DN -- Observation
Title: Observation
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Characters: Matt, Mello
Rating: G
Word Count: 188
Warnings: none
Summary: They both need a moment to breathe.
Author's Note: There was a guy smoking across the street. I watched him for a second, and then I sat down and wrote this. XD
OBSERVATION
Mello pushed his computer aside, stood, arched his back, and cracked his knuckles. His neck made a series of slightly alarming popping sounds as he tilted his head to one side and then to the other.
He wandered to the dark square of the window, the blue-black night cut by neon streetlights and pale façades fading out of being. The Venetian blinds were so cracked and broken from the baking sun and the blithe neglect that he wondered why nobody had thrown them away; absently he remembered the halfhearted shelter the paltry things offered from dawns that hunted down a pair of fitfully-sleeping boys altogether too soon. Through the broken shuttering and the hostile angles of the fire escape, he looked idly at the sidewalk five floors below.
Orange flared hotly, a misplaced, misguided star stranded in the broad brushstrokes of the shadows. White smoke fled red lips, huddled for a moment in the stagnant air, and then dissipated and was gone.
Mello closed his eyes, clasped his crucifix, and prayed to God and every saint he knew that Mail Jeevas would make it out of this alive.
Collection: The Margins
Fandom: Death Note
Characters: Matt, Mello
Rating: G
Word Count: 188
Warnings: none
Summary: They both need a moment to breathe.
Author's Note: There was a guy smoking across the street. I watched him for a second, and then I sat down and wrote this. XD
OBSERVATION
Mello pushed his computer aside, stood, arched his back, and cracked his knuckles. His neck made a series of slightly alarming popping sounds as he tilted his head to one side and then to the other.
He wandered to the dark square of the window, the blue-black night cut by neon streetlights and pale façades fading out of being. The Venetian blinds were so cracked and broken from the baking sun and the blithe neglect that he wondered why nobody had thrown them away; absently he remembered the halfhearted shelter the paltry things offered from dawns that hunted down a pair of fitfully-sleeping boys altogether too soon. Through the broken shuttering and the hostile angles of the fire escape, he looked idly at the sidewalk five floors below.
Orange flared hotly, a misplaced, misguided star stranded in the broad brushstrokes of the shadows. White smoke fled red lips, huddled for a moment in the stagnant air, and then dissipated and was gone.
Mello closed his eyes, clasped his crucifix, and prayed to God and every saint he knew that Mail Jeevas would make it out of this alive.