
Matt's hand reaches out to the doorknob with the barest hint of reluctance.
Mello takes a small step backwards as Matt opens the door slowly, then turns and flees when Matt enters the room.
He has no wish to know what will happen. He knows too much as it is, and knowing any more will be dangerous.
Running now, Mello tries not to let the tired tears roll down his cheeks. He does not feel much, but he feels fear with a frightening intensity. He blinks, heart thumping as the sound of Matt closing the door softly echoes behind him.
Mello does not cry, but there are tears nevertheless.
PART
Matt obediently sits as B takes out a little dress. It is girly, with ruffles and lace adorning each layer of the petticoats - and it is red, a dark burgundy with shades of purple. Matt accepts it wordlessly, turning so that B can lift up his shirt.
The cold air hits his back when B removes his shirt, but then B's fingers are even colder. The same frozen digits then unbutton his pants and help his slip out of his boxers.
The dress is now pulled over his head, rubbing uncomfortably against his sensitive skin. B has chosen to forgo the undergarments today, and Matt is shivering even before B's hands find their way to his nipples.
A chuckle.
"Mattiekins," B whispers, pushing the teen down onto the bed. His wrists and ankles are subsequently chained, the heavy metal on his skin somehow soothing yet unnatural at the same time. "Mattikins," B whispers.
B runs his hands over the slim body underneath him, feeling Matt's nervous trembling with glee.
"Mattiekins," he whispers, "How is Mello?"
Matt tenses. The subject of Mello is one that he does not wish to broach. "Fine," he replies instead, wishing that B would simply defile him and let him go, as is the routine. Rarely does B deign to converse, and when he does, something invariably takes a turn for the worse.
"He isn't missing me? Or Near?"
"Near is dead," Matt says emotionlessly.
B laughs, fingers dancing along Matt's spine. "But of course, Mattiekins, he is too delicious to save. Don't you think so...?"
Matt is silent, thinking of scarlet liquid that B drinks each day, the liquid that dries into a dirty brown. Near, he imagines, must be finished by now. Which means that Mello is next...
"Don't," he mutters, "Don't hurt Mello please."
"Oh?" comes the mocking answer. "You would sacrifice yourself for him? How sweet."
And Matt remembers that B likes sweet things.
"I hate sweet things," B says.
Unbeta'd and everything. I wrote this so that I wouldn't forget about it.
Title: We Are All Too Fragile
Summary: Because in B's little dollhouse, everything is too easy to break.
START
He watches with a smile as they kill themselves.
Mello and Matt are used to the red. Confined in the castle-like house, they roam around, leaving trails of footsteps in the thick dust. Everything is red here. In B's kingdom, everything is the colour of strawberry jam.
Mello bends down, picking up a rusted blade. It is only about an inch long, and he snaps it in half. The pieces are no longer of any interest to him, so he abandons them, letting them fall carelessly from his hand as he continues walking.
When he catches up with Matt, he slows, and the two of them walks along the corridors with no apparent purpose.
Nothing changes here.
The dull maroon of the velvet curtains is yet another lie that B has implemented - there are no windows. The velvet covers the concrete walls where windows are supposed to be.
Nothing changes, and Mello eventually turns away from the curtains, returning his gaze to the floor and Matt's shoes.
Today, Matt's shoes are white.
Mello knows what it means - so does Matt himself - but neither voices it out loud. B's kingdom, B's rules. B's continued happiness ensures their survival. They are not sure if speaking about it will make B angry, but it is always better not to take chances.
Because, they remember, Light Yagami had taken chances, and B does not like anything to be similar to Yagami, not after that.
And so they keep walking, retracing the previous days' footsteps. Done with this floor, they go down the stairs slowly, to the floor below, and after they have finished that floor, they proceed to the one below that. Until they reach B's door, then they pause, tilting their heads to consider.
They could always not go.
They could always refuse to walk through the door, and seek refuge in the other rooms in the large building. It is sufficiently big that it would take a few days for B to find them, but although the delay of a few days is tempting, B's punishment at the end is not worth it. They know it well.
Matt's hand reaches out to the doorknob with the barest hint of reluctance.
Mello takes a small step backwards as Matt opens the door slowly, then turns and flees when Matt enters the room.
He has no wish to know what will happen. He knows too much as it is, and knowing any more will be dangerous.
Running now, Mello tries not to let the tired tears roll down his cheeks. He does not feel much, but he feels fear with a frightening intensity. He blinks, heart thumping as the sound of Matt closing the door softly echoes behind him.
Mello does not cry, but there are tears nevertheless.
PART
Matt obediently sits as B takes out a little dress. It is girly, with ruffles and lace adorning each layer of the petticoats - and it is red, a dark burgundy with shades of purple. Matt accepts it wordlessly, turning so that B can lift up his shirt.
The cold air hits his back when B removes his shirt, but then B's fingers are even colder. The same frozen digits then unbutton his pants and help his slip out of his boxers.
The dress is now pulled over his head, rubbing uncomfortably against his sensitive skin. B has chosen to forgo the undergarments today, and Matt is shivering even before B's hands find their way to his nipples.
A chuckle.
"Mattiekins," B whispers, pushing the teen down onto the bed. His wrists and ankles are subsequently chained, the heavy metal on his skin somehow soothing yet unnatural at the same time. "Mattikins," B whispers.
B runs his hands over the slim body underneath him, feeling Matt's nervous trembling with glee.
"Mattiekins," he whispers, "How is Mello?"
Matt tenses. The subject of Mello is one that he does not wish to broach. "Fine," he replies instead, wishing that B would simply defile him and let him go, as is the routine. Rarely does B deign to converse, and when he does, something invariably takes a turn for the worse.
"He isn't missing me? Or Near?"
"Near is dead," Matt says emotionlessly.
B laughs, fingers dancing along Matt's spine. "But of course, Mattiekins, he is too delicious to save. Don't you think so...?"
Matt is silent, thinking of scarlet liquid that B drinks each day, the liquid that dries into a dirty brown. Near, he imagines, must be finished by now. Which means that Mello is next...
"Don't," he mutters, "Don't hurt Mello please."
"Oh?" comes the mocking answer. "You would sacrifice yourself for him? How sweet."
And Matt remembers that B likes sweet things.
"I hate sweet things," B says.
Unbeta'd and everything. I wrote this so that I wouldn't forget about it.
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