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tallulahgs[Title] Broken Hallelujahs
[Rating] PG-13 (slightly above that language-wise)
[Fandom] Death Note
[Story Summary] AU. Neither Raito nor Near's victory went as planned. Now the task force and the SPK are on the run with Kira's notebook and all the power of the new world against them.
In Chapter 3, people manage to form bonds with each other, despite the grave situation they're in. Of course, these bonds are based on half-truths, outright lies, or just fear at the threat of impending death, but that's par for the course by now...
Also, shortest chapter to date. Go me :p
(AN: this chapter features hints of a het pairing to come, and actual slash pairing (nothing particularly explicit, though). Just for your information!)
Gevanni has kept an eye on the dashboard clock for the last two hours, and he's become horribly aware of how much the numbers have started to blur. There's that, and there's the way he can feel his eyes moving in their sockets whenever he glances down. Not to mention how the shadows on the road keep lying flat or turning white if he doesn't blink. And the top of his spine and his arms and his ankles ache, but he tuned that out a while back. Okay, he's seriously going to have to stop and sleep before he kills them both.
Mikami's been quiet since their last conversation; staring blankly out, or scratching absently at the dressings on his throat. (Going to have to take care of that, too.)
"Right -" Gevanni hears his voice dry and stale as the air in here - "I'm going to have to take a break."
Mikami looks round at him. "Where are we going to go?"
"We can pull off at the next service station. I can get some coffee at least."
Mikami frowns. "You've been driving for over twelve hours now."
"Yeah, I know."
"It isn't safe."
"Well, I don't know what else to do. I don't think it's safe for us to check in anywhere, either." He pulls off the freeway, eases the car into the service station. It's bathed in cold sunlight; for a moment that's all he can see, and he blinks, hard.
"Why not?"
"They'll be looking out for you, and I'm not Japanese. They'll ask questions." He feels slowed-down, as if he's only on a time-delay from the US. Leaning forward, he rests his head on the steering wheel, and exhaustion crawls up his body, horribly quickly. Shit, he is this close to falling asleep.
"Then you should sleep in the car," Mikami says, calmly, sounding like the most reasonable travelling companion alive apart from the hoarseness of his voice. "You are not safe to drive, Gevanni-san."
Gevanni doesn't exactly want to say yes, but that still means you could disappear while I'm napping. It goes against the atmosphere of trust he's making a stab at creating. In the end he says, "What, and let you drive?"
"I can't drive." Mikami glances away, down at his feet, at his still neatly-polished shoes. "Surely you already know that."
"I - I know I never saw you, but you live in a city, I guess I -" He massages his forehead, glad that at least it's cold enough that his fingers are cool. "Sorry. How come?"
"I have never needed to," Mikami says, in a tone that doesn't invite further questioning. "We can park somewhere secluded and you can sleep for a short while. I'll wait."
Gevanni doesn't like this and every instinct is yelling at him that it's dangerous, but he suspects that at least a few of those instincts are being powered by lack of sleep, and it isn't like a chance to rest is likely to turn up if he waits long enough. In the end he nods, and carries on to the parking lot, managing to duck into a space that's a reasonable distance from any other vehicles.
"Just twenty minutes," he says. "Wake me."
Mikami nods.
Gevanni leans back in the seat, letting his arms slump to his sides - which feels way too good - and closes his eyes. Almost immediately, or so it seems, the tiredness rushes up again, black and heavy and cutting his mind off from his body, letting it float in darkness. He's too tired even to worry about the situation now - disconnected thoughts like Rester and Mikami and Kira and Near float through his mind, but they don't lead to anything, they just hang there, letting him know that they're going to be important when he opens his eyes.
Eventually, they stop meaning anything.
Just as he feels he's falling, something drags him back. Words. Fast talking, music; he blinks, opens his eyes. His neck's stiff. The radio. Mikami has switched on the radio - it is twenty minutes, exactly, since he closed his eyes - Mikami has switched on the radio, and they're talking about him.
"- continuing the search for the six. NHN reports that two are American, and members of the disbanded US anti-Kira group, Special Provision for Kira. The other four are former Japanese police officers. One of the Americans is believed to have kidnapped a Kyoto lawyer, Teru Mikami -"
Gevanni sits up, looks round. His mind feels fresh and light and he's fully aware of how much shit he could now be in. Mikami is staring at him. He's gone white.
"You lied to me," he says.
"No -"
"You lied and you're lying now! You're trying to make me forget, you're trying to lead me into sin - and I believed -"
He's leaning round, scrabbling with the doorhandle. Gevanni's reached for his gun before he realises, is pointing it, is wondering what it would be like to drive for another twelve hours with a corpse as a passenger.
"Mikami," he says, "please listen."
Mikami actually smiles, miserably. "Of course. You're using force to make yourself righteous, just like everyone else."
"No. I just can't let you leave, do you understand? Listen to me!" He can't lose track of Mikami. (He'll get back to NHN. Give you away.) He can do this. He knows he can.
"I don't care if you kill me. It's better to die pure than to live in sin, I don't care -" Mikami's fingers scrabbling on the handle. It's only his shock that's stopped him fleeing.
"Listen!" Gevanni lets a angry edge creep into his voice, as if the way this situation plays out actually matters to him. Mikami stares at him, and Gevanni carries on, "Please." (All right, let's see how well you can act.) "I can't just let you walk back into danger. You're - you're my friend."
Silence. Mikami evidently wasn't expecting this. He's gone very still, his eyes darting over Gevanni's face, looking for lies.
"I don't have friends," he says.
"That's not what I said. I said I count you as a friend. I count you as someone whose sense of justice is strong enough that I can trust him completely. Someone who doesn't lie or act fake to get what they want. And I'm not going to let you get yourself killed now." (Corny.)
Mikami's mouth falls open and he gazes at Gevanni as confused and awed as if Gevanni's claiming he can do magic.
"But we never spoke," he says, slowly, hesitantly. "I swear I can't remember us ever talking."
Gevanni swallows, makes himself smile ruefully. "Yeah, I get that. You can't remember a lot. I'm not... I'm not angry about it. But I need to keep you safe."
"You could... you could just be saying this. To keep me on your side."
Credit where credit's due, the man's not an idiot. "What else can I do? I know I don't have any proof that what I'm saying is true. But we both know that Takada is controlling the media." (He's speaking quietly and calmly and he doesn't sound guilty, not guilty at all.) "Of course she wants to make it sound like we're all anti-Kira. Especially me, seeing as I'm not even Japanese. It might be that she wants to provoke this reaction, that she's trying to get you to come back here of your own accord. She knows how concerned you are to do the right thing."
Mikami watches him, wide-eyed. His hands, still on the door, have gone still.
"Please, Mikami-san," Gevanni says. "You don't know where you are. You can't drive, and you're still injured. And if you do make your way back to Takada, and she uses you to betray Kira, it won't just be her you'll need to run away from. Stick with me now, and there's only me. And I swear, we both want the same things."
Mikami is shaking a little.
"I know there's a lot of gaps in your memories. She can use those. She knows you."
"So do you," Mikami whispers.
"Yes. And you know me. Well, you did. You used to know you could trust me. It's your call, okay? It's who you trust more, me or Takada. But if you pick her -" (Sorry; pained) "Look, I don't want to shoot you. But I can't let you screw up the real Kira's chances. I can't - I can't let feelings come before doing what's right."
That's it, the killer blow. Because Mikami would be equally willing to destroy a friend if he believed it was justice. The man bites his lip, gives one last desperate glance out of the window, but then slumps, putting his face in his hands, breath shaking. In his head, Gevanni breathes a slow sigh of relief. He starts the car, and drives back onto the freeway. In the bigger picture, he may be screwed, but right now, he can convince himself he's still holding things together.
***
Mogi was worried that catching the train to Kansai was risky - if not because they'd be visible and observed, then because Misa might pick up a newspaper - but she didn't seem interested in investigating current events at all. He bought her a magazine, but she only flicked listlessly through it, spending most of her time staring out of the window. Her silence, coupled with her avoid-the-fans disguise - hair pulled back in a harsh ponytail, a pair of lensless glasses on her nose - makes her seem like someone else entirely, like Mogi has woken up suddenly to find himself travelling with a stranger.
They arrive mid-afternoon, but she insists on window-shopping, showing Mogi where she used to go for ice cream after school, where she once almost got caught shoplifting chocolate, where she got her ears pierced. As the sky gets darker and the air bites down on them, he feels her trembling, hears her voice grow higher and louder. She's obviously trying to put off visiting her sister, but even though he'd like to get off the streets and out of sight he hasn't the heart to force her. Besides, if anyone is following them, it will throw them off the scent as to their destination. Perhaps.
He tries to remind himself that this isn't about doing what's best for Misa, it's about defeating Kira and keeping the notebook away from him. Just because being kind to her may feel like the most important thing - and why should it, anyway, their relationship is entirely built on fake professionalism, why is he even thinking like this - the point is, feelings are not to be trusted now. What counts is quick thinking and practicality. He just wishes he had more of either quality.
"So your sister never left this area?" he says at one point.
"No." Misa is staring at a window display, folding the hem of her top into pleats as she does so. "She's a lot older than me, though. You know, more settled."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she's twelve years older than me." A sudden smile as she giggles and winks at him: "She'll probably freak out when I turn up on her doorstep with my secret lover in tow! I can't wait to see her face."
Mogi hastily glances at the streetlight flickering against the sky, knowing he's blushing again. "If you think she won't be happy about it -"
He sees, out of the corner of his eye, Misa wave a dismissive hand. "Hey, if she won't let us stay with her we can find a hotel. At least -" She lowers her voice a bit, and he turns to look at her - "at least we're out of Tokyo, right? I mean - Mochi really thinks this is the right thing to do?"
Mogi makes himself look at her. "Yes." And he's almost sure it's not a lie.
Eventually, when all the shops have closed and Misa's hands are so cold that Mogi can feel the chilliness of her fingers even through his coat sleeve, she shrugs and says, "Hey, Mochi... I guess we should get going."
"Is your sister's home far?"
"Not so much."
She huddles into her coat now, silent, staring at her feet. The air's bitingly cold, and the streetlights blur and frost in the mist.
"Mochi's okay? Misa wanted to... to look round the town again."
"I'm okay." He wants to ask her why she's afraid, but he doesn't think he can. He's always preferred to pretend he isn't scared when something unnerving happens, and disliked it when someone draws attention to his unease. He can do Misa the same favour.
Her sister lives in an apartment not far from the city centre. The ceilings are low and the walls are thick, meaning that they walk through a corridor of silence. Misa walks more slowly, feet dragging, heels of her boots echoing tap tap on the bare floor.
""My sister might be rude to us," she says. "She's sort of... she sort of doesn't like me very much."
"Why not?"
"Ohh... when I left for Tokyo, we had a fight." She tosses her head a bit, her ponytail jumping. "You know. I sort of haven't actually talked to her much since."
"What did you fight about?"
"Things..." Misa sounds absent. She's got her back to Mogi now, pausing on the landing as if she's not sure of the route. "Kira. She'd just got divorced, you know? She was totally jealous of me because I was still young and had my whole life ahead of me. And I'm way prettier than her too."
"How - how does she feel about Kira?"
Misa shrugs. "I don't know. Don't care. She just had a massive fight with me for no reason. So, I'm just saying, she might say a bunch of stuff about me that isn't true. Or think I'm pretending about Raito, or something. Just... Mochi trusts me, right?"
"Of - of course."
Misa gives a triumphant grin, and turns back to face him.
"Yeah, I should have known," she says. "Mochi's a good guy."
She takes a few quick strides, stops outside one of the apartments, and rings the doorbell. They wait, her clutching his arm. She seems absent, now, as if she's remembering something else. Perhaps she isn't scared. Perhaps she's only remembering her childhood, her parents. It must be difficult for her, coming back, to Mogi's knowledge for the first time since the murders. He should stop seeing fear, weakness, where there might not be any. He'd only be looking for it so that he could protect her.
The door opens a little way, revealing one side of a woman's face. Thinner than Misa, clearly older, with a sharp mouth and straight dark hair tied back in a ponytail. She stares at them, her mouth falling open - blinks a few times. Then her face tightens.
"Why exactly are you here?" she says, at last, her voice stiff.
"Aww, come on, is that any way to say hi to me again? I mean it's been ages." Misa's nails are digging into Mogi's arm.
"For god's sake, Misa, stop trying to be charming and tell me why you're here." She looks tired, and angry, but under that there is an edge of fear. What's she scared of? "If - if you just dropped in for a visit, well, I'm sorry, but I'm very busy at the moment -"
"No, no, Fuyumi, wait, please -" Misa actually dives forward to stick her foot in the door. "Misa just wanted to see you again! Nothing bad's happened, I promise!" Her voice is growing higher with nerves. Fuyumi glances away from her, and meets Mogi's eyes. She looks suddenly furious; Mogi wonders if it's because this not-very-happy reunion is happening in front of a stranger. Whatever it might be, it's starting to look very much as though they'll have to give up on Fuyumi's hospitality if things continue as they are, so he steps forward a little, bows, lets himself sound like he very much wants to charm her. Lying is a bit easier when you're doing it in a voice that thinks it oozes charm. "My apologies for not introducing myself, Amane-san. My name is Kanichi Moji; I'm Misa-Misa's manager. It's very nice to meet you."
Fuyumi blinks. "Her manager? Really?"
"Of course really," Misa says. "Why do you have to be so rude?"
"Well, it's not like we've spoken recently. This guy could be anyone -"
"Oh, so now Misa's a slut, is that it -"
Mogi hastily takes one of the business cards he carries in his manager persona and presents it to Fuyumi, bowing again for good measure.
"See," Misa says smugly.
"Hm. All right. Pleased to meet you, Moji-san," Fuyumi says, but she doesn't look at him now, she keeps her eyes on Misa. "Now do tell me, how I can be of assistance to the famous Misa-Misa and her manager?"
"Well..." Misa glances coquettishly up at the ceiling. "Actually, Fuyumi, Misa actually needs a little bit of help..."
"Oh. Really."
"You see..." Misa is twisting her fingers round each other. "Misa kind of needs a place to stay."
"Excuse me?"
"Misa... I sort of had... had a fight..."
Her voice dries up. Mogi, glancing at her, sees that her mouth is trembling.
"What Misa-Misa would like to say," he says, gently, "is that she and her fiance have unfortunately had some differences, and she felt it was best to put some space between them."
"And, and too many people know both of us!" Misa says, smile brightening a little. "Him and I, I mean. So it just seemed really tough on him if I were to stay in Tokyo. Mochi kindly offered to go with me. You know, to keep me safe?"
"Really." Fuyumi glances from Misa to Mogi, frowns. Mogi wonders how nervous they're both looking; how desperate.
"What were these differences about?" Fuyumi asks, and her eyes dart down the corridor like she's expecting someone else to come down it.
"Oh... you don't need to know."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Fuyumi says, an edge of bitterness in her voice. "That if I did know, there's no way I'd let you over the doorstep?"
Mogi expects Misa to come back with another retort, but she only takes a deep, shaking breath and says, "It isn't - please, Fuyumi - it isn't anything bad, I just need your help..." Mogi thinks it's genuine. Misa's still clutching his arm like she's about to faint, at any rate.
Fuyumi stares at her and then all at once she steps back, lets the door swing open. As they walk inside, she quickly closes it, and Mogi sees that she puts the chain on.
"By the way," she says, running a hand through her hair like she's getting a headache already, "is Moji-san remaining with you, Misa, or did he just want to see you delivered here safely?"
"Mochi's my manager," Misa says. "He needs to stay with me. What if a call came in about a shoot? Besides, it's dark now."
"So you're in fact asking for me to put both of you up."
"Mochi is staying with me," Misa says, eyes narrowing. "He didn't have to come with me, but he did, because he's nice. I'm not telling him to go and find a hotel."
Fuyumi looks at him again, and he can see the questions in her face, but in the end she only shrugs, and, turning away, says, "Well, by all means make yourself at home. I'm sorry the place is so untidy, but if you had called ahead..."
The flat isn't, in fact, untidy at all, but it is very small, with kitchen area, rice cooker, television, and little bookcase crammed into the room they're now standing in. Misa's pulling her coat off, eyes darting round the room nervously.
"Will there be enough room for us both?" Mogi says. "Misa and I can always -"
"Don't be silly, Mochi, it'll be fine," Misa says. "Fuyumi will have some spare futons, we can just sleep here."
"Of course you will," Fuyumi says, and now she's staring at Misa's hand still on Mogi's arm. She looks scornful, but she doesn't look as frightened. Whatever she was fearing, it wasn't just that her sister was bringing a boyfriend home.
"For your information," Misa says, flicking her hair back, "Misa is happy to share a room with Mochi. When we're on location we share a room all the time. Misa can trust Mochi."
Mogi can feel himself blushing. It probably helps; probably makes it more convincing that what they're lying about is just an affair. He wishes he'd had a chance to look at the news; how much could Fuyumi know? She must be aware of Misa's old fascination with Kira. On the other hand, she hasn't brought it up outright, so perhaps that will buy them some time. Misa is clutching his arm even more, smirking at her sister; the gesture makes him think of how she behaves with Raito, and he's suddenly too hot, and too conscious of her fingers against his sleeve. It is a cover story, he thinks at himself, furiously, it is not real.
Fuyumi sighs - a short, sharp sigh - and snaps, "Do you know what, Misa? I don't care. You can do what you want. You always have before. I'll get some futons, and then I'll stay in my bedroom and the two of you can have privacy."
"Good," Misa says, snuggling against Mogi's arm a little. "That's all I wanted. Do you have any food?"
"We can get some takeaway," Mogi says hastily. "Amane-san is welcome to join us."
In the end Fuyumi does eat with them, not looking at either of them and giving a clear impression of cold fury without saying a word. Misa chatters away about celebrity parties and gossip columns, not seeming to mind that neither of her dinner companions are responding. After the meal has been finished and the cardboard containers tidied away, Fuyumi brings out futons and then disappears into the other room, saying over her shoulder as she does, "Don't keep me awake. I have work in the morning." But the door is only closed hard, not slammed. Mogi suspects Misa would have slammed it.
They lay out the futons and Misa goes into the bathroom to change into her nightclothes. When she comes back out, she seems more subdued, her hair loose and hanging round her face. She comes to sit down on her futon, huddles up with her knees pressed to her chest.
"Mochi hasn't got any pyjamas," she says at last.
"I... no. It's all right."
She giggles. "It's too cold to sleep nude, isn't it?" Her laughter trails off, though.
"Mochi," she says at last, "What will we do if... if they don't stop looking for us?"
Mogi considers the possible answers to that question, but all he can say is the truth: "I don't know."
"No." She smiles, sadly. "I guess not. Misa will sleep now, okay?"
"Sure."
But when the lights are off and they're both lying down, with the smell of the takeaway still hanging in the air and faint, washed-out moonlight on one wall, he hears her shifting about, sighing. The stupid parts of his mind tell him she's deliberately making her worry obvious, that she wants him to reassure her, but he knows that's ridiculous. She doesn't need his protection. She's reasonably good at protecting herself. Or, at any rate, employing enough determination to hide any fear she might be feeling. He has admired that about her, the way she will face down anything if it threatens something important to her, but at the same time he wants to know how scared she is underneath, whether she ever feels as nervous and awkward as he does, and, if so, how she covers it up.
"Raito can look after himself," he says softly, and it occurs to him that if he manages to survive this then that will suggest that Raito has been imprisoned; killed; neutralised, at any rate. And it'll destroy Misa. He feels a little sick. It isn't just that he's lying to her - he's using her, indirectly, to carry out her worst nightmare. He can ponder all he wants how dangerous Raito is and how bad he is for anyone close to him, but the fact remains that if he himself is going to end up on the winning side, Misa is going to end up devastated.
"I know," she says. "But Misa wants to look after him. He was hurt, you said. He could be on his own. And I'm just... hiding."
"This is what he'd want," Mogi says, feeding her the lines as if they're in a play. "He wants to know that you're all right."
"Yes," Misa says, nodding a little. "Yeah. I can be brave for him. Misa's always brave for him. I just..." She looks over at him; in the moonlight she looks very tired. "You see what she's like? You see what I had to put up with?"
Mogi keeps silent, and Misa smiles, a little. "Well. I guess I can't expect you to talk about her behind her back. She just... she thinks everything is my fault. If I did tell her what had happened, she wouldn't understand if was Kiyomi who did it, she'd say I should have seen it coming." A pause, then, as if she's decided to explain everything: "You know why? You know why she thinks that way? Because of what happened. I mean, with our parents. She assumes that if things go wrong, then it's somebody's fault. I mean... if things go wrong for you, it's your fault. She went on and on about how we should have - should have locked the back door that night. Like that's the important -" She stops; with an effort, she seems to pull herself together, curl up in the futon, hair hanging around her face. "How could I ever have brought Raito here? Raito's family are all so nice. He wouldn't want to deal with her. With all this stuff." Her voice shakes a little. "Misa doesn't really want to deal with it either."
Mogi badly wants to put an arm round her, or take her hand: do something comforting, because there's no way he'll be able to say anything. Except perhaps I am so sorry. He tries to keep breathing sensibly and he tells himself that Misa is not broken, that she's strong and that even if the worst happens she will come through it. And that it isn't as if he's the one responsible for her happiness anyway. Raito's the one who has that duty (who knows he has it and doesn't, Mogi suspects, really care.)
"She doesn't get it," Misa says, more quietly. "She thinks that if bad things happen to good people, it makes them bad. She doesn't see that... you know, bad people do the bad things and they're the ones whose fault it is. They're the ones who should be punished." She looks over at him; a shy smile. "It's okay, Misa doesn't like Kira any more. Misa likes what Raito likes."
It's like a light has been switched on and chased away the moonlight. Mogi manages a smile back, moves to pull the covers over himself, because for god's sake, what's wrong with him that he's thinking of Misa as the eternal victim in all of this? Misa came to Tokyo for a reason, and he and the rest of the task force are pretty sure they know what it was. He wonders if Fuyumi has some inkling, if that was why she seemed so nervous. At any rate, Misa has got away with any number of deaths. There's no reason he needs to be thinking of more things to offer her.
***
The sun has set; streetlights along the side of the road are lit up, cold white, the only things bright enough to be real.
Ide can feeling his brain trying to tell him it's okay to fall asleep. Well, it is, technically, seeing as Aizawa's the one driving; Matsuda has already given up the ghost and is curled up on the back seat, head half-under his jacket. But Aizawa looks just as tired as Ide feels and probably shouldn't be the only one awake. Dying in a car crash would be a ridiculous way to go, considering how many people are out to kill them.
"We should stop soon," he says instead.
"Don't be stupid."
Well, at least Aizawa's willing to talk to him. "I'm not. We can't drive all night."
"The longer we stop anywhere, the more dangerous it's going to be." Aizawa scowls at the radio, which is currently hissing out some idol singer's latest. "Not to mention if we stop and then they release photos - the NPA are happy to let them kidnap people, they'll be fine with providing ID of us as soon as Raito asks -"
"Then we should stop while we still know it's safe. You look done in."
"I've had enough of your concern for my welfare, all right?" Aizawa snaps.
For god's sake. Ide doesn't want another fight, but he lets Aizawa see his contempt for that remark before he turns away, stares out of the window at the dark banks rushing past them.
They've said pretty much nothing since the discussion this morning. Ide tells himself he prefers it that way, he doesn't need people having a go at him for trying to help, but the silence filling the car has left him with lots of space to think about their situation and how bad it is. Oh, and to listen to NHN, and to the constant clips of Eriko's plea that keep getting repeated. Aizawa's gone paler and paler and once or twice Ide thought he was actually going to lose it right then and there, do a U-turn in the middle of the motorway and start heading back the way they'd come. He didn't, of course, but he spoke less and less and so Ide and Matsuda found themselves not speaking either.
We just have to deal with it. Nothing's happened yet. Nothing really bad.
Matsuda's sleepy voice echoes over the sound of the engine: "Hey... there's a sign for a hotel..." He sounds almost pleading. He probably wants out of the car and its atmosphere as much as Ide does.
"Come on," Ide says. "Even if we don't stay there, we can get something to eat that isn't freeze-dried."
Aizawa shrugs, turns off the motorway. He slumps, as if he's too tired to argue any more. Ide wonders if now is a good time to have a sensible conversation about their course of action, but quickly rejects that idea. He suspects if Aizawa isn't angry, he'll be despairing. And besides, he's emotional, he's not thinking straight. They can talk about what to do after they've all had some sleep. Assuming things don't get even worse.
In the end, they do book rooms - Ide suspects that Aizawa realises how exhausted he is once he stops the car - and buy food from the cheap restaurant on the other side of the forecourt. Aizawa eats quickly, ignoring them, and, when he's finished, he says, "I'm going to bed," and has walked away before either of them can speak. Ide resists the urge to scowl after him, but his thoughts mutter away anyway: just so he can take the moral high ground - wants to make himself into a martyr - I'm concerned about all of us, not just myself - he'd wanted to help -
Without Aizawa there the silence should feel less oppressive, but it doesn't. Although it doesn't help that it's probably too risky to make small talk. Ide eats without tasting the food, which is overcooked and salty. Matsuda is picking at his meal, pushing it round the plate. He looks worn out, worn down, and certainly like he didn't sleep at all last night.
"You're not a child," Ide says at last, more for something, anything, to say than because he cares.
Matsuda shrugs. "It's the driving all day. It..." He doesn't bother to finish the sentence, just pushes his plate away. Then, abruptly, he says, "Look, I... I'm going to have a drink. You can - you can go on up if you want."
Oh, I see, you think I'm scum too. Being rejected by Matsuda of all people stings more than it should. God, he really has been spending too much time on this case.
"A drink sounds good," he says. "I'll join you."
This is stupid. They can't really afford to waste the time, the money, or the thinking faculties. Not to mention every second they're out in public is another second where someone could become suspicious of them. Aizawa would think they were both idiots -
Yeah, all right, have a go at me for wanting to sort this out rather than putting up with it -
Except he didn't, he didn't just want to sort it out, he only took the papers out of a half-formed sense of paranoia that they'd regret separating themselves from the notebook, he said before that using the notebook would be wrong and it is, it's just - if you've got no choice - Aizawa won't be able to take this for long, and for god's sake if Takada does try and push him she must know he might retaliate this way? Ide could do it and Aizawa would be furious but he wouldn't be able to say he wasn't happy with the outcome -
Matsuda has returned with their drinks. The stuff is cheap and sour and no better than the food was, but it's warm and slightly satisfying at least. Ide drinks and finds himself wondering what it would be like to get up from the table and then collapse and die of a heart attack, sprawled across the cheap, faintly stained carpet. Bright lights and unfamiliar faces and - the certain knowledge that this was it, that it wouldn't matter how fast an ambulance arrived or what a doctor did, you were going to die and that was it -
He can't tell if he suddenly wants to get the papers out and scrawl Raito and Takada's names across them or if the idea of touching any part of the notebook makes him feel sick. Either way, he wishes he hadn't started this thought. He downs the remains of his drink and gets to his feet. "Let's go."
He expects Matsuda to make a crack about people being boring or whatever, but Matsuda doesn't; he just looks up, resigned, like Ide just called him out on some mistake he knew he couldn't get away with. A few more desultory sips, and he gets to his feet.
Outside it seems even colder; their breath clouds around them, and mist has built up around the streetlights. Matsuda is still silent; walking a little way ahead, his arms wrapped round himself. Ide is annoyed to notice reality receding a little, like it sometimes does when he's drunk, like nothing really matters and nothing he does will make any difference. Normally it only happens after he's drunk quite a bit more, but doing nothing all day but sit in a car seems to be killing his appetite and he was sleepy and paranoid enough as it is. Get a grip. Just get a grip. If you drank enough, you could probably forget what you were doing when you wrote down a name. As far as he knows, none of the Kiras took that route. Still, perhaps if you've decided to use the notebook, you owe it to your victim to at least off them while coherent enough to know exactly what you're doing. The method of murder is so easy, you can't get much better, so you'd have to be a real coward to want to get plastered still -
Their room is different from last night's and yet, of course, the same in all respects: thin, pressed sheets; flat-pack furniture; regular squares on the ceiling. Chilly, as well; the battered radiator in the corner turns the air around it lukewarm. Matsuda hurries past Ide and sits down on one of the beds, kicking off his shoes.
"I'm... I'm really tired," he says. "I think I'll just... just sleep. If you want to watch TV or something, that's cool, but I'm just going to... to..."
Ide knows that they are both tired and that discussing the situation won't make them feel any better and Matsuda doesn't have to make conversation with him, but the drink's evidently confused the adult part of his mind enough for him to snap, "If you think I'm a psychopath for having those pages, why don't you just come out and say it?"
"I don't think that," Matsuda says, too loudly.
"Just can't bear to say a word to me. Hey, I can swap with Aizawa for tonight, you two can spend the whole night discussing how morally reprehensible you think I am."
Matsuda doesn't answer; he just stares at the floor, picks at a loose seam on his jacket. Ide wants him to argue, or even to agree, so that he himself can put across his point of view and prove to everyone that he's not some kind of murderous lunatic and he was trying to help, that's all, just because he thought of taking the pages doesn't make him no better than Raito, it doesn't - but Matsuda just keeps quiet and that makes Ide even angrier.
"You're such a hypocrite," he says, and his voice sounds harsh and vicious. "You admitted you support Kira. You pretty much thought he was right, it was just because of the Chief that you stuck around." Matsuda still doesn't answer, and Ide carries on, "Or is it because it's Raito? If it were anyone else you'd be happy to let them die, but Raito's different, Raito's special -"
"Leave me alone," Matsuda says. He sounds angrier than Ide has ever heard him but so what, why should Ide be the only one feeling pissed off with the world?
He says, "And Aizawa thought I was trying to push important decisions on to other people."
"You didn't ask me what I thought! And if I'd told you, you'd have just called me an idiot anyway like you always do!" Matsuda is shaking. "I don't care, all right? You can do what you like. I don't give a damn what happens to Raito. I don't care."
"Liar. You want him dead just as much as I do. You shot at him enough times back at the warehouse, did you really think none of those were going to be fatal?"
Matsuda draws a breath like the air's been knocked out of him, and Ide can feel his heart thumping, he could say anything now he's feeling like this, but he is sick of no one backing him up. After a few seconds Matsuda stammers, "That wasn't - and I didn't kill him, I didn't want to kill him - and so what, anyway? I said, right now I don't even care -"
"Why don't you just admit it? You don't want him dead because you still want him to be your friend. At least Aizawa is trying to take the moral high ground."
Matsuda's head snaps up and he says, voice shaking, "That's not true."
"Yeah, right." Ide is wishing he hadn't said it - it's a stupid remark, the sort of thing a high school girl would say. But he's not backing down, he's not going to be in the wrong, not this time. "You don't care about the morality of it all, you just want it to be that Raito's a good guy. That's why you kept going on about - about giving ourselves up. You actually want to see him be merciful."
Matsuda is on his feet suddenly and he is shaking but he doesn't seem scared, he is angry, and he locks eyes with Ide and then all at once he's saying, "You - you want Raito dead? Why don't you go ahead and do it?" Gasps for breath between each sentence. "I'll be on your side so we'll - we'll outvote Aizawa and save everyone - why don't you just kill him? He deserves it, doesn't he?"
Ide feels triumph roar through his veins and he is reaching to his inside jacket pocket and he - he will, just - just to prove -
What the hell are you doing?
He thinks he's going to throw up, so close, so fucking close - how easy it would have been to scrawl down a name just to win an argument, for god's sake -
Matsuda's gone still, and so pale he looks like he might actually faint.
"Don't -" he says at last. The words are shaken out of him. "Stop - I didn't mean it - oh, god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it -"
"I'm not going to." Ide can hear his own voice sounding unsteady. If he'd just lost his temper for a few more minutes...
Matsuda doesn't seem to hear him. He stumbles forward, closes the gap between them. "You were going to - I just said it because - you were actually going to do it - I didn't mean -"
"I wasn't! I just... I was just..." His own voice trails off. I was just going to do it to piss you off. That's even worse than wanting to kill them before they kill you. That's - god, what the hell is wrong with him? How could he have even considered being so stupid?
"I know, I know..." Matsuda's voice is high and unsteady. "It wasn't... you didn't mean... we were just... I was just mad with... I just wanted to show that..." He sounds shaky enough that Ide puts a hand out to him in case he is actually going to keel over. Matsuda grabs at it and then suddenly he is right up against Ide and he is kissing him.
It's so bizarre, and it follows something so unexpected and horrible, that for at least a couple of seconds Ide doesn't do anything, just stands there (scared, just wanting to cling on to someone, needing not to be on his own -)
Of course almost immediately his brain catches up with events and he jerks back and snaps, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Don't you..." Matsuda's voice trails off. "I just thought maybe it would - help."
"Why? Why would it help anything?" Ide is angry now - this is probably some stupid romantic thing Matsuda saw on TV and wanted to, to try as a joke - like they don't have better things to worry about, like lack of romance is at all important right now - "You don't just go round doing that!"
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I just... I just misread stuff. That's all." Matsuda tries to laugh, but it doesn't work. "Just forget it -"
"No, that doesn't explain it at all. What stuff could you possibly misread?" Ide feels hot and embarrassed and stupid and still sick from almost writing down a name and he's almost tempted to walk out of the door and spend the night in the hotel foyer. Or punch Matsuda just to make sure someone else feels worse than him. Although Matsuda already sounds worse than him, desperate for his own crazy version of normal.
"Well... you know," he's saying now, "you're... like that, so I thought..."
Ide has to wonder if he's dreaming this. Either that or his colleague has actually snapped under the strain of the last few days.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You've never had a girlfriend!" Matsuda's folded his arms, is huddled away, but he snaps the words back over his shoulder. "You've never dated anyone and you don't even seem to notice girls, you even said - and you're, what, nearly forty and you act like you've never going to get married -"
"I didn't notice you keeping tabs on my entire romantic history to date," Ide begins, and then stops, not sure what else to say. Generally, he doesn't notice girls. Women. Because he's got more important things to think about, like work or whatever.
He doubts mentioning this to Matsuda will help the situation. Matsuda probably can't conceive of a situation where work takes priority over anything.
"Well, why aren't you married, then?" Matsuda says. He sounds like a more overtly spiteful version of most of Ide's immediate family, a comparison that's irritating and ridiculous in equal measure. On the other hand, he isn't family and so Ide can snap back, "Because I haven't met the right person yet!" and not have to worry about sounding overly defensive. He is being defensive. Matsuda is pretty much insulting him to his face! "And, in case you'd forgotten, I've spent the last six years trying to hunt down a serial killer!" Whom we just nearly killed. No, he doesn't want to go back to talking about Kira. "Anyway, if your love life's so much better than mine, why exactly did you just make a move on me? It seems a little desperate, right? Even for you."
"Because - I don't know."
"Oh, for god's sake. You must have some idea."
"It beats hiding in hotel rooms and watching NHN and thinking about how we're all going to die, all right?" Matsuda slumps down on the bed again, directing his words to the floor. "You wouldn't know this, but making out with people is actually kind of fun. Or it's a distraction, anyway." He looks up. "I wasn't... I wasn't laughing at you because you don't have a girlfriend or whatever. I just always thought... I didn't think I needed to ask."
He actually sounds like he means it - or even if he doesn't, Ide feels reassured that they now both look equally stupid.
"Well," he says, "it might have been advisable to check first."
"I know, all right? I messed up and I'm sorry but I wasn't trying to... it wasn't... oh god, Ide, don't tell Aizawa, seriously -"
"Of course I'm not going to tell Aizawa!" Ide comes to sit down on the other bed, rests his head on his hands until the nausea at the thought of Aizawa finding out about this has faded. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I don't talk to people about things like that." He can still feel the print of Matsuda's mouth on his. He sort of wants to rub it away. It's distracting, more than it should be.
Matsuda doesn't answer and Ide suddenly feels sorry for him. It can't be much fun to proposition someone and have them yell at you. Even if Matsuda was an idiot to think anything would happen. He can't work out how the other man would even picture the two of them - being intimate. It's a completely ridiculous idea, and he's only considering it at the moment out of fascinated curiosity about how it would even work. He still feels too hot, too jumpy. Matsuda's right, anything beats being alone with your fears right now.
"Well... have you done this before?" he says.
"What, kissed people?"
"Kissed - kissed men, you idiot."
Matsuda shifts, stares back at the floor. Ide decides to take the silence as a yes.
"Right," he says. He's tempted to ask who Matsuda might have kissed, but figures that will rather undercut his own assertion that he doesn't talk about stuff like this. Not to mention that if it turns out to be someone they both know, that will be two people he can no longer look at in the same way.
Assuming he ever makes it back to home and to work and has the luxury of awkwardness at other people's romantic interactions being the biggest thing he has to worry about.
The curiosity from earlier is growing, in line with the usual awareness that he might well be dead by the end of the week. In his head it's like he's remembering something Matsuda never said: it must suck for you, knowing you'll never have a great romance now before you die. And it's not even true, he doesn't want great romance, he thinks it's stupid, but... he's spent his entire life being sensible and controlled and - normal, and this is his reward, to die of a heart attack, quite possibly after some lunatic's done his best to make him give up a few key pieces of information? It's not fair is a ridiculous retort to anything, but it's true. He would never normally even think of responding to Matsuda's suggestion, because it would be stupid and embarrassing and inappropriate - but where has avoiding stupidity got him, now? He is so sick of trying to be responsible...
"If... if you want," he says, his mouth suddenly dry, oh god, what am I doing, but at the same time go on, just say it, just - "I mean... I'm not interested, but... if you do want, you might as well... seeing as we'll both be dead in a few days, what the hell does it matter?"
Matsuda's head snaps up and he stares through the darkness.
"But it goes no further than this, all right?"
"All right," Matsuda whispers, and gets to his feet, comes to sit next to him.
For a moment Ide thinks he's being expected to be the one to act and he is suddenly appalled at what the hell he thinks he's doing - but the next second, Matsuda is kissing him again, and any determination to behave sensibly is disrupted by the recollection of how strange kissing is, not least because of how it makes him warm all over. And the warmth tingles in his skin and damn it, this might never happen to him again, and so he pulls Matsuda close, wanting to feel someone else all over him, and Matsuda sighs happily and kisses at his throat, which Ide doesn't think anyone's ever done to him before. It should be annoying, like being tickled, it is annoying, but it's flickering breathless annoyance that stops being something negative the stronger it grows.
At some point Matsuda breaks a kiss to scramble more onto the bed and Ide moves out of the way of his feet and they end up lying down, lying against each other, and Matsuda's hands, no longer chilly from the night air, are clutching at Ide's back and then at his shirt and then, hesitantly, up under his clothes. But by this point Ide's realising how much he is getting out of this and how he will be more annoyed with Matsuda than he has ever been before in his life if it stops and, not thinking now, just wanting, just doing, he presses close, trying to shake off the warmth, scratch an itch, and on the edge of his consciousness he notices Matsuda's arousal and somehow the realisation that his colleague is finding this at least somewhat enjoyable, isn't just doing it to humour Ide, sends a shudder of triumph through him - that things are different, that there is no earthly reason for him to be doing this, that right now nothing can stop him making them both feel good. This is ridiculous and unnatural and completely out-of-character for him, but right now he doesn't care.
[Chapter 3 on Fanfiction.net]
[Chapter 3 on Skyehawke.com]
[Rating] PG-13 (slightly above that language-wise)
[Fandom] Death Note
[Story Summary] AU. Neither Raito nor Near's victory went as planned. Now the task force and the SPK are on the run with Kira's notebook and all the power of the new world against them.
In Chapter 3, people manage to form bonds with each other, despite the grave situation they're in. Of course, these bonds are based on half-truths, outright lies, or just fear at the threat of impending death, but that's par for the course by now...
Also, shortest chapter to date. Go me :p
(AN: this chapter features hints of a het pairing to come, and actual slash pairing (nothing particularly explicit, though). Just for your information!)
Gevanni has kept an eye on the dashboard clock for the last two hours, and he's become horribly aware of how much the numbers have started to blur. There's that, and there's the way he can feel his eyes moving in their sockets whenever he glances down. Not to mention how the shadows on the road keep lying flat or turning white if he doesn't blink. And the top of his spine and his arms and his ankles ache, but he tuned that out a while back. Okay, he's seriously going to have to stop and sleep before he kills them both.
Mikami's been quiet since their last conversation; staring blankly out, or scratching absently at the dressings on his throat. (Going to have to take care of that, too.)
"Right -" Gevanni hears his voice dry and stale as the air in here - "I'm going to have to take a break."
Mikami looks round at him. "Where are we going to go?"
"We can pull off at the next service station. I can get some coffee at least."
Mikami frowns. "You've been driving for over twelve hours now."
"Yeah, I know."
"It isn't safe."
"Well, I don't know what else to do. I don't think it's safe for us to check in anywhere, either." He pulls off the freeway, eases the car into the service station. It's bathed in cold sunlight; for a moment that's all he can see, and he blinks, hard.
"Why not?"
"They'll be looking out for you, and I'm not Japanese. They'll ask questions." He feels slowed-down, as if he's only on a time-delay from the US. Leaning forward, he rests his head on the steering wheel, and exhaustion crawls up his body, horribly quickly. Shit, he is this close to falling asleep.
"Then you should sleep in the car," Mikami says, calmly, sounding like the most reasonable travelling companion alive apart from the hoarseness of his voice. "You are not safe to drive, Gevanni-san."
Gevanni doesn't exactly want to say yes, but that still means you could disappear while I'm napping. It goes against the atmosphere of trust he's making a stab at creating. In the end he says, "What, and let you drive?"
"I can't drive." Mikami glances away, down at his feet, at his still neatly-polished shoes. "Surely you already know that."
"I - I know I never saw you, but you live in a city, I guess I -" He massages his forehead, glad that at least it's cold enough that his fingers are cool. "Sorry. How come?"
"I have never needed to," Mikami says, in a tone that doesn't invite further questioning. "We can park somewhere secluded and you can sleep for a short while. I'll wait."
Gevanni doesn't like this and every instinct is yelling at him that it's dangerous, but he suspects that at least a few of those instincts are being powered by lack of sleep, and it isn't like a chance to rest is likely to turn up if he waits long enough. In the end he nods, and carries on to the parking lot, managing to duck into a space that's a reasonable distance from any other vehicles.
"Just twenty minutes," he says. "Wake me."
Mikami nods.
Gevanni leans back in the seat, letting his arms slump to his sides - which feels way too good - and closes his eyes. Almost immediately, or so it seems, the tiredness rushes up again, black and heavy and cutting his mind off from his body, letting it float in darkness. He's too tired even to worry about the situation now - disconnected thoughts like Rester and Mikami and Kira and Near float through his mind, but they don't lead to anything, they just hang there, letting him know that they're going to be important when he opens his eyes.
Eventually, they stop meaning anything.
Just as he feels he's falling, something drags him back. Words. Fast talking, music; he blinks, opens his eyes. His neck's stiff. The radio. Mikami has switched on the radio - it is twenty minutes, exactly, since he closed his eyes - Mikami has switched on the radio, and they're talking about him.
"- continuing the search for the six. NHN reports that two are American, and members of the disbanded US anti-Kira group, Special Provision for Kira. The other four are former Japanese police officers. One of the Americans is believed to have kidnapped a Kyoto lawyer, Teru Mikami -"
Gevanni sits up, looks round. His mind feels fresh and light and he's fully aware of how much shit he could now be in. Mikami is staring at him. He's gone white.
"You lied to me," he says.
"No -"
"You lied and you're lying now! You're trying to make me forget, you're trying to lead me into sin - and I believed -"
He's leaning round, scrabbling with the doorhandle. Gevanni's reached for his gun before he realises, is pointing it, is wondering what it would be like to drive for another twelve hours with a corpse as a passenger.
"Mikami," he says, "please listen."
Mikami actually smiles, miserably. "Of course. You're using force to make yourself righteous, just like everyone else."
"No. I just can't let you leave, do you understand? Listen to me!" He can't lose track of Mikami. (He'll get back to NHN. Give you away.) He can do this. He knows he can.
"I don't care if you kill me. It's better to die pure than to live in sin, I don't care -" Mikami's fingers scrabbling on the handle. It's only his shock that's stopped him fleeing.
"Listen!" Gevanni lets a angry edge creep into his voice, as if the way this situation plays out actually matters to him. Mikami stares at him, and Gevanni carries on, "Please." (All right, let's see how well you can act.) "I can't just let you walk back into danger. You're - you're my friend."
Silence. Mikami evidently wasn't expecting this. He's gone very still, his eyes darting over Gevanni's face, looking for lies.
"I don't have friends," he says.
"That's not what I said. I said I count you as a friend. I count you as someone whose sense of justice is strong enough that I can trust him completely. Someone who doesn't lie or act fake to get what they want. And I'm not going to let you get yourself killed now." (Corny.)
Mikami's mouth falls open and he gazes at Gevanni as confused and awed as if Gevanni's claiming he can do magic.
"But we never spoke," he says, slowly, hesitantly. "I swear I can't remember us ever talking."
Gevanni swallows, makes himself smile ruefully. "Yeah, I get that. You can't remember a lot. I'm not... I'm not angry about it. But I need to keep you safe."
"You could... you could just be saying this. To keep me on your side."
Credit where credit's due, the man's not an idiot. "What else can I do? I know I don't have any proof that what I'm saying is true. But we both know that Takada is controlling the media." (He's speaking quietly and calmly and he doesn't sound guilty, not guilty at all.) "Of course she wants to make it sound like we're all anti-Kira. Especially me, seeing as I'm not even Japanese. It might be that she wants to provoke this reaction, that she's trying to get you to come back here of your own accord. She knows how concerned you are to do the right thing."
Mikami watches him, wide-eyed. His hands, still on the door, have gone still.
"Please, Mikami-san," Gevanni says. "You don't know where you are. You can't drive, and you're still injured. And if you do make your way back to Takada, and she uses you to betray Kira, it won't just be her you'll need to run away from. Stick with me now, and there's only me. And I swear, we both want the same things."
Mikami is shaking a little.
"I know there's a lot of gaps in your memories. She can use those. She knows you."
"So do you," Mikami whispers.
"Yes. And you know me. Well, you did. You used to know you could trust me. It's your call, okay? It's who you trust more, me or Takada. But if you pick her -" (Sorry; pained) "Look, I don't want to shoot you. But I can't let you screw up the real Kira's chances. I can't - I can't let feelings come before doing what's right."
That's it, the killer blow. Because Mikami would be equally willing to destroy a friend if he believed it was justice. The man bites his lip, gives one last desperate glance out of the window, but then slumps, putting his face in his hands, breath shaking. In his head, Gevanni breathes a slow sigh of relief. He starts the car, and drives back onto the freeway. In the bigger picture, he may be screwed, but right now, he can convince himself he's still holding things together.
***
Mogi was worried that catching the train to Kansai was risky - if not because they'd be visible and observed, then because Misa might pick up a newspaper - but she didn't seem interested in investigating current events at all. He bought her a magazine, but she only flicked listlessly through it, spending most of her time staring out of the window. Her silence, coupled with her avoid-the-fans disguise - hair pulled back in a harsh ponytail, a pair of lensless glasses on her nose - makes her seem like someone else entirely, like Mogi has woken up suddenly to find himself travelling with a stranger.
They arrive mid-afternoon, but she insists on window-shopping, showing Mogi where she used to go for ice cream after school, where she once almost got caught shoplifting chocolate, where she got her ears pierced. As the sky gets darker and the air bites down on them, he feels her trembling, hears her voice grow higher and louder. She's obviously trying to put off visiting her sister, but even though he'd like to get off the streets and out of sight he hasn't the heart to force her. Besides, if anyone is following them, it will throw them off the scent as to their destination. Perhaps.
He tries to remind himself that this isn't about doing what's best for Misa, it's about defeating Kira and keeping the notebook away from him. Just because being kind to her may feel like the most important thing - and why should it, anyway, their relationship is entirely built on fake professionalism, why is he even thinking like this - the point is, feelings are not to be trusted now. What counts is quick thinking and practicality. He just wishes he had more of either quality.
"So your sister never left this area?" he says at one point.
"No." Misa is staring at a window display, folding the hem of her top into pleats as she does so. "She's a lot older than me, though. You know, more settled."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, she's twelve years older than me." A sudden smile as she giggles and winks at him: "She'll probably freak out when I turn up on her doorstep with my secret lover in tow! I can't wait to see her face."
Mogi hastily glances at the streetlight flickering against the sky, knowing he's blushing again. "If you think she won't be happy about it -"
He sees, out of the corner of his eye, Misa wave a dismissive hand. "Hey, if she won't let us stay with her we can find a hotel. At least -" She lowers her voice a bit, and he turns to look at her - "at least we're out of Tokyo, right? I mean - Mochi really thinks this is the right thing to do?"
Mogi makes himself look at her. "Yes." And he's almost sure it's not a lie.
Eventually, when all the shops have closed and Misa's hands are so cold that Mogi can feel the chilliness of her fingers even through his coat sleeve, she shrugs and says, "Hey, Mochi... I guess we should get going."
"Is your sister's home far?"
"Not so much."
She huddles into her coat now, silent, staring at her feet. The air's bitingly cold, and the streetlights blur and frost in the mist.
"Mochi's okay? Misa wanted to... to look round the town again."
"I'm okay." He wants to ask her why she's afraid, but he doesn't think he can. He's always preferred to pretend he isn't scared when something unnerving happens, and disliked it when someone draws attention to his unease. He can do Misa the same favour.
Her sister lives in an apartment not far from the city centre. The ceilings are low and the walls are thick, meaning that they walk through a corridor of silence. Misa walks more slowly, feet dragging, heels of her boots echoing tap tap on the bare floor.
""My sister might be rude to us," she says. "She's sort of... she sort of doesn't like me very much."
"Why not?"
"Ohh... when I left for Tokyo, we had a fight." She tosses her head a bit, her ponytail jumping. "You know. I sort of haven't actually talked to her much since."
"What did you fight about?"
"Things..." Misa sounds absent. She's got her back to Mogi now, pausing on the landing as if she's not sure of the route. "Kira. She'd just got divorced, you know? She was totally jealous of me because I was still young and had my whole life ahead of me. And I'm way prettier than her too."
"How - how does she feel about Kira?"
Misa shrugs. "I don't know. Don't care. She just had a massive fight with me for no reason. So, I'm just saying, she might say a bunch of stuff about me that isn't true. Or think I'm pretending about Raito, or something. Just... Mochi trusts me, right?"
"Of - of course."
Misa gives a triumphant grin, and turns back to face him.
"Yeah, I should have known," she says. "Mochi's a good guy."
She takes a few quick strides, stops outside one of the apartments, and rings the doorbell. They wait, her clutching his arm. She seems absent, now, as if she's remembering something else. Perhaps she isn't scared. Perhaps she's only remembering her childhood, her parents. It must be difficult for her, coming back, to Mogi's knowledge for the first time since the murders. He should stop seeing fear, weakness, where there might not be any. He'd only be looking for it so that he could protect her.
The door opens a little way, revealing one side of a woman's face. Thinner than Misa, clearly older, with a sharp mouth and straight dark hair tied back in a ponytail. She stares at them, her mouth falling open - blinks a few times. Then her face tightens.
"Why exactly are you here?" she says, at last, her voice stiff.
"Aww, come on, is that any way to say hi to me again? I mean it's been ages." Misa's nails are digging into Mogi's arm.
"For god's sake, Misa, stop trying to be charming and tell me why you're here." She looks tired, and angry, but under that there is an edge of fear. What's she scared of? "If - if you just dropped in for a visit, well, I'm sorry, but I'm very busy at the moment -"
"No, no, Fuyumi, wait, please -" Misa actually dives forward to stick her foot in the door. "Misa just wanted to see you again! Nothing bad's happened, I promise!" Her voice is growing higher with nerves. Fuyumi glances away from her, and meets Mogi's eyes. She looks suddenly furious; Mogi wonders if it's because this not-very-happy reunion is happening in front of a stranger. Whatever it might be, it's starting to look very much as though they'll have to give up on Fuyumi's hospitality if things continue as they are, so he steps forward a little, bows, lets himself sound like he very much wants to charm her. Lying is a bit easier when you're doing it in a voice that thinks it oozes charm. "My apologies for not introducing myself, Amane-san. My name is Kanichi Moji; I'm Misa-Misa's manager. It's very nice to meet you."
Fuyumi blinks. "Her manager? Really?"
"Of course really," Misa says. "Why do you have to be so rude?"
"Well, it's not like we've spoken recently. This guy could be anyone -"
"Oh, so now Misa's a slut, is that it -"
Mogi hastily takes one of the business cards he carries in his manager persona and presents it to Fuyumi, bowing again for good measure.
"See," Misa says smugly.
"Hm. All right. Pleased to meet you, Moji-san," Fuyumi says, but she doesn't look at him now, she keeps her eyes on Misa. "Now do tell me, how I can be of assistance to the famous Misa-Misa and her manager?"
"Well..." Misa glances coquettishly up at the ceiling. "Actually, Fuyumi, Misa actually needs a little bit of help..."
"Oh. Really."
"You see..." Misa is twisting her fingers round each other. "Misa kind of needs a place to stay."
"Excuse me?"
"Misa... I sort of had... had a fight..."
Her voice dries up. Mogi, glancing at her, sees that her mouth is trembling.
"What Misa-Misa would like to say," he says, gently, "is that she and her fiance have unfortunately had some differences, and she felt it was best to put some space between them."
"And, and too many people know both of us!" Misa says, smile brightening a little. "Him and I, I mean. So it just seemed really tough on him if I were to stay in Tokyo. Mochi kindly offered to go with me. You know, to keep me safe?"
"Really." Fuyumi glances from Misa to Mogi, frowns. Mogi wonders how nervous they're both looking; how desperate.
"What were these differences about?" Fuyumi asks, and her eyes dart down the corridor like she's expecting someone else to come down it.
"Oh... you don't need to know."
"What does that mean, exactly?" Fuyumi says, an edge of bitterness in her voice. "That if I did know, there's no way I'd let you over the doorstep?"
Mogi expects Misa to come back with another retort, but she only takes a deep, shaking breath and says, "It isn't - please, Fuyumi - it isn't anything bad, I just need your help..." Mogi thinks it's genuine. Misa's still clutching his arm like she's about to faint, at any rate.
Fuyumi stares at her and then all at once she steps back, lets the door swing open. As they walk inside, she quickly closes it, and Mogi sees that she puts the chain on.
"By the way," she says, running a hand through her hair like she's getting a headache already, "is Moji-san remaining with you, Misa, or did he just want to see you delivered here safely?"
"Mochi's my manager," Misa says. "He needs to stay with me. What if a call came in about a shoot? Besides, it's dark now."
"So you're in fact asking for me to put both of you up."
"Mochi is staying with me," Misa says, eyes narrowing. "He didn't have to come with me, but he did, because he's nice. I'm not telling him to go and find a hotel."
Fuyumi looks at him again, and he can see the questions in her face, but in the end she only shrugs, and, turning away, says, "Well, by all means make yourself at home. I'm sorry the place is so untidy, but if you had called ahead..."
The flat isn't, in fact, untidy at all, but it is very small, with kitchen area, rice cooker, television, and little bookcase crammed into the room they're now standing in. Misa's pulling her coat off, eyes darting round the room nervously.
"Will there be enough room for us both?" Mogi says. "Misa and I can always -"
"Don't be silly, Mochi, it'll be fine," Misa says. "Fuyumi will have some spare futons, we can just sleep here."
"Of course you will," Fuyumi says, and now she's staring at Misa's hand still on Mogi's arm. She looks scornful, but she doesn't look as frightened. Whatever she was fearing, it wasn't just that her sister was bringing a boyfriend home.
"For your information," Misa says, flicking her hair back, "Misa is happy to share a room with Mochi. When we're on location we share a room all the time. Misa can trust Mochi."
Mogi can feel himself blushing. It probably helps; probably makes it more convincing that what they're lying about is just an affair. He wishes he'd had a chance to look at the news; how much could Fuyumi know? She must be aware of Misa's old fascination with Kira. On the other hand, she hasn't brought it up outright, so perhaps that will buy them some time. Misa is clutching his arm even more, smirking at her sister; the gesture makes him think of how she behaves with Raito, and he's suddenly too hot, and too conscious of her fingers against his sleeve. It is a cover story, he thinks at himself, furiously, it is not real.
Fuyumi sighs - a short, sharp sigh - and snaps, "Do you know what, Misa? I don't care. You can do what you want. You always have before. I'll get some futons, and then I'll stay in my bedroom and the two of you can have privacy."
"Good," Misa says, snuggling against Mogi's arm a little. "That's all I wanted. Do you have any food?"
"We can get some takeaway," Mogi says hastily. "Amane-san is welcome to join us."
In the end Fuyumi does eat with them, not looking at either of them and giving a clear impression of cold fury without saying a word. Misa chatters away about celebrity parties and gossip columns, not seeming to mind that neither of her dinner companions are responding. After the meal has been finished and the cardboard containers tidied away, Fuyumi brings out futons and then disappears into the other room, saying over her shoulder as she does, "Don't keep me awake. I have work in the morning." But the door is only closed hard, not slammed. Mogi suspects Misa would have slammed it.
They lay out the futons and Misa goes into the bathroom to change into her nightclothes. When she comes back out, she seems more subdued, her hair loose and hanging round her face. She comes to sit down on her futon, huddles up with her knees pressed to her chest.
"Mochi hasn't got any pyjamas," she says at last.
"I... no. It's all right."
She giggles. "It's too cold to sleep nude, isn't it?" Her laughter trails off, though.
"Mochi," she says at last, "What will we do if... if they don't stop looking for us?"
Mogi considers the possible answers to that question, but all he can say is the truth: "I don't know."
"No." She smiles, sadly. "I guess not. Misa will sleep now, okay?"
"Sure."
But when the lights are off and they're both lying down, with the smell of the takeaway still hanging in the air and faint, washed-out moonlight on one wall, he hears her shifting about, sighing. The stupid parts of his mind tell him she's deliberately making her worry obvious, that she wants him to reassure her, but he knows that's ridiculous. She doesn't need his protection. She's reasonably good at protecting herself. Or, at any rate, employing enough determination to hide any fear she might be feeling. He has admired that about her, the way she will face down anything if it threatens something important to her, but at the same time he wants to know how scared she is underneath, whether she ever feels as nervous and awkward as he does, and, if so, how she covers it up.
"Raito can look after himself," he says softly, and it occurs to him that if he manages to survive this then that will suggest that Raito has been imprisoned; killed; neutralised, at any rate. And it'll destroy Misa. He feels a little sick. It isn't just that he's lying to her - he's using her, indirectly, to carry out her worst nightmare. He can ponder all he wants how dangerous Raito is and how bad he is for anyone close to him, but the fact remains that if he himself is going to end up on the winning side, Misa is going to end up devastated.
"I know," she says. "But Misa wants to look after him. He was hurt, you said. He could be on his own. And I'm just... hiding."
"This is what he'd want," Mogi says, feeding her the lines as if they're in a play. "He wants to know that you're all right."
"Yes," Misa says, nodding a little. "Yeah. I can be brave for him. Misa's always brave for him. I just..." She looks over at him; in the moonlight she looks very tired. "You see what she's like? You see what I had to put up with?"
Mogi keeps silent, and Misa smiles, a little. "Well. I guess I can't expect you to talk about her behind her back. She just... she thinks everything is my fault. If I did tell her what had happened, she wouldn't understand if was Kiyomi who did it, she'd say I should have seen it coming." A pause, then, as if she's decided to explain everything: "You know why? You know why she thinks that way? Because of what happened. I mean, with our parents. She assumes that if things go wrong, then it's somebody's fault. I mean... if things go wrong for you, it's your fault. She went on and on about how we should have - should have locked the back door that night. Like that's the important -" She stops; with an effort, she seems to pull herself together, curl up in the futon, hair hanging around her face. "How could I ever have brought Raito here? Raito's family are all so nice. He wouldn't want to deal with her. With all this stuff." Her voice shakes a little. "Misa doesn't really want to deal with it either."
Mogi badly wants to put an arm round her, or take her hand: do something comforting, because there's no way he'll be able to say anything. Except perhaps I am so sorry. He tries to keep breathing sensibly and he tells himself that Misa is not broken, that she's strong and that even if the worst happens she will come through it. And that it isn't as if he's the one responsible for her happiness anyway. Raito's the one who has that duty (who knows he has it and doesn't, Mogi suspects, really care.)
"She doesn't get it," Misa says, more quietly. "She thinks that if bad things happen to good people, it makes them bad. She doesn't see that... you know, bad people do the bad things and they're the ones whose fault it is. They're the ones who should be punished." She looks over at him; a shy smile. "It's okay, Misa doesn't like Kira any more. Misa likes what Raito likes."
It's like a light has been switched on and chased away the moonlight. Mogi manages a smile back, moves to pull the covers over himself, because for god's sake, what's wrong with him that he's thinking of Misa as the eternal victim in all of this? Misa came to Tokyo for a reason, and he and the rest of the task force are pretty sure they know what it was. He wonders if Fuyumi has some inkling, if that was why she seemed so nervous. At any rate, Misa has got away with any number of deaths. There's no reason he needs to be thinking of more things to offer her.
***
The sun has set; streetlights along the side of the road are lit up, cold white, the only things bright enough to be real.
Ide can feeling his brain trying to tell him it's okay to fall asleep. Well, it is, technically, seeing as Aizawa's the one driving; Matsuda has already given up the ghost and is curled up on the back seat, head half-under his jacket. But Aizawa looks just as tired as Ide feels and probably shouldn't be the only one awake. Dying in a car crash would be a ridiculous way to go, considering how many people are out to kill them.
"We should stop soon," he says instead.
"Don't be stupid."
Well, at least Aizawa's willing to talk to him. "I'm not. We can't drive all night."
"The longer we stop anywhere, the more dangerous it's going to be." Aizawa scowls at the radio, which is currently hissing out some idol singer's latest. "Not to mention if we stop and then they release photos - the NPA are happy to let them kidnap people, they'll be fine with providing ID of us as soon as Raito asks -"
"Then we should stop while we still know it's safe. You look done in."
"I've had enough of your concern for my welfare, all right?" Aizawa snaps.
For god's sake. Ide doesn't want another fight, but he lets Aizawa see his contempt for that remark before he turns away, stares out of the window at the dark banks rushing past them.
They've said pretty much nothing since the discussion this morning. Ide tells himself he prefers it that way, he doesn't need people having a go at him for trying to help, but the silence filling the car has left him with lots of space to think about their situation and how bad it is. Oh, and to listen to NHN, and to the constant clips of Eriko's plea that keep getting repeated. Aizawa's gone paler and paler and once or twice Ide thought he was actually going to lose it right then and there, do a U-turn in the middle of the motorway and start heading back the way they'd come. He didn't, of course, but he spoke less and less and so Ide and Matsuda found themselves not speaking either.
We just have to deal with it. Nothing's happened yet. Nothing really bad.
Matsuda's sleepy voice echoes over the sound of the engine: "Hey... there's a sign for a hotel..." He sounds almost pleading. He probably wants out of the car and its atmosphere as much as Ide does.
"Come on," Ide says. "Even if we don't stay there, we can get something to eat that isn't freeze-dried."
Aizawa shrugs, turns off the motorway. He slumps, as if he's too tired to argue any more. Ide wonders if now is a good time to have a sensible conversation about their course of action, but quickly rejects that idea. He suspects if Aizawa isn't angry, he'll be despairing. And besides, he's emotional, he's not thinking straight. They can talk about what to do after they've all had some sleep. Assuming things don't get even worse.
In the end, they do book rooms - Ide suspects that Aizawa realises how exhausted he is once he stops the car - and buy food from the cheap restaurant on the other side of the forecourt. Aizawa eats quickly, ignoring them, and, when he's finished, he says, "I'm going to bed," and has walked away before either of them can speak. Ide resists the urge to scowl after him, but his thoughts mutter away anyway: just so he can take the moral high ground - wants to make himself into a martyr - I'm concerned about all of us, not just myself - he'd wanted to help -
Without Aizawa there the silence should feel less oppressive, but it doesn't. Although it doesn't help that it's probably too risky to make small talk. Ide eats without tasting the food, which is overcooked and salty. Matsuda is picking at his meal, pushing it round the plate. He looks worn out, worn down, and certainly like he didn't sleep at all last night.
"You're not a child," Ide says at last, more for something, anything, to say than because he cares.
Matsuda shrugs. "It's the driving all day. It..." He doesn't bother to finish the sentence, just pushes his plate away. Then, abruptly, he says, "Look, I... I'm going to have a drink. You can - you can go on up if you want."
Oh, I see, you think I'm scum too. Being rejected by Matsuda of all people stings more than it should. God, he really has been spending too much time on this case.
"A drink sounds good," he says. "I'll join you."
This is stupid. They can't really afford to waste the time, the money, or the thinking faculties. Not to mention every second they're out in public is another second where someone could become suspicious of them. Aizawa would think they were both idiots -
Yeah, all right, have a go at me for wanting to sort this out rather than putting up with it -
Except he didn't, he didn't just want to sort it out, he only took the papers out of a half-formed sense of paranoia that they'd regret separating themselves from the notebook, he said before that using the notebook would be wrong and it is, it's just - if you've got no choice - Aizawa won't be able to take this for long, and for god's sake if Takada does try and push him she must know he might retaliate this way? Ide could do it and Aizawa would be furious but he wouldn't be able to say he wasn't happy with the outcome -
Matsuda has returned with their drinks. The stuff is cheap and sour and no better than the food was, but it's warm and slightly satisfying at least. Ide drinks and finds himself wondering what it would be like to get up from the table and then collapse and die of a heart attack, sprawled across the cheap, faintly stained carpet. Bright lights and unfamiliar faces and - the certain knowledge that this was it, that it wouldn't matter how fast an ambulance arrived or what a doctor did, you were going to die and that was it -
He can't tell if he suddenly wants to get the papers out and scrawl Raito and Takada's names across them or if the idea of touching any part of the notebook makes him feel sick. Either way, he wishes he hadn't started this thought. He downs the remains of his drink and gets to his feet. "Let's go."
He expects Matsuda to make a crack about people being boring or whatever, but Matsuda doesn't; he just looks up, resigned, like Ide just called him out on some mistake he knew he couldn't get away with. A few more desultory sips, and he gets to his feet.
Outside it seems even colder; their breath clouds around them, and mist has built up around the streetlights. Matsuda is still silent; walking a little way ahead, his arms wrapped round himself. Ide is annoyed to notice reality receding a little, like it sometimes does when he's drunk, like nothing really matters and nothing he does will make any difference. Normally it only happens after he's drunk quite a bit more, but doing nothing all day but sit in a car seems to be killing his appetite and he was sleepy and paranoid enough as it is. Get a grip. Just get a grip. If you drank enough, you could probably forget what you were doing when you wrote down a name. As far as he knows, none of the Kiras took that route. Still, perhaps if you've decided to use the notebook, you owe it to your victim to at least off them while coherent enough to know exactly what you're doing. The method of murder is so easy, you can't get much better, so you'd have to be a real coward to want to get plastered still -
Their room is different from last night's and yet, of course, the same in all respects: thin, pressed sheets; flat-pack furniture; regular squares on the ceiling. Chilly, as well; the battered radiator in the corner turns the air around it lukewarm. Matsuda hurries past Ide and sits down on one of the beds, kicking off his shoes.
"I'm... I'm really tired," he says. "I think I'll just... just sleep. If you want to watch TV or something, that's cool, but I'm just going to... to..."
Ide knows that they are both tired and that discussing the situation won't make them feel any better and Matsuda doesn't have to make conversation with him, but the drink's evidently confused the adult part of his mind enough for him to snap, "If you think I'm a psychopath for having those pages, why don't you just come out and say it?"
"I don't think that," Matsuda says, too loudly.
"Just can't bear to say a word to me. Hey, I can swap with Aizawa for tonight, you two can spend the whole night discussing how morally reprehensible you think I am."
Matsuda doesn't answer; he just stares at the floor, picks at a loose seam on his jacket. Ide wants him to argue, or even to agree, so that he himself can put across his point of view and prove to everyone that he's not some kind of murderous lunatic and he was trying to help, that's all, just because he thought of taking the pages doesn't make him no better than Raito, it doesn't - but Matsuda just keeps quiet and that makes Ide even angrier.
"You're such a hypocrite," he says, and his voice sounds harsh and vicious. "You admitted you support Kira. You pretty much thought he was right, it was just because of the Chief that you stuck around." Matsuda still doesn't answer, and Ide carries on, "Or is it because it's Raito? If it were anyone else you'd be happy to let them die, but Raito's different, Raito's special -"
"Leave me alone," Matsuda says. He sounds angrier than Ide has ever heard him but so what, why should Ide be the only one feeling pissed off with the world?
He says, "And Aizawa thought I was trying to push important decisions on to other people."
"You didn't ask me what I thought! And if I'd told you, you'd have just called me an idiot anyway like you always do!" Matsuda is shaking. "I don't care, all right? You can do what you like. I don't give a damn what happens to Raito. I don't care."
"Liar. You want him dead just as much as I do. You shot at him enough times back at the warehouse, did you really think none of those were going to be fatal?"
Matsuda draws a breath like the air's been knocked out of him, and Ide can feel his heart thumping, he could say anything now he's feeling like this, but he is sick of no one backing him up. After a few seconds Matsuda stammers, "That wasn't - and I didn't kill him, I didn't want to kill him - and so what, anyway? I said, right now I don't even care -"
"Why don't you just admit it? You don't want him dead because you still want him to be your friend. At least Aizawa is trying to take the moral high ground."
Matsuda's head snaps up and he says, voice shaking, "That's not true."
"Yeah, right." Ide is wishing he hadn't said it - it's a stupid remark, the sort of thing a high school girl would say. But he's not backing down, he's not going to be in the wrong, not this time. "You don't care about the morality of it all, you just want it to be that Raito's a good guy. That's why you kept going on about - about giving ourselves up. You actually want to see him be merciful."
Matsuda is on his feet suddenly and he is shaking but he doesn't seem scared, he is angry, and he locks eyes with Ide and then all at once he's saying, "You - you want Raito dead? Why don't you go ahead and do it?" Gasps for breath between each sentence. "I'll be on your side so we'll - we'll outvote Aizawa and save everyone - why don't you just kill him? He deserves it, doesn't he?"
Ide feels triumph roar through his veins and he is reaching to his inside jacket pocket and he - he will, just - just to prove -
What the hell are you doing?
He thinks he's going to throw up, so close, so fucking close - how easy it would have been to scrawl down a name just to win an argument, for god's sake -
Matsuda's gone still, and so pale he looks like he might actually faint.
"Don't -" he says at last. The words are shaken out of him. "Stop - I didn't mean it - oh, god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it -"
"I'm not going to." Ide can hear his own voice sounding unsteady. If he'd just lost his temper for a few more minutes...
Matsuda doesn't seem to hear him. He stumbles forward, closes the gap between them. "You were going to - I just said it because - you were actually going to do it - I didn't mean -"
"I wasn't! I just... I was just..." His own voice trails off. I was just going to do it to piss you off. That's even worse than wanting to kill them before they kill you. That's - god, what the hell is wrong with him? How could he have even considered being so stupid?
"I know, I know..." Matsuda's voice is high and unsteady. "It wasn't... you didn't mean... we were just... I was just mad with... I just wanted to show that..." He sounds shaky enough that Ide puts a hand out to him in case he is actually going to keel over. Matsuda grabs at it and then suddenly he is right up against Ide and he is kissing him.
It's so bizarre, and it follows something so unexpected and horrible, that for at least a couple of seconds Ide doesn't do anything, just stands there (scared, just wanting to cling on to someone, needing not to be on his own -)
Of course almost immediately his brain catches up with events and he jerks back and snaps, "What the hell are you doing?"
"Don't you..." Matsuda's voice trails off. "I just thought maybe it would - help."
"Why? Why would it help anything?" Ide is angry now - this is probably some stupid romantic thing Matsuda saw on TV and wanted to, to try as a joke - like they don't have better things to worry about, like lack of romance is at all important right now - "You don't just go round doing that!"
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, I just... I just misread stuff. That's all." Matsuda tries to laugh, but it doesn't work. "Just forget it -"
"No, that doesn't explain it at all. What stuff could you possibly misread?" Ide feels hot and embarrassed and stupid and still sick from almost writing down a name and he's almost tempted to walk out of the door and spend the night in the hotel foyer. Or punch Matsuda just to make sure someone else feels worse than him. Although Matsuda already sounds worse than him, desperate for his own crazy version of normal.
"Well... you know," he's saying now, "you're... like that, so I thought..."
Ide has to wonder if he's dreaming this. Either that or his colleague has actually snapped under the strain of the last few days.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You've never had a girlfriend!" Matsuda's folded his arms, is huddled away, but he snaps the words back over his shoulder. "You've never dated anyone and you don't even seem to notice girls, you even said - and you're, what, nearly forty and you act like you've never going to get married -"
"I didn't notice you keeping tabs on my entire romantic history to date," Ide begins, and then stops, not sure what else to say. Generally, he doesn't notice girls. Women. Because he's got more important things to think about, like work or whatever.
He doubts mentioning this to Matsuda will help the situation. Matsuda probably can't conceive of a situation where work takes priority over anything.
"Well, why aren't you married, then?" Matsuda says. He sounds like a more overtly spiteful version of most of Ide's immediate family, a comparison that's irritating and ridiculous in equal measure. On the other hand, he isn't family and so Ide can snap back, "Because I haven't met the right person yet!" and not have to worry about sounding overly defensive. He is being defensive. Matsuda is pretty much insulting him to his face! "And, in case you'd forgotten, I've spent the last six years trying to hunt down a serial killer!" Whom we just nearly killed. No, he doesn't want to go back to talking about Kira. "Anyway, if your love life's so much better than mine, why exactly did you just make a move on me? It seems a little desperate, right? Even for you."
"Because - I don't know."
"Oh, for god's sake. You must have some idea."
"It beats hiding in hotel rooms and watching NHN and thinking about how we're all going to die, all right?" Matsuda slumps down on the bed again, directing his words to the floor. "You wouldn't know this, but making out with people is actually kind of fun. Or it's a distraction, anyway." He looks up. "I wasn't... I wasn't laughing at you because you don't have a girlfriend or whatever. I just always thought... I didn't think I needed to ask."
He actually sounds like he means it - or even if he doesn't, Ide feels reassured that they now both look equally stupid.
"Well," he says, "it might have been advisable to check first."
"I know, all right? I messed up and I'm sorry but I wasn't trying to... it wasn't... oh god, Ide, don't tell Aizawa, seriously -"
"Of course I'm not going to tell Aizawa!" Ide comes to sit down on the other bed, rests his head on his hands until the nausea at the thought of Aizawa finding out about this has faded. "I'm not going to tell anyone. I don't talk to people about things like that." He can still feel the print of Matsuda's mouth on his. He sort of wants to rub it away. It's distracting, more than it should be.
Matsuda doesn't answer and Ide suddenly feels sorry for him. It can't be much fun to proposition someone and have them yell at you. Even if Matsuda was an idiot to think anything would happen. He can't work out how the other man would even picture the two of them - being intimate. It's a completely ridiculous idea, and he's only considering it at the moment out of fascinated curiosity about how it would even work. He still feels too hot, too jumpy. Matsuda's right, anything beats being alone with your fears right now.
"Well... have you done this before?" he says.
"What, kissed people?"
"Kissed - kissed men, you idiot."
Matsuda shifts, stares back at the floor. Ide decides to take the silence as a yes.
"Right," he says. He's tempted to ask who Matsuda might have kissed, but figures that will rather undercut his own assertion that he doesn't talk about stuff like this. Not to mention that if it turns out to be someone they both know, that will be two people he can no longer look at in the same way.
Assuming he ever makes it back to home and to work and has the luxury of awkwardness at other people's romantic interactions being the biggest thing he has to worry about.
The curiosity from earlier is growing, in line with the usual awareness that he might well be dead by the end of the week. In his head it's like he's remembering something Matsuda never said: it must suck for you, knowing you'll never have a great romance now before you die. And it's not even true, he doesn't want great romance, he thinks it's stupid, but... he's spent his entire life being sensible and controlled and - normal, and this is his reward, to die of a heart attack, quite possibly after some lunatic's done his best to make him give up a few key pieces of information? It's not fair is a ridiculous retort to anything, but it's true. He would never normally even think of responding to Matsuda's suggestion, because it would be stupid and embarrassing and inappropriate - but where has avoiding stupidity got him, now? He is so sick of trying to be responsible...
"If... if you want," he says, his mouth suddenly dry, oh god, what am I doing, but at the same time go on, just say it, just - "I mean... I'm not interested, but... if you do want, you might as well... seeing as we'll both be dead in a few days, what the hell does it matter?"
Matsuda's head snaps up and he stares through the darkness.
"But it goes no further than this, all right?"
"All right," Matsuda whispers, and gets to his feet, comes to sit next to him.
For a moment Ide thinks he's being expected to be the one to act and he is suddenly appalled at what the hell he thinks he's doing - but the next second, Matsuda is kissing him again, and any determination to behave sensibly is disrupted by the recollection of how strange kissing is, not least because of how it makes him warm all over. And the warmth tingles in his skin and damn it, this might never happen to him again, and so he pulls Matsuda close, wanting to feel someone else all over him, and Matsuda sighs happily and kisses at his throat, which Ide doesn't think anyone's ever done to him before. It should be annoying, like being tickled, it is annoying, but it's flickering breathless annoyance that stops being something negative the stronger it grows.
At some point Matsuda breaks a kiss to scramble more onto the bed and Ide moves out of the way of his feet and they end up lying down, lying against each other, and Matsuda's hands, no longer chilly from the night air, are clutching at Ide's back and then at his shirt and then, hesitantly, up under his clothes. But by this point Ide's realising how much he is getting out of this and how he will be more annoyed with Matsuda than he has ever been before in his life if it stops and, not thinking now, just wanting, just doing, he presses close, trying to shake off the warmth, scratch an itch, and on the edge of his consciousness he notices Matsuda's arousal and somehow the realisation that his colleague is finding this at least somewhat enjoyable, isn't just doing it to humour Ide, sends a shudder of triumph through him - that things are different, that there is no earthly reason for him to be doing this, that right now nothing can stop him making them both feel good. This is ridiculous and unnatural and completely out-of-character for him, but right now he doesn't care.
[Chapter 3 on Fanfiction.net]
[Chapter 3 on Skyehawke.com]
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Date: 2011-10-31 10:21 pm (UTC)Oh Ide. You're ... kind of an idiot. *hugs poor Matsuda* I love how messed up and confused and angry and everyone is getting more and more confused. Poor things.
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Date: 2011-11-01 07:27 pm (UTC)The thing about Ide is... he's an idiotThank you for reading, as always! :D
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Date: 2011-11-01 02:18 am (UTC)and closeness of intimacy is one of the few things that they can still have, safely. And Ide's opening up and the arguments and everything.
And I love how Mogi is acknowledging what Misa has more than likely done as part of his struggle with (possibly) being attracted to her. That doesn't seem to be acknowledged quite enough in fanfiction.
And I was a little scared for Gevanni. Mikami might not be at his physical best but he has, potentially, Takada on his side, and he is Japanese, so it's a little easier for him.
And isn't Lidner still out there looking for Mello?
Can't wait for the next chapter.
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Date: 2011-11-01 07:26 pm (UTC)I don't think canon really acknowledges it much really... I had to remind myself it would, you know, actually be quite a big deal for Mogi!
*pats Gevanni*
Lidner is definitely still out there! I haven't forgotten her.
Thank you very much for the comment and I'm glad you liked the chapter! ^____^
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Date: 2011-11-03 10:25 am (UTC)That's true, and I think that was because they decided to shove her aside in the manga to concentrate on other things, and trouble is, even apart from all the sexist implications that holds, it means that there's a lot of moral/ethical dissonance regarding her character. I think Mogi would care about that, even if he had a soft spot.
Oh, I didn't think you'd forgotten her. It's just that I like the format you have with the different subplots that are all interwoven and I realised that it will only grow thicker, still. Unless Lidner's trail goes cold or she dies, but we'll have to see.
You're welcome! :)
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Date: 2011-11-05 10:41 am (UTC)Things will get more interwoven, hopefully! I'm glad you like the format ^^