Hey guys - I'm back in Death Note realm! When writing my Death Note fic 'More than just cake' I got so many requests that I'd write some Matt & Mello, so I thought I'd give it a try. Let me know what you think! Might be that this is the beginning of a longer story...
Mello had never thought of himself as being gay.
To be more correct, he had never thought of himself as a person who could have any interest in sex at all, no matter if it was with women, men, goats or aliens - he simply couldn't have given a fuck about it.
As far as he was concerned, sex was something that had the power to turn even the brightest of men into drooling idiots, and he sure as Hell had no plans to become a drooling idiot.
Mello's plans for life were very different, and they had three main goals.
First - to beat Near.
Second - to get the fuck out of Wammy's.
Third - to be the greatest detective in the world.
To achieve the goals he had set for himself, Mello was ready to give all he had, no matter how excruciatingly hard he had to work, how many late hours he had to sacrifice and suffer doing homework, reading, writing, burying himself in the endless ocean of books and computers. To be the best - he would do it all, and more.
And because of that, there was no room for distractions.
Maybe that made Mello one of a kind in the universe. The only teenage boy in the history of mankind who didn't give a fuck about fucking. Or maybe Mello would have been one of a kind anyways.
It was hard to tell.
In Wammy's house they were all one of a kind. Especially Matt.
Mello's eyes wandered to the redheaded boy sitting two rows in front of him, scribbling notes on a paper. The long, slender fingers of Matt's left hand gripped on the pen, and he was tapping his thigh with his right hand. His feet in black sneakers moved restlessly under his chair. Matt's hair fell to his neck, to his ears on a way that made Mello feel weird in his belly. Hot and billowy and empty.
Distraction. He shook his head. This is a fucking distraction and nothing else.
Mello bit on his pencil. The teacher in front of the room kept yadayading something that went right through Mello's head as if it was nothing but buzzing of flies, wind in the trees. He gave a frustrated sigh. These lessons were waste of time as it was. He learnt better by himself anyways. What was the point of being taught by teachers who had the IQ half of your own?
"...The happenings of the second world war in Japan lead to…."
Mello rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair. His gaze wandered to the windows, the thick, old glass windows they had in every room in Wammy's house. Outside it was spring, the sun was shining, and everything was so bright and green and fresh and beautiful, that it made Mello sick. He preferred the winter, or the fall. Then it was okay to dress in black and be gloomy. In the spring everyone expected you to be all happy happy joy joy because of the sunshine.
But Mello hated sunshine, for many reasons.
He hated it, because it burnt his pale skin, because it made wearing black uncomfortable, because it meant that yet again one year had passed from the spring he had been brought here, and here he still was, still in this shit hole, and nothing would ever change.
And he hated sunshine for the way it fell on Matt's hair, making it look like there was a fiery halo around his head. It drew Mello's eyes back on Matt, he just couldn't help it.
He wondered how it would feel, to run his fingers through that hair.
Oh for fuck's sake!
Mello stood up in a swift motion, almost knocking over his chair, and gathered his things. His cheeks were burning, of being annoyed and of a feeling he couldn't - he wouldn't - name.
"Mello, the class isn't finished yet." stated the teacher, a middle aged woman with glasses, ugly clothes and a personality of pure boredom.
"It is for me." Mello snapped. "I wasn't learning anything here."
"There is a test coming next week. Are you sure you want to skip this last lesson—"
"I already said I wasn't learning a thing! This is a waste of my time. I'll get an A+ nevertheless."
"Do not make the mistake of thinking I will let this go just because you are one of the best students in the class, Mello. I will notify Roger—"
"One of the bests?" Mello hissed, stopped and turned on his heels. "Try saying 'the best'. And I couldn't give a fuck who you'll be talking, cunt."
There was a gasp of shock from a couple of girls in the first row, the teacher went pale and her eyes narrowed. But Mello hardly noticed any of that. On his way to the door, his glance met Matt's. Matt had raised his silly goggles on his forehead and he had the sparkle of amusement in his green eyes. His lips, that were sucking on a pencil as if it was a cigarette, curled into a smile, that hit Mello in the stomach like a wrecking ball.
That only made Mello angrier. He didn't look back as he left, slammed the door behind him so that the door frames rattled.
Fucking distractions!
Was it really too much to ask, that he could have been one of a kind?