Two drabbles~

Both were written for fanfic_bakeoff's first challenge. Prompt was "Catch"

Title: Hack
Fandom: Death Note
Characters: Matt/Mello
Author: Gakusei
Word Count: 300
Rating: PG13 for pottymouth
Summary: Mello is sick. Matt thinks it's gross. All encompassed in 300 words.




The small nightstand just to the left of the small, dormitory-style bed is littered with wadded-up tissues; some far more used than others. It has become a base for biological warfare, really, and Matt stares at it in mild discomfort. He's too afraid to sleep in the bed on the other side, too afraid that one may just...slip onto his pillow and then he'll be as sick as Mello; with his running nose and glassy eyes.

His cough sounds like hell; like it comes from deep in his chest and picks up every disgusting piece of phlegm on the way up before emerging from his mouth.

“You knew he was sick.”

“I don't give a shit! You pass up a chance to hug L.”

“I did.”

“Fuck off.”

Matt wants to. He does. But deep down, he's afraid that the minute he walks out of this room, the blonde will start hacking again and shit, this time he might just choke. He's already come close enough four times, to the point where the other was forced to suck in his breath and hold it as he delivered firm slaps to his friend's upper back to help dislodge the scum from his throat.

“You don't hafta stay, you know.”

“Yeah...” Matt moves to the furthest corner of the room and sinks down against the wall, pulling out his Gameboy. He wants to grab a pillow, but shit. That might be infected, too. “Don't wanna go out there, though. Brats runnin' around.”

“Pansy.”

“Suck-up.” He ignores whatever Mello's retort is by focusing on the screen. He doesn't care for Pokemon Red, but the rest of his games are in that drawer, with the snotty tissues blocking them like a fucking barricade of disease.

---

Title: Cause and Effect
Author: Gakusei
Series: Death Note
Characters: Near/Mello
Rating: G? PG?
Word Count: 300
A/N: This is my first time writing Near, ever. *amused*



“Hey! Catch!”

The shoe hits his back with a hard thump and Near instinctually shifts away the item, eyes fixed on the puzzle just beside his feet. There is no picture, no grand end result. All of the pieces are white in order to ensure that Near does not have the upper hand by picking out those with similar colors and group them together.

He almost considers it cheating.

Without the desired response, Mello exhales an audible huff and stomps back off into the corridor; socked feet making little padding sounds on the hardwood flooring.

The next day is the same; the only addition being the term “dipshit” added to the end of the blonde’s request to catch the book thrown at him. This time, Near is expecting it and dodges it easily, fixing the other with a blank, unamused stare before returning to setting up his dominoes. If seen from above, they form the image of a hand. Near isn’t sure exactly as to why he decided on a hand. Perhaps it was only a picture that came to his mind and he is overanalyzing. After all, they are only toys.

Mello wants his attention. He knows. The daily assault with a single object and the subsequent stalking off when attention is not given makes it obvious. He wonders if Mello realizes that he wears his intentions like a brightly colored costume, stealing all of the breath from the room with it.

The toy soldiers are lined up: two on the left, two on the right. One hides behind a domino on the north end while the south remains unprotected. And in the middle, there is a formation of three, each facing the outlining groups.

One day, he will be L. And he will make minor bullying a criminal offense.