CONTAINS SPOILERS. PAGE 74 and upward.

Author's Blah: So I finally finished the manga and didn't know what else to do, so I let my brain go off on its own at around one in the morning. Then this popped up, and it was originally a one-shot, then I contemplated turning it into a few chapters, then it returned to just being one. It could have a second chapter, but currently, I'm letting it stand alone. Tell me what you guys think.

Oh yeah. The gods Takeshi Obata and Tsugumi Ohba are responsible for the creation of the characters and the series, and even some of the plot of the fic. Really, all I own are the way I arranged the words (I don't even own the words!!!!)

Well, enough of my ranting. Enjoy.

A Friend in Need

by Darkness Princess

..x..

He knew he would risk it. He knew this was a rash decision, but he had only two ways, and one had an escape route. If his name graced that paper, it would all be over. If fire and destruction engulfed the building, he could possibly escape.

The bomb was behind him, the trigger in his hand. He turned to his left, and with a signature smirk, his finger pressed down. A loud boom rattled the building, smoke clouding the room as the concrete walls on two sides collapsed. There were screams, people shouting and others crying in pain, but for the most part, he kept silent. He couldn't scream, it was too dangerous to scream, and he let it get caught in his throat, choking him as he stood silently, body shaking.

Hot... it felt as if he hadn't been near water in days. His body shook in the feeling, the mask gone, shirt singed, glove burnt, the scent of burning flesh assaulting his nostrils as he watched as the figures in front of him lay still. Probably dead. He couldn't wait around to see, and so he ran, straight to the opening in the building, and leapt down from the second story. The landing was rough, but he didn't care. He needed to leave.

One of the cars was waiting, key in the ignition, and he could remember climbing in, and then everything blurred on the highway.

It was hot... painfully so... he was gasping in the car, hunched over the steering wheel, one eye straining to watch the road while another could barely open without sending a stinging feeling through his face. He wasn't sure how he managed to drive himself away from the scene, but finally, far enough away, he stopped the car.

Time flew by like hours when he realized where he had stopped, and who stood in front of him, with a look of disdain and confusion. Tall, at around five foot ten inches, with goggles perched over his eyes, neat brown locks falling over his face in a previously-combed manner. It took a few seconds of staring before one recognized the other.

"Mello?"

"Matt?"

"What happened to your face?"

"What happened to your wardrobe?"

A gasp, a wheeze, and Mello was soon slumped over the floor, right hand curved across his body, holding onto his face tightly. He gasped, struggling to fill his lungs with air. That was when Matt finally noticed his friend's depreciated state; singed, golden locks fell helplessly around his face, and his skin glowed an unhealthy pink shade, as if it had been ripped off. Matt couldn't even be sure it could be considered skin anymore.

"I went to Hot Topic," Matt replied calmly, kneeling next to his friend. A gentle, tanned hand reached out and brushed hair from the wounded face, his eyes examining the wound behind the shaded tint of his goggles. "You... set yourself on fire, didn't you?"

"Unintentionally," Mello wheezed. Matt sighed. Leave it to Mello to get himself in trouble.

Four years of not seeing the guy, and already, he was back to watching over him. This eerily reminded Matt of their childhood at Wammy's House, their orphanage, where Mello ran amuck and Matt followed out of pure curiosity. Mello knew how to entertain, knew how to have fun, and yet, sometimes, things didn't come out right. This was one of his attempts at mischief, a failed attempt. He was working on the Kira case, and he wasn't doing too well. When problems aroused, Mello would land in front of Matt, needing assistance of some sort, whether as a distraction for a snack raid or to help him get out of trouble, as an alibi and an accomplice; here he was, once again, needing assistance.

His eye, the one functioning as properly as possible, sent a small glare in his direction. Matt helped lift his friend from the ground, his eyes examining the damages. Raw skin or flesh, on his left arm, shoulder, back of his neck, the left side of his back. Matt was careful not to touch; he knew Mello wouldn't hesistate to bitch at him for inflicting more pain.

But the question was how to get him away from there. He could have used the car, but high chance was, knowing Mello, it wasn't a safe bet.

The brunette questioned it. "Where'd you get the wheels?"

"Stolen." Mello managed a smirk, but soon gasped again.

Matt propmtly gave Mello his jacket and helmet and took him home on his motorcycle.

..x..

Mello had slept for hours. Long enough for Matt to threaten a nice little intern at the free clinic into giving him burn ointment, as well as rob an old man and scare some stupid teenagers from loitering near his apartment. It was all moving rather smoothly, as he quietly crept back into his apartment, his shirtless friend crashed on his couch, and began to unload the things he had brought home. He had stopped by a convenience store for other necessities he knew would be needed with the second person in the house. After unloading them from the bag, he soon took the bottle of stuff from the clinic and stared at it.

Oily, white-tinted liquid, and he'd have to apply it to his friend's wounds? Mild stinging possible... damn, he forgot to buy painkillers. Oh well, Mello could rough it out. Dropping to sit on a chair next to the bed, he opened the bottle. Gross, it smelled odd.

But he knew what he had to do.

He just hadn't expected for Mello's eyes to bolt open as the blonde screamed and sat up.

"Just what the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Matt just stared. The scar was still bright pink, looking tender to the touch, a bootlegged leathery feeling to it under the slick feeling of the moisturizer. "I got it from the free clinic. Hold still."

"Hell no."

Mello shifted back, but Matt knew that his blonde friend couldn't get far. Sure, Mello knew how to fight and would, but high chance was he was still exhausted, still in pain from the night's activities. As Mello moved back, Matt pressed forward, and before he knew it, he was straddling his friend, pinning him down as his hand gently smoothed the ointment on his injured skin.

Mello squirmed and cried out in pain now and then, once it became too much to bear, yet he didn't throw a punch, even though Matt left one arm free for moving.

Ten minutes later, Matt was sitting next to Mello.

"Feeling better?"

"Run out, get me some chocolate," Mello rasped.

The brunette wasn't sure if it was such a good idea. His friend had just been burned so deeply, not only on his face and shoulder and back but also on his throat from gasping at the fire. The gas mask kept the flames around his face, and he found himself struggling with air the moment the flames collected. He could barely drink water, yet he wanted to try his hand at chocolate?

Matt sighed. "Mello..."

"Damn it, Matt, just get the goddamn chocolate."

Like a faithful puppy, Matt left the room and returned with a bar of chocolate. Oddly, Mello didn't rip into the packaging and devour it like he had. Instead, he lifted it to his nose and sniffed.

"You freak."

"Shut up." Sniff.

Matt watched his friend smell the treat in his hands, ingesting his chocolate through his olfactory senses until he could eat them properly again. That was his Mello, and Matt would've smiled if he had smiles left in him. It didn't seem as if much had changed since they were back at Wammy's. Matt was there, waiting to do whatever Mello instructed, and Mello sat on his bed, seeming content with his snack at hand.

Both knew that simple moments like this weren't going to last, yet they didn't seem to care. The nostalgic feeling of being together as they had four years ago was good enough, when the only thing that seemed different was the scent of ointment over the chocolate and the burns.

Mello smiled over at Matt, a signature smirk on his lips, as his teeth pressed against the chocolate bar.

"What?"

"Up to a little mischief, Matt?"

"Again?"

"But this time, we can't get grounded. It's freedom, Matt, freedom."

Matt was ready for it. And even with fresh wounds, so was Mello. Just like nothing had changed.

((9..owari..6))

Yep. A pointless fic written really late, yet I just wanted to have something. I don't even know why I wrote it. The ending's kinda odd, and I don't blame you if you hate it, but read and review, people! It makes the world go round! ...or was that chocolate?

:) Darkness Princess (: