twenty-first post; fanfic- haruka tooko na mo shiranu machi e tsutau.
title: haruka tooko na mo shiranu machi e tsutau.
characters: Badou, Mello, Yoite- before his growth spurt, before he's completely learned Kira.
summary: letters to god and the ocean. part two of adsklas
sono tegami wa kitto
moji wo ukabe todoku deshou
haruka tooku na mo shiranu machi e tsutau
"Badou," Mello says, "Yoite, we're leaving." It's been three days since Badou brought Yoite home. Yoite's German isn't excellent, but it's definitely passable. Badou knows maybe three words in Japanese. Mello, then, is the official go-between.
Yoite is sitting at the dining table, eating oatmeal. His feet don't even reach the floor. "How old are you?" Badou had asked, but Yoite hadn't answered.
He's fifteen. He looks like he's eight.
Badou stares at Mello, and then sighs and lets his head drop to the table. Fuck's sake, these goddamn kids.
(If it had been another year, Yoite would think of Yukimi, watching that.)
--
"What-" Yoite starts softly; he means to say, 'What do you mean, we're leaving?' His eyes are wide and afraid and his lips are parted. Then he wakes up.
"Damnit, Mello," Badou says, as if it's an announcement; it might as well be, from the way he's turning an unlit cigarette between his fingers, waving it as if he's conducting. It doesn't stay unlit for long. Nicotine and something akin to motion sickness are overwhelming Yoite's senses; he pulls his legs to his chest, covers his ears with his little hands, and coughs against his knees.
"I know, I know," Mello snaps, and then his voice goes considerably softer as he rattles off something in Japanese to Yoite.
It's surprising, that Mello's good at this.
--
Yoite is very calm when he cries. His lips part and his eyes water and then overflow and tears run down his cheeks, and sometimes his breathing hitches, and every so often he shivers, but he cries as if it's second nature (is afraid as if it's second nature), and so as much as it stings his eyes, and as tight as it makes his throat, and as sick as it makes his little stomach feel, he's calm.
Badou thinks it's the weirdest thing ever to watch. People usually hide their tears, or make them fully known. Yoite is just...
Yoite is so resigned.
"We're in Maine," Mello says, and draws back the curtains from the window. "America, Yoite."
"America," Yoite murmurs. He turns his face to the side, and rubs slowly at his damp cheek with his wrist. "All right."
--
There's a piano in the little house they've landed in, and Badou hadn't actually noticed it until he'd run into it. "The fuck?" he'd said, "We have a piano?"
"I guess we do," Mello said, and went on his way. He didn't seem to care.
Yoite and Badou stared at it, and then looked at each other for a moment.
--
Next morning, Badou leaves the bedroom after being woken up by As and Ds and keys, and he rubs his eye and stands in the hallway and watches Mello play the piano.
"I didn't know you played that," he says, but he's ignored; Mello is concentrating, and Yoite is sitting on the corner of the piano bench, next to Mello.
His big blue eyes are fascinated. It's the farthest from scared he's looked in a long time.
Badou watches, almost stares, as the morning light slants across, hits keys and skin (ivory and milk and tan) and Mello's eyes.
"Damn," Badou murmurs. It's a good sight. He could get used to this, to waking up to - these two.
Yoite is fascinated.
--
After that, Badou wants to go out to the sea. Yoite's never been, which is why they head out; it's chilly, they don't expect to swim, but Badou brings bottles - beer and soda - and a notebook and a pen. Mello's suspicious.
"What are you doing with those?" he asks, but Badou sticks his nose in the air and relishes a moment of knowing something that Mello doesn't.
Yoite watches curiously as Mello slaps Badou, but doesn't say anything. (That's normal.)
The sand and pebbles are cool. Mello and Yoite keep their shoes on, but Badou doesn't. "Come on, you guys!" he says, and runs toward the water. His hair is wild in the salty air and he looks like a cardinal as he goes. Mello laughs.
Yoite watches that curiously, too.
--
The soda tickles Yoite's nose too much, to where he squints and grimaces and splutters a little, and Badou laughs, and Mello sighs and tells him shortly in Japanese to wipe his face. Badou finishes the soda, and washes all of the bottles out with seawater.
"Hey," he says, "Hey, look, I have this idea. Let's write messages and put 'em in a bottle. Y'know. Message in a bottle."
"Why?" Mello says, and Badou just says, "Because it's fun," and he sits down on the beach and scribbles something out on the paper.
Mello doesn't end up sending a bottle, but Badou and Yoite do. "Come on," was all the coaxing it took; Yoite didn't mind.
'We're writing to God,' he thinks, when he sees his bottle toss about with Badou's on the waves.
Badou's says,
mello you're a dumb fuck and i didn't think youd put a message in anyway but that's okay i guess
just figured i'd say you're a good kid
love badou
Yoite's says,
I wish I could play the piano.
I wish I didn't exist.
--
It's something.
You'll definitely deliver your letter
As the characters in it float about
Walking along to a far away city, that you don't know the name of
characters: Badou, Mello, Yoite- before his growth spurt, before he's completely learned Kira.
summary: letters to god and the ocean. part two of adsklas
sono tegami wa kitto
moji wo ukabe todoku deshou
haruka tooku na mo shiranu machi e tsutau
"Badou," Mello says, "Yoite, we're leaving." It's been three days since Badou brought Yoite home. Yoite's German isn't excellent, but it's definitely passable. Badou knows maybe three words in Japanese. Mello, then, is the official go-between.
Yoite is sitting at the dining table, eating oatmeal. His feet don't even reach the floor. "How old are you?" Badou had asked, but Yoite hadn't answered.
He's fifteen. He looks like he's eight.
Badou stares at Mello, and then sighs and lets his head drop to the table. Fuck's sake, these goddamn kids.
(If it had been another year, Yoite would think of Yukimi, watching that.)
--
"What-" Yoite starts softly; he means to say, 'What do you mean, we're leaving?' His eyes are wide and afraid and his lips are parted. Then he wakes up.
"Damnit, Mello," Badou says, as if it's an announcement; it might as well be, from the way he's turning an unlit cigarette between his fingers, waving it as if he's conducting. It doesn't stay unlit for long. Nicotine and something akin to motion sickness are overwhelming Yoite's senses; he pulls his legs to his chest, covers his ears with his little hands, and coughs against his knees.
"I know, I know," Mello snaps, and then his voice goes considerably softer as he rattles off something in Japanese to Yoite.
It's surprising, that Mello's good at this.
--
Yoite is very calm when he cries. His lips part and his eyes water and then overflow and tears run down his cheeks, and sometimes his breathing hitches, and every so often he shivers, but he cries as if it's second nature (is afraid as if it's second nature), and so as much as it stings his eyes, and as tight as it makes his throat, and as sick as it makes his little stomach feel, he's calm.
Badou thinks it's the weirdest thing ever to watch. People usually hide their tears, or make them fully known. Yoite is just...
Yoite is so resigned.
"We're in Maine," Mello says, and draws back the curtains from the window. "America, Yoite."
"America," Yoite murmurs. He turns his face to the side, and rubs slowly at his damp cheek with his wrist. "All right."
--
There's a piano in the little house they've landed in, and Badou hadn't actually noticed it until he'd run into it. "The fuck?" he'd said, "We have a piano?"
"I guess we do," Mello said, and went on his way. He didn't seem to care.
Yoite and Badou stared at it, and then looked at each other for a moment.
--
Next morning, Badou leaves the bedroom after being woken up by As and Ds and keys, and he rubs his eye and stands in the hallway and watches Mello play the piano.
"I didn't know you played that," he says, but he's ignored; Mello is concentrating, and Yoite is sitting on the corner of the piano bench, next to Mello.
His big blue eyes are fascinated. It's the farthest from scared he's looked in a long time.
Badou watches, almost stares, as the morning light slants across, hits keys and skin (ivory and milk and tan) and Mello's eyes.
"Damn," Badou murmurs. It's a good sight. He could get used to this, to waking up to - these two.
Yoite is fascinated.
--
After that, Badou wants to go out to the sea. Yoite's never been, which is why they head out; it's chilly, they don't expect to swim, but Badou brings bottles - beer and soda - and a notebook and a pen. Mello's suspicious.
"What are you doing with those?" he asks, but Badou sticks his nose in the air and relishes a moment of knowing something that Mello doesn't.
Yoite watches curiously as Mello slaps Badou, but doesn't say anything. (That's normal.)
The sand and pebbles are cool. Mello and Yoite keep their shoes on, but Badou doesn't. "Come on, you guys!" he says, and runs toward the water. His hair is wild in the salty air and he looks like a cardinal as he goes. Mello laughs.
Yoite watches that curiously, too.
--
The soda tickles Yoite's nose too much, to where he squints and grimaces and splutters a little, and Badou laughs, and Mello sighs and tells him shortly in Japanese to wipe his face. Badou finishes the soda, and washes all of the bottles out with seawater.
"Hey," he says, "Hey, look, I have this idea. Let's write messages and put 'em in a bottle. Y'know. Message in a bottle."
"Why?" Mello says, and Badou just says, "Because it's fun," and he sits down on the beach and scribbles something out on the paper.
Mello doesn't end up sending a bottle, but Badou and Yoite do. "Come on," was all the coaxing it took; Yoite didn't mind.
'We're writing to God,' he thinks, when he sees his bottle toss about with Badou's on the waves.
Badou's says,
mello you're a dumb fuck and i didn't think youd put a message in anyway but that's okay i guess
just figured i'd say you're a good kid
love badou
Yoite's says,
I wish I could play the piano.
I wish I didn't exist.
--
It's something.
You'll definitely deliver your letter
As the characters in it float about
Walking along to a far away city, that you don't know the name of