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Summary
Rico asks, casual, what Mello will want next, what he’ll aim for after he gets the notebook, and suddenly it’s like the ground has dropped out from underneath him, because the first thing that comes to mind is Near. His stomach sinks as he tries to regain some semblance of composure, fighting off imaginings both tender and cruel, furious with himself for being so weak-minded. Near, he thinks forcefully, is in the past. He isn’t an option for what’s to come— and even if he was, Mello wouldn’t want him.
(He wouldn’t.)
(He wouldn’t.)
(God. He can’t even convince himself anymore.)
Series
- Part 3 of i want to hold you (hostage)
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Bookmark Notes:
goodness gracious, food so scrumptious i cried
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Bookmark Notes:
the grand finale meronia fic of all time. to me
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Bookmark Notes:
“Are you overwhelmed again?” Mello tips his head up to put his lips next to Near’s ear. “Is it too much for you?”
A short, shaky huff from Near. “D-don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m not,” Mello purrs. “I’m making fun of you.”
Get married now.
“You aren’t going to find someone else.” Mello pulls back just enough to glare. “When I get you to LA, I’ll tie you to the bed and fuck you ‘til you cry.”
“O-oh,” Near rasps, “we’ve changed tense. You will. Not w-would.”
Im trying to guess how much he would actually object to that. Not entirely at least.
“Maybe they’ll look for you themselves. Maybe. But I’m not gonna let them find you. And let’s face it— after a month or two everyone’ll think you’re dead. They’ll move on, and you’ll still be with me.”
“With you,” Near echoes quietly. A note of longing shines through his flat delivery.
I want to fckin scream
“Mine. My toy. My weak little doll.”
“You s-said,” Near gasps, “that you— that you take g-good care of— of your things.”
Had to check if the door to my room is locked
I am making noises at them“My Near,” he says softly, fingers around Near’s neck, Near’s legs around his waist. His throat goes a bit raw. This is the last time. “Îngerașul meu.”
He says the 'last time' the same way i do while staring at my ao3 marked for later at 1 at night
This is it, he keeps thinking. This is the end.
He has to let go. He has to.
But—
But he can’t.
He can’t let go.
Holy fuckin shit i was actually kinda scared this would have a sad ending. Fuck. Bruh.
So he lapses into Romanian, lets himself speak freely, and imagines a world where Near is always like this, a pliant little pet instead of a painful memory.
Ok but he 100% understands right.
I’m going to keep you safe, he vows, I’m going to make you happy. I’ll put you in a cage and take you out just to fuck you and then I’ll lock you back up again, I’ll keep all to myself and you won’t be able to leave me, not again, I won’t let you go, I’m never going to let you go, I’m going to keep you, I’ll keep you forever and I’ll teach you to be good and you’ll love me.
Im gonna fucking die holy shit
“I can’t,” he says. “You’ll leave. You keep leaving before things are finished.”
HELL YEAHHHHHHHHHH THATS MY BOY
LETS FCKIN GOOOOO 💫💫💫💫💫💫💫“Busy,” Near agrees calmly, “but not too busy to learn Romanian.”
NNNNNHHHHSJJSJSSJSJSJ
my phone is at 6% btw but the charger is too far away to stop reading
The younger boy’s face crumples. Near’s pain is not satisfying or cathartic for Mello to witness. All it does is make him feel sicker.
“Okay.” His voice is rough with emotion. “You’ll have to kill me, then.”
This is probably the most romantic beautiful thing anyone ever said in the history of the world
“Hell of a selective memory you’ve got there.” Mello picks at a callous on his left hand. “I treated you like shit for years.”
“Ah,” Near says. “I didn’t realize you still felt guilty for that.”
Nnsnndjdjdjjdjdjsjsjsndnsns
“Yippee,” Mello deadpans, sliding off the bed and approaching the younger boy. “What are we eating?”
I love him so fckin much
“Go get some oregano.”
“I don’t know if I have that.” Near bounces his heels off the cabinet beneath him, kicking his feet a little.
Mello rolls his eyes. “Go check. I’ll wait.”
“Help me get down.”
“Fine,” Mello says, abandoning his tomato sauce briefly to lift Near down from the counter. “High-fucking-maintenance.”
I love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him
Near wordlessly wanders off, and Mello returns to stirring.
“I can’t find it,” Near says about thirty seconds later.
Christ alive.
I love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him i love him
“But you don’t like chocolate,” he says, stupid.
“Right,” says Near. “But I love you.”
And this is the second most romantic beautiful thing anyone has ever said ever.
There is no way the door is doing anything for me btw. Im fckin screaming. I wonder what my mom thinks about be reading a fic on the bathroom floor for an hour.
No but fr this sentence is. Just. If i wasnt putting my comments in bookmarks and was a minimalist thats what i would put there.
(i want to hold you (hostage) - death note)