AN: Middle of the night = best inspiration time ever. :D
It's my birthday today (or, rather, yesterday: september 12th, put this up late), so I felt like uploading something. (I'm officially fifteen now! -is not a little kid anymore- D:)
I know this concept has been done to death and all, but I wrote this mainly for myself, not for anyone else so...
Warnings: Some language. Can be interpreted as either friendship or slash. (Mostly the former, but the latter can be seen if you're a squinting expert.)
Disclaimer: I love huge explosions. There were not a lot of huge explosions in Death Note.
Critiques would make me happy.
Everything has been decided ahead of time.
It is suppose to be quick, simple.
"Simple, but not easy," Matt points out when Mello tells him, earning himself a glare from the blonde.
Simple but not easy.
And that makes all the difference in the world.
At least, to the redhead it does.
So, Matt sits there, on the old, decrepit couch, and chain smokes. He doesn't even care if Mello bitches about the smell. It might be the last smoke that he'll have in a while (heck, maybe even forever) and he damn well won't let anyone, not even his best friend, ruin it.
When Mello is greeted by the smell of cigarettes, Matt is completely prepared for a whole hell of a lot of yelling and things sent flying. He waits, absolutely silence, his expression indifferent, for the fit that is sure to come.
It never does.
Sighing, the blonde plops himself down in the couch opposite. Without a word, he pulls out a chocolate bar and proceed to devour it in typical Mello fashion.
A moment of silence passes.
Then another.
And another.
Both are simply sitting there, one with a cigarette and another with a chocolate bar. Neither speaks nor meets the other's eyes. It is an unspoken anxiety that lingers in the air, mingled with bitterness and frustration.
Finally, "Goddammit, Matt, those things fucking stink."
The tension eases a bit, and Matt manages a perfect imitation of a carefree smile. But, he continues smoking away without a word.
"What is this? The silent treatement? Didn't know you were such a girl, Matt."
"Nothing to say," he answers, truthfully.
Mello isn't convinced. "Really? Then what the hell is with this little pity party for yourself that you have going on here?"
All he is able to retort with is, "This isn't a pity party."
"Then what is it?"
"Me enjoying what might possibly be the last day of my life."
An exasperated sigh. "Dammit, Matt, I've said this before: we aren't going to fucking die."
Matt doesn't believe the blonde. All the plans, the possible scenarios, are based on theory, on conjecture. Mello may be a genius, but he sure as hell isn't a psychic, and the redhead had a disturbing feeling, a premonition almost. Tomorrow... tomorrow won't be a good day.
As if reading his mind, "Premonitions are bullshit. You probably just had some bad seafood or something."
Matt opens his mouth to say that he hasn't had any seafood recently but, instead, says, "Yeah... Maybe you're right."
A scoff. "Aren't I always?"
The redhead can think up many times when the blonde had been in the wrong, but all of them are too cutting, too personal, to bring up. He settles for a simple, "Well, you're right more often than me, I'll give you that."
"That's not a great compliment, seeing as you're wrong most of the time."
"Not when it comes to computers."
"Which doesn't count as much."
"And video games."
"Which doesn't count at all."
A frown.
A smirk.
A smile.
Then, they both break out laughing, harsh, almost grating, sounds that distracts them both from their worries.
Afterwards, "Hey, Mello, want a smoke?"
He shrugs, "Oh, what the hell," and takes one, adding, "but we're smoking on the balcony. Don't want this place to start smelling more disgusting than it already does."
Personally, Matt doesn't know how the place can start smelling worse than it already does. He wisely keeps his opinions to himself, however.
Once greeted with the clear, crisp night air, the redhead feels noticeably better. As the two friends stand in companionable silence, watching the billowing smoke rise up and disappear, their fears seem to calm down and an almost sense of comfort settled.
Later, "It's going to be fine."
It isn't a reassurance.
It's a fact.
A nod in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose it will."
-
The next day, the two leave, with their only conversation, hurried and rushed, being, "You know what to do, right?" and "Yeah, memorized it down to the letter."
They don't say "goodbye" or even a "see you later".
(They won't be separated for long, anyhow.)
And, as Matt is swerving his car this way and that, trying to avoid Takada's bodyguards, Mello's words are replayed over and over in his head.
"It's going to be fine."
The redhead wills himself to accept it as fact, like the blonde had.
"It's going to be fine."
Yes, it certainly will be.
Definitely.
AN: So, yeah. That's it.
This was spawned from imagining a friendship-esque Matt and Mello scene which wasn't even used in here. (The scene was one where Mello tries to talk about his--their--past but Matt stops him with, "It isn't important. Only the here and now is. What happened before, at Wammy's, before Wammy's... That's not what it's about anymore.") And, though I really liked that scene, it wouldn't fit in here, so I didn't use it.
The other reason is because, although I like most others' sweet interpretations of Matt and Mello's night before their deaths, I personally think this is the way it went. Mello is much too arrogant, too proud, to even think of the possibility that his plan will go wrong. (I also think he's too proud to actually help Near with anything, even if it is to catch an international villain with supernatural powers.) Matt would be a bit worried but his worries will easily be dispelled by Mello, who, as his best friend, Matt probably can't help but trust.
They never thought that they would die...