There are myriad reasons you might not see something. Not all of them are attributable to hiding.
[He's been leading a relatively normal life. Work, time with Myr carefully calculated to avoid taking too much, studying at the Coven, bathing every two days, sleeping every three. It's so predictable, it's almost dangerous.]
[No. There's one reason. One. Both of them know what it is.]
Don't treat me like an idiot, L. It's insulting.
You want your money or not? If you don't want to see me at all, I can leave it at a location, or you can come when I'm not here.
It's taking up space. If you leave it here, I'll spend it.
[It's taking up so much space, isn't it? Maybe somewhere in there, L will read I want to see you. Maybe not. Mello is beginning to suspect that L isn't playing a fool. He might actually be socially dense.]
[L is lacking, horrendously, in social skills. He and Near are alike that way, a stifled question in their eyes at some of Mello's more mystifying and (apparently) pointless games.
Besides. L knows what it does, when he calls Mello out on what he believes his true motives to be. It rarely goes well; it usually results in injured pride that is at least on par with being actually treated like an idiot.]
You make so many assumptions. If it's an inconvenience for you to have it there, I can collect it. Alternatively, if you truly need the money and wish to spend it, it would be a privilege to help my Bonded that way. I wouldn't object.
[Instant regret after the message is sent; their encounter was consensual. Their lack of contact afterwards appears to be consensual. But Mello will always be the shorter fuse of the two.]
I'm one of the council members set to represent the motion for integrated housing to Parliament. Eventually funds will be needed for additional housing in the various districts, as well as rent for new Mirrorbound. Donating it is an option if we're at an impasse.
[Mello doesn't donate. Never has, never will. Every man for himself; anything other than that is setting yourself up for failure. It's an hour or so before he responds: Mello was hoping the large amount of money would lure L to his doorstep, or to an exchange meeting. Anything to promote contact after what happened.]
It's all right. I need new clothes. I'll return the favor, should you ever need it.
[If L doesn't want it? Mello will gloriously spend this amount of money in a short period of time.]
My fucking Bond has been radio silent for weeks. You haven't come home. The only reason I know that you're not dead is because I would've felt it.
[Just anger flying from fingertips; Mello knows without knowing. He's with that fucking Doe. Someone out to protect him. Thing is, no one can protect any of them from themselves. And if Mello is something to be avoided -- ]
[He doesn't mention what he'd woken up to, and the healer needed to remedy the results of how roughly he'd been handled. Myr's involvement might as well be taboo, more than anything.]
What do you want from our Bond, Mello? Truly, I mean.
[Other than some form of external, vicious self-destruction. L needs to know before he answers.]
Don't be so uncharitable about presuming my assumptions. I don't want either of my Bonded to be a danger to one another.
[L was told, at least, that Myr spoke with Mello at the Seadog. He'd admitted it with some guilt, as well as some details... but if Mello is to be believed, certainly not all.]
What he knows about our world is limited. What he witnesses comes across a certain way. He only worries for my safety.
[Frankly, more than L does... and the detective doubts that staying by his side the morning after his tryst with Mello made him feel any more reassured about the situation.]
[The problem is: Mello understands things on an objective level. He knows, L knows, that they're all so well-versed in psychology that they could easily pose danger if warranted. What do they say?]
[The best doctors make the worst patients.]
And I don't want to hurt you.
[No more than he has, at least. No. No.. L consented. L invited him. Why does it all feel so wrong?]
Warn him. That's how you protect him. If he chooses to go against that, the outcome will not be my responsibility.
[Oh, if L could see how tight his knuckles are. If L could see how his teeth are clenched together, how tense his shoulders are.]
If you wanted to see me, you would have come.
You keep asking me what I want in one way or another. What do you want?
[That's the million dollar question, isn't it? What does L want?
He struggles with this. Every single day, while juggling transient living, a blissfully connected Bond, and a ruthless, relentless stalker who has promised nothing but a world of misery on the detective at some uncertain point.
And somewhere, of course, Mello fits into all of it. Mello would prefer to be the focal point, but as always, the nucleus of L's universe is not always the most demanding or the most devoted. Especially these days, when his universe is so much larger than a padded room with a computer on the floor.]
I want to leave something better than I found it. I don't know that I ever truly have, especially where my successors are concerned. Staying away might be the best thing I can do for any of you.
[And oh, that stings. L doesn't want anything that Mello has to offer, does he? He's not in awe of his beauty. He's not proud of his intelligence. He's not ... interested. Isn't that what it all comes down to? What they did -- what they should never do again -- wasn't enjoyable for either of them. It was painful: psychologically and physically. And Mello isn't fucking gay. He'll die with that on his tongue.]
I'll give it to you.
You ceased to matter the moment we received the news. I used your name as an excuse to fight my own war. N took your title. You were a casualty. Turned out none of us needed you. Mr. Wammy was the one responsible for our education. You were an example. Roger was the enforcer. You were a ghost.
[Casualty, example, ghost. All correct titles, certainly, for a man who was never really a person to more than an incomplete handful.
If he was offered the chance to go back to his room, even with the provision that he could never physically set foot outside of it again, it might be a welcome existence. A sanctuary, of sorts, from the sorts of demands that come with personhood. No one really minds a monster, especially a useful one, so long as it's contained.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[He's been leading a relatively normal life. Work, time with Myr carefully calculated to avoid taking too much, studying at the Coven, bathing every two days, sleeping every three. It's so predictable, it's almost dangerous.]
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Don't treat me like an idiot, L. It's insulting.
You want your money or not? If you don't want to see me at all, I can leave it at a location, or you can come when I'm not here.
It's taking up space. If you leave it here, I'll spend it.
[It's taking up so much space, isn't it? Maybe somewhere in there, L will read I want to see you. Maybe not. Mello is beginning to suspect that L isn't playing a fool. He might actually be socially dense.]
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Besides. L knows what it does, when he calls Mello out on what he believes his true motives to be. It rarely goes well; it usually results in injured pride that is at least on par with being actually treated like an idiot.]
You make so many assumptions. If it's an inconvenience for you to have it there, I can collect it. Alternatively, if you truly need the money and wish to spend it, it would be a privilege to help my Bonded that way. I wouldn't object.
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[Instant regret after the message is sent; their encounter was consensual. Their lack of contact afterwards appears to be consensual. But Mello will always be the shorter fuse of the two.]
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I'm one of the council members set to represent the motion for integrated housing to Parliament. Eventually funds will be needed for additional housing in the various districts, as well as rent for new Mirrorbound. Donating it is an option if we're at an impasse.
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It's all right. I need new clothes. I'll return the favor, should you ever need it.
[If L doesn't want it? Mello will gloriously spend this amount of money in a short period of time.]
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Besides... a debt, even an abstract and implicitly forgiven one, is more useful to him than the money.]
Thank you. I appreciate the kindness of your offer.
[Cordial, impersonal. Underscored by the dread L feels at the possibility that he might ever "need it."]
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So you're not going to see me.
[L isn't stupid. Mello would have forgotten that money existed and stashed it away for him. It's been weeks. Weeks since the incident.]
Am I supposed to pretend it doesn't matter? I don't do that.
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You think this is a game?
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[Just anger flying from fingertips; Mello knows without knowing. He's with that fucking Doe. Someone out to protect him. Thing is, no one can protect any of them from themselves. And if Mello is something to be avoided -- ]
[Well.]
Are we done? Tell me.
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[He doesn't mention what he'd woken up to, and the healer needed to remedy the results of how roughly he'd been handled. Myr's involvement might as well be taboo, more than anything.]
What do you want from our Bond, Mello? Truly, I mean.
[Other than some form of external, vicious self-destruction. L needs to know before he answers.]
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[Or deal with the consequences, for that matter.]
I want you to stop ignoring me. You did it back then and you do it now. I thought if we Bonded it might change. I was wrong.
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[His own note, dug out of the trash, had made him suspect. The tuft of white hair in the carpet from a shedding chimera had confirmed it.]
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I'll take care of him.
[Immediately.]
Tell me to stay away and I will. Otherwise, I want to see you. Alone. Don't bring that fucking Doe with you.
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If you understand, I'll see you.
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He came to my fucking workplace, Linden. He's lucky to have made it out alive.
You're going to defend him? Should I leave you to him?
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[Did Myr threaten Mello?]
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It doesn't matter. Just keep him in his place, or we're going to have a problem.
I didn't start it, since I know that's what you'll assume.
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[L was told, at least, that Myr spoke with Mello at the Seadog. He'd admitted it with some guilt, as well as some details... but if Mello is to be believed, certainly not all.]
What he knows about our world is limited. What he witnesses comes across a certain way. He only worries for my safety.
[Frankly, more than L does... and the detective doubts that staying by his side the morning after his tryst with Mello made him feel any more reassured about the situation.]
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[The best doctors make the worst patients.]
And I don't want to hurt you.
[No more than he has, at least. No. No.. L consented. L invited him. Why does it all feel so wrong?]
Warn him. That's how you protect him. If he chooses to go against that, the outcome will not be my responsibility.
[Oh, if L could see how tight his knuckles are. If L could see how his teeth are clenched together, how tense his shoulders are.]
If you wanted to see me, you would have come.
You keep asking me what I want in one way or another.
What do you want?
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He struggles with this. Every single day, while juggling transient living, a blissfully connected Bond, and a ruthless, relentless stalker who has promised nothing but a world of misery on the detective at some uncertain point.
And somewhere, of course, Mello fits into all of it. Mello would prefer to be the focal point, but as always, the nucleus of L's universe is not always the most demanding or the most devoted. Especially these days, when his universe is so much larger than a padded room with a computer on the floor.]
I want to leave something better than I found it. I don't know that I ever truly have, especially where my successors are concerned. Staying away might be the best thing I can do for any of you.
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[And oh, that stings. L doesn't want anything that Mello has to offer, does he? He's not in awe of his beauty. He's not proud of his intelligence. He's not ... interested. Isn't that what it all comes down to? What they did -- what they should never do again -- wasn't enjoyable for either of them. It was painful: psychologically and physically. And Mello isn't fucking gay. He'll die with that on his tongue.]
I'll give it to you.
You ceased to matter the moment we received the news. I used your name as an excuse to fight my own war. N took your title. You were a casualty. Turned out none of us needed you. Mr. Wammy was the one responsible for our education. You were an example. Roger was the enforcer. You were a ghost.
Are you absolved?
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If he was offered the chance to go back to his room, even with the provision that he could never physically set foot outside of it again, it might be a welcome existence. A sanctuary, of sorts, from the sorts of demands that come with personhood. No one really minds a monster, especially a useful one, so long as it's contained.]
I can say that I understand you more clearly.
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