617AN: So here is my newest ongoing fic! Updates should be fairly regular because I have rough drafts of several chapters written. The only drawback is my semester starts Monday so I hope I can keep up fine. Anyway please read and enjoy.
Warnings: AU, this is a high school fic but do not expect all the DN characters to make appearances. Language and such and well…it IS rated M for a reason xD You shall see.
Disclaimer: I don't own DN, obvi.
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Chapter one: Prologue
It was the start of another dull week at my dull high school. I yawned and walked to my locker, opening it and putting my backpack inside, digging through my locker for my books.
After eleven grueling years in the public school system, I had finally reached my senior year. So far it hadn't been anything special. It was the beginning of October now, and I doubted much would change. I had already submitted all my college applications, wanting them out of the way as soon as possible, and I had started applying for scholarships. All I had to do was maintain my spot as first and I would graduate with enough scholarships to put me through college…or at least, enough to put me through college if I had a job.
Yes if I wanted any spare money I'd have to get a job once I was on campus and away from home. Luckily the money I had saved up from Gamestop over the years would be a good start.
I sighed and turned off my cellphone, mentally cursing the school rules, not that I used it all that often anyway. I preferred to have one though, especially since I had to walk everywhere since I couldn't afford a car. Luckily Joe and Michelle were usually willing to pick me up if the weather was bad or something.
"Hey Matt." Speak of the devil. I turned from my locker to face my two friends. I wasn't particularly close with either of them, but we did talk at school and on occasion even made plans on the weekend. Joe was a decent gamer, but Michelle's love for games far outweighed her actual talent. Either way, it had led us all to talking, which was nice, since I didn't care much for anyone else in the school.
"So did you do the chemistry homework? I didn't understand number five and neither did Joe," Michelle asked as she pulled her dark blond hair back in a ponytail. Wordlessly I dug through my folder, producing the worksheet and handing it to her. "You're the best Matt."
I finished grabbing my books and turned back towards them only to make eye contact with someone across the hall.
He was lean, decked in all black. His blond hair hung just above his shoulders, not a strand out of place. He kept eye contact and I looked away, glancing back up to see an amused smirk playing across his face. He slammed his locker shut, stretching, which exposed just a sliver of his stomach before he turned abruptly and walked down the hall.
He was new. I would have remembered him. Not only was his locker by mine, but this was a rather small school. There's no way I wouldn't have noticed him.
"Earth to Matt," Michelle said, waving my homework in front of my face. I snatched it and put it back in my folder, closing my locker and falling into step besides Joe and Michelle, who were discussing the finer points of Grand Theft Auto. I mumbled my agreement to whatever Joe said as we walked into sociology together.
Who was that new kid?
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I found out that the new kid was Mello, several periods later in my English class. He had just transferred because of his dad's new job and would be here for the remainder of the year.
Mello…an interesting name for an interesting person. He was placed across the room and the teacher handed him a copy of Dante's Inferno, the book we had been reading in class for the past couple of weeks.
Something about him commanded attention. He seemed so confident, even on his first day in a new school. He was just so different from all the other guys here.
The class continued to study him. It wasn't often that we got a new student so late in the year. The teacher called for attention, finally dragging the curious stares from the blond.
"Okay class, can someone tell me what the contrapasso is of simony? Any ideas or guesses?"
I rolled my eyes. No one in this class knew the answer to a question like that, and I was sure most of them hadn't even done the reading. I was just about to sit back and watch the teacher explode over the lack of motivation in the class when Mello raised his hand.
Everyone looked at him, surprised. Even the teacher looked thrown off, but she recovered quickly and called on him. "Yes Mello?"
He put his hand down and sat up straighter. "The contrapasso of simony is the aspect of baptism. The fire is the opposite of water, burning their feet instead of cleansing the body of sin. They are also in what Dante likens to a baptism basin. In essence, it is a mock baptism. In addition, the sinners being face down represents them being placed even farther from Heaven for buying and selling holy offices and positions within the church. Because they tried to get higher up unfaithfully, they are being pushed headfirst even farther down to pay for their sins."
Silence. Mello sat back, amusement and confidence dancing through his eyes as the entire class stared in amazement. He looked at the teacher, his smirk growing wider at the shock on her face. "Is that sufficient?" he asked.
Who was this guy?!
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. I caught one more glance of Mello at his locker, but he was gone as soon as I approached my locker. I grabbed my backpack and left the building. I didn't go straight home though, opting instead to linger at a café halfway between school and home. It was relaxing, and I stayed there to do all of my homework before even considering heading home.
I had settled into this routine comfortably ever since eighth grade. The café was small and inviting, usually quiet as people sat conversing in soft voices or reading. It transformed throughout the seasons, and I liked to watch the different people who came into the café.
But I couldn't stay out all night, and eventually I made my way home. I sighed and slowly opened the door.
"Oh, you're home."
He was standing there, beer bottle in hand, as I expected. He just looked at me before gulping down the rest if the bottle and vanishing into the kitchen. I heard the bottle slam onto the counter, then the sound of the fridge opening as he retrieved another. He stumbled to a stop once more in front of me.
Adam Jeevas is my father. I can tolerate him most of the time, except when he drinks. I hate people who drink. They're obnoxious and foolish. They yell, they stumble around, and they act like complete idiots. Of course, my father has always been like this, at least as far as I can remember.
My brother David disagrees. He says dad never used to drink, except socially. David is nearly five years older than me, and he remembers a time when dad didn't drink. Apparently he used to take David out for boat rides and dinner with mom. They used to go to movies and go on picnics and all kinds of amazing things.
Now, even seventeen years later, he hasn't forgiven me for killing her. He hasn't forgiven me for leading dad into drinking. He hasn't forgiven me for making him lose out on those picnics and dinners and movie nights.
I suppose it could be worse. My dad has never completely lost it and beat us senseless and thrown us onto the streets. He hasn't quit his job and let us starve to death. But he barely tolerates me as it is, so I do my best to stay on his good side. He still seems to like David okay, so I have to be careful not to anger David, because he holds a lot of sway with dad.
David still lives at home, despite the fact that he's twenty two. He never went to college; we certainly didn't have the money. That's why I work so hard in school to stay in first or at least second. Number one and two, they get scholarships, and a lot of them. If I made enough, I could get away from this house. Being merely tolerated was not a good feeling.
David didn't have a girlfriend; I don't know who would want to date an asshole like him, and so he still lives at home, bringing in a small income with his crappy job. Most of his money went to beer anyway.
"Oh look whose home," came the slurred voice from the doorway. I sighed and turned to see David standing there, beer held in his hand. "Little Matty decided to grace us with his presence."
I ignored him, trying to brush past into the kitchen. Dad had wandered off, saying something about music. Moments later I heard the stereo blaring from the living room. David followed me, still talking. "What, too good to talk to me? Too good for your older brother? Is that typical of most murderers?"
I didn't look at him, instead opening the fridge to search for something I could take to my room easily. "Hey!" I felt a hand on my arm, and I was wrenched suddenly away from the fridge. David slammed the door shut and glared at me. "I'm talking to you! You can't try and pretend I don't exist, you're the one who shouldn't have been born!" I didn't look at him. Arguing was pointless, and could lead to violence. I was small compared to my brother, who actually put in effort at the gym. As a result, I knew I wouldn't stand a chance in a real fight with him. "Well?! Did mom die when I was born?!"
I would have shrunk back if he didn't still have a grip on my arm. "No," I answered.
"That's right," he said, features calming. "It wasn't my fault. It wasn't dad's fault either was it?"
"No," I said, hoping it would be enough to placate him and I could escape to my room.
He released me, nodding. "That's right, it wasn't our fault. You're lucky dad lets you stay here at all." He continued mumbling about it as he made his way out of the kitchen. I quickly grabbed the leftover half of a sub sandwich from the fridge and retreated to my room.
I locked the door behind me, just so they couldn't walk in to lecture me or start yelling or something. It was usually only David who tried, but neither bothered to try to get in if I locked the door. I sighed and collapsed on my bed, slowly eating my dinner and staring at the ceiling.
Mello…he certainly seemed different. I had never been so intrigued by someone before. He seemed so open, and so confident for someone starting in a new school, especially senior year.
Even if his hair made him look girly…it kind of suited him. Short hair just seemed wrong somehow. Unsure why I was contemplating this, I finished off my food then stood, taking my DS from the dresser and turning it on, quickly losing myself in my game.
Why think about it too much? It was just a new boy. It's not like he was all that different.