neallo

i think i'm going to use dreamwidth more than tumblr for the foreseeable future for previews <3 tumblr is fun, but i think it can occasionally feel a little... crowded? claustrophobic? there's something about sharing something with a limited audience that's very soothing / liberating.

i've gotten through the first draft of chapter 6, which is exciting. i want to have a strong draft in place for everything through chapter 8 at the very least before updating -- really, most of what i'm trying to assure is that i don't need to go back and add things to earlier chapters after posting them. this story is kind of an interesting / unique-ish case in that i don't have a beta reader for it. when i wrote the very first draft, i shared it with a few people who vibe-checked it for me (<3 !!) but i haven't been running the chapters by anyone before upload.

honestly, this was, at first, like 90% because i was trying to keep a regular update schedule & was finishing things at the very last minute, but it's been sort of refreshing to not run it by anyone but my own lil self before posting. that isn't to say i don't massively appreciate everyone who's beta read for me before (i do!! sososo much!!) or that i am swearing off beta reading for this fic or others (i'm not! i'll actually probably try to get more eyeballs on it soon, esp the later chapters, to make sure things are coming together in the way i want them to), but i think it's been really good for my relationship with writing & with this work in particular to rely more heavily on my own judgment. it's what i always did when i first started writing, and i feel like it's helped me get some of that spontaneity and carefreeness around creativity back :D having my own feelings about any given chapter be the sole deciding factor is therapeutic in a way i didn't expect it to be. 

anyway. i did not actually mean to go on a whole tangent about this. i am lovingly blaming the feeling of freedom that dreamwidth's obscurity provides for my loose tongue <3 without further ado, here's a preview of chapter 6 of bury us both :3

since there are approximately 4 total people who are aware of this page's existence, and since i REALLY should not be writing something new while i have so many active WIPs already being juggled, i am going to share something i wrote this morning here >:3 shhhhhhhh it will be. our little secret.

this one is very silly. it's based on an actual seventeen magazine article from last year. i had fun starting it. i have an outline of more or less what i want to do with this, but it'll be a matter of finding time and attention span amongst other projects that are competing for my brainspace. you know how it goes. without further ado, the underedited first chapter of: 

15 Totally Chill Ways to Flirt With Your Crush

Near sat cross-legged on his bed, his newest and most promising study guide open in front of him. This magazine was called Seventeen, and though Near was, in fact, nineteen years old, he surmised that the number was more of a generalized guideline than a hard rule. Their sales would undoubtedly be miniscule if it were truly only germane for one year of each potential reader’s life.

It was uncommon for him to read something like this, but he was in a desperate position. The etiquette guides and self-help books he had been relying on were not getting him anywhere, and he suspected that was because they were either outdated or written for different social contexts. This, however, could not have been more relevant for his purpose— it was current, the latest edition, published this very month. A handbook with cutting-edge information written for people that were (approximately) his age.

He scanned through the table of contents. Hot Trends to Try This Summer. 20 Best Affordable Lip Glosses. How to Take Care of Your Mental Health in College. None of these were right. Near was not interested in fashion, suspected lip gloss would be unpleasant to him from a sensory perspective, and he was already the picture of excellent mental health. He kept searching, a small frown on his face, until— lo and behold— he found the page number of the article that had made him pick up this text in the first place, nerves electrified as he quickly flipped to it.

15 Totally Chill Ways to Flirt With Your Crush.

Letting go a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Near began to read.

1. Like their Instagrams and watch their Snapchats.

2. Make eye contact.

Near’s lips pursed. This was something he was working on, though it wasn’t especially easy when the object of his affections looked away each and every time their eyes met. Eye contact was not something that came naturally to Near, though he had found ways of faking it— staring at the space between someone’s brows, for example, was relatively effective and mostly painless— but Mello made it impossible. From Near’s own observations, he had determined that Mello was not averse to eye contact in general, but rather specifically uncomfortable with meeting Near’s gaze. This could be either very good or very bad, depending on the reason he avoided Near’s gaze. Without further investigation, the matter was inconclusive; this tip would not be his saving grace, most likely.

3. Let your emojis do the talking.

Hm. Worth investigating, he supposed. There was possibly less room for misinterpretation in text-based communication if he indicated his tone this way. As of right now, he only ever emailed Mello if it was related to class or work, but if he did elect to download Instagram and attempted to converse with Mello there, this could prove helpful.

4. Wave and say “hi” when they walk by.

This method was one he already employed. His results were not impressive.

5. Invite your crush to hang out as part of a group.

Though Near’s first instinct was to dismiss this tip, after a moment of consideration he paused, index finger and eyes both following the rest of the text.

Whether you’re hosting a party, group study sesh, or movie night, invite your crush along. The group setting is way less pressure than a one-on-one date, but the fact that you thought to include your crush lets them know they’re on your mind.

It wasn’t a bad idea. He and Mello both worked as research assistants under the same professor, and though Dr. Lawliet was not known to be overly social, he was puzzlingly fond of Near and had a weakness for the promise of free food, something Near suspected was a vestigal trait left over from his still-recent graduate school days. Mello, though reticent to spend much time with Near, was almost disturbingly devoted to Dr. Lawliet— if he could orchestrate a happy hour or some such thing toward the end of the semester, it would be a promising opportunity to get closer to Mello.

He added another note to his planner and continued to read. The next several tips weren’t really new to him— 6. Say something simple, then keep the conversation going, 7. Remember what they tell you, then bring it up later, 8. Ask questions, 9. Give them a sincere compliment— but the tenth tip caught his eye.

10. Casually touch their arm when talking.

A thrill went through him just reading it. It was, perhaps, a little silly, but Near had never even considered trying to touch Mello. It was something he thought about a lot, of course— the entire point of this endeavor was that he wanted to touch Mello in all sorts of ways— but he also imagined it was the sort of thing reserved for established couples. As general practice, he avoided physical contact with most people, and had forgotten that this was not the case for the public at large. It was difficult to say when the opportunity might present itself for him to employ the advice, but he decided he would keep it in mind.

11. Offer them a fry.

This, he thought, was unlikely to be relevant unless he managed to turn his idea of a happy hour into a reality. Worth remembering for the future, but not actionable in the immediate future.

12. Give them something small but thoughtful.

Ah. Wise. There was an obvious option, here, that Near could default to, which would be to purchase bars of chocolate and offer them to Mello. He already knew that Mello’s favorite brand was [XYZ], and could probably purchase a few to keep in his backpack so that he would have something on hand if the moment was right.

The rest of the tips were related to conversation. 13. Gently tease them, 14. Send funny memes, and 15. Share details about yourself— Near catalogued them, considered them, and filed the information away for later use.

Smiling, he dog-eared the page. This was a good start. He had a plan.

Near doesn’t remember how she got here, how she could be back in the warehouse— and alone, nonetheless.

Or, without the other SPK members, at least. She spots Mello across the space, lit by a hanging bulb, and relaxes slightly. Mello will know what to do; she’s much better at thinking on her feet than Near is, better at navigating frightening and unfamiliar situations.

Something in her throat catches as she tries to call out to Mello. A moment later, Near watches the older girl stumble. Something is wrong— Mello is hurt, or something. It is, for some reason, very hard for Near to move her feet. She tries to run for Mello, but can only move slowly, like she’s walking through molasses, but she needs to reach Mello, she has to—

The blonde’s legs buckle and she falls, first onto her knees and then forward onto her face. Near’s mouth drops open to let out a scream, but she can't make a sound. Abruptly, as if the distance between herself and Mello spontaneously shrank, the older girl is lying limp at her feet. Near sinks to the floor and, with some difficulty, turns Mello over. Her beautiful face is slack, once-bright eyes now dull and empty, her natural vibrancy drained. Mello’s body is still, unbreathing, and when Near tries to find a pulse, there is none.

Mello is dead, she thinks, and it’s her fault. Somehow it’s her fault. Near should’ve saved her, should’ve done something differently. Her heart twists in agony; it feels almost like she could tear in half from the inside from the despair of it all.

No, she thinks, this isn’t right— this can’t be real— wake up, wake up, wake up—

She comes to in the dark of the airplane with a small, shuddering gasp, incoherent with panic as she turns to stare hard at Mello’s sleeping face. Near distantly recognizes that her own cheeks are wet with tears, but she doesn’t wipe them away. It hardly seems important right now.

The older girl is breathing, but Near can’t stop herself from pressing two fingers to the pulse point on the side of her throat, indescribably soothed by the soft pulsation of blood moving through the blonde’s carotid beneath pale, warm skin. Mello’s heart still beats. Near lets her own eyes slide shut and sighs with pure, stark relief, a horrible weight lifting off her chest as she continues to count the cycles of Mello’s contracting and relaxing ventricles. Systole, diastole. Systole, diastole.

“Near, what the fuck?” Mello whispers, her words a bit slurred with sleep.

The white-haired girl startles, withdrawing her hand and opening her eyes again to meet the older girl’s gaze. Near’s breath catches as she does. Even in the dark, even half-lidded with drowsiness, Mello’s eyes seem to catch every small, sparse speck of light, sparkling with life. It’s a gorgeous bit of comfort after what Near saw in her wretched dream.

Still, she hadn’t actually intended for Mello to wake up.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice still a bit thick with emotion, uncharacteristically so. “I... had a nightmare.”

What Near expects is for Mello to scoff, or scold Near for waking her, but the blonde just makes a sleepy sound and drapes an arm over Near’s shoulders.

“C’mere,” she says.

Near’s eyes have never been wider. “M— Mello?”

Mello makes an irritated sound. “Limited-time offer, cottonball.”

No more prompting is necessary— Near pushes the arm rest between their reclining seats up to remove the barrier between them and scoots over. Mello draws her close, tucking Near’s face into the crook of her neck and resting her own cheek against the younger girl’s unkempt nest of snowy hair. Near is dampening Mello’s throat with traces of tears, but the older girl doesn’t protest. If she focuses, Near can still smell the red wine that the airline served a few hours ago on Mello’s breath.

“You’re safe,” Mello whispers.

Near feels like she might just be in another dream, now. Mello hasn’t held her since they were children— and even then, it was begrudgingly done, Mello gruffly allowing Near to cling close during thunderstorms from time to time. It only gets more surreal when Mello presses a gentle kiss to the top of Near’s head. Near’s heart flutters, wondering whether Mello’s strange tenderness is owed to the alcohol or the afterglow of ending the case that’s consumed them both for the last five years.

“I dreamed you died,” Near finally admits, shifting her head to place an ear against Mello’s chest, listening to her heart up-close.

Mello’s arm tightens around her.

“I’m here,” Mello says, sounding halfway asleep again.

Near allows herself to relax against the older girl’s body, melting into her embrace.

Mello, the girl Near has loved for half her life, is here. That alone is miracle enough, but it doesn't end there.

Light Yagami is dead.

Kira’s reign of terror is over.

Their predecessor is avenged.

And Mello— Mello is here, beside Near, holding Near.

She still doesn’t know yet if the blonde will be willing to work together again, regardless of how quickly the case came together when they finally joined efforts. She’s not sure how easy it will be to obtain pardons for Matt and Mello, either, though she’ll pull whatever strings she has to in order to ensure they're free.

The future is still uncertain, but lying in Mello’s arms in the middle of the night, somewhere over the Pacific ocean, Near thinks things look brighter than they have in a long, long time.