The Annals of Fear

Religious places. Mello can\'t erase that fact from his mind. All of those teenagers made their own way to whichever religious environment most fitted their culture, then killed themselves in sometimes unbelievable ways. Mello\'s imagination flitted over the description of the 16 year old, who had disembowelled himself in a mosque. He didn\'t even want to linger upon the 14 year old who had attempted his own crucifixion; only to die of shock and blood loss, alone with a broken leg after his fall onto a stone floor. Mello didn\'t want that image in his head, but they were all there now. He found himself musing on whether the icon of the Christ was a comfort during that boy\'s lonely night.



"Why are you standing on the stairs?" Matt called from above. Mello snapped from his reverie and peered upwards. Matt was leaning over the bannister, so cool and dissociated apparently from his world. A lit cigarette dangled from between his lips. A gloved hand came up to retrieve it; the redhead\'s face lost in a smokey haze. "And why are you staring at me?"



Mello smirked. "A cat can stare at a queen."



Matt chuckled. "I\'m not the Queen in this house, Mello." He shook his head and retreated towards the bedroom. "Hell no."



"Your point is?" Mello winked, already knowing. He hurried after Matt, pausing only as he reached the bedroom door. He didn\'t even bother trying to explain to Matt why he felt the need to look. That the redhead fascinated him as much now as he ever had; and that his charms kept the images of dead teenagers at bay. Mello\'s mood needed lightening. "Are you going to bed?"



"Yeah."



"Early for you." Mello glanced at the alarm clock. It wasn\'t long past midnight. "I\'ll join you." He dodged back out and into the bathroom. The other link between those people was some kind of cult album. It hadn\'t been released via any major record company, but existed mostly in cyberspace. Downloaded, burnt and passed around as homemade CDs; or transferred through file sharing, throughout the millions of social networking programmes across the internet. Talk of subliminal messages was as old as music itself, but this one had gained a kind of dark mystique, simply because of the real tragedies attached to it. Mello had resisted the urge to even search for the album himself. He hoped that Matt had too.



A stab of irrational fear caused Mello to ditch his toothbrush and hurriedly rinse out the paste from his mouth. He made it as far as the bathroom door before checking himself. Killer music didn\'t exist. Urban legends and Chinese whispers did. It was all a PR stunt. Teenagers would believe anything, especially if it was written in dramatic onts, on forums with black backgrounds. Someone somewhere was getting rich off the hype. Mello rubbed his chin, inspecting himself in the mirror. No stubble. He\'d pass muster. Though his burn scars itched and looked unsightly. Mello stared at his reflection. He was never going to be any better good-looking than this. The scar would fade, but he would be older then. He had been so beautiful. Beauty faded, he knew that, but his had gone too early. Too suddenly.



Mello straightened. Aware that he was tired and doing his own head in. He turned decisively and whipped open the bathroom door. Matt had already stripped off to his jeans. The sight of him was an antidote to any mental demons. Mello strode into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. It slammed with a loud bang that even startled Mello. "Sorry, didn\'t mean to kick it that hard." He paced to the dressing table and took out the cocoa butter.



"Face itching?"



Mello nodded, avoiding the mirror. "A bit." He pulled back his gloves and unscrewed the cap. Matt was beside him, taking a large dollop of the cream. "My shoulder is ok. It\'s just my cheekbone and under my eye. I can do it."



"So can I." Matt started to gently rub it in, relieving the irritation with more than just the cocoa butter itself. "Better?"



Mello smiled. "You very tired?" Matt\'s response was merely a faint smirk. "Good. Because I\'ve got plans for you." Mello\'s hand reached behind to slide down Matt\'s spine and to rest against the denim of this backside. "But a question first."



"Hm?"



"Do you think I\'m starting to look older?"



Matt blinked at him. Matt didn\'t immediately say no. He just stared, until a grin started to form on his lips. "What?"



Mello thumped him. "The burns dried out my skin. Even the new skin gets all..."



"You are such a fucking girl."



"Mail."



Matt just shook his head, retreating to the bed, wiping cocoa butter from his fingers onto his jeans. He commented off-handedly, "You\'re gorgeous."



Mello took a deep intake of breath and dropped the pot onto the dressing table. "Would it kill you to give me an honest answer?"



"I just did." Matt laughed. "You\'re paranoid."



"Oh fuck off." Mello started back towards the door, deciding that maybe he did want to stay up a little longer. But Matt was suddenly behind him, arms snaking around Mello\'s shoulders and kisses covering his scars. Mello turned his head to survey his husband through one aching eye. "I gave up God for you, Mail Jeevas." He watched the uncertainty settle over Matt\'s expression. "You had better make eternal damnation worth it." He twisted around, grabbing Matt around the waist with both arms, and propelling him backwards onto the bed. Mello\'s whole body holding Matt down, he clutched at a handful of red hair, forcing Matt\'s head into a position from which he could be kissed. Mello\'s mouth closed over Matt\'s, harsh at first, becoming more gentle as he relaxed into it. Such force was not at all necessary, but sex was always a power struggle between them. A bid for domination which Mello wanted to win and Matt wanted to lose. Matt had even helpfully raised his own arms above his head. His legs parting to wrap around Mello\'s body. "Am I gorgeous, Mail?"



"Out of my fucking league."



"Good boy..." Mello began, then his elbow touched plastic. He peered down to throw off the bed whatever it was, but it turned out to be a CD case. A symbol was printed on the cover. The same symbol found on the bodies of all those teenagers. Some in real tattoos, most in home-made body art, cut in with razors or drawn on with marker pens. Mello froze. "You\'ve copied the album."



"Yep."



Mello didn\'t believe in subliminal messages in music. He also recalled a time when he didn\'t believe in shinigamis nor the ability to kill by writing in a notebook. "Why?"



"I was bored."



"Have you listened to it?"



"Yes." Matt smirked. "I\'m just having one last shag before I go and find a church to hang myself in."



Mello\'s gaze jolted back to glare at his husband from a few inches away. "What was on the album?" He could feel his own heart beating through his ribcage.



"Bloody awful music." Matt peered back at him, wanton. "I\'ve got a programme running in there stripping it down to layers, then bits. Recording a backwards version as well. This is your copy."



"I wish you\'d leave things alone, Matt."



Matt didn\'t bother to reply, probably because he had registered the fact that he\'d been called \'Matt\', not \'Mail\', and therefore knew that he was on thin ice. Mello sighed and knocked the CD off the bed onto the floor. The casing didn\'t even crack, let alone the CD itself. Mello considered what to do. He wanted the case gone. Out of his head. If it was his case, it would be different. But it wasn\'t and therefore he didn\'t want to think about things like 16 year old girls and their sick, deadly use for a shofar. Beneath him, Matt shifted slightly and that decided matters. Mello placed a hand on Matt\'s chest and smirked at him. He watched that little frission of anticipation and fear form in Matt\'s green eyes. "Oh really?"



"You will do as you\'re told."



"Yeah, Mello." Matt half-laughed at him. Mello leaned in closer, so that his eyes were just an inch or two from Matt\'s own. Ordinarily the goggles would be in the way, but Matt had already removed them in his preparations for bed. Mello was invading Matt\'s space and he knew it. The redhead\'s smile waivered just a touch, but Mello held his gaze. "I\'ll do what I\'m told."



Mello let his own sardonic smile grow. "I\'m not just talking about in the bedroom."



"Yeah, I know." Matt frowned a little, unsure whether to be turned on or uneasy. "You look really fucking crazy at the moment."



"Good." Mello finally closed in the gap, kissing Matt fiercely, before leaping back and descending with a loud slap across Matt\'s face. "Next time I tell you not to listen to something. I mean it." Matt\'s erection was prominent, even through his jeans. Mello pounced on Matt\'s wrists, at the exact moment that his husband was moving to touch his cheek, and Mello yanked them towards the headboard. He sat on Matt\'s chest to secure the handcuffs, that were snatched up from the top drawer of the bedside cabinet. Matt\'s breaths came out slightly ragged. He didn\'t speak. "That\'s better." Mello kissed him again, then climbed off him, standing in the middle of the bedroom floor. He picked up the CD case and inspected it. It was just one of Matt\'s spare cases with a cover printed in his study. It should have looked innoculous, but ill-ease pumped through Mello\'s psyche. "I\'ll be right back."



Mello was halfway to his own study, intending to place the CD case on his Marian Shrine, when another thought occurred to him. He had once promised himself that he would never leave a room where Matt was secured to a bed. Mello paused, caught between hurrying to nullify the CD and rushing back to Matt. He could have dealt with the CD and been back in the time that he procrastinated on the carpet. Sighing, he just dropped it there, bending to prop it up against the skirting board, then he returned the few paces back to their bedroom. Matt was staring at the doorway, though he probably couldn\'t see more than coloured shapes from that distance without his goggles on. "Mello, what are you doing?" Matt asked, perfectly alright. "You\'re acting a bit..."



Mello felt foolish. "I\'m going to put the CD on my shrine. Then I\'ll be back." He shuffled a little. "I\'m alright, Mail. I\'m coming back. I didn\'t mean to..."



"Mihael. It\'s ok."



Mello nodded. He ran out and scooped up the CD, realising that Matt probably wouldn\'t have been able to tell that it hadn\'t been in his hand all along. Mello was going to take it into his study, but he remembered the chapel downstairs and parkoured over the bannister to reach it more quickly. Hand over hand, his feet finding footholes in the paneling of the hallway wall, he reached the tiled floor and dashed across to run into their little chapel. It was cold and dark in there, but it felt peaceful. Mello automatically crossed himself at the altar, then placed the CD, in its case, before the Christ. He briefly debated praying over it but, in truth, he was already feeling annoyed with himself for all of this superstitition and fuss, besides the fact that Matt was bound and waiting for him. He raced back upstairs.



"Mihael..."



"Sex." Mello grinned, hoping that it displayed the right degree of leacherous ease.



"Are you alright?"



"Da." Mello peeled off his top and loosened the laces at this groin. He noticed that Matt\'s erection had faded away. His husband was worried then. "I\'ve not gone mad."



Matt frowned, "I didn\'t say you had."



"Why are you looking half scared to death then?" Mello asked, though Matt just appeared impassive. There were little signs though that told Mello that Matt wasn\'t as blasé as he made out just now.



"Because you\'re acting really fucking weird, even for you."



Mello sighed. He had been wanting to switch on the seduction around now, but honesty seemed like the best policy. "The CD worries me. Until I\'ve looked at it, I don\'t know precisely why those kids are killing themselves. Chances are that it\'s just a manufactured social scare, which crushes a few of the vunerable ones under its hype. You might not believe in God, Mail, but you would be the last person to deny the existance of the supernatural. We both would. My worry is that tiny, tiny chance that there\'s something in this. I don\'t want that in the room where we fuck and sleep." He shrugged. "And maybe a bit of divine protection won\'t go amiss either."



Matt was grinning at him. There was a little chuckle as Mello stopped talking. "Ok. Just as I thought. Fine."



"Fine?"



"Very Mello."



Mello nodded. "So we\'re all good?"



Matt raised his eyebrows. "You did kind of run out on me halfway through foreplay."



"Yeah, yeah." Mello gestured dismissal. "I\'m getting to that bit now."



"Oh good."



If it hadn\'t been for the presense of the handcuffs and the reddened patch on Matt\'s face, then what ensued would have been called lovemaking, not sex. It was gentle and tender, Mello smiling at the swelling of Matt\'s cock and the moans he solicited from deep within the redhead\'s throat. He doubted that Matt had even noticed that he wasn\'t being hurt. That felt like a victory, especially when Matt came with a strangled cry and Mello followed soon afterwards.