'Kay, I was feeling very upset about Matt and Mello's death date, which happens to be January 26, 2010, and... Well, this happened. I like writing stuff like this. :)
Beta'ed by the wonderful xElementFivex. If you are looking for some truly amazing stories, I'd suggest her creations.
Disclaimer: *sigh* I don't own Death Note. Depressing, huh?
Please review after you read! Criticism helps my writing improve!
"How, just how, is he better than me?!" Mello shrieked, in the midst of one of his infamously angry, if not borderline-psychotic, breakdowns. He kicked his desk, and a loud thud echoed across the room. The room was in utter disarray, with paper cluttering the floor, the waste-basket over turned, and chocolate wrappers strewn throughout the mess. The blonde-haired dynamo also had a chocolate bar gripped securely in his left hand.
The source of Mello's fury and frustration was, of course, a certain sheep-like someone with the name of Near. Well, if Mello had his way, he'd lift all the problems of the world onto Near's shoulders. L being busy, getting detention from the teachers, being second-best; everything was Near's fault.
Mello screamed again, and this time punched the wall. He could imagine himself beating Near, defeating Near, as he hit the bolster. One punch, another punch better than Near. Two punches, two punches better than Near. So, at least in Mello's mind, he was winning against Near as he repeatedly hit the wall. Although the wall wasn't Near, and Near was still the best, Mello began to feel better. He drew in a deep breath and snapped a chunk of chocolate into his mouth simultaneously.
Mello fell to his knees, then sat cross-legged on the floor, staring the abused wall down. It wasn't Near, but it was a good enough substitute for him. The wall, like Mello's opponent, was silent and cotton-colored. If you asked Mello, those were the basics of Near.
Mello sat there, in a numb state, until a series of sharp knocks on his door interrupted his daze. Mello jumped, surprised. Everyone at Whammy's knew by now to leave Mello alone after tests came back. Even the staff avoided him. So what imbecile was stupid enough to approach his door?
Mello scowled, kicked his mess to the corners of his room, and marched up to the door. He flung the door open with force, intending to intimidate whoever had made the unwise decision of disturbing him.
Unfortunately, luck was not on Mello's side today, so the visitor only leaned his head to the side and made a puzzled face. Mello recognized the boy (though the boy's name eluded him) as the kid who sat in the back of class staring out the window. At lunch, the boy was seen playing various videogame systems. This was the kid who, excluding mealtime and their classes, rarely left his room. The kid was number three in the ranks. Blindsided, Mello gaped.
The red-head quickly regained a face of irritation, and told Mello, "Do you mind, the whole house can hear your racket, and normally I don't care, but I'm on the last level of a game I've been working on two and a half days, and I cannot beat it if you keep ranting. Yeah, yeah, we know, you can't seem to beat Near, but maybe if you used all the time you use for throwing a temper-tantrum actually studying, then maybe you'd be first-rank!" Matt huffed, obviously frustrated at the blonde.
Mello continued gaping. This, this self-professed gamer, had just told Mello to shut up and study? Mello just couldn't believe it. No one in their right mind would shout at Mello while provoked, would they? Mello was tempted to smile, but then he remembered what the copper-haired boy had said to him, and that almost-smirk transformed into an angry frown. Anger boiled up in the chocolate-addicted boy, so Mello reacted. Physically. With violence.
Mello, suppressing the urge to incapacitate the poor fool, settled for hitting him across the face instead.
Matt yelped, and quickly drew his hand to his face, the right side now a light pink. "Did you just bitch-slap me?" He asked Mello incredulously. He stared at Mello dumbfounded, still in shock from the whole situation.
Mello nodded and replied, whilst mentally glaring holes into the younger boy's skull, "Yes, and now listen. I don't give a crap about any of your stupid games, and I'll rant if I want to, so if you have a problem with it, I don't care. Move to another floor, turn up your music, or go away, it doesn't matter! Just don't come to me about it. 'Cause I honestly am not gonna do anything. And if you ever, ever compare me to that big-headed twit, I will not stop at just slapping you. Do you understand?" Mello gave Matt his most intimidating stare, the one reserved for Near, and leaned forward. Matt gave a small nod, still speechless.
"Good," Mello said, taking a bite of his chocolate, "Now what's your name? I'm Mello."
"Matt," Matt replied, finally rejoining the normal world and still rubbing his injured face, "You know, that really hurt." Mello mock-glared.
"Matt, eh? Well Matt, I'd say sorry for hitting you, but you had it coming. Don't provoke an angry dog, got it?" Matt snorted, inwardly laughing at Mello's metaphor, as Mello continued, tilting his head, "You're definitely interesting, though."
Mello walked around the room, cleaning up the disaster zone that was once his room, leaving the door open for Matt. When Matt remained in the doorway, Mello asked him, "Well, are you coming in or what?"
"I, uh, I have a game I'm playing, and it's on pause, so I have to get back to it…" Matt remained in the doorway. Mello stood up and walked to the doorway.
"Well then, I'm coming with you. You know, to make sure I haven't given you any brain damage from that hit." Mello gave the goggled-boy a lopsided grin, and shut the door to his room behind him."
Matt grinned back. "You mean the girly slap? I suppose you must. I mean, you wouldn't want me to die, would you?" Mello rolled his eyes.
"It was not a 'girly slap'! It was a 'shut-up-before-I-accidentally-kill-you' slap!" Now Matt mimicked Mello, and rolled his eyes. "Sure, sure, keep telling yourself that. You do know that denial's not just a river in Egypt, right?" Mello half-glared, yet again, and he suddenly felt that he was going to have to get used to mock-glaring and rolling his eyes.
And just like that, Mello had beaten Near; He had had made a friend at Wammy's.