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dearestones · 3 months ago

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Growing Up While Slowing Down (Mello and Reader)

Warnings: N/A

Anonymous Request: Sorry I'm so late in replying. I'd like to see mello when he's still at Wammy's house, maybe he'd like a caretaker sister who's a few years older than him. Or else you could write about when he was mafia and how awesome he looked like he had the world at his feet. For some reason I don't want to think back to mello dying, he's forever young in my mind. (Thank you for your reply and I wish you all the best!)

Life was hard.

And life was infinitely harder growing up in a secluded orphanage that prioritized only what you could offer in the future than who you were as a person.

You didn't particularly know why you procrastinated on your plans to leave Wammy's. Most other alumni who graduated from the orphanage without getting adopted were either drafted into specific positions to be later used by greater letters than themselves or faded into obscurity. As for you, life seemed to be simultaneously too fast and too slow for your own liking. You knew at one point that you had to leave the safety of your childhood home, but you wanted to stretch the days until it felt like years would pass. Although you knew that the social environment in the orphanage wasn't the best—if what your friends in the psychological sciences were to be believed—you could not bear to let go of something that had sunk its claws into you for so long.

It was childish, but then again, you were still a child.

Today, you were out in the gardens that surrounded the property. Although most of the landscape was maintained by staff, there were a few areas where several students were encouraged to plant and cultivate their own vegetation. Most of the time, the area was frequented with many of the younger children—most of whom believed that they could play in the mud all day.

They weren't exactly wrong—many of their tutors touted Montessori methods of teaching and the benefits of training proprioception—but the children were expected to complete a project or two every season.

From what you could gather, most of the children would not pursue botanical pursuits other than the rare oddball or two.

Even now, there were only two small children being overseen by one of your older cohorts. The older child gave you a nod of acknowledgement before directing one of the children under her care to start digging a small hole on a small patch of bare earth.

As you walked past them and deeper into the gardens, you thought about your future. To have survived this long at Wammy's House, you would have to be smart, cunning, and resourceful. It was no secret that your sole benefactor, the legendary detective L himself, only created and maintained proteges to either replace him or to aid him in future investigations. It was like a factory where he oversaw the cultivation of future geniuses like himself.

While you were smart and clever, you never made it to the top ten students who made their home at Wammy's. No, that honor went to those who either worked their hardest to reach the top or were either gifted with intellectual superiority. That said, you knew that you were one of the fated students to fade into obscurity unless you were brought out of the shadows for something or other for either L or whoever took over when the elusive detective finally died.

Now that you made your way into the heart of the gardens, you headed towards a wrought iron bench. Despite it being decades old, it didn't look its age. Rather, the groundskeeper must have been doing his due diligence to make sure that everything under his care was flourishing and was the spitting image of what it must have looked like at the orphanage's inception.

Here, underneath the shade of an aging oak tree, you were able to relax. It was an overcast day and whatever sun was available did little to provide you with any warmth. Were you surprised? Of course not, it was England and everyone and everything had their own schedule to adhere to.

It was practically a crime to go against what was normal and usual.

So, it came to a surprise to you when you heard someone trudging down the path, making a beeline towards the bench.

And you.

It was rare for someone to find you out here, especially since it was the weekend and most of the orphanage's minders didn't keep tabs on the older students since they often proved to be "responsible".

(Was that true? Debatable, but you'd rather that they didn't nag you do to homework or keep a strict eye on your day to day life).

Curious now as to who was following you, you glanced up only to find yourself blanching at the student who was heading your way.

When you first heard the footsteps, you thought it was someone who happened to come near, someone who might have wanted to go see the bushes and the native fauna that had come with the orphanage so long ago. However, that was far from the reality.

Really, you did not see this coming.

The person who picked up speed to talk to you was none other than M or Mello.

Despite the position of his letter in the Latin alphabet, Mello was far from thirteenth place. In fact, he far surpassed those who made it in the top ten. The top five.

He was in the top three, usually making his way to second place.

He was smart and ambitious, always chomping at the bit to leave this wretched place and make a name for himself.

But he couldn't do that.

Not yet.

He was waiting for your esteemed benefactor to announce his successor.

Not that the news would matter to you, but you supposed given the rankings and the personalities of the top three students at the orphanage, you could only assume that N or Near would be the one to take L's place. In fact, most other children would agree with you, but all of you knew to keep quiet about such assumptions.

Mello wasn't a physically aggressive child most of the time, but his anger was more than enough of a deterrent to hinder such rumors.

"Mello," you greeted placidly as he practically fell in his seat next to you, "it's not like you to be walking the grounds so late in the afternoon. What brings you here?"

Sometimes, you wondered about Mello. You knew what his dreams were, what all of his hard work and striving to be the best meant for his future. Unfortunately, you knew that didn't mean that he was going to eventually get what he wanted. There was no way he could ever beat Near in the orphanage and if L ever broke his silence about his definitive successor…

You had to wonder if Mello could be a person outside of M, the second place student.

He scowled at you, but decided to face forward when you gave him a look that conveyed how done you were with him. You were more than well aware of what he was like around other students, particularly when he was angry that Near had beat him again in the rankings, but you weren't scared of him. Despite the height difference that came with puberty, you still had a few years on him. Age was but a number, but higher numbers meant seniority and sometimes, superiority—both of which Mello intimately knew well.

So, his grumbly nature didn't affect you as much as it would had you been the same age or younger than Mello.

Instead, you merely leveled an unimpressed look at him before you poked him gently on the side.

(Years ago, before the idea of rankings and numbers and letters took over all of his ambitions and dreams, he would have laughed before tickling you back).

The blond glared at you, but did not offer any more of a rebuttal than to slightly shift his weight upon the bench. You were too caught up in your antics to feel bad, but you were feeling nostalgic. No matter how old some of the students got at Wammy's, you would remember most of them as squalling toddlers or inquisitive children having fun. In the midst of the dread that came with aging out of the system, you had to hold onto things that made you happy.

And—

Well—

Messing with someone who used to be bright eyed and shy was titillating.

Unfortunately for you, after a few more seconds of your shenanigans, Mello finally had enough. He grabbed your wrist tightly—not enough to cause harm, but to stabilize your hand and to prevent you from tickling him. It was then, at that moment, you realized that Mello was uncharacteristically quiet. Subdued. Not at all the type of person who would spend weeks trying to one up Near or the person who would raise hell if he so much as heard whispers that he wasn't the best that Wammy's had to offer.

Curious now, you stopped and looked at him, a question clearly in your eyes.

"Erm, Mello...?" You didn't know what to say, given that he hadn't made it clear why he had chosen to accompany you on this fine day. As a last resort, you tugged out of his hold and leveled him a concerned, but wary glance. "Did you need something?"

That had to be the one thing that made sense to you at that moment. It was rare that Mello talked to you nowadays, even though you used to take care of him when he was younger. You couldn't put a finger on when or why, but he slowly began immersing all of his free time into his studies and beating Near. Before that, he had been content to spend most of his time living life to the fullest and playing with his friends. Now, it seemed that the Mello you used to know was now a mere shadow approaching noon.

That is to say, it no longer existed.

Though, you supposed that it had to happen at some point. People weren't meant to stay the same throughout their entire lives. Growing and change were inherent to every living thing on earth; Mello was not exempt and neither were you.

Or, rather, you knew that you were not exempt from that fact of life, but that didn't stop you from procrastinating on it. It was ironic. You came out to the garden to escape the impending doom of becoming a fully fledged adult, but now that Mello was here, you couldn't think of anything else. It would have been mildly infuriating if it were not for the pensive look upon Mello's face.

"I talked to Roger today." That was not an angle to the conversation you expected. Roger kept up to date on all of the students under his care, but he reserved most of his face to face interactions for those who held potential to become L's successors... Or those who were ready to leave the House. You weren't exactly ready, but you knew that you were due to meet him in a month or so. Presumably, you would have a plan already in place or working on one. If not, you knew that he had a number of connections and career opportunities lined up at the ready for students who needed help or lacked initiative.

While you rarely spoke with the old man, you already knew that you were not looking forward to the impending conversation.

"Okay... And?"

You didn't know what to expect. Mello was a fair bit younger than you, so you didn't expect his news to be anything other than his longtime pursuit of trying to one up Near, but you were surprised.

"You're moving out soon."

You shrugged, not at all concerned on the outside, but cringing on the inside. "Technically, yes. I don't have any concrete plans at the moment."

The most that you could claim were only vague memories picking through university fliers or a list of phone numbers and emails that would get you connected to former Wammy's House alumni. You knew you had to move forward some day, but you did not want to start that large jump for the future right now. Rather... that should be saved for the future.

The frown that spread on his face was more than enough warning that you said the wrong thing.

But what could you have said?

And that’s when you realized that he looked rather downtrodden. For a young teenager recently experiencing the throes of puberty, he looked rather pathetic, but at the same time, you saw that there was a faint anger in his eyes. Even his body language screamed that he was battling something in his mind. Something that must have been bothering him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, eyes narrowed in irritation.

“Mello,” you crooned softly. He scoffed at your attempt to calm him, but it wasn’t like your attempts were in vain. Despite his appearance, he gradually relaxed. You faced away at the last possible moment to preserve a few seconds of your poorly disguised mirth. “Use your words, what’s wrong?”

The blond always played at being an adult, especially when talking to actual adults, but to you, he caved.

His voice started out subtle, almost as if he was tearing out the words out of his mouth like a dentist pulling teeth. Hesitant and soft, he said, “You’re leaving.” A pause. “Without me.”

You blinked at him, confused. “Well, yes. But that’s what happens when we become of age. That’s the way Wammy’s works.” You thought a moment, trying to process why he seemed so put out at your inevitable fate. “You know this already, Mello, why would—”

And that’s when it hit you.

Really, you knew that you weren’t bright enough to get into the top ten, but still. If you had the capacity to care, you would have been irritated at yourself for blatantly missing the signs. Of course, how could you not have seen it before!

“You’re going to miss me.” It was a statement you reiterated when you observed Mello about to speak up, probably about to refute your assumption. “Awwww, Mello!”

Before he could leap off the bench, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and squeezed tight.

Most students at the House would have balked at giving Mello affection, but not you. It was rare to see Mello be vulnerable and willingly show his more emotional side of himself. You couldn’t imagine him engaging in heart to hearts with Matt or god forbid, Near.

“You’re just as annoying as I remember,” Mello muttered into the crook of your neck. His warm breath ghosted over your skin, his voice as small as the child he once was.

For a moment, the both of you basked in the warm embrace.

However, like all things, this moment had to pass. The both of you had to face reality.

Grow up.

At the other end of the garden, you heard the small children who had been busy planting were whooping and hollering in delight. Over the din, you could barely make out that they had found a wriggling patch of worms and were busy trying to get their current caretaker to touch one of them. The added screams made you smile, but also reminded you that you couldn’t hold Mello forever.

Slowly—achingly—you released him.

But Mello did not immediately leave.

Instead, he leaned back against the wrought iron bench and closed his eyes.

As a bit of sun peeked through the overcast clouds, you could barely make out what he said.

But you heard him all the same.

“Yeah… I’ll miss you.”

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DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

#anonymous request #answered #devintrinidad #dearestones #death note #dn #death note mello #dn mello #death note reader #platonic reader #mihael keehl

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