FanFic100, Fic - Touoh University Host Club - 1/1, Fic - Four For Boys - 1/1

[evandar]

This is everything I either wrote or finished today. Um...as you can see, I was a bit inspired. And I'm still going, actually, but I'm not going to post that on here. This journal is too good for it.

Title: Victory
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: Mello and Near - not as a couple
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I am making no profit from this story. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Mello's impending doom. Again.
FanFic 100 Prompt: 30 Death

To Near, Mello was life. He was vibrant and loud and beautiful. He was wild and untameable; a force of nature that pushed everything aside and yet dragged things into it all at the same time. He was the sun, burning brightly enough to destroy itself, all the while being worshipped and adored; giving life and brightening the world just by being there. Mello was warmth and laughter and mischief. He worked hard and strived to achieve and when he did succeed, his triumphs changed his surroundings.

 

But if Mello was life, then Near, his opposite, had to be death. Flat and cold and sometimes cruel – not as cruel as life could be – and always, always defeating life in the end.

 

Near watched from the shadows of the playroom as Mello lived. He watched and waited for life to come to an end, because he knew- he didn’t want to but he knew anyway – that death could never be triumphant when life was still around.

Title: Hindsight Is Always 20/20
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Fandom: Death Note
Pairing: One-sided Near/Mello
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note and I am making no profit from this story. This story was written for entertainment purposes only.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Everything.
FanFic 100 Prompt: 82 If

Near returned to the Wammy House with a heavy heart and an even heavier soul. He didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want his only companions to be the ‘what if’s running through his mind.

 

What if Light Yagami had never found the Death Note? Someone else could have picked it up: a less formidable opponent, probably. What then? Would they have used it for selfish gains? Again, probably. Would L – the first L; he was L now – still be alive? Near couldn’t say for sure, but somehow he knew, deep down, that Light Yagami had been, quite probably, the only person in the world who could have outsmarted L in his own game.

 

If L had won – should he call him Ryuzaki now, so that he could differentiate between them? – then would he and Mello and Matt have been allowed a more normal adolescence? Would Mello and Matt still be alive? Again, the answer was ‘probably’. With L – Ryuzaki – still alive, Mello would have had no reason to leave the Wammy House and start down the dark path he had ended up taking.

 

If Mello had agreed to teaming up with him…ah, but that was the hardest question of all. It was one that Near didn’t want to think about, really, because he knew that it was his own cowardice, in the end, that had prevented him from arguing his case. He knew that had he been smarter, braver, stronger, then maybe he could have kept Mello by his side; maybe they could have worked together to defeat Kira; maybe…maybe Mello would still be alive.

 

If he had worked up the nerve to tell Mello that he loved him – still does love him, despite everything – then would Mello have stayed? Would Mello have agreed to work with him?

 

If he had told Mello that he loved him, would Mello have learned how to love him back?

 

Near pressed his forehead against the cold window in Mello’s old room. Roger had preserved it, and his own, keeping them locked in time in case one or both of his prodigies – Ryuzaki’s prodigies – ever came back. Near didn’t want his old room back, and so he had chosen to stay in Mello’s old room for now.

 

The cold made his head hurt, but Near didn’t care. Feeling the pain, listening to the room’s memories of a vibrant young boy – too alive to ever really die – made for a pleasant break from his thoughts and his guilty conscience.

 

‘If I had lost, would Mello be feeling this way too?’

Title: Touoh University Host Club
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I do not own either Death Note or Ouran High School Host Club. No profit is being made from this story.
Summary: Light is being stalked around campus by someone other than L and Ryuk.
Notes: This is the promised Death Note/Ouran crossover GiftFic for suno_chan.  It's, um, strange, and I don't think that I write Ouran very well, but oh well. That's what first attempts are for, I guess. Anyway, I hope it's okay for you Suno. *hugs*

Kyouya Ootori pushed his glasses up his nose and narrowed his eyes as he watched the two student speakers walked up to the podium. They were as different as it was possible to be: one neatly turned out in a pressed suit with perfectly placed auburn hair; the other in jeans and a long-sleeved T-Shirt with wild, messy black hair. At first glance, the only thing that they had in common was their scores on the entrance exams.

 

They had both beaten Kyouya, which meant that they had to have got perfect scores in everything: scores that were practically unheard of.

 

Next to him, his best friend Tamaki Suoh shifted in his seat. Kyouya managed to ignore him until a long, elegantly manicured finger poked him in the arm.

 

“What?” Kyouya hissed.

 

Tamaki grinned at him. “We should start the Host Club up again,” he whispered. “Mori-sempai and Hunny-sempai are both here as well.”

 

“This is hardly the time, Tamaki,” Kyouya muttered. “Can’t it wait?”

 

Tamaki pouted, but leaned in closer anyway. “We shout try and get that guy – the neat one – to join: the girls are going crazy over him.”

 

Kyouya didn’t bother to inform him that the girl sitting behind him had just started gushing at how cute the scruffier guy was. Tamaki was probably in his own little world by now, planning new escapades for an all-new Host Club line-up. Instead he sat back in his chair and watched as the student speakers gave their speech – their styles were very different, and the scruffy one had a foreign accent – and carefully ignored Tamaki’s sparkling eyes and occasional dramatic gestures as he lost himself in his daydreams.

 

OHSHCDN

 

Light sat back in his chair, his pen gripped loosely between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. L was sitting – crouching on the seat, more like – next to him, a lollypop held awkwardly in that bizarre way that he held everything, but Light didn’t show any outward discomfort at being in such close proximity to the man who was hunting him.

 

A flash of gold in his peripheral vision made him turn his head to the entrance of the lecture theatre. Light’s eyes narrowed: it was him.

 

He had been aware of his other shadow ever since his first full day at university. It had only taken a little digging to identify the other boy as Tamaki Suoh: some rich kid who was, it seemed, best known for running a Host Club while in high school. He wasn’t in any of Light’s classes, thankfully, but he seemed to be an almost constant presence – almost as constant as L or Ryuk – in Light’s life. It was, quite frankly, getting annoying. Light wondered if it had anything to do with those rumours he had heard from Takada: that Suoh was trying to rebuild his precious Host Club here at Touoh. He hoped it wasn’t: he’d hate to have to kill someone out of sheer irritation.

 

“Light-kun seems tense,” L commented.

 

What was that about killing people out of irritation, again?

 

“I think I’m being followed,” he muttered.

 

L raised an eyebrow. It was amazing, Light thought, how much L could say with just that one, simple action.

 

“Other than you, I mean,” he amended. He indicated the door, where Suoh was standing, clearly staring at him.

 

“Tamaki Suoh-kun,” L noted. “He has been around quite a lot, hasn’t he? I’m not quite sure, Light-kun, about your assumption that I am following you. I am simply conducting an investigation; he is stalking you. It is possibly out of infatuation” – Light’s right hand twitched, grasping his pen tightly for a moment – “though it seems more likely that he wants you to join his new Host Club.”

 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Light said dryly.

 

“He bothers you, Light-kun?” L asked quietly.

 

“Yes,” Light admitted. He shot L an amused look. “Wouldn’t it bother you too if you were being stalked around campus by a hyperactive, and quite possibly homosexual, Host Club member?”

 

L ‘hmm’ed and nodded slowly. They watched together as Suoh was practically chased out of the classroom by a black haired boy wearing glasses and carrying a clipboard.

 

“0.7%” L said after a while.

 

Light paused. “Wasn’t it 0.9% this morning?” he asked.

 

“Yes, but you see, Suoh-kun is still alive,” L said. “If you were Kira then you must have a great deal more self-restraint than I had previously calculated. This in turn would mean that you would be less likely to kill as many people as Kira has done.”

 

It was only after L had returned his attention to his lolly that Light allowed a satisfied smirk to spread slowly across his face. Apparently, not killing people out of sheer irritation had its benefits after all.

Title: Four for Boys
Fandom: Category: Freaks
Author: Evandar (yamievandar / hikarievandar)
Pairing: Prince Eastside/OC
Challenge: obscurefandom's June 2007 challenge for the song Murder of One, by Counting Crows.
Warnings: Spoilers for volumes two and three, mild angst and, er, het which is a new one to me. *faints*
Disclaimer: Category: Freaks belongs to Gokurakuin Sakurako. I am in no way making a profit from this story.
Summary: The sight of snow through cold glass brings back long dead memories of a happier time for Prince Eastside.
Notes: I don't usually write het. This is, in fact, my first ever attempt at writing it, which was pretty scary, actually.  I seem to have a bad case of 'new genre nerves'. Oh dear.

“I dreamt I saw you walking up a hillside in the snow
Casting shadows on the winter sky as you stood there
Counting crows.
One for sorrow, two for joy,
Three for girls and four for boys,
Five for silver, six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.”

 

Murder of One – Counting Crows

 

 

The wood of the windowsill was smooth under his hands as he stood, looking out over the gardens. His breath misted on the cold glass creating a wet, white film that blended in perfectly with the view beyond it. White snow; white sky, the world had turned as white as his hair over night.

 

He watched as a woman crossed the grounds, fashionably dressed in black and creating a vivid contrast against the snow. His wife: so vibrant and lovely and human. He watched as she made her way through the virgin snow and up the small hill – it was man-made; humans never ceased to amuse him with their quirks and fashions. With the ground and the sky the same colour, it looked like she could keep walking right up into heaven.

 

His sharp eyes picked up on her flushed cheeks as she turned when she reached the top. He smiled: he had managed to get her to shorten her walks in the country to ones that remained on their estate due to her current condition, but he could never have stopped her completely. The exercise made her eyes shine and her cheeks flush and she would look so beautiful when she came back in with her windswept hair – he loved her hair – and her wet and muddy skirts.

 

He had surprised himself by taking a human bride and settling down. He knew it wouldn’t last long; human lives never did, but every day spent with her was another happy memory to take with him into eternity. She had asked him once, if he would stay with her when she was old and grey, with a bent back and an even frailer body. There was no eternal life and eternal beauty for her, but he knew that even when she was old, she would always be beautiful to him. He didn’t know how she could ever be anything else.

 

He watched as she started to make her way back. She was walking slowly and carefully, hesitant of slipping in case she hurt the child – their child – growing inside of her. She looked up at the manor, eyes searching the windows for a glimpse of him, and she waved. He raised a hand in return; pressing it against the window and making his claws click against the glass. He could see the smile on her face, and felt himself return it. Her walks always made her happy, and her happiness ensured his.

 

He watched her until she had safely entered the manor, when he returned to his desk and the leather-bound ledger upon it. Living as a human had its tedious sides, and finances happened to be one of them, Though even that could not make him complain – well, it could, but he accepted it – because if t hadn’t been for his wealth then his wife’s family would never have dreamed of wedding her to the strange foreigner with the white hair and the strange yellow eyes.

 

Not that it would have mattered: they would have eloped if her father had refused.

 

He didn’t have to wait long before the door to his study opened, and she entered. His breath caught and he couldn’t help but stare at her. She looked lovely: her chestnut hair was coming loose from the tight bun she wore it in, and strands of it were falling around her face and shoulders; her round cheeks were flushed with cold and exertion; her brown eyes shining with happiness. Her left hand, adorned only with the rings he had given her, rested on her rounded stomach.

 

“I don’t know why you keep staring at me, Eastside,” she laughed. “After all, you are far prettier than I am.”

 

He stood again and crossed over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. He could feel the warmth of her body through her clothes, and he could smell snow and soap and sweat and humanity on her skin as he pulled her against him.

 

“Beauty is a matter of opinion,” he told her. She raised a slim eyebrow. “By the standards of my people, my looks are fairly normal. It is only to human eyes that I appear exotic. But you…to me you are beautiful.”

 

She laughed. “It’s my humanity that attracts you,” she said. “I was counting the crows, my Lord.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“It’s a human superstition,” she explained. “One for sorrow, two for joy, three for girls and four for boys, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told.”

 

He blinked. Humans were such strange creatures at times, with their silly superstitions – how could crows predict the future? – and their man-made hills. He humoured her though - and he knew that she knew that he didn’t really understand her ways, just as she didn’t understand his at times – and prompted her to continue with a nod.

 

“The crows say that we will have a son,” she said. She was smiling as she leaned up to kiss him. “I hope that he looks like you. Do you want a son? My Lord?”

 

“…My Lord?”

 

Eastside looked up. His arms were empty and the snowy view out of the window was of Tokyo instead of rural France. He blinked and raised a thin, clawed hand to brush away the tear that was slowly making its way down his cheek.

 

“You need to finish this business with Hainuwele,” he said calmly. “Quickly, before she gains more power.”

 

“Of course,” his son sounded slightly irritated: he’d never been the most patient of people, and Eastside supposed that spacing out in the middle of their meeting was not the best thing he could have done. “Is there anything else?”

 

“No.”

 

He heard soft footsteps and the click of the door as it closed and he sighed, his breath creating a white mist on the window. He hadn’t turned round once during their meeting - he hadn’t needed to: he saw his son every time he looked in a mirror. Asagi looked nothing like his mother. He smiled faintly: she would have been pleased.