Warning: yaoi, Melloish language (but it's mostly Matt) however, swearing!
Disclaimer: Don't own.
Well, English isn't my first language and it's my first fan fic…
I've had it, now I'm leaving you
Matt always knew Mello had others. But hey, he wasn't some jealous sucker who cared so much he'd end up acting like an idiot. Whatever, he thought and went with somebody else himself. And he didn't mind loving someone who answered his 'I love you' with 'I don't give a fuck.' if he was in a bad mood and 'Fuck it, Matt, cut the drama.' if he was in his for-Mello- good mood.
And when - it was always when, not if- Mello hit him, he hit back. He wasn't scared of his blond friend- lover? - whatever, even though he without exception was the one to bleed the worst.
He didn't really care. He never had. He never planned to do. Matt was the loyal follower who started a fight when Mello wanted one. He'd complain, but without doing anything about it, without actually hearing his own words.
Mello used him and he was used to it.
Even so, the nights when Mello didn't come home increased, and so did Matt's doubts. After all, he could pretend he couldn't care less, but he couldn't stop caring.
"Are you seeing someone?" Matt asked one day, feeling incredibly stupid.
"A lot of them," came the serious response.
But then Mello laughed and kissed him and everything was as it should be.
One night in the middle of an extremely hot June and an unusually hot summer, Mello didn't come home. Matt wouldn't have bothered if it weren't for the fact that Mello had promised. Say what you will about that irresponsible bastard, but it wasn't his style to break promises.
So Matt got worried. He tried Mello's cell, but no answer. That fucking asshole had turned it off!
Matt waited for about an hour, trying to concentrate on his game boy but failing, with a cigarette in his mouth the entire time. Wow, he was beyond pathetic! Mello most have forgotten or whatever, it didn't mean something had happened to him. But it was that promise… He put his game boy away under his pillow and put out his cigarette before throwing it in a too full trashcan.
Swearing in a manner not very suitable for children's ears, Matt left their apartment to go look for the blonde. He went to Mello's favorite places, which implied strip clubs and worse, but no luck. He got more and more frustrated as the time passed and if anything he hated that feeling. Without being able to control his somewhat desperate expression- that in itself was kind of sad- he left the last place continuing to curse.
'Fuck that fucking fucker of a fuck!'
Okay, at least the brain dead swearing made him smile.
'Goddamn that ignorant, bitchy piece of shit…'
He had spent nearly the entire night worrying and looking, wasn't that retarded?
Matt returned home in case Mello had showed up while he was wasting his time searching for him. Well, he wasn't in his room. Matt decided to end this farce by going to bed and bitch slap Mello to hell when he came home. Because he would, of course he would. Mello was like a cockroach. A deadly, ingenious, sexy cockroach.
And that cockroach was sleeping in his bed. Matt just stared at the blonde head resting at his pillow, another head that belonged to some male he did not know beside it, the clothes that were tossed all over his room and even shoes and an empty bottle on the floor that wasn't his.
It was Mello -who else?- who had made the decision that they should have separate rooms. And of course he had to go and get too drunk to even remember which room he lived in.
Matt's brain didn't come up with any adjectives or substantives ugly enough to express how he felt.
The only thing his brain did provide him with was a verb: leave. So instead of waking them up by screaming at them or setting them on fire, he did something he'd never thought he would- he started packing his things.
Since Mello and that fucking whore of a friend of his -oh, right, Mello was the whore- slept in his bed he moved as quiet as he could. He didn't own much things that mattered to him anyway. He put a minimum of his clothes and a maximum of his games down in an old backpack and was nearly done when he realized something. Something vital.
His game boy lay under his pillow, or more importantly, under the pillow on which Mello's little slut slept.
'Just go to hell and burn in it… ' Matt thought while approaching the bed. 'Hope he's unconscious. Or, even better, dead.'
However, he wasn't. As if reacting to Matt's presence, he turned in his sleep, moaning.
'Fucking shit…'
The little bastard was kind of good-looking, and maybe a bit younger than Matt. He had black hair Matt wanted to touch because of its visual softness. Okay, he wanted to rip it from his skull, but he could always touch it first.
Whatever. Without trying to be gentle Matt pressed his hand in under the pillow to grab the game, and it made the guy groan and shift.
'In hell that Mello and his disgusting slutty prostituted shall keep me from playing games and kicking asses.'
Some more moans and then, suddenly, the guy's eyes opened. They were shaded blue and confused. Matt hugged the game tightly to his chest while they both stared at each other in paralysis.
"Who the hell are you?" the uninvited guest finally asked.
'No manners.'
"Well, that is my bed you're lying in, you hideous fucking parasite!" Matt exclaimed a lot angrier then he meant to.
'Oh my god, I have to stop doing this. I mean, Mello is the real parasite, he never ever pays the damn rent… Okay, unimportant. No meaning in getting into an argument now… could wake Mello up, and a hung-over Mello is the last thing I need. But that fucking cocksucker bothers me… Oh fuck it, gotta get myself together.'
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," the man said - well, man and man, he was probably just fifteen or something, some kid Mello had bribed with chocolate into sleeping with him. "Could you just, like, give me my clothes?"
He sat up so his naked chest were exposed. Maybe a little older than fifteen. And screw the truth, but it wasn't like Matt didn't know Mello wouldn't have the need to bribe anyone to get laid- or would ever share his chocolate.
'Of course I won't, like, hand you your fucking clothes. What would you say if I, like, shoved your fucking clothes up your newly molested ass?'
"Sure. Here you are."
The guy got dressed. Matt just stood there still hugging his game. And throughout this spectacle, Mello slept carelessly.
'Hope he gets, like, hit by a car,' was Matt's only thought when the man had the nerve to actually wave at him before he left.
Matt was done. His only remaining problem, except the one where the hell he should go, was how to tell Mello.
'A note,' he decided. 'That's all that immoral, incompetent, sex addicted imbecile deserves. '
But then there was another complication. What should he write? He noticed irritated that his hand were shaking when he pressed the pen against the paper. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to write down everything that showed up in his head. This letter was gonna be messy.
Reading it when finished, he wasn't very proud of the end result, but it would have to do:
Dear Mello (A rather weird beginning since the last thing this letter was was nice.)
I have finally reached the point where I hate you more then I love you. (He had? Well, it sounded harsh enough.) I was worried sick about you yesterday, but now that I know what happened I have come to the conclusion that I'm better of without you. (I have come to the conclusion…? Hell, didn't that sound pretentious.)
You are a joke, a parody of a human being and you don't give a shit about the few who care about you. (Did things always have to sound so unbelievably brainless when you gave word to your feelings? He wasn't a saint himself.) I've had it with you hurting me. You throw me around like I were one of albino boy's toys. Shit, my back still hurts. (Yes it did.)
I feel it like you are tearing me apart. (Boohoo, poor little martyr-Matt. ) Since you're religious or whatever they call it when you sin like hell but look like an angel, you should perhaps reconsider your lifestyle. (Heh. Now he was being poetic too.) I don't envy you for having to live with yourself, (cause I won't be the one waking up with a hangover.) and I've had it. Now I'm leaving you. ( A lot more words then needed to say good bye.)
Bye / Matt
PS. Sorry for the length of this message, I know you're a slow reader. (That would piss him off.)
PS 2. Near is better then you. (Okay, the last sentence was too cruel. He erased it.)
Wow. It was really melodramatic. Mello-dramatic, ha ha. Sigh, that was not funny.
Whatever. Screw him. Everything was true, after all. Matt didn't exactly feel like giving him a chance to defend himself.
Mello didn't deserve his attention. Not anymore. Leaving the note on the table in the kitchen, he hurled his backpack over his shoulder and started towards the front door.
"Matt?"
He jumped when Mello's hoarse voice reached him from his own bedroom, oh right, ex-bedroom.
'Well, isn't the dead walking…'
Mello didn't sound very awake, and Matt was close to the door; it wasn't as if he wouldn't have time to get away. But still… In some sick way, Matt wanted to see his reaction.
On the other hand, he wanted to rip the letter to pieces, hide his things somewhere and pretend nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But that was just his cowardly side speaking, the part of him longing for routine. If he turned back now it would be his own fault even more then it had before, simply because he'd have been on the edge of getting out.
Mello might have treated him like shit, but he had allowed him to.
So, back to the reaction thingy. Without having the strength to think further, he stepped back into the kitchen, opened the door to the pantry and slid inside. He shut the door except from a small crack where he could glance out.
It took Mello a long time to get up. Matt heard him stagger around colliding with what he assumed were furniture. When Mello eventually stumbled out in the kitchen Matt had started to regret his decision. He should have just left.
He was an idiot and he started to feel awfully bad about that crappy, cruel letter.
Mello looked like hell. Of course, he looked like hell in a hot way (Heh. Matt's jokes were always terribly funny.), as everyday under all circumstances ridiculously pretty . His golden (please, skip the poetry…) hair was a mess, his eyes red and his face tremendously pale. His movements were slow, signaling he definitely drank too much yesterday/ this morning.
Matt half expected him to catch fire in direct contact with the sunlight falling in trough the windows.
Since Mello wasn't in his usual sharp state it took him a good amount of time to observe the piece of paper lying on the table, bathing in white light.
Matt almost wished he wouldn't, but he did.
He read it, gnawing on a chocolate bar he picked out of nowhere, frowning and with his eyes narrowed in the sun, very slowly. Matt recalled the words the best he could and began to wonder why the hell he had written that unintelligent shit.
Mello had his left side turned Matt's way, and when he'd finished reading he turned towards him so abruptly Matt almost jumped backwards.
"Matt?" Mello said to the empty kitchen, leaving paper and chocolate on the table behind him.
Had he seen him? But no, Mello's gaze wasn't resting on him. It wandered the kitchen without seeking a specific target. Mello looked… haunted? Scared, as if he suddenly had realized he wasn't alone- or perhaps that he was.
"Matt? Where the hell are you, fucker?" It wasn't only Mello's eyes that looked weird, his voice sounded strange too, like it was about to break. Now he raised it: "Where the hell are you, asshole?! Matt?! Don't you dare leave me here you sick creep! This isn't funny!"
'No, it's not.'
Why didn't he leave when he had the chance? Matt wanted to just step into the kitchen, hug Mello (he would probably receive a broken nose in return, but what the fuck.) and promise to never do anything like this ever again.
Mello's uncharacteristic, desperate screams were eating away at his determination.
"Matt! What the hell do you think you are doing?! This isn't funny! I hate you and your annoyingly bad jokes, bastard!"
Mello grasped the tabletop behind his back with shaking fingers, leant against it seemingly having problems with standing up straight. His hair hid his eyes in shadows.
Matt came very close to abandoning his hiding place and backstab his own decision. But a surprisingly familiar - although he had rarely heard it from Mello- sound reached his ears and made mere shock stop him.
Mello cried.
"I l-love you and you-our a-annoyingly bad j-jokes, bastard…"
Now he really sounded broken, as if the words should have been bleeding weren't they abstract. He stood there on the kitchen floor and sobbed, first quietly, then more and more violently, it made him tremble, shiver, made him seem fragile and thin. Matt had cried, had heard a lot of people cry, but never like this. Mello sounded so bitter it made the little piece of Matt's heart that genuinely believed in the phrase 'life sucks' ache.
There was agony and an endless pain in Mello's tears, mixed with a dark, dark rage. He didn't cry like a frightened child having nightmares in a welfare state, but like an abandoned child in a country torn apart by war. Like a child who had seen death too close up to be able to turn back.
Like a personification of heartbreaking, like there were no end to his tears, sometimes silently and sometimes loudly and always breathlessly.
Matt hated himself for standing here and watching it, because Mello cried believing there was nobody in the room.
After time Matt had no way to keep track of, Mello did stop crying. For a while he just stood there not moving at all, his cheeks beginning to turn red from his drying tears. Matt wondered how he could have ended up spying on his best- only- friend crying like a dysfunctional fountain when he yesterday at this time didn't know he'd be leaving within twenty-four hours. He wondered why Mello's tears had made him unable to move.
He wondered why they both sucked so hard at relations when they were supposed to be good at it compared to Near. Wow, Near's life most suck even harder.
And when Mello left the room he wondered how it could totally destroy him and make him feel ever so relieved at the same time.
Matt waited a while before sneaking out. In the hallway, he could hear the water pouring from the shower.
He left what had been there apartment without second thoughts and having in mind never to come back.
A/n: Please please please review! I'd rather take criticism than nothing at all, and I'm kind of anxious when it comes to my writing. And thanks so much for reading!! J
Heh, btw I want to thank my sister ToNightIamgone for reading this and encouraging me and showing me how to do things!