WARNING!

If you do not oddities that toe the line of being very AU, do not read this fic. There are lots of strange occurrences. For example, Shinigamis will probably -you'll see- and a virus might -you'll see- and Mello might fuck a prostitute that's really a -you'll see-. Get it? Got it? Good. C:

Also, this fic is currently rated T, but it will probably go up. Expect violence, swearing, mild sex (I'm not good at writing yaoi sex scenes, okay?!), and things that are unsuitable for a younger audience.

Also! I DO NOT OWN DEATH NOTE. Blah blah blah, nothing funny to say. I have cramps, bitch.


"Mello? Mello?" I regretted picking up the phone when I heard his voice. It was hesitant, but excited. Innocent, but lacking the ignorance that seemed to coincide with naivety. Irksome, no matter the conjunction-riddled adjectives. "...Mello? Are you there, Mels? Mello? I'm right here, Mello. Are you going to hang up? I don't want you to, Mels, please. I'm sorry! Please...Mello? Hello? Mello?" Perhaps it wasn't lacking the ignorance. I guess his absence made me think of him in a more positive light than I should have. Bonds are strengthened with distance...until you meet said person again. I sighed loudly, knowing that the amount of time he allotted himself to breath between his string of now unintelligible "words" wasn't enough time for him to notice my displeasure. He was an obtuse person whose only was reality was me. Me, me, me. Not that I don't like that, no, but he's a fucking moron more than I'm an egotist...I think.

Lord, why was he so persistent? Why was he even apologizing, in the first place? Not that it was out of the accepted norm, per say. Matt was like a nagging housewife with extra love but with an indisputable lack of the authority that tends to come with the motherly type. Oh, and the fact that he was a teenage boy with the personality of a brick that wouldn't keep falling from the sky and hitting me in the head had the capacity to reinforce my negativity. And those stupid video games. I never really understood those either, but they didn't bother me so much as his deficiencies in the art of individuality and variance of actions. I can predict anything he says, he makes sure of that whether he knows it or not; but, I never understand the origin of his words. Whatever, he can do as he pleases. It doesn't affect me, I thought, a scowl pulling down my eyebrows down in disapproval and my lips back into a snarl. He hadn't increased my already pit-bound mood.

I held the phone down at my lap, squinting at the screen that was irredeemably cracked on the entire left side to see the time. I was ready for this conversation to be over. "2:23am. Two fucking thirty! Why are you up so damn late, Matt?! I'm sure you have a new roommate now, don't you understand the concept of common curtsey? Roger's going to mutilate you and feed his body to the frogs, smallish Wammy kids, and otherwise obnoxious cretin that go about their business at the pond! You moron!" The nondescript silver cell phone's proximity to me had escaped my realization as I was shouting. Hastily snatching it out of my leather-clad lap with similarly gloved fingers, I asked him whether or not he heard me or not.

I brought the phone back to my ear quickly, teeth grinding in rhythm with my now adequately fueled heart rate. My former disregard attenuated in favor of an emotional response to a tiny stimulus. It piles on, after a while. Matt and I's relationship wasn't of the usual sort, and certain events colored my – both of our – actions, still today in my case. The tension began its race with my minor breaking point triggering a catalyst for more difficult things to come. My leg nervously pounded the side of the dingy red couch I had taken no notice of during the entire conversation, the thudding an uncomfortably fast stacatto in comparison to the slower gnashing rate of my teeth and heart. Everything was moving too quickly. I started to rub circles with my thumb on the wrist that's hand was preoccupied with holding the phone, attempting to ease the tensed muscles that lay underneath my skin. It was easy to finger up the gloves to assuage my suffering, as the normally tight leather were becoming uncharacteristically loose. I found my wrists to be bony and skeletal, thinner than they had ever probably been. I vaguely remembered that I hadn't eaten in three days as my body continued its erratic movement, my eyes joining in as they swept the apartment I was staying in, confirming that my surroundings reflected my dietary habits. Revolting.

A long pause, filled with both my and Matt's unsteady breathing, occurred.

"Mello...you remembered the pond..." He had heard me, obviously. The tone of his voice was monotonous, but not unreadable in the least. He wasn't shocked at the fact that I had remembered, so much as the audacity I had to bring it up. My mistake was realized as soon as I had said it; I was reassured about the grotesque nature of the mistake when I heard his first tone, "Mello", how achingly hollow and flat it sounded. The phone may not have been in the best condition, but it was more than qualified to be a vessel for Matt's emotions.

I do not want to revisit this.

I panicked and turned off my phone, grasping my rosary in a moment of fearful piety.

Author's note

So, it's my first fic. I'm bored, it's 3:45am on a Friday, and I'm hormonal because I'm bleeding profusely from the vagina. What else to do but write a fic? So, welcome to "I'm Off My Rocker and Off Your Rocker Too". I'm gonna refer to it as Rocker, since that's really way too long. Uh, that's it. On with the fic! I'm enjoying Mello's voice a lot. Ehehe. Slow start, a bit of difficulty getting truly in character, and my tense is shaky...so it probably sounds kind of awkward to y'all. Whatever xD. Here's a question for anyone who may read this: Do you like how Mello is regarding Matt? Also, do you like the first person? By the way...I do not know where this fic is going, other than it's gonna be crazy because plot bunnies nest in my ears. Not my brains, mind. My ears. Oh yeah, more about Mello's current life – Mafia, his apartment, more about his living conditions, etc. - next chapter. C;