Death Note fanfic
Sep. 18th, 2008 07:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tallulahgs[Title] The End, And After
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG for language and violence
[Pairings/Characters] Matsuda; mention of Raito
[Warnings] Written in second-person. Spoilers for the end of the series
[Word Count] 527
Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
dn_contest, prompt "silence".
You keep hearing the gunshots.
While you're on the subway, the rattle of the train on the rails is almost enough to drown it out; when you're walking down the street there is the moan of traffic and the pounding of sudden music and the shrieking and chattering and shouting of all the people who don't know Kira's dead yet. But once you reach the apartment block there's only silence. Silence and the tap of your feet on the stairs and you find yourself feeling sicker and sicker as you climb. As if he'll be waiting for you once you open your front door. Blood-soaked and screaming, or perhaps not screaming, perhaps laughing like he did when he confessed, or perhaps not that, perhaps something else, and you wouldn't be able to predict what because you know now that you never really knew him at all.
You reach the door and you fumble for your keys and you nearly drop them because your hands are shaking so much. You've dropped your keys before or tripped as you stumbled over the threshold or missed the lock altogether but that's always been because you were drunk or because you were talking - on your phone or in person - or because you just weren't thinking. Now you're thinking.
You don't think all the people who yelled at you to do it more meant you to do it like this.
Inside the sunset is bleeding across the walls. You stand and look at it, and you realise why you're scared. It's nothing to do with something as stupid and obvious as fearing he's come back. It's because now you have to sit in this empty flat and pretend everything is normal and you don't know how to and it's still too quiet and you keep hearing the gunshots.
You don't know how many you fired. You weren't exactly in the mood to count. But you know you didn't just fire blindly. You know you kept one or two back because you know you were going to kill him. You know you only shouted out that you were going to because you, you wanted everyone to be clear about it? No, not even something that stupid. You wanted him to know. You wanted him to be scared. You wanted him to know how fucking furious you were that he'd lied to you, as if that was the worst of all the things he must have done.
You know that you killed him. It doesn't matter that his heart stopped instead. You wanted to kill him and he died because you destroyed all his other options.
You don't know what to do except listen.
You want to be able to hear him. Hear him screaming or laughing or even just talking, explaining whatever made him do it. If you heard him, perhaps, perhaps you could apologise. But you don't hear him. All you hear is the silence, and the gunshots.
[Fandom] Death Note
[Rating] PG for language and violence
[Pairings/Characters] Matsuda; mention of Raito
[Warnings] Written in second-person. Spoilers for the end of the series
[Word Count] 527
Written for
dn_contest, prompt "silence".You keep hearing the gunshots.
While you're on the subway, the rattle of the train on the rails is almost enough to drown it out; when you're walking down the street there is the moan of traffic and the pounding of sudden music and the shrieking and chattering and shouting of all the people who don't know Kira's dead yet. But once you reach the apartment block there's only silence. Silence and the tap of your feet on the stairs and you find yourself feeling sicker and sicker as you climb. As if he'll be waiting for you once you open your front door. Blood-soaked and screaming, or perhaps not screaming, perhaps laughing like he did when he confessed, or perhaps not that, perhaps something else, and you wouldn't be able to predict what because you know now that you never really knew him at all.
You reach the door and you fumble for your keys and you nearly drop them because your hands are shaking so much. You've dropped your keys before or tripped as you stumbled over the threshold or missed the lock altogether but that's always been because you were drunk or because you were talking - on your phone or in person - or because you just weren't thinking. Now you're thinking.
You don't think all the people who yelled at you to do it more meant you to do it like this.
Inside the sunset is bleeding across the walls. You stand and look at it, and you realise why you're scared. It's nothing to do with something as stupid and obvious as fearing he's come back. It's because now you have to sit in this empty flat and pretend everything is normal and you don't know how to and it's still too quiet and you keep hearing the gunshots.
You don't know how many you fired. You weren't exactly in the mood to count. But you know you didn't just fire blindly. You know you kept one or two back because you know you were going to kill him. You know you only shouted out that you were going to because you, you wanted everyone to be clear about it? No, not even something that stupid. You wanted him to know. You wanted him to be scared. You wanted him to know how fucking furious you were that he'd lied to you, as if that was the worst of all the things he must have done.
You know that you killed him. It doesn't matter that his heart stopped instead. You wanted to kill him and he died because you destroyed all his other options.
You don't know what to do except listen.
You want to be able to hear him. Hear him screaming or laughing or even just talking, explaining whatever made him do it. If you heard him, perhaps, perhaps you could apologise. But you don't hear him. All you hear is the silence, and the gunshots.
