Die Another Day

1

[Matt]

Another day, another drama. Jeez.

Mello's yelling again. Is that all he does? I take a long drag on my cancer stick, and flick it nonchalantly onto the floor once I'm through. He seems to be under the assumption that I'm actually listening. Which I'm not, so I just nod at convenient moments, and eye the flare gun resting on the scuffed coffee table. Heh, I wonder what Mello would do if I decided to shoot a flare at him. Maybe he'd shut up. Yeah, he'd wave his gun at me, give me the evil eye, but c'mon. Really. He's all bluff. It's not like he'd actually shoot me- or anyone- he's too in love with his bloody death note. I reach over the back of the musty armchair that Mello likes so much, and snatch my sheepskin vest, pulling my pack of ciggs from the pocket. One left. I interrupt his Near-based rant by stretching, and heading for the door to the apartment.

"Yeah, I'm going out for a few, I'm out of smokes." He glares, in a very "respect my authority" way, grunts, and dominates the chair, leaning over his laptop. I shut the door behind me with a rusty click, and my feet make slight thunking noises on the squeaky hallway. Once outside, I slide into my red mustang with a satisfied sigh.

Finally. Freedom.

I leave the doors unlocked on the drive to the jiffy-mart on the corner, and leave the keys in the ignition and the door open as I walk inside. I'm just begging for a fight. I finger the gun concealed in my pocket. I would so win if anyone even tried to steal my car.

"Hey, hi, I'll take on of those." I point to the twenty pack I want, and glance out toward my car. "Make it snappy, I don't have all day." I throw some change at the girl behind the register, not really caring if it's not enough. I'll be gone before she counts it all. I slide back into the driver's seat, and fish out a new cigarette before peeling out of the parking lot, running a red light in the process.

Hey, what's life without thrills?

I've gotta do something to make people notice number three. Me. I'm just begging to be noticed. We'll see how long it takes for me to get caught.

I'm on my third cigg by the time I get back the apartment. One of the good things about Mello, he lets me smoke inside. So I'll be done with the pack in a few hours.

You might smoke for pleasure. I smoke to die.

I slam the door shut, and open the door, about to buzz myself in before turning back and pressing the lock button on the key-lock for my car. I had just put the key in the door to the lobby, when I'm lifted off my feet by a shock wave. My ears don't recognize the rumble, and the chaos for a moment. It reminds me of when Mello got blown up, and suddenly I realize why.

My car just blew up. I pressed the lock button…and my car blew up. I shake broken glass off me, and climb through the shattered window of the door into the lobby, and run upstairs to where Mello is.

"Holy Mary Mother of God!" he shouts, grabbing his rosary off the bed, then his flare gun, before shaking his head, dropping it again, and diving beneath the couch for a different, more lethal weapon. "Your car just blew up!"

"Yes, by now I had actually realized that bit of information." I reply snarkily. My head is pounding, and my ears are ringing from the explosion. If I hadn't been halfway inside already…

"You could've been killed!" he's really flipping out. He throws his laptop and cell into a leather messenger bag, drags me outside to his yellow hummer, and shoves me inside. He's in the driver's seat before I can blink, and we peel out, into a back alley, leaving a cloud of smoke in our wake, indiscernible from that of the explosion. His brows are knitted, and he glares out from beneath them, his pupils dilated. Once we're on the interstate and headed for the desert, he breaks the tense silence with a question I had been formulating the answer to since we left.

"What happened?"

"The bomb was rigged to the lock. Whoever planted it assumed I'd lock the doors while inside, and the only reason I didn't was because I didn't feel like it. I'm only alive because I was almost inside before I remembered to lock it."

He ponders this, obviously trying to figure out who would want to blow me up. After all, how many enemies do I have? I don't remember any. It was directed at me specifically, if they had wanted to get Mello they'd have rigged the hummer. Or the chocolate cabinet. Either one. We sit in stern silence until nightfall, when he seems to come to some sort of decision. I look up from my cell phone games in time to see him warily press the lock button. I close my eyes.

And nearly piss myself when there's a loud clunk, and a thud. Mello must have jumped too, because he jerks the wheel, and the tires squeal as we spin off the road into the desert before he slams on the brakes. We both realized in about a half a second that we hadn't blown up, and he looks embarrassed, in a pissy sort of way. We open the doors, and he checks the front of the car, which now has a nice dent in the front. I glance back at the highway, partially illuminated by the headlights, and see part of a coyote, spread out across the road.

A coyote. We hit a fucking coyote.

This day just gets better and better. I flick my cigg down on the animals remains, and trot back to Mello, who's still cussing at the dent. Not like cussing will fix it, dumbass. After waiting in the car for a few more minutes while Mello agonizes over his car, we finally get back on the road. Who would want to kill me?

Enemy 1: Kira. Wouldn't he just kill me, minus the theatrics? So, not kira.

And I don't have an enemy 2. Well, except for the cops, but they don't blow people up. Unless they're L, but he liked me. He wouldn't blow me up. And he's dead, so it doesn't matter anyway.

And then there's Mello. He's never this quiet. He'd usually be pissing and moaning and generally being a pain in the ass. But no. He's all…brooding. Mello does not brood, unless…

He knows something. I'm sure of it.