Taking Over

“Matt, I need you to touch me. Matt. Please.”

“Wh-what?!”

“You said you would, right?”

“Well…yeah….but I didn’t think you’d actually need me….”

Mello had pulled him down on top of him. It was awkward. Mello wanting him…like this….like this…because ever since he started that goddamn project…he had no real idea what to do. Hell, he was only fourteen.

Mello didn’t either but he’d grabbed onto him, drug him up, and kissed him anyway. Mello scrambled at him, desperate, sliding his hands under his shirt.

Matt shuddered. Maybe…it will help….or something…

He shoved Mello back on the bed. That seemed to be what he wanted. Someone to control things and let his mind take a backseat for awhile. Other times, Mello was very rough, hard, slammed him into the floor, but still…practically begging.

So…he tried…

What he’d read in books—what was common sense…or instinct…or something…

He went down on one elbow, Mello grabbing into him. He moved his hand—

But no, Mello was grabbing his hand, shoving it down, again with that…angry, desperate, pleading. “Matt…”

He swallowed, staring down…Mello’s hand a tense claw. He could see every bone, nails digging into his own hand.

“O-okay…..”

Mello snatched his hand away, leaving stinging red marks behind. Matt shifted over him a little and hesitated. He slid a hand just under the hem of his shirt, touching the waistband of his pants, undoing the button, downing the zipper. He could feel his face burning, though he wasn’t sure whether it was from embarrassment or just shame or what.

Mello breathed, harsh, as some of the pressure was relieved. “Matt.” This time it was not a plea, but part of a growl, almost an order.

He wasn’t prepared for this situation but Matt did it anyway. Shaking slightly, he moved cloth away, swallowed, and touched him.

Mello hissed.

Matt shot a glance at him, glanced back, took his length into the palm of his hand, feeling the hard flesh, pulsing vein. It was hot, stiff, and already seeping. He cleared his throat, moving his thumb.

Mello made some sort of sound he couldn’t really decipher.

The slick fluid was around his hand; he smoothed his fingers over him, thumbing the head, starting to move up…back down.

He was fourteen. He knew the basics, at least.

Mello groaned.

So Matt moved faster, gripping tighter, watching Mello screw his eyes shut and just seemed to sink away into instinct. He shoved his hands under Matt’s shirt, pulling half of it off and didn’t bother with the other half, just grabbing onto his bare shoulder and yanking him down to kiss him, hungry, greedy.

Matt shook his shirt off his wrist and replaced his hand. The kiss was unexpected. He stared into Mello’s face but kept moving his hand, harder, rougher, slick. He winced when Mello bit him but said nothing. He just leaned on his elbow again.

He jerked when Mello’s hands were suddenly scrambling at his jeans, not hesitating at all to touch him. He curled his hand, nearly into a fist, rubbing hard, fast. Matt had to bite his lip. “M-Mello…don’t, man…hey…”

“Shut up.”

So…he had. He hadn’t seen much of a choice. This was something he hadn’t seen in Mello. A sort of crazed state that he might try to break his arm if he let go.

Of course…the stimulation…his touch….Mello’s own moans…it sent Matt’s blood hot. He was forgetting where he was, who he was…and just whom he was with. He let go of Mello, pulled him up and forced his shirt off, reaching down to grab onto him again. He was still hard.

His friend groaned, not bothering to try and keep quiet, moving hard into Matt’s hand. He rubbed, massaged…did whatever he could…and eventually, Mello took a sharp breath and hot, slick fluid covered Matt’s hand.

Of course, Mello had gotten him riled up but the blond just laid back, tired. He fell asleep…

Matt blinked, awkward. He got up, looking at his hand, grabbed his shirt and went to the bathroom. What the hell just happened? He taken care of his erection himself, too throbbing to ignore, cleaned himself up and went back to his room.

But it hadn’t stopped at that. And it steadily started to get more and more...controlling, sometimes violent....unpredictable...


In an incident that would end up being one of the last, Mello just got up and left his class, went to Matt’s and said he’d needed him for a second. The teacher consented, though Matt had the feeling Mello would have tried to take him by force otherwise. So, Matt had gone with him.

Mello was anxious, he could tell. Pale, palms clammy, breathing stilted. It was like he was having some sort of panic attack. “Come with me.”

Uncertain, Matt went outside with him, into the trees that surrounded the place on three sides. They went in deep and all of a sudden—

“Matt.”

“What?”

Mello had grabbed him and practically struck him, threw him to the ground and pinned him. The look in his eye was terrible. Half-crazed, desperate. But what should I do? Christ, if I tell Roger he might fucking kill himself or something. I don’t know what to do. And I can’t ask L…

But that was pushed aside as Mello pinned his wrists and shoved a hand down his pants, shoving at them, pushing them down.

“Mello!”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” His voice was shaky. Only then did he let go of Matt’s wrists, only to take his cock into his mouth and suck, hard.

“Ah--!” Matt went rigid, eyes jerking open. Mello wanted control of him, and that’s what he got. Helpless to his own body’s reactions, he’d fallen back in the grass, writhing, breathing hard. Mello’s mouth worked over him, tongue probing, teeth just barely grazing him. And then…another curious sensation…below…

His senses were only able to swim so far…feeling…Oh God…no…he can’t be fucking serious….…Mello scissored his fingers, stretching…

Matt felt a jolt of terror. “Mello--!”

But…Mello was gone.

He ignored him, sucking, moving his mouth. Matt screwed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t ignore that, eventually unable to resist, moving with him. He groaned as silently as he could when he came.

He barely had time to recover before Mello just shoved into him. He jerked, a soundless sort of yell. Oh God, it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It hurt…and tears pricked his eyes. He tried to bite back any sound. Mello, blind, frustrated, angry, shoving in and out and barely aware of what he was doing. Not listening at all, frantic. All Matt felt was pain. Mello was breathing hard though and then he went stiff above him, arching.

And then Mello pulled out and fell on him and grabbed into his shirt and apologized over and over and over again. He was mumbling something, almost crying.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Matt, I’m so sorry. Matt. Matt. I’m sorry.

What could Matt do? He hurt…so bad, breathing hard, trying not to cry himself. He put a hand on Mello’s back.

Then he caught a name through Mello’s mumblings and crazed words and frustration.

Near.

Mello was shaking. He got up, stumbling, clumsy hands fixing his clothes, fixing Matt’s clothes. He looked horrible. He staggered away.

Matt lay on the ground for a time afterwards. Hours and hours. He was alone and then he did cry. He cried at the sky for a long, long time. He couldn’t control it. He felt helpless. He didn’t know how to help. He didn’t know whom to turn to. He knew Mello was using him as some sort of outlet and he had agreed to try. He had not expected it to go this far. He…hurt…he could feel hot blood and pain. So many other mixed up feelings and no one to tell him what to do or how to fix things.

Eventually, around midnight, he forced himself to stand. His legs were trembling. All of him trembled. He touched trees, finally made his way back to his room and collapsed on his bed. What do I do? What do I fucking do? He felt helpless. There was no worse feeling then helplessness.

There was only one thing to do.

Go to Near. Find out what the fuck had happened.

His dreams were filled with nightmares. When he woke at three in the morning, he couldn’t sleep. He got up, dismissing the lights out rule completely, showered, trying to ignore pain and then went to Near’s room. He didn’t knock. He opened the door. Quietly.

The pale-haired boy was asleep.

He swallowed. “Near…?”

He stirred.

“Near. Near, wake up.”

He did, opening those dark eyes and sat up, blinking. “Matt. What are you doing here?”

Matt just went and sat down on the edge of his bed and looked at him. “What happened?”

He couldn’t read Near, of course—and it wasn’t because it was too dark. It was because Near had the self control he would never have. It was like looking at cardboard sometimes. “In what incident is Matt referring?”

Matt’s shoulders slumped and his look was almost desperate. “To Mello. What the hell happened between you and Mello? He’s gone…practically batshit…”

“Mello has always been excitable.”

“Goddammit, Near!” Matt was shaking again. “This started after you did that project on poisons. What happened?”

Near did not speak for a moment. “We disagreed.”

Matt laughed, hopeless and bitter. “No shit? You think? You can’t have missed it. He’s changed.”

Near looked away. “I am aware.”

“Then what the hell?”

The other was solemn and silent for a moment. “Mello is obsessed with control. He is possessive.”

Matt stopped cold…part of him had suspected it; part of him blew it off as impossible. “With you?”

“It would appear so.”

Matt tried to look over and meet his eyes. “Can’t you do anything?”

“What would Matt like me to do?”

“Anything? Maybe? He’s dangerous to people around him and he’s dangerous to himself…”

“You ought to inform Roger.”

“Oh yeah? I ought to inform Roger. Easier said then done. At this point, I’m not sure if he’d kill me or not. I’m serious, Near.”

“Then L.”

“Oh, hell no. Why don’t you tell them what really happened between you two? You’re the one who worked with him.”

“I cannot do that. Mello is dangerous.”

Matt gave him an incredulous look. “Well, glad you caught on. Jesus Christ.”

Finally, Near looked at him. “I take it he has gone to you?”

Matt swallowed hard and said nothing.

“That’s as good as a ‘yes’. Did you agree to it?”

“Near. Please, man.”

“You did then.”

Matt was glad it was dark. “Yeah…but…but I didn’t realize the extent…”

“There is nothing I can do if you agreed.”

“You son of a—goddammit, Near! You…you wouldn’t do anything either way, would you?”

“Mello’s actions are his own choices…”

“And what if his obsession and possession ends up getting somebody—fuck, ends up getting you killed? He’s getting a little unstable, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Near looked out the window. “Then he will destroy us both.”

Matt stared at him. “You’ve already prepared yourself for that outcome.”

“Yes.”

“But you can prevent it!”

“No. Do you really think I could with someone like Mello?”

Matt looked down. No. Probably not.

Near kept looking out the window, interpreting that silence. “Exactly.”

And so Matt had left him. He went back to his room and lay on his bed. Mello needs…help. Fucking something. But…but…

Near had been no help. At all. What if he really does…kill him…?

That left him on his own. Confused and alone, to deal with Mello—unhinged, controlling one day, giving himself up the next, possessive, frustrated, angry…but he was Mello’s friend…shouldn’t he…be trying….? Or….or something…..for his sake….?

Their rivalry continued on. Neither Near or Mello would ever back down.


And then that horrible, horrible day had finally come….

A slashed, mangled throat…all the blood, ground up shards…

And jagged rips up his arms, glass in his chest….mashed…

And Matt jerked awake. He stared at the clock. How ironic. It was three in the morning. He sat up, blinked, and wiped his eyes.

He’d never be able to sleep now. He knew that dream, and the next part—when their eyes would open….and then…

Most of the time he could look at that photograph and that little Lego piece and kinda smile a little—missing them both….and then other times…he hated them. He hated the memories of them. But throwing away a Lego and burning a picture wouldn’t take those away. It wouldn’t remove the dreams either. And I would regret it anyway.

He got up and took a shower. He sat on the tile, naked, letting the hot water cascade over him for a long, long time, his forehead on his knees. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there until he got up again. I’m gonna have to start in with something stronger then cigarettes. He didn’t even bother with the clock.

He got dressed and opened a drawer. He had a Berretta and two SIG Saucers (if they were going to work to be the next L, they’d have to know how to defend themselves, after all). He took all three of them, strapping them on. He put on a long coat, grabbed his cigarettes, put his portable in one of the coat pockets. He pulled his glasses on and tucked his wallet away.

For a very long moment, he just looked around the room. Then he grabbed the bug and went downstairs. He planted the device under the desktops, connecting it with one of his phones. He would be able to activate it whenever he wanted.

Then he left for the street. It was time to get into the underground of New York.

He’d need at least two.

In the shinigami realm, a poor, hapless shinigami called Shidoh had just been informed that Ryuuk had taken his notebook.