Venice/How To Save A Life (Death Note Fanfiction)

Chapter 11 After isolation

My dark grey eyes dragged themselfs to the ticking clock that appeared more quiet with every second I got more selfconcious. I panted. My chest made such great jumps that it had hurt my stomach.

My window was back to the way it was. Vaguely I remembered opening the curtain above my head when I saw the fresh evening sky before all this happened. It was winter. It was twentyeight past nine. Time hadn't changed.... I snapped.

"Dad!!" I jumped up and ran through out the house. My legs refused to run making me bump to every wall that crossed my path. I felt as if I didn't sleep for ages. "Dad?" My voice huskingly cried when I ran in the bedroom. He wasn't there.

"Dad. DAD!!" I screamed. I nearly fell from the stairs when I noticed light in the livingroom. Bugs crawling every direction in me. There he stood pulling his jacket on and his guitar back on the ground next to me and a cup on espresso in his left hand. He swollowed a last bit of burned wood smelling drink. I didn't move. I think my legs didn't allow me.

"Where you yelling?" He asked as if he thought the neighbors were fighting. I nodded. He waited for a moment thoughtfully, hummed and played his cup with force on the dinner table. He picked up with guitar case.

"W-where are you going?" I asked, wrapping my arms over eachother so he couldn't possibly read my mind.

"John's ride called of. He is still in liverpool." He told me.

"Is that John's guitar?" He nodded.

"I'm going to pick him up." He fast walked to me and kissed my cheek.

"Can't someone else do that??" I almost yelled. Elliot gave me a shocked look.

"Look at you! You could faint every second!! Can't John call alother taxi?"

"You sound like your mother." I gasped

"No, I don't!" He frose.

"Venice..... Be quiet." My legs were shaking. He looked up from his shoes and walked further.

"Dad." I choked.

"I'm sorry." He turned around. "You're scaring me."

"Venice." He purred and opened his arms just enough for me to know he wanted to hug. His jacket catched the thick tears rolling over my cheeks.

"You miss Lyon, don't you?"

"So much, you have no idea." He rocked me for a while while I let my tears role quietly over my cheeks. I never cried outloud.

"Okay, this is what you're going to do. You're going to bed. And you're going to dream about Lyon and you'll kick his ass." I formed my hand into a fist. "And the next morning it's going to be okay." He looked down.

"How do you know that for sure?"

".....If it's not, come to me."

If it's not okay come to me..... I repeated several times in my head. I looked up to him. He picked up his guitar and took the doorhandle in his hand.

"Dad."

"Hm?"

"When will you be back?" He waited a moment and sighed thoughtfully.

"I don't know that yet. We'll see." He said and closed the door.

"Thank you." It became quiet. But not as quiet as the one night I spend one after I saw Lyon for the first time drunk when I was sober. Not as quiet as the time I heard mom died. It was just quiet. The bugs in my stomach seemed to have found peace after a long time of stuggling. It was just me and the house in London. The livingroom was brighter than the kitchen. I saw how the glass door to the garden reflected the livingroom. I made a few steps further and saw myself. I saw how the piano, guitar, couch and kitchentable came to themselfs the way I did.