Why is he holding a gun? Why, why, whywhywhywhy? A gives a stifling yelp and hits the wall behind him before he even realized that he was backing up. B smiles and moves closer. "You little whore. I heard about Light. I heard all about your little adventure in that room. Why, A? Why do you have to do things like that?" A inhaled sharply and shook his head, about to explain... something, when B spoke again. "And Near. I know what's going on with him. Why you're always around him. Little whore."
"N-no, I--"
"But, you see, A..." B continues, ignoring A's small protests. "...you see, you're mine. You'll always be mine. And I like you. So... I'm going to be nice about this." A swallows hard and shakes his head, backing up again. His heart was pounding so hard, he was afraid that it was going to burst out of his chest. He chuckles. "Suicide. You committed suicide in my world, A. Tried to in your world. You're finally going to get the chance to do it right. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Before A can blink, B is on him, steely fingers grasping at his wrist, and forcing the hand with the gun in it upward, until A could feel the cool metal against his chin. "If you move one fucking inch, I'll make it worse." So, when B pulls away, A stays there. The pistol is loaded, cocked. Tears begin to stream down his face. He didn't understand what was going on--what was happening. Why, gods, why was this happening?
B moves back towards him, leaning in close so that his mouth waas gently drifting across A's ear as he spoke. "It's easy, A. Pull it. Pull the trigger. If you don't, I'll carve you up, and then I'll carve Light up and then I'll carve Near up and it'll be all your fault. So do it. Pull the trigger. That way, I can just tell them it was suicide. That you'd finally had enough of their shit... that's what I'm going to say, isn't it? That you just offed yourself. Because, you did. You are. You will. Do it." A swallows hard, shaking his head, no no no no, why? This couldn't be happening... This couldn't!
"Blow your stupid little brains out. I want to know if the .45 is powerful enough to go through your skull and the wall behind you, or if it'll just get lodged somewhere. Do it."
A felt the edge of the knife blade lingering on his stomach as B shifts away to watch him. He was beyond speaking, beyond pleading, tears streaming down his face, but he couldn't stop it.
He'd always been suicidal, after all.
The gun shakes in his hand, his breath his shaking, his heart is pounding, and his eyes are closed. Finally, his finger moves, tightening a fraction of an inch, and B grins that awful grin.
*Near can't move, but he can hear this happening. The power to observe other people's deaths, right? It's a lot worse than it sounds.
When he finally can climb to his feet, the first thing he does is feels around to make sure his brains are in place. The second thing he does is scrambles over to where he heard the gunshot come from.*
A can't see anything, can't focus on anything. Flashes of other people sail across his vision. Is this what it's like to be dead? Somewhere, far in the distance, he can see Mikami falling. A bit closer, he can witness the blood spatter against the pavement as Near falls. His heart breaks all over again--what is this? What's going on? It seems like forever.
Forever. An eternity. Is this what death was like?
A small, scared voice calling his name. A familiar voice. A voice that's supposed to be dead. He can't move, and when he opens his eyes, the white burns the retinas and he snaps them shut again, curling up on the ground as he shakes. Finally, he speaks in a small, scared voice.
Can't function. Can't breathe. He's dead, right? He died. He just died. Death. He just died. Death.
Or... maybe not. He can feel the coldness of the room floor. Can hear the sound of Near's voice. Didn't Near just die? He was confused. Confused and hurt and scared, and oh gods, B just killed him. His eyes slowly open, sifting his head up to see the other boy. Slowly, he moves into a seated position, shaking too much to actually stand up.
N-Near... God. Near, oh my god... He killed--I... I killed... he--I... died, but... I killed--he did... I--I...
The word is familiar, but it takes him a moment to grasp the concept. Tea. Hot water and a bag of herbs. Kitchen. He feels the touch against his leg and tries not to flinch, but he can't help it, finally nodding in a shaky manner. Tea.
Tea--yes... tea is good, umm... I think I can do tea right now. I just--tea. Right.
A shakily starts to stand, using the nearby wall as support. He isn't sure what's going to happen now.
We--out of here. Let's get out of... of this r-room.
He looks over towards Near, still hesitant of what had just happened. He wasn't quite sure what to say, think, or do now, didn't know... He couldn't know, could he?
He left the room without another word, eyes still wide with a shock over what had just happened as he slowly brought fingers up to touch the area of his chin where the bullet had gone through. He still isn't too steady on his feet, but he's trying, heart thumping erradically as he looked around himself, as if B was going to jump out of the woodwork and kill him. There wasn't any way he could justify this, not anymore...
I--I don't... I don't know.
That's all he can say for a moment, before turning to Near with a small sound.
A nods suddenly at the odd tone of voice, moving into the kitchen. Was... was Near still mad? He finally remembered the last time that he'd seen the other, the abrupt way that he ended the conversation as soon as B was mentioned. Of course he was mad, who wouldn't be? When the very person he'd been warning A about turned out to be his killer?
Oh... Right. I--I can get it, I... I mean, if you want to... to sit down or something, I...
He moves over to sit at the table, picking at the hem of his pants. A can't help but to hope that the room was utterly false--that it was just the mansion playing with him again, that B would never do that. He wanted to believe that, wanted to with all of his heart, but... he just couldn't, not after that incident with the L, not after he'd just vanished for almost a week and a half. No. He knew that it had to be true. That B really was going to kill him, or at least, intended to. What more could he do?
I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. He mumbles out the words a few more times, because Near was right and now Near was angry, and he didn't know what to do. All he can do is apologize, because he's such an idiot, such a failure, that he couldn't even tell the difference between friend and foe.
I--um.. I don't think it's overstepping. All things considered, I guess. If--if you think that's what's best... I mean... I really don't want to intrude...
He gives a sad smile, because it's better than just breaking down into tears all over the last person he ever wanted to cry on. He grasps lightly at Near's hand and tries to calm himself, because he's out of the room and he's not dead. But the outcome of that was worse, so much worse than he could have feared. It was only a matter of time before he completely broke down, but he tried to hold it off, if for no other reason than to futiley try to reassure Near.
"N-no, I--"
"But, you see, A..." B continues, ignoring A's small protests. "...you see, you're mine. You'll always be mine. And I like you. So... I'm going to be nice about this." A swallows hard and shakes his head, backing up again. His heart was pounding so hard, he was afraid that it was going to burst out of his chest. He chuckles. "Suicide. You committed suicide in my world, A. Tried to in your world. You're finally going to get the chance to do it right. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"
Before A can blink, B is on him, steely fingers grasping at his wrist, and forcing the hand with the gun in it upward, until A could feel the cool metal against his chin. "If you move one fucking inch, I'll make it worse." So, when B pulls away, A stays there. The pistol is loaded, cocked. Tears begin to stream down his face. He didn't understand what was going on--what was happening. Why, gods, why was this happening?
B moves back towards him, leaning in close so that his mouth waas gently drifting across A's ear as he spoke. "It's easy, A. Pull it. Pull the trigger. If you don't, I'll carve you up, and then I'll carve Light up and then I'll carve Near up and it'll be all your fault. So do it. Pull the trigger. That way, I can just tell them it was suicide. That you'd finally had enough of their shit... that's what I'm going to say, isn't it? That you just offed yourself. Because, you did. You are. You will. Do it." A swallows hard, shaking his head, no no no no, why? This couldn't be happening... This couldn't!
"Blow your stupid little brains out. I want to know if the .45 is powerful enough to go through your skull and the wall behind you, or if it'll just get lodged somewhere. Do it."
A felt the edge of the knife blade lingering on his stomach as B shifts away to watch him. He was beyond speaking, beyond pleading, tears streaming down his face, but he couldn't stop it.
He'd always been suicidal, after all.
The gun shakes in his hand, his breath his shaking, his heart is pounding, and his eyes are closed. Finally, his finger moves, tightening a fraction of an inch, and B grins that awful grin.
Bang.
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When he finally can climb to his feet, the first thing he does is feels around to make sure his brains are in place. The second thing he does is scrambles over to where he heard the gunshot come from.*
A? A!
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Forever. An eternity. Is this what death was like?
A small, scared voice calling his name. A familiar voice. A voice that's supposed to be dead. He can't move, and when he opens his eyes, the white burns the retinas and he snaps them shut again, curling up on the ground as he shakes. Finally, he speaks in a small, scared voice.
N--n.... N-Near?
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Or... maybe not. He can feel the coldness of the room floor. Can hear the sound of Near's voice. Didn't Near just die? He was confused. Confused and hurt and scared, and oh gods, B just killed him. His eyes slowly open, sifting his head up to see the other boy. Slowly, he moves into a seated position, shaking too much to actually stand up.
N-Near... God. Near, oh my god... He killed--I... I killed... he--I... died, but... I killed--he did... I--I...
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*He knows they were lovers. He doesn't want it to be true.*
Lets go find some tea.
*That's what they do when they're upset, isn't it? Near pats A's leg, awkwardly.*
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The word is familiar, but it takes him a moment to grasp the concept. Tea. Hot water and a bag of herbs. Kitchen. He feels the touch against his leg and tries not to flinch, but he can't help it, finally nodding in a shaky manner. Tea.
Tea--yes... tea is good, umm... I think I can do tea right now. I just--tea. Right.
A shakily starts to stand, using the nearby wall as support. He isn't sure what's going to happen now.
We--out of here. Let's get out of... of this r-room.
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*Clambering to his feet after A, and hovering nervously. His death was painful, but nothing compared to A's.*
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He left the room without another word, eyes still wide with a shock over what had just happened as he slowly brought fingers up to touch the area of his chin where the bullet had gone through. He still isn't too steady on his feet, but he's trying, heart thumping erradically as he looked around himself, as if B was going to jump out of the woodwork and kill him. There wasn't any way he could justify this, not anymore...
I--I don't... I don't know.
That's all he can say for a moment, before turning to Near with a small sound.
B-but you--I... I saw you. You... y-you died...
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Tea.
*Commanding.*
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Oh... Right. I--I can get it, I... I mean, if you want to... to sit down or something, I...
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Sit, I'll get it. Jasmine, yes?
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He moves over to sit at the table, picking at the hem of his pants. A can't help but to hope that the room was utterly false--that it was just the mansion playing with him again, that B would never do that. He wanted to believe that, wanted to with all of his heart, but... he just couldn't, not after that incident with the L, not after he'd just vanished for almost a week and a half. No. He knew that it had to be true. That B really was going to kill him, or at least, intended to. What more could he do?
I--I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm sorry. He mumbles out the words a few more times, because Near was right and now Near was angry, and he didn't know what to do. All he can do is apologize, because he's such an idiot, such a failure, that he couldn't even tell the difference between friend and foe.
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Are you going to be alright? *Nothing but soft, nervous concern.*
I think... I don't want to interfere. I know I have no right to. It's not really any of my business and my bias is probably colouring my opinion.
But I think you should come stay with us tonight. Is that overstepping my bounds to say?
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He gives a sad smile, because it's better than just breaking down into tears all over the last person he ever wanted to cry on. He grasps lightly at Near's hand and tries to calm himself, because he's out of the room and he's not dead. But the outcome of that was worse, so much worse than he could have feared. It was only a matter of time before he completely broke down, but he tried to hold it off, if for no other reason than to futiley try to reassure Near.
I... I think I'll be okay. Maybe. I--I mean.
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But I don't want to base your actions off that assumption, and lose you because of it.
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