[L's brows raise at Mello's answer. Of course the other man wouldn't want to be thought simple; of course there must be more, even if there isn't. Not fundamentally, or truly.
They can dress it in trappings, if he wants. L can indulge.
The bartender doesn't slide L's glass to him. He sets it down carefully, as though in front of something wild that could startle at a loud sound.]
I wanted to see what you would do with an opportunity. The point of it all was that I wouldn't stop you, no matter what happened... to see what you believed I was giving to others, that you were also entitled to.
[He turns his glass in his hands. He doesn't raise it to his lips yet, because this drink is the bullet that will finish this night in a tumbling blackout. He knows his own tolerance well enough to be aware.]
[L's answer is crisp, soft and even. He keeps turning his glass in his fingers.]
It was my mistake, to be clear. I thought, incorrectly, that it would help both of us to give you what you wanted and make our Bond healthier. It turns out it wasn't what either of us wanted... and it definitely didn't help us.
[And L always manages to make Mello nothing more than a child at his feet. Putting the fact aside that he can't imagine being so intimate with someone he held in such high esteem, it's even more difficult to believe that L obliged.]
[Were they that bad-off? Was it a last-ditch salvage effort? Mello knows he's one to press, but with L — ]
[The liquor is warm and sweet against his tongue. He lets it sit for a moment before swallowing. Really, there's no proper response.]
And now you're afraid of me.
[Me. Who would've burned the world for you.]
[It's insulting, at best.]
[He finally does shift his eyes away, letting them linger on mundane things. The bartender, the backsplash on the wall, the grains of wood beneath his arm.]
It all depends on what you want. You've specified that it's neither peace or a victory. Whatever that leaves is powerful enough that you came here to confront me, no?
[One thing holds true after too much time and myriad changes and personal reflections. Surprising L is a surefire way to keep his attention and his interest, and even to tap into his more charitable side. Whatever he expected Mello to say, it wasn't that. Information, perhaps, he could have predicted... but advice?
He doesn't laugh, to his credit. Pale and bewildered, his glass stills in his fingers, and he hasn't yet taken a sip of his relative sobriety's death.]
OK...
[Wary acceptance, but acceptance, all the same. An invitation to say and ask for more.]
[And L is doing that stoic thing that he does: widened pupils and acceptance. Mello remembers it all too well. He remembers when it bewildered him as a kid; he remembers how it pushed him forward as a teenager.]
We've got a place together. It's ...different.
[Why should it matter at all?]
I don't like this commitment shit, yea. But she wants to be with me. But she wants to fuck you.
[As far as Mello knows.]
I don't know if I should walk. I can always find another monster bond.
[Now L does drink, just a small sip, but it's strong stuff, and he's already in far.]
Commitment's not for everyone.
[It's for him in a warped sort of way. He doesn't say so, but he doesn't do casual; he does deathmatch obsession, until the end, until forever's silent tomb.]
Does she? I had thought it was a one-time thing, under unusually inviting circumstances.
[A kindness for Mello, maybe. He knows in his bones that it would have happened again if she hadn't felt bad about it on his account, if L hadn't set a boundary for his sake.]
Don't walk. She cares for you, and that's not easy to find.
[Snaps a response; Mello knows people, if nothing else. He damn near drains his glass before he speaks again. And the liquor is amplifying the fact that he's here with L, that they're drinking together and speaking. A simple glance into those wide-pupiled eyes is enough to throw Mello off of his game.]
[So he plays his game. Reaching out to wrap delicate fingers around L's glass. Tugs it forward softly.]
[No, no. That's all wrong. Mello sets his drink down with a distinct downturn on his mouth. L doesn't understand.]
You're wrong.
[An internal cringe. He could never imagine saying that to L. All the same, he sips his mentor's drink, sets it down on the bar. This isn't about anything existential. What he wants from L is concrete and — ]
Come to the loo with me, yea.
[He slips forward without warning. Lands a single, light touch of his lips to L's jaw.]
[The slow stupor of drunkenness delays his reaction. Mello's able to lean in, sip the drink, touch his lips to L's face.
The force of L's full-sized phylax ramming into Mello is a surprise to both of them. No longer a bracelet in motion, she knocks Mello from his barstool, all teeth and mass looming over him and hissing. L's eyes are wide behind her, lips parted and speechless.
Mello's head is between the glowing apex predator's jaws.
Moments later, the orca has vanished. L's hands are a blur of motion resulting in a bitten, bloody wrist. He's scrawled scarlet runes on the bartop and sealed his own soul's manifestation, pale and shaking.]
[Ragged silence. Nothing but the thumping of his own heart, and L is that threatened. His version of Cat knocked it all away, and Mello, knowing his own Phylax, knows that it's a sign of protection.]
[It really was all bad, wasn't it.]
[He's still beneath the assault — L can kill him at any time through any means possible — and yet M's body is calm. Maybe the alcohol. Maybe realization.]
[Even though his eyes are wide and his body stiff; wide, pale eyes regarding what he thought was his mentor.]
[No. No, this is a rival.]
You want me dead? [He breathes through grit teeth.]
[L wraps a hand around his wrist. Quickly, both hands become bloody.]
No... never.
[He hurt himself, after all, to seal the phylax temporarily. Other patrons at the bar are giving them a wide berth; the bartender has made eye contact with the bouncers, who seem to be watching and waiting. Brawls here aren't uncommon, a sign that they don't actually throw people out at the first or even second sign of trouble.]
If I did... you would be. You know that, don't you?
[It's never taken much to push Mello over the edge. The assault created something of a survival instinct, and L's bloody hands paint a picture that he'd rather not see.]
[There's nothing here. Never will be. Even as his shoulders and back twitch from the pain, he reminds himself of one thing.]
[This L isn't his L. They've both grown. Adapted. Mello offered an olive branch and L countered with a fucking butcher knife.]
L.
[As he rights himself. This has quickly become war.]
Stay the fuck away from my girl, yea.
[And to twist the knife harder — ]
You've got Kira. Fuck him all you want. [A breath] Keep your fucking hands off of Alex.
[L leans on the bar, wavering, before resuming his seat. Clearly, he intends to remain and keep drinking. The bartender wipes the runes away now that they've accomplished their purpose, handing L the cloth once he's done. He uses it to stem his still-bleeding wrist.]
Alex and I are friends, and barring a plea from her, we'll remain as such.
[His words are steady, even as his hands tremble slightly from the shock of the last few minutes.]
It's on you, if you want to be the tyrant forcing her to make that plea, but keep in mind that real power does not have to insist.
Of course it's me. A phylax is a witch's soul; it can't lie, the way a human can.
[Making it a liability, or a last line of defense. Considering he's a man who doesn't understand or respond appropriately to his own pain and injuries, L's phylax has probably saved him a few times.]
Why did you try to kiss me? You don't profess to like other men that way, and you'd practice the same loyalty you demand from Alex, wouldn't you?
[L isn't drinking more, but what he drank already is still soaking into him. He speaks more freely than he perhaps would, ordinarily.]
You were the first human I slept with. I'm not involved with Light that way, and never have been, and like I said already, my encounter with Alex was wholly unprecedented. I'm actually in love with someone, but it's not mutual.
[His life is a mess, just like his hands. Now he reaches for his whiskey and slams it in one go.]
If you want a fight, I'll give it to you, but I really hate doing that without a purpose.
[More to drink is good. L's hand wavers but he signals the same. It's a bad idea. He's already not going to make it home by himself as it is.]
You were a child when we knew each other in our world. You might as well have been a stranger when I met you here as an adult, except that you asked me all of the questions an orphan would ask a parent who abandoned them.
[The example is specific enough to hint that really, L would know.]
Would you see someone that vulnerable in an erotic way?
[L thinks it's probably a large part of why Myr can't see him erotically. It's tender and painful to think of it. An aching kind of pleasure, to think that being around him at all is better than not having him in his life at all.]
[And Mello almost physically recoils. He was fucking fourteen, and at the time, he didn't consider himself a 'child.' Only someone younger than L who sought something beyond his reach. Because Near was First. Because Mello had to get a leg up, somehow. And L was all bones and jawline and big eyes and his teenage mind put these things together as something of a completed puzzle that needed to be torn apart.]
[It was never possible to gain all of L. That was a stupid kid's dream.]
[He immediately takes a sip when his next glass is delivered to him. This place is fucking purgatory.]
No, [He answers honestly, focusing on the liquid in his glass.]
What changed when you met me here? We fucked, yea.
[L looks narrow and diminutive, hunched over the bar in his loose, dark clothes. The effect is perhaps pronounced now that he's sealed his phylax away, stowed a shield that picks up the slack for his own self-destructive tendencies.
Tendencies, perhaps, that tied his path to Mello's the last time the younger man was here.]
You were persistent.
[Relentless.]
You believed that I left you once, that I owed you something, and maybe I came to believe that, too.
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They can dress it in trappings, if he wants. L can indulge.
The bartender doesn't slide L's glass to him. He sets it down carefully, as though in front of something wild that could startle at a loud sound.]
I wanted to see what you would do with an opportunity. The point of it all was that I wouldn't stop you, no matter what happened... to see what you believed I was giving to others, that you were also entitled to.
[He turns his glass in his hands. He doesn't raise it to his lips yet, because this drink is the bullet that will finish this night in a tumbling blackout. He knows his own tolerance well enough to be aware.]
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[He takes a swig because he wants to, doesn't break his eyes from the other man.]
And I took that opportunity, I assume.] A shift of his legs. Mello both isn't read for and wants the truth. Is L capable of telling it?]
I know that already. So what —
[A breath. Three.]
You wanted to see if I'd hurt you and I did? And you knew I would. Was that your endgame?
[You didn't want it at all?]
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[L's answer is crisp, soft and even. He keeps turning his glass in his fingers.]
It was my mistake, to be clear. I thought, incorrectly, that it would help both of us to give you what you wanted and make our Bond healthier. It turns out it wasn't what either of us wanted... and it definitely didn't help us.
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[Were they that bad-off? Was it a last-ditch salvage effort? Mello knows he's one to press, but with L — ]
[The liquor is warm and sweet against his tongue. He lets it sit for a moment before swallowing. Really, there's no proper response.]
And now you're afraid of me.
[Me. Who would've burned the world for you.]
[It's insulting, at best.]
[He finally does shift his eyes away, letting them linger on mundane things. The bartender, the backsplash on the wall, the grains of wood beneath his arm.]
Suppose it's not worth fixing, yea
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It all depends on what you want. You've specified that it's neither peace or a victory. Whatever that leaves is powerful enough that you came here to confront me, no?
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[And that's a fucking lie. It shows in Mello's eyes, the way he shifts his shoulders.]
I'm here for information. And advice.
[If L can manage to find himself in the position of Mentor with Mello ever again.]
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He doesn't laugh, to his credit. Pale and bewildered, his glass stills in his fingers, and he hasn't yet taken a sip of his relative sobriety's death.]
OK...
[Wary acceptance, but acceptance, all the same. An invitation to say and ask for more.]
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We've got a place together. It's ...different.
[Why should it matter at all?]
I don't like this commitment shit, yea. But she wants to be with me. But she wants to fuck you.
[As far as Mello knows.]
I don't know if I should walk. I can always find another monster bond.
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Commitment's not for everyone.
[It's for him in a warped sort of way. He doesn't say so, but he doesn't do casual; he does deathmatch obsession, until the end, until forever's silent tomb.]
Does she? I had thought it was a one-time thing, under unusually inviting circumstances.
[A kindness for Mello, maybe. He knows in his bones that it would have happened again if she hadn't felt bad about it on his account, if L hadn't set a boundary for his sake.]
Don't walk. She cares for you, and that's not easy to find.
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[Snaps a response; Mello knows people, if nothing else. He damn near drains his glass before he speaks again. And the liquor is amplifying the fact that he's here with L, that they're drinking together and speaking. A simple glance into those wide-pupiled eyes is enough to throw Mello off of his game.]
[So he plays his game. Reaching out to wrap delicate fingers around L's glass. Tugs it forward softly.]
You know I've always wanted you.
[Stark. As unfeasible as it is.]
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[His way of deflecting from the rather blatant implication.
He'd leave it there, ordinarily. But he's drunk. He lets go of his glass, abandoning it to Mello's thin fingers.]
Why?
[He's so ugly, after all. He was shocked when Alex turned her luscious mer body into a clear and unmistakable invitation.]
Power? So it's victory, after all.
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You're wrong.
[An internal cringe. He could never imagine saying that to L. All the same, he sips his mentor's drink, sets it down on the bar. This isn't about anything existential. What he wants from L is concrete and — ]
Come to the loo with me, yea.
[He slips forward without warning. Lands a single, light touch of his lips to L's jaw.]
I won't hurt you.
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[The slow stupor of drunkenness delays his reaction. Mello's able to lean in, sip the drink, touch his lips to L's face.
The force of L's full-sized phylax ramming into Mello is a surprise to both of them. No longer a bracelet in motion, she knocks Mello from his barstool, all teeth and mass looming over him and hissing. L's eyes are wide behind her, lips parted and speechless.
Mello's head is between the glowing apex predator's jaws.
Moments later, the orca has vanished. L's hands are a blur of motion resulting in a bitten, bloody wrist. He's scrawled scarlet runes on the bartop and sealed his own soul's manifestation, pale and shaking.]
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[It really was all bad, wasn't it.]
[He's still beneath the assault — L can kill him at any time through any means possible — and yet M's body is calm. Maybe the alcohol. Maybe realization.]
[Even though his eyes are wide and his body stiff; wide, pale eyes regarding what he thought was his mentor.]
[No. No, this is a rival.]
You want me dead? [He breathes through grit teeth.]
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No... never.
[He hurt himself, after all, to seal the phylax temporarily. Other patrons at the bar are giving them a wide berth; the bartender has made eye contact with the bouncers, who seem to be watching and waiting. Brawls here aren't uncommon, a sign that they don't actually throw people out at the first or even second sign of trouble.]
If I did... you would be. You know that, don't you?
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[There's nothing here. Never will be. Even as his shoulders and back twitch from the pain, he reminds himself of one thing.]
[This L isn't his L. They've both grown. Adapted. Mello offered an olive branch and L countered with a fucking butcher knife.]
L.
[As he rights himself. This has quickly become war.]
Stay the fuck away from my girl, yea.
[And to twist the knife harder — ]
You've got Kira. Fuck him all you want. [A breath] Keep your fucking hands off of Alex.
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Alex and I are friends, and barring a plea from her, we'll remain as such.
[His words are steady, even as his hands tremble slightly from the shock of the last few minutes.]
It's on you, if you want to be the tyrant forcing her to make that plea, but keep in mind that real power does not have to insist.
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[That's what Mello hears and knows, and the pain ripping from his head does little to distract.]
Why did your Phylax attack me.
[Low, as he goes for the remnants of his own drink.]
It's you. If it were autonomous it would know that I meant you no harm.
[So, so bitter.]
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[Making it a liability, or a last line of defense. Considering he's a man who doesn't understand or respond appropriately to his own pain and injuries, L's phylax has probably saved him a few times.]
Why did you try to kiss me? You don't profess to like other men that way, and you'd practice the same loyalty you demand from Alex, wouldn't you?
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[Why did Mello crawl into L's lap all of those years ago? Why did he idolize him to where he dug up the older man's grave?]
[Why is Mello more upset regarding the fact that Alex had L as opposed to L having Alex?]
[The liquor is strong. And it's making a fool out of a man.]
I've wanted you since I was fourteen, [is his answer — inappropriate as it might be.]
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You were the first human I slept with. I'm not involved with Light that way, and never have been, and like I said already, my encounter with Alex was wholly unprecedented. I'm actually in love with someone, but it's not mutual.
[His life is a mess, just like his hands. Now he reaches for his whiskey and slams it in one go.]
If you want a fight, I'll give it to you, but I really hate doing that without a purpose.
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[He shifts, signaling the bartender for one more of the same. "Uncomfortable" is an understatement.]
[But Mello is Mello, and so — ]
You've never wanted me?
[Everyone wants him. The thought is ludicrous.]
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You were a child when we knew each other in our world. You might as well have been a stranger when I met you here as an adult, except that you asked me all of the questions an orphan would ask a parent who abandoned them.
[The example is specific enough to hint that really, L would know.]
Would you see someone that vulnerable in an erotic way?
[L thinks it's probably a large part of why Myr can't see him erotically. It's tender and painful to think of it. An aching kind of pleasure, to think that being around him at all is better than not having him in his life at all.]
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[It was never possible to gain all of L. That was a stupid kid's dream.]
[He immediately takes a sip when his next glass is delivered to him. This place is fucking purgatory.]
No, [He answers honestly, focusing on the liquid in his glass.]
What changed when you met me here? We fucked, yea.
[Crass as it sounds coming from his mouth.]
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Tendencies, perhaps, that tied his path to Mello's the last time the younger man was here.]
You were persistent.
[Relentless.]
You believed that I left you once, that I owed you something, and maybe I came to believe that, too.
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