promise to get well soon.

[reprism]

[as it frequently happens, Light was aiming for the kitchen, and got a totally different room instead.

this one isn't an unfamiliar one, though. oh, no.when the door shuts behind him and he sees the chairs and refreshments-booth, he makes to groan and turn on his heel to leave. but, of course, it's not as simple as that. instead he finds

Comments

[cra_n_ky]

Nate strides in soon after Light. He's changed into casual clothes - yellow t-shirt, black jeans, and a pair of color-coordinated Air Jordans.

Upon reaching the center of the room, he straightens his back, puts on a shit-eating grin, and says,

"Hello pals, I'm Dr. Nathan River. I hate myself, but I don't mind because I hate everyone else more!"

Waitwhat.

[reprism]

... that's... nice.

[blinking at the newcomer.]

Therapy room. When you enter you have to talk about at least one of your capital-I Issues, support-group style. You're a doctor, huh.

[cra_n_ky]

"Fuck you, Yagami." Nate speaks as if he's just tasted something extremely sour.

[reprism]

I don't do doctors, sorry. Tried it once... never again.

[reprism]

...

Oh, Mihael.

[reprism]

Deep-seated childhood issue which was only compounded by--

[he bites down on his lip.]

Oh fuck this place.

[curtainwizard]

[Light is developing a faint drift, and a habit of asking himself every few minutes "am I dreaming?". He still notices when the room he's walked into isn't the library, though.]

Hello. My name's Light, and subconsciously, I think everyone else is better than me. I don't admit this to myself, of course, and compensate for it with an epic-scale superiority complex which leads to chronic overachieving and narcissism. Also, I never felt I could rely on my parents, and I view other people as objects because I can't relate to them, and never have. Also, I mask most of what I feel with anger, hatred or general negativity. Oh, finally, I compensate for killing tens of thousands of people with a God complex. That is all, for now.

[He actually gets into the chair before his face drops, in visible shock at what he just said. It's made over the next second, of course, and it's possible he doesn't even remember all of it, quite.

Polite, facile, he smiles around at the other people in the room. You didn't hear that, right?]

1/?

[reprism]

2/?

[reprism]

3/3

[reprism]

That's nice, dearie.

[reprism]

... um.

Okay.

[reprism]

[for a few seconds, he's dead silent. then he grins.] What?! Of course not! Who'd eat a small child accidentally? Those things need to be carefully prepared first for maximum deliciousness.

[yourfinaldeeds]

-Mello was aiming for the kitchen, too. Fucking mansion.-

Hey, I'm Mello. I have more identity crises going on right now than I can count. I'm still traumatized by dying, and I'm a walking ball of self-loathing, and I think I'm entirely too fucked up to ever love anyone really. Also, I've been using the horror film room as a coping technique for all of this general fucked-up-feelingness because pain and death feels comfortable and somehow normal and anyway, I told Near I wouldn't drink anymore.

-He blinks, and grimaces, and sinks down into one of the chairs, face in his hands.-

Well, shit.

[yourfinaldeeds]

-Mello scowls at Mihael, even less pleased at the fact he's in the room and heard all that.-

And you bring out the rampaging homophobe in me, but that's not exactly a secret.