"Mail...Mail come here! It's ready!" A maternal voice spoke softly.
The redheaded youth padded through a familiar dwelling, heading for the kitchen. He sat at a small oblong table, seated in front of a plastic placemat.
Looking towards the stove on his left, he saw a tall woman who stood at the front of a gas range, stirring two pots of food. After a moment she turned, placing a dish on the placemat in front of the small boy. He looked up at her, facial features completely blurred. However he didn't seem to mind, and smiled.
"I hope you like it, Mail. Happy Birthday," she smiled back at him, a sweet, full smile.
"Mom!" he heard himself scream as he shot out of bed. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he looked around the small bedroom. Hands searched to the left of him for Mello, but found nothing. Turning, Matt looked down at the empty bed. He looked to the floor where his laptop was. Opening and turning on the device, he found the time: 10:16 AM.
Mello's gone out to get food...his mind whispered. Matt placed the computer on the floor, staring blankly at it for a moment.
At 10 AM every morning, Mello would wake himself up and head for a local convenience store and purchase a small amount of food for him and Matt. Then he would head back to the small apartment they rented together in Winchester. Usually, the blonde getting out of bed would wake Matt, at which point he would start his daily chores; first he would wash Mello's garments.
This was to ensure that Mello had fresh clothes for the long day ahead. After coming back and eating, he would go out and search for jobs for himself and Matt. With all the snow and dirt Mello trekked through each day, it was necessary for him to have freshly laundered clothes.
Though on this particular day, Matt didn't wake. He assumed his dream had kept him from noticing Mello leave the bed, or that Mello that morning hadn't had the heart to wake him.
But why...why didn't he wake me? thought Matt. He knew that Mello would complain if his clothes weren't washed, and rightfully so. Mello had at most a couple of shirts and one pair of pants. At least, Matt thought, he could borrow a pair of his jeans since they wore the same size.
Bending both legs at the knee, Matt curled into a ball, arms tight around his shins. He wanted to cry; he felt so alone. He wanted Mello to hurry back home so he didn't have to feel this way.
Since the first day Matt had come to Wammy's he had abandonment issues. Once attached to Mello and Near, he never left their sides. Near though...well, Mello had decided to leave Wammy's in lieu of working alongside Near as the new L.
Matt didn't want to leave, but something told him that Mello needed him. Mello would have been out on his own, all alone with no one else to rely upon. Near had Roger, and Linda and all the other orphans to protect him. He would always have room and food. Mello, however, would have to work and sacrifice in order to have either.
For that Matt decided it was best to go with Mello. He still regretted leaving Near alone, and made a point to contact him weekly through e-mail. Matt thought it best not to tell Mello; at least, not for now.
Matt looked to the door of the bedroom, realizing he had fallen back onto his pillow. He felt a little less lonely huddled to himself under the warm covers.
Thinking a moment, the gamer attempted to recall what he had dreamt about. Matt believed he was much younger in the dream, and was in a house, somewhere very familiar to him. A voice called out and he went towards it. A warm, comforting feeling washed over him as he thought of his dream. But he wasn't sure exactly what had happened, who the owner of the voice was or even where he had been. It had been a nice, but frightening dream.
The slam of the front door was audible through to the hallway, drifting into the bedroom. Mello was home now. Matt jumped out of bed, dressed and headed for the washroom, starting the laundry he had neglected until now.
Before he knew it, Matt had hung the laundry to dry on a clothing line and sat down to eat. Breakfast was far from routine causing the gamer to feel even more out of sorts than before. Typically, the two would share breakfast, and then Mello would soak in a warm bath before heading out in the cold and snow to look for jobs. Matt would bathe after Mello dressed and left.
Such mundane events as these seemed to unfold awkwardly before Matt. The moment he had woken up that day he had felt so alone and wanted to see Mello more than anything. But somewhere between the laundry and breakfast, he'd done a 180 and hid from the blonde in the washroom
Once Mello had left the bathroom to dress, Matt had rushed in, locked the door, stripped and got into the tub. If anytime after that Mello had said goodbye, Matt never heard it.
The redhead leaned over the side of the porcelain tub contemplating events of the entire day. He didn't know what to make of anything that had happening, deciding to sort his thoughts.
"Matt," said Mello smiling gently. The very thought of Mello bearing such a calm expression worried Matt. It wasn't often that he saw his friend smile so sincerely.
"What?" asked the redhead, nibbling on his breakfast idly.
"What do you mean what?" he said, in a soft but irritated tone. That was more of the Mello that Matt was used to. "You know what today is." Blue eyes looked at the gamer sitting across the table from him.
Matt looked down at his food. After such a rude awakening not to mention a confusing dream, he felt out of sorts. Today could have been Christmas and he wouldn't much know the difference.
"Hellooooo..." said the blonde. "It's your 15th birthday, moron."
"O-Oh..." he replied, looking away from Mello. It wasn't necessarily that he had forgotten, more so that other thoughts came roaring in, pushing such a fact to the back of his mind.
Mello stood, popping the rest of his food in his mouth as he came to Matt's side. He raised a hand, dropping a fist on the crown of his partner's head, not enough to hurt but enough to jar his thoughts. "Dummy," he said. "I'll be home a little earlier than usual. Then you get your gift, 'kay?"
Matt looked up. His head pulsed after impact with the side of Mello's fist. It didn't hurt, but he could distinctly feel the impression of a hand on his head. "Okay..." he added feebly.
Mello said nothing afterwards and Matt made sure to avert his eyes. Before anything else was said, Mello headed for the bathroom.
"Damn..." said Matt, angry with himself.He wanted so much to just curl into a ball and disappear.
"What's wrong with me today...?" he questioned, looking around the room as if one of the four walls would answer.
He didn't want to feel this way; especially not today. Not on his birthday.
But...I...I really...
Sitting straight up, the redhead drew in a breath, slipping under the surface of the water. Bubbles trickled out of his nose as he strove to hold his breath. He came up for air after a little with a splash, sloshing water beyond the edges of the tub.
Reclining on the back of the tub, Matt began to evaluate his dream. He dove into the depths of his mind. Deep...deeper...deeper still...
"Do you like it Mail?"
The youth looked down at the plate set before him. Steam wafted up from the dish of spaghetti noodles topped with thick red tomato sauce and a few sprinkles of parmesan cheese.
Smiling, he took a fork into his hand. He stabbed the fork into the pile of food, swirling it a few times with childish precision, spilling some sauce on the placemat. Removing the fork, he examined the swirled noodles, dripping with rich sauce. He opened his mouth, stuffing the concoction in, chewing quickly.
The warm sensation of tomato and garlic rushed over his taste buds. There weren't so many spices in the sauce as much as there was an overflow of vegetables, sautéed until it practically melted in one's mouth.
Swallowing, the young redhead nodded several times. "Uh huh. I love it, Mommy."
She smiled. "Happy 8th Birthday, Mail."
Matt bolted upright in the tub, water spilling onto the floor. This time he wasn't sure why he'd been brought out of his dream so rudely. His senses were heightened by something, something loud that had woken him from his slumber.
He looked around the room, realizing he had fallen asleep while in the tub.
Sitting back, he felt much better than before. Every detail of his dream could be seen through his mind's eye.
"Mom..." he whispered quietly. Before Matt had felt as if his soul had been forcibly pulled from his body and returned incorrectly, like placing a round block into a square hole. Now he felt right, a little melancholy, but somehow ok.
He just wanted...wanted so much to see her again. But-
"Oh son of a BIIITCH!"
Matt shook, smacking his elbow on the side of the tub. Mello...he thought. He must have screamed like that earlier and woke me up. Nursing his pained elbow with one palm, Matt stood up, reaching for a towel to dry off.
After drying himself and dressing, the redhead looked around the apartment for his companion. He noted that it was rather dark outside, meaning it was at least past 5pm. In the winter months, the sun always set around 5 o'clock, just about the time that Mello would come home.
A light from the kitchen told Matt where to go. He stood at the entrance of the kitchen, watching his friend.
Mello stood before their rickety old stove, tending to boiling pots of something. Sleeves were rolled up and he had his hair pulled back with an elastic band. Looking to one pot, he squeaked in surprise, running to grab a pair of oven mitts from a far countertop. Rushing back, he grabbed one pot that looked ready to boil over. Mello took the pot over the sink, pouring the contents into a colander.
Matt had to assume that he'd spilled some of the hot water on himself as he dropped the pot into the sink, jumping back with a loud exclamation.
"Hee-YAAAAAAH!"
The gamer stepped backwards in response to the crescendo of noise created by the blonde, tripping on his socks and falling onto the floor.
Mello, who had grabbed a towel and placed it on one affected arm, looked down to see Matt. "Wai-whu...what are YOU doing HERE?"
"I was...I um..." Matt wasn't sure what to say, shaking as he spoke, having had the figurative crap scared out of him.
Mello made his way over to his friend, standing over him. "Out now!" He urged, pointing towards the living room.
"But I uh..." Getting to his feet, Matt looked to his friend, searching for what to do. "I was just worried that you-"
"You get out now!" Mello turned Matt away from him, pushing the younger boy into the living room then rushing back into the kitchen, yelling something incoherent afterwards.
Matt stood by himself, examining the grain of the hardwood floors. "Geez..." he said in a quiet, whiny voice. "Don't yell at me on my birthday..." Admitting defeat for now, Matt went to sit on the couch.
Leaning back, he decided to close his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of Mello cooking something. What's he cooking exactly? Matt thought.
"I'm glad you like it," she said, sitting in an empty chair across from him.
The youth consumed the food as his mother sat with her elbows on the table, watching her son eat happily.
There was a knock at the door just then. A look of panic overcame her features as she reluctantly stood from her seat, going to her son. "Now, you just stay here, Sweetie, and eat your food." Patting him on the head, she made her way to the door in the other room.
The boy put his fork down on the plate, sitting perfectly still as he listened.
A gruff voice erupted as the door creaked open. There was a quiet mumbled conversation that followed, one sentence exclaimed loudly at the end. "Why didn't you get the bread like I asked you?"
A smack and something hitting the floor rang out as an argument began. The curious youth got up from his seat, inching towards the wall nearest the front room. Large green eyes peered over the edge of the wall to see what was happening.
"What the hell am I going to eat for lunch now? You know I always have a roast beef sandwich," said a large burley man. He stood over his wife who was knelt on the floor, holding her cheek with one hand, sobbing. "What am I gonna eat now, huh?"
"I-I'm sorry. I was so busy with Ma-"
"You were busy? Hmph..." scoffed the large man. "You always have an excuse, you filthy-"
"Stop...please..." said the woman, getting to her knees. "Mail's in the other room. Please, don't do this..."
"SHUT UP WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" screamed the man, slapping his wife across the face. She landed facedown into the floor, crying as her face made contact with the carpet.
"MOMMY!"
"GAAAAH!" For a third time that day, Matt bolted up, almost smacking his face into the coffee table that was set in front of the couch.
He heaved a sigh, grasping at his chest. Until now, he never understood why people would grab their chests heaving and coughing. It all seemed so cliché...but now it seemed to make a lot of sense.
Mello emerged from the kitchen, standing at one side of the couch. "You ok?" he asked.
Matt looked up at him, sweating profusely. "Y-Yeah...I'm ok."
Mello's mouth curled in many different formations before he sat next to his companion. "If you say so. Well...I'm done," he said with a sigh.
Matt sighed, drawing in a slow breath to calm himself. In all his hysteria, he let his mouth run before his brain could process any information. "Done with what?"
"You moron. Done cooking."
"Cooking?"
Mello raised a hand, punching Matt in the head as he had earlier that day. "Idiot...cooking for you."
Blinking three times, Matt looked at the blonde as if he had grown another head. "Uh..."
"Mattie, what's with you today?" asked the blonde rhetorically. "Well I made you your favorite: spaghetti."
"O-Oh..." said Matt in surprise.
The blonde looked down at the hands on his lap, playing with his nails idly. "When we left the orphanage, I've been so stuck on getting a job and all. We've been roughing it for a while now. That last small job I took paid for this month's rent, but, it won't last forever, that job... But I..." he paused, trying to remember his initial thought.
"Once I got the money, I wanted to make you a nice warm meal. We've been eating crap for the longest time. And I thought..." Mello made sure to shield his eyes with his thick bangs.
"I wanted...to make you something good for your birthday." Mello lifted his head, eyes closed as he tried to smile softly. "So I hope you'll like it. I've never cooked before so..." Opening his eyes again, Mello looked to his friend.
"But eheh, we'll eat the spaghetti I made for you. Then I have a small present to give you. I'm sure you'll like it," he added, smiling again. "Heh, Happy Birthday, Mattie."
"I hope you like it, Mail. Happy Birthday."
Matt sat on the edge of the couch; shoulders slumped inwards on him, shaking with loud sobs. He sniffled as he took in a breath, shaking more than he had beforehand.
"M-Matt...what's wrong?"
The redhead fell into Mello's chest, grabbing onto him as he cried.
"Matt..." said Mello, wrapping his arms around his friend. "Oh Mattie...why are you crying on your birthday?" The blonde moved against the back of the couch to sit more comfortably, cradling his crying partner against his chest. "Mattie...please be happy."
The gamer couldn't seem to help himself. He cried, Mello reminding him of his mother. He began to remember things he had long tucked away in his mind, things that he just didn't want to think about ever again. Mello had unconsciously brought those thoughts to the surface, which meant Matt had to face the music and deal with such horrible feelings.
All the same, Matt was happy. He was happy to know that Mello had gone to such an extent to please him. It was obvious that the blonde had struggled to make a good meal for him, for one burning himself in the process.
Soon he was sure he would stop crying. Soon he would be wiping his eyes on his sleeve while Mello pet him on the head, telling him to be happy and enjoy his special day. He would scarf down Mello's cooking, even if it didn't taste like his mom's. He would later be opening a present from his best friend, something he was sure to like.
But Mello...thought Matt, continuing to cry. I don't want any of that. The redhead failed to describe what he was thinking. He didn't care for the present or the food even.
All he wanted, all he had ever wanted was to be loved.
And Mello gave him just that.