Hurried fanfic
Aug. 7th, 2008 07:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tallulahgs[Title] Playing Truant
[Fandom] Death Note
[Characters/Pairings] Matt, Mello
[Warnings] Spoilers for Matt's real name
[Word Count] 1127
[Notes/Summary] Matt wanders round Winchester High Street. Written for and crossposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dn_contest, prompt "shopping".
Wammy's House is different from all the other foster homes.
Okay, there's still kids crying, but it's kids, not babies, and they're always crying over something completely weird, like he finished the puzzle before me or she rearranged my pens without asking or they won't even say, they just scream. And there's still scribbles on the walls but not curse words and C loves R 4 eva, it's freaky drawings like nightmare cartoons or maths stuff or sentences that almost make sense but not quite. And the adults act like teachers, like they figure you're gonna be here for a really long time and they want you to be smart.
Matt figures this means once you've got here it's the end of the line and fostering's out of the question.
Like he didn't know that anyway.
He also figures it's stupid to complain about a name change, Matt is a far more normal name anyway (more normal than any of the kids he's stuck with). But he can't help feeling kind of cross about it, like you do when you don't get something you were promised even if you didn't really want it.
And so, and so. And so he's gone outside, 'cause he figures Matt the so-called genius is the one who spends all his time in his room and Mail the regular kid is the one who's hanging round Winchester High Street with his hands in his pocket and holes in his sweater (but his Gameboy's tucked into his belt, 'cause he never goes anywhere without it).
There are lots of things he could be doing. He could be reading comics in WH Smiths or he could be trying to nick sweets from Tesco's or he could be kicking pinecones into the road and watching the cars squish 'em or he could be... well, lots of stuff, but he isn't, he's just standing in the middle of the pavement, being dodged round by irritated shoppers, every so often getting distracted by a crisp packet whirling past his feet, and wishing the sky wasn't yawning above him so widely.
He could give up and sit down on a bench or go lean against the base of the statue at the top of the street (Mail doesn't know who it is 'cause it's lame anyway, Matt remembers it's Alfred the Great) and play on Mario, but then he may as well go back to the orphanage. And he's risking having someone snatch the Gameboy out of his hands like he's a stupid little kid.
But he doesn't want to do anything else -
It's then that he sees the other Wammy's House kid. He's spotted - him? Her? - whatever, he's seen them before, running about playing football in the grounds. Skinny, wearing black, with blonde hair cut into a bob. Not one of the ones who writes on the walls.
The kid is standing outside Thornton's, staring in at the chocolate arranged in the window. Now Matt thinks about it, she, or he's, been there for ages.
It's that which makes him go over. Not 'cause it's another Wammy's kid. Just 'cause maybe he, or she, is out here for the same reasons he is.
"Are you gonna buy any?"
The kid jumps, whirls round, already moving like they're gonna punch out. "Who the hell are you?"
"You're from Wammy's House, right?"
The pale, bony face relaxes, but only for a moment. "So what if I am? Didn't ask you."
"I got there a few days ago."
"And you wanna be friends?"
"Not really. Just wondered why you were out here."
"None of your business." The kid looks at him, at the holes in his sleeves. "Why are you out here?"
"Dunno. Felt like a walk. Or like going shopping."
"Yeah. Sure."
Matt figures he should walk away, but kids with a bad attitude are something he knows, he's seen enough of them. So he shrugs, and says, "You trying to get the guts to pinch something?" Mail would definitely have said that. He doesn't know whether Matt would.
The kid blinks, and looks at him properly.
"What's your name, anyway?" he asks. (Probably a he. Not that Mail hasn't known some really mean girls. But the girls at Wammy's don't seem to be like that, so Matt should probably forget about it.)
Matt nearly says the wrong answer just to prove something, and the breeze flicks his hair and pinches his bare elbows, but - "Matt."
"I'm Mello."
"Like... marshmellow?"
"No." Mello fixes him with a stare that says I will break your fingers if you make another joke like that. "'Sides, it's marshmallow. Dunno why you're at Wammy's if you don't know something as easy as that."
"It was a mistake," Matt says, and grins. "I figure they'll work out I'm thick sooner or later."
Mello doesn't grin back. "If you're stupid, you better stay out of my way."
"And if I'm not?"
Mello considers, then shrugs. "Stay out of my way anyway. I'm the smartest kid there, all right? Don't even bother trying to pretend you're better than me."
Yeah, Matt and Mail have both known kids like this. Neither of them like picking fights for the hell of it (though Matt kind of wants to). So - "Okay. I'm not."
Mello actually looks surprised for a moment there. Then he yanks the expression off his face and fumbles into a more nothing-impresses-me one. "You got any money?"
"No."
"Then... yeah, I'm gonna pinch some of it."
Mail never made friends with anyone at the other children's homes. Why would he have done? You'd all be moving on soon enough. And he specially wouldn't make friends with the kids who look like they really would break your fingers (later, he'll wonder why Mello-who-could-really-almost-be-a-girl can scare him like this, but right now he just accepts it).
But Matt's stuck here, right? And Mail's not gonna hang out with the real geniuses. Surely anyone who has to say they're the best probably isn't. Surely.
"Okay," he says. "I'll watch."
And he follows Mello inside.
Internet is unreliable and this stresses me out. But I will remain resilient.
[Fandom] Death Note
[Characters/Pairings] Matt, Mello
[Warnings] Spoilers for Matt's real name
[Word Count] 1127
[Notes/Summary] Matt wanders round Winchester High Street. Written for and crossposted to
dn_contest, prompt "shopping".Wammy's House is different from all the other foster homes.
Okay, there's still kids crying, but it's kids, not babies, and they're always crying over something completely weird, like he finished the puzzle before me or she rearranged my pens without asking or they won't even say, they just scream. And there's still scribbles on the walls but not curse words and C loves R 4 eva, it's freaky drawings like nightmare cartoons or maths stuff or sentences that almost make sense but not quite. And the adults act like teachers, like they figure you're gonna be here for a really long time and they want you to be smart.
Matt figures this means once you've got here it's the end of the line and fostering's out of the question.
Like he didn't know that anyway.
He also figures it's stupid to complain about a name change, Matt is a far more normal name anyway (more normal than any of the kids he's stuck with). But he can't help feeling kind of cross about it, like you do when you don't get something you were promised even if you didn't really want it.
And so, and so. And so he's gone outside, 'cause he figures Matt the so-called genius is the one who spends all his time in his room and Mail the regular kid is the one who's hanging round Winchester High Street with his hands in his pocket and holes in his sweater (but his Gameboy's tucked into his belt, 'cause he never goes anywhere without it).
There are lots of things he could be doing. He could be reading comics in WH Smiths or he could be trying to nick sweets from Tesco's or he could be kicking pinecones into the road and watching the cars squish 'em or he could be... well, lots of stuff, but he isn't, he's just standing in the middle of the pavement, being dodged round by irritated shoppers, every so often getting distracted by a crisp packet whirling past his feet, and wishing the sky wasn't yawning above him so widely.
He could give up and sit down on a bench or go lean against the base of the statue at the top of the street (Mail doesn't know who it is 'cause it's lame anyway, Matt remembers it's Alfred the Great) and play on Mario, but then he may as well go back to the orphanage. And he's risking having someone snatch the Gameboy out of his hands like he's a stupid little kid.
But he doesn't want to do anything else -
It's then that he sees the other Wammy's House kid. He's spotted - him? Her? - whatever, he's seen them before, running about playing football in the grounds. Skinny, wearing black, with blonde hair cut into a bob. Not one of the ones who writes on the walls.
The kid is standing outside Thornton's, staring in at the chocolate arranged in the window. Now Matt thinks about it, she, or he's, been there for ages.
It's that which makes him go over. Not 'cause it's another Wammy's kid. Just 'cause maybe he, or she, is out here for the same reasons he is.
"Are you gonna buy any?"
The kid jumps, whirls round, already moving like they're gonna punch out. "Who the hell are you?"
"You're from Wammy's House, right?"
The pale, bony face relaxes, but only for a moment. "So what if I am? Didn't ask you."
"I got there a few days ago."
"And you wanna be friends?"
"Not really. Just wondered why you were out here."
"None of your business." The kid looks at him, at the holes in his sleeves. "Why are you out here?"
"Dunno. Felt like a walk. Or like going shopping."
"Yeah. Sure."
Matt figures he should walk away, but kids with a bad attitude are something he knows, he's seen enough of them. So he shrugs, and says, "You trying to get the guts to pinch something?" Mail would definitely have said that. He doesn't know whether Matt would.
The kid blinks, and looks at him properly.
"What's your name, anyway?" he asks. (Probably a he. Not that Mail hasn't known some really mean girls. But the girls at Wammy's don't seem to be like that, so Matt should probably forget about it.)
Matt nearly says the wrong answer just to prove something, and the breeze flicks his hair and pinches his bare elbows, but - "Matt."
"I'm Mello."
"Like... marshmellow?"
"No." Mello fixes him with a stare that says I will break your fingers if you make another joke like that. "'Sides, it's marshmallow. Dunno why you're at Wammy's if you don't know something as easy as that."
"It was a mistake," Matt says, and grins. "I figure they'll work out I'm thick sooner or later."
Mello doesn't grin back. "If you're stupid, you better stay out of my way."
"And if I'm not?"
Mello considers, then shrugs. "Stay out of my way anyway. I'm the smartest kid there, all right? Don't even bother trying to pretend you're better than me."
Yeah, Matt and Mail have both known kids like this. Neither of them like picking fights for the hell of it (though Matt kind of wants to). So - "Okay. I'm not."
Mello actually looks surprised for a moment there. Then he yanks the expression off his face and fumbles into a more nothing-impresses-me one. "You got any money?"
"No."
"Then... yeah, I'm gonna pinch some of it."
Mail never made friends with anyone at the other children's homes. Why would he have done? You'd all be moving on soon enough. And he specially wouldn't make friends with the kids who look like they really would break your fingers (later, he'll wonder why Mello-who-could-really-almost-be-a-girl can scare him like this, but right now he just accepts it).
But Matt's stuck here, right? And Mail's not gonna hang out with the real geniuses. Surely anyone who has to say they're the best probably isn't. Surely.
"Okay," he says. "I'll watch."
And he follows Mello inside.
Internet is unreliable and this stresses me out. But I will remain resilient.
