[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.
[Pale brows raise in amusement, though L's response nearly makes Mello sick. Who was he the last time around? It's clear that L not only regrets it, but resents it, and M has no clear response. He doesn't remember a thing.]
You did leave me.
[Trite.]
Left all of us.
{And he's pretending. Mello's never given a shit about anyone but himself.]
Now that I know your situation with Kira, I understand why.
[Did he misspeak? Probably. He's drunk. More so by the minute, as the binge catches up to him.]
I didn't want to die. Then or now. And sometimes, there's no benefit; just a loss with the least amount of damage it's possible to incur. Also, for the record... it was a god.
[He shakes his head. Another drink. Bitter; blurring.]
He couldn't have managed it himself. A god killed Watari, and me... a real god.
[L's expression is withering. Shinigami aren't a monolith; even he knows that, having encountered only one. Besides, the one who killed him was being controlled, herself, wasn't she?
It informs the way he responds, softly.]
Maybe you do. No one is obligated to care about anyone else, after all.
[Silence. He wants more to drink, even though his head aches and spins, and his stomach feels free-falling, sour.]
What do you want, Mello? Permission to not care about me? It's yours.
[Exasperation comes thick through L's voice; it's almost enough to make Mello flinch. He's never grown from being the child who will pester his idol at every given opportunity, has he?]
[And M is very grateful for his risen alcohol tolerance, right now. This conversation will go nowhere if — ]
[Who the fuck is he kidding? This conversation will go nowhere, period.]
I want to be able to speak to you without you looking at me like you're facing down an enemy.
[Friend? The word makes him chuckle. No, he'd never thought about being friends with L. Not as a child and not now — and this is Linden telling him to fuck off. Glazed, but the sentiment is there.]
Mh —
[And so Mello only stares at his glass. He's considering his next move more carefully than anything he's ever planned in his life.]
All right, then.
[It is what it is. He still doesn't look at L directly.]
You'd be a shit friend anyway, yea.
[It's true.]
But if you fuck my girl again, we're enemies.
[The worst kind.]
Do we have an understanding?
[And now, he does look at his idol. Cold, direct.]
[L's silent. He doesn't argue, or profess that he's actually a great friend; he doubts as much. He's failed so many times to come through for those he cares the most about. Even his own phylax was sealed away moments ago, to prevent Mello's face getting ripped off.
There's a part of him that's impressed with Mello audacity, to imply that his demands are in any way something L would care about beyond his pity and his mercy.]
"Your" girl? You own her, then?
[Soft, mild.]
If you're doing your part, for "your girl", I wouldn't think you'd have anything to worry about. My favor to you is not telling her that you asked a strange man to go to the loo with you tonight, OK? But she is my friend, however shitty I may be, and so... well, she outranks you, it seems.
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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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
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.
no subject
You did leave me.
[Trite.]
Left all of us.
{And he's pretending. Mello's never given a shit about anyone but himself.]
Now that I know your situation with Kira, I understand why.
[Sip.]
I didn't, then.
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[He repeats the word flatly.]
Whatever you're implying is informed, doubtless, by more things you don't know.
[No shortage, of such things, he might as well be saying by the dry cut of his tone.]
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I get it.
[Didn't Mello know that his final mission would end in death?]
What I don't understand is how you found it beneficial. We got him, yea. But it fucked us up.
[Pause. Sip.]
Did you think about that
[Hostile, maybe.]
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[Did he misspeak? Probably. He's drunk. More so by the minute, as the binge catches up to him.]
I didn't want to die. Then or now. And sometimes, there's no benefit; just a loss with the least amount of damage it's possible to incur. Also, for the record... it was a god.
[He shakes his head. Another drink. Bitter; blurring.]
He couldn't have managed it himself. A god killed Watari, and me... a real god.
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It's not hard to control a Shinigami. I had my own.
[But that's not what matters.]
I just need to accept that you were like the rest of us back home. That you weren't obligated to care about any of us.
[It's eye-opening, really. And it makes Mello reevaluate their situation.]
Any closeness was the result of personal choices. You were just an example.
no subject
It informs the way he responds, softly.]
Maybe you do. No one is obligated to care about anyone else, after all.
[Silence. He wants more to drink, even though his head aches and spins, and his stomach feels free-falling, sour.]
What do you want, Mello? Permission to not care about me? It's yours.
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[And M is very grateful for his risen alcohol tolerance, right now. This conversation will go nowhere if — ]
[Who the fuck is he kidding? This conversation will go nowhere, period.]
I want to be able to speak to you without you looking at me like you're facing down an enemy.
[For starters.]
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You... want to feel, as though I don't feel.
[He sounds bemused.]
I don't want to be your enemy, and I don't want to think of you that way, but... you know you...
[This is hard to phrase.]
You wanted to dominate me and I let you. If I let you see me as a friend, I don't know what will happen.
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Mh —
[And so Mello only stares at his glass. He's considering his next move more carefully than anything he's ever planned in his life.]
All right, then.
[It is what it is. He still doesn't look at L directly.]
You'd be a shit friend anyway, yea.
[It's true.]
But if you fuck my girl again, we're enemies.
[The worst kind.]
Do we have an understanding?
[And now, he does look at his idol. Cold, direct.]
no subject
There's a part of him that's impressed with Mello audacity, to imply that his demands are in any way something L would care about beyond his pity and his mercy.]
"Your" girl? You own her, then?
[Soft, mild.]
If you're doing your part, for "your girl", I wouldn't think you'd have anything to worry about. My favor to you is not telling her that you asked a strange man to go to the loo with you tonight, OK? But she is my friend, however shitty I may be, and so... well, she outranks you, it seems.